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gunraekae · 1 month

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love transcending time - aka the ikevamp prologue still unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: here are chapters 3 and 4 of the prologue. it's about 5k words long, so sit back and relax, and I hope you enjoy. i have some shorter works coming soon!

Chapter III: The Hourglass

Outside the lavish mansion where a puzzling banquet was being hosted was a lush coach stopped just past the grand gates. The coachman turned towards his passenger, a rose-haired man who donned a thousand masks. The man, who sometimes played the part of a king, a prince, a lover, but always in all, a liar. He spoke with the ambiguous tone of someone who could laugh or cry at the next word, “... I apologize my good sir, but I have decided not to stay after all.” He faced away from the cruelly smiling crescent moon to re-enter the coach.

The baffled coachman asked, “But Monsieur, what about the banquet?”

The mysterious passenger ominously chuckled in return, “Capricious Fate has invited a guest of fairer mien than mine to take my chair. Hers is centre stage tonight, though I shan’t stay to see how she performs.” His eyes were of opposite colour—the right eye a misty green, the left a bloody red. The coachman shivered at his gaze; this was the first time in their evening he had donned an expression that felt… genuine. And it was genuinely dark. “Let us depart anon.”

The coachman quickly hurried the vehicle off through the night, while its passenger relaxed into the velvet cushions. With only the laughing moon as his companion, he spoke to her—a bard playing to a lone audience, “O, what upturned expectations have come at the arrival of this new player?” The bard had seen MC but for a spare moment, and yet, he found himself haunted by her vision. “No devil can beguile men to persuasions more than she with an angel’s form. Or be she one of heaven’s messengers behind the horns and wings of temptation?” The coach jolted as it hit a divot in the path, sending the bard’s scripts scrawling to the coach's floor. Visible on the cover was the distinct signature of William Shakespeare.

“Sebastian, if you would make us a cup of herbal tea? I think anise would be—”

“None for me, it’s okay.” As expected, dinner had ended with none of my questions answered. Le Comte remained true to his promise, however, and invited me to his office for an explanation. Still, my anxieties were left rampant in my head, and I could find no energy inside of me to remain courteous after such an absurd banquet. As Sebastian quietly closed the door to retrieve the tea, Le Comte looked at me with a sympathetic mien. “I just want to know how to get back. My aunt, she must be so worried,” I weakly muttered.

“I presume you wish to exit through the door back to the Louvre? I’m afraid doing so will be difficult. You see, it only opens under very specific conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“The specifics are difficult to explain.” Le Comte rose from his large mahogany chair and stopped in front of a grand hourglass. It was unusually large and had gold furnishings, the top half full of sand. “The door will open once all the sand in this hourglass has fallen. It’s quite precise and I match that timing with the door’s opening myself.” I don’t like how much sand is in there. And how slowly it’s falling if it even is.

“... How long does that hourglass run for?” I croaked out in a panic.

“It takes a month, on average.” A MONTH?

“Pardon me? I must have misheard,” I laughed in incredulity. I could feel my sanity crumbling between my fingers like the sand in that hourglass.

“It typically takes a month for all the sand to fall. Doesn’t it, Sebastian?” I didn’t even notice the butler come in with the tray of tea.

“Yes, M. le Comte. Meaning she will not be able to return for another month.” I squeezed my eyes, hoping this was all some sort of nightmare.

“We’re in Paris, yes?” I asked in trepidation. There has to be another way to leave. As le Comte sipped his tea, he nodded.

“I’ll just leave through the front door. How far are we from the Louvre?” No one said I had to leave through that strange door. Why would I need to use that to return? I can just get back to the hotel and apologize to my aunt for being gone for this long. Le Comte picked up a newspaper from his desk and gently placed it on my lap.

“I’d like you to look at the date.”

I looked at the date and grew cold. This didn’t feel fake—the news articles, the feel. It was genuine.

“This is from this morning’s edition. As you’ve no doubt gathered from the date, we’re in the nineteenth century.”

“There’s no way,” I whispered under my breath.

Le Comte spoke in the same soothing tone, “We’re in France, but not the one you know. You arrived at this mansion by travelling through time.”

I don’t understand. No words came to my mind. There was not a single statement he said that could be serious. And yet, everything I’ve witnessed so far could attest to what he’s been saying.

“You look like you’re struggling to believe it.”

“I’m really quite sorry, you’ve been very kind to me. But there is absolutely no way I’d believe time travel before any number of explanations.”

“It’s true that a newspaper can be easily faked. Perhaps this will convince you?” Le Comte moved towards a window where an old-fashioned brass telescope was pointed outwards. He gently beckoned me over.

“What an excellent idea, M. le Comte. Seeing is believing, they say.” Sebastian said.

“It is our good fortune that, owing to the genius of one of our guests, this telescope provides an excellent view of the city.” I let them guide me to it and peered within. Sure enough, when my vision cleared, the entire view of Paris turned back in time and greeted me. No neon signs. No skyscrapers. No cars. I turned the telescope around, hoping to see any glimpse of a modern city, but only Paris of a hundred years ago was present. Gentlemen in morning coats escorting ladies with bustles. There was no prank elaborate enough to dress an entire city.

“So I’ve really travelled through time?” I gasped in disbelief.

“There’s a phrase you use in Japanese. Do you recall it, Sebastian?”

“Yes, we call it a ‘time slip.’” The name hardly matters, we’re facing the impossible!

“That door connects to both the past and the present. Like me, you used it to travel here, to the past. You may have read or seen stories about time travel, but in my experience, it is neither a simple nor an everyday occurrence. Time travel has very particular rules. And in this case, you cannot return for the next month.”

“When the sand in the hourglass falls, can the door take me back?”

“Yes, when that time comes, either you or I could open the door. Like so, I must also follow the rules. It remains sealed to me for a month as well. If the door hadn’t shut, you could have passed through it exactly the way you came. However, once it’s closed, that passage ceases to exist. And the door requires time before it can open that passageway again.” I could have walked back if the door hadn’t closed. I degraded myself in my head. It was my own stupidity that really got me in this situation.

“Likewise, all the men you’ve met tonight were gathered here by way of that time slip. That is why people from such diverse times and countries are all here, living in my mansion.” So the men I met at dinner are actually legit? Names from history, famous throughout all the world, transcending time in their glory—and they all live together in this mansion. “I can see you still have some doubts. But I assure you, you’ve just met the real van Gogh, the real Mozart, and the real Napoleon.” If time travel really isn’t out of the question, then I suppose it’s not unreasonable to assume that all these men are the real deal. Still, it’s truly unbelievable.

“And who are you, Comte, that you were able to collect some of history’s greatest figures to live here in your mansion?” I looked at him, fully admiring his figure. This ineffable gentleman who said that people CALL him Comte de Saint-Germain.

“I promise I’m not trying to evade your question, but in truth, it’s getting quite late. Please, stay the night. Sebastian will prepare a room. In fact, you’re welcome to stay here for the entire month at no cost. It’s the least I could do to land you in this predicament.”

“For the night perhaps, but I can’t possibly ask you to welcome me for a whole month,” I fumbled over my words at the Comte’s generous offer.

“You do realize you can’t return to your time for another month, don’t you?”

“There’s no need to worry, I can make my own way. I’ve done it all my life.”

Sebastian regarded me with a severe look, “I believe you’ll find that difficult. This is France at the turn of the century. How do you intend to ‘make your way?’”

“I-I’m not quite sure yet, but—” He has a point. I knew nothing about this place. I didn’t even know what currency they currently used. But I can’t possibly stay here. There’s something they’re not telling me, but I can’t reveal my suspicions, it’d be rude. “I really don’t want to impose after you’ve been so generous,” I finished.

“You’re not imposing at all, chèrie.”

“It’s just that you’re offering me so much and asking for nothing in return.” That’s what scares me the most.

“Please, take this as my apology. If you’re truly that concerned about it, Sebastian could use a hand around the house. The other residents try to do as much, as well.”

Now I was faced with two choices. Risk spending a month in a house full of famous, time-travelling figures, who most definitely are hiding a secret. Or make a run for it and face the risks of the nineteenth-century Parisian streets at night. I squeezed my eyes as images of my worried family and friends flashed by. Staying with Le Comte really does seem the safest option right now. I turned towards him with a newfound strength.

“I accept your gracious offer. Thank you, Comte.” I’ll trust them. For now.

“I’m pleased we’ve come to an agreement. I wasn’t able to answer all your questions tonight, but we can continue tomorrow if you’d like. I also have something important to tell you, but that too, can wait for the morning.” I looked into those golden eyes that first sold me at the musée, and for the first time this evening, found contentment.

“I look forward to it, Comte.”

“I will inform the others that you will be staying with us and are to be treated with courtesy. Two of them did not join us tonight, but I expect you’ll have the opportunity to meet them soon.” Even more famous names? Having adapted to my expressions, Le Comte assumed my curiosity. “One is Jean d’Arc.” Joan of Arc? The Maid of Orléans who led the French in the Hundred Years’ War?

“Finally, another woman,” I sighed in relief, “that’s reassuring.”

“I’m afraid our Jean is a man, though I can see how you’d make that mistake.” At my baffled expression, he added, “As to that, truth and history have a curious way of becoming distorted in the telling.”

Whispers of the past unheard by anyone but him, haunted the air like the specks of dust that floated in the light. The whispers, often cruelly mocking his soul, rightfully punished his monstrous existence; but tonight, a new voice urged him toward the window. An eyepatch covered the left half of his face, concealed by his long, dark hair. Jean d’Arc was the subject of the crescent moon’s mockery tonight. He watched the moon’s smile morph into a bow, bent to release its message of death, then to a sharp blade mid-slice.

“La lune se moque de moi ce soir.” His voice became lost within the ghosts’ many whispers, but the moon’s mocking laughter remained. “There’s a curse on this night.”

“Besides Jean, there is one other who did not join us tonight—” Le Comte was cut off by a dull thump, like something heavy falling against the door. “And that’s probably him. I’m sorry to trouble you, MC, but could you get the door?” He smiled almost knowingly while he gracefully held his cup between his lithe fingers.

“Alright.”

I opened the door of Le Comte’s office, expecting a man but encountering none. Warily, I stepped out of the hallway, only to stumble on something heavy. Before I met the floor, I landed on the lap of a large and hunched-over man. While I toiled in humiliation, strong arms tightened around my waist. The sweet scent of cigarillos and amber engulfed me.

The velvety rumbling voice of the man hummed in confusion, “... never seen you here before.” Looking at him now, there was no way he could be comfortable like that. Is he sleeping? Finally, he cracked an eye open. His wolfish eyes were the colour of burnt gold. His lips formed a smirk as he observed my features with the same attention a sculptor might have given his subject. “Thought I’d wait patiently until you were done. Took so long I fell asleep.” A huge, brown, leather jacket lined with fur served to make his figure even larger, but the rest of his clothing was unmatched and messy, albeit in a charming way. The delicious drawl of his voice made me shiver, but his lupine gaze had me guarded. “So, you’re the one he was talking to?” He asked me a question but no words came to mind. He wasn’t letting go. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to. Then, as if waking up from a drowsy stupor, he realized the provocative position we were in. With one hand pushing him up to the ground, and the other supporting my back, we were finally upright. At my wide-eyed expression, he chuckled warmly and murmured an apologetic “scusa” in a deep Italian accent, “Did I surprise you?”

I nodded wordlessly.

He hummed again, “heh. Your words. They match the look on your face. How adorable.” His arm lingered around my waist, and at our close proximity, I caught the pleasant aroma of tobacco lingering on his clothes.

“And here he is. The last of our residents.” Le Comte emerged from his office with a fond sigh.

“Hmm? Are we introducing ourselves now? I’m Leonardo da Vinci.”

“Along with Sebastian and myself, nine of these great historical figures reside in this mansion.” Le Comte finally concluded with the introductions.

Leonardo ran a gloved hand through his brown hair, his voice tinged with that rough, sleepy quality, “I don’t know what happened, but your luck ran out for you to have wound up in a place like this.”

“W-why would you say that?”

“Simply put, Cara Mia, I don’t think you’re going to enjoy it here.”

Chapter IV: Somnum Exterreri

It was not only the residents of the Count’s mansion that relayed the passage of time with the shadow-cleft moon. Ropes of moonlight from the High Gothic windows of the church illuminated the hallways, leaving behind the shadow of a darkly cloaked figure. The innocent humming of an old Romanian lullaby betrayed the blood-eyed creature with the heavy boots traversing the light. The snow-skinned creature gazed at the laughing crescent moon, the light reflected off his softly lucent smile.

His childlike voice contrasted the vile thoughts that swirled behind his blood eyes, “Though it is doomed to the ugliness of utter obliteration, it remains such a beautiful world.” The man, if he could even be called that, crossed under the nave, where two shadows at the end stood obediently waiting. His eyes remained on the cruel moon, but his words were directed to his companions; they were used to his dream-like antics. “Have you seen it? The crescent moon is so beautiful tonight. Let us look at it together. Faust. Charles.”

The imposing and brutal figure of a priest cast his cold gaze on the man. A frosty German voice muttered in distaste, “...Hmph. All the time at your disposal and you waste it in folly, Lord Vlad? We should make the church an almshouse if it’s to host the senile.”

A great contrast to the priest Faust, the syrupy voice of Charles-Henri rose up in defence of their master, “Docteur, le Voïvode wasn’t idle, you know that. He was simply doing his job as a florist.” Charles was luscious candy personified; fluffy locks and innocently dressed with a cherub face and a sinful smile. “I’d love a job like that! So many pretty living flowers that all smell so nice and everyone loves you for what you do.” He turned to his friend, Faust, with a gleaming naïvete, “I want to be loved like that! I want everyone to love me more and more…”

“You do the word ‘love’ no favours, muttering it constantly like a curse. Hungering for it like a depraved beggar. Then again, you do the very concept no favours, you mercurial nagetier.”

Charles playfully interjects in a sing-song tone, “We humans need love. We crave it. It’s one of our most moral desires.”

“Did I hear you say ‘we’ — and ‘human?’”

The creature the two called ‘Lord Vlad’ hunched over in laughter.

“Euer Hochgeboren?” Faust asked.

“...Did something I just said make you laugh?” Charles questioned.

“I simply remember how easy it is to forget my troubles around you two,” Vlad fondly answered, “then I remember how even the good times are destined to come to an end and I become sad.”

“You feel sadness?”

“I do. I feel sadness for the moon in the sky, the flowers in the soil, and the humans who walk between them in ignorance. I want to protect them all so they don’t have to ever feel that way.”

“You love humans more than anything, don’t you, Voïvode?” Charles giggled.

“Of course. I love them more than anything.”

He who felt nothing but love, only love, looked out the window and up to the beloved moon. However, it was not just the moon his depthless blood eyes saw, but something beyond sight. More than human eyes can capture.

“I’m in love with the world. That’s why as the unwilting flower called a vampire, I must bear this garden into eternity.” The vampire’s confession of love was released into the darkness, a promise that his beloved subjects were unaware of, with only the cruel moon to bear witness.

Finally, I’m alone. The fluffy white sheets of the bed that Le Comte provided for me enveloped me in their plush embrace. I sank onto the bed in bliss, gaslighting myself into believing this was simply a hotel in present-day Paris, and not a mansion full of history’s greatest figures. I closed my eyes and the image of my worried aunt flashed in my head. I can picture her panicking at the Parisian police and contacting my mother and father. I can see my younger sibling, eyes brimming with tears at the thought that their sister was in danger. My family… My best friend’s face appeared next, her livid voice demanding where I was and why I’d left her. If only this was all a dream. I was willing to accept that I’d travelled back in time with everything I was shown. But the fact that I’d just had dinner with a bunch of time-travelling artists and scientists and musicians? It was harder to believe. I tried to recount everyone I’d met—if they were all truly who they said they were, I’d be damned not to remember.

Vincent van Gogh, the gentle angel who paints masterpieces.

His brother Theodorus, the enterprising devil that sells them. The brothers were complete opposites, but they seemed incredibly close nonetheless.

The frivolous playboy, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who created the beloved character, Sherlock Holmes.

The indulgent charlatan, Osamu Dazai, who penned “No Longer Human.” They were both attention-grabbing, seemingly overcompensating for a secret they were hiding.

Sir Isaac Newton, who was so shy he couldn’t look me in the eye. He was legendary in name, but his presence seemed so small.

Jean d’Arc, who I haven’t met. I couldn’t even picture what she’d—he’d be like.

“Heh. Your words, they match the look on your face. That’s rare.” The dulcet voice of Leonardo da Vinci made me lose myself so easily, but what did his last words mean?

“...As if the banquet wasn’t bad enough.” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who made the most beautiful music but had the most rotten attitude.

And of course, my saviour, Napoleon Bonaparte. The one who tried so hard to rescue me, and protected me until the very end. But what was he protecting me from?

I couldn’t picture any of them trying to fool me, and honestly, they all seemed so earnest. Besides, what would any of them gain from lying to me? I wasn’t anyone influential or wealthy; there would be no benefit to keeping me here. Having realized all of that, the reality of my situation finally came into perspective. All of this is real.

“I need to stop thinking,” I muttered to myself. Even though it was midday for me, the crescent moon outside my window brought a wave of drowsiness over my body. I slipped off my jacket and kicked off my shoes across the room. My foolish outfit, what was all of this for? I think back to this morning when I was getting ready in front of my vanity in the hotel with my aunt—joking between ourselves. It wasn’t so long ago and yet everything was so different now. My room had an ornate little vanity by the window, with a mirror that had engravings around it and empty drawers underneath. I sat before it and saw my reflection—my makeup was the same as before, but my face looked as if I’d aged ten years from exhaustion. The glint of my amethyst earrings caught my attention; these stupid earrings that got me in this predicament. Le Comte’s golden eyes flashed in my head—those depthless glinting eyes that I could get lost so easily in. Removing them from my ears, I threw them down on the vanity and stalked towards the bed, my bed now, I suppose. Not even a minute in, the heavy embrace of sleep wrapped around me and pressed me down on the bed.

The soft crumple of the thick duvet woke me up. Blinking open my eyes, the bleariness showed me the crescent moon beaming down on my room, stretching the shadows. I thought nothing of it until I heard the creak of the bed frame. What the hell? Every drop of blood in my body turned ice cold. Someone else was in the room with me. And they were on the bed.

“W-who’s there?”

“...”

My eyes cleared and showed the shadowed figure crawling from the foot of my bed. It isn’t safe here at all. I lurched upright, but the figure shoved me back down on the sheets. They crawled on top of me, the heavy figure pushing down my arms away from my body. I was fully trapped.

“Stop!”

“Don’t move.” Their whisper felt like a serpent slithering up my body. Their breath was in my ear. They stopped, and for a few seconds, I wondered if I could force it off of me. Suddenly, sharp teeth sank into my neck.

A pain unlike any other surged from my neck throughout my entire body. And then, the pain quickly subsided and turned into something indescribable. It’s so… hot. My limbs felt like lead; as if they weren’t my own anymore. Heat flickered across my vision like the fading of a desert mirage. Each warm breath that billowed over my neck made the heat even stronger. A strange longing manifested inside of me, the same emotion I felt when I looked into Le Comte and Leonardo’s eyes. It felt intoxicating. I tried to scream, but instead, a groan laden with ecstasy sounded out. I felt the heat in my core, a slow throbbing pulse that edged me further into blind pleasure. I need to snap out of it! I struggled to open my eyes, which had been rolling back in bliss. Dark red rose petals strung around my bed, snapping me out of my stupor. These weren’t rose petals… They came from me. Blood… That’s my blood! The sight sent my head spinning, but before I lost myself in the void, I heard the figure’s voice.

“I want it all. Your body, your heart… and your destiny.” NO!

I scrambled out of bed, furiously grasping at my neck. No blood on my fingers, no puncture wound on my neck. My gaze wildly darted around the room. Empty. No shadowed figure. No one who bit me.

“There’s no one here,” I cried out in relief. That felt too real. My fingers shook as they clutched the sheets. I was shivering. My throat was dry from sleep. My mouth felt balmy, and when I tried to move, everything felt heavy. I need water.

Though it was difficult to navigate, I retraced the steps I took from the room to Le Comte’s office, and eventually to the kitchen. There were electric lamps that illuminated the room. Sebastian was still up, washing the dishes. After that nightmare, the sight of him almost brought me relief. My footsteps caught his attention, and he turned around.

“Is something the matter?” He asked in concern. Perhaps my appearance exemplified how I felt.

“Could I bother you for some water?” Sebastian quickly poured me a glass. He guided me to a small table and sat me down, taking the chair beside me. His inquisitive glance obliged me to share my problem. He listened patiently as I recounted my nightmare, leaving out the more inappropriate aspects. “There was someone in my dream,” I began. I told him how this figure was and how he held me down to bite my neck. “...sort of like a vampire would,” I finished. Having confided in someone else alleviated the heaviness in my head. In fact, the more I told him about the dream, the sillier I felt. “Dreams can feel so real at the moment, but talking about them afterwards shows you how absurd they can be,” I chuckled humourlessly. Sebastian didn’t indulge in my laughter. Instead, he seemed quiet in thought. I grew worried he thought I was prattling on. “Anyway, thank you for listening to my silly dream. I hope you don’t find me childish for dreaming about vampires.”

“I don’t find you crazy, nor do I believe it was just a silly dream,” Sebastian unexpectedly replied. My brows furrowed. “Indeed, it’s a good sign.”

“How is my bad dream a good sign?”

“I believe you saw that dream because you’re here in this mansion.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

“The dream serves as a warning… That you are to give them neither your body nor your heart.” A pang of unease hit me. This must be the foreboding feeling I had earlier. This must be the reason why even the kindest residents seemed to be hiding a terrible secret.

“The residents of this mansion, everyone you’ve met tonight…”

“No,” I whispered under my breath.

“They are exactly what you saw in your dream. They are all vampires.”

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian #ikemen vampire comte x reader #ikemen vampire sebastian x reader #ikevamp comte x reader #ikevamp sebastian x reader #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen vampire leonardo x reader #ikevamp leonardo x reader

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parsley-and-sage · 1 year

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Oh thyme seal rock deity do you have any tips to like... Win and not get tired of bad spawns. I'm at 25/100 and dying inside ❤️

(today one match literally had a S grade and B grade spawn right next to each other in twins' spawn... RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING...)

omg lmao, my condolences 😭 to be totally honest with you, I do not have a brain for strategy and stuff so I am not the person to come to for tips on How To Win. a lot of it, frankly, is luck of the draw!!

as far as not getting tired of it goes......

I think the way I started having more fun with the grind was playing around with other classes I hadn't tried in PVP before to spice things up, and making sure to swap back to my old favorites every once in a while!! kind of an obvious tip when I say it that way lmao, but if you’re playing a class you really like and that you feel like you have a good handle on, it makes a big difference morale-wise! it makes me feel a little less like I’m at the whim of spawns and random bad players at least HSGDHFJ

also, don’t be afraid to set small win goals every seal rock day!! I think there’s a temptation to just grind as much as you can since you need so many goddamn wins to get the coat lol but it’s absolutely a marathon, NOT a sprint… and getting burnt out bc you can’t win anything this week or whatever will only make you feel worse in the long run LOL.

and play with buddies if you can!!! having some friends who are also doing the grind queuing with you is fantastic because you can commiserate when you get bad matches. and ALSO because you can coordinate your limit breaks and do some really sexy shit.

I don't think any of this is particularly groundbreaking stuff lmao but maybe something in here will be helpful and/or reassuring..... either way, hang in there!! your wol is gonna look OUTSTANDING in that coat 💪

#red talks #ask

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theplotdoctor · 2 years

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A piece on remaking the relationships between warlocks and their patrons. Expanded from some notes I made on a different piece for my patrons.

Circe by Frederick Staurt Church

TW: Toxic Relationships

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about warlocks and patrons. How the traditional narrative paints the patron as a highly advanced being just using the warlock for its own ends and discarding it when it’s done. Oftentimes warlock/patron relationships are given a very surface level treatment. When they’re explored to any depth at all the focus is usually on the power imbalance or as a metaphor for employment relations under capitalism, both those are valid but there are other, much deeper options.

The thing I most want to get away from in Warlock/Patron dynamics is the idea that the Patron is unchanging, that if that relationship ends it is because the warlock has outgrown them or moved beyond them as a static being. I can see the temptation in this approach, most patrons are millenia old after all, what haven’t they experienced, what could change them? It also provides for a certain amount of the horror inherent in the warlock class, that feeling of utter insignificance.

For me I want to explore other kinds of narrative that you can tell with that set up. I want to explore stories where the warlock and the patron are both bound together on a journey of mutual transformation and understanding. Where they begin as beings whose goals are aligned and mutually beneficial but as time passes their relationship changes as they change as people. This doesn’t necessarily need to be a bad change, perhaps the story of a warlock and a patron that grow together so much over time that they become indistinguishable from each other. Like a vine that grows so thickly on a tree that you can no longer tell where the tree ends and the vine begins. A beautiful story of transformation and becoming where both are made better for the other. That would be a nice story, obviously, nice stories aren’t my “brand”.

Alternatively, if that relationship does go sour. I don’t want it to be because of some big event where the warlock is made to do something they cannot conscience. I’d rather it be the slow and subtle toxicity that grows over time. Where two people drift so far apart that the relationship is bad for both of them, but leaving isn’t easy because of what they give up. Where the gulfs of understanding grow wider, and the silences of things unspoken get louder. And finally, when it’s become so bad it can’t be ignored anymore, the powder keg is lit, the explosions happen, and they both walk away to find the self without the other.

Ultimately I think the warlock/patron dynamic can be used to explore love, mutual need, connection, heartbreak, meaning, recovery, and personal growth. It can be used to explore all the complexities and range of human relationships and emotions, good and bad. So yeah, I guess what I’m saying is, don’t be afraid to look deeper at how the set up of a class can be used to explore interesting and impactful narratives and include them in your game (with player consent). Thanks for reading and if people want me to delve a little into other classes just let me know.

#dnd5e #dnd #warlock #ttrpgs #relationships

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thebluenoteblog · 3 years

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Chasing After You

Summary: Matthew just can’t let you go, no matter how hard he tries. Unluckily, you have the same problem.

Player: Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: I don’t know... a lot of drinking. A few bad words.

Authors Note: Be gentle, this is the first thing I’ve written in a really long time. It might be (probably is) a dumpster fire.

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Matthew had finally reached rock bottom, he had to admit that, though to no one other than himself. Sitting home alone on a Friday night. No game to play, no practice to keep his mind busy, no friends to hang out with. Just him, a beer, the temptation of something stronger, and nothing on the TV.

It was really pathetic. The guys wouldn't believe it if they saw him right now. Or maybe they would. Maybe pathetic was his new style, it was certainly starting to feel like it after all.

He grabbed the remote off the couch beside him and began to flip channels, eventually settling on a baseball game. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the game to tell you the score, he wasn't sure he even knew what teams were playing.

Just a few minutes into the game that he was sort of watching, there was a knock on his door. He checked his watch, 10:34. You were earlier than usual.

He pushed himself up off the couch and made his way to the front door of his apartment. He knew it was you. You were the only one the front desk let up without calling him. He still didn't know how you had managed that. Did you sweet talk the workers? Probably.

He pulled the door open and there you were, bottle of wine in hand. “I finished one already, but I thought you might be open to having a drink with me.”

There were a thousand alarm bells going off in his head, but he stepped aside and let you into his apartment. You kicked off your shoes in the entryway and followed him into the living room. Neither of you bothered with grabbing glasses, you uncorked the bottle and took a sip before passing it to Matthew.

He knew where this was going, he always did. He couldn't tell you why he never stopped it. Or maybe he could. Maybe he knew and he didn't want to admit that even after everything you had done to hurt him over the years, he was still unbelievably, irrevocably in love with you.

Then I wake up with you on my chest

You got a way of making me forget

Girl, with you the answers always yes

Every time you call

He was warmer than usual. It took him a minute to register you in his arms, head positioned comfortably on his chest. The way you used to sleep almost every night but now reserved for nights that you’d downed your alcohol a little to quickly.

Matthew was afraid to move, he knew that as soon as he stirred you, you’d be out the door just as quickly as you'd walked through it the night before. Just like that you would burst his bubble all over again. Just like you had a hundred times before.

Eventually your eyes fluttered open and he watched as you scanned the room, taking in where you were. “Morning,” he said.

You smiled, “Morning.”

The smile gave him hope that he squashed down just as quickly as it appeared. “Stay for breakfast?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Do I have to cook it?”

“I’ll order in,” He laughed softly. He would never let you cook for him again if that was all it took for you to stay. It wasn't, but he could dream.

You nodded, “I’m going to take a shower. What time do you have practice?”

Matthew glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I’ve got a few hours still.”

You pushed up off his chest and he immediately missed the warmth of your body. He wanted to tell you to come back, just for a little while longer but he knew better. So he let you go, because having you in his shower was better than having you in an uber on the way back to your apartment.

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

You stretched up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Matthew’s lips. It was soft, barely there. “I’ll call you.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

He nodded, “Text me when you get home safe.”

You nodded. “I will.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

You turned away from him and he watched as you disappeared down the hallway toward the elevator. When he couldn't see you anymore, he pushed the door closed and made his way back to the living room.

Here he was again, a fucking idiot with a broken heart and nothing but time to kill.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

Matthew glanced down at his phone, tuning out the guys as he scanned the message, What are you doing tonight?

He typed out a response before anyone could realize who he was talking to. Nothing important.

Your response was almost immediate, I’ll be over in an hour.

Matthew rose from his seat and shoved his phone into his pocket. “Hey guys, I’ll catch you later.”

Johnny sighed, “Don't do it man, you're going to regret it.”

Matthew shook his head, “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

They looked at each other before turning back to him, “Man, this is getting ridiculous. She isn't good for you.”

“How do you know what's good for me?” Matthew asked, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “I think I can protect myself, I'm a big boy.”

Johnny sighed and waved a hand in his general direction, “Whatever, do what you want. Just don't come whining to me when she disappears again.”

Matthew snorted, “I don't plan on it.”

Then he was gone, phone in hand calling an uber.

Listen

Wish I could quit you but it feels too good

If I could turn it off, you know I would

But somethin' 'bout you makes me think we could

Make it after all

There was nothing in the world that made you angrier than your inability to walk away from Matthew. After everything the two of you had put each other through, there was no reason to keep going back. Yet… here you were. Standing outside his apartment after what was essentially a booty call.

You almost wished that Matthew would tell you to fuck off just so you could move on with your life. He wouldn't do that though, you knew Matthew too well and he knew you too well too. That was the problem. You had been with each other on some level for so long that you couldn't remember what it was like to be apart.

You hadn’t knocked yet, you could still leave. Go home and do the responsible thing for once.

“Y/N.”

You turned toward the elevators, and there was Matthew. He looked amazing, t-shirt tight over his chest and shoulders, hair just a little bit in his eyes, the way you loved. There was no chance that you were leaving now. You were in this for the night now, not that this was bad news. You had never intended on leaving without seeing him.

“You’re early.” He said, running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” You said, “I was bored.”

He nodded, “I can fix that.”

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

Why did he always think it would be different? Why was he always so determined to let himself think that there was a chance things would work out this time or next time or the time after that. There was no logical reason to believe that after all this time, anything would change, yet here he was, once again, surprised on some level that you had left him high and dry.

He closed the door, you had long since disappeared into the elevators, and he collapsed onto the couch. There was no way he would be hearing from you again for a while, so he buried his face in the throw pillow and decided to take a long nap.

After all, he had gotten no sleep the night before.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

You were always the one to end things. You had never, in your life, had your heart broken. You never let things get that far. You loved love, but you hated the idea of being hurt. So you kept everyone who tried to love you at a distance. Matthew was no exception, in fact he was the blueprint. There was no way you could ever give him your whole heart, there was no way you could ever trust him with a part of you that you had never given to anyone.

Oh, but you wanted to. More than anything, you wanted to give him every part of you in every way. You knew he loved you, on some level you knew that he would never hurt you, but here you were, three years into a mess of your own creation with no idea how to fix it.

“Y/N, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

You glanced up from your hands, eyes scanning the massive wall clock hanging above your therapists desk. Your appointment would be over in twenty minutes and you had yet to say a word to her. “I don’t know where to start today.”

She nodded, “What is bothering you today? Let's start with that.”

You sighed, “Matthew.”

“What about him?” She asked, tapping her pencil on the notepad that rested on her crossed legs.

You resisted the urge to sigh again. “I just…” You looked down at your hands, “I wish that I could let myself be happy with him.”

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Two firm raps on the door had Matthew freezing as he poured his drink. He set the bottle down and made his way to the living room. He pulled the door open and there you were, beautiful as ever. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, hands in the pocket of your coat. “Hey, Matthew.”

Matthew smiled his eyes wondering over you, memorizing every inch as he stepped out of the way to let you into the apartment. “No wine this time?”

“No, no wine tonight..”

He laughed as he pushed the door closed behind you. “It's okay, I have some.”

You kicked off your shoes by his front door before turning to face him. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could try this sober tonight.”

Matthew stared at you, his expression some strange mix of confusion and hopefulness. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. You wanted to tell him that you were working on your shit, that you were trying to be less scary and damaged, but you couldn’t find the words or the courage to share that with him. Instead, what came out of your mouth was a joke, “What, do you have to be drunk to enjoy my company?”

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “No, not at all.”

He followed you into the living room and took a seat beside you on the couch. Like always he gave you space. This time you scooted closer to him. His eyebrows rose for a split second, then he put an arm around your shoulders and grabbed the remote from the end table. “Want to watch a movie? I hear there’s some new Netflix original thats really good.”

You nodded and sank into his side as he scrolled through the selections.

Maybe this wasn't so scary.

Maybe you could get used to this.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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kobakova · 3 years

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Dragon Age and how it addresses oppression

ok so disclaimer this is not the rewrite of the Elven pantheon (the thing I keep promising I know I’m terrible) however it is an introduction to it and basically the reason why I feel the need to rewrite it in the first place! It’s a bit wordy, but I hope you take the time to read through it, as it took a lot of time and effort and I would super appreciate it! Today I stumbled upon a tik tok that was discussing how DA handles oppression and it motivated me to create a post about how I believe the way DA handles it is problematic at its core. I am not going to link the tik tok, as the creator has asked not to be put on blast, though I am including a word for word transcription of what the creator has said to avoid altering or skewing their message. I want to add that this is not an attack on the creator and what they said, more importantly it is an analysis of how other players perceive the oppression addressed within the game and how that proves that there is a serious problem with how DA handles it.

It is evident to me the message Dragon Age is trying to express is that oppression HAS to happen and that there is a reason to oppress. There are many examples within the game that prove this statement, though I want to focus mainly on how oppression impacts the mages and the Dalish, and how you as the main character can choose to perpetuate that oppression. To begin, here is the transcription of the tik tok below, which addresses oppression through the treatment of the mages.

“When it comes to mages, dragon age gives us a very clear picture that yes, these are people, they have hopes they have dreams they want to do better for themselves, they want to help others, we see this very clearly especially in DA2 where the whole plot revolves around mages rebelling. However, we also see very clearly in DA2 what can happen when a mage is left unchecked. Abominations, blood magic, the ability to force ones will onto somebody is a real threat with mages. Whether they succumbed to blood magic, whether they succumbed to the temptations of demons. These are unique challenges that face mages. And whether or not they should have freedom is true. And the game even gives us an amazing depiction of what could happen through Tevinter mages. What happens if mages are truly released, they have freedom. They might turn out like the Tevinters. Mages can become the ones solely on top oppressing other groups. A situation of the minority suppressing the majority. Whereas all the other lands of Thedas it’s the majority oppressing the minority. We have to grapple with these choices, whether not you kill a blood mage or you let them live. Or whether not you side with the mage rebellion or you side with the templars in DA2. It doesn’t pretend like it’s easy, and it doesn’t pretend to be something that it’s not. It doesn’t pretend to be real life. It gives unique challenges and unique decisions.”

My problem with DA is that you make choices through the role of an oppressor, which is very clear within Dragon Age: Inquisition as your rise to power then gives you the choice to oppress. The transcription above proves that a player has to make their decisions through the lens of an oppressor because you can determine the freedom or oppression of other people, in this case, the mages. Oppression cannot be a tool used for good because it is inherently bad, it only belittles others and is used to gain power. This could be a valuable lesson on how once power is gained so then is the ability to oppress, and how with the responsibility of power you should make choices based on what is best for the people who are oppressed. However, Bioware fails to follow through with this message for the sake of keeping their game morally grey. Instead, Bioware creates reasons and excuses for certain groups to be oppressed, thus making it okay for the player to make a decision that oppresses because either within their history something bad happened or there are certain people within the group that have done bad things. For example, all blood mages are considered evil due to some mages using blood magic in order to oppress and harm. However, we see in the game that not all blood mages are evil, and use blood magic to help. Despite this, all who use blood magic are deemed evil and if used, even if it means they are trying to escape an oppressive system, they will become Tranquil. When addressing Tevinter mages it’s evident that they have gained power, however they have chosen to oppress with this power. Being born with the ability to use magic is having the ability to gain power over another, but it is up to the individual to use that power to oppress or to use it to assist others. The ability to use magic itself is not an oppressive tool, because it has the ability to do good, it is the decisions of the individual that make it oppressive if the person decides to be an oppressor. If Bioware wasn’t so adamant about keeping the game morally grey, then they would’ve had an opportunity to create really interesting and important lessons on power and oppression that would better reflect our political landscape.

Now I want to move onto the Dalish, because I have a serious issue with how Bioware addresses the oppression they face and I believe it is important to mention. As stated above, Bioware chooses to ignore the dismantling of oppression, and instead creates reasons in order to excuse the oppression of a group simply due to the fact that no group is perfect and they all have their issues. This is evident within the Trespasser DLC when discovering the true nature of the elven gods, which I will paste below:

!! Warning: spoilers ahead !!

“Following the initial events of the Exalted Council, the Inquisitor uncovers the reality that the Elven Gods were in fact phenomenally powerful mages who rose in prominence after the end of an unknown war. Solas implies that the Evanuris started out as generals during the war, then respected elders, and finally were revered as gods. They started out as heroes of the famed war eventually becoming corrupt tyrants in order to hoard and maintain their own power. The Evanuris institutionalized a system of slavery using Vallaslin as a brand, with only Fen'Harel (and more subtly, Mythal) challenging their tyranny. Most of the gods were arrogant in their ways, their power and attitudes more akin to the Tevinter Magisters. Eventually, the other Evanuris plotted against Mythal and killed her, prompting Fen'Harel to lead a rebellion against them and later creating the Veil to banish them into the Beyond,”

(https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Elven_pantheon).

From what I’ve seen, little is known about the Elven Pantheon before Dragon Age: Inquisition and the discovery that the elven gods are actually powerful mages is only represented within the Trespasser DLC. Though I have learned later that this was always the plan for the Elven Pantheon, which was to expose the gods for being tyrants who enslaved their own kind. It is clear that Bioware took inspiration from Native tribes to then create the Dalish elves (even within the name, since there is the Salish Kootenai tribe and Bioware literally just switched the first letter) and this is why I have a major issue with how they chose to handle the oppression that the Dalish are impacted by. Throughout the Dragon Age games, we see the torment that the Dalish suffer through from name calling to the complete erasure of the elven race; Bioware even goes as far as to take significant historical events like the Trail of Tears and write them into the elven history. This is why the Trespasser DLC angers me, because after all you learn about the Dalish and what is done to oppress them, it almost seems brushed off after it is exposed that the elven gods were similar to Tevinter mages. This type of message has real world implications, and can impact how people perceive Native people. Within my own experience as a Native person, I’ve had people argue to me that the oppression Native people face has reason because we have also owned slaves which is COMPLETELY untrue. I was shocked to see this exact reason be integrated into the Trespasser DLC, and it worries me because some players will see that and find it perfectly rational to think that because of the Dalish’s history it is then okay that they were oppressed. Throughout history, America and other countries that have oppressed Native and Indigeous people have created excuses and reasons to oppress them (from excuses like we are s*vages that need to be educated, to reasons like the Manifest Destiny). Therefore, it is incredibly harmful that Bioware would use the same type of reasoning not only for the Dalish but for the mages and the Qunari as well. Finding a reason to oppress a group does not create progressive change, it only divides us and keeps the oppressed groups oppressed and keeps the oppressors in power. Bioware needs to change how they approach oppression, and instead actually teach players the tools needed in order to dismantle oppression.

I hope to be able to change how the Dalish are perceived, and show through my rewrite of the elven pantheon and also rewrites of missions involving the Dalish how to dismantle oppression through the choices and involvement of the inquisitor. I thank you all for taking the time to read and if there are any questions please don’t be afraid to ask!

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #bioware critical #bioware #dalish #dalish elves #dragon age mage #blood mages #dragon age critical #ok why does the formatting tools on tumblr not actually work #tumblr do better

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yellowsuitcase · 3 years

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Bliss // Draco Malfoy

Request: i was thinking it would be really cute if the plot is like it’s draco and y/n 1 year anniversary and they’ve never ya know and so they both decide they’re ready before their anniversary rolls around so on their 1 year he makes the day special and all romantic and the room with rose petals and everything and is super loving and careful and sweet with her since it’s their first time

A/N: This sat in my drafts half-finished for so long and I fINALLY got around to finishing it, thank god. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: It’s Y/N and Draco’s one year anniversary and they have big plans.

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Loss of virginity (male & female), swearing, (pretty) soft sex.

Word Count: 2.9k

{Not my gif}

Y/N’s leg was jumping up and down as she sat in her last lesson. She’d been anxious the entire day. It was early March, the second to be exact. This happened to be her and Draco’s one-year anniversary, and the pair had big plans for that night. A few days ago, Draco had asked Y/N if she was ready. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was implying. They had agreed early into their relationship that sex wasn’t a must-have for them. But after a year of being absolutely infatuated with one another, they decided their anniversary would be the perfect day.

Now that the day had come, though, Y/N realized she was terrified. She feared it wouldn’t be good that she wouldn’t be good. However, she also knew she loved Draco and that if he truly loved her too, she had nothing to worry about. Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the bell. Without hesitating, Y/N dashed from Flitwick’s classroom and started making her way towards the library. Draco had explicitly instructed her not to come to the common room until after dinner, so she had quite some time to kill. What better to do to distract her than burying herself in her schoolwork?

Y/N took a seat at a desk in front of the far-end bookshelves. Snape had assigned yet another essay. With a sigh, she pulled out parchment from her school bag as well as her quill and got to work.

-------

Y/N woke with a start. She found herself lying on top of her essay, a bit of drool had dribbled onto it. Hastily, she wiped her mouth and took in her surroundings. She was still in the library. “Fuck,” she muttered. The sun wasn’t in the sky anymore; the only light in the library was from the sparsely placed candlesticks. Y/N sighed and began packing up her things, ready to take a nice shower before bed. However, as she was stuffing her quill back into her bag, she remembered Draco. A steady stream of cuss words flew from her mouth as she jumped up from her seat and ran out of the library. Fuck, I’m gonna be late. Will Draco be upset with me? Fucking hell, how did I even fall asleep? She asked herself as she dashed down the dungeon steps.

Soon enough, however, she arrived at the door to the Slytherin common room. She uttered the password and practically threw herself through the entryway, causing some Slytherins to look at her. Y/N paid them no mind; she made a beeline for the boys' dormitory, not stopping until she reached Draco’s room. It was only then that she was able to take a deep breath and prepare herself for what was to come. She was feeling so many different emotions all at once; excitement, anxiety, eagerness, fear. Yet, despite all that, she placed her hand on the door handle and turned it open.

She was expecting to see Draco sat at his desk, but what she saw instead brought tears to her eyes. The room was dark, only lit by candles. Soft music was playing from a record player, and upon looking at the floor, Y/N saw scattered rose petals that led all the way to Draco. He was standing across from her dressed in a casual yet charming green sweater, his hands behind his back. “Hi,” he said. Y/N, whose hand was over her mouth, shook her head.

“Draco, this is...you didn’t have to do this,” she replied as she began walking towards him. He, too, started walking until both of them met halfway. Y/N looked up at him and saw him smiling at her fondly. Then, he drew his hands from behind his back and presented her with a red rose. She gasped and gently took it from his hand. “Draco, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t have time to grab your present, I fell asleep in the library, and I thought I was gonna be late, so I—”

Draco placed a finger over her rambling mouth, silencing her. “You are all I need. And I don’t care that you’re late, you’re here, and that’s what matters,” he whispered, pulling her close to his chest. Y/N released the tension in her shoulders as Draco began stroking her head, his arms wrapped around her, making her warm. She felt so unbelievably lucky to have a boyfriend like the one cuddled against her. Of course, she’d heard about romantic gestures such as this, and she’d definitely seen them in movies, but never ever did she think someone would do it for her.

Slowly, Y/N felt Draco pull away. She looked at him expectantly and watched as he gulped. He looked nervous. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his voice barely audible. Y/N could see that he was afraid. She nodded and took his hand into hers.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I must admit I am a bit...afraid, I guess.” Y/N was shocked that he had just confessed this to her. Typically, it would take hours of poking and prodding to get Draco to admit he was fearful of anything. Yet, he’d just willingly declared it to her. She planted a soft kiss onto his knuckle.

“I am too. But I trust you,” Y/N assured him. He couldn’t fight the toothy smile that appeared on his face.

“I trust you too,” he replied. Y/N held her breath as Draco leaned in close. She closed her eyes and felt herself melt as he pressed his lips against hers. Her arousal had been growing all day, and despite her nerves, she couldn’t help but moan when he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She felt him smile as his hands found her waist. A shiver ran down her spine as his cold hands slid upwards beneath her school shirt. Y/N kissed him eagerly, but Draco retained his slow pace. His hands caressed her body as they searched for her bra. She gasped into his mouth as his nimble fingers found it and shakily unhooked the clasp. He dragged her bra off her shoulders and down her front, pulling away to toss it elsewhere.

Y/N found herself growing confident; she reached for Draco’s sweater and yanked it upwards, successfully untucking it from his pants. He laughed as she pulled it up and off his body, leaving his chest bare. Giving in to her temptations, she put her hands on his chest, feeling his heated skin.

Draco pulled her against his body and dove his head forward, connecting his lips with Y/N’s neck where he began sucking. She closed her eyes and started rubbing her thighs together, desperate to hurry things up, but Draco wasn’t having it.

“Slow down, darling. We have all the time in the world,” he told her, his voice sweet and comforting. Y/N groaned as he reached behind her and grabbed her ass, squeezing it playfully. He ignored her pleas for him to touch her and instead began undressing her further. Her shirt went first, and Draco immediately felt her breasts, kneading gently.

"For a virgin, you are quite eager, aren't you?" he teased, making Y/N blush.

Y/N loved the feeling of his hands on her, and she found it pretty funny how his eyes gleamed at the sight of her tits. But then his hands traveled downwards, fondling the hem of her skirt. Y/N looked down, waiting for him to pull the fabric off her, except he didn’t. Instead, his finger guided her face upwards. He laughed at her confused expression.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked as he tapped her clothed hip, a smirk on his lips. Y/N nodded, she knew what was coming, and even though she was afraid, she knew Draco was gonna make her feel good. With her permission, her boyfriend slipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and her panties. He kissed her gently as he slowly pulled the fabric down her hips, her thighs, and all the way to the floor. Y/N blushed; she was now acutely aware of her nakedness and couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

It seemed as though Draco noticed this since he hastily reached for his belt, undoing the buckle and shoving his pants down, letting his cock spring free. Y/N bit her lip when she saw how hard he was, how hard she made him. Now that he was naked, Draco reached for her hand. He gripped it firmly as he led her towards the bed. Y/N crawled onto it and laid on her back, immediately crossing her legs. Draco tutted as he, too, got on the bed.

“Don’t hide from me, love. You’re beautiful, and I want to see all of you, please." Y/N could tell his words were genuine, so she slowly spread her legs, exposing her bare pussy to him. “Bloody hell, Y/N. I’m so glad I get to be your first.” Y/N felt the urge to close her legs again, his words sending butterflies to her stomach. But instead, she reached up and pulled his face close to hers. They kissed sweetly, softly. Draco was nearly dizzy from the anxiety running through his veins, but her kiss helped calm his nerves. When she pulled away, he inhaled deeply.

“What?” Y/N asked worriedly. Draco shook his head, dismissing her concern.

“Can I...can I touch you?” he asked, his voice cracking. He had been confident when Y/N first came to his room, but now that they were actually about to do the deed, he felt ten times more afraid.

Y/N felt her heart speed up, but she gave him a nod and watched as he positioned himself between her legs. What she wasn’t prepared for was the shock of pleasure when his fingers stroked her labia. “Holy shit,” she breathed shakily. Draco glanced up at her in panic, ceasing his movements. However, when Y/N bucked her hips against him, he continued stroking. He kept his steady motion until he felt his finger brush up against something. Hesitantly, he placed his fingertip on top of it and gently circled it.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped. She closed her eyes and grabbed Draco’s forearm, holding him still. He stopped his finger and, with his other hand, began stroking Y/N’s thigh.

“What’s wrong? Did it hurt?�� he asked, feeling panic return. But then Y/N shook her head.

“No, that’s my clit. Do it again, please,” she begged, her muscles tense. Draco did as she asked and began rubbing his finger against and around her clit. He watched in amazement as she bucked her hips and began squirming, soft breaths falling from her lips. Draco switched his finger out for his thumb. While still stimulating Y/N, he slowly slipped his pinkie finger inside her.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered.

“You’re so tight,” Draco told her as he began sliding his pinkie in and out, slowly but steadily prepping her. After a few minutes, he gradually added another. A sharp hiss from Y/N, however, stopped him in his tracks. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically.

“It hurts-”

“We can stop; it’s okay,” Draco quickly cut in. But Y/N shook her head adamantly.

“No, I want to do this. The pain has already started to fade just...just go slow, okay?” Draco leaned forward and pressed quick kisses all over her face, not stopping until a smile appeared on her lips.

“I’ll go as slow as you want me to darling, I’ve got you,” he assured her as he started rubbing her again. Y/N nodded and bit her lip as the tingly feeling returned. She couldn’t help but roll her hips, wanting more friction. Draco took this as a hint to add another finger, so he slipped his middle digit inside. He had to take a moment to close his eyes when he saw Y/N’s pussy clench around his fingers. “That feels good, love?” he asked.

“It’s starting to. Keep going,” Y/N replied. He heeded her words and slowly began expanding his fingers within her, stretching her out. Y/N continued rolling her hips and breathing heavily. In and out, in and out. When Draco deemed her properly prepared, he withdrew his fingers, causing Y/N to whine. He laughed lightly as he reached towards his nightstand and reached into the drawer. Y/N’s eyes watched as he pulled out a condom and ripped the paper, but just as he was about to roll it on, she grabbed his wrist.

“Let me,” she whispered. Draco had to hold back a moan as she slipped the condom from his hands and placed it on the head of his dick. He gripped the bed sheets and watched his girlfriend gently slide her hand down his cock, bringing the condom with it. Draco thought he might lose himself just from that, but he quickly closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. When he opened them again, he found Y/N laying on the bed again, legs spread. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she was ready. She replied by making grabby hands towards him.

Excitedly, Draco grabbed her thighs and pulled her body towards him until her pussy touched his dick. Y/N gasped and, before she could control herself, bucked her hips. “Shit, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hold back,” Draco warned. Y/N completely ignored him and proceeded to grind on him, letting her body give in to her urges. Her boyfriend groaned and savored the feeling before pulling away. He then rubbed his fingers against her. “You’re so wet,” he remarked as he used her arousal to lube up his cock. Once he finished, he looked up at Y/N.

“You ready?” he asked, checking in once more just to make sure.

“Yes, please. I want to feel you,” Y/N whined. That was all Draco needed to hear. He aligned the tip of his cock with her entrance and, while taking a deep breath, pushed himself inside, not stopping until all of it was swallowed by her cunt.

“Motherfucker, you’re so big, oh my god,” Y/N cursed, her eyebrows scrunched together as she waited for her body to adjust to his size. Draco gripped her thighs, trying to hold himself back from pulling out and slamming back into her. She felt so good around him. He could feel her walls pulsing against his cock; it was beginning to drive him wild. But then Y/N started wriggling and moaning.

“Move,” she demanded. Draco wasted no time; he pulled his hips back until only his tip was left inside her, then he slowly pushed forwards, groaning as his dick was once again enveloped in her hot pussy. “You feel fucking amazing, Y/N, shit,” he cussed, continuing to fuck into her steadily. Y/N didn’t reply; she felt breathless as he slid in and out of her. And when his hand returned to her clit, she nearly screamed. The room filled with sweet sounds of moans and pants as the couple made love.

“Faster Draco, please,” she begged, reaching for his hand. Draco quickly intertwined his fingers with hers and gripped her tight. He began to pick up his pace, watching as Y/N arched her back and moaned. “I think I’m getting close,” she whimpered. This made Draco go even faster, her words egging him on.

“So tight around me, baby. So fucking good,” Draco babbled, his teeth gritted as he slammed inside her. Y/N lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, allowing him to get a deeper angle into her pussy. She let out little yelps each time his cock hit that spot inside her. She knew her orgasm was approaching. With the way Draco was rubbing her clit and pounding her cunt, there was no way she’d last long.

Draco took notice of Y/N’s desperate moans and clenched fists. “Let go, darling. Cum for me, cum on my cock, baby,” he husked, encouraging her. Y/N shut her eyes and squeezed Draco’s hand as her body jolted, and her orgasm washed over her. The pure blissed-out look on her face sent Draco into a frenzy. He clenched her hand tight and sent a few more sloppy hard thrusts into her before he too reached his high, moaning loudly as he did.

Each of them halted their movements, desperately trying to catch their breaths. Eventually, Draco pulled out and disposed of the condom. Then he flopped down onto the bed beside Y/N, gently pulling her into his arms where he hugged her tight and pressed soft kisses to her nape.

“I love you so much, that was...fucking insane,” he whispered, smiling when he heard her giggle.

“It was way better than I ever could’ve expected. I love you too, Dray. Thank you.”

Y/N turned around in Draco’s embrace and faced him. She reached up and stroked his face, completely enamored by him. Never had she felt so safe, so blissful. There was nobody else she would’ve wanted to lose her virginity to, and she was so glad he had lost his tonight as well. Sure, it was sweaty, awkward, teenage sex. But it was loving and gentle, and most importantly, it was with the love of her life. Sleep soon started to overtake her, and her thumb stopped rubbing Draco’s cheek. But Draco was drifting away too. The couple entered dreamland peacefully, their still sweaty limbs entangled with one another's.

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blueskrugs · 4 years

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Some People Do, Part 2. | Nathan MacKinnon

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

Part 1.

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

length: 21.1k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I come over?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you said.

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

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

You started to look forward to seeing them everyday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nate,” you sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost like home.

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked quietly.

“Feels like Christmas again,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, buddy,” Nate sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nate heaved a sigh and rolled off of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nate stuck his tongue out at you.

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

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

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

“Do you like it?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Nate, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if you want to,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mel,” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fell asleep holding hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You saved all of them to your camera roll.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your scream might have woken a few neighbors.

Nate FaceTimed you from the locker room, and soon your screen was filled with the sweaty, but happy, faces of the boys, all clamoring to say hi to you. Nate eventually fought them off, and it was just him and his broad shoulders on your phone, and you wished you were there to hug him.

You all watched from Gabe’s house as San Jose beat the Flames in 7, and the Conference Finals became a rematch of the 2019 playoffs.

André got injured in Game 1, some lower body thing that had probably been bothering him for weeks, but eventually his leg gave out on the ice. He showed up at your apartment door the way Nate had in the second round.

“Nate said something about comfort cuddles?” was what he said when you pulled open your door and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come in here, you idiot,” you said.

You tried not to notice how he limped through your doorway and into your living room. He flopped gracelessly onto your couch, curls peeking out from underneath his baseball hat.

“Do you want junk food?” you asked as he pouted at you. He nodded, still shooting you sad looks as he clutched a pillow to his chest. You sighed at him, shaking your head fondly, and went to retrieve a tub of cookie dough ice cream from the fridge and a couple spoons from the drawer.

You threw the spoon at Burky, and he caught it, a small smirk on his face now. “You eat ice cream out of the tub often?” he asked.

“How do you think I got through breaking up with Nate?” you replied, peeling off the lid and digging out a chunk of cookie dough with your spoon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see André’s face fall, and he winced; you didn’t think it was because of the injury. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured, reaching across you to get his own spoonful of ice cream. He dropped his head to rest on your shoulder. “He talks about you all the time, y’know. He always used to, but it stopped last season, and we never knew why. Then all of a sudden after Christmas, it started again.” You ate your ice cream thoughtfully. “He’s so much happier now. We could have the worst fucking game ever, but he knows he has you again, so it’s okay.”

You rested your head on top of Burky’s. “I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. But, fuck, it feels good, it feels right, Bura.”

Burky hummed; his spoon scraped the bottom of the cardboard carton. “You’re out of ice cream,” he said. You flicked his nose. “I’m glad you’re back. We missed you,” he added softly.

You knocked his hat off so you could play with his curls. They were grown out, and honestly you would take any excuse to play with them. He melted into you as you carded your fingers through his hair. He looked young sitting there on your couch, and you had to remind yourself that he was older than Nate, that he’d already won a Cup with the Caps.

André came over again to watch Game 2 with you, instead of watching alone from the press box. You sat curled into his chest on the couch, until Gabe scored a goal and he jumped up, knocking you off his lap and onto the floor. You had pouted at him as he helped you up, laughing his ass off, but from then on you just stretched your feet into his lap.

The Avs had won Games 1 and 2, and you could all feel the tension and frustration that San Jose was facing– you had all felt it yourselves just a couple of weeks before. Ashley’s nails dug into your arm as you watched Naz mouthing off to a Sharks player, his old beef with Joe Thornton spilling over, about to drop the gloves, but the refs stepped in– a couple of you booed a little, but Ashley’s grip just tightened– and it was over. Except it wasn’t, because then Naz got hit behind the play, and you were starting to think Ashley was drawing blood, even as Naz got up, albeit a little slowly, a little dazed. It wasn’t until he came back onto the ice for his next shift that she let go, but she did also sigh and say, “I need a stronger drink,” before swallowing the last of her wine in one big gulp.

They split the road games. The team plane landed in Denver in the late afternoon, and Nate came straight to your apartment to pick up Cox. He ended up coming inside and accidentally took a nap with you on the couch. He stayed for dinner, too, and only left reluctantly at the end of the night.

Nate scored a hat trick in Game 5. You flung your hat down onto the ice with the rest of Pepsi Center, screaming with Mel as Gabe and Mikko tackled him to the ice. There was still time left on the clock, but it didn’t matter, because the game was as good as won.

The Colorado Avalanche were going to the Stanley Cup Finals.

Nate swept you up in a giant hug outside the locker room, spinning you around and squeezing you until you couldn’t breathe, but you never wanted to let go.

You reached up to cup his cheek– and that playoff beard that was still going very strong– and beamed at him. “I told you you could do this,” you told him, just see his grin turn shy. “And you owe me a new hat.”

“I will buy you any hat you want,” Nate promised, but then Josty swept past you and jammed a hat on your head. You took it off to look at it: Western Conference Champions. “But I kinda like the way that one looks on you.

Nate asked you to come over the next night to watch the Eastern Conference Finals, Pens against the Flyers. He paced around the house through the entire pregame show, and you and Cox watched him, bemused, from the couch.

“You good over there, babe?” you asked as Nate stood next to you and looked anywhere but the TV.

“What if I don’t want the Pens to win this?” he blurted. You raised an eyebrow at him. “You know I love Sid, but I don’t know if I could handle facing him in the Finals.”

You laughed a little and made him sit down on the couch next to you. “I’m sure Sid will forgive you,” you told him.

He may not have wanted to face off against his best friend and childhood hero in the Cup Finals, but that didn’t stop him from cheering when Sid scored a goal, or cussing out Konecny for a dirty hit. It didn’t matter, though, because no matter how fast or angry the Pens were, the Flyers were faster and angrier. The Pens weren’t about to go down without a fight, but an empty net goal from Giroux with less than a minute left sealed their fate. Nate texted Sid an apology while you watched the teams shake hands on the ice, and you knew he meant it, but you could also see how he relaxed for the first time all night.

Sid showed up in Denver with Nate’s family just before the Cup Finals started.

“Didn’t feel like going home yet,” was the only excuse he offered, but you both knew how much it meant to Nate that he was there.

Nate’s family stayed in a hotel, but Sid moved into the guest bedroom. A bunch of your things had started to migrate from your apartment and into that guest room, so you carried them into Nate’s bedroom. Nate watched with his arms crossed from the doorway, pretending to be stoic, but his cheeks were pink.

You were in the kitchen later, making lunch, when Nate came in and hovered near you. You bumped him out of the way with your hip.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“Do you wanna just stay over here during the Finals?” he mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring on his hoodie. “It’ll be easier, since you’re going to all the games and stuff, to just come over here at the end of the night.”

You looked up at him; he looked back at you from underneath his eyelashes. “Sure,” you replied, going back to making your lunch. You already had a toothbrush at Nate’s, anyway. “I’ll have to go get some clothes later, though.”

Nate mumbled a “Cool,” before kissing the top of your head and leaving.

Sid came in a minute later and raised his eyebrows at you. You just pointed your knife threateningly at him.

You had never seen the Pepsi Center so loud. The noise had been deafening throughout the playoffs, but it had reached a fever pitch for the Cup Finals. Even when it was quiet, it wasn’t silent, a constant buzz of excited voices filling the arena.

You stood with the rest of the WAGs, in your jersey and denim jacket, Nate’s family and Sid by your side, and you caught yourself thinking that this was somewhere you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

They lost Game 1, but Nate still smiled when you met him outside the locker room. He and EJ were both moving gingerly after a weird three-way collision with a Flyers player in the second. EJ still wrapped you in a hug, though, even if he groaned when Sammy plastered himself across his back.

“You’re supposed to be our good luck charm, Y/N, what the fuck?” he teased. You dug your elbow into his bruised ribs in response. “Geez, I forgot how mean you are to all of us,” he said, rubbing his side.

Nate laughed, settled his hands on your hips. You stuck your tongue out at EJ.

“Wanna head home?” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Want me to drive?” you asked. Josty, who was walking past, stopped and raised his eyebrows, but JT dragged him away. Nate just pressed his keys into your hand.

Nate wasn’t quiet on the drive home like you’d expected. He didn’t stop talking from the time the car door closed behind him until you pulled into his driveway. He complained about the Flyers, the refs, his own playing. It had been a while since Nate just let himself complain about hockey to you. It was nice to hear it again.

Nate pulled you close in the dark that night, and you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, wearing one of his T-shirts.

When they won Game 2, you thought the Can was going to explode.

The team plane left the next morning for Philadelphia. All of the wives and girlfriends piled onto a plane of your own and followed them. You took a nap in Nate’s hotel room in a pile with Cale and Burky while Nate watched film.

The Flyers seemed more powerful in front of their own crowd. They hit harder and chirped meaner, and all of their fans in orange yelled for them. Nate left after a slash to the wrist in Game 3, and the Flyers used that to their advantage. He was back the next night, but the Flyers still took both home games.

Nate was tense when you made it home to Denver. You and Sid shared looks behind his back when he came home late from skate, or sat down immediately after dinner to watch game film again. He was still icing his wrist.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sid whispered to you as you both stood in the hallway and looked in on Nate. He had the TV on and his iPad in his lap and gave absolutely no indication that he knew you were watching him.

“I had to do this all last season,” you hissed back. “It’s your turn, Crosby!”

“You’re his girlfriend!”

“You’re his best friend!”

“I can hear you two,” Nate called, his eyes still not leaving the video in front of him. Okay, maybe your whispered argument with Sid wasn’t as quiet as you’d thought it was. “What time is it?”

Sid said, “Late,” at the same time you said, “Bedtime.” You looked at each other and tried not to burst out giggling. Nate sighed, but he turned off the TV and tossed his iPad onto the couch cushions.

“I’ll meet you upstairs, yeah?” he said, kissing your forehead and holding up the now-melted ice pack he’d been using. You must’ve given him a skeptical look, because he chuckled and added, “I promise. And I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

You used Nate’s shoulder for balance as you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. As much as you loved the beard and the playoffs, you couldn’t wait for him to shave; you were getting tired of kissing that.

If the Flyers thought they would have it easy coming back to Denver, that the Avalanche would go down without a fight, they were very much mistaken. In fact, there was an actual fight early in Game 5, between Farabee and Calvert, over who knows what, but it was enough to energize the Avs straight to 6 goals. They took the next game in Philly, too, though the score was a lot closer.

Soon, you were back in Denver, and it was the day before Game 7. Nate was quiet all day, and you and Sid mostly left him to himself. He went to practice, and you went to lunch with Sarah. You came home, and Nate was heading out for a run.

You were taking your laundry out of the dryer and resigning yourself to going to bed alone when Nate came and found you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing himself along your back and burying his face in your neck. You rested your hands on his and leaned back into him

When he spoke, his beard tickled your neck. “I’m sorry I’ve been shitty, I’m just- what if we can’t win this?”

You turned in Nate’s arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You were still holding one of his socks. “No matter what happens tomorrow night, your family will still love you. Your team will still love you. Denver will still love you. I will still love you.” You pressed a kiss to Nate’s temple.

You stood there, in the middle of the laundry room, for several more minutes. When Nate pulled back, his eyes were shining, but neither of you said anything more.

Later that night, you pulled Nate into your chest in bed, letting him be the little spoon. He sighed contentedly and relaxed into you. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

As you were drifting off to sleep, you heard Nate whisper, “I love you, too.”

When Nate left for the game the next afternoon, he didn’t kiss you, but it was a near thing. You weren’t sure what was holding you back anymore. You liked that Nate seemed to be waiting for you to decide.

Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final was the most stressed you’d ever felt. You wanted to live in the moment forever.

Sid sat next to you and let you squeeze his arm when you got nervous. Mel was on your other side, and she smacked you every time Nate or Gabe touched the puck, which was often, as if your eyes weren’t glued to the ice every second. Someone brought you a beer during the first intermission, but it went mostly untouched.

The game was a tame one, or about as tame as a Game 7 in the Stanley Cup Finals could be. Penalties went uncalled, and tempers were flaring. It was tied going into the second, and then again going into the third, even though both teams scored two more goals in the second period. Your hand was beginning to cramp from where you held onto Sid’s forearm, but all he did was take your hand in his after a while; you kept squeezing until you were sure even his fingers were numb.

And then Giroux high-sticked Gabe and made him bleed. There was no looking the other way from that, Giroux was sent to the box with a double minor, and suddenly the Avs were on a power play halfway through the third period. They didn’t need the full four minutes, though. They didn’t even need a full minute before Nate was on a breakaway, and the puck was up above Hart’s shoulder and safely in the net between one breath and the next.

You screamed with the rest of Pepsi Center, but yours were mixed with a few tears, too.

You still didn’t relax, felt like you couldn’t breathe, because it wasn’t over until that final buzzer.

You watched the clock tick down above center ice. Twenty seconds; you were on the edge of your seat. Ten seconds; you were on your feet. Five seconds; you were screaming. Zero seconds; you were hugging Mel and Sid and anyone else you could get your arms around.

You weren’t sure if you were screaming or crying, anymore. Nate looked up to where you were sitting, and you were sure you’d never seen him smile that big before.

The Flyers filed off the ice, and you spared a half second to feel bad, because they had wanted this just as badly, but then you saw Nate and André hugging and yelling in each other’s faces. You thought about everything you’d gone through the last two seasons, and you thought that, just maybe, the Avalanche deserved this.

A hush fell over the arena as Gabe skated over to pick up the Cup, but it exploded again as he lifted it over his head for the first time. When he handed it off to Nate next, and Nate kissed it before lifting it over his head, you were definitely crying, but you also couldn’t stop smiling.

Everyone insisted that you come down to the ice, though a part of you wondered if you still counted, if you deserved to be there, too. Nate was hanging off of EJ when you stepped onto the ice with his parents, but he looked up and saw you. His face split into an even bigger grin than before. Without thinking, really, you launched yourself at Nate, and then you were both tumbling to the ice.

Nate was sweaty and still entirely in all of his pads, but his arms were wrapped around you and that was all that mattered. You thought he was going to kiss you lying there on the ice, but he didn’t, just helped you up and let you latch onto him again.

“I am so fucking proud of you, Nathan MacKinnon,” you yelled in his ear, standing at center ice.

Nate went home to Cole Harbour, and you stayed in Denver. Except this summer, he texted you every day and called you most nights. From his couch with Cox by his side, from the dock under the stars, from Sid’s deck with a couple of beers. Not a day went by where you didn’t talk to Nate.

You missed him, and you loved him, but this summer it was different. You wished you’d told him before he left, but there had been parties, and a parade, and a lot of alcohol, and it had never seemed like the right time. So you’d stayed quiet, resisted the urge to kiss Nate in front of all of Denver, to tell the world that he was yours, that your heart was his.

You missed him, and you loved him, and you had to hold yourself back from ending every phone call with those three words, because he was in another country halfway across the continent, and it wouldn’t feel right to say it unless you were in his arms.

You wondered if he knew, when you fell silent on FaceTime and just watched him talk with a smile on your face. You wondered if he could see the love in your eyes again, if it had ever really gone away.

You wondered if, somehow, you’d missed your chance.

Nate’s day with the Cup came in the beginning of August. He asked if you would come. You told him you couldn’t get off work.

You booked a plane ticket to Halifax.

You made Sid come pick you up from the airport. He didn’t love that he was being forced to keep a secret from Nate, but he gave you a warm hug when he saw you anyway.

“Do you know what you’re gonna say?” he asked after you’d climbed into his truck and were making your way towards Nate’s house.

You laughed. Sid had rolled the windows down, and your hair blew out the window and into the August air. “Nope. I’ve been thinking about this all summer, I flew all the way out here, and I have no clue what I’m going to say to Nate. ‘Surprise? I love you!’ What if he doesn’t even want me here?”

Sid scoffed. You turned to glare at him. “I have had to listen to Nate complain every single day that you’re not here. It got worse after you lied and told him that you weren’t coming for tomorrow. At one point, he even pretended to be offended that you wouldn’t even come for my birthday.” He took his eyes off the road to look at you. “Nate wants you here, Y/N. Hell, I think you’re the only person he wants here.”

You played with your necklace; it was the necklace Nate had given you a lifetime ago. Sid’s gaze followed your fingers. “I just wasn’t sure for so long, Sid. What if I made him wait too long? What if he moved on?”

“I promise you, he hasn’t. I don’t think he ever would.”

Sid pulled up in front of Nate’s house then, put his truck in park, turned to look at you. You didn’t move. The sun was just starting to set over the lake, turning the sky gold and pink.

“Get out of my car, Y/N,” Sid said softly. “He’s probably around back.”

You sighed one last time and unbuckled your seatbelt, closing the car door softly behind you. You made your way quietly around the house, hoping Cox wouldn’t bark at you. You found Nate sitting in an adirondack chair near the water and started to head towards him when you had an idea.

You pulled your phone out and opened Nate’s contact. You didn’t hesitate before pressing the call button. You heard his FaceTime ring once, twice before the call connected and his face filled your phone screen.

“Hey, Y/N! I was just about to call you actually,” Nate said, grinning at you.

You suddenly hoped that you didn’t look like too much of a mess after your five hour flight.

Nate squinted at his phone, at you. “Where are you? The sun shouldn’t be setting in Denver yet.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m, uh, not in Denver,” you said. Nate looked confused; you had started walking towards him again, were nearly right behind him.

You would make fun of him for not realizing you were standing right behind him later.

“Then where-” Nate cut himself off. He jumped up from his chair and spun around, finally saw you standing there. There, in Cole Harbour.

You barely had time to hang up the call before Nate was tackling you to the grass in a hug.

“Oof, Nate, babe, you’re crushing me a little.”

“Don’t care. You’re here!” Nate said back. Then he pushed himself up a little, rested his weight on his hands. “You’re here. What’re you doing here? I thought you said-“

You laughed, and it echoed off the quiet lake. “I decided to surprise you.”

Nate brushed your hair out of your face and rested his hand on your cheek before dipping back down and pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re really here.”

You turned your head to kiss his palm. “Yeah, Nate. I’m here.”

Nate smiled dumbly down at you for a few more minutes. If you didn’t look a mess before, you certainly did now, sprawled out on the ground in sweatpants and a T-shirt, grass in your hair. You raised your own hand to cup Nate’s cheek. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, rested it against your palm.

The sun was still setting, and you could see the sky turning colors over his head. Nate rolled off of you and settled in the grass next to you. You reached over and grabbed his hand, twining your fingers together. Above you, the sky was all kinds of pinks and purples and blues.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said. Nate stiffened next to you. “I asked you to be patient with me. I said I couldn’t jump in headfirst. And you’ve been so good, so sweet. You’ve let me make all the decisions this time around. And you’ve waited on me for so long.”

“I would wait forever,” Nate breathed. You huffed out a laugh.

“Well, here’s the thing.” Nate looked away from the sky for the first time since you started talking and looked over at you. You rolled, pushing yourself up to straddle Nate’s hips. He propped himself up on his elbows, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, looking into Nate’s eyes. He looked apprehensive, but quietly hopeful. “I’m done waiting. I love you, Nate. I’m not sure I ever stopped. I needed you to prove that I could believe in you again. And, God, that’s all you’ve done since Christmas. From Cox, to the FaceTimes, to all of our little dates. Through the playoffs. I spent all summer wishing I’d said something before you left, stopping myself from saying something every time we talked on the phone.”

Nate’s hands had come up to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin underneath your T-shirt. He still was looking at you like everything you were saying was too good to be true.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

You had enough time to nod and laugh before Nate was leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. It was familiar and new and exhilarating all at once. It felt like coming home.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed Nate, or how long you’d been wanting, dreaming, wishing for it again. It didn’t matter anymore, though, because Nate was squeezing your hips and kissing you slowly, deeply. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he never wanted to be doing anything else.

He eventually pulled away for air, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing in the small space between you.

“I love you so much, Y/N. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do that again.” He kissed you again, just a quick peck. “And now I’m never, ever gonna stop.” He started pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, before coming back and kissing your lips again.

The sun had set fully by now, and you shivered. Nate was still radiating heat, and he rubbed his hands over your bare arms.

“Do you wanna go inside?” he asked. You shook your head, tilting your head back to look up at the stars as they appeared. “Okay, well let me go get you a sweatshirt or a blanket or something.” He tapped your thigh, and you climbed off his lap and stretched.

Nate made his way back up to the house, and you wandered out to the end of the dock. The water was warm when you dipped your feet in.

It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before you heard Nate’s footsteps in the grass again. You turned and saw him carrying a familiar sweatshirt from your college.

“Hey, wait that’s mine!” you said.

Nate blushed. “I, uh, found it last summer, and never really gave it back.”

You grinned at Nate as you pulled the sweatshirt over your head. It smelled like him. “I just thought I left it at your house, and you got rid of it or something. But apparently you’ve been wearing it,” you teased.

Nate blushed darker. “I sleep with it, sometimes,” he admitted. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore, but I still like it.”

You laughed. “Aw, you really are going soft, Mack.”

Nate just grabbed your hand and tugged you closer so he could kiss you again.

“I really believed you when you said you weren’t coming for tomorrow, y’know,” Nate said quietly. “I was trying to figure out how I’d fucked up, what I’d done to make you pull away.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and played with his hand in your lap. “I always wanted to be here for your day with the Cup. I need you to know, to understand, how proud of you I am, how proud of you I’ve always been. At first, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to come-” Nate scoffed; you elbowed him. “But then I started figuring out how I could surprise you. Besides, I missed this place.” You waved your hand vaguely towards Nate’s house and the lake. “And you, I guess,” you added.

Nate bumped your head with his shoulder. “How did you get here, anyway?” he asked.

“Sid,” you said simply.

Nate groaned. “I hate him. He told me he couldn’t golf today because he got guilted into spending time with Taylor!”

You both fell silent, just watching the stars and listening to the cicadas and frogs.

“Hey, what did you wish for on that shooting star we saw?” you asked suddenly, your head still resting on Nate’s shoulder.

Nate looked confused for a moment before he softened. “This,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I wanted exactly this, for you to be happy, for us to be together.” You looked up at him, and he kissed you softly again. “Winning the Cup was a nice bonus,” he added, grinning at you.

You shoved at Nate, but it didn’t really do much. “You’re an idiot,” you said, but you were smiling fondly at him, so it kind of ruined the effect.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he responded, pulling you into a sideways hug.

“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

You fell asleep next to Nate, which wasn’t new, but the kiss he gave you before you closed your eyes was.

You spent the next day with Nate, his family, and the Cup. Sid took every opportunity to talk about how good Nate is, how proud he was. You were pretty sure it was mostly just to see how flustered Nate got every single time. How he’d splutter and blush and struggle to change the subject, but someone always brought it back to hockey, because how could you not, when you were standing next to the Stanley Cup? Whenever Nate wasn’t holding the Cup with both hands, his hand was in yours, or on your hip, or at the small of your back. He would never admit it, but you could tell he was absolutely having the time of his life, basking in the glory and the attention. No longer just the second best thing to come out of Cole Harbour, if even for a moment. For the first time, Nate was in the spotlight.

And you were right by his side the whole time, in every picture, in every memory.

That night, after everyone had gone home and the Cup had moved on, you sat next to Nate on the couch with Cox as he went through pictures that had been taken that day. Ten minutes later, your phone lit up with an Instagram notification: @mackinnnon29 tagged you in a post. You looked sideways at Nate, but his phone was down and his eyes were on the TV. You unlocked your phone.

There were two pictures on the post. Both were of you and Nate, the Cup hoisted high over his head, glinting in the sun. In the first you were just gazing up at Nate while he grinned down at you, a loving smile of your own on your face; in the second, you were kissing, your hand on his shoulder.

His caption was simple: I’ve got everything I could ever need right here next to me.

#cait writes things #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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justlikeeddie · 3 years

Text

I always mean to do an end-of-year fic roundup post and then never get round to it, but...... literally what else am I doing rn

merely players RPF, David Tennant/Michael Sheen, 2.9k, E

“You like this?” Michael asks, honestly intrigued. “You've done this before?”

David looks slightly surprised, but he says, “Yes.” And then, after a moment of consideration, “Not with a man.”

(Sorry, but realising I wrote this THIS YEAR - or at least it was this year yesterday - is absolutely insane. The faint memory of writing this feels like decades ago. Lives ago. If you’d explained the concept of “Staged” to me I would have killed you on the spot)

Your Mirror Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale, 28k, E

“What I’m saying is,” said Crowley, carefully, “You. Me. Running around up here by ourselves. Nobody really paying us that much attention, as long as we put in the paperwork.” He glanced briefly at the ceiling, and then at the ground, and then back at Aziraphale. He flickered his tongue over his lips, raised his eyebrows, and said, softly, “I think that we may have some mutual interests.”

Crossing The Line, written with @laurashapiro-noreally Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale, 10.5k, E

“So how do we actually -- make it happen?” Crowley asked. “Funnily enough, you’re the only one of us who’s possessed someone before.”

“Have you never?”

Crowley pulled a face, shook his head. “Nah. So unsubtle.” Aziraphale, despite everything, smiled again, less nervously. “Well, bit of a last resort, isn’t it? It’s practically admitting you’re not up to the job, temptation-wise. Oh, I couldn’t actually convince that human to do anything immoral, but don’t worry, I just puppeted them like a bodysuit instead. Amateur hour, seriously.”

because it’s you that sets the test X-Men, Charles/Erik, 7k, E

Erik says, “I’m not afraid of you, you know.”

Charles frowns at this. “No, of course not. You shouldn’t be. Why would you be?”

Charles, who can sift through a mind as easily as sand, could presumably shatter a person’s reality from the inside, if he tried. Or without trying. Erik doesn’t know. It makes his pulse quicken, when he thinks about it.

“I think I probably should be, actually,” Erik says. “But I’m not.”

form and land X-Men, Charles/Erik, 0.9k, G

Charles picks up his brandy and knocks it back, and looks down at the chessboard. “It's been a while since I've played.”

This is not the man that Erik remembers. Charles would never have evaded a matter so important; hell, Charles was never the one to break eye contact. Charles drank exclusively for pleasure, and not with the brisk, mechanical movement of someone taking their alcohol medicinally.

“I'll go easy on you,” Erik says, and a strange kind of sorrow twists at him. “It might finally be a fair fight.”

The Parting Glass, written with @the-omnishambles Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale, 16.8k, G

“But anyway, what are you doing for lunch?”

Aziraphale blinked. “This is an abbey, Crowley, you don’t do anything for lunch, you just – eat lunch. In silence.”

“Sounds dull, but all right.”

“What? You obviously can’t join.”

Voluntary Stupidity Due South, Fraser/Vecchio, 1.3k, G

But when he does speak, all Fraser says is, “—Ray.” It’s weird, the way he says it. Not the way Fraser usually says his name, not any of the ways Fraser usually says his name. It sounds surprised and a little strangled, but sort of soft, too. Almost kind.

Ray kind of hates it, actually. Hates that Fraser can look him in the eye, right after Ray went berserk and kissed him in the middle of a bank heist death trap, and then sound like that.

North West, written with @the-omnishambles Due South, Fraser & Vecchio, 11k, G

Of course, Ray reflects - merging seamlessly onto an underpopulated freeway - he mainly suggested this plan out of guilt. He’d been casting around for things that might help, back when Fraser was convalescing and miserable and Ray would have done anything to make amends. Then there seemed no way to back down. You can’t break a deathbed promise, and hilariously (is it hilarious? Ray isn’t sure whether he’s far enough away from all this to have a sense of humour yet), Fraser’s never suggested taking a bullet might be enough, and Ray no longer has amends to make.

Maybe Fraser just plain wants them to go. Maybe he thinks it’ll be good for them, or maybe he actually does need the help. Who the fuck knows what the Mountie is thinking, ever? The point is, there’s no turning back now.

Deduction Due South, Fraser/Kowalski, 3.9k, E

Ray has rather long fingers, his nails cut short. His thumb is bent into an obtuse angle against the glass. His silver bracelet hangs as usual on his wrist, producing the faintest click-swishing sound whenever he moves his arm. And the nearness of him brings a raft of familiar smells: coffee, a sugary sweetness, stale smoke, motor oil.

“Fraser?” says Ray, from above him.

Fraser starts, and takes the glass from his hand. “Thank you.”

“Uh— ” says Ray, and then clears his throat. “Did you just smell me?”

Trash Hard Core Logo, Joe Dick/Billy Tallent, 3.7k, M

“I thought you were gonna walk right off stage. But then you looked at me and you didn’t look angry, you looked— like— I’d never seen you look like that, man, I don’t know. It was like you’d ascended.”

Billy thinks it’s funny, dumb, when Joe says things like that— or else he thinks he’s showing off. He curls his mouth into that little smile that manages to be indulgent and mocking all at once. Usually catches the eye of whoever Joe’s trying to tell the story to, maybe a quirk of the eyebrow. He’s always trying to get other people to gang up on Joe with him, in tiny, pointless ways. Like he’s trying to prove to Joe that he can make friends with other people, and that he can do it better than Joe can.

Also, big shout-out to what felt like hundreds of other fandoms on this hell journey of a year that I apparently became re-invested in enough to read fic, even if not to write it, which I think were uhhhh DOCTOR WHO. HANNIBAL. JONATHAN STRANGE. 2010-ERA CHARLIE BROOKER RPF (DON’T @ ME). SLINGS & ARROWS. TORCHWOOD (DON’T FUCKING @ ME). RAFFLES. Extra special shout-out to whatever the fuck my relationship is with the Supernatural fandom now. okay peace done I’m out

#good omens rpf #good omens #xmfc #cherik #due south #hard core logo #xmens #fic #my fic

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.20}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

It was a week before Christmas break, on a snowy Friday evening, when Robin and Snape found themselves sitting at one of the tables in the lab yet again, waiting patiently while their newest project simmered quietly in a small cauldron in front of them. Eventually the draught would turn in colour, going from a dull yellowish brown to a brilliant ruby red, but until then there was nothing to do but chat while they had their usual evening coffee.

After the firewhisky endeavour in late October, most of November and December had gone by remarkably unspectacularly, and while they had spent some more evenings in Snape's room throughout that time, mainly because of the music that had stayed in his room in form of Robin's old record player, Robin hadn't ever dared to even consider staying over again. Not that she wouldn't have wanted to –gods, she would give about anything even just to sleep in that cloud of a bed again– but she was rather certain that she couldn't spend another night in his space without doing something stupid. Especially when he was starting to become less opposed to this innocent physical closeness, to her touch and to touching her in return, she was better off sparing herself the temptation of crossing lines she shouldn't even come close to. They had already gotten so far, and she couldn't jeopardize that for a ridiculous spurt of nightly braveness. So it was their normal routine of staying up until ungodly hours to work and talk and simply enjoy each other's company that brightened her days no matter what.

"Your hair smells like pineapple again." Snape remarked in a dramatic sigh, which effectively drew Robin out of her head again.

"Yeah, well, I forgot my shampoo and had to steal from Cas once more." She shrugged with a humoured huff, then took a long sip of her cooled down coffee and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly detest pineapple that much?"

"Yes. They smell too sweet for how acidic they are."

"But I know for a fact that you like lemons, and those are even more acidic."

"I do like lemons, yes."

"Funny."

"For someone who cannot tell lemons and limes apart it certainly must be, yes."

Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but the smile on her lips gave away her true sentiments. He honestly would never let her live that down… and it had been years! That man had a memory better than a photo album or an audio recorder, and she found herself stuck between pride, envy and admiration. The middle would do.

"Next time I'll use Jorien's coconut body wash too, so that you get stuck with me smelling like a freaking piña colada, if you'd prefer that." She teased him right back with a small smirk, but then couldn't help laughing at his horrified expression. "Don't worry, I for my part have no intention of smelling like a fruity cocktail. Would be the cherry on top of everything, eh?"

"Funny." Now it was Snape who rolled his eyes, using his flattest and most indifferent tone, and Robin had to laugh even more. Especially when he finally couldn't help the smirk on his lips any longer either.

"Speaking of drinks, isn't-..." Robin was cut off by a loud knock, which made both her and Snape frown at each other simultaneously, then at the door. It was past one o'clock in the morning; who the hell would dare bothering them at this time?! With every intention to find an answer to that question, it was Robin who jumped off her chair and skipped to the door this time around, with Snape just a few steps behind her.

When she opened up, she was greeted by the kind and absolutely unsurprised face of none other than Professor McGonagall. Robin's eyebrows rose for a second, but she didn't forget her manners over her surprise. "Good evening, Professor. Is everything alright?"

"Good evening indeed, Miss Mitchell. Severus…" McGonagall gave both of them a nod and a smile, looking from one to the other as Snape came to stand so close behind Robin that she could feel his warmth on her back, as well as the gentle brush of his robes whenever he took a breath. It took quite a bit of effort on her part to keep focusing on McGonagall as she spoke on, clearly addressing Snape now. "I'm afraid I have news you won't like to hear."

"What happened?" Snape's voice was the perfect disdainful indifference once more, and Robin had no doubt that his expression was made to match.

"Pomona received an urgent owl an hour ago and henceforth has personal matters to attend to all weekend, which means she will not be able to see to the mandatory dancing instructions of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students tomorrow morning, and seeing as Filius isn't an option, by his own choice may I add, you're going to have to attend to half of the students, Severus." McGonagall stated in one long breath, with a pointed expression that left no room for arguments. Behind Robin's back, Snape held his breath for a second, which she only could tell by the lacking brush of fabric against her jumper.

"Certainly." He finally drawled, dutiful as much as disdainful. It wasn't hard to guess his thoughts on the matter, especially after he had successfully avoided giving this dance class for the past years. "I shall instruct the Slytherins myself, and whichever half of Pomona's students you wish to… impose on me."

"The Ravenclaws should be a better fit for you, I believe." The transfiguration professor was quick to reply. "Would you mind having the time between breakfast and lunch, in the great hall? I myself would prefer the timeframe from lunch until dinner."

"I am not partial to any time."

"It's settled then. You'll teach the Slytherins and Ravenclaws after breakfast." McGonagall smiled almost mischievously, or at least in a decent amount of amusement. "I believe a standard waltz shouldn't be a problem to you, after demonstrating it quite so nicely with Miss Mitchell at last year's ball."

Snape didn't reply, but Robin could feel him glaring at McGonagall over her shoulder. Honestly, she couldn't even blame him for being annoyed by the turn of events. This was probably the last thing he had expected to be doing on this Saturday, especially since they had previously made different plans. Looks like those would have to wait yet again.

"Anyway, I don't want to hold you two up any longer than necessary." McGonagall finally spoke on when nobody replied to her previous statement. "What is it you are doing at this time of night anyway?"

"Working." Both Robin and Snape replied in unison, in the same evading neutrality, and the woman in front of them couldn't help smiling in sincere amusement at their mannerisms.

"I see." She said, and tried to glance past Snape into the lab, only to give up after a half-hearted attempt. "I was merely being curious; I unfortunately have to conduct most of my experiments alone these days."

"If you find yourself looking for an assistant, I can only recommend you to ask Jorien Blakeley. She would be delighted, and I know for a fact that she has a remarkably strong interest in transfiguration." Robin couldn't help the blurb of words from escaping, but she also didn't quite regret it. "And as far as I'm aware, she has been getting fairly high grades as well."

McGonagall looked surprised at the suggestion, then she frowned to herself for a moment and finally smiled at Robin again as she went to reply. "Miss Blakeley really does have a talent for the subject, however I wasn't aware that she would take interest in furthering her knowledge beyond the classroom topics. Nor that she would enjoy having to spend more time with me than necessary."

"Believe me, she does. Very much so even. But she admires you too much to bother you with questions she believes to be too insignificant. Actually, she believes herself to be too insignificant. I try to tutor her as much as possible, but I am by far not the most proficient in the subject, nor can I teach her as much as she would want to learn."

"I certainly will consider speaking to the girl about assisting me then. Thank you, Miss Mitchell." McGonagall said in prevailing mild amusement, but definitely also appreciation, and then gave both Snape and Robin another nod. "Anyway, goodnight for now. I will see you both tomorrow."

As the professor left, Robin closed the door once again and let out a long breath while she followed Snape back to their stools. Perhaps McGonagall would ask Jorien for her assistance indeed, and that might just take some work off Robin's hands if the girl would get her answers from someone more adept in the subject.

"Funny." Snape said after a moment, as he gave Robin a teasing smirk. "You never admired me enough to spare me from your questions."

Robin gave him an immediate glare, but then also a smirk in return. "No, I admired you enough to know that you were the only one who could keep up with my questions in the first place."

"You've always been by far brighter than anyone around you." His smirk widened, and Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly to act over the warmth spreading in her chest and on her cheeks. "Logically, nobody but me could handle you even if you came with instructions."

"Hey!" She couldn't help laughing again at last, and nudged him in the shoulder before she slumped down in her seat. "I don't even know if that last part was supposed to be a compliment or an insult."

"That would be for you to decide."

Indeed, Robin decided on taking it as a compliment. If he thought that his intellect had somewhat found a match in her, she honestly could only feel flattered, brilliant as he was. Besides, he had long stopped insulting her for anything more than a tease in the first place… so a compliment it was. And honestly, Robin absolutely didn't mind that he was the only one who was able to handle her, and she even wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment. But the thought of handling things brought her on to a different topic of thought in an instant, and she frowned to herself for a second.

"I guess our plans for tomorrow are cancelled now, aren't they?" She stated more than asked, and the amusement faded off her face as it vanished from his as well. "I mean, we'll never make it all the way around the black lake between lunch and dinner, especially not in this snow. It'll be too dark to see our own feet even before we have walked half the distance if we start in the afternoon."

"Unfortunately." He sighed, then his face set in a scowl. "Teaching fifty fourth years how to dance certainly is the last thing I expected to do tomorrow."

For a second Robin had to snort at the confirmation of her previous assumption, in almost the same words even, but it was a bitter amusement and it confused Snape more than it cheered either of them up, so her face set back into a grim expression before long . "Too bad Sprout had urgent matters to attend to right on this weekend, out of an entire year to choose from."

"I was starting to believe I had once and for all gotten out of giving dancing lessons… The previous years I wasn't even asked to."

"I luckily only had to suffer through it once, during fifth year. Remember that? I danced with this redhead and everyone made a big deal out of it."

"How could I forget?" Snape huffed, rolling his eyes. "Minerva kept going on and on afterwards about how neat it would be to… encourage that non-existent connection she however believed to see between you and the Weasley boy."

Robin was the one rolling her eyes now, with an indignant scoff to accompany the expression. "Honestly, even back then I was far closer to you than to that boy, or to anyone at all really. You knew that, I even told you about it!"

"That you did." He confirmed, then lost some of the annoyance as he let out a quiet sigh. "I believe it isn't of relevance anymore, Minerva has long since come to her senses as has everyone else who attempted to conspire on the issue. But other than that, I would still like to hear more about your dancing lesson."

"Ah, yes…" Robin said, as the realization hit her that he probably hadn't received any such lessons during his time as a student nor gotten to witness the ones given in the previous years. "Well, uh, it wasn't spectacular actually. In the beginning there was a quick explanation about the whys and hows of dancing, and then McGonagall forced some seventh year boy to demonstrate the dance with her. After that we just had to pick a partner and practiced for like… two hours perhaps. A bit longer maybe. That's it."

"I assume Minerva corrected your errors while you practiced?"

"I'm not too bad at dancing, so she didn't concern herself much with me, but others' mistakes she did correct relentlessly from what I could tell."

"Good. I can do that."

"I think it'll actually be easier for you than it was for her." Robin shrugged at her own thought. "You shouldn't have the problem of people slacking off and fooling around. They're far too scared of you to cause any mayhem or refuse your orders. Easy."

The corner of his lips quirked up for a second, but then set back into a grim line. "I wouldn't call forcing some dunderhead to demonstrate the dance with me particularly 'easy'. Students are far less repelled by Minerva, which makes the entire endeavour less of a sickening prospect for her in return."

Either it was his self-deprecating words or the thought of him dancing with someone else that made Robin feel sour in an instant, but either way she had to swallow the lump in her throat down quite forcefully before she replied. "I… You… uh, I understand how dreadful it must seem to you to dance with someone. But I'm sure whoever you choose will be less repelled by it than you are, if that helps anything."

"I have no intention to force anyone to dance with me at all."

"Yes, no, but… I mean, since it's the fourth years we're speaking of anyway, I'm sure you could ask Jorien. She's quite indifferent to most people; she wouldn't care if she was dancing with you or with someone else. And if I ask her to do it, she will. Especially after I just advertised her to McGonagall."

"Actually, I was going to ask you." He said, surprisingly straightforward and direct in his approach of the topic. "For the favour of helping me with the entire lesson. It would be to the best advantage of everyone if the demonstration was nothing short of perfect, and an additional pair of eyes will certainly be beneficial for the students' practice afterwards as well."

A weight lifted off Robin's heart in an instant, and she had to smile at his through and through logical and desperately appropriate reasons for asking her assistance. "Of course I will help you. Anytime, with anything. You know that. And having someone to explain the female part will probably be good too."

"Likely. To be honest however, while those are all perfectly good reasons to ask you to do this with me, they aren't truly my measure. I rather know your presence is going to make the entire ordeal a lot more bearable, as it always does. And in the end, I would simply hate to dance with anyone but you, no matter the circumstances." He added after a moment, again in a shocking easy sincerity that almost had Robin's heart leaping out of her chest.

Her smile broadened until it was allconsuming in its radiance, like all those times when she failed to suppress the stupid hope that lived in every shadow of her mind these days. No. He would hate dancing with anyone else because Robin was the only person he found bearable to touch. Not because of any other reason. Who wouldn't choose a friend over a stranger? Her smile fell, her heart sank, and she couldn't help the hurt from showing in her eyes at least.

"You really should stop that, you know…" She finally said in a sad chuckle that was heartbreaking even to her own ears.

"What?" Snape asked in return, and his expression fell in accordance with Robin's. He looked almost taken aback, confused at least, about whatever he had obviously done wrong this time and Robin felt even worse for speaking up at all. She didn't dare to answer. So he asked again. "Stop what?"

"Forcing this ridiculous hope onto me." She said before she knew, with a sad smile and a gaze that dug souldeep into his. "Every time you say things like that, it forces a little more hope to seep through the cracks in my walls, and I need you to stop. I don't want to hope, I can't bear it… Hope is dangerous. It's torturing me."

Her words seemed to confuse him even more, and while he frowned deeply at her, the subtle hurt in his own eyes was undeniable. He wanted to understand what he had done wrong… she knew. But he hadn't done anything wrong at all, nothing but being who he was. And being who he was, he wouldn't let go that easily. "Hope for what, Robin? You have to be a bit more precise if I am to understand. And I would very much like to."

The sight, the thought almost broke Robin entirely, while his blissful oblivion almost made her laugh in return. Oh, how stupid could she be? For the first time he had done absolutely everything right by being completely honest, by trying to talk about an issue, and here she was, doing absolutely everything wrong in return. It wasn't his fault that she loved him too much, and it wasn't his fault that she couldn't handle her own stupid emotions.

"Nevermind." She sighed finally, tearing her eyes away from his to look down at her empty coffee mug on the table. "I'm just being stupid because my brain is too tired to function. You know me… I talk nonsense sometimes when I'm exhausted. If it wasn't for the stupid potion that just refuses to change colour, I'd be going straight to bed."

"Actually, it changed colour twenty minutes ago and I put a stasis on it to continue the work tomorrow afternoon."

Robin groaned in frustration and closed her eyes before hiding her face in her hands. "See! I didn't even notice! Great friend you have in me… and an even worse colleague. I'm such a failure…"

For a moment it was silent in the lab, and while Robin just hoped that she hadn't entirely screwed things up, she could practically hear his mind working at light speed. Gods, he had only said he quite liked to dance with her… and she'd gone on to make a scene of it. Great. So much for being better.

"To tell you the truth, I haven't the remotest idea what to do in a moment like this. What to say or do that would make things better for you and not worse. But I assume… perhaps this is the kind of situation where an embrace might prove helpful?" He finally spoke up, reluctantly and more than a little uncertain about his assessment of the situation, but without a hint of discomfort or doubt about the underlying offer he was making. Robin's hands dropped from her face in an instant, and before she knew, her eyes were filling with tears of adoration and exhaustion and overwhelm. His brows furrowed in return, his face a careful layer of neutrality.

Robin wanted to reply, wanted to say how damn right he was in that assumption, wanted to assure him that she wasn't being so bloody emotional because of anything he had done wrong, but because of all the things he was doing right. But all she could do was to nod, and then push herself off her stool to cross the space between them. Snape for his part stayed perched on the edge of his seat when Robin wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled her flush against him when his arms circled her waist in return. They were almost the same height like this, or at least closer to it, which allowed Robin to hide her face in the soft fabric in the crook of his neck when her tears finally started spilling over. She didn't even know why exactly she was being so bloody stupid right now, so ridiculous and pathetic and weird… Her almost-slip of emotions hadn't backlashed. Her secret was still safe. Their experimental potion was intact and waiting to be continued. She would get to dance with him tomorrow, and help him with a class. She even was wrapped up in the most comforting hug ever at the moment, if that alone wasn't enough reason to be happy! Everything was bloody perfect. And yet, when he ever so subtly started playing with the tips of her hair that cascaded down her back, a strangled sob escaped her lips and he stopped in an instant.

"No, please…" She sniffed before she could think better of it. His hands in her hair had felt so nice… a hint of a sign that he enjoyed their closeness as well. "Please keep doing that."

It took a few seconds before he complied, but once he did, Robin sighed under her breath, and she was almost sure that she felt him smile against her shoulder in return. True or not, the idea sufficed to send a shiver down her spine, and finally she found herself able to relax. The tension left her body like a burn washed away by the sweet relief of a cooling water, and while she sunk deeper into the warm comfort of another perfect embrace, her spiralling emotions became subject to her will once more. It really was alright… they were alright.

"I'm really looking forward to dancing with you tomorrow." Robin finally said, in a calm tone and with a calm mind once again. He deserved to know that much at least, and it was a perfectly appropriate thing to say. "The circumstances… nah, but as long as we're suffering through it together, it will be alright."

"I take it then that an embrace really does make you feel better. I shall have to remember." He replied in amusement, and while that did make Robin smile, she also wasn't fooled over the astonishment he tried to hide behind it. Indeed, it was rather sad to think that he wouldn't know how comforting the embrace of a beloved person could be. Or perhaps he simply doubted that his embrace would have this effect on her. Either way, Robin made a mental note to make him understand and believe both in the nearer future.

"You shall indeed, I do feel a lot better. Always, with you." She sighed softly and closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her now that she could focus on it at last. "Still am beyond tired though."

"Perhaps you should go to bed. Tomorrow certainly will be exhausting enough with all the dunderheads stumbling through the room and tripping over their own two feet."

"We should totally play bullshit bingo with the idiotic things they might say or do…" Robin chuckled to herself and absentmindedly traced the seams of his robes she could reach with her fingertips. "That might just make the entire ordeal more amusing. For us, at least."

"How… temptingly unprofessional." He drawled in return, and the deep tone of his voice being so delightfully juxtaposed by his words made Robin snicker even more. "We most definitely should play indeed."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you." She yawned, and somehow it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her legs from giving out beneath her, now that her entire body was relaxing and being held up by his. "And I would have to say that I love it."

Her words made Snape chuckle, which was a sound so exquisite in its low rumbling depths that it sent new waves of shivers all over Robin's body, which left goosebumps in their wake in return. Bloody hell, he most definitely could feel the effects he had on her now… But at least he was kind or indifferent enough not to comment on it. She could always blame it on being cold or tired or something of that sort, should the necessity arise.

"You certainly have the strongest influence on me, and I daresay you are the only one I allow myself to be affected by in the first place."

"Well, if I'm the only one, being the strongest is hardly an accomplishment. And I would be the strongest and the weakest at the same time, you know…"

"Will you just take a compliment when I accidentally give you one for once, you insufferable little creature?"

"I can try." Robin grinned at his half humoured and half feignedly annoyed tone. "Even though I technically wouldn't call 'insufferable little creature' a compliment."

"But I would." Snape returned, and his smirk didn't need to be seen to make its way straight to Robin's heart, making it soar. "You are indeed quite tiny, as well as considerably different from any average humanness, and you most definitely are insufferable."

"Thanks…" She snorted, then stifled another yawn and wondered for a moment what would happen if she just fell asleep right in this spot; she was hardly supporting her own weight anymore anyway. Chances were high he'd wake her right back up or she'd cause him trouble if he tried not to, which wouldn't be much of a gain in either direction, and thus she banned the idea into the back of her mind.

"It seems like that was quite a weak attempt at humour on my end, going by your response. My apologies."

"No, I'm sorry, it really was funny! I'm just too tired to appreciate it properly."

"I still stand by my suggestion that you should go to bed. Teaching is more exhausting than one would assume, especially if it involves watching fifty students at once."

"You're right… I know."

That seemed to be the cue for both of them to ever-reluctantly let go of each other in the same silent agreement as always, and for Robin to sigh softly in disappointment at the loss of his delectable warmth and comfort in return. Yet, she didn't let any of it seep into her expression as she went to pick up her backpack from the other table and only turned back to Snape when she halted at the door before letting herself out.

"I really am looking forward to tomorrow." She said once again even though she'd told him already, but she couldn't help it. The excitement was there and it was strong, and he deserved to know. "I miss dancing with you."

He gave her one of his rare smiles in return, a genuine one that wasn't teasing or humoured but simply content and perhaps just a little excited as well. "This time I would like to ask you to dance though, if you will let me."

"Well, then you simply will have to be faster than me, won't you?" Robin smirked at him, wiggling her eyebrows for a second, and then had to laugh at her own ridiculous silliness. It really was too late for her own good. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Until tomorrow." He replied, and when Robin stepped out into the hallway with a huge smile lingering on her face, she couldn't help but think that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing that their plans for tomorrow had been changed. Maybe she would have to thank Sprout for being absent at some point.

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