baby, come touch the pearl

[pearlandemerald]

Esme | 19 | she/her | est. dec, 2006 | woc | I love my fuckass teal teams | kraken + torrent + sharks fan | pnw baby | dancer | lizzy mcalpine | clairo | rina sawayama | doechii | doja cat | adela

now playing: missing u by robyn

Requests: OPEN (rules to know before requesting )

masterlist | ao3 | au masterlist

smau help

“'CAUSE I'M MISSING YOU. I MISS YOU.”

[pearlandemerald]

HILARY KNIGHT ISNT ON THE TORRENT ANYMORE????!!?! KILL MEEEEEE

[pearlandemerald]

mine all mine - nm²⁹

summary - the arrival of baby mackinnon!

pairings - nathan mackinnon x doctor!reader

warnings - childbirth, parental anxiety, tooth-rotting fluff, and not proofread!

wc - 5.1k

requested - no!

a/n - that’s a shit ass summary but oh well! natemack you are a brainworm to me I have written two fics for him in the span of two weeks. long ass fics too that end up at 5.1k, strange. Anyways, I promise I am working on Connor and figure skater reader though!

You feel like you’ve been pregnant for 10 years. 

It’s an exaggeration, yes. But when you’re a week past your due date, and you feel like you’re going stir crazy from the anticipation, time seems to move more slowly. Nate’s been on edge all week. He left for a roadie on Monday, and his worst fear is missing the birth of your daughter. So he calls three times a day: morning, noon, and night. Your answer every time has been the same. 

“No baby yet, it’s all good.” 

Not that it does much to ease his worries. You’ve been to your OB three times this week alone, monitoring the health of your baby and the placenta. She says if your water doesn’t break by today, when Nate conveniently gets home, they’ll induce you on Saturday morning. You’d love to be induced now and get the baby out, but Nate needs to be there. 

“We’re about to take off. Still no baby yet?” Nate asks. 

“Nope, she’s still cozied up inside me.” Your phone is pressed to your ear, and you sigh, looking down at your bump, which has dropped more in the last few days. “Not coming out, the second you get home, I’m giving you a day to get mentally prepared because I’m going to be induced tomorrow. This motherfucking baby is coming out of me by the end of this weekend.”

“Okay baby, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable any longer.” Nate agrees quickly, he doesn’t like the idea of you being uncomfortable any longer than you have to be. 

“I really just need you to come home. Having four parents hovering around me waiting for this baby to come, I’m suffocating.”

“I’ll be home in two hours, and then we can go have our baby girl.” He reassures you. “I’ve gotta go now, I'll be back soon. Text me if anything changes.”

“I assure you nothing will. I’ll still be a beached whale when you come home.” You sigh and watch the front door open, revealing your parents. “My jailers are home. Have a safe flight, baby. I love you.”

“Don’t call your parents your jailers.” Nate laughs, “I love you too. I’ll be back in two hours.”

The call disconnects, and your mother directs your father to put the groceries on the counter. “Hi sweetie, was that Nate?” Your dad kisses the top of your head. 

“Yeah, just making sure our baby girl hasn’t started to make her way out.” Your humor, nearing the end of your pregnancy, has become far more crude, “If my water doesn’t break today, we’re going to the hospital tomorrow morning.”

“Alright, we got you both some groceries, and Kathy is coming over later to help me prepare some meals for you both so you don’t have to think about cooking.” Your mom begins unpacking the bags, and despite calling them your jailers, your parents and Nate's have been heaven-sent.

“Thanks, Mom. I think I’m gonna go take a nap.” You let out a yawn, hands braced on your lower back, the area has become increasingly more stiff over the past two days. 

“We’ll get you up by the time Nate gets home.” She nods, opening the refrigerator. 

“If I’m not up by the time he gets home just send him upstairs.”

“Will do, honey.” Your dad pushes you up the stairs, finally, and you slowly trudge back to your room. 

Crawling under the covers, you wrap yourself around the pregnancy pillow that Nate hates so much, and get some shut-eye. In what feels like two minutes passing, you wake up to the feeling of a hand on your face. You blink your eyes open to see Nate smiling down at you.

“Hi, my love.” You mumble, sleep still a warm blanket over you. 

“Hi, baby.” He kisses your cheek gently. “Sleep okay?”

“I didn't mean to sleep so long.” Nate helps you up, and you brace your hands on his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.” Nate presses his mouth against yours, and you melt into the kiss. “I’m glad our baby girl decided to wait for me. I would never forget myself if I missed her birth.”

“Well, you have a two-day break, and our baby girl will be here tomorrow.”

“I know I can’t wait to meet her.” He presses a hand to your bump, “Let’s get you something to eat before we settle in for the night. I’ll check the hospital bag one more time.”

“Okay.” You nod and walk downstairs to the sound of laughter coming from your and Nate’s parents. “Its strange to have everyone here.”

“The fullest the house has been in a while. But, I missed it.”

“Not me?” You joke.

“You the most out of everything.”  He kisses the side of your head. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Your dad laughs as the two of you walk down the stairs. 

“It’s the evening, Dad.” You roll your eyes. 

“You were out for a while.” Your mom notes, and you join her and Kathy in the living room. 

“I am so tired all the time. My back hurts too, like I can’t see my feet anymore.” 

“All a part of the process.” Kathy pats your shoulder.

“Good game in Minnesota, son.” Graham pats Nate on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, Dad.” Nate smiles and sits down on the couch next to you. “Comfortable?”

“No, but what can you do?” You place your feet into his lap and Nate rubs small circles on the inside of your ankle. “Fuck my back hurts.”

“Language, darling.” Your mother scolds, and you sigh. 

“I’m 41 years pregnant, mom, let me have this please?”

“Very funny, but you’ll have to watch that mouth of yours once the baby is born.” She raises an eyebrow, and you nod. 

“Nate’s not much better.”

“Throwing me under the bus, in front of our parents? Is this what our marriage has come to?” Nate scoffs, pinching your shin. You laugh, trying to swat his hand away.

“Ack!” You screech, as he tickles the bottom of your foot.

“Tickling your pregnant wife is not very nice of you, Nathan. I taught you better.” Kathy lightly smacks the back of his head in a teasing manner. 

“You did.” Nate ceases his tickling, “See a perfect gentleman.”

“Sure…” You narrow your eyes and try to stand up, “Someone help me up.”

Nate gets off the couch and helps you up, steadying you before letting you walk in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you ready for dinner, hon?” Your mom calls from the living room. 

“Yeah, I can help make something.” You open the refrigerator and feel your back twinge, a grimace forming on your face. 

“You okay, baby?” Nate asks, noticing the look on your face. 

“Yeah.” You pause for a moment before straightening up again. “What do people want to eat?”

“We got this, sweetheart, you just relax.” Your father comes up behind you, and you wince again as the pain in your back starts in your stomach. The cramping feeling has you gripping the table. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Nate crosses the room with concern written on his face, “Talk to me, baby.” His hand comes to your face, and you look at him. 

“I think I’m in labor, my water hasn’t broken yet, but fuck, this kid has great timing.” You lean over the counter with your head resting against the cool marble. 

“Oh shit.” Nate rubs your back soothingly. “Should we get you to the hospital?”

“No, my contractions aren’t close enough, and my water hasn’t broken yet. We should eat dinner and maybe get some rest, because once my water breaks, there’s no stopping this baby from coming.” You stand up straight.

“You’re in labor, sit down, please.” Nate steers you away from the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner, you just sit down.”

“Fine, fine.” The cramping feeling goes away, but the spike in your anxiety. The realization that you will be having this baby within the next day or so has you in shock. 

The next contraction comes twenty minutes later, your mom holds your hand through the 30 seconds, and you can see the concern in Nate’s eyes. 

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Can I get you some water?” Your mom brushes some stray strands of hair from your eyes.

“I think I want to go put a pad on for precaution, just so it’s less of a mess when my water breaks.” 

“Let me help you upstairs then.” You look over at Nate, and he’s watching you like a hawk.

“I’m fine, my love, just going to change into something more comfortable.” You squeeze his hand as you walk past the kitchen and move upstairs.

It goes on the same way for hours, your labor progressing at snail's pace and Nate worrying about even leaving your side. You're both lying in bed, your water has yet to break, and your contractions are twenty minutes apart. 

“I feel like we should go to the hospital.” Nate is anxious, and probably going through every worst-case scenario his brain can imagine. 

“Once my contractions are closer together or my water breaks, we can.” You mumble, cuddling closer to your pregnancy pillow.

“I’m just worried.” He finally lays down, cradling you from behind. 

“I know you are, but we’ve still got a long way to go. Baby Girl isn’t here yet.” You bring his hand to your mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles. 

“But she’s coming. What should I do about the game? We play on Monday.”

“If you want to go play, you can, but if you want to stay with me, that's fine too. You don’t have to make a decision now, there’s still time.” You feel sleep trying to overcome you, but another contraction hits, and you have to grit your teeth.

“Another one?” Nate sits up, and it’s pretty clear that neither of you is going to get much sleep tonight. “We could go for a walk? Or maybe you could take a hot bath?”

“Bath sounds nice.” You push out of bed and walk into the en-suite bathroom. “Are you gonna join me?”

“This is for you. Besides, the tub isn’t big enough for both of us.” Nate shakes his head.

“Fine…I’ll get you in the bath with me someday.” You grin and turn on the faucet. 

“We did that on our honeymoon.”

“But that tub was the size of a small pool. I mean the one in this house.” You pour a generous amount of Epsom salt and bubble bath into the scalding hot water.

“Maybe sometime.” Nate pulls out the soft, fluffy towels you both preserve for special occasions.

“Not even when I’m in labor?” You scoff and start to strip out of your sleep clothes.

“Don’t make me sound like a bad husband.” He turns off the faucet and helps you into the tub.

The hot water does wonders to soothe some of your aching muscles, not everything, but enough to make you feel more comfortable. Nate sits down on the ledge, and you rest your head on his thigh.

“I’m nervous.” You finally speak, saying the two words neither of you had dared to say.

“Me too. Like, I don’t know how to care for a baby, what if I drop her, or I’m never here enough, and I miss all the big milestones?”

“You’ll be here, and there will be plenty of milestones for you to see. But whether you will be there for her physically or not, our girl will know her dad loves her.” Nate strokes your head gently.

“You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“And you’re gonna be a great dad. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, it will only make you miss the little things.” You look up at him. 

“The little things?” He questions.

“The small moments that feel inconsequential at the time but will mean everything in the future. If you aren’t there for the milestones, who cares? Make your own. Ones that are gonna be important to you.” You straighten out your back and lean closer up near his hip. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” Nate smiles. 

“One of my many talents. It’s the empathetic side of me, or my bedside manner, not really sure.” You hum before feeling another contraction come on. Nate grabs your hand as you breathe through the cramping sensation. Once it relents, you take a deep breath, “That one was like 45 seconds.”

“They’re getting longer and closer together. Your last one was only 18 minutes ago.” Nate looks down at his watch. 

“Two minutes closer now.” You sigh, “This is getting more real by the second.”

“Your water hasn’t broken yet?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“Once they get to five minutes apart and are 60 seconds long, we can go. Or if anything concerning starts happening.” You feel your baby girl moving around, a sign that everything is okay and nothing is wrong. 

“Okay. Is the bath helping at least?” 

“A little, it’s the closest I’m probably going to get to sleeping for the next few days, so I’ll take what I can get.” You run your hand through the bubbles sitting on top of the water. “You can go get some sleep, though. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

“No, I’ll stay with you. If you’re sleep deprived, I will be too.” Nate shakes his head, and you rest your head further into his side. 

Nothing happens until three am.

You and Nate are downstairs taking laps around the living room when your water breaks. Luckily, you had opted to wear a sanitary pad, so the damage to your clothes wasn’t too bad. Then it’s go time. 

Nate checks the hospital bag one last time while you change into some new clothes. Your mom pokes her head out of the guest bedroom door, blinking a few times. 

“My water broke, Momma. We’re going to the hospital now. Nate will call you once labor processes more, go back to sleep.” You whisper, and you can see the smile spreading across her face. 

“My baby is having her baby.” You can see the tears in her eyes, “You’ll do amazing, honey. Remind Nate to keep us updated. All four of us will want to be there as soon as possible.” 

You give her a long hug, “I’ll make sure he does.”

“Good, now off you go.”

You walk back down the stairs and make your way into the garage. Nate helps you into the car, and you begin the drive to the hospital.

•••

You finally get some sleep when they administer your epidural. Nate rests on the chair next to your bed, but doesn’t get much sleep himself. He’d hoped that finally seeing you out of some of your pain would help him relax, but the time until your daughter joins you two in this world is slowly approaching, and the anticipation is ruining his chances of sleeping. 

“Go to sleep, Nate.” You murmur, peeking your eyes open slightly. 

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes, I can hear your thoughts in my sleep. You are exuding anxiety right now. Just try to sleep a little, please? I’m fine, the baby is fine, you’re fine.” You look over at him, thumb running over his knuckles gently. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just getting so close. She’s gonna be here soon.”

“I know, but we’re still a few hours off from that. Sleep for now, I’ll wake you up if anything changes.” You let your eyes close again, trying to get some shut-eye. 

Nate does eventually fall asleep, a measly two hours, but enough to rejuvenate him for the actual birthing process. The nurse walks in to check your progress, while Nate is holding your hand, pushing your hair away from your damp forehead. 

“Well, Mama, you’re 9 centimeters dilated, we’ll come back in about thirty minutes to see if you made it to full dilation.”

“Okay.” You nod and rest your head back against the pillows. She covers your legs with the blankets and leaves both of you alone. “I thought this would be faster.”

“It’s been 12 hours at this point.” Nate looks at the clock, realizing that it’s now 5 in the morning. 

“This is taking a long time. Like I knew it would, but it’s still a shock.” 

“Yeah, I thought once your water broke, it would be quicker.” Nate sits back into the chair, “Do you need anything? Like ice chips or to walk around?”

“Ice chips would be good.” You nod, and Nate walks out the door, but not before kissing your sweaty forehead, not that it matters to him. 

You reach for your phone and see that your messages have blown up. 

MELISSA LANDESKOG

You’re gonna do great Y/N!  I’m sending all of my love to you, Nate and Baby MacKinnon! 🩷

TRACY MAKAR

Happy Labor Day! Can’t wait to meet the little one soon!

SID

Nate texted saying you were in labor, and as Godfather (don’t deny it, you both know she’s going to be my goddaughter), I sent a care package in the mail. All the essentials for Baby N and you, can’t wait to meet her in the summer!

MOM

Love you, sweetheart. Text me or have Nate text Dad and me once you feel comfortable having visitors.

KATHY

Just woke up to Nate’s texts. I know your mom will have sent something similar, but text us once you’re ready for visitors!

DAD

We love you and Nate so much, can’t wait to meet my granddaughter. 

YOUR SISTER

I’ve booked my flights, and I will be in Denver tomorrow!  Good luck with everything.  I can't wait to meet my niece!

SARAH

Nate just texted and said you were in labor! I’m going to try to get to Denver as soon as possible! Tell her Aunt Sarah says hi, and I’ll spoil her once I get to see her!

Nate comes back with a cup of ice chips and a coffee for himself. Probably black with no cream or sugar, slightly psychotic in your opinion, but you have the biggest sweet tooth, so anything without sugar in it is an abomination to you. 

“Rubbing it in my face, aren’t you?” You take the ice chips from him and pop one into your mouth. 

“I don’t mean to baby.” He’s being very sweet about it.

“I know you don’t, but my body is being kept awake by the worst cramps of my life, basically.” You set your phone back onto the table, “I would love caffeine instead right about now.”

Nate laughs and sets the cup down, “I would happily give you some, but I’m afraid the nurse would disapprove.”

“I know she would. They run a tight ship around here.” Your phone buzzes, and you look at the notification.

“Who is it?”

“Your dad. He’s saying what the rest have been saying. Good luck and tell us when the baby is here so we can see her.” You turn off your phone again. “Also, Sid is sending a care package. Said it was his duty as our daughter's godfather.” 

“He gave himself the title already, huh?” Nate raises an eyebrow. 

“He wasn’t wrong though, he is her godfather.” You shrug.

“Yeah he’s very intuitive.” 

“Oh fuck.” You feel another contraction coming on, and Nate grabs your hand. “We’ve got to be close.”

“Should I grab the nurse?” He asks, and you nod. Everything about this contraction feels like it’s go time. 

“Please.”

“He comes back quickly, your labor and delivery nurse trailing right behind him. “Alright, Mama, let’s take a look. Yep, you are fully dilated. I’ll grab the doctor, and we’ll begin the process of bringing your baby into the world.”

“Is this really happening?” You look up at Nate, bleary-eyed. 

“Yeah, it is, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Me neither.” You chuckle wetly, “Oh God, I’m not ready, Nate.”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Now it was his turn to talk you off a ledge, “We’ve got this, more importantly, you got this. In a little bit, we’re gonna finally be able to hold our daughter. In real life, she’s going to be real, and she’ll be ours to love and cherish forever.”

“You’re right.” Another contraction comes, and your body feels an overwhelming urge to push. “I need the doctor now.”

“We’re back,” The nurse says cheerfully, your OB, Dr. Jeffries flocking just behind. 

“Let’s see your progress, Y/N.” She props your feet up and flips up the blanket, “Oh yes, it’s time to start pushing. Dad go stand by her head and take her hand.”

Nate follows her directions and takes your hand, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your forehead. “I’m here, baby.”

“When you feel the next contraction, I’m going to need you to push as hard as possible.”

“Okay.” You nod and take some deep breaths.

“Alright and push.” Dr. Jeffries urges, and you bear down. 

You let out a grunt, the pressure of your baby moving through the birthing canal a strange sensation that you’ve never felt before. Nate flinches as you squeeze the hell out of his hand, but it’s not his place to complain while you’re going through the miracle of childbirth. 

“Relax now.” You let out a breath as the contraction slows to a stop. “You’re doing well, Y/N. I’m starting to see the baby's head.”

“You think I could be one of those women who gets this done in 15 minutes?” You try to catch your breath. 

“It’s possible, but since this is your first, it could take up to an hour.” Dr. Jeffries replies, and you lean your head back against the pillows. 

“14-hour labor, not the worst I’ve heard o- fuck me!” You begin, but are cut off by the contraction. 

“Alright, another big push.” You death-grip Nate’s arm. “Good job, Mama.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can, baby, you’ve got this. You’re doing so well.” Nate kisses your temple. He wants this to be over for you. He can tell you’re in pain, and he would do anything to make it better for you. 

You continue to push for the next fifty minutes, and the feeling that you’ve made little progress has you exhausted. Nate wipes your forehead with a towel and helps pull your hair away from your face. He detangles your hair and puts it into a haphazard braid. You’ll teach him how to do it better, but for just learning how to do it, he’s pretty good. 

“Thank you, baby.” You take some deep breaths. 

“No problem.”

“Two more big pushes, Mama, then your baby will be here.” Nate settles back by your head, and you grip his forearm. “Give me a push now.”

You let out a groan as the next contraction hits, “God, let this be over, please.”

“You’re really close, Mama. We just got to get her shoulders out.” Dr. Jeffries says, and you give a weak nod, you’ve been pushing for nearly an hour, and the exhaustion is evident in your body. 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” 

“I need this baby out.” You grunt as another contraction comes on. 

“Last push Mama.” 

“Oh my god! Fucking hell!” You push hard, and Dr. Jeffries helps get your baby out the rest of the way. 

“She’s here!” She exclaims, and a piercing cry emits from your daughter. All the exhaustion, pain, and pure joy come out of you in a happy sob, “Do you want to cut the umbilical cord, Dad?”

“Yes.” Nate moves from your head to your feet.

“Cut here. Then we’ll give her to mom.” She directs, and Nate uses the scissors to cut where Dr. Jeffries has pointed. “There you go.”

The nurse cleans your baby girl before moving to the head of the bed and placing her on your chest. Tears immediately flood your eyes as she squirms against your skin. 

“She’s perfect.” Your hand strokes her head, “Hi, baby girl, I’m your momma.”

You scoot over on the hospital bed, and Nate sits down next to you. His hand comes up to her back, stroking the soft baby skin. 

“And I’m your dad.” Tears fill Nate’s eyes, his arm comes to rest around your shoulders, “She's definitely perfect.”

“I never want to let her go.” You press a kiss to her baby-soft head.

“She’s real now. Like she’s actually here.” Nate tilts your chin up and captures your lips in a tender kiss. “Our girl.”

“Niamh Regina MacKinnon.” 

“Hi Niamh, it's nice to finally meet you.” Nate presses a kiss to her head as well.

“We’re gonna love you forever.”

“Forever.”

•••

Any time that Niamh spends outside of your arms, you feel like you’re missing a limb. There’s this ever-present ache anytime you’re apart from her, Nate texted both of your parents to head over to the hospital. One of the nurses helps you change out of the hospital gown and into some more comfy pajamas. Your legs are very wobbly, and every muscle in your body is on fire as Nate helps you back into bed. 

“Alright, Mom and Dad, your baby is all cleaned and ready for others to begin showing up.” The nurse places Niamh, all swaddled, in your arms. “She was 9 pounds and 3 ounces and 19.7 inches long, so definitely on the bigger side. She passed everything on the APGAR test and is overall a very healthy baby.”

“What time was she born?” You ask and cradle Niamh close to your chest. 

“6:41 am. A very early morning baby. You’re now free to eat food and drink coffee. All of the things. I’ll be back to check in on you and baby in an hour or so.” The nurse nods, “Oh, before I leave, does Baby Girl MacKinnon have a name?”

“Yes, Niamh Regina.” 

“That’s beautiful. Can I have a spelling for that?” She asks.

“N. I. A. M. H. R. E. G. I. N. A.” You spell it out for her before smiling down at Niamh, finger brushing over the curve of her nose. 

“Thank you, I’ll leave you guys alone for now.” The nurse leaves, and you look over at Nate. 

“Your turn, my love.” You look over at him, and his arms instinctively go out.

“She’s so small,” Nate holds her so delicately. 

“She did not feel small when she was inside of me.” You laugh. “Oh my god, I’m so hungry.”

“I bet your parents will bring you anything.” He smiles and sits down in the chair next to your bed. 

“They would. I want a full American breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, the whole works.” You feel your mouth watering as you think about food. You grab your phone off the table to text your parents, but not before you snap a few quick photos of Nate holding Niamh. 

You shoot off a text to your parents, and Nate’s letting them know that they’re free to come to the hospital. You three get twenty more minutes of peace before the two sets of parents come waltzing into the hospital room. 

“Oh my god, isn’t she precious!” Your mother coos and looks at the baby in Nate’s arms, “What’s her name?”

“Niamh Regina.”

“The elusive initials finally have a name.” She smiles and makes her way over to you. “And how are you, sweetheart?”

“I'm good, Mom.” You give a soft grin.

“Did everything go okay during the birth?”

“Yeah, nothing concerning, it just took forever.” Your mom laughs and strokes your head.

“You took 17 hours when we had you.” She pulls a brush from the bag she brought and removes the braid that Nate did. There are a lot of knots in your hair, but she manages to get the tangles out and puts it into a cleaner braid. “There.”

“Thank you.”

“Your parents are on their way, Nate. They just stopped to get breakfast for all of us.” Your dad closes the door behind him and makes his way over to see the baby. “Look at her, she looks exactly like you as a baby, sweetheart.”

“She does?” You tilt your head.

“Same pout, cute nose, and face scrunch. She looks exactly like you.” He boops her nose, and she shifts in Nate’s arms. 

“We come bearing food!” Kathy announces, and Graham comes in behind her. “Oh, look at her! She’s gorgeous.”

“Niamh Regina,” Nate repeats her name, and his mom strokes the top of her head. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful, absolutely perfect for her.” Kathy wipes a few tears and turns back to you, “How are you, honey?”

“Hungry and exhausted, but so happy.”

“Well, I don’t want to take her from your arms so soon, but Gramma wants to hold Little Miss Niamh.” Your mom asks, and Nate nods. Niamh is settled into your mom’s arms, and she bounces your baby gently. “Look at her.”

“I know, could I eat some food?” You look over at Graham.

“Of course, Y/N.” He pulls out the to-go boxes of food, and your mouth waters again. 

“I am famished.” You open a box to see hot pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon. “This looks so good.”

“Eat up, honey. You deserve it.” Kathy hands one of the boxes to Nate, and you see him indulge in trans fats and sugar for the first time all season. “Not counting calories today, hon?”

“No, we’ve been up for over 36 hours. I can’t even think about a meal plan right now.” Nate shakes his head.

Everyone lets out a laugh, and you continue to eat your food. Niamh is passed around between parents before making her way back to you. Once your girl is settled back into your arms, you suddenly feel very whole again. 

“Oh, Nate, honey, sit on the bed. I want to get a picture for Facebook.” Your mom fumbles for her phone. 

“Mom, please don’t post it on Facebook. I want it to keep Niamh’s face out of the media.”

“Then it’ll just be for the family pictures.” Your mom nods, and Nate sits down next to you on the hospital bed. “Look at the three of you, the perfect little family.”

“We are.” Nate agrees and places a hand on Niamh’s back while pulling you closer with his other arm. 

“Smile.” You both do, and your mom snaps the picture. “Perfect.”

“Yeah, perfect.” You look up at Nate, and he’s smiling down at you.

Within a matter of hours, you were suddenly holding the whole world in your hands.

🔒 yn_ln-mackinnon

my love mine all mine • mitski

liked by mackinnon29, tracymakar_ and 341 others

yn_ln-mackinnon one week late but miss niamh regina mackinnon is here!

view all 45 comments

a/n - i yearn to have a family of my own lol

[pearlandemerald]

Beckett Sennecke 🫦

[pearlandemerald]

hey hi hello uh what do you use to make the fake messages ?? Pls do tell I’m struggling writing my SMAU 💔

I’m happy to help! I’ll also link this response on my navigation page just so people can find my answers easily!

Chat Tales - I use this app for individual texts between characters, and it does pretty realistic DMs on instagram. It’s pretty easy to navigate but you can’t do more than one character without paying.

Memi Messages - this app I use exclusively to do group chats between multiple people. It’s not as detailed as Chat Tales but it works for the purpose of group chats.

I hope this helps! If you have any more questions let me know!

[bedsyszn77]

Unexpected Meetings - CB98

Connor Bedard x Makar!reader

Series masterlist!

Authors note: I’m so excited to start this little series! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I am 🫶 if you have any questions or requests let me know!!

October 2024

It was mid October in Denver and you had no idea what to get your brother for his birthday. Because, what do you get for the guy who has two Norris trophies and his name etched on the Stanley Cup?

You had come up with the most logical plan at the time; asking Cale directly. That had been all for nothing, because he insisted you didn’t buy him anything, despite you practically begging for ideas of stuff he needed or wanted. Desperate for an idea you had went to Tracey, Cale's wife. She had said he was always needing new golf gear. So, with a plan beginning to form, you found yourself at the pga store. Lost as your first day of school at University of Denver. You had played golf before, but it wasn’t like you were an expert by any means. 

You had gone there hoping to get him a polo or two, but when you saw the rangefinders on sale, an idea formed. Now, you were standing in the middle of the aisle. Spending way too much time looking at the different options. Glancing behind you, you saw what you could only assume was an employee.

You hesitated slightly.

“Excuse me?” You asked, rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

He turned, and you felt heat bloom across your face.

Oh wow.

Oh. Wow.

 He was undoubtedly handsome, and for a second your mind went blank. You could’ve sworn you had seen him before. Maybe he was in one of your college classes last year? Or maybe he was someone you had seen at an Avs game? No, you didn’t think you had seen him there.

“Do you work here by chance? I’m not that knowledgeable about golf.” You laughed nervously.

A small grin formed on his face. “Oh, no I don’t work here.” 

Your face felt like it was on fire, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. Why did you have to be such an amazing younger sister? It was really starting to bite you in the ass right now. But to your defense, he was wearing a plain black shirt like the rest of the employees. And he was examining the different gloves like it was his job. 

“Oh my god.” You rushed out, “I am so sorry. I thought you worked here.” 

He laughed slightly. “No worries. Do you need help with something? I’m not an expert but maybe I can help.” 

“Are you sure? I feel bad.” 

“No, yeah, I’m sure. What’re you looking for?” He glanced down at your basket with the two polos, and you felt yourself wanting him to know it was for your brother and not a boyfriend.

“Well, it’s my brother's birthday soon and I thought about getting him one of these, maybe.” You gestured to the rangefinders. “But I have no clue what the best one is.” 

“A rangefinder?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Well, unless it's, like, completely unnecessary.”  

“No it’s not unnecessary, but people usually use watches or apps on their phones.” He explained.

“Oh, so he definitely already does that then.” You sighed, feeling like an utter fool in front of a ridiculously handsome guy.

“What about headcovers?” He suggested, “I’m pretty sure they have a bunch, and you can’t go wrong with those.” 

“Okay, yeah.” You nodded. 

“Do you want help picking one out?” He blushed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be like weird or anything.”

“No you’re not being weird.” You reassured him. “I’d actually really appreciate that.” 

“I’m Connor.” He extended his hand out in a greeting. 

“Nice to meet you, Connor. I’m y/n.” You shook his hand, trying not to blush when his hand lingered for a second too long.

You fell into small talk while you walked to the aisle. You found out he was your age. You told him you were in your sophomore year of college, majoring in media and public communications at University of Denver. He said that you must be smart then. Your cheeks had gone pink and all you could do was shake your head.

“Holy shit.” You said, eyes wide as you glanced at the amount of headcovers they had. “There’s a million.” 

Connor laughed beside you. “Definitely a lot of options.” He agreed. 

You walked down the aisle, looking at all of them. There were animals, colleges, hockey teams, basketball, football, and more that you couldn’t name.

“What’s your brother into? Basketball, hockey, football, something else?” He asked.

You laughed slightly at the idea of Cale just casually enjoying hockey. “He’s a big hockey guy.” You told him vaguely. 

Connor grinned, like he knew something you didn’t. Grabbing a Chicago Blackhawks headcover, he held it up to show you.

You laughed, “I think he would actually kill me if I got him a hawks one.”

“Not a hawks fan, eh?”

 

“Definitely not.” You agreed.

“I guess he’s probably an Avs fan?” He guessed.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You smiled. Stopping in your tracks when you saw a headcover you knew Cale would like. “Oh this is perfect.” 

“That’s the one?” Connor asked, next to you. 

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you for helping me.” You told him. “And sorry I thought you were an employee.”

“It’s all good. I promise.”

“Can I buy you dinner or coffee or something?” You rushed out. A sudden burst of confidence rushing over you. You didn’t want to never see Connor again, that was for sure. Cale had a game tonight, but it wasn’t like you had to be there.

He winced slightly, opening his mouth, but you kept going. “It’s okay if not. Or if I read the vibes wrong. Or if you think I’m just annoying. Or—I’ll shut up now.” You laughed anxiously.

“No, no you definitely didn’t read the vibes wrong. I was hoping I wasn’t imagining it.” He smiled. “But I’m only here for today, and I have work stuff tonight for a bit, but I’m free after if you’d be down.”

Your smile faltered, but nonetheless you nodded. He hadn’t necessarily shut you down. “Yeah, I’m down.”

“Can I get your number?” He asked, cheeks going pink as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

“Of course.” You entered your number into his phone. “So, where are you from then?” 

“I live in Chicago right now for work.” He told you.

The pieces of the puzzle started to take shape. He looked familiar to you, lived in Chicago, and was here for only a bit. Coincidentally the same time the Chicago Blackhawks would be playing the Avs here in Denver. 

You were almost ninety percent positive he played, or at least worked for the Blackhawks. It was either that, or you were going mentally insane. 

“Oh really? I travel there for work sometimes.” You said, which wasn’t technically a lie—you had an internship with the Avs digital marketing and media your freshman and now sophomore year of college as well. The internship had been a perfect opportunity that you ended up falling in love with.

“Yeah? I guess you’ll have to text me when you’re in town.” He said, smiling. 

“I guess I will.” You grinned back.

You exchanged goodbyes, with Connor promising to text you later that night. 

The actual pga store employees probably wondered why you had a grin on your face all the way until you got into your car. But you didn’t care. A feeling of excitement for tonight was flowing through your body. Especially when you glanced at your phone and saw the ‘hey :) it’s Connor’ text.

***

The Ball Arena was roaring with the sound of over seventeen thousand people all cheering for the Avs. Puck drop was in a few minutes and the players had just got back on the ice.

You sat in the lower bowl, courtesy of Cale. You didn’t have to do anything tonight for the media. That was on some of the other interns to do. It was one of the first home games, and you could tell the crowd was ecstatic.

When the lights dimmed, you glanced up at the Jumbotron and let out a choked gasp. Connor—the same Connor that you were going out with that very night—was front and center on the screen. All the information you had of him pointed to him being a hockey player, you shouldn’t have been overly surprised. But seeing him in front of you with a Blackhawks jersey put it all into perspective.

Wow.

Wow.

He looked amazing, his bucket was off and his eyes were closed. The National anthem played, but all you could focus on was him down there on the ice, shifting his weight back and forth. Right there in the Blackhawks line up. You hadn’t really followed other hockey teams the past few years. Only focusing on your brothers and their teams. 

The first period had dragged on, with both teams getting chances to score. But by the end of the first period the game was still 0-0. You had watched Cale play, but your eyes drifted to Connor more often than not. 

He was insane on the ice. 

The confidence that he had in himself was incredible. He was making plays and setting up opportunities for his teammates. You could tell he genuinely loved what he did, grinning with his teammate Nazar on the ice. 

The game had a slower pace to it, but ultimately the Avs won 2-1, with Connor being the only Blackhawks player to score. You knew Cale would ask you to go out with the team for dinner. You had two options; come clean right there and tell him you were going out with the same guy he had just beat, or tell him you weren’t feeling very good. You went with the latter. 

Your phone buzzed and you glanced down to see Connor’s name. 

Connor

Are you still down for tonight? I’ll be done with my stuff in about 30 ish minutes and I can meet you wherever

You

Yeah I’m still down. 

You paused, deciding to mess with him slightly.

You

Hope you shower before. You played really good out there tonight 

He read it instantly. The chat bubble appeared, then disappeared, appeared again, and finally he texted back.

Connor

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. That wasn’t cool of me. I understand if you don’t wanna get dinner with me

You

It’s not a big deal. We can get to know each other officially at dinner :)

Connor

I’d like that. 

Thanks for not being weird about it, I really appreciate it

You

Of course 

I understand how weird people can get

Connor

Thank you again

Okay I’m gonna hurry up and shower so I can meet you

Send me the address?

You

Just text when you’re done 

I can wait in the parking lot if you’re good with that

 

Connor

Are you sure you don’t mind doing that??

You

Not at all!

Plus I usually hang out around here a bit after the games

Connor

Sounds good!

You smiled to yourself, Cale was absolutely going to kill you when he found out. But that would be your future self’s issue, not today’s. Right now, you didn’t care what Cale would think. Your only concern was if your car was cleaned out enough. 

[pearlandemerald]

[aftersunsz]

HOUSE TARGARYEN (NATHAN MACKINNON)

summary: a new generation of targaryens are introduced and nathan mackinnon just so happens to be dating the actress that portrays princess alyssa targaryen

an: and we’re back with my welcome to hollywood series!! so sorry for the sudden disappearance :( but we’re back!! you can probably tell i got a little carried away with the lore here but that’s what fanfiction is about 😝 might actually do a baelor fic with this targ lore idk yet but let me know if y’all would be down to read :)

warnings: targcest mentioned (yikes!!) small mention of a fictional character’s miscarriage (lmk if i missed anything else!!)

welcome to hollywood series

—

Belfast

June 2024

Nathan watched as the makeup artist did the finishing touches on your makeup. You were already in full costume and had your signature Targaryen platinum blonde wig. Now you were filming the arrival of the Targaryens in Ashford.

“You look really good in that wig.” Nathan commented from his spot in your chair that had your name printed on the back.

“I’m not dyeing my hair if that’s what you’re suggesting,” you laugh along with the makeup artist. “I’m fine with my regular hair.”

“You’d look good with any hair color.” Nathan replied. Soon you were told filming would start in a minute. After saying goodbye to Nate and leaving with the makeup artist, you were now inside of a carriage with the child actor who was playing your daughter.

Nate watched from behind the camera as filming started. He payed close attention when it was your time to appear on the screen. In character, you approached Lord Ashford and stood next to your ‘husband’, keeping your ‘daughter’ close by. A thousand thoughts were running through Nate’s mind.

She looks so good. I can’t believe I’m dating her. She looks ethereal.

After finishing the scene, you immediately praised the little girl playing your daughter. She didn’t have that many lines, but you still celebrated her performance. “You’re crushing it, love.” You gave her a quick high five.

There was a small break since one of the cameras wasn’t working properly so you went back to Nate. As you approached him, he took a quick picture of you in your dress. When you noticed, you smiled at him then quickly got shy when he kept taking photos.

“Theres my princess.” Nathan wanted to give you a kiss real bad, but he didn’t want to mess up your makeup.

“Future Queen Alyssa Targaryen.” You clarified.

“Now I want to see that happen. Where the creator of the show? I need to have a talk with him. I need to see Queen Alyssa.” Nathan teased.

“Keep dreaming, my love. If you’ve read the book, Queen Alyssa dies of a broken heart. It’s tragic. First she lost her husband during the trial of seven, then remarries but she’s unhappy then she becomes a widow again and she couldn’t take the loss so she passes away,” You took a seat in your chair and used the fan provided by the makeup department. “If I had the chance to have her have a happy ending, I would take it. She deserved a good ending.”

“Not all of it was depressing. Didn’t she have that one on one moment with Maekar’s son who became king?” Nathan’s words caught you by surprise.

“What are you talking about?” You questioned.

“There’s a scene after Egg is crowned and he finds Alyssa in her room and he comforts her and if I remember correctly, Alyssa tells some sort of joke that gets her laughing so hard, she almost passes out from laughing. It’s the first time she’s laughed in years.” Nathan said as if it was common knowledge.

“Nate . . .” You couldn’t believe he remembered.

“What? I read,” He shrugged. “You’ve been talking about this role since you got the call to send in your audition so I ordered all the books and read them during flights. I know this character means a lot to you so I wanted to know what happens to her.”

In the background, you heard the producers call all the actors back on set. You quickly places a chaste kiss on Nate’s lips. “Have I ever told you that you’re the perfect man?”

“You’re really going to call me that and leave me here? Babe, you’re killing me here.”

—

—

January 2026

liked by mackinnon29, hbomax and others

yourusername princess alyssa targaryen 🖤 a knight of the seven kingdoms is now available to watch!

mackinnon29 my favorite princess

bmarch63 where’s your dragon?

targaryensthrone um actually there’s no dragons in the show because they’re all gone because of the dance of the dragons ☝🏼🤓

bmarch63 boooo 👎🏼

yourusername get out old man

avscup just watched the first episode and dare I say it’s better than house of the dragon 🧍🏻‍♀️

targlover can’t believe baelor and alyssa become king and queen and live happily ever after 🥰

teamblackstan bro is going through the five stages of grief and the show just started

load more comments

liked by nhl, drat_29 and others

mackinnon29 i heard the best princess in all of the seven kingdoms is in this

yourusername princess alyssa’s number one fan

puckknowledge if you think you’re princess alyssa’s number one fan, you are mistaken. that title belongs to nathan mackinnon

sidnate_8729 this means so much to me

load more comments

—

February 2026

@xreader1989

[pearlandemerald]

I’ve never been this stressed about sports until hockey came into my life. FML 🤦‍♀️

[belli5]

DAMNED TO LOVING YOUᵎᵎ WS²

╰ Synopsis You never meant to fall for a younger guy, especially not the one who happened to be your friends younger brother. Will doesn’t waste his time to get to know you and a night after getting jealous, it leads to a night you two will never forget.

tags/contains Will Smith x fem!reader. Fluff, angst, smut. Older!reader, slight age gap (2 years), slow burn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealous Will, friends brother, use of y/n, smut, 18+, NSFW, oral (f receiving), p in v, porn with plot, marking, just all of freaky stuff, 3.9k words, requested.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. These new photos and edits of Will got me wet asf 👅

masteerlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!

When you met Grace on a night out with your friend, you didn’t expect the two of you to grow so close.

It was one of your first nights out as a newly minted 21 year old. You’d only brought your closest friend with you to the club to keep things lowkey. You weaved through the crowded floor, drink in hand, when you accidentally bumped into a pretty blonde girl.

To your surprise and thankful, she laughed instead of getting annoyed, and the two of you ended up chatting at the bar for nearly an hour. By the end of the night, you exchanged numbers with the promise of “we should hang sometime”.

You hadn’t taken it too seriously at first, she was a few years older than you so you were sure she’d grow bored of you. But after a couple of coffee dates, the two of you realised how close you’d gotten and despite the small age gap, it felt like you’d known each other forever.

On midsummer Grace invited you over to her family’s house for a casual backyard celebration. Saying how there would be only a few people, mostly her family, her parents, her younger brother. Adding the fact that he’s 19 and how you might have to deal with him.

You’d shrugged it off with a laugh. Younger guys had never been your type, especially not your friend’s little brother. The idea barely registered as you agreed, excited more about spending time with Grace than anything else.

And that’s what you thought too. Until the moment you pulled up to the Smith family’s house that evening. Grace greeted you at the door with a bright hug, handing you a cold drink before tugging you through the house and out into the sunlit yard. She guided you through the yard, until your eyes landed on the blond.

He was taller than you’d pictured, with messy blond hair catching the golden light, he was shirtless and yes, you didn’t mean to look at how nice his abs were, but you couldn’t help it when your eyes kept looking. He was undeniably attractive but that was it.

The first few times you came over after that, each visit chipped away at your indifference. The way his blue eyes stared at you a second too long, his voice when he asked about your day, how his laugh seemed deeper when it was directed at you.

He was handsome, handsome type that crept up on you until you found yourself noticing every feature of his. The way his shirts stretched across his chest, the flex of muscle in his arms when he reached for something.

And it didn’t take long for Will to make his move. That summer, during yet another gathering, he caught you alone by the side of the house grabbing another drink from the cooler. He leaned against the wall, giving you a smile showing his all 32. “Hey.. since you’re around so much, mind if I get your number?” he asked. “Just in case.”

You smiled and handed it over. The thought of you thinking it was ‘just in case’ crossed Will’s mind of course, but Will knew it wasn’t just that.

Will started texting you like two nights after asking for your number. Firstly he started telling you about training, questions about your favourite songs, what you were doing on the weekends and lastly he soon started texting you good morning messages.

You honestly even kept waiting for the guilt to hit so you’d text Grace and say, “Hey, your brother won’t stop messaging me” but the time never came because you enjoyed it more than you wanted to admit. Some nights you even caught yourself typing first, heart picking up when his reply popped up within seconds or sometimes when you thought he wouldn’t reply and you’d embarrass yourself.

Grace had seen the two of you on your phones more than once, eyebrows raised but she never pushed. And you convinced yourself she didn’t suspect anything.

Without Grace around as a buffer, Will was different. And by the time you were close friends, you started to suspect maybe he was into you.

Will was aware of you being older. He knew from the start the way older guys gravitated toward you like moths to a flame. Confident men in their twenties and beyond, with their careers and effortless charm, lingered at bars or parties whenever you were around.

He couldn’t blame them really, the way you carried yourself with assurance that came from having a few more years of life figured out, and it was magnetic.

Will knew you shut most of them down politely, only letting a guy buy you a drink if it was harmless and your friends were there. Will told himself he could do that too, hell, he wanted to be the one getting you drinks, pulling out your chair, making you laugh until your eyes crinkled at the corners.

But not because he was trying to play catchup, but because he wanted your attention on his terms. As himself. The version of him that lit up when you texted first, the one who remembered your favorite flowers and told you things he wouldn’t really tell anyone else.

Being younger meant he got reminded of the gap constantly. Girls your age were supposed to want someone established, someone who didn’t still get carded at certain bars. Will felt it every time you got approached in public. He started positioning himself behind you at gatherings or nights out, his chest sometimes brushing your back, his hand sometimes ghosting near your waist.

And when he thought his jealousy couldn’t get worse, it hit hardest the night you visited him in San Jose.

The sharks had just pulled off a win, Will had texted you to wait by the side exit where a few players sometimes stopped for quick autographs. As he promised he won’t be too long.

You stood near the door, scrolling on your phone, paying little attention to the thinning crowd. Until a tap on your shoulder made you turn. Celebrini stood there, offering a friendly smile. “Hey, you waiting for Will? You’re his friend, right?”

You nodded, returning the smile. “Yeah, that’s me. Oh, you’re Macklin, great game tonight, by the way. I’ve seen you play pretty much, I think you’re amazing.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, cheeks slightly reddening at the thought of talking about himself. “Appreciate it. It’s kinda crazy Will left you standing out here alone, though.”

You laughed lightly, shrugging. “No, it’s totally fine. I don’t mind waiting, and now I’m not really alone.” The words were appreciative, your tone warm as you chatted with him.

Will had stepped out just in time to catch the exchange, he froze a few feet away, his bag slung over his shoulder. Macklin’s comment sank deeper than it should have, he knew it wasn’t anything overtly flirty, but to Will it echoed every online comparison he’d seen.

Social media loved pitting them against each other, and in Will’s mind, it always circled back to you. You were stunning, confident, older so why wouldn’t you look at Macklin and see exactly what you were “supposed” to want?

Now that you were 23 and Will had turned 21, the season had ended on a bittersweet note, and you found yourself on yet another visit to San Jose.

By now you were one hundred percent sure Grace suspected something. Every time you mentioned flying out to see Will, her responses was anything along, “have fun with my brother” or “tell Will I said hi.. and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She never judged you, and if anything, she seemed supportive.

Will had offered you his place since Macklin was away for the worlds, leaving the apartment empty. He suggested going out for drinks with a few of his friends tonight, and you agreed. Why stay cooped up alone when you could watch him laugh under the lights?

The group was lively at first, but after an hour or so, his friends started peeling off with a smirk. “Oh, we know,” one of them said something along those lines, with a wink as they grabbed their jackets. “We’ll leave you two to it.”

You both kept it light tonight, a couple of well made cocktails sat between you, fruity and refreshing. The conversation flowed easily, until eventually Will excused himself joking about how alcohol pee hits different and quickly went to the bathroom.

He wasn’t gone long, the men’s line moved fast, and he was heading back toward your seats less than three minutes later. But when his eyes found your spot at the bar, his steps faltered.

Some guy was now sitting in his stool. He was leaning in, saying something that made you laugh. A fresh drink sat in front of you, condensation already beading on the glass. You looked entertained, polite but engaged, nodding along as the stranger gestured.

Will’s stomach dropped. He had thought you were past this. Past letting guys buy you drinks just because they could. He believed you were finally enjoying his company enough that you didn’t need the attention from anyone else and apparently he’d been wrong.

The jealousy he’d carried since the start, flared hot and ugly in his chest. Maybe this is it, he thought bitterly. Maybe you really are just Grace’s friend, and that’s all you’ll ever see me as. The younger brother who’s fun to text but not enough to choose.

But who was he fooling? If you turned around right now and asked him to do something, he’d do it without hesitation like a damn puppy, tail wagging, heart fully invested. That’s how deep he was in this.

Will sighed and made his way back to the bar. His eyes locked on you immediately, and yours found him just as fast. Something changed in your expression but he pushed forward anyway.

“Excuse me,” Will said, voice edged. “Mind if I get my seat back?”

The guy turned, eyebrows raised. “Your seat-?”

“He’s here with me, actually,” you cut in, gesturing toward Will with a small smile. The stranger looked between you two, then shrugged.

“Well, okay then. I’ll see you around.” He slid off the stool and disappeared into the crowd.

Will sat down, but the easy joy from earlier had vanished. Every time you tried to restart the conversation, he answered with short, clipped responses.

You realized quickly that he was annoyed. “Will, do you want to go home?” you asked softly after another one word reply.

He nodded once. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The uber ride back to his apartment was quiet. As soon as you stepped inside, Will headed straight for the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water like he needed something to do with his hands.

You followed, leaning against the counter. “Will, is there something wrong?”

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “It’s just funny, I guess. You’re out with me and then some guy buys you a drink right in front of me.”

You stepped closer until you were standing right in front of him, tilting your head up to catch his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

His cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not-”

“You definitely are,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Before he could deny it again, you leaned up slowly, brushing your lips against his in tease. That was all it took, Will’s restraint snapped. He pushed forward, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the tension finally broke open between you.

You pushed your body flush against his until your hips met, feeling the hard line of him straining against his jeans. His hands slid slowly down from your waist to your ass, grabbing a generous handful and squeezing hard enough to make you moan into his mouth.

His fingers dug into your thighs next, patting them in a clear signal. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Will turned, not breaking the kiss and set you down on the kitchen counter. You slid your hands up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair as he pressed forward between your spread legs.

He kissed down your jaw to your neck, sucking a dark love bite just below your ear before soothing the sting with his tongue. You gasped, tugging at his hair, hips rolling instinctively against him.

“Will..” you breathed.

He hummed against your skin, hands roaming greedily under your shirt. But you wanted more than the kitchen counter, so you pushed him back gently and jumped down, taking his hand and tugged him along.

Will followed for only a few steps before his patience broke. He scooped you up bridal style without warning, making you laugh breathlessly as he carried you faster down the short hallway.

Will laid you down gently on the bed, your head sinking into the pillows as he hovered over you, propped up on his elbows. One hand cradled your chin, while the other slipped under your shirt, warm palm gliding over your stomach.

He leaned back in, kissing you deeply. Your tongues meeting hot, the taste of cocktails and pent up longing mixing between you. You sighed into his mouth, fingers tracing the muscles of his back.

Will pulled away just long enough to sit up on his knees and tug his shirt over his head. Your mouth watered at the sight, you’d known he was attractive since the first time you saw it, but this was different. His body had filled out even more from the extra gym work, his tempting v line disappearing into his jeans.

He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, not in your arms.

You sat up, taking his wrist and guiding his hand to the hem of your shirt. He understood instantly and pulled it over your head, revealing the red lace bra underneath. Will’s eyes widened, his lips parting.

Will swore this was the best thing he’d seen in his life. He skipped everything else because no one compared and now that you were here, looking like this, he knew he didn’t deserve it but he was so fucking grateful.

He asked shyly, “Can I take it off?”

You nodded. His fingers fumbled with the clasp for a moment, his nerves and eagerness making him clumsy until it finally gave way. He tossed the bra aside and eased you back onto the pillows.

His mouth found your neck again, then trailed lower, kissing across your collarbone before reaching your breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue swirling. The moan that escaped you seemed to encourage him.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he murmured against your skin, and continued downward, lips brushing over your stomach. When he reached the waistband of your jeans, his fingers slipped inside, eyes flicking up to yours for permission.

“Please,” you breathed.

Will didn’t think twice and unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, taking your matching red lace panties with them. Once you were bare, he settled between your legs, kissing your inner thighs softly, not wasting his time to work his way higher.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice full with want. “So fucking wet already.. all for me?”

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you open. The first slow lick up your center pulled a sharp gasp from you. Will groaned at your taste, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He licked again, tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently between his lips.

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tightening as pleasure built. You pushed him closer when he found the perfect rhythm, hips rolling against his mouth. Will hummed in approval, the sound low and filthy.

He slid one finger inside you, then two, curling them just right while his tongue worked your clit faster. The combination had your back arching, moans growing louder. Will’s free hand stayed firm on your thigh, keeping you pressed to him as he devoured you like a man starved.

Will kept going, like he’d been waiting years just to taste you. His tongue circled your clit with perfect pressure while his fingers curled deep inside, hitting that spot that made your thighs shake. You were bucking against his face now, hips chasing the pleasure as it built higher and higher.

“Will- fuck, right there,” you gasped, fingers tightening painfully in his hair.

He groaned against you and used his strength to pin your hips down to the mattress, holding you still so he could devour you exactly how he wanted. The added pressure pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashed through you hard, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.

He didn’t stop and licked you through every wave until you were trembling and breathless, thighs clamped around his head.

He finally pulled back, lips shiny and breathing ragged. He sat up, quickly unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans and boxers down in one impatient motion. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed, the tip already glistening.

Will crawled back over you, hovering close. “Was that good?” he asked, almost shy.

“Fuck yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “Never had better. Jesus, Will.”

He grinned, pride flashing across his face, and leaned down to kiss you, as you tasted yourself on his tongue. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours. “Can you take more? I don’t want to push-”

You nodded immediately.

His smile was bright and relieved. Feeling bold, you planted your hands on his chest and flipped both of you over. Will let you take control, moving until his back rested against the headboard and you climbed into his lap, straddling him, knees on either side of his hips.

You wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him slowly before lining him up. Then you sank down inch by inch, taking him inside you. The stretch was perfect, filling you completely. Will’s head fell back against the headboard with a groan.

“Fuck.. you feel so good,” he breathed, hands gripping your waist tightly. “So tight.. a-and so warm.”

You started moving, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm. When you leaned backward, bracing your hands on his thighs, the angle shifted and hit a new spot that made you moan loudly. Will’s grip tightened, helping guide you, sometimes pulling you down harder onto him with each thrust upward.

“Shit- just like that,” he cursed, eyes locked on where your bodies joined. “You’re going to kill me. What a w-way to die.” He joked, moaning while trying to talk.

A few moments later, you leaned forward again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his. Your fingers scratched lightly down his back, leaving faint red lines that only seemed to spur him on. Will buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting as you rode him faster.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” he whispered hotly against your skin, voice breaking with pleasure.

The words, combined with the way he filled you and the friction against your clit, sent you spiraling again. You came hard around his cock, squeezing him rhythmically as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Will groaned loudly, hips stuttering.

“Baby- I’m close,” he warned.

You kept moving through your orgasm until he lifted you just enough to pull out. He stroked himself twice more and came with a deep moan, thick ropes landing across your stomach and lower chest. His head tipped back, breathing heavy, face flushed with satisfaction.

You still sat in his lap, both of you breathing hard as you came down from the high. A lazy smile tugged at your lips when you finally caught your breath. Will looked at you like you’d hung the stars, his hands still gently holding your hips.

He leaned in for one more soft kiss before carefully lifting you off him and laying you back down on the pillows. “Stay right here”.

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned moments later with a warm, damp cloth. With gentle touches, he cleaned his release from your stomach and between your thighs.

Once he was done, he tossed the cloth back into the bathroom and rummaged through his closet. He slipped on a pair of black boxers, then brought you one of his soft t-shirts and another pair of his boxers.

Will climbed back into bed and lifted the sheets. He opened his arms wide in invitation and you didn’t think twice, sliding in and pressing your chest against his as you both lay on your sides. Your arms wrapped around his waist while his circled you, one hand stroking slowly up and down your back. You tangled your legs together, bodies fitting perfectly.

“It was amazing,” you murmured against his skin. “Thank you.”

Will kissed your forehead, lips lingering there. “I know,” he agreed. “Goodnight” Wrapped in each other’s warmth, the steady beat of his heart against yours lulled you.

The next morning you woke up still tangled in each other exactly as you’d fallen asleep. Your legs were intertwined, your face pressed against Will’s chest, and his arm was wrapped securely around your waist.

You shifted slightly, and Will stirred, humming softly as he woke. “How’d you sleep?” Will asked a few minutes after waking up.

“Definitely better than other nights when the bed beside me is empty,” you replied with a small smile.

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. Will’s fingers traced lazy circles on your lower back before he spoke again.

“Y/n.. this is honestly so embarrassing, but after last night, what do I have to lose?” He swallowed. “Yesterday made me realize how much I really want to be with you. I’ve known it for a long time of course, because every time I saw you with other guys, letting them buy you drinks, it drove me crazy. But I always felt like I’d just be ‘Grace’s younger brother’ to you. And I think last night proved I can’t let you go and I don’t want to.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued, the words tumbling out.

“I know you’ve had other options, but I ignore everyone else just for you. I just need to know, was this something real? Or was I just a nightstand for you because-”

You lightly hit his chest. “Okay, first of all, don’t say it like that.” You softened your voice. “And no because it was genuine. Why would I ever hook up with my friend’s brother if I didn’t want you? I’m here in bed with you because I want you. The truth is.. the day I saw you, I thought you were cute. I told myself it was just a first impression and it would fade, but it never did. I’ve never really been into younger guys, but I think I’m really gone for you, Will. Sometimes the best things come when you least expect it.”

Will’s face lit up with a shy, happy smile. He let out a little giggle. “I’m actually into older women, if you didn’t know.”

You laughed. “So.. how are we going to tell my sister about this?” he asked.

“I mean, she’s not stupid. She’s probably suspected for a while but we’re definitely not telling her the details of last night,” you said, grinning.

Will nodded, laughing. “Agreed.” He pulled you closer. “Now tell me.. what was your actual first impression of me that day on midsummers?”

TAGLIST: @alliwritespuck @bouncedatahhh @cheerymints @lynsdigitaljournal @ill-uminati7 @behindthescreenobsessed @lemsies25 @definitelynotdomanique @lcvlyhughesy @sh1ft1ng1234 @willsmiths2 @iknowtonystark @mintbrini98 @kazansky-slxt @siennaluvshcky @val413 @wherethezoes-at @macka @beckieepicaz00 @carlottawllms @Blankenbirks @mcelebrini @probably--possessed @celebrinigf @postgamevibes @icetimedreamer @misslivinglegend @alexxavicry @sohhh09 @goaldengay @umm-ok-fine @idkwhatthisis2009 @luckylzclerc @miyasfatass @0717luv @downtownjulie @feellikeimphoebe @lilfreakjez @astrolatrism @smittylovr @asteria33 @cccassiopeia @mrsbedard @valintheafterlight @Ponyboygirl1234 @vivireichs @itzlexa @hyunjinvoid @sxphmarny @hockeyromanceclub

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[pearlandemerald]

two pics of how I felt while reading this lol

[pearlandemerald]

new theme who dis???

[pearlandemerald]

Hey what’s the insta of your female oc in your singer oc! SMAU?

Selina Dreijer! or @selinadreijer on insta!

[wannabehockeygf]

A Very Makar Christmas | CM⁸

Summary: Moving in with your boyfriend of 3 years may have just been your best decision yet

Pairing: Cale Makar x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Notes

christmas fic in almost june i feel insane

but idk it feels right for him

and who doesn't love some holiday cheer in the summer

i have never been to denver so i made shit up about real places so i am sorry if it is grossly inaccurate

just some sweet wholesome fluff :) enjoy

Saturday morning slips in soft and bright, sun sharpening the crystalline edges of last night’s snowfall and bouncing light across the kitchen tiles. You slip your toes into the memory of warmth, cushioned socks still hot from the dryer, and shuffle toward the counter where the French press waits. Outside the window Cale has carved himself into the landscape, beanie low, shovel flashing silver as he sends plumes of powder arcing over the driveway. His hair peeks out along his forehead, soaked through and darker at the ends, while the sharp winter air paints his already flushed cheeks into a deeper, almost comical rose. That weirdly adorable rosacea has always made him look like he just finished laughing too hard, even when he’s suit-and-tie serious about hockey.

The kettle sings. You pour and watch steam curl up into the kitchen air, the scent of hazelnut beans filling the house you both moved into three months ago. It still feels new, the unpacked boxes gone but the thrill of shared space lingering in every corner. Three years of being attached at some invisible hinge, pressed together through road trips and morning skate alarms, and now there’s a pile of matching slippers by the door, your fleece jacket draped over his Avalanche hoodie. Denver hasn’t truly decided whether to welcome you, but the snowflakes plastered to the window screens make it look like a snow globe that got shaken up just for you two.

You glance back outside and catch him grinning to himself between shovel strokes, breath fogging, eyes so vividly blue they seem lit from within. He’s been forcing that grin the last few days, trying to walk off the heaviness of not having his family here. The storms rolling over the Rockies locked airports shut, and his parents and siblings are stuck in Calgary. You’d heard him on the phone this morning, gentle voice trying to console his mom for not making it down for Christmas, quietly apologizing as if he could control weather systems. Hockey schedules have him occupied—morning skates, meetings, practices—but his shoulders have been tense lately, a little sloped when he thinks you’re not looking. He loves his team, loves this city, yet the idea of empty guest rooms during the holidays gnaws at him.

The front door groans open, a gust of biting air hitting the kitchen. Cale stomps snow from his boots, shovel thunking against the frame. “Driveway’s clear,” he announces, breathless delight mingling with a soft tremble of cold. “Neighborhood kids are out building a fort. Battle of Colorado happening on the sidewalk.”

He shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the chair back, and you are struck again by that stupidly endearing flush smeared across his cheeks and nose. It makes his light features more gentle, the angle of his jaw softened by warmth. He looks like winter itself met blush and decided to stay.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmur before you can stop yourself.

He steps closer, smile tipping higher despite the red. “I’m literally a mess of ice.” He cups your waist and kisses your forehead hard enough to leave a chill. The coffee mug you’re holding tilts as he slides up to your lips, kissing you soft and sweet—and freeze-your-face-off cold.

“Cale!” You jerk back, scrunching your nose, huffing a laugh. “Your nose is freezing!” You rub at your face as if that will erase the sting, dramatic gasp and all.

He looks ridiculously pleased. “But did I mention the driveway’s clear?”

You poke his chest, still warm from layering though damp at the collar. “You could have warned me.”

“You love me.”

“Against my better judgment,” you tease, leaning into his chest regardless. He wraps his arms around your waist, something in that simple hold unfurling tension you didn’t realize you’d been carrying.

The coffee press hisses as it sinks, thick dark liquid pooling. You hand him a mug, watching as his fingers curl around the ceramic. He sighs into that first sip, eyes fluttering half closed. His lashes are still dusted with stray snow, and his hair sticks up in strands that will never lie flat without your interference. You reach up and thumb a lock into place, achingly aware that little domestic rituals like this are exactly what you’d always hoped for without knowing it.

“You know,” you start softly, “we’re still going to have a perfect holiday. Even if the dinner table only has two chairs occupied.” You glance toward the window, snow-laden pines shining under a shy sun. “We’ll FaceTime your family, watch your mom’s Christmas breakfast prep disaster happen in real time.”

He laughs, the sound bubbling with relief. “My mom would kill me if I told you about that disaster, but yes, exactly. We’ll duct tape the iPad to the counter so they can supervise.”

“I’m already planning the menu. Your cousin sent me her gingerbread recipe as a bribe to make sure you don’t get sad.”

His smile softens, and you can see the emotions shifting behind his eyes—gratitude, ache, excitement. “Three years,” he whispers, thumb rubbing circles over your back. “We moved in just in time for the biggest storm of the decade. I keep thinking how different it would’ve felt if we weren’t together.”

“We are together,” you say, tucking your chin against his chest. “In every storm.”

His heartbeat thuds steady, a metronome against your ear. Outside, snow drips from icicles, the day promising more brightness than the week that came before. Amid the scent of coffee and the distant noise of kids’ laughter filtering through double-paned windows, Cale presses another kiss to your forehead. “You make everything feel warmer,” he murmurs. “Even when I’m bringing in the Arctic.”

“Bring the Arctic all you want,” you reply, curling at his side. “Just keep that cold nose away from my face until I’m ready.”

He feigns offense. “I can’t help it, it’s part of the package.”

“Blue eyes, hockey player body, freezing nose,” you tally with a grin.

“And I recently added ‘live-in snow removal service’ to the resume.” He snuggles closer, body thawing against yours. The house creaks in pleasant agreement, pipes humming softly. Somewhere inside you, contentment settles like a heavy blanket, your mind drifting through quiet backstory flashes—those late-night phone calls before you moved in together, marathon drives to catch his away games, the way he’d go pink down to his collarbone when you cheered for him in person. Every minute led here, a Saturday morning where the only plan is comfort.

By noon the house smells like cinnamon and pine, the giant candle you lit earlier warring with the real evergreen in the corner that Cale insisted on hauling home despite the snowstorm last week. He’d promised the tree a place of honour, arguing that if his parents couldn’t be here at least their ornaments could. Now, as afternoon light glints through the living room, boxes of decorations crowd the rug, each one labeled in his neat block letters—CALE, CHRISTMAS—, reminders of traditions that somehow survived the move across countries and leagues.

He kneels beside the open box, expression reverent as he untangles decades of ribbon and glitter. Every time he pulls something new out, he offers a story without you prompting, as if setting the tree is a conversation with ghosts of holidays past. “This one,” he says, holding up a clay skates ornament, “Taylor made when he was in kindergarten. He glued the laces to the wrong side, so it looks like tiny weapons.” His blue eyes shine with fond mischief. “My mom refused to throw it out.”

He settles it on a branch, the tree’s needles trembling under his careful touch. The sun hits his face in gold streaks, warming the rosy flush that still lingers on his cheeks. You watch from the couch, a mug of tea nestled into your palms, heart heavy with affection. The scene unfurls like a dream—the quiet house, a fabric throw draped over his shoulders, your blended lives more seamless than any of the ribbons he struggles with.

“I never told you the first time I thought about living together.” He says it offhandedly, but the words hang in the air. He’s still kneeling, hands in the ornament box, but his attention flickers toward you, gaze soft. “We were on the phone the first few months we dated. You were in your little studio apartment, and I could hear the noisy neighbors through the wall. You were still taking classes, exhausted, and I just…” He swallows, the memory hitting him hard. “I wanted to drive over, scoop you up, and put you somewhere safe, where you could sleep and wake up without stress. That’s when I knew I didn’t just want you visiting Denver—I wanted you in every room.”

Your breath catches. You’d been balancing long-distance then, surviving on screen-time and brief reunions between road trips. Back then you’d thought about it too, wondered what it would be like to toss a sweater on his couch and just never leave. Now here you are, a combined laundry basket at your feet. The reality isn’t Friday night movie montages exactly—it’s errand lists and late-night laundry and watching him lace up skates on TV while you make dinner half-awake—but it’s so much better because of those tiny, almost mundane details that anchor your days together.

“You should have told me,” you say, but you mean it in gratitude. “Maybe I would have moved sooner.”

He shrugs, eyes gleaming. “I didn’t want to scare you. We had our rhythm, and I didn’t know if you’d want to deal with me being on the road so much.”

“You’re worth the empty bed nights,” you reply, letting the truth tumble out before it can be filtered. “Even when you’re gone, it feels like you’re here. Your socks invade my drawers and your notes are stuck to the fridge.”

His laugh cracks, not from humor but from emotion. He stands and steps around the tinsel-littered floor to the couch, easing down beside you. His thigh presses against yours, warming your leg through fleece. “I love you,” he says, tone reverent enough to rival any vow. “And I know I say that all the time, but I want to keep saying it. Forever, if you’ll let me.”

You tuck your toes under his leg, battling the rush of heat that travels to your cheeks. When he gets earnest like this, the world narrows to the breath between you. He brushes a thumb over the back of your hand, tracing lines as if memorizing creases he’s already memorized a hundred times.

“Forever sounds good,” you whisper, voice steady despite the swell in your chest.

He nods, satisfied, and leans his head against your shoulder. You stay like that for several quiet minutes, watching the lights blink on the tree even though they’re not plugged in yet. Outside the snow has mellowed, and thin sunlight paints the street in pale gold. Somewhere in the distance a car engine struggles to start, but inside there is only the soft tick of the clock and the faint, steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually he pulls away with a little hum, stretching his arm. “We should make the sugar cookies before it gets too late.” He stands, offering you a hand. “Mom said we have to keep the tradition alive or she’ll revoke her Christmas card privileges.”

You roll your eyes and let him pull you up. “I will do it for your mother.” You poke his flushed cheek. “Only for her.”

In the kitchen, the counter becomes a battlefield of flour, measuring cups, and stolen spoonfuls of dough. He smears flour across his own nose in an attempt at humor, and when you laugh, he beams like a little boy caught fingerpainting. He doesn’t talk about hockey once, though you know the season churns in the back of his mind—line combinations, film sessions, plane rides. Here, in the warmth of your kitchen, he lets himself be just Cale, not the defenseman with a franchise on his shoulders.

As the cookies bake, he slides behind you, hands sliding around your waist. “Thanks for today,” he murmurs into your hair. “I know I’ve been… off.”

“You’ve been working so hard, baby,” you answer, leaning into his solid frame. “There’s a difference.”

He inhales as if he’s trying to memorize your scent, the spices in the air, everything that says home. “Still. You’ve been holding me up in quiet ways. Shoveling the driveway helps distract me.” He smiles into your shoulder. “So does this.”

You close your eyes, letting the simple truth of it dissolve the nagging ache of plans that didn’t happen. This afternoon may be an improvisation, a holiday stitched together from tradition and invention, but you can feel it strengthening something between you. When the oven timer dings, you pull apart reluctantly, frosting and sprinkles waiting to make their annual appearance.

Later, as you ice cookies with a level of precision that would impress any pastry chef, he strings the lights on the tree, humming off-key. You catch him glancing over every few minutes, a soft expression carved into his features. The rest of the day stretches ahead—maybe a walk in the snow, maybe a movie marathon, maybe just more silence stitched with lazy conversation. Either way, this is only the beginning.

Twilight drapes itself over downtown Denver like a velvet scarf, neon signs humming to life while the cold tucks sharp teeth into every stray breeze. You and Cale step out of the rideshare and onto the sidewalk outside Union Station, bundled into matching scarves that his grandma mailed last week with a note insisting they were picture perfect for holiday dates. The plaza glows under strings of bulbs, the building’s façade splashed with red and green lights. Couples skate on the temporary ice rink, their laughter floating up to mingle with faint strains of a Sinatra cover drifting from a nearby speaker.

Cale tightens his grip on your hand, guiding you through clusters of people. He looks like a walking winter advertisement—cheeks flushed cherry-red from the cold, straight hair tucked under a beanie, blue eyes bright as the lights streaming above. Every time he exhales, his breath curls in white clouds around his face, and you can’t help memorizing the visual, wanting to tuck it somewhere safe. This city moves differently in his company, as if the brick and glass knew his stride.

You both gravitate toward the hot cider stand like it’s a magnetic beacon. The vendor greets Cale by name, Denver perks still catching you off guard. “Two, please,” he orders, voice soft and easy. 

While the guy ladles steaming cider into paper cups, Cale nudges you with his shoulder. “Remember when we got stuck in that blizzard in Calgary and you insisted on walking to get coffee?”

“You mean when you forgot your gloves and I had to lend you my mittens? Hard to forget the sight of a pro hockey player in pink pom-pom mitts.”

He laughs, cheeks deepening in color. “You still remind me every chance you get.”

“Because you let me.” You take the cups, handing him one. The heat seeps through your gloves, warming fingers chilled from the night air.

He sips, eyes sliding shut for a second, and you watch his expression shift from playful to contemplative. You lean into him, letting his arm curl around your shoulders, and together you wander the plaza. A nearby art installation—giant glowing spheres stacked into a tower—throws shifting colors across his face, blues and purples mingling with his natural flush. You’ve never seen him look more content. The noise of the crowd, the sharp scent of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor, the distant rumble of light-rail trains all blur into background music.

You pause near the skating rink, watching a little girl wobble forward while her father skates backward, encouraging her. Cale’s gaze follows them, softened by something reminiscent of longing. You know he’s thinking about his own father, teaching him to skate on a rink back in Calgary, stories he’s retold with a reverence that makes those memories feel like your own. Without prompting, he squeezes your hand.

“Maybe one day…” he trails off, eyes fixed on the little girl giggling as she grips her dad’s hands, “maybe we can have a kid of our own. I know you’d love to watch me teach them how to skate.” He punctuates it with a laugh, trying to lighten the thought, but your heart has already skipped a beat. It’s the first time he’s voiced the idea so plainly, no joke to deflect it, just a simple, hopeful piece of future hanging between you.

“I’d frame the photos,” you say, voice steady despite the overwhelming tenderness swelling in your chest. “Just to embarrass you both.”

He smiles, yet his eyes carry an aching sincerity. “You’d be the best mom,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to you.

You lean your head against his shoulder, watching the rink lights spin circles over the ice. “You’d be a ridiculous skate coach,” you counter. “Charts, assignments, stickhandling drills for toddlers.”

“They’ll be skating before they can walk,” he jokes, though emotion threads through his words. “Just like my dad did with me.”

He quiets then, attention caught by the way the girl’s father lifts her, spins her gently. You feel him thinking about home, the family waiting, the empty seats at the table this year. You tighten your arm around his waist, fitting your body closer to his. He responds by kissing your temple, that cold nose nudging your skin but not bothering you tonight.

“The rink’s busy, but we could still skate,” he says, half wistful, half daring.

“You sure your fans won’t mob you?” you tease lightly.

“If they do, they’ll have to deal with rink etiquette. No elbows on the boards, no selfies mid-spin.” He takes a more serious breath. “Besides, I just want to skate with you. Slow, probably sliding all over because the ice is chewed up, but still.”

You nod, heart a melange of nostalgia and anticipation, and follow him toward the rental booth. He’s recognized twice before you even lace up—one teenage boy in a Nuggets beanie asks for a photo, and Cale obliges with that effortless awkwardness, the rosacea flush intensifying under the cold and the shy gratitude. The kid walks away chattering into his phone, probably already telling every group chat that he just met Cale Makar, and you catch the pride dancing across Cale’s features. Not ego, just gentle appreciation for the place and people he now calls home.

The rink guard opens the gate and you step onto the ice, blades biting into grooves piled thick from earlier skaters. The cold seizes your lungs at first, but the world narrows to the scrape of metal, the weight of his hand wrapped around yours. You’re not graceful, not tonight, not with boots that always feel two sizes heavier, but Cale navigates the uneven surface like he’s back on pristine arena ice. The rosy flush in his cheeks deepens when he glances at you.

“Hold onto me,” he says softly. “I won’t let you fall.”

“I know,” you answer, and you mean it way beyond the rink.

He guides you around the perimeter, a slow glide, other skaters weaving past with bells on their laces. You drift past a couple sharing hot chocolate, an elderly man skating alone with surprising elegance, a group of teenagers racing dangerously close to the boards. At every turn, Cale keeps you balanced. He chuckles when your footing slips and steadies you effortlessly, his hands warm despite the chill.

“I still think about that first time you saw me play,” he muses, voice low enough to carry only between the two of you. “You were in that ridiculous purple sweater, standing in the family section.”

“It was a great sweater,” you defend, although you’re smiling at the memory. “And I was there because I couldn’t stand watching you through a TV screen anymore.”

“I looked up, saw you shouting, and forgot about the game for a full shift.” His grin is crooked. “Coach almost benched me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Totally worth it.” He spins you gently, your blades wobbling but not slipping, his hands braced at your waist. “I still feel like that sometimes—like I see you and everything else blurs.”

Heat rises to your face despite the cold. “That’s so corny,” you whisper, though your heart is melting under the weight of the confession.

“True things usually are.” He halts near the center, pulling you close, breath pooling in a silver cloud between your faces. “I keep thinking how this is our first Christmas in the same house. No flights, no crammed weekends. Just… us.”

“Us and the blizzard,” you point out.

“And the blizzard.” His eyes gleam. “But even the storm feels less harsh with you.”

Music changes, a slower song spilling across the ice. Cale slides one hand into yours, the other still on your waist, and starts to sway. You try to follow, letting the rhythm guide your steps, trusting his balance to compensate for your lack. The world shrinks to a kaleidoscope of twinkling lights and murmured laughter. Every so often he leans down, brushing his forehead against yours, that gentle, steady contact grounding you in the moment.

“You know what else is missing this year?” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Your insane tradition of wrapping every gift at two in the morning on Christmas Eve.”

You choke a laugh. “I can still do that.”

“You won’t need to. Because…” He pauses, gaze slipping away briefly. “I already wrapped everything.”

“You?” You gape. “You used tape?”

He pretends offense. “I can wrap. It’s, like, geometry.”

“I need proof.”

“You’ll see on Christmas.” He flushes deeper. “I wanted to take the stress off you. You’ve done so much already.”

You think about the house decorated with strings of lights he hung without complaint, the hours he spent shoveling the driveway, the way he’s called his parents daily to make sure they don’t feel forgotten even though they initiated this holiday tradition. The softness inside you sharpens, a blade of gratitude.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He shrugs. “I like taking care of you.” The words are simple, no grand gesture attached, yet they wrap around you like a promise.

Eventually you glide toward the exit, stepping off the ice with stiff legs and aching calves, and collapse onto a bench to pull off skates. He kneels to loosen your laces, thumbs brushing your ankles with patient care. People bustle past, but he moves as if the two of you are alone in the universe, stream of consciousness focused entirely on you.

“Well, where to next?” he asks once your boots are back on.

“There’s that old bookstore around the corner,” you suggest. “The one with the strings of fairy lights in the windows.”

“Sold.” He stands and helps you up. “Lead the way.”

You weave through the crowd again, shoulders bumping, conversations merging into a communal hum. Cale keeps his arm around you, body heat easing the bite of the wind. In your peripheral vision, Union Station glitters like a backdrop in a holiday movie, the towering wreaths and towering arch glowing like stage pieces. Somewhere behind you, the rink speakers switch to a jaunty carol, the kind that would normally make you roll your eyes, yet tonight it folds into the perfect soundtrack.

For a heartbeat you imagine what future nights might look like—a toddler in a puffy jacket waddling between you, the two of you bringing your families together in this city, Cale still blushing every time a camera catches him, still stealing your gloves when he forgets his own. The thought warms you more effectively than any cider.

He catches your expression. “What are you thinking about?”

You consider downplaying it, but you choose honesty. “Years from now,” you say, “when we come back to this spot with a kid who wants to skate, how we’ll tell them that tonight is where we planned our first real holiday together.”

His eyes soften into a shade you’ve never been able to describe. “God, you’re it for me,” he chuckles.

He lifts your gloved hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles through the wool. The night swallows you whole, a gentle, glittering cocoon, and neither of you knows that tucked away in the pocket of his coat, next to the warmth of his palm, a small velvet box waits for its moment.

Monday drapes itself in gray, Denver smothered under a low ceiling of clouds that promise more snow but haven’t committed. You wake to the soft percussion of sleet ticking against the bedroom window, the faint hum of the heater kicking on, and the empty space next to you where Cale usually sprawls, limbs akimbo like he fought off a dream. He left before dawn for practice, pressing a kiss to your temple while you half-slept, murmuring that he’d be back early, that he wanted to spend the afternoon with you. The promise carried warmth even through sleep, and now, as you shuffle into the kitchen in fuzzy socks, the smell of his aftershave clings to the hallway, proof that he’d lingered just long enough to comb his hair and tug on his Avalanche hoodie.

The counter holds a note weighed down by a small pinecone. In his neat handwriting he’s scribbled: “Back by 1. Cider leftover in the fridge. Also, don’t forget to water the tree (apparently it’s thirsty?). I love you.” You grin, tuck the pinecone into the bowl of clementines as if it belongs there, and brew coffee. The kitchen is quiet, the kind of morning stillness that feels like the world breathing out, and you wonder if he’s already on his way home, if he’s pulling into the driveway as you pour creamer into your mug.

By twelve forty-five the garage door groans, footsteps thump upstairs, and the front door swings open. Cale steps in bundled in team merch, cheeks punched pink by the cold, hair a little damp from snowflakes melting under the beanie. The rosacea flare splashes across his cheekbones, only enhanced by the brisk air. He kicks off his boots, smiles with his entire face when he spots you curled on the couch with a blanket.

“You watered the tree?” he asks, pulling the beanie off and shaking out his dirty blond hair.

“I give it pep talks too,” you reply. “Growth mindset.”

He laughs, the sound rich with relief. “Good. Otherwise it might need a sports psychologist.”

He settles beside you, sliding under the blanket, his body radiating chill that quickly warms as you drape yourself across his lap. The television plays softly, some old black-and-white holiday movie he likes because it reminds him of late-night reruns with his siblings. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and rests his chin on the top of your head.

“I missed you,” he murmurs after a beat, as if he hasn’t been gone more than a few hours. “The rink was freezing and all I could think about was getting back here.”

You tilt your head to meet his gaze. “Isn’t every rink freezing?”

He makes a face. “This was special. Someone messed with the thermostat. I swear my eyelashes froze during video.”

“You made it back alive. Proud of you.”

His grin softens, the edges turning inward. “I wanted to tell you something.” He hesitates, thumb stroking your shoulder. “Nate asked me how I was doing with the holidays, with my family stuck in Calgary. I told him I was okay, that I had you. For the first time, saying it felt like more than just an answer. It felt… permanent.”

Your heartbeat stutters. “Permanent?”

“Yeah.” The word hangs between you, gentle and certain. “Like this isn’t a temporary arrangement. I’m not visiting your life and you’re not visiting mine—we built one together.” He pauses, eyes searching yours. “I’ve never felt that before.”

Emotion presses against your sternum, trying to climb into your throat. You nuzzle closer, letting his heartbeat steady yours. “I feel it too,” you confess. “Waking up alone this morning felt wrong, even though you were only gone for a few hours. We’re stitched together in all these tiny ways.”

His cheeks redden further, not just from cold. “I know we talk about the future sometimes, but lately I keep thinking about what’s next. Not in a rushing kind of way. Just… excited.”

You catch the edge of anticipation in his voice, the way he can’t quite sit still. He shifts, one knee bouncing, the restlessness of somebody carrying a secret on the verge of spilling.

“What do you want to do today?” you ask, wanting to steer into something simple, to keep this cocooned time just the two of you. “We could bake more cookies, call your mom, go for a walk before the next storm hits.”

He chews his lip. “I was thinking we could take a drive. Maybe up to Lookout Mountain. The weather’s supposed to hold for a few hours.”

You blink. That overlook was your first weekend adventure after moving to Denver, a spontaneous trip that ended in you wrapped in a blanket on the hood of his car, watching the city lights glitter below. It’s a place that holds quiet significance, a marker of beginnings and whispered secrets.

“Now?” you ask, out of surprise.

“Yeah,” he says, voice gaining confidence. “I already packed hot chocolate in a thermos. And blankets. And, uh, extra gloves so I don’t have to steal yours.”

There’s something in his expression, nervous energy, that makes your pulse quicken. Still, you nod. “Let me get dressed.”

Within half an hour you’re bundled in layers, boots laced tight, scarf tucked under your chin. He holds the door for you, his own jacket zipped up to his chin. The rosacea flush is still vivid, amplified by excitement. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it down before tugging his beanie back on.

The drive west winds through snow-dusted neighborhoods where kids roll massive snow boulders into lopsided snowmen. The higher you climb, the heavier the clouds appear, but the roads have been plowed recently, asphalt gleaming wet under the muted light. Cale taps the steering wheel to an upbeat holiday song, humming under his breath. Every so often he glances over, eyes shining.

“You okay?” you ask softly, studying his profile. The strong cut of his jaw, the way the cold brings color to his face, the slight furrow between his brows.

“More than okay,” he answers. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”

“About driving up a mountain?” you tease.

“About being with you on top of one,” he replies, tone earnest enough that the tease melts away. “I like the view. It makes everything feel smaller.”

He turns onto the narrow road that snakes up to the lookout. Snow banks hug the edges, pine trees bowing under the weight of frost. When he parks near the overlook, the city sprawls far below, the skyline softened by the winter haze. You both step out into biting wind, pulling collars up, breaths immediately puffing white.

He uncaps the thermos and pours hot chocolate into two travel mugs, handing you one. The steam curls up, sweet and thick. You lean against the guardrail, sipping slowly, letting the heat sink into your palms. The air smells like cedar and impending snow. Denver sprawls in the distance, lights just starting to glimmer as afternoon slides toward evening.

Cale stands beside you, shoulders brushing yours, gaze fixed somewhere between the horizon and whatever thoughts are rattling behind his eyes. His hand fidgets in his pocket, repeatedly, as if testing something.

“You’re really jumpy,” you observe.

“I’m good,” he insists, words puffing out, fogging the air between you. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He turns, eyes locking onto yours. The wind musses his straight, dirty blond hair under the beanie, and his cheeks are more flushed than the cold can account for. He sets his mug on the guardrail, then takes yours, placing it beside his. When he reaches for your hands, yours are shaking slightly, though whether from cold or anticipation you can’t tell.

“I keep trying to find the right words,” he says quietly. “To explain how you make everything feel lighter. How the last three years showed me what it means to actually be in a partnership, not just dates squeezed between road trips. Moving in with you felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long.”

Your pulse thunders. He squeezes your fingers, blue eyes searching your face as if memorizing every shift.

“I know my family couldn’t get here,” he continues, voice steadying. “I know the snow turned this holiday upside down. But it also reminded me that home isn’t a place. It’s you. Wherever you are, I want to be there.”

He takes one deep breath, shoulders lifting, and goes very still. When he slips his hand into his jacket pocket and drops to one knee in the snow, your vision tunnels.

The world shrinks to the man kneeling before you, cheeks flushed like a sunrise, blue eyes bright even under the overcast sky. Wind whips around you, but all you hear is the pounding of your own heart and his voice.

“I love you,” he says, and the words are a promise, heavy and gentle all at once. “I knew it the first time you made fun of my postgame interview. I knew it when you moved to Denver to build a life with me. I knew it when we made pancakes at midnight and when we fought over where to put the couch. I want every morning, every snowfall, every hockey season with you. Will you marry me?”

Time fractures. The snow-laden trees hold their breath, the city lights blur, your eyes brim with tears that freeze instantly on your lashes. All you can do is nod, the yes bursting out of you before you can form a full sentence. “Yes,” you manage, voice shaking with laughter and sobs tangled together. “Yes, Cale!”

He exhales a choked laugh, relief and joy colliding in his expression. He opens the small velvet box, revealing a ring that catches the muted light and throws it back in shimmering sparks. When he slides it onto your finger, his hands tremble, the calluses on his fingertips rough against your skin. The ring settles perfectly, a circle of promise nestled beside your heartbeat.

You haul him up before he can say anything else, throwing your arms around his neck. He wraps you up tight, burying his face in your scarf, nose pressed against your jaw despite the cold. Your breath hitches, laughter spilling out uncontrollably, muffled by his coat. Snowflakes land in his hair, on your lashes, melting as soon as they touch the heat radiating from your embrace.

“I was so scared,” he admits against your ear, words soft enough that only you hear them. “Not about you saying no. Just about making it perfect.”

“It is perfect,” you whisper back. “It’s us. On a freezing mountain with hot chocolate and snow in our boots.”

He kisses you then, slow and sure, breathing you in as snow swirls around. His lips are cold, his nose icy, but none of that matters. Everything distills into a single flash of feeling: belonging. The city below sparkles on, unaware, while up on the mountain the two of you stand at the edge of one chapter and the beginning of another.

When you finally return to the car, your boots squelching snow, he keeps glancing at your hand, at the ring catching the dim afternoon light. Every time he looks, a new grin breaks across his face. You rest your hand on his thigh as he drives, the weight of the ring unfamiliar but right, as if your finger had been waiting for it all along.

Back home you step inside, shaking off the cold, and the tree greets you with twinkling lights and pine scent. You stand in front of it, both of you still in your coats, your hand lifted to study the ring again. Cale comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing steady, heartbeat syncing with the quiet hum of the house. Outside, the wind nudges at the windows. Inside, the laundry basket overflows, the mugs from earlier sit abandoned on the counter, and your hand glows with a new weight. He takes it in his, thumb brushing the ring, the smallest smile anchored in awe. 

You stay there without rush, the tree casting soft light over both of you, and say nothing else.

[pearlandemerald]

Cale HallMakar (lol I’m so stupid)

[pearlandemerald]

macklin celebrini - gummy smile

will smith - toothy smile

mat barzal - lopsided grin

connor bedard - awkward grimace

just some thoughts…

[babypuck]

need dad natemack to get through that awful game

bittersweet homecoming dad!nathan mackinnon x mom!reader wc: 2.2k warnings: mention of the vgk goalie, nate being sad about the sweep (me too), mostly cute dad!nate note: that game hurt, but it's ok! i love my team to death, and even though that was a disappointing series, we're going to come back next year stronger and better than ever. this fic is to make myself and everyone else feel better 🥲

The plane lands in Colorado around ten on Thursday morning. The entire team is dead silent as they gather their luggage, everyone feeling the weigth of the loss from last night like fifty pound weights on their shoulders. They should probably talk about it, meet with Jared about everything that went wrong, all the mistakes that were made.

Nobody has the energy for it.

All Nate can think about is getting home to you and Milo. You’d called him last night, and he’d answered the phone laying flat on his back on the hotel bed, listening to the TV play something random in an attempt to get his mind off of it. You told him about your day, that you went to Target and got Milo a few new swim trunks for the summer, and that they’re all really cute. And what you made for lunch. And dinner.

That’s always been one of Nate’s favorite things about you, your ability to talk about anything and everything, in an attempt to get his mind away from everything that transpired last night.

Right before you hung up, the sound of Milo crying over the baby monitor filled Nate’s ears, and he had to hold back a groan. Milo turned one a few weeks ago, and he’s been pretty clingy, specifically with Nate. For some reason it wasn’t as bad during the regular season, but as soon as the playoffs started, Milo got especially sticky with his dad. He asks to call Nate fifty times a day, wants to wear his jersey with Daddy on the back, and fights sleep as much as possible because he wants to be put down by Nate.

That’s the only bright side in this whole clusterfuck. Milo’s getting his dad back for teh next few months.

The forty five minute drive from DIA back home is undoubtedly the longest forty five minutes of Nate’s entire life. All he wants is to hug you, hug his son, and have a lazy day at home. Maybe he’ll take Milo and Maggie out for a walk around the neighborhood, go to Milo’s favorite playground for a bit.

He sent you a quick text when he was five minutes away, and felt all the tension leave his body when he pulled into the driveway exactly five minutes later to find you and Milo standing in the front yard, waiting for him.

“DADA!” Milo squealed as Nate opened the car door, smiling wide at the sight of his son bouncing excitedly in your arms. He was already reaching for his dad, making grabby hands. Nate didn’t hesitate to grap him from you, immediately wrapping Milo up in a big, tight hug. Milo laid his head on Nate’s shoulder, his little arms falling around his dad’s neck. “Dada, Dada, hi!”

Nate melts at his son’s sweet voice, at how excited he is to see him. He’s spent the last few weeks feeling so incredibly guilty for not being here as much as Milo needs him, but he’s here right now. He’s going to be here until October. Obviously, Nate needs to train and practice, and keep in shape in the offseason, but he’s going to spend as much time as possible with his baby boy.

“Why don’t you take Milo inside, and I’ll get your stuff,” you suggest, laying a hand on Nate’s shoulder as you stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Milo’s entire face is lit up with a smile, excitedly hitting Nate’s shoulders gently. “I don’t think he would like it very much if you put him down,” you say with a smile.

Milo cried in your arms for hours last night, begging for his Dada, and now that he finally has him, the last thing you want to do is separate your son and his father.

Nate looks baffled at the suggestion. “No, baby, what? I’ll just get my stuff later, it’s okay.”

You shake your head. “Go inside with Milo. Spend a little bit of time together, just the two of you. I’ll get your stuff,” you insist.

Nate’s still hesitant, but he nods, kissing you once more before taking Milo inside. Milo’s babbling nonsense excitedly, placing his little hands on Nate’s cheeks, leaning forward to give his Dada a messy kiss. Nate smiles and kisses is son’s chubby cheek, making his way to the recliner in the living room, sitting down and settling Milo on his lap. Milo can’t stop smiling, snuggling into Nate’s chest, sighing contentedly.

“I missed you, bubba,” Nate murmurs, softly kissing the top of Milo’s head. The smell of his baby shampoo combined with the feeling of his soft hair nearly brings tears to Nate’s eyes. After being apart from his son for so long, and how horrible he felt during that entire series with VGK, being reunited with him feels like being able to breathe again. You once described being a parent as having your heart living outside your body, and that’s exactly what it is. Holding Milo again, seeing him smile and be excited to see him… absolutely nothing compares. “I love you so much, Milo Graham. Don’t ever forget that.”

Milo just giggles and uses his dad’s shoulders to pull himself to a a standing position on Nate’s lap, looking at his dad like he hung the moon and the stars.

Nathan MacKinnon has won a Stanley Cup, and nothing has ever felt more fulfilling than being a father. Milo is the light of his life, his favorite person in the whole entire world. You’re a close second, a very very close second, but still. You feel the same way. The connection you both have with your son is special, and you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

After a few minutes of cuddling, Milo gets bored, and starts babbling about Bluey, so Nate reaches for the remote. As soon as Bluey is turned on, both Nate and Milo go silent, locked in to the epsiode. Nate likes to tell you that he doesn’t really care about Bluey, but you know that’s not true. And when you walk into the living room ten minutes later, after getting everything from the car and putting all the bags in the right places so Nate can unpack later, you smirk as your suspicions of him loving Bluey just as much as his son are confirmed when you walk into the living room and find both your boys staring at the TV.

It doesn’t take long for Nate and Milo to fall asleep. Milo’s tired from how badly he fought sleep last night, insisting on staying awake until Nate came home. Nate’s exhausted from the game last night, and the fact that he was unable to sleep due to not being able to stop thinking about it, despite your greatest attempts to take his mind off of it from your phone call.

They’re cuddled together on the recliner, comforted by each other, and the safety of being at home together. You throw a blanket over them, leaving Bluey playing as white noise, and then start going about your day.

The rest of the day is calm, peaceful. When Nate and Milo wake up from their nap, Milo’s energy is renewed. They go into the backyard and play with Maggie for a while. You sit on the porch with your laptop, working on the things you’ve been pushing off the last few days in favor of making sure Milo was happy and comfortable.

Watching Nate and Milo together always warms your heart, brings a smile to your face. You giggle as Milo tackles Nate, both of them laughing, Maggie barking excitedly near them.

Getting swept in the Western Conference Finals was tough, and it’s something that Nate is going to be beating himself up over for the next few months, probably longer. You try your best to have him give himself some grace, but you know that it’s not that easy.

You can see though, that when he’s with Milo, all of that is gone from his mind. That when Milo is in Nate’s arms, the only thing he’s thinking about is being a good present father.

Nate insists that the two of you take Milo to his favorite park in the neighborhood, so you do that after dinner. Milo sat on Nate’s lap during the entire meal, wanting to be as close to his dad as possible. You tried to put him in his high chair, but he started screaming and crying, so you allowed him to sit with Nate. Nate definitely wasn’t complaining, smiling wide and feeding his son without complaint. He didn’t even look upset in the slightest when Milo accidentally smacked Nate’s mashed potatoes, sending them splashing around the table. He just laughed and grabbed a napkin, wiping the potatoes off Milo’s face.

Milo has the time of his life at the park. You sit on a bench and play fetch with Maggie while Nate plays on the jungle gym with Milo. You usually play with them, but you know that the only person Milo wants right now is Nate, so you let them have their time together. Sometimes, when Nate gets like this, you think about how intimidating he is on the ice, and wonder what fans would think of seeing him like this, soft and sweet and at the complete and utter mercy of a one year old.

By the time bedtime comes around, Milo’s absolutely tuckered out. Nate gives him his bath and gets him ready for bed, which gives you some time to yourself. You do a face mask and cuddle into bed with your kindle, a trashy reality television show playing on the TV. You make your way into Milo’s room after his two stories, give him a kiss on the cheek and say goodnight, before Nate puts him down.

Unlike last night, Milo falls asleep in seconds, and is out like a light. You smile, heart feeling full, and say to Nate: “He just missed his daddy.”

Back in you and Nate’s bedroom, after his shower he comes and lays his head down on your chest. Your hand immediately finds its way to his hair, combing your fingers through it and scratching his scalp in the way you know always calms him down. He’s freshly shaven, all evidence of the playoffs gone, humming humming contentedly as he burrows into the plushness of your chest.

“I’m glad I’m home,” he murmurs, voice muffled slightly. “I’m… upset, of course. That was probably the worst playoffs series of my career. But I’m home now, with you and Milo. And that’s all that matters right now.”

You kiss his forehead softly. “We’re glad you’re home too, my love. I know you think you’re defined by how well you play, but Milo and I don’t care. We’re proud of you no matter what.”

“That’s sweet,” Nate grumbles, “but that was embarrassing. Getting swept by Vegas? It’s not just that it’s Vegas, it’s… I wanted to kill that fucking goalie. I wanted to punch him so fucking bad.”

“I know,” you say, trying to soothe him with your tone and continuing to massage his head. His hands have formed fists at your sides, and all you want is for him to release that stress again. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You tried your best, and that’s what matters.”

Nate huffs, eyes drifting closed. You know that nothing you say right now can make it better, can make him forget everything that happened, every move he made, every mistake.

From the very beginning of this series, Nate has made it his personal goal to make number 79 wish he was never born. You’d been so devastated when he was signed to VGK, horrified at the doors this could open, the implication that the things he did don’t matter because he’s “a good goalie.” Nate was heartbroken too, at what that meant for the league, and for the women that are hockey fans. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what it felt like for you, and other women who had to witness a man who did such a horrible thing, still being allowed to play professional hockey.

So the fact that Nate failed to take VGK out of the playoffs? You know it hurts, that he won’t let himself forget it until next year.

For right now though, he’s home. You and Milo have him back for the summer, and that’s all you’re going to think about. The first few days will be tough for Nate, but he’ll forget pretty quick. At least, he won’t dwell on it while he’s at home. Nate makes it a priority to be present when he’s with his family, which is something you appreciate more than words can express.

Nate falls asleep cuddled into you, arms wrapped around your waist, legs tangled together under the sheets. He looks so soft like this, so pretty and calm and relaxed.

You fall asleep to the sound of Bob’s Burgers playing on the TV, and Nate’s steady snoring. The next few months are going to be fun, both calm and chaotic, and you can’t wait. The summer is your favorite season for lots of reasons, but the biggest is that Nate is home with you.

It was a bittersweet homecoming, but you’re glad that he’s back. And even though Nate’s bummed about the outcome of the playoffs too, you know he’s glad to be home, too.

a/n: i really liked writing this fic! it felt very therapeutic (: especially the part where i literally just ranted abt c*rter h*rt! if we wanted more dad!natemack fics i'd totally be into them, i love milo! i hope this brings a little smile to everyone's face and helps you forget about the absolute dumpster fire of a series we just got swept in 🥲

[pearlandemerald]

baby mine - nm²⁹

summary - a day in the life of you and nate on an avs game day on your first week of maternity leave

pairing - nathan mackinnon x doctor!reader

warnings - pregnancy, suggestive content, hints of nesting anxiety, and not proofread

wc - 5.1k

requested - no!

a/n - avs please I can’t do this rn…please

“I feel huge.” You sigh from the couch, looking at the bowl of oatmeal that you had carefully balanced on your bump. 

“You're growing our child, so of course you feel big.” Nathan shakes his head at your antics and continues to meal prep. 

“Yeah, I know, your huge ass baby.” You tilt your head back and look at Nathan in the kitchen upside down. 

“Baby girl is not that big.” He puts more meals into the refrigerator, “Eat your breakfast, please, Y/N.”

“That’s not my name.” You retort, sounding like a petulant child. 

“It is your name.” 

“No…you refer to me as baby, babe, my wife, or light of my life. Not Y/N.” You tap the bowl but make no move to eat it. 

“Baby, please eat your breakfast before I leave for practice. I don’t want to have to tell Bednar the reason why I’m playing shitty is that my pregnant wife didn’t eat her breakfast.” He puts away the last of the meal containers and walks over to you, sitting on the couch with you. 

“Fine, did you put Nutella and strawberries in here like I asked? Last time you were very skimpy on Nutella.” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I did, but you didn’t check the bowl when I gave it to you, did you?” He picks the bowl up off your bump and urges you to sit up. 

“No, I just let you set it on my bump, and I thought it would be fun to see how long it would stay.” You smile sheepishly and take the bowl back. Taking a peek inside, you see there is a generous amount of both strawberries and Nutella on the oatmeal. “I’ll eat it now.”

“Thank you.” Nathan watches you take a bite before kissing your forehead and getting up. “I’ll be back around noon, then we’ll finish up the nursery. Please don’t touch it while I’m gone. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

“I won’t, I’ll probably watch something.” You shrug. “There are some shows I want to start.”

“Whatever keeps you out of the nursery.” He agrees and walks to grab his gear. 

“This oatmeal is really good, babe.” You hum and take a few more bites. 

“All to your liking?” 

“Yeah, perfect amount of Nutella this time.” Nathan comes back with his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“I’m glad, I’ll be back to make lunch.” You smile over at him, and he sits on the arm of the couch.

“Okay. I’m coming to the game tonight, though. I can’t keep staying in this fucking house, or else I’ll lose my goddamn mind.” You sigh and lean your head into your hand. 

“I don’t want you to lose your mind staying in this house.” He chuckles.

“Oof.” You put a hand on your bump as your baby girl kicks. “She’s active today.”

Nathan reaches down and places a hand on the curve of your stomach. “Very active, be nice to your momma, baby girl. I have to go now, or I’m gonna be late. I'll see you in a few hours.”

“Drive safe.” He nods and cups your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. 

“I will.”

“Good. Now I can’t have my baby daddy being late to practice.” You peck his mouth again. 

“Baby daddy? I’m your husband.” Nathan scoffs, and you laugh. 

“My husband, who is going to be late. You have full permission to blame me, and tell Bednar to call me.” 

“You’re in a silly mood this morning. I love you, my beautiful wife, who is doing such a good job keeping our baby safe. I’ll be home later.” He kisses you one last time. 

“I love you too.”

Nathan leaves for practice, and you settle back into the couch with your oatmeal. You try to get comfortable watching a show, but the thought of the still unfinished nursery. You know Nathan would kill you for even setting foot in there. However, your mind keeps wandering, and the trash TV show you’re watching does nothing to distract you. Your eyes flick up the stairs, and you sigh. Pushing yourself off the couch, you waddle up the stairs. God, you hate fucking waddling. 

The nursery is almost finished, the crib is halfway built, the walls are painted to a pretty light blue, and all of the clothes, toys, and diapers need to be organized. It’s all so disorganized, and you need to do something about it. 

Your phone rings on the changing table, another thing that needs to be finished, you grab it and press it to your ear. 

“Hey Y/N, how are you doing today?” Melissa Landeskog says cheerfully over the line. 

“Nate’s gonna kill me.” You sigh and open the boxes of baby clothes and stuffed animals. 

“I'm sure whatever you're doing wouldn't warrant that.” 

“It’s been about twenty minutes since he left for practice, and I did the one thing he asked me not to do.” You want to turn around and walk away from the room, but you just can’t. “I’m in the nursery, and I just keep on thinking about all the things that need to be done in this house before the baby gets here. God, I think I’m going crazy, like I’ve been home for what? Three days? And I already have cabin fever.”

“Slow down, honey. Do you need me to come over and help you sort everything out? I would happily do that.” Melissa offers generously. 

“No, I can’t do that. Nate already said he would help me once he got back from practice. I just can’t seem to sit still.” You slump into the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room.

“You’re normally so busy, Y/N, it’s fine that you’re feeling this way. But you’re having a baby, honey.” 

“I know I am, I just feel so useless.” You rock slowly back and forth, hand resting on your belly.

“You’re pregnant, not useless.” Melissa chuckles. 

“Well, it doesn’t feel that way, I mean, my attending benched me from all surgeries, so I was doing scut work as if I’m not a goddamn doctor.” You feel tears burning at the back of your eyes, “I’ve just been doing so much since the moment I left home at 18, that being told to sit back and relax makes me want to say damn them all and do everything. Sorry, I’m just emotional right now.”

“Never apologize, you have every right to feel this way. But I have to ask, have you told Nathan any of this?” Melissa is a voice of reason, like an older sister who knows just what to say. “I’m taking your silence as a no.”

“I just don’t want to bother him with it, he’s stressed about making the playoffs, and I’m 36 weeks pregnant. He has enough on his plate.” You rub your temples.

“You are his top priority, like the utmost important thing in his life right now. Playoffs be damned, he wants you to be safe. So telling him how you’re feeling is something he deserves to know.” Everything Melissa says makes you realize how in the dark you’ve been keeping him. All for the so-called sake of protecting him, but have you really?

“Thanks for this, Mel. I should talk to him.” You come to the conclusion easily. 

“You should. If no one has told you yet, you’re doing great. You and Nate are going to be amazing parents.” The words catch up to you, and a tear rolls down your face. 

“Thank you, it really means a lot.”

“It’s really no problem,” Melissa guffaws, “Will I see you at the game later?”

“Yeah, you will.” You sniff and wipe at your eyes. 

“Good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/N.” Melissa says. 

“Bye Mel.” 

The phone call ends, and you drop your phone into your lap with a sigh. You don’t really feel like getting up from the chair, and there’s a box of toys next to you. You pick up a dog plush that someone got you for the baby shower. You stroke its head and set it on the curve of your bump. Baby girl kicks, and you let out a watery laugh. 

“Like the dog baby girl?” You ask, and the flutters come back, “I guess so. It’s all yours, girly.”

You keep on rocking back and forth, cradling the plush against your chest. Your eyes begin to close, and sleep overtakes you. 

•••

“Y/N!” Nathan yells, and you’re awoken from your nap. “Baby, where are you?”

You clear your throat, “I’m up here.” 

You hear him walk up the stairs and peer into the doorway of the nursery, the worry is clear on his face. “I told you I would be back to help.”

“I didn’t touch anything. I just got anxious, but Mel and I talked for a bit, so that took my mind off things. Then I fell asleep.” You feel bad because Nathan looks extremely concerned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He crouches in front of you. “Do you want to get this done now or have lunch first?”

“Lunch.” You agree. 

“Alright.” He helps you up from the rocking chair and places a hand on your lower back. “What did Mel have to talk you down from?”

“I guess I should talk to you about it.” You look over your shoulder at him. “I’ve been feeling pretty useless lately, like yes, I went on maternity leave three days ago, but I was feeling useless at work for weeks too. But I didn’t want to bother you because you have games, road trips, and the playoffs to think about, so I didn’t tell you.”

“Y/N…”

“I know, I know. I should have told you.” Nate sits you down on the stools underneath the kitchen island. 

“Yeah, you should have. We’ve been together for 7 years now, baby, married and not. I want to know about everything that concerns you, tell me everything.” You nod and lean into the hand he has pressed to your cheek. 

“I will promise.” You agree, and Nathan smiles. 

“Good, now what do you want to eat?”

“Like a crispy sandwich, pesto, cheese, prosciutto, arugula, and focaccia. We should have everything for that. I bought some when I went to the store yesterday.” You pat his ass as he walks into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, it looks like we have everything. Do you want to drive with me to the game? I’d feel better if we could arrive and leave together, not that you can’t drive.” Nate pulls out all of the ingredients. 

“Three hours is a long time to wait at the arena. Maybe you could drop me off at Landy’s house, and I can go with Melissa.” You hop off the stool and round the island to the other side of the kitchen.

“Sounds good, then we can leave together, and we don’t have to worry about a second car.” He watches you waddle around prepping ingredients. “I can make you lunch, you don’t need to help.” 

“We just had a conversation about me feeling useless. I haven't had this much time off since our honeymoon, so sitting still is not appealing to me.” You slice open the bread and start to spread butter on it. 

“Right, sorry, umm…I’ll get started on the arugula topping.” Nathan backs down, honoring your need for autonomy. 

“Perfect.” You hum, and the two of you get to work. 

You both work in tandem perfectly, making lunch and eventually working your way upstairs to the nursery. Nathan finishes the crib, and you begin putting away the onesies, toys, and other accoutrements that are perfect for a newborn baby. 

“She kicked when I put this on my bump.” You show Nate the dog plush that causes the flutters from your baby. 

“Did she?” He takes the stuffed animal with a grin. “Just like her dad.”

“She better have some of me in there.”

“She should get your smarts, cause everyone knows that you’re leagues smarter than me.” He kisses your head and places the plush into the crib. 

“Very true, I can say I’ve never had a concussion.” You jab at him. 

“And I’ve had more than I can count.” He chuckles. 

“I know, your nose didn’t always look like that.”

“Hey, it has charm.” He touches his nose, and you smile. 

“It does.” You press your head to his shoulder. “We should start getting ready. This is the best we can do for now.”

“Yeah, we need to get going here soon. I have to be at the arena by 4, so I’ll need to drop you off soon.” He agrees, and you turn off the light in the nursery and make your way to the master bedroom. 

“What to wear, what to wear.” You hum and rummage through your closet. 

“Be comfortable.”

“Believe me, I will.” You pull out the only maternity jeans you own and try to pull them on. “Help.”

“Come here, sit on the bed.” He chuckles as you sit down on the bed and Nate helps you into the jeans, “and how about a sweatshirt?”

“Yes, please, I want the maroon one, the one the WAGs got for Christmas.” You watch him walk back into the closet, half-dressed in a suit.

“This one?” You nod, and he hands it to you. “What about a shirt underneath in case you start to get hot?”

“Alright.” You take off the baggy shirt you were wearing and grab a long tank top that fits over your bump. You put the sweatshirt on over top and fall back onto the bed, feeling slightly winded. “Why is it so hard to do that?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” You laugh and watch him get ready, eyes trailing up and down his body. “Fuck if I wasn’t pregnant already, I’d let you get me pregnant.”

“Jesus Christ, woman, you can’t just say things like that.” Nate blushes hard.

“What? That I think my husband is hot?” You sit up and flutter your eyes at him, making him blush again. “Can I not say that?”

“No, you can.”

“But you have to focus, be ‘Nathan MacKinnon’ right now to get into the mindset, and I’m distracting you.” You track him around the room with your eyes. 

“You are extremely distracting, sitting there pregnant with my kid and saying you’d let me get you pregnant again.” Nate stops fixing his collar and looks at you like you personally offended him. “Recipe for distraction.”

“Caveman.” You tease, and he does the final button on his shirt. 

“No, just completely devoted to you.”

“Don’t I know it.” You push off the bed and pad around looking for the perfect shoes to wear with your outfit. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go. I’ll meet you downstairs?” He peeks into the closet, and you give a nod. 

“I’ll be a second.” You grab a pair of white sneakers with maroon accents and take a few seconds to put them on. “Is my purse down there?”

“Yeah, it’s on the counter!” Nate yells up the stairs, and you begin your slow descent down them. Taking a step at a time, trying not to throw your balance.  

“Let’s go, you have pregame prep to do.” You take your purse from his hands, and both of you get into the car. 

•••

You and Melissa get to the arena around 6:30. Both of the Landeskog children are with a babysitter, so a child-free night was upon you both. Well, other than the nearly fully formed child inside of you. Security lets you in easily, and you both walk to the family suite. 

“You’re literally glowing.” Melissa holds the door open for you.

“Really? I just feel huge, like I’m actually waddling around and shit.” You sit down on the seats closest to the glass of the suite. 

“Normal part of pregnancy, hon, the waddle gets to everyone eventually.” Melissa grins. 

“Ugh, I know, it still sucks.” You settle into the chair. “My street cred in the hospital is gone.”

“You’re funny.”

“No, seriously, all these new interns come in and the first impression they have of me as a senior resident is me pregnant.” You sigh and lean into your hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so excited to have this baby, because I wanted kids eventually. But I wanted to have kids after I became an attending.”

“You and Nate got this, I promise. And we’re all here for you both. Let me know if you need anything.” Melissa touches your shoulder. 

“I will. Nate’ll take some coaxing, but I’ll reach out, don't worry.” You joke, and Melissa laughs with you

“Good. Now, do you need anything like water or food?” She asks, and you shake your head. 

“All good for now, but thank you.” 

“Alright, just let me know.” She touches your shoulder.

“I will.” You nod and feel your phone buzz in your purse. You pull it out, seeing Nathan’s contact on your screen. “It’s Nate, I'll be right back.”

“Yeah, yeah, go.” Melissa shoos you off, and you press the phone to your ear as you get up out of the seat. 

“Hey, baby.” You speak sweetly into the phone.

“Hey, yourself, did you get to the arena okay?” 

“All in one piece, both me and baby.” You tease, and Nate sighs at your bad joke. 

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sir, yes, sir.” You snicker and lean into the wall next to you. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, but you married me.”

“That I did, and I don't regret it.” His tone is sincere and warms your heart.

“Better not, 'cause you’re stuck with me, MacKinnon. For the next 18 years, then we can reevaluate.”

“I think I’ll need more than the next 18 years with you.” Despite your many attempts at teasing, he always says something so heartfelt that your chest wants to burst. “How does forever sound?”

“Hmm…forever is a long time.” You try to keep up with your previous antics, but you’re melting by the second. 

“Yeah, maybe, but you’re worth it. Both you and the baby.” You’re going to cry, like burst out in tears. 

“Stop being sweet right now, Nathan Raymond MacKinnon. You have a game to play, and I cannot cry before puck drop.” You scold him, not doing a very good job at hiding your watery voice. 

“Government named? You’re being very serious, alright, I’ll stop.” 

“Thank you. Now, go play a good game. I love you.” You dab at the corner of your eye. 

“I love you too. See you after the game.”

“See you after the game.” You repeat, and the call ends quickly after. You sit back down next to Melissa, and a couple of other WAGs that joined you two in the suite. 

“Y/N! You look amazing.” Tracy Makar, places a soft hand on yours. 

“Oh, thank you, getting bigger and bigger by the day.” You settle back into your chair, trying to get comfortable. 

“All a part of the process is what I’m trying to tell her.” Melissa nudges your shoulder, and you roll your eyes. 

“You and everyone else. But my body was not prepared for this baby at all. She is really comfortable.”

“I bet you two have picked out names?” Kerry Toews, the other wife that joined you, asks. 

“We actually have her whole name picked out. My mom got stuff monogrammed for the baby shower, so you’ll have to see it then.” You and Nate had picked out the name months ago. A combination you both loved and has sentimental value to make it feel special. 

“Ooo, I’m excited. You have great taste, so I trust you picked out something that will suit your little girl perfectly.” Tracy clasps her hands together with a wide grin. 

“We love it.” You feel her kick and rub the spot gently. 

“Take these last weeks in, soon your life will be all baby and nothing else.” Mel pats your hand, knowing full well what’s coming for you and Nate. 

“Oh, I know, it's not ideal to have the baby right near the end of the regular season, but we’ll have to make do.”

“Oh, for sure, but like Mel said, we’re here for you.” Kerry reiterates, and you take a deep breath. 

“Thank you, guys. Wait, did you get the invites for the baby shower?” You look at the other three women, panic rising for a second.  

“Yes, they were adorable. I should have sent back the RSVP.” Tracy nods, and you calm down. 

“I should check that. Should’ve probably been the first thing I did.” You shake your head. 

“You’re all good, Y/N.” Mel pats your arm. “Oh, the game is starting.”

All of you move to the edge of your seats and watch the Avs skate out onto the ice. You see #29 move around on the ice, Nathan looks up in your direction, and you give a small wave. Your baby girl kicks at the same time, and you laugh in awe that she’s able to understand. 

The game starts, and you settle back into your seat. 

•••

“That was a bullshit call!” You yell, knowing full well the refs can’t hear you. You plop back into your seat. There are 45.2 seconds left in the third, and the Avs are only up by one. Baby girl is rolling around from excitement, and every so often, one of her limbs catches on a rib or your bladder. “This is ridiculous.”

“The refs are on something tonight.” Mel shakes her head. “If this game goes to overtime, I think I’m gonna head out. Beat the traffic and say good night to the kids.”

“Yeah, I’m so tired.” You agree. “But Nate has the car keys and would be left stranded if I took them.”

“I can take you home if you need. It’s no big deal.” Mel offers. 

Normally, you would decline, but being pregnant has you yearning for your cozy bed. “That would be amazing, thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

You continue to watch the ice, waiting for the confirmation that this game wouldn’t go to overtime and the Avs would get the win. Your eye is starting to twitch a little from being so tired, and the need to rest your eyes is becoming more prevalent. 

The goal horn goes off, and you’re immediately more alert. The Avs score a goal and win the game, you sigh in relief. You won’t have to stay at Ball Arena for longer than necessary, and you get to go home with your husband. Falling asleep in his arms sounds like literal heaven right now. 

“It was a good game, but I’m not staying here longer than I have to. I’ll see you, ladies soon?” Melissa says as all four of you stand up.

“Yes.” You give her a quick hug, and she does the same with Tracy and Kerry. 

“Do you still want a ride back?” Mel asks as she circles back around to you. 

“No, I’m good, no overtime, so I’m going home with Nate.” You shake your head.

“Alright, rest up, honey.” 

“I will.” Melissa heads out, leaving the rest of you to walk to the family room. 

There are a few other families that probably sat in the stands, waiting to see their respective players. You settle on a chair, your hips and back aching from the length of the day, and your eyes drooping with the heaviness of sleep. If Nate doesn’t get out of media soon, you’re probably gonna fall asleep in the room. 

You luckily don’t have to wait too long. Nate walks through the door back in his game day suit. His eyes search around before landing on you, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Hi darling.”’ Nate can see the need for sleep written across your face. “Ready to go home?”

“Please, I’m gonna fall asleep on my feet here soon.” He pulls you up out of the chair, and you step closer into his side. Pregnancy and tiredness make you clingier.

Nate lets his arm fall over your shoulder, and the two of you walk out of the room. Comfortable silence makes its way between the two of you. Nate played a good game, and you’re too tired to talk about anything other than getting in bed. He’s practically guiding you to the car at this point, places are fading out of view as you possibly fall asleep on the walk there.

Nate helps you into the car and buckles your seatbelt. “Wait, I didn’t say goodbye to Tracy and Kerry.”

“I said goodbye for you, they know you are tired.” He eases your worries. 

“Okay, good.” You nod slowly, and he shuts the door. 

Nate starts the car, and the hum of the engine has your eyes fluttering closed for a second. A short moment. Or what you think is only a moment, but when you open your eyes again, the car is pulling into the garage. 

“Oh my god, I fell asleep.” You run a hand through your hair, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. 

“You needed it.” Nate chuckles and turns off the engine, “Head inside I’m gonna grab a package I saw on the front porch.”

“Okay. It might be the stuff my mom got for baby girl.” You tell him and get out of the car. 

“We can take a look.” 

“Okay. Wait for me to open the package.” You toe off your shoes and wait in the kitchen for Nate to come back.

You hear the garage door close, and Nate walks in with a box underneath his arm. He places the box on the counter, letting you read the label.

“Yeah, this is the baby bag, blanket, and onesies that she got monogrammed.” You tap your fingers on the box, “She thinks it would be cute to have it set up on a table at the baby shower and have people try to guess her name from the initials.”

“Let’s take a look at them.” Nate grabs a pair of scissors to cut the box open. 

You take out the tissue paper and pick up the diaper bag with your soon to be daughters initials on it. NRM is written in pretty white cursive, standing out from the black fabric of the bag. Nate takes it from your hands and runs his fingers over the letters, the same ones derived from his own name.

“People won’t think I’m conceited for giving my daughter my own initials, right?”

“If they do, I don’t care, because I love the name we picked out for our child.” You place a hand on his bicep. 

“You’re right.” He nods and moves to look at the other things in the box. “This blanket is cute.”

He pulls out a pink floral blanket with your baby’s first name written on it. “Oh, it’s just darling.” You smile and take it into your own hands. 

“I can’t wait till we have her actually in our arms, holding her in this blanket. Being able to use these onesies and this bag.” He places a hand on your bump, and your baby girl kicks softly. You know Nate feels it from the smile that spreads across his face. 

“I know, we’re so close. 6 or so weeks, then we get to hold her, and she’ll be real and all ours.” You place your hand over his. Nate leans down and kisses your mouth softly. 

“I can’t wait. Until then, you should get into your pajamas and go straight to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours. 

“Yes, please, my back and hips are killing me.”

“Anything I can do for you, baby?” His hand drifts to your lower back, rubbing up and down your spine. 

“Not right now, I just need to go to sleep.” You shake your head and slowly climb the stairs. 

“I agree. You were out in the car, like there was some traffic and people were honking, but you stayed asleep through all of it.” Nate says, following behind you. 

“I’m really tired right now. Growing a baby takes it out of me.” You make eye contact with the bed, and all of a sudden, there’s a gravitational pull. It has you making a beeline for the plush blankets and soft mattress. 

“Not yet, if you get in bed now, I won’t be able to get you out. Wash your face and brush your teeth, and I’ll get your clothes set out for bed.” He steers you in the direction of the bathroom, and you grumble, even though you know Nate is right. 

“Fine.” You huff, the tiredness in your bones makes everything feel slower and heavier.

You pull your hair away from your face and grab your skincare. Washing your face and freeing it of the makeup you had on makes you feel fresher. You catch a glimpse of Nate folding a pair of shorts and a large shirt for you to wear onto the bed, as you grab your toothbrush. You smile at his meticulous preparation of your sleep clothes before squeezing a generous amount of toothpaste and beginning to brush your teeth. 

“Your sleep clothes are on the bed. I’m gonna shower quickly, and then I’ll join you in bed.” Nate joins you in the bathroom, and you give a nod while continuing to brush your teeth. 

You rinse off your toothbrush and wipe your mouth as steam starts to fill the bathroom. You let Nate shower in peace while you free yourself from the maternity jeans and sweatshirt you’d been wearing. Slipping into bed, you prop yourself up with the pillows. Normally, you’d be able to fall asleep just fine without Nathan in the bed, but right now you need him to be near you.

He’s true to his words, and the shower turns off minutes later while you're burrowing into the covers. He emerges from the bathroom hair damp and wearing sleep shorts. 

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He says quietly, climbing into bed.

“Just waiting for you.” You move closer to him, and Nate pulls you into his side. 

“Well, I’m here now, and you can go to sleep.” You nod, eyes drooping, heavy with weariness. 

“Okay, g’night, Nate. I love you.” You mumble. 

“Goodnight, baby, I love you too.” He kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you. A hand lands on the curve of your stomach and says so softly you almost don’t hear. “Goodnight, baby girl, we can't wait to meet you.”

You smile softly, eyes too heavy to open, but in your heart, you know your baby girl will be so loved. You can’t wait to bring her into the world. 

Soon. Really soon.

a/n - I picked out baby girl’s name and then realized afterwards that nate had the same initials. It was a lucky accident, really! what do you guys think it is?

[pearlandemerald]

heeyyy so 5.1k word natemack pregnancy fic coming say tomorrow? how would we feel? thoughts?

I know I’m supposed to be writing for Connor rn but I’ve been working on this one laboriously for the last week and I’m really excited for it! So keep your eyes peeled!

[bedsyandco]

• ✿ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 ﹐ CB⁹⁸ ࿐

🫙 . ꒷ ︵ ℓo͟v͟ꫀ jar .ᐟ 𝓯!reader. suggestive content. mdni. connor never wants to stop kissing you ⊹ ׂ ♡

connor couldn’t exactly put into words what it was about seeing the hickeys on his skin that made his pulse stutter. he’s been bruised up more times than he could count, and despite some of the hockey related bruises looking suspiciously similar to the marks currently dotting his neck, none of those bruises ever made his stomach flip the way these did.

maybe it was the way you left them. the sexy, slightly desperate way you licked and sucked at his skin. maybe it was knowing that the marks came from the intention of love, affection and want, not harm. either way connor wasn’t thinking much about the why of it all while you were plopped on his lap, adding to your collection.

“jeez baby.” the words were barely audible, husky and warm as they floated past his swollen lips. his hands tightening on your waist only encouraged you more, adjusting his head further back as you kiss and nibble at the skin below his jaw. “the guys are gonna give me so much shit for this.”

“want me to stop?” your tongue runs along his chain, and you can’t help but grin at the breathy whimper that escapes when you scrape your teeth over his adam’s apple.

“no. don’t ever stop.” he begs, panting against your forehead as you continue your little bites of affection down towards his chest.

“i don’t know about ever, baby. i mean we need to eat and—” he interrupts your rambling with three quick pecks. one, two, three. your hands land on his biceps as he lifts his hips, desperately seeking any friction against his dick that was staining against his grey sweatpants.

“we don’t need to eat.” he whispers feverishly, the little head shake he gives so earnest and genuine it makes you giggle.

“no?” you ask teasingly, trailing a finger down his stomach and grinning at the way it clenches beneath your touch. “you don’t need to eat? you’re not hung—”

he cuts you off with another string of kisses, following each time you try to pull away. “no…” he mumbles against your lips, shaking his head again to reiterate. “just need this—you. please.”

you cup his face, thumb skimming over his bottom lip. it’s still swollen from the kisses, from your teeth, from the way he keeps chasing you. his eyes flick down to your mouth and back up again, pupils blown, lashes a little damp.

“you have me.” you whisper, smiling as you kiss the corner of his jaw. “but you’re not gonna have me much longer if we don’t eat because i’m starving.” as if summoned, your stomach makes a loud growl and connor’s eyes widen, rubbing your stomach as if he could soothe the hunger away.

“as much as i love you mauling me, you do know that i don’t have any nutritional value right?” connor teases, tightening his arms around your waist.

“i don’t knowwww…these biceps could feed families, con.” you squeeze both his arms, giggling when he lowers his head and gives a playful bite to your shoulder.

“very funny.”

[pearlandemerald]

oh to gnaw on a bicep…🫩