#avs imagine

[offside-the-lines]

Am I Ready (To Be Loved) | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Nate is not known to be impulsive, especially when it comes to love. So what happens when he gets a crazy idea while hungover the day after the Avalanche Stanley Cup parade. a/n: Happy Holidays folks! My first fic back (on this new blog) is a reworking of a fic I wrote for my Winter Prompt request last year (for @fallinallincurls). Thought I needed to start somewhere. This is obviously set in 2022 because I can't stand the idea of the avs squad being different. It also features some of our fave tropes. Pairing: Nathan McKinnon x Female!OC Words: 8K Warnings: alcohol Requests: Open | Masterlist

Charlotte hated these fancy functions. The schmoozing and the small talk were things that made her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin. No matter how much she would normally enjoy conversation, this just felt fake. And she knew how ridiculous it was. She worked in media. She was always in front of cameras. She took this job knowing this was a requirement. It doesn’t change the truth that, at her core, she would rather be on the couch watching some TV show on Netflix.

Although this wasn’t the first formal event she’d ever been to, this was the first Colorado Avalanche donors’ function. It didn’t help that she had only been working as a correspondent for Altitude TV for a few months; so many knew her name and her face, but no one really knew her personally. So, it was just smile, small talk, comment on the Avs, rinse and repeat.

After an hour or so of this, she was feeling done. Heading to the bar for a drink and found a cocktail table in the corner of the room, tucked near the obscenely large Christmas Tree, where she could just stand and watch. Charlotte looked around the room and wondered how long she had to stay before it was not inappropriate to leave.

“Hate these parties too, eh?” a familiar voice rang beside her.

Despite her shattered solitude, the voice brought out a smile on her face. “What do you mean? I don’t hate this?” she replied, not putting in much effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She turned to face the voice and the sight almost startled her a little as she felt her face warm. There stood Nathan Mackinnon in his perfectly tailored navy suit, eyes shining in the dim lighting. She takes a drink quickly to distract herself, reminding herself to be a professional.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “hiding in a dark corner isn’t avoiding the party, Charlotte.”

She shrugs as she turns her eyes back to the party.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in her ear, making her neck tingle a little, “I really don’t like these parties either. I would rather be at home on the couch with my dog watching TV.”

As he leaned back to sip his drink, she turned to him in surprise. “Oh yeah? Like what? More hockey tape?”

After a bit of light banter, they find that they have the same favorite show, much to Charlotte’s surprise. In the dim corner of a fancy event, they are quoting their favorite lines to each other, trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, hiding themselves behind their drinks so as to not draw too much attention at such a fancy event. Charlotte’s laughing so hard she snorts a little, causing Nate to look at her in surprise before continuing to laugh even harder, drawing some looks from the donors and teammates closest to them. After a while, when they both finally calm down, she feels herself relax a little.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before Nate spoke up again. “You know, Charlotte. You ask me questions all the time, but I don’t think I really know anything about you other than your name and your job title.”

“I mean, I only really ever ask you questions about the game or the team,” she responds.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me,” he said pointedly, but softly. He had a point; it was her job to know as much about the players as possible.

“Okay, I know about NHL Hockey Player, Avs’ Center, Forward Extraordinaire Nathan “Nate the Dogg” Mackinnon,” she says, flashing her hands in front as if to signal an imaginary banner, “I don’t know Nate “a dude who sits on his couch with his dog watching dumb shows” Mackinnon.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he responds deep in thought. “Fine, how about we play 20 questions? You ask me a question; I ask you a question.”

“How very high school, Nathan,” she pauses to think about it. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about this new friendship. On the one hand, it is her job to get to know the players. Although, she was pretty sure that the fraternizing was only supposed to be in professional contexts. On the other hand, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. And at the end of the day, it was Nathan Mackinnon, and he wanted to get to know her. Besides, she knew that he didn’t really date anyway, so she felt safe that there was one of them keeping their feelings in check. Eventually, she responds with a nod, “Sure.”

“Okay!” He said excitedly, his blue eyes lighting up, “Where are you from? Where did you grow up and go to college and stuff?”

“Nathan, that’s two questions. Should I deduct points from you?”

“There are points now?”

“I’m just kidding.”

And so, they went back and forth getting to know each other, talking animatedly, and laughing heartily, until they got through the 20 questions each. At one point, they had migrated to a table to continue sitting down because Nate noticed she was shifting on her feet from the heels. Charlotte was pretty certain that Nate now knew her better than anyone else in Denver.

Eventually, EJ came over and tapped Nate on the shoulder at which point she looked up and realized that most of his teammates and donors had left and they were a few of the last people remaining in the event space.

“Hey,” EJ smiled at you in his signature toothless way, “good to see you’re having fun, Charlotte.”

“Thanks, EJ,” she smiled back.

“Mac Daddy, you’re kind of my ride home, so… are you ready to leave?” EJ said laughing and looked at Charlotte, “I don’t think I’ve ever had to pull Nathan here away from a party before. He is usually begging me to leave.”

Nate bumped his elbow into EJ, not drawing much of a response, as he quickly looked away from her. She could have sworn his cheeks were turning a little pink, but that could also be the lighting.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s late and I want to be up for morning skate tomorrow, unlike you lazy idiots,” Nathan grumbled standing up.

She stood up too, only now realizing how tired you were. “Yeah, damn, it’s late. Well, I had a great time talking to you Nathan,” sending him a warm smile and a nod, “EJ. See you two later.”

As she started walking away, she heard some whispers behind her before Nate called out, “Hey, Charlotte, you good to get home? I mean, do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um… Actually… Sure. That would be nice. Thanks!”

She saw EJ whisper something in Nate’s ear before he was quickly shoved away. Suddenly feeling awkward, she trailed behind them quietly to Nate’s car. As soon as it was in sight, EJ called shotgun and started making a run for it, slipping a little on the ice, making Charlotte and Nate snort with laughter.

Nate offered a hand to guide her across the slippery ground and opened the car door for her, keeping his hand on her as she climbed in. She directed Nate to her apartment, thanking him and EJ quickly as she left. Once she got into her apartment, Charlotte leaned against the door and just smiled for a bit.

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the car, EJ was basically yelling at Nate.

“Dude, you dog, what was that?”

“EJ, stop.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never seen you talk to someone for that long. Not even Barrie or Sid.”

“She was easy to talk to. And it was a good way to get through the event.”

“Nate, don’t give me that bullshit.” EJ’s voice is rarely serious, but it is now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” Nate shrugged.

The rest of the ride to EJ’s house is quiet and as Nate pulled into the driveway, EJ finally spoke up again, “Tell me you at least got her number.”

“Shit,” Nate let out under his breath before he could stop himself.

“Oh my god, you idiot. You didn’t get her number.”

Nate let out a groan and tapped his forehead firmly on his steering wheel in frustration. As EJ shook his head, and said his goodbyes, Nate’s head was whirring with thoughts. There was no smooth way to ask for her number now. It’s like he missed an exit on the freeway and there was no way off now. The alcohol and the adrenaline meant he didn’t sleep much that night and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t make it to the optional morning skate, much to the surprise of everyone.

The rest of the season flew by as the team soared through the playoffs. Nate kept thinking about ways to ask Charlotte for her number but just couldn’t stop overthinking it and psyching himself out; eventually deciding to table the topic until after the season was over to focus on the Cup. But he reveled in every intermission or postgame interview where they got to talk, or the little conversations they would get to have in the arena or on the plane. Occasionally, he’d even slip in a hug, taking in her perfume, under the guise of celebration.

The gossip had now spread through the group — not surprising since EJ has never once kept a secret — and had been an ongoing chirp for Nate. It didn’t help that at the two galas since, Nate was the first one there excitedly scanning the room, but Charlotte wasn’t at either. He’d learn she was covering the Nuggets or the Rapids those nights and would then leave as early as possible.

It got even harder to not think about her as he neared the end of the season, where every phone call with his mom would eventually turn to his cousin’s wedding in the summer and whether he was going to bring a date. Family weddings were the one time he felt he couldn’t leave early, forcing himself to endure the suffering that was being single in your late twenties and watching people be in love. Not to mention all the comments and questions: wanting gossip, wanting a date, feeling sorry for him.

*          *          *

Charlotte was happy with the casual platonic friendship that she had found with Nate. She always looked forward to talking with him at games because he was always more relaxed with her than the other boys, even occasionally giving her a sweaty hug after a good, exciting win. Her co-workers had made some comments about how unusual it was, but she just chalked it up to them knowing each other better now.

The job kept her busy, busier than anticipated. And it felt like the year had flown by before she found herself at the celebration gala for the newly crowned Stanley Cup Champions. The atmosphere was different from the last event she had been to. That one was for schmoozing. This was only for celebrating. The energy in the room was intoxicating and she had a big smile plastered to her face as soon as she walked in.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd and congratulated everyone she saw and recognized. Eventually, she stumbled into Gabe.

“Congratulations, Gabe!” you yelled.

“Lotteee! Thank you!” he yelled back, pulling her in for a tight hug before spinning her around. He was so drunk, but he did look unbelievably happy. When he finally put her down, he grabbed her by the arm and very dramatically whispered in her ear while pointing, “Nate’s that way.”

She looked at him confused and surprised, but he didn’t let her say anything before not so gently pushing her towards Nate. And she didn’t protest, because when she finally saw him, she felt her heart speed up again. He looked jubilant, swaying slightly with EJ, face pink and hair messy. She had learned over the last month or so that she really liked the way he looked with the playoff beard.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to disturb whatever EJ and Nate were doing, but once EJ saw her, he let out a screech so loud she had no choice but to turn toward them. “Charlotte! Lotte! Lott Ness Monster! Come here!” But once you got here, he immediately left, vanishing to leave her standing in front of the very flushed Nathan Mackinnon.

“Hi Nathan, congratulations! Well deserved. It’s been an absolute privilege watching you this season,” she said, unsure what to do as her heart kept racing faster at the way drunk Nate was looking at her.

“Oh, stop with that professional speech and give me a hug,” he slurred, pulling her in tightly.

She chuckled and let herself enjoy the warmth and the firm contours of his body against her before forcing herself to pull away. He only let her get so far, leaving one arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at an event like this,” she said softly.

“Well, I had to! You weren’t at the last two of these, so I had to find a way to entertain myself with EJ,” he said, pouting. She had certainly never seen him pout, but she was even more surprised that he noticed and cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I had work. Sorry.”

“I know. Who even cares about the Nuggets.” he mumbled under his breath before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “GO AVS!” that was followed by a loud round of cheers. After a few seconds, he piped up excited again, “Are you enjoying yourself today?”

“Um… I think so! It’s nice to see everyone so happy and energetic.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling until she caught Gabe and EJ staring and pointing at them. Before she had the chance to ask Nate what that was about, he was pulling her towards Mikko on the other side of the room.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, laughs, and the warm firm feeling of Nate’s arm around her shoulders. With each passing drink, she found herself leaning into it more. She was sure her face was so red that it rivaled JT’s hair. But if the boys noticed, which they were too drunk to notice, they didn’t mention it. And even if they did, she doesn’t remember.

*          *          *

The next morning Nate woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He had collapsed on top of all his sheets fully naked, and so he also woke up with a slight feeling of shame and dread at what he might have done the night before. When he finally reached over to check his phone, it was blowing up with messages.

gabe the babe (INCOMING): dude did nate finally hook up with the lott ness monster

JT (INCOMING): omg nate, you have to tell us if you did

mooseman (INCOMING): he definitely did, did you not see how he literally didn’t stop touching her the whole night

Nate buried his head in his sheets and groaned, trying to rack his brain for memories of himself being an idiot around Charlotte last night. But he was drawing a blank. After minutes, he finally lifted his head again and opened a private text to EJ.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): ej, please tell me you remember if I did something stupid last night

EJ (INCOMING): yeah. you did.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): FUCK what did I do

EJ (INCOMING): you didn’t take lotte home with you you fucking idiot

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): what

EJ (INCOMING): you just fucking disappeared in an uber without even saying goodbye. and EYE had to make sure she got home okay

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): oh, well it could’ve been worse

EJ (INCOMING): HOW

EJ (INCOMING): HOW COULD IT HAVE BEEN WORSE

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): idk if I did something stupid or said something bad

EJ (INCOMING): dude, you have got to ask her out, you two clearly like each other

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): i have no idea what you’re talking about. we're just friends. we just work together. like you and me

EJ (INCOMING): YEAH RIGHT DOGG if you were touching me all night like that, we would be having a very different conversation ;)

EJ (INCOMING): please tell me you at least have her number now

Nate paused and thought back to the night before, but it was such a blur he didn’t know. But when he looked in his contacts, her number wasn’t there.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): nope

EJ (INCOMING): you are so fucking hopeless. i hope you find a pair at home this summer so you will finally do something about this crush

EJ (INCOMING): or maybe when we come back in the fall, she won’t be so single anymore and it won’t matter

Nate felt his stomach turn and he groaned. The hangover finally hit him but he was typing a sarcastic response when another message interrupted his thought.

Sarah (INCOMING): congrats again bro! are you bringing someone to the wedding?

Nate (OUTGOING): wow, really cutting to the chase this morning.

Nate (OUTGOING): and no.

Sarah (INCOMING): what you’re telling me a stanley cup winner can’t find a date

Nate groaned again and muffled a scream in his pillow. He knew that his sister and mom would not drop this subject from the moment he got home. He knew that they would probably try to set him on dates, or worse introduce him to every single woman at the wedding. He lay there, head on his pillow, for a long time, until finally, he had an absolutely insane idea. An idea that can only come to someone after the happiest day of their life followed by the biggest hangover of their life.

Nate (OUTGOING): fine, I’ll bring someone

Sarah (INCOMING): OH MY GOD WHAT WHO

Sarah (INCOMING): NATHAN RAYMOND MACKINNON IF YOU’VE BEEN DATING SOMEONE THIS WHOLE TIME AND HIDING IT FROM ME, I’LL KILL YOU. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE WON.

Nate (OUTGOING): nope, not telling

Sarah (INCOMING): you are a child and i hate you

Nate (OUTGOING): I love you. See you soon.

Sarah (INCOMING): URGH

Sarah (INCOMING): Love you too. I’m calling mom.

*          *          *

Charlotte woke up with a splitting headache and the room spinning at 6 am. And despite how horribly she felt, she couldn’t get back to sleep. She could still feel Nate’s arm on her shoulder, and his lips against her ear as he whispered something unintelligible, and the scent of his cologne lingering on her hair would waft into her memory every few seconds making her heart skip. She was absolutely certain that he was more drunk than she was, and that he was a touchy drunk. She felt even a little guilty for taking advantage of his touchiness, getting as much as she could last night.

After a few hours of being unable to get back to sleep, she peeled herself up and drew herself a bath with a cup of tea. She still wasn’t able to stomach food yet, but she felt her body relaxing in the warm water, finally letting Nate slip from her mind. Eventually, she got up and padded around the house thinking about the long summer ahead. It was her first summer with not a lot of work to do, and since it was her first year in Denver, she also didn’t really know many people or have any concrete plans.

She had just sat down at her computer to research ideas when she heard a buzz on her apartment intercom. She looked down at her phone confused, but there were no texts there from the few friends she had made so far.

“Hello?” she stutters cautiously into the intercom.

“Oh my god, thank fuck,” a familiar voice rang back, “it’s you. I’ve been buzzing every apartment and I swear your neighbors think I’m a crazy person.”

“What?”

“Um. Oh. Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Nate.”

She was stunned silent. Stunned and confused.

“Um… Nathan Mackinnon…” He filled the silence nervously, “You know… From the Avalanche.”

That snapped her out of her trance as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my god Nathan, I know who you are. Sorry. I was just confused. How do you know where I live?”

“Um, well when we first met, I dropped you off here. So, I made the gamble that you still lived here and just buzzed every apartment to see.”

“Oh. Wow,” she says, stunned, confused and flattered, “Um, is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He paused. “You know, I just realized how dumb this was. I’m really sorry to disturb you—”

“No!” she says louder than she intended, “No, Nathan, wait. Let me buzz you up.”

“Oh, okay, yeah! Thanks!”

She paced around her entryway, thoughts racing. The door knocks still startled her, and as she walked over, she looked down at her sweatpants and realized there definitely was no time to change and prayed she looked okay.

“Hi, Nathan,” she smiled, opening the door, “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” he hesitates and makes a gesture to hug her before chickening out, pulling away and stepping past her.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today?”

“Your apartment is cute.”

“Thanks. It’s not NHL superstar level, but it’s pretty good to me.”

He chuckles and leans a hip on the kitchen island, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly trained on the ground. She wasn’t really sure what to say, so she moved behind him to start making them both some tea. He studies her as she moves around and wonders how it’s possible she looks so good in your sweatpants and messy bun when he feels like his entire guts might just drop out of his body.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Um, so I realized I didn’t have your number.”

This made her laugh, a proper belly laugh. “What,” she manages to get out, “you came all the way here because you don’t have my number.”

“Well…” he hesitates, “Yeah. I mean, I never asked for it I guess.”

“Okay, do you want it now?” she was still laughing.

“Um, yes?” He was shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck with his hand, leaning awkwardly on the countertop.

“Okay,” she reached a hand out.

He looks at her confused and gives it a slap.

“That was for your phone, silly. Not for a five,” she was laughing even harder now. And his cheeks turned bright red as he handed her his phone, not meeting her eyes. She passes the phone back to him along with a cup of tea, “There you go. So… What was the huge rush? You could’ve emailed me or something for it.”

He paused and laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. I guess my brain doesn’t work very well when I’m hungover.”

Charlotte took a seat next to him on the kitchen island as they sipped their teas.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not why I came over. I mean it, but it isn’t the main reason.”

“Okay?” she encouraged.

“I had a really stupid idea and it was stupid at the time, but now I’m here it’s even dumber. So, I’ll just settle for the number.”

“Okay, Nathan, you can’t just say something that cryptic and not tell me.”

His face went bright red again and he shuffled in place. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to interrupt my hangover recovery and not tell me why.”

He sighed and looked away. After a while, he mumbled under his breath very quickly, “Fine. Icameheretoaskyouifyou’dcometomycousin’swedding.”

“What?” she said, not sure if she misinterpreted the mumbles or if she was dreaming.

“Um… Well, my cousin, back in Nova Scotia, is getting married in a few weeks. And my mom and sister keep bothering me to bring someone. And I just had this stupid idea. Because you’re the only person I’ve had fun with at those big events. So, this morning, in my post-Stanley Cup alcohol delirium I thought Hey, I should ask Charlotte if she wants to help me survive a social event and get my parents off my ass about not having a date? So here I am. But obviously, that was insane. So don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte looked at him, mouth open, in shock for longer than acceptable, and felt her own cheeks redden. A little lightheaded, before she could really stop to think, she responded, “Sure! I mean why not? What’s the harm in me going? I don’t have any plans.”

His head snapped up to meet her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and Charlotte is captivated by the way his sharp blues light up in response. It was when she saw the smile take over his face and her heart sped up that she knew this was probably a huge mistake. But a mistake she didn’t want to take back.

*          *          *

“So, how long have you two cuties been dating?” the fifth person in a row asked. Charlotte wasn’t sure if this was an aunt or a family friend, but she forced the smile back on her face as she responded.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We work together, kind of.”

The lady looked between the two of them, and Charlotte could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle again as she was acutely aware of Nate’s hand resting on her lower back.

“She’s here as my date, yes, but we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends,” he replies gently but firmly, the same way he had been doing all weekend, before changing the subject.

But she was lost in thought. She had been here for a few days, and she had to admit that Nova Scotia was beautiful, and Nate’s family and friends were wonderful. Despite not knowing Nate super well, she had never felt out of place. He had always made sure she was included in conversations, explaining anything that felt like an inside joke. She thought back to all the times she had met a boyfriend’s family — there hadn’t been that many, but enough to know that this was far better than any of them did.

Nate had been awkward and hesitant at first, jumping away every time he touched her by accident on the plane ride over and flinching when their knuckles brushed when he went to help her grab her luggage. But he slowly allowed himself to loosen up a little, reading her lack of discomfort as a good sign. He always prided himself on acting like a gentleman; even though women complained that he was stiff and unromantic, he tried. He found himself putting in an extra effort to hold open the door for her, to pull out a chair for her, to offer an elbow as she walked on the uneven pavement.

If Nate was in his head about every move he made, Charlotte was ten times more in her head. They had only really spent time together at work and work functions. And she wasn’t sure if that’s why something felt different here, more intimate, or if she was just imagining it. She was starting to feel like he was going out of his way to touch her; laying a hand on her knee when they were sitting next to each other, tapping her elbow to show her something, keeping a hand on her back when they were standing.

She had tried her hardest not to lean into his touch every time, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his large hand on her back felt—god, was his hand always this large. It was never too low as to be intrusive; just resting chastely on her mid back to remind her that he was there and was ready to take a break from the socializing at any point.

Whether she was imagining it or not, it was starting to drive her insane. Her skin constantly felt buzzing and hot, tingling in the places he touched, electrified in the places closest to him that craved his touch.

Nate’s low voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she responded as she felt her neck and ear flush with the brush of his lips on her ear.

“Oh, I was just asking if you want to go for a walk,” he murmured, “you’re looking a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, her voice coming out a little shaky with how close his tall frame was to her.

And so, she reached out and took his extended elbow as they slipped out of the rehearsal dinner and wandered down to the waterfront in silence.

“I can totally see why you love it here,” she finally said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“It’s beautiful. The water. With the lights reflecting. And all the beautiful trees. And the fresh air. I can understand why you love coming here in the summer.”

“Yeah, it’s truly something,” he looked over at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were warm and soft. It looked like he wanted to say something for a second before he shook his head and looked away. “I’m glad you came with me. You make these big events bearable.”

“Just bearable, Nathan?” she laughed, trying to break the tension in the air she couldn’t really explain. And his chuckles were quick to join hers in the warm summer air.

And just like that, they fell into a comfortable rhythm again, laughing and chatting. Eventually, he walked her back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms.

“Well, here you go, m’lady,” he joked, letting his arm fall from her for the first time in a while. He began to turn towards his room but hesitated for a second before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. She let herself melt into the hug, embracing the warm buzzing feeling in her chest as she felt his larger frame engulf her. He didn’t let go when she thought he was going to, instead whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what, Nathan?”

“For coming with me. For being so good with my family, even though they keep asking intrusive questions. For just being you,” he said, pulling back. They were standing so close together that she could see every shade of blue in his eyes as they looked at her intently. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before the smallest sharp intake of breath he tried to hide as he untangled from her. She could feel her body ache a little as her cheeks burned.

She didn’t know if it was the glasses of wine or the dizzying tension, but before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, Nathan,” she murmured, “good night.” She smiled as she turned away and opened her hotel room door as quickly as possible.

She didn’t dare to take a peek back at him, but if she had, she would have seen his eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in shock. Instead, she quickly ducked into the room, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against the cold wood, and closing her eyes. What the fuck am I doing, she said to herself, Nate is a sweet guy, who I work with. I’m just doing him a favor. And he clearly thinks I’m just a good friend, as he keeps saying to everyone. Get it together.

She walked away and started getting ready for bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as her mind raced through the moments of the day, all the little touches and glances and the sparkle in Nate’s blue eyes.

 *         *          *

The following day was the wedding, and the morning passed comfortably despite neither of them acknowledging the moment they both wanted to talk about so badly. Soon, she found herself sitting beside him in the church, watching the beautiful bride stand next to her adoring groom.

While the ceremony went on, Nate was having a hard time staying out of his thoughts as the celebrant talked about love and marriage and as the happy couple exchanged adoring words with each other. It was not that he hated weddings, not at all; in fact, he loved them. He loved the celebration and the emotion. But as the years went on, it became a stunning reminder of what he did not have. With every wedding and every failed relationship in between, he felt more alone, like maybe something was wrong with him.

Charlotte noticed that Nate seemed emotional, lost in his thoughts. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she could sense that he was troubled. At some point during the ceremony, when Nate found himself particularly emotional, he had reached his hand over and grasped hers. She had to try hard to hold back the small gasp that threatened to escape her lips. But seeing his troubled expression, she squeezed his hand. And, inexplicably to her, his hand never left hers, not during the rest of the ceremony, or the walk over to the cocktail hour space. He only reluctantly let go to help her to her seat once they got to the reception.

Although they both enjoyed the reception food, they had both been so deep in their own thoughts that their conversation with the table was stilted and almost awkward. Eventually, as the night wore on, and the gentle fuzz of liquor started to take over, they both started to relax. Nate, after starting and stopping for almost 15 minutes, finally asked her to dance; his heart rate racing as she excitedly nodded yes.

Which is how they found themselves on the dancefloor for over an hour. At first, it was awkward. They were standing a foot apart, dancing independently; she, laughing at Nate’s horrible dance moves, and Nate, feeling electrified by the way her body moved. Eventually, they got closer and closer together until they were swaying in each other’s arms to some horrible Mariah Carey song, making snide remarks in each other’s ears and not caring how obnoxiously loud they were laughing at the jokes.

A few drinks later, their inhibitions were lowered enough that she found herself with her back against him. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned into his warm, towering figure. Both of them were no longer sure if they were intoxicated by each other or the drinks, but they did not really care. After they were grinding to a Doja Cat song, she swore she felt something press against her back, but she was not sure as Nate swiftly excused himself to use the bathroom.

And that’s how she found herself at the bar by herself.

“Nate really likes you, you know?” she heard a voice say beside her. When she looked over, she saw his mom giving her a knowing glance.

“Oh, Mrs. Mackinnon, we’re just friends,” Charlotte managed to choke out, despite feeling her throat tighten.

“I know, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more there,” she smiled, laying a soft hand on her forearm. She had never felt herself sober up faster.

“I appreciate that, but we do work together,” she strained.

“Please, call me Kathy,” she continued, not acknowledging Charlotte’s weak protest. And when she did not respond, Kathy added, “You know, I’ve met a number of his girlfriends, and he had never looked at them the way he looks at you. Or even treated them the same way. He’s barely left your side since you got here.”

“Kathy, I’m sure that’s not true. You have raised an amazing son. I’m sure he is just as kind to anyone.” She could feel her cheeks feel heat as she started scanning the room, desperate for Nate’s return.

“Sweetheart,” Kathy spoke softly, “I have been married for many years. There is only one reason a person looks at someone the way he looks at you, and that’s love. If you feel the same way, you should tell him. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.”

She smiled as her husband came to stand next to her; and before Charlotte could protest again, she gave her a gentle hug before walking away, leaving her standing there with her head spinning at her words.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the bar and downed her drink in one go once the bartender handed it to her, earning an eyebrow raise. She jumped and let out a little squeak when she felt a warm hand press into her back.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Nate joked before he met her eyes and his brows furrowed, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she croaked out stiffly.

“Are you sure?” he stepped in closer which only made her stiffen more, “You seem… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?” she tried to say calmly, although it came out an octave too high, “What makes you say that? Nope. I’m fine.”

He furrowed his brow more and leaned back, confused, before removing his hand from her back and stuffing them in his pockets. There was a twinge of sadness in his eye as he looked around, unsure what to do. “Okay, then. Do you want to go back on the dance floor? Or I guess not. We could sit back at our table?”

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, finding a normal tone again, “Table sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just watching the other guests dancing, both deep in thought. She was stuck thinking about what Nate’s mom had said. If she thought about it, she could totally understand why an outside observer would see their relationship as something more than friends. But if Nate had feelings for her, why did he so insistently refer to her as his “good friend”? And even if he did like her, she wasn’t sure about the implications for her job. Was she going to get fired? Probably not, if she was upfront with HR. But she was new to the city and relatively new to the field. What if people started to see her as the girl who ‘goes for the stars’ or the girl who’s ‘just here to get in some rich athlete’s pants’. She had worked too hard not to be taken seriously now. And maybe if things worked out, it would eventually blow over. But if it didn’t work out… If it didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she felt it would be bad.

Meanwhile, Nate was panicking; combing through every moment of the evening, trying to find where things went wrong. He was finally feeling like he had an idea of how she felt. Like maybe if he told her his feelings, she would reciprocate. Did he go too far with the dancing? Was Drunk Nate too caught up in the moment and did something inappropriate and unwanted? Nate was never much of a verbal processor — he preferred to stew on things first, —  and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol lingering in his system but he felt the words trying to bubble up in his chest. He didn’t even know what the words would be; maybe words to explain how he felt about her, to make sure he didn’t do something wrong, to make sure she was okay.

When she finally felt the grip on her chest loosen and the thoughts begin to slow a little, she snuck a quick glance at Nate. His jaw was set firm, and brows furrowed. He was staring into the crowd on the dancefloor, but he was clearly not watching them. He looked tense, and she could see the panic she felt reflected on his face. She found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze; a move that clearly surprised him as he jumped a little before smiling and relaxing into it.

“Nate, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’m thinking of heading back to the room. Did you want to stay longer?” she said gently.

He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile, although the worry hadn’t left the contours of his face yet, “No, I’m actually ready to head back too. Come on.” He pulled her onto her feet.

They took the ten-minute walk back to the hotel in relative silence, tethered together by their interlocked hands. Nate spent the whole walk back planning his speech; he was going to tell her how he felt because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Holding hands with her just felt so right. But for her, despite how nice it felt, it caused an overwhelming sense of panic to rush back through her. It was nice. It was too nice. It was going to ruin everything.

Stepping out of the elevator, the words escaped her lips before she had the chance to hold them back. “Nate, I think this was a mistake,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He froze beside her and managed to choke out a “What?”

“Nate,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and backing towards her door, “This is giving me a taste of what I can’t have. And this friendship… I don’t think I can do this.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, still stuck in the spot where she left him, his voice louder than he had intended.

“The touching, the holding hands, the being sweet… It’s too much,” she said, unlocking the door, not meeting his eyes.

“What—” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. Her mind didn’t process that the pain she felt was echoed in his voice.

She sighed, stepping into the doorway, “I can’t do this, Nate. Because if we keep doing this, I’m going to fall in love with you. And I can’t do that while being your ‘good friend from work’. So, I’m going to bed. Good night.” She finally met his eye as she stepped back to shut the door, barely registering the way his face flickered from hurt to confusion to shock to hope.

Charlotte rested her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. She could feel the tears form and slide down her face. She tried to convince herself that it was the right move, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the sound of Nate’s mother’s voice saying ‘Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.’ What if Kathy was right? What if protecting herself from pain was causing more pain itself? What if it would work out? As she stood there, she listened for movement on the other side of the door, but she heard none. Was that hope she saw in his face there? If it was, what did it mean?

Before she could finish the thought, she heard shuffles and a rapid knock on the door that startled her. She didn’t know why, but she opened it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did something earlier that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I'm crossing a boundary now but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say this," he said, looking at her with concern. When she nodded, he continued speaking.

He confessed to her that he had never been this person before, love-struck and irrational. He had always been calm, detached, and calculated, but with her, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help being rash, like inviting her to the wedding or reaching out to touch her and be close to her.

She had told him that she couldn't do this because she was scared of falling in love with him, but he revealed that he might already be in love with her. He had been saying that she was just a friend and a colleague because he was scared, but he had never felt this way before and was afraid he would mess it up.

During the wedding ceremony, he looked around at everyone and realized that he had won the Stanley Cup this year, but he still felt off. He kept thinking about her - how her laughter made him want to make her laugh again, how her smile warmed his chest, and how he could still feel the tingle where their skin had touched even after she left.

He admitted that he had never been sure if he had truly been in love before, and maybe this was it. He thought they owed it to themselves to find out because he believed she might feel the same way. He knew it might not be the most rational decision, but it was everything he had to say.

Feeling a shaky breath escape her lips, she heard the voice in her mind, "Don't stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short." For the first time on this trip, she felt her mind still and smiled as she closed the distance between them. With her chest pressed to him, she looked up at him, admiring his soft and nervous blue eyes. She reached up to cup his neck and met him in a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and soft at first, as she chastely felt their bodies slot together; his hands finding her waist, and hers fisting his suit jacket to bring him closer. After not long, she felt Nate run his tongue along her lip and she allowed herself to deepen the kiss, conveying the emotion that was hard to put into words. The feeling of his firm hands against her waist and his muscular body against hers again made her feel as though she were on fire. And she had to admit, she liked this quite a lot. Eventually, they disconnected and rested their foreheads together as they took in the moment.

“So, are you going to say something?” Nate whispered.

 “Yeah, uh, ditto,” she whispered back, giggling slightly.

“That’s it?!” he leaned back in mock horror, “After I poured my heart out, that’s all you have to say?” She could see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I think for the first time in your life, you have spoken enough words for both of us, Nathan,” she laughed as she gave his chin a little pinch, drawing a laugh from him as well. She leaned back in to place another firm kiss on his lips before saying, “I like you a lot too. Like a lot a lot. It scares me. But, as the kids say, you only live once, and I need to stop being scared and just see where this goes because I think I might be in love with you, Nathan, and I need to find out if I am.”

He smiled broadly; it’s the smile she loves, the one where his nose scrunches a little and she can see the genuine happiness on his face. And as their lips rejoined, she slowly started to pull him back into her hotel room.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he says, disconnecting their lips briefly.

“Uh, right now? Sure, I guess,” she raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you always call me Nathan? Everyone always calls me Nate.” The question catches her off-guard and she laughed as she continued dragging him into your room.

“I was trying to remind myself to stay professional and not fall for you,” she laughed as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Right…That worked so well, I’ll have to remember that one for the future, Miss Charlotte,” he laughed back before kissing her again so deeply and passionately that she forgot whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

#Nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #Nathan mackinnon imagine #Colorado Avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #avs #Nathan mackinnon fic #Colorado Avalanche fic #avs imagine #avs fic #hockey imagines #rox writes

[horsesandhockeyplayers]

When Life Gives You Lemons- Part 14

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD  etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail.  These warnings are  relevant to the whole fic, not just particular  chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 4500

Word Count Total: 62,779

Author’s Note:  Huge shoutout to @newlibrary​ for the graphics and @hockeylvr59​ for the editing reads.

Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Reminder, that this fic  starts during the summer of 2019. I   will be tagging the Avs and  Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV   change. Flipping between Mark  and Clementine. This part begins with  Clementine. THERE BE SMUT.

Part Fourteen*

My stomach swooped like I was on a roller coaster, and I knew I’d forever remember this moment as the one when I fell in love with Mark Barberio, or at least one of them. There seemed to be many moments when I fell a little more in love with him.

I kissed the underside of his chin as I murmured, “You’re so full of it.”

He wrapped me up in his arms again, hugged me to his chest and shifted his hips as he replied, “I’m full of something, and I’m gonna have to go take care of it in a minute.”

Bracing a hand on his chest, I sat up. How he could toe the line between being romantic one minute and entirely asinine the next I might never know, but, much to my great dismay, it was incredibly endearing and I felt my heart squeeze in my chest. My hair fell in a curtain around me as I scooted back onto his thighs and I tilted my chin in the direction of his crotch as I whispered, “Can I?”

His grin was impossibly wide as he chuckled and informed me, “Lemon, for the record you never have to ask a dude if you can touch his junk.”

I hid behind my hair, faltering as I offered, “Ok, I just…”

I trailed off, because how to do you tell someone you’re about to be intimate with that indescribable trauma happened to you and you don’t actually KNOW what to do with a dick since you’ve never had a healthy sexual relationship before? I wasn’t exactly sure, hence why I grew quiet.

Mark settled his hands behind his head— which just accentuated his arms and chest, and I realized that it was really unfair that there are men who looked like this in real life and not just on romance novel covers and I was still halfway shocked that I was curled up on the couch with one of said men— as he responded evenly, “Lemon, just do what you want. It’s ok, I promise.  If I don’t like something I’ll tell you.”

“But I don’t want to do something you don’t like,” I bit my lip after answering. Perfection wasn’t a suggestion with Bill and I hated that I kept comparing them together because Mark was kind and wonderful and Bill was a shitstain on humanity. 

“Babe,” he countered, “I do shit you don’t like all the time. But I stop and let you adjust or call me an idiot or we talk about it. That’s how you ended up on top, remember?”

I nodded and scooted back a little farther down his thighs, trying to sit on my heels instead of his knees. He had tucked his erection under the waistband of his underwear and jeans, leaving the head of his cock sticking out; without thinking, I reached out and, with the tip of my finger, smeared around the precum that had gathered there

His breath hitched, and I heard him hiss through his teeth. He unclenched his hands from behind his head, moving them to grip the arm of the couch instead. I bit my lip, palming him through his jeans and then tentatively, unbuttoned his fly. As I slid his zipper down, I took a moment to appreciate how he was straining against his boxer briefs.

I dipped my hand under the waistband of his shorts and when I wrapped my hand around the base of his dick, his hips jerked and he swallowed a moan. The way his body responded to me made me feel a little dizzy with power; the novelty that I caused him to react that way and that I was calling the shots here was almost too much to bear, but I knew one thing for sure: it was incredibly hot and I kind of loved it. With my free hand, I shoved his underwear down and freed him completely, letting my fingertips trail up his length. His dick jumped into my hand and I enjoyed feeling him, enjoyed the velvety feel of his skin over the hardness of his erection. When I risked a glance up at him, he had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes were intense, and laser focused on me. “Is this ok?” He nodded vigorously.

I watched him react as I stroked him, never having the opportunity to explore someone so thoroughly. Precum was dripping onto his stomach and I swiped it up with my finger and licked it off, rolling the bitter taste over my tongue. Mark’s breath hitched again and his dick twitched in my hand.

This time when he exhaled, there was a distinctive “fuck,” muttered under his breath.  Watching him straining, gripping the arm of the couch so hard I thought there would be permanent divots in the leather, I realized he was doing his best to give this completely unpressured experience to me, and as hot as this moment was already, the fact that he could be so unselfish in it, despite everything, only endeared him to me more. 

I rubbed my thumb over the head of his cock, and I saw the muscles in his jaw clench as I spread around some more of the precum that was leaking out.

“Lemon,” he choked out, “Spit in your hand.”

“What?” I asked. His words broke my trance, and even though I understood what he was saying, it took a moment for me to process the suggestion.

“Spit. In. Your. Hand,” he panted.

I did my best to gather enough saliva in my mouth before I did what he asked. The lubrication changed the texture of his skin, and he went from velvet to silk. I loved the feel of him against my hand, the easy slide of him across my palm almost hypnotic. As I stroked him, I felt him get impossibly harder.

He was trying to control the movement of his hips, but they kept jumping up underneath me, shoving the length of him through my fist completely. 

He wasn’t completely shaven, but he was trimmed and I moved my other hand to palm his scrotum, rolling his testicles in my hand. I heard him curse softly as I teased them, felt them tighten as jet of cum landed on his stomach and he groaned, “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

I had indeed stopped what I was doing to watch the cum jet out of him, but with his encouragement, I started again, stroking him through each spurt and firmly holding his balls in my other hand. 

FInally, he was done and he reached down and grabbed my wrists in his hands as he conceded, “Okay, now you can stop. Too much.”

He flopped back, sinking into the couch as he let my wrists go and with his eyes closed he rasped, “Holy shit, Lemon, that was… hot.”

It was hot and now that I wasn’t transfixed by his genitals, I was able to sit back on my heels and just look at him: his hair was disheveled from my fingers carding through it and the cross on the silver chain was resting against his chest, carving a shimmering path through all of the muscles there. I took that moment to appreciate that there were so many muscles. Even if I worked out just as much as he did, I still probably wouldn’t have half the amount of muscles— which I personally thought was unfair.

HIs abs were splattered with his cum and I gave in to the urge to reach down and trail my index finger through the milky fluid, pushing it through the valley of his abdominals. When I risked a glance at his face, he had one eye open and he was watching me carefully, his rakish eyebrow raised. “You’ve never gotten the opportunity to just enjoy someone’s body, have you?” he asked. 

Shaking my head, I impulsively licked the cum off my finger.

He grabbed his shirt off the floor and wiped his stomach off before he sat up. When we were facing each other again, his hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me down for a kiss, his tongue invading my mouth almost like he was trying to lick his own cum out of it.

When he finally pulled away, I had to touch my lips to make sure they were still there. “Come on, Lemon,” he prompted, picking me up and setting me on my feet next to the couch. He made it seem so easy, even though I knew there was no way it was. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, trying to hold his jeans up with his free hand. He ended up kicking them off in the hallway.

Once we were through the door, he pulled me forward and spun me around like we were dancing, his bed hitting the back of my knees and I fell backward onto it. I had been dreading this moment and I shut my eyes, bracing for the moment of panic I knew I would feel when he fell on top of me.

When his weight didn’t hit me right away, I opened an eye to catch him falling to his knees. He had disposed of his boxer briefs and tossed them with his shirt into a pile and I realized he had gotten fucking naked and I had missed the show.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I asked, “Barbs? What are you doing?”

He reached up to hook his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and stripped them off with my underwear in one smooth pull, throwing them in the same pile as his clothes. “I should think that is obvious,” he whispered into the skin of my thigh.

“It’s… not?”

He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret and grabbed me gently, dragging my body toward him until I was almost hanging off the bed. He arched a brow, like that was supposed to give me a clue and I shrugged, clueless. I was still unsure as to what was happening, but I wasn’t uneasy about it, which was a miracle in and of itself. 

He walked closer to me on his knees as he instructed, “Arms up.”

I lifted my arms, more as a reflex than anything, and when I settled back on my elbows, I was naked. It was the first time I had been naked with a man since my marriage, and I fought the urge to cover myself. Mark sat back on his heels for a moment and I could feel his gaze traveling up and down my body. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that I barely heard him murmur, “You are breathtaking.”

I looked down, half concerned that my body had been replaced by body snatchers. But, all I saw was the same old body I saw every day: one with a faint map of stretch marks from gaining weight too fast; battle scars, that were both literal and figurative, from fighting my marriage and myself; a smattering of cellulite, weird tan lines and broken capillaries; and assorted other imperfections that seemed to be emphasized in this moment of vulnerability. Before I could voice any of this, Mark slid his hands from my ankles to my knees and twisted them to skirt along the inside of my thighs. He ran them upwards until his thumbs found the crease along my vaginal lips, which proved to be sufficiently distracting and quieted the self-doubt racing through my brain.

When he pulled my folds apart and blew on my clit, I fell back onto the bed, a whimpered “fuck,” escaping my throat. I felt the smile on his lips as he pressed them to me and licked the length of my pussy.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to watch him or just lay back and enjoy the sensations. He explored me with his tongue, his fingers spreading me apart as he licked around my pussy. When he closed his lips over my clit and sucked, my hips arched into his face, and when he slid a thick finger into me, I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

My orgasm hit me like a tsunami; the sensation started to rise, and suddenly I was drowning, my hips bucking wildly into his face. I swear Mark growled when he locked his free arm over my pelvis to hold me in place as he sucked my clit and finger fucked me through my orgasm. As I was coming down, he slid a second finger in with the first and the stretch caused a mini orgasm on the heels of the first. With a flat-tongued lick, he detached from my “pleasure nub,” and I suddenly understood why terrible romance novelists called it such.

He continued to slide his fingers in and out of me, leaving trails of wet opened mouth kisses along my thighs until I relaxed completely, the occasional tremor shaking my body. 

When he slipped his fingers out of me, he sucked them into his mouth to clean them off before crawling over me and resting against the pillows; once situated, he hauled me up his body and arranged me half on top of him, his dick resting along my thigh.

With our naked bodies like this, it painted a stark picture of how different we were. HIs body was thick and toned. I don’t think he had one tiny cell of fat on him and his skin was a dark olive after having been in the sun all summer. I, on the other hand, looked like poorly proven sourdough bread that Paul Hollywood would have been ashamed of… with blue hair.

I felt Mark take a breath below my ear as he whispered in it, “Was that ok? I don’t want to brag, but I have been told I’m pretty good at that.”

I stretched my jaw a bit, willing the muscles to work since all of them felt like they had the integrity of wet cardboard. “I don’t have anything to compare it to,” I ventured, “So you could be the absolute worst in the world, but if that’s the worst, then the best might kill me.”

He went completely still beneath me as he processed my response, taking a moment before he responded, “What do you mean you don’t have anything to compare it to?”

I set my chin on his chest and looked up at him as I clarified, “I’ve never experienced that before?”

He looked a little shocked, and rubbed the hand that wasn’t cradling my ass down his beard as he thought that over. “Never tell Landy this,” he murmured, “but I’m actually at a loss for words.”

I shrugged. “Honestly,” I admitted, “If getting that as my first time meant I didn’t get it other times, I think I’m ok with that.” Mark smiled down at me and I returned the smile before I schooled my face into a more stern expression and continued, “Also, please don’t even mention Landy again while we’re naked, in bed together, or naked in bed together. ”

Mark’s face softened and he kissed the top of my head, chuckling lightly and he concluded, “Well, Lemon, I was glad to give it to you.”

His cock was still hard against my hip, and I ran a finger up the length of him as I began, “You’re still..”

“Mmmhmm.” I felt his chest rumble as he responded.

I looked at him inquisitively, “can I?”

He just looked amused as he answered, “Babe, if it involves you and my dick, I’m going to have very few restrictions.”

I bit my lip and straddled his thighs again, mimicking our position on the couch earlier.

“Do you have… you know?” I hoped he would know.

Mark’s face was caught up in a grin as he answered the question I couldn’t finish, nodding as he informed me, “your inability to finish sentences when referring to anything about sex is adorable.” His long arm reached up and he somehow dug a condom out of the drawer of his nightstand and tossed it near my knee. “Knock yourself out, babe.”

Suddenly faced with a hard dick, a man with his hands folded behind his head, and a condom, I didn’t know what to do or where to start. I looked up at him for guidance and he just shook his head as he told me, “This is your show, Lemon. No judgment.”

I bit my lip and traced the outline of his testicles in his scrotum, fascinated when the skin drew up tight in response to the stimulation. Mark sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t react otherwise. I was nervous all of a sudden and the moment felt charged, in a different way than it had earlier; some of the urgency was gone, and we had all the time in the world, which meant there was plenty of time for me to prove I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and make a fool of myself. I didn’t want to throw all of that at him right now so I just said simply, “You have to tell me what you like.”

“Clementine, you are naked, on top of me, playing with my junk… I like all of this.” He made no effort to hide his amusement. 

I wrapped my hand around his balls and rolled them between my fingers, causing another sharp inhale from Mark and and an exhaled “fuck.”

His dick twitched against his stomach, the tip leaking clear fluid onto his skin. Letting go of him, I scooped it up with a finger and sucked it off. 

His big body squirmed beneath me as he groaned, “Fuck, you are killing me, do you know that?”

Comments like that filled me with confidence and made it easy for me to toss aside all of my hesitation and it occurred to me I should thank him for that later. Feeling reinvigorated and embracing my newly-found inclination for power, I teased him, “You taste good. I didn’t know you could taste good.” I may or may not have made a show of licking my lips to prove my point.

He threw his head back and moaned.

I ripped the condom wrapper with my teeth, gripping his length in one hand and rolling the condom down it with the other. I let him slap back against his stomach and he twitched again as he cursed, “Damnit, Lemon.”

I gave him a sickly sweet smile. Had he not looked so incredibly good imbued with such a level of desperation, this wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun as it was.

“Oh, she’s playing now,” he chirped at me, before looking at me dead in the eyes and stating, “If you had a different past, this would be going way differently.”

 I moved forward, feeling the length of him settle between my pussy lips and I rolled my hips, the friction so good that I swear I could feel it in every inch of my body. The crown of his head dragged against my clit and I moaned as I asked him, “What would you do differently, Barbs?”

As I slid along the length of him again, coating him in copious amounts of my wetness, he hissed, choking out, “We wouldn’t have made it this far; for one, because I would have fucked you over the back of the couch.”

“Oh?” I quipped. I honestly didn’t know being this turned on was even possible and my hands went to my breasts of their own accord, holding them in my hands and rolling both nipples between my fingers.

Mark slammed his head back into the pillows, eyes screwed shut, as he took a deep breath and rasped, “Fuck babe, this is better than literally every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”

“Really?” I breathed, rocking against him, enjoying hearing him say it. “I’m not really even doing anything…” As the pleasure coursed through my body, I could hear my voice falter and I was pretty sure that Mark was almost at a breaking point, if the tremor I could feel in his thighs underneath me was any indication.

“Really,” he confirmed, as I kept up my steady grind against him, his breath shallow as he continued, “What you’re doing is…..so fucking hot…” I felt him twitch against me as he confessed, “The only thing that could possibly make this better would be if I was inside of you.”

I raised up off of him and the action caused him to open one eye. Reaching between us, I angled his cock just right and started to sink down on it, pausing every few millimeters. Mark arched a brow at me as he watched, admitting, “Lemon, if you want me to beg for it, all you have to do is ask. But since you haven’t, I gotta know, are you trying to kill me?”

I shook my head, realizing that we were on two separate pages regarding my slow pace. “No,” I told him, “I’m just waiting for it to hurt.”

Mark looked at me pointedly and sat up, his arm sliding behind my thighs to prevent me from sliding down on him any farther. “Okay,” he began, “First of all, I think we need a rule: we don’t talk about previous experiences while we’re having NEW ones. Second of all, sex shouldn’t hurt EVER. I mean, unless it’s on purpose and you’re into that kind of thing. If you’re not into that, then it should never hurt. Do you understand me, Clementine?” His voice was firm and once again I had the feeling I may have trivialized something that wasn’t really trivial. 

I nodded because I couldn’t do anything else. 

He pulled me off of his cock and slid us both up the bed until his torso was resting against the headboard. 

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Mark smiled at me ruefully, bringing his lips to my neck as he whispered into my hair, “I thought I just needed to let you figure things out for yourself, but it has become glaringly obvious I need to be an active participant.”

My voice was soft as I responded, half scared and half confused, “I don’t know what you mean.”

We were still pressed closely together, and his hands trailed over my naked body, fingers teasing my nipples, as he directed me, “Kiss me, Lemon.”

I leaned forward and he moved his hands to knot in my hair, my breasts pressed against the hair on his chest as I kissed him. I kissed him deeply, trying to convey with my tongue just how much this all meant to me. 

As we kissed, one of his hands slid between our bodies, his fingers slipping between my pussy lips and softly rubbing my clit. I may have mewled into his mouth, but I’d perjure myself in a court of law denying that. 

While I was rocking into his hand, he grabbed his dick and angled it just right so that the tip slid into me as I rolled my hips. The sensation made me gasp, and I rocked harder, needing more.

“That’s it, babe,” he murmured, “That’s it.” His hands were on my hips, guiding me. I curled my hands into fists on his chest, wishing his hair was long enough to grab like this, but it was still short from a summer wax.

I needed him, I needed to feel full. I slammed myself down on him and he cursed in response, cautioning, “Fuck. Easy, babe.”

“Mark, please,” I whimpered, “I need more. I need you.” My hands unclenched, and I dug my fingers into his chest desperately.

His hands tightened on my hips as his punched up forcefully and he confirmed, “Ok?”

I nodded, almost delirious with pleasure as I begged, “More.”

He set a quick rhythm with his hips, and soon all that filled the room was the squelch of our bodies coming together and our sharp breaths. 

“Fuck, I’m almost there,” he groaned, “Tine, touch yourself.”

One of his hands left my hips and he took my fingers and pressed them to my clit, “Cum with me,” he urged.

“I can’t,” I choked out.

“You can,” he encouraged, “Look at me.” 

My eyes met his and he held my gaze as he continued, “I’m gonna get tested by the team doc tomorrow, because I can’t wait to fuck you skin to skin and fill you with my cum. I can’t wait to make you mine so you never have to worry about a man hurting you ever again. Even me.”

My voice was a whisper, as I whined out “Holy shit.”

“Now fucking cum with me, Clementine.” He punched his hips up hard and I came apart in a million pieces, like a stained glass window shattering from a bomb. He thrust into me irregularly until he sagged against the headboard and cradled me to his chest. 

We lay there in a sweaty mess, panting, until I broke the silence, and repeated, “You want to fill me with your cum?”

“Lemon, I swear to God, if you ruin this perfectly good moment with some self-deprecating sarcastic comment, I’m going to tell Landy you think his magic is dumb.”

I gasped in horror, “You wouldn’t. Also, again with mentioning Landy in bed!!!”

He kissed the top of my head chuckling, “You know I would. Now, just lay there and be quiet and soak in the moment.”

We were quiet again for a long time, long enough that the sweat was starting to dry on my skin and giving me goosebumps. I shivered, and this time it was Mark who broke the silence, asking “Does Daze need dinner or something?”

At the mention of dinner, my stomach growled. “Probably,” I guessed, “I know I need dinner. Why?”

I looked up at Mark and he was staring in the direction of the door as he told me, “Because she’s been quietly staring at me since we finished. Honestly, she started even before that, and if you weren’t half as hot as you are, I wouldn’t have been able to finish.”

I chuckled against his chest and sat up, pulling my leg over him, intimately feeling the loss of him inside me. “I’ll go feed her if you order pizza,” I offered.

Grabbing his shirt from earlier off the floor, I pulled it on, though it hugged my body a little more than I would have liked.

“Babe,” he sighed, “That one is covered in cum, grab a clean one out of the drawer.”

I gave him a saucy wink as I sashayed out of the room, shouting behind me, “Maybe I wanna be covered in your cum.”

He fell over into the pillows laughing and I heard him grumble, “Fucking minx.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

#Mark Barberio #mark barberio imagine #mark barberio fic #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche rpf #avs #Avs fic #avs imagine #avs rpf #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl rpf #When Life Gives You Lemons #Clemberio #WLGYL

[spine-buster]

That Which We Are, We Are | Nathan MacKinnon | Chapter 6

gif credit @/joeydaccord

A/N: IT'S THE AFTERMATH Y'ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR

Nate wasn’t going to let Sorcha get away with what she’d done. Not by a long shot. So after he rushed through his house, put a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth, gargled some mouth wash, and changed into some respectable clothes, he packed Cox into his car and headed for Halifax.

His jaw was clenched in anger the entire drive into the city. They’d had such a great night together, eating and dancing and talking about hip-hop music, getting closer and telling each other things from deep in their hearts, and then she up and leaves? Just flat-out escapes his house undetected with her dog and books it back home somehow, even though they’re in the middle of fucking nowhere? Sure, the sex was definitely unexpected, and a by-product of how much alcohol they’d consumed, but…well…despite all the wine, Nate knew what he was doing when he kissed her. He knew what he was doing when he groped her or squeezed her ass. He’d acted on impulse but he’d been wanting to do it for a while.

It was still fairly early in the morning when he arrived at her place, and when he did, he banged on the door loudly. He wasn’t going to hide his emotions. They were open and honest with each other from the beginning, and he was going to be open and honest now. He banged on the door again after a few seconds when she didn’t answer, and his impatience got the best of him as he pounded again not long after. Maybe she was ignoring him now. Because she had to have known that he’d be angry at her escape. Maybe she was—

—Wait.

Juno wasn’t barking. If he knew anything about German shepherds and Juno specifically, he knew she would bark at the door. She wasn’t.

Sorcha wasn’t home.

He swore under his breath before marching back to his car. He hit the steering wheel in frustration and let out a loud “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!” to try and release some steam. He took out his phone to call her. It rang until it went to voicemail. He called again immediately after, only for it to ring until it went to voicemail again. When he called for a third time, it rang only twice before going to voicemail, which meant she saw his name appear on Caller ID and refused the call.

Well, at least she was fucking alive.

Nate huffed and puffed as he started his car. He knew that she had to come back to her apartment from wherever she was at some point, but he wasn’t going to stake it out like some sort of undercover cop. He had better shit to do, like think about other ways he could try to contact her and ask her what the fuck was going on. Work email? Texts? Those could all be ignored. Those could also be used against him in a court of law, so they were nixed. More phone calls, maybe? Whatever Nate ended up choosing, he knew that she was at least going to get a rude awakening at work on Monday morning, that was for sure. Until then, he knew that his temper couldn’t get the best of him. He knew that he needed to calm down and actually think about what he was going to say to her besides just yelling and screaming. He began the drive to his parents’ house, knowing that just their presence alone would be able to calm him down. Plus, it was prime breakfast time. Maybe he’d talk to his dad about it, and he’d give some wise words of advice. He always did.

As Nate drove out to Cole Harbour, the streets of the neighbourhood he grew up in were all too familiar to him. Even them alone calmed him, since they brought back so many happy memories. As he turned on to his parents’ street, he drove by many of the houses of his friends from elementary school. He still remembered them all, even though friends had moved out long ago and only parents really remained. Caitlin’s house. Alex’s house. David’s house. Sorcha’s house. Ryan’s house. Scott’s house.

Sorcha’s house.

Sorcha’s house!!!

He stopped so fast and heavy on the brake pedal that his tired screeched. He put his car in reverse and backed up until he was right in front of their house, where he could see two cars out on the driveway. One, a BMW SUV, he knew for sure was her step-dad’s. The other, a black Civic, he knew for a fact was Sorcha’s. She’d mentioned it before.

The absolute nerve.

He parked in the driveway right behind her car, less than a centimetre from her bumper so she had no way out, at least by car. He took a deep breath to calm himself before getting out of the car and approaching the front door. He knocked politely instead of banging on the door like he did at her apartment, and almost immediately, he heard Juno barking.

Bingo.

After a few moments, he heard the front door unlock. When it opened, he came face-to-face with Dr. Dagar and Juno sniffing at his legs. Dr. Dagar’s face lit up at who was standing on his front porch. Clearly he watched hockey, or at the very least, remembered Nate. “Well look who it is!” he smiled.

“Hello Mr. Ibrahim,” Nate said politely. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well now that I see an NHL superstar on my front door,” he joked.

Nate chuckled. “I’m sorry to bother you this early – I’m sure you and Mrs. Ibrahim are having breakfast—”

“—we are,” Dr. Dagar said. “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh no no no, I couldn’t—”

“—nonsense! You actually came at the perfect time. Sorcha is here too,” he revealed. “She’s mentioned you recently reconnected. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you at the breakfast table,” he said, moving out of the way so Nate could step in to the foyer. “What brings you here, anyway?”

Sure she wouldn’t mind him at the breakfast table, eh? Nate would bet his entire earnings on the opposite of that being true. Regardless, Nate had to be quick on his feet. “Oh, well, we were actually hanging out the other day and she forgot something—and—and I was going to wait until I saw her again, but I figured she probably needed it sooner, and I was on my way to visit my parents, and—”

“—Say no more. Come, come, come,” Dr. Dagar motioned. Nate took off his shoes and followed Dr. Dagar through the house. For how long they lived there, and for how long Nate and Sorcha had been in school together, he’d never been inside the house. It was nice, and very homey, and reminded him a lot of the house he grew up in. There were pictures of the family smiling everywhere in frames. Juno trotted along beside them, and Nate could hear Mrs. Ibrahim and Sorcha talking.

When he showed up in the doorway, her face dropped. “Hello,” he smiled, more so at Mrs. Ibrahim than at Sorcha.

“We have a guest!” Dr. Dagar announced, extending his arms like a magician.

“Oh! Nathan! It’s you!” Mrs. Ibrahim exclaimed happily, getting up from her seat and walking straight over to him for a hug. “How are you? Come in, come in! Take a seat!”

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced—”

“—Nonsense! Sit! We have more than enough,” she said, even going so far as to pull out a seat from him, directly across from Sorcha, who was giving him a death glare. “Do you like scrambled eggs, Nathan? We have turkey bacon, too, because Dagar doesn’t eat pork, of course.”

“Both sound great, Mrs. Ibrahim.”

“It’s Maryanne, Nathan. You know that.”

“I think if my parents found out I called you anything besides Mrs. Ibrahim they’d smack me upside the head,” he joked.

Both Dr. Dagar and Mrs, Ibrahim let out hearty laughs. Sorcha was still giving him a death glare. Clearly there was no charming her, despite not needing to be charmed – it was her who would have to explain herself sooner rather than later. “How are Graham and Kathy doing? We see them every so often walking the goldens. Do they come visit you in Colorado?”

“They’re doing great, thanks for asking,” Nathan said as he watched Maryanne scoop heaps of scrambled eggs onto his plate. He made sure he looked at Sorcha’s plate and saw she was already done her breakfast. He planned to scarf his down so they could get out of there as soon as possible. “And yeah, they come visit quite often. Not as often as when I first started living alone, but—well, you know—”

“Can you believe Nate still didn’t know how to boil pasta at, like, 21?” were the first words out of Sorcha’s mouth since he walked into the Ibrahim household. “He was telling me one night at dinner.”

Before Mr. or Mrs. Ibrahim could say anything, Nate piped up, knowing he’d have to take the shot until he was able to get Sorcha alone. “I was a spoiled hockey player, what can I say,” he shrugged playfully, looking at her. “Not as good a cook as you are. That panzanella you made yesterday was incredible.”

Sorcha’s face dropped. Checkmate. He wasn’t fucking around.

“Oh! You two hung out yesterday?” Mrs. Ibrahim looked between the two. “How lovely! What did you do?”

“We just hung out at my place on Grand Lake,” Nate answered quickly, before Sorcha could lie. He watched as she squirmed in her seat.

“What did she forget that you have to return?” Dr. Dagar asked.

“Juno’s kennel,” he said. He wasn’t lying – she really did forget the kennel, and it was in the trunk of his car.

“Well, it’s nice to see you two reconnecting,” Mrs. Ibrahim said. “All those years in elementary and high school together – even growing up on the same street – and you never became friends.”

“Yeah. We have so much in common that we never realized. I think we’re making up for lost time now,” Nate replied, eyeing Sorcha. “Don’t you think?”

She was going to kill him. “Absolutely.”

Nate carried on a polite conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Ibrahim until he stuffed the last forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Sorcha stayed silent for most of it, eyeing Nate whenever he said something. It was only when Mr. and Mrs. Ibrahim began clearing the table and bringing everything to the kitchen that they got even a few seconds alone. “So are we going to talk or what?” Nate asked quickly.

“Do we have to?”

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t think she would have this immaturity in her. He would have to call the shots here. “Looks like I’m coming over yours when we’re done here,” he said.

“Nate, would you like some coffee, dear?” Mrs. Ibrahim called out from the kitchen.

“We’ve both gotta go, mom,” Sorcha said. “Nate does workouts in the mornings with Andy O’Brien.”

“Are you saying that name as if we should know who he is?” Dr. Dagar asked.

Sorcha smiled – a real, genuine smile for her step-dad. “No. Sorry dad. Don’t worry. But Nate’s gotta go.”

Nate and Sorcha said their goodbyes, and Mr. and Mrs. Ibrahim gave him warm hugs and told him to say hello to his parents, because of course they did, because they were good people, before he descended down the front porch steps. Sorcha followed him with Juno on a leash. It was only when they got to his car, parked on the street, that she said anything. They were far enough away that her parents wouldn’t hear her. “I guess I’ll see you at mine?” she asked as he popped his trunk.

“Of course. You’re not getting away with this,” he told her.

“I was hoping I could.”

“And why is that?”

Sorcha didn’t answer. She pulled Juno’s kennel out of his trunk and didn’t even meet his eye. “You remember your way, yeah?”

“Duh. It was just fucking yesterday, Sorsh.”

She didn’t say another word. Instead, she carried the kennel to her car, shoved it in the trunk, and loaded Juno into the backseat carrier. Nate watched the whole thing until he saw Sorcha walk over to the driver’s side and wave goodbye at her parents. Nate waved too before getting into his car. He drove off without waiting for Sorcha.

They arrived at her apartment at the same time. And without saying a word, they got out of their cars. Juno was none the wiser, wagging her tail at Nate. It was only when Sorcha stuck her key in the door that Juno became preoccupied with something else. When Nate followed Sorcha through the doorway and stepped through the entrance, he was surprised at how big and open her apartment was. He knew she described it as a loft, but he felt like a lot of people said ‘loft’ when they really just meant ‘big window’. This wasn’t that – this was a true loft. And the first thing that he noticed wasn’t the kitchen or the view or anything like that. It was the art. Her art. Scattered everywhere. Some hanging on the wall. Some on easels. Some stacked against a wall. Some sketches taped with painter’s tape. And they were beautiful, too – some portraits and others landscapes, so colourful and creative and beautiful.

“Wow,” Nate mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Sorcha deadpanned.

He hesitated, wondering if he should even bring it up. When he first asked about seeing her art many weeks ago, at their oyster dinner, she’d said “maybe” and that was it. There hadn’t been an invitation since – not that Nate asked or pestered her about it, though she’d brought up her art since then. Nate knew art was personal and for Sorcha specifically, it was an outlet where she could express herself after years of not being able to. “Your art,” he said, pointing haphazardly towards a stack of canvases on the furthest wall. “You’ve never let me see it before. It's incredible.”

“Thanks,” Sorcha said, her voice tight. “It was all I was doing in my sketchbooks while your friends were making whale sounds every time they saw me.”

Nate’s body stiffened. After Shane’s asinine behaviour last week at his house, Nate didn’t know when he’d not be able to cringe or get angry anytime someone brought up a memory from the past. “Sorsh, I—”

“—Don’t—I—it’s okay,” she waved him off. “That was—I don’t even know what I was thinking saying that. Just forget I said it.”

Nate stared at her, and in a gentle voice, he asked, “So are we gonna talk?”

It was the first time since Nate reconnected with her that Sorcha looked nervous. “What’s there to talk about?” she asked. He could tell she was attempting to make her voice sound void of emotion, but he knew that wasn’t the case. “We were two drunk idiots who had sex. It’s not that deep.”

Nate furrowed his brows. “What’s your deal?” he demanded. “Why would you say something like that?”

It was time for Sorcha to give him a look. “Because it’s true?” she said. “What else would it be? I freaked out, okay? I’ll admit that. I woke up at like three in the morning with a pounding headache and with you lying beside me in bed, and I freaked out. I grabbed my clothes, grabbed Juno, and got the hell outta dodge. And maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision to make, but it was the decision I made—”

“Sorsh, come ooonnn,” he lamented, walking towards her so they were now close. Nate couldn’t believe she was being so dense. But then a thought suddenly entered his mind. “Wait…” he said. “That wasn’t…that wasn’t your first time having sex, was it?”

If the beauty of Helen of Troy’s face could launch a thousand ships, then the scowl on Sorcha’s could have launched a million. “Oh, fuck off, Nathan!” she screamed. “Of course that wasn’t my first time, you idiot!!!”

“Then why are you freaking out so much?!” he demanded. “Why are you straight up refusing to talk to me?!”

“We were two drunk idiots, Nate. That’s it,” she said – trying to say it definitively. “We slept together because we were two drunk idiots.”

“I didn’t sleep with you because we were two drunk idiots,” he said. “I slept with you because I like you, Sorcha. Because I’m into you.”

They let the words hang in the air as they stared at each other with strained looks on their faces – Nate because he’d just revealed what he revealed to Sorcha, and Sorcha because…well, for all her confidence, there was still some shock in hearing the words be said out loud. “You’re what?” she asked.

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“Did you just say out loud that you’re into me?”

“I haven’t made it obvious in the past weeks?” Nate countered. “Every lunch or dinner we’ve had, every walk, inviting you up to my place…you honestly had no idea?”

“Nate…come on,” she almost begged. “I—you—you can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious about this?”

It was clear to Sorcha that Nate wasn’t joking – he was being completely serious. She knew what her feelings were, and now? To hear his too? That they were the same feelings she was having, the same feelings she’d felt for weeks? She didn’t think it was possible. She knew they had a lot in common now, that everything was going fine and dandy, but this? This? And it wasn’t because she didn’t think she was worthy of romantic feelings from Nathan MacKinnon – she knew she was totally worthy – it was because she didn’t think he’d ever say it. It was one thing to have feelings for the fat girl; it was another to admit it out loud. Usually people hid their feelings out of embarrassment, feeling shame for having feelings for someone that society didn’t deem conventionally attractive. But not Nate. The urge within her to deflect momentarily became stronger than her will to accept. “I don’t think I—”

Sorcha wasn’t able to finish her thought because Nate had kissed her. It was like those scenes in movies where couples were fighting and one of them shut the other up with a kiss. Except she and Nate weren’t a couple. Sorcha always thought that if that ever happened to her, she’d push the person away and yell at them for interrupting her. She still believed she would if it were anyone else besides Nate. With Nate, she didn’t. She didn’t push, she didn’t pull away, she didn’t do anything except kiss him back after quickly getting over the initial shock. His lips felt just as nice as they did last night. And she wanted his lips on hers. She did.

When Nate pulled away, their foreheads still together keeping them close, Sorcha gulped. “That felt good.”

Nate kissed her again, knowing she’d enjoy it. This time, instead of taking time to acclimatize, she kissed him back right away. They kissed again for a while before Sorcha pulled away. “I don’t think I should be hooking up with a guy who was complicit in my bullying,” she mumbled.

Nate kissed her again. He knew that was a lie. That she was just making up excuses so she could hear the sound of her own voice. So she could justify to herself…what exactly? She said she forgave him a long time ago. Twice. Three times, Nate thought.

Sorcha broke away again, far enough to look at Nate. “I didn’t mean that,” she mumbled again.

“I know you didn’t,” he said. “Will you just shut up and let me kiss you now?”

They kissed each other. Over and over and over. Over and over and over until Nate had to take a breath, over and over until Sorcha had to take a breath, over and over until she jumped and sat on her counter, over and over until Nate stood between her legs, over and over until their hands wandered along each other’s bodies, over and over until Sorcha ran her hands through Nate’s hair, over and over until – finally – they needed to take a serious breather or else they’d both pass out from a lack of oxygen.

Their foreheads were still pressed against each other’s. They were silent – only able to hear the sounds of their own breathing – before Sorcha spoke. “This isn’t much of a talk.”

Nate snorted, and Sorcha giggled, and soon they were laughing at the ridiculousness of her comment. “I think we’re doing pretty okay,” he commented.

“I’ll say.”

They were silent again. Nate brought his hand up, from her hip, and cupped the side of her face. “For the record,” he whispered, “I’ve changed just as much as you.”

Sorcha nodded. “I know,” her voice was soft. “I know you have. I was just being an idiot. I’m sorry. Our history is just a bit, well…muddled. I know we’ve been having a great time together, but it still came as a bit of a shock when you, like, said the words out loud. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I know that neither of us were expecting this when I showed up at your work asking you out for lunch. But I wouldn’t say something if I didn’t, like, mean it. And I mean this. I want you to know that. Can we both at least admit that we’re into each other?”

Sorcha couldn’t help but smile slightly. “We’re into each other.”

“Finally, you say it out loud.”

“Don’t push it,” she giggled slightly.

Nate couldn’t help but kiss her again. “You know what people who are into each other do?”

“What’s that?”

“They go over to the other’s house a lot,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “And I mean like, a lot.” Kiss. “Like, on weekends.” Kiss. “Next weekend, even.” Kiss.

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.” Kiss. “And maybe…”. Kiss. “They even go up on Thursday after work.” Kiss. “To get some alone time with each other.” Kiss. “Before the house party on Saturday night.”

Sorcha stiffened slightly at the revelation. “House party? Big house party? Everyone coming?”

“No. It’s not what you think,” he said. “Just Kehoe and Lucas. No Noah. No Shane. They’re not invited. But, like, Sid will be there, and I invited his best friend June, too. You’ll love her. And some of my cousins will be there. A couple of my other friends, and maybe friends of friends. But not Noah and Shane. I want you there more than anyone else. I just want you around with me.”

The last time Nate asked her to go up while others were going to be there, she said no – for obvious reasons. And though slow, Nate realized why she’d rejected the proposal. But now, with everything being out in the open, with their feelings known and the chemistry between them unmistakable, Sorcha had a different outlook on the situation. She wouldn’t just be there – she’d be there with Nate. And if it was mainly going to be Kehoe, Nate’s cousins, Sidney (who she’d probably fawn over all night, if she was being honest), and Sidney’s best friend June whom she would apparently love, then she was more than willing to go. No Noah, and especially no Shane, was like music to her ears. She cupped his face in her hands, running her thumbs along his thin lips softly. “I’ll see if I can take the day off Friday,” she whispered, making him smile.

“Perfect,” Nate smiled. “You and I are going to have so much fun, Sorcha Saint-Coeur.”

Sorcha smirked. “You’re going to get me into so much trouble, Nathan MacKinnon.”

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon fan fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche fan fic #nathan mackinnon blurb #colorado avalanche blurb #avs imagine #avs fic #avs fan fic #avs blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #that which we are we are series

[happer08]

French Toast

Bo couldn't sleep. He'd been laying in bed for hours; the light from the moon peeking from under the blinds was too bright, his blanket too hot, and having a leg out was too cold. Bo sighed, tossing his blanket off him and sitting up in bed. Reaching for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone; the do not disturb screen dulled the usual bright screen as he slid up and clicked his messages. It was later than he wanted to text, but he hoped you'd come over. You were the last to text before he put his phone away for the night. 

"hey, u up?"

The blue bubble was delivered, and Bo just stared at it. 

"Read at 2:58."

Bo breathed. 

"you okay?"

"can't sleep."

"get off your phone, goober."

"Can you come over, maybe"

"is your door unlocked?"

"it will be when you get here; just come lay down."

"on my way."

You got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie, pulling it on, then stepping into a pair of slippers. You pocketed your phone before grabbing your softest blanket. You took the elevator to the floor above you, stopped at Bo's door, and went in. 

His whole apartment was dark aside from some fairy lights you insisted he hung over the big window. The door to his bedroom was half closed, and you could see the light from his phone illuminating the wall behind his bed. You knocked quietly, then pushed the bedroom door open; Bo dropped his phone to his chest and smiled widely at you. 

"Hi, Bo," you smiled, taking a few more steps into his room. 

He held the blankets open, and you stepped out of your slippers, joining him. His bed was warm, and the area around where his body dipped was warmest. You tucked your hands under his bare torso and sank against him. 

"You okay?" you asked again, your cheek pressed against his chest. "It's not your head again, is it?" 

"No, no," Bo moved, wrapping his arms around you and gently squeezing you to his chest. "Just one of those nights I can't sleep, you know." 

You hummed quietly as Bo rubbed your shoulder. 

"Does having someone here help?" you mumbled and looked up at him. 

Bo nodded, hugging you tighter to his chest. 

You rested your hand over his chest, rubbing your thumb over the warm, soft skin. 

"Thank you," he hummed. 

You hummed back and took a deep breath settling in on top of him. It wasn't long before Bo started snoring a little, his grip around you loosening a little. 

Shortly after, you followed him into sleep, the long warm line of his body comforting you. 

The sun coming through his blinds woke you up. Finding yourself alone in his big warm bed, you felt around for his warm skin and felt nothing. Opening your eyes to glance at the door was mostly closed and cracked, and you could hear movement in the living room and kitchen. 

You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, cape-like, and followed the noise, finding Bo thanking someone at the door. Standing in his doorway, you looked at him. 

"Oh, you're up," he smiled, setting a full brown bag on the kitchen counter. "I got us breakfast."

You squinted from the brightness of his living room. 

"French toast, sit. I'll get you some coffee." 

#bowen byram #bo byram #Colorado Avalanche #this boy #coloardo #avs imagine #fluff #josh manson #hockey #nhl #nhl imagines #imagines #avs #avalanche #avalanche imagines

[back-to-rose]

New Hairstyle Kakashi!

#hatake kakashi #naruto #naruto art #kakashi hatake #kakashi #I think we ave been robbed #just imagine him with his headband this way #what a cutie #my art #sketching

[silverdune]

iced oat latte, extra shot | p.sh

"could i get an iced oat latte with an extra shot, please?"

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: slice of life

character(s): park seonghwa (ft. you, as a barista, kim hongjoong, kang yeosang, choi san, choi jongho)

tags: guitarist!seonghwa, barista!reader, coffee shops, meet-cute energy, first meetings, fluff, sh plays guitar for an indie band and has a brow bar piercing, 5+1 things

word count: 4.5k

summary: droopy hair, an electric guitar and an iced oat latte, extra shot; add those together and you get a handsome, wonderful guy named park seonghwa - or, the five times he visits your coffee shop, and the one time you watch his band play..

a/n: for peony, aka @hyungseos-cafe, one of my closest friends in this entire world. i love you so so so much, thank you for everything that you've done, you mean so much to me. when i thought about what to write you, i went through a few ideas until it clicked: what better for the barista (😉) than a coffee shop meet-cute?☺️🫶 (wonder why i asked whether seonghwa was your bias?🤭 hehe now you know). i really hope you enjoy this, this one's for you!

The first time he steps into your coffee shop, there's a carry case for a guitar on his shoulder.

Your eyes flicker to the door as soon as it opens. It's become a sixth sense at this point; you are always in tune to when a customer enters. Most of the time it's a regular, someone whose order you've memorised from top to bottom, but sometimes you have the pleasure of a newcomer giving your café a chance.

You run a fairly quaint coffee shop on the corner of the street. Small in scale and loved for its botanical decor, you enjoy fairly steady streams of people coming and going, either for their morning espresso shots or their midday mochas. Nothing puts a smile on your face more than the way their eyes light up as you slide their beverage across the counter, and by the end of the day, the little notebook you leave out for people to write reviews has pages filled with the kindest comments. It's even got to a stage where you'll be needing a new one soon.

The morning had been relatively quiet - expected for a Wednesday. Your regular customers had already come and gone, and your coffee shop was now going through its lull period before the afternoon rush. One glance at your watch told you it was roughly 11am, and so you’d got to work wiping the counters down when the door opened almost unexpectedly.

You had never seen this guy before. He offers an amicable smile almost instantly and it makes you do the same in return. “..Hi!” you call out to him.

“Hey..!” he replies, waltzing over to the counter before setting his carry case down. You’re automatically intrigued by it, as noted by your head tilting to the side when he leans it up against the glass shielding all the baked goods. You don’t stare for too long though, and gaze back up at him with a polite grin on your face. “Could I get an iced oat latte with an extra shot, please?”

The swiftness at which he places his orders leaves you befuddled for a time until you can coax your brain back into gear enough to press buttons on the till. “U- um- Did you say oat milk..?”

“Yes, yeah- sorry-” he says, and it hits you just then that he is quite flustered.

You take a look at his face and it’s clear he’s in a rush to go somewhere. You wonder if the guitar case has anything to do with it, but you decide not to partake in small talk for the time being. This guy has got places to be. “With an extra shot, you said..”

In the midst of digging his wallet out of his jacket, he looks up. “Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I probably spoke really fast, it’s just I overslept and am nearly late for rehearsal..” A nervous laugh escapes him as he rests his elbow on the counter.

Rehearsal.. “That’s not a problem,” you assure with sincerity. Iced oat latte with an extra shot.

You tell him the price and he takes out a few notes before resting them in your hand. You count through, then place the money in the till and give him his change before directing him further along the counter so he can wait for his drink. He thanks you kindly and picks up his case then saunters over to the other side of the display case, his eyes fixated on the coffee shop itself.

In your peripheral vision, you notice that he is studying the environment like an art critic would scrutinise a painting. Everyone who has ever wandered into your café and chosen to make any kind of comment has only had the nicest things to say about it, but something about his unwavering gaze makes your nerves spike just a little.

It only takes you thirty seconds to complete the order, and by the time you’ve set it down in front of the new customer, his eyes are back on you. He smiles wide and it’s perhaps the friendliest you have ever seen on a person. “Thank you so much.” He takes the drink appreciatively. “Can I just say, I think this place looks so cute!” The second he says it your mind settles completely. “Did you do all the decorating?”

You humbly nod, “I did, yeah.. I just really like plants, so..” You vaguely gesture around at the variety of plants and flowers dotted all over the shop, and he glances around with a small chuckle. “That pretty much formed the basis of the whole theme.”

“I love it.” He looks back at you. “I’ll bring the rest of the band here soon, I think they’d really like it.”

Band.. bite your tongue, don’t ask questions, he’s in a rush. "Well, I’ll be happy to welcome them when you do decide to invite them along.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll definitely be visiting again. Have a great day!” He walks off with the case on his shoulder and the oat latte in his right hand. You forgo an embarrassing wave - it was a hard thing to unlearn from your early days - and simply return the well wish of a good day.

As you head back to the till to take the next customer’s order, the guitarist surprises you.

“This is so good, by the way, probably the best latte I’ve ever had!” You smile and thank him. “Thank you! See you later!”

The door closes and you are left to both ring the next customer’s order through the till, and dwell on just how.. wonderfully bizarre that exchange was.

The elderly woman on the other side of the counter offers you a curved smile as she pays for her cappuccino.

You think about what the rest of the band might be like as you make her order.

×-×

The second time he steps into your coffee shop, he is less flustered than before, and there’s no carry case.

He is wearing a different outfit than before, though due to the hurried nature of the first transaction you didn’t even think of his outfit.

Today it is a simple leather jacket over a white shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair is quite long and droops over his brows. There’s a hint of a brow bar tucked underneath the waves. He smiles at you as he approaches the counter. “Hi, again.”

‘Hi.. again,” you chuckle. “Same order, or something different?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Do you remember my order?”

It had been a few days since he had last come into your shop, but you could remember his order easily. “Iced oat latte with an extra shot,” you say, an almost smug grin on your lips.

His jaw drops in shock. “Wow.. I didn’t think you’d remember!”

“I’ve been running this shop for the last two years, I’ve come to memorise nearly every one of my customers orders.” A hand rests on your hip; there is a pride coursing through you that the man opposite notices straight away.

‘Well I must admit, I think that’s quite impressive.”

He seems more relaxed today. There’s less urgency, he appears to be up for a chat. You leisurely ring his order through and a lightbulb goes off in your head. “I imagine it’s similar to.. memorising guitar chords?”

His cheeks grow flushed and he eyes the floor briefly. “Ha.. Couldn’t hide the guitar case, huh?” He glances back up with a knowing look in his eyes.

The corner of your lips tilt up. “I won’t lie, it was quite the defining aspect of your entrance last week,” you joke.

He teasingly lifts his hands in defence. “Okay, okay, I admit, I play guitar for a band.. Though considering I literally mentioned my band the last time I was here, that’s not exactly a big revelation is it?” You shake your head playfully. “Damn it.”

You laugh out loud as you open the till to finalise the payment. He hands you over the exact amount this time and you pop it in before closing it.

As you both walk over to the opposite side of the counter, he picks the topic back up. “To answer your previous question, I suppose it is a bit like memorising chords. I’ve got so many up there-” he taps his temple, “and my bandmate always has me learning more. He says it’s good to flex the brain muscles but I swear I must have learned more than a hundred chords by now?”

“Holy shit- sorry..” You cover your mouth with your hand and it makes him laugh. “Shouldn’t swear in front of customers.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. How many times during rehearsals do you think I hear the frontman cuss? Answer: way too many times.”

You shake your head, a faint hint of a smile still on your lips. You finish up the latte and place it down in front of him, to which he thanks you before taking a sip. “This is seriously so good.. How do you make it so good?”

“Months of practice and good technique.”

“Typical magician, never giving away their secrets.”

You tap the side of your nose in an attempt to ignore any shyness at the comment. It’s a good thing the guitarist is walking away, otherwise he might notice that his innocuous statement is actually-

He turns to look directly at you. You hope your eyes growing three times their average size is not weird or anything.

“I never told you my name before. Might be worth knowing so you don’t just think of me as guy with the guitar for the rest of your life..”

You trample down any overt apprehension in a bid to seem cool and casual. “I don’t know, I was really betting on that nickname sticking.”

You can totally hold a normal, average conversation.

He titters at that remark. “Well, in case it doesn’t, the name’s Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa.

“Nice to meet you, Seonghwa.”

“Nice to meet you too.. N.” He draws emphasis on your name to make clear that he searched for it on your name tag. You suddenly feel its weight on your shirt. You had often wondered why you ever committed to wearing the damn thing from the start.

You look at Seonghwa. There are moments when you are reminded of the reason.

“I hope to see you again soon, Seonghwa.”

Internally, you scream. Why don’t you hide your face in the sofa while you’re at it?

Seonghwa smiles, teeth and all, and it almost sparkles against the lights in the café like a cartoonish effect. “I’ll bring the band next time, I promise.”

He leaves with that vow, and you are left to mull over exactly what you did for the universe to betray you like this.

Seonghwa’s kinda cute. And he’s a guitarist in a band. This is troubling.

You throw the cloth to one of your co-workers who had been watching this entire time and couldn’t get the grin off her face, then retire to the backroom for fifteen minutes to seriously reflect on this past week.

Had you been wondering whether he’d come back a second time? Maybe.

Did you think he would? Absolutely not.

Does he seem the type to follow through on his promises? He seems convincing enough.

Do you now have to prepare for the probability of an entire band waltzing through your door in a matter of days?

If Seonghwa is to be believed.. that's a handful more orders to remember.

×-×

The third time he steps into your coffee shop, there are four other guys with him.

You automatically assume they make up the rest of Seonghwa's band, and your thoughts are confirmed when Seonghwa steps up to the counter to greet you. “Hey, N! Told you I’d bring them along.”

When the five of them are standing directly in front of you, Seonghwa introduces his bandmates. “N, meet Hongjoong, San, Yeosang and Jongho.” He gestures to each guy as he says their names; to his left is Hongjoong, to Hongjoong's left is San, to San’s left is Yeosang, and to Yeosang’s left is Jongho.

“Hey!” You tip your head to the quartet on Seonghwa's tail and they all return the gesture in near unison. “Indeed you did; it's really nice to meet you all.”

"Pleasure's ours!" says Hongjoong. His bright blue hair was the first feature you spotted when he walked in. "We've heard you make excellent coffees."

You humbly eye the counter for a brief second before glancing back up. “Is that so?”

San pipes up, “Seonghwa told us so-” Yeosang nudges his side, and the rest of the band side eye him, most of all Seonghwa himself, who then makes eye contact with you with a nervous smile on his face.

Shyly, you drum your fingers on the side before asking, “What can I get for you all then?”

“Well, you know my order,” replies Seonghwa. His voice reaches a slightly lower octave than you’ve heard it go up to this point, and for some reason your heart skips a beat. Seonghwa clears his throat as he realises exactly how that sounded. God, does he wish the ground would swallow him whole.

You catch the way his bandmates exchange knowing looks before turning back to you..

..and you get a strong urge to hide under the counter.

Jongho speaks up to clear the awkward air, “Could I get a regular cappuccino, please?”

You tap a few buttons. “Any alternative milk?”

“No thanks,” he answers with a smile. You nod and wait for the next request.

Yeosang follows, “Regular latte for me please, do you have almond milk?”

“Almond? Yep!”

San continues, “I’ll have an.. iced americano please.”

“Iced americano..” you repeat back under your breath.

“And for me,” says Hongjoong, “just a regular iced americano as well, please.”

“So that's one cappuccino, almond latte, two iced americanos.. and one iced oat latte, extra shot.”

Seonghwa bows his head coyly at the fact you remembered. It shouldn't come as a surprise to him, and yet it makes his heart flutter a little.

This is only the third time you’ve crossed paths and already, he thinks you're incredibly kind and incredibly cute.

If only he had the courage to ask you..

“Is that everything for you?”

Your voice cuts through his thoughts and he almost fumbles over his words. “U- Uh, yeah, I think that's everything.” He confirms it with the other guys before you total up the cost. They pay for their respective drinks individually before standing to one side.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Hongjoong pulling Seonghwa away to talk to him. You don't let that distract you; their conversation is none of your business anyway.

As you get the drinks done, San steps forward and asks, “So, how long have you been running this café?”

“Oh, about two or so years.”

“Wow! Have you always wanted to open a coffee shop?” Yeosang and Jongho listen with equal interest.

Every so often, your eyes peer over their heads to the conversation between Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

You notice Seonghwa's facial expression - he seems.. exasperated?

“Um, N?” Yeosang snaps you out of your thoughts and you shake your head mildly. Damn curiosity.

“Oh, uh- ahem, well..” What was the question, what was the question.. coffee shop! “Ah! I guess it was always kind of a dream of mine? In the back of my head, I wondered what it would be like to open a cute little coffee shop. It took a lot of hard work to get here though. What about you and the band?”

Jongho answers, “That all started with those two.” He gestures to the pair behind them coming to the end of a seemingly heated discussion before arriving back at the counter. They realise everyone - including you - have turned to them and clear their throats of embarrassment.

“Is everything alright?” Hongjoong wonders.

“Oh, yeah, N just asked about us and the band,” replies San.

Seonghwa makes direct eye contact with you.

You divert your gaze and carry on making the drinks.

The air goes silent for only a few seconds and yet it feels like a few hours. Seonghwa moves to stand beside San and he can sense Hongjoong’s eyes boring into his back.

You finish making the two iced americanos and slide them across the counter. Both Hongjoong and San thank you and you move on to making the almond latte.

Hongjoong takes a sip and lets out a pleased hum, “Hm, this is really nice.” San nods in agreement. “So I guess it’s true, you do make excellent coffees.”

You chuckle under your breath, unable to ignore how Seonghwa keeps going back and forth between looking at you and staring at his hands.

It’s almost like he wants to ask you something.

Jongho brings a clenched fist to his lips and coughs into it deliberately, “Why don’t you tell them about how we started the band?”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both lock eyes with him. Hongjoong gives Seonghwa a look then sips his americano.

Through a grit-like expression, Seonghwa turns back to you and says, “We’ve been a band for about three years. Hongjoong and I have known each other for five years, it was really his idea.”

“You were good at the guitar and I liked to write music, it felt like a no brainer,” Hongjoong explains.

You finish up the latte and pass it to Yeosang, who nods his head appreciatively. You turn back to Seonghwa and feel nerves creep up the back of your neck.

Something about the conversation they’d had left you feeling out of sorts. The way Seonghwa is looking at you now, his timid eyes and twitching lips teetering on the edge of getting something off his chest that you are most unsure of, is making you rather conscious of how slow your movements are. You make an effort to hurry through the rest of the order as you can see a queue forming across the counter.

Once the remaining two drinks are done, you hand them over and smile. Seonghwa smiles right back at you, and as the band bid you goodbye and turn to leave, you catch Hongjoong nudging Seonghwa back towards you as Seonghwa protests each gesture.

You distract yourself by tending to the next string of customers, all now rather impatient that they had to wait an extra couple of minutes while you were busy with the band. Every other second, you catch Seonghwa and Hongjoong still standing at the door, and at the very last second, they both leave.

It isn’t lost on you that Hongjoong appeared disgruntled at a display of what seemed to be stubbornness.

For the rest of your shift, you question exactly what happened between them, why Seonghwa was looking at you like that and why Hongjoong was acting the bizarre way that he was.

One thing is for certain; it wasn’t exactly the smoothest introduction to Seonghwa’s bandmates.

×-×

The fourth time he steps into your coffee shop, he stands motionless at the door for a few seconds.

You hear the bell and instantly look over, only to find Seonghwa staring out of the window with his hands on his hips.

A part of you wants to call out to him and ask if he is okay. You don’t want to tear him from his train of thought, though, so you continue wiping down the coffee machine and other such tasks that need doing during the lunch rush.

While you step out from behind the counter to clear a few tables, Seonghwa turns around to find that you have disappeared. He anxiously searches for you and spots you in the far corner of the cafe, spraying a table and cleaning it with a cloth.

He breathes in and out a few times, wondering if he should go through with what he knew he wanted to do the second time he stepped into this coffee shop.

Every day since the last time - a whole two weeks at this point - he had been thinking about how that occasion went.

Not the smoothest, he reckoned.

Hongjoong had harped on at him that if he liked you, he should just swallow his nerves and ask you.

But now, you seem preoccupied. He doesn’t want to distract you. He also doesn’t want to make a bigger fool of himself than he probably did last time.

With an exhale, he turns his back and leaves the coffee shop.

You raise your head and see the door closing behind a familiar figure, that same figure walking further and further away from your cafe.

You shrug a shoulder to yourself. Maybe you won’t get that answer.

At least you can say it was nice to meet him. He was a kind, sociable soul. You’ll think about that smile for some time.

With that in the back of your mind, you continue your shift as normal.

×-×

The fifth time he steps into your coffee shop, there’s a carry case for a guitar on his shoulder.

It had been a whole fortnight.

In truth, Seonghwa’s face had popped up in your head from time to time. You wondered if he would ever pay a visit again, just to see how you were, or maybe try one of the baked goods you’d noticed he had been eyeing each time he walked through the door.

It’s a surprise to see him again, albeit a pleasant one.

Much like the first time, he appears flustered, but for some reason this feels different.

The calm way in which he approaches the counter doesn’t invoke any urgency, and the way he casually sets his case down doesn’t impart any sense that he needs to be anywhere anytime soon.

With a deep breath, you stand behind the till and say, “Good afternoon, Seonghwa. Long time no see.”

Seonghwa grins at you. “Way too long.”

It is statements like that that suddenly make everything from a fortnight ago come flooding back.

The way he waltzed into the coffee shop then left not five minutes later.

The way it appeared that he was itching to tell you something or ask you something when he was here with the band.

The way Hongjoong was coaxing him into going back to you when they were all prepared to leave.

The way he is looking at you right now.

He is still undeniably cute. You can’t hide from that.

You also cannot hide from the fact that he is making you feel rather bashful just by gazing at you.

“Same as always?” you ask.

“As always,” he replies. You tap a few buttons. You’re about to tell him the price when he stops you in your tracks. “And a chocolate chip muffin, please.”

“One chocolate chip muffin, no problem.”

The air becomes tangible and Seonghwa wishes he could grab it and throw it out the door so he had even the slightest chance of breaking through his nerves.

“That’ll be-”

“N-”

You stare at one another.

Your eyes go wide and Seonghwa’s mouth gapes open just a little.

“Oh, sorry, um, let me..” Seonghwa takes out the cash and hands over a bit more than necessary. You take the cash and hand back the change, the words now caught in your throat as your mind goes at a million miles a minute.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath then looks up at you. “N.. You know, I really wish I had done this last time, or the time before that.. In fact even the time before that, ha..” He laughs nervously then rubs the nape of his neck. You stand completely still, unable to move or do anything when you realise that he actually does want to ask you something.

So your suspicions were right.

Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat, gives himself a mini pep talk, then glances at you. “N. I know we’ve only crossed paths a handful of times but.. I think you’re really.. great.”

You let out the tiniest giggle and try to suppress the smile on your face.

Seonghwa grips the bridge of his nose and sighs, “God, that didn’t come out right. Basically-” He makes eye contact with you. “I wondered if you would like to come and see me and the band perform tomorrow night.”

The world stops for a second.

You stare at him, amazed.

“Oh.” It’s the only word that comes out of your mouth.

Seonghwa waits with bated breath for your response. It only takes you a couple seconds to think about it.

“I’d love to.”

That dazzling smile, teeth and all, comes running back as Seonghwa pulls a card out of his jacket pocket and gives it to you.

“That’s the venue and the time,” he says. “I’ll see you then?”

You hold the card tightly in both hands. Your heart rate has suddenly gone up; your eyes flicker up to him with a smirk.

“Absolutely.”

×-×

The first time you watch Seonghwa and his band play, you know for sure that it will not be the last.

Watching him play, you can feel the passion radiating off the stage. His voice is amazing too, serving calm backing vocals in contrast to Hongjoong’s rougher frontman energy.

You can see that he plays the rhythm guitar, while Hongjoong plays the lead, San plays the bass, Yeosang has the keyboard and Jongho has the drums. They work in perfect sync, driving rhythms and melodies straight through the floor and up to the ceiling. The atmosphere they bring is second to none, and in the back of your mind you make a note to buy an album of their music.

Every so often, Seonghwa catches your eye in the crowd. He smiles every time he sees you, and you can’t help but smile right back.

Seonghwa is so glad he finally plucked up the courage to ask you to attend.

Once the gig is done and they have said their goodbyes to the audience, you meet with the band and invite them back to the coffee shop to make them drinks.

Just like Seonghwa, you remember all of their orders.

As you hand over his iced oat latte, extra shot, he places something in your palm.

Looking down, you study the object, then immediately gaze back up at him. “Wait, is this-”

“As a thank you, for attending, and for your generosity, and for just generally being an incredibly kind person.”

You pout a little, feeling very touched, before explaining that you were planning to buy this album..

“Accept this as a gift from us to you,” he assures. You look at him again.

Seonghwa lifts his beverage to you before taking a sip of it. You chuckle and hold the album close to your chest.

You’re rather hooked on this guitarist.

Who knows? Maybe next time he steps into your coffee shop, you will have the same courage he did.

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost. ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa x reader #words.(ave) #fic: iced oat latte

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Seventeen

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,

A/N: This is just pure fluff. Plain and simple! Also I don't know just how those kissing scenes turn out? Like are they alright? I would really like to hear your opinion on them! I'm a little rusty with those scenes :/

It was late in the afternoon when Orora finally woke. She sat up, the blanket Iroh had covered her with pooling around her legs as she did. Yawning and rubbing her eyes, the young waterbender could still feel a strange tiredness emanating from within her. She'd definitely over-exerted herself when she'd given Zuko such a long healing session. It would take some time before she would be able to recover completely.

For now though, her stomach was rumbling, and all she wanted was food before soaking in a warm bath.

Finally able to blink away the last remnants of sleep from her blue eyes, she frowned curiously when she saw Zuko standing in front of the stove instead of laying down as he had been the past couple of days.

"Zuko?" She called out, voice still heavy from sleep, hair tousled, clothes rumpled and blinking up at him in an adorably half-asleep half-awake state.

He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled.

"You're finally awake. Uncle told me to let you sleep in. You've been sleeping for a long time." As he spoke, Orora slowly stood up. On instinct she walked up to stand in front of him and placed a hand on his forehead.

Zuko fell silent, amber eyes blinking at her in surprise.

Heaving a sigh of relief, coupled with a smile and her body relaxing, she shut her eyes. "Thank the Spirits the fever broke." She muttered, her body swaying slightly. "I was afraid it hadn't." Her voice sounded weak as she fell against him, her head feeling heavy.

"Woah!" His arms came up to grasp her shoulders, steadying her. "Maybe you should sleep some more?" He suggested, not at all opposed to the way she leaned against him, her eyes closed and her breathing relaxed.

She didn't seem to hear him as she nuzzled her head against his chest, arms lifting to loosely wrap around his waist. "I'm so glad you're alright Zuko." She whispered against him, feeling his arms tighten around her, holding her close. "Uncle told me how you stood for hours to help bring my fever down using your Healing Abilities." His voice was slightly muffled where he had his face buried in her hair, inhaling her scent and just basking in her presence. All of which Orora was reciprocating.

"Had to make sure you were alright. Who else is gonna annoy me every single day?" He pulled back from the gentle embrace to playfully flick her forehead. She batted his hand away, smiling at him, looking a little more awake then a few moments ago. Her eyes shone with an emotion he could not identify. "You're my friend." She said, the tip of her finger tracing along his scar, a touch that prompted him to close his eyes and just savor it, committing it to memory. "And I care about you. I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you."

Her voice hitched at her own admission, and she finally allowed herself to feel the worry and fear she had bottled away during the course of his sickness. She sighed, dropping her gaze to his chest instead.

Anything to avoid looking at him.

Anything to avoid expressing just how scared she had been.

"Hey?" The sound of his voice, so soft and gentle, had her burying her head in his chest once more. There were no tears, it would take more then him getting sick to having her sobbing, even he knew that. That was something he admired about Orora. Despite the hardships she had faced, and all that she had endured, she never cried about it. "I'm fine now. We're both alright." He reassured her.

It was strange.

Where he would've felt awkward and uneasy at having someone be sad and anxious around him, he instead felt a sense of understanding and patience. She'd been like that with him for so long, the least he could do was reciprocate the feeling when she needed him.

Once she'd calmed down, he felt her take a deep breath to gather herself. "Where's Uncle?" The words were slightly muffled, prompting Zuko to smile at her though she couldn't see it. "He went out to get everything set up at our new apartment." The young Prince responded, gently guiding her towards the small futon sofa and lowering her down so she could sit.

The waterbender made a small sound of confirmation, shaking her head. She felt Zuko move away from her, only to return a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. "Here. Uncle said this would help you recover. Its been helping me too."

Grasping the clay cup between her hands, and savoring the warmth that came with it, Orora took a small sip. Zuko, satisfied that she was drinking, took his own cup and sat down beside her. The futon sofa was big enough to fit three people, and yet the two teenagers found themselves a mere inch away from the other. Though Orora only became aware of the fact as she began to regain her strength with every sip she took.

The warm liquid helped revive her, and slowly she felt the fog of tiredness and anxiety lift from her mind, and the heaviness that weighed her down began to dissipate.

"Is this magic tea?" She asked, lifting the cup and sniffing at the content within. Zuko laughed softly. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were. I've had two cups already and I can feel my strength coming back."

Orora smiled. "Don't drink too much though. I don't want you to get too arrogant." She paused. "Well not any more then you already are." Zuko rolled his eyes though there was still a smile on his lips as he did.

"Whatever you think, I have to get my strength if I am gonna resume my position of protector." Orora frowned, turning to look at him.

"Did you get a new job?" She asked, confusion evident in her eyes, which had Zuko laughing softly. "You're still tired aren't you?" He said, his gaze so soft that she actually felt herself blush and look away.

But he stopped her, grasping her chin to guide her back to her previous position. "When I meant my position of protector I meant you Orora. Your protector."

Her mouth fell open, her eyes widened and she stared at him. Oh she could actually feel her cheek growing hot! Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Why're you so surprised? Isn't that what I've been doing since we came to Ba Sing Se?" He asked, his fingers moving from her chin to trace along her soft jawline.

"Well yes." How she regained her ability to speak, Orora had no idea. "But you always said it was annoying, having to look after me like a nanny." Spirits, his touch was distracting!

He shrugged. "It was, at first, but you somehow always made it fun." She rolled her eyes, though a small laugh escaped her. "What every girl wants to hear from their soulmate, that they had fun." Her tone heavy with sarcasm.

A thrill ran through him when he heard her call him that.

Soulmate.

"Well coming from me that's a big thing since I've rarely had any fun." Never once did he stop the gentle stroke of two fingers along her cheek. "I focused so much on making sure I didn't offend my Father that I never really had time for fun." He shrugged.

Orora pursed her lips, pouting slightly as she pushed his hand away with a small humph. "Why do you have to go and do that?" She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Zuko frowned at her in confusion. "Do what?"

Inhaling deeply, the young girl dropped the harshness of her expression to instead look at him softly. "Make me sad by reminding me just how much you've missed out." A pool of guilt settled in his stomach as he turned away from her. "I'm sorry." Her heart very nearly broke at the sadness in his voice. "I don't mean to."

Now it was her turn to guide him to look back at her. Though she did so with a firm hand against his cheek. "Well since I didn't have much fun growing up either, maybe the both of us can make up for it together?" She offered. Zuko simply nodded in acceptance, smiling at her, so open and unreserved with his feelings. "And it wasn't your fault. None of whats happened in the past was your fault." She reminded him, hoping he would somehow come to believe it as well. Zuko sighed. "I know it'll take time for me to accept that." He said, much to her surprise. She'd expected him to say something along the lines of her being wrong.

Her forehead creased. "You seem different, Zuko." He shrugged in response. "I feel different. Like some sort of weight has been lifted from my chest." Not liking how idle his hands were, he grasped her free hand between his own and began to play with her fingers.

She smiled shyly. "Well, I like this new you." She admitted, to which he raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And you didn't like who I was before?" He asked, his tone teasing as he intertwined their fingers together while her hand moved to stroke along the bottom edge of his scar. "No, I did. But I like you smiling and relaxed." She smirked, a teasing glint shining in her blue eyes. "Rather then broody and uptight."

Zuko let out a sound of protest. "I was not!" He denied to which she just laughed, before closing whatever distance was left between them and pressed her lips against his.

And this was one caress that did not stop there. Because when she tried to pull away, he followed her lips with his own, melding them together once more. And this time, to make sure she didn't pull back too quickly, he raised a hand to place at the back of her head. Orora had to tilt her head back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself to the simple, yet somehow, exquisite pleasure of just kissing him.

Her arms moved to wrap around his shoulders. Zuko let out a sigh of contentment when the act had her pressing more firmly against him. He leaned further into her, pushing her back slightly, distracting her with his kisses until little by little, she was leaning back completely and was laying on the futon sofa with him hovering over her.

Their legs were still hanging over the side of the futon, but that didn't stop the new position from becoming more intimate. Breaking the kiss to allow them both to breath, though he didn't pull away, Zuko's eyes asked a question that needed no words. Understanding, Orora gave a small nod, despite the blush that blazed across her cheeks.

Pulling his hand out from behind her head, he placed it against the side of her face. His lips grazed hers, but only briefly. Slowly he began to trail them along the side of her jaw, placing sporadic kisses as he went. His eyes were closed, but he felt her reaction. Her breath hitched, and a shuddering gasp left her lips. But that wasn't what he was focused on. Zuko was more focused on just how soft her skin was, and how warm she felt against him. A raging fire seemed to burn within him, slowly growing with each kiss.

Something he hardly noticed.

His attention was on his Soulmate as he kissed along her forehead, moving down to her nose, skipping her lips in favor of pressing a kiss to her chin instead.

The first press of his lips against her skin had her gasping in surprise. She hadn't expected it to feel so warm. Not a very apt description, but then her brain was a little too overwhelmed with emotions she had never felt before, so coming up with proper vocabulary was out of the question.

Gentle and slow, two traits that were so unlike him, and yet, he found that they came so easily to him when it concerned Orora.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his head, and remembering the sound he had made in the alley, she let her nails run along his scalp. Once again, the reaction was instant. Though his sound of approval was followed by a particularly deep kiss.

And not on her lips.

Somehow, his mouth had slid down to the sensitive area just under her jaw and had continued to slide down until it reached that soft juncture of her throat. And that was where he kissed her, teeth gently sliding along her skin. The area proved a little too sensitive, prompting an entirely new wave of feelings to overcome her every sense.

Overwhelmed, but not wanting him to stop, she placed a hand on his cheek, urging him to shift upwards, where she lifted her head to meet his lips in one final kiss. "We should stop." She whispered against his lips, eyes opening reluctantly. Though she was glad she did. Her blue eyes fastened on Zuko's face hovering above her. Committing that image to memory, she watched as he gave a reluctant nod. Sensing his disappointment, she brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Don't worry. We can pick up later." She winked, grinning at him. Smiling back, Zuko slowly sat up, pulling her along with him as he did, not letting go of her hand even after she was up.

Finishing the last of her tea, she glanced around at the still unpacked apartment. "Come on. Lets finish packing up. I'm sure Master wants us to move into the new apartment sooner then later."

"Oh yeah, he actually said we would be moving in today."

"And you're telling me now?!"

"Well yeah? I wanted to keep talking to you."

".........."

"And kissing you."

".........."

"What?"

"Just shut up, Zuko."

                                          ————————–

It didn't take long and between the both of them, they had everything packed and ready to go. It was mostly kitchen utensils, clothing and blankets. Iroh had told Orora they would be buying new furniture when they moved to the Upper Ring. Of course everything that was of sentimental value was packed up.

Within an hour, Iroh had returned, and glad to see Orora already up and about, he had declared they would be moving that very evening.

And so, the next morning, Orora opened her eyes to the sight an unfamiliar ceiling and an empty room. Yes, she had her own room. Granted it was small, but it was her own to do as she pleased.

Excited to begin the new day, she splashed water onto her face, having bathed the night before, and after making sure she was presentable, exited her room.

"Morning Master." She greeted, adjusting her comb so it would keep a few unruly strands of hair away from her face. "Good morning my Student. I hope you had a good nights sleep." He picked up a bowl to pour in the Jook he had been preparing. "Today is the grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon." Orora couldn't help but smile at how excited Iroh was.

"Of course I did and I'm certain it will be a huge success." She added, as she accepted the bowl and sat down at the table, her eyes content as she gazed out of the open window. The new apartments were far bigger then the ones they'd been living in. And though Orora would never complain, she preferred the apartment they had now. She had grown up as the daughter of a noble, so she was accustomed to certain luxuries. And while Zuko had voiced his disdain about the small size of the apartments in the Lower Ring, she had stayed quiet. She'd just been glad to have a roof over her head, and had taken note to point it out to Zuko every chance he had complained.

Footsteps sounded from behind her, prompting her to glance over her shoulder to see Zuko exiting his own room.

"What's that smell?" He asked. Iroh looked up from where he had been stirring the pot. "It's Jook. I'm sure you wouldn't like it." He added, knowing his nephew's preferences.

Zuko, however, walked up to the stove, bent down slightly and sniffed the steam that rose from the pot. "Actually, it smells delicious. I'd love a bowl, Uncle." He said, holding up a bowl and smiling pleasantly.

Iroh frowned in confusion, though began to ladle the food into the bowl. "Now that your fever is gone, you seem different somehow." He said, handing Zuko back the now full bowl.

"It's a new day." The prince stated, moving to stand behind where Orora sat so he too could look out the window while he ate. "We've got a new apartment, new furniture, and today's the grand opening of your new tea shop." He smiled at the older man. "Things are looking up, Uncle."

Master and Pupil glanced at one another in surprise as Zuko began to eat from his bowl. Iroh only smiled before turning his attention back to the stove. Orora sipped from her bowl, smiling at the taste as she did. It was simple, but whatever Iroh had added to it elevated the flavors somehow.

Though that smile turned to a look of utter shock and surprise when she felt a pair of warm yet familiar lips press to her temple. Zuko had leaned down over her shoulder and stolen the kiss.

And though Iroh's back was turned, Orora couldn't help but stare at him, a little shocked at his bold move. Zuko's lips were pulled into a smug smirk. Her mind conjured up images of his face when he had been leaning over her just yesterday. It didn't help that all those feelings she had felt yesterday came rushing to the front. Her cheeks to reddened and her heart leaped in her chest at his gesture and the reminder of her promise to him.

Later, they would continue later.

Iroh turned at that moment, and caught the shift in her expression.

"Are you alright Orora? You look a little flushed." He observed, making a bowl for himself as well.

She straightened, turning to look at him. "I'm fine Master!" She all but squeaked, prompting Zuko to let out a small chuckle. Orora, cheeks still red, pursed her lips in annoyance and pushed her chair back purposefully, catching Zuko in the stomach as she did. The Prince groaned, clutching his stomach, while the girl smirked in satisfaction and finished off her breakfast. Iroh raised an eyebrow in question, though neither teenager answered his silent inquiry.

"I'm going to go get ready then." She said. With one final annoyed look at Zuko, one which he returned with a smirk, she walked off to her room.

                                          ————————–

The grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon was a success.

Several dignitaries came, including their sponsor, not to mention the crowd of loyal customers Iroh had attained since working in the Lower Ring. Of course they were the ones from the Upper Ring since Lower Ring citizens were not allowed in the Upper Ring. It had bothered Orora a little bit, but nothing could be done about it.

Instead, she focused on fetching tea, brewing tea, making sure cups and plates were clean. Then there were the confectioneries Iroh had ordered to serve at the opening. Her Master was busy speaking with future customers, so he had put her and Zuko in charge of making sure that everything went smoothly.

Wearing a new green floor length silk kimono in dark green with gold accents, Orora smiled and chatted politely with anyone who addressed her, taking orders and making sure every kind of tea was hot and freshly brewed. Zuko was in charge of the rest of the staff. The other servers, hosts and cleaners in the back. It was rather fascinating to see him take charge like that. He had only been introduced to them in the morning and yet he had taken charge as if he were made for this role.

Then again, he was a Prince. He was taught how to take charge his entire life. Maybe now he would take charge of his own destiny as well. Realizing that perhaps she was staring, Orora moved to look away, only to pause as his amber eyes caught hers.

Despite the din of the chatting patrons around them, for a moment, everything seemed to fade away. She raised a hand, waving at him almost shyly, which was ridiculous because when did she ever feel shy around Zuko?! Still, he smiled and waved back, feeling his heart jump in his chest at her smiling back at him.

She looked so pretty in the dress she wore, he thought to himself, as she turned her attention to the tea she was making. Maybe later, when things had calmed down, they could both sit together and talk like they always did.

Or kiss, his mind supplied, reminding him of their little encounter yesterday. He had no idea where his boldness had come from, but she seemed to like it. And, truthfully, he had liked kissing her. Every aspect of his being had been focused on her, and just her. Her mere presence had that effect on him, but kissing her had only increased it tenfold.

And not only that, but he wanted to kiss her again because he liked it.

Seeing color flicker at the end of his finger, he wasn't at all surprised to see his string flickering a soft blue hue.

It reminded him of something.

Something niggled at the back of his mind, something that had happened while he'd been sick.

Something that involved her.

Maybe a dream?

Or a dream within a dream.

He wasn't sure.

He couldn't remember.

Before he had time to contemplate any further, a server called out to him, looking more then a little lost. Loosing his train of thought, Zuko walked over to help, forgetting about what had just happened.

After a few hours, the excitement died down significantly. The huge crowd started to dissipate, and now there were only a few customers sitting, drinking tea and chatting. Iroh and Zuko both stood at the head of the room, with Iroh smiling proudly.

"Who thought when we came to this city as refugees, that I'd end up owning my own tea shop?" He said. "Follow your passion, Zuko." He advised his nephew. "And life will reward you."

Zuko smiled at him. "Congratulations, Uncle." Iroh nodded, closing his eyes briefly in satisfaction. "I am very thankful." He admitted.

"You deserve it." The young Prince continued in a warm tone. "The Jasmine Dragon will be the best tea shop in the city." His Uncle had worked so hard to make a good life for them, and now it was all paying off.

His Uncle shook his head. "No." He stated, turning to look at his nephew. "I'm thankful because you decided to share this special day with me. It means more than you know." There were tears in his Uncle's eyes. Tear of happiness. Mirroring that joy, Zuko was not at all opposed to the loving embrace his Uncle pulled him in.

"Well now I'm feeling left out." The laughing voice of his Pupil chimed in a little behind them where she had just exited the small kitchen where she'd left some tea brewing. Iroh simply let out a hearty laugh, opening his arm in invitation. Orora, smiling joyfully, wasted no time in wrapping one arm around her Teacher and the other around her Soulmate, bringing them all together in a warm embrace. "I am honored to have you as my pupil, Orora. Thank you for filling our lives with such joy when we sorely needed it."

Zuko could see the utter joy in Orora's eyes when she heard his Uncle say those words to her. Coming from a family that had wanted to bend her to their will, having two complete strangers accept her was surely something she had never imagined. "And thank you for accepting me Master. It means the world to me."

Iroh smiled at her in return, the young girl he considered his own just as much as Zuko was.

His little family.

Pulling back from the embrace, the young firebender nodded in determination. "Now let's make these people some tea!" He said, already walking away.

Iroh nodded. "Yes, let's make some tea!" He stated joyfully, moving to man the several burning stoves alongside Orora.

                                          ————————–

The day was finally done, and the last of the customers had left. Iroh had just waved them off while Zuko sweeped the front steps of the shop. A tedious task, but he had seen Orora do so multiple times throughout the day, and had only followed her lead on it.

An approaching figure had him frowning in confusion as the man reached his Uncle and held out a scroll.

"A message from the Royal Palace." He stated in a dignified tone. Iroh glanced at Zuko in confusion, though he took the scroll. As he untied it, the Messenger was already walking away. Zuko watched as his Uncle read through what was written, a shocked expression overcoming his face as he did.

"I ... I can't believe it!" He gasped out loud.

A little worried, Zuko stepped forward. "What is it, Uncle?" He asked, barely having taken a step before his Uncle turned to him, smiling from ear to ear. "Great news!" He exclaimed, waving the letter in the air. "We've been invited to serve tea to the Earth King!"

Zuko stared at his Uncle in shock as well, before smiling at just how excited he was. Before he could even offer his congratulations, his Uncle had rushed off, probably to prepare for tomorrow.

Shaking his head, Zuko continued to sweep, almost missing the familiar steps as Orora approached him. "Whats got Master so excited? A new Pai Sho Tile?" She asked, laughter evident in her tone as she looked over her shoulder to where the older man was rummaging through cans of tea and such.

She was still looking at his Uncle, hands on her hips. Standing right next to him at the entrance, Zuko was, once again, given the chance to simply stop what he was doing at look at her.

After the long day, some of her hair had escaped her comb, but she was hardly bothered by it. Her clothes were a little rumpled, and she had removed her apron, but she looked just as beautiful as, really any other day.

Leaving the broom to lean against a corner, he reached out to gently take her hand in his. Orora glanced at their hands before looking up at him in confusion. She wasn't given any time to voice her thoughts though, since he tugged her outside the shop and behind one of the front doors where it was significantly darker.

But more importantly, where no one could see them.

"Zuko, wh-"

"You said we could pick it again up later." His smirk had her going weak in the knees as she stumbled back, her hand finding purchase on the wall behind her.

Zuko stepped forward, resting his forehead against her own, noses brushing, lips just barely apart, bodies grazing.

"Its later." He whispered.

Their eyes met and held. Her hand reached out to grasp his. Their fingers intertwined. Their breaths mingled.

Neither of them knew who was the first to lean forward, to initiate what could only be labeled as a heated kiss.

Whatever hesitance and shyness either of them had felt had gone out the window the moment their lips fused, meeting fervently, over and over, leaving them both light headed and panting for breath.

But it wasn't enough. It still wasn't enough.

She pulled him against her, wanting to feel him against her, though she miscalculated her own strength, leading to Zuko stumbling into her, their feet nearly tangling before her back found the wall, and they steadied one another. Neither of them were bothered by the slight stumble.

It didn't take long for Zuko to leave her lips and move to kiss her jaw, but she overtook him. So instead of Zuko kissing along her face like he had the day before, Orora began to brush her lips along his face.

She had to push herself up on her tiptoes to reach him properly, but she didn't mind. So long as he kept holding her like that, and allowed her to shower him with affection. And Zuko? He was adoring every moment of having her attention on him.

"You don't have to...." He muttered, pulling back briefly to gesture at his scar.

He had been a little nervous as her lips traced along his scar, but those feelings were quickly pushed to the side when her lips pressed against his scarred eyelid. "Your scar is only a reminder of your kind heart Zuko." She pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly just under her fingertips. "No matter how people might view it, or how you might view it, to me its the most beautiful part of who you are."

A hopeful smile brightened his features, as he brought his hands up to grasp her face and kissed her passionately, leaving her all the more breathless as he began to trace a path of kisses down her jaw to her neck.

This time when Orora trailed her fingers to his head, she didn't just stop with just a simple scrape her her nails against his scalp. Instead, she gripped the soft strands of his hair, and once Zuko's mouth pressed a kiss against that small sensitive area of her neck, she couldn't help but grip tighter.

Zuko let out a muffled growl against her throat, never letting up from his sweet ministrations. "If I pass out, its because I can barely breath." She whispered breathlessly, to which he smiled against her throat.

"Don't worry, I'll be more then happy to carry you back inside." He teased, to which she giggled, though the sound tapered off into a low moan as she felt his hot breath against her ear.

The sound of a throat being cleared rather loudly had their moment cutting short.

Both teenagers sprang apart, wearing mirror expressions of horror and embarrassment at the sight of Iroh standing there, hands on his hips. "If we are to meet the Earth King tomorrow, then I shall need both of you to help me." Though he tried to appear stern, neither of them could deny the laughter in his voice at having caught the them.

Orora blushed a bright red. "We'll be right there Master." Iroh simply humphed in reply. "See that you do." He stated sternly, though the twinkle in his eyes was a clear indication that he didn't really mean it.

He moved to step back inside the shop, but then stopped and peaked out briefly. "Though I am glad you two finally decided to let fate take it's course." With a wink that had Zuko groaning, and Orora hiding her face in her hands, Iroh walked off, chortling to himself.

"That was so embarrassing." Orora's muffled voice reached his ears. The mortification of being caught started to dissipate and he turned to pat her shoulder. "At least we have his blessing." Still more then a little humiliated, Orora punched his shoulder lightly. "I would've preferred he gave us his blessing over dinner, not while we were kissing like we were." She gestured between both of them, prompting Zuko to smirk at her words.

"And how exactly were we kissing?" If she were a firebender, Zuko was sure steam would be coming out of Orora's ears. For someone who adored physical acts of affection, she could get rather unsure and embarrassed about then when it began to get intense. Then again, he was just as unsure as she was.

This was a first for him, just as it was for her.

"Just shut up Zuko." She grumbled, stalking past him and back into the tea shop. He followed after her, coming to a sudden halt when she stopped just as the threshold. "Wait! What did Master mean, meeting the Earth King?"

Zuko shrugged. "Oh, yeah, we got an invitation to serve tea to him tomorrow."

"What?!" She screeched, rounding on him. "And you're telling me just now?!"

"Yeah?"

"Couldn't you have mentioned it before?"

"I was a little distracted by a certain waterbender."

"Argh! Zuko."

"A very pretty waterbender."

"Stop it!"

"Why? I thought girls liked this sort of thing?"

"Not out in the open like this!"

"Well I can always whisper in your ear."

He stepped forward, a teasing smile on his lips as leaned down towards her ear, almost as if he were about to whisper a secret.

And all he got for his trouble was a sudden bubble of water to the face, courtesy of a very flustered, but pleased looking, waterbender.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie

#zuko imagine #zuko x reader #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #zuko x oc #prince zuko x oc #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #avatar: the last airbender #av #avatar the last airbender #ava #avatar #netflix avatar #iroh #the thread of fate

[light-purp-insect]

Palladium (Arkham Jervis Tetch x reader)

Notes/warnings: sfw, noncon drugging, noncon nonsexual nudity, reader is called a girl (Jervis is canonically disconnected from sexuality and gender), reader is called Alice, bathing, light blood mention, whump?

Palladium; a silvery white and malleable element used in machinery and computers. Out of the Platinum Group, it has the lowest melting point and is the least dense.

“Such a silly girl, Alice.” The all too familiar and thin voice sang. High off the remaining Succinylcholine you lay limply in the already dirty bath water. Jervis has removed his gloves and coat to take a rag and wash away the dirt and bloody scratches over your body. “All those thorns must've been terrible, why did you want to play in the garden again?”

Of course you hadn't been playing in the garden, instead trying to escape once again. To no avail, nonetheless and to your dismay. His henchmen had grabbed you before you could truly get through the bushes. You couldn't give him a proper answer, just a loopy mumble of nonsense.

Jervis moved his hands to your legs. The soapy rag burned in some deeper cuts, of which made the Hatter tut at every displeased groan from your throat. “Just behave. We're not done yet, dear Alice.” The rag circled over your calves slowly and methodically. Rose scented soapy water didn't feel as comfortable as it would be if he was here.

Next was your hair, his favorite part of you. A thick glob of shampoo is lathered in his hands before he runs them through your hair and to your scalp. It seems he was going at such a snail's pace just to feel it more. You wanted to pull away, to yell at him or slap him, but instead let out a sluggish huff of protest.

“Hush, dear. Relax for me, just go back to that sleepy little space in your head. I do have to apologize, I didn't mean to give you so much.” He pouted. Rinsing his hands in the water momentarily, he continues, “Nitrous Oxide is so hard to get these days, I hope you can forgive me when you come to your senses.” He carefully tilts your chin and begins to rinse your hair.

Finally it was time for the conditioner, then this session would be over. Unlike the shampoo, he only used a small dollop. He had begun to hum to himself. “After this, it's snuggle time. Maybe I should up that dosage, though…”

#Av writes for once #jervis tetch #jervis tetch x reader #Arkham Jervis Tetch #arkhamverse #arkhamverse Jervis Tetch #jervis tetch imagine #jervis tetch x you #possible whump

[d-ave-awn]

Suuun~ 🎵🎶

He's transparent! Drag him around, you'll see 👀✨

I love this type of pose <333

Now I just have to draw a Moon to go with this Sun mmmh

> Stickers come from this post, btw:

Bonus secret:

The music sheet is not random notes; it's the first few notes of a children's catalan song about the Sun! Looking at this sheet I also realised the first note is a Sol (☀️) lmao what a coincidence

#fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sun fnaf #fnaf sb #five nights at freddy's security breach #d-ave-awn draws #for anyone curious the song is titled Sol solet #first time posting from the phone #i hope the transparency works #i imagine he's singing something very energetic and/or playful #don't know what though! #poses like this one are always super fun to draw #can't wait to draw moon too!

[daze4all]

1. Imagine Arlechinno Adopted Aventurine

2. Also Lullaby Demo Sung with English Fan lyrics

3. Aventurine Full AMV My Way Frank Sinatra

The new greet the dawn

Lovingly you burn up 

Dear Traveller

Burn Burn  Burn

Bright Bright Bright

-

Child see the truth 

Grow up before darkness overtakes you

The children are singing 

 Darkness is bringing

Sing & play peacefully, Always playing your flute

Let the old burn away for the new

 Truths 

-

Portent 

Protect 

Ave Maria

God bless

-

Portent 

Ple

Fun crossover photos i found lol

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #ave #aventurine x reader #aventurine fanart #hsr aventurine #yandere aventurine #aventurine #arl #arlechinno x reader #arle #arlechinno genshin #arlecchino #Youtube

[horsesandhockeyplayers]

When Life Gives You Lemons- Part 13

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail.  These warnings are relevant to the whole fic, not just particular  chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 4677

Word Count Total: 58,279

Author’s Note: Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Reminder, that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I   will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV   change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. This part begins with  Clementine. THERE BE SMUT (kinda).

Part Thirteen*

When I woke, my heart was racing, Daze was planted on my chest with her head tucked under my chin, and Barbs was in a towel, soaking wet; standing over me. Absurdly, the first thing I noticed was how the droplets of water followed the trail of his chest hair down to his belly button.

I petted Daze and took a few deep breaths, focusing on the water dripping down Mark’s chest, the nightmare featuring Bill fading into the recesses in my mind where he would lurk until next time. 

When my heart rate approached a reasonable rate, the Border Collie lifted her head and licked my cheek. 

I was still focused on watching the water trail down Barbs’ body, and without thinking, I reached up to chase a droplet with my finger.

HIs brows disappeared into his hair, as he asked, “What the fuck, Lemon?”

My focus was still on that droplet and it took me a minute to realize that that wasn’t what he was asking about. My voice sounded like it was coming from a different room and when I put the pieces together, I responded, “Oh, I have night terrors,” like I was mentioning I bought the wrong milk and not a serious psychosomatic issue. 

His voice was stern, which pulled me out of my body-hair-water-droplet-related rapt state, when he said, “Clementine.”

Daze retreated to the other end of the couch and gave me a weary look. “I mean,” I started defensively, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I have night terrors. It’s not something I can control.”

He pushed away from the couch and ran his fingers through his dripping hair, looking sort of frantic. “Fuck,” he exhaled, “I thought you were dying. Do you have these every night?”

He was pacing, water was still dripping off of his body and, amongst other things, I was a little worried he was going to slip on the concrete floor. 

The more wound up he got, the tighter I felt the boa constrictor squeeze my chest. I knew that I was only going to get one chance to reason with him or explain myself before I felt like I was going to completely suffocate and it would become impossible to do so, so before I got there, I pleaded, “Mark.”

I don’t know what he saw, but his face closed down and he turned on his heel, walking down the hallway and muttering to himself, “Fucking night terrors.” The loud slam of the door made me jump, and Daze was trying to crawl in my lap, likely because she realized that I was all of a sudden overwhelmed by the feeling I needed to be anywhere else right the fuck now.

I pushed her off of my lap and made my way to the front entryway, snagging my tote on the way. My hand was reaching for the door when Mark came out of the bedroom, tucking himself into his jeans, calling “Lemon?”

My bare feet didn’t make a sound on the polished concrete floor as I walked toward the bank of elevators. Daze was trotting beside me trying to cross in front of my path and I started to dig in my bag for an extra leash; I usually had five on me. You know, just in case. 

I veered right at the elevators since I was still taking the stairs these days, which was when Mark caught up to me, a pair of my of shoes in one hand and his house keys in the other.

“Lemon, wait,” he implored. When I didn’t respond, he repeated, a little more forcefully, “Lemon, babe. Shoes.” How he managed to leap down a flight of stairs and skid out in front of me to block my passage, I don’t know; however, I will say that I wasn’t too wrapped up in my panic attack to prevent my noticing this feat of athleticism and subsequently file in away in my brain as something to appreciate at a later time and place. But now was not it.

Mark knelt down in front of me, laces on my shoes undone, and he slipped a little ankle sock on each foot. Honestly, the image was so ridiculous that it provided me with a moment of clarity just long enough for me to take a deep breath. I used his shoulder for balance as I put one shoe on, then the other. I could feel his body heat through the palm of my hand; his muscles were like granite, and he just felt so warm and solid in front of me. 

By the time he was done lacing both shoes, my panic attack had ratcheted down from a 7 to a 3 out of 10. My fingers were gently tracing random patterns into his shirt, allowing me to feel the intersections of muscles beneath his skin. Mark didn’t say anything as he remained kneeling in front of me, letting me have my moment or ten. Eventually, though, he stood and slid his arm through mine, pulling me in for a hug and setting my hand on his forearm so I could twirl his arm hair, much to my heart’s delight.

Things after that were a bit of blur and I don’t know how far we walked, but we ended up at a small park that was completely devoid of people. Taking Daze’s leash off, I started to dig in my purse and she knew whatever was coming out was going to be for her, so she started dancing on her front paws. I sat on a bench and handed the ball to Mark. He showed it to Daze, who let out an excited bark as he threw it.

He sat next to me, arm behind me on the bench, his voice almost light, as he murmured, “I didn’t know service dogs could play.”

I leaned into his body, suddenly tired even though I had just woken up. Between the night terror and the panic attack, I felt like I had run a marathon. “Dogs are like people,” I reminded him, “They’ll burn out if it’s all work all the time. They just need to be dogs sometimes.”

We sat in silence for a few more minutes before he spoke again. “You know,” he began, “even the most well-adjusted, intelligent man would struggle with this situation, right? And we both know I am neither of those things.”

“What situation would that be?” I asked, playing very dumb.

Mark didn’t pull any punches as, without hesitation, he responded, “Trying to date a woman who has survived some serious trauma and not without physical and mental scars.”

I was glad to hear that, if nothing else, he didn’t say ‘crazy person.’

Daze came back and dropped the ball at his feet; he picked it up and threw it again, wiping his hand on his jeans. “You’ve had a lot of time to get used to what happened to you, to learn how to make jokes about it, but this is all new to me.  I never think it’s your fault, I never think this is something wrong with you.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “You just need to give me a minute to fucking process some shit. Like, when I hear you scream like you’re being murdered on my couch while I’m in the shower, for example. I don’t think my heartbeat has ever been that fast and I am a professional athlete. And then you’re totally just chill, telling me you have Night Terrors like you’re informing me the Queen got another Corgi.”

I cleared my throat, vaguely uncomfortable, informing him, “Actually, the Queen isn’t actually breeding corgis anymore…”

His hand settled on the back of my neck and he squeezed lightly, as a tight smile crossed his face and he shook his head ruefully. “Lemon,” he chuckled, “that’s not the point.”

I halfway turned to face him, asking pointedly, “What is the point then, Barbs? That we’re both perfectly imperfect?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he clarified. “What I mean is that only one of us can freak out at a time, Lemon, and sometimes that person needs to be me. Like, when you casually drop the bomb that sometimes you wake up screaming, solely because some asshole traumatized you that much.” He looked at me and went on, “And it feels like I have about half a second to process that information and go through a range of emotions related to that. Today, for example, I went from thinking “putting that dude in a hole in the ground is too kind” all the way to “holy shit, what does this mean for my sleep on game days?” in about two seconds flat.” He gave the back of my neck another squeeze before he continued, “And sometimes I’m probably going to need to walk away to process. But I’m not walking away from you, ok?”

I nodded, understanding what he was telling me; as someone who had spent a good chunk of time overwhelmed by a variety of feelings, I didn’t have to imagine very hard what a situation like that felt like for Mark.  “I think that’s fair,” I acknowledged, meeting his eyes. I took a deep breath and continued slowly, “I’m just… surprised you’re willing to try at all.”

He pulled me into his body, whispering in my ear, “Of course I am. But we are going to have to figure something out regarding the shoe situation, because I can’t have you wandering around Denver in bare feet. It’s where I draw the line.”

“That is an acceptable request,” I said through a smile. “I will work on it.”

Daze brought the ball back and Mark threw it farther this time. Clearly upset it was so much farther away, she offered a hysterical bark as she tore after it. 

We sat in silence for a while, watching Daze take her time coming back with the ball; there was a quasi-pattern to her actions, but she tended to rotate between the following: dropping it to sniff an interesting smell, picking it up again, pausing to pee on a dandelion plant, sniffing said pee with the ball still in her mouth, sniffing said pee after dropping the ball, etc.

Meanwhile, I appreciated the fact we could sit in comfortable silence, especially because it gave me time to absorb what Mark had said. After I’d mulled things over, I was the one who finally broke it and asked, “So, what do we do now?” I wasn’t sure if I meant in a general existential way or in this “relationship” or with the afternoon ahead of us, but he didn’t ask me to specify.

He was running his hand down my hair, combing it between his fingers,  and with the amount of time that task was requiring, it seemed that taking a nap while it was still wet was a poor choice, and I was grateful I hadn’t yet seen a mirror. “I don’t know,” he replied, “I was thinking we could order in, but you didn’t exactly get a second date, so if you want to put on something nice, we could go out instead.”

“What?” I was very confused.

“Lemon, I know I’m the dumb one, but this isn’t really that complicated. You asked what we do now, do you want to eat in and bingewatch TV, or go out?”

I blinked, still not understanding. “You don’t want to take me back to my parents?”

His hand stilled on my hair, and I realized I had caught him off guard. “I mean, I can take you if you want to go,” he offered. “Do you want to leave?”

I shook my head.

“Then, I’m lost,” he told me.

“I mean, this has been kind of stupid,” I said, looking at him, feeling like it was a totally obvious assessment of the situation. As he looked back at me with that same look regarding our plans for the evening, I realized there was a huge disconnect somewhere and so, I continued, “Last night I slept for 15 hours. I was awake for like, two, during which you cooked me a meal, then I fell back asleep and after sleeping for however long again, I woke up and in doing so, I scared you half to death. I’m just surprised you aren’t itching to get rid of me.”

I yelped slightly as he dragged me into his lap and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes as he replied, “Lemon, were you not listening earlier?”

Frowning, I answered, “I was paying attention.” 

“Did you miss the part where I said I wasn’t going to walk away from you and none of this is your fault?” Mark asked.

“No,” I grumbled.

“Great. Then, do you want to order in or go out?”

I reached out to finger the silver chain peeking out of his tee shirt, as I offered, “Order in?”

He captured my chin with his fingers and angled my face toward his, confirming, “Order in, it is, then.”

The kiss was hard but brief, though during it, he managed to stand and gently set me on my feet all in one motion and I remembered that I needed to be in awe of his body. 

He cleared his throat and quirked an eyebrow at me as he wondered, “Why are you looking at me like you’re 3 days into going carb-free and I’m a fresh baked loaf of french bread?”

I did my best to school my face into a more neutral look, but he wasn’t buying it. I knew I wasn’t off the hook, but to give me some time, he whistled for Daze, who picked up her ball from the grass and came running. After clipping on her leash Mark tucked me into his side, asking again, “Lemon?”

I sighed, admitting “I just realized today I don’t think I was ever attracted to Bill, but I am very attracted to you.”

The smug practically radiated off of him and I knew I had to clarify, lest it go to his head. So, I continued, “But sometimes, I still want to dump a 1 billion degree McDonald’s coffee over your head, so there is still room for improvement.”

When he spoke it was under his breath and through his smirk as he singsonged, “You liiiiikkee me. You want to dddaaattttee me, you want to kiiiiissss me.”

“Calm your tits, Gracie Hart,” I said, rolling my eyes.

He pulled me impossibly closer, “Mmm I think we both know Sandra Bullock’s tits have nothing on yours and I mean, Sandy is hot.”

I had to concede there, allowing, “Sandra Bullock is hot.”

Mark grinned again and kissed my temple, saying, “My girl has good taste.”

I made a face but let him have the small victory. 

When we finally made it back to his apartment, my phone was vibrating on the coffee table and I grimaced, realizing I hadn’t checked in with Nora yet, save for a brief text this morning. I scrolled to the bottom of the text thread, which took me an embarrassingly long time, and unfortunately, they were still coming in.

Nora: I’m calling Columbo.

Nora: The national guard

Nora: Homeland security

Nora: The feds!

I shot off a response before the situation escalated further, though it did give me pause to consider who might be above the feds on Nora’s hierarchy of emergency contacts; maybe The Pope?

Hi! I’m here, I'm alive! 

Nora: Quick question: WHAT THE FUCK?

Nora: FIRST of all, you are at a cute boy’s house and you don’t text for awhile, ok, I get that. You have better things to do, but Clementine Jones, it has been almost 24 hours and all I got some bullshit brief shit this morning. SECOND OF ALL, take a picture of Mark, right now. Right this second. 

Mark was downing a glass of water and I zoomed in on him with my phone and snapped a picture before sending it to Nora. He lifted a brow and I just shook my head.

Nora: Why is he wearing clothes? Are you wearing clothes? I’m realizing now that maybe we need to have a conversation about the birds and the bees before I sent you off with The Italian Stallion and that’s on me. 

I rolled my eyes at her, even though she couldn't see me.

I have had many revelations over the past 24 hours and 1 of them is that I now know for certain I was never sexually attracted to Bill and the 2nd is I don’t own enough panties.

Nora: !!!!!!!!

Now, Barbs and I are ordering dinner. 

I turned my phone off and set it back down on the coffee table as I was joined on the couch by a tired Border Collie and a less tired Barbs.

“Was it Nora?”

I nodded and settled into the corner of the couch.

Mark snatched up my legs and hauled me down the length of the couch, putting my feet in his lap. He slipped off my shoes and socks, the very same ones he had put on earlier, and started rubbing my feet. I tried to pull them away as I whined, “Mark, stop.”

He stopped massaging, but didn’t release my feet, “What,” he asked, “why?”

“I don’t like it.” 

“Have you ever had your feet rubbed?” he prodded.

“I mean, yeah, like pedicures and stuff.”

“Well, did you like it then?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, suddenly aware of where this line of questioning was going, and it was a checkmate on the conversation. I relaxed back into the cushions grumbling, “Yes.”

“Ah, so you just don’t like ME rubbing your feet,” he teased.

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Why don’t you want me rubbing your feet, Lemon?” he continued, pushing on despite my reticence. “You actually fight me every time I try and do something nice.”

“To be fair,”  I said, defending myself, “a lot of this is touch related and I am a little gun shy.”

“Mmmhmmm,” he acknowledged.

He returned to rubbing my feet, and I did my best to relax. When he dug his thumbs into the bottoms of my arches, I may have moaned while my muscles turned to warm jello.

“That’s it, she’s finally relaxed,” he said, with more than a hin of smugness, but I really wanted him to continue doing what he was doing so I stayed silent. Of course, he couldn’t let that go without comment.

“Oh, wow,” he chirped, “No smartass remarks?”

I opened my eyes long enough to roll them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

She had these walls she didn’t even know she had about issues she didn’t know she had, and I really enjoyed taking a sledgehammer to them and getting a little closer to her with every swing. 

Finally, after that moan— which, honestly, had me hard in my jeans— she took a few deep breaths and I literally felt all the tension drain out of her body. 

I knew she wasn’t sleeping, because every so often, her foot would twitch when I hit a ticklish spot. 

“Hey, Lemon?” I prompted, “What do you want for dinner?”

She didn’t open her eyes to answer as she murmured, “Whatever you want, Barbs.”

“Pizza?”

She opened one eye and asked, “If you gorge yourself on pizza, are you going to be slow as fuck at camp on Monday?”

For the first time in my life, I didn’t have anything to say and I gaped at her.

Her smile was small and sly, but I caught it. “You little minx,” I spat, setting her feet back on the couch and levering over her, fitting my hips to hers. “Are you accusing me of being slow?”

“I’m just sayin’,” she intoned, “everyone looks good this summer and it would be a shame if you got sent down because you couldn’t hack it. I’d be forced to take pictures of Gabe… or worse! EJ!”

I kissed my way down her throat as I whispered against her skin, “You say that like you only take pictures of me.”

She squirmed under me as she admitted, “I have a secret folder on my computer that’s just you. I download the excess photos before I turn in the memory cards.”

I sat up a bit and braced myself on an arm above her, looking her in the eyes as I asked, “Seriously?”

She made a face I couldn’t decipher and nodded slowly. 

I don’t remember deciding to kiss her but I just suddenly was, my tongue against hers, trying to coax it off the bottom of her mouth. Her hands hesitantly slipped under the hem of my shirt, and I sat up again, pulling it over the back of my head with one hand.

She seemed to freeze as I did that, and pulled her fingers away. I missed her touch immediately and maybe it was a little selfish but with my free hand, I reached for both hers and replaced each on my body. When I settled back down to kiss her again, the cross around my neck settled in the hollow of her throat.

She removed her hands again, but this time pushed her fingers into my hair as she murmured, “I can’t get enough of your hair.” Finally, the hair gene paid off. 

Her fingertips massaged my skull and I dropped my cheek to her chest, giving a contented sigh. “If you never stopped doing that and I could lay on top of you forever, I might just die a happy man,” I informed her.

She finger combed my hair, nails scraping against my scalp and suddenly the intimate idea of a relationship didn’t sound awful. I currently ONLY wanted to fuck Clementine ANYWAY and if this intimacy and this closeness was a bonus, I suddenly understood all the guys on my team with wives and long-time girlfriends. These were moments that just didn’t come from a one night stand or a hookup. These impromptu moments of intimacy filled a part of me I didn’t realize was empty. 

And just as suddenly, I realized Tine was the only woman I could picture myself with like this, just laying here, while she ran her fingers through my hair, close, intimate, with a weather ear on the golf tournament I had turned on. 

“Mark?” She asked, trailing her hands out of my hair and down my back.

“Hmm?” I resisted the urge to rub my beard scruff against her.

“Are you going to fall asleep?”

I smiled and shook my head against her chest, “Nuh uh.”

She was dragging her fingertips against my skin and I could feel the goosebumps chasing her fingers. “Then can you kiss me?” she asked softly.

I lifted my head and pressed my lips to hers, more than happy to oblige. This time, she was the one to deepen the kiss, her tongue licking across my lips. 

My moan may have sounded more like a growl as my tongue shoved hers out of the way and I kissed her hard. The moment I did, she backed off, almost seeming to freeze. I pulled my lips from hers, sensing her limits and asked “Too much?”

She nodded. I took a breath and slid my arms underneath her body flipping us so she was on top. “Okay,” I affirmed. “What if you drive?” I suggested.

Her knees settled on either side of my hips. I could feel her heat through my jeans and her leggings and I shot a little prayer toward the sky that I would be able to control myself and give her an experience she deserved. 

Tine rocked on my erection, adjusted her position and rocked her hips again, letting out a small gasp.

I folded my hands behind my head contentedly, and she placed her hands on my chest to change the angle. She looked down at me through the veil of her hair that fell over her shoulders. 

“Is this ok?” she asked

“Does it feel good for you?” I responded.

She nodded.

“Then it’s more than ok,” I said easily. 

Her hips rolled again and she bit her lip as she set a rhythm, grinding against me as she whimpered, “Fuck, Mark.”

She was fully clothed and still, it was quite possibly the hottest, most intimate thing I had ever experienced.

She adjusted her position again, her pace increasing and when it started to falter, I grabbed her hips and thrust up against her, holding her steady. As she shivered above me, I did it again. And again. And again. Finally, she threw her head back and her entire body shuddered; I watched as the tremors rolled through her and I was sure I’d never been harder in my life. When she pushed against my chest and tried to wiggle away from me, I stopped moving and she collapsed against my chest. From her place tucked under my chin, I heard her whisper, “Barbs?”

“Mm?” 

“What the fuck was that?” she wondered.

“An orgasm?”

“That’s an orgasm?” she asked in disbelief.

My next words escaped before I thought about them, because all the blood to run my brain was currently in my dick and the affection gripping my heart was almost overwhelming, meaning I was basically fucked. “Babe,” I blurted out, “I watched you have an orgasm in the shower.”

She sat up and looked at me, her face inscrutable. “You watched me?” she echoed.

I grimaced and nodded, elaborating, “I knocked and called your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

“Ok, gross invasion of privacy aside, even that didn’t feel like this.”

“Baby, I don’t know what to tell you. That was an orgasm.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed, sounding a little awestruck.

I pushed the hair away from her face, wanting to check on her, because I figured this was A Lot. “Are you ok?” 

She nodded, smiling as she said, “An entire genre of books and television suddenly make sense.”

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her to my chest. Eventually, her breathing evened out and I was almost certain she fell asleep. I squirmed and tried to snake a hand between our bodies to adjust myself.

“Am I too heavy?” she mumbled.

“No, babe, just… too sexy.”

She snorted into my chest as she rejected this answer, informing me, “You’re such a liar.”

“Lemon,” I sighed, “when you wore that dress did you not look in the mirror?”

“Ok,” she narrowed her eyes at me, skeptical “but I don’t exactly look like every other hockey guy’s girlfriend.”

“But you’re not every hockey guy’s girlfriend,” I retorted, “you’re MY girlfriend.”

She turned her head, our eyes mere inches apart, as she questioned, “Am I your girlfriend? Are you going to put a label on me?”

I pushed her hair out of her face again so I could look at her as I confirmed, “Yeah. I’m gonna put a label on you. So I hope you’re okay with that. And plus, maybe that’ll help keep Comph and Josty’s ass-ogling at bay.”

The smile on her face was faint, but it was there, “They do not do that,” she dismissed.

“You have no idea,” I said earnestly, “I had to threaten all of them.”

“When?” she pressed. 

“When what?”

“When did you have to threaten them?”

I twirled the ends of her hair, brushing it against my beard and pretended I didn’t hear her.

“Barbs, when?” she pestered.

I cleared my throat and mumbled without making eye contact, “thedayicaughtyouinmyarms.”

She turned her head toward me and chirped, “Excuse me, I didn’t catch that.”

I captured her lips with mine for a soft kiss before I pulled back and smirked, “I said, the day I caught you in my arms.”

Her face was soft as she recalled, “Barbs, that was the first day you met me.”

“Nothing wrong with your memory, Lemon.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

#Mark Barberio #mark barberio imagine #mark barberio fic #mark barberio rpf #Colorado Avalanche #Colorado Avs #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche rpf #avs #Avs fic #avs imagine #avs rpf #lausanne hc #nhl fic #nhl fiction #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #hockey romance

[spine-buster]

That Which We Are, We Are | Nathan MacKinnon | Chapter 5

gif credit @/happer08

A/N: 7000+ words of...well...

Sorcha had texted the address to the coffee shop to Nate earlier that morning, and now, in a turn of events, she was waiting for him instead of the other way around. She only had to go into work in the afternoon today anyway, so she decided to take advantage of her free time in the morning. She’d already ordered a cappuccino and an almond croissant as she kept glancing towards the door, waiting for him to come in.

Only about five minutes later, she watched as Nate slipped into the café wearing a baseball hat and workout gear. With one quick look up, he spotted her at a table against the red brick wall and moved quickly, not needing to be waved down. “Hey,” she greeted him as he slipped into the chair opposite her. “Thanks for meeting with me. I really appreciate it.”

“There’s no way we could have left it where we did,” Nate said. “I’m such a fucking dick. I’m sorry for yelling at you outside your work.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you outside my work,” Sorcha added. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t more…you know, forthcoming with why I didn’t want to go to your house. It’s just—”

“—Don’t apologize, I should have known,” Nate said. “Not only am I a dick, I’m an idiot too.”

“You’re really not,” Sorcha shook her head, clasping her hands together on the table. She stayed silent for a moment, trying to find the words to say what she wanted to say to Nate. “It’s just really, um, hard for me, Nate…because I know they’re your friends, but I also know that I have to set boundaries,” she explained, her words coming out slowly – though that only increased their impact. “Kehoe I don’t mind – all he did was dote on you all your life, and he was kind of like you in the way that he never actually said anything, but laughed along with everything. Lucas is sort of the same, I guess. But Noah and, of course, Shane…I don’t want to be around them, Nate. I just don’t.”

“I get it. I—don’t worry, I get it,” Nate said. “It took me so long to realize why you said no, and it was a huge mistake on my part. I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. God, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“It’s not even about me being uncomfortable. It’s about the years of rage I have pent up inside me,” Sorcha explained, smiling slightly at the end. “I don’t know what I’d do or say if I was in the same room as them, but I know it wouldn’t be pretty. I guess I kind of wanted to save you from that, too.”

Nate shook his head. “You don’t have to. They deserve everything that’d come their way,” he said through gritted teeth, clasping his own hands together on the table, dangerously close to Sorcha’s. “I only really talk to Kehoe and Lucas, you know. The others just hang around in the summer when they know I’m home. It’s not like they reach out much when I’m out in Colorado.”

Sorcha furrowed her brows. “Then why are you even friends with them anymore?” she asked. Nate shrugged his shoulders. “I—okay, never mind, that’s none of my business. Can we just—”

“—Can I say one more thing?” Nate interrupted.

“Of course.”

He looked her in the eye. “I meant what I said on the phone. About how all I could think about was you that night. How I missed you. How I want to spend time with you.”

There were those words again. A shiver ran up Sorcha’s spine upon hearing them again. She had tried so hard to reject them that night, until she finally came to the conclusion that she deserved to hear them – and deserved to hear them from someone like Nate. Someone who she enjoyed the company of, had gotten to know better, and thought about more often than she liked to admit. “I know you did,” she said, her voice low. “I—please Nate, can we just—can we apologize and move on? Can we pick up from where we were?”

“I want nothing more than that,” he nodded. “I’m sorry, Sorcha.”

“I’m sorry, Nathan.”

They looked each other in the eyes and smiled, almost bashfully, as the words hung in the air between them. Of course, clear communication had resolved the fight they’d had, which began due to a lack of communication. Sorcha internally vowed never to do that to Nate again. Nate internally vowed never to lose his temper around Sorcha again. “What are you doing th—”

“—Excuse me,” a voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. A man who looked like he was in his late thirties, dressed in jeans, a polo shirt, and a baseball cap approached their table apprehensively. Sorcha watched as his eyebrows raise as he rested his eyes on Nate. “I’m very sorry to interrupt, but are you Nathan MacKinnon?”

Sorcha’s breath hitched in her throat. She hoped to God this wouldn’t happen when out with Nate, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. It just so happened that it had to come after one of their more intense and emotionally charged conversations. “That’s me,” Nate nodded, putting on a smile.

“I’m sorry to bother you and your friend, but my kid is just outside with his mom and he adores you. Do you mind if I call him in?” the man asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Nate agreed. The man thanked him profusely before power-walking towards the door of the café. Sorcha watched as he called out to his son, and he re-entered the café holding his son’s hand. “Hey buddy,” Nate said gently when they were close enough.

When the little boy realized who Nate was, his eyes were wider than the sun beaming outside. “Nathan MacKinnon?!” he gasped.

“How are you?”

“I’m g—I—I’m your biggest fan!” the boy exclaimed, still awe-struck. “I play hockey just like you and I want to play just like you and Sidney Crosby!”

“Well let’s hope you play more like Sid and less like me,” Nate joked, causing the dad to laugh. “How old are you, buddy?”

“I’m eight.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Oliver!”

“Can Oliver get a picture with you?” the dad asked, piping in for his son. Nate agreed – of course – and Oliver jumped in. Before he got his phone out of his pocket, the dad eyed Sorcha, who was looking on quite amused by the situation. “Sorry,” he offered.

“It’s no problem at all,” she was gracious. If it had been the dad asking for a picture and autograph in the middle of their conversation, it would be one thing, but this was about a kid meeting his idol. The dad snapped a few pictures before telling Oliver to thank Nate for his time.

“I hope you win the Stanley Cup this year, Nathan MacKinnon,” Oliver said. “I hope you win and I hope you bring it back here so we can all have a parade.”

Sorcha eyed Nate discreetly. She knew that, at his core, he was still torn up about not winning it this year. “Thanks buddy,” Nate replied, giving the boy a smile. “Have fun playing hockey. Maybe you’ll be the next superstar from Cole Harbour.”

Oliver and his dad left after a plethora of thank yous. Nate focused his attention back on Sorcha, breathing out for the first time since the interaction. “That was nice of you,” she said.

Nate shrugged off the comment. “What I did wasn’t nice. It’s what anybody would do.”

“I sometimes forget how much people idolize you,” Sorcha said. Despite hearing his name on the news all the time, to be hit with his influence right in the face was completely different. “You mean a lot to that kid. You probably made his childhood.”

“Do I mean a lot to you?” Nate asked suddenly.

The question took Sorcha off-guard. She wasn’t prepared for it, and didn’t know how to respond. The one thing she did know was that she had to tell the truth. There was no use in lying, or masking the truth to appear as if she wasn’t vulnerable, or that them getting closer these past few weeks meant nothing to her. “You’re getting there, I think,” she replied.

Nate nodded slightly. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Nothing that I’m aware of.”

“Wanna come over mine? Just us, alone?” Nate asked.

Sorcha couldn’t help the bashful smile that took over her face yet again. He was relentless. He just couldn’t give up. At the same time, she was willing to give in. Because she deserved it. She deserved good things. And this was a good thing. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

***

It was Wednesday night when Victoria sent Sorcha – who was curled up with Juno on her couch watching re-runs of Schitt’s Creek – a post on Instagram followed by a text:

SPOTTED: Superstar curator, acclaimed East Coast artist, and all-around amazing human being Sorcha Saint-Coeur seen in the background of a photo with some apparently famous guy named Nathan MacKinnon who kids want to take pictures with. xoxo, Gossip Girl

Sorcha chuckled slightly, opening the post Victoria sent. It was from the other day, when she and Nate had met up at the coffee shop to apologize to each other and a father and son had approached Nate for a picture. Sorcha was caught in the background of the photo – smiling, thankfully, and looking at Nate and the kid taking the picture. Sorcha noticed Nate was tagged in the picture, but that it wasn’t from the dad’s account. Instead, the NHL’s official Instagram account had re-posted it, with the caption “When in Halifax!” Sorcha 100% believed they couldn’t come up with anything more creative. With over 190 comments, she became curious. What could possibly be so interesting that it warranted almost 200 comments? She clicked on the caption.

@_alexandrajones: new gf?

@thompsondavis14: no way lol must be a sister or a cousin

@daisydee: girl in the back nate’s new girl?

@terry55: a hockey player would never date a non-blonde

@jennyyy497: tumblr bout to find out that girl’s blood type

@5356annie: for real. new gf?

@marinalove: no way in hell that’s natemac’s gf

@johnnyg: it’s very obviously an old friend or cousin

What made it so fucking obvious? Sorcha huffed reading the last comment, and it took everything within her not to hit the reply button and type out ‘actually, we fucked last night’ on the thread of responses, just to fuck with everybody. But she knew she didn’t need to because she had nothing to prove. She didn’t need to because nobody needed to know who she was, what her role in Nate’s life was, or any of her business for that matter. It was better (and safer) to remain completely anonymous and let people speculate whatever they were going to speculate.

@avsfan92: friend or girlfriend in the back?

@jessyjohnston: obvious friend

@erikjohnsonfanclub: cute kid, but the girl in the back?

@tamasingryfe: friend? cousin? dentist? anybody but gf, clearly

Sorcha’s eyes rolled so hard she was afraid they’d get stuck. What was it about people that made them think the hockey player would never be with someone with her body, and not the other way around? Were people still so backward, so stupid? Instead, she swiped out of the comments and post, back to the conversation with Victoria.

sorchasaintcoeur: I think that should be his superhero nickname sorchasaintcoeur: Apparently Famous Guy™

Sorcha locked her phone and snuggled more into Juno, ignoring any thoughts about the comments she’d read just seconds earlier.

***

Nate couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face when he saw Sorcha exit her apartment with an overnight bag and Juno on a leash. He’d been leaning against the side of his Range Rover waiting for her after he’d called to say he was there to pick her up. Earlier that day, while she was at work, he’d gotten groceries, two bottles of wine (though he knew he had a bunch at his house), and craft beer from a local brewery and put it in the backseat. Sorcha was wearing a summer dress and sneakers, having changed out of her work clothes. She kept her hair long and curly, just how he liked it, although he knew she wasn’t dressing for anybody except herself. “This must be Juno,” he said, pushing himself off his Range Rover.

“Of course you acknowledge my dog first,” Sorcha joked. “I don’t blame you though, she’s kind of a babe.”

“Hello Juno,” Nate put on his dog-voice as Juno approached him, Sorcha letting the leash elongate enough so Juno could smell his outstretched hand. Once she finished with his hand, she moved on to his knees, and shins, and feet, sniffing furiously all over his legs. “Do you smell Cox on me? You’re going to meet him very soon. He’s a bit of a hunk.”

“Oh geeze,” Sorcha rolled her eyes playfully. “Sorry to break it to you, but no dog is as beautiful as my Juno.” Instead of respond, she watched as Nate outstretched his hand once more; in turn, Juno began to lick it, signalling her approval of this new figure. Nate eventually opened the trunk so Juno could get into the tailgate, and Sorcha made sure to put her overnight bag in the backseat next to the groceries.

As Sorcha slipped into the passenger’s seat, Nate turned on the ignition. She noticed a USB cord. “What are we listening to?” she asked.

“Surprise me,” Nate said, handing her the cord. “Just no country music.”

Sorcha arched her brow. “Do you honestly take me as the country music type? I lived in Florence for God’s sake.”

“No,” he snorted. He loved how she used living in Florence as a justification for not being into country music. “Just a warning, that’s all.”

Nate put the car in drive and signalled to join the road. Sorcha was scrolling intently through her phone, with a definite purpose. Finally deciding on a song, she tapped her screen and made sure the volume was up. The beginning sounds of “Compton” by Kendrick Lamar filled the car, and Nate’s jaw dropped. “Kendr—Com—Sorsh, you’re into hip hop?!” he was shocked.

“Uh, yeah,” she was confused by his reaction, although she had an inkling she knew what his reaction was all about. “I love hip hop. I’ve been listening to it forever. Do you—you’re into it too?”

“Yes! I love hip hop! It’s practically all I listen to!” he exclaimed. God, first they had the German shepherds in common, and now this? Nate couldn’t believe it. “You’re telling me that the entire time you had your headphones in during high school, you were—”

“—I was listening to hip hop, yeah,” she finished the sentence, blushing, chuckling, not believing this was happening at all. “Kid Cudi, Drake, ASAP Rocky, Kendrick, plus a bunch of the older stuff – Eminem, Nas, Jay-Z, early Kanye, Tupac, Biggie, Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre…”

“How did I not know this?!” Nathan exclaimed, flabbergasted at the discovery. “How is it that all this time we were into the same music and I never knew?”

“You never asked, Nate,” her answer was simple, but honest.

They were both quiet, the impact of Sorcha’s words weighing on them slowly but surely. He didn’t know because he never asked, because he had better things to do, like play hockey and hang out with his friends who called her ‘Sorcha the Orca’ and laugh at all the rumours they spread about her. He didn’t know because he was caught up in his social circle and being a teenage boy, and it was extremely rare – almost a miracle – if a teenage boy ever thought that someone beyond their social circle could have similar interests. He didn’t know because he never took the time to actually get to know her until now.

“I guess I didn’t, huh?” he asked, ashamed, like so much else to do with Sorcha and their past.

“At least we know about it now,” Sorcha offered, not wanting to see guilt in his face or hear it in his voice. “Does this mean I can control the music the entire way up to your place?” she tried to lighten the mood.

“It does,” Nate smiled, making sure to signal his merge onto the highway. “This also means I get to ask you so many questions.”

They couldn’t shut up about hip hop music for the entire car ride. They asked each other about their favourite albums, fought over whether College Dropout or Late Registration was Kanye’s best, discussed the age-old question of Tupac versus Biggie, and so much more. It was clear to both of them just how much they missed of each other growing up being closer to sworn enemies than friends from not speaking. What could have been if they knew this – and more – about each other when they were 12? 13? 14? How would the trajectories of their lives have changed? What kind of relationship would they have today? Though they both tried not to focus on the ‘what ifs’ and focus on the now – being in the car together driving up to Nate’s house – they both couldn’t help but linger on the thought.

When they arrived at Nate’s driveway, he opened the gate using his special remote and waited for it to open. There were butterflies in his stomach now, though he didn’t know why. “Where’s Sid’s house?” Sorcha asked.

“The lot to the right,” he said, pointing amongst trees. “I don’t know if he’s in town, though.”

“Well it’s not like I want to visit him.”

Nate chuckled. “And what if he just popped over for a visit unannounced?”

“Does he do that?”

“He does. A lot.”

“Then you might have to perform CPR on me, because I’d die.”

Nate laughed out loud, driving his car along the driveway towards his house, which was set back further into the lot, near the lake. “I was never trained in CPR – think I might have to call an ambulance.”

“God, they’ll never get here in time. At least I’d die knowing Sidney Crosby knows that I exist.”

Nate desperately wanted to say ‘He already does, don’t worry’, but decided against it. Too much could have been opened up with that simple sentence. Instead, he waited as his house came into view, the trees surrounding it swaying slightly in the wind, the perfectly manicured lawn glistening. “Here it is,” he said.

Sorcha had been watching the entire time. She tried to make it so that her jaw didn’t drop upon seeing the house, but she was so overwhelmed with the sheer size and beauty of it that she was sure her jaw did drop. “Holy cow, Nathan,” she whispered. “What a beautiful home. Tim Horton’s must be paying you a lot of money for those commercials.”

He snorted, parking his car outside of the coach house. “Come on, get your stuff. It’s even better inside. And Juno can meet Cox, finally.”

Nate went to get Cox first, and after a great initial meeting between the dogs, he got the groceries out of the car while Sorcha grabbed her overnight bag and portable crate. Walking into the house, she was amazed at the simple yet beautiful interior. After setting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and setting up the portable crate next to Cox’s, Nate gave her a tour of the house: the formal living and dining rooms, which he barely used and were only really there to collect dust; the huge eat-in kitchen that had massive accordion patio doors out to the deck that overlooked Shubenacadie Grand Lake; the office, which the architect planned for the house, even though Nate didn’t particularly need an office; the five bedrooms upstairs, including the guest space Sorcha was staying in, and his master bedroom with its own balcony overlooking the trees and the lake; and finally to the basement games room, entertainment room with bar, and the massive gym with floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened to the outdoors.

To say Sorcha was impressed was an understatement. The house was so tastefully done, and though it was large, it was still homey – it didn’t feel like a show home or one of those houses where she was scared to sit on the furniture. After seeing it all, she concluded that it was all very Nathan more than anything: big, but unpretentious. “Your house is beautiful, Nate,” Sorcha said quietly, as they stood in his gym looking out the glass doors onto the lake. She could feel him look over at her so she looked over at him. “I know—I know it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I mean that sincerely. This is a beautiful house.”

“It actually does mean something coming from you, so thank you,” he said, nodding once, noting the sincerity in her voice. “It was mostly the architect and interior designer. And, you know, input from my parents and stuff. But thanks.”

“You’ve built quite the life for yourself,” Sorcha continued. “It’s great to see. I never thought I’d say that, but it is.”

Nate couldn’t help but smile. Oh, how times had changed. Just a few weeks ago, he’d never thought he’d hear those words come out of Sorcha’s mouth. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever see her again. She had virtually completely slipped from his memory. And now here she was, in his house, the way he wanted it to be right now. “C’mon…let’s go back upstairs and get started on dinner.”

They went upstairs, Juno and Cox following behind them, and began taking everything out of the grocery bags. Sorcha had sent him a list of everything she needed to make the side dishes that night, whereas Nate was responsible for the protein. Nate took the two bottles of wine out of the bag last and held them up. “Shall we begin?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Sorcha smiled, watching as Nate opened a cupboard and reached for wine glasses. “Do you have speakers in here? I can connect my phone and make a playlist.”

“God yeah, it’s on Bluetooth,” he informed her. He watched her take out her phone before he eyed all the ingredients set out on the counter. “So what exactly are you making here?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled, not even bothering to look up from her phone.

He chuckled slightly. “Come on. What is it?”

It was only then that she eyed him. “Oh my God, are you one of those Tom Brady types who doesn’t eat, like, iodized salt and nightshade vegetables?” she asked.

“No!” he got defensive. “Not at all!”

“Oh my God you are, aren’t you?!” she exclaimed.

“No I’m not! I’m just genuinely curious!” he tried to cover.

She eyed him skeptically. “I’m making an orzo salad and then some panzanella.”

“Panza-what?”

“Panzanella. It’s a traditional Italian dish from Florence. It’s why I asked you to get the stale, on sale bread instead of the fresh one.”

Nate smiled. “You gonna cook me some Italian food, Sorsh?” he winked playfully.

“Don’t push it,” she said, though her heart couldn’t help but flutter slightly at the wink. Nate finally uncorked the bottle of wine and poured some into the glasses, sliding one across the counter towards her. She took it in her hands, looking Nate in the eye. God, they were so blue. “What are we toasting to?” she asked.

“To alone time,” he said, raising his glass slightly.

Sorcha smiled. He was going there. He was really going there. And she was going there too. “To alone time,” she clinked their glasses together delicately before taking a sip of the wine. “Oh, that’s delicious.”

He smiled, too. “Start the music. I’ll start marinating the chicken.”

They worked in harmony around the kitchen, with Nate marinating the protein simply with olive oil, salt, pepper, and parsley, and with Sorcha boiling the orzo and chopping all the necessary vegetables to go in the pasta salad and panzanella. Nate watched as she chopped and prepped everything expertly, rapping along to the music as she did so. He’d join in, too, and they’d look up and smile and giggle at each other. When he started the charcoal barbeque, he set the table outside. Soon, Sorcha came outside with her orzo salad and panzanella dishes, even handing Nate his wine glass. Before he knew it, he was sitting down with Sorcha across from him, perfectly grilled chicken thighs, orzo salad, and panzanella adorning his plate.

The music was lowered and made for some great background noise as Nate and Sorcha ate their dinner and carried on their conversation while the sun set over the lake. While they still talked about rap music, they also moved on to other subjects, and just like the drive up, they couldn’t keep quiet. Between the good food, the good wine, and the silence surrounding them from the lake, Sorcha had to admit this was one of the loveliest dinners she’d had since living in Florence. For Nate, who was enjoying the company more than anything, it was definitely the loveliest dinner he’d had in a while, too. He made sure to eat slowly, and pour himself and Sorcha a second and third glass of wine, just so it could all last longer. And when they finished the first bottle, Nate wasted no time opening the second.

“Hey Nate?”

“Hmm?”

“D’you remember…God, this is so stupid—”

“—Tell me.”

Sorcha took a deep breath. This was probably the alcohol talking, but she needed to let it out. “D’you remember one of first dinners – the one where we just ate Sober Island oysters all night?”

“Yeah…”

“Remember how I said after high school, I made the choice to embrace people who loved me and didn’t judge me, and take every opportunity that came my way so I could live the life I wanted to?

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Well, I’m happy I made the choice to come here with you,” she admitted out loud. “I—I’m happy to be spending this time with you, alone up here with no-one around. And I feel—I feel I can be myself around you, when I wasn’t able to when we were growing up. I think that’s the biggest thing. You know the real me now, just like how I know the real you and not the guy I see on TV all the time.”

Nate couldn’t help the smile that took over his face as she said those words. She was standing near him, countless glasses of wine deep and saying those words to him, and all he could feel were butterflies in his stomach. “I think it help that you’ve been getting the real me from the beginning,” he said. “I never pretended to be someone I wasn’t. Just like you.”

“It did help,” she nodded her head. “I mean, it got us here.”

By the time the food was finished, the both of them were, well…tipsy. With two bottles of wine split between them, they were in a giggly mood, and so playful with one another. With the third open and on route to being poured, any semblance of nervousness, apprehension, or timidity about spending time alone together at Nate’s house was completely gone. “I’m gonna play some more music,” Sorcha smiled as she picked up her phone while Nate loaded the dishwasher, seeing a couple of missed notifications from Victoria on her lock screen before swiping and going into Spotify. She clicked on the first thing she saw – “King Kunta” by Kendrick Lamar – before pressing the shuffle button.

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh noooooooooo!!!” Nate exclaimed, covering his face with his hands as he blushed from embarrassment. “Why would you do this to me?! Why?!”

Sorcha furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“This song! This song is gonna haunt me forever!”

“Nate, what the fuck are you talking about?!”

His eyes got a bit dewy as he looked at her. “You—you haven’t seen the video?”

“What video?”

With his critical thinking capacities affected by the alcohol (and the fact that it didn’t look like they were going to stop drinking any time soon), Nate pulled out his phone instead of letting the whole thing slide. He swiped through his videos folder before shoving his phone at her. The infamous video from the 2015 World Championships played, much to Sorcha’s astonishment. She started laughing uncontrollably at his stupid dancing, the hand motions, the beer drinking, and the stupid smile on his face. He was so proud of his dance moves. “Oh my God, Nathan.” She watched him shimmy back and forth with his stupid face, half of the team watching and filming him. “Oh my Gooood, Nathan!”

“We had just won the gold medal!” he exclaimed, as if that explained it all. “Give me a break!”

“What is…what is this?!” she asked, mimicking part of the dance moves. “What is that?!”

“Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!” Nate was crushed.

“You are a disaster,” she giggled out, shaking her head in amusement. She never thought she’d see him so embarrassed, even though it wasn’t really something to be embarrassed about. Everybody had stupid dance moves they went to – even her. “You’ve gotta teach me this dance, Nathan.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Yeah, you really do,” she said as she closed the dishwasher. The other dirty plates could wait until tomorrow. She grabbed her wine glass and took a gulp. “Come on. How do I shimmy like you?” she asked. “Like this? Eh, eh, eh, eh!” she mimicked the sounds he made in the video.

“Sorsh!”

“Show me, you goof!” she demanded. It took some egging on, but finally, finally, Nate danced with her, just as ridiculously as he’d done in the original video, and for the rest of the song they danced together to the funky beat, giggling at each other’s moves along the way. Sorcha ended up laughing so hard she had to stop, almost falling over before leaning herself over the counter as leverage. “You’re never going to live this down,” she managed to get out.

“Don’t I know it.”

“I’m gonna remind you about it every day for the rest of our lives.”

Nate couldn’t help but smile at the insinuation, at the thought that she’d be around for that long. “You promise?” he asked. He didn’t know if that was the alcohol talking or not.

“I promise.”

They both took another big gulp of wine. The song changed and Nate opened the fridge to grab yet another bottle of wine, as if he hadn’t just opened one. “I got smores in the cupboard too,” he said, a stupid drunken smile appearing on his face. “You want some?”

“Do you even have to ask with smores?” Sorcha shot back.

Nate grabbed the smores, holding them against his chest. Sorcha grabbed the wine bottle and replenished their glasses until the third bottle was empty. Two drunk idiots near a fire probably wasn’t the wisest choice, but they miraculously managed not to burn themselves once Nate turned the flame on. As the songs played and they assembled their smores with the fine motor skills of a two-year-old, Sorcha couldn’t stop giggling and staring at Nate like she was still a schoolgirl; for his part, Nate couldn’t stop staring as Sorcha either, mentally kicking himself for ever having doubted how great of a person she was and how it took him so long to realize they were so alike. He would never be able to recover the lost time, but he certainly wanted to make up for it. Despite the darkness around them, both Sorcha and Nate felt nothing but light in them. The night was going as perfectly as either could have hoped. They danced their stupid dance moves, rapped along with the songs, drank the rest of their wine, and had chocolate and marshmallow all over their mouths by the time they were done.

It was only when ‘Smile Like You Mean It’ by The Killers came on that Nate paused and looked at her weird. “This isn’t hip-hop,” he chastised.

“God Nate, I don’t listen to only hip-hop,” Sorcha rolled her eyes. “I love other music too.”

“Like who?”

“Them,” she raised her wine glass up to signify The Killers, before taking a huge gulp. As Nate turned off the flame for the fire pit, she listed more bands. “Mumford and Sons, Sam Fender, Arkells, Springsteen—”

“—My parents love Springsteen—”

“—They have great taste,” she smiled. “Maggie Rogers, The Lumineers,…oooh! And I’ve been loving Leon Bridges.”

Nate watched her as she listed the names of the artists she loved, as she bobbed her head along to the song as she did so, and how, in between saying names and right after she was done, she sang along with the lyrics. He took a huge gulp of wine before deciding half way through to just finish off the glass. “Have you looked up yet?” he asked her, trying to distract himself and the feelings that were creeping up in his chest.

“Why?”

“To see the stars,” he said. “We’re out of Halifax. No light pollution.”

Sorcha looked up, and when she did, he watched as her jaw dropped. “Ho-ly shit! Look at all those stars!” she exclaimed.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“You get this all the time while you’re here?”

“When the sky’s clear, yeah,” he said. “The house sort of blocks behind us, but on the balcony outside my bedroom—”

“—take me to the balcony,” Sorcha demanded. “Oh my Goooddd! Take me!”

She almost left without him, grabbing the fourth bottle of wine and her phone from the counter as they hurried through the house. When they stepped out into his balcony, Sorcha dramatically whipped her head up again, seeing even more stars than before. “Wooooowwww,” she was rendered speechless at what she was witness to. “I can’t believe how clear it is! How many there are!”

“Told you,” Nate smiled.

They stayed silent as Sorcha kept her head up and admired the sky above. She’d never really seen it so clear before, and so populated with stars. It was so beautiful to her, and something she knew she would want to see over and over again. How could she not? For a girl who grew up and lived in cities her entire life, stars so bright in the night sky could be so magical.

Nate had taken the wine bottle from her and replenished both their glasses – sloppily. He definitely spilled some. “Hey Sorsh?”

“Hmm?”

“Show me your favourite Leon Bridges song.”

Sorcha bit her bottom lip to keep the grin off her face. She scrolled quickly through her phone and took another big swig of wine before tapping. There was silence before beautiful, simple guitar chords began to play peacefully, with nothing else accompanying them. Nate watched as Sorcha swayed with them, closing her eyes and mouthing along to the lyrics sung by one of the most soulful voices Nate had ever heard.

Been travelling these wide roads for so long My heart’s been far from you, ten thousand miles gone Oh, I wanna come near and give ya every part of me But there’s blood on my hands, and my lips aren’t clean In my darkness I remember Momma's words reoccur to me "Surrender to the good Lord and he'll wipe your slate clean" Take me to your river, I wanna go Oh, go, take me to your river, I wanna know Dip me in your smooth water, as I go in As a man with many crimes, come up for air As my sins flow down the Jordan Oh, I wanna come near and give you every part of me But there's blood on my hands, and my lips are unclean

Nate couldn’t handle it anymore. He took a few steps forward then, as Sorcha opened her eyes to look at him. The presence of his body in such close proximity to hers felt so good, so nice. She liked it so much. So much. Was that the alcohol talking? He wrapped his arm around her waist, looked down at her, and in one swift movement without hesitation, he kissed her.

Like, kissed her. Not a little peck. Not something innocent. A full-blown kiss – open mouth, full force, tongue grazing her bottom lip already desperate for entry.

Sorcha kissed back just as hard. Not shocked. Not scared. Fully wanting it. Fully wanting to give it, too. Maybe all the wine gave her the boost she needed.

Nate had wanted to kiss her since he saw her come out of her place, and she not much longer after that. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, sticking her tongue down his throat with him reciprocating shortly after. They stumbled a bit until they backed into the railing, but didn’t take their lips off each other. Sorcha could feel Nate’s big hands grab on to her hips and the material of her dress, squeezing at her flesh there before moving his hands to grope her ass over her sundress, causing her to gasp out. Before either of them could say anything or pause, their lips were desperate to be reattached. Their kisses were sloppy and felt almost manic due to the pent-up energy they both had in them from wanting this for so long.

In the briefest second that their lips were parted once more, Sorcha was able to whisper something she never thought she’d whisper to Nathan MacKinnon. “Take me to bed.”

Nate got excited. They moved from the balcony back inside to his bedroom with their lips not leaving one another’s until he sat down on his bed and pulled her on top of his lap. Her sundress rode up her thighs as she did so, exposing them and allowing Nate to squeeze at her flesh there too, eventually moving back to squeezing her ass underneath the fabric of her sundress. Eventually, his lips and tongue made their way down her neck, and his hands came up to pull down the straps of her dress. Groping her over the fabric, he kissed along the top of her breast then, with Sorcha tugging at his shirt and pulling it over his head before he kissed at her other breast. There was no room for words, no room for speaking, no room for much else besides kissing and groping and moaning.

Sorcha had been with other sexual partners before, but there was something about Nate’s body that drove her absolutely wild. It was so toned, but not overly muscular, and it was clear that he maintained it seriously but still made sure he had fun. Sitting on his thighs and grinding on them meant she could feel how thick they were. She could also feel how hard he was getting, and her body was hot from the intense passion they shared. She bunched up the material of her dress, and Nate helped get it over her head, leaving her in her bra and panties on top of him. Nate flipped them over quickly so she was laying on the bed and he was on top of her. She fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants but eventually got it, sliding them down. He took off her bra, and made sure to suck at her nipples quickly before sliding her panties down.

They kissed each other a few more times before Sorcha could feel Nate push inside of her. It felt incredible instantly for both. “Ooooh Jesus,” she let out, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she arched her back slightly. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Nate attacked her lips, pumping in and out of her. He let out a grunt at her words. “You feel incredible. This is incredible.”

They looked into each other’s eyes then, relishing in the feeling of their bodies connecting in a way they never thought plausible just a few short weeks ago. Sorcha thought she’d never see Nate again, and now she was under him in bed having some damn good sex. Nathan never thought he’d see Sorcha again either, and now he was fucking her in his bed after making the first move himself.

Their moaning got louder as Nate increased his pace, and he could feel himself getting closer with every thrust. Their pent-up energy meant that this wasn’t going to last long – there was no way it could with how much passion and alcohol that was between them. It was meant to start and end quickly but be a hell of a ride. “Can I come inside you?” he asked, the alcohol consumed slurring his speech.

Sorcha nodded. “Please.”

More sloppy kisses. More moans from her, and grunts from him, getting louder and louder. Nate could feel her walls tighten, and she let out a cry as she orgasmed. He came with her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, trying to catch his breath from how incredible it all felt. He gave her one last kiss before collapsing beside her in bed, the both of them trying to catch their breath.

Neither spoke. Neither said a single word. Instead, the alcohol caught up to them, as did the events of the day, and instead of realizing exactly what they’d just done, they drifted off to sleep.

***

Nate’s eyes fluttered open at the God forsaken hour of 6:30 the next morning. Before he could even really wake up or open his eyes, he could feel his head pounding. He’d have to get water. And Advil. Maybe he’d throw up at some point and feel better. Maybe he’d have to break open some Gatorade to recuperate. He’d have to get the same for Sorcha, and have them ready for her when she woke up: an extra strength Advil, a water bottle, and a blue Gatorade. Maybe she preferred red.

He rubbed his eyes for a good minute, and tried massaging his forehead to bring some sort of relief to his headache. He turned his head to the side Sorcha fell asleep on, expecting to see her naked body in bed, her curly hair against the white of the pillow, her beautiful face sleeping.

Except she wasn’t there.

That woke Nate up quickly. He furrowed his brows. Okay, maybe she had gotten sick during the night and ran to the washroom to throw up and just ended up sleeping on the floor. That had happened to him and a lot of his buddies before. So he got up out of bed slowly, with his head pounding, and walked over to his ensuite.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

Maybe she was back out on his balcony to admire the morning sunrise view. So he walked over to the doors that led to his balcony.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

Maybe she had switched rooms in the middle of the night to the original guest room she was supposed to be staying in. So he walked down the hallway, knocked on the door as a warning, an opened it slowly.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

Maybe she had already woken up and was looking for Advil, water, and Gatorade herself in his kitchen. He put on boxers and a t-shirt and made his way down the stairs, slowly, so he could greet her in his kitchen.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

Nate’s chest tightened. Maybe she was out on the deck, enjoying a morning coffee. He looked through the doors.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

Maybe she was down in the gym, since it had the walkout. He went down to his basement to check.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

Maybe she was out on the dock, sitting with Juno, admiring the beautiful view just as she’d done yesterday. He slipped on a pair of slides so he could walk outside and down towards his dock.

It was empty. She wasn’t there.

She was gone.

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon fan fic #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche fan fic #nathan mackinnon blurb #colorado avalanche blurb #avs #avs imagine #avs fic #avs fan fic #avs blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #that which we are we are series

[wyattjohnston]

you always did feel just like home - nathan mackinnon

summary: valorie hadn't meant to be away from nova scotia for so long, and she hadn't meant to immediately insert herself back into nate's life. mysterious how the universe works.

word count: 11,365

warning: not exactly healthy alcohol consumption

note: it is finally time for me to put my money where my mouth is and post my exchange fic instead of just bothering everybody else! this is written for the winter fic exchange 2k23 and i wrote it for cait (hey @blueskrugs that's you)! i hope you like it! thanks to @matthewtkachuk, @comphy-and-cozy @farbutnevergone & @laurenairay who have all provided feedback as this grew to be a lot longer than anticipated.

playlist: | looking back - parachute | wait - knuckle puck | longshot - catfish and the bottlemen | selfish - the kite string tangle | i'm in love with you - the 1975 |

Valorie hadn’t intended to be late and it meant that she was immediately the centre of attention when she walked into the café. She spotted the table of her friends that was discretely to the side and out of the way, though that discretion flew out the window when Amber and Valorie squealed as they saw each other.

They rushed to close the distance, throwing their arms around one another in a hug that only remained upright because Mike was standing close enough by to keep them that way. Valorie, after pulling away from Amber, greeted Mike with a more subdued but no less friendly hug.

Neither Mike nor Amber were who she’d noticed first, though, because the third person at the table was Nathan MacKinnon and he was a man who was impossible to miss.

Despite how much she wanted to step forward and greet him in the exact same way, Valorie wasn’t sure where the boundaries were, so she opted for saying, “I would have thought you’d be far too good to hang out with us lowly commoners.”

Nate smirked, looking as if he’d been expecting it, but it wasn’t him who spoke next.

“We haven’t seen you half as much as him in the last seven years,” Mike said, thumping his hand across Nate’s broad chest. Valorie was momentarily distracted by just how broad it was; those years had been very good to him.

Mike continued, “Dogg knows where he came from.”

“Yes, yes, I’m the worst,” Valorie said with an eyeroll as she pushed everyone back to their seats. Nate paused for long enough that Valorie greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Valorie sat opposite Nate, tucking her legs underneath her own chair to avoid accidentally entangling them with his—the length of his was a memory firmly engrained in her mind.

Immediately it became clear that the conversation was not going to trend towards the Cup like she’d been hoping. It was far and away the most exciting thing she could think of for any of them to talk about, but she supposed that everyone had had the same thought since Nate arrived back in Nova Scotia.

Instead, Amber lifted Valorie’s wrist to get a closer inspection of the bracelet she was wearing and the boys leant in, too.

“Got to keep the jewellery, I see,” Amber said, her voice slightly awed. Valorie couldn’t blame her.

“Everything but the car,” Valorie said. “It would have been useless up here anyway. Definitely not meant for winter tyres.”

“You should have kept it and flipped it,” Mike said, tapping against the table in thought. “An Audi, wasn’t it?”

“Porsche.”

Mike whistled low and impressed, Nate’s eyebrow twitched—Valorie almost missed it—and he leaned back in his seat. Valorie could only imagine what cars Nate was driving around Colorado or Nova Scotia. As nice as her Porsche was, she was sure it paled in comparison.

Valorie pulled back her hand, hiding it away under the table to stop Amber playing with it any longer.

“You still wear what he bought you?” Nate asked, his voice curiously tight as his eyes flicked between her face and where the bracelet was hidden under the table.

Valorie thought for a moment, cataloguing everything she had put on that morning. “I think everything I’m wearing was a gift from him. It wasn’t a bad break up; no bad memories associated with any of it.”

Until that moment, Valorie had been perfectly comfortable with the idea of it—her entire wardrobe had been bought by her ex so she didn’t have much choice anyway, but under Nate’s careful gaze every inch of fabric felt suffocatingly heavy.

“Why did you break up?” Amber asked. “It sounds perfect.”

“I wanted to come home,” Valorie answered simply, one shoulder rising in a shrug as she tried to casually avoid eye contact with her friends.

“He had enough money; you could have come home whenever you wanted.”

“What? You think I’ve been back, like, twice in seven years because that’s what I wanted?” Valorie asked, somewhat viciously, directing her words and the accompanying glare at Mike. “There was always someone to meet, something to do, somewhere to be and I couldn’t ever get away. I missed home.”

Mike, rightfully chastened, lowered himself down in his chair just enough to let Valorie know he regretted what he’d said. Nate and Amber were sitting in an awkward silence and Valorie had to speak just to move them along.

She continued, “And I was bored as hell. I was asked if I’d be interested in the Real Housewives of Miami reboot and if I stayed much longer I would have said yes just to have something to do.”

Amber’s laugh was raucous, eliciting the same from Valorie, and she said, “You’re too young to be on that show.”

“That’s most of the reason I said no!” Valorie shrieked, still laughing. “That and I was actually a housewife? The other women on that show have, like, careers and are important and aren’t just sitting at home complaining about doing yoga.”

“I’d watch a show that was you doing yoga.”

Three heads turned to Nate, all barking out surprised laughs at his deadpan voice accompanied by the casual expression that remained on his face—almost as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

Mike thumped Nate across the chest, as he’d done earlier, and said, “We all know you would, Nate.”

“That’s really it, though?” Nate pressed on, not even looking at Mike as he thumped him back, “You couldn’t come up with a schedule where you got to come home more?”

“It wasn’t going to work,” Valorie said firmly. Nate tilted his head but was kind enough to not press her any further.

Despite all the talk of Valorie living a lavish lifestyle, when it came to ordering food she was conservative with her money. She didn’t have a choice when that money was coming out of her own, not very large bank account. It didn’t matter in the end, because Nate quickly took over and promised that he’d pay after ordering a ludicrous amount of food all the while flicking his gaze to Valorie every few seconds.

After they’d finished eating—having spent so long that it was clear they were only being allowed to stay because they were with Nate—Mike and Amber hurried off before they were late to see Amber’s parents, leaving Nate and Valorie on the sidewalk out the front.

“Where are you living?” Nate asked, his keys twirling in his hands. “Do you want a ride?”

Valorie nodded, surprised but please, “Oh, yeah, thank you. I’m staying with my parents. They haven’t moved.”

He didn’t say anything as he started moving towards the parking lot behind the café. It hadn’t changed much since they were 16, slowly walking back to Nate’s second-hand truck after a date neither of them really wanted to end.

“You’re back with your parents?”

“I haven’t had a job in seven years, nobody will hire me, and nobody will let me lease a house without pay cheques so…”

“That’s rough.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. Nate’s face screwed up, so she added, “I still get on with my parents so it’s really fine.”

The Porsche Cayenne he led her to wasn’t so much a surprise, given the dealership that would have jumped at the chance to have one of their vehicles driven by Stanley Cup Champion Nathan MacKinnon—it was, however, a reminder of the 911 she’d left behind in Miami.

Of everything she’d left behind in Miami.

They were sitting in the Cayenne out the front of Valorie’s parents’ house, her hand on the door handle, when Nate said, “I’ve got room at my place if you want it.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Nate,” she smiled back at him, appreciative, “but I don’t have any money to pay rent.”

Valorie opened the door and looked back into the car when she was standing upright, to thank Nate for dropping her off.

“I don’t need rent from you.”

“Nate.”

“Just say the word, Val.”

Moving into one of Nate’s spare bedrooms was easier than Valorie had anticipated; Nate picked her up a few days after he dropped her at her parents’ home in Crichton Park, loaded some bags into the trunk and unloaded them into a bedroom with a lake front view in Grand Lake.

He’d declared that everything in the house was hers if she wanted it and raised a challenging eyebrow when she walked into the wine room and declared that she’d start with the most expensive bottle and work her way down—she knew exactly which one it was, too, even with a cursory glance at the bottles lining the walls.

“It’s probably not as nice where you lived in Miami,” Nate said as he finished the tour.

Valorie laughed, “The lovely Mediterranean Revival home that he gutted and turned into a Hypermodern nightmare so the inside and the outside clashed? The one that didn’t even have a view of the beach? I’ll miss a lot of things about Miami but that house is not one of them.”

“I didn’t know you cared about that stuff.”

“Architecture?” she clarified, waiting for Nate’s slow nod before she shrugged. “I had a lot of time to kill.”

Valorie spent most of that first day on the deck overlooking Grand Lake, it wasn’t quite warm enough for her to venture into the pool, but it was perfect to just sit and watch the water and the occasional jet-skier zip past.

Nate left her to her own devices for what might have been a few hours before he joined her and started asking questions about what she’d like for dinner so that he could head to the store.

“You gonna cook for me, Dogg?” Valorie asked, tilting her head over the back of the chair so that she could see Nate properly. “What if I want risotto?”

There was a brief moment where it looked like Nate’s brain short-circuited before he collected himself and said, “I can offer you steak or chicken breast. Salad or vegetables.”

“So many options,” Valorie said, a small laugh in her voice, as she pushed herself off the chair. “If you cook the steak, I’ll make the salad.”

“Sorry, there aren’t more options.”

“Two more than I’d be able to offer.”

The admission didn’t seem to surprise Nate, who just accepted what Valorie had said without question—Mike and Amber had surely passed on a few things about Valorie’s time in Miami and the chef she had was one of their favourite thing to bring up.

Valorie used Nate going to the store as an opportunity to wander through the house. It wasn’t as large as she was expecting, so it didn’t take very long at all—especially not when she avoided Nate’s bedroom out of respect for his privacy. She opened every cupboard in the kitchen, just to make sure she knew where everything was kept, and then unloaded the dishwasher when it beeped at her incessantly. In the fridge was an open bottle of sparkling red wine, so Valorie helped herself to a glass on the balcony while she waited for Nate to return.

The calmness of Nova Scotia was something Valorie had forgotten she’d missed until she was back; even in the height of summer, with the excitement of the Cup coming back, she was more relaxed than she’d ever been in Miami.

When Nate returned Valorie greeted him with a big smile as she raised the wine she’d poured herself—her second of the afternoon—and he returned it without hesitation.

She continued to drink as they made dinner, her easy and boring salad taking no time at all, and Nate cracked a beer while he grilled and then opened a new bottle of wine for them as they ate on the balcony overlooking the lake as the sun slowly began to set.

Despite the view she had—she’d been staring at it all day, after all—Valorie couldn’t help but watch Nate as he ate, mostly scrutinising the lines of his face that were so much different to what she once knew.

“You keep looking at me like you don’t believe I exist,” Nate said. Valorie didn’t even flinch; another two glasses of wine making her particularly carefree.

“I don’t know if I do,” she admitted, sighing as she realised that even his voice had changed. “I’ve seen you on the TV and in photos and everything but for the past seven years the image of you in my head has always been you the last summer I saw you. You were a kid and now you’re a man and I really don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Yeah,” Nate agreed, his voice a lot softer and more serious than it had been. “I know. I get it.”

Amber and Mike came over to spend time on the lake not too long into Valorie’s time with Nate. It was a perfect day, which Valorie had come to expect, and being out on the Sea Doos was the perfect way to spend it.

It was nice to have company.

Nate had taken to visiting his parents’ house if he was going to see them. He always offered for Valorie to join him, but that felt like it was encroaching on boundaries she wasn’t even sure they’d set. She’d tried, though, to get him to invite them over only to be met with a shake of the head—maybe he was worried about different boundaries being breached. Valorie didn’t know.

Amber and Mike were good company, at least. Valorie was always happy that Amber had stuck by her even when she wasn’t around. Mike… Mike she could take or leave depending on the day.

“Why’d you really leave what’s-his-face?” Mike asked, apropos of nothing and a few beers deep.

Amber glared at him, though it went unnoticed. Nate sat up a little straighter and Valorie couldn’t work out if it was Mike-related or Nick-related.

“I already told you,” Valorie said, forcing a polite twinge into her voice even if she was dreading whatever might come next.

“Yeah, but there’s gotta be more to it,” Mike argued.

“Why?”

“I love this place, but if Amber wanted to move to, I don’t know, LA and never come back I’d do it in a heartbeat. And with the money you had? Easiest decision I’ll ever make.”

“He doesn’t want kids,” she relented, though it was not without steeliness as she tried to put a definitive end to the topic. “No amount of money was worth not being a mom.”

“That’s some serious self-control,” Mike said, shaking his head almost as if he was in awe. “I can think of a lot of things I’d give up for the life you were living.”

“It’s all Valorie ever wanted,” Nate said, his voice deep and low. “She was born to be a mom.”

Valorie’s gaze moved slowly to Nate as she replayed the words in her mind. He hadn’t moved from how he’d been sitting at the start of the conversation, hadn’t even looked away from Mike. She wanted him to look at her, to make eye contact to be able to get a read on him; to see if the skip it caused in her heartbeat was for an actual reason.

“It took you seven years with this guy to work out you were on a different page?” Mike asked incredulously, earning a half-hearted shrug from Valorie who looked back to him with hesitation.

“He said he was undecided. I loved him, you know? I was willing to wait it out in the hopes that kids would be on the table.”

Mike then agreed, “I’d wait seven years if I spent the entire time being a trophy wife.”

“It wasn’t about all the material possessions,” she snapped. “I know that’s what it looked like, but I’m upset you all think I’m a gold digger.”

“If the Louboutins fit,” Mike said with an eyebrow waggle.

“We know you aren’t a gold digger,” Amber said, finally, and firmly, contributing to the conversation, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”

Mike leaned back in his chair, pointed up at Nate’s house watching over them and said, rather loudly, “Right into Nate’s sweet digs.”

His loudness was met with silence, thick and tense, and the three people that stared at him didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Do you even like me, Mike?” Valorie asked, tired.

“Come on, Val. I’m just joking around.” He added, after a hearty hunk across the back of the head courtesy of Nate, “I’ll cool it.”

The weather had turned quite quickly and quite dramatically—what had been the perfect weather the week prior had turned so miserable that Valorie was looking out the floor to ceiling windows as if her death stare could part the black clouds.

Nate was somewhere on the island doing something hockey related that he’d told Valorie about the night before while she was half asleep on the couch, so she was, once again, left in the house to her own devices.

A second car had appeared in the garage a couple of days after her arrival and Nate had assured her that she could drive it whenever she needed; Valorie was going to avoid driving it as long as she could.

The wine room was taking more of a hit than Valorie had expected when she’d joked with Nate about drinking it all; she had very few places to go, and her mother was more than happy to drive to Grand Lake to pick her up if there were family plans so she rarely had to drive, so the day drinking was getting more out of hand than she wanted to admit. It was a similar problem to Miami, she was realising, but Nate’s house wasn’t filled with quite so many time-wasting objects and there was only so much baking she could do when Nate rarely had any visitors.

Her response to the door opening had become Pavlovian, especially since being confined inside by the rain. Valorie was on her feet, pretending to walk to the kitchen to refill her glass of red, so that she’d be able to start a conversation with Nate when he walked in.

Only, it wasn’t Nate.

“Uh… Sidney. Hi. Nate’s not here. I’m Valorie—Val,” she said, all in a rush, putting her glass on the counter and desperately hoping she didn’t have red teeth.

“Nice to see you again, Val,” Sidney said, polite and friendly. “Nate told me to let myself in; he’ll be back soon.”

The shock and awe Valorie felt being around Sidney—Sid—had disappeared after exactly one summer of learning that he was nowhere near as cool as she had built him up to be. That being said, she had not expected him to remember her for a second.

“Do you want some cookies?” she asked, quickly, noticing that Sid was hovering uncertainly. “I made way too many.”

Sid smiled, nodded, and sat down at one of the bar stools on the other side of the counter while Valorie plated up an assortment of ginger snaps, Florentines, sugar cookies and Afghan biscuits all while trying not to let the wine she’d been drinking rattle her.

“Killing the boredom of being stuck inside all day?” Sid asked, drawing the plate towards him and inspecting his choices as if she was going to stop him at one.

“It’s what I do and what I’ve done for years now.” Valorie shrugged. “I drink and I bake.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I say that sounds… underwhelming.”

“Oh, no!” Valorie gasped instantly. “I mean, I got really into yoga and reading, too. I wasn’t just some boozy housewife. I love to bake, though. I could do it all day. Wine?”

Sid agreed to a glass, and Valorie pretended that she didn’t know he was doing it so she wouldn’t be drinking alone.

“Are you happy to be back here? Back home?” Sid asked around a not-yet-finished mouthful of ginger snap. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

It was, to say the least, unnerving to have Sidney Crosby—anybody, really—sitting across from her and calling her out for being gone. They weren’t friends, like Amber and Mike, or whatever else, like Nate, and she couldn’t wrap her head around why he would care to bring it up.

She took a healthy sip of her wine, savouring the taste for longer than was strictly necessary and said, “I was always trying to get back. It just never… It was hard to get away. I’m glad to be back.”

“I’m sure the island is happy to have you back,” he said, removing the unease in Valorie’s stomach flawlessly as he looked out over the deck to the lake. “Sorry the weather didn’t hold up for you.”

“It was nice for a while,” she conceded, following Sid’s eyes, “and at least it’s the same all day. I was really not impressed by Miami deciding there was a torrential downpour every afternoon after the perfect morning. Seven years there and I never got used to it.”

Valorie moved their conversation to the couch, carrying the wine with her while Sid carried the cookies he was slowly making his way through. She let Sid talk about his off-season plans, to what he’d already done since returning to Nova Scotia, noting that he was absolutely downplaying the vacation he and Kathy had taken and skipping over the extraordinarily nice or expensive parts. She loved Antigua, knew it inside and out, but was happy to let Sid tell her what he thought was appropriate—he may have been happy to ask her why she’d been gone so long but it was clear not much more information than that had made it his way.

By the time Nate was home—his definition of ‘soon’ stretching Valorie’s just a little—she was desperate to just be anywhere that wasn’t near anyone, not just Sid and the way he knew too much yet absolutely nothing. She excused herself within moments to use the bathroom, heading downstairs to her ensuite.

On her way down the staircase, she heard, the beginning of their conversation:

“Val was just filling me in on her time in Miami.”

“She really enjoyed it, right? It sounds great.”

“That’s… one way to put it.”

Walking through Halifax with Nate by her side was an experience. He’d mentioned it in passing, that people were more interested in him than normal, but Valorie hadn’t taken it to mean it was quite so relentless.

Kids wanted their jerseys autographed, everyone wanted a photo and every other person wanted to stand there on the street with Nate and listen to him recount his entire career from Bantam to what training he’d been doing since he got back to Nova Scotia.

Their trip into Halifax had been for no reason other than the sudden realisation by Nate that Valorie hadn’t left the house in an alarming amount of time outside of her new part-time job at one of the local hobby stores, so it wasn’t like the constant stopping was preventing them from doing anything in particular.

It was, however, resulting in Valorie entering a lot of stores that she otherwise had no intention of going into just so that people could gush over Nate. And at least one purchase of a dress she didn’t need.

One person who stopped them was a classmate from high school who stopped them to question Valorie about her disappearance just as much as she stopped to gush over Nate. Valorie didn’t even remember her name and the woman hadn’t taken the time to introduce herself.

“It’s so cute that you’re back for Nate, though,” she said. “I always knew you guys would end up in the same place.”

“Well, that place is home for us, so.”

“Oh, I know, but I heard all about you in Miami and obviously Nate’s making magic in Denver so it’s just nice to see you two in the same place again.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Nate said, nodding even as he was subtly moving out of her way and directing Valorie in the same direction. “We’ve gotta head off, though. It was great to see you again.”

“Of course, sorry! You must be so busy! We should definitely catch up!”

There was more nodding and agreeing as they walked past her, Valorie checking back over her shoulder quickly in one last attempt to help her remember?”

“What was her name?” she asked Nate when they were well out of earshot.

Nate admitted easily, his face lighting up with a guilty smile, “No fucking idea.”

Valorie walked into him as she laughed, unable to control herself as it erupted from her mouth. Nate laughed, too, the guilt shifting from his face and they were holding each other up on the sidewalk as they struggled to breath.

The laughter continued, albeit subdued, as they made their way to the one thing they’d agreed upon getting: ice cream. It was an otherwise peaceful work, seemingly already having run into everyone who wanted a few minutes of Nate’s time.

Being out in public with Nate was different to being alone with him at home, Valorie noticed, and it was different to how they’d been as teenagers. He always carried himself with a confidence that was beyond him in years, almost a quiet arrogance as he always knew where he was going to end up—Valorie would have given anything to know when the arrogance disappeared. Was it because of the Cup win? His accomplishment proof enough that he was everything he ever said he was going to be. Was it seasons earlier when it didn’t look as clear?  

At the ice cream shop, Nate ordered Butterscotch ripple and then laughed under his breath as Valorie ordered Maple Walnut.

“Why is that funny?”

“You’re so Canadian.”

Noting the children around, Valorie glared at him, mouthing ‘fuck you’ before she continued out loud, “I’m going to enjoy all the maple flavoured things. You can’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I will laugh at you, though.”

They sat on a table out the front, Nate saying hello to a few starstruck kids as they did so.

“What are you staring at?” Valorie asked, her cheeks warming up under Nate’s watchful eye.

“Just wanted to see if you were still a psycho who bites their ice cream.”

Valorie made direct eye contact with him and bit into the top of her ice cream, causing Nate to shudder dramatically.

Halifax was bustling in a way that Valorie had never seen. The decision to not have the parade in Cole Harbor was purposeful, a clear differentiation from Sid’s parades and a nice thank you to Halifax for his time with the Mooseheads.

She made her way through the crowd unimpeded, even as she headed towards the rooftop she’d been told to head to near the end of the parade route, overlooking City Hall.

Nate had let Valorie know that it was where Sid would be, hidden out of sight—a decision he’d made himself. He hadn’t even relented when Nate, drunkenly, begged him to be beside him; Valorie was grateful that Sid had the awareness to decline.

Sid was already at the rooftop with Kathy, set up with a table, chairs and some food and drink to get them through the parade and the speech Nate was going to give after.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” Valorie said sheepishly, unsure if Nate had told them she’d be there. “This is where they sent me.”

“More than okay.” Sid pulled up a chair from the group of them nearby. “You didn’t want to be down there with him?”

Valorie stepped to the edge of the roof, taking in the swathes of people lined along the streets. Sid and Kathy were both watching her curiously as she turned back to them and took a seat, putting Sid in the middle.

“It wouldn’t feel right. Nate and I aren’t anything, you know.”

“That’s not true, though, is it?” Sid asked. “Or you’d be in the crowd, not up here.”

Valorie froze in her seat, only her eyes moving to follow Sid’s hand as it disappeared beside him and came back with a cooler bag that he pulled wine from.

“Do you moonlight as a shrink?”

“For Nate, yeah, I feel like I do.” He carried on, no beats missed, “I don’t have red, will white do?”

It played in her mind as she drank her wine and ate from the platter that had been set up. Nate hadn’t offered for her to be by his side—she would have turned it down immediately even if he had—and when he’d suggested she sit with Sid it felt, to her, that was the next best thing.

She wasn’t overly talkative during the wait, choosing to just stare out over the edge of the roof at the other side of the street and the people who were in nearly chaotically good spirits. She was hearing vague parts of the conversations Sid and Kathy were having, and answering questions when asked, but for the most part she was lost in the magic of the Stanley Cup being back in Nova Scotia.

Valorie had been in Cole Harbour for Sid’s 2009 Cup Parade as a small and spindly 13-year-old, watching the Cup from a distance.

That morning she’d been able to run her fingers across the engraved names.

“Is it the happiest you’ve ever been?” Valorie asked, not even bothering to quieten her voice so that Kathy wouldn’t hear. “He doesn’t talk about it as much as I thought he would.”

Sid shifted his entire body to face her and Valorie immediately felt like she was about to get a talking to; she forced herself not to shrink.

“If you want him to talk about it you have to let him know he can. I promise you he won’t shut up about it.”

“Oh. Does he think I don’t care? That’s not true,” she said, worried. “I don’t want him to think I don’t care.”

The timing was on point for the parade to enter their vision, no longer just the distant sound of the band. Even as Valorie continued to think about the possibility that Nate didn’t know how much she cared about what he’d achieved, she couldn’t help but be delighted by the sight of Gabe and Cogs very, very drunk in the first carriage that came through.

When Nate came clearly into view, the Cup held high above his head, Valorie felt her heart swell and tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“It is,” Sid said, barely audible over the band and the crowd. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”

Nate had a million things planned for the rest of his day; had a lot of people to introduce the Cup to. Long after he had disappeared from the parade and after the streets of Halifax started to clear, Valorie remained on the roof with Sid and Kathy, swapping stories until their skin was turning pink.

The fact that Sid remembered her, let alone willing to talk with her like an old friend, was still very much blowing Valorie’s mind but it wasn’t something she was going to draw attention to lest it ruin the chill vibe they’d settled into.

They walked to the bar where the party would really kick off, Sid easily blending into the small crowds still milling around Halifax—the occasional person shouting at him, at everyone near them, at the wind. The excitement felt like it was never going to leave.

Waiting for Nate felt like an age, somehow felt even longer than all seven years Valorie had been away. Maybe it was sitting beside an already very drunk Mike, or maybe it was the intense anticipation coursing through her because she knew that Nate could walk through the doors with the Stanley Cup at any moment.

Maybe it was that she was pulled into a conversation with Gabe Landeskog who looked only marginally more sober than he had in the carriage; the beers he was double fisting were sure to fix that.

“Long time no see, Valorie,��� he said, his tone giving no indication whether that was good or bad. “All the way back at Nate’s first game, right?”

Valorie was hesitant to respond, and opted for an honest, “That was the only one I got to, yes.”

“He missed you a lot that year.” Gabe paused to drink from one of his beers and Valorie waited for the rest of the thought. “The year after, too, but different.”

“I missed him, too,” Valorie admitted readily; that wasn’t something she’d ever been shy about.

Gabe nodded at her, then raised his chin to say hello to someone who had just walked into the room—it wasn’t Nate, Val checked—and then put his beers down on the table between them so that he could collapse into the empty seat.

“It’s good you’re back together. He’s really happy about it.”

“We’re not—he’s happy because he’s done the one thing you guys aim to do. He’s beaten the final boss. The Elite Four were no match for you guys.”

“No, no, sure he’s happy about that.” Gabe insisted, “It’s a different happy now. A more complete happy.”

“I don’t think you’re making any sense. You should go drink some water.”

Gabe protested, downing one of the beers in a matter of seconds as if that would prove he didn’t need water. Her lip quirked up at the action, both from amusement and bemusement.

Nate finally walked in, well after everyone else was a few drinks in and getting rowdy. His arrival increased the already loud bar enough to make Valorie cover one of her ears while raising the other into the air as she joined the hollering.

Nate finally walked in, well after everyone else was a few drinks in and getting rowdy. His arrival made it worse in that the noise levels were high enough to make Valorie cover one of her ears while raising the other into the air as she joined the hollering.

He and the Cup were moved around the room like he was in a pinball machine, from person to person, from shot glass to shot glass, until at last he was in front of her. The Cup had been deposited somewhere else in the room and Valorie didn’t care enough to locate it; after all, she wasn’t there to see the Stanley Cup.

With a lack of hesitation that couldn’t even be passed off on any drinking she’d been doing, Valorie threw herself at Nate, overcome by the need to make sure he knew she cared about what he’d achieved.

Nate wasn’t immediately ready for it, Valorie’s arms around his neck as she pulled him closer, but he soon realised what was happening and moved his arms around her waist to pull her off the ground.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, breathless and rushed into his ear. “You’re so good at—at hockey and at knowing me and at taking care of me. But hockey, Nate. I want to hear all about it, okay? Probably tomorrow so I can appreciate it, but I do. I watched it. All six games. I cried I was so proud of you. I am so proud of you. You’re so good.”

“You watched?” he asked back, his warm breath brushing over her own ear and causing her to pull back with her head tilted and her face contorted.

“Yes, Nate. Of course. I thought you knew. I didn’t think I had to tell you.”

Nate pulled her back in, his face buried in her neck. The room may as well have been empty with the way all of Valorie’s senses honed in on Nate—he’d showered before coming, put on cologne that made her head spin, and his warm breath fanned across her neck which made the spinning worse.

If a loud, roaring round of applause hadn’t broken out, Valorie could have stayed pressed against him all night. As it were, though, she pulled back in a dramatic fashion and put a reasonable distance between them before contributing to the clapping—putting gross enthusiasm into it.

Nate laughed, then made a few embarrassed gestures of acknowledgement, before accepting a beer that was being handed to him.

Valorie disappeared, leaving Nate to be bounced around the room again, and hid away with Amber and Mike. They were good and spoke to their other high school friends, all of whom were surprised to see Valorie in the flesh. Luckily for her, the Cup was more than enough of a distraction from any of them asking her what she’d been up to while she was gone.

As the night grew later, it became very clear that Nate’s long day was catching up with him. He was trying, valiantly, to be the last person kicking at the bar, though his demeanour was getting progressively testier as time passed.

“I’m gonna head out. Do you want to come or stay?” she asked, brushing her hand gently over Nate’s shoulders.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, sullen, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her towards his chair. “You should stay.”

“Amber’s driving me home—if I leave you here can you get home?”

“You should stay,” he repeated, eliciting a laugh from the group he was sitting with.

Valorie laughed with them and ran her hand over his head, insisting that she was leaving whether or not he was coming with her. He hummed, resigned, but let her go so that she could follow Amber outside.

Valorie waited against the wall outside, her head resting back against the cool brick, while Amber went to get her car—Mike went with Amber, mostly because Valorie refused to be the one responsible for him keeping to the sidewalk and off the road.

The door opened and Valorie turned her head, expecting to just wave to somebody as they left, and was surprised to see Nate stepping out.

“Everything alright? You coming home?” she asked, reaching out to him without a second thought. Nate went to her easily.

“I’m going to stay for a bit longer,” he said, standing in front of her. He wasn’t boxing her into the bricks but he was definitely close enough that it wouldn’t take much at all to get there—Valorie thought it would be nice if he did.

“Why are you out here, then?” she asked, her fingers resting in his belt loops.

“I need to…”

Nate didn’t finish his sentence, just lowered his head little by little. Valorie tilted her chin up, pushing back against the wall to get a bit more height.

He wasn’t the same Nate she’d kissed at eighteen—he was broader, bigger in every sense and it was intoxicating to be pressed against the wall by the Nate she’d come to learn. In her mind she was expecting desperation, a need to make up for lost time. It didn’t come, though, and yet Valorie still felt lightheaded when he broke their kiss.

“Will you be in my bed when I get home?”

Valorie scoffed, a little disappointed, “Nate.”

“Not for like—I just want you there. I always want you there.”

She breathed out an “okay”, and kissed him again before sending him back inside to be with his lingering friends.

When he was gone and her head was clearer, Valorie opened her eyes and jumped off the wall at the sight of Amber’s car in front of her and Mike hanging out the passenger’s window.

She pushed Mike back into the car on her way to the backseat, asking before she even sat down, “How long were you there for?”

“Saw it all, babe,” Amber said, beaming into the rear-view mirror. “Never been happier to roll up on two people hooking up outside a bar.”

Valorie knew the second she woke up that things were different. The most immediately apparent difference was the snoring coming from beside her, accompanied by the warmth of an arm over her waist and a chest pressed against her back. Even the mattress underneath her felt different.

Then there was the fact that Nate had kissed her the night before, the catalyst for the other changes she supposed.

It wasn’t a bad different was her first major takeaway, and she relaxed back into the mattress. She couldn’t just lay there forever but she could for a little longer and enjoy the all-encompassing presence of Nate.

She had a fair idea of what time he usually woke up but couldn’t translate that into what might happen when he was hungover—which he was sure to be, and she couldn’t begrudge him that—so after lying in long enough that an ache started to settle in her sides, Valorie pulled herself out of Nate’s embrace and decided to start making breakfast.

Nothing fancy, of course, but she could whip up bacon and eggs and put some pods in a Nespresso machine without too much hassle. She hoped that the smell of food would wake him up, whether he was up to eating it or not and her hope was fulfilled when he wandered out while she was eating her own plate.

“You told me you couldn’t cook,” Nate said, dropping an easy kiss onto Valorie’s head as he passed her to the kitchen.

“I can use a fry pan.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Eating across from Nate, with him smiling at her in a way he hadn’t since her return, was exactly what Valorie had been after and hadn’t known. Listening to him tell her all about the things she’d missed when he was off doing Stanley Cup things and filling him in in return. Everything he said was perfect and when he moved into telling her about the Cup win itself—“You have to do it again so I can be there.”

“I’ll give it my best go.”

Valorie grinned, picturing it all in her head. She held the image in her mind as she cleared the table and it all came crashing back down when she looked at Nate over the kitchen counter as she realised that their future relied on them talking about the new state of their relationship.

“We probably need to have a conversation or two,” Valorie said hesitantly, eyeing Nate over her coffee to check for any reaction at all. When he didn’t so much as blink, she added, “It’s just been like… six weeks and I don’t actually know what we are to each other.”

He wasn’t pleased, mumbling, “Do we have to have that conversation?”

“If we’re going where I want us to, then yeah, Nate.”

That caught his attention enough to have him properly look at her, no longer buried in his coffee. His question came slow and unsure, yet simultaneously hopeful, “Where do you want us to go?”

“I want us to be together again.”

His previously wary face transformed into a smile, small and barely noticeable. Valorie smiled back at him as she continued to drink her coffee. She didn’t know how to start whatever conversation it was that they needed to have—conversations were one of their strong suits as teenagers, Valorie was able to frame things in the perfect way or ask just the right questions to get Nate talking.

Just as she was trying to come up with a way to get him talking, Nate was the one who spoke first.

“Why’d you move to Miami with him?”

Valorie froze. It made sense, in hindsight, that Nate would be the one leading the conversation when she was the one who’d left, and yet it was still like being doused in cold water to have the question asked of her so directly.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and provided the simplest explanation she had, “I thought I was going to marry him.”

“I thought you were going to marry me.”

“Obviously that didn’t happen, Nate.”

“Yeah,” he said, because it was entirely obvious that it hadn’t happened and the look on his face showed that he didn’t like to be reminded of it. “And I’m still trying to work out why.”

“Nate, it was seven years ago.” She added, stressed, “We were kids.”

“I still don’t know why you broke up with me, Valorie.”

“Valorie?” she all but screeched, her full name coming from his lips sending a horrible quake down her spine and through her body.

Nate powered on, “You broke up with me and you left and to this day I don’t know why that was.”

“I wasn’t happy, Nate.”

The abrupt silence was worse than the conversation. Valorie sat there, wishing she could take back those four little words—she would if she’d known just how instantly Nate would close up.

His entire face, which had at least been showing his unhappiness and discomfort, was no longer telling her a single thing about how he was feeling. Except with that, she knew exactly how he was feeling.

She opened her mouth, ready to try and do damage control, to try to take it back so that he wouldn’t look like that, except not a single word came out.

Nate beat her to it, though, the sadness gone from his face but still very present in his voice. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I know that the long distance wasn’t great—why didn’t you talk to me?”

“None of it was your fault, Nate,” Valorie stressed, reaching across the table towards him even though he was out of reach. “You were the best thing I had going at the time. I couldn’t keep a job and I couldn’t continue with college because I kept failing the classes and I needed to leave so that I could work on all of that and not drag you down with me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, over the next twelve months I learnt a lot, I grew a lot. I actually was going to ask if you wanted to try again when we were both back here the next summer, but you brought a girlfriend.”

“Rachel.”

“She was lovely,” Valorie said, truthfully.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“And fuck up the thin hold you had on your mental health by dragging you down with my problems?”

“Breaking up with me and then ghosting me did a pretty good job of that.”

Valorie finally pulled her hands back to her lap, knowing that that one sentence was a sure sign that Nate wasn’t going to hold them. Him leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest made it even clearer.

She didn’t know what to say, no amount of explaining was going to be enough and she didn’t want him to think she was making excuses. At the time it had felt like the right thing to do, breaking up with him without any real reason, in the years that had past she’d come to her own realisations that maybe it wasn’t.

Nate’s voice was gruff when he asked, “When did you meet Nick?”

“The first year I was gone…” Valorie said with a sigh. “Sometime in early 2015. Before I came back that summer. We weren’t together at that point because I thought… I thought we—” she gestured between herself and Nate “—could try again. But you know…”

“Rachel,” Nate filled in, uncrossing his arms.

“Rachel. So I went back to Miami, I found Nick because he’d been good to me while I was there but we’re here now anyway. You and me.”

He nodded, still expressionless. Valorie’s leg twitched under the table, up and down repetitively, as she tried to will herself to let Nate be the next person to speak.

“You and me?” he asked, after a long silence.

“If you still want me.”

Nate sighed, pushing his chair back and standing. Valorie watched him, worried that he was going to walk away from the table—from their conversation. He walked around the table towards her, though, and Valorie didn’t have to be told to stand and meet him halfway.

Nate didn’t have anything special planned for his birthday, much to Valorie’s horror. He was going to see his family for lunch—with an invite extended to Valorie which she was more than happy to accept. She couldn’t help but laugh when she arrived and saw Sid and Kathy sitting at the table on the back porch.

“You’re almost like a second father,” Valorie joked, in lieu of a proper greeting. “You’re just everywhere. All Nate’s big moments.”

“I’m really not that old,” Sid argued.

“I was thirteen when I watched you bring the Cup to Cole Harbour. That makes you pretty old.”

He scoffed, “I turned 22 that year.”

Valorie hummed and nodded knowingly, “Old.”

She watched him roll his eyes, noting the affection on his face, and moved on to greet Kathy properly.

It was, otherwise, an uneventful lunch. Valorie was appreciative of the invite, more than pleased to finally be with Nate’s family—back with Nate’s family, and being treated as if she’d never left in the first place. Her smile was ever present, only growing as she watched Nate shift uncomfortably while Happy Birthday was sung at him. Especially when she knew she was going to sing it at him again that evening.

They stayed there until late in the afternoon and Valorie tried not to let her impatience show because she liked spending time with his family, with Sid and Kathy, but she had plans for dinner that she didn’t want to mess up. Nate knew, though, at least vaguely, so they left early enough that Valorie could relax.

When they got home, she banished him to his bedroom so that she could start to cook and set the table with the fancy table setting she’d bought the day before. She was meticulous about their dinner, returning to the recipe far more than was probably necessary to ensure that it was exactly how it needed to be, and felt a true sense of pride as it all came together.

“Can I come back out?” Nate asked, still hidden behind the wall.

Valorie looked around her, taking in the pan she was using and the cleanliness of the kitchen before she told him that he could.

He bypassed the set table, walked straight towards her, and peered over her shoulder to see what she was cooking. His laugh was gentle and sincere.

“Are you making me risotto?”

“I’ve been practising,” she admitted. “When I went to Amber’s the other day we did a test run and it was actually pretty good!”

She giggled as Nate pulled her back from the stove and turned her around, kissing her so sweetly that she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.

The whole shop stood still, except for the large bouquet of roses that was being walked to the counter; a deep red expertly pruned and assembled. Valorie knew exactly who they were from before they had even reached her.

Everyone huddled around the vase, customers included, as it was set down on the counter in front of Valorie. She knew who they were from without even looking at the note they came with, but there was a sudden hush when her co-worker read out the note on the card: Happy Birthday, mi amor. Love always, Nick.

“You sure that says Nick?” one of their customers asked—Valorie vaguely recognised her from school, though she was positive they hadn’t been in the same year. “Not Nate?”

“I mean—”

Valorie snatched the note more aggressively than she’d intended, saying, “Nick is a friend.”

The side eyes she got from both the customer and her co-worker were far from subtle but Valorie just buried the note in her pocket and carried the vase into the back room.

They—like everything Nick bought her—were gorgeous. He had somehow managed to send her the most perfect roses from Florida and she didn’t want to think about how much money had gone into them. Every day with Nick was filled with unnecessary luxuries and that only increased tenfold on her birthday.

Until the roses came along, Valorie’s day had been uneventful. She woke up early enough for her half-day shift at the hobby store—granted to her by her boss who was horrified that she hadn’t already asked for the whole day—and discovered that Nate was already awake and making her breakfast, and he planned on driving her into Halifax.

It was the most thoughtful gift she’d received in years.

He picked her up after her shift—and after her co-worker tried not so slyly to ask more questions about the roses—and Valorie was met with a bouquet of flowers as she opened the passenger’s side door. She rushed to sit in the car, pushing the vase of roses between her feet on the floor and reaching for the pink hydrangeas Nate held.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” she gushed, hugging them to her chest as she inhaled. “Did you have to ask someone about my favourite flower or did you just remember?”

Nate mumbled, “Remembered.”

“I can’t believe it, that’s incredible.” She leaned across the centre console to kiss him and got his cheek when he turned his head but she was too distracted by the flowers to notice. “Should I look into the meaning behind these or are they just beautiful?”

Nate started the engine, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front of him, and Valorie tried not to read into his tense jaw. Or the way he moved his hand to the steering wheel when she tried to hold it over the gearshift.

“Who did the roses come from?” he asked as they pulled into his garage after a painfully silent car ride.

She answered, cautiously, “Nick.”

“How does he know where you work?”

“I don’t know? Insta? I don’t care about the roses, you bought me hydrangeas.”

Nate only said, “okay” before he got out of the car and left Valorie sitting in it by herself. She watched him walk into the house with slumped shoulders and an aching chest before she tried to manoeuvre herself out of the car with the vase of roses and the very large bouquet of hydrangeas.

She put the roses on the kitchen counter and then scoured Nate’s cupboards for a vase so she could put the hydrangeas at the centre of the dining table. She passed Nate on the couch as she walked to the stairs, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and thank him as she did so.

Valorie tried to put it to the back of her mind as she got ready for her birthday plans—Amber had planned a whole afternoon and evening for her and Valorie had been planning her outfit for a week. It wasn’t going to be as extravagant as anything she’d done in Miami, which she’d assured Amber was more than fine, but it was her first birthday in Nova Scotia in years and her first birthday back with her best friend so she was going to make the most of it.

Putting it to the back of her mind worked well until she ascended the stairs and saw that Nate hadn’t moved from his position on the couch.

“Amber and Mike will be here soon—are you ready?”

Nate sunk further into the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his chin nearly buried into them which led to a mumbled, “I’m not really feeling it; you have fun.”

“You’re not feeling it?” she asked, hating the way her voice cracked in time with the crack in her heart. “It’s my birthday?”

“You go have fun,” he said, still into his arms. “Don’t worry about me.”

Valorie had never felt more pathetic, standing behind Nate when he wouldn’t even look at her, dressed up in one of the nicest she’d brought with her from Miami and had taken so much care with her make-up—not dressed up entirely for Nate but she definitely wanted him to at least look at her. Maybe even appreciate the effort she had gone to.

“Nate, I—I want you there,” Valorie said weakly, moving closer to him to see if she could get him to turn around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just don’t want to go out again today.”

Valorie gave up with one last desperate look at Nate and she walked immediately through the front door to wait on the doorstep for Amber and Mike. She wasn’t going to cry about it, even if the furious blinking was barely stopping her—before Amber and Mike pulled up she pulled on her sunglasses and took some deep, centring breaths.

When Amber and Mike did pull up, this time with Amber hanging out the passenger’s side window and jumping out to pull Valorie into a tight hug as she screamed Happy Birthday in her ear, Valorie’s smile was genuine.

At least, it was until she climbed into the passenger’s seat at Amber’s insistence and they sat in the car for a few moments in silence.

“We can go,” she said, hoping that the crack in her voice wasn’t noticeable to anyone but herself.

“What about Nate?”

“I don’t want to talk about Nate.”

“I’ll fight him if you want me to,” Mike offered, completely sincerely, reaching down to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Can’t promise I’ll win but I’ll give it a go.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him and I don’t want to think about it for the rest of the day.”

Not thinking about it for the rest of the day was much easier said than done. It put a clear damper on the mood despite the smile Valorie was forcing into her face. For a few blissful moments she did forget, was able to just enjoy the company she was with and the drinks in front of her—and then it all came crashing back down on her with a heartbreaking thud.

Amber tried to talk about, to get an explanation as to why Valorie was upset and Nate wasn’t around and each time she was shut down by Valorie repeating that she didn’t want to talk about it and that she just wanted to enjoy her birthday.

There wasn’t much enjoyment happening, though, with Valorie staring morosely into every rum and coke she was drinking. They’d had Happy Hour cocktails, eaten some of the best steaks Valorie had ever come across and moved on to another bar to continue their night—it was everything Valorie hadn’t realised she missed and it was still being ruined by Nate.

Amber tried again, waiting until Valorie’s glass was empty, and Valorie reacted by standing up and saying that she needed some fresh air. When Amber tried to follow her, Valorie insisted that she was going alone.

Although Valorie had decided to go outside just to get away from any more questions, the fresh air did help. She hadn’t quite realised just how much the alcohol had gone to her head until she was confronted by the breeze coming off the river.

She rested her forehead against the cool bricks of the external walls, her arms crossed above her head, and counted her breaths in and out.

“Val?”

Valorie whipped around, her forehead and forearms scraping against the bricks, and was met with Nate’s concerned face.

“Thought you didn’t want to come out again today,” she said tersely, inspecting her forearms quickly and cringing at the grazes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, readily, without prompting. “That’s pretty up there with the most asshole things I’ve ever done.”

“You made me feel like shit.”

“I know. I didn’t—I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse that’s good or justified.”

Valorie shuffled her feet, getting to the point where she was regretting her heels, and lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“I’d like to make the rest of your birthday better,” Nate said, visibly shrinking in and making himself smaller and less intimidating. “If you’ll let me.”

“I really don’t feel like I should forgive you, you know?” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air.

“Okay, that’s fair. I can go home.”

She sighed, “No, I don’t want you to go home. I—I’m really happy you’re here even if you weren’t before.”

The corner of Nate’s mouth lifted tentatively, “Yeah?”

Valorie nodded, and broke the rest of the tension between them by stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She relaxed into him, at the feel of his arms around her and the smell of his cologne filling her head. It was going to warrant a conversation, she knew that, but if she could enjoy the rest of her night she would do just that.

She led him back into the bar by the hand, having already been subjected to a brief twirl as Nate told her how good she looked, much happier and lighter than she had been when she’d walked outside.

Valorie, never one to be held down by a hangover, woke bright and early the next morning. Nate was still dead to the world beside her, a pillow pulled over his head to block out whatever noises he’d heard that she hadn’t.

It was bright outside when she left his room with her clothes bundled in her arms, unable to lie there and wait for him to stir, though the clock near the staircase told her it wasn’t even seven.

She had a quick shower—the hot water tap barely turned—and changed before she went in search of her bag, keys and phone and left a note on the kitchen counter for Nate that she was heading out but wouldn’t be long.

The roses had never left her mind, not with the weirdness they’d caused, and seeing them standing tall and proud on the kitchen counter made her know that she was making the right decision.

She wrote another note, tucking it into the flowers and made her way to her parents’ house to leave the roses and the note on their doorstep.

Mom, I think you can take better care of these than I can. Love you xxx

The round trip didn’t take overly long, so Nate wasn’t moving about the house when Valorie returned. She made herself a coffee and sat on the balcony, the caffeine working in combination with the slight breeze to keep any hangover symptoms at bay.

“Where are the roses?” Nate asked, startling Valorie when she hadn’t even heard the door slide open.

She waited until Nate was sitting sidewards on the recliner beside her before she said slowly, “With my mom. She loves roses.”

“You didn’t have to get rid of them.”

“I’m not attached to them… They were clearly making you uncomfortable, so it’s fine.”

Nate hummed, then said softly, “Thank you.”

Valorie smiled at him, grateful for the admission no matter how vague. She stood up, only to sit back down on Nate’s recliner after moving him so she could sit between his legs and relax back into him. She reached for his hands and wrapped his arms around her body.

She didn’t expect him to say anything else, happy to push the conversation they had to have to later in the day and just enjoy a quiet morning. Nate didn’t have the same desire, though.

“A guy doesn’t just send you roses on your birthday if he’s not trying to get you back.” He was speaking into her hair and if he hadn’t been so close Valorie wouldn’t have heard him at all.

She squeezed his arms and said, “If I was going back to him, I would have any of the half dozen times he’s already asked.”

She hadn’t mentioned it to Nate—to anyone—that Nick was sending things to her parents house, not many, but enough that she’d had to call him to put her foot down. The earrings he’d sent that matched the bracelet she’d been wearing the first time she’d seen Nate back in Nova Scotia were the final straw there. She’d never worn them and hadn’t put the bracelet back on, even though it was her favourite piece of jewellery.

Nate’s hesitation was evidence enough of his worry and was only amplified by the way he was holding her close and still speaking into her hair. “He’s not wearing you down?”

“Not in a good way. He seems to think that if he throws more money at me and reminds me of the life we had together and the future we could have; that I’ll just forget that I want kids.”

“Promise?”

“Remember that conversation we had? After the Cup Day? It’s you and me. I’m not going back to him.”

Nate’s forehead came to rest against the back of her head; Valorie could feel his relieved sigh.

The summer was dangerously close to ending. Valorie was counting down the days until she and Nate got on a plane to Denver, excitement and trepidation filling every ounce of her body and only getting more and more intense whenever she saw him.

There was something on her mind, though, the cause of the trepidation. A question she’d been holding onto for far longer than she intended and a question she knew she needed to ask before they left for their new life together—it couldn’t be another conversation that happened after the fallout.

Nate had just finished up his last training session with Andy, and Valorie smiled at him and only briefly cringed when he leant down to kiss her despite the sweat rolling off his body.

Andy followed Nate in, greeting her happily, none the wiser to her inner turmoil—though how could Andy be if Nate didn’t have a clue? He said goodbye to Valorie, that he’d see her when Nate was back in Canada, and she waved at him as he left.

She sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, and listened to the shower in Nate’s ensuite turn on. With a quick inhale and in an unexpected moment of courage, she decided to join him.

“What a surprise,” Nate smirked, watching Valorie drop her clothes as she entered the bathroom.

The water was nearly unbearably hot though she didn’t falter, immediately wrapping her arms around Nate. He followed suit without missing a beat and Valorie relished in being able to rest her head against his chest and hear his steady heartbeat over the water.

“What’s brought this on?”

“You did an interview a few years ago and I can’t forget it,” Valorie said, taking a deep breath. She was thankful that the shower was hiding the wetness in her voice. “That you don’t like kids? And I—I need to know if that’s still true before… I don’t know.”

“I was never sure about having kids, I’ll be honest,” Nate said, slow, measured, and most definitely confused. “But I always knew that if I was going to have kids it was only going to be with you.”

“Okay. That’s—okay.”

Her relief was immeasurable—she had known it was causing her a lot of inner stress but to have it roll off her shoulders was nicer than she ever could have imagined.

“I love you.”

Valorie pulled away from Nate’s chest, blinking through the fall of water over her face, another sigh leaving her body. She pressed up on her toes to kiss him, unable to express herself in any other way.

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#nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #homemade fic #the winter fic exchange 2k23 #fic: Avs #one shot

[alltaternotot]

Lucky Charm | E. Johnson

Erik Johnson X Fem!Reader

A/N: Inspired by Emily Kaplan’s interview with EJ after the Avs won the Cup. He’s so fine it’s not even funny.

CW: NSFW (blowjob, praise, exhibitionism if you squint REALLY hard), swearing, very limited knowledge of how horse racing/betting actually works, but I gave it a stab. Very VERY lightly proofread, pls excuse any mistakes, just doin this for funsies.

Word count: 2.4K

:)

<><><><>

The summers in Denver were always perfect. It was finally time to relax and enjoy the warm weather after months and months of cold ice rinks and rigorous schedules, for you and your boyfriend both. EJ could finally take a step back from his intense training and long road trips, just for a few weeks, before it was back to the grind again.

You worked as a senior consultant in a successful Denver design firm, which was also the reason you met the tall blond. He commissioned you to design his newly renovated kitchen and living space, and invited you to enjoy a glass of wine with him when all was said and done. He had given you a soul-sucking kiss on the way out the door that night, leading to the best years of your life so far.

You were high up enough in the company now, around four years down the line, that you could somewhat make your own schedule. You followed Erik’s schedule most of the time. You would work hard in the months he was on the ice, and take a few weeks in the summer to enjoy the sunshine and your boyfriend.

That’s how you found yourself here, sitting on the shaded patio, watching the water in the backyard pool ebb and flow in the breeze and reading a new book leisurely. There was nothing like enjoying the soft sound of the water and a good book to pass the time.

You shared a routine during these days. He would join you outside with a tray of food and special cocktails he liked to make, spending the day reading or playing cards with some music on. On race days, especially the ones his horses were entered in, he insisted on sitting outside with a cigar (because there was no way he was getting cigar ash on his indoor furniture) with the back door open, plus sitting on the part of the sectional that faced indoors so he could watch and still enjoy time with you.

Today was a race day, and like clockwork, you could hear Erik open the back door, the sound of the TV in the other room coming through, and his footfalls coming up behind you. He leaned against the back of the deck sectional you were seated in, squeezing the back of your neck and laying a gentle kiss on your head.

“How’s the read?” He asked, coming to sit down with a tray of sandwiches, fruit, and the drinks.

“S’good so far, I’m about halfway through.” You answered, popping a raspberry in your mouth and flipping the page, “any news on MacKinnon yet?”

Horse racing was something that seemed to escape you interest-wise. You thought the horses were absolutely stunning, but the pedigrees going back to the dawn of time and the betting Erik liked to partake in were a bit much for you. He loved it though, so you kept up with his horses at least. You had met them all on trips to California and listened to his explanations about why they were so elite, all while petting their velvety noses and giving them carrots, completely losing the conversation after their grandparents had been brought up.

“Nothing yet, the race starts in 20ish minutes. The announcers have high hopes for him though.” He said, picking up the cigar and his little silver guillotine strait cutter, “his money pool is up to 30k right now, could be a big day for us baby.”

He put the cigar into the guillotine and clipped the end off, pulling out his nice zippo and holding it up. You loved how he looked lighting up his cigars, holding the cigar between the teeth he still had and gently grasping it with his hand. You loved the way the little fire would reflect on his sunglasses and cast soft shadows on his face. Every time he blew a puff of smoke out, it made you want to melt into a puddle, but you would never tell him that.

“That one smells pretty good.” You remarked as he leaned back, pulling you up against his side, the scent of tobacco and spice wafting around you.

“I think so too. Naz gave me a few after the parade.” He said, looking up towards the tv for the stats of today’s race.

You admired his profile as he looked at the standings, watching his eyes dart across the screen behind his sunglasses and the tendril of blond hair sticking out of his backwards ball cap. You admired his nose and his cupid’s bow, watching as he blew out more smoke and let it billow around him. You quickly learned to love the way his lip fell flat where his teeth were missing too, despite your friends feigning concern for your future make-outs. You loved everything about Erik really, but moments like these really did something to you. You thought you might get caught looking for too long, so you turned back to your book and dove in once again.

Your books were to you like Erik’s horses were to him. You loved romance novels most of all, you could laugh at the worst of them and squeeze your thighs together when they got good. You learned new things about yourself because of them too, Erik more than willing to try new things when you brought them up, on the rare occasions that you did. You weren’t the most adventurous in the bedroom by any means, but you had a few things you particularly liked when Erik did or helped you do.

This particular book was on the thigh-squeezing end so far, the slow-burn where the main character falls in love with the handsome rugged cowboy (who also happened to have an affinity for cigars) after finding herself stuck in a podunk little town. It had gotten very hot very fast. Images of a tall dark and handsome man pushing the main character up against a barn door and finally kissing her after 15 chapters went flashing through your mind. You continued down the page, imagining the clothes coming off and the sloppy kisses leading up to a risky, almost-public blowjob. He topped it all off with blowing cigar smoke into her mouth while she trembled under him.

Suddenly, your skin was on fire, and you were hyper aware of Erik’s fingers gently stroking up and down your arm, and the way he looked smoking that damn cigar. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, and you breathing became more ragged and shallow.

You craned your head up and placed a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Your hand found his chest as you tried to sit up a little more, but Erik lifted you up just enough for a proper kiss, letting his hand fall on your shoulders, the other holding onto the cigar so he wouldn’t burn you or get ash on you.

“What’s this for baby?” He said, reaching out for another kiss, “your heart’s beating a million miles a minute…” he continued.

“Cant I kiss my boyfriend? I just felt like it…” you said, albeit with a ragged intake of breath.

He smiled a knowing smile, “did your book get good baby?”

“I just wanna kiss you…” you repeated, and he obliged with a few more kisses, noting the way a blush crept up your neck and turned your ears red like it did when you asked him to try something.

After the kiss slowed down, you laid down on the sectional, your head resting on Erik’s thick thigh. His eyes shot back to the tv again, observing the standings again. You tried to focus on your book again, but your mind traveled back to the blowjob up against the cowboy’s barn, and him blowing smoke into the main character’s mouth, your thighs squeezed together again. Erik began running a hand through your hair, brushing your scalp with his fingertips.

You placed gentle kisses on his thigh and began to slowly slide off the sectional, not wanting to take too much of Erik’s attention off the tv. You brought a pillow down with you, putting it under your knees so they wouldn’t scrape against the concrete of the patio. You reached for the knot holding his shorts up, and he inhaled sharply, his hand flying down to caress your face.

“Baby…” he said, and you continued trying to take the knot out of the tie, “baby you wanna do this now? Here?” He said, gently holding your chin so you would look up into his gaze.

You never wanted to do anything outside before now, you had a lot of anxiety about the media seeing you and Erik doing NSFW things and ruining both of your careers. He had asked before on a couple of occasions, but you found a way to steer things inside with the blinds shut. You were almost completely secluded here, it was the off-season, and it would take a real scumbag of a media person to show up at the house for a juicy scoop.

“Yeah, I want you so bad…” you said quietly, “you look so fucking hot with that cigar…” you admitted without thinking.

“You like the cigar huh?” He said, pushing his hips up so you could pull his shorts and boxers down just enough for his dick, already half hard from a few kisses and touches.

“You have no idea what you do to me with that damn thing…” you said, pressing kisses to the cut of his hip and his happy trail.

He groaned in playful frustration, spreading a little more so you fit better between his thighs. You finally grabbed his dick, running your closed hand up and down. He moaned and reached for your hair, running his fingers through it again. You stroked him until he was fully hard, watching the muscles tense under your touch.

You ran your tongue along the underside in a fat stripe, letting your spit coat his dick. You took the head in your mouth and sunk down slowly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t take. He fisted your hair, pulling back strands so he could see your face.

He loved looking at you when you blew him, there was nothing better. He loved watching his dick disappear into your throat and how expertly you took him. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, and saw he was slack-jawed with his eyes rolled back, absorbing all of the sensations.

“Mmm baby, you look so pretty taking me like that…” he said breathily, “holy fuck your mouth feels so good.”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his dick and bringing him that much closer. He had to control himself from fucking your throat. Everything about this was hot, the sight of you on the ground for him, the wet sound of your spit, the way your mascara was starting to run in the corners of your eyes.

He watched and waited for you to look up through your eyelashes again, then took a deep inhale of the cigar and blew it out, still holding onto your hair. The smell of the cigar just heightened everything further.

Suddenly the sound of a bugle announcing the beginning of the race, and a shot accompanied by the gates holding in the horses swinging open drew your eyes to the tv. You looked up to Erik again, watching his eyebrows slightly raise as MacKinnon pulled forward by a few feet. You took him out of your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin and all over his dick, and you took a moment to breathe while you stroked.

Focusing back on Erik, you knew he was close, you could feel his hard muscles tensing. His moans were getting higher and a little louder, but not too loud, he knew that would make you nervous about people noticing. His hands ran through your hair and gently held the back of your head when you took him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, eliciting a sharp whine from him. He took another puff of the cigar, sending you into a somewhat feral effort to get him there.

“I-I’m so close baby! God you feel amazing!” He said, watching you take his dick, “you’re so good for me, treating me so well…” he praised.

You sucked gently and bobbed your head a few more times before he finally shot his load down your throat, letting you swallow it. He moaned and writhed above you, tightening his grip on your hair before letting his fist loosen so your hair fell down around your face.

You leaned your head on his thigh and took a few breaths, trying to regain some composure. Seeing you like that always made his heart skip a beat, hair tousled from his hands and lips swollen and glossy. You even had a little speck of black soot from the cigar swiped across your cheek.

He hiked his shorts back up and offered his free hand. He pulled you up to straddle his lap, taking a deep inhale of the cigar again, watching your eyes and your swollen lips. He kissed you, letting the smoke fall out of your open mouths. You were both breathing heavy as you relaxed chest to chest, head falling into the crook of his neck. He rubbed soothing circles into your back as you tried to regain your breathing.

“Holy shit! Mackinnon’s about to break into first!” Erik said somewhat tiredly, and you turned around to see his beloved horse pulling forward in the final stretch of the race.

You both cheered as MacKinnon crossed the finish line, effectively winning Erik 30 thousand dollars and more bragging rights to his racing friends. You leaned down and kissed him again, not trusting yourself to get up and stand on your jelly knees quite yet.

“We should break open a vintage bottle tonight baby, we’re celebrating!” He said, standing up with you wrapped around his waist, “you’re my lucky charm baby, maybe we should do that for every race!” He joked.

“Trust me E, I can get on board with that… just keep that cigar around…” You teased, and he laid a deep kiss on your lips.

He walked you both inside and laid you down on the couch, tray of food and drinks (and the cigar) long forgotten. His hands already traveling down your body and in your hair.

“Let me show you now much I love you, my lucky charm.”

#Erik Johnson #Erik Johnson imagine #EJ fic #Colorado Avalanche #Avs fic #pls come back bestie we miss you #T’s imagines #nhl fic

[kaleforcale888]

Just Y/n - Cale Makar

Summary: You are not sure where you and Cale stand in your relationship.

Word count: 2.3K

Warning: cale being a red flag; lack of communication; anxiety

a/n: so while going through the notes app in my phone I found some of my work from the original kaleforcale888 and decided to rewrite it. Anyway thanks for sticking around as I get my crap all back together!

You didn’t know what it was about Cale, but you were definitely starting to have stronger feelings than just “liking” him. What a cliché, middle school thing to say, liking someone. You didn’t know what it was about the man; maybe it was his beautiful, blue eyes that caught you attention, or his crazy hair that sticks up in all different directions at any given moment.

Despite being incredibly good looking, he was also the sweetest person you had ever met. Cale had the best personality. On the outside he was reserved and quiet, but once you got to know him, he was actually really interesting and fun to be around.

You hadn’t been seeing or even hanging out with Cale for very long, only going on a few dates here and there depending on when he was in Denver. You had met at a King Soopers’ Starbucks, him having come in for a drink and leaving with your phone number. From then on you had been on one formal dinner date but had hung out at miscellaneous times when he was in the state. Your favorite was just spending time with him at his apartment and doing random, mundane things. You felt like you got to know the real Cale, not Cale Makar: MVP defenseman.

Spending so much time together made you feel like you had known him your entire life. One date and ever since, you had magically fallen into a routine together. When he had home games, you’d stay at his apartment until the game was over, then spend the evening together before sharing a bed together for the night. While he was away, you would sit at home, missing him, wishing he was there with you.

With your routines naturally integrating, you never had the “what are we talk.” Yeah, you kissed on a regular basis and often slept in the same bed, but some aspects of your life never fully unified; and for a time, part of you was fine with that, but as of late, it was starting to wear on you. You had never met his friends or even teammates, let alone his family, and you started to doubt your relationship, or maybe lack thereof.

***

You sat on the couch of Cale’s apartment, watching the end of the hockey game. The Avs won again, and you knew he would walk through the door nonchalantly but would be elated on the inside. After about an hour or so later, a jingle of keys in the door let you know that Cale was home. You smiled to yourself.

“I’m home,” Cale joked, throwing his bag next to the door so he could easily find it tomorrow morning.

Looking back at him, you rested your chin on the back of the couch, “Hi, how was it,” you asked, acting like you hadn’t just watched the entire game in his living room. You always liked to ask him how it went to get his perspective.

He crouched down to be level with you and smiled, “It was good.”

You rolled your eyes at his humbleness and leaned in closer to him. Cale closed the gap between you, placing a quick kiss on your lips and stood up, too fast for your liking.

There honestly wasn’t a thought running through your mind that he didn’t like you, especially not after that flirtatious kiss. You just wished you would finally make it “official.” All you wanted recently was to meet his friends and to be a part of his world, completely.

“Hey babe,” Cale called, you didn’t even realize he had walked away because too distracted by your own thoughts.

Slightly smiling to yourself at the sweet endearment, “Yeah?” Why were you even questioning anything?

“I think I’m gonna take a quick shower, then head to bed. You are more than welcome to stay if you’d like,” he said, leaning on the door frame of his bedroom, waiting for a response. You just shook your head and settled back into the couch.

***

A few days later, you found yourself back in the very same place, Cale’s apartment. You had spent the night and he had just got back from his morning skate. “So then, Mel and a few of the other girls came and picked up their new jackets, and the guys got distracted so Bednar just ended it then.”

You shook your head, just listening to him as you stole a grape from his lunch plate. You were keeping unusually quiet today and sat with your thoughts, this was new to Cale, but he could tell that there was something bothering you. All you could think about was getting a jacket with Cale’s name on the back and being able to sport it with pride on game days. You also couldn’t help but wonder if you would get along with the other girls and wanted to meet his friends.

Sitting in silence for a few more moments, opening and closing your mouth, Cale looked up at you, expecting you to speak, “do you think I’d get along with the other girls?”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” he responded, walking to the kitchen, “You’d probably love them.”

“What about the guys?”

“They’d probably adore you, probably chirp you for being with me, but its all-in good nature,” he said as he opened the fridge to pretend to look busy, “But why are you bringing this up now? What’s going on?”

“I want to meet your friends, your Denver family. I want to see the other side of you and the other community you’re apart of. I feel like you’re ashamed of me or some…” before you could finish, Cale closed the door of the fridge and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a breath, walked closer to you, and grabbed your hands.

“I’m not ashamed of you by any means… it’s just always been hard for me to let people into my life. But listen, if it really means that much to you,” he stopped and took a deep breath, “there is a charity dinner next weekend, before the start of the playoffs, would you like to be my date? We could get all dressed up, maybe look for a dress…”

Before he could continue, you shrieked out a yes and grabbed his face, kissing all over it. “Does this mean I get to meet all the guys?”

“I don’t see why not,” he smiled at you and pressed your foreheads together before kissing you.

***

The charity  dinner was tonight and to say you were nervous was an understatement. How was Cale going to introduce you? Were you his girlfriend, his good friend? You weren’t entirely sure.

You looked in the mirror, and touched up your hair as Cale came into the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He arrived 30 minutes early as always and waited on your bed as you finished getting ready. Making eye contact through the mirror, you gave him a tight-lipped smile to which he returned, “I’m a little nervous,” you said as you scrunched into your shoulders.

“It’ll be okay,’ he said, finally walking into bathroom to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

“I know,” you turned around in his arms, “but what if they don’t like me? They have to be protective over you.”

“I promise you, if I like you, they’re going to have to put up with you. But you only have like 2 minutes, otherwise we’re gonna be late,” he said, checking his watch.

You rolled your eyes, “your definition of late or mine,” you teased and turned to finish what you were doing.”

***

As you walked into the hall, it felt like all eyes were on you and Cale, his arm interlocked with yours as you entered. “Calers!” A tall blonde man shouted across the room. Cale’s cheeks turned brighter red than normal as he directed you towards the group the man was standing with.

“Hey guys.”

“Well, well, well, Calers, who is this?” One of the men in the group asked.

“This is Y/n. Y/n this is Gabriel Landeskog, Nathan Mackinnon, and JT Compher.” He finished, pointing to a decently tall man with flaming red hair. Your heart sank in your chest, and you looked down hoping your face didn’t show too much disappointment. You weren’t officially his girlfriend; you just did relationship-y things. An awkward silence landed over the group.

“It’s nice to finally put faces to the names,” you fake laughed, breaking up some of the silence.

As the guys started up a conversation about what they could do better heading into playoff season, a woman walked up to Gabe. She gave the man a drink before stepping closer to you and offering you a smile, “Hey, I’m Mel.”

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” you smiled back at the blond.

“All this hockey talk is kind of boring, would you like to get a drink?”

You shook your head and untangled your arm in Cale’s before leaning up and whispering to him, “I’m gonna go get a drink,” to which he responded with a nod and a kiss to your cheek.

You followed Mel to the bar and ordered your drink, “I’m Gabe’s wife, if you couldn’t tell,” she joked, making you feel less nervous, “Are you Cale’s girlfriend?” She asked as you sat down at the bar together.

There it was the ever so dreaded question. Taking a sip of your cocktail to distract yourself, you shook your head, “no, just Y/n,” you said, repeating what Cale had told the other guys earlier in the evening.

Mel shook her head in understanding, “We’ll, he’s truly a good kid, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said, looking over at her husband and the defenseman interacting.

“No, yeah, I know. We’ve been hanging out for a while and I really like him, but we’ve never made anything official.”

Mel looked at you, studying your body language, she could tell this was bothering you. “Well, I don’t know how long you guys have been “hanging out”, but I’ve known him for three years now, and he’s never once brought a date to one of these. Let alone a barbeque or team pool party.”

A slight smile crept up on your lips. At least he felt comfortable enough to be willing to introduce you to his friends, despite you having to ask him. You and Mel continued to talk and get to know each other before she excused herself. When you looked over to find Cale, you saw her talking to Gabe and Cale, who looked like he was very interested in whatever she had to say.

Not long after, you finished your drink and followed in her footsteps to find Cale who was talking to some older looking men. Tapping on his shoulder, he greeted you with a smile, pulled you into his side, and continued his conversation with the men. Once there was a lull in the conversation, he looked down to you, noticing you weren’t acting like yourself, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “just getting a little tired,” you finished off with a fake yawn.

Cale shrugged it off and looked at his watch, “It is getting late, why don’t we get out of here?”

As you walked to the car hand in hand, your thoughts couldn’t help but spiral. Cale opened the car door for you; this sucked, you knew when you got home you would fall directly back into the dance of avoiding whatever conversation needed to happen.

Slamming your eyes shut, you laid your head on the car seat. The quiet got interrupted by Cale gently whispering, “You’ve seemed a little off these past few days. What’s going on in that mind of yours Y/n?”

“Nothing.”

“Please don’t lie to me, Y/n.” Cale whispered, grabbing your hand.

“I’m not lying.”

“I know you are. I was talking to Melissa, and I think we need to have a conversation.”

This conversation could either be very bad or very good, there was no telling at this moment.

“I agree,” you breathed out.

“She said that I should stop avoiding telling you how I feel,” he said as gently started rubbing his thumb across your knuckle, “I hope you know I really like you,” you slightly chuckled, “like a lot.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I was really starting to doubt, I mean just Y/n. Really, Cale? You can’t even introduce me as your girlfriend,” you said, refusing to look up at him.

“I didn’t think we needed a title. For goodness’ sake, we practically spend every waking minute together!” Despite his frustration and lack of being able to truly communicate his feelings, he remained calm. He knew that raising his voice could only make the situation worse and he would only feel more frustrated, “I thought those were titles were juvenile.”

You quickly looked up at him, laughing, trying to hold back tears, “Cale, I want to be your girlfriend!”

Cale sighed and leaned over the console, putting your foreheads together.

“Okay then, will be my girlfriend?”

“Really? That’s all it took for you to finally ask me but yes” you smiled and kissed him.

“I’m sorry, by the way… I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

“I accept your apology. But I will say, we are both terrible at communicating.”

“I agree, now can we go home?” he asked as he put the car in reverse to pull out of the parking spot.

***

A couple of weeks later, a package was delivered to Cale’s apartment addressed to you. Opening the cardboard box, you found a burgundy jacket with two interlocking hockey sticks on the arms. On the back was “MAKAR” stitched in black with a white outline and a big 8 to match his jersey. You smiled widely and hugged the fuzzy jacket in excitement. The only other thing inside the box was a note.

“Just in time for playoffs :) - M”

#cale makar #cale makar imagines #cale makar x reader #cale makar fanfiction #hockey imagines #colorado avalanche #nhl imagines #avs lb #nhl x reader #cale makar blurb #hockey #nhl

[stevenrogered]

remember when networks used to put out insane promos like this? its such a shame they stopped doing them bc they were INCREDIBLE. they teased the story for the season just enough and were so well done.

BRING THESE KINDS OF PROMOS BACK

#imagine what they could do with some of the current shows #these are 3 of my favs that i still go back and watch to this day #av #that lost one especially is just chefs kiss