kaia

masterlist 22 ✩ she/they ✩ i write sometimes mostly f1 & hockey

[kaiawrites]

MASTERLIST

FORMULA ONE

HOCKEY

BAD OMENS

MOTIONLESS IN WHITE

THE MARAUDERS

important note: please know that when i write about celebrities i am writing about characters inspired by the public personas that these celelbrities present! i am in no way trying to realistically represent these people as i do not know them personally and also do not wish to be invasive of their personal lives!

[bnwrittes]

More than just skating

SUMMARY: You never intended to sign six-year-old Oliver up for the Canadiens’ learn-to-skate program. Hockey was expensive, your budget was already stretched thin, and you couldn’t afford to let him fall in love with a sport you might never be able to give him. But Oliver’s excitement—and one particularly patient Canadiens player—slowly convince you that perhaps neither hockey nor love has to be faced alone.

WC: 6.1k

WARNINGS: Single motherhood, financial struggles, young pregnancy mentioned, absent father, minor insecurity, soft Cole, fluff

Requested: Cole Caufield + Single Mom AU

an: this is my first time writing for Cole and things got carried away! hope y'all like it

You had learned to say no without making it sound like one.

It was a skill you had perfected during the six years you had spent raising Oliver “No, sweetheart, we don’t need that cereal. The one at home tastes exactly the same.”

“No, we can’t get the dinosaur backpack today, but maybe we can put it on your birthday list.”

“No, honey, Mommy isn’t hungry. You can have the last piece.” The words always came with a smile, a kiss to his hair, and some kind of promise that distracted him from everything you couldn’t give him.

You had gotten pregnant at seventeen.

While your classmates worried about university applications, graduation dresses, and who they would take to prom, you had been sitting in a doctor’s office with your mother beside you, staring at the tiny flicker on a screen that would become your entire world.

Oliver’s father had disappeared before your stomach had even begun to show.

At first, he had promised he would be there. Then his replies became shorter. His visits became less frequent. Eventually, his number stopped working altogether.

You had stopped expecting him to return years ago, it had been you and Oliver from the beginning.

You worked as many hours as you could, accepted help only when absolutely necessary, and learned how to stretch every dollar until it felt almost impossible. Oliver never went without anything important. He had warm clothes, food in his stomach, a safe apartment, and more love than he knew what to do with.

But hobbies were different.

Hobbies cost money and hockey, as far as you knew, cost more than almost anything else.

That was why you immediately shook your head when Oliver came running out of school one afternoon with a bright red flyer clutched between his mitten-covered hands “Mommy!”

He nearly collided with your legs, his backpack bouncing against his small shoulders “Careful.” You caught him before he could slip on the icy pavement. “What happened? Why are you running?”

“Look!” He shoved the paper toward you so quickly that it crumpled between his fingers.

Across the top was the Montreal Canadiens logo. Underneath it, in large letters, was an announcement for a children’s skating program being hosted at the team’s practice facility.

Several Canadiens players would be attending to teach local children the basics of skating.

Oliver stared up at you with wide, hopeful eyes “Can I go?”

Your stomach tightened, you read the flyer again, already searching for the cost before you reached the second paragraph “It says it’s free,” Oliver added eagerly, pointing to the word as though he had already anticipated your concern. “Madame Girard read it to us.”

Free, that helped, but not enough.

The program might be free, but skates weren’t. A helmet wasn’t. Gloves, pads, sticks, registration fees, and every other expense that would come later certainly weren’t.

You knew your son, Oliver did not like things halfway.

If he learned to skate, he would want to play hockey. If he played hockey once, he would want to join a team. And if he joined a team, you didn’t know how you would ever afford to keep him there “Baby…”

His excitement dimmed before you even finished, you hated how well he had learned to recognize that tone “It’s just skating,” he said quietly. “Not real hockey.”

“I know.”

“They have skates there. It says.” Your eyes moved farther down the page, all equipment would be provided. Of course he had already memorized every possible argument “You don’t even have to buy me anything,” Oliver continued. “And I’ll be really careful. I promise.”

“That isn’t what I’m worried about.”

“Are you worried I’ll fall?”

“A little.”

“I fall all the time.”

You nearly laughed despite yourself “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I always get back up.” His answer came so simply that it made your chest ache.

Oliver looked so much like you that sometimes it startled you. The same eyes, the same nose, the same determined line between his brows whenever he wanted something badly enough.

You crouched in front of him, adjusting the hat that had slipped over one of his ears “Hockey can be really expensive, Ollie.”

“But this is free.”

“This program is free. But what happens if you love it?”

His face scrunched in confusion “Would that be bad?”

The question struck harder than it should have, you looked down at the flyer in your hands.

You had spent so much of Oliver’s life trying to protect him from disappointment that perhaps you had begun preventing him from experiencing things at all “No,” you whispered. “Loving something wouldn’t be bad.”

“So I can go?” You hesitated for another few seconds, then Oliver pressed his mittened hands together dramatically “Please, Mommy. Please, please, please. I’ll clean my room every day.”

“You should already be cleaning your room.”

“I’ll clean your room too.”

That finally made you laugh “Okay.”

His mouth dropped open “Okay?”

“One session,” you clarified. “We’ll try it once.”

Oliver threw himself into your arms so hard that you almost fell backward “Thank you! Thank you, Mommy!”

You held him against you, closing your eyes as he bounced excitedly in your embrace, you only hoped you hadn’t just introduced him to something you wouldn’t be able to continue giving him.

The Canadiens’ practice facility was larger than Oliver’s entire school.

He walked beside you with one hand wrapped around two of your fingers, his head turning in every possible direction as volunteers guided families toward the registration tables.

There were Canadiens logos on the walls, photographs of players, and children everywhere dressed in red jerseys.

Oliver had insisted on wearing the Canadiens shirt your younger brother had given him for Christmas. It was slightly too big, hanging almost to his knees beneath his winter coat, but he had refused to take it off “Do you think the players will see my shirt?” he whispered.

“I think it’ll be difficult not to.”

“Do you think Cole Caufield will be here?”

You looked down at him “I don’t know.”

“He’s number twenty-two.”

“I know.”

“He scores lots of goals.”

“I know.”

“He’s not very tall for a hockey player.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile “Maybe don’t say that to him if you meet him.”

“It’s not mean,” Oliver defended. “Madame Girard says we shouldn’t be sad about things we can’t change.”

You stopped walking “Definitely don’t say that to him.”

Before Oliver could respond, a volunteer greeted you and asked for his name, you completed the registration forms while he stood pressed against your side, nearly vibrating with anticipation.

A few minutes later, he was fitted for skates, a helmet, elbow pads, and gloves. Everything was supplied by the program, just as the flyer had promised, Oliver looked down at himself in complete wonder “Mommy, look.”

“I’m looking.”

“I look like a hockey player.”

Your heart squeezed “You do.”

He lifted his helmeted head, beaming at you, for a moment, all of your fears disappeared beneath the sight of his smile, then he attempted to stand. His skates slipped in opposite directions, and he grabbed your arms before he could fall “Okay,” he muttered. “Maybe not yet.”

You laughed and helped him shuffle toward the rink entrance.

Several Canadiens players were already on the ice, skating between groups of children. Parents filled the stands, holding phones and waving whenever their children looked toward them.

Oliver stopped the second he spotted the players, his gloved hand tightened around yours “That’s Nick Suzuki,” he whispered urgently “He’s the captain.”

“I recognize him.”

“And that’s Juraj Slafkovský.” You nodded as though you hadn’t spent the previous evening looking up the Canadiens roster so you wouldn’t embarrass him “And that’s…”

Oliver gasped.

You followed his gaze, a smaller player in a red Canadiens practice jersey was crouched near the boards, helping a little girl adjust her grip on the skating aid in front of her “Cole Caufield,” Oliver breathed.

Cole looked toward the entrance at that exact moment, his eyes landed on Oliver, who was still staring at him as though he had just seen a superhero come to life.

Cole smiled and lifted one glove in a wave, Oliver immediately hid behind you.

You blinked.

The child who had talked about Cole Caufield for three days had suddenly forgotten how to function “Was that him?” you asked teasingly.

Oliver peeked around your coat “He waved at me.”

“He did.”

“Why?”

“Probably because you were staring at him.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You didn’t blink for thirty seconds.”

Before Oliver could argue, one of the instructors called his group toward the ice, his excitement vanished, he stared at the surface in front of him, then at the other children already wobbling away from the boards “You’re okay,” you assured him.

“What if I fall?”

“You told me you always get back up.”

“That was before I saw the ice.”

You crouched carefully beside him “You don’t have to do it if you’re scared.”

Oliver looked from you to the rink “I want to.”

“Then being scared is okay.”

He swallowed “Will you stay?”

“The entire time.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

With one final nervous breath, Oliver stepped onto the ice, his skates immediately slid forward. Before he could hit the ground, two gloved hands caught him beneath his arms “Got you, buddy.”

Oliver froze.

Cole Caufield steadied him, keeping one hand against his shoulder until his skates stopped moving “You okay?”

Oliver stared at him, Cole waited. You stood on the other side of the glass, trying desperately not to laugh at your normally talkative son’s sudden silence.

Cole glanced toward you, eyebrows raised in a silent question, you smiled apologetically “He knows who you are,” you called through the open gate.

Cole looked back at Oliver “Oh, yeah?”

Oliver finally nodded “You’re number twenty-two.”

“That’s me.”

“You score lots of goals.”

“I try to.”

“And you’re not very—”

“Oliver.” His helmet snapped toward you, you gave him a warning look, Cole’s lips twitched “I’m not very what?”

“Old,” Oliver finished quickly, you covered your face with one hand, Cole laughed “Well, thank you. I think.”

Oliver seemed to relax at the sound, Cole helped him place both hands on a plastic skating aid “Have you skated before?”

“No.”

“That’s okay. I fell the first time I skated too.”

Oliver looked suspicious “You did?”

“Definitely.”

“How many times?”

“I don’t remember.”

“A lot?”

Cole glanced at you again “A lot,” he confirmed.

That seemed to be exactly what Oliver needed to hear. He pushed forward carefully, his skates moving only a few inches, Cole stayed beside him “That’s it, small steps.”

Oliver took another.

Then another.

Within minutes, he had made it halfway down the boards with Cole skating backward in front of him, every time Oliver’s legs began to slip, Cole caught him. Every time he looked toward you, you waved and smiled.

You should have been watching your son.

Instead, you found yourself watching Cole too. There was something unexpectedly gentle about him. He never rushed the children or laughed when they fell. He crouched to their level when they spoke, listening seriously even when one little boy spent nearly five minutes explaining the exact design he wanted painted on a future goalie mask.

And with Oliver, Cole seemed especially patient, perhaps it was because Oliver continued asking questions “How fast can you skate?”

“Pretty fast.”

“Faster than Nick?”

“You should ask Nick.”

“Do you ever get scared before games?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you cry when you lose?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do grown-ups cry?”

“All the time.”

Oliver considered that answer for a moment “My mom cries in the bathroom sometimes because she thinks I can’t hear her.”

Your smile disappeared.

Cole’s eyes immediately lifted toward you, you looked away, heat spreading across your face. Children had no respect for privacy “What do you do when that happens?” Cole asked carefully.

“I sit outside the door.”

“That probably helps her.”

“I think so.”

“It definitely does.”

Your throat tightened, Cole didn’t look at you again, and you were grateful for it, he simply guided Oliver forward, one small step at a time.

By the end of the session, Oliver could move several feet without holding the skating aid. He still fell constantly, but each time he pushed himself back onto his knees with a determined little grunt.

Cole was there every time, offering a hand but waiting to see whether Oliver wanted to stand on his own, when the session ended, Oliver refused to leave the ice “Five more minutes,” he begged.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” you reminded him from the gate.

“I’m practicing.”

“The next group needs the rink.” Oliver looked toward Cole for support, Cole lifted both hands “Your mom’s the boss.”

Oliver sighed dramatically and shuffled toward the exit.

Cole helped him off the ice before kneeling to remove the guards from his borrowed skates “You did really well today,” he told him.

“I fell fourteen times.”

“Only fourteen?”

Oliver’s eyes widened “Is that good?”

“For your first day? Very.” Cole held out his fist, and Oliver eagerly bumped it with his glove, then Cole looked up at you “You’ve got a natural.”

You laughed softly “You don’t have to encourage him.”

“I’m serious. He’s fearless.”

“He was terrified twenty minutes ago.”

“Being fearless doesn’t mean you’re never scared.” Cole glanced at Oliver, who was now attempting to walk toward a volunteer without lifting his skate blades from the rubber floor. “It means you try anyway.”

You watched your son nearly trip over his own feet “He definitely tries.”

Cole stood, pulling off one of his gloves “You’re coming back next week, right?”

Your smile faltered, the program ran for six sessions, but you had only committed to one, Oliver had already reached the equipment table and couldn’t hear you “I’m not sure.”

Cole’s expression changed slightly “Did he not like it?”

“He loved it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You knew he wasn’t trying to pry. His voice held only genuine confusion, but embarrassment still settled heavily in your stomach “There isn’t a problem.”

Cole studied you for a second. You busied yourself with gathering Oliver’s coat and shoes “The program is free,” he said gently. “And all the equipment stays here for the kids.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to buy anything.”

“I read the flyer.” He went quiet, you closed Oliver’s small backpack more forcefully than necessary “I’m sorry,” Cole said. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

The immediate apology softened you.

You sighed and glanced toward Oliver, who was telling a volunteer about the fourteen times he had fallen “I know the program is free,” you said quietly. “But hockey isn’t.”

Cole remained silent.

“He’s six. He doesn’t understand that this might be the only time he gets to do something like this.” You folded Oliver’s scarf before stuffing it into his coat sleeve. “What happens when the program ends and he asks to keep playing? What happens when he wants skates that actually belong to him or wants to join a team? I can’t afford that.”

You hated saying it aloud.

You especially hated saying it to someone whose entire life revolved around the sport you could barely imagine paying for “I just didn’t want him falling in love with something I’d have to take away later,” you admitted.

Cole looked toward Oliver.

For several seconds, neither of you spoke, then he leaned against the boards beside you “My parents made a lot of sacrifices for hockey.”

You looked at him.

“Equipment, travel, tournaments. My brother played too. It wasn’t easy.”

“I imagine NHL contracts make it worth it eventually.”

Cole smiled faintly “They didn’t know I’d play in the NHL when I was six.”

“No, but you were probably good.”

“I was six,” he repeated. “I spent half my practices looking at the ceiling and asking when we got snacks.”

That pulled a reluctant laugh from you, Cole’s smile grew “There are programs that help with equipment and registration,” he continued. “Secondhand gear, community funding, foundations. Hockey is expensive, but there are people working to make it less impossible.”

You looked back toward Oliver “I don’t want charity.”

“It isn’t charity.”

“It feels like it.”

“It’s giving a kid the chance to play.” you crossed your arms over your chest, Cole’s tone remained gentle “You’ve already decided you can’t give him hockey before you’ve found out whether he even wants it.”

“That’s because I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.”

Cole’s expression softened “And you’re trying to protect him.”

“Yes.”

“But maybe this isn’t something you need to protect him from.”

Oliver suddenly came racing toward you in his socks, carrying a participation certificate “Mommy, look! Cole signed it!”

You accepted the paper before it could bend “That’s amazing.”

“And he said I did good.”

“You did do good.”

Oliver looked up at you hopefully “Can we come again next week?”

You felt Cole watching you, though he made no attempt to interfere, you looked at your son’s flushed cheeks and messy hair. He was happier than you had seen him in weeks “One more session,” you said.

Oliver cheered, Cole smiled, you pointed at hi “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

One more session became two, then three, by the fourth week, Oliver no longer needed a skating aid. He wasn’t graceful, but he was fast—or at least he believed he was.

He would push himself across the ice with quick, uneven strides, his arms extended for balance while Cole followed behind him. You began looking forward to Saturdays more than you wanted to admit.

Not only because of Oliver.

Cole always found you before the session began, sometimes he brought Oliver a hot chocolate from the players’ lounge, sometimes he sat beside you in the stands while another instructor helped Oliver lace his skates. Once, when your bus had been delayed and you arrived ten minutes late, Cole had been waiting near the entrance.

“We thought you weren’t coming,” he said, Oliver rushed toward the equipment room “You thought Oliver wasn’t coming,” you corrected. Cole shoved his hands into his jacket pockets “Both of you.”

You pretended not to notice the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

You also pretended not to notice how often he looked toward you from the ice, at first, you convinced yourself he was checking whether Oliver’s mother was watching him. Then you realized he did it even when Oliver was with another player.

Cole would catch your eye through the glass, smile, and return his attention to the children.

It was harmless.

That was what you told yourself, he was kind. You were grateful. Nothing more needed to happen.

Your life was complicated enough.

You worked full-time at a dental office, attended evening classes twice a week, and raised Oliver alone. You didn’t have time to date, especially not someone whose face was printed on jerseys throughout Montreal.

Besides, men your age rarely knew what to do when they learned you had a six-year-old.

Some became uncomfortable. Some treated Oliver as an inconvenience. Others were interested until they understood that you couldn’t disappear for spontaneous weekends or stay out until two in the morning.

Oliver always came first.

There was no negotiation, Cole seemed to understand that without ever being told. When he asked you to get coffee after the fifth session, he didn’t ask whether you could find someone to watch Oliver. He nodded toward the small café across from the facility “Do you guys have time before you head home?”

Oliver answered before you could “Can I get a muffin?”

Cole smiled “I think that can be arranged.”

The three of you sat near the window, Oliver happily pulling apart a blueberry muffin while telling Cole everything he had learned about penguins at school, Cole listened as though the information was vital “They can’t fly,” Oliver explained seriously.

“That seems unfair.”

“But they can swim really fast.”

“So they’re basically fish birds.”

Oliver’s face lit up “Fish birds.”

You stirred your coffee, hiding your smile behind the cup, Cole glanced at you “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are a little,” Oliver informed him.

“Thank you for defending me, buddy.”

“You called penguins fish birds.”

“I stand by it.”

Oliver dissolved into giggles, you watched them, something unfamiliar and dangerous unfolding inside your chest.

It wasn’t simply that Cole was good with Oliver.

Plenty of people could be charming with a child for an hour, it was the way he included him naturally. He didn’t speak to you over Oliver’s head or act as though your son was preventing the two of you from having a proper conversation.

To Cole, Oliver wasn’t an obstacle, he was part of the conversation, part of the invitation, part of you. When Oliver left the table to choose a sticker from the café counter, Cole leaned closer “So, I have a question.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It isn’t.” you waited “Would you let me take you to dinner?”

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup “Cole…”

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing.”

“You’re asking me on a date.”

“That’s usually what dinner means.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you became a mom when you were seventeen.” you stared at him “Oliver told me.”

“Of course he did.”

“He also told me you make the best grilled cheese, you’re scared of spiders, and you sing in the car when you think he’s asleep.”

Your embarrassment grew with every word “I’m going to have a serious conversation with him about oversharing.”

Cole smiled “I know you work six days some weeks. I know you’re taking classes because you want to become a dental hygienist. I know you always bring an extra pair of mittens for Oliver because he loses one almost every time you leave the house.”

You looked toward your son, he was still examining the stickers “And I know you spend so much time worrying about giving him enough that you don’t realize he looks at you like you gave him the entire world.”

Your throat tightened, Cole’s smile softened “I know enough to want to know more.”

“You play for the Canadiens.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“People know who you are.”

“Sometimes.”

“My life doesn’t look like yours.”

“I’m not asking it to.”

“I have a child.”

“I noticed.”

“He comes first.”

“He should.”

There was no hesitation, no disappointment, no subtle attempt to convince you that perhaps, eventually, you could put someone else first. Cole simply accepted it “He will always come first,” you repeated.

Cole nodded “That doesn’t mean there can’t be room for anyone else.”

Oliver returned to the table with a glittery dinosaur sticker pressed to his coat “Look, Mommy.”

You smiled at him “I see it.” He turned toward Cole “Are you coming to our house?” your eyes widened “Oliver.”

“What?” He looked between you. “He asked about dinner.”

Cole pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a laugh, you narrowed your eyes at him “Don’t encourage him.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Oliver climbed back into his chair “We have spaghetti.”

“I love spaghetti,” Cole said.

“Cole.”

He finally laughed “All right. I’ll stop.” but when you looked down at your coffee, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Your first date happened at a small Italian restaurant two weeks later.

Your mother watched Oliver, though he had loudly complained that he wanted to come too “It isn’t fair,” he had declared while you stood in front of your mirror, trying to decide whether your dress looked too formal. “Cole is my friend.”

“He was my friend first,” Oliver continued. “I met him on the ice.”

“You’ll survive one evening.”

“Are you going to kiss him?”

You nearly poked yourself in the eye with your mascara wand “Why would you ask that?”

“Grandma said it’s a date.”

“Grandma needs to mind her business.”

Oliver appeared in the doorway, wearing his dinosaur pajamas “If you marry him, can I play hockey for free?” You stared at him through the mirror “That is absolutely not how marriage works.”

“Can he live here?”

“You are getting very far ahead of yourself.”

“Can I call him Dad?” Your hand stilled, Oliver’s expression remained innocent, but the question settled painfully between you, you turned in your chair “Come here.”

He walked over, and you pulled him gently between your knees “Cole and I are only going to dinner.”

“But if he becomes your boyfriend?”

“Then he would be my boyfriend.”

“Not my dad?”

“No.” You brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Being someone’s dad is a really big job. It doesn’t happen just because someone dates their mommy.”

Oliver looked down at the floor “I don’t have one.”

Your chest broke a little more every time he said it “You have me.”

“I know.”

“And Grandma, and Uncle Daniel, and so many people who love you.”

“But not a dad.” You pulled him into your arms “No,” you whispered. “Not a dad.”

Oliver rested his cheek against your shoulder “Cole would be good at it.” You closed your eyes, that was exactly what frightened you.

Cole never pushed.

Not when you hesitated to let him pick you up at your apartment, not when you refused to introduce him as anything more than Oliver’s skating instructor, not when you cancelled your third date because Oliver woke with a fever , instead, Cole showed up at your door with soup, children’s medicine, and a Canadiens blanket “You didn’t have to come,” you told him.

“I know.”

“You have a game tomorrow.”

“I’m aware.”

“You should be resting.”

“I can rest here.”

He spent the afternoon on the opposite end of your couch while Oliver slept against your chest. Cole watched game footage on his tablet with headphones, occasionally looking over to make sure you didn’t need anything.

When Oliver woke, warm and miserable, Cole played cartoons with him until he fell asleep again, he didn’t make a big production of helping.

He simply did it.

Over the following months, Cole became woven into your lives so gradually that you barely noticed it happening, his extra toothbrush appeared beside yours.

A small pile of his clothes formed in the bottom drawer of your dresser.

Oliver began asking whether Cole would be joining you before you even mentioned weekend plans, Cole attended Oliver’s school performance and sat beside your mother, clapping louder than anyone when Oliver delivered his single line.

He learned which vegetables Oliver would eat and which ones required negotiation, he knew that nightmares meant Oliver needed the hallway light left on and that thunderstorms usually sent him climbing into your bed.

Most importantly, Cole never tried to replace anyone.

He didn’t demand a title, he didn’t force affection, he let Oliver decide what their relationship would become, the skating program eventually ended, but Oliver’s love for hockey did not.

You had known it wouldn’t.

The final day, he left the ice with tears streaming down his face “I don’t want it to be over.”

You crouched in front of him, wiping his cheeks “I know.”

“I want to keep skating.”

“We’ll figure something out.” It was the same kind of promise you had made his entire life, a soft answer designed to delay disappointment.

This time, Oliver recognized it “You said hockey costs too much.”

Cole, standing a few feet away, went still, you glanced at him before returning your attention to Oliver “We can look at different programs.”

“But can I play on a team?”

“I don’t know, baby.”

Oliver’s lower lip trembled, Cole stepped closer “Hey, Ollie.” Oliver turned toward him, Cole knelt beside you “Do you remember what I said on your first day?”

“That you fell a lot.”

“Besides that.”

Oliver sniffed “That being scared is okay.”

“And what else?”

“I don’t know.”

Cole nudged his knee gently “I said you were fearless because you kept trying.” Oliver nodded “So we’ll keep trying,” Cole said. “Your mom and I will figure it out.”

Your head snapped toward him “Cole.” he looked at you calmly “We’ll figure it out.”

Later, after Oliver had gone with your mother to choose a celebratory snack from the vending machines, you pulled Cole aside “You can’t promise him things like that.”

“I didn’t promise anything.”

“You told him we would figure it out.”

“We will.”

“No, I will.”

Cole’s brows furrowed “Why?”

“Because he is my responsibility.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to pay for him.”

“I didn’t say I was going to.”

“But that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking there are a dozen youth hockey organizations in Montreal, and I know people involved in most of them.”

You crossed your arms “I don’t want you calling someone and getting him special treatment because you’re Cole Caufield.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I won’t.” You hadn’t expected him to agree so easily, Cole took out his phone “What are you doing?”

“Looking up the community equipment program I told you about.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

His fingers moved across the screen “There’s an application for registration support, it’s based on household income, not who someone knows.” You stared at him, Cole held the phone toward you “You can apply. Oliver gets the same opportunity as every other kid in the program. No special treatment.”

You looked down at the webpage “They cover equipment?”

“Some of it. There’s also an exchange program for used skates.”

Your eyes burned unexpectedly, you blinked hard, refusing to cry inside the Canadiens’ practice facility “I didn’t know where to start,” you admitted.

“That’s okay.”

“I should have figured it out.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m his mother.”

Cole’s expression softened “Being his mom doesn’t mean you have to know everything.”

“It feels like it does.”

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

“I’ve been doing everything alone for six years.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know how not to.”

Cole slipped his phone back into his pocket “Then start small.” you looked at him “Let me help you fill out the form.”

“That’s your definition of small?”

“I was going to suggest letting me carry the equipment bag, but we haven’t bought one yet.” a laugh escaped you through the tears you were trying to suppress, Cole smiled and stepped closer “Just the form,” he promised. “You make every decision. I’ll just sit beside you.”

You looked through the glass toward Oliver, who was showing your mother a bag of chips, then you looked back at Cole “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Just the form.”

His grin widened “Just the form.”

Oliver made the team.

It was a beginner league with Saturday morning practices and games that mostly consisted of children chasing the puck in one enormous group, he wore secondhand skates, borrowed shoulder pads, and a helmet funded through the community program.

You had never seen him happier, Cole attended the first game wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, hoping not to draw attention away from the children.

It didn’t work.

Within ten minutes, half the parents had recognized him, Cole signed a few autographs but politely redirected every conversation toward the players on the ice “I’m here for number nine,” he said, pointing toward Oliver.

Oliver scored his first goal by accident.

The puck bounced off another child’s skate, hit Oliver’s stick, and slowly slid across the line while the goalie was looking in the opposite direction, Oliver stood frozen for two full seconds.

Then he lifted both arms and screamed.

You jumped to your feet “That’s my baby!” every head in the stands turned toward you, you didn’t care. Cole was already standing beside you, cheering nearly as loudly.

Oliver looked into the crowd, his eyes found you first, then they moved to Cole. He pointed at both of you through the glass. After the game, he came flying out of the locker room still wearing half his equipment “Did you see?”

“We saw,” you laughed as he crashed into you.

“I scored!”

“You did!”

Cole crouched beside him “That was a beauty.”

“It was an accident,” Oliver admitted “They all count.” Oliver threw his arms around Cole’s neck, Cole froze. So did you.

Oliver had hugged him before, but this felt different.

Perhaps because he held on, perhaps because Cole’s arms slowly wrapped around him in return, one hand settling protectively against the back of Oliver’s helmet “You came to my game,” Oliver whispered.

“Of course I did.”

“Will you come to the next one?”

Cole looked over Oliver’s shoulder at you “As long as your mom wants me here.” Oliver released him and turned toward you “Do you?”

Your heart felt painfully full, you met Cole’s gaze.

He had never asked for more than you were prepared to give. He had stood beside you exactly as promised, never taking control, never making you feel incapable.

He loved Oliver.

You could see it in every expression, every patient answer, every Saturday morning he spent at a rink when he could have been sleeping after a game. And somewhere along the way, you had fallen completely in love with him too.

“Yes,” you said softly. “I want him here.”

Oliver smiled “Every game?”

You laughed “We’ll check his schedule.”

Cole reached for your hand, his fingers slipped between yours with an ease that still amazed you “Every game I can,” he promised.

Oliver nodded, satisfied, then he looked between the two of you “Can I call you Dad now?”

The hallway went silent, your breath caught, Cole’s hand tightened around yours “Ollie,” you began gently but Cole lowered himself until he was eye level with him “Do you want to?”

Oliver nodded.

“You know you don’t have to, right?” Cole asked. “You can call me Cole forever, and I’ll still come to your games. I’ll still help you practice. I’ll still care about you exactly the same.”

“I want to.”

Cole’s eyes turned glassy, you covered your mouth with your free hand, Oliver shifted nervously “Is it okay?”

Cole pulled him into his arms “Yeah, buddy,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “It’s more than okay.”

Oliver hugged him tightly.

You watched them, tears finally slipping down your cheeks, six years earlier, you had sat in a doctor’s office convinced that your life was ending.

In reality, it had only been beginning.

The road had been harder than you could have imagined. You had spent years counting every dollar, questioning every decision, and trying to become every person Oliver might ever need.

You had believed accepting help meant you had somehow failed, Cole had shown you otherwise, you had not failed because Oliver needed more people to love him.

You had succeeded in raising a child whose heart was open enough to welcome them.

Cole stood with Oliver still clinging to his side and reached for you, you stepped into his embrace. Oliver became squished between you, laughing as he complained that he couldn’t breathe.

Cole kissed the top of his helmet before pressing his lips to your forehead “I love you,” he murmured, you leaned into him “I love you too.” Oliver wriggled until his face appeared between you.

“I love hockey.”

You and Cole both laughed “We know,” you told him.

“And I love you.” Your expression softened “I love you too, baby.”

Oliver looked at Cole “And I love Cole.” Cole closed his eyes briefly, his smile trembling at the edges “I love you too, Ollie.”

For once, you weren’t thinking about what came next.

You weren’t calculating the price of new skates or worrying about next month’s schedule. You weren’t wondering whether something good would eventually be taken away.

You simply stood between the two people you loved most, surrounded by the sound of children laughing and skates cutting across the ice, you had brought Oliver to the program believing hockey might give him something you couldn’t afford.

Instead, it had given both of you something money could never buy.

A family.

[i-am-bic]

"There's no platonic explanation for this" <-you need to be nicer to your friends. Right now

[minimouse02]

Best Friend´s little sister

pairing: Will Smith x Celebrini!reader

description: You're dating Will but your brother doesn't know that.

liked by mackcelebrini, youruser, sanjosesharks, gabeperreault44 and 287,421 others

_willsmith2 good week

View all 39,834 comments

random MACK AND WILL ❤️

random slide two...

random WHO DID YOU CROP OUT

random that's literally blonde hair 😭

random bro cropped 90% of the person and left the hair

random worst FBI agent ever

mackcelebrini poor fan you cropped out dude

_willsmith2 wow thanks

mackcelebrini wasn't a compliment

random EVEN MACK NOTICED 😭

random okay but who is she???

random girlfriend reveal loading...

random imagine if it's someone we all know

gabeperreault44 impressive editing skills

_willsmith2 appreciate it

gabeperreault44 wasn't a compliment either

random LMAOOO

random i'm telling you there's a girl

liked by mackcelebrini, _willsmith2, graceccsmith and 12,438 others

youruser summer reset 🌊

View all 1,491 comments

random beach girl forever

random pickleball season!!

random who's the guy next to her though 👀

random okay wait...

random guy + sunset = suspicious

mackcelebrini next time i'm winning

youruser you literally weren't invited

mackcelebrini rude

_willsmith2 skill issue

mackcelebrini whose side are you on???

_willsmith2 the winning teams'

random 😭😭😭

random so it was will next to her???

random the lego keychains are SO CUTE

random who has the matching one??

random matching lego keychains is relationship behavior...

random i'm filing that away

liked by youruser, mackcelebrini, graceccsmith and 301,992 others

_willsmith2 off days ☀️

View all 54,186 comments

random WHO IS HE SMILING AT LIKE THAT

random definitely a girl

random the blonde hair AGAIN

random SHE'S BACK

graceccsmithi know that jbl speaker from somewhere...

_willsmith2 no you don´t

gabeperreault44 just post her at this point

_willsmith2 no

gabeperreault44 coward

mackcelebrini who's "her"

_willsmith2 no one you know

mackcelebrini sure

random THAT PAUSE 😭

random WILL PANICKED

random the crop is somehow even worse this time

random bro left HALF HER HAND

liked by _willsmith2, mackcelebrini, sanjosesharks and 13,194 others

youruser 📸

View all 1,483 comments

random THAT CAMERA

random WAIT

random wasn't that in will's post???

random am i connecting dots or am i insane

random slide three????

random WHO IS ON YOUR LAP

random BLONDE MAN ALERT

mackcelebrini what is that thing on your lap???

youruser sleepy

mackcelebrini that's not what i asked

youruser next question

random 😭😭😭

_willsmith2 looks comfortable

youruser it was

random HELLO???

random WHY WOULD HE COMMENT THAT

random hold on...

random no way

random impossible

random unless...

random Mack would kill him

liked by youruser, mackcelebrini, _connorbedard and 312,740 others

_willsmith2 lately 🙂

View all 22,827 comments

random HE'S IN THE KITCHEN AGAIN

random WHO IS THE BLONDE GIRL

random just hard launch her already

random slide two 😭

random SHARING HEADPHONES???

random boyfriend activities

mackcelebrini alright enough mysterious posts

_willsmith2 what do you mean

mackcelebrini i know you're hiding something

_willsmith2 am i?

mackcelebrini yes

random LITTLE DOES HE KNOW

random imagine if it's Mack's sister 😭😭😭

mackcelebrini absolutely not

random mack would actually kill him

random yeah will values his life too much

random definitely not his sister lol

youruser maybe it's just a friend

random WAIT WHY IS SHE DEFENDING HIM

random hmmmm...

liked by _willsmith2, mackcelebrini, sanjosesharks and 12,994 others

youruser go sharks 💙🦈

View all 1,391 comments

random nice jersey!!

random whose jersey is it???

random okay why did you crop mack out 😭

random GIRL THAT'S LITERALLY JUST WILL YOU POSTED

random poor mack got sacrificed

mackcelebrini excuse me???

youruser artistic vision

mackcelebrini i'm barely in the picture

youruser exactly

_willsmith2 i think it looks great

mackcelebrini OF COURSE YOU DO

random WILL WAS SO FAST

random bro liked the crop a little TOO much

random WAIT

random didn't will crop somebody out...

random and now she cropped mack out...

random ARE THEY

random nah

random impossible

random ...right?

_connorbedard i'm just here to observe

random CONNOR KNOWS SOMETHING 😭

gabeperreault44 mack's gonna need a minute when he finds out

mackcelebrini finds out what?

gabeperreault44 nothing

random I'M LOSING MY MIND

random everyone except mack knows energy 😭

[visacardteamloverrr]

Hi! I really liked your goalie reader x Nathan MacKinnon media au so much. I was wondering if you could do something similar for Cale Makar and player reader with another media au? (I just love the concept of the reader also playing hockey) it’s ok if not though, I completely understand.

the only one i dream of cm8

summary: yn yln is the forward for the Montreal Victoire, ruthless on the ice swagger outside. cale makar often finds himself scoring points and...injuring his captain? (coping mechanism im so sorry) what will happen? you've guessed it - we shall see a/u: reader once again is canadian i couldn't help myself, i love cale he's so awkward. schedule of the games is non existent and so are the logistics. possible grammar errors as usual - enjoy ! a/u: it's a bit on the shorter side as uni has been kicking my ass lately but here we go. my boy cale deserves some loving. hope anon will like it!

5yn1

5yn1 dentist said i grind in my sleep #yeehaw

comments

maureen_murphy YEEHAW

linaljungblom no please stop

wedgewall Such a cool experience, will be back

5yn1 yes pls your girls are lucky charms

skylarirving38 frat soul in hockey body

iloveyn those captions are somethin else

_veggie i LIVE for the celly's

montrealsbby the duality of woman

5yn1

5yn1 nintendo on the porch cuz wii outside

comments

maureen_murphy my feet still hurt

skylarirving38 i was right.

5yn1 girl whatever

hayleyscamurra mama will be mad

5yn1 and who do you think took the pics hayleyscamurra ain't no way pou29 whoops

mackinnon29 what even is that caption

5yn1 you're just jealous

5yn1

5yn1 finally made it to see my fans play

comments

coloradoavalanche A pleasure to have you!

5yn1 pleasure all mine <3

landeskog.92 you're a bad influence hope you know that

5yn1 i know nothing (alr buying more gifts for them)

mackinnon29 wow what a honor to be posted

mackinnon29 favs*

5yn1 yeah no 6erikjohnson6 Because I wasn't playing 5yn1 MY FAVOURITE PLAYERS OF ALL TIME YESSSSSS 6erikjohnson6 Rude

calemakar_ Hope you liked it

5yn1 it wasn't bad

_veggie cale makar's scream could be heard all throughout denver rn

pwhllover wait why montrealsbby cale often praises yn's game and it became a running joke that he is a fangirl _veggie "cale does some serious magic on ice, would hate to play against him but i'd love to have him on my team" daughter or "yn is a phenomenal player, she's aware of every single detail on the ice... yeah i'm a fan" son

montrealsbby yn a secret avs fan confirmed???

maureen_murphy and where's the jersey pic

5yn1 omg and what about what happens in the gc stays in the gc iloveyn what

calemakar_

calemakar_ Pwhl takeover tour ✅

comment

mackinnon29 so fun

5yn1 wow so emotional

_veggie go lil boy go maybe yn will notice you

montrealsbby he thinks he's sooo slick with it

6erikjohnson6 Good job Cale

5yn1 geez thx eriC

5yn1 who let the dog(s) out

mackinnon29 please stop

5yn1 give denver a team !!!

pwhllover and would you... 5yn1 i am not leaving montreal thank you very much

devon_toews dumb and dumber

joshmanson42 nice fit

landeskog.92 please don't tell me she brought more gifts

calemakar_ Two signed jerseys coming your way cap

5yn1

5yn1 🎶 LET'S GO GIRLSSSSS 🎶

comments

nursey16 and the dj era is back

pou29 it never ended for us 5yn1 i have THE best playlist ever ready

emmamaltais17 missed my girllll

5yn1 #roomies

juliagosling88 fun fun fun fuuuuun

kristinoneill20 we are olympiaaaaaans

montrealsbby good luckkkkk!!!!!!!

calemakar_ Fingers crossed

mackinnon29 second that marner_93 i third bmarch63 fourth

iloveyn pls drop the playlist

laurastacey7 the less you know the better you sleep 5yn1 laura stacey are you a hater ? laurastacey7 somebody help pou29 that is your fight 5yn1 ;))))

pwhllover yn on aux give me moreee

5yn1

5yn1 i am having some serious ice withdrawals

comments

skylarirving38 but also a private chauffeur !

5yn1 if he doesn't feel fulfilled in what he's doing now - uber career awaits

pou29 we miss you more

5yn1 impossible pou29 no we really do, current locker dj is ass

phwl_truther she's so 😭😭

thebest51 yn where's your rage !!!

linaljungblom dont you worry, pr team had to step up thebest51 pr team for yn ? i- that had to be crazy shit 5yn1 just... strongly worded opinion

_veggie holy shit no wonder she's not coming back

emmamaltais17 were you silent or silenCED

iloveyn victoire avenge your sniper !

landeskog.92 tell him to drive safely

5yn1 yessir mackinnon29 he just doesn't want to loose the bet 5yn1 what bet 5yn1 nathan what bet

5yn1

5yn1 today i'm serving can't

comments

maureen_murphy why two the same pics

5yn1 i am him he is me

laurastacey7 missing you so much

5yn1 missing my cookies* but ok joshmanson42 they're deliciousss

abby_roque girl stop playing the masses

5yn1 girl i am very much NOT playing abby_roque ffs

daragreig why a man would be there

daragreig (tell him to give you back to me)(you two are so cut- GUN SHOTS) 5yn1 don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding true love or whatever they say

montrealsbby yn is for the guys?... who is that #callhimbyhisname

kristinoneill20 yn....

5yn1 whatt kristinoneill20 that was too funny, i almost feel bad for laughing

calemakar_ the gingy twins

5yn1 no why would you skylarirving38 GINGY skylarirving38 GINGY WE MISS YOU GINGY calemakar_ oh, sorry

5yn1

5yn1 auntie gingy and uncle c

comments

maureen_murphy omg you kissed IN FRONT OF THE KIDS???

5yn1 chilllll we're childless not decency-less

daragreig she walks!!!!!!

5yn1 barely but we ballllll

devon_toews why do my kids know the whole discography of shania twain all of sudden

5yn1 don't look at me devon_toews "uncle c said those are bangers" 5yn1 no way !!!

calemakar_ knew gingy would stick around ;)

_veggie UNCLE C???? let me think...

iloveyn oh cmon you said you will think about yncale agenda and now there's a boyfriend?

montrealsbby i have an idea...

capclutch why is no one asking serious questions - since when devon and yn are that close to let her AND some random babysit his kids (no offence yn. i believe in your babysitting skills)

calemakar_

calemakar_ just some random's summer

comments

5yn1 cha cha real smooth

mackinnon29 💸💸💸

landeskog.92 seriously? now? timeout for you.

wedgewall is it a good moment to ask for tickets

5yn1 for you always

skylarirving38 oof someone had enough

joshmanson42 MORE COOKIES FOR ME

joshmanson42 for us*******

_veggie NO WAY HE DID IT NO WAYYYYYY

devon_toews i really thought there will be shania lyrics in the caption

5yn1 we all know you love her too

pwhllover cale really said i made it and immediately dipped

calemakar_ have you seen my gf ?? makarmackinnon oh my i-

5yn1

5yn1 eat your veggies

comments

pou29 quick everybody pretend you're shocked

laurastacey7 that's a brand new information !

emmamaltais17 🎤 name a male athlete

5yn1 myboyfriend and uhhhhhh the guy who plays basketball...lebron !!!

nursey16 cale makar who would have guessed thattt

kristinoneill20 i don't know cale makar, i only know THE yn yln's boyfriend

6erikjohnson6 Same

mackinnon29 im sure you do eat your veggies

5yn1 what can i say

joshmanson42 wait so are you like officially a part of the avs fam??

landeskog.92 yeah are you? pou29 yn cmon speak up linaljungblom good luck it was nice knowing you yn coloradoavalanche our rink is always open for you victoire_lphf we don't like sharing 5yn1 manson count your days calemakar_ #awkward

montrealsbby yn's speech bubble is already rubbing onto him

5yn1

5yn1 hold my beer ft victoire's angels and avs-in-laws

comments

laurastacey7 im impressed

5yn1 thx i try my best

skylarirving38 that was a heck of a summer

landeskog.92 i believe i'm in possession of two of your biggest fans

5yn1 send them my way and make it three for mel*

_veggie the last pic looks suspiciously like...

montrealsbby engagement.

mackinnon29 fine

5yn1 don't sulk it's not my fault you lost the bet landeskog.92 nate listen 💸💸💸 they're flying straight to my wallet

emmamaltais17 avs-in-laws THAT'S SO SMART

5yn1 did i lie ? calemakar_ she did not joshmanson42 boy put the auto cap back on

laurastacey7 loved it

5yn1 your wife not that much i reckon laurastacey7 she's still salty about it pou29 i am not. laurastacey7 💸

swagger so you're telling me that BOTH 29s lost money this summer ? why what how

calemakar_ looks like we made it

5yn1 i'm so glad we made it

devon_toews you two sicken me

calemakar_ you'd better learn all the shania lyrics devon_toews who do you think i am, i know them all and i'm so ready for it

6erikjohnson6 Caler's got moves

5yn1 oh yes he does 6erikjohnson6 And looking at that rock he also has taste

maureen_murphy and now you can't 'all the single ladies put your hands up'

5yn1 don't worry my last performance to it will be the best

sh0tthepuck THEY'RE DEFO ENGAGED RING THE BELLS

victoire_lphf ig we could share

coloradoavalanche you can take cale and we'll take yn victoire_lphf do not push your luck

[puckability]

The Brunch

Cale Makar x fem!reader

after years of orbiting each other, you get a front row seat to Cale losing all respect from his teammates in pursuit of a date with you

warnings - sarcastic reader, use of y/n, not beta read

a/n - this one was requested by the lovely @wonderfullyhiddensaga, i hope you like it and i'm sorry it took so long <3

The fact that you and Cale hadn't actually encountered each other yet had your best friend at a complete loss.

You'd met Cale's sister on the first day of pre-med, surrounded by other students looking equally as intimidated. She'd sought you out, the only other girl there wearing black even in the late summer heat.

"I love your hoodie!" She'd said, all excited eyes and bouncing blonde hair.

"Thanks?" and okay, so you weren't the most sociable person in the world, and you were also pretty skeptical that she knew the band adorned across your back.

Except she had, and she'd also been persistent even in your skepticism and to cut a long story short, you'd been best friends ever since.

That had been eight years ago, so the fact that you and her brother had never crossed paths was somewhat impossible given how many holidays you had spent with their family.

Still, she was desperate for you two to meet, her two favourite people in the world. That was how you'd ended up at the Avalanche brunch on a rare day off from rotation.

"He's around here somewhere, I'll go find him, stay here." She said, before catching the attention of someone across the room and working her way through the crowd.

You eyed the men behind the tressel tables currently adorned with piles of breakfast food and decided you'd have a better time waiting if you had food in your hand.

That's when he sees you.

You're wearing a dark blue skirt that's probably a touch too short for brunch with people you don't know and a pretty white flowing blouse that was your usual go to for formal events.

He's clocked you before you've noticed him, mid conversation with Gabe who stops talking to see what Cale is staring at.

You start further down the line, chatting with another woman about your age as a couple of little girls giggle in front of you.

Its Nathan MacKinnon that starts handing out the food first, and it feels a bit weird, you're adjacent to these people without you really knowing them, and they have no idea who you are.

It's while you're making polite conversation with the man that Cale appears.

Or rather, disappears on his way to talk to you.

You can't help the snort you let out as you watch him trip over something covered by the tables, arms flailing in the air before you actually hear his body hit the floor.

"Jeez Cale, watch what you're doing you dumbass," Brent sniggers from the opposite side of the line tipping his head back with a laugh as Cale tries and fails to scramble to his feet.

"I thought hockey players were supposed to be good on their feet," you laugh, leaning over the food a little to see your best friend's brother looking a little worse for wear in a pile of napkins.

"He's not a hockey player, he's an idiot." Gabe pipes up from further down.

"Nate help him up, I can't serve this on my own," the captain says before turning back to the piles of bacon and eggs in front of him.

Cale finally gets himself vertical, dusting off the maroon apron and running a hand through his hair.

"y/n, right? Katie's best friend?" He says, and you nod, holding back the giggle as his team mates make faces behind him.

"The very same, good trip?" you ask with a smirk, you can see the blush working its way up his neck.

"Katie said you were nice," and you didn't think it could be that endearing to watch a grown man pout.

"We both know your sister sees the best in people," you reply, moving further along the tables as the line starts to get busy behind you.

"Where is she anyway? Mom wants a picture of us all together," he asks.

"Schmoozing with the big dogs over there I think, she was looking for you,"

That's all that's said between you for the moment as you leave in search of your best friend.

You find her chatting with some CFO from Denver about in house first aid training and tag into the conversation while you empty your plate.

By the time you've both done the rounds, Cale has been tracking you across the room the whole time, somewhat ignoring his brunch duties, much to Gabe's annoyance.

"Will you focus? What are you even looking at?" Gabe grumbles from next to him.

"Not what, who. Did you and I not see the same woman laughing at me earlier? I'm trying to see my future wife." Cale says it without a hint of sarcasm.

"You're insane, you don't even know the girl," Gabe laughs quietly as he plates up the scrambled eggs for a family in front of him with a smile.

"I basically do, Katie talks about her all the time, this is just the first time meeting her in person, you should see the way my parents talk about her, mom says shes like her second daughter." Cale replies, stepping back to swipe some bacon while no one was looking.

"Aren't you supposed to be serving that to us? What, don't they feed you in the NHL?" You ask, you'd caught the tail end of that conversation, satisfaction settling in deep at the knowledge that the Makar's thought of you as family.

Cale is staring at you with his mouth hanging open, cheeks rosy pink.

"Ugh dude, close your mouth we're in public," Katie snaps as she rounds the end of the table.

"Nice to see you too Kit-kat,"

"Heard you face planted in front of your teammates, that's embarrassing," her tone is sing song in that way siblings love to annoy each other.

"I don't know why I invite you to these things,"

"Because you love me. Now, have you and y/n properly met? She's been dying to meet you," you slap her arm half heartedly and duck your head, because while no one that knows you would believe that, these men don't know you, and you'd be dead before admitting such a thing.

And the thing was, you did want to meet him, mostly because he was Katie's favourite person other than you and you knew it was important to her, but also kind of because he was hot and you liked a man that was good at his job.

"She's full of shit, I'm only here for the food." You smile, finishing off your second helping of eggs.

"You're breaking my heart here, y/n." Cale says, eyes all sincere but a grin plastered on his face.

"Cale's got a crush on you too don't worry," Gabe adds in which garners a laugh from the others who had now congregated around you four.

"All of you suck," he whines, but he's smiling at you with that boy next door baby face and you can't help the butterflies in your stomach.

"We need to go take our seats," you say, turning Katie by the shoulders in the direction of a table out of ear shot of the over excited hockey players giddy at the prospect of their superstar having a crush.

"I told you he likes you," Katie says as you take your seats.

"Will you quit it? He's your brother." You moan.

"So? I give you permission, you two would make such cute babies, and then we'd actually be sisters, mom will be thrilled." She goes on, shes got the calculated look on her face like all her plans are coming together at once and all you can do is roll your eyes and finish your food.

Things settle for a while, speeches from a few different Avalanche personnel taking place, giving you a reprieve from her meddling.

"I'm thirsty, you want anything?" She asks once the room starts to get a little louder.

"Yeah, I could murder a coffee," she nodded knowingly, you were on ED nights at the moment and your body still hasn't adjusted to the sleep schedule.

She disappears into the crowd, leaving you to muse over the morning so far.

"One coffee for my future w—" you turn at the sound of Cale's voice, just in time to see one of the little girls from earlier run straight in front of him and dislodge the coffee from his hand, straight down his front.

"You're not very good at this being a waiter thing," you muse as he stands there, coffee dripping down his front.

"I won the Stanley Cup once," he groans, sitting down in the empty chair next to you.

"I'm aware, I was there." You reply with a gentle smile.

"Yeah but I couldn't see you so I wasn't distracted,"

"Oh so today is all my fault?"

"Uhm, wait no—that's not—"

"You're kind of cute when you're flustered," you say quietly, looking up at him through your lashes with a smile.

"Let me take you on a date," he says suddenly, like his brains come back online all at once.

"Aren't you in the middle of a playoff push?"

"I'll make time,"

"I'm on nights for the next eight weeks,"

"We'll go for lunch,"

"I'll be asleep,"

"We'll go for breakfast then,"

"I'll be in my scrubs,"

"I'm sure you'll look incredible,"

"You're really adamant about this, aren't you?"

"I don't know what that means, but if it means I really want to take you on a date? Then the answer is yes." He's the mirror image of Katie when she's on a mission to get what she wants, and you know you're going on the date before the affirmation is even out of your mouth.

"Fine. Yes, you can take me on a breakfast date."

And if you thought he was smiling before, now he looked like a kid at christmas.

[devoid-swanky]

Routine

Cale Makar x Reader

Summary: Cale doesn't know how to handle you interrupting his morning routine. [word count: 1k]

Warnings: mature - reference to explicit content | fluff

Author's note: there's a sincere lack of 🥬 x reader so I guess I'm writing what I want to see lol

It was his fault. He kept you up late last night. He couldn't blame you for the way you clung to the pillow, drool pooling on the soft cotton, blanket haphazardly flung across your bare skin, and hair forming a knotty halo around your head. Much like he was last night, this morning he was struck by your beauty, no matter how much of a drooling mess you were. 

Cale sighed to himself, gnawing on his lip as he made himself turn away from you, wondering if he should wait for you to wake up, or simply just make you a warm tea to entice you out of bed. As much as he loves you, it felt like an itch on the inside of his skull as he realised the only way he could make his bed to finalise his morning routine was if you were out of the bed in question.

Every morning, Cale followed a simple yet non-negotiable routine - wake up, eat, wash his dishes, and make his bed. It was not up for debate, or at least, it never had been before. 

Rationally, he knew it would be fine if he didn't make the bed, that your sleep would always be more important, especially if he was the cause of your lack of sleep. And yet, it felt like an effort to get himself out of his bedroom and to his kitchen.

Sipping from his smoothie, Cale breathed deeply and attempted to distract himself by tidying his kitchen bench. There was nothing to clean. Furrowing his brows, he swept his eyes over the living room, free of clutter.

He was home late after his game last night, but you were still there from before he left, from when you and he wrestled, played, and made a mess of the house. When he arrived home, he hadn't noticed that you had tidied everything up in his haste to ravish you in celebration of his win. 

Cale felt his heart swell. He knew that even though you weren't a particularly messy person, you definitely didn't enjoy cleaning in the same way he did. You were comfortable with clutter in a way that he has never been before. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, turning to see you shuffling out from the hallway, wrapped in the comfort of his bedshirt that he didn't actually sleep in last night, with comically fuzzy socks that he was sure would make you slip on the hardwood floors at one point or another. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he cooed affectionately, watching you as you grabbed the blanket from the couch, pulling it over you with a small grumble. You shuffled towards him in the kitchen, bumping your forehead against the hard plains of his chest, sighing contentedly and snuggling a little closer into his warmth.

“G’ mornin’,” you yawned out. He carded his fingers through your messy hair, catching at your chin and lifting so he could meet your gaze. You smiled warmly as he leaned down to kiss you deeply, hungrily, swallowing your little moans that pulsed through his system. He pulled away, knowing that he didn't have time to delve into your flesh this morning and risk being late. 

“Did I wake you?” You shook your head.

“No, my alarm went off. I wanted to make sure I saw you before you left for practice today.” He smiled, and just like it always did when he looked at you like that, your heart skipped a beat. “Have to give you a good luck kiss, don't I?”

“It’s just practice,” his cheeks reddened. For the life of you, you couldn't understand how he could be so shy when you complimented him when he could unravel you shamelessly and without restraint in the container of the bedroom.

“Well, you need practice luck, too.” You kissed him again, shorter this time, before shuffling over to make yourself a tea. “I was thinking I could whip something up for us to eat tonight? Make a little date of it?” 

“Sounds amazing, I'll pick up some wine on the way home,” he nodded, heat blooming in his chest at the ways in which you looked after him. Checking his watch, Cale quickly made his way to the bedroom to make the bed.

“Could you pick up a white wine? I think that'll pair really nicely with what I have in mind.” You called out to him, pretending that you weren't overtly checking out his ass.

“Anything for you, beautiful,” he called back. “Can I grab you anythi-”

He stopped short, looking at the bed. The already made bed, sheets and blankets folded exactly the way he liked it, the corners tucked in all the right ways, the pillows fluffed and placed to perfection, and without a wrinkle in sight. 

“Sorry, what was that?” He distantly heard you respond. Cale was too stunned that you remembered every detail, that you even bothered to do this for him, especially when he knew for a fact you didn't really care to make your own bed back at your apartment. 

You were sipping from your mug when he walked back in the kitchen, removing the mug from your hands and placing it on the counter before he grabbed your face with both hands and pulled your lips in to meet his in the middle. You didn't hesitate to answer him in kind, working your mouth against his with muffled moans of pleasure, gripping his shirt to keep from toppling over from the force of his kiss. Cale's large hands still framed your face as the two of you separated, breathless yet wanting more.

“What was that for?” You puffed out, wishing he never stopped.

“You made the bed.” Cale answered firmly. You cocked an eyebrow in turn.

“Is that all it takes? If I had known sooner, I'd do it every time I sleep over.” He grinned, pressing his lips to your forehead. You shrugged, “I figured it's important to you since it's the first thing you do in the morning.”

“I love you.” Cale's soothing voice whispered over you, lighting you up from the inside out.

“I love you, too.”

[sidneycrosbysprincess]

Fav Sidney Crosby pics (for research purposes definitely)

all of them but I have just a couple laying around yk…

Very specifically this one /\ like that’s dada but yeah…I have just a couple favs

[bnwrittes]

hi, i'd love a zach bolduc fanfic with him and reader having an accidental luggage switch-up at the airport... like they have the exact same luggage and a staff member was in a hurry and accidentally grabbed reader's instead of zach's so now they have to figure out how to switch them back

Same suitcase, Same crush

SUMMARY: A rushed airport staff member accidentally swaps your suitcase with Zach Bolduc’s after a flight, forcing the two of you to reconnect years after growing up together — and years after he quietly never got over his childhood crush.

WC: 2.9k

WARNINGS  fluff, childhood crushes, airport chaos, mild embarrassment, teasing, soft pining, happy ending

Requestes: yes // no

Zach knew something was wrong the second he unzipped his suitcase.

At first, he thought maybe he was just tired. It had been a long travel day — early flight, delayed connection, too many people crowding baggage claim, and a team staff member who had been rushing everyone toward the bus like the airport itself was on fire. Zach had barely looked at his luggage before it had been loaded with the rest of the bags.

Black hard-shell suitcase, silver zipper, tiny scratch near the handle, same as his or, apparently, not his.

Because the second he opened it in his hotel room, instead of finding neatly folded team clothes, extra shoes, and the hoodie he’d thrown in last minute, he was staring at a soft cream sweater, a makeup bag, a book with a bent corner, and something pink and silky that made him immediately slam the suitcase shut like it had burned him “Oh my god,” he muttered.

From the other bed, Kirby looked up. “What?” Zach stared at the suitcase, then at the luggage tag, then back at the suitcase.

His stomach dropped, because hanging from the handle was not his tag, it was yours. Your name, your phone number and beneath it, your hometown.

The same one he had grown up in, for a second, Zach just stood there like an idiot, because there was no way, no actual way.

He hadn’t seen you in years. Not properly, at least. There had been the occasional Instagram story, the odd mutual friend reposting something, the blurry memory of your smile in the background of summer pictures from home. But real life? Face to face? Not since before hockey had fully taken him away.

And now your suitcase was sitting in his hotel room, which meant his suitcase was probably with you, which meant he had your clothes and you had his “Dude,” kirby said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?”

Zach swallowed “I have the wrong suitcase.” Kirby blinked, then grinned. “That’s not great.”

“No,” Zach said, still staring at your name. “It’s really not.”

“Is it some random person’s?” Zach hesitated and that hesitation was all it took, Kirby sat up immediately. “Oh, you know her.”

Zach ran a hand over his face. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“We grew up together.” that wasn’t exactly the full truth, the full truth was that you had lived three streets over from him. That your parents knew his parents. That he had seen you every summer at neighborhood barbecues, every winter at the outdoor rink, every school event where he tried way too hard to act cool whenever you were nearby.

The full truth was that when Zach was thirteen, he used to intentionally miss the first shot during driveway hockey if you were watching because he thought maybe it would make you laugh, the full truth was that at fifteen, when someone asked him who his first real crush was, your name almost came out before he managed to cough and say “nobody.”

The full truth was that you had been his childhood crush, not a small one either a devastating one, the kind that made him forget how to talk when you smiled at him. The kind that made him keep the friendship bracelet you had made him at some summer camp event even after it got too small for his wrist. The kind that never fully went away, even when life got busy and distance turned you into someone he thought about only when he was feeling nostalgic.

Kirby's grin widened. “Oh, this is good.”

“It’s not good,” Zach said quickly.

“It’s a romantic comedy.”

“It’s a luggage mix-up.”

“With a girl you know.”

“With a girl I haven’t talked to in years.”

“Even better.”

Zach ignored him and picked up his phone, typing your number from the tag before he could overthink it, then he stared at the message box.

Hi, I think I have your suitcase.

Too dry.

Hey, this is Zach Bolduc. I think there was a luggage switch-up at the airport.

Too formal.

Hey, this is Zach. I promise I’m not trying to steal your sweaters, but I think we have each other’s suitcase.

He stared at that one for three full seconds before deleting it, horrified at himself, Kirby was now openly watching him. “Are you writing a novel?”

“Shut up.”

Eventually, Zach sent:

Hey, this is Zach Bolduc. I think there was a mix-up at baggage claim. I accidentally ended up with your suitcase. I’m guessing you might have mine?

He pressed send before he lost his nerve, for exactly one minute, nothing happened, then two, then three. Zach tried to act casual about it, but he kept glancing at his phone every few seconds. Kirby snorted from across the room “Real smooth.”

“I’m checking because this is important.”

“Sure.”

Then his phone buzzed, your name popped up.

Zach Bolduc???

His heart did something stupid, then another text came through.

Oh my god. I was literally about to call the airline because I opened my suitcase and found hockey gear.

Zach laughed under his breath, relief loosening his shoulders.

Yeah. That would be mine. Sorry about that.

Your reply came almost instantly.

I was so confused. I thought I was losing my mind because the suitcase looked EXACTLY like mine.

The second he sent it, Zach froze.

Same. I opened it and immediately realized I was not the owner of a cream sweater and pink silk thing.

“Oh no,” he whispered, Kirby looked up again. “What did you do?”

“I mentioned the pink silk thing.”

Kirby burst out laughing, Zach wanted the floor to open and swallow him, your typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Zach held his breath.

Finally, your reply came through.

Zachary Bolduc.

He winced, another message followed.

Please tell me you did not inspect my suitcase.

His face went hot.

I swear I opened it, panicked, and closed it immediately.

You panicked?

It felt like a crime scene.

My pajamas are not a crime scene.

So it was pajamas, that did not help at all, Zach sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Good to know.

Your reply came seconds later.

Do not make this worse for yourself.

He smiled despite himself, there it was, you still had the same sharp humor he remembered. The same ability to make him feel like an awkward teenage boy with one sentence.

I’m trying very hard not to.

How did this even happen?

One of the staff members grabbed it in a hurry. We both have the same suitcase.

Clearly one of us has excellent taste.

Or one of us copied the other.

I had mine first.

Zach grinned.

You don’t know that.

I absolutely do.

He leaned back against the bed frame, phone in hand, suitcase forgotten in front of him, for a moment, it didn’t feel like years had passed. It felt like being sixteen again, standing near the outdoor rink with frozen fingers and red cheeks while you teased him for pretending he wasn’t cold.

Then your next message came.

Where are you staying? I’m at a hotel close to the rink , I have a meeting tomorrow morning, but I can come swap them tonight if you’re close.

Zach sat up immediately, he was close, very close, too close for him to avoid this. Not that he wanted to avoid it, that was the problem.

I’m at the team hotel downtown. I can meet you halfway. You shouldn’t have to bring my giant hockey suitcase around, It is very heavy, Sorry.

What do you even pack in here? Bricks?

some clothes and hockey stuff.

So yes.

Zach laughed again, Kirby looked at him with raised brows “Still just a luggage mix-up?”

Zach threw a pillow at him, they agreed to meet at a small coffee place between both hotels. Zach changed out of his travel sweats into jeans and a jacket, then changed again because suddenly the first shirt felt wrong. Then he stared at himself in the mirror and muttered, “Relax. It’s just a suitcase.”

Kirby made a dramatic coughing noise from behind him “Childhood crush.”

Zach pointed at him. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You coughed it.”

“I have allergies.”

Zach left before he could say anything else, the coffee place was quieter than he expected when he arrived, all warm lighting and soft music. Outside, the evening had turned cold, and people moved quickly down the sidewalk with their collars up and hands tucked into their sleeves.

Zach stood near the entrance with your suitcase beside him, suddenly aware of every single second that passed, then the door opened.

And there you were and for a heartbeat, he forgot how to move.

You looked older, obviously. Not in a way that changed you completely, but in a way that made his memory of you feel softer around the edges. You still had the same eyes. The same smile pulling at your mouth when you spotted him. The same easy confidence that had once made teenage Zach trip over a hockey stick in his own driveway.

You were dragging his suitcase behind you with both hands “Zach?” He smiled before he could stop himself. “Hey.”

You stopped in front of him, looking him up and down in a way that made his ears heat “Wow,” you said. “You got taller.”

He laughed. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I mean, I knew you got taller. I’ve seen pictures. But still.” You tilted your head. “You used to be all elbows.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

“You were just short.”

You gasped, offended, and Zach felt something bright and familiar bloom in his chest “Oh, so this is how we’re starting?” you asked.

“I’m defending myself.”

“You were all elbows and bad hair.”

He put a hand over his chest. “Bad hair?”

“Terrible.”

“I was fifteen.”

“That’s not an excuse.” he shook his head, smiling like an idiot. “Good to see you too.” your teasing expression softened slightly “Yeah,” you said, quieter. “Good to see you.”

For a second, neither of you moved, then you both seemed to remember the reason you were there, you pushed his suitcase forward. “One hockey bag disguised as normal luggage.”

He slid yours toward you. “One definitely-not-a-crime-scene suitcase, your eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky I’m choosing to be forgiving.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You should.”

Zach reached for the handle of his suitcase, but you didn’t immediately take yours. Instead, your gaze dropped to the luggage tag, then back to him “I didn’t know you were flying in today.”

“Yeah, we got in this afternoon.”

“For a game?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow night.”

“That’s cool,” you said, and it sounded genuine. “Really cool, actually, there was something about the way you said it that made him look at you more carefully. “You follow hockey?”

“A little.”

“A little?”

“My dad still talks about you like he personally trained you for the NHL because he gave you one ride to practice when we were kids" Zach laughed, the memory hitting him instantly. “He did save me that day. My mom was stuck at work.”

“He tells everyone.”

“Good. He deserves credit.”

“He also says you were very polite.”

“I was.”

“You were quiet.”

“I was shy.” your smile turned amused. “Around everyone or just me?”

Zach froze, there it was, one casual question and suddenly he was fifteen again, you saw it too. He knew you did, because your smile shifted into something more curious “Zach?”

He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t that shy.”

“You barely looked at me for two years.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is very true. I thought you hated me.”

His head snapped up. “What? No.” you blinked at the suddenness of his answer, he exhaled, laughing a little under his breath. “No, I definitely didn’t hate you.”

Your expression softened, something in the air changed, the coffee shop felt warmer all of a sudden. Smaller. Like the world outside had gone quiet just to listen “You didn’t?” you asked.

Zach looked at you, and he knew he could dodge it. He could laugh. He could say something harmless. He could make this about being awkward as a teenager and move on, but he was older now, not always braver, maybe, but old enough to know that some chances didn’t come back twice “No,” he said. “I had a crush on you.”

Your lips parted slightly, Zach felt his heart hammering against his ribs, then you said, “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You had a crush on me?”

“Pretty bad, actually.”

Your face changed in the most satisfying way, surprise first, then disbelief, then a slow smile that made his stomach flip “Zach Bolduc,” you said softly. “You had a crush on me and your strategy was to avoid eye contact?”

“It was a very advanced strategy.”

“It was terrible.”

“I was nervous.”

“You played hockey in front of hundreds of people.”

“Yeah, but none of them were you.” the words came out before he could stop them, you went quiet, Zach nearly closed his eyes, too much, maybe. Too honest, but then you smiled, smaller this time. Not teasing. Not amused. Something gentler “I had a little crush on you too,” you admitted.

Zach stared at you “No, you didn’t.”

You laughed. “Yes, I did.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You called my hair terrible.”

“It was terrible. That doesn’t mean I didn’t like you.” he was grinning now. He couldn’t help it. “This is unbelievable.”

“You were cute,” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t currently rewriting his entire teenage history. “And you were sweet. And you always helped me tie my skates when my fingers got too cold.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I remember that.”

Zach’s smile softened, he remembered too, he remembered pretending not to notice how close you were. He remembered kneeling in the snow, fumbling with your laces while you complained about the cold. He remembered wanting to hold your hand afterward but shoving his own into his jacket pockets instead.

“All these years,” he said, shaking his head.

“All these years,” you echoed, then your phone buzzed in your coat pocket. You glanced down, and reality seemed to return around both of you.

“I should probably get back,” you said reluctantly. “Early meeting.”

“Yeah. Of course.” neither of you moved, your suitcase stood between you like the world’s strangest matchmaker, Zach looked at you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

He smiled. “Do you want to get coffee? Not luggage exchange coffee. Actual coffee.”

Your eyes flickered to the café around you “We’re already in a coffee shop.”

“Okay, smartass. I mean another time.”

You looked pleased with yourself. “Another time?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Maybe after the game tomorrow? Or whenever you’re free. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” you repeated, but your smile gave you away, Zach waited, trying not to look as hopeful as he felt, finally, you said, “I’m free after the game.”

His chest warmed “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pulled your suitcase closer. “But only if you promise not to steal my luggage again.”

“I didn’t steal it the first time.”

“That’s exactly what a suitcase thief would say.”

“I’m a victim here too.”

“You had my pajamas.”

“For thirty traumatic seconds.” You laughed, and Zach decided right then that he wanted to hear that sound again. Often, if possible.

“I’ll see you tomorrow”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You turned to leave, pulling your suitcase behind you, but after a few steps, you looked back “Oh, and Zach?”

“Yeah?”

Your smile turned teasing again “Your hair got better.”

He laughed, shaking his head as you walked out into the cold evening, the next morning, when Zach opened his actual suitcase and found all his own clothes exactly where they should be, he also found something else tucked between his hoodie and a pair of socks.

A small note, written on hotel stationery.

if the owner of this suitcase its the Zach Bolduc i think, I always thought the shy thing was cute.

Zach stared at it for a long moment, then he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, Kirby noticed immediately “What now?”

Zach folded the note carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie“Nothing.” Kirby narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

Zach zipped up his suitcase, still smiling, maybe he was, but for once, he didn’t care, because one rushed airport staff member, two identical suitcases, and years of bad timing had somehow managed to do what Zach never had the courage to do as a kid.

Bring him back to you.

[kaiawrites]

inhaling everything zack bolduc all day everyday🙏 this was cute as hell oml😭

[puck-luck]

mission: impossible (to resist) | cole caufield

warnings: dry humping until cc finishes, fingering and munching until reader does ;) pairing: cole caufield x fem!reader request: "Maybe fluff into smut…movie night and him looking so domesticated just hits diff and out of no where you just initiate it and he’s caught off guard but obvi doesn’t fight it" wc: 2,293

Cole’s hand runs along your back in a practiced motion. Up... down... up... down. His fingers drag lazily over the subtle ridges of your spine and the planes of your shoulder blades. His heart thumps in the double-time rhythm; a strong pat-pat for each up and each down. If you don’t keep your attention on the movie, then you’ll fall asleep right here, and your deadweight will be impossible to move.

Well, Cole’s strong. He’d find a way.

Your hand moves to curl around his bicep. He holds the remote with this hand, arm dangling partially off the couch. The smooth skin of his inner arm calls to you, your thumb finding the vulnerable vein that pops away from his skin. You can almost feel the blood running through it and even in the dark with the television glowing all different colors from scene to scene, you can see the light blue tint of the vein against his pale skin. You trace the flowing line, mimicking the pace of his back rubs.

Cole’s lips lift into a smile. You’re aware of it, even with your head on his chest and face turned toward the television. He kisses the top of your head and halts his movements, bringing his hand to the small of your back and resting it there.

You whine at the loss and turn to look at him, resting your chin between his pecs. You’re laying atop him, like you often do on movie night. You’re not sure how or when the position became your go-to, but Cole always reclines back on the pillows and beckons you forward, encouraging and sometimes imploring you to crawl into his space.

He’s shirtless today, firm muscle radiating heat. His favorite black joggers hug his thighs and his crotch, creating a delicious picture that you couldn't help but invade. He looks good enough to eat – instead, you’ve decided to cuddle. You’re in a cotton pajama set with cartoon blue whales dotting the white background.

“Such a diva,” Cole teases. “I stop rubbing your back for two seconds and you get all pouty?”

“You’re the exact same,” you say, returning your head to its place on his sternum. “You squish me in bed if I stop spooning you.”

Cole laughs quietly. “I’m just rolling over.”

“That’s what you say every time,” you grumble, then press your lips to Cole’s chest so he knows you’re playing around. You don’t mind when he crushes you in bed because he’ll pepper your face with kisses until you’re squealing and wiggling away. Then, he’ll kiss down your neck and dig his fingers into your side until you wheeze with laughter. Sometimes, you stop spooning him just to get that treatment.

The movie playing on the TV is some action flick, Cole’s choice this week, and the loud sounds emanating from the speakers are distracting more than anything. You don’t know how you’re supposed fall asleep after watching fight scenes and explosions and gunshots, so you turn your head away from the television and shift, tucking your face into Cole's neck and inhaling his natural musk.

He starts to rub your back again, raising goosebumps on your arms and sending shivers throughout your body. You feel tingly, fuzzy almost. His touch is soothing and soft, just like his presence in your life. You’re so comfortable with Cole, in love with his bright smile and deep dimples and carefree attitude. He’s so go-with-the-flow that it combats your need for routine and makes you more easygoing. Cole benefits too – your planning keeps him in line for the fun things in life, like date nights and grocery trips.

You hum against his pulse, pursing your lips and leaving a lingering kiss on the thick column of Cole’s throat. His chest rises with a breath and you press another onto his skin, opening your mouth and gently sucking a mark beneath his jawline. Your eyes are closed, breathing even.

You’re not marking Cole to excite him. That’s just a fun perk.

As small hickeys blossom over Cole’s skin, his hand grows heavier on your back. His touches are loaded, as are your kisses, and your next kiss falls on his lips.

With the movie forgotten, your mouth slots against Cole’s over and over. He tastes like your dinner, a protein-heavy taco bowl, but you chase the taste instead of pulling away. Cole chuckles as your tongue dives into his mouth, taking control. He places his hands on your hips and leaves them there, abandoning the remote on the side table. Your palms go flat on his collarbone and cradle his face respectively.

His smile quirks and you lap at his soft flesh, gently nibbling his bottom lip.

“Needy,” Cole whispers between kisses.

“Bothered?” you ask, a wet smack echoing between you.

“Never.”

Cole helps you change position, your knees now bracketing his hips and his bulge prominently resting beneath your wanting core. You bend at the waist, unwilling to part with Cole’s talented tongue for even a second.

His grip guides your bottom half, as your touch maneuvers his head.

It's the same motion: up, down. Up, down. Up... and down.

Cole shudders beneath you and you realize what he’s doing – pulling your hips over his cock, stimulating himself through your clothes, a warmth building between your bodies.

His cock has swelled, impressive for his size and mouth-watering when bared before your face. It seeks your wet hole like a moth to a flame, even with multiple layers separating the two. 

You part from him momentarily, threading his wavy hair through your fingers. You scratch Cole’s scalp, seeing his eyelashes flutter from enjoyment and head tip back. Smiling, you roll your hips. 

“Shit, babe,” he murmurs, seemingly torn between increasing your pace and halting you entirely. His fingertips bore into your sides. “What’s gotten into you?”

You exchange a kiss. “Nothing, really,” you reply. “Wanna see my pretty boy come in his pants.”

Cole’s eyebrows lift to his hairline.

You laugh, erasing his shock with a few languid licks into his mouth. Once Cole is pliant beneath you, hands sliding to grasp your behind and tug you closer, you begin to move again. You kiss him with your whole body, your beings intertwining from sheer proximity. Cole groans into your mouth and you rock into him, your wetness seeping into your panties and his natural urge for more, more, more manifesting in small blurts of precum that dampen the front of his joggers. 

You rock against each other, giving and taking and kissing all the time. The space between your legs is full, Cole’s friction satisfying but far from enough.

At least... for you.

Cole makes a guttural noise, one that plants deep in your chest and roots itself. You pull back and kiss down his neck, leaving a wet trail as far as you can reach. He throws his head back and bucks his hips. You bounce in place, biting your bottom lip to keep from whimpering as his cock nudges your clit.

“You gonna make a mess, baby?” you tease, running a light hand over Cole’s chest. You brush his left nipple with your right hand, flicking over the bud with your thumbnail. “Y’feel so good you’re going to come in your pants, make ‘em all white and wet for me?”

“Motherfucker.” Cole shivers and squeezes his eyes shut, front teeth visibly biting down to steel himself.

You emulate his own go-to move, fishing his lip free and soothing it with a sweet kiss. Your grinding is downright dirty, juxtaposing the pace between yours and Cole’s mouths. He can't decide which sensation to dive into – he switches between kissing you feverishly and letting you move your hips freely, and mouthing uselessly against your lips, jaw, and neck while his lower half dominates the moment. Whimpering when Cole's shaft nestles in your slit, running from your hole to your clit and back again, he shoves his hands beneath your pajama bottoms to get flesh on flesh.

Cole drags you forward once, twice, three times, and on the fourth, a new wetness spreads between your bodies. You both moan at the same time at the same pitch, with Cole pursuing his climax and the aftershocks and you aiming to join him.

He’s hyper-sensitive after coming, always is. You gyrate against his cock as long as he’ll let you, only stopping when he keens against you and pinches your hips like a nonverbal warning.

You pout slightly, so close to your orgasm but delayed by Cole’s discomfort.

He apologizes with a kiss. “Sorry,” Cole mumbles, massaging your side with his dexterous fingers. “Here, baby, lay down. Make it even, yeah?”

You switch places with him, laying your head on a pillow and accepting Cole’s weight between your legs. You’re braless beneath your pj set and Cole takes advantage of your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between the pads of his thumbs and forefingers. You arch into him, relenting to his insistent tongue and lips, and go to wrap your legs around his waist. Cole stops you.

“Spread ‘em,” he instructs, an easy smile brightening his face. He’s got a post-nut glow around him, giddiness touching his features. It makes you want to giggle, the pairing of the twinkle in his eye and the rapidly drying stain on the front of his favorite pair of athleisure-wear.

You grin and kick your legs out wide, ankle hooking over the back of the sofa. You’re still in your pajama shorts and panties, but they're loose enough that Cole simply pulls them to the side and dips his middle finger into your cunt, sheathing his digit past his second knuckle.

He pumps it steadily from the get-go, a mirthful smirk transforming his expression into something more evaluating, examining. Cole watches your reaction carefully, cataloguing each contortion and flexed muscle.

You run your fingers over your neck sensually, then eye Cole.

He shakes his head knowingly. You frown in an exaggerated, clownish way, but Cole guffaws quietly. He reaches out and fiddles with the top button on your pajama top, unfastening it and spreading the cotton so he can see the expanse of your collarbones. He pulls away and places his free hand on your knee by his side.

A flush creeps over your cheeks and neck, squirming at his intense attention.

Cole looks you up and down, quirking an eyebrow.

Wordlessly, you understand his desire and unbutton the rest of the buttons on your top. You spread the shirt panels until your chest is completely bare, Cole’s pupils dilating when he makes eye contact with your tits. You cup the warm flesh in your hands and knead your skin, paying extra attention to your sensitive nipples and putting on a show for your boyfriend.

To make things even, to torture you as much as you're torturing him, Cole adds another finger to your heat and rubs circles over your clit with his thumb.

You sigh, allowing your eyelids to drift shut, and pinch your pebbled buds. You can see, in your mind's eye, Cole’s arm veins bulging and muscles flexing as his fingers wiggle over your sweet spot. His heavy gaze weighs on you. You’re intimately aware of Cole: his thick digits inside you, his gentle caress over your inner thigh, his presence between your legs.

“Such a pretty girl,” Cole breathes reverently. “All mine, huh?”

You blink and look at him through your lashes. Your line-of-sight flickers to the mess on the front of his pants, then back up. You cock your head to the side and deadpan, “Says the boy who came from a little dry humping.”

He laughs, but you continue.

“I mean, honestly, Cole–” You jolt when he probes your g-spot, rubbing it insistently. “I’m all yours, but I haven’t even come?”

Cole leans down and shuts you up with a kiss, moving to suck a matching hickey over your carotid. He shuffles back on his knees, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He licks over it eagerly before abandoning it to go even lower. His lips grace your ribs, your stomach, your abdomen, and your hip prior to fastening around your clit and slurping it into his mouth.

His tongue swirls over the moist bundle of nerves, suction pulling you to orgasm like a lasso around your neck. You writhe on the couch, fisting Cole’s golden waves until he releases a strangled moan and shoves a third finger into your cunt, curling all three and pulsing them against the spongy spot that always makes you unravel.

“Fuck,” you squeak in a high voice, legs shaking and trying to close around Cole’s head. The corners of his lips lift in a smile and he continues suckling, pumping his fingers through your aftershocks before drawing them from your wetness and wiping them on the fabric of your pajama bottoms.

“Payback,” he chuckles before wrapping his lips around your clit again and giving it one final suck, just to hear you squeal from over sensitivity. He covers your spent pussy with your panties and bottoms and crawls up your body, laying atop you how you laid on his chest.

The credits of the movie started scrolling minutes ago. You missed the final act completely, but you can’t find it in yourself to rewind and watch it back. Cole can’t either, it seems.

He wraps his arms around your middle and kisses each of your breasts before laying his head on the swell of them like a pillow.

“You’re crushing me,” you faux-complain.

Cole sighs loudly, pushing himself up so he can start attacking your face with his lips.

You laugh and turn your head away, but your hands are still in his hair to keep him close.

[b0nkcreat]

eyes emoji was the perfect invention for nosy people. like 👀 whats going on over here 👀👀 i just wanna know #LetMeKnow 👀👀👀

[madmonksandmaenads]

I wish I could make white people(and not just white Americans) understand how diverse the pre-columbian Americas were. The history, religion, culture, politics was at least as complex as Europe's. There was the full gamut of religions, from monotheists to animists to ancestral religions. There were city building empires, village farmers, nomadic traders, and so many other ways to live. This is all just based on what we know, the fragments left behind and the stories of survivors of an apocalyptic plague. All this before the most extended campaign of genocide in history was waged in an attempt to wipe out those survivors.

Over 500 years spent trying to cut down a whole trunk of human culture.

Do you understand how much poorer our whole species is because of it? Can you imagine where art, religion, and science would be if we still had these vast bodies of knowledge? The stain of the colonial project will never be fully washed clean. We owe more than just the land to those we stole from. We owe them a whole future, a future that could have been brighter for all of us. If only greed and fear weren't allowed to rule this land.

[nyxx-forever]

Not to be dramatic but I will kill myself if they get rid of Arber

[andy-15-07]

Engaged & Long Distance

Pairing: Evgeni Malkin x Reader

Word Count: 798

Request open!

Sidney Crosby Masterlist | Hockey Masterlist

The call connects on the third ring.

Your phone is propped against your pillow, the room dark except for the soft glow of the screen. You’re already half-buried under blankets, hair messy, wearing one of his old hoodies,the one that still smells faintly like his cologne and laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you murmur.

Evgeni appears on the screen, still in the car, streetlights sliding past the window behind him. His hair is damp, face flushed from the cold and the game.

“There you are,” he says, smiling tiredly. “You still awake?”

“Barely,” you admit. “What time is it for you?”

He checks the dashboard clock. “Almost one.”

“And you just finished media,” you sigh. “I told you you didn’t have to call.”

“I want to call,” he corrects gently. “Always.”

Your chest warms at that, even as exhaustion tugs at your eyelids.

“How was the game?” you ask.

He shrugs, a familiar motion. “We win. But I miss open net. Coach not happy.”

“You still had an assist,” you remind him. “And you played almost twenty minutes.”

He smirks. “You sound like you watch game.”

“I did,” you say. “I always do.”

His expression softens instantly. “I know.”

The car stops. He grabs his bag and heads inside the hotel, phone bouncing slightly with each step.

“You’re freezing,” you say, noticing the way his shoulders tense.

“Is fine,” he says. “I shower, then bed.”

You yawn, unable to stop it. “I should probably let you go.”

“No,” he says quickly. “Stay. Even if you sleep.”

“You sure?”

“I like seeing you,” he says simply.

You smile, adjusting the phone so he can see more of your face. “Okay. But I might pass out.”

“That is okay,” he says. “I talk enough for both of us.”

By the time he’s in his hotel room, your eyes are already drifting closed. He tosses his bag aside, sits on the bed, and loosens his tie.

“You still with me?” he asks quietly.

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes shut. “Just listening.”

He watches you through the screen,the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips part slightly as sleep creeps in.

“You look tired,” he murmurs.

“I miss you,” you whisper, voice barely there.

His jaw tightens. “I miss you too, moya lyubov’.”

You smile faintly at the nickname, already half-asleep.

“Wedding planning update,” you mumble. “My mom wants more guests.”

He groans softly. “Again?”

“I told you,” you yawn. “Big family.”

“I marry you,” he says. “Not whole city.”

You laugh quietly, then sigh. “I wish you were here.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he lowers his voice, softer, slower,like he’s talking to himself.

“Soon,” he says. “This road trips, hotels… they end. Then I come home every night.”

You don’t respond.

Your breathing evens out, slow and deep.

Evgeni realizes it a moment later.

He smiles.

“Y/N?” he whispers.

No answer.

He shifts on the bed, careful not to make noise, phone still propped up. His voice drops even further, slipping into Russian without thinking.

“Zasypay, solnyshko,” he murmurs. Go to sleep, sunshine.

He watches your sleeping face, thumb brushing absently over the screen like he could touch you through it.

“Ty takaya krasyvaya,” he continues softly. You’re so beautiful.

He exhales, something heavy leaving his chest.

“Sometimes I think you hear me,” he says quietly, still in Russian. “But maybe is okay if you don’t.”

He leans back against the headboard, eyes tired but gentle.

“I hate being away from you,” he admits in a whisper. “I play hockey, I smile, I answer questions… but bed is empty. Phone is only thing.”

He glances at the ring on his own hand,the one matching yours.

“I promise you,” he says, voice rough. “This distance is temporary. Marriage is forever.”

Your brow twitches slightly in your sleep.

Evgeni freezes.

“…You awake?” he asks carefully.

Nothing.

He exhales a shaky laugh.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Then I can say everything.”

He lowers his head, voice barely audible.

“I am scared sometimes,” he admits. “Scared I am not enough. That hockey take too much from us.”

He looks back at you, sleeping peacefully.

“But then I see you like this… and I know. I choose you every time.”

He swallows.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he whispers. I love you.

Your lips part.

“Love you too,” you murmur sleepily.

Evgeni’s eyes widen.

“…You hear that?” he asks softly.

You don’t answer. You’re already drifting deeper into sleep.

A slow smile spreads across his face, equal parts fond and emotional.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Maybe you hear more than I think.”

He shifts the phone slightly, making sure it won’t fall.

“Sleep well,” he says softly. “I stay here.”

And he does,watching you sleep, phone glowing in the dark, distance shrinking just a little until morning.

[xreader1989]

Saw your comment on the Geno x reader post… your work is amazing!

Can I request a Geno x reader co parenting fic where he wants her back and she’s playing hard to get but in the end they get back together with their little family (the kid doesn’t have to be his actual kid, how about a little girl or something )

Thank youuuuu

U + ME = <3

Geno Malkin x fem!reader

Word count: 3.2k Masterlist

This started as a blurb and I got a little carried away so I hope there’s a crowd out there for this! Thank you for the request and sorry I strayed a little from it I just got excited while writing it ❤️

The lake house always smells the same. It smells musky and earthy, like most lake houses tend to. But it also always smells like the coffee beans you had grown addicted to when you had first started seeing Geno all those years ago. And like the detergent you had made him start using instead of the generic brand.

You were together for nearly ten years when you called it off. It was far from an easy decision, but after having your daughter, you felt pushed to the side more than ever. It might sound selfish, but you were always second to hockey. And when your daughter came along, he continued to put you both second. You told him your family wasn’t seasonal, and that if he couldn’t put you first, you would leave.

So five years ago, you moved into your own place, you worked out an amicable schedule that worked with his season and your daughter’s schedule, and you have been going through the motions ever since.

Nearly every year, Geno asked if you wanted to try again. It was always around this time of year, when your daughter turned another year older.

Whether it be the emotion, or the reminiscence, he always asked, “what if we tried again Malyshka?”

And you would smile at him sweetly, or laugh it off, but you never let yourself give in. You never let yourself take it too seriously.

You never really bothered dating, as it never sounded like something you wanted to do again, especially with your complicated family dynamic.

A few weeks ago, when you asked your daughter what she wanted for her birthday, she had said the whole family at the lakehouse. You nearly cringed when she said the lakehouse, you hadn’t been as a family in a long long time.

But that’s how you found yourself here, at the lakehouse, which was a generous term for the beautiful home nestled in between the trees and mountains of Pennsylvania.

It shouldn't feel like home anymore, you had barely been since you separated five years ago. It was his long before it was yours, and you hated feeling like you were impeding on his vacation time.

But somehow, every time you step onto the wraparound porch, it still does.

You tell yourself it’s because you had so many beautiful memories with family and friends there. Late nights, drinks, fires, s’mores, swimming, the list goes on and on. But you know deep down it’s because he is there.

But you push the thought aside, and tell yourself it’s because your daughter is racing down the dock in a bright pink life jacket, shrieking at the top of her lungs because Uncle Sid promised they could race before they jumped in together.

"Uncle Sid! Wait for me!" She yells with both arms above her head as she laughs.

"I am waiting!" Sidney calls back, laughing as she nearly tackles him from behind.

Evgeni stands beside you with an old coffee mug in hand. It was one you had picked out for him almost seven years ago. It had a chip on it, and the words that said #1 DAD were almost completely faded.

"She cheats," he says with a completely straight face.

You roll your eyes and glance over at him, "she's ten."

"Exactly,” he says in his thick accent.

Despite the situation, you laugh and his grin appears instantly.

It's the same one that made you fall in love all those years ago, and it’s the same one that somehow still undoes you now.

For a second, you enjoy the silence and hold his gaze. His stare was more intense then you expected, but it didn’t scare you, in fact you liked the way it made a chill run down your spine like someone had slipped an ice cube down your tshirt.

Just as Geno opens his mouth to speak, your daughter spins around and squeals, "ew!"

You both jump with wide eyes, as if you were caught kissing behind the bleachers.

"What?" You ask innocently, hoping no one notices the heat crawling up your chest to your cheeks.

"You guys are doing the staring thing again,” she groans in annoyance.

"We were not doing anything staring related,” you quip back.

"You were,” she says as she points dramatically between her parents, “that's, like, your thing." She huffed dramatically, the way all nine-soon-to-be-ten-year-olds seemed to do.

Sidney looks over his shoulder and then back at his goddaughter, "...The staring thing?"

"Oh yeah," she says matter-of-factly. "Whenever mommy and daddy are together, I always catch them. When mommy drops me off at daddy’s and then he makes her coffee. Or sometimes at my soccer games—”

Evgeni clears his throat, interrupting her, "I think fish is waiting in lake.” He motions vaguely to the water.

Sidney smirks back at his best friend before grabbing your daughter’s hand and jumping off the dock.

Hours later, you were finally able to corral your daughter into the bath and pajamas. She put up a fight, but not the whiny, tantrum kind, the I’m having way too much fun even though I could fall asleep at any moment kind.

“Mommy?”

You turned and looked at her from where she was slipping her pajamas on.

“Can you and Daddy tuck me in together tonight?” She said it so sweetly your heart melted, “since we’re all having a sleepover?”

You smiled down at her, “I’ll tell you what, go say goodnight to Uncle Sid, and then get Daddy on your way back, yeah?”

Her grin grew from ear to ear, although her heavy eye lids were exposing just how tired she was.

When she came back moments later, her stuffed bunny was clutched tightly to her chest, and her other hand was dragging Geno behind her.

You smiled up at him and met his eyes.

Your daughter climbed into bed and you both leaned down to give her a kiss as she got comfortable.

“Birthday princess tomorrow, yeah?” Geno said softly, his tone strictly reserved for his little girl.

She nodded sleepily.

“Tomorrow is the big day, everyone will be here, so you have to get a good night's sleep love bug,” you said quietly, pushing her hair back.

She mumbled good nights as you turned the lamp off and followed Geno back into the kitchen.

Sid was pouring himself a glass of water, “well she totally wiped me out. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

He made his way down the hall to his assigned room in the lakehouse, and you realized it was just you and Geno.

“You tired?” He asked from the other side of the kitchen island.

You shook your head in response.

“I got that fruity wine you like so much,” he scrunched his nose, “I pour it.”

Before you could say no, the glass was in front of you, “thank you, G.”

He smiled, opening a beer for himself.

“Can you believe she’s ten?” You said as you sipped the light wine, letting it tingle down your throat and go straight to your head.

He let out a chuckle, “no, I remember when we brought her home.”

You smiled down at your glass, you remembered too. The exhaustion and the nerves were overwhelming, but they were all dulled by the unrequited love you felt.

“You’ve made real changes, G. I just want you to know that I’ve seen all the effort for her, and I hate that we had to be apart for you to find it in you. But I’m glad it worked, for the sake of our girl,” you let the admission tumble out of you. Because you had watched him grow for the last five years into the man you always knew he could be.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “I’m glad too, Malyshka,” he said it quietly, as if he didn’t trust his voice, “you two are everything to me.”

Are. You two are. You focused on the word, let your mind spiral around it for a bit.

It was much different than his usual comedic armor he wore. Your heart fluttered at the nickname, it always did. After all these years you never quite got out of the hold he had on you.

Your friends would say it’s because you wouldn’t let yourself be freed. And as you sat here and let him pour you a second glass, you thought maybe they were right. And for the first time, you didn’t care.

He finished his beer and sighed, “I’m going to bed, tomorrow is big day.”

He squeezed your shoulder, holding your gaze for a second longer than he needed to. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, G.” You said quietly, taking another sip of your wine as he retreated to his room, the room that used to be both of yours.

Maybe he left you sitting here because he knew he wouldn’t last another second without kissing you. At least that’s what you told yourself tofeel better about still having feelings for a man you left five years ago.

The next morning came in like lightning. You wished you hadn’t finished the bottle of wine after Geno left you in the kitchen, but you needed something to focus on after he left you in complete disarray. Now your head pounded as you hung streamers from the ceiling and Sid tied balloons outside.

Geno placed the table cloth down, meticulously placing the desserts exactly how you asked him to.

There was a time where you couldn’t even get him to put his shoes away, now he was placing cupcakes in the shape of a one and zero like they were made of glass.

The bar was low huh? Or were you just finally admitting to yourself that you still loved him?

You shook your head, today was not about you.

Your daughter twirled around in her dress that hung over her swimsuit as she waited for everyone to arrive.

You smiled as Geno took her hand and spun her in a circle, “the most beautiful birthday princess in the world!”

She nearly exploded at the praise, smiling and giggling up at her dad.

The birthday party is exactly what she'd wanted.

All her family and friends were there, swimming, a bonfire, cake, more presents than she ever needed, and you let her not reapplying her sunscreen every two hours slide just for today.

Somehow, in the middle of all of it, you end up standing beside Evgeni more often than not.

He hands you drinks before you even realize you need one, as you’re in full hosting swing. He’s hovering beside you to assist you in anything you need, more drinks, adjust the umbrella, he’s orbiting around you like you’re the sun.

You remind him to put on sunscreen because he never remembers, and he’s too old not to reapply, especially on his nose.

You finish each other's sentences as your recounting stories with family members you haven’t seen in years.

You let yourself smile at how natural it feels to have him in your space, and for you to be in his. You hide your face as his hand sprawls across your lower back without even noticing.

What you don’t know is that Sidney notices… and your daughter definitely notices.

But, neither of you notice them noticing.

Later that evening, once family has dispersed and most of the mess has been cleaned up, she disappears.

"Love bug?" You call out.

Nothing.

"Sweetheart?" You try again.

Still nothing. Evgeni appears beside you, also looking for her.

"She with Sid?" He asks.

"I don't know,” you say with a shrug.

For exactly forty-three seconds, you feel the panic. And you sense that Geno feels it too.

Then Sidney walks around the corner carrying two fishing poles. "Oh, hey,” he says far too casually.

"Where is she?" both of you ask in unison.

He blinks, “probably down by the boathouse.”

"What?" You ask, confused.

"She said she wanted to… set something up,” he says, clearly choosing his words carefully.

"Set what up?" Geno asked.

Sidney suddenly finds the clouds fascinating, "you know."

"No," you say, "I actually don't."

You and Geno exchanged a glance before heading down the vast expanse of the backyard. You make it to the boathouse and carefully step in.

The door swings shut behind you.

Click.

Then above you, twinkle lights messily hung light up as if on queue. Or as if someone beyond this little boat house is holding the remote.

There are two juice boxes on a small blanket and a single flower in a cup in the middle of it.

You spin around, reaching for the latch. The door was locked, or barricaded from the other side. "Seriously?" You mutter

From the other side comes unmistakable giggling, "I learned this from a movie!" Your daughter announces proudly.

Evgeni pinches the bridge of his nose, “Sidney."

"I didn't lock it!" He defended from the other side of the door.

"You helped!" You yelled back.

"I supported the operation," he yelled back, “she pulled the birthday card.”

You hear your daughter gasp, "Uncle Sid! You're not supposed to tell them!”

"I'm cracking under the pressure, I’m not strong like you,” he whisper-yelled back.

You imagine the disappointed look on her face, and you can't help it, you start laughing. You make eye contact with Geno and that makes him crack too. Soon you’re both laughing so hard you're leaning against the old wooden wall.

"I cannot believe..." I manage between breaths.

"Our daughter..." he says.

"...Parent trapped us,” you finished.

He nods, "very smart girl we have,” he says through the laughter.

"Unfortunately,” you say with a sigh.

Silence settles, but it’s comfortable. He looks over at you like he always does.

"I miss this,” he says quietly.

Your smile fades, "so do I."

"The laughing,” he continues, “it was always so easy with you.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

"The talking,” he adds, “comes so natural and fun.”

"I know,” you say softly,

"You,” he pauses.

Your heart aches.

"I never stopped loving you,” the words escape before you can stop them. You’re not even sure where they came from. Deep in the pit of your heart where you have had them buried for five years. Where they haven’t reached the surface until this very weekend, when you let your guard down.

His eyes close for a second, "I know."

You furrow your brow at him. "You know?"

"I never stop loving you either,” his accent gets thicker whenever he's emotional, “I was angry."

"So was I,” you say, trying to keep the lump in your throat down and the tears in your eyes back.

"We are stupid, no?” He says.

You laugh through unexpected tears, "god, we are so stupid."

He takes one careful step closer, "so many years.”

“I think about calling you almost every day and I almost did a few times,” you admit.

"So why not?" He asked, taking another careful step towards him, until there is very little space left keeping you apart.

You shrug helplessly, "I thought you'd moved on. That it was better this way.”

He actually looked offended. "How?"

"I don't know,” you said simply, shaking your head.

"You only are the only woman,” he says firmly.

The tears spill over, "G..."

He reaches for your hand so slowly that you have every opportunity to pull away.

"I still love you,” he says.

"I still love you too,” you hold his gaze, letting the tears fall slowly down your cheeks.

Outside, you hear some not so subtle whispering.

"Do it," our daughter hisses.

"I'm not telling your father to kiss your mom," Sidney whispers back.

"Chicken,” she throws at him.

"I'm thirty-eight—"

"Chicken!" She doubles down.

Evgeni laughs softly, "they terrible spies."

"The worst,” you say in agreement.

He brushes his thumb across your cheek. "Can I kiss you?"

Instead of answering, you close the distance, not wanting to waste another second.

His lips are familiar and warm in the best way. It feels like coming home after wandering for years. The kiss is slow, like you're afraid you’ll scare a fleeting moment away. His hands move to your waist, holding you impossibly close. Your hands naturally find his chest for balance.

When you finally separate, the door bursts open.

"WOOOO!" Your daughter throws both arms into the air. "It worked!" She chants around the boat house.

Sidney follows behind her, looking only mildly embarrassed, "I'd just like the record to show this was entirely her idea."

"It was our idea," she corrects.

"You recruited me,” he narrows his eyes at her.

"I did,” she says with pride.

Sidney sighs dramatically.

Evgeni shakes his head, "you both crazy."

She runs straight towards you both, stopping at your feet and craning her neck to look up at you both.

Geno's hand is still tentatively on your waist, while yours rest on his chest.

"So..." She looks between you expectantly.

"...Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

You choke on your own laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder as you both look down at her.

Evgeni answers before you can, "I hope."

You look up at him, "you hope?"

He turns fully toward you again, “no, I know.”

He reaches into his pocket, for a moment you panic, but he just pulls out your old house key. The one you had left on the counter five years ago when you moved into your own apartment.

“I never change locks,” he shrugs.

You stare at the key resting in his palm.

His voice is barely above a whisper, “house hasn’t felt right in five years.”

Your chest tightens.

"I keep thinking," he says, "maybe one day you come home."

You don't trust yourself to speak.

"So..." He takes a breath, "come back."

You blink.

“Move back into our house,” he looks at you, then your little girl, who is smiling so bright you know her cheeks are going to hurt later

He squeezes your hand, “not because we have daughter.”

“Hey,” she says, slightly offended, making you laugh wetly.

He smiles, that same impossibly soft smile that stole my heart years ago, "because I love you."

"I love you too,” you say quickly, like the words came out before your brain caught you.

"We start over,” he says, nudging the key towards you again.

You look out at the lake through the door behind Sid, who was leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face.

You look at the porch where you spent countless summer evenings and the dock where you'd dreamt about the future before life got in the way. And you look at the dock where you told Geno you were pregnant.

Then you look at your daughter, who is trying—and failing—not to bounce with excitement.

Sidney catches your eye and quietly gives you a tiny thumbs-up.

Then, you finally look back at Evgeni, "I'd like that."

His smile breaks into something brighter than I've seen in years.

"Really?"

"Really."

Before you know it, he's wrapped you in a hug so tight your feet nearly leave the floor.

Your daughter lets out the loudest cheer imaginable, “MOMMY AND DADDY ARE IN LOVE!"

Evgeni kisses the top of your head. He pulls back just enough to look at you.

"Now,” he smiles, "we finally get a second chance."

And standing in the old boathouse, with your daughter grinning between you and Sidney pretending he definitely wasn't wiping away a tear, you realize you could finally come home.

Tags (all): @ilocuras24 @nyxmoretti @kmc1989 @destinyg237

[sidneycrosbysprincess]

Sidney Crosby x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, a bit suggestive, use of pet names?

Authors Note: I gotchu @dickiesbunny

[malkinhamilton]

Boyfriend texts with evgeni malkin

Warnings: sex implied, age gap implied, drinking implied

Tell me any feedback or anything you think I could do different!