Hockey Fanfic Novels & Stories

Everything about him felt easy. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, I didn’t hesitate. But he left. The moment he got the opportunity to become a hockey player, he chose it and left me behind. I remembered how broken I felt back then. How I cried for days, how I waited for him to come back, to explain, to say something that would make it hurt less. He never did. That was the moment I started hating hockey. Because to me, it took my love away. I almost forgot Duke was standing there until I felt his presence shift slightly beside me.

In comic sans. **ME:** Tank doesn’t do comic sans. He has standards. **SLOANE:** HIS STANDARDS INCLUDE INKING TWO PEOPLE COPULATING ONTO AN NHL PROSPECT **ME:** My favorite sports **SLOANE:** Hockey is a sport. What you are describing is a public health hazard. **ME:** It’s cardio, Winters. Highly aerobic. Good for the hips. Tank wiped my spine down with a green-soap soaked paper towel, the sting sharp enough to make my shoulder blades twitch. “Kid, if you keep typing, your left trap is gonna seize up. Who is this girl, your parole officer?”

COLE The rain wasn't just falling; it was trying to beat its way through the metal roof of the compound's garage. I was sitting on a workbench, sharpening my spare skates. The sound of the grinding stone was rhythmic and calming. In here, surrounded by the smell of motor oil, cold steel, and old tires, I felt like a regular guy again. I wasn't the Silverfang Prince or a spy. I was just a hockey player named Theo who happened to be deeply in love with a girl who could freeze a lake with a thought.

Yet this girl, who spent two years writing my name in a notebook she never wanted me to see, walked right through my defenses in a single afternoon. Maybe it was because she didn't flinch when I spoke. Most people looked at me and saw a future NHL draft pick or a target. When I talked to Cheryl, she looked at me like I was just a person. Or maybe it was because she handed me her own wreckage first. The shattered ankle, the bitter sister she still wouldn't name, the version of herself that hockey had stolen away. I've never been good at taking without giving something back. Richard made sure of that early. In our house, nothing was ever free.

I shake my head. “Caspian is your boyfriend,” she continues in a convincing tone. “And he’s the second-best hockey player after the idiot I refuse to name.” She waves a hand dismissively. “He’ll coach you.” “Yeah… except Coach Greg paired me with Hu.” Hana’s face falls. “What?” she shrieks, her hands slipping from my face. “No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening.” She shakes her head aggressively. “I do not want him near any of my best friends because he is a—”

Chapter 13 Adele Wilson I walked inside the ice hockey arena at exactly 5:30 A.M. My legs halted forcefully as I spotted Jason on the ice rink, skating. Fingers curled tightly around the hockey stick as he moved the puck speedily across the rink. I had pictured everything in my mind. How beautiful and perfect I would be after Jason helped me lose some weight as he had promised, but I couldn't bring myself to continue this. Not when my father's life is in jeopardy.

I was supposed to hate him. Falling for him was never part of the plan. Jamie Bronte has everything people dream of—talent, money, fame, and a future waiting for him in the hockey world. What he doesn’t have is freedom. Trapped beneath the expectations of a powerful father who controls every part of his life, Jamie has perfected the art of pretending everything is fine. Until Asher Blackstone arrives. Asher is everything Jamie shouldn’t want. Arrogant. Competitive. Infuriatingly irresistible. And his newest rival on the ice. Everyone knows Asher carries a dangerous secret. Six months ago, his former best friend disappeared under suspicious circumstances, leaving behind a sc

Barnabythebear: Just someone who appreciates a man who can handle a stick. My face heats up, a flush crawling up my neck. The memory of the alley rushes back, the rough brick against my shoulders, the way those gloved paws held my hips, the desperate, needy sounds I made. I swallow hard, my throat clicking. I have a girlfriend, I shouldn't be thinking about that. Me: Seriously, who is this? Barnabythebear: A fan. A very dedicated one. I heard you're good with your hands.

Present day. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are here for the biggest hockey game of the century!" The commentator's voice boomed through the arena speakers, electrifying the crowd of forty thousand screaming fans. "The NHL Championship Finals, and clearly, Jace Harrington is the man of the match! This is the comeback we've all been waiting for, and folks, I have to tell you, Harrington is not here to play around. He's out for blood!" The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wall of sound that should have thrilled me but instead felt hollow. Empty.

I had my legs tucked under me while he worked through some light seated core exercises. The TV played low in the background, but neither of us was paying attention. His hand kept finding mine between sets, thumb brushing gently over my knuckles like a reminder that we were in this together. My phone rang suddenly, cutting through the quiet. I glanced at the screen and my stomach dropped. It was my mom. I hesitated for half a second before answering, putting it on speaker so Ronan could hear. “Hey, Mom.” “Ivy Grace Summers,” my mother’s voice came through sharp and worried. “What on earth is going on? Your father and I just saw the latest article. They’re saying you’re involved with one of yo