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I have so much love and respect for women who are honest about their own loneliness but also find the good in it like when audrey hepburn said “I have to be alone very often. I’d be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That’s how I refuel” and when charlotte bronte said “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself” and when jenny slate said “I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am. But that’s why I want to do comedy, and why I want to connect with people. You can use that ribbon to be a part of a finer tapestry, or you can choke yourself out with it! Your choice!” and when mary oliver said “whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh & exciting - over & over announcing your place in the family of things”
hi lovely! so excited for your summer event! may i please request removing their make up and hair products for them after a hard day with cale? thank you! :)
list no.2, fluff prompt no.27: removing their makeup and hair products for them after a hard day
by the time you get home, your skin feels awful. sticky from the heat, makeup settled too heavily after a long day out, hairspray making your scalp ache every time you move. it’s nothing even crazy—just your usual light makeup for work, and a slicked back hairstyle because you’d been too lazy to get up and wash your hair this morning—but it feels like you’re caked and pinned to oblivion.
and it’s definitely because it’s sweltering outside, and inside for that matter. sweat soaking under your arms and making your upper lip salty—which is just only adding to the overstimulation you’re feeling right now.
so the second you walk into your condo, you kick your shoes off near the door with more aggression than the situation calls for, and let out a tired groan.
immediately it gets the attention of your boyfriend, cale, who looks up immediately from where he’s stretched across the couch, phone in hand because he’s definitely scrolling sports highlights like he’s not sick of them.
“there she is,” he grins like you’re the best part of your day, which makes the whole bad day grimace on your face falter, because you’re so in love with him it’s not even funny.
you put your keys in the little bowl on the side table before shuffling towards him. barely managing a half convincing smile before collapsing dramatically beside him. “I think I’m dying.”
he laughs softly, setting his phone down. “long day?”
“sooooo long.” you whine just as cale holds his arm up for you to tuck yourself into his side, which you do without question.
the condo is cool compared to the humid summer evening outside, even with the balcony door cracked open just enough to let warm air and distant city noise drift through. you can smell his cologne woven into his shirt, along with laundry detergent and whatever way he cooked his chicken for lunch. you get if you got up and checked, you’d find a portion left over for you.
it’s so familiar and homey that you honestly could fall asleep on the spot. well, almost.
because your makeup still feels like cement on your face and your scalp is starting to itch from product build up—and you’re definitely still clammy to the touch.
but cale is seemingly unaware—or maybe just unphased—by all of the above. because he settles in like this is the position until bedtime, even presses two sweet little pecks to your oily forehead like your makeup isn’t currently separated.
you groan again, rubbing at one eye. “I still have to wash all this off.”
his brows pull towards his nose, eyes flickering over your face while you continue to pout. “what?”
“my makeup,” you huff and pull away from him, although it’s a struggle because you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to get those little kisses again. “I feel dirty,” you state.
cale catches your wrist gently before you can continue to smear mascara everywhere. “hey,” he chastises even more gentle than his touch, cheeks rosy like always, “don’t. you’re gunna get it all over.”
you roll your eyes, even though your stomach swoops at that. “i’m tired.”
“I know.” his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles before he tilts his head toward the hallway. “c’mon,” he says quietly, already helping you off the couch. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
and your heart turns to mush.
a few minutes later, you’re sitting on your shared bathroom counter that’s attached to your bedroom, while cale stands between your knees with the softest expression you’ve ever seen on him.
with a gentle hand, he uses a makeup removing wipe to get rid of the bulk of makeup on your face, using nothing out tender strokes around your eyes, over your cheeks and forehead. traces your cupids bow like he can’t help himself, which makes your snicker to yourself.
but despite yourself, it feels like heaven.
“this is very intimate,” you mumble after a beat.
your boyfriends just hums, because he’s like, way too focused to properly comment on that. which is unexpectedly endearing.
one hand rests lightly against your jaw to steady you while the other continues to wipe away the smudges mascara beneath your eyes. brows furrowed slightly in concentration, so much so that you have to resist leaning forward to kiss away the dimple there.
“you’re very focused right now,” you note, voice barley above a whisper because the moment feels too fragile to be any louder.
on either side of his hips, your legs swing back and forth like a kid, brushing up against his shorts.
cale grins at that, but doesn’t take his steadying hand off your jaw. “this is precision work.”
you laugh softly, and the sound makes his smile grow a fraction.
little by little, the day starts melting off you. the makeup continues to disappear, but it’s followed by the tension in your shoulders dispersing. then the exhaustion sitting heavy behind your eyes suddenly falling away.
suddenly, the heat feels different. and it has everything to do with the man standing between your thighs like he belongs there—taking care of you like you’re his everything. maybe you are.
after that, you both get into the shower. water not too hot but nowhere near cold. cale washes you down, massages off all signs of sweat and the day, and pays extra attention to your scalp—removing all build up with the ridiculously expensive shampoo he always buys you because he insists you deserve it.
when your conditioner is sitting, hair lathered and heavy down your spine, he leans down and kisses your gently. it lingers, but doesn’t deepen—it’s doesn’t need to—it says a million things words can’t.
“thank you,” you whisper against his mouth, eyes already starting to flutter closed as the combination of the lengthy day, sweltering heat, and your boyfriends gentle care begins to catch up with you.
cale tilts your head further back so you meet his gaze, and he smiles almost like you’ve said something funny. “you don’t need to thank me pretty girl.”
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you should really get comfortable believing in love and magic and whimsy or you’ll continue to live a half-life for the rest of the time you have on earth
if you feel a pull towards something — something vast, something unknown, something that whispers, something that calls over and over — you have to go to it. if there is no known path to it, make one. in this time it seems that all paths are laid out, all options exist and you can get the exact directions to the place you want to go. but this isn’t true. your path, your destination, that whisper is for you. you are not trying to go where others are, are you? but instead to a life that is yours? follow the pull. live in invention.
oh someone told me something useful yesterday. she said she’s been thinking about her tbr less as an overwhelming list of books she Must Read and more like she’s cultivating a wine cellar. making a rich collection that will provide the perfect thing when needed. a bottle will get uncorked when the time is right
When the Colorado Avalanche are down a goal and the building feels tight.
Composed. Intelligent. Unshakable.
You try not to smile when you hear it.
Because you know the version of him that leaves cupboard doors open and forgets where he put his phone while it’s still in his hand.
You know the version that hums absentmindedly while making grilled cheese at midnight.
You know the version that stands in the kitchen in socks, sliding across hardwood floors like a kid when he thinks you’re not looking.
You know Cale.
And you’ve known him long before the trophies.
⸻
The apartment in Denver is warm against the early winter cold. Snow gathers quietly on the balcony railing.
It’s a regular season game tonight. Nothing dramatic. Just another game in a long year.
But Cale still gets that way before puck drop.
Quiet. Not distant — just inward.
You’re sitting on the couch when he comes out of the bedroom in a suit, tie slightly crooked.
“Does it look okay?” he asks.
You tilt your head, studying him like you always do. “Come here.”
He steps between your knees without hesitation. Years together have made this automatic. You fix his tie slowly, smoothing the fabric of his jacket with your palms.
“You get quiet on game days,” you murmur.
“I do not,” he replies softly.
You raise a brow.
He exhales, small smile forming. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
Your hands slide up to cup his face. His skin is warm under your thumbs.
“You don’t have to solve the whole game before you leave the apartment.”
“I’m not,” he insists gently.
“You are.”
He looks down at you in that thoughtful way he does — like he’s analysing a play — and then he sighs.
“I just want to play well.”
“I know.”
“For the guys. For the team.”
You nod. That’s who he is. Always thinking about everyone else.
You lean up slightly, brushing your nose against his.
“Play free,” you whisper.
It’s what you’ve told him for years. Before college games. Before playoff games. Before his first NHL game when his hands were shaking even though he swore they weren’t.
He closes his eyes for a second, forehead resting against yours.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
And he means it.
⸻
You sit in your usual seat at Ball Arena.
He always finds you during warmups.
Always.
Tonight is no different.
He skates past once, twice — then finally looks up. The smallest grin curves at the corner of his mouth when he sees you. Subtle. Just for you.
You mouth it.
Play free.
He nods.
⸻
He scores in the second period.
It’s not flashy. Just perfectly timed. Classic Cale. Smart. Clean. Precise.
The arena erupts.
He doesn’t celebrate wildly. Just a quick fist pump — then his eyes flick to the stands.
To you.
And you’re already standing.
Already smiling.
⸻
Later that night, the two of you are back home.
He’s showered, hair damp, hoodie on. He collapses onto the couch beside you with a soft groan.
“Good game,” you say.
He shrugs modestly. “It was alright.”
You turn to him fully. “You were incredible.”
He studies your face like he’s checking if you’re exaggerating.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I know.”
That’s what makes it different. You’ve been here for the losses. The rough stretches. The games where he barely spoke on the drive home.
You love him on the off nights just the same.
He shifts closer, pulling you gently into his chest. His chin rests on top of your head.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“For… being steady.”
You smile against him. “That’s your thing.”
“Not here,” he says softly. “You’re my steady.”
The words settle warm in your chest.
Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, the world feels small and safe.
He presses a soft kiss into your hair.
Years in, and it still feels like this.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
Just certain.
And when he falls asleep with his arm wrapped around you, breathing slow and even, you think about how the world sees a superstar defenseman.
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There were few chances for you to dress up in a beautiful gown and get dolled up to the nines, but the formal team events that the Avalanche held were definitely some of them. This evening was one of those times, and you’d specifically gone shopping with some of the other better halves to make sure that the dress you ended up choosing was a surprise for your boyfriend.
And surprised he was.
“You like it?” you asked hopefully.
“Fuck, you look amazing,” Cale murmured, eyes wide as they roved over your body.
Well that was one hell of a review.
“I know I usually go for soft pastels, but this royal blue really sang to me,” you added, brushing your thumb over the sweetheart neckline.
You grinned as his eyes followed the movement of your thumb, just as you thought they would.
“It really suits you. Like, really really. You look…wow. I’m the luckiest guy, I swear,” he murmured.
His sweet words made your cheeks heat up, and you huffed out a laugh but smiled softly at him.
“You are too sweet,” you said, picking up your clutch bag, “And we are going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”
Cale grimaced slightly, glancing at his watch before looking back at you wistfully. Bless him.
“I’m going to need help taking this off later, you know,” you mused.
His eyes glazed over slightly, letting you clearly know what he was picturing, before he seemed to shake himself out of it.
“Then I’m sure it’ll look just as amazing on our bedroom floor. Let’s go, so we can leave early,” he grinned.
You just laughed at his bluntness but looped your hand into the crook of his arm, letting him guide you down the hallway in your high heels. Leaving early wouldn’t be the worst outcome after all.
~
Cale’s heart eyes continued through the night, something which he didn’t bother hiding from his teammates, so there was more than enough teasing to keep you entertained when you weren’t talking to guests outside of your small circle. The two of you mingled through the night, as was expected, but you still had moments where you could just appreciate him too. Like in this moment, where you were sitting together at an empty table to the side of the floor, taking a few minutes to rest your feet and have a glass of Prosecco.
“Are you having fun?”
Cale’s voice broke you out of your people watching, and you nodded without hesitating.
“Yeah, you know I love these events! So much fun seeing everyone outside of game days,” you said, smiling.
He smiled back at you, looking mildly relieved – bless his heart – before his smile turned a little serious and he cleared his throat.
“Come on, dance with me,” Cale said, firm tone tinged with hope.
“What?”
Cale wanted to dance? He never wants to dance.
“You heard me. Up and at ‘em,” he grinned.
Well now you were just intrigued.
With a quirked eyebrow, you got to your feet, taking Cale’s offered hand in your own, letting him lead you onto the dancefloor into the middle of all the other pairs dancing.
“What are you up to, Cale Makar?” you murmured, resting one hand on his shoulder as he placed his free hand on your waist, the clasped hands still held together.
“Can’t I want to dance with my girlfriend like all our friends are?” Cale said simply.
You glanced around, noting the familiar couple interspersed with the crowd, but still found yourself frowning a little.
“I mean, I’m not complaining, but this is very out of the blue. Nothing’s wrong, right?” you asked hesitantly.
“No, fuck no, everything’s fine I promise,” he said quickly, smiling to reassure you, “I just…I know you don’t usually get to dance at these events because I feel so awkward and just avoid it all, so I thought it was about time I sucked it up and danced with you like you deserve.”
Oh that sweetheart.
“The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable, you know that,” you said softly.
“I know,” he said, smiling down at you, “Which is why I am comfortable in trying to push myself out my comfort zone.”
Well you couldn’t argue with that.
“Plus…”
Oh?
“…you look so beautiful tonight and I really want to show you off,” he said, smirking slightly.
You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his cheek, his smirk shifting into a full grin, and you knew you were garnering attention from the couples dancing around you but you didn’t care.
“You really are something else,” you giggled, shaking your head.
“As long as I’m yours, I don’t care,” he shrugged, still grinning.
Oh he was definitely yours – and that’s exactly how you wanted him to stay, especially if it meant keeping that sweet smile looking your way.
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