hi all! this is reposted writing from my main blog @cale-makar, I moved everything onto this blog for organizational purposes
at the end of the list you’ll find some info about my current works in progress
Tyson Jost
snow - your car doesn’t start and Tyson, your neighbor, gives you a ride (540 words)
part two - A winter power outage brings an invite into your neighbor, Tyson’s, bed (1.7k)
Nathan MacKinnon
buzzer beater - (1.8k)
Cale Makar
all I need | part two - you fall for Cale Makar, but keeping it hidden from your brother, Ryan Graves, is harder than it looks (5.7k)
Current WIPs
free skate - in your journey to becoming the world's best female figure skater, you meet Alex Newhook, the kind, slightly silly hockey player for the Colorado Avalanche (moodboard 1 2)
for @joelsfarabees <33333 happy birthday love!!!! I didn't get the scene that I wanted to share for your birthday written but here's a small bit of something else!
Despite the burn in your legs, you skate to the door where the boys are waiting. Bo reaches down to open the door as you come to a stop. Your cheeks hurt from smiling as you meet Alex for a bone-crushing hug. Your arms grasp around his neck. His right arm wraps tightly around your waist, and his left hand brushes up your neck to rest under your low bun.
Your skates touch the ground again after a few blissful seconds. “I forgot what day it was!” your voice shakes with excitement, and his hand comes up to brush away the stray hairs framing your face.
“He made us get here early; he was so excited to see you,” Bo’s smirk is obvious in his voice from beside the pair of you.
“You’re the one who didn’t want to drive himself,” Alex retorts. Your chest warms just from being back with your boys. You tear your eyes away to look at Bo. Stepping away from Alex, you pull him down into a hug.
“You don’t have to say it,” you tease. “I know you wanted to see me, too.” He laughs and tugs at your hair.
The three of you spend the next few minutes chatting and making plans for dinner. Bo’s in the middle of an embarrassing golfing story when the door from the hallway swings open to reveal Erik Johnson.
“Come on, boys,” he calls. “Landy’s about to start his speech in the room, don’t be late.” Bo rolls his eyes but follows Erik through the door anyways. Alex grabs your hand, and your eyes flicker between your clasped hands and his face.
“I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yeah,” you smile shyly, slightly breathless. He kisses you softly and squeezes your hand before turning and following Bo and Erik into the hallway. You watch through the window until he turns a corner into the locker room.
Distant giggles break your stare, and you blush under the gaze of the young junior skaters exiting the ice.
in your journey to becoming the world’s best female figure skater, you meet Alex Newhook, the kind, slightly silly forward for the Colorado Avalanche
playlist
made another moodboard!
the doc is currently 19 pages long and a word count of 8k with mostly bullet points and like barely 2 scenes written . The story takes place over the course of a year and a half, starting in January 2021 and ending in June 2022
the colorado based fic that features a figure skater reader with cale makar that I’ll likely never write unless someone wants to help brainstorm the whole thing
Summary: A winter power outage brings an invite into your neighbor, Tyson’s, bed
Word Count: 1.7k
a/n: I wrote this before I knew how to drive can you tell
It was a miracle that your car started after work. The Tacoma lot was clear of any cars aside from yours, and the snow kept coming down. The snow came up to your ankles already, and you had to shuffle to your car.
Despite being more prepared for this snowstorm,- how could you not? It was the only thing people talked about the week prior- you definitely underestimated how fast the storm would roll in. It wasn’t even snowing when you left your apartment building that morning.
Your not-so-trusty old Honda SUV sputtered to life, the vents immediately blasting cold air. Shivering, you shifted into drive and pulled out of your parking spot, almost immediately sliding. The 4WD refused to cooperate with the icy conditions. Scrapping your original plans of meeting up with a friend in Parker, almost an hour away, you knew it was only a few minutes before you could cozy up in your warm bed.
Your tires couldn’t get a good grip on the road, sliding at each of the few turns it took to get to your building. Your headlights were the only thing illuminating the wet roads.
Stopping just in front of the garage entrance, you pulled out your key card and pressed it to the reader, but nothing moved. You pressed it again. And again. One last time before giving up, backing out into the street, and parking along the sidewalk.
Now that you stopped and looked around, you noticed the entire block and the surrounding buildings were dark. No wonder the garage door wasn’t working.
You had a few options: go back to work where you had power, find a friend to stay with, or-
Call Tyson to let you in.
Nothing ever happened with Tyson after the first snow of the season aside from one date, but life got in the way and you hadn’t even texted him since the morning after. Both busy with work and family, you couldn’t find time for each other.
Opening your phone with shaking fingers, you cringed at the last text conversation with Tyson, filled with niceties and unfulfilled promises.
“Hey!” Tyson’s slightly out of breath voice came through your speakers.
“Uh, hi,” you replied, sniffing from the cold. “I think the power’s out. The garage won’t open and it’s really fucking freezing.”
“Oh!” he said, almost a bit too loud. “Do you need me to come down and let you in?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” you sighed. “Unless you’re busy! I can figure something out?”
“No, I was just uh,” he stuttered. “I’m not busy. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Um, thank you.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“See you in a bit,” you trailed off, pressing the end call button. Grabbing your bag from the backseat, you stepped down into the snow. The boots, clearly made for looks over practicality, would surely be ruined after all the stomping through the wetness.
Walking up to the door, you cursed the builders for not including any covering at the back entrance. Fat flakes soaked your hair and the shoulders of your coat as you pulled it tighter around your body. You pressed your gloved hands into your wet cheeks, letting the visible breath pass through your fingers.
You should’ve just waited in your car for Tyson to open the door. He would have to take several flights of stairs to get down to ground level. Who knew how long it would take? You could already feel your toes going numb, the snow soaking through your socks.
You began walking in circles, trying to generate any heat. It would just be too embarrassing to walk back to the car now.
The door clicked open as you completed your fourteenth circle, and you looked up to see Tyson’s flushed face, dressed in sweats and slides with mismatched socks, a hoodie covering his curls.
“Hey,” he greeted, standing in the open door.
“Hi,” you said back, smiling dumbly at each other. Seeing him again, outside of work, made you wonder why neither of you tried for a second date.
He stepped back and held the door open. You hurried inside as another shiver passed through.
“You’re soaked!” Tyson exclaimed, brushing a hair away from your wet forehead. He grabbed one of your cold, clammy hands in his much warmer one and led you to the stairwell, shoes squeaking on the floor.
“Do you wanna come up to mine?” Tyson asked. “There won’t be much to do alone when the power’s out.”
“Then what were you doing before?”
The woman at the front desk called out a greeting, sparing Tyson from answering. Instead, he pulled open the door and followed you up the first flight.
The dimmed emergency lights made the normally just slightly scary stairs terrifying. You gripped Tyson’s hand harder as you took increasingly faster steps up the concrete stairs. He started to slow when you reached your floor, but you kept going up and pulled him along.
You opened the heavy stairwell door once the two of you reached his floor. He led you to his apartment, your shoes squeaking and squelching all down the carpeted hallway. Unlocking the door, he motioned for you to walk in first.
Somehow, when you took off your shoes, your socks were even wetter than the boots. Tyson stared at the patterned ankle socks as you tried to wiggle your toes.
“Um,” you started, suddenly regretting not getting a change of clothes from your apartment first. “Can I borrow some clothes?”
“Yeah, sure,” he replied, heading into what you assume is his bedroom. His apartment had almost the exact same layout as yours. You pulled your coat off while you were waiting, laying it over one of the barstools to dry.
Tyson came out after a minute with a folded up hoodie and sweats. “You can change in the bathroom, if you want.”
You nodded and went in the direction he pointed. You finally allowed yourself to breathe. This was just neighborly friendliness. If Tyson wanted a second date he would’ve asked months ago.
The bathroom was dark, obviously, so you turned on your phone flashlight and set it face down on the counter, casting sharp shadows on your reflection in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, you peeled the patterned pants down your thighs, shivering again when the cool air hit your legs.
With shaking hands, you tugged up the fleece lined pants and tied the drawstring extra tight. The sweatshirt was next, and you tugged it easily over your wet hair before noticing the number on the chest.
It was the sweatshirt you’d seen Tyson wear after morning skates at least twice a week, and you almost felt embarrassed wearing it, the shoulders already damp from your hair. You picked up the phone and shined it on the 17 right below your collarbone.
A hesitant knock on the slightly ajar door caused you to drop the phone with a loud bang. “You okay?”
You pulled open the bathroom door completely to see number 17 himself standing with a folded up towel. He had an unreadable expression as his eyes darted from the rolled up legs of the sweatpants from his number on your chest back down to the hanging drawstrings at your thighs.
Oh god, you probably looked like a dying rat, and you fought the urge to wrap your arms defensively around your torso.
“Yeah,” you stuttered. “Yeah, I’m all good.”
His arm darted forward and pressed the plush towel into your hands. “Uh, for your hair.”
“Thanks,” you said, unfolding it and pressing it into your hair. Tyson coughed and turned back toward the living room, and you followed the sound of his footsteps through the dark apartment.
You felt like your teeth were going to chatter out of your body as you watched Tyson flop onto the couch, opening his arms invitingly. Settling into the cushions, you curled into his warm body, resting your cheek on his chest. After pulling a blanket over the two of you, he wrapped his arms even tighter around your torso.
He asked about your day, and you murmured back and forth for who knows how long. Still, despite all the layers and body heat, you still trembled against Tyson.
“Do you wanna move to the bed? It’s warmer.”
“Trying to get me in bed before the second date?” you retorted, pushing up to meet his eyes with a grin. His cheeks reddened, and he averted his gaze to the window, where the snow kept sticking to the glass.
Wrapping the blanket even tighter around you, he gently pushed you back onto shaking legs. He held out his hand for you to take, and led you back to his bedroom. The blinds were drawn shut, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to see anything anyways.
Dropping your hand, he pulled the deep blue sheets open for you to settle into. The mattress was soft, way higher quality than the one in your apartment. You could already feel your eyes drooping as Tyson pulled the bedding up to your chin and left the room.
He came back moments later with even more blankets, dropping them onto the comforter. He nestled in on top of you, clearly trying to warm you himself. You drifted off to the sound of his steady breathing in your ear. You’d never felt warmer.
A loud beep was what eventually pulled you out of sleep hours later. The whirring of the appliances and heating sounded foreign after hours of total silence. Now that the power was back, you didn’t need to stay at Tyson’s, no matter how much you wanted to.
Pulling your arm out from between your bodies, you tried rubbing up and down Tyson’s arm to wake him. All it did was make him pull you closer, somehow.
“Tys,” you murmured. “I have to move my car.”
“No, stay,” he grumbled, his normally deep voice even huskier.
“I’ll get towed,” you gently pushed against his shoulders, trying to release his hold on your waist.
“I won’t let that happen,” he said, burrowing his face into your shoulder.
You giggled into his mop of curls, and settled back into the pillows despite all the light now streaming in from the kitchen and bathroom. It was too cozy in his bed now, and if there was really as much snow as they forecasted, the tow truck wouldn’t even be able to get to your car.
Summary: your car doesn’t start and Tyson, your neighbor, gives you a ride
Words: 540
Warnings: none I don’t think
a/n: It was 90+ degrees in Denver yesterday and now it’s snowing and I got inspired. This is unedited, I popped it out in like an hour. I thrive in cold weather, but seriously Colorado, why
~
So maybe you weren’t the best planner. In your defense, it typically doesn’t snow in the first week of September. Well, you weren’t quite sure, given that you’d just been transferred to Denver to be a media assistant for the Colorado Avalanche.
So when you walked out to your car at 8am on your first day of work without checking the weather, your knee length dress and flats didn’t help against the 30 degree chill and snow.
“What the hell?!” you exclaimed, teeth chattering. The walk back into your apartment building was embarrassing as you were now cold and wet, and you had a possibility of being late.
Seven minutes later, you rushed back outside and to your car, unlocking it with the key and pulling the door open with a squeak. The leather seats were cold against your tights-covered thighs. The white Honda SUV was a hand me down from your parents, who owned it for nearly 15 years before buying themselves a newer, fancier car. Sticking the key in the ignition and turning, the engine sputtered. Then died.
You tried again. And again. And one last time before you heard a voice from outside the window.
“Do you need a ride?” it was Tyson Jost, your cute neighbor who helped you carry boxes upstairs when you moved in last week. You opened the door with a sigh and climbed out of the car, locking it as you closed the door. “You said you work in media, so it won’t be any trouble for me.”
You really had no reason not to trust Tyson, so you nodded. You walked over to his much nicer, and definitely more expensive, car.
“Um, are you sure?” you asked as he opened the passenger door for you.
“Of course,” he said. “We’re going to the same place, and I wouldn’t want you to be late on the first day.” You smiled at him and lowered yourself into the seat, your boots squeaking against the rubber floor mats.
He gave you control over the music for the 10 minute drive, and you were surprised to find you shared a lot of artists in common.
The drive lasted longer than expected as everyone seemed to panic and forget how to drive when it snowed.
“It was 90 degrees yesterday,” you said, still in shock at waking up to snow in September.
“I take it you’re new to Denver?” Tyson joked. You laughed along with him as you pulled up to the Pepsi Center.
Tyson parked in between two other cars, and you both got out in a rush. He opened the door for you, and you were greeted with a group of other players whose names you had yet to learn. You smiled politely and hurried off to the offices, not missing the chirps directed at Tyson.
“Already charmed the new media girl?”
You blushed and noticed that the skirt you picked out in your haste was slightly wrinkled and your hair was just a bit messy. To an outsider it looked as though you were tardy because of Tyson and his charm. So maybe you blushed again when his teammates saw you exchanging numbers and climbing back into his car after that day’s practice.
Summary: you fall for Cale Makar, but keeping it hidden from your brother, Ryan Graves, is harder than it looks
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: none, I think
a/n: Let me know if there are any mistakes(other than me completely fucking up the game schedule)
~
“Hey, Gravy! How’s your sister?”
The room went silent. Ryan’s cold stare burned into Cale’s now red face. A sharp intake of breath from Cale.
Someone dropped a fork. Ryan scoffed and stomped out of the dining room. Someone placed a hand on Cale’s tense shoulder.
“Give him some time,” Landy’s voice rang through his ears. Cale could barely process it. He raked his fingers through his hair and pressed his palms into his eyes. His elbows rested on the table in front of him. “He wants her to be happy, too.”
Cale gingerly rose from his seat and headed off toward the lobby. He didn’t want to talk to Ryan yet, but he couldn’t stand to be scrutinized by his teammates in the breakfast room. Even if they were supportive of your relationship, it was too much pressure to hold himself together after Ryan’s reaction.
He typed out a text while seated in the chairs in the lobby. ‘We need to talk’ He deleted it immediately.
He pressed the call button in your contact instead. It would’ve been an hour earlier for you in Denver, but he hoped you were awake already.
“Hey!” your voice came through the phone, far too happy for a morning. He hated to ruin your good mood.
“Uh, hi,” he stuttered. “Ryan knows.” It was easier to tell you straight away instead of softening the blow.
“What do you mean, ‘Ryan knows’?” your voice came out much weaker than you expected. You stopped tying your shoes. Who cares if you were late to work?
“We were having breakfast, and Burky noticed a hickey on my neck, and then Tyson said something dumb, and now Ryan knows,” Cale said nervously. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you okay?”
“I’m gonna kill Tyson the next time I see him,” you whispered, only partially joking. “What are we gonna do?” You could hear Cale’s rapid breathing, practically being able to see his knee bouncing.
“There’s no avoiding the inevitable,” he sighed. “Not anymore.”
You got up and began pacing in and out of different rooms in your apartment. There were pictures of you and Ryan with your parents littered across the walls. Bright smiles brought warmth to your faces in these small moments in time. Your 16th birthday, when Ryan had better things to do than hang out with his little sister, but he was there by your side as you blew out the candles. When your family flew to New Jersey for the draft, and you were there cheering him on when he was drafted by the Rangers. A picture at your high school graduation when he managed to fly back home for a day to see you walk across a stage. Ryan was there for you when your previous relationships went awry, and maybe that was why telling him was so difficult. You weren’t used to hiding things from him. He was there to give you comfort when you needed it most. Ryan never knew your previous partners like he knew Cale. He and Cale were teammates, almost like brothers. To him, the two of you were just neighbors. It was a shock to his system to connect the pieces.
“We’ll be back home before the game tomorrow.”
“Huh?”
“We have back-to-backs with Chicago,” he explained. “We’ll get home before the game tomorrow. I’ll see you there?”
“Maybe, uh, probably- I don’t know,” You started. You were conflicted. Some part in your mind was still convinced Ryan would never be okay with this. You ignored it. “I probably have to work.”
The stress of facing Ryan was too much. It was easier to avoid him.
~
The games against Chicago went well, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put on the Graves sweater and drag yourself to the Pepsi Center. You’d have to see everyone after the game, and maybe even go out with them after two wins. You weren’t put together enough for that.
The last two days were spent in your apartment, watching Disney movie after Disney movie while simultaneously trying to forget all the memories with Ryan that were attached to each film. He tried calling, but you ignored each one, eventually turning your phone off. He tried to stop by your apartment, but you were throwing yourself into work. The team had a week-long roadie the following week, so you could avoid Ryan for the next few days. Hopefully, you’d be ready to talk to him by then.
The boys had a successful road trip, and Ryan showed up at your door the night before their next home game. You opened the door, bracing for Ryan’s cold eyes, but what you got instead was a firm, but warm hug. It was too much. You sobbed into his neck, clutching at the fabric of his shirt beneath his jacket.
All the stress and fear pent up over the last week released out of that hug. You felt safe. You could tell him anything in that moment, and you regretted every lie you ever told him. Every time you had other friends or your coworkers cover for you. It didn’t make sense to you why you would hide something so big anymore. Ryan rubbed small circles into your upper back, trying to calm you down.
“It’s okay,” he hushed. And maybe it would be. You sniffed and looked up at him, ready to apologize.
“I’m sorry,” you began, your eyes glancing down, refusing to make eye contact. “I shouldn’t have lied. It was my idea to hide from you. Cale always disagreed with me, but I was so set on you being angry. I don’t even know why. We’ve always told each other everything. I’m sorry I thought it was necessary to lie.”
“I’m sorry I made you feel like you needed to hide anything from me,” he rubbed his hands over his thighs nervously. “I was joking when I said he couldn’t date you. I was shocked, of course, but I’m not angry.”
“You’re not?”
“I’ve never not liked anyone you’ve dated before, I mean, until they broke your heart, then I kinda hated them,” you let out a wet laugh. “But I trust your judgement.”
You wrapped your arms around his torso again, the now wet fabric of his shirt pressing into your cheek.
“I kinda already knew anyway, I just didn’t wanna admit it.”
“What?”
“Clare pointed it out to me after that one dinner where you left after we accused you of hiding a relationship from us. And then you were wearing Cale’s jersey during the game against Nashville, and you lied to Clare about that, too,” Ryan responded with a smile on his face.
“Wow, I really need to work on my acting skills,” you laughed.
“Also, Cale was on the phone with someone and I walked in on him, and he admitted he was dating someone. I just didn’t connect it.”
“Dumbass,” you muttered with a smile and pulled away from him.“Sorry I got your shirt all gross.” He shrugged.
You went into the kitchen to grab snacks while Ryan turned on the tv. It was a routine you didn’t even have to think about anymore. He already had one of the Disney movies that you watched last week pulled up on the screen. It was time for some much needed sibling bonding.
The next morning, you woke up to Ryan leaving early for a morning skate. He had the familiar burgundy and blue fabric of your jersey grasped in his hand.
“What are you doing with that?” you mumbled from the couch.
“You won’t be needing this one anymore!”
And so you marched into the Pepsi Center that night with ‘Makar’ across your shoulder blades. Your single seat was in the lower bowl this time, and you made it there just after warm-ups.
You managed to catch Cale’s eye during the anthem, and you swore his smile could light up the whole arena. Your smile matched. The game started soon after that, and you settled into your seat.
Ryan scored first off a pass from Donskoi in the first, and you cheered the loudest. You spotted him and Cale talking on the bench. The sight warmed your heart. It would’ve killed you if Ryan really was actually upset.
It went downhill in the second, with Francouz letting in two shots. The score went even when Nichushkin shot one past the Flames’ goalie. You eventually got up during the intermission to get a drink.
The score stayed tied in the 3rd with two more goals for each team. The buzzer rang at the end of the period, and you went to get another drink for the overtime. Calgary scored 2 minutes into overtime, effectively ending the game. You slowly made your way down to the dressing room.
Even though the team lost, Cale still looked elated coming out of the dressing room. He was the first one out again, but you didn’t have to hide from anyone now. He could hold you for as long as he desired. And he did just that. Cale’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight to his warm body. You pulled your arms out of his vice grip and grabbed his face, pulling him into a deep kiss. You chose to ignore the cheers coming from the doors behind you.
“Let them be,” you heard Clare say to Ryan. She probably knew about the two of you since the beginning when you stopped showing up to the weekly dinners. She could somehow also tell when you were lying. You were glad when she dragged Ryan away.
Cale parted for air first, still holding your waist. “Guess we should take some acting classes?”
Summary: you fall for Cale Makar, but keeping it hidden from your brother, Ryan Graves, is harder than it looks
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: language, vague/brief mentions of sex
a/n: If there are any big errors please let me know! I’m very sorry I couldn’t make this a gender neutral reader, but I didn’t describe any features, just said ‘sister’ five times and ‘she’ twice. The games in this story actually happened in early November 2019, but this fic takes place in early 2020. Tell me what you think!!
~
“What are you doing here?” Cale’s face wasn’t what you expected to see when you opened the door late one night. He held a plastic Walgreens bag in his right hand, but that wasn’t what you were focused on.
“I was heading home and decided to stop by,” he said sheepishly, his shoulders shrugging, the bag swaying.
“What if Ryan were here?”
“Well, he’s not.”
“How do you know that?” you scoffed at his careless behavior.
“‘Cause I was just down the street at his apartment,” Cale easily replied. A small ‘oh’ fell from your lips and you opened the door wider to let him in. In your eyes, you could never be too careful.
“I’m sorry, I just-” you began, but Cale shushed you before you could get another word of the almost memorized excuse you had for your worries.
You first got your job at iHeartRadio in Denver back in 2017, working as an intern. When your brother, Ryan Graves was traded to the Colorado Avalanche, he moved in just down the street. It wasn’t long before you got to know more of his teammates, but it was Cale Makar who caught your attention.
“I know, I know,” Cale sighed, setting down a Walgreens bag on the coffee table. “Do you remember when we first met?”
You were heading downstairs to greet Ryan before a weekly dinner at your apartment, but he was in a conversation with someone else in the lobby.
“I didn’t know you and my sister were neighbors,” Ryan remarked. The other man shrugged. You made your way over from the elevator, bumping your hip into Ryan’s.
“Oh! y/n this is Cale, Cale, y/n,” Cale greeted you with a warm smile, and you raised a hand in return.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around the building yet,” you questioned, tilting your head.
“I’m new to Denver, actually.”
“Well, my door is always open,” you said. Any friend of Ryan’s was a friend of yours. “In fact, why don’t you come up for dinner?”
Ryan nodded in agreeance, but Cale hesitated.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Of course!” you reassured him. “I made extra anyway.”
The night went well from there, the three of you sharing the chicken and potatoes. But it was something that Ryan said towards the end of the night that stoked the swirling fire of guilt in your head.
“You better not date my sister, Calesy.”
“How could I forget?” you started. “Ryan literally told us not to do what we’re doing right now.”
“Which is exactly why I understand what you’re worried about,” he wrapped you into a tight hug, silently easing your nerves. “Now, what do you want to watch?”
~
It was a few weeks later when Cale and Tyson were scheduled for a radio interview with the sports station located in the same building as the channel you worked for. It wasn’t planned to see Cale that day, but when he brought you food during your lunch break, you were happy nonetheless.
“I wasn’t sure what you ordered,” he explained. “I hope you like it.” You could tell from the smell alone that you were about to have the best lunch break ever.
“Aw, baby, thank you,” you said graciously. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you today. Here, take my seat.” Cale eased into the plastic rolling chair as you settled yourself into his lap, back against his chest.
“How’s your day going?”
“It’s, uh, goin’ okay, I guess,” you sighed. “I’m supposed to be releasing Instagram story polls, but I don’t have most of the questions, so it’s been a rough morning trying to brainstorm. And two of the interns called off to-” he tilted your head back and kissed you softly, effectively cutting off your rant. You smiled into the kiss, just happy to have him here with you.
Your moments together were few and far between, with both of your hectic work schedules. Whenever Cale had days off, so did Ryan. It was complicated planning dates that aligned with your off days and Cale’s and making sure Ryan was busy so he wouldn’t show up unannounced.
His stomach grumbled, causing you both to laugh. You ate without any more interruptions until your coworker walked by and knocked on the cubicle wall, drawing attention to the time. Cale had to be in the lobby in 5 minutes.
Frowning, you pushed yourself up out of the chair and grabbed Cale’s hand, walking him to the elevators. He matched your slower pace and swung your clasped hands back and forth between your bodies. You pressed the down button and pressed yourself into his side as you waited. He led you into the elevator as you reached out to hit the ‘lobby’ button.
“I made dinner reservations next week,” you stated. Cale nodded in acknowledgment. Right as the doors were about to close, a hand stuck out to stop them before stepping in.
“Oh!” the man exclaimed, and you realized he was the producer for the show Cale was to appear on today. He shook Cale’s hand and introduced himself.
“It’s so good to meet you,” the man scanned your chest for your nametag. “And you, Miss Graves. Are you related to Ryan Graves?”
“Yes, he’s my brother,” you smiled. Cale coughed awkwardly next to you. The elevator cab slowed to a halt. The doors opened, revealing Tyson Jost sitting in one of the lobby’s chairs. You squeezed Cale’s hand as a goodbye while he walked through the doors to greet Tyson. The man in the lobby narrowed his eyes at you before sending a questioning glance to Cale. Before any more damage could be done, you hit the button for your floor repeatedly, avoiding his gaze.
“Was that Gravy’s sister?” Tyson questioned, now standing.
“Yeah, uh, she was in the elevator with us,” Cale replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Huh, weird.”
“Yeah, what a coincidence.”
“Wait,” Tyson began. “Is that why you got here early?” Cale looked away in guilt as Tyson knowingly chuckled.
~
You were over at Ryan’s for your weekly, now monthly, dinner making the food with his girlfriend. Clare was a nice girl, and while you may have been skeptical of her at first, she was becoming one of your closest friends.
You had just twisted the burner to ‘Lo’ when the front door opened and revealed Ryan and-
“Cale?” you gasped.
“Nice to see you too,” Ryan said, taking off his shoes in the entryway. He waltzed into the kitchen, plopping a kiss on your forehead before greeting Clare and grabbing plates. Cale was still in the hallway, fumbling with his coat. You quietly walked over to help him hang it up, hoping Ryan would fail to notice your interaction.
“Is this okay?” he whispered. You nodded weakly and spun on your heel into the kitchen where Clare was dishing the food. Ryan always knew when you were lying, whether it was while playing cards or to your parents in your teenage years. How were you going to get through this dinner?
While seated at the table, Clare across from you, Ryan and Cale on either side, the conversation slipped into your dating life.
“When was the last time you were on a date?” Clare prodded. Realistically, it was last week when you took Cale out to his favorite restaurant in Denver, but you couldn’t tell this dinner table that.
“A few months, probably,” you admitted, picking up your fork for another bite. You hoped your chewing would disguise the lie.
“Then what was that photo you posted last week at the art museum?” she smirked. You knew she meant no harm, but her words were not appreciated. You smiled around the glass of water, hoping to douse your now flaming cheeks. Cale kept shoveling food into his mouth, trying -and failing- to disguise his knowing smile.
“Oh yeah, y/n,” Ryan probed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. “Who took that picture?” You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. There was no way he was getting an answer out of you.
“What? Are you hiding a secret romance from us?” Clare smirked, placing her fork onto her almost empty plate. Ryan narrowed his accusatory eyes at your flushed face.
“Wouldn’t that be something, huh?” you said sarcastically, grabbing your plate and leaving the awkward atmosphere you created. Cale coughed and reached to grab the rest of the plates, following you into the kitchen.
“Let me do the dishes,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. He stared into your now watery eyes. Ryan hadn’t reacted well, and it filled you with even more guilt.
You sniffed. “You’re a guest, just let me finish these.”
“Technically, this is Ryan’s apartment,” Clare stated, bringing in the empty glasses. “He should be the one washing up.” You turned away from her prying eyes, wiping your face with the fabric of your sweater. Cale’s hearty laugh calmed your nerves, but you still couldn’t stand to be in the same place as him and Ryan any longer.
Tugging on your shoes, you were calling out your ‘goodbyes’ before they could question your actions. Of course, Cale wanted to walk you home, and on any other night, you’d let him, but not tonight. Regret and doubtful words filled your mind through the brisk walk home, and you didn’t realize the tears were falling until you felt a warm, familiar hand on your back.
“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, it’s okay,” The comforting arms engulfed you into a hug, the hands pressing your face into a chest. Cale’s familiar scent submerged you into the calm, away from the flame of remorse. You openly sobbed into his chest.
“We have to tell him,” you decided once you slowed and regulated your breathing. “I can’t take the guilt anymore. Lying to him is so hard.”
“Me too,” he said, releasing you from his arms but still grasping your hand. “I’ve never been good at hiding things. Especially not how I feel about you.”
You pulled him down, pressing your lips to his. Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, his hands grabbing at your hips. At that moment, who cares who could see you. All that mattered right then was you and Cale.
~
“So does Sandra Bullock actually tell his family they’re engaged?” Cale’s voice rumbled through your chest. His head was resting on your chest, your arms curled around his neck, both your heads craned towards the tv in his living room.
“Her name is Lucy, and shhh, you’re missing it,” you chastised. He chuckled against you, and you lightly tugged on his hair.
You turned your focus away from the movie, appreciating the way his stomach pressed into your thighs with each breath. Things were becoming tenser between the two of you. A quiet night in watching While You Were Sleeping was exactly what you needed.
“I will marry you!”
“OH, shit!” Cale startled, tearing you out of your head. “He’s already engaged!?”
“Yeah, that’s the ‘Ashley’ Peter’s family mentioned earlier,” you replied.
“That’s not good.”
“Oh, it gets better. They think she’s pregnant, too.” Cale inhaled and reached up to grab your hand, pulling it down onto the couch next to you.
The movie progressed, further revealing Lucy and Jack, Peter’s brother’s, romance. It was right when Peter woke when Ryan’s ringtone rang from the coffee table. Cale sighed and went to get up, but you clutched his shoulder, pressing him back.
“No, stay, you’re warm,” you whined. You reached over to pause the movie and grab your vibrating phone.
“Just stay quiet. Hey!” you spoke warmly into the phone. Ryan’s torn voice came from the other end.
“Hey, can I come over? I need some advice about Clare,” guilt immediately consumed you. “We got into an argument and I don’t know how to make it up to her.”
“Oh, I’m a bit busy now,” your body tensed, and Cale began rubbing up and down your thighs. “Maybe you can come over for breakfast?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” he mumbled. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you hung up the phone and pressed ‘play’ on the remote, relaxing back into the pillows.
“Do we need to talk about it?” Cale questioned, poking you in the side. You shook your head.
It was when he didn’t hear you laugh at the dialogue that he noticed the wet streaks on your cheeks.
“Woah, hey- stop, baby,” Cale sat up, pulling your legs over his lap.
“No, I know, I’m sorry,” you rambled. “It’s just hard to lie to him.”
Cale pulled you fully into his lap, pressing your body against his. “Shh, he’ll be okay.” He laid back, maneuvering you on top of him, effectively swapping places from earlier. You sniffed into his shirt, slowly drifting asleep.
“Ashley was already married?” burst Cale. You stirred on his lap and clutched his shirt. He went back to brushing circles beneath your sweatshirt. Suddenly tired, Cale turned off the tv and reclined into the couch, pulling a blanket over your tangled bodies.
A sharp knock pulled you from sleep hours later. You felt an aching crick in your neck from the awkward position atop Cale’s chest.
“y/n? I brought coffee!” Ryan!
You jolted up from the couch, accidentally knocking into Cale’s chin.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered. Your legs caught in the blanket, and you tripped over the coffee table. “Just a second!” Cale rubbed at his eyes, running a hand through his hair.
“Go to my room and hide,” you whispered, grabbing his hands to drag him up.
You hurried to the front door, kicking Cale’s shoes into the closet and shutting the door. Ryan knocked again right as you pulled open the door. The first thing you noticed was the dark circles under his eyes.
“Good morning!” you greeted, plastering on a fake smile. “Let me, uh, get dressed, and we can go somewhere to eat.” Ryan nodded and followed you inside, opting to wait in the kitchen. You hoped you didn’t leave anything out that could reveal Cale’s presence.
Walking into your bedroom, you noticed Cale sitting at the edge of your bed, typing away on his phone.
“I’m so sorry,” you apologized. Lifting his arms, you settled onto his thighs and held his gaze. “You know I hate hiding you, but we remember what Ryan said.”
“Would he really be angry?” Cale said, keeping his volume low.
“Yes, ugh- it’s hard to describe, he just would be upset,” You pressed a small kiss to his nose. You slid off him and went to the closet, pulling on a different pair of pants and swapping out your hoodie. “I’ll call you later.” You ran your hands through your hair, aiming to tame it as you pulled on your shoes.
“You ready to go?” Ryan asked.
“Yep!”
Cale heard the front door closed and scrunched up his face in remorse.
~
Your phone buzzed on the table in front of you, showing a text from none other than Cale.
“You talk to Makar?” Ryan questioned.
“Uh, yeah,” you stuttered. “We talk sometimes, I guess.” Ryan reached and grabbed your phone, reading the text aloud.
“‘Hope you have a good day’ it says,” Ryan’s face contorted in confusion.
“Huh, weird.”
“Yeah, that is pretty weird,” he scoffed. You leaned forward and snatched the phone out of his hands.
“What, am I not allowed to be friends with your teammates?” you snapped.
“No, that’s not what I meant at all-” fortunately, the waitress walked up and asked for your drink orders. You rolled your eyes and looked up towards the ceiling. Why did this have to be so difficult?
~
You were at John and Steve, your coworkers’, house to watch tonight’s home game against Nashville, your Makar jersey hanging from your frame. Usually, you’d be cheering for your boys from the stands, but a work obligation caused you to stay late and you would miss the first period with the commute. The plan was to go out with your coworkers, but the three of you were far too tired for a bar, settling for their house. The jersey was stuffed into your bag last minute as this was one of the few times you got to wear it. Steve sent you a questioning glance when you pulled it over your work polo before you left the office, but John failed to notice.
“I’ll order a pizza,” John declared in the car. You hummed in agreeance from the backseat, your eyes closed and head resting against the headrest. A famous singer was scheduled for an interview the next day but had to reschedule for a day earlier, causing panic in the office. You were exhausted.
John turned the tv on in the middle of the second anthem, with only minutes to spare. You just settled in with a plate of pizza when Cale scored with an assist from Ryan less than a minute in. You cheered around the bite of pizza, standing up and jumping around with Steve.
You checked your phone after sending a quick text to Cale and noticed that John tagged you in a story. It was a still image of you and the other man dancing around with the caption “look at these idiots.” You smiled and quickly added it to your story, focusing back on the game.
“Bet you’re glad you wore that jersey tonight,” John remarked from the other end of the couch, drawing a laugh from you. Nashville scored after that, but Mackinnon put Colorado back in the lead and that brought an end to the first period.
You went to get another couple slices of pizza during the break and noticed you had a text from Ryan. ‘r u watching?’ it read. You responded with a short ‘yes’ and went into the bathroom to change out of your work attire now that you had time to spare.
The second period began with two goals from the Predators, bringing them ahead by 1. The lead was soon squashed by Donskoi, tying the game 3-3. Not 20 seconds later, your brother shot from the blue line and brought the team to a 4-3 lead.
“FUCK YEAH!” you shouted, doing the practiced victory dance with Steve. He grabbed your hands and you jumped three times before twirling each other beneath raised arms. John was taking a video this time and caught your gleeful expression, posting it to Instagram again. In your excitement, you didn’t notice how it showed off your #8 jersey when you reposted it.
The Avs ended up winning 9-4 with 6 consecutive goals in the second and a final one by Donskoi in the third. It was later, before you went to bed, when Ryan sent you a link to a tweet followed only by a series of question marks. Your Instagram account was public, so someone must’ve saved the video of your celly and uploaded it to Twitter for the rest of the world to see. The caption was “Graves’ sister wearing a Makar jersey?”
How were you supposed to explain this one?
‘forgot my jersey at home and borrowed john’s lol’ You hoped he believed you.
~
The energy in the Pepsi Center a couple nights later was unparalleled. Obviously, you had swapped your Makar jersey for one that showed your own last name across the back. You eventually took the story down, but the damage was already done. It was a weekend, so you were able to attend this game. You sat in the family box with everyone else’s family waiting for the game against Columbus to begin.
It was off to a rough start with Ryan getting a holding penalty and the Blue Jackets scoring. You sat anxiously, knee bouncing, hoping anyone would tie the game. Sam Girard came in clutch with a power-play goal, but Columbus scored again with less than a minute left in the first, bringing them to a 2-1 lead.
You went to get drinks with Clare during the break, hoping it would tear your mind away from the stress of the game.
“So what was the deal with the jersey on Thursday?” Clare asked while you were waiting in line.
“I forgot mine at home so I had to borrow my coworker’s,” you said, the rehearsed excuse falling easily from your lips. She sent you a look that clearly meant she didn’t actually believe you. She had nothing to show against your claim otherwise, and you were saved from explaining further when it was your turn to order.
Halfway into the second period, Cale scored off a pass from Ryan, and again not five minutes later. You cheered and danced with Clare this time. You were happy to be here supporting in-person instead of sitting at home in front of a tv screen.
The boys snagged a 4-2 win, and you were anxious to get downstairs to greet them. Cale made it out of the dressing room first, so the two of you could share your moment before everyone else was crowding the hallway.
He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, hugging you tightly as you murmured praises into his ear. You rocked back and forth, taking your time in appreciating Cale.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered. You leaned back, still in his arms, and shook your head no. There were too many people around. But you reached up and pecked his rosy cheek instead. A low whistle partnered with a hearty laugh broke the small bubble around the two of you. Josty and Compher walked out of the dressing room and saw you and Cale in a tight embrace.
“Young Gravy, what are you doing here?” Tyson yelled. You laughed at the nickname.
“Great game,” you said, ignoring the question and creating distance from Cale.
“Yeah, it was!” J.T. shouted. “Our boy, Calesy, got two goals!” He wrapped an arm around Cale’s shoulder jostling him around a bit. More cheers and hollers followed his comment as more of their teammates came through the double doors, including Ryan.
He came over and hugged you tightly, lifting you into the air a few inches as he cheered into your ear. The taller man set you down and patted the name on your back, moving on to greet Clare.
“You good?” Cale mouthed. You nodded, biting your bottom lip anxiously. You’d become too careless, Ryan had to be suspecting something.
~
“I’m exhausted,” you groaned into the phone. The boys were on a long road trip, and you missed both of them so much. It was out of your routine to not hang out with either of them at least once a week, and it stressed you out. You were used to waking up to Cale’s sleepy face in bed or Ryan passed out on your couch. “Miss you so much.”
“I know, y/n,” he mumbled. “I’ll-uh- we’ll be back next week.” Cale was sitting in his hotel room in Vancouver, trying not to fall asleep when the door opened.
“You awake in here?” Ryan’s voice came from the doorway.
“Look, I gotta go,” Cale hushed into his phone. “Talk to you later.” He hung up the phone, abruptly ending your conversation.
“Sorry, man, didn’t know you were on the phone.”
“It’s all good, I was gonna go to bed soon anyway.”
“Who are you even talking to this late? Got a girlfriend you aren’t telling us about?” Cale tried to deny it, but his flushed cheeks sold him out. “Nice, man! When can I meet her?”
“Not sure,” he stuttered. “She’s, uh, shy.” Ryan nodded and dropped the topic, opting to turn off the lights and pass out.
The next morning, Cale was eating cereal at breakfast when he felt a sharp poke in the neck.
“Is that a hickey?” Burky bellowed. A chorus of shouts and praises erupted, and a few guys patted him on the shoulder.
“Cale juice gets some?”
“Better than you!”
“Yeah, Calesy!”
But it was a shout from Tyson that silenced everyone.
Summary: after a split at the start of quarantine,
Word Count: 1.8k
a/n: bubble fic bc why not!
~
The puck traveled from Landeskog to Makar. Makar to Kadri. Kadri to Landeskog. Landeskog to the post. In front of him. There was an opening and he took it, a fraction of a second before the buzzer. It was in. The buzzer sounded in the almost empty arena, followed soon by the goal horn, confirming his power-play goal against the Blues.
Nate skated away in victory, celebrating with the rest of his line. The adrenaline barely masked the constant grief he carried because of you.
~
You weren’t quite sure when it started. It might’ve been the countless missed calls. Or the cancelled dates replaced by nights out with the boys. Maybe it was Nate demanding to spend time with you, conveniently only when you were already busy.
But you were tired. You were tired of staying up late for him to not come home at all. Tired of the excuses you made to your coworkers about why your boyfriend of 4 years was absent from an event. You reached your breaking point sometime in March, right as the pause began. You and Nate had yet to go back to your shared home in Nova Scotia, so you were trapped at his Denver condo in the 9 inches of snow.
You tried to spend time with him at home. You sat on the couch with him while you worked and he played Fortnite for hours on end. You binged tv shows together, and you even tried to workout with him one morning.
“What do you think about if I cut my hair?” no response.
“We should get a dog,” not even an acknowledgement.
“Why don’t we just elope?” he interrupted you with a loud shout before you could even finish. You slammed the lid on your laptop shut, sighing dramatically as you stood, stomping into the kitchen with two dirty plates and a mug. It was then that Nate noticed something was wrong. You heard him say an excuse to whoever he was playing with tonight before his footsteps followed yours.
“What’s up with you tonight?” he said. His arms crossed as he leaned against the cool marble counter, the sleeves of his hoodie pulling tight against him.
“Tonight?” you retorted. You slammed the fresh mug onto the counter and turned towards him with a harsh fire in your eyes. “What about all the other times I tried to even have a conversation with you the past few months? It’s one thing when you ignore me during the season, but it’s a whole other thing when you ignore me when we’re stuck in the same house for weeks! I don’t even remember the last time you initiated a single conversation.”
“Baby-”
“No. Let me finish. I’m always here for you, waiting at home after a long trip or a bad game. Do you even remember the last work event you went to for me? Wait, you don’t have to. It was a holiday party last December, Nathan. Do you even know how long ago that was? You can’t just pick and choose to be a part of someone’s life.”
You assume it hit him then, but you were too worked up for any excuse he could’ve made. So you marched up the stairs and slammed the door. Nate could find a spare blanket in the hall closet if he wanted to.
His footsteps followed you upstairs about 20 minutes later, but you already locked the door and were trying to sleep alone in the chill of your normally warm bed. He sighed and settled on the floor at the top of the stairs. The wall made a thud as his weight fell back against it.
You sobbed into his pillow that night, knowing he could hear you through the wooden door. He slept just as well with the carpet itching against his skin. Hours of your crying penetrated his mind as he tried to get any sleep at all.
The clock read 5:34 am when you called it quits. Pulling out a suitcase from the closet, you packed the majority of your clothes into the large suitcase. In less than 20 minutes you were ready to haul the patterned bag down to your car. You pulled the bedroom door open, almost tripping over Nate in your haste to leave.
“What are you doing with that?” he asked, his voice surprisingly clear for the early hour.
“I’m going home,” you said, voice devoid of any emotion.
“Home? But our flight isn’t until next week?” He stood and tried to grab your hand. He was afraid he was losing you.
“No, Nate, home home. In Omaha,” you said, glad for the opportunity to squeeze past him and down the stairs, pulling your luggage with you.
“What? You can’t just leave!” his voice followed you through the hallways to the front door.
“I can, and I will,” you responded, pulling the door open. The pressure changed in the room along with the temperature dropping as cool air rushed into the space. “We need time apart, so I’m going home.”
He was left speechless once again, unable to gather the words to get you to stay. No apology would keep you tied to him. The soft thuds of your boots against the carpeted floor got softer in his ears as you walked further and further away from him, from the life you’d built together.
~
Now you sat in the living room of your childhood home in Omaha, Nebraska, reluctantly watching the group of men you once called your family fight to tie this round-robin game against the Blues. You grew up a Blues fan due to the proximity of Nebraska to St. Louis. It was often a point of teasing early on in your relationship with Nate.
You hadn’t spoken to him since the morning you left. Even though you loved your family, it was a long and lonely quarantine without your boyfriend. At least-- you assumed you were still together, both of you too stubborn to call it quits just like that.
Thinking about it made your chest ache, so you curled your legs up and settled further into the couch, hoping at least someone would score.
The second period ended with the same 1-0 Blues score as the first. Your leg tapped anxiously for the first five minutes of the last period until Graves scored off a pass from Mikko. All they needed to do was get a puck in net one more time.
The clock winded down, displaying each fraction of a second. Now standing, you watched the numbers decline and hoped for a miracle so this wouldn’t torture you anymore in overtime. The boys made play after play, shot after shot, each going just wide of the net.
A final shot from Gabe with one second left deflected off the post to the right of Binnington, leaving a wide open net for Nate. He pushed the puck in on a lunge, skating away with a wide smile and excited nods. The rest of his line crashed into the glass, celebrating as the horns sounded one after the other.
You jumped up several times, cheering loudly, despite the small ache in your chest of longing. A few of your family members came into the room then, and you rewinded the Altitude stream to show them Nate’s buzzer beater with a proud smile on your face, too hyped with adrenaline to care about your split.
The photo from the in-net camera of Nate grinning was all over social media the next day. You’d gotten over the joy and pride fairly soon after the game, remembering why you were supposed to be angry with him. Seeing his face every time you opened Twitter was not helping.
You missed everything about Nate. Having lived together for over two years, going five months seeing no one but your relatives took a great toll on you. He used to always care for you, whether it be through cooking meals or listening to you endlessly complain after a long day. You missed being held.
But truly, after everything, all you both needed was a breather, space to yourselves, away from each other.
Even if that were the case, it still sucked. All your friends from St. Louis moved on from the city, and it wasn’t like you could even go into the city.
You spent your mornings still angry at Nate, your afternoons working or learning a new hobby, and your nights wishing for the life you used to have.
~
Almost exactly a month later, the team was eliminated by Dallas in overtime. You hoped, for the team, that this was their year, but injuries caught up too soon, and they were diminished. You were optimistic about the series, but it wasn’t meant to be.
Two weeks later, the doorbell rang. You stood from your spot on the couch, but your father beat you to the door. You stepped into the entryway to see Nathan, at your front door, smiling sheepishly at your dad.
“You wanna take this outside?” The older man turned towards you and spoke with a grin. You nodded and stepped onto the front porch. It was still warm outside, the humid air warming your face.
“I was hoping we could talk?” It was your first time hearing Nate’s voice in months.
“Okay,” you said, closing the door behind you.
He sucked in a breath and looked down at the old wood of the porch. “I’m sorry.” Another breath. “For the way I treated you over the past few months,” you linked your hands behind your back but stayed silent.
“I didn’t make time for you, and I guess I thought I didn’t have to try. But I do. And I know you probably don’t want to see me, but I just couldn’t let you go. It’s not my say if you don’t think it’s the right time for us, but it didn’t feel right, not having you there with me.” You breathed slowly, taking in his apology.
“I kept going back to what you said to me that morning. I was choosing the wrong things. I want to fix us. I’m ready to love you right.”
You looked up then, meeting his intense eyes with your hopeful gaze.
“It might not ever be time, but I want to try,” you said with a shy smile. He grinned, with the same amount of joy as the night he scored that buzzer beater, and pulled you into a tight hug. You laughed into his shoulder, shifting your weight between feet and rocking back and forth happily.
“I’m sorry too,” you mumbled, pulling away slightly. “I was a bitch that day.” Nate snorted.
~
Months later, you sat at Ball Arena, the seats on every side of you blocked off to properly distance everyone. You watched the boys destroy the Blues, already scoring five goals at halfway through the third period. Nate raced through the slot with a solid pass from Cale, easily shooting it past Husso.
Even over the artificial crowd cheers, he could make out your voice above all the rest. He looked up, way up, at the section you were in. It felt like he was dreaming. Especially then, he knew everything would work out.
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