Hockey Booktok Drama Novels & Stories

Liora Devereux POV “Another!,” I ordered drunkily, the bartender stared at me with pityness in his eyes. “Miss, you are drunk. You have to stop…,” “i am not drunk!,” I cried, slamming my chubby hands on the bar table, the bartender rolled his eyes and passed me the glass cup. I downed it, as I wept bitterly. I was here to congratulate my boyfriend of five years for winning the hockey game, his team's slot to the finals and today was also our anniversary. Another chance of him getting drafted into the NFL

Adrian POV The bus hummed with the roar of a team that had just conquered the world. The New York Titans were loud. Hockey sticks rattled in the overhead storage while helmets rolled beneath the seats. Laughter bounced off the ceiling panels, and beer cans cracked open with rhythmic pops. My teammates joked about the championship finals, their voices thick with the confidence of men who believed nothing could touch them.

"We run the joker play. We run it exactly how we drilled it." "With Danica?" Riot asked, pulling up on my left, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. "You think she's going to feed you the puck after that stunt with the K-pop star? Wake up, Caleb. The circus is over. The only way we save this season is if we play hockey, not politics." The referee's whistle blew, a sharp, piercing command that shattered the pre-game chatter. The starting lines moved toward the center circle. The third period of Game 8 was finally here. The scoreboard flashed a fragile 2-1 lead for Harrison, twenty minutes of brutal, unyielding ice standing between us and the final horn.

Inside were neatly arranged stacks of papers, pamphlets, and training documents organized into separate compartments. I reached inside and pulled out a single pamphlet. "Hockey: Rules and Code of Conduct." The bold lettering stood out beneath the unmistakable UCLA emblem printed across the cover. I held it out before closing the cabinet again. Out of habit, I wiped my fingerprints from the keypad with my handkerchief before returning it to my pocket. Damon accepted the booklet. His jaw remained tightly clenched, eyes burning with resentment, and humiliation. And beneath both, there was an even more powerful emotion simmering. A quiet rage. Thirst for vengeance and attack.

He didn’t even care that I hadn’t consented to that video! “I don’t want to hear excuses, you won’t be going to Toronto this weekend anymore… I'll be sending you to grandmas, surely you can work on the farm…” His words slowly drowned out and I turned to leave ignoring his calls. I hated them… This time j meant it… just one night I had leg loose and foolishly trusted them only for them to ruin my life. What I couldn’t understand was why? Why they had done it?! Perhaps to put me I. My image? Or to break me? As I walked past their room, I heard the hockey team mirror their girlfriends' laughter.

The headlines were worse. ‘Hockey star Duke Smith spotted with mystery woman. Is he cheating? My chest tightened. The comments were wild. I shouldn’t have read them. But I did. ‘Who is she? She definitely threw herself at him.’ ‘I want to see her face. Let’s see how she looks.’ ‘No woman comes between Duke and Lisa. They are our power couple ‘She’s probably ugly, that’s why he’s hiding her face’ I couldn’t read anymore. My hands started shaking. My breathing became uneven again.

Then the distance turned sharp. Now he barely looked at me. When he did, it was with that blank hockey-player stare, like I was just another face in the crowd he skated past. I turned the corner toward the library — my safe zone during lunch — and nearly collided with a broad chest wrapped in a letterman jacket. Strong hands caught my elbows to steady me. The scent hit first: clean sweat, mint gum, and something colder, like ice from the rink. Jax. Up close he looked even taller than on the ice. Dark hair still damp from morning practice, jaw tight, eyes the kind of blue that used to make me feel seen. Today they flicked over me quickly — recognition, then something unreadable.

I was carrying Damien's baby. Damien Volkov. The captain of Boston Wolves. Hockey's golden boy. One of the nation's most loved hockey stars. And I was now the mother of his child. The thought made my heart swell with joy. This news could change everything. If he found out that his child was growing inside me, maybe Damien would finally look at me. Maybe he would finally love me as his wife Maybe he would finally be proud enough to show me off to the public as NHL's Damien Volkov's wife.

Hephzibah’s POV My biggest mistake wasn’t falling for my stepbrother. It was letting his rival discover every filthy detail I’d written about it even my secret identity. "It's time for the semi-final round of the hockey game of the year! Will the Blades take over like before, or will the freshman be the champion of the season?" The presenter’s voice echoed loudly in the basement while the game was still ongoing. Still reapplying my lip gloss, I stood up to cheer for the winning team last year—the most exciting game ever: hockey sports. The pitch was filled with tension as students cheered them up.