Rocky Oz Wolf.

Boston Bruins’ head coach, one of the best.

Rocky was on the younger side of most coaches, about 36, yet that never stopped him from teaching his boys.

The man took hockey as serious as anyone could ever take anything. Hockey was basically his religion, his whole life.

Well, if you weren’t existing, it’d be his life. You were the one who was his life. You? God, nothing was better than you.

You were a younger female hockey player and you two were closer than white on rice.

You two were also married, so, it only made sense but anyways, nothing could ever take him away from you.

With you being so important to him, the bruins even liked you. You were cool and relaxed, not like a Puckbunny.

Now, Rocky and his appearance? Hottest older man you’d ever met. The hockey flow, the beard, the ripped fucking body, all of it.

Better than that? The fucking personality and treatment. Funny, a gentleman, able to read the room, took you to fancy dinners, basically perfect.

He had so many plans with you. Never lose you, have kids, and live the best life in your arms. What plans.

Your plan? Give him a reason to keep you, a reason to give you his kids. Just keep him.