#ny islanders

[yvaineseleneposts]

Plus one

A/N: Sorry I have been AWOL. I just got back from Paris/Disney with my exam students. Spring break has started so I am back! Leave me requests if you want to request something.

Requested: no

Pairing: Mat Barzal x reader

Words: 2k

Warning(s): none, it's very fluffy

Mathew Barzal hadn’t planned to ask her.

She was his friend — the kind of friend who knew the name of his childhood dog and called him out when he ordered two desserts “for the table” but ended up eating both. The kind of friend who texted him good luck before every game and made him laugh harder than anyone else could, even after a loss.

Which was exactly why she wasn’t supposed to be his last resort.

But three weeks before his cousin’s wedding, Mat sat on his couch, scrolling through his contacts, each name sending a small wave of reluctance through him. He couldn’t bring just anyone — not to a family wedding in Kelowna where every aunt would be sizing up his date like a draft prospect.

So he tapped her name. The phone rang twice.

“Hey, Barzy. What’s up?” Her voice was casual, warm. It made his stomach tighten in the way he never admitted out loud.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck even though she couldn’t see it. “Random question. Feel free to say no.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” she said.

“My cousin’s getting married. In Kelowna. It’s kind of a big deal — outdoor vineyard, crazy guest list, you know.”

She let out a small laugh. “Sounds fancy. Where do I come in?”

“I need a date. And, well... I’m out of options.” He winced the moment the words left his mouth.

“Wow, how romantic,” she teased. “You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, then quieter, “I just didn’t think you'd say yes if I said you were my first choice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Mat…” she said, her voice a little softer now.

“So?” he said, trying to keep his tone light, playful, like always. “Want to come crash a wedding with me?”

She laughed, and it was the kind that always hit him right in the chest. “Sure, Barzal. I’ll be your pity date.”

“I’ll have you know, it’s open bar. And I clean up well.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t make me dance with your uncles.”

He smiled, a little too wide. “No promises.”

But the truth was, he’d only be thinking about dancing with her.

The wedding was exactly as over-the-top as Mathew had described. Rows of white chairs curved toward a flower-draped arch in the middle of the vineyard, the late afternoon sun painting everything gold. The bride was radiant. The view was unreal.

But Mat couldn’t focus on any of it.

Because she stepped out of the car wearing a dusty blue dress that made time feel like it slowed down. Her hair was half-up, curling softly around her face, and when she smiled at him — really smiled — his chest did something unfamiliar. Something dangerous.

“Wow,” he said, before he could stop himself.

She grinned. “You clean up pretty well too, Barzal.”

He offered her his arm. “Let’s go convince my family we’re not a total disaster.”

She looped her arm through his. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

The reception buzzed with champagne and laughter. Mat’s cousins whispered and winked every time she walked past, and his mom already looked halfway convinced she was part of the family.

She laughed through speeches and toasted with his teammates who made the trip. She even danced with Uncle Rick, whose rhythm should have been illegal.

Mat tried not to stare. Failed, obviously. But watching her — head tilted back in laughter, eyes crinkling — something clicked into place.

She fit. Too well.

And that terrified him.

Later, as the sky turned navy and the fairy lights came on, soft music drifted through the speakers. The kind of slow, dreamy track that was made for swaying close on a summer night.

She was sitting at their table, heels kicked off, sipping a drink when he walked over.

“Dance with me,” he said. Not a question.

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you promise to protect me from this?”

He grinned. “That was before I realized how good you look under twinkle lights.”

She rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway. “Smooth.”

They stepped onto the dance floor. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders; his went to her waist, almost too careful.

They moved slowly, in sync without trying. The buzz of the day faded into the background — just murmurs and clinking glasses, and the two of them in a bubble that felt too easy to fall into.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“This is surprisingly not awkward,” she murmured.

He laughed, a little breathless. “Maybe we’re just that good.”

A beat passed. The song drifted on.

Then he said it.

Quietly. So quietly she almost missed it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

She blinked. “What?”

Mat froze. The words hung in the air like mist — soft, irreversible.

“I—” he started, then let out a shaky breath. “Shit. That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to say that now.”

She didn’t pull away.

“Mat,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He looked at her then, all the jokes stripped away, eyes searching hers. “I didn’t ask you as a last resort. I just... couldn’t think of a way to ask you without messing it up.”

Her expression shifted, softening, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“Then maybe you should’ve said that first,” she said, smile curling at the corner of her lips. “Because I might’ve said yes even sooner.”

His breath caught.

“Wait… are you saying—?”

“I’m saying you’re a dumbass,” she teased, leaning in slightly, “but you’re my dumbass.”

The music kept playing. He didn’t say anything else — he just pulled her a little closer and kept dancing.

The wedding wound down the way all good ones do — heels forgotten, ties loosened, and laughter spilling into the warm night. But Mat barely noticed. Not when she was still by his side, fingers laced with his as they walked back toward the guest cottages tucked behind the vineyard.

The stars were out in full force, quiet and infinite above them. Crickets chirped somewhere in the grass. The world felt hushed.

They stopped just outside her door.

Neither moved.

She looked up at him, the soft glow of the porch light catching the curve of her cheek. “You okay?”

Mat nodded. Then shook his head. Then gave a small, crooked smile. “No. Not really.”

She laughed under her breath. “Still spiralling about blurting it out on the dance floor?”

He groaned. “I literally had a whole plan to tell you… someday. Maybe. Eventually. Not during a slow dance in front of Uncle Rick and a bunch of shrimp cocktail.”

She stepped closer. “It was kind of perfect, actually.”

He looked at her then — really looked. “So… what now?”

She tilted her head, eyes soft. “Now you kiss me. Unless your plan was to confess and then run away?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was steady, sure — like all the months of unsaid things had finally found their place. Her hands slid to the back of his neck. His curled around her waist. And when they pulled apart, forehead to forehead, neither of them spoke for a moment.

They didn’t need to.

Sunlight spilled through the gauzy curtains of her room, golden and lazy. Birds chirped somewhere nearby, and the faint smell of vineyard earth and distant coffee lingered in the air.

Mat was already awake.

He sat on the edge of the bed, in his rumpled white dress shirt and black slacks, looking wholly out of place and yet somehow completely at home.

She stirred, blinking against the light. “You’re staring.”

He smiled, sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… making sure this wasn’t a dream.”

She reached for the nearest pillow and lobbed it at him. “You’re such a cliché.”

He caught it easily, laughing. “A devastatingly handsome cliché.”

She sat up, pulling the covers around her, and looked at him — really looked. There was something in his face she hadn’t noticed before. Not nerves. Not regret.

Just realness.

“How long?” she asked softly.

He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant.

“A while,” he said. “Long enough to be scared I ruined everything by saying it.”

She reached for his hand. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“I don’t want this to be just a wedding thing,” he said. “I don’t want to go back to pretending I’m just your friend.”

“Good,” she said, scooting closer. “Because I don’t think I could un-know this now.”

Mat leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. “So… are we doing this?”

She smiled, warm and sure. “Yeah, Barzy. We’re doing this.”

And in that sun-drenched room, with the world soft and quiet around them, it finally felt simple.

Three Weeks Later

She’d been to plenty of Mathew’s games before. Cheered him on from the stands. Worn his number on a hoodie, shouted when he scored, even roasted him for missed passes in post-game texts.

But this time? This time, she wasn’t just his friend who watched hockey. She was his girlfriend. And somehow, that made everything feel new.

She smoothed down her Islanders jersey — Barzal’s name stitched across the back — and tried not to overthink it. But her heart pounded a little faster when she caught sight of his face on the Jumbotron during warmups. She smiled instinctively, even though he couldn’t see her. Yet.

“Alright, Ms. Barzal,” teased the friend sitting next to her — one of Mat’s teammates’ girlfriends, clearly already in on the news. “You’re glowing. It’s kind of gross.”

She laughed, cheeks warm. “Shut up. I’m not glowing.”

“You are, though. I respect it.”

The game was intense. Fast-paced. Mat was locked in, weaving across the ice like he was born on skates. He tallied two assists by the second period, and when the buzzer rang at the end of the third with the Isles taking the win, she was already on her feet, clapping so hard her palms stung.

When he glanced up at the stands before disappearing down the tunnel, his eyes found her like they always did.

Only this time, he smiled. Just for her.

She stood awkwardly near the corner, watching other girlfriends and family members mingle, sipping beer out of plastic cups and waiting for their guys to emerge. Her fingers tugged nervously at the hem of her jersey.

Then the locker room doors opened, and there he was — hair still damp, suit back on, tie loose, smile easy.

Mat’s eyes lit up the second he saw her.

“There she is,” he said, walking straight over. “You looked good in the stands.”

“I looked good?” she teased. “Did you even notice the game?”

“I mean, I noticed the win,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist. “But yeah. You were kinda distracting.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him. “You were amazing.”

“Two assists,” he said, smug. “Pretty solid, huh?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, smirking up at him.

Then he kissed her.

Right there — in the middle of the lounge, surrounded by teammates and families and a million pairs of eyes.

Not shy. Not hesitant.

Just… his lips on hers, his hand steady at her back, like she belonged right there next to him.

When they pulled apart, a few of the guys nearby whooped obnoxiously.

“Get a room, Barzy!”

“Finally made it official, huh?”

Mat grinned, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Yeah,” he said, eyes still on her. “We did.”

And she realized, in that moment, that this — the hockey games, the post-win kisses, the teasing from teammates — this was real now.

They were real.nhl

[satrnretrnsintrlude]

HEEEEEYYYYYY *louder than everyone else*

[fallinallincurls]

The Moment I Knew

a barzy fic!! i had the best time writing this for the eras tour challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! getting to combine two things i love (hockey and taylor swift) made this fic so much fun to write and i hope you love it as much as i do.

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

song: the moment i knew (taylor's version)

word count: 2.4k

This was not how this night was supposed to go.

Your friends decided to throw a huge party at one of the most popular rooftop bars in Manhattan for your birthday this year. They promised the view of the city was gorgeous, the drinks were amazing and the night was sure to be one to remember for years. It was the perfect excuse to finally wear the stunning dress you’ve been saving for months so to say the least, you were beyond excited to celebrate turning another year older.

What you didn’t expect, however, is the text you sent to Mat hours ago to go unread. It was just a reminder that the party started at eight and that you couldn’t wait to see him. But instead of receiving a message back that he would be there or even a simple red heart emoji, you got silence.

And that’s all you can think about now even though you’re surrounded by your closest friends who couldn’t be happier to celebrate you.

Despite the drinks that are flowing, the glittering New York City skyline and the hundreds of pictures that have been snapped to remember the night, you couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that the person who matters the most isn’t here.

He promised he would be.

Your eyes remain glued to the door waiting, hoping, to see him burst through the crowd wearing that signature “baby, I’m right here smile” he reserves just for you. Friends ask how you’re doing and you nod along, faking the happiness you should be feeling at the moment. But every time someone says his name or goes “Where’s Mat?” that sinking feeling in your stomach becomes more and more obvious because as the minutes tick by, it’s clear that he isn’t going to show up.

How could he? How could he forget?

Yes, Mathew Barzal may be the face of the New York Islanders franchise and one of the best players currently in the NHL, but outside of hockey, he’s yours. Your boyfriend, your light, the person who makes you feel at home no matter where you are as long as you’re with him. 

You vividly remember him grinning when he found out about the plan your friends put together. In your mind, you see the moment when he said “I can’t wait to celebrate my girl,” before he pulled you in for a deep kiss. It’s unlike him to just bail on something especially when he promised he’d be here and he knows how much this night means to you.

Yet, here you are, standing in your sparkly party dress with red lipstick on searching for the one thing missing from this perfect night. The man who holds your heart.

“Hey,” your best friend slides up next to you, gently shoving a rum and coke into your hand. With just a glance at her, you notice her smile isn’t as bright as usual. She must know something is up. “How are you holding up? Having fun?”

“So much. Thank you again for putting this together.” You say, hoping you disguise the sadness well enough she doesn’t pick up on it.

“It’s what you deserve.” She replies honestly and despite everything, you couldn’t be more grateful for her. Before you can express that feeling though, she continues speaking and what she says next breaks your heart a little bit more. “Is Mat coming? I’m surprised he isn’t here yet, but the night is still young.”

Tears prick at your eyes and it’s then you realize you aren’t the only one painfully aware of the handsome Canadian’s absence from the party.

“He said he would be.” It’s the only response you have. Deep down you don’t even know if he will actually be here tonight even if you’re holding onto every shred of hope. Maybe he’s running late and hasn’t looked at his phone in a long time. Maybe his phone died after he left and he’s on his way right now but you have no idea. There are a million excuses you could make, but something tells you that none of them are the reality of the situation.

What do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn’t show?

Feeling the overwhelming heartache well up in your chest, you excuse yourself from the conversation and head right toward the bathroom. That’s the one place you can fight these tears off and regain your composure without anyone else around. 

When you look in the mirror and stare down your reflection, another stab of pain shoots through your heart. The woman you’re looking back at should be so happy she can’t stop smiling, eyes full of wonder and nothing on her mind but having fun with the people who she loves so dearly.

Instead, you’re trying to stop the tears from falling so your makeup stays intact and hoping you can enjoy even a second of this fantastic party. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. 

And that’s when the anger sets in.

You and Mat may have only been together for six short months, but in that time, you have fallen head over heels in love with him. He’s been the most incredible boyfriend and you haven’t regretted giving your heart over to him. He hasn’t ever broken a promise or lied or did anything to make you feel unloved.

Until tonight.

And how dare he ruin something that was meant to be full of joy and unforgettable memories? How dare he do this to you and ruin a night that was about celebrating you? You shouldn’t be crying over him at your birthday party.

You deserve better than that.

Taking a deep breath, you freshen up your makeup and recite a pep talk in your head. This might be the worst pain your heart has ever endured, but you deserve to enjoy the night no matter what and that’s exactly what you’re going to try to do. 

Starting now.

As you step back out to the bar, you focus on everything but the gaping hole Mat has left on the night. The closer you get to where your friends are gathered, you spot a beautifully decorated cake sitting on the tabletop. 

“Y/N!” Your best friend calls out, waving you over with a beaming smile. It all happens in slow motion. Taking your place behind the cake with the candles lit waiting for you to make a wish. Everyone circling around and singing happy birthday to you. As you blow out the candles and make a wish amid the loud roar of applause, all you can think about is what’s missing. About who is missing.

The tall, brunette hockey player whose hazel eyes are always soft with admiration around you. 

You miss him even through the pain he’s caused tonight. But you savor every moment with your friends until it’s time to go home. After all the hugs, happy birthday wishes and goodbyes, you check your phone before gathering the gifts everyone brought. Still not a single text or call from Mat.

That’s the moment you know.

This is it.

You can’t dedicate yourself to a relationship just to not be cherished by a man who is too caught up in his own world to remember something as simple as your birthday. You deserve a better love than this.

The moment your apartment door closes behind you, a ringing fills the silence. Your phone. The screen is lit up with a picture of you and Mat after an Isles game, one of the first you attended as his girlfriend. You don’t overlook the fact that it took him all night to call. The party's over now and you know answering this call is going to result in him apologizing for not being there.

“Mat,” You say curtly when the call connects. Tears prick at your eyes again, but you push the emotions back in an effort to get through this conversation without breaking down. 

“Y/N,” Mat breathes out, his tone heavy but you can’t identify with what emotion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t make it.” 

“I’m sorry, too.” 

And that’s when you told him. Even though he was the right person, it was the wrong time and you couldn’t do this anymore. If you happen to run into him at some point in the future, the door isn’t closed on the possibility of being together again. 

For right now though, you bid the great love you had with Mathew Barzal goodbye. 

~~~~

It all happens in slow motion.

The DJ’s voice booms through the speakers in the ballroom announcing for the crowd to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Barzal to the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple. The fairy lights twinkle while the sound of steady applause and loud cheers erupt all around you. The familiar feeling of another’s hand, his hand, in yours somehow makes the smile on your face even brighter. 

You know this is the moment. The moment you’ve been dreaming of since you were a little girl, planning out the perfect song selection and wondering what your future husband would look like. The moment you watched in countless movies with stars in your eyes, waiting for the day you would get to experience that magical occasion.

Never in a million years would you have thought a professional hockey player with a heart of gold would’ve been the man you fall for and decide to spend the rest of your life with.

Yet, it feels like each step you take towards the dance floor hand in hand with the love of your life is slower and slower.

“You okay, love?” Mat whispers, pulling you in towards him as the soft notes of the carefully selected song begin to play. Your arms settle over his shoulders as you meet his gaze that’s full of nothing but adoration.

“More than okay. Just can’t believe today is real. That this dance is really happening right now.” You admit as a blush spreads across your cheeks. 

The smile that blossoms across Mat’s face is a sight that you never ever want to forget. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon and stars, pure happiness on display across his handsome facial features. For the millionth time, you wonder how you are lucky enough to be the one who gets to love him for the rest of your lives. 

“Well, I can confirm that today is very real and we are in fact dancing to our dream first dance song in front of everyone who cares about us.” Mat says happily, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he continues to lead you around the dance floor. “But I can also confirm that it’s a little unreal that we’re married now and I love you more than anything else in this entire world.” 

Without either of you saying a word, you both know why this feels unbelievable. That fateful night a few years ago where Mat missed your birthday celebration and everything came crashing down in an instant. Then, you never could’ve predicted this is where you’d end up in the future. But you’re so grateful that it worked out the way it did.

You’re married to Mat. The man of your dreams. The one who has won your heart and made your life brighter by just existing. It’s both a shock but the best thing to ever happen to you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mat asks softly, lips brushing your temple as you continue to sway together. 

“This used to feel like a distant dream after everything that happened. But I’m so glad everything worked out in our favor because this is all I’ve ever wanted since we met.” You whisper, looking up at him. His hazel eyes are soft with love and your heart skips a beat just looking at him. Your husband.

“I never told you, but that was the moment I knew.” Mat replies, voice quiet but full of emotion. “That was when I knew you were the only one for me. I had a pretty good idea before everything happened, which was all my fault, but losing you like that was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Not having you by my side was my new worst nightmare and my heart was completely broken. But I knew when you ended the call that night, you were my everything and I was an idiot for messing it up. I knew being with you after that would be a stretch, but I am still eternally grateful that we found our way back to each other and are here right now.” 

Shock ripples through you as Mat’s admission processes in your mind. Through all these years, he’s never given an inkling that he went through all that pain after the breakup that night. But knowing that moment was when he realized he loved you more than anything and would do anything to get you back made a wave of emotions hit you all at once.

You raise a hand to his cheek and gently rub a thumb across his skin. Tears prick at the back of your eyes as you gaze at him. How lucky are you that the love of your life came back to you? After all the pain that happened from that one night, he learned from it, became a better person and brought the love you both deserve to life?

“Me too, you have no idea.” You murmur, an adoring smile blooming across your lips before leaning in to kiss Mat as if no one was watching.

Cheers erupt from the crowd watching the two of you dance which pulls you back to the present. The last notes of the song fade out and Mat spins you around just to finish the dance with a dramatic dip before kissing you once again. Nothing but pure happiness and love surrounds you as you try to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

“Want to know something?” You ask Mat while reaching for his hand to continue dancing as the space around you fills up with the guests who want to join in on the fun.

“Always, baby.” 

“This is the moment I know that I will be incredibly happy and loved for the rest of my life. Because I’m with you.”

And there you are, standing in your wedding dress with red lipstick on and everyone around you singing along to the song blasting through the speakers as the person who means the most to you stays by your side all night. The gold band on his left hand glittering in the light is a constant reminder that nothing is missing. In fact, it couldn’t be more perfect. 

[buttercupjosh]

The Perfect Proposal (the 4 times you expected that Mat was going to propose + the 1 time he actually did)

(Gif credit to @mattymartin)

word count: 1,968

genres: established relationship, fluff, self-insert

warnings: none

A/N: This story is based off of the song “Joy of My Life” by Chris Stapleton and I make references to this song throughout the story. I highly recommend listening to this song before reading my story. This story is short, sweet and fluffy. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set this upcoming season or even a past season). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. This is not a sequel to Your Favorite Secret (which you can still read and check out and if you want this to be a sequel to that, you can interpret it that way). As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“Someday it will come right on cue.” -Somewhere Love Is Waiting for You from the Schmigadoon TV series soundtrack

Prologue

Meeting Mat changed your life in the best way possible. You took Mat’s breath away when you met up for your very first date and since then, you continued to take his breath away in small doses every time you saw him. He added so much goodness and love into your life and you did the same for him. Mat felt so grateful to have you in his life and even though he made millions, being with you was his greatest treasure. You and Mat deeply appreciated each and every moment you had together, no matter how big or small it was; the two years that you had been together so far were some of your greatest times. You were both so smitten that you always looked at each other with such deep love and devotion and couldn’t get enough of your significant other’s presence. For a while, Mat knew that he wanted to propose to you but he just needed to figure out the best way how to and time when to ask that all-important question.

————————————————————

It finally happened. After 3 challenging years, you finally completed law school and earned your Juris Doctor degree from NYU. All of your friends and family came into town to celebrate your accomplishment. In order to accommodate everyone, Mat graciously rented a large AirBnb house in the Hamptons to host your graduation party. You handled some aspects of the party planning while Mat handled the rest and the party went very well. During the congratulations portion of the evening, Mat wanted to give a quick remark to acknowledge your achievement.

“For the past 2 years, I watched this wonderful person ambitiously work their way through law school. There were a lot of late nights, early mornings and so many case reviews and vocabulary study sessions that I think I could go get a law degree. Y/N, to say that I am proud of you is a massive understatement. My love, you are so amazing and you did it. I love you so much. Because I love you so much, I have a surprise for you.” Mat spoke.

This moment seemed like it was the right time for Mat to ask for your hand in marriage; you had been dating for a while, you lived together and blended your families together, and he had just finished a great speech that made all of the party’s attendees realize how much he was in love with you. Instead, Mat handed you an envelope. Inside the envelope was a copy of a check for the exact amount that you owed in student loans and a letter informing you that your loans were fully paid off. You couldn’t believe what was happening and began to cry.

“How did you do this?”, you mustered out through your tears of joy.

“So you know how you gave me access to your book of important information in case anything happened to you? Well, I asked Liana to call the loan office to pretend to be you and ask for your account balance”, Mat cheesily revealed.

Mat saw firsthand how much distress and frustration law school caused you so he wanted to help out someone he deeply loved by eliminating the stress of having to pay for a student loan; this surprise was better than an engagement ring.

————————————————————

After your graduation party and after the Islanders were eliminated from playoffs, it was the official start of the off-season. This year, it was a milestone birthday for Mat’s dad so the Barzal family decided to do a European summer vacation to celebrate. You were important enough to their family that you had been invited and Liana, Mat’s sister, also invited her best friend to accompany her on the trip.

Hand-in-hand with the man you considered to be the love of your life and his family, for 3 weeks, you explored England, France, Monaco, and Mat’s ancestral homeland of Italy. In England, you indulged in English culture while Mat hilariously attempted a British accent. In France, you shared plenty of kisses with your lover in the City of Love, swooning every time Mat spoke French. In Monaco, you and Mat felt like the protagonists of a spy thriller while hanging out in the city.

Once you arrived in Italy, you got to see a different side of Mat that rarely came out. He had been to Italy several times before but he was thrilled to share all that he knew about that special place with you. Mat glowed differently whenever you got authentic gelato together or when he swam in the waters along the Amalfi Coast. Of course, throughout the trip, you still spent plenty of time with Mat’s parents, sister, and her friend and attended a lovely birthday dinner on a boat for Mat’s dad while visiting Sicily.

On the plane ride traveling back to Canada after your whirlwind European tour, you thought to yourself that you were going to come back to North America with a new jewelry addition to your left hand; you did have a lot of date nights and one-on-one time with Mat on the trip. However, your wonderful boyfriend did get you a gorgeous Cartier love bracelet from the official store in Paris and you were returning back with the gift of good memories that were created with your future in-laws.

————————————————————

The remainder of the off-season went by so quickly; between weddings, summer holidays, and other events all happening, you and Mat were swept in so many different directions. Time flies when you’re having fun and soon, it was already time to return to Long Island for the hockey season.

The usual ups, downs, and chaos of the hockey season lingered in your household but you navigated through it together. As the season went on, you spent a lot of time studying for the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and Universal Bar Exam, which allowed you to become eligible to be admitted to the New York State Bar next year. Even though you had those responsibilities, you still supported Mat at most of his home games. One of the things about Mat that you loved was how he would always quietly tiptoe into your shared home after a late game but he loved how you always waited up for him to come home after every game, regardless of what time he returned. Before you both knew it, the year was winding down and it was almost Christmas time. You and Mat had decided to host Christmas this year and both of your families were coming. This wasn’t the first time that both of your families had been together to celebrate an occasion; they were there all together for your law school graduation earlier in the year and both sides enjoyed being together as one cohesive unit but for some reason, things felt different to you this holiday season.

You spent hours preparing and making sure that everything was right for the arrival of your guests. Christmas came and went wonderfully. It was so nice to have your families together during the holidays. You gifted Mat a new game day tie and a gift card to one of his favorite road restaurants; Mat got you a nice bag to carry all of your work things and a personalized padfolio for you to take all of your legal notes in.

Yes, you were secretly expecting a diamond underneath the tree this year but it was okay because you still got other great gifts as well. Despite wanting something else, you still deeply cherished the time you got to spend with your loved ones.

————————————————————

After the holidays were over, you and Mat settled back into your respective routines until it was All-Star Break. Mat was not chosen for the All-Star Game that year and some of the Islanders players and families decided to go to the Bahamas for their team All-Star Break trip. The time away gave you and Mat both some essential rest and relaxation. At the end of February, you were scheduled to take the Universal Bar Exam but you took a break from studying to enjoy your mini-vacation. You stayed with your lover and company at a phenomenal resort; you swam with dolphins, relaxed at the spa, and ate so much tasty food. You also enjoyed lots of group activities with Mat and his teammates and their respective significant others. During the trip, one of Mat’s best friends’, Anthony, and his long-term girlfriend, Emma got engaged. It stung a little to see someone else reach the relationship milestone you deeply desired to share with Mat and you had expected that it was going to be you and your lover’s turn to share that special romantic moment on this trip, however, you were happy for your friends.

————————————————————

One evening, you came home from a long, exhausting day of work. After passing both the Universal Bar Exam and Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and completing some other requirements, you were admitted to the New York State Bar last month and got a job as a junior attorney. It was a pleasant surprise to see Mat cooking; he was subtly singing in the kitchen and tenderly caring for some handmade pasta. You couldn’t quite make out what song Mat was singing but it didn’t matter what it was because you had caught him singing songs that you’ve played around the house and pop songs from the radio plenty of times before. You smiled to yourself as watched him in his element before slipping away for a much-needed shower.

After you came out of the shower and changed, there was a beautiful plate of pasta waiting for you on the table. Mat tapped deep into his Italian heritage and made a delectable dinner for the two of you. You shared with Mat the details of work and although, he may not quite fully understand everything you were expressing your feelings about, he still listened to you as you rambled on. After dinner concluded, you and Mat were going to share a box of bakery cannolis and watch a movie on the couch but Mat told you to wait at the table and suddenly got up. He returned to the room with a look of nervousness on his face. You asked Mat if he was okay but you could tell that he had something important to say.

“I’ve been holding onto this ring for a while. There were so many other times that I wanted to ask but there’s just something that feels so right about this moment. Sitting here, I realized something very important. I want to spend the rest of my life, making you dinner when I can and listening to you speak. I want to continue to come home from my games to you and wake up next to you. I have the greatest honor of knowing and loving you. You have the sweetest heart that’s made of gold and you are like an angel brought down to Earth from Heaven. I want to be by your side forever. Y/N, you are the joy of my life. Will you marry me?” Mat declared while holding out the engagement ring of your dreams in a Tiffany blue box.

You were speechless because Mat was right; this was the perfect moment. You looked straight into Mat’s green eyes that you admired so dearly and accepted his marriage proposal; you were both super excited to embark on this new journey in your relationship. You and Mat swayed with each other to the sound of your fiance’s voice, serenading you to “Joy Of My Life” by Chris Stapleton, the same song Mat was singing to himself earlier. Patience was an important virtue and all of that waiting paid off at the right time.

[pucksandpower]

Everyone shut up, my favorite goalie just scored his first goal 🥹

[v6quewrlds]

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

❝ guilty conscience, m. barzal. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

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

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

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

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 3.6k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was all so raw, so primal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[residenthughes]

slow sundays - mat barzal

pairing: mat barzal x gender neutral reader

word count: 1k

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, no mention of y/n

summary: any day spent with barzal is always good, especially sundays.

notes: a little something i wrote when i should have been sleeping, oops! may write a longer version, may not but i'll definitely write up something else longer for barzy, as well as some other fics that i've started and am very excited to share, hehe! as always, hope this finds u well and that you enjoy this small ball of fluff. much love! <3

oh! forgot to mention, this post is inspired by this post by @novelbear! they spoil tumblr rotten with such adorable prompts! :)

Sundays are your favourite days of the week. The normal anxieties that creep in from a long lived weekend cease to exist in your timeline, a day defined by slow sweetness and sacred serenity. This year you’ve really lucked out with said day, most of Mat’s games scheduled another time and on the off chance he has practice, it’s before you can even pry yourself from the comfort of your cloud-like mattress. This is one of those Sundays, where you’re tucked away in citrus scented sheets, fast asleep as Mat presses a tender kiss on the bridge of your nose before he goes off to do what he does best, leaving you to emerge from your cocoon whenever you please.

You decide shortly after Mat departs to desert the covers, arranging them neatly with a sleepy pout set onto your puffy lips before starting your share of morning chores. Amidst the array of bits and bobs you cater to around your cosy home, you cook up a breakfast built for two - piping hot and ready to eat by the time Mat’s car pulls up the driveway. 

You drape your arms lazily around his nape, beaming a lovesick grin as you peck your long-time lover. “Good practice?”

“Great practice,” he breathes against you, minty fresh with the faint waft of his accompanying cologne. His strong arms pull you impossibly closer, your body snug in his embrace. “But I’ve got better things waiting for me right here.”

His large hands cup a handful of your butt, giving it a cheeky squeeze that involuntarily makes you jump against him, your cheeks crimsoning. “And to think, that’s the thanks I get for making us breakfast.”

Mat releases his grip as you back away, disbelief washing all over his sculpted features as he gives you a cocked eyebrow and a petty laugh. “Says the one who-”

Your hand comes up, an index finger raised. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Wordlessly, Mat holds his hands up in surrender, brazen-faced as you send him an eye-roll with crossed arms. Despite the circumstances, your hands find the top of his zipper, opening up his coat before you hang it up near the door in perfect routine. The selfless action still warrants one of your favourite kisses from your boyfriend, kisses from side-to-side - a kiss on the cheek, nose and cheek again. A simple action but one that robs you of all oxygen, a lightness in your limbs and a tingle down your spine. You soon turn around with Mat trailing not far behind as you venture back to your spacious kitchen, settling at the quaint table for two - a single vase rose separating your plates packed with all your breakfast favourites.

Before you have the chance to take your seat at your baby blue painted table, Mat comes up from behind you, cradling you in his sugary embrace as he plants a delicate kiss against your temple, your heart overflowing with the magic of your slow Sundays together. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You hum blissfully, a hand delicate against his stubble-ridden cheek as you simply exist together, limbs tangled as you savour the moment like sand slipping through your fingertips. A quick kiss against Mat’s prickly cheek puts a pause on the moment, your grin giddy as your hand takes Mat’s as you direct him to sit, which he does - no questions asked, fuschia dusted upon the apples of his cheeks.

You fall into perfect routine, your brunch a show that consists of all your favourites: Mat’s cutlery glimmering in the soft rays pouring into the windowed kitchen as he cuts his food, ceremoniously offering you the first bite of his food with the same smitten closed mouth smile that he had the first day he met you. Happily, you accept his generous offer and take a bite, beaming with full rosy cheeks as he swipes the crumbs with such an earnest shimmer in his eyes that it makes your heart squeeze with joy.

Your brunch continues in similar fashion, two enamoured partners basking in the company of another as you bond over a hearty plate of food, time lost in endless dialogues and timeless ‘I love you’s. When there’s nothing but crumbs speckled across your ceramic plates, Mat shoos you away before you can get a protest in, you resorting to sulking on the edge of couch as the sounds of plates clinking together competes with the noise coming from the TV. 

When everything’s said and done, the washing up dried and packed away, Mat shuffles into the lounge, falling into the couch with a grunt as he positions himself as close to you as possible. You can never bring yourself to mind, head falling to his broad shoulder once he’s propped his feet against the hickory coffee table with his arm circling your shoulders. Another kiss atop your head tells you he’s settled and you melt into his side, no objections sounding from your long-time boyfriend as reruns of 'The Bachelor' blare from the TV. If anything, Mat immerses just as much as you. Well, as much as the slightly fatigue man can as his fingers absently fiddle with locks of your hair, the gesture a lullaby that aids your sudden drowsiness that links hands with the warmth emitting from Mat’s body that always fits against yours like a puzzle piece.

Before you’re able to drift away into a shallow slumber, a slumber you both shall share prior to your simple plans for the day, Mat’s sleep-laced voice calls out to you. 

“Waking up next to you is the best part of my day.”

And you chuckle softly because of the simple fact you know this to be true - evidenced in the way affirmations of love fall so easily from his lips, in the way he never allows you to walk near any busy roads and buys you flowers just because. And, best of all, when your precious Sunday comes and goes, your Monday view consists of your beautiful boyfriend as you reverse out of your driveway, a sleepy smile mellowed into his features as he sees you off, hollering one and the same line wishing you a great day at work, which is nothing but granted if you’ve got him by your side. 

[katgeckost]

cutie pie🫦

[papis13]

BARZY GIRLS FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR!!!!!

[stars1997]

Pls write for mat Barzal I love you work!!!

Dinner date

Paring(s): Mat Barzal x reader

Warnings: I didn't know if you wanted smut. i did write some but i added a warning so don't read past the warning if your not looking to read smut. smut, fingering, oral,

Summary: Mat and you go out on a date. you end up at a sports pub that has a pool table and Mat teaches you how to play pool.

“Honey! Are you almost ready?” Mat calls out to you. you warp the last uncurled strand of hair around the curling iron.

“I’m finishing up my hair. I’ll be right out, give me like five more minutes.” you remove the hair form the curling iron, spraying it with hair spray so hit holds it curl.

You adjust your dress and look in the mirror making sure that your makeup is exactly how you want it.

You walk out of the bathroom and make your way to the living room. You found Mat sitting on the couch. He looks up from his phone a smile spreads across his face when his eyes meet yours.

You give him a little spin, showing off your dress to him. he stands up taking your hands in his.

“You look beautiful. So, fucking beautiful.”  He pulls you into him. his hands move to your waist before reaching around to grab your butt making you giggle. “You should wear this dress more often.” He gives you butt a slap before kissing you on the lips.

“So, what is the plan for tonight?” he didn’t respond, he just grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.

-

You and Mat have been out all day. He took you to all your favorite places to go shopping. You’re holding about six bags wail Mat is holding about six more. you and mat don’t do big dates like this often that’s why when you do get the chance, he loves to spoil you with whatever you want.

Normally date nights consist of staying at home and watching a movie, then falling asleep on the couch. you love those nights just as much as you love the more extravagant date nights.

-

Mat and you are now out at dinner. It was some cute little hole in the wall sports pub. The pub wasn’t that crowed yet. You ordered your food. You both got a burger.

You hand the waiter the menus giving him a small thank you before he walked off. You look back over at Mat his eyes already on you.

“I’m so glad you finally have a day off.” You reach your hands across the table to grab his. He rubs his thumbs across the back of your hands.

“I’m just glad I get to spend my day with you.” he lifts your hands giving them a kiss. You and Mat talked about everything from the game that he played yesterday to soothing that happed to you at work a few days ago. The time seem to go by fast.

The waiter dropped off your food. Mat was quick to start eating his burger. You reach over and take one of his onion rings before picking up your burger and taking a bite.

He gave you a small smile before pushing his plate a little closer to you knowing that that won’t be the last onion ring you will be taking from him.

You look around the restaurant, your eyes scanning over all the TVs and the sports art that’s hanging on the wall. You look at the people sitting at the tables enjoying their food before your eyes landed on a pool table in the back of the restaurant.

“Oh cool! They have a pool table.” You pointed it out to Mat.

“When were done eating we should play.” You nod your head yes as you take a sip of your lemonade.

-

The later it got the more packed the restaurant became. You and Mat finished eating a little bit ago. Now Mat has been trying to teach you how to play pool.

“I can’t believe that you don’t know how to play pool.” Mat lined up his pool que with the white ball. Mat needed to get the 8 ball in to win the game.

“Hey! don’t make fun of me. I was just never taught how to play.” Mat hits the white ball, the white ball then hitting the 8-ball making it roll right into the top left corner pocket.

“It’s no point. You just going to win every game.” You let out a huff. Mat set the balls back up before walking over to you.

“How about I teach you.” He put his pool cue back in its holder before he took your hand and pulled you in front of him. His chest now pressed into your back. He moves you so your now leaned over the table, helping you adjust the cue to line up with the white ball.

You push your hips back into him, trying to get more comfortable and he lets out a grunt. He pulls your arm back then pushes it forward hitting the white ball into the others, breaking the triangle.

“See it’s not that hard. You just need to aim and know how much force you should use to be able to make the balls move.” You turn around and throw your arms around his neck giving him a kiss on the lips.

-

Mat took some more time teaching you how to play. It took a few tries but now your able to play without his help.

“We should get one for the house.” You look at him with a huge smile on your face as the last of your balls just went into one of the pockets.

“Just a minute ago you were hating it. But yes, we should get one for the house.” He laughs moving back over to you leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“If we get one for the house in going to bend you over it. You have been driving me crazy all night in this dress. Not to mention when you would grind your ass against me earlier. Fuck I need you so bad.” you plant a kiss on his cheek, leaving a lipstick mark. you take his pool cue and lay it down on the table before doing the same with yours.

“Well, I think we better get out of here. I’m starting to get bored, and I might have an idea on what we can do to fix that.” You wink at him before you grab his hand and pull him out of the restaurant.

-

(Smut below this line)

_______________________________

The drive home felt long. You played with Mats fingers the whole ride, picking at them, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss them. You needed them in you.

You took his hand and placed it on your chest right above your boobs, your hand over his as you drag it down your chest to your stomach, right above your underwear. You look over at him in the driver’s seat. The knuckles on his other hand are white due to the grip he has on the steering wheel.

You use your other hand to bunch up your dress before slipping his hand into your panties. you run his fingers over your clit.

“Fuck Mat. Please I need you.” you slide his fingers lower and slide two of them into you. a moan slips past your lips.

“Yes, Mat. Oh fuck. Your fingers feel so good.” at this point your riding his fingers. You could feel yourself reaching your high quicker than you wanted to, but you just let it happen.

Mat moved his fingers away from you when he knew you have come down form your high. You breathe heavy for a second before getting on your knees in the passenger seat, facing Mat. You bring your hands down to unbutton his pants pulling his hard cock out of his pants.

You lean forward spiting on the tip of his cock before stoking him a few times. Your lips wrap around his tip sucking on him for a second before taking the rest of his cock in your mouth.

He brings down one of his hands to your head griping your hair. His hips lift off the seat for a second making the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, holy shit. I love your mouth so much.” you move your head faster on his cock, hollowing out your cheeks.

“Shit you just put your mouth on me and I’m already going to cum.” He lets out a grunt before releasing in your mouth.

“Oh, I am so buying a pool table when we get home.” You giggle in response kissing him on the cheek before sitting back down in your seat. You turn on the radio and sing along to the songs for the rest of the ride.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Eventually

Requested: no

Pairing: Mat Barzal x reader

Words: 5k

Warning(s): none

It was one of those perfect fall evenings in Long Island — the kind where the air is crisp, but not cold, and the sky burns soft orange before fading into navy. I was halfway through curling the last section of my hair when the door creaked open behind me.

"Going somewhere fancy?" That voice — smooth, familiar — drifted in from the hallway.

I didn’t even have to look. “Don’t you knock anymore, Barzy?”

Mathew leaned against the doorframe, that cocky half-grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Didn’t know I needed to. Still practically family, right?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on the curling iron and not the fact that he was looking at me through the mirror. “Dinner. Just... dinner.”

He stepped into the room, arms crossed over his chest, wearing one of his usual all-black fits — joggers, hoodie, backward cap. Casual, effortlessly him.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

I hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough that he noticed.

“Tyler,” I said, turning off the iron. “You’ve met him. He plays baseball at Hofstra.”

Mathew didn’t respond right away. Just stared for a beat too long. Then he nodded once and gave me a soft smile — one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That guy,” he said, almost to himself. “Yeah. Cool.”

He turned to leave, like it was no big deal, like we hadn’t grown up sneaking popsicles on the porch or dancing like idiots in my kitchen to ‘80s music. Like he hadn’t once told me, half-drunk on New Year’s, that he’d marry me if we were both single at thirty.

“Matty,” I said, voice catching. He paused, one hand on the doorframe.

“It’s just one date.”

He didn’t turn around, but his voice was low when he spoke. “It’s all right. I know that in the end…” He finally turned to look at me — eyes soft, unreadable. “We’ll be together.”

Then he was gone. And I just stood there in my room, heart thudding like a war drum, wondering when exactly everything between us got so complicated.

Tyler met me outside the restaurant, leaning casually against his car with a bouquet of wildflowers — not roses, not something cliché. Actual wildflowers. And maybe it was just the night air or the fact that I was still replaying Mathew’s words, but I felt something shift.

“You look beautiful,” Tyler said, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Thank you.” I smiled — it wasn’t forced.

Dinner was easy. Effortless, even. Tyler was funny in a laid-back, clever kind of way. He didn’t try too hard. He didn’t ask about Mathew — though I caught the moment he registered the name when the hostess greeted me like she knew me and casually asked, “How’s Mat? He hasn’t been in with you lately.”

Tyler just smiled through it. No jealousy. No weird tension. Just… cool.

And I liked that. I liked that he wasn’t from my past, that he wasn’t tangled up in family history or backyard hockey games or shared inside jokes from a decade ago. Tyler didn’t know that I broke my wrist trying to impress Mathew on rollerblades when I was twelve. He didn’t know how Mathew always made me pancakes after a breakup. Or that he kissed me once on a dare — and once when he really meant it.

Tyler just knew me, right now.

After dinner, we walked by the water. The breeze whipped a little too hard for my dress, but I didn’t care. Tyler offered me his jacket. I didn’t say no.

And when he kissed me under the streetlight, soft and slow — not demanding, not overthinking — I didn’t stop him. I kissed him back, because it felt right. And maybe it wasn't the fireworks I’d always imagined with Mathew, but it was something else: real. New. Warm in a different way.

But as soon as I stepped into my room later that night, the jacket still draped over my shoulders, the doubt crept in. The memory of Mathew’s voice echoed in my mind like a haunting:

“It’s all right. I know that in the end, we’ll be together.”

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my phone, thumb hovering over his name. Because suddenly, I didn’t know if I wanted him to be right… or if I wanted to prove him wrong.

I didn’t see Mathew for two days after the date.

Which might not sound like a big deal — except it was. We were always bumping into each other. Grabbing coffee, crashing each other’s family dinners, him showing up uninvited with leftover sushi and a stupid movie in hand. And now, nothing.

No texts. No random memes. No sarcastic “morning, sunshine” snap. Just… silence.

I told myself it was fine. He was busy — Islanders season was ramping up, he had practices, media days, workouts. But still, when I walked into my parents’ place for Sunday dinner and saw him already there — wearing that familiar grey hoodie, sitting at the counter like he belonged (because he kind of did) — something tightened in my chest.

His eyes met mine. Just for a second. Then flicked away. Cool. Casual. Like he hadn’t told me two nights ago that he thought we were endgame.

I swallowed hard and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was low, unreadable. “Tyler not coming?”

So he knew. Of course he knew.

I shook my head. “No, he had plans. Family stuff.”

Mathew just nodded and went back to chopping vegetables, knife tapping against the cutting board like he had something to prove. I busied myself helping my mom, but I could feel it — the tension humming under the surface, like an electric wire between us. It wasn’t just awkward. It was... off.

Later, while everyone was outside watching the game around the firepit, I stepped into the kitchen for a drink. I wasn’t surprised when I heard him behind me.

“You okay?”

I turned, finding him leaning against the fridge, arms crossed.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been weird,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Quiet. Different.”

I scoffed lightly. “Different how?”

Mathew shrugged, but there was heat behind his voice now. “I don’t know. Like your head’s somewhere else. Like maybe you’re trying really hard to pretend you’re not.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. He took a step closer, and my heart started doing that annoying skip it always did around him.

“I saw you guys,” he said, voice softer now. “Downtown. After dinner. Looked like it went well.”

I swallowed. “It did.”

He nodded again — slow, resigned. “Right.”

There was silence, heavy and strange.

And then, without looking at me, he added quietly, “I just thought if it ever happened… if you ever felt something for someone else… I’d feel it. Like I’d know.”

I felt my breath hitch. He finally met my eyes. “But you’re not just into him, are you?”

God, why did he have to say it like that? I blinked, suddenly not trusting my own voice.

“Matty…”

He stepped back, like he’d pushed too far. “Forget it. I’m being dramatic.”

“No, you’re not. I just…” I trailed off, arms crossed, the weight of everything crashing in at once. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Okay? I don’t know.”

He gave a sad little smile. “You always used to say you hated love triangles.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t know I’d end up in one.”

(Flashback)

It was the middle of January — freezing outside, the kind of cold that cracks your skin and makes your breath visible even indoors if the windows leak just enough. Mathew had just flown back from a West Coast road trip. I’d picked him up from the airport because his car was snowed in and no one else wanted to make the drive that late.

We ended up back at my place around midnight.

Not because we planned to.

Because we didn’t want to say goodnight yet.

We were sitting on my couch, legs tangled under a shared blanket, some movie neither of us was really watching playing in the background. He looked exhausted — eyes heavy, hoodie pulled low, hair still damp from the snow melting off him.

“Want tea or something?” I’d asked, half-rising from the couch.

He reached out and grabbed my wrist gently. “Stay.”

Just that. One word.

So I stayed.

It got quiet. The kind of quiet that has a pulse.

Mathew’s eyes didn’t leave mine. And suddenly the distance between us felt like nothing. His hand was still on my wrist, his thumb brushing back and forth like it belonged there.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke.

He just said, voice barely audible, “You know, sometimes I think I blew it. That I should’ve said something a long time ago.”

I blinked. “Said what?”

His jaw tightened. “That maybe I wasn’t just your friend. That maybe I wanted more.”

I don’t know what I expected. But it wasn’t that.

My heart was doing somersaults in my chest, and I couldn’t breathe for a second. He leaned in just slightly — not enough to kiss me, not really. But enough to feel his breath, to catch the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

I didn’t move.

Not forward. Not back.

I froze.

“Matty…” I whispered, unsure of what came next.

He gave me a soft smile — one that hurt. “It’s okay. I’m not trying to screw things up. Just... had to say it once.”

And then he pulled away. Laid his head back on the couch cushion. Closed his eyes like nothing had happened.

We never talked about it again.

But I remembered every second of that night.

Especially now.

(Flashback over)

Tyler picked me up for lunch on Tuesday. He had that same easy energy that had drawn me in from the start — soft confidence, worn-in hoodie, eyes that smiled before his lips did.

“How’s your week going?” he asked as we slid into a booth at this tucked-away sandwich spot by campus.

“Busy,” I said, brushing hair behind my ear. “Family stuff. Some work things.”

I didn’t mention the fact that I’d spent the last two nights lying in bed, replaying a moment from almost four months ago — Mathew’s voice in the dark, the weight of everything unspoken between us.

Tyler nodded like he got it. “I’m glad we’re doing this. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

“I have too,” I said. And it wasn’t a lie. But it also wasn’t the whole truth.

He smiled, reached across the table, and laced his fingers through mine. “You’ve got this energy about you,” he said. “It’s kind of… intense. Like you’re carrying a storm around, but trying really hard to keep it quiet.”

My breath caught — because how do you explain that the storm has a name?

He was still talking, gentle and curious. “I like it, though. It makes me want to know what’s underneath it. What gets you that way.”

I blinked, trying to push down the ache in my chest. “What if I don’t even know?”

“Then I’ll figure it out with you.”

He said it like a promise. Solid. Sweet. The kind of thing I would’ve swooned over a year ago.

But all I could think about was that night in January. Mathew’s fingers brushing my wrist. The crack in his voice when he said he wasn’t just my friend. And the worst part?

The way I hadn’t stopped thinking about that moment since Tyler mentioned the storm.

Because Mathew saw it too — long before Tyler ever noticed. He saw the whole storm. He was part of it.

I looked at Tyler, this sweet, steady guy who said the right things and looked at me like I mattered.

And all I could think was: Why isn’t it enough to let go of Mathew?

Why is part of me still stuck in a night we never talk about, in a promise I never made, in a kiss that never happened?

I squeezed Tyler’s hand. “I’m really glad we’re doing this too.”

And I meant it. Even if my heart was somewhere else entirely.

It was raining the next time I saw him. Not the kind of romantic drizzle that makes you want to dance in it — the real kind. Cold. Relentless. Soaking.

I was leaving the bookstore on Main when I spotted him across the street, hood pulled low, hands shoved in his pockets like he didn’t care that he was getting drenched. He didn’t wave. Just started walking toward me. By the time he reached the awning, I was already soaked from the knees down, clutching my tote bag like a shield.

“Matty—”

“I saw you.”

No preamble. No hesitation. Just three words, dropped like a stone in water.

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t look angry. That was the worst part. His expression was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes right before everything breaks.

“That night. After dinner. By the water. I was driving back from the rink. I wasn’t following you or anything, I just—” He ran a hand through his wet hair, frustrated. “I saw you kiss him.”

I swallowed, throat tight. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoed, voice sharp now. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Matty?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the truth?” He took a step closer, rain dripping off the edge of his hoodie. “Tell me you didn’t feel anything. Tell me it didn’t mess with your head. Because it sure as hell messed with mine.”

I looked down, then back up at him. “Of course it did. But I didn’t owe you anything.”

That landed like a slap. He stepped back, jaw clenched.

“You’re right,” he said after a beat, voice low. “You don’t owe me a damn thing. But I thought—” He exhaled hard. “I thought maybe after everything… I deserved to know if I ever had a shot.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “You did. Maybe you still do.”

His eyes flicked up to mine — searching, like he didn’t trust what he’d heard. “Then why him?”

“Because he made things simple,” I admitted. “Because I was tired of wondering what we were. Because he didn’t make me feel like I was holding my breath all the time.”

He let that sink in. Nodded slowly, like he was filing it away for later.

“And me?” he asked, quieter now. “What do I make you feel?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because the truth? He made me feel like standing in the middle of a thunderstorm and laughing. Like being seen without having to speak. Like home and chaos and that one breathless second before a rollercoaster drops.

“Too much,” I finally whispered. “You make me feel too much.”

Mathew didn’t say anything. Just reached out, brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek, and let his fingers linger for a moment longer than they should’ve. Then he stepped back.

“I’ll wait,” he said, voice steady. “As long as it takes. I’ll wait until you’re not scared of too much anymore.” And then he turned and walked back into the rain.

Leaving me on the sidewalk, heart pounding, soaked to the bone — and somehow, still burning.

I didn’t plan it.

Well — not really.

I knew the Islanders had a home game that night. Knew where to park without getting towed. Knew the guard at the side entrance of the arena well enough to get a pass if I smiled just right and said I was meeting Mathew.

What I didn’t know — couldn��t have planned — was how my heart would react the second I stepped into the cold concrete halls. Like muscle memory. Like my body knew this place because it knew him.

The game was winding down by the time I slid into an empty seat behind the glass. He was out on the ice, fast and sharp and maddeningly focused — the way he always was. Every movement, every shift, was electric. And all I could think about was that little kid from our backyard, skating circles in his socks, asking me if he looked like a pro.

I waited until the buzzer sounded and the crowd started filing out before heading down the tunnel. One of the staffers recognized me and waved me through with a wink.

“He’ll be out in a few,” the guy said. “He always takes forever.”

“Yeah,” I smiled softly. “I know.”

I didn’t mean to listen. Not at first. I was standing just around the corner, outside the locker room, when I heard his voice — unmistakable, even muffled through the concrete.

“I don’t know, man,” he said, and I could tell he was tired. Not physically — emotionally. “Everyone keeps saying it’s easy. That it’ll pass. That there are other fish in the sea.”

A pause. Someone mumbled something back, but she couldn’t catch it.

Then Mathew again, sharper this time — almost like he was laughing at himself.

“How long does love hurt?” he asked. “Why isn’t it just over? How long? A week? A year? Forever? I don’t know.”

Silence.

“I wish I didn’t still look for her in every crowd. Wish I didn’t check my phone twenty times a day for something she’s probably never gonna send.”

My heart lodged in her throat.

“She kissed someone else. I saw it. I know. And I still —” He stopped. Took a shaky breath. “I still feel like she’s mine. How messed up is that?”

I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. Because hearing it — not in a fight, not in a moment charged with tension, but like this, raw and broken and just true — it undid me.

Someone else said something again. Joking, maybe. Trying to lighten it. But Mathew’s voice stayed soft.

“I loved her before I even knew what love was.”

And just like that, my feet moved. I turned around. Walked back the way I came and fast, because suddenly I wasn’t ready. Not for that kind of truth. Not for a love that deep and aching and honest. But just as I rounded the corner, I heard my name.

“Hey—” His voice, closer now. “Wait. You were here?”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned back.

He was standing in the hallway, half out of his gear, flushed from the game and still breathing hard — but his eyes were wide. Shocked.

“How much did you hear?”

I opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then: “Enough.”

Silence stretched between them, thick as ice.

“I was going to surprise you,” I admitted, voice trembling. “Say hi. Maybe talk. But…”

“But you heard everything instead.”

I nodded.

He looked down, ran a hand through his damp hair, then met my eyes again.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear it like that.”

“But you meant it.”

A beat. Then: “Yeah. I did.”

And I didn’t know what to do with that — with the ache in his voice, with the fire still burning in my chest from words that weren’t even meant for my ears.

So I stepped forward.

Just once.

“Matty…”

And this time, he didn’t pull away.

I didn’t text Mathew after that night.

Not because I didn’t want to, because I did want to. More than anything. But some truths need time to settle before they can breathe.

Instead, the next morning, I met Tyler for coffee.

He was already at the café when I arrived, sitting by the window, sipping something iced. He looked like comfort — familiar, easy. The kind of guy you’re supposed to want.

“Hey, you,” he smiled, standing to greet me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Just tired. Long night.”

He didn’t press. Just handed me a muffin and pointed to the drink he’d ordered for me — not my usual, not quite right, but close enough that it would’ve passed a week ago. Now, I noticed.

We took our drinks to go, walking aimlessly down the street. I waited, like always, for him to reach for my hand. He didn’t.

We passed through the glass door of a bookstore, and he let it fall shut behind him without glancing back. I caught it with one hand. It was nothing — a tiny detail. But it stuck.

Mathew always held the door. Always paused, always looked back. Even when they were barely more than kids. Even when they were mad at each other.

I shook the thought loose. Kept walking. Tyler pointed out a new sandwich place, cracked a joke about my inability to choose food when I was hungry, told me a story about his roommate’s weird late-night baking habit.

I laughed. Smiled. Played along but everything felt… off. Not bad. Just not right.

He didn’t glance sideways when we crossed the street — didn’t automatically shift to the outside like Mathew did every time, without thinking. He didn’t ask about my writing, or whether I’d started reading that book he recommended weeks ago.

I realized — slowly, quietly, achingly — that Tyler saw the version of me I showed on the surface. And he liked me.

But Mathew?

Mathew saw the chaos underneath. The cracks. The storm. And he still chose me.

Every time.

By the time we circled back toward my place, I was quiet. Lost in thoughts I didn’t want to voice, yet.

“You okay?” Tyler asked again, reaching for my hand this time. I let him take it. But the warmth didn’t settle the ache in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just thinking.”

He smiled. “Don’t overthink it. We’re good, right?”

I looked at him. Really looked.

He was kind. He was steady. He was everything I thought I wanted.

And he wasn’t Mathew.

My voice was gentle. “I need some time. Just to figure stuff out.”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded slowly. “Okay. I get it.”

And maybe he did. Or maybe he just didn’t see the storm at all.

It was nearly midnight when I got home.

The city outside my window was quiet — not silent, but soft. A kind of hush that only came with the late hours. The hum of a distant car, the occasional bark of a dog down the block, the low whir of the heater kicking on.

I kicked off my shoes and sat on the floor, back against the wall, lights off.

No distractions. No Tyler. No Mathew. Just me and the echo of everything unsaid.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and rested my head against the wall, staring into the dark like it might answer me.

This was the part no one talks about — the in-between. The space after the fall but before the leap. The part where you sit with the ache and ask yourself the questions you’ve been avoiding.

Did I love Tyler?

Not really.

I liked the idea of him. The simplicity. The safety. The fact that he didn’t come with a history I couldn’t rewrite.

But he never really saw me. Not all of me.

And Mathew?

God, Mathew knew me. Every version. Every messy, stubborn, loud, impossible version.

He saw through my silence, read between every sentence, held space for feelings I hadn’t even named yet.

He saw me. And it terrified me.

Because what if he saw too much? What if he was right — that they were endgame — and I still blew it?

My fingers traced the edge of the mug on the floor beside me, now cold. The steam had long since faded, but the ghost of warmth clung to the ceramic.

I thought about that night on the couch in January. The way his thumb had moved across my wrist like it belonged there. The way he’d said, “I wanted more,” like it was a confession and a promise all at once.

I thought about his voice in the locker room — quiet, cracked. Asking the universe how long love was supposed to hurt.

And I knew.

I wasn’t choosing between two guys anymore. This wasn’t about Tyler or Mathew.

This was about me.

Choosing to stop being afraid of the things that mattered most. Of loving someone who had always loved me back, even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I was scared.

I whispered it into the silence, just to see how it felt.

“I love him.”

The words didn’t echo. They didn’t need to.

They just settled. Like truth.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, I let myself believe that it wasn’t too late.

It was raining again.

Of course it was. Same kind of rain as the night he saw me — steady, cold, and inconvenient. But I didn’t hesitate this time. I grabbed my coat, keys in hand before I could second guess, before doubt could talk me out of it.

The drive was short, muscle memory more than anything. I didn’t even have to think — I knew where he’d be.

His apartment was lit up when I pulled in. Warm light spilling out the window, familiar shadows dancing across the curtains. My heart thudded like it was announcing my arrival before I even got to the door.

I stood there for a second. Just breathing. Just feeling.

Then knocked.

It took a few beats. I heard movement inside — the scrape of a stool, a soft curse, the sound of feet padding across hardwood.

Then the door opened.

Mathew blinked at me, shirt rumpled, hair damp like he’d just showered. His eyes went wide, and then softened, like seeing me broke something in him and put it back together in the same breath.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey.”

We stood there like that — silence stretching, comfortable and unbearable all at once.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he added.

“I wasn’t sure either,” I said honestly. “But then I realized I’ve spent so long being scared of the wrong things.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

So I stepped closer. One breath. One truth at a time.

“I heard what you said. In the locker room.”

He looked down. Embarrassed. “Yeah. That wasn’t meant for you.”

“I know,” I said. “But I’m glad I heard it.”

That got his attention. His eyes met mine — guarded, but hopeful. Always hopeful.

I took a shaky breath.

“Matty… I’ve been trying so hard to move on. To feel something else. To prove that maybe you were wrong — that maybe we weren’t written into each other’s bones the way it always felt.”

I swallowed. My voice was trembling now.

“But no matter what I do, no matter how far I run — I still come back to you. I still feel you in every song, in every quiet, in every moment that should feel complete but doesn’t.”

Mathew stepped back slightly, like he needed to steady himself. Like my words knocked the air out of him.

“I love you,” I said, finally. “And I think I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve known how to admit it.”

Silence.

Then, slowly — painfully — he spoke.

“You mean that?”

I nodded, eyes shining. “I do.”

He stared at me like he was memorizing the moment. Then he reached out, gently, like I was something fragile. Like he couldn’t believe I was really standing in front of him.

His hand found mine.

And just like that — all the noise, all the years of almost and maybe and not-yet — finally quieted.

“I never stopped,” he said softly. “Loving you.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I think that’s what scared me.”

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t fireworks. It was something steadier.

Like rain on the roof.

Like a promise finally kept.

Like home.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Taste — Mat Barzal

Synopsis; In which Mat Barzal’s long term girlfriend tastes you forever.

Content Warnings; mentions of sex, kinda emotional cheating if you squint, mentions of Maya Adler

Mat Barzal hadn’t gone to a club on a Friday night in over 4 years. However he was reeling from a breakup or maybe it was a break, it didn’t really matter to Mat. All he wanted was to get drunk and flirt with a woman he had no intention of taking home. However he didn’t account for the stroke of luck that you happened to be at the same club in upper Manhattan on the same night.

You weren’t necessarily looking for anything more than a casual hookup to keep you distracted from the fact that all your friends were settling down and you had no intention of settling down any time soon. You were young, attractive and an amazing actress, you didn’t want to settle. So you spent the night at a lavish club in upper Manhattan staking out your target.

You knew the second you saw him enter the club; ridiculously attractive, tall, tanned, messy brown hair pushed back messily, a black button up slightly unbuttoned. And the icing on the cake was the fact he seemed extremely confident. You smirk to yourself as you watch him sit at the bar and get comfortable. You slid from the barstool you sat in and approached the empty seat next to him.

You lean against the bar and wait for the bartender to approach. When she does you order a cherry vodka sour. You drank the drink as the song blaring through the club changed to a fast paced seductive sounding song, you leaned on the bar, “Dance with me.” The man looked at you bewildered for a brief second, “Okay.” Mar ended up taking you home that night. As weeks passed you and Mat grew close.

Many of his tshirts and hoodies came up missing and Mat knew where they were disappearing to. There were many nights where Mat ignored the pre-established rule of no sleeping over and asked you to stay the night. There were countless times where you and Mat didn’t quite make it to his bed so you decided that his living room floor was good enough. Mat began to pick up on your humor and steal your jokes.

A few weeks had passed since you had seen Mat last and you had taken notice of how his instagram had transformed to the Instagram of a man in a long term serious relationship. You knew he was back with his long term girlfriend, Maya. You didn’t really care, you weren’t looking for anything serious. However Mat Barzal was a picture of guilt whenever Maya asked about the missing clothes from Mat’s closet, his new sense of humor and his newfound desire to have sex on the living room floor. She sure as hell noticed the taste of cherry vodka sours on her boyfriends lips. Mat Barzal had gotten a taste of you and ingrained the closest thing to having you into his relationship

[satrnretrnsintrlude]

HELLOOOOO??? IS THIS NEW?? I THOUGHT IT WAS OLD?? WHATEVER IT IS, I’M ON THE FLOOR

the way he’s swayin. he knows EXACTLYYYY WHAT HE GOT BACK THEREEE

[misschino]

DONT YOU DARE CUT YOUR HAIR!!

[katgeckost]

Liana we love you deeply🫶🏻♥️ (2/2)