#there’s almost as many fics for it as EJ fics too

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello how are you :3? I was wondering if you could write E.J., Hoodie, and Masky with a s/o that has a lot of scars? (Toby too but platonic for him) I’m not sure how many people we can request so if it’s too many just Hoodie? I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and thank you!

Various!Creepypastas w/ a scarred!reader

waaaah im so sorry for not seeing this sooner! i didnt recieve a notification for this ask!! really theres no limit to how many characters you can send in! i think my personal max varies from prompt to prompt!! mix of how they approach the concept of a scarred lover (friend in tobys case) with some hints of fluff! cause of scars will be vague as admittedly i didnt know if you meant general scars or SH! side note i hope this posts right! im writing this on my computer, im used to mobile!! + apologies for any weird wording or typos, im listening to music and im getting hyped!! not proof read we die like my spiderverse brainrot

Includes: Eyeless Jack, Hoodie, Masky and Platonic!Toby!

CWs: touch and go talk of potential past trauma, body image issues, vague mentions of SH(?) in EJs part + Toby's parts

admittedly admin doesnt know if its technically SH due to the nature and motiv but personally id still count it as such and tag it as such

Eyeless Jack;

he gets it, he really does. the basic run down of my hc/take on ej is that he wasnt always some flesh eating monster; just some dude who got caught up in some bad stuff

so naturally, he doesnt... really vibe well with the concept of eating human flesh, which can lead to a few... instances. from intentionally to accidentally harming himself while hes lost in his instincts

so hes no stranger to being a little roughed up around the edges

but hes a stranger to comforting; he'll likely approach it from a logical side before trying anything else. "you've been hurt," before going on a small tangent about the formation of scars. hes not the most... emotionally... good... available... person

so youre going to need to lay out the general basis for what you need for basic comfort, on days where your scars become an issue; be is needing comfort or a distraction. it may take him a while, but hell eventually start to pick up on cues and hints as your relationship develops

otherwise hes very neutral about them, again approaching them with a blunt view; seeing it as neither good nor bad. he doesnt draw attention to them, but he doesnt act like theyre gross

really just. vibing with it, doesnt make a huge deal of it since he feels he doesnt have any place to judge, nor does he feel its his business to pry for information

solid 6/10 imo, hell comfort you if you express that you need it but hell likely not go out of his way to do it

Hoodie;

Soft touches, he almost does it before he has your permission to touch you

naturally he has his own fair share of scars from various.. activities

really im still all jumbled up with how i wanna write him and masky; not sure if i want to make them like how they are in their MH source or lean into the proxy thing that was prominent in the early days of the fandom... lowkey leaning into the proxy thing for this post because im more... versed..? in that, but anyhow

hes more upfront and compassionate than eyeless jack, in fact hes probably the most caring out of the four in todays post... maybe thats because i read one (1) fic years back that changed my entire approach to his character but! yeah

subconsciously trails his hands on them when the two of you are holding one another; something gentle and intimate, not too obnoxious to make you self conscious, but not careful enough to go unnoticed

i view hoodie, and by extension brian if i end up considering him and tim fully seperate from their 'proxy' parts, as a very tactile person

true to the popular fanon interpretation, hoodie doesnt speak much. but that only makes him a better listener, so on days where things get hard, hell let you talk his ears off with anything thats bothering you. very rarely, hell speak up and offer some words of advice, most times hell inch closer to grasp you. though it does get awkward since most the time hes just. blankly staring at you silently without emoting or saying a word

overall? personally hes a 7/10 for me, i would rank him higher if he were more verbal, but thats just because admin has an easier time venting if its a two way convo; but overall hell make sure that your scars dont effect your worth

Masky;

very similarly to hoodie, masky also has his own set of scars for the same reasons

he probably starts pointing out his own scars to you and mumbles about where they came from if he knows their origins

this doesnt mean "oh hes invalidating your experiences and hes trying to make it about himself," but more so "hes showing that he really does get it and he doesnt mean to talk over you"

much like EJ he approaches scars with a very blunt and upfront mindset, but to a lesser extent. he admits that whatever led up to the tissue forming, it hurt. emotionally and physically, and hes not going to deny that simple fact. hell listen to you, have a conversation with you about it, and try to help you through whatever you may be currently going through regardless of if youre injury is relevant.

or at least, thats what hes trying to do.

hes still has his own personal issues regarding going about his own problems in a healthy manner but hey thats something for another post; maybe, if i remember

honestly this post doesnt have enough fluff imo, and i can kinda see masky doing this, but imagine he boops his mask against your scars in a mockery of a kiss (doesnt take off his mask often, in fact youll probably never ever see him without it on), i can see jack doing this too tbh

thoughts? 8/10, gets the bonus points for being less awkward to rant to imo, plus i think asides ej, i think i have a bias for masky for the simple fact i had the fattest crush on him when i was in middle school

Toby;

okay! this one is going to be interesting for one main reason! i actually havent touched tobys character in YEARS! so hes probably going to have the shorter list... obligatory i havent built any solid hcs for him past what was going on in the fandom in the 2010s, before toby briefly became a mild discomfort... but we're back in business baby!! (^^ dont feel bad for requesting for toby btw! hes no longer a discomfort, and if i didnt want to write for him i wouldnt be including him right here!!)

obviously we cant talk about his part without talking about his cheek. and other, similar hcs. while i dont think most of the self inflicted marks on his body were from a place of.. for lack of better words, darkness; it doesnt change the fact he still has them. i think a lot of them are from the fact he cant feel anything; accidental burns, gnawing through his cheek, digging his fingers deep into himself. really i could go into detail, but due to the aforementioned fact that my take on him isnt as developed as other characters + i really dont think its appropriate for this post (or really, anywhere on this account,), ill stop there

while he cant relate to the physical pain of what caused your scars, he can sympathize through your feelings. do you feel sorrow, or anger to whoever hurt you? hell be getting worked up right with you, because to him youre one of his closest friends

i feel like he doesnt talk much about his past, regarding his family. but hed tell you, and you can sure as hell bet that hell do his absolute damndest to grant you the same feeling of security.

hell probably touch and prod without truly meaning any harm, but thats because he can have problems with boundaries, but hell listen if you sit him down and tell him it makes you uncomfortable if it does

more so emotional than outwardly... supportive? idk the words, but hes very empathetic with you and tries to relate to you through emotion rather than feeling what you felt. honestly? kinda based for that, but maybe thats because i dont see feelings about this topic being touched on, usually its straight up about how the scar makes the person look or the physical trauma they had gone through, but idk, maybe thats just a me thing

he can be an asshole at times but hell usually backtrack and cool off somewhere else if you call him out on it imo

not sure if its because as im LITERALLY investigating his characteristics and interpretations as we speak, but i think im starting to relate to him so ER-OH!

anyways, i wish i could make his segment more... in tune with the characters above but its probably going to take me a while until im comfortable with how i portray this dude, which sucks because as a kid he was probably one of my favorites

i dont think im going to give toby a rating like the others; since i dont think i can accurate rate him due to the lack of proper concrete ideas outside of him being empathetic to your emotional pain since he cant relate on how much it hurt

im gonna end this here since im starting to sound like a broken record on tobys part so!

i hope you enjoyed this! characterization may be a little off but i blame that mostly on the fact that i kinda fell out of the loop in regards for writing for these guys (that damn spider movie! the brainrot threw me off my creepypasta grind!/j) but its good to be back writing for this fandom! it was a fun little brain exercise trying to figure out each character goes about this kind of thing without making them all the same!! with that being said, im going to go listen to an audio reading of tobys story so i can regrounded in his character and hopefully do him some justice in the future!

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #eyeless jack x reader #hoodie x reader #masky x reader #ticci toby x reader #eyeless jack x you #hoodie x you #masky x you #ticci toby x you

[misojunnie]

I love your &team fics 😭 we need more people to realise how fucking amazing they are.

Could you perhaps write a boyfriend!Yuma fic where he gets jealous that you are spending too much time with another member?

✧ jealousy, jealousy - nym.

# genre: jealous bf!yuma x reader

#warnings: jealousy, basically everything in the rq

#word count: 1.3k

★。＼｜／。★

If looks could kill, Nicholas would be a dead man right about now.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the murder of an innocent. He knew exactly what he was doing when he put his arm around you while you were laughing, hiding a smirk under his virtuous smile. He knew you were Yuma’s girlfriend, and he did it anyway. Because who could resist your charming laughter and kind eyes?

You had been spending entirely too much time with Nicholas, according to Yuma. He had been whisking you away to ice skate under the guise that Jo canceled on him, playing video games with you and play-fighting when he lost, even bringing treats to your classes, saying he accidentally bought too many and needed something to do with the leftovers.

Yuma was just about ready to kill him.

Typically, your boyfriend wasn’t an overtly jealous man. He was protective when need be; for reference, when some guy was hitting on you too aggressively at a bar, or when his friends got a little too touchy. This incident fell into the latter category.

Today was yet another one of those days. Nicholas and you were sitting on the couch, watching Gilmore Girls with rapt attention. Nicholas was staring at the screen, eyes wide as he chewed on popcorn, engrossed in the show. It was times like this that Yuma wondered if he was doing this to get under his skin, or if he genuinely just enjoyed your company. He couldn’t decide which option he disliked more.

“Mind if I join?” Yuma asked smoothly, walking over and asserting himself in the remaining seat. You and Nicholas had taken the loveseat, forcing him into the single chair. The ludicracy of the situation made his blood boil.

“Yuma!” you said excitedly, blowing him a kiss from the couch. “Hi babe, I didn’t realize you were home yet.” Yuma had been home for almost half an hour. He couldn’t even express how betrayed he felt. He strode over to you, pressing a kiss to your lips before moving back to his humiliating seat.

“Mhm, I got off work early.” he said, making sure to glare fiercely in Nicholas’ direction. The boy didn’t even notice, his eyes still on the television.

“That reminds me,” Nicholas finally spoke up, turning to make conversation with you and —purposefully or not, we’ll never know— excluding Yuma. “EJ told me that Jake’s throwing a party tonight downtown. You wanna come? You never know, it might be fun.” Yuma cleared his throat quite obviously, and Nicholas turned to him with a vacant expression. “Oh, you too Yuma. The more the merrier.”

“I’d love to go.” you said with a smile, and Yuma inwardly rolled his eyes at your naivete. Couldn’t you see? It was so obvious that Nicholas was into you, that he was trying to take you away, take away something that was Yuma’s.

“I’ll come along.” Yuma said stoically, crossing his arms over his chest. Nicholas seemed a little miffed, but Yuma couldn’t care less.

There was no way you were going to that party without him.

★。＼｜／。★

If Yuma wasn’t sure that Nicholas was gunning for you before, he was sure now. You were both on the dance floor, grooving to the beat of some late 90’s song that Yuma had never heard before. The two of you seemed to be digging it though, swaying to the beat as you danced with your arms above your head, Nicholas’ hands coming dangerously near your waist.

Yuma could kill a man. Specifically, his best friend.

The second Nicholas’ hand touched your shoulder, Yuma had had enough. He stood up from the makeshift bar, striding quickly to the dance floor and grabbing your wrist, his grip tight and nearly painful against your soft skin. You complained as he pulled you away, jaw set and eyes narrowed as he strode upstairs and directly into a guest room. It didn’t escape your notice that he locked the door behind you.

“Babe, what’s going on?” you said, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “I was having fun dancing.”

“Seemed like you were having a lot of fun, yeah. You like dancing with Nicholas?” Yuma said, raising his brows. You instantly knew what this was all about, sighing.

“It’s not like that, Yuma.”

“Isn’t it?” he said, and you didn’t reply, just staring at him as you sat on the bed, making yourself comfortable. This was going to be a long chat. He towered over you as he remained standing, positioning himself in front of you with his arms crossed. “Do you like him more than me?” he said after a beat, and you scoffed.

“Yuma, of course not. You’re my boyfriend. Not Nicholas.”

“Not yet.” he said pettily, and you stood, caressing his cheek softly. “Next thing I know, he’ll be showing up to our doorstep with flowers. Then he’ll whisk you away for picnic dates and you’ll be bar hopping across Shinjuku for the rest of your days.” You almost laughed at the ludicracy of the statement.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” you cooed, and he rolled his eyes at your sickeningly sweet, almost pitying, tone. “Gosh, you get so mean when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” he replied, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. “But you’ve been spending way too much time with him lately.”

“Nicholas is my friend, baby. Nothing more.”

“You should see the way he looks at you. Like he wants to eat you up.” You giggle at that, trying to imagine it.

“That’s so stupid.”

“It’s true. I should know, I look at you the same way.” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, taking his hands into yours. He couldn’t resist you when you gave him those puppy dog eyes, all eager and innocent. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“C’mon babe. Let’s go back out there.”

“Not a chance. If I see you with Nicholas for one more second, I might kill him.” you chuckled softly, and Yuma’s hardened expression yielded for a moment.

“Alright, then let’s get out of here and get some katsu on the way home, hm? We can go to that one place you really like. Just the two of us.” His face brightened immediately, and you smiled at his endearing expression.

“You mean it?” he asked, and you nodded. “Thank god. I’ve been getting tired of drinking alone all night.”

“Very funny.” you quipped as he took your hand with a snaggle toothed smile, pulling you out of the bedroom and quickly downstairs. The two of you giggled as you dashed to the front door.

“Hey, are you guys leaving?” Nicholas called after the two of you, emerging from the throngs of dancing people, his platinum hair mussed and matted to his forehead.

“Getting katsu!” you yelled back, waving with a smile. “Alone.” Yuma added as you pulled him through the door, flashing a smug smile in his friend’s direction as the two of you disappeared into the night.

Later, the two of you huddled together for warmth as you munched on katsudon, the night fog creeping along the streets as you laughed together. 

“I’m happy we left, actually.” you said, your cheek puffing out from your efforts at chewing. Yuma watched you with silent adoration. “I was getting kinda sweaty from dancing, and Jo didn’t even show up.”

“I’m glad we left too. I’d much rather be eating katsudon with you than partying.” he agreed, and you grinned widely.

“Aw. That’s cute.” Yuma leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your lips, but was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of his phone.

Nico: I wasn’t hitting on your girlfriend, dude.  Stop being weird. Nico: She’s just really nice >:/

★。＼｜／。★

a/n: omg this was so cute i rlly enjoyed writing this one :( loved this prompt plus I love yuma sm </3 I'm still working on finishing all the requests, so plz be patient!!! ty lovelies for reading!

#ミ☆ #misojunnie #&team #&team yuma #&team fanfic #&team ff #&team fanfiction #&team fluff #&team imagines #&team scenarios #&team oneshots #&team crack #&team smau #&team nicholas #&team angst #yuma fanfic #yuma ff #yuma fluff #yuma imagines #yuma scenarios #anon asks

[matthewtkachuk]

monday morning - nathan mackinnon

the boys win the Stanley Cup and you end up in bed with one of them

pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of sex (not quite explicit but more than implied - yk my brand by now), sex that takes place after both parties have been drinking (if this is a trigger feel free to skip! take care of yourselves my loves)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: hey besties long time no see, hope yall are doing well. one week ago, the colorado avalanche won the stanley cup and you know a bitch couldn't resist a post-win fic <3 s/o to @antoineroussel for being the only one awake and telling me when i'm being pretentious

Monday morning you wake with the feeling of cotton balls stuffed down your throat and a heavy body weighing you down into the mattress. For a moment you can’t quite figure out where you are or how you got here—it’s quite difficult to make sense of anything as you burrow your head back deeper into the pillows and keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Wiggling your toes, you assess the damage, but it’s almost impossible to move under the weight on top of you. Said weight starts to shift a little in its slumber you assume, and that’s when you come to realize whoever is on top of you is one, naked, and two, very very heavy. One of his wandering hands slides from its place by your side up to rest on the underside of your boob and that’s when you realize a third thing—you’re naked too. 

The night before comes back to you in bits and pieces—the longest five minutes of your life at the end of the third period, someone screeching in your ear at the final buzzer, placing your hands on the ever elusive lord stanley and then drinking shitty beer out of it with the half naked team who’d won it half an hour before. Linking arms with some of the better halves and stumbling out of a hostile arena into an even more hostile city, and yet finding a club/bar more than willing to take your—well, not yours specifically—”dirty” money. 

Shots and then more shots and then more shots. If you think hard enough, you vaguely remember doing a body shot off André. Somebody pressing a water into your hands and you pretending to take a large slip before leaving it on the closest bar top when they turned around. Sliding in real close into… someone’s embrace shortly after and then staying there for the rest of the night. You can picture their muscled shoulders and feel the heat of their calloused hands and yet their face remains beneath a dark cloud in your mind. 

“You wanna go back to mine?” whispered in your ear and wandering hands and giggles turned whines turned moans turned toes curling and nails dragging down backs. Chapped lips and a bearded face and praise shared like an oath. 

But who? 

You’re afraid to open your eyes, afraid to face whoever is in your bed or maybe whose bed you’re in, afraid you won’t like who you find or afraid you will and they won’t want you too in the fresh morning light. You know it’s a hotel room—or at least you’re pretty sure it’s a hotel room based on the feel of the sheets beneath you and the too fluffy pillow that’s got your neck at an uncomfortable angle. 

If you had it your way you’d never find out whose hotel room it is, but ultimately you don’t have much of a choice. Not when the mysterious not-quite-stranger presses a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck before rolling off of you with a groan.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he says, punctuated by a small exhale of breath that can only be indicative of disbelief. 

The feeling of your chest constricting is timed perfectly with the way the rest of the night flashes by—EJ leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek, Mel crying into your shoulder, one too many Jägerbombs.

And then Nate. 

Nate lifting you into his arms on the ice and shouting about how they finally fuckin’ did it, Nate’s everlasting eye contact as he tips the Stanley Cup so that the alcohol falls into your awaiting mouth, Nate’s front pressed to your back on the dance floor, Nate’s arms feeling like home when you didn’t know which direction was left and which direction was right. Nate leading you to his hotel room, fingers brushing the 1787 numberplate before turning their attention on you. 

Stumbling into Nate and kissing him and running your fingers through his hair and along the beard on his jawline—”this is so sexy”—getting your hands on him and pressing and pulling and prodding until his naked body covered yours on the neatly made bed. You’d teased him for it, asked him if it was a superstition or just his good manners that had him making the bed on the most important morning of his hockey career yet. He’d only kissed you quiet. 

And then a moment of clarity in the drunken, lust-fuelled haze where he’d pushed back the hair from your face and asked if you were sure. When you’d told him you’d never wanted anything more, he’d told you without shame that it was a tie between you and the cup, and he’d ‘already won the cup tonight.’

It sends tingles down your spine to remember the way he looked at you last night. A look you’d previously seen hours earlier, looking around at the boys after the final buzzer, and then pushing his captain towards it only to hold it minutes later. Like you were the Stanley Cup, like you were the culmination of two and a half decades of hard work and perseverance and overcoming adversity, like you were the thing he’d spent his entire life waiting for.

“The cup and the girl...fuck am I ever lucky,” he speaks again before pulling you so that you lay half on top of him this time. You finally open your eyes to see that very same look still on his face. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” you say, suddenly very shy and wanting to disappear into the covers. You push down the urge to run for the nearest hill, tentatively placing your hand on his chest above his heart. When he covers it with his own you find the courage to speak again. “How did you sleep?” 

“I think I’m still drunk,” he admits with a laugh, “but I’ve never slept better.” 

“Better than Landy?” you ask. “Bet he slept naked in EJ’s hotel room with the cup between them.” 

Nate laughs out loud at that and you preen under the sound. “We’ll get our turn to sleep naked with the cup.” 

“We?” you ask hopefully, tentatively. Despite the look in his eye and the fact that he has yet to let you go, you’re not the kind of girl who makes assumptions or gets her hopes up. In fact, you’re the very opposite—more likely to assume the worst in any situation, and you in fact do so now. 

“I think I made myself pretty clear last night,” he smirks and you remember the gentle way he regarded you during sex. “I’m not a man of many words, we both know that. But you have to know how I feel about you.” 

His hand cups your face and his thumb gently skims your cheekbone before your lips are pressed together.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

#nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon imagines #shelb writes

[selkiefinalist]

🛳️ A fic that brought you aboard a new ship

and/or

😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

also your list of re-read fics--taste. such good ones. crispierchips' nate/ej fics are iconic.

a new ship: listen i don't even know how, probably because of i'll know it at the hook, but i have read through almost the entire zach/willy tag on ao3 and it was worth it, some really good authors in there (carissima looking at you)

fic that ripped my heart out: GOD so many, but i'm going to go with the real thing (sid/geno) because it uniquely messed me up, one of the fics i had to read backwards (i actually do this if a fic is too stressful to me) and also forever too much to take (beniers/brisson) which i also had to read backwards because it hurt my feelings too much to read it the typical way

#replies #hockey rpf #fic rec #LISTEN #i'm about to start this fic for you and the STRESS i feel about meeting your expectations #highly motivational!!

[mimmosa]

Nuevo Verano

 

la luna se refleja en mis uñas mordidas

todas las estrellas están juntas en mi bebida

la guitarra suena un poco mal

pero no importa porque es verano

y además últimamente estoy hablando

me gusta hablar contigo

 

the moon reflects on my bitten nails

all of the stars are together in my drink

the guitar sounds a bit out of tune

but it doesn’t matter because it’s summer

and besides, lately I’ve been talking

 I like talking to you

 

 

 

 

In truth, Gina had been harboring these feelings for almost a month and a half now.  The whole Ricky fiasco and almost leaving but then not quite had left her feeling a little emotionally drained, so she was ready to just give her mind a break and avoid any kind of strong feelings for a while. The thing about her feelings for EJ though, was that she hadn’t been able to dodge them because she hadn’t seen them coming until she was already in too deep. His way of showing up, even at the beginning when it was just a friendly acquaintance at best, had quietly grown on her until it had nestled deep within her.

 

So here she was again, afraid to put herself out there a second time after she swore off feeling this kind of way ever again, or at least until much much later. It didn’t matter that everyone could see – and some had even told her in words – that EJ was as much if not more enamored with her, for now Gina was content to just keep enjoying this kind of friendly flirty banter with the senior.

 

School had finished and they were all getting ready for the summer. Gina was especially excited as it was the first summer in years she was staying in the same place with her friends, so even if it was for that, this summer already held lots of promises for her.

 

They’d already started off the break with a party hosted by Ashlyn – no surprise there. She’d helped decorate the backyard with the string lights and set out a couple of tables with bowls of any and all kind of food plus some chairs strewn around the garden.

She’d hung out with Carlos, Seb and then with EJ for most of then night, soda in a disposable cup and just enjoying a party at the end of the school year that, for once, didn’t mean goodbye.

 

At the end of it all, in a quite unexpected turn of events, EJ had picked the guitar to strum a semblance of a tune, the guitar very much out of tune but it didn’t matter, because it was fun, and because the way EJ eyes shone when he looked at her made all the stars in the night dim out.

 

esta noche estoy contenta pero poco, no mucho

aunque hable contigo no consigo verte nunca y

mis amigos me quieren matar

pero supongo que me da igual

y además últimamente estoy hablando

hablando con todo el mundo

me gusta el mundo

 

 

 

EJ’s dad has been breathing down his neck and going on and on about how he needs to make a decision about his future, as if he hasn’t already decided he’s going to University of Utah, the one he actually got in on his own, where he’s going to take up different classes to discover what he’s actually passionate about, even though she might already have an idea, because she knows him. Gina has witnessed how much EJ has struggled with this decision and coming to terms with his new reality, how the pressure has almost made him crumble and how he still has almost no confidence in his capability outside of his father’s expectations. Both her and Ashlyn have been by his side all these months to remind him that he’s so much more than what anybody expects of his future, and that his value is not measured by any of it. It’s still an ongoing journey, but these days she can see a bit of the burden lifting from his shoulders, and she’s so proud that he’s made this decision on his own. She’s also secretly glad that she has him near for another year.

first of all, song title and lyrics by amaia romero, i don’t own anything

second of all this is kind of a oneshot song fic in progress but it’s just me testing waters bc i prefer reading to writing fics but there aren’t many new ones so idk i just have some songs that i would love for them to be turned into a songfic, so i might just try giving it a go. this one has kind of a rough outline done, but as i said, not much of a writer so it might just stay here as a drafty tumblr post or i might finish it

#portwell #portwell fanfiction

[jaegerbroshoe]

Guys...there’s Among Us smut. I’m dying.

#what the fuck even 😂 #there’s almost as many fics for it as EJ fics too #that’s just sad #misc #random thoughts #my opinion

[hargrove-mayfields]

There are expectations for a town like Hawkins when it comes to Christmas. Anywhere and everywhere it could be, it was plastered that this was a time for family and faith, that’s what Steve had always been taught anyways, but, seeing as his family is nowhere in sight, living it up over at their vacation home where it’s still sunny and warm, and the fact that he lost whatever was left of his trust in the divine the moment a six foot faceless monster dropped out of the ceiling with intent to kill him, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

So, those small town boy holiday traditions really don’t last much longer in the Harrington household after that. And with the way last Christmas went, for the first time in years spending that time of year with someone he genuinely cared about, only to realize in retrospect it hadn’t been a mutual love and cheeriness, Steve isn’t sure he cares that he’s not really in the festive spirit, whatever that even means to him anymore.

On top of that, Steve just doesn’t have a way to get into it. He doesn’t decorate as much as he used to; something about having all those lights in his house, the way they used to wrap around the banister and frame the huge wreath about the mantelpiece, it just makes him paranoid now. No sense of wonder filled nostalgia and warmth in his chest, instead just waiting for the moment they start to flash and signal something coming after him. A festive beacon signaling his location across dimensions, no fucking thank you.

He realizes by the third week of December, see about four days before Christmas, that his apathy had bled into the rest of his traditions too, altogether forgetting to bake all the cookies he’d inevitably eat all by himself anyways, write cards to family members who probably only trashed the envelope without opening it, or buy anybody at all presents, like there was anyone to gift them to. Steve can’t stop himself from this depressing spiral either, every last idea of mirrored baubles and other delights shot down in a heartbeat with a negative twice as strong.

Hell, he even forgot to fish out the old bayberry candles from the attic, that’s enough on its own to make him worry, at least a little. Ruthie Harrington always told him if there was any one tradition he couldn’t give up, it was the bayberry, and every year he’d light that thing and watch it like a hawk to make sure it burned down to the base before Christmas day. He’s going to hell for sure for not lighting that damned candle.

He’d call himself the Grinch, but that’d still be just a little too on brand for the season he couldn’t fit himself into after everything.

Maybe Christmas Eve service will be enough to undo the damning of his soul, or maybe it won’t, Steve doesn’t really give a shit at this point. Chalk it up to seasonal depression and all that, or maybe settle to blame it on all that’s happened in the last year, it’s doesn’t matter the cause, because he decides to go regardless, if not just because he’d failed at achieving literally everything else he had on his to do list for the season.

It makes it kind of pointless to go, being that Steve is only doing it as a last resort, and long ago gave up the belief system required to step foot in the place, but his other option is to be all alone on Christmas Eve, in a house without even a tree up or anything other than another dragging on day in the morning. He’d at least rather feel like he was being judged by old church bitties than feel the crushing weight of having nothing.

He’s already late, like, the old people have stopped bullshitting and the service had actually started late, when he finally musters the courage to get out of his car, so likewise Steve is forced to sit at the very back of the church. Not a bad deal for someone who guilt-tripped his own sorry self into coming in the first place, but the problem he has with the situation is the company.

See, most of the church is full of families, people grouped together taking up every last empty spot and rubbing it in just how lonely Steve is this year, but what that means in the last few rows are scattered with loners like him, still full except for one, seated on which is the very last person he’d like to make company with.

Billy Hargrove’s taking up a whole pew for himself, slouched down and his legs spread, like he doesn’t want to be seen. Knowing Hargrove the way Steve does, he assumes that’s exactly the case. That the asshole got dragged along by his family to church, because what poser punker douchebag is there by his own free will, celebrating the community he made it a point to terrorize since day one of being in Hawkins, on top of that worshipping a figurehead who definitely wouldn’t have created such a dick and sent him down to bother Steve if he was really up there.

Maybe he’s projecting a little, but all the same, the only seat left in the place that means not sitting by some snot-nosed kids or lonely old people, is right next to Hargrove. Maybe if he had any pride left he’d turn and walk out the door, but he’s only here because he’s already at rock bottom. Might as well spend the holiday with someone who’s probably going to kick his ass again for being a bother.

But Hargrove doesn’t even look at him when he sits next to him, his head is tipped back against the seat and there are sunglasses perched on his nose, despite it being dark out already and a dreary winter day when there was no sun anyways, the only indication he even noticed Steve’s presence being him moving his leg away so he and Steve aren’t making contact.

Steve’s not going to act like he suddenly likes the guy, but he can tell something is up with him, so he asks, pretty bluntly, “What’s a guy like you doing passed out drunk in a church, Hargrove?”

Billy’s face shifts slowly into a half-assed smirk, looking mostly like he’s in pain from forcing the expression, “Why, you want in on it?”

“Honestly, it wouldn’t suck as much if I had a drink first.” Steve shrugs, trying against every instinct in his body to be civil with Billy. It’s not like the other boy is much of a threat the way he’s slumped down and broken looking anyways.

Billy calls him on his assumed hypocrisy anyways, hardly even looking in his direction though, “You came in here alone. You wanna be here, Harrington. Don’t act like you’re like me.”

Arguing back with those assumptions, Steve insists, mostly because the nerve of Billy to assume his situation insults him, “Well I don’t see your family around.”

“‘Cause they're too embarrassed to be seen with me after I beat your sorry ass. Ruined a reputation that didn’t even exist yet. They're up at the front, putting on their happy family routine to make up for it.” His explanation would imply that it’s nothing to him, just a mild inconvenience no larger than their own dispute, but his demeanor suddenly makes a lot more sense to Steve.

Steve’s definitely chastened, reluctant as his heart tells him to be in trusting Billy’s story, “Oh. Couldn’t you have just stayed home then?”

“No way. And get up to more trouble while the rest of my family has to pull the weight of our publicity. Yeah right.” Finally Billy sits up a little straighter, if only to mumble, mostly to himself more than for Steve to hear, “That’d only get my ass beat worse, even if I didn’t do shit.”

And really, as much as Steve is never prepared for what spiteful bullshit is about to come tumbling out of Hargrove’s mouth, this is especially surprising. Like, the kind of unexpected that leaves him speechless and just staring at the other boy, trying and failing to think of what it is he should respond with, “You.. didn’t have to tell me all that.”

Maybe bitter, or maybe perfectly unbothered in that annoyingly trademark Billy Hargrove way, he meets Steve’s disaster of an attempt at coherency with a simple, “You didn’t have to accuse me of being a drunk either. But the more you run your mouth, the more I feel perfectly justified in giving you that concussion.”

“Never heard of a joke, have you?” Steve tries again, this time hoping he’d gauged Billy’s true reactions with a more harsh approach, thinking he’s on the bullys level now, but clearly that wasn’t the vibe the other was going for.

Billy scoffs, glaring under those tinted glasses on his nose at Steve, “Right. ‘Cause it’s so hilarious, getting to see the new King of the bullshit high school hierarchy at an all time low. You’ve got lots to laugh at Harrington.”

“But I’m not. You think I don’t got my own shit to handle? Think I just wander into church an hour late without my service best on for fun?” If it’s an attempt at repairing the conversation or just to seem less like an ass, it succeeds, because Billy warms  right back up to him, asking with a bee interest in his expression, “So what’s your sin then, Harrington? What’s got you crawling out here and stopping to my level?”

For more reasons than just their location, Steve answers honestly, if not somewhat dramatic, “Incurable loneliness. Being an idiot. Never being good enough. Forgetting to light my goddamned bayberry candle.”

“That bad, huh?” Billy fake winces, the edge bleeding back out of his demeanor into the same Billy, attitude wise anyways, Steve first approached that night. “Look. Do you believe in all this-this savior bullshit?”

Steve shrugs, swallowing the fear of denouncing tradition in favor of impressing Hargrove, “Nope. And if we’re being really honest, I only came here because there’d be food.”

“Exactly. Our problems ain’t gonna be fixed by the big man in the red suit or whatever. You and me Harrington, we gotta take this shit into our own hands.” Billy rambles, looking like he’s about to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder before he changes last minute and rests his arm over the back of the pew.

“And just how are we going to do that?” Steve hums, convinced at this point he’s just amusing a drunken Billy. But the other boy surprises him once more, challenging how convinced Steve is in his perceptions of him, “Step one, let’s just get outta here.”

“Hargrove. Didn’t you like, just say you had to be here though?”

“That was ten minutes ago. I’m a new man now, unrestrained by the confines of a paternal dictatorship keeping me bound to this holy house of worship.”

That doesn’t make it any more obvious to Steve what his intention is, if anything just making him more confused, so, feeling like a jackss, he asks for clarification, a problem that has every bit to do with himself and his expectations, and not so much with Hargrove’s, “What?”

“I said fucking stick it to Neil Hargrove and to God. And let’s go already before we get struck down or something.” Billy stands then, deep enough into whatever speech was going on that only a few turn to glare at the interruption, and Steve realizes he doesn’t have much choice, or desire, to do anything but follow him.

They almost wordlessly end up at Steve’s car, Billy himself having been driven with the rest of his family and having no other way to get home.

It’s still tense between them, this spur of the moment Christmas truce not doing much to ease Steve’s worries, the ones he has left over from the fight anyways, making it even more awkward than it needs to be. Billy, either oblivious to the vibe he was giving off or I care, makes himself right comfortable in Steve’s car, like they’d been best friends all along and this was a perfectly normal thing for the two of them to be doing.

Somehow it simultaneously made Steve want to run and abandon this agreement entirely and wanting to get closer to him, understand the way his head works to make him so sporadic in a way Steve himself could never be.

Back in the topic of Billy though, he’s cranked Steve’s heat all the way up, a sign he’s not taking his first white Christmas that well, his feet and those dirty boots no self-respecting family like Steve’s would ever step foot into a church wearing kicked up on his dashboard, and the sunglasses he wore for no apparent reason finally removed and looped onto the collar of his jacket, revealing a bruise the size of almost the entirety of his left cheekbone.

“You’re not nervous are you?” Steve clarifies again, keeping his question intentionally vague to avoid setting Hargrove off anymore, but hoping to imply that they could both get in trouble with the man they both knew landed that bruise on Billy’s cheek for this. Getting caught wasn’t a question, it was just a matter of what excuse Billy would come up with that wouldn’t get him in more trouble, and hopefully wouldn’t involve Steve.

“Me? Never.” Billy just shrugs him off, though he mutters with more seriousness, perhaps the most he’d heard from him the entire night, “Just hurry up and take me far away from here as possible. I hate this stupid place and I don’t want Neil’s ass dragging me back in there.”

And it’s not like Steve is going to disagree, he’s admittedly had his problems with being lonely,  and he’s got his own reasons for why Hargrove might just be the best company he could make right about now, but he gives him a hard time all the same. He starts his car, remarking, “We were enemies when I walked into that church. Why should I do anything for you?”

“‘Cause we’re both two out of place fuck ups in the very back of the house of God. And we both know you’re too soft to hold a grudge anyways, and since I decided to forgive you, way I see it, we might as well have never met ‘til tonight. Perfect meeting, perfect reason to help out.” Billy explains it, again like he’s fixing himself to be a real genius, but Steve’s skeptical of how easygoing he is.

Like, he’s more than willing to move past the fight, but there’s something that may or may not even have anything to do with Hargrove stopping him from just letting them be close like that. Something Steve is very much aware has, in all actuality, not much to do with Billy himself as much as it does that certain type of way Steve feels when he’s around him.

“Nah, I don’t know man. I think you’d prefer it if my first impression of you wasn’t formed right now.”

“Fucking rude, Harrington.”

“Seriously, Hargrove. You reek like booze and church cologne to cover it. You’ve got a nasty bruise on your face that I can guess is from the same stupid shit that has you so gloomy. You’re a disaster all around.” And maybe Steve was a little harsh, but he's almost offended, by the way everything Billy stands for directly goes against the image of him he’d built in his head. The kid he’s talking to now is nowhere near the same douche that he though was going to kill him, but he isn’t exactly a sweetheart either.

Billy himself isn’t in the least bit offended though, and Steve can tell that’s only because he’s reading him like a book, that smirk that just barely plays at the corner of his mouth, at least the side without any injuries, the dead giveaway, “Well then. What was your first first impression ‘a me like that makes it so special?”

“I don’t know man. You looked intimidating I guess. Glared at everyone in that parking lot like you already owned the place. And you were a thousand times more put together. Before you were just pretending to be all rough, a hoser by definition, but now you’re really a mess.” Steve is rambling again, trying his damndest to not say the part out loud where him and Carol Perkins had been gossiping about how Hargrove’s ass looked in those jeans, his genuine first impression a hell of a lot more confusing and even worse to admire to a bully than the way he sums it up.

“Damn. And here my first impression of you was that you were a prissy little thing just like Wheeler sitting right next to you in your fancy rich boy car. I thought you saw yourself as better than me.” The tone of Billy’s voice sounds almost impressed, actually looking over to Steve in the driver's seat, his face so analytical, so smugly uncalled for. His face just reads pure satisfaction, if it’s selfish or not to be determined by Steve until Billy flat out says, “But no, I get it now. Pretty boy had himself a crush. Still does too.”

“Hold on. I never said anything like that.” Steve denies it outright, because it’s true. He feels a swell of panic in his chest at the thought that he’s too obvious, but mostly at the undetectable tone Billy uses, if that’s accusatory, it it’s hateful, he can’t tell and it fucking scares him.

But Billy’s persistent, “No, you totally did. You know, it’s no wonder you and Wheeler were a thing, but you two are exactly the same. This overly critical, hiding your feelings shtick. Tearing me apart like your first thought wasn’t how fucking hot I am in three layers ‘a denim. I see through all that shit, you know.”

“Where the hell did you even get an idea like that?” Steve acts bigger than he feels, at least he’s good at that, trying to understand if this is a rumor or genuine introspection.

“You think any old meathead’s gonna notice something like this that easy, H? I say I've seen it all, but that’s only because I’ve done it all too.” Billy offers as an answer, leaning towards the latter, but Steve is still skeptical, and he makes it known, “No way. You’re talking about shit that doesn’t happen, Hargrove. Whatever this is, it doesn’t have anything to do with me, alright?”

“What, you want me to sit here and elaborate about all the first impressions I had about each little freckle and eyelash on your dopey face? ‘Cause we’d probably still be here well into the new year If I did.”

“No, I mean it. You’re pulling something on me. Just save it for someone who wants to hear it.”

“I’m not though. Honest to God.” Billy tilts his head back against his seat and laughs at himself, the seriousness of the situation escaping him in the best demonstration of his intention as he says, “Well, I guess two queers running away from Church on Christmas Eve probably shouldn’t swear on the big man, but you get what I’m sayin’, Harrington.”

He really doesn’t get it though. If this was a hate crime or a love confession, Steve wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and it’s fucking confusing. “I.. guess I do?”

“Aw, don’t go gettin’ shy on me now, H.” Billy snickers, finally shifting that piercing gaze away from Steve to the car windows, asking in an unceremonious change of subject, “Where’re you takin’ me anyways?”

“Since you’re laying it on so damn thick all of the sudden, figured I’d just take you back to my place.” Steve all but grumbles, stressed from this conversation, from it being Christmas, from everything else going wrong in his life.

Billy at least can sense that, offering another bit of humor that doesn’t make Steve’s head spin, “Sure. You got a present waitin’ there for me this Christmas?”

Trying to relax back into a normal conversation, Steve shrugs his shoulders, “Dude, I don’t even have a tree up at home. Best I can promise is what you were probably already hopin’ you’d get.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Wrapping paper that important to you? I can figure something out.”

Billy shakes his head, his turn now to look at Steve like he’s lost it, “No. I was just fucking with you about a present. I meant about the tree.”

“Yeah, I didn’t decorate at all. But.. what’s that even matter?” Steve glances over at him, seeing the hurt behind that baffled expression and knowing instantly there’s something more there, another mystery about Billy Hargrove that will remain unsolved, because he turns the attention off of himself as quickly as that expression fades behind a new one of determination.

“Not gonna lie Harrington, I was totally down to blow you and just pretend the serious parts of this conversation never even happened and never speak to each other again, because I kinda thought that was the path we were going down here, but now that I know how deep this goes, I’m invested in this shit way too deep. I gotta fix this mess first.”

“What does that even mean, Billy?”

“Means we’re skipping all that bullshit and we’re gonna light your goddamn candle, H. And do every other thing on your list of failures this year. You know, since you’re totally head over heels in love with me, it’s my job to give you your Merry Christmas.”

Steve rolls his eyes, because it’s a cheesy and lame proclamation to hear coming from Billy’s mouth in the first place, but mostly because it hides how easily flustered he is by it, “Oh come on, Billy.”

“What? You’re having a hard time this year, for obvious fucking reason- did I mention I already hate your parents?”

“Billy.” Steve warns, not ready to sidetrack another topic to talk about something that will only make him depressed, Billy nodding in unspoken understanding and going back to his point, “Fine. All I’m saying is, the point of havin’ someone like me around, is to make shit better. Right?”

“No, it really isn’t, since I seem to remember last time I tried to help you first, you screamed at me that you weren’t a charity case and told me to never bother you again? I can’t let you turn that around now cause you’re doing the same to me for no reason.”

“Sure you can, if you’d just quit bein’ so stubborn. We got lots of shit to get done tonight. No time for self-deprivation.” Billy remarks casually, adding with an over exaggerated wink, “Maybe I’ll even throw in that present I promised ya if you start cheering up already.”

~~~

The Harrington house, for the first Christmas in the last five or so years, did glow brightly that night. Just as Billy promised, they stayed up all night doing everything they wanted to, no imposed rules or familial traditions involved, no triggers of past Christmases that neither were quite ready to share yet on display.

They don’t bother fishing out the huge eight foot synthetic tree Ruthie Harrington insisted on having to show off, the monstrous thing just there to collecting dust in the basement now. They find a smaller one instead, an old white tree Steve used to keep up in his room as a kid, his way of sneaking a nightlight past John Harrington’s strict rules for his boy.

It gets set on a random side table and decorated with only homemade ornaments, Billy “accidentally” dropping a few of the collectors ornaments that used to force Steve’s own childhood creations off that grand tree when his mother would decorate. That was enough for them, without the additional twenty strings of lights in every corner of the house, or the poinsettias and crystal nativities adorning every available surface in the house.

They do light the bayberry, putting it on a fancy dish at the center of the coffee table, not in the fancy sconces for him to have to scrape off the walls later. Billy pretends about a thousand times he’s going to blow it out just to fuck with Steve, earning him equally as many lectures on the bad luck and death and pestilence he’s bringing upon them.

Really that’s the dynamic they have the whole night; Steve flutters around his house an absolute nervous wreck, Billy just tailing after him to remind him that whatever they want to do, it’s just for fun this once, not for appearances or hollow celebrations. Nobody’s coming over to see it anyways but poor Billy Hargrove who gets maybe one present per Christmas and can’t afford any decorations but generations old glassware and blow molds that never need replaced anyways, let alone the electric bill from all those lights strung up outside.

It works eventually, getting him to settle and pick his genuine favorites of the traditions he usually carries out when he hasn’t been in a depression for the entire month. Steve admittedly wasn’t really expecting to solve so many of his troubles in one go, especially not with help from Billy Hargrove, who he thought was supposed to hate him after everything. But Billy just makes it so easy, once Steve got a handle on understanding him, and got to see that gentle side of him when Steve tangled himself up in tinsel in a panic and Billy again had to remind him everything would be fine.

It’s not like Billy is perfectly gentle about it, if that were the case they’d either have to be a lot farther in their relationship than a days worth of flirting and maybe one or two kisses under conveniently placed mistletoes Billy claims to not know the origin of. Because Billy Hargrove is the definition of passive aggressive, and instead of softly telling Steve his mothers Christmas angel or the window wreaths didn’t need a place in their festivities, he’d taken to literally smacking whatever was troubling Steve out of his hands and making him go do something else while it was put away.

In the end they still don’t do a lot of the things Steve normally would, most things really, but he realizes at some point, after baking dozens of cookies at about three in the morning, both of them wearing his mother’s glittery aprons and getting a little big trashed between timers, that this isn’t about all that anyways.

What he and Billy started, this Christmas Eve, was a new tradition, one which didn’t rely on expectations, or keeping up with everything everyone ever asked him to do. All of this was about doing something new, something they hadn’t up to this point been able to call their own for countless unhappy reasons they pledged not to talk about until at least the day after Christmas, seeing no need to dampen the cheer they do find in their own special holiday.

It’s once everything’s sort of wound down, Steve’s head all fuzzy with whatever alcohol Billy had convinced him to put into the generic gallon of eggnog he had about to expire in his fridge, the both of them sitting under their tiny tree for reasons neither can remember, that he asks, mostly as a lighthearted comment he doesn’t really expect an answer to, “So, I guess you’re gonna come over for Christmas every year now, huh?”

Billy looks to him and scrunches his nose up, emphasized by the way his face is flushed pink from having a hell of a lot more than Steve to drink, and he smiles bright and lopsided, the way it looks when he really means it, “Are you kidding me, Steve? I’m coming over here every goddamn day if I can.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej! #merry (almost an hour late) Christmas to everyone who celebrates #sorry for posting this at a weird time I was way too busy with the holiday to get on and post #had so many ideas for a christmas fic but it really snuck up on me so here’s a jumble of them all #I didn’t read it back so as always please pardon any typos or inconsistencies #and thank you all so much for reading! #hope y’all enjoy!! #and if you celebrated I hope your Christmas was good and you can look back on it fondly with an hg ficlet lol

[jostystyles]

the futures better than yesterday | tj

a/n: here’s a soft josty fic to fix the pain I caused with the last one <3 this can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but as a stand alone is fine! this is heavily inspired by this tiktok. title comes from best years by 5sos! enjoy and let me know what you think as always <3

warnings: fluff, lots of it. swearing

word count: 2.4k

The universe works in mysterious ways. Some people believe in destiny, some in luck, and some not at all. In (Y/N)’s case, she didn’t really know what to believe. All she knows is that someone on the other side is looking out for her. If we’re talking fate, then it must’ve been fate that she moved to Denver for school. And it was fate that she became friends with Susanna. And it was fate again that allowed the love of her life to manifest in the form of Tyson Jost.

Two years ago, (Y/N) was just a heartbroken soul who gave up on finding true love. Then she was a nervous wreck on a blind date. But now, she thinks she would relive every single heartbreak she’s ever had if it meant she was where she is today.

Her relationship with Tyson has been nothing short of a whirlwind. And it isn’t the kind of relationship that fades: she knew they were in it for the long haul. They had both mutually agreed that the future wouldn't be worthwhile if they didn’t have each other in it. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. They were long past the phases of puppy love and honeymoons, and had their fair share of arguments and self doubts. But it was their own version of perfect. No one understood (Y/N)’s need for quiet nights to herself with a romance novel and a candle like Tyson did. And no one understood Tyson’s love for self care nights and pink moscato like (Y/N) did. There was a level of mutual respect that existed between them, and a series of actions that said those three little words more than they needed to be spoken.

Just over 3 months ago was when they made the leap to move in together. The lease on (Y/N)’s apartment was coming to an end, and her old sedan was starting to require more trips to the shop due to the excess driving between places. Not to mention (Y/N)’s neighbor was probably getting sick of babysitting her dog so often. So, one morning after (Y/N) had slept over Tyson had woken her up with breakfast and a handwritten letter asking her to move in with him.

Now, when Tyson arrived home from a rough game or a roadie, he didn’t have to sleep in a cold bed. His home was much lighter now, and he could see in every room the touch that (Y/N) brought to it. Like his couch, that was now decorated with throw pillows and blankets to match. The picture frames that were empty on his walls now hung filled with pictures of him with his family, Kacey’s graduation photo, memories from their relationship, some of him and the team, and even some of (Y/N)’s niece. It was no longer his “sad bachelor pad” as deemed by EJ, it was a home.

The only downside to living together was the fact that he had to leave her for roadies. Many mornings he would wake up, limbs tangled with hers and his head in the crook of her neck, listening to (Y/N)’s soft reprimands telling him he has to pack. They would spend too long saying goodbye, sharing sweet kisses and laughs until Tyson’s phone would buzz repeatedly with texts from JT complaining they’d be late.

Yesterday was one of those days. Tyson left for his longest roadie of the season and he’d be gone for almost 2 and a half weeks. They’d been apart for much longer, especially the first summer they were together. Now, they spend their summers in Alberta, Denver, and visiting (Y/N)’s family. But that didn’t make being apart any easier.

(Y/N) woke up to heavy breathing in her face. Opening her eyes, she was met with the scrunched face of her bulldog, Pickles. “Jesus, P. You sure don’t wake me up as romantically as Daddy does.” She remarked, swinging her feet off the side of the bed. Grabbing her phone, she saw a few texts from her coworkers detailing the day’s work, some notifications from instagram, and then a few from Tyson. A smile found it’s way across her face as she opened them.

Tyson🥰

Good morning lovebug, hope u slept well. Facetime me when u get a chance, wanna see ur beautiful face :)

She laughed before locking her phone and exiting the bedroom. She grabbed her headphones and Pickles’ leash before taking him for a quick walk so he could do his business. The sounds of Tyson’s playlist titled “lovebug” filled her ears. He made her the playlist for their first anniversary, and she's pretty sure there’s not a day that goes by that she doesn't listen to it. Returning to the apartment, she started up her work computer and took a quick look at some emails, before starting the iced coffee maker and pressing the camera button on Tyson’s contact. The familiar jingle of Facetime’s loading call rang for about 3 seconds, before she was met with the smiling face of her boyfriend.

“Good morning, lovebug!” He exclaimed. The dark wood of the hotel bed frame was seen behind him as he was propped up against it, his one arm thrown behind his head. His mop of unruly curls fell into his face and his brown eyes were lively, but full of sleep. (Y/N) could tell he had just woken up, and she tried not to make it to obvious when her eyes ran over the bit of his bare chest she could see.

“Good morning handsome, how’d you sleep? Are you feeling jet lagged at all?” She questioned.

Tyson’s camera moved as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. “Sleep was fine, not the same without you though.” A disgruntled gag sounded from behind the camera. “Comphs don't let me cuddle him like you do unfortunately.” Tyson said with a smirk.

“He just wails in his sleep about how much he misses you!” JT joked from across the room.

(Y/N) laughed, knowing full well they were both liars because she had caught them in a very cuddly position many times after a few too many drinks.

“You guys are dorks. What’s up for today?” She asked, sipping on her coffee.

“Gonna go grab some grub with the boys then head out to morning skate. Gabe wants to do some team bonding too so we’ll see what that entails, eh? What about you? Lotsa work?” Tyson said, running his hands through his curls.

“Not really, just gonna finish some reports and I have a couple meetings and an interview lead.”

As she finished her sentence, she heard a knock on the door. Pickles let out a small woof but not at all moving from his bed.

“Hold on babe, there’s someone at the door.” She said, taking their call with her.

“Oh, I wonder who it could be, Kind of early.” Tyson said calmly, but (Y/N) was too focused to have any suspicion.

She looked through the peephole and saw no one, but noticed a package outside the door.

“Hmm, that’s strange. Someone left a package though.” She told him.

“Oh, really? Interesting.” Tyson said. (Y/N) stopped for a second, and narrowed her eyes before saying, “What.”

“Nothing! Just see what it is.”

She let out a huff before opening the door and grabbing the package. It wasn’t too heavy, just kind of bulky. Balancing her phone on top, she walked back towards the kitchen, her suspicion growing that her curly headed boyfriend on screen had something to do with it.

“Tyson, do you happen to know anything about this?” She said, grabbing the scissors to open the package. Her phone was propped up so Tyson could see her opening it.

“No, not a thing. Let’s see what’s inside though. I gotta find out who’s dropping off secret gifts to my girl.” He replied.

She giggled, “Yeah, because I’m the one in this relationship who’s got secret admirers.”

As she opened the package, she let out a gasp. The first thing she laid eyes upon was a letter, and a bag that was an oh-so-familiar shade of blue.

“Tyson….” She let out, her heart suddenly bursting with more love than usual.

On the other side of the screen, Tyson felt his cheeks grow hot as a goofy smile drew across his face. “Surprise?” He said letting out a chuckle. “Go one lovebug. Read it.”

Opening the letter, (Y/N) recognized the chicken scratch as her boyfriends, and she smiled as she began to read.

My dearest, (Y/N):

When I leave for road trips, there’s nothing I miss more than you. I know it must suck to not have me there, because without you beside me I am lonely, and each time I leave I look forward only to returning to you. (Ok, and maybe our little pudgeball son too.) Since you’ve come into my life I’ve never known how much you can miss another human being. I appreciate everything you do to work your life into my lifestyle and everything you’ve had to sacrifice to do so. I promise that the rest of our lives will be worth it. Since I am gone for a while, I figured I’d leave you something to keep you company until I return, for this and every road trip ahead. I love you so much my lovebug.

Yours forever,

Tyson

Tears filled her eyes now, and she choked on a sob while letting out a laugh.

“Josty, you sap. I love you so much. Fuck, I miss you.” She said, looking at him through the screen.

“I love you too and I miss you so fucking much. Go on, keep looking.”

Setting down the letter, (Y/N) grabbed the blue bag, and pulled out another blue box and a notecard.

“Tiffany, Tyson seriously? This is too much.” (Y/N) said.

“Nothing is ever too much baby, stop it.”

Opening the note, it read a single sentence: “Call It What You Want. T Swift. 2:09.”

She was confused for a second, but then she realized. That song was on their playlist, and she immediately knew what lyric he was referring to.

I want to wear his initial on a chain around my neck. Not because he owns me, but because he really knows me.

She pulled the whte ribbon off the box, the pulled the pouch out of the box. Tyson’s breach hitched as she began to take the necklace out. A Tiffany heart pendant hung from a silver chain, with a second pendant behind it, engraved with what (Y/N) read to be “TJ” and on the other side “17”.

“Tyson…”

“Do you like it?” He said, softer than he intended.

“I love it so much. It’s beautiful.” She replied.

“Put it on, let’s see.” He told her. As she put the pendant around her neck, he admired just how beautiful she was. Bare faced, in her pj’s, in their shared kitchen, sporting a necklace with his initials. He was sure that not even the gates of heaven could compare to that sight. Until he could put a diamond on her finger, the necklace would do.

“It’s so pretty baby, thank you.” (Y/N) said.

“I knew you’d love it. I know how much you love that song too. That’s not it, keep looking in the box.” He said eagerly.

“Ok pretty boy, if you say so.”

Removing a layer of tissue paper, she was met with the cutest thing, and so unexpected. A brown build a bear sat smiling up at her, sporting a grey Colorado Avalanche hoodie.

“Oh my God, Tyson, he's so cute!” She exclaimed, taking the bear out of the box and squeezing it close to her.

“I knew you’d love him. Go on and squeeze his paw, eh?” Tyson said.

“Oh, ok!” (Y/N) said, and her jaw dropped once she did it. The sweet sounds of her boyfriends voice filled her ears, and it wasn’t coming from her phone.

“I love you! See you soon lovebug. I miss you.” said the bear. In that moment, (Y/N) could have died. Nothing could’ve ever prepared her for that. There was also no person on earth who’d ever done something for her like this other than Tyson. Looking up from the bear, she was met with Tyson's smiling face.

“Do you like it? I figured you could use something to cuddle when I’m not there. And I know how much you miss my voice when I’m not there. You told me when you were drunk.”

(Y/N) threw her head back laughing. “I love it so much. Thank you, Tyson, seriously. You have no idea how much this means to me.” She said, now holding the phone closer to her face, the bear still in her arms.

“You’re welcome lovebug. I hope this helps you get through the roadie a little better now.” he said sweetly.

“It will for sure. I love you.”

“Love you too bug. ‘M glad I got to see you open it. Gotta go now thought before Nate knocks the door down, he’s been looking for me. I love you and I’ll talk to you later ok?” He said, standing up to find a change of clothes.

“I’m glad I called. Have a great day and tell the boys I say hey, ok? Love you mister. Be safe babe.” (Y/N) said, having moved to sit at her desk in the corner of the kitchen, bear still in tow.

“I will. Kisses.” Tyson said, blowing her a kiss.

“Kisses,” (Y/N) returned one back, “Bye my love.”

“Bye pretty girl.” He said before hanging up.

(Y/N) sighed, grabbing the pendant and swinging it on the chain a bit and smiled. She really wondered how she got so lucky. She made a mental note to send Susanna flowers or something. Glancing down at Pickles in his bed, she said: “Your dad’s a good guy, P. We’re lucky.” Obviously, Pickles didn’t respond but it’s the thought that counts.

As she started her days work, she did so with a love drunk attitude.

Tyson was built like a daydream. He knew her soul and body like no other. And as she recalled from that very first day in the cafe, he was a ray of sunshine in her usual cloudy sky.

For now, she’d count down the days until he came home to her.

(With the help of the bear of course.)

taglist: add yourself here @comphybiscuit @stars-canucks @fallinallincurls @2manytabsopen @hollyjollyjosty @tysonjost-taylorsversion @sorryjustafangirl @hotanddistraught @hockstuff

#emmie writes #tyson jost fic #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #tyson jost fanfiction #colorado avalanche fic

[aereres]

Stuck On You - Cale Makar

Summary: What started as a friendship between you and Cale takes a turn during one of the best summer vacations of your life - a week in a campsite with your new friends from Colorado.

A/N: A self-indulgent Cale fic, who would have thought lmao. Definitely not my best work but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: a couple swear words, mentions of break-up

Summer. Summer held something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the road trips with music blasting from your car’s speakers, or the endless nights spent drinking cheap beers with strangers while sitting on docks. Maybe it was the seasonal loves, the ones you’d talk about with your friends after coming home, or maybe it was the memories.

Summer had always been something you had never missed, no matter how hard school got, or how good your job paid people to stay during the hottest months of the year; and, in Colorado, it wasn’t any different.

You were gasping for breath when you finally reached the perfect spot for camping, your backpack heavy on your shoulders as your friends walked past you. The excited giggles that left their lips joined the sound of birds chirping as they pushed their own belongings on the ground.

“Oh my God,” Johanna laughed, Andre’s arm wrapped around her shoulders as she looked around the empty side of the forest your getaway was going to take place in. “This place is beautiful,”

“It is,” Sydney said from beside her, eyes cast on her bag as she started to take some stuff out.

You were still taking the beautiful view in, a smile on your lips as you realized that summer was finally starting. A new summer, you thought, with new friends and a new spot.

“Y/N, just come here already!” Andre yelled from the distance, pushing you out of your trance. “Your tent is not gonna build itself,”

“I’m coming,” you giggled, jokingly rolling your eyes your friend’s way as you pushed your backpack down your shoulders, looking around for an empty space for yourself.

“I’m here-”

The breathless words were mumbled behind you, making you turn around quickly to find a flushed face. Cale’s cheeks were their usual dark shade of red, sweat lining his forehead as he tried to gain back his breathing.

“Oh- hi, Cale,” you smiled, heart fluttering when your eyes met his face. “You doing okay?”

“I was a little late,” he mumbled, waving JT’s way before his eyes gently settled on you. It seemed like he had realized you were there in front of him just then, his body tensing as a small smile formed on his lips. “Hi, Y/N,”

“Oh my God,” Nate huffed. “I’ll literally let the two of you sleep with the bears if you don’t start with the tents,”

“Fine, fine. You guys are annoying as hell,” you mumbled, brushing past him to reach one of the last two empty spots, throwing the bag that held your tent on the ground. The paper that slipped out of the opened zipper was filled with instructions, the words so small you almost struggled to read through them. If it wasn’t already difficult enough, the drawings explaining how to set up the tent weren’t helping, either.

You were just starting to understand something when your friends’ loud laughter filled your ears, along with the sound of bottles of beer being opened. You laughed to yourself, taking one of the many thin poles in your hands as you tried to figure out where it was supposed to go, one of your palms burying itself in your hair.

You had never been the greatest at building things, and you weren’t surprised when you grew close to calling one of the guys and ask for their help. Their tents had been built in less than half an hour, helping you prop up yours wasn’t going to be too difficult. Right?

“Here, give it to me. I’ll help you,” the familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts, as deep as you remembered it to be. Cale was standing beside you, arms folded over his chest as he gave your work a quick look, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Never been camping?”

“Not really,” you giggled awkwardly, handing him the item in your hand as he figured the mess out. His feet carried him to the left side of the tent, sliding the first part of the tube in its place.

“Alright, go on the other side,”

With Cale’s help, building a tent had never been easier. He knew what to do and where to start, he honestly made it look easy. Your shelter was ready after just a couple of minutes, and you found yourself smiling Cale’s way as soon as he mumbled a quick ‘we’re done’.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, taking his place by your side again as the two of you gave the results one last look. “Looks better than mine down there,”

You giggled, turning around to wrap an arm around him, pulling him in a quick hug. “Thank you so much,” you said, pushing a stray hair out of your eyesight. “Wouldn’t have made it, without you,”

“You’re welcome,” Cale said rather rushedly, his cheeks blushing slightly. You weren’t able to see the way he flushed, though, turning around way too quickly to unpack your bag and getting the last few things for your shelter out.

As you pushed your phone out of your pocket, you realized just then how messily the butterflies in your stomach were dancing. And it was all because of Cale.

-

The sounds of the fireplace were comforting you as everyone enjoyed the first night of the summer together with a beer in hand. Loud laughter was coming from the Avalanche players, and you could hear a few laughs and giggles coming from your own friends, too.

“I can’t believe they gave you a penalty, man,” Tyson admitted, referring to Nathan’s last call on the ice that cost the team a power-play goal. “It was a clean hit and we all saw that,”

“Yeah, man,” EJ agreed, tipping his head back as he finished his beer.

“Call was ridiculous,” Nate agreed, shrugging slightly to signal the end of the conversation before letting an arm wrap around his girlfriend. “What have you been up to, Y/N? You’re the only one we don’t see too often,”

You chuckled at his words, shaking your head as you swallowed the last piece of s’more in your mouth. “Just been working, trying to get a promotion,”

“You go, girl,” Johanna cheered, making you laugh. “And Christian?”

The laughter left your body as soon as your ex was mentioned, the last words of your final argument repeating themselves in your mind. “Christian?” Was all you were able to mumble, eyes cast on the fire as you buried your hands in the pockets of your hoodie.

“Your boyfriend,” Susanna stated, making you chuckle out bitterly.

“Well, ex-boyfriend,” you sighed, shrugging when you looked up to see a few shocked faces. “Broke up a few months ago, now,”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Mikko yelled, his voice loud over the mixed words of shock from your friends.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, casting your eyes to your lap as everyone kept talking, slowly starting to express the way they all almost despised your ex. Nathan - and his girlfriend agreed with him - said something about Christian hitting on his girl, Tyson complained about the fact that he had never seemed to treat you good, and all the girls agreed with him.

Thinking about your break-up on the first day of your summer vacation wasn’t something you had planned, so you silently kept to yourself, hoping the conversation would drop quickly. Your eyes lifted up from the orange flames of the fire, finding the stars illuminating the dark sky, so subtle yet so beautiful. All the voices of your friends were silenced as you admired the beauty of the night, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in finally leaving your lips.

A gentle hand nudged your elbow, your attention snapping towards the person to your right in a quick second. Staring back at you was Cale, a soft smile on his lips as he held a stick with a roasted marshmallow between the two of you. “For you,”

“For me?”

“I know you love roasted marshmallows,” he mumbled, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Just thought of making one for you, I guess,”

A small smile formed on your lips at his kindness, cheeks burning as you accepted the stick. “You’re too sweet, Cale,” you mumbled, your shoulder leaning against his as you grabbed the candy from the top of the branch, pushing it in your mouth.

He grabbed his own marshmallow and slid it in his mouth, your eyes meeting as you silently looked at each other. His cheeks grew bigger from the size of the candy, a small piece of it coloring the side of his mouth.

You giggled, his own laughter following yours as you swallowed. “Hang on, Cale,” you mumbled, coming closer to him as you tried to ignore your heartbeat picking up its pace. “You’ve got something-”

Your palm cupped his scarlet cheek, warm against your skin as your thumb smoothed the sticky substance away, your eyes barely leaving his as the two of you sat back in place. Both of your heartbeats were loud, cheeks burning as you acted as if the closeness hadn’t affected you in any kind of way.

You silently hoped nobody had paid attention to the two of you, knowing the guys wouldn’t hold down the chirping; but when you looked back at the team and wags, they all seemed to be too focused on their conversation to even notice Cale’s burning cheeks, or your fingers slightly touching.

You were the first one to wish everyone a good night, that day, to retrieve in your tent and listen to your heart beat loudly. You felt like a teenager again, feeling just so jittery after the interaction with the man you had always spent too much time looking at, and had always looked for whenever you’d join the group at any kind of event.

You had always repressed whatever you had been feeling for Cale, pushed it to the side to avoid any kind of rejection. But the way Cale smiled your way, the way he helped you out whenever he could, the way he tried to find subtle ways to gently touch you.

Something in you, that night, was guessing that your feelings might have been mutual.

-----

“Does this happen every time you guys go camping?” You asked Sydney breathlessly as you took a look at the hiking path in front of you. You were already two hours into the hike, the guys all walking ahead of you as if the uphill path wasn’t tiring them, at all. “Like, do you ever get a break when hiking with the boys?”

“Nope,” Sydney giggled from beside you, stopping in her tracks to take a sip of her water. “You’re a newbie to our camping trips, you’ll get used to it,”

You laughed along with her, looping your arm around hers as you followed the rest of the group through the sunrays-lit forest, sweat threatening to line your forehead. Walking in front of everyone was Cale, laughing along with Nate as you watched him, a smile of your own forming on your lips.

The moments of the previous night kept repeating in your mind as you silently walked, hoping the man living in your mind wouldn’t notice the fondness in your eyes whenever he looked your way.

“So, you and Cale?”

The words leaving Sydney’s mouth had your cheeks burning, the smile on your face quickly turning sheepish as you kept walking. “What about me and Cale?”

“C’mon,” she laughed, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “Last night?”

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle, shaking your head slowly as you looked at the path in front of you. “That was nothing,”

“Nothing?!” She cried exasperatedly, pushing your shoulder as she kept walking. “You looked like you were going to make-out on the spot,”

“That’s not true,”

“That’s more than true, Y/N,” she laughed, silence settling between the two of you after her teasing words. Maybe you and Cale hadn’t been that smooth, you thought. Her elbow was quick to hit your ribcage after a few minutes, her eyes finding yours again as a small smirk formed on her lips. “He’s single, you’re finally single. You should give it a thought,”

“It’s just a stupid, small crush,” you admitted. “Nothing more,”

“Then why not try and see where things would lead?” She stated, knowing she was right. “I’ve never seen Cale act like that,”

“Like what?”

“Like a smitten teenager,” her honesty had you laughing, your head shaking as you were the one to push her shoulder, that time. When your laughter died down, her voice made its way inside your ears. “But really, you should try,”

She didn’t give you time to give her a response, slipping away from you to reach her boyfriend’s side, who had called her name. You were left on your own once again, staring ahead of you, your eyes focused on the back of Cale’s head as you struggled to keep up with the group.

Was it so easy to notice? The way your cheeks would heat up, or the way your smile would turn giddy as soon as he’d be close enough to have your fingers brushing against his. Was it that easy?

“C’mon, Y/N! We’re almost there!” EJ yelled from the front, his toothless smile shining from the distance as he walked backward. You laughed, throwing your head back for a quick second before meeting eyes with a smiley Cale standing by his side.

His cheeks were their usual scarlet color, hair slightly tousled from being pushed back too many times, but he still looked like the kind of person who would steal your heart in no time.

-

“Good night, Y/N,” Tyson was the last person to leave the fireplace, a smile on his face as he walked towards his tent, the silence of the night engulfing you in a warm embrace.

Your eyes drifted up towards the sky - as they always did - and found the patterns of stars painting it. The moon was shining brightly that night, its rays illuminating your face as you silently thought about your day. And Cale.

The hike had gone surprisingly well: the various hours under the hot sun had been worth it, the view from the top of the mountains so beautiful you could never forget it. But you couldn’t just forget Cale, his lingering touches, and the way his eyes would be staring deeply at you whenever they could.

When he had helped you down a particularly high, rocky step, your breath had hitched, the feeling of his rough yet gentle hands on your waist pushing the butterflies in your stomach back to life. You were sure you had never felt so deeply connected to someone, the way Cale was making you feel just so unknown to you. You didn’t want things to end.

“You sure you’ll be okay out here on your own?”

Your head snapped towards the source of sound, the nest of tousled blond hair you knew too well finding your eyes in less than a second. “Yeah, don’t worry, Cale,”

Your gaze fell back on the stars, ignoring the sound of his footsteps until the shuffling of his body next to yours snapped you out of your thoughts again. “The stars are beautiful, tonight,” was all Cale mumbled as your shoulders touched.

“City pollution doesn’t do them much justice,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around your folded legs as you sent him a quick glance. “I should probably come here more often,”

“It’s such a nice place,” Cale stated, a layer of comfortable silence settling between the two of you. Your body leaned against his on its own command, your head almost resting on his shoulder as the sounds of the crickets surrounding you pushed you into a state of calmness.

His body seemed to tense for a second, but his arm wrapped around your middle when he realized there was nothing you wanted more than to feel him close to you. He was silent for a few minutes - just enjoying your closeness and the warmth your body held - before letting his eyes close.

You didn’t recall walking back to your tent, the next morning when you woke up, but his hoodie still covering your body was a tell-tale sign Cale had brought you back after a while. You buried your flushed face in your pillow, that morning, the sun warming up your tent as you still felt Cale close to you.

Did he feel the same way?

-----

“Oh. My. God. Y/N!” Johanna yelled, trembling as the chilly water of the lake hit her back, all thanks to your splashing. You giggled at her exaggerated reaction, dipping underwater to escape any of her splashes as she tried to look for revenge.

The sun was setting after another long hike, its reflection painting the lake an orange shade as you cooled down, enjoying the last day of the vacation with the team. It was a summer you were going to remember, but you felt stressed, in some kind of way.

Your heart was beating for someone, and that someone was Cale. You had never felt as close to him as you did on the trip, and you felt like something was going to happen. Eventually.

But the trip was coming to its end: you’d have to go home and get back to your schedule, the guys would go back in full swing to their own jobs, and you weren’t ready to give up on the progress you and Cale had made, not yet. It felt as if the universe wanted you to be happy, giving you Cale and feelings you just couldn’t hold back, and just a small time to find your happiness.

The water had stopped moving around you, and you realized just then that Johanna had left, and you were - yet again - on your own. The water had started to cool down even more due to the dark clouds already painting the sky, pushing you to sit on the dock with a towel wrapped around your shoulders to warm up.

The world seemed to grow quiet as you watched the clouds move, reminding you of the sleepless night you were going to spend in your lonely tent due to the upcoming rainstorm. You smiled, though, taking a deep breath as the sound of laughter from the distance slowly put your world back into motion.

“You’re going to get a cold,”

“Would be worth it,” you giggled, watching Cale move until he was sitting next to you on the dock. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, dinner’s almost ready,” he mumbled, his own eyes falling on the sky. You hummed, wrapping the towel tighter around your shoulders as you scooted closer to him.

“I’m going to miss this,” you whispered truthfully, your cold fingers busy on the strings of your bikini. “Camping, nights in front of the fireplace, you guys,”

“Same,” Cale admitted. “I don’t want it to end, you know? I’m going to miss you,”

Your heart fluttered at his words, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a spiral for a quick second as he kept talking. “And it’s stupid to say, because I see you just so often,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m going to miss you, and what happened between us here,”

You took a second to let his words sink in, just how quickly they made your body feel warm and how they made you feel like a teenager in love all over again. “It doesn’t have to end, Cale,” was all you whispered, your eyes meeting his as you let your heart beat loudly, not caring if anyone heard it.

“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way,” he said, honesty slipping from his lips as he let a hand cup your cheek tenderly.

“And I didn’t think you’d feel the same way, either,” you giggled, your chest warming up unexpectedly when his lips brushed up in a smile. You admired him, letting your eyes rake across his eyes, then his nose, his rosy cheeks, and - soon after - his lips. “Promise me we won’t let this go to waste,”

“We won’t,” he whispered back, his free hand lacing with yours as your lips finally met. Your world felt complete, at least, it seemed like it. With his hands on you and his gentle kisses, you felt alive, you felt like you were finally home.

One of his kisses turned into two, and two turned into three. As warm as he made you feel, your body heat was lowering and you had to pull away with clattering teeth before you bit his lip a little too hard. Your foreheads met for a moment, your eyes closing as you spent one last moment with him, the closeness having you weak.

“You’re freezing,” he stated, eyes carefully taking notice of your purple lips and shaking limbs. “Let’s go, you need to get changed before you die on me,”

“I’m fine, Cale,” you giggled, taking his hand to stand up with him before you started to head towards your camping spot, where the rest of the team was making dinner. His hand stayed in yours as he led you towards your tent, not caring - or worrying - if your friends saw.

Dinner was quite uneventful after that. You ate in silence as you missed Cale’s touch, a smile on your lips as you caught him staring your way from the distance. You didn’t set up the fireplace, that night. Rain started to hit your skin by ten, and everyone pretty much understood your last night had come to an end.

You had wished Cale goodnight with a subtle squeeze of his hand before heading towards your tent, sliding under your covers as you thought about the events of the day. Your mind went back to the man that stole your heart, thinking about the way your heart would stutter every time he’d look your way, or just how quickly your mood could change when his skin touched yours.

Saying you were stuck on him was an understatement.

The tiredness from the activities started to kick in - your eyes feeling quite heavy as you pushed your phone away from you - but the sounds the rain made, the fear of a storm and just what it could cause, they were keeping you up.

The raindrops were hitting the fabric of the tent harshly, and as much as you tried to relax, you just couldn’t. It was well past midnight when an idea popped in your mind, but you just couldn’t. It was too much, and too early.

You rolled to your side, your air mattress making a squeaking noise as you did so. It was too early. Your phone vibrated, pushing you out of your thoughts as the screen lit up, a new message waiting to be read.

I’m outside your tent.

Your brows furrowed at Cale’s text, looking up to see that, in fact, someone was standing outside your tent. You crawled towards the entrance, pushing the zipper down until the cold hair of the night hit your face, and your eyes met Cale’s frame.

“What the hell are you doing here? You’re going to catch a cold!”

“Would be worth it,” he repeated the words you had used earlier that day. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you whisper-yelled, almost dragging him inside before you closed the tent back up. “What are you doing here, Cale?”

“I noticed you couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, sitting on the edge of your mattress as his eyes stayed on your features even in the darkness of the night. “And I couldn’t sleep either,”

You giggled, shaking your head when you had realized you had had the same idea at the same time. You had been so close to joining Cale in his tent to relax and let all your worries leave your body, but he had beaten you at your own game.

With your last ounce of courage, you pressed a quick kiss to his blushing cheek, pulling him along with you to lay on the mattress. “Just come here,”

You were facing each other after you slipped under the covers again, his eyes staring into yours as you felt your body snuggle closer to his at its own command. One of his arms wrapped itself around your body, pulling you even closer as you felt a tender kiss being pressed to the crown of your head.

“Get some rest,” he whispered in your hair, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he talked. “I’ll be here in the morning,”

“Good night, Cale,”

“Good night, Y/N,”

-

Morning came quickly, too quickly for your liking. The sun was weakly lighting up your tent, its rays shining against Cale’s skin just right. He was still with you - as he had promised - and you were sure there was no better way to wake up than to open your eyes and see Cale, before anyone else.

He was breathing shallowly, eyes still closed as his arms kept tight around your waist, no sign of him waking up just yet. Your heart was a fluttering mess: you’d gone from complete strangers, to friends, to what seemed like lovers. And, God- you didn’t want it to end.

One single digit of yours ghosted over his soft cheek, starting to trace his features as lightly as it could as you admired him with all you had, hoping he wouldn’t wake up from your motions. A long sigh left his lips at your touch, eyelids squeezing for a quick second before he let them open.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, voice gravelly as he closed his eyes for another moment.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, retrieving your hand as he pulled you closer. “Slept well?”

“Yes,” he dragged the last letter, the smile on his lips making you giggle. “You?”

“Like a baby,”

“That’s good,”

Silence settled between you as you enjoyed his warmth, brain running way too quickly at just eight in the morning while you traced shapes on his clothed chest. “They’re gonna chirp the hell out of us,” you giggled.

“Oh, God,” Cale chuckled, his palm landing on his face as he remembered about his restless teammates. “Might as well just die in here,”

You giggled, tugging the tent’s zipper open and grabbing his hand to get him out of your bed. “Just let them talk,” you whispered in his ear before stepping outside, stretching your limbs. His quite taller frame struggled to exit the tent, but when he did, a chorus of gasps surrounded you.

“I knew it!” Johanna yelled, receiving a slap from a sleepy Sydney when her loud voice scared her. “I fucking knew it!”

“Cale is getting it, guys!” Tyson said loudly, making Cale’s cheeks heat up.

“Shut the fuck up, Josty,” you spat out jokingly, pushing his shoulder as you found an empty spot to sit on. “Don’t chirp my boyfriend,”

The weight of Cale’s body sitting next to you was enough to distract you for a second, but his thick voice in your ear really took your breath away. “Boyfriend?”

You bit your lip, looking up at him innocently before sending him a quick smile. “Only if you want to,”

He hummed, jokingly leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek, your heart beating loudly against your ribcage. “I’ll think about it,”

Breakfast was over in a rush, and you found yourself packing your belongings with sad sighs leaving your lips every now and then. Even though summer had barely just reached its peak, you weren’t ready to leave the memories of the camping trip behind just yet.

On the hike back to the parking lot, your hand stayed in Cale’s. It fit in his palm so easily you couldn’t help but think you were never going to stop holding his hand, as pathetic as it sounded. The air was chilly, and it held sadness as you two and the rest of the group walked back to your cars.

“I don’t want this to end,” Susanna said, hugging you tightly as you all said goodbye. “I’m going to miss you girls,”

“We’ll find a way to see each other, babe,” Sydney reassured her as they embraced each other.

“Y/N,” Nate greeted you with a smile, a smirk on his lips as he hugged you. “I’m hoping to see you at our next game with an eight on your back,”

You punched his shoulder jokingly when you parted ways, laughing along with him. “I’ll miss you too, Nate,”

Your last goodbyes were sad, numerous people piling in cars as you waved their way, your back resting against your car as you sighed softly.

“So,” Cale mumbled from behind you, stepping closer to your frame as he looked down at you. “Would be interested in our next game’s ticket and my personal jersey, as Nate suggested?”

You giggled, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I mean, maybe,” you joked, biting on your lip as you let your eyes meet.

“As my girlfriend, you should probably say yes,” he said, looking down at you with a smirk as he gave you no time to respond, his lips meeting yours in a kiss.

“Girlfriend?”

He matched the smile on your face, leaning down to press another kiss before mocking your words from that morning. His voice was smooth, making your heart beat faster than usual, the butterflies in your stomach so crazy you were worried he could feel them.

“Only if you want to,”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @captaindaddies @keithseabrook27 @heatherawoowoo @sidscrosbyy @laurenairay @nathan-baelieu​

#cale makar #cale makar x reader #cale makar imagine #nhl #nhl x reader #colorado avalanche #hockey imagine

[blueskrugs]

Some People Do, Part 2. | Nathan MacKinnon

the MacRedemption arc y’all didn’t need or ask for. this fic brought to you by taylor swift’s folklore

Part 1.

also huge shoutout to @burkymakar for beta-ing this monster of a sequel that turned out about three and a half times as long as the original.

length: 21.1k words

The Avalanche’s new season started. You didn’t watch the home opener. In fact, you weren’t even around to watch it. You left Denver. Took some leave from work, packed a couple bags, and went back to your hometown to be with your family for a while.

Or, to be somewhere where the ghosts of your relationship with Nate didn’t seem to follow you everywhere. You didn’t think Denver and the people in it would miss you that much anyway. 

Mel called you one afternoon at the beginning of the Avs’ first road trip of the season. “Linnea misses you,” she said gently after you picked up the phone. “The boys are out of town, and I want all the girls to come over to watch the game tomorrow night. I’ll buy that wine you like, and we can order pizza.”

You sucked in a deep breath, your hand pausing where it was buried deep in your parents’ dog’s fur. Mel misinterpreted your silence and rushed to keep talking.

“We don’t have to talk about anything. We just want to see you. No one’s really heard from you since the season started.”

“Mel, I’m not in Denver. I left.” You heard Mel drop something on the other end of the line. Zoey started barking in the background.

“You left? What d’you mean you left? Without telling anyone? Y/N!” Mel’s voice rose as she spoke. You winced a little bit.

“I mean, I told my mom I was coming home…” Mel sighed at you. “Look, I’ll come back eventually, probably, I just couldn’t handle being there, seeing his face or hearing his name everywhere anymore.” Mel hummed, a sad sound. “Please don’t tell Gabe or any of the boys that I’m gone. I don’t need them worrying about me.”

“Oh, they already do, but I won’t say anything, I promise,” Mel said. 

When your phone rang later that night and EJ’s name flashed across your screen, you groaned and cursed Mel under your breath. Of course she had told EJ anyway. You let it ring through to voicemail; he called again. He left a voicemail the second time, and then a minute later, your phone vibrated with a text, too. You didn’t really feel like listening to EJ scold you, so you ignored them both. EJ kept texting you through the night, all variations of “call me back.”

It wasn’t until you were curled up in your bed in the dark, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you leaned against your headboard, that you pressed play on EJ’s voicemail. He did indeed scold you for a moment before his voice softened. You could picture the worried look in his eyes clearly. 

“Please call me back, Y/N. Gabe’s losing his mind, and I want to know that you’re okay. I will fucking fly to your hometown if you won’t talk to me,” he threatened.

The thing was, you really didn’t doubt that EJ would use their next off day to track you down. You bit your lip, thumb hovering over the call button. The phone had barely rung once before EJ was answering it. 

“Thank fuck, Y/N.” He sounded a little out of breath, and a lot like he was trying to be casual about it, but failing terribly, which made you smile. “Mel said you left Denver? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Mel also said she wasn’t going to tell you boys. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t aware that I had to tell you everything, EJ. You’re not my brother.”

You could practically hear EJ rolling his eyes at you. “No, but I’m the closest thing you’ve got while you’re in Denver, and it would’ve been nice to know you’re safe or something.”

You scoffed. “Not like any of you have tried very hard to check on me before now. You could’ve called at any time, EJ.”

EJ sighed, “Okay, fair enough. Do you know when you’ll come home? Cox has been moping around the house since training camp started. We all know he misses you, but Nate doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t know if I will come back, E,” you said carefully. EJ made a sound like he wanted to argue with you but stayed quiet. “I love Denver, but so much of it is tied up with Nate, I don’t know if I can handle that.” “Okay, but consider this: someone’s gotta take care of Burky, because he’s still kind of an idiot.” That startled a laugh out of you, and when EJ spoke again, you could hear his grin. “I think he almost misses you more than Cox.” He paused. “We all miss you, Y/N.”

It was almost November before you made yourself get on a plane back to Denver. You went quietly, too afraid of how many Avs players would show up at your apartment door if they caught wind of you being back in town. You went back to work every day, and at night you would sit on the couch with a glass of wine and torture yourself by watching the Avalanche play. It turned out that not even a broken heart could keep you away from hockey for too long. You still had to catch yourself to keep from cheering every time Nate scored, though. Some habits were harder to break than others, apparently.

You still texted EJ every once in a while, carefully not mentioning that you were back in Denver. You wondered how long it would take him to figure out. 

You watched the games from the safety of your apartment most nights, and you never texted any of the boys, though the temptation was there sometimes, after someone scored a particularly good goal, or took a spectacularly stupid penalty. 

And then Nate took a dirty hit from a Stars player that threw him into the boards. It was his shoulder again, you knew, even before he got up slowly and made his way off the ice, even through the TV screen you were watching on. The camera panned over the bench once, showed you all the tense, worried faces of the players as they looked at each other, looked at the scoreboard—where they were losing with not enough time left—looked at where one of their best players had disappeared down the tunnel. 

Your phone was in your hand before you realized what you were doing. You were pretty sure you still had one of the trainers’ numbers from one of Nate’s last injuries, but as you pulled open the text thread, you didn’t even know what to say. 

No one knew where your relationship with Nate stood. Hell, you didn’t even know where your relationship with Nate stood anymore. No one even knew you’d come back to Denver. 

You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched the clock wind down. Your phone stayed unlocked in your hand, but you hadn’t typed anything. 

Instead, you backed out of the texts to the Avs’ trainer. You opened a text thread you hadn’t used much lately. Typed out a message and hit send before you could stop yourself. 

“Can I come over?”

You were half-asleep on the couch when your phone vibrated again half an hour later, hockey highlights on mute on the TV. You jolted awake, reaching for it in the half-dark. You blinked against the brightness of your phone screen. On it were two words: “of course.”

You jumped up, tugging a hoodie on over your pajamas. 

The roads to Nate’s house were familiar, even in the dark. Your hands shook on your steering wheel as you got closer. You weren’t really sure what you had been thinking when you had texted Nate, aside from some instinct to take care of him when he was injured. 

You weren’t sure what Nate was thinking by telling you to come over, either. 

The lights were on on the first floor when you pulled into the driveway. You sat in the car for a minute, steeling yourself, before making your way to the front door. 

You no longer had a key. You could hear Cox barking inside, his nails scrabbling on the hardwood as he raced towards the front door, and Nate’s frustrated, “God, shut up!” before the door was being pulled open. 

Cox barked one last time before he was barreling into your legs. You bent down to pet Cox, burying your face in his fur for a moment, choosing to ignore Nate standing in the doorway. If you were hiding a few tears, that was between you and Cox. Cox stopped deigning to stand still after a minute, wanting instead to lick your face, so you pulled back and stood up, meeting Nate’s eyes at last.

His arm was in a sling, and he looked tired, beyond the fact that he had just played a hard hockey game, and more like he wasn’t sleeping well. He shifted awkwardly on his socked feet; you tried not to notice the way he winced when his shoulder moved. 

His voice was quiet, shy, when he spoke. “Hi.”

Cox was still wiggling happily at your feet, and you almost didn’t hear him. You stopped petting Cox to grin sheepishly up at Nate. “Hey.”

Nate shook himself a little, taking a step back and opening the front door a little wider. “Come on, it’s dark out.”

You followed him inside, noting the stiffness in his neck and shoulders as he walked. Cox nudged at your hands as you walked, clearly ecstatic that you’d come home. Nate went into the living room and settled on the couch, but you walked into the kitchen to pull an ice pack out of the freezer. Your hands were shaking a little again.

You slowly made your way back into the living room, trying very hard not to think about everything that had happened the last time you had been in there. Nate had turned the TV on, but you didn’t look at it as you threw the ice pack at him. Nate winced again as he caught it, but still mumbled a “Thanks.” 

You stayed standing. Cox rolled over onto his back by your feet. Nate chuckled at him a little before an awkward silence fell over the room again.

“I didn’t know you were back in Denver,” Nate said finally. You had crouched down to rub Cox’s belly, but your head shot up to look at Nate. He hadn’t moved on the couch, and between the sling, the ice pack, and the tension in the room, he looked downright uncomfortable. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel particularly sorry for him.

“I didn’t know EJ had told you I left,” you replied, making a mental note to kill EJ the next time you saw him. Nate shrugged as best as he could with an injured shoulder. “I came back a couple of weeks ago, been keeping to myself mostly.” Nate made a face that you couldn’t read. That was new. You’d always been able to figure him out, even when he was trying to hide his emotions. 

“Why are you here?” Nate asked quietly. Your hands paused in Cox’s fur again. You knew he wasn’t asking why you had come back to Denver, but why you were here in the house you used to share, getting him ice packs and petting Cox like nothing had ever changed. 

“I don’t know, Nate,” you sighed. “Honestly. I was watching the game and saw you go down, and some terrible fucking instinct of mine wanted to make sure you were okay, and here I am.”

Nate grinned, but his eyes were sad. “You don’t have to take care of me anymore. I don’t deserve it.” It was your turn to shrug. Cox was now attempting to sit in your lap; you pushed your face into his fur again, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “He’s missed you a lot, y’know,” Nate added. Cox rested his chin on the top of your head. “I think he’s mad at me or something. Gives me the cold shoulder when I get home from roadies now. Won’t sleep on the bed with me anymore, either.” 

You managed a laugh; you hoped Nate didn’t hear how watery it was. Cox snuffled in your hair, and you hugged him a little tighter. When you pulled back from him, Nate was smiling at both of you fondly, and a little wistfully.

You stood up, checking your watch. “I should- I better go. It’s getting kinda late, and I have to work in the morning.” Something flashed across Nate’s face again, but he stood up, letting the ice pack fall to the couch. He was clearly still in pain, but he was less stiff than he had been when you arrived. “Don’t leave that on the couch overnight,” you told him, looking over his shoulder at the melting ice pack. Nate rolled his eyes, but smiled softly at you.

“I won’t, I promise.” Nate followed you to the door. “Hey, can I drop Cox off at your place some days, and, like, for some of our road trips? I don’t know if he can handle you not being around much longer.” You both looked at Cox, who was also following you two to the door, suddenly looking dejected again. “Look, he knows you’re leaving again.” Nate bent down to squish Cox’s face as best as he could with only one hand, then settled for ruffling his ears. “He misses you.” You smiled in spite of yourself and bent to drop a kiss to the top of Cox’s head.

“I miss you, too, baby. My apartment is a lot smaller than you’re used to, but there’s a park we can go to a couple of blocks over.” Cox whined at you. 

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Nate said. 

You looked closely at him before responding. His eyes were still tired, a little haggard and a little too old for his body, but they were brighter than they had been earlier. 

“Of course,” you said. 

You did text Nate as soon as your apartment door was locked behind you. It felt strange, something you had both always done in the early days of your relationship, but had stopped being necessary as time went on and you had moved in together. It hurt a little bit, knowing all the history and things you had shared with Nate, but feeling as if you barely knew each other after all this time. You had never imagined that you would have to start your relationship over with Nate. You weren’t sure you really wanted to. 

Nate started texting you again after that, just random, unobtrusive messages: pictures and videos of Cox or stupid things one of his teammates had said during the day. You never replied, aside from occasionally reacting to some of the messages, but Nate didn’t seem to expect or need a response from you, because they just kept coming. 

You started to look forward to seeing them everyday.

Cox did also start coming around to your apartment, though it was usually EJ or Burky bringing him over. The first time Nate had tried to drop him off, but Cox had gotten confused and wouldn’t let Nate leave. It had led to one very awkward walk to the park in silence. 

The first road trip was the hardest. It was nice to have Cox around again, curled up behind your legs in your bed as you slept and demanding attention constantly, but you couldn’t help but think of the things you now knew. The things Nate got up to on road trips. Was it just like last year all over again? Were you home with the dog while Nate was off with some girl that wasn’t you? Was he with the same girl as last time, was he still flying her out to games? Or had he found someone else new to pass the time with?

The Avs swept the road trip, but you couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of the games.

It was the week before Christmas when you found yourself outside Nate’s front door again. He had tried to give you a key– your old key– since you were taking care of Cox all the time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it. Today you had been baking, and Sarah had asked for your snickerdoodles for when she came to town. 

Cox didn’t bark when you came to the door anymore, but he did greet you with a toy in his mouth. 

“You’re a terrible guard dog,” Nate scoffed. Cox wiggled excitedly. “He still knows the sound of your car,” he told you. “You can never get another one.”

You laughed, handing the Tupperware of cookies off to Nate so you could bend down and throw the toy for Cox. “He’s a good guard dog when it counts,” you said. “Remember when he barked at EJ because he had his teeth in?”

Nate laughed as you followed him into the kitchen. “I think he growled at Burky for like two months, but only if he was wearing a hat.” He tilted the Tupperware of cookies up to the light. “Jesus, how many cookies did you fucking bake? You know I can’t eat any of these, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, whatever, don’t front. You and Tyson used to eat all sorts of shit I would bake during the season. And your sister asked for snickerdoodles, and I wanted to try a new recipe for gingerbread, so y’all get to be the guinea pigs for it, too.”

Nate’s eyes widened, and he tore the lid off the container and dug through it until he came up with a gingerbread cookie.  “Fuck, Y/N, I love you,” he groaned, mouth full of cookie, before he froze. “I didn’t- I’m sorry. These are really good, though.”

All you said was, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, MacKinnon,” just to see Nate’s blush. His words, however accidental, however impulsive, were still ringing in your ears, and you were trying not to think about them. 

Nate finished his cookie in silence. Cox had come back and was nudging your hand so you would throw his toy again. Outside the kitchen window, it had started to snow, fat white flakes floating by. You threw Cox’s toy a couple more times, watching as he skittered off down the hall.

“Big, scary German shepherd, my ass,” you muttered as Cox slid and wiped out on the hardwood. His tail was still wagging.

The snow was falling harder already. “I should get home before I get snowed in here,” you said, reaching for your keys.

Nate looked out the window, alarmed. “Like hell you are. It’s dark and already snowing hard. I don’t want you driving home in this.”

“Nate,” you sighed.

“I know, I know. But it’s too fucking dangerous for you to drive, and you can have the guest room and Cox, and I’ll stay out of your way. I meant what I said about leaving you alone when you closed the door. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You sighed, looking over Nate’s shoulder at the snow falling outside the window. It really was falling fast already, quickly becoming a blizzard. You shivered in spite of yourself. 

“Fine, but I’m taking you up on sharing a bed with Cox.”

Nate grinned, and it hit you that you could never make yourself hate that smile. 

Cox trailed after you to the living room, but Nate lingered in the kitchen. You could hear him banging through cabinets and drawers. At one point, he called out, “Where’s the- never mind!” You and Cox just shared a look. 

Eventually Nate came into the living room, balancing two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate full of gingerbread cookies. You raised an eyebrow, but Nate just shrugged.

“It’s cold outside. By the way, you might need to make more gingerbread before Sarah comes.”

“I thought cookies weren’t on the diet,” you teased. Nate’s ears turned red, and you laughed.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, taking a bite to punctuate his sentence.

A quiet fell again, and outside the window, so did the snow. You ran your fingers through Cox’s fur absentmindedly as you sipped your hot chocolate.

“Is that really what you want, Nate? Someone who doesn’t even like hockey?” you blurted. You didn’t regret shattering the careful atmosphere of the house.

Nate grimaced, and he rushed to set his mug down, nearly spilling hot chocolate on the rug. He turned to look at you. “Fuck, no, Y/N, I- I have never regretted anything more in my life. And regrets do fuck-all to fix things, I know that, but I want you to know that, given the opportunity, I would go back to the beginning of last season and change it all. I could still play the worst hockey of my career, and I wouldn’t care as long as I got to keep you at the end of it all.”

“Nate, some of the things you said...I spent so many nights awake last summer, thinking about them, wondering what I could’ve done better or differently, wondering if it was all my fault,” you said. You didn’t wipe away the tear that slid down your cheek. 

Nate looked like he wanted to reach out to touch you. “I believed what I said at the time, fuck, I was so stupid. One of the things I’ve always loved most about you is that you loved hockey before you met me. You understood hockey. And suddenly I had someone in my life who loved the sport I loved, but also loved me. You knew when to talk about the game with me, and you knew when to distract me. You would have loved me even without the hockey, and I was so fucking destructive, so fucking stupid that I threw it all away.” Nate’s blue eyes were clouded with tears now, too. 

“Where did I go wrong, Nate? Where did we go wrong?”

This time Nate did reach out for you, lunging across the couch to grab your hands, sliding down to his knees next to you. “No, no, fuck no. None of this is on you; it never was. I thought then that what I needed was the anonymity to ground me, but what I’ve always needed was you.” 

You let out a sob, wrenched one of your hands away from Nate’s to cover your mouth. Nate grabbed your wrist and tugged your hand back down, brushing a tear away with his thumb as he did. 

“You’re the one who’s always kept me grounded, got me out of my head when I would start to freak out. You never gave a fuck about who I was. I could just be Nate with you.”

You sat still for a moment, trying to process Nate’s words. “I left Denver because I couldn’t handle seeing your fucking face everywhere. Because no matter what you did, you would always be Nathan MacKinnon, face of the Colorado Avalanche. But you fucking destroyed me, Nate. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to trust myself or anyone else again. I didn’t know if I’d ever want to come back to Denver again. I hated myself for still loving someone who had proved that he could forget about me so easily.” You broke off with another sob; Nate rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand absently. “I meant what I said about not being able to do this again. I can’t just jump headfirst into the deep end. I can’t go back to the way things were, no matter how much I want to. I just can’t.”

Nate smiled, but it was small. “I don’t think I could ask you to go back to the way things were. I don’t wanna ask you to start over and forget everything, either. I don’t deserve that. But you’re here. And I wanna know if you’re willing to try, let me prove that I can do this right this time.” 

You sighed and looked away. Nate’s eyes, intense and cautiously hopeful, were too much to look at. “I don’t know, Nate.” Nate visibly deflated. “It’s not a no,” you added. “Just… I don’t know.” You were still gazing around the living room. It was the week before Christmas, but there weren’t any decorations anywhere, not even a tree. “Hey, where are all of our Christmas decorations?” you asked.

Nate shrugged and stood up. “Didn’t feel right, without you, I guess. Just never really seemed like Christmas,” he admitted. You pouted a little at him, but he just rolled his eyes.

Christmas had always been your favorite holiday, and, over the years, you had brought Nate around to loving it just as much as you did. 

You and Nate had only been dating a couple of weeks by the time the holiday season rolled around. Nate didn’t seem nearly as enthusiastic about Christmas as you were, even though this would be your first Christmas in Denver, away from your family. 

“Nate, where are your Christmas decorations?” you called, standing in the entryway and looking at Nate’s barren house at the beginning of December. 

He poked his head out of a doorway. “I have a tree?” he said. You must’ve looked appalled, because he added, “I don’t really need that much. We’re gone so much, it doesn’t feel like it’s worth the effort.”

“Okay, change of plans!” you said, already slipping your boots back on. Nate groaned, but he came into the hallway, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at you. “I wanted to get some new decorations for my apartment, and now you’re coming, too, so we can decorate this wasteland you call a house.”

“Hey! My mom did a lot of the decorating in here!” 

“Yes, and it still looks exactly like the house of a twenty-something professional athlete who doesn’t give a fuck aboout aesthetic or interior design. Now, come on, put your shoes on, let’s go!”

Nate groaned again, but he grabbed his keys and put on shoes. “Fine, but I’m driving,” he said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. You grinned at him.

You already had most of the decorations you needed for your small apartment, but Nate’s house had pretty much nothing, and Nate had absolutely no idea how much time you could spend shopping, especially when it came to Christmas decorations.

You ended up dragging him to four stores over the course of a couple hours, with the promise of “I swear it won’t take long in there” every time. It never was true. By the end, the trunk of Nate’s car was filled with bags of decorations, including some cute wrapping paper and bows you had insisted he buy.

“You know I can’t wrap a present, right?” he had asked when you put the wrapping paper in the cart. You had let out a frustrated groan, poking him between the ribs.

“Well, guess you’re gonna have to learn, MacKinnon, because I am not wrapping your presents for you.”

It took the two of you nearly ten minutes to haul all the bags back into the house, with Cox excitedly running back and forth with you on each trip. Nate collapsed on the couch. 

“Babe, I’m tired,” he said. Cox, still excited, leaped onto his stomach. “Oof, bud, rude.”

“Did you still want to cook, or do you want to order something?” you asked, digging through a bag for the wreath you wanted to hang on the front door.

Nate checked his watch. “What about that one bar we went to last week? They had good food.” 

You nodded, now looking for the stocking you had insisted Nate buy for Cox.

After a couple more hours, Nate’s house had been decorated to your satisfaction, with lights, candles and garland. You had made Nate turn on Christmas music while you worked, and more than once you caught him smiling at you as you sang along. Nate was now slumped on the couch again. You threw a throw pillow at him.

“See, I told you it would feel more like a home if you decorated.” Nate sighed and hugged the pillow to his chest without opening his eyes, which you knew meant that you were right but he didn't want to admit to it. “Do you want to go to bed?” you asked. Nate nodded silently. The Avs didn’t have an early practice in the morning, and as the hours had ticked on while you decorated, Nate had told you to stay the night instead of driving home.

“Hey, wait,” Nate said suddenly as you walked through the doorway, tugging your wrist and spinning you around into his chest. “Isn’t there some tradition to do with kissing?”

“I didn’t buy mistletoe, Nate,” you teased, but you let Nate lean down to kiss you anyway, slow and deep, with one hand on the small of your back and the other cupping your cheek.

You got ready for bed in a comfortable silence. You were still humming the words to a Christmas song. Cox was waiting on the bed for you when you left the bathroom. Nate made him move over so you could have room on the bed, but he did so begrudgingly. You hadn’t been planning on staying, so you were drowning in one of Nate’s T-shirts.

You curled into his chest, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled beneath your ear. “You should come to the Christmas family skate with me,” he said casually, but you could feel his tenseness where your hand was resting on his hip. 

You pulled back to look at him. “You know I can’t skate, right?” And other than seeing Tyson Barrie a handful of times, mostly in passing, you hadn’t met any of Nate’s teammates, and you weren’t going to lie and say you weren’t a little nervous about the idea. 

“You’ll be surrounded by hockey players, babe. I’ll make sure you don’t fall, don’t worry.”

Nate broke you out of your reverie. “Would you- did you want to decorate? I can get everything out.” He sounded unsure. Decorating for Christmas had become an all-day affair over the years, complete with baking cookies and watching holiday movies. 

You thought about it for a second. Nate had been right, something about Christmas felt off this year, like something– or someone, you supposed wryly–  was missing.

“You go get the boxes, I’ll make more hot chocolate, and I get to pick the music.”

“Always,” Nate smiled, bright and wide and real, almost relieved that you’d been willing. 

Something told you that no one had seen a lot of that smile recently. 

While you waited for Nate to dig out the boxes of Christmas decorations, you stole his Bluetooth speaker to connect your Christmas playlist, and turned on the gas fireplace. Instantly, the room felt warmer and more welcoming.

Almost like home.

Nate set one of the boxes down with a thud, startling you. “Alright, here’s the tree, and we’ve still got like four more boxes, because someone has no self control when it comes to buying Christmas decorations.”

You blushed a little, but looked straight at Nate when you said, “Well, let’s get started then.”

You moved easily around each other, falling into a rhythm. You were mostly quiet, aside from Nate asking you where things went, and both of you singing along to songs, but it wasn’t awkward or tense like most of your silences had been of late. Nate didn’t even complain when you threw a throw pillow at him.

“Where Are You Christmas” began playing, Faith Hill’s voice filling the living room, and you smiled as Nate stretched to put the star on top of the tree. He turned and saw you looking at him; he walked over to you, slipping one arm around your waist.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked quietly.

“Feels like Christmas again,” you murmured. 

Nate wrapped his other arm around you and tugged you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, solid and strong like he’d always been, and let yourself lean into it. You stayed like that for several minutes, long enough for the song to end and another one to start. The living room had been mostly decorated, and behind Nate, the tree filled the room with a warm light. You could see the two salt dough ornaments you had made for your second Christmas together, when Nate gave you a key to his house and asked if you would move in, and when you had wrangled Cox into making one with his pawprint.

The song changed again. You smiled against Nate’s shirt. They’re singing ‘Deck the Halls’ but it’s not like Christmas at all, ‘cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year. Nate rested his chin on the top of your head; he was warm, chasing away the chill you still felt from the snow outside.

Cox nudged his way in between you, never wanting to miss anything, effectively ruining the moment. He jumped up, placing his paws gently on Nate’s chest. 

“Oh, do you wanna be in on the hug too, buddy?” Nate asked, ruffling Cox’s ears. You smiled at them as Cox wagged his tail, trying to fight back a yawn, but Nate noticed anyway. “It’s getting pretty late, isn’t it? Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?”

You had spent the day baking, so you weren’t dressed nicely, but it would be nice to wear something else to sleep in. Nate left you in the guest bathroom with an extra toothbrush, and an old, well-worn Avalanche T-shirt. Cox was laying on the floor, waiting for you. 

It felt strange, wearing one of Nate’s oversized T-shirts, in the house you once called home, sleeping in the guest room like a stranger. Everything was so familiar, but you no longer felt like you belonged. You were on your phone under the blankets when Cox jumped off the bed and whined at the closed door. 

“What is it, baby?” you asked, peering through the dark. You could just barely make out Cox’s dark eyes staring back at you. He whined again, this time pawing at the bottom of the door. “You wanna go sleep with Nate? C’mon.”

You pushed the blankets back and climbed out of the bed. Sleep didn’t seem to be coming any time soon, anyway. Cox whined again as you walked across the room and opened the door. He took a step out into the hall before turning back to look at you again. 

You groaned. “Cox, I know you know where the bedroom is. Go find Nate.” Cox took a couple steps, but stopped when he saw you weren’t following him. “Stupid dog, let’s go.”

Cox ran ahead as you made your way to the closed bedroom door. He sat next to you, looked up at you with his tongue hanging out, and you knocked quietly on the door. 

“Yeah?” Nate didn’t sound like he’d been asleep, either. 

“Cox wants to sleep with you, apparently.” Nate chuckled, and you heard his footsteps on the other side of the door. 

You took a step back as he pulled it open. “I thought you didn’t like me anymore?” he asked. Cox ignored him and leaped onto the bed. You both laughed as he settled in, looking very pleased with himself. You were on your way back to the guest room when you heard Nate speak softly again. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Ten minutes later, you were still scrolling aimlessly through your phone when it vibrated with a text. “he won’t stop whining at the door.” You frowned before replying. 

“that’s what he was doing in here. I thought he just wanted to be with you.”

There was a longer pause before Nate replied again; you were about to set your phone down and try to sleep. “I think he wants both of us” Then: “come to bed?”

You stared at that text until your screen went dark. You could go to sleep and pretend that it never happened, but something was stopping you. Something about the night you and Nate had shared gave you the distinct sensation that your relationship had shifted again. You still weren’t sure where you stood, not really, but thinking about your relationship no longer came with the sharp edge of heartbreak it had held for so long.

You crept out into the hallway again. Down the stairs, the soft glow of all of the Christmas lights you had put up still lit up the house. The door to your old bedroom was still solidly closed. You could picture Nate tangled up in the sheets, like he always used to be, with Cox stretched out near his feet. You paused with your hand on the doorknob. 

You could turn back now, and no one would know. You wondered vaguely, what kind of woman it made you, to even consider fixing a relationship with the man who cheated on you. Did it make you weak? Were you a fool? What did it mean that Nate had destroyed your trust, and you were willing to give it back to him, however broken?

You twisted the doorknob. As light from the hall flooded into the room, you could see Cox sitting up on the bed, staring at the door, and Nate was leaned up against the headboard. When he smiled at you, his teeth flashed white in the dimness.

Cox was thumping his tail against the bed. “Seriously, do you guard against anything?” you whispered as he licked your hand.

Nate was quiet as you set your phone down on the bedside table and settled into bed. “He’s pretty good at guarding my heart,” he whispered. There was an infinity of space between the two of you on the bed, but Cox was warm against your feet. 

“I think it took him three months before he stopped watching my every move when I was over,” you said back. “Too bad he couldn’t protect me against a broken heart.” Nate sucked in a sharp breath. You rolled over before he could respond.

The two of you laid in the dark and silence for a while; you couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but eventually you fell asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you found yourself tangled with Nate. His bare feet were cold against your legs, but his hand was warm where it had slipped under your– his, really– T-shirt. Your face was tucked into his chest, and you could feel his slow, gentle breaths stirring your hair. 

Outside, the sun glinted off the snow, bitterly cold, but inside, in this bed, you were warm and cozy, Nate’s arm across your hip a comforting weight.  You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off to sleep again.

When you awoke again, Nate was awake, but he had pulled you closer. You tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for anymore. 

You laid like that for a few minutes more before Cox stuck his nose under the sheets and whined. You laughed as Nate squirmed away from the cold.

“I think someone wants breakfast,” you said, stretching. Cox’s ears perked up. 

“C’mon, buddy,” Nate sighed.

When you wandered downstairs a few minutes later, Nate was standing in the kitchen, making breakfast. He had turned on Christmas music again and was singing along with Mariah Carey. You only barely resisted the urge to sneak your phone out and record him. As it was, you stood and watched him for a moment, leaning against the island with a small smile on your face. Eventually, Nate felt your eyes on his back and turned around.

“Still like your eggs the same way?” he asked. You had never changed the way you took your eggs in all the years you had known Nate, so you nodded. Nate had already turned back to the stove.

Things were awkward again in the daylight, the rawness of all the talking done the night before too much for the sunshine. You watched and waited as Nate put eggs on two plates, pulled some fruit out of the fridge, and slid you a mug of coffee. It was still hot, and made just the way you liked it. 

“They should have the roads cleared soon, and you can get home,” Nate said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him, startled, but his eyes were focused on his plate. Right. Time to break the spell and return to the real world. Christmas music was still playing quietly, but now it felt wrong.

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna have to clean off my car,” you groaned.

“I’ll help you,” Nate said easily, and maybe things didn’t quite have to go back to the way things were. 

Christmas passed without further incident, although André did text you and ask for more gingerbread cookies. Nate continued texting you, but now you started responding every once in a while, even sending him something first a couple of times. When Nate dropped Cox off the night before a road trip, he came with takeout from your favorite restaurant. EJ started texting you more, too, asking pointed questions about when you would come to a game or hang out with the guys.

You had been avoiding them, it was true, and you missed them, but you weren’t entirely sure that you could handle all of them. It turned out that you couldn’t avoid them any longer when Mel and Aleks invited– insisted, more like– you to come to a game with them just after the new year. 

You told them that you would think about it and took a full two days to respond. You said yes; you always knew you would say yes. You decided not to tell any of the boys that you’d be going, but you got a text from every other wife and girlfriend, all telling you how excited they were to see you again.

You found yourself getting excited, too, despite the lingering anxiousness of seeing Nate around all of his teammates. You’d always loved the energy of hockey games, and the Pepsi Center was no exception. It was thrilling, in a way, and it always seemed more energizing when you were dating one of the players down on the ice, listening to thousands of fans scream his name, knowing that you were the one who got to hold him after a game.

Now, though, you knew that you hadn’t been the only one who got to see Nate, to kiss him, after a game.

You drove to the Can with Mel and Linnea. You weren’t wearing your MacKinnon jersey, just a sweater and jeans; you had seen the jersey shoved in the back of your closet when you were getting ready, and paused, but you didn’t think you were ready for that, not yet. To her credit, Mel hadn’t commented on it when you climbed into her car. 

The Pepsi Center was as frenzied and intoxicating as you remembered it. The Avs’ last season had turned out to be a fluke, and the team was tearing up the Western Conference. Ashley Kadri laughed at you when she saw you simply staring around the arena like a child at their first hockey game, a giant grin on your face, but she draped her arm across your shoulders, pulling you in and saying, “Welcome back, girl.”

The Avalanche won in a wild battle against the Blues that saw Nate with two goals. You couldn’t help but think that you didn’t have a hat to throw if he had scored a third goal. 

The girls roped you into coming down to the family room to wait for your boys after the game. The adrenaline high of the game was wearing off, and you were nervous all over again about seeing Nate. Maybe you should’ve told him you were coming, you thought, as you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. You didn’t think he’d get upset that you were at a game, he used to love it when you came to games, but things were so different now.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by a half-dressed, curly head of hair barrelling into you. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for balance as he clutched onto your waist.

“Christ, Burky, I saw you, like, last week.”

André squeezed you tighter. “Yeah, but now you’re at a game! You haven’t come to a game in ages!”

“Let her breathe, Burk,” Gabe said from somewhere behind you. André let go, but didn’t move far away from you. “He’s right, though. You’ve been avoiding us.”

“God, you sound like EJ. Can you blame me for not wanting to see you guys?” You heard the defensiveness creep into your tone. Gabe just shrugged.

“Leave her alone, both of you.” It was Nate’s voice this time. You spun around to face him, and Burky took a half step in front of you. 

Nate didn’t seem to notice, though, because his eyes were on you. You knew he saw that you weren’t wearing his jersey, but his eyes lingered on the necklace that hung around your throat, the same one he had given you three years ago.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said. You bit your lip again. EJ appeared over Nate’s shoulder, like he could sense the tension, and was ready for a fight. “Shit, I mean, come here, yeah?” 

You dashed around Burky and into Nate’s arms. He had already showered, and you buried your face in his chest, breathed in the familiar smell of his soap and deodorant, as he held you. Distantly, you heard some of the other boys cheering, and Gabe shushing them. Nate pulled away from you and walked you over to a quieter hallway around the corner.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Nate repeated once the din of the rest of his team faded away.

You shrugged. “It was kinda an impulsive decision,” you lied, but Nate smirked at you.

“You never do anything impulsive. Besides, your hair and makeup are done, and it’s a Saturday night.” You stuck your tongue out at him instead of responding. Nate’s eyes softened as they caught the necklace you were wearing again. “I thought you would’ve gotten rid of that by now,” he said. 

Instinctively, your hand went up to fidget with the pendant. “I hadn’t been wearing it, but I thought I could tonight.”

Nate smiled sadly at you. “That was a nice night, wasn’t it?”

Your smile matched Nate’s. “Everything was nice back then.”

Your first anniversary with Nate actually fell in the middle of a road trip. Nate had called you to apologize when the schedule first came out, but you had just laughed and told him it wasn’t his fault.

He apologized again when you were sitting on his bed while he packed for the road trip. This time you stood up and wrapped your arms around Nate’s neck, going up on your toes to peck his lips.

“Babe, it’s fine, I get it,” you told him. “Cox and I will still be here when you get back.” Nate finally smiled at that.

“We’ll go out and celebrate properly then, I promise,” he said, tossing a pair of socks behind you at his suitcase. He missed. “By the way, can I have that hoodie back?”

You pulled the sleeves of his way-too-big hoodie over your hands. “What hoodie?” you asked innocently.

Nate laughed before wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He tossed you easily onto the bed, and you shrieked as you bounced. And then Nate was on top of you, propped up on his forearms. He kissed you once, twice, and then a third time, deeper than the other two. You reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair. 

Nate pulled back just enough to murmur “I love you” against your lips before he was kissing you again. 

Downstairs, Nate’s doorbell rang, and Cox started barking. Nate buried his face in your neck and groaned. You scratched your nails down Nate’s neck; he melted into you.

“Tyson’s early,” you said. Nate groaned again. Cox was still barking at the door. “You should get off of me and finish packing.”

“Maybe if we ignore him he’ll just go away,” Nate said, voice still muffled into your shoulder. 

“Have you even met your best friend?” you asked, poking Nate in the ribs. He just rested his weight more solidly on top of you. As if to further prove your point, the doorbell rang again. 

Nate heaved a sigh and rolled off of you.

Nate ended up kicking you out of the bedroom while he finished packing, calling you a “distraction” and a “sweatshirt thief.” You settled for sitting on the couch with your feet on Tyson’s lap, Cox happily between the two of you, his head resting on your outstretched legs.

“So, what are you two doing for your anniversary?” Tyson asked, nosy as ever. 

“Fuck if I know,” you said. “Nate gave me his credit card one day last week to buy a dress, but he won’t tell me anything else about what we’re doing.”

Tyson laughed, and you kicked him. “Ow, rude!” Nate came down the stairs with his suitcase then. “Nathan, your girlfriend is being mean to me.”

“You probably deserved it,” Nate said flatly. Tyson looked absolutely affronted. Nate cut him off before he could say something indignant. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for the plane.” He shot you a grin and dropped a kiss on your head as he headed for the front door.

Tyson  grumbled as he shoved your feet off his lap and stood up, following Nate. 

“Text me when you land!” you called after them. Nate made a noise that might have been a “duh” at you before closing the front door. “Well, I guess it’s just us again, bud,” you said, looking at Cox, who decided he no longer wanted to be on the couch with you and flopped onto the floor.

When Nate Skyped you for your virtual date on your anniversary, you were surprised that he was in a button-down instead of his usual sweatshirt. You, on the other hand, were in an old Mooseheads sweatshirt that you had commandeered from Nate’s closet.

“Shit,” you said, “I didn’t know I was supposed to dress up for this.” 

Nate laughed; that was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. “I’m still wearing sweatpants, don’t worry.”

You were in the kitchen this time, instead of curled up on Nate’s bed, as Nate had insisted that you eat dinner together, even going as far to order you a pizza from your favorite pizza place and have it delivered to you. Nate let you talk about your day at work while you ate, and then he told you about the practice they’d had that morning, and how the rookies were goofing off and got everyone in trouble. 

You talked for hours, you sitting at his kitchen table, Nate at the desk in his hotel room. It was getting late, and you stretched, Nate’s sweatshirt riding up your stomach.

“Hang on, what the hell did you do to my sweatshirt?” Nate asked, cutting himself off in the middle of a story.

You tugged the sweatshirt back down. You had gotten bored and cropped it, and you didn’t think Nate would ever notice. “I cropped it?” you said, more of a question.

“Babe, that could’ve been a collectible someday! And you destroyed it!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve never even seen you wear it, and I can promise you no one is going to think this will be a collectible one day. Besides, I can still wear it just fine.” You stood up, ready to go to bed, and your stomach flashed a little again.

Nate shrugged. “Okay, maybe I don’t mind it being cropped.”

Nate came home late a couple of days later. He was trying to be quiet as he came into the bedroom, but he tripped over Cox, who was sprawled out on the floor. He stripped out of his suit quickly, leaving it in a pile on the floor to deal with in the morning, before crawling into bed and laying half on top of you. The Avs had lost two out of three games on the trip, and you had winced more than once as you watched one of the guys take a rough hit. 

“Happy anniversary, babe,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. 

“That was a couple of days ago, baby,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. Nate hugged you tighter, but didn’t justify you with a response. 

When you woke up in the morning, Nate was still clinging to you, an overgrown, hockey-player-sized koala. The sun was streaming into the bedroom, which told you you’d both slept in much later than usual. Nate snuffled a little in his sleep, and you smiled down at him. 

You were still gazing at him when he started to wake up, snuggling in closer for a moment before rolling onto his back and stretching.

“Morning,” he yawned, before tugging you until you were on top of him this time, cuddling to his satisfaction. “We could stay like this all day, y’know,” he mumbled.

“I believe I was promised pancakes,” you said back. Nate sighed.

The two of you laid there for a while, just content to be close, until your stomach started growling. Nate laughed before pushing you off of him and getting up. You followed him down into the kitchen and watched as he pulled out all the things to make pancakes, including mix for some stupidly healthy kind that he insisted that he still had to eat.

The sounds of the coffee maker and Nate humming along to the radio filled the kitchen while you cut up some fruit. Nate only burnt a couple of the pancakes. 

You both laid around for most of the day, since you had the day off, and Nate skipped his optional skate. Cox seemed very happy to have both of his people around for the whole day. It wasn’t until late afternoon that Nate stood up, stretched and told you he was going to go shower. You lazed around on your phone for a while longer, until you heard Nate come out of the bathroom.

“My turn,” you said, coming into the bedroom. Nate shot you a look. “No coming into the bathroom until I come out.”

“But I haven’t seen your dress yet!” he protested. 

“Tell me where we’re going for dinner, and you can see the dress before I put it on,” you told him.

Nate stuck his tongue out at you. 

You emerged forty-five minutes later, makeup done and hair in place; you weren’t going to admit to how long it took you to get your eyeliner even. Nate wasn’t in the bedroom when you stepped out to grab your shoes and purse, so you snuck down the stairs barefoot. 

Nate startled when you put your hand on his shoulder, but when he turned around and saw you, he was struck speechless.

Your new dress was blush-pink velvet, long-sleeved, but with a short enough skirt to show off your legs in your heels. You twirled, albeit slightly self-consciously, for him.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“I love it,” Nate said, catching you around the waist and pulling you in for a kiss. “I love you,” he added, resting his forehead against yours. “Now get your shoes on, we’re gonna be late for our reservation.

Nate drove, like he always did. It wasn’t until you actually pulled up to the restaurant that you realized where you were going. It was the same restaurant Nate had taken you to for your first date, one of the nicest in Denver; you had scolded him for the extravagance of it then, and you opened your mouth to do it now, but Nate cupped your jaw and gave you a quick kiss before you could.

“Hush, I’m allowed to spoil my girl every once in a while,” he said before opening his door and climbing out of his car. 

You were still fumbling with your seatbelt when Nate came around to your side of the car to help you out. He didn’t move his hand from the small of your back until you were seated, and he settled across the table from you.

You let Nate order the wine, the appetizer, even your meal, because sometimes it seemed like he knew you better than you knew yourself. You kept up conversation throughout dinner, easy talk about anything and everything. You loved that you and Nate could still find things to talk about, even after spending an entire day with each other. 

You were almost through the dessert you were sharing when Nate started getting fidgety. You waited him out until the last plate was cleared, until he swallowed the last of his wine, still didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. You kicked him gently under the table.

“Don’t tell me you brought me here for a nice dinner just to break up with me,” you teased. 

Nate forced a laugh, but he looked less nervous. “On our anniversary? I would wait at least a week before I do that, but also I would never actually do that.” You laughed. “No, I got you something, but I just really want you to like it, and I-”

“Nate,” you said gently, nudging him gently with your foot again as you cut him off.

“Right,” Nate said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a jewelry box. He opened it to reveal a dark red garnet pendant, glowing in the dim restaurant lighting. 

“Oh, Nate, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Did your mom help you pick this out?” you teased.

“No, but Sarah did,” Nate mumbled, fumbling with the clasp as he tried to take it out of the box. “Turn around, I wanna put it on you.”

You rolled your eyes but turned and pulled your hair to the side so Nate could fasten the clasp around your neck. It hung perfectly just below your collarbones, and when you turned to kiss Nate again, it flashed and sparkled in the lights.

“I love it,” you murmured. In your heels, you didn’t have to stretch so much to kiss Nate. “I love you.”

“Hey,” Nate said, startling you out of your thoughts, “do you still have that Mooseheads sweatshirt you stole that week?”

You blushed, knowing exactly which sweatshirt he was talking about; you had been wearing it just the other day, but Nate didn’t need to know that.

“I thought you forgot about that,” you said.

“How could I forget about that? You cut off half of my sweatshirt!”

Your loud laugh caught the attention of EJ, who came over to throw an arm around each of your shoulders. 

“Alright, you two,” he said, dragging you back towards the rest of the team, “no more secret conversations. If Y/N is yelling at Nate for something, we all wanna hear it.”

Nate ended up insisting that he drive you home, and you found that you didn’t want to fight it. EJ pulled you aside just before you followed Nate out to his car, though, and asked if you were okay with it. The concern in his eyes was endearing, if unnecessary. You assured him that you would be fine, but you could feel him watching you as you walked back to Nate, who was trying very hard to pretend to be interested in something on his phone, and followed him to his car.

Nate connected his phone to the car’s speakers, but he turned on the playlist you used when you were driving. You looked over at him, surprised, but he was resolutely focused on backing out of his parking spot. 

“I didn’t think you still followed this playlist,” you said a few minutes later, after you had listened to Nate sing along to a Bastille song, the lights of Denver flashing by the windows.

He shrugged, still not looking at you, but he turned up the volume. “I still listen to it sometimes when we go on road trips,” was all he said. 

Nate started FaceTiming you from the road again. At first, he claimed it was so he could check in on Cox, but eventually he stopped asking to talk to the dog and just sat with you for hours. More than once you woke up with your phone still in your hand, having fallen asleep while talking to Nate. 

Nate came to pick up Cox one morning in February with a Starbucks in hand for you. It was exactly your order, which made you a little suspicious.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you said as you took a drink of your coffee, “but what’s wrong with the coffee I make here?”

Nate shrugged. He always seemed too large for your small apartment kitchen, but now, with his hands in his pockets and avoiding your gaze, he looked like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Cox was sitting at his feet.

“Nate, what’s up?” you asked, taking a step across the floor to Nate. You set your coffee cup down on the counter, which made Nate look up at you.

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” he blurted out. His eyes went wide, like he had surprised himself. “I mean, do you- can we try this all again? I want to do it properly, so, like, will you go out with me?”

You grinned. “Is that why you brought me a Starbucks?” you asked. “Because we met in Starbucks when you took my coffee?”

Nate groaned, but all of the tension dropped out of his shoulders. “That was an accident, and you know it!”

“Mmhmm, you definitely weren’t just looking for an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.” Nate blushed, and you gasped. “You thought I was pretty!”

Nate’s face turned even redder. “Of course I did, how could I not?” Then he added, “I’ve always thought you were pretty.”

You stepped closer to Nate again and stood up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, Nate, I’ll go out with you,” you said.

Nate grinned, wide enough that his dimple appeared, and it hit you just how much you still loved his smile. You stopped yourself from just kissing Nate right there in the middle of your kitchen, but only barely. 

Nate texted you a couple days later to tell you what time he would pick you up. When you asked what you would be doing, all he sent back was “dress warm.” You bugged him about it for a while, but you knew you would never get it out of him. 

True to his word, Nate showed up at your door just as the sun was about to set. He smiled shyly at you as you opened the door. He hovered awkwardly in the doorway as you put on your boots and grabbed your coat.

“Are you ever gonna actually tell me what we’re doing?” you asked as you locked the door.

Nate pretended to think. “Nah.” He punched the elevator button, and your hands brushed together as he brought his back to his side. Nate clenched and unclenched his fingers as the elevator door opened.

As you stepped in and turned around, you took Nate’s hand, twining your fingers together. Nate relaxed and squeezed your hand once. He held your hand all the way out to his car, and then picked it back up once he started driving.

You couldn’t count the number of times the two of you had sat just like this, Nate driving one-handed, his other hand clutching yours across the console. Nate drove into the sunset, out of the city, the only sound in the car the radio and Nate’s occasional curse at another driver. It was a calm, comfortable silence, different than it had been recently with Nate. More like how it had been before. 

Nate drove you all the way out to a field somewhere in the middle of who-knows-where, Colorado. He told you not to move before he climbed out of the car and started pulling things out of the backseat. You couldn’t tell what he was doing out in front of the car in the twilight. 

When Nate finally came to open your door and help you out of the car, you smirked at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you drove me all the way out here just to kill me,” you said.

Nate rolled his eyes and tugged your hand harder than necessary, causing you to stumble forward into his chest. He wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you; he was warm against the late winter air. When he looked down at you, his breath came out in a faint cloud. It seemed like any retort he had died on his lips. 

Nate stared down at you for a moment, still holding you to his chest. Then he seemed to shake himself, taking a half step back and taking your hand in his again. He didn’t say anything as he led you over to a blanket he’d spread out on the ground. Nate sat and pulled you down between his legs to lean against his chest.

When he spoke, you could feel his chest vibrating underneath your back. “It’s not much, but we’ve done all the typical dates already. I thought we could just watch the stars for a while.” 

You twisted around to press a kiss to Nate’s jaw. “It’s a perfect idea, Nate.” Even in the dark, you could see Nate’s cheeks turn pink.

“I brought hot chocolate, too,” he said. You hummed and snuggled in against Nate’s chest more. 

He draped another blanket over you before wrapping his arms around you. It wasn’t quite dark enough to see stars yet, so you closed your eyes and just reveled in the fact that you were there, with Nate, and for a moment, you could let yourself forget that everything had changed. You could smell Nate’s cologne, familiar and comforting, and his heartbeat was a steady rhythm beneath you. Nate tucked his nose against your neck, and that’s how the two of you sat for a long time, letting the darkness grow around you.

You shivered; the temperature had dropped with the sun, and even Nate, a walking furnace, could only do so much. 

“Here,” he said, shifting you a little bit so he could reach for the Thermos of hot chocolate. He unscrewed the cap before handing it to you.

You took a long drink, letting the warmth flow through you before handing it back to Nate. You blinked, trying to focus on the stars; you weren’t the greatest with constellations, but you had learned some of them when you were younger. 

Nate followed your gaze and pointed. “That one’s Orion, isn’t it?” You followed Nate’s finger to the three stars that made up Orion’s Belt and nodded. “That and the Big Dipper are the only ones I know,” he said.

“The Big Dipper is actually part of Ursa Major, which is a bear,” you said, tracing out the rest of it with your finger. Nate made an interested noise behind you. You looked back at Orion, following it towards Sirius and Canis Major. “That really bright one is Sirius, the Dog Star.” Nate pressed a kiss to your temple, and you smiled. You paused before pointing at another constellation. “I think that’s Pegasus, with the square, and above it is Cassiopeia.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Nate murmured, “I can’t really tell what you’re looking at, but the stars are pretty, and I could listen to you talk forever.” He rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“I don’t really know that many more constellations,” you admitted, but you suddenly remembered an old folk myth you had been told every summer as a kid at summer camp about how the stars were created. You started telling it to Nate, carefully so you didn’t leave anything out; you could never tell the story the same way you had grown up hearing it, but Nate seemed invested, anyway.

You spoke quietly in the dark field, the whole world seeming hushed and far away. Nate’s arms tightened around you once you had finished the story. He kissed your temple again, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence again, until Nate gasped and poked you in the side repeatedly.

“A shooting star!” he said, still poking you. A star had, in fact, streaked across the sky above you. 

“Yes, Nathan, I saw it, now stop poking me!”

“You’re supposed to make a wish, babe,” he said.

You sighed and closed your eyes. There, sitting on the cold ground in a field, wrapped up in Nate and his warmth, you couldn’t imagine ever wishing for anything else. You would give anything for this moment to last forever, for moments like this to become commonplace in your life again.

You sat out under the stars for a little while longer before you started shivering again. Nate laughed at you when he helped you up.

“Shut up, not all of us can be a walking heater,” you said.

“Go sit in the car, I’ll clean everything up, “ he told you, kissing your forehead.

The drive back into Denver was nothing like the drive out of the city. You took Nate’s phone and opened his Spotify, searching for your own playlist. Nate groaned when he saw what you were doing, but let you turn up the volume. You both spent the entire car ride singing along to the songs that came on at the top of your lungs. 

Nate didn’t kiss you when he left you at your apartment door, but he did duck his head and shoot you a shy smile when you told him you’d like to do that again, and it was a start for both of you.

More dates kept getting scheduled, hikes on days off, takeout and a movie on nights in, impromptu ones where Nate showed up at your work with lunch. Nate would ask you about work, or your family, and it really was just like you were getting to know each other all over again. You convinced Nate to start a new show one night, and you ended up binging a whole season, even though he had morning skate and a game the next day. You watched it together again over FaceTime the next weekend, and then it became a standing date. You argued more than once when Nate watched an episode or two without you, but it always ended with smiles and a promise that he wouldn’t do it again. Cox seemed overjoyed that his people were back together, and he always met you at Nate’s front door, his whole body wagging with excitement. 

Mel finally convinced you to come over for a girls night while the Avs were on their California trip. You had been lied to a little bit, as you had been under the impression that all of the girls would be over, but when you showed up at the Landeskog’s house, it was just Mel and Linnea, a box of pizza, and a bottle of your favorite wine. 

“I was led here under false pretenses,” you griped, but you gave Linnea a kiss and swiped a piece of pizza, anyway. 

“Is this a good idea? What we’re doing?” you asked Mel during the second intermission. Mel took a drink of her wine instead of answering. “Mel, answer me, please,” you begged, poking her with your foot.

Mel pursed her lips, eyes carefully focused on the TV. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s good for either of you,” she said. “But I do know that you’ve both been happier since Christmas. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I were you. But Nate seems like he’s trying so hard, and he’s been asking Gabe for advice all the time. If anything, I think he’s proved that he’s willing to try to change, and I think he’s done a pretty good job at it, too.”

You rubbed Zoey’s ears thoughtfully. “The longer we try to fix this, the more normal it seems. It’s not stilted or awkward anymore. I’m just afraid I’m going to get comfortable again, and I won’t be able to come back from all of this a second time.”

“For what it’s worth,” Mel said, finishing her wine. “Gabe and EJ tell me that he won’t ever go out with the team after games on the road, anymore. Some shit about wanting to set a good example for the younger guys, but even Cale goes out every once in a while.”

You thought about the last time you had seen Cale drunk, all rosy cheeks and awkward limbs, and giggled; Nate had been responsible for getting him home, and he’d ended up crashing in your guest room, and then he laid around all day nursing a hangover. Then you thought about how Nate had started FaceTiming you from hotel rooms again, always at the exact same time, without fail. Maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised that Nate had sworn off the dive bars they went to in every city. 

The game started back up, and you and Mel refocused, letting the conversation die in favor of yelling at the TV.

You started going to games more often again, not every game, but as many as you could handle. You were no longer anxious every time you stood waiting for Nate in the hallway after a game, and he still shot you one of those small, shy smiles every time he saw you. You always told him when you’d be at games now, but he seemed to be surprised every time he saw you outside the locker room, like you would decide you’d had enough, would give up on him. You went out with the boys a couple of times, too, after some particularly fun wins. Nate stuck close to you the entire night those times, plastered to your side, keeping an eye on you when you went to dance or get another drink. 

You heard the boys chirping him about it when they thought you weren’t listening. It was all gentle really, teasing him for guarding you, the old comments about how gone he was for you. You liked the way he blushed all the way up to his ears when they teased him. 

Every time you got ready for your game, the jersey in the back of your closet seemed to be taunting you. The girls were getting less subtle about the looks they gave you when you showed up to games without it. At least you had dug your Avs baseball cap out. 

It was nearing the end of the season, and the Avs were still sitting comfortably at the top of the Conference, just cruising into the playoffs. It was the middle of March before you looked at that jersey with the A on the front and MacKinnon sprawled across the back and tugged it off the hanger and over your head.

Mel didn’t say anything when you climbed into her car, but you saw the small smile before she turned and started driving again. 

The Avs ended up losing. Nate looked dejected when he came out of the locker room, but then he glanced up and saw you standing there in his jersey; he did a double take before you were being swept up in his arms.

Nate hugged you tightly, pressing his face into your hair. You could hear the rest of the boys coming out of the locker room, but the world condensed until it was just you and Nate, wrapped up in each other, warm and safe. You didn’t want to pull away.

Eventually, EJ yelled something about sharing your attention, and you broke apart. Nate had knocked your hat off in his haste, and you quickly dried the few tears that had slipped out as he bent to pick it up. Nate placed it backwards on your head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I was afraid I’d never get to see you wearing my number again,” he whispered before EJ was on you.

This year, when April rolled around, the Avalanche didn’t go home quietly to lick their wounds and recover. No, they were back in the playoffs, and they were back with a vengeance. 

“Hey, you’ll- will you come to the playoff games?” Nate asked one afternoon just before Round One started. 

You were lying on his couch with Cox on your chest. You both looked up at Nate’s words, and you craned your neck around to see Nate better where he was standing behind you.

“Do you want me to come to the games?” you asked, a little confused. Nate shuffled his feet and shoved his hands deeper into his sweatpant pockets. 

“Only if you want to,” he muttered. 

You turned fully then, causing Cox to jump off and pout at you. You reached out and grabbed one of Nate’s wrists and pulled him closer to you. He towered over you from your spot on the couch.

“I will be at every single game, and I will be cheering for you while wearing your name across my back,” you told him. Nate blinked down at you. You squeezed his hand and stood up. Nate was still staring after you as you walked out of the living room.

If someone had asked you in August or even October where you’d be if the Avs made it to the playoffs, you could’ve never told them the right answer. You could have never imagined that you would be walking into Pepsi Center for Game 1 against the Oilers, much less that you had been looking forward to this night for days. Your coworkers had all made fun of you that morning because you hadn’t been able to focus at all. They even caught you smiling at your phone when Nate had texted you around lunchtime, telling you how excited he was to see you after the game.

You weren’t going to live that down any time soon. 

You changed into your jersey before leaving work, drove straight to the Pepsi Center, and made it just in time to catch some of warm-ups. Mel pulled you aside as soon as you had said your hellos to everyone and thrust a denim playoff jacket with MacKinnon on the back at you.

“Mel,” you warned.

“Shut up,” she said, shaking the jacket at you. “I know you two still have some issues, but you are dating again, so you’re wearing the fucking jacket.”

You stuck your tongue out at Mel, but took the jacket. It was cute, you thought, looking closer at it. And it was true, you were still moving slowly, but you were technically dating Nate. Mel was still looking pointedly at you with her arms crossed, so you sighed and tugged the jacket on over your jersey. 

The other girls all squealed when you rejoined them, and you lost track of the number of pictures that were taken. You didn’t hesitate to edit your favorites and post them to your Instagram, MacKinnon proudly spread across your shoulders. 

They won, but it was close, and chippy and chirpy as playoff games always were. The boys on the ice were feeding off the energy of the crowd, and the crowd was feeding off the energy of the boys. It was a fight, but the Avalanche left the ice with a win at the end of the night.

The energy was still high, but carefully controlled, by the time all the families made it down to the locker room. One of the double doors stood ajar, and through it you could see the boys bouncing around, all in various states of undress, blasting music and yelling.

Nate was still grinning when he finally made his way out to you. He wrapped you up in a hug without taking a good look at you, but when he let you go, he caught sight of the jacket you were still wearing. He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around once before twisting you to face him again.

“Jesus, Mack, you’re making me dizzy, babe,” you laughed.

Nate just hugged you again, this time tighter than the last. 

The series with the Oilers went to seven games, because of course it did. You were starting to suspect that at least three different Avalanche players were secretly nursing injuries, but ignoring them, because of course they were. 

Nate asked you to come over the night before Game 7. He was quiet while he cooked dinner, and even your forced attempts at conversation while you ate fell flat. When Nate stood up and dropped his plate into the sink with a clatter, you jumped up and grabbed his arm, made him face you.

“Nate, I’m not doing this again. You asked me to come over, I’m here, and you’re all shut down like you were all last year.” Something like pain and sadness flashed across Nate’s face. “So you’re either going to talk to me, or I’m going home,” you said. 

Nate rubbed a hand across his face, and he suddenly looked very tired. “I know, I’m sorry, fuck, I’m just worried.”

You wrapped your arms around Nate’s waist and felt him lean into you. “Do you wanna watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”

Nate nodded and let you lead him into the living room, but pulled his phone out as soon as he sat down. You had a feeling he was rereading scouting reports again.

“Nope,” you said, plucking his phone out of his hands and locking it. Nate gaped at you for a second before he lunged. You held the phone behind your back, but Nate grabbed you around the waist and threw you onto the couch. He grinned down at you for a moment before he was tickling you, making you giggle and squirm.

“Nate, stop!” you gasped. “You’re not gonna get your phone back.” 

Nate paused, his eyes looking deep into yours. He was still leaning over you, your legs twisted together, and you could feel his breath against your cheeks. He pressed a kiss to your nose.

You found yourself wanting to close the distance between you, kiss Nate for real, but you weren’t sure if you were there yet. 

He hovered over you for a minute more in silence; you hardly dared to breathe. And then Cox barked at something outside, and the moment was over. Nate rolled off of you, but he tugged you up until you were cuddled into his side.

It was another close game the next night, but the team always seemed to play better at home, when the screaming crowd was screaming for them, not against. You watched anxiously as Nate stood on the blue line during the anthems, shuffling his skates back and forth, but he seemed calm, focused. 

When the final buzzer sounded, and the Avs won, you were already on your feet with the rest of Pepsi Center; you weren’t sure you had sat down the entire game.

You jumped into Nate’s arms outside of the locker room, his teammates’ shouts echoing off of the walls around you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered.

The Avs went down 2-0 to start the second round. You hadn’t been able to make it to the second game because you got stuck at work late, but you had watched from home; you wore your MacKinnon jersey, even though no one was around to see you. It wasn’t a pretty game, either. The Avs had been sloppy and took a lot of penalties, and you could see Nate’s frustration through your TV.

You weren’t surprised, then, when Nate showed up at your apartment door, still in his game-day suit, but looking rumpled and more than a little upset. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, because you just turned and let him follow you into your apartment.

“Do you want food?” you asked. “I doubt I have anything diet approved, but there’s ice cream and popcorn.”

But Nate shook his head, kicking off his dress shoes and stripping his suit jacket. “Can I change?” he asked instead, holding up a small bag you hadn’t even noticed at first. 

You just nodded and settled on the couch to wait while Nate made his way to your bathroom. When he came back in a hoodie and sweatpants, he looked distinctly less stiff, but there was still something like pain in his eyes.

“C’mere,” you said softly, tugging him onto the couch with you. You let Nate maneuver the two of you until you were on your back with Nate squarely on your chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Only then could you feel some of the tension in his back and shoulders start to disappear.

The minutes passed in silence for a while before Nate spoke. “Did you watch?”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, idly rubbing Nate’s back in circles. 

“Was it as bad as it seemed on the ice?”

You paused. “Worse. You guys were a mess,” you said honestly. Nate sighed and pressed his face deeper into your chest. “What happened? We all know you guys are better than that.”

Nate shrugged as best as he could from his position on top of you. Honestly, he made for a great weighted blanket, but he was starting to crush you a little.  “Would you come to the games this weekend? If I got you a plane ticket?” he asked suddenly. “I know you have to work on Friday, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but-”

You moved your hand into Nate’s hair, and he stopped talking. When he lifted his head and rested his chin on your collarbone, he looked nervous. You carded your fingers through his hair, once, twice, watching Nate’s eyes close before you answered with a question of your own. “Do you want me there?” you asked. It wasn’t the first time you had asked Nate this question since the playoffs had started, but you needed to hear the words straight from his mouth. Needed to hear him say he wanted you, needed you, that whatever was happening between you wasn’t one-sided. 

This time, Nate didn’t look away from your eyes when he answered you. “Yes.”

You insisted that Nate stay the night, although he didn’t put up much of a fight. You had eventually turned on a movie, and he had started smiling more, but you could still see the desolate look in his eyes. You had seen a lot of that look last season.

You were laying in the dark, both of you on your sides facing each other. Nate’s eyes were closed, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep yet. You were busy tracing the lines in his forehead, his jawline hidden beneath the playoff beard, wondering what he would do if you reached out for real and touched his face, when he asked you a question.

“Do you think we can do this?” His eyes were open now, that blue you loved so much clouded with doubt.

You did reach out and touch Nate’s face then, brushing your thumb across the creases in his forehead and then his cheek. “I know you can do this,” you said confidently. That confidence must have shown through in your voice, because Nate lifted his hand to yours and smiled at you.

You fell asleep holding hands. 

St. Louis was hot. It was still only late spring, but it was humid as hell as soon as you stepped off the plane. You had managed to take Friday off, and Nate had pulled some strings to get you a room in the team hotel on short notice, but you still had to fly in and Uber to the hotel on your own.

Nate hugged you hello, but it was Burky who dragged you off to take a pregame nap with him. You grinned at Nate over your shoulder, and you were pleased that he looked distinctly disgruntled.

Enterprise Center was just as loud as the Pepsi Center had been during Round 1. You stood out in your burgundy jersey in a mass of blue. You got some looks as you made your way through the concourse towards your seat. You wondered vaguely if Nate had to call in any favors with Brayden or Ryan to get you tickets to the games. You weren’t sure when you had last been to a hockey game without the rest of the Avs’ WAGs by your side; it felt strange to be alone. 

Nate’s eyes searched the crowd during warm-ups. He finally found you and smiled stupidly at you, until Burky went flying into him, and they both went sprawling. 

The Avalanche won, 3-0 in a game that silenced the crowd at Enterprise.

Nate hadn’t been able to get you a VIP pass, so you made your way out onto the street with the rest of the fans, except you were the only one excited that the Blues had lost. Nate texted you while you waited for an Uber: “wait up for me at the hotel?”

You smiled down at your phone. “of course.”

You were still in the hotel lobby when the team poured off the bus. They were loud still, and you could tell that they were lighter than they had been earlier that night. EJ beat everyone else over to you. 

“Y/N, you’re officially our good luck charm, and you’re never allowed to miss another game,” he told you. 

You laughed and leaned into EJ’s side. “I’ll be sure to tell my work that,” you said. 

EJ rested his chin on the top of your head as you both watched several of his teammates play-fight near the doors. “Who knows, maybe they’ll thank you for it.”

Nate made his way over to the two of you. He was laughing at something Gravy was saying, and you took a moment to look at how his eyes crinkled when he laughed like that. 

“Trying to steal my girl, Eej?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

You tried not to think about how pleased it made you feel to hear Nate call you his girl again. 

“Always,” EJ replied easily, but let you go to follow Nate to the elevators. 

As the doors closed behind you, Nate pulled you close. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he mumbled. 

You tilted your head up to look at him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else right now,” you told him, and you meant it. 

You dragged a bunch of the boys to the zoo the next morning. JT sat on a bench in the butterfly house long enough that a butterfly landed on his hat. Josty, on the other hand, was weirdly fascinated by all of the insects, and you had to tell him more than once not to run inside. EJ and Cale complained until you went into the penguin house. You had to tell Z that he was almost certainly too big to fit on the train, but you couldn’t convince any of them that they couldn’t go on the carousel; they insisted you go on it with them. You took a great video of a highly-amused Burky playing with the seals at the glass. 

Nate held your hand the entire time you walked. When you pulled your phone out to take the video of Burky, you found that you had several texts from the boys, all pictures of you and Nate. Nate tugging your hand to go look at the elephants. Nate smiling at you while you laughed at Tyson. Nate reaching for you while you sat next to him on the carousel.

You saved all of them to your camera roll. 

The Avs won the next night, too, and suddenly the series was tied. Nate asked you to come to his hotel room after the game, and you both fell asleep while watching a movie. 

The Pepsi Center was deafening on the night of Game 5, and soon the Avs were up 3-2 in the series, instead of being on the verge of elimination. The team was playing with a new energy, too, and you thought they may have been yelling louder than the crowd when Mikko scored to end it in overtime. 

They went back to St. Louis, and Nate FaceTimed you from his hotel room. You could hear EJ and Gabe arguing over what to order from room service in the background. 

“I miss you,” Nate said when you answered the call.

“We miss you, too!” Gabe yelled from somewhere on the other side of the room. Nate rolled his eyes.

When EJ flopped down on the bed next to Nate, he groaned, but let him rest his head on his shoulder to talk to you too. 

You watched alone from your couch as they fought through Game 6. You stopped breathing for a while when Cale took a bad hit and disappeared off the bench for part of the second period, but he came back and scored a goal during his first shift. Burky scored a goal, too, and you thought for a minute he was going to fight Brayden Schenn until Nate stepped in. The game was still tied going into the third, and then it was halfway through the third, and then suddenly the puck was flying off Naz’s stick and landing neatly in the net behind Binnington. 

Your scream might have woken a few neighbors.

Nate FaceTimed you from the locker room, and soon your screen was filled with the sweaty, but happy, faces of the boys, all clamoring to say hi to you. Nate eventually fought them off, and it was just him and his broad shoulders on your phone, and you wished you were there to hug him. 

You all watched from Gabe’s house as San Jose beat the Flames in 7, and the Conference Finals became a rematch of the 2019 playoffs. 

André got injured in Game 1, some lower body thing that had probably been bothering him for weeks, but eventually his leg gave out on the ice. He showed up at your apartment door the way Nate had in the second round. 

“Nate said something about comfort cuddles?” was what he said when you pulled open your door and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Come in here, you idiot,” you said. 

You tried not to notice how he limped through your doorway and into your living room. He flopped gracelessly onto your couch, curls peeking out from underneath his baseball hat. 

“Do you want junk food?” you asked as he pouted at you. He nodded, still shooting you sad looks as he clutched a pillow to his chest. You sighed at him, shaking your head fondly, and went to retrieve a tub of cookie dough ice cream from the fridge and a couple spoons from the drawer.

You threw the spoon at Burky, and he caught it, a small smirk on his face now. “You eat ice cream out of the tub often?” he asked.

“How do you think I got through breaking up with Nate?” you replied, peeling off the lid and digging out a chunk of cookie dough with your spoon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see André’s face fall, and he winced; you didn’t think it was because of the injury. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured, reaching across you to get his own spoonful of ice cream. He dropped his head to rest on your shoulder. “He talks about you all the time, y’know. He always used to, but it stopped last season, and we never knew why. Then all of a sudden after Christmas, it started again.” You ate your ice cream thoughtfully. “He’s so much happier now. We could have the worst fucking game ever, but he knows he has you again, so it’s okay.”

You rested your head on top of Burky’s. “I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. But, fuck, it feels good, it feels right, Bura.”

Burky hummed; his spoon scraped the bottom of the cardboard carton. “You’re out of ice cream,” he said. You flicked his nose. “I’m glad you’re back. We missed you,” he added softly. 

You knocked his hat off so you could play with his curls. They were grown out, and honestly you would take any excuse to play with them. He melted into you as you carded your fingers through his hair. He looked young sitting there on your couch, and you had to remind yourself that he was older than Nate, that he’d already won a Cup with the Caps.

André came over again to watch Game 2 with you, instead of watching alone from the press box. You sat curled into his chest on the couch, until Gabe scored a goal and he jumped up, knocking you off his lap and onto the floor. You had pouted at him as he helped you up, laughing his ass off, but from then on you just stretched your feet into his lap.

The Avs had won Games 1 and 2, and you could all feel the tension and frustration that San Jose was facing– you had all felt it yourselves just a couple of weeks before. Ashley’s nails dug into your arm as you watched Naz mouthing off to a Sharks player, his old beef with Joe Thornton spilling over, about to drop the gloves, but the refs stepped in– a couple of you booed a little, but Ashley’s grip just tightened– and it was over. Except it wasn’t, because then Naz got hit behind the play, and you were starting to think Ashley was drawing blood, even as Naz got up, albeit a little slowly, a little dazed. It wasn’t until he came back onto the ice for his next shift that she let go, but she did also sigh and say, “I need a stronger drink,” before swallowing the last of her wine in one big gulp.

They split the road games. The team plane landed in Denver in the late afternoon, and Nate came straight to your apartment to pick up Cox. He ended up coming inside and accidentally took a nap with you on the couch. He stayed for dinner, too, and only left reluctantly at the end of the night. 

Nate scored a hat trick in Game 5. You flung your hat down onto the ice with the rest of Pepsi Center, screaming with Mel as Gabe and Mikko tackled him to the ice. There was still time left on the clock, but it didn’t matter, because the game was as good as won.

 The Colorado Avalanche were going to the Stanley Cup Finals. 

Nate swept you up in a giant hug outside the locker room, spinning you around and squeezing you until you couldn’t breathe, but you never wanted to let go.

You reached up to cup his cheek– and that playoff beard that was still going very strong– and beamed at him. “I told you you could do this,” you told him, just see his grin turn shy. “And you owe me a new hat.”

“I will buy you any hat you want,” Nate promised, but then Josty swept past you and jammed a hat on your head. You took it off to look at it: Western Conference Champions. “But I kinda like the way that one looks on you. 

Nate asked you to come over the next night to watch the Eastern Conference Finals, Pens against the Flyers. He paced around the house through the entire pregame show, and you and Cox watched him, bemused, from the couch. 

“You good over there, babe?” you asked as Nate stood next to you and looked anywhere but the TV. 

“What if I don’t want the Pens to win this?” he blurted. You raised an eyebrow at him. “You know I love Sid, but I don’t know if I could handle facing him in the Finals.” 

You laughed a little and made him sit down on the couch next to you. “I’m sure Sid will forgive you,” you told him. 

He may not have wanted to face off against his best friend and childhood hero in the Cup Finals, but that didn’t stop him from cheering when Sid scored a goal, or cussing out Konecny for a dirty hit. It didn’t matter, though, because no matter how fast or angry the Pens were, the Flyers were faster and angrier. The Pens weren’t about to go down without a fight, but an empty net goal from Giroux with less than a minute left sealed their fate. Nate texted Sid an apology while you watched the teams shake hands on the ice, and you knew he meant it, but you could also see how he relaxed for the first time all night. 

Sid showed up in Denver with Nate’s family just before the Cup Finals started. 

“Didn’t feel like going home yet,” was the only excuse he offered, but you both knew how much it meant to Nate that he was there. 

Nate’s family stayed in a hotel, but Sid moved into the guest bedroom. A bunch of your things had started to migrate from your apartment and into that guest room, so you carried them into Nate’s bedroom. Nate watched with his arms crossed from the doorway, pretending to be stoic, but his cheeks were pink.

You were in the kitchen later, making lunch, when Nate came in and hovered near you. You bumped him out of the way with your hip.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“Do you wanna just stay over here during the Finals?” he mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring on his hoodie. “It’ll be easier, since you’re going to all the games and stuff, to just come over here at the end of the night.”

You looked up at him; he looked back at you from underneath his eyelashes. “Sure,” you replied, going back to making your lunch. You already had a toothbrush at Nate’s, anyway. “I’ll have to go get some clothes later, though.”

Nate mumbled a “Cool,” before kissing the top of your head and leaving.

Sid came in a minute later and raised his eyebrows at you. You just pointed your knife threateningly at him. 

You had never seen the Pepsi Center so loud. The noise had been deafening throughout the playoffs, but it had reached a fever pitch for the Cup Finals. Even when it was quiet, it wasn’t silent, a constant buzz of excited voices filling the arena.

You stood with the rest of the WAGs, in your jersey and denim jacket, Nate’s family and Sid by your side, and you caught yourself thinking that this was somewhere you wanted to be for the rest of your life. 

They lost Game 1, but Nate still smiled when you met him outside the locker room. He and EJ were both moving gingerly after a weird three-way collision with a Flyers player in the second. EJ still wrapped you in a hug, though, even if he groaned when Sammy plastered himself across his back. 

“You’re supposed to be our good luck charm, Y/N, what the fuck?” he teased. You dug your elbow into his bruised ribs in response. “Geez, I forgot how mean you are to all of us,” he said, rubbing his side. 

Nate laughed, settled his hands on your hips. You stuck your tongue out at EJ. 

“Wanna head home?”  he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Want me to drive?” you asked. Josty, who was walking past, stopped and raised his eyebrows, but JT dragged him away. Nate just pressed his keys into your hand. 

Nate wasn’t quiet on the drive home like you’d expected. He didn’t stop talking from the time the car door closed behind him until you pulled into his driveway. He complained about the Flyers, the refs, his own playing. It had been a while since Nate just let himself complain about hockey to you. It was nice to hear it again. 

Nate pulled you close in the dark that night, and you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, wearing one of his T-shirts. 

When they won Game 2, you thought the Can was going to explode. 

The team plane left the next morning for Philadelphia. All of the wives and girlfriends piled onto a plane of your own and followed them. You took a nap in Nate’s hotel room in a pile with Cale and Burky while Nate watched film.

The Flyers seemed more powerful in front of their own crowd. They hit harder and chirped meaner, and all of their fans in orange yelled for them. Nate left after a slash to the wrist in Game 3, and the Flyers used that to their advantage. He was back the next night, but the Flyers still took both home games.

Nate was tense when you made it home to Denver. You and Sid shared looks behind his back when he came home late from skate, or sat down immediately after dinner to watch game film again. He was still icing his wrist. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sid whispered to you as you both stood in the hallway and looked in on Nate. He had the TV on and his iPad in his lap and gave absolutely no indication that he knew you were watching him.

“I had to do this all last season,” you hissed back. “It’s your turn, Crosby!”

“You’re his girlfriend!”

“You’re his best friend!”

“I can hear you two,” Nate called, his eyes still not leaving the video in front of him. Okay, maybe your whispered argument with Sid wasn’t as quiet as you’d thought it was. “What time is it?”

Sid said, “Late,” at the same time you said, “Bedtime.” You looked at each other and tried not to burst out giggling. Nate sighed, but he turned off the TV and tossed his iPad onto the couch cushions. 

“I’ll meet you upstairs, yeah?” he said, kissing your forehead and holding up the now-melted ice pack he’d been using. You must’ve given him a skeptical look, because he chuckled and added, “I promise. And I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

You used Nate’s shoulder for balance as you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. As much as you loved the beard and the playoffs, you couldn’t wait for him to shave; you were getting tired of kissing that. 

If the Flyers thought they would have it easy coming back to Denver, that the Avalanche would go down without a fight, they were very much mistaken. In fact, there was an actual fight early in Game 5, between Farabee and Calvert, over who knows what, but it was enough to energize the Avs straight to 6 goals. They took the next game in Philly, too, though the score was a lot closer.

Soon, you were back in Denver, and it was the day before Game 7. Nate was quiet all day, and you and Sid mostly left him to himself. He went to practice, and you went to lunch with Sarah. You came home, and Nate was heading out for a run. 

You were taking your laundry out of the dryer and resigning yourself to going to bed alone when Nate came and found you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing himself along your back and burying his face in your neck. You rested your hands on his and leaned back into him

When he spoke, his beard tickled your neck. “I’m sorry I’ve been shitty, I’m just- what if we can’t win this?”

You turned in Nate’s arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You were still holding one of his socks. “No matter what happens tomorrow night, your family will still love you. Your team will still love you. Denver will still love you. I will still love you.” You pressed a kiss to Nate’s temple.

You stood there, in the middle of the laundry room, for several more minutes. When Nate pulled back, his eyes were shining, but neither of you said anything more.

Later that night, you pulled Nate into your chest in bed, letting him be the little spoon. He sighed contentedly and relaxed into you. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

As you were drifting off to sleep, you heard Nate whisper, “I love you, too.”

When Nate left for the game the next afternoon, he didn’t kiss you, but it was a near thing. You weren’t sure what was holding you back anymore. You liked that Nate seemed to be waiting for you to decide. 

Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final was the most stressed you’d ever felt. You wanted to live in the moment forever. 

Sid sat next to you and let you squeeze his arm when you got nervous. Mel was on your other side, and she smacked you every time Nate or Gabe touched the puck, which was often, as if your eyes weren’t glued to the ice every second. Someone brought you a beer during the first intermission, but it went mostly untouched.

The game was a tame one, or about as tame as a Game 7 in the Stanley Cup Finals could be. Penalties went uncalled, and tempers were flaring. It was tied going into the second, and then again going into the third, even though both teams scored two more goals in the second period. Your hand was beginning to cramp from where you held onto Sid’s forearm, but all he did was take your hand in his after a while; you kept squeezing until you were sure even his fingers were numb.

And then Giroux high-sticked Gabe and made him bleed. There was no looking the other way from that, Giroux was sent to the box with a double minor, and suddenly the Avs were on a power play halfway through the third period. They didn’t need the full four minutes, though. They didn’t even need a full minute before Nate was on a breakaway, and the puck was up above Hart’s shoulder and safely in the net between one breath and the next. 

You screamed with the rest of Pepsi Center, but yours were mixed with a few tears, too.

You still didn’t relax, felt like you couldn’t breathe, because it wasn’t over until that final buzzer. 

You watched the clock tick down above center ice. Twenty seconds; you were on the edge of your seat. Ten seconds; you were on your feet. Five seconds; you were screaming. Zero seconds; you were hugging Mel and Sid and anyone else you could get your arms around.

You weren’t sure if you were screaming or crying, anymore. Nate looked up to where you were sitting, and you were sure you’d never seen him smile that big before. 

The Flyers filed off the ice, and you spared a half second to feel bad, because they had wanted this just as badly, but then you saw Nate and André hugging and yelling in each other’s faces. You thought about everything you’d gone through the last two seasons, and you thought that, just maybe, the Avalanche deserved this. 

A hush fell over the arena as Gabe skated over to pick up the Cup, but it exploded again as he lifted it over his head for the first time. When he handed it off to Nate next, and Nate kissed it before lifting it over his head, you were definitely crying, but you also couldn’t stop smiling. 

Everyone insisted that you come down to the ice, though a part of you wondered if you still counted, if you deserved to be there, too. Nate was hanging off of EJ when you stepped onto the ice with his parents, but he looked up and saw you. His face split into an even bigger grin than before. Without thinking, really, you launched yourself at Nate, and then you were both tumbling to the ice. 

Nate was sweaty and still entirely in all of his pads, but his arms were wrapped around you and that was all that mattered. You thought he was going to kiss you lying there on the ice, but he didn’t, just helped you up and let you latch onto him again.

“I am so fucking proud of you, Nathan MacKinnon,” you yelled in his ear, standing at center ice.

Nate went home to Cole Harbour, and you stayed in Denver. Except this summer, he texted you every day and called you most nights. From his couch with Cox by his side, from the dock under the stars, from Sid’s deck with a couple of beers. Not a day went by where you didn’t talk to Nate. 

You missed him, and you loved him, but this summer it was different. You wished you’d told him before he left, but there had been parties, and a parade, and a lot of alcohol, and it had never seemed like the right time. So you’d stayed quiet, resisted the urge to kiss Nate in front of all of Denver, to tell the world that he was yours, that your heart was his. 

You missed him, and you loved him, and you had to hold yourself back from ending every phone call with those three words, because he was in another country halfway across the continent, and it wouldn’t feel right to say it unless you were in his arms. 

You wondered if he knew, when you fell silent on FaceTime and just watched him talk with a smile on your face. You wondered if he could see the love in your eyes again, if it had ever really gone away. 

You wondered if, somehow, you’d missed your chance. 

Nate’s day with the Cup came in the beginning of August. He asked if you would come. You told him you couldn’t get off work. 

You booked a plane ticket to Halifax. 

You made Sid come pick you up from the airport. He didn’t love that he was being forced to keep a secret from Nate, but he gave you a warm hug when he saw you anyway. 

“Do you know what you’re gonna say?” he asked after you’d climbed into his truck and were making your way towards Nate’s house. 

You laughed. Sid had rolled the windows down, and your hair blew out the window and into the August air. “Nope. I’ve been thinking about this all summer, I flew all the way out here, and I have no clue what I’m going to say to Nate. ‘Surprise? I love you!’ What if he doesn’t even want me here?”

Sid scoffed. You turned to glare at him. “I have had to listen to Nate complain every single day that you’re not here. It got worse after you lied and told him that you weren’t coming for tomorrow. At one point, he even pretended to be offended that you wouldn’t even come for my birthday.” He took his eyes off the road to look at you. “Nate wants you here, Y/N. Hell, I think you’re the only person he wants here.”

You played with your necklace; it was the necklace Nate had given you a lifetime ago. Sid’s gaze followed your fingers. “I just wasn’t sure for so long, Sid. What if I made him wait too long? What if he moved on?”

“I promise you, he hasn’t. I don’t think he ever would.”

Sid pulled up in front of Nate’s house then, put his truck in park, turned to look at you. You didn’t move. The sun was just starting to set over the lake, turning the sky gold and pink. 

“Get out of my car, Y/N,” Sid said softly. “He’s probably around back.”

You sighed one last time and unbuckled your seatbelt, closing the car door softly behind you. You made your way quietly around the house, hoping Cox wouldn’t bark at you. You found Nate sitting in an adirondack chair near the water and started to head towards him when you had an idea. 

You pulled your phone out and opened Nate’s contact. You didn’t hesitate before pressing the call button. You heard his FaceTime ring once, twice before the call connected and his face filled your phone screen. 

“Hey, Y/N! I was just about to call you actually,” Nate said, grinning at you. 

You suddenly hoped that you didn’t look like too much of a mess after your five hour flight. 

Nate squinted at his phone, at you. “Where are you? The sun shouldn’t be setting in Denver yet.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m, uh, not in Denver,” you said. Nate looked confused; you had started walking towards him again, were nearly right behind him. 

You would make fun of him for not realizing you were standing right behind him later. 

“Then where-” Nate cut himself off. He jumped up from his chair and spun around, finally saw you standing there. There, in Cole Harbour. 

You barely had time to hang up the call before Nate was tackling you to the grass in a hug. 

“Oof, Nate, babe, you’re crushing me a little.”

“Don’t care. You’re here!” Nate said back. Then he pushed himself up a little, rested his weight on his hands. “You’re here. What’re you doing here? I thought you said-“

You laughed, and it echoed off the quiet lake. “I decided to surprise you.”

Nate brushed your hair out of your face and rested his hand on your cheek before dipping back down and pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re really here.”

You turned your head to kiss his palm. “Yeah, Nate. I’m here.”

Nate smiled dumbly down at you for a few more minutes. If you didn’t look a mess before, you certainly did now, sprawled out on the ground in sweatpants and a T-shirt, grass in your hair. You raised your own hand to cup Nate’s cheek. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, rested it against your palm.

The sun was still setting, and you could see the sky turning colors over his head. Nate rolled off of you and settled in the grass next to you. You reached over and grabbed his hand, twining your fingers together. Above you, the sky was all kinds of pinks and purples and blues. 

“I’ve been thinking,” you said. Nate stiffened next to you. “I asked you to be patient with me. I said I couldn’t jump in headfirst. And you’ve been so good, so sweet. You’ve let me make all the decisions this time around. And you’ve waited on me for so long.”

“I would wait forever,” Nate breathed. You huffed out a laugh.

“Well, here’s the thing.” Nate looked away from the sky for the first time since you started talking and looked over at you. You rolled, pushing yourself up to straddle Nate’s hips. He propped himself up on his elbows, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, looking into Nate’s eyes. He looked apprehensive, but quietly hopeful. “I’m done waiting. I love you, Nate. I’m not sure I ever stopped. I needed you to prove that I could believe in you again. And, God, that’s all you’ve done since Christmas. From Cox, to the FaceTimes, to all of our little dates. Through the playoffs. I spent all summer wishing I’d said something before you left, stopping myself from saying something every time we talked on the phone.”

Nate’s hands had come up to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin underneath your T-shirt. He still was looking at you like everything you were saying was too good to be true. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

You had enough time to nod and laugh before Nate was leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. It was familiar and new and exhilarating all at once. It felt like coming home.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed Nate, or how long you’d been wanting, dreaming, wishing for it again. It didn’t matter anymore, though, because Nate was squeezing your hips and kissing you slowly, deeply. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he never wanted to be doing anything else. 

He eventually pulled away for air, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing in the small space between you.

“I love you so much, Y/N. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do that again.” He kissed you again, just a quick peck. “And now I’m never, ever gonna stop.” He started pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, before coming back and kissing your lips again. 

The sun had set fully by now, and you shivered. Nate was still radiating heat, and he rubbed his hands over your bare arms. 

“Do you wanna go inside?” he asked. You shook your head, tilting your head back to look up at the stars as they appeared. “Okay, well let me go get you a sweatshirt or a blanket or something.” He tapped your thigh, and you climbed off his lap and stretched. 

Nate made his way back up to the house, and you wandered out to the end of the dock. The water was warm when you dipped your feet in. 

It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before you heard Nate’s footsteps in the grass again. You turned and saw him carrying a familiar sweatshirt from your college. 

“Hey, wait that’s mine!” you said. 

Nate blushed. “I, uh, found it last summer, and never really gave it back.”

You grinned at Nate as you pulled the sweatshirt over your head. It smelled like him. “I just thought I left it at your house, and you got rid of it or something. But apparently you’ve been wearing it,” you teased. 

Nate blushed darker. “I sleep with it, sometimes,” he admitted. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore, but I still like it.”

You laughed. “Aw, you really are going soft, Mack.”

Nate just grabbed your hand and tugged you closer so he could kiss you again. 

“I really believed you when you said you weren’t coming for tomorrow, y’know,” Nate said quietly. “I was trying to figure out how I’d fucked up, what I’d done to make you pull away.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and played with his hand in your lap. “I always wanted to be here for your day with the Cup. I need you to know, to understand, how proud of you I am, how proud of you I’ve always been. At first, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to come-” Nate scoffed; you elbowed him. “But then I started figuring out how I could surprise you. Besides, I missed this place.” You waved your hand vaguely towards Nate’s house and the lake. “And you, I guess,” you added.

Nate bumped your head with his shoulder. “How did you get here, anyway?” he asked.

“Sid,” you said simply.

Nate groaned. “I hate him. He told me he couldn’t golf today because he got guilted into spending time with Taylor!”

You both fell silent, just watching the stars and listening to the cicadas and frogs. 

“Hey, what did you wish for on that shooting star we saw?” you asked suddenly, your head still resting on Nate’s shoulder.

Nate looked confused for a moment before he softened. “This,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I wanted exactly this, for you to be happy, for us to be together.” You looked up at him, and he kissed you softly again. “Winning the Cup was a nice bonus,” he added, grinning at you. 

You shoved at Nate, but it didn’t really do much. “You’re an idiot,” you said, but you were smiling fondly at him, so it kind of ruined the effect. 

“Yeah, but you love me,” he responded, pulling you into a sideways hug.

“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

You fell asleep next to Nate, which wasn’t new, but the kiss he gave you before you closed your eyes was. 

You spent the next day with Nate, his family, and the Cup. Sid took every opportunity to talk about how good Nate is, how proud he was. You were pretty sure it was mostly just to see how flustered Nate got every single time. How he’d splutter and blush and struggle to change the subject, but someone always brought it back to hockey, because how could you not, when you were standing next to the Stanley Cup? Whenever Nate wasn’t holding the Cup with both hands, his hand was in yours, or on your hip, or at the small of your back. He would never admit it, but you could tell he was absolutely having the time of his life, basking in the glory and the attention. No longer just the second best thing to come out of Cole Harbour, if even for a moment. For the first time, Nate was in the spotlight.

And you were right by his side the whole time, in every picture, in every memory. 

That night, after everyone had gone home and the Cup had moved on, you sat next to Nate on the couch with Cox as he went through pictures that had been taken that day. Ten minutes later, your phone lit up with an Instagram notification: @mackinnnon29 tagged you in a post. You looked sideways at Nate, but his phone was down and his eyes were on the TV. You unlocked your phone.

There were two pictures on the post. Both were of you and Nate, the Cup hoisted high over his head, glinting in the sun. In the first you were just gazing up at Nate while he grinned down at you, a loving smile of your own on your face; in the second, you were kissing, your hand on his shoulder.

His caption was simple: I’ve got everything I could ever need right here next to me.

#cait writes things #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[redlyncentral]

High school musical, the musical, the convention, the book, my reaction.

- LMFAO ASH CALLING EJ OLD

- EJ TAKES ARCHERY LESSONS??? CASWELL COUSINS NEVER SLEEP IT'S CONFIRMED.

- "Remember what miss Jenn always says?"

"trust the process?"

"Nope, 'is that the last apple?'"

- NOT EJ CALLING NINI THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE

- "I give her my most feminist-fierce look"

- Gina listens to k-pop? I love that! Bet she's a huge blackpink fan like her actress.

- I can't believe they said Gina and ash who are both confirmed sophomores are in different school years???

- Ricky should have a dog. That's an observation I made. Like a big fluffy brown one.

- ej taking his own car to Wyoming because he doesn't want to get stuck with singing theatre kids. icon

- "not only women changed the world" big red would NEVER say that.

- "aren't we all animals?" oh ricky bowen, great beast foreshadowing btw

- Carlos is such a leo.

- so many things we first saw or heard of in s2 were established here like Salt lake slices, Ricky spending the vacation at his dad's etc.

- SANDY SOUNDS LIKE A DOUCHE ALREADY. LOVE WHEN BOOKS HAVE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.

- "it takes my mind off ashlyn" oh he IN LOVE in love!!! Good for him!!!

- "I still can't believe we [kissed]" BELIEVE IT UR GONNA DATE IN LIKE TWO WEEKS???

- "I really like ashlyn" he went from that to "[me liking Ashlyn is the] understatement of the year". GOOD FOR HIM!!!

- "girls are mysteries" DUDE!!! SHE KISSED YOU!!! SHE VERY MUCH LIKES YOU!!!

- "What if she changed her mind [about the kiss] LISTEN. I'M ABOUT TO FIND A WAY TO ENTER THIS FICTIONAL BOOK AND TELL U ABOUT HOW S2 IS GONNA GO.

- BIG RED TRYING TO TEXT ASH. HE HAS MY WHOLE HEART.

- SIX ATTEMPTS? BABY JUST BE YOURSELF SHE LOVES U ALREADY

- NOT BIG RED NOT GOING TO THE CONVENTION!!! MRS REDONOVICH I CAN FILL IN FOR HIM!!!

- Miss Jenn had her driver's license since 2000 and she's 35 in 2020. I'll calculate that later.

- "Kourtney and I have a lunch date" POTTS FAMILY RIGHTS!!!

- "big red said-" yup kourtney and big red pizzaria besties so true.

- I'm genuinely excited seeing some friendships again okay

- sebbie ilysm. pls be my friend.

- EJ TAKES ARCHERY CLASSES, WAS A BOY SCOUT AND IS SENIOR CLASS TREASURER??? WHAT DOESN'T HE DO??? (SLEEP.)

- ok nini and ej are on good terms now. It was never really talked about in the show after they broke up

- TWO OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS NOT GOING. *enter the 'not this' video"

- Ok so everyone know that ej bought Gina the plane ticket or just Nini? How does she know, exactly?

- Ashlyn got new crystals after giving hers away to Miss Jenn. It's good to know though it's not crucial.

- the way they don't work yet because they're not charged w energy. pls

- "I'm beginning to think they're just pretty rocks" maybe u bought fake ones???

- the way ashlyns like "oh it's snowing? maybe we should huddle for warmth" like twice in the series. She's such a hugger 💞

- weird text from big red, huh. Maybe you should text him again 👀

- ASH HE'S IN LOVE W U AND SCARED TO RUIN THINGS

- "this is life, not a rehearsal" CARLOS WOULD N E V E R SAY THAT.

- Miss Jenn being petty and not sharing her room is kind of a mood.

- seblos facetime 💗

- frozen reference? Interesting.

- Ricky writing a song named "confusion"... 👀

- RICARLOS FRIENDSHIP.

- ASHLYN TALKING ABOUT BIG RED YES.

- I get that big red was worried but he should've texted ash back.

- Gina. Tell ash to send that text. I'M BEGGING YOU.

- "you're telling him by texting that you're crazy about him". she's in love with him. Let her.

- OK SHE SAID THEY KISSED. Gina is 100% aware okay

- not CHASE. Gina. Have you MET big red???

- ofc ash suggests snow angels 😭 I love her

- kourt ily pls stop doubting urself u can be multitalented and proud of it

- big red stalking ash's socials because he feels bad for not going to the convention 😭

- omg no I don't want him to feel bad ash pls text him

- NOT A GAME! THESE ARE TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE. GINA.

- SHE'S TEXTING HIM!!! AHH.

- could you tell i love redlyn?

- gina pls just be urself and give ash your true thoughts

- SHE'S NOT TEXTING HIM. ASHLYN MOON CASWELL-

- Mr mazzara has been whipped for two seasons now wbk

- EJ ACCIDENTALLY GOING TO A MEDITATION CONVENTION 😭 ASH WOULD BE SO PROUD

- EJ IS FINALLY HERE IN PERSON.

- chapter twenty four. There's only five ash and big red chapters until chapter FORTY NINTH. help.

- Carlos missing Seb is adorable

- they're really into frozen I see

- everyone's treating EJ like he's so old 😭

- "almost all of [the theater kids] seem to be having some kind of personal crisis, emotional turmoil or explosion of self-doubt"... Yeah, are you new?

- NOT BIG RED BEING ABLE TO GO TO THE CONVENTION TOO LATE. EXCUSE ME MRS REDONOVICH.

- BIG RED YOU DUMBASS YOU HAVE A CAR.

- NOT BIG RED USING EMOJIS-

- "Hasn't he got a million cousins?" KNEW IT. I FUCKING CALLED IT IN MY PASSOVER FIC. I'M SO HAPPY

- Ashlyn also has a big family? Oh, their wedding is gonna be MASSIVE

- EJ PICKING UP HIS FUTURE COUSIN IN LAW 😭😭😭 platonic redj has my heart.

- "I guess hey is word of the week" ash is such a caswell 😭

- not ash being cold about him coming there like she's happy but duddukfd

- I get why she's annoyed but. UGH. Not redlyn angst. My heart can't handle this.

- kourt you are very much an advanced singer pls

- ash and gina taking a bad workshop is so funny pls

- kourt 😭

- NOT RICKY IN THE BET ON IT WORKSHOP.

- diane... Interesting.

- awe kourtney getting the validation she deserves!!! Good for her!!!

- "wildcat it up".

- NOT AVOID ASHLYN. BIG RED.

- okay he can't ignore her. Good.

- Ashlyn why are you acting brand new Ricky told u this 😭

- why is gina ignoring big red.

- big red not knowing what epiphany means 😭

- not big red regretting this already. Hi dummies pls communicate it hurts to read

- thank god they learned from this for 2x08

- Ricky pls ask big red about Ashlyn.

- awe Lucas and Nini met!!!

- I wanna hug Carlos, like, poor thing. He didn't get to participate in the workshops or spend time with his boyfriend.

- "I can't even pretend to understand [what's going on with big red and Ashlyn]" Ricky. Ur a bad friend. Sorry not sorry.

- caswen... 👀

- Ricky being Gabriella. So true

- "we're drama kids. Our imaginations are out of control"

- STAY FOR THE SING-A-LONG. HAVE FUN U DUMMIES.

- THEY WROTE A SONG FOR KOURT!!! 🥺 WHAT SHE DESERVES

- MY KIDS ARE FINALLY COMMUNICATING!!! FINALLY. UGH.

- they love each other I'm really glad this was resolved

- Natalie getting offended by being accused of being her emotional support rodents to the convention as she should be. I have ones too. It's no joking matter.

- SEB!!!

- ahh seblos reunited!!!

- ej having unexpected friendship w Seb and red. My rights tbh

- Carlos and EJ hug??? I need it now

- okay finished it!!! It was. A cute read.

#paz takes #hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #hsmtmts the road trip #the road trip spoilers #this was A LOT #redlyn was. wow

[domesticmail]

maybe a blurb with erik where the readers insecure about...something you choose & he comforts her

or maybe the other way around (aka reader comforting him)👀

okay for your consideration: a blurb that turned into more than a blurb but less than a fic, featuring my intense need to feel love & affection

ej has never been one to read the articles about him, or about the team, or any of his teammates. he’s never been the type to need or want to know what others are saying about him - he is strong in his sense of self, he knows he’s a good player, and he doesn’t need to listen to other people’s opinions.

but when tyson and andre get into a “who has the most negative tweets about them” competition, they prod their teammates into it, too. it began as a joke, but soon everyone had started keeping track of how well-loved they were on the popular app, and it became a running joke that - 

the majority of tweets involving ej, mostly commented on his teeth.

gabe was winning, naturally, with the least negative tweets discovered after a week of searching - 25.

tyson was second, with 33.

andre followed tyson at 35.

and all the way at the bottom of the list was ej, with 124. 

it was demeaning, to say the least. he loved the fans and his interaction with them, but it felt like every time he got onto twitter, all he would see was more and more comments about his teeth, and how gross they were, and how disgusting he must be since he’s a grown man missing teeth.

and look, ej is strong, but that day, he could only take so much.

when his alarm went off in the morning, warning him to get up for his daily run (even though it was an off day), he simply stopped it and turned back to you, maneuvering himself to press up against your back. he pressed a kiss to your hair and rested his head above yours.

curious, you opened your eyes. it was severely unlike him to miss out on a run. “good morning, honey.”

he grunted in response. not too uncommon.

you shifted against him. your hand reached down to your waist to interlace your fingers with his. you felt him press his lips to the back of your head, then to the back of your neck, and around to the curve where your neck met your shoulders. goosebumps broke out around the space where his kiss met your skin, and you wiggled your shoulder playfully. in response, he merely removed his hand from yours, tucked stray hairs behind your ear, and kissed gently just above your jaw.

while you loved him, this type of romantic behavior in the mornings was practically unheard of. he was notoriously difficult to keep in bed in the mornings, and even when you accomplished that sort of feat, the morning would be spent...differently, to say the least. this sort of gentle, soft affection was nearly impossible to receive from him in the mornings, and yet here he was, trailing soft kisses along your exposed skin and ignoring his alarm.

“ej,” you murmured carefully, hand reaching up to tangle in his hair.

“mmm?” he hummed into your neck. 

he nipped playfully below your ear as you asked, “is something wrong?”

the question gave him pause for a moment. you felt him exhale hard, then lean his forehead against the side of yours. “nothing. just some stupid thing the team is doing.”

“what is it?”

“nothing to worry about,” he mumbled, punctuating each word with a kiss to your shoulder, his hand on your arm. 

you craned your neck to look at him, meeting his eyes. “ej,” you said softly.

something in him loosened at the sound of his name from your mouth. it absolutely tore him to shreds, the way he felt watching you pronounce two easy letters, the meaning they carried evident in how delicately you said them. while the occasion was less than perfect, a small part of him still delighted in watching you place such significance on his name. 

he pulled his gaze away from you with much effort. “it’s silly.”

you moved to lay flat on your back, so you could look at him easier. the hand on your shoulder found its way to the flat of your stomach, and you trailed your hand up his arm, stopping to rest on his bicep. you gave it a gentle squeeze as you said, “not to me.” his eyes met yours for a moment, and he froze.

oh, how you softened him.

“everyone’s been looking at twitter lately, counting how many bad tweets there are about them,” he admitted, looking away from you again. “and i...i have the most. which normally i wouldn’t care about, because i don’t-” he cleared his throat self-consciously, seemingly steeling himself, “i don’t care about that kind of thing, but...it doesn’t feel good.”

when he caught your gaze again, the love your expression radiated was almost too much for him to bear. your hand came up to cradle the left side of his face, and he leaned into it, into your touch, into love.

“oh, honey,” you breathed. the sadness lining your tone hit him square in the chest.

“it’s stupid, i know -” he began to backtrack, but you stopped him quickly, interrupting him.

“it’s not stupid,” you insisted. “i don’t know how it feels, but i understand. reading tons of negative comments about yourself always hurts.”

he nodded. you sat up in bed, brows furrowed, thumb caressing his cheek. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault. it was a dumb decision to play along.”

“no. you were just doing what the rest of the team was doing, bub. there’s no shame in that.”

he sighed. “i still feel like an idiot.”

you leaned forward and kissed his forehead lightly. “you’re not an idiot.”

“i know.”

there was a moment of silence while you looked at each other, two twin gazes of equal love and respect, admiring each other in a quiet moment.

“let’s just spend the morning in bed,” you offered.

he couldn’t have said it better.

send in your Thoughts about erik johnson and/or pierre luc dubois!

#erik johnson #erik johnson x reader

[ejlovespie]

My Thoughts

Extended Author’s Note for ‘I Love You & I Hate You So Much’

**Warnings: I get personal talking a little bit about my own mental health struggles. Go ahead and skip reading this if that is a trigger for you or you’re just uninterested. <3

Hi Friends,

I wanted to give some of my own feedback and commentary on a fic series I finished and posted this afternoon. The series is ‘I Love You & I Hate You So Much’ and it’s a three part-angst fest. I received this request a while back and knew from how detailed it was, that I would have either a VERY long one shot or I would have to make it into a series. When I started, I wrote this almost exactly as was requested, but by the end of it, I deviated a bit. If you haven’t read the series yet, I won’t give any spoilers here, but the fic is very angsty and dramatic. I would also say that you see a side of Dean that you don’t see often, especially, in fanfiction. He’s not our hero in this story. Before I go on, here are the links to read the series if you would like to pause and catch up. If not, no worries, I won’t spoil anything.

Part 1 -  Part 2  -  Part 3

Anyway, writing this was a challenge for me for a few reasons. I think the biggest challenge was that this particular story made me realize that as a writer, my characters come to life and take on their own personality and temperaments. I think every writer puts some of themself in a story but by the end, their characters aren’t them. They may have pieces and parts that are similar but a character is their own person, albeit fictional one. Of course, I knew this but I never thought about it this deeply before. For example, if I receive a request for a reader to complete a certain task or act a certain way with other characters, I try to think about the why behind it. What happened in their past to make them behave this way? What makes this character tick? I try to put myself in this person’s shoes and see life differently.  

With that being said, I struggled with writing this particular story because I couldn’t relate to the reader or with the events that happened at all. As I wrote, there were arguments, things that were said, that I would never handle in the same way in my own relationships. Specific actions were taken that I would never have done myself but as I wrote, it felt natural to write it that way for the reader. Also, as I said before, you see a side of Dean that I found to be really difficult to describe because my instinct is for our beloved Winchester to be the good guy, without fail, all the time. (Well, maybe except for demon Dean!) 

Out of all of my works, this particular series has received the longest, most thought out and opinionated, commentary. And I think that is mainly because of Dean’s words and actions, as well as, the events that happen in the story. With that being said, I love that something I have written made so many people think and feel so many different emotions. I really enjoy reading your guys’ comments and all of the different perspectives and opinions. It’s so exciting to me when someone takes the time to do it, even if I don’t agree with what was said. 

Another reason I found this to be difficult to write was my mental and emotional state. I love reading and writing dark and angsty stories but this one got to me quite a bit. Like many others, I struggle with depression and anxiety on a daily basis. I also have a very low opinion of myself and am always my biggest critic. I have struggled with body image and low self-esteem issues since I was kid, hence my low opinion. As I have gotten older, my low opinions have migrated away from the physical and are mostly internal. You know, the “I’m stupid or I don’t matter” thoughts. Anyway, when I left my job a few weeks ago it only took a few days for me to feel restless and uneasy. Did I make the right decision? What am I going to do now? I kept busy with housework, writing, working on my website, and doing research but still felt like a failure because I wasn’t making money. I started to get lost in my head and my own self loathing because I felt like a burden. I’m not doing enough. I’m not contributing financially. By the way, If you’re still reading this, I want you to know that I’m okay, or at least I will be. The point of me sharing all this is that I have been in a dark place and writing a dark and angsty fic with what’s going on in my head was really hard. (I almost deleted this whole paragraph but screw it. We should talk about mental health more, not less. So there it is.) 

Anyways, even as I finished the series, I wasn’t satisfied. I had/have my own thoughts and opinions on the events that happened and how Dean and the reader treated each other. As I wrote it, a big part of me was saying “No! They forgave too fast, too easily! She needs to fight more!” but my writer’s brain told me to look at the events in the readers eyes. It wasn’t about me or my thoughts, it was about her and what she needed and/or wanted. (I hope that makes sense.) Also, my intention was to leave the ending a little ambiguous. Will they work it out and get back together again? Will they just stay friends? Or maybe, will they accept each other’s apologies but go their separate ways? I don’t know, so you can decide! 

So there are my thoughts without giving any spoilers away. It was a rough ride and I don’t even know how I feel about the ending yet but I wanted to thank you guys. Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and thank you for your messages, comments, reblogs, and recommendations. I love you all so much, more than you know, and I appreciate each and every one of you. 

P.S. I wrote what I call a brain cleanser. It’s a short oneshot called “Moving In.” It’s silly and fun with no character pairings or major plot. Also, I left it gender non-specific because, why not? There should be more fics like that and I’m trying to branch out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. It’s scheduled to post tomorrow, 4/20, at 6 AM. 

Once again, I love you all. Thank you for driving me to create and remember, if you struggle with any kind of mental illness, always keep fighting. 

xoxo -EJ

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn fanfiction #spn angst #spn writers #authors note #mental health

[ravens-words]

write a love letter to your favourite blog!

I love you EJ!! 💜

I love you too, S!! (I have to admit, I though the I love you was your love letter to me and almost posted, then I realized what this was)

There are so many of you that I love, it's tough choosing just one, but if I had to...

Okay, I suck at words, but bear with me.

@tkstrrand Meme Queen- I love you. You're one of the sweetest, kindest, funniest and most talented people I know. I'm so glad the mess that was RNM S2 brought us together, and I'm so so HAPPY that Tarlos brought us closer. I'm so grateful to have you in my life. Your support gave me the push I needed to post my Tarlos fics (without you, none of the 26 Tarlos fics would have been posted, I'm 100% serious) and through you I found some of the best people (aka the 126 discord family).

Thank you for being the best friend ever, thank you for listening to my rambles about the abominations that are TK's FUCKING shirts, and thank you for being there .

I love you, you ray of sunshine ☀️💛

Fill My Inbox

#ejanswers

[boqvistsbabe]

Sam’s End of the Year Appreciation Post

Y’all this year has felt like it has gone on forever. A lot of people, including myself, have had a very hard year between just normal life and then staying at home all the time at home with your family. Sometimes being with your family isn’t the best place for some people. I know a lot of peoples mental health dropped low over this year. I know mine has. This year has been a cluster fuck for me honestly. Between just terrible mental health before and then being in a toxic environment with some of the people I live with and their views on things. And school just well it’s school and not great. I’m just glad I made it through and I’m proud of all of you that struggled this year and are here with us. One of the biggest things that has gotten me through this year is all of you. Whether we talk everyday or every other day or not even at all, you’ve helped me more than you can understand and I’m so thankful for all of you. All of you have impacted my life so much in such a good way and I thank all of you for that.

And like I said I know this year wasn’t only hard for just me, almost people struggled a lot this year. I just want all of you to know no matter what I am here for you. Whether I know you or not if you ever need to come rant to me or you just need somebody to talk to I am always here. I know a lot of people don’t have the best living situations and it is really toxic for them. Just know that I love you no matter who you are I love each and every single one of you. I don’t care what others say, I love you for you and don’t change you for someone else. You are beautiful and amazing and perfect just the way you are. I am ALWAYS here for you if you need me, just message me or talk to me through asks I don’t care, I want to be there for you and I am here for you all. I love you all.

I am also here if you don’t have anything to talk about and you want to be friends. Chances are I probably want to be friends with you too I just have been too nervous to say hi. I want to be friends with so many of you but my social anxiety says no to that and that’s something I’m trying to change this upcoming year. I want to be friends with all of you. So many of you are just so cool and I’m finally getting the nerve to talk to you. So thanks for dealing with my socially awkward self.

I hope everyone has an amazing new year and that it is better than this year was. I love you all!!

@flaminmtl @royaltyofhockeylosers @highestqualitybrash @barzysstuff @leafsbabe

I hope to become better friends with you all!!

@dunnwithlyfe G I love you so much, I’m so glad we started talking. I’m glad that we’ve become so close over a short time. You are so funny and amazing to talk to. I’m glad you reached out. I can’t wait till we become the amazing wags the we are meant to be. I’m always here for you and I love you so much!!!

@jamiedrysdales Ari hi so I know we don’t really talk but I am very happy to have ever held a conversation with you because you are literally so cool. Thanks for being a friend and supporting me m. And I’m the new fic writer previously lonely anon so thank you for encouraging me to write. I hope we can become better friends.

@kempe Hi Zoë I know we’ve never never talked outside of anon. I’m the pld/ej previously lonely anon and I’m glad have talked about PLD and EJ with you lol. Thank you for being a friend when I felt lonely and for talking to me. I plan on trying to become better friends with you hopefully.

@tysjostys Caitee I know we also haven’t talked more than a few times, and I hope to change that because you are so cool. I hope we can become better friends.

@makarsy hi Sophie so I know we’ve never talked before but I hope to become friends with you because honestly you have such a great vibe.

@thatflyersfan & @scheifefe I love you my tall queens and I hope to become better friends with both of you!!

#tumblr friends

[retvenkos]

amends pt. 4 // ricky bowen

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series - Slow Burn Ricky Bowen x Stage Manager!Reader Fic. Summary: That’s asking a lot of the theatre gods. Then again, it does include a lot of drama, so maybe it might just work out. pt. 1 // pt. 2 // pt. 3 // pt. 4 // pt. 5 // pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8 // pt. 8.5-ish // pt. 9 //  unfinished

To say that you had been having a hectic week was a gross oversimplification. Ricky and Nini drama aside, the entire main cast was at each other's throats. Gina was sabotaging Nini by making the role of Gabriella an oversaturated triple threat with dances that were impossible to memorize, Ricky and EJ were trying to give each other concussions with basketballs, and at any given moment, all four of them would jump at each other’s throats to secure the lead. Part of you was glad that you never became an actor yourself. Underhanded tricks and backstabbing blows were not things that you were eager to have on a daily basis. That doesn’t stop you from being in the middle, though. Perks of being in charge! You get to deal with everyone’s drama.

To top it all off, you had two essays due the next day, and you had only started on one.

The only one thriving was Seb, who was perfect every time you saw him - onstage and off. You tried to figure out what his secret was, but according to Carlos, there wasn’t one. Perfection simply happens to ‘unproblematic cinnamon rolls’ naturally. What a concept.

But all shows hit stormy, turbulent waters at some point in the rehearsal process. Hopefully, it would be smooth sailing from that moment onward. You didn’t think you could handle much more. That’s why you were so relieved when you got a text from Ricky’s friend, Big Red, asking if he could be a part of the crew. An extra pair of hands was just the thing you needed.

Turning the corner to where Carlos had said rehearsal was going to start, you almost ran into a few, wide-eyed ensemble members. It was only after you started to weave your way to the front of the group that you realized why they had looked so shaken.

Nini and EJ. Standing a few paces away from the group, a pointed space between them as they argued. Their voices were low, but any conversation that had been happening in the hallway had stopped as everyone listened to them with bated breath. You moved to stand next to Big Red, vowing to talk to him after you finished listening to what happened between Nini and EJ. In your defense, it was your job to know what was happening between your leads chemistry wise. After all, Ricky had texted you to let you know that he was going to be late to rehearsal (it was a group text to you, Carlos, and Miss Jen. It’s not like he had any reason to text you personally. It’s not like the two of you had been texting all week and he was the only reason you were sane or anything…). So Nini and EJ were going to have to be Troy and Gabriella, and this betrayal of trust was complicating things.

“Summer’s over.” The tension in the hallway was palpable. Nini’s face was set in harsh lines, and although you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine his eyes widening in panic as his jaw worked soundlessly, trying to come up with an answer.

You turned to Seb as he pretended to be reading from his binder. He looked at you, his head never moving. “Are they…?” you whispered, trying to remain inconspicuous as Nini now faced the group. His nod was almost nonexistent, but the look in his eyes told you everything. Great. So much for clear skies and smooth sailing. You looked at how EJ looked at Nini longingly, the realization of how badly he messed up dawning on his face. Then you looked at Nini, her face solid stone while her head and heart raged within. A hurricane was coming, that much was certain.

Carlos and Natalie ran out of the room that everyone was waiting outside of, effectively disrupting the dark mood that hung in the air. You took that as your cue to start getting Big Red up to speed on where the musical was. If there was going to be a disaster, you needed all hands on deck.

…

“Since when was blocking like going to hell in a handbasket?” Gina chuckled slightly at your remark as you watched scene seven of your beloved musical crash and burn. Well, not the entirety of scene seven. The first part was great. The ensemble did a killer job being comically terrible at their audition. They Sharpay and Ryan audition was ridiculously good, and Ashlyn killed it as Ms. Darbus. But then it happened. Miss Jen (insisting on using the names of the characters) ushered Sharpay and Ryan offstage and called for Troy and Gabriella to enter stage left. That’s when it all started to go downhill.

You looked down at your notes for the scene as Miss Jen tried to work with the lovely couple onstage. Was it even worth fixing? Part of you wanted to scrap the scene entirely. I mean, sure, maybe it was worth mentioning to Nini that she needed to be more natural in her movements, but did you really need to tell her and EJ to actually look at one another when they sang? If they couldn’t pretend to even be apathetic strangers, could they really transform themselves into being pretend lovers by opening night?

“No, dear, that would be upstage.” You looked up as Big Red furrowed his brow, moving so that he could push the piano in the correct direction. Another note: make sure to teach Big Red blocking terms. Nothing would ever get done if the basics couldn’t be handled.

Your phone buzzed and you tore your gaze away from the mountain of corrections you had. It was from Ricky.

from: ricky

(3:15 p.m.) i’m on my way. my mom got an earlier flight, got held up with family stuff.

You bit your lip as you read his text. Things were very confusing with his family, but you didn’t exactly know how. There had been hints of it at auditions and when the two of you talked about meeting up to practice lines or study for math on the weekends (not that you would ever have the courage to actually get together with him), but Ricky had never explicitly told you much. Not that he had to or anything - you were just worried about him. You could tell that it bothered him. You figured that you would get there in time. Friendship takes time to grow, and personal stuff like that was usually disclosed later on.

to: ricky

(3:17 p.m.) we’re in the little theatre. get here as soon as you can.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you tell him that Nini and EJ broke up? You fought with yourself; it wasn’t your business to tell, but it would give a reason as to why he was needed so badly. But then again, if Ricky thought that Nini was available, wouldn’t he try and pursue her again? And wouldn’t that cause her to quit the show from the drama? Wouldn’t that then lead to EJ dropping out too? The last thing you needed was people dropping out or calling it quits. There were only so many actors, and the last thing you needed was a change in dynamics this late in the game.

(3:18 p.m.) miss jen is about to go off the deep end.

Ricky texted back a panicked emoji and you smiled as you locked your phone. It wasn’t a lie, that much you realized as you watch Miss Jen try and salvage the scene with some good, old fashioned girl talk.

Carlos turned around to look at you, a distressed look on his face. “If we can’t get this together soon, we’re going to be behind your schedule.” You sighed, flipping to the schedule at the front of your binder. You had spent hours making sure there was a time for everything. You even color-coded it.

“Maybe we could get some of the individual choreo learned outside of rehearsal time?” You gave Carlos a knowing smile. “You and Seb still have to learn Bop to the Top.” You winked at him jokingly and he laughed, a blush growing across his face.

…

You and the copy machine were good friends. Especially at this point in the rehearsal process. So when Ricky said he needed to borrow someone’s copy of scene seven, you had grabbed Miss Jen’s key off of her desk and made toward the copy machine in the teachers' lounge. Most of the teachers recognized your face in there at this point - you had been making copies for teachers since your first year as a TA for Psychology.

You grabbed the warm pages off of the copy machine and made sure to align them before stapling them in the correct order. Then you sat down at a table and (getting out your pens) started to mark down the entrances and blocking for Troy. Lord knows EJ wouldn’t help Ricky - especially after what went down earlier.

You felt bad for what happened if you were being honest. EJ and Nini were never the perfect match. They both needed someone different. You just weren’t sure if that someone that Nini needed was Ricky or not. They had history, sure; they also had chemistry in spades. But it takes more than that. You knew that. Love was hard.

You let your mind drift to Ricky, with his small smiles and sad eyes. You remembered how happy he used to be. All you wanted was for him to be that happy again.

A teacher walked into the lounge and pulled you from your thoughts. The scene. Ricky.

You quickly finished writing the blocking with a few additional notes and stuffed your pens in your backpack. You made a mental to-do list for when you got home as you walked back to Miss Jen’s office. You stopped outside and rose your hand to knock, but heard something inside before you could make a sound.

“My parents are splitting up.” You knew that voice. It took everything in your power not to gasp. “For real.” You stepped away from the door slowly, letting the voices from inside the office muffle with each step.

You weren’t meant to hear that. You shouldn’t have been listening in on their conversation. If he wanted to tell you he would have. But poor Ricky. It all made sense now. What he said at his audition. The snippets of conversation you heard when he and Nini fought. The reason he could be so despondent. Why he was so afraid of losing people.

You looked down at the copied scene in your hand. Rifling through your backpack to get a pencil, you wrote a note at the top corner of the last page.

--- taglist:

@snowman-spidey, @dinsey-chanel, @ruefulposts, @mightdielater, @ggukstoe, @wallacetdog, @onceuponafanfiction, @goodnight-n-dayglow, @prttybitchin, @loyalucas, @hxney-bunches-x, @hxzstxles, @parkeroffline, @madamestarlet, @parkerharrington, @fudgemesteveharrington, @hobistigma, @farfrom-peter, @fangeekkk, @tori-marie, @amxx44, @onceuponafanfiction, @softpeteparker, @filmqvakers, @wcnderwoo, @stitch-flo, @liberty01, @kxhliforniaa, @ilymarkchan, @complete-trash-101, @dystopianchic13​

#hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #x reader #fic #fic series #slow burn #stage manager! reader