#Mathew Barzal angst

[hugshughes]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟, 𝐘/𝐧 𝐘/𝐥/𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐮𝐦, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞!

𝐰𝐜 - 1.4𝐤 (𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐡𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟!)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 - 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 (𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲!), 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - 𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @alwaysclassyeagle (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!)

-

real life! december 10th, 2023. 8:23pm EST.

"I'm gonna fucking throw up. I can't do it."

You earned a slap on the back of the head after the loud proclamation. You turned to your best friend with wide eyes, rubbing the spot she made contact with.

"No you're not. And yes you can! Everyone's gonna go ballistic, they miss you babe!"

You stared down at your phone, gazing at the text messages between you and your manager, she'd just given you the go ahead to post the announcement for your new album.

In reality, you knew they did miss you, but you were so nervous. Your new album was so special to you, and you wanted it to be recieved well. Every song was so complex and unique to you. It was the first album you would release since the worst breakup of your life. After you'd finally broken up with Mat, all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and not talk to anyone for a year. Honestly, that's kind of what you did.

"I know. I just want everyone to love it like I do."

"They will, I promise. Everyone's gonna freak! Now, I have an idea."

"What?"

"After you post, we leave our phones down here and while we go get ready, and go to that bar you love!"

You smiled, that sounded fun. You opened Instagram, sliding to create a post. After choosing the photo of the new album cover, you typed out a caption.

"Okay, we can do that! That'll take my mind off of this. Now I just need to post, shit, I'm nervous."

You looked over and your best friend just smiled and nodding towards your phone. You sighed, biting your lip before hitting the post button. You refreshed your profile to make sure it posted before shutting your phone off, dropping it next to you on the couch.

Your best friend jumped up, grabbing your hands and pulling you to stand.

"Let's go, sweetheart. We're gonna go get you happy and tipsy."

You followed her upstairs and into your bedroom, standing at the door of your closet while she grabbed outfits to offer you. You let her dress you up like a little doll. She put you in a little black dress with a white bow under the bust. She added black boots and your outfit was complete. You both fixed up your hair and makeup before putting together your going out bags.

Once you were downstairs all you did was throw your phone into your little purse, not caring to check any of the notifications you were receiving. You climbed into her Black SUV before she pulled out of your driveway, starting to the city. You lived in a few different places, having two homes and an apartment in three different cities. Currently, you were staying in your house in New York, in a more suburban and residential area farther from the city.

You also had a house in Palm Springs and an apartment in Seattle, since that's where lots of your family currently was. The drive to the bar was about 40 minutes, all spent singing and dancing with your phone connected to CarPlay. You guys parked in a large parking garage before heading down the street into the bar. You walked quickly to get away from the cold, shivering beneath your large leather jacket.

The bar was always less crowded than most, since it was higher end, and you knew some of the staff. Your face lit up as you saw your favorite bartender wiping down glasses as you sat at the bar.

"Hi lady!"

Her head snapped up, a smile gracing her face while she greeted you.

"Aw hi! Oh my gosh, girl. I saw your announcement! You don't know how excited I am!"

Your heart warmed. This being the first reaction you heard to your announcement was definitely sweet.

"Stop, thank you so much! I've definitely been really nervous about it. I haven't even checked my phone since I posted it."

"Well you are going crazy viral, everyone is freaking out!"

You best friend gave you a knowing look, she had told you so. You blushed, thinking about your fans loving the new album. You got your drinks and went to sit at an empty booth in the back of the bar, a Cosmopolitan and a lemonade, since your best friend was designated driver. There were only a couple other groups here, around 10 other people.

After a bit, you two took a trip to the restroom. You took your jacket off while you best friend took photos of you in the mirror to post later.

After around two hours, you exited the bar, the time nearing midnight. You were astounded when you saw flashes of light blinding you as you began the walk to the garage. Paparazzi. Thankfully, you were in New York, and knew the guys.

"Oh, hi guys! What's up?"

"Hey Y/n! What's up with us? What's up with you?! Everyone saw the announcement earlier tonight! Personally, I can't wait!"

You smile brightly, New York paparazzi weren't like Los Angeles paparazzi. These were the guys you knew through Taylor, they were respectful and not pushy.

"Thank you so much! I'm so excited! I literally have not looked at my notifications since posting it, I was too nervous!"

"Can you tell us what the album's gonna be about? Maybe a little insight?"

"Well, the songs are all pretty different from each other, honestly. Some are more personal than others. But the genre of music isn't too steady through on this album, I jumped around a bit!“

They nodded, laughing along with you. You answered a few more questions and took a few more pictures before they let you go. You felt happiness settle into your stomach when you got comfortable in the car.

It wasn't until after you got home, and got ready for bed that you started looking through your new notifications. Many texts from friends congratulating you, news that you were trending on Twitter, and that you post had 6 million likes in five hours.

Your manager had also texted you that sometime soon you should post the back cover, especially since the first post was so well received.

First you posted the photo from the bar to your story before going to post the back cover, some how more nervous than before. The back cover had the track list on it, it would reveal the whole album. Scary.

"Just post it! I'm not going through this with you again."

Your best friend gave you a look, one that heavily reminded you of her mother, with a hand on her hip before she climbed into your bed next to you. You nodded, sighing as you hit the post button.

The two of you laid close and talked quietly, giggling and shushing each other like little girls scared their moms were going to come in and tell them to go to sleep.

Eventually you did fall asleep, the do not disturb setting stopping your phone from buzzing off the table.

-

social media!

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25 minutes ago

[v6quewrlds]

❝ know no better, m. barzal. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: with your work responsibilities taking you away from long island, you and mat haven't had much time to blow off some steam. his friends, however, are tired of being on the receiving end of mat's "steam" and enlist you to help.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: about half way through the nnn series! i am a diva!mat truther so enjoy. day five of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, oral (male receiving), mat’s a lil grump.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.4k.

You looked up from your laptop, your eyes scanning the crowded airport lounge. The clacking of keyboards and murmur of distant conversations created a familiar backdrop to your focused silence. You sighed, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you awaited your flight's boarding call. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up, expecting to see a message from work reminding you of the deadlines that had kept you in Boston for nearly a month. Instead, you found a text from Ethan Bear.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You hadn't spoken to Ethan in ages, not since the last time you and Mat had seen him over the summer. 

The message was simple: "Hey, noticed Mat's been on edge lately?" 

You read it again, a hint of confusion creasing your forehead. Of course, you had noticed. Mat's mood swings were like the tides, but you had just chalked it up to the pressure of his season and your demanding work schedule pushing distance between the two of you. 

You typed back, "He makes it hard not to lol he's prob just stressed with the season. Why?"

Ethan's response was swift and to the point. "It's that dumb No Nut November bet. He's losing his shit like a little bitch. Can you fix him?" 

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. Mat, your six-foot hockey player of a boyfriend, reduced to a grumpy mess over a bet? It was almost endearing in its ridiculousness. But Ethan's concern was clear, and you knew you couldn't ignore it. 

You replied, "I'll see what I can do," with a winking emoji, feeling less than guilty for the amusement that bubbled up inside you.

As you boarded the plane, you couldn't shake the image of Mat, all six feet of brooding masculinity, brought to his knees by his own stubbornness. You chuckled to yourself, imagining the look on his face when you told him you knew about the bet. The flight back to Long Island was a blur of work emails and half-hearted attempts at relaxing, your mind racing with ideas to tease him into dropping this absurd challenge.

When you finally stepped into your apartment, the tension hit you like a wall. Mat's heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you could hear him muttering under his breath. You set down your bag and called out, "Honey, I'm home!" with a playful lilt in your voice.

Mat appeared around the corner, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and annoyance. "Fucking finally," he grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly in an attempt to suppress a smile.

You rolled your eyes, your amusement clear. "What crawled up your ass?" You stepped closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mat sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "You wouldn't understand."

You stepped closer, your curiosity piqued. "Try me."

Mat rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "It's just this stupid bet with the guys. I can't believe how much it's messing with my head."

Your smile grew. "Oh, the No Nut November bet? That's what's got you all worked up?" You couldn't resist poking the bear. "You know you can just tell them you can't do it, right?"

Mat's jaw clenched, and he glared at you. "It's not that simple. My pride's on the line."

You chuckled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Okay, tough guy," you said, your voice gentle and teasing. "But if it's really bothering you, maybe you should just, I don't know, not do it?"

Mat's eyes searched yours for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his gaze. He was torn between his pride and his desire to end the torment. You decided to take matters into your own hands. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I have an idea," you murmured against his skin. "How about I help you relieve some of that tension?"

His eyes widened, and you knew you had his attention. "How?" he asked, his voice gruff with hope.

You stepped closer, your hands sliding down to his chest, your thumbs tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. "How about I give you a little something to take your mind off of it?" you suggested, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. You saw the spark of interest in his eyes and knew you had him in your grasp.

Mat's expression softened slightly, his eyes flickering with curiosity and a hint of desperation. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his tone cautious.

You smirked. "I could give you a reason to lose the bet?" you offered, your voice laced with playful challenge. You watched as the realization dawned on him, and his eyes grew dark with need.

"Did someone set you up to this?" he asked, his voice thick with suspicion, trying to hide his growing excitement.

"Let's just say I have my ways of finding things out," you replied with a wink. You could feel the tension in the room start to ease as Mat's curiosity took over.

Mat looked at you skeptically. "Alright. But if you're just messing with me..."

You giggled, standing on your tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "I'm not messing with you, baby." Your breath was warm and sweet, sending a shiver down his spine. "I want to help."

Mat stared at you for a moment, trying to gauge your seriousness. He was desperate for relief, and the thought of losing the bet was becoming increasingly more appealing by the second. With a huff, he stepped back, his arms crossing over his broad chest. "Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?"

You took a step closer, your eyes never leaving his. "Well, I was thinking..." you trailed off, your hands moving to the hem of his shirt, "maybe I could help you relax." You began to lift his shirt, your hands gliding over his abs, your manicured nails lightly scraping against his skin. "You know, just a little something to take the edge off."

Mat's resolve was crumbling. The feel of your hands on him was too tempting to resist. He let out a gruff chuckle, trying to maintain his tough exterior. "You're really going to do this?"

Your smile grew mischievous as you continued to lift his shirt, exposing his toned stomach. "Mmhmm," you hummed, your eyes flicking up to meet his. "I think it's only fair that if you're going to be a grumpy mess, I get to enjoy the perks of helping you out."

Mat's arms fell to his sides, his eyes locked on yours as you continued to explore his torso with your fingertips. "And what perks would those be?" he asked, his voice low and gruff with anticipation.

Your smile was sly. "Well," you said, your thumbs grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, "I was thinking I could give you a nice, long, slow release."

Mat's eyes darkened, and he took a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that sent shockwaves through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you gave in to the passion you had been craving for weeks.

The two of you stumbled into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. You pushed him down onto the bed, your body straddling him. You could feel his heart racing under you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his muscles taut and his eyes filled with a desperate need that made your own pulse quicken.

Mat's hands found the zipper of your jacket, his fingers fumbling with the fabric as he tried to get it off of you. You laughed and helped him, shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it aside. You leaned in again, your mouth tracing a line of kisses down his neck and chest, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew ragged, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

As you kissed down his body, you felt the tension in Mat's muscles start to unwind. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you knew that you were winning the battle against his pride. With a knowing smile, you began to undo the drawstring of his shorts, your eyes focused on his.

"Missed this pretty, perfect dick," you murmured against the fabric of Mat's shorts, your voice muffled and playful. Mat's body tensed in anticipation as you slowly pulled them down, revealing him to your gaze. You took a moment to admire him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and desire.

Mat groaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets. "You're evil, you know that?"

Your eyes gleamed with victory. "Only when it's for your own good," you teased, your fingertips brushing against his arousal. You watched his reaction, his eyes rolling back slightly, raven hair beautifully contrasting the crisp white sheets.

Mat's hand reached up to tug at your hair, urging you closer. "Just do it," he begged, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pushy," you said, your voice low and soothing. You leaned down, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Mat shivered as you pressed a kiss to the tip, your lips curling into a smug smile at his gasp. You took your time, teasing him with feather-light kisses and gentle strokes, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

Mat's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth grinding together. "Baby," he ground out, his voice a desperate plea. You conceded and took him into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring his taste and the sound of his moans. His hips bucked upwards, and you held him down with a firm hand, keeping the pace at a torturous crawl.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, watching the myriad of emotions playing across his face: surprise, pleasure, and a hint of embarrassment at his loss of control. You took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked gently, and he swore, his hands fisting in the sheets. The salty tang of his sweat mingled with the faint scent of his cologne, and you felt a thrill of power knowing you could bring this strong, confident man to the brink of madness with just your mouth.

Mat's thighs tensed beneath you as you increased your pace, your hand pumping in time with your mouth. His breath grew ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. You took him deeper still, your throat tightening around him, the sensation of his impending climax thrumming through your body.

"Shit," Mat groaned, his voice tight with need. "C’mon, babe, I can't..."

You released him slowly. "You can't what, baby?" you whispered, your voice like velvet against his sensitive skin.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at you, desperation warring with the need to maintain his pride. "I'm gonna come, baby," he warned, his voice strained.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes gleaming. "Mmm, I know," you said, your voice a sweet taunt. With a devilish smile you held his gaze as you stuck your tongue out, a line of saliva connecting your mouth to his glistening cock. Mat's hips jerked upwards involuntarily, his eyes widening with shock and pleasure.

"You're gonna lose that bet," you whispered, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. Mat's jaw clenched, and he nodded, the fight draining out of him. His hand reached for you, guiding you back down to him. "Good boy," you murmured, your mouth enveloping him again.

Mat's hips began to thrust slightly, his movements growing more urgent. You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, your own desire spiking at the sound of his desperate moans. You tightened your grip, your tongue swiping against the underside of his shaft. His hips bucked harder. With one last, deep suck, you felt him pulse in your mouth, the warmth of his release flooding your mouth.

Mat's body went rigid as he came, his breath hitching in his throat. You swallowed, your eyes never leaving his. You licked your lips, savoring the taste of him, and gave his cock one last gentle kiss before sitting back on your heels. You watched him, his chest heaving and eyes glazed over with pleasure.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by your ragged breathing. Then Mat's face contorted into a mix of frustration and relief. "Fuck," he muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. "How bad was I?"

You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Oh, you were pretty bad," you teased, your voice light and playful. "Ethan texted me about it. Said you were being a little bitch."

Mat's face reddened as he buried his face in a pillow, muffling his groan of embarrassment. You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's okay," you said, your voice gentle. "You're my little bitch."

Mat threw the pillow at you, his laughter joining yours. "Fuck off," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You caught the pillow and tossed it aside, your smile widening. "It's all love, baby," you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But seriously, you okay?"

Mat took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I just didn't know it would get to me like this."

Your expression softened, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble that had started to form. "No more dumb bets?" you asked, your voice a gentle reprimand.

Mat sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "No more dumb bets," he agreed, his voice gruff. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole."

Your smile was warm, your thumb continuing to stroke his cheek. "You should probably apologize to Ethan. Whatever you did to him, it's gotta be bad if he's asking for my help."

Mat chuckled, his irritation fading. "I'll text him later, tell him you talked some sense into me." He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you, the affection in his touch making your heart flutter.

[mendeshoney]

don’t tell me you’re my heartbreaker

Summary: You weren’t expecting Mat to come back to you.

Pairing: mat barzal x f!reader

Word Count: 10,251

Warnings: post breakup, verbal disagreement, angst, make up sex, angst with a happy ending, second chance romance

A/N: happy freaky friday, i have returned lol. thank you to @m00nlightdelights​ for beta reading this and being my hype person, ily<3

Why you had agreed to this, you had no idea.

Even now, sitting here, across from an unsurprisingly empty chair, every instinct, every nerve ending in your body is telling you to run, to flee, to get the fuck out of here and run down the few blocks it would take to get to the train station to get away from all of this.

From this, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. 

You anxiously checked the time on your watch once more, the glaring 6:28 PM letting you know there were exactly two minutes till the agreed time of 6:30 pm, and once that time arrived, you would start the timer for what you were considering a generous fifteen minutes. 

If he wasn’t in this chair across from you at 6:45 pm, sharp, you would give into your body’s response and bolt. 

And then that would be it, right? You’d be able to put everything that had happened into a box sealed with a neat little bow, store it away to be forgotten and move the fuck on.

You could deal with that.

…Right?

You checked your watch again.

6:29 PM.

The waiter comes back to your table, dropping off the two glasses of water, a basket of bread rolls and a little dish of butter, along with the diet coke and glass of wine you’d ordered for yourself, and the whiskey on the rocks you’d ordered for him. 

You really shouldn’t have done it. 

Would it send him the wrong message?

No. you chided yourself. There's nothing wrong with being polite. Be the bigger person.

Besides, if his tastes somehow changed in a month and a half, and if he wanted something else to drink, he could get it himself once he showed up.

If he showed up.

Immediately after the waiter turned his back on you, you reached for your wineglass and took a large gulp, trying to psych yourself up. Trying to remind yourself that despite what you were feeling, you did have the upper hand here. He asked you to be here, and you could leave at any time you wanted.

You checked your watch again as you put your wineglass back down to the table.

6:30 PM.

He gets a generous fifteen minutes and that’s it. You reminded yourself sternly. 

The second the thought formed in your head, the door to the restaurant flew open and your eyes betrayed your attempt to appear nonchalant about all of this, immediately flying to the door and observing as Mat entered in a rush of limbs, pulling the toque off of his head and smoothing a gloved hand over his hair.

You continued to watch, keeping your expression blank as he weaved through the tables and straight for you, plopping down into his seat with a hushed but rushed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think traffic would be so crazy, had I known I swear I would’ve taken the subway or an Uber instead of taking my car, and-”

“Breathe,” you say gently, taking in the deepening flush of his cheeks. “It’s fine.”

Mat exhales, taking off his gloves and stuffing them in his jacket pocket, before shrugging it off and letting it hang on his seatback. He ruffles his hair anxiously one more time, then finally, finally looks at you.

Your stomach twists.

Shit.

You were worried about this. You’d managed to get over him - well, about eighty five percent of the way over him, at least - but you were worried that the minute he gave you his full attention, the minute you looked into his eyes, you’d be catapulted back into his orbit and it would be like the last month and a half you’d spent trying to exorcize him, your relationship, and all the memories tied up in between, would have been for nothing.

It’s not all of that quite yet, but your heart starts incessantly hammering against your ribcage anyway, and you fight to keep your expression blank, trying to resist the urge to be launched back into his gravitational pull.

His expression, however, falters, and the instant smile that spreads across his face when you manage to make and maintain eye contact for longer than a second is brilliantly bright. 

“Hi,” Mat breathes. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re technically right on time.” You counter, then lower your gaze to the drinks and bread in front of you, trying to look anywhere but at him.

Gorgeous fucker. 

Stupidly beautiful. 

Annoyingly perfect.

His eyeline follows yours, and he frowns for a second, before a look that you can only describe as fond takes over his face. “You ordered for me?”

“Just the drinks,” you clarify. “The waiter said he’d be back to take our orders once you got here.”

“Well,” he says, looking into your eyes, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

You shrug, not really considering it a big deal and he leans forward, clasping his hands on the table when he says “It really means a lot that you agreed to meet me here.”

You assess him a little, and when you find he’s being sincere, all you can do is nod. There's still a ball of anxiety in the pit of your stomach, and your walls climb all the way up, barricading what’s left of your heart behind its stone barriers, and keeping it close. 

Mat can clearly sense this, can sense you keeping yourself at a distance if the small frown that starts to form on his lips is anything to go by, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he plows forward. “I know…I know that things didn’t exactly end well, and I wanted to apologize for that. I wanted…I wanted to talk this out. Talk about us.”

You nod again, because he’d said as much when he called you out of the blue this morning, but it’s what he says next that nearly gives you whiplash.

“I want to give this another shot.”

You blink, partially stunned.

That is…not what you expected him to say at all.

When he called, said he’d wanted to talk about everything, you assumed it was for closure, assumed it was so they could maybe finish the half-finished angry conversation you’d been having the day you broke up, when he called it quits out of nowhere and then walked out.

You hadn’t been expecting…this. 

“You…what?” You stutter out. 

He nods, vehement, grabbing a roll and his butter knife, stabbing a little ball of butter on the end of it and going about buttering a roll for you and then himself - a habit of his now, you’re sure - like this is all completely normal.

“Yeah,” Mat says, gaining confidence with each word he speaks. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said that day. About what you’d been trying to tell me this whole time, and you’re right. I wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend to you. I didn’t put you first, I took advantage of you, got scared, and when it mattered most to you, I couldn’t give you what you needed, but that’s not true anymore.”

He puts the roll on the little plate in front of you, then goes about making his own, continuing on like you’re not sitting there gaping at him. “I know I said a lot of things. A lot of awful things, no, horrible things, things that I didn’t mean. And I know I can never take it back, but I hope I can at least…try to make things better?”

Watching you, Mat takes a moment, gauges your reaction. You realize he’s waiting for you to say something, but the only thing you can manage is a small “huh.”

He swallows. “I uh, I know there's a lot to unpack, and I know I have a lot to explain to you, but I wanted to at least put all my cards on the table as to where I’m coming from.”

It’s all too much, and you feel like your body malfunctions a bit, your hands coming up to stop him from speaking any further. “I’m sorry…I just, I need a second to process.”

He closes his mouth, nodding, watching you closely, eyes getting a little wide as you grab your wine glass again to take another large gulp, nearly draining it before reaching for your buttered roll and taking a bite to try to calm your nerves. You both sit there, Mat watching you, and when you finish the roll after a couple of minutes and you manage to gather some semblance of sanity, you hesitantly meet his gaze.

“I don’t understand.” You say. “You…want to get back together?”

“Yeah,” he says, a little sheepish now. “I would like that.” When you don’t answer, or return his smile, it drops a little, only reaching the corners of his mouth. “Unless…unless you don’t want that?”

You grab your wineglass again, downing the last of it and trying to gather all of your thoughts.

There was…definitely a lot to unpack there.

You certainly hadn’t been prepared to discuss…getting back together with him. Even though there was a space in your still recovering heart that desperately ached for the prospect to be with him again, to go back to that little slice of paradise the two of you had managed to carve out for yourselves in the dreary winter of last year. 

To go back to spending snowy days cuddled up together in his bed, to return to your spring outings in the many parks New York had to offer, to go back to Summer with him in Vancouver and spending days at the lake, spend fall with him cozied up with warm cups of coffee or hot chocolate or spiked cider.

But that was…gone now. 

You’d worked hard in the last month and a half to convince yourself that this, him and you, your relationship and any chance of it coming back was gone. 

Because it was. You’d fought, explained that you loved him but needed a little more from him, wanted more from him. He fought back, he’d said things, called it quits and then walked out because that was what he said he wanted. And if he was willing to go that far, you need to believe it was what you should want, too.

You were right to worry about agreeing to meet with him for dinner.

I should have left at 6:25, you curse yourself. 

“I don’t know, Mat.” You say finally, honestly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The smile that had been lingering at the corner of his mouth slightly disappears. “What’s not a good idea?”

“Any of it,” you say honestly, pushing the words out of your mouth with a tired breath. “I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mat’s quiet for a moment. You can’t read the expression on his face, can’t parse out what he’s thinking or what he’s feeling. It’s a little daunting, seeing as how you used to be able to read him like a book.

But trying to exorcize him from your mind when you were broken up meant forgetting, and you’d clearly managed to forget more than you originally thought. 

His whiskey on the rocks be damned. 

Said whiskey was still in his glass, untouched, and Mat stared at it for a second before looking at you, nodding. “Okay.”

You raised a brow in suspicion. “Okay?”

He nods, pulling out his wallet and flipping through a few bills. “Yeah, okay. I can respect that.”

You can’t help but stare at him, only a little confused.

When he’d called you out of the blue this morning, he seemed eager. He said he wanted to see you, have dinner, and talk to you about something important. You could practically sense the adrenaline running through his veins, could hear the hard thuds of his heartbeat through the phone. And while you knew Mat was always the kind of guy who was mature enough to take no for an answer, his response made you a little surprised that he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Come on,” he says gently, placing a couple of bills on the table - more than enough to cover the drinks you’d ordered and a generous tip - before standing up, and extending his hand towards you. “I’ll bring you home.”

“Mat you don’t have to-”

“I’m going to,” he insists. “I asked you out, almost got here late. It’s the least I can do.”

With a moment’s hesitation you could tell Mat didn’t like by the flex of his jaw, you placed your hand in his, accepting his help as you stood up. Together, you both put on your own coats, gathered your things, and exited the restaurant. 

You follow Mat to his car, thanking him as he opens your door, making sure you were secure before getting in on the driver’s side and peeling away from the curb.

“Do you want me to stop to get you something to eat?” He offers. “I just realized I all but dragged you out of there, but you probably didn’t even eat yet.”

“No, I’m okay.” You assure him, albeit lying a little. You had been starving, but his choice of conversation curbed your appetite quickly. 

“Are you sure?” He offers. “I can stop somewhere, or order a pizza.”

You shake your head, “No, thank you. Just take me home.”

The rest of the drive is silent, save for Mat’s radio playing lowly in the background. You keep your eyes trained out the window, refusing to acknowledge Mat or his constant fidgeting. You know it’s a sign that he’s got something to say, probably wants to bring up your decision at the restaurant, or maybe insist on dinner, but thankfully, he keeps his mouth closed.

Once he gets to your apartment, he parks outside, making a point of saying “Stay right there,” as you reach for your door handle.

With a small roll of your eyes, you indulge him, waiting patiently for him to round the car and open your door for you. You take his outstretched hand, allowing him to help you onto the curb and dropping it the second you can stand upright.

He locks his car, escorting you into your building and following along with you in the elevator like he always used to.

“Always gotta make sure you get in safely,” he used to say when you chastised him about this before. “I need to see it with my own two eyes.”

When you finally reach your front door, you find that you just want him to leave, and can’t seem to get him out of your hair quick enough.

You reach for your keys in your purse, fumbling a couple of times trying to get the stupid thing into the lock. 

“Let me get it,” he offers, reaching for your shaking hands, but you snatch them away before he can touch you, taking a step back.

“I don’t need your help, Mat!” You nearly shout, almost regretting it when you take in his expression.

Almost.

“Hey,” he says, hurt lacing his voice as he frowns. “I was just trying to-”

“I know!” You sigh out, frustrated and exhausted. “I know what you were trying to do, Mat. I appreciate it.”

“Then what’s the issue?” He asks, hands gesturing between the two of you. 

“I thought tonight was about getting closure Mathew, not getting back together!” You exclaim, exasperated. You fall back against the wall closest to your door, head thumping gently back against it. “It took me by surprise and now I feel like everything is upside down.”

“It doesn’t have to be!” He counters, just as exasperated as you. “It can be simple, it can be easy, if you just let me-”

“Why would I let you say anything to me?” You snap, your angry gaze cutting him straight down the middle. 

“Because I still love you!” His confession takes you by surprise, and he crowds into your space, the heat coming off of his body in waves. “I love you, and I want this. I want us back, and I just want to work this out.”

You can’t find the words for a small moment, taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes, and how he’s behaving like nothing happened. “After the way you spoke to me when we broke up? After the things you said?” That seems to shut him up. “You really think you deserve another chance?”

At your words, Mat could see the wall you were slowly building up to keep him away, to shut him out and push him away for good. If he wasn’t upset before, he definitely was now. He feels so close to seething, his chest rising up and down with every angry breath. He is angry, yes, but not at you, never at you. At himself. He presses his hands on either side of your head, resting on the very wall he had your body pressed up against so many times before. 

Before, when he’d bring you home, press you against this wall by your door and make out with you for what felt like hours, before eventually dragging you inside when you could hear people coming up the stairs or when the elevator dinged. 

But now, he was so livid, so fucking angry with himself that he felt like if he tried hard enough, he could push his hands through the brick, felt like if he closed his fists, he’d pound into the masonry until it was rubble.

“Don’t shut me out.” He pleads. “I know what I said was awful, but-”

“No buts.” You respond. Your tone was dry, your eyes empty. You were looking right at him, but all Mat felt was hollow, like you were looking right through him instead. 

“Baby, I want to make you understand but-”

“No buts.” You repeat, a little firmer, a little louder. It took the breath right out of him. “Every time you say ‘but,’ it negates everything you said in front of it.”

You’d said that once before, he remembered. You were saying it to Tito, giving him advice on how to make up with a girl after they’d fought, explaining how to communicate better instead of making things worse. Mat remembers how tuned in he was to you talking to Tito about it, how he couldn’t help but feel like you were sharing a piece of yourself in turn, that he didn’t realize he was staring at you until someone cleared their throat.

Here and now, with your beautiful eyes looking through him like glass, he wishes he could’ve stayed in that moment. Wishes he listened to his gut all those months and didn’t take this risk.

That he didn’t risk losing you.

He was so sure all of this would have ended with him breaking your heart. 

Now you were breaking his.

“Baby,” he chokes out. “I just didn’t think that I could be what you needed back then. I didn’t think I was good enough to be what you needed, okay?”

“But if you loved me, you would’ve at least tried.” You reason.

Mat shakes his head. “I do love you. Love you. I just didn’t want you to get hurt, can’t you see that? There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re beautiful, you’re perfect, so perfect it makes my chest ache.”

“Is that why you called me clingy?” You deadpan, recalling his exact words the last time you saw one another. “Is that why you said my emotions were too much? Why you said I was asking you for too much? Is that why you said it felt like I was suffocating you by asking you for more? I’m so perfect that it makes you feel sick just being so close to me all the time? Is that the ‘ache’ you were talking about? There’s nothing wrong with me now, but you weren’t willing to try to do anything more to be with me back then? Is that why you did all of this? Because the whole ‘it’s not you it’s me’ bullshit you’re spewing right now contradicts that a lot, you know.”

“I didn’t mean that.” He pleads. “I didn’t, I swear. I just said all of that-”

“To make me believe it.” There’s no emotion in your voice or your eyes, no light, no wonder, no window into what you’re thinking. All the fire and molten heat that’s usually there is gone. 

It's all my fault. He thinks miserably. 

Mat swallows thickly, hoping he didn’t snuff out your flame and make you shutter yourself away, but it’s no use. He knows it’s his fault. “Well,” you begin, placing one palm flat on his chest and pushing. “Congratulations. I do.”

He goes easily, taking a step back even though it feels like he’s putting miles between you both. It dawns on him when his hands fall to his sides lamely that he could have touched you, kissed you one last time just then, and since he didn’t, he probably never will again.

“You were right.” You say simply. “That day, when you said that when people show their true colors we should believe them. And I believe you, Mat. I believe all of you. Especially the version of you that you really are. And that version of you? Doesn’t want to be with me.” 

After every word, all the fight dies out of him a little as you push yourself off the wall, not sparing a single glance at him as you walk away, dragging his battered heart with you as you enter your apartment, and lock him out.

~

Your heart pounds as you finally throw your apartment door shut behind you and lock it and struggle with everything in your power not to collapse to the floor.

Idiot.

Fucking beautiful idiot.

You can’t do this now, can’t cry and weep and mourn for something that was already over. But deep down, you still believed that what you both had was real. You hoped and prayed with the last shreds of positivity that you owned that for once, for one small moment, this thing with Mat would allow you to exist outside of yourself and have something real, something tangible. That he would fight for it.

And even that was taken away from you.

And yet, you should have known it was all too good to be true. Hell, you did know. And you hoped anyway.

A mild trill sounds from your purse - your phone - and you groan, trying so desperately to push the pain of your heartbreak away. 

You wipe furiously at your face, willing away tears that threaten to surface while trying to shove your emotions down. You tear off your purse, coat, scarf, and make quick work of throwing your hair into a bun before wrenching open the closet and stripping down, tossing your clothes into your hamper before stomping into your bathroom. 

Your phone rings again, and you let out a pathetic cry of frustration, stomping back to where you left it and fishing it out.

It’s Mat, and his name fills your screen with his text messages. 

Please baby, please talk to me 

Let me fix this baby

I need you to know how sorry I am

If anything baby, please believe I never meant to hurt you

I need you

You fling your phone toward your bed with an angry scream that turns into a sob, and you sink to your knees on the plush carpet of your bedroom. 

Isn’t this what you wanted, once upon a time? Someone to fight for you, fight to keep you, fight to win you back, to be lusted after, desired. 

You weren’t sure you wanted this anymore.

You’d dated others, but you never felt heartbreak with them.

You did with Mat, though. You felt every crack in your heart. Felt the sadness, the sorrow, the misery.

With Mat, he seemed to make you feel everything and more.

And that was why this hurt so bad.

Because you felt it all anyway.

You fell together anyway.

You loved him anyway.

Love him anyway.

Fuck.

~

It’s hours later, getting close to eleven at night and you’re sipping on your late night glass of wine when your apartment’s intercom buzzes.

Despite your better judgment, you get up from your spot on the couch to answer it, figuring it’s probably your neighbor two doors down who forgot her keys - again - after a night out.

You press the intercom to talk, saying “You owe me wine for this, Isabella.” 

The voice that comes back is not Isabella’s at all.

“It’s me.”

You nearly drop your wine glass, what little alcohol you’ve had tonight rushing through your veins and to your brain quickly, too quickly, and you’re pressing the intercom again before you can register what you’re doing.

“Mathew?”

“Yeah. Can I come up? I was hoping we could talk…talk again, I mean. I didn’t like how I acted earlier, and I-”

You’re pressing the buzzer to let him in before he can finish his sentence, not necessarily needing or wanting to hear the rest of his plea. The last thing you need is for anyone to spot him on your doorstep this late at night.

There was a small part of you that was grateful you’d managed to shower after the little semi-breakdown you had after getting back from dinner. Although now you regretted putting on the silky tank top and shorts pajama set.

Definitely can’t open the door wearing that. 

You quickly place your wineglass on your nightstand, running to your dresser fully intending to grab clothes to change, but then your doorbell rings, and, well.

You could stall, could change anyway, but you don’t need him in the hallway any longer than necessary in case your neighbors spot him.

So instead, you trod over to the door, opening it to find Mat standing there in black sweatpants and a black shirt, his hands in his pockets and his hair a little damp, though thoroughly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it over and over again since getting out of the shower.

You step to the side, allowing him in, and he crosses the threshold, taking off his shoes and putting them next to yours like he’s done hundreds of times before. You shut the door behind him, taking your time locking it to try to catch your breath.

He goes to sit on your couch, then pauses halfway there, unsure. 

This was where it happened, after all. In your living room.

Where you’d fought, he’d spewed his venom, broke your heart, then walked out. 

Deciding you also don’t want to sit on the couch, you walk past him, leading him into your bedroom. It’s probably not the best idea, but it’s the safest alternative. 

You sit at the edge of your bed, and Mat leans himself against your dresser, feeling too antsy to sit down.

“I’m sorry,” He starts. “For how I acted earlier, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I had a right to your time.”

You shrug. “It’s okay.” 

Mat shakes his head. “It wasn’t. And it also wasn’t fair of me to ask you out to dinner and not explain my intentions behind it. Dropping that on you at dinner wasn’t fair either, and I didn’t mean to blindside you with it.”

You nod, reply on the tip of your tongue when Mat forges on. “I realize I have no right to ask anything of you, and no right to ask for the space to explain myself, but I’d like to, if you’d let me.”

It takes you a second, but you already know your answer before you’re speaking the words. “I’ll let you.” You say softly. 

This conversation has the beginnings of closure to it, and no matter what direction it goes in, you need to hear what he has to say if there’s any hope for you to either move past this, or move on from him.

So you let him talk.

Mat takes a deep breath. “I was feeling a lot of things that day. Frustration over the season, how it ended, and then family stuff, more stuff with the surgery. And you were there every step of the way, and I appreciated it, I really did. I guess I just felt…overwhelmed? Overstimulated? There was so much to do and say and I felt like I just needed to be alone for a second, just to breathe.”

He takes another breath, his eyes furrowing as he tries to recall how it was for him back then, trying to say the right things the right way. “You weren’t clingy. You weren’t suffocating me. You weren’t too much, and your emotions weren’t too much. You were always enough, you were perfectly fine. I know you just wanted to be there for me, to support me and help me through what I was feeling, but I’ve never had anyone do that for me before. Every one I’d been with before just sort of…left me to deal with it on my own.”

Mat sighs, chancing a look at you. You’re sitting there, listening to him intently, giving him your full attention like you always used to do, allowing him the time and space to gather his thoughts and feelings. 

When his gaze becomes too much, you find yourself tearing it away, staring at the floor of your bedroom instead. It stings, Mat realizes, not having you look at him like that, but he accepts it, knows he deserves it. 

“I didn’t know what it felt like to have support like that.” He explains. “I wasn’t used to it, and I was wrong to think even for a second that you wanting to be there for me, or you wanting more from me once things got better, was you just wanting my attention, or you wanting anything other than to remind me that you loved me and that you were there to help me, but that you also had your own needs, and that they weren’t being met.”

He sighs, disappointed in himself. “You poured all of yourself into my cup, and I couldn’t return the favor when it mattered most to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t see that sooner, and it shouldn’t have taken me a month and a half to come to you and apologize. I thought I was doing the right thing, walking away, but I can see now that I wasn’t. And I’m selfish enough to admit that I don’t want to let you go.”

There’s a quiet sniffle from you, and Mat feels his gut twist uncomfortably. “I understand if you don’t want this,” he says. “If you don’t want us. I know I was an asshole, I know I took too long to get my shit together and tell you what a piece of shit I was, and probably still am. I still meant what I said, though. I do want you. I want us. And I know I’ll have to work hard to get you back, and I will put in the work, I swear it to you, if you’ll still have me.”

Another sniffle, but no words. He can see you swipe at your eyes, but no words come out.

His heart cracks in his chest.

“Please, baby.” Mat says softly. He gazes down at you, from where you sit on the edge of your bed, and wishes in his head that you’d just look at him. Even if it was just for a second, even if it would be the last time.

You shake your head softly, still cast to the side, those full lips beginning to pout, your bottom lip starting to tremble, and Mat feels like a knife just plunged into his heart and twisted.

Even when you two went through rough times, even when you broke up, he never made you cry. 

And he wasn’t going to start now.

He takes a step forward, and then another, until he’s as close to you as he can be without touching you. He drops down to his knees then, and noticing there are tears beginning to well in your eyes, he decides he has to touch you.

Carefully, Mat reaches up with both hands, cupping your cheeks, and wiping gently at your tears with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs.

You let out a shaky breath. “It’s-”

“It’s not fine.” He insists. He applies gentle pressure behind his hands as he turns your head to face him. You blink when you meet his gaze, more tears falling onto Mat’s thumbs, and he wipes them away. When they keep coming, he lowers his hands a little and leans forward, gently kissing the tip of your nose, then the spots under your eyes, kissing your tears away.

“Tell me what I have to do, baby.” He pleads, moving closer, rising up a little on his knees to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ll do anything, I swear. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you need.”

There’s a small shake of your head, and he can feel you beginning to relax into him. “I don’t know.”

Before he can reason with himself if he should do it, if he’s lost the privilege to, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. He’s surprised when instead of shoving him away, or refusing his kiss, you kiss him back.

He can feel your hands move to his arms, gently pulling him forward, and he kisses you again, moving between your legs when you open them to press the two of you together. As the kiss deepens, he wraps one arm around your waist, banding the other across your back so he can gently grip the back of your neck, and your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer, your ankles locking at the base of his spine.

A small gasp escapes Mat when he feels you grind yourself against his shirt-covered abdomen, and the hand on the back of your neck creeps upward, grabbing a fistful of hair at the base of your skull, using it to anchor you both. At the tug of your hair, you moan, and Mat feels his whole body light up with electricity.

He murmurs your name against your lips, presses kisses there, to your chin, your cheek, working his way down to your neck, sucking little bruises into the skin. He releases your hair, trailing his hand down your arms, moves to your collarbone, sucking bruises, leaving little nips and bite marks as he goes, all the while you keep trying to tug at his hair to get him back to your lips.

Mat acquiesces once, brain going blank when your soft tongue grazes over his lips, and he accepts it, cupping the back of your head and sucking on your tongue lightly. Then, he’s pulling back just a little to kiss your lips, sucking your bottom one into his mouth, and then pulling it between his lips as he pulls away. You loosen your grip, but keep your hands in his hair, running the curls through your fingers. 

“I’ll do anything.” Mat repeats the words against your skin, his hands running down your front, settling on your hips. Picking up from where he left off on your collarbone, he presses a sweet kiss to the skin before sinking his teeth in gently, enjoying your little moans of surprise before using his tongue to satiate the little pain from the wound. “Anything to make you forgive me.”

He starts to work his way down, leaving a trail of kisses on your chest, pulling the strap of your tank top off of your shoulder before pulling the neckline down, exposing the top of your breast and immediately sucking the skin into his mouth, hard.

You let out a small whine, arching your back and pressing further against his mouth, your hands tightening their grip in his hair and Mat groans from where he’s latched to your breasts.

He tugs at the hem of your tank top, and you both part for a small, torturous second, for you to all but tear it off, flinging it somewhere to your bedroom floor before his lips are immediately back on your skin, his hands cupping your breasts in both palms, kneading them in his hands before sucking on one nipple, then the other. 

“I’ll do anything to have you again,” Mat begins, your nipple caught between his teeth. “To make you mine again.”

He rises up on his knees, his tongue purposely swiping over your nipple, your chest, your neck, and as he goes, your core throbs as you watch his tongue glide over your skin before he tucks it back into his mouth. 

“I’m so fucking sorry baby,” he says when his mouth releases your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes lock onto yours and you meet his gaze straight on, watching, waiting, until he tilts his chin just so and you meet his lips, kissing him once, twice, three times before he presses his whole body against yours, hands disappearing from your breasts to cage your body against his once more.

His tongue slips into your mouth, hands roaming over your bare back before sneaking into your hair, grabbing a fistful at the nape of your neck and pulling your head backwards. He chases your mouth, biting your lip as he pulls away slowly, trailing his lips down your chin and then latching onto the particularly sensitive part of your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth hard. 

You moan in response, can feel his tongue massaging over the spot as he continues to suck, and a sharp but delighted hiss leaves you when you feel his teeth scrape gently against the spot. His lips release you a moment later, and he eyes the blooming hickey with pride.

“Never should have let you go,” he murmurs, and then Mat’s arms move, releasing you from his caged embrace so his hands can coast down your sides, settling on your hips as he continues to leave bruising kisses on your neck, fingers dipping into the waistband of your silk sleep shorts. 

“Can I take these off of you?” He murmurs against your collarbone, and you nod, lifting your hips just so, and Mat wastes no time in tearing the material down your legs and off of your body, flinging the things to some spot in your room. 

Mat eyes your exposed pussy and can feel his heart thump against his chest. “God I missed you, missed seeing your pretty cunt every day.”

He moves to place his arms under your thighs, to pin them up next to you so he can devour you, right where you’re glistening and wet for him, but then you’re grabbing at his shirt. He thinks you want it off, so he complies, tearing it off and throwing it to wherever the rest of your clothes are, but then you’re beckoning him to you, reaching for him with your hands, and he smirks a little.

Mat presses a kiss to your pretty glistening heat, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. “I want to taste you baby, it’s been so long.”

You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows as you reach for him. He goes easily, reaching up to smooth that crease away beneath his thumb, and you cup his face, laying back on your bed and pulling him with you.

He climbs onto the bed, moving you both up the mattress until your head is resting on your pillows. He places his hands next to your face, propping himself up so he doesn’t crush you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pressing the two of you together as you kiss him, writhing beneath him like the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

“It has been too long,” you say in agreement, lips ghosting over his as you speak. He can feel you trying to use the heels of your feet to push the band of his sweatpants down. “I need you now, Mat.” 

“Okay baby, okay,” He acquiesces, repeating the word as he pushes his sweatpants and boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock, feels it throb once it’s pressed between the two of you, resting against the soft skin of your belly. 

An excited noise trills from your mouth as you reach between you both, lining him up with your slick folds and grinding against him. The feeling is overwhelming, blinding Mat as he shuts his eyes and groans, rocking up against you, delirious with the friction. “Condom?” He asks belatedly, trying not to choke on his breath when the head of his cock nearly catches on the entrance to your pussy.

You shake your head emphatically, watching completely dazed as Mat reaches a hand between the two of you. 

“No, it's just been you. Only you.” His head swims at your admission, and he dips a finger inside of you, then two, collecting the wetness before bringing his coated fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. He groans, cock pulsing again as he grinds against you. 

You reach for his face, chasing his mouth for a filthy open mouthed kiss that he’s happy to give to you. 

“Had to taste you,” he explains. “Couldn’t wait another second.”

“Need you now, Mat.” You breathe against his lips, and he nods, pulling his hips back ever so slightly until the head of his cock rests against your entrance, and then he’s pushing forward, sliding inside of you slowly. Your breath catches in your throat, and Mat can’t look away, can’t stop watching the way your eyes glaze over before they roll back into your head. 

“That’s it baby, take my cock.” He praises, eyes casting down to where he’s pushing inside of you.

You take every inch of him perfectly, as you always have, and once he’s fully inside, Mat gets in close. He’s on his knees, positioning his thighs under your own to both keep you propped up and open to him, and to keep himself close to you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your body consumed by the white out pleasure of Mat’s thick cock sliding into you. Your fingers are tangled in the sheets beneath you, back broken on an arch, mouth open in a silent cry. It’s been so long since you’ve taken him, and your body’s reacting like it’s the first time you’ve been with him all over again.

You’re so focused on his cock, on how full you feel, that you can barely register that he’s speaking to you, calling for you. His voice comes back to you as pleasure ripples through your body. 

“-please honey. C’mon baby, breathe,” he encourages, cupping your face in his hands. “Breathe for me baby, you can do it.”

You inhale sharply, chest heaving, gathering air in your lungs as you can feel your body begin to adjust, the blinding pleasure of him being buried inside of you starting to replace the stretch and pressure of his welcomed intrusion.

“That’s it honey, that’s my girl.” He praises, thumbs caressing your cheeks as he slowly pulls his hips back, then pushes in again. His abdomen drags against your clit, and your eyes squeeze shut again, overwhelmed by everything Mat. 

His hips move like that once, twice, three times before your orgasm shoots through you like a rocket. It’s so sudden, so unexpected that Mat nearly loses his pace. He has to bring his hands to the back of your knees and pin your legs down so he can continue to drive into you, flexing his hips and fighting past the tight squeeze of your cunt on his cock, fucking you through your orgasm just the way you love as you cry out.

Your name falls from his lips, completely dazed as he watches you. Your cry evens out into a whine, your grip on him loosening a little, and Mat bends his head to kiss you, laughing softly as when your eyes slowly blink open as he pulls away.

“Good baby?” He asks, and you can only manage a small nod in response.

Your blood feels like syrup in your veins now that he’s made you come once, and Mat loves you like this. Loves when you go soft and pliant under him, loves that you trust him to make sure he takes care of you like this.

“More,” you beg, and Mat nods, bending once for another open mouthed kiss, his tongue dragging over yours before you part.

“Love it when you come for me,” he says against your lips, moving his hips so he can fuck you with slow strokes. “Have to fight my way in every time, just to keep fucking you, just to make sure you keep coming all over me.”

“Mat!” You cry out, his hips driving into that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. 

“You’re gonna deny me this?” He asks, a slight taunt to his voice, but you can hear past it, can hear the plea in his voice, the desperation. “You’re gonna take this away from me baby?” 

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the question. It’s no use. 

While you were alone after dinner, you’d had way too much time to yourself, to think, to overthink, to mull over every single second from the fight, to the break up, to tonight, to slamming the door in Mat’s face. 

You knew, somewhere in your heart, that you’d already forgiven Mat before he came back. That whatever his excuse, whatever his reasoning, you’d forgiven him for what had happened.

And it wasn’t until he came back asking for a second chance that you realized you’d give him that, too. You’d give him anything he asked for. 

Because you loved him.

He drove you batshit crazy, but you loved him. 

And you hadn’t exorcized him out of your life, not really. No matter how much you tried to pretend like you had.

Maybe it was your greatest flaw, but you were too forgiving of a person.

You couldn’t deny Mat a damn thing if you tried.

And you didn’t want to deny him, not anymore.

“Answer me,” Mat demands through clenched teeth, pressing down on the backs of your thighs as he begins to drive into you, merciless and desperate. “Am I going to have to fuck you like this is the last time?”

He punctuates his question with a particularly hard thrust, pushing a choked sound out of you as your pleasure starts to build and twist. 

“I want to hear you say it,” he orders, pistoning in and out of you. You can only watch him, stunned.

It was no secret he was beautiful, no secret he was stunning. But only you got to see this, this moment where he looked like a god among men.

The sweat at his hairline, the pinched look of concentration, the veins along the muscles in his arms straining as he holds you down, holds you open so he can fuck you the way he knows you like, the way he pleases you best. The way his eyes flame as he watches your every move, tracks your face so he can be sure he’s bringing you nothing but pleasure.

“Tell me,” he insists, bending his head a little to press a kiss to the inside of your knee, and you don’t miss the way it still sounds like a plea. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You nod, brows pinching together as the delicious drag of his cock brings you higher and higher, closer to your next orgasm. Mat can tell, knows exactly what you need, but he won’t give it to you.

Not yet.

“You don’t get to come again unless you say what I want to hear.” Mat says, slowing his pace to emphasize his point.

A whine sounds in your throat, and he laughs a little, resting his forehead against yours. “I know baby, I know. I know exactly what you need, everything you need. In this bedroom, in this bed, and outside of it. I know everything that you need and I promise I’ll give it to you. But I need to hear you say it. Need to hear you tell me what I want to hear.”

You can only manage a whine, too focused on the slow drag of his cock, the way it feels like you can feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you. Mat shakes his head at your broken noises. “I know it feels good, baby, but you can do it. Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I’m yours.” It comes out as a whisper at first, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock, the friction of his solid abdominal muscles against your clit as he writhes against you slowly. 

“You’re mine?” He repeats, not even trying to hide the bit of disbelief in his voice, the uncertainty. “Yeah? You’re mine? Look at me baby.” Your eyes lock onto his, and he holds your gaze as his hips grind into you. “Are you mine?” He punctuates his question with a particularly hard thrust. “Am I yours?”

You nod again, crying out “Yes!” when he starts to fuck you again. His pace is unrelenting, his hips unforgiving as he moves, driving his cock in and out of you, consistently hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you see the sun, the stars, the moon, the whole galaxy with each thrust.

“Tell me what I need to do.” He says to you. You blink lazily at him, lost in the way he fucks you, and he crowds his body in closer, dropping your thighs and cupping your face in his hands, using the muscles in his hips to fuck you deep, grinding his cock into you some more. 

“What do I need to do baby?” Mat asks again, voice a little softer. His words are loaded, multiple meanings behind the question, and you know what to say to answer them all. He waits as patiently as he can, his mouth locking yours in a deep kiss as you start to squeeze down on him. He can tell you’re getting closer, can tell you’re right on the edge, but he still needs to hear you say it. 

“Need you to make me come.” You answer finally, lips brushing against his as you speak. He nods, forehead brushing against yours from where it rests. His hand snakes between you both as he circles your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to the sensitive bud. Your back arches up in response, moving further into his touch.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” Mat pleads, keeping his hips in time with the circle he’s drawing against your clit, swallowing your cries with a kiss. “I wanna feel you come for me again.”

The dam breaks, your mouth opening on another silent cry as you breath gets caught in your throat, white light bursting as your eyes fall shut, cunt squeezing his cock impossibly tight.

Mat’s orgasm hits him like a freight train and he groans out loud, doing his best to keep his eyes open so he can watch every second of you coming all over him. His cock pulses, his come spilling inside of you in thick ropes, and he can barely breathe as your pussy squeezes around him, like you’re trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

When your orgasms subside, Mat goes to pull out of you so he can lay beside you, but your legs lock around his waist, and you pull him down to you, taking him by surprise with a sweet and gentle kiss. That gentle kiss morphs into the both of you making out lazily, you winding your hips, grinding against him while his cock rests inside of you. 

You both remain like that for what feels like hours, but is probably more like fifteen minutes straight, Mat’s cock getting hard all over again, and you can feel your arousal slowly returning, ready for a round two, if needed. Eventually, Mat’s lips trail lazily from your mouth to your cheek, chin, neck, shoulders, collarbone, moving across your chest to reach your other shoulder, other side of your neck, and so on then back again, leaving kisses in each place as he goes.

After a little while longer, your post orgasm high subsides a little and your head starts to clear bit by bit. When you manage to come back to yourself, you realize Mat’s been murmuring his apologies into your skin, over and over, only pausing when he gets back to your lips, then resuming his apologies as his lips follow the little trail he’s made.

On what you think is his eighth loop around, you tangle your hands in the curls near the nape of his neck and tug a little, removing his lips from their place against your shoulder, dragging him to your mouth and kissing him again. 

You roll the two of you so he’s on his back, his now half hard cock still nestled inside of you and your thighs bracketing his torso. Mat’s hands rest on your hips as he looks up at you, his lips a bright pink from all of the kissing. He looks dazed still, like he isn’t sure if this is all real, then his brow furrows, and regret slashes across his features.

He moves his mouth to form another apology, but you rest a single finger against his mouth, shaking your head softly. 

“I know,” you tell him. “I know you’re sorry, baby.” Slowly, you start to wind your waist, watching Mat’s eyes roll into the back of his head, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips and trying his damndest not to thrust up into you. There’s a hiss that leaves his mouth when you squeeze, and a harsh breath is punched out of his lungs.

“I’m sensitive pretty girl,” he says, definitely not half hard anymore. Mat can’t tear his eyes away from where the two of you are joined together, where he can see his own come starting to drip down his cock, watching as you fuck it back into yourself as your drop your hips down.

“Just need one more.” You promise, can already feel your body chasing after the next orgasm as you move.

Mat nods, pupils blown wide as he watches. “Take what you need baby.”

And you do, planting your hands on his chest as you begin to bounce. Your nails dig into his skin a little, dragging them down his pecs and to his lower abdomen, watching in delight as red marks bloom in their wake, Mat groaning out loud, low and deep, his hips bucking up into you. 

He always did love it when you scratched him up like this.

“More,” he pleads, and you slowly glide your palms back up to his collarbone, digging your nails in once more and dragging them back down in the same path. His body jerks a little when he moans, and then he’s grabbing your hips and sitting up, laying you down and getting onto his knees to fuck you all over again. 

Your hands move to his ass, pulling him in deeper, your nails sinking into the hard muscled flesh and dragging up to his waist, and Mat’s thrusts become harder, sharper, and your orgasm rips through you like a lightning strike.

He follows close behind, fucking past the tight grip of your pussy and coming with a hoarse shout, pinning his hips against you as his cock throbs.

You move your hands then, cupping his face and pulling him down to you, allowing him to bury his face into your neck as he tries to recover. You both breathe deeply for a while, heated skin cooling as the time passes. Eventually, Mat presses soft kisses to your neck, then shoulder, before propping himself up above you by his hands. 

“We should probably shower, shouldn’t we?” He suggests, and you nod. He carefully pulls out of you, but when you move to sit up, he gently pushes you back down, eyes glued to your pussy, where his two loads start to slowly leak out. Mat takes two fingers, gathering what’s coming out and pushes it back into you. Your back arches in response, a small hiss pushing through your clenched teeth. 

He removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean before leaning over you again, capturing your mouth with his, sharing your combined release. 

“Want some more?” He murmurs against your lips, and you nod, your eyes locked on one another as he reaches down, his fingers pushing back in, stroking you a couple of times before pulling them out. This time, when he brings his fingers back up, you grab his wrist before he can put them in his mouth, bringing them to your lips instead, sucking them clean. Mat’s eyes flutter, glazing over and you can feel his cock start to come back to life where it rests against your thigh.

Once his fingers drop from your mouth, he surges forward, kissing you again and you both fall back onto the bed, all thoughts of doing anything but making out leaving your minds for the next ten minutes.

Eventually, you manage to pull away, resting a hand on his chest as you part. “It’s getting late,” quickly adding, “we should probably shower now, so we can head to bed.” when you see Mat panic a little, thinking you were going to try to kick him out. 

He smiles a little, nodding. He gets up first, reaching out a hand for you to take. Once you’re both upright, Mat looks down at you and smiles a little, brushing some hair away from your face then pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You go first, I’ll gather up the clothes and get the bed ready.”

You nod with a small smile, heading into your bathroom to pee and start the shower as Mat busies himself with gathering up your clothes, tossing them into the hamper in the corner of your room. He feels his heart thump in his chest at the familiarity of taking your decorative pillows off of your bed, putting them on their designated shelf in your closet, then fluffing the pillows you actually use before bringing your comforter down.

When he finally makes his way into your bathroom, he finds you standing under the spray of the shower, watching through the glass as the water cascades down your body.

A body he almost let go, a body he knows he’s honored to be able to worship again.

He wastes no further time in stepping into the shower with you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in close, resting his cheek on the top of your head. 

“I’ll do better, I’ll be better.” He swears to you.

Your hands rub up and down his back in a soothing pattern. “I know, Mat.” Your name falls off his lips in a soft murmur, and you pull away a little, tipping your head back just so to look up at him. “We’ll be okay,” you promise, nodding to reassure him.

He nods back, cupping the back of your head in his hand, resting it against his chest. “I know we will, baby. I’ll make sure of it.”

~

A week later, you wake up to soft and gentle fingers dancing up your bare back, winding into your hair and twirling a strand around it before working its way back down, gently stroking into the dip of your back. 

The sheets are tangled around you, the curtains in your bedroom drawn to let the mid morning sunlight pour in, and Mat is sitting on your side of the bed, his hand moving to gently caress your face when he sees he’s managed to cajole you into opening your eyes. 

“Good morning beautiful,” his voice is soft in the quiet of your room.

You smile in turn, rasping out your own “good morning” before turning onto your side to face him fully. “What got you up so early?

He shrugs, pulling your sheets down to your waist, running his hands over your skin. “Made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” You ask, playfully skeptic.

“I think I can manage a few eggs, bacon, and premade waffle mix pretty well, but that’s just my opinion.” He says with a small smirk, and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

The daylight surrounds him from behind, creating a beautiful glow around him and that’s a sign if you’ve ever seen one. You’ve always liked Mat best like this - soft and boyish in his features, but relaxed, a kind of comfort you’ve always felt from material things but never from a person.

It makes your heart skip a beat, and distantly you think, maybe this is what you’ll remember in the future - this moment, Mat surrounded by sunlight, soft skin, bed head, and waking you up for breakfast. 

Maybe you’ll remember this exact moment and know, that’s when you realized you’d always be in love with him, and neither of you ever stood a chance at anything different.

[abilouwrites]

WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

Mat Barzal

I love writing angst and I haven’t done it in so long

“You pick her every time” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air from my frustrations, “it will never be me! Will it? It won’t!”

“Would you just listen?” He asks, reaching for my hand and I pull away again, “fucking listen to me!” He shouts, “it is you, but you act so jealous all the god damn time”

“Me? Jealous? Well of fucking corse!” I groan, pacing around the living room, “you’re surrounded by these women who are obviously better than me and Sarah” her name comes out as a whisper against my breath. Like a word that can’t be spoken. A name that shouldn’t be said.

“Sarah? This is all about Sarah?” He doesn’t treat her name with the same weight I do.

“Yes! You didn’t come home until morning because you were busy with her! Not me. Her! You text her good morning not me! On Roadies and shit I feel like is her you talk to not me” I cry out, thick hot tears fall down my face. He reaches for me and I pull away again.

“What the hell does that even mean?” He asks, “you think I should just date her? Instead of you?”

“The way you act right now Mat? Yeah I think you should” I choke out, I don’t wait for his response

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He asks, he doesn’t block my path but he tries to

“Im going to Nico’s” I respond dryly as I grab my overnight bag and stuff some clothes in quickly.

“You accuse me of cheating and then you go to Nico’s?” He retorts; scoffing a little

“Don’t start with this right now!” I shout out, “at least I haven’t been caught with him this fucking close to my face like we’re kissing!”

He sighs and I drop my ring by the key bowl, “I need to get out”

New Jersey isn’t much of a drive but I end up there in morning. “What’s wrong?” Nico asks as he lets me inside

“Mat. He I think he’s cheating on me and I asked him about it and he kept denying it and then he accused me of cheating on him with you” I hiccup out

“I told you he was an ass” Nico says as I flop onto his couch, “but I don’t know.. why would he go through the trouble of proposing then cheating on you?” He reasons

“I just…” I lay down, “why am I so insecure? Why does it always feel that he picks her?” I ask

“Because he does”

I sigh, and roll onto my back, “I want to keep loving him. I want to always love him. But each time I keep getting hurt”

“Maybe you’re not meant to be”

Another tear sheds, “don’t say that Nico”

“Ok” he sighs softly

I spend the weekend there and the door rings and I really don’t want to answer it, “mat” I whisper

“I’m sorry, don’t let this be the end of us. I fucked up and I’m sorry I cheated”

The words barely register in my brain, “so you did cheat”

“I did”

“Leave”

“Y/n”

“Wait-“

“Get the fuck out right now”

“She told you to leave mat”

“Stay out of this Hischier!”

“Get out of my house Barzal”

[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.”

[ryeriy]

Requested: no

Join my taglist

Champagne Problems - Mathew Barzal

Ib: "she would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head" -T.S

A/n: on the verge of making a pt. 2. Should I?

warnings: toxic family, swearing, angst with a slightly fluff ending

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

It's been ten months since me and Mathew broke up. We both thought it was for the better. Me and Mathew don't really talk much ever since we broke up, but it was for the better. With both of us being busy, it was just so chaotic.

I recently got invited to one of my best friends wedding. It so happens to be Mathews cousin Olivia. Me and Oliva have been friends before I met Mathew. It just happened to be that he was her cousin.

Olivia's family was going to be there. So I knew that Mathew and his family was going to be there. I wasn't going to let stop me from going to support my friend on her big day. Her parents loved me and had no problem with me. It was Mathews. They think I'm a monster for breaking up with him even though it was a mutual agreement.

I was going to try my best to push through it all for her. I'm not going to let something in the past effect me.

On the invitation it said I was more than welcomed to bring a plus one but I wasn't dating anyone and if I brought someone who wasn't Mathew it would cause so much drama. Olivia asked me if I wanted to be a bridesmaids but I told her no. It would just stir the pot and I wouldn't want her to deal with that stress.

Today was the day of her wedding. I had a nice elegant lavender dress. Wasn't too revealing. Just nice and cute for a wedding. I didn't have high hopes things were going to gosp smoothly. You know what they say, fake it till you make it.

**

Things started to sail smoothly before the wedding. I got their at the time she told me to be there. Three o'clock in the afternoon. My eyes immediately drawed to Mathew as soon as I walked in. Glaring at him before sitting on the grooms side. I didn't sit on the brides because I was already getting stares and hearing gossip about myself.

**

The ceremony was great. No drama caused a burst of anger from anyone. Now, it was time for the reception. It was just right next store in a gathering hall next to the chapel. Hopefully things don't go down hill.

I took my time getting out of the chapel. Making sure I didn't exit at the same time Mathew and his family did. I guess I was wrong because as I was leaving Mathew came up behind me.

"Why are you here?" He whispers to me as he walks next to me trying not to draw attention. Not even looking at me.

"Olivia asked me to be here. I've known her longer than I've known you Mathew. I came here to support my friend. I would appreciate if you and your mother would stop making horrendous comments about me ans just let Olivia enjoy her day." I told while walking away from him and entering the hallway leading into the gathering room where it was a bit dim.

Partying has started. For majority of the reception I was sitting down at my table. It was very awkward for me to be here but I did it for Olivia.

But when I did decide to go on the dance floor I heard Mathews family talking badly about me almost yelling it as if everyone needed to hear it. I just ignored it until I heard something I couldn't unhear. My name and slut should not be used in the same sentence.

I quickly went to go find Olivia to tell her I was going to leave. Trying not to cause a big scene.

"Aww but we haven't had cake yet!" She told me.

"I know Livvy. I'm sorry but I'm just feeling tired tonight." I was faking it so hard. I honestly felt bad for her.

"Well it's okay. Thank you for coming!" We exchanged in a hug before I went back over to my table. Grabbing my coat and purse and heading out.

As I walked out I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Wiping away my tears as some softly left me eyes. I sniffled before walking out.

Walking out of the bathroom on my way out to the parking lot, I wasn't expecting to see Mathew waiting there for me.

"What do you want? You've already ruined my night. What else could you possibly want from me!"I exclaimed at him in anger. More tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry about them. I told them to drop it but they wouldn't. I'm sorry (y/n). Sorry for everything."

"Bullshit! If you where sorry you would've never let this happen! You fucking talked shit about me to your entire family and now they hate me!" I am hurt by this. You can hear the pain in my voice.

"Just hug me." He held his arms out for me. I walked into his arms. Wrapping my arms around him. Feeling his arms around me, pulling me closer to him, gave me flashbacks.

Crying in his arms made me feel a bit better. No way I was going back in there but I just needed this.

"Thank you." I said while pulling away from him wiping the tears off of my face.

"I still love you." He says. The tone in his voice is soft.

"I know. I do too." I looked at him trying not cry again.

"Is this goodbye for now?"

"Yes. Goodbye Mathew."

"Goodbye (y/n)."

Walking past him and exiting the building. I looked back at him before I left. He let a tear race down himself face as I left. This was not goodbye for ever. Perhaps one day we'll meet again.

[luvmmarner]

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

This is the list of only New York Islanders player's imagines/fics.

✶ = smut

♡ = fluff

✰ = angst

MATTHEW BARZAL (COMING SOON) BO HORVAT ➮ Packing up ♡

[itsnotgray]

i think my heart is eternally broken after this

december // mb

warning; heartbreak. that’s it. 

summary; after he’s left alone in an empty apartment with the weight of the world on his shoulders, mat comes to realize that december’s his least favorite month of the year. based on the song december by neck deep.

word count; 3.8k+ 

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

mat doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around the block. all he knows is that it’s hard to see, even harder to walk straight, and he can’t shake the itch he has to call you. he just needs one more time, just one final attempt at hearing your voice, even if it’s just your answering machine. 

“hey, this is y/n! i’ll get back to you-” he hangs up then, decides that he doesn’t have the mental capacity to leave another message. 

it’s only been two weeks, but mat feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. his heartbreak is just as fresh as it was when you walked away from him, tears in his eyes and mind going through the motions of trying to put itself back together again. two weeks isn’t long enough to heal from the gaping hole you left in his heart. there’s not enough time in the world for mat to heal properly. 

he comes to the realization that he’ll never be the same fairly quickly. he thought you were it for him. he thought that every obstacle would be tackled by the two of you together. he thought you’d be in this shit show called life together, for the long haul. he can’t say it’s not his fault, can’t say he tried as hard as he could. he took you for granted, and he knows that now, but now it’s too late.

Keep reading

[chukys-mouthguard]

#17 Angsty with Mat Barzal

Prompt: “It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

Note: writing angst for mat always has me picturing him just being the absolute cockiest asshole on the planet but i love it so much 🫠

“Mat you act like we haven’t been doing this shit for months now! I get wanting to keep some things private for yourself, but it’s like you're ashamed of me or something!”

He sat with his head in his hands as you paced the floor of his apartment. The two of you having just gotten home from an Islanders home game. Though having to drive separate because Mat and you weren’t together, and you couldn’t be seen with one another.

“It’s not that y/n! You know it’s not anything like that!”

He spat back at you before standing up himself, making his way to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Then what is it? If you’re just looking for a hook up type situation, then I’ll walk out that door right now because I told you from day one that isn’t at all what I wanted. If you’re not interested in me anymore, then fine. But don’t sit here and lie to me when it’s obvious something is going on. You won’t be seen with me. I can’t wear your jersey number, I can’t meet any of the guys or their girlfriends. I’m your secret or something, and I don’t understand why!”

Mat sighed as he saw the tears in your eyes, hating to see you so upset, but he knew this was best. Keeping your relationship like it was. It was better this way, less complicated.

“It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

He sipped his beer as you shook your head.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Wary of where it might lead? It’s been eight months at this point Mat, not quite sure where else we are headed.”

He knew he should’ve never let things go on as long as they had, but like he said, you had this power over him. He couldn’t commit to you. But he also couldn’t let you go. Despite how much he cared about you and liked you, he knew this couldn’t be anything more. Not now.

“I can’t put a label on this or introduce you to everyone because god forbid this goes south, I can’t go through that. I need to be focused on my game right now, the second I start introducing you to people and the things that come with that, it’s going to be too much pressure. I don’t want to deal with any of that right now, that’s why I like things where they are at. I get it, it’s been months, you want more. You need more. But I can’t give that right now, and I won’t give you that. I know what I want, and that’s not a label. I don’t need a girlfriend, nor do I want one.”

His words cut through you like a knife. The man you’d fallen for turning out to be nothing you ever thought he was. Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you did your best to suck up your emotions. Mat not deserving another one of your tears.

“So, what was the point? You were just keeping me around for fun? For company? To waste my time when you knew what I wanted?”

Mat simply shrugging as he brought his beer back to his lips for another sip. “I care about you, so fucking much. And I told you, you have this power over me where I can’t just walk away and let you go. I, I want to think it will get better. That things will change. But I’m also not going to give in and change things thinking that we are headed that way. So yeah, maybe I’m being selfish for keeping you around rather than ending this knowing it’s not what you want. But, I still want you here. I still want this with you. As long as you can accept where I stand. If you can’t, then that’s fine too.”

You scoffed as you grabbed your keys, “That’s fine too? You know what….you’re right, I do have power over you. And I’m taking that power to walk away from what a piece of shit you are. Go fuck yourself Mathew Barzal.”

[hugshughes]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 - 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱!𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐘/𝐧 𝐘/𝐥/𝐧'𝐬 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐨.

𝐰𝐜 - 600 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐘/𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭! 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 - 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘!!!!!, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞!𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐥, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞(?)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧/𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜! 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭. 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

-

Social Media!

thevogue.com/artists/yn-yln/#bio

Artists / Y/n Y/l/n

Pop Female Vocalist Indie Folk Post-teen Pop Singer-songwriter

Published December 2nd, 2023. 11:29AM PST

Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n (born January 11, 2001, in Annapolis, Maryland) is an American singer-songwriter. Y/l/n is a 3-time Grammy winner with a total of 11 nominations (as of October, 2023). As of October, 2023, Y/l/n has sold 26 million albums and 88 million singles worldwide.

Y/n Y/l/n is a internationally praised pop-indie phenomena. She quickly rose to fame at only 17 when she released her debut album Pause (February 19, 2018). Pause sold over a million copies in less than 48 hours, soaring to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 chart. 8 of Y/n's songs took place on the top ten and it took 41 weeks for Y/n's songs to exit the top 10. Pause racked up 3 Platinum singles, including Blouse, Innocent, and Bags.

Y/n Y/l/n's fame somehow skyrocketed higher when she released her second album Chaser (January 19th, 2020). The album features mostly love songs, rumored to be about her then boyfriend, NHL player Mathew Barzal. The album featured best sellers such as Cruel Simmer, Habits, and Happiness is a Butterfly.

As we stay on the topic of her ex boyfriend, she has been stuck in one scandal regarding her love life. In September of 2021, 20 months after releasing Chaser, there were paparazzi videos released of the IT couple in a shouting match on the street outside of popular restaurant, BOA Steakhouse, in Los Angeles, California. Video depicted Y/l/n crying as she fought with the hockey player, who was caught insulting Y/n very explicitly. The video ends with Barzal storming back into BOA Steakhouse, and Y/l/n sitting on the curb, awaiting her ride after the NHL star shouted, "Get a f***ing Uber back if you're going to be a b***h and embarrass me like this!" Bystanders watch as Y/l/n entered long time friend Tate McRae's car.

Less than a week later Y/n confirmed the end of the three year long relationship, with no further comments. While there have been no albums released since Chaser, in January 2020. Y/l/n has released two singles, Memories, and The Cut That Always Bleeds, both released in the summer of 2022.

As of now, December 2023, there has yet to be any major news of new music, but there's always the tiny bits and rumors that get down to the public. While Y/n has promised an album in 2024, she has yet to set a release, causing fans to believe it will come in the later months of the new year.

All in all, Y/n Y/l/n is a talented, young superstar. She captivates audiences like few can, and with the way her career is going now, could be one of the biggest star the world's ever seen. Most recently, Y/n was spotted in a cozy Baltimore suburb alongside Taylor Swift, who Y/n has repeatedly mentioned as her biggest influence when it comes to music, as well as her biggest fan. Swift seemed to take Y/n under her wing in 2019, even having Y/n open a stretch of her shows at The Eras Tour, in 2023, as well as the US shows in late 2024!

There are obviously large things in store for this young influential woman, and I can't help but applaud all of her hard work and dedication to her work.

Similar Artists

Taylor Swift

Gracie Abrahams

Conan Gray

Billie Eilish

[v6quewrlds]

Can you write a fic about Mat getting into a fight on the ice because an opponent said something about you

❝ guilty conscience, m. barzal. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: experimenting with how much i like posting in 3rd person. literally wrote this in my 2 hr philosophy lecture this morning because fuck thomas hobbes. somehow i write all day for my major and minors, yet somehow i still find the will to write these fics lmao.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: a little angsty. established couple argument. language warnings i think. mat is very mat in this one. short and sweet <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x fem!oc (malia).

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 3.6k.

Malia took a sip of her overpriced soda, the fizz tickling her nose as she surveyed the bustling arena. The smell of popcorn and the distant sound of skates slicing ice filled the air. It was her second time watching Mat play a home game for the New York Islanders, and she still felt like the new kid on the block. She wore her navy blue team jersey with "Barzal" emblazoned across the back, a gift from Mat for their two-month anniversary. She'd studied the rules and lingo, eager to fit in, but the pace of the sport still left her breathless.

Grace, the wife of the Islanders' captain Anders, leaned over and tapped her arm. "What do you think, so far?" she said with a knowing smile.

Malia smiled unconvincingly, trying to hide her nerves. Grace had been kind to her, but the other wives and girlfriends were a tougher nut to crack. They all had their own history, their own jokes, and Malia felt like she was trying to catch up on a TV show she'd started mid-season.

"Mat's really got his head in the game tonight," Malia said, hoping to steer the conversation away from her novice status. She watched as he zipped across the ice, stick handling the puck with ease, a blur of motion and concentration.

"Oh, absolutely," Grace agreed, her eyes glued to the action. "When he gets like that, it's like he's in a whole different world. They're all like that, really. Once they find their groove, it's like nothing else exists."

The game grew intense as the period neared its end. Malia felt the excitement of the crowd building like pressure in a pot. Mat's broke away down the ice, and Malia found herself leaning forward in her seat, heart racing. He was so fast, so graceful. It was easy to get lost in the flow of the game when he played. That's when it happened. The opponent, a burly player from the other team, had a smirk on his face as he checked Mat hard into the boards without warning. Malia's breath caught in her throat as Mat pushed himself back up, fists clenched. The smirk grew wider, and the other player opened his mouth to say something. Malia couldn't hear the words, but she saw Mat's face contort in anger.

Her eyes widened as she watched the scene unfold, a mix of horror and disbelief. The opponent had said something to set Mat off, something that made the usually disciplined player see red. Before she could even process what was happening, Mat had thrown his gloves to the ice and was throwing punches. The roar of the crowd grew to a crescendo as the two players grappled, their movements a violent shock. Malia's mind raced as she tried to understand why this was happening, why Mat was fighting.

It was all so raw, so primal.

Grace's grip on her arm tightened, her voice a low murmur. "It's okay, this is just part of the game."

But Malia felt anything but okay. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of fear and confusion. The other wives and girlfriends around her remained stoic, but she could see the concern flickering in their eyes. They knew the drill, had probably seen this a hundred times before, but for Malia, it was a jolting reality check.

Mat's fury was a living, breathing entity on the ice, a stark contrast to the loud, carefree persona he was around her. It was a complete shock to the system for Malia. The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing. She couldn't look away as players from both teams swarmed around them, trying to separate the combatants.

The referees eventually stepped in, breaking up the fight with a flurry of whistles and gestures. Mat was escorted to the penalty box, his teammates patting him on the back in a strange display of support. Malia's eyes remained glued to the ice, her mind racing with questions and fears she didn't know how to voice.

"You okay?" Alexa, Noah Dobson's girlfriend, leaned over, her eyes filled with empathy.

Malia nodded, her eyes not leaving Mat's figure in the penalty box. "I just... I didn't expect that."

Alexa chuckled softly. "Welcome to the league, hon. It's all part of the show."

Malia forced a smile, not sure if she was ready for this kind of drama. As the game resumed, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just seen a side of Mat she didn't know or particularly like either. The atmosphere in the arena had shifted, the electric tension of the fight still palpable. Despite the Islanders' lead, the air was thick with unspoken concern.

When the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Malia's nerves had her jumping out of her skin. The players skated off the ice, and she took the opportunity to excuse herself to the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe. The cold air greeted her as a departure from the sticky anxiousness of the rink. As she stared into the mirror, she wondered if she was cut out for this life, if the love she had for Mat was enough to handle the darker, more intense moments of his career.

Malia returned to her seat, the game still in progress, and found that Mat had been benched. She watched as he paced back and forth behind the glass, his eyes scanning the stands until they drifted to the Jumbotron after being nudged by a few guys Malia had not met yet.

Malia's focus on her boyfriend was broken as a few of the other girls tapped her on the shoulder, her wide eyes blasted onto the Jumbotron. She forced a smile, her eyes darting away from her face in embarrassment as she realized that the arena cameramen had noticed her #13 jersey. He offered a weak smile as she turned back to him, his eyes still watching her on the screen. She could see the apology in his eyes. He knew she was still trying her best to wrap her head around the culture and rules of the game she was learning to love for his sake.

The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the match. The Islanders had won despite the scuffle, and Malia felt an odd mix of relief and dread as the players started to make their way off the ice. The group of them gathered their things, and she watched as Mat skated over to the bench to exchange a few words with the coach before disappearing into the locker room.

Grace gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "You'll get used to it," she said with a knowing smile. "It's part of the game. They get caught up in the moment."

Malia nodded, not entirely convinced. She knew that fights were a part of hockey, but seeing Mat so consumed by rage was unsettling, so unlike the boyfriend she knew. She sent Mat a short text, telling him she'd wait in the car for him instead of waiting with the others by the locker rooms. The coolness of the night air outside the arena brought air back into her lungs as she stepped into the parking lot. She leaned against the cold metal of the car, her heart still racing from the adrenaline rush of the fight.

When Mat emerged from the arena, his eyes searched the lot until they found her, his expression a completely devoid of any anger or self-awareness. He looked tired but victorious as he approached, his dark, fluffy hair beginning to dry from his shower. He opened the passenger door with his trademark crooked grin. "You didn't wait in the usual spot."

Malia looked at him, confusion evident on her face though she quickly pushed it aside. Maybe she was making too big a deal of it. "I just needed some air," she said, sliding into the car. "How are you feeling?"

Mat shrugged as he closed the door. "Fine. Why?" His tone was light, almost casual as he slid into the driver's seat. It was as if the fight had never happened. He threw his bag into the back and started the car, the engine rumbling to life.

"You know, the fight," Malia said, trying to keep her voice even. "You guys were really going at it."

Mat's eyes darted to her, then back to the road. "Oh, that. Just part of the game, babe. No big deal."

Malia's jaw tightened. "It looked pretty big to me." She couldn't ignore the fear that had gripped her during the fight.

Mat sighed, his eyes still on the road. "Look, it's just the heat of the moment. Sometimes things get intense out there."

Malia stared out the window, the city lights blurring together as they drove. "I guess," she muttered with a quiet sigh. She knew Mat was trying to downplay it, but she couldn't shake the image of his furious expression.

Mat's hand reached over and gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

Malia took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, his calloused hand falling away from her skin. "Yeah, just tired I guess. Long day."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. The fight had left her emotionally drained. She'd seen Mat get competitive, sure, but never violent. It was a side of him she didn't know how to reconcile with the man who made her laugh and supported her studies so wholeheartedly.

The silence in the car grew thick as they approached Mat's apartment. Malia felt a knot in her stomach tighten. This wasn't the same playful tension they usually shared; it was heavier, denser, and less fun. When they pulled into the parking lot, Mat turned to her, his jaw set with tension as if he was bracing for something.

"What's up with you?" he asked, his voice a mix of annoyance and genuine concern.

Malia's eyes rolled before she turned to face him. "What's up with me? I don't know Mat, maybe I just didn't like seeing you like that." Her voice was a mix of anger and fear.

Mat looked at her with a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Like what? It's just hockey. Shit like that happens all the time."

Malia's voice grew stronger as she turned to face him fully. "But you've never fought before, at least not since we've been together. What even was that?"

Mat's expression grew defensive. "It happened hours ago, Malia. Why are we even talking about this right now?"

Malia's eyes filled with frustration. "Because it's not just 'shit that happens' to me. That was you out there fighting for... what? Some kind of ego trip?" She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't help the words from spilling out.

Mat's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "It's not like that, and you know it," he snapped. "It was a cheap hit..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching. Malia remained silent, holding back her growing anger as Mat pulled into a parking spot in the garage. They exited the car, stubbornness palpable in the air between them as they rode the elevator to his floor.

Once inside the apartment, Mat tossed his keys onto the counter and turned to her, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You're overreacting. It's part of the game."

Malia threw her purse onto the couch, her voice rising with frustration. "Maybe for you it is, but I've never seen you like that!" She felt a tremor of fear and anger at his dismissiveness. "What if you had gotten seriously hurt?"

Mat stared at her, his eyes darting over her features as he took a step closer. "That's not going to happen. I know what I'm doing out there."

Malia stepped back, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. "It's not just about you knowing what you're doing. It's about the fact that I don't want to see you like that. It scared me, Mat."

Mat groaned, running a hand through his damp hair. "But I didn't get hurt," he said, his voice still holding on to its edge. "Can we just drop it?"

Malia's eyes narrowed, looking for a hint of understanding. "No, we can't just drop it," she said firmly. "You're not the only one affected by what happens on the ice. You're my boyfriend, and when you're out there fighting like that, it's not just about the game." She turned on her heels, huffing as she stalked off to Mat's bedroom.

Mat followed her, his frustration evident in the heavy thud of his feet on the floor. "What do you want me to say, Malia?" he called after her. "It's not like I was planning on fighting."

Malia spun around in the doorway to the bedroom, her eyes flashing. "I want you to say that you get it. That you understand that I don't want to see you hurt or risking your health over some stupid shit, Mathew." He took a deep breath, his eyes closing as his temper flared again.

Malia turned her back to him, her hands shaking slightly as she unbuttoned her coat. "And for the record," she added, her voice trembling, "The only thing that actually matters to me is that you're okay."

"And I'm completely fine," Mat said, his voice tight as he stepped closer to her. "It's not like it's the first time I've thrown a punch, Malia. I'm not some fragile porcelain doll you have to worry about."

Malia whipped around, her own anger rising to match his. "I don't give a fuck about what you're used to, or what the sport expects from you!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway. "I care about you, and what you do out there affects me! You were a different person out there, and I didn't like it!"

Mat stopped in his tracks, his face a mask of shock. Malia had never raised her voice at him. In fact, the first time they met, he constantly had to ask her to repeat herself with her voice so shy. The sight of her fuming with emotion was enough to make his eyebrows furrow. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his own anger in check.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice low and tight. "I'm out there playing the game I love, trying to win for my team, and for you to sit here and act like it's all about you and what you want..."

"Do you think? Ever?" Malia's voice cracked, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. She didn't mean for it to come out so loud, so harsh, but the fear and frustration had been building up inside her like a pressure cooker. She couldn't stand there any longer, listening to Mat belittle her feelings. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the bedroom.

Mat followed her, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his voice rising to match hers.

"I'm not doing this with you. If you don't want to talk about it, fine, but don't act like I'm some kind of drama queen," Malia retorted, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. She couldn't believe that he was making it sound like her fear was unreasonable. Her hands shook as she bit back tears, her straightened hair falling out of place from the stress of the evening.

Mat's face softened a little, and he took a step closer to her. "Malia, come on. You're really gonna leave because of this?"

But Malia was already halfway to the door, her heart racing with the need to get out of the apartment. "I don't know," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I just can't be here right now."

Mat sighed, hesitating to speak for a moment before he reached out to grab her arm. His grip was firm but not painful. "Don't go. I'm being a dick, I know, I'm sorry. Let's just talk this out."

Malia paused, her hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath, the cold metal feeling solid and reassuring under her fingertips. She turned to face him, her eyes still shiny with unshed tears. "Mat, I'm not trying to control you. I just want you to understand that it's hard to watch someone you care about lose it like that."

Mat let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice calmer. "I get it. It's just... he said something about you."

Malia froze. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice low and cold.

Mat sighed heavily, his grip on her arm loosening. "He made a joke, some dumbass, weird joke about you. It pissed me off, and I couldn't just ignore it 'cause he kept goin’." His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of understanding.

Malia's heart skipped a beat. She had never thought that someone would say something so disrespectful about her, especially not to Mat's face. "What did he say?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mat's eyes grew dark with anger. "It doesn't matter. It was just a stupid comment, but it hit a nerve."

Malia felt a twist in her stomach. She didn't know what was worse: the fact that Mat had gotten into a fight for her or that someone had talked about her in such a way. "Mat, you can't fight every battle for me," she said softly, turning to face him. "I'm not on the ice, those guys will say whatever they think is gonna rile you up. They don’t know me. I’m just some girl to them. It’s not worth it.”

Mat's expression grew serious as he stepped closer to her, his hand dropping from her arm to cradle her face instead. "You're not just some girl, Malia. You're everything to me. And when someone disrespects you like that..." His voice trailed off, the intensity of his emotions clear in his eyes. "I couldn't just let it go. That's the least I can do for you."

Malia's gaze searched his, the anger in her heart slowly giving way to the love she had for him. She knew he didn't mean to downplay her strength, but the thought of him fighting over her hurt more than she cared to admit. She leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding her. "I love you," she whispered. "But I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Mat's expression softened, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. "I love you too," he murmured. "And I'll do my best to keep my cool out there if that's what you want."

Malia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night's events start to lift. "Don't 'if you want' me Mathew Barzal, do it because it's the right thing to do," she said with a hint of a smile.

Mat chuckled, his own smile spreading across his face. "Okay, okay," he conceded, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "But you know how competitive I am."

Malia rolled her eyes but couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her at his touch. "I know," she said, her voice softer. "Just remember that I'm not just some prize to be won or lost out there. I'm your girlfriend, and I chose you."

Mat nodded, his thumb still caressing her cheek. "I know," he murmured. "And I'm sorry that I made it seem like that. It won't happen again." He spoke decisively before bending down to connect their lips.

Malia leaned into the kiss, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders melt away. "I just want you to be safe," she said, her voice muffled against his lips.

Mat pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "I know," he murmured. "And I promise, I'll keep that in mind. I don't want to scare you."

Malia's eyes met his, the fear and anger slowly receding as she saw the sincerity in his gaze. She took another deep breath and nodded. "Okay."

Mat's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against her chest. They stood there for a moment, the tension in the room slowly dissipating.

"I know this isn't easy for you," he murmured into her hair. "But you gotta trust me out there."

Malia leaned into his embrace, the smell of his post-game musk mixing with the faint scent of his cologne. It was a familiar scent, one that brought comfort amidst the chaos of her emotions. "I will," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

They stood there for a few moments longer before they both pulled away. Mat smiled down at her, the tension in his face slowly receding. "Now that that's over, do I get a reward for the win tonight?" he asked playfully, his eyes lightening.

Malia couldn't help but roll her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Maybe," she said, her voice teasing.

"Only maybe?" Malia heard the playful challenge in Mat's voice as she walked away from him. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look that was part glare, part smile.

"You're lucky you scored that winning goal." She brushed past her boyfriend with a swish of her hips, heading towards the bedroom. The bold 'Barzal' stuck out across her back, a symbol of her commitment to supporting him. Mat caught himself staring as Malia turned to him with a flourish of her hair.

"Are you coming?" Malia called over her shoulder, her voice a mix of tease and challenge.

Mat's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched her retreating form, his playfulness momentarily forgotten. He hurried after her, trying to match her pace as they entered the bedroom.

"I'm about to be," he quipped, his voice filled with affection, drawing a “Gross!” and a giggle from Malia.

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 4

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: not edited, angst, mentions of alcohol, pregnancy, food word count: 1.3k authors note: sorry it's late & short but i was sick and then had writers block. i hope u guys like it!! if u like it let me know but if you hate it also let me know. also HUGE thanks to @barzysbaby for the help with this chapter!! it probably wouldn't have been finished without your help! if anyone wants to be added or taken off the tag list, let me know! you can shoot me a dm, send an ask or fill out my tag list form.

requests are open 🫶🏻 masterlist masterpost ask box taglist form

After your unexpected heart-to-heart with Mat, you begin to realize that you’re starting to tread on some thin ice with your relationship with him. Letting those feelings you’d tucked away start to come back was a recipe for disaster because you had Nora to think about. If he really wanted to be a part of her life, the two of you couldn’t start a relationship because if it went wrong, it would ruin the opportunity for him to be in her life comfortably. 

However, the problem is how perceptive Nora can be. 

Letting yourself have ‘just one moment’ with Mat last night was a bad idea because you wake up on the couch the next morning, Mat holding you close, and a grumpy six-year-old demanding breakfast. 

“Eggs please,” Nora demands, curious eyes watching you and Mat. When you make no move to get up off the couch and get her breakfast, she stomps a foot and crosses her arms.

“Grandma said I could have eggs for breakfast,” she says and then pauses before adding: “and she said I could have pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes.”

“You’re not at grandma’s, are you?” you reply, watching her frown. 

“Well then can you bring me to grandma’s?” she replies without missing a beat.

You open your mouth to tell her no, you won’t be bringing her to grandmas with that attitude when Mat interrupts. 

“I’ll make some pancakes,” he mumbles sleepily, sitting up and pulling you with him. You turn to tell him no but your mouth goes dry because you forgot how good he looks in the morning. You’re staring long enough that he notices and a smirk tugs at his mouth but he doesn’t say anything, instead standing up and offering a hand to Nora. 

“Let’s go make mom some pancakes,” he says and she smiles up at him and it’s just so damn domestic that you want to cry.  

You watch them walk over to the kitchen and start preparing the ingredients while you sit there, trying to pull yourself together. He’s falling so seamlessly into being a parent that you can’t decide how to feel. His attentiveness and patience with her could be temporary and then when he realizes how hard being a parent really is, you’ll be left to clean up the mess he leaves behind. On the other hand, he might be serious about the entire thing and everything could work out.

Nora's giggles catch your attention and you look to see Mat cracking an egg on her forehead like the video he had sent you a few days ago, claiming that he would try it on Nora. Almost as if he can sense that you’re watching them, he looks up and catches your eye and grins, tilting his head slightly.

“You wanna help or just sit there all morning?” he teases so you stand up and make your way to the kitchen to stand next to Nora, kissing the forehead when she grins up at you. 

“How can I help?”

. . .

It was inevitable that the hockey world would catch wind that Mathew Barzal had a child. Whether it was his now ex-girlfriend, or just someone from home that spilled the beans, suddenly all the sports sites had articles up about it. They can't legally say Nora’s name or show photos of her because she’s still a minor, but they can definitely dig up old high school pictures and find your instagram.

It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together for people to realize that you were his baby mama. You had to turn your social media accounts private because you were suddenly having people comment on your photos, and sending DM’s. Most of them weren’t the nicest, accusing you of kid-trapping Mat and while you knew that it was useless to be upset over it, it was hard. They didn’t and would never know the details but it bothered you to no end, and unfortunately, you took your frustration out on Mat, who took whatever you threw at him. You said things you regretted the next morning and he would just smile and tell you it was fine. 

But it wasn’t, and everything crashed down about two weeks after the first article was posted. You woke up to your phone buzzing, calls and texts from your mom, Jax, some other friends and even Liana. 

And a single text from Mat that had just two words, and a link attached.  

baby daddy: I'm sorry. instagram.com/matbarzal 

It was a statement, clearly written by a PR Manager from the Islanders organization. The statement basically said that Mathew Barzal did not in fact have a child. It was just a rumor floating around that a disgruntled fan spread. A lot of people called it bullshit, saying that it was PR cleaning up a mess, which technically they were doing. Then, there were the fans and journalists who did believe the statement and tried to take back whatever they may have said that was mean. 

It wasn’t the things other people were saying about it though, it was what Mat wasn’t saying. After the post, he ghosted you for four days, ignoring all the texts and calls even when they were about Nora. Liana and Nadia still asked to see Nora on the weekend that she normally does so you dropped her off Friday evening, noticing that Mat’s car was nowhere to be seen. Nadia and Liana didn’t say anything about the situation, just thanking you for letting Nora stay over for the night and promising to call if anything came up. You didn’t have anything planned so you went back to your apartment, hoping to catch up on some overdue work you’d been letting pile up.

Halfway through writing a draft for a chapter, there’s a knock on your door. You’re once again suspecting it to be Nadia or Liana with Nora but you come face to face with Mat.

Again.

His eyes are trained on the ground, refusing to meet yours. There are a thousand things you want to say, most of them not nice at all but what comes out is: “beer?” 

His head shoots up, clearly not expecting that response from you but he nods his head and walks in when you step to the side. He toes off his shoes and walks straight towards the kitchen. By instinct, he opens the fridge to get himself a drink and then pauses, looking at you sheepishly.

“Beer?”

“Water,” you reply and he nods, passing you a bottle of water. You both sit at the kitchen island, drinking your respectable drinks in silence until he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know that they were going to write that. Our public relations manager wrote it and just told me to post it. My agent asked her to clean things up a little because it was getting out of hand. I didn’t want to hurt you or Nora, I swear.” 

“It’s too late for that,” you say sharply. “You said you want to be in Nora’s life but she can’t be a secret, Mat! You can’t say you want to try, and then turn around and tell the world that she’s not yours. If you’re not going to be in this one-hundred percent, then you shouldn’t be here at all.” 

He must take your last statement as a dismissal because he stands up, slips his shoes on and leaves, closing the door a little harder than necessary. 

You sit in silence far too long, part of you foolishly hoping that Mat will come back but you know he won’t. Not today at least. So, you go back to working on your draft but you can’t focus. Part of you wants to try and put yourself in his shoes, to try and understand why he didn’t fight harder against what public relations wanted but you can’t. You can’t imagine not being Nora’s mom and you wonder if maybe this is the way out he was hoping for. Maybe he decided that being a parent was fun for a little while, but when he understood the real consequences and struggles that come along with it, he realized he didn’t want it. That he didn’t want Nora.

Maybe this is his out.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @teapartydreams @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @topguncultleader @shadowsndaisies @lovinbarzal

[drewsbuzzcut]

Right Where You Left Me

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: angst, self inflicted doubts, slight jealousy, lack of communication, age gaps, break ups, alcohol consumption, and I think that’s all

this takes place when they were just dating

You sit in your bedroom, trying to stop your tears from falling as you look out your window. It’s to no avail.

How could a perfect night end up so terribly wrong? You were meant to celebrate your latest magazine cover with Mat in attendance. Now you’re crying your eyes out, wishing you never invited him along.

The night started off great. You and Mat walked around, socializing with everyone there. You both had a couple drinks and Mat quite literally never left your side. He was proud of you and wanted to see how appreciated you are. You’re the one who left his side. Never in your life have you been the jealous type, but when you walked back to Mat after getting you and him drinks from the bar, you weren’t expecting to see him so enthusiastically talking to another woman. His smile is wide to the point you can see his dimples. His body language is relaxed and her’s is laced with interest. Why wouldn’t she be?

You linger back, halting your steps in favor of letting the crowd drown you out from where you’re witnessing Mat and the woman’s conversation. Deciding to avoid them, you turn and find someone to talk to. Your conversation is only a distraction especially when you can hear the distinct sound of your boyfriend’s laughter. You peek over your shoulder only to regret it the second you catch a glance at the woman he’s talking to. She’s a woman. In every sense. Her makeup is so elegant and light. Her hair is perfectly curled and pinned, and her outfit looks like it was designed just for her. She’s everything you’re insecure about- especially in regard to your relationship and age gap with Mat.

You bite the bullet and excuse yourself from who you were talking to, making your way to the person you wish you didn’t want to avoid.

“Hi,” you mumble and mentally slap yourself for coming off as shy or intimidated.

“Y/n! Hi, honey. Your cover is fantastic! For a young model you sure do have an amazing resume,” she compliments you, her words have a way of punching your gut.

“Thank you! That means a lot,” you try to fake a smile and she buys it, but you can see Mat look at you from the corner of your eye.

“I am so sorry. Where are my manners? This is Mathew Barzal, he’s a hockey player. I don’t know how he ended up at an event like this, but we were just talking about hockey. As an older Canadian who grew up around hockey, I was attempting to school him. I wanted to see if he knew his own game as well as I do,” the woman says, cocking her head to the side in utter confidence.

You knew she was older.

You give her another faint smile before responding.

“He’s a great hockey player. Mat’s my boyfriend,” you state and watch as realization crosses her facial features.

“My goodness, sorry. He didn’t mention he was here with his girlfriend, but I guess it never really came up. Wow! How did a man like you end up with a girl like Y/n? I would’ve expected you to be with someone around your age and not as busy,” she has the audacity to say to your face.

“I can keep up with him just fine, thanks for your concern,” you bite, smiling sarcastically.

“She’s the best girlfriend,” Mat finally decided to contribute to the conversation. He throws an arm over your shoulders, but you quickly remove yourself after bidding a quick goodbye to the woman whose name you’re glad you didn’t learn.

You never wanted to see her again.

“Are you okay?” Mat asks, catching up to you and resting a hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you say stoically.

“No you’re not,” he points out.

“Then why’d you ask?” You snap, still facing away from him.

“What the hell is going on?” He grabs your shoulders and turns you towards him.

“What the hell is going on with you and that lady?” You question.

Mat looks confused because why are you angry about him talking to someone else. Mat looks confused because why are you tearing up and not making eye contact with him?

“What are you talking about?” He tries to reach for your hands, but you pull them away from him before he can touch you.

“Stop doing that,” he whispers.

His veins on his neck are already starting to pop out and his face is getting flushed. He’s having a hard time being patient with you.

“Can you take me home?” You ask silently.

“Can you answer my question?”

“No, because if I do, we’re just going to fight,” you answer.

“Why would you, answering my question, make us fight? If anything, you not answering my question and ignoring me is what’s pissing me off,” he claims, a warning in his tone.

You drag your fingers through your hair and turn away from him again. You can feel your chest heave even though you’re trying to hide it. You face him again, your teary eyes flashing up at him. The crinkle in between your eyebrows gets Mat to close the distance and smooth out the skin with his thumb. You hold onto his wrist and push his hand away.

“You looked like you were really enjoying your conversation with her. Like I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so animated, not even with me,” you whisper and shut your eyes.

Mat’s eyebrows turn down in a frown and his lips form into a semi-frown.

“That can’t be true, and we were just talking about hockey. You know I love hockey,” he says.

“You never talk with me about hockey, besides game details. I know you know that hockey isn’t my favorite, but when it comes to you I’d talk about anything.”

“I don’t mean to not talk about hockey with you. I can change that, though, easily,” he tries to calm your worries, but you can’t stop the thoughts in your head.

“The thing is that you can find it so easy to talk to another woman about something that you find hard to talk about with me,” you counter. Your face pinches up in discomfort.

“You can’t place all of that blame on me,” he responds.

“I’m not trying to blame just you. She just seemed really interested in you and what she said was bitchy. She made it seem like you both were flirting,” you stress.

“That wasn’t my case. I was just talking to her about hockey,” Mat defends himself. You believe him but those damn thoughts in your head can’t be silenced.

“I just can’t get over the vibe I got from the way you looked so cozy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me. I’m telling the truth that nothing was or is going on with that woman. It was just a conversation. I don’t know how to get through to you,” he says through clenched teeth.

You grab onto his hand for the first time since you started this conversation. You squeeze them gently before looking into Mat’s eyes.

“That’s my fault. I just- I thought maybe you didn’t know how to handle me, but maybe I don’t know how to handle you. You and all that you come with. Maybe you should be with someone older and not some little girl who doesn’t know what she’s dealing with,” you admit through soft cracks of your voice.

Mat wipes away your tears, looking down at you with a saddened expression.

“No. No, please don’t do this. You are perfect for me. I don’t want a girlfriend if it’s not you, you know me,” he argues, shaking his head repeatedly and continuously wiping away your tears.

“We’re at different stages in life. You need someone older. Someone who isn’t me! I’m not right for you and clearly that’s noticeable to everyone except us,” you explain, flitting your eyes up to his only to regret it once you see nothing but pain in them.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you giving up on us? You’re the love of my life, that much I’m sure of. It’s only 5 years. We’re both adults,” he states, holding onto your face even though it’s no use.

“Can you please just take me home?”

Mat doesn’t say anything. He bitterly nods his head and moves away from you, begrudgingly walking to his car.

The car ride is quiet and tense. The air condition isn’t enough to drown out the silence or your sniffles. Each time Mat hears you, he flinches and recoils his hands before he can fully reach out to touch you.

When he parks outside of your apartment, he hastily gets out to open your door for you. Your heart twists in an ache that seems like it’ll be a permanent visitor. You’re going to miss him so much.

“I can get up by myself,” you mutter when you realize he’s following you inside.

“Please, Y/n. I love you,” he pulls you back by your hand, a hand going to your waist because he physically can’t let go of you.

“And I love you. That’s why we can’t be together. You deserve someone better,” you stress.

“You don’t get it. There is no one better. There is just you. You, Y/n L/n, the love of my life. What do I need to do to make you believe that? What have I done to make you doubt me?”

“Nothing. Follow me or don’t follow me up, but we’re done, okay?” You pull out of his grasp, hoping and begging that he doesn’t follow you.

When you get to your door, your shaking hands fumble the keys and struggle to unlock your door. You can feel his presence behind you and it makes you feel worse. You rip the door open, hoping that behind it there’s fresh air. You turn to close it, rapidly blinking your tears away as you stare into Mat’s eyes. You see his red rimmed eyes and the defeated gaze in his face, but you don’t have it in yourself to say anything. You close the door in his face and wait a few minutes for him to leave so you can break down completely. You had no idea that he spent the entire night outside your front door, hearing you sob and fighting with himself to find a way to comfort you.

a/n: Enjoy some Mat and model!reader angst!

[starry-hughes]

hey mat(t)hew

mat barzal x reader, matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: cheating, angst, mentions of sex, more angst, barzy ends up heartbroken but so does tkachuk, inspired by the song hey ben (games we play & hoodie allen)

summary: matthew finds out you have another boyfriend who happens to be closer to him than he would have ever guessed.

navigation

I got some things that I've been meaning to get off my chest. Been holding on to this so long, I've never been so stressed. 

Mathew Barzal was never expecting a text from a random number addressing him as Mathew. He didn’t even know who this was. Why was this person addressing him as if they knew one another, as if they had something in common?

“Hey Mathew… hate to be the bearer of bad news..”

That’s how the text started. 

And this might just weird you out, But I flagged you down to say, I know we haven't met, But we've got tons of friends in common, And lying isn't me, so I'll just be completely honest. 

You had wanted to get out of Fort Lauderdale since you were a teenager. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, acceptance to NYU and funding from your parents, you were in New York. The plan wasn’t to find a job right out of graduation and work for a company based in Fort Lauderdale. Luckily, you didn’t have to return there often, just for the occasional, one-time-a-month trip, your job letting you work remotely for the most part. 

Your life was perfect. A college degree, a job, and a hot boyfriend, Mathew Barzal. Your life was enjoyable, being a hockey girlfriend and successful. It wasn’t that Mat was a bad boyfriend. He was great. He would buy expensive gifts, tell you that he loves you, everything you could ask for. 

Both traveling for work, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to go down to Florida for work while Mat was traveling as well, he’d be on the West Coast while you were down in Florida, sitting through boring meetings. He’d text you good morning and good night, call you if he could, and tell you he loved you. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you. Maybe it was the fact that a minor argument had happened while you were packing to leave on your work trip of the month and Mathew was staying in New York for the week. You were staying at a rental house, paid for by your company, it was a nice place in a nice area: Sunrise, Florida. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend I was under the impression she was my girlfriend. Don't worry, it won't happen again. But, hey Ben, I can't make any promises. 

Matthew Tkachuk had been on the Florida Panthers for a short time when he stumbled into you. You were on a jog, needing to clear your head about your rocky relationship back home. Matthew was rounding his car, walking to the trunk when you jogged by and startled him. You ripped out your headphones, huffing an apology. “It’s okay,” Matthew flashed a smile at you, “I’ve never seen you around here.” 

With your hands on your hips, you suddenly feel something, lust. “Just here on a work trip, can I help you with groceries? Since I startled you.” He had completely forgotten about the groceries in his trunk, the Publix bags staring at him. 

You ended up sleeping with Matthew Tkachuk that night. 

You felt guilty. Horrible. But the sex was too good. It would be a secret, one you wanted to take to the grave. A one-time thing. You’d delete his number, forget his name and the way his beard scratched your thighs. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend. I guess she went and fucked around with both our heads, I think I might have ruined your day. Hey Ben, I'm sorry that you found out from me. 

Mathew didn’t notice anything was off. You had decided not to tell him. You got home and everything was fine. He apologized, gave you a pretty necklace and told you he loved you. Everything was fine. 

Except when your phone would buzz in the middle of the night. You had hidden WhatsApp in one of your app folders, Mathew believed it was for work. Matthew, from Florida, would send texts, saying he was thinking about you, thinking about the night you shared. 

You knew it was wrong, but when your boyfriend fell asleep next to you, you were texting Matthew. Scandalous pictures of your clevage exchanged when Mathew was on a roadie, texts regarding your next visit to Florida, and he was totally convinced you lived in a studio apartment in New York City. 

You let it continue. Every trip for work, you would spend your nights, telling Mathew you were going to bed, and then ending up in Matthew’s bed. You even had the excuse in your head, their names were the same, it wasn’t like you were moaning someone else’s name during the night. You could use autocorrect as an excuse, telling your boyfriend that your phone corrected his name from Mathew to Matthew. 

It wasn't that Mathew was a bad boyfriend. He gave you love through gifts and kind words. But with Matthew it was different, everything was different. He wasn't telling you that he loved you but he cared. Mathew was soft and Matthew was rough, polar opposites. And having one was not good enough for you apparently.

Your fault in everything was never paying enough attention to your boyfriend’s career. He didn’t mind it. Mathew was fine if you missed his game and didn’t even care to watch from home. You didn’t bother asking Matthew what he did for work, but god there was just something familiar about his face. You shrugged off all the feelings though. But, you let Matthew call you his girlfriend, it was easier to say than situtionship. You told him you didn’t have a social media presence and he fully believed you. 

And I know we've never met But we have so much in common. If you don't believe me, check to see my skeleton in her closet. 

Matthew had found out through someone else. His teammate, Sam Reinhart, next to him on the plane to Dallas, scrolling through Instagram. Matthew saw your face, saw you smiling in the picture, Mathew Barzal kissing your cheek, a piece of jewlery on your finger. And his stomach dropped. 

How do you tell someone you’re the side piece? Matthew fell down the rabbit hole of Mat Barzal’s social media, finding your private Instagram, the one you claimed you didn’t have. Pictures and pictures on Barzal’s Instagram, featuring you, featuring you and him in the summers, Italian vacations, wearing a WAG jacket during the playoffs. 

Matthew’s jaw clenched, he was better than Barzal, hell his team made it further in the 2022-2023 playoffs. He was obviously better at something, why else would you be calling him every time you were in Florida. He knew it was wrong at the end of the day, he didn’t stand for cheaters, and he wouldn’t be a dick and keep his knowledge to himself. 

A couple of texts later, Matthew was granted Mathew’s number. “Hey Mathew… Hate to be the bearer of bad news… but, I think you should know this. I kinda slept with your girlfriend.” 

And I know you'll find the dirt behind The dates and times, the alibis The text she sent November 9th. I dare you, ask to read it. 

Mathew Barzal didn’t want to believe it at first. He had just proposed, everything was perfect in his opinion. He wanted to believe it was a prank. He didn’t want to think his girlfriend, who was sleeping besides him in his shirt was cheating on him. 

Matthew Tkachuk was angry, he was upset. He knew if he was in Mat’s spot, he wouldn’t want to believe it either. But suddenly everything became so clear. How he ignored the shoes in the background of your picture, how he once saw you answering a text about spending the summer in Coquitlam. How you would suddenly text him more the nights that the New York Islanders play. 

November 9, 2022 

“I’ll be in Florida tomorrow.” You had texted him. 

November 9, 2023

“You okay?” You texted when you realized he hadn’t texted you back in a while, leaving your last flirty text on read. 

The screenshots of the texts made Mathew sick to his stomach. In less than a month, he’d be in Florida, sharing the ice with Matthew. He didn’t know if he could make it through a game with this knowledge. The two boys had agreed on telling you they knew. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend. I guess she went and fucked around with both our heads. 

Sweet revenge for them both came December 2. You had panicked when Mathew told you he’d be in Florida at the same time you’d be on your work trip. You couldn’t just go and sleep with Matthew at the same time you fiance was in the city. The large diamond ring on your finger suddenly feeling very heavy. 

“How about we stay at the house your company rents you?” Mathew pressed a kiss to your lips. Even though he was about to change things, he still kissed you. “In Sunrise?” you squeaked. “Yeah, it’s not that much further from our arena.” 

You felt sick the whole time, making an excuse to Mathew. He was just in town for the night, just for the Panthers game. Then he’d be gone. “I’m going to shower,” you kissed his cheek. He nodded and as soon as you disappeared from sight, he texted the man down the street. 

“Mat? Baby? Have you seen my hairbrush?” your hair was wet still, you were so focused on drying the tips of your hair that you didn’t even realize Mat had removed his duffle bag from the bedroom. And the engagement ring you left on the dresser had been removed. 

You could have laughed at everything. At the end of the day, it was your doing. “Hey baby, did you know Matthew lives down the road? He plays with the Panthers, knows Reinhart.” 

It was ironic. Your perfect life crumbling in front of you. It was your fault. Why did it hurt? The room was painfully silent as your mouth went dry and the food you’d eaten hours before seemed to be ready to exit out of your mouth. “I, I-” you stuttered, tears filling your eyes as Matthew nodded, jaw clenched. 

“Well,” Matthew’s voice boomed, “I should go, considering you guys probably have a lot more to discuss.” Matthew brushed by you and let himself out. There would be no hard feelings between the two boys. 

“Mat baby I didn’t-” 

“I’ll be back on Long Island Sunday night. I’ll pack your things.” 

“Mathew.” 

He shook his head, eyes full of tears of betrayal and hurt. “No, you don’t get to fix this. I saw the texts, I know everything.” 

“Mathew please,” you dry heaved. “Was it worth it?” Mat’s words laced with venom, “I hope it was worth it.” 

[bitchinbarzal]

make roll angst pls to deal with what your going through (sorry that you’re going through it i’ve been there and it’s not easy, sending you love) where they have to think about putting rolo down but they don’t have too and the barzals cope with getting rolo a friend

“We can’t put the dog down!”

“You heard what the vet said mat”

Mat sighed “you have to tell Ivy”

“Mat!” “What?! She’s going to cry and then I’ll cry”

You scowled “Mathew…”

He put his hands up “Babe I mean it, I’ve delivered bad news but this? It’ll kill me”

The two of you went back and forth for about an hour before the vet called you, you expected the worst

“Hello?”

You watched Mat’s face as he discussed the dog with the vet.

When he hung up he was silent until you yell

“Speak! C’mon!”

“He said Rolo is fine, he did an X-ray and that he has Lego in his bowel but it can be removed”

You let out the loudest sigh of relief “Oh thank fuck!”

Later; when you’d gone to pick Rolo up from the vet the technician joked with you “While you’re here we have an adoption event going on, care for a puppy?” All while staring at Wyatt, only seven months old in your arms.

When hearing puppy Wyatt smiled and clapped her hands and Mat couldn’t resist “You want a puppy Wy? Shall we get a puppy for WyWy?”

And that’s how you ended up with two dogs and three less legos in your home.

[thedevilrisen]

Uhhh one I hope that whoever hit my baby got suspended from the league for quite a few games bc no one touches nova

And two yes I’d love more 😚

Yes he did! He missed five games and had a wicked black eye because an angry Mathew barzal was having non of it.

shit, now I don’t know what else to give you that won’t spoil future fics. OH hehe I know, angst.

-

Luke sprinted with everything he had down the hall past the locker room, having been in rinks his whole life he was confident he could find the ice. Security guards blocked his was and arguing was fruitless, Luke had never been overly emotional but now with tears brimming his eyes and some falling down his cheeks he screamed for her, she needed to know he was there, that he hadn’t left her like everyone else did.

“NOVA! NOVS IM HERE ITS OKAY!” he cried out as he was pushed away to allow for medical staff to rush past.