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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

could you possibly write something about Sirius & remus dating and remus feeling bad that Sirius keeps paying (since obviously he's big deal NHLer v trainer)

Oof, yes. This was combined with asks for some Coops hurt/comfort where one doesn't want to talk, as well as an argument. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for wealth insecurity, small argument (not a blowout)

Grocery shopping had never been Remus’ favorite thing in the world, but he had to admit it was a lot more fun when everything came with the thrilling reminder that he was living with the love of his life. He got to learn Sirius’ preferences on everything from candles (softer scents, or something woodsy) to towels (as fluffy as humanly possible) and filed every detail away in the little pocket of his brain entirely dedicated to the beautiful man that could reach the top shelves.

“What’s next?” he asked an hour into their latest Target excursion.

Sirius tilted his phone to show the screen. “Sheets.”

“I still can’t believe you had a hole in those and didn’t notice,” Remus said with a shake of his head.

“How do you know it wasn’t your fault?” Sirius countered with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“I’m not the one that runs marathons in my sleep,” Remus laughed, standing on his toes to kiss his stubbly cheek. “Oof. Prickly.”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “You like it.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” he mimicked, bumping Remus’ hip with his own. “What kind do you want?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder as they turned down the next aisle, scanning the shelves of plastic-wrapped packages in a million different patterns. “I like the look of the white ones, but grey or blue could be nice. You?”

“As long as they’re soft and have you in them, I don’t care.”

“Sap,” he teased, though he was unable to fight the blush racing hot up his neck. Sirius didn’t protest; his small, smug smile needed no explanation. Remus pushed the cart slowly down the aisle, making note of the price tags as he went. Sheets were always an expense—not as bad as blankets or, god forbid, a new mattress, but an expense all the same. He had managed to keep his last ones in good condition for almost ten years before they wore out.

The $30 set doesn’t look too bad, but that’s a weird color…Sirius hates microfiber…I’d rather not sleep on puppy print…getting laid on a 1970s paisley pattern would kill me instantly… “How about these?”

He startled and glanced down the aisle, where Sirius was holding a set in faint gray. An unbidden grin pulled at the side of his mouth. “The softest of the bunch, huh?”

“Of course,” Sirius laughed. “Come feel, it’s like heaven.”

Remus pushed off and hopped up on the undercarriage, riding the cart all the way until he reached Sirius’ side; his hand was halfway to the exposed block of fabric when he froze. $186.99, read the price tag below the stack of sheets in varying colors. Almost $200, and the only difference was the softness. “I…” he faltered slightly, looking between Sirius and the sheets for a moment.

“Do you not like them?”

“No, I do,” Remus said as his mind whirred. He had never spent more than a hundred dollars on sheets before. It wasn’t wildly out his budget, especially once he started working with the Lions, but he had always been careful with money. Sirius…Sirius had never had to do that. Never in his life.

“Is it the color? Because they have white ones—”

“It’s 200 dollars,” he almost laughed. Sirius fell quiet in obvious confusion as Remus turned to look at him. “Sirius, those sheets are 200 dollars.”

“Yes?”

“There’s—” Remus broke off again; something a little too much like shame for his liking crawled up his throat. “I—sure, yeah, if you like them.”

“It’s not about what Ilike,” Sirius continued, as if he couldn’t see the discomfort tensing every one of Remus’ muscles. “It’s our bed. I don’t want to get sheets you hate.”

“No, no, they’re nice.” Too nice. Remus forced a smile. “I like them.”

Sirius looked at him for a moment. “Which ones do you prefer?”

The ones that don’t cost the same as my monthly food budget. “Uh, the color threw me off at first,” he said. “The blue ones are better.”

The crease between Sirius’ brows eased by a degree and he kissed Remus’ jaw gently, then switched the sets. “D’accord, mon loup. Whatever makes you happy.”

Remus was as quiet as he could be without arousing suspicion for the rest of the trip. Sirius paid for their things—like always, Remus realized with a turn of his stomach—and helped him carry the bags to the car without another word about the sheets.

He stayed quiet the whole way home.

The shame mounted as they drove. It seemed everything was a sudden, unwelcome reminder of just how different he and Sirius were. Sirius’ family had a chef during his childhood—Remus made himself PB&Js every morning for the entirety of middle school. Sirius had a brand-new car—Remus had never had cause to justify that over public transportation and Uber. It was embarrassing, and Sirius’ unintentional thoughtlessness was more frustrating than he thought it would be.

He didn’t say anything as they pulled up to the house and unloaded their shopping bags; his shirt and jeans itched his skin like sandpaper. Judging from the look on Sirius’ face, he had picked up on Remus’ frustration, but there was no way Remus was going to get into the root of it while he still felt so twitchy.

Damn you and your emotional intelligence, he thought as he slipped past Sirius’ worried glances and up the stairs to their bedroom. Be oblivious for once and let me get through this.

The bed was stripped bare—their duvet and pillows sat in a heap on top of the mattress. Remus thought back to the first night he had slept there, marveling at the cloudlike support on his achy lower back. He had chalked it up to the pure bliss that came with finally having what he really wanted, but his traitorous brain was starting to convince him it wasn’t the joy that made it seem so nice.

He had never gone without food. His parents always made sure he had clothes that mostly fit and the school supplies he needed. They paid for his hockey gear and the team dues until he was old enough to work part-time and start saving his own money; scholarships had always been of a quiet importance in their house. Things got tighter when Jules was born, but they made it work. Remus would always be grateful for that.

Sirius had never had to think about money in that way. Not once.

Remus sighed through his nose as he pulled his battered Wisconsin hoodie over his head and tightened the drawstring of his sweats, letting the comfort envelop him. “It’s not his fault,” he murmured into the mirror. “Don’t get into your head about this.”

Sirius was in the living room when Remus made his way down the stairs with his hands curled into the worn sleeves of the hoodie. He said nothing while Remus began absently cleaning up the scattered items around their junk bowl, though his gaze prickled the back of his neck.

“Mon loup?” came the soft question after two minutes of tense silence.

“Yeah?” he managed around the tightness in his lungs.

He could practically taste Sirius’ hesitation. “Did I—nevermind. Sorry.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” Sirius said again, though he seemed to be folding in on himself. Remus hated seeing him try and take up less space, and hated the idea that he was the one that caused it.

$200. On sheets.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked, leaning back against the countertop.

“No, I just—” Sirius pasted on a smile and cross the room, dropping a tentative kiss to the top of his head as he passed despite the wary look in his eyes. “Just a thought. It’s nothing.”

“You’re upset.”

“No, no, I’m good.”

“Please don’t lie to me.” It came out harsher than intended and Remus winced. “I mean—Sirius, something is obviously bothering you.”

He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, rubbing his thumbs in small circles over the marble countertop before making brief eye contact. “You’re angry,” he said at last, cautiously. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Remus said, then paused. Sirius’ face fell. “Well, I’m a little irritated, but—but it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t be.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Remus swallowed hard at the kicked-puppy look on Sirius’ face. “It is.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said.

And that was…honestly, kind of the worst thing he could say. “You don’t get it,” Remus said, staring at the floor. “Sirius, you just spent 200 dollars on sheets.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him more. “You said you liked them.”

“I—” Remus flailed his hand around. “I do! But Jesus, honey, that’s kind of a lot!”

“We both liked the sheets.”

“I don’t know how to tell you that that’s expensive!” he blurted as the words wormed their way out and hung in the air. “Two hundred dollars might be peanuts to you, but that used to be my food budget for the month!”

“Remus—”

“You have never had to budget a day in your life,” he said, quieter. “Your watch probably cost more than a month’s rent for my apartment, you’ve never taken public transportation—”

“Remus—”

“—and you make millions of dollars every year!” He paused, out of breath, and ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “Millions, Sirius. And—and now that we’re together, that we’re living together, it’s just really apparent in a way that it wasn’t before.”

Sirius’ throat bobbed. “I wish you had told me at the store.”

“It’s not about the sheets,” Remus laughed, because there was nothing else he could do other than cry. “We have entirely different views of how much money is worth. You can pay for things for me and I can’t do the same for you, and that feels like shit.”

An unsettling quiet blanketed the whole first floor as Sirius stayed very, very still, like a small animal caught in a trap. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he confessed, barely above a whisper. “You’re right. Money is…it’s not something I’ve had to think about, but I like spending it on you.”

“I don’t like being cared for,” Remus forced out around the grate that had been keeping it down. “I don’t like feeling like I can’t support myself, or that I’m a burden on you and especially that I can’t repay that.”

Sirius finally met his eyes, and he looked appalled. “Remus, you’re never a burden.”

“It feels like it.” He was horrified to feel the burn of tears in his eyes. “Sometimes. When—when you buy nice things for me, or we go on nice vacations, or even when you buy groceries for us for the fifth time in a row, it feels like I’m using you for your money.”

“But you’re not.”

“No!” Remus said immediately. “God, no, never. That’s the last thing I want. But I don’t want you to have to change your lifestyle to make it revolve around me, either. I feel like I’m caught in the middle and there’s no good answer.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, the way that always made Remus feel a little bit like a particularly intricate play he was trying to work out. “What did you want to say at the store?”

“I—what?”

“What did you want to say while we were getting the sheets?”

Remus bit his lip in thought. “Those are too expensive, and I think we should get different ones,” he said eventually. “I like the color and the fabric, but I don’t want to spend that much money on sheets when we could do something else with it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.” The earnest look on Sirius’ face eased some of the bubbling feelings in his chest. “And I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

“I was embarrassed.”

“…why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing to look at your multi-millionaire boyfriend and say, ‘I can’t afford $200 sheets’, Sirius. It sucks. I feel like I can’t measure up.”

Sirius nodded. “I’ve never judged you for your money, not once. Just for the record. There’s nothing I would rather spend it on than making you happy.”

“I don’t want to be sheltered and provided for.” Remus blinked back the last of the tears and closed his eyes. “I want us to be equals. That’s important to me.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t know how to fix this right away.”

“I don’t, either.” Warm fingers brushed the back of his hand and he leaned into Sirius without looking. “Can we try and figure it out, though? As a team?”

“Yes, captain,” he snorted, feeling Sirius’ soft huff on the top of his head. They stood silently for a few seconds before Remus let go of his tension with a slow exhale. “I don’t think a joint bank account is a good idea yet, but maybe we can start by alternating who buys groceries? Or something small like that. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, not with you. I love you too much.”

Sirius nuzzled into his hair for a moment before lips pressed against his temple. “How about we start by making the bed?”

The pressure on Remus’ chest eased. Making the bed was easy. They had the exact same method for it, a function of Sirius growing up with a militant mother and Remus’ aunts lovingly terrorizing him into learning how to do hospital corners. It was an olive branch that he could happily accept with a light squeeze around Sirius’ waist. Baby steps, he thought. We’ll deal with the big stuff when we’re better settled. He offered a half-smile to Sirius. “What are we waiting for?”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #lumosinlove #money talk #hurt/ comfort #angst #argument #sheets

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hannovers · 2 years

Text

…we watch the fallout of a vile group of hockey fans who, moved to anger, saw brown skin and failed to appreciate Kadri’s humanity enough to treat him like any other NHLer.

Kadri showed up to work, and performed to the best of his abilities — a hat trick, a four-point night, a victory, a series lead. The hockey world rightfully lauded the poise he’s shown amid an impossible situation, the resilience he was forced to find, to do what he’s expected to in circumstances far more extreme than he should ever expect to navigate.

I was reminded, in the aftermath of that strange triumph, that this is where the path diverges between the ones who’ve had this experience directed at their own skin, and the ones watching from afar. Because the next part of these conversations tends to take on a similar sound — how it was overcoming that hatred that allowed him to find greatness, how it was that vile energy that gave him the push he needed to take the next step in his ascent. How it was a terrible thing, of course, but in a way, maybe not so terrible, in what it inspired.

But don’t get it twisted — it’s nothing more than a terrible thing. This isn’t a journey Kadri needed to endure on that path to greatness. This isn’t the setup chapter to the story of how he persevered and won it all. He could’ve won it all anyways.

He could be great, anyways. He could score goals, get wins, push teams to the brink, anyways. This is who Nazem Kadri is, in spite of the bile, not because of it.

This is about a flood of messages that didn’t mention bodychecks or collisions in the crease — they mentioned bombings, they mentioned 9/11, they mentioned the same tired slurs heard a hundred times before by everyone who’s navigated life after September 11th with brown skin. It’s about the messages taking words that could be beautiful if only we had the collective strength of character to see them that way — words like ‘immigrant,’ like ‘Muslim’ — and tainting them with bigoted venom.

This time, Kadri was able to earn a moment of triumph to tune out some of that noise. Most in that position don’t get that chance. They just get the noise, loud and unending. They just get the questions about why it is they aren’t able to show up, perform, do what’s expected of them. And most of the time, they leave. And we lose.

So, raise Kadri up for finding a way to be at his best through all this. Raise him up for the grace and dignity with which he’s handled this situation, for going as far as saying those who harassed his family don’t represent all of the St. Louis Blues’ fan base — even as those who do represent the St. Louis Blues haven’t had the decency to separate on-ice rivalries and off-ice death threats.

Raise Kadri up for all of that. But let’s stop short of hanging the glory on the hate speech, of seeing abuse as a catalyst, or winning as a satisfying enough resolution.

And above all else, let’s bury the conversation, here and now, about Nazem Kadri’s composure.

Because here, put in a position that the vast majority of those playing the game, watching the game, covering the game will never experience, he navigated that ruthless chaos better than any of us could ever hope to.

great article by sonny

#it’s worth reading #nazem kadri #colorado avalanche #hockey #racism tw

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catboygretzky · 3 years

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no offense but worlds is very fun and very neat and very sexy and i think anyone that isn’t excited for it for various nhl and canada/usa reasons has a high horse they need to get off of

join us! sure you have to get up “early” in the morning! sure your favourite nhler probably won’t be there! but international hockey is FUN and i will be spending may 21st - june 6th watching d a y t i m e h o c k e y!!!!!!

for more info about worlds here’s the iihf website , here’s the official iihf youtube (where they have full games from past comps)(if you get bored because your nhl team isn’t in the playoffs, feel free to watch the entirety of 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019 worlds, for example), also some rule differences from nhl hockey to international hockey are here. each country has different sources for streaming (for example, TSN is streaming them in canada) but onhockey.tv will always have a stream.

my ice hockey world championship agenda will be in full force until then, so expect more worlds posting. anyway thank you <3

#iihf world championship #iihf wc21 #wc21 lb #hockey #nhl #alex rambles

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

Begin Again, part two

with Mathew Barzal

a/n: in honor of @kerwritesthings’ birthday (that’s right, go wish her a happy one if you haven’t already!)… Hayden and Mat are back! part one was one of the earlier pieces I wrote, and it was a combo of a reader/oc, which I don’t really like to use in my writing now, but I’m sticking with it for consistency’s sake. title is based on T Swift's song, which I obviously don't own and all that stuff.

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, nothing graphic

word count: 5.3K+

_____

“Hayden!” you heard from across the Coliseum concourse, just moments after you’d stepped through the doors of the main entrance. A stunning platinum blonde with a dazzling smile quickly approached, waving excitedly. Your first instinct was to look over your shoulder to try and determine who the woman was speaking to, since you didn’t recognize her, but she had called your name.

Instead, you forced a small smile and tentatively stepped toward her. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, she gathered you into a tight hug.

“Sorry, I’m a hugger!” she exclaimed, then stepped back and fanned a hand across her chest. You couldn’t help but notice the rock on her left ring finger, not to mention her perfectly manicured nails and pristine blue silk Islanders jacket, paired with a white t-shirt, black jeans, and snakeskin boots. “I’m Sydney, but you can call me Syd. It’s Sydney Esiason Martin, actually. I’m Matt Martin’s wife, but all the guys just call him Marty,” she explained, her hands gesturing animatedly all the while.

It was all coming together in your brain now, that Mat must have arranged for Sydney to be on the lookout for you, and you nodded slowly, your smile growing.

“I’m Hayden,” you offered, but of course, she already knew that, you thought as you mentally kicked yourself. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, and Marty, too.”

Sydney beamed, her eyes glittering. “Yeah, you, too!” she said. “It isn’t often Barzy brings a girl around the group. Well, honestly… it isn’t ever, actually,” she said with a lighthearted giggle. “You must be pretty special.”

You breathed a chuckle and swiped your tongue along your bottom lip, lost for words.

Sydney must have sensed your unease, because after a beat, she gave your upper arm a light squeeze and nodded her head toward the escalators leading to the suite level.

“C’mon, I’ll show ya where we’re sitting,” she said. “I’m starving. I think I want a pretzel with cheese. Are you hungry? They have the most incredible nachos up there, just wait…”

And as Sydney rambled on about the delicacies to be found in the family suite, your anxieties about meeting the people there suddenly shrunk, and you found yourself thinking that you were going to like this “Syd.”

_____

The game was a blowout.

New York beat Ottawa 6-1, and Mat had a goal and three assists, not to mention the night’s second star. You had held your own in the family box, and Sydney had been the perfect guide — introducing you to the kindest of the guys’ partners and avoiding the ones that side-eyed you standoffishly, whispering in your ear that so-and-so had dated two NHLers in the past, and so-and-so and her boyfriend were constantly on and off, and that Syd didn’t expect them to be around for long, so don’t worry about them. You mostly spent the evening nodding along politely to various conversations, giggling at Sydney’s over-the-top antics, and making small talk with some of the veterans’ wives. They all seemed relieved to know that you were familiar with the hockey world and, therefore, had at least a hint of what you were (potentially) getting yourself into.

But one thing you hadn’t expected? When Syd turned to you a few minutes after the game ended and said, “Oh! Matt just texted me. He said Barzy wants me to bring you downstairs.”

You swallowed your last sip of beer, hard.

“Downstairs?” you asked softly after a long pause.

“Uh huh!” Sydney nodded emphatically, tucking her phone into her Louis Vuitton bag and patting your knee. “He probably wants to introduce you to some of the boys. Don’t worry,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand, doing her best to calm your nerves.

You nodded slowly and reached for your own, much less expensive, bag. “O-okay.”

Ten minutes later, you were in the depths of the Coliseum in a lounge across from the locker room, Sydney chatting away about how when playoffs start, you’ll have to join her and the other girls for tailgating in the parking lot before the game, because it’s such a blast, and it’s a lot easier to watch your significant other knock the shit out of someone (or get the shit knocked out of him) when you’re tipsy. You stayed noncommittal, all the while questioning in your mind whether Mat would even want you around once playoffs started.

But you didn’t have long to dwell on that, because a moment later, the locker room door swung open, and two tall, broad, light brown-haired men stepped through it, Mat close on their heels. You could have sworn you heard him sharply whisper “please don’t embarrass me” before they crossed the hallway, but then again, maybe that was just in your head, because immediately after, Mat gave you a huge smile and stepped forward to pull you in for a hug.

“Hey!” he greeted warmly, then completely caught you off guard by pecking your lips, right there in front of half a dozen of his teammates and their partners.

You touched your fingertips to your lips, feeling them buzzing at the unexpected contact. You recovered as quickly as you could and smiled back at him, lost in the way he looked in his sharp grey suit and in how he smelled fresh out of the shower.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

And just as you studied Mat’s appearance, he was studying yours — taking in your royal blue blazer, the way your light-wash jeans hugged your curves perfectly, and, of course, admiring the Manolo Blahniks you’d scrimped and saved for two years to purchase.

“Nice shoes,” Mat commented, winking flirtatiously. You giggled, his words echoing the very first he had ever spoken to you back in the coffee shop. “Seriously, though, you look beautiful, Hayden,” he added.

Your cheeks warmed, and you tucked your hair behind your ear as you glanced down at your feet.

“Thanks, Maty,” you said quietly. “You look great, too.”

With an appreciative nod, he pressed his hand to your lower back and guided you nearer to the men accompanying him, who had already greeted their significant others — Syd kissing Matt, and Grace, you remembered, hugging her husband, whose name you couldn’t quite recall.

“Well, Hayd, you know Syd and Grace now, but I want to introduce you to their husbands, Marty and Anders,” Mat said, motioning toward them. “Anders is our captain, and Marty’s like my team dad.”

You giggled at that, glancing up at Mat fondly before focusing back on his teammates and extending your arm.

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands.

“You, too,” Anders said. “I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Yeah, Barzy won’t shut up about you, and now we see what all the fuss is about,” Marty said, laughing at his own joke as Sydney poked him in the ribs playfully.

“What’s this about Barzy not shutting up?” you heard from behind the wall of well-dressed men in front of you, before an icy blue-eyed man stepped forward. Mat rolled his eyes.

“And this is Tito,” Mat said, waving his arm toward the man you knew to be his close friend. “Don’t let him fool you — he doesn’t ever shut up, either.”

Tito smirked at that and held out his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hayden,” he said kindly. “You’ll have to come back — you must’ve been our good luck charm tonight.”

You shook your head shyly. “No, no, I can’t take the credit,” you insisted. “That was all you guys. But yes, it’s so nice to meet you, too, Tito.”

Tito smiled, looking between you and Mat, and before Tito could offer a response, Mat spoke into your ear.

“I got us a reservation at this place nearby,” he said, his low tone making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “I don’t wanna rush you, but we should probably get going. Besides, hopefully this is far from the last opportunity you’ll have to hear my friends chirp me.”

You smiled up at Mat, admiring the way his still-damp hair fell perfectly around his sculpted face, and nodded.

“Sure, let’s go,” you told him.

_____

“Okay, favoriiite... NFL team.”

“Seahawks," Mat answered. "Since Seattle’s not far from Coquitlam, you know?”

You nodded. “Plus Russell Wilson and Ciara are everything.”

“Everything,” he agreed dramatically, knocking his knuckles on the table for emphasis. “What about you?”

“Oh, Pats all the way,” you proclaimed, sitting back in your chair. “The day Brady signed with the Bucs was top five worst days of my life,” you added emphatically.

Mat clucked his tongue. “Awww, poor baby,” he said teasingly, throwing you a wink. You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, okay, your turn. Next question,” you said, reaching across the table for his hand, tracing the veins there with your fingertips as Mat beamed at you, unable to think immediately of another inquiry as he was too distracted by your soothing touch.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Alright, uh,” he began. “How about... oh, what was your favorite movie as a kid?”

A faraway smile spread slowly across your lips as you looked just past Mat, recalling laying on the floor of your den back in Maine, Nick by your side as you watched the same VHS tape over and over again.

“You’ve probably never heard of it,” you started, shaking your head. “But, uh, it was called Brave Little Toaster.”

Mat stilled.

“Shut up,” he deadpanned.

Your brows pulled together, puzzled. “What?”

Mat chuckled in disbelief. “Brave Little Toaster was my favorite movie as a kid.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re lying,” you accused.

Mat put up his hands in innocence.

“Swear!” he insisted. “You can call my sister right now. We watched it every day for years.”

You could only grin stupidly. “Us, too,” you told him. “Sequels weren’t that good, though,” you added, taking a sip of your wine.

Mat nodded, looking pleased with that assessment, and thought not for the first time that night about how easy this all felt with you. How right. From the simplest thing to the most important.

“No, no, they were trash,” he laughed. “Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars, and, uh... shit, what was the other one… uh, Brave Little Toaster…”

“To The Rescue,” you finished, Mat echoing the last word before you both fell into a fit of giggles.

“I cannot believe we have this much in common, Maty,” you said when you finally caught your breath.

“Yeah, pretty crazy, right?” Mat said. You nodded as he reached for his gin and tonic. “Feels like I’ve met my other half,” he said.

You pressed your lips together in an attempt to hide your shy smile, dropping your gaze to your lap. From across the table, Mat squeezed your hand. Then, a voice piped up from behind you.

“I hate to interrupt…”

You turned in your seat to find the maître d' leaning toward you, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“We’re going to be closing, so I just wanted to ask—”

“Oh, god, did we close the place down?!” you asked apprehensively, glancing around the room to discover that, indeed, you and Mat were the last two in the room.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Mat said, flustered. “I didn't even realize. We’ll get out of your hair. I’m so sorry, sir. Really.”

The man shook his head in understanding and left the table as the waiter approached with the bill.

Suddenly, your stomach dropped. You couldn’t even fathom how much two steak dinners and drinks for the both of you would cost at a place like this. You felt guilty for agreeing to come here instead of suggesting something less extravagant, and you braced yourself as you waited for Mat to make some noise of disgust at the number on the check, just like you’d been used to at the end of date nights for so long.

But, it never came. Mat simply tucked a few bills into the fold, and looked back up at you with a smile and a contented sigh.

“You ready?” he asked easily.

You nodded. “I’m ready for anything with you.”

Mat jutted out his chin proudly and came around to pull out your chair. With his hand gently resting on the small of your back, he guided you to the valet station in front of the restaurant while you waited for his car to be brought around. All the while, Mat felt his heart thudding against his ribcage as he contemplated his next move.

Unaware of his internal struggle, you turned to him with a smirk as you awaited the car’s arrival, and you slipped your hands into his jacket pockets as you leaned into his chest.

“My hands are cold,” you explained simply, while Mat nodded, thinking that there was no better feeling than you reaching out for him. He only wanted to be near to you, ever, always, which brought him to finally posing his long anticipated inquiry.

“Hey, uh…” Mat began, clearing his throat nervously. “I was thinkin’, maybe you’d wanna come over to my place, like, maybe for the night? Honestly I just… I just wanna spend as much time with you as I can, especially since we’ve got another roadie coming up. And I’d love to just curl up on the couch with you, maybe watch a movie—“

“Yes,” you answered softly, but firmly. You had never been more certain that yes, you wanted to go home with this person. Right now.

Mat was caught off guard by your confident answer, and he smiled down at you in disbelief.

“You sure?” he asked. “There’s no pressure, Hayd. I know this is moving fast and all.”

You nodded. “It is,” you concurred. “But it feels… good. It feels right. And I wanna come home with you, Maty.”

Mat grinned from ear to ear and grasped your face with both his hands, kissing you deeply just as his car pulled up to the curb. He took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Let’s go then.”

_____

You did spend the night at Mat's that night, and the next night, and the one after that. But the one after that, Mat wasn’t around, and was instead in Raleigh for the first half of a two-game road trip. So, you were surprised when, while you were watching the game, you heard your doorbell ring. Frowning, you jogged to your door and hit the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, Miss Parker?”

“This is she.”

“Got a delivery for you. Says it’s from an ‘M. Barzal’?”

You smirked, tucking your chin to your chest.

“I’ll be right down.”

Seconds later, you were bounding down the stairs to meet the delivery person, who stood on your building’s front steps holding a stout bouquet of full, white peonies. You thanked them as you took the bouquet in your hands, staring down at it wistfully as you closed the door behind you. Not bothering to wait until you were back in your apartment to read the note, you pulled the card from the envelope tucked within the bouquet.

Hayd,

Pretty flowers for my pretty girl. Be home soon. Don’t forget about me.

_____

“Baby sis!”

You heard your brother’s booming voice on the other end of the line three days later, sounding a bit distant. By that and the sound of papers shuffling, you knew he had you on speaker at his office. “What’s up, Hayd?”

You smiled at his eternally effervescent tone.

“Hi, Nicky,” you greeted. “Oh, nothing much.” Lie. “Just wanted to give you a call and check in.”

“Aww, I’m flattered,” Nick replied. “But you know that I know you better than anybody else, right? I can tell by your voice that you’ve got something to say. What’s goin’ on? Lay it on me.”

You bit your bottom lip. Damn him. Even all the way from Boston, he could still read you like a book. You couldn’t help the girlish giggle that escaped you as you admitted, “Okay, okay. I wanted to tell you that I, uh... I met somebody.”

You could practically hear his eyebrows shoot up over the phone.

“Really?” Nick drawled, lengthening both syllables dramatically. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but still, you beamed.

“Really,” you confirmed. “Somebody you’d, uh... somebody you’d actually probably recognize.”

“What do you mean? You cop yourself an attorney or what?”

“No,” you responded, fussing with the frayed hem of your cropped sweater. “No, not quite—“

“What, a Yankee then?”

Your eyes widened at his surprisingly accurate interruption. He was more on the nose than he knew.

“Well... not a Yankee, but...”

“Shut up,” he cut you off once more. “A Met? A Jet?”

You bit at the skin around your polished plum fingernails before you spat out, “An Islander.”

Silence. Then, a bellow.

“What?!”

That was Nick. Ever the thespian.

“It’s Mat Barzal, Nicky,” you answered matter-of-factly. “Like something out of a goddamn rom-com, I met him in a coffee shop about a month ago, and we’re… we’re dating. He’s my boyfriend.” You uttered the last words of your statement with an astonished laugh. It still seemed too good to be true just in your own head — telling someone else made you sound certifiably crazy, even to your own ears.

“I- … how... Jesus! What?!” Nick sputtered. “Hayden! What the fuck! Well, ‘m happy for you, but I’m just… I think I’m in shock right now.”

You groaned with a pained chuckle.

“I know. I’ve been in shock this entire time,” you concurred. “But Mat, he’s… he’s amazing. It sounds so cliché, but he’s just such a normal guy. He’s super polite, funny, thoughtful—“

“Plus he’s an absolute man rocket,” Nick added enthusiastically.

You put a hand to your forehead, rolling your eyes once more.

“Spoken like a true former hockey player,” you commented.

Quickly moving on from your remark, Nick asked, “So, when do Annie and I get to meet him? Seen him on the ice for years but I gotta make sure he’s good enough for my baby sis.”

You smiled warmly at his often-used term of endearment and replied, “Well, yeah. That’s kinda the main reason I wanted to talk to you. He plays the B’s next weekend, on Sunday, at the Garden. The game’s at 1, I think, so… uh… he got us tickets — three tickets. He wants me and you and Annie to go to the game and then he wants us all to go out together—“

“Done,” your brother spoke up firmly before you could even finish. You beamed at his confirmation, despite the fact that he had interrupted you for what felt like the hundredth time in your three-minute call.

“Really?” you asked, scrunching your nose tentatively. “I know you guys are really busy, especially with wedding planning and stuff, and I’d totally understand—“

“Hayden, stop,” Nick spoke sternly. “Seriously. It’s no problem. Sundays are good for us. Besides, even if I did have plans, I’d cancel them for this. Meeting my sister’s new boyfriend is a big deal.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded, though he couldn’t see it.

“Well, thank you, Nicky. It means a lot. I’ll let Mat know you can make it. He’ll be so excited,” you told your brother happily.

“Awesome,” Nick replied warmly. “So what about Mom and Dad? They haven’t met the kid yet, have they?”

You snorted. “Nicky, you’re only two years older than him,” you pointed out. “You can’t call him a kid.”

“Sure I can!” he insisted. “He’s dating my kid sister — that makes him a kid to me.”

You sighed, amused.

“Whatever. But no, they have not met him yet,” you said. “That’ll happen soon enough, you know? I mean, you know how Dad can be — he can come off as kinda gruff, even though you and I know he’s a teddy bear. And Mom, she’s just gonna fall in love with him, and I’m not ready for that just yet.” You chuckled as you heard Nick offer a hum of understanding on the other end of the phone. “Besides, he has a lot of respect for you, and you guys have a lot in common. I just think it would be great for the two of you to meet first,” you said.

“What do you mean he has a lot of respect for me?” Nick asked, sounding puzzled.

One of your brows quirked of its own accord and a smirk stretched across your lips. You’d unwittingly skipped over the best part — the best part for Nick, anyway.

“Oh, I didn’t mention that?” you asked smugly. “He remembered you. The first day we met, I told him my brother played in the Q, he asked my last name… and immediately, he remembered you.”

You heard Nick suck in a breath. “You can’t tell me shit like this, sis,” he said. “Annie always says my ego is already too big as it is, and you just inflated it even more.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, amused by his declaration.

“Well, that’s facts,” you replied. “He remembered the injury, but most of all, he remembered how good you were. He was really glad to hear you’re doing well now.”

“Marry him, or I will,” Nick deadpanned. You could tell he was trying to use humor to mask any emotions your statement had stirred up.

“Oh, Annie would love to hear you say that,” you scoffed, then you glanced at the clock above you. “Listen, I gotta get to the Coli, but I’ll—“

“Oh, my god, my name is Hayden, and my boyfriend is an Islanderrr! I have to get to the Coli to watch him playyy!” your brother mimicked ruthlessly.

You growled at Nick’s playful mocking of you and spat, “Hey, you want these B’s-Isles tickets next weekend or not?”

Immediately, Nick shaped up.

“Just kidding, my darling baby sister! I’ll let you go, and I’ll see you next weekend,” he said.

“Deal. I’ll call you once Mat and I go over the details and stuff,” you promised.

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to ya then. Hey — one more thing,” Nick said hurriedly.

“What’s that?” you inquired as you swung your handbag over your shoulder and grabbed your jacket from the hook in your entryway.

“Are you happy?” Nick asked, his voice more solemn than it had been throughout your entire conversation — more solemn than it almost ever was. Your lips stretched into a slow grin.

“Honestly, Nicky…” you began, a dreamy sigh leaving you as you paused pulling on your jacket. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m super happy.”

You could hear Nick smiling as he replied, “Good. I can tell. You deserve it, Hayd.”

“Thanks,” you answered softly. “It feels really good.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nick retorted knowingly. You hummed in agreement and he added, “Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I love you, baby sis.”

“I love you, too, brother,” you replied. “Bye.”

You tapped the red button on your screen to end the call and slipped your jacket the rest of the way over your shoulders as you headed for the door. Just as you reached for the knob, your phone dinged with a text alert.

MB 😍: See you after the game, beautiful. Sushi and sleepover at my place tonight? Up to you. Just let me know 😘

You felt your cheeks warm as a smile stretched across your face, grinning like an idiot at your phone as you had every day for the last month — not that you cared. In fact, it was a welcome change from the sighs and eye rolls you used to emit when reading texts from your last significant other. You felt grateful for this new beginning, this flood of long-dormant feelings you didn’t know you’d ever feel again.

Your fingers flew easily across the keyboard as you typed your response: Sounds perfect. Count me in. Good luck, baby 💋

Within seconds, as you pulled the door closed and headed for the parking garage, his reply lit up your screen.

MB 😍: 🥰

Yeah, you couldn’t have said it better yourself.

_____

The next weekend after dinner, Nick stood with his arm wrapped around Annie’s shoulders, waving goodbye as he watched you and Mat turn and walk down the sidewalk in front of the restaurant hand in hand. Annie squeezed Nick’s waist as he sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Annie asked with a soft smile.

Nick shook his head.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Absolutely nothing is the matter. That kid is… I mean, he’s somethin’ else, huh?”

Annie chuckled thoughtfully.

“He really is,” she agreed. “I’ve known your sister since she was a kid, and I’ve never seen her so giddy as she was today with him.”

“Yeah, me either,” Nick said, his voice sounding far away. “I feel like… I dunno, I feel like this might be the real thing. I know it sounds crazy to say that already.”

Annie grinned, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s crazy,” she said. “I think they’re really in love.”

Nick breathed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Who woulda thought? My sister and an Islander. Shit.”

_____

“Don’t freak out,” Mat spoke, an anxious smirk on his face as his eyes glimmered.

“Maty!” you whined. “You’re scaring me. What the hell is it?” you asked, your eyes landing once more on the white box tied with a blue satin ribbon.

“Just open it,” Mat instructed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as you studied him cautiously.

You shook your head, wondering what on earth he was up to, but pulled the ribbon to loosen the bow nonetheless. You pulled the top of the box off and peeled away the tissue paper beneath to reveal a denim jacket, the name “BARZAL” and the number 13 embroidered in blue and orange on the back, along with an Isles logo, a blue heart, and plenty of gemstones.

You silently looked toward Mat, who gazed at you expectantly.

“It’s a WAG jacket,” he explained. “You’ve probably seen some of the girls wear them to games.”

You nodded slowly, unable to think of even a single-word response. You knew what it was. You just couldn’t believe it was yours.

You looked back down to the jacket, then finally back at Mat. He moved from his seat on the couch to sit beside you on the loveseat, taking your hand.

“Listen, I know it’s still really early on, but, I… it just felt like a no brainer to me, Hayd,” he said, his words rushed. “You totally don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to — there’s no pressure. But with the playoffs coming up, Syd asked me if I wanted to have one made for you, and I said I did. I didn’t know if I should clear it with you first, but I wanted to surprise you with it, so I—”

“You… you want me to wear this to games?” you interrupted, your brows furrowed.

Mat’s own face contorted with confusion.

“Y-yeah… yeah, of course I do, baby,” he said. “You’re my girlfriend. And I want people to know it.”

You tried to hide your unsureness under a tight smile as you ran your fingers along the decals adorning the jacket, trailing your touch down the seams. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to being someone that your significant other was proud of and wanted to show off to the world. Past that, you couldn’t believe that Mat had purchased this for you on his own, with no strings attached — just by looking at the custom item, you knew it had been far from cheap. Every day, Mat made you feel like the most special person in the world, and sometimes you weren’t sure why he bothered, or why he’d chosen you when he could have literally anyone else.

But instead of voicing what your insecurities and your past traumas were screaming at you, you simply decided to take Mat at his word — something you’d been working hard on since the start of this relationship. You flashed a million dollar smile and threw your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Maty,” you whispered into his ear. You felt his arms tighten around you, his hands gently caressing your back. “This means so much to me.”

Mat smiled over your shoulder and kissed your temple.

“It means everything that you wanna wear it,” he told you, pulling back. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”

You beamed and glanced back down at the garment.

“You want me to try it on?” you asked excitedly, like a little kid just home from a back-to-school shopping spree.

Mat nodded, smiling. “I would love for you to try it on,” he assured.

You wasted no time pulling the jacket from the box and lifting it up. You put one arm into the first sleeve, and Mat guided the other arm after it. Upon closer inspection, you could see your own name embroidered into the wrist of the left sleeve, along with a date in matching script on the other sleeve.

“What’s this?” you asked, smoothing your finger along the thread as you held out your arm to Mat.

The corners of his lips ticked upward into a smile. “The day we met,” he said simply.

You met his eyes and immediately leaned in, grasping his face in one hand as you kissed him, overwhelmed by his constant thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” you repeated, and Mat only nodded. He took your hands and squeezed.

“Stand up, show me,” he insisted.

You giggled and obliged, doing a little spin with your arms outstretched as Mat laughed.

“Wow, baby, it looks great on you,” he said, in awe. “I absolutely love it. Do you like it?”

You nodded, biting at your bottom lip.

“It’s perfect,” you said, smoothing your hands along the fabric. “I’m definitely wearing it to the next game.”

Mathew nodded, pleased to hear your declaration, and crooked his finger, inviting you closer. You stepped forward, rested your knees on the couch on either side of his lap, and looped your arms around his neck. Mathew began to peck at your lips, jaw, and neck playfully.

“You look,” kiss, “so good,” kiss, “with my name,” kiss, “on your back,” kiss, followed by a mischievous squeeze to your butt.

You felt heat rise from your chest, up your neck, to your face, and you leaned back to rid yourself of the jacket and carefully toss it onto the back of the couch, causing Mat to pout his lips.

You shook your head, placing your index finger to his pucker.

“For what I have planned to say thank you, I’m not gonna wanna be wearing anything nice,” you told him, removing your finger to kiss his lips.

Mat raised his eyebrows and hummed his approval.

“How about not wearing anything at all?” he asked, cockiness in his tone as he tugged at your t-shirt. Following his cues, you removed it from your body and tossed it onto the floor.

“Whatever you say, Barzal,” you said, though Mat was too focused on your lacy bra to think of a response.

Instead, he hoisted you over his shoulder as you squealed with laughter, hauling you to the bedroom and leaving the denim jacket to be worn another day.

#happy birthday ker #mathew barzal #mat barzal #m.barzal #m. barzal #my writing #mathew barzal writing #mathew barzal fanfiction #mat barzal writing #mat barzal fanfiction #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction #new york islanders #islanders #barzal

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idontlikeem · 3 years

Note

This is why I’ve always been baffled that hockey fandom never made as much of Geno’s multiple shows of support for 🏳️‍🌈 folks. That’s an unprecedented and enormous thing to declare by a Russian NHLer let alone such a prominent one. Whatever else he can’t say regarding his home country’s government he’s stuck to that one principle for years despite it being at odds with the government line and traditional cultural opinion.

i'm putting my thoughts on this ask under a cut because it's a little long and also so people who aren't interested in my thoughts on geno's relationship with russia can scroll by :)

it can be hard to pull back and realize that our experience and interaction with the ruling parties in countries like the united states and canada, and other functional democracies around the world, in no way resemble the experiences of a russian citizen, powerful and protected or not. it's a totally different way of life and that's so hard to conceptualize.

geno's very lackluster tag-on to the whole 'putin team' thing was not ideal, but in my opinion, which is by no means the 'right' opinion and i'm not trying to say it is, there's a world of difference between tagging into a group that your peers are that allows you to curry favor with a dangerous dictator, and starting said group of your own volition.

i don't know geno's politics. we can guess at ovechkin's based on what he's said and who he's socialized with, but we still don't know for sure.

what we do know is geno had a fraught, difficult relationship with russia as a young man, involving personal threats of forced military service and extremely blatant coercion, and had to literally flee to make it to america. we know his parents spend a lot of time in the US. we know geno himself is now a dual citizen. and, as you pointed out, we know that he's been a quiet, but steady, supporter of LGBTQ+ causes for years now, despite russia's laws and treatment of LGBTQ+ individuals.

if i were someone who had deep love for and pride in my country of origin, had a rocky relationship with them due to actions i was forced into taking when i was practically still a child, and was riding the line of what's acceptable to say and do for some other hot-button social issues...i dunno, i might pander a little to the leader of said country by putting my name on a group someone else started and making a post or two about it (and then not doing much else). just to keep the person in charge happy, and shield my friends, family, and assets.

it's an impossible situation for so many people. i just have a hard time with expecting any russian national to stand up and blatantly oppose the kremlin. those that have been doing so are immensely brave and should be applauded, supported, and shielded—but at the end of the day we're all just people. i wouldn't be brave enough to do that.

#asks #anon

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jamesvanriemsdyk · 4 years

Text

recap: flyers scrimmage 1/10/21

hi whats up i said i would try to do this and so now i am! let’s just drive right in, shall we

brian elliot looked absolutely incredible. just absolutely rock solid, clearly comfortable in goal. the last two against him were breakaways, so im not really holding them against him. absolutely thrilled he’s back this season tbh

carter hart also looked really good. let two in early and then completely shut things down - a lot of the same calm confidence we saw last season, along with some absolutely sensational saves.

ill just get right to it: nolan patrick is a fucking nhler. he didnt just make the team, he BELONGS on the team. he earned his place a thousand times over; he looked absolutely great tonight. scored a goal, obviously, but his offensive zone presence and positioning absolutely blew me away. his ice vision is just as good as its always been. he’s gotten better at shielding the puck and has almost gotten MORE aggressive, which is absolutely great to see. we’re probably going to see him throw his weight around more this season, which i love. the nolan patrick revenge tour 2k21 is absolutely on.

kevin hayes was an absolute monster in this game. two goals right at the start, and even though he didnt score again, that’s more of an indication of how good carter played than anything else. lots of rushes to the net, lots of good offensive chances.

i am deeply into the giroux-hayes-farabee line. they generated a lot of offense (those two hayes goals) and were a force to be reckoned with. we’ll see how it goes.

also a huge fan of the voracek-patrick-vanriemsdyk line. another great offensive force; jvr’s netfront presence goes GREAT with patty’s ice vision and jake’s forechecking. theyll be a great second or third line - maybe even a shutdown line that can also generate offense and generally be annoying to play against, which again, i love.

ivan provorov is still an absolute monster, which we all know. he looked great tonight and played a ton, and is so clearly the best dman on the ice at all times.

in the same vein, myers and sanheim still look great together! myers especially is earning that contract, which is absolutely ideal.

lindblom, giroux, and tk all looked good. all had good offensive presence and had several chances to score. i always wanna see more from g and tk specifically, but thats just me being me and wanting to see my faves succeed lmao

scott laughton looked great as well; incredible forechecking and a breakaway goal at the end rounded out a really good performance from him.

overall im really pleased with how this went. a little nervous about how the shootout went, but again, elliot and hart put on an absolute clinic all game long. seeing them as a tandem again is absolutely going to work out in philly’s favor, and them combined with the major chemistry the new lines have makes me really excited for flyers hockey this season.

#and thats what you missed on glee #flyers lb #j.txt #should i do these for every game i watch?? was this of use to literally anyone #game recap 1.10.21

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toplinetommy · 4 years

Text

Four Times You Ask Travis to Fill In + The One Time He Asks You

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: language, a guy being a dick in the first part

a/n: literally got inspo from this out of nowhere and sat down to write it after a two 8 hour work days, pls dont hesitate to give me feedback!

one

“You want a refill?” Travis asks you as he sees you stirring your straw in your now empty glass.

“Yes, please!” You answer, smile on your face.

“The usual?” He double checks, regarding the light yellow liquid that was previously in your cup. You nod your head yes and he walks away through the crowd towards the bar.

As you wait, you pull out your phone to check your Snapchat as you lean against the wall where your small group was formed.

As you switch to texting your roommate back, you feel a much larger presence that couldn’t possibly be Travis. You offer the large stranger a soft smile as you turn your full attention back to your phone.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” The man asks, making you turn to him to fully take his appearance in.

You roll your eyes as you look at him, clearly not knowing him and clearly figuring out that the statement was just a line. “I don’t think so.”

“You sure? I feel like we’ve had to have met before. I’d remember someone as pretty as you,” The guy smirks, taking a step closer to you.

You roll your eyes once more at the comment before turning your attention towards the bar across the room. The dim lighting of the bar combined with the overcrowding made it difficult for you to find your best friend.

“And I think I’d remember a guy that used that lame of a pick-up line.” You clap back, a tight lipped smile falling on your face once you’re done speaking. You go back to your phone, trying your best to get the guy to take the hint that you’re not interested. Instead, he doesn’t, and he begins speaking yet again.

“You’re sassy, I like that.” He says, his gaze moving from your eyes down the rest of your body. The path of his gaze is painfully obvious to you as you try not to gag at both his actions and his attempts at flirting. He moves his hand to place it on his waist and the second you feel it, you’re shoving him off of you.

You turn your body once again to see if any of your friends notice the situation you’re in. All of them are either in their own worlds or out on the dancefloor, so you start looking for Travis who you still can’t find in the large crowd.

However, the shove doesn't stop him as he moves towards you again, closer than he was before. He starts to crowd you closer to the wall before a warm hand grabs you and Travis is suddenly between you and the stranger.

“Aye, you better not be hitting on my girl.” He interrupts, linking your fingers with his and fully placing his body in front of yours, blocking you from the much taller man.

“You better keep your girl in check then, man, she was all over me.” The stranger counters, puffing his chest trying to intimidate Travis.

“My girl wasn’t flirting with you. She can do whatever she wants anyways.” He shrugs, puffing out his smaller, but still broad chest. The stranger finally takes the hint and walks away, making sure to shove Travis as he turns.

“Thank you for that. I barely even talked to him but he wouldn’t leave me alone.” You thank Travis, once he turns back towards you. He hands you your drink before pulling your head into your chest, rubbing the back of your head in comfort.

“You’re okay,” He assures you, pulling away to look at your facial expression.

two

“Hey, you know that Luke Combs concert I bought tickets to, like, months ago?” You ask Travis, sitting down at his island as he moves towards the fridge to get a bottle of water out. He shuts the fridge before turning around and leaning against it. “Yeah? You’re supposed to go with Rilee, right?”

“That’s the thing,” You start. “She was supposed to go with me but I guess her boyfriend is having surgery so she has to be there for that.”

Travis takes a gulp of his water as he listens closely to your predicament. “So what are you gonna do?” He swallows.

“Well,” you start, the pitch in your voice higher than normal. It’s the same voice you use with him everytime you ask him for a favor and you can tell he knows as he dramatically sets his water bottle down on the counter and throws his baseball hat covered head back. “I was thinking you could come instead. I already checked your game schedule and you don’t have a game and you’ll be in town!” You exclaim.

Travis just looks at you silently as you speak. Your body is leaning over the island you’re sitting at, trying to get more of his attention and trying to make him understand how big of a deal it is to you.

“You know how much I love him! Please!” You beg further.

“What day is it exactly? I’ll make sure to clear my schedule.” Travis agrees, pulling his phone out of his pocket to double check his calendar. A squeak leaves your mouth and you jump out of your seat, running to him to give him a hug. You kiss his cheek loudly, leaving a wet spot on his cheek and mutter another thank you.

“Yuck.” Travis groans, wiping the slightly wet spot off of his cheek, a smile still covering his face contradicting his verbal discomfort of your actions.

Pulling away from him, you move a step back opening the fridge to grab a drink for yourself. “You love country music, you can’t not have fun.” You argue, as you close the fridge, staring him down as you do so.

three

Thanksgiving was just right around the corner, which in Philadelphia meant the full effects of Fall were coming out. The streets were littered with orange leaves, pumpkin spice lattes were at all of your favorite coffee shops, and football and hockey was back in full force.

It also meant the dreaded yearly company dinner your office had around this time. You were one of the younger people working at your office, which meant you didn’t fully immerse yourself into the office culture, and instead only talked to people directly in the same department.

“So, it’s almost American Thanksgiving.” Travis remarks, looking at you writing things down on the calendar that’s stuck to your refrigerator.

You turn to your friend, hand still writing, “do you know what you’re doing yet?”

“We have games the day before and the day after, so I’ll probably just go to Haysie’s place since you’re going home.” He shrugs.

“That doesn’t sound too bad. What sounds bad is my drive home and seeing people I haven’t seen in forever asking me the same million questions.” You say, capping your pen and placing it on the countertop next to you. “I also have a company dinner the weekend before, which really doesn’t sound fun.”

“Why?” Travis laughs. He knows you love your job so he’s confused as to why you don’t think you’ll have a fun time.

“For starters, the company is way larger than you think it is so it’ll be a fuck ton of people. Secondly, I only talk to the people in my department and everyone is significantly older than me.” You explain.

“Do you have to go?” He further questions.

“I don’t think so, but they’ll know if I’m not there.” You shrug, “Think of it like all those dinners you have to do with the Flyers. You could not show up but it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Ahh, I see, okay, yeah, and if it’s anything like mine, it seems like they’ll be stuffy.”

“Exactly.” you point, moving to sit next to him at the kitchen table. “And, I’m pretty sure all of the people I’m friends with are bringing their significant others.”

He nods his head at your complaints, thinking of positives to bring up about why the dinner will in fact be fun.

“Unless,” You start, dragging out the end of the word which fully grabs Travis’ attention as he sets his beer down to the table. “Do you want to come with? You can be my entertainment for the night!” You suggest, hint of begging in your tone.

Travis stares at your suggestion dumb-founded, “What.” The stiff tone in his voice makes it seem like he’s not even asking a question, and is instead stating a fact. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What do you mean? It’s a perfect idea!” You clap your hands together before they start moving frantically as you continue to ramble. “You already have a suit, you probably won’t have a game, you’re already used to talking to those fancy people!”

“You should bond with the people you work with.” Travis counters.

“I can still do that if you’re there.” You state, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

You stare him down and you can see him start to crack before he responds, “Fine, but if more than five people ask me about what being an NHLer is like, I’m ditching you.”

four

A loud groan leaves your mouth as you walk back into your apartment, a stack of mail in your hands and a confused Travis sitting on your couch. He looks up from his phone with knitted eyebrows, silently asking you what the groan was for.

You set the stack of mail down on the table by your front door before tossing him a pristine white envelope with neat, black handwriting on the outside. “Who’s Emma?” He asks, handing the mail back to you.

You begin opening the envelope as you speak. “You know that one girl in my sorority that I would constantly complain about?” He nods his head, urging you to go on. “I saw a while ago that she got engaged on Instagram and I guess she’s inviting me to the wedding.”

“Literally who gets married in the winter anyways?!” You groan dramatically, setting your full weight into the couch next to your friend.

Travis laughs next to you at your dramatic body movement before he turns to you.”So?” He asks, somewhat confused at your groaning.

“Why would you want to get married in Philly when it’s below freezing? Like who wants to do that!” You complain.

“You know you just don't have to go?” Travis suggests with raised eyebrows. Another groan passes your lips at your oblivious friend.

“I can’t just not go! She was my roommate when I lived in the sorority house.” You state in a straightforward tone.

“When is it?” Travis questions further.

You toss him the formal invitation, “Early December.”

He reads over the invitation before looking up to you to hand it back to you. As he reaches his hand to hand it over, a light bulb goes off in your head.

“Oh no.” Travis starts.

“You can come with!” You suggest excitedly.

“No, you don’t need an NHL player crashing your friend’s wedding.” He argues.

“Oh yes, I do.” You argue back, voice stern. The two of you stare one another down for what feels like minutes before Travis finally caves and agrees to go with you.

“See what I mean?” You start turning to look at Travis. “It’s fucking freezing why whould you want to get married in this? There’s literally snow on the ground.” You complain, gesturing to the inches of snow surrounding the sidewalks as you walk from the ceremony to the reception.

Travis wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm to try and give you some sort of warmth. It isn’t as successful as you want it to be, but you appreciate the gesture as you lean into his warmer side.

“It’s not fair though, you get to wear an overcoat and still look nice. If I put on my winter coat I would like a marshmallow.” You scoff, causing loud laughter to erupt from Travis.

“You know damn well you wouldn’t look like a marshmallow.” He starts in between fits of laughter. “And, besides, your sexy legs would take away from your marshmallow-ness.” He jokes poking at the bottom of your thigh where you dress ended and the bareness of your legs started.

A light blush comes to your cheeks and your stomach tightens as you scoff at his comment and push him away jokingly.

You guys walk the rest of the short distance to the reception in quiet chills before finally finding your seats. You had to admit the wedding so far had been beautiful, even if you had a slight distaste for the bride herself.

You’re still sat after the both of you finish your meals, the both of you taking a break before joining the dancefloor again.

“Not too bad, eh?” Travis questions you. His arm is resting comfortably over the back of your chair not quite directly landing over your shoulders. You turn your attention from the large mass on the dancefloor to Travis before answering, “Yeah, better than I thought it would be. I’ve gotten to see a lot of people from college I haven’t seen in a while.” A good chunk of your sorority sisters had also been in attendance as well as a few other people you recognized as Emma’s close friends.

He nods his head slightly before you ask him if he too is enjoying his evening. “Of course, it’s an excuse to hang with you and get you to dance without begging.” He remarks. “Speaking of, I think it’s time to go out-dance everyone out there.” He stands up, offering his hand for you to grab. You take a hold of his hand as you stand up and follow him to the middle of the room where the dancefloor was located.

The two of you dance for a while, and by two of you, it’s Travis dancing like an idiot while you kind of just bounce and sing to the songs. A slower song comes on and you turn away from Travis, intending to make your way back to your seats. Instead, Travis stops you, pulling your body flush against his as he rests his hands on the small of your back. “Not so fast there, killer,” He smiles, looking down at your face.

You slowly move your hands to his shoulders, playing with the ends of his hair with one hand. “You should really get a haircut soon.” You chirp, knowing all too well he won’t cut it just because you told him to. He playfully rolls his eyes at your joke and lets the two of you dance to the song in silence.

As the song ends you begin to slightly pull away from him. “Thanks for filling in as my date today, Travis. I know you get your fair share of weddings in the offseason.”

“You know I don’t mind, y/n” He replies as the music completely cuts out before the next one starts.

You leave a soft kiss on his cheek before you’re pulled away by a few of your friends you haven’t been able to say hi to yet.

plus one

Your phone starts to ring, pulling your attention from your computer. Picking it up you see Travis’ face covering the screen so you answer it.

“Y/n!” He cheers loudly into the phone, causing you to erupt in a giggle. “Have you checked Instagram in like the past five minutes?”

“No?” You answer, infliction in your voice. You move your phone away from your ear, putting it on speaker before opening the Instagram app. “I’ve been pretty busy at work today.”

“Well, look!” He says, just as loudly. You scroll on your feed, trying to find what Travis is silently asking you to look for. You still don’t know what he’s talking about and you open your mouth to ask him and that’s when you see it.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, liking the post by the Philadelphia Flyers. You read the caption a few more times as the news settles in. “You’re an all star!”

“I’m an all star, baby!” He repeats back to you. Your smile widens even more hearing the excitement in your best friend’s voice. “Chuck pulled me aside before practice this morning.” He explains.

“Congratulations Teeks,” You compliment. “I’m really proud of you. You’ve been working your ass off all season for something like this.”

“Thank you, y/n, means a lot.” He starts, a softness in his tone replacing his previous excitement. “I’ll let you get back to work, though.” He finishes.

“Want to celebrate after your game?” You suggest. “I can come over and bring some food?”

“Sounds perfect. See ya later.”

“Good luck tonight! I’ll talk to you soon.” You conclude, hanging up.

You knock on Travis’ front door before opening it and letting yourself in, announcing your presence. You go to set the bag of take out and the bottle of wine you brought over for the occasion onto his island before you see him emerge from his bedroom hallway.

Once you see him you smile and run over to him, tackling him in a hug. “Congratulations!” You shriek with glee. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as he wraps his tightly around your torso, slightly lifting your body off the ground.

“Thank you!” He cheers once he pulls away from you.

“I brought Five Guys and some wine to celebrate,” You start, leading him back towards his kitchen island. “I thought you could ditch your diet for one night.”

Your joke causes Travis to let out a chuckle as he closely examines the bottle of wine you brought. Instead of opening it or even pulling out the to-go containers from the bag, he leans against the island turning to look at you.

There’s an unreadable softness in his eyes which has you confused. Not only did he find out that he was going to be an NHL all-star at such a young age, the Flyers had also won their game that night, so he should at least be filled with glee.

“What’s up?” You ponder from across the spacious kitchen.

“Just thinking about everything I guess, everything it took to get here.” The sudden turn from Travis’ normal cheerfulness to openly talking about his emotions has you even more confused. He looks into your eyes from where he stands and holds out his arms, leaning towards you to pull you closer.

“Like, you’ve been here when we were dog shit - when I was dog shit, and now you’re here.” He starts. He’s holding both your hands now, lightly rubbing his thumbs on the back of them. He looks down at your joined hands before continuing. “Like, I feel like I’m in a dream, like how the hell am I an all-star?”

“Because you’re an amazing hockey player Travis, and the league knows that.” You comfort him, taking a step closer to him. It feels as if the air around is lighter as you look into his eyes and feel his body closer to yours than it normally is.

He stays quiet a little while longer, glancing at your mouth every so often. “I was thinking today, you should come with me to St. Louis, eh?” He suggests, pulling your body so that your thighs are touching his. His rough hands disconnect from your hands, as he places one on your waist and the other on the junction of your jaw.

Your mouth slightly drops open at his suggestion, “Don’t families just go? And like girlfriends?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m getting around to asking you.” He whispers, head leaning in towards yours. His mouth is millimeters away from yours, and you’re sure he can feel your deep breathing on his face. “I kinda like, really like you.”

“So, you’re asking me out then?” You question, your hands moving to the back of his neck where his longer hair rests.

“I mean, I kinda thought all those times you asked me to go to those things where dates,” He shrugs, his nose brushing against yours. “I was hoping we could skip that part and you could just be my girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes momentarily move from his, down to his mouth, and back up to his eyes before you respond in a whisper, “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes for Travis to close the small gap between the two of you as his mouth moves against yours softly.

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny #alex writes

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