luca-fantilli

[luca-fantilli]

Is it a Dark Day? - Cole Caufield

Word Count - 1.9k

Summary - For the first time since you started dating Cole, your depression seems to be coming back to kick you in the ass. Scared of how Cole will react, you do the only logical thing and pull away.

Warnings - depression, the effects of depression, executive functioning issues, but ends in fluff.

Authors Note: This the first part of a series I plan on writing where I take one mental health issue or any type of disorder and pick a player to write about how they would react if their significant other had it. If you have any ideas for future ones or future players please send me an ask. As always thank you for reading and sorry for not posting much lately. 💜

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Sometimes your brain likes to remind you that you were in fact not a normal happy person. It was an act that you’ve learned to master over the years, sometimes you're such a good actor you even fool yourself. Until your brain reminds you that you are in fact an actor. Someone who plays a part, and it will happen in a flash. Feeling as if you're having a good day, and then suddenly you hear a song that reminds you of something and you start to feel that exhausted and craving your bed. Or you will be out with friends and they remind you of something they find funny but it only reminds you of how much you were struggling at the time. Although the worst one was when you don’t even know the trigger, you could have been having a great time and then suddenly you will be on your couch for the next three days rotting away. 

The worst part was this time, it’s almost like you felt the signs but ignored it. It started with the fact that it had been a stressful week at work, then you felt tired all the time, you found yourself being late to work simply because you couldn’t get yourself out of bed. Sadly, you were used to this popping up every once in while, knowing it was inevitable to get this all too familiar sadly almost welcoming feeling in your head. It’s like you had a brain fog come over and no matter what you did you couldn’t shake the feeling. But this time was different from all the others, this time you were dating the actual definition of a very hyper individual who always had some joke to say or a smile on his face. Cole was quickly becoming one of your favorite human beings but you didn’t want him to see you like this where you haven’t even taken a shower in 2 days. Cole was one of those people that radiated sunshine and it made you sink further into your couch thinking about how he would react to you right now. Again, your brain makes you think that he would judge you like others have for when your brain made you hate yourself. Thankfully, Cole was on a roadie so what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Knowing that you should probably answer Cole’s messages or answer one of his many facetime calls but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. Somehow during the last couple days, your mind seemed to alter your perception of time. Thinking that Cole would still be on his roadie for at least another day. But suddenly you heard banging on your apartment door. 

“Baby?! Open the door please.” Cole pleaded on the other side of the door. Hearing his voice shocked you to your core, part of you wanted to open the door and tackle him. Allowing yourself to feel his comforting warmth hoping that some of it would make you feel even a tiny bit better. The rest of you were screaming to pull yourself more into the hoodie that you were wearing, pulling the blankets higher up to hide your body from the world. Letting your emotions overtake you when you realized you were wearing Cole’s hoodie because you wanted him more than anything 3 days ago when you started your couch rotting. It’s funny how time can change things, because nothing could get you up now and walk 30 feet to go open your apartment door. 

Cole’s pleas and banging didn’t stop, “baby please! Tell me what I did.” he begged through the door. “y/n?” he said much softer than before, you could barely hear it from where you were hiding in your living room. “Please open up or I’m gonna use my key you gave me for emergencies.” The tears that were lightly streaming down your face now full on ugly crying. Of course that was the moment Cole decided to enter your apartment. 

Hearing the door shut behind him as he entered your apartment. “Love where are you?” he asked, before he noticed what appeared to be the shape of your body on the coach. Once Cole did notice you, it was like he was on his knees in front of the sectional in seconds, even though he was on the other side of the apartment. “Mamas you awake, my love?” he asked gently as you felt him taking his palm and rub comforting circles all down your side. As your body registered his voice and processed words and touched your silent sobs became very much more real and loud. 

“Hey shhh babygirl whats wrong?” he asked as his other hand not rubbing circles now your back went to grab the edge of the blanket. In a quiet voice Cole spoke his next words very carefully.  “Honey, baby I'm gonna remove the blanket okay.” 

His voice was telling you that he wasn’t asking but you didn’t care as you started to protest. “No no don’t” your voice started to crack “no I don’t want you to.” As you grabbed the blanket to keep it from moving. 

“Why not?” you could tell in his voice that he was feeling hurt. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” softly you admit not sure if your confession was more of admitting to Cole you didn’t want him to see you or confirming what your body was telling you earlier. 

His voice barely over a whisper “what? Did I hurt you? Baby you haven’t answered a single one of my texts in 2 days, I spent most of today trying to not panic as I called your phone. Please baby let me see if you're okay?” Hearing his voice on the last few words and how he seemed to be fighting his own emotions. Feeling as if your own heart broke at that moment, the last thing you wanted to do was bring Cole down with you. 

“You're gonna judge me.” you mumble, most of you knows that your thoughts are irrational but the part of your brain that’s calling the shots at the moment truly believes. 

“Never.” his voice stern. With that yoo you couldn’t help but let out a little okay. Within seconds you could feel Cole slowly pulling back the safety of your blankets. Only pulling them down enough to see your face. “Hi beautiful.” he grins at you, the relief clear not only in his voice but his face as his eyes are finally able to see you after being radio silent for 2 days. 

He moves your head so that you're looking up at him as he asks you “please tell me what’s wrong.” He moves his hands so that they are able to wipe some of the tears off your face. 

“I don’t know.” your voice squeaking. Finally letting your eyes focus on him, you see his face is full of nothing but worry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-” 

“You’re okay. I’m not mad, baby… I just- I want to know what’s going on in your head.” he admits, and your stomach drops at his confession. Loving Cole was one of your favorite things in your entire life, but Cole was different, he had this way of always being happy. How could someone who you have never even seen to have a frown on his face understand that your brain sometimes fights itself. Leaving you feeling as if even doing the most basic mundane task is out of reach and you don’t even know why. 

Cole has never seen you struggle with your depression and it’s a lot. On top of his busy schedule due to being in the middle of the season, trying to move up from third line or second. Somehow your brain has convinced you all in a matter of minutes that Cole doesn’t have time to sit back and watch you fight your battles. You didn’t even realize that you were lost in thought until you heard Cole’s voice again. 

“Baby” his voice is soft but loud enough for your brain to register that someone was speaking to you. 

“I- I- sometimes I just - my brain it's like it.” Struggling to say what you want to say, finding the words to describe how much you truly feel like death at the moment. 

“Is it a dark day?” he asks gently. You look at him in shock, “it’s okay to have a bad day every once in a while honey. Just please don’t push me away.” softly bending down and kissing your forehead, your body automatically chasing his lips as they leave your forehead. 

“What if it’s more than a day?” you ask.

“Then I’ll be here please just let me love you.” he asks.

“Okay.” feeling yourself caving, allowing Cole to help you, it's almost like your body felt just a sliver of lightness for the first time in days, knowing that Cole felt the same way with the smile he had on his face. 

He moved his hands so they were under your arms gently lifting you so he could lay comfortably with you on the coach. “Okay we can lay here for a little longer, then I’m gonna help you shower and get some clean sweats on alright?” 

All you can do is nod, feeling overwhelmed with the love that Cole is showing you. Cole stayed true to his words after a few minutes he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. Balancing on the balls of his feet in front of you on the toilet seat, his hands resting in yours on your thighs.He already turned on the water to warm up “Do you want me to stay or are you gonna shower by yourself.” 

“Don’t leave.” the phrase rushing out of you, feeling scared if you didn’t get it out fast enough Cole would leave you again with nothing left but your thoughts to keep you company.

“I won’t until you tell me. We can shower together it’s okay” Finally making eye contact with him again, a giant pout on your lips looking as if you were gonna cry again. He took one of his hands that was resting with yours and took it to your face. “Hey hey you're alright. I promise. This will pass.” Finally moving his lips to yours for the first time since he came over, it was full of nothing less than the love he felt for you. He poured every single emotion into that kiss, it made you feel loved, safe, adored, cared for. Finally pulling apart you whisper a small ‘thanks.’ “Let’s get you cleaned up baby.” As he helps you undress and then quickly shedding his own clothes before helping you in the shower. He helped you wash your body and your hair, giving you little wet kisses all over your body, whispering reassuring words between the kisses. He wasn’t trying to start anything, he just wanted to show you how much he loved you when you couldn’t find anything to love about yourself. 

Cole stayed with you that night, actually his only entire weekend off. He had to go to morning skate that Monday morning since it wasn’t optional. But from that weekend on you never felt closer to Cole. He was your light even on your darkest days, and he helped you find yourself every time you felt your depression pulling you away. Every time he noticed you randomly ghosted him. Or seemed distant in your eyes like your mind was somewhere else, he would always ask you one simple question “is today a dark day?” so that he always knew how to care for his girl.

[luca-fantilli]

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras

Word Count - 3600

Author's Note - I 100 percent projected my own dysleixia hardcore into this. This was 100 percent written for the dyslexic girlies and learning disability girlies only. Also not me accidentally maybe becoming a Trevor girlie after writing this oh no. This one is by far my favorite segment.

Warnings - light angst but like it ends happy shocking for this page, who am I becoming???

Summary - In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

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This isn’t something new to you, you’ve struggled your entire life with the fact that you're dyslexic. It’s a lot more complicated than people may recognize. Many people assume that it only comes up when you're trying to read something like a textbook or an article, and that when you’re finished with school it won’t really affect your daily life anymore but that’s far from the truth. In truth, being an adult with dyslexia affects you in little ways daily. From having difficulty knowing your left and right when given verbal directions, your spelling being terrible when texting others, mispronouncing certain words and being easily embarrassed when it gets pointed out, or worse sometimes the word is literally on the tip of your tongue you can even physically see in your brain but your mouth can’t form the proper sounds, how certain fonts you struggle to read vs others, or that black ink on white paper is the bane of your existence.  Although all of these are “little” things, it does impact the way you communicate with others. It does feel extremely frustrating sometimes feeling like people think that you're using your dyslexia as an “excuse” when in reality your brain is wired completely differently because of it. 

Since you first met Trevor and started talking to him, you had that fear you always do in the pit of your stomach, will he pick on you the first time that he truly can’t understand a text or the first time he hears you mispronounce a word despite years of speech therapy where you tried to but still you can’t pronounce correctly. Although, part of you knew that your fear was extremely irrational, part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that was until proven otherwise the jokester in Trevor would make a joke about something you truly couldn’t control. 

That is until today, when it happened it’s one of those rare days when you were driving and Trevor was in the passenger seat. His car was in the shop, and he needed a ride back from the arena to his apartment. Originally he was going to take an Uber but since you both already had plans after the morning skate you insisted on picking him up. 

“It’s easiest if you take this right up here to get back to my place.” He directs you without looking up from his phone,you tell him okay, turn on your left turn signal and get in the left lane. Trevor finally looks up from his phone while you're waiting at the red light for it to turn green to see you're in the wrong lane. 

“Sweetie?” asking in a questioning tone

“Hmmm” 

“This is the left lane. I told you to take a right.” Trevor says in a concerning tone as to how you were five traffic lanes away from where you needed to be. 

“sorry I thought you said ‘left’. I can make a u-turn?” Deciding in the moment you didn’t want to admit that you heard him correctly but processed the direction wrong, you offered as the traffic light finally turned green. 

“It’s alright we can just take the long way. Don’t worry about a u-turn.”  Not seeming to care at all that it will add an extra 10 minutes to the drive due to the mistake. 

As you continued driving you ended up making another wrong turn, Trevor put his left hand on your thigh and subconsiously rubbed small circles into skin to comfort your growing anxiety, he could feel this odd tension that was built up in the car. “Can you point please?” your voice barely over a whisper as you felt extremely embarrassed all of a sudden and started feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

“Yeah Y/N/N I can do that, we could also switch places. I can drive you the rest of the way if you need it if you're feeling anxious all of a sudden.” Trevor was being really sweet, trying to fix the problem at hand thinking it was just some anxious thoughts and not your brain processing audible information incorrectly. 

“No, pointing is good.” Forcing yourself to look straight ahead because you don’t want to accidentally catch his eyes as he looks at you with a worried look. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting way and drops the topic. The rest of the ride felt quick as he pointed and said the direction you needed to go until you reached his apartment. Finding a parking spot in the garage you parked your car, as soon as you felt your foot on the brake, and your right hand pulled the gear in park, you leaned back automatically and sighed grateful you were done driving. Trevor still had his hand on your thigh, he turned his neck so that his head was also resting on the headrest. 

Trevor patiently waited until you opened your eyes, turning to him with a soft smile. “You ready?” you ask him, as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. As you grab your purse from the back, your hand on the door handle. His hand that was on your thigh is gone and immediately pulls you by the wrist back into your seat. As he takes his other hand and gently places it on your cheek forcing you to look at him. 

“Can we talk about it?” His voice was steady, calm, confident but soft, almost as if he was scared of your reaction. 

Smiling a little wider now, in a split second you try to decide what you want to do. Do you want to tell a boy who you’ve only been casually talking to and hanging out with a handful of times - one of them being this current moment - about being dyslexic. Although it’s not that big of a deal in retrospect, it’s something that you can never take back once you said the words. Even though it’s something so simple and common no one ever looks at you the same again. Were you ready to tell Trevor, and see his face change permanently or did you want to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer. 

“I’m fine, it’s just when I drive somewhere new I like listening to the GPS and not a person telling me directions, it helps me focus better is all.” sheepishly you admit. 

Ignorant Bliss. That’s the choice you made. 

“Okay well next time, can you tell me that so I don’t have to watch you stress yourself out please?” His hand that was on your wrist, going down to your hand playing with your hand. Taking your hand that he was playing with, fully grasping his you squeeze his hand as a silent yes, and nod your head. He leans over the middle console and quickly peaks your lips as if it was a last minute impulse and he meant the cheek. “Thank you, let's go inside.” 

—-------------------------------

Living in ignorant bliss was great for a few weeks, until you started to actually like Trevor. Talking to a guy for a few months and it not going anywhere vs meeting someone and potentially seeing at least an exclusive relationship with them were two very different things. Knowing that you saw a relationship with him in the future meant it was only a matter of time before he found out that your dyslexic which again isn’t that big of a deal, but the fact that you also lied to him a few weeks ago. Not telling him is one thing, but lying when he asked why you were struggling to drive that day is a completely different act. 

Trying to put off the inevitable you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind. Somehow convincing yourself that if you didn’t think about it, then the problem would disappear he would never find out. I mean when you didn’t know how to spell a word while texting, you just spoke it into your phone. As far as grammar no one really had perfect grammar when texting including Trevor to be perfectly honest he probably didn’t even notice half the time. Plenty of people kept all their devices in dark mode for plenty of reasons, he had no reason to ask, although you did it because it helped your eyes stay focused on the words in front of you, not for the aesthetic. 

Even so, with all of these excuses as to why he wouldn’t notice you failed to remember that certain words you truly can’t pronounce the correct way no matter how hard you try. It all came crashing down tonight when you were at Trevor’s apartment cooking dinner for the both of you. Dinner was almost done at this point, when Trevor came behind you just now re-entering the kitchen after taking an expected call from his little sister. Trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on top of your shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” you ask your curiosity getting the best of you, even though you know it’s none of your business. 

“Yeah she’s fine.” Pressing a kiss into where your jawline and neck meet. “smells good.” He compliments your cooking as he teases you one more time with a small nip with his teeth where he just kissed you, before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. 

Answering shyly, you let out a “thank you.”

“Anything I can help with?” asking genuinely although you're not sure if it’s to be kind or if it’s because he’s hungry but either way you’ll take it. As he slowly unwraps himself from you, getting ready to help you in any way you need. 

Without looking up from the chicken that you're grilling on the stove, trying to concentrate on the task at hand you answer him. “Yeah actually can you grab out the mellk from the fridge for the mashed potatoes.” Not even thinking twice about what you just said until you heard a chuckle coming from across the kitchen. 

“What babe?” standing in front of a now open fridge, he could have sworn you tried to say milk but botched the word so badly, it couldn’t have possibly been.

“the mellk” finally noticing what you asked for, knowing this is one of the words people can’t help but point out how you butcher it. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, truly confused now that he heard it twice. 

“M - il - k “ you repeat slowing down your mouth trying to force yourself to pronounce it properly but also not speak too slowly. Hoping that it's noticeable as you force your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the “il” sound.  

A small chuckle leaves Trevor’s lips but it wasn’t a malicious way, it was as if he chuckled because he found it adorable. “Here's the milk baby.” walking back over to you and placing it on the empty counter space next to the bowl of steaming hot cooked potatoes. Taking the chicken off the hot burner you moved to the island to where the potatoes were. 

“Sorry” you mumble as he stands beside you, his hip resting on the side of the island. 

“For what?” His eyebrows frowned, his eyes focused the side of your face the only thing he could see. Focusing on the task at hand, you used the potato masher and mashed the potatoes. Opening the milk and adding a little along with some butter that you set out earlier. 

Feeling the rise of some anxiety in your stomach, hoping that you could procrastinate just a little longer on admitting that you didn’t tell him the whole truth. Deciding if now was the time or if you were gonna dig yourself in a bigger hole by wrapping yourself in a thicker web of tiny white lies. 

Finally turning your head to the side to face him and taking a deep breath. 

For good measure making one more deep breath before you barely utter the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “I lied.” 

Trevor’s face immediately changed from confusion and concern. In an instant it became shocking and almost hurt, that the girl he thought was actually going somewhere a month in, is admitting to lying to him. Not when he told her in the beginning that lying wasn’t something he tolerated after his ex lied to him for months and manipulated him. Not when he just told his little sister not even ten minutes ago on the phone that tonight he was gonna ask you to be his official girlfriend. “What are you talking about?” his voice cracking before he could even get the word out, quickly clearing his throat to cover up his own insecurities about the possible tension that could slowly be felt brewing in his kitchen. 

“Remember a few weeks, when I was driving you to your apartment from the stad-” 

“What the FUCK does that have to do with lying to me? When did you lie to me Y/N” Not only has Trevor never once raised his voice at you in a not joking way, but he’s never cursed at you, and his tone made you close your eyes and flinch at the impact. Immediately, seeing you flinch he sighed his hand going to lightly crease her arm closest to him. “When did you lie?” asking at a much softer tone than moments before. 

“I’m trying to explain.” Trevor could have sworn he felt his chest hurt when he heard you struggling to speak, as if you were trying to get yourself not to cry. “Please let me explain.” 

“Okay” he softly let out, as he squeezed your arm not sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself as he felt the possibility of you slipping through his fingers. 

“A few weeks ago when I drove you home.” finally turning her body fully turning to face him. “I lied, When you asked me what happened. I told you I need the GPS because I get overwhelmed.” Pausing to make sure that Trevor was following along, he nodded along, “I lied, sort of,” your voice picking up in speed with each word you uttered out  “I mean I do get overwhelmed while driving but it’s not because of that it’s not that I” 

“Baby please take a breath you're scaring me” His other arm is going to cup your cheek, even though he was mad before as he heard you fixated on driving him home a few weeks ago. He knew it couldn’t have possibly been any of the terrible ideas that popped into his head, at least Trevor hoped not.

 “I sometimes get my left and right confused.” Looking up trying to gauge his reaction, watching as one of his eyebrows go down, as if to say ‘that’s all.’ 

“Okay. So that was the lie? Everyone gets confused sometimes and makes mistakes baby it’s okay” His famous smile slowly takes over his face. 

“That’s the thing is it isn’t sometimes, it’s kind of a lot when I’m driving when someone is giving me directions without pointing, and there are other things too. I mean they're small but they still affect me almost daily and I just.” 

Deciding to take a breath because if you don’t you will be more likely to trip up your words or stutter. “I’m dyslexic and it’s not really how they describe the movies.” 

His smile dropped a little and you swear it felt as if your heart felt as if it had just dropped a hundred flights down the Empire State building. “Dyslexic. Like you mix up letters when reading?”

“Yeah but it’s more than that.”

“Okay. But why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you say it’s because you get overwhelmed.” 

“Because I do get overwhelmed when I make dumb mistakes like that. Plus, everytime I tell someone they never look at me the same. A lot of times they are shocked, and they also sometimes judge me because how does it not affect me the way the media portrays it? Why do I mispronounce words, why can’t I tell my left and right when someone gives me a direction, why I can’t read maps to save my fucking life but yet if I don’t have my GPS running I’m bound to a wrong turn, why does sometimes my mind decide I either can’t come up with a word at all or I can physically see it but I can’t say it and I can’t spell it because I’m such a bad speller.” 

“Shhh” not trying to cut you off but also trying to get you to breathe. “So you didn’t tell me cause you were scared I would look at you differently? Or judge you when something you can’t control comes out at random times of the day? That’s why you told me to point instead of just saying it because you didn’t wanna tell me in fear?” Not sure his tone is showing remorse for you thinking that at all or hurting that you ever would think of him in that way. 

“Yeah.” you embarrassingly admit.

Trevor spent the rest of the night listening to you and how your brain was different due to your own personal experience with being a dyslexic. The next morning you found him reading an article about the effects of different lighting and how dark mode was the best for dyslexics and certain fonts were better than others. It made you chuckle as you told him you knew and that’s why your phone was permanently in dark mode.  That day, he changed all the settings on his tv’s in his entire apartment for dark mode, even all of his own personal devices. Finding it adorable that he went on a tangent when he found out certain apps don’t support dark mode and how he said it was discriminating. Finding it harder and harder for yourself to hide your soft smile as you watched him continue his rant, your heart swelling at how passionate he sounded. 

“I really like you, you know.” you admitted when he finally stopped complaining about how Mirosoft finally started supporting dark mode it was still ‘white paper’ on black ink so they really missed the whole point. 

“Oh yeah.” as he grabs you, pulling you towards him on the couch, tangling your legs with his. 

“Yup” popping the p for emphasis.

“I really like you too. Actually I was gonna ask you.. Wanna make this official and let me call you mine.” The blush was obvious on your face, immediately turning a light red shade, nodding your head he pulled you into a soft kiss. 

—---------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were out to dinner with a few close friends and Trevor. Currently trying to tell a story about one of your new coworkers and how you didn’t like him but mid sentence you froze. Trevor had yet to see you freeze because the word you planned to say completely escaped you. Of course this wasn’t new to your friends as they saw the familiar signs, the way in which you paused, your lips pursed in a questioning way, your hand coming up and shaking knowing it was on the tip of your tongue and you just couldn’t think of it or couldn’t pronounce it. 

What your friends weren’t used to was seeing Trevor respond to it. His response to you struggling made all of them share a glance in approval of his small action. He took your shaking hand and slipped it into his own. Immediately your small flustered expression on your face turns to him. Your friends couldn’t hear what you were saying between yourselves if you were even talking at all, but they could see the care in Trevors eyes and how your frustration seemed to melt away.

“Hi” he whispers only for you to hear after a couple seconds pass. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Hi” 

“What are you trying to say?” repeating the same sentence that he asked you weeks ago when you asked him to get the milk out the fridge. 

“I can’t think of it.” a sigh leaving your lips. 

“Describe it.” His forehead resting on yours as you look into his eyes. 

“You know, like a red flag.” 

“Like in dating? So a slang term?” 

“I think.” Pausing for a few seconds for your brian to catch up. “But I know it’s not called a red flag, but it’s like it, I think, like when someone does something and immediately you're like ew.” 

“An ick?” he softly suggests. Immediately your mouth forms into an o-shape in shock, making his mouth twitch into the slightest smile. Kissing his check quickly and whispering a quick ‘thanks’ and turning back to your friends. 

“Okay so like this new dude thinks he can come in and just boss all me and my other co-workers around. That’s not even the worst part like not only is he lowkey sexist, he literally only wears highwaters, immediate ick…” Trevor sat there half listening to your story with a huge smile on his face, hand on your thigh drawing patterns subconsciously as he sipped on his drink. He loves listening to you talk, how you get lost in telling stories and he’s happy he was able to help you instead of you pushing it to the side like you did all those months ago. 

That’s how it is from that night on, anytime you text him and he can’t understand it, or you can’t think of a word, or butcher the pronunciation; he will simply turn to you and ask “What are you trying to say?” 

[luca-fantilli]

Slim Pickins - Jack Hughes

Summary: Ana's got slim pickings

content: kissing, allusions to sex, fluff, minor angst, bittersweet ending

wc: 1.8k

inspired by sabrina carpenter's song slim pickins from her new album short n' sweet!

notes: i love sabrina carpenter!! and her new album EATS! i thought of writing a jack fic as soon as i heard the full song!! enjoy!!!

Guess I'll end this life alone I am not dramatic These are just the thoughts that pass right through me

Ana had given up on finding the "perfect guy." Every guy she dated just let her feelings unsatisfied and disappointed. Her friends were beyond excited to introduce her to Jack. They'd dragged her along to the bar, meeting their boyfriends there, and shoving her in the direction of Jack.

A smirk took up his face as soon as his eyes met hers. The blonde just narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to say something. Introduce himself and show her this "Hughes" charm she'd heard so much about from the girls.

"Hey, I'm Jack," he said, extending his hand with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

Ana took it, her grip firm, but she didn't bother with a smile. "Ana," she replied coolly, already bored.

Jack's smirk deepened, and she could see he was expecting her to be more impressed, maybe even flustered. But Ana was neither.

"Nice to meet you, Ana," he continued, leaning in slightly. "Your friends have been telling me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure they have," Ana said, her tone flat. She glanced around, noticing how her friends were watching eagerly, clearly hoping for sparks. The only sparks Ana felt were the ones of irritation.

Jack raised an eyebrow at her lackluster response, clearly not used to being met with such indifference. "So... what do you do for fun?"

"Read," she replied simply, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm into fiction, but I like a good biography every now and then. You?"

"Uh, I play hockey. For the Devils."

"I know," she said, not bothering to add that she couldn't care less about hockey.

The conversation dragged on, Jack trying to charm her with his stories from the rink. Ana just nodded along, letting her mind wander. She had already resigned herself to the idea that the "perfect" guy didn't exist--not for her, anyway. And Jack, with his cocky grin and predictable lines, wasn't about to change that.

But as the night wore on and she saw the hopeful glances from her friends, Ana sighed inwardly. Maybe it was time to stop holding out for someone who ticked all her boxes. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to settle for someone who could at least hold a conversation--even if it wasn't what she wanted.

With that thought, she decided to give Jack a little more attention to see where things would go.

A boy who's jacked and kind Can't find his ass to save my life

Ana watched as Jack laughed at something one of the other girls' boyfriends had said, the sound rich and easy. He looked the part--tall, athletic, with that effortless charm that had most girls falling head over heels. Her friends had raved about how he was the total package: a boy who was both jacked and kind.

But as Ana sipped on her drink and observed him more closely, she noticed the flaws in her friends' description. Like the way his eyes glazed over whenever the conversation veered away from him and/or hockey, or how he seemed more interested in impressing his friends than actually getting to know her.

Sure, Jack was kind in a superficial way--polite enough, quick with a smile, and generous with compliments (when it benefitted him). It wasn't that she needed him to be perfect-- God knows she'd given up on that fantasy long ago--but she couldn't help the pang of disappointment that she felt. Jack was exactly what everyone had said: good-looking, successful, and charming. But beneath that, he didn't really have much that Ana looked for.

"So, do you follow much hockey?" Jack asked, walking back over from where he had been with his friends.

"Not really," she admitted, her tone more honest than before. "It's never really been my thing."

Jack nodded, looking a little thrown. "Oh. Well, what are you into then?"

Ana considered lying, giving him an answer she knew he'd like, but decided against it. "Honestly? I'm more into arts and stuff like that--books, museums, writing."

Jack's smile wavered, and Ana could tell he was struggling to find a way to connect with her. It wasn't really his fault, she knew she wasn't making it easy. But as she looked at him, trying so hard to find common ground, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her earlier thoughts.

It was time to lower her expectations.

As everyone was saying their goodbyes, Jack gave her a lingering look, clearly hoping for a sign that she was interested. Ana smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks for tonight, Jack. It was... nice."

"Yeah, maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"Maybe."

Oh, it's slim pickings If I can't have the one I love I guess it's you that I'll be kissin' Just to get my fixings Since the good ones are deceased or taken I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'

As the weeks went by, Ana found herself spending more time with Jack. Not because she was falling for him, but because it was easier than being alone. The more they hung out, the more she realized that Jack was exactly who she thought he was--nice, handsome, but not who she'd been hoping for her whole life.

One night, after a dinner with their mutual friends, they found themselves alone, walking through the streets of Newark. Jack reached for her hand, and Ana let him take it, though the warmth she'd hoped to feel never came. Instead, she felt a dull ache of acceptance. This wasn't what she wanted, but it was better than nothing, right?

Jack stopped walking, turning to face her. There was something in his eyes. "Ana," he began, his voice softer than usual, "I really like you. I want this to work."

He was trying--really trying--and it wasn't fair to him that she couldn't muster the same enthusiasm. But life had a way of wearing down those high hopes she once held onto.

She forced a smile, leaning to press a quick kiss to his lips. "I like you too, Jack," she said, though the words felt hollow.

The continued walking, hand in hand, and Ana thought about what her perfect guy looked like. Maybe George Harrison or a young Bob Dylan. A guy with soul, who wrote her songs and poems. Wasn't afraid to talk about feelings, but was still just as attractive as Jack. But Jack was here, and he was nice, but he wasn't a young Jimmy Page.

That night, as she lay in bed next to Jack, who had fallen asleep almost immediately, Ana stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. She knew she should be grateful--Jack was sweet, he cared about her--but the spark wasn't as strong as she dreamed.

Jesus, what's a girl to do? This boy doesn't even know The difference between "there," "their" and "they are"

Ana tried to focus on whatever her friends were yapping about, but Jack's text messages kept lighting up her phone. The boy didn't even know the difference between "there," "their," and "they are."

She reread his text over and over again. "I'll meet you over at they're place. Their should be plenty of parking outside if you don't wanna walk." Ana had almost chucked her phone across the room at the sight of it.

"You okay, Ana Banana?" one of the girls asked.

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking about shit."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Ana hesitated. What was she supposed to say? That she was annoyed because her boyfriend couldn't differentiate between basic homophones? That she was frustrated because she wanted more than he could offer? It wasn't fair--he wasn't really doing anything wrong.

"Nah, it's stupid. Just work stuff," she shrugged. "Continue your story."

Yet he's naked in my room Missin' all the things he's missin'

Jack sighed, pulling her body into his. She cringed at the feeling of his sweaty chest against her back. The room was quiet, just the sound of their breathing returning to normal. She turned to look at him, brushing some of the hair stuck to his forehead back. He looked at her with so much care in his eyes, massaging the skin of her thigh.

He was completely unaware of everything she thought was missing in him. So oblivious to the things that mattered to her. He didn't understand her passion for literature, her love for art, or the way she craved deep, meaningful conversations with her boyfriend.

But none of that mattered to Jack, he was just happy to have Ana by his side. And it made her feel so guilty. But if she didn't have Jack... what would she have? She'd be back to being lonely and bored with her life. At least Jack brought some excitement with him.

Since the good ones call their exes wasted And since the Lord forgot my gay awakenin' Then I'll just be here in the kitchen Servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'

The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows on the walls. Ana was putting away the last of the dishes from dinner, her mind preoccupied with everything she'd been thinking about over the entirety of their relationship. The rhythmic clicking of plates was a soothing backdrop to her contemplation.

Jack had been quieter than usual, his nerves evident as he fidgeted with his phone as she dried their wine glasses. Ana glanced over, noticing his unease but attributing it to work stress or something else she didn't understand.

After she finished cleaning, Jack took a deep breath and approached her, his face the most serious she'd ever seen. Ana's heart skipped a beat as she saw him pull out a small velvet box from his pocket.

"Ana," he began, "I know things haven't always been perfect, but I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Ana's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the ring. She had been contemplating the idea of settling for the last year, and now, faced with Jack's heartfelt proposal, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Since the good ones all call their exes wasted," she thought, reflecting on all her past disappointments and the unattainable ideal she once chased.

Then I'll be here in the kitchen, servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'. The idea echoed in her mind as she stood there, knowing that despite her doubts, Jack was offering her a commitment that she might not find elsewhere.

"Yes, Jack," Ana smiled. "I will marry you."

Jack's face lit up with joy as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Ana had come to terms with the idea that while Jack might not be the "perfect" partner she once dreamed of, he was a solid choice in a world of slim pickings. She had chosen to move forward with him, not because he was perfect, but because he was the best she could find.

Jack just might have to put up with some moanin' and bitchin'.

[luca-fantilli]

Honeymoon Phase - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: A month later, Matt and Freya return to the Hughes' Lake House; and their families finally get to see how in love they really are.

Content: FLUFF like toothrottingly, adorable fluff. mentions of sex but no actual smut, teasing, mentions of past angst

wc: 1.5k

notes: this is part 2 to under the radar! influenced by one of my favourite moots ever @toasttt11 !! go show toasty some love!! this was so fun to write! enjoy :)

"Are Matt and Freya up?" Ellen asked, flipping a pancake.

"Matt sleeps in," Brady commented, snatching a blueberry from the bowl on the table.

"Freya's never been an early bird either," Jim laughed.

"I'm not waking them up. I don't want to accidentally get a glimpse of Matt's dick," Jack smirked, making Luke snicker.

"Jack!" Ellen gasped.

"Just telling it how it is, Mom."

"Doesn't mean we have to say it aloud, Jack," she scolded, placing a large plate of pancakes on the table.

"I'm sure they'll be down soon," Chantal joined the conversation, "If not... they can fend for themselves."

Matt groaned, rolling onto his back and pulling Freya's body on top of his. His wife was a deep sleeper, so him adjusting cuddling positions didn't wake her. He had one arm holding her by her waist, the other under his head.

"Frey?" he mumbled.

"Mmm."

"You ready to get up?"

"Mmm."

"K," he replied, slowly opening his eyes. He smiled at the sight in front of him. Freya half-dressed, her face buried in his shoulder. Her chest pressed against his, one hand gripping his bicep, the other flung out to the side. He reached out, tapping his phone to check the time.

10:15

God, he was gonna get shit from Brady when they got down there, especially if anyone had heard them during the... late night the couple had shared the night before. Matt decided to give Freya fifteen more minutes, before he was pulling her up with him. She held onto him like a koala, her face in the crook of his neck.

"Freya. Baby, we're gonna miss breakfast."

"Tired."

"I know, love. We can go to bed early."

"I want to sleep," she slurred.

He placed her on the floor, the cold hardwood making her jump.

"I'm up! I'm up! Jesus, Matt! Trying to give me hypothermia!"

"The floor isn't going to give you hypothermia, babe. Get dressed; breakfast time!" he clapped.

She sighed, digging through her drawers to find an outfit. Matt went to the corner, doing the same in his suitcase.

"Not sure how I'm supposed to stay family friendly when you're walking around like that all week," he smirked, gripping her hips and pulling her into him.

"Perv," she giggled, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

"Can't help it when my wife looks like a supermodel."

"You flatter me, Matty."

"Maybe I could enjoy some breakfast in bed before we head down."

"What do you mean? Breakfast is- oh! Matt!"

"Glad you caught on, babe."

"I'm going to eat," she rolled her eyes, leaving him to pout in their room.

"Look who decided to join us!" Jim teased, watching his youngest enter the dining room.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Dad," she smiled, pressing a kiss to her dad's cheek.

Matt followed behind her, looking like a lost puppy. He stood behind the barstool she'd sat on, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their families watched as he whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

"Ew," Luke mumbled, grabbing even more pancakes.

"Any plans for the day?" Chantal asked, pulling the attention off the couple.

"I'm gonna take Matt out on the boat," Freya grinned excitedly, placing a hand on his.

"Like Hell you are," Quinn scoffed.

"What? I have my boating license."

"And? I don't need the boat being christened."

"Quinn!" Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Wasn't the plan, Quintin. But now that you mention it..." she narrowed her eyes at him, smirking.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jack gasped.

"Of course not. You fucking idiots," she sighed, shushing Matt who was laughing into her shoulder.

"Well, you two have fun."

"Thanks, Mom. We'll see you guys for lunch!"

The two families were gathered in the backyard, playing a very intense game of volleyball. Freya had decided to sit out to make the teams even. She was lounging in a deck chair, cheering on her family... but also her husband on the opposite team.

"Good job, babe!" she cheered.

"Who's side are you on here, Frey?" Luke laughed.

"Yours. But my husband is on the other team, so..."

"I'll never get used to that word," Quinn shook his head.

"What? Husband?"

"Yeah. He was never even your boyfriend to us."

"But we can all see how happy they are, Quinn," Ellen scolded, getting ready to serve the ball. Matt turned, shooting a wink at Freya.

"I'm cheering exclusively for Matt now," Freya stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

"You better not be doing that when we play the Panthers," Jack complained.

"She's been doing that," Matt teased.

"You trying to get your ass whooped, Tkachuk?"

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'll do it for you," Freya offered to her brothers, "He wasn't supposed to tell you guys that."

Matt marched over to her, flinging her over his shoulder. She laughed, pounding her fists on his back.

"Who's whooping who's ass?"

"I'm winning," she giggled.

"Are you now?" he smiled, shifting her so he was holding her by her waist. She scrunched up her nose as he pressed a kiss to it, placing her down on the ground. She threw a fake punch at his face, Matt pretending to stumble backwards.

"KO!" Luke shouted.

"And the winner is... HUGHES!"

"Why do we always have to watch his shitty movie?" Freya complained, picking at the loose threads on the blanket covering the couple.

"Because it's not shitty, it's a masterpiece," Jack retorted.

"It was 8% on Rotten Tomatoes."

"And?"

"That means it's shit."

"Babe, just watch the movie," Matt groaned, placing his hand on her upper thigh.

"Whatever."

"That's what I thought," Jack sassed, pressing play on the movie.

"You're right, Frey. This is terrible," Matt whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"That's what I was trying to warn you of, but nooooo, you just can't listen to your wife."

"I-"

"Will you two shut up! I'm trying to watch the movie," Luke snapped.

"Sorry."

Freya leaned into Matt's touch. She was loving being able to be close in front of their families. He trailed his hand a little higher up her thigh, earning some side eye. He ignored the warning, resting his hand right on the edge of her pajama shorts. She shook her head slightly, lacing their fingers together under the blanket.

"I love you," he mouthed.

She just leaned up and kissed the side of his mouth in response. He smiled, leaning in for a proper kiss that she gladly gave him. He kissed the tip of her nose, turning back to the movie. Little did they know that Quinn was watching the whole interaction and he could barely fathom how in love his little sister really was.

"Can you stop?"

"Why?" Matt smirked, running his hand up the front of her shirt.

"Your hands are cold."

"And?"

"And... it's annoying. You're annoying."

"You don't mean that. You loveeee me."

"Meh," she shrugged.

Freya was sitting on the kitchen counter, Matt standing between her legs. It was late and everyone else had gone to bed.

"You don't mean that."

"Meh."

"I can leave," he jokingly offered.

"Nooooo," she pouted, pulling him back by his shirt.

"That's what I thought," he put his hands on her waist under her shirt, squeezing. She wriggled, gasping from the cold contact on her skin.

"Do you think my brothers still hate you?"

"Nah."

"How do you know?"

"Quinn asked me earlier if I wanted to help him grill. And then later Jack came in our room and threw a box of condoms at me. So, I think we're in the clear."

"Jack is such a menace."

"Said he wasn't ready to be an uncle."

"Hmm," Freya tapped her finger against her lips.

"Shut up," Matt laughed, kissing her neck. "No babies yet. We agreed."

"I know! I'm joking!! I have to finish school first. Then we can discuss."

"Whatever you want."

"I love you, Matthew."

"And I love you, Freya. You ready for bed?"

"Yep! Let's go!"

Matt started to walk off, quickly noticing that Freya had made no move to get up, "What are you doing?"

"Carry me?"

He rolled his eyes, "Let's go."

"Yay!" she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.

"My own personal koala."

"Duh."

"So..." Luke started, "We can all agree that Matt and Freya are perfect together?"

The two families looked around, all nodding. Freya and Matt were sleeping in... again. And the rest of their family members took it as their time to have a meeting.

"They're so cute," Chantal cooed, "Matt loves her to bits."

"I agree," Ellen smiled, "I've never seen Freya this happy."

"I'm still pissed I wasn't invited to the wedding," Brady smirked.

"Shut up. None of us were."

"I can't wait to have grandkids!" Chantal added excitedly.

"Ew," Jack muttered.

"Grandkids? Who's pregnant?" Freya asked sleepily, wiping the crusty bits from her eyes.

"You!"

"Me? I'm very much not pregnant," she laughed.

"Soon enough," Matthew teased, holding onto her hand.

"WHAT?!"

[luca-fantilli]

too in love to think straight / m tkachuk

an unofficial sequel to wasted like all my potential.

all's well that ends well to end up with you

/ or, the one where matthew wins the stanley cup.

word count: 6.3K pairing: matthew tkachuk x OFC

i edited this while extremely jet-lagged post-vacation, so please give me some grace, but i couldn't resist.

thank you @steve-is-daddy for planting this idea in my head. enjoy some more super sweet matty and clay.

game one

In all the years Clayton Kozak had known Matthew Tkachuk, she could count on one hand the number of times she had ever seen him genuinely nervous. He was usually unshakeable and had blind confidence, which made Matthew Matthew.

But she knew something was up when he left his gameday pasta half-finished on the kitchen counter and restlessly tossed and turned through what was supposed to be a pre-game nap. She had given him his space that day, not wanting to nag him about how he was feeling or inadvertently contribute to the mental warfare she could see was going on behind his blue eyes.

After this long together and being each other's person for the last decade, she knew him well enough to sense when he needed space and consoling. When Matthew was ready to talk, he'd let her know.

So, when he lingered at the foot of their bed, fixing his tie in the mirror for the hundredth time, Clayton knew he was itching to talk. She also knew he wouldn't be the first to speak up.

She was resting with her back against the headboard, eyes skimming the pages of her book while she listened to the sounds of Matthew's pre-game routine. He puttered around their bedroom and ensuite bathroom, preparing to leave for game one of the Stanley Cup finals. They had the team heading to the rink early that day because of all the additional press and media commitments this series would require, so Clayton didn't need to be ready to leave and meet his parents and siblings at the arena for another few hours.

It had only been a couple of months since they had finally put a label on this relationship, but they had been moving full steam ahead since then.

Clayton's lease on her apartment had ended in March, and Matthew had immediately suggested she move in with him when her landlord wanted to raise her rent. She had been spending all her time here since Matthew had moved to Florida, so there was no point in signing a new lease and paying for a place she never slept in.

Hearing Matthew let out a frustrated sigh, Clayton reached for her bookmark to save her spot. The old faded Polaroid photo of Matthew and her on the boat last summer, which used to be taped to her bathroom mirror, now rested between the pages as she gently shut her book. She placed it on the bed beside her, turning her attention to Matthew.

"You look handsome," she hummed, eyeing him suspiciously. "Too handsome. Who are you trying to impress right now?"

He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the mirror that hung above their dresser. He loosened the tie before retightening it again.

"You never wear ties," she commented as he continued to fiddle with the silk fabric.

"I'm trying something new," he answered gruffly.

As much as she wanted to respond with a matching snarky comment, Clayton bit her tongue. Matthew was every bit the stereotypical hockey player. He had a strict routine. He would never just try something new one gameday—especially not on day one of the Stanley Cup finals. But she wasn't going to be the one to point that out and rock the boat.

"Come here," she beckoned him forward as she rose to her knees, crawling to meet him at the foot of the bed.

"Baby," he laughed softly, "as much as I love when you get on your knees for me, I've got a schedule to stick to. I can't be late today."

Clayton narrowed her eyes to glare at him, but the fact that he was making jokes was a good sign. It meant he wasn't completely spiraling into oblivion. Her usual Matthew was still in there somewhere.

Ignoring his comment, she reached for the tie hanging loosely around his neck to pull him forward.

"Let me fix your tie, idiot," she laughed. As she fed the end of the tie through the knot, she could see Matthew chewing on his bottom lip so hard she was surprised he hadn't drawn blood yet. "Do you want to tell me what's actually on that pretty little mind of yours?"

She waited for a moment, unsure if he would answer honestly or attempt to make another joke. He remained quiet as she finished adjusting his tie and re-folded the collar of his dress shirt.

"What if we choke?" he finally spoke up, voice so quiet that she barely registered he was speaking. "I mean, losing in the finals two years in a row? That's—"

"You're not going to," she answered, abruptly cutting him off.

"You sound confident," he said, but his voice was weary.

"I am," she smiled, sitting back on her heels. "I'm a good luck charm."

"You weren't very good luck last year in the final round," he grumbled.

Clayton rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because you were stringing me along," she explained, swatting at Matthew's arm for emphasis. "Now that I'm your girlfriend, I can officially be good luck."

"That's all it takes?" he asked. Clayton's chest fluttered with butterflies as his usual cheeky smile returned.

"Yep," she answered. "Commitment is good for your karma."

"Commitment, huh?" he repeated, his smile growing wider. "I should probably marry you, just to be safe, then."

Even Matthew wasn't sure if it was a joke as he said it. But it was too big of a day; the stakes were already too high to acknowledge the veil of truth behind his joke. Maybe they'd revisit the idea another time when emotions weren't quite as high.

"Are you all set for tonight?" he asked, breezing past what he had just said.

Matthew's quick change in subject confirmed that it was just a joke and that Clayton shouldn't put too much weight into it even if the punchline had taken all the air out of her lungs, if only for a second.

"Yeah," she quickly answered. "I'm going to pick up Rose in a bit so she can come tonight, and then we'll meet your parents and everyone at the arena."

"Okay," he nodded. He lingered for a moment, not quite ready to leave just yet. Clayton frowned as she noticed his hesitation. He wasn't like this in the playoffs last year. This was a whole new Matthew to her.

"Matty," she cooed, tugging lightly on the end of his tie to bring his focus back.

"Yeah, baby?"

She straightened up, leaning forward to place a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I love you either way," she whispered, "but you're going to do great."

"I know," he smiled before ducking his head down to meet Clayton for a proper kiss. "I've got my good luck charm right here."

game four

It was a weird rush for Clayton, typing out her usual good luck text while being in public. Maybe spending all of these years with Matthew had rubbed off on her, and she was becoming a bit of an adrenaline junky like him.

Clayton listened to Matthew's dad chat animatedly about the Florida Panthers' powerplay with a fan sitting in front of them, doing her best to keep her face neutral. She tilted the phone away from his younger sister, Taryn, sitting in the seat next to her, just in case.

Clayton had joined the entire Tkachuk family for a pre-game dinner in Edmonton that included more than enough celebratory drinks courtesy of Matthew's younger brother, Brady. By the time the family made their way from dinner to the arena for the night's game, Clayton already had a nice buzz going on.

Warm-up would be starting any moment now, but the arena was already filled with fans. Clayton hadn't seen Matthew today, giving him space as he tried to stick to his usual pre-game routines while on the road.

The missing piece of that routine was a good luck text Clayton would always send. It was usually a silly message about how she hoped he'd manhandle her like that mouthguard after the game—anything to catch him off guard and make him laugh momentarily. If not, Matthew tended to get too inside his head before a game, and it had only been worse so far this round.

It was game four of the Stanley Cup Final, and Florida had a commanding 3-0 lead in the series. Matthew had been jittery all week, refusing to even talk about the games because he was so focused on winning. Clayton needed to pull out all the stops here. Her usual dirty joke or painfully corny pun wasn't going to cut it today.

She bit her lip to try and smother her smirk as she hit send on the message. Knowing Matthew would check his phone after warm-up, expecting the usual text, she felt giddy over today's message.

The message itself was short and sweet.

"Good luck, Tkachuk."

It was what accompanied it that Clayton felt oddly smug about. She had taken the dirty photos before game one when she had a few hours alone after Matthew had left for the rink. She thought they were too good to send before just any game, so she had saved them for the perfect occasion.

Today felt like that occasion.

Matthew could be a Stanley Cup Champion the next time she saw him.

"Clay!" Brady's voice interrupted her thoughts. She quickly locked her phone, dropping it into her lap. She looked up at Matthew's brother, who had dropped into the seat on the other side of her. His hands were full with cans of cold beer, extending one out to Clayton. "I brought gifts," he smiled.

Clayton laughed as she took the can, cracking it open before clinking it against Brady's drink. His pregnant wife couldn't make the trip to Edmonton, so he was making the most of the unsupervised time.

"Cheers, B," she sang before taking a sip.

Brady was practically vibrating in his seat, his excitement for the game evident. "I can't believe we're about to watch Matthew win—"

"Stop!" Clayton shrieked. She slapped his arm to shut him up, splashing some of his beer onto the leg of his jeans, but he seemed unphased. "You're going to jinx it," she warned.

Brady shrugged, waving off Clayton's warning with an eye roll.

But Brady did jinx it.

Like, majorly jinxed it.

What was supposed to be a championship-winning game ended up being an 8-1 blowout for the Oilers.

Clayton felt nauseous as she followed Matthew's parents down to the family suite, unsure if he would even want to see them. She felt queasy at the thought—a result of the combination of the nerves and all of the alcohol Brady had shared with her.

Matthew looked defeated as he emerged from the locker room. He gave his parents a quick hug before making his way to Clayton.

"Hi, Matty," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her in for a hug. She felt him let out a deep sigh, his shoulders relaxing in her embrace. "You'll get 'em next time, baby."

He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before slowly unwinding himself and taking a step back. Clayton remained tucked under his arm as he chatted with his family, recapping the less-than-stellar highlights from the night's game.

As they made the last call for the team bus to the hotel, Matthew said goodbye to his parents and siblings. They let Clayton know they'd meet her outside the lounge so the couple could have a moment alone.

The second his parents were out of sight, Matthew reached down to pinch Clayton's ass. She yelped, slapping his arm away.

"Matthew!" she scolded, trying to sound serious despite the surprised laugh that slipped out. She wasn't expecting that, especially given how low energy he seemed to be feeling.

"What?" he asked, cracking a smile. Clayton shot him a pointed look as if reminding him they were still very much in public, even if his parents were gone. "Oh, come on. You can't send me those photos and expect me not to be all over you."

Clayton felt her face grow hot at the mention of her pre-game good luck text. Watching her blush, Matthew pulled her in for another hug, winding his arms around her waist as she tucked her head into his neck.

"They were supposed to be celebratory," she pouted.

She felt his chest rumble with laughter, ducking his head down to smother his chuckle in her hair. He pressed his mouth to the shell of Clayton's ear, sending a whole new wave of butterflies straight to her stomach.

"Oh, I celebrated when I saw them," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe.

"Easy, tiger," she warned, touching his chest to push him back slightly.

Clayton was no stranger to PDA, but this didn't feel like the right place, given how somber the family suite was after the night's loss. Not that anyone even batted an eye at Clayton and Matthew. They were always all over each other—this affection was nothing new for their friends and teammates to see.

They had always been like this, even when they were stuck in that weird, not-quite-a-relationship limbo. If anything, they were even worse now. The sex had always been good, but since they had made this relationship official and put a label on it, it just felt different.

Even when Matthew was on the road, they consistently found time for steamy FaceTimes after late games. Clayton relished in the words every time Matthew called her as his girlfriend.

The first time he had introduced her as his girlfriend to a teammate's wife that Clayton had yet to meet at their official couple debut; she knew she was a goner. At the backyard New Year's Eve party, she had such a visceral reaction to the words rolling off his tongue that they missed the New Year's countdown entirely. Instead, Clayton rang in the new year on her knees in Matthew's captain's bathroom.

The adrenaline rush of the potential of being caught, Matthew's praising words about being his girl—Clayton felt flush just thinking of it.

"I'll be staring at them the whole flight home," he smirked. He stole a quick kiss, that crooked smile never faltering. "It's a long flight, so you should probably send me a couple more just to be safe."

Clayton rolled her eyes. "I'll see you back home tomorrow for the real thing."

Tonight had been a minor blip. As incredible as it would have been to sweep Edmonton, now they had the opportunity to win the Cup back at home in front of their fans for game 5. The thought of seeing Matthew celebrating with the diehard Panthers fans cheering him on made her heart swell with so much pride that she thought it might burst.

She knew he had been working toward this his entire life. Clayton had been there every step of the way. She always would be.

Matthew's hands crept lower from where they were resting around her waist, sneaking another grab of her ass. Clayton gasped in surprise, swatting at his chest. He dipped his head down, smothering his laugh in Clayton's neck once again.

He kissed the base of her neck, smiling into the skin. "God, the victory sex is going to be so good, isn't it?" he whispered into her neck.

Clayton rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny it.

game five

The only light in Clayton and Matthew's bedroom came from the TV, playing a loop of highlights from the Panthers' game five loss earlier that night. The volume on the TV was muted, Matthew having switched it off half an hour ago when he finally couldn't stand to listen to the commentary anymore.

Clayton wanted to tell him to turn it off or to put literally anything else on instead, but she knew that would never happen. All she could do was helplessly watch him spiral.

As she scrolled on her phone, trying to find something to occupy her mind in the silence, she could hear Matthew grinding his teeth. He was lying in bed beside her, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Is it too late to get married?" Matthew asked, breaking the silence for the first time since he had arrived home from the rink that night. "This new girlfriend luck isn't working anymore."

Clayton took a deep breath, locked her phone, and placed it on the bedside table. She tried to choose her words carefully, not wanting to start a fight when she knew Matthew's emotions were already heightened.

"I'm not marrying you because you're on some superstitious losing streak," she explained, settling back into her pillow. "It's been two games."

"Clay, baby," he whined, rolling over to face her. "Come on."

"How romantic," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Matthew rolled his eyes at her response, only fueling Clayton's frustration. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, huh?"

Matthew propped himself up on his elbow as he sighed. Clayton felt uneasy under his intense stare. She never would have thought she'd be this upset about Matthew wanting to marry her, but she had dreamed of what that day would look like her entire life. She wasn't going to let him turn her dream into a joke.

"Clayton," he started, his tone serious, "I'm going to marry you. We both already know this. We've known this, probably since the moment we met."

She swallowed the lump growing in her throat at his words.

"So," he continued, "what's the difference between if it happens this week or ten years from now?"

"Are you really going to make me wait another ten years?"

"No," he answered immediately, "I'm literally asking you right now."

Clayton froze, searching his face for a hint of sarcasm. But he looked serious. She wasn't quite sure what to make of this.

Sure, the idea had been nagging in Clayton's mind since he had mentioned it the other day, but she didn't think it was a real possibility. She hadn't spent much time thinking about it, trying to smother the idea and avoid getting her hopes up.

It felt like they had been together forever, but it had only been six months since they had made everything official. They couldn't just get married that soon, especially for the sake of some playoff superstition. Clayton wanted Matthew to want to marry her because he wanted her—not because he thought it would save his team's playoff hopes.

Because what if she agreed to marry him and they still didn't win? Would he regret rushing into something so serious? Or worse, would he resent her for the loss?

"You're serious?" Clayton whispered, watching Matthew skeptically as he nodded.

"I've been serious about this," he answered. Clayton chewed anxiously on her thumbnail as she thought everything over. Matthew gently grabbed her wrist to tug her hand away from her face. "Did you think I was joking?" he asked as he tucked her hair behind her ears.

"A little bit, yeah," she admitted. Something shifted for her at that moment, watching the corner of Matthew's mouth curve up into a mischievous smile. As quickly as the idea seemed possible, she shook her head to rid her mind of it. "Our parents would kill us."

Matthew shrugged, unphased by her protest. "We don't have to tell them."

Clayton shot him a look. Given their close families, they both knew that wasn't a realistic possibility. Their moms had been not-so-secretly planning their wedding since the day Matthew had held Clayton's hand, walking her to kindergarten.

"We can still do the big wedding, the party, and the elaborate bachelorette trip I'm sure you've already planned with Taryn and Rose."

Clayton couldn't stop herself from smiling, imagining her best friend's reaction to the idea that Clayton and Matthew would finally get married. There was no world in which Rose would let that happen without the most over-the-top bachelorette party.

"But for now," Matthew continued, pausing briefly to kiss Clayton's hand softly, "this would just be us. Just you and me, baby."

"Just us," she quietly repeated, testing how the idea felt on the tip of her tongue.

"You're thinking about it," he grinned.

"Maybe," she answered coyly, trying to hide her smile. Eventually, she shook her head, letting the rational part of her brain temporarily win. "No, this is crazy."

Matthew shrugged, seemingly unphased by her response. "You make me want to do crazy things," he replied.

"Let me sleep on it," she sighed, rolling onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, letting out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in. "It's been a long day," she explained, avoiding Matthew's eyes. "We'll talk tomorrow with clear heads."

Matthew quietly agreed, letting Clayton lay with her own thoughts. When he eventually switched the TV off and rolled over to go to sleep, she couldn't switch her brain off.

As if sensing Clayton's racing mind, Matthew spoke up again in the dark. "Hey, Clay?"

"Yeah, Matty?"

"For the record, baby, my head's clear."

Clayton couldn't stop the ear-to-ear grin at Matthew's words. She pulled the duvet up to her chin to hide her smile, even though Matthew couldn't see her in the dark.

"I've never been more sure of anything," he whispered, "than how badly I want to marry you."

The following morning, as Matthew's phone alarm chimed to let him know he had to head to the rink to catch the team plane back to Edmonton for game six, Clayton felt like she hadn't slept a wink. She had spent nearly all night wide awake, constantly replaying Matthew's words.

She wasn't actually contemplating this, was she?

game seven

Game seven of the Stanley Cup finals was something every hockey player dreamed of growing up. There was no higher-stakes game.

And yet, Matthew was treating it like any ordinary Sunday.

Clayton awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs to their bedroom. It smelled a bit burnt—the way Clayton liked her bacon. She knew Matthew preferred chewy bacon, but he would always forego his preferences and cooked for Clayton instead.

It was just one of the many ways Matthew quietly showed his love.

Clayton kicked the covers off, taking a moment to stretch before she climbed out of bed. Dressed in only one of Matthew's torn-up Panthers t-shirts and her underwear, she made her way down the hall, following the smell of freshly brewed coffee. As she crept down the staircase and found Matthew standing at the kitchen island, her heart swelled at the sight.

The kitchen was a bit of a mess, with every cupboard door open in the wake of Hurricane Matthew, as he did every time he cooked. Two plates were set out on the island, one she immediately recognized as the tacky St. Louis Blues one Clayton always insisted she use for breakfast. Matthew's mom had bought them all a matching set when they were young. The logo was faded now, but it was a comfort dish for Clayton.

He hadn't noticed her presence yet; her footsteps were drowned out by the living room TV playing the morning's SportsCenter highlights in the background while he rushed around the kitchen.

Clayton always loved their morning routines, but to see Matthew cherishing their usual ways on what would be the biggest day of his career so far made her heart flutter. Even in the wake of what was going to be a chaotic day, he had time to show up for her.

Clayton always knew he was the one, but this was different.

This just felt right.

"I think we should get married," she said, catching Matthew's attention. He looked up with wide eyes from where he stood at the island. She nervously played with the hem of her oversized shirt, waiting for his reaction. "Like, today."

He accidentally hit the egg he was in the middle of cracking too hard against the counter, splattering it everywhere. "What?" he stuttered out.

"Let's get married today," she repeated, her voice more confident.

Matthew made no motion to clean up the mess, egg yolk dripping from the counter onto the floor as he stood dumbfounded. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"I'm so fucking serious," she assured him, biting down on her bottom lip to try and suppress her grin. At the sight of her wide smile, Matthew came back to life, pushing off the counter to meet her in a feverish kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her so tightly into his chest her feet came off the ground. Giggling into the messy kiss, she wound her arms around his neck to try and keep herself steady. Matthew pulled away for a moment, gently placing her back on the ground and staring down at Clayton.

"You really want to get married today?" he asked, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt or uneasiness.

Clayton nodded her head, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to Matthew's lips. "I really do," she smiled.

His hands came up, cradling her jaw, as he soothed his calloused thumbs over the soft skin of her cheeks. Clayton leaned into his touch, biting down on her bottom lip, and beamed up at him. Her cheeks hurt from how hard she was smiling, but she couldn't stop. She combed her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine as she gently tugged at his hair.

He ducked his head down to meet her in another soft kiss. Clayton sighed into the kiss, melting into him. The press of Matthew's lips grew increasingly demanding, picking up intensity as he dipped Clayton's head back to deepen the kiss. His overgrown playoff beard scratched against her chin, pulling a sweet little sound from Clayton that sent Matthew over the edge.

He dropped his hands to grab roughly at her ass, drawing a giggle from Clayton. He easily lifted her, walking her to the edge of the kitchen counter without breaking their fevered makeout. She shivered as he placed her down, the bare skin of her thighs breaking out in goosebumps from the cold quartz countertop. His rough hands crept under the hem of her oversized t-shirt, greedily sliding up her stomach to cup her breasts.

"Okay, okay," Clayton breathed, placing a hand on Matthew's chest to gently push him away. She tried to catch her breath as Matthew laughed, peppering her face with quick pecks. "Let's stay focused here," she warned.

There would be plenty of time, and reasons, to celebrate later. But if they continued at this rate, they would never make it to a courthouse today.

Matthew reluctantly agreed, dropping his hands down to Clayton's waist. "How do we do this, then?" he asked, thumbs rubbing small circles into her hipbones.

Clayton looked to her right, where Matthew's phone rested on the kitchen counter. She leaned over to grab it, pulled open a browser tab, and typed a quick search for Florida elopement. She scrolled through the results as Matthew watched, smiling as she read their options.

"It looks like we just have to fill out a form on the Broward County website, and we can be married by this afternoon," she beamed, holding the phone up for him to see.

Ignoring the phone, Matthew ducked his head down to capture her lips in a rushed, messy kiss. Clayton took that response as a yes, clicking into the form as Matthew continued to leave a trail of open-mouth kisses along her jaw.

"Oh, look at this," she said, tugging softly on his curls to get his attention back, "for $30, they'll even do a little ceremony at the courthouse if you want."

"Obviously," Matthew answered, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, left exposed by the torn neckline of his old shirt. "No expense spared for the future Mrs. Tkachuk."

"Mrs. Clayton Tkachuk," she repeated softly to herself. "That has a nice ring to it."

"Fuck!"

Matthew froze. Clayton felt his entire body tense up at his outburst, pulling back slightly so she could look down at him and gauge what was wrong. His face looked pale and panicked when he looked up to meet her gaze.

"We need a ring!" he explained. "I don't have one. Fuck, I can't believe I don't have one."

"It's fine," she giggled, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth to soothe his worries. "They're just a technicality. We can get them after."

"No, I want to do this right," he insisted, shaking his head as he stepped back. She watched him scratch at his beard as he thought, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. "Wait, I have an idea," he mumbled, taking off toward the staircase.

Before Clayton could object or say anything else, he was gone, taking the stairs two at a time as he sprinted toward their bedroom. She wasn't sure what his idea was, or if Matthew still wanted this wedding to happen today without rings, but she turned her attention back to the phone just in case. She continued to scroll through the county's website, skimming the requirements.

There was a waiting period for Florida residents, but Matthew's primary address was still listed as his parents' place in St. Louis, so it didn't apply to them. They could be in and out in the same afternoon with their marriage license.

It wasn't exactly the way Clayton had imagined this would happen.

And yet, standing in the kitchen, her hair a mess and wearing nothing but one of Matthew's old T-shirts, this felt oddly perfect. Nothing about their relationship had ever been conventional, and she didn't know why she assumed a wedding would be any different.

But it felt right.

And she didn't want to wait any longer. She just wanted him.

Clayton looked up as she heard Matthew's footsteps reappear. He had a face-splitting grin on his face and his hands tucked behind his back. She pushed herself to the counter's edge, her feet dangling over the edge as she watched him approach.

"Clayton Kozak," he started, slowly dropping to one knee, "will you marry me?"

Her eyes instantly welled up with tears, blurring her vision. She almost couldn't see what was in his hands as he held up a small ring. She furiously wiped the tears away, nodding as she slipped from the counter.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, laughing as he held up that plastic sparkly ring—the one he had won her from a claw machine at the arcade in sixth grade, and she had held onto ever since. She wore it almost every day so she could focus her restless energy on fiddling or playing with the sparkly red plastic whenever she was feeling anxious.

This was cheesy and messy, and yet, somehow, it was exactly everything she wanted. He was everything she wanted.

"Yes," she managed to blubber out between tearful laughs. "In every lifetime, yes, Matty."

stanley cup champion

Clayton had chewed off nearly all of her nail polish during the last minute of the third period. She nervously bit down on her thumbnail as she watched the seconds count down agonizingly slowly.

With only a one-goal buffer, Edmonton had pulled their goalie to send out an extra attacker and try to tie the game and force overtime. If the Panthers could hold off the Oilers for 30 more seconds, they would be champions.

Clayton felt Taryn's hand wrap around her bicep, nervously clutching her arm as they watched. The entire Tkachuk family was practically shaking with nervous excitement.

As the final horn went, there was no point in trying to stop the waterfall of tears. The entire arena erupted, players throwing sticks and gloves into the air as they skated full-speed toward their net, piling onto Sergei Bobrovsky in celebration.

Matthew was a Stanley Cup Champion.

This was everything he had been working toward. Clayton was watching his dream come true in real-time, and she was lucky enough to be along for the ride. She had been there every step of the way and now got to watch her husband hoist the Cup.

She didn't think it was possible, but her watery smile grew even more at the thought of their secret relationship status.

No one had any idea the pair had headed to the courthouse that morning. Clayton had found a little white sundress tucked away in her closet that felt perfect for the occasion. She had tied a blue bow into her hair for her traditional something blue.

The arcade ring she now wore on her left ring finger had been something old. The couple who had been married right before them handed Clayton a small bouquet of flowers to hold during the ceremony—something borrowed.

Matthew had promised he'd win her the Stanley Cup that night as their something new.

In less than 15 minutes, they were in and out—signing their marriage licenses, swearing their vows, and returning home in time for Matthew's pre-game nap.

Clayton twisted the plastic ring on her finger, spinning it as a fresh wave of tears fell. Happy tears, of course. She was so fucking happy.

They knew they'd tell their families eventually—or maybe stage another public engagement and wedding and keep this secret between them. They hadn't entirely worked that out yet, but it would be a problem for another day.

Matthew's mom and sister were just as much of a sobbing mess as Clayton was. The three women linked arms as they watched Aleksander Barkov be handed the Cup. The entire arena erupted into cheers as he hoisted it above his head for the first time.

But Clayton couldn't tear her eyes away from Matthew.

When it was his turn to be handed the Cup, he immediately took off skating full speed to the corner of the rink where his family was sitting. His entire face lit up with joy as he hoisted the Cup above his head, screaming up toward the family section.

As they eventually made their way down onto the ice for reunions and celebrations with players and their families, Clayton stopped for a celebratory hug with nearly every person she passed. She knew it took an entire organization, not just the players on the ice, to make this happen.

By the time she made her way onto the ice, she found Matthew's family in the crowd, and he was giving an interview. His eyes were glassy with tears as he tried to keep his composure under the intense emotions of the night's victory, but when he looked up and noticed Clayton coming his way, he was all smiles.

Her stomach fluttered with butterflies at seeing his gap-toothed smile, the one she had been in love with her entire life. She met Taryn in a quick hug as she joined the rest of the group, waiting for Matthew to wrap up his interview.

"This is for them," Matthew said, looking up toward his family who was watching on. "I'm not here without them. My parents, my brother, my sister, and my wife—this is all for them."

Clayton froze as he said it. She hoped no one else caught on to his words or thought he was serious. She tried to keep her face neutral, but Matthew's growing smirk told her he knew exactly what he had just done.

Clayton felt Taryn's hand tighten around her arm, and she immediately knew they were done for. "Wife?" Taryn shrieked. "I'm sorry. Did anyone else hear that?!"

"Surprise?" Clayton shrugged, giving her new sister-in-law a shy smile.

"Surprised it took that long," Brady said from behind them, laughing.

Clayton glanced over her shoulder to where Matthew's parents were standing. They were both smiling, with no sign of disappointment anywhere on their faces. Clayton breathed a visible sigh of relief as his mom shook her head.

"And when did this happen?" Chantal asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"This morning," Matthew answered. His interview had wrapped up, but the camera crew was still following him as he made his way back to Clayton. He had already greeted his family in celebratory hugs while she had been late to arrive, stopping to congratulate everyone on her way over.

Clayton missed whatever his parents responded with, distracted by Matthew easily grabbing her waist and picking her up in a bone-crushing hug. She wrapped her legs around him as he held her close, her head tucked into the crook of his neck away from the prying eyes of the media around them.

"I'm so fucking proud of you," she practically sobbed into his neck. Seeing him in person brought on a whole new wave of emotions. "I knew you could do it."

Matthew pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck as he held her tightly against him. As incredible as a trophy was, it was just a cherry on top of the day he had. He had already won this morning when Clayton had agreed to marry him. He had everything he ever wanted.

"Thank you for being here," he mumbled into her hair. He briefly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and stop the tears he could feel threatening to fall.

"Nowhere else I'd ever be, Matty."

She pulled back slightly to look down at him, smiling when she noticed his watery eyes. She leaned down to meet him in a tender kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as she melted into him.

She didn't care what mic picked up their moment. In a sea of cameras, all desperately following the players around the ice, hoping to capture the precious moments of celebration with their families, all that existed was Matthew.

Her Matthew.

"I love you so fucking much," she whispered against his lips.

"Every lifetime, baby."

[luca-fantilli]

'tis the damn season | Matthew Tkachuk

today's the unofficial official start to summer, so here's a 4th of July Matty fic I couldn't bear to hold on to for another month. once upon a time, kim @troubatrain wrote another matthew fic by the same title, but i'm fairly confident this is entirely different. as usual, @wyattjohnston was my enabler in writing this.

length: 3.0k words

It’s late when you finally peel yourself off the Adirondack chair you claimed hours ago next to the bonfire, empty seltzer can dangling from your fingertips. The bonfire has died off, barely more than some embers and the occasional spark. Even the fireworks that have been echoing around the lake for days have petered out. It’s just you, Matthew and Taryn left outside, all your other friends having wandered off to find somewhere to sleep—except you think Taryn might have also fallen asleep, wrapped up in one of Matthew’s old Calgary sweatshirts and a beach towel. 

Matthew watches you with heavy eyes, watches as you stretch sleepily and the big T-shirt you’d thrown on over your swimsuit rides up over your hips. 

“Don’t drive home,” Matthew says, so low you barely hear him. 

“What?” you ask. You’re not heading back to the city until after the long weekend is over, and your parents’ lake house is just a couple of miles away. 

“Don’t leave, there’s a lot of drunk idiots out still,” he says again, standing too. You and your friends were some of those drunk idiots earlier in the day, but you don’t point that out. 

“Dude, I’m fine,” you tell Matthew. You turn to look for your flip-flops. “It’s not far, and I stopped drinking a while ago.”

Matthew grabs you by the hip. The night has cooled off, but Matthew’s hand feels hot on your skin. “I’m not worried about you being stupid, I’m worried about something happening to you,” Matthew says. “Don’t go.”

You didn’t pack enough clothes to spend the night—you’d always been planning on heading back to your parents’ at the end of the night. The house was crowded with friends of Matthew and Taryn. 

“There’s nowhere left for me to sleep,” is what you end up saying.

Matthew tightens his grip. You step closer. “Sleep in my bed.”

You’d done it before, but not since before Matthew had moved to Michigan to play for the USNTDP. Not since before your crush on Matthew had shifted from something childish to something more like pining. You stare up at him, his blue eyes serious, clear even in the moonlight. 

One of the logs on the dying bonfire pops and shifts, sending out a spray of sparks. You both startle, moment broken. Matthew takes a half-step back from you. You hadn’t realized how far you’d both leaned in. Taryn stirs somewhere behind you.

“Fine,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.” 

Matthew grins at you. You shake your head at him as you finally turn to walk inside.

You think you hear Taryn murmur, “Get a room,” as you pass her. 

The lake house is a mess. You survey it with dismay for a moment: there’s people passed out on several different couches, empty cans and bottles scattered across most surfaces, and remnants of dinner still sitting out in the kitchen. You drop your own empty can into the recycling near the door and wander quietly through the first floor, picking up what you can. You haven’t been at it very long when Matthew steps inside as well, gently shutting the door behind him. He clicks his tongue at you when he spots you in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

“I thought you were going to bed,” he whispers.

“I got distracted,” you whisper back. 

Matthew trails his fingertips across your side as he steps past you to open the fridge. You shiver, and not because the AC is turned down low. Matthew pulls two bottles of Gatorade out, offers one to you. 

You take it, suddenly surprised at how thirsty you are. 

Matthew watches in amusement for a moment as you chug a third of the bottle, before he says, “C’mon, it’s past your bedtime.”

“It’s not that late—” you try to protest, before you catch a glimpse of the time on the microwave clock. Almost 2 AM. “Oops,” you say instead. 

Matthew flicks off the kitchen light and heads upstairs.

You make a pit stop in Taryn’s room on your way down the hall to Matthew’s room. The door creaks as you open it, and you wince, squinting at the bed, where three of Taryn’s field hockey teammates are sleeping. No one moves. You steal a pair of shorts to sleep in and sneak back out. 

Matthew is waiting for you, again, perched on the edge of his bed. The shower in his ensuite is running, steam filtering through the ajar door. “Shower’s ready for you, if you want,” he says.

There’s a bottle of your face wash and a toothbrush with your initials Sharpied onto the handle underneath his sink, the same way they have been since you were 14. You take a fast shower and try not to think too much about it. 

You run into Matthew when you walk out of the bathroom. Literally. You're bumped backwards, into the doorjamb. Matthew doesn’t step away. You’re still wearing one of his T-shirts. 

“I was just—I need—” Matthew stutters. 

“Matty—” you breathe, before Matthew’s lips crash into yours. He tastes like beer and sunscreen, and you wrap your hands around the back of his neck so you can pull him closer. 

Matthew breaks the kiss first, but he doesn’t go far, pressing his forehead to yours. It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours. 

“I was just going to brush my teeth,” Matthew whispers. 

You make a face instead of kissing Matthew again. His face is still so close to yours. 

“Good, you need it,” you whisper back. Matthew rolls his eyes at you, presses a kiss to your forehead before ducking into the bathroom. 

You’re sprawled out in the center of Matthew’s bed when he re-emerges, watching the ceiling fan turn lazily above you. You feel drunk, like the room’s spinning, too, but you think that might just be proximity to Matthew. You should have just found a couch or a corner of floor to sleep on. 

“No way,” Matthew says, standing at the foot of the bed. “Scoot over.” 

You think about pushing it, just to see if Matthew would push back, but you scoot over. Matthew flops onto the bed next to you in the space you just left, then rolls on top of you, anyway, braced with his hands next to your head. 

You take a second to just look at him. You’ve been sneaking glances all day, over the rim of a seltzer can, from underneath your sunglasses, across the boat. It had felt illicit then, but now Matthew is right in front of you, blue eyes meeting yours. His curls are getting long, messy from being in and out of the lake water all day. He’s always tan now—living in Florida all winter does that—but he’s sunburned across his nose and across the tops of shoulders. You lift one hand and skim a finger down his nose, across his jaw.

“I miss you,” you blurt. It’s not what you had meant to say, but now that you’ve said it, you’re not sure what else there is to say.

Matthew laughs softly. “I’m right here, babe,” he says.

He’s here now, but it won’t be long until summer’s over, and he’ll be gone again. Back to the real world. You don’t know the last time you and Matthew were able to spend time together like this, don’t know if you’ll ever get this time again. It’s always been one thing after another—injuries, or vacations, or work. You don't talk the way you used to, either. Matthew's schedule clashes with yours so often that neither of you have time for hours-long phone calls anymore.

Matthew drops to an elbow and brushes your hair out of your face. You try not to sigh. His hand is on your knee next, by his ribs with your feet flat on the bed. You don’t stop him as his hand starts to slide up your thigh, closer to the hem of his T-shirt, riding up your hips again. 

Matthew drags a line of kisses down your neck. You can’t stop your sigh this time. Matthew comes up for air, tucks another strand of hair behind your ear. It’s humid outside and in Matthew’s bed; you can’t breathe, gasp for air. His hand is back on your hip, burning hot on your skin. 

He asks, “Yeah?” 

You can feel his breath on your cheek. He’s panting, too, and it’s nice to know that he’s as wrapped up in this as you are, at least for this moment. That he might want you almost as bad as you want him. That he’s wanted you as long as you’ve wanted him.  

You don’t trust yourself to get any words out, just nod. 

“Think you can stay quiet?” Matthew says, before sealing his lips on yours again. 

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You wake up late the next morning, the ghost of Matthew’s fingers still on your skin. He’s in bed, too, tangled in the sheets, head turned away from you. Distantly, you hear the sounds of the rest of the house stirring, your friends laughing, coffee brewing. You don’t make any move to get up.

You’re still laying there later—15 minutes, 30 minutes, you’re not sure—when Matthew starts to stir. He rolls over quickly, almost panicked, but he relaxes and smiles when he sees you still lying next to him. 

“Hi,” he says dumbly. He fumbles for his phone, but it’s not beside him. “What time is it?” His words and eyes are still heavy with sleep.

You don't know either; you must have left your phone downstairs last night;. You shrug and stretch. Matthew watches you closely, the way your body moves beneath the sheets. You feel your cheeks flush. 

“Dunno,” you say. Closer to noon than early morning, if you had to guess by the way the light is slanting through the partially closed blinds. “Late,” you add. 

Matthew grins at you and props himself up on one elbow. You have to resist the urge to reach up and tug on his curls, even messier now from your hands and sleep. 

“Then I don’t think anyone will miss us if we stay in bed a little longer,” he says, leaning over to kiss you.

You indulge him and his morning breath for a few moments. Wrapped up in your own little bubble, twisted together in Matthew’s sheets, you can pretend just a little longer—that this is real, that it won’t disappear the second you step through that doorway and back into a world where other people and other obligations exist. But then your stomach rumbles and shatters your illusion.

You push Matthew away by the shoulders—gently, though part of you wants to be harsh with him, hurt him the way you know he’s going to break your heart. Matthew goes easily, but you see the flash of furrowed brow before he smooths his expression back into something easygoing. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” you say, “but I need something to eat.” 

Matthew raises his eyebrows at you. “I’ve got an idea of what I want to eat,” he leers. 

You knee him in the chest in retaliation.

“Oof,” Matthew complains, but he’s laughing. 

He rolls off of you, rubbing his chest and pouting at you. You just roll your eyes and slide out of bed. You hunt the floor for the shorts you’d been wearing when you went to bed, trying to ignore the way you can feel Matthew staring at your ass. Your shorts ended up across the room, by the bathroom door. When you turn around again, Matthew is pulling on a shirt. There’s a hickey on his collarbone that you hazily remember leaving there. He sees you looking as his bare skin disappears and smirks at you before throwing another clean shirt of his at your face. 

You grab the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, but say, “Turn around.”

Matthew gapes at you. “It’s nothing I didn’t see last night,” he tells you. 

It feels different in the daylight, though. You stare Matthew down until he heaves a sigh and turns his back. 

You poke Matthew in the ribs when you’ve finished changing. It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Matthew gave you a shirt with his number stamped on the left shoulder to wear. Matthew reaches to take your hand as you start down the stairs, but you pull away and run ahead of him.

This isn’t like that. 

“Oh, you’re both alive,” Taryn calls when she sees you. “We were thinking about sending someone up to check on you.” 

You and Matthew exchange a look. You don’t miss Taryn smirking from her spot on the couch. 

“Where is everybody?” Matthew says, instead of saying anything to give Taryn any more ammunition. The house has quieted down. There’s still a few of Taryn’s teammates lounging around, but it looks like more of Matthew’s friends have cleared out.

“Weather’s shitty, people started leaving after breakfast,” she says. 

Outside the windows that overlook the lake, there’s fog clinging to the water. It looks chilly out, and you shiver. You tell yourself it’s because of the cold, and not because Matthew is standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat. He nudges your elbow, and he’s holding a cup of coffee out to you, already the perfect color for you to drink it. You shoot him a grateful smile as you take it; your fingers brush, and you try not to jerk your hand away. 

“Nobody even said good-bye,” Matthew gripes.

You laugh, but it’s Taryn who says: “Maybe because you’re a shit host.”

Matthew gasps in outrage and throws a discarded can koozie at her. It falls weakly to the floor halfway to the couch, and all of you burst out laughing. You and Matthew move easily around each other in the kitchen, piecing together leftovers and assembling your breakfasts. It sends a pang through your chest, the familiarity of it, even as the years and distance build a canyon between your relationship. You don’t know when Matthew went from being your best friend, to the boy you dreamed of marrying one day, to the guy you knew so well yet barely knew at all. 

You feel like you can’t breathe.

“That’s disgusting,” you say, watching Matthew take a bite out of a cold bratwurst straight from the fridge.

Matthew shrugs. “What?” he says with his mouth full. “It’s a sausage, people eat sausage for breakfast all the time!” 

“But not—oh, fuck you, never mind,” you say. 

You escape the kitchen, slipping through the back door to the porch. The bonfire from last night has long since burned out entirely, but you drop into one of the chairs beside it anyway, where you eat your breakfast undisturbed. When your plate is cleared, you wander down to the dock.

The late morning sun has finally started to burn away the fog, but the air is still cool. You sit down on the edge of the dock and let your feet dangle in the water. It’s quiet, especially for the day after the holiday; the weather has scared people indoors. You shiver again. You only have a few minutes of peace before you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know that they belong to Matthew.

He drops down onto the dock behind you, drapes his legs off the edge on either side of yours. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you let yourself lean back into his chest. Neither of you speak.

You’d been here once before, sitting on this dock with Matthew. You were younger then. Matthew had just been drafted, and you were heading off to college. You’d both been on the verge of something big, and you thought maybe it had been your chance to do big things, together. You wonder if Matthew is thinking of that night, too, of the silence in the darkness of midnight, when you’d both slipped away.

Matthew presses his lips to your shoulder, where the collar of your shirt—his shirt—has slid down and exposes your bare skin. 

“Would you wait for me?” you asked, 18 years old and so, so scared of losing everything you had ever known. Desperately trying to hold onto Matthew.

“Would you?” he asked back. “Would you still be ready for me in another few years?” You both knew you couldn’t even imagine following Matthew to Calgary until you had graduated, unwilling to sacrifice your own future for a possible one with Matthew.

You had waited. You had been waiting for Matthew for even longer than you were willing to admit. Even when you were in other relationships, you felt like you were just waiting for something else. For someone else. You wondered now what your life would look like if you had said yes to Matthew on the dark dock all those summers ago, if you’d waited for each other. You couldn’t wait any longer. 

“You could stay for a few more days,” Matthew says. 

“You know I can’t,” you say. You reach back so you can run your hand through his hair. One last time. “Think we could do this again sometime?” Matthew asks. “You know we can’t,” you say. Matthew sighs. You can feel the tension in his body. He’s ready for a fight, but you don’t know if you have the energy for it. You lean more of your weight against him, and he holds you up, strong and steady.

Matthew takes a moment before he responds. “We could,” he argues. “We could do this forever.” Your heart hurts. You know he doesn't mean it.

“Matthew,” you say, quietly. “Matthew, please.” “Why not?” he asks. “We’re good together, aren’t we?”

You are, and you wish you didn’t know just how good it could be between you. In your head, you see all the things you could have, all the things you should have done. It’s so, so tempting. 

“I think we both know why we didn’t try ‘us’ when we were 18, Matty,” you tell him. The petty arguments, the way you were both so stubborn that hanging out ended in slamming doors just as often as it didn't. You always came back, but you don't know if you can do it much longer.

You move to leave, and Matthew slides back to allow it. You let him offer you a hand as you stand up. Matthew squeezes your hand once, quickly, just before you let go. You leave him sitting on the dock. You don’t look back as you make your way back up to the house. 

Some things are best left in the past.

[luca-fantilli]

homecoming | matthew tkachuk

summary: five times matthew came home to you from a roadie

warnings: lots of fluff, pregnancy, babies

a/n: hey hi hello! i’ve wanted to write for ratty for awhile and finally came up with this. hope y’all enjoy!

xoxo

nina

one.

You danced around your kitchen as you made dinner, your hips swinging to the music pouring from your speakers as you stirred the pasta on the stove. You loved cooking and you often found yourself getting lost singing to your favorite songs as you worked in the kitchen.

“And all the girls think that they’d be your partner,” you sang into your wooden spoon, your hips moving as you belted the words. “They’d be your partner! You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you!”

A deep chuckle sounded behind you, making you drop your spoon as you spun around. Leaning against your entryway was your best friend Matthew Tkachuk, his sly grin plastered on his face as he smirked at you, “Don’t let me interrupt, you know I love Carly Simon.”

“Jesus you can’t scare me like that,” you gasped as you put your hand to your chest, only causing Matthew to laugh harder. “How did you even get in here? When did you get back?”

“You gave me a spare key months ago,” you watched as Matthew grabbed a paper towel and crouched down to grab your dropped spoon, wiping up the mess of sauce it left behind. “Got in an hour ago, wanted to see my favorite girl.”

You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks as Matthew smirked at you. You’d been friends for a few years now and he never failed to pull that reaction out of you.

“I was just making dinner if you want to stay,” you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to the pasta and sauce you had going. “It’s pesto, your favorite.”

“Good thing I brought your favorite wine,” Matthew walked back to the entryway before reappearing with your favorite red wine and a bouquet of multicolored tulips. “And your favorite flowers.”

“Matty…,” your eyes widened in shock as you looked at your best friend who simply grinned at you. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Just trying to show my favorite girl how much I appreciate her,” Matthew smiled as he stepped closer to you, setting the wine and flowers on the counter before skating his arms around your waist. “I’ve been thinking about you all week. Couldn’t get you off my mind.”

Your heart was racing as you met Matthew’s eyes, his grip on your waist pulling you closer to him, “And what were you thinking about?”

“How you’re my best friend and how much I need you in my life,” Matthew’s voice dropped down to just above a whisper as he leaned his forehead against yours. “How much I want to kiss you, to stop calling you my best friend and start calling you my girlfriend. How much I love you….”

As soon as the word leaves Matthew’s lips you’re closing the short distance between the two of you, your lips pressed together as your fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Only took you five years,” you grinned up at Matthew who in turn rolled his eyes before he leaned down to kiss you again. “And for the record… I love you too.”

two.

You’d had quite possibly the longest day at work ever. Between your boss being an absolute dick and your clients being snarky and rude you were ready to curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a trashy rom com. And that didn’t even get into the traffic that had you coming home at an ungodly hour.

It didn’t help anything that Matthew was on the road right now and wasn’t due back until tomorrow. Your hands shook as you unlocked your apartment, the urge to call your best friend turned boyfriend so strong that you were shakily grabbing for your phone as you made your way inside.

Once you closed the door you leaned your head against the cool wood, heart hammering in your chest as you tried to hold back tears.

The attempt failed.

Your shoulders shook under the weight of your cries, your bag dropping to the floor as you cried to yourself in the doorway of your apartment. The weight of the day settled over you as your knees grew weak and you nearly dropped to the floor.

But you didn’t drop, instead a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and you gasped slightly as Matthew pulled you to his chest.

“Hey hey, it’s okay baby,” Matthew soothed as he held you close. “It’s alright, I got you.”

Your sobs continued as Matthew led you to the couch where he promptly sat down and held you close as you continued to cry. You sat in his embrace for a few minutes, letting him soothe you as you clung tightly to his shoulders.

“I thought you were supposed to be back tomorrow,” you sniffled as Matthew rubbed his hands across your back. “I thought-“

“I’m here now, that’s all that matters,” Matthew mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “What’s wrong baby? What can I do to help you?”

You relaxed slightly as Matthew held you, his body pressed so close you couldn’t help but take the comfort he was giving you.

“I just… It was a long day,” you sighed as you pressed impossibly closer. “It sucked and all I wanted was you and now you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here baby,” Matthew cooed as he pressed his lips to your temple. “I’ll always be here for my favorite girl. No matter what.”

Matthew held you through the night, eventually pulling you toward your bed and dressing you in your pajamas. He held you the whole night and when you woke in the morning with him pressed against you, you couldn’t remember why you were upset in the first place.

three.

It was late, but not late enough for you to have to explain why you weren’t asleep yet. Matthew was due home any minute now, and you were more excited than you would ever been. Even though the Panthers had lost in the semi finals for the Stanley Cup, you couldn’t hold back the grin that was threatening to split your face.

Matthew walked into your bedroom just shy of midnight. When he spotted you wearing his jersey and what looked to be little else his grin widened.

“Sorry you guys got knocked out,” you whispered as Matthew toed off his shoes and made his way toward you.

“S’okay. I have some fun plans for the off season I’ve been eager to get to,” he grinned as he began to unbutton his shirt, your eyes going straight to his toned chest.

“Like what?”

Matthew smirked as he removed his shirt and moved toward the bed. He grabbed your left hand and pressed a kiss to the ring that adorned your finger, “Like making my favorite girl my wife in a few weeks.”

“Twenty one days, seventeen hours, and twelve minutes but who’s counting,” you grinned as Matthew straddled your legs and pressed kisses to your cheeks. “Matty!”

“I’m sorry I only respond to ‘hubby’ now,” you laughed loudly as Matthew buried his face in your neck, lightly nipping at the skin. “God I love you baby.”

“I love you more, hubby.”

four.

It was nearly 3 AM but you couldn’t sleep. The other side of the bed was cold and Matthew would be home soon from a roadie out to California. Normally you wouldn’t stay up to wait for him, he’d usually slip into bed at some ungodly hour and wrap his body around yours. But he had taken a hard hit in his game against San Jose last night and you couldn’t stop worrying about him.

You heard the front door creak open then close quietly, Matthew’s footsteps echoing softly in the living room before he started up the stairs. It wasn’t long before he appeared in the doorway of your shared bedroom, heaving a sigh as he saw you were still up.

“I’m fine, baby,” Matthew tried to reassure you, but as you turned on the bedside lamp you let out a loud gasp. “It looks worse than it is.”

“You have a black eye and stitches, Matthew,” you threw the covers off, walking toward your husband. Once you stood in front of Matthew, his eyes avoiding yours, you cupped his face in your hands. “Jesus Matty…”

Matthew shrugged out of your hold, beginning to pull off his suit as you sat on the edge of the bed, “It’s fine, that fucker had it coming.”

“You can’t keep getting into stupid fights on the ice,” you warned as you crossed your arms under your breasts with a wince. You’d never been concerned about his on ice antics before, but it was different now. “I need you to come home in one piece.”

“I always do, don’t I,” Matthew scoffed but when he turned around he could see the tears shining in your eyes. “Baby it was one fight. I’m a hockey player, it’s what I do.”

You nodded and sniffled, wiping at your cheeks, “I know but… I can’t keep watching you put yourself on the line, I can’t keep worrying every time you’re playing that something horrible is going to happen.”

Matthew stepped towards you, his boxers hanging low on his hips as his shirt and pants had been abandoned behind him, “Hey, I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere okay? What’s really wrong, huh? You’ve never had a problem before.”

“I’m sorry I just-“

“Don’t apologize,” Matthew shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you’re the most important person in my life, my favorite girl. I’m sorry I scared you.”

You nodded but sat in Matthew’s embrace for a few more minutes, letting his warm body soothe your anxiety.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth and I’ll be right back,” Matthew pressed another kiss to your forehead before tucking you into bed and heading for the bathroom. Your eyes had just closed when you heard him all but shriek. “Babe?”

Matthew reappeared in the doorway as you sat up, his eyes wide as he held up two plastic sticks. You grinned sheepishly as he looked from the tests to you, “I forgot they were in there. I was going to buy a tiny jersey and surprise you and-“

Before you could get another word out Matthew was across the room, pulling you into his arms as he peppered your face with kisses. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you as he held you close.

“Fuck baby, I’m never getting in another fight ever again,” Matthew murmured as he pressed his face to your hair. “I’m never leaving again, I’ll only play home games and when the baby comes I’ll retire and-“

“Matthew,” you giggled as you pressed your hand to your husbands cheek. “You’re not retiring, you’re barely 30. And you’re not changing your schedule. Just be a little more careful, okay?”

With a nod Matthew settled into bed next to you, his hands instantly gravitating to your flat stomach. He sighed into your neck as he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to the warm skin, “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.”

“Me neither,” you smiled as you cuddled into his hold.

“I’m screwed if it’s a girl, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely.”

five.

“Riley get down from there before you bust your head open,” you sighed as your three year old daughter grinned at you from her place on the kitchen counter. “I’m so serious right now! When your dad gets home he’s going to be so mad!”

“Daddy!”

“Yes, daddy,” you crossed your arms over your swollen belly and fixed the toddler with a glare. “He’s not going to like that you’re not listening to mommy.”

“Daddy! Daddy!”

You sighed as you rubbed a hand over your face in exasperation. Being nine months pregnant and dealing with your daughter while Matthew was on a roadie was not easy. Riley had a wild streak that made her hard to handle on good days, but she always seemed to act up more when Matthew wasn’t around to help you.

“Riley Chantal I really hope you’re listening to your mama,” you whipped around and sighed in relief as you saw Matthew standing behind you. “Get off the counter.”

Riley scrambled off the counter as Matthew pulled you into a hug, your shoulders dropping as you let him hold you, “Thank god you’re here.”

“Missed my favorite girl,” Matthew murmured into your hair as he held you close, one hand coming down to cradle your baby bump. “How’s little man doing?”

“She’s doing fine,” you grinned as you watched Riley run toward her father. She wrapped her arms around his legs and Matthew broke away from you to lift Riley up. “You happy daddy’s home?”

Riley nodded as she looked up at Matthew, “Mimi is coming over!”

“Mimi Chantal?” Matthew questioned as Riley nodded her head. “Why’s she coming?”

“Cause mommy’s having a baby, duh,” Riley said the statement with an air of certainty as she looked at you. “Right mama?”

Matthew looked at you in confusion but you simply smiled as you’d settled a hand onto your belly, “My water broke half an hour ago.”

“And you didn’t call?!”

“I checked your location and made sure you were headed home,” you stepped around Matthew and gestured to the hospital bags by the door. “I was ready, been ready for a few weeks now.”

“Holy fuck-“

“Bad word daddy!” Riley shrieked as she slapped a hand over Matthew’s mouth.

“Sorry baby girl,” Matthew sighed as he kissed Riley’s cheek, watched as you leaned against the wall and closed your eyes. “Babe?”

“I’m fine,” you breathed out, eyes snapping open. “I’ve been having contractions all day.”

“Babe!”

The front door burst open just then as Chantal walked in, Riley immediately wiggling out of Matthews arms to run to her grandma.

“Matthew Brendan I really hope you’re not yelling at the woman who’s about to have your baby,” you chuckled at Chantal’s remark before another contraction hit you. You took a deep breath but struggled to hold back your groan as pain surged up your back.

Before you could say anything Matthew was at your side, rubbing your back and holding you close, “Okay let’s get going before you have this baby in the car.”

You straightened up and gave Riley a kiss before following Matthew out the door, accepting his help as you stepped up into the passenger seat of your SUV.

“Looks like I came home right on time,” Matthew grinned as he leaned across the console to kiss you.

“Don’t you always?”

[luca-fantilli]

YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE | Matthew Tkachuk x Reader SUMMARY: You've been dancing around each other for eight months. Tonight it all changes.

Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: none, fluff, situationship to lovers, slightly inspired by Juno but like think of it as if Kidz Bop covered the song

“Matty, you’d make a great dad one day.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, before you can think too hard about the weight they carry. He’s driving you home after you came to watch one of his games, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, his fingers tapping out the rhythm of the song playing on the radio.

He glances at you, a little taken aback by the sudden comment, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You think so?” His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, enough for you to notice. You wonder if he meant for you to notice—or if it’s something unintentional that says more than he’s ready to admit.

“Mhm.” You rest your hand on top of his, and he intertwines your fingers without hesitation. “You’re so kind. Gentle. I love seeing you with kids.”

He spent a while in the tunnels and on the walk to his car taking photos with and signing stuff for fans. He’s always nicer to the kids. You’d seen it earlier, how he knelt down to talk to the younger fans after the game, always giving them his full attention. He wasn’t just signing autographs and posing for photos—he made the kids feel seen, made them laugh, made their day. 

That image of him with kids is unlocking something primal inside you, something that’s been lying dormant through these eight confusing months. You’re not together, not officially, but you kind of are. And yet, you aren’t. It’s all a blur of nights out that start with flowers in his hand and end with hours-long walks around the city, deep conversations, and moments that feel so much like love but are left unspoken.

He makes sure you’re off-limits to other guys—be it his own team or strangers at a bar—He brings you chocolates when you’re down and shows up with trinkets from his trips because “I thought of you when I saw it.” He’s staked his claim in his own quiet way, marked you as his, but no one’s ever put a label on it. You kiss, you hook up, but none of that is a declaration of feelings. It’s all wrapped up in a hellish limbo that’s safe but severely unstable. 

They always tell you not to fall in love with someone you’re just sleeping with. And you would have listened if it were just sex. You would have listened if it was just a stress reliever. But it wasn’t. If nothing else, you were sure that it wasn’t. Not when you’ve both shared your deepest fears, your worst regrets. Not when you’ve made a habit of slow dancing to love songs in your living room. Not when you’ve spent hours in each others’ arms just appreciating each others’ presence. 

“You think I’d make a good dad, huh?” His voice brings you back, and his smile grows as he absorbs your words.

“I know so. You’re patient. You listen. You make people feel important—especially kids. I see it in how you treat them.” You pause, eyes shifting. “How you treat me.”

The smile on his face grows as your words stroke his ego. His hands are still in yours, your fingers playing with his as you ride in silence for a moment. You’re playing with his fingers. His eyes are on the road but there’s something deeper there now—something more than the easygoing banter you two usually share. 

There’s a look on his face, like he’s thinking of something beyond this moment. You don’t know what it is but you hope it involves a house with a yard and a porch. You hope it involves small kids running around and getting messy. You hope it involves baby monitors and diapers and changing tables. You hope it involves family meals on Sundays and large gatherings on holidays. You hope it involves you. And him. And matching rings on that special finger.

“What about you?” he asks.

You blink. “What about me?”

“You think you’d make a good mom?”

The question hangs between you for a moment. You’d avoided talking about the future like you’d avoided labeling whatever this was. You kept things light, kept things flexible. Lowered the stakes. It made sure no one got hurt. But now, with him guiding the conversation in this direction, with his fingers laced tightly with yours, you think you wouldn’t mind all the risks that come with opening your heart fully to him.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” you admit, feeling the vulnerability creep in. “Maybe if the right person came along.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just keeps his eyes on the road. But you feel his hand give yours a squeeze. “And if the right person is already here?”

You swallow, feeling your heart race, knowing exactly what he’s getting at. “Then…I think I’d want to figure things out with them.” You take a deep breath. “Day by day. But we’d be together.”

His grip tightens again, as if to reassure you. “Together,” he repeats quietly, like a promise.

The conversation eases into safer waters after that. You talk about his game, some light gossip, and the rest of your day. But the weight of what you just said lingers, buzzing quietly between you both.

When he walks you to your door, his hand rests firmly on your waist, pulling you close. The silence is peaceful as you fumble with your keys. Then, he breaks it.

“What if…” His voice is quieter now, more uncertain. “What if I’m that person? The one who’s close by?”

Your heart stutters, and you turn to face him. There’s no ambiguity this time. No veiled meanings or unspoken words. He’s telling you exactly what he wants. His eyes are searching yours, silently pleading for an answer that might shape both your futures.

“If it were you…” You step closer, bringing your hand up to his cheek. “We’d take things slow. Start by telling each other how we feel. Go on a real date.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “We’d see where it all takes us. Baby steps.”

He takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your wrist. “What would you say if I asked you how you feel?” His gaze is intense now, searching for confirmation, wanting.

You catch your breath. “I’d say…” You pause, your heart pounding. “I want to make you fall in love with me.”

His hand slides to your hip, pulling you flush against him. “And I’d tell you it already happened.”

Your heart skips a beat as his words sink in. “Tell me properly. Please,” you whisper, the desperation clear in your voice. 

“I love you,” he breathes, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Again.”

He kisses your cheek. “I love you.”

“One more time.”

He cups your face in his hands, eyes filled with affection. “I love you,” he says softly, then closes the space between you with a gentle, tender kiss. 

This time, it feels real. Different from all the other kisses. This one isn’t just heat or desire—it’s soft and steady, filled with unspoken words, layered with meaning. You can feel the shift, the quiet promises lingering in the space between you. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, like he's trying to show you all the things he’s never said out loud.

When he pulls back slightly, you can still feel the warmth of his breath, the ghost of the kiss lingering. “Now it’s your turn,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the words spilling out like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue for months, desperate to be said. It feels right, natural, like the final piece clicking into place.

And when he kisses you again, you realize everything has finally fallen into place. You can see it now—the house, the kids, the life you could build together. You’ve spent so long dancing around each other, but tonight feels like a promise of something more. A promise of a future. Maybe it’s time to let him lock you down, to let him in, not just to your heart, but to the life you’ve quietly imagined with him.

[luca-fantilli]

Under the Radar - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Matthew Tkachuk elopes with his secret lover, the biggest issue... she's Luke Hughes' twin sister.

Content: marriage, secret relationship, age gap (it's legal!!), angst, unsupportive family, mentions of sex, fighting, physical violence (not between couple!)

WC: 3.45k

notes: i listened to "Archie, Marry Me" by Alvvays on repeat while writing this and "Please Please Please" cause that's how freya feels about matt here lol i've been watching the stanley cup finals and my love for matt tkachuk has grown hehe enjoy!! :D obviously idk anyone in this story personally, so it's all for the drama !!

Freya giggled as Matthew placed kisses on her exposed shoulder. She was standing in front of the full body mirror in her boyfriend's room, flattening out the silky white dress that she'd chosen for the occasion. The white silk fell mid thigh and had small slit on the left side, a small bow adorned the corseted top.

"Fuck, you look stunning, love," Matt whispered in her ear, goosbumps forming on the back of her neck.

"I just need to do my hair, then we can head out," Freya smiled, giving Matthew a quick peck as she walked into his bathroom. He followed her, watching as she took the heated curling iron and spun a piece of her dirty blonde hair around it. After finishing some loose curls and setting them with hair spray, Freya did a once over in the mirror.

"What d'you think, Matty?"

"Hottest girl on this planet," he smirked, trailing kisses along her neck.

"Stop! We've gotta get to the courthouse."

"Right, right. But after..."

"Matt!"

"We've gotta consummate the marriage, Frey."

She giggled, hiding her face in his neck. He placed a kiss to her head, spinning her around so he could admire them in the mirror. She grabbed her phone, snapping a quick mirror pic.

"That one's getting framed," she nodded, zooming on her boyfriend's face.

"Are you sure you don't want me to shave? Just for the photos?" Matt offered.

"No! The scruff is soooo hot! Jess said we have to look hot for our photos!"

"Okay, okay. Can't believe Jess knows we're getting married, but our families don't."

"We'll tell them when it's time. Plus, Jess is good at keeping secrets."

That was true. Freya's best friend, Jessica, had been keeping the couple's relationship a secret for a year and a half now. The girls had met at University of Miami two years before and had been best friends ever since.

"You got your ring?" Matthew asked, placing the small velvet box in his suit jack.

"Yes, sir! I'm so excited!"

"Me too, baby. Can't wait for you to be Mrs. Tkachuk."

"Sounds so hot when you say it," she flirted, placing a hand on his lapel.

He winked, "Sit on the bed. I'll help you with your heels."

Freya complied, bouncing as she sat down. Matt grabbed the strappy, white heels from his closet. He guided her feet into them, gently doing up the buckles. She ran a hand through his hair, fixing it the way she liked it.

"Shall we, Future Mrs. Tkachuk?"

"We shall," she giggled, interlocking their arms as they walked to the parking garage.

"And Miss Hughes, do you take Matthew Tkachuk to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the man behind the counter asked.

"I do," she beamed, holding Matt's hands tightly in her own.

"Do you, Mr. Tkachuk, take Freya Hughes to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

The couple met in a sweet kiss, not wanting it to be too long in the public courthouse.

"If you'll both just sign here and here," the man smiled, sliding the paper and pen towards the couple. "Pefect! You two are now legally married. Congratulations!"

Freya's smile was so wide, it hurt her cheeks. She was practically jumping as they exited the building. Matthew was smiling just as brightly, tightly gripping onto his wife's waist.

"Jess!" Freya exclaimed, throwing her arms around her best friend.

"There's Mrs. Tkachuk! Always knew you two would end up together, Frey. I've been telling you since we met," Jess whispered. Freya blushed, pushing her best friend.

"Let's go take some photos!" Matthew guided the girls into his car, driving them down to a small, very private park. They snapped some cute photos together, before Jess handed Freya a bottle of champagne. She shook it, spraying the alcohol all over herself and her husband. Jess got some amazing candids of the couple, especially as they met in a passionate kiss that she snapped a few shots of.

"Enjoy your wedding night!" Jess shouted, waving goodbye.

Freya couldn't stop giggling as they entered Matt's bedroom, "We're married! I'm married to the love of my life!"

"Did you chug a bunch of that champagne when I wasn't looking? Or are you just drunk on love?" Matt teased.

"Matt! We're married!"

"I know, love! Freya Tkachuk. God, that sounds so hot," his voice was gruff as he pulled her on top of him on the bed.

"I love you so much," she pressed kisses all over his face.

"I love you too, Frey. Now... shall we make this marriage official," he smirked, placing his hands on her hips.

"Any cute boys at school?" Ellen asked.

"What? No, Mom. I told you I'm focusing on my degree," Freya giggled, helping her mom to make dinner. They were at the cottage that Quinn and Jack had purchased. The Hughes family had invited the Tkachuks for a weekend and Freya was desperately trying to hide her excitement, having not seen her husband in just over a month.

"I know, I know. Just thought maybe some would've caught your eye. Who knows... maybe when Luke's friends come you'll find one of them cute."

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. But, Luke told me that Dylan's little brother is single."

"MOM!"

Ellen laughed, continuing to cut up the fruit in front of her.

"We're home!" Quinn shouted, placing his keys in the bowl in the front hall. Ellen quickly wiped her hands off, running to meet their guests.

"Chantal! Keith! How've you been?"

The two families immediately started chatting away, Freya biting her lip when she saw Matt wink at her. She was pulled into a conversation with Chantal about school and if Matt had helped her out at all while living in Flordia.

"Oh, yeah. He always asks if I need anything. I even went to a few games first semester," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Look at that ring! So cute! Where'd you get it?" Taryn squealed.

"My best friend Jess bought it for me!" Freya lied. That was the excuse that the couple had come up with. Matt had 'bought his own ring' and 'Jess' had bought Freya's.

"It's beautiful! Could be a wedding ring!"

"Yeah. She's the best."

"You live with Jess?" Chantal asked.

"Yeah, yeah. We've lived together this past year."

"Before we get too far into conversation, let's show everyone their rooms," Ellen smiled, unknowingly saving Freya from crafting more lies.

After a dinner full of catching up, Matt and Freya sat around the fire with the rest of the kids. The adults had called it a night an hour before, but the young adults were still buzzing with excitement. Freya was clasping a seltzer between her hands, sitting between her twin and Taryn.

"No boyfriend?" Taryn asked, taking a sip of her White Claw.

"Hm? I'm too focused on school."

"Lukey's been trying to set her up with Tyler Duke, but she's not interested," Quinn snorted from beside Brady.

"He's just... not my type."

"Not your type? Tyler is like the definition of your type, Frey! Curly haired, hockey player? You'd marry him on the spot if you hadn't convinced yourself you're focused on your studies," Luke laughed.

Freya's eyes looked around the fire, meeting with Matt's, who had his eyebrow quirked.

"Tell us more about this Tyler kid," he mused, taking a long drink from his beer.

"He's a sophmore at Umich. Is madly in love with Freya and has been since I started doing hockey with Dylan. They even kissed when they were like 14."

"Luke! Stop!" Freya hid her face in her hands. Matthew looked unimpressed, chugging the rest of his beer, before cracking open another one.

"Maybe Freya doesn't like younger guys," Jack joked, making Matthew cover his smirk with his new drink.

"Can we stop talking about my love life? Please!"

"It's okay, Frey. Matt's is just as sad," Brady joked, patting his older brother on the back.

"What can I say? Baby brother got married before me, and all my hopes and dreams went down the drain," Matt retorted, staring directly at Freya. She swallowed harshly, now reaching for another drink. She couldn't do this sober.

After the awkward conversation about her love life, or lack there of, Freya was silent. She didn't want to accidentally say something to out the face that she was married at 20, especially with all the alcohol running through her system. It wasn't until the next day that things really went down hill.

Everyone was paying Quinn to get more alcohol for that night. Matt opened his wallet when a photo fell out, not noticing he fished out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the eldest Hughes. Luke bent down, grabbing the photo that had fallen on the floor. His brow furrowed as he studied the image. His sister in a Panthers jersey, her arms wrapped around a sweaty looking Matt.

"What's wrong, Rusty?" Jack laughed, "What's that?"

Luke handed the photo to his brother, who also took a moment to study it.

"Is that Freya?"

"What're we looking at?" Freya smiled, pushing her way between her brothers. Her face fell, "Where'd you get that?"

"Matt dropped it," Luke's eyes narrowed at his sister.

"Oh. Hm, that's... huh," she trailed off.

"Quinn! Come look at this!" Jack waved over his brother, who was chatting with Brady. Matt had disappeared off to the kitchen to talk to Jim.

"Why? Oh... Frey?" Quinn shot her a questioning look after being handed the photo.

"Why's everyone so upset? We're friends," she tried to smile.

"Then why's it in his wallet?" Luke sneered.

"Because... we're really good friends?" she shrugged, sounding unsure of herself.

Quinn huffed, pushing the photo into Jack's chest. He stormed off to the kitchen, followed by the rest of the kids. He harshly pushed Matt, making the taller boy stumble.

"Wow. What the hell, Quinn?" Matt turned around.

"You're fucking my little sister?! She's barely legal, Matthew! And you're fucking 26!"

"Quinn," Ellen warned, but her son didn't listen. He pushed Matt again, this time getting a shove in return.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you need to calm the fuck down," Matt attempted to keep his composure, knowing he could easily overpower the Hughes' boy.

"Don't even pretend to be innocent! You've been sleeping with Freya!"

"Freya? What's Quinn talking about, dear?" Ellen asked, moving away from the boys.

"I- I don't know, Mom."

"Bullshit! Look at this, Mom!" Jack handed the photo over. Ellen looked it over, a confused expression covering her face. She met Freya's pleading eyes, biting her bottom lip.

The fight between Quinn and Matt was escalating. After a particularly harsh push from Quinn, Matthew tackled him to the floor. The kitchen broke out into hysterics. Everyone was shouting, telling the boys to stop. Freya had started to cry, Taryn holding onto her tightly. Even if Taryn was a little upset she didn't know about her childhood friend's relationship with her brother, she was still going to support her.

"Enough!" Jim's voice broke through the noise, he and Keith wrangled Mattew off Quinn. "Everyone in the living room, now!"

Freya stood next to Taryn, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Quinn and Luke were fuming. Jack appeared to be a bit upset, but he wasn't as protective over his little sister.

"Someone, please, explain what the hell is going on here!" Jim boomed.

"Matt's been taking advantage of Freya!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Matthew," Chantal looked towards her oldest.

"He- he's not taking advantage of me," Freya wiped her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie.

"Let's hear what Matthew and Freya have to say before we jump to conclusions," Ellen mediated.

"I-" Freya started.

"We're married," Matthew cut her off. Silence filled the room.

"You're what?!" Jim asked, anger covering his face.

"We- we got married at the end of the semester," Freya explained, more tears leaving her eyes. Taryn rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Why?! Are you pregnant?!" Chantal gasped.

"No, Mom. She's not pregnant. We- we love each other."

"She's 20!" Luke yelled.

"This... this does seem a bit sudden, Frey," Jack mumbled.

"No! Matthew and I are in love!" Freya sobbed, standing up and moving towards him. Jim stopped her before she could, handing her over to her mother.

"I think it's best you leave, Matthew," Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"You're kicking my son out for being in love?!" Chantal screeched, "No way!"

"She's practically still a teenager!" Quinn retorted.

"She's an adult! And they made an adult decision. Although, I would've appreciated an invite."

"It was private, Mom. Just us at the courthouse."

"You got fucking eloped to him?!" Quinn growled at his sister. She sobbed harder, hiding her face in her mom's shoulder.

"I think it's best if we all leave," Keith sighed, patting Jim on the back.

"No! Matty," Freya cried, but Ellen pulled her back.

"Shh, love. It's okay," she cooed, running a hand through Freya's hair.

Matthew nodded solemnly. And just like that the Tkachuks were gone.

"Freya, why did you think it was a good idea to get eloped?" Jim asked, sitting across from his daughter at the table.

"I- I love him. We just... it felt right."

"We... we just would've liked to know, Frey. That's a big decision to make."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. We were just happy living in our own little world. We were going to tell everyone later."

"We're happy that you're happy, Freya. You just need to get your brothers to feel the same way. I'm sorry for kicking Matthew out, I just didn't want the boys to fight anymore. And it is Quinn's house," Jim sighed.

"Thanks, Dad. It's okay. I'm sure Matt understands. I love you guys."

"We love you too, Freya," Ellen smiled, pulling her daughter in for a hug.

Freya knocked on Quinn's door, getting an exasperated "WHAT?!" in response.

"It's Frey. Can we talk?"

"I'm not sure I want to," Quinn replied.

"Come on, Quinn. Hear me out."

"Fine. Come in."

Freya sat on the edge of her brother's bed, him sitting next to her. The air in the room felt thick, and it made her anxiety even worse.

"I'm- Freya, I just want to understand what your thought process was when you decided to get married to a guy you've been with for a year."

"I'm in love. Don't people say love makes you do dumb things?"

"He's 26."

"I know. But I'm an adult too. It isn't illegal. And it's not like I married some random guy. You know Matt. You've known Matt forever."

"Doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Are you sure this wasn't a shotgun wedding?"

"I'm not pregnant! We're always safe when we-"

"I don't want to hear about your sex life. Especially your sex life with Matthew Tkachuk," Quinn groaned. "But I guess I'm relieved you aren't pregnant."

"Yeah, me too," she giggled.

"Look, I'll get over this, Frey. I just need time. I'm your big brother and I'll always love you, but... I don't know how to feel about this."

"But it has nothing to do with you, Quinn. It's my life. I decided to get married."

"Nothing to do with me? Freya, you're my little sister. And you kept this secret from the whole family. I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to be pissed! Especially when you married my best friend's older brother!"

"I- I'm sorry, Quinn. I'll give you the time. But please remember that I... I am an adult."

"I know, Freya. I know. I- I love you."

"Love you too, Quinn."

"Cracking Luke isn't going to be this easy. He's really upset," Quinn sighed.

Freya entered Luke's room, "Leave."

"Luke."

"No. Leave. I don't want to see you."

"Luke-"

"Leave, Freya! I don't want to talk to you! You betrayed my trust."

"I'm not leaving, Luke."

He sat up in his bed and if looks could kill, Freya would be dead.

"Fine. You want to hear what I have to say? I'm pissed. I am so fucking mad at you. You're my twin! You... you've always told me everything! And I tell you everything! Then I have to find out through a photo that you're not even just dating Matthew Tkachuk... you're married to the fucking guy! Would've been nice to know! Like I don't know... when you started TALKING TO HIM!"

"Luke-"

"No, Freya. I don't want to hear your side of things. Leave. NOW!"

Freya returned to her room with tears in her eyes, clicking on Matt's contact and holding her phone up to her ear.

"Hey, baby. Everything okay?"

"Mom and Dad are happy for us. Quinn said he'll get over it. I don't think Jack even cares. But Luke... Luke is really mad at me. I don't think he's been this mad since I broke his Sidney Crosby mini stick when we were kids."

"I- I can come get you, love. Go for a little drive."

"I want to go home, Matty."

"Home? Like Florida?"

"Yes," she sobbed.

"Okay... okay, baby. We can do that. I-"

"Come get me."

"Okay, yeah. I'm coming. I love you, Freya."

"I love you too, Matt."

A week later, Freya felt like she could finally breathe. Matt wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. He rocked them back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

"I love you."

"I love you too. You wanna get ready for bed? It's been a long couple of days."

She shook her head, spinning to wrap her arms around his neck.

"What do you want, Frey? Anything you want."

"You," she whispered, meeting their lips in a sweet kiss.

The next morning, Freya woke up to her phone ringing repeatedly.

"Hello?" she answered sleepily. Matthew groaned, rolling over and pulling her body closer to his.

"Hey, Frey! Luke's kind of miserable. D'you think you could talk to him?" Jack's voice broke through the speaker.

"Um... he said he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Who is it?" Matt mumbled.

"He's just being dumb! Frey, you're his best friend in the whole world. He's all mopey without you."

"Then he can apologize for yelling at me and then I'll think about it."

"Frey-"

"Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy my alone time with my husband."

"Ew-"

Freya hung up, placing her phone back on the nightstand. Matt sighed, throwing her leg over his hip. He buried his head in her neck, his breathing falling into a steady pattern as he fell back asleep. Freya couldn't sleep though, she just wanted Luke to accept that she was happy, why was it so hard for him?

Luke had typed the message to his sister out at least 15 times, but he couldn't find the words to describe how he was feeling. Quinn and Jack, with the help of their parents, had talked some sense into him. He understood that he had the right to be upset with Freya, but he had taken it too far. Now, he just needed his apology to seem sincere and heartfelt.

"Just tell her exactly how you feel," Jack shrugged.

"Ew, you're making it sound like I'm confessing my feelings to a girl."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Luke. Just text our fucking sister."

Hey, Freya. I know I shouldv'e done this sooner, but the way I reacted to the news of you and Matt was immature and unfair to you. You were already feeling so much stress and I just added to that. I have the right to be a little upset, but you're right... you don't have to tell me everything. I love you, Frey. Text me when you see this

When Freya saw that text, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. Rolling over and pressing kisses all over Matthew's exposed skin.

"Hm," he groaned, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Luke apologized! Everyone is happy for us!"

"That's good. Now sleep. You look exhausted, babe."

"I can't sleep now! Everything is the way I always wanted it to be!"

"Mmm, yeah. That's awesome, Frey."

"Matty! This is the best!"

He laughed, watching sleepily as she straddled his waist. He placed his hands on her hips, running his thumbs over the smooth skin.

"I'm happy that you're happy, baby."

"I'm so happy! Almost as happy as when we got married," she smirked.

"Nothing can top that."

And with that Freya leaned forward and connected their lips. Morning breath or not this was the man she loved, and now she could share him with the world.

[luca-fantilli]

reunited

author's note: just a little drabble to make up for my absence. this takes place in the nothing happened in the way i wanted verse about six months after reader and matt get back together (aka stanley cup finals).

summary: you told matt you couldn't make it to the stanley cup finals...and yet here you are

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: cursing? pda?

you heard the disappointment in matt’s voice when you told him you couldn't make it to his playoff games. you'd managed to come to a game vs. the rangers, but when the panthers made it to the finals, it was clear that your schedule might not even allow you a week off. but when you looked at the calendar and saw you had an opening before you summer internship, you immediately booked a flight to miami.

everything was set.

until two days before game seven, the flight was canceled.

“matt, i’m so sorry—”

“baby, it’s fine. you can’t control it.”

“i’m trying to look for flights but they're all full.” you could hear the way he tried to stifle his sigh. but you knew him like the back of your hand, you knew how much this meant to him, how close he came last year. and you wanted to be there. you knew he wanted you to be there.

which is why you took your airplane refund (and a little out of savings) and starting looking at rental cars.

in hindsight, making an eighteen hour trip alone was not the smartest decision you ever made, and it surely wasn't a choice matt would approve of if he knew about it. but maybe he'd be so caught up in the post game that he wouldn't ask how you got there.

when you got into the city, taryn was the one who met you at their hotel. she smiled and gave you a tight hug.

“how was the drive? not too bad i hope?”

you gave her a sheepish smile. “i might need another five hour energy.”

she bumped her shoulder with yours. “i’m sure the game will be hyped enough to wake you up.”

“thank you for waiting for me.”

taryn’s laugh was immediately swallowed up by the sounds of traffic, but you felt it just the same. “matt would kill us if we left you to walk to the arena alone.”

“he doesn't know i’m here, does he?”

she shook her head. “we haven’t said a word. but please believe he's done nothing but mope about it.”

you rolled your eyes. “he doesn’t have time to mope, not when winning the cup is so close.”

and it was.

you couldn't remember a time where you'd screamed as loud as you had. your blood was pumping, heart pounding, you were torn between squeezing your eyes shut from anxiety and keeping them focused on the game. maybe after the game, you'd apologize to taryn for holding her arm so tightly, but she was squeezing yours back just as hard.

you watched as they kept the puck in the corner as the clock ran down. the nail polish you'd painted on your fingernails were in fragmented chips on the floor. your eyes kept darting from the jumbotron to the ice, back and forth back and forth.

but the buzzer went off and your boyfriend hopped onto the ice with his teammates. taryn was pulling you into a threeway hug with brady. before you knew it, you were being shuffled out of your seats, down the stairs, and onto the ice.

you were operating on autopilot, sticking close to taryn and brady. you were in the back, behind his parents and siblings, not really focusing on where you were going, only knowing that taryn’s grip was on your wrist.

people bumped into you, cameras were everywhere, yet your gaze was solely on taryn’s red leather jacket. maybe you should've dressed differently, worn something fancier instead of a jersey and jeans. it was game 7 and your boyfriend just won the stanley cup and you probably looked exhausted and there were going to be pictures that would probably live on the wall of matt’s childhood home for the rest of time.

taryn and brady stopped walking which could only mean that they'd found matt. if you could see over brady´s broad shoulders, you might have been able to see the embrace matt gave his mom, then the massive hug he gave his father. you couldn't hear what was being said, but you a glimpse of a red sleeve hug taryn before brady was next.

matt’s arms went around brady’s shoulders, his head peeking over, when the two of you made eye contact for the first time in weeks. his blue eyes widened in shock before he physically shoved brady off of him and out of the way.

“no way!” matt said over the noise before you were being yanked into his arms, lips pressed against his. it was clumsy and mostly teeth, but who could blame either of you? he’d just won the stanley cup.

you pulled away first with matt still chasing your lips until you placed a hand on his chest. “congrats, baby.”

“what're you doing here? i thought you said you couldn't make it! how’d you even get here?”

you smiled sheepishly. “i drove.”

matt’s smile dropped for a moment as he rolled his eyes. he placed a kiss on your forehead and brought you into your chest. “you're an idiot, but i love you.”

“i love you, stanley cup champion.”

he preened for a moment until he realized you'd successfully navigated the conversation back from yourself. “don’t think we won't talk about that later, baby.”

as the celebrations continued, regardless of who came up to him, matt’s hands never left your body. maybe it was the high of winning or maybe it was because you hadn't seen him since game five against the rangers but he wouldn't let you out of his sight. you tried to sneak away to stand with his family while he was being interviewed, but he never let you get far enough. at one point, you were standing just far enough to be out of shot of the camera, but close enough to where he was somewhat paying attention to the reporter interviewing him. 

“you sure you don't wanna come with me?” he asked after the last interview.

“matt, i promise she does not wanna go into a locker room with you and your sweaty teammates,” taryn chirped. “i’m sure you can survive without seeing her for a little bit.”

he didn’t look convinced.

“whenever you're finished, i’ll be ready to do whatever you want. i’m here for a week.”

his eyes lit up right before he kissed you again. “fuck yes.”

you laughed and pushed him away. “go celebrate with your teammates, we’ll be ready when you are.”

he glanced over his shoulder at his teammates and then back at you. “i love you.” he started moving backwards but kept his eyes trained solely on you, not a care in the world as to who he was bumping into. “and don't think i’m not gonna say something about you driving eighteen and a half hours.”

he knew the time it took?

“how’d you know how long i drove?”

a familiar smirk graced his lips. “baby, i always know how far you are from me.”

“you’re both sickening,” taryn joked as matt disappeared down the tunnel.

“maybe, but i love him.”

[luca-fantilli]

hii 💌 with macklin celebrini and his celebrity crush! reader ?? teehee 🤭🤭

macklin celebrini x hughes!sister

summary: when a video on the bu hockey instagram blows up, you finally match the name to the most perfect face.

fia's notes: i love mack so much. he's my fave bu boy 💌 also! happy valentine's day! 💌⭐️🍓 OH! and i made this a hughes!sister because...i wanted to... enjoy!!! <3333

Who is your celebrity crush? the whiteboard read as the boys piled off the ice and down the hall towards the locker room. Monday questions were the guys’ favorite or least favorite day depending on which guy you were asking. 

Case bounded off the ice, catching the question in the corner of his eye. “Mm, Margot Robbie. One hundred percent,” he pointed at the camera, winking. 

Lane Hutson was next as he stumbled down the hall, smiling once he saw the board. He hummed, standing in front of the question as he thought deeply about his answer. “Can I have multiple answers? Yes? Okay, um, I like Meghan Fox sometimes, Alex Morgan is pretty cool, Livvy Dunne definitely, Taylor Swift is a favorite, maybe Ariana Grande but she’s been iffy lately—”

Pushing him off camera, Doug laughed as he read the board. “Jesus, Lane. How many crushes do you have?”

“Hey! There’s a lot of beautiful women out there,” he smiled at the camera as Doug made a gagging noise in the background.

“Aiden!” Doug called for the boy as Aiden laid his stick on the wall and threw his hands to his hips. 

“Huh?” he replied.

“Celebrity crush, go.”

Aiden chuckled before shaking his head and pointing to Macklin who was trailing behind him, oblivious to the question. “Why don't we ask Mack over here,” he beamed, grabbing his brother’s shoulders and throwing him in front of the camera. “Macky definitely has someone in mind, don’t you Mack?”

Macklin would have punched his brother square in the face if he hadn’t been standing directly in front of the camera. A light tinge of pink dusted the boy’s features as Aiden teased him for his sudden shyness.

“C’mon Mack, maybe she’ll see it!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Macklin laughed awkwardly as he raked his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t say it, somebody else will.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he pointed as Aiden grinned at the camera.

“Macky’s in love with Y/N Hughes!” he shouted before Macklin shoved him off camera, the video cutting off as you gaped at your screen. 

The video was being sent to you by everyone you knew and every single person you didn’t know, too.  Your entire feed was flooded with the boy’s reddened cheeks and awkward smile. The first few times of watching it, you felt bad that the boy was getting blasted on social media for liking you, but after a couple more rounds of watching, you went down a Macklin Celebrini rabbit hole. Your search engine was consumed with his interviews and game highlights. You researched his stats, age, birthplace, which school he was currently attending, everything. 

And it didn’t hurt that he was hot and your age. I mean, you weren’t new to the hockey scene being that you grew up in a house full of stars: your dad was an assistant coach for the Boston Bruins, your mom played for the US National Team at the Women’s World Championship, your brother was the captain of the Canucks, and your remaining brothers were playing on the same team in the NHL, breaking records and setting new ones. Your entire life was hockey even though you had nothing to do with the sport in the slightest. No, you were more of a figure skater—an Olympic gold figure skater, to be exact. You were on the ice in a different, less violent way. But you still supported your family and all of their endeavors, and gratefully, they supported yours, too.

So Macklin wasn’t a total stranger. You had heard talks of the projected #1 first pick at the 2024 NHL draft, but you never cared enough to match the face to the name. It’s funny that this is how you found out—sitting on your living room couch surrounded by your protective older brothers who knew his stats like the back of their hand. And they all held a bit of resentment for him.

“He was on Team Canada,” Jack scoffed. “You should not be associating with him.”

“So was Mercer!” you retorted. “And he’s still one of your best friends!”

“He’s also my teammate, Y/N/N. I can’t really not like the guy.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to the oldest who sat on the other side of you. “Quinny?”

He shrugged. “He’s a good kid, good stats, from Vancouver so you already know he’s a Canucks fan,” he smirked. “Let it go, Jack.”

Jack turned towards Luke who sat on the coffee table directly in front of you as he held your laptop on his lap, rewatching the video. “Luke? Thoughts?”

Luke looked up, watching as the three of them stared right back at him. “He’s in college, so at least you know he’s getting an education.”

Jack chuckled. “You were in college and you still have the brain of a monkey.”

Luke stood up, throwing the laptop on the couch as you and Quinn gave each other knowing looks. “And if you went to college, you would know that monkeys are actually really smart!”

You rolled your eyes, huffing as they burned glares into each other’s souls. “Can you guys just shut up!” you shouted. “I’m going to DM him and then I am going to never ask for your guys’ opinions ever again,” you smiled, standing up from the couch and walking towards your bedroom.

“I still don’t like him!” Jack yelled from the living room.

You groaned, not even making a move to turn around and talk to him. You simply shouted from the stairs, “I don’t care!” 

You started a conversation with "Macklin Celebrini"!

You: Hii!

Macklin: You saw it, didn’t you?

You: What gave it away?

Macklin: The fact that you probably didn’t know I existed until that video came out.

You: Okayy, true. BUT I enjoyed it!

Macklin: Which part? The part where I was trying not to kill my brother, or the part that became a meme of my face getting so red everyone put tomatoes all over my Instagram comments?

You: Both? To be fair, I thought your blushing was cute.

Macklin: You’re kidding.

You: Not in the slightest. :) So, when are you in Michigan next? Heard there was this super fun lake house there in the summer.

Macklin: I can’t believe this is happening.

You: You would think you would be a bit more enthusiastic.

Macklin: Believe me, my face is crazier than in the video right now, and that’s saying something.

You: I believe it. And actually, that’s just all of my burner accounts commenting on your post.

Macklin: Knew something was suspicious.

You: Oh, definitely. Also…

Macklin: Bad news? I knew this was going too well.

You: No. Just thank your brother for me.

Macklin: For what?

You: For leading me to you.

Macklin: Oh, God, I’ve gone full-on tomato.

You: 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅!

Macklin: IT WAS YOU

[luca-fantilli]

Bella after that pic of Ethan and mark got taken: "mark estapa give  me my boyfriend back!!!"

mark: "he was mine first!"

Bella: "you really don't wanna go down that road with me estapa."

Ethan: "guys I'm right here, there's no need to fight over me."

mark and Bella: "SHUT UP ETHAN!"

the pic in reference:

[luca-fantilli]

Hot Chocolate and Ice Skates-Adam fantilli

Adam fantilli x reader

The cold winter air had settled in around the small town where Adam Fantilli had grown up. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, dusting the trees and the quiet streets. Inside his childhood home, the warmth from the fireplace cast a soft glow over everything. Adam and his girlfriend Y/N had spent the afternoon in the kitchen, the comforting smell of hot chocolate filling the air.

"Okay, do you think we've got the perfect ratio of cocoa to milk this time?" Adam asked, stirring the mixture in a pot, glancing over at Y/N with a playful grin.

Y/N smiled back, her hands resting on the counter. "I think it’s perfect, but I’m not sure we can top last time’s marshmallow disaster," she teased, remembering their last attempt where they had accidentally overfilled the mug with marshmallows until they were spilling over the sides.

"That was *your* fault," Adam shot back, his eyes twinkling. "But I think we’ve got it this time. No marshmallow avalanches."

She laughed, grabbing the cinnamon from the shelf and dusting a little over their mugs. "We'll see. But if you ruin this batch, you know you'll have to make up for it somehow."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "How do you propose I do that?"

Y/N's face softened with a mischievous glint. "Well, you could take me ice skating on the lake by your house again. I haven’t fallen in a while, so I think I’m ready to challenge you."

"Alright, challenge accepted." Adam winked as he poured the hot chocolate into the mugs, carefully adding whipped cream on top and a few more marshmallows for good measure. "Let’s see if you can keep up."

He handed her a mug, and she took it with a grin, feeling the warmth seep through the ceramic into her hands. They both grabbed their jackets and scarves, ready for the next part of their cozy winter day.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the snow-covered ground. Adam led Y/N down the familiar path to the lake behind his childhood home, the snow crunching underfoot as they walked. The lake was frozen solid, the ice a smooth, shimmering sheet stretching out in every direction. A few distant figures were skating, but for the most part, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the quiet of the evening.

“Ready?” Adam asked, already crouching down beside the skates he had laid out earlier.

Y/N nodded, smiling shyly as she sat down on the bench Adam had brought over, a remnant from when he used to skate here as a kid.

“I’m ready,” she said, pulling her boots off and slipping her feet into the cold, stiff skates. She looked at Adam, who was now crouched in front of her, a gentle expression on his face as he began to tie her skates.

“You’ve got to make sure they’re tight enough,” Adam said softly, his fingers expertly looping the laces. His focus was entirely on her, and the quiet of the moment wrapped them in its own bubble, separate from everything else.

Y/N felt her heart flutter slightly, watching him as he worked. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his fingers moved with practiced ease—it was all so familiar, yet it never lost its charm. She felt so incredibly lucky.

"Thanks, Adam," she said quietly, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks.

He looked up at her, his smile warm and genuine. "Anything for you."

Once her skates were tied, Adam stood, offering his hand to help her up. Y/N took it, and he guided her to the edge of the lake, where the ice was smooth and untouched. She was a little wobbly at first, unsure of her balance, but Adam kept close, holding onto her hand and guiding her in the right direction.

“You’re doing great,” he encouraged. “Just take it slow. I won’t let you fall.”

Y/N laughed. "I appreciate that. But I *will* fall, you know."

“Only if I let you,” Adam teased, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

They skated in quiet companionship, gliding slowly across the ice under the fading light of dusk. The cold air made their cheeks rosy and their breaths visible in the air, but it felt so perfect, so right. Adam gently nudged her, and she found herself laughing, the sound mingling with the quiet of the winter evening.

“Careful,” she warned, trying to keep her balance, but her grin betrayed her playful tone.

“I’m always careful,” Adam said, but his voice had that teasing edge again, and before she knew it, he had spun her in a circle, her feet barely keeping up with the sudden movement.

“Adam!” she exclaimed, laughing, as she tried to regain her balance.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” he replied with a grin, though he kept a steady hand on her arm to keep her steady.

The two of them skated in a circle for a while, Adam taking the lead but always keeping a careful eye on her. It felt like a dream—just the two of them, surrounded by snow and ice and the fading light of the day.

Finally, they stopped at the center of the lake, breathing hard, but happy. Adam took her hands in his, his face glowing with the same warmth she had seen earlier as they made hot chocolate together.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he said quietly, looking at her with soft eyes. “It’s perfect.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hands. “It is. But next time, *you* have to try not to spin me so much. I’m still dizzy.”

Adam chuckled. “Deal. But only if you promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’ll let me make you hot chocolate every time we come here,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice sincere but playful.

Y/N laughed, nodding. “You’ve got a deal.”

With that, they shared a soft, contented kiss, the world around them still and silent, as if the universe itself was giving them space to enjoy this perfect winter moment.

[luca-fantilli]

"drunk drunk drunk in love" - lh43xreader

summary: in which luke is drunk and you're both in love.

a/n: HI! this is a repost of my old fic, i haven't stolen it anywhere hehe

warnings: none, this is a lil fluffy.

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In your limited lifetime, you've never minded being home alone. 

More often than not, your own company is more than enough and there's nothing you enjoy more than autonomous control over the remote. Tonight was exactly one of those nights too, you’d lit a few scented candles - a comforting scent of vanilla filling your apartment-, ordered in your comfort food - that definitely does not meet a nutritionist’s goals - and put on your favourite cheesy romcom that Luke, your boyfriend, usually claims to hate. 

However, when a loud bang sounds against your front door, no doubt the aftermath of a heavy person bumping into it, you can’t help but wish he was there with you. 

On shaky legs, you rise from your position on the couch, moving aside your knitted blanket and gently placing your glass of Dr Pepper on the coffee table, before slowly inching closer to the door and the burglary-sounding noises coming from behind it. 

On a last-second whim, you grab the metal bat - a gift from your brother that he insists you’ve got resting by the coats- and raise it to face height, your grip tight around the handle, the cool metal biting into the skin of your palm. 

And then, just as you’re ready to defend your apartment as was it a castle filled with treasures, you hear the unmistakable sound of keys scratching against the lock, not quite finding the opening. What a strange thing, for a robber to have a set of keys, your tired mind says before it catches up. 

A peek through the peephole confirms your suspicions, because on the other side stands your boyfriend, his tall stature only letting you see the centre of his chest through the small hole, the Nike logo on his hoodie taking up most of the space. 

Returning the bat to its rightful place, a giggle escapes you at the sound of Luke’s struggles. He must be a little drunker than he originally planned when he told you over the phone he was going out with some of the guys to not-quite-celebrate the season being over. 

He’d left with an I won’t be back too late and a reminder of his love for you, neither of which you doubted. It was only eleven, but when you start at four that fact doesn’t spare you from rowdy teammates offering to buy you another round. 

“Shit,” Luke mumbles, voice muffled by the thick wooden door, as he, presumably, drops his keys (if the jingle of them sounding close to the floor is any indication), his head hitting the door with a small thud. That’s when you decide to take pity on him, making quick work of undoing the multiple locks and gold chain, before slowly opening the door to not have him fall. 

As more and more of him is revealed to you, the tiny people pulling at your heartstrings work harder and harder. Luke looks overwhelmingly adorable (or maybe that’s just your love for him talking), curls all over the place, no doubt from running his hand through it repeatedly, hoodie a little wrinkled and a tired pout resting on his lovely face. 

It takes him a second to realise what's happening, but then he notices his body falling forward and with hurried, clumsy movements tries to catch himself. Instead, he ends up tripping over your New Jersey Devils-themed welcome mat, sending him barreling straight into your less-than-steady figure. Somehow, you manage to stay upright, wrapping your arms around his middle to try and help him do the same.

“Sorry ‘bout that- BABY!” He exclaims once he’s managed to get a hold of himself, a megawatt smile completely transforming his face as he notices it’s not just some random person, but you. “Watcha doing here?!” 

“I live here, Gorgeous,” you giggle while petting his hair, trying to untangle just some of the knots that have formed and let him wrap you in an air-stealing embrace. You receive no verbal confirmation, only a hmm sounded into your shoulder followed by a press of his lips to your uncovered skin and then, “I missed you soooo sosososo much.” 

The tiny people are at it again and maybe they should receive a raise for all the hard work they’re doing tonight. Heat rushes to your cheeks before it spreads to your entire body. There is not a single doubt in your mind or your heart that he means his words, not even when he’s drunk. All night he has been sending you little updates, random pictures and thoughts that he just couldn’t wait to tell you. It’s like this with him every time the two of you were apart, too. Even if it’s just the time it takes him to go to the bathroom. 

“I missed you too. Wanna get ready for bed?” You ask, squeezing him back and trying to manoeuvre the door closed with your foot. “You have to let me go then,” you continue and finally get it shut.

A pout takes over his face once more, less than impressed with your words and the thought of having to not cling onto you, before ultimately complying and giving you a mock salute.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

At his antics, you playfully roll your eyes, loving the way he lights up at your amusement, and tell him to head to the bathroom. You trail behind him, making sure the front door is locked, the living room lights are off and your candles are blown out.

Usually, this routine is sort of the same when either of you comes home tipsy. There’s something so comforting and familiar about it, domestic almost, you realise as you walk into the bathroom and see him sitting on the closed toilet lid, waiting for you. 

Soft eyes follow your every movement as you walk closer. As you prepare his toothbrush and hand it to him, he succumbs to his urges and leans the side of his face against your stomach.

“Fun night?”

“Curtis went on a bull,” he says as if the fact that Curtis Lazar rode a mechanic bull (you hope, at least) sums up the entire night and that it is a synonym for fun. You take it as that, though, happy for him that he got to unwind a little after his rough season. The past seven months you’ve seen him work harder than ever before, and while you’re incredibly proud of him and know that he always enjoys his work so much, you can’t help but feel a little relieved that he gets to relax and recharge for next season.

As you stand there side by side and brush your teeth, the perfect picture of domesticity, you can’t help but wish that this was an every-night-thing. That you lived together and came home to each other and did stupid little things like brushing your teeth together all the time. But those thoughts are for another time, and voicing them certainly is too, considering the still more-than-tipsy state your boyfriend finds himself in. 

A tug to the end of your hair is the thing that snaps the band, finally bringing you completely out of your thoughts, your attention once more wholly on your boyfriend. Just as he likes it the most. You’d lie if you said you don’t share the same sentiment.

“I like when your hair does the swoopy thing.” Luke’s mouth is full of toothpaste, some of it gathering in the corner of his mouth, and he’s talking around his toothbrush, making it a little hard to actually figure out what he’s saying to you.

“The what?”

Your brows are furrowed in confusion as he rises to spit out the toothpaste and rinse his mouth, you following after him and doing the same. The lack of contact between the two of you quickly seems to bug him though, and it’s not long before he’s got his arms wrapped around you again, standing behind you as you prepare your skincare routine. Warm fingers sneak under your shirt, caressing your stomach in soothing circles.

“The swoopy thing. Like when it curls in the ends,” the duh is evident, but he’s smiling as he’s staring into your eyes through the mirror. He blinks slowly as you hold eye contact, the amount of time his eyes remain closed growing longer and longer. When he finally manages to keep them open, both are a little droopy and somehow it just makes you adore him even more.

“Um- a blowout?”

“I don’t know the technical term” he rolls his eyes but the smile stays on his face. You’re left wondering why he’s fixating on it now when he’s drunk and your hair has been looking like this since you came back from the salon yesterday morning. 

“It looks pretty.”

Oh.

“You look pretty.”

Double oh.

“You always are pretty.”

Not quite sure what to say, his affection is clouding way too many of your senses, you turn around to press a quick kiss to his neck, then hurriedly finish your routine. 

“Come on, bed.”

Like the sweetest puppy, Luke follows you closely into your bedroom, feet so close to yours he keeps hitting your ankles and were it anyone else you would be annoyed and huff and puff but it’s Luke. Your Luke, the love of your life and the most annoying guy all wrapped up in one pretty fair-skinned package with curls on top. Except, nothing he ever does truly annoys you, giving your friends way too much ammunition to pull the you're a simp card. At this point, you simply choose to accept it, though. 

Soft carpet hits your toes as you reach the bed where you try to dispose of him by his unspoken designated side and watch as he’s about to let himself fall back onto the bed. Every intention of moving to your side flying out the window as he grabs a hold of your shirt, pulling your body with him in the fall. 

In an unfortunate turn of events, most likely brought on by Luke’s lack of coordination skills in his inebriated state and you helpless against his grip, your heads clash together as you hit the bed, both of you groaning out in pain at the dull sting on your respective foreheads. 

“Ouchie,” Luke says, brows furrowing in confusion and wondering how he got himself into this predicament.

“Ouchie?” You ask, a giggle threatening to spill from your lips despite the throbbing in your head. Guess the alcohol won't be the only thing making Luke’s head hurt in the morning.

“Ouchie.” He confirms with a serious nod of his head. Quicker than lightning, a flash of panic strikes his face. You can see the switch into protective boyfriend mode as it happens, his face going solemn and hands reaching out to cradle your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks, suddenly sounding a lot more sober than mere seconds ago. 

“‘M fine,” you confirm, a slight lie, but what he doesn’t know won't hurt him. Rolling off him, you peck his lips before crawling up the bed and under the covers. With un-bashful eyes, you watch him get undressed down to his boxers, secretly impressed with how he manages to manage such a feat without toppling over. 

You’re prepared for him pulling you closer when he climbs back into bed, wasting no time settling against his warm chest, the comfort of his arms draping around you surrounding you like a well-known blanket. 

The bedroom goes dark as Luke turns off his bedside lamp, the moonlight the only luminous thing left, casting long shadows into the room. 

“Can you put on the asmr from the other day,” Luke breaks the silence with a whisper while brushing his nose against the side of your hair. Humming in agreement, you find the YouTube video you played for him a few days ago, something you usually do when you can’t sleep.

“I couldn’t fall asleep the other day when you weren’t at Jacky and I’s apartment and I tried to find it but I couldn’t and the others weren’t the same and they didn’t remind me of you,” your boyfriend trails off, his rambled words slurring a little, sleepiness no doubt taking over his body. 

“You’re so cute.” The words come out on accident, a little too lovestruck. Only the inner walls of your head were meant to hear them, but nevertheless, they’re true. Luke snorts against your neck in amusement, having migrated further down to nestle his face into it, but he doesn’t tease you. Instead, he just pulls you infinitely closer and whispers something about how much he loves you.

Sleep comes quickly for Luke, his soft snores soon filling the room and his chest, the very same protecting the heart you love so dearly, rises and falls steadily in a dance with your own. You fall asleep with a smile, a pounding heart, and a head to match.

[luca-fantilli]

blurb: nap nap naps - lh43xreader

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luke and his gf would be found napping every where. she is napping on the boat like just flops onto her and falls asleep, they find any place and just sleep

no because we all know this boy is a napper at heart, and i feel like the longer you're with him the more this rubs off on you (if you're not a napper in the first place, that is)

boat days are a no brainer, after a few hours in the sun and on the lake you'd both be tired, so when luke finds you comfortably positioned on the leather seats of the boat, he can't help himself but to dump down on top of you and use your boobs as his personal pillow, bringing your hands up to card through his hair.

the boat isn't the only place the two of you find rest, though, and throughout the summer you and luke can be found in the most peculiar of places. it isn't uncommon for some of the other inhabitants of the lakehouse to find the two of you fast asleep in various lawn chairs, one of the many hammocks scattered throughout the garden, couches, sun chairs and whatnot. and then there are the weirder spots, like when you were tanning on a blanket on the dock and luke decided he just couldn't wait for a bed or something a little more comfortable to fall asleep half on top of you, the small waves on the lake lulling you both to sleep in no time.

or the time luke came home from off-season practice, completely beat and just flopped down on the floor in the living room, not having the energy to move and completely content with the decision of staying put when you laid down next to him, placed your head on his chest and stayed put for a good solid nap.

[luca-fantilli]

When You're Ready

~When You're Ready by Shawn Mendes~

Author's Note: requested! not entirely proud of how this turned out but enjoy! italics are flashbacks as always Summary: Luke drunkenly confesses his feelings for his friend. Warnings: ermmmm idk Word Count: 4,275

Luke was drunk, probably the most drunk he’s been since the frat parties back at UMich. He was leaning against the bar, not sleepy but was definitely feeling dizzy. He was only allowed water because Jack was getting protective over him. 

Jack leaned against the wall, in the corner of the bar beside Luke. His phone was against his ear as he was listening to it ring and ring. 

“Jack?” Y/N let out sleepily.

“Hey! Luke is shitfaced right now, I would offer to take care of him but-” Jack paused as a giggle fell from his lips, “I’m also pretty fucking shitfaced and waiting for my girlfriend,” he explained. 

“Is that Y/N? Can I talk to her!” Luke shot up, a wide grin on his lips. Jack nodded, but kept the phone against his own ear. Luke whined as he reached his hand over. 

“I guess he can stay in my guest room. Just give me like twenty minutes,” she mumbled before she hung up the phone. Jack’s lips curled up into a grin as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Luke lifted up the glass of water and drank a long sip before he cautiously placed it back down onto the counter. “Y/N is taking you back to her place,” Jack offered as he brought his beer towards his lips.

“Aw man, I missed her. We’ve been traveling so much,” Luke offered as he shook his head slowly. His head moved delayed to either direction. 

“Are you going to tell her?” Jack drunkenly let out while he patted his hand against Luke’s back.

“Will not,” he said simply. 

“C’mon!” Jack pleaded as he continued to hit his hand against Luke’s back. “S-see I knew she li-liked you because she’s coming here at-” he trailed off searching for a clock, “What ever time it is.”

“Don’t want to talk about it, let me drink more booze,”

“No, Lukey you’re cut off,” Jack demanded.

“Me? You’re the one sl-slurring your words!” Luke said, pausing he realized he slurred too. The brothers began giggling.

Jack gasped as he scooted back away from the bartop. He smiled widely as he walked quickly towards his girlfriend entering the bar. “My girlfriend!” he let out happily as he shoved passed many drunk people. She giggled loudly as Jack happily wrapped his arms around her pulling her tightly towards him. “Come on, let’s go,” Jack muttered.

“Let’s wait for Y/N to get Luke,” she mumbled as she met his gaze. Jack groaned as he wandered towards Luke. 

Luke lifted his gaze, clenching his jaw as he smiled towards the pair. “He’s pretty drunk,” Luke observed. She rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bar. Jack rested his hand onto her lower back.

“I figured, thanks Luke,” she let out while laughing. 

Y/N was convinced that this party was going to actually ruin her whole mood. She was not a fan of giant crowds, especially a huge crowd of people whom she barely even knew. 

But Courtney was so sure that she would have fun, despite Courtney knowing everyone there. Well she’s only met a handful of the people at the party a few times but her boyfriend knew everyone. Which meant Courtney knew everyone. She never told Y/N who her new mystery man was. Even though the pair had been going on for months at this point. 

Courtney needed it to be secret, so secret that she would never tell anyone. Courtney and Y/N sat in the back seat of the car as they headed towards her boyfriend’s apartment. 

“So we’re going to his place and then the night club? Can’t we meet there?” Y/N groaned as she leaned her head against the headrest. It was safe to say, she was already tipsy and not in the mood for extra work. 

“You have to meet him,” she argued. 

The Uber pulled off to the side of the road, in front of a building that was definitely out of either of their price range. They stepped out of the Uber and Courtney began walking towards the building like it wasn’t her first time. Y/N stayed put as her eyes scanned the building.

“You forgot to mention he was rich,” Y/N mumbled as her gaze finally landed on Courtney.

“He’s not rich, he has money there is a different,” she explained while wrapping her arm around Y/N’s before she guided them towards the entrance.

“I feel like you just said the same thing,” Y/N mumbled while laughing. Courtney rolled her eyes as they stepped inside of the building. 

The walls were dark blue, with white tile on the floor. There was white curtains from the ceiling to the floor. The dark blue couches look like they’ve never been sat on but they were giant.

“Courtney, you can head straight up,” the doorman said excitedly. 

“Thank you, Danny,” she let out happily as she pressed the up button towards the elevator. 

Y/N leaned towards her, “How often are you here?” she whispered.

“Often,” she mumbled. 

The elevator ride was fast as they were only heading up a handful of floors. The fifth floor was the same decor as the lobby but less extravagant. The walk to the apartment was fast as it was only three doors down. She knocked four times. 

After a few seconds, the door was swung open and to Y/N’s surprise it was John Marino. “This is John?” Y/N let out quietly.

The music poured into the hallway. The music was not usual party music but it was loud and music she usually enjoys.

“Hey baby,” John let out as he reached towards Courtney, he wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her towards him, he smiled towards Y/N, “Y/N, it’s great to finally meet you,” John said as he motioned for her to step inside. Slowly, she walked inside beside John and Courtney. 

“Nice to-uh meet you too,” she let out shyly. Her eyes started to scan the room noticing two more Devils players sitting around the room. One with a gorgeous blonde girl in his lap and the other was sitting on a couch by himself. She wished she was not fan girling while in the room but she was. 

Luke Hughes looked up, meeting her gaze. She felt her heart jump in her chest as she met his gaze. His cheeks pinked up but he quickly shifted his gaze down towards his phone. 

Courtney slipped away from John’s grasp and walked back towards Y/N. She wrapped her arm around Y/N’s. “You should’ve brought up the whole Devils player thing,” she whispered, her gaze shifting around the room.

Luke’s eyes widened as a grin formed to his lips. He saw Y/N enter the bar. Jack’s girlfriend wandered towards her, leaving the boys to themselves.

“How bad is it?” Y/N asked teasingly. 

“They’re trashed,” she said simply. Y/N tossed her head back while laughing. 

“Alright, I’ll go take care of Luke,” Y/N let out, a smile on her lips. Jack’s girlfriend’s eyebrows raised as she held a smirk on her lips. “Oh shush,” she muttered as she pushed through the crowd to reach Luke. He was resting his head on his hands, his eyes starting to shut.

A sleepy smirk formed to his lips as his eyes were open slightly. “Y/N, you came!” he let out excitedly. “I’ve missed you,” he let out. She rolled her eyes as she stood in front of him. Resting her hand onto the bartop, she tilted her head to the side to try and meet his gaze. 

Jack and his girlfriend had already slipped out of the bar, leaving Y/N and Luke alone. 

“And you’re in your pajamas,” he observed, his sleepy gaze scanned her frame. Her body was covered with an old thin long sleeve top with a pair of sweatpants. She took a hold of his arm, helping him stand. He leaned against her, using her to help him walk.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” she mumbled as they continued through the bar, shoving through people to go to the entrance.

It was a quick and easy exit out of the bar, her car was parked directly on the street. Luke was still using her to help guide him as he walked. “You’re a great person, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Thank you, Luke,” she mumbled while laughing. Slowly pulling away from him, he stood on his own. Stepping back, she tilted her head to the side meeting his gaze. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he leaned his head back. His lips curled upward slightly as he admired her frame. “What?” she let out shyly.

“You look beautiful,” he mumbled. Y/N smiled softly, knowing the words leaving his lips were drunken thoughts. “I meant as a friend, you know like because fri-friends can say that stuff. Can th-they say stuff like that?” he ranted nervously.

“Friends can call each other beautiful,” Y/N said as she met his gaze. He smirked as he ran his tongue across his lips.

“Well then,” he muttered as he took a step towards her, “How come you never called me beautiful?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully as she pursed her lips forward, “You’re very beautiful, Luke,” she let out. His lips curled up into a toothy grin.

“Thank you,” he sing-songed. 

She met his gaze and watched the drunkenness take over in his eyes. With each blink it was evident he was getting more and more exhausted. She ran her fingers through her hair as she pointed towards the passenger seat door.

“You going to get in the car?” she asked him teasingly. He took a small step towards her. Biting his bottom lip, he was taking in a deep breath. “I mean I did practically carry you out of the bar,”

“You did not,” 

“I absolutely did, walk in a straight line right now,” she let out laughing. He straightened his body as he confidently walking towards the passenger seat of the car. 

His steps were definitely not in a straight line but as he leaned against the car door, he nodded proudly. 

“Wow, that was horrible,” she teased. 

Dropping his gaze to the concrete, he shook his head while chuckling. “Yeah, n-not my best work,” he said as he flung his head back up. He pulled on the door handle, opening the door. Smiling towards him she excitedly walked around towards the driver’s side of the car.

Y/N sat down on the couch beside Courtney. Her and John were not sitting close, almost on purpose to push her towards Luke. He lifted his gaze from his phone a handful of times to meet her gaze. Shyly, she avoided his eye as much as possible.

It started to feel like a set up. Everyone was in their own couple. It left Luke and Y/N to talk. Except they were not doing much talking.

Y/N was still freaking out that she was sat beside him and he was freaking out because if Jack and John were setting him up with someone, she could’ve been a little less hot. 

A little less intimidating because he couldn’t focus.

Or maybe it was because there was too much alcohol in his system, he couldn’t tell.

He knew he would get made fun of for the whole night if he didn’t speak to her but right now it was too intimate. 

“Okay, our Ubers are here,” Jack jumped up, keeping his hand loosely around his girlfriend’s waist. 

John did the same thing. Luke and Y/N stood up, sharing awkward glances. They both started walking towards the exit, side by side.

Reaching towards the door, he pulled it open, she smiled politely towards him. He slowly shut the door behind him and they continued down the hallway.

“Are we being set up?” she asked, pointing her finger between herself and him. Luke let out a nervous chuckle as he shoved his hands into his pocket.

“I wish I knew,” Luke rolled his eyes playfully, “With those two who knows.”

He pressed his lips together as he met her gaze for a few seconds. 

“I wish I knew my roommate was dating one of you guys, that would have been a nice heads up,” she explained.

“Wait, Court and John have been together for almost four months and you had no idea,” Luke questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded dramatically. “How did you not know, you guys live together?” he let out while laughing. 

She took a deep breath as she fought the smirk forming to her lips, “It just so happens that I grew up a huge Devils fan,” she mumbled. Luke’s eyes widened as he grinned. 

“Oh so you’ve been silently freaking out since you stepped into the door,” he teased.

“Have not,” she muttered crossing her arms over her chest.

“You want an autograph?” he teased. She shoved him away from her while laughing.

She happily sat down in the driver seat and quickly turned on her car. Heat blasted through the vents to warm the cold air inside of the car. Luke was watching her every move, his eyes dragged as he scanned her frame.

She stared towards her phone as she tried to find the perfect playlist. She played her own favorites mix before she rested it into an empty cup holder. Putting the car into drive, she pulled away from the bar. 

“You need my address?” he asked before swallowing hard. She glanced towards him, smirking slightly before she looked back towards the road. He pressed his lips together while shutting his eyes.

“I think I got it,” she let out laughing.

Furrowing his eyebrows harshly, he tilted his head back against the headrest, “I can’t believe you went to the bar in your pajamas,”

Her mouth fell open as she fought off the grin forming to her lips, ‘Clearly you’ve forgotten, I was asleep!”

“Right,” he muttered. He stared towards his hands as he took in long breaths. She pulled up to a red light, shifting her gaze towards him. 

“What’s on your mind?” she mumbled. He shrugged as he continued to stare down towards his lap, “Luke?” she asked again. 

It was a fast friendship. It seemed like out of no where they were inseparable. Ever since that night at the club, where they drunkenly danced together the whole night they’ve been inseparable. 

Tonight was no different, Luke was coming home from a game where they lost. He was not in a great mood but he knew that Y/N could make him feel better. Ever since he met her, he found himself gravitating towards her whenever he was in a bad mood. Whenever he was sad she made him feel better. 

He texted her that he was waiting outside of her apartment and she happily shot up from her couch. She walked towards the door pulling it open to reveal Luke. He was wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweats as he walked inside, holding his arms open.  She smiled towards him as he wrapped his arms around him. Sinking into his chest, she let the door shut behind him. 

“Is Courtney here?” he asked as he rested his hand onto the back of her head as he caressed her hair. Shaking her head, she slowly pulled away from him. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” 

“Always,” she mumbled as she met his gaze for a few seconds before she began to walk backwards towards her bedroom, “Let’s watch a movie,” 

His lips curled upward into a small smile as he followed after her, digging his hands deep into her pocket. He followed after her, his gaze trailing her frame as she guided him towards her bedroom.

She pushed the door open as she dropped down onto the bed. Luke stood in the doorway, admiring her from the small distance. 

“You can lay down y’know,” she teased as she patted the empty space beside her. 

He walked around the bed and cautiously laid down beside her.

“Any recommendations?” she offered as she met his gaze. He pouted his lips forward as he shook his head. He turned his body to the side, facing her. Looking down towards him, she turned her head to the side as she felt her lips curl upward. 

“Harry Potter?” he asked softly.

Furrowing her eyebrows she shifted her body towards him. They laid face to face, their noses nearly bumping one another with how close they are.

“You can’t just watch a Harry Potter movie, you have to watch them all,” she offered as she found her gaze lowering towards his lips.

“I don’t have plans tomorrow,” he offered teasingly. 

“You know, I think you’re beautiful in like a not a-a friend way,” Luke let out, he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. Her eyes widened slightly as she continued to look into his eye. “That’s obvious to you right?” Luke let out.

She took a deep breath as she watched the light turn green through the corner of her eye. She began to speed ahead with her heart beating faster and faster. “Luke, you know, I don’t have time for a relationship right now. With work and school, I barely have time for a social life-”

“I know, which is why I never said anything.” he let out, he swallowed hard as he shyly shifted his gaze down towards his lap. He took a deep breath, “I know I’m drunk or whatever but you’re literally everything I’ve ever wanted, you know that?”

She took a right turn into the parking garage beneath his apartment. “Luke,”

“I’m serious-”

“You won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow,” 

“When you’re ready or when you think you have time for one, I’m right ‘ere,” he explained as he lifted his gaze again. She pulled into a guest parking spot and quickly put the car into park. “I’ll always be waiting for you because you cannot tell me you don’t feel the same way. You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to kiss me,” 

“Luke-” 

“But if it’s forever that I have to wait for you, I’ll wait because you are worth waiting a lifetime for,” he further explained as he looked deeply into her eyes. She took a deep breath as she pressed her lips together.

“You don’t know what you’re saying right now,” she expressed as she turned her body to face him.

“I know exactly what I’m saying because I haven’t stopped thinking about it for months. I mean come on, Y/N, look me in the eye and tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind,” 

“You know I can’t,” she mumbled. 

“So whenever you’re ready, I’m waiting,” he said as he leaned his head against the window.

“Let’s get you up to bed and then when you’re sober let’s have this conversation,” she explained as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door harshly. Luke unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. 

He stumbled out of the car, nearly falling over. “See-” she barked out a laugh, “How am I supposed to take you seriously when you are this drunk!” she took a hold of his arm, he looked down towards her as he allowed her to guide him towards the elevator.

~

The walk towards the apartment was fast while getting Luke ready for bed was another story. He kept making jokes about her taking his clothes off and helping him get into a pair of sweats to help him get comfortable. Or chug a bottle of water and eat a handful of snacks.

He laid beneath the comforter, shirtless and whining. “You have to stay,” he called out, reaching his hands towards her. Letting him take a hold of her hand, he interlocked their fingers. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel her heart flutter at the sudden touch.

“Luke, I want to sleep in my own bed,” she told him as she looked into his eyes. 

“But you’ve slept in my bed before, what’s wrong with doing that tonight? I me-mean you’re already in your pajamas it’s perfect,” he explained, swinging their hands.

“Well you brought up some things that make this weird,” 

“Only weird if you make it weird,” he offered teasingly. She took a deep breath as she continued to look into his eyes, they squinted slightly as he leaned his head back against the head board.

“You’re the one that made this weird, by the way,” she said sarcastically as she climbed over him to lay beside him in the bed. Slowly, she climbed under the comforter and rolled onto her side to meet his gaze. 

“I just put the truth into the universe,” he teased while pursing his lips forward. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she rolled onto her back.

“Good night Luke,” she mumbled. He took in a sharp breath as he fell onto his back as well. 

“Good night,”

~~~

The following morning, Y/N woke up before Luke. She tiptoed out of the bedroom towards the living room. Which was always surprisingly clean. It was early enough, she figured Luke would be asleep for several more hours, especially with how drunk he was towards the end of the night.

She walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, it wasn’t the first time she would wake up before Luke and make herself at home. Luke would be more upset if he found out she stayed in bed waiting for him to wake up to get ready for the day.

She leaned back against the counter as she watched the Kurig pour into the small red mug. Her mind wandered around the words Luke said last night. There was no way Luke would remember everything he said. 

Maybe he would remember some of it but she was convinced he didn’t. She barely had time to spend with him as a friend let alone the effort a relationship has to have.

She couldn’t put that effort in right now, but was he genuine with saying he would wait? She didn’t want a relationship until after school, she still had a year and a hlaf left.

She took the cup from the Kurig and she secured it with both of her hands as she wandered towards the couch. 

It was another hour of her scrolling on her phone and finishing her cup of coffee when Luke stumbled out of the room. His hair was slightly messy but he did not look worse for wear. He stood at the start of the hallway, watching her for a moment.

Lifting her gaze she saw him standing there, she brought her hand towards her chest as she giggled. “Scared the hell out of me,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” he let out as he walked towards her. He sat down beside her, keeping a whole cushion between them. 

They stayed silent for a moment as they let the awkward tension fill the air. 

She swallowed hard as she delicately placed the mug onto the coffee table, “So, how hungover are you?” she questioned, trying to break some of the tension.

He chuckled as he ran his hand across his chin, “Actually not that bad,” he mumbled. She nodded as she kept her gaze towards her lap. He pressed his lips together as he took another deep breath, “I’m waiting,” he let out as he tilted his head to the side. She furrowed her eyebrows. He smirked as he looked into her eyes. 

“Oh, yeah, that conversation we had last night; that you swore I wasn’t going to remember. I remember every word-well okay, not every word but I remember it all-most of it. So-um I guess it’s-yeah you’re turn,” he ranted.

She smiled as she continued to look into his eye as she took in a sharp breath as she stood up from the couch and walked towards him. Standing over him, she started to climb into his lap. He leaned back, cautiously hovering his hands in the air. 

“I don’t know about a relationship,” she began as she rested her hands on the base of his neck, her thumbs grazing the side of his neck briefly. “But I’ve been dying to kiss you,” she muttered. He smiled as she leaned towards him, kissing him urgently.

The kiss was electrifying as Luke finally rested his hands onto her hips. Leaning into him, the kiss was everything that either of them were waiting for. 

“Yet,” she muttered against his lips.

“What?” he mumbled as he leaned towards her, desperate to feel her lips against his again. She returned the kiss for a few seconds before she pulled away.

“Can you wait a little longer?” she mumbled against his lips.

“Can we at least do this?” he pleaded. She leaned towards him kissing him urgently, pulling his bottom lip into her mouth as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

They stayed in that position for a long time as they were enjoying being that close to one another. It didn’t matter that Jack was probably on his way back or that friends with benefits was always a bad idea or that anything in between friends and lovers was a horrible idea. Right now all that mattered was that their lips were connected and that they both felt the same.

[luca-fantilli]

៹࣪ ៸៸ CLINGY . . . ꒱꒱

🍵 (blurb)— trevor tries to convince you to skip your morning workout and stay in bed with him

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. gf!reader x trevor zegras. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. domesticity. suggestive content. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. miss writing for my guy trev. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

You sigh watching the coffee slowly pour into your cup. You desperately needed the caffeine after getting up this early. It was 7am on a Saturday and you wanted nothing more than to get back in bed and sleep in 'til noon, but you couldn't. You and Trevor were attending a friend's birthday lunch that would probably go until late afternoon, and if you didn't go to the gym now, you wouldn't have time to go at all.

Usually you wouldn't be opposed to just skipping a gym session, especially if you had plans but you had already skipped 2 days this week and you didn't want to skip another. A creak in the door made you turn your head towards the left where a very sleepy Trevor was shuffling his way over to you, yawning and hair sticking in every direction.

The sight made you giggle slightly and you turned your attention back to the coffee, noticing the cup was filled. You put the lid on your cup, just as your boyfriend's arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you against him tightly and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up baby," you say, genuinely feeling bad, knowing the start of the season is always an adjustment and he needed his rest.

"come back to bed" he mumbles against your skin, his soft breaths and ends of his hair tickling you slightly.

"I can't. I have to go to the gym" you say, ignoring his hmm of protest, trying to grab your cup in front of you but Trevor was faster and snatched the cup, holding it above his head before you could take it.

You turn around glancing up at the cup that you couldn't reach and gave your boyfriend a deadpan stare. "Really? You're so immature Trev." you say slightly annoyed and he grins. You are so hot when you are mad.

"Babe, you have the hottest body I've ever seen. You don't need to go to the gym." he says, voice slightly groggy since he hasn't been up that long. He was still holding the cup above his head even though you hadn't made an attempt to grab it.

"It's not about how I look. It's about being active. Sometimes I barely get my 10k steps in a day, not all of us play a sport for a living, remember?" you ask but he's not really paying attention, taking a sip of your coffee and immediately scrunching his nose up. He knows you don't take any sugar, but he still drinks it every time, thinking it's gonna taste differently.

"There's other ways you can be active. So many other ways. Come back to bed and I'll show you." he says putting the cup on the counter, hands falling to your hips and pulling you closer to him.

"You're insufferable." you protest, voice fading a little when he starts laying little kisses on your collarbone.

"Come on. I'll make it worth it. I promise you'll burn more calories with me than you will in the gym and you'll have so much more fun doing it." he whispers, his hands sliding down to grab your ass.

You bite your lip, thinking about it for a second before pulling his head down to meet yours in a kiss. He picks you up as you wrap your legs around his waist, carrying you back to bed. It's not like you weren't active at all, right?