writes fluff, some smut, comfort, and the quiet moments that happen after the game ends.
◇ 🇲🇦🇷🇱🇪🇾
writes angst, smut, and the things to make you blush.
together we write sidney crosby x reader fics with a mix of softness, longing, and a little chaos.
✶ 18+ blog
✶ minors dni
✶ requests: open
✶ thought ramble messages welcome
✶ ai disclaimer: we do not use AI to write.
We have used AI to discuss graphics ideas only when first building a theme for the blog.
All text is written by Marley or Abbey and all fic header graphics are created by Marley via Canva and Pinterest images.
(damn, it comes to something when we have to make this disclaimer as some users are attacking amazing writers - people can just be good writers, fuck off <3)
◆ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ (mdni)
the fic where sid can't leave you alone in the morning
◆ ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴀɴ (ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘᴀɴᴄᴀᴋᴇꜱ)
the fic where evgeni malkin & kris letang hatch a plan to ruin your date night
◆ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ
the fic where you make it your mission to annoy sid whilst he bakes
◇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ
the fic where sid can't stop himself from having you
part one | part two | part three | part four (mdni)
◆ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ
the fic where sid gets injured
◆ ᴘᴀɴᴄᴀᴋᴇꜱ
the fic where sid promises tanger & geno pancakes, so they break into your house
little update from marley
hi! this blog has been a little quiet at the moment - my dog has had surgery this week so i am super mentally tired and haven't been doing much writing
myself and abbey are working on a requested fic together - no eta on it at the moment as it's gonna be a long one by the looks of it, but thanks for sticking with us and for all the love we've received since we started this blog
the fic where sid can't help falling in love with you
multi-part fic
part one | part two | part three | part four
pairing: sidney crosby x best friend
reader rating: nsfw | 18+
content: established friendship, slow burn, fluff, smut
word count: 1.8k
◇ author
The room was dark when you woke up. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust as you raised your head, settling your gaze upon the silhouette of the man lying half underneath you, his face soft as he dreamed. Your legs were intertwined with his, perfectly slotting together like a braid, and your left shoulder lay on top of his chest. His arm was slung around your right shoulder, pinning you in place.
Your headache had subsided. The jolting pain had been replaced with a foggy feeling as your eyes roamed his face, memorising the curve of his lips and the strong protrusion of his nose.
You weren't sure how long you'd been staring at him. You didn't really care.
You'd cuddled together, sure, but this moment was the most intimate moment that you'd had with Sid. You didn't want to move, even though your shoulder felt numb under his arm, you just wanted to commit every inch of his face to memory - scared that you'd never be this close to him again.
Then he woke up.
He let out a soft grumble, smacking his lips lightly as his eyelashes fluttered, his eyes opening slowly.
"Hi," he croaked, his gaze focusing onto you as you smiled softly.
"Hi," you echoed, barely above a whisper.
"Feel better?"
You hummed in response.
He looked at you intently, like he was really seeing you for the first time. Or maybe because he was allowing himself to see you properly for the first time, for the beautiful person you were instead of just his best friend. Your hand seemed to have a mind of its own, moving up towards his face. Your fingers stroked the side of his face tenderly and he relaxed into it, his eyes closed for a moment as he let out a huffed breath.
He opened his eyes, searching yours for a second before he lunged closer to you, his lips enveloping yours with a fire that had been held back for far too long. He was warm, so warm, and his lips were soft against yours. You sighed into his mouth as you pulled him even closer, feeling the weight of his torso press down on top of you. He pushed stray hair behind your ear and kept his hand steadily against your cheek, as if you could disappear from his arms at any moment.
Your blood thundered in your ears. Your heartbeat was pulsing as he deepened the kiss, not dominating you but enough to know that he had you under his control.
The feeling of his palm against your cheek, his skin against yours - you needed more of it.
You reached between your bodies, pulling the hem of your shirt upwards. He pulled back slightly, only breaking the kiss for mere seconds until the shirt was abandoned across the room. Then his lips found yours again as he unclasped your bra and let that join the timed out t-shirt.
Different, this time.
Hungry, desperate: losing every inch of self control the more he indulged himself in you.
You didn't have a single clear thought in your head. Your fingers weaved their way into his hair, pulling gently as his lips wandered away from yours and onto your jaw, then leaving a burning trial down your neck.
He broke away from your skin, leaning back on his knees. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and looked down at you, watching your chest heave as you tried to catch your breath.
"Fuck this," he muttered. With one swift move, he was on top of you completely, his hands folding tightly over your wrists and pinning them next to your head. You gasped in surprise, choking out a moan as his lips suckled and lapped at your chest, making his own leisurely way south to your bellybutton.
You wriggled underneath him, desperate to free your wrists and pull down your leggings, but his grip was relentless. You felt his teeth against your stomach as he grinned, enjoying you becoming more desperate by the second.
"Sidney," you begged. "Please, you're killing me,"
"Good," he said, the cockiness in his voice making you scoff as he took his time to kiss along your waistline, the grip around your wrists becoming tighter.
He pulled your hands forward away from the sides of your head, firmly planting them against your hips, his grip still strong around your wrists.
You watched through half-lidded eyes as his teeth bit around the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down slowly until they reached your knees and you could kick them off.
You waited for him to do the same trick with your underwear, but the teasing fuck had a different plan.
He placed a soft kiss against the damp fabric, his breath warm. Then another. And another.
The pressure wasn't enough, the ghosting of his warmth around your clit was driving you insane. And he knew it.
"Already so wet for me," he muttered, almost like he was in awe of the fact.
"Do something, Sidney," you whined, trying to pull your hands out of his grasp again, but to no avail.
He looked up towards you, his nose brushing against the top of your pussy. His mouth spread into a grin - the kind of smile that you'd never seen on his face before, full of cocky control. You shuddered.
"What do you want me to do?" he tilted his head to the side, feigning confusion, but the smile never left his lips.
"Sid!"
"Come on," he began to kiss the inside of your thighs. "You can tell me,"
"You're driving me crazy," you gasped.
"Then tell me what you want," he pulled away from your legs and sat upright, towering over you. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you,"
He paused for a second, his eyes roaming your bare chest.
"Fuck, I'll give you anything, baby," he whispered, releasing your wrists and collapsing on top of you, his mouth taking over yours once again.
Your free hands flew to his head, pulling his hair desperately before making their way down in between your bodies, pulling down your underwear.
"Go down on me," you groaned into his mouth. "Please,"
Considering it felt like you were under his control, he was eager to please. He wasted no time in trailing sloppy kisses down your body again, finding your naked pussy bare and ready for him. He took one long lick, his tongue peeking through your folds.
Your back arched slightly as your eyes closed, cursing him through gritted teeth.
"More," you bit, letting out a relieved moan when his tongue found your clit. His tongue circled around it, then his lips enveloped it in a delicious rhythm.
"God damn it," you heard him curse against your raw bud, losing his mind at the sounds of you.
"Put your fingers inside me,"
Once again, he didn't hesitate. He shifted slightly, allowing his ring finger to slip inside you softly as he kept his pace with his mouth on your clit. He stretched you, a glorious pain almost made you close your knees on him, then he inserted his middle finger.
His fingers hooked, pumping at a spot that made you forget your vocal volume control or any form of the English language, all the while his mouth was still devouring your clit.
You could feel it building. Fuck, it had been a hot minute since you'd had this feeling so strong. You began tingling all over, your shoulders growing cold as your back arched out completely.
You came hard, screaming his name as you did, and Sid carried on touching and kissing you through it, praising you between breaths.
You were still floating on a high when you sat upright and reached for his jeans, frantically unbuttoning them and pulling them down, along with his boxers.
You scoffed when his cock sprung free, thick and loaded with precum, so hard that it looked like it was hurting him.
"What?" Sid whispered, his tone shifting to concerned as he stared at you.
"Huh?" you blinked up at him.
"What was the noise for?"
"You," you shook your head, bracing your hand around his shaft as your thumb stroked the bead of precum around the end of him. "Of course you're big,"
"Oh,"
"How that old cup protects you, I don't know," you muttered, watching his skin grow shiny as you pumped him gently with his own precum.
"Seriously?" you heard him chuckle, his cock jolting in your hand. "That's what you're thinking about right now?"
You giggled, pumping him faster.
He backed away a few seconds later, his breathing ragged.
"Stop," he croaked. "You're gonna make me come into your hand,"
You released your grip, lying back down onto the bed. Sidney's eyes roamed your body again until they settled on your pussy, wet and slick and so ready for him. You didn't even feel embarrassed when you allowed your legs to fall open even further, giving him a full display of the mess that he'd made with you.
"Do you have a condom?" you asked. Sidney froze, his eyes widening slightly.
"Fuck," he grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "I don't,"
"Well, I'm clean. I haven't been with anyone in over a year,"
Sidney looked at you. Really looked at you.
"I'm clean, too," he nodded. He took a step closer towards the bed, his knees hitting the frame. "Are you sure?"
"Yes,"
His hand stroked his cock a few times, and the sight of it made your jaw drop.
After everything Sid had just done to your body, this was the hottest thing that you'd ever seen.
His knees braced the bed and you hooked your legs over his forearms. He pulled you closer.
You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock push against your entrance.
Sid looked at you once last time, trying to find any reason to stop, any sign that he was going too far - that you were both crossing a line that you couldn't cross.
You were crossing it anyway.
He slowly pushed inside you. A soft whine escaped your lips as you felt the stretch, felt the way that your pussy clung to him. He eased out of you, then back in, keeping his pace slow to let you adjust. You bit your lip as he filled you again and again, trying to keep back the moans that were building in the back of your throat.
"You doing okay?" he asked. You nodded quickly, closing your eyes as he picked up his pace. Your ankles locked behind his back, driving him deeper into you. A moan escaped, and then another, and then another, until you were a whimpering mess among the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His pace became relentless, quick and hard, full of everything that he'd held back for years, told himself that he couldn't have. That he couldn't even think about.
Now your pussy was wrapped around his cock, pulsating as you came, and your name tumbled from his mouth among with every curse word you knew.
He spilled inside you with a low groan. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you, his head resting on your breathless chest. He looked up at you, panting and coming down from the high, seeing the sweet smile and glassy eyes that he'd created.
He knew it. He knew he was fucked.
Nothing else in his life was ever going to compare to the way you looked at him after he'd fucked you.
He lay his head back down, praying that the feeling of being yours would never leave him.
the fic where sid can't leave you alone in the morning
pairing - sidney crosby x reader
rating - 18+, mdni
content - smut, porn w/o plot
word count - 1k
◆ author
Sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains of your bedroom, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets and the man sprawled beside you. Sid's arm is heavy across your waist, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep, his breath warm against your neck.
The events of last night linger in the pleasant ache between your thighs, a reminder of his intensity, but this morning feels different—soft, unhurried, like the world outside your bed doesn't exist. You shift slightly, and his eyes flutter open, his dark lashes framing a gaze that's immediately soft, filled with the kind of affection that makes your heart stutter and butterflies fill your stomach.
'Morning,' he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, pulling you closer until your bodies fit together, skin to skin under the covers.
His hand slides up your back, fingers tracing lazy circles along the tattoo down your spine, and you tilt your head to meet his lips in a slow kiss. It's gentle at first, just a brush of mouths, but he deepens it, tongue slipping in to taste you with a quiet hum of approval. You melt into him, your leg hooking over his hip, drawing him impossibly nearer.
He breaks the kiss to nuzzle your jaw, lips trailing down to your collarbone, where he presses open-mouthed kisses that he knows send shivers across your skin.
'You look so beautiful like this,' he whispers, his hand cupping your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple until it hardens under his touch.
You arch into him, a soft sigh escaping as he lowers his head, taking the peak into his mouth. He sucks lightly, tongue swirling around it, while his fingers knead the soft flesh, drawing out soft moans that fill the room.
Your hand wanders down his chest, feeling the defined muscles tense under your palm, until you reach his cock. It's already half-hard, thickening as you wrap your fingers around the base and stroke upward, thumb circling the head to spread the bead of pre-cum there. Sid groans against your skin, his hips bucking into your grip.
'Yeah, just like that,' he breathes, releasing your breast with a wet pop to capture your mouth again.
The kiss turns heated, tongues tangling as you pump him slowly, feeling him grow fully erect, hot and heavy in your hand.
He rolls you onto your back, settling between your thighs, his weight a comforting press as he kisses his way down your body. Pausing at your stomach, he dips his tongue into your navel, then continues lower, nudging your legs wider
'Gonna take my time with you this morning,' he says, voice low and promising, his breath ghosting over your pussy. You're already wet, folds slick from the night before and the building arousal now, and he notices with a satisfied smile. His fingers part you gently, exposing your clit, and he leans in to lick a slow stripe from entrance to hood.
You gasp, fingers threading into his hair as he settles in, mouth working you with deliberate care. He laps at your clit in firm, steady circles, sucking it between his lips before flicking his tongue over it again. One finger slides inside you, curling to stroke that sensitive spot, then a second joins it, pumping in a gentle rhythm that matches the swirl of his tongue. The pleasure builds languidly, warm waves spreading through your limbs, and you rock your hips up to meet him, whispering his name like a plea.
Sid looks up at you, eyes locked on yours as he eats you out, the sight of his face buried between your legs pushing you closer to the edge. He hums against your clit, the vibration making you clench around his fingers, and you come with a soft cry, body trembling as the orgasm washes over you in gentle pulses. He doesn't stop right away, licking you through it until you're oversensitive and tugging at his hair to pull him up.
He rises, kissing you deeply so you taste yourself on his tongue, his cock pressing insistent against your thigh.
'Want you inside me,' you murmur against his lips, guiding him to your entrance. He nods, positioning the head and pushing in slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every bit of the stretch. Once he's fully seated, he stills, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing together in the intimacy of the moment.
Then he starts to move, thrusts deep and measured, rolling his hips to grind against your clit with each one. His hands roam your body—one bracing beside your head, the other interlacing fingers with yours as he pins your hand to the pillow. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he kisses you softly between thrusts, murmuring words of love.
'Feel so good around me... love being this close to you.' His pace stays unhurried, building the tension gradually, every slide of his cock dragging along your walls, filling you completely.
You meet his movements, hips lifting to take him deeper, the friction sparking fresh heat. He shifts his angle slightly, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, and you moan into his mouth. Sweat beads on his skin, and you run your free hand down his back, nails grazing lightly to urge him on. He quickens just a touch, breaths coming faster, but it's still tender, focused on the connection rather than the rush.
The second orgasm creeps up on you, coiling tight in your belly until it breaks, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you gasp his name. Sid follows soon after, burying his face in your neck with a muffled groan, thrusting deep as he spills inside you, warm and pulsing. He stays there, holding you close as you both come down, peppering your shoulder with lazy kisses.
After a while, he pulls out gently, rolling to his side and drawing you into his chest. His fingers trace patterns on your arm, and you snuggle closer, content in the afterglow.
'Best way to wake up,' he says with a grin, kissing your forehead. You smile, tracing his jaw.
'Every morning with you is,'
The day stretches ahead, but for now, you're wrapped in each other, the fluffiness of the moment lingering like the sunlight on your skin.
the fic where Evgeni Malkin & Kris Letang hatch a plan to ruin your date night
pairing - sidney crosby x reader
rating - pg
content - fluff
word count - 1.7k
◆ author
The apartment still smelled like garlic and basil when Sidney finally got home. The aroma of his special tomato pasta sauce bubbling away on the stove wafted through the house.
You heard the lock turn just as you were setting two glasses on the table, and a second later the front door opened with that familiar soft thud. Sid stepped inside, still wearing his postgame suit, tie loosened, hair a little damp from the shower at the rink, looking exactly like he always did after a win: tired around the eyes, a little pink-cheeked from the cold, and quietly pleased with himself in a way he’d never admit out loud.
Even after a game, Sid looked dreamy.
“You’re late,” you called, smiling cheekily when you met his gaze.
Sid rounded the corner into the kitchen and smiled the second he saw you. “I texted you,”
“You texted me a thumbs up and a pasta emoji,”
“That counts,” He replies, smiling softly at his own response.
He leaned in to kiss you anyway, one hand settling at your waist like it belonged there. It did.
It always did.
You smiled against his lips.
“How was the game?” you asked, like you hadn’t watched every second, every hit on the tv whilst setting up for date night.
“Good,” He pressed one more quick kiss to your forehead before stepping past you toward the stove. “A little messy in the second, but we got it done,”
He said it so casually, like “getting it done” didn’t mean another full night of him throwing himself into every shift like the outcome of the universe depended on it. You watched him shrug off his suit jacket and hang it neatly over the back of a chair before rolling up his sleeves with the same precision he used for everything else.
He lifted the lid off the pot, checking the sauce, stirring it softly like he hadn’t already been thinking about it all the way home.
“You made dinner before you left for your game,”
Sid gave you a look over his shoulder, half shy and half smug. “I started it before I left, yeah,”
The kitchen was enough proof of it.
There was flour dusted faintly across one section of the counter, a cutting board with the remains of chopped parsley and grated parmesan, a loaf of bread wrapped in a clean towel, and a pan of chicken parmesan resting in the still-warm oven.
You crossed your arms and leaned against the island. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“I’m married to you,” he said, reaching for the pasta strainer. “I already impressed you,”
You laughed. “Debatable,”
He gave you that little grin he only really wore at home, the one that never made it in front of cameras.
“You stayed married to me,” he said. “That’s a pretty good sign,”
The two of you moved around each other easily, falling into the kind of rhythm that came from years of being together. You handed him plates. He passed you the salad bowl. He stole a piece of mozzarella from the cutting board and acted deeply offended when you smacked his hand away.
By the time you sat down, the table looked ridiculously nice for a random weeknight - candles lit, pasta steaming, chicken parmesan crisp under melted cheese, and two glasses of your favourite wines catching the low golden light from above the stove.
You looked at him across the table, your heart doing that stupid soft thing it still did even after all this time. You couldn’t help the smile that automatically spread across your face.
He noticed, of course. Sid noticed everything when it came to you.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,”
He narrowed his eyes a little. “That’s not nothing,”
You twirled your fork through the pasta, smiling. “You made me Italian food from scratch after a game. I’m just appreciating my life choices,”
The tips of Sid's ears turned pink.
Any compliment you ever gave Sid always made him blush - it was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
“Eat,” he muttered, trying his best not to show the smirk forming on his lips.
You did, and it was unfairly good. The sauce was rich and slow-cooked, the pasta perfectly done, the chicken crispy under the sauce instead of soggy like it should have been after sitting. Sid watched you take the first bite with the intensity of someone tracking a puck.
“Well?” he asked.
You let the silence drag out on purpose.
He frowned. “Seriously?”
You laughed and reached across the table to touch his wrist. “It’s amazing. Obviously. You know it’s amazing,”
His shoulders loosened. “Okay,”
“Did you really make all this alone?”
He took a bite, trying and failing not to look pleased with himself. “Yeah,”
“Not even a little help?”
He hesitated for half a second, which immediately made you suspicious.
You pointed your fork at him. “Sidney Crosby,”
“What?”
“That was a guilty face,” You smiled, wiggling your eyebrows at him.
He swallowed. “I mentioned in the locker room after the game that I was making dinner.”
You stared at him, knowing exactly what that meant.
Sid kept his expression carefully neutral, which only made it worse.
“You ‘mentioned it’?”
“Mhm,”
“To who?”
He took a sip of wine instead of answering.
Your eyes widened. “Sid!”
He set the glass down. “Tanger and Geno were there,”
You dropped your fork against your plate with a clink. “You told Kris and Evgeni that we were having date night?”
“I told them I was making Italian,” he says casually, taking another bite of the delicious pasta.
“That is not the same thing,”
He winced, just a little. “I might’ve also said it was date night?”
You laughed in disbelief, already seeing exactly where this was headed. “Why would you do that?”
Sid looked genuinely baffled by the question. “Because they asked what I was doing after the game,”
“And you told them,”
“Yes,”
“In detail,”
He glanced down at his plate. “Maybe,”
“Oh my God,”
Before he could defend himself, there was a loud knock at the door—three quick pounds, followed immediately by the sound of someone trying the handle like they owned the place.
"Open door, Sidney!"
You slowly turned your head toward your husband.
Sid had the decency to look at least a little guilty.
Another voice, a little more apologetic than the first, yelled at the door.
"This wasn't my idea, I swear!"
You covered your face with one hand, laughing already. “You invited them,”
“I didn’t invite them,” Sid said quickly.
The door opened, Sid completely forgetting he left the latch off when he came home from the game earlier.
“Sidney!” you sighed, setting down your fork.
He stood up from the table with the air of a man about to face the consequences of his own actions. “I can handle it.”
The second the door opened into the kitchen diner, Kris Letang swept in like he’d been waiting with his hand already on the frame, all easy confidence and grin, with Evgeni Malkin right behind him looking deeply pleased with himself, sniffing the air dramatically.
Tanger stopped short when he saw the candlelit table.
“Oh wow,” he said, putting a hand over his chest. “This is really romantic,”
“Don’t,” Sid said flatly.
Geno leaned to look past him at the food. “You make chicken too? You never say chicken also,”
You were laughing too hard to be properly annoyed now. “Did you two really just show up here for dinner?”
Tanger looked offended. “Show up? No. I came to support Sid's cooking. Geno's here for dinner!”
“With empty hands?” you asked.
Geno held up a bottle of wine from somewhere inside his coat like a magician revealing a final trick.
“I bring gift,” He smiled from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows.
Tanger lifted a bakery box. “And dessert,”
You looked at Sid, who looked back at you with that helpless, boyish expression that had probably gotten him out of trouble since childhood.
“This,” you told him, “is your fault.”
He came back to the table, leaned down, and kissed your cheek softly. “A little bit.”
“A lot a bit.” You smiled, poking his chest playfully.
He smiled against your skin. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Behind him, Tanger was already heading for the kitchen cabinets like he knew exactly where the plates were, and Geno was hovering over the pasta with open admiration.
“Sid,” Geno called, “I take big plate, yes?”
Sid closed his eyes for one brief second. “Take a normal plate, Geno.”
You snorted. “Date night’s going great,”
Sid straightened and looked at the disaster unfolding in his kitchen, then back at you. His mouth twitched.
“Could be worse,” he said.
Right on cue, Tanger reappeared holding two plates and one of your nicest serving spoons.
“Good news,” Kris announced. “We’re staying,”
Sid sighed.
You laughed so hard that you nearly spilled your wine.
And somehow, with your husband in rolled-up sleeves, two very uninvited Penguins making themselves at home in your kitchen, and your quiet dinner for two turning into complete chaos, you had a feeling the night was only getting started.
Considering your date night had been completely crashed by the two guys, the way they slotted in perfectly with the two of you was adorable but slightly alarming. You all sat around the table, eating the delicious dinner when Geno tried stealing the last bit of garlic bread, sitting on Sid’s plate.
“I don’t think so!” Sid said, instantly taking the garlic bread from his plate and holding it in the air.
“Come on! Share bread, Sid!” Geno bellowed, throwing his hands in the air in disbelief, looking to you for help.
Sid shook his head in annoyance, tearing the garlic bread in half with expert precision, making sure to give himself the bigger bit.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of you.
Geno and Sid arguing about who had the biggest bit of the last slice of the garlic bread, Tanger doing what he does best by fueling the fire whilst making sure everyone's wine glass was continuously full.
Even with two uninvited penguins, it was still a perfect date night.
Even when Geno asked if he could take the leftovers home with him for Nikita.
the fic where sid can't help falling in love with you
multi-part fic
part one | part two | part three | part four
pairing: sidney crosby x best friend
reader rating: nsfw | 18+
content: established friendship, slow burn, fluff, smut
word count: 1.5k
◇ author
Sidney guided you to the room silently, his eyes burning hot into the back of your head. You kept your gaze lowered to the floor, allowing him to fully control where you moved to.
The room was small and basic, but it was clean. You flopped yourself down on the double bed, not bothering to take off your jacket.
You felt your shoes being pulled away from your feet. You turned your head, watching through half-lidded eyes as Sidney knelt beside the bed, taking your shoes off for you. He gave you a soft, shy smile as he caught your eyes, standing up and sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to you. He reached behind him and rubbed your feet as he scrolled on his phone, checking his missed calls and texts.
It was nothing more important than you.
He locked his phone with a soft sigh and turned his head to look at you.
Your headache was subsiding a little - the bed was fairly comfy and the low lighting in the room was helping tremendously.
Your eyes were still fixated on Sid. He stared back at you.
Neither of you said anything for a moment, just locked in gazes that said more than your mouths could.
"Sid," you whispered before you could stop yourself. He tilted his head at you.
"Yeah, kid?"
"C'mere,"
He hesitated for a moment, but crawled his way up the bed after he saw the pleading in your eyes. He didn't touch you, opting to sit upright next to you, his legs straight out in front of him almost robotically.
"Are you," he cleared his throat. "feeling okay?"
"The bed's helping," you mumbled. "but I'm cold,"
He wasted no time in helping you to manoeuvre underneath the duvet. Your body was slow to move, too comfortable moulding against the soft mattress.
"Better?"
"No," you admitted. You turned over to face him. "Can you...get under?"
"What?" he stammered, his eyes widening.
"You're always really warm," you admitted. "I need more heat,"
"Sweetheart, I-" he ran a hand through his hair and blew out a small breath through his nose, his eyes crinkling as his head argued against his heart. "I don't think it's a good idea,"
"Huh?"
"I can't do this,"
"Sidney," you sighed. "We've cuddled together before, what's your problem? I'm freezing cold and you run like a space heater,"
"But not in a bed,"
"So?"
"I-"
"Please, Sid," you cringed internally at how desperate you sounded.
The tone of desperation must have worked. He looked at you with a pained expression, his eyes stormy as he fought to keep his self control. He pushed down the duvet and slipped underneath it, his arm brushing against yours. His eyes focused on the ceiling as he lay flat on his back.
You blamed the headache for your bravery - but, in all honesty, you couldn't hold yourself back from him. You curled up into the side of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. His body felt tense against you.
"I can't do this," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll ruin everything,"
"No," you murmured, lifting your head so that your lips ghosted above the pulse point in his neck. "Nothing can ruin us,"
He tensed up even more, his body completely rigid at the feeling of your breath tickling the skin on his neck. His hands were fists beside his hips and his chest rose and fell quickly, as if he was struggling to breathe normally.
"Sid," you breathed. "Just relax. It's fine,"
He tore his eyes from the ceiling to look down at you. You lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze.
The man looked tortured.
Sid's brain was going into overdrive. You looked so soft, so beautiful nestled into his body, fitting perfectly against him like you were made to be there.
He loved you too much.
If he gave in to you, wrapped his arms around you and held you close, it was a step too close to crossing the line. That comfortable line of friendship that was already slightly blurry - that was a lifeline to him. If he crossed this line and it all went south, he'd lose you completely.
The idea of you not being in his life made his stomach churn.
If he relaxed into you, pulled you as close as possible, he wouldn't be able to just stop there.
You leaned closer to his face, pressing a sweet kiss on his jawline, watching it immediately tighten as you drew away.
"Please don't," Sid warned.
"Why not?"
"Because-" he paused to clear his throat. His eyes met yours. "I won't be able to stop myself,"
"Stop yourself from what?" you asked, your eyes boring into his with a challenging glint. The room felt smaller, the air felt thinner, and there was a vulnerability hanging around the both of you that made you want to question everything.
"Why did you leave me that night?" you burst out. Sid froze, trying to look anywhere other than your face.
"Uh," he began after a few silent moments. "What night?"
"You're a shit liar, Crosby," you muttered. You pushed your torso from his, staring at him face-on. "You know what I'm talking about,"
"We were drunk," he whispered, still looking around the room. "I couldn't end our friendship by getting carried away,"
"What is it with you and this fixation on ending our friendship?"
"What?"
"You heard me," you pulled away from him, turning over to face the wall.
"I don't understand what you're talking about,"
"Whatever, Sid," you huffed, closing your eyes.
"It's not whatever," he sighed. You felt his hand grip your arm, pulling you onto your back. He leaned over you, his face just mere inches from yours. "You started this conversation...so talk,"
Your eyes glanced down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. Those eyes, always dark and intense whenever he looked at you.
"You seem convinced that if something happens between us, we won't be in each other's lives anymore," you whispered.
"Yeah," Sid sighed. He traced your features with his eyes, lingering on your lips.
"Why?"
"It'll be awkward afterwards, won't it?"
"No. Awkwardness is for mistakes. You'd never be a mistake,"
"You'd get sick of me,"
"I haven't got sick of you yet,"
"It's different," he whispered. He brought his hand up to your face, letting it linger above your forehead for a moment. Slowly, he lowered it, brushing a few strands of hair backwards gently. "You deserve more than what I can give you. I'm on the road so much, I'm barely around during home games too, I can't give you everything,"
"I don't want everything," you admitted. You cupped his face in your hands, bringing it closer. You heard Sid's breath catch in his throat. "I just want you, Sid. Always have,"
His eyes searched yours for a moment.
Slowly, he leaned in closer, his bottom lip brushing against yours with such a beautiful softness that you sighed against him. You opened your mouth, gently taking in his bottom lip between your own lips. Your hands crawled from his cheeks to his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, savouring the taste of you and the warmth of your lips against his. His tongue roamed over yours, not fighting for dominance but urging you to fall deeper with him.
He pulled back with a soft groan, his finger rubbing against your cheekbone lovingly.
"Turn over again," he mumbled.
You turned back over to face the wall. His arms crept around you, pulling you close in a warm embrace, your back firm against his chest. He pressed a small kiss to your temple and you winced slightly.
"Head still hurting?"
"A little," you admitted.
"You should sleep a bit,"
"Will you stay here with me?"
"I don't want to be anywhere else," he confessed against your hair. "I'll wake you up in a hour, we can head to a little place I know for dinner,"
"Okay," you closed your eyes, but your hand crept down to his that rested on your hip. You closed your fingers around his wrist and dragged his arm up, resting his hand on top of your breast.
"This is not sleeping," he chuckled.
"Shush, you're disturbing me," you giggled.
You felt Sid's chest huff a laugh against your back. His hand moved away from your breast, trailing down your waist until he reached the hem of your shirt.
His fingers fiddled with the hem for a moment, before snaking underneath the fabric.
You hummed as his hand wandered up towards your chest, slipping underneath your bra to cup your breast. The feeling of his warm, calloused skin on your bare nipple caused your breath to hitch. You buckled against him, your head tilting backwards into his chest as he cupped your breast stronger, his grip keeping you anchored next to him.
"I'm not going any further," he whispered into your ear, his voice low and strained. "Not until you're feeling better,"
"Fine," you sighed.
Sid's skin on yours and the steady feeling of him breathing behind you lulled you into a comfortable sense of safety, the world slowly slipping away as you drifted into sleep.
the fic where sid can't help falling in love with you
multi-part fic
part one | part two | part three | part four
pairing: sidney crosby x best friend reader
rating: nsfw | 18+
content: established friendship, slow burn, fluff, smut
word count: 1.5k
◇ author
Sid appeared bright-eyed at your bedroom door at seven a.m. the next morning. You greeted him with a tired scowl, your hair sticking up in all directions as you rubbed your eyes.
You sat up in your bed, grumbling incohesive curses to the smirking man in your doorway.
"Good morning," Sid chirped. Your scowl deepened.
"What the fuck are you doing?" you managed to choke out, glancing over to the clock on your nightstand. "It's the middle of the night, Sidney,"
"Sidney?" he raised his eyebrows with a grin. "Oh, you're that mad at me, eh?"
"Get out of my room,"
"Get out of bed,"
"No,"
"Yes,"
"Sidney!"
"There it is, again!"
"I'm going to kill you,"
"Good," Sid giggled. "That means you'll get out of bed,"
You flopped back down into your bed, covering your eyes with your blanket.
You loved Sid, but this whole 'early bird' thing he had going on was one of the worst things about him. When he stayed over, he'd always be pounding at your bedroom door at an hour that you considered ungodly, but he considered to be the middle of the day.
You felt the blanket being pulled away from you.
"Sidney, I swear to God, you won't make it to the all-stars or to any games for the rest of the season,"
"Feisty," Sid chuckled. "I'm telling the league that I'm being threatened,"
The blanket was tugged away with a sharp pull, the cold air hitting your bare legs as it fell away from you. Sid stood at the end of your bed, still giggling, as you reached forward and tried to claim the blanket back.
"I'm gonna lose my mind," you muttered to yourself as Sid balled the blanket up in his arms, walking out of your room with it.
He was still fucking giggling.
"There's coffee waiting for you downstairs," he called down the hallway.
You narrowed your eyes.
"You could have lead with that,"
"Where's the fun in that?" he burst out laughing again as you heard his feet patter down the stairs.
Menace, you thought. With a sigh, you walked down the stairs, each step a loud thud.
He stood by the kitchen island, your coffee in his hand, wearing that stupidly adorable smile across his lips. You took the coffee from him silently, taking a long sip to try and wake yourself up a little more.
"What's the plan?" you asked as you drained the contents of the cup.
"Uh," Sid rubbed his forehead. "I'll go home and pack, you pack, I'll pick you up in...an hour?"
"Make it two,"
"Two hours?"
"Yeah,"
"You really need two hours to pack?"
"No," you hummed. "I just need an hour of peace before I have to deal with you for two days,"
"Wow," he feigned heartbreak, clutching his chest. "You cut deep, kid,"
"You'll survive,"
"I'm not sure I will," Sid grinned.
You rinsed your coffee cup and started up the stairs, hearing the click of the front door as he left. You showered quickly, smothering your body in lotion and began packing. You paused a few times to sit on your bed, a headache slowly growing stronger over the hour, but you ignored it as best you could.
Sid arrived an hour and a half later, loading your bag into the trunk of his car. You slid into the passenger seat with a bottle of water in your hand, rubbing your forehead lightly.
"Are you okay?" Sid's voice made you jump. You hadn't heard him open the driver's side door.
"I'm fine," you lied, settling yourself back into the seat. Sid got into the driver's seat, still watching you as the engine hummed to life.
"Are you sure?" Sid asked, his voice soft with concern. You glanced at him, catching the way his brows furrowed as he studied your face.
You didn't want to tell him that you were feeling sicker by the minute. You didn't want to cancel the road trip - it was rare that he had more than one day off in a row.
"I'm sure," you gave him a small, steady smile and took a sip of your water. His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds longer, before he turned back towards the windscreen and pulled out of your driveway.
You hadn't said a word in thirty minutes and Sidney didn't like it.
He knew you weren't feeling good, noticing the way that you always pressed your thumb against your temple for a second when you had a headache.
"I think we should turn back," Sid mumbled, glancing over at you. You were slumped against the door window, your eyes half open.
"I don't want to," you whispered. "Just keep going, I think I just need a nap or something,"
"You don't look good,"
"That's charming,"
"I'm serious,"
"Sid, just keep driving," you grumbled, annoyed.
"Sweetheart," Sid pleaded.
Your heart pulled in your chest. He never really used pet names with you, but sweetheart had slipped out a handful of times over the years - usually when he was concerned or worried.
You turned to look at him, studying the way his hands gripped the steering wheel. The grip lessened as his hands splayed out to turn the wheel.
Fuck, his hands were huge. So strong and steady, hands that you'd felt splayed across the bottom of your back when he'd guided you through busy places. Hands that you'd felt rub your shoulders when you had a difficult day and gate-crashed his house late at night after a game. Hands that had playfully poked and prodded at your ribs when you were arguing.
You imagined those hands splayed across your bare skin, roaming from your neck to your arms. From your hips up to your chest. Those hands cupping your breasts, your nipples hard between his fingers.
"You look like you're burning up,"
"Uh," you wet your lips and shook your head, as if that could clear the dirty thoughts that were plaguing you. "I'm fine,"
Unfortunately for you, this whole 'zoning out and thinking about your best friend fucking you' thing was becoming more and more frequent as the years had gone by. Sometimes you'd catch him watching you as you daydreamed, and you'd meet his gaze wondering if he knew what you were thinking about.
If he'd do the things to you that you wanted.
It had almost happened once. Neither of you had spoken about it since.
A year into your friendship, Pittsburgh had won the Stanley Cup. The summer was a blur of parades, parties and Sid dragging the cup everywhere he could.
The last party of the summer, you'd both drank far too much. You'd pulled his t-shirt above his head when you were alone in his room with him and he'd began unzipping your dress. Then he caught sight of himself and you in the mirror. Him half naked, about to bring you to the same level.
He stopped.
He'd muttered something about not being able to do it and walked out of the room. You slept alone in his bed.
You were too drunk to feel the hurt of the rejection in the moment, but the next day it came crashing in with a god awful hangover to match.
You just weren't his type, you'd reasoned with yourself. You were both drunk and it was just a slip-up, nothing more. He didn't want anything more.
It wasn't an easy fact to live with - especially since he seemed to be around you almost daily - but you swallowed down your feelings.
You'd rather let him consume your thoughts in private than lose him completely by ruining a friendship.
At some point during the drive, you fell asleep. Sid kept the car quiet, leaving the radio turned off to ease the headache that you were adamant that you didn't have. His hand rested over the centre console and your fingers had somehow intertwined with his as you dreamed.
He couldn't stop himself from glancing over at you every minute or so.
He managed to control himself when he was around you. He managed to keep his staring to a minimum, managed to look away when you felt his eyes on you. He managed to stop himself from holding you too close when he hugged you, stop himself from tangling his hands in your hair and pulling your face closer to just an inch away from his.
He'd almost done it last night, when you were lay across his lap.
The ringtone from Sid's phone filled the car, startling you awake as he swore. He silenced the phone from his car screen, keeping his eyes firmly on the road again.
"Sorry," he whispered.
You groaned in response, kneeling forward in your seat. Sid turned to look at you, noting how rigid your shoulders looked.
"Can we pull up somewhere? I don't feel good,"
"Uh," Sid glanced at the map on his car screen. "Ten minutes,"
"Alright," you nodded.
He pulled into the car lot of a motel a short while later, turning to look at you as he killed the engine. You were still hunched over in the seat, cradling your forehead.
"I'm gonna see if they have any rooms free. See if you can sleep this off, eh?"
"Okay," you whispered. You heard the soft click of the car door as he left and locked you inside.
the fic where you make it your mission to annoy sid whilst he bakes
pairing - sidney crosby x reader
rating - pg
content - fluff
word count - 742
◆ author
The whole kitchen feels warm before the cookies are even finished baking. Soft yellow light spills across the counters, the oven hums in the background, and everything smells like cocoa, brown sugar, and melted chocolate. Sidney stands beside you looking too good in his tight fitting black tee, carefully stirring the dough like he’s taking the recipe far more seriously than necessary, his muscles flexing with every stir of the spoon.
You’re supposed to be adding the chocolate chips, that was the one job he gave you and if you weren’t sneakily throwing them in your mouth, you were ‘accidentally’ letting tiny handfuls tumble onto the floor.
The little clicks against the tile make him pause. He looks down, then over at you, already suspicious with his eyebrows raised at you.
“That didn’t look accidental," he smirks, raising his brow.
You widen your eyes in the most innocent way you can manage. “Are you accusing me of cookie-related sabotage?”
Sidney gives you that look — the one that says he knows exactly what you’re doing, even if he’s too amused to call you out properly.
“I’m saying you seem way too pleased with yourself,"
You bite back a smile and reach for more chocolate chips.
“Maybe I just like keeping things interesting,"
He shakes his head, but there’s already laughter in his voice.
“Interesting,” he repeats, like he’s trying to sound unimpressed and failing completely.
A minute later, while he’s focused on scraping the bowl,trying to get every last bit of cookie dough from the bowl, you “accidentally” drop a few more.
This time he turns fully toward you, one brow raised.
“Again?”
You grin, shrugging your shoulders.
“Oops?"
He sets the spoon down and steps closer, not nearly as annoyed as he pretends to be, desperately trying to keep his serious face on.
“You know,” he says, quiet and playful. “Most people flirt in normal ways,”
You laugh, and before you can answer, he reaches out and brushes a smear of flour from your cheek with his thumb. The touch is gentle, lingering just enough to make your heart skip.
Suddenly the teasing feels softer, sweeter, wrapped up in the comfortable warmth that always seems to follow him.
“Too late,” you whisper. “This is my method now,"
He smiles then — that small, helpless smile he gets when he’s trying not to laugh but you’ve already won him over.
“Your method is making a mess,"
“And your method is pretending you don’t love it,"
That earns a quiet laugh, the kind that makes his whole expression soften. He slides an arm around your waist and pulls you a little closer, until your side rests against his.
“I never said I didn’t,"
For a moment, neither of you moves.
The bowl of cookie dough sits forgotten on the counter while the two of you stand there in the middle of the warm kitchen, close enough that you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. There’s chocolate on the counter, flour dust on both of your hands, and a ridiculous number of chips on the floor — but somehow it all feels perfect.
Then, because you can never leave well enough alone, you lean down and drop one last chocolate chip right by his sock.
He looks at it. Then at you.
“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but he’s smiling.
“And yet,” you say, leaning into him, “Yku’re still here.”
He tips his forehead gently against yours, his hand warm at your waist.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Funny how that works,"
The oven timer goes off, but neither of you rushes to move. Sidney steals one quick kiss first — sweet and familiar and full of laughter he hasn’t quite finished smiling through — and only then does he step away to pull the cookies out.
When they’re done, he breaks one open while it’s still warm, chocolate melting between the halves, and hands you the bigger piece without even thinking about it.
You take it, smiling.
"You know I was being annoying on purpose,”
“I know,” he says.
“And you still gave me the better half,"
He glances at you, fond and helpless all over again.
“Yeah,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his. “I know that too,"
Outside, the evening is quiet. Inside, the kitchen is warm, the cookies are perfect, and Sidney is looking at you like a little harmless chaos is exactly where he wants to be.
the fic where sid can't stop himself from having you
multi-part fic
part one | part two | part three | part four
pairing: sidney crosby x best friend reader
rating: nsfw | 18+
content: established friendship, slow burn, fluff, smut
word count: 1.6k
◇ author
You didn't expect his call.
You'd watched his game on TV, all the way from the pre-show on Sportsnet Pittsburgh to the gruelling overtime shootout. You saw him grimace when he missed a pass sent over from Rust in the first - if he'd have got it, the net was wide open. You saw him fighting in the second, then sitting in the sinbin with a face like thunder as the other team scored the equalizer with three seconds left on the power play. His legs were fast in the third, pushing for that final goal to give them a party on fifth ave.
The goal never came and neither team could make any magic happen in OT.
He lost control of the puck in the shootout.
Too much in his head, a little too much power on a play that could have been read too cocky by the ones that didn't know him. Dangling left to right, trying to confuse the goalie...then letting the puck stray completely aside.
The Penguins lost and you turned off the TV with a sigh.
You curled up with a book in front of your fireplace not long after, a mug of hot cocoa at your side as you flipped the pages.
Your mind drifted to your best friend a couple of times, hoping he wasn't going to stay up all night replaying every moment of the game that he faltered. You didn't text him - he was better left alone on these nights.
When your phone buzzed on the coffee table behind you, your brows furrowed as you closed your book.
"Hey," you mumbled into the speaker, hearing a sigh on the other end of the line.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, softly.
"No,"
"Can I come over?" he sounded embarrassed, like he was ashamed to barge into your space so late at night. Yet, if he had a really good game, he'd appear at your door with no warning - freshly showered from the arena with a big grin, asking if you had any sweet snacks.
"I don't know why you're asking permission to come over," you chuckled.
"It's late,"
"It's fine,"
"So I can come over?"
"Yes," you said. "Use your key, I'm all cosy and I'm not getting up to let you in,"
"Alright," the phone call ended with a beep. You took a long swig of your hot cocoa and settled back into your book. You were so engrossed in the chapter that you didn't hear his key twist the lock on your front door, or hear him pad into the living room.
He stopped to look at you. You were so blissfully unaware of his presence, your eyebrows drawn together as your eyes skimmed the sentences in your book.
He felt better already.
It had been a difficult game. Usually, he'd shut himself away on nights like this but he'd tossed and turned on his bed, just thinking of you. You'd make everything feel lighter. You always did.
Sid sat down at the island in your kitchen, emitting a low groan as his tired body sank into the stool. His chin lay heavy in the palm of his hands as he watched your eyes tear away from the page and settle onto him.
"Good book?" he muttered. You nodded.
You lifted yourself up from in front of the fire, a yawn escaping you as you made your way towards him.
"I told you it was late," he said quietly, more to himself than to you.
"Shut up," you grumbled. You slowed to a stop next to him, studying the blankness in his face. He stared straight ahead, his eyes plastered on nothing in particular.
You poked his cheek softly.
"Stop replaying it in your head," you warned. "There's nothing you can do now,"
"I jus-"
"Nope," you cut him off. "Not listening,"
He closed his mouth, still zoned out. You placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.
Without hesitation, he enveloped your hand into his and pulled you towards him, covering you with his arms in a warm hug.
"Sorry," he whispered against your ear. "It was just a shit game. Not the way I wanted to end before the all-star break,"
"I know," you hummed. You pulled away from him, walking around his perch towards the cupboard next to the fridge. He watched you pull a metal tin from the cupboard and open it. You held out the tin towards him.
"No, thanks," he said. You rolled your eyes, fished out his favourite chocolate bar from the tin and threw it across the island. It slid towards him and settled next to his elbow, glinting proudly.
"Come on, you're on a break. Three days off. Give yourself something to enjoy for a second," you said, grabbing a cookie for yourself. "You'll upset the chocolate if you ignore it,"
A ghost of a smile flickered in his face. He looked down towards the wrapper and grabbed it with a sigh. "You say some weird shit, you know,"
"The weird shit I say is the only reason we're friends,"
"I'd still be here even if you didn't say weird shit,"
"I'm talking about when we met," you chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie.
"Poor Nate," Sid let out a shy laugh, opening the chocolate bar and taking a small bite.
"Poor Nate?"
"You didn't have to chirp him like that,"
"You didn't hear half of what he used to say to me when I went to visit Layla,"
Layla was your best friend since childhood. She'd been dating Nate at the time and he was usually hanging around the house when you went to visit her in Nova Scotia.
Then one time, Sid was there too.
You had no idea he was there, tucked away on the couch as Nate started to chirp you about your wet, curly hair in the hallway.
Sid had felt drawn to you the minute he heard your voice, unwavering and sarcastic, flittering through the hallway. When he found out you were living near Pittsburgh, there was no separating you both, even after Layla and Nate broke up.
His teammates referred to you as Mrs Crosby behind your back.
Sid hated how much he wished that was true.
"What was it you said to him, again? Drop the routine?" Sid snorted.
"Yeah. He started saying shit about my hair, so I said his nose had the better curl pattern,"
"That was it," Sid let out a laugh, a real laugh that made you smile with him. "You asked him to drop his curl routine and then looked like you wanted to die when you saw me in the living room,"
"I had no fucking idea you were there," you giggled. "I was thinking you were going to think I was a bitch,"
"Well, if we're being honest..." Sid teased. You raised what was left of your cookie in a threat to throw it at him. "You ain't gonna waste that on me," he cackled.
"Shut up," you snapped, a grin still on your face as you took another bite. "One day, I will throw it,"
"I'll catch it,"
"Whatever you say,"
"I played baseball, thank you,"
"You got kicked off the team,"
"I still played it, eh?"
"Who the fuck starts fighting in baseball?"
"It wasn't me," Sid laughed. "I didn't start it,"
"You just helped it,"
"Yeah," Sid nodded, finishing the last of his chocolate. "Hockey mentality,"
"Idiocy," you quipped.
He puffed a laugh through his nose, lifting himself up from the stool slowly.
"Oh, you're leaving now? Now you've ate my food, again?"
"You hurled the chocolate at me," he exclaimed. He walked over to the couch, flopping himself down with a grunt. "Can I stay longer?"
"Stay all night, I don't care," you snorted. "The guest bedroom is yours at this point,"
"Can you come here?"
You wiped the cookie crumbs from your hands and walked over to the couch. You settled down into the small space between him and the fabric arm, your legs bent across his thighs. The same way you always sat.
"Do you have plans tomorrow?" he asked. You cradled your temple with the palm of your hand, your elbow braced against the back of the couch.
"No, I've got the week off,"
"Oh," he nodded, tearing his eyes away from you and focusing on the fire.
"Did you wanna do something?"
"I don't want to interrupt your time off,"
"You're being so annoying right now," you sighed. Sid snapped his gaze back to you.
"What?"
"You lost a game and now you're being awkward," you said. "Oh but it's late...I don't want to interrupt you," you mocked his voice.
"That's annoying?"
"Yeah," you nodded. "Usually, you just let yourself into my house. Randomly decide you can't be bothered to drive home and fall asleep in the guest room. Help yourself to the kitchen like it's yours. Ask me to go places with you like it's no big deal. Twice, you've gone to sleep in my room and I've had to shake you awake,"
"Well-" he trailed off. "My mind's a little...preoccupied,"
"That shouldn't change how you act around me,"
Sid shrugged. "So do you want to make plans tomorrow?"
"Yeah," you punched his shoulder playfully. "Only if it's with you,"
He smiled, the genuine smile that he seemed to save just for you. The smile you thought about constantly, hoping that Sid had no idea what that smile did to your brain.
"Road trip?"
"Bet," you clapped. Sid's arm snaked around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You stayed there for a moment, breathing in the scent of his body wash. You could still slightly smell the hockey gear, but it didn't bother you all that much. Not anymore.
"I can't believe I lost the puck," he mumbled.
"Sidney," you warned, lifting your head. He glanced down at you, then clicked his tongue against his teeth.
pairing - sidney crosby x reader
rating - pg
content - fluff, maybe angst if you squint
word count - 1k
◆ author
The arena was louder than you’d ever heard it.
Even after years of watching him play, the roar of the crowd still made your heart pound and shivers cover your entire body. The sea of black and gold blurred together as you stood near the glass, fingers curled around the railing tightly. Down on the ice, number 87 carved across the rink with effortless precision — your husband, your best friend.
Sidney always looked different during a game.
At home, he had warm laughter in the kitchen at midnight, quiet focus over his morning coffee, gentle hands resting at your waist, subconsciously rubbing soothing circles across the exposed skin. But here? Here he was sharp edges and fire. Determination burned in his eyes as he chased down the puck, jaw set, legs pumping.
You smiled despite your nerves, catching his gaze every time he flew by the glass you were standing behind. You couldn’t help but wince with every hit he took and made, the worry in the pit of your stomach growing.
He glanced up briefly during a stoppage in play — just for a second — and found you in the crowd. He always did. His expression softened, the smallest lift of his visor, a secret smile meant only for you.
Then the puck dropped again.
The third period was tight. The score was tied, tension crackling in the air. You barely realized you were holding your breath as Sidney fought along the boards. A defenseman closed in hard — too hard.
It happened fast.
A shove. Skates tangling. The sickening thud of his body against boards.
The arena gasped.
Your stomach dropped.
Sidney didn’t get up.
Time slowed in the worst possible way. The referee’s whistle blew sharp and shrill, but you barely heard it over the pounding in your ears. Trainers rushed onto the ice. Sidney shifted slightly, one hand clutching at his shoulder.
“Sid…” you whispered, already moving.
You didn’t remember getting down the steps. You didn’t remember flashing your credentials or someone opening the gate for you. All you knew was that you were suddenly on the rubber flooring beside the bench, heart in your throat.
He was sitting up now, wincing as the trainer spoke to him.
“Let me through,” you said breathlessly, not even looking at the security guard, only ever looking at an injured Sid still sitting on the ice grimacing in pain.
“I’m sorry ma’am, you’re not permitted in this area during the game,” he said sternly, for the first time you looked at the man stopping you from getting to the man you loved and fire was all that was present in your eyes.
“I’m his wife and he is injured, I’m a nurse and I know what I'm doing, get out of my goddamn way!” You snarled, as the guard’s eyes widened in surprise. He quickly opened the gate for you as you mumbled a quick ‘thanks’
His eyes lifted after hearing the commotion — unfocused for a moment — until they landed on you.
And everything in his expression changed.
You rushed over to him quicker than you ever have before, meeting his soft gaze the closer you got to him.
“Hey,” he murmured, trying to give you that brave, reassuring smile. “I’m okay,” he whispered, trying to give you his best ‘i promise i’m not hurt’ face.
“You are such a bad liar,” you whispered, kneeling in front of him. Your hands placing themselves on his muscled forearms,hovering slightly, afraid to touch the wrong spot. “Where does it hurt?” you ask softly, scanning over every part of his body.
He exhaled carefully. “Knee. Just fell on it weird,”
The trainer gently tested his range of motion, moving the joint forward and backwards. Sidney’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t make a sound. He never did. But the pain was evident on his face.
You leaned closer, pressing your forehead lightly to his helmet. “You scared me,”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, so only you could hear. “didn’t mean to,”
The crowd was chanting his name now.
Sidney Crosby.
Over and over.
He glanced toward the ice, conflicted. The competitor in him was screaming to go back out there. You could see it — the calculation, the stubborn spark. The need to get back out there for his team
You cupped his face gently between your hands. “Don’t be a hero,” you whispered. “Be my husband,”
That did it.
The fire in his eyes softened into something deeper — something that belonged only to you.
“Help me up?” he asked quietly.
“Always” You whispered softly, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him up. You took the majority of his weight, making sure there was no need to add anymore weight on his injured knee. The noise of the arena faded away as you rounded the corner into the locker room. He limped his way over to the bench, his last name labelled proudly above. He sat down with a grimace, you whispered a soft sorry as he bent his knee a little too far.
“I want to go back out there,” He whispers, looking down at the floor.
“Look at me,” You said softly, using your hand under his chin to raise his gaze to meet yours. “You are hurt, your team knows you’d go back out there in a heartbeat but right now you need to look after yourself for a change, they will be okay,” You reassured, a tear slipping down his cheek
“I don’t like not being able to help,” He says, biting his trembling lip softly
Sid didn’t cry very often. But when he did you knew it was bad and your heart broke for him
“I know baby, I know,” You said, standing up and bringing him closer to you. His arms wrapped around your mid section, snuggling in the best he could. Your fingers tangled in his hair, scratching tenderly to soothe him. It was moments like this that you realised;
pairing - sidney crosby x reader
rating - pg
content - fluff
word count - 1.3k
◆ author
The chaos started with the doorbell.
Loud. Repeated.
Absolutely relentless, ringing came bursting through the entire house causing you both to audibly groan into the pillow you called Sid’s very solid chest. The noise didn’t even make him stir, not a movement other than his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
The doorbell rang again — followed by aggressive knocking.
“SID! WE KNOW YOU’RE HOME!”
You both froze, this woke him up.
Sidney’s eyes snapped open and you stared at each other in shock, knowing nothing was going to stop those two getting in the house.
Another knock.
Louder this time, more impatient.
“Your car's in the driveway!” a voice yelled. “Don’t pretend you’re not there!”
You burst out laughing. Sidney dragged a hand down his face in annoyance but he secretly loved it when his teammates showed up unannounced.
“They’re not serious,” he muttered.
Right on cue, someone pounded on the door like they were trying to break it down, a thick boot thudding against the bottom of the front door over and over, if you didn’t know who it was you’d think it was some kind of burglar trying to get in.
“Open up, Captain!”
You squinted at him. “Friends of yours?” You smiled, raising your eyebrows up at him with a huge smile on your face, knowing exactly who was behind that door.
He sighed. “Unfortunately,”
The voice was unmistakable — loud, dramatic, impossible to ignore.
Evgeni Malkin.
And if Geno was here, that meant at least one other Penguin had probably been dragged along for the ride.
“Maybe if we stay quiet they might just go?” you offered, as much as you loved them both, it was rare you and Sid got five minutes together let alone a whole day to lay in, chill and almost catch up.
The doorbell rang again.
Long. Unbroken, signalling a finger not moving from the button on the side of the door.
Sidney groaned and flopped back dramatically against the mattress. “They have a key,” He announced, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.
You shot upright. “They what?” you exclaimed.
“Team emergency spare," He shrugs calmly, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.
“You gave them a spare key?” You repeated, making sure you heard what he said right.
“I didn’t think they’d use it!” He says, smiling.
As if summoned by fate itself, the front door clicked open, meaning they’d finally used the key instead of making a heck of a lot of noise.
You both heard boots stomping inside. Loud whispers. Zero subtlety. You couldn’t help but giggle at their shitty attempt to be quiet, not a care in the world about what they possibly could be interrupting.
“Shoes off!” someone called out. “She’ll yell at us if we don’t!”
You buried your face in your hands. “At least they respect me,” You shrugged, you just mopped the floors the day before and really didn’t fancy having to do it again
Sidney was already climbing out of bed, pulling on sweatpants faster than you’ve ever seen him before. You enjoyed it though, his muscles flexing as he does so, making you almost drool at the sight.
“Don’t move,” he told you.
“Oh no, I don’t think so,” you said, scrambling out from under the blankets and pulling on the first piece of clothing you could find, which just so happened to be his shirt. “I’m not hiding while they invade my house.”
Footsteps thundered down the hallway, gaining speed as they got closer and closer to the door.
Your bedroom door swung open without warning.
There they stood.
Evgeni Malkin, grinning like he’d just won something.
Behind him, trying and failing to look innocent, was Kris Letang.
Both holding coffee cups.
Both fully dressed.
Both clearly far too awake for this hour of the morning after a very busy game the night before.
“There he is!” Geno announced dramatically. “Sleeping beauty!”
Sidney blinked at them. “It’s my day off,”
“Yes,” Letang said calmly. “Which is why we are here?”
You crossed your arms. “Explain please,”
Geno pointed at Sidney. “He say after win, pancakes at his house!"
Sidney looked horrified, “I did not,”
“You did!” Geno insisted. “Locker room! ‘Yeah boys, maybe pancakes tomorrow' huh?’” He says, doing the best Sid impression you’ve ever heard, causing a few giggles to leave your throat.
Sidney turned to you slowly. “That’s not what I meant,”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Seems pretty clear to me, you said pancakes,”
Letang stepped further into the room, glancing around. “We brought coffee. We’re not monsters,” he said with a ‘dur’ tone to his voice.
“You broke into our house,” you replied, smiling widely at the whole situation.
“Technically,” Sidney muttered, “they used a key,"
Geno gasped. “See? Permission!”
Before Sidney could argue, Geno spotted the messy bed and gave him a dramatic look, planting his hand on his chest in fake disgust.
“Ohhh,” he teased. “We interrupt something?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows towards the two of you.
You laughed outright this time.
“You interrupted cuddle time, which is even worse,” You say, trying your hardest to glare at them but the look on their faces caused you to burst out laughing.
Sidney turned red instantly, a cute blush forming on his cheeks. “Out. Both of you,” He orders, shaking his head at his teammates.
Letang held up his hands. “Relax. We’re just here for food,”
“You’re thirty-seven,” Sidney said flatly. “Make your own breakfast,”
“But you make best pancakes,” Geno said, as if this were obvious. “And she supervises,”
You tilted your head. “I supervise?”
“Yes,” Letang nodded seriously. “Very important role,”
Sidney looked between all of you, betrayed.
You shrugged sweetly. “Guess you’d better get the griddle out, Captain,”
He narrowed his eyes at you playfully.
“You’re enjoying this,”
“Very much,”
Geno clapped loudly. “Yes! Pancake time!”
Within minutes, your quiet, cozy, clean kitchen had transformed into complete chaos. Flour and eggs smothered the surface, syrups and other condiments sat around the place. Geno was opening cabinets like he lived there, Letang was leaning casually against the counter, offering unhelpful commentary and shovelling M&Ms in his mouth like nothing mattered.
Sidney stood at the stove in sweatpants and a tight fitting t-shirt, flipping pancakes with the intensity of a playoff game.
“You’re overcooking that one,” you teased, peering over his shoulder on your tip toes.
“I am not,”
“You absolutely are,”
Letang peered over his shoulder. “Little dark, Sid,” He states, earning a chuckle from you.
Sidney shot him a look. “You’re not helping,”
Geno was already seated at the table, pouring a puddle of syrup before there were even pancakes on his plate.
You slid onto a stool, chin resting in your hand as you watched them.
This.
This was the part people didn’t see. The laughter, the calmness, the reality of who these guys really were. You sat back and just smiled, loving the carefree vibe flowing through the kitchen, cheering when Sid flipped the pancake all the way over without dropping it onto the floor. Even the way Sidney pretended to be annoyed but still made extra pancakes anyway.
Geno took his first bite and pointed dramatically at Sidney. “MVP!”
Sidney rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted into a satisfied smirk.
Letang leaned back in his chair. “You know, we should do this after every win,”
“No!” you and Sidney said in perfect unison. You absolutely loved these guys to pieces but sometimes you just needed your Sid.
The teammates burst out laughing.
Sidney glanced at you then — soft, fond, a little apologetic.
You smiled back.
Your peaceful morning had been destroyed.
Your kitchen was loud.
There was syrup on the counter.
And one of the best hockey players in the world was arguing about pancake fluffiness with his best friends.
