#being told whether we the player are in on it or regardless of if we ever even know (or if we care to pay attention)

[countdown-til-sanders-take-over]

this is a formal apology for every time i've read ur fnaf theories, gone "ah... of course! yes!" and then forgotten to respond

This is a formal apology for every time I've read one of your asks, not immediately had a TQ&/E, and forgotten to respond

[noonrise]

Another mainstream Fallout game without mulchable human enemies. Instead, there is a tight intercommunity on a much smaller map, where the player begins in long stretches of isolation. The first NPCs the player see is through the scope of their trusty rifle, with names like Bandit and Raider. It's a Fallout game.

Do you take the shot?

[youunravelme]

meant just for you // part one

author's note: long time no see! i'm (somewhat) back! i'm really excited to share this story with everyone, but it wouldn't be possible without bestie girl @thewintersoldierdisaster who has helped me tremendously along the way. thank you so much, p! this is for you :)

summary: you have a history of dating around and hooking up. after seeing your teammates start to settle down, you and mat make a bet to see who can fall in love first.

pairing: mat barzal x pwhl!reader

warnings: mentions of sex (though no actual smut because i can't write that to save my life), cursing, toxic boyfriends

the meeting

being selected for the all star pwhl 3 on 3 showcase was an honor in and of itself, one you didn't take lightly. it was even sweeter since it was held in your hometown, ubs in elmont, new york. 

you worked hard to get where you were today, not coming from money. sure your parents would be upper class anywhere else, but on long island? middle class. add on the extra expenses of skating lessons, goalie gear, and club fees on two teachers’ salaries, there wasn’t much cash left over when it was all said and done.

safe to say, your mom and dad shed actual tears when you were drafted to the sirens. whether they were tears of joy or tears of relief (from the fact that they hadn't wasted money on a career that would never be), you weren't sure. they probably would've cried regardless of what team, but knowing you were just across the river was a huge relief for them.

“proud of you squirt,” your dad said into your hair. “it’s time for you to start carrying your own goalie bag and peeling your oranges, now.”

you rolled your eyes. “i've been doing that for years, dad.”

“not the oranges,” your mom chimed in.

you grimaced. “i don't like the feeling of the peel getting under my nails. it’s gross.”

safe to say, you were ecstatic to tell your parents you were playing in the 2026 pwhl showcase. your parents had squeezed you so tightly in a group hug that you were sure some of your ribs cracked.

“you’re gonna be great!” your mom cheered.

“we can rent out our driveway to lazy tourists!” your dad said. you pulled back and gave him a strange look, but he didn't even look the least bit sorry. “i’m trying to earn back all the money i spent on your goalie gear, squirt.”

you'd rolled your eyes at the time, thinking it was just an over exaggeration, but when you saw how bad traffic was in elmont, you were grateful for the reserved parking for players.

you pulled into ubs’ reserved parking area, feeling the excitement hit you all at once. 

you were at ubs for the all star red carpet event you'd grown up watching from the rug in front of the tv in your parents’ house. sometime that week, you’d be on the ice instead of watching the islanders from the stands like you had the last few years. you grew up down the street, and later that week, you would play on that ice in front of thousands of hockey fans.

you could feel the excitement singing in your veins, you were bouncing on your toes, tapping your feet in your heels as you got out of the car. you straightened your teal patterned pant suit and black corset top, before pulling your phone out of your pocket. 

you: are you here yet?

you texted jessie eldridge, not sure if she arrived with everyone else. for the first time ever, you were running late. the anxiety (and probably the undiagnosed adhd) meant you spent more time fretting at your parents’ house than you anticipated, hence why you were arriving at the very end of the pwhl segment of the red carpet.

you’d have to apologize to your agent later.

now that you’d arrived, more anxiety started setting in. the cruel, self deprecating words inhabiting your brain told you to go home, that you didn't belong among “real hockey players.”

jess: not yet. pulling up now! traffic is insane!!!

you sighed and tried to touch up your lipstick in the reflection of your car window while telling yourself mentally that you could be brave, you could do hard things. you were the starting goalie on one of the six inaugural teams in the professional women’s hockey league, you were used to fear, or not feeling like enough. there was a reason you didn't check the comments on tiktok or instagram, or the replies on tweets after the games. people were cruel.

despite the shaking in your knees, despite the anxiety threatening to swallow you whole, you remembered the tears in your parents eyes when you got drafted, the hugs they gave you after each game.

you remembered the little girls you'd seen in the crowd with signs and your jersey on. that had to mean something, even if there were sexist pigs out there who didn't.

before you started walking, another car pulled into the parking lot and parked a few spaces away. you paused, recognizing the car, and waited for your teammate to get out.

jess eldridge popped out of her car, smiling wide as soon as she saw you. “long time, no see,” she joked, considering you saw her earlier that morning for practice. her eyes widened as she took in your outfit. “jesus fucking christ,” she said. “tryna get laid tonight?”

you grinned like a child and waited for her to catch up before you both started walking towards the red carpet. “we’re at a work function, jess,” you chided, knowing good and well that had never stopped you before. “how was the drive?”

jess shrugged. “traffic was not fun, you're lucky your parents live around here.”

“did everyone else ride on the bus?”

“they did if they’re from out of town.” jess pulled out her phone and checked the time. “i think we might be the last ones here. which, i’m always late, but you being late is unheard of.”

you shrugged. “i figured i could be late this one time. i’m early to every other event.”

the two of you walked towards the fan area, smiling as the noise levels increased. you started bouncing on your feet once more, grinning from ear to ear.

there were little girls who gasped when they saw you both. you pointed out a little redhead wearing jess’ jersey and the two of you quickly made your way to her.

sharpies were being pushed in your line of sight, it felt like there were so many people yelling at once. the announcer said your name, followed by jessie’s. little girls were asking for your autographs, social media interns were interviewing sarah nurse and emma maltais, there were random cheers at random intervals.

it was overwhelming.

somewhere along the autograph lines, you lost sight of all the other girls, only realizing when you looked up from yet another jersey and noticed you were standing alone.

an assistant called your name and gestured you down the line to take a few photos. you were on your way when a shoulder hit yours and nearly sent you sprawling on the ground had it not been for a firm grip around your bicep.

you glanced to your left and saw a man with a dazzling smile you knew all too well through the screen of your parents’ tv and your social media.

mat barzal.

“sorry,” he grinned. “didn't see you there.”

you weren't sure how, you two were standing eye to eye, it wasn’t like you were as short as emma, you were pretty tall, even without your heels on.

“oh,” you said. “you're mat.”

he nodded and stuck his hand out to shake before saying your name. you must've looked surprised because he laughed when he dropped his hand from yours and gestured to you. “you play for the sirens, right? goalie?”

you smiled and nodded before an attendant was ushering you down the carpet. you fully expected him to wave bye, but he kept up.

“you watch our games?” you asked.

he nodded again. “went back and watched the shut out you had against montreal. it was impressive, especially going against poulin.”

you beamed under his praise, remembering the amount of times you tapped the goalposts for blocking shots you couldn't or the twelve cherry starbursts you ate before the start of the game like you’d done since you were seven.

the game before, you only had eleven and lost by two goals. you weren't taking any chances anymore.

another attendant rushed you to stand in front of the banner to take your photo. mat caught up with you again after his picture was taken. “it’s nice to meet you,” you started when he was close enough to hear you. “my parents love you.” you blinked. “i mean, i grew up with islanders fans for parents.”

mat’s eyebrows rose, a small smirk on his lips. “really?”

you smiled. “grew up right down the street actually.”

he gave a low whistle. “bet that’s convenient.”

“my dad joked that he was gonna rent out the driveway to lazy tourists.”

mat threw his head back and laughed as the two of you continued down the carpet, stopping to sign autographs along the way. 

“your teammates here yet?” he asked.

“i was definitely like the last one to arrive. jessie eldridge showed up around the same time but i don’t see her...” you noted for the first time that you'd lost her somewhere along the way. “whoops,” you said. “are any of your teammates here? is sorokin?”

“big fan?” mat snickered.

but your mind was already moving on. your eyes widened as you grabbed the sleeve of mat’s suit. “oh my god, is patrick roy gonna be here?”

he shook his head, still grinning like an idiot. “he’s taking the bye week to ignore our phone calls.”

you huffed.

the closer you got to the end of the red carpet, the more you realized you were going to have to leave mat, the handsome stranger who wasn't really much of a stranger considering how much you knew about him already. 

he was starting to get tugged in different metaphorical directions by the fans reaching out for an autograph while it was obvious your popularity was nowhere near his.

“i’ll see you later,” you said.

mat’s brows pulled together. “you're leaving?”

you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder. “gotta catch up with the girls before the game tonight.”

“you feel good about it?”

your fingers twitched against your legs with more excited energy as you backed away from him, a smile on your face as you shook your head. “uh uh, nope. i don't talk about the game before the game, goes against my beliefs.”

mat cackled. “i’ll see you around, good luck!”

you spun on your heel and walked off the carpet. you walked until you saw familiar faces. emma and jess were standing at the end, looking at you and smiling as they talked among themselves.

“when i asked if you were planning on getting laid tonight, i didn't think you were going to go after barzal,” jess laughed.

you shoved her shoulder good naturedly. “we just ran into each other.”

emma snickered and shook her head. “he's hotter than all the other guys you've hooked up with, twitchy. why not give it a shot?”

it was true, you and emma went to ohio state together before being drafted to two separate teams. she was your roadie roommate and often saw the guys you'd swiped right on.

she was also the one who gave you what some might consider the offensive nickname of twitch.

“you keep spazzing out and twitching before games,” she noted.

“i’m practicing my eye and hand movements,” you said before popping a red starburst in your mouth.

you rolled your eyes but a smile was still on your face. “i don't hook up with hockey players.”

“why not? they’d be the perfect match, they'd understand your schedule, the intensity of the game. they could make a great boyfriend...” jess replied.

but you shook your head. “hookups are the only relationship i can commit to right now. i’ve got too much else going on. and hooking up with a hockey player just seems like bad news.”

emma and jess shrugged before you followed the two of them to your seats.

winter olympics - milan

the lack of travelling you did for the all star week was made up when you flew to milan for the winter olympics. it was a beautiful city to be in, no doubt about it. though, by the time you got to your room, you weren't interested in doing anything but collapsing face first into your bed. the six hour time difference and the flight immediately after all star weekend was starting to catch up with you.

safe to say, you felt like death heated up.

you shared a room with alex carpenter, your alternate captain. you loved alex like the older sister you never had, she was the picture perfect roommate.

except you were staring at her sleeping body like a weirdo because you were wide awake. how the hell had she fallen asleep so fast? it felt like your body was still in new york. 

you finally accepted that you weren't going to sleep anytime soon, and instead of scrolling on tiktok and waiting for sleep to hit you in the face (and risk waking alex up), you grabbed your phone, your bag, and headed outside towards the dining hall.

it wasn't too long of a trek, though you were wishing you'd put on more than a pullover and leggings when the wind blew too hard. when you finally made it in the dining hall, your cheeks were both warm from the blood rushing to them, and cold from the wind.

you looked around the large room, for what, you weren't sure. maybe it was for people you knew, or the food options, but you had red starbursts in your bag so you weren't too concerned on the food front. still, you wandered around, looking at the food anyway, just to see if anything piqued your interest.

you'd gotten to the dessert section when a mop of dark brown hair caught your attention. at first, you weren't sure if it was him, so you approached him in a way one might back away from a lion in the safari: slowly. it wasn’t until you saw his jawline and profile that you knew for sure

mat barzal had a stack of cannolis on his plate when you moseyed up next to him.

“i feel like four cannolis at two in the morning is a bit excessive.”

to his credit, mat didn't jump when you spoke. “leave me alone, we burn like thousands of calories doing this shit.” he piled another cannoli on his plate before turning on his heel and searching for what you assumed was a table (and hopefully not more food). “what're you doing up?”

“my brain says it’s only 8pm. i didn't wanna wake alex with my doom scrolling,” you said as you followed him to a table.

mat set his plate down and pulled out his chair, gesturing to the one across from him for you to sit. “jet lag is a bitch,” he said. his head tilted when he saw the bag you placed in the chair next to you. “what’s in the bag?” he asked before taking a bite of one of his cannolis. 

your eyes lit up as you smiled. “glad you asked.” you reached in and pulled out a starburst stick before ripping the top of it off with your teeth. you frowned when a pink one fell out. “dammit,” you grumbled, letting the pink starburst rest on the table. “pink is the worst.”

mat eyed you and the starburst for a moment before reaching for it. he unwrapped the paper and popped it into his mouth.

you did a little dance in your seat when the next starburst was red. it took no time for you to unwrap it and pop it into your mouth much like mat did with the pink one.

mat stared as he took a sip of his water. “is there something i’m missing? bringing a whole ass bag for just one thing of starbursts seems a little excessive.”

“you are correct,” you said, a smug smile on your face as you reached into your bag and pulled out a box. “i’m actually glad i ran into you. i was hoping i’d get to use this while i was here.”

mat blinked. “you brought battleship to the olympics?”

you nodded eagerly. “wanna play?”

mat sighed and shook his head, a smile on his face anyway. “you're so weird.”

maybe it should've hurt your feelings, but you'd been called weird all your life, this was no different. you shrugged. “maybe, but you didn't answer the question.

mat stared for a minute before pushing his plate aside. “no cheating.”

by 3am, you'd beaten mat twice and were on your way to your third win. “a7,” you said.

mat rolled his eyes and groaned. “you're definitely cheating. there’s no fucking way you're not.”

you laughed and fell back into your seat. “how would i cheat, mat?”

“i—i don't fucking know!” he sputtered and pointed an accusatory finger. “but i know you’re doing it! no one is ever this good at this stupid fucking game.”

“i played a lot as a kid,” you said like it was an explanation. “sometimes by myself.”

“how the hell did you play with yourself?”

you snickered, the joke was coming out of your mouth before you could stop it. “vibrators exist, you know.”

mat looked at you like you'd grown another head before bursting into laughter. “i fucking hate you,” he managed to squeeze out between wheezes. “you win.”

you giggled a little at his reaction, preening at the attention. “what do i get for winning?

mat slid the plate across the table to you. “pick a cannoli, any cannoli.”

you looked at the cream filled pastry, the way most of the cream had cooled to room temp and lost its volume, looking rather melted and unappealing. you twisted your face into a look of disgust. “i beat your ass three times and all i get is melted cannoli?

mat rolled his eyes, though the small smile on his lips betrayed his fake annoyance. “what do you want?”

you thought about it, thought back to the last few weeks, and what the next two weeks would look like. “you have to peel my oranges for the rest of the olympics.”

“...that's not a euphemism, is it?”

you cracked a smile. “no, i don't hook up with hockey players. my dad would peel my oranges because i hate the way the peel feels under my nails and oranges are my favorite fruit so it poses quite the problem.”

“so whenever i see you with an orange, i’ll peel it for you?”

you nodded.

he nodded and stuck his hand out. “you've got yourself a deal.”

you didn't see mat until two days later when you ran into him at the figure skating pairs event. well, “ran into” might be a bit dramatic. in reality, you were sitting in the stands with alex and emma when an unfamiliar (yet growing more familiar) body plopped down next to you.

before you could even react, a peeled orange in a ziploc bag appeared in your line of sight. “want it?” mat asked.

your eyes lit up when you saw it, your hands immediately reached out for the bag. “oh my god, i’m starving.” you did your best to not snatch the bag from his hands in your hunger, but you shoved three pieces in your mouth almost immediately after opening the bag.

mat cackled. “were you hungry?”

“starving,” you said through a mouthful of fruit.

emma laughed from her spot next to you. “oh my god. did anyone ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”

you shrugged. “i don't know, men are usually too busy getting the best head of their life to complain.”

alex choked while emma threw her head back laughing. mat froze next to you. 

“you’re insane, twitch,” emma managed to say between laughs. “absolutely batshit.”

but you shrugged and kept eating your oranges.

“twitch?” mat said after a moment. “who’s twitch?”

you raised your hand like you were sitting at a desk at school. “that’s me,” you said after swallowing more oranges.

mat blinked. “why?”

emma piped in. “in college, she would look like she was twitching—”

“—i was practicing my hand and eye movements—”

“—in college?” alex interrupted. “she still does it.”

“and hence the name twitch was born,” emma concluded.

you rolled your eyes and looked at mat. “they're exaggerating.”

he only smiled and shrugged. “more creative than our nicknames.”

“well, the bar’s in hell then,” you said.

“barzy! we gotta go!” all four of you looked over and saw bo horvat standing at the end of the aisle, gesturing for mat to get up.

mat, to his credit, looked a little sorry to leave, even as he stood up. “i’ll see you around, twitch,” he said.

your friends, to their credit, waited until he was out of sight to start elbowing and shoving you around. 

“he brought you a peeled orange? how did he even know to do that?” emma pestered.

once again, you rolled your eyes. “it was my reward when i beat him in battleship.”

“battleship? when did you have time to play that?” alex asked.

“the other night when i couldn't fall asleep.”

“are you gonna hook up with him?” emma bounced in her seat, her blonde hair falling around her face.

“i don't hook up with hockey players,” you said. “too close to home. besides, there are plenty of men to sleep with while i’m here.”

you found yourself making out with (and fucking) a french snowboarder before the night was over. he wasn't bad, he used a lot of tongue, that was certain. which begged the question: was it a french kiss in france? or was it just a kiss? you'd never know, you forgot to ask him.

alex was getting in bed by the time you got back to the room, your hair mussed and lips swollen. “eventful night?” she asked.

you shrugged and changed into your pajamas. “you could say that.”

“how was he?”

“sloppy kisser. how’s steph?” you asked.

a smile you could only describe as soft graced alex’s lips. “great, we spoke an hour ago. she told me to tell you good luck.”

“she’s so sweet.” you groaned as you fell back into your bed. “none of the guys i’ve been with have ever been that nice.”

the room was silent, yet so loud. “twitchy,” alex started. “they're hook ups, not boyfriends.”

you sat up in bed and looked at alex. “what do you mean?”

“hook ups have no emotional investment, twitch. why would they care if you did well or not?” she asked. and the truth stung a little, you weren't going to lie about that. after a beat of silence, she continued. “could it be possible the hook ups aren't enough anymore?”

you shrugged and fell against the bed. “i don’t know,” you groaned. “it’s not even like the sex is good anymore. i mean, it’s not bad, but it’s like i have to give a beginner’s lesson every time.”

“that is a benefit of a committed relationship. you're not starting over every time you have sex.”

you turned your head and saw how alex was scrolling on your phone. you weren't sure how she could do it when you were having a slight crisis. “but i don't know that i have time for a boyfriend and hockey. how the hell am i supposed to manage that?”

alex turned to look at you. “if he wants to be with you, and if you want to be with him, you both will find a way to make it work. but you have to get over this fear of commitment for it to work.”

you turned back to look at the ceiling and said nothing.

alex fell asleep shortly after your conversation ended like she didn't just wreck your worldview. and like a few nights ago, you got up and went to the dining hall, except this time without battleship or your bag of starbursts.

you should've been surprised when you saw mat again, but instead of focusing on why he was stuffing his face with cannoli, you just plopped into the chair across from him.

“do you ever wanna settle down?”

mat coughed and choked on a cannoli. “w—what? with you?”

you rolled your eyes. “no, just in general. aren't most of your teammates married? do you ever want that?”

he swallowed and nodded, taking a sip of water before speaking. “i mean yeah, eventually. why?”

you fell back into your chair and sighed. “i feel like my friends expect me to grow up at some point. i mean i’m almost thirty, shouldn't i be committed to someone by now?”

he shrugged. “i don't know, should you?”

“don't your teammates ask you about that?”

“i don't know, maybe. but i just ignore them.”

“you do?”

“...no. okay? no. it gets to me too. but it is what it is. i can’t manage hockey and—”

“—dating, right?”

he nodded.

“what if we made a deal?”

“a deal?” he leaned in. “i’m listening.”

“you and i, we both want to stop being single, right?”

“right.”

“but we’re athletes, we’re competitive. so what if we made this a competition?”

mat took a bite of cannoli. “so what’re you thinking?”

“first person to fall in love wins. we try dating around and finding our people but the first person to fall in love wins.”

mat’s eyes widened. “just like that? we’re going from an inability to commit to falling in love?”

you nodded eagerly. “it’s like exposure therapy! grabbing the bulls by the horns.” you inhaled. 

“what does the winner get?”

you hummed. “a favor that can be cashed in at any time.” he nodded, looking lost in thought. “so what do you think? are you in?” you stuck your hand out, ready for him to shake it, but anticipating that he won't.

a moment passed. mat ran a hand down his face. “god i must be desperate,” he mumbled before he shook your hand. “i’m in.”

guy one: paul

you were soaked in sweat and your lungs were burning. with the water bottle attached to the back of the goal, you sprayed yourself in the face, the cold liquid doing wonders to cool you off.

you skated off the ice and towards the locker rooms. you shucked your jersey and chest protector off almost immediately.

“you in a rush, twitchy?” jess said from her locker across the room. “hot date?”

“maybe,” you replied.

truth be told, yes. you were meeting this guy named paul that you met on hinge. he seemed nice enough. granted, the bar was in hell. “nice enough” was the result of him not sending you a dick pick within the first three texts. he had yet to send an inappropriate text or photo, which gave you a little bit of hope.

so when you looked at your phone, you expected to see a message from him. but it was mat’s name on your home screen.

mat barzal: what time is your date tonight?

after that night in the dining hall, you and mat exchanged numbers. it was his idea, saying it’d be better if the two of you didn't leave meeting up to chance anymore. you'd hardly call meeting at two work events “chance” but you weren't going to protest.

you: 7, why?

you continued undressing until you were just in a pair of spandex shorts and a sirens shirt.

mat barzal: just curious. 

mat barzal: you ready to hang it up?

you: hang what up?

mat barzal: your hoe stage. may she rest in peace.

a snort came out before you could even think to stop it.

you: i’ll hang mine up if you do the same.

mat barzal: i thought that was the deal.

you liked the message and locked your phone.

jess slid into the spot next to you and tried to peer over your shoulder. “what’re your plans for tonight?”

you shrugged and began untying your skates. “hinge date.”

her eyes widened as she smirked. “ooo with who? the mystery man you were texting?”

you rolled your eyes. “no, that was just barzal.”

it was almost like someone had used a clorox wipe on jess’ face, because any trace of her smugness was gone in a flash. “barzal? barzal who? barzal as in mat barzal of the new york islanders?”

you blinked. “yep.”

her jaw dropped. “when did you get his number? is he the one you're going on a date with?”

as if the word “date” was a beacon in the night, every single one of your teammates’ heads turned your way. “you have a date tonight, twitchy?” ella shelton asked. “who is it?”

“mat barzal!” jess replied quicker than you could.

it was silent for just a moment before a million questions were fired your way. since when were you dating him? how did you two meet? when was your first date? is this your first date? why didn't you tell us?

“we’re not dating,” you said over the noise.

“then why is he texting you?” ella asked.

“because we made a bet.” the girls leaned in. “whoever falls in love first, and by proxy gets someone else to fall in love with them, wins.”

alex carpenter blinked. “why?”

you blinked back. “why what?”

“why make it a competition? i thought you weren't interested in dating?”

you glanced around the room, most of your teammates were in committed long term relationships with someone and those who weren't had just gotten out of one. then there was you, and maybe one or two other stragglers left to go bar hopping with the potential of taking someone home.

sleeping around was fun, but maybe you were ready for someone to understand you, to not laugh when you say you love sleeping in socks. you were tired of falling asleep with cold feet anytime you wanted the other side of your bed warm.

but how could you say that? a post practice gossip session was not really the place you wanted to lay your heart bare.

“maybe i just wanted some consistency.” you gestured to alex. “i mean, i see steph at nearly every game. it would be nice to have someone show up for me other than my parents.”

the mass interrogation dispersed not long after that confession, with you heading off to the showers before heading home to your one bedroom jersey apartment. to pass time, you took a nap while watching gilmore girls.

you met paul at the chipotle not too far from prudential. he suggested it and though you'd had chipotle plenty of times that week, you agreed because it was easy enough.

you filled your bowl with your usual and watched as he only got chicken and white rice. part of you tried to brush it off by thinking maybe he had food allergies, but why would he suggest a place where he couldn't eat most of anything on the menu?

he picked a table in the middle of the restaurant, which was also odd, but you went along with it. he was already seated and mixing his dry ass bowl together by the time you made it to the table with your drink.

it was weird, you'd admit. it wasn't like you expected him to pull your chair out for you, but you did at least expect him to wait until you sat down to start eating. maybe his family was different than yours.

“so,” you started as you mixed your bowl with your fork. “what do you like to do for fun?”

god you were horrible at this.

he shrugged and stuffed his mouth full of rice and chicken. “i’ve been reading rich dad poor dad.”

oh god. he was even worse at this than you were.

okay, okay, maybe this date could still be saved. “so you like to read?”

paul shrugged again. “sometimes.”

you blinked and took a bite of your burrito bowl while you waited for him to ask you a question.

he kept munching on his chicken and rice.

“so,” you started. “do you have any hobbies?”

“running.”

more silence.

“what do you do for work?”

“i’m an accountant.”

you stabbed your bowl with a little fierceness, but tried to taper your frustration. “i play in the pwhl.”

you waited and watched, hoping if he didn't understand what you did, that he'd at least try to act interested. but he just kept eating.

“have you ever run a marathon?” you asked.

“no.”

the date continued on like that, your questions answered followed by painful silences that served to exacerbate how one sided the whole experience was. at the end, he stood up to throw his things away without saying a word. you followed, because you were ready to say goodbye and end the disaster you were ashamed to call a date (god you can’t believe you shaved for this).

the two of you stood on the sidewalk, letting people move around you.

“we should do this again. this was fun,” he said.

and without even thinking about it, you said, “was it?”

paul blinked. “why wouldn't it have been?”

you laughed until you saw he didn't join in. “oh,” you stopped, “you're serious.”

paul just stared like nothing had happened. before meeting him, you weren't sure what a blank stare looked like, but after seeing it on his face, you could safely say the lights were on but no one was home.

“paul, you didn't ask me a single question, the only reason we didn't sit in silence was because of me.”

he blinked like he was getting paid to do it. honestly, at that point in the night, it seemed to be the only thing he did.

“you have nothing to say?” when he didn't respond fast enough, you rolled your eyes. “bye paul.”

before you could stop yourself, you started the drive to elmont to see your parents. you could go back to your apartment tomorrow, but you really needed to touch grass after that date, even if it was the small yard behind your parents’ house.

you were at a stoplight five minutes from your parents’ home when your phone rang.

mat barzal.

you squinted at your phone but picked up anyway. “hello?”

“hey! are you currently at a stoplight?”

that was an odd coincidence. “yeah?”

“about two blocks from ubs?”

“...yeah.”

“okay cool, i see you.”

you look around alarmed until you saw a hand waving in the car next to you. you couldn't help the smile on your lips when you saw him sitting in the car to your left. his phone pressed to his ear with one hand, his other waving at you. “what the fuck are you doing out and about?”

mat jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, like he was pointing at ubs’ general direction. “just had a game. you? i didn't think you lived on the island.”

“visiting my parents. i need to touch grass, my date was rough.”

mat grimaced.

the light turned green and you half expected him to hang up, but he kept the call going. “what happened?”

“i would’ve rather watched paint dry than relive that date again. he was the most boring person i think i’ve ever met. i asked him questions and he'd give me one or two word answers and then wouldn't ask me anything. and then at the end of the night, he said we should go out again because it was ‘fun.’ and then he had the audacity to be surprised when i told him it wasn't!”

“how boring could he possibly have been?”

you groaned. “his order at chipotle was white rice and chicken.”

“and what else?” mat asked.

“that’s it. that’s the only thing he ordered.”

“oh my god.”

“and he reads fucking rich dad poor dad for fun i guess. and he likes to go running. he’s also an accountant, but don't ask me for any more information because i think he’s allergic to details.”

mat cackled through the phone. “what was his name again?”

“paul.”

“hate to break it to ya, twitch. with a name like paul, you really should've expected it.”

before you could stop it, a laugh bubbled out of your chest. “that’s super judgmental.”

“and maybe if you were as judgy as me, you wouldn't have gone on a date with the human equivalent of wet cement.”

you turned your blinker on and got into the turning lane for your parents’ neighborhood. “not all of us can be as discerning as you.”

“hey, if you wanna run your hinge matches by me next time, i’ll gladly provide my expertise, free of charge.”

“i’ll keep that in mind for next time, barzy. thanks for listening to me bitch.”

the smile on his face was audible when he spoke to you. “anytime, twitch, anytime.”

guy two: nathan

the second date only happened after an extensive vetting process, aka sending screenshots and screen recordings of hinge profiles to mat and jess (in separate threads of course. there was no way you were starting a group chat with the both of them).

jess had been more forgiving than mat had, which surprised you. she pointed out her fair share of red flags, but it was nothing compared to mat’s.

mat met you outside sweetgreen where you went inside to collect your mobile orders. to his credit, he did have a beanie (for once, it wasn’t islanders related) and sunglasses on in a sorry attempt to not be spotted. it was clear the attempt didn’t work because there were two kids asking for autographs when you came out.

you stayed back far enough where it wasn’t obvious you were with him and waited for the kids to leave with their parents.

“i swear i’m not trying to attract attention,” he mumbled to you when the coast was clear. 

you handed him his order and rolled your eyes. “you're one of the most recognizable faces on long island, and you thought a beanie and sunglasses would save you?”

he shrugged before popping a pickle chip in his mouth and started walking down the sidewalk. “do you have any updated matches you wanna show me?”

without even responding, you handed mat your unlocked phone.

“oh immediately no,” mat said, looking at some guy named jonathan.

“what's wrong with him?” you asked, peering over his shoulder.

mat flashed your phone at you for a brief second. “he has a neck beard!

you grabbed your phone and looked at the photos again. huh, you hadn't noticed that before. “he can shave it!”

it was mat’s turn to roll his eyes. “he posted that picture because he thought he looked good in it, he's not shaving that fuckass beard.” he continued swiping through your matches and scoffed at most of them.

“this one has too many group photos, and i guarantee you, he's not the guy you think he is.”

two minutes later, mat scoffed and said fishing photos were a bad sign.

“it’s just fishing.”

but mat shook his head and offered no explanation. “didn't your friends tell you these things?”

“jess and ella were looking at the answers and content more than photos, i think they’re concerned about my safety.”

“and neckbeard passed the test?” mat’s eyebrows practically raised into his hairline. “twitch you are way too hot to be dating neckbeards and men whose only personality is fishing.”

“how is that fair to them? my only personality is hockey!”

you stumbled over the uneven sidewalk before mat’s hand steadied you by your elbow.

“try to stay on your feet, twitch.”

you stopped walking long enough to give him a look of disbelief. “i know you're not talking to me about staying on my feet. you fall down like four times each period.”

part of you expected mat to get defensive, but he smirked instead. “aw, you watch my games?”

you glowered and kept walking.

that was two days ago. you were currently getting ready to go on a date with nathan who had (somehow) managed to be approved by your board of trustees as mat called them. ella, jess, and mat couldn't seem to agree on anyone collectively until you matched with nathan.

he graduated from penn state law before he moved back to new york. he was the oldest of three boys and had played football since he was a kid. he doesn't play anymore now, you figured, but still got together with his friends at least once a month to play in prospect park.

it seemed like a good fit. ella pointed out how having friends was a good sign. jess said that he seemed to be passionate about his line of work and lighthearted. and judging by the dms you’d been sending each other, nathan was also way more charismatic and entertaining than paul, which was a win.

you met him at a coffee shop in manhattan, he didn't pull your chair out but he did stand when you walked over with your coffee in hand. which was fine, you weren’t old fashioned or anything, it was more than paul had done.

“hey,” he greeted with a thousand watt smile.

dear god, he was handsome.

it’s okay, you told yourself, you had marie philip-poulin shoot pucks at you a million times before, and she was way scarier than any man.

“hi,” you smiled back.

the two of you took your seats.

“hi,” he said again. “you look great!”

“you do too, handsome, i mean.”

he nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “what did you order?”

“mocha frappe,” you smiled. his face pinched in a small frown before it was covered up with yet another smile. “what about you?”

“americano,” he said. “i like it bitter.” he took a sip. “so i saw you're a fan of hockey, what’s your team?”

“oh, i’m actually a professional hockey player,” you gently corrected. “so, my go to team is the new york sirens, but if we’re talking nhl, my parents are huge islanders fans so i’ve been pulling for them as long as i can remember.”

his eyes lit up. “oh cool! i didn’t know you were a professional hockey player, i wasn’t aware they had a league for women now.”

“yeah! the inaugural season was last year, but we didn’t have official team names until this year.” you took a sip of your frappe. “what about you? do you follow the nfl closely? i know your profile said you played football.”

he smiled sheepishly. “unfortunately, i’ve been a jets fan since birth.”

you grimaced. “yikes...”

“take pity on me, i’ve been through a lot, my trust is damaged.”

you snorted before you could even think to stop yourself. your eyes widened as you made eye contact with nathan whose shocked face did nothing for your confidence. an apology was about to come out of your mouth before he changed the topic and pretended like nothing happened.

the rest of the date went so well, you exchanged numbers at the end of the afternoon. it was a little odd when you saw his phone, it looked older than you thought it should’ve, but maybe he was an old soul and didn't want the newest iphone just because he could have it.

on the second date, a week later, you met up on your side of the hudson. you were fresh from practice while nathan took his lunch break to see you.

his phone kept buzzing on the table, but he brushed them off as work emails, which made sense. he was a lawyer, he probably had hundreds of emails to answer on a regular basis. when his phone started ringing, he held it kind of awkwardly in a way where you couldn't see who was calling. he held a finger up at you and excused himself from the table. 

you watched as he paced up and down the sidewalk, confused as to why he was so agitated. sure, you hadn’t known nathan long, but he didn't seem to be the type to frustrate easily.

your own phone vibrated on the table, and since nathan was on a phone call, you checked it.

mat barzal: when are you free next? i have raya matches and i need a girl’s perspective.

you: don't you have teammates?

mat barzal: they’re all practically married.

you: i’m failing to see the disqualifications

mat barzal: they’re all dudes, they don't know what they're talking about

you: and i do?

mat barzal: you’re a girl, aren't you?

you: i’m not even going to dignify that with a response

mat barzal: photo attachment

when you opened the text, it was a picture of what you assumed was child mat in hockey gear. 

mat barzal: would you say no to this face?

you: i’m on a date, but when it ends, i’ll call you.

mat barzal: :)

nathan came back in, looking more flushed than usual. “everything okay?” you asked.

“huh? oh, yeah, just a work thing.”

you blinked. “seemed a bit intense for work...”

he shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. “it’s just a lawyer thing.”

the lunch continued for another twenty minutes before he rushed off saying he had to get back to work. he pressed a sweet but brief kiss to your lips and promised to call you.

there was no reason to not believe him.

as you walked out of the restaurant, you pulled up mat’s contact and called him. he picked up on the second ring.

“hey! are you free?” he asked.

“just left my date.”

“oh...sorry, did i interrupt?”

you smiled despite yourself at the slight apologetic tone in his voice. “no barzy, you did not, he had to go back to work.”

“oh...so you’re free? right now?”

“yep, just headed back to my apartment. do you wanna come over?”

“yeah, just send me your address.”

an hour later, you were buzzing mat up to your apartment. he immediately started scrutinizing the space. it wasn't much, probably nothing like he was used to considering the giant salary gap between the two of you, but it was lived in. your grandmother’s quilt lay across the back of the couch you saved for. you'd thrifted the floor lamp and the rug (and the money you saved on it went to getting it professionally cleaned). on the coffee table was a candy jar full of only red starburst, the others were in a gallon sized ziploc bag in your pantry.

“cozy,” mat said.

“i know it’s not much—”

“do you like living here?” he asked.

you nodded.

“that’s what matters. that it feels like home.” he pulled his phone out and pulled up raya. “can you help me with this? the guys keep mentioning wife material and telling me i’m not gonna meet a wife on a dating app.”

you rolled your eyes. “your teammates have also been dating their wives since high school so i wouldn't take everything they say so seriously.” your thumbs began scrolling through his matches, taking mental notes of the girls flying across the screen. “not this girl,” you said, showing him a picture of a red head.

mat’s eyes widened. ”what? why? she volunteers at the animal shelter!”

“taking a picture at the animal shelter and volunteering at the animal shelter are two different things. besides, it’s the fact that all her group photos are with guys, not a single girl spotted.”

“so? she says she's one of the guys.”

“and in girl words, that means she’s dealing with a lot of internalized misogyny and might be a pick me. she’d probably see any woman in your life as a threat.”

“huh.”

“and this girl,” you showed him another one of your matches. “she seems nice, but if you look in the background of one of her photos, there’s a rangers jersey on the floor.”

mat physically recoiled like you'd just slapped him.

“but the other girls seem fine, especially this grace girl, she seems cool.”

“thanks, twitch,” mat said reaching for his phone.

you picked yours off the coffee table and plopped down on the couch. “wanna watch a movie?”

mat nodded and watched as you put on the mighty ducks. sure it was a bit on the nose and the two of you had already been submerged enough in hockey culture, but you were ready to turn your brain off and just be a kid again. besides, the two of you would probably end up scrolling on your phones most of the time anyway.

you opened instagram and saw a dm notification from an account you didn't follow. hesitantly, you clicked on the message and promptly felt you stomach drop to your ankles.

hey girl, the message started. the guy you’ve been seeing, nathan, is my fiancé, we’ve been dating since high school. i would really appreciate if you ended things with him.

“oh my god,” you mumbled.

“what? have you never seen this movie before? it always starts like this,” mat laughed. his laugh stopped short when you showed him the message. “shit.”

“yeah,” you said. “shit.”

mat’s girl one: lauren

the final buzzer sounded, signifying the end of the game, a 4-2 win over toronto at prudential. alex skated over to you first, wrapping you in a hug and patting your helmet. “good job, twitchy,” she smiled. your other teammates followed suit.

jess was last, embracing you as tightly as she could with both of your pads in the way. she skated alongside you back to the locker room. while you loved being one of the three stars of the game, you were glad you weren't chosen that night because nothing sounded better than showering and going home.

after the game debrief in the locker room, you rushed to the showers to scrub the layers of sweat off your body. only when you felt human again, did you get dressed into your sirens sweatsuit. sure, maybe you should've put your cute outfit on again, but you could already feel how exhausted your body was and couldn't imagine putting on an underwire bra and real pants after the game you just had.

on your way to your car, you checked your phone for the first time since getting to the arena. your mom and dad were the first texts you saw, both apologizing for not being able to make the game tonight and inviting you over to dinner the next night.

the most recent text was from emma maltais who told you to let her score next time just because you used to be on the same team in college. after all, weren’t you both forever buckeyes?

but it was the fourteen texts from mat that caught your eye. they all ranged in length with most of them being short exclamations and questions. the last text just read:

mat barzal: can you call me asap? i think i’m losing my mind.

as soon as you got in your car, you called him.

he picked up on the second ring.

“do i need to go to college?” he asked immediately.

what. the fuck.

“huh?” was the only intelligent response you could give him.

“do i need to go to college?”

“mat, what the fuck are you talking about?”

a loud sigh echoed through your phone as you pulled out of the parking lot. “you know how i went on a date tonight?”

“yeah, with that lauren girl, right?”

“mhm, have you read any of the texts i sent you? i feel like that would make more sense.”

“i’m driving right now, i just saw your text asking me to call you, i hadn't had time to go through the rest of them. why? what happened? was she secretly a serial killer?”

“what? no! she said hockey is barbaric and started quoting cte statistics to me.”

“what the fuck? who does she think she is?”

“she’s about to graduate from med school.”

“and she was on raya?”

“...she has a following on tiktok doing ‘days in the life of a med student.’”

if you weren't driving, you would've face palmed. “and she was telling you about how unsustainable a hockey career is?”

“she said i’d retire at thirty-five and probably have a mid life crisis that would be exacerbated by head injuries and how rough i’ve been on my body so it’s probably best that i look at going to college to find a real job.”

“oh my god—”

“so should i go to college?”

you sighed as you pulled up to a stoplight. “mat, how long have you known this girl?”

“...um, a week?”

“you're gonna let a stranger convince you to spend money on a degree you probably won't use? you get chirped a thousand times a night and yet you're not contemplating quitting the game just because someone you've played against for years says you suck.”

he paused, the only sound on the other side of the phone was his breathing. “okay okay, you're right. god i don't know why i freaked like that.”

“i don't either, you don't know this girl, you don't owe her anything.”

“what’re you doing tomorrow?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject. “do you wanna come to my game? i’ll get you a ticket.”

“i’m getting dinner with my parents tomorrow—”

“your parents can come! i’ll get the tickets for all three of you, if you think they’d be interested.”

if they’d be interested? what a joke! your mom and dad had been isles fans as long as you'd remembered. when you were growing up, your dad said you should play for the isles if they weren't going to make a women’s league.

“first woman to play on an nhl team would be quite the honor, don't you think squirt?”

“i’m sure they would love to be there, mat. thank you.”

you could hear his grin through the phone and imagined seeing his eyes squint from his big smile.

“i’ll send you the tickets.”

you woke up the next morning with a text from mat with the tickets enclosed; you shot back a quick thank you, and that you'd see him later.

when you called your parents the night before and gave them the news, they were ecstatic, asking a million questions about how you knew mat barzal, why he was giving you tickets, why you hadn't told them you knew him earlier. you'd told them you'd drive to their house after morning skate and you could walk to ubs together.

more than anything, you were excited to see sidney crosby playing up close. mat had gotten decent tickets after checking to see how close to the ice you'd want to be. he even told you to meet him at ubs before heading to your parents so you could get the family passes to come to the locker rooms after the game. you weren't sure why he was being so nice, but you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

you waited in the parking lot of ubs, leaning against the driver side door when mat sped into the lot and parked, rather chaotically, two spaces away.

he hopped out in his game day suit with mostly dry hair and three passes in hand.

“hey,” he smiled. and if nathan’s grin was a thousand watts, mat’s could power the entire island alone. “here are the passes.”

you took them from his hand with a matching grin. “thanks, mat.”

he shrugged like it was no big deal. “no problem. you got the tickets, right?”

you nodded. “they’re in my phone.

“great! i’ll see you later then?”

“try not to fall down this time, barzal.”

“no promises,” he said. “is that what you're wearing to the game?”

you glanced down at the black sweatshirt, jeans, and black and white dunks. “is this not fashion forward enough for you?”

“i don’t know, black’s not really an isles color...” he teased. “if you need any gear, i’m sure i can find a jersey—”

“i’m sure my dad has a t-shirt i can wear if it would really mean that much to you.”

mat slapped a hand over his heart. “would you do me the honor of not wearing the colors of the team i’m playing against? i would really appreciate it.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“only for you, twitch.”

you laughed and shook your head. there was a moment where it looked like mat lit up at the sound of your laughter, but you were probably reading into things.

“i’ll see you after the game?”

he nodded. “see you then.”

you left him in the parking lot and headed down the street to your parents’ house. to no one’s surprise, they were both fully dressed and ready to go to the game that didn’t start for another four hours.

“how do you know mat barzal, sweetheart?” your mom asked as soon as you got settled on the couch. “i don't think you ever really explained it.”

“we met on the all star red carpet fan event. i was late, he was early.”

your dad cocked an eyebrow. “and he gave you tickets to a game after one interaction?”

you shook your head. “we ran into each other at the olympics, started talking more after that.”

“well, i think it’s very nice of him to invite us to his game tonight,” your mom replied, but there was a tone in her voice that had you looking at her suspiciously. 

“you're not dating him are you?” your dad asked flat out.

you choked on your own spit, hacking and coughing until you felt like you could breathe again. “what?! no! we’re just friends.”

“hm.” your parents hummed in unison.

it used to unnerve you how many times your parents did things in sync. walking, talking, humming together, they did it all. but they’d been married for thirty years, maybe it would've been odder if they weren't so in tune with each other.

the three of you watched a rerun of ncis before you started walking to ubs together. the walk was only twenty minutes, but the wind was brutal that evening. by the time you made it in the arena, you couldn't feel your face.

you made your way down to your seats and watched as the kids gathered in the space in front of you. mat wasn't fooling around, they were great seats, right behind the bench, across from the penalty box.

the area had cleared out mostly by the time the game started, leaving you and your parents to freak out about being so close to one of your childhood heroes, patrick roy.

god, you'd have to see if mat would let you meet him.

the game itself was an ugly one, ending in a win for the islanders, but it didn't really feel like one. it didn't take you playing hockey your whole life to know that there were penalty kills that should've never happened, sloppiness on both teams. hell, you probably didn't even have to be anything more than a fan to realize that.

nonetheless, you and your parents made your way down to the locker rooms where you saw a crowd of blonde women and their children. you could feel their eyes on you, but it didn't feel judgmental, just curious if anything.

there was no telling how long you waited before players started coming out of the locker room and greeting their partners. you recognized them all, but had never met any of them but mat, so you kept to yourself and your parents, looking up occasionally to look for mat.

when he finally walked out, you called his name and waved, cheesing like you did for your kindergarten school photos. in real time, you watched his face light up as he walked over to you.

“great game,” your dad greeted.

mat immediately stepped up and stuck out his hand to greet your father. “thanks, sir. it’s nice to meet you, i’m mat.” he looked at your mom. “and you must be twitch’s sister.”

on cue, you could’ve sworn your mother swooned. you rolled your eyes.

what a charmer.

you watched with a smile as your dad and mat talked about the game. your dad, while quite knowledgeable, was sensitive enough to not mention the multitude of mistakes made that night.

“we definitely need to clean up a little during practice this week,” mat started. “i think roy is gonna address it...”

you couldn't hear another word after he said patrick roy’s name, like you suddenly remembered mat was being coached by your childhood hero. you tugged on mat’s arm like a child asking for another cookie.

“mat,” you started. he immediately turned to look at you, his brows pulled together in confusion. “can i meet coach roy? please?”

“oh lord,” your mother said. “you’ve started it now, mat.”

“squirt, he's probably busy, mat’s already been kind enough to invite us—”

mat glanced over his shoulder to the locker room, then looked around the hallway, like he was taking attendance. “you wanna meet him?”

you nodded emphatically, bouncing on your feet.

mat placed a hand on your back. “i’ll introduce you.”

your parents eyed mat’s hand but said nothing. you were too busy hearing the rush of blood in your head to fixate on it. “squirt, we’ll meet you at the house, you too mat! join us for dinner if you’re not too tired!” they turned on their heels and headed out of the tunnel towards the exit.

mat led you towards the locker room, but made you wait outside while he glanced around to make sure there were no naked men inside. when the coast was clear, he gestured you to come inside.

you were practically skipping into the room.

patrick roy stood by one of the lockers talking to anders lee when you entered the locker room. your jaw dropped at being so close to the man whose film you watched over and over again on youtube.

“don’t be weird,” mat mumbled. “he's just a guy.”

“you shut the fuck up,” you mumbled in reply. “he’s patrick fucking roy.”

as soon as anders finished talking to roy, he started towards the exit, nodding at you (albeit a little confused) and clapped mat on the shoulder.

the hand on your back pushed you forward until you were just a few feet away from mat’s coach.

“barzy? what’s up?” patrick roy asked before his eyes landed on you.

mat pushed you forward a little more. “coach, this is twitch, she’s the goalie for the new york sirens.”

“you're literally my hero,” you blurted out. “you made me wanna be a goalie.”

to your relief, he smiled and stuck his hand out. “it’s nice to meet you, how’s the season looking so far for the sirens?”

“not too bad, we could definitely be doing better.”

“sounds familiar.” roy’s eyes cut to mat in a sarcastic way.

“well, you met him, we gotta go, though,” mat said, already leading you away from his coach. “don't wanna keep your parents waiting.”

roy’s eyes twinkled and his lips slid into a smirk, like he knew something you didn't. “it was nice to meet you, twitch.”

“you too!”

the hallway was mostly empty when you and mat exited the locker room. you glanced up at him and smiled. “oh my god thank you! i don't think anything will live up to this moment.”

he shrugged like he didn't just do the biggest favor for you. “don't worry about it.”

“do you think i could meet sorokin next time?”

mat guffawed and lightly shoved you. “don't get ahead of yourself, that would require you to come to another game.”

“deal.”

the two of you walked towards the parking lot mat parked in. “i’ll drive you home,” he said.

“you really don't have to come for dinner, i know you’re probably tired.”

he scoffed. “and miss out on the chance to get a home cooked meal and look at your baby pictures? never.”

“you're not gonna see my baby pictures.”

“i'm sure your mom would pull them out if i asked nicely.”

you shook your head. “nope. nope. nope. invitation rescinded. you can't come over.”

“not your house, you can’t rescind an invitation you didn't give.”

you groaned. “this isn’t fair, it’s not like i can go to your childhood home and look at baby mat pictures.”

he shrugged and opened the passenger door of his car for you. “you can always visit during the summer.”

you thought about it. “summer in vancouver doesn't sound bad...”

he smiled and shut the door behind you before walking around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. “just let me know, i’m sure my mom would be happy to have you. she’s always happy to host my friends.” he pulled his phone out. “can you put your parents’s address in?”

you typed in their address and handed the phone back to him while you picked at the dirt under your nails. mat pulled out onto the turnpike and down a few side streets until you were pulling up to the house.

“i’m sorry your date didn't work out.”

mat turned towards you. “huh?”

“your date,” you explained. “with lauren.”

“oh,” he said. “it’s fine. tonight made up for it.”

it took your mom no time at all to sell you down the river (read: pull out the photo albums). as soon as dinner was over, mat asked, and your mom immediately went and grabbed the albums without hesitating.

mat was all too giddy to see your photos, he was nearly bouncing in his seat when your mom came down the stairs, armed with blackmail material. 

“this was when she was six months old,” your mom started, pointing at different photos. when mat cackled and smirked at you, you knew he'd found the bathtub pictures.

a few pages later and mat’s eyes went wide as saucers as he looked in your direction. “why’re you dressed as an amish woman?” he cackled.

your dad smiled. “she went through an amish hyperfixation after we went to pennsylvania and saw an amish family riding in a horse and buggy.”

mat pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos, snickering to himself all the while. “this is so cute,” he said, pointing at a photo he wouldn't let you see.

your dad continued. “she even asked us to have candlelight dinner for her birthday because the amish don’t have electricity.”

mat couldn't stop laughing.

you shrugged, not even the slightest bit embarrassed. everyone had their weird fixations, yours happened to be the amish. “i tried wearing the dress with my goalie gear and cried when i couldn't,” you said.

mat continued to scrutinize the photos, flipping pages as he smiled. “you were so cute.”

for some odd reason, heat flooded your cheeks. but you brushed it off as a side effect of the glass of wine you had with dinner.

it was nearing 1am when mat finally said goodbye. you walked him out, not noticing the smug look on your parents’ faces.

“thank you for letting me crash your dinner tonight,” mat said, leaning against his car. “it was nice. your parents are great.”

you shook your head and smiled. “thanks for the tickets and the passes. the game was really fun, and i know mom and dad appreciated it.”

a cold wind blew that made a shiver run down your spine. mat took a step closer, then a step back, like he thought better of it.

“when’s your next date?” mat asked.

“not sure,” you said, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “haven't found anyone yet. you?”

he shook his head. “trying to focus on getting to the playoffs, can’t afford any distractions.”

you nodded emphatically. though his playoff run started before yours did, the urgency was still the same.

“let me know if you wanna come to another game,” he said.

before you could stop yourself, you were already shaking your head. “mat you don't have to—”

he held up a hand to quiet you. “you can make it up to me by giving me tickets to see you play.”

you smiled and couldn't stop. even as he got in his car and drove out of sight, you wore that smile inside, missing the knowing looks from your parents.

“he’s nice,” your mom said, a strange tone in her voice that you paid no mind to.

“he’s pretty great.”

mat’s girl two: grace

when mat texted you that he had gone on a date with a girl named grace and was planning another one with the same girl, a strange sinking sensation happened in your stomach. you weren't overly familiar with the feeling. you just assumed it was because you hadn't eaten much.

when he facetimed you a few minutes later, you were shoving a handful of spinach and cheese in your mouth.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he asked. his cackle echoed through your kitchen

“it’s dino time,” you said through a mouthful of spinach.

mat blinked. “‘dino time?’ as in dinosaur?”

“what else would it be for?” you scoffed. “c'mon mat, i know you grew up in canada, but you should've learned this in kindergarten.”

“okay sure, but why?”

“why what?”

“why are you eating a handful of lettuce?”

“...it’s spinach.”

mat dragged a hand down his face and sighed. “okay so it’s spinach. why are you eating a handful of spinach?”

“i saw a girl on tiktok doing it.”

“huh. and you do whatever people on tiktok do?”

you rolled your eyes. “oh get off your high horse, mat. i’m only doing it to get more veggies in. it’s not like i’m snorting cocaine because i saw the wolf of wall street.” only after you shoved more spinach in your mouth, did you ask another question. “why did you call anyway?”

“i was wondering if you'd be able to get two tickets to your game tomorrow.”

“who’s going?” you asked with your mouth still full of leafy greens. “you and bo? duclair? lee?”

mat rubbed the back of his neck. “i was actually planning on taking grace, if that’s okay.”

“oh,” you said, swallowing your spinach. there was that strange sensation in your stomach again. it was odd though, because you were eating, so the feeling should’ve been gone by now, right?

right?

“yeah,” you nodded. “yeah i can get some. i can also see if i can get passes so you can come down to the locker rooms after the game.”

he smiled brightly. “you’re the best, twitch. i’ll talk to you later?”

“mhm.”

he ended the call shortly thereafter, leaving you with your bag of spinach and a quiet room.

he planned on taking grace to your game.

suddenly the greens didn't taste as good anymore. but you had no idea why.

“you’re jealous,” jess deadpanned in the locker room a few days later.

you scoffed. “i’m not jealous. i’ve just been feeling weird.”

“and that all happened to coincide with when mat got a girlfriend?”

“one date hardly makes her his girlfriend.”

jessie eyed you, but you kept taping your stick as if you didn't see her in your periphery. 

there was no way she was right. you still texted the tickets to mat. but instead of meeting him outside like he did for his game, you sent one of the attendants out to give him the passes. your reasoning was simple: you weren't feeling well for some reason, and the idea of seeing grace in his passenger seat only made your stomach twist more.

“listen, all i’m saying is you might have a little crush. it doesn’t have to be devastating.”

devastating? devastating? 

devastating was losing 4 to 5 to toronto. devastating was smiling through the irritation and disappointment when emma maltais skated over after celebrating with her team.

devastating was not looking over at mat and who you assumed was grace standing at the glass, close enough that you wanted to vomit.

you were only halfway listening to your coach’s lecture after the game, knowing damn well it would lead to bag skating tomorrow. the idea of even touching the ice made you want to slam your head against the wall until you forgot about the game you just played. 

when you showered, you originally just stood there, letting the water drown you briefly before you actually washed your hair and body. there was no shot you were drying your hair, you were willing to risk getting a cold if it meant leaving that godforsaken arena as soon as possible. so you slapped a sirens beanie on top of your wet hair and walked out of the locker room.

only to be met with mat and grace standing outside.

fuck.

you'd forgotten about the family passes after three periods of shitty goaltending. the last thing you wanted to do was see mat after your performance that night. the only thing that could top it was meeting grace.

of course she was lovely, smiling at you and offering her hand when mat introduced her. you weren't an asshole, so you shook her hand and did your best to smile even though you wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep off the loss.

however, you did your best to look as interested in the conversation, you pretended to be genuine when grace said you did a great job, that she had fun at the game. all her words should've lifted your spirits, but you didn't know her from a can of paint and you weren't up for conversation. maybe after the next game (that you'd hopefully win) you'd be more up for talking.

“hey,” mat nudged his foot with yours. “it’s not your fault.”

you rolled your eyes, even though they started stinging. “i should've blocked that last goal.”

“and your team should've scored or kept the puck away from you,” he said matter of factly. “the puck has to get through three forwards and two defensemen before it gets to you.”

“but if i—”

mat shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing the bones there. “you're gonna keep yourself up all night overthinking this.” he leaned his head down to look you in the eyes. “it’s not your fault, you've gotta let it go.”

you scoffed. “i can’t just ‘let it go—’”

“you can, and you will if you wanna prevent yourself from making the same mistakes.”

you nodded. “thanks mat,” you mumbled, standing there in the moment until you remembered grace was right there. “it was nice to meet you, grace,” you said, doing your best to smile at her without it looking like a grimace. “maybe next time, we’ll win and i’ll be in a better mood.”

she smiled so bright that it nearly blinded you. “no worries, i look forward to your next game.”

“i’ll see you later, mat,” you said. with your goalie bag on your shoulder, your tired legs started to carry you down the hall towards the parking lot, but a hand reached out and slipped the bag off your shoulder.

“i’ll walk you to your car.”

“but grace—”

“she can come with, right, grace? we’ll drop twitch off and then i’ll drive you home?”

you and mat glanced at her, she seemed frozen in her spot, but she slipped a smile on her face with minimal faltering. “that’s fine,” she said.

mat carried your bag all the way to your car and tossed it in the trunk without breaking a sweat. when he closed the trunk door, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “text me when you get home,” he said.

“you're the one with the hour long drive, mat. you should text me when you get home.”

he laughed and tugged on the ends of your hair. “will do. let me know what your schedule looks like this week!”

you nodded as he walked away and watched as he took grace’s hand. your stomach lurched again, but you wrote it off as a side effect of losing that night.

but the sight of mat and grace reminded you of the bet you'd made at the olympics.

you still had some falling in love to do.

guy three: peter

when you were in high school, you watched a movie called serendipity and fell in love with love. the idea that the right person could be in front of you the whole time made your sixteen year old heart beat like wild.

so when you ran into your ex, peter, at a coffee shop in manhattan, you knew it was your moment.

he was the one.

he had to be.

god and to think you two broke up in college and somehow found your ways back to each other? it had to be a sign.

“it’s not a sign, it’s a coincidence,” emma said over facetime.

you rolled your eyes. “how else would you explain him being in manhattan now? i met him when we were at osu.”

“just because you exchanged numbers again doesn't mean you should date him.”

“we ran into him in the most densely populated city in america, emma. i don't think that’s by chance.” you inhaled. “besides, i think he’s changed. i know i have. maybe it was the right person at the wrong time.”

emma blinked like she didn't believe you. “what does mat think?” she asked.

that was an odd question.

“what do you mean? why would he care?”

she shrugged. “i just thought you two were talking to each other about your dates. thought he might have an opinion on the matter.”

“eh, haven’t spoken to him much.” and truthfully you hadn't. between practicing, games, and dates with peter, you two hadn’t spoken in about a week and a half. which, for anyone else, wasn't that deep, but for you and mat, it was a little strange.

“maybe you should fix that,” emma said.

almost like he knew you were talking about him, mat texted.

mat barzal: would you be up for a double date? you, me, grace, and pete?

that sounded like a comically bad idea.

you said yes anyway.

peter chose the restaurant after mat suggested meeting in manhattan, a suggestion he probably made with you in mind. it was a bit fancier than you would've liked. you were fully expecting on finding a little mom and pop hole in the wall with some indoor seating and calling it a day, but you should've known peter was more refined than that.

you were in a black dress with his jacket draped over your shoulders when you walked in the restaurant. mat had texted you earlier to let you know he and grace were already seated.

peter’s hand was on the small of your back as he led you back to the table. he plastered a polite smile on his face and whispered in your ear. “why did you agree to this?”

you shrugged. “thought it would be fun.” you glanced back with a smile on your face. “i think you'll really like mat, he's cool. and grace is nice too.” though, admittedly, you didn't know as much about her as you did mat. after all, he was the one you quieted the anxieties you were feeling about this date entirely.

“it’ll be great!” mat said as the two of you walked around a park. “you and i already get along,” he passed back your now peeled orange. you immediately shove three pieces in your mouth. “it would only make sense that our partners would also get along.”

not even peter’s cynicism could put a damper on your mood.

mat and grace stood as the two of you approached. mat hugged you first, then shook peter’s hand. you and grace waved at each other before you took your seats. mat pulled grace’s seat out before he sat down, peter was seated before you could even blink.

you shrugged it off, pulling out a chair wasn't that big of a deal. but you saw mat’s lips pull down in a frown before it was gone entirely.

“what’s good here?” mat asked. “i've never been.”

you glanced at the menu, your mouth started watering already. “the lobster ravioli looks good,” you noted. “god my stomach is growling already.”

peter made a noise in the back of his throat. “have you looked at the salads?”

you froze. in the corner of your eye, you saw mat’s head snap up from where he sat diagonally from you. “why would i look at the salads?” you asked. “i want pasta.”

peter shrugged. “just think the salad would be healthier.”

“so you can get a salad. i want pasta.”

“if i’m paying, i think you should get—”

“it's on me tonight,” mat interrupted. his eyes met yours. “get what you want, twitch.”

you closed your eyes and sighed when you felt peter tense up next to you at the mention of your college nickname. in your head, you said a little prayer that he would drop it, or at least wait until the two of you were alone to address it.

grace cleared her throat and smiled at you. “has your season gotten any better?” she asked.

grateful for the sudden change in topic, you smiled back. “it has, i feel much better now. sorry that you caught me on a bad night.”

“it wasn't that bad, twitch,” mat said. “it was an off night for everyone. you did the best you could.”

you shot him a grateful smile right as peter cleared his throat. “how’s your season going, mat? i’ve been trying to keep up but you play so many games and so does this one,” he nudges you. “it’s hard to keep track.”

mat shrugged. “we have to get better at putting pucks in the net, that’s for sure.”

“don't let his modesty fool you, peter,” you started. “mat’s on an eight game point streak right now. he’s killing it.” mat looked up and smiled at you. on reflex you smiled back at him until peter cleared his throat.

peter blinked, then gave mat a smirk. “must be cool playing for the rangers,” he said. “has to be the greatest team in new york.”

your brows furrowed right as mat’s jaw clenched. you'd told peter about mat, how he was a forward for the islanders, and was a strict rangers hater. so it was a mystery how he confused mat for a rangers player at all.

“i don't play for the rangers,” mat replied coolly.

“my mistake,” peter shrugged before taking a sip of water. “i assumed your team was the winning team.”

your eyes widened and you nudged peter in the arm. “can you chill please?” you mumbled.

grace, sensing the tension, turned the conversation back towards you. “mat told me you grew up on long island, is that true?”

you nodded and smiled widely, grateful for the topic change. “yes! right down the street from ubs. my parents and i walked to the arena to see mat play not too long ago.”

“it’s like a five minute drive,” mat chimed in.

grace nodded, then froze. “how do you know that?”

he shrugged. “we ate dinner at her parents’ after the game.”

you could cut the tension with a knife. based on grace’s thinned out lips, she wasn't necessarily enthused about the idea of mat eating with you and your parents. granted, you didn't think anything of it, but maybe it was cause for concern for her.

thankfully, the server came over and took your orders. you told the server you wanted lobster ravioli before peter could order for you and sipped your water as he rolled his eyes.

when the food came out, you were too busy eating to notice the looks mat and peter were sending each other or the way grace kept glancing back and forth from you to mat. the lobster ravioli was just too good to focus on anything else.

when the time for the check came, peter scowled when mat paid for it, but said nothing. your mood soured the longer peter was grumpy. by the end of the date, you were rushing him out the door, but not without waving goodbye at grace and hugging mat.

peter didn't say anything until you got into his car. “i didn't know mat had met your parents.”

you blinked. “i didn't think it was worth mentioning. do you want me to tell you that jess and ella met my parents on draft day?”

“that’s not the point and you know it,” he scowled. “and why is he calling you twitch?”

you shrugged. “because it’s what everyone calls me. he heard it from emma and jessie and it’s stuck since then. why is it a problem?”

he huffed. “i never said it was a problem.”

“you're acting like it is.”

“that’s because you're too old to be going by a college nickname. when you meet my coworkers, can you just give them your real name?” he asked.

there was a sinking sensation in your stomach that you hadn't felt since you were twenty. “sure,” you tried to smile. “if it’ll make you happy.”

two days later, you were drying your hair after a 2-1 loss against montreal. peter had texted you earlier that week asking for days you were available to hang out with him and his friends.

truthfully, you didn't want to, especially after losing. but peter was so sweet last night. he brought you flowers, though you weren't really a fan of daisies, a bottle of his favorite wine, and pizza from a place down the street from your apartment. he let you pick the movie out and said you were beautiful.

you were willing to endure a night with his finance bro friends because he sacrificed his free time last night to see you.

you put your walk in outfit back on and sighed when you looked in the mirror. the last thing you wanted to do was go to a bar where you only knew your boyfriend.

but love was about sacrifice, right?

you drove home and ordered an uber to the bar in manhattan. when you finally arrived, it took you a second to realize where your boyfriend was.

he was propped against the wall while one of his friends was shooting pool. peter kept talking and didn't notice you walk up until you were right next to him.

“oh hey!” he kissed your cheek, which made you grin just a little. he was so sweet and you loved the affection. “how was your game?”

your smile faltered. “you didn't watch it?”

a light bulb went off in his mind. “oh, i mean, they had the islanders game going on, so i didn't get a chance to see it. i’m sorry, babe. i would’ve if i could’ve.” 

you nodded, not wanting to fight in public. because your game ended over an hour ago, and peter, according to your texts, had only been at the bar for forty-five minutes.

he seemed to take your silence as a sign that you were okay and ushered you forward towards his friends. “guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said before looking at you, expecting you to introduce yourself.

you waved and said your name. peter’s friends nodded back at you and got back to their game. peter was cheering as one of his friends, whose name you didn't know, shot a ball in the hole.

“peter,” you said over the loud music. “peter!”

he finally glanced at you, eyebrows raising like he just remembered you were there. “yeah?”

“i’m going to get a drink,” you said.

he nodded before turning back to the game.

your heart sunk as you walked to the bar, dodging bodies like your teammates did on their way to the net. in your backpocket, you could feel your phone vibrate. you reached back and pulled it out, smiling when you saw a text on your screen.

mat barzal: do you feel as shitty as i do?

you pulled up the nhl app and saw the score. a 4-5 loss against the rangers.

stupid fucking rangers.

you: i feel like absolute dog shit. like the kind i would have to pick up when i took benny on walks.

mat barzal: who’s benny?

you: my childhood dog, sweet as can be, but took massive dumps on every walk.

mat barzal: what’re you doing now?

you: at a bar with peter and his friends.

mat barzal: ...that’s fun?

you laughed at his message. 

you: if only, but i’m hopeful it’ll get better.

mat barzal: where are you right now?

you dropped him a pin.

you: why?

mat barzal: i’m like five minutes away, would it be weird if i joined you?

probably yes, given how mat and peter’s last interaction went, but you glanced back at your boyfriend who was laughing with his buddies. he didn't notice you'd been gone for almost ten minutes now.

so maybe you were feeling petty, but you didn't care at that point. maybe you'd pay for it later, but the price of not feeling alone in a dive bar was worth any tension that would inevitably come.

you: it wouldn't be weird! i’d actually appreciate some company right now.

mat barzal: bet.

you were alone for another seven minutes before you saw a mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors. you watched as his eyes searched the room until they landed on you. it was like someone flipped a switch, the way his face immediately lit up at the sight of you. the very sight made your stomach twist in a way that had you buzzing in your seat.

mat shoved his way through the crowd of people before he flagged down a bartender and took the seat next to you.

“hey,” he huffed, out of breath.

you laughed. “did you run here?”

he shrugged, even as his cheeks turned pink. “maybe. that’s not the point. what’re you drinking?”

you held up your half empty cup. “moscow mule.”

“you want another?”

you let mat buy you another drink. you let him pay for it. you let him ask you about how the game was and in turn, you asked how his went. you let him tell you about bo’s kids as well as matt’s, how the bet was going, how grace was doing.

he seemed ambivalent to that last conversation topic, the spark in his eyes when he talked about his teammates died quickly.

“i don't know,” he said, tracing the bar top with his pointer finger. “things are good.”

“but?” you asked.

“but i thought falling in love would be different.”

your heart lurched in your chest, your stomach twisted like you were about to vomit. there was no reason for it though, maybe it was the alcohol?

“you're in love with her?” you managed to get out.

he shook his head, and the pressure building in your chest lessened. “no, but maybe i should be.”

mat’s eyes looked past you, when you turned around, you saw he was staring at peter and his friends. “do you love him?” he asked quietly, just loud enough for you and only to hear.

the truth was, you used to when you were in college. you thought he hung the sky, the moon, and the stars. you thought he put the earth into motion. he was your sun. but now things were different, he was different, you were different. it was like a piece of a puzzle that almost fit but not completely, like you were forcing it into a spot and saying it was close enough.

“i don't know,” was the answer you settled for. “maybe in time, i will again.”

mat let out a breath. “but you don't right now?”

“not yet.”

he nodded.

a beat later, an arm slid around your waist that had you tensing until you heard his voice. “hey sweetheart, you'd been gone for a moment, i got concerned.” you could hear the tension in peter’s voice as he spoke to you. if you were a betting woman, you'd gamble your bottom dollar on mat being the reason for it.

“pete, hey,” mat said with a wave.

“it’s peter,” your boyfriend said. “hope you’re not feeling the sting of a loss too bad, mat.”

you whipped your head around to look at peter, confusion written all over your face. “you watched the game?”

peter shrugged like he barely heard you. he wasn't looking at you anyway, his gaze was locked on mat. “we pregamed before coming here.”

“you watched the rangers play but couldn't watch my game?”

but he didn't even acknowledge what you said. “it was nice seeing you mat, but me and my girlfriend are going to go play pool. have a good night.” peter steered you away from the bar and back towards the pool tables.

it was like someone was draining the life out of you like one would tap a tree for sap.

“i think i’m gonna go home,” you said, pulling away from peter. “i’m really tired and i have practice tomorrow.”

peter’s brows pulled together, he frowned. “but you just got here. i barely got to see you.”

“that’s because you were playing pool with your friends. i’ve been here for over half an hour, peter. i lost tonight and i just wanna go home and lay on the couch and watch trashy reality tv.”

“fine,” he huffed. “i’ll see you later.”

you went on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, but at the last minute he turned his head away so your lips met his cheek instead. you stepped back, a little hurt before you spun on your heels and headed for the exit.

“you're leaving?” you glanced over your shoulder and saw mat shoving past people to get to you.

“yeah,” you said. “i’m tired and wanna get in bed.”

“have you ordered an uber yet?”

you shook your head.

“let me ride home with you, i don't want you going home alone.” you were already shaking your head, telling him to catch uber back to long island, but he held a hand up. “it’s late and i don’t want to have to tell your mom that i let you catch an uber back to your apartment without making sure you got there safely.”

you held up your phone. “i can give you my location.”

“not good enough. i need to see you walk into your apartment building.”

“seriously, mat, i’d feel bad that you're adding more time to your commute.”

he shrugged like it was no big deal. “don't think of it like that, just think of it as me wanting to spend more time with you.”

the ride back to newark was short, but you felt bad knowing that mat had an hour trip back home because of you. but he shrugged your worries off and said he'd text you when you got home.

that night, after your second shower, after crawling into bed to watch the bachelor, you went to sleep smiling.

your mood over the next two days fluctuated, with you rarely hearing from peter. if you got any response, it was strictly five words max per text message. and each message took him at least thirty minutes to reply.

safe to say, when you arrived at prudential for another game, you were ready to devour the red starbursts you saved in your goalie bag.

except the bag was empty.

and really it shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but you'd been eating red starbursts before every game since you were six and your mom stopped caring about red dye 40. your shaking hands reached for your phone and hit peter’s contact. 

the phone rang and rang and rang and rang only to go straight to voicemail.

so you called again.

same thing.

so you called again.

same thing.

you called one more time and it went straight to voicemail.

peter: can you chill? i’m busy.

you: i need red starbursts. do you think you could bring me some?

radio silence.

so you waited five, ten minutes. and not a single reply.

you: peter? will you?

peter: i’m busy. why don’t you get that?

tears welled up in your eyes. you were starting tonight, you couldn't afford to not have the candy. what if you lost because you didn't have them? would the whole team blame you? you know you would.

you walked into the hallway and scrolled through your contacts. you hit the contact of the person you were searching for.

two rings.

“hello?”

“mat,” you sniffled, trying to keep the crying to a minimum, thankful you'd gotten there early enough, no one else was in the locker room. and no one was in the hall.

“hey, you okay? are you crying?”

“can you do me a huge favor?” you asked.

“anything.”

“can you bring me red starbursts? i tried asking peter but he’s busy and my parents are at work still and—”

“i got you, don't worry. where do you want me to meet you?”

a sob escaped your lips as relief crashed over you. “thank you thank you thank you, mat. just call me when you get here, and i’ll meet you.”

he was there in forty-five minutes with a ziploc bag stuffed full with your favorite candy.

you about tackled him in the hallway. “how did you get down here?” you asked, bouncing on your feet as he handed the bag over.

“apparently my face is familiar,” he joked. “when i told one of the social media interns i was here for you, she led me down here.”

without even thinking about it, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for the tightest hug possible. “i owe you one. seriously.”

when you pulled back, his cheeks were a light pink, something you could've read into had jess and ella not come bounding down the hallway.

“twitch! who is this?” they asked, wide smiles on their faces.

“no,” you mumbled. “mat, run.”

you tried pushing him away, but he turned around and smiled at your teammates. “i’m mat,” he said.

jess’ lips formed a smirk. “i’m jess, the best friend.”

“ella, the other friend.”

“are you staying for the game?” jessie asked, mirth rolling around in her irises.

“he can’t he's busy—”

“sure,” mat smiled. “i’d love to.” he turned back to you. “are your parents coming?”

you nodded, a little sheepishly. “they have my tickets—”

“you can have mine!” jess cut in. “they should be next to yours anyway.”

“you really don't have to come, mat—”

but he shrugged. “i’d love to. do you think your mom would cook again tonight?”

“i’m sure if you asked, she’d make a five course meal just for you.”

you missed the looks passed back and forth between jess and ella, only focused on the way mat’s lips curled up into a smile. “then i’ll see you out there, twitch.”

as he walked away, jess and ella smirked at you, waiting until he was fully out of sight (and earshot) to shriek at you.

“he’s eaten dinner with your parents?!”

“shut up,” you groaned, walking back into the locker room. “it’s not that deep.”

“girl, what was he even doing here?”

you held up the bag of starbursts. “i ran out.”

jess paused. “...and he brought you some?” she reached for the bag, testing its weight in the palm of her hands. “girl, this is like several packs worth of starbursts.”

you shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. “he was being nice.”

but when you skated out for warm ups and saw him sitting next to your parents, you could see the blue of the sirens jersey he was wearing, you could see your number 26 on his sleeves. he was leaning down to listen to what your mom was saying when you skated past their seats.

your parents were sporting a homemade t-shirt of you in goalie gear at the ripe age of six, if you had to guess. on any other day, you wouldn't have felt the heat flooding your cheeks, but something about mat standing next to your parents wearing those shirts felt a little too intimate. it felt like something peter wouldn't be happy about if he found out.

the same peter who brushed you off, you reminded yourself.

suddenly, you cared a little less.

you skated to the crease and started scuffing it up before prepping for the rest of the warm ups.

by the time the game ended, you were exhausted. it ended in a win, something you were grateful for. ottawa put up a good fight, but you felt every one of those twenty-three shots on goal in your bones. you were so tired, you didn't even bother checking your phone, you just shoved it in your back pocket and walked outside of the locker room.

what you saw in the hallway had to be some sort of nightmare. standing with your parents was mat, jess, and ella all of whom were pointing at the homemade shirts they wore.

you immediately started walking towards them.

“you have to make me a shirt next time,” mat quipped.

““no—” you cut in.

“of course, mat! if you come over afterwards, you can pick which picture you want on your shirt!” your mom crooned.

your eyes widened. “mom no—”

but mat was already smirking and cutting you off. “i have just the picture in mind.” 

jess’ eyes brightened, like a lightbulb went off above her head. “is it the amish picture?”

he shook his head and smiled. “nah, i got a better one.” when ella and jess opened their mouths to ask, he shook his head again. “and it’s a secret. you'll all find out one day.”

you laughed while your teammates rolled their eyes. it wasn't long before they were saying their goodbyes and walking out while you, your parents, and mat just stood around.

“you know, mat,” your dad started. “the offer still stands if you want to come over for a drink.”

mat’s eyes met yours. a silent are you going? passing between the two of you.

you thought about how you should probably go home, how you'd be better just going to your apartment instead of driving an hour to your parents’ house.

but your parents made cute shirts and sat in the arena cheering you on like they had been doing for years.

“your call, barzy. but be warned, we will probably play spades. so if you're game—”

“i’m down,” he smiled.

which is how you ended up throwing cards at mat because your parents set the two of you in the card game.

“what the fuck mat!” you yelled, but it was drowned out by your parents cackling and mat groaning.

“language!” your mom chided.

mat threw his hands up at your accusation. “i've never played this before! your parents have been playing together for years!”

“not an excuse!”

“oh c'mon, squirt, don't be such a sore loser, it’s mat’s first time playing.”

you huffed and sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. “i don't remember being this bad,” you said.

“you were a concussed fifteen year old, i doubt you remembered much from that time,” your dad quipped as he shuffled the deck of cards.

mat choked on a laugh that he quickly stifled when he saw your glare. you opened your mouth to retort when your phone started vibrating in your back pocket.

peter.

you sighed and held your phone up. “i've gotta take this, i’ll be back.” you pointed at mat. “make sure they don't cheat.”

mat held his hands up. “i wouldn't even know how they could cheat at shuffling cards, but okay.”

you stepped into the living room, just far enough for a little privacy, but close enough to monitor what was being said by your parents. “hello?”

“where are you?” peter asked immediately. “i tried ringing your doorbell but you haven't buzzed me in. i’m freezing my ass off, here.”

“huh?” you asked, wondering if you heard him wrong.

“i’m outside your apartment,” he sighed.

“wait,” you said. “why?”

a moment of silence and then a deeper sigh. “to apologize. i feel like you were angry with me earlier. so i wanted to make things better.”

you blinked. “so you're at my apartment?”

“with daisies, your favorite. so, are you going to stop ignoring me and let me in? it’s way too fucking cold for this, baby.”

you grimaced at the idea of telling him the truth. “i would peter, but i’m not in jersey right now. i’m in elmont, with my parents and—”

mat’s loud ass laugh cut you off.

the silence on the phone was deafening.

“is mat there? was that him?” peter’s voice was cold in a way you hadn't heard before.

“yeah,” you said, not seeing an issue with it. “he's here. we’re playing spades.”

a long pause. “why?”

“why what?”

“why are you at your parents’ house with another guy? can you tell me how that makes sense?”

you pinched the bridge of your nose and moved upstairs to your bedroom so your parents and mat couldn't hear. “we’re just playing a card game—”

“why is he there?”

“because he came to my game,” you said.

“why was he at your game?”

“because he didn't hang up on me when i asked for red starbursts, peter.”

“oh my god,” he groaned. “i was in a meeting! you seriously can't be mad at me for not getting stupid candy for you this one time.”

“well, you asked why he was here and i told you. he brought me red starbursts, jess gave him one of her tickets, and my parents invited him over for dinner.”

“why?”

he couldn't be serious.

“because they're my parents, and they've never met a friend of mine that they didn't like. which you would know if you'd had more than three conversations with them.”

“oh don't turn this around on me, sweetheart. you’re the one with a guy at your parents’ house right now.”

“you know what?” you started. “i’m not even gonna entertain this bullshit. why did you stop by my place again?”

“to apologize!”

“for what?”

“i don't know,” he admitted. “i could tell you were mad and probably blamed me so i came to apologize for whatever i did to piss you off.” you could practically feel the sarcasm in his voice seeping through the phone.

“okay peter,” you said. “i’m going to hang up now because you're being an ass and if we continue this phone call any longer, you're going to be single. i’ll talk to you when i’m back in jersey.”

before he could say another word, you hung up and took a deep breath to steel your nerves. you took a moment to pull yourself together as you headed down the stairs and back into the dining room. 

“everything okay, squirt?” your dad asked.

you nodded and did your best to smile. “just peachy.” you walked back to your seat and pointed at mat. “don't fuck this up for me, okay?” you said. “i have a lot of pride riding on this game.”

“language,” your mom scolded.

but mat smiled anyway and slapped your hand out of the air. “wouldn't dream of it.”

mat left around 2am and you were asleep in your childhood room by 2:15.

[alicentsgf]

I always thought it meant this in a way, that it represented them, but I think this is actually the formula for how.

Like Shauna and Lottie told us, there is no "it", it was always just them. So regardless of whether this symbol has some ritualistic or practical meaning within the actual story (such as being a map), I think more than anything this symbol was chosen to look like it does because it mirrors the positions on a soccer field. It represents them because thats what this story has always really been about. It represents the team they had before they (both literally and figuratively) cannablised themselves.

Soccer is a perfectly balanced sport. At the moment the starting whistle goes for the two teams on a soccer field you can halve that field any way you like and get 11 players placed evenly across 11 different positions, each side a mirror of the other. The Yellowjackets however have always been innately lacking balance. Because of what some of them were willing to do to Allie, as well as the other already visible fractures in the team, they were unbalanced before they even got on the plane. In that way they were already working against nature, against the "wilderness", because isnt nature all about balance? Ecosystems, food chains, and life cycles, everything has an ebb and flow. Every animal has its specialised role in its environment, just like the players in a soccer game.

I've spoken a lot on here about the major themes in this show and what it all might mean, but ultimately what it boils down to in my opinion is they should have listened to Nat from the start. They should have "played like a fucking team and won". It was the only thing that could have possibly saved them because regardless of some supernatural force or not, it wasn't the wilderness that killed anyone, it was them. They made it possible. Their constant ostracisation and rejection of each other. "Freezing out" Allie (figuratively) becomes "Freezing out" Jackie (literally). The way they repeatedly push out the "weak", the least useful, the easiest (gentlest) targets until all there is left to do is turn on each other instead. Fracturing completely. Now we see the teens in season 3 splitting into factions, making 3 or 4 seperate gameplans that end up conflicting in the worst possible way all because they couldn't trust one another. If they'd just worked as a team/communicated then Mari wouldnt have died. All of them killed her in the end, even Mari herself contributed.

It's like Lottie said to Mari right before she fell. Shes been here before, she could let it be different, but then it isnt. It happens again, and again, and again. Allie, Jackie, Javi, Ben; "You want to freeze her out?", "Jackie didn't say it", "He's not one of us", pushing them out one by one until the whole team is so unbalanced it fractures irreparably, reflected in the way the symbol appears in the fracture of Misty's glasses the night they hunt the outsiders - the night that marks the end of this symbiotic little society they've created, suddenly divided by a reminder of home. We see it in Misty's ostracisation right from the pilot, their inability to treat her as a teammate. Its the reason they're even stuck there in the first place. Misty being so desperate to hold onto her first taste of community and acceptance that she destroys the transponder. Them all isolating Shauna in her grief and guilt, othering Lottie in her illness, its all the same thing. Its what dooms them every time.

So many opportunities to make a different choice and they never do. They make the same mistake a hundred times over. Thats the essence of tragedy though, because of course it could be different, they could make a different choice, but they won't. They are who they are. Who they've always been.

"It never meant what you thought it meant," doesn't just apply to the necklace. All this time demonising and rejecting this symbol like they demonised and rejected each other, but it doesn't mean what they think. Thematically speaking it's not a curse, or a warning, its a representation of the only thing that could have saved them.

[crescenthistory]

could i pretty please with a cherry on top ask you to argue for dialogue prompt 62 with sirius?? 🥹🤭

you absolutely can<33 this is a bit angsty but mostly in the bittersweet way, i promise. i just adore the thought of sirius falling for a slytherin during the war and learning to understand and forgive his brother through them...

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 62 "this means war, my dear" with sirius black

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, hurt/comfort, pre-established relationship, background wizarding war, reader was friends with the slytherin skittles, implied death eater barty

wc: 1k

Sirius was always the best of the bunch to distract you.

When the meetings became longer and more frequent and when you felt you were spending more time at various safe houses than in your own bed, Sirius had become the one you would subconsciously turn to. Whether he realised the position you had accidentally bestowed upon him or not, you did not know, but he seemed to readily accept it regardless.

Prior to the Order, you never really spoke with Sirius Black, being a year below him and close friends with his little brother and the other Slytherins. Had someone told you four years ago that you would seek him out in corners and laugh quietly together, you would have thought them mad and, perhaps worse, thought yourself a traitor.

Yet, here you were. 

When you excused yourself for a glass of water, there was Sirius, ready with the cup. When you got up to pace by the window, he would sit down in the windowsill, so you weren’t alone. When you could not sleep at night, you went to the living room where you almost always found him sitting with some beat up guitar, playing some tune you never knew.

It remained unspoken, but you reckoned he kept you tethered more than you’d care to realise.

Dorcas was with you in the Order, but it was in part because you were such close friends that you struggled turning to her. So, it became Sirius. You weren’t sure how, when or why, but it became him.

Dumbledore had called the Order together to spend the weekend in Potter Manor, planning an extraction of muggleborns that were held up in Southern Wales by some death eaters there. Officially, you didn’t have any names on death eaters involved yet, but from the minute Moody described one of them as having “acid green hair”, you were mentally checked out for the rest of the day. Everyone knew, you could tell from the weight on their eyes on you, but you couldn’t focus.

You excused yourself early, and found yourself sat on the floor in front of an old record player that had gathered dust, looking through the piles upon piles of records, not really seeing any of them.

A beat up pair of black boots came into view seconds before he spoke. “Some music to drown out your thoughts?”

You looked up to meet Sirius’ eyes, already hearing the joking tone in his voice and relieved to find the same atmosphere on his face. He crouched down next to you, so you wouldn’t have to strain your neck and bumped his shoulder into yours. “What’re we listening to, princess?”

He questioned you, but he didn't hurry you, allowing you to take your time to process your thoughts and connect your mind back into a conversational mode. You gave him a weak smile. “I don’t really know, I haven’t looked at them properly yet.”

Sirius had the grace not to comment on the fact that you had been sitting before the records for a good 20 minutes – on the contrary, he looked completely unphased, still smiling that easy smile of his. The more you got to know him, the more the suspicion that it wasn’t all that easy settled into you. It only made you more grateful to have it bestowed upon you.

“Well, this is Uncle Wulfric’s collection mostly, so it’s quite outdated. None of the David Bowie, Freddie Mercury crowd, but I believe he has some Andrews Sisters, Glenn Miller and the likes.”

You sometimes forgot that Potter Manor was as much his house as James’.

“Oh, that’s alright.” You didn’t quite recognise your own voice as you spoke. “I don’t really listen to a lot of Bowie anyway.”

Sirius turned on his heels to you, grabbing your knee with one hand and his chest with the other as he gasped theatrically. “You simply cannot say any such blasphemous words to me, princess, I’ll have a stroke. I’m terribly sorry, but this means war, my dear.” 

He nodded at you gravely but squeezed your knee to show it was all in jest. You surprised even yourself when a laugh bubbled up past your lips, rumbling your body in a delightful way. 

Sirius’ eyes widened along with his smile as he took in the sight. His eyes read mission accomplished and you deigned not to think too much about its implications. 

You held your hands up in surrender as the mirth continued its dance across your face. “Fetch me a white flag to wave, would you? We’ve got enough war on our hands without me angering the Almighty Music Knower.”

Sirius dropped his chin to his chest and chuckled, looking up at you through his stray dark curls and long eyelashes.

“What do you say then, pretty girl?” He squeezed your knee again. “Can I put on some Ella Fitzgerald for you?”

Your eyes followed his gaze to the Fitzgerald plate propped up against the side of the record player. It seemed well-loved. “You may,” you said with faux recession, to which Sirius’ grin became more beaming.

He leaned over past you, putting his knee down on the ground right beside yours to reach the record player and pop the plate on with skilled precession – a comfortable action, one he has done many times before. You didn’t move to give him more room, instead you allowed him into your space, basking in how it seemed to ground you.

Sirius smelled like his shampoo and leather jacket, even when he wasn’t wearing it, and though his skin was cold whenever it brushed yours, you still ached for its proximity. 

This odd feeling going through you was perhaps something to look into after all of this, when the only war that was waged was the one between you and Sirius apparently, over what music to listen to. For now, when he gave you a smile that was equal parts fond and reassuring, you simply did your best to return it.

[el-bellanaris]

I find the fandom consensus that Solas and the Inquisitor going into the fade at the end of Veilguard being an eternal "banishment" really interesting because at least for me I feel like it ignores what the ending is supposed to mean for Solas overall. Solas in Veilguard is finally at the crossroads in his life that some other Inquisition companions and advisors were at in DAI. I mention Inquisition specifically because for me his journey is so much more reflected and connected with them, his journey might take two games but it narratively fits so well within the scope of Inquisition. 

Anyway as the player character, we are given the choice that will define the fate of these characters based on our emotions and logic and this will become the canon choice of that particular world state. For Solas, we aren’t told much information about his future and the results of his choice but we are shown it through visual motifs and more directly through the difference in the pair of remnants left behind by Mythal. We have the remnant that exists in the crossroads and has lived the last couple thousand years existing in a static state never leaving and never growing past her past. The other remnant existed inside Flemeth and we were told by Morrigan in Veilguard that this remnant was able to love and live many lives experiencing the world and living more fluidly.

Our choice is based on our opinion of Solas but the outcome is reflected in what it means for him and if your choice will have him continue the cycle and stay in a static existence without growth or go forward into a future full of new experiences, change and growth. If you fight him you are continuing the cycle of violence, leading to Solas to become as bad as the Evanuris and becoming static - stuck in his ways and as a result likely stuck in the prison of regret that he may never escape from because he refuses to grow. Thus Solas becomes like Elgar'nan and the other evanuris and Rook becomes like Solas in replaying the cycle of history of what happened when the veil was created. 

If you trick him and best him fairly in a battle of wits, Rook becomes his equal, his proper opponent on the chess board rather than just a piece on Solas's board. The cycle breaks because Solas has to come to terms with the fact that he has lost, this results in change that is confronting for Solas but he takes it with grace and falls into a brighter future. 

The last choice, the compassionate ending where Solas is able to confront his past but also be comforted towards the future by the Inquisitor, regardless of whether or not he romanced them will result in Solas actively and freely walking away from his plan and the game he has been playing against and with Rook. The cycle is broken, there are no winners or losers except the Inquisitor who vowed to change his mind and of course a Inquisitor who said that their love would endure. They are the winners here. (Obviously everyone has their opinions on if their love did endure for them personally so this is more so just me describing the facts presented in the game if that ending is chosen)

This ending is also representative of Solas finally reaching the moment that Cullen, Blackwall and the Iron Bull were able to reach where they could find themselves putting down their duty and moving forward with something new. All 4 of them are bound to some kind of organisation or duty be it the templars, the ben-hassarath, Blackwall’s duty to his lie and guilt or in Solas's case the revolutionary for his people. The other three in Inquisition were able to become something new, something in their heart they wanted to be but had to be confronted with the mortifying truth of facing themselves and following a new path. Solas doesn't get the exact clarity in his endings that these three characters get, however he does actively state that he will go to atone and then calm the anger of the blight.

He, like these other three and the remnant of Mythal that left their old lives behind, will now walk on a completely new path. So for me it felt incredibly clear that he would not be stuck in any way anymore because of this and being bound to the prison eternally would not even be an outcome on this path even if he is to go back there first. This ending is about completely forging something new for him, something that requires him to confront himself and accept himself entirely. And the Inquisitor is here as not a prisoner with him, but rather someone to join him on the path he is to take next.

So when people say the pair of them will make the prison into a home or just generally only seem to see a future for them in that prison by themselves I find myself compelled to ask why? Why would the ending that's about breaking the cycle and very visibly showing Solas making the choice for himself and freely walking into the future be one that leads to another eternal permanent state of being. It ignores the idea of what this ending means and I think focuses slightly too heavily on taking the ending slides just as face value. 

The choices you make as the person holding the controller/mouse happen in tandem with what you didn't choose. So they all exist as possible outcomes and you can occasionally get more information from viewing other choices then just focusing on the one you made. When you are given the ending slide for the romanced Inquisitor that follows him into the fade we are shown them hugging, with Solas who has shed his armour and is wearing an outfit akin to what he wore when he was at Skyhold. Aka when he is at home, at rest. This ending shows him at rest with the Inquisitor and we are told they are reunited and their story has come to an "end."

Now it's easy to get tunnel vision and only view this ending and think oh they're just in the fade forever, but if you view the others, especially the ones for where you trick or fight Solas they specifically show Solas falling into the fade. This is important because it shows the direct result of your choice through how he enters the fade and is indicative of the future that will follow for him. In one we see Solas falling into darkness because the cycle of violence continues and in the other Solas falls into a brighter future because he accepts defeat. So for the romanced ending it's not representing their permanent state of being but rather showing us the direct result of Solas entering the fade in the same way the other two I mentioned are. He doesn't fall; rather he finds himself stable, standing up and able to accept the Inquisitor's love in an embrace in a moment alone. That's what he does first, not what they do for an eternity. In the non-romanced option he is actively walking to a brighter future with his staff in hand and dressed ready to approach his next challenge. This is likely what he will do next in the other future too just with the Inquisitor at his side this time but after he gets his bearings and they are able to move forward together.

When I see people say well what about the Inquisitor's life, why is she throwing it away for a man or what about her friends and family deciding that it's absolutely certain she will never see them again I am again compelled to ask why. They are entering a bright future together, and that bright future is defined by you ultimately. For one thing, time in the fade serves to be convenient to the narrative it is in. Rook was in there for a couple hours but in the real world weeks had passed which I assumed was because that was how long the group needed to make the dagger and successfully be able to free Rook. For the Inquisitor they spend hours in the fade in a quest and return within minutes because they were needed in the real world to make a choice about the Wardens that evening. So if you believe wholeheartedly that your Inquisitor would never abandon the world right now there's no reason why the fade wouldn't let them out in whatever time is most convenient for the imagined future for your character. Maybe the two of them spend weeks healing the anger of the titan's dreams and then return to this world in an hour. Let's not forget these are two people who rarely sit on their ass and just wait for the world to fix itself. The minute Solas was out of the prison he was out there in Minrathous fighting Elgarn'arn and Ghila'nain whilst protecting the people of the city. The Inquisitor is helping lead the efforts against the blight in three different countries based on their letters so why wouldn't either of them join the forces to help the world heal. Neither of them understand rest truly, so this moment of love together with them is likely just a quick break in between making their next steps. 

In terms of where they end up, I personally believe any ending that shows Solas entering the golden part of the fade indicates both a brighter future for him but means he will not enter that prison again. There is no need to, the prison is figuratively a representation of Solas being trapped by his regrets and unable to move forward so when he walks forward into a new future this prison now has no hold on him. Even when he is tricked, I think accepting defeat is enough to free him. He would just need longer to find his bearings and move forward but still would not need the prison anymore. We see light in these endings and the only places that are bright and full of light in the fade are the Dread wolf’s crossroads and the lighthouse so most likely he is returning to one of those places. Especially when in the non-romanced compassion ending he is dressed differently and has his staff he would need to acquire from the lighthouse. The Black City is also the closest I’ve ever seen it when viewed from inside the crossroads so it would make sense for him to reach it from there.

To end this very long post I will say that even though we aren’t told exactly what happens to Solas and the Inquisitor in the end I will stand by the fact that this game isn’t telling us they are banished to be alone in a prison forever. The game doesn’t tell us everything in words, rather it frequently relies on themes, imagery, actions and our own interpretations to make up the rest however so much is said to us and I wanted to write it all out somewhere for my own sanity really.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 3 - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, a bit of drinking

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: part three baby here we go! hope you guys enjoy!! if i forgot a tag it either wouldn’t let me or i missed it (if i missed u pls comment and i’ll fix it right up). anyways kisses for u all i hope ur having a good day, my inbox is open for anything as always MWAH

@cutenote @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @l9vesick @bb-1s-blog @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @annamcdonalds67 @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @rainyenthusiastdaze @heartz4chris @sturnvvz @cupidsword @wurlibydominicfike @mattswrld @yoursopretty15 @poopydroopt @latinasforchrizz @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner

it’s been a day since the kiss, and you still haven’t told a single soul. for some reason, you’re way too scared to admit what happened to your roommates, even though you know they’d be the last to judge you for it.

and yet you just can’t, despite the fact that it’s been eating you alive for over twenty-four hours straight. saying it out loud makes it real, so you decided it was best to keep it inside.

however, you still need to give chris his jersey back, which you’ve been neglecting to do because you don’t want to see him.

or maybe because you’re scared.

it’s an involuntary thought, and it makes you angry. there’s nothing to be scared of, because he doesn’t have any power over you.

right?

you grab his jersey off the top of your dresser. it’s all clean, and it still smells like detergent from when you washed it yesterday. you’ve been putting it off all day, and it’s time for that to stop.

the sun is nearly gone, so you head down the stairs, silently thankful that ramona and cassidy are both are both runnings errands as you slip out the front door.

you’re in your comfy clothes, black sweats and baby blue hoodie that you stole from cass, and you’re immediately regretting the fact that you didn’t grab a jacket.

you hurry across the lawn, passing the cars parked in the driveway. there’s an unfamiliar red one at the end, and it almost makes you pause, but the possibility doesn’t fully connect in your mind yet.

so you head up the steps and knock on the door loudly, still very much so a woman on a mission.

it takes a moment, a long moment, before someone comes to open it for you. it’s connor, which is unfortunate, because you really weren’t prepared to speak with anyone besides the one boy you’re actually looking for.

he looks a little confused, but he smiles nonetheless. “what’s up?”

“i’m just, uh, trying to drop off chris’s jersey.” any bit of confidence you had is gone now as you choke on your words.

connor’s eyes widen a little as his grin fades, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. “he’s a little busy right now, but i’ll get it to him.”

your eyebrows furrow as he reaches his arms out, like he’s trying to rush the process along without any more interrogation.

“busy with what?” you question, though you hand it over regardless.

he looks at you for just a half a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to piece it together, and then it clicks. chris is busy because he has a girl over, and that’s her car in the driveway.

you wish it didn’t phase you, but you can feel your face morphing into an emotion that borders disgust and anger.

“oh, i see.” is all you say, because you’re already fucking embarrassed beyond belief.

you turn and head back down the stairs, trying to ignore the way your stomach is flipping like you’re going to throw up.

connor doesn’t say anything. instead you hear the door close, and you feel completely numb as you walk back to your own porch. part of it is because of the cold, and part of it is because you feel so stupid.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but that was exactly what you should’ve anticipated knowing chris.

you step back into the warmth of your own home, and even when you close and lock the door, a shiver chases you.

you head back up to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off by the door. you want further confirmation, so you peek through the curtains that hang over your window.

chris’s room, which is coincidentally directly across from yours, reveals nothing besides a dim light that peeks through the closed blinds.

you let the drapes fall back into place, still in shock. it was so ridiculous to believe for even a second that he was any different than he had been for the last six months.

you should’ve taken him at his word. he doesn’t date, and he’s not interested in you beyond teasing you or making you look like an idiot.

and you refuse to be taken for a fool.

you pace along the floor for a second until you decide you deserve some wine. you know there’s at least half a bottle in the fridge, and maybe it’ll help you calm the hell down.

a few minutes later you’re back upstairs, huddled up in your bed with a book you had started earlier in the day, sipping from your glass as you read.

it’s hard to fall into the fantasy world you picked out at first, but then you begin to feel your cheeks flush and your eyes are suddenly devouring the words.

you’re so enveloped in the plot, completely unaware that your roommates had gotten home until ramona walks in. it startles you, so much so that you lose your page.

she pauses to take in your state; the empty glass, the minimal leftovers in the bottle you brought with you, your droopy eyes.

“wine before 7 p.m. on the lord’s day? you’re crazy.” she jokes with a grin.

you shrug, also smiling a little bit. “felt like getting a little wild.”

mona puts a hand on her hip and nods toward the door she just entered through. “well, could i maybe convince you to take this crazy train downstairs so we can catch up on VPR? we’re like, three episodes behind now.”

you snap your book closed and roll out of bed, which you can tell by her snort looks far from graceful.

“all you had to say was VPR.”

you sit at your desk, gnawing on your bottom lip as you try to focus on the stupid online homework prompts that are due soon. the overcast afternoon light pours into your room, and you hear your phone buzz against the wood.

chris

still playing hard to get?

you roll your eyes before you can help it. the text doesn’t surprise you, because he’s been messaging you for the past few days, ever since he inevitably found out you stopped by from connor.

chris

that’s clearly a yes.

you wonder how many times he’s going to text you as you put your phone down to pull your hair out of your face, tying it up at the back of your head.

once again, you hear the device vibrate, and you flip it to glance at the screen.

chris

i can see you ignoring me you know

your eyes betray you as you glance out the window, just to find chris standing in front of his own. he’s pouting at you with his phone in his hand, hair all curly and damp like he just got out of the shower.

you stand up from your chair without a second thought and take a few steps so you can yank your curtains closed.

he might refuse to believe it, but you’re not playing hard to get. you just can’t fucking stand him.

chris

now that’s just cold

come onnnnnn princess

y/n

holy shit

do NOT call me princess

chris

you love it

y/n

i hate you

chris

if you don’t stop this i’m coming over there

y/n

i’d like to see you try asshole

chris

fine.

you pull back one curtain to call his bluff, and your heart actually drops when you see that he’s not standing there anymore. that just means he’s probably on his way over already.

you have no idea if cass or ramona are home or in their rooms or what. but you do know that you’re locking your door, and if he makes it through the house undetected he’s not getting into your room.

you sit on the edge of your bed for a moment, waiting because you don’t know what else to do with yourself. and then the knock comes, right before chris twists the handle and finds it locked.

“open up.” he demands, his gruff voice muffled through the door.

“no.”

“i’ll go downstairs and get cass if you don’t let me in.” he threatens, which doesn’t really scare you.

cassidy will kick his ass out if she realizes you don’t want him here. you’ll have to explain some things, but it’s probably time to do that anyways.

“you’re being a baby and you’re wasting your time. go home, chris.” you reiterate.

“come on, i just want to talk.” he wiggles the handle once again, like that will somehow open it.

“then call a sex addiction helpline.” you reply hotly, glaring at the slab of wood that separates you as if you can actually see him, though you’re glad you can’t.

“can you please open the door?”

“nope.”

“jesus, you’re so stubborn it’s ridiculous.” he groans, and you hear his forehead thump against the door.

he’s growing frustrated now, and even though you’re heated too, you kind of love it.

“so are you! how many times do i have to tell you to leave?” you shoot back.

it’s silent for a moment, which scares you. then you hear a small sigh.

“i didn’t think i would have to do this.”

the lock on the door begins to twist and turn rapidly, and you leap forward to grab it with your hand.

chris twists it hard and your fingers fumble to keep it jammed. your thumb is already in pain, and the harder he pushes the closer you are to failing. you’re finally forced to let go as chris comes shoving his way into your room a few seconds later.

even though he stumbles slightly, he looks so proud of himself, clutching the heavy duty paper clip he used to get inside.

“there, that’s better.” he says smugly.

you watch his eyes take in your room, covered in posters and full of random artifacts, and you hate it. for some reason, it feels deeply personal.

“holy shit, why don’t you just go home already?”

it’s impossible to keep your tone level anymore as you turn away from him.

“i’m here now, so you have to talk to me.”

“no, i really don’t.” you reply before plopping down onto your mattress, crossing your arms as you lean against the headboard.

“don’t be a brat.” chris follows your lead, even though you weren’t inviting him to join you.

he falls beside you, sprawling out on his back by your feet. his shirt raises over his sweats, exposing a bit of skin above the band of his boxers, and you have to tear your eyes away.

you can feel the warmth of his body, can smell his aftershave mixed with hints of some kind of fresh body wash, and all of it drives you crazy.

you curl your body into itself so there’s as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“why are you so mad?” chris turns his head slightly so he can look at you.

“i’m not mad, you just disgust me.”

this makes him smile. “i beg to differ, i think you like me.”

without hesitation, you extend one leg to kick him in his side. even though it’s not very forceful, he lets out a little groan of surprise, hand going to rub his hip as he frowns.

“you didn’t have to kick me, damn.”

“you deserved that.” you argue, tucking your knees back to your chest.

this time he stays silent and just looks at you. his eyes scan your face, darting down to your lips every other second, and you’re suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“what the fuck are you staring at?” you ask in a brief moment of panic.

his eyes are so unnerving. it’s like he can see right through you.

“you’re pretty.” chris shrugs before averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

your face flushes, and you force yourself to remember the embarrassment from the other day, how stupid you felt after discovering that he’s still the same old player that sits beside you now.

“shouldn’t you be giving some other girl an STD or something?” you snap, and he huffs out a breathy laugh.

“first of all, i’m totally clean. and if you’d actually let me explain, you’d realize the girl that was over on sunday is just an ex fling who was picking up some old stuff.”

his clarification shocks you, though you still don’t necessarily believe it yet. he could be lying, even though it doesn’t seem like he is.

“you’re seriously telling me you weren’t hooking up with her?” you ask.

“it was strictly platonic. nothing happened.” he confirms, shifting to face you again.

chris lifts his hand to trace gentle patterns along your shins, and you don’t shy away this time. the feeling of his palms, even when separated by your leggings, is far nicer than you imagined.

“okay.” you mutter simply.

“you’ve been ignoring me the entire week and all i get is an ‘okay’?” he halts his movements so he can curl his fingers into air quotes.

“what would you like me to say?”

“an apology would be a nice start.”

you bark out a laugh. “an apology for what? for not talking to you? because i really didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

he just shakes his head, nudging your legs with one of his knuckles lightly. “god, you and that headstrong attitude will be the death of me.”

“can’t wait.” you quip back, and now its his turn to chuckle.

silence settles over the two of you for a moment, and you’ve been far too close for too long, so you move to stand once again.

“alright, well, we talked. time for you to get lost.” you motion toward the door.

chris sits up, running a hand through his messy hair before he replies. “look, we don’t have another game until sunday, so we’re hosting at the house tomorrow. you should come.”

you raise an eyebrow and tap your chin, like you’re really contemplating. “i’ll have to think about it.”

“please? it’ll only be fun if you go.” he flashes you a charming smile, and you hate that it actually does kind of work.

“maybe i’ll make a special appearance. maybe.” you point a wary finger at him as he gets back on his feet.

“that’s what i like to hear.” chris says, making his way toward you.

you expect him to pass right by, but he lingers, like there’s something else on his mind. he stares down at you with those big blue eyes, and you can feel yourself slipping into dangerous territory.

“is there something else?” you ask softly, and the sound of your voice is maddening to him.

you don’t even try to tempt chris on purpose, he knows this, and yet everything about you is so enticing. not to mention he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened, or that pretty little mouth of yours.

but he shakes his head again, because the things he’s thinking about you so early on in this strange relationship frighten him.

“uh, no, sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

and then he blows right by you without waiting for a response, disappearing just as quickly as he arrived.

[dorkyteenagedirtbag-ks]

Synopsis: Forced to face his past, Y/N prepares for Karasuno’s match against Shiratorizawa—where his ex-boyfriend and former best friend await.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

I was practicing my reception with Daichi when I heard Coach Ukai calling us.

We were going to play against Shiratorizawa the following week so we were training hard.

I wasn't happy about it. My ex-boyfriend played for their team, and even the mere thought of him annoyed me.

Coach explained the strategy of how we would play against them, and after practice, everyone left for home.

On my way back, memories of my time at Shiratorizawa resurfaced.

---

Tendō and I were friends since childhood. Volleyball introduced us to one another, and we immediately bonded over it. He would block my spikes constantly, and it annoyed me so much during that time.

As we grew up, our friendship never faltered, and we both joined the volleyball team. Tendō integrated seamlessly, becoming a key player.

And that's where I met him: Wakatoshi Ushijima.

I kept my distance at first. Sure, he was good-looking, but he frowned all the time and had this intimidating aura around him.

One day, while chatting with Tendō, I had let it slip that I had somewhat of a crush on Ushijima. Being the meddler he was, Tendō took it upon himself to bring us together. Regardless of how much I complained or attempted to decline from the ordeal, the sneaky bastard persisted in finding methods of nudging us together.

Our first meeting was brief and uneventful, but afterward, Tendō orchestrated more and more of these "coincidental" encounters. He always brushed it off as luck, but I knew better than that.

As time passed, I started to spend time with Ushijima outside of practice. People tended to think he was cold and distant—I used to think so too—but after knowing him better, I saw his kindness beneath that stoic mask. And if you paid close attention, you could catch a glimpse of that quiet, rare smile.

As we grew closer, he began to let me practice along with him and Tendō. As time passed, our friendship deepened, and I got brave enough to drop hints about my feelings.

I did not know whether Ushijima was truly blind or just acting like he did not notice, but he never once reacted to my hints. Naturally, that left me pouting.

After I complained to Tendō, he—forcefully—urged me to confess already.

So, on one of our usual late-night walks one evening, I stopped abruptly, turned, and, without hesitation, spoke from the heart.

To my surprise, he said yes. That easily, we became a couple.

---

Everything was perfect in the beginning. We decided to keep our relationship a secret, with Tendō being the only exception. It was a mutual decision—we did not want unnecessary attention.

But as time went by, I noticed something.

Ushijima started hanging out with me less. I shrugged it off at first; I didn't need to be with him every moment that I was awake. But then I realized he was declining almost every invitation I made to do something with him.

When I tried to talk to him about it, he dismissed my concerns without really considering them. I went to Tendō, but his responses were vague, as if he was hiding something.

After weeks of being ignored, I followed Ushijima. What I saw shattered me.

He was standing with a girl, his hand clasping hers. She looked up at him as though he was her entire universe.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her that he was mine, that I was the one who loved him.

But I just stood there. Frozen. Watching.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I turned and left. I didn't want to believe. There had to be a reason—a reason that would not break me.

The next day, I went straight to Tendō and told him what I had seen.

As I spoke, he fidgeted more than usual and avoided eye contact.

"You knew?"

He didn't say anything, but his face spoke volumes.

He had known all along.

And he hadn't told me.

I turned and walked away. I didn't have the strength to attend practice anymore.

As I walked home, I ran into Ushijima.

As much as I wanted to slap him then and there, I forced myself to stay calm and asked if we could talk.

For once, he didn't try to find an excuse to escape me.

I asked the question that had been haunting me.

He didn't deny it. Didn't even try to explain. His face was blank, as if none of this mattered.

No apology. No remorse.

My anger exploded. I slapped him and ran home before I could get myself under control.

I cried that night until I couldn't cry any more. Fortunately, it was a Friday, so I had the whole weekend to grieve.

Tendō messaged me, but I ignored them. I blocked him later. The notifications were daggers to my heart, a reminder of his betrayal.

Soon after, I asked my parents if I could transfer schools. They agreed.

That's how I ended up going to Karasuno.

---

I was standing in front of my house when I came back to reality.

Next week, I'd have to face them again.

- 𝐊𝐒

[pancake404]

Poppy's Angel: Possibly the Scariest/Most Unknown Character in the Factory + A bit of Theories

One thing that has been on my mind lately ever since Chapter 4 was the protagonist we play as, the "Employee" that apparently everyone knows is an employee that worked here but no one knows exactly who they are.

In the eyes of the toys, the Protagonist could be one of the scariest people in the factory. Think about it, from their perspective, this unknown "employee" shows up on the side of Poppy randomly and in the same 1-2 days, kills off three Bigger Bodies(or two unless Catnap could be considered an unintentional team effort) as well as defeats a couple of other larger toys, getting them killed as well. These toys survived for the whole decade straight, doing pretty well as they were decently capable and strong and then the Player shows up and kills them. Not only that but this person, this thing, doesn't ever talk. No matter who they're conversing with, they never speak back regardless of whether it is Poppy, Dogday, or Doey. So they're like this silent executioner that survived enough to be in the Safe Haven. We then kill the Doctor, Yarnaby, and get the Omnihand which the other toys presumignly couldn't reach for years because of the Doctor.

In some complaints, I hear that there isn't an option to save certain characters like Dogday or Doey. But about those deaths as well as the deaths of other toys, the Player doesn't speak but more or less, just continues on. I see a lot of kind Player characters who want to save them but do we ever know about the intentions or thought process of the Player? No. We don't. For all we know, the Player might not care much about any toy that dies as they just continue on to find the exit. They seem willing to do Poppy's plan of blowing everything up, killing all the toys as even after Doey puts his concerns down on the table, the Player just continues with Poppy's plan(they also don’t say anything once they find Save Haven blown up). Once it backfires and Doey tweaks out, the Player kills him in self-defense yet no indication of remorseful or joyful thought. Instead, they continue on again. There is no other option and it could be solely based on the Player's character and mindset instead of being a forced tragic story(don't get me wrong, it is tragic).

That's also the thing, even when Dogday states,

"You're Poppy's Angel. Come to save us."

The Player...wasn't here to save the toys. They wanted to leave immediately and Poppy prevented them. Poppy forced them to stay and here the Player was. It also doesn't help the fact that the Player just watched Dogday die which some can argue is because it was too late to save him but it can also be argued that the Player chose not to for whatever reason(or maybe nothing could’ve been done).

If anything, I'd argue the opposite about saving the toys. The Player at this point has been killing all of them which could be stated as a mercy kill but like how the Doctor questions, are we really morally right? Don't tell me crushing, electrocution, mutilation, blending, and dropping toys fifty stories down was out of mercy. Those are some painful mercy kills. The Doctor's last line that the Player didn't save anyone is...true, no one was saved. No one had justice, they just were killed and/or disposed of like they just empty toys.

The Player might not be doing this out of the intention to save anyone as they just do what they're tasked. What they're told.

But even Poppy doesn’t seem to know the Player as well as she thinks. She doesn’t seem to know anyone as well as she thinks at this point(maybe besides Kissy). Poppy shows us the HoJ tape when there’s evidence that shows the Player already knew about it, if not contributed to it. Poppy states the Player didn’t do anything wrong which I’m saying…uh, BS. Clearly the Player’s own mind disagrees with the hallucination segments, they did something in the past as well as come here and kill off toys and are now set to kill more. Poppy talks about monsters who’ve tortured us even though there’s more evidence of us being the torturer. The Player wanted to leave, not stay here any further but they’re stopped by Poppy sabotaging the train. And at the end, Poppy very quickly doubts the Player’s involvement in planting explosives and is angry at us for killing Doey. It’s funny because the Player was casually following Poppy’s plan and was ready to just blow up the factory and everyone in it.

All of this while the Player's origins are more or less unknown as to what role they played in the factory. Unless they're P.W.(of course it's just an initial) which the evidence seems to suggest, then that means they were a biologist who worked on the Bigger Bodies. Further proven by Chapter Three where it is mentioned that the Player has guilt haunting them and that they've done something. Doctor Sawyer also wonders how Playtime Co. missed someone with this skillset which matches with the P.W. book and how they describe how no one listens to their ideas.

So far, there are a couple of theories regarding the Player's character.

One, the Player is PW:

Already explained a bit.

Would be funny since PW does describe Dogday as "boring" which is ironic given how the fandom treats him and has the "Angel" constantly save him.

From what I've seen and read, does show hints of remorse for experimentation on orphans but generally stays objective in their notes with a little bit of sass to it. It matches the Player's attitude of.... absolutely no reaction besides staring back.

Also fits the mindset of taking orders and doing what they're told to do like good employees for the company which mirrors how the Player just listens to Poppy's idea and proceeds to attempt to blow up the whole place.

Sounds reasonable.

Two, the Player is an experiment that looks almost if not perfectly human:

This sounds like a twist Mob would make.

Poppy’s line about monsters who’ve tortured the Player would make more sense in this context though that implies she knows we’re an experiment which no one hints at.

It would provide an explanation for why the Player doesn't talk as they might literally can't similar to Kissy Missy. Everyone talks to the Player like they talk to Kissy Missy.

It would also provide a reason why we're considered an employee but no one really recognizes us as well besides Miss Delight and Mommy who doesn't seem to describe much of the Player besides remembering them. Maybe, experimentation caused the Player to look a little different.

It provides canonical information on game mechanics like the Player not running out of sprint ever or surviving the last fall in Chapter Four, falling head first onto hard rock from a decent height and just getting up. Also, surviving the train crash though the Player does pull the brakes on it.

In Chapter Three, during the hallucinations, the Player takes the place of Huggy, a giant toy. The Prototype looms over them which tends to suggest his control over the other experiments.

They might also deal with memory issues as we see more and more of remembering conversations and questioning what the Player knows or doesn't know. We do know that experimentation could impact an individual's memory to a large extent.

Would be interesting to see.

The Player feels guilty about the Hour of Joy....because of their involvement in it.

Going back to the hallucination segment in Chapter Three, we take the place of Huggy Wuggy on his stand while we hear bells ring and the workers scream during the Hour of Joy. The issue with this is that the Player, according to Poppy, doesn't know about the Hour of Joy as the Player hasn't been shown the tape yet. So how can they have a clear idea about what the Hour of Joy was?

Answer: They Knew. They already knew about the Hour of Joy.

This could be what the Player had done, what drove them to stay away from the factory for a decade straight, and why they didn't show up that day.

Sort of a coincidence that the Player just didn't show up that day as well as never came to check on their MISSING COWORKERS anytime before a decade later.

The Player also is told that they should've been there on that exact date and that they missed the party and event which was the Hour of Joy. On the radio, they ask, why weren't they there? They have no right to be here.

Why would they do this? Well, the Prototype was more than capable and willing to pretend to be an ally as well as be intelligent enough to manipulate. Maybe he used the guilt of experimenting on orphans to get the Player to start the first domino to begin the Hour of Joy. In a twisted way, the Player came here for coworkers that they knew were dead because of the Player's hands.

The Doctor also mentions in a tape that Playtime Co. is filled with backstabbers and traitors so there probably was a conspirator(the Player. He also mentioned Poppy being involved so hidden involvement is put into question). Although still unclear, the Player being described as unknown to everyone could help in sneaking things through or doing something unnoticed to set up the Hour of Joy.

The Player is an ordinary worker: Unlikely, evidence seems to show the opposite.

The Player is Rich: What was Rich doing for ten years? Isn't this guy known to have a temper and is willing to argue with others. Still can be possible though I don't see it.

The Player is an orphan turned employee: You would think a couple more toys would recognize us. We would be more social with the toys that we most likely knew in the factory beforehand as the Bigger Bodies were not kept away from the children.

My personal belief is a combination of PW theory and HoJ Contributor. PW seemingly felt guilty about the experiments, the Prototype(both would be in the Labs) used this to his advantage to convince him, and PW, being decently smart yet unrecognized set it up where the Hour of Joy could happen. PW then felt guilty because he set up where a lot of his coworkers, some being possibly innocent died as well which is why they stayed out of the factory for so long. That letter must've been a bad reminder and out of their conscience, decided to come over where the game begins.

Harley Sawyer also questions if the Player lost someone they loved here which going along with this theory could either hint that someone they loved here has been experimented on and turned into an experiment(if it goes like this, watch it be the Prototype) or someone had died during the Hour of Joy...which is also bad because this theory states the HoJ was contributed by the Player.

Just a bunch of ideas and thoughts.

The Player could be an interesting character as we hardly know anything yet we have more and more clues throughout the chapter. I do believe they will be a decent bit significant in Chapter 5.

But one last thing, I don’t know if Catnap is just stuck in my head but in a way, the Player is like Catnap on the opposite side. The Player is forced into this situation by Poppy but the Player also shows a weird loyalty to Poppy considering they just do whatever they’re tasked to by her. Kill the Doctor? Got it. Kill Catnap? Sure. Blow up the factory and everyone in it? Absolutely. A lot of deaths are done brutally and the Player doesn’t speak so he’s just silently staring as it happens as I imagine Catnap does given his character, we all know about Dogday. Both are tied with religious themes like being a follower of a God or being an Angel. Also, the main chapter with the hallucinations about our past is in chapter three provided by Catnap. Just some examples.

Feel free to share any thoughts.

[mythalism]

Perhaps this will prove an unpopular opinion, but I think that, seeing as they chose to make everything hinge on the inquisitor being high approval with Solas & wanting to save him no matter what & locked his best ending behind having romanced him, so that if you wanted a satisfying ending to the series you HAD to choose to redeem him with a female Lavellan, otherwise the inquisitor's only purpose in VG is to hand you a wolf statuette...(?!?? and even that's tied to the redeem ending, lol) ANYWAY, seeing all that, I believe they should've committed even more to it and have it be an option even for non-romanced inquisitors, regardless of race, to offer to join him à la Witch Hunt where you can offer to join Morrigan through the eluvian even as a friend, only you can actually go through with it this time. Now, before I'm pelted with rotten tomatoes, I think it should've been an option just for an Inky who didn't romance anyone, so that fans could have their happy ending with their LI of choice (though I am compelled by the idea of the inquisitor as someone, like Solas, who puts their duty to the world above everything, but that's another discussion). But I think it makes sense, both as a choice made by an Inquisitor who became close friends with Solas and never lost faith in him and doesn't want him to face everything alone (could there be other Feelings involved, too? that's for us to headcanon, ofc) AND as a purely pragmatic choice, seeing Solas as someone who shouldn't be left alone to their own devices for long, esp in such a vulnerable state - just like Mythal needed his Wisdom, one could argue he needs the Inquisitor to guide him back to being Wisdom again (or maybe they just wanna nope out after failing to save the South, considering we're told repeatedly that they're the only thing holding it all from collapsing and then we find out it's all gone, yeah, I'd go into witness protection too, lmao). ALSO, I think it would slap to have a dwarven Inquisitor say that they're interested in being a part of soothing the Blight (or, at least, supervising and holding him to it) and that THAT should be his priority. Anywho, thots? Am I cooking or is there a gas leak?

i think you're cooking.

i agree that the atonement ending is the most satisfying narrative - the player stats prove that's not an unpopular opinion. more explicitly tying the inquisitor to solas narratively would have been interesting. inquisition did this soooo well with in hushed whispers specifically but also literally every quest. even the non-romanced atonement scene is so good, inky says something like "you're free to find a new purpose" instead of the "banal nadas ar lath ma vhenan" and i actually prefer that to the elven with the botched translation LOL. i also like the interpretation i've seen that the "veilguard" is really not Rook & Co. but is actually solas. he's the one that tied his life to the veil. he's the one keeping it up. he's the one guarding it. so having the inquisitor join him, especially a dalish one, whether romanced or not, and especially a dalish mage, whose job as first and eventual keeper was going to be to protect their clan from the dread wolf. protecting the whole world from the dreadwolf by helping him atone is a natural extension of that, and i think is very satisfying. i also agree it would be really interesting and meaningful for a cadash to have the option to participate in the healing of the titans dreams.

i also agree that a lot of people would get mad about this because to them it would threaten lavellan's being "special" but i dont believe in that so idc. i think its an interesting idea!!

[starzioo]

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

These are just a ton of SFW/fluff head canons! More will be added when I think of them! Feel free to drop more in the comments! <3

THEO:

➸ Knows how you're feeling just by the look in your eyes.

➸ He loves cooking you authentic Italian food.

➸ Loves holding your hand and being clingy.

➸ One of his love languages is quality time.

➸ "Cara Mia"

➸ "mio Dio, sei perfetto"

➸ He is outrageously loyal to his close circle.

➸ This might be a beige flag, but it's just a thought I had. I can just imagine Theo being the type to jump scare you every chance he gets.

➸ He doesn't like to show it, but he actually really likes hanging out with the 1st and 2nd years. Especially the ones more on the mischievous side. Mainly because they remind him of him and the group when they were that age.

➸ This man would literally worship the ground you walk on if it made you happy.

=========

TOM:

➸ Loves to slow dance with you to the oldies playing on the record player.

➸ He's protective over you.

➸ His only goal with you is marriage.

➸ He loves to kiss your hands.

➸ Doesn't use social media.

➸ He definitely calls you Mrs. Riddle, and he definitely DOES NOT mean it as a joke.

➸ This man would 100% drop everything if you brought up hanging out with him. Study group with the boys? Count Tom out because Y/n wants to see him.

➸ He loves to spend time with you even if it's just sitting in the common room reading.

=========

DRACO:

➸ Loves to spoil you no matter what, one of his love languages is gift giving.

➸ When you show him what you're wearing for the day he loves to give you a twirl.

➸ He's constantly taking pictures of you and him.

➸ Bought you a promise ring made out of your birthstone.

➸ Loves sitting by the fireplace with you more than anything.

➸ Nobody else knows this, but he plays piano. Beautifully too, but he only plays for you.

➸ Even though you don't notice, he admires every little thing you do.

=========

LORENZO:

➸ Buys you flowers back to back. He keeps one for himself so he knows when yours die.

➸ Has written you countless love letters.

➸ Remembers all the little things that you told him, no matter how minor.

➸ Loves when you play with his hair.

➸ Made you take a painting class with him.

➸ This man loves every bit of you, and he just can't get enough. Even the things you don't like about yourself.

=========

BLAISE:

➸ He loves giving you the absolute princess treatment.

➸ Loves going on dates with you no matter the cost, and he plans them.

➸ After an argument he will own up to his mistakes and actually give you a genuine apology.

➸ Is always there to help you study.

➸ He lets everyone know that you're together, but keeps the relationship private.

➸ Even in a fight no matter how serious, he will  never lose his cool with you. He has never once actually raised his voice at you.

=========

MATTHEO:

➸ Absolutely loves to show you off.

➸ You've heard from multiple people about how highly he talks about you when you're not around.

➸ "What are we doing this weekend?"

➸ "heyy beautiful"

➸ Love to run his hand through your hair.

➸ Regardless of time or place this man NEEDS to be have some kind of contact with you whether it's just holding your hand or a hand on your thigh.

➸ Before you two actually started dating he definitely had a crush on you first.

[achlysfx]

It's unfortunate to see the Dragon Age community tearing each other apart over DA4.

While I personally understand where both sides are coming from, I'm finding content creators who've been fortunate enough to play a portion of the game the rest of us have yet to see, are not handling the concerns of most gamers as well as they could be. (Let alone, BW...)

If they're on a sort of council and under NDAs, they should be acting with professionalism at all times. Being disrespectful or borderline rude to comments they don't like is never a good sign.

It all comes down to Bioware's poor marketing surrounding Veilguard. We keep being told that the game is amazing and to take everyone's word for it, yet I genuinely have to ask - how can we?

If we look at the marketing for the prior games, or Inquisition alone, we got story teasers, gameplay combat, and proper mood/tone...and later, character trailers. Of course, a lot of players didn't like Inquisition before it launched and it ended up being a hit.

However, one person's exitement after having the privilege to play an unreleased version of DA4 is a biased view, and while I share in these influencers excitement, I believe they should also remind themselves that most gamers who are a fan of the franchise do have a right to be critical without receiving hurtful comments as a response.

We've ALL been waiting 10 years for this and with poor marketing, negative sentiment is unavoidable.

[I've seen far too many YouTube vids & comments stating the rest of the community are 'fake DA fans' simply because a lot of longtime gamers got upset over the new trailers and news that have shown nothing aside from romance & CC options. Even I'll admit that this has been an odd experience.]

On the other hand, if longtime gamers aren't allowed to express concern based off of what we've been shown so far, how is it right for influencers or those part of this new(er) community council to get upset when gamers won't throw caution to the wind and blindly take their biased (yet excited) word that DA4 will be amazing? 😅

I don't share this to downplay anyone's views on the game's status so far, but seeing more YouTube videos arise by claiming that fans who've been playing the series over a long period of time are no longer considered 'true fans' because they have concerns, doesn't help anyone.

Yes, there's going to be hateful people from both sides who will troll comments, but watching content creators getting defensive in the comments section of their own videos/posts regardless of how others act, is not professional and simply will not help support their cause of anticipation for the game.

Personally, I understand the stress under an NDA, and I've run online gaming communities a lot longer than most (current) influencers, but the key is to welcome all forms of discussion, not oppress those with concerns or different views. Yes, it can be tiresome, but if you've been placed in a position higher than the average gamer, there's still a level or responsibility in professionalism that must be maintained.

I believe most content creators have forgotten that under their frustrations surrounding Veilguard's fans. I ask that everyone respect each other, because everyone will form their own opinions regardless of whether or not someone else got a sneak peak. 💜

[Forever remaining cautiously optimistic about this long wait.]

[strawberryj0y]

Find it really interesting that Sae's response to Shidou fighting Sendou again doesn't involve having a word with Shidou and possibly getting him to tone it down a little. The possibility of reprimanding him never even comes up as a suggestion. Which I think is what Oliver might've been hoping for; "You brought this violent guy here, pls reason with him to stop slamming our star player's head into tables, since if it's you, he might actually listen..."

He certainly doesn't lack any audacity. I mean, in this very scene, he's telling the captain of the U20 team to cut his 'trash ace' from the team in favour of this violent unknown player Sae handpicked and is now causing them problems. Whether it's the entire team, the captain, the manager, or the chairman of the JFU, Sae will always have the audacity.

After Barou's goal equalised the score during U20, we even see Sae strolling over to the manager, nonchalantly sipping away at his water, demanding answers. Which has the guy, who's role is literally to be the one calling the shots in the game, jumbling his words under sae's merciless scrutiny. He doesn't even let the man finish, before putting his plan down completely and begin coaching him on what the next move is (rightfully so) jhdsgfsjhgfj

So no matter who it is, Itoshi Sae will always have the audacity.

This is also an example of Sae taking matters into his own hands when he sees problems arising that would interfere with his own plans, swiftly cutting out anyone else's ideas if they get in the way.

As much as Sae probably thought Sendou deserved that behaviour from Shidou (lmao), it's still a lot for one player to slam another one's head into a table and have another fight occur shortly after to the point where the captain is having to step in and take it up with Sae. Despite what the JFU promised him and all that the organisation is willing to overlook for the Itoshi Sae to play in the game, violent conduct could land Shidou in genuine trouble (for example, later in this scene when Aiku mentions the U20 players threatening to boycott the match) and have him removed from the match (which does ultimately occur). It's not some massive issue to Sae, but it would mean his initial plan of playing with an egoist like Shidou and testing Blue Lock the way he wanted to would be in jeopardy, inconveniencing him, which would probably piss him off a little.

As I said earlier, from his attitude alone we can gather that if anyone causes him even the slightest trouble, preventing him from getting what he wants, they will be verbally and spiritually hauled to hell and back...but that never seems to be an option with Shidou. He really just lets him do whatever he wants LMAO which, to be clear, Shidou is a character who always does what he wants anyway, regardless of any pushback from anyone, but this is moreso me pointing out Sae constantly choosing not to* c:

*(i always want to clarify this since sometimes ppl can get the wrong idea about their dynamic - eventhough shidou does listen to and follow sae's lead, it's not like he mindlessly follows orders! shidou's freedom is never hindered. more on this below)

Ofc Sae also really understands Shidou, and is therefore well aware that he wouldn't take to being told what to do/scolded, at all. But if he really wanted to, he could've said something. Pulled Shidou aside and explained it logically and presented it in a new perspective to him. Which is something we know he's capable of when Shidou was about to foul Niko and potentially get red-carded:

And Shidou listens. So Sae does know the correct approach to get his demon to tone the violence down, yet he doesn't even consider it as an option during the conversation with Aiku...

This just shows he has zero problems with Shidou being wild. Just doesn't even consider it as any sort of flaw. He'll only intervene when it's about to tip into actual disaster (i.e. getting red-carded; with Aiku's bet situation, Shidou was just benched until further notice, realistically still able to join if called to, but if he'd fouled Niko, he'd be permanantly removed, taking any chances of the U20 team winning and this being any sort of worthwhile endeavour for Sae along with him).

It all comes down to the fact Sae genuinely likes and respects this guy for who he is, demon and all. I posted all my thoughts about this here.

I know one of the core messages of this arc, repeated over and over, is that Itoshi Sae is the only one in the world who can handle an egoist like Shidou Ryusei - but that's precisely because Sae is not his handler. It's exactly as Shidou says in his starry-eyed speech/love confession; Sae is the first person to understand his freedom.

We see it play out as Shidou comes to this realisation too. Sae takes the breaks off of Shidou's imagination, gently guiding his inspiration to the most explosive route, reassuring him that whatever play he sees in his wildest dreams, Sae will make it come true. It melts away Shidou's initially resistant exterior, his eyes soften and he grins from ear-to-ear because he's picked up on exactly what's happening. He can sense the explosion ahead, feels himself treading the path to freedom masterfully crafted by the genius who just gets him. Gets him so much that now his heart is pounding and he feels like Cinderella LMAO

Sae broadens Shidou's view of the sky, removes all obstructions, and as a result Shidou literally flies. Scores two back-to-back goals, mid-air. The first one had both their egos burning!!! Then the second one even had Sae shocked at just how far Shidou can go, just how high he can fly!

In conclusion, RyuSae is peak.

[kageyahma]

the timing of kageyama's backstory reveal: need, acceptance, and compassion

kageyama's late backstory reveal not only services the recontextualization of the whole story and reinforcing kageyama's deuteragonist role, but it also holds so much power in haikyuu's themes of growth particularly in that it is revealed during his adulthood.

specifically: why does it hold so much power in its timeskip reveal? let's consider why it wouldn't have hit as hard and as meaningful as it did if it was revealed, say, during nationals

the backstory as a device to communicate TO the audience: we understand kageyama's whole mindset throughout the series through his lens rather than just hinata's. there are little pieces of his past that gain a new layer of meaning: his commitment to self care, his love of curry and being a setter, his desire for someone to Be There for him, to hold hinata to a Better standard.

kageyama as an audience stand-in, encouraging reflection WITH the audience: it's just like growing older and understanding how your youth was shaped as a whole - a reflection on kageyama's part that all these people he dreamed of playing with for years are all here and have been there since high school. it's a prompt helping identify those moments that shaped you and made you who you are. that's the power in being revealed in his adulthood when these things especially tend to become clear.

a complete story is told even without kageyama's backstory, without the backstories of everyone else playing in the adlers msby game. However, the addition of everyone's stories isn't meant to serve as a completeness, but to reflect on how the story and everyone's lives are enriched by seeing other people with them. going through them one by one between each player ties in the thread of connection running through all of haikyuu before its ultimate conclusion.

so let's think back to the specific moments when karasuno is reforming, and after kageyama returns from the youth camp. both are key moments where kageyama struggles to communicate and understand his own reactions, and his team accepts him regardless and helps him through it. never do they press the idea "why are you like this, what's your problem", never do they try to accuse outside of what is happening in the moment, because that's not what's important. karasuno reflects on his experiences at seijoh, they reflect on the environment he was in during the youth camp, and help him through that. they never dismiss him, they approach his behaviour with curiousity and constructvely.

they don't need to know about his grandfather's recent passing to do this. if there's one thing haikyuu knows to express, it's that everyone is going through something and these connections can help process that with direct or indirect support. they don't NEED to know the full story, and neither do we as the audience to sympathize with him. the story never tells us "he's acting out about his role as a setter at kitagawa daiichi because his grandfather passed away". the backstory comes after years of the team and of us knowing and growing with kageyama. the backstory is not treated as some logical solution to a problem at hand, but rather like a bonus layer which serves to enrich the story in ways that go above and beyond.

back to chapter 388 itself: this is just something kageyama is reflecting on in the middle of a game. as it returns to the present we see everyone else in game mode, we see them smiling through kageyama's eyes and we see him smiling back. he's looking back with peace and joy and celebration as we as readers are looking back and celebrating the story as a whole in its final arc.

on a personal standpoint: what i believe it tells us is that people don't NEED to know and understand every nook and cranny of your emotions and history to help you, and neither do you. the current moment and potential can count for everything and growth happens whether you realize it or not. what withholding his backstory tells us is that just as karasuno accepted kageyama as he was, it is a compassionate reminder that people who care about you are very capable of acceptance as you are. the thing about love (in which i strongly include friendship) is that it's an avenue for constant discovery and new understandings both inside and out.

[happilysmythe]

hey queen!

you already know what I’m here to request!

could we get some Freddy x photographer action plssss;)

- ❤️ ky

hi queenie!

guys i'm back [proud]. who cheered?

i had the worst writer's block you could imagine and school was kicking my ass.

anyway, i started writing this back in june and i finally finished it tonight, so i hope this is still up to par with the rest of my stories :)

WARNING: smut under the cut!!

- - -

he was a forbidden fruit, and she was eve.

Ah, Sunrise, Florida.

The perfect destination spot for a relaxing vacation. Lots of retirees, warm weather, beautiful scenery—what more could anyone ask for? 

Of course, to your crowd, it was the home of the Florida Panthers. And you were there on a business trip. But unlike most professions that required a trip, being a sports photographer allowed for tons of leisure when traveling.

It was a beautiful night—a crisp 65 degrees in the middle of February, unlike Boston’s whopping 30. You finally had the chance to sit down after the game—not before taking a shower, of course—and had to go through the extensive process of sifting through your photos to determine which would be published. One unique aspect of that process was that you often liked to hear the players' opinions. They were your acquaintances, some even your close friends, and it gave more perspective to your work when the subjects helped publicize it.

So you frequently had the guys moving in and out of your workspaces—whether it be an office at Warrior or the varying hotel rooms across the country—huddling over your computer screen as you showcased and picked through your work.

You plopped down into the desk chair in the corner of the small hotel room and opened up your laptop, pushing the chair in and setting up the space as the screen booted up. You leisurely scrolled through the photos you snapped a few hours earlier, sipping on a late-night refresher and deleting the duds.

Trent Frederic, the feisty 26-year-old forward, dumped the puck in the net twice that particular night. It was safe to say that he was the subject of numerous pictures.

Not that you'd complain, of course.

A telling grin pricked at the corners of your lips when you saw them. Alright, maybe it was slightly unprofessional to look at them that way. You knew that. But what was wrong with having a little bit of a work crush, for lack of a better term? Nothing, as long as you didn’t treat him differently or act on anything. Hell, if you were being honest, at least 80 percent of that team was good-looking—so there was nothing to worry about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to be able to sleep at night.

Regardless, you’d have to set aside whatever it was because you had pictures to sift through. And with your hands-on way of doing things, he’d be in that very hotel room within the next ten minutes.

in my room looking through pics. stop by and run through them?

You quickly shot him the text and sat back, awaiting his response. You had a system in place—they would have ten minutes to reply, and if they didn't, you would move on to the next or go to sleep yourself. They knew not to show up past the mark.

Then, your phone dinged.

Be there in 5

So you waited again, taking the time to prepare yourself (as you usually did). Although you wouldn’t admit it, you took a few extra seconds to dial in when it was him. And this time? Well, you’d need it. All of those pictures didn’t take themselves.

Especially the one that had been open on your screen for much longer than necessary.

The knock on the door interrupted your witless staring and you quickly minimized your screen. You took a breath and stood up. Opening the door revealed Trent standing behind it, curls still damp from his post-game shower and white shirt hugging his upper body. You swallowed, no doubt offset by the sight, and promptly cleared your throat to disrupt the silence.

“Hey, Fred,” you put on a smile. “Come on in.”

He calmly followed you over to the desk, eyes roaming around the room before focusing back on you—now sitting back in the chair as you were before. “Is there another chair?” he finally spoke.

“Oh, shit. I don’t think so,” you answered, lips flattening into a line. “Here, uh.” You stood up and looked around—there was no good substitute, and likely no room for two people at the desk. “Let’s just sit on the bed instead. More room, anyway.”

“Alright.”

Thankfully, he helped move your computer to the bed and keep the camera on the desk, which sped up the process and made it less stressful. With the laptop at the foot of the bed, you both rested flat on your stomachs. You left some space between, but you were still apprehensive about his proximity. You couldn’t help but feel like a teenage girl with a crush at school.

“So,” you finally began, scrolling through, “there were a lot of throwaways. Just borderline unpublishable.”

He laughed, “As usual.”

“But I think some of the best ones were from the first goal,” you maximized the size to see the array of photos from the goal. “This one,” your cursor hovered above, “—you were in the corner with the celebration. That’s pretty good.” You focused on another, moving the cursor over to it. “Celly line. You had your leg popped. Might be cool for the socials.”

“And in this one, you had Pat there in the hug,” you pointed to another. “He’s become a good fan-favorite, so that could work,” you clarified.

He nodded, listening to your ample breakdown of each shot you decided not to delete before he came. “What’s that one?” his finger pointed.

To your unpleasant surprise, the image was all too familiar. It was the one you stared down earlier until he knocked on the door.

It was between whistles. Late in the second—not that it mattered. He was conversing at the face-off dot and waiting to get into position. From your angle, it seemed as if he were laughing—likely at something a teammate said—and your finger snapped the picture almost subconsciously from the sight of his smile. At that moment, it was nothing—but having him beside you brought forth your underlying embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s just,” you hesitantly clicked on it, “—I took it in between whistles.” You swallowed, discreetly side-eyeing him and trying to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

“Thought it would be cool for one of those ‘post-game smiles’ posts,” you lied. “Sometimes they post ‘em on Twitter and Instagram. They get good traction from the fans,” you began to ramble.

You almost made it through without slipping up.

“—And you looked cute.”

Almost.

He turned to face you. “Looked cute, eh?”

You looked back over. Of course, he was grinning—he was…sort of arrogant sometimes. Not in a way that made him an asshole—you found him to be one of the friendliest on the team—but sometimes, you could just…feel the cockiness radiating off of him. Truthfully, it might have only been when he was with you because you were poor at hiding things.

“Yeah? You know, for the pictures.”

“You lying?”

Silence.

Your focus shifted back and forth between his eyes. Then around the room and back to his face. Your eyes flitted down to his stretched lips and back up, studying his features, hoping to find some sort of belief in his expression. You already knew you were fucked.

But for some reason, you weren’t feeling so rattled anymore.

“Yeah,” was what you decided on.

His eyes narrowed and you felt him drawing closer. The heat from his body radiated onto yours. In a similar manner to yours, his eyes moved down and trailed back up. 

“You’re not slick, you know,” he whispered, lips slightly upturned.

“Never claimed to be,” you retorted. You were moving closer—leaning forward as if your body were in control instead of your head, and maybe it was. Warm breath fanned your lips, his white teeth peeking out, and intruding thoughts of grazing your tongue along them disrupted your already-faltering composure.

“And maybe I wasn’t trying to be.”

His lips finally linked with yours, together moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. He wrapped an arm around your waist and settled his palm in the small of your back, allowing him to effortlessly pull you into his body—turning you on your side in the process. His other arm reached outward and closed the screen of your laptop. The faint thud as it dropped to the floor caused your body to jolt and he tugged you closer.

When you asked him to come down to your room, you didn’t intend to have his tongue in your mouth. But sometimes that’s just how the cards fall, right?

Your fingers weaved into his dark red curls, still damp from his post-game shower. And you couldn’t resist sliding the other hand under his white t-shirt to feel the warm skin beneath it, trailing upward to the chain you knew was concealed by the cotton material; you were present the morning his compression shirt was ripped at the chest and it never quite went unnoticed after that. 

Trent’s hands tenaciously gripped your sides and pulled you on top of him. He rolled onto his back, head at the foot of the bed and hair dangling over the edge. You were then sitting in his lap, his hands keeping you grounded, and although it was wrong—and so jeopardizing to your job—it felt so right to give in to the insatiable need for him that you’d been harboring for far too long.

Contrary to your own beliefs, you were rather good at hiding your attraction to him. He and you had been good friends—similarly to the rest of the team—and he shockingly wasn’t aware of how you felt until you gave yourself away just moments ago. His earlier accusation, in his mind, was baseless.

You bent down and captured his lips in another kiss, tongue slipping past them again as his fingers pressed into your hips. His hands slid under the thin t-shirt you often wore to bed and began to lift it. It remained bunched up at your chest until you lifted your arms and the fabric was no longer on your body, but instead discarded to the floor. A faint hum of approval left his mouth at the sight of your bare torso—of course, you hadn’t worn a bra to bed—and without a second thought his arms crossed over one another and peeled his shirt off his body.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he hummed, fingers tracing the waistband of your pajama shorts, eyes drinking in the sight of your body and committing each inch of it to memory.

“I know,” you finally responded softly. “But we’ve already gotten this far.”

Nothing’s wrong with having a dirty little secret, right?

So that’s what you mutually agreed on—it was going to stay a secret. And it was going to be a one-time affair.

Even when he so easily had you wrapped around his finger. Even when you found yourself molded perfectly in his lap like your legs were tailor-made to wrap around his figure. Even when the last remnants of your clothing were removed and the length of his fingers, slick with your arousal, pushed into your core and brought you to your first release.

Even when his fingers were coated in white, it was going to stay a secret.

“Fuck, Trent,” the words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra. It was the first time you'd ever called him by his first name. And it was only ironic that it was through a moan. Your legs trembled and your palms rested flat on his toned stomach. Had you not kept them there for support, you likely wouldn’t have been able to keep yourself up.

With one hand on your hip and the other rising to his lips to clean its fingers with his tongue, Trent felt himself straining beneath you. It was the warmth of your body; your hips that were grinding in his lap just moments ago. If he wasn’t inside you in the next five minutes, he was sure he wouldn’t see the light of day again. And you could feel it, too. So you leaned back and reached for the drawer in the nightstand.

“What,” he half-whispered as he looked over, “what are you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, your hand popped up with a small box—still sealed—between your fingers. “Someone left this here,” you stated before frantically ripping it open and taking out a condom. 

Trent wasted no time forcing his sweatpants down his legs. He couldn’t be bothered to take them off fully.

Dainty fingers tore the foil open and tossed it to the floor before slipping the rubber on him. The moment he was sure it was secure, the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and lifted you.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in a haze, because you barely remembered anything before you were back in his lap with him buried to the hilt. The sting of him stretching you out lasted only for a moment, yet your hands were already grasping at anything they could find; his chest, his biceps, his sides—anything. Your head lulled back and your mouth hung open. Meanwhile, he was holding on by a thread. He made every possible attempt not to focus on how fucking tight you were.

“Jesus Christ,” he finally vocalized, pressing his fingers firmly into your sides. He used his remaining strength to drag you down, leaving you chest-to-chest. Your trembling hands slipped around his neck and found purchase at the nape. Trent took this as his cue and began to move your hips. He gauged what you could take and set the pace.

He felt good. Really good.

In a way that made you aware of all of your senses. The feeling of skin touching skin. The taste of him as his tongue rolled over yours. The sound of his breaths occasionally coming out as a groan. The sight of his tensed-up face, and the smell of his after-shave wafting in the air around you.

As your consciousness slowly came back, you were able to take control of your movements. Your fingertips skimmed his arms and wrapped around his biceps, holding them for stability. It was in a moment like this that you were thankful he played hockey. It was like his body was made for it—his perfectly sculpted muscles, the warmth he radiated, the sheer thickness of his figure—and it was only natural that he could envelop you entirely with his presence.

He was everything you could’ve imagined. And although it would only—could only—be for one night, he was so attentive, as if you were so much more to him than that. And perhaps you were, but all you could be was nothing more than a photographer; his inferior.

Regardless of how much you both wanted that to change.

“Trent,” his name descended from your lips in a whisper. To your surprise, his hands glided up to your cheeks and held them in what could only be described as an intimate gesture. Before he could second-guess it, you pressed your forehead to his, fingertips pushing firmly into the flesh of his arms as your hips rolled in his lap.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you felt the tension in your stomach. The same tension that made you tighten around his fingers earlier, only this time it was around him. And he could feel it.

His thumbs grazed your cheeks as he pulled you into him, and suddenly he was kissing you again. You could only be thankful for the gesture afterward, recognizing that he was absorbing the sound of your moans as you felt the coil in your stomach snap. Pleasure ripped through you in an exhilarating wave, and the mere sight and sound were enough to pull him over the edge with you.

The intensity forced your body to fall limp atop his. With his remaining strength—which was astoundingly little—his arms wrapped around your midsection and kept you in place. And in response, you found yourself nestling your face into his neck as if you were used to this. Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment (and likely not so), but he didn’t seem to protest it.

Trent finally broke the silence with a quiet sigh. His thumb rubbed your back in little circles, steadying your breaths and soothing your nerves. “You okay?” he half-whispered, and you nodded slowly in response.

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he carefully sat upright and brought you up with him. His arms remained enveloped around you to keep you stable, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Am I staying here or leaving?”

It was a simple question. Of course, you wanted him to, but your mind was hazed with what-ifs. What if someone caught him leaving the next morning? What if someone had already heard, and this would only dig you into a deeper hole? But letting him sleep with you? It would be anything but casual. So you took a beat to think about it and gave him your answer.

“Staying.”

You’d deal with the repercussions in the morning. After all, everything was still surreal to you. For so long, that stupid little crush was controlling your life. You hoped this would put it to rest and give it some closure. Just one night to get him out of your system.

What you hadn't known was that that “one night” would continue to control your life, because you’d unknowingly be spending the rest of it with him.

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 27: RESIGNATION

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

One week later

One week passed, and you finally left the hospital after missing work and school, putting you behind with the curriculum.

During this time, Emma was looking after you, calling in sick from work herself and even Nina visited you twice, once with Connie and once with Cillian, who politely waited outside.

Seeing him still bothered you, and you were not over the fact that he had slept with his assistant, who, you knew, had it out for him, and this did not make it easy on you. You were disgusted by the sheer thought of it, him pleasuring her the way he pleasured you.

You felt disgusted, and you wondered whether he enjoyed it. Did he want her? Was she better than you in bed? She was older, sure. But was she more experienced? The answer was probably yes.

After telling Emma about these thoughts, she told you to try and forget about him. Being an actor probably made him a player, and you may have dodged a bullet when he broke up with you.

“He is not worth your tears,” she reminded you before embracing you. She had been your best friend for life, and you knew she was probably right.

You had to forget about Cillian, regardless of how hard it was or how much you were still in love with him. He was twice your age as well, and he was famous, both matters which could create much trouble for you in the future.

***

While trying to forget about Cillian, you spent most of the weekend catching up on reading the play Enda Walsh had given you to prepare for, and this play, too, reminded you of Cillian.

It was one of his own, called Disco Pigs, and you knew that this was Cillian’s first ever on-stage performance after he had dropped out of law school when he was just 19 years old.

“Christ, why?” you cursed as you put the book aside for the night, and Emma, again, reminded you that this, too, would pass.

“Try not to think of him”, she told you, but this was easier said than done as you missed him a lot and wondered whether he missed you too.

***

After a while, you got some sleep, and then, the following day, you went to school early to address your dispute with James.

James, however, tried to avoid you, and it wasn’t until you asked him whether two could talk that he pulled you aside, and you had the chance to confront him.

“Save it. I won’t say anything to anyone,” James told you before you could say anything yourself. He was squirming, and his reaction surprised you.

“Great, but why the change of mind?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Your boyfriend’s lawyer sent me a letter, but I am sure you already know that,” he told you, causing you to grin.

“No…well yes…maybe I did” You smirked while James shook his head in disbelief and told you he was embarrassed for you.

“I did see the article in the Irish Times, though,” James thus pointed out, explaining that your lover was a player, and you simply fell for his charm like a silly young girl.

“We aren’t together, James,” you felt the need to point out, but James simply shrugged it off and disappeared into the crowds. He no longer cared, and you found out later that day that he was seeing an old friend of yours.

***

Following your day at drama school, you finally went to dance school to teach the evening class. A new teacher had run the course in your absence, but you knew you could still supervise your students and review their routines even though you were not allowed to perform. You had not healed yet and were instructed to wait at least two weeks before resuming any exercise.

When you arrived at the facility, you were asked to see your employer immediately and wondered what this was all about.

You did not think that you had done anything wrong but had a bad feeling in the pits of your stomach as soon as you walked into his office.

Your employer had a stern look and asked you to sit down. A small manila folder was sitting on his desk, staring at you, and you could not help but ask whether you were in trouble.

“For a matter of fact, you are,” your boss said, and your chin dropped while anxiety filled your mind.

“What did I do?” you asked, thinking that it was because you were absent for the past week.

“It came to our attention that you had an intimate relationship with one of our student’s parents,” your employer exclaimed, and you inhaled sharply. Sweat was now building up on your forehead, and your hands started to fidget nervously. You did not know how to respond, and there was silence for a long minute.

“Of course, you have nothing to say to this, do you?” your employer asked, and you told him quickly that you regretted your intimate relationship with the student’s father.

“The problem is two-fold, Miss Y/LN. Firstly, Mr Murphy has a certain standing in the community, being an actor subject to much publicity. Secondly, he is not divorced yet, and we are, as you know, an institution funded by the Catholic Church,” your employer lectured you, seeing that the academy was attached to one of the best schools in Dublin, which, of course, being in Ireland, happened to be catholic.

“I understand, and I can guarantee you that this affair was short-lived”, you reassured your employer, who handed you a three-page document entitled “Non-Disclosure Agreement”.

“That may be the case; however, we have already found a replacement teacher for you, and your services here will no longer be needed,” your boss told you, to which you shook your head.

“You can’t just fire me,” you told him, but he begged to differ.

“I can because your intimate relationship with Mr Murphy constitutes misconduct in the workplace. But, I would much rather ask you to voluntarily resign and sign this agreement which will entitle you to redundancy pay of six weeks’ worth of wages,” your boss told you while handing you a ballpoint pen.

For a minute, you considered telling him to get lost. Still, then you read the agreement, which prevented you from speaking to the press about your relationship with Cillian and prevented him from doing the same. In addition, your employer could not issue you with a bad reference because of it, which you knew he would do if you did not sign and voluntarily walked away from your job. 

“You see, Miss Y/LN, neither us nor Mr Murphy has any interest in making this public,” your employer told you as you considered your options, taking your time.

“You have spoken to him?” you asked, surprised. You did not expect Cillian to take likely to such a threat.

“No, but I have spoken to his assistant about it, and she concurred”, your boss informed you, causing you to laugh.

“Of course, she concurred”, you chuckled before putting pen to taper. You knew you had no choice, and, at least this way, you were getting paid.

After signing the agreement, you packed up your things and left, tears streaming down your face. You loved teaching these excellent students you had, and now, all of this was coming to an end.

You were not even given a chance to say goodbye to your students, and, just as your boss’s secretary saw you out the door, some of the parents stared at you, being escorted out of the building like some criminal.

You wondered who did this to you, and, in the end, it did not matter. Your short-lived fling with Cillian slowly destroyed your life, and you regretted every moment.

It was your fault. Getting involved with him was wrong; now, you must face the consequences.

***

Unfortunately, you were not the only one to suffer from this, and just as the class commenced without you, the parents began to gossip while their children started to listen.

According to one of the mothers, she had been told by your employer’s secretary that you were fired because you slept with one of the parents.

“He is married too,” she whispered, causing Cillian’s wife, Lorraine, to chuckle.

“How typical of these young women. She is probably after money,” Danielle whispered without knowing who it was you had slept with.

Only Connie decided not to engage in the conversation, telling the others that she did not like to spread unsubstantiated rumours, and it was then that Danielle tried to catch her out.

“It may have been Dermont”, she teased, causing Connie to laugh.

“Uhm, if my husband could land the girls’ dance teacher, I would even go so far as to congratulate him on his achievement, but no, it is not Dermont. I am sure of it,” Connie chuckled, seeing that Danielle was trying to get under her skin.

“Maybe it was Cillian?” another one of the mothers then said, now teasing Danielle, who, too, began to laugh and brushed it off.

“Doubtful. My soon-to-be ex-husband is shagging his assistant, just as I had suspected all those years. Also, this rag of a dance teacher is not his type,” Danielle spat, and it was obvious to the other women who were present that she was still somewhat upset that her husband had moved on with his assistant.

“I suppose we will never find out, so how about we just leave it at that,” Connie said as she began to notice the children listening in; even though Nina was not nearby, she did not want this kind of gossip to be spread amongst the students.

***

Following a rather eventful and unpleasant evening at the dance academy, Nina threw her bag and shoes into the boot of her mother’s car, and it was apparent to Danielle that her daughter was angry and confused.

Danielle knew that Nina liked you and, with that in mind, tried to comfort her in the best possible way.

“It’s all right; you will get used to having someone else teach you. I know you liked Y/N, but she resigned, so there is not much you can do about it,” Danielle explained as they got into the car and drove to Cillian’s house, where Nina would stay for the next three nights.

“She did not resign. She got fired,” Nina pointed out angrily while playing around on her phone and texting you to see whether you were all right. After turning fourteen, she had recently joined Instagram and Facebook and added you as a friend across these platforms, occasionally sharing links with you to dance performances she liked.

“What makes you say that?” Danielle wondered before asking Nina to look at her and get off her phone.

“Oh god, Mum, I am not stupid. I heard the gossip,” Nina told her mother, who was worried about what she may have heard.

“So you know what happened?” she thus asked, gauging the situation.

“Yes, I know what happened, but I don’t know why,” Nina told her mother before accusing her of being the culprit. “Did you tell the academy? Because it seems like something you would do to get back at Dad. It’s just like the stupid court orders he had to get to see me,” Nina spat, telling her mother how upset she had been with these events.

“What are you talking about?” Danielle asked as she pulled the car over in shock.

“What I am talking about is that you did not like the fact that Dad was dating Y/N, so you had her fired. Because all you care about is yourself,” Nina accused, causing her mother’s chin to drop.

“Your dad was dating your dance teacher?” she asked, and Nina quickly realised she screwed up. Her mother did not know, causing Nina to curse and cover her mouth with her hands.