#senditcolton

[cellythefloshie]

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability. 

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois fanfic #hockey rpf #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nicole's birthday bingo #senditcolton #birthday bingo

[comphy-and-cozy]

4, 16, and 28 for the writer asks! -senditcolton

@senditcolton 😘

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet my WIP queue is ever-growing thanks to @smileysvech and @pyotrkochetkov but I still really want to do a NFL au with brady skjei...

16. favorite place to write my couch or my bed, but I seem to edit best at my desk

28. your least favorite part of the writing process this fortunately isn't part of every writing process, but the kind of writer's block where you desperately want to write but nothing will come out and you just stare at the blank page waiting for something to happen 🫠

send me fanfic writer asks!

#asks #senditcolton #fanfic writer asks

[smileysvech]

Sleepover Friday! 💤

What is your favorite moment of this week so far? & Top 5 favorite players from teams you don't root for/follow?

🤍-senditcolton

thanks for sending this in @senditcolton 🩷

my favorite moment this week so far was probably getting my first big girl job offer that I’m pretty excited about and i’m really proud of myself 🥹

kinda cheating a bit bc some of these players are now on teams i don’t root for/follow but they once were on my teams but: jeremy swayman (bruins), anthony beauvillier (preds), jt compher (red wings), tyson jost (sabres), and jake oettinger (stars)

send me an ask for sleepover friday!

#asks #senditcolton #ask game

[wyattjohnston]

the title “sunburn” just sounds intriguing to me!!

-senditcolton

ooo so nicole i think you are the best person to have asked about this one!! @senditcolton

it's a joel edmundson fic based on a summer romance and its probably my favourite idea i've had recently, i just keep getting summer fic ideas at the end of the off season lmao

oh ALSO the actual important piece of info is that it's based on sunburn by kip moore lmao

but anyway!

this is possibly the best start to any fic i've ever written

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a good bikini, must be in want of a summer romance. And Nora Ainsworth had no shortage of good bikinis.

i have a pinterest board (quickly got very large)

and then i got real extra and made this

here's the wip list

#demi answers a question #senditcolton #Demi's WIPs

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ♡

-senditcolton

@senditcolton 🫶🏻

the mat barzal all star weekend content 🥵

tessa bailey books (new release this month!!)

the fact that it’s finally fucking sunny on long island today

holiday shaped reese’s pieces

chip city cookies

#asked and answered #senditcolton

[provokedgoalie]

hello, I just went through my entire 3+ hour country playlist to give you some recs (apologies for this large message but I love country music and most people don't so I get excited when I can talk about it)

Love You Like That by Canaan Smith Why Don’t We Just Dance by Josh Turner Friends Don’t by Maddie and Tae Love Makes Me by Hunter Hayes Love Ain’t by Eli Young Band Ex To See by Sam Hunt Whiskey by Jana Kramer Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not by Thompson Square Chasing After You by Ryan Hurd & Maren Morris Headlights by Restless Road Dirt on my Boots by Jon Pardi Don’t Knock It by Baylee Littrell I Want You to Leave by Shelby Darrall Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye by Luke Bryan The Difference by Tyler Rich + anything by Kelsea Ballerini or Kacey Musgraves

these are some of my personal favorites. there's some stereotypical "country", some romance, some heartbreak. also a wide variety of artists! some big names in the scene but also some smaller somewhat unknown artists!! I hope you find something you like! -senditcolton

no need to apologize! I love lists :D & I love that you've given me a whole variety of songs/artists <3 I will be listening to them after work & let you know my thoughts~

#anon #senditcolton #answered

[raysofcrosby]

BOOK REC ASK GAME!! (please excuse me as I’m about to recommend almost my entire library [and combine numbers]) -senditcolton

4) a poetry book that reads like a story

life of the party by Olivia Gatwood

14/66) a book that made you trip on literary acid / a book that fucked you up

Girls on Fire by Robin Wasserman

15) a book rec that you really enjoyed

American Hookup by Lisa Wade

23) a book that is currently on your TBR

Beartown by Fredrick Backman

35/37) a book featuring the found family trope / your favorite heist book

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

54) a book with the best opening line

The Girls by Emma Cline

71) your favorite LGBTQ+ fiction

Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour

103) a book that deals with heavy topics

Exit, Pursued by a Bear by E.K. Johnston

133) a book that you came across randomly and fell in love with

The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly by Stephanie Oakes

@senditcolton i love you and i am adding these onto my tbr list 🥰💙

#senditcolton #answered

[senditcolton]

i’m looking forward to the Canes v Devils series!

mostly because I am not particularly invested in either team (both positively or negatively) so it will be nice to watch a playoff series and be chill with anything that happens. 

#the other playoff series on tonight though... #we over here at senditcolton are pretending that doesn't exist #playoffs lb

[goodnightoilcountry]

jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

i will aim to update this weekly with new additions have NEW tagged next to it. additionally, if any fics become archived / deleted i will also tag it as such.

* updated thursday 25 april 2024 *

weekly note: so, i've sadly had to remove summaries of each fic to make way for new fics. i'm going to think of a solution to work around this, but whatever i do, this will still remain the masterlist for my fic recs!

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

ANAHEIM DUCKS

better man (trevor zegras) by @starry-hughes

hard to forget (trevor zegras) by @hockey-fics

something about the sunshine (trevor zegras) by @huggybug word count: 3k

last night in anaheim (trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.3k

CAROLINA CANES

do i really have to tell you (brady skjei) by @senditcolton

this is how it ends (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

i could love you with my eyes closed (sebastian aho) by @matthewtkachuk

finish line (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

lover boy (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

being bold (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

9PM in Vancouver (andrei svechnikov) by @thewintersoldierdisaster

in five (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - sunkissed: pt 1, pt 2 & pt 3 (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - all the pretty girls (pyotr kotchetkov) by @unluckyhoneybee

COLORADO AVS

summers back home (nathan mackinnon) by @happer08

crushes with beefcake (nathan mackinnon) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace (nathan mackinnon) by @mattyanonwrites

monday morning (nathan mackinnon) by @matthewtkachuk

colorado (for the first time) (nathan mackinnon) by @withwritersblock

FLORIDA PANTHERS

subtle (matthew tkachuk) by @hockey-hoe-24-7 word count: 3.1k

you say you hate me (matthew tkachuk) by @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

all for you (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and one time matty did it for you): pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (matthew tkachuk) by @comphersjost

4 times you fake a relationship + 1 time you didn't (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

4 times you didn;t find the one + 1 time you did (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

homecoming (matthew tkachuk) by @doc-pickles

NEW JERSEY DEVS

gin, tonic, and tequila shots (jack hughes) by @hockey-fics

stay the night (jack hughes) by @eyesthatroll

everybody wants you, but i don't like a gold rush (jack hughes) by @sunkissed-zegras

invisible string (luke hughes) by @hugshughes

tidal wave (luke hughes) by @babydollmarauders

drops of jupiter: pt 1 & pt 2 (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

breakable heaven series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanide

hey, i can be your boyfriend (nico hischier) by @theemporium

second best (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanideA

my heart's racing, and it isn't the exercise (luke hughes) by @sunnyskiesscareme

head start (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

first rule of fight club (jack hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

valentines (nico hischier) by @hischierdevils

reaching out (jack hughes) by @bedsyandco

clumsy (jack hughes) by @babydollmarauders

a walk down memory lane (jack hughes) by @letsgetrowdy43

lover of mine (nico hischier) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

you're not the one (nico hischier) by @ladylooch

moth to a flame (jack hughes & trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey

when the party's finally over: pt 1 & pt2 (jack hughes) by @itsjusthockey

NEW - off limits: pt 1 & pt 2 (nico hischier) by @hischierhoney

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

five times everyone knew mat loved you & the one time mat realized himself (mathew barzal) by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

bad luck charm (mathew barzal) by @matwith1t

show you (mathew barzal) by @islesnucks

to all the girls you've loved before: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6 (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

the word wing-woman (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

this is how you fall in love (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

it's nice to have a friend (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

we've come so far baby (mathew barzal) by @mendeshoney

TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

cause i'm not ready (auston matthews) by @misshoneyimhome

3 times people asked you if you an auston were together + 1 time you finally are? (auston matthews) by @bedsyandco

we're parents? like actually parents? (auston matthews) by @austonwithan-o

moth to a flame (auston matthews ft mitch marner) by @marnerparty

VANCOUVER CANUCKS

lucky (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did (quinn hughes) by @mrsensitive

5 times Quinn wanted to kiss you + 1 time he finally did (quinn hughes) by @bedsyandco

friend's don't (quinn highes) by @hischierdevils

third time's the charm (quinn hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

fearless (quinn hughes) by @theemporium

plus one (quinn hughes) by @bagopucks

growing up is (quinn hughes) by @adoristsposts

NEW - home (brock boeser) by @bedsyandco

NEW - nothing but love (quinn hughes) by @starry-hughes

NEW - can i be close to you? (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

#nhl imagine #nhl fic rec #nhl fic #hockey imagine #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #seth jarvis fic #seth jarvis imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine

[laurenairay]

I'm still haunted by the memories - S. Crosby

Summary: Maeva thought five years was long enough to get over Sidney breaking her heart. Apparently not.

Words: 5.5k

This is my fic for @senditcolton​’s birthday bingo! I chose the bingo squares ‘wedding season’, ‘It was always you’, ‘free space – argument scene’, ‘second chance romance’, and ‘interrupted kiss’. I haven’t written a full fic for Sid in ages, so I really hope you like this!

Warnings: angst, past break up scene, exes to (potential) lovers

Title: Little do you know, by Alex & Sierra

~

“What am I to you?”

“What?” Sidney asked, confused.

“What am I to you? What do I mean to you?”

“What’s going on, Maeva?” he asked, frowning.

“Can you just answer my question please?”

Sidney frowned even more at the sharpness of her voice. “You’re my girlfriend. I love you. What’s going on?”

“You love me?”

“Yes! Mae, seriously…”

She could tell he was getting frustrated now, but that didn’t settle the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

“We’ve been together five years now. I love you more than I thought could’ve ever loved anyone. Five years of cheering you on no matter what. Five years of supporting you and the team and all the better halves as they’ve come and gone. Five years of always coming second but putting on a smile because I know hockey is your whole world. But I thought I would’ve at least had a part of it?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Of course you’re part of my world,” Sidney said, confused.

Was he really going to be that cruel, to pretend he didn’t know what she meant?

“At the team get together this weekend, when we celebrated the latest Pens rookie getting engaged, someone joked to you about when you were going to put a ring on my finger too. But you just snorted and changed the subject…”

She trailed off, watching Sidney’s face pale a little bit, his reaction sinking like a stone in her stomach.

“I don’t…where did you hear that?”

“I was right behind you, Sid. I was right there and Kris & Cath saw me but you didn’t. They sent me pitying smiles and I hated it, Sid. Why don’t you want a life with me?” Maeva asked, her voice finally cracking as tears threatened to spill.

“We already have a life together. Why do we need to complicate it?”

“Complicate it? You think marriage is just a complication?” she shot back.

“I just don’t see why we need to put a label on things. We’ve got a good thing going,” Sidney huffed.

“Labels? Are you kidding me? I’m nearly 30, Sid, and all I have to show for the thing I’ve poured my heart into for five years is a couple of photos on your cup days? You won’t take me out in public, you don’t talk about me to anyone outside of your team and your immediate family, you can clearly drop me at any moment…are you ashamed of our relationship? Have I been wasting my time?”

“Damn it Mae, I’m not ashamed! I thought you understood that I like my privacy!”

That’s all he took out of it?

“I know you value it, Sid, but I didn’t think it would get to this point. I didn’t think you would go this far. I’m tired of being an afterthought to you!”

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!”

Her breath hitched in her throat as a pang of hurt rang through her chest, and she could see a flash of regret immediately pass over Sidney’s face.

“Maeva…”

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Sid. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to. Because apparently I don’t. Who knew that Sidney Crosby was such a commitment-phobe?”

~

Maeva glanced out of the airplane window, hazy memories passing through her mind as the plane started its decent into Halifax airport. It didn’t seem like it had been five years since her life with Sidney had fallen apart, almost as long as their just-over-five-years relationship. But the memories of that awful night still burned her heart like a hot poker. She may have left him that night, may have returned to Canada, but she hadn’t been able to move back to Nova Scotia. She’d tried, sure, but she’d only lasted a few months before the memories of their time there together was too much to bear too. It had felt right to flee to the other side of Canada, all the way to Vancouver where she was able to secure an apartment and a job where no-one knew who she was. Maeva had only visited her parents a few times in the five years since – and only when she knew he absolutely wouldn’t be there.

Everything had just hurt too much. It still did.

But now, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was heading back to Cole Harbour in the summer. Her cousin Natasha was getting married, and her aunt had begged Maeva to come home to join her parents in attending. If it wasn’t for the fact that she and Natasha had grown up as close as sisters, Maeva would’ve found an excuse somehow – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she had to do was survive the long weekend. It was late Thursday evening that she’d flown over, leaving Friday for wedding errands, Saturday for the pre-wedding celebrations, and Sunday for the wedding day itself - both ceremony and reception. She’d managed to book a flight home at midday on Monday, but she knew that this weekend was going to be a test of her strength.

Maeva had done so well to protect her heart for so long, and she didn’t want a few days back in Cole Harbour to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up her suitcase and head to the arrivals area, a small smile crossing her lips at the sight of her dad waiting for her. Maeva could happily admit that she was a daddy’s girl, through and through, the two of them having the only blonde hair in the family, his quiet calm aura always making her feel happy and secure. That was one of the only things she regretted about not toughing it out in Cole Harbour – she didn’t get to spend the time with her dad that he deserved.

She made a mental note not to take that for granted this weekend.

“My little Maeva,” he said gruffly, warmth seeping into every word as he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you. I’m…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she murmured when they eventually separated.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re home for the wedding. Lord knows I need a little more sanity in the house.”

Maeva just snickered, looping her arm through her dad’s as they started to walk out to the parking lot. “Mom’s succumbed to wedding fever then?”

“Happily skipped into crazy town, more like it,” he grinned, “I don’t think I can survive another day of folding bits of paper into little birds to decorate the tables.”

Maeva just grimaced, making her dad laugh. That sounded like her idea of nightmare chaos. “Any chance we can avoid most of the wedding prep tomorrow?”

Her dad just smiled indulgently. “Oh I’m sure I can figure something out.”

She really had missed him.

~

Just as her dad had promised, he managed to get the two of them out of the intense wedding preparations that the family were taking part in on Friday. The two of them went out for a long breakfast in the morning, before her mom could bundle her into the car and over to her aunt’s, and after a slow walk by the waterside, telling him all about her life in Vancouver and her small circle of friends and her low-key retail managerial career, they eventually made their way back to the house. Her mom was annoyed with them both, Maeva knew that much, but she couldn’t stay mad at Maeva for long, not really when she knew exactly why her only daughter never came home – and Maeva made up for it by ironing her dad’s shirt for the wedding and steaming his suit, her mom’s dress, and her own dress, while her father shined his shoes to her mom’s satisfaction.

There would be enough time to apologise to her cousin on Saturday during the welcome lunch up at Hatfield Farm, where 30 close family and friends would be staying overnight ahead of the wedding on Sunday (with the same 30 staying on the Sunday night). Thankfully the venue was only a 40 minute drive from her family home in Cole Harbour, so she would have plenty of time to make her flight back to Vancouver on the Monday.

She just had to get through the weekend first. One step at a time.

Saturday morning was as chaotic as Maeva thought it would be. Her mom had the three of them loading up her dad’s car like a military operation, checklist on clipboard included, to make sure that nothing was left behind, especially as their part of the family was in charge of the table centrepieces and fairy lights for decorating the reception hall. Once all of that, and their wedding outfits (and shoes and accessories) were ready, along with their overnight bags, it was coming close to midday, and with a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for the little cabin that the three of them would be staying in, they hit the road.

Despite everything, it made Maeva smile as she recognised the other cars on their journey, all of them making their way to Hatfield Farm like a miniature invasion. The curse of a small town.

It didn’t take long to sort out the accommodation keys, and once Maeva had hung up her dress for the wedding (at her mom’s request to reduce wrinkles), she sprayed a little perfume and fluffed up her blonde hair before rejoining her parents.

“Ready to face the circus?” her dad grinned.

“Honestly,” her mom tutted, elbowing him.

But even she gave Maeva a worried glance.

“I’ll be fine. Cole Harbour may be a small town, but it’s not like Sidney can pop up everywhere,” Maeva said, trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’ll be good to celebrate Natasha’s happy day.”

“Atta girl,” her dad said gruffly.

Her mom just nodded, threading her fingers through her dad’s to silently lead them across the grounds to the main reception hall, where the welcome lunch was being held. They weren’t the last people there, not by any means, but they definitely weren’t the first. Maeva could see her cousin walking towards them with a big smile on her face, dressed in a gorgeous peach dress and looking radiant with happiness, and that joy was infectious.

Until Maeva glanced across the other side of the room, that is.

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was enough to make her parents look in the same direction, and her unflappable dad scowled in a way she’d never seen before.

“What is he doing here?” her dad asked lowly, lips pursing as he turned back to look at her cousin.

Natasha glanced over and cursed under her breath. “Sid wasn’t meant to be arriving until later. I was meant to have enough time to give you a warning, Maeva. Carl invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it – they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Curse of a small town,” she murmured, her smile shaky.

She glanced back at him, thankful that he hadn’t noticed her looking yet, her heart racing in a way that made her feel sick as she took him in. Sidney looked good, of course he did. Broad shoulders, giant ass, and thick thighs filling out his suit so perfectly, hair dusted with grey in a way that only made him look distinguished. He was standing sideways, talking with Nate (of course Nate was here too) and a couple of other guys from their hometown, and as he laughed, head thrown back, the sound of his ridiculous honking giggle made her want to cry.

She wasn’t ready. How could she think she was ready?

Her mom subtly took her hand in hers, squeezing gently to reassure her, only making her dad curse under his breath again.

“Hey, you’re my cousin. If him being here is going to ruin your weekend, I can kick him out. I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family,” Natasha said firmly, voice still quiet.

Tears stung at her eyes slightly at her cousin’s care, but she shook her head. No, no she had to face being in Cole Harbour at the same time as him at some point. She wasn’t going to let him ruin things, not this time. “It’s been five years. I’ll survive.”

Natasha just frowned, taking Maeva’s free hand in her own.

“You just say the word and he’s gone, okay? I haven’t had a chance to be bridezilla yet,” she said, grinning sharply.

Maeva laughed a little wetly, shaking her head again, squeezing Natasha’s hand and her mom’s to say thank you silently.

“Everything will be fine. There will be enough people here that you can just avoid him!” her mom said, smiling.

Maeva didn’t need to look at her dad as he huffed to know that just wouldn’t happen. But still, she had to believe it was possible or she wasn’t even going to make it through today. She could avoid him as much as possible – there was only so much her heart could handle.

“Drinks?” Natasha suggested.

“Hell yes,” Maeva sighed.

Drinks, then setting up the reception hall with the fairy lights, and bringing in all of the table centrepieces ready for the venue staff to set up in the morning. Then maybe some more drinks. She could handle that.

When she eventually went to sleep close to midnight, her heart was aching in the worst way – Maeva hadn’t expected to actually be able to avoid Sidney, but she also hadn’t expected to feel his eyes trailing her around the room for the entire day.

And she was dreading tomorrow even more, now that she knew he would be there.

~

Breakfast in the morning was a communal affair. The wedding ceremony wasn’t until 2pm, and the staff at Hatfield Farm were putting on a breakfast spread for all the guests from 7-9am, so Maeva was making good use of it, knowing she wouldn’t eat for hours after this. Her dress was a flowy one thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about carb bloating – it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it, along with the fact at it was light and airy enough for the warm weather and a gorgeous shimmery gold colour that complimented her wonderfully. And it didn’t conflict with the beautiful lilac and cream wedding colours either, which was a bonus.

Her parents had already eaten and headed back to the accommodation, leaving Maeva to finish her orange juice in peace. Still, being back in Cole Harbour after all this time, surrounded by people that she’d left behind in her efforts to leave him behind…it was almost too much, and she found herself stepping outside for some air to clear her head.

One more day.

She could make it one more day.

But the moment that she heard footsteps walking over to her, she knew her luck had run out.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.”

Hello to you too, Sidney.

“Why would you even want to?” Maeva said, voice cold and polite as she turned to face him.

Sidney just winced. “Mae, come on, you know why.”

Oh screw him. Shortening her name like he used to, playing with her emotions like that? No.

“No, Sidney, I don’t know why,” she said shortly, “We broke up five years ago, almost as long ago as the whole length of our relationship was – so what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Please don’t be like this. I’m trying to apologise,” he said, frowning.

“Apologise for what, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Sidney just huffed out a frustrated breath, putting his coffee mug down on a nearby table.

“Maeva, I’m serious. I’m trying to be the bigger person here and-”

“Are you kidding me? The bigger person? Our relationship ended because you couldn’t commit, Sidney, and you’re talking about being the bigger person like I’ve done something wrong?” she said angrily,

The nerve. What the hell.

“If you would just listen to me…”

“Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say to me?” she spat, cutting him off again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me then I could actually say it!” he shot back, shades away from shouting.

“Uh, guys?”

Maeva looked sharply to the left, seeing Nate standing there awkwardly looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What, Nate?” Sidney said shortly, cheeks flushed.

“Uh, your mom is looking for you, Maeva,” he explained, grimacing.

“Thanks. We were done here anyway,” Maeva said coldly.

“No we…”

But she just stormed away, not letting Sidney finish, ignoring the hissed conversation between the two men, trying desperately to keep her composure until she was alone. Just as Nate said, her mom was glancing around, and the moment that she spotted her, her face fell.

“Let’s get back to the rooms to get ready, yes?” her mom said, pasting a smile on her face.

It was all Maeva could do to nod, letting her mom usher her along, the fire in her chest from their building argument fizzling away into an all-consuming black hole of sadness. Why would he confront her like that? Why would he want to unsettle her like that after all these years? She would never have thought of him as cruel, but this…this was the last thing she needed. Those few minutes were everything she’d been trying to avoid, and the wedding hadn’t even officially start yet – how was she going to make it through the rest of the day?

The moment that their cabin door was shut behind them, her mom whirled around to face her.

“Maeva, sweetie, what happened?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but all that she managed to do was start crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mom let out an uncharacteristic curse, cradling her in her arms, only making Maeva sob harder. This is why she never came home. This is exactly why.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to calm down, for her sobbing and tears to fade to sniffles, and she was just glad that her mom hadn’t changed into her wedding outfit yet.

“Give me the word and I will get laxatives put in his drinks. I know people,” her mom said seriously.

Maeva choked out a laugh, smiling shakily at her mom’s attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head.

“It was stupid. Just stupid. I wish he wasn’t here but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving,” Maeva said sadly.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” her mom said, huffing out a laugh.

“Nah, I get it from you, eh?”

Her mom just smiled shakily, giving her another quick hug before pulling back to rest her hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s get ready for this wedding. Have a shower and then I’ll help you with your hair,” her mom said firmly.

Maeva just smiled, nodding her head, heading towards her room as she heard the shower stopping. By the time she’d gathered her towels and underwear, her dad was back in the room he shared with her mom, leaving her to shower quickly. Leaving her with her swirling thoughts.

Even though minutes ago her blood was boiling with his audacity, her heart still ached for him. Up close the grey in his hair looked even better than she’d thought, the slight laughter lines around his eyes only adding to his appeal. His voice was a smooth as she remembered, his figure just as broad and overwhelming compared to her slight frame as it always had been. Even his intensity, his emotion, was exactly as she remembered, sending shivers down her spine.

She missed him.

And she hated it as much as she loved it.

She loved him. Even as much as she wished she didn’t.

It didn’t take her long to do her make up and put on her dress, and she blow-dried her hair to the point where it was manageable by the time her mom knocked on her bedroom door.

“Oh sweetie, you look beautiful,” her mom said, voice earnest and sweet.

Maeva just grinned back at her, twirling on the spot to watch her golden dress flare in the mirror.

Her mom laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she guided Maeva to sit down on the end of the bed. She expertly twisted half of her hair up into an elegant bun, fixing it in place with a couple of bobby pins and a ribbon that matched the gold of her dress, leaving the rest of her hair to flow down her back in blonde waves. It was simple but refined, and she felt pretty the moment she looked in the mirror.

“Thanks mom. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s my girl.”

~

The wedding was beautiful. Maeva didn’t know what else she expected though, if she was being honest. Natasha looked ethereal as she glided down the aisle, her fiancé crying a little when he saw her, and the two of them didn’t stop smiling at each other the whole ceremony. Maeva kept her eyes on them the whole time, even though she could feel eyes on her throughout the hour – she knew exactly who they belonged to, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t, not at a wedding she knew she would never have.

All the guests moved into the reception hall, sitting at their assigned tables, Maeva sitting between her parents with each of them holding one of her hands like they didn’t want her to disappear. She could only imagine what her mom her told her dad about her breakdown this morning, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. All through the wedding speeches Maeva sipped on her champagne, laughing at the appropriate moments, tearing up at her uncle’s heartfelt words, cheering the toasts to the new bride and groom. She could barely remember what she ate when the food came and went, but she dutifully ate under the watchful eye of her mom, making small talk with the other members of their table, answering politely to questions about her life in Vancouver, 6000km feeling even further away than ever before.

By the time the additional guests joined them all for the evening reception, Maeva was well on her way to being overwhelmed, but she joined the circle of people on the dancefloor to watch Natasha and her new husband in their first dance.

Just as the music started, a familiar figure stepped up next to her. Maeva froze, desperately trying to think of how to make a subtle exit, but Sidney gently pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

“This is an apology drink,” he murmured. “I should never have lost my temper with you this morning.”

Not here. Not now.

She didn’t know what her face was showing as she glanced up at him but Sidney’s face just looked sad.

“Can we talk after their first dance finishes? Please?” he begged softly.

There was something in his voice that made her façade crack.

“Fine.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Natasha and her husband for the rest of the dance, sipping the champagne flute, waiting until people started joining them on the dancefloor to slip away, Sidney subtly following her. Just off the side of the venue was a small courtyard, separated from the rest of the outside space by a trellis of flowers, just enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

Maeva put down the glass as Sidney joined her, wrapping her arms around herself partly as a guard, partly as comfort, her ex-boyfriend standing in front of her looking just as overwhelming as he always had.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he started, smiling a little.

“What did you want to talk about, Sid?” she sighed.

“I messed up all those years ago,” he murmured.

No, no she couldn’t do this.

“Sidney I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head.

“Please, please just let me finish,” he begged.

She just bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him briefly to steel herself, before nodding.

“I have spent five years trying to think about what I would say if I ever got the chance to see you again. Five years playing the conversation over and over again in my head, going through every scenario, and right now in this moment, none of it is coming to my head,” he said softly.

That was so typically Sid.

“Forget what’s in your head. What’s in your heart?” she found herself saying.

He huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I love you, Maeva,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god this was the last thing she’d been expecting.

He still loved her?

“Do you love me too? Is there any chance that you still love me?” he asked desperately.

He still loved her?

Running on pure instinct, Maeva choked out a sob as she leaned up and kissed him, hands clutching at his shirt.

Of course she still loved him.

Sidney didn’t hesitate as he kissed her slowly back, cradling her face with both hands, pouring everything into the embrace. Maeva’s head swirled as her blood surged and her heart raced…and then a couple of wedding guests stumbled outside too, clearly drunk. They were mostly giggling and falling into themselves, so they didn’t notice Sidney and Maeva springing apart, and as they stumbled around the corner Sidney quickly took one of Maeva’s hands in his, breaking her out of her frozen state of shock.

“You still love me?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“That was so stupid. I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t have…”

His face fell.

“Please don’t run away. Please don’t leave me, not again,” Sidney begged, interrupting her rambling words.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“We can’t just go back to how things were, Sid,” Maeva said sadly, “We’re different people now, we’ve both changed.”

“Then let me get to know you again. And you can get to know me,” Sidney said desperately, “We still love each other – isn’t that enough?”

Maeva’s face must’ve looked as incredulous as she felt, because he squeezed her hand a little tighter, eyes burning with intensity. She remembered that look. It still had the same effect on her, knowing that Sidney was leading up to something heart achingly earnest.

“You are right, I’ve changed – I’m not the same man I was before. I made the biggest mistake of my life taking you for granted, letting you go when I should’ve fought for us, and I regretted it the moment I realised you’d truly left. My stupid pride kept me from reaching out to you in the first few weeks, and when I got over myself, it was too late.”

“Sidney…” she murmured.

“No-one would tell me where you went. Your parents wouldn’t talk to me, or to my mom. Your friends blocked my number. All Taylor could find out was that you were in Cole Harbor for a few months before you left for good and that you’ve barely been back since. I searched for you, for any sign of you, wherever I went and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Sidney,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mae. I love you. I always have – it was always you. It was always going to be you, and I’ve spent five years regretting every single moment of that stupid fight and everything I did leading up to it. As selfish as it is, I can only hope that no-one else has your heart. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maeva swallowed heavily, letting go of his hand to run shaky fingers through her hair in an effort to compose herself. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of hearing from him and it was also everything she’d dreaded. She’d spent so long in therapy building up her walls, repairing her heart, learning how to heal herself and protect herself from falling into this kind of heartbreak again.

But she loved him.

She loved him so deeply that she didn’t know how she could ever stop. Sidney Crosby was so intrinsically part of her that she knew that, being honest with herself, she didn’t know what a life without him looked like. It was one of the main things she still talked about with her therapist, her inability to accept anyone new into her heart, and she knew deep down that no-one would ever replace him, not truly.

But was she ready to just fall back into his arms.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly, and wow wasn’t the devastated look on his face heartbreaking? “I want to, Sid, but I have spent years trying to move on from you and I don’t think I can handle going through what we did again.”

Sidney let out a shaky breath, smiling sadly as his eyes shined with tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just…I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want to show you all of the love that I should’ve shown you five years ago. You deserve that much. You should have someone love you in every single way that you absolutely deserve.”

“Sidney…” was all she could murmur again.

Maybe it was her lack of refusal, or the softness in her voice, but Sidney took one of her hands again, squeezing it gently.

“I know that we have separate lives now. I know that you have created something wonderful for yourself without me. But all I’m asking for is a chance to start over,” he said softly.

“But how would that work with you in Pittsburgh and me in Vancouver?”

“You’re a Canucks fan now?” he grimaced.

Of course that was his priority. Still, she found herself choking out a laugh, shaking her head as Sidney flushed a little with shame. “I haven’t watched hockey since I left Pittsburgh. Vancouver was just the furthest I could get away and still be in Canada.”

The look that passed over his face was a curious mix of sadness, regret, and frustration, before it settled into the determination she’d known for years.

“Can I call you?”

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“Can I call you?” he repeated. “I’m still not on social media, other than whatever the team makes us do. I’m getting better at texting. Emails are so-so. But I would love to talk to you, to hear your voice. I miss you, so much.”

How did he know exactly what to say to make her heart cry out?

“Sidney, come on,” she pleaded, trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

But he didn’t back down.

“Tell me no, Maeva. Tell me no, and I will walk away. You know I’m not that guy – no means no, and if you mean it then I will never bother you again,” he said seriously.

“You know I can’t,” she murmured.

Sidney just let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand again as a smile hopeful smile crept across his lips.

“So let me call you. We can start with baby steps. I know you have a life in Vancouver now…but I just want to be part of it. I wasted five years of my life without you because I was an idiot who didn’t appreciate the incredible woman I had – all I want is another chance. Do you love me?”

He really was devastating, wasn’t he?

“Do you love me?” he repeated, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop,” she said, feeling like an idiot but smiling anyway.

Sidney just smiled like he couldn’t believe his luck, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“I love you, Maeva,” he murmured.

He kissed her hand again before gently lowering it back down to their sides, so much emotion in his face that Maeva didn’t know what else she could possibly do.

“You can call me. I’m making no promises, but you can call me,” she said softly.

The smile that spread across his face made her heart soar for the first time in years.

~

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep? Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories? Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece? Little do you know I need a little more time?

Oh wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain, Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid, Just wait, our love is here, is here to stay, So lay your head on me.

#my writing #nicole's b-day bingo #sidney crosby fic #exes to lovers #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby imagine #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

[matthewtkachuk]

one day all my love will come back to me

Spending a mid-degree gap year in the guest bedroom of your best friend who you’ve been in love with for ages seems to be a recipe for disaster until a hook up with a player from a visiting team threatens to change your future forever 

pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader; brayden point x reader

warnings: creative liberties taken with the 2021-2022 regular season schedule and the availability/contributions of Brayden Point during the 2022 playoffs, typical angst associated with a love triangle with a hint of unrequited love, sexual themes (not quite smut but more than implied) and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc.)

word count: 10.9k

a/n: surprise @senditcolton i'm your summer exchange fic writer! i'm so so so sooooo sorry this is late, @wyattjohnston and i were having a hot girl european summer and it's not an excuse but a bit of an explanation. when i saw you had written brayden point twice in your players list, i knew it was time to dust off this fic idea i had last year and do her proper justice. i hope you like it!!! shout out to demi for the many "replace c with C" suggestions on google docs and @thomasschabot for the other suggestions. ok i'll shut up now, enjoy!!

The Avs are up by one with thirty seconds to go and you’re pretty sure you’re going to puke. It’s a good thing everyone is far too focused on the action going on at ice level to question why your gaze keeps bouncing between the good guys and a certain forward on the other team. It’s such a strange feeling—you want with your entire being for your boys to hoist the Cup, but there’s a small part of you that never wants to see the boy on the other team you care for so deeply, so upset. He was right, you both crossed the line past hooking up a long time ago. 

-

“You look hot.” 

In any other circumstance, those words from Nate would have your heart going into overdrive. As it stands, your heart is already pumping at a rate you fear is not healthy while you lie on a trampoline with your niece’s sprinkler set up beneath it. For every bitter complaint you’ve ever had about a Canadian winter, the opposing heat waves might just be slightly worse.

“A/C’s broken,” you say like that explains everything. 

Nate hums in response like maybe it does before pulling himself up beside you. 

Somehow the air around you feels even hotter, precipitation building at your hairline. You fuss for a minute, wiping away the sweat before dramatically slapping your hands down on the trampoline in protest. 

Nate ignores you, choosing to instead cheerfully proclaim “This is nice!”

“What do you want?” you ask in response. There are layers to your grumpiness, but for now you can pretend it’s all related to the unbearable heat.

“Can’t a guy visit his best friend?” 

You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep yours closed. “Not when it's 34 degrees out and humid as hell and he has to leave his air conditioned mansion to do so.”

“I saw your story and I was coming to invite you to my air conditioned mansion.”

“Is Sidney home?” Your tone is so much more nonchalant than you feel. It doesn’t matter that the aforementioned man went from Nate’s childhood hero to mentor to near-brother; it will never not be weird to have but one degree of separation from the man who’s name is on your town’s welcome sign. 

Nate laughs like he can read your mind, but you still don’t glance over at him. You don’t need to, not really. The image of him beside you comes all too easily to your inner mind. His hair’s got a wave from the humidity, his nose tinged red from the hot sun, and his chest golden and chiseled and harlequin romance novel cover-esque— 

“You know one day you’re going to have to get used to being around guys who made it to the show. Hell, I'm a guy who made it to the show.”

Finally you turn to look at him and he’s somehow even more beautiful than you’d just imagined. “That’s different Nate. You’re….you.”

He smiles at you and it’s brighter than the damn sun causing you so many problems today. “And Sid’s just Sid. And the guys in Denver are just the guys in Denver.”

His words have your nose scrunching and you promptly go back to laying flat on your back. “Don’t remind me.” There’s silence for a beat or two and then you continue, “Speaking of, are you sure it’s still okay—“

Nate doesn’t let you finish this time. “Yes, I’m sure it’s okay for you to hang around my apartment in Denver while you take a year off from school to figure out what you want to do.”

“Thanks Nate,” you reply and he hums in response. Abruptly you sit up, sliding a little from the slick trampoline surface. “Your A/C offer still standing too?”

He grins this time and you’re damn near blinded. “For you? Always.”

Sidney—Sid waves at you both from his kitchen when you pull up to Nate’s but that’s as far as it goes. Nate makes a joke about banana bread that you don’t quite get, mood souring considerably when you wonder aloud if he thinks Sidney will bring some over. 

It’s all forgotten when the cold air hits you as you enter the lake house. 

-

The summer passes by quickly without too much incident—just the nagging of your mother about your future and your own tiptoeing around the feelings you have for your friend. 

On one of your and Nate’s last nights before leaving for Denver, your niece pulls him aside and sternly instructs him to bring home the Cup for her. 

He laughs, but there’s something in his eye that says he means it when he says he will. That intensity doesn’t waiver, even as his gaze slides toward you. It has you thinking about a future by his side, celebrating those moments with him in a way so much greater than you do now. 

The thought doesn’t leave you as you kiss your family goodbye, trying desperately to not let any tears shed at the thought of no longer being a small distance away. Nate’s constant near proximity and the promise of more of it takes away the sting a little, but you fall into your sister’s embrace that little bit more all the same. 

Even as you do a final check of your things—two large suitcases, a carry-on and a backpack to house everything you’ll need for the next year—you think about it, of what it would be like to do this every year. What it would be like to pack with the intention of unpacking your things beside Nate’s in his closet. It’s silly, but sometimes you still feel like you’re fifteen years old, realizing you’re in love with your best friend as he goes away to the same hockey school as his idol. 

Two flights full of self doubt and Nate sleeping on your shoulder later you’re convinced spending your impromptu gap year at his place is a bad idea. But then he’s smiling and ‘welcome home’-ing you and you step through the door.

-

Unemployment and a mid-twenties life crisis isn’t so bad from the guest bedroom of a lavish semi-detached in the suburbs of Denver. The bed’s softer than the one in your childhood bedroom. Bigger too. And the closet leading into the attached en-suite has no business being the size it is. 

There are downsides of course. You are still unemployed and in the middle of a life crisis. Nathan is woefully unaware of your feelings and likely to never reciprocate. His teammates look at you like they know, though. And there’s the whole banning of any food that brings any modicum of enjoyment that you’re not entirely sure is serious or not. 

The teammates that come around are kind to you when you’re around them enough to let them be. A small part of it is the intimidation of them being professional hockey players but they’re good guys and you’ve met many of them before. Really, it’s something more akin to the inherent uncomfortability of your predicament. It’s Nate’s house and you’re free-loading. 

Of course he would argue differently if you voiced your thoughts and hang ups but that’s precisely why you don’t. 

Nate may have never caught onto your feelings for him, but he’s not an oblivious person. That’s probably how you end up in the family box, being personally invited to brunch with the Better Halves by the best-half-in-charge herself, Mel Landeskog. 

You find yourself nodding despite the anxiety of the possibility of making new friends, certain it’s less of an invitation and more of a demand. 

She tells you as much, pressing a mimosa into your hand when you arrive at a cute restaurant and a table full of beautiful, predominantly blonde women. If Nate’s teammates were intimidating on a personal level, their wives and girlfriends are a whole other level. Never in your life have you been so surrounded by a group of women so put together—every outfit perfectly on point, every head of hair treated to an expensive blowout, every foundation shade perfectly matched or worse, no makeup needed. 

It has you self-conscious, despite having spent ages picking out something to wear and trying to tame your hair into something presentable. The mimosa helps, and so do the compliments from Ashley Kadri. Little by little you open up, and by the end of brunch you have a killer buzz and a dozen new instagram followers and numbers in your phone. 

When Nate picks you up, the bubbles have gone to your head. You spend the entire ride back to his place with the back of your head pressed to the passenger side window so that you can grin stupidly at his side profile. 

“The girls are great,” you tell him with a silly giggle. His returning smile reeks of satisfaction of a job well done, but you don’t focus on it. “We’re gonna get dinner this week too!”

-

Although Mel takes you under her wing, it’s Heidy, Cale’s girlfriend who you instantly click with. 

She’s every bit as beautiful and kind as the rest of them, but you connect with her on a different level. It’s almost like you’ve known her as long as you’ve known Nate. She shares your love of Taylor Swift and gets your jokes and is more than happy to let you bounce future career plans off her. 

You can tell the girls have questions about your relationship with Nate, and truthfully they can get in line behind you. Sometimes, when you’re not careful, it almost feels like you’re not alone in how you feel. Sometimes it feels like you’re high school sweethearts, playing house on the precipice of a greater future. 

Nate doesn’t help it himself though. It’s you he calls on long road trips, you he pulls into a giant hug outside the locker room before driving you both home after a game. You who is invited to WAG functions as a connection to him—both informally in a social context and more formally and broadly. Things like charity toy drives and the family box at games. A part of you fears the possibility of playoffs—especially with odds so clearly in the Avs favor—and what it would mean to be so publicly claimed as Nate’s while privately remaining the way you always have been. 

It’s Heidy who you confide in. She’s always there to offer her ear, her shoulder, her opinion. And, although she encourages you to share your feelings, she also knows when to back off and let you do it when and if you’re ready. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. 

-

With Christmas comes the Better Halves Christmas Tree Auction. It’s Mel’s favorite charity event of the season, she tells you gleefully. 

“Every event is her favorite,” Suzanna says behind her back later. 

Designated Favorite Human of the Avalanche Children is usually your favorite title, but it means you have one kid hanging off of you when the girls drop the bomb on you. 

“So what are you thinking for your WAG tree?”

It’s an innocent enough question, especially when you think it’s aimed at one of the aforementioned WAGs in the family box. Only when there is no response do you look up and realize it’s meant for you instead. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Your…Tree,” someone says slowly and you shake your head. 

Your tone and words are almost as flustered as you are. “No I heard you. I’m just—What do you—Why are you asking me?”

“Well, Nate said…” 

It all comes clear. Yet again, you’re expected to play the part. At great personal cost, mind you. It’s a mindfuck and a half, having to do all the things that you do for a man you love when it doesn’t mean anything. 

Your thoughts are invaded with a tempestuous mixture of Nate and your relationship or lack thereof and yet another public acknowledgement. 

Truly, you wonder if the others in the box pity you or laugh behind your back. 

“C’mon,” Heidy says later, when the final buzzer sounds, cementing another win. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Nate’s,” you correct weakly. 

She nods and repeats his name, grabbing your arm and leading you away. 

-

You’re stewing in silence when Nate comes home. 

“You okay?” he questions upon finding you in the living room, lit up only by the light filtering in through the large bay window. 

The twitch of your eye is the only indication you’ve heard and recognized his words for a long moment. You can practically hear the gears whirring in his head, can feel the moment he’s about to speak again. 

Not wanting to give him the opportunity, you ask, “Why?” His brows furrow and his head tits and so you continue. “Why did you say I would do your Better Half tree?”

“It’s for charity…You love charity work.” Nate visibly relaxes and you understand why. He’s not wrong, engaging in charity work has been a big part of why you’re not wallowing in self pity, but this isn’t just simple ‘charity work’ and you tell him as much. 

“I love toy drives and helping at the soup kitchen and adoption events at the ASPCA. This is different, this is your WAG tree. It means something. It’s in your name, like I’m—I’m—“ you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“Everything you mentioned you do in my name.” He doesn’t seem to get it, frustrating you further. 

“It’s not the same, Nate! All those other things I do as part of the larger group. It’s all facilitated by your team and your teammates ‘Better Halves.’ Their wives and girlfriends. They’ve all made me feel welcome, but I'm not one of them. This implies that I am one of them, but I’m not your girlfriend and certainly not your wife.”

“You basically are.” The phrase has your heart jumping into your throat. Of every daydream or fantasy you’ve ever allowed yourself to slip into, you never dreamed this would be how it all went down—“Without actually being my wife or girlfriend.”

“Right.” Your voice is short and clipped, masking the hurt quickly overtaking you. You won’t cry—you’re stronger than that. So strong in fact, that you lay down a firm boundary. “I won’t do it. Get Sidney to do it or something.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, pausing and then asking, “We’re good, right?”

“Yep.” You feign nonchalance and then wish him a good night. 

The pillow holds all your tears and secrets. 

-

The incident sticks with you, despite your many attempts to shake it off. Even Heidy can’t help. She tries anyway. 

You’re not his. 

But you are. You’re his and you have been for years now. Since he was leaving for school. Maybe even many years before that. Regardless of the true beginning, it doesn’t quite matter. What really matters is this: you’re not sure it will ever have an ending, but you’re almost certain if it does, it won’t be the one you want. 

You’re his but he’s not yours. 

Part of him is, sure, but you share that part with the other residents of Cole Harbour. The other part with the team and his teammates and their families, with the fans and the haters alike. The part you so desperately want to be yours has belonged to many a woman, but never to you. 

It was a lot easier to live in the space between his childhood best friend and everything more when you were separated the majority of the year. A summer chock full of other things to do and focus your attention on to keep the longing at bay and enough distance for the rest of the year to forget how it feels to have him near without really having him. 

One of Heidy’s distraction schemes involves hitting up downtown Denver a few nights later. 

“But it’s Thursday,” you say when she shows up at Nate’s dressed up like she’s ready to hit the bar. 

“I have tomorrow off and you don’t have a job, so,” she replies. 

You frown, “Ouch.” She throws a look your way as if to not take it so personally and continues perusing your closet. “I’m not really feeling up to going out tonight.”

“Too damn bad,” she replies. “You can’t just sit here and wallow for the rest of your life.”

“Watch me,” you retort but start to get up anyway. 

She smirks and tosses some clothes at you. “Get dressed and do something with your hair. I’ll do your makeup.”

“Where are you guys going all dressed up?” Nate questions when he spots the two of you in the foyer. 

“Out.” Heidy is curt, a consequence of her not only being a good friend to you, but also her own awareness of his behavior. 

His brows knit together but he soldiers on, “Do you want company?”

“Nope!” She’s much more cheerful now that she’s handed you your coat and bundled herself up. “Don’t wait up!”

Heidy drags you out to Cale’s car, where the man himself sits waiting. You instantly feel bad—between your protesting and actual time spent getting ready, he’d been sitting a while. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” you ask as you get in the backseat. He shrugs with a rosy smile as Heidy pushes you in further and takes a seat beside you. After pressing a quick kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek over the center console, of course. 

Cale doesn’t stick around after dropping you both off—a wave, a ‘be safe’, and ‘call me when you’re ready to go home’ and he’s gone. 

You’re terrible company admittedly, mouth set in a deep frown that doesn’t crack even as you sip your drink. Heidy does most of the talking at first, blabbing away about everything and nothing. Until she sighs, slaps her hand down on the bar top and says, “You need to deal with this. Either you need to resolve things with Nate or you need to get over it, distract yourself with something or someone else.”

You nearly choke on the last of your drink. “Gee, Heidy, could you be any more subtle?”

“I’m worried about you.” She’s so earnest it tugs at your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll try. Really.” 

She smiles, relaxing into the seat at the bar top. 

Just then, the bartender sets another drink in front of you. 

“I didn’t order another,” you state politely, attempting to hand back the drink. 

The bartender shakes his head, motioning to the table in the corner as he speaks. “From someone at that table.”

It’s a group of athletic men, but only one is looking your way. He’s all intense eyes framed by intense eyebrows, but the look on his face doesn’t match the intensity. It’s…intriguing to say the least. Soft but confident, and definitely interested. 

It’s not until one of the other men at the table elbows him that you realize they’re the team playing the Avs tomorrow night. 

Quickly you spin back around and whisper to your friend, “Someone from the Tampa Bay Lightning just bought me a drink.”

Her eyes widen and she herself turns around quickly to get a glimpse of your admirer across the bar. You grab at her arm and bring her back to face the bar top. 

“Heidy!” you hiss. 

“Sorry!” she replies, “What are you going to do?”

You think about it for a second before throwing caution to the wind. Putting on your flirtiest smile, you turn around a lot more gracefully this time. Raising the gifted drink, you tilt it in a ‘Cheers’ motion before wrapping your lips around the straw for a sip. He responds with an identical gesture, although with an amber colored beer bottle instead. 

Satisfied, you resume your earlier position while Heidy speaks. 

“When I said you needed a distraction that is not what I meant!”

You roll your eyes. “It’s a drink, not a marriage proposal. Relax.”

She does, until you pull her out to the dance floor with eyes only for the man across the bar. Lucky for you—and less lucky for Heidy’s resting heart rate and blood pressure—he’s got eyes for you, too. 

It only takes half a song for him to approach and introduce himself. “I’m Brayden.”

You smile and reciprocate, waiting a beat for Heidy to speak too, but she just tilts her nose up. An elbow to her side doesn’t get her speaking and so you introduce her, too. 

One of Brayden’s eyebrows raise and you find yourself momentarily mesmerized by the action before quickly explaining, “Big Avalanche fans.”

He nods slowly once, then shrugs. “Maybe I can change that.”

“Doubtful,” she says under her breath, but if you heard it, you imagine Brayden did too. 

She doesn’t thaw any, even as the song changes. Nor does she get the hint to take herself elsewhere and so you rather pointedly ask if she can go get you both another round. 

Heidy isn’t even able to get out whatever she was ready to grumble before Brayden is offering, pausing to ask what Heidy is drinking. She begrudgingly tells him and he disappears. 

“Seriously? You could have any guy here and that’s who you go for?” she asks. 

You shrug, “He’s the one I want.”

She softens at your earnest tone. “Okay.”

“Call Cale,” you tell her. “Go curl up on the couch and watch TV together or whatever you would have done if you weren’t worrying about me.”

“I don’t know…”

“Go. I’ll be fine. And I’ll text you if I need you,” you confirm. 

She sighs. “I’m waiting for my drink first.”

You laugh and pull her into a side hug. “Love you.”

True to her word, she finishes the drink Brayden brings her—even managing a ‘thank you!’—before slipping off into the crowd and, you imagine, into her boyfriend’s car. 

Brayden looks a little concerned at her rapid exit. “Did I do something to make her leave?” 

“Besides playing for the wrong team? Nah.” 

He doesn’t look convinced, but the concern fades when you wrap your arms around his neck. 

It’s all but gone when you press your lips to his. 

You dance for another few songs and another drink before your inhibitions are just low enough to drag him in the direction of the bathrooms. 

The men’s is empty when you enter, and so you flip the lock on the door and press yourself against him. 

He reciprocates, crowding you against the door with his mouth hot on yours. 

Your whole body lights up at his touch, coming alive beneath his fingertips. There are no thoughts of Nate or the predicament you’ve found yourself in, just Brayden. 

His hands are curved around your jaw, and your leg is wrapped around his waist when he pulls away. “Wait...wait.”

“You don’t want…?” You’re not drunk, just a little bit more sensitive to rejection than you usually would be. 

“No that’s—That’s not it at all. I want you, like, really want you.” He kisses you, and as good as his touch feels, being wanted feels that extra bit more. “Not like this. Not here.”

Truthfully, you’ve never been the kind of girl who lets someone hit and quit in a bar bathroom before. Or anywhere really. A part of you that you thought was long buried stirs inside of you and you realize for the first time in a long time you’re feeling something for a man who isn’t your best friend. 

Your best friend. Shit. “I have a kind of odd living situation right now, my place isn’t an option.”

“Your parents?”

You bark out a laugh that he immediately covers with his mouth. “No, they’re back in Canada.”

“Your husband? Your boyfriend?” He’s joking, but you can’t help but get the sense there’s an ounce of worry that he’s right. It’s such an inconceivable notion that Nate could ever be either to you that you laugh again. 

“No, I just live with a friend who probably won’t be understanding about a strange man in their house.” 

Brayden visibly relaxes, pauses, and then says, “I have a hotel room…you’ll have to be quiet though.”

“I can be quiet,” you reply, barely hiding your smirk. 

You try your best, really give it your best effort, but no one has ever touched you like he does. 

Nate doesn’t cross your mind once. 

-

You sneak out early in the morning, determined to not have a semi-public walk of shame in front of an entire hockey team. It’s almost a success until you run into his captain in the lobby. Feeling your face grow hot, you give him a little nod and escape to the waiting Uber. You can only hope he doesn’t get too much shit, telling him as much using the newest number in your phone. 

You’re not nearly as lucky, facing the firing squad that is Nate as you slip into the entryway. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see your best friend awaiting your arrival, if the several messages that popped up when you’d finally opened your phone to send the aforementioned text to Brayden were any indication. 

“Where have you been?” he asks and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“Out,” you say, calling back to Heidy’s response last night but he doesn’t accept it as easily coming from you. 

“All night?” he continues the interrogation. 

“I crashed at Heidy’s last night, what’s with the fifth degree, Dad?”

He looks like he was waiting for this moment as he replies, “No you didn’t, I talked to Cale.”

This time you do roll your eyes. “It’s none of your business, Nate.”

“It is my business if you’re under my roof,” he says, doing his best impression of your father for real this time. 

You know it’s not his intention, but your stomach drops all the same. The old feeling of guilt and shame and failure floods your veins, and you can tell he notices. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried and you didn’t answer my messages.”

“I know,” you say but the words taste bitter in your mouth. “I’m going to go get some more sleep. See you later.”

He repeats the words back at you, but you’re more focused on the buzzing phone in your pocket. 

Safe in Nate’s guest bedroom, you slip into something more comfortable, get beneath the covers and open your messages. 

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Got fined

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Probably going to get chirped for a month

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Worth it though 

You: I would tell you I’m sorry but I’m not 

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Me either

-

If you thought that was the beginning and the end of Brayden you would be sorely mistaken. 

Long distance flirting becomes a long distance hook up becomes him flying you out to see him. Any time you protested the latter, you’d find a non-refundable ticket in your email and a ‘please’ in your text messages. 

Fall fades into Winter and Bar Guy 💙🤍 turns to Brayden turns to B 💙. As your feelings for him grow, you find thoughts of Nate as anything other than someone-you-grew-up-with fade. 

You come clean about the ‘friend you live with’ being Nathan MacKinnon before the first time you fly down to see him, worried that your lie by omission might be a dealbreaker. Brayden only laughs, he figured Heidy’s hostility was more than just motivated by more than sports team loyalty. 

The thing about Brayden is he never makes you feel bad about Nate. He is understanding and gracious, never demanding, never unreasonable. A small part of you sometimes thinks about how if the roles were reversed, you don’t think Nate would be quite the same. 

Initially unsupportive and apprehensive, Heidy comes around, although her persistence turns from telling Nate how you feel to telling Nate about Brayden. You don’t do either, and she keeps your secrets. 

Nate being selected for the All Star Game in Vegas while Brayden isn’t brings a unique opportunity for a week straight in hot, sunny Florida. The chill of Denver isn’t quite as biting as back home, but you’re excited to escape it all the same. 

He doesn’t ask you to join him in Vegas, but you do wonder if he thought he didn’t need to. 

It doesn’t matter either way, when an errant high stick in overtime breaks his nose and dashes his All Star dreams. 

Your first thought upon seeing him bloody and disoriented on the ice is that there is no way you can go to Florida. 

It probably looks much worse than it is, the girls try to reassure you in the box, but you’re not convinced. 

Nate’s reassurances later don’t do much either. Not with his face puffy and bruised and some dried blood on his chin. 

It’s not until he assures you that his mom and sister will be coming down to Denver since they had the time off anyway that you decide for sure you will go. 

The day you leave for the airport, his pathetic form on the couch is almost enough to have you last minute cancelling on Brayden. 

Nate all but demands you don’t miss out on his account, asking that you ‘be safe’ and ‘have fun’. 

In return you hit him with a ‘thanks Dad’ and ‘take it easy’ despite knowing just by virtue of who he is as a person he will be doing the exact opposite.  

Thoughts of Nate, broken and bruised, haunt you the entire journey. They don’t fade until you’re in Brayden’s arms. Even then, it’s a dull ache that you do your best to ignore. 

Evidently you don’t do a very good job of hiding it, or maybe Brayden just knows you better than you think, because he catches on before you’ve even reached his place. 

“You okay?” he asks, gently squeezing your knee where his hand rests. 

Turning to look at his side profile, so earnest and sweet, you don’t even think of lying. 

“I’m worried about Nate.”

“I get that,” he says and you wonder if he truly does. “I’m glad you’re here with me though.”

Smiling at him, you are too, and so you try to push down the guilt and focus your attention on the man you’re with. 

You check on Nate periodically throughout the week, never getting much more than a thumbs up emoji, but at least you know he’s alive. 

Brayden wines and dines and, well, you know the rest of the rhyme. 

By the time the week is up, you don’t want to leave. It’s strange how meeting one person can change things so drastically. Before Brayden, you would never have dreamed of spending a week with another man when Nate was injured and possibly may have needed you. 

It also puts things into perspective for you. 

Really emphasizes how much additional emotional labor you put in—and were expected to—in your relationship with Nate. The lines and boundaries had long since blurred, and it took dedicating your time and energy to another man to see it. 

If Nate notices the way you pull back even further when you return, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

-

Falling for Brayden is easy. It’s a gentle float down to the ground, landing among a field of flowers to catch your fall. A stark contrast to the free fall of being pushed from an airplane at 10,000 feet by Nate. 

Where Nate’s sharp edges have cut you time and time and time again, Brayden’s curves wrap around you and hold you tight. 

When you’re not physically with him, you’re texting and calling, and when you’re not doing that you’re thinking about him. 

Neither of you make any move to define the relationship further, but it doesn’t sting like the years of being strung along by Nate did. It’s probably because while no words have been exchanged to that effect, Brayden lets you feel how much he cares for you. 

-

You’re nearly found out late in the regular season. 

Something about Tampa has started to feel familiar and safe—you try not to think about exactly why that is—and so, despite the knowledge that the boys are in town, too, you’re not as careful as you should be. 

There’s an ice cream spot near Brayden’s that you’ve taken to frequenting. As a consequence, it’s also near the arena. 

Because it’s so close, you decide to walk there, teasing him the whole way about how one ice cream cone won’t derail his nutrition plan. He’s arguing back, but you know it’s in vain because his sweet tooth and the lilt of your voice will win in the end. 

Your hands naturally brush as a result of your close proximity and you take the opportunity to link your pinkies. He smiles softly and you walk in silence for a minute until he breaks it. 

“You really won’t let me give you my jersey?” It’s a question that has come up before, but every time it does you wonder if it’s a little bit more serious of an ask than the last. 

“I’d rather die. Maybe if you were a better hockey player,” you tease, jumping back to avoid his grasp. 

He gasps playfully, thick eyebrows raising with his wide eyes. “Take that back right now.” He takes a step closer to you but you dodge his advances, sliding to the other side of the bench. 

“Sorry baby, you know I bleed blue and maroon. Wouldn’t be caught dead in traitor blue.” Not to mention you’d never ever hear the end of it from the boys if someone saw you in it. 

He fakes left and you fall for it, giggling madly as he wraps you up in his arms and scrapes his beard against your cheek. “What about just for me?” he asks, kissing your neck once and then nipping at it with his teeth before pulling back to look into your eyes. “In my bed with nothing else on?”

It’s like the already beautiful temperature rises even higher when he presses his mouth to yours. You give in quickly, pressing onto the tips of your toes to get even closer. It turns dirty quickly, his tongue in your mouth and his fingers buried deep in your hair. 

And then a familiar voice calls your name. 

You pull from Brayden like you’ve been burnt, a look of pure panic crossing your face as you realize you know the body attached to the voice. 

It’s JT and he looks like been standing there long enough to figure out what’s going on. 

“JT—“ you start to explain, but pause. There is no easy, simple explanation. There are months and months, hell years and years, of backstory and layers to even get to this point. 

“I thought—“ He appears to change his mind, stopping his thought mid sentence and switching to a question. “What’s going on here?”

“Brayden and I are, well, we’re.” It’s a struggle to explain what you are to one of Nate’s teammates when you haven’t had this conversation in full with the man beside you. Finally, you land on “We’re together.”

You don’t look over at Brayden to see his reaction. 

“How long?” is the natural follow up. 

It’s another tough question, but you decide to go with the first time you met and slept together. “Before Christmas.”

“Does Nate know?” he asks. The wild look in your eyes must give you away because he signs and says your name. “You have to tell him.”

You get that, really you do. But at the same time it’s your business what you do and who you do it with, not Nate’s. At the same time, you know it would be a really shit thing for him to find out through someone who isn’t you. 

Beyond that, you’re pretty sure right before playoffs isn’t the right time to have that conversation and you tell JT as much. “I know, I will. After the season I’ll tell everyone.”

JT looks less than convinced. 

“You know Nate, it wouldn’t do anyone any good while the season is still going on. Please, you can’t tell him.”

JT might be as aware as you are of who Nate is as a person, and he’s certainly more aware of who Nate is as a hockey player and so he agrees despite his clear hesitance. “Promise me, after the season.”

“I promise.”

When he’s gone, Brayden finally speaks up. “You want to go public with us?”

You worry you’ve said the wrong thing, starting to babble about how you’re sorry the conversation didn’t occur privately first, and how you don’t need to go public if it’s not something he wants to do when he silences you with a kiss. 

“I want to tell everyone,” he says earnestly and you kiss him again.  

JT thankfully keeps his word. 

-

Nate doesn’t watch any other team in the playoffs. 

It makes trying to catch Brayden’s games tough, sneaking out to sports bars, watching games on your phone in Nate’s guest room, even flying out to watch a couple home games during the run. 

The only supportive merch you sport is a necklace with his number, and on occasion a little blue and white lacy number under your clothes. You’re not offered a WAG jacket—whether that’s due to Brayden knowing well enough you don’t want to be that public or because your reaction to the style of jacket itself was less than positive. 

In the back of your mind you recognize there’s a chance it could come down to the teams of the boys you care for most; one Eastern Conference, one Western Conference. 

Selfishly, when the first round between the Bolts and the Leafs goes to seven, part of you hopes for it to end right there. Most of you is glad they push through. 

On Colorado’s side of the playoff bracket, they absolutely rip through everyone who stands in their way. 

You are offered a jacket with Nate’s name and number in glitter, but you turn it down in favor of a lucky baseball cap, though you do accept an unpersonalized crop from Madison. 

Some of the girls decide to travel for the away games. You have to turn them down because there are already tickets with your name on them to see Brayden. There’s no way you can—or would—miss any Avs home games, and so instead you end up being one of a handful of supporters in the likes of Toronto, Miami and New York. 

It’s a difficult balancing act as the playoffs progress in both teams’ favor. 

And then your worst nightmare comes true. The quest for the Cup comes down to your… whatever Brayden is to you and to Nate and the team you’ve supported since he was drafted and all the other people who have come to feel like family. 

Whispering to Brayden in the dark of night before the Finals begin, you tell him, “You know I support you, but…”

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, even though he has no reason to match your tone all alone in his home in Tampa. “I get it. As long as you still like me, you can like them a little bit more.”

You giggle, “It’s got nothing to do with liking you, you dolt.” 

“Bolt,” he corrects, and even though you can’t see him you know he’s smiling. 

“Oh my God, shut up.” You don’t mean it literally but he’s quiet for a second too long. “No matter what happens I’m proud of you.”

For two people who have never properly defined nor publicized their relationship, it might be too heavy of a moment, but his quiet thank you is laced with emotion. 

“Go to bed,” you say after another few beats of silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The first two games are in Colorado, and the boys take both at home. 

“Ain’t over til it’s over,” is both of your boys’ philosophy after the first two. 

Nate is positively buzzing, especially after so decisively winning the second, but still cautious—very aware of how quickly a 2-0 lead can turn into the end of the line and empty hands. 

Brayden is also cautious, and this isn’t his first or even second rodeo at the Cup final in as many years. You try to kiss it better in a random hallway in the bowels of Ball Arena. 

Finally accepting the Better Halves’ invitation to travel to road games, you have a good seat to Tampa taking back some momentum in game three before promptly handing it back to Colorado. 

You die and come back to life a dozen times in game four as Brayden and his team hold on. 

Game five is to be played back in Tampa, and you spend the night before the game in Brayden’s bed instead of the hotel Nate has paid for. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips early in the morning before you leave to meet the girls for breakfast. 

“You don’t mean that,” he teases, stretching out in such a way that has you considering skipping breakfast—certain teasing and interrogation be damned. 

“Good luck to you,” you amend, kissing him once more. “Your team can rot.”

His laughter rings in your ears as you leave. 

Mel corners you after breakfast, a familiar offending piece of clothing in her hands. “This could be it,” she explains, offering you the jean jacket. 

If it were any year previous, you might have worn it. If you didn’t have Brayden, you might have worn it. If Nate had offered it to you himself alongside a confession, you might have worn it. 

None of these things are true, and so you decline. “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

Her smile has a twinge of sadness and understanding as she replies, “Okay.”

-

Sitting alongside the girls in the box with your cropped sweater hiding the 21 necklace around your neck, you’ve never felt more torn. 

Brayden’s captain nets one early in the first, and you’re not sure you breathe again until Nate’s powerplay evens the score early in the second. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the box alongside the nervous energy. Midway through the second, Arturri tips it in and Amalie Arena is silent. 

It stays like that for the rest of the period until you excuse yourself to grab a drink at intermission. Standing in the long drink line, you spot a little girl in a Point jersey and your stomach twists as you think about how no matter which way this ends, someone you care for will be hurt. 

That feeling doesn’t leave as you sit through a scoreless third period. The arena gets loud with Bolts fans throughout, celebrating every blocked shot and turnover. That intensity picks up in the dying seconds of the game as Brayden picks off the puck in the defensive zone. 

He rushes up the ice flanked by his linemates, but is momentarily stopped by Cale. 

He gets his stick back on the puck and your nails dig into the leather arm of the box seat. Suzanna grabs your hand, assuming it’s worry for her boyfriend and his teammates and you let her think that and hold your hand. 

Three seconds. 

Two seconds. 

He shoots right as the buzzer sounds and Darcy gloves it down like there was never a question of him stopping it. 

The entire box explodes in a chorus of cheers—there’s shouting, swearing, crying, laughter and you’re right in the middle of them all. Your boys are Stanley Cup Champions. 

Someone grabs you, and then someone else joins in and suddenly you’re in the middle of a dog pile. “They fucking did it!”

You’re so fucking excited, incredibly proud and honestly a little weepy about your favorite people finally getting their hands on their childhood dream. But, a bigger part of the organ in your chest than you want to admit aches for the downturn of Brayden’s head as he skates back to the bench. 

An attendant appears and wrangles the rowdy bunch down to the ice. You’ve got Linnea Landeskog in your arms and a giant grin on your face as your feet touch the ice.

“Down please,” she politely states while trying to wriggle out of your grasp. The second she’s down she’s running at her daddy who sweeps her up in his arms. 

And then Nate’s on you in a way that you used to long for when you were younger. He’s red and sweaty and out of breath but none of these things stop him from hauling you up into his arms and spinning you until you smack at his chest, demanding to be let down much like Linnea only minutes ago. 

He stops spinning but he doesn’t let go, staring up at you with a look he’s never given you before. You’re so caught up in the excitement of it all you barely notice, grabbing his cheeks and shouting in his face, “You fucking did it!”

“We fucking did,” he says like he can’t believe this moment is happening—whether that’s due to you in his arms or the Cup that will now bear his name no one can really say. He kind of looks like he’s about to do something stupid, leaning in ever so slightly, and so you finally succeed at leaving his arms, slipping slightly as you reach the ice once again. Brayden is watching from across the ice, a sad look on his face that you just want to kiss off. You don’t though, just pat Nate on the back once and continue moving, throwing yourself at Cale, then Burky, then Mikko.

It’s a blur of celebrations and photos with the Cup—you even let Linnea convince you to take a photo with her and the Cup, her mom remarking that it looks good on you. When you pull from your photo pose, you give her a questioning look. “A baby and a cup,” she smirks, blatantly looking over at Nate who seems to agree. 

You laugh nervously—last year that was all you wanted, the boys to win and Nate to want you in that way. Now? Now you can picture it still, you just picture it with someone else. 

Finally, you’re able to sneak away and Brayden has the same idea, telling you to meet him in a closet by the locker room. No words are exchanged as he pulls you in by your hips and kisses you like he needs it to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and you mean it. 

A crinkle forms between his eyes. “No you’re not.”

You kiss him again once, “I’m not sorry the boys won tonight, but I am sorry it was against you.”

“There’s always next year.” It’s far more flippant than you had anticipated, really you thought you’d be dealing with an upset Brayden and that might have broken your heart. 

“I thought you’d be more upset.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” he says and you give him a look to be serious. “So what, we didn’t win the Cup this season. I got you, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off, dont be stupid.” Your cheeks are hot and your eyes are wild. 

“I mean it. I’d take you over the Cup nine times out of ten.”

“What about the other one?” 

“Need to win another one for us to put our future babies in.”

“Awfully presumptuous for a hook up.” 

“This is so much more than a hook up.”

“Yeah,” you admit, sinking deeply into another kiss. 

“Besides,” he pauses, “Already got two rings.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay I gotta go. Will you come get me later?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid to ask, like he’d go into the pits of hell itself for you without hesitation. “Of course. Now go. Celebrate. I’ll see you later.”

You slip out first, making sure the coast is clear and go find the others. A Stanley Cup Champion hat is placed upon your head and a bottle of champagne in your hand. There’s a celebration in the visitor locker room and then the party moves to a local bar. 

Someone shells out the money for a few bottles of vintage Dom Perignon that you indulge in, but mostly you just relish in the happiness of everyone around you. If you’re honest, you spend a fair amount of time avoiding Nate who has a serious look every time you catch him staring. 

Shortly before midnight, you slip out of the bar and into Brayden’s waiting car. The bubbly must have gone to your head, because you forgo any verbal greeting in favor of launching yourself over the center console to press your lips to his. 

He pulls away and very somberly states, “I can’t take you seriously in that sweater.”

Looking down, you spot the Avalanche crop and laugh as you pull it off and toss it in the back. “Better?”

He hums, fingertip tracing the chain around your neck from your clavicle down between your breasts to reveal his number on the pendant. “Much.”

You sink back into another kiss before remembering where you are, who you’re with and what you’re doing meanwhile the bar you just left is crawling with people you’re not quite ready to come clean to just yet. 

“Take me home, Bray,” you say as you relax back into the passenger seat. 

You don’t have the power to bring your lover the Stanley Cup your friends were just drinking out of. All you have to offer is yourself, but he accepts it with as much gratitude as your best friend accepted the Cup earlier. 

Later, he looks like he wants to ask you to stay, and you think you look like you want him to. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter as you fall asleep next to him and somehow make it back to your hotel room in the morning with no one the wiser. 

-

Nate spends a few more weeks in Denver after the win, celebrating with the guys and riding the high of winning it all. You only spend a couple days and then move out of his house and back into your parents. 

You don’t tell him about Brayden, content to let Nate enjoy his successes. 

As a consequence, you don’t see much of him in July or August. Even when you’re both home, he’s busy with all his other friends and his family, and you’re busy with your niece and deciding on what to do in the fall. You’ve determined the best course of action is to finish your degree and then apply to a masters program in order to change your career path. 

The choice, then, is where to do so. You can stay at home, commute an hour each way into the city—supported by your hometown friends and your family. Or you can make the shift to Denver for real, with your found family and with Nate. Or…

The University of Tampa Bay has an excellent program. You know from your time visiting Brayden through the season that the university is right around the corner from Amalie Arena and Brayden’s. It’s awfully presumptuous, but you find yourself daydreaming about the possibility much like you used to daydream about a future in Denver. 

Of course, there’s an entire continent of possibilities, hell an entire world of possibilities, but these are the three most attractive options. 

There are many discussions to be had, and choices to be made. You don’t want to do either until you’ve had a chance to speak to Brayden in person, but just as Nate’s had a busy summer, so too has he. 

He messages you every morning before and after working out while you’re still asleep. Every conversation eventually devolves into some combination of ‘I miss you’ and ‘when can I see you?’ 

You do manage to spend a few days with him in the Rockies mid-July that fly by far too quickly. Every time you leave Brayden it gets harder and the implications of it all have your stomach in knots when the thought crosses your mind. 

-

It all comes to a head spectacularly the day before Nate’s day with the Cup. You’re at Nate’s, helping to prepare for the post-parade celebration when you’re called away by his sister. She wants your help deciding on which photos to display—it’s a mixture of past and present alongside an elementary school assignment two decades old wherein Nate declared his future profession would be ‘Stanley Cup Champion.’

You’re smiling, lost in the memories when Nate comes crashing into the room you’re in. There’s an indiscernible look on his face, but it reads somewhere between anger, frustration and hurt. The look on your face betrays your confusion, and it only deepens when you see your phone in his hands. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” you ask. 

His jaw ticks. “Thought it was mine.”

It doesn’t really do anything for your confusion. If anything, it deepens it. “What’s your problem Nate?”

“This! This is my problem.” He finally cracks, shoving your phone in your face to reveal messages from Brayden—under the contact name of the letter B and a heart—wondering when you plan on making the trip to Calgary to see him. Your stomach drops and your heart feels like it’s at risk of falling right out your chest. It was always going to come out, but especially as you crossed the line between sharing body heat with Brayden and sharing your secrets, hopes and dreams. 

That being said, it is a shit way for your relationship to come to light for sure, but you can’t help but feel your friend is overreacting. Sarah is looking between the two of you, panicked and frozen like she doesn’t know what to do. 

“I think your mom could use some help in the backyard, Sar,” you say gently, and she gladly takes the opportunity to flee. Once she’s gone, you turn on Nate. “I’m sorry that you found out this way, but you had no right to come in here like that. Poor Sarah looked terrified!”

He looks at you incredulously. Now that his sister is out of ear shot, he appears to have allowed himself to lean into his emotions a little more. “I have no right? What about you? Hooking up with some random guy in Calgary? Is that where you’ve been running off to these past few months?”

You know that this is probably the least important part of his rant, but you feel the need to clarify. “He’s not just some guy, Nate. His name is Brayden. And for the record, no. I wasn’t in Calgary, I was in Tampa.

He looks confused in addition to enraged, and so you put the pieces together for him. “I’ve been seeing Brayden Point.”

“You’ve been sleeping with the enemy?”

“Are you joking?” 

This is not your friend Nate. This is some angry being inhabiting the body of your friend Nate. 

He doesn’t back down. “It was between us and them in the final, pretty sure that qualifies as the enemy!” He pauses for a second and then continues, “How long have you been sleeping with him? During the final? Were you rooting for him instead?”

“Nate—“

“No, don’t Nate me. I bet you were, I bet you wanted them to win, him to win. I bet you were sitting there in the family box, using tickets I paid for, against me the whole time.”

“That’s not fair!” you try to interject, despite the tiny grain of truth to his words. It would be untrue to say some small part of you wanted Brayden to succeed, but your loyalties have always been with Nate and his team. 

“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t trust a thing you said right now. Not after this. Not when you know.” 

“Know what?” you question. 

“How I feel! About you. And me.” The blurred edges start to come into focus. He’s been acting like a man scorned, because in his eyes he is one. 

Unable to form any coherent thought, you repeat yourself from earlier. “Are you joking?”

He’s less angry now, slipping further into the hurt brewing under the surface. “It’s always been us. Since we were kids. And now you’re messing around with some guy on another team. I can't believe you!”

The tears start to pool at your waterline, but you’re too stubborn to let them fall. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You string me along for years and years and years, expecting me to play the part of your girlfriend without being your girlfriend and to wait around for you to figure it out. I am sorry you found out like this, but I’m not sorry about him. I’m not sorry about Brayden.”

He flinches at the sound of Brayden’s name, the anger clouding his eyes even further. “You want him so bad, why don’t you go to him right now?”

“Nate—“ You’re not sure he knows what he’s saying, what the implications of all he’s said really are. What it would mean if you left for Calgary this afternoon. What it would be like if you weren’t there tomorrow to join in his celebrations.

“Go.” When you don’t move he speaks again. “Get out of here.”

He hasn’t raised his fists or even his voice, but you do as he suggests. Calmly, begging the tears not to fall, you walk right out of his house and get in your car and you drive. 

Brayden picks up when you call while driving, and there’s a ticket in your inbox before you’ve even made it home. 

A short layover in Toronto—and with nothing but the clothes on your back and a small carry- on—later, you’re sinking into Brayden’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head where it’s buried in his chest. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaving hundreds of words unspoken in your gratitude. 

The kiss he pressed to your lips and the way he says ‘Anything for you’ tells you that he understands. 

He’s got his own place in an affluent suburb of the city, and you’re grateful for the fact that you won’t have to see anyone else with your puffy, bloodshot eyes. 

The last time you’d cried this hard, it had been over the loss of your childhood dog. Nate had been there then, flying in after a late game to hold you while you cried. Maybe you had misunderstood his feelings for you, missed the signs he thought he had laid out so clearly. Maybe that would have mattered a year ago. 

It doesn’t, now. 

Not when Brayden’s arms feel like home. His warm gaze feels like the sun. His kiss and his touch feel like heaven on earth. His love feels like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Your world nearly stopped in Nate’s living room, but it resumed spinning here in Brayden’s bedroom. 

You’re curled up on his chest while he soothingly runs a hand along your spine when you tell him. “I love you.”

His hand stills on the middle of your back, but you don’t panic. Your mind and heart are clear and in unison. He doesn’t make you wait long, cupping the back of your head and tilting your head back ever so slightly so that your eyes meet. 

“Yeah?” he asks like maybe he needs the validation. 

“Yeah,” you reply, giving it to him. 

The grin on his face might be worth everything you’ve been through. 

You squeal as he flips the both of you, ending in a position where his arms bracket either side of your head in order to keep from crushing you with his full weight. 

“I love you,” he repeats, kissing every inch of your exposed skin. 

Tangling your fingertips in the hair at the nape of his neck, you say it again and again and again. It’s a chant and a ritual, told between sighs and moans and whimpers. He strips you of your clothes, taking you apart piece by piece and then putting them all back together. 

It is intimate and sweet as he takes you to the highest peak, hearts and limbs and minds all intertwined. There is no doubt, no insecurity, no hesitation. All of the love you have to give is reflected back at you. You and Brayden are two sides of the same coin, destiny and fate and all the good forces in the world have brought the two of you together. 

That’s why when, in the dark of his room later, you say yes when he asks you to move in. 

-

Despite the apparent suddenness, your family is more than supportive of you and Brayden. Though that may be because he charmed the pants off all of them the following week when returning to your childhood bedroom to pack your things. 

Your niece is delighted when she learns that Brayden’s “job is hockey!” as she so sweetly declares, requesting he win her a Cup too. 

It reminds you of Nate and how you haven’t heard from him. You don’t reach out either. 

Your time in Calgary is short, punctuated by the bittersweet news that although many of your credits will transfer over, you’re not able to start college classes at the University of Tampa until the second semester. 

“Now you can come with me on all my road games,” Brayden says when you tell him. 

“Fat chance.”

Training camp sneaks up on you both and before you know it, you’re making the permanent move into Brayden’s bedroom and his life, publicly this time. 

The Tampa WAGs are sweet and welcoming, but you find yourself missing the Colorado Better Halves. That’s probably why you agree to dinner with Heidy the first time in the season that the Avs are in town. 

You make plans to meet at a cute spot downtown near the arena. 

The minute you spot Nate waiting outside, you start to turn around. Not so much as an Instagram like since the day before his day with the Cup and now he’s at one of your favorite restaurants in Tampa like everything is okay?

“Wait,” he says and for some reason you do, pausing mid turn. “I’m sorry.”

That’s enough to have you turning back around to look him in the eye as you scold him. “Really? I haven’t heard a word from you in months and that’s what you have to say?”

“I know,” he says. 

“You were really shitty Nate! You knew how I felt and apparently felt the same way, but you just took advantage of me and my feelings for you for years! And then, you made me feel like trash for falling for someone else.”

“I know,” he says again. 

“Can you say literally anything other than I know?” you say exasperatedly. 

“I—“ he starts and stops with the look you give him. “I don’t have a good explanation for the first bit. You’re right, I’ve been taking you for granted for a long time. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared to lose you if we ever crossed that line.”

“I get that,” you reply. “Why do you think I never said anything either? I’m less mad about that and more mad about you being a giant asshole about me meeting someone.”

He nods. “I know. I was jealous and hurt and I lashed out and hurt you too. I never meant for it to get like this, but the longer it took for me to reach out and apologize the harder it seemed. I am really sorry, and I’m happy you found someone who treats you the way you deserve.”

It’s a sincere apology and one you’re certain he means. Beyond that, you just miss your best friend and so you throw yourself at him in a big hug. He’s startled, but very quickly wraps his arms around you too. 

“Things aren’t magically okay, you really hurt me, but you’re my best friend and I’ve missed you so much. There’s been a million times where something happened and I wanted to tell you about it, but couldn’t.”

“You’re my best friend,” he says. 

Nate scores a goal during the second period of the game but it’s not enough for the Avalanche. 

Brayden comes home the clear winner to find you curled up in his bed. First he undresses and then he slips into bed beside you. 

“Glad you made up with Nate,” he says, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Glad you won,” you reply, feeling the way his lips curve in a smile against your neck and knowing he’s about to say something stupid and cringe. 

“In more ways than one, baby,” he laughs, caging you in with his arm as you struggle to get away from him and his bad jokes. “In more ways than one.”

Despite the way you playfully try to escape his clutches, the truth is you feel like you’re the real winner. 

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

[comphy-and-cozy]

i am wildly interested in what (and who) the "frat boy concept" is about??? because if anyone can write a frat hockey boy in the best type of the way, i know it's you -senditcolton

this one felt like a fever dream lmao it came to me out of the blue and I initially was thinking barzy but then I thought: cocky frat boy skjeisy has a really, really nice ring to it 😎

there's potential for it to blossom into a few parts, but for now it's the aftermath of hooking up with Good Friend brady at formal. a lil toxic, a lot of cocky, and a whole lot of smut. aka my specialty!

@senditcolton

#ask game #asks #senditcolton #wips

[smileysvech]

(warning: i'm going to be mean [but also you signed up for this])

husband, one night stand, best friend with your big three Carolina boys: Andrei, Brady, and Martin -senditcolont

@senditcolton oh this is tough but I truly believe there’s no wrong way to answer this so this is what i’ll go with:

husband: andrei bc I get him every day and night for the rest of my life

one night stand: brady bc we could have my dream birthday threesome fuck fest (@comphy-and-cozy you are literally the best for writing this 😘)

best friend: martin bc he’s so funny and i’d get to see nykki and gigi all the time

#asks #senditcolton #ask game

[wyattjohnston]

💘 is there any posted fic you want to re-work/re-edit/re-write?

&

💫 what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

(love you!!) -senditcolton

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

i'm really dissatisfied with the petey fic I wrote. i don't think i vibe with petey enough to even rework it into anything i like but if i had to pick one, that'd be it

💫 what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

when people pull lines or point out specific sections of the fic they like. it's fun to know which parts made people sit up a little straighter, or made a real expression form on their face

@senditcolton you're the best 💚💚💚

we got some questions for fic writers!

#demi answers a question #senditcolton #real writers asks

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” for the TTPD asks!

-senditcolton

☺️ @senditcolton

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - What three adjectives would you use to describe yourself?

sarcastic, sentimental, and stubborn (alliterative too, clearly 😂)

#asked and answered #senditcolton #i’m a gemini to my core lol

[sc0tters]

Speaking of threesomes, do u have any recommendations to read?

there are so many great ones on this app but here are some of my favourites that I could find right now!

OUT WITH A BANG by @holy-pucks (jt compher x reader x tyson jost) - this overall was really hot and well written, I haven't had a chance to finish it yet but I do know that there is a part two for those interested!

TOUCH ME LIKE A SUMMER NIGHT by @senditcolton (casey cizikas x matt martin) - this was actually my first introduction to both of these players and I have to say that it is still one of my favourite things that I have read to this day.

ADDICTIONS by @drysdalesv (trevor zegras x jack hughes) - you guys are getting the entire series linked here because of how much I loved it, this is honestly the entire reason why I started writing threesomes too!

↳ honourable mentions from this author

THE AFTER PARTY by @comphy-and-cozy (brady skjei x andrei svechnikov) - this one had me KICKING my feet I loved it so much, the whole new fling x old flame pairing had me rolling on the floor.

IN A BOX by @babydollmarauders (trevor zegras x jamie drysdale) - this had such a good progression that not only had me feeling like a puddle but also beyond speechless in the best ways possible.

DIGITAL ANIMALS by @burreaux-drys (ethan edwards x rutger mcgroarty) - THIS ONE, im still not over. literally if you're a reader for college boys go read this right now.

THE ROAD WIFE by @cellythefloshie (tampa bay lightning) - I put this at the end because I am not entirely sure that it counts as a threesome but like literally if you don't mind a bit of cheating then. you gotta get behind this one.

#amber recommends fics