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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: heat waves

summary: after a bad date, you find yourself on carmy's doorstep. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: so much pining you may be entitled to compensation after reading this, swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19, eventual smut.

word count: 3.5k

listen to: i like me better - lauv | ceilings - lizzy mcalpine | heat waves - glass animals (i'm sorry but this song invented sexual tension. full stop.) better than i know myself - del water gap

read: chapter two

“sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of june…” (heat waves – glass animals)

June 2021

You: Hey, I’m in your neighborhood. You around?

Carmy: Yeah, what’s up?

You: Want some company?

Carmy: 👍

You: Heading your way.

Carmy: It started raining. Be careful.

You: I noticed. Thanks, dad.

Carmy: 🙄

You’re not ready to go home yet as you head towards Carmy’s apartment. You’re not sure why you thought it was a good idea to download a dating app the other week… and you’re trying your best not to read into the fact that your first thought was to reach out to Carmy. Hesitant to tell him, you figure you’ll just surprise him by showing up like this – all dressed up.

It’s not like he’s your boyfriend. He probably won’t even notice, you think to yourself.

You hope he just doesn’t say anything – so that you don’t have to tell him you were on a date – but as soon as the torrential downpour starts, there’s no way he won’t say anything. You're only a block and a half away, so you decide to power through, storm be damned.

“Woah,” he says, as soon as he opens the door.

“‘Looks like you got caught in the rain’ woah, or…like a ‘you look overdressed’ kinda woah?” you ask back, your hair beginning to drip on the carpet.

“Both?” he offers up, trying his best to make it seem like he’s not checking you out. “You’re uh… fancy.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, not sure how much you’re going to reveal. It’s just not something you’ve really talked about yet and you’re ambivalent about how he may react. Hell, you’re ambivalent about how you feel about it too.

But Carmy hasn’t invited you in yet either, blocking your pathway as he tries not to make it blatantly obvious that he’s gawking at you. “I uh… sort of had a date.”

“Oh,” he mutters, before stepping aside to invite you in.

He takes a beat, watching you carefully as you enter his apartment.

“How’d it go?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Uh… not great,” you admit, with a shrug. “But I’m not sure what I expected either. Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Oh! Yeah sure,” he nods, hurrying into his bedroom.

Carmy mentally scolds himself for even asking. Would you really be here on his doorstep if it had gone well? He knows the answer, but what feels unfamiliar is the tight feeling that’s lodged itself in his chest.

He wonders when you started dating. It’s not like you’d said anything about it to him. It’s not like you owed it to him to say anything either. Were you on those apps he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around? Or maybe one of those investment banker fuckos that had come into the restaurant a few weeks ago. He’d been this close to burning the whole place down when he noticed one of them practically undressing you with their eyes as you’d walked by from your visit with another table.

Carmy returns to you with a pair of sweatpants and one of his pristine white t-shirts, his eyes fixed on you as you remove your shoes. The kitchen overhead is the only light that’s on, leaving most of the apartment lit only by the TV. You can see a few cigarette butts that have been aimlessly thrown across the ashtray he keeps on his coffee table, and you know he’s been smoking tonight.

“Pasta Grannies?” is all you ask, gesturing towards the TV.

“Yeah,” he nods. It’s as if he’s just remembered that he’s holding a dry pair of clothes for you, a look of panic plastered on his face. “Shit. I forgot. Here.”

“Thanks, Carm,” you say, taking them and disappearing into the bathroom for a quick change.

You examine your reflection in the mirror as you wring the excess water from your hair right into the sink. You take your time, tying your hair into a bun over the top of your head, immediately feeling at ease now that you’re here with him. While most of your makeup is gone, swept away by the rain, you feel much more like yourself in a pair of Carmy’s sweatpants that you ever felt in a fancy dress on that date. You hang your very wet dress over the shower curtain rod in Carmy’s bathroom to dry, before opening the door to rejoin him in the living room.

Carmy’s returned to the couch, his feet kicked up on the outside of the couch as he stretches out across it.

“Much better,” you comment, making your way towards him.

You settle into the couch with Carmy, curled up apart on opposite sides of the couch. It’s a comfortable pattern you’ve fallen into: hanging out, watching movies till 3 am while he smokes a few cigarettes to unwind from the day. You like this rhythm. And you like that it’s with him.

As another episode of Pasta Grannies begins, Carmy’s mind continues to race. He’s wracking his brain for any excuse to bring it up again – this whole, you dating thing.

He searches your face for any kind of in. He’s not sure what he’s looking for: a furrowed brow, a sigh of frustration, a look of dissatisfaction? Something he can ask about so that you’ll tell him more about your night. But as he examines you closely, trying his best to get a read on you, iit seems as if you’ve forgotten all about it, comfortably curled up on his shitty $50 dollar couch that he’d found at Goodwill.

“So… what was so bad about this date?” he finally manages to get out, surprising you.

You shrug, carelessly, “Men suck.”

Your answer makes him chuckle as he agrees with a, “Yeah, we do.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s asking. You and Carmy had never really talked about dating – save for a few stories about your exes here and there. You got the impression that Carmy hadn’t dated a lot at all, nor did he seem all that interested in dating. At least that’s what you’ve figured, considering you spend all of your time together and he’s not once tried to make a move.

“Uh…” you start, figuring you’ll elaborate since he’s taken such an interest. “Just… not great conversationalist. The guy spent half the night trying to convince me that cryptocurrency was worth investing in and uh… I don’t know. Just wasn’t there for me, I guess.”

“What?”

“You know… that spark, I guess.”

And he does. He feels it every single time you look at him with your ‘you’re totally pissing me off and I hate how endearing it is’ look. He feels it on the rare occasion that he makes you laugh. Every time he makes you a new dish he’s working on and you tell him how annoying it is that he’s this damn good.

“Yeah, no I uh-. Sounds like it’d be important,” he offers up, suddenly feeling out of his league. It’s not like he can commiserate or agree with you from experience.

“You uh… wanna watch something else?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject.

“Sure, yeah,” he replies, tossing you the remote.

“Thank you,” you smile at him as you take it.

You begin scrolling through his smart TV’s apps, searching for a movie to put on in the background. The sounds of the rain falling harder and harder against his apartment windows fill his ears since nothing is playing in the background just yet. He doesn’t remember hearing about a storm, but it must’ve come on unexpectedly.

Carmy watches you as you explore your options, and he feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest at the thought of some asshat sitting here on this couch with you – someone that’s not him. He swallows, suddenly aware that he’s clenching his fist. He relaxes it, beginning to fidget with a spare key chain that lays on the coffee table.

“You end up calling your brother?” you question, in reference to the last conversation you’d had about his Mikey.

You’d encouraged him to call, even though it seemed like Michael had been in touch lately.

“Yeah,” he sighs, disappointedly. “Didn’t pick up.”

“Sorry,” you sympathize, giving him an apologetic smile.

You decide on the first John Wick film when you learn that Carmy’s never seen it. You insist that it’s a classic and he tells you something along the lines of ‘that’s something my cousin would say.’ As the movie rolls on, you stretch your legs out, curling them in towards the back of the couch, while Carmy relaxes, taking up the space of the couch on the outside of you.

“I can’t believe you like this!” Carmy exclaims, gesturing towards the graphic depiction of violence on the TV. You watch Michael Nyqvist’s character shoot Willem Dafoe’s character multiple times, completely unphased, as he searches your face for any kind of emotional reaction.

“What?! Being a woman in a male dominated industry… I’ve found that watching action movies brings a sort of… catharsis to me,” you defend yourself playfully.

“So what you’re saying is… I’m sitting across from a psychopath?” he jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” you reply, matter of factly.

Carmy laughs dryly, his eyes flickering back to you. Your face, lit only by the dim cool hues of the television screen, seems more beautiful than ever. He wonders where the hell that thought came from, brushing it off like it’s nothing. Taking a more teasing tone, he lifts his head to ask:

“And how many times have you fantasized about doing that to me?”

You smirk, shaking your head as you reply, “You don’t want to know.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out the smallest chuckle, before settling back into his spot on the couch. You laugh once again, enjoying this way more than your fancy dinner date.

You’re not sure how you’ve both managed to fall asleep in the midst of an action movie, but when you finally come to, you’re halfway through the second John Wick film and Carmy’s fast asleep. Your phone’s managed to fall on the floor, and you have to lean over Carmy’s legs to grab it.

“Shit what time is it?” he stirs, peeking an eye open as you lean over his feet, reaching for your phone. He finds the TV remote right next to him, hitting the pause button.

“Uh… 2 am,” you answer, sleepily, beginning to sit up. “I should probably go.”

“No, I’m not gonna make you uh-… you wanna take the bed?” he asks, mirroring your body language and sitting up with you too.

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I’m comfy right here,” you reply, returning to your spot on the couch.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reassure him.

“Okay uh…” he says, making his way up to his feet. “... let me get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not that you wouldn’t take the bed, but you’d hate to kick him out of his own bed. And truthfully? You can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t even have a bed frame.

That’s right.

The man sleeps on a mattress on the floor.

As Carmy returns to you, pillow and thick comforter in hand, the only sounds that fill the room are the storm outside. You watch as he gently places the pillow down on the couch for you, and you thank him as you take the comforter, laying it across the couch.

The sounds of a low rumble of thunder fill your ears and you can feel the way the sound reverberates off of Carmy’s apartment.

“You sure you don’t want to take the bed?” Carmy asks you, running a tattooed hand through his messy curls.

“I’m sure,” you reply confidently.

“Okay,” he resigns himself. “Need anything else?”

Just you.

“No, Goodnight, Carmy,” you say, with a soft smile on your face.

“Goodnight,” he replies, with the slightest wave.

Carmy leaves you for his bedroom, closing the door behind him. You slide underneath the thick comforter he’s given you, closing your eyes in an attempt to lure yourself back into another slumber.

But it’s not so easy to fall asleep this time.

It’s funny… thinking about Carmy being in the next room. It’s not like you hadn’t fallen asleep together on the couch before. In fact, you’d napped on the couch with each other multiple times. And nothing had ever happened. You’d just slept. You wonder if you should’ve taken the bed. Should’ve told him to grow up and that you were both adults who could sleep in the same bed together without things getting weird. Unless…

All of a sudden, your mind is invaded with flashes of a fantasy: your fingers tangled in his perfect curls, his lips on yours, the way his body would feel on top of yours as you writhe underneath him…

Holy fuck. What are you thinking?! You and Carmy are just friends. Carmy doesn’t feel that way about you and you don’t feel that way about him, you think to yourself, snapping yourself out of the vision.

You go over the facts in your head, in an attempt to calm yourself down. You’ve been here before. He’s never made a move on you. You’ve never made a move on him.

You’re just friends.

Maybe you just need a cold glass of water… or a cold shower…

As you sit up to get a glass of water, you let out the smallest gasp as Carmy’s bedroom door swings open. He stands there, staring at you with unwavering eye contact – one of those long languid looks that used to think meant he hated you.

For a moment, then tension is thick. You hear another crack of thunder that shakes the floor as a bright flash of lightning from outside electrifies every molecule inside of his apartment. If anything were to happen between the two of you, it had to be now, right?

“Water,” is all he says.

“What?” you ask, trying your best to hide your surprise that that’s all he said.

“I-, I forgot water,” he stammers out, beelining for the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you reply as you rise to your feet.

You follow him into the kitchen area, maintaining your distance as you watch him fill up two glasses of water. You’re not sure what’s come over you tonight, but there’s something different inside of you. As he hands you the glass of water he’s filled for you, you could swear he gives you the most wistful look you’ve ever seen, making it impossible not to get lost in how blue his eyes are.

“You okay?” he asks you when you don’t take the glass of water.

Calm down, you think to yourself.

“Yeah, sorry. Just tired,” you whisper, finally taking the glass from him.

And just when you think this is all in your head and that Carmy’s going to return to his bedroom with a second thought about it, he doesn’t. He just stands there in the middle of the kitchen with you. He doesn’t take a sip of his water. He stays, his eyes fixed on you as the storm outside rages on, another crack of thunder ricocheting through the apartment.

It’s much louder this time – the loud booms and cracks of thunder alternating with brilliant flashes of lightning.

Carmy opens his mouth to say something as the room is temporarily lit by another flash, but he can’t figure out what to say either. It’s just the two of you, holding glasses of water in your hands, trying your fucking best not to drop them as you stare at each other. He doesn’t know what he’d even say to you:

You’re irresistible when you wear my clothes.

I’m holding onto this glass of water so tightly it may shatter.

I think I might love you.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t do anything.

He doesn’t take a step towards you and you don’t either.

You hope he can’t hear the shaking in your voice as you say, “Goodnight, Carmy. And uh, thanks. For the water.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, your words snapping him out of his head.

“Goodnight.”

As you wake the next morning, you can’t figure out what the hell had gotten into you last night. You almost crossed the line with him – with Carmy, with your best friend – threatening everything you’ve built together. You’re relieved that you didn’t, that neither of you said anything, because the idea of this ending scares the hell out of you.

“How’d you sleep?” Carmy asks as he comes out of his bedroom, his curls unruly and all kinds of wild.

In the light of day, you know it would’ve been a stupid idea – what could’ve happened seeming more and more preposterous the longer you think about it.

“Not great, but I’ve had worse,” you answer honestly.

“Should’ve taken the bed,” he points out, an ‘I told you so’ on the tip of his tongue.

“Carmy,” you sigh, unwillingly.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

“No, what’s up?” he asks you, taking a few steps toward you. He’s not tall, but he towers over you as you remain seated on his couch. You rise to your feet so that you have a little ground to stand on as you muster up the courage to finally tell him.

“You need to get a bed frame. You’re a grown ass adult,” you demand, eliciting another dry laugh from him. You take a step towards him, closing some of the distance between the two of you. “And when that happens… I’ll take the bed.”

He shakes his head. He knows you’re right, and he can’t believe it’s taken this long for you to tell him.

“Heard, chef.”

It’s another few weeks before you let yourself go over to Carmy’s – partially because you like hanging out your place with him more, and partially because you’re terrified that whatever juju put those thoughts in your head that night may take you over again. But it doesn’t, and you’re more than pleasantly surprised to see that he’s purchased a bed frame. It’s nothing fancy – just bed slats and risers – but it’s a bed frame nonetheless.

“You ready?” Carmy asks you, as he’s just finished putting his shoes on.

“Yeah,” you reply, slipping off your jacket.

“There’s usually a ton of a/c in the shop. You might get cold?” he suggests.

The sight of your bare shoulders in the tank top you’re wearing causes his brain to short circuit for a second.

“Oh I know, but I like yours more,” you reply, reaching for one of his denim jackets that hangs on the coat hook.

He smiles, watching you slip into the jacket.

His jacket.

The one he let you borrow you the night he got promoted to CDC.

“Now I’m ready. What’re you gonna get by the way?” you ask curiously, in reference to the tattoo appointment you’re accompanying him to.

“Uh… was thinking like… a hand with a chef’s knife going through it. You know. On my hand,” he shares with you.

“You’re so weird,” you blurt out, even though you find it the most endearing.

He is. And yet, you’ve stuck around so far.

“Yeah, I am,” he chuckles to himself.

“He literally bought a bed for you!” Liz exclaims enthusiastically, one night after work.

“For himself,” you correct her in hushed tones, asking her to lower her voice.

“Uh no… for you. Because you told him to. And because he wants to get you in it… naked,” she replies. She lets out a frustrated groan before turning to you. “You know what me and Maya call you?”

“What?” you ask, bracing for whatever nickname she’s about to share with you.

“The Queen of Denial,” she says.

“What!?” you exclaim this time, defensively.

Liz chooses to ignore your response, knowing that your defensiveness comes from the fact that you know she’s right.

“Why are you going out on these dates with guys you don’t even like when Carmy is right there?” she asks you, pointing out the obvious.

“I-, I don’t know. I don’t get the sense that he’s interested in dating… anyone,” you admit, your voice softer this time.

“Well, have you asked him?” she states, as if she already knows the answer.

“We talked about it once,” you hesitate.

“Bullshit! The conversation about what Nate said doesn’t count!” she pushes you.

You sigh. There’s so much fear for you here: fear of losing him as your friend, fear of making yourself look like a fool, fear of letting Carmy love you.

Because it just feels safer not to acknowledge any of these things.

“I don’t know,” you admit, quietly. “After my last relationship I just… I don’t know if I'm ready, I guess. And then pandemic happened and it was a much welcomed break from dating. I didn’t expect… I didn’t think Carmy and I would get this close. I don’t want to fuck up what we have right now, you know? Dating other people feels like… lower stakes.”

Liz takes a moment to let you hear what you’ve just said, but with an unwavering determination, she’s not letting you off the hook.

“Sweetie, I love you. And I know you don’t want to get hurt again. But one of these days you are going to have to own up to what’s really going on between the two of you. Sooner rather than later. For all of our sakes,” she pleads.

She’s right.

You know she’s right.

But you’d also like getting to pretend, even for a little while.

Because pretending is easy… uncomplicated… and right now, it seems to work for both you and Carmy.

Fuck, you were fucked.

read chapter four

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @the-nursery

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos

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allthecanadianpolitics · 8 months

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The latest on the heat wave:

At least eight heat records fell Monday.

Lytton recorded a high of 40.2 C — the highest temperature anywhere in Canada this year.

Environment Canada has issued heat warnings along British Columbia's South Coast.

Several cities in Metro Vancouver and the Fraser Valley have opened up dedicated indoor cooling centres.

A repeat of the 2021 heat dome is not in the forecast, but health officials suggest people stay out of the heat, drink plenty of water and limit activity this week.

Advocates are calling on municipalities to consider setting a maximum temperature for rental units.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#british columbia #Heat wave #BC Heat wave #climate change #Climate crisis #cdnpoli

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itsstrange · 8 months

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Pool Party

Fandom: Supernatural / The Boys

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: Had this idea when I woke up from bed lol idk I sometimes be getting the randomness ideas either in the shower or waking up from a dream, but I’m not complaining because they turn out to be loved by so many of you 😆

Summary: “Wanna go for a swim?” Just a harmless offer right? Nothing dangerous right?

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Pool Sex, Fingering, Confessions, and once again 18+

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ENJOY 😉 🔥

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———————

(Y/n) walked back and forth in her home gathering everything she needed for the party and loaded them into her car. Extra bags of chips, couple gallons of sodas, some juice boxes for the little ones, cases of beers for the adults, her famous birthday cinnamon roll lasagna cake, and finally the gift for the birthday girl. Once she was sure everything was packed and ready to go, she grabs her keys, phone, a lollipop and is finally out the door.

The drive to his house was probably 15 to 20 minutes away from her, which was good for many reasons. If he needed a favor she was there in a matter of minutes, if she needed a favor he was there in under 10, maybe 15 if he had the little ones in his truck. Point is, the distance to his house from hers was perfect.

Finally arriving and pulling into the beautiful home, she notices how multiple cars were neatly parked inside the driveway. Some she recognized where some she didn’t, however, she did spy Jared’s red 2021 Ram parked near the entrance of the home and noticed how a reserved sign was near the truck, causing a scoff to escape from her. Of course he’d save a spot for her, he always made her park inside his home rather than out in the streets, said he felt ‘much more comfortable’ knowing her car was visible. Although, despite his dramatic-ness, (Y/n) couldn’t help the way her chest warmed up every time he cared for her. Even if it was the smallest things, her chest warmed up, as well as her heart fluttering uncontrollably. He just had that effect on her.

Once parking, she opens the trunk to start unloading the bags, however, just as she was about to grab the third bag a familiar voice settles beside her before another pair of hands is helping her with the dessert plate.

“Thanks Alan,” She tells Jensen’s father as he walks with her towards the entrance of the home,

“No problem kiddo, figured you needed a hand,”

“You saw me coming in?” She asks as they both make their way towards the kitchen,

He shakes his head, placing the plate on the counter, “Was actually heading towards my car to grab some sunglasses. Suns’ bright today,”

A chuckle leaves her lips as she places the bags on an empty space, “Sure is, heard it’s gonna be a hot one today,”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “It’s aiming for the 90’s,”

(Y/n) chuckles in disbelief. It wasn’t even summer yet and they’re already heading towards a heat wave. Gotta love Austin, Texas.

Heading back towards her car, she shuts the trunk and opens the back seat where the birthday present laid. Which literally engulfed her whole car from how big it is. She’s actually surprised she was even able to see from her rear mirror from how big the damn present was.

“Jesus Christ, you hunt down a bear or somethin?” Alan comments after watching her struggle in taking out a large, really large stuffed bear,

She chuckles as she pulls on the large foot, “Something like that. Went to five different places for this damn thing,”

The older man only chuckles at her with a shake of his head when she finally frees the stuffed bear from her small poor car. How exactly did she manage to stuff a 6 foot bear into her 8 series BMW? She wasn’t sure either, but she made it to the party, which was all that mattered. Locking her car and taking the stuffed bear, that nearly engulfed her, she heads back towards the home. Obviously she had help, Alan grabbed a hold of some part of the bear to prevent it from blocking her sight, otherwise she’d either walk into a wall or tripped over some stairs.

After convincing Alan she’d be able to make it to the living room without killing herself, he chuckles as he makes his way to the backyard just as she carefully makes her way down the small stairs that lead towards the living room, where she planned on leaving the bear for now. As she semi struggled to place the stuffed animal on the ground, that deep familiar voice she loves hearing, rings beautifully in her ears.

“Oh god, you actually got it,” It wasn’t even a question, it sounded more like if he was shocked but not shocked that a 6 foot bear was now being laid in the center of his living room,

A wide smile spreads on her face, even if the large stuffed animal hid it from him as she carefully placed it on the carpeted floor. Turning around with a wide smile, she excitedly points at the teddy.

“Pretty cool huh?” She looks back at the monstrosity, who had a large black bow tie around his neck,

Jensen hums in agreement, even if he definitely did not think so.

The moment JJ had asked for the bear Jensen knew her wish was gonna come true, because knowing (Y/n) all too well he knew she would happily deliver. Especially when she knew Jensen was against the whole idea, but even then, Jensen was never able to say no to either one of them.

“They actually had a bigger one, but that one wouldn’t have fit in my car,”

“How tall was the other one?” He furrows his brows at her, already having a horrifying picture of its height,

She shrugs her shoulders, “About 7 or 8 inches taller,”

Jensen only scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head with a smile tugging on his lips. He will never get tired, or use to her wild imaginations. She was unique, and he loved it.

Slightly grinning at the present she turns around to face the Texan, only to feel her smile widening when she realizes what exactly he’s wearing. A light blue short sleeve with pink mermaids and dolphins laid on top, with black cargo shorts and converse on his feet. He looked absolutely adorable, yet handsome at the same time. He could honestly slay any look without any effort.

“Cute shirt,” She tells him with a smirk,

Sharing the same look on his lips, Jensen looks down at his shirt before looking back at her, “The girls picked it out, so I had no other option,”

A chuckle escapes from her as she walks towards him and lets a forefinger gently prod at a pink mermaid that’s on his stomach, “Don’t lie, you wanted to wear it,”

When she averts her (E/c) eyes up to his apple orbs, she hadn’t realize just how close she was to him. Only a couple inches stood between them as they stared at each other, and it was up to either one of them to reach out to close the gap, but neither made the first move, even if they both shared the same thoughts without even knowing.

As Jensen hovered over her, bright green eyes staring straight down at her own beautiful (E/c) orbs, he had the biggest urge to touch her, taste her lips, he has been for a while now, but restrained himself from doing so. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship for having feelings she most likely didn’t have towards him. But she did. He just didn’t know it.

She’s been sharing the same feelings since the day they first met, which made her feel guilty at first since he was married at the time, but even after he got divorced she didn’t indulge or press on the feelings. It wasn’t the right time nor it was appropriate. The man had just ended his marriage, he was hurt, healing, what he needed was a friend, not someone who was taking advantage of the moment to express her feelings or tell him she ‘was the one’ it would just be selfish and absolute heartbreaking if he’d reject her if it had happened. So instead of letting her feelings take over, (Y/n) became what Jensen needed the most, a friend, and has been ever since.

Nothing changed after that, yeah she still loved him and wished for more, but she also still loved being friends with him. Before (Y/n) even realized her feelings towards the man they were good friends, and now after a couple months later of the divorce their friendship still held strong, which is all she wanted for them.

“Hey Ackles!” The sound of Jared’s voice coming into the room causes them both to break eye contact, “Oh hey (Y/n),”

She smiles at him as he quickly engulfs her small frame with his large arms and pecks the top of her head before pulling away to direct his eyes at Jensen, “Your old man needs more pepper,”

Jensen nods his head, “Alright I’m comin,”

Gently punching his shoulder with a nod, Jared leaves the room. Leaving the space around them to be extremely difficult to breathe for some odd reason, but Jensen was quick to avoid the unsettling tension.

“C’mon,” He motions his head out the living room, “I’m sure the kiddos are dying to see you,”

At his words he lets his fingers interlock with her own, causing her body to go rigid, definitely was not expecting that but shrugs it off by allowing the man to lead her out the room, even if she can walk around his house with eyes closed she still lets him guide her out the house. Once making a quick stop to grab some pepper from the kitchen he leads them out the house, fingers still interlocked with each other until he lets her go out the doors first before following after. He wasn’t going to lie, he was freaking the fuck out when he interlocked their fingers, he thought she’d push him away, curse at him, but watching as she didn’t do anything only made him freak out even more. Did she like it? Or was she uncomfortable that she just allowed it? Or did she actually like holding hands with him? Question after question appeared in his head as he made his way over to his father who was preparing the burgers.

Turning around after giving him the pepper Jensen turns around at the perfect time, from where he stood he watches as she engulfs a squealing JJ into her arms before spinning them both in the center of the yard, causing his heart to flip in his chest at the sight. What makes a smile appear on his lips was the moment she walks towards his other two kids, Zep and Arrow, who also run towards her with wide smiles and open arms. Just the sight alone of her interacting with his kids, treating them as if they were her own and giving them so much love was enough for Jensen to realize, he was madly in love with her.

If only she felt the same way right?

++++

10:30 pm

After eating multiple burgers, drinking multiple beers and juice boxes, singing happy birthday to the birthday girl, opening her presents and surprising her with the large Teddy, the day was finally coming to an end. Once it had hit 9pm, a lot of the kiddos were absolutely drained from running around the house, or just being in the water all day, that’s including Jensen’s little ones. Once they were all tucked into bed, it was pretty soon when a lot of family members began leaving the party. A couple people still remained, like Jensen’s family, Jared’s family, Misha and his kids stayed for a while before heading off to their hotel since they had an early flight the next day, and other good friends stayed. But once it hit 10pm everyone began parting their ways, only leaving Jared, Genevieve, Jensen’s parents and (Y/n) at the house, where they soon began picking up trash from left to right.

Even if Jensen told everyone to leave it alone and he’ll clean up tomorrow, everybody continued picking up trash from tables and the floor. Causing Jensen to let out a soft chuckle when (Y/n) only shoves him the plastic black bag to hold as she throws in empty beer cans and bottles. Making it look less a mess and easier to deal with the next morning. Once the backyard looked semi decent, and Jensen’s father finished cleaning up the grill, both his parents, Jared and Gen give their farewells before leaving. Once he walked them towards the entrance of the home, Jensen makes his way back to the backyard, where (Y/n) remained piling the trash bags together in one corner.

“Hey c’mon leave that there, I’ll do it myself tomorrow,” Jensen stops her by her wrist as she reaches for another trash bag,

she gives him a smile, “It’s the least I can do, I mean we did trash your house,”

Jensen softly chuckles with a shake of his head, “You already do so much for us.. for them,”

A warm, shy, smile spreads on her face, a smile that Jensen has grown to love.

With the smile still plastered, she shrugs a shoulder, “I love you guys,”

Oh how those words made Jensen feel as if he was floating in the air, like some cheesy romance movie with hearts surrounding them. But even if those words weren’t exactly meant the way he’s taking it, it still sounded absolutely amazing to hear those words fall from her lips. However, little did he know she did mean her words, and she was honestly freaking out when she finally admitted to him.

Green eyes stared into (E/c) ones in silence. Only the sounds of crickets chirping around them was heard. It was honestly peaceful, they both felt at ease as they stared at each other. If it wasn’t for the small fear riding at the back of his head, he would have had her lips on his by now, but the fear still lingered the more he wanted to give in to the urge. Yet, he already was giving into it, he hadn’t realize he still held onto her wrist nor did he realize his thumb was gently rubbing circles on her skin, but once he did, he still didn’t let her go. He craved for her touch, but he wanted to do more than touch her, he wanted to hold her in his arms, feel her warmth day and night.

Which gives him an idea.

“Wanna go for a swim?” He says after a while of silence, motioning his head towards the pool,

(Y/n) chuckles, “At this time?”

Jensen causally shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t see why not?”

A scoff leaves her lips when she watches him walk backwards towards the pool as he keeps their gazes locked with a smirk. He eventually turns and stands on the edge of the pool before discarding his clothes. First his shirt revealing his muscular shoulders, then his shoes, socks, and finally his shorts. (Y/n) should definitely look away, but she just couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on the man’s half naked frame, feeling the way her mouth goes dry the longer she stares. (E/c) eyes roamed his muscular back and down towards his ass that we’re sadly covered by his black briefs.

Slowly, very slowly, she averts her eyes from his bottom to his shoulders once again, but just as she rises her eyes they immediately lock with his. She feels herself go stiff when he catches her staring, causing her face to grow hot. Although, instead of teasing her with a smart ass remark, he just sends her a smirk before diving into the pool. Giving (Y/n) a couple seconds to catch her breath before he emerges from the water. (Y/n) remained standing in her spot as she watches the way droplets of water cover his perfectly shaped face, and the way it had flattened his hair, and definitely not being able to push aside the feeling that forms in between her legs when he slicks his wet hair back.

“C’mon, water feels great,” Jensen tells her, smile slightly tugging on his lips as he keeps himself up float,

Aside from feeling the way her core begins throbbing for this man, she still sends him a scoff, “You’re crazy,”

And making me horny. She mentally thinks to herself.

“You can wear my shirt,” Even if I prefer nothing on you right about now. Jensen thought to himself, still keeping that welcoming smile on his lips,

(Y/n) intakes a deep breath through her nose and let’s it back out through her nose while slightly tilting her head to the side. She hates how he can easily convince her without even trying. With hesitating steps, (Y/n) toes off her shoes along with her socks before making her way towards his shirt. Picking it up she stares at it in her hands and then towards Jensen, who only sends her a wide grin before turning around to give her some privacy while she changes. The moment he does, she quickly slides her jeans down her legs, not catching how he sneaks a glance at her and not knowing how quick his member jolts in his briefs. However, right when she stands from removing her jeans he turns back around and waits patiently until she allows him to look.

Speechless is what happens when his green orbs land on her frame. His shirt was rather large on her frame, making it look like a dress on her, only her smooth legs were exposed to him. She looked absolutely fucking beautiful, breathtaking under the moon light, if it weren’t for the fear and respect he had towards her, he would’ve already had her in his arms.

The look that settles on his face was visible as day, earning a shy smile to form on her lips as she shyly places a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks burning as he continues to stare at her. Observing her, admiring her frame.

Eventually, she slowly walks towards the edge of the pool where Jensen swims to meet her halfway. Her feet were the first to make contact with the water as she sat on the edge of the pool, it really did feel amazing against her skin, fresh and just the right temperature.

Without a word, Jensen swims towards her, keeping himself upright in front of her, her knees touching his chest as he reaches towards her hips. Gripping onto his firm shoulders as he carefully and effortlessly carries her into the water, not once did they avoid gazes. Bright green and glistening (E/c) orbs kept a firm lock on each other, never parting away from each other, not even after she made it into the water.

“Feel good?” Jensen suddenly whispers, voice laced with thickness, eyes still staring deeply into her own,

A small smile tugs on her lips as she too couldn’t seem to avert her gaze, “Feels good,” she responds to him small smile tugging on the corner of her lips,

Still smiling at her he slowly lets her go, allowing her to swim freely around the pool, green eyes not once averting from frame not even when she dives under the water for a split second. Hell, when she emerges from underneath it was a goddamn sight for him, her beautiful hair slicked back, the moons light shining off her beautiful skin, Jesus.. she is fucking breathtaking. He honest to god doesn’t understand how her previous dickhead of an ex thought it’d be a great idea to go ahead and cheat on her, that stupid idiot doesn’t know what he lost, however, what he will know is she has been found by someone who will most definitely love her like she deserves to be loved, cared for, spoiled and not discriminated.

“You building something back there?” Her soft voice breaks him out of his thoughts, noticing how she leaned against the edge of the pool and staring straight ahead where his next project was under construction,

A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slowly swims towards her, bare shoulder touching her own, “JJ and the twins want horses,”

He tells her with a defeated sigh, earning a surprised look from her along with a heartfelt chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up having a whole farm out there,”

Jensen groans with a shake of his head, “Don’t.. don’t encourage them please. I definitely won’t survive, especially when you four gang up on me,”

Another chuckle escapes from her, “I don’t influence nor do I encourage them into anything,” she says as she splashes him,

“Oh yeah?” He raises a brow at her as he continues, splashing her back, “So you didn’t influence them into having a full blown war with those mini nerf guns?”

“Hey, you gotta admit. That was a fun day, besides if I remember correctly you were also apart of that war,” She points out, splashing him once again with water only this time it reaches his face, causing him to close his eyes with a deadpan look,

When he slowly opens his eyes, they lock with her own, a smile slowly spreading on her face as she mumbles an apology to him, but instead of accepting it he lunges at her, causing a small yelp to leave her lips. Yet, before he can wrap his large arms around her she uses her feet to push against the wall to escape from him. Loud giggles are shared as they chase one another in the water, splashing each other, pushing each other until eventually as she was focused on rapidly splashing him with water she didn’t notice how he dove underneath and swam towards her. In matter of seconds another loud yelp with a giggle leaves her lips when she feels the way his large arms wrap around her waist that slightly lifting her out of the water before bringing her back inside.

She emerges from the water throwing profanities at him as she removes wet strands of hair from her face with heartfelt giggles. Displaying a wide grin and letting deep chuckles escape from his lips, Jensen helps removing hair from her face. However, just as he tucks a wet strand behind her ear they lock eyes, bright green emeralds stare straight into her orbs, smile slowly fading as he observes her features, feeling the way his chest becomes heavy, a feeling he can no longer hold in anymore. A feeling he’s been pushing aside for what seemed like ages, a feeling he’s been trying to hide, but now, with her in front of him, skin soaked and illuminating beautifully underneath the moonlight, those eyes he’s fallen dearly for, and that smile that he can never get tired of has him losing the battle.

So slowly and hesitant he cups her cheek with the same hand that tucked a hair behind her ear, and lets it rest there as he continues to stare into her eyes in silence. Waiting for her to say or do anything to stop him, but when she doesn’t and only stares up at him with now widen, pleading eyes, he slowly oh so slowly begins bending down. He hovers over her lips, giving her the opportunity to push away, to stop, when she doesn’t he finally allows their lips to collide with each other in a soft, gentle manner.

They share two, slow, lasting pecks before he slowly pulls away. Green eyes observing her own, trying to read any regret, any doubt, but when he only reads reassurance a small tug can be seen on the corner of his lip before he once again bends down. Letting their lips mold together much firmer. The kiss slowly begins escalating, becoming more heated as they share their warmth, their hidden feelings, their love. No words were needed, the way they both desperately kissed one another was enough for either one to know how the other felt.

Being completely lost and focused on the way his lips fitted perfectly with her own or the fact that his tongue would smoothly and perfectly dance with her own, (Y/n) hadn’t realized Jensen was slowly guiding them backwards, until she feels something firm settling on her back and feeling the way he easily lifts her from under her legs which she automatically wraps around his own waist. The kiss never falters, not even when he pins her against the wall of the pool or when their hips meet in the middle, causing a groan to rumble in his throat where a broken moan escapes from her mouth. However, after the fourth thrust she couldn’t bare it no longer, she wanted him, she needed him now.

“Jensen,” She breathlessly whispers his name against his lips as he once again rubs his covered member against her aching core,

Slightly pulling away to look into her eyes, his words fall breathlessly from his mouth, “You sure?”

Damn him and his well-mannered side. It shouldn’t turn her on at the fact that he’s asking for her consent, but fuck does it ignite her emotions even more for this man.

Breath coming out harshly through her mouth she nods her head, (E/c) eyes looking directly into his green orbs, “Yes. Please..please,”

The last beg came out a little more desperate and whiny but she could care less at this point. Hell, he could care less because as soon as those words came out he pecks her lips one last time before averting his lips to the side of her neck. His hands that were placed underneath her bottom, make their way down her body to the hem of his shirt before pulling it off her frame. Tossing it somewhere outside the pool he lets his lips explore, as he lavished the new piece of revealed skin he lets one hand travel behind to undo her bra. Placing it outside the pool he slightly angles his head to look at her completely.

And ohh did she look absolutely gorgeous. Skin beautifully slicked with droplets of water falling down her entire frame, lips raw and swollen, eyes completely dilated, chest displayed to him and only him. She looked absolutely breathtaking.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers as he bends down to latch his lips onto hers,

A small broken whimper can be heard in between them as he ghostly begins traveling his fingers against her bare stomach until he reaches the waistband of her underwear, where he then slowly begins sliding the garment down her legs. Once off he places them above her head, near the edge of the pool.

A small shiver travels through her body as he leaves feathery kisses throughout her chest, yet, the same time a shiver rolls through a moan escapes from her when she suddenly feels the way his thick digits begin circling against her clit. Then a gasp when two fingers slowly push past her folds.

“So fucking perfect,” Jensen whispers against her parted lips, sinking his digits deeper, earning another whimper from her,

“Fuck baby… you’re so tight,” He whispers again just as his finger is knuckle deep into her aching core,

Her hips begin moving the same time he starts moving in and out in at a slow pace, which drove her mad. As much as she wanted him to take his time in prepping her, teasing her, cherishing her, making her cum with just his fingers, she wanted more. She needed more. So with another broken moan, a pleading tone and a desperate thrust of her hips she hoped he would read on what she truly yearned.

Which he must’ve had because his breath fans hotly against her lips as he gently retrieves his fingers from her mound, leaving her empty for a couple seconds as he quickly shoves his briefs down, far enough where his aching member is free. Panting against her lips he easily guides her down until he feels the tip of his cock rubbing firmly against her folds, earning another moan to rip out from her as he rubs on her a few more times. Then, with a gentle swift motion he slides right inside causing a loud gasp to escape her parted lips.

A groan rumbles in his throat as he stills inside of her, taking long steady breaths through his nose as he focuses on not reaching the end right there and then. Because fuck, she felt absolutely heavenly. Her walls hugged him tightly as she too grew accustomed to his girth, taking slow breaths through her nose with eyes closed.

When she slowly parts them open, she immediately locks with dark, hooded green eyes. Only a sliver outline of green can be seen considering his pupils have dilated, it was then she took in his appearance, despite his hungry look in his eyes, his lips were also raw and swollen, shades of red tinted his cheeks to the tips of his ears, droplets of water slid beautifully on his skin, hair damped and disheveled from her fingers constantly running through them. He looked absolutely magnificent, everything about him shined beautifully underneath the moonlight.

“I love you,” She finds herself whisper, hand reaching to cup the side of his cheek,

A large hand also cups the side of her jaw, long fingers cradling the back of her neck before slowly and gently guiding her face closer to his.

“I love you,” He whispers back, gently latching their lips once again,

A small choked whimper vibrates against his lips just as he begins grinding his hips against her, then a gasp when he pulls out of her only to push back in with a little more force. He keeps the pace up for a few minutes, just luxuriating and getting lost in the way they both feel around each other, the way he feels her tightening around him with every thrust, the way she feels him inch by inch. It was such a delicious rich feeling. A such beautiful intimate moment.

However, after a heavy sigh and breathlessly saying his name against his lips he picks up the pace. Waves beginning to flow around them as his speed slowly increases, soft moans fall from her parted lips, eyes closing when the familiar pooling sensation begins to build at the bottom of her core from the way his speed only picks up. The waves forming stronger around them from his pace, but only calming for a second as he quickly maneuvers them towards the ladder. Snaking both arms beneath her knees and pinning her against the ladder, where she manages to grab some grip on the rails, a breathless groan falls against his lips as he fastens his pace. Waves now splashing around them, moan after moan slipping from her mouth at the change of speed. Eyes closing shut from pleasure when his hips meet with her own, his cock hitting and stretching deliciously along her aching walls.

Due to his change of speed and his hips hitting her clit with each thrust he gives, she quickly begins reaching the end of the line. What finally makes the dam break would be him gripping onto her hips and slamming her down in time with his brutal thrusts, his cock repeatedly hitting that one spot that has her seeing stars right before feeling her vision goes dark for a few seconds.

Grunting from the sudden tightness that engulfs him, Jensen breathlessly groans on the side of her neck as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm, quickly feeling his own rising. Which after a couple thrusts later a heavy breathless groan slips from the man as he finally stills inside of her, feeling himself twitch inside her raw and abused walls right as he feels the way his thick seed paints her insides.

“Oh.. fuck,” He pants against her neck, body slightly twitching from the intense orgasm,

They both remain holding on to each other for a few more minutes. Riding both their high’s together and catching each others breath. After minutes passed, Jensen slowly lifts his head from the crook of her neck, green tired orbs meeting with her own, feeling the way his lip tugs upward at the sight of her and the fact that she was finally his. The three words repeating over and over in his head, feeling the way his chest expands knowing she was finally his.

Not being able to contain himself, he lets the word fall freely once again before gently latching onto her lips. They shared a few, long, loving pecks before pulling away from each other to climb out the pool and get dressed. Despite their clothes being soaked to the brim, they still slipped them on before making their way inside the home hand in hand, not once parting from each other, not even when Jensen nearly fell on his ass when he slightly slipped along the wooden floor as they made their way towards his bedroom. A couple giggles erupted from them as they carefully walked towards his room.

Once inside, they quickly shed their soaking clothes before hopping into the shower, where they remained standing under the shower head until the water that was once warm turning cold against their skin and leaving them with pruned fingers. After drying their bodies with a towel, Jensen slipping into a pair of clean briefs and (Y/n) shrugging on one of his clean t-shirts along with some sweats of his, they both climb into bed where their limb’s perfectly tangle together.

They stayed awake, softly talking to one another, enjoying each others warmth, sharing various stories about everything and anything until eventually (Y/n) slowly starts dozing off. Cheek resting heavily against his chest, his heartbeat softly soothing her to sleep.

“God I love you,” He whispers, pulling another warm, happy, smile on his face,

Gently, he pulls her closer towards him, leaving a long kiss on the crown of her head before finally letting sleep overpower him. Despite feeling relief now that he knows she too shared the same feelings, that she is finally his, he still can’t help the small voice at the back of his head. He knows this will be challenging, there will be days where it will be difficult to get through, but as long as she held on to him through the obstacles he knew they’d be okay. He knew she’d never let him down, and he knew she knew he’d never let her down. He loves her, and he will damn sure fight for their love, because except for his kids she is also his reason to keep going in life. To keep pushing.

Because she’s worth fighting for.

————————

-> Alright y’all hope you guys liked this one, it has been dusting away in my drafts and it’s about time it sees the light!

-> Just wanna say, writing smut is not my strong suit, still trying to make it better for y’all so I do apologize if it’s not good enough 😌

-> Lastly, thank you to everyone who continues to read my crappy posts Much love! 🫶💗

-> Make Sure To Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For More Updates!

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x female!reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #the boys #mature

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matthewtkachuk · 8 months

Text

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

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