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the sweetest sin - part one - sc87

pairing -> sidney crosby x mackinnon little sister!reader

word count -> 4.9k

summary -> After a lifetime of chasing perfection, you walk out on your corporate career with zero notice and retreat to your older brother’s house for a quiet summer of rest. What you never saw happening was falling for his best friend and hockey legend Sidney Crosby, who is twelve years your senior. Sidney has a spotless reputation and a strict moral code that is infamous throughout the league. A strict moral code that explicitly forbids him from crossing the line with his best friend’s younger sister. Unfortunately, his heart doesn’t get the memo. As a heavy attraction pulls you two together in a secret summer bubble, you’re both left wondering: how long can you both resist temptation before the secret is exposed, threatening to turn your new beginning into dust?

warnings -> age gap relationship. anxiety. angst with a happy ending.

msb yaps -> this is my first foray into writing for anything other than f1 and to say it's been fun is SUCH an understatement. it's been such a labor of love and somewhat of a departure of what i usually write. as always, giant thanks to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading even though she's very much not into hockey and always keeping me from walking out into traffic. divider by @diviniyae (ps first person to spy my little easter egg in this chapter gets a gold star!)

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The air at the Halifax Airport terminal tastes like home.

When you step off the escalator that led to baggage claim, you pause for a moment to fill your lungs with the salty, damp earthy scent of your childhood. It’s a heavenly replacement for the stagnant, HVAC-chilled air of your cubicle back in Toronto. It’s free of the invisible, vibrating panic that always radiated from the unread emails that sat in your inbox.

The emails that you officially walked away from just 48 hours ago.

You pulled the straps of your tote bag higher, fingers curling around the worn fabric of the old camera bag you'd dug out of your closet last night. Carrying it felt like holding a piece of your previous life. You hadn’t touched it since high school, back before you’d traded listening to your creative whims for working towards a perfect GPA, then a business degree, and finally a soul crushing 9-5 corporate job that had slowly eroded your spirit until you were nothing more than a ghost starting at a spreadsheet.

For the last four years, your world had been defined by key performance indicators, passive-aggressive Slack messages from your Boomer boss, and the anxiety driven Sunday night dread that made your stomach twist into knots the moment you got out of bed.

When the panic attacks had started last month, you knew you needed to figure something out. There was no way you’d be able to survive another six months living like this.

All it had taken was one tear-filled phone call to your big brother and it had been decided. You’d get your ducks in a row and then come home. It was a simple decision that you’d needed help making, needed help in giving yourself the permission to flee back to the refuge that was your hometown of Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

The moment you’d heard your brother agree that this was the best decision, the crack in your anxiety had shifted something in your chest and you had felt better than you had in years.

When you’d handed in your resignation 2 days later, your boss hadn’t even batted an eye. You’d been prepared to tough it out for the polite 2 week transition period but Clark, the man who regularly haunted your dreams on Sunday nights, had just frowned and said that today would be your last day.

You’d been led out by security holding a box of your belongings 20 minutes later.

“There she is!” A loud booming voice cuts through your distracted memory, slicing through the ambient noise of baggage claim.

You look up and the heavy, phantom weight in your chest lightens instantly. Your brother is leaning against a pillar next to your flights assigned baggage carousel, wearing a backwards baseball hat and a faded Colorado Avalanche hoodie. He looks exactly like the Nathan MacKinnon that is the league portrays him to be: big, broad, and slightly unkempt.

To you though, he’s just Nate. He’s just the older brother who used to tease you until you cried and had a bad habit of leaving smelly hockey gear drying in the mudroom until the whole house smelled a locker room. He's the older brother that would've laid down his life for you, who was fiercely protective and would do anything in his power to make sure you were happy.

When he catches your gaze, Nate’s face splits wide open into a massive grin. He closes the distance in three long strides, throwing his arms around your shoulders as he pulls you into a rib-crushing bear hug. He smells like laundry soap and the ice rink, two familiar scents that makes your heart ache for home.

“Look at you.” Nate says when he pulls back to look at you, concern flickering across his face as he leaves a heavy, protective hand on your shoulder. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Thanks a lot, big bro!” You snort, shoving his hand as you roll your eyes.

Nate follows after you as you retreat towards the baggage carousel, your arms crossed over your chest.

"Aw, come on kiddo, I’m just teasing.” His voice drops to a calmer, placating tone as you spot your suitcase trundling around the moving belt. “We’re all worried about you, mom and dad, me and Charlotte. That place was sucking the life out of you. I’m just glad you’re here, okay?”

You sigh, the knot in your chest loosening even further. "I know you are and I’m glad I’ve got you guys to fall back on so I can just rest for a little bit, not have to worry about anything.”

Nate steps forward, grabbing both of your cream colored suitcases off of the belt.

As he sets them down in front of you, he grins. “You’re home now, okay? No spreadsheets, no meetings. Just ocean air, early mornings, and an ice rink full of mini hockey players.” You roll your eyes at the last one, but Nate sees the smile tug at the corner of your lips. “It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“Yeah, a summer spent corralling a bunch of kids and professional hockey players, sounds super low stress.”

You follow your brother out to the parking garage, inhaling the salty sea air that makes you feel at home.

Nate turns around, narrowing his eyes at you, “You love that special brand of chaos, don't even try to lie."

The humidity outside is thick but sweet, there’s a heaviness in the air that feels like a warm hand on your back. He’s parked close so it doesn’t take too long to reach his Explorer, the blacked out SUV one of his favorites to drive during the summer.

You climb into the passenger side, the door shutting with a heavy thud that seems to block out the rest of the world. Nate cranks the AC as he turns the car on, sending a blast of crisp air towards your face.

“Alright, the set up we’ve got going this year is going to be amazing.” Nate says, resting one hand on the steering wheel while the other reaches into the console for a bottle of water. “It’s also going to be a total zoo and I’m going to need you to help keep everything running smoothly.”

“I told you, I’ll organize whatever you need. Just please for the love of God, don’t make me look at an Excel sheet or edit a marketing message, okay?” Leaning back against the headrest, you let out a long breath as you watch the trees slip by outside.

Nate laughs, a loud, booming sound that settles the homesickness that had taken up permanent residence in your chest.

“No spreadsheets, no editing anything, I swear. I really just need your help with the camp. Sid and I started it years ago, you know that. It’s our baby. We had to hire some guys who run the youth league during the season a few years ago because it got so big. They take care of the on-ice coaching and running of the program and they’re great with the kids.”

“So what do you need me for if you’ve got them?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re my gatekeeper.” Nate says with a sly grin. “The sessions run week-by-week all summer. We’ve got kids of all ages coming, some of them are only registered for one week but a bunch of the local kids are signed up for every session. I need you at the front desk in the mornings to handle check-ins, group assignments, dealing with parents and making sure everyone gets where they need to go. I’ll make sure you have everything you need, you just have to be the glue that keeps everything together.”

He glances over at you while he’s stopped at a red light, his eyes dropping to the camera bag resting in your lap “You gonna pick that thing up this summer again too?”

Your fingers flex around the strap as your gaze drops down to the smooth leather, “Yeah.” You say quietly. “I miss having something creative to do. I was always so tired after work that I just couldn’t do much more than watch tv on the couch and scroll on TikTok.”

Nate smiles over at you, a genuine proud brother kind of grin that has your chest squeezing. “Good. You always took the best pictures of me at games.”

You snort and roll your eyes.

“And I mean, look, if you get bored, you can always throw on a pair of skates and help the kids out on the ice.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You say quickly, shaking your head fiercely. “My days of being on skates are over. I will happily take all the photos you want but I will not be touching the ice in any way shape or form.”

“Suit yourself.” Nate says with a shrug. “It’s not going to be a quiet summer though, are you going to be okay with that?”

“How bad can a bunch of kids be?”

“It’s not just camp, Sid and I are doing our full summer conditioning program and ice training there too. We’ve become quite the summer destination for a bunch of the pro guys too, there’s always a massive group that end up hanging around to work out with us all summer.”

Your eyebrows go up. “Who else is in town?”

Nate starts rattling off names like he’s reading a fantasy draft roster “Marchy is around, obviously. Tanger is here for a week or two while Cath is visiting her sisters. A bunch of younger guys started coming around the last few years - Celebrini and Will Smith because those two are inseparable. Sam Dickinson is the third stooge in that group. I’m sure other guys will drop in randomly, it becomes a mad house most weekends to be honest.”

The sheer volume of elite athletes in one local rink makes your head spin a little. Sometimes you forgot just how well-known your brother was in the hockey world and when you were reminded of it, it made you sit back in awe of his accomplishments a little.

“And they’re all just…hanging around?”

Nate shrugs as he pulls onto the highway, heading towards home. “I mean, we work pretty hard during the day. Sid and I are on the ice early with everyone for on-ice workouts but a few mornings a week after we’re done, we hang around to help with camp. Most of the other guys drop in to help with the camps too, the kids eat it up, getting to rub elbows with the pros. It’s a lot of moving parts to be honest, a lot of chaos. Pros wandering in and out, kids running around, parents trying to corral bunches of siblings.” Nate reaches over, playfully shoving at your shoulder. “See why I need my smart, organized sister? If Sid and I tried to coordinate everything, the rink would burn down by July.”

You smile, looking back out the window as you get closer to home. The burnout still feels like a heavy, dull ache in your bones but listening to your brother talk, a tiny spark of excitement actually manages to break through the fog. A summer surrounded by the crisp smell of the rink, the sound of blades carving out paths in the ice, the chaos of the athletes that you know are like rowdy children, and your old camera in your hands.

It’s a completely unstructured, detached existence from the buttoned up corporate world you’ve barely survived over the last few years. As you roll your window down, breathing in the salty coastal air deep into your lungs, you realize it may just be exactly what you need.

The house is completely yours that first Saturday morning and it feels like heaven. Nate had left early for a workout with a few of the guys, leaving you with nothing but a quiet kitchen and a massive craving for something sweet.

You’ve got a big bowl of double chocolate brownie batter on the counter, which you’d promised Nate you’d bake for whatever crowd inevitably ended up at the house later that night. These were the kind of summer nights you’d been used to before you’d headed off to college: late nights, bonfires, random friends fluttering in and out of the house. It was nostalgic in the most grounding way, the anticipation of an entire summer filled with nothing but these kinds of days and nights made your skin feel like it was vibrating.

With no emails to answer and no Teams meetings to join, you felt freer than you had in years.

Nate hadn’t been out of the house long before you’d connected your phone to the house bluetooth speakers, blasting your favorite Molly Chapman playlist so loud the marble counters were practically vibrating.

You’re completely lost in your own world, convinced that the concert you’re giving the brownie batter is a Grammy worthy performance. Skipping across the hardwood floors in your socks, you bump your hip against the refrigerator door as you shut it after grabbing the carton of eggs. By the time the chorus hits, you’re fully committed.

You aren’t just humming along to the words - the songs off of her new album “Lover Girl” already memorized - you’re full on belting out every single word. Every time you listened to this album you said a silent prayer of thanks to Lando Norris for inspiring the album that was absolutely your favorite thing Molly had ever put out.

You grab a silicone spatula, dripping with batter, and use it as a makeshift microphone, belting out the lyrics to the empty room as you do a ridiculously dramatic spin past the oven.

You’re laughing at yourself, hair tumbling messily out of a claw clip, totally consumed by the music and freedom of having absolutely nowhere to be. It’s the most alive you’ve felt in such a long time and you’re desperate to hold onto this feeling, to make sure that you’re never without it for long ever again.

Because of the music, you don’t hear the heavy thud of the front door opening. You also fail to notice the squeak of the sneakers in the entryway too.

And you definitely don’t notice when Sidney Crosby walks into the kitchen, carrying a bag of ice in one hand and a case of beer in the other.

Sidney stops dead in his tracks when he realizes what he’s interrupting.

Quietly, he sets everything down, his eyes locking onto you. A look of amusement washes over his face as he takes in the scene in front of him. There are ingredients scattered everywhere, a giant Kitchen Aid mixer whirring away on the island, and streaks of flour and cocoa powder scattered on the wood floor beneath your feet.

He doesn’t say a word.

Instead, Sid just crosses his arms over his chest, shifts his weight, and leans his broad shoulder right against the wooden doorframe, a brilliant grin breaking across his face as he watches you perform for your imaginary audience.

For a solid thirty seconds, he just watches.

The last time he had seen you, you had been a quiet, reserved teenager buried in textbooks and worried about exams. But now? Now you were vibrant and laughing, completely unbothered as you hit a particularly dramatic high note into your spatula.

There’s a sudden, heavy warmth that flares in Sidney's chest as he watches you. It’s a strange jolt of realization of just how beautiful become, a feeling that catches him off guard.

You belt out the last few notes, doing a triumphant and theatrical turn back towards the island to throw the spatulas into an empty bowl.

As you turn, your eyes catch on the doorway.

You freeze.

Sidney is standing right in front of you, looking every bit the elite athlete you know him to be in a fitted black t-shirt and athletic shorts, his dark hair shoved underneath a backwards facing baseball hat, arms crossed as he watches you with a mixture of amusement and delight.

You let out a genuine, blood-curdling scream, your reflexes kicking in as you chuck the spatula across the room straight at Sidney's chest. It flies through the air, flipping twice before landing with a wet, heavy smack right against the front of his t-shirt.

“Sidney Patrick Crosby!” You shriek, stomping your foot like an actual toddler, eyes going wide with absolute horror, “You nearly sent me into cardiac arrest, you asshole!”

Sid looks down at his chest and then back up at you. For a moment, he just stares, eyes wide.

And then, he completely loses it.

Throwing his head back, he starts laughing so hard you’re concerned he might choke. For a moment, you hope he does. It’s a loud, deep, and wildly infectious sound that echoes through your chest, sending butterflies into a tizzy in the pit of your stomach.

He’s clutching his sides as he steps into the kitchen after picking up the offending spatula off the floor. He tries to wipe the batter off of the front of his shirt but only succeeds in smearing it even more into the fabric.

“I’m so sorry, Little Mac.” You purse your lips at the juvenile nickname, momentarily forgetting to be mortified. “I just didn’t want to interrupt your performance. I never meant to scare you, Scouts honor.”

“You were never Boy Scout, you idiot.” You fire back, your cheeks flushing crimson as you watch Sid lean a hip against the counter. “And don’t call me Little Mac. I’m twenty-six years old for fucks sakes.”

“With the mouth of a sailor too, Jesus.” Sid teases, voice edged with laughter as he barely catches the roll of paper towels you (not so gently) throw at him.

“I’m sorry.” He soothes, grinning over at you in a way that has your heart kicking against your ribs. “You were just so into the performance, I didn’t want to ruin the show.”

“You’re the worst.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands for a second before looking up at him through your fingers.

The childhood crush you had thought you’d outgrown doesn’t just return as you watch him watch you - it slams into you with the force of a freight train.

Up close, Sid is taller, broader, his presence entirely overwhelming and magnetic. He steps closer to you, tossing the paper towel in the trash, his eyes never leaving yours. The humor in his expression softens into something warmer as he takes in the sight of you covered in flour, your hair messy and your cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink he’s ever seen.

“It’s good to see you.” Sid says softy, his voice dropping into that quiet, low tone that makes your stomach do a dizzying flip. “Even if you did just assault me with a kitchen utensil.”

“It was self-defense.” You sneer, shoving aside the butterflies as you give him a playful, flirty glare. “I should have you charged with breaking and entering.”

“It’s not breaking and entering if I know the front door code.” Sid lets out another quiet chuckle, his gaze dropping to your lips for the quickest of moments before he drags it back up to your eyes.

You watch the muscle in his jaw tick.

Your chest tightens as the atmosphere in the room shifts, suddenly sparking with a brand new, adult kind of tension that has your mind spinning.

“But, you’re right. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” He murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Next time, I’ll knock.”

“Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time!” You grab a clean spatula from one of the many drawers in the island and start in on scraping the brownie batter from the side of the mixing bowl.

Sidney pulls out one of the barstools at the island, flipping it around so he can fold his arms over the backrest. He watches as you carefully grease the inside of a baking dish, his eyes tracking the way your nervous energy settles into something a bit more calm now that the initial shock of being caught giving a kitchen concert has worn off.

“So.” He starts, your ears perk up at how he’s softened his tone into something quieter and more genuine. “Nate said you’re officially done with city girl life, left the corporate world behind.”

You huff a soft, self-deprecating laugh, leaning back against the opposite counter and cross your arms. “That’s one way of putting it. It felt like I was escaping a burning building, not just walking away from some job. I swear I woke up one day and couldn’t remember the last time I felt excited about anything. I was living for the weekend but even then, I couldn’t escape the anxiety.” You shrug as heat prickles at the back of your neck.

Being this vulnerable with someone like Sidney was difficult. At the same time though, the way he was looking at you, like you mattered, like you had something worthy to say and how he actively leaned forward when you got quiet? It made something in your chest ache and that was equally as unnerving.

Sidney nods slowly. There’s no judgement in his expression, just a calm sense of understanding. It dawns on you then - that he’s lived pretty much his entire life under the crushing weight of public scrutiny and insane expectations. He knew exactly what it was like to carry such a heavy burden, even if his was a different sort of pain.

“Burnout is rough.” He says, his dark eyes watching you with a sort of intensity that makes the breath catch in the back of your throat. “Sometimes the hardest part is just admitting you need to stop. I think it takes guts to actually do it.”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, guilt pressing thickly against your sternum.

“I feel so stupid for allowing something as trivial as emails and spreadsheets to send me over the edge.” You pause, laughing softly to yourself. “I haven’t said that out loud yet.”

Sidney watches you, gaze sharp with that lopsided grin he’s known for throughout the league. “Anxiety is rarely rational and I think it makes you stronger than a lot of people just by admitting you needed to do something different.”

“Well, right now, different just feels like chaos.” You admit, gesturing to the messy kitchen, the flour on your hands, your camera sitting on the stool next to him. “But being here, having the camp to look forward to and a whole stretch of summer with nothing to be concerned about, it’s the first time I’ve felt like myself in a really long time. I even pulled my camera out of the back of my closet before I left Toronto.”

Sid’s eyes drop to the camera next to him before tracking back up to your face. He smiles at you so genuinely, your stomach does a nervous flip that makes you lean more of your weight onto the counter behind you.

“Good. You always had an eye for it back when you were in school. I remember Nate would not shut up about your senior show the summer you graduated high school.”

You tilt your head to the side, watching Sidney closely as he talks. He was older than Nate by several years and had always given you ‘big brother’ vibes in the most platonic way, not that that had stopped you from developing a silly little school girl crush back then. He knew you when you were an awkward teenager and had still made time to talk to you whenever he would see you wandering around the rink while Nate was at practice.

Here in the kitchen though, with you being older and Sidney looking at you with a different kind of expression that edged towards admiration and something else that felt distinctly more adult and heated, you wondered if there could be more to the two of you than just ‘your big brother’s best friend’.

Before you can put too much thought to what you know is a reckless, stupid idea, the heavy thud of the front door echoing through the hallway shatters the intimacy that had been blooming between you and Sidney.

“Sister dear! I brought reinforcements and refreshments!” Nate’s voice bounces off the walls, followed immediately by the chaotic sound of multiple pairs of shoes, loud laughter, and the distinctive, high-energy chatter that you knew meant there were more hockey players in the house now.

Nate bursts into the kitchen first, looking sweaty and slightly windswept from his workout. Right on his heels is Brad Marchand, who is mid-sentence, arguing loudly with Macklin Celebrini, Will Smith, and Sam Dickinson. Bringing up the rear is Kris Letang, who is on the phone talking to someone in rapid French. The younger guys are carrying grocery bags and cases of drinks, shoving past each other like a litter of golden retriever puppies.

“Hey! Look who beat us here.” Nate grins, clapping Sidney on the shoulder before dropping a sweaty kiss on the top of your head. When he finally gets a good look at the front of Sidney’s shirt, he stops. “What the hell happened?”

“Your sister assaulted me with a kitchen utensil.” Sidney says smoothly, though his eyes dart over to you with a lingerings spark of mischief in them.

“Sounds about right.” Nate laughs, completely oblivious to the lingering tension in the air.

He grabs a massive pack of steaks from the fridge and hands it over to Brad, who bumps his shoulder with yours as he passes you on his way towards the back sliding door.

“Come on, Little Mac.” You shoot Sidney a death glare when he barks a laugh at the nickname. “Help me get these unwrapped and ready for the grill so the three stooges over here don’t get hangry.”

“Oh for fucks sakes, will you people stop it with the Little Mac!” You cry, throwing your hands in the air but follow Brad towards the door without further complaint.

“But it’s just so much fun riling you up.” Sidney says, that signature Crosby grin hitching up at the corner of his mouth.

“Careful, Captain Canada or the next weapon I use on you won’t be a silicone spatula.” You wink but are secretly glad that you now have a reason to escape the kitchen that had started to feel just a bit too small with just you and Sidney alone in it.

Without another word, you follow both Nate and Brad through the back door towards the patio.

The moment the glass door clicks shut behind you, the energy in the kitchen shifts.

Sam watches you walk down the deck steps through the window and then turns around to look at the rest of the guys, shaking his head. “Nate never mentioned his sister was a total smoke show. Why didn’t anyone warn me?”

“Seriously.” Will mutters, leaning against the counter, looking thoroughly impressed. “She’s stunning.”

Macklin looks over at the door, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I might have to volunteer to help her at the check in desk on Monday. Do you think she likes younger guys?”

From his spot near the fridge, Kris snorts. He takes a pull of his beer and looks over at Sidney, who hasn’t moved from his spot at the island.

Sidney stiffens. The relaxed, amused expression he had while talking to you is completely gone, replaced by the rigid, formidable presence of a veteran captain. His jaw is tight, brow slightly furrowed, and he narrows his eyes as he glares at the three younger guys.

“Knock that shit off.” He snaps. He’s not loud but the tone is sharp, carrying an authoritative weight that instantly cuts through the light hearted feeling in the room.

Will, Macklin, and Sam all freeze, looking over at him with various levels of surprise.

Sidney leans forward, his hands flat on the marble countertop as he levels a lethal gaze at them. “First of all, she’s here to rest and clear her head, not get hit on by a bunch of idiots. Second of all, if any of you so much as think about making a move on her, Nate will bury you in the woods. He would kill all three of you without a second thought. And I’d help him hide the bodies, so lay off.”

Kris lets out a cackling laugh, clapping a hand on Macklin’s shoulder. “He’s not lying either. Nate is a certified psycho when it comes to YN. Keep your hands off the prettier MacKinnon if you want to start next season with both hands.”

Will and Sam exchange a wide-eyed, intimidated look as they both nod quickly.

“Got it.” Will says weakly.

“Loud and Clear.” Sam agrees.

Sid lets out a quiet, tight breath as his eyes drift back out the window towards the deck where you’re laughing at something Nate is saying. He swallows hard, his knuckles whitening slightly against the marble countertop. He had talked a big game about Nate’s rules but as he watches you stretch your arms out to your sides in the warm summer sun, he realizes the warning wasn’t just for the three stooges.

It was for him too.

yn_snaps posted!

5,928 likes liked by mackinnon29, mackcelebrini, _willsmith2 and others yn_snaps: home sweet home friend1 GIRL you're not in toronto for the summer??? >>>yn_snaps nope, quit my job and ran away to tame hockey boys >>>friend1 omg living my dream life fr >>>yn_snaps don't be too jealous. the kitchen stinks like smelly hockey gloves 99% of the time. user22 the whole nhl up in yn's likes user45 how does it feel to be god's favorite??? mackcelebrini if i promise not to throw you into the lake again, will you make me a s'more tomorrow night? >>>_willsmith2 WHAT did dad say about flirting with the prettier mackinnon >>>yn_snaps YEAH WHAT DID DAD SAY (who is dad?) >>>mackinnon29 YN is not prettier than me >>>mackcelebrini hate to break it to ya bud but...

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fallinallincurls

ohhhmygod i’m going to love this!! first off, loved the little easter egg of lando and molly omg but the TENSION that already exists between her and sid is INSANE!! i’m already so invested and can’t wait to see how this all plays out!