#Mat Barzal oneshot

[theemporium]

[3.6k] sometimes home is a place. sometimes it's a person. sometimes it's a bench that holds more memories than mat can fully handle, memories that are slipping through his fingers.

based on 'coney island' by taylor swift for the eras tour hockey fic challenge created by @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston!!

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Present – November 2024 

Never in his life had Mat Barzal felt as pathetic as he did sitting on that bench in Coney Island.

It was cold as fuck, for one, which should have been expected on a day in late November in New York. The temperature was likely below freezing, the chill was starting to seep into his bones, and the jacket he had haphazardly thrown on was doing little to battle the weather.

Yet, it was barely a blip on his radar as the last few weeks properly washed over him. 

Despite the holiday season, there were (thankfully) not many people around to see Mat in all his pathetic and embarrassing glory. Most people were probably sane inside their warm homes, enjoying dinner with the people they cherish the most. It felt stupid to be envious of a city full of people but that is exactly what he was.

Because as Mat sat on that bench, staring out at the near empty beach, he felt like he was choking. 

On his feelings. On his memories. On his bitter resentment that, once upon a time, he was like those people.

That Mat used to have a warm home where he ate dinner with someone he fucking loved and cherished more than anyone or anything else in the world, but now he had lost that person. 

That he didn’t know where his person was or what they were doing, but they were doing much better than him as he sat on the same fucking bench where he first met them.

Where he first met you. 

…

August 2021

“You insist on this every year!” 

“Because it’s fun every year!” 

“And yet you still get pissy when you get beaten by a carnival game.”

Mat glared at him from over his shoulder, not faltering in his steps as he shot his cackling friend a look. “It doesn’t beat me—”

Beau snorted, giving the boy a fond shove as he pushed his way through the crowd to catch up until they were shoulder-to-shoulder again. “Dude, it’s a stupid game that you try every single time. And you fail every time.” 

“It’s rigged,” Mat huffed.

“Yeah, that’s the whole fucking point,” Beau deadpanned. “They are all rigged.”

“But I’ve beaten them all,” Mat whined, sounding young and bratty. “The ring toss is rigged more. It’s made to torture one’s mind—”

“Your mind.”

“—until they are driven insane and haunted by those stupid rings,” he continued to grumble, muttering an apology after he almost walked straight into a lady pushing a stroller.

“All for an arcade ring,” Beau mused, shaking his head. “Dude, you need to let it go.” 

Mat turned to glare at the boy. “No. I have won every single one of these stupid games. I am gonna win this one too.”

Beau opened his mouth. “Mat, dude—”

“And I am gonna get that stupid ring and I will wear it every single day of my—” 

The noise that left his mouth cut him short, something between a scream and squeak of surprise as he found his body hitting someone else instead of the clear path down the pier like he had assumed. He managed to stay on his feet, considering he was a six foot hockey player whose job revolved around being slammed into by other six foot hockey players. 

His victim? Not so much.

“Fuck.” 

It came out like a wheezed, as though the person was winded. Mat quickly spun around, the apologies already leaving his lips as he offered his hand out before he even took a look at the person he accidentally knocked over. And when he did, the apologies died on his tongue as he stared at you, his expression stuck between awe and something else that Beau would spend the better part of the next few years teasing him for.

“Do you even watch where you are going?” 

“Yeah,” Mat replied dumbly, staring at you like he was lost in a daze.

“Clearly not,” you murmured but still took his hand, giving him an odd look when it took longer than a few seconds before he realised and helped you up.

“I’m Mat,” he blurted out before he even let go of your hand. “And I’m sorry.” 

Your lips twitched. “I accept your apology, Mat.” 

“And your name?” He asked, not even trying to be subtle about it (if Beau’s snort was anything to go by). 

Mat feld winded himself when you smiled as you told him your name. 

…

February 2022

“So, let me get this straight.” 

“I am tired of repeating myself.”

“You’re taking her out on Valentine’s Day—”

“Not for Valentine’s Day!”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad. You are taking your friend who you are desperately in love with out on Valentine's Day. How silly of me to take that the wrong way.” 

Mat rolled his eyes, even if Beau couldn’t currently see him. He tucked his free hand into his jacket pocket, the other one curled around his phone as his eyes continued to wander over the pink and red decorations dotted all over the place. It made his nose scrunch up.

“It was the only day we both had free,” Mat insisted, his cheeks tinting pink for a whole different reason other than the cold, nipping weather of winter in New York. 

“No denial about the ‘in love’ part.” 

“Shut up,” he gritted through clenched teeth, as if anyone else could hear Beau except him.

“It’s just a little pathetic—”

“I didn’t ask,” Mat deadpanned, trying to ignore how hot his face now felt. “I don’t even know why I called you.”

“Because you needed a pep talk to finally make a move.” 

“I’m hanging up now,” Mat grumbled, ignoring whatever protests he received on the other side as he quickly pressed the red button before shoving his phone into his pocket with a huff. He was so lost in muttering to himself under his breath that he hadn’t noticed you approaching.

“Woah,” you laughed, hands up in mock defence at the way he jumped out of his skin. “You good?” 

“Yeah, I just—” He waved it off, an easy and genuine smile on his lips as he took in the way you were bundled up, an Islanders scarf around your neck. “Ready to have your ass kicked?” 

Your lips twitched. “Ready to cry over the ring toss again?” 

He did not, in fact, cry over the ring toss but he was undoubtedly grumpy by the time the two of you settled down on one of the benches looking out towards the beach, huffing as he took an aggressive bite from the pretzel that definitely didn’t fit his diet plan.

“C’mon,” you laughed, nudging your shoulder against his. “It’s just a game.” 

“It’s a stupid game,” Mat retorted.

“Beau was right, you take it way too seriously,” you commented, playful and lighthearted with a gleam in your eyes. Like you were so unaware that the comfort you shared with his friends made his chest tighten in the best way possible.

“You have a little—” He cut himself off, gesturing to the side of your lip.

Your brows furrowed, your thumb attempting to swipe the brown sugar away just to miss completely. “Did I get it?” 

“No, I—here, let me,” Mat murmured, reaching over to gently swipe the brown sugar away. But his thumb lingered, his eyes locked on your lips before glancing up at you. He waited for you to pull away but you just stared back.

For a moment, Mat wondered if you were going to suddenly pull away and pretend the small moment never happened.

For a moment, Mat’s stomach dropped at the thought this would be as far as he got with you.

And then you were leaning forward, your lips pressed against his and the pretzels long forgotten.

His body reacted faster than his brain did, kissing you back as the sweet taste of cinnamon and sugar overwhelmed him. The pretzel was left on the bench between you, his hands cupping your face as he sunk into the kiss, as he sunk into your embrace.

And only when you pulled back to smile at him did his brain seem to realise what had just happened. 

And only then did he grin right back at you. 

…

May 2022 

“God, hockey is brutal.”

Mat paused, raising his brows. “Just realised that?”

“Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about hockey after—” You cut yourself off, wincing a little as you stood in his kitchen, just dressed in one of his shirts (ironically, an Islanders one with the number thirteen above your heart) with a mug of coffee in hand. “Ignore me. Watch the eggs don’t burn.” 

Mat snorted. “What has made you realise hockey is so brutal?” 

“Just kinda thinking about it,” you shrugged, your gaze on the rim of your mug rather than his face. It made him frown a little. “Like, I know it’s a part of the sport but, fuck, all it takes is one bad hit and—”

“Woah, hey,” Mat’s frown deepened as he reached for you, the stove turned off, the eggs forgotten and his hand reaching to place the coffee mug on the counter. He took your face in his hands, his thumbs smoothing over the apples of your cheeks. 

“Sorry,” you laughed, but it sounded a bit wet and weak to his ears. He tilted your head up, his lips pressed together when he noticed how glossy your eyes were. “I guess I just never realised how brutal the sport was until I met you. And you guys play through so many injuries and I know your season is over now but the idea of you pushing yourself even more is just—”

“Come back home with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come back home with me for the summer,” Mat repeated, a soft smile on his lips. 

You blinked again, your confusion only growing. “Did you not just hear me—” 

“I did,” Mat interrupted, nodding his head with the look of adoration still written plainly across his face. “And all I could think was, ‘wow, how lucky am I to have this amazing girl care about me so much’ and I just…I am lucky. So lucky. And I wanna show other people how lucky I am. I want to show my family how lucky I am.”

Your face softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mat murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered before leaning in, a soft and lingering kiss left on his lips before you pulled back. “And I’m lucky you care about me too.” 

“I’m really glad I bumped into you that day in Coney Island,” Mat confessed, something warm and comforting bubbling in his stomach at the sight of your smile. 

“Yeah, me too,” you hummed, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “And I love you even if you can’t win the ring toss—”

Mat groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

…

March 2023

“You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Mat blinked, his thoughts torn away from him as he turned to find you settling down onto the bench next to him, two pretzels in your hand. He murmured a small ‘thanks’ as he took one of the pretzels from you, staring at the sugary cinnamon sticks with little appetite. 

“Hide what?” Mat asked. 

“Mat,” you said his name in a way that made his chest tighten, so soft and gentle, like he was some scared animal you were slowly approaching. “Baby, I know you miss him. You don’t have to pretend.” 

His eyes dropped back to the pretzel in his hands. 

Because it was true. He did miss Beau. He missed Beau more than he cared to admit. And it was stupid because he knew this was how hockey worked, he had friends traded and sent away multiple times before. It was a part of the sport. 

But he just didn’t think it would ever hurt this bad, even weeks after the trade had happened. His focus should have been the season and the playoffs approaching. He should have been focused on the team. 

But every time he went on the ice, he couldn’t help but feel like a part of him was missing when he lifted his head and didn’t see Beau there, ready to accept his pass.

“There was this small part of me that just thought—” Mat paused, letting out a heavy sigh. “That we would be on the same team forever, you know? That it would always be me and him. That we would win the Cup together and…yeah.”

“I know,” you whispered, soft and soothing as you placed your head on his shoulder and let him lean his head against yours. “You never know. You two will find your way back to each other.”

His lips twitched into a sad smile. “Maybe.”

“You were always meant to find each other in this life,” you told him, sounding so sincere and genuine over the distant cheers and screams and buzzing noise of the amusement park behind you. “Just because you don’t live minutes away anymore, doesn’t mean that ends. He is always gonna be there for you, just like I am.”

Mat pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you.”

“Always, Mat. Always.” 

…

July 2023

“Home, sweet home!”

Mat winced a little as his voice echoed through the empty apartment, the walls bare and the place a little dusty. But it was yours and it made it perfect, it made the keys in his hand feel heavier and more special than his last set. 

“Fuck, we have so much to unpack,” you commented but you sounded happy. You both did, despite the state of exhaustion the last few days left you, attempting to pack up both of your apartments and moving into your new shared place. 

“That is a later problem,” Mat waved you off, reaching towards you so he could wind his arms around your waist and pull you closer. “We have a mattress and takeout menus, what else do we need?” 

“Preferably some sheets,” you teased, not even attempting to pull yourself out of his hold. You were content exactly where you were. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure you put them in the wrong box.”

“Blame the pretty one,” Mat huffed, cackling when you playfully pinched his hip. “Kidding, baby, you’re obviously the pretty one in the relationship.”

“We can both be pretty,” you rolled your eyes before laying your head on his chest, smiling when you felt him lean his chin on top. “Can’t wait to make this place ours.” 

“It’s gonna be so pretty so it can match us,” Mat murmured, grinning when you laughed in response. 

“It looks so plain right now, it’s freaky,” you commented, half-hearted with no real heaviness to your words. It would take a few days for you both to make it feel homely and you were looking forward to it. 

But Mat was already untangling himself from your hold, grinning as he began tugging you towards the kitchen. “We can put our first proper decoration up!” 

Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “What? But the boxes are—” 

You cut yourself off as you watched Mat reach into the pocket of his sweatpants, grinning widely as he pulled out a small magenet and slapped it on the middle of the very bland fridge. He looked at the magnet with great pride before turning to you, his smile only growing.

You let out a laugh at the sight of the Coney Island magnet on the fridge. “Perfect.”

“Our first home,” Mat grinned, pulling you back in so he could smack a kiss on your lips. “The first of many.”

“I’m not moving for at least another few years,” you joked, smiling against his lips. “This whole thing was exhausting.” 

“As long as it’s with you, I don’t really care.”

…

January 2024

“I need your help.” 

“Oh god, what have you done?” 

Mat frowned at his phone for a moment, forgetting about the bundling nerves that had left him on edge for the last week. He was sure you were starting to pick up on it, even if you hadn’t mentioned as much—thankfully. But after a week of waiting, he finally had the perfect opportunity to call his sister whilst you were out of the house. 

“I have done nothing. Yet.” 

His sister sighed. “Mathew—”

“No full names needed,” he murmured, his cheeks burning as he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling with determination that was quickly dwindling the longer the call went on. “I just…I need your help.”

“With?” 

“A ring.” 

His frown deepened when Liana laughed. “If this is about that arcade game Beau told me about—”

“What? No,” he sighed, his blush only deepening. “I need help picking a ring. A real ring. An engagement ring.”

His sister was silent for a few moments before she spoke. “Holy shit. You’re really gonna do it?” 

Mat couldn’t even bite back his smile. “I want to. This summer, maybe. But I need a ring and I was thinking you could help while we’re up for All Stars and—” 

“Sold. Done. I’m not letting you pick an ugly ring for my future sister-in-law.”

“She might still say no,” Mat reminded her, even if his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. 

“Of course she won’t,” Liana retorted, sounding so confident that Mat almost wanted to believe her wholeheartedly. “Especially if you let me help pick a ring.” 

Mat pressed his lips together. “I really want to find the perfect ring.” 

“We will. She is going to love it, Mat. She is going to say yes.” 

“Good,” he murmured, grinning. “Because she’s it for me. She’s the only person I wanna give a ring to.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Shut up.”

…

October 2024

He couldn’t even remember what started the argument. 

If he was being honest, the tension had been brewing for a while. It had been a combination of things and none of them had made the atmosphere around the apartment much better. Small, silly things that shouldn’t have been that bad but felt like the end of the world as they were thrown at you both, one after the other.

Mat knew it was bad.

He just didn’t think it was this bad.

It felt like the two of you had been at it for hours, and maybe you had. He couldn’t tell anymore, he didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours the two of you had stood on opposite sides of the living room, yelling and screaming and crying. It all felt too much, like it was getting bigger and bigger, just waiting to pop. 

And then it fucking did. 

“I-I can’t do this anymore.” 

And Mat felt like a deflating balloon, the air escaping his lungs as he found himself staring at you, his mouth unable to voice any of the thoughts he wanted to say.

“Maybe,” you let out a bitter laugh, pained and hurt and weak. “Maybe we just aren’t forever, Mat. Maybe you’re not ready to let anything but hockey be your forever.” 

And you were wrong. 

Deep down, Mat knew you were wrong and his brain was screaming for him to tell you just how wrong you were. Because the fight had escalated and spun out of control and he should have grabbed the wheel with both hands to stabilise you both.

But he was hurt and he was petty and he felt his mouth saying the exact opposite of how he felt. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

The way your whole body deflated and your face fell would haunt his nightmares for nights to come, along with the sound of the apartment door slamming shut as you left and never looked back. 

…

Present – November 2024 

Once upon a time, the biggest challenge Coney Island provided him was the damn ring toss game. It had been like that for years. 

But now, he sat on the bench, the plastic ring between his fingers feeling as heavy as the other ring in his pocket. He didn’t feel victorious, he didn’t feel anything but emptiness. Because neither ring meant anything when he was here alone, when he had failed to give you both.

The ring toss was barely a challenge compared to returning to this damn bench almost every day since he had pulled from the lineup with an injury that just felt like a mockery on top of everything else. 

But he did it. He came back every single day because it hurt and he deserved it. He deserved to sit there and think about just what he lost. Because he had no idea where you were, he hadn’t heard a single word from you—not even Beau would tell him if he had heard from you.

Mat had let pride and something else just as stupid get in the way of his forever.

The least he could do was bear the cold, winter weather on that stupid bench until his fingers were too damn numb to hold the stupid arcade ring. 

The least he could do was spend the rest of his days wondering if there was a universe where things were different, where he still had you, where he was able to see you one more time.

The least he could do was let his own thoughts about losing you forever haunt him. 

The least he could do was hope the universe would give him one more fucking chance to fix everything with you, to at least give you the stupid arcade ring he once promised he would win for you.

The least he could do was apologise for not making you his centrefold like he knew you deserved.

Mat stared down at the phone in his hand, pressing your contact before he could talk himself out of it. He had to try. For you, for him, for the forever he knew you two could have. 

He had to try. 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

.

[sc0tters]

The Bet - Mat Barzal

summary: when Mat agrees to participating in no nut November, he didn’t think you would be his biggest problem.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, fingering, minor spanking, small use of degradation.

word count: 3.49k

authors note: this was so much fun to write! Literally loved every second of this. Reader was a little bit of a shit but we love her for it.

When the boys came up with it Mat didn’t think you would care about it.

All it was meant to be was a fun way to do some team bonding, of course the team were participating in No Nut November. When Mat agreed he failed to remember that you had been in Germany working for the last three weeks and getting to use FaceTime and the sound of his voice made only got you so far.

So when you arrived back in New York with the message that he needed to see you it filled your mind with desire as your thoughts made your panties grow slick “hi Matty.” You smiled dropping your suitcase on the floor as Mat came to hug you.

The two of you were in the same apartment building and that’s how you met. Getting stuck in the elevator with a cute guy who lived on your floor meant you were going to make a friend. As the rents raised in the building making the place out of your budget, Mat offered the spare room in his place to you making you his roommate. Eventually one thing moved to another and then you ended up in his bed.

It was quick to become a reoccurring theme for the two of you and quickly your exclusively non exclusive relationship started “we can’t.” Mat sighed feeling your lips nip at the skin on his neck.

He wanted to let himself go as the hockey player missed feeling your touch, but as it was only the third of November Mat knew he had to remain strong even if it was only for a few more days “you okay?” You frowned furrowing your eyebrows as you pulled away.

The Canadian scratched his fingers on the back of his neck “boys thought it would be a good idea if we did No Nut-” Mat didn’t need to finish his words for you to let out a gasp “Mat!” You whined letting your lips form a pout.

Your body hurt as it longed for Mat’s touch, even willing to settle on his tongue or his fingers when you do badly wanted his cock “it’s just a month.” Mat reminded you as he grabbed your hands “we can make it through I promise.” He leaned forward to peck your lips.

Part of you tried to respect Mat and behave as you honestly thought that he was kidding, but as the seventh rolled around and Mat still avoided your bed, you succumbed to the truth.

However you were determined and that’s how you landed up on his couch in nothing more than his jersey “woah.” Mat felt his throat go dry as he caught you in the middle of eating a bowl of ice cream “how was practice?” You smiled dipping your spoon back into the bowl before your brought more ice cream to your lips.

Mat had a shaky walk over to you as he watched you reposition your legs so that he could see you were only wearing your panties beneath the jersey “it was um really good.” The Canadian coughed “are you sure it was hard?” A gasp left your lips as the cold melting ice cream fell onto your chin.

Your eyes sparkled as Mat’s locked with yours “I’m such a klutz.” You giggled using your finger to wipe the liquid from your chin before you wrapped your lips around it letting your tongue swirl around your digit “I’ll be in the shower!” Mat announced pressing his hands against his thighs as he got up and sped walked to his bedroom.

By the middle of the month you had looked to everything other option you had that wasn’t involving Mat. Each night the sound of your moans could be heard from your bedroom as your vibrator became your best friend. The way you’d gasp and whimper as you grew closer to your high and there was nothing Mat could do about it killed him.

So the time he was forced to spend away from you on the Islanders roadie did the remaining participants a load of good as they forgot about their partners. Yet the moment the door to the apartment opened and he was met with the sounds of your whimpers Mat was thrown right back into the bet “m-m-Mat.” You gasped as you pressed your vibrator against your clit as it brushed over the fabric of your panties.

You were in his favourite lingerie set, orange panties with a blue bra. It was a set that you surprised him in after he scored an overtime winning goal. Mat let his hand grip at your doorframe “please Mat.” You looked your eyes with him as he walked into your room not letting his eyes leave yours.

He crawled onto you bed wanting to take his mind off of the loss against the Canucks “let me make you feel good baby.” Mat pleaded wrapping his hand on yours as he guided the vibrator over your clit “let’s do this properly.” He proposed using his free hand to move your panties to the side “fucking missed you.” The Canadian kissed your lips as you moaned feeling the vibrator send shivers up your spine “missed this.” You agreed feeling the bliss bring you away like you were falling away from this all.

Your eyes screwed shut as your legs began to shake causing your heels to dig into the mattress beneath you “more.” Your hand reached down to cup Mat’s bulge in his jeans.

As your hand brushed over the fabric it caused his eyes to go wide. Within seconds Mat stopped the vibrator and set it on the mattress as he retracted himself from your bed “Mat?” You propped yourself on your elbows as you gasped watching him compose himself “I need a shower.” Mat announced running his hand over his face before he ran out of your room.

It had been another three days since that and you had decided to change your game plan “hey Mat.” You smiled as he was cooking dinner “how was your day?” He asked as you wrapped your hands around his torso.

You nuzzled your face in his neck causing him to smile “you tired pretty girl?” The pet name made your legs rub together “been thinking about you.” Mats hand clenched around the spatula as your breath fanned the shell of his ear “how big you are.” Your hand traced over his bulge as you gave it a squeeze.

As Mat remained still you continued to to try your luck “I know you want this baby.” You cooed continuing your actions as you moved your hand to slip into his boxers.

His cock throbbed in your hand “please.” Mat begged so close to accepting defeat as his eyes screwed shut.

It felt like your victory lap as you turned his head to help you kiss his lips “want me to suck you off?” Your voice was soft as you watched him nod “want to put it in your mouth.” Mat nodded watching you drop to your knees to the side of him as he turned his body to face you “please don’t tease me.” The hockey player saw how his erection stuck out as he was probably close to coming already.

When the string of saliva left your lips to coat his cock an alarm went off, most probably one for the thing in the pot that he was cooking “we can’t.” Mat was quick to shake his bad helping his wet cock back into his boxers that he protected with his shorts.

As you got up wanting to whine at him about it Mat instead pecked your lips “it’s just a few more days left baby.” He mumbled watching as you walked off to the where your bedroom was your door shut with a slam. Maybe you shouldn’t have cared that he was doing this, the cause should have warmed your heart. But instead as you had built up a reliance on Mat to help you come, you realised nobody did it better than him.

And for that and no matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t come.

So that was how you landed up at the teams mini party at a bar with a plan. As you complained to your friends about your predicament they reminded you of one key factor, you and Mat weren’t dating.

At the end of the day as much as you had a crush on him he wasn’t your boyfriend and you knew that there was someone on the team who did have a crush on you. That was how you ended up stood next to Pierre most of the night.

His touch was harsh but you figured if you couldn’t make Mat jealous enough for him to fuck you then you’d accept defeat. Mat was a good sport and tried to play along with it all for a bit biting his tongue whenever you’d laugh at the clearly not funny comments that Pierre made.

The Canadian was also struggling at this point in the month and you wearing his favourite dress truly didn’t help how his pants felt tonight. Mat knew you were trying to push his buttons as he’d catch your gaze every time you ran your fingers down Pierre’s arm, it was what you did for Mat.

But when he watched his teammate place on the curve of your ass the hockey player could no longer keep his mouth shut “Pierre I think Matt wanted to talk to you.” Mat lied through his teeth as he smiled like the Cheshire Cat “thanks bro.” Pierre nodding not picking up on it in the same way that you did “we can do this two ways.” Mat began the moment the older boy left you.

His eyes were already undressing you as they started at the loose collar line of your dress, Mat knew you hated wearing a bra “I take you into the bathroom or we go home and I don’t let you come even after November is over.” His warning sent shivers down your spine “what about the bet?” You stammered over your words as he laughed.

He ran his finger over the outline of your lips “I’m done playing good boy whilst you go around like this.” Mat explained leaning down to kiss the side of your lips making sure to miss where you wanted him “if you want to be fucked like a slut I’ll treat you like one too.” The irritation in his voice made you feel lightheaded as your panties grew wet “p-please Mat.”

You croaked out allowing your lips to form a pout.

It made Mat let out a laugh “maybe I should be leaving you here because it doesn’t seem you want this.” Fear went through your as your eyes widened “show me you do baby.” Mat mumbled as you took his hand and practically dragged him off to the bathrooms “look at how desperate my little baby is for my cock.” He teased as the door locked behind you both.

His hand rubbed your face as he pressed you against the counter “please Mat.” You begged puckering your lips as you tried to kiss him but as his hockey reaction times kicked in he instead dodged your attempts “maybe I should just go kiss Pierr-” Mat didn’t let you finish your sentence as his lips were forced onto yours.

You took a mere second to start kissing him back “fuck.” Your words were muffled as Mat pinched his fingers at the skin of your ass when he bunched up your dress around your hips “the way you fucking act I wouldn’t even be in here with you.” Mat grunted pressing his lips against your neck as he nipped at the skin.

The Canadian watched as your eyes fluttered as his hands cupped your breasts with the only thing between you and his hands was the fabric of your dress “but you’re too needy tonight to let me do that aren’t you?” The hockey player retracted himself from you as he was met with your silence “asked you a question.” Mat locked his hand around your jaw squeezing the skin of your chin.

A long whimper came from your lips “need you so much Mat.” You groaned trying to shift your hips towards the hockey player “but you’ve been acting like a brat.” Mat pulled you off of the counter as he spun you around. Your lips were swollen as you started at the two of you in the mirror “look at these little panties too.” The hockey player let out a dry laugh fiddling with the lace material of the white thong you wore.

He massaged the skin on your ass before he raised his hand to it slap the area “fuck!” You jumped feeling him squeeze the sore area of skin “you like that pretty girl?” Mat cooed kissing your neck as he repeated his actions “think the club wants to hear your noises baby.” The hockey player smiled as he brought his hand to cup your pussy.

It made you gasp as you pushed yourself up “god you’re soaked.” He clicked his tongue moving his fingers around the material so that he could tease your clit “please Mat.” You begged him as your body began to relax as his movements continued at the slow pace.

You whimpered feeling his fingers run down your slit before they thrusted into your cunt, his palm pressed against your clit “you’re so fucking good to me.” You croaked letting your head drop against his shoulder “I know baby.” Mat kissed your temple when your cunt clenched around his fingers.

He watched you gasp as your jaw went slack “god you don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this pussy this month.” The Canadians words made you moan “thought about waking you up so many times during the night just by shoving my dick in to this hole.” You whined feeling his breath against your neck.

The hockey player smirked seeing how you watched the mirror “you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He asked nipping at your earlobe “waking up full of my load as it’s trapped inside of you.” Mat wasn’t usually possessive but tonight unlocked a whole new side of him “want that Mat.” You begged reaching forward to grip at the sink in an attempt to avoid how quickly your orgasm was approaching.

At that point Mat could feel his cock pressing against the fabric of his jeans “I’m gonna fuck you now.” He announced removing his hand from your panties as it caused to you whine “I’ll give you what you want in a second.” Mat rolled his eyes as he slotted his fingers into your mouth “taste yourself f’me.” Watching you swirl you tongue around his digits like it was his cock felt like you were teasing him.

It made him reach back down to your panties as he pushed them down “can’t wait to fuck you.” Your hands helped bunch your dress around your waist as you stepped out of your panties “don’t make me wait.” You begged feeling your legs ache with anticipation as the sound of him undoing his belt echoed in your ears “you’ll take it when I fucking give it to you.” Mat spat as his fingers dug into your hip.

Mat wrapped his hand around his cock pumping it a few times as he licked his lips “‘m sorry.” You apologised turning to lock eyes with him “I know you are.” The hockey player sighed bringing his cock to tease your clit “that’s why you’re gonna be a good girl and take it.” Mat ordered thrusting his cock onto your cunt as your head fell forward.

He smiled as you weren’t given any time to adjust to his cock “god you’re so tight.” The Canadian grunted as he kissed the back of your neck “you been missing this cock?” Mat asked as you moaned reaching up to pull the sleeves of your dress down so that you could pull at your nipples.

You moaned as his cock pumped into you “fuck yeah.” Your fingers tugged at your sensitive nubs “so big.” You blurted out as his fingers went to rub your clit “keep making those pretty noises for me baby.” Mat mumbled kissed your neck.

The hockey player watched in the mirror as his cock bottomed you out “don’t stop Mat.” You pleaded as you began forcing yourself back against his cock “to think I actually gave this cunt up for a month.” Mat laughed at his words as he clicked his tongue.

Your brain went foggy as not a single coherent thought formed in it “see why you tried so fucking hard.” You whimpered as he used his free hand to bring your back flat against his torso “‘m not an idiot.” You pointed out causing him to laugh “you forgetting that you went to Pierre?” Mat shot back as your teeth caught your lip as you held back a moan.

Mat tsked as his eyes caught your action “want to hear you baby.” He muttered into your ear as his hand squeezed around your throat “let him know just who is making you feel this good.” He hinted to the boy you had been stuck to your side the entire night “you jealous?” You teased with a smirk as you squeezed your hand around his causing the wrap he had go tighter.

The room felt hot as the sound of skin slapping echoed off of the walls “look at the mirror.” Mat barked making you look up at the glass causing him to look back at you “it’s my cock that’s fucking you.” He explained kissing your head “I’m the one who owns this cunt.” The hockey player spat making you moan.

You felt yourself grow close “all yours Matty.” You nodded as you let out a cry “I’m gonna come.” Tears formed in your eyes as your legs began to shake again “let it go baby.” Mat nodded giving you the green light to come.

It was hot as your cunt clenched around his cock as Mat fucked you through your orgasm “my pretty little girl.” He cooked quickly pulling himself out so that he could flip you over pushing you onto the counter “Ma-” you gasped feeling him thrust into you again.

Mat pushed his hand against the mirror above you “I’m not stopping until I come.” He explained making you moan “please.” Your voice was shaky as you felt your eyes roll back when his hand found its way back to your clit “god I’ve just given you one and now you want more?” Mat smirked as you tried to kiss him “I need you Mat.” You moaned using your energy to lock your hands behind his neck pulling him close to you.

He felt his cock throb as his movements became staggered “I’m close.” You hadn’t come down from your first orgasm and it left you close to a second “hold it.” Mat snapped quickening his movements on your clit causing your cunt to clamp around his cock.

Your throat felt raw as you whined “don’t push your luck baby.” The hockey player warned you “keep squeezing my cock like that.” As you tilted your hips to meet his it resulted in both of you moaning.

Mat kissed your lips to hold in his moan “Mat!” You huffed as your body shook “let it go baby.” He grunted as your second orgasm trigger his first of the night.

As his warm ropes shot into your cunt you tried to push him away as he slowly kept his hips moving “just making sure my come stays in you.” Mat smiled pecking your lips as he pulled out allowing you up. You reached for your panties on the floor but he was quicker “you aren’t going to need these tonight.” The hockey player explained shoving them into the pocket of his pants before he continued getting ready to go back out.

You two had gotten out of the bar unseen and as you got in the car you thought you finally had the chance to breathe “you look real fucking pretty tonight.” Mat smiled as his hand moved up your thigh “just tonight?” A smirk was quick to fall from your face as his fingers touched the lips of your cunt “Mat.” Your voice grew shaky feeling his fingers tease your slit.

The car came to a red light “just making sure you stay ready for when we get back home.” Mat smirked as he kissed your lips “no coming until we get home.” His words made you grow sick with fear as his fingers formed a scissoring motion in your cunt.

“You couldn’t have thought I’d let you get away with that behaviour all month, now could you?”

[jackhues]

bad reaction pt. 2 - mat barzal (au #2)

part one has been dubbed the 'bad reaction mat fic', so here's the second au of part two loll. here's the first au of part two! this kinda sucks, but it's not supposed to be a happy ending so yeah

gif not mine!

it was quiet. too quiet.

you peered an eye open, trying to listen to any sound of noise in the apartment. you couldn't.

suspicious, you got to your feet, making your way down the hall and into your son's room. finding it empty, you suppressed a groan.

if he was awake and not making noise, it meant something was happening. something you wouldn't be happy about.

you silently headed down the hallway and towards the living room, mentally preparing yourself to clean up whatever mess nico had made this time. he was a rowdy kid. always making noise, breaking lamps, or creating messes.

but he had a heart of gold.

"nico," you called out your son's name a little hesitantly.

"in here, mama!" he responded.

you followed his voice to the living room, stopping in your tracks at the sight on the t.v. screen.

it had been years - six years - and that time had seemed to do mat well. he hadn't shaved recently, growing out a bit of scruff, and his brown eyes were just as lovely as you remembered.

he was in the middle of giving an intermission interview, answering the reporter with the standard responses.

"he shoots... he scores!" nico's voice broke your trance.

nico had taken the broom from the kitchen and was holding it as if it was a hockey stick. the tennis ball he was using as a puck slammed into the leg of the coffee table, adding another dent.

you shook your head to yourself, reaching for the remote to turn the t.v. off.

"no, mama wait!" nico called out. "i wanna watch the hockey game."

"it's a repeat, bubba," you told him. "the islanders already won. besides, i thought you didn't like hockey."

"i changed my mind," he shrugged simply. "but leave it, i wanna watch."

despite your heart aching at the sound of mat's voice - no matter how monotone it was - you gave in to your son's wishes, leaving the game on. insisting on turning the t.v. off would only make him suspicious.

the last thing you needed was for anyone to find out who nico's dad was.

--

tags:@woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @hischierhaze, @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @youunravelme

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

PLUS ONE - m.barzal

part one: sam & julia

warnings: alcohol, vomiting, hangovers, swearing, shit ex, wedding, breaking and entering, little bit of angst

plus one masterlist

“Remember that time we had a sleepover in your basement and—”

You rolled your eyes, happily accepting the shot put under your nose as you knocked it back. 

God, you hated wedding speeches. Very rarely were they entertaining, and more often than not, you found yourself cringing at the thinly veiled jealousy exuded by the poor people subjected to give the speeches when they said one final goodbye to the friend they’d known since high school before they were inevitably swept up by the trials and tribulations of married life. 

That downright made you feel ill; sure, there were different types of wedding speeches, but, and hypocritically, the ones you hated the most were the awkward ones, where someone hadn’t come prepared at all, and stuttered and paused as they tried to think of something to say to satisfy the uncomfortable blanket of silence that inevitably would have draped itself across the entire room. Those kinds of speeches were drab, and they were somehow made even worse by the random questions thrown out there. Like this guy, for example. 

To say you’d known the bride since college you could safely say you’d never seen this person in your life, and probably for good reason, because his lack of organisational skills were astounding to the point that the only way you could distract yourself from it was to blindly accept the shots from your ever-so-gracious, and probably just as tipsy, plus one.

But this guy delivering the speech? His hands were shaking, and you could see sweat dripping down his temples and shining on his forehead, and whilst you did feel a tad of sympathy for him (because speeches are tough anyway), you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in the way he kept flicking between two sheets of folded paper – hands shaking and looking nothing short of caught.

He’d been doing the question thing for longer than it really needed to be done for.

Sometimes people underestimated the power and effectiveness of the short-but-sweet speeches – ones that probably meant a lot more to the married couple than the disjointed rawlings that almost made it seem as though the person delivering said speech was trying to prove a point. What the point was, you had no idea, but there was definitely something to be said about the unreasonably long sequence of ‘do you remember…’, ‘one time we…’.

“I’m so fucking bored.” You could tell it was meant to be a whisper, one strictly reserved for your ears only, and you would have put a hand over your mouth to smother the laugh you felt bubbling up – if it weren’t for the fact that your entire table heard exactly what he’d just said.

Almost as soon as those words had left his mouth, you felt the weight of seven disapproving stares burn holes through the side of your face, and if it were possible, through the man himself. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin as though he’d been pierced by a hundred burning lasers.

Mat seemed oblivious – either that or he was promptly and purposefully ignoring the sudden attention, attention which he had vowed to stray from. In his words, ‘I want a hockey-free night, and ‘Tony’ sounds pretty gangster’. 

So, even though his place card said ‘Mat’, in his slightly tipsy state before the speeches began, he’d confided that he was to be called ‘Tony’ for the night. You’d simply patted him on the arm and obliged anyway, although you knew the only way to prevent yourself from actually calling him Mat was to just forgo calling him a name entirely.

So when you felt the table’s attention return back to the poor best man now wrapping up his speech, you hid a smile behind your hand. He was right, it was boring. And you were also dreading what would happen after the speeches, because you’d accidentally made direct eye contact with an ex of yours before you’d sat down, and the look in his eye had you predicting he’d want to talk to you before the night ended. 

There was a smattering of applause, and before you knew it, chairs were scraping along the floor and people were beginning to stand for the first dance. You attempted to stand – it was courteous considering you used to be somewhat friends with the bride – and it was polite, and honestly, you did want to see it. It was tradition, and you knew that it was really the first chance the couple had at actually realising they were married.

You loved watching their faces, even if they were a hint bashful at being under everyone’s watchful eye.

However, you couldn’t do that this time. People were lined up along gaps between the tables, and unfortunately that meant you couldn’t even push your chair out and stand up to get a glimpse over everyone’s heads, so you stayed with Mat, who’d gone back to sipping his Prosecco.

“Are you gonna be okay if I go and talk to some people for a bit?” You whispered, ears catching the soft melody of the music over the chatter of the crowd.

Mat blinked, turning to face you, a question written in his features, “I’ll be fine. Who’re you gonna talk to?”

His eyes were glazed, and his cheeks were flushed. He’d shrugged off his blazer a while ago, and you knew him well enough to know he was well on his way to being a little more than tipsy tonight. Unfortunately for you, that probably meant that he’d be an absolute nightmare to get to sleep.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Logan.” You admitted quietly, watching Mat carefully.

He rolled his eyes, handing you another shot – not successfully hiding his distaste for the situation. His gaze was stern and his mouth was pulled into a frown, “As in Logan that–”

“Yes.” Your tone was harsh, and Mat leant back in his chair, his jaw ticking as he turned back to the crowd. You handed him the shot he’d given you, and he downed it, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

You leant back in your chair, mind racing. Mat had always had a certain displeasure for Logan – more specifically than any other ex he’d known – and he wasn’t exactly your favourite ex by any means, but there was something about Logan that got Mat ticking and his temper flaring. As far as you were aware, the two had never met; you’d been dating Logan around the same time you’d met Mat, but before you’d had the chance to introduce them both, Logan ended things. 

Never said why, never gave a reason, and if you were being honest, you were kind of curious as to how this little conversation with him was going to go. 

But to satisfy some of Mat’s not-so-subtle uncomfortability, you’d made the split-decision to negotiate with him. 

“If I make eye contact with you and blink twice, I’d like it if you could get me out of there.” Then, just as an afterthought, “Or if you’d prefer it, you can sit here and stew in your irrational hatred for the guy.”

“It’s rational–”

“So tell me.”

“Not yet, okay?” He paused, sighing, “But I’ll keep an eye on you.”

You lent an elbow on the table, resting your head against your fist as you looked at him. He was irritated, and it was almost immediately after he’d finished speaking that Logan stopped behind him and a shadow fell across his spot on the table that his concern turned almost instantaneously into a scowl. You sighed, frustrated with both Logan’s appearance and Mat’s refusal to give you any semblance of the truth, so you neglected to pat your friend on the shoulder when you walked back.

It was petty, but it wasn’t exactly your job to console him at that moment – least of all when it would be you talking to him.

Logan surprisingly led you to the dancefloor – though with the way his eyes kept flicking over your shoulder, you had an inkling that it was the lingering threat of Mat burning holes through him that prompted Logan to choose a place more in the public eye. 

You offered him a tight smile when you both awkwardly held each other, careful not to get too close. His hands were warm on your back, and you noticed that he made sure to touch you where your dress covered your skin. 

The tension between you both was odd, and it only seemed to break when an elderly couple – both wrapped up in their own foxtrot of sorts – accidentally knocked into you both. It had you both smiling at the couple, mutterings of ‘no problem’, and then the tension seemed to alleviate somewhat.

“How have you been?” You asked, unable to avoid catching a glimpse of Mat snatching a glass of Prosecco off a tray and down the entire thing in one go. Your expression dimmed slightly, and you had to cut your attention back to Logan, who was looking off to the side, how mouth slightly agape – almost sheepish.

“I’ve been good, yeah. I’m actually getting married next year, which is exciting.” His cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his clear adoration.

He might have been a pretty slack boyfriend, but you were still incredibly happy for him.

“Congratulations, who’s the lucky person?” Your grin widened as he looked to his feet bashfully, trying to mask the smile on his face.

Logan was never someone who openly admitted to wanting to settle down. Even when he was with you he’d flirt with the occasional girl; it was part of his personality, one that never dwindled even throughout the whole of college. After the breakup, he’d approach you in parties if you happened to see each other, and he’d still attempt to flirt with you – there was no end goal in sight with him – you always saw it more as a joke than anything. Truthfully, you assumed he was just a charming personality, although there were glimpses of something that always rested behind that flawless smile and those dazzling blue eyes.

You could imagine that falling in love with someone took him by surprise.

“Her name’s Rory, we were on and off in my last year of college, got back together two years ago and I proposed in December.” He nodded wistfully, as if recounting the moment, “What about you?” He nodded in Mat’s direction.

When you followed his eyes, you saw Mat had moved from his previous seat. He now held a new glass of Prosecco in his hand, and was sitting next to a little boy on the floor, just under the draping of the tablecloth. He was still watching you, and when he caught both your and Logan’s gaze, you shook your head in his direction, answering his implied question.

You saw his hazel gaze slide over to Logan momentarily, before he turned back to the kid, smiling at whatever they were handing him.

He was pretty – that was a fact you weren’t aware of, but Logan’s suggestion was…not correct.

“Oh, he’s just a friend. I met him around the time we broke up, actually.” You answered awkwardly.

But Logan wasn’t looking at you, in fact, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were fixed intently on Mat, a flicker of recognition flashing through his features.

“Is that Mat Barzal?” He asked, his eyes flicking down to you momentarily.

You stuttered, feigning confusion, “Who?”

“Mat Barzal? The hockey player for the Islanders?” Logan arched a brow, disbelieving of your naivety.

You nodded slowly, trying to figure out how you could spin the conversation without making you look ridiculous, “Oh, him…He actually gets that a lot.” You felt your cheeks flush, the slight haze of the alcohol beginning to kick in; you were surprised it took so long to take effect, and because of your sudden panic and hesitation, not wanting to out Mat when he’d previously stated he wanted to be called Tony for the night, you found yourself manoeuvring Logan, making sure his back was to Mat as you willed him to make eye contact with you.

He was still chatting to the little boy, gladly accepting a flower that must have been from a table somewhere, and you could tell from the slump in his shoulders and the way he’d had to half lean against the table leg that he was a little drunker than you’d initially guessed. So much so that, even through Logan talking, you watched as Mat brushed the tablecloth out of his face, before faltering, his hand going to stroke the material with incredible curiosity.

The delighted face he made as he searched for you in the crowd of dancers almost had you laughing out loud. If it weren’t for the slight fear you had with Logan’s insistent questioning.

“I never knew you were friends with Mat Barzal–” Logan carried on, oblivious to your rising sense of anxiety, one that only seemed to decline when Mat finally caught your eyes, and you blinked twice – purposefully.

It took a moment for him to realise what was happening, before the smile on his face faded a little and his hand untangled itself from the tablecloth as he wobbled to his feet, incredibly mindful of the little boy still playing with the flowers.

“Well…” you stalled, swallowing nervously and watching with careful eyes as Mat somehow managed to wind himself through the crowd to get to you, flashing people apologetic smiles if he bumped into them, “Actually…”

You saw him reach you a couple of feet away, and you didn’t let yourself relax until he was standing next to you, a comfortable – noticeably fake – smile plastered on his face. It was polite nonetheless, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“Hey, man,” Mat started talking, and you slowly pulled away from Logan, who’d frozen, his jaw dropped in sheer awe, “Is it okay if I just take Y/N off your hands for a bit? I need her to look at these tablecloths with me.”

You had to look away. Mat may have looked physically sober, but his speech was slurred and his cheeks were rosy and he couldn’t keep his eyes still when he looked at Logan. 

You snuck a peek at Logan, who’d seemingly regained a little consciousness and his cheeks were flushing with embarrassment.

You always admired Mat’s patience and tolerance for his fans, and even then it didn’t seem to dwindle when he was faced with the man he clearly had some sort of hatred for, and was also less in control of his own actions considering the fact he was drunk off his face. That tight smile was still plastered on his face, and he swayed a little on the spot, forcing you to reach a hand out to stabilise his arm. 

He didn’t even flinch. 

Even so, despite the fact that it took a while for Logan to compose himself, his eyes very obviously going from your hand on Mat’s arm, then all the way down his figure, Mat remained completely calm and patient. In your grip, however, you could feel some awkward tension in his arms; he remained rigid, as if expecting some sort of backlash to the interruption, though that may have just been his awareness of his lack of stability, and in combating that appearance, he’d purposefully tensed to remain on his own two feet.

Logan stuttered, a hand going to rest on his own chest as he glanced back at you, almost remembering you were standing there and Mat was, in fact, asking for you in that moment, “I mean, sure – I’m Logan, by the way.” He held a hand out for Mat to shake.

Tony or Mat? The ultimate question.

After a few seconds, you furrowed your brows, looking at Mat only to see his eyes were fixed on Logan’s wavering hand, a conflict evident in his eyes. You squeezed his arm, and he lifted his hand to shake Logan’s.

It was slow, and every movement was deliberate, and you couldn’t tell if you were expecting to find something or overthinking the entire thing, but you swore Logan’s hand turned white for a split second.

“I’m Tony,” Mat began, removing his arm from your grip to take your hand instead. He was still looking at Logan, and you could sense the challenge between the two men as Logan blinked, obviously confused. He looked back to you for a split second, and you shrugged, offering him no justification. It was clear to you and it was obviously clear to Mat that Logan knew who he was, and in that brief moment that Mat let Tony land in the silence between them, you could tell he was waiting for Logan to challenge him, “nice to meet you.”

Logan nodded, swallowing harshly, and you couldn’t help but feel a hint of sorrow for him – but at the end of the day, it was inevitable that Mat took precedence in your mind.

“You too.” Logan mumbled, before turning to you, a grimace of a smile etched on his face, “Well, it was nice to catch up; I’m glad you’re well and happy, but I can see you’ve got tablecloths to inspect with Tony.” He nodded, carefully avoiding Mat’s eyeline as his focus was kept entirely on you. 

You nodded, plastering a smile on your face for nostalgia’s sake, even if you were slightly uncomfortable with how the interaction had turned out, “You too, I hope you have a lovely wedding, and send Rory my congratulations.”

“I will, thank you.” At this, Logan’s grimace seemed to soften slightly.

“See you around.” 

“You too.”

And then Mat was dragging you back through the crowd, this time not as careful to prevent himself bumping into anyone as he was before, and you had to pull his hand back a little to get him to slow down. 

When you finally reached his prior spot, he dropped your hand and sat on the floor, this time almost entirely hidden underneath the table.The kid from before had disappeared, and there were significantly less people around – the crowd had dispersed and people were beginning to say their goodbyes.

It was pretty late.

You didn’t follow him, instead opting to stand with your arms crossed, attempting to at least be a little annoyed with his behaviour for Logan’s sake, but with the way he was acting – high out of his mind – you couldn’t help but break out a small smile. He’d gone back to playing with the tablecloth, and he was a few inches from falling onto the floor, his eyes so glazed over with no trace of his previous tension evident in his frame. It almost seemed like he’d forgotten the entire interaction altogether.

Neither of you said anything for a while, and it wasn’t until Mat straightened up under the table and gently patted your leg with a frown that almost mimicked a child’s that you realised he’d been waiting for you to sit down with him.

You sighed, hiding your smile at his antics, and joined him under the table.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, lazily turning his head to look at you as he rested his head on his elbow. His eyes were comically sad, and it sent a pang of guilt resonating through you.

He’d been looking sad quite a bit lately – it was part of the reason you’d invited him to this wedding, to get his mind off the breakup, but a small part of you regretted asking him. Surely inviting him to a wedding after a breakup would only break his heart even more? Remind him of what he could have had?

You shook your head, “I could never be mad at you.”

He nodded, seemingly happy with the response, but there wasn’t a smile on his face to support that.

“I overheard him at a restaurant once,” he started, huffing a breath after pulling his eyes away from yours. You furrowed your brows, not entirely sure what he was talking about, but not wanting to interrupt his flow, “I didn’t know it was him until I saw you clearing out his stuff from your dorm–”

Oh. 

He was talking about Logan. Even the tone of his voice had you on edge – he was angry, and with that came a sense of foreboding. 

“–I was with some friends, and they were sitting behind us, and…you should have heard some of the things they were saying, even Logan.” He sighed, not daring to look at you, “They were talking about women like they were…objects, like their sole purpose was to be on this earth for their pleasure–” He stopped talking, and you saw his face crumple, visibly uncomfortable as he recalled whatever was plaguing his mind, “It was so vulgar. It was horrible, and I guess one of them must have said something about someone we knew, because Jamie snapped and yelled at them and the next thing I knew, Jamie was socking him in the face and all five of us were brawling with the others. I remember seeing Logan’s photo in your room afterwards and I was glad you guys broke up.” He laughed bitterly, “I know if you guys hadn't, I would have been scared for you – and guy is getting married?” He turned to you, complete disbelief dripping from his face.

You nodded.

“Fucking hell.”

There wasn’t really much to say. Your mind was undoubtedly reeling with the new onslaught of rather horrible information, and a part of you did wonder if he was only telling you this because he was drunk and he was still thinking about Logan after the short conversation. But when you thought about it, Logan having those views about women wasn’t all surprising. There were comments he’d made in your relationship that had you pausing and pulling faces at the time, but you brushed them off, half hoping he was joking in your youthful naivety. 

It put a lot of things into perspective for you.

“Thank you for defending us.” You whispered, tilting your head towards him.

“Shouldn’t have had to yefend dou.” He slurred, blinking upon realising what he’d just said.

You laughed softly, despite the subject, “I know. But there’s always going to be people like that, and not many would have stood up against what they were saying in the first place, so thank you.” 

“Shouldn’t have given him the time of day.” He shook his head, beginning to sulk, and though you knew he’d probably chastise himself over what he did and didn’t do, you let him for a while, simply rubbing a hand against his back.

“Considering what you knew, I thought you handled it very well.”

“I had to,” he threw a hand up in the air, shifting himself so his head was leaning against your shoulder, “If I’d have blown up, something would have happened with my career. I wanted to, but…”

“It’s okay.” You rested your head on top of his.

You sat like that for a while, you people watching from your hiding space.

Then Mat’s breathing changed and you felt him relax against you, and you knew it was time to get back to the hotel. You hesitated waking him, but knew he’d probably need to throw up at some point, and it would be more comfortable if he was sleeping in his bed.

You dragged a hand through his hair, gently scratching to wake him up. The trick for waking a drunk, sleepy Mat Barzal was slowly. If he woke up in a fright, he’d spend a while trying to fight his way out of a dizzy spell, and it had taken a few goes to really find the right way to wake him up; stroking his hair seemed to be the most effective, with the least amount of side-effects.

You felt him begin to stir, a sleepy sigh escaping his lips. 

“Careful.” You whispered, watching as his eyelashes fluttered and he tensed, slowly lifting his head from your shoulder, groaning as he blinked rapidly.

“How long was I out for?” He asked, and you saw his eyes wobble before he shut them entirely. He was still drunk, but the motion of moving into a vertical position after being somewhat horizontal sent his head spinning.

“Only about ten minutes or so.” You answered, moving to shuffle out from under the table, before turning around and holding a hand out for him to grab on to, “Come on, you need to sleep.”

He opened his eyes, somewhat blindly grasping for your hand and using it as leverage to pull himself out from under the table. There weren’t many people around anymore, so you had no trouble leaving the tent, one of Mat’s arms draped across your shoulders. You had to stop every so often, Mat breathing heavily through his nose to keep a bout of vomit down, but you managed to get him up the stairs and to his hotel room.

“You gonna be okay?” You asked, leading him to his bed. Your room was just next door, and you knew if he knocked you’d gladly run in and help if he needed it, but all his stuff was here, and you were both tired from the late night and the events that had come with it. A full day of socialising and answering personal questions asked by strangers was exhausting. 

“Should be.” He answered, face down on top of the duvet. 

You didn’t answer him, but moved to the mini fridge in the corner of the room to take out a bottle of water and some painkillers for the morning, placing them on his bedside table.

“Right, well, I’m next door. Knock if you need anything.” You reminded him, patting him gently on the back.

It felt almost inhumane leaving him to suffer by himself, but you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to ask if he needed help. That gave you some peace of mind at least, and you weren’t about to impose yourself in his room when he might not even need much assistance.

You went back to your room, and it was only after you’d finished in the bathroom and managed to get somewhat comfy in your own bed that you heard a sound that sent your heart into a frenzy of panic.

There was a click that sounded remarkably like the lock on your door, and before you could turn the light on and overthink it, your door was opening and Mat was walking through carrying a bottle of water and looking worse for wear.

“Jesus Christ.” You whispered harshly, refraining from throwing a pillow at him, “You scared me! How did you even get in here?” 

He blinked, coming over to sit on your side of the bed, looking a little unwell if you said so yourself. There was a tinge of green to the pallor of his skin, and a thin film of sweat across his forehead, “I stole one of your keys earlier.” He said, breathlessly.

You swallowed, a sense of dread prickling your stomach at his symptoms. You got out from under your covers, placing a hand to his forehead. You weren’t cold by any means, but when you placed your hand against his forehead, he leant into it, relishing in the relief you provided. His eyes shut and he sighed.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned.

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly clamped it shut when his body jolted. You barely had three seconds to spin a single thought together, and the closest thing was the ice bucket, so you lunged for it, just shoving it in front of his face quick enough for him to empty the contents of his stomach into it. 

You winced, trying not to think too much about what was happening, and he hunched forwards, trying to jam his face into the bucket, “Hey, you don’t want to get covered in it, get your face out.” You scolded gently, and he lifted his head slightly, his hand going to clutch your forearm for support.

It was bound to happen, you’d decided. You lost track of how much he’d drunk, and you couldn't say you’d been with him the majority of the night, so you didn’t have any realistic guesses as to how much alcohol he’d consumed, but puking wasn’t exactly an unpredictable end to the night.

His breathing was ragged, and every so often you’d catch a groan of pain as his stomach twisted.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hair, rubbing a hand down his back. “Just let it all out.”

A couple of minutes later, the vomiting had stopped somewhat.

Mat lifted his head up, trying not to gip when he caught a glance of the contents of the bucket, and unscrewed the cap on the bottle of water he’d brought with him.

“Better?” You asked.

He nodded, greedily gulping it down.

“Can I clean and empty it now or do you feel like you’re gonna need it again?”

He shook his head.

You pushed yourself from the bed, turned the light on in the bathroom and poured the contents into the toilet, before flushing it and placing the bucket in the bath – immediately turning your attention away from it and blasting the shower on. 

When you made it back to your bed, Mat had curled up under the covers on your warm spot, his back turned to the middle of the bed. He was still awake, and when you placed the bucket on the bedside table next to his side, he attempted a smile.

“Feeling better?” You asked, trying not to smirk when he huffed and pulled the duvet closer up the bed.

“Just say it. I know you want to.”

You grinned, climbing into the other side of the bed, “Well if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

You snuggled down, turning off the light by the bed, slightly smug but also kind of feeling a little bit bad for how miserable he must be feeling.

Just as you were about to drift off, a voice cut through the darkness, jolting you awake.

“Can we cuddle?” 

You screwed up your face, half amused yet slightly taken aback by the question. Sure, you’d cuddled Mat occasionally before, mainly when he’d had a bad game or was feeling a bit sorry for himself, but it felt weird doing it in a bed with the lights off.

It felt like the territory that friends should not venture into.

“No.” You whispered.

Clearly that wasn’t the answer Mat was hoping for, because you felt the sheets move around you and a waft of air hit your face. When you opened your eyes you were almost nose to nose with the Canadian.

His hair was a mess, you could see that in the dark, and his eyes were shining.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Friends cuddle all the time. We’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, in daylight and not in a bed. It’s weird.”

“What’s weird about it?”

“Everything. Also, you’re still drunk and you literally just threw up. You have vomit breath.”

“I’ll clean my teeth.”

“Please go to sleep.”

“But I want to cuddle.”

“Go clean your teeth.” 

He get out of bed, whisper-cackling at managing to wear you down so quickly, and you attempted to go back to sleep, knowing if he saw you were asleep he wouldn’t even go anywhere near you, but the two minutes seemed to go past incredibly quickly and before you knew it, he was climbing back into bed, looking at you expectantly.

He was facing you, a fact that had your brain stalling a little.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“What are you doing?” He shot back, pulling a face.

“I’m wondering why you’re looking at me like that.”

“Because you’re not turning around?”

You let out a breath, almost scoffing at his insinuation, “I am not turning around.”

“Is it because you don’t want to deal with morning wood?”

“What the fuck, no.”

“Or maybe you’re scared there will be no morning wood? Because maybe if I don’t get morning wood then you’d think you weren’t attractive – which you are – but if I get morning wood, then you’d think I was attracted to you–”

“Stop saying morning wood. And that’s not the reason, okay? I couldn’t care less if you got a boner – and by the way, I am amazed at the way your mind works, really. But I am not letting you spoon me.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Why?” You could almost hear his offended tone slip through.

“You know what? Forget the whole cuddling thing, I’ve changed my mind.”

Mat threw his face into the pillow, groaning dramatically.

“You don’t like cuddling?” He asked, almost appalled at the idea.

“Not with you.”

He gasped, before trying to shuffle closer to you, seeking some heat since he’d left the bed and been exposed to cold air.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cross the boundary.” You pushed yourself up, drawing a line from where the two pillows met in the middle of the bed, preventing him from moving forward any further.

“Why, what would happen if I did?”

“You’d be entering a different season and if you stay too long your wings would break. You’d have a broken wing, Mathew. Nobody wants that.”

You practically heard him roll his eyes at your exaggerating, “Is that a Tinkerbell reference?” You nodded, “How old are you? And it’s just cuddling. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh, Jeez, I don’t know, maybe you could puke in my face and I could choke on your vomit?”

There was a beat of silence, and you could feel the weight of a sarcastic stare poking holes in your face, “Be fucking for real right now–”

A short burst of laughter escaped you, and you could hear Mat chuckling a little at your reaction. The silence was short lived – as it always seemed to be when you were talking to Mat at night.

“What about tickle-scratching?” He whispered, just as you turned your back on him.

You pulled a face, “What the fuck is that?” You turned your head slightly over your shoulder just in time to see a hand reach out towards you.

“It’s where we, like, scratch each other’s backs in a gentle way,” he demonstrated, his hand indeed going to scratch your shoulder very gently, as though he was afraid you’d shoot the idea down. You definitely were, but your curiosity as to where he was going with this was winning you over, “Not in a weird way, just like…” He trailed off, his hand still gently scratching your skin.

It was a little weird, but you couldn’t deny that the action sent shivers down your spine. It was a nice feeling, a little strange – it made you feel like a cat or something, but it felt weirdly relieving.

“What?” You exclaimed, beginning to tease him a little through his still-drunken haze.

Where the fuck had he gotten that from?

He groaned once more, this time ripping his hand off you and rolling over onto his side of the bed, his back turned to you with a flourish. You did briefly wonder how he hadn’t made himself dizzy with all that throwing around and sharp turns of direction, but you spent most of your energy trying to smother your giggles behind your hand.

You tried not to move the mattress, but when you felt him turn around, undoubtedly confused as to the shaking, you cleared your throat, and spun back around. You scooted over the line of demarcation, risking a broken wing, and wrapped an arm around his waist, making yourself comfortable as he grasped onto your hand and you settled your forehead against his back.

To say he’d been seeking some bodyheat barely minutes ago, Mat was boiling. In fact, you didn’t know how the thought of seeking human contact had even occurred, because that level of warmth would surely just make him uncomfortable? It was like snuggling a heater.

“Leg.” He whispered, and you rolled your eyes, complying anyway as you slotted your leg between his, further adding intricacy to your entanglement.

“Do you just want me to completely lay on you or are you good now?” You asked, barely bothering to hide your deadpan tone.

“Actually–”

“Shut up.”

It had barely been five minutes and you could feel yourself hanging precariously on the brink of sleep — brain switching off and yourself being consumed by the inevitability of morning — when Mat huffed, startling you as you briefly tightened your hold on him.

The action had your entire body jerking, heart pounding awfully in your chest and a short breath expelling from your mouth. Only for Mat to groan and fold in on himself.

The hand that had been enclosed around yours shot south and in the sudden movement you pushed yourself away from him and reached across to turn the light on, undoubtedly concerned. Your first thought was that he’d been sick again, but the light quickly illuminated a scene that, for a man, could only mean one thing.

His face was screwed up, half plastered into the pillow beneath his cheek, and both his hands were cupping the bulge in his boxers. His entire body had gone taught and when you touched his shoulder, attempting to roll him over somewhat, he let out a pained groan that bordered dangerously on the pornographic scale. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” You asked, slightly appalled, each ounce of sleep shot completely from your system.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, waiting impatiently for him to respond.

“Answer m—”

“You kneed me in the fucking balls, you bitch.” He fake cried, a hand slapping on his forehead as his other still clung to his dick.

You blinked, half expecting him to say he was joking. When that didn’t happen, you let out a loud laugh, hand going over your mouth as consideration for your neighbours managed to sneak through your brain.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He pleaded, fingers pinching his nose rather dramatically, which only seemed to make the entire situation even funnier in your mind, “It really hurts. I can feel my children withering inside me.”

That had your laugh breaking through the shield of your hand, and you had to bury your face in your pillow to muffle the sound. Mat was a funny guy, mostly unintentionally — like his actions; his unfiltered and unmanaged facial expressions when he sees someone pick something up off the floor and eat it (even immediately after they’d dropped it); his inability to listen to Waterloo by ABBA when driving because it ‘is very overwhelming’; or the things he says that you just know slip out of his mouth the very second he thinks it and then instantly regrets it. Your point is, Mat Barzal is hilarious in an endearing way, mostly because he doesn’t even realise just how amusing he is to watch out of the corner of your eye; he’s weird like that. 

So when he says that, you feel as though your entire reaction is completely justified because it’s just so wacky and damn honest that it startles you entirely.

When you calm yourself down, tears resting in your eyes, and turn your face on the pillow to look at him, your cheeks aching from smiling, he’s looking at you oddly.

Softly. With mild curiosity. As though he’s just smiling unconsciously and a little confused at why exactly you were reacting to him like that. 

His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were soft and you knew if he’d have covered the rest of his face you would have been able to know he was smiling just from the little crinkles gathered at the corner of his eyes. But the rest of his face was visible, and he was smiling that smile where his mouth was turned down — an upside-down smile, where he was trying to smother the bright grin on his face as best as he could.

You lived for those Mat smiles because it meant he wasn’t aware of how his face was presenting itself. It was Raw Mat, not having to worry about what everyone would think of the way he looked or reacted.

And with the soft glow of your light, you caught yourself, not for the first time, wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

The first time you’d done that was when he’d dragged himself out of his dorm on your birthday, after playing a brutal match he’d lost, body worn out and so, so tired you were afraid he’d fall asleep standing up, and turned up for you. His hair had been slightly damp from the shower, and his eyes were bloodshot with dark bags, and he’d smiled at you sleepily, given you a homemade cake and it was immediately after he’d said ‘I’m always gonna show up for you’ that you’d wondered what it would be like to just kiss him then and there, in all his adorable fatigue.

Mat was just soft, and probably the cutest and hottest person you’d ever met and known. And you’d not loved him more than you had in that moment when he was looking at you in that way, completely accepting of who you were, and loving you just as you were.

You’d never really felt that comfortable around anyone.

“What?” You found yourself asking.

His expression flickered, and something seemed to sober him up a little. His tongue swiped out to wet his lips, and for a second it did cross your mind that maybe he might have been thinking about kissing you too, in a friend-way (because friends did that, right? Just to know that they were definitely meant to be friends and were soulmates in the platonic way, not the other way), but then he frowned and started trying to pick a piece of fluff off from the sheets.

You ducked your head slightly, trying to catch his eye. 

“If you tell me what you’re thinking, I’ll let you cuddle me this time.” He didn’t react, and you felt a sordid pang of regret, “But only if you want to.”

His mouth lifted slightly. You took it as a win.

You waited patiently for a while, fighting and losing against the exhaustion that was beginning to claim you, but then he lifted his head up.

“I just feel like everyone I know is getting married.”

Oh. It was one of those sleepovers.

You swallowed, your arm going under your pillow and poking back out the other end, playing with the ends of Mat’s bed head.

You knew he was still drunk, that maybe this vulnerability was spurred on only by the confidence of the alcohol in his system.

“Not everyone.” You reassured.

It felt limp, and you didn’t even believe yourself. Mostly because you also knew what he was talking about, because you’d spent a few sleepless nights agonising over that fact, that maybe it was too late for you.

It kind of felt like a party everyone you know had been invited to but not you.

It was everywhere, like the worst kind of sickness.

Love. Marriage.

Kids.

Perhaps it was the kids comment after you’d kneed him that had him all pensieve and reflective all of a sudden. In any other situation that assumption would have made you smile, but truthfully, it was difficult to distract yourself from the dread that had settled itself in your chest.

“Feels like everyone.” He mumbled.

His mouth did that thing that he tended to do when he was unsure about something. It wasn’t a pout as such, but it vaguely resembled the expression of a kicked puppy, and you felt your previous elation dim rapidly. Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah.”

At your whisper of agreement, his head snapped up, and for some reason, the heat and sheer level of understanding behind his eyes had you reaching behind you to turn the light off, because you couldn’t stand the intensity of his gaze. It felt like you were being picked apart and put through an x-ray machine, like the ones in airports, but instead of suitcases it felt as though he was x-raying your entire brain.

“Are you jealous?” You whispered, slightly ashamed of your question.

“Yeah.”

There was a prick of relief. 

“Of what?”

He didn’t hesitate when he answered plainly, “That I’ll never find someone I love as much as some of them love each other.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing he wouldn’t see how that vulnerable admission would have pained you. You could have said that ‘of course you will’, but that kind of reassurance never sat well with Mat – he wanted honesty, definites. 

“You’re a very lovable person, and anyone who doesn’t realise how incredible you are off the ice is a complete fuckwit.” You mumbled, but upon hearing silence, continued, “Over half of marriages end in divorce, and a hundred percent of divorces are a result of marriages, so maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” You were beginning to smile by the end of it, through no feat apart from the fact that what you were saying, whilst true, was a ridiculous notion of trying to encourage him to crack a smile whilst simultaneously easing his doubts.

You knew you were right, even if he didn’t, because Mat was the most lovable person you’d ever met. There was something endearing about him at first, his clever mumbles under his breath when he was surrounded by strangers, but from then on, he’d only continued to grow on you.

It was just a shame Shiv hadn’t figured that out before she broke up with him a couple of weeks ago.

Nevertheless, your comment seemed to have worked, because his eyes briefly closed as his mouth twitched upwards. It wasn’t his usual cheeky grin, but it would settle for now.

___

The breakfast buffet was packed full of stumbling, hungover adults, blinking wearily and not-so-subtly wincing at each chink of cutlery against porcelain plates. One of them was sitting opposite you, his head resting in his palm – which, every now and again, kept slipping either with a lack of real effort and energy or due to fatigue and slips in and out of consciousness. His plate was full of eggs and toast, his glass filled with orange juice, and apart from the unfair ‘I just got out of bed’ messy hairdo he’d got going on, Mat was wholly and unashamedly hungover. 

He’d woken up once in the night and you had to shove the wine bucket back under his face, but it seemed only one of you was able to recollect that event, and it was you that was paying for it. It wouldn’t have been that much of a disruption if he hadn’t have spent twenty minutes dry heaving, claiming “I’m gonna–” every three seconds and if it weren’t for the fact that you’d made yourself climb out of bed to wash out said bucket again just in case, you wouldn’t be paying for such…exhaustion. 

The only win out of the entire thing was that he was having to deal with a murderous headache, a swirling stomach, dizziness and travel sickness from walking – and you got to watch it all with some amount of amusement because you had warned him not to drink too much, and he was paying for his actions in real time. 

You’d finished your breakfast a while ago, and had resorted to scrolling on your phone, but the sight in front of you was slowly getting your attention. Despite the hilarity of the situation, you were able to sympathise to some extent, because Mat had taken care of you on multiple occasions, so with the next gentle put-down of cutlery and the droop of his head, eyelashes indicating he’d fallen asleep again, you put your phone down on the table.

“Mat?” You whispered, mindful of his aching head. There was no response. 

After snapping a quick picture, you reached a hand forwards, to clasp around the wrist clutching the fork tightly in his hand. He was warm, the t-shirt he was wearing clearly not doing enough to cool him down. 

“Mathew?” You tried again, a little louder, taking the fork out of his hand. He stirred at the movement, lifting his head and blinking blearily. His eyes were red, and his skin was a little paler, lacking the usual flush.

He first glanced at the plate of eggs, then clenched his jaw and breathed heavily through his nostrils, the simple reminder of a plate of food making him nauseous, “Yeah?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You gotta eat the eggs.” You urged, picking up the knife and cutting the toast, making sure to scoop some eggs onto it, “They’re good for hangovers.”

His nostrils flared, and he crossed his arms, looking somewhere to the left of you as you raised the forkful up, “I think I’m going to be sick.” He muttered, resorting to sipping a mouthful of orange juice.

You stifled a smile at his blatant disgust, “You don’t have to eat it all.” Nothing. Fucking stubborn. “Look, I won’t let you leave this table until you’ve eaten at least half of it, and if you eat half of it, I’ll give you my eyemask, headphones and travel pillow on the drive back.”

His eyes slowly slid over to you, ensuring not to travel too fast out of fear he’d become dizzy, and you could tell he was considering your offer. He glanced between the fork, then to you, and after several repetitions of that action, you’d concluded that if you pushed the fork a little closer to his face, there wouldn’t be an issue in him accepting the food. So you did just that, and with few gags he managed to finish off at least three quarters of the plate.

It wasn’t until you were fifteen minutes into driving, Mat with his head against the window, eyes covered with your mask, wearing your headphones and his cap, that either one of you spoke. 

“Are you going to Lisa and Mike’s wedding?” He mumbled, breath momentarily fogging up the glass. His words cut through the stream of music you had going, and part of you startled at the sudden interruption, having been under the impression that he’d immediately gone to sleep.

It wasn’t until he lifted the eyemask off and slid the headphones off that you managed to gather yourself, answering him with a hurried, “Yes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nod his head fractionally, his mouth twisting into that all-too familiar expression, “What?” You demanded, that nervous tingle ricocheting through your hands. 

You could feel yourself tense briefly, knowing whenever he got that scheming, thoughtful flicker in his expression that he was about to do one of two things, both involving him asking a question that involved you: he was about to ask you to do something you weren’t going to necessarily agree with, or ask you a hard-hitting, deep question that would leave you both in an embarrassing silence for the rest of the trip back.

He took a deep breath, hesitating, and you switched off the music, unable to deal with the tense atmosphere he’d suddenly created with one fucking look, “Uh..” he breathed a laugh, “I was thinking–”

“Fuck me.” You muttered, pressing your lips together.

You really hoped he was exaggerating his own dramaticness.

“-That maybe we should go together to all these weddings?” He paused, and after a few seconds of your silence, burst out, “You don’t have to or anything, but I just thought it’d be a–”

“Fucking hell, I thought it was going to be something more serious than that.” You interrupted, flashing him an amused smile as he stopped talking, his jaw hanging open as he digested your words.

“Is that a yes?” He arched a brow, clearly confused at your reaction, or lack thereof.

You shrugged, turning the music back on but keeping the volume low, “Why…” You momentarily paused, “Why would we both want to subject ourselves to more weddings when they’re already the bane of our existence?”

“Because we’ll have each other for support.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, “Neither of us can really get through weddings without drinking. Times that by two, and it’s borderline unhealthy.” You were clutching at straws, and you knew you were, but there was something that just niggled the back of your mind when you thought about attending more weddings with Mat as your plus one. 

You’d both have the questions to answer, then the disbelieving glances when you told the truth, and the rest of the evening with people zooming in on something that didn’t exist. It wasn’t that Mat made you uncomfortable, but the attention he’d bring – only to be seen with you – would surely…change something? 

He straightened, taking a sip of water, “Please.” 

Oh, you absolutely were now. It was settled. Mat had a way of manipulating his voice to sound so wrecked and emotional that it physically killed something inside of you. You weren’t sure if he knew the particular effect it had, but as soon as he uttered ‘please’ with such conviction, you were gone for. 

He was still speaking, but the back of your mind was racking up the travel costs, hotel costs, drinks costs, and the amount of time you’d have to request off work – it was a good thing you didn’t have any other holidays planned, or that many days off sick so far; you could rack up the paid holidays unpaid holidays–

“I already told them I was going with Shiv, and now…” he trailed off, head almost swinging in your direction. You took a quick glance at him  out of the corner of your eye. Just as you were about to agree and put him out of his misery, he seemed to jump ahead, a twinge of panic in his tone, “My baby cousin is getting married before me. When he was born, I was eight. And when we were growing up it was all ‘oh, when are you and Shiv gonna tie the knot?’, and now it feels like they can’t talk to me without feeling like they’re pitying me. One mention of weddings and I get ten different people looking at me like it’s…an issue that I’m not married. Like they thought for sure that she was the one I was gonna end up with.” He took a deep breath and settled back into his seat, cheeks colouring as though he was embarrassed by the passionate outburst.

In all honesty, you were shocked it had taken him this long to say something. He dated Shiv for years. Even you thought they were going to end up marrying each other. When they broke up he ended up staying at your apartment with daily half-hour phone calls and FaceTime videos with Tito, who seemed so fucking torn about the whole situation, knowing the both of you could only work together to help him so much; he had to find a way to help himself eventually.

There was something about her not ‘being able to cope with his lifestyle’. You weren’t too sure of the specifics.

“Did you think that you were going to end up with her?” It was brave of you to ask. It shocked you that it was also the first time you even thought to ask him about it; you just assumed he did. 

Yet, judging from the way his eyes went straight to the road ahead, he was somewhat at odds with himself, “I don’t know what I thought.” He shrugged, surprising you, “At first, I thought ‘this is either going to end in marriage or be the worst breakup of my life’, but I think that wore off after a while. She was comfortable, and we were content. Not so much happy, but tolerating each other.” Then he sighed, reaching to fiddle with the eyemask, and you took that as a hint to leave the topic alone for the time being, “I did love her, but if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been putting off buying a ring for a while. I’m kind of glad I didn’t though, because things are starting to feel more right now than they have in a while. It hurts to admit that, but…”

You nodded, proud he’d spilled what had been playing at his mind, “So this wedding deal – are we going to be colour matching–”

“Thank fuck.” He whispered, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thanking you for this–”

“Just shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.”

He adhered to the former, but didn’t immediately act on the latter. He was smiling, probably more than you’d seen him smile in a while, and you knew you wouldn’t come to regret the decision one bit. Mat was one of your best friends, as childish as that sounds, and if it meant taking some of that weight off him at your expense, you’d probably do it whenever you could.

“I love you too.” 

You shot him a glance at the words he’d said, cheeks blazing. He knew you did.

[itsnotgray]

all three of the brothers have their own nicknames for phoebe:

luke called her “phee” for the longest time, until he got to the age of 14 or so and thought he was too big to be calling her “phee”. but sometimes, when he’s having a rough time, he still comes up to his sister and lays his head in her lap. she always gives him a look, before a plea of “please phee?” leave his lips and she folds, hands gravitating to his hair- because she’ll always give in to her baby brother.

quinn started calling her “bee” when he was really young. like his friends (kindergarten-1st grade friends) thought her name was bee. to this day, he still calls her bee, although not as often. it’s a bit more of a “special occasion” nickname now.

like quinn, jack also called phoebe “bee”. however he has one name that he calls her above all else- “jen”. jack calls her jen because when he was about 6 years old, he was making a family tree for class and the teacher pulled up phoebes name to spell it for him. he saw her middle name, imogen, and when he tried to ask her about it after school, the only part he could remember is “jen”.

so when her and mat start dating, she kinda forewarns that her brothers are protective over their respective nicknames- so mat takes a different route. he takes her middle name- which he knows she gets shy about, claiming it to be the “name of a grandma”.

however, mat instantly grins at her and is like, “that’s it!” and phoebe is confused. “what’s it?” phoebe asks. “your nickname, i thought of it!” he enthusiastically replies. “…dare i ask?” phoebe questions while giggling, coming to stand in front of mat, her hands cupping his cheeks gently. “how about immy?” mat questions, head tilting like a confused puppy in the soft grasp of her hands. phoebe stands stunned for a moment- because did he just make her like her middle name? and once she comes back to reality, she shoots him a grin while saying an, “i love it matty,” before dipping down to meet his lips in a soft kiss, both parties grinning in to the lip-lock.

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Life As We Know It | Part 21

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69​

Tagging: @thirteenisles​ @matbaerzal​ @mcmo-anon​ @texanstarslove​ @matbarzyy​ @hockeywocs​ @ggggmoneyyyy​ @tysonjost-taylorsversion​ @toplinetommy​ @fiveholegoal​ @itrocksmysocks​ @joelsfarabee​ @barzysreputation​ @iangiemae​ @stlbluesbrat​ @c-tangerine​ @canadianheaters​ @jeylia-haj​ @roopehintz​ @dreamsndior​ @beauvibaby​ @2manytabsopen​ @nazdaddy​ @sorryjustafangirl​ @fallinallincurls​ @pastelpapermoons​ @hockeybabe87​ @kayt-marie​ @heatherawoowoo​ @islesnucks​ @whoeverineedtobe​ @ohpuckyeah​ @tpwkstiles​ @mf-mightyducks​ @day-dreamerr​ @ficsilove10​ @notaccurateornice​ @rapidfever​ @hoodpankow​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @haylie-mcc​ @jostyriggslover96​ @newlibrary​ @honestreputation​ @the-philthepill13​ @justanotherfansblog​ @simpgirl-lat​ @hockeypuckspost @great-puck-work @yzas-stuff @sidscrosbyy @teenagekook @svechnikolan @lovethepreds @strong134 @dylancozzys @gravyoverall  @lena306 @caelum-the-part-time-acosmist @taiter-tots @canesjedi31 @kq9003 [let me know if you want to be added!]

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol. Sexual references?

Comments: I know this took a million years and I’m so sorry!!! I hope it’s worth the wait!!! Thanks again to everyone who stuck with this story despite it being WAY too long between updates. And remember, Beau is an Islander for life in this story 🧡💙

(c) nat g. 2023 // do not repost, do not claim as your own

Tess loved Valentine’s Day.

As long as he knew her, Tess had adored Valentine’s Day. Tess loved all the hearts and flowers and teddy bears and the idea of love that came with it. Not to mention, Tess had never really had a serious boyfriend, one that would spoil her with chocolates and roses and tell her 365 different reasons why he loved her. Anthony would be the first, and if he was lucky, her only, so he knew that he had to do something special for their first Valentine’s Day together; he knew he had to make it worthy of her. Even if he had never really been a fan of Valentine’s Day himself.

It wasn’t that Anthony didn’t like Valentine’s Day or had any personal vendetta against it. For several years he had played the boyfriend role perfectly with dinner and gifts and flowers, he just had never really been a fan of the holiday. Valentine’s Day marketed love and buying gifts to show that love, but Anthony firmly believed that, if you loved someone, truly loved them, you should show them every day, not just one day out of the year.

You should take them out to dinner just because, buy them flowers because the tulips reminded you of them, get them the bracelet or book or knickknack because you knew they’d like it, or go out because you love being with them. Love wasn’t something to expect or market, but something that should be given whole heartedly.

But Tess loved Valentine’s Day and he loved Tess with every ounce of his being, so he would make it the best damn Valentine’s Day he could.

The Islanders were on the road the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, so he had a lot of time to think about how he’d woo Tess. Most guys slept on the plane or played on their phone, but Anthony spent every second trying to plan the perfect day for Tess. And it didn’t take him long to realize that it was a lot easier to draw up a play than it was to come up with a Valentine’s Day plan.

Tess…

Tess was loving and kind and amazing and perfect and he knew how she used to dream of a perfect Valentine’s Day and happily ever after and he wanted to give her everything. He had let down a lot of people in his life, sometimes it felt like he still was, but he could never let Tess down. Come hell or high water, he’d do whatever he could to make her happy.

The plane wasn’t enough time to make the perfect plan, especially after he asked Barzy what his Valentine’s Day plans were and he shared a way too detailed description of all the different sex positions he was thinking of for him and Connor. “You know, the best thing to give a woman on V-Day is a mind blowing orgasm,” Mat said without looking up from his phone, and he only forced his eyes away from the screen when Anthony didn’t reply.

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s on the menu,” he finally replied.

“You guys still haven’t?” Mat asked at the way Anthony’s lips tightened and he winced when Anthony shook his head. “Damn, I really bought that pack of condoms for nothing…”

“We’re going slow,” he shrugged. “Tess asked for slow so we’re going slow, we’ll get there when we get there. I mean…” he took a deep breath. “She’s never even mentioned sex before, for all I know…”

Mat’s eyes bugged a bit, “you think?”

“I don’t know,” Anthony replied firmly. “So, we’re going slow. So, yeah, I’m not sure mind blowing orgasm is on the menu, but I could totally give her one if she wanted,” he added quickly when Mat opened his mouth.

He was quick to close it before he shrugged. “I mean,” he started. “Are you sure? It has been a while. I could refresh you on where the clit is and how to—”

“Mat.” His voice matched the sharp look in his eyes. “I know what I’m doing. And plus, I know Connor has you by the balls. She tells Tess everything and Tess tells me everything.” His smile grew as Mat’s flush did and he contently leaned back in his plane seat as Mat went uncharacteristically quiet.

Maybe one of the married guys would yield better advice for Valentine’s Day, Anthony thought as he closed his eyes. Like Nelly or Bails or Pager. They had to know how to get Valentine’s Day right if their wives stuck with them.

Anthony’s mind was still racing when they landed in Tampa, and he was distant enough during dinner that the guys noticed, so distanced and caught up in the thought of Tess that he didn’t even hear Nelly’s question.

“He’s still in the honeymoon phase,” Mat smiled brightly as he wrapped his arm around Anthony’s shoulders. “Tess consumes his every thought.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled and pressed his thumb into Mat’s ribs hard enough to make him yelp. “Like Connor isn’t the only thing on your mind.”

“Not the point,” Mat replied and tried to jab he back, but Anthony easily blocked him.

“Whatever,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “What was your question?”

Brock shared a knowing look with Anders before he shook his head. “I asked you what you were going to order.”

“Oh,” he whispered and felt his blush creep up his neck. “Um, the steak sounds good?”

“Yeah,” Brock nodded. “I was between that and the salmon.”

“Salmon would be lighter, depends on how the flight hit you, I guess,” he replied, but suddenly he was thinking of whether steak or fish would be better for him and Tess. Or maybe chicken. Or duck. Or—

“Beau,” Anders’ voice cut through his thoughts and he winced as he looked to his captain.

“I will have my head on for the game tomorrow don’t worry,” he reassured Anders.

Anders shook his head. “I’m not worried about that,” he replied. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, offer any advice if you need. I mean, it must be difficult balancing this new phase with Tessa while trying to juggle a 12-month-old, I think I speak for all of us when I say those are a handful on their own.” Those with kids agreed with a soft laugh and Anthony nodded.  

He knew he’d probably be chirped into next week for it, which is why he’d rather go to Anders or Nelly or Bails one on one, but he resigned himself with a nod, “Valentine’s Day is coming up and Tess adores Valentine’s Day and I want to make it special for her without it being cheesy.” When the table was quiet, he took a big drink of his beer and shot Mat a death glare.

It was Brock that broke the silence. “Flowers,” he said. “Girls love flowers, but not any kind, their favourite kind, that’s very important.”

“Yeah,” Anders agreed. “And you’re a pretty decent cook, aren’t you? So cook her dinner instead of taking her out, that shows you care, and girls find that romantic as fuck.”

“And jewelry,” Bails tacked on. “It sounds cliché, but they really do love it, if it’s good. Don’t get what you like, you have to get what they’d like, even if you don’t understand it. And for the love of God, there is a huge difference between yellow gold and white gold and do not make that mistake.”

Anthony blinked back at him as he nodded, “right, got it, thanks.”

“And don’t forget the condom,” Anders added with a wink and teasing smile that made Anthony rest his forehead against the table with a groan.

“One time,” he grumbled to himself. “One fucking time…”

“One time too many,” Mat cackled as he shook Anthony’s shoulder.

Once he got back to the hotel room, he stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed and Anthony looked up jewelry stores and florists between texts to Tess while Friends played in the background. He had always liked the show, but now it was an ever present reminder of her that made him love it so much more.

Planning the perfect Valentine’s Day kept him up at night and, despite his earlier promise to Anders, it took him longer than he wanted to admit to find his legs during the game the next day, but he finally came up with a plan and he only hoped it would live up to her expectations.

Luckily, the Islanders were home for Valentine’s Day, so the day began like any other: Tess wrapped up in his arms. Sure, she had her own room and own bed, but the only place Anthony wanted her was his arms. Once he knew how perfectly she fit in them, he’d never be able to let her go. So, Valentine’s Day began with Tess waking with her face pressed into Anthony’s chest and his arms wrapped around her and she smiled as she tried to snuggle closer. He had always been the best teddy bear she could ever ask for and she felt rather than heard Anthony’s laugh as he tightened his hold on her.

“Good morning,” he breathed, his voice thick with sleep.

“Shh, sleeping,” she mumbled and buried her face into further his chest, making Anthony laugh harder as he trailed his hand up and down her back.

“Okay,” he hummed. Tess made a soft sound against his chest and he tightened his hold on her. Perfect wasn’t a good enough word to describe her, she was his everything. His past, his present, his hope for the future, his family, his everything. All that he was began and ended with Tess. And Valentine’s Day meant a day off, so he was more than happy to stay wrapped up in Tess’s arms as long as she’d allow, or as long as Sorel would allow.

Which, of course, is exactly how the morning went.

He didn’t know how long they stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms before Sorel’s crying came through the monitor, but it wasn’t long enough. He loved Sorel more than he had words to describe, but sometimes all he wanted as an extra five minutes with her mom. They had spent longer, much longer, as friends and parents than they were as a couple and Anthony was desperate for any moment alone they could steal.

He hated jostling Tess when Sorel cried, but he knew it was long past her normal wake up time and she needed to be changed and feed. He murmured an apology when Tess groaned as he slipped out of bed before he went to get Sorel, and by the time he emerged from her room in a clean diaper and outfit, Tess was up. Her hair was messy and fluffy, and she had a sleepy smile on her lip and his shirt dwarfed her frame, all of which made Anthony’s heart flutter.

“Sit,” he told her and put Sorel in her highchair. “I will make you coffee and breakfast.” He smiled before he kissed her cheek and directed her to a chair at the island.

It didn’t take long for her coffee to finish brewing and he added the milk and sugar before he slid it across the table and started making his own. “Bacon and eggs?” He asked. “Or maybe waffles and berries?” He smiled when Tess’s face light up and reached under the island to find the waffle iron. He couldn’t remember the last time he used it and he hoped it still worked as he pulled it in and gathered the ingredients for waffles, and he gave Tess a hard look she tried to get up to get the fruit from the fridge.

He prepared the berries and fruit after he mixed the batter and the waffles didn’t take long after he added them to the iron. He added strawberries and blueberries to Tess’s plate, along with a mountain of whipped cream that made her laugh and he stole a kiss as he sat it down in front of her.

“Thank you, it looks amazing,” she smiled back at him.

“Not as amazing as you,” he replied without missing a beat and his smile widened as she blushed, and when his own waffled was ready, he added strawberries and banana.

Anthony tisked Tess when she reached for the dishes after breakfast. Today was her day, one of them at least, and he wouldn’t have her lift a finger, and he was in the middle of dishes when the florist knocked at the door.

The knock at the door surprised Tess and she furrowed her brows as she looked at Anthony but he did his best to shrug her off. “Can you get it?” He asked and she nodded before making her way over.

As soon as she answered the door, she was faced with a delivery boy and a large bouquet of flowers. “Delivery for Tessa?” He said with a smile.

“Uh, yeah, that would be me,” she replied with a confused expression and the guy handed her the big bouquet of flowers to her before he wished her a happy Valentine’s Day and got on his way. Tess was frozen for a moment as she held the flowers close to her before she took a deep breath in and her smile grew as she closed the door when she was able to give them a good look and smell. It was a bouquet of pink and red roses and lilies and other filler flowers and soft green leaves around the edges and, of course, beautiful white orchids.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he told her softly as he leaned against the counter and his shoulders softened at the way she smiled when she finally looked up at him.

“They’re beautiful,” she told him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied and pushed himself off the counter to step closer to her. “But they’re not as beautiful as you.” Tess opened her mouth to argue but he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “They’re not,” he repeated.

His smile grew at Tess’s blush and he got her a vase for her flowers so they could sit in the middle of the island, and they were more than happy to spend the afternoon together watching Sorel’s favourite TV shows and playing her favourite games. They were a family. Forever and always, they were a family.

When it was time, Anthony pulled everything out and started to prepared dinner before Tess could ever ask, and maybe pinot noir wasn’t the best pairing in the cookbook, but it was Tess’s favourite and her smile meant everything to him. He made her garlic parmesan chicken breasts with steamed veggies for a side. He wanted to refuse her help, wanted to make it special for her by doing everything for her, but he gave in every time she gave him her puppy dog eyes so he let her prep the veggies while he did the chicken and he couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it was to work around each other in the kitchen and how mundane it was.

Finally, the dinner was severed and Anthony smiled as he moved everything to the table. “After you,” he said and only took for himself after Tess had served herself and Sorel. And, to only mild surprise, the dinner was actually really good and Tess couldn’t stop shaking her head as she smiled.

“What?” Anthony asked with a soft laugh.

“I’m just really happy,” she told him. “I can’t count the times I thought about us spending Valentine’s Day with you and now it’s really happening.”

Anthony softened as he looked at her before he raised his glass of wine. “To us,” he said and smiled as she raised her glass too.

“To us,” she echoed and clinked her glass against his.

The rest of dinner was nice. Anthony talked about the roadie and his week ahead while Tess spoke of her plans with Connor and Anthony helped Sorel with her dinner which always made Tess look at him with soft, loving eyes.

Tess fell in love with Anthony years ago, but it was a totally different, deeper love watching him with Sorel. She always knew he’d be a good father, but it was something else entirely seeing how amazing a dad he really was. For so long, Tess had dreamt of having a family with him that it felt surreal to actually have it. There was so much love in her eyes watching him feed Sorel with a smile on his face and Tess meant every word when she said she had never been so happy in her life.

She finally had everything she could ever want.

After dinner, Tess tried to help with dishes but Anthony refused her help. So, instead she played with Sorel on her play mat while Anthony finished the dishes and then they started getting her ready for bed. Tess would have bathed her, but it was Valentine’s Day and dinner had been later than usual and Tess didn’t want to keep her up later than usual. Sorel really took after her dad and could get really cranky when she was tired so, yeah, her bath could wait till tomorrow.

Once Sorel was down, Tess changed into something more comfortable—one of Anthony’s old Islanders shirts and some sleep shorts—and she didn’t think twice about curling up next to him on the couch.

“I’ve never been a huge Valentine’s Day person,” he confessed softly.

“I know,” Tess replied and looked over at him. She had seen him through multiple girlfriends, as painful as it had been, and it had always been about what they wanted rather than about them.

“But I get it now,” he told her. “I like being your Valentine.”

Tess ducked her head as she leaned into him. “I really like being your Valentine, too, Anthony. I really like you,” she teased and Anthony kissed her temple before he gently carded his fingers through the ends of her curls, and he murmured an apology as his fingers tangled in her hair before he pressed another kiss to his temple.

When he pulled back, he held her eyes, her beautiful coffee eyes he fell in love with, before he whispered, “I got you something. I’ll just be a second while I get it.” Tess’s brows furrowed as she watched him get up and disappear into his room, but he came back a moment later with a big red gift bag and Tess’s shoulders relaxed.

“You didn’t have to,” she said softly.

Anthony gave her an almost offended look and handed her the bag before he sat back down next to her. “Like I’d fuck up our first Valentine’s Day,” he scoffed. “Now go on, open it.”

Tess laughed softly but opened the bag and she was surprised at everything in it. “Anth—“ she started but Anthony waved her off.

“C’mon, open it,” he encouraged.

Her eyes shined and the corner of her lips twitched up as she nodded and started to pull everything Anthony had stuffed into the bag. First there was a candle that smelt like vanilla. Then there was a set of bath bombs that Tess definitely didn’t think about using with Anthony and blushed when she sat them down on the coffee table. There were two sets of chocolates, and a Tiffany’s box. Just like the bracelet and the ring before, Tess’s breath caught in her throat and she looked up at Anthony. He worried his lip between his teeth but nodded and Tess looked down as she opened it and her smile softened immediately.

Had had gotten her a bracelet and a ring, it was only fitting that he got her earrings too. They were simple and beautiful, small silver, or maybe white gold, hoops with dangling pear diamonds.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Her heart twisted knowing she hadn’t gotten him anything thinking he didn’t care about Valentine’s Day and she put the earrings down to hug him, pressing her face into his neck as she tried to pour her love for him into the hug. Anthony’s eyes closed as he melted into the hug and he buried his face into her hair. “You’re welcome,” he breathed.

Tess pulled back from the hug after a moment and cupped his jaw to kiss him softly. “You’re making me feel terrible for not getting you anything,” she told him but Anthony shook his head.

“You’re the only gift I could ever want,” he told her and kissed her again.

Tess’s thumb ran over the arch of his cheek and she couldn’t stop smiling as she pulled back from the kiss and Anthony was so incredibly in love with her. Sure, they had only really been together for a handful of weeks, but they had been friends for years and he honestly couldn’t imagine his life without her.

Tess continued to run her thumb over his cheek and the soft look in his eyes stirred something in her. Her eyes dropped to his lips and she leaned into him before kissing him again, deeper than before. Anthony was taken back but he quickly melted into the kiss and let his hand rest on her hip.

He didn’t expect the kiss to last long so he let her control it, but Tess didn’t pull back. Maybe it was the wine or the gifts or the fact that it was Valentine’s Day, or maybe it was just Anthony, but Tess didn’t want to stop and when Anthony broke the kiss, she quickly chased his lips and kissed him again. Anthony made a soft sound against her lips that sent a wave of heat through her body and Tess pressed herself closer to him, as close as she could be still sitting next to him.

Anthony kept waiting for her to pull back but she didn’t. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his hair and let her chest rest against his. She wasn’t wearing a bra, she never really had to, so Anthony could feel her breasts and the hardness of her nipples against him and he couldn’t get enough. His neck strained as he deepened the kiss and Tess made a soft sound against his lips that had his hand moving from her hip to her thigh as he pulled her onto his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs bracing her weight as her hips rested against his.

Tess broke the kiss with a gasp and looked at Anthony with wide eyes. “Sorry… Is this okay?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the bare skin of her thighs, terrified he had read her signals wrong and had gone too far.

It took Tess a moment to answer as her heart raced and her lips parted as she looked at him. He was warm beneath her and she settled her weight on his lap before she ran her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah,” she nodded and kissed him again, pulling a soft groan from him.

Anthony let her control the kiss for a moment before he deepened it and pulled her hips flush against his and Tess couldn’t help the moan that slipped from her lips. It was the first time he heard her moan and it went straight to his groin and he wanted to pull more beautiful sounds from her. When she didn’t pull back from the kiss, he let his hands move to her ass and he gently kneaded the soft flesh. It would be so easy to grip her ass as she—

He shook the thought from his head as he nipped at her lip and moved his hands up to her waist. Her skin was warm and she kissed him again just as deeply as before which only spurred him on as he trailed his hands higher on her rib before he broke the kiss to trail his lips down her jaw. Never in his life had he wanted someone as badly as he wanted her and Tess threaded her fingers through his hair and titled her head to the side to give him move room as she moaned softly.

Anthony felt himself start to harden and in the back of his head he knew they should stop and talk about it. Fuck, he didn’t even know if this was something she had done before, but Tess wasn’t stopping him and he didn’t want to stop. All he wanted her.

His lips found where her jaw met her throat and he grazed his teeth over her skin before he sucked softly but not hard enough to leave a mark and he hadn’t realized his hands were moving up until the tips of his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts. Tess’s grip on his hair tightened and she tensed, pulling him from his thoughts and Anthony immediately moved his hands back down to her waist and leaned back to look at her. “I’m sorry,” he told her, his jaw slack and eyes dark.

Her chest heaved and her heart raced but she shook her head. “It’s okay.”

As much as it killed him, Anthony said, “we should stop.”

“No, Anthony, it’s okay,” she told him.

Anthony’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at her and the look in his eyes sent a wave of heat to her core where she could feel him beneath her. “You sure?” He asked breathlessly and Tess nodded, a soft throbbing starting between her thighs as Anthony held her gaze and trailed his hands back up.

He let the tips of his fingers brush the bottoms of her breasts for a few moments before he slid his hands up to cup her chest. Her breasts fit in the palms of his hands and her nipples were hard but not as hard as he was. He swore he had never been so hard in his life and Tess could feel every inch of him through his sweats and the thin material of her sleep shorts.

“Okay?” He asked breathlessly and Tess nodded.

“Yeah,” she replied shakily.

Anthony gave both of them a minute as he held her chest in his hands, feeling her heart racing against his touch. Tess’s chest heaved against him and his lips were parted as he held her gaze before he pinched her nipples between his fingers.Her eyes closed as she moaned louder than before and Anthony was addicted to the sound. His bottom lip was red and worn and a moan slipped from his lips when Tess rolled her hips into his. “Fuck, Tessa,” he said breathlessly and rolled her nipples between his fingers.

Anthony had always stirred something in Tess but he was doing a lot more than just stirring and she couldn’t get enough of him. She had been terrified that it wouldn’t be good, that it would be awkward, but she was wrong. It was amazing having Anthony touch her. Her hair was a mess as she arched into him and when she ground her hips against his, she pulled a strained groan from him that made clench around nothing.

The more Anthony pinched her nipples, the louder her moans got and it was the hottest thing Anthony had ever heard and he wanted nothing more than to take her apart and see how loud he could make her. But Sorel’s room wasn’t all that far away and they couldn’t wake her. “Tessa,” Anthony breathed. “I need you to quiet a bit.”

Her hips immediately stilled and she looked at him with flushed cheeks, “fuck, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Anthony replied immediately and pinched her nipples again, pulling a sharp gasp from her. “I just don’t want to stop so please don’t wake Ellie.”

Tess knew he was right, but it was so hard for her to be quiet when he was touching her like that and she could feel how much he wanted her. She rolled her hips down against his, creating beautiful friction which pulled a loud moan from her and Anthony tried to quiet her with his lips but he just ended up moaning against her.

Slowly he broke the kiss to kiss down her neck again as he pinched her nipples, pulling another moan from her and he was about to ask to take her shirt off so he could see her as well as he could feel her when the sharp sound of Sorel’s cries cut through the room.

“Fuck,” Anthony cursed and leaned his head against Tess’s shoulder with a groan before he let his hands fall to her hips. He was finally going to have her and of course Sorel had to ruin it. “Maybe she’ll cry herself out?” He tried and Tess nodded. But no matter how long they sat there, Sorel didn’t stop crying so Tess slowly untangled herself from him with a sigh.

Her hair was messy and her skin flushed and all Anthony wanted to do was ruin her.

“I’ll get her,” she told Anthony and gave his thigh a pat before she made her way to Sorel’s room, leaving Anthony alone on the couch. He ran his hand over his face as he sunk into the couch, his desire for her clearly visible through his sweats. He had been cock blocked before, but never like this.

And Sorel was usually so good so he expected it would be a quick check in and put down, but the minutes ticked by and Tess didn’t come back out. Anthony groaned and threw his head back against the couch before he got up to check on them, after he adjusted himself of course.

He found Tess swaying with Sorel in her arms while Sorel gripped her shirt tightly. “She doesn’t want to let go,” Tess sighed as she looked over at Anthony.

“You were pretty loud,” he replied softly. “Maybe… Maybe she thought I was hurting you?”

Tess couldn’t help but burst out in laughter as she blushed, but it… It wasn’t that far fetched at all. Ever since they got together and Anthony had been showing more affection toward Tess, Sorel had been getting fussy with Anthony and pushing him away, so it wouldn’t be that hard to fathom that Sorel did think he was hurting her mom… Even if he was doing the opposite.

Anthony sighed and stepped forward to take her from Tess, even if he had to gently pry her fingers from Tess’s shirt. “Daddy wasn’t hurting mommy, okay? Now why don’t you go back to sleep so mommy and daddy can go back to what they were doing.”

“Anthony!” Tess scolded as she gave him a pointed look but he just shrugged. And, of course, Sorel only cried louder as Anthony held her and reached her hand out to Tess until she took her back.

It took them too long to get Sorel back down, she really didn’t want to let go of Tess, but once her door was closed behind them, Anthony let his hand trail down Tess’s back as he bit his lip. “So…” he started. “Where were we?”

Tess took a deep breath and scrunched her nose up before she looked up at him and she didn’t have to say anything for him to know the moment was long gone. “It’s late,” Tess told him. “Tonight was fun, but I’m tired and honestly I think I’m getting a headache from the crying and I just want to go to bed.”

Anthony took a deep breath as he nodded, “yeah, yeah, of course.”

Tess gave him a soft smile and kissed the corner of his mouth before she gave his chest a pat and went to brush her teeth, and Anthony flopped onto the couch with a groan as soon as she closed the door.

He loved his daughter dearly, but fuck.

It had been over a year since the last time he got any and it was Tess and he could still feel her on his lap, the warmth of her against where he needed her most, and how perfect her breasts were in his hands. Tess was perfect, he had always known that, but feeling her, hearing her, having her like that… He hadn’t realized how truly perfect she was and—

“Are you okay?” Tess asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He replied, looking up at her like a deer in headlights.

Tess laughed and gave his thigh a pat as she sat down next to him. “I asked if you were okay because you were staring out into space,” she said.

“Oh,” he replied softly. “Yeah, I’m good. I mean, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little… frustrated, but yeah, I’m good.”

Tess blushed and looked down as she fiddled with her shirt. “Sorry…” she said softly but Anthony shook his head.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” he told her. “We tested the waters tonight and it was good, right?”

Tess nodded, “yeah.”

“Then we’re good. And you should never apologize for being as hot as you are. If anything, I should be the one apologizing because I’m probably going to end up hard against your ass tonight.”

He made Tess laugh at least and she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she told him after a long moment.

Anthony softened and wrapped his arm around her, “I love you more.”

“Not possible,” she told him and kissed him before he could argue. Anthony melted into the kiss and gently cupped her cheek. She could disagree with him all she wanted but Anthony had never love anyone the way he loved her and he knew he’d never love anyone else the same way.

It was Tess for him.

It was always going to be Tess,

His Tess.

She bit her lip when she pulled back from the kiss and Anthony tilted his head as he looked at her, knowing she had something in mind and already feeling like he wasn’t going to like it. “Tess—” he started but she cut him off as she patted his thigh.

“We need to tell our parents about us.”

Anthony’s groan may have even been louder than her moans and he leaned over to press his face into her lap, “please don’t talk about my mother when I’m still hard.”

Tess’s laugh warmed his chest and she gently carded her fingers through his hair. “Sorry,” she whispered. “But we do, you know we do.”

“I know,” he sighed and rolled onto his back to look up at her. “You know they’ll never let us hear the end of this, right?”

Tess breathed a laugh and let her hand rest on his chest and Anthony was quick to cover it with his own. “I know. But we need to tell them before they figure it out themselves, and my mom’s gonna know the moment she sees us. Connor did.”

Anthony ran his thumb over her knuckles as he gave her a lopsided smile, “love me that much, huh?” He laughed when she scrunched her nose up and when she shoved his chest, he tightened his hold on her hand and leaned up to catch her lips in a soft kiss. “I love you that much, too, Tessa.”

She scrunched her nose up again at the use of her full name and to still the butterflies he still gave her. “So, we’ll tell them then?” She pressed.

“How about we tell yours and leave mine till the summer?” He tried and Tess shook her head.

“Mine first, but we’re not waiting till June to tell your family. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your parents.”

Anthony scoffed and pushed himself up to sit beside her, his hand on her thigh. “Please,” he started. “My mom loves you almost as much as I do. I could tell her we eloped and she’d just be happy to have you in the family.” Tess could see the gears begin to turn behind Anthony’s eyes and he continued, “now that I say it, we should wait until—”

“Absolutely not,” she cut him off. “We’ll tell my mom first then you’re calling your parents to tell them.”

“What if I send her a picture and turn my phone off?” He suggested, though mostly just to rile her up some more, finding her persistence adorable.

“What if I didn’t kiss you until you told your parents?” Tess replied without missing a beat and bit her lip as she looked over at Anthony, proud of herself.

“You wouldn’t,” he breathed as his face dropped. He was right, she wouldn’t. Now that she had had a taste of him, she didn’t she’d ever be able to give him up. But Tess shrugged and Anthony made a strained sound in his throat before he pulled her back onto his lap and kissed her again. “Now that I’ve had you, I can’t go a day without you, so, okay. We’ll call my mom after we tell yours.”

Tess’s smile lit up his whole world and when she kissed the corner of his mouth, he cupped her jaw and redirected her so he could kiss her properly and deeply. She made a soft sound against his lips and fisted his shirt as she felt him again. “Anthony,” she breathed a warning and he pressed his face into her shoulder with a groan.

“I know, I know. I can’t help it,” he told her. “You just do things to me.”

She blushed as she shook her head before she patted his shoulder and pulled back to sit beside him. “TV until your friend calms down and then bed,” she told him and reached for the remote. “We’ll tell my mom the next time we see her.”

Anthony rolled his eyes but nodded, “fine.”

And he was right, even after watching TV he ended up hard against Tess’s ass that night and the next morning, but this time he didn’t pull back and Tess didn’t get flustered or push him away.

---

Tess was right, Lisa knew as soon as she saw them.

It was on Anthony’s face.

It had always been in his eyes. The last couple times they had come over, he had looked at Tess with hope and possibility, but this time… This time it was different. He held the door open for her and let his hand rest on her lower back as they toed their shoes off, and his touch lingered as Tess stepped toward Lisa with Sorel in her arms, and she just had a funny suspicion.

“How’s my grandbaby?” Lisa asked as she took Sorel from her daughter and Anthony ducked his head as he smiled.

Sorel giggled and Tess smiled before she glanced back at Anthony for a moment. “She’s good. Been having some issues sleeping through the night, but she’s good,” Tess replied and blushed softly as she remembered the exact reason Sorel hadn’t slept through the night the week before.

Lisa kissed both of Sorel’s cheeks as they moved into the living room. “Issues sleeping, baby girl?” She asked Sorel in a playful voice that made her laugh again. “What kind of issues?”

“Wake up in the night, crying, that sort of thing,” Tess shrugged as she sat down on the couch and Anthony sat down next to her and gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze, though whether he was reassuring her or himself was up for debate.

“Oh,” Lisa hummed as she looked at Sorel. “Have you tried putting socks on her for bed?” She asked and looked back at Tess and Anthony.

Tess looked over at Anthony and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “No, we haven’t,” he replied. “But we certainly will,” he quickly added. “Thank you.”

Lisa pressed another kiss to Sorel’s cheeks and looked back at her daughter and Anthony. They were sitting closer together than normal and his hand rested on her thigh and Tess didn’t knock it away or seemed to have a dark blush to her cheeks like she’d always get. She watched as Tess pushed her hair behind her ears, a long time anxious habit, and Anthony looked over at Tess at the movement.

Lisa had seen Anthony look at her daughter a lot. She had watched his gaze go from friends to something else; watched as his eyes went from hope and possibility to confidence and sure. His thumb rubbed soft circles on her thigh and the corner of his lip twitched up as he looked at her even though Tess wasn’t looking back at him, and Lisa watched as his gaze dipped down to Tess’s lips for half a moment and his smile grew.

Lisa smiled as she settled Sorel on her lap. “So how long have you two been together?” She asked, making Anthony’s head whip toward her and neither of them had to say anything for her suspicions to be confirmed, Anthony’s deer in headlights look said it all.

Slowly, Anthony looked back at Tess and she covered his hand with hers as she smiled before she looked back at her mom. “Almost a month,” she answered, making Lisa’s smile grow.

She always knew her daughter’s feelings for Anthony, Tess had had them for years. If she was being honest, she wasn’t always fond of Anthony with him being a hot shot hockey player and all. She was terrified that he was going to break her daughter’s heart beyond repair, but she had to admit that he had really proven her wrong over the years and she was glad he did. She was happy for them.

“We came here to tell you, but…” Tess continued and looked at Anthony. “You kinda figured it out.”

“Anthony kinda made it obvious,” Lisa laughed and scrunched her nose up as Tess gave Anthony a playful shove that made Tess’s smile grow.

“I knew it,” Tess muttered and Anthony smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“No, you didn’t, you thought you’d give it away,” he replied as his smile widened.

“Shut up,” she muttered and leaned into him in a way that definitely said she wasn’t mad at him.

“I’m very happy for you,” Lisa told them. “The two of you…” She glanced at Sorel before looking back at them. “You’re good for each other.”

“I try to be,” Anthony replied without hesitation. “I just want to look after my girls.”

Lisa’s smile softened as she looked at him and she kissed Sorel’s cheek before she set her down on the carpet and Anthony gave Tess an unsure look as Lisa disappeared into the kitchen, but Tess could only shrug. She didn’t know either. Lisa was only gone a moment before she came back with a bottle of wine and three glasses. “This calls for celebration,” she grinned as she set the glasses and bottle down on the coffee table and Tess pressed her face into Anthony’s shoulder as she groaned. “Well, it’s not every day my daughter starts dating an NHL player.”

“Mom, please,” Tess begged and Anthony gently ran his hand up and down her back.

“What?” She asked as she poured the wine and handed the glasses to them before she settled back into her chair with her glass and crossed her legs. “Can a mother not be happy for her daughter? And come on, I want all the details.”

Anthony laughed at the very large drink of wine Tess took and kissed her temple. “There’s not much to say,” he answered for her. “It was after Ellie’s birthday and I couldn’t stop looking at her and I just couldn’t keep my feelings to myself any longer.” His gaze softened as he looked over at Tess and she smiled despite the blush clinging to her cheeks.

They continued talking over their glasses of wine while Sorel played on the floor, and it honestly didn’t take long before Anthony ended up on the floor with her, managing only a few sips of wine between Sorel and the conversation. And once it was time for Sorel’s afternoon nap, Lisa headed to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner while Tess took Sorel up for her nap.

Anthony followed Lisa, picking up his and Tess’s glasses along the way. He was happy to help however he could and he washed the veggies as Lisa pulled everything else out. She thanked Anthony as she took the veggies from him but shooed him away when he tried to help.

She had just started to half the cherry tomatoes when Anthony took it upon himself to refill her wine glass and Lisa gave him a soft smile before she put her knife down and turned to him. Anthony’s smile slipped at her expression and he put the bottle down before he leaned back against the counter. “I meant it when I said I was happy for you two,” she started, making Anthony take a breath, sensing a ‘but’. “But she’s still my daughter, and without her father…” Lisa sighed before she shook her head and pushed her chin back up. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

Anthony breathed a small laugh and nodded. “If I hurt her, I’d let you,” he told her honestly. “But I don’t intend to do that, I promise.” He looked down at his hands as his smile softened. “I’ve never felt this way before, and I know we’ve only been together for a month, but I mean it when I tell you that I hope to marry her one day.”

Lisa softened and she nodded as she stepped closer to him and she gently squeezed his shoulder, “I hope you do, too. But that doesn’t change my warning. I like you, more than I ever thought I would actually, but she’s my little girl.”

His expression softened as he nodded. “I know,” he whispered. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“Good,” Lisa nodded and squeezed his shoulder again. She knew he meant it when he said he wanted to marry Tess, she could see it in his eyes, and though it was early, she meant it when she said she hoped he would. She could still remember the first time she realized she wanted to marry Tess’s father and her heart ached as she pulled back from him.

“And while I have you, don’t get me wrong I love Ellie, but I do hope that you and Tess are using protection. I’m not ready for another grandbaby,” she continued and Anthony’s eyes bugged as he flushed and he opened and closed his mouth as he looked at her, struggling to find his voice as Lisa turned back to preparing dinner.

And, naturally, that was when Tess stepped into the kitchen and she slowed in her steps as she took in her boyfriend’s flushed appearance before she looked to her mother. “What are you two talking about?” She asked slowly, not sure if she really wanted to know.

Lisa gave her an innocent smile that made Tess’s heart drop to her stomach. “I was just making sure you two were using protection,” she replied simply and Tess felt her heartbeat in her ears as she blushed.

“Mom,” she said sharply.

“What?” Lisa asked with a shrug. “One grandbaby is enough for at least another year. Then maybe you two could start trying for another. You don’t want to have them too far apart in age, you know.”

“Mom,” Tess begged, unable to look in Anthony’s direction, but Lisa’s smile only grew and she watched her daughter carefully as Anthony reached out to pull her close and Tess pressed her face into his chest, unable to meet either his or her mother’s gaze.

Young love, Lisa couldn’t help but think to herself. Such a beautiful and precious thing.

[delayed-affection]

Fresh Cut

Navigation   Oneshots

Mathew Barzal x reader

Warnings: petname (Honey)

Word count: 0.8k

Mathew has this gravitational pull for everything; women, men, dogs, hockey sticks, pucks, etc. So it was no surprise when he got a stick to the face during tonight’s game.

What was surprising was the amount of blood that was running down face. And of course it would happen in the game you couldn’t go to.

You could only watch as he was help off the ice, a rag pressed to the cut.

He comes back out on the ice to finish the game, letting you and everyone else know that it wasn’t a big deal.

~

You now stand in the kitchen making dinner for the two of you, knowing he should be home any second now.

You check the oven and the stove to make sure everything is cooking as it should be. You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the kitchen, and you begin to set the table for the two of you.

As you wait for him to arrive, you ask yourself if you made the right dish. You know he loves Italian food, but you also remember he's been craving a good burger lately.

You hear the door open and you turn around to see him walking in.

You smile and say, "Welcome home."

He greets you with a kiss and a hug, and you can tell he's hungry by the way he's looking at the food.

You pat his chest, “Why don’t you go change, I’ll have everything finished when you’re done.”

He mumbles an okay while placing a kiss to your forehead.

Finishing up the dishes you set them on the table and wait for him to come back.

He joins you at the table, sitting across from you. He goes to run his hand through his hair but touches the cut. He then smiles at you. It’s one of his cheesy smiles that makes his eyes crinkle.

You smile back at him, “Do you need something?”

He shakes his head, “Can a man not admire such beauty?”

You laugh softly, “Not when the man is hurting.”

He rolls his eyes and states, “I am not hurting.”

You roll your eyes in return, “You winced and tried to play it off with a smile, I’ve seen you do it before.”

He shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

~

After dinner the two of you move to the living room. You sit cuddled up into his side, watching him as he watches the tv.

You look over the cut covered in butterfly closures, it’s swollen but not too much to make you think he’s in absolute agony. And if he is he’s pretty good at hiding it.

He adjusts his arm around you, “Staring at it isn’t going to make it heal faster.”

You shrug, “You never know.”

He chuckles, “It’s my face, honey, I think I know.”

You bring your hand up to his face, your touch is ghostly, “Does it still hurt?”

“No, it stopped hurting a while ago.” He tells you

You hum in response, lowering your hand back into your lap.

He looks away from the tv and over to you, “You know, there’s no need for you to be worried about me.”

You brows furrow lightly, “Who said I was worried?”

He uses his free hand to stroke your cheek, “It’s written all over your face, hon.”

You sigh leaning into his touch and ask, “Can you blame me?”

He smiles, his eyes filled with love, “No, not at all. Ad if I’m being honest, I like when you’re all worked up and worried about me, it’s cute.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Glad you find that cute.”

He lays down on the couch pulling you down with him, “I mean you’re always cute, but this makes you cuter.”

You shake your head and give him a quick kiss.

He sighs contentedly and lets his head fall onto the cushion, “I love you.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “You won’t after I make you put ice on your cut.”

You move to get up but he pulls you back into him.

“No, no ice.” He tells you, “I’m fine.”

“It’s swollen, Mat.” You state

“Nothing a good nights rest won’t fix.” He claims, “And the doctor said I was fine, so no need to worry.”

You move your head to look at him, “Let me help you.”

“You’re helping me by just being here.” He replies rubbing your back, “And if it hurts or it’s bothering me, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I better be.” You tell him, letting you head rest on his chest.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, finding this all endearing.

The two of you fall into comfortable silence, the only sound comes from the tv. Your eyes begin to grow tired, he’s body heat helps lull to the brink of sleep.

“Hey, Mat.” You whisper not wanting to interrupt his show.

“Yeah?” He responds

“I love you too.” You mumble

[cellythefloshie]

【ｃｏｍｉｎｇ　ｓｏｏｎ】 Below the cut is a current list of my WIP's

500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION - CAN'T FIGHT THE MOONLIGHT - vince dunn x reader 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION - SO GOOD - adam x charlie COOL FOR THE SUMMER - SERIES - andrei svechnikov x oc 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 FOUR'S A CROWD - multi!player x reader HIGH INFIDELITY - SERIES - tom wilson x oc/reader x vince dunn IT'S MY PARTY - mat martin x reader LIPS OF AN ANGEL - adam x charlie MR STEAL YOUR GIRL - vince dunn x reader x andrei svechnikov NANNY DIARIES - SERIES - tj oshie x reader x undertermined player OVER NOW - vince dunn x reader OUT OF THE WOODS - vince dunn x reader ROAD WIFE 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 ROAD WIFE AMENDMENT #1 - various players ROAD WIFE ONE SHOT - ross colton x reader STEAL MY SUNSHINE - ross colton x reader UNTITLED - adam x charlie UNTITLED - jeremy swayman x reader UNTITLED - brendan lemieux x oc, joel farabee player x oc UNTITLED - ross colton x reader UNTITLED - brady skjei x reader UNTITLED - vince dunn x reader/oc UNTITLED - vince dunn x reader UNTITLED - vince x samantha UNTITLED - mat barzal x reader UNTITLED - ross colton x reader UNTITLED - ross colton x reader WPG ROAD WIFE - SERIES - Winnipeg Jets 2024 Christmas Special

*list is written in alphabetical order not in order of priority **series posts include all encompassing chapters but does not include oneshots ***includes fic in varying stage of development updated 2024-02-05

[adorethedistance]

Black and White - Mat Barzal x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, mentions anxiety, almost pg13

Words: 1385

Summary: After attending one of the isles’ many fundraising events, a simple walk in the park turns into a moment the two of you will never forget.

A/n: I’m like 90% done with finals and so I’m filling this anonymous request  as a result. I hope y’all like this quick little fic and as an update there’s a fluffy Zegras fic in the works. 

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Mat says from behind a fleeting scoop of bubblegum ice cream. The Islanders fundraising gala was fun and all but Mat and I dipped out before closing remarks in favor of grabbing ice cream before Baskin Robbins closed. So now we’re walking around a random park, black tie attire, in the cold Long Island night.

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m your girlfriend. Being your plus one is part of the gig, and I’m more than happy to do it.” Mat lets go of my hand to lift his arm and gesture me over. I gladly accept the warmth as I’m nearly freezing from walking around at night in a light coat while eating ice cream. He hugs me into his side and kisses my cheek gently. I breathe a small laugh as his lips are still cold.

“How do you know if you want to marry someone?” Mat asks out of nowhere. I hesitate for a second, jarred by his candidness.

“Are you asking me specifically or like the general ‘you’?”

“I’m asking you specifically.” I pause to collect my thoughts and Mat watches me carefully.

“...Well…I think for me specifically…I want an equal relationship where I feel like I lean on them as much as they lean on me for support. I want someone who respects my boundaries and knows I’m their partner and not their therapist. Whoever it is will get along with my family and at the very least tolerate my friends,” we share a small laugh amidst the tense moment. “I want someone who understands how I give love and helps me understand how to give them love and- why are you looking at me like that?” Mat barks out a nervous laugh. He takes his arm off of my shoulders and messes with his hair a bit. One of his nervous habits that I’m not sure he realizes he has.

“Do you think… I meet those requirements?” I hesitate but only because I’m trying to remember everything that I said.

“Yes, I think you do.” Mat smiles relieved before taking my hand in his own once more, placing a kiss on the top of it. We continue through the park, heading back to the car when a sudden flash of light catches our attention. Looking to the source, we see that a gazebo covered in christmas lights had previously not been lit. I snap my head around to look at Mat and the look on his face tells me he already knows just how excited I am about it.

“I don’t know how I didn’t notice this before!” I say as I’m pulling Mat along with me. His pace was too casual for the kind of urgency this sight has instilled in me. As we get closer, someone stands up and I stop in my place. I don’t want to impose on someone else’s time with the pretty lights. Opening my mouth to speak, I immediately cut myself off when I recognize the not so unfamiliar stranger.

“Beau?” I ask when he turns around. He looks at me, slightly panicked. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh my god, no way!” I hear a woman’s voice from behind me and Mat. I turn around to see it’s Emma emerging from a weird angle. She’s coming at us from behind rather than from the parking lot or from the shops.

“Long time no see,” I joke, happy to see our friends despite just spending the last three hours with them. “What’s up? Are you guys also on a walk… at the same park?” Beau and Emma share a look before she gestures him over to where she’s standing.

“Yeah, I was telling him about this gazebo because I drove by one night and the lights were just so pretty I wanted to show him.”

“Gotcha. Well if you want, I can take some cute pictures of the two of you!” I offer happily and Emma and Beau share another look.

“That… would be great, thank you! Beau?” She looks at him and nods over to the gazebo. He looks at Mat with the most confused look I’ve ever seen.

“You okay?” I ask as Emma hands me her phone. She has to physically walk over and grab Beau which snaps him back into reality.

“Yeah I’m good,” he replies quietly and walks into the gazebo. Emma barely poses and I’m about to snap the third photo when she breaks away and walks over to get her phone from me.

“That should be good, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I only took like three-”

“Yeah, no, we’re good! Your turn!” She says urgently and nudges me toward the gazebo. I decide not to push back and when I turn to beckon Mat over, he doesn’t follow.

“I’ll hold your coat so you can get outfit pictures first.” I reluctantly nod and then shrug off my jacket. Why is everyone being so weird?

“You gotta hurry because I am FREEZING!” I instruct Emma and she laughs before nodding.

“Copy that.”

“Okay, I want full fit and shoes for some and then just waist up in the others,” I speak quickly before posing and trying not to shiver violently. “Fuuuuuucckk it’s so cold.” All three of them laugh at my dramatics. Mat shakes his head amusedly and then hands my coat to Beau so he can get in the pictures. He wraps an arm around my waist for a few pictures and Emma snaps approximately two before putting on her director hat.

“Okay, Y/n stay where you are. Mat can I have you stand to the side of her but take a tiny little step back?”

“How should I pose without him…?” I ask skeptically. I don’t think I can see the creative vision and I hope Mat is also a little lost so I don’t just look like an idiot. When I turn to see if he’s also puzzled, I don’t get the moment I’m hoping for. Rather than sharing a confused look and laughing about it, I find him placed just out of my line of sight on one knee with one hand tucked into his jacket pocket.

My eyes go wide for a millisecond before welling up so full of tears that I can no longer see. I hold my right hand over my mouth to keep myself from crying harder. Mat has small tears in his eyes as he holds a small velvet box the color of the Isles signature blue.

“Y/n… you are the love of my life. I remember the first time you came over to my apartment. It was date number four. I made us dinner and you went to the bathroom and when you came back you were very anxious.” I laugh through my tears as I recall the evening and how the story went.

“You were acting weird the entire night and when I asked what was wrong, you were silent for a minute before asking if I “actually” used 3-in-1 shampoo. I laughed so hard I nearly cried and from that moment on, I knew you were endgame.” His simple word choice makes me laugh and the swelling of emotions in my chest makes me forget just how cold I was before.

“Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?” I begin to sob so uncontrollably that I can’t speak so I just nod an emphatic yes. Mat smiles brightly before taking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto it’s permanent spot on my left hand.

I don’t even wait for him to stand up before grabbing his face and kissing him with the passion only two people madly in love could ever know. He kisses me back and places his hands on my waist. Emma and Beau cheer and I remember they’ve been here the whole time.

“You motherfuckers! You knew, didn’t you?” They laugh at my outburst and confirm my suspicion. Mat rises to his full height and when he’s standing I playfully shove his chest. “That’s why you were being so weird today!”

“How does it feel to be engaged, man?” Beau asks and Mat huffs a long sigh.

“I don’t know, I think I blacked out.”

[matwith1t]

A/N: I’ve been constantly surrounded by wedding talk so here’s me venting via fic!! A good vent!! It successfully brought me out of my writing slump!! Very happy for people celebrating marriage!! ‘Tis also been a while since I’ve written, so I’d love any & all feedback! Work is kinda slowing down, so I’m hoping to have more writing time / being more active on here ✨ Thank you all for your kind messages!!

Summary: Snippets from your relationship with Mat that lead up, and all come together, to one of the most important days of your life. 

MASTERLIST | Mat Barzal x Reader | LET’S CHAT 🥂 |

Warnings: None!! // WC: 7.2K // Fluff

Brittle leaves crunched under your boots: burnt orange, smokey red, and canary yellow. The earth created its own mosaic amongst leaves as you breathed in the thin, crisp chill autumn air.

A biker passed on your right and the hand in yours––gloved fingers entangled together––pulled you closer into his side.

Tilting your head back, slightly constricted by the borrowed scarf wrapped multiple times around your neck, you smiled softly, “How much longer?”

You could see his laugh, swept away by the wind in an instant, “We’re almost there.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I mean it this time.”

A snort sounded from you, “Surprisingly, that doesn’t ease my doubts.”

Mat squeezed your hand firmly through his glove, “We just have to walk over this bridge,” he nodded his head toward the creek, a wooden bridge built for traveling across, laid just ahead. “And after that, it’s a five minute walk.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes gazing at his side-profile. Despite growing up in Canada, Mat did not fare well in cold weather. And New York held no care for his low weather tolerance. While the complaints came endlessly from him, you could only admire the way the tip of his nose flushed in a rose color from the wind. His cheeks also shared the same  tinted blush. Or, you found yourself admiring the flecks of hair that stuck out from his beanie.

The bridge creaked under your footsteps, along with more crunching leaves. The reflection of golden and red hues painted the stream of water that flowed steadily beneath the bridge. And then you looked up at the sky. Cream colored clouds swirled into the powder blue sky. Two magpies flew through the air together.

Stillness.

Everything you felt in this moment came from the pure feeling of contentment. Content with the brisk weather. Content with the relaxation this Sunday morning walk brought you. Content with the man walking next to you.

Content in love.

Exiting from the thoughts in your mind and returning to reality, your vision shifted from the sky to an even more beautiful sight of Mat with a small, affectionate smile that made his eyes shine bright.

You offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, the trees looked nice.”

You didn’t say anything about how the distinct feeling in the air reminded you of the love you felt for him.

Mat shook his head, disregarding your apology, “If you want, we can stop and look at the trees.”

“We’ll be late.”

Again, Mat shook his head and tugged your hand over to the wooden rail of the bridge. He dropped your hand and raised his arm to pull you into his side. On instinct, your head rested on his chest and you breathed in a scent more enrapturing than the outdoors on an autumn day; him.

The two of you stood in silence admiring the natural colors of nature. And while you wanted nothing more than to encapsulate the colors of the leaves, the sound of water trickling over rocks, and the scent of autumn mingled with Mat, all you could focus on was the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Once you acquired enough sights and senses of the setting to keep locked up in your memory forever, you told Mat that you thought it would be best to keep walking to the coffee shop. When you received no response from him, you shifted under him and looked up at him through your eyelashes. And like how he stared at you when you appreciated the colors on the trees, he was already looking down at you with that same affectionate smile.

But there was something different about this smile. Maybe because you stood closer to him, and could carve out a detailed print of the small dimple in his left cheek. Or maybe, you felt the way his heart rate increased under the palm of your hand. Perhaps it came down to the gentleness his eyes radiated.

“We should probably get going,” you said.

“We should.” He responded, but made no movement.

Neither of you wanted to leave, but you knew he didn’t want to arrive late.

You curled into his chest, burying your head into his jacket as his arm wound tightly around you. The gentle kiss he pressed to your forehead caused a swarm of happiness to swirl around your entire body.

Mat pressed one more kiss on your forehead, and whispered, “Let’s go.”

He picked up your hand, led you over the bridge, as you tried your hardest to retain everything about the moment you shared on the bridge.

True to his word, it only took five minutes to walk to the coffee shop from the bridge. Mat raised his eyebrows in an I-told-you-so brag, as he held the door open for you to walk through. With a roll of your eyes, you softly punched his shoulder in jest, but plucked your glove off the second you entered the store to slide your fingers between his.

You spotted your mother immediately, dragging Mat between tables until she looked up from her phone with a smile. Dropping his hand, you pulled her  into a hug the moment she stood up.

Breathing in the scent of your childhood, you apologized, “Sorry we’re late.”

Your mother squeezed you tight before letting go, resting her hands on your shoulder, “Barely. Only by five minutes.” She smiled at you before turning to face Mat, her smile never faltering, “It’s so good to see you, Mat.”

Mat wiggled his nose, sniffling away the dryness, as he smiled at your mom, “Not as good as it is to see you.”

“Always the charmer,” your mother rolled her eyes with a laugh and stepped forward to embrace him.

Once pleasantries were out of the way, Mat offered to get everyone’s drink. After a failed protest from your mother, you knew better than to argue with Mat. But he already knew your order and would have bought your drink no matter what.

And with a smile, he took off his beanie as he walked to the counter.

You sat in silence with your mother for a few moments as she stared at you with a knowing smirk. You tried your hardest to keep a blank expression, but then memories of standing on the bridge flooded your mind. You broke eye contact with her, head turned down to face the table, as you felt your body heat up and a smile break through on your face.

“I––“

“Not a word.” You snapped your head up to see your mother with an even larger smile than yours.

You could see how difficult it was for her as she tried to keep her thoughts to herself. Accepting your request, she nodded her head. But you could see the thoughts in her mind swirling about in the eyes you inherited from her.

Your mother glanced quickly to the right––you followed her eyes––and saw Mat tapping his card on the contactless device. She leaned forward, “Can I say one thing?” She sounded like a child on the school yard with a secret that everyone already was privy to, except yourself. Again, she glanced over and saw Mat trying to pick up all three drinks from the counter, “Please?”

Timing it so that she wouldn’t have much time, you waited until Mat had the drinks securely in his hands. And that’s when you nodded to your mom, releasing her from her own torment.

“You look really happy,” she whispered, “And so does he.”

No words articulated how stunned you felt at her astute observation. And your mind wandered to the bridge; and you smiled again, confirming your mother’s words.

“Here we are…” Mat said as he passed everyone’s warm drinks around the table. He took a seat at the head of the table, sitting between you and your mother.

Conversation started with your mother asking Mat about hockey. Even though you had dated Mat for a little over five months, it was the most natural ice-breaker. Mat then proceeded to ask your mother how things were at home. And from there, conversation flowed naturally with jokes sprinkled around.

“I came across this at your grandmother’s house,” your mother dug around her purse as she explained the reasoning for meeting up, “And I thought you’d like to have it.”

She pulled out a white box, corners tattered, but the lid slid easily off the box and revealed an oval necklace. Eyes wide, you looked up at your mother who gestured you to pick it up. You set the box aside on the table, slowly cupping your hand underneath the gold plate, and lifted it up to examine.

No more than half an inch in width, encrusted around the edge was a Celtic knot. But the necklace felt a smidge heavier than anything you had worn around your neck. You looked up at your mother again, but this time out of curiosity.

She smiled and nodded down to the necklace, “It’s a locket.”

Vision darting back down to the necklace, you saw a hinge slightly protruding from the left side. Hastily, you wedged the nail of your thumb between the two connecting locket pieces. And with a faint snap, the locket opened.

On the left, a black and white photo of your grandfather cut to size. And on the right, a black and white wedding photograph of your grandparents.

“It’s an old antique locket,” your mother said, “Your grandmother said you could have it.”

Unsure of what to say, you carefully shut the locket. Staring up at your mother, she looked happier than ever. You tore your vision away from her to look at Mat. He shared the same expression as your mother.

“You should wear it,” your mother laughed softly.

You nodded, “That would be––Yeah––A good idea––“ You unclasped the chain, but struggled to find it behind your neck, “––Mat? Can you help me?”

As if he wanted you to ask him for help, he stood up from his chair so fast he nearly tumbled out of it.

His cool fingers brushed away the small hairs at the nape of your neck, not wanting to catch them in the chain. His knuckles brushed ever so slightly behind your neck. And when the clasp connected in the back––the cold locket landing right below your collarbone––he softly stroked his thumbs down your neck once…twice…three times, before removing his touch all together and returning to his seat.

His hands caused shivers to run through your entire body.

“Be careful with it,” your mother warned, “It’s something old, so be mindful where you wear it.”

You picked up the locket, rubbing it between your thumb and index finger as you looked up at Mat.

He had that same smile on his face. The one when you looked at the trees. The one you saw up close and could make out the richness of his dark eyes filled with happiness; adoration.

Circling your hands around the warm coffee cup that didn’t hold a flame to how Mat made you feel, you took a sip of the drink and shyly returned his smile.

Something old.

––

Jiggling your hand on the door handle of Mat’s apartment from the outside, it came to no surprise that the handle easily moved downward. Breathing out an irritated, heavy sigh, you pushed through his front door, ready to chastise him about how he should take more safety precautions and lock his door.

As you opened your mouth to call out to him, a blaring beep beep beep of the fire alarm ceased your moment.

Setting your tote bag on the ground, you shut the door––locked it––and walked further into his place. The haziness clouded your vision as you waved your hand to clear away the smoke. The further you walked, the worse the smoke became. And like his unlocked door, it came to no surprise that the culprit who set the fire alarm off currently sprinted across his apartment––opening up every window––as he left the burning frying pan, that continued to unleash heavy black smoke, on top of the stove.

Standing frozen in bewilderment, you felt a rush of air as Mat whizzed past you to get to the living room.

A moment later, you felt another rush of air, and Mat stood in front of you, “Hi.” He grimaced, but quickly bent down and pecked your lips, “Give me one second.”

He sprinted off again.

You stayed still in the hallway, barely processing Mat’s greeting amid the commotion.

Blinking, your mind finally registered that the fire alarm continued its harsh sound, and headed straight for his kitchen. As quickly as Mat ran around his place opening windows, you dashed for the kitchen, turning the stove burner off. Without thinking, you knelt down to take a dish towel out from beneath the sink, and wrapped it around the handle of the frying pan.

The black, char-like burning remnants of food smelled repulsive. Extending your arms to their full-length, you leaned back as you carried the still smoking pan out to Mat’s balcony. With the pan set on the ground for the outside to handle, you ran back inside to the fire alarm.

Mat looked hazy through the smoke, but you could make out the scrunch of his worried brows and wild eyes, “What’d you do?!”

“I took the pan outside,” you waved the dish towel in front of the fire alarm, praying it would clear up the air.

“It was still burning!” Mat joined you at the fire alarm, with his own dish towel, and began to rapidly wave it.

“Exactly!” You raised your voice over the alarm, “The first thing you should’ve done was turn it off––“

“You carrying it was dangerous,” he matched the volume of your voice, “You shouldn’t have–––“ the fire alarm stopped, and like his shoulders, Mat’s voice dropped, “I should’ve done it.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Can’t do anything about it now.”

He wanted to say more, you could see it in his eyes, but he closed them. Inhaling a deep breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled the same time he opened his eyes.

A soft gaze with a familiar smile; like the one he gave you at the bridge half a year ago.

“How was work?”

Your shoulders sagged as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, “Not the best, actually.”

Knowing you never liked to talk about work after you had a rough day, he stretched out his arms and you took it as an invitation to walk forward. The dish towel dropped from your grasp as your arms wrapped around his waist. He held you tight, head buried into the crook of your neck, as he placed gentle kisses at the base of your throat.

The stress of work would stay with you, but standing in Mat’s arms as he comforted you, made all of the outside forces of your relationship less daunting.

“Let’s order takeout,” Mat mumbled and you felt his words reverberate against your skin, “I tried baking that dish you like. Got the recipe from your mom, but as you can see…”

His voice trailed off at the end and you stifled out a small chuckle.

“Takeout sounds perfect.”

After a few more moments of silence standing in each other’s arms, Mat called your favorite restaurant in his neighborhood and ordered dinner. And within the hour, you sat on the couch with Mat––your calves stretched out on top of his thighs––with takeout containers on your laps, as ESPN plays softly on the television.

Conversation ebbed and flowed as the two of you ate dinner, and when Mat leaned over your legs to place his empty container of the coffee table, he drummed his fingers on your kneecap; lost in thought.

“Be right back,” he lifted your legs up easily, placing them where he sat seconds before, and walked into his bedroom.

Before you had any time to think why he disappeared, he returned empty-handed. Lifting your legs up, he sat back down in the place he was before, and rubbed the fabric of your jeans that covered your shins. Remaining silent, you wanted to ask about the contemplative look on his face, but like how quickly he re-appeared from his room, he beat you to speaking before a thought formed in your mind.

“You know that place I was looking at in Dumbo?”

You nodded. You had visited the loft with him a few months back.

A renovated two-bedroom artist loft with exposed brick, and a few walls painted an off-white. Oak hardwood floor covered the entire place; you envisioned a light colored, blue and cream, handwoven rug placed in the center where Mat wanted the living area. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, with a steel-framed skylight to bring in natural light.

The place was perfect.

And with Mat’s anxious eyes and lip biting, your mind thought the worst. You removed your legs from his lap and leaned up, and placed a hand on his thigh, “Did you not get it?”

Bewildered at the conclusion you jumped to, Mat blinked a few times, lowering his head before looking up at you; a hopeful smile.

“I got it.”

Your eyes widened and you threw your arms around his shoulders, “Oh, Mat! That’s amazing.” You felt his arms wrap around you, and you lifted your head to look into his eyes, “When do you move?”

Instead of the excited spark that lit up his eyes, they reverted back to the anxious look. He rubbed small, comforting circles along your back as he swallowed, “That’s what I want to talk about.”

Your heart stopped. Why would moving be something he wanted to ‘talk about’ with you. The loft was a bit further away from where you lived now, but you didn’t mind extra travel time to his place if you meant you got to see him. It was still Brooklyn.

Trying to conceal your nervousness about where the conversation could lead to, you reached up and brushed his fallen hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear, “What do––I mean––Yeah?”

He smiled softly again and grabbed your fidgeting hand, sliding his fingers between yours, “You like the place, right?”

“It’s nice,” you said. Voice tight.

As someone who tended to retreat into their mind at any given time, you truly wished your thoughts fared better than worse case scenarios. Mat was going to move; and he was moving further away. For certain, you could pinpoint the moment you materialized a future with him. Unfortunately, you weren’t a mind reader, or else you would have spared yourself the hurt that would’ve mangled your soul and not progressed a relationship with Mat.

Distance was somewhat common in your relationship. The distance between your current apartment now, and his. Distance whenever he left for a long road trip for away games. Physical distance was ever present since the beginning of your relationship, but never have you felt any emotional distance. Yet again, you were only knowledgeable about how you felt.

Mat never liked to admit defeat, but maybe he was giving up on his stubbornness; and him creating more physical distance was an easy excuse.

A tug on your sleeve released your mind from tortuous thoughts, “Move with me.” He said in one breath, hand tightening around yours, “That place––We can live together.”

Your head snapped up, staring into hopeful eyes, your guilty mind retracting all previous doubts your friends planted in your head whenever they asked why you two didn’t live together yet. Pleasantly, it wasn’t what you expected to hear from him, “What?”

Mat winced. “If you want?”

His voice raised an octave, cringing at himself for sounding so unsure of his request.

He wanted to live with you. He wanted you to move into a new place with him; not move into a place that he already claimed as his. He wanted to create a shared space, one where you had just as much input as to what cabinet pots and pans laid in. A decision on what bed sheets to purchase together. A place where you come home to him, and he to you.

“You want a home with me?” You said. Voice tight; this time, not out of fear, but from trying to hold back the scratchiness at the back of your throat, caused by your teary eyes.

Mat rolled his eyes at you like it was the most obvious observation in the world. He shifted on the couch, hand reaching into the back of his jeans, pulling out a silver key.

“I want so much more with you, but we’ll start with a home.”

Something new.

––

More often than not, Mat’s family traveled down to New York to watch him play hockey. And in the year and a half you had dated him, the Islanders only played a handful of games against the Vancouver Canucks. Playing against the Canucks in Vancouver always elated him, since it was an easy way to travel home to see family and friends.

The last time he played up in Vancouver, the Islanders lost, but he came back radiating pure joy.

I might’ve been on the other team, Mat mumbled into your hair, your head buried into the crook of his neck as he trapped you in a one-arm side hug, but I definitely got the loudest cheers. And on the car ride back to your shared apartment––home––Mat promised to bring you up to Vancouver for a game.

And now, standing a bit misplaced at baggage claim in the Vancouver International Airport, you checked your phone once more at Mat’s last message: Be there in 15 minutes. Saw some friends at the bar and lost track of time.

He said that twenty minutes ago.

Before you took off from J.F.K. Mat told you he and some old friends were going to a bar in downtown Vancouver before your flight landed. You said that it would be no problem to figure out the public transportation system, but Mat promptly responded with––What kind of boyfriend would that make me if I didn’t pick you up. He constantly reassured you that picking you up would be no problem.

But now, you couldn’t help but dissect every anxious thought running wild inside your mind about how you took him away from friends he didn’t see as often as you.

You fiddled with the bag hanging off your shoulder, fake checking to make sure all of your possessions were inside the bag; as if strangers in an airport cared about anything but their own belongings. In the middle of one of your fake checks, your phone buzzed.

Traffic was worse than I thought, but I’m right outside now.

A smile pulled at the corners of your lips, shoulders dropping with ease, at the thought of reuniting with the person you loved most surpassed your previously anxious notions.

One hand gripping the handle of the suitcase, you followed the signs that directed you outside. After a few moments of looking for Mat’s car, you saw him. Leaning up against the passenger door of the car, arms crossed over his chest as he scrolled on his phone.

As if he sensed another presence, he lifted his head, and his eyes immediately landed on you.

A near identical smile mirrored his face; full of affection, a satisfied look in both of your eyes now that you only stood feet away from each other. And when you reached him––luggage forgotten––the smiles exploded off each other’s faces as your arms circled around his waist.

A deep breath in––you couldn’t tell if it was yours or Mat’s breath––filled your body with comfort. A sense of belonging, a connection that unequivocally felt like your home; fulfillment.

Mat kissed the top of your head, “Missed you.”

“I missed you more.” You said, taking another deep breath of him in.

“Impossible.” Mat laughed as he tightened his arms around you before letting go.

He took your roller bag bag by its handle and picked up your carry-on bag, slinging it over his shoulders, as he brought them to the trunk. You followed him. After not seeing him for nearly two weeks, standing in his presence felt rejuvenating, and you couldn’t think of an excuse to not be with him.

Once he closed the trunk, he spun around. His eyes, still full of fondness, but now shared the company with a look of desire. Absent-mindedly, you followed the invisible pull you felt towards him and stepped forward.

Mat gently placed his right hand on the side of your neck, fingers positioning themselves at the base of your neck, cradling your head. Your eyes closed. Foreheads pressed together. You barely felt his breath fan your face before his mouth found yours. Your hands rested on his chest, one of your hands finding a home right above his heart. His left hand gripped your waist, tender and assertive; a paradox. Your flat palms slowly curled around his shirt, gripping the fabric tighter every time Mat deepened the kiss; more of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

Nearly two weeks apart shouldn’t have felt like an eternity. You had been separated from him before––had been separated for a longer stretch of time––but something about this felt different. You couldn’t place a why or a how of the peculiar feeling, but it didn’t matter in this moment. Mat’s kisses impeded your ability to form a coherent thought, except for one word; more.

His right hand barely slipped underneath your shirt, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your skin.

More.

His lips continued moving over yours, poignant and demanding kisses.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip before pulling away, his mouth wandering to your jaw. Then to your neck, causing your toes to curl. And now, delicate lips repeatedly pressing against your clavicle as if muttering a sacred prayer, while your thoughts were anything but scared; another paradox.

Your fists unclenched his shirt the moment he removed his lips from your skin, lifting his head up to stare at you. Skin prickling, body flushing, you did your best to smooth the wrinkled spots on his shirt. Everytime your hand brushed a spot near his heart, its beating quickened.

“I think I definitely missed you more,” Mat smirked.

With a roll of your eyes, you fell into him again; a barely there press of your lips against his before rounding the car and slipping in the passenger seat.

The drive to Coquitlam was longer than you expected, but Mat filled the car ride with stories about his childhood. And soon enough, he was making familiar turns through his neighborhood and the car was parked in front of his childhood house.

His mom hugged you first when you walked through the door.

“It’s so good to see you again,” she wrapped her arms tight around you, swaying side-to-side a few times. “Mat, take her things up to your room,” she looked at her son over your shoulder.

Without any complaint, he easily carried your bags up.

His mother led you into the kitchen, asking questions about your life in New York. You helped her take out some snacks from the fridge, setting it up on the granite countertop of the island, as the two of you caught up since the last time you’d seen each other. Mat came down shortly, grabbing a glass of water and sat on a stool next to you, listening as you spoke with his mother.

You glanced at him a few times––eyes dancing between his mother and you––as he kept silent, enjoying witnessing you and his mother build upon the pre-existing relationship. Every once in a while, he spoke up, but he mainly observed.

When Mat’s mother excused herself to retrieve something she found in the attic, Mat snuck a few more kisses with you. It felt very juvenile; fast and head spinning kisses that lingered on your lips as he periodically broke away, head turning towards the hallway  to make sure his mother wasn’t anywhere near. And then he would go in for more kisses.

You heard his mother walking down the stairs before him and pulled away. But his lips traveled a path up your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You had no desire to stop him, but when you knew the footsteps were just about to round into the kitchen, you pressed your palms against his chest and pushed him back.

Mat sat up straight, away from you, but your hands were still pressed against his chest when his mother nonchalantly walked in with a box.

She either didn’t see anything or didn’t want to say anything, so she kept quiet as she placed the box on the counter and opened the lid.

A musty stench emitted from the box that contained blue ribbons, gold and silver trophies that gleamed beneath the bright kitchen lights, old hockey team photographs with worn down edges, and a few mis-matched skate laces.

“I thought you got rid of all of these,” Mat spoke in awe, rifling through the contaminants of the box.

“A few people in the family wanted to sell them on EBay.” His mother’s tone was comical, but softened when Mat whipped his head up with horrified eyes. “That was a joke.” Then added, “I would never give these away, they’re your memories.”

He nodded, like a small child listening to a lecture by a parent, and then went back to rummaging.

He’d pick up a photograph, a red ribbon––or anything else he found worthy of a story––and give you an entire lesson on it. His mother spoke up occasionally, keeping Mat in check with some of his overly embellished stories. But mostly she kept silent, observing with prideful eyes; shining between her son and you as she witnessed the love you both had for each other.

“Don’t forget about this,” his mother dug around the box and pulled out a single, slightly dirty hockey skate lace. She dangled it in the air and handed it to Mat, “Your grandfather’s.”

Mat chuckled as he held the lace on both ends, extending it to its full length. He turned to you, “I brought this everywhere––”

“Religiously,” his mother piped up.

Mat nodded in agreement, “It was my good luck charm. I don’t know why, but whenever I had it, something good always happened so I brought it everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Your eyebrows raised.

“First hockey tryouts, spelling-bee’s, championship games,” his tone serious. He dropped his gaze back down to the lace and twirled it around, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I thought it was lost.”

“It’s been in this box the whole time,” his mother said with a comforting smile. “You should lace one of your skates with it for the game.”

Mat shook his head ferociously, “Can’t risk it.” He had recently bought new laces and the Islanders haven’t lost a game in the two weeks he’s had the laces. But the more he looked down at the lone lace, the more he yearned. He picked his head up, eyes boring into yours, “You bring it to the game.”

“What?”

“It’ll be good luck,” he handed the lace over, and you had no choice but to take it, “Obviously you’ll just borrow it for the game, but I want it to be there. And I want you to hold onto it.”

You twirled the old lace that held so many memories for Mat––that most likely shaped him into the man he was today––and it felt like a weight of responsibility. You gulped, “I’m sure your mom would want to hold onto it.”

Mat’s mother curled her hand on top of yours, encasing the string in your grasp, “You should hold onto it.” She patted your hand and picked up her glass of water for a sip, “It’s just for the game.”

Eyes wide in worried, you looked over at Mat who only seemed to marvel in the aspect of you holding onto his old lucky charm. You looked over at his mother again, who eloquently smiled at you and Mat.

“If you need to borrow it for anything else,” she took another sip of water, “Let me know.”

Something borrowed.

–––

As skilled as he skated on the ice, Mat had an awful sense of rhythm when dancing.

You sucked in another deep breath, eyes screwed shut, as his black dress shoes stomped on your blue heels.

“Sorry.”

Opening your eyes, you noted genuine regret on his face, but that didn’t discredit the pain that zipped through your toes, “That’s the sixth time you’ve stepped on me.”

Sheepishly he ducked his head, pressing it against your forehead. With a hand on your hip, he pulled you closer to his chest; and with his other hand holding yours slightly in the air, he squeezed it, “I’m really sorry.”

You breathed out a small laugh, not caring about how many times he stepped on your feet. Even if he continued to step on your toes thirteen more times, you would choose everyday for the rest of your life to relive this day––with him––again.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, releasing the hand on your hip for a moment to twirl you around the center of the room. The song you both chose together continued to play, although you couldn’t hear it with how loud you could hear the beat of your heart through your ears.

Camera clicks.

Family, friends, and loved ones crooned with affection.

Another pain shooting through your foot where Mat stepped on your toes.

“Don’t you dare say sorry,” you pinched his shoulders.

Mat rolled his eyes, “Do we count this as our first fight as a married couple?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I was just asking a question,” Mat spoke with love interlaced through every consonant and syllable, “Mrs. Barzal.”

You only held the last name for a few hours, but your body reacted with chills of giddiness. Because that name was yours now, and so was he.

You felt your body heat up and buried your head into his sofly rumbling chest.

“So tell me…” Mat whispered as his fingertips trailed up and down your back, on top of the dress fabric you dreamed of since you first imagined your wedding, “I noticed my grandfather’s hockey lace tied around your flowers, but what are the other things that go along with that rhyme?”

More camera clicks.

More affectionate crooning from family, friends, and loved ones.

But this time, you purposely stepped on Mat’s toes as he referred to your very carefully, thought out plan as a rhyme.

“My something old,” you tilted your chin down to neck, “The locket my mom gave me––”

“The day with the trees,” a noise of acknowledgement came from the back of Mat’s throat, “I decided I was going to marry you that day.”

You remembered that day there was something different about his smile. Even though you stood so close to him on the bridge that day, so close––that even now––you could sketch him perfectly, but you didn’t know what the smile meant. And since then, it’s the only smile he’s given you. But you recognized the smile now; one of being wholeheartedly, unequivocally devoted to the person who stood in front of him for the rest of his life.

Hot tears pricked behind your eyes because deep down, the more you reflected on that autumn day with the trees and falling leaves, you wanted to have forever with him too that day.

“You better put a photo of us from today in the locket,” Mat said with fictitious authority.

You nodded, “Was planning on replacing the photo of us I already have of us in there with one from the wedding.”

This time, it seemed as though Mat was rendered speechless. He never asked what you had in the locket. You could tell he wanted to ask, or that he wanted to be in there himself, but he refrained from speaking up because he thought maybe you kept your grandparents’ photo in there. But you never told him that the day after your mother gifted you the locket, you scaled down the size of a photo from your first New Year’s together, and placed it in the locket.

You cleared your throat, “Something new,” You slightly shook your head side-to-side, the small silver hoops you wore for earrings moved slightly. “It’s––Technically, this is the first time I’m wearing them and I got them made specifically for the wedding…” you suddenly felt embarrassed, but Mat pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

He chuckled, “Go on.”

“They’re the keys from our first apartment together.”

Perplexed, he scrunched his eyebrows together as he raised a hand to reach for one of the earrings. Gently, placed the palm of his hand behind the earring, having it on his hand before feeling the smooth material between his thumb and index finger.

“That’s––Wow, I can’t––I mean, how?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, embarrassment fully setting in now, “I took my key, your key, and the spares to someone who did custom jewelry and asked if they could make them into earrings.”

“When?”

“After you proposed,” you shrugged your shoulders, but that didn’t do away with the growing feeling of stinging behind your eyes as that day came back in flashbacks, “You told me you wanted so much more with me that day and I––” chin trembling, you sniffled, “I couldn’t get rid of those keys.”

His thumb swiped under your eye, not even realizing that a tear slipped from your eye. But when you blinked away your watery eyes, you could see Mat’s eyes almost as misty as yours.

“I made good on that promise.”

You nodded, afraid that too many words would be the catalyst for the tears that collected in your eyes.

“Your lucky hockey lace was my something borrowed,” you inhaled a shaky breath, “Felt like I needed extra luck today.”

The corner of Mat’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, “Thought I was going to get cold feet?”

He was joking. He laughed. It was all in good nature. You had his last name. You had the engagement ring he bought you. And you both wore wedding rings. Everything was finalized––legally and ceremonially––for your marriage, but even him mentioning not showing up to the wedding after it already happened, caused your heart to drop.

Your hand went stiff in his, and Mat immediately noticed. His face slightly dropped in panic, and he pressed a chaste, but lingering kiss to your lips.

Another camera click.

Another croon of endearment from family, friends, and loved ones.

Another soft kiss pressed to your lips.

“I love you,” Mat said earnestly. “Nothing would ever make me change my mind about marrying you.”

You knew that to be true. There were no qualms, no anxiety, and absolutely no second thoughts when Mat bent down on one knee and you said yes. And you knew the same to be true for him.

“And is your blue the shoes?” Mat looked down, opened his mouth to say something, but promptly shut it when he looked back at you.

When Mat derailed his thought, it only made you more curious. With your voice barely above a whisper, you questioned him, “What?”

He shook his head and continued to dance with you, visibly relaxed from the previous conversation.

For the second time during your first dance as husband and wife, you pinched his shoulders, “Tell me.”

“You won’t get mad?” He nervously asked. When you shook your head, he prepared himself for the worse, already wincing, “Everything else seems…sentimental, like it has a real meaning. But the blue shoes…” his tone sounded weary, “Seems like a cop out.”

Amused with his guess at your something blue, you threw your head back in laughter before resting your head on his chest, trying to calm down. And like that autumn day you stood on the bridge and gazed at the trees with your head on his chest, you felt his heart beat intensify.

“The blue shoes are a cop out.”

“What…” Mat thought carefully on how to phrase his question. He didn’t consider the outcome of you confirming his theory about the blue shoes. “What do you mean?”

Feeling audacious, you smirked, “My blue is only for you.” He still looked clueless. “The blue shoes are visible and people automatically think that it’s part of the rhyme,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s a simple way to avoid telling people the true blue.”

“As your husband,” He pretended to puff out his chest, clearing his throat, “Care to let him in on the blue that’s only for him?”

Leaning up, you made sure that your chests were pressed together, your cheek resting on his as you whispered, “The garter.”

He tensed, “Won’t people see it with the garter toss?”

You hummed, “That’s why there’s another one under there, a decoy.”

His breathing pattern altered, and from how well you knew him, you knew he was trying to control himself, “How will I know the difference?”

“Easy, the decoy is a regular white one. But yours,” you let your fingers trail along his tailored jacket, “It’s a royal blue garter, like the color of the Islanders.” His shoulders tensed with every word you spoke, “There’s some white lace on the trim––”

“Lucky me.”

“That’s not all, I worked very hard with a designer to customize it.” You glared at him for interrupting. He bowed his head, eyes darker than usual, intrigued by what else there was to a piece made specifically for him. “Along with the royal blue and white, you’re forgetting another color––”

“Orange.”

His voice darkened, lowering in pitch. You could tell he wanted nothing more than to know how you incorporated that color into the piece of lingerie.

“In the middle, stitched in orange, is the number thirteen.”

Mat stopped dancing, his entire body frozen in the middle of the wedding reception; everyone’s attention on the two of you.

The music ended.

More camera clicks.

More applause and whistles from family, friends, and loved ones as the first dance between husband and wife came to an end.

“Thirteen,” he said slowly, calculating his words, “My number…You’re wearing my number––thirteen––right now. Under your dress. On the garter.”

“Yes.”

“So while I’m under your dress, in front of everyone,” The fierceness in his eyes fought with the look of absolute fascination, imagining what laid beneath, “I’ll see thirteen on the garter.”

Watching his face morph from awe to greediness in the span of seconds, you nodded your head, “Yes.”

“You’re wearing my number…” His voice faded, as if midway through he couldn’t believe he was vocalizing a thought he had fantasized about countless times; his number on you in the most amorous of places. “On lingerie.”

“I believe I’ve said it already,” you continued suggestively, trailing your fingertips slowly up the sleeves of his suit jacket, placing both of your hands on the sides of his neck, your pinky reaching down to barely graze the chain he still wore under his shirt. “But, yes.”

Mat exhaled slowly, “Fuck.”

Something blue.

[raysofcrosby]

Blurb request " you're hurt. Please just let me help you." With mat barzal maybe where he takes a hard hit and bruises his ribs so his gf takes care of him .

“you’re hurt, please let me help you” starring the target version of justin bieber himself<3

You didn’t think much of the muffled sound as you moved slightly beneath the sheets of your bed, thinking that maybe you’d fallen asleep watching Pretty Little Liars on Hulu again. But you were also way too tired to even want to open your eyes and attempt to find the remote to turn the tv off, knowing that the inactivity of not pressing ‘next episode’ would eventually turn it off itself.

At least...not until you heard it again, only this time it was followed by a thump. Heart racing, you sat up and stared out into the dark, empty bedroom. The bedroom door was open, which you were more than positive that you had shut before you went to lay down. You leaned over the side of the bed, keeping your eyes focused on the open door while reaching beneath the bed for the bat you kept in case of emergencies.

A bat that you had bought after watching one too many episodes of Criminal Minds and Law and Order: SVU one weekend a few months ago. A bat that Mat had laughed at when you showed him its hiding place– “we live on the top floor in a building where you need a keycard, Y/N. Not to mention, the front desk doesn’t let anyone near the elevator without checking in first.” Still, it gave you comfort, especially when he was on the road for a while.

You quietly slid out from beneath the blanket, the cold wooden floor beneath your feet as you held onto the bat tightly with both hands. Another thump, followed by a sharp breath had you turning away from the door and to your bathroom, where for the first time, you could see a small light coming from beneath the closed sliding door. Walking slowly to the door, you slid it to the left quickly, keeping the bat raised.

“Shit!” Mat yelled, items falling to the ground as he jumped back into the darkened bathroom, sucking air in through his teeth. “Jesus, Y/N. What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” You replied, lowering the bat down to your side. “Why are you walking around like some...some killer?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You really watch too many crime shows.” He picked up his phone, the soft light beneath the door having been coming from the flashlight of his phone. “I didn’t want to turn any of the lights on and wake you up, so I’ve been using this.”

“You can turn the light on, babe. I only woke up because you were bumping into things.” You laughed. “Here, I’ll get it for you.”

“Wait–”

You turned the bathroom light on and turned around, finally being able to see Mat instead of his outline. He looked tired, his hair was all unkempt and he had light circles beneath his eyes– which you expected since it was 2 am and he was getting back from a road series. But as you took in the rest of his appearance, you saw that his shirt was untucked, disheveled, and unbuttoned while his pants were also undone and looked like he was in the process of taking them off. When you went to ask why he was getting undressed in the bathroom instead of the closet like he normally did when he got back late, you saw it.

The pink and red mark high up on his right side was peeking out from beneath his shit.

Putting the bat down and letting it rest against the bathroom counter, you walked towards him and peeled his shirt back, seeing more of the mark along his side, watching it darken as you revealed it fully. In the three years, you've been together, you'd seen Mat come home with some pretty nasty cuts and bruises– but you've never seen anything as big as this.

The bruise, from what you had seen, started a little beneath his right pec and traveled across his side, stopping just before it reached his back. There were smaller bruises beneath that big one, all decorated along his ribs, but looked to be healing already.

This one looked fresh, his skin was swollen, red, and angry.

"It wasn't that bad when I got on the plane," he sighed, leaning his left hand against the counter, supporting himself. "I mean, the hit was hard and it hurt like a bitch, but it was tolerable. I just took some ibuprofen afterward, got on the plane, and fell asleep. When we landed and I went to get up, it was like I could barely move."

You know what hit he was talking about. They were playing against Colorado and when he went to go move the puck out from along the boards, Nathan Mackinnon had come up beside him and checked him against the boards. Even through the screen, you could feel the pain Mat was in when you were watching the game, a visible wince on his face when the camera focused on him.

"Did you get an x-ray?" You asked, sliding your hands up to his shoulders and beneath his shirt, pushing the material down off of his arms. "Did you break anything?"

"I go get one in the morning," he nodded, wincing as your fingers accidentally brushed against the bruised skin when pulling the sleeves off of his arms. "I'm meeting Hess at the arena at 8, then we're going to the hospital."

"Well in the meantime, we can at least try to ice it," you sighed, looping the shirt over your arm before moving your hands down to his pants and tucking your thumbs beneath the waistband. "Out of these."

"Y/N, I can do it." He huffed, reaching down and moving your hands away from the waistband, starting to push them more down his body until he had to actually start bending, then he stopped.

"Mat, come on–"

"I can do it," He mumbled, taking deep breaths and exhaling after each slow movement of his waist starting to bend.

When you heard the sharp breath he took between his teeth, you shook your head. "You're hurt," you whispered, squatting down to meet his eyes as you reached up and cupped his face with your right hand, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. "Please let me help you."

You could see in his eyes how badly he was hurting, but his ego was getting in the way. When you first started dating, you discovered that he was never one to want to be taken care of, not even when he was sick. But as the years went by, he started to relax more. He'd come to you for back rubs if he was sore, cuddles if he was sick. When he was really tired, he'd ask if you could just play with his hair until he fell asleep. Whenever he'd gotten injured during a game, he was always taken care of before he left the arena.

But this time, he was home, he was hurt and while it was somewhat new territory, you were the comfort he desperately needed.

When he nodded, you smiled and kissed him briefly before nodding at him to stand up straight again. He did, ever so slowly, and when you started to help get him out of his pants, he had to use his hand to brace himself against the counter once more. He moved slowly, raising one leg after the other before you got his pants off, draping them over your arm as well.

"Go out to the living room, I'll put these up." You said, kissing his cheek.

He nodded and you watched as he slowly shuffled his feet against the floor, leaving the bathroom. You collected his suit jacket off of the side of the sink and walked out of the bathroom, into your bedroom, and then into the closet, putting his clothes into the bag he had designated for dry cleaning before leaving again and walking out into the darkened living room.

Matt had turned on the tv and was lounging on the extended portion of the couch. His legs were stretched out ahead of him, but his back was elevated against the cushion. "I forgot to grab a blanket." He said, shooting you a pouted look.

"I'll grab one," you nodded, walking into the kitchen and to the fridge, opening the freezer and grabbing a big ice pack before closing the door. You grabbed a washcloth from one of the drawers before heading back into the living room, making sure to grab the blanket that was draped over the back of another part of the couch before making your way over to Matt and sitting down on the couch next to him.

"I forgot to put on pants too." He mumbled, rolling his head towards you and still pouting.

"The boxers are fine, Mathew," you said, wrapping the ice pack up into the washcloth. "We'll just limit your movement till the morning, putting on pants would've just been more painful."

He nodded, resting his head against the arm he had outstretched along the back of the couch. You slowly placed the covered ice pack against his bruise feeling bad as he winced away from it. He shut his eyes and took deep, calming breaths as you held it against his side.

"You okay?" You asked, brushing the hair out of his face.

"Mhhm," he nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "Cuddles, please."

You laughed and moved over onto the extra space beside him as he held onto the ice pack so you could drape the blanket over the two of you. You rolled onto your left side, facing him and putting your hand back onto the icepack, taking back over. "You know the drill, 10 minutes on 10 minutes off."

"Mhhm," he mumbled, slowly opening his eyes as he let the hand draped over the couch, come up and rest against the back of your head. "I'm sorry for being difficult."

"It's fine," you replied. "I just want you to know that you can ask me for help anytime, whether I'm asleep or awake. I hate seeing you hurt and I don't want you to think that you have to take care of yourself all the time."

"I know," he exhaled, nodding his head as he placed his hand on top of yours, brushing his thumb against your skin. "I love you."

"I love you too," you smiled, leaning in and kissing him, the arm over the couch pulling you further into him before you leaned back, laughing. "Someone doesn't seem like they're hurting all that much anymore, hm?"

He gave you that goofy-looking grin that always made your heart flutter against your chest as you felt his fingers massage the back of your head. "I don't know, I guess kissing makes me feel better."

"Mhm, likely story," you laughed, moving hair out of his face before kissing him again and then tucking your head down onto his shoulder, smiling as you felt him kiss the top of your head.

[theemporium]

please im begging... thigh riding mat barzal smut.... please

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Shit, baby, I gotta leave soon.”

“No, you don’t,” you mumbled defiantly, your fingers curled in his hair to tug his head back as your lips trace over his pulse point. “You have ages.” 

“I still need to get ready,” Mat murmured, but it was half-hearted at best. His hands were gripping your hips, his body sinking back into the couch as you continued to kiss along his neck. “The boys are gonna give me shit if I’m late again—”

“Tragic,” you retorted, though he could feel your smile pressed against him. 

“Baby,” Mat groaned before he ducked his head down, until his lips found yours again. “You’re a menace.” 

You pulled back, your hands dropping to rest on his chest. “Sorry for wanting to spend some time with my boyfriend after he’s been away for a week,” you grumbled but the smile remained on your face. “I think I need to have a word with the coaching team. It’s not fair that you have morning skate when you just came back from a roadie.” 

Mat raised his brows, amused. “Not fair for who?”

“For your lonely and neglected girlfriend,” you retorted.

Mat snorted. “My poor girl.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Don’t mock me.”

“Never,” he grinned before he leaned back up to kiss you again. “Need some lovin’?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you muttered but you leaned into the kiss, your nails lightly scratching his chest over the material of his shirt. “Makes me sound needy.” 

“You are needy,” Mat countered, lightly pinching your hip. “And I love it.” 

“Then do something about it,” you retorted, hips rolling down to feel the bulge in his sweatpants. “Mat, baby, please…” 

Mat groaned, gripping your hips to stay still despite every cell in his body wanting to do the opposite. “Baby, I can’t.” 

You huffed, your hands on his chest as you moved to climb off his lap. 

“Hey, hey,” Mat murmured as he pulled you back down, your chests pressed together. “I said I can’t. I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Mat, that doesn’t make any sense—”

“Gonna make you feel good, baby,” he murmured, lifting you up enough so you were shifted off his lap and left straddling one of his legs instead. 

Your cheeks warmed at his insinuation. “Mat—”

“C’mon, I gotta leave soon,” Mat muttered against your lips as his hands squeezed your hips. “Want my pretty girl to ride my thigh before I go.”

Your brain short circuited for a small moment. 

“S’hot, babe,” Mat continued like his suggestion hadn’t completely melted your insides and washed away any coherent thoughts with it. “Pretty sure I remember you said you wanted to try it back at All-Stars—”

“I was drunk,” you defended, but your body flushed at the reminder. “And it wasn’t my fault you had your thighs out like a slut.”

He grinned. “They are all yours, baby, use them as you please.”

Your breath hitched a little. “I don’t know…”

“Shhh, just relax f’me,” Mat whispered, leaning up to kiss you again. 

You sunk into his embrace, letting the whirling thoughts in your mind come to a halting stop as his tongue swiped along your lower lip before deepening the kiss. His hands gave your hips another squeeze before he started guiding, slowly rocking you back and forth until your body was moving on it’s own accord.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, his forehead pressed against yours as your soft pants brushed along his lips. “That’s my pretty girl. Looking so fucking good riding my thigh like that. You look so gorgeous when you use me, baby.”

Your face flushed, a pathetic whine leaving your lips. “Mat—”

“C’mon, baby,” Mat cooed, his thumbs dipping under the hem of your shirt to swipe along your heated skin. “Give me something to think about during practice.”

.

[sc0tters]

Forever Yours | Mat Barzal

summary: when Mat���s words send the argument too far it sends him into a day of true self reflection.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing.

word count: 3.41k

authors note: this request was really good and I tried to fulfil it as well as I could and do that little bit more for it too. It took my an embarrassingly long amount of time to write this but I think that it was all worth it in the end. I really did love this one so I’m hoping that you guys did too, so to those of you who do read it all, thank you.

Today was one of those days.

The one where you want to crawl into a ball and hope that if you shut your eyes tight enough you’ll wake up and realise that it was all just some bad dream.

Zack your youngest has been clinging to your side as he is going through teething. Then the twins who were weeks away from turning four were having the worst time of their lives. Whilst Oscar lost his teddy bear to the family lab Marley, Marcus only wanted his father who was far too busy preparing for the end of the season’s playoff run.

And that brings that to why you were having a bad day.

The crockpot decided to turn off at some point during the day so you no longer had dinner cooking, Amazon delivered your package that had the boys presents in it to the scary neighbour. The boys had you chasing them around publix because they kept on running away. And to top it all off you had dirty laundry that could have been coming out of your ears you had so much to do.

Which is why you were honestly giving yourself a pat on the back for getting Zack to sleep before Mat came home “daddy!” Marcus cheered running over to his father who came in the front door.

You wiped your hands on the kitchen cloth that was in front of you before you turned to where the noise had been coming from “hi love.” You yawned as your eyes grew heavy when the lack of sleep that you had began to catch up with you.

Mat furrowed his brows as he saw that the dinner table wasn’t even set yet “boys already eat?” He asked giving you a side hug.

A quick shake of your head had him scoffing “what the hell was so important today that you couldn’t get dinner ready for five thirty?” The hockey player had a rough day where he couldn’t seem to score a single goal during practice today and he brought that negative mood home with him “boys why don’t you go to the playroom?” You asked the twins sending their father a glare “we are not doing this with them here.” You warned as the boys ran off unaware of the glaring match that their parents held.

Mat crossed his arms as he tapped his foot against the floor “you haven’t answered my question yet.” His voice was condescending as it made you feel sick to your stomach.

You sighed “day just got really out of hand.” You mumbled picking up that he wasn’t going to be interested in hearing about what your sons had gotten up to today.

From the lost teeth to breakdowns in the grocery store, if you could name it the event probably happened.

Yet your words didn’t harbour the response you hoped “I don’t go to work for you guys to sit on your fucking asses all day!” Mat hadn’t noted when his frustration on his day morphed into frustration about you.

At this point one of the twins began crying “sitting on my ass?” You let out a laugh “do you know how hard it is to raise these boys myself?” You crossed your arms. You loved your kids but you were getting spread far too thin to keep yourself afloat.

Now you had both clearly gone too far “from where I stand it’s a pretty easy job.” Those words came with a slash of a knife that couldn’t exactly be taken back.

The look on your face in that very moment was one that Mat hadn’t seen before “if you think it is so easy then you take the kids tomorrow.” You proposed with a smirk “what are you gonna do?” Mat couldn’t believe that he was entertaining your thoughts.

Quickly the penny dropped in your head “the girls haven’t seen me in months. They want to go to a spa.” You raised your eyebrows with a smirk “deal.” Mat nodded his head as he reached his hand out to shake yours.

Part of you found it sad to believe that this was what you had gotten to “where are you going?” Mat wrapped his hand around your arm as you went to move away “to deal with our crying child because it clearly seems that you aren’t planning on it!” You shot back clenching your fists as you walked into the playroom.

Whilst you spent the night taking care of your boys tucking them in Mat was on the phone to Anthony debriefing the events that had happened “you were an ass dude.” The younger boy rolled his eyes as he rubbed his hand along his jaw.

Years ago you would have been Anthony’s dream girl, you were Anthony’s dream girl but when Mat won you the younger boy took his defeat gracefully “look I can’t exactly go and tell her I fucked up now?” Mat grumbled as he stared at the ring in the box.

Six years of dating and three kids to show for it yet no ring on your finger, or at least not yet “sorry dude.” Anthony apologised as he shook his head “you have to lie in the bed that you have made.” He shrugged seeing Mat’s face soaked in regret.

So Mat got to watch as he realised the consequences of his actions “I will say that she does love you just as much as she loves those kids.” As godfather to all three Tito could see just how much all three of those kids meant to you “so if y/n is y/n then I suggest you start looking for the checklists.” The comment about your organisation skills made both boys laugh.

Getting to watch you craft the step by step lists that you loved so much made Mat’s days “I should get going.” The Islander player sighed seeing the bedroom door open as your body appeared.

You sent Mat an awkward smile as you watched him throw his phone to the side “hey-” Mat spoke up as you went to your closet.

Pulling random items of clothing together you tried to ignore your boyfriend “the boys are down.” You announced grabbing onto some old band tee that you had found in your closet “so I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.” Mat wanted to argue, he wanted you in his bed because as much as you so badly wanted him to feel a of the ounce of the stress that you had felt dealing with the rough parts of the single parenting lifestyle this week.

But instead he watched on “you sure?” Were the only words that he could find in his mind that his mouth would let out.

It was a far cry from the fight you wanted him to put up “I thought I’d been sleeping with a guy who wanted to see me today, but since that isn’t the case I’d rather be alone.” You sent Mat a nod feeling too tired to cause a fight tonight.

The guest bedroom was bleak in comparison to your bedroom. The walls were decorated yet the love that had been soaked into the walls of your room hadn’t been carried to the very room that you sat in.

Playing with the beaten up hem of the band tee you had grabbed only now realising the memories that had woven themselves into the stitched fabric.

This was more than just a simple shirt to you and Mat. This was the first shirt you stole from him, the shirt you were in when he asked you to move in. The one when you went into labour with Zack. If something could capture your relationship. It was that shirt.

ABBA blared through the speakers of your apartment as you danced to it. Mat had been on a road trip for the last two weeks and you being heavily pregnant you were in nothing but Mat’s shirt.

The boy ended up arriving quietly as you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the music “holy shit!” You clutched at your chest as you locked eyes with the boy “I was just starting to enjoy that show.” Mat frowned as he pushed off from against the doorframe.

His hands ran over your stomach as he smiled “missed you.” His words were soft as he kissed your lips.

You looked like a sight for sore eyes in his shirt “missed you too.” You smiled as you ran your finger over his cheek.

So you couldn’t help it when you stared in the mirror and watched on as tears welled in your eyes making you unlock your phone “momma.” You sobbed as the call connected “Mat and I had a fight.”

When Mat woke up that next morning the mix of the irritated looks on the twins faces and the lack of your presence on the other side of the bed served as a reminder for the events of the previous night.

Oscar was the first to speak up “we’re gonna be late.” He pointed to the clock making Mat’s eyes go wide “where is your mom?” Mat groaned rubbing his eyes as the sleep caught in his fingers.

Marcus pulled the note out of his pyjama shorts pocket “momma gave this to me.” Of course you had gone and kissed the boys before you left to head to New Jersey for the day.

𝒯𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓃𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝑜𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝑒. 𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒.

Getting both boys dressed was one thing but almost forgetting that Zack was asleep in his cot truly took the cake “forgetting someone?” Oscar furrowed his eyebrows as he pointed at the picture of the three boys you had taken for Christmas “fuck me!” Mat pinched the bridge of his nose “swear jar!” The twins spoke at the same time as they watched Mat run back upstairs.

Mat had realised that he had truly screwed up when the boys didn’t even say goodbye to him when they left “tell mom we miss her.” Oscar mumbled as he let the car door shut with a slam behind him.

Zack was peacefully playing with the toy that Marcus had dropped into his hands “you okay buddy?” Mat looked into the rear view mirror to see that his youngest was now looking back at him “mama!” Zack cooed as he let out a giggle “I know, I miss her too.” The hockey player let out a sigh as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in front of him.

You let the warm water of the jacuzzi calm your nerves as you peacefully sipped on your mimosa “so what did Mat do?” Maisie asked as she cocked her head.

It pulled your attention away from the bubbling water “what makes you think that he did something?” You shot back ignoring her smirk “it’s been three years since we last went to the spa. What has your husband done to bring you back here?” Before kids the spa was a bimonthly tradition for the two of you.

Maisie sighed as you kept quiet “boyfriend and we fought.” You corrected her looking down at your bare ring finger “tell me what happened.” She reached out to hold your hand “basically-” you were cut off by the sound of your phone ringing “hello?” You asked quickly answering it.

“I know you said that Mr Barzal was picking the boys up today but the boys are still here.” It was forty minutes after the boys were meant to be picked up “I’ll be right there.” You cursed the universe as you got up.

Water ran down your body “Mat forgot the twins at school.” You explained shaking your head “I’m sorry but I have to-” stress made your cheeks turn red “go, I’ll come with.” Maisie didn’t even have you finish talking before she followed you out of there.

Mat bounced Zack in his arms as they walked back to the car “what does your mom want?” Mat furrowed his eyebrows to see that you had sent him twenty missed calls.

You didn’t let him get a word in “Mat you have done some stupid things in your life but this truly takes the cake.” You spat pinching the bridge of your nose.

Thankfully for you the twins always assumed that you were the one meant to pick them up so they didn’t realise that they had been forgotten about “hi dad!” Marcus giggled from the back of the car “shit.” Mat slapped his hand over his mouth “swear jar!”

Mat knew he had screwed up once more “Zack had a good check up and that ear infection is gone!” The hockey player let out an awkward sigh as he watched Zack babble on to himself.

You wanted to yell at him but for now you were going to have to remain quiet “we can talk about it at home.” You hung up before Mat could say anything more to you “I think momma’s gonna kill me.” Mat groaned shaking his head as he placed Zack into his car seat.

Maisie had kept you calm until she left wanting to give you a moment to gather your thoughts before Mat came home “mama!” Zack cooed as the front door opened.

He was happy on his fathers hip until he saw you “he didn’t take his bottle today.” Mat explained as Zack reached out to grab you “it’s because he’s teething.” You explained handing your baby the teething toy you had grabbed when you heard the door open.

That served as another reminder to Mat about your strengths as a parent “where are the boys?” Guilt began to consume him as he thought about what he had done to the twins “playroom.” You tilted your head in their direction.

Mat sent you a nod “can we talk?” He pleaded wanting everything to go back to how it was.

All of his teammates had sent him messages expressing how they were on your side because Mat fucked up “you go talk to your sons, I’m gonna feed this one.” You shook your head not agreeing with him “then we can talk.” You sent him a soft smile before you walked upstairs wanting to feed Zack in peace.

The twins were forever on your side no matter how much they missed their father “you know mom told Nana.” Oscar knew about his grandmother’s distaste for Mat. She always did believe that her daughter deserved more than a hockey player who was keeping her in New York.

Mat frowned at the news “I’m sorry I’ve been really shitty to you both.” He apologised watching the twins look at each other with a smirk “I know I’ll put another dollar in the swear jar.” He added in a predictable tone.

The twins got up when their father dropped his head to stare at the ground as he crouched in front of them “I think we can let you get a free pass.” Oscar announced wrapping his arms around Mat “but only if you go apologise to mom.” Marcus added on replicating his brothers actions “yeah I miss moms waffles.” Oscars complaints brought a smile to Mat’s face.

It made him laugh as he nodded “I think I can find a way to make sure you guys get those.” The boys let out a cheer at the news.

Zack had fallen asleep the moment he finished eating “can we talk?” Mat asked as he knocked on the door to see you sat on the bed as you folded laundry.

Your absolute definition of the worst thing on the planet.

Mat laughed as he watched you scrunched up your face reacting to how he folded clothes “you got something you want to say?” Mat raised his eyebrows as he placed his boxers on the table in front of him.

You sighed “you’re doing it wrong.” You shook your head as you reached out to fix what he had done.

It made him smirk “what?” You looked for an answer to his amused expression “as someone who hates folding laundry you are doing a pretty good job.” Mat pointed out as he crossed his arms.

Your mouth formed an o as you let out a gasp “cause you’re doing it wrong!” You threw his boxers at him “want to show me the right way to do it?” You raised your eyebrows as you heard his offer “if that was to get me into your bed once more-” your relationship with the boy had only been going on for a few weeks but you had been friends for years.

The hockey player grabbed your hand as he pulled you onto his lap “then I’d have to try a lot less to be a lot more successful.” Mat brushed his hand along your cheek “I’d like to see you try.” You let out a squeal when he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom.

When Mat’s body weight pressed against the mattress it pulled you away from that memory “I don’t know how you do that everyday.” Mat blurted out as he looked at you.

It brought you some comfort hearing his apology “you are incredible and I was stupid.” The hockey player continued as he ran his fingers through his hair “that’s one way to put it.” You let out a soft laugh “I’m so sorry for everything I did.” Mat reached out to grab your hand.

You smiled at the contact “thank you.” Your voice was soft as you sent him a smile “and I promise I will never leave our children at school again.” His words made you laugh “I’m not letting you live that one down.” You shook your head as he grinned “thought as much.”

Both of you remained silent for a moment just enjoying the peace “I appreciate your apology.” You mumbled fiddling with your nails.

Mat stopped you as he forced your fingers down to the mattress “I have something I need to tell you.” The hockey player announced reaching over to his bedside cabinet.

You shook your head stopping him “I have something to say first.” Amit the chaos that was yesterday you failed to tell Mat the news “you go first then.” He let the box drop into his drawer as he waited to hear what it was that you had to say.

He smiled as he watched you run into the bathroom with a smile on your face “Zack was meant to wear this really cute onesie that I ordered when I thought about this but-” Mat cut you off as he got up to follow you “just spit it out.” His voice was soft as he sent you a thumbs up.

You showed him the pregnancy test as you chewed at the inside of your cheek “say something?” Somehow you were more nervous about showing it to him now than you had for any of the other three pregnancies combined.

Mat pursed his lips together “I was going to say this to you in a few minutes but I’ll do it now.” A moment truly hadn’t felt better than this one did.

He dropped to his knee “I can’t see my life without you and today cemented that more than any other did.” Mat confessed making you smile “the ring is in my drawer-” he rambled making you grin “just ask me so I can say yes you big goof!” You kneeled as you smiled locking your hand with his.

“Marry me so I can spend the rest of my life with you?”

Eight and a half months later

Mat and you enjoyed the last moments of silence as you stared at your newest edition of the family.

But of course the moment had to end eventually when Anthony opened the door with the twins and Zack in tow “is my goddaughter everything we thought she would be and more?” Anthony smiled as he carried a bouquet in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Mat nodded crouching down to show the boys their sister “couldn’t have said it better myself.” He nodded knowing that this was going to be the child that was truly going to wrap everyone around her finger.

[jackhues]

bad reaction pt. 2 - mat barzal (au #1)

part one has been dubbed the 'bad reaction mat fic', so here's part two loll, also there's two ways i want this to go, so they're going to be aus of each other. here's the first one!

gif not mine!

mat was having an off-week.

that's what the whispers around him said. he was having a bad few days, and wasn't playing up to his usual standards.

nothing was wrong. it was just an off-time for him.

but mat knew it was deeper than that.

the moment you told him you were pregnant, his brain had shut off. the two of you had a silent, but mutual agreement, of having no kids. at least not until you had your lives figured out — whether you were going to spend it together or what.

when he heard you two were having a baby, he got mad. mad at you because out of all the girlfriends and flings he'd had, you were the last one he expected to baby-trap him.

but when he came home, late that night and for some reason completely sober, you were already gone.

the clothes from the dresser, the hair ties you left lying around despite mat's complaints, the jacket that had been sprawled on the back of mat's chair for a month now — every trace of you was gone.

and that's when he realized you weren't baby-trapping him.

that the pregnancy wasn't something you'd wanted, but something that had just happened.

that's when he realized he'd let you go.

"oh fuck," he muttered, rummaging through the drawers before finding his phone. in a rush, he'd left it at home.

he dialed your number, holding his breath and it reached voicemail. he tried again and again, even requesting your location, but it was radio silence on your end.

he dialed your younger brother, sighing in relief when he picked up the phone. his relief was short-lived as your younger brother didn't sound happy with him.

"the hell do you want?" he growled. "stop calling y/n, she doesn't want to talk to you."

"look, i fucked up, okay?" mat admitted. "i know that. i messed up, and i — i just want to explain to her. please. if she — if she wants nothing to do with me afterwards... i get it. i just want to talk to her. please."

maybe it was the desperation in his voice, but your younger brother sighed. "she's at my house. you have five minutes to speak with her, or until she kicks you out."

mat thanked him, running out the door and to your younger brother's apartment. when he finally reached, he knocked, leg bouncing as he wanted nothing more than to talk to you, to see you.

"she's in the room," your younger brother said, opening the door. "you have five minutes, and don't you dare make her cry."

mat gulped, rushing to the room. the door was open, and you were sitting against the bed, watching the princess diaries on the projector.

he winced. if you were watching the movie on the projector — it was bad.

"y/n?" he called out, voice cracking slightly.

your eyes widened as they met his, a part of you not believing your brother when he was mat wanted to talk to you.

"can i — can i explain myself?" he asked quietly.

you paused the movie, motioning for him to come in. "you can sit there."

he sat on the chair, trying to convey how guilty he was.

"i'm so sorry," he told you. "i — i was scared because this — what we have — it was realest thing i'd had in a long time. and i was scared that you were going to baby-trap me, and i'd fallen for it. i shouldn't have reacted they way i did. i should've listened to you and talked to you, and helped you through this. i want to be there for you. i'm here for you now. as long as you let me."

you were silent, digesting his words.

a part of you wanted to be mad at him, but you understood where his fear came from. he was a professional athlete, of course that would be one of his first thoughts.

you'd had over a week to come to terms with the pregnancy, while mat had barely had a day. you didn't blame him for his reaction, no matter how much you'd hated it.

"come here," you patted the bed next to you, allowing mat to sit. "i don't blame you for your reaction. honestly, i should've spoken with you earlier, and we could've talked it out together. but that's what we're doing now. we're communicating, and we're okay."

hearing that sentence come out of your mouth, mat tried not to cry.

he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. whether you kept the baby or not, he was going to be there for you from now on.

he swore it.

-

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @hischierhaze, @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @youunravelme

[nolpat0]

can't quit you | m. barzal

summary: she and mat can't get each other go despite how bad they are for each other

wc: 1,165

warnings: toxic behavior, alludes to sex

The cramped kitchen was dark, moonlight pouring over the dark-stained floorboards and illuminating her figure sitting loosely cross-legged on the floor, the pale lighting making wraith-like shadows flicker across her weary features as her eyes continued gazing harshly at the blank-screened phone resting in the middle of the worn floor. She was debating, being yanked back and forth from her two options so wildly her stomach clenched painfully, tightening and coiling as she failed to be broken from her anguished reverie. A frightened whimper escaped her bitten, blood-stained lips, tongue darting out to taste the metallic flavor of her own blood, as the phone screen lit up with a ring. It was him. She began shaking her head ever so slightly, sharp, melancholic hatred aimed at him flaring through her veins as the phone continued its insistent ring, making her finally choose the lesser of two evils instead of letting sleep take over at 3am on her kitchen floor, salty tears clinging her to flushed cheeks. There was always that option- even now- but now the idea of picking up the call, answering the phone, and hearing the soothing lilt of his words was too tempting. Who wanted to pass out on their kitchen floor crying anyway?

"Hey,"

Every ounce of hatred left her pores, dripping away and leaving her shaking form clean and fresh with a new wave of guilt and satisfaction. The two emotions warred inside her, rising to a dull ache in the base of her skull as her cracked fingernails dug into the plastic of the phone case as she held it to her ear.

"Mat," She answered quietly, the syllable rolling off her tongue, unbidden and a horribly natural habit she'd somehow picked up over the course of his midnight calls. Her wet lashes hit her cheek as she squeezed her blood-shot eyes tightly at the memory of the endless stretch of similar calls he'd tortured her with. Of course, he called; she kept picking up. Even when she really, truly shouldn't have.

On the other line, the crackle of her voice through the small speaker of his phone had the muscles of his mouth twitching to the side in a triumphant grin that shone in the light of the bright phone screen in front of him. His long fingers held the device away from him, letting his coffee-colored eyes roam over the font of her contact and the changing numbers of the duration of their call until he had it committed to memory. He liked the way her small voice echoed through his cold, darkened room in the dead of night when he put her on speaker. Despite himself, Mat liked hearing each crack of her words, as if the syllables were breaking apart along with her will. It became a game to him; the boy relishing every tilt of her unique voice crowding his room as he guessed what word her throat would choke on, and which sentences she pushed past her pretty lips would have her falling apart. When she would break. So he continued curling his lungs around the air meant to breathe life into his meaningless words, trying to drag out her inevitable downfall before he'd have to pick up her pieces.

In the lackluster light of her cold-tiled kitchen, the girl bit back the hiccup of her cries as she clung to every hollow word he gave to her. She knew of his sickening glee over her impending sobs and knew how much he liked the emotion he inspired in her battered heart. The enjoyment originally came from a well-meaning place, the boy in awe of the positive, in-love feelings he gave to her. Too quickly, their love had wilted like a flower cut from its stem, and he was left with the game of how hard he could bend her before she broke in his hands. But it took two to play their catastrophic game of dying love and her games were just as horrible as his.

Fingertips pressed against the faded tile of her kitchen, she curled into herself, back curving as her ribs shook with skillfully internalized sobs. She wondered offhandedly if he could tell she was crying from the unsteady pacing of her shallow breath through the buzz of the poor connection. Her white-knuckled hands shook with familiar desperation; an ache for him and the weight of his arm fitted above the jut of her hipbones as the ends of his dark curls brushed her heavily flushed cheeks, the whistle of his breath soft against the shell of her ear. It was a familiar ache, a feeling that nestled into the junction of her bones and follow every painful midnight call and tears pooling on the kitchen floor.

"I need you here, Mat." She whispered, the feeling of loneliness so overwhelming and ghastly terrifying that she folded to its influence, eyes shuttered closed as she pleads for him. "Can you come over?"

It was always can and never please because can gave him the opportunity to walk away, finalize their disastrous end with a broken promise that he'd arrive at her door but instead left her in the shaking mess of herself, gasping as the morning sun finally rose and told her to get herself together. It meant they could finally let each other go, and they could move away from whatever shreds of their relationship they had left, feet swiftly moving them throughout their life so that in time, they could look back and silently thank the day he broke his final promise.

"I'll be there in ten."

Ten minutes. Mat had ten minutes to pull on his shoes, unlock his car and navigate the midnight streets like he didn't already know the route by heart. She had ten minutes to pick herself off the floor, wash her mascara-stained face and pick whatever color she thought he'd like that night. But he also had ten minutes to stall at a red light, finger drumming against the leather and decide against this, putting his car into reverse as he pulled out of her apartment parking lot. She had ten minutes to stare at her dulled eyes in the mirror, order a new lock, and text Mat to lose his spare key before blocking the eleven-digit number from her phone. They had six hundred seconds to make their decisions, to war with their heart and head, to understand that the feeling tucked between their heart and sternum was no longer love, but the terrifyingly real fear of being alone. But perhaps they already realized this and figured this cruel routine was better than having a cold bed.

In the end, six hundred seconds weren't enough for either of them. Mat pulled the silver key from his pocket, feeling the familiar ridges as he understood its metaphorical meaning. Guilt stabbed at his heart, but nothing stopped him as he pressed the key into the lock.

Only to find the door already opened.

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Mon Petit

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested: Yes - @sj-thefan

Tagging: @thisismysecrethappyplace @aw-hawkeye @caswinchester2000

Fandom: NHL  

Relationship: Established; Mat Barzal x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: The Reader wakes up to Mat speaking French to their baby.

Word Count: 595

Warnings: None.

You were awoken from your sleep by noise and the gentle rubbing of your swollen stomach.

“Ta mère et moi sommes tellement heureux de te rencontrer.” You heard your boyfriend, Mat, say to your belly as he continued to lightly stroke your belly. (Your mom and I are so excited to meet you)

Mat loved to talk to the baby and he had recently gotten into the habit of speaking French to them as well. He was committed to the idea of his child being bilingual as well, which you supported.

“Tu vas être si petit et fragile, mais ne tu inquiétes pas, votre père vas tu protégera.” He continued to whispered and you kept your eyes closed and didn’t move. You wanted to keep hearing him talk to the baby. (You’re going to be so small and fragile, but don’t worry, your dad will protect you)

“Tu vas avoir beaucoup de gars là-bas pour toi protéger. Toute une équipe de hockey.” At his words, you couldn’t help but smile a little, but Mat didn’t notice since he was focused on your belly. (You’re going to have a lot of guys there to protect you. A whole hockey team)

“Je pense que tu vas être un joueur de hockey aussi, comme ton père, mais tu ne devais pas d'être un si tu ne veux pas être un.” Mat said with a smile, his voice getting a little louder and you could feel the baby start to move a little bit, you doubted that Mat could feel them move though. (I think you’ll be a hockey player too, like your dad, but you don’t have to be one if you don’t want to)

“J'espère que tu m'aimes bien, parce que je t'aime beaucoup, mon petit.” Mat said, pulling his hand away from your belly. (I hope you like me, because I love you a lot, little one)

Once Mat had pulled his hand away from your belly, your baby gave a hard kick followed by a slightly softer kick. You grabbed Mat’s hand and brought it to your belly, resting it over where you had just felt the kick.

Mat looked at your confused, “you’re aw—?”but his confused expression melted away to awe as he felt the light kick under his hand.

You smiled at him and he rolled over a little bit more so he could look at you better while he rubbed your belly.

“Keep talking, I think they like it.” You told him and he nodded.

“Bonjour, je suis ici, mon petit.” Mat whispered and felt another kick. He looked up at you with a big smile. (Hey, I’m here, little one)

“Do you think it’s my voice or the French?” He asked you and got another kick.

You laughed. “I think it’s just your voice.”

Mat nodded and kept talking to your belly. The baby continued to kick for a few minutes before they came to a stop.

“That’s incredible.” Mat whispered with a shake of his head, completely amazed at feeling the movement of his unborn child.

You giggled and nodded. “I know.”

Even though the kicks had stopped, he kept his hand on your belly and continued to rub it. “That’s amazing.” He said softly.

You nodded and covered his hand with your own. “Yeah it is.”

Mat smiled at you and he shifted his position so that he could press a kiss to your lips before pulling back. “I love you, Princess.”

You giggled and pressed a quick peck to his lips. “I love you, too, Mat.”