#colorado avalanche writing

[eightmakar]

empty cups | n.m. | 18+

Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon x Original Character

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of underage drinking, swearing, smut (fem. oral receiving, protected sex)

A/N: inspired by empty cups by charlie puth. basically all smut so you were warned

tagging: @harlowhockeystick @bitchinbarzal @matbaerzal @taking-shots @fallinallincurls @jostyriggslover96 @burkymakar @flashyfucker @capsvsducks @xsyntheticsensation @double-j @hockeylvr59

Despite being explicitly invited, Chase Bauer felt incredibly out of place at the house party. Should she really call it a house party? It felt like a house party, with all the people milling around, the loud music, the kegs of beer strewn about, but not a house party she’d ever been to. The beer wasn’t the cheapest shit college guys could manage to purchase, the people she partied with were nearly all millionaires, and they held their liquor much better than college guys. 

Gabriel Landeskog walked up to her in her little corner, a big grin on his face and a bottle of fancy beer in his hand. “Bauer, why’re you all alone over here?” he asked, patting her on the shoulder.

“I was waiting for EJ to pick some better music,” Chase replied. “Some songs from this century would be great.”

“It’s not for lack of trying on our part,” Gabe laughed. He pointed to her empty hands and continued, “You need a drink.”

“I don’t like beer.” Chase scrunched her nose. 

“We’ve got a lot more than just beer. C’mon.” Gabe turned around and began to walk into Erik Johnson’s kitchen, so Chase followed him, making herself smaller to maneuver through the large bodies in her way. 

The kitchen was brightly lit in comparison to the rest of the house with shining bottles of every kind of alcohol Chase could imagine. There were brands she’d never heard of peppered in with bottles of Grey Goose and other top-shelf liquor she vaguely recognized.

“What do you usually drink?” Gabe asked her.

“I like sweet drinks mostly,” Chase said. She reached for a familiar bottle of lemon vodka.

“I think EJ’s got something if you want a mixer to make it sweeter.” Gabe began rummaging through EJ’s cabinets as Chase looked around the party. 

Erik Johnson’s home was always the party house. He owned a huge, isolated home with the most gorgeous views imaginable, and more guest rooms than anyone could count, which worked well for the wild parties he threw throughout the year. He always invited the whole staff, all the coaches and equipment managers and Chase and her coworkers, the athletic trainers, but this was the first Chase had chosen to attend, to celebrate the Avalanche winning Western Conference Final and going to the Stanley Cup Final.

Chase cracked a small smile as she looked over at Josh Manson sitting on a couch against a wall, waving a glass of something dark around and loudly telling a story to an apathetic Sam Girard. Mikko Rantanen sat across from them, his girlfriend on top of him, straddling his legs as they passionately made out like no one else was in the vicinity. 

Small groups of wives and girlfriends littered the walls, holding delicate glasses of wine and champagne, though Chase knew they could put back as much alcohol as their significant others. Other groups of players were interspersed around, some chatting lowly, some loudly, and others barely at all. Alex Newhook and Logan O’Connor had started an enthusiastic game of beer pong in the middle of the wide living room.

“How the fuck does EJ only have Crystal Light packets in this huge fucking house?” Gabe said, returning to Chase’s side and making her turn around. 

“That strangely makes sense,” Chase laughed. Gabe handed her the small box of lemonade packets and she immediately took two out. She filled a Solo cup to the brim with lemon vodka and mixed the two packets in. Taking a sip, she gave Gabe a thumbs up. 

“If I see you back in your corner, I’ll drag you to the dance floor instead,” Gabe warned.

Chase took another long, burning sip of her drink. “Got it, Cap.”

Gabe rolled his eyes and wandered away, over to one of the pods of players, leaving Chase alone with her cup to gaze around the party again. EJ was dancing with his fiancée on the “dance floor,” which was just an area of the room that was wide open. The enormous Darcy Kuemper, his wife, Kurtis MacDermid, and his girlfriend all danced with them. Chase thought they all danced like dads.

“Looking for someone?” 

“Jesus!” Chase jerked around and found herself face to face with a serious looking Nathan MacKinnon. Beer in hand, he gazed at her, blue eyes a little icy.

“Shit, sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s all good, I was kinda zoned out,” Chase admitted. She drank her lemony drink again, trying her hardest to finish it soon. 

A drunken Mikko bumped into Chase before Nate could say anything, dragging his girlfriend behind him and giggling as they went upstairs, but earning a sharp glare from Nate. Nate protectively put an arm on Chase’s shoulder and pulled her out of the middle of the room, out of the way of his drunk friends and teammates. Her feet were beginning to ache in her heels, so she took the chance to sit down on a barstool. To her surprise, Nate joined her, pulling a barstool over for himself as well.

Chase was convinced Nathan MacKinnon hated her. She didn’t know what it was; maybe the serious passion he played with, maybe the intense specificity he demanded with his equipment and his body, maybe the high standards he held himself and everyone else to. If and when she had to treat him, like she did recently when he got in a fight with Dumba for Minnesota, his body tensed up and he pulled away from her touch, which made her job as an athletic trainer much more difficult. She thought it might’ve been the fact that she was a woman, but he fiercely protected her at games, practices, and really any time someone tried to make a comment about her gender. When she’d first been hired, he and the rest of the team had been asked numerous times how they felt about it, and his response made her feel the most welcome and the most at home: “She’s part of the team and we treat her that way. We really only care about getting our job done and making a run for the Cup and she’s going to help us.”

“I’m not gonna lie, Bauer, I was surprised to see you came,” Nate said, fiddling with the bottle in his hand. He looked up at her and anxiously scratched his beard. 

“You were?” Chase asked incredulously, puffing herself up a little bit.

Nate winced at her tone. “Good surprised,” he clarified, and she relaxed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of EJ’s parties.”

“I usually don’t come, but this one seemed special,” Chase shrugged.

“You didn’t come to the President’s Trophy party last year. God, that one was a mess,” he chuckled low in his throat and half-smiled at her.

“So I take it I missed a lot of fun?”

“Oh yeah,” Nate laughed again, the ice in his eyes beginning to melt a bit. Chase was pretty sure in the two years she’d worked for the Avs, she’d never spoken more than a couple words to him, but here they were having a conversation like old friends. 

“Who was the drunkest?” She asked, swigging her vodka and trying not to react to the burning in her mouth and throat.

“Honestly, a lot of guys were pretty close. Josty was so fucked up he fell outside on the porch, broke his nose, and ended up just sleeping there.”

“Jesus,” Chase breathed with a small laugh. “I’ve never been that drunk in my life and don’t wanna be.”

“I have,” Nate said, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. “In juniors and at World’s.”

“Wow, in juniors? Nathan MacKinnon, under age drinker?” Chase smirked. 

Nate rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna sit here and tell me you weren’t an under age drinker too?”

“Genuinely, I wasn’t. I had my first drink on my twenty-first birthday. I know, how painfully boring of me.” Chase had heard it all, every comment under the sun about her dislike of drinking. 

“That’s not boring,” Nate said immediately. “If you don’t like it, it’s not boring.” 

“I don’t like the taste, unfortunately. Plus my tolerance is sky high, so I’ve only really been drunk twice in my life.”

“Really? What are you drinking now?” 

Chase took a sip of her drink, almost to show Nate she wasn’t boring. “Don’t laugh, but it’s lemon vodka with lemonade packets. It’s surprisingly good.”

Nate cracked a smile. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“It is,” Chase conceded, “but I do wanna get drunk, so this is how I have to do it. Straight vodka.”

“Hold on.” Nate got up and retreated to the kitchen. While he looked through the bottles of liquor, Chase people-watched.

Cale Makar was drunkenly singing to the ABBA song playing over EJ’s sound system with his girlfriend, André Burakovsky had apparently decided to only speak in Swedish for the rest of the evening, and JT Compher stood with his chest against his girlfriend’s back while having a conversation with Darren Helm, tugging his girlfriend far too close to him. 

“Goddamn,” Nate said as he returned clutching a partial bottle of vodka with a bar-style top that allowed for better pouring. “Cale is wasted.”

“Good for him, he deserves it.”

“He does.” Nate offered Chase the bottle. “I snagged this. EJ’s got a whole distillery over there, so he won’t miss it.”

“Oh shit, thank you,” Chase said. “What about you?”

“This isn’t just for you,” Nate grinned, then threw his head back and poured vodka straight into his mouth. 

Chase tried not to drool as she watched him. She was starting to feel a bit fuzzy, and she could feel her reservations about Nate slipping away by the sip. There was no denying he was incredibly attractive, a fact she was painfully aware of every moment she spent close to him. 

“Now my turn,” Chase said. She surprised herself, but she tilted her head back and opened her mouth.

Nate’s grin widened as he began to pour vodka in her mouth. She always thought vodka tasted like hand sanitizer, and the burning taste engulfed her mouth and throat. She tugged away, mouth full, and Nate accidentally got a bit of vodka on her chin. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, watching Nate’s eyes glaze over as she did. Fuck, was he into that like she was?

Chase shoved the thoughts out of her mind and chugged the rest of her lemonade combo. The liquid burned all the way down to her stomach, but the heat continued down her body and between her thighs as she watched Nathan tip his head back and pour more vodka into his mouth.

The song over the speaker changed. Cale clearly didn’t know it, but he looked over at Nate and Chase and waved enthusiastically. He came over to join them, creating a triangle with a third stool.

“You don’t know this one too?” Chase chirped. 

“I’m too drunk,” Cale shrugged, holding his hand out to Nate and motioning for him to hand over the vodka bottle. Nate did, and Cale barely leaned his head back, just moving the bottle, not unlike the way he drank water on the bench during games. He paused, swallowed with a scrunched nose, then poured more vodka in his mouth. Swallowing again, he shook his head and handed the bottle back to Nate. 

Chase took it and drank from it again. She could feel the alcohol she’d already drank slowly lowering her inhibitions, slowly loosening her mind, and she knew she had to continue to drink if she wanted it to stay that way.

“I’m impressed you’re here, Bauer,” Cale said as Chase drank. 

Chase wiped her mouth again and handed the bottle back to Nate. “Thanks, me too. I’ve always been afraid to come to one of these things.”

Cale’s rosy face frowned in concern, his eyes trying to focus on her. “Afraid?” he asked sadly. Nate looked at Chase too, but the concern looked different on Nate’s face. Almost more protective? She couldn’t tell, and with how fuzzy her whole body was starting to feel, she was even more confused. 

“Well yeah,” Chase started, feeling her mouth run without a filter of any kind, just words spewing and spewing. “There’s a lot of men here and some of you I don’t trust to not do weird things to me while I’m drunk and I don’t trust myself to not do weird things and fuck, I’m drunk.”

“Weird things?” Nate asked. 

“Weird things like Mikko and Susanna do. Like right now, Nathan, I want to kiss you so so bad, but I know I can’t, because you hate me but I’d still kiss you.”

Fuck. What the fuck just came out of her mouth? She couldn’t stop it.

“But that would also be weird because I don’t just want to kiss you I wanna do so much more than kiss you but I’ve never had sex before so I’d be bad at it.” Chase sighed and gazed at Nate, who looked incredulous. His blue eyes were wide as he drank from the vodka bottle, finishing off what little was left in it. 

“I’m definitely too drunk for this,” Cale said, shaking his head. He got up and returned to his girlfriend. 

“Shit, Nate, I didn’t mean—fuck,” Chase said. Her body was floating and swimming and felt like static on an old television. 

“I don’t hate you,” Nate said softly. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you never talk to me, you flinch away from me if I have to treat you during a game, you don’t want me to tape you up before practice, you don’t want me to put the dumb pressure leg things on you, you always glare at me when I smile at you, you don’t smile back at me.” Chase paused to take a deep breath. “So you hate me.”

“Bauer, I—,” Nate cut himself off with a chuckle. “Oh god, I did not imagine tonight being like this.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t imagine having to hang out with me because you hate me and I suck and I’m annoying?” Chase pouted.

“No, listen, I—,” Nate shook his head, “I don’t hate you, Chase, it’s the exact opposite, in fact.”

“You called me ‘Chase,’” she said, blinking in surprise. 

“I mean, that’s your name.”

“Wait.” Chase held a hand up, having processed what Nate said. “It’s the opposite? The opposite of hate is love and you definitely don’t love me.”

Nate shook his head again. “Never mind, Bauer. I’m going to get a drink.” Nate got up and stalked off to the kitchen, leaving Chase alone. 

The opposite of hating her? Nathan MacKinnon couldn’t possibly like her like that. He was much too, well, him. He liked teeny, blonde supermodel types, not loud former hockey players whose job it was to keep him healthy. No, not Nathan MacKinnon, who kept his specific regimens of health, kept his body in top tier condition, who demanded excellence from everyone, including her and her team.

Gabe appeared in front of her, clutching a new bottle of beer and a tall glass of clear liquid. “Can I join you?” He asked. Chase nodded, so he sat down where Nate had just been and handed her the glass. “Nate asked me to bring you water.”

“Because I’m drunk and told him I wanted to have sex with him but that he hates me?” Chase clarified.

“He didn’t give me specifics, but I’m sure that has something to do with it,” Gabe laughed. 

“Now he definitely hates me,” Chase mumbled. She sipped some water, but she didn’t feel any less fuzzy. In fact, she could feel the rest of the vodka starting to hit her and the idea of going over to Nate, who now stood chatting with Nazem Kadri, and kissing him was becoming more and more appealing.

“He acts like that to all of us. That’s just Nate. Whatever he told you is the truth,” Gabe explained.

Chase hummed. “Well, he didn’t say he wanted to kiss me and have sex with me too,” she said, her words beginning to slur together the tiniest bit, her brain working hard to put letters together. “He was stuck on the hating me part.”

“I can guarantee he doesn’t hate you.” 

“You can’t read his mind!”

“Neither can you. Look, Bauer, I’m guessing he said he had feelings for you, right? I can guarantee you he does. The amount of things I’ve heard him say about you matches what you’re saying.”

Chase looked at Gabe with wide eyes. “Nate wants to have sex with me too? Even though I’ll be bad at it because I’ve never had sex? He wants to—.”

“Bauer, go talk to him.” Gabe used his captain voice on her.

“I’m even drunker than I was before,” she commented. “Even with the water. And we can’t have sex when I’m this drunk. I’ll be even worse at it. What if I puke on his dick when I try to blow him? God, maybe then he’d hate me.”

“Okay, Bauer? Go talk to him.” Gabe got up and walked away before Chase could say anything else. 

Chase took a deep breath and stood up. Her legs felt like jelly and she could’ve sworn she was leaning to one side. She giggled at herself, at the fuzziness coursing through her veins, at the thoughts coming to the forefront of her mind. She made her way over to Nate, shoved herself in between him and Naz, grabbed his arms and looked up at him.

“Hi,” she said, realizing how close her face was to his face. 

Naz excused himself, and Nate looked down at her over his crooked nose. God, Chase wanted that nose in between her legs. 

“Hi,” she said again. 

“Hi,” he replied shortly. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I’m still drunk and I’m sorry I thought you hated me and that I said I wanted to have sex with you because I know we can’t have sex I’m drunk and you’re famous and we work together and you’re good at sex and I’m very bad at sex.” Chase squinted to try and focus on Nate’s face but it was very difficult. When did he have two faces? 

“I actually do want to have sex with you,” Nate said straightforwardly. “I think you’re smart and cool and hot and yeah, I like you. But I don’t think this is exactly the right time to do this.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to treat you? Cause you liked me?” Chase put together.

“Yeah,” Nate laughed. “I tried to keep you away so I could focus, but having you around the past two seasons has not been a distraction at all, it’s helped me focus.”

“Oh,” Chase said, standing there. “Oh.”

“So we’ll have this conversation again when you’re sober,” Nate said. “I think I’m gonna leave anyway, actually.”

“Wait,” Chase frowned. “Don’t leave yet. We haven’t even gotten to dance. I don’t want you to leave. I’m drinking water now and it won’t take me too long to sober up. Please don’t leave.”

Nate sighed. “Okay, let’s go dance.”

Chase grinned, took his hand, and led him over to where Cale and his girlfriend had resumed their dancing and loud singing of random songs that came up. A rap song came on, definitely one Nate had introduced EJ to, because it was on their warm up playlist. 

Chase turned around, facing Nate, pressing her chest into his. Nate’s eyes glazed over again as he put his hands on her hips, dangerously close to her ass. Chase wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his forehead down to touch hers, demanding his blue eyes meet hers. She ground her body into his, and relished in the small buck of his hips he responded with.

Nate let his hands slide down her body to grip her ass. His breathing was slowly quickening, his touch slowly tightening, as the song changed to another rap song and they continued their dance. 

Chase gasped when Nate pushed her away slightly and nudged his thigh between her legs for her to grind on. She immediately did, dragging the seam of her denim shorts along the length of his thigh. Feeling herself clench around nothing, she clutched harder to the back of his neck. 

“You like that?” he asked, eyes still drilled on her, a smirk dancing across his lips. 

“I’m drunk and you’re hot and I like everything you do,” Chase replied softly. “Please don’t leave yet.”

“When we’re dancing like this? Not a chance.”

She had no idea how long they danced, but by the time they stopped, she was sweaty and desperately craving more water. She and Nate separated and she hurried to the kitchen to chug water. Chase felt herself sobering up, the fuzziness beginning to fade, and with it, the confidence that had been flowing through her quickly dissipating. 

Nate came to join Chase in the kitchen to get water, too. He filled up a cup and drank long sips. Chase stared at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He put his cup down after he finished, his lips glistening from the water, and Chase made a split decision. 

Chase stalked over to him and kissed him. 

Her hands found his cheeks, tracing his playoff beard with her fingertips. His hands rested on her ass again, tugging her closer as she pinned him against the counter behind him. His lips were soft and wet and warm and tasted like beer. His tongue gently made its way into her mouth, softly dancing around hers.

Chase pulled back and looked up at his red, puffy lips. “Fuck,” she said.

“Mmhmm,” Nate replied, then pulled her in for more. Nate kissed her like she was his tether to the ground, like he was floating and the only thing that could keep him down was her lips. His fingertips dug into her ass, and she was sure she’d have bruises tomorrow, but she didn’t care. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue, then pulled away again, just enough to speak to him.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Chase whispered.

“You’re still drunk,” Nate whispered back.

“I’m sobering up.”

“The guys will have something to say. They’ll never let us live it down.”

“So? I don’t care what they think. They won’t even notice.”

“Chase…”

“We don’t need their permission. We’re both adults.”

“You’re still drunk.”

“And I’m still sobering up. Nathan, I’m good. I’m probably like, the equivalent of two shots drunk now.”

Nate bit his lip and looked over her head at his friends. Chase turned around too, and she was right. No one was paying attention to them. Everyone was in their own worlds. It was the perfect time to sneak away. 

“Fuck it,” Nate muttered. “C’mon.” 

Chase giggled as Nate clung to her hand and dragged her away, upstairs to one of EJ’s spare bedrooms. There were solo cups strewn everywhere, and Chase didn’t care to know whose they were. She fell onto the bed with more giggles as Nate turned on the T.V. hanging on the wall in front of the bed.

“Why the T.V.?” Chase asked.

“Well, not to brag, but I’m about to blow your mind, and I don’t want to get chirped for how loud I make you moan,” Nate said, his eyes darkening with lust.

Chase shivered, but said, “Well, the only competition you have is my vibrator, but I’ve learned to be pretty quiet.”

“Oh really?” Nate raised his eyebrows, then flopped on the bed next to her. He rolled on top of her, positioning himself in between her legs and said, “I take that as a challenge.”

Nate leaned down and kissed Chase sweetly, with none of the previous fervor from downstairs. He kissed his way down her clothed body, bunched her shirt up around her stomach, and kissed the soft skin as he unbuttoned her shorts and dragged them down her legs. She wore her only pair of sexy panties made of a comfy lace, and Nate dragged his thumb across the band.

“Nice,” he complimented. “Who’d you wear these for?”

Chase smirked. “Mikko.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.” Nate kissed her covered core and she jumped, making Nate chuckle.

“Nathan,” Chase said softly. “I’m nervous.”

Nate laid his head on her thigh, gazing up at her. “We can stop any time, you just say so.”

 Chase took a deep breath. “Just, uh, go slow?”

“Hang on.” Nate hopped up and left the room, returning a few moments later. He tossed an unopened box of condoms and a brand new bottle of lube on the bed next to Chase, then shut the door behind him. 

“Where did you get this?” Chase sat up and grabbed the lube, examining it. 

Nate shrugged, “I know where EJ keeps his shit. I’ll buy him more.”

Chase’s heart pounded as Nate repositioned himself between her legs. He wrapped his strong arms around her thighs, pulled her to the edge of the bed, then kissed her again through her panties, making Chase shiver. 

“You ready?” Nate asked. He kissed her again and looked up at her through his eyelashes. 

Chase took a deep breath and nodded, then Nate tugged her panties down in a swift motion, threw them on the ground behind him, and gently dragged his hands along her thighs. Chase watched him with bated breath, thinking he was going far too slow but also could go never fast enough. He ghosted kisses along her thighs, teasing her even more, and she pouted. 

“That’s some mind-blowing head you’re giving me,” she said, rather annoyed. 

Nate looked up at her, grinned, and rolled his eyes. He stuck his tongue out and traced it on the lips of her pussy, and she nearly leapt out of her skin. Nate chuckled, then let his tongue dip into her folds.

“Holy fuck,” Chase yelped. 

Nate swirled his tongue around near her entrance for a bit, clearly avoiding her clit, but Chase didn’t care. The simple gesture sent heat waves and ice through her entire body. Finally, Nate softly wrapped his lips around her clit. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Chase yelped again. Nate’s tongue massaging her clit felt incredible, in a way she’d always imagined but could never have imagined, in a way she had started to believe she’d never feel. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and gently sucked on her clit. Chase’s legs began to shake and she could already feel how fast her orgasm was racing toward her. 

“Use…use your fingers,” Chase gasped breathlessly. 

Nathan unlatched his mouth from Chase, then shoved his middle finger into his mouth. He slowly teased her with it, gathering up more of her wetness, and slid his thick finger inside her, lips returning to her clit. He curled his finger to massage her walls, keeping pace with his tongue. 

“Oh fuck,” Chase moaned, “oh fuck, I’m gonna come, oh fuck, fuck, Nate, fuck!”

Chase went sailing over the edge as her orgasm raked through her. Despite her legs shaking and her back arching, Nate kept his mouth on her as she fell apart for him. The constant stream of “fuck” that came from Chase’s mouth was so loud that she was grateful Nate turned on the T.V..

She finally came down, panting, and Nate slid his finger out of her and released his mouth from her. She grabbed his shirt and dragged him up to kiss him hotly, tongue immediately invading his mouth, tasting herself. Jesus Christ, he did what he said he would, and she was impressed. 

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” she breathed. 

Nate chuckled. “You did say earlier I was good at sex, if I remember correctly.”

“Jesus.” She was still trying to catch her breath when she realized Nate was still fully clothed, so she said, “You’re wearing clothes still. Let’s change that.”

Grinning, Nate stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. He unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down his legs, along with his underwear, so he stood before her in all his glory. He was already semi-hard, and he clambered back onto the bed overtop of her.

“Do you want me to like, do anything for you?” Chase asked.

Nate quickly slid his arms under her and pushed her up on the bed, closer to the headboard. “Nope,” he said as he moved her. “I’m good. Are you good?”

Chase nodded nervously. “Y-yeah, I think so.”

Nate reached over for a condom and the bottle of lube. He stroked himself several times before he opened the condom wrapper, then slid the condom on. He grabbed the bottle of lube.

“Okay,” he said, opening the bottle. “If it hurts, tell me. If we use enough lube, we should be fine.”

“Yeah,” Chase agreed. “I’ll tell you.”

Licking his lips, Nate squirted lube on his dick, which he then spread around with his other hand. He squirted some onto Chase’s pussy, and she jumped.

“That’s cold, what the fuck?” Chase yelped.

Nate chuckled. “It’s not that cold.”

“Maybe through latex it’s not.”

“Alright, alright,” Nate conceded. “Do you want more lube or is that good for now?”

Chase brought her fingers to her pussy, spreading the lube around and inside her. “I think that’s good for now, but I’ll stop you if I need more.”

Nate leaned down and kissed her lips sweetly. “Please do. Are you ready?”

Chase nodded, biting her lip nervously. “Go slow, please.”

“I will.” 

Nate straightened up, then guided himself into Chase. Her mouth fell open as he stretched her, slowly inching deeper and deeper. She flailed her hand until it found his so she could tangle their fingers together. His pelvis bumped hers, and she knew he was all the way in.

“Oh fuck,” Chase muttered. “Just stay there for a second.”

Nate did as she said, patiently waiting, looking amused as Chase tried not to squirm. Having him inside her felt so intimate, so delicate, and she never wanted him to stop.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, “move.”

Nate readjusted his position on the bed so he was laying overtop of Chase. He rested on one elbow, keeping his hand intwined with hers, then rolled his hips back so he slid out of her, then rolled them forward to thrust into her.

“Oh my god,” Chase moaned. 

Nate established a slow, steady pace, thrusting in and out of her so she could feel every inch and ridge of him. She felt pressure, but not pain, and it was delicious, especially as Nate’s breathing became heavier and heavier on her neck and lips.

“Does it feel good?” he breathed, nipping at her earlobe.

“Fuck yes, it does,” she moaned back.

“Good,” Nate replied, straining a little. “Me too, it, oh, fuck, you feel so good.”

He kept the same pace and before long, they were both panting and sweating.

“Nate,” Chase gasped, “more, I need more.”

Nate obliged, attaching his lips to her collarbone and sucking hard as he increased the speed of his thrusts slightly and thrust harder into her. He released her hand and began to rub her clit. Chase’s free hand dug into his bicep, leaving tiny crescents on his skin.

Suddenly, Nate sat up, grabbed Chase’s legs, and pushed them out wider, stretching her hips, but also allowing himself to hit a different angle inside her. Chase’s mouth fell open and she couldn’t even moan; the pressure of Nate inside her felt so good it overwhelmed her senses and she couldn’t think clearly.

“Oh, fuck, Chase,” Nate grunted. “Oh fuck, I’m getting close.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll come,” admitted Chase, “but I don’t care.”

“I care. I’ll take care of you, okay?” Nate’s blue eyes were warm and lustful and genuine.

All Chase could do was nod in response. Her head lolled over as she scraped her nails from his bicep to his back, digging so hard she nearly made him bleed, and dragged her nails down his back as he fucked her. She swore she could feel him in her stomach, but then it began to hurt.

“Nate,” she breathed. “Nate, stop.”

Nate froze and brought his hands up to cup Chase’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“I think we need more lube. It’s starting to hurt a little. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nate said, kissing her forehead. Chase watched, eyes hazy. He reached over to grab the bottle of lube again, squeezing some onto his fingers, which he then slid inside Chase. He spread the lube around and pulled his fingers back out of her. He squeezed more lube on his dick, stroked it to spread it across himself, then closed the bottle.

“I’m ready when you are,” Chase said and reached out to hold his forearm.

“Okay,” Nate replied. He spread her legs again, then gripped himself and guided his dick inside her. Chase’s back arched as he slid into her. She relished in the feeling of him, pressing her lips together. Nate leaned back over her and began to re-establish the rhythm he’d had.

“I’m sorry,” Chase breathed again. “I know you were close.”

“Shut up, Chase,” Nate breathed back, hungrily kissing her as he snapped his hips against hers. “I’m basically back where I was, oh, fuck.”

Chase placed her hand on the back of Nate’s neck. “You gonna come for me, Nathan?” she teased.

“Shit,” Nate said through clenched teeth. “Shit, I’m gonna come for you.”

Chase pulled Nate’s face close to hers and whispered, “Come for me.”

“Oh,” Nate moaned loudly, spilling into the condom, “oh, fuck, oh my god, fuck!”

Nate’s hips stuttered to a stop and he closed his eyes, panting. He kissed her sweetly as he pulled out of her, making her whimper from the loss of heat and contact. Without a word, he kissed his way back down her body to settle between her legs again. He licked Chase’s clit and she jumped.

“Shit,” Chase squeaked.

Nate slid his tongue down through her folds to her entrance, then pushed it into her. Chase moaned, hands grabbing at him until he offered her one of his hands. He moved his other hand to her clit, softly circling it, and within moments, he had her coming on his tongue, his name spilling out of her mouth.

“Oh fuck, Nate,” Chase breathed. Her body was exhausted and spent, and she didn’t know if she could move. 

“Are you good?” Nate asked, laying next to her and pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. “Can I get you anything?”

“Fuck, maybe a Gatorade?” Chase laughed.

Nate chuckled, “I bet I can do that. Let’s get cleaned up first, though. You know you should pee like, soon, right?”

Nodding, Chase said, “Yeah, but I don’t know if I have the energy to walk right now.”

“Need help?”

“I think so.” Chase was embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” Nate said sharply. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nate helped Chase sit up, then helped her to the bathroom. He pulled the condom off carefully and threw it in the trash, then took turns using the toilet and washing up. Nate went back into the bedroom and picked up Chase’s panties and his shirt. 

“Here,” Nate said, handing it to her. “You can sleep in my shirt.”

Chase’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sleep? Here?”

“I’d, uh, I’d like to wake up with you, but I think we’re both too tired to go home.” Nate smiled softly.

“Oh.” Chase looked up at Nate. He was dead serious. God, he really did like her, huh? 

“I mean, I can take you home if you want,” Nate added quickly.

“No no no. Let’s stay.” Chase stood on her tiptoes and kissed his nose. “But I definitely need that Gatorade.

Nate laughed, “I gotcha. Lemme get dressed.”

The two of them padded back into the bedroom, Chase pulling on her panties and Nate’s shirt, Nate pulling on only his boxers. Chase settled into the bed under the covers, grabbed her phone, and caught up on her notifications while Nate retreated downstairs for Gatorade. 

Nate returned with his arms full of Gatorade, snacks, and phone chargers. “I thought you might be hungry,” he explained as he dumped the contents onto the bed, “and I know my phone is dead, so I stole a couple chargers too.”

���Thank you, Nate,” Chase giggled. “You’re very thoughtful.”

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” Nate joked as he climbed in bed with her. He grabbed one of the Gatorades, cracked it open, and drained it. He grabbed another and handed it to Chase, who opened it and took a few gulps.

Exhaustion hit Chase. “Oh shit,” she mumbled. “I’m fucking tired.”

“Me too,” Nate yawned.

“Can I, uh, can we cuddle?” Chase asked.

Nate smiled at her. “I was hoping we would.”

Chase grinned, put her Gatorade down, and scooted into Nate’s body, laying her head on his chest. His soft heartbeat was like a lullaby, and she knew she would be asleep soon.

“Nate?” she said sleepily.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t let this be a one night thing.”

Chase felt Nate kiss her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be awake for breakfast.”

Nate chuckled. “Brunch? Lunch? Whatever meal we want when we get up?”

“That sounds perfect,” Chase giggled. “Goodnight, Nathan.”

“Goodnight.”

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon one shot #nathan mackinnon smut #nhl smut #nhl #colorado avalanche #nhl writing #hockey writing #hockey smut #colorado avalanche writing #colorado avalanche smut #avs

[offside-the-lines]

Only You Can Decide | Cale Makar

Summary: For her parents, Cassandra has always tried to be good— perfect, even. Just grin and bear it. That all comes crashing down because, at the end of the day, Cale is her fiancé— her partner— her future.

This was written for @wyattjohnston's Lowkey Lovefest 2k24. The prompt used: “Fine. Throw me to the wolves. See how that works for you.” Pairing: Cale Makar x Female!OC (Engaged) Word count: 3.4k ⚠️ Warnings: this is pretty angsty and features a lot of the OC's toxic parents and her struggle with them. It does have a happy ending though. The story is also slightly non-linear/features flashbacks. ⚠️ a/n: Thanks to Demi for also requesting such an interesting prompt. I would never have thought to pair the two and it was so fun to write. Thanks to @imperatorrrrr for always co-drifting the writing Jaeger with me (just a random Pacific Rim ref). Nobody show this to my therapist LOL she would be frantically taking notes. Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Cassandra sat in her childhood bedroom and stared at the blank white walls. Growing up, she never had any posters, or magazine cutouts, or pictures taped to the wall like the other kids. The walls remained always pristine. Plain. Perfectly presentable. She guessed it worked out now that her parents used the room as a guest bedroom.

There were obviously no tissues in here— she sure as hell wasn’t about to go find some— so she just wiped her tears on the sleeves of her sweater and tried not to wince at her makeup staining the beige cashmere. Fuck.

The thing is, she knew that this would happen. They had been fighting about it the entire drive over.

“Cale, we can’t just tell them. It’s my parents. You know what they’re like,” she huffed as he pulled into her parent’s driveway.

“I know Cass, and that in and of itself is already so fucked up. They shouldn’t get to talk to you like that. They definitely don’t get to talk to me like that,” he sighed.

“I don’t know what you want me to do.” Her cheeks were hot. She knew they needed to calm down before they went inside; otherwise, her parents would have a million questions about why they looked so flustered.

“Cassie, baby, we have to tell them. We can’t keep doing this,” he sighed.

“I know… I just have to make sure it’s the right moment, or it’ll be this whole thing. They’re just…” 

“And you have to set a boundary with them.” He reached across the center console and tried to take her hand.

She snatched her hand away, snapping, “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that. Look, Cale, why can’t you just fucking grin and bear it like the rest of us? Aren’t you hockey players supposed to have thick skin or something? Why are you being such a fucking pussy?”

Cale leaned back and just stared at her for a long minute; the oppressive silence in the car was becoming unbearable. She could see the tick in his jaw that indicated he was holding himself back from retaliating. The mounting tension was broken when they heard the front door open, and her mother call out to them.

Cale took a deep breath. “Fine. Throw me to the wolves. See how that works out for you,” he mumbled before he opened the door and stepped out.

Cassandra felt a wave of nausea roll over her. She barely recognized that version of herself, the Cassandra that was bitter enough to say hurtful things on purpose. God, she thought she was better than this— better than them.

She knew in her gut that it was going to be bad because they started off-kilter, the unresolved disagreement hanging over them as they tried to play nice. Anxiety had twisted her body like a coil, winding her too tightly. She had naively hoped they would just get away with it.

Things were fine until the second course. At the end of the day, her parents were sharks, smelling a single drop of weakness from miles away.

Her father was the one to pop the bubble, not even looking up as he casually cut his steak, when he asked, “So, Cale, you’re not still doing that hockey thing, are you?”

She felt him freeze next to her as her own knuckles went white from her grip on her cutlery. He took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir, I am.” Cale’s voice was so calm and even. Too calm and even.

Her father hummed as he chewed, looking between them appraisingly. “That’s a shame,” he finally said, “Do you have a plan for finding a real job when you’re done with that nonsense, then, son?”

Cassandra looked down at her plate and swallowed hard. She could feel Cale’s gaze on her, but the searing heat of shame traveling up the back of her neck paralyzed her.

“No, sir. I am still pretty young for a hockey player. I hope to play for at least another 10 years,” he said. She could see in her peripheral vision that he had put his cutlery down and was clutching the napkin in his lap. 

This time, her mother spoke up, “Oh honey, that seems a little silly, wasting all your good years on nonsense like that. A nice young man like you would do so well in a respectable profession. Have you ever considered investment banking? I’m sure Cassandra’s brother would be happy to tell you more about it.”

“Darling,” her father cut in, chuckling lightly, “Wall Street is cutthroat. Only the best of the best make it there. I admit, I don’t know much about Cale here, but I’m sure there are more realistic aspirations for an athlete. I guess he could always work for Cassandra once she owns her own veterinary clinic, isn’t that right, kid?”

Cassandra could feel the tightness take over her throat; her hands were shaking so much her cutlery was clattering on the porcelain. She put them down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“Cassandra, I expect you to respond when I speak to you,” her father’s voice boomed.

She forced herself to nod, her eyes darting around the table.

“Sweetheart, sit up,” her mother needled, “No one likes a girl who slouches.”

She felt her spine straighten stiffly without her meaning to. Cale shifted in his seat next to her, placing his napkin, which was clenched in his fist, on the table.

He clears his throat. “Actually, I have no interest in quitting hockey. I will never— With all due respect, Sir, Ma’am, you don’t seem particularly informed on the topic, so I ask that you please not make any comments about it. I am happy to talk about anything else.”

“Do not disrespect me in my house, son.” Her father slammed his own knife and fork onto the table; it made her jump, eyes remaining fixed on a breadcrumb on the tablecloth.

“I’m not going to apologize for making a reasonable request, sir. It seems my presence here isn’t wanted, so I’m going to have to excuse myself. Thank you for the meal, Mr and Mrs Wentworth,” Cale stated dispassionately. He stood up and tucked his chair in before pausing. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and quietly murmured, “Cassie, can I speak with you outside?”

Cassandra was standing up to follow Cale, who was already walking down the hallway when she heard her father command, “Sit down.”

Her body froze, halfway out of her seat. She watched as Cale kept walking; he didn’t turn to look back once. She tried to swallow down the mounting panic and willed herself not to cry, even as her vision blurred.

“I did not invest so much time and money into my daughter only for her to end up with some stupid, insolent, meathead athlete. Cassandra, I have had enough of this childish thing. Find someone more suitable,” he spat, “Now, you’re going to sit here and eat the food your mother made.”

She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the wet splash of tears on her hands clasped in her lap. She dug her nails into her palm and tried to focus on the sharp pain there instead.

“Cassandra,” her mother’s voice added softly, “I know you’re upset right now, but that’s temporary. Your father’s right; you should listen to him. We have lived long enough to know what’s best for you, and we’re just the only ones who love you enough to tell you the truth. You are wasting your time with that boy.”

She felt the words hit her like a slap in her face; it was enough to unfreeze her body and her voice. She sprung up, knocking over her chair. “Excuse me,” was all she said before running out of the room. She heard them yell after her, but she wasn’t listening.

When she threw the front door open, she saw Cale ducking into a car.

“Cale, wait!” she yelled, frantically running to him. 

He looked up, red-cheeked and teary; it had hurt that he looked surprised to see her.

“Cale, please— Please don’t go,” she cried, reaching out for his hand as soon as she was close enough.

He allowed her to pull him out of the car but only moved until he was standing in front of her. He reached up and cupped her cheek. She hated what she saw: Cale was teary and red. The rosy cheeks she loved so much meant something different at that moment.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip hard enough to taste the metallic bloom of blood.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

“Cassie, I love you, I really do. But I—” His voice wavered. “I have heard a lot of shit on the ice, but I have never felt—” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “Look, you are welcome to stay. It’s your parents, I understand, but I just can’t be here anymore. I’m just heading home, okay?”

“I—” she interrupted before he shook his head once, curt and resigned.

“I promise I’ll be there when you are ready to head back. We can talk about this later, maybe once we’ve both had some time to cool off and think.”

“Think?” she felt sick, the blood draining from her face.

“Cassie, if I stay, we’re— I’m going to say something I’ll regret.” He looked down at her with his eyebrows scrunched and jaw clenched tight. “I left the keys in the car, but please don’t drive if you’re upset, okay?”

“Cale…” she started again, but her voice voice trailed off; she didn’t even know what she meant to say.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss on her forehead before stepping back into the waiting car. “I love you, Cass. I’ll see you at home,” he said before closing the car door.

“Please…” she whispered as she watched the car pull away from the curb.

She unclenched her hands and watched the color return; the crescents her nails left behind were dark and deep in the skin. She flipped her hands over, inspecting them.

Cassandra knew it was childish hiding from her parents in her room. But then again— wasn’t she always hiding herself from them?

She took the ring out of her pocket and put it on her left ring finger. As she looked at the sparkle, she felt a fresh wave of tears crash into her. Her chest felt cracked open; Cassandra was sure at that moment that having an eagle rip at her liver for the rest of eternity would hurt less. 

She sobbed into her hands until the tears stopped falling from her eyes, wrung dry. The longer she sat there, the more her sadness morphed into anger. 

What the fuck was she doing?

Maybe she hadn’t realized before that she was making a choice, but at that moment, it felt crystal clear that she had made the wrong one.

Why was she even there?

When she couldn’t come up with a good reason, she finally stood up and made her way back downstairs. Everything had come into focus, and she had never felt more sure of herself.

“My god, Cassandra, you look an absolute mess,” her mother chided immediately, “Those stains are never going to come out of the cashmere.”

She stood in the doorway of the formal dining room, and she laughed a loud, hollow sound.

“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this anymore,” Cassandra retorted flatly. For once, her voice did not wobble. 

Both of her parents made affronted sounds, leaping out of their chairs, but she continued speaking right over them.

“No! I’m done. I do not deserve to be treated like this. I don’t care how much you’ve ‘invested’ in me. You can find your return on investment elsewhere. I’m leaving.”

“Cassandra—” her mother wailed, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Over my dead body,” her father snarled, stomping over towards her.

She shook her head and turned to leave. Her father’s hand tightened around her arm, pulling her back. She snatched her arm away; her heart was thundering in her chest.

“Do not try to stop me from leaving, or I’ll scream. You don’t want everyone to hear, do you? Because I will cause a scene. You’ll be the talk of the neighborhood. Wouldn’t really be good for the family image, would it?” she spat.

She had taken a few steps toward the door before she turned back, her glaring eyes flicking between her parents. “For your information, Cale is a better person than either of you could ever hope to be. I’ve always let you treat me however you like. I don’t even care; I’m used to it at this point. But not Cale— He is absolutely incredible. Not just an incredible hockey player, but he is an incredible teammate, an incredible fiancé, and an incredible person—”

Her mother squawked.

“Yes, mother, I said fiancé. I plan on spending the rest of my life with him. So don’t call me again until you’re ready to treat him with the respect he deserves.”

Cassandra didn’t hear another word they said as she stormed out of the house, slamming the door as she left.

The drive home was excruciating. She sat in silence, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel; the only sounds were her heavy breaths and thundering heartbeat. 

Cale was sitting on the couch, a duffel bag next to him, when she burst through the front door. She didn’t bother to take off her shoes as she sprinted to him.

“Cale, what is this?” she said, horrified as she pointed to his bag.

“Cass, I just figured— If you want some space to think, I can go. I called Nate, and I can go stay with him for a couple of days.” He sounded just as raw as she felt.

Her head spun, and she suddenly felt like the air she was breathing was too thick, like she wasn’t getting any oxygen. She fell to her knees in front of him.

“No! No, don’t— No—” she pleaded frantically.

“Woah— Woah. Don’t—” His eyes widened, his arms reaching out to lift her onto the couch.

“Please don’t leave, Cale. Please— Please don’t— I just want to talk, okay? Please— Can you— Just hear me out,” The words rushed out of her in a jumbled mess, catching in her throat. 

“Okay,” he said, “Okay, I’ll stay. Just breathe for a second.”

She tried to take a deep breath, but the panic gripping her chest made it difficult. He took her hands, applying gentle pressure as he rubbed circles with his thumbs on the back of her hands. 

After a long silence— it could have been a minute or an hour— Cale was the first to speak.

“Are you ashamed of me? And my quote-unquote unrespectable profession?” Cale’s voice was quiet, tired.

“What? No!” she gasped, shaking her head violently, “Of course not.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes!” she yelled. She caught herself and continued at a more normal volume, “Of course, I want to marry you. What are you— Cale—”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” Cale shot her a small strained smile, squeezing her hand three times: I. Love. You.— their silent message. 

“I’m sorry, Cale. Back at my— I should’ve— I’m sorry.” She paused and let out a shaking breath. “I love you. I choose you. And I will always choose you. I’m sorry that I haven’t been acting that way.”

“Cassie—”

“No. Please just let me get this out. I was planning this speech the entire drive home.”

He chuckled lightly, his smile more natural, “Okay. Go on.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “After you left, I was just sitting there, hiding in that god-forsaken room I grew up in, and it just hit me: what the fuck was I doing.” She looked down at their joined hands and fidgeted with his fingers.

“Growing up— That room—” She paused, shaking her head. “My parents have always made me feel like I needed to be perfect in order to be loved. I had to be the perfect daughter, following the perfect plan they had mapped out for me. And fuck— I tried. I tried so hard to be that girl. To make them happy. To make them proud. And every time I thought I was getting close, they would just move the bar. It was never good enough. I was never good enough. And I was never going to be— I will never be good enough to deserve their love and—”

She wanted to dig her nails into her hands, but his fingers were in the way.

“Fuck, Cale. Sitting in that room, I realized that I didn’t even want it anymore. I don’t want or need their approval anymore. Because you— You taught me what it meant to be loved without expectation, without conditions. I can totally fuck this up like I did today, and you are always there, loving me and ready to figure it out together. As a team.”

She forced herself to look up at him. It was hard not to get lost in his blue eyes, always so warm, always so constant. She felt herself send him a small smile. 

“I never thought that I would get to have this. To be loved like this. Or maybe even deserve to be loved like this. So I just— I’m sorry, Cale, for not having your back and for not being a team.”

“What about your parents?” Cale asked quietly.

“My parents— They are my past, and you, Cale, are my future. And I am never going to forget that again. I’m sorry for all the shit they said to you and for all the shit I said to you. I promise that I will never throw you to the wolves like that again.”

Cassandra was panting, her breaths coming out in wet hiccups. Cale pulled her in and enveloped her in a tight hug.

“Wow, Cass, I’ll give it to you; that was quite a speech,” he mumbled into her hair. 

It startled a laugh out of her— although it came out as more of a choked sob.

“Maybe we should’ve recorded it so you could just play that for your vows when we get married,” he chuckled in return.

He leaned back and held her face in his hands. He brushed his callused thumbs over her tear-streaked face.

“For what it’s worth, you deserved better than how they treated you. You deserve— You have always deserved to be loved without condition and without expectation,” Cale whispered, his expression so earnest she could feel herself welling up with tears again, “I hope I can remind you of that every day for the rest of our lives. I can’t wait to build a future with you. I love you, Cassandra. So much.”

“Maybe we should just elope,” she mumbled, a wide smile finally settling on her face.

“Okay, maybe let’s talk about that another day when we are a little less wrung out emotionally,” he said as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Fine, I guess,” she groaned cheekily.

“Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to marry you. I just don’t want to make any rash decisions you’re going to regret,” he squeezed her cheeks together, smiling as her lips puckered.

“Shut up, Makar,” her words came out all mumbly, “Stop being so perfect. It’s so annoying.”

Cale’s laugh filled her body with warmth, seeping into every single corner, and loosening the iron grip anxiety and fear had on her chest. He kissed her cheek and stood up from the couch, holding his hand out to her.

“How about this? We run a hot bath, and then we can see if any reckless things come of that.”

“Are you propositioning me, Cale Makar?”

He shrugged, “Maybe? What if emotional intimacy turns me on?”

“Oh my god, you are such a weirdo,” she laughed, rolling her eyes while she let herself be pulled up from the couch.

“Your weirdo,” he smiled proudly, wrapping his arms around her from behind and gently nudging her to their bedroom.

She felt the corners of her mouth tick up automatically, “Yeah, you are.”

Requests (open) | Masterlist | Join My Taglist

#lowkey lovefest 2k24 #rox writes #cale makar #cale makar imagine #cale makar fic #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #COL

[ladylooch]

First off, congrats! You’re such a fantastic writer and I look forward to all your posts! Could you write something about when guys do that thing where they use their body to their advantage? Like oh its crowded in this club? I’m just going to back you up against this wall with my big body since there’s no room. Or oh! You want a drink at the bar? Better plaster myself against you so the bartender will notice us better! Can’t reach something up high? Oh I’ll just stand literally right behind you and grab it for you! Just always seems to be in your space and you can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose (yes) or not but it’s driving you crazy that he won’t make a move until you finally get him alone and give him a taste of his own medicine. Use your favorite big guy!

A/N: Thank you so much!!! I had to use Miles for this one.. I feel like he would have no problem using his wide shoulders and overall big, boy body to keep you safe at a crowded bar…. While driving you batty.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Implied smut, a lil angsty?, swearing, jealousy

Your intention when you and your friend, Miles, walked in was to head directly to the bar. But the huge, U shaped structure is completely stacked with people. Grass and bamboo are lit up by multicolored lights from low hanging Tiki figurines. It is Saturday night in the Fall, so you’re not sure why you’re surprised to see it so busy. Your steps falter as your eyes scan for an open space at the massive bar. Miles puts a hand on the small of your back when someone tries to sneak between the two of you.

“We are together.” Miles tells the dude. Your heart patters heavily in your chest at the way he says it. For a moment, you even let yourself pretend it’s real. But it’s not. You and Miles have been friends for far too long and his taste in women is nothing like you. Why be disappointed and ruin the friendship when you know it isn’t going to work?

“Gotta plaster you to my chest in here, damn.” Miles mutters down to you.

“We should just go. It’s too busy.” Your anxiety is already starting to get the best of you. Your fingers delicately rest on the hollow of your throat, heart rate increasing below your touch.

“No, you’ve been wanting to come here and now we are. We at least need to get a drink.” You gesture to the wall of people you’ve come to.

“How?”

“Follow me.” He weaves your hands together and begins to assertively press forward. You are shocked at how easily people move for him. Miles flirts and smiles and appeases his way forward. Nothing about him is aggressive, but the sea of people willingly shift for you both to go through. He has this way with people. It’s why you fell so easily for him. When he gets to the bar, he moves to the side for you to slip through. “See? Easy.”

“Okay well some of us aren’t loaded down with muscle and 6’2.” 

The person next to Miles get up and leaves. He pounces on the seat and brings it over for you, gesturing for you to sit. You smile in thanks, perching yourself on it while he comes behind you. He is so close, you can feel the heat from his chest on your back. His pecs rub slightly against you as he reaches for the drink list. He skims it fast, then shakes his head. 

“These are weird ass drinks.”

“That is kind of the point of the place. They all come in tiki styled cups and have like edible glitter in them or the whole drink is smoking.” He shakes his head.

“Can I get a Coors Light? Or are you going to be upset?” You roll your eyes.

“You’re such a hockey player.” He chuckles, showing his toothless grin. His big shoulders shrug.

“You love me anyway.” It’s so casual, but your brain grabs the memory, tucking it away for when you’re alone later.

Someone wants to sneak behind Miles, so he moves even closer to you until his chest is plastered completely along your back. Your eyes close, savoring his warmth and security. The full touch of him eases the remaining anxiety you had when you walked in. The bartender, a blonde with a bubbly personality and perfect eyebrows, comes to grab your order. She’s instantly flirty with Miles, who can’t help himself and flirts back. You gnaw on your bottom lip in irritation, scanning the drinks. You try to read them, but nothing is connecting. All you feel is hot anger in your abdomen, twisting your intestines until you feel queasy.

“I’ll have a Coors Light. What do you want?” He rubs a hand along your upper back, keeping his fingers on your shoulder. He presses his thumb into the place he knows you constantly have a knot. His touch makes the bartender back off, settling more into a professional friendly than before. Only the slight falter of her smile indicated the switch.

“Um, I’ll do the passionate paloma.” You chuckle as you say it, pushing the drink menu away. 

“Great choice!” She walks off. Miles slowly glides his fingers down your arm until his hand is removed completely from you. Large TV’s fill the space above the bar that show cool, silent films of colorful, tropical locations. It’s all in ultra 4k HD. if you focus on it completely, you almost believe you’re there. The heat from all the people inside raises the temperature compared to the coolness outside in New Jersey.

“Cool vibe.” Miles says, leaning his mouth close to your ear. Your eyelashes flutter at the way his breath moves the baby hairs at your temple. Fuck, does he have any idea what this is doing to you? He seems so unaffected. Are the feelings really this one sided? 

A man squeezes into the small space left empty by the stool Miles grabbed for you. Your polite smile gives him a greeting, then you turn back to watch the bartenders hustle in front of you. You’re pretty sure working here would be your own personal hell.

“Wow, so many choices.” The man says, gesturing to the large, long menu.

“Yeah, I had a hard time choosing.”

“What did you get?”

“A paloma. I love tequila.”

“Me too! And they supposedly have high-end stuff that’s hard to import from Mexico.”

“Really? Show me.” He runs through the list, pointing out the three different tequilas he knows are hard to come by. His arm brushes against yours while you also feel Miles ghost his fingers along your other arm. You resist the urge to shiver, but goosebumps still dart down your whole body.

“If you’re interested, and up for being out late, I know this great tequila bar a few blocks from here.”

“Hey bud, your date looks kinda bored over there.” Miles cuts in, nodding in the direction the guy came. He starts to give Miles a “butt out” look then takes in his full, massive form behind me. He must think better of it because he doesn’t try to extend the conversation further.”

“That was rude.” I snap at Miles when he walks away.

“He was being rude. Why do guys think women are around only for their entertainment?”

“What? We were making small talk.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Well you’re behind me.”

“Here.” He taps your hips for you to get up. You stand and he sits down on the stool, pulling you onto his big thigh. You stumble a bit, needing to clutch his shoulder for balance. Your legs are turned between his and his wide stance supports your full weight easily. “Now we can talk.” He smiles. You stare wordlessly at him as his hand makes a home on your left hip.

“Here you go!” The bartender sets your drinks down, then rushes off to the next group. You hand Miles his boring beer bottle. Your drink is in a plastic coconut with a striped pink and teal straw. It’s garnished with a slice of grapefruit and a purple flower. You cheese excitedly at him, taking your phone out to snap a picture. You wiggle around a bit while doing so. Miles clears his throat, adjusting slightly on the seat with a heavy breath. 

“You okay?” You ask him.

“Mhm.” He takes two long gulps of his beer, then exhales heavily again.

“Why are you so weird tonight?” You blurt out.

“I’m not?”

“You are.” 

“Is that lipstick new?” He suddenly tries to change the subject.

“See? What is that!”

“I don’t know. I’m on edge a bit, I guess.” He shakes his head, sliding his fingers on your hip so they splay down your thigh more. Your stomach flip flops at the awareness of his fingers tips so close to intimate areas.

“How did your date go the other night?” Miles has been on and off Raya the last few months. Every time he is off, he spends every single day he can with you. But he inevitable goes back on to “see what new fish there are”. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does. Talking about this will easily distract you from his fingers.

“Won’t be seeing her again.” He rolls his eyes, sighing heavily again. His lips tilt his beer back for another long sip.

“Not pretty enough?” His eyes meet yours.

“No.” He drags the word out. “She was beautiful. Just… not for me. I’m off the apps again. For good this time.” You cock an amused eyebrow. “I’m serious.” He says, drawing a circle on your thigh with his thumb. “Gonna focus on finding something real.” 

“You’re great. You’ll find someone.” You hesitantly reach up for his hair, pushing his stray hairs back into place. Miles’ eyes close briefly before they open again, a little softer and sweeter. 

“Hey, my mom is coming to town this weekend. You around for brunch? Maybe dinner at that tapas place too?”

“Yeah! I love Cheryl.” 

“She loves you too.” He smiles. “How is your drink?”

“Good. Wanna sip?” He winces at the idea of tequila. “It’s good tequila. Not shit.”

“Ooooo that is good.” He murmurs after taking a sip. “Gimme more.” He sucks up another two sips before you rip the drink out of his hand.

“Drink your shitty beer and be sad.” You laugh. 

“I’m getting that next. Don’t tell the boys.”

You end up sticking around for another couple of drinks. The place eventually dies down a bit, but you both start to get hungry. At the end of the block is a pizza by the slice shop. You both grab a massive slice of their famous buffalo chicken pizza then decide it’s time to call it a night. Miles has practice tomorrow morning and is leaving in the afternoon on a quick, two day road trip. As you are walking back to your apartment, you still past a country bar where music filters out onto the sidewalk to you. Miles, a huge country music buff, stops you. His head falls back, groaning at the stars.

“I love this song. You have to dance with me.” He reaches for your fingers that have spent more time in his today than ever before. You listen, recognizing the slow cords of a guitar and the deep, steady tone of Luke Combs’ voice.

“And if your touch, shattered me like glass.” Miles sings. The hand holding yours lifts while his other wraps around your hips. He pulls you close, so your temple brushes against his jaw as he leans his head towards yours. “Even if I knew the day we met you’d be the reason this heart breaks…. Oh I’d love you anyway.” You can’t help but lean into him further. He reacts by tightening his grip on you.

You know you shouldn’t. It’s so dangerous to do this, but you still let yourself pretend.

You imagine this is a date. That when you get back to your place, he’s going to come in. He will follow you into your bedroom, clothes littering the floor, before he will lay you down and love you like the words in this song suggest.

 “There’s just some things that leave a man no choice.” Miles breaks through your thoughts. His voice sounds great combined with the cords of the song and Luke fading into the background.

“Get the fuck off the sidewalk, morons.” Someone snaps as they walk by, making Miles and you jolt. 

“Fucking Jersey.” Miles rolls his eyes as the guy continues on. His blue eyes glare at the man’s retreating back. You step away from his embrace completely, shivering at the windy bite that digs into your body at the disappearance of Miles’ body heat.

“I love this song too.” You say to break some of the tension away.

The rest of the walk is a blur. You’re lost in your thoughts, wondering why tonight feels so different. Miles has always been flirty and touchy, but this seems so different. It’s almost like he can’t stop himself from touching you. Or maybe this is all a hopeful illusion created by your love-sick heart and willing mind?

“Where ya going?” Miles asks, fingers lacing with yours to stop your next step. You glance up, realizing you’re at your apartment. He chuckles, tugging your fingers to lead you into the lobby. He holds your hand the entire elevator ride and down to your front door. Right as you pull your keys out, he envelopes you into his arms. It’s a deep, secure hug. You cup the large muscles of his back, breathing in the delicious scent of his cologne. It assaults your senses, making a happy bubble fill your chest and relax your body. This is too good. You’re losing hold of the reality that you’re just friends.

“Miles, you’re killing me.” You sigh, closing your eyes. You can’t help it. He’s been in your space all night and you are losing your god damn mind about it. Slowly, his head tilts down to stare into your eyes. The desire there is unmistakable. Blue, stormy waves of need for you.

“Please let me kiss you.” He swallows hard. “All night, I’ve been dying to taste this lipstick that I know is new.” His thumb ghosts along your bottom lip, gathering some of the color onto his skin. “I can’t stop thinking about why you bought it… or for who.” 

For him, of course it was for him.

You look up at his plumped lips, dying for them to touch yours. So you jump, leaping off into a life-altering decision before you can talk yourself out of it again. 

“I bought it for you.” You confess, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. You crash his lips to yours hard. His hand instantly threads through the hair at the base of your neck, cradling your head as he tips you back to deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls around your mouth, touching every bit of it with the wet muscle. A moan hits his mouth from yours. He pulls away, but you launch yourself further into him, not letting him catch his breath. You want him as breathless as he’s made you all damn night. Your arms hold his shoulders as your keys boop against his back.

Whatever you thought this would be like with him has been shattered to smithereens. It’s better. So much fucking better.

You’re obliterated by the taste of him when you pull away. Your eyes lift to meet his, not sure how you’re going to live the rest of your life knowing he tastes this good and not having him.

“I have been wanting to do that for so long.”

“Why didn’t you?” You groan, gripping his shirt into a fist.

“Because I love you so much and I’m terrified to lose you. I’m such a fuck up with women. You know.”

“You love me?” It’s breathless, unbelievable as you repeat the words he again, so casually just said to you.

“Of course I do.” He looks down at your fingers as he plays with them by your hip. He is so vulnerable. Your throat tightens, wondering if it’s possible you’re still pretending like you had been during your dancing interlude. You wait until he gathers the courage to look at you.

“Miles, I love you too.” Relief sags his shoulders and he goes in for another kiss. This one is more patient, taking the time to explore his new territory further.

“And everything else before this hasn’t worked out for you because you haven’t been with me.” You assure him, then tug him back down to your mouth with his shirt.

“I’ve wanted it to be you. So many times.” He murmurs into your kisses. You hold his face with both of your hands as your tongues tangle together. You can’t help but smile at his words. His lips connect with your teeth. He pulls slightly back, admiring your blissed out look below him. “You gonna let me come in? Maybe get into something more comfortable.” Your body stills. Oh my GOD. “I’m dying to finish Outer Banks.” You sigh, rolling your eyes and slapping at his chest. He laughs with a honk. “Maybe my hands end up in your pants. I don’t know.”

“They better.” You tell him, shoving your keys into the door and walking into your place. Miles begins to walk down the hall, taking his shirt off as he goes. You frown, pointing to the living room. “Miles, I don’t have a TV in my bedroom.”

“I know.” He calls down to you as you hear his jeans hit the floor.

Oh.

#Miles Wood #Miles Wood Blurb #Miles Wood X Reader #My writing #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #NHL imagine #colorado avalanche

[diningchairs]

this fucking interview from a few days ago where miles keeps listening in on ross and they keep making eye contact is driving me CRAZYYYYY

#THEYRE INSANE #it fits the fic im writing so well #like why are they acting like middle schoolers in their first relationship #also there was another interview where ross is saying that they’re rlly good friends off the ice and they have tons of inside jokes….ugh #THEYRE BOYFRIENDS #ross colton #miles wood #roscowoody #colorado avalanche #avs

[nylwnder]

i love you, grumpy | cale makar

gif by gabelandeskog

a/n: this a special fic for @gravestrain as part of @antoineroussel ’s winter fic exchange 2k23!!! sorry for the delay, apparently life had more planned for me than i would have liked, but better late than never! i must say i’ve never written the grumpy/sunshine trope before nor had i written for cale yet, so this was a really fun challenge for me! i hope you like it, elle!!! enjoy bb, hugs and kisses <333333

warnings: sunshine!cale x grumpy!reader, when the grumpy breaks >>, some swearing, just fluffy

word count: 3.1k

you couldn’t help but gain a great attachment with the small, kind and rosy boy in your kindergarten class. you were very socially anxious, which is valid considering you were being forced to submerge yourself in just the beginning of an insanely toxic social structure. and for what?

he made everything better. he was so sweet with you, it’s safe to say even too sweet. he almost always focused his attention on you, and you never understood why. when you felt like you didn’t belong anywhere, he would quite literally grab your hand and drag you everywhere with him. you always wondered why he wasn’t like all the other stupid boys playing soccer and bothering the other girls. why he always, at any opportunity, chose to spend every minute of his time with you. he invaded your space everyday with his blaring sunshine personality and even if you bothered him whenever you could, you knew you needed him.

so you and cale grew up together, and you two were always learning every possible thing there is to know about each other. that also meant that you two were going everywhere and experiencing everything together. you could list every single shitty thing that's happened to you so far throughout your life, but then you can also list everything cale has done to help you through it. and it goes both ways. cale often shares his gratitude for your ability to take him out of stupid situations, or help avoid them all together. he can be quite naive sometimes, which always makes you feel the need to defend him because you couldn’t possibly see him not have that fluffy ass smile plastered on his face.

he has come to know you aren’t necessarily the most exuberant person, which is also supposedly a reason for your incapability of keeping relationships (per a handful of stupid assholes). but cale, unlike the others, never minded. he always told you how he loves the way he can break you. since he has, making his favourite sight in the whole world: a smile creeping up on the end of your lips — it’s absolutely picture perfect if he miraculously gets a giggle too. if you must say so, nobody has had a higher “breaking y/n count” than cale himself. he just adds it to all of his other impeccable stats.

once cale left for umass, it was embarrassingly obvious how you began spiralling, and it presented you with an epiphany. the main point: you are a complete simp for him and it’s honestly disgusting. you can’t even say the exact day you fell in love with him, because there wasn’t a day that you didn’t. so in conclusion, cale is the only person you need by your side, because you are entirely positive you would go insane if otherwise. even if you sometimes act like that’s not the case.

so you drove to massachusetts one day to go visit him. that night, you two headed to a campus party where cale ended up quaffing far too many drinks. dragging his mumbley ass to his room, he slumped down and laid half on the bed and half on the floor. you gave out a small laugh, not without rolling your eyes, as he was trying his very best to tell you a story he could barely make out.

that was until he started muttering things about you. you stopped fixing his room and sat on the floor beside him. he turned to look at you, his head dangling off the bed now. “i wanna tell you sm’thing” you nodded, “what does your blabbermouth wanna tell me now?”

he giggled, before he spat out everything he wanted to say, all at once. telling you how he can’t get you out of his mind, how he misses someone waiting for him after games and practices, or the way you make fun of him, and your laugh, “oh that fuckin laugh you have it kills me y/n, in the best way.”

“i think the blood is rushing to your head.” you said, almost instinctively and you didn’t know why. your self-sabotage started to seep in, and you hated how you always made yourself feel as if you aren’t worthy for someone like cale to reciprocate your feelings.

but you were so grateful for his slurred confessions, as it eased your worries of looking like a total fool when you end up telling him what you came to say. he stared looking at you, waiting for your reaction. “do you hate me now?” he asked.

“no.”

“i should’ve just shut up. oh fuck no i messed it up, im s’stupid. ugh you’re always so right i'm such a dumbass. fuck-” he began mumbling, as he sat up and rubbed his face.

“cale stop.” you demanded. “you’re not stupid. you’re stupid for thinking you're stupid.”

“thanks” he said, softly. a pinky shade started to itch up on his face.

you turned to him and looked into his glossy eyes as he nipped on his lip. “okay. i miss you. i need you. i need you so much. i always knew that but i tried so hard to act like i don't. but life’s shit with you over here” you said, while you internally cursed yourself for the incoming wave of tears.

“nobody’s ever made me feel the way you make me feel. i’m not this bitchy, grumpy asshole when i’m with you. you don’t piss me off, not like you might think. no, i love you too much to think you're annoying.” you ranted.

you heard cale sniffle, as you looked up at him you saw tears falling down his face far more than yours — predictable. you laughed at him, reached for his hand and pulled him down to sit with you. “i love you, s’much” he said, as he pulled you in for a tight hug. and you loved it, feeling like you could just finally melt into him after discarding the weight off your shoulders.

cale felt the same. he thanked the far too many beers he had to give him that push. it didn’t end up going as he had rehearsed for years, but he didn’t lose you and he was so grateful about that. “it’s been a privilege that you let me accompany you through everything, all these years. i gotta say it’s something so very special to see you, you, oh you, let yourself be, you, with me. the really you.” cale told you, his head buried in your hair. you smiled, he wasn’t really making sense but you understood.

just as much as he’s always understood you.

—

it’s an average frigid and snowy day in colorado, and you find yourself cuddled up on your couch, watching a show on crave. you were wrapped up in the custom made quilt your now boyfriend gave you when you were both in middle school. it might sound corny, but god it was comfortable.

the freshly decorated christmas tree lit up the dim apartment. it was already mid-december when you were semi-forced to set it up, despite the fact cale originally wanted to put it up in november. cale was in the kitchen cooking up dinner for the two of you. you could hear him humming tunes to himself, something he often did which you love cause he always made sure to remind you, you weren’t alone. even if you teased him that you appreciated his absence when he was on road trips, he knows you always missed his stupid humming or his frequent whining, and yeah even his heart warming hugs that he would always refused to end.

he walks over with the bowls of food in hand. organizing the plates on the coffee table in front of the two of you, he can finally accompany you in finishing what you were watching. not forgetting to gently kiss your temple as he sat down beside you. and you may or may not have devoured his “classic home cooked meal, made with love” faster than cale himself, which he immediately laughed about since you had earlier mentioned you weren’t “that, that hungry”.

your pleasantly snug state started to diminish when cale mumbled the plans for tomorrow. “what? absolutely not!” you quickly stated, as cale made his way back to you. his team was hosting their annual family skate, which you often tried to dodge since cale always seemed to somehow embarrass you in front of everyone with your lack of skating abilities. and now, the catch this year? it would be in a huge outdoor rink.

“oh come on, everyone’s gonna go. it’s gonna be adorably decorated and… don’t forget you still need to learn how to actually skate,” cale says, booping your nose. “and, look, we already finished watching everything on our list, so we gotta make a whole new list and we can do that sunday.”

“no. no, look how cold it is outside! and i don’t recall being chilly in the cozy comfort of my own home.”

you fall back when cale tries to reach his hands out to grab yours. “i’ll give you the warmest hoodie i have so you can add it on top of the 50 layers you already habitually put on. i promise, baby ” cale reasons, as you try to fight him off so he couldn’t pull you up. you shoot him a look as he pouts at you, “you love hot chocolate, with whip cream. and i’ll make sure they have marshmallows too, of course.” he continued trying to convince you along with his sweet smile.

rolling your eyes at him. “fine.”

“fine? yes? perfect! oh honey, you’ll have fun, i promise. don’t worry baby.” he says, pulling you into his chest and kissing you everywhere. you scrunched up your face, trying to move the opposite way of his attacking lips. “you let me fall, makar?” you say, sternly pointing him down and giving him a warning look. he throws his arms up, his cheeks beginning to blush naturally, “i won’t, i won’t. never would. you know that.” you scoffed, “you better say that.”

as you made your way to grab some juice, cale sneaked up behind you. “wanna go to costco?” cale suggests enthusiastically, before snuggling his nose into the crook of your neck while wrapping his arms around your waist. you shook your head, “cale, you do know you’re literally the only one that loves going there. not me.”

“lies, you love their selection of snacks and you always eat allllllll the ones i buy. if you didn’t love costco, you wouldn’t eat their — well priced — stuff either.”

“i still prefer sam’s club” you unhesitatingly denote.

cale gasps, dramatically holding his chest as you look up at him. you moved your head down to pour the juice into a cup, and you couldn’t help but break into a tiny smile. he was such a kid.

“y/n, take that back” he whiningly utters. you walked to him, mockingly booping his nose “no”

but you couldn’t hold the smirk back, and cale knew you were just teasing, like always. even if you did hate going to costco, especially because of the impeccably large crowds and the fact that the promoted samples never seem to actually be ready to grab, cale loved it. and you know you always want cale to be happy.

—

the following day, you did not hesitate to grab the hoodie cale mentioned you could use from his closet. as you stand in the mirror, what’s accompanying the sweater and your puffer jacket, is a “heat tech” t-shirt, a thick long sleeve, some long johns below your fleece sweats and your long and fat scarf wrapped around your neck. you also quickly yanked cale’s favourite beanie from his drawer which was a compromise he was willing to make despite having to dig for another hat to wear.

cale couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of you struggling to put your thick boots on with your million layers. “i don't have to put them on, you know.” you taunted him. “no i’m sorry, i’m sorry. let me help you, here” he said, as he got on his knees to loosen the laces on each of the boots.

when he held one out for you, you snickered. “what? what happened?” he asked innocently, looking up at you. “i like it when you’re on your knees. specifically for me.” you say, running your hands through his hair and tugging just a bit. his reaction was predictable, his cheeks immediately turning flush as he cleared his throat and proceeded to tie your laces back together. you often take much enjoyment in getting him all flustered with your suggestive comments. he just looks really cute.

—

once you arrived at the outdoor rink, you found out it actually wasn’t as cold as you made it seem, but you weren’t going to let cale use that against you so you stayed with every layer you had put on. even if a part of you admits that you admire his cheeky smile whenever he knows he’s right.

before heading towards the ice, cale asks you if you want some hot chocolate first, as you noticed many other couples were heading to the little hut. you said you were fine, preferring the idea of smudging whip cream on his face after skating just in case he does end up dropping you.

sitting on the bench, cale helped you put on your skates before his. a few of his teammates were happy to see you. ej had a mischievous grin on his face as he greeted you. “just let me know when you wanna gang up on your boy.” he whispers in your ear, making you smirk and nod. ej was a gem, he always liked how you would affectionately bug cale. and he was always ready to help you.

“you better look like a stanley cup champion out there.” you tell cale as he grabs your hand. he laughed, “oh i will!”

gripping on his forearms, you finally step onto the ice trying to not immediately slip. cale starts skating backwards, as he lightly pulls you in to follow him, in which you do at a seemingly better rate than the first time he took you to a rink. continuing with the movements, and gaining more confidence on the ice, you mimicked some of cale’s skate tricks seeing where it would take you. you simper as you learned how to take a long stride and break on your own with a ‘t-stop’. and then again but with a ‘plow stop’. though, cale catching you before you could fall.

“see, you are having fun.” cale mentions as he smiles, turning to skate beside you again. “yeah yeah. whatever. i mean it’s more fun when you don’t fall.”

doing laps around the rink, you catch ej looking over at the two of you. so you tilt your head, signalling he could start to fool around. but before he could even make his way over to you or cale, your skate gets caught on a dent in the ice making you swing your arms, sending cale falling back.

he fell on his back, his head didn’t touch the ice — but you didn’t know that. “oww” he whines. you turn to him, softly chuckling at the sight of his sprawled out body. but then he closed his eyes, and held his hand to his head, groaning. “oh shit, cale!” you yelp, falling to your knees to look at him. “did you hit your head?? fuck i told you they should give out helmets here.”

“mm god my head is pounding.” he mumbles, trying to get up. “don’t get up, you could have a concussion. you should know that.” you tell him. he groans once again so you start to internally panic. you just pushed, and potentially injured, your boyfriend who has to go back and play in a couple of days. “shit. cale don’t die. fuck don’t die you have a game in four days and i can’t have your coach hating me for this.”

nate comes around, “hey cale, you okay?” he asks. cale doesn’t move, nor says a thing. you shake his arm, and nothing. “cale!!” you call out. he’s limp.

“oh god i killed him, nate. fuck i’m screwed. no cale wake up. please wake up. come on you rosy cheeked sunshine boy. fucking get uuuuup.” you whine at him, shaking his entire body as much as you can.

“BOO” cale yells, jolting up and grabbing you. you let out a tiny shriek, scrunching your shoulders and closing your eyes. he was in a fit of giggles. “CALE DOUGLAS MAKAR NEVER FUCKING DO THAT.” you cry out.

“i got youuuu” he mocks. you smack his shoulder, not as gently. he smiles, “it’s cute that you thought i died.”

“that’s not funny. i thought you smacked your head.”

“it’s kinda funny.”

“no it’s not.”

pulling him up, everyone else laughed at you two. ej truly surprised cale turned the tables on you. nate patted cale’s back before you started heading over to go get hot chocolate.

“two please.” cale orders before shaking off the snow on his pants. the lady hands you both your cups and you head over to the bench. “so you didn’t hit your head?” you asked cale quietly, looking at him with soft eyes. he smiled, “no, and you didn’t see so i took advantage.” you sneer at him.

as cale blew his hot chocolate, you scooped a bit of the whip cream and hid your hand. “hey, it’s pretty h-” cale began saying before you took a small sip and acted like you burned your tongue. you whimpered in pain, shutting your mouth. “hot it’s pretty hot. are you okay?” he asks, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

that’s when you lifted your hand and smeared the whip cream all over his face, cale gasped. “y/n!!” he exclaimed, wiping off what fell on his eyes. you started laughing at him.

“how dare you. i didn’t even let you fall”

“it’s funny.”

he laughed, despite the way he was still cleaning his face. “it is funny.”

“glad you think so.”

he grabs your cup and moves it behind him with his own, “that’s enough for you.” you still had a smile on your face. he moves his finger and dabs a bit of whip cream from his face onto yours. so you grab his blushy cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. his lips were warm and soft and you couldn’t help but feel all lovesick inside. “i love you” you murmured. “i love you more, grumpy”

[ join my taglist if you enjoyed reading! : click here <3 ]

#the winter fic exchange 2k23 #cale makar #cale makar fic #cale makar imagine #cale makar fluff #cale makar x reader #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fluff #nhl x reader #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey x reader

[reagantalkssports]

My favorite wag!!

#him wearing Nate’s hoodie #have some decorum why don’t you #you can’t write this shit #sidney crosby #colorado avalanche #nhl #avs #nathan mackinnon #nate dogg #nhl all star 2024 #sid the kid #avs wags

[blueskrugs]

Written in the Sand | Tyson Jost

it’s finally here! I started this fic in September, thinking it would be a cute couple thousand words, and then finally finished it four months and almost 30,000 words later. 

huge thank you to @antoineroussel​ who held my hand through a lot of this and also did the hard work of beta reading and editing all of this. 

recommended listening: Written in the Sand by Old Dominion (where else would I get title and inspo from?), Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, and The Dance by Garth Brooks.

length: 29.8k words (lol)

this fic has now been broken into chapters for easier reading 

Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

Tyson never meant to catch feelings. Really. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. Then it happened again, and again, and somewhere along the line it turned into regular hooking up. And, well, anyone would tell you that Tyson wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t long before he was falling fast and hard. 

Tyson looked across the couch at where she was dozing, wearing one of his T-shirts. His birthday was in a few days. He’d already resolved to ask her out for real before then. This stupid not-quite-friends-with-benefits shit was getting old. It needed to end one way or another, for Tyson’s sanity—and his heart. If he was going to get his heart broken anyway, why prolong the inevitable?

But he was getting ahead of himself. 

November

It’s early in the season, too early to be celebrating wins the way they are. But they blew out the Canucks and the Sharks in consecutive games and don’t have another one for four days, so Gabe dragged them all out to a bar. There’s something special about this team, Tyson can feel it, and so can the rest of the guys.

Which is how Tyson finds himself a couple beers and a shot or two deep on a Saturday night in November, with JT squished against his side in the booth. The team is extra loud to account for the fact that they’re in a crowded bar; EJ is across the table chirping Andre about something or other. Tyson settles in and takes another drink of his beer. 

JT elbows him in the ribs. Tyson elbows him back harder on principle. 

“No, idiot, there’s a cute girl over there,” JT says.

“You have a girlfriend,” Tyson says, not following. He tries to figure out which girl JT is talking about, but there’s a lot of girls in the bar. 

“You don’t,” JT points out, and, oh. 

“I’m not really looking for anything,” Tyson says, because it’s true. Especially not some hookup with a girl in a bar. He doesn’t really roll that way. He really wants to focus on having a good season here. He still doesn’t know which girl JT is talking about.

Gabe, the nosy asshole, leans over Cale to give his two cents. “Josty, I think you need another beer.”

Tyson glares at his unfortunately almost-empty beer bottle. He glances over at the bar again. This time, a girl catches his eye and gives him a small smile over her friend’s shoulder. She is kind of cute, Tyson supposes. Tyson heaves a sigh and elbows JT again to force him out of the booth. A small cheer goes up. He flips them off without turning around. 

It’s even more crowded at the bar, but Tyson manages to squeeze in near the girl and lean against the bar while he waits for a bartender. The person on his left leaves with their drink, and then he’s next to the girl. He wishes he knew her name. She smiles at him again. 

He’s about to lean in and introduce himself when a bartender comes over and asks for his order. She’s smirking at him when he turns back.

“All the beers in the world, and you’re drinking Coors?” she asks. She has to lean in close to be heard, and Tyson doesn’t mind it. He makes an outraged noise, which only makes her grin grow. “I’m Madison,” she says. 

“Listen, Madison,” Tyson starts, but he doesn’t actually have a great argument. He’s just not very picky when it comes to beers. He closes his mouth. Madison laughs at him and takes a sip of her drink. “And what’re you drinking, huh?” Something with a lime wedge on it. Red, maybe. The dim lighting makes it extra hard to see colors.

“All beer is gross, first of all,” she says. “Second of all, it’s a vodka cran.”

“Can I buy you another?” Tyson asks. Her glass is less vodka cran and more ice at this point.

On Madison’s other side, her friend groans. Tyson probably deserves that. Madison rolls her eyes at him. He deserves that, too.

“Real smooth,” she says. Tyson winks at her. “I don’t even know your name,” she points out. Oh, yeah.

“I’m Tyson,” he says. He sticks out a hand for handshake, and Madison takes it, though she raises an eyebrow and laughs at him again as she does it. 

“Okay, Tyson,” Madison says, “you can buy me a drink.” Tyson thinks she sounds amused. 

Tyson fist pumps and turns back to catch the attention of one of the bartenders again. 

Drinks procured, Tyson loses track of time as he chats with Madison, as much as they can over the din and constant jostling. By the time they’re both finished, Madison’s pressed close to Tyson’s side. She’s looking up at him expectantly. 

Fuck it, Tyson thinks. He leans close and settles a hand on Madison’s hip. “Can I take you home?” he asks.

Madison slides a hand around the back of his neck. Her nails scratch the curls at the nape of his neck, and Tyson suppresses a shiver in a warm, crowded bar. 

“God, I thought you were never going to ask,” she says. 

Some of the guys are still posted up at tables in the corner. He’d forgotten about them. He hears a few jeers over the din of the crowd, and he flips them off with the hand that’s not clutching one of Madison’s. 

“Friends of yours?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at the cluster of rowdy hockey players, letting Tyson drag her towards the door.

“Unfortunately,” Tyson says, once they’re safely out the door, and he can talk at a normal volume again. “Can I kiss you?” he blurts, pausing in trying to fish his car keys out of his pocket.

Madison laughs again, but it’s not mean. Tyson likes it, the way she already seems comfortable teasing him. She doesn’t answer, instead just slides her hand around Tyson’s neck again and pulls him down to kiss her. Tyson’s dizzy with the feeling of her lips warm against his, there in the middle of the sidewalk. He makes himself pull away.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Madison lets Tyson keep a hand on her thigh as he drives, edging up under the hem of her shorts. He’s dying to be able to kiss her again. She lets him as soon as she’s out of the car and pressed up against the passenger door. Then again, in the elevator until they’re both breathless, and even more once they’re safely inside Tyson’s apartment. Against the front door, tripping over themselves down the hallway, and, finally, finally, twisted up in Tyson’s sheets. 

Madison stirs next to Tyson, knocking him out of his bask in the afterglow. Her hair, once nicely curled, is a mess. Tyson’s probably doesn’t look much better, actually.

“I should go,” she whispers.

Tyson wants to argue. To tell her she can stay. But that’s too much, too strange. He rolls over to kiss her again, instead. She pushes him away with a soft giggle.

“Not helping,” she says. She sits up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, course,” Tyson says, nodding too hard. Madison slips out of bed and collects her clothes. If Tyson watches her ass as she goes, who’s to blame him?

He’s dozing when she re-emerges, fully dressed and a little less disheveled. 

“Can I get your phone number?” Tyson asks without thinking. That’s not what this was supposed to be. He told JT he wasn’t looking for anything just a few hours ago. He just knows he wants to see Madison again.

She hesitates. Tyson understands. 

“I’d really like to see you again,” Tyson says, maybe too honest for a hookup, but it’s late. He can’t be blamed for the things he says after 1 AM. “And it’s late, I’d sleep better if I know you got home okay.”

Tyson can see the moment she gives in. Madison sighs and steps closer to the bed, but there’s something soft in her eyes when she looks at Tyson. 

“Where’s your phone?” she asks. Tyson reaches for his bedside table out of habit. His phone never made it there in their haste to get into bed. He turns back to face Madison, sheepish.

“I don’t know, actually.” Probably still in the back pocket of his jeans, but he can’t remember if he stopped to take it out and set it somewhere, either. 

Madison sighs at him again and shakes her head. Tyson watches as she scoops his jeans off the floor and digs through them before coming up with his phone. He probably should have done that himself, but Madison tosses it at him before he can push the sheets away from where they’re pooling at his waist. Tyson isn’t expecting it and fumbles the phone. He has to dig it back out before he can unlock it and toss it back to Madison. 

She catches it with ease, and Tyson sticks his tongue out at her. Show-off. She ignores him, thumb swiping idly through his apps until she finds his contacts. She types for a moment, oddly serious. Her own phone vibrates in her other hand. She throws the phone back at Tyson. He doesn’t drop it this time. 

He unlocks his phone to see that Madison’s made herself a contact—just her first name and a smiley face typed out— and texted herself—a little blue bubble that just says, tyson.

She checks her phone again. “I really should go,” she says softly. “My ride’s here,” she adds.

“Wait,” Tyson says. He reaches out a hand, wraps his fingers around her wrist when she steps closer and tugs her down so he can kiss her one last time. “‘Kay, now you can go,” he whispers.

Madison cups his cheek and gives him one quick peck, then she’s out the door.

Tyson’s not quite asleep when his phone vibrates next to him, and she slaps at it, squinting at it in the dark. A text from Madison reads, home x. Tyson falls asleep smiling. 

He almost expects that to be the end of it. He knows he said he wanted to see Madison again, but he’s not sure either of them are going to follow up on it. The Avs’ schedule gets busy—away, then back home, then gone again.

But it happens again. Tyson’s high on another win when he dials Madison’s phone number. It rings long enough that Tyson thinks she’s not going to answer.

“Hello?” Madison says, startling Tyson. 

“Oh,” he says. He didn’t think he’d get this far. 

“Tyson?”

“Are you busy tonight?” he blurts. It’s a Saturday night, he’s expecting her to say that she’s going out with friends or something. Tyson’s just getting home from the game himself. 

He’s surprised when she says, “Not really.”

“Oh,” Tyson says again. He pulls his tie off over his head and tosses it aside. 

“Tyson? This is a booty call, isn’t it?”

“Uh. Maybe?” Tyson says. “Is it working?” Tyson surveys his apartment. He’d cleaned before leaving for Dallas, and he’s barely been home long enough to make a mess again. Though, his unpacked suitcase is exploding in the corner of his room where he dumped it when they got in late the night before. 

“God, you’re so bad at flirting,” Madison says. Unfortunately, she’s endeared by it. “I can be there in like thirty minutes, text me your address.” 

Tyson fist pumps when he hangs up the call. He frantically texts Madison before going to change into sweats. He’s fidgeting restlessly on his couch when Madison calls him again thirty-six minutes later. 

“Can you let me up?” she asks.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says. He doesn’t bother with shoes, just swipes his keys from his kitchen island and heads downstairs.

Madison’s waiting awkwardly in his lobby when Tyson steps off the elevator. She spots him and grins when he waves at her. She wants to hug him, for some reason, when he approaches her, but that’s not what they are, so she settles for taking his hand and twining their fingers together when he reaches out for her. 

Tyson doesn’t pin her against the elevator wall to kiss her after the doors close behind them, but Madison can tell he wants to. She squeezes his hand, and Tyson pulls her into his side.

“Little excited, huh?” Madison teases, looking at Tyson’s feet.

He wiggles his socked toes and grins at Madison. 

“Well, duh,” he says. The elevator doors open again. Tyson all but drags Madison towards his apartment. He’s kissing her before the door is shut all the way. They stumble over to Tyson’s couch, and Tyson’s pulling Madison into his lap before he’s even settled. She lets him kiss her for a few minutes before she pulls away.

“Is this going to become a thing every time you guys win?” she gasps. 

“You know who I am?” Tyson doesn’t ask, resting his forehead on Madison’s shoulder to catch his breath. “You watch hockey?” he asks instead. He’s not sure it’s a better question than the one he didn’t ask. 

Madison twists her fingers in the hair at the base of Tyson’s neck. “Not avidly. I really didn’t know who you were the first time, but my friends and I were out the other night, and I saw you on TV.” She tugs a little on his hair, and Tyson tilts his head back to look at her. She’s watching his face closely, waiting for his reaction.

Tyson’s relieved, in a weird way, that she didn’t know who he was when they hooked up the first time. He’s just not sure how he feels now that she’s back in his lap, and evidently knows he plays for the Avalanche. Madison’s unwavering, looking steadily back at Tyson. 

“What, so you’re just fucking me because I’m a hockey player now?” he jokes, or tries to joke. He thinks it falls flat.

Madison laughs. “No, you idiot, I’m fucking you because you’re kinda cute.” She rolls her eyes, and Tyson pouts a little. “I told you, I didn’t know who you were the first time. I’m not chasing anything, Tys. Besides, if I were chasing hockey players, I’m sure there are single Avs players who score more goals,” she teases.

“Hey, I scored a goal tonight!” Tyson protests. 

“I know, baby,” she says, kissing him quickly. 

“Did you look up my stats?” Tyson asks, distracted. 

“I like you, okay?” Madison says, ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be here for any other reason.”

Tyson has to kiss her again. They don’t end up making it to the bedroom. 

“Do you have to go?” Tyson whines, watching Madison sit up and search for her clothes. Tyson thinks her T-shirt ended up behind his couch.

Madison pauses. Tyson’s curls are a disaster, and Madison kind of wants to mess them up more. “And what exactly would we do if I stayed?” she asks, eyebrows raised. She threads her fingers into Tyson’s hair, tugs once, because she can. 

Tyson blushes a little. “I dunno, watch a movie?” Madison makes a face. Tyson’s phone got buried in the couch cushions, and he fishes it out to look at the time. “Okay, I guess it is kinda late.” Tyson’s stomach growls. “Do you want to order pizza?” he asks instead. 

Madison finds her shirt and checks the time on her own phone. “I really should get home,” she says, apologetic. “I hate getting Ubers late at night.” 

“You can spend the night,” Tyson says without thinking. At the look on Madison’s face, he says instead, ”Or, I could drive you home. Whatever.” 

“‘Whatever,’” Madison scoffs, shaking her head. But she grins at Tyson and pulls her shirt over her head. Tyson briefly mourns the loss of her bare chest. “I guess I could go for pizza,” she says. 

“Wait, for real?” Tyson asks. He realizes he probably sounds too eager. 

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Madison warns, but her smile is playful. 

She’s still standing next to the couch, and Tyson has to pull her back into his lap. She giggles as she settles across Tyson’s thighs. He kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before she turns her head and captures his lips with her own. They kiss for long minutes, Tyson doesn’t know, time slowed down and unimportant. That is, until Tyson remembers he’s hungry and has to pull away. 

“Pizza?” he asks, somewhat nonsensically, panting a little. 

Madison kisses him again. Tyson tightens his grip on her hips, but pushes her away. “As long as you order pepperoni.” She slides off Tyson’s lap and slumps onto the couch next to Tyson.

Madison suddenly realizes that she’s tired, her eyes feeling heavy as she watches Tyson order pizza. She considers for a second, before carefully poking him in the ribs with her toes. Tyson doesn’t flinch. Madison stretches and settles with one of her feet across Tyson’s lap. He drops his hand to her ankle without looking down, thumb rubbing small circles across the bone absently. Madison closes her eyes and dozes. 

She’s woken up again by Tyson gripping her foot and shaking it. She’s melted further into the couch cushions, bones heavy with exhaustion. Tyson smiles at her.

“Pizza’s here, babe,” he says softly.

Sure enough, there’s a pizza box resting on the coffee table. It smells enticing enough to rouse Madison the rest of the way. She reaches a hand out, intending for Tyson to give her a piece of pizza, but he wraps his fingers around hers and pulls her to sit up. She leans into Tyson’s side. He laughs quietly and drapes an arm across her shoulders. Madison could probably fall back asleep like this, Tyson warm and solid next to her. Tyson hands her a slice of pizza, and Madison’s actually too hungry to resist. 

Tyson turns on some show on Netflix while they eat. Neither of them are paying much attention, but it fills in the silence nicely. It’s cold and dark outside, the city of Denver sleepy, but inside Tyson’s apartment, it’s cozy and warm. 

It’s dangerous waking up next to Madison the next morning. It’s something Tyson could get used to far too easily. Madison’s still asleep when he rolls over in the early morning light. She’s rolled over to face him in her sleep, face soft and hair a mess. Tyson’s not sure what time it is. He should maybe get up, but he’s not in any rush. 

Madison blinks awake to find Tyson watching her. She rubs at her eyes and rolls onto her back.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she mumbles. She turns her head back to look at Tyson. 

Tyson grins lazily back at her. “You, duh.” 

Madison facewashes him. Tyson grabs her wrist and wrenches her hand away, cackling. “You’re the worst,” she says over his laughter. 

Tyson scoots closer and sticks a foot in between Madison’s legs. No ulterior motive, just wanting to be close. Okay, maybe a teeny bit of ulterior motive: Tyson’s toes are cold. He’d wheedled Madison into wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt before they’d fallen asleep. She looks like she belongs in Tyson’s bed. 

Madison watches Tyson closely as he settles back in. She tries to read the expression on his face, the small smile on his lips. She’s not sure what any of it means.

“So what next?” she asks softly. Two hook-ups and a sleepover does not a relationship make. 

Tyson knows what she’s asking. He runs through their upcoming schedule in his head. They’re about to leave for a week. That’s about as far as he gets. They can worry about all that later. All he knows that he wants, no, he needs to see Madison again. 

What he says now is, “Breakfast?” 

December

Madison doesn’t hear much from Tyson for a while after that. It’s not like she expected to, really. She knows the Avalanche went on another long road trip, and it’s not like they need to be texting each other constantly. 

Madison finds herself checking the Avalanche box scores after each game. Tyson gets two goals while they’re gone. Not that she’s counting, or anything. 

Tyson means to call. He really does. Or even text some. But in the air somewhere over Canada, he realizes he’s never actually talked much with Madison. He doesn’t know anything about her, unless you count what she’s like in bed. He’s never been good at small talk, or the talking phase. Which, when he thinks about it, is probably why he’s still single. 

It’s not until he’s staring down three and a half weeks of nothing but practices that Tyson picks up his phone again. 

Madison answers faster than he’d expected. “You’re not bored already, are you?” she asks. “It’s only been two days since you had a game.”

It’s only been one day since their last game, actually. Tyson whines into the phone. “Yes, I’m bored, okay?” Madison laughs at him. Tyson makes a face, even though she can’t see it. “We never get this much time off, it’s weird,” he goes on. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a smart boy, Tyson,” Madison teases. “Went to college and everything, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

That’s not to say that Tyson doesn’t have ideas, and he thinks Madison knows what he’s angling for because she’s not a fool. She’s really going to make him work for this one. 

“I mean, I guess I could watch some movies or start a new TV show,” Tyson hedges. 

“Watch The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogies,” Madison says absently. “Could get you through a good couple of days.”

Tyson takes his opening. “You could always come over and watch them with me,” he says. 

Madison groans, as if they both didn’t see where this conversation was going. “You’re terrible,” she tells him. 

“No, really, we can just hang out,” Tyson says. And if hanging out leads to other things, well. “Don’t you have teammates you can hang out with or something?” Madison asks, skeptical. 

“I see them literally every day”—Madison laughs again—“and I want to see you,” Tyson adds. “Really.” 

Madison pauses on the other end of the line. “Fine,” she says finally. “Should I pack a bag?” 

Tyson freezes. He hadn’t gotten that far in his scheming. Never considered Madison would even want to spend that much time with him this weekend. He’s quiet long enough that Madison says something.

“Tyson?” she says softly.

Tyson shakes himself, tries to get his brain back online. “I, uh, I mean. I guess? You can, if—if you want?” he stammers. It’s Friday afternoon. He still has some practices over the weekend, but the long break between games suddenly seems less daunting with the prospect of Madison staying over, staying in his bed.

“I’ll be over soon, okay?” Madison says. 

Tyson isn’t sure if he manages to say anything else before she ends the call. Fuck. He’s getting the sense for the first time that he’s in over his head. He isn’t so sure he minds, actually. 

The weekend passes quickly once Madison’s there, though Tyson swears time slows down when he’s with her. They do actually end up watching The Lord of the Rings movies—which Madison had proudly produced from one of her bags, along with several packs of microwave popcorn, which had sent Tyson into a laughing fit— in between falling into bed (or the couch, more than once) and Tyson dragging himself out of the apartment to get to skate. 

“We really should do The Hobbit first, since those come first chronologically, but other than the first one, they’re not as good,” Madison explains at one point, gesturing with a handful of popcorn. Tyson just nods. “And we could have probably had a proper marathon and watched all the movies, but that’s like twenty hours, and I figured you had other plans, anyway.” She looks sidelong at Tyson, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re kind of a nerd, you know that?” Tyson asks later, breathless from making out. He’s pressing Madison into the couch cushions, their legs tangled together underneath a blanket. He’s aiming for light, teasing, but he’s not sure he quite gets there.

Madison tugs on the hair at the nape of Tyson’s neck. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.” Madison’s smirking a little. 

Tyson absolutely does like her anyway. It might make him like her more, actually.

Madison’s standing at the kitchen counter with the last of her coffee on Sunday morning when Tyson comes up and presses himself against her back, pinning her in place. He presses a kiss to the spot where Madison’s neck meets her shoulder. Madison tilts her head to the side some. With better access, Tyson drags a line of kisses down her neck and across the top of her shoulder.

Madison sets her coffee mug down on the counter with shaky hands before she drops it. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin. 

From this angle, Tyson can see the hickey on Madison’s collarbone from the day before. He’s got one to match, somewhere. He wants to get his mouth on it again, make it darker, make sure it’s there for days. 

Tyson feels it more than he hears it when Madison laughs. She reaches up and drapes an arm backwards over his shoulder, holding him in place as much as he’s pinning her. 

“Sorry, bud, but some of us have to get back to the real world,” she says. She doesn’t make any effort to move. 

Tyson bites her shoulder, gently, but pulls away. “Same time next week?” he asks next, only half a joke. 

Madison turns around and looks at Tyson. “Tyson, next week is Christmas.”

“Fuck, is it?” Tyson tries to remember what day it is. His family is coming to town this year. He should probably put some effort into decorating his apartment, then. 

Madison just shakes her head at him. Tyson wonders if his mom and Kacey will be able to look at him and know what’s going on in his heart. 

Tyson’s apartment feels empty without Madison in it when he gets back from practice later that afternoon. She’d filled in all the quiet spaces Tyson didn’t realize it had—a spare throw blanket strewn across the couch, her makeup bag overflowing on his bathroom counter, an extra set of dirty dishes in the sink. 

He misses her. More than he should, probably. Huh.

This was never supposed to be anything. Just a hook-up from the bar. Now Madison’s spending weekends at his place, and Tyson wants to see her all the time. He should’ve seen it coming, maybe. He’d never been good at flings. 

He thinks about calling Madison, but that seems like too much. He’s been told he can be too much, sometimes. He puts his phone back down, flops face down onto his couch for a while, instead. 

Tyson spends the next few days doubling down on getting ready for Christmas. He had, in fact, forgotten that it was coming up so soon, and he still needed to get presents for his grandpa and sister. He digs out his meager box of Christmas decorations and sets them up around his apartment. It’s not very much, but it does go a long way towards making the apartment feel a bit more like home. 

He holds off on texting Madison until Wednesday. He shouldn’t have; his family’s flying in later this evening. They’ll be in town all week, and Tyson might actually go insane if he can’t see Madison, get his hands on her again until after the new year. 

If Tyson ends up picking up his family with sex hair, well. They probably didn’t notice. He’d shoved a ball cap on, anyway, though Kacey still raised her eyebrows at him in the rearview as she slid into the backseat next to their mom. He’d flip her off if he could, but his grandpa is right there.

Tyson makes it through the holiday without an interrogation from his mom and sister, but he knows it’s coming. The blanket Madison had left behind is still laying across the couch, and Kacey’s been curled up under it more often than not. Madison texts Tyson on Christmas morning, a simple merry Christmas! with a heart emoji that has Tyson grinning stupidly at his phone. Kacey clears her throat loudly, on the floor next to Tyson. He feels himself blushing as he fumbles to lock his phone and drop it face down next to him. His mom and sister share a look over his head. 

Madison texts again a few days after Christmas, asking if Tyson wants to grab lunch and hangout. Tyson does, obviously, but he has to figure out how to dodge his family for a few hours, first.

“I’m gonna go workout, I think,” Tyson announces. He needs to find his shoes, a water bottle. He is restless, too many days off in a row. 

Kacey looks up from her computer. “Oh, can I come? I’m supposed to be working out over break, too,” she says. 

“Uh,” Tyson says, trying to stall. He should’ve thought this through better. Kacey raises an eyebrow at him. “I was actually hoping for some time alone, y’know?” Kacey’s other eyebrow raises. 

“Are you saying you’re tired of us?” his mom asks, teasing. 

Tyson’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Madison again. He hasn’t had a chance to respond to her yet. He hates lying to his mom, but he still says, “Yes? No?” Tyson’s never been one to need space. “I just—”

“It’s okay, Tys,” his mom says gently. “Have a good workout, sweetheart.” 

Tyson doesn’t linger, grabbing his coat and shoving his feet into the first pair of shoes he sees on his way out the front door. He texts Madison that he’s on his way in the elevator. He does pick up lunch for both of them, too, on his way over to Madison’s place. He’s thoughtful like that. 

It takes just about all of Tyson’s self-control to actually sit next to Madison on her couch and eat first.

“How’d you ditch your mom and sister?” Madison asks eventually, eyes still on the TV, playing some random Hallmark Christmas movie. 

Tyson swallows. “Told them I was working out,” he admits.

Madison turns to smirk at him. “Working out, huh?” she asks, laughter in her voice. 

Tyson nudges her knee with his foot. “It’s not entirely a lie,” he points out. His lunch is practically finished anyway, so he sets it aside and slides closer to Madison. “I think they’re on to me, though.” He never could hide anything from the people he loves. 

Madison swings her feet into Tyson’s lap. She’s still eating, and Tyson’s about fifteen seconds away from taking her lunch from her and just kissing her. His leg bounces—his restless energy has only gotten worse since landing on Madison’s couch—until Madison digs her heel into his thigh, forcing him to stop. 

She’s looking at him carefully. “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asks. “People knowing about us?”

Tyson considers. It’s not like there’s anything to keep a secret, really. He realizes that no one even knows that he and Madison had hooked up more than just that night at the bar. He hadn’t realized how close he’d been keeping them to his chest. 

Madison’s still waiting for an answer. Tyson squeezes her ankle where it’s still draped across his lap. “I guess not, actually,” he says. 

Madison grins at him and, finally, finally, sets aside the remnants of her lunch. Tyson slides his hands up Madison’s legs, underneath her thighs, and drags her into his lap, finally, finally, getting his mouth on hers. 

Kacey and his mom are waiting for Tyson when he sheepishly slips in his front door an hour later. Kacey’s smirking, leaned up against the counter with her arms crossed. Tyson could kill her. He tugs the collar of his hoodie up, hoping it covers the hickey Madison left on his collarbone. 

“Good workout, Tys?” Kacey asks. Tyson flips her off. Even their mom smacks her arm in reprimand. 

“Great, actually,” Tyson says, allowing himself a moment of smugness in spite of his embarrassment. He hopes he’s not blushing. Kacey laughs. 

“If you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend, Tyson, you know you could always bring her around,” his mom says gently. Tyson winces. He really hates lying to his mom. And he definitely could not just bring Madison around.

“Yeah,” Kacey chimes in, “I want to meet whoever’s got you sneaking around like an idiot.”

“She’s not—it’s not like that,” Tyson rushes to say. “We’re taking it slow, I guess.” He’s definitely blushing now, his face warm under the matching gazes of his mom and sister. He forces himself to shrug, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. “We’re just…friends,” he finishes lamely. 

Kacey and his mom pin Tyson with matching pitying, yet disbelieving looks. Tyson hunches his shoulders, nervous underneath their gazes. He thinks of Madison telling him that it’s okay if people know about them. Thinks about having to tell his mom and baby sister that he’s just fucking around with a girl he thinks he could fall in love with, given the chance. He decides against it, for now. 

Tyson shrugs again. “I mean it,” he says. “It’s not really anything right now. I don’t know.” 

He escapes to his bedroom for a shower and to bury his head under a pillow for a while, until he feels like he can face his family again.

The days seem to pass more slowly after that. Tyson works out—for real, thank you very much— and watches way too many cooking shows with Kacey, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the couch. Tyson doesn’t know the last time he got to spend this much time with his family during hockey season. It’s nice, even as he starts getting restless again, anxious to be back on the ice with his teammates. 

There’s a team New Year’s Eve party at Gabe’s. It’s pretty chill, especially as far as team gatherings go, but Tyson maybe has a little too much to drink. He’s surrounded by happy teammates with their significant others, and he’s maybe feeling a little alone. He cracks open another beer.

It’s almost midnight when Tyson sinks onto a couch next to JT and slips out his phone. No notifications. He doesn’t know what he expected. Madison had posted on her story earlier in the night that she was celebrating with friends, too. Tyson stares at his phone for a moment. 

miss you, he carefully types out. It takes him longer than it should to get it right, drunk as he is, squinting at his phone and concentrating really hard on hitting the correct keys.

Madison responds quickly, way faster than Tyson had expected her to. The typing bubble appears almost immediately. Tyson waits.

miss you too tys, it says. Then, please drink some water. 

“Who the fuck is Josty texting?” EJ yells from across the room. Tyson realizes that he’s been smiling stupidly down at his phone. He makes to lock it and put it back away, but he’s not fast enough. JT grabs Tyson’s wrist and wrenches it around so he can see his screen. 

“Who’s Madison?” JT asks, quieter than EJ. He lets Tyson lock his phone, finally.

“She’s—” Tyson pauses. He doesn’t want to say that she’s no one, because that’s not really true. He doesn’t have any other word for her, either.

JT’s been watching Tyson’s face carefully. He knows better than anyone that Tyson isn’t good at hiding his emotions, and something must be showing on Tyson’s face now. JT’s eyebrows raise. 

“Is that the girl you brought home from the bar like a month ago?” JT asks. Tyson hesitates, pulling his hand free from JT’s grasp. Tyson’s hesitation is enough. “Oh my God, are you still fucking her?” 

Tyson winces. It sounds crass when JT says it like that. “We’ve hooked up a few more times,” he admits. JT doesn’t need to know about the number of times she’s slept over, too.

JT laughs at him, shaking his head. “‘Not really looking for anything,’ huh?” he teases, echoing Tyson’s own words from that night in the bar. Was it really only a month ago? Feels like Madison’s been in Tyson’s life way longer than that, with how quickly she’s taken over Tyson’s thoughts.

“I wasn’t!” Tyson protests. He shoves JT a little for good measure. He’s so drunk he doesn’t think it has the intended effect. JT just sways back into Tyson, leaning more of his weight on Tyson’s side. 

It’s almost midnight. Around them, teammates are moving around, finding someone to kiss. Someone’s opened champagne, someone else is passing full flutes around. Tyson takes one when it passes in front of him. JT digs his elbow into Tyson’s ribs one last time before getting up to find Sydney. 

Tyson’s left on the couch, alone. He pulls his phone back out as people begin counting down around him. Madison’s text comes through just as everyone starts cheering and the clock strikes midnight. Happy new year Tyson! 🖤 

Tyson closes his eyes and drains his glass of champagne. 

January

Tyson usually dreads January. It’s a long, cold, and dark month. The grind of the season feels like it’s at its…grindiest. The game days and travel days start to run into each other and turn into one exhausting, never-ending blur. Someone’s always getting sick, or injured, 

He’s perfectly happy to throw himself back into hockey when the new year finally rolls around after so many weeks without it, but he hates how quiet his apartment is without Kacey hanging around, being annoying. He leaves his Christmas decorations up, anything to make his apartment feel lived-in.

Tyson lasts until the team gets back from Chicago on the fifth before he calls Madison again. She doesn’t answer. Tyson stares at his phone after it goes through to voicemail, bewildered. That is, until Madison texts him back and reminds him that she has a “normal job with normal hours.” Right.

Madison calls Tyson back on her way home from work. His groggy, mumbled “‘ello?” makes Madison smile when he answers, voice tinny over her car’s speakers.

“Did I wake you?” she teases. 

Tyson scoffs, but says, “...yeah. Sorry for calling you earlier,” he adds. “I’d just gotten home and wasn’t thinking.” “You can’t just call at 10:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, Tyson,” she admonishes. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just—” missing you. Tyson dismisses that thought. Too earnest. “I was just bored,” he finishes. Not much better, actually. 

Madison’s quiet for a while, focused on driving. She realizes she should figure out where she’s actually headed. “Were you calling for any particular reason earlier?” she asks. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget you,” Tyson says quickly. “I just wanted to see you,” he admits after another moment. 

Madison turns on her blinker at a red light. She should be turning left, towards her apartment. She turns right, towards Tyson’s place. “Did you want me to come over,” she asks, wanting to hear Tyson say it.

“I mean, obviously, yeah. I can make us dinner.”

Madison laughs. “Oh, sure, you’re gonna make me some toaster waffles, huh?” She had seen the Instagram stories. “You really know how to woo a girl, Tys.”

She can practically feel Tyson’s playful outrage on the other end of the phone. He sputters for a minute before saying, “Okay, I can order us dinner.” 

Madison’s almost to Tyson’s apartment building. She hates that she already knows how to get there so easily. “Are you going to get your ass out of bed and meet me downstairs?” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor, like Tyson actually rolled out of bed.

“I’ll be right there!” Tyson says, before hanging up. The radio cuts back in, music playing softly to fill in the abrupt silence of the call ending. Madison parks and turns her car off, sitting in silence for a minute. She wonders just what the hell she’s doing, what she’s getting herself into. 

Tyson sprawls onto his couch and pulls Madison into his lap almost immediately after they’re both through the door. Madison rolls her eyes, but she goes willingly. Tyson’s perfectly content to just make out for a while, all sense of urgency gone as soon as he gets his hands on Madison. He’s not sure how long they’re there before he realizes something and pulls away.

“Have you ever been to an Avs game?” he asks.

“What?” Madison lost her shirt at some point, and Tyson’s thumb has been fiddling with one of her bra straps for the last several moments. She’s admittedly a little distracted. She processes what Tyson said. “Tyson, are you seriously thinking about hockey right now?” She tries to roll off his lap, but he digs his hands into her thighs and refuses to let her move.

“I’m always thinking about hockey, a little bit,” he defends. Madison rolls her eyes at him again. What Tyson had really been thinking about was introducing Madison to JT, then he’d remembered that she said she didn’t watch much hockey, and somehow that’s what had come out of his mouth. Madison still looks a little bit like she wants to smack him. “I told my best friend about you,” is what he ends up saying next. “He’s actually the one who pointed you out to me at the bar that night, and he wants to meet you for real.”

JT had actually said that, in between chirps about Tyson’s hooking up habits. Some of the other guys had picked it up, too, but Tyson wasn’t ready to subject Madison to them yet. Except maybe, like, Cale. And maybe after a game at the arena wasn’t the best place to introduce Madison to his friends, but Tyson could get tickets for Madison and a friend, ask Mel to introduce herself or something, and then meet Madison after with JT. 

Tyson realizes Madison hasn’t answered him. She’s still in his lap, but she’s tense. Tyson squeezes her thighs again. 

“You don’t have to, obviously,” he says softly. “I dunno, I just thought you might want to meet the guys.”

Madison relaxes a little. “You really want that?” she asks. 

Tyson can’t help but grin at her. He kisses her again, slowly. “I do.”

Later, when they’re sitting at Tyson’s little table eating dinner—that Tyson did actually cook, thank you very much—Madison knocks her ankle into Tyson’s. Tyson swallows his mouthful of food and traps her foot in between both of his. Madison had gotten re-dressed in one of Tyson’s sweatshirts, and Tyson’s doing his best to feel normal about it. 

“So, did you have a day in mind for me to come to a game, or had you not thought that far ahead?” Madison asks. 

Tyson tries to run through their upcoming schedule in his head. “Uh?” They’re home for a lot of January. “Next Friday, maybe? The…14th?” He can’t remember who they’re playing, but that’s not really important. Tyson squints over at the printout of their schedule he keeps on his fridge. “We wouldn’t be able to hang around because we fly out that night, I think.”

Madison looks faintly overwhelmed suddenly. It might be for the best that the guys will only be able to say hi briefly, actually. “Sure? Whatever you want, Tyson.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Tyson reminds her. He feels a bit as if he’s thrown her off the deep end, even though she’s the one who pushed Tyson to tell JT in the first place. 

Madison shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, I just didn’t really expect it.” 

Tyson pulls a face. “Maybe I’m tired of keeping you a secret.” He doesn’t know what he was trying so hard to protect, now. 

Madison stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Tyson stares back. Finally, Madison drops her fork with a clatter and leans across the table to kiss Tyson. The fierceness of the kiss surprises him, Madison’s lips hard against his, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Tyson cups her cheek and tries to soften the kiss, but Madison pulls away just as quickly as she’d kissed him. 

Tyson blinks at her, bemused. He’s not sure what just happened. It feels significant somehow, something unspoken changing between them. Tyson turns back to his dinner.

Madison sees Tyson a few more times over the next week and a half before the game. Tyson acts the same, but Madison feels like she’s on edge, counting down the hours until Friday. Tyson doesn’t seem to notice.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear to a hockey game?” Madison complains over the phone to her older sister, Emma, who she’d asked to come with her on Friday. Emma just laughs at her. Madison’s seen what WAGs wear to games—cute outfits with leather pants and heels. Madison doesn’t own that type of shit, and she’s not really a WAG, besides. She doesn’t own a jersey, either, and it would probably be weird to wear a jersey that’s not Tyson’s anyway. Madison’s pixie pants from Old Navy and sensible work shoes aren’t going to cut it.

“What were you wearing when you met Tyson?” Emma asks, as if she doesn’t know they met in a bar.

Madison snorts. “Nothing that’s appropriate for a hockey game.” Madison regards the handful of sweaters she’s pulled from her closet. One of them is close enough to Avalanche burgundy, maybe. Somewhere in her dirty laundry is one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. Madison’s not bold enough to wear it.

Game day is overwhelming, to say the least. Tyson had gotten them good seats, but Madison’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s noisy all around her. It’s easier to follow the pace of the game in person than on TV, she learns, and her eyes follow Tyson whenever he’s on the ice.

Tyson scores a goal late in the first period, and Madison’s probably the one who cheers the loudest for him. 

Madison waits outside the arena for Tyson after the game. Her sister’s waiting in the car, telling Madison it was too cold to stand around. She watches some of the other players make their way past her and onto a waiting bus. It’s cold, and she hates Tyson briefly. It’s only another few minutes until Tyson appears, closely followed by someone. They’re arguing, but Tyson breaks off as soon as he sees Madison waiting for him.

Tyson forgets himself for a moment. He runs over to Madison and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her once. Madison laughs at him. He ignores JT snickering behind him in favor of leaning down and kissing Madison quickly. 

Madison’s blushing when he pulls away, but it might just be from the cold. 

“Nice goal tonight, babe,” Madison tells him. Tyson just shrugs. 

Behind them, JT clears his throat. Tyson kind of forgot about that part. He drapes an arm around JT’s shoulders and drags him closer. “This asshole is JT,” he tells Madison. “He’s one of my best friends.” To JT, he says, “This is Madison, be nice.”

JT scoffs. “I’m always nice.” He grins at Madison. “I’m also the reason Tyson went up to you at the bar, so I guess you could thank me for whatever’s going on here.” Tyson smacks him. 

“You can get on the bus now, actually,” Tyson says. JT’s laughing again as Tyson tries to elbow him out of the way. Madison’s smiling, too, though, amused by their antics. 

JT does leave, then, and Madison and Tyson are alone. Or, as alone as you can be with half of Tyson’s teammates watching them through the bus windows. Tyson steps closer to Madison.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says. Tyson barely did anything, but he’s not going to say that now. Tyson should really get on the bus, but he can’t tear himself away. Madison’s hand finds his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing once before letting go again. “Text me when you get to the hotel, yeah?”

Tyson has to kiss her again. “I will, I promise.” He really needs to go. One last kiss, pressed to Madison’s cheek this time, then Tyson forces himself to step away. Madison’s gone when he turns around as he steps on the bus. Tyson shakes himself and goes to find JT, flopping into the seat left open for him. 

“You’re in deep, bud,” JT says. Tyson glares at him. 

“God, I know.”

February

Tyson should be planning a vacation somewhere warm. That’s what most of his teammates are doing, with the All-Star break coming up in just a few days, everyone ready to escape winter in Colorado. What Tyson’s doing instead is texting Madison, trying to convince her to spend the week with him. 

He doesn’t understand why she’s being so resistant to the idea. She’s spent nights and weekends with him before. She’s spent more time around his friends, even sticking around the other night when JT and Cale crashed their evening. 

Fine I’ll just stay over at yours then, Tyson finally texts as a last resort. 

Madison leaves him on read for, like, two hours. He spends most of that time trying to figure out what he could have said to make her pull away so suddenly. 

Tyson’s this close to actually driving over to Madison’s to finish this conversation-slash-argument in person when she finally texts him back. 

I don’t think that’s a good idea either, Madison has texted. Tyson stares at it. Tries to type a response, deletes it. 

Before he can think much more about it, Tyson’s grabbing his car keys. He ends up driving aimlessly around Denver for a while before he heads towards Madison’s apartment. He’s worried he’s too upset to go straight over, that he’ll just start saying things he doesn’t mean out of frustration. 

He still knocks on Madison’s door a little too hard, maybe. She looks confused when she answers the door. Tyson realizes he probably should have given her a heads up. 

He’d planned what he wanted to say in the car, but what he blurts out instead is, “What, are you sleeping with someone else on the side?” Tyson could play it off as a joke any other time, but right now it comes out too accusing, too hurt. 

Madison’s face does something complicated before she grabs him by the wrist and hauls him inside. 

“What the fuck, no,” she says. “Tyson, what the fuck?” she repeats.

He crosses his arms. “I don’t get why you don’t want to spend the week off with me.” She’s already spent days at a time in his apartment. This week shouldn’t be any different. 

Madison’s always hated cuffing season, is the thing. Maybe it’s just because she usually finds herself lonely through the winter months. She’s not stupid, this thing with Tyson has an expiration date; if she’s being honest with herself; they’ve been pushing it ever since they extended all of this past a one night stand. With every day that passes, Madison feels herself falling just a little more for Tyson, and she feels the impending end creeping closer. She needs to put some space between them before she gets her heart broken.

She just doesn’t know that Tyson’s busy falling, too. 

Madison doesn’t know how to put all of that into words without blowing up her spot, though. She settles for saying, “I just need some space, I think.” It’s not exactly a lie. 

Tyson’s face falls, and Madison immediately wishes she could take the words back.

Tyson’s quiet for a moment before he quietly says, “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“No, God, of course not,” Madison rushes to assure him. She tries to collect her thoughts. “It’s just that, with Valentine’s Day coming up, and winter ending, I don’t know, I think I need to figure out what I want.”

Tyson forgot about Valentine’s Day. He doesn’t even know their schedule that far out. He supposes they have been hurtling towards something they’ve yet to define lately. But, “Hey, we’ve got a good thing going right now, don’t we?” Madison nods hesitantly. “Who said anything about changing that?” Tyson’s heart has other ideas, but he can worry about that later. 

Madison takes a deep breath. “I guess,” she says, and Tyson grins at her. 

“I’ll drop the All-Star break thing if you want. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He doesn’t spend a lot of time with people other than teammates. It’s nice to change things up. 

“Like you wouldn’t be calling me all the time to hook up, anyway,” Madison teases. Tyson can’t argue with that. 

He ends up sticking around for a while, sprawled across Madison’s couch with her tucked against his chest between his legs. Madison turns on The Hobbit, even though Tyson doesn’t think they quite managed to make it through The Return of the King the last time they had a Tolkien marathon. 

When he leaves later, pulling Madison in for a chaste kiss in the doorway, he realizes it’s the longest they’ve spent together without it ending in a hook-up. It’s kind of nice. 

Tyson does back off some after that. All-Star break is already upon them, anyway. He can handle winging it solo for a few days. Probably. 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t properly cleaned his apartment since their last long break back in December. The Avs have been home a lot in January, too, and his fridge is looking pretty bare these days.

He considers texting Madison and asking if she wants to tag along for his groceries, but he thinks that might be crossing the line of “too domestic.” He throws himself into cleaning and does his best to not think about texting her, instead.

It’s Madison who breaks the silence first. She lasts two days. She thought time and distance was what she needed, but that was before she realized how much she missed listening to Tyson chattering at her in between falling into bed. 

She texts, i’m coming over, before she can think better of it. She makes the now-familiar drive to Tyson’s apartment on autopilot. Tyson’s seen her text by the time she parks, and he readily buzzes her into the building. Madison doesn’t even have to knock when she gets to his door; Tyson jerks it open like he’s been waiting, beaming.

“Burky’s here,” he says, pulling Madison in for a kiss. Madison peers around Tyson. She hasn’t met Burky yet, but she vaguely recognizes the guy standing in the middle of Tyson’s living room as another teammate. 

“Hi,” he says. Awkward. Madison likes him.

“This is Madison,” Tyson announces, somewhat needlessly. His brain shorts out a bit after that, unsure what he can call Madison. ��Friend’? ‘Hookup’? Definitely not ‘girlfriend’.

“Tyson hasn’t stopped talking about you since you came to the game a few weeks ago,” Burky tells Madison, interrupting Tyson’s runaway train of thought.

“Hey,” Tyson whines. “You don’t need to tell her that part.” 

Madison laughs. “Nah, it’s okay, JT’s already told me.”

Tyson’s busy trying to come up with a sufficient way to threaten JT whenever he sees him again as Burky slips out the front door, and suddenly he and Madison are alone. 

Madison starts to apologize for showing up with little warning, but Tyson cuts her off, pushing her—as gently as he can—against the nearest wall and kissing her. 

“Hi,” he breathes when Madison ducks her head to pull away. He kisses her again before he can admit how much he missed her.

“I missed you,” Madison says, which. Tyson can handle that.

“God, me too.” Before, he might have felt overexposed by telling her that, but, now, it’s just comforting to know she misses him the same way he misses her. “I was actually about to make dinner, if you’re hungry?”

He starts to head towards his kitchen, not waiting for Madison to follow. He hadn’t really planned much further than deciding to cook, but he can probably figure out enough to make for two people. Madison leans against the counter as Tyson opens his fridge and peers inside. He could make chicken, but that’s boring.

“I did just buy burger patties,” he says, sort of thinking out loud.

“Tys, make whatever you want,” Madison tells him, laughing a little. “I’ll eat it.”

Tyson twists around to grin at Madison. “Be careful, you haven’t actually seen me cook yet.” 

He’s a passable cook, actually—his mom wouldn’t let him leave for North Dakota before he knew the basics, and he’s only learned more since then. He plucks the burger patties out of the fridge.

Tyson talks while he cooks. He’s not even sure what he’s chatting about after a while, but Madison listens intently to everything he says. She winds up sitting on the counter near him, and he keeps stepping away from the stove to steal kisses in between sentences. He roasts up some red potatoes, too, and digs his hamburger buns out of the freezer. “They last longer,” he tells Madison, sticking two buns in his toaster. “Also, don’t tell Nate I’m eating white bread.”

Madison has not yet met Nathan MacKinnon, and she doesn’t think she’d be telling him what Tyson’s eating for dinner on a night off when she does meet him, either.

Tyson spends almost as much time dramatically plating the food as he did cooking it. Madison pours them both glasses of wine. He finally slides a plate in front of her but whips out his phone before she can take a bite.

Madison groans. “Tyson, oh my God.” She hides behind her wine glass while Tyson takes a picture of their plates.

Tyson reaches across the table to pull Madison’s hand away from her face. “Relax, I’m just sending it to JT.”

Madison scoffs, “Sure, just JT,” but she sets her wine back down.

Tyson tries to sneak another picture of her, but she catches him. The artificial shutter clicks just as she smiles sweetly at Tyson and flips him off.

“Delete that,” she whines.

“Absolutely not.”

They continue to chat over dinner. Tyson drips ketchup on his shirt, and Madison laughs so hard she chokes on her wine, which sets Tyson off, too. It’s several minutes before they can collect themselves again. Until Madison meets Tyson’s eyes across the table and bursts into laughter again.

“What’s so funny?” Tyson whines, still dabbing futilely at the stain on his shirt.

Madison wipes at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing, nothing.” It really wasn’t that funny. “I think I’m just over-tired.” She doesn’t tell Tyson that she’s been worrying about him, about their relationship, so much that she hasn’t been able to sleep well.

Tyson frowns at her, anyway, like he knows what she’s not saying. He glances at the time. 

“Do you want to take a nap or something? It’s still early enough.”

Madison knows that if she falls asleep in Tyson’s bed now, she will not be getting out of it until morning at least, and, “I didn’t pack anything.” 

She doesn’t know why she was half-expecting Tyson to shut the door in her face when she arrived. She definitely hadn’t been planning on staying the night. 

Tyson frowns harder. “You can always wear something of mine. Unless…you don’t wanna stay?”

Madison pushes a piece of potato around her plate with her fork for a moment before answering.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay,” she says quietly.

“What?” Tyson’s so surprised he drops his fork. He snatches it back up and points it accusingly at Madison. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I want you to stay. I literally always want you to stay.”

Madison can feel herself blushing and she ducks her head so Tyson can’t see.

Tyson goes on. “Plus, it’s a Friday night, we can stay up late and watch a movie, then sleep in tomorrow. I’ll even make you breakfast!”

He’ll probably actually persuade Madison into going out for breakfast, but that’s an argument he’ll save until the morning. Tyson decides he’s done eating and pushes back from the table. He tries to clear Madison’s plate, but she glares at him and swipes her plate away. Tyson makes grabby hands for it.

“C’mon, I’m not making you clean up after yourself, you don’t have to.”

Madison shakes her head and holds her empty plate farther out of Tyson’s reach. “You cooked, I clean, baby.”

“That’s not—” Tyson’s so distracted that Madison snatches his plate and darts towards the kitchen. “Hey!”

He chases after Madison, who’s laughing again. Tyson loves the sound of Madison’s laugh, the way it fills his apartment. He waits until the plates have clattered into the sink to press up behind her. He kisses her shoulder, her neck, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Madison shudders and leans back into Tyson.

“How about neither of us clean up, and we go watch a movie instead?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.

Dishes can wait; Tyson needs Madison on top of him, like, five minutes ago. He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he loops an arm around her waist and drags her over to the couch. She grunts when he pulls her on top of him, but she’s pliant as he arranges both of them until they’re comfortable. He even pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Madison’s back.

Madison snuggles in, the top of her head nestled perfectly under Tyson’s chin. He had intended for some making out, but now that they’re there, he’s fine with actually turning on a movie. He’s pretty sure Madison’s eyes are closed already, anyway, her breathing already starting to slow down and even out. Tyson scrolls for a while aimlessly before he settles on something stupid he’s probably seen before. He keeps the volume low. He dozes a little himself, absently rubbing Madison’s back underneath her shirt. She mumbles in her sleep and shifts closer.

It’s late by the time the movie ends, and Tyson rouses himself. They should both move to the bed, but he’s loath to wake Madison. She’s cute when she sleeps.

Tyson nudges Madison gently in the ribs. She stirs and blinks blearily up at Tyson.

“Hm?”

“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Tyson whispers. He starts to move, and Madison makes a grumpy noise and snuggles back in. “C’mon, c’mon, it’s more comfy, I promise.”

He gets Madison up with quite a bit more poking and prodding. She’s unhappy with being woken up, and Tyson’s doing his best not to laugh at her. He nudges her towards the bathroom and gets a glare for his troubles, but she does dig out her toothbrush. 

Tyson roots around for an old shirt for Madison to wear. He holds it out to her when she emerges from the bathroom, but Madison bypasses the shirt and kisses Tyson instead. He tries to keep it gentle, but Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson drops the shirt in favor of sliding his hands along Madison’s shoulders, her ribs, down her hips. They’re not very coordinated as they fall backwards onto Tyson’s bed. Their feet tangle as Tyson tries to push even closer, pinning Madison to the bed as they continue to kiss.

Madison breaks the kiss to yawn in Tyson’s face.

He huffs out a laugh, and Madison whines again. “No more, or you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

He watches as Madison squirms around until her head is on her pillow. She’s already half-asleep again. Tyson leans over the foot of the bed and fishes around for the sleep shirt he dropped. He tosses it to Madison, and it lands on her face. She tears it away to glare at him.

Tyson’s even polite and doesn’t stare at Madison’s chest as she strips off the shirt she had been wearing and shimmies into his shirt.

He also wins the argument over breakfast the next morning, and triumphantly takes Madison to breakfast at Snooze. Madison’s grouchiness only lasts until a plate of French toast lands in front of her. 

They’re out of town the day before Valentine’s Day. It’s just Dallas, and they’ll fly home after the game, but Tyson’s not actually sure where the line is between him and Madison and February 14th. Romantic dinner is absolutely out of the question. So are roses, probably. Tyson still wants to do something though, which is how he ends up on the website for a local flower shop while he’s supposed to be napping after skate. He scrolls for a few minutes before he remembers that he’s colorblind, and he should probably enlist some help.

JT and his judgmental eyebrows are at Tyson’s hotel room door seven minutes later. He shoulders his way past Tyson without a word, settles next to Tyson’s laptop on the bed.

“Flowers?” JT asks. “For your not-girlfriend?” He’s still being judgy, but Tyson knows he’s amused a little, too.

“Shut up, at least I’m not sending her roses,” Tyson says, trying to defend himself. He flops down on the bed next to JT. JT’s already busy scrolling. ”You need help picking the right colors, don’t you,” he says, teasing.

“Maybe.” Tyson’s never really understood flowers—they all sort of look the same to him—but girls are supposed to like them. Tyson’s never claimed to understand girls, either. 

JT clicks around a few times before he punches Tyson in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up and peering over JT’s shoulder. “...What am I looking at?”

JT sighs. “I don’t know, some pink and purple flowers.”

Tyson squints closer at the photo of the arrangement JT picked. “Wait, is that a rose? I said no roses.”

“It’s pink, it’s fine.” JT tilts the screen away for a second. “You’re adding on a stuffed animal.”

“I am?” JT gives him a look. “I mean, sure.” JT turns the laptop back towards Tyson, and he dutifully fills in his credit card information. He has to hunt for Madison’s address in his phone, but then he’s pressing the confirmation button, and that’s it. “That’s it? That was easy.” 

JT snorts and shuts Tyson’s laptop. “Sure, easy after you asked me for help.” He facewashes Tyson. “You’re welcome.” 

“I’ll buy your coffee before the game,” Tyson offers, ignoring JT’s sarcasm. “Besides, you’re the one of us in a cute, long-term relationship.”

JT smirks at Tyson over his shoulder, heading for the door. “You could change that for yourself, you know.” 

“Working on it!” Tyson yells as the door shuts behind JT.

Tyson mostly forgets about the flowers after that, with the game, and the flight home, and crashing into bed and sleeping for almost ten hours. He hopes Madison likes them, hopes he isn’t pushing it too far.

Madison isn’t expecting the knock she gets on her door the next morning. She’s even more surprised when she opens her door and finds a small vase of flowers waiting on her doormat. There’s a teddy bear propped up next to the flowers; she hugs it to her chest as she carries the flowers inside. She has to set the teddy back down with the flowers to take a picture to send to Tyson.

She sends, should I be worried about a secret admirer? Tyson, eternal dork that he is, sends back the smirking emoji and the emoji blowing a kiss. Madison adds a selfie of herself hugging the bear and says, come cuddle?

Tyson probably, maybe, goes a little over the speed limit on his way to Madison’s. 

March

Fucking Calgary. Tyson’s face hurts. He gingerly sticks his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be, but moving hurts too much. He sits back in the passenger seat of JT’s car with a quiet groan. The training staff had been adamant that Tyson couldn’t drive himself home, and Tyson wasn’t really in any shape to put up a fight. JT looks at him sideways, something amused in the tilt of his eyebrows.

All this and they didn’t even fucking win. 

“Want me to call your mom?” JT asks. 

Tyson groans again. He really should call her. He knows she’s worried, and if he doesn’t tell her he’s fine—mostly— she’ll probably take the next flight into Denver to check on him herself. She’s pretty great like that. 

He should probably text Madison, too. 

What Tyson really wants to do is go home and pass out for about twelve hours. He’s already scheduled for emergency dental work in the morning, though, and then Tyson’s going to have to beg the training staff to let him play on the road trip they’re about to head on. He hasn’t even packed yet. 

JT holds his hand out for Tyson’s phone. Tyson fishes it out of his hoodie pocket and slaps it into JT’s hand. JT waves it at him.

“Unlock it, dumbass,” JT says. Tyson could grumble about how JT definitely knows his passcode, but he just takes his phone back. “And dial your mom while you’re at it, I can’t do it while driving.” Tyson settles for a disgruntled huff and does as he’s told. 

He only half-listens, eyes closed, as JT talks to his mom, repeated reassurances that he’s fine, and, no, she doesn’t need to come down, and, yes, JT will keep an eye on him. 

They’re almost to Tyson’s apartment by the time JT hangs up. He doesn’t hand Tyson’s phone back. Tyson cracks open his eyes to squint at JT.

“Need me to call your little girlfriend, too?” he asks. The way he says it isn’t mean, but Tyson bristles anyway.

“Not my girlfriend,” he manages, swiping for his phone. Not yet, anyway, or maybe not ever. Tyson’s working on it. JT lets him take it, but Tyson doesn’t miss the raised eyebrow he gets before JT turns back to the road.

JT insists on walking Tyson to his front door, then following him inside. Tyson’s too tired to begrudge the fussing. Plus, he does feel like shit, and it’s kind of nice, even if he’ll never, ever tell JT that. JT hovers in the bedroom doorway as Tyson kicks off his slides and faceplants into his pillow.

“Ow,” he says, gingerly turning back over.

JT snorts at him. “Need anything?” The trainers gave Tyson painkillers after the game, and it’s not like he can brush his teeth—or what’s left of them, anyway. He settles for flipping off JT. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll lock the door on my way out.” Tyson probably owes him one after this. 

He barely remembers to text Madison a thumbs up emoji before he falls asleep.

Tyson grimaces when he sees himself in the mirror the next morning. His jaw is swollen and bruised, and he can barely open his mouth. He’s not sure he wants to see the state of his teeth, anyway. A knock on his door drags him away from his mirror.

Madison knocks again, unsure if Tyson’s awake. She should’ve called, or texted, before she showed up. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot while she waits for Tyson to answer. It’s only another few seconds before the door swings open, and Tyson appears. He looks miserable as he leans against the door. 

“You look like shit,” Madison says. She waits until he steps back before pushing past him and inside his apartment. 

“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles, following Madison to the kitchen. 

She hops up onto the counter and thrusts one of the smoothies in her hand at Tyson. “Breakfast,” she says.

Tyson takes it and takes a wary sip. It’s his favorite flavor, and he takes a bigger drink. He’s halfway through slurping his smoothie before he remembers to say anything else.

“I’ve, uh, got the dentist this morning, then I’ve gotta meet the team to fly to New York,” he tells Madison. He talks carefully around his swollen gums. 

Madison shrugs. “Just wanted to check on you, bud,” she says. She sets her smoothie aside and holds her arms out to Tyson. He steps into her arms and lets her hold him. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in the crook of her neck. “Looked pretty rough out there last night.”

Tyson grunts. Madison pokes him in the ribs until he squirms away. He takes a petulant drink of his smoothie.

“Do you need any help with anything?” she asks. 

Tyson still hasn’t packed. His dirty laundry has piled up. He should really clean his apartment. 

Instead, he shakes his head, muttering, “You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked, Tys,” she says, crossing her arms. She stares him down. 

Tyson cracks. “I’ve just got a bunch of cleaning to do, is all.” It hurts to talk too much. He forces himself to shrug, tries to do the math on how much time he has before the dentist and before heading to the airport to get everything done. 

Madison doesn’t seem concerned. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“You don’t-” Tyson starts. You should just leave, he wants to say, but doesn’t. 

“Shut up and drink your smoothie, Jost,” Madison tells him. 

Tyson shuts up and drinks his smoothie. 

He goes to start a load of laundry while Madison tackles his kitchen. He’d run the dishwasher the day before, but what hadn’t fit had piled up in the sink, and he had never exactly gotten around to emptying it. More dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Tyson stands in his bedroom for a moment, listening to the sounds of Madison putting things away in his cabinets.

He doesn’t know when she learned where everything goes.

They work around each other in silence for a while. Tyson stops a few times and watches the confidence and comfort with which Madison moves around his apartment. He likes it more than he should, probably. 

He’s got clothes in the dryer when he realizes he should’ve left already. He’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, and he’s got more appointments for when they get back to Denver at the end of the week.

He looks around his half-cleaned apartment in despair. He’d managed to pack enough to get by, he thinks. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to borrow socks from JT on a road trip, anyway. Madison must see the look on his face, because she walks over to Tyson. He looks down at her as she places her hands on his hips.

“Go, I can handle the rest of this,” she says. They’d made good progress, but most of Tyson’s laundry—anything that hadn’t gotten immediately packed—still needs to be folded. “Just leave me the apartment key. I’ll finish up, and make sure everything’s locked up. Promise,” she tells him.

Tyson can’t ask her to do that, and he tells her as much. That’s like. Girlfriend shit. He doesn’t say that part. 

What he ends up saying is, “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.” 

Madison leans up on tiptoes to press a quick close-mouthed kiss to Tyson’s lips. “I know. But I want to help you, babe. Let me help you.” 

Tyson sighs. This isn’t a fight he’s going to win. Madison watches him with something like satisfaction on her face as he finds his keys, carefully unhooks his apartment key and hands it over, but there’s something soft in her eyes, too. Tyson can’t bear to think too hard about what that look means, so he steps around Madison and goes to grab his bags.

Tyson gives her a quick kiss on his way past. He wants nothing more than to kiss her properly, like she deserves, but he doesn’t think his jaw could handle that. Madison grabs Tyson’s wrist before he can get far. He turns to look at her again, a question on the tip of his tongue, when she slips a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him again. It’s almost desperate, but slow and gentle. Tyson lets himself get lost in it for a second. Madison squeezes his neck once before she pulls away. She gives him a soft smile. Tyson presses his forehead to hers for another second before he regretfully pulls away. 

“See you in a few days,” she whispers. 

Tyson deserves all the chirps he gets for being late.

The road trip fucking sucks, to say the least. Tyson’s jaw hurts more often than it doesn’t, and he ends up with more penalty minutes than points. He’s looking forward to going home and sleeping in his own bed for a minimum of twelve hours.

He panics, too, a little. It’s become startlingly obvious that he’s fucking head over heels for Madison, and he has no clue what to do about it. They’ve got a good thing going, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to mess with it, really. He doesn’t really want things to stay how they are, either. 

So, panic. He thinks about JT calling Madison his girlfriend, just a few days before. He thinks of his own realization that the lines between hooking up and relationship have become blurred. What he needs is distance, some clarity. The time difference between Denver and the East Coast is an easy enough excuse to start; they’re busy, and it’s easy to let texts from Madison go unanswered for a few hours, or a few hours longer than a few hours. 

Madison must get the hint, because her texts peter out after a few days. 

Tyson is trying to find his keys in his carry-on bag as they step off the plane when he remembers that he left them with Madison so she could lock up his apartment for him. He’s locked out of his apartment and being iced out by Madison, and all he really wants is to go to sleep and not talk to anyone.

He sheepishly calls Madison as he leaves the airport. She sounds normal when she answers, and she doesn’t hesitate to say, “Sure,” when he asks if he can pick up his keys. Tyson climbs into his car tiredly and puts Madison’s address into his phone GPS.

Tyson’s only been to Madison’s place a few times. He hasn’t realized until now that he usually prefers having her over at his apartment. He likes seeing her there, forcing him to make room for herself in his life, at ease in his bed. He shakes those thoughts off. 

Madison makes him wait when he knocks on her apartment door. He stands awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Finally, after what feels like forever, Madison swings the door open. She doesn’t move back to let Tyson in, keys already in her hand. 

“Hi,” Tyson breathes. Madison raises an eyebrow at him. Tyson gets the sudden urge to apologize. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Thanks again, uh, for helping me with everything,” he says eventually. “I owe you.” He hasn’t seen his apartment yet, obviously, but he knows Madison left it cleaner than it’s been since he moved in, probably. Madison’s breath catches. That was the wrong thing to say. “No, you don’t, Tyson,” she says shortly. She tosses Tyson his keys. He’s not expecting it and fumbles them. The sound of them hitting the ground is deafening. Tyson’s exhausted, and he’s only so strong.

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Please?”

Madison regards him. Tyson looks pathetic, if she’s being honest with herself, worn-out and worn-down. His swelling has gone down since she last saw him, but he looks uncomfortable. She gets the feeling it’s not just about his jaw. She, too, is only so strong. “C’mere,” she says, finally stepping back and opening the door wider. Tyson’s so relieved he could cry.

Tyson ends up collapsing in Madison’s bed and sleeps for twelve hours, face buried in a pillow that smells like her. So much for getting some distance. 

Madison’s waiting outside Tyson’s apartment door when he gets home after beating Calgary a few nights later. Tyson’s tired, and cold, but he feels himself grinning when he sees her. She’s leaning casually against his door frame, playing idly on her phone, but she’s wearing one of Tyson’s hoodies. He wants nothing more than to kiss her right there, but he settles for bumping her out of the way with his hip so he can unlock his front door.

“What if JT had come home with me, huh? Or Cale?” Tyson asks instead of saying hello. She follows him inside and locks the door behind her. Tyson busies himself with his coat so he doesn’t blurt out something dumb. He and JT weren’t quite as inseparable as they used to be, but it could happen. And Cale only lived a few floors away. Though, now that Tyson thought of it, he hadn’t been inviting teammates over after games very much lately, not when there was usually someone else waiting for him.

He’s seen Madison since they got back from their road trip, but he misses her so much when she’s not around now. He can’t get enough of her. That probably means something. He’s working on it. Sort of. 

“Hello to you, too, Tys,” she scoffs, kicking off her shoes. She carefully aims one at Tyson’s shin.

“Hey, hey, watch the suit pants,” he protests. He gives in and steps closer to her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her into him. He allows himself a quick kiss, just a chaste one, forcing himself to pull away before either of them can deepen it.

She pouts at him. Tyson allows himself one more kiss. He is beginning to realize that he is so, so fucked.

Tyson strips off his suit jacket as he heads towards the kitchen. She trails after him. Tyson swings around to walk backwards so he can face her. He immediately bumps into the doorway to the kitchen and stumbles. He doesn’t turn back around.

“Snack first,” he says. He doesn’t say what comes next, but he’s pretty sure they both know.

“Didn’t you eat after the game at the Can?” she asks. Tyson drops his suit jacket on one of his kitchen chairs. She picks it up with a sigh and a small smile before draping it nicely over the back of the chair instead. 

Tyson turns back around, intent on digging through his fridge. “Well, yeah, but—” He freezes. Blinks. There are balloons tied to the faucet of his sink. Next to them, a cookie cake and two wrapped presents. Tyson peers closer at the cookie cake. Happy birthday, Tys! It reads, in looping cursive. 

Tyson turns slowly back to face her. She looks shy, biting her lip and watching Tyson with something like nervousness written across her face. Tyson feels guilty, suddenly, for the way he tried to put distance between them just a few days before. 

“How did you—When?” Tyson gets out. She doesn’t look any less nervous, he realizes, and he rushes over to hug her.

She holds up a familiar key when he lets her go, the beginnings of a smile on her face, now. “Cale slipped me your spare key,” she explains. “I snuck in after you left for the game this afternoon, after I got off work.” 

Tyson had completely forgotten that he and Cale had swapped spares when they ended up living in the same building. The idea was to save them from the potential embarrassment of locking your keys in your apartment, but apparently Cale was using his for more nefarious purposes now. 

Madison had been surprised at how easy it had all been. She doesn’t even remember when she got Cale’s number, but he had readily agreed to help her out some. She’d even considered sticking around and surprising Tyson when he got home, but she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d react. She couldn’t tell with him sometimes.

Tyson has to kiss her. She giggles, breathless, when he pulls away.

“Well, now I know what we’re eating for a snack,” Tyson says, taking her hand and dragging her towards the island. He only lets go long enough to dig through a drawer for a knife and to tear off two paper towels. He cuts two large slices and hands one to her. He shoves a bite of cookie cake in his mouth before he says, I love you.

She hops up on the counter when they’ve both finished their slices, swinging her feet into the cabinets. Tyson steps between her legs and kisses her again, because he can. He reaches behind her and picks up one of the wrapped packages. It’s small, light. He flips it over once in his hands. “Hey, your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says, swiping for the present. 

Tyson holds it out of her reach, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pressing him close against her. Tyson takes a deep breath.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says. He sticks a finger underneath a flap in the wrapping paper. He really hadn’t been expecting anything.

She shrugs. “It’s stupid,” she says. 

“Good thing I like stupid,” Tyson counters. He tears into the wrapping paper properly, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. He’s left with a small book. “It’s a ukulele book?” 

“It’s sheet music, so you can finally stop playing the same three songs all the time,” she says.

Tyson realizes he hasn’t said anything else. He stops staring and sets the book aside. “It’s perfect, not stupid,” he says. She tilts her chin for another kiss. Who is he to say no? “Thank you,” he murmurs against her lips. He reaches for the second present, still kissing her. She groans at him.

Tyson tears into the second present just as eagerly as the first. She’s laughing at him, and this time he crumples the wrapping paper up and tosses it at her face. It’s just a case of beer, Tyson’s favorite. He hadn’t realized she noticed it was always stocked in his fridge. 

Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, and Tyson presses closer, as close as he can get. The counter digs into the tops of his thighs, but he’s too busy making out to care. She slides her hands into his hair. She tastes like cookie cake and peppermint Chapstick; Tyson would kiss her forever if he could. 

Speaking of. They fell over the last time Tyson tried to carry her to his bedroom, but he slides his hands underneath her thighs, anyway, tugging her off the counter. She slips down, still pinned between Tyson and the countertop, still kissing him languidly. 

“Gonna actually move at any point?” she eventually asks, pulling away to press her forehead to Tyson’s. 

Tyson pretends to think about it. “I mean, we don’t have to go to bed,” he says. Not being on a bed hadn’t stopped them before.

She pushes on Tyson’s chest, and he goes, laughing. She lets herself be dragged to Tyson’s room, kicking the door shut behind her. 

It’s late by the time they tumble into bed for real. She’s in one of Tyson’s shirts, and nothing else. If Tyson weren’t actually exhausted, he’d be considering round two. He had nearly gotten caught while they were cleaning up in the bathroom after round one, sleepily staring as she took off her makeup and brushed her teeth—a bottle of her makeup remover and her toothbrush live on Tyson’s sink, and have for months. Tyson tries not to look into it too much. 

“What?” she’d asked, catching Tyson’s eye in the mirror.

He had shaken himself. “Nothing,” he said, giving her a sleepy grin. He pressed a kiss to her temple as he slipped out of the bathroom.

Madison watches him go. She’s trying to decipher that look in his eyes. His face was soft, fond behind drowsy eyes. She realizes she’s frozen with her toothbrush still in her mouth. Tyson’s waiting for her. 

He’s staring up at the ceiling fan, rotating slowly above him, when she emerges and slips under the covers next to him. Her toes are cold where she presses them to Tyson’s leg, and he swears under his breath, even as he reaches across the bed to pull her closer. He presses a kiss to her hair and rests his chin on top of her head. Madison hides a smile in his chest. 

Tyson wakes up slowly the next morning. It’s still early, the sunlight filtering through his curtains the hazy grey of dawn. Madison’s still asleep next to him when he rolls over. Tyson dares to pull her closer until she’s tucked underneath his chin again. Madison stirs a little, making a soft noise and pressing closer. She pulls back and blinks sleepily up at Tyson.

“Happy birthday, Tyson,” she murmurs. 

Tyson grins at her and brushes a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. He kisses her quickly, and she makes a soft noise and leans into it before yawning. “Thank you,” Tyson whispers back. “Now go back to sleep.” 

Madison grumbles, but snuggles back in, pressing her nose to Tyson’s collarbone. 

It’s brighter out when Tyson next blinks himself awake. Madison’s already awake this time, scrolling quietly on her phone, but she sets it aside when she sees Tyson look at her. He rolls so he can prop himself up on one hand, leaning over Madison. She grins up at him, reaches to slide her fingers into Tyson’s hair.

Tyson has practice today, and then they’re leaving again. Those things aren’t important right now, though. What’s important is Madison’s mouth opening up to his, the pressure of her knee against his hip, the feel of her skin underneath his fingers when he slips a hand below her shirt. 

It takes them a while to get out of bed. 

Madison moves easily around Tyson when they finally make it into the kitchen. Tyson makes Madison coffee the way she likes it and mans the toaster while Madison makes them both eggs. She showers—Tyson bought all of her shower products weeks ago—while Tyson gets dressed. Tyson perches on the bathroom counter and watches while she does her makeup. She catches him looking at her.

“What?” she asks. She pushes her hair out of her face nervously. 

“Uh,” Tyson says. He had gotten caught up, wasn’t really thinking about anything, distracted by thoughts of how easily Madison moves through his space, by his side.

“Tyson,” Madison says, impatient.

“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go on a date with me?” Tyson manages. 

“Tys, you’re leaving on a road trip in,” she checks the time on her phone, “like four hours.”

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Okay, but we’ll be back in a few days. What about then?”

Madison smiles. “We’ll see, ask me when you get back.” 

“That’s not a real answer,” Tyson says. He can hear himself whining. He needs this answer before he can board a plane, though. He grabs her wrist and tugs her closer. “C’mon, am I really that bad?”

She goes easily into Tyson’s side. She pretends to think about it for a moment—too long for Tyson’s nerves—before relenting. “When you get back,” she says. She goes up on her toes to kiss Tyson’s cheek. “Now get out of here before you’re late to practice.”

They don’t get to go on that date.

He’s in California when he gets the call. Minnesota. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming. The deadline’s coming up in, like, a week, and besides. He’d asked for a trade, hadn’t he? He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone before he’s back on a plane, this time to St. Paul. 

He calls his mom first, asks if she’ll pack him some shit from his apartment in Denver. He was supposed to be back in just a few days. 

“I don’t have any clothes for fucking Minnesota,” he complains, his one moment of self-appointed wallowing. He’ll be happy about this, probably, he just needs to process it.

He doesn’t think about it when he turns his phone off before getting on the plane. He’s met by some people from the Wild—the team, his team, now—at the airport in St. Paul, hustled to a hotel near Xcel Center with his meager belongings and left to “settle in.” He’s expected at morning skate tomorrow; his jaw aches.

They’ve put him up in a nice hotel downtown. He can see a river—the Mississippi, he thinks— out his window. His phone’s still off, tossed on the bed when he came in. He swipes it off the comforter and powers it back on, shoving it and a room key in his pocket on his way out the door. 

His hotel room is too stuffy, too small. He takes the stairs and pushes his way outside. He can see the Xcel Center a few blocks away, and he turns his back to it, starts walking. He has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He hopes no one recognizes him. 

It’s not long before he finds himself in a park alongside the river. It’s quiet, and no one looks twice at him as he finds an empty bench and finally pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his notifications: texts from Kacey and his grandpa—he’ll have to respond to them—dozens from his—former—teammates on the Avs that he ignores, a handful from numbers he doesn’t have saved, Wild players introducing themselves and welcoming him to the team—he’ll have to make some new contacts. He swipes everything away to deal with later, once his head stops spinning. He pauses on one text, the only one he’d really been looking for.

So much for that date, huh. it says. She’s added a broken heart emoji to soften the blow. Then, an hour later, call me when you get the chance. Another emoji at the end, a black heart, even though Tyson’s told her repeatedly that he can mostly tell colors apart.

He already knows what she’s going to say. Can you get broken up with before you’re even dating? How do you make friends-with-benefits work long-distance? Tyson’s not in the mood for that conversation, doesn’t know if he ever will be. He swipes away her notifications, too. 

Minnesota is chilly, and Tyson’s fingertips are a little numb by the time his hotel room door slams behind him later. It’s getting dark. He should order dinner. He should do a lot of things, actually. He lets himself wallow for a few more minutes, flopped on his back in the center of the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He halfheartedly peruses the room service menu on his nightstand before calling something in. He’s not even sure what he ordered. 

Tyson’s woken up by knocking on his door. He blinks awake and stumbles blearily out of bed. It’s fully dark in his room now. Room service knocks on his door again. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Tyson grumbles, not even loud enough to be heard, probably. 

His food is lukewarm at best by the time he gets everything spread out on the little desk in his room. Tyson picks at it more than he eats it.

Back in Denver, Madison’s phone doesn’t ring. She figured Tyson would be busy and exhausted by the time he made it to Minnesota. She wants to check in, but her messages show that they’ve been read. He’s made it clear that he’s not in the mood to chat. 

It’s fine. He’s allowed to be upset over all this. Madison had just thought that they’d made it far enough in their relationship—whatever that relationship was—that she wouldn’t get stonewalled the second something serious happened. 

She hasn’t had a chance to return Tyson’s spare key to Cale yet. She’d stayed behind after Tyson left for the airport on his birthday to clean up some of the disaster they’d left behind the night before. She was going to give it back when they got home. Except now Tyson’s not coming home, and she isn’t sure he’ll speak to her again, either. 

She tries to convince herself she’s not hurt by it. 

Madison sneaks back into Tyson’s apartment the day after the trade. She’s collected some of Tyson’s clothes over the last few months, and she should pick up her own belongings that have become scattered across his apartment. She’s not sure how Tyson’s going to get the rest of his stuff to Minnesota, but she knows it’s not her problem. Tyson’s made that clear. 

She opens the text thread with Tys 🖤 again anyway. No new messages. She starts to type, to ask how Tyson’s doing, if he wants to talk, but she deletes it all. She closes her text thread with him again.

Madison wanders around the apartment, collecting things she recognizes as her own: her toothbrush, a half dozen ponytail holders that Tyson delights in tearing out of her hair to make out, the makeup remover that Tyson bought after she fell asleep there the first time and left makeup all over his pillowcase. She leaves the clothes she dug out of her closet and drawers folded on the end of his bed. She keeps one of his hoodies, because it’s comfy and it smells like him. It’s an Avs hoodie, anyway; it’s not like he’ll need it. The cookie cake she bought for his birthday is still sitting on the counter. They’d eaten it with breakfast on his actual birthday, but it was otherwise untouched. She figures someone will be by soon to pack up his apartment. She leaves it on the counter for them, whoever it is.

She locks the door behind her. It feels final in a way that she hates. 

Tyson drags himself to morning skate early the next morning. He doesn’t feel like he slept much, though he fell asleep before he ever got around to responding to anyone’s texts. He makes no less than four wrong turns trying to find the home locker room in Xcel Center. The equipment staff has a locker set up for him already, all of his new gear waiting for him when he finds it. Tyson stares at the white practice jersey for a long moment, the green helmet already fitted with his full face shield and new number. He’s the only one in the locker room so far.

Tyson feels himself smile for the first time in what feels like days. 

Skate passes in a blur. Tyson throws himself into everything the coaches ask of him, trying his best to learn a new team on the fly. His muscles ache from all the travel in the last few days and the lack of sleep, but he leans into the pain with a grin. It’s fun, in a weird way, and everyone’s quick to chirp Tyson, make him feel like he’s already a real part of the team. 

Madison watches the Wild’s game that night. Tyson’s still in his little fishbowl after the broken jaw, and Madison winces every time he takes a check, even though she knows he’s fine, really. Minnesota wins. She doesn’t watch any of their other games, or follow Minnesota on any socials. She considers blocking Tyson’s phone number, the last message she sent to him still sitting open and unreplied to. 

She can’t bring herself to do it. 

Tyson’s mom, ever the lifesaver, arrives a few days later with most of the contents of his closet in tow. She’s also brought the cookie cake Madison had bought him for his birthday. It’s half-eaten and stale, now, reading only “-hday, Tys!” He eats a piece, anyway, and his mom doesn’t ask who bought it for him. She doesn’t ask any questions, actually, which Tyson is grateful for. He’s told her bits and pieces about Madison over the last few months, but he hasn’t told her how he’s fallen in love. It doesn’t matter now.

Tyson’s trying to unpack, give himself some semblance of “home” in his stale hotel room, when a piece of paper falls out of the pocket of one of his suit jackets. He picks it up and carefully unfolds it, though he already knows what it says. good luck tonight! ♡ in Madison’s pretty cursive. She’d tucked it into his suit before a game in January, and Tyson had scored a goal that night. He slipped it back in the inside pocket of the suit jacket. Maybe it’ll bring him luck in Minnesota, too. 

Madison’s phone rings late one night, a few weeks after Tyson’s been traded. It’s the first time she’s heard from him since he left Denver. She squints at her phone screen in the dark, debating ignoring it. Tyson’s face grins up at her, a stupid selfie he had taken ages ago. She swipes to answer with a sigh.

“Tyson, if you’re just calling because you’re drunk or something, I swear—” she starts. She’s not really sure what she’ll do to Tyson, actually, so she trails off. 

Tyson’s quiet on the other end of the line. Madison hears him take a shaky breath, but he still doesn’t speak for a long moment. “The Avs are in town,” he says finally. “Game’s tomorrow night,” he adds. 

Madison hasn’t really been paying attention to either team’s schedule lately. She hasn’t had much reason to. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say here, what’s the right answer to comfort Tyson. She might’ve once, but she feels wrong-footed now, unsure of where they stand.

“You gonna see anyone?” she asks.

Tyson huffs. “Yeah, I got dinner with some of them tonight.” He pauses. “They’re still my friends, y’know, it’s not like they’re the ones who traded me.”

Madison hums, something like agreement. She thinks she can hear the hurt in Tyson’s voice, even though he’s trying to hide it. He’s still talking. “I’ve just…never had to play against my best friends like this before.”

“Oh, Tys,” Madison says softly. “That sucks, babe.” The familiar endearment slips out before she can stop herself. 

“Yeah, it sucks alright,” Tyson agrees. He’s quiet again. “Wish you could be here, too. Miss you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Madison says. With the game tomorrow, Tyson might not be drunk, but it’s late, and he’s wallowing in missing his friends. She doesn’t think she really qualifies as that anymore.

“What do you mean?” Tyson asks, indignant. “Of course I mean it.”

“Is that why this is the first time we’ve spoken since you got traded? Two weeks ago?” Madison’s angry, suddenly; that small spark of hurt she’s been trying to bury flares into fury. 

She can practically hear Tyson’s wince on the other end of the line. It’s too late to be arguing, but this is where they’re at now. 

“Sorry for not wanting to get dumped hours after I got shipped off to fucking Minnesota,” Tyson snaps back, but he sounds tired. The fight leaves Madison just as quickly as it appeared. “Who said anything about breaking up?”

Tyson’s quiet. Madison can picture the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s thinking too hard. “You asked me to call you!”

“I asked you to call me because I wanted to check on you, dumbass.” Madison rubs at her eyes. They should both be asleep, but now she feels too awake to hang up, to end this conversation. She might be annoyed, but it’s the first time she’s heard Tyson’s voice in weeks. She’s missed it, though she’s not about to admit that right now. “How can I even break up with a guy I’ve never been on a real date with?” she asks.

“Oh.” 

“It’s been a wild fucking month for you, Tys, I wanted to talk to you and see how you were handling shit,” Madison continues.

Tyson realizes now might not be the best time to admit that he’d requested a trade. This had still blindsided him, somehow. He considers switching to a FaceTime call. He desperately wants to see Madison’s face, the next best thing to being with her right now, getting to touch her. He winces again when she sniffles on the other end of the line. He’d been lonely when he called her, expecting some sympathy, not the anger he was met with. 

He guesses he probably should’ve considered she’d be mad at him after moving over 900 miles away and then giving her radio silence for two weeks, actually. He taps the FaceTime button a little harder than necessary. He’s almost surprised when Madison accepts the request.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy,” he says weakly. “I didn’t think—I just figured you were wanting to tell me that we couldn’t keep doing this.” It seems obvious given the distance, but Tyson really hadn’t been in the mood to get effectively broken up with twice in one day. 

Madison’s eyes burn as she swipes at them, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the late hour, or if she’s about to cry. 

Tyson realizes something. “Besides, you had just gotten spooked and tried to slow things down, I didn’t think you’d want to jump from just hooking up to long-distance.” It’s too dark for him to tell if she’s crying. He hopes she isn’t. 

“That was—” Madison starts to protest. But Tyson’s right. It had only been a few weeks since she’d panicked about how fast they were headed towards a real relationship. That had been before the broken jaw, before Tyson’s birthday, before he got traded. Before Madison had the chance to realize just how much she cared about Tyson, and liked Tyson, and how much she missed him when he wasn’t just a text away.

“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend for real, you know? On that date? But then I was in Minnesota, and I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to anyone, and I wasn’t ready to talk about anything.” Madison opens her mouth to argue more, but Tyson cuts her off. “You want to know how I’m handling shit? Not well,” he admits.

Hockey is hockey, but he’s not sure Minnesota will ever feel like home the way Denver still does. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Madison blurts.

Tyson laughs in spite of himself. “So many things,” he says. It’s easy, for a second, to forget they’re arguing. Fuck, he wishes Madison were with him, and not for the first, or the third, or the tenth time since he’s been in Minnesota. “I guess I should’ve texted instead of shutting you out, huh? I just never knew what to say.”

“You’re an idiot,” Madison says softly. “I really did just want to check on you. But you left me on read, and then a few days had passed, so I guess you’d made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even think about worrying about our future then.” 

Tyson squeezes his eyes shut. He’s blurry on Madison’s phone screen, but she can tell his hair is a disaster, like he’s been anxiously pulling on his curls.

“Did I accidentally break up with you to avoid being broken up with?” he asks. He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughter. Or maybe tears. Madison can’t quite tell, actually. 

“Mmm, I think so, babe,” Madison says. She rolls over in bed, stifling a yawn. It’s late in Denver, but it’s even later in St. Paul, she thinks. “Hey, you need to sleep. “You’ve gotta beat the Avs tomorrow.” She glances at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Well. Today, I guess.”

Tyson sticks his tongue out at her, but he snuggles deeper into his pillows. “Can I call you later?” His voice is small.

“Yeah, Tys.” They’ve got a lot more to talk about. “Say hi to JT and Cale for me, yeah?” she says.

Tyson grins at her. He stops himself from saying, “I love you,” before he hangs up, but only barely, settling on, “Good night,” instead. There’s still time for the other one, he thinks

The game is…fine. They slap a microphone on Tyson before he goes out on the ice, and it’s definitely weird facing off against some of his best friends, but he gets through it. He doesn’t score, but he doesn’t land in the penalty box either, so. He spends some time attempting to chirp an exasperated EJ that he’ll probably get made fun of for later. Oh, and the Wild win. Tyson guesses it’s an okay night, after all. 

Tyson misses Denver, misses playing at the Can, but after facing off against his friends on the still-unfamiliar ice in Minnesota, he’s not sure he can handle returning. 

Madison finds herself watching the Avs game for the first time in weeks, but she’s not watching for them. She’s paying attention to all of Tyson’s shifts, and she realizes halfway through the game that she’s completely rooting against the Avs. 

The final buzzer has barely blown when she’s pulling out her phone to text Tyson. She hesitates for a moment, unsure of the right thing to say. She feels like they finally made progress last night after Tyson stonewalled her for weeks, but they’re still a half dozen steps behind where they were in the beginning of March. She somehow knows more than she did before Tyson called her, but she feels like she understands their relationship even less now. 

She must type four or five messages before she settles on, great win :) 🖤. She kind of hates it as soon as she sends it, but she can’t take it back. She tosses her phone to the other end of the couch before she can obsess over waiting for Tyson to text her back. She doesn’t have to wait long, though, before her phone is vibrating near her feet. She takes one breath, then another, before scrambling for her phone again. Tyson’s texted back, thanks babe. Then, less than a minute later, wish you were here. 

Madison stares at her phone, chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know the right thing to say once again. ‘Me too’ feels too earnest, ‘wish you were still here instead’ feels mean somehow. She still doesn’t know when she’ll see Tyson again, if she’ll see Tyson again. All she has is a version of Tyson through a screen. Her thumb hovers over the call button. Tyson’s probably busy with post-game stuff, Madison reminds herself. She misses his voice, though.

She finally settles on: :). She waits anxiously until Tyson has read it before sending: Call me later?

She checked the Wild’s schedule already; they’re in town for a few more days. Tyson will probably be heading straight home—wherever “home” is these days— after the game. She spares a moment to wonder about the future of Tyson’s old apartment in Denver. She wonders if it’s been emptied out yet, wiped clean of all traces of Tyson, of them. That had been home to Tyson, and it had almost started to feel like home to Madison, too. 

Tyson sends her back a thumbs up emoji and an emoji with its tongue sticking out. Madison rolls her eyes fondly and tosses her phone back to the end of her couch. 

She’s dozing when her phone rings. Half-asleep, she fumbles for it before answering. “‘Lo?” she mumbles. 

Tyson chuckles softly at her. “You asked me to call you and then fell asleep,” he says, tsk-ing. 

Madison sticks her tongue out at him, even though he can’t see her. “Shut up, it’s late,” she whines. 

“Then go to bed, Mads,” Tyson tells her. She can tell he’s trying not to laugh at her.

Madison feels like a toddler protesting bedtime, but she says, “No! I wanna talk to you.”

Tyson laughs again. “Okay, are you at least in bed already?”

“...No.”

“Go brush your teeth, and get in bed, yeah? We can keep talking then.”

Madison sighs but heaves herself off her couch and into her bathroom. Tyson starts chatting as she walks, mindless stuff, like the weather in St. Paul, or how bored he is of living in a hotel room still. Madison puts him on speaker and sets her phone next to the sink so she can keep listening while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. It almost feels like getting ready for bed alongside Tyson again, elbowing each other for space in front of his bathroom mirror. 

He falls quiet as she crawls underneath her blankets. Madison stifles a yawn.

“How was it?” she asks.

“The game?” Madison nods, forgetting again that Tyson can’t see her. Tyson continues anyway. “I mean, it was fine, I guess. We won, so.”

“Just fine?” Madison prods.

Tyson hesitates. “Weird,” he says after a few seconds. “It was weird. Feels like a Twilight Zone episode, honestly. Like I woke up one day in some other life that everyone else swears didn’t happen. Like, you get traded, and everyone expects you to immediately fit in with this new locker room, and be all in with your new team. As if all the games played with your friends never even happened.”

Madison doesn’t know what to say to that. It must be weird to have to effectively sever all ties with your best friends. To know and trust the face across the faceoff dot from you. She probably couldn’t handle it if she were in Tyson’s place,

“I’m sorry, Tys,” she murmurs, for lack of anything better to say. “It’s business, but business is shitty.” 

Tyson huffs in agreement. Madison’s wearing the hoodie she stole from Tyson, and she tucks her nose underneath the collar. It doesn’t smell like Tyson any more. 

“Hey, is now a bad time to ask if we can have phone sex?” Tyson asks.

Madison bursts out laughing. “Yes, Tyson, it’s a terrible time.” Tyson whines a little at her. “Though,” she adds, “I am wearing one of your hoodies.”

Tyson groans. The few times Madison had worn something of his around him, it usually wasn’t long before the clothes ended up back on the floor.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he says. His voice is muffled like he’s buried his head underneath a pillow.

Madison yawns again.

“You need to go to sleep,” Tyson tells her gently.

“No,” Madison protests again. “Tell me more about Minnesota,” she pleads. “I’ve missed listening to you.”

Madison can’t read Tyson’s moment of silence, but he starts doing as he’s told, telling Madison more about his hotel, about the food in the locker room after games at Xcel Center and how different it is from Denver, about all the different personalities on the team, until Madison falls asleep. 

Madison wakes up to a dead phone. She plugs it in while she showers, and she immediately checks her call log. Tyson had kept talking for well over an hour. He texted her, too, after he’d hung up. Miss you, promise we’ll talk more soon.

Madison responds the only way she knows how: 🖤.

April

The end of the season passes in a blur after that. Tyson settles in as best he can, but he feels like he barely has time to catch his breath. With the end of the season and the playoffs looming, there’s no time for Tyson to find a real place to live, so he’s still holed up in the hotel, living out of suitcases.

Time moves differently in hotels, he swears, the days blurring into one another. Tyson no longer knows what day it is; it’s only travel day, or game day, or rarely, a day off. 

The Wild are winning more than they lose, and Tyson manages to pick up some points here and there. It could be worse. At least it’s not, like, Buffalo. 

The team goes on the road for the first time since he got there, and it’s a good chance for Tyson to get to know everyone a little better, spend some time out of his generic hotel room—even if he goes back to another generic hotel room after each dinner out with the guys. He makes a point to call Madison as much as he can, which is almost every night after he crashes into bed and turns on some shitty TV. 

Their phone calls end up lasting for hours. Tyson realizes that he and Madison spent more time hooking up than really getting to know each other. It’s nice to take the time to just talk and learn things about Madison. Tyson feels himself falling in love more with each phone call.

Tyson talks about his family—his sister, his mom, his grandparents. How much he misses them with the long seasons away. How much he’s looking forward to going home to Alberta when the season ends. He doesn’t tell Madison that he wants to bring her home with him this summer, not yet. 

Madison tells Tyson about everything: her job (graphic design and marketing for a local business Tyson vaguely thinks he recognizes), her family (two sisters, one of whom Tyson briefly met), and her favorite movies (Lord of the Rings, but Tyson could have guessed that). When she tells him she likes to bake, Tyson immediately demands that she sends him some. He’s not even sure if he can get mail at the hotel, actually. Not important.

Tyson throws himself into hockey, though he’s not sure how much it shows. He’s determined to make this work, to stick and make a difference in Minnesota the way he never quite could in Colorado. He tells Madison this, too, voicing fears about his future in hockey that he’s never even let himself think about too much. 

The Wild plays the Avalanche again in St. Paul on the last day of the season. Tyson’s dreading it. He’s privately more than a little glad that they’re not playing the Avs in the first round, but he still can’t help but feel like he should be there instead, still on a powerhouse team poised to take on the postseason, not the underdogs.

Tyson calls Madison a week before the game, laying in bed, fresh off a single assist in back to back wins against Vancouver and Seattle. Tyson can hear the smile in Madison’s voice when she answers. Tyson’s chest hurts with how much he misses her.

Which is probably why he blurts, “Can you come to Minnesota?” 

Madison’s quiet for so long Tyson pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. 

Finally, she says, “Tyson, I can’t just drop everything and fly to Minnesota.” “No, I know, I just meant next week,” he says. “We play the Avs again.”

Madison knows that, this time. She’s actually started paying attention to the Wild—mostly just Tyson, though—since April started.

“That’s a Friday night, Tys,” she tells him. “I’d have to take off work for the day.” She could, probably, without too much fuss. She just wants to hear Tyson beg a little. She’s still a tiny bit hurt by the way he stonewalled her after the trade. 

“I’ll pay for your plane ticket!” Tyson adds. That wasn’t really Madison’s point. “I really want you to be there, I need to see you again.” 

Madison already knows she can’t tell Tyson no. She sighs and drags her laptop towards her. She starts searching for plane tickets. “Just for the game on Friday, or am I allowed to stay the whole weekend?” she asks.

Tyson scoffs. “Like I’d let you leave after one night when I haven’t seen you in two like two months.” He’s already planning on only leaving the hotel room except for practice and maybe to finally take Madison on an actual date. Actually: “Hey, pack something nice to wear. I still owe you a date.”

Madison laughs. “How nice are we talking?”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna wine and dine you so hard,” Tyson says, breaking off into laughter before he can even finish the sentence. 

Madison spends the next week, alternating between excited and anxious. Excited because she hasn’t seen Tyson in weeks, and she can’t wait to be able to kiss him again. She’s not sure why she’s even worried. She and Tyson have already spent months doing almost everything couples do, just without the label. They already know they work well together. Adding a label shouldn’t change things. 

She goes out and buys a new dress the day before her flight, after frantically deciding that nothing in her closet was good enough for a first date.

“He already knows what you look like,” her sister Emma points out. “It’s not like you have to worry about him liking you. Also, he’s colorblind.”

Madison ignores her (annoyingly correct) sister and spends almost over an hour in the mall. She carefully packs the new dress at the top of her suitcase before zipping it up and leaving it by her front door. She’s so excited she can hardly sleep.

It’s not a long flight from Denver to Minnesota, but Madison’s not used to flying, and the whole affair has her stressed beyond belief. It takes her unbelievably long to find her gate, and even though she got to KDEN plenty early, she still worries that she’ll be late. It’s a relief when she can finally settle in her seat. She turns on a Disney movie she doesn’t really watch and counts the minutes until she can see Tyson again.

Except then she can’t find her luggage, and Tyson’s supposed to be picking her up and isn’t answering her texts. It takes her twenty minutes to find out that another passenger mistakenly took her suitcase and has brought it back, and Tyson still hasn’t responded to tell her that he’s waiting.

She makes her way outside anyway, following the signs towards parking. Her hands are too full with her carry-on and suitcase to reach for her phone to call Tyson, but when she steps outside her terminal, she recognizes the person behind the wheel of a car just pulling up to the curb.

Tyson has the car in park and is jumping out before Madison can take another step. She’s so overwhelmed she bursts into tears.

She drops her bags to launch herself at Tyson, wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn’t stumble, just slides his arms around her waist and hugs her back.

“Whoa, whoa, why the tears?” he asks, wiping one away with his thumb. 

“I just really missed you,” Madison mumbles into his shirt.

Tyson presses a kiss to her hair. He unwraps one hand and reaches for the handle of Madison’s suitcase. “Well, let’s get you in the car, and then we can talk, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, letting go of Madison fully to swing her suitcase into the trunk. Madison slips into the passenger seat while he throws her carry-on in, too, before he’s jogging back to the driver’s side. He leans across the console to kiss Madison’s cheek.

“Missed you, too, by the way,” he says.

Madison feels silly for crying now. Everything always seems better when Tyson’s around, and right now is no exception, with the windows rolled down and Tyson singing loudly—and badly—to the song on the radio. Tyson reaches for Madison’s hand, and she lets him slip his fingers between hers. Something restless in Madison’s chest settles when he touches her. 

They don’t much as Tyson drives, the city flashing by out the car windows. It’s been ages since they saw each other, but they talk almost every day; there’s not much to catch up on. Madison likes it, the comfortable quiet between two people who know each other well. 

Tyson apologizes for the fact that he’s still living in a hotel on the elevator ride up to his room. 

“Tyson, I don’t care where you’re living, I’m just glad to be able to see you again,” she tells him.

Tyson blushes, but he also boxes her in against the elevator wall to kiss her properly for the first time since she got off the plane. Madison trails after him as he heads down the hallway and pushes open his hotel room door with a dorky sweep of his arm. 

The room’s bigger than Madison expected, with a kitchenette that doesn’t look like it’s been used at all, and a little couch and desk near the TV. Madison can see the bed, sheets rumpled and twisted like Tyson has never bothered to make it in the weeks he’s been here. Tyson’s watching Madison survey the room like he’s nervous. 

“So, what’s next?” Madison asks. 

With the game last night, Tyson didn’t have skate today, but she’s familiar enough with his game day routine to know he should probably be napping soon. She could go for a nap herself. Madison doesn’t wait for an answer, just dumps her carry-on bag on the couch and wanders over to the bed. Tyson follows, still rolling Madison’s suitcase behind him. Madison flops backwards onto the bed. The sheets smell like Tyson.

“Well?” she asks, raising one eyebrow at him.

Tyson scrambles onto the bed after her. He drops to his elbows above Madison and leans down to kiss her, eager and not exactly gentle. Madison reaches up to thread her fingers into his curls. She runs her fingers through his hair once, twice, before closing her hand and tugging. Tyson groans into her mouth, but he gentles the kiss. They make out until they’re both breathless, and Tyson has to pull away. 

“I really should nap,” he says once he catches his breath. Madison tilts her chin up for another kiss. Tyson rolls his eyes but obliges, just a quick peck. He shifts his weight to one hand and pinches the outside of Madison’s thigh with the other. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle.”

They both clamber up the bed until Madison can collapse onto the pillows. Tyson collapses on top of her. 

“Oof, bud, what the hell,” she manages. Tyson’s heavy, and it’s hard to breathe. 

“Told you I wanted to cuddle,” Tyson says back, face smushed into Madison’s collarbone.

Madison pokes Tyson in the ribs, then again, harder, when he doesn’t react, until he sighs and squirms off her. Her reprieve doesn’t long, though, because Tyson immediately reaches out for Madison and pulls her close. She rolls onto her side to face him, and he grins at her. 

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.

Tyson’s grin only grows. “Yeah, but you like me.”

Madison slides a hand around the back of Tyson’s neck and kisses him. 

When Tyson's alarm goes off later, they’ve shifted in their sleep, and Tyson’s half-laying on top of Madison again. He slaps at his phone without moving and somehow manages to snooze the alarm. 

“Not ready yet,” Madison mumbles, wrapping an arm around Tyson and keeping him close. He huffs a laugh against Madison’s skin. 

“I’ve gotta get ready, baby,” he says. He kisses Madison’s shoulder.

Madison should probably get up, too. She wants to shower the plane funk off and make herself presentable for the game. But Tyson’s bed is really comfy. Tyson rolls off of her, and Madison whines at the loss of her human blanket.

Tyson shoots her an amused look. He leans back over Madison to kiss her one more time, but he avoids her attempts at dragging him back to bed. Madison pouts up at him. It doesn’t work. She watches from the bed as Tyson gets dressed in his gameday suit. He kisses her goodbye before he leaves. 

Left alone in the eerie silence of the hotel, Madison forces herself out of bed and into the shower. She brings her Bluetooth speaker with her, blasting one of her playlists loud enough to be heard over the water. She emerges in a cloud of steam to dig through her suitcase for the outfit she’d packed for tonight. She doesn’t own anything Wild-branded, and she doesn’t think wearing Tyson’s old Avalanche hoodie would go over too well. She’d had to buy something new for this, too: an amazing fleece-lined green corduroy jacket that she’d probably live in come fall. 

She takes the opportunity to poke around the hotel room a little, looking for traces of Tyson in the unfamiliar space. One of the blankets from his apartment was thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed. His ukulele sits on top of the desk. Madison hangs her date-night dress up in the little closet and finds her own good luck note to Tyson taped to the door. The kitchenette is full of Tyson’s snacks, including some of Madison’s favorites. It’s not much, but it’s enough. 

Madison eventually makes her way to the Xcel Center. She’s met by someone’s significant other outside—it’s a blur of faces and names she can hardly keep track of—before they head to their seats. She’d gotten used to the atmosphere at The Can, and Xcel Center is different but the same. It’s easy enough to settle into the rhythm of the game and the crowd. The game is wild from puck drop, but Minnesota manages to pull out a win. Tyson even scores the game winning goal. 

She follows the rest of the girls downstairs to the family room after the game. She’s restless, full of energy after the game, with no outlet for it. She all but tackles Tyson when he pokes his head in, stripped down to his base layers, but his curls still plastered to his head with sweat. 

“Whoa,” he says, steadying her as they tumble out into the hallway. He’s grinning at her, cheeks pink. He lets Madison pin him up against the wall opposite them. “Hi.”

Madison kisses him, before she can blurt something embarrassing, like, “I love you,” or, “That goal was hot.” Tyson makes a surprised noise into her mouth but kisses back easily, his hands tightening on her hips. He pulls away after a minute.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he whispers, kissing her temple. Louder, he says, “JT has requested to see you.”

Madison’s a little surprised, but pleased, to hear that. She’s hung out with JT a handful of times since she met him back in January, but she doesn’t think she’s talked to him since Tyson got traded. It had always felt more like JT was just a friend of a friend she got along with.

Tyson drags her down the halls towards the visitors’ locker room, JT’s already waiting for them, leaning against the door frame and messing around on his phone. Unlike Tyson, he’s dressed in clean clothes. He looks up as they approach and grins at them. Tyson doesn’t let go of Madison’s hand. 

JT ropes Madison into a one-armed hug. “Think you’re Josty’s good luck charm. He’s scored twice now at games you’ve been to.” Tyson sticks his tongue out at JT.

Someone from inside the locker room yells Tyson’s name, and he’s momentarily distracted. JT leans in closer to Madison.

“Take care of our boy, yeah?” he says, quietly so Tyson, who’s still talking to someone else, won’t hear. “He needs you.” 

Madison’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s saved by Tyson remembering they’re there. JT smacks a kiss to Madison’s cheek and nudges her back towards Tyson. 

“See you around?” he asks Tyson.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Madison watches them hug, and then Tyson’s leading her back down the maze of hallways. He says something to her before dropping her off outside the family room, but she doesn’t really hear it, lost in her own thoughts, thinking about JT’s words.

She’s still thinking about what JT said when Tyson rejoins her, as they make their way back to the hotel, up the elevator and into Tyson’s hotel room. She and Tyson move quietly, easily, around each other as they start to change out of their game-day clothes. She’s still lost in her thoughts when Tyson hooks his chin over her shoulder, startling her as she’s taking her makeup off. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He looks worried. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

Madison shrugs. “Nothing.”

Madison watches in the mirror as Tyson’s brow furrows further. “Did something happen?” Madison knows he’d been worried about how the Wild WAGs would receive her.

She shrugs Tyson’s chin off her shoulder, suddenly annoyed. “No, Tys, nothing happened.”

Nothing did happen, unless you count JT Compher’s casual words sending Madison into a spiral. 

Tyson slides between Madison and the sink. He crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Madison rolls her eyes, but gives Tyson a quick peck, before hip checking him out of the way so she can brush her teeth. Tyson watches, still suspicious. Madison ushers him towards the bed. He sits and drags Madison into his lap. He frowns up at her.

“Tys, really. Everything was just overwhelming, I guess.” Also not a lie; she’d never been to a hockey game as Tyson’s girlfriend—or, almost-girlfriend—and everything had been overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Most things had been the same, but sitting with the rest of the wives and girlfriends and listening to them ask her questions about her life and job had almost felt like a well-meaning interrogation. 

“Promise?”

Madison kisses Tyson, slow and gentle. “Promise.”

She yelps when Tyson flips them suddenly. He rolls on top of her, propping himself up on his hands. Madison can tell that he’s not letting this go.

“Then what’s wrong?” He chews nervously on his lower lip for a moment. “And don’t say nothing, I know you’re lying.” 

Madison huffs. “Just something JT said.” She shoves at Tyson’s shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. His glasses are crooked from his acrobatics, and Madison reaches up to adjust those next. He swats at her hand.

“I’ll kill him,” he says confidently.

“First, I think JT would beat you in a fight,” Madison says. Tyson makes a noise of protest, and Madison slaps a hand over his mouth. “Second, it wasn’t anything bad, I don’t know, just made me think.”

Tyson pries Madison’s hand away. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he says.

He’s distracted enough that Madison can hook a leg over his hips and flip them back over. She settles across his lap as Tyson blinks dazedly up at her.

“He asked me to take care of you, said you need me, whatever.” Madison’s trying to brush it off, as if she hadn’t spent hours thinking about it, as if she doesn’t feel uncomfortably seen. Far too vulnerable for something that was supposed to just be a hook-up way back in November. 

They’ve come a long way since November.

Tyson’s face clears. “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’” He surges up to kiss Madison before he continues. “Of course I need you. I fucking miss you constantly. I’ve wanted literally nothing but to be around you, like, all the time since, like, December.”

“Oh.” Madison should have realized that, maybe. It’s different to hear Tyson lay it out like that. “I didn’t realize,” she whispers. Tyson grins up at her. “You did kinda ghost me for a while there,” she points out.

Tyson groans. “I am never gonna hear the end of that, am I?” He runs his fingers through Madison’s hair, tugs a little at the ends. “I panicked because I was terrified of losing you, remember?” He punctuates his sentence with another gentle kiss. His hand slips from Madison’s hair to her waist, underneath her T-shirt. He’s missed the feeling of her underneath his hands. An emotion Madison can’t read crosses his face for a second before he says, “Do you—do you not—?” Feel the same way, is what he means to say, but can’t quite get out.

Madison understands him, anyway. “No, God, Tyson, no.” She hesitates; she supposes they’re laying it all on the line here. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Tyson surprises her by bursting out laughing. Hurt, Madison tries to squirm out of Tyson’s lap, but he reels her in and kisses her until she melts into his hands.

“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since you showed up at my door for a Lord of the Rings marathon.” He giggles a little and kisses Madison’s nose. “We’ve done this all backwards, haven’t we?” 

Madison giggles a little too and nods. “I don’t think we’re very good at all this,” she whispers.

Tyson shakes his head, still laughing. “We’ll get better. I mean, look at us, we’re already communicating more!”

Madison kissed him again to shut him up, but by then they were both too busy laughing to take it much farther. Madison collapses to the sheets next to Tyson, letting herself dissolve into giggles. It feels good to laugh like this with Tyson, the last bit of uneasy tension Madison didn’t even know existed disappearing at last. Madison feels delirious with it: the stress of the last few weeks, the long day of travel and hockey, the raw vulnerability of finally being honest with Tyson.

They laugh for longer than the situation warrants. Tyson eventually heaves a sigh and turns his head on his pillow to look at Madison, eyes uncharacteristically serious. Madison sucks in a breath and forces herself to stop laughing.

“I mean it, you know,” Tyson says. “I’ve been falling for you for a long time.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, props himself up on an elbow. “I guess this means you’re officially my girlfriend now, huh?”

“Huh, guess so.” Tyson beams at her. “Don’t think this gets you out of wining and dining me tomorrow, though,” she threatens. 

Tyson leans down to kiss Madison. “I don’t put out on the first date,” he murmurs.

Madison drags him closer, slots her mouth against his again. “Bit late for that, babe.”

Madison wakes up late the next morning, bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Tyson’s already awake, sitting up against the headboard and fucking around on his phone. He never got dressed besides finding his boxers, and his glasses are slipping down his nose. He grins down at her when he realizes she’s awake. 

“You’re a dork,” Madison says, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow again. Tyson pokes her shoulder blade, and she turns her head enough to glare at him. 

“Brunch in bed, or go somewhere?” Tyson asks, poking Madison again.

Madison’s not wearing anything, either, and she’d have to shower and fix her hair before they could leave the hotel room. “Bed,” she says, burrowing back into her pillow. Actually, it might be one of Tyson’s pillows. It’s hers now.

Tyson chuckles and rolls out of bed to hunt down the room service menu. He orders a bunch of stuff that they can share, but makes sure to include an omelet for Madison. He learned a while ago that she always has to have an omelet with breakfast. He’s also learned not to question it. He jumps back onto the bed. Madison bounces with it, and turns once more to glare at him. 

Her hair’s a disaster, and Tyson thinks he can see a hickey he left low on her neck. He loves her so much. He remembers he can tell her that now.

“I love you,” he blurts. Madison’s face softens. “Also, breakfast in thirty.” He tugs a little on the sheet where it’s slipping down Madison’s shoulders. “Plenty of time for…”

“For what, Tyson?” Madison asks. She’s laughing, now, and she rolls over, letting Tyson slide between her thighs and kiss her, slow and easy. 

He has to fish his boxers out of the sheets again when room service knocks on the door, but it’s worth it.

Madison drags herself out of bed after they eat. Tyson’s promised her plans all day, so she and Tyson take turns showering and making themselves presentable. Tyson holds Madison’s hand from the door of the hotel room until they reach his car, and even then, he only lets go after he opens the door for her and kisses her on the cheek.

It’s a warm spring day, and Tyson drives with the windows down through downtown St. Paul. He refuses to tell Madison where he’s taking her.

“Can we at least get coffee if you’re going to kidnap me?” Madison whines.

“I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you willingly got in the car,” Tyson points out mildly. He pulls into the next Starbucks drive-thru he sees, though, so Madison’s pretty sure she wins the argument.

Placated with caffeine, she stops pestering Tyson for details, but it’s only another few minutes before he’s turning into a parking lot for Como Park Zoo.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Madison asks. She’d idly mentioned, a while ago, that she wanted to visit the Denver Zoo when it got warmer. She had no idea that Tyson would remember that.

Tyson smirks at her. “I think it’s a little smaller than Denver Zoo—”

Madison cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s gonna be great.”

And it is great. Madison all but runs between animal exhibits, and Tyson’s more than happy to be dragged along by the hand, even though he thinks his nose is getting sunburned. They entertain themselves by naming the animals after his old teammates.

“You can’t name them all EJ,” Madison says at one point. 

“Well, why not?” Tyson argues. Madison…doesn’t have a good argument for that, actually.

There’s gardens, too, and they wander through those after they’ve looped around the zoo, holding hands the whole time. Madison’s pretty sure she enjoys the flowers more than Tyson, but he waits good-naturedly when she stops to point out a pretty flower or to take some pictures. It all feels like a date, which Madison supposes it is, actually.

“Hey, wait,” Tyson says suddenly, after Madison stands back up from taking a photo. “We should get a picture of us.” He snatches Madison’s phone from her hand. 

There’s an older couple nearby, and Tyson approaches them with a smile. Madison can hear him asking if one of them would mind, “taking a picture of me and my girlfriend?” She’s sure she’s blushing when Tyson comes back over and winds an arm around her waist. She smiles obligingly at the camera next to Tyson, and doesn’t even flinch when he turns and smacks a kiss to her cheek for the last one.

Tyson’s gracious and sweet as he takes Madison’s phone back, but he turns on Madison with an evil glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” Madison says, turning and walking away from Tyson so he can’t see that she’s still blushing.

Tyson jogs to keep up, spinning around and walking backwards so he can keep smirking at Madison. “You liked hearing me call you my girlfriend, huh?”

“Shut up,” Madison says again.

Tyson steps in front of Madison suddenly, blocking her path completely. She bumps into him. He’s still grinning. “Get used to it fast, because I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.” Madison claps a hand over his mouth before he can literally start yelling about it. Tyson pries her hand away and uses it to pull her in for a kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs. The novelty of hearing that from Tyson hasn’t worn off, either.

Madison kisses him again because she can. 

They head out not long after that. Tyson starts insisting that they can’t be late for their dinner reservation, even though it’s still early afternoon. Madison lets him take her by the hand again and all but drag her back to the car. 

She’s suddenly tired once she’s sitting back in the passenger seat, the sun and the walking catching up to her. She rests her head on the window while Tyson drives, fighting back a yawn. Tyson still catches her, and he reaches across to poke her in the thigh. She swats half-heartedly at his hand.

“Do I have time to take a nap?” Madison murmurs.

“What? No way!” He pokes Madison harder. “I’m supposed to be wining and dining you, remember?” 

“But I’m sleepy,” Madison whines. She’ll rally, probably; she needs to complain a little first. Tyson pokes her harder.

“That’s not allowed,” Tyson says. It’s not a long drive back to the hotel, and they’re most of the way back there already. Tyson checks the time on the dashboard. There’s still a few hours before their dinner reservation. “Okay, how about a mini nap?” he allows. “But we’re setting like three alarms.” 

It’s important to him that he still gets this first date right, even if they have done their entire relationship backwards. They got to the right place in the end, though, right?

Madison crashes into bed as soon as they’re back in the room. Tyson considers her for a moment. She’s already wriggled under the sheets, but she’s lying directly in the middle of the bed.

Tyson collapses on top of Madison. He catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t completely crush her, because he’s nice like that. Madison giggles, but she squirms and tries to elbow Tyson.

Her voice is muffled into the pillow as she tries to say, “Get off me.”

Tyson lets his weight press her further into the mattress. “Nope, ‘m comfy.” He does fish his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm and roll off Madison. He pulls Madison close as soon as he lands on his side next to her. “Shh, sleep now.”

They’re both jolted awake half an hour later when Tyson’s alarm goes off. Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson kisses the top of her head where she’s tucked under his chin.

“We need to get up,” Tyson whispers. Madison blinks sleepily up at him. 

Tyson forces himself to disentangle himself from Madison. When she doesn’t get up after him, he grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the end of the bed, ignoring her laughter and shrieks.

Tyson follows Madison into the bathroom after she digs her makeup bag and curling iron out of her suitcase, plops himself down on the marble countertop of the sink. Madison raises her eyebrow at him as she plugs the curling iron in and turns it on. Tyson beams at her.

“I wanna watch,” Tyson says simply, still smiling innocently.

He does watch, intent on Madison as she starts to section her hair.

“What’s that for?” he asks. He hands Madison a hair clip.

She brandishes the curling iron at him. “So it’s easier to curl.” 

Tyson’s quiet for a few more minutes before he slides Madison’s makeup bag closer and starts pawing through it. He pulls items out one by one and starts asking questions, mostly more of, “What’s this for?”—a makeup sponge, eyeliner, one of those jumbo eyeshadow crayons—until most of the contents of Madison’s makeup bag are strewn across the counter around Tyson. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” Madison teases. Tyson snaps a compact of blush shut, surveys the damage he’s done. Madison’s momentarily distracted by Tyson’s shenanigans, and one of her fingers brushes across the hot barrel of the curling iron. “Ah, shit,” she hisses.

Tyson’s immediately serious. “Are you okay?” He grabs at Madison’s hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect her finger. Madison bites her lip to keep from laughing. Tyson frowns before carefully pulling Madison’s finger to his lips, kissing it gently. “There. All better.” 

“I love you,” Madison hears herself saying. She’s not used to being able to just say it. Tyson beams at her again.

Tyson behaves himself while Madison finishes her hair and makeup, though he does giggle at the faces Madison pulls while she’s trying to apply mascara. He even helps put away all the makeup he got out. He finally hops off the counter to start getting ready himself.

Madison grabs his wrist when he reaches for the bottle of hair gel. “Nope, I’m rescinding your gel privileges.” She dies a little inside every time she sees a new photo of Tyson and his curls smothered in gel. Tyson squirms, trying to free his hand; Madison tightens her grip.

“Just a little?” Tyson pleads. 

“No, I like your curls!” For emphasis, Madison cards her free hand through Tyson’s curls.

Tyson grumbles at her and tries to tamp his hair back down. “You’re gonna make it frizzy,” he complains. Madison is still tightly holding onto his wrist. “Ugh, fine, but just for tonight.” 

Madison releases his wrist and kisses Tyson’s cheek as she steps past him out of the bathroom. Tyson blinks at himself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

Madison’s changed into a dress when Tyson finally makes his way out of the bathroom, too, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide on a pair of heels. She watches Tyson change with a small smile on her face. Tyson takes Madison’s hand and pulls her to her feet, twirling her once before pulling her close for a kiss.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Tyson says, and Madison has to laugh.

Dinner is pretty nice, as first dates go. Tyson picked a good restaurant—good food, nice environment, but not so fancy Madison feels out of her depth—and Madison already knows that he’s good for conversation. The good thing about falling in love before you actually start dating is that you’ve already gotten the awkwardness and discomfort out of the way already, Madison supposes.

She’s even mostly immune to the sad eyes Tyson directs at her as he pleads his case for getting dessert. Mostly. (They end up splitting a slice of tiramisu.)

The weekend passes too quickly. Madison blinks and suddenly she’s standing in the middle of Tyson’s hotel room, trying to figure out if she’s forgotten to re-pack anything. 

“Stay,” Tyson begs. “A few more days, through the beginning of the series.”

“Tyson, I can’t, I have to get back to Denver for work, you know that.”

Tyson does know that, but he also hates coming back to a dark and empty hotel room every night after games. He tries to tackle Madison to the bed, but she side-steps Tyson and crosses her arms at him, disapproval in her eyes. Tyson feels a bit like a scolded child for a moment. 

“What if I refuse to drive you to the airport, huh? Then you’ll have to stay.” Tyson knows it’s a weak argument, but he’s desperate here. 

Madison’s glare softens. She cups Tyson’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Tyson, but I really have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay? We’ll figure something out.” She punctuates this with a kiss. Tyson leans into it, his hands tight on Madison’s waist. 

“Soon,” Tyson repeats. “I love you,” he adds.

Madison kisses him again, and Tyson slips a hand beneath her shirt, her skin warm beneath his hand. She shudders and kisses him harder. They both startle when the alarm Madison set to make sure they leave for the airport on time goes off. Tyson tries to follow her when she pulls away to silence it.

“Time to go,” Madison says sadly.

After Tyson drops Madison off at Departures, he’s grateful that she’s not there to see him wipe away some tears. 

May

Madison sees the Avs’ WAG jackets on Instagram the night they start the first round. The WIld had played the night before, an ugly loss Madison hadn’t been able to tear her attention away from. She could have had one of those jackets, sitting next to Syd and all the other girls. Instead, she’s back in her apartment in Denver, alone. 

She wishes she could have stayed in Minnesota with Tyson for the first two games of the series. She gets a text from Tyson after the game that’s just a thumbs down emoji. Madison “dislikes” it out of solidarity. Tyson doesn’t call her that night. Madison has to remind herself that it’s okay, that they don’t have to talk all the time.

She watches anxiously two nights later as the Wild drag out a win, clutching a glass of wine for emotional support the whole time. 

Before she can think too hard about it, Madison’s opening her laptop. She’s in the middle of searching flights to St. Louis when her phone rings. It’s Tyson, and Madison doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I miss you,” she says, before Tyson can get a greeting out. She has perhaps had a little too much wine. 

He chuckles. “It’s been less than a week, baby.” But then he adds, “I miss you, too.”

Madison shoves her laptop away and flops backwards on her bed. Last minute plane tickets are so expensive. So are playoff hockey tickets, apparently. She wonders if it would be easier to just drive to St. Louis.

“Wish I could be there,” she says next, even though she had just turned down Tyson when he’d asked her to stay. 

“Yeah, me too,” Tyson says after a beat. He doesn’t offer to fly Madison out again, though Madison can tell he wants to.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s only a few clicks away from buying herself tickets and meeting him in Missouri. Though she should probably do it while she’s not sober, before she can talk herself out of it in the morning. 

“Oh, good game, by the way,” Madison remembers to say.

Tyson huffs. “Are you already in bed?” Tyson asks. Madison can hear him banging around his hotel room, tinny and muffled where her phone has slid off her pillow. 

“Sorta,” Madison tells him. She pulls her laptop closer again. She could fly out after work and make it to the arena without missing too much of the game, probably. She winces again at the outrageous prices for the game. There aren’t even any good seats left.

Tyson speaks again. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say good night to you.” 

“In a minute,” she whines. She’s trying to remember her credit card number without having to get up and dig it out of her purse.

Tyson must hear her keyboard clacking. “What are you still doing on your computer?”

“Online shopping,” Madison lies. Well, half-lies. She is spending plenty of money right now. She triple-checks that her flight is booked correctly and that she purchased the ticket for the game before she finally slams her laptop shut and tosses it aside. “There, I’m done,” she tells Tyson.

“Buy anything good?” Tyson asks through a yawn. 

“Hope so, we’ll see.”

On Friday, Madison rushes off the plane, rushes through baggage claim, and rushes through renting a car. She’s cutting it close on time, with less than half an hour until puck drop. She drives as carefully and quickly as she can on the unfamiliar roads to the arena, one eye on the clock the whole time. The streets and parking around Enterprise Center are a fucking nightmare, but when she finally parks and makes it to the front doors, there’s still lines of people milling about, waiting to get in, too.

Madison checks her watch. Puck dropped five minutes ago. She pushes around a group of people who are somehow already drunk and towards the front of a line. All hockey arenas are the same, in a way, but Madison is immediately overwhelmed and disoriented. The first period is half over by the time she manages to get to the upper level and settle in her seat, but at least she finally made it. 

Madison takes a photo of the ice and texts it to Tyson with her usual black heart emoji. He’ll see it eventually. 

Madison has to keep herself from cheering too loudly for every Wild goal, surrounded by Blues fans as she is, and she’s probably one of the only people in the arena who’s happy when the Wild manage a neat win. 

She follows the throngs of people outside and back to her rental car. She has a text from Tyson waiting for her, just a string of exclamation marks. Another text comes through while she’s waiting for traffic to thin out, a request for Madison to call Tyson in all capital letters. Tyson’s breathless when he answers Madison’s call. “What the hell are you doing in St. Louis?” 

“Surprise?” Madison says weakly. 

Tyson laughs. “Hell of a surprise, babe.” He must pull his phone away from his ear, because Madison can still hear him speaking, but distantly. “Hang on, I’m trying to get you the address of the hotel, you can meet me there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madison says. Tyson’s gone again, not really listening.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you where to go, and I’ll see you soon, okay?” He hangs up without letting Madison reply, but he texts again seconds later with the name and address of the team hotel. 

Madison is anxiously idling in the hotel driveway when the team bus pulls in behind her. Tyson bounds off the bus almost before it comes to a full stop, and he races over to Madison’s car door and taps on the window.

Madison rolls down the window. “And what if it hadn’t been me in the car?” she teases.

Tyson is reaching through the now-open window to try and unlock the door, his tongue sticking out the way it does when he’s focusing on the ice. “I would have apologized. A lot.” He successfully presses the unlock button and yanks the car door open. “Come here, come here,” he says.

Madison laughs and climbs out of the car. Both of her feet aren’t even out of the car before Tyson’s sweeping her up in a hug so tight she swears she can feel her ribs shift. He sets her down and immediately cups her face.

“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re here.” Tyson narrows his eyes, and he squishes Madison’s cheeks where he’s still holding her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

Madison pries Tyson’s hands away enough to talk. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tyson’s teammates are still filtering off the bus, and they should probably move inside, too. “Can you let go of me so I can get my bag out of the trunk?” she asks.

Tyson considers this. He slides one hand down Madison’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together. He also leans into the car and deftly turns it off, holding the keys up with a grin. He nudges the door shut. “We can get your bag out of the trunk.” He proceeds to drag Madison around to the back of the car and drags her suitcase out of the back with his free hand. He stares between the suitcase in his hand and the open trunk before Madison takes pity on him and slams the trunk shut.

Madison hangs back while Tyson hands the car keys off to a valet, and then he’s dragging her towards the elevators, happily rolling Madison’s suitcase in front of him. At least the rest of the Wild players have all disappeared, sparing Madison from their stares and jeers. She tucks herself closer to Tyson in the elevator, suddenly self-conscious. Tyson kisses her temple.

Madison is suddenly exhausted as soon as they enter Tyson’s room. Tyson flips the light on as Madison kicks off her shoes. Tyson left the curtains open earlier, and Madison can see the Arch, lit up above the river, through the window. She’s too tired to give it more than a half-hearted glance on her way to face-planting into the pillows. 

Tyson’s laughing when she rolls over and brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he says, jumping onto the bed next to Madison, and, really, that’s all that matters.

The Wild lose the next game at Enterprise, and Madison holds Tyson tightly for a long time in the hall outside the locker room before he has to get on a plane. They lose again at home, then yet again back in St. Louis. 

Just like that, hockey season is over. 

Tyson calls Madison after the last game. He sounds like he’s been crying, but he tries to be cheerful for Madison. She just wishes she could hug him, but she’s back in Denver. She knows the Avs swept the Predators already, and they’ll be facing St. Louis next. It’s not difficult to imagine how Tyson feels about that. 

“Come home with me,” Tyson blurts. He’s on the phone with Madison, getting ready to leave his Minnesota hotel room behind. He survived locker cleanout and exit interviews, and now he’s ready to sleep for about a week.

Madison, in the middle of complaining at work, freezes. “I—what?” She takes another moment to process. “Aren’t you coming back to Denver first?” Madison knows his apartment sits half-abandoned, filled with things too difficult or unnecessary to move after the trade. 

“Well, yeah, but like, after. You should come home with me,” Tyson repeats. He’s been dying to introduce her to his mom for months. He hopes his mom likes Madison as much as he does. He is a little worried about his sanity if Madison and Kacey get along as well as he thinks they will, though. 

“I’ve never been to Canada before,” Madison says thoughtfully. She’s barely travelled abroad at all, except for one trip to the UK after she graduated high school. Her passport has been collecting dust since then. 

“So you’ll come?” Tyson asks. 

“Is there even anything to do in Edmonton?” Madison teases.

“There’s so much to do, like—” Tyson pauses. It’s been a while since he’s had to play tourist back home. Madison is giggling on the other end of the line. “Shut up, we’ll figure something out.”

Tyson feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months when he steps out of the airport in Denver. He wonders if any place will ever feel like home the way Denver does.

Tyson had managed to wheedle JT into picking him up, and he even brought coffee. Tyson ignores the way it almost feels like an apology. JT has nothing to be apologizing for, but Tyson just sips his coffee. 

The apartment smells stale when they walk in. Tyson’s mom had done a good job of cleaning for him, at least, and there aren’t any dirty dishes still stacked in the sink. He and JT are quiet as they walk through the apartment, opening windows. Tyson feels like he’s walking through someone else’s life. He stares for too long at his bed, freshly made and untouched for weeks. 

He shakes it off and goes to find the moving boxes.

“So, this is it, huh?” JT says.

He could be talking about all the boxes they’ve spent the last few hours filling boxes and separating them into piles to be shipped off to Minnesota—Tyson finally signed a lease for an apartment there—or to be sent back home for his family to deal with. An alarming amount of Tyson’s clothes is Avalanche-branded gear, and more of it got packed away to keep than Tyson is willing to admit. 

He could also be talking about the end of everything they’ve known together in Denver. Tyson’s spent years accepting the fact that hockey is a business before everything else, has gotten used to the revolving door of teammates each season. It’s been a long time since Rookie House days with Kerf. Tyson is going to walk out that apartment door, and he’s never going to be able to go back. A chapter—or book, really—in the story of his life ended for good. 

Tyson sighs. “This is it.”

The apartment is stripped bare when Madison steps through the door, left unlocked by JT and Tyson.

She drops her laptop bag and kicks off her shoes, saying, “You should be more careful, anybody could just walk in here.”

Tyson drops the box he’s holding and whirls around. Madison winces as its contents rattle. There’s no time to say anything else before Tyson is bounding across the room and wrapping her in a huge hug. 

“What, no hug for me?” JT asks from somewhere behind them. Tyson turns to glare at him, but Madison shoots him a smile.

“Hey, JT,” she says. She lets JT drape an arm around her in a half-hug.

“Betrayal,” Tyson says. He is ignored. 

They leave most of the boxes for the moving company to deal with. Madison bundles Tyson into her car with his bags of clothes, complaining the whole time about wanting dinner. She lets Tyson hold her hand across the console as she drives him to her apartment. 

It’s not the first time Tyson’s been to Madison’s apartment, but it still feels strange to be there instead of his own. They’ve spent so much time there the past few months, watching movies on the couch, doing things other than sleeping in the bed. He misses it already, all the memories they made as they fumbled their way into a relationship. 

He says as much to Madison, expecting her to tease him for something so objectively dumb—to miss an apartment he lived in half of the time for like six months—but the look she gives him is almost sad.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” she says. Tyson pulls her in by the hips, letting her lean her weight on him. “But I guess we’ll just have to keep making more memories, yeah?” 

Later that night, tangled up in Madison’s sheets, Tyson stares at the dark ceiling. He can feel Madison, looking rumpled and in his shirt, watching him. She nudges his calf with her toes. He doesn’t look at her, focused on keeping his eyes from welling up. Then Madison’s hand is on his cheek, turning his head towards her.

“How you doin’, bud?” 

Tyson lets Madison pull him close and hold him tightly. He slides a hand under her shirt and to the bare skin of her hip, just feeling the comforting warmth of her skin. 

“What if it’s never like this again?” Tyson whispers back. This—Denver and the Avalanche, friends who become family; Madison in bed next to him, loving him and wearing his clothes. Minnesota had been okay, but Tyson worked his ass off and never felt settled. Maybe it was the endless hotel life, maybe it was the team, maybe it was him. He feels like a child, begging his mom to tell him everything was going to be okay. 

Madison doesn’t know how to comfort Tyson. It probably never will be like this again. Madison can’t see the future, and she can’t promise Tyson anything, either. “I don’t know, baby,” Madison admits. “I don’t know.” 

Tyson doesn’t cry, but they both lay awake for a long time. 

June

They fly into Edmonton together on Friday. Tyson seems nervous the whole flight and all the way through the airport. At baggage claim, as they wait for their suitcases, Madison turns on him.

“What’s up with you?” she asks. Tyson blinks at her like he forgot she was there. “You’re not seriously this worried about me meeting your family, are you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know!” Tyson crosses his arms. He’s pretty sure his suitcase just spun past them on the carousel. He lowers his voice. “I don’t really bring girls home, I don’t know. I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”

“Oh, Tys. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Madison tosses her hair, and Tyson manages a weak smile. “Your family is going to love me so much they’ll forget you even exist.”

“Hey!”

Tyson had lobbied hard for taking an Uber from the airport, to give Madison and himself a few last moments of peace before a week with his family, but his mom had put her foot down and insisted on picking them up. She’s already idling at the curb when they step out of the airport.

Madison calls shotgun, leaving Tyson to throw their suitcases in the trunk and slide into the backseat. His mom is in the middle of telling Madison, “Call me Laura, please!” Madison turns in her seat to grin at Tyson as his mom pulls away and starts driving out of the airport. She refrains from grilling Madison on the short drive home, something Tyson is grateful for. He zones out while Madison explains where she grew up and what she does and lets himself relax back into his seat.

Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the house, and Kacey is sprinting out the front door to greet them. Tyson groans, but he eagerly shoves his car door open before the car is in park and lets Kacey jump on him. 

Madison gets out of the car at a more leisurely—and sane—pace, and Kacey turns to wrap her in a hug as soon as she lets go of Tyson.

“I’m Kacey,” she says, pulling away and gripping Madison by the shoulders. “The better Jost sibling.”

Tyson pulls on Kacey’s ponytail. She smacks him in the chest without turning around. Tyson’s about to lunge and get Kacey in a headlock when their mom yells, “Behave,” at them from the front door.

Madison’s looking faintly overwhelmed. Tyson mouths “You okay?” at her over Kacey’s shoulder. Madison just grins and lets Kacey grab her by the hand and drag her inside. He’s pretty sure he hears Kacey telling her how much their grandparents can’t wait to meet her as they go. He shakes his head and retrieves their luggage from the trunk.

He’s missed all the introductions by the time he makes it inside. Madison sits on the couch next to Kacey, the spot on Madison’s other side left conspicuously open. Tyson ignores Kacey’s smirk and plops himself down next to Madison. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Tyson’s grandpa asks.

Tyson refrains from glaring at him. Madison laughs next to him.

“He picked me up in a bar, and I had no idea he was a hockey player,” she says. Tyson had almost forgotten about that part. “We kinda just…kept seeing each other after that.” 

That’s a delicate way of putting it.

“So you’re the reason Tyson ditched us over Christmas, huh?” Kacey asks next. She’s smirking again, directed straight at Tyson over Madison’s head. Tyson has not forgotten that part, struggling to lie to Kacey and his mom.

“Kacey!” Tyson and his mom both protest, but Madison just laughs again. Something about the question melts all of the tension out of her shoulders. She turns a little to lean against Tyson.

“Yeah, that was me,” Madison says. Tyson can’t see her face, but she doesn’t sound very sheepish. She tilts her chin to look up at Tyson. “I should’ve known something was up when he couldn’t go more than a few days without seeing me.” “Hey,” Tyson protests again, weakly. She’s right, though. They really should have figured out their shit sooner, but they got to the right place eventually. 

Conversation drifts away from the topic of their relationship after that. Tyson drapes an arm across Madison’s shoulders. After a while of catching up—Tyson and hockey season, or Kacey and her school year—mixed in with his family asking Madison questions to get to know her better, Tyson’s mom and grandma head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

Madison tries to follow and offer to help, but Tyson tightens his arm around her. He kisses her forehead, whispering, “Stay here,” into her hair. Madison stays.

They’re getting ready for bed later—banished to separate rooms, of course—when Madison notices Tyson getting nervous again.

“What’s up?” Madison asks, sliding between him and the bathroom sink. They’re pushing it, probably, spending this long in the bathroom with the door closed. 

Tyson shrugs. ���Worried about you and Kacey spending all night gossiping.” They’d really hit it off over dinner, which Tyson is simultaneously grateful for and horrified by. From the look Madison gives him, she’s not buying it. “It’s just…the Avs are in town tomorrow night, and I got tickets, and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I want to go, and—”

Madison cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Tyson, I’d love to go to the game with you.”

Tyson relaxes again, and Madison moves her hand. Tyson takes the opportunity to bully her up against the sink and kiss her. Tyson’s just getting into it when Kacey bangs on the bathroom door. He’s pretty sure he accidentally bites Madison’s lip when he jerks away. Madison grumbles at him, but she ducks around him to open the door. Tyson tries not to whine about it.

Going to the game together the next night is strange. Tyson hasn’t been to Rogers Place and not been playing a game since he was a kid, probably. Madison had never really been to a hockey game before she’d met Tyson, and she’s definitely never gone to a game with Tyson. 

They mostly go unnoticed, except for a handful of people who stop Tyson and ask for a picture. Madison hangs back while he politely smiles at the camera. It’s easy to fade into the crush of the crowd, and Tyson keeps a tight hold and Madison’s hand as they make their way through the concourse and to their seats.

After that, it’s just like any other hockey game. Cheering for the Avalanche is familiar, even if the way Tyson is squeezing Madison’s hand at every single scoring chance is not. She’d tease him for his nervousness, especially because the Avalanche are winning easily, except for the fact that she knows it had to be hard for him to come out tonight. To cheer for his old team, his friends, knowing that with every win they’re one step closer to something he can’t be a part of. 

So she lets him hold her hand as tightly as he wants. It’s the best she can offer. 

They don’t linger after the game. Tyson seems eager to escape the arena, and Madison lets him lead her back to the car. He puts on a Spotify playlist and turns the volume up loud, but he’s mostly quiet on the drive to the house, one hand on the wheel, one hand on Madison’s thigh.

Madison gets caught up talking to Laura when they get to the house, and she loses track of Tyson for a while. He’s not upstairs in his old bedroom, or even bugging Kacey in her bedroom. Madison ventures outside. Tyson has dragged a lawn chair out to the driveway, but he’s laying on his back on the cold concrete, staring up at the dim stars. The moon is just a sliver in the sky. 

Madison nudges him with her foot. He wraps a hand around her ankle, squeezes once.

“You alive down there?”

Tyson makes a sound that almost passes for a laugh. Madison is pretty sure his eyes are wet, shiny in the dark. Madison lays down next to him. The concrete is hard against her shoulder blades, and it feels damp through her thin T-shirt. 

“This fucking sucks,” Tyson says. It’s too loud for how late it is, and his voice echoes a little around the quiet street. He rubs a hand angrily across his face. “I want to be out there, playing for the Cup, not fucking sitting in the arena watching them. I guess I should be happy for them because they’re my friends, you know? But I kinda want to hate them, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches for Madison’s hand, brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her palm, before settling their clasped hands on his chest. “I might not have asked for a trade if I had known it would be this shitty,” he admits.

“It’s okay to be mad, Tyson,” Madison says gently.

“It’s not—I don’t know if I’m mad. I wish I could be.”

“It’s okay to be sad, too,” she says.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, voice thick. 

They’re both quiet for so long, Madison’s half-certain Tyson’s fallen asleep, if not for his occasional sniffle. He sits up after a while, still holding Madison’s hand. Even in the dark, Madison can see him yawn.

“Ready for bed?” Madison asks.

Tyson nods. “D’you think I can sneak you into my bed?”

He pulls Madison to her feet as she lets out a startled laugh. Tyson kisses her quiet. “I’m willing to get in trouble if you are.”

The house is dark when they slip back inside. They giggle their way through brushing their teeth, close together at the bathroom sink, elbows bumping. Tyson shushes her loudly as they tiptoe carefully down the hall. Madison’s pretty sure he’s being louder than her, but whatever.

Madison wakes to an empty bed and late morning sunlight. She can hear Tyson’s voice drifting up the stairs. That boy truly does not know how to be quiet. Madison has an Instagram notification when she swipes her phone off the bedside table: josty17 has tagged you in a post. Madison frowns and unlocks her phone, wondering what unflattering photo of her Tyson took. Instead, it’s a photo Kacey or Laura must have taken the morning before. Madison’s laying on top of Tyson on the couch, Tyson visibly complaining that he’s being squished, despite the fact that he had pulled Madison on top of him. He captioned it with a black heart emoji. 

Madison makes her way downstairs. Tyson sits at the kitchen table, arguing with Kacey over something stupid. He reaches a hand out for Madison without stopping whatever he’s ranting about. There’s a fresh mug of coffee in his hand, already doctored the way Madison likes it. Tyson uses his now-free hand to loop around Madison’s waist and tug her onto his lap. She hooks her arms around Tyson’s neck and sips her coffee, content to listen to this argument, even though she’s still not sure what they’re arguing about. She thinks she hears something about which fruit would make the best weapon. 

It might not be easy, but Madison thinks they’ll be just fine.

#cait writes things #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche fic #minnesota wild fic #buffalo sabres fic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #tyson jost fanfiction

[nateslehky]

boyfriends if you ask me

#cale makar #nathan mackinnon #natecale #829 #as someone writing a college/frat au this is doing LOADS for me personally idk #colorado avalanche #avs

[ahonice]

Until Now

Until Now

Cale Makar x Reader x Tyson Jost

Warnings: drinking, toxic relationships, some sexual scenes but no actual smut (ok maybe a little smut, depends on what you define it as).

WC: 11k (got a little carried away sorry babes)

*Some things might not actually match up to the real life timeline and something just straight up never happened, this is a work of fiction.*

*March 15th 2022*

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset.”

That phrase only made you more upset. Tyson had just found out he was being traded a couple hours before and he immediately began packing his things, and yours.

“Tyson I cannot just pick up my life and move across the country. My friends are here, my family is here, I have a job that I love here, I am not leaving.” 

“If any of the other guys were traded their partners wouldn’t have to think twice about going with them. Why do you have to be so difficult? Quit your job, I can provide for the two of us, and we can come back to visit during the holidays. All I want is my girlfriend and for us to be there for each other.”

“No, what you want is a trophy wife and I will not be that. This is over Tyson, thanks for the headstart on packing my shit. I’ll be back in the morning to get all my stuff.”

***

You had plenty of options of where to stay overnight, plenty of them having no ties with Tyson or any of the Avalanche players for that matter, but you still found yourself at Cale’s front door. After knocking and getting no answer you began heading towards the stairwell but the sound of a door opening stopped you.

“Y/n? What are you doing here? It's late, come in.” 

“He is getting traded.”

“I know, it’s so unfortunate, I’m gonna miss him.”

Cale didn’t just assume you were leaving your life in Colorado behind, you appreciated that.

“We broke up. He wanted me to just drop everything and follow him like I’m some sad little puppy who can’t function without its owner.” 

“Oh. Well, do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

Yes. “No. Just wanted a friend to talk to, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now.”

And that is what Cale was that night, a friend for you to talk to, as well as a friend who did not let you leave once the both of you realized it was almost 3am and gave you his guest bed to sleep on.

 ***

You had called out of work on your way to Cale’s last night knowing you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to teach rambunctious high school students about whichever history course of yours they were enrolled into. 

Walking out of the guest room you were met with an empty apartment, which was to be expected as the Avalanche had a practice scheduled at this time. I cleaned up any mess I made in the guest bedroom and tidied up around the living room, texting Cale a thank you for everything before slipping out of his apartment and heading over to yours.

***

“Where did you go last night? None of your friends could tell me where you were, I was worried sick.”

The first words to come out of Tyson’s mouth upset you more than they probably should’ve.

“I’m not yours to worry about anymore Tyson.”

You walked towards the bedroom without another word, more rage blinded you as you saw all of your things Tyson had previously packed now out of their boxes and put back where they used to belong. 

Before you were able to yell out towards your ex you felt a presence at the door.

“I’m not breaking the lease, this is where you live too. I’m not just gonna leave you with nowhere to stay, I’m not that cruel.” 

“I can’t afford this place by myself, you know that.”

It was true, while you loved your job, you were still a public school teacher in a very underfunded school district. Tyson always offered to just cover all of the rent, but ended up settling for a 70/30 split rent, you insisted on helping out even if it was the smallest amount of money. 

“I know, I paid for the next three months in advance. If you plan on moving out please just wait three months, I know you don’t like money wasted.”

“Tyson, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He trailed off realizing the time. “I should go, I have a flight to catch.”

You nodded, sniffling. You don’t know when you teared up, but they were now clouding your vision. 

“Baby, please don’t cry. I know we aren’t together anymore, but I don’t want to lose contact with you. Please reach out to me, I know I will reach out to you.”

“What about Cleo?” 

Cleo, the cat you two had together, had never been Tyson’s biggest fan. You liked to blame it on her not liking men, but Tyson always fired back with a “She loves Cale.” That was true, she loved Cale, probably more than she loved you.

“She can stay here with you, she would probably run away if I took her.”

You laughed at his statement.

“She would miss Cale too much anyways. “ You joked. “Thank you.”

“Of course, you know she loves you more than me.”

“No Tys, thank you for everything. These past three years have been amazing, I love you.”

“I love you too Y/n.” His phone ringing interrupted him. “I really need to go, my uber is here. Don’t be a stranger Y/n, I expect to be hearing from you.”

***

*April 11th 2022*

Tyson definitely reached out more than you did, but he still got the occasional message from you with an update on Cleo or something that happened to you during work that day. He did get a picture of you in the jersey he sent just days after he moved out, the green material and the number 10 feeling foreign on you, having never worn anything with “JOST” on it that wasn’t navy or maroon. 

Almost a month later you sat in your apartment watching the Wild game, wearing Tyson’s jersey cuddled up with Cleo, who you had somehow gotten to wear the Wild bandana Tyson sent a few days ago, sending him a selfie of the two of you with a text message right after saying, “Rooting from you, Cleo isn’t suffering in that bandana for you to lose the game!” 

A knock on your door interrupted the trance you had been in while watching the game, your first plan to ignore whoever was at your door was abandoned as the person continued knocking, now almost banging on the door.

You cautiously opened the door, immediately fearing who or what could be behind that door.

“Hey.”

It was Cale.

“Hey Cale, what’s up.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while, just wanted to check in. You’ve been ignoring my messages and calls, I know because you’ve been ignoring everyone else.”

He has a right to sound as upset as he is. Cale, as well as all the rest of the Avalanche roster and their partners, have been given the cold shoulder ever since Tyson moved, but after almost two weeks of radio silence they had all seemed to give up, all but Cale.

“Look Cale I’m really sorry but I just couldn’t bring myself to be around his friends. Everything reminds me of him.”

“Is that why you’re wearing his jersey right now? To help get him off your mind?”

“Cale–”

The Canadian wouldn’t let you finish what you were gonna say.

“I’m taking you out to eat, I know you’re hungry. Go change.”

Cale always knew how to read you because you were starving. He made his way inside, shutting the door behind him and immediately making his way towards Cleo who was still laying on the couch. He pet her, quickly pulling off the Wild bandana she wore and making a mental note to buy her an Avalanche one.

“I can tell she has missed you. If you were anyone else she would be in my bedroom hiding.” You spoke, walking out of the bathroom is an old hoodie rather than Tyson’s jersey you were wearing just moments prior.

“I missed her too, did Tyson not want her?”

“No, he knows she doesn’t like him, she doesn’t like any men.” You spoke with a chuckle.

“She likes me.”

“That’s because you’re special Cale.”

He blushed as the two of you walked out, not even realizing you forgot your phone on the coffee table in the living room. A text from Tyson lighting up your phone reading, “I miss my girls, when I’m in Denver next can we meet for dinner?”

***

“There is no way that actually happened.” Cale laughed, nearly choking on his coffee. 

He had taken you to Waffle House as that was the only open that sounded somewhat appetizing, you had arrived nearly two hours before, the two of you getting lost in the conversation talking about anything and everything, which was now leading to the senior prank that was pulled last year.

“I swear, they took the tires off of the principal's car and placed them in the trophy display case.” 

“That is so funny, did they get in trouble?”

“Oh yea, they were suspended and weren’t allowed to walk at graduation, but I think it was worth it. It was hilarious.”

Soon the laughter faded out into a comfortable silence.

“We should probably head back, it’s almost 9pm. I’ve got work in the morning.” You said, even though you never wanted this night to end. 

***

Cale walked you up to your front door, claiming he wanted to see Cleo one more time.

“You know you can come see her whenever you want to? I’ll unmute your contact info, I was wrong to try and ignore you.”

“You had your reasons, but yes please do that. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You trailed off not knowing what to do, the tension in the air feeling all but friendly. Luckily the sound of your phone ringing cut through it, you quickly shuffled to where you had left your phone hours before. The screen lighting up with the name “Tyson 🤍” you never brought yourself to change his contact name. 

“It’s Tyson, tonight has been very fun. We should do it again soon, just message me whenever you're free.” Cale nodded, a quiet “Goodbye.” leaving his lips as he walked out the door.

You answered the phone, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.

“Hey Tyson.”

“Where were you?” 

“Tys–”

“No! You haven’t answered me in hours, i know you couldn’t have been sleeping because you keep your ringer one so where were you? Are you okay?”

His last question did not match his angry tone at all.

“I was out with a friend and I left my phone in the apartment. Tyson you have no right to yell at me like that.”

“Y/n I was worried, am I not allowed to be worried about my girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. Tyson, if I have to remind you that we are broken up one more time I don’t think I can play along with this whole “friends” act. I am not yours to worry about anymore.”

“Fine.”

“Tyson please stop messaging me, it is for the best. We both need to move on, our relationship is over and there is nothing we can do to fix it. Agreeing to stay friends was a big mistake.”

“There is something that we can do to fix our relationship, you can come move out here with me. I still love you Y/n and I know you still love me. Leave your job, I found a private school twenty minutes away from the arena that needs teachers.”

“Would you just stop it Tyson! We are over. I'm not leaving my life in Denver, I am done having this conversation with you. Goodbye Tyson, please stop contacting me.”

“Wait no Y/n please–”

You hung up before Tyson could finish his sentence.

***

 The next day Tyson would not stop calling you, during the school day you had to turn your phone completely off because “do not disturb” wasn’t even helping. By the time you arrived back at your apartment you’d had enough.

“Enough Tyson! I told you to leave me alone I’m blocking you–”

“Woah put the claws away, it’s just me.”

Cale.

“Oh I’m sorry Cale, I thought Tyson was calling me again.”

“Is he bothering you? Because I can talk to him for you.”

“No Cale it’s nothing you want to get involved in I promise.”

“Do you wanna meet for a late dinner after my game is over?”

“Yea I’d love to, good luck tonight by the way.”

You could hear his smile over the phone as he suggested you wear one of his jerseys tonight.

“--and put Cleo in that new Avalanche bandana I sent you.”

“Will do Cale, but I should probably go. I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye Y/n,”

***

The knock on your door pulled you out of your trance, quickly lowering the volume on your speaker as you walked towards the door to answer it.

“Hey Cale, you can come in, just give me a second to change and grab my shoes.” 

“Ok, take your time.” His breathing stopped as he saw you turn around, his name and number branded on your back. He quickly walked towards the couch to take a seat, noting what songs were playing over your speakers so he could play it in the car.

“What artist is this?” He asks as you walk out of your bedroom, still in his jersey, but in jeans instead of the sleep shorts you were wearing when you answered the door.

“Harry Styles, he is one of my favorite singers ever.”

“Oh yea the one from that band, you went to see him in concert last year?”

You found it sweet that he remembered. Tyson had joined you at the concert but couldn’t even bother to learn the name of the artist, who you so lovingly adore. 

“Yea I did, it was one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. I’ve been listening to him since he was in One Direction and I just love his music so much. I’ve begun collecting his merch, and I think I’m gonna start collecting his records. I don’t even have a record player though.” You looked up trying to catch your breath, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble, I don’t mean to annoy you.” You spoke looking down again, a blush forming on your cheeks.

Cale gently grabbed your chin, making me look up at him, “You don’t need to be sorry, I don’t think you realize how adorable it is when you’re talking about something you love.” 

“Be careful, if someone else heard you say that they might think you’re flirting with me.” You chuckled out.

“Well they would be correct.” Cale paused for a moment “We should go, I don’t know how busy Waffle House is going to be right now.” He finished while walking out your door leaving you standing in your living room too stunned to move.

“Did he actually just say that?”

“Yes I did, can we go now? I’m hungry.”

***

“Is everything ok? You’ve been silent all night.” Cale said. It was true, but he had just dropped a bomb on you.

“Did you mean what you said? That you were flirting with me? Do you actually not find it annoying when I talk? Because if you’re just here to pity me because of Tyson then just leave.” You blurted out, immediately embarrassed by your short rant.

“No Y/n, not at all. Nothing you could do would ever annoy me. Did Tyson ever make you feel that way? Because I will beat him up.”

“Cale, please, stop. Let's just forget about it, I don’t like talking about it.” 

“Ok, but please eat your food before I do. Somehow I’m still very hungry.

***

“Cale, we should probably head back, it’s almost 1am.”

“Oh my goodness I didn’t even realize how late it was getting, I just lose track of time when I’m with you.” Cale spoke while standing up and gathering his things, “-And I don’t mean that in a bad way, I really enjoy spending time with you.” 

“Thank you Cale, I appreciate you.” You said while following his actions. “I don’t think you realize how good it feels to hear those words, especially when the person saying them is being genuine.”

***

Cale knew there was something off about your relationship with Tyson, even before he had moved to Minnesota. The way you responded to compliments and criticisms spoke enough on how poorly Tyson had treated you, he wanted to make that right. He wanted you to accept compliments without arguing, and he wanted you to know that no criticism that was thrown your way would change the way he felt about you. Cale wanted you, he always had ever since the night he met you almost three years ago, the same night you met Tyson.

*May 9th 2019*

The Avalanche decided to celebrate their season coming to an end at a club in downtown Denver. That club just so happened to be where you were working as a bartender, the job you had while in college. 

“We better be making good tips tonight, these guys make like one million dollars a year.”

“Don’t be a bitch and that won’t be an issue.” You spoke laughing at your friend, Callie’s, reaction.

“Put your tits away Y/n.” She fires back while walking away to her side of the bar. You laugh while you finish preparing your side of the bar.

Soon enough it was time for the team to come up to the private floor, you had no idea how they would act. Would they be respectful? Would they be creepy? Either way you need to get those tips, college is expensive. 

“Y/n if you pull your tits out anymore i think you would flash them.” Callie said, fake judging you.

“I need money, and your ass is out Callie.”

“I also need money.” The two of you laughed but were quickly silenced by the sound of footsteps outside the door.

Your coworker led them inside and they all took seats, some at booths and some at the bar. You immediately began taking orders and working on drinks, trying to get everything done as quickly as possible as to have a little down time before the next rush of orders came through. After about 15 minutes the bar had died down and you were able to start talking, more gossiping than anything, with Callie. 

“That blonde with the red cheeks has not stopped staring at you, like not once has he even blinked.” Callie told you, not bothering to be quiet because no one was around, or so you had thought.

“I have also not taken my eyes off of you since I got here.” 

You and Callie quickly turned around to see a boy with curly brown hair.

“I’m Tyson by the way and you are?” Tyson gestured over towards you, making sure you knew who he was talking about. 

“I’m Y/n.” 

“And I’m Callie, not that either of you are acknowledging my existence right now.”

You giggled and apologized about your friend before falling into conversation with Tyson.

“So you aren’t old enough to drink, but you are old enough to be a bartender? How does that make sense.” 

“You have to be 18 to serve alcohol, 21 to drink alcohol. It’s just how this country works, you’re gonna have to get used to it Canada.”  

“I don’t mean to interrupt, well yeah I actually do, but Y/n you have a job to do that isn’t flirting with Tyson here.” Callie chimed in, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

“I am sorry but she is right, I have to get back to work. It was very nice meeting you though.” Tyson gave you a smile before you turned to take orders and make drinks for his teammates.

As you were making a drink someone sat down in the stool in front of you, the blonde Callie pointed out earlier who “hadn’t taken his eyes off you”. 

“Hey can I get you anything?” You asked, setting the whiskey sour down for the man who had ordered it.

“Do you have apple juice?” The blonde asked.

“I believe we do, would you like that with vodka? Or what do you want?” You asked back, a little confused because that wasn’t a question you were asked before.

“No, can I have just apple juice? I’m not old enough to drink and water is boring.” He said avoiding eye contact with you.

“Of course, just give me a second to find it.” You responded while looking around the bar for the bottle of apple juice. Handing the cup to him after you finished pouring it, he began asking about you and why you’re working as a bartender.

“Well I’m actually a student at The University of Denver and I work here for money to pay off my loan debt.” You told him. “I am a few days away from finishing my second year of school, so don’t worry about ordering apple juice, I would also have to order that if I were on the other side of this bar. I’m only 19.” 

“You aren’t allowed to drink alcohol, but you can make and serve alcoholic drinks? How does that make sense?” He asked you, almost baffled at the news you just told him.

“It confused me too Cale–” Another voice cut in, Tyson took the seat next to the boy who you have now been able to place a name on, Cale. “-Hello Y/n, it is nice to see you again. I was worried my teammates would steal you away from me for the rest of the night.” 

“Well they couldn’t even if they tried cause you would just interrupt them anyways.” You chirped at him, making it obvious that he just walked in on a conversation that you were really enjoying. 

“Alright well I was just gonna order another drink, and also was hoping to talk to you some more. Would it be ok if I joined in on you and Cale’s conversation Y/n?” He asked in a tone, knowing what your answer would be. 

“What would you like to drink Tyson?”

***

“Come on boys, they're closing.” A blonde man came up to grab both Cale and Tyson’s shoulders. They quickly nodded their heads towards the guy grinning at you with some of his teeth missing. Cale opened his mouth to say something, but Tyson had beat him to it.

“Can I get your number Y/n? I wanna take you out sometime.” A blush rose to your cheeks, you weren’t blind he was attractive and you would actually be stupid if you didn’t give it to him. So that’s what you did, not noticing the defeated look on Cale’s face. Tyson beat him by asking you out, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be your friend.

*May 2nd, 2022*

The first round of playoffs began tonight and you could tell Cale was nervous, but so were you. Not only for your friend, who so deserved to win the cup, but also at the fact that this was the first Avalanche game you would be attending since you and Tyson broke up as well as the first time you would even be speaking and seeing the other players and partners.

“Why don’t you wear my jersey tonight? I know you aren’t wearing your jacket so you’ll need something to wear.” Cale suggested, walking into your apartment already knowing you were struggling to pick out an outfit without even walking into your room. What he didn’t know was that you had your headphones on so you didn’t hear him come in or speak to you, Cale also didn’t know that you were only dressed in your underwear while rummaging through your closet. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as a crimson color crept up to his cheeks, sure he has seen you in a swimsuit before, but this was just different. He quickly turned around and tried to make his way out of your room unnoticed, tried to. He ran into your bedside table while walking out, causing your lamp to tumble over, and making you jump in reaction. Quickly whipping your head around and saw a very red Cale looking at the blue lace that covered your intimates, rubbing his neck in shame.

“Oh Cale, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in.” 

He was surprised at your tone, why weren’t you the littlest shocked at him seeing you basically naked, did you want him to see you like that? Were you into him like he was into you? He cut his own thoughts off.

“I’m so sorry, um I’ll just be in the living room waiting.” He spoke before basically running out of your room. You found it adorable how flustered he got, it was just some skin you didn’t really see the big deal.

You quickly got dressed in one of Cale’s jerseys and some black leather pants. Putting on some accessories and your signature perfume before walking into the living room and bending over to put on your booties, catching Cale staring at you once again. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to Cale, you always had been ever since the night you had met him. But nothing could ever happen, you were with Tyson, well you used to be. Cale was there for you whenever you needed it, he was everything you wanted in a partner. He was everything Tyson was and more. Maybe you did begin flirting with Cale a bit more noticeably a few weeks after the break up, but could anyone blame you it's Cale fucking Makar. 

“Ready to go?” you asked, turning to face him. He nodded in response quickly getting up, you could finally get a good look at his game day suit and god did he look good. Hiding the crush you had on him was getting harder and harder every moment. 

***

“Y/n! Ugh I have missed you so much!” Mel was quick to greet you once you stepped into the friends and family box. You had no idea how everyone would react to you attending an Avalanche game not as Tyson’s girlfriend, but as Cale’s friend. 

“Hey Mel, sorry I haven’t been in contact–” The captain's wife was quick to shut down your apologies.

“Don’t. I know it couldn’t have been easy to constantly surround yourself with things that remind you of him. I was a little surprised when Cale told us that you guys had been spending all your time together.” 

“Yea he has been a great support system for me, it feels nice to be friends with him again.”

It was known that after your relationship with Tyson had become something more serious, moving in together and getting a cat, that you and Cale had drifted apart from one another. He was your closest friend, you would’ve even considered him your best friend, but Tyson wasn’t a fan of the two of you. He claimed that he didn’t trust Cale because he had ulterior motives and didn’t just want to be your friend. 

“You’re not dating? Oh I’m sorry Gabe mentioned that you and Cale had been going on dates, I just assumed.” Your eyes widened at not only the assumption, but also at the bedazzled jean jacket with Cale’s name and number on it that was brought for you. You just shook your head at Mel’s apologies and took the jacket from her. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next playoff game.” You told her with a fake smile on your face. Had you and Cale actually been going on dates without even realizing it? Did Cale think you were going on dates and you were the one in the dark about it?

***

You continued to attend all of the playoff games that took place in Denver and by the end of the first round it felt like you had never lost contact with everyone. They were kind enough to never mention Tyson in front of you, knowing it was still a hot topic and you appreciated that a lot more than they could ever know. You had to have Mel and Sydney stop you from texting Tyson, apologizing for the loss but also congratulating him on finishing the season with the Wild.

 With Cale being so busy you haven't been able to hang out with each other, but you’re still texting and calling whenever the both of you are available. Tonight was the first game of the second round and you were trying to figure out what to wear and that damn jean jacket was just staring at you from its spot in your closet.

 “It wouldn’t be horrible to wear it, I mean just because I’m wearing it doesn’t mean we’re together I’m just wearing a jacket, just like how I wear his jersey.” You spoke to yourself, an internal battle happening in your mind as you finally slipped the denim over your shoulders. 

“Do you still have my jean jacket?” A voice that was all too familiar to you spoke from the entryway of your room. Tyson. “You know you should probably stop keeping the front door unlocked, who knows what kind of weirdo could just walk in.”

You slowly turned around, tears welling in your eyes as you looked at the man who you had loved so much. His hair was grown out and he wasn’t clean shaven anymore, he looked different. 

“Tyson, what- um how- what are you doing here?” On any other occasion you would’ve been embarrassed by stumbling over your words but you were too shocked to care, the tears that had been settling in your eyes finally began falling as neither of you spoke, both keeping your eyes on each other scared that if you looked away that they would no longer be there.

His presence shouldn’t bother you this much, you shouldn’t allow him to bother you this much. 

“My season is over, I wanted to come down to support the team. They’re still my friends even if we aren’t on the same roster anymore.” He answered while walking towards you, him just being centimeters away from you by the end of his statement. 

“No, what are you doing here Tyson? Why are you in my apartment?” You ask softly, trying to hide yourself from him. You didn’t want Tyson to see you in such a vulnerable state. 

Tyson reaches up to gently grab your face, his thumbs wiping your tears away as he leans into your lips. As much as you wanted to fight him, and to not let him kiss you, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling into the kiss and wrapping my hands around him, managing to bring him closer to you. The kiss quickly deepens as you walk back towards your bed.

“I’ve missed you.” Tyson spoke in between kisses. His hands began roaming your body, but stopping as he touched the jewels that spelt out “MAKAR” on your back.

“I need you to take his name off of your back.” Tyson said, the jealousy was apparent in his voice.

Tyson knew that Cale always had a thing for you, he was horrible at hiding it. Tyson was never the biggest fan of you being friends with Cale, he didn’t trust the younger Canadian knowing that Cale had been in love with you since you met the both of them that night in May, Tyson had been too.

“Tyson, we need to stop this.” you said, pulling away from him. His lips chasing yours before letting out a sigh.

“Why? I am off of work all summer and so are you? Please can we just be together again? Be us again? I miss you so fucking much and I don’t know if I can keep doing this without you by my side. It was horrible after we broke up, I cannot function without you. Please Y/n, at least just consider going on a date with me? I’m in Denver for the next month and a half, I’m staying at a hotel.” Tyson rambled as you considered his words, you were doing horrible as well nothing Cale or any of your other friends could do or say was able to fully close up the hole in your heart that Tyson left you with.

“You can stay here, there is a guest room. No need for you to pay for a hotel room.” You whispered, shocking yourself with the offer. Him staying with you for almost two months would probably be one of the worst mistakes in your life, but you didn’t want him staying in a hotel, you knew how much he hated them.

“Y/n thank you, I hate-” Tyson started. “Staying in hotels. I know.” You finished.

“Can we skip the game please, go get some dinner and talk about everything. I think that is what we need, to just go over everything that happened and how we are feeling.” Tyson suggested to you, a little nervous that you would say no. 

Your heart spoke before your brain could, “Yea I think that would be what’s best for us moving forward.”

***

You quickly changed into a dress and some heels, Tyson changing into a dress shirt and slacks. He had made reservations for the two of you at your favorite Italian place before he had even got to your apartment because he knew you would say yes, you hated him for knowing you so well. You walked out after putting your favorite earrings on, the ones you haven’t worn since the last date you had gone on with Tyson.

“You’re wearing my earrings.” Tyson muttered so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. 

“They’re beautiful Tyson, of course I’m going to wear them. You also put a lot of thought into the gift, they mean a lot to me.” You were fully aware that Cale had gone out and bought your anniversary gift for Tyson because he had no idea what to get you, and Cale had seen you eyeing that pair of earrings every time you went window shopping with him, he even saw the tabs open on your computer once, one of them being the link to the online shop that sold those earrings. They were all you could’ve ever wanted as a gift, and Tyson didn’t even know that. 

“We should get going before we miss our reservations” He said standing up, ending the slight stare down the two of you were having, you wanted him to admit he didn’t get you those earrings but he never would. That was the biggest issue, your relationship was built on lies.

***

“Please be my girlfriend again” 

Tyson didn’t even wait for the hostess who showed you to your table to leave before speaking.

“Tyson–”

“Y/n I have been so miserable since you left me, I’m not eating, I’m not sleeping, my game has been complete shit. Without you I am nothing, I need you back. I fucked up, I know that, but please if you just give me a second chance I will be the loving boyfriend that you deserve. Please Y/n.” He pleaded, tears building up in his eyes. 

“Tyson, can we please just treat this like a normal date and discuss our future in private.” He nodded as you both quickly shoved your heads into the menu, even though you both knew what you would be getting already.

***

Dinner was filled with the two of you catching up, you telling him about the things you have been up to since he moved and him telling you about Minnesota and the team.

“Did you stay close with any of the players or their partners?” Tyson asked after your stories had stopped being shared. 

“No, the only one I talked to and saw on a regular basis was Cale. I kind of shut everyone out except for him after we broke up, but I’ve started to go to games again. Which reminds me I need to inform them that I’m alive and just missing the game tonight.” You said while pulling your phone out to see a few texts already.

From: Mel🏒❤️

Hey! Just wondering if you were dead or not lol.

From: Mel🏒❤️

I’m gonna assume you’re not coming tonight, hope everything is ok. Text me when you can.

From: Mel🏒❤️

Text Cale too. He is worried.

From: Makar🥰

Hey Y/n after the game tonight could you go down to the tunnels with Mel and Syd? I want to talk to you.

From: Makar🥰

Mel just told me you aren’t up in the box with them, are you gonna be late to the game?

From: Makar🥰

Is everything alright Y/n? It isn’t like you to ignore messages.

From: Makar🥰

Text me whenever you see this so I know you’re ok, I’m going out onto the ice now, I hope you’re watching from wherever you are.

You quickly typed a response to Mel’s texts.

To: Mel🏒❤️

Hey I’m alive. Tyson is in town, came by my apartment and now we’re at dinner discussing everything. Tell the girls I’m sorry I couldn’t make it and if Cale asks anything do not mention Tyson please, just tell him I’m sick and that I just needed rest.

From: Mel🏒❤️

Oh shit.

You chuckled lightly at the text before going into your conversation with Cale.

To: Makar🥰

I am so sorry Cale but I woke up super sick this morning and needed some rest, sorry I didn’t text earlier I’ve been sleeping all day. Good job on the game today! Cleo and I were rooting for you the whole time!❤️❤️

You sent the text congratulating him on the game even though it was only the 1st period, he probably wasn’t going to see it until after the game had ended.

“Everything ok?” Your head shot up, having forgotten about the real reason why you were not in attendance at the game the voice of your ex startled you.

“Yea I just had to text Mel quickly, what were we talking about?” You asked, placing your phone in your purse.

“How you just began attending Avalanche games recently.” He answered.

“Oh yea, I felt a bit awkward going after we broke up but Cale convinced me to go for the playoff games. The girls have been super nice about everything. I was scared they would hate me for having cut off our communication with them, but they said they understood why I did it.” You explained while playing with your food, a habit you displayed when you were nervous.

“So how is Cale?” Tyson's question shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did.

“Oh um he is great. He has had an amazing season, hasn’t he been texting you bragging about everything he has accomplished?”  You didn’t know if you should tell Tyson about how close the two of you had become in the two months he has been gone, afraid of his reaction. 

“Well he has blocked my number and all of my socials so the only updates I get on him are through the boys, but they usually just talk about the two of you when I ask about him. They say that the two of you have been going on dates and spend every night together, and that he asked for a playoff jacket to be made for you with his name and number on it. Is there something you’re not telling me Y/n?” 

With Tyson there is no trust, he gets extremely jealous and once he has the thought of you being with someone else he fixates on it and sees the guy as a threat. You would say his only threat is Cale. 

“Tyson, nothing is going on with me and Cale. We’re just friends, if you can’t trust me then why should I bother attempting to rekindle our relationship if you can’t trust me and my best friend.” You spoke, frustration clear in your tone. You could tell that you were making those around you uncomfortable so you proposed that the two of you pay the check and continue your conversation in a more private place, or just somewhere that wasn’t filled with happy couples.

***

“Are you sure nothing happened between you and Cale while I was gone.” Tyson asked for what felt like the 100th time, but it was probably just the third or fourth.

“Yes Tyson, for the last time nothing happened between us and nothing is happening between us right now. But if anything did happen you aren’t allowed to be upset, we are broken up. I can do and see whoever I want and so can you.” You basically yelled at the boy who sat on your couch.

“I don’t want to be with just anyone, I want to be with you Y/n. Am I not making that clear enough because I think I’ve said that plenty of times tonight.” Tyson yelled back. 

“Let's just calm down, I’m gonna go change, you can turn on the tv. Play the game or something.” You told him before turning to walk towards your bedroom. 

Once you’ve entered the room to search for a shirt to wear over your spandex, you saw one of Tyson’s Wild shirts sitting on top of your bed. One of your favorite habits of his, he always left a shirt out for you to change into after a night out. Contemplating whether or not you should put it on or just find another shirt to wear, you decide to just put on Tyson’s shirt thinking you’ve hurt his feelings enough for one night. 

Quickly putting some fuzzy socks on you walk out to the living room, freezing at the sight.

“I think she missed me.” Tyson was cuddled up with Cleo, she was wearing a jersey that had his number on it but the name said “DADDY” you were amazed at how he was able to get it on her as well as wondering where the hell he found a jersey that fits a cat.

“Please tell me you didn’t order a custom jersey for our cat.” You said trying to hide your laughter.

“I did, but don’t worry it's a jersey meant for a baby. I’m not that crazy to order a jersey made for a cat.” He responded, as Cleo went to lay on his chest.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” He gave you a fake glare before laughing and patting the spot next to him. “I can tell she misses you, I would find her cuddled up in your old dresser sometimes with some of the clothes you left here.” He smiled at that and situated himself and Cleo so that you could sit next to them. 

“The avalanche game ended, they won, now it’s just playing the highlights.” He whispered to you, your bodies so close that a volume louder would cause a headache. You nodded and focused on the tv, well tried to focus. You and Tyson had broken up 2 months ago, which meant it had been 2 months since you had sex, and god were you frustrated. Sure you had a vibrator, but nothing was gonna beat actual sex, especially sex with Tyson. Thinking about it made it worse, so you shifted on the couch uncomfortably, crossing your legs to try and relieve some of the tension in your body, before looking at the TV, which was showing a compilation of Cale’s three goals, he got a fucking hat trick and you weren’t there to see it. You quickly picked up your phone to send a text to him.

To: Makar🥰

Congratulations on your hat trick tonight!! I cannot believe I missed it, I am so sorry. I’ll be there for your next one though 😁❤️

“What does he want?” Tyson asked, annoyed while looking at the contact in your phone.

“I’m just congratulating him on his hat trick tonight, and apologizing for not being able to attend the game.” You answered with a sigh, leaning over the couch and setting your phone down on the table in front of you. Which gave Tyson a very nice view of your ass. Was it a horrible idea to sleep with your ex while he is trying to win you back, or just in general? Absolutely, but you don't care, you just need to have a release. You stayed bent over, deciding to text Mel just to try and get Tyson a little riled up. 

To: Mel🏒❤️

Girl I know this is a bad idea but I think I’m gonna sleep with Tyson😭 

To: Mel🏒❤️

I haven’t had an orgasm in two months, seriously if he doesn’t fuck me I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Wish me luck!! 

From: Mel🏒❤️

Get that dick babe!! 

From: Mel🏒❤️

But seriously the second he leaves Denver I’m setting you up with someone. This has to be a one time thing, you’re better off without him.

You smiled at the messages before turning your phone on do not disturb and setting it down, missing a message from Cale.

From: Makar🥰

Hey Y/n, I’m coming over to your place. Hope it’s ok because I’m almost there.

From: Makar🥰

I’m bringing soup and tea, I assume you’re asleep so I’ll just let myself  in.

Unaware that Cale was on his way you sat back down on the couch leaning your body onto Tyson’s. You hoped he would’ve picked up on your signals, but he just wrapped his arm around you and did nothing else.

“Tyson how many more signals  am I gonna have to give you until you fuck me.” You whispered in his ear, and that was it. 

His mouth instantly found yours, your tongues fighting for dominance as he grabs your hips to straddle his own. 

Soon the clothes were coming off, Tyson was in just his boxers as you were only in Tyson’s Wild shirt. The marks being left on your neck made the shape of a T, one of Tyson’s favorite things to do during sex, it claimed you as his. He began lifting your shirt up, not all the way, but just enough to be able to latch his mouth onto your nipple. So caught up in the moment, your moans and his grunts caused by your bare core grinding against his clothed one, you didn’t hear your front door unlock and the sound of footsteps entering your apartment. You did however hear the sound of soup hitting the floor, you felt it too. You yelped, catching Tyson’s attention whose first instinct was to protect you. He quickly pushed you onto the couch and moved up to cover you, he still didn’t know who had entered your apartment. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” Cale yelled towards your ex, your eyes widened as you tried to find your shorts, or anything to cover your exposed bottom half.

“I could ask you the same thing Makar.” Tyson asks, getting angrier by the moment. Cale having a key to your apartment, bringing you things thinking you were sick, and being protective over you did not sit well in Tyson’s stomach. You had spent the whole night trying to convince Tyson that nothing was going on between you and Cale and now all that work was out the window. 

“I knew it, I fucking knew there was something going on between you two. Y/n tried to tell me that nothing was happening but I’ve always known you loved her, you never got over her even after you lost her to me.” Tyson spoke venomously.

“Fuck you Tyson, and you Y/n–” Cale pointed at you. “I’m really disappointed in you. After all this time trying to get over him you just fell back into his trap. Was this your plan all along? To string me along and get my hopes up and then break my heart, because if so you accomplished it. Whore.” That's when Tyson swung and tears welled in your eyes. Cale regained his balance as a face of guilt washed over him, but he left before you could say anything to him or he could say anything to you. 

You quickly got up finding your spandex and put them on before running out the front door to chase after Cale. 

“Where are you going? Are you seriously chasing after him? He just called you a whore.” Tyson yelled as you made your way to the hallway.

“He’s my best friend.” you whispered back towards him, not even thinking he had heard it, but Tyson nodded at you as a way to tell you to go after him.

***

Luckily Cale lived in the same building as you so all you had to do was go up the stairwell to get his floor, but he had some leg and speed advantage on you, as well as a head start because you couldn’t get your damn shorts on, so Cale’s door was shut. 

“Cale open the door.” You said while knocking, more like pounding, on the door. “-Please.” You were met with silence as you continued to beg to be let in. Eventually your legs got tired and you began sliding your back down the door, the tears you had been holding back finally slipping free as you lost control of your breathing. 

“Cale, please.” Your voice was barely there, he wouldn’t be able to hear you unless he was at the other side of the door. “I’m so sorry.” Even if Cale was on the other side of the door your weeps were enough to make the words coming out of your mouth sound like a foreign language.

You continued to cry until you heard the door to the stairwell open.

“Come on Y/n, we have to go. You need to go to bed.” Tyson tried to coax you into coming back to your apartment but you weren’t having it.

“NO TYSON-” you shouted. “-I fucked up ok. I need to make it right, he is my best friend and I cannot leave or go to sleep until I have talked to him.” Your words grew quieter as a new wave of tears washed over you. 

“Baby…” he trailed off before walking over to you, “Let's go Y/n. He doesn’t wanna talk to you right now, you can try again tomorrow. Just give him some space. Come on love, I’ve got you.” Tyson picked you up bridal style, too tired to care you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest, almost immediately falling asleep. Neither you or Tyson heard Cale’s door open or the faint “Y/n.” that left his lips.

***

“Wait so Cale walked in on you and Tyson doing it and called you a whore? What a fucking dick, why does he think he has the right to just enter your apartment and get upset at what he sees.” Mel exclaimed.

You had asked her to meet you for coffee so you could debrief what had happened the night before.

“Mel, I don’t think you’re focusing on the thing I want you to.” you sighed “he told me that I strung him along and broke his heart, do you think he likes me?” 

“Sweetie, is the sky blue? Cale has liked you ever since the night he met you, that same night you met Tyson.” Mel said, laughing shortly after because of your reaction.

“I need to go, I need to talk to him.” You said rushing out the door.

“Good luck Y/n!” You sent a smile before sprinting to your apartment.

***

Luckily the coffee shop was less than a mile away from your complex so you got there quite quickly. Not wanting to deal with the shitty elevator you took the stairs, quickly regretting that decision by the time you got to the third floor, but nonetheless you still made it to his door in one piece, you just couldn’t breath. You quickly recollected yourself before knocking on Cale’s door. 

“Cale, please open up, I need to talk to you.” You said hoping he could hear the desperation in your voice. He did.

His front door opened and you were met with the sight of your best friend who looked just as horrible as you did, possibly even worse. His eyes were red, his nose crusted, and his face puffy and glistening from tears. You would have laughed if the circumstances were different, but right now his appearance crushed you. You had a staring contest, neither of you moving or speaking, your breathing was even rigged. You broke the silence, “Can I come in?” he nodded in response, fully opening his door for you to walk in.

“Look Cale, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have slept with him, well we actually didn’t have sex last night we were just- nevermind, but still that doesn’t give you the right to call me a whore. That hurt Cale.” You said trying your hardest to get the tears out of your eyes.

“I know I’m sorry, that was way out of line, but you have to look at it through my eyes” Cale paused trying to figure out his next words carefully. “-Y/n, I’m in love with you. I have been for awhile, and seeing you with Tyson was horrible, but seeing you broken because of him was even worse. I really thought you were making progress, you were hanging out with the guys and their partners more, you seemed like you were finally you again and to see you just throw all of that out the window because Tyson showed up on your doorstep unannounced hurts the most. What were you thinking Y/n?”

 “I wasn’t. Ok Cale, I wasn’t thinking. Tyson is back and he really wants to get back together with me and have me move out to Minnesota with him. He really wants me to be his again.”

“Do you want to be his again? Do you want to be anyone’s? Why can’t you just be your own person and not settle, not be ok with being claimed as an object by a guy who doesn’t even realize how good he has it with you? If you do move out there, what about your life in Denver? What about your friendships? What about your job? What about us? What about our relationship?”

“Cale you’ll always be my best friend, I’ll always lo–”

“NO DON’T SAY THAT! I don’t wanna be your best friend, I wanna be your boyfriend, your lover, the guy who is there for you no matter what, the guy who loves you no matter what. I want to be the one who lets you see how wonderful you are, to help you gain back that self confidence you lost to Tyson, I want you to see how much you deserve and I wanna give you that and more Y/n. I wanna marry you, I wanna give you your dream wedding, I know you’ve been planning it since you were young. I want to start a family with you, one boy and a girl. We'll name them those names you’ve had picked out since childhood, Dylan and Jane. I know you want Dylan to be older but you would be happy with twins as well. Y/n I want to give you the life you’ve always wanted, the one that you deserve, Y/n I–” 

Cale was cut off by your lips, you had never even thought of spending the rest of your life with Cale, until now, sure you had thought he was cute and over the past couple of months you had gotten much closer with him, but you never had considered that he could be the one for you, until now.

The kiss was desperate on both sides. Cale had wanted to kiss you since the moment he saw you, he wanted to know what you tasted like, if you chewed mint or fruity gum, it was fruity, he wanted to know how you felt wrapped in his arms, he loved it. Pulling away he chased your lips before sighing to himself and letting his head fall onto your shoulder. You welcomed his embrace by wrapping your arms around his torso, staying like that for a while before he felt wetness on his hair and heard your sniffling.

“Hey, hey are you ok? What’s wrong?” Cale asked gently, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him.

“It’s just, ugh it’s stupid-”

“If it is making you cry it isn’t stupid.” Cale told you affirmatively before motioning you to continue.

“Those things you said to me about my future, well our future, were you just saying that or did you mean it?” You whispered, ducking your head to try and hide from him, hoping that wasn’t all just for show.

“Every word of it.” 

You lifted your head to see Cale smiling softly at you, a blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Was it too much? I didn’t mean to overbear you or anything, you just needed to know how I feel.”

“It was a lot, I’m gonna be honest–” you both let out a chuckle, “but it was amazing. That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, ever.” The blush on both of your cheeks were deepening as you began leaning in, letting your lips mold together once again.

***

It was a few hours later that Cale had to leave to go to the rink, time in between you first showing up and him having to leave was spent kissing, talking, baking cookies, and some more kissing. 

“Will you be there tonight?” Cale asked while double checking he had everything in his bag.

“I don’t know, probably not. I’m telling Tyson that we’re officially over and that I’m not moving with him tonight and I already know that conversation isn’t going to go well.” You answered truthfully, not wanting him to get his hopes up too much.

“Ok.” Cale nodded, picking his bag up and heading out the door.

“I’m sorry. Good luck Makar, score a goal for me tonight.” He smiled as he walked out the door. You stayed on his couch a little while longer before heading out the door and walking up to your apartment. 

***

“Tyson?” You shouted as you walked into your front door, “Are you in here?” You were met with silence, so you walked up to the guest room where he was staying and knocked on the door.

“Tyson?” You asked again, this time in a softer voice. You heard the sound of sniffling coming from the room and decided to enter.

“Tyson are you ok? What is wrong?” You asked, finding him curled up into a ball on the bed, tissues surrounding him.

“I’m getting traded. Again.” He weakly stated. 

“Oh Tys…” You didn’t know what to say, what to do. He had just joined the Wild and they’re already having him pack his bags. “-where are they sending you now?” 

“I have no idea, no one has picked me up yet. Why do they want me gone? I just started with them, am I that horrible at hockey?” 

“No Tyson, don’t say that about yourself. This is what happens in sports, players get traded. You can’t let it affect your game, and your life as well, that’s what happened when you went to Minnesota.” You worried he would take your bluntness the wrong way.

“I know that, it just still hurts.” You hummed at his response, not knowing what else to say. 

“Have you spoken to Cale yet? Or is he still ignoring you?” You instantly froze, how were you supposed to tell him that not only were you not moving back with Tyson, thus telling him you will not be getting back together with him, but also tell him that not only had you made up with Cale, you also made out with Cale.

“Yea, I actually just got back from his apartment. This is probably not the best timing but–”

“You’re not getting back together with me?”

“Tyson. I love you, I always will, but our relationship is not healthy. I need to put myself first, and I get how that might be selfish but I cannot put myself in a relationship that has made me feel unworthy of so much. I’m so sorry.” Now it was your turn to tear up.

“Y/n, I understand. I never thought you would actually come back to me. I’m sorry too, that our relationship made you feel like that, that I made you feel like that.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“You belong with Cale, I hope you know that. Obviously I wish that we could be together, but if it's not me it should be Cale. Last night I saw how much it affected you, him being upset with you, and seeing you sitting out there for so long made me realize that not once in our relationship did you fight that hard to make things right with me, I didn’t either. It hurts, but I understand that he means more to you than me, but I love you so much that I wanna see you happy, even if it’s not with me.``

You smiled at him, sitting up and wiping the last of your tears away.

“-but if things don’t end up going well with Cale I’ll always be here.” Tyson added in a jokingly flirting tone causing you to laugh. 

You got up and instantly started getting ready, you were going to the game tonight and you were gonna wear your Makar jacket. 

***

“Oh Y/n you made it!” Mel said enthusiastically when you entered the friends and family box. “How did it go this morning?” She added needing to know all the details.

“Really well…” You trailed off trying to quiet your voice down so those around don’t hear all of your business. “-we actually kissed, like a lot.” 

“YOU GUYS KISSED?” Mel yelled, the opposite of the reaction you were hoping for.

“Shhh Mel come on dude.” You said moving your hands around trying to get her to understand how badly she needed to shut up. “Anyways, we kissed, and he confessed to me and told me all these sweet things like really sweet things that made me cry.” You told her, smiling at the memory of it.

“What kind of sweet things?” Mel asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nothing like that you perv, but maybe I’ll tell you in the future.” You smiled towards your friend before you began paying attention to the game in front of you.

***

The Avalanche ended up winning their game in a shutout, 7-0 and letting them advance into the finals of the Stanley Cup, Cale also got a hat trick tonight. You followed Mel and the other family members towards the dressing rooms to meet up with the players.

You stood there leaned against the wall, nervously playing with your necklace. Gabe had exited the locker room a few minutes earlier and quickly took the attention of Mel, leaving you to your own devices while you wait for Cale, he still didn’t know you were here so you didn’t know how long it would take for him to exit the locker room. 

From: Makar🥰

Hey! Game is over and I just finished up, about to head back to my place. I hope your conversation with Tyson went ok, and I hope I can see you again tonight. Maybe you can go up to my apartment and I’ll meet you there? I’ll pick up some food.

To: Makar🥰

Look up dummy.

Confused, Cale looked up from his phone and met your eyes. His face instantly turned into a smile before he quickly walked over to you and dropped his bags.

“Hey you-” but Cale didn’t let you finish your thought, he grabbed your face and brought his lips down to yours, ignoring the hollering and whistling from the players around him. It wasn’t until Gabe shouted out a “Get a room you two!” Did you guys part from each other.

“You made it. Did you see my goals.” He whispered, a blush coating his cheeks.

“I did, all three of them. Congrats honey.” You whispered back.

“Ugh you’re gonna drive me crazy with that name.” He groaned, his head leaning back.

“Well I don’t have to call you it then, I can just continue to call you Cale.” You teased.

“No no no, please continue to call me that. You’ll get a nickname of your own soon, I just have to find the perfect one. Babe? No, that doesn’t sound natural. Love?”

“Oh I like that one.” You giggled a blush reaching your face.

“Alright love, let's go, I am starving.” Cale said, picking his bags back up off the ground.

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge me wearing your playoff jacket? I’m offended Makar.” You quipped, purposefully walking in front of him so he could see his name and number branded on your back. 

“Oh shit.” He said lowly, obviously flustered at the sight. “You look amazing, like really amazing. My last name looks pretty good on you, wanna take it forever?” He winked as you turned round to face him.

“One thing at a time Makar we aren’t even dating yet.” You said while walking up to his car.

“Well then will you be my girlfriend Y/n?” 

“Of course.”

“Great, now will you marry me?”

“Shut up and drive before I walk home.”

*A/N y’all this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao. i hope y’all enjoyed it, i kinda just write things and hope they make sense because planning and proofreading a story is for suckers. but if anything doesn’t actually line up to what happened in real life then oh well it’s a work of fiction. HOPE Y’ALL HAVE A GREAT DAY*

#ahonice #cale makar #tyson jost #nhl imagine #cale makar imagine #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #ahonice writes #fluff #angst

[buttercupjosh]

Unexpected Love (the 4 times Cale surprised you + the 1 time you surprise him)

(Gif credit by @9116)

word count: 3,240

warnings: none

Genres: Strangers to lovers, fluff, self insert

A/N: I decided to step a bit out of my comfort zone a lot for this story. I participated in @antoineroussel’s Winter Fic Exchange and this is my story for @wildrangers, written with the extremely talented Cale Makar. I hope that you like it. I’m sorry in advance that it kinda speed runs a bit but I just wanted to try something different. I also decided to challenge myself by writing some dialogue for the first time in years so please bear with me if the conversations aren’t that great. Title doesn’t come from a specific song/place. There’s a reference to Glittery by Kacey Musgraves feat. Troye Sivan buried in the story. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

Recommended/optional listening: Glittery by Kacey Musgraves feat. Troye Sivan

“What if I told you none of it was accidental? And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me. I laid the groundwork, and then, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line. What if I told you I'm a mastermind? And now you're mine, it was all by dеsign.” -Mastermind by Taylor Swift

Although it was snowing outside, you were melting down inside of your apartment. You lost your wallet and the last place you were before coming home was the Target parking lot. You called the store to see if someone had turned it in and were getting ready to go back to the store to check when your doorbell rang. A tall blonde boy wearing a black puffer and a maroon Colorado Avalanche hoodie stood in your doorway, holding your wallet. He introduced himself to you as Cale and you thanked him for bringing it back to you. Before Cale left, you asked him why he brought your wallet to your apartment instead of mailing it back to you or returning it to the store. He explained that your apartment was on the way to his so he stopped by to give it to you. You were taken aback by Cale’s kind gesture. He had no idea who you were and yet he drove out of his way to bring back your wallet, with everything in it. You offered Cale gas money (which he refused) and pleaded with him to let you repay him somehow for what he did.

“Well, you can pay me back by going with me to watch the Nutcracker. I really want to go check it out but none of my teammates want to go with me”, Cale responded.

“Actually, that’s something that I’ve been wanting to do as well and I would love to go with you. Are you free next Saturday?”, you asked.

“I have a game next Saturday but maybe we can go next Sunday’s 6 pm showing?", Cale replied.

“That works for me.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“I would hope so since you already know where I live.”

Cale chuckled at your words and you exchanged numbers before he left. It really wasn’t an issue for Cale to bring you back your wallet. Sure, like you had mentioned, it would have been easier to return it to the store or mail it back to you (which is what he would have done if you weren’t home). Cale was glad that you were there and that you agreed to go with him to see the Nutcracker. It was something that he had really wanted to check out for a while but the guys on the team weren’t into it and Cale didn’t want to be set up again by the WAGs; he had even considered going to watch it alone. Thankfully, he met someone new and Cale was looking forward to seeing you again.

————————————————————

Just as you had agreed to, Cale picked you up right on time for your outing together. You and Cale didn’t really know each other well enough to call it a date but by the end of the evening, you both knew it was one. Before going to the venue, you both agreed to go to dinner first. Over the meal, you both learned about each other and shared stories about your lives. You thought it was fascinating to hear about life in Canada, a place you’ve never been to, from someone who was born and raised there. Cale felt the same way about you, hearing you talk about your life and your career as a social worker. He admired that you enjoyed helping others. You and Cale also shared a mutual experience of attending college and you both shared stories from that chapter in your lives. Cale even felt comfortable talking to you about some of the things he studied in his psychology courses since you studied social work.

After dinner, you and Cale headed over to the Denver Center for Performing Arts. The Nutcracker was amazing and spectacular; it exceeded both of your expectations. The center was close to the public ice rink, so after the event ended, Cale noticed that your eyes lit up when you saw everyone skating. He asked you if you wanted to go ice skating. You hesitated to go because you don’t know how to ice skate and you can barely even roller skate. You did not want to embarrass yourself skating in front of someone who won the Stanley Cup. Despite these feelings, Cale offered to teach you how to skate if you wanted to try. It was not everyday that a professional hockey player offered to teach someone how to ice skate so you agreed to it. You paid for the skate rental since Cale paid for the tickets to the Nutcracker and you split the bill for dinner. Cale was nice enough to tie your skates for you. You were so nervous to step out of the ice but a newly familiar voice reassured you.

“Just hold onto me, I got you. If you fall, I’m right here to pick you up. I promise you that you’ll be okay. If you don’t like it at any point, we could leave.”

You took Cale’s words to heart and following his instructions, you reached out to him and shakily touched the ice. Cale turned around to face you and he gently guided you through the basics of skating. It took some time for you to get it right and there were plenty of moments when you had trouble maintaining your balance but you were relieved that Cale was so patient with you. As time passed, you started to become more comfortable on ice skates and eventually let go of him, but remained close by in case anything happened. However, Cale didn’t want you to let him go because he liked being physically close to you. At one point, you felt confident enough in your skating ability that you challenged Cale to a race around the rink. You decided that the winner would choose the next outing you did together and the loser would pay for the hot chocolate when you were done skating.

You were a bit bold in what the winner won, even though you weren’t fully sure if Cale had wanted to hang out with you again. You both agreed to the conditions and you were relieved that Cale didn’t offer a different option for the winner. You and Cale began to race from one end of the rink to another. Due to the fact that this ice rink has tons of skaters and wasn’t as well maintained like the one at Ball Arena, Cale accidentally fell on the ice. With your assistance, Cale got back up. You both agreed to leave and went to a cafe nearby for some hot chocolate.

“Are you sure you’re a Stanley Cup champion if you fell down like that?”, you joked. Again, you made Cale laugh. He liked that about you, how witty and funny you were.

Despite him falling, you technically won the race and decided that your next outing with Cale would be going to look at the Christmas lights at the Denver Botanical Gardens that upcoming Friday evening. The outing at the Botanical Gardens was beautiful and you and Cale took plenty of photos to keep as memories. Cale really enjoyed spending time with you, even if you didn’t get to see each other as often, due to his busy schedule. Even though he was primarily occupied with hockey, Cale still kept in contact with you more frequently, getting to learn more about his newfound friend.

Christmas was fast approaching but you were unable to see each other before the holiday. You and Cale had made plans to see each other once he got back from Calgary over the short holiday break. You weren’t sure what to get him since Cale never really mentioned anything that he had needed or wanted and you had only known each other for a short time so you settled on giving him a Christmas card with a Starbucks gift card inside. However, close to Christmas, you got a gift in the mail from Cale.

Hope I got the right color. Happy Holidays, y/n

-Cale

You were shocked when you opened the package. Cale had somehow found the rare In The Weeds vinyl variant of Folklore by Taylor Swift. You had mentioned to Cale once that you were looking for a Folklore vinyl to complete your record collection but you didn’t think he would go as far as getting it for you. You were so thankful for Cale; you hadn’t known each other long but you knew that you really had a good guy on your hands.

————————————————————

You met up with Cale for lunch after he returned to Denver from Calgary so that you could give him his Christmas card. Although you felt inferior by giving him something so simple, Cale was very appreciative for the gift because it was thoughtful and came from you. As the time inched closer towards the new year, Cale invited you to the Avs’ New Years Eve game and party; you thought it was nice for him to include you in a team event. You were just Cale’s friend so you didn’t feel comfortable sitting with the WAGs at the game. You brought along one of your friends, who would spend the rest of the holiday with her boyfriend, to keep you company. You had watched hockey casually before but this was your first time attending an actual game. You had a good time; they didn’t win but it was okay.

After the game ended, Cale and the rest of the team migrated towards the New Year’s party at JT and Sydney’s place. Due to the fact that it was a holiday and he knew that he could work it off later, Cale decided to drink a little bit to ring in the New Year. By the time the clock started to wind down in the final minutes, he was already giggly and tipsy.

“Hey, y/n, I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss before. Would you like to be mine?”, Cale asked you.

You weren’t sure if he was asking you to kiss him because he was under the influence or if he was showing his true feelings. You had gone out together more than once but neither of you expressed those hangouts to be dates (even though they lowkey were). You and Cale considered each other friends but you did have a little crush on him. You didn’t want to hurt Cale’s feelings either (even if he wasn’t sober) so you agreed to kiss him. You chanted the countdown with everyone. When everyone yelled “Happy New Year”, Cale leaned in to kiss you on your cheek. Yep, even though he wasn’t fully sober, he was still being respectful. You laughed after he pulled away. Cale enjoyed the sound of hearing you laugh. You had wanted to kiss him back on his cheek but you decided against it. You weren’t sure how Cale truly felt about you sober and you didn’t want to muddy the waters of what you had by doing such a thing.

The following morning, you got a phone call from a certain rosy cheeked cutie, asking you to be his romantic partner. That one phone call changed everything for the better between you and Cale. You were so relieved to hear that he liked you back and his drunk actions did convert to sober thoughts.

————————————————————

Spending time with Cale felt like the world had stopped, time didn’t seem to pass and that time together turned from months to years. Your relationship felt like something out of a love song. Of course, there were expected highs and lows, losses and gains, disagreements and mutual understandings, tears shed and kisses shared all in between. Cale was right there by your side through it all. Things just fell into place for you both and it was almost like you were meant to be together, like it was part of some plan schemed by a mastermind. You didn’t have any evidence but it was like Cale had designed different ways for you to keep falling for him and you would continue to fall deeper and deeper into him and his love.

After being together for some time, you and Cale had decided to make the huge step of purchasing a house. You had found the perfect new build in Cherry Creek and were excited to spend your future together in this home. One weekday evening after Thanksgiving, you and Cale decorated the Christmas tree. You were both busy with work so you couldn’t push it off until the weekend. It was nice to have this time together, even if it wasn’t much. You had shared with Cale a fun family tradition; as you hung up an ornament on the tree, you had to say one thing that you loved about the other person. You knew deep down that Cale loved you but it was nice to hear him say the things that he loved about you; his presence in your life lit you up inside like a glittery Christmas tree. It meant a lot to Cale to hear from you specifically the things that you loved about him; he loved the way you decorated his heart with your kindness, selflessness and compassion. As you continued to hang up ornaments and string garland around the tree, you had quietly started to wonder about when Cale would propose. You had been together for over a year and you were already in the process of getting a home together. To you, Cale was the man of your dreams and he was worth the wait. To Cale, you were the one he wanted to marry and he was so grateful to have you as part of his life. He was glad that you had adjusted well to his lifestyle as a hockey player and being thrust into the spotlight by being romantically involved with him. Cale knew that the love you had shared together could not be replicated with anyone else. You both had this strange, unexplainable effect on each other.

Realistically, you had thought Cale would probably propose to you on Christmas when both of your families were in town. There was no guarantee that you would close on the new house and be moved in by then so Christmas was going to be hosted at the apartment. Cale knew when it was the right time to propose and it wasn’t when you had expected.

Right before Christmas, Cale had gotten a call from the real estate agent for you to meet at your new home to officially close on the property. You both had gotten dressed in your nicest sweaters since there would be a photographer there to take photos of the realtor’s clients with their new homes and you drove together to the location of your new address. You had arrived and noticed that the realtor wasn’t around with the keys to the house. However, the photographer was there. Cale got a text from the realtor who said that he was running late. The photographer suggested you take photos while you waited. You and Cale had professional photos done together before so it didn’t hurt to add more to your collection. During the impromptu photoshoot, Cale got down on one knee, holding your dream ring in a box.

“Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special. I couldn’t have planned the way that we met but after I left your apartment that day, something in my heart spoke to me and I started making plans to pursue you and your heart. I’m so glad that those plans worked out. You are such a light in my life, I love that you’re so kind and you’re one of the most hard-working people I’ve ever met, you’re so beautiful, inside and out. You are my best friend and the love of my life. I love you so much. Now that I have you in my life, it’s hard for me to imagine it without you. There’s no one else in this world that I would want to wake up next to, fall asleep with and spend the rest of my life with. Y/n, will you marry me?”, Cale asked. Your suspicions about him were right after all. Overwhelmed with joy and with tears in your eyes, you accepted Cale’s proposal and were met with one of your favorite gifts: a kiss from your lover.

Unknown to you, Cale already had a copy of the key to your new house. As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted with cheers and hugs from both of your friends and family. Some of the guys from the team and their partners were there as well to celebrate this special moment for you and Cale. You also saw that there was food and some decorations for your engagement party. The realtor was also there inside, with the paperwork so that you could legally sign off as a homeowner. Putting pen to paper, it was officially done. You couldn’t quite believe it; you had started the day off as Cale’s romantic partner and you ended it by becoming new homeowners and Cale’s fiance.

————————————————————

It was Cale’s first birthday as your husband. He came in late last night after an East Coast road trip and slept in late since the Avs had a few days off in between games. Cale looked so peaceful, deep into sleeping and snuggled up with your dog, Benny. You quietly slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen. You tried your best to not disturb your sleeping husband while you made pancakes for him. You knew that Cale always had some sort of surprise for you because he enjoyed seeing the joy that creeped across your face when he surprised you and this time, it was your turn to surprise him.

Cale knew that you weren’t an early bird at all and without an alarm, you could sleep through anything (including the apocalypse); you also tended to sleep in on most weekend off days. He was genuinely surprised to see you up before him. Cale was even more surprised to see that you decorated your shared home with balloons, streamers and a Happy Birthday banner for him. Sure, he had been surprised on his birthday before but it meant even more to him that you did this for him. You sacrificed your sleep to cook for him and to put things up instead of offering to go out to eat or hiring someone else to do everything. He didn’t care if you had got him a super expensive, special birthday gift or had even more surprises up your sleeve. Cale had all that he wanted for his birthday, right here, just feet away, dancing in the kitchen.

The one thing that wasn’t planned at all for Cale’s birthday was the snowfall. According to the weather forecast, there was a 40% chance of snow for October 30th and it was only in the upper elevations near the mountains. That 40% chance of snow turned 100% overnight and now all of Denver was blanketed in white. The unexpected snow on the ground meant that winter came a bit sooner than expected; it also meant that the days were going to get grayer and colder. Although the snow was here to stay, all it took for Cale was one look at you, his heart would get warm and it would all melt away.

#cale makar #colorado avalanche #cale makar x reader #cale makar imagine #cale makar fic #the winter fic exchange 2k23 #my writing #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #please read my story

[eightmakar]

coming home | j.t.c. | 18+

Pairing: J.T. Compher x Original Character

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: cursing, drinking, smut (dry humping, dirty talk, making out) MINORS DNI

A/N: idk where this came from but enjoy the yearning i tried

tagging: @taking-shots @harlowhockeystick  @flashyfucker  @fallinallincurls  @jostystyles  @jostyriggslover96 @burkymakar @cuttergauth @matbaerzal @hockeylvr59  @hockstuff @tkachukslut  @mikkorantanev  @gabelandeskog @cale8makar @xsyntheticsensation

Connor Maddox’s grandfather always used to tell her, “Whenever Joseph Compher wants to practice on our ice, you let him. That kid is going to bring home the Cup one day.” She idolized her grandfather, respected every word he ever spoke, and so she spent her adolescence opening the rink for the soft-spoken yet snarky older boy with the big, brown eyes who always brought her a hot chocolate with Irish Cream, no matter what time of day it was. 

And there he was on her television screen, hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head. Her grandfather would be proud. 

“Hey Connor?” her employee, Robin, asked. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Connor looked up at her from her desk. 

“There’s, um, there’s someone on the phone who wants to talk to the manager. He wants to have an event here or something.”

“Okay, thanks!” Connor picked up the phone as Robin left her office. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this the manager?”

Connor’s stomach dropped. She would recognize Joseph Compher’s voice anywhere. 

J.T., Connor reminded herself. He goes by J.T..

“Yes, this is Connor, how can I help you?”

“Hey Connor, my name is J.T. Compher and I play for the Colorado Avalanche. I, uh, I grew up in Northbrook and basically learned everything I know at your rink, so I’d like to bring the Stanley Cup over and have a big celebration on my cup day,” J.T. explained. 

“Yeah, we can do that for you, J.T.,” Connor said, smiling but wondering if he recognized her voice. He might recognize her last name, and he’d definitely remember her if she reminded him what her nickname was when they played hockey together.

“Thank you so much!” J.T. sighed. “We want to do a fundraiser as well, raise some money for the community, you know, give back a little.”

“We’d appreciate that a lot, truly. Let me give you my cell number and we can work this out together, sound good?” Connor suggested. 

“That’s perfect, Connor, thank you.”

Connor gave him her number, wondering if he still had it in his phone from all those times he’d call her late at night or early in the morning, begging her to open the rink so he could skate. She bid him goodbye, then immediately called her dad.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” Connor’s dad, Tom, answered. 

“Remember Joseph Compher?” Connor questioned. 

“You mean Stanley Cup Champion Joseph Compher? Yeah, of course.”

“He wants to have part of his Cup day celebrations at the rink.”

Tom gasped, incredulous. “He wants to bring the Stanley Cup to our rink? Did you tell him yes?”

“Of course I did. Pops would’ve rolled over in his grave if I didn’t. He wants to do a fundraiser and I think I could get him to make a donation to the rink, too.”

“Did he remember you?”

Connor gnawed on her lip, and muttered, “I don’t think so, but I didn’t tell him my last name. I wanna see how long it takes him to realize it’s me.”

“Ah, a test to see if he’s still worthy after all these years?” Tom chuckled. 

Connor laughed back, “I hate you!”

“He’s still a good-looking guy, Con,” her dad insisted. “With a hell of a salary.”

“Goodbye, Father.” Connor rolled her eyes and hung up on her dad to get back to work. She checked her cell phone to see a text from J.T.. She realized he hadn’t changed his number, and she hadn’t changed his contact number since high school. 

July 1st

Joseph The Idiot (12:43 PM)

Hey Connor, this is J.T. Compher. Wanted to say thanks again for helping us set this up. Your rink means the world to me and it’s going to be so special to share the Cup with Northbrook!

Connor (12:45 PM)

No problem! Excited to work this out!

July 2nd

Joseph The Idiot (11:21 AM)

I’ve confirmed my cup day is the 15th, is that okay?

Connor (11:24 AM)

Yes, that’s perfect! What are you wanting to do at the rink specifically?

Joseph The Idiot (11:30 AM)

I would love to be able to talk a bit to the people that come to the event

Also a photo op of some sort, definitely

I’m working with the Bluehawks too, cause I played for them, and there will be a lot of kids there.

Connor (11:35 AM)

Okay, so we could put carpet down on the ice? And chairs and such for the kids, for any of your family members, other important people?

If you wanted, too, we could have the photo op on the ice

Joseph The Idiot (11:37 AM)

That would be amazing!

I think we’d probably be there about a couple hours or so based on the tentative schedule.

Late morning to early afternoon, probably 11:30 to 1:30 or something like that

Does that work?

Connor (11:40 AM)

Yeah, we can make that work. We have a couple parties that night, but that should be fine.

Joseph The Idiot (11:41 AM)

We’ll help you guys clean up and get ready for those parties.

Connor (11:42 AM)

You don’t have to!

But we would appreciate it anyway :)

Joseph The Idiot (11:43 AM)

It’s the least we can do!

I’ll also be making a donation. I know you guys have some repairs you want to make, and I would love to contribute to that

Plus the youth hockey programs

Connor (11:47 AM)

We’d appreciate both of those donations!

I’m one of the youth hockey coaches

Joseph The Idiot (11:49 AM)

Really? That’s incredible! What team?

Connor (11:50 AM)

The U12 and U19 girls teams! I help out with the U14s and the U16s too.

Joseph The Idiot (11:51 AM)

My sisters both used to play for the girls’ teams. I’m so glad to hear they’re still going strong!

Connor (11:52 AM)

I’m glad to report it :)

July 4th

Joseph The Idiot (2:28 PM)

Happy Fourth!

Connor (2:38 PM)

Happy Fourth back atcha!

Joseph The Idiot (3:00 PM)

Think we could get some epic fireworks for the 15th?

Connor (3:07 PM)

Ha, in the middle of the day?

Joseph The Idiot (3:09 PM)

Damn, you’ve got me there

July 6th

Joseph The Idiot (6:58 PM)

How’s the planning going? Anything you need from me?

Connor (7:00 PM)

Nope, not as far as I know! We’re just making sure we have the staff to be able to host.

Joseph The Idiot (7:03 PM)

Great! Let me know how I can help!

Connor (7:04 PM)

Will do! :)

July 8th

Connor (4:43 PM)

Do you have decorations you want put up?

Joseph The Idiot (4:44 PM)

Oh shit, yes

I’m in Colorado right now, but can I have one of my family members bring them over?

Connor (4:46 PM)

Sure! Have them drop it at the front desk

Joseph The Idiot (4:47 PM)

God, you’re a lifesaver!

July 11th

Joseph The Idiot (5:41 PM)

Everything still good?

Connor (5:43 PM)

Yep, all good! 

July 14th

Joseph The Idiot (9:07 PM)

See you tomorrow!

Connor (9:08 PM)

See you tomorrow! The rink is all ready to go!

July 15th

Joseph The Idiot (8:11 AM)

[image]

Pancakes taste even better from the Stanley Cup.

Connor (8:12 AM)

I bet they do, save some for me?

Joseph The Idiot (8:13 AM)

One to go box, got it.

[image]

I’m pretty sure this violates the “don’t take a date to bed on the first date” rule, but when else could I take Lord Stanley to my childhood bedroom?

Connor  (8:15 AM)

At least you took him to breakfast beforehand. 

“Does this shirt look okay?” Connor smoothed down her burgundy blouse nervously. She’d picked it out specifically for today, because it was one of the Avalanche’s colors.

“Why? Nervous to see your boyfriend?” Connor’s younger sister, Corissa, teased. 

Connor stuck her tongue out at Corissa. “I’m ninety percent sure he has a girlfriend. Plus, he doesn’t remember me, so that would be awkward.”

“So? What if he shows up today and confesses his love for you?”

“I—,” Connor blushed at the thought. High school memories of him flashed through her head; watching him zip by her on the ice, scoring his games, looking up to see him watching her games she played with his sisters, Jesse and Morgan. She remembered how much she wanted to kiss him when his face was flushed and sweaty after a game. 

“I’m just saying, if you suddenly have to sneak away to your office with him, I’ll cover for you guys,” Corissa said seriously.

“Jesus Christ, Cori,” Connor laughed. “I’m not going to fuck him at the rink!”

Corissa wiggled her eyebrows. “But maybe after?”

Connor shoved her sister and cackled, “Fuck off! I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you over there?”

“Yes ma’am,” Corissa saluted. “See you at the rink.”

Connor left her and her sister’s house and made the short drive to the Northbrook Sports Center. Her hands shook as she drove, pulling into her designated space and barely staying between the lines. She saw a gaggle of people in front of the building, several of them with the telltale Compher-red hair, and unmistakable number thirty-seven white Avalanche jersey. 

Oh fuck, Connor thought. She wasn’t ready to see him yet, hadn’t mentally prepared to see J.T. after so many years, but there he was, standing at the front door of the rink like he was fifteen and waiting for her bike over to let him in. He looked good, much taller and much broader than she remembered him being. 

Connor took a deep breath and clambered out of her car. She nearly tripped, cursing the heels she’d chosen to wear. She popped her trunk, grabbed her backpack, and walked over to meet the Compher family. 

“Hey guys,” Connor greeted them as she came to a stop in front of the family she was once so familiar with. “I’m Connor.”

“Holy fuck,” J.T. breathed, sounding shocked. Connor saw Jesse elbow Morgan behind their brother, but her focus remained on J.T. as he said, “Duck?”

Connor pressed her lips together, but couldn’t hold her smile back. “I didn’t know if you’d remember,” she said quietly. “Hey, Seph. It’s good to see you.”

“Holy shit!” J.T. opened his arms and pulled Connor into a strong hug, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist. God, he’d gotten so ripped. “I thought you were the Connor I was talking to, but I didn’t know your family still owned the rink after your grandpa.” He let her go but they stayed close together. 

“Yeah, he, uh, he wanted to make sure we kept it, so he left us a lot of money to keep it going,” Connor explained. “I didn’t know if you’d remember me, either, and I didn’t want it to seem like suddenly you came back with the Cup and now we’re friends again.”

“I’d never think that,” J.T. said, barely audible, but was interrupted by Jesse loudly clearing her throat. 

“Quit flirting and let us all say hi, J,” she said, pushing past him to hug Connor. 

“There’s the Jesse I remember,” Connor laughed. “It’s even better to see you than it is to see Joseph. And Morgan, of course!” Connor released Jesse to hug Morgan, then Valerie and Bob.

“Um,” J.T. said, reaching for a plastic bag behind him with a coffee cup next to it. Connor’s heart pounded as he handed them both to her sheepishly. “I said I’d bring you some of Mom’s pancakes, so here. And just in case it was you,” he glanced over at Jesse, who smirked, “I got a hot chocolate with Irish Cream.”

Connor was stunned. He really remembered. Holy shit. 

“Who had to remind you?” Connor teased, taking the cup and bag. “Jesse or Morgan?”

J.T. chuckled. “I remembered myself, thank you very much.”

“Wow, I’m impressed you had the brain cells to remember after all the partying you’ve done since you won the Cup!” Connor grinned and unlocked the door. She yanked it open and J.T. caught it for her. 

“You know what,” he said, “you’ve got me there. For a while there my blood was just straight alcohol.”

 Connor laughed as she walked into the rink, her second home. She flicked on the lights, then went around unlocking everything as the Comphers looked around nostalgically. They had their heads together, speaking softly, when she returned to them. 

“So all your decorations are up,” Connor said. “And there’s a bunch of chairs on the ice, plus the backdrop for photos and a table for the cup and everything.”

“This is perfect, honestly,” J.T. told her. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, of course! My grandpa always said that you’d bring a Cup home,” said Connor sadly. 

“I was really sorry to hear that he’d passed. He was a great person.”

Connor noticed that the rest of the Comphers had suspiciously left them alone, but she didn’t mind. She always loved the time they spent alone at the rink, and standing next to J.T. reminded her how much she’d enjoyed it. 

“It sucked, I’m not gonna lie,” Connor agreed sadly and took a drink of her hot chocolate.

“What, uh, what happened, if you don’t mind?”

“Cancer.”

“Fuck, Connor, I’m so sorry.”

Connor shrugged, “We knew it was coming. He’d been struggling for a while, and we were just glad he wasn’t in pain.”

J.T. shifted nervously on his feet, looking like he wanted to do something to comfort her, but ultimately opting not to. Instead, he said, “I’m glad he’s not suffering anymore.”

“Me too. He left Dad the rink, plus some money to keep it going, and then when I graduated from college, I took over running it. Dad is technically the owner still, but I keep everything going since Dad has his own job.” Connor gnawed on her lip, wondering if she was telling him too much too quickly, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Where did you end up going?” J.T. questioned. 

“Northwestern,” Connor said with a sly grin.

J.T. grinned back at her. “You always wanted to go to Northwestern.”

“And I did it. My degree is in my office,” Connor laughed, “also known as my most expensive piece of paper.”

“You’re doing better than I did,” J.T. laughed, too. “I don’t even have a degree.”

“Okay Mr. Three Million Dollar Contract.”

“Actually,” J.T. corrected, “Three and a half million. For four years.”

Connor shoved her old friend, laughing, “Show off.”

“You could’ve played pro, too, Duck.”

“What?” Connor looked incredulously at him.

“Yeah, you could’ve easily gone to play in the PHF. Jesse’s playing at Wisconsin in the fall, and I’m pretty sure she’s going pro after. I bet you could still keep up with her.”

“Seph,” Connor said quietly. “I can’t. I have to keep the rink going.”

“I mean, you could,” he insisted. 

“Con,” Jesse interrupted loudly as she, Morgan, and their parents rejoined them, “thanks for setting this all up. Everything looks great!”

“Thanks, Jess,” Connor said with a smile. “We have a place for your medal, too, if you want.”

“I won’t leave it out, but I brought it if you want to see it,” Jesse said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a sock, reached into it, and removed her shining Olympic silver medal. Jesse offered it to a gaping Connor. 

“Jesus, you trust me to hold it?” Connor laughed. 

“It’s Jesse, not Jesus, and yes.” Jesse nearly shoved her medal into Connor’s hands as Connor laughed at her joke. 

“Oh my god, it’s heavy!” Connor yelped, admiring the medal. “But look at her.”

“Wait til you see the Cup,” J.T. added. 

“Damn, you really saw your sister win a silver medal in the Olympics, said ‘Hold my beer,’ and won the fucking Stanley Cup. You couldn’t let her outshine you, huh, Seph?” Connor chirped with a grin.

J.T. shrugged. “Nope, couldn’t let her have all the attention.”

Valerie walked over and joined them to say, “I think the Cup just got here, J.”

J.T., his family, and Connor all went outside to get the Cup. J.T. grinned when he pulled it out of its case, and Connor was struck by how shiny it was. 

“Wow,” she breathed.

“You wanna hold it?” J.T. offered.

“I’m allowed to?”

“Absolutely.”

J.T. handed her the Stanley Cup and she gasped a little at how heavy it was. She’d always had the arm strength of a Tyrannosaurus rex, so J.T. helped her hold it over her head while Morgan took their picture. J.T. stood so close to Connor, she could feel his heart pounding. Why was he nervous?

“I think folks are gonna start showing up soon,” Connor said. “So I should get inside. Let me know if you need anything, any of you, okay?” Connor looked at J.T.’s whole family.

“We will.” J.T. wrapped his arms around Connor again, and she returned the sentiment, looking up at him in his arms while he mumbled to her, “I’m damn glad to see you, Duck.”

“I’m damn glad you remember me, Seph. You didn’t get too big for your britches and forget one of your childhood friends.” She thought for a moment, then added, “But you don’t go by Joseph anymore, so I should probably stop calling you ‘Seph,’ huh?”

“Please don’t stop calling me Seph,” he nearly whispered.

“Okay,” Connor whispered back. She stared at his lips and wondered how his beard would feel against her face. He’d shaved it recently, and she was glad; his playoff beard was looking ratty.

“Okay,” J.T. repeated. He was looking down at her, some glint of something in his dark eyes that Connor couldn’t identify. Joy? Guilt? Admiration? She couldn’t figure it out. 

“I’ve gotta go,” she said quickly, but didn’t want to let go.

“I do too,” J.T. sadly agreed. “But I’ll see you later.” He gave her one final squeeze, then released her and disappeared into the rink, leaving Connor alone.

“What the fuck is happening?” Connor muttered to herself, covering her face with her hands. Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking, all for Joseph Compher. All because Joseph Compher remembered her, remembered her nickname and her hot chocolate and her. He remembered her.

“Yo, why are you out here?”

Connor removed her face from her hands to see Corissa walking up to her. She relaxed her body, and sighed, “Corissa.”

Corissa raised an eyebrow at her. “Connor. What is it?”

“He remembered,” Connor whispered. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Corissa said loudly with a big grin.

“He remembered,” she whispered again, almost trying to convince herself that it was still real. “I walked up, and he called me ‘Duck,’ Cori. He brought me hot chocolate with Irish Cream.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Corissa repeated, her grin growing. 

“And Jesse and Morgan kept, like, elbowing each other and smirking at him and stuff. Like I said, ‘Hey Seph,’ and Jesse elbowed Morgan. Like they’d talked about it too,” Connor added.

“Bro,” Corissa said excitedly, “he’s into you! He so is!” 

Connor shrugged. “He's just being nice. We have history.”

“Sure, if that’s what you wanna call it, then call it history.”

“C’mon, we’ve gotta get inside. People are coming soon,” Connor tried to divert her sister. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Corissa said as they walked into the rink. 

People began showing up shortly after that, and then Connor began running around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to keep things going smoothly. She hardly saw any of the Comphers, let alone J.T., during the ceremony, during the photo ops, during the whole event. She didn’t even get to see J.T. raise the Cup for the youth teams, including her girls, which made her sad, but she knew there would be video. She ended up back in her office as the event finished, and emerged when everyone had left. 

“Duck,” J.T. said happily when they finally saw each other. “We missed you.”

We? Or I? Connor thought.

“I missed you guys too,” she replied, “but I had about a million little fires to put out. How’d it go?”

“Really good. It was awesome,” J.T. said with a soft smile. “I think the kids loved it.”

“I’m sure, my girls have been talking nonstop about it, and I know I haven’t heard the end of it.” 

“I, uh, I would be happy to come to practice and hang out with them,” J.T. offered. “I’ve gotta go back to Denver for a bit, but I’ll be back. I could probably drag Jesse, too.”

“You’d do that?” asked Connor incredulously. An NHL Player making time to come work with her girls would make them so excited, especially J.T..

“For you, Duck? Anything.” J.T. reached out and put a hand on her arm.

Connor swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her throat, her stomach in knots. God, he’d grown up so well, had such broad shoulders, such nice lips. “Seph,” she mumbled. “Thank you.”

“I owe you an apology, too,” J.T. said, looking at the floor but keeping his hand on her. “For not texting or calling once I left. College got in the way, but that isn’t an excuse.”

“It’s okay, Seph, really—.”

“It’s not, Connor, I ghosted you. You were one of my best friends, you let me on the ice whenever I asked, and then I dipped. And I’m sorry for that.” He licked his lips and looked her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Connor whispered. “I could’ve called, too.”

“It’s not your fault, Duck. Let me make it up to you. Come out with us tonight.” J.T. pushed a strand of curly hair behind Connor’s ear. 

“Seph—.”

“Please?” His eyes were wide and hopeful. 

“I have to run parties tonight.”

“We’ll be out most of the night. Come join us when you’re done.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Connor blurted out suddenly.

J.T. was stunned, blinking at her. “I did,” he said slowly, “but it didn’t work out.”

“Oh.”

“And you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Connor’s cheeks burned. “No,” she simply answered, instead of the complicated answer that she usually gave, which was that she’d never dated anyone before. None of them were J.T., none of them came close to him, and even years after they’d stopped talking, she couldn’t help but compare every man to him. 

“Perfect. I’m gonna be honest with you, I’m gonna be smashed, but I’ll have Morg or Jess make sure you get the address of the bar we’re at. Or you can call drunk J.T., but I don’t think you’ll get very much out of him,” J.T. grinned. 

Connor half-smiled back at him. “We’ll see.”

“J!” Valerie Compher called from the door. “We’ve gotta get going!”

“Okay!” J.T. shouted back at his mom, then turned back to Connor. “Please come out with us. You don’t have to drink, I just want to spend time with you. Please.”

“I’ll have to go home and change, but I will.”

“Pinky promise?” J.T. held out his pinky, like he used to when they were kids. 

“Pinky promise,” Connor said, taking his pinky in hers and pressing their thumbs together.

J.T.’s grin returned. “I’ll see you tonight.”

July 15th

Joseph The Idiot (9:43 PM)

whereeeeearrreeeee youuuuuuuuu

you pinky promised you’d come out and you aren’t here yet :(

I’m the saddest ginger boy ever

Joseph The Idiot (9:55 PM)

Duckyyyyyyyyyyyy

I want to see your face

I went too long without your face

And I need it now

Joseph The Idiot (10:01 PM)

Birthday parties are sooooo lameeesee

Come party with me instead

I’m hotter

I’m cooler than birthday kids anyway

And I have the cup

Joseph The Idiot (10:15 PM)

I miss you

Pease come dancr wth me

Joseph The Idiot (10:24 PM)

do u temembre th pRty o took yoh ti

whwre wd olayes 7 munutes in haeven 

Qnd yiu kixxed Alrx Smuth 

I qas sooooiiiiiioooo jeslius 

Connor (10:38 PM)

Oh boy, you’re having fun

It was later than she’d expected she’d be when Connor texted Jesse and Morgan asking what bar they were at. Morgan answered quickly, and Connor hopped in an Uber to meet them at a local rooftop bar.

She walked out onto the roof to see J.T. and several friends chugging beers. He got about halfway through the beer, then poured the rest of it over his head and cheered. The crowd around him cheered, too.

“Ducky!” he hollered, stumbling over to Connor. She caught him as he nearly tripped, and somehow ended up with his hands on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted him, stifling a laugh.

“‘M sooooo glad you showed up,” J.T. slurred heavily, his wide, blown-out eyes struggling to focus on her, his cheeks tinged with pink. 

“Oh yeah? Have you had any water?”

“Noooo,” J.T. shook his head and shouted. “I don’ need water!”

“Okay, big guy,” Connor chuckled. “Can I come in and get a drink?”

J.T.’s brow furrowed. “Bu’ you don’ drink.”

“It’s your Cup party, Seph, I’m gonna have a drink.”

A big, drunken grin came over his face and he turned over his shoulder and shouted, “DUCKY NEEDS A DRINK!” He wrapped a long, strong arm around Connor’s shoulder and escorted her over to the bar. 

“Con!” Jesse squealed. Connor didn’t think she’d ever hear Jesse’s voice in that octave, but had there been any dogs around, they may have started howling. “You made it!”

“I did!” 

“Ducky needs a drink!” J.T. repeated, more to the bartender than anyone else.

“What can I get you?” the bartender intentionally asked Connor. J.T. wandered off somewhere, and Connor knew she’d catch him in a second.

“Smart woman,” Connor laughed. 

The bartender shrugged and said, “I like to get paid.”

Connor laughed again. “Understandable. I’d like two shots of vodka with Coke, please. And whatever they’ve been pouring into the Cup to drink.”

“Got it.” The bartender began making her drink and asked, “So you’re Ducky?”

“Oh, God,” Connor rolled her eyes and muttered. “What’s he been saying?”

“Every time he’s gotten a drink, he’s told me you’re coming,” the bartender laughed. “Seems like someone’s got a little crush.”

Connor’s face flushed bright red. “We’re just friends,” she insisted. 

“Does he know that? You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.” The bartender slid her a bottle of Bud Light and her spiked Coke.

“Thanks,” Connor said sheepishly. “We haven’t seen each other in years, by the way. We were close as kids and in high school, then he went to college and we lost touch.”

“I’m guessing your name isn’t Ducky, right? Where’d that come from?”

“My last name is Maddox, and when he was a kid, he misspelled it M-a-d-d-u-c-k-s. It just stuck.” Connor pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slid it over to her.

“Oh, it’s covered already,” the bartender said, trying to push it back.

“I know,” Connor replied. “That’s for you. I don’t know if any of these dumbasses have tipped you or not.”

The bartender smiled, shoved the twenty in her apron, and said, “I appreciate it very much. You let me know if you need anything else.”

“And you let me know who doesn’t tip. I’ll make sure he tips you enough to make up for it.” Connor picked up her drinks and walked over to J.T., who was hugging the Cup with Morgan. 

“Ducky!” he said in surprise, like he’d forgotten she was there. “I’m soooooo glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Seph,” Connor replied, bemused. “I got this beer just so I could drink it out of the Cup, by the way. Can you help me?”

“Fuck yes!” J.T. yelled. “Morg, help me out.”

J.T. took the beer from Connor, cracked it open, and poured it into the Stanley Cup. He and Morgan carefully picked up the Cup as Connor bent down to one knee. Connor quickly handed Jesse her drink and her phone to take a video, and once Jesse was set and recording, Morgan and J.T. began to pour the beer from the Cup into Connor’s mouth. Connor grabbed the edge of the Cup to steady it, gulping down the frothy, amber liquid. It quickly splashed over her face and down her chest, and Connor was silently thankful she’d worn a romper with a black top. 

The crowd around her cheered as the last drops of beer flew out of the Cup and onto Connor’s face. J.T. and Morgan lifted the Cup up, and placed it back on its pedestal. Connor turned to Jesse, arms up in the air, and cheered as she continued to record. Jesse laughed and handed Connor’s phone and drink back to her. 

Connor suddenly felt herself being lifted into the air. She looked down to see J.T.’s grinning face as he spun her around 

“That was sick!” he exclaimed, putting her back down and wobbling on his own feet. “Oh good, you got a drink.”

Connor gulped down her spiked Coke. “Yeah, something to get the beer taste out of my mouth,” she laughed. 

“Let’s dance, Ducky!” J.T. grabbed her hand and tugged her over to the dance floor. He held both of her hands in his as they began to dance, just swaying and bouncing their bodies to the beat of the rap song playing over the speakers that Connor didn’t know and J.T. pretended to know.

Connor noticed J.T. kept licking his lips and looking at her. She swore he was looking at her lips, but he was so drunk she had no idea. J.T. pulled her in close to his body and Connor turned around to grind her ass on him instead. Why not tease him a bit?

“Oh shit,” J.T. groaned softly.

Connor brought his hands to her hips. He gripped her hard, but it felt nice. Connor had daydreamed about grinding on him at school dances every year in high school, and she wondered how mortified High School Connor would be to see Adult Connor living her dream. 

J.T. nuzzled his nose into Connor’s shoulder and neck. She froze when she felt his lips brush her skin.

“Why’d you stop?” J.T. whined, pulling at her hips.

“Did you kiss my shoulder?” Connor asked, glancing behind her. 

“Yeah,” J.T. shrugged. “I wanna kiss more of you but I can’t.”

Connor’s body went cold and she turned around in his arms, which he wrapped around the small of her back. “What?”

J.T.’s eyes fell to her lips again as he slurred, “I wanna kiss all of you. You look like you wanna leave, please don’ leave. I haven’ seen you in years and now you’re here and I wanna kiss you.”

“Joseph, you’re really drunk, and you’re definitely not gonna remember this in the morning,” Connor said. She put her hands on his chest, but she knew if he tried to kiss her, she would let him. 

“I can’ stop thinkin’ about you,” he said slowly. “I want you all the time. You know I dreamed about you las’ night? I dreamed I saw you and I kissed you and I fucked you in my childhood bedroom with the Cup next to us.”

Connor blushed hard. “Joseph,” she whispered. “We can’t. You’re drunk.”

“Yes, we can,” he said, much too loud. “Do you know how much I liked you as a kid? How when I asked you if I could skate it was just an excuse to be with you? You’re the reason I’m here to begin with!”

“My grandpa is the reason you’re here,” Connor corrected. 

“So? That doesn’ change how long I’ve been in love with you, Duck.” J.T.’s face was soft, eyes wide. 

But it didn’t matter, he was drunk. 

“J.T.,” Connor finally said, taking him aback. “We can’t do this right now.”

“I won’t remember any of this in the morning,” J.T. said somberly. “So just tell me yes or no. Did you like me too?”

“Seph…”

“Yes or no.”

Connor hesitated before she said, “Yes.”

A huge grin spread over J.T.’s face. “Fuck,” he laughed, “I wish I was gonna remember this.”

Connor looked at him, pained, and muttered, “Me too, Seph.”

July 16th

Joseph The Idiot (9:03 AM)

Holy fuck

I’m unbelievably hungover 

You didn’t come out last night :(

Connor (10:12 AM)

Yes I did!

[video]

You were already blacked out by the time I got there?

Joseph The Idiot (10:21 AM)

Shit

My bad

And I’m sorry for anything I said or did

Connor (10:25 AM)

Damn, so you don’t remember we got married last night?

Joseph The Idiot (10:27 AM)

Don’t even joke about that

That’s legally binding

If we got married, I’m fucked

Connor (10:28 AM)

Yeah you are, cause when we get divorced I’ll get half of your money

Joseph The Idiot (10:30 AM)

When? :(

Connor (10:34 AM)

You didn’t take me out to dinner first :/

Joseph The Idiot (10:35 AM)

You got me there

Connor (10:58 AM)

Do you have lunch plans? Wanna grab a bite?

Joseph The Idiot (11:05 AM)

Fuck, I wish I could

I’m about to board a plane back to Denver

I’ll be back in two weeks

Connor (11:12 AM)

Damn, that sucks. Safe travels!

When you come back, how about dropping in on my girls’ practices? Make up for ditching me?

Joseph The Idiot (11:22 AM)

You bet.

Taking off, see you on the flip!

Jesse Compher (12:04 PM)

Hey, can I call you?

Connor’s heart banged in her chest as she read Jesse’s message. Shit, did she remember what happened last night? She cautiously shut her office door and dialed Jesse’s number. 

“Hey!” Jesse answered cheerily.

“Hey,” Connor replied with a small chuckle. “You sound like you feel better than Seph did this morning.”

Jesse laughed back, “Definitely. The miracles of hydrating after drinking.”

“So what’s up?”

“Okay,” Jesse began, “hear me out before you tell me no.”

“Oh, boy.”

“You’ve played hockey your whole life. I’m pretty sure you could still keep up with me if not be quicker than me, and J.T. said he mentioned pro hockey to you. Are you interested?”

Connor was shocked. She sat silently on the other end of the phone for so long that Jesse started calling her name.

“Sorry, I’m here,” Connor finally managed. “You think I’m good enough? I played club hockey in college, but I played with a lot of boys.”

“What time does the rink close tonight? Maybe I could come over and we could skate. I’ll bring you a Red Bull.” Jesse sounded bemused; like her brother, she’d spent most of her childhood at the rink, and though she was two years younger than Connor, they’d still been pretty close. Jesse always brought Connor a Red Bull instead of a hot chocolate, because that was ‘J’s thing.’

“We close at nine. I’d make the excuse that I don’t have my skates, but we both know that’s not true. I’ll see you at nine?” Connor couldn't believe what she was saying. 

“See you at nine,” Jesse replied. As Connor was about to hand up, Jesse added, “Oh, Con? J.T. doesn’t remember last night, but I do.”

Connor’s mouth went dry and she squealed out, “Oh?”

“Tell him. Tell him what he said.”

“I can’t, Jess. It’ll seem like I’m just a gold-digger or something.”

“Sure you can. It doesn’t matter what other people think.”

“I …” Connor trailed off. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll keep reminding you.” Connor could hear the smirk on Jesse’s face.

“I know you will. I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight. Bye!”

“Bye!”

Connor buried her face in her hands. What the fuck had she just agreed to? If she still skated better than Jesse, an Olympian, could she really make it as a pro? Could she leave her girls?

Questions plagued her mind as the day dragged on, until Jesse’s grinning face appeared in her office at exactly 8:30, clutching two Red Bulls and her stick, a backpack on her shoulders. 

“On time is late,” she joked, tossing one Red Bull to Connor. 

Connor tapped the sides and cracked it open. “That’s probably why I haven’t played pro yet. I’m habitually late.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I’m gonna go warm up. I paid the entrance fee for free skate at the front.”

“Jesse!” Connor laughed. “Why?”

“Cause I wanted to,” shrugged Jesse. “It’s the least I can do.”

Connor’s heart warmed. “Thanks, Jess. You mind if I zamb after we skate?”

“Nah, I don’t care. I’ll see you out there.”

Jesse left Connor’s office, and a few moments later, Connor watched her zoom around the free skate stragglers. She watched two little girls—she recognized them as sisters of a couple of her players—stare at Jesse in awe. 

Connor joined Jesse after a bit, clutching her stick and wearing her helmet and gloves in addition to her skates, before Robin made the announcement that they’d be closing in five minutes. She skated out to the center of the ice, waved at the girls who were staring at Jesse, and pushed off on her skates. Skating clockwise, Connor slowly crossed over when she turned, and took big, powerful strides to warm her muscles up. The ice under her was bumpy and rough from the hours of free skate, and she noticed her skates needed sharpening.

Jesse skated up to her, blowing snow when she stopped, to the girls’ amazement. As Robin made the “We’re closed, please leave” announcement, Jesse grabbed a puck and began skating around with it, dangling past imaginary defensemen. Connor took a sip of her water bottle she’d brought with her, then grabbed another puck and passed it to herself off the boards. 

“Okay,” Jesse said once the ice had cleared and everyone had gone home. “First thing’s first. You were always faster than me, so let’s race. Start at the red, go around clockwise, first one back to the red wins.”

“Just like the All-Star fastest skater race?” Connor asked with a grin.

“Exactly.” Jesse grinned back. 

They skated over to the refs’ circle by the score box, but Connor stopped them before they could start. 

“Wait, we should have Robin time us and tell us when to go,” Connor suggested. “I don’t want you cheating to make me feel good about myself.” Jesse nodded, so Connor called Robin over, explained what they needed, and got ready to race. 

“Ready…” Robin said, “set … go!”

Connor leapt forward on her skates. She leaned down as far as she could, her knees bent, flying around the faceoff circles. She quickly crossed her left foot over her right, still gaining speed as she straightened out and skated parallel to the boards. Her lungs burned from the cold and her legs burned, but she continued to push, gaining even more speed on her second turn. She flew past the red line, turned, and stopped at center ice before she flopped down on her back. 

“Holy shit,” Connor gasped and looked at Jesse, who was hunched over and panting herself. 

“You beat me,” Jesse said with a grin. “And I was going faster than full speed. Robin, what was the time?”

“Connor’s was 14.2 seconds,” Robin said. 

“Connor!” Jesse gasped in surprise. “Dude!”

“That means nothing,” retorted Connor. “Speed and skill are two different things.”

“Okay, so challenge me then. Keep me from scoring.”

Connor laughed, “I need like, two more minutes of laying on the ice.”

“But you still beat me,” Jesse said. “Like, I was probably a full second behind you.”

“Like I said, speed doesn’t equal skill.”

“We’ll see.” 

After a few more minutes of laying on the ice, Connor got up, squirted some water into her mouth, and set up in front of Jesse, who had collected several pucks at center ice. 

“Defend me,” she challenged. “I’m gonna try to shoot at the crease basically.”

Connor nodded, then placed her stick on the ice and leaned on it, feeling the flex push back against her. Jesse pushed the puck around with her stick a few times before settling like Connor did, leaning on her stick. Connor nodded at her, and with a grin, Jesse pushed the puck forward. 

Connor skated backwards to keep her eyes on Jesse. She easily kept pace with her friend, driving her to the boards with her stick before she poke checked the puck off Jesse’s stick and off the boards. Jesse whirled around to try and regain control, but Connor had already snatched the puck away from her and skated down to the opposite blue line with it.

Jesse grinned under her cage. “How the fuck did you poke check like that? You’ve gotta teach me.”

“Let’s go again,” Connor insisted, not convinced that Jesse wasn’t taking it easy on her. 

“Whatever you say, Con,” said Jesse. She skated back to center ice, grabbed a new puck, and attempted to take it straight down the middle. Connor raced to meet her between the circles, so Jesse dangled the puck towards Connor to throw her off. Connor wasn’t phased by her attempt, however, and kicked the puck off Jesse’s stick, then took control of it and brought it back to center ice. 

“It’s because there’s not a goal to shoot on,” Connor said. She clambered over the edge of the ice to the area where they kept their goals, grabbed one, and lowered it down onto the ice. Jesse took it and skated it over to the crease while Connor carefully climbed back onto the ice. 

“Now there’s a goal,” Jesse said, skating to center ice, “so let’s go again?”

Again and again, Connor defended Jesse, stealing the puck in every way imaginable, until Jesse’s grin melted into a touch of frustration. Jesse finally fired off a slapshot that Connor couldn’t stop, so it went sailing into the net and Jesse yelped out a strangled cheer. 

“Fucking finally,” she muttered. “You wanna switch? You shoot and I’ll defend?”

“Yeah, sure! You’re gonna crush me though, I’m not a great offensive defenseman,” Connor shrugged. 

“Connor, I’m telling you this because we’ve been friends a long time, and even though we haven’t chatted in a while, I still consider you a close friend so listen to me: Shut the fuck up.”

Connor blushed. 

“You’re doing incredible,” Jesse continued. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep your edges so well, but I firmly believe you could sign a pro contract right now.”

Connor’s blush deepened. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll try. Register as a free agent with the PHF, and they’ll contact you. If you wanna wait til you show up J.T. too, that’s fine, but just tell me you’ll give it a shot,” pleaded Jesse. 

“I don’t think I can leave the rink,” Connor said softly. “They need me here.”

“Cross that bridge when you come to it. Just see if a team will give you a try out.”

Connor chewed on her lip, thinking. Finally, she said, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Jesse asked excitedly. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“No,” Connor responded as a grin spread across her face. “I’m not. I’ll give it a shot.”

“Fuck yes!” Jesse cheered, skating towards Connor and throwing her arms around her. “You’re gonna be great, I promise. Now, you just have to tell J.T. what he said last night.”

“Ha, absolutely not,” Connor chuckled. “He can confess his love to me sober.”

July 17th

Joseph The Idiot (10:48 AM)

Jesse told me about your practice session

Connor (10:49 AM)

Of course she did 😂

Joseph The Idiot (10:53 AM)

Are you gonna do it? 

Connor (10:55 AM)

I’m going to try. I’m filling out the free agent registration right now

[image of Connor’s computer]

Joseph The Idiot (10:59 AM)

Fuck yeah

Jesse would know more people than I do, but I’m gonna ask around about the process, too

Connor (11:00 AM)

Thank you Seph 🥹

Joseph The Idiot (11:04 AM)

Anything for you!

July 19th

Joseph The Idiot (1:31 PM)

I’m coming back to NB on the 27th!

How about that lunch? 

Connor (1:36 PM)

What day?

Joseph The Idiot (1:39 PM)

The 28th at Max & Benny’s?

Connor (1:41 PM)

Perfect!

Joseph The Idiot (1:44 PM)

When do you have practice with your kids?

Connor (2:03 PM)

Every day. M/W is U12s and U16s, T/Th is U14s/U19s, Friday is everyone, Saturday is class for the babies. Weekday training starts at 10 am, Saturday starts at 9

Joseph The Idiot (2:05 PM)

Damn

You’ve got them practicing a lot, huh?

Connor (2:06 PM)

Well it’s summer so they don’t have school, and they love it honestly

Joseph The Idiot (2:07 PM)

I’d love it too if I was their age

Which practices do you want me to come to?

Connor (2:10 PM) 

All of them? They would all benefit from it

Joseph The Idiot (2:17 PM)

I’ll only deal with the young kids for you

Just for you

Connor (2:20 PM)

If you kill one of my kids I’ll kill you and replace you with Jesse

Joseph The Idiot (2:26 PM)

She did always want to be J.T. Jr

July 22nd

Joseph The Idiot (11:27 PM)

Di yoh thjnk pigs ciuls gly if rhey tries hqrd enougt 

Connor (11:29 PM)

Drinking again are we?

Joseph The Idiot (11:35 PM)

Nooooooiiiiioooooo

I muss yiu

Connor (11:36 PM)

You’ll see me next week seph 

Joseph The Idiot (11:38 PM)

Nor sooon enoygh 

Inwanna kisss tou ao basd 

Connor (11:43 PM)

They really should take your phone when you’re drunk

Joseph The Idiot (11:47 PM)

Noooiooi thry csnt I’m a chsmpiun!

Connor (11:50 PM)

You are a champion

Drink some water seph 

July 23rd

Joseph The Idiot (12:00 AM)

Hsppu nrw yaer!!!!!

Connor (12:04 AM)

Seph 😂 It’s July

Joseph The Idiot (12:06 AM)

NI ITWS NOIT

Connor (12:10 AM)

Goodnight Seph, I’m going to bed 

Joseph The Idiot (12:17 AM) 

NNOOOOOOOIP

Cime bafk 

I lovr yiu 

NI i donr i hqte yiu

Ik kudt kuddinh 

I lpre yoh 

Joseph The Idiot (1:14 AM)

Qusck qusfk 

Her ut 

Cahse gour nwme is duck

hehehewhee

Joseph The Idiot (2:16 AM)

Ih nu my ecx id here

Noooooiiioooooo gp awsy 

Stipid wx 

Joseph The Idiot (3:43 AM)

Hehe i ficked my ex

Bur i qas thijkimg sbout yoh 

Joseph The Idiot (8:59 AM)

Jesus Christ

I’m so sorry, Connor

Connor was fuming. What was J.T.’s deal? He’d led her on as a kid, then waltzed back into her life like it was nothing. She angrily called Jesse later in the day.

“Jesse, I’m going to murder him,” Connor growled. 

“Okay, totally valid,” Jesse agreed. “He’s being an ass about this whole thing, but what he told me was that now that he won the Cup, he realized that he was only missing one thing, and that was you.”

“He did not say that.”

“He did. I have proof.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hang on.”

Connor heard rustling, then felt her phone buzz. “What did you send me?” She questioned Jesse. 

“Evidence.”

Connor pulled her phone away from her ear, put it on speaker, then looked at the screenshots Jesse sent her. 

July 17th

Jesse (5:01 PM)

What’s up?

J.T. (5:17 PM)

I think I’m in love with Connor

Like i have been since we were kids

And seeing her the other day just made everything come rushing back

Jesse (5:29 PM)

Why now?

J.T. (5:32 PM)

When we won the cup I realized that all I wanted to do was share it with her

Even though I hadn’t seen her in years

And I fucked it up when I ghosted her

But when I saw her and she looked at me like that? 

I knew she was the only thing I was missing

I had the cup

And I needed to work to get her back

It’s her, Jess

It’s always been Connor

Connor’s face burned as she read the messages. If he felt this strongly, why hadn’t he said something yet? She supposed he had, but she’d written it off as drunken ramblings. She was terrified of the idea of him actually reciprocating her feelings; being rejected was one thing, but being liked back was almost scarier. 

“Con? You there?”

Connor was startled, having forgotten she was on the phone, and replied, “What?”

“I asked what you thought of his messages.”

“Oh. They terrify me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never had a boyfriend, Jess. So the idea of him liking me back is so scary, because I’ve felt the same way about him since I can remember. I legitimately remember meeting him on the ice and asking him to be my friend. I realized I liked him when I was like, seven. My grandpa—,” Connor’s voice caught. She cleared it, then continued, “My grandpa used to tell me J.T. was going to win a Stanley Cup. And I used to tell him that he was going to marry me first.”

“I remember when I realized you liked him. You came over for a sleepover when you were like, twelve probably. My parents made him watch a movie with us and he was so mad, but you kept looking at him the whole time,” Jesse laughed. “I was so confused, because I was sitting there like, ‘Out of all the guys we know, you picked my brother?’ I idolized him, but you liked him. It was so weird to me.”

“Is it weird now?”

“Nah. You’re soulmates. Just remember we had this conversation and share it at your wedding, okay? That I set you guys up.” Connor could hear the grin in Jesse’s voice. 

“Whatever,” Connor said back, a grin plastered on her own face. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, Love Bird,” teased Jesse. “Bye.”

Connor shifted on her skates as she waited for J.T. and the rest of her girls to join her. Jesse was already on the ice, skating around with some of the girls. J.T. came out finally, his helmet and visor shoved messily on his finger hair, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a navy blue Avs pullover.

“Hi,” he said with a grin, bumping her with his hip. 

“Hi,” Connor replied. “How was Denver?”

“It was great, but I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”

Connor smiled softly. “I missed you too. Are you ready?”

J.T. replied, “Let’s do it.”

Connor blew her whistle to have the girls and the other coaches gather around. The girls knelt on the ice in front of them, the coaches gathering next to Connor, J.T., and Jesse. 

“Good morning, ladies,” Connor greeted. “I want to take a quick second and introduce some special guests who will be helping us during practice today. They were both just like you guys, skating here, and now they’ve done some pretty cool things. This is Jesse Compher—,” Connor motioned to Jesse—“and she was a member of the US Women’s Hockey team that just played in the Olympics in China. She got a silver medal, which is pretty dope, right?”

“Right!” the girls cheered. 

“And believe it or not, this is Jesse’s brother, J.T.. J.T. plays in the NHL and just won the Stanley Cup for the Colorado Avalanche. So they both know hockey pretty well. If they ask you a question, or tell you to do something a certain way, they know what they’re doing. Any questions?”

The girls looked around at each other before another coach said, “Alright, let’s split up like normal!” 

The coaches and players split off, the older girls on one side of the red line, the younger girls on the other, and Connor skated over to be with the older girls, her U19s. Another coach started them off in a skating drill while J.T., Jesse, and Connor watched the girls, giving them pointers on how to improve their strides. Connor made sure to point out the girls she thought had college or pro potential to Jesse.

J.T. then began skating the drills with the girls. Connor gazed at him talking to the girls in line, pointing things out to them as their teammates skated, laughing with them and hanging out with them. Connor had always thought he’d make a good coach, but seeing the way he interacted with her kids confirmed that.

They moved onto a couple more drills, which J.T. participated in with the team. Jesse joined him, going out of her way to talk to some of the girls Connor had mentioned as she skated with them. 

Eventually, they started a scrimmage, J.T. on one team, Jesse on the other. Seeing them reminded Connor of when they were kids, when nothing mattered except playing hockey, when she wasn’t aware she was in love with J.T. and that he was in love with her. J.T. skated like he was having the time of his life, too; he had a huge grin every time he took the ice, every time one of the girls stopped his attempts.

Practice ended at noon, but J.T. and Jesse hung around on the ice to take pictures, answer questions, and just spend time with the girls. Connor had to physically kick them off the ice so Robin could run the Zamboni, but the Comphers continued to talk to Connor’s kids. When the last girl left to go get undressed, J.T. finally plopped down next to Connor on the bench in front of her office window, with a wide grin on his face. 

“Hi,” he said happily. 

“Hiya. You’re happy,” she teased. 

“That was way more fun than I expected, to be honest. Those kids had great questions, they’re funny, and God, some of them can skate.”

“That’s why I wanted you to come,” Connor said, laying her head on J.T.’s arm. “They work so hard, too. I’m just so proud of them.”

“You should be. Cassie over there? That I was talking to? She’s gonna be a Jesse. Her hockey sense is just off the charts. And Lucy too? I was so impressed.” J.T. took off his helmet and began untying his skates. 

“Yeah,” Connor agreed, smiling at the ground. “Yeah, they’re gonna be stars. I’ve trained them since they were little. Cassie’s going to Minnesota, Lucy’s still deciding, but her top choice right now is Michigan.”

“And you didn’t tell me before?” J.T. asked incredulously. 

Connor smirked. “I didn’t want you influencing her. She needs to decide on her own, Seph.”

“I would never try to influence her to go to the greatest school in the world,” J.T. said proudly. 

Rolling her eyes, Connor said, “Whatever. Some of us actually finished college.”

J.T. shoved Connor playfully. “I was gonna buy lunch, but with that blow maybe we’ll split the check.”

“You’d make me pay for my own food?” Connor asked, giving J.T. puppy eyes. “Is chivalry dead?”

“You’re incorrigible,” laughed J.T.. “Hurry up, I’m starving.”

“Me too.” Connor quickly tugged her skates off and padded into her office to slip on her sneakers and drop off her skates. She rejoined J.T. in front of her office, and the two of them walked out of the rink together. 

“Jesse drove me,” J.T. said, “so can I catch a ride with you?”

“No. You can walk.”

J.T. made a face and reached for Connor’s passenger side door anyway. “Funny.”

Connor smirked and climbed in the car with J.T.. They quietly drove to Max & Benny’s, then got a table in the corner. J.T. sat with his back to the door, his attention fully on Connor. He gazed at her, some glint in his deep brown eyes. 

“I’m getting a milkshake before lunch,” Connor said to break his gaze. 

“Life’s too short to not have dessert first,” J.T. chuckled, quoting Connor’s signature phrase from high school. 

The waiter came over to take their drink orders, but J.T. and Connor had been there so often that they knew what they wanted. J.T. ordered a water and a double cheeseburger with everything on it, fries and broccoli on the side. Connor ordered a chocolate milkshake and a BLT with fries. The waiter left, returned after a moment with two waters, and left them alone again.

“So,” J.T. said, “how was everything while I was in Denver?”

“I’m in love with you, Joseph,” Connor blurted out. 

J.T. blinked. “Pardon?”

Connor took a deep breath, then said, “I’m in love with you. I have been since we were kids, before I even knew what it meant to be in love with someone. You kept drunk texting me and I didn’t want to believe that you felt the same way, but now I just—I just can’t convince myself anymore. I love you.”

J.T. sat quietly. He swallowed hard, he licked his lips anxiously. He looked around, his leg shaking. He was trying to think of what to say, and the longer the silence loomed, the more Connor wanted to run away. 

“Every morning,” J.T. finally said, his voice cracking a bit. “Every morning, I wake up and think of you. Every night when I go to sleep, I think of you. When I lifted the Cup, all I wanted in the world was for you to be there with me. It’s like I finally allowed myself to feel it, you know? I’m so in love with you, Connor Maddox, and I don’t want to go another day without you.”

Connor stared at him until they both cracked and grinned at each other. “Why the fuck did we wait this long to tell each other?” she laughed.

“Great fucking question,” J.T. laughed back. “I want to kiss you so bad but I think we’d get kicked out.”

“Why?”

J.T. smirked. “Because I don’t just want to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Connor didn’t have a witty comeback; the thoughts and wonders of what J.T. wanted to do to her consumed her brain.

“Our food better get here fast,” J.T. said, turning to look at the kitchen impatiently. Under the table, he moved his foot so it was against Connor’s, lightly rubbing against it. 

“Wow, playing footsie, Seph? What are we, fourteen?” Connor chirped.

“Listen,” J.T. said loudly, then looked around before he continued in a hushed voice, barely audible. “The second I get you alone, I’m gonna wreck you.”

“How do you know I wanna be wrecked?” Connor’s voice wavered as she tried to tease him.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you want me to wreck you?”

Connor’s face went bright red at the thought. She licked her lips and answered, “Maybe.”

“You’re blushing,” J.T. observed.

“And?”

“When you say maybe, it means yes, you just don’t want to say yes. You’ve done that forever, Duck. But I need to hear you say ‘yes.’” 

“I’m…” Connor trailed off and looked down.

“What?” J.T. asked, reaching for her hands comfortingly. “You can say no, that’s perfectly fine. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a little longer.”

“No, it’s not that, I just, um, have never had a boyfriend before so I don’t know how this all works. And technically, I’ve never had sex with another person, but like, I take care of myself.” Connor’s face flushed even more.

“There’s not a certain way that it works, really, it’s up to us,” J.T. said softly. He rubbed his thumb over Connor’s knuckles. “Do … Do you want me to be your boyfriend? I’d say we’re moving quickly, but considering the fact that we’ve been pining over each other our whole lives, I think we’re fine.”

“Seph, I want that more than anything,” Connor breathed. 

“Excellent,” J.T. said with a huge grin. “I’ll get you flowers and romantic shit later, girlfriend.”

“Please don’t call me ‘girlfriend’ like that,” laughed Connor. 

J.T. agreed, “Yeah, I didn’t like that either.”

Their waiter reappeared with their meals and Connor’s shake. The two of them ate quickly, not talking, just wanting to get out of the restaurant and go somewhere alone. J.T. paid for their food, then, tightly clutching Connor’s hand, led her out to her car. 

They quickly clambered into Connor’s car. J.T. kept a firm hand on her thigh and Connor began to drive, with no idea where she was going, thoughts racing. She didn’t know if her sister was home, since she was a teacher and it was summer vacation, and she eventually found an empty parking lot. She threw the car into park, turned it off, and nearly threw herself across the center console into J.T.’s lap, straddling him. 

J.T. grabbed her hips to help her over, then let his hands drift down slightly to grip her ass. Connor stared at him for a moment, not moving, not kissing him, just staring into his dark brown eyes. She brought her hands to his face and dragged her fingertips delicately across his stubble. 

“You shaved,” Connor commented.

“You told me my playoff beard looked terrible,” J.T. laughed. “You told me it was too long and that you liked stubble like this.”

Connor furrowed her brow. “Did I? When did I say that?” 

“When we were drunk on the roof on my Cup day.”

“I thought you didn’t remember that I showed up.”

“I lied,” J.T. shrugged. “I remember everything. The way you danced on me, everything I told you, all of it. You were freaked out, so I pretended I didn’t remember.”

“You could’ve just told me it was the truth,” Connor teased. 

“And be vulnerable? Nah.”

Connor laughed, then gasped slightly when she felt J.T. shift under her, sending a small bump of pleasure through her. She put her hands on his chest to try and halt him, but he grinned and rolled his hips into hers, slowly and intentionally.

“Asshole,” Connor groaned. “You haven’t even kissed me yet and you’re sitting there teasing me like that?”

J.T. didn’t answer; instead, he gripped her ass, pulling her down while he rolled his hips again, increasing the friction and pressure against her core. She closed her eyes as the pleasure washed over her. 

“Joseph,” said Connor desperately. “Joseph, I’m so close already, you have to stop.”

“You’re about to come already?” he mocked. “I’ve barely touched you.”

“Shut up and fucking kiss me, you dick,” Connor commanded. She leaned in and fiercely pressed her lips against hers, pressing into his body eagerly. J.T. chuckled against her mouth before giving into her and softly parting his lips. His tongue darted out to brush against Connor’s lips. 

Connor pulled back, gasping for air. She’d forgotten how to breathe, how to speak, how to function.

“Are you okay?” J.T. asked. “We can stop if this is too much.”

“Please don’t stop,” Connor whispered. “I just forgot to breathe.”

“Breathing is pretty important,” J.T. laughed, licking his lips and grinning slyly.

Connor knew what he was about to do and warned, “Joseph, don’t you d—.”

J.T. held tightly to Connor’s ass as he rolled his hips up into Connor’s core. Connor clenched around nothing, once again dangerously close to coming. 

“Fuck!” Connor yelped.

“I wanna make you come,” J.T. whined, bucking his hips up again. 

“This is how you wanna make me come for the first time? Dry humping like teenagers?” Connor asked incredulously. 

“Mmm-hmm,” he responded. “Please?”

“If you promise to do better later.”

J.T. cocked his eyebrow. “Later?”

“Yeah, later, when I kick my sister out so we can properly fuck,” Connor said. 

“So,” J.T. tugged her in close, nipping at her lips. “How do you want me to make you come later?”

Connor breathed out a moan when J.T. began kissing down her neck. “Um…”

“I’m listening,” J.T. mumbled against her. He softly bit her neck and sucked the skin between his teeth.

“No hickies,” she said quickly. “We aren’t teenagers.”

“Mmm, but here we are, dry humping in my car like we’re sixteen,” teased J.T.. He bucked his hips up into hers again and she jumped as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Um,” Connor gasped, “I want you to make me come with your mouth.”

“Keep going.”

Connor rolled her hips, her mouth falling open a tiny bit as she dragged herself across J.T.’s hardening cock. His breath caught as she did, and her thoughts went fuzzy at the sound. He was moaning like that because of her. 

“I,” Connor breathed and continued rolling her hips, establishing a slow rhythm that ground into him as much as she could. “I wanna feel your stubble between my thighs.”

“My tongue on your clit,” he whispered. His grip tightened on her ass and she felt dizzy. 

“Fuck,” squeaked Connor. She could feel her orgasm building again quickly. 

J.T. lazily mouthed at her neck, driving the pace of her grinding with his hands and matching it with the rolling of his hips. “Bet you taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled.

Connor clenched her thighs tightly over him and moaned, “Oh fuck, J.T., I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah? I wanna feel you clench your thighs like that around my face,” J.T. continued, dragging his mouth across her neck, searching for her lips. “Wanna slide my tongue all around your pussy while you—”

“Shit, I’m coming,” Connor groaned as a soft orgasm washed through her, leaving her feeling cold. She clenched around nothing, but kept grinding against J.T. until she was too sensitive to continue and twitched to a stop with a small gasp. 

“No, fuck, don’t stop,” J.T. grunted desperately. “I’m so close too, holy shit.”

Connor carefully re-established her previous pace, grinding on J.T.. His hands froze when Connor captured his lips in hers and placed open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

“Come for me, J.T.,” Connor muttered into his skin. 

“Oh my god,” yelped J.T.. Connor felt his dick twitch, then a small wet spot slowly appeared through his gray sweatpants. 

“Oops,” Connor giggled. She softly pressed the wet spot and J.T. jumped. 

“Fuck!” he gasped in surprise, then laughed. “Oh, God, I do feel like a teenager.”

“You came in your pants dry humping in a car.”

“So did you!” J.T. protested.

“Yeah, but no one will know that I did.” Connor smirked. 

J.T. rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Drive somewhere soon, please, because if I don’t get my mouth on you in the next twenty minutes, I’m gonna put you on the trunk of your car and fuck you with my tongue in front of anyone and everyone who’s around.”

 The call came a few weeks after Connor registered as a free agent with the PHF. 

“Hello?” Connor answered the unknown number. 

“Hi, is this Connor Maddox?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Hi, Connor, this is Ronda Engelhardt. I’m the head coach of the Minnesota Whitecaps. How are you today?”

Holy fuck. 

“Hi, uh, I’m, uh, I’m great.”

“That’s good to hear. I saw that you registered as a free agent with the league, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming to a tryout day with us,” Ronda explained. “Your history is different than what we’re used to, but I’ve heard some really good things about you.”

“From who?” Connor smiled, knowing the answer already.

“Jesse Compher from the US National Team. She gave me a call and recommended you.”

Connor’s smile widened. “I figured. I’ve known Jesse our whole lives.”

“She credited you with being the reason she made the Olympics and the reason her brother just won a Stanley Cup. That’s high praise, and I don’t take that lightly, which is why we’d love to fly you up to St. Paul. How does that sound to you?”

“I would love that,” Connor said, “I just have a couple questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! Ask away!”

“I currently manage a rink myself, and I understand that most of the ladies have to have extra jobs to supplement their income. Is that something that I would be able to continue doing?”

“I think we could make that work for you, Connor.”

The next day, Connor found herself on a flight to St. Paul. As she waited in the airport, she nervously texted J.T.. 

Connor (8:32 AM)

Seph I’m terrified

Joseph The Idiot (8:33 AM)

You’re gonna be fine

You just go and be yourself

They already like you

Connor (8:35 AM)

They like what they saw on paper and what Jesse told them, not me

Joseph The Idiot (8:38 AM)

Which is why you’re going to meet them

And play for them

Chemistry is more important than skill

Connor (8:40 AM)

But what if all the girls hate me?

Joseph The Idiot (8:42 AM)

That’s impossible 

Since I personally know at least one of them, I can guarantee at least one of them won’t hate you

Taylor Turnquist

Connor (8:45 AM)

So that’s one

Joseph The Idiot (8:46 AM)

Which means it’s impossible for all the girls to hate you

Connor (8:47 AM)

Asshole

Joseph The Idiot (8:48 AM)

A correct asshole

Connor (8:50 AM)

I’m boarding, love you seph

Joseph The Idiot (8:51 AM)

Love you too duck

Safe travels

Connor (10:23 AM)

Landed!

Joseph The Idiot (10:26 AM)

Good!

Did they get a car for you?

Connor (10:28 AM)

Supposedly

Joseph The Idiot (10:31 AM)

Let me know if they didn’t okay?

Connor (10:33 AM)

If they did, do you not wanna know? 

Joseph The Idiot (10:34 AM)

I walked into that one didn’t I

Let me know when you’re safe

Connor (10:46 AM)

I have a car! The driver had a sign! I’m on my way to the arena

Joseph The Idiot (10:49 AM)

Send pics!

Connor (11:02 AM)

Just got to the arena! They’re giving me a tour first

We’re in the locker room and they already have a locker with my name on it? And a jersey and gear? I haven’t even skated yet

Okay now I’m gonna skate with Ronda

Joseph The Idiot (12:00 PM)

How goes it?

Connor (12:04 PM)

Just got off the ice! Ronda’s awesome and I think they’re going to offer me

Joseph The Idiot (12:07 PM)

SERIOUSLY?

Connor (12:25 PM)

I just signed a contract Seph

Joseph The Idiot (12:26 PM)

Oh my fucking god

I’m so fucking proud of you

I love you so much

I cant wait to see you play

What number are you?

I need to buy a jersey

Think you can hook me up?

I’m so proud of you duck holy shit

Connor skated out onto the ice as her name was called by the announcer, clad in her Whitecaps jersey. She looked up into the stands and grinned up at J.T., who’d flown over for the game specifically: her first game. He sat next to Tyson Jost, and grinned down at her when he made eye contact with her. He blew her a kiss, which she caught, and Tyson gagged. J.T. shoved him. 

The game went by faster than any of her games ever had, and before she knew it, she was showering in the locker room after the game. She quickly redressed in her game-day outfit, then walked out of the locker room. Connor was greeted by a huge hug from J.T.. 

“You did it!” he cheered, swinging her around and kissing her face. “I’m so proud of you!”

“I wouldn’t have done it without you, honestly,” Connor said. “You mentioned it to me and put it in my head, and now here I am.”

“You’re a professional hockey player, Duck.”

“So are you, Seph.”

“You’re better,” J.T. retorted. 

“You make more money. And you won the Stanley Cup.”

J.T. chuckled and let her down on the ground, kissing her forehead. “Whatever, you still did it.”

“I know something else I’d like to do,” Connor said slyly, smirking at her boyfriend.

J.T. grinned at her. “Then let’s get out of here.” 

#jt compher #j.t. compher #jt compher imagine #jt compher smut #jt compher writing #j.t. compher imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche writing #nhl #hockey #nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey writing #nhl writing #jt compher x original character #jt compher x oc

[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

[ladylooch]

I have thots….

Mile high club

Timo is an obvi choice but may I present to you Barzy? Or MILES

And obvi if we’re talking OC’s for sure lio and con

Mmkay back to my bevies

😘🍻

I am having tequila high noons tonight… so it’s gonna be lit 🔥

The way you are making me choose about who to write this about.. what a predicament. 

But… my Woody girls are thirsty…. So let’s go with Miles MF Wood.

“Surprise!!!!” Miles yells as your sneakers hit the tarmac. The last fifteen minutes have been very confusing to you. You had arrived at the airport in Boston, ready for your new adventure together in Colorado. But everything took an unexpected turn when the car continued onto the tarmac of the airport. You were shuttled to a specific hanger that holds a private security area and the nicest airport lounge you have ever seen.

“We are flying private.” He wiggles his thick eyebrows at you.

“Baby, what…. This is… so…”

“Free!” He grins. “Paid for by our new team as a welcome to the Mile High City.” His arms stretch out to the side. The gap in his teeth is extra pronounced with his excitement. 

“Oh my god. I’m finally dating a real superstar.” You snort as you poke his stomach. His smile falls off. 

“Hey.”

“Sorry, you tee’d it up for me.”

You both get settled on the plane quickly taking off before you even register what is happening. Your take off drink of choices was mimosas due to the late morning time. 

“Cheers to our next adventure.” Miles clinks your glasses together. You take a sip, then his tongue chases the bubbles in your mouth, stretching out his seatbelt to maximum length.

“Babe.” You laugh at his aggressive kissing. Your plane is just hitting ten thousand feet and you feel a bit anxious as you always do during the first part of any flight. Something about being in a smaller plane isn’t very comforting to you.

“We are fucking before this plane ride is over.” Your boyfriend’s words snap you out of your anxious thoughts.

“What?”

“There is no way you’re getting off this plane without me being inside of you.”

“Babe!” You smack his huge thigh, glancing back at the flight attendant gathering together your cheese board appetizer. “No way.” You look at the lack of door between the cabin and the pilots as well as the openness of everything. Plus, you’re way too anxious of a flyer. “It would be so obvious.”

“I do not care.”

“Well, you’re not the only one participating.”

“You owe me. A bet is a bet.” Your face goes white. Shit. He is not actually making you pay up for your drunken bet that he wouldn’t go three years without getting replacement teeth. “You’re too vain.” You had giggled at him. Miles never “got around” to getting new teeth… and you didn’t really think anything of it because you love him and he’s so cute and sexy either way that whatever. Who needs teeth?

Damn, when did teeth get so negotiable to you.

Only Miles Wood could do that to you. And only he could make you unbuckle your seatbelt to straddle his lap. His prize for winning the bet was naming a time and place of his choice for you two to have sex. Apparently, this is the time and place. 

He reaches around your body to grab the inflight blanket provided. He folds it around your back. You have a full view of the flight attendant who has the cheese board in her hands, ready to walk it out to you. You make eye contact with her. You purse your lips. She immediately knows and turns around, closing the curtains.

“Oh my god. She closed the curtains.” You put your forehead on Miles’ shoulder in shame.

“Baby, they definitely deal with this all the time. With way grosser people than us. Let’s give them a show.”

“Miles, you fucker.” You whine as you reach for his belt. You cannot believe you are doing this. He is rigid beneath your fingers already panting at what you’re about to do. His blue eyes are wild with excitement as he grins at you. You take him out of his pants, unable to make eye contact with him as you stroke along his taut skin. He chuckles. 

“Baby, we don’t have to.” Him giving you the out makes you want it so much more. Your eyes meet his and he grins wider. “Yesssss, I knew you wanted to.”

“I see why you told me to wear the dress.” You had been debating between leggings and a dress, but he insisted on this.

“I’ve had this planned since I found out we were flying private.” He leans forward, sucking along your collarbone. “Fuck that feels good.” He moans as your fingers wrap tighter around him, stroking his length. “Oh.” He moans. 

“Okay you need to be quiet.” You say pointedly. He’s the loud one in this relationship. 

With his help, you shift your panties to the side. Miles leans his chair back, then guides your hips as you put him at your entrance. Your head falls back as you slide all the way down onto him. His thickness is intoxicating while stretching you to capacity. You roll your head forward again, watching the way his eyes flicker with waves of desire. His lips are pursed to keep his groans to himself.

Miles bucks into you. It’s a little awkward with not being able to move, but you find your rhythm quickly, wanting release.

“Ohhhmygod.” Miles’ head falls forward to your breasts, shoving between them as you squeeze his face between the mounds. “Baby.” He moans into your right breast, leaving a kiss there afterwards. 

Neither of you last long. It feels too good and so public and honestly, you needed this to relax and enjoy the rest of the flight. You rut into him with slow movements to bring you both down gently. Miles comes out from your breasts, puckering his lips for a kiss.

“I’m glad this is how we started our life in Colorado.”

“Me too.” You admit, brushing his curls off his forehead.

#Miles Wood blurb #Miles Wood X reader #hockey writing #my writing #NHL fan fiction #NHL imagine #colorado avalanche #<- wtf.... is that...? #NHL Smut

[huggybug]

Yes always a dad fic! With either Nate or Cale

turn the lights off, carry me it home - nathan mackinnon

word count: 1.4k words

no promises that this is good. it’s dad!nate but i just kinda wrote what came to mind so if it’s a little messy don’t pay it much attention! this is just because of the win and my break is still in effect until further notice :)

The clock ticks down until it’s zero’s across the board. They did it. They won the Stanley Cup. You can barely process it before everyone’s jumping up around you. Nate’s parents are hugging, his mom crying when she turns to hug you. You look over to see your daughter, Bella in Nate’s sister’s arms, waving her arms around as she screams with the rest of the family.

Everywhere you turn, there’s someone new to hug. The rest of the girls around you are cheering while filming the boys celebrating on the ice and you’re so caught up in the excitement to even realize what’s happen.

Soon enough, your section is being escorted down to the ice and you’re keeping Bella close to you just in case. Most of the kids didn’t come to Florida but Nate insisted that Bella was here. However the few that are here seem just as excited as anyone as they wave their little flags as the group makes their way down to ice level.

The girls all hang back while the families get to the guys first and then everyone breaks up and it’s absolute chaos on the ice. Your grip on Bella’s hand is tight and you carefully make your way through the crowd in search of your boyfriend.

“Bells!” Your head whips around to see Nate behind you which makes you all but jump into his arms. Bella, feeling a little left out, attaches herself to Nate’s leg which makes him laugh.

“Congratulations Babe” Nate’s holding you up with one arm while the other hold’s Bella securely to his leg so she doesn’t fall.

“Told you we’d do it” You can see the tears in his eyes as he nods, affirming the statement he’s been reiterating to you all season long.

“I never doubted you” You grinned before kissing him. “I knew you’d bring it home Nate, we all did, it was just a matter of time”

He set you down, quickly swapping you for Bella, hoisting her up into the air as she squealed. “You wanna go touch the cup Bells?” Nate asked and your heart pounded when you saw the way he looked at her. His eyes were full of happiness and love; it had been a while since you’d seen him like that. The stress of the season and lately the cup run was a lot on him and you could tell.

“Can I go to Uncle EJ?” Bella pointed about 10 feet away where EJ was celebrating with his family.

“Go quick, if he’s busy you come back okay?” Bella nodded and you watched your four year old run across the ice, straight into EJ’s arms who happily spins around with her.

“So…” You trail off, turning back to your boyfriend.

“So?” Nate asks, clearly amused if the look on his face says anything.

“I believe there was some sort of promise you made… something about you asking me something?” You smirk when Nate throws his head back in laughter.

It was something you’d been waiting for a while now. Nate was never supposed to be in your life forever. You were originally set up by your best friend who somehow knew EJ and the two plotted to set their ‘grumpy single friends’ up. Surprisingly, you and Nate hit it off and started dating. After a year together, you got pregnant with Bella and your relationship got a lot more serious very quickly. Before that, it was more for fun, Nate was coming off a fought season and you were just starting your first real job. You were both very career driven and relationships weren’t that big of a priority for either of you which actually was what made your connection so strong.

Neither of you were waiting around for a call or text every night. You had your own seperate lives and you were okay with that. Obviously a child changed that drastically. You moved in with Nate and your lives became more intertwined than ever. He got excited that he was now coming home to you, home games that you weren’t in attendance for were few and far in between, and if that wasn’t enough, as soon as he saw Bella, he was completely enthralled.

There was no way Nate was letting either of his girls out of his life anytime soon but he had yet to ask the big question. His parents liked to tease him about it more than you’d expect really. It wasn’t that they were upset that you had a child before getting married, they loved Bella almost as much as they loved Nate. And they loved you as well which is why any time they saw Nate, they’d pester him about his plans on popping the question.

The guys liked to make fun of him too but you always stayed quiet, you understood his reasoning on waiting. He was in a crucial time in his career right now and his main focus was hockey. He loved your little family, that would never change but he always claimed there were just some goals he wanted to accomplish before getting married.

It didn’t bother you, if anything, you admired how focused he could be. His promise was always that the day he won the cup, he’d ask. When his parents found out about that, they didn’t seem too pleased but you always said ‘okay’.

You weren’t going to pressure him to do it before and it wasn’t like you were going anywhere, no ring would change that, so there was no harm in waiting.

“A promise? I don’t know…” Nate chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon Nathan! You got your ring, now give me mine” You made little grabby hands at him which made him laugh, gently pushing you away.

“Alright calm down! I know what I promised, don’t worry”

“I touched it! I touched the trophies!” Bella comes flying into you as she slides along the ice and you laugh, steadying her before Nate picks her up.

“The trophies?” You ask.

“Mhm Uncle Cale let me touch his because he said Daddy should have won too” Bella explains and Nate shakes his head.

“C’mon Bells we’re going to go with Grandma and Grandpa while Daddy goes to celebrate okay?” You had noticed the group on the ice had started to thin out, the guys going back to the locker room while families filed out, either to head back to their hotel or to the banquet hall which was pre booked in the event that they did win.

“No!” Bella whined, clinging to Nate a little tighter. “I wanna go with Daddy!”

“Bells” Nate sighed, adjusting her in his arms. “You can’t come with me, you’ll get trampled” The locker room was going to be a mess and it was certainly not a place for kids.

“We can go find the girls, maybe they’ll want to come for ice cream before bed” Bella loved being apart of ‘the girls’. She would try to sneak out of bed whenever the wives came over for an away game watch party and you usually let her if it wasn’t too late.

“Okay! Do you want ice cream Daddy?”

“I’m fine B, we can go together when we get home, okay?” She nods and gives him a quick hug before squirming out of his arms and running off to where a group of girls were standing and talking.

“Guess we’re leaving now”

“See you at the party later?” Nate mumbled as he pulls you in for another hug.

“Of course” You smile and his easy smile back sends you for a loop again. It seems so surreal, even after you’ve done it all. You took your family pictures with the cup, watched as Nate celebrated with Gabe and EJ who had truly been through the worst of it with him. Everything that typically happened after a cup win, you had done it but it still doesn’t seem real.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea” Nate grabs your hand before you can walk away and just by the look in his eyes, you can tell what he’s thinking.

“We are not eloping in Tampa, Nathan” It was something he always joked about, that you’d just run off and get married one day but you knew his family would kill him.

“We can fly to Vegas” He suggested.

“No. Go spray your boys with champagne and I’ll see you after” Nate smiled before kissing you again and skating off, hustling to get back into the celebrations.

#nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #dad au #colorado avalanche #hockey writing #hockey fic #nhl players #nhl fanfiction

[diningchairs]

look at this beautiful boy

#perfect timing bc i’m writing a ross/woody fic #HE’S SO FKSBEJDHEJW #i’ve been waiting SO LONG FOR THE CALE & ROSS DAD JOKE VIDEO!!!!! #ross colton #colorado avalanche #mine #avs

[senditcolton]

Talk

a/n: i actually really love writing for EJ. so here’s some more of him! sort of a prequel to this blurb from my last birthday celebration. hope you all love sunshine/golden retriever EJ.  word count: 1.5k warnings: dirty talk + implied smut (basically the proposition of the act but not the act itself). feminine reader this time!

I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things I would do.

“Looking good, sweetheart.”

You hear EJ before you see him and your shoulders heave in a sigh as you cast an exasperated glance in Nate’s direction. You knew he was going to be here; it was Colorado’s charity brunch after all so of course the entire team was in attendance. But still, that didn’t mean that you had to interact with EJ.

At least, not right now.

So, you sigh again before spinning around in your chair, your eyes darting up to his face. And to your unfortunate surprise, he looked hot; in his casual suit, the top few buttons tastefully undone, his blonde hair artfully ruffled.

“Thank you, EJ,” you say, your voice dry, not at all willing to let him or anyone else sitting at your table know how much this man managed to fluster you.

You think that your forced politeness would be the end of it as you turn back to continue the conversation that you were having with Nate, your friend who was responsible for bringing you here. But you should’ve known that Erik wasn’t going to give up that easily and your body bristles when you feel him settle into the chair next to you, his voice sounding again.

“Woah, being nice to me? That’s a surprise,” he laughs. You roll your eyes in Nate’s direction, an action that was met with a scolding glance from your best friend, silently telling you to behave. Which you always do. EJ just never made it easy for you.

You turn back towards Erik, finally giving him your full attention and plaster on a smile before responding.

“We’re at a charity event. I gotta be on my best behavior.”

EJ doesn’t give you a verbal response at first, just shoots you that ridiculously goofy grin. The two of you back off each other for a moment, turning your attention to the delicious food in front of your and the conversation surrounding you. However, the peace only lasts a minute until you feel Erik lean over towards you, his voice quiet.

“I prefer you on your worst behavior.”

The way his voice drips with desire and passion makes you falter, almost dropping your fork. The glare you send in his direction does not discourage him. In fact, judging by that stupid smirk that remains on his face, it seems as if he actually enjoys it.

Which, after spending a few too many nights tangled in his sheets and in his arms, you know that was the truth.

Yes, you were sleeping with Erik. What started as an accident turned into a full-blown habit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Somehow, this obnoxious golden retriever of a man snuck his way into your life and it was now hard to shake him off.

Although, the two of you did promise that you would keep your ‘status’ quiet in front of your friends and the rest of the team. But here was EJ, flirting with you at a team sponsored event.

You swear you could throttle him.

In an attempt to settle your skipping heartbeat and ground yourself to the present moment, you turn your head, cracking your neck as you brush off his words, not wanting to encourage him anymore. Erik doesn’t take the hint and it isn’t long until you feel a strong hand land on your thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin through the fabric of your dress.

“I love how this dress looks on you,” Erik whispers again, his fingers caressing the silk. “I think I’d like it better if it was on my bedroom floor.”

You once again stiffen in your chair and glance around, eyes jumping between the others sitting at your table. Thankfully, they are distracted by their own conversations that no one has seemed to notice how close Erik has gotten to you. You are grateful for their ignorance, not only for the proximity of your bodies but also the undeniable rise that EJ’s words pull out of you.

“I wish I woke up with you in my arms this morning. We could’ve snuck in a quick fuck before we had to come here,” Erik continues, his hand moving higher on your thigh, calloused fingers dragging the soft material of your dress up.

“Or maybe we would’ve made up an excuse not to come so I could have spent all morning with my head between your thighs. You taste sweeter than anything on this table.”

There is no stopping the pounding of your heart and the rush of heat that pools as Erik’s hand slips underneath your skirt, his warm hands finally coming into contact with the soft skin of your inner thighs, lightly gripping the flesh as his hand continues to sneak closer to your aching core.

“Do you like the sound of that?” he questions, no doubt in response to the heat he can feel radiating from your center. “What if I just took you here, in front of all our friends? Let them know how weak you get for me. How loud you moan for me.”

You force yourself to suppress the full body shudder that runs through your body as Erik’s fingers just barely caress the edge of your underwear. Your thighs instinctively widen to give him more access and you hear the small chuckle that rumbles from him – a sound that you immediately want to smack out of him. He shouldn’t get the satisfaction of pulling this reaction from you.

Two can play at this game.

“You know I love hearing you,” EJ states, his fingers moving again to brush against the front of your core. “But you think you can stay silent for me now?”

Without thinking, one of your hands fly down to grip his wrist, halting his movements and lightly pushing him away from you, his hand retreating to rest on your upper thigh. You look over to him and when your eyes connect to his, you can see the question in his eyes and a twinge of guilt. The worry that he might have taken things too far is painted in his expression but you are quick to silence those fears with a mischievous grin of your own.

There was no hesitation from you when your other hand falls from the tabletop to land on his thigh, squeezing the strong muscle there and your smirk just widens when you hear the small gasp on EJ’s lips.

“Can you?” you ask, hand trailing up, following a very similar path as the one that Erik traced up your own thigh. “Don’t lie to me EJ. You try to act all suave and smooth but really, you just want me to drop to my knees in front of you.”

You can feel his grip on your own thigh tighten as your hand creeps up over the soft material of his dress pants. It isn’t long until your fingertips reach out to barely trace the side of his cock, half hard from both his teasing and yours.

“Does that turn you on baby? The idea of me looking up at you from the pretty tiled floor. You know it would be one way to keep me quiet. But if we were in that position, I don’t think I’d be the one who would struggle staying silent.”

Your words are almost instantly proven as you get bolder and place your hand over his bulge, softly palming him underneath the tablecloth and you smirk as you watch Erik disguise a moan as a cough, reaching out to take a drink of his water. You giggle, your own hand withdrawing to mirror his, resting heavy on the top of his upper thigh.

“Shall we see? Make it a contest? See which one of us can keep their composure at this beautiful charity event while we do the most sinful things in the bathroom?”

The proposal lingers there for a moment before the words truly register with EJ, his head whipping to face you and you can’t stop the genuine laugh that falls from your lips at the eagerness shining in his eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“Only if you are.”

You watch as Erik’s eyes register the sincerity in your words and those beautiful grey irises dart from your own down to your lips and back again.

“God, I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers and you can’t stop your heart from softening at his gentle declaration. It is short-live though as the smile on your face twists again, returning to that playful smirk.

“Men’s room. 10 minutes. Then you can kiss me all you want.”  

EJ’s only response is another firm squeeze on your thigh before he is practically bounding out of his seat and you once again have to swallow a giggle at his obvious excitement. Your eyes follow his trek to the back hallway where the bathrooms were located.

You shake your head slightly, taking another drink and reorienting yourself to your surroundings. You make small talk with some of the others at the table before you are politely excusing yourself, your own desire rushing through your body as you follow Erik’s path.

This was a shit idea.

Didn’t stop you from wanting it though.

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