#please the way mat hits beau

[rosesvioletshardy]

NYIslanders: Gave ourselves a chance

[izzylovesyou2022]

You Own My Heart, Dearest Love~ Mat Barzal (pt 1)

A/N: some of the poems you might see in this fic are mine. They will be marked with an *

Poetry had always been my greatest joy and my hardest trial. I'd been writing it since the day I turned eleven, but still had not published a book. It wasn't that I didn't want too, I did, but I felt I needed some time before I did anything like that.

I took a second to look up from the Emily Dickinson book I'd been reading to stare out the window. The leaves from our backyard tree fell gently to the ground and the sky had never looked prettier. The sun shining through the window hit me right in the heart and warmed me all up.

I'd been living in New York with Mat since his rookie year and I never stopped awing at how beautiful the city could be, especially in this season of autumn.

I put my bookmark in to keep my place and stood up, stretching my arms above my head. Mat would be home any minute and be asking me if I'd written anything today. He most likely wouldn't be surprised that I had.

I wandered back into the kitchen and placed my fingers over the notebook laying on the table. I traced over the binding and smiled to myself. Mat had bought me this book two years ago and I'd faithfully used it since day one.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine! You make me happy when skies are gray!"

A loud giggle escaped my lips as I looked up to see Mat coming in the door, his eyes bright and shining like usual.

"Matty!"

Mat laughed and took off his gray beanie, tossing it carelessly onto the small table that sat by the door.

"The boys were asking about you today, sunshine. They want to know, especially Beau, when you're coming to see them."

I made my way over to him so I could take his jacket and rolled my eyes. Beau was Mat's best friend and teammate, Anthony Beauvillier. He'd become like an older brother to me and always complained about not seeing me enough.

"Yeah, I'll come tomorrow, Matty. Even if just to shut Beau up," I told him, taking his light brown jacket and walking towards the hallway closet.

"That'll make Beau happy, bestie," Mat yelled back at me as I heard his feet bounce towards the kitchen.

My heart fluttered at the name he'd called me and I stared into the closet, trying to calm myself. I'd had an on and off crush on him for years, but lately my heart had been beating a little to fast for it to be called a crush anymore. It had to be love.

I stepped out of the closet and closed the door behind me before heading towards the kitchen, where Mat was rummaging through our fridge.

"He's easy to please," I informed him, pulling my notebook away from the edge of the table before it fell.

Mat shrugged his large shoulders and grinned at me once he'd closed the fridge.

"Kinda like you, eh, sunshine?"

I scoffed and tried to tell myself that his hazel eyes weren't making my breath hitch in my throat.

"No, I think it's more like YOU, Matty."

Mat pouted at me and tried to jut out his lower lip as far as it could go. He batted his eyelashes at me and I found myself getting weak in the knees.

"That's not fair, sunshine."

My lips twitched into a smile and a giggle exited out of me.

"All is fair in love and war, Matty. Surely you know this by now."

************************************************************************

When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I smelt was sausage and bacon. That had been the easiest thing to teach Mat for breakfasts on his days off. I needed to teach him how to make dinner next.

I rolled out of bed and opened my window blinds. Gray clouds and a gust of wind greeted me, but my heart still smiled at the colorful leaves.

"Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchem!"

William Shakespeare was another of my favorite poets and I often whispered his Sonnet 33 to the world as a morning greeting. Mat had caught me saying it once and told me he found it endearing.

Me being a poet had always interested Mat, I reflected as I placed my slippers on my cold feet. He told me that he paid more attention to poetry now than he ever did in our Literature classes, which I fully believed.

Sometimes it delighted me to hear Mat quote a poem out of nowhere. It didn't matter if it was one of mine or one of the more famous ones, Mat quoting poetry made me smile.

I sauntered down the long hallway and did a little happy dance when the smell of frying meat hit me full force. On days like this when Mat gave me a break and got breakfast ready, I fell even harder for him.

"There's nothing I love more than you making breakfast in the morning," I informed him as I danced into the kitchen.

Mat eyed me with a rather soft look on his face as he flipped the meat over. He'd worn that expression quite a bit lately and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Well, it's part of me thanking you for all the days you make me breakfast, sunshine."

I blushed and ducked my head down as I grabbed two plates from the cabinet. If he keeps that up, I'll be confessing my feelings for him any day now.

"That's what best friends do, Matty," I explained, looking at him once I knew my blush had faded.

Mat chuckled and nodded, looking quite satisfied at the thoroughly cooked meat.

"It's also a way of apologizing for all the shit you put up with from me," he added, placing the plate of meat onto the table.

I noticed he'd also taken the time to cut up some strawberries and saw a pan of eggs on the stove. I made a move to grab the pan but Mat shook his head at me and grabbed my plate.

"I don't think so, sunshine. You sit your pretty toosh down."

I wanted to protest but the look on his face told me he was in no mood for an argument. So I simply smiled to myself and took my seat.

"You're being really nice this morning, Matty."

He leaned across his chair to press a kiss to my cheek and laughed.

"Listen, sunshine, you'll have to learn at some point that I am the nicest person you will ever meet. So, shush up and eat your breakfast."

I blushed again and my heart beat against my rib cage as I started to eat what was on my plate. He was too busy devouring his food to catch the look I gave him, but that had to change soon.

Mat Barzal was becoming the love of my life.

[barzyyy]

I’m hella in my feels. Break my heart.

one too many.

a/n: prepare yourselves for this one. TW: includes mention of death, alcohol/heavy drinking and self-depricating thoughts. it is heavy. please read at your own discretion. my dm’s are open if anyone needs to talk!

italics = flashback.

read this first, if you haven’t already.

————————————

mat could feel the alcohol meeting his stomach. when did he become this way? he knew that he was not in a condition to be drinking as much as he was. he hadn’t eaten in at least a day. somehow the simplest tasks have become the most difficult.

it didn’t help that it was the offseason. all of his teammates were off on vacation. the jealousy quickly turned into resentment. he deleted all of his social media apps because he couldn’t bear to see anyone else happy. he locked himself inside your once shared house, alone. what used to feel like home now felt unsafe. with every corner he turned, there was something that reminded him of you. lipstick on the counter, your shoes kicked off next to the couch, he left them all in the same spot, praying that this was all a dream and that you would come walking through the door again.

he couldn’t get himself to come to terms with reality.

he drunkely stumbled to the couch, mindlessly turning on the tv and surfing through the channels. he landed on a random channel because his thoughts were overtaking him once again.

mat dreamed of being a dad. you both used to talk about starting a family of your own. would your kids have mat’s hair and your eyes? which one of your personalities would they adopt? he wanted so badly to look through the glass at a game and see you standing on the other side with your baby. he wanted to raise a son and teach him all he knew about how to play. he wanted a little girl to put makeup on him and make him sing the songs of all of her favorite disney princesses.

now, he didn’t want a family at all. you were going perfect mother. no one could ever compete with you. and now that you’re gone, he promised himself that no one would ever take your place. sure, he could have kids with someone else, but they would never be the kids he would have had with you. he didn’t want it.

it was easier to put up a wall and block out the feelings. his grief of losing you was too much for him to handle. he would rather just push everything out, experiencing nothing rather than experiencing everything all at once. every time he thought of you, another part of him was taken away. he was a shell of who he once was.

things would have been different if he had went home to you. had he not gone out to the bar with his teammates after the game, you would have never been in the accident. there would have been no reason for you to go over to your friend’s house. now, instead of remembering the celebratory reason why he went out, his memory was plagued by the phone call he received as he got the worst news of his life.

mat could feel the alcohol meeting his stomach. who was he to turn down free alcohol? getting the game winning goal in game 7 made him feel like he was on top of the world. fans in the bar were covering mat’s tab, and he was partying with all of his teammates. out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up with your caller i.d. and his favorite picture of the two of you. he picked it up and started walking through the mass of people to find a quieter place as he answered the call.

“babe, you won’t believe how many people are here! everyone is buying me drinks and-“

“hello?”

the manly voice was unrecognizable. mat stopped in his tracks.

“who is this?” he questioned.

“this is tom haltford, i’m a paramedic with the long island fire department. do you have a relationship with (y/n) barzal?” he asked.

he immediately sobered up. “she’s my wife, what is going on?” his heart was beating out of his chest.

“sir, i regret to inform you that your wife was in an accident. she was in a head-on collision with an impaired driver. she is currently being transported to nassau university medical center. do you have a safe way of getting there? i can send a police officer to pick you up.”

mat could only muster one sentence.

“is she alive?”

silence.

“i am sending an officer to your location. i am so sorry.”

what brought him out of his trance was the feeling of tears hitting his hand. he had not realized that he was crying, but did nothing to stop the onset of emotions that were to come. he buried his head in his hands, taking in the weight of the fact that you would have still been here had he not decided to go out. his shoulders heaved, but he stayed silent. he sobbed for a half an hour straight.

silence was something mat was becoming all too familiar with. he could no longer listen to the radio because every song he heard remided him of you. he didn’t dare go outside, because he couldn’t stop the jealousy that arose when he saw a couple out together. the best he could do was stay at home. his interaction was limited. when he did eat, all he did was get it delivered. even then, his options were scarce because he didn’t want to eat anything that felt significant to your relationship. he no longer ordered take out from your shared favorite thai restaurant down the street. he avoided anything that remided himself of you.

he would have teammates, family and friends text him every now and again to check in. he made it a point at your funeral to promise that he would reach out if he needed help. deep down, he knew from the beginning that those promises were as hollow as the newly-formed void in his heart.

maybe the irony of it all was that what killed you was the same thing he was using to self medicate. over time, one beer turned into to three, then six. he felt as if it was his only escape - alcohol only solidifed the numbness that he had been feeling. but tonight, he knew that he had gone overboard. there were freshly-chugged beer bottles on the table, and the only thing stopping him from taking some of your sleeping pills was his hope that you would come back for them. in addition to the beer, he was down a glass and a half of wine when his body finally began to reject the liquid. he tried to run to the bathroom, but the closest place he could make it was the kitchen sink. his stomach uncontrollably emptied itself, and he was left gasping in between his heaves. when he was done, he ran his hands under the sink and put water on his face. pulling the kitchen towel from the oven to wipe off his face, he looked up and his eyes were met with the picture on your counter from the wedding.

he was in immediate tears as he saw you walking down the aisle. your dress perfectly hugged your curves and your smile had been the biggest he’d ever seen. he felt a soft nudge from behind him.

”stay strong man, stay strong.” beau whispered, trying to help mat preserve any ounce that was left of his ego.

“bro, i can’t.” he whispered back, tears running down his face. at that point, you began to cry, and then the whole room was crying.

you both struggled through the tears to read eachother your vows. you were so impressed with how heartfelt his were.

“you helped me learn who i was outside of hockey, and i still fall in love with you every single day. ...and you’re a smokin’ 10, too. so that’s a plus.”

the after party was absolutely insane. you danced and drank the night away with your closest family and friends. you were talking to your best friend when mat came stumbling over to you, hugged you and said “can you believe we’re fucking MARRIED BABE?”

that was it. he couldn’t give up on life anymore. who he was becoming was scaring him. he knew that this is not what you would want. with a shaking hand and a breaking heart, he haphazardly picked up his phone and dialed the first number he could think of. there was an answer halfway through the first ring.

“hey man, you all good?”

inbetween sobs, his words slurred together. “beau, i need you.”

——————————————————

[troubatrain]

truth or dare - m. barzal

a/n: so @dembenchboys​ sent me an ask about how they wanted me to write a fic about Mat eating you out for the first time and then I absolutely ran with it. So happy Saturday here’s some straight up filth that i wrote in like a night (which I haven’t been able to do in forever so that’s exciting!!)

Your roommate’s boyfriend was an absolute idiot. Anthony was about half a bottle of wine deep, his cheeks red while tears were practically streaming down his face from laughter. He barged into your apartment a few hours ago, Mat in tow, ruining your girl’s night in with Zoe. Mat was apologetic, lounging on the couch in sweats shaking his head at Anthony who didn’t take your hints that they should leave.

“I just think we should play truth or dare if it's a girl's night,” Anthony argues, waving the glass of rose he was drinking around your couch, Zoe grabbing his hand to stop him from spilling it.

“I just think you’re an idiot,” You snap back, rolling your eyes at Zoe who was trying to tame her getting-drunker-by-the-minute boyfriend.

“I’ll play,” Mat sighs, sipping his beer and sitting up from the otherside of the couch.

“I thought you were on my side here,” You tap Mat in the arm, reminding him of the secret alliance you’d made a few weeks prior.

It was silly, but after Anthony and Zoe left you with Mat in a bar, Mat was pissed. Not at you, which he made clear after he told you about fifteen times he was mad at his teammate. But, he was so upset that Anthony invited you both out but couldn’t even bother to offer you a ride home. You told him it was fine, because most of the time Anthony was actually really kind to you, but Mat didn’t believe it. After he’d driven you home, Mat made a joke about how if you were both constantly forced to third wheel your friends, you could at least have each other's backs.

“I am,” Mat assures you, waving his hand at you and leaving over to whisper to you, “Sometimes it’s just easier to let him win.”

“I’ll play one round,” You sigh, Mat’s landing on your thigh to give it a squeeze, “Don’t get too excited.”

“I am excited,” Anthony cheers, an app with a bunch of random truth or dares literally open on his phone already, “You’re going first Y/N - truth or dare?” “Truth,” You sigh, leaning back into the couch. You hear a chorus of boo’s from everyone else at your answer, “Do you want me to play or not?”

“You’re so lame,” Anthony hollers, dragging out his words, tapping his phone to shuffle a truth question, “Oh this is a good one, tell the story of the best orgasm you ever had.”

Zoe’s eyes went wide, looking at you while you choked on your drink. It wasn’t a sensitive topic, the whole never having an orgasm thing, but it definitely wasn’t something you wanted to talk about with Zoe’s drunk ass boyfriend and his insanely handsome teammate. Your past boyfriends hadn’t always been great, and considering not one of them had ever gone down on you, it wasn’t surprised you’d never had someone get you off. You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks and before a lie could come to mind, Anthony already had you read.

“You’ve never had an orgasm,” Anthony accuses, a confused look on his face. You gave it away, nodding your head and not even daring to turn to look at Mat who was sitting next to you, “Oh my-” “Beau,” Zoe stops him, grabbing his arm to remind him to be nice with whatever thing he had to say next.

“How?” Anthony asks, his jaw still practically hitting the floor, “What kind of douchebags are you dating? Or is it-” “Tito, no one’s ever gone down on me and I’ve never had an orgasm,” You start to explain, anger boiling in you that you had to explain yourself at all, “You know what? I’m going.”

You get up, grabbing your glass and a few empty plates that were littering the coffee table. You heard Anthony call your name, probably to apologize for striking a nerve, but you ignored him. You were moving around the kitchen frantically, cleaning to try and distract yourself from your own emotions. You just didn’t want to talk about it, talking about your sex life just wasn’t something you did often. You hear a few footsteps in the kitchen and you turn around quickly to spot Mat was leaning against the counter waiting for you to turn off the sick.

“Zoe drove Tito home,” Mat sighs, getting up and gently turning the knob to turn off the sink, “And I’m sorry he’s a dick.” “It’s not your fault Mat,” You take a deep breath, not breaking eye contact with the plate that was in your hand, “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset with him.”

“No you should have, he shouldn’t have questioned you,” Mat argues back, “It’s okay you know, by the way.”

“I don’t need validation from you about my lack of sexual experience just because you get laid all the time Mat,” You remind him, finally looking up at the apologetic man in front of you. Mat’s eyes were soft, with a smile that matched when you finally looked at him, “It could be just me.” “Or it’s whatever losers you’re dating who won’t go down on a girl,” Mat scoffs, running a hand through his hair. His mind had been blown from the second he realized why you didn’t answer Anthony’s question. But, Mat could believe never having an orgasm, but never having someone go down on you - that should have been a crime, “I bet I could get you off.”

“My first orgasm isn’t some prize Mat,” You say, walking past Mat to open your fridge and pull out the bottle of wine you’d opened a few hours ago.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mat rushes out, trying to fix his mistake. He looks panicked for a moment, like the gears in his head were turning. He took a few steps forward boldly, taking the bottle out of your hand and pushing you against the counter, “I just mean I could take care of you if you’ll let me.”

Mat’s large hands were gripping your waist, and you could feel yourself practically melting under his touch. You look straight at his chest, watching the chain peeking out from under his hoodie shine against the fluorescent lighting in your kitchen. You knew you breathing was heavy, and you bit your lip debating it for just a moment. Mat was a good guy, and you were sure no one would ever  find out about this if you asked him to keep it quiet, “I’m not a pity fuck.”

“You were wearing blue the first time I met you,” Mat whispers, his lips ghosting overs, “I remember that because the first time I saw you I walked over to flirt with you and then Tito introduced us.”

You smile at the memory, the light blue top you were wearing was one of your favorites. It was the end of the summer, and you were holding onto the last few moments of warm weather before fall hit New York. Zoe dragged you out that night, insisting you met her new boyfriend and a few of his friends. You remember meeting Mat that night, but you didn’t know what his actual intentions in talking to you were, “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“Tito really likes Zoe, I didn’t want to make things weird,” Mat laughs, his eyes flicking down to your lips that were barely an inch away from his. You lean forward, throwing caution to the win and placing your lips on Mat’s. He smiled against your lips, grabbing your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Please make me cum,” You breathe out, leaving a trail of kisses down Mat’s jaw while you directed him to your bedroom. He drops you on the bed, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it aside. You bit your lip, eyes raking over every muscle on Mat’s body that was drool worthy.

“You can stop me whenever you want,” Mat assures you, climbing on top of you and pulling you in for a kiss. Mat bit down on your lip gently, smirking when he heard a moan slip through your lips, “I could kiss you all day.”

“I assumed you’d get to it by now,” You admit, knowing everyone man you’d ever been with would have thrown foreplay out the door by now. Mat laughed against your neck, taking a break from the mark he was intent on leaving.

“This is why you’ve never had an orgasm,” Mat chuckles, picking his head up to look you in the eyes, “I’m taking my time with you.”

You smile, pulling Mat back down by his chain to meet his lips to yours. Mat’s hand snuck under your shirt, waiting for you to nod and give him permission before he tossed the t-shirt behind him, groaning when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. Mat pressed a kiss to your neck, making his way down between yours breasts. His tongue swirled your nipple, hands moving down your body to pull your shorts off. You arch your back, letting out a whimper when you felt Mat’s teeth against your skin. Mat kissed down your body, stopping when his lips hit just above your panties. He looked up at you, waiting for the green light to take them off.

“Go ahead Mat,” You breathe out, the anticipation practically killing you. Mat slipped his fingers under your panties, sliding them down your legs and throwing them to the side. He presses a few kisses to the inside of your thighs. You bite your lip, the sight of anyone between your thighs was new, let alone Mat. A whimper left your mouth when you felt Mat’s lips just above your clit, hot breath fanning over your pussy.

“You’re sure about this babe?” Mat asks one more time, a cautious tone to his phone. Something in your gut told you he was never this gentle, but the way he was handling you was just too sweet. You nod, watching while Mat flicked your clit gently, afraid if he went too hard too fast you’d either go into shock or you’d be too turned off to get you there. His tongue went flat, licking a stripe down your folds and teasing your entrance. Your hands landed in Mat’s hair, pulling on them gently while a moan slipped through your lips, “You like that?”

“Yes,” You whimper, a feeling you couldn’t quite describe overtaking your body. Sex never felt this good, because no one you’d ever been was bothered to pay attention to your body. Mat smirks, clearly pleased with himself for figuring out exactly what made you tick. He tossed your thighs over his shoulders, his tongue moving faster on your pussy while his nose was rubbing against your clit. You could feel it, the build up from pleasure while your moans became the only sound in your bedroom, “Mat, fuck, I think I’m going to-”

You didn’t even finish your sentence before your legs began to shake as your orgasm took over your body. Mat was gentle, his mouth still on you while you rode out your high, but not enough to overstimulate you just yet. You laid there for a minute, Mat pressing kisses into your stomach while you caught your breath. Even you could read the smile on his face, one that was clearly satisfied with the victory of finally getting you to cum, “You did so good baby.”

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks at Mat’s praise, something you were quickly learning you really loved to hear, “Do it again.”

Mat smiles against your skin, a light laugh leaving his lips, “How?”

“With your fingers,” You whisper, biting your lip and looking down at Mat’s hands that were still wrapped around your thighs. Mat nods, freeing his grip on your thighs with one hand and letting his finger trace your folds, collecting the cum from the first time. He swipes it with his finger, sucking your cum right off it.

“You taste so fucking good,” Mat admits, and you let a breathy moan as a response. Mat’s eyebrows raise, “Do you like when I praise you?”

You nod quickly, pulling Mat up to meet your lips. Mat kisses were slow, but his finger that was slipping in you wasn’t. His thumb circled your clit while he caught your moans with his mouth, “Two.”

“Give a girl one orgasm and she’s already this demanding,” Mat jokes, tucking his head into your neck while he slipped another one of his long fingers in your, “You’re taking my fingers so well princess.”

“I’m going to cum again Mat,” You moan, your hips lifting off your mattress while Mat’s fingers move relentlessly in and out of you. Your hips sputtered, your legs shaking at the pleasure of your high. Mat finally slips them out, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a muttered good girl that left a chill up your spine. You looked down, the bulge in Mat’s gray sweats was prominent, a part of you almost felt guilty for leaving him high and dry like that, “Mat let me-”

“No,” Mat grabs your hand, entwining it with his and pulling it up to his mouth, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“What if I want you to fuck me?” You bat your eyelashes, trying to muster up the sexiest face you could while Mat’s brain short circuited from your question.

“You don’t have to get me off,” Mat makes his point clear, driving home the whole notion that he doesn’t want to push you into an uncomfortable situation, “I can do it myself and-”

Your free hand makes it way down Mat’s chest, running your fingers over his abs and stopping at the waistband on his sweats, “Mat Barzal I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Mat breathes out, watching you pull down his sweats and boxers in one motion, his cock springing freely from his pants. He’d been turned on from the moment he stepped in your bedroom, the idea of getting you off for the first time was just too hot for him to handle. You pumped his cock a few times, letting the precum on his dick spread. You rolled over, opening your drawer and fishing for a condom that you were thanking your lucky stars was actually in there. Mat grabs it, ripping the plastic open and rolling the condom onto his dick while you lightly rubbed your clit in anticipation, “You look so fucking perfect right now.”

“Mat please,” You whimper, a bold statement considering you’d never been one to be vocal in the bedroom about anything. Mat rubbed the head of his cock against you, slowly entering you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Mat groans, the feeling of your pussy around his cock lived in his wildest fantasies, ones that he stored in the back of his mind so he could get through hanging out with you without getting a boner. Mat bottomed out, giving you a few minutes to adjust to how big he was. You whispered a small go against his shoulder, your lips against his skin while Mat pulled his hips back and started a slow pace in you. You gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into the muscles on his back. Mat looked down at you, pushing your hair out of your face and pressing his lips against your forehead, “I think my cock was made for you babe.”

“Harder Mat,” You moan, the same feeling you got the first two times building up inside of you. Mat took the hint, his hand snaking down your body and rubbing his thumb against your clit while he picked up his own pace. Your pussy flutters around him, and you ride out of your high while Mat tries to chase his own. His movements became erratic and with a loud groan he spilled into the condom.

The room was quiet, Mat laying on top of you while you both tried to catch your breath. You traced your finger down Mat’s back, “That was something.”

“Glad I could be your first, second, and third orgasm,” Mat chuckles, finally slipping out of you and tossing the condom in the garbage. He disappeared for a moment, coming back with a warm towel to clean you up. You winced at the contact, “I know you’re still sensitive babe but you’ve got to let me take care of you.”

Mat’s words were gentle, followed by a kiss on the inside of your thigh before he got up to collect his clothes that were thrown across your room, “I don’t want to go but-”

“I know Barz,” You laugh, knowing full well he had a morning skate the next day that if he was late for Trotz would have his ass, “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Listen, next time you're out with someone I can send him notes on how to get you off,” Mat jokes, throwing his hoodie back on and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Or we can save the middleman and you can let me take you out.”

“Well I guess cutting out the middleman would be best,” You giggle, feeling Mat’s lips turn into a smile.

“So Saturday?”

“It’s a date Barz.”

[hookingminor]

the way that you love me - anthony beauvillier

a/n: inspired by pov by ariana, a lot of it is from tito’s perspective. lightly edited. all fluff. thank you @thirteenisles​ for telling me to write for tito

word count: 2.5k

summary: anthony’s been in love with you for a long time

-

Anthony was in love with you.

He knew it from the moment he met you that he was done for. There really wasn’t anything inherently special about you, which probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but it was true. But when you smiled at him for the first time and extended your hand in introduction, something inside of him shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, and he didn’t even register it at first, but then he shook your hand and a calm settled over him. Anthony didn’t understand what it meant then, but he understood it now.

It was the same feeling he felt right now as he watched you sleep next to him your hair strewn across the pillow and mouth slightly agape. Soft snores escaped your lips, though you always denied it when he told you. It bothered him a bit at the beginning, the snores used to keep him awake during late nights when he had early morning practice. Now he couldn’t sleep without you, snoring and all.

You looked so peaceful lying beside him. With one hand lightly holding onto his bicep, his heart fluttered. It was something you always did when you were asleep: reach out until you grabbed some body part.

When he came home late at night from road trips across the country and settled into bed, you never failed to do the same thing. You were a notoriously heavy sleeper, but whenever Anthony slid under the sheets, you swatted in his direction until you came into contact with him. Whatever you hit, you grabbed onto before rolling over and crawling as close to him as possible.

The first time it happened, all Anthony could do was laugh. He thought you might’ve been awake and that his return woke you, but when he didn’t see your breathing change or eyes flicker open, his chest had gotten so tight he was afraid it would burst.

An overwhelming softness consumed him at that, and it hit him with full force every time it happened. It was the little things. You never realized you did it, nor did he ever tell you.

“Stop staring, weirdo,” you peeked one eye open and caught Anthony looking at you.

Anthony coughed out the stiffness in his throat before replying.

“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, hoping you couldn’t see through him and how vulnerable he was feeling right now, “You’re so beautiful in the morning.”

Whatever Anthony was afraid of you seeing, you didn’t because you rolled your eyes.

-

“Can you make me some tea, please?” You called out to your boyfriend who was rummaging through the kitchen.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” he hollered back, and you heard the coffee machine running to dispense hot water.

Anthony reached over your shoulder from behind to place the mug on the table next to your textbooks. He paused halfway through his retreat to rest his hand on your shoulder and gave you a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Baby, you have three other mugs in front of you,” Anthony said, noticing the half-filled mugs in front of you.

You shrugged, “It tastes better when you make it.”

Anthony left you to continue your studies, but your statement replayed in his mind as he went into the living room and turned on whatever game was playing at the moment. You’d said it without hesitation, and Anthony doubted you even processed what you said.

It was all he could think about.

Later that night when he went to clear the table after you’d disappeared to take a shower, he saw that the only mug that was empty was the one he’d made for you earlier.

He noticed everything after that. Every morning before you left, there was always a mug semi-filled with coffee or tea resting on the counter that you’d made before going to class. Every evening when he made you a cup of tea before bed, you drank every drop.

Intrinsically, Anthony knew he didn’t make tea any better than the next person, but it never failed to brighten his mood every time he woke up and saw the empty tea mug from the night before sitting on the nightstand.

-

Anthony knew you had your doubts sometimes. Not about him. Never about him.

But he knew you had insecurities. About your relationship, about yourself and the need you had to compare yourself to other girls, about why Anthony was even with you to begin with.

None that you ever voiced them with him, but he could tell when you began to pull away and close yourself off from him. He never understood why or what caused it, but he could always read the signs leading up to it.

Anthony also knew how to snap you out of it. The first time it happened, he feared you were going to break up with him, but now he was practically a professional.

“What are your plans for the night? Are you still going out with the guys?”

You had been unusually quiet during dinner, and now you were hand washing the dishes instead of just putting them in the dishwasher; a telltale sign you were thinking too much and needed a mundane task to clear your head.

Approaching you from behind, Anthony wrapped his arms around your abdomen and nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Actually, I was thinking we should stay in for the night,” the words sounded muffled against your skin, and the vibrations tickled, which only caused Anthony to squeeze you tighter.

“Oh?” You questioned, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“Mhmm,” he hummed as he reached forward to turn off the sink, “I can’t neglect my girl right before leaving for a road trip.”

“You’re not leaving for another two days.”

“Then we’ve got less time than I thought,” Anthony said with fake realization, “Better get started now.”

You squealed in surprise as Anthony spun you around and hiked you up by your thighs. He had no care for the wet hands clutching onto his shoulders as you steadied yourself. Leaving the dirty dishes to be dealt with later, he carried you from the kitchen and into the bedroom where he spent all night showing you just how much he loved you.

-

“How’s Y/N doing?” Mat asked Anthony when they boarded the plane, “Tell her I say hi.”  He’d plopped down next to Anthony who was sending you one final text before take off, and Mat knew that love struck face anywhere. It was a face he only reserved for you, and Mat didn’t have to look at his phone to know Anthony was texting you.

“She’s doing well,” Anthony answered, firing off an ‘I love you’ before locking his phone.

“Yeah? You guys are still coming to the wedding next month, right?” Mat asked. One of their teammates was finally tying the knot, and Anthony knew Mat was only asking so he didn’t have to be the only single one there. He would still be the only single one, but Mat always inserted himself into yours and Anthony’s relationship whenever he had to third wheel.

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Anthony replied with an eye roll as he checked his phone one last time to see you’d replied with an ‘I love you too’ before switching it to airplane mode.

“God, it’s just a matter of time before you two are getting hitched and I’m left all alone,” Mat sighed before pulling an eye mask over his head and putting in his headphones.

Mat made the comment in passing; he didn’t understand the weight of what he’d just said, and he was already brushing it off and leaving Anthony to sit and think about it.

Maybe Anthony should’ve felt panicked after the realization hit, but all he felt was that same sense of calm wash over him. He’d never given much thought to his future. He definitely didn’t plan on ending things with you and when he pictured himself in five years, you were always there beside him but he’d never made definitive plans.

Mat began dozing off as the plane took flight, but Anthony was wide awake. He knew he wanted to marry you, he was sure about that. There was no doubt in his mind that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but the feeling was all-consuming.

He was happy, yes. Calm in a way he’d never felt before but also nervous. It wasn’t something you two had ever talked about, and for the first time, Anthony was insecure. He imagined it’s what you felt like when you started pushing away, and he finally understood.

Would you even want to get married? Did you want a life with him? Kids? A picket fence? The whole nine-yards?

Anthony knew he would give you anything you wanted, but the question was: Did you want him to?

-

As you flitted around the party, Anthony watched you with intent eyes. The girls had stolen you away earlier in the evening demanding pictures and that you mingle with them instead of hanging onto Anthony the entire night, not that Anthony minded that. He very much preferred when you were near him, if only to stop the chirps he was receiving.

“God, you’re such a lost puppy without her,” Jordan commented, snapping Anthony from his stupor as his gaze flickered back to his friends. Anthony blushed, knowing the comment was directed at him, but he had no comeback.

“Ease off, he’s just imagining his own wedding now,” Matt teased with a knowing look. Nearly all the guys had been there before, and Anthony knew they meant it in good fun.

“Popping the question any time soon, Beau?” Scott asked as he took a swig of his beer. Being the most recent one to get married, he understood the feeling probably better than the other married guys.

“Not soon but thinking about it,” Anthony admitted sheepishly. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings with the guys. Sure, he went to one of the older ones if he ever needed advice, but those times were few and far between. By the raised brows of everyone near him, he could tell they were shocked with his admission. Happy, nonetheless, but still surprised.

Anthony had started thinking about it during the road trip when Mat had unknowingly dropped that bomb on him. He thought about it constantly, but he still hadn’t brought it up to you yet.

“Really? Good for you, dude,” Jordan said, and suddenly Anthony felt shy.

He couldn’t help it, his eyes shifted back to find you in the middle of conversation with Sydney as you snapped some pictures for other girls. You were glowing. You always glowed to Anthony, and maybe it was the wedding atmosphere, but right now, it was like you had a halo surrounding you.

Your face lit up at something someone said, and even though you were across the room, he could hear your laughter in his head.

The other guys exchanged a few glances between themselves as Anthony’s attention was stolen again by you. They couldn’t really blame him, they’d all been in his shoes at some point.

As the night dragged on and the drinks flowed freely, Anthony absorbed all of it: the soft voice you used when talking to the young kids who begged you to play with them, the way you clutched onto his arm when you made your rounds and mingled with other guests, the atrocious line dancing you did with Mat since Anthony refused to cotton-eye joe.

“Come on,” you said out of breath as you extended your hand to Anthony. You were tired from the long dance and a slower one had come on right after, “Just one dance.”

With a heavy sigh, Anthony took your hand as you led him to the dance floor for a slow dance. Your face was warm for the exertion and alcohol, and even a little sweaty and smudged, Anthony thought you were gorgeous.

His hands fell to your waist as yours wrapped around his neck, and he pulled your body flushed with his. You swayed to the music and rested your head on his chest.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Anthony mumbled against your hair. Although unprompted, it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” You asked, pulling back to look at your boyfriend. It wasn’t normally like Anthony to be this soft, especially in public, but the wedding had only enhanced his good mood.

“Because I can’t even begin to describe how beautiful you are and how much I’m in love with you.”

He said it so simply and casually, as if he were recounting his favorite part of dinner instead of baring his heart for you to see. Your teasing smile softened into one of appreciation.

“Who knew weddings could turn you into such a sap, Beauvis?” you joked lightly, though you pulled yourself closer to him. It was that same stupid nickname Mat had called him one time, and you frequently used it much to Anthony’s dismay.

He tightened his grip on you as he returned your warm smile, and he could see it all right then: his entire life laid out ahead of him with you in the center of it all. Truth be told, Anthony was a sap for you, had been for a long time and you knew it.

“I want a winter wedding, too,” you commented easily after a moment, and Anthony felt his heart rate speed up.

“And if I want a summer wedding?” He threw back, though the smile on his face indicated he was only teasing.

“Hmm…” you paused to ponder the thought, “I think we might have to compromise on a fall wedding then. Summer is too hot for me.”

“Fall sounds nice,” Anthony mused, “A little difficult with the season, but we can make it work if you want.”

“As long as you’re there, I don’t really care when it is,” you replied, and Anthony found himself thinking the same thing.

He didn’t respond after that, deciding to let the music engulf the two of you as you continued to sway. Another slow song followed right after, but Anthony made no motion to leave. He would’ve stayed there all night if you wanted if it weren’t for Mat disrupting your dance and asking to cut in.

Anthony let him take over without hesitation as he didn’t really care much for dancing anyway, but he walked back to your table feeling lighter than he had ever felt in his life.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled out his phone as he watched you and Mat laugh on the dance floor, the song changing to a more upbeat one. Mat spun you away in a dramatic twirl that almost sent you stumbling had it not been for Mat’s hold on your hand.

Anthony smiled to himself as he opened Google to search for engagement rings.

[beauvibaby]

table for two – a.beauvillier

a/n: a little fic I threw together that I really love 🥺 it’s not proofread tho

“A forty minute wait?” You tried to hide your disappointment, it had been a terrible day at work, your feet were aching and your stomach was on the verge of growling. “Yes, I’m-“ the hostess stopped herself, she glanced over to the only other single party here, “give me just a moment.” She gave you a smile before rushing off. You sighed dramatically, pulling your phone out. The only reason you were so stuck on eating here is because you had a gift card and didn’t want to cook tonight. You glanced up as the hostess approached you, “we have a table for two available, if you don’t mind sitting with this gentleman.” She explained, motioning to the guy sitting in the corner, he had an optimistic smile on his face. He clearly had a much better day than you, as you were about to turn down the offer, your stomach clenched, reminding you how long it had been since you ate.

“Yes. I’ll sit with him.”

You stayed silent, following them to the table, the guy shot you a soft smile as he sat across from you, he seemed like a nice guy, his eyes showed his genuineness. The bright blue only making them more vibrant, you mirrored his smile, crossing your legs under the table. “So, how are we playing this? Awkward silence while we listen to each other eat, or are you going to tell me your name?” He spoke up as you hid behind your menu, you raised an eyebrow at his forwardness, although you could hear a slight nerve in his tone. “You first.” You laughed softly, lowering the menu to reveal your whole face. “Anthony.” He grinned, the name fit him, his smile wide and bright as he looked over at you, not having even picked up his menu yet. “Y/N.” You spoke, glancing between him and the menu, he chuckled at your obvious desire to eat, not that he could blame you, he’d been waiting for a while before you showed up, and the hostess undoubtedly was trying to play matchmaker, not that he was complaining. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He murmured, opening up his menu, he glanced over at you, seeing your eyes darting between two items, “never been here before?” He asked, already settling on his meal. You shook your head, chewing your bottom lip as you weighed your options, chicken or pasta.

“Are we ready to order?” The waiter asked, setting down the drinks you’d ordered when you sat down. Anthony nodded, going first to give you another second to decide. He ordered the exact chicken dish you’d been debating on, “is it good?” You asked him, closing your menu, he nodded instantly. “I’ll have the same, please.” You handed over your menu, watching the guy whisk away. “So, Y/N.” Anthony started, resting his elbows on the table, “are you a nurse?” He asked with a tilt of his head, motioning to the scrubs you were wearing. “Medical assistant.” You answered, looking over at his outfit, “I have no clues, this isn’t fair.” You countered, stifling back a laugh when he looked down at his pants and shirt, he hummed, giving you a smile. “You watch sports?” He asked, you thought he was derailing the conversation, “not really.” You answered truthfully, he nodded in understanding, “I play hockey.” He told you, and you thought he was just being a show off. “Athletic, fun, still doesn’t tell me what you do for a living.” You countered easily, whether it be the way he was so easy to speak to, or the way you were sure to be dying of hunger, the words toppled out before you could stop them.

You felt your face flood with warmth as he tilted his head back in laughter, “hockey.” He spoke, raising an eyebrow, “I play hockey for a living.” He watched your face go from confused to shock, “oh.” You whispered sheepishly, “for who?” You asked, mirroring his earlier actions and resting your elbows on the table. “New York Islanders.” He spoke with ease, glancing over the restaurant, suddenly feeling like he came off as arrogant. “Oh thank god, my family would disown me for talking to a Rangers player.” You quipped, you might not have been much into sports, but growing up in New York, you knew a fair bit about the local teams. Plus your cousins were avid fans. So maybe you knew a bit more than average.

“Thought you weren’t into sports?” He answered instantly, becoming engrossed in the conversation with you. He listened intently to you as you began to ramble about the hockey fans in your family, you hadn’t realized how long you’d been talking until the food showed up. You fell silent abruptly, embarrassed for how much you’d spoken. Anthony gave you a reassuring smile as he began cutting into his chicken. You did the same, brushing your sheepishness aside. Your eyes shut in relief as you ate your first bite, “told you it was good.” He spoke up as he swallowed his food. You giggled softly, looking up at him through your lashes, he smirked to himself as you hid behind some of your loose hairs. He found himself wanting to do this again with you, sit, talk, eat. A classic date if he’d ever seen one, but it wasn’t, you were just a complete stranger that he’d probably never see again.

Your meal had come and gone, and you both settled your checks, about to part ways out in the parking lot, “you know, I might just have to take my cousin up on that extra ticket to the game in a couple weeks.” You blurted out, cursing yourself mentally, he faltered in his steps, “I’ll be looking for you.” He called as he walked to his car, leaving you there to process his words with a flutter in your chest.

Of course, the first thing you did when you got home was look him up on Instagram, boldly following him and wondering about the what if’s.

***

You rushed out the door the next morning, knowing you’d never hear the end of it from your cousin, Ava, if you were late. It was a tradition for you, her and her twin brother to get together once a month for breakfast, something your dad had instilled in you all, and something you made sure to keep up after he passed.

You didn’t even check your phone.

“You’re late!” Aidan shouted, “shut up! I tried my best.” You groaned, tossing your purse down on the counter, your phone half hanging out of it as you went to wash your hands. As you turned the water on you heard Ava scream at the top of her lungs, you went running out as Aidan shrieked in surprise by his sister's actions. “What? Are you ok?” You gasped nearly slipping in your socks, “Y/N.” She gaped at you, she had your phone in her hands, “why did Anthony Beauvillier request to follow you?!” She shouted, Aidan snatched the phone, “oh my god.” He mumbled, unlocking the device, seeing that it really was his account. “He what?” You mumbled, yanking your phone out of his grasp, quickly accepting his request, before facing the millions of questions they had.

It felt like an eternity until they stopped asking you things, “well obviously you’re going to the game with us, and you’re borrowing my Beauvillier jersey.” Ava smirked, you began shaking your head furiously, “no, no, no.” You whined, crossing your arms as they gave you glares. “Yes, yes, yes.” They mocked you, “by the sounds of it, he was clearly flirting with you, how could you pass up on him?” Ava dramatically swooned, “besides, maybe you’ll fall in love and you can get me in with Mat.” She giggled girlishly, “puck bunny.” Aidan muttered jokingly, she turned to him quickly, “I’m not afraid to hit you with my stick again.” He didn’t say anything after that as he shifted away from her.

“I’ll go to the game, but you better not embarrass me.” You mumbled in defeat, only wondering what you just got yourself into.

***

“Stalking her now beau?” Mat joked with his friend, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through your Instagram, “shut up.” Tito sighed, faltering as he stumbled across one of your beach pictures. “Oh, damn.” Mat whistled teasingly, he shut himself up when his friend glared at him.

***

“Ava.” You snapped, lightly whacking her hands away, “I’m fixing your hair.” She complained, pouting at you, sneakily grabbing your pony tail and tightening it before you could react, “ow!” You snapped nearly falling on the escalator, Aidan chuckled as you scolded her. “It’s not funny.” You both snapped at the same time as you stepped off the escalator, following them to their seats, you all the clueless to how close to the glass you were really going to be. “Woah.” You gasped, Ava grabbing your hand and pulling you a couple rows down to look up close at the glass, Aidan settled into the seats, snapping a few pictures of the two of you looking out in amazement. “There’s Barzal, oh and pageau, you wanna keep your eyes on them. They’re really good right now.” Ava explained, you nodded listening as your eyes darted around, looking for number eighteen. “Have you spoken to him since that night?” Ava asked as they began skating around the ice, pucks flying everywhere. You stayed silent as you suppressed a smile, easily spotting Anthony as he passed a puck back and forth with Mat. “You have!” Ava gasped, shaking your shoulder violently, “so what if I have?” You mumbled, biting your lip when she looked over at you. “You are something else.” She giggled, shrieking softly when Anthony skated up to the glass, a puck in his hand. He motioned for you to catch it, which you did with ease. “Good luck!” You shouted, hugging the puck close to your chest as he grinned, he gave you a quick wave before going back to skating around.

“That was flirting.” Aidan declared as you both settled into your seats beside him, “yeah, it was.” You surprised them by not arguing, you felt your face warm up as they looked over at you in shock.

The game had gone on without a hitch, the islanders winning 4-1. So you did what you’d promised Anthony, Tito as he requested you call him, you sent him your number.

“Good game, you earned this.”

You felt giddy as you sent him your number, knowing by the time he saw it you would probably be asleep for the night, but the excitement of if he was going to use it, that kept you on your toes.

***

“What can I say, you made me work for it”

“Goodnight, Y/N”

Your heart fluttered more than it should have when you woke up to his messages, bright and early, much earlier than he would be up the day after a game.

“Morning, Tito!”

You sent it, eyes widening as three bubbles popped up instantly.

“Have a good day at work”

You read it over and then saw him typing once again.

“Are you free Friday?”

Your heart nearly lept out of your chest.

“See you Friday”

A confident response that unknowing to you made him nervous, he was never nervous when it came to dates, but you were already so different to him.

You went about your day as normally, occasionally sneaking a moment to text Tito back as he sent you random things throughout the day, including the planning of your date for Friday. He insisted on picking you up, and you agreed, appreciating the chivalry he was showing that not many guys still had.

You were giddy, and he was thrilled, already mentally preparing himself, although he knew once he was around you, it would be easy. It always was.

***

The knock on your door made you inhale sharply, glancing down at your outfit once more, the skinny jeans hugging your curves just right, and the delicate blouse showing just enough skin to be flirty but modest, and it went along with the casual dress code he had established. You quickly zipped up the sides of your wedges, you flipped your loosely curled hair behind your shoulders as you unlocked the door. “Hey, Tito.” You breathed out, smiling at him, the both of you quickly taking in the sight of each other, “hi, you look great.” He complimented, his nerves instantly melting away as you let out a sheepish giggle, “thanks.” Your voice was soft and he soaked up every bit of it, seeing the shy smile adorning your face. “You clean up nice.” You responded, grabbing your purse as he chuckled, looking down at his dark jeans and short sleeve printed button shirt, you took notice of the chain he had underneath it. You shot him a smile as you turned back to him fully, “ready?” You asked, adjusting the purse on your shoulder.

“Ready.”

You burst into laughter as he pulled into the parking lot, the same restaurant you met at, “you’re serious?” You asked through a smile, he nodded, “I mean unless you don’t like it–“ you cut him off as he was about to ramble. You grabbed his hand that was resting on the center console, “no, I love it. It’s really cute honestly.” You assured him, not missing the way he instantly relaxed when you touched him. “Oh, good.” He breathed out, “let’s go inside.”

The hostess did a double take as she saw you two walk in hand in hand. It was the same one from the first night you met, “hello.” She grinned, grabbing two menus, “sitting together, again?” She asked, Anthony nodded brightly. “Yeah.” He answered, letting you walk in front of him as you followed her to a table. “Thanks.” You smiled at her, sitting in your seat, Anthony thanked her as well as he followed behind you. “So, is the chicken any good?” You asked, he broke into laughter, his head tipping back as he gave you an incredulous look. “I think it’s really good.” He answered, snickering as he picked up his menu, you smiled at his reaction, feeling giddy as you knew you were the reason he was having such a good time. “Ok but seriously, what else is good here?” You asked, shifting to an overly serious tone as you scanned over the menu, he smiled at the concentration on your face.

“It’s all good here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @matbarzyy

[myowndesertplaces]

The One Where Beau and Yasha Rescue a Dog

Beau is exhausted. Even though she's made this trip twenty times in the last three months, she still isn't used to riding horseback. Her thighs and ass feel bruised, and not in a good way. This deliberately slow pace is torture, not just for her body, but for her patience too. Teleporting throughout an entire continent in seconds spoiled her, and this trip, which normally takes two hours, is reaching a third.

It's hard to tell since its body is wrapped in her coat and lying across her lap, but she's pretty sure the dog is still breathing. Beau takes turns between which hand holds the reins and the dog. Thank Ioun she has learned how to meditate through pain, because she's pretty sure her forearms may never fully uncramp.

This was stupid, Beau thinks. He probably won't even make the trip. Hey Yasha, I'm home! I brought you a dead dog. I love you!

Fuck. Please don’t die, Red.

…

The first time Beau saw Red, she was entering Zadash for her first time since she and Yasha had moved into their new home. Well, new to them. The old farmer who was selling the property promised it had "good bones" despite appearances. The homestead had a cottage with a small barn, and plenty of acres of land along the woods near a creek. The problem was no one had lived in it for a decade, except mice and squatters. When the farmer's wife had passed, he couldn't bear to stay there any longer, and moved closer to his son in Alfield. Bryce had set them up. It was close enough to Zadash for Beau, and had plenty of space for a garden for Yasha. Plus, they could fuck or fight in the backyard and no one would be within miles to stop them.

After weeks of repairs, the small cottage was starting to look livable. The roof still needed patched, and the walls painted, but it was a project Yasha was happy to do on her own. On more than one occasion, Yasha had caught Beau in the middle of the night scribbling into her journals when Beau couldn't sleep. The trip to Xhorhas and then the month-long renovation had been a happy reprieve from the dead ends and disappointments of trying to dismantle the Cerberus Assembly. Beau knew Ludinus was key, but no one was talking. Her brain had needed the break, but now she was starting to see the threads again. On the morning of her first day back as Expositor Lionett, Yasha kissed her, and then kicked her out the door with a grin.

So on the day she met Red, Beau was in a surprisingly good mood. It wasn't uncommon to see stray dogs and cats roaming outside the gates of Zadash begging for food. Unlike the Tri-spires, the guards on the outskirts of town were too concerned about keeping out bandits than they were about punting small animals. They didn’t encourage patrons to feed the strays, but they didn’t exactly stop anyone either.

Red was alone and filthy. He stood back from the other animals, waiting his turn. His golden red fur was matted with mud. A chunk was missing from his pointed right ear, and there was a scar across his nose. Whatever breed his parents had been, they had mixed to create a skinny amalgamation of "dog." Beau wasn't sure why she noticed him, or why she thought it was a smart idea to feed a stray dog a piece of meat directly from her hand. If she learned anything from Professor Thaddeus, it was that animal handling wasn't one of her strengths. Maybe it was because she knew that's what Jester would do? Or maybe he reminded her of the first time they met Caleb, though she'd never tell him that ("A dog, Beauregard, really?"). Regardless, she felt a need to introduce herself.

"You look like you've seen a few scraps," Beau said, as she reached into her pocket for a piece of bacon. Red's initial instinct was to jump back at her closed fist, ready to be hit. But when she opened her fingers, he took the bacon cautiously, then sped away.

"Yeah, I can relate to that," Beau said, watching him run as the other dogs yipped and barked around her ankles. Then she climbed back onto her horse, and rode toward the Archive.

Over time, feeding Red bacon each time she left or entered the city had become part of her routine. Beau would even ask for extra bacon at breakfast in whatever inn she stumbled into that morning if she knew she was passing by the gates. After a few weeks, Beau noticed an occasional tail wiggle when Red saw her. Maybe Beau just missed the attention from her friends, but damn if that little guy wasn't starting to creep into her heart.

When Red wasn't there to greet her on her way out of the city this evening, a pang of fear swept through Beau.

"Where's Red?" Beau yelled to the guard.

"Who?"

"Red. The dog with the busted ear."

"Listen lady, I don't pay attention to the little shits, I have a job to do," the guard said staring straight ahead toward an oncoming caravan. "Geoff said something about a dog fight over a rat or something this morning. Go check by the trees."

Old Beau would have said something. She would have happily introduced the guard to her right fist and the sole of her boot. But after the past year, she knows shitheads like this guard were the least of her problems. Just knowing she could knock him unconscious in one round was enough.

Underneath a small cluster of trees a hundred and twenty feet away, Beau could see a small mound of gold in the shade. She pressed her heel into the side of Crapper Jr. and galloped to the tree.

Red was curled into himself, shaking. His right front limb was covered in blood, and his breaths were shallow and quick. Beau jumped down from her horse, and slowly walked toward Red, trying not to startle him.

"Hey Red. Hey buddy."

Up close, Beau could see two large bites near his neck and shoulder, and another on his ankle. She was no cleric, but the yellow ooze and the smell couldn't be good. She rummaged in her bag for a med kit, and removed several strips of bandages and an ointment Caduceus had made of flowers from the Blooming Grove in the last day they were all together.

"In case you get into a fight," Caduceus had said. "Helps with pain."

Beau reached for his paw, and Red pulled away with a whimper followed by a half-hearted growl.

"I've been bit by much bigger things than you. Let me help."

Maybe Red understood, or maybe he was just too tired to care, but he allowed Beau to bandage his wounds the best she knew how.

"Now what?" Beau thought. She knew a few clerics in town, but it was almost night, and who would want to treat a stray mutt? Would divine magic even help a dog? Beau thinks she remembers Jester healing Nugget once.

Beau swaddled him in her old coat, and gently cradled him as she climbed back into the saddle and rode toward the cottage.

"I'm taking you home."

...

The sun had set a half hour ago. She knew Yasha wouldn't be worried. Not yet. But the last thing Beau needs is a nocturnal creature from the woods spooking the horse. As she crests the small hill, she can see the smoke and the warm glow from the cottage's windows like a lantern lighting her way.

Beau fights the urge to gallop home. She peels back a corner of her coat to see a tired Red blinking up at her.

"You're still with me? Good. Almost there. Angel's coming."

Beau pulls directly up to her front door, and gingerly slides off with Red in one arm. She doesn't even take Crapper Jr. to the barn, but makes a mental note to reconsider his name in the morning.

"Hey babe? Babe, I'm home. I need you."

Yasha must have been worried and on guard after all, because she bursts through the door, one hand on Magician's Judge, the other on a broken door knob. She's wearing her apron, but to Beau's mild disappointment, she has a light linen shirt and trousers underneath.

"Is it bandits? Did Trent escape?"

Beau lets out a quick, awkward laugh watching Yasha in their doorway, who is seconds away from going into a full rage. She feels a little guilty and stupid now.

"Um, does healing hands work on a dog?"

Yasha blinks. She bends over to rest her sword against the doorframe before she steps toward Beau, her green and violet eyes focus on the bundle in Beau's arms. She pulls back the coat to see a panting, golden mutt with a damaged ear and several bandages soaked with blood and puss.

"I could try?" Yasha says. She pulls the apron over her head with one hand before tossing it back toward the open door, then lays her left hand over Red's skinny ribs.

Beau recalls all the times Yasha has healed her. The touch of her fingers on her skin. The rush of warmth and comfort like a fire in the dark. Within seconds, the bandages peel off and fall to the ground as scabs begin to form over the wounds. Red's breathing slows and the whimpers stop.

"Let me take him," Yasha says, as she lifts him from Beau's arms and carries him into the house. Beau follows into their front room, and resets the door on its hinges. The fire is lit, and the house smells of burning oak and roasted vegetables. Red looks like a newborn baby in Yasha's giant arms as she sits cross-legged slowly in front of the fire place. She lays Red down in front of her before pulling back the layers of Beau's coat.

"What happened?"

"Got into a fight with some other dogs over a rat."­

"Well, rats are delicious," Yasha says rubbing one of Red's ears through her fingers before scratching his chin.

Beau takes a deep breath and looks around her. It's been five days since Beau stood in this room. A glass jar of wildflowers sits near the window just above where Yasha's bone harp rests in the corner. The crochet blanket Jester made of the Traveler shaped like a dick lays over a chair exactly where Beau left it. Apparently, Jester forgot how long sea travel was and needed a new hobby. Behind her is a set of stairs to the second floor and their bedroom. She wonders if the fourth step still creaks or if Yasha fixed it?

It's easier to stay at the Archive for a few days at a time rather than travel every day, especially when she needs to teleport to Rexxentrum. However, after a while, the walls of the library start to feel heavy, like the stacks are standing over her shoulder as she reads. On long nights, she swears she sees a red eye on her hand, or a tooth in a book, and she can never quite get her heart to stop racing.

But she’s here now. Gods, she loves it here. Kamordah certainly never felt like this. No number of magic lanterns and hot meals ever made that house feel warm.  Plus, she has missed Yasha. And right now, Yasha is glowing. The fire ricochets off her skin like a halo. She's so fucking beautiful when she smiles, and Yasha is grinning like a child at the circus as she mixes strokes along Red's back with "scritches" near his jaw.

Beau can feel herself unwind from the shoulders down, and she remembers just how tired she is. Yasha must feel it too, because she stands up to face Beau.

"Hey baby," Yasha says. She places a loose strand of hair behind Beau's ear with one hand, and curls two fingers into one of Beau's open palms.

"Hey." Beau squeezes her hand back and reaches up on her toes for a kiss. It's soft, but quick, more of a greeting than a call to action. Beau places her head on Yasha's chest, and lets her girlfriend's arms wrap her like a blanket. This is her favorite place, Beau thinks. Not the cottage or the cozy fire lit front room. Here. It's always been where she's felt the safest. It's where her brain goes still and control loses its appeal.

"You tired?"

"Dairon and I stayed up most of the night last night reading through old Cerberus Assembly memos from 200 years ago. Plus, I can’t sleep in that cot at the monastery now that I’ve been sleeping in a bed for the last couple months," Beau says directly into Yasha’s left breast. Yup, definitely her favorite place.

"So, who is our new friend?"

"A stray."

"Yes, but why didn't you take him to an animal handler in Zadash?"

Beau had been thinking about that on the ride home. It had taken a better part of an hour to figure out why, and how she was going to explain this.

"Cause you like dogs?"

"Beau."

Yasha pulls back to look down at Beau. She's so good at seeing through her bullshit. Beau sighs, and feels a sudden urge to hide her face back into Yasha's chest.

"I couldn't leave him. He was alone, Yash. Wherever he came from, he either ran away or was thrown away." A familiar pain creeps into Beau's lungs as she speaks. "I couldn’t just take him to some shitty healer who was probably just going to cut his throat as soon as I left. If Red was going to die, at least he was going to die knowing someone gave a shit."

"He already has a name?" Yasha says, her smile curling into a smirk.

"I may have also been feeding him bacon for the last 12 weeks."

Yasha laughs, and presses a kiss to the top of Beau's head.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm adorable,” Beau says. She gives a concerned glance toward Red. “Do we try to feed him now? Should we let him sleep? What about water? He's definitely going to need a bath." Red's eyes are closed, his hind legs pulled underneath him slightly tangled in Beau's coat. He stretches his front legs out in front of him and yawns. It'd be cute if he wasn't covered in dried blood.

"So do you," Yasha says, "You smell like sick dog and horse."

"What happened to not being able to smell? I thought you were Xhorhasian?"

"I've been in the Empire too long. Let him rest while we eat. I made stew."

The kitchen is small with a wood fire oven that covers the bricks around it with a fine layer of soot. Pushed against the far wall sits a small round table with two chairs under a window next to a door that leads to the backyard and garden. The counter takes up most of the kitchen, and on the middle of it rests a cast iron pot with two crochet potholders.

"Orly and Fjord made the potholders. The ugly one is Fjord's,” Jester had written in her letter that came with her blanket, along with an array of cinnamon covered treats from Nicodranus.

The stew sticks to all the right places in Beau's body. Three months ago, Yasha's dinners consisted mostly of crickets and boiled potatoes. But after a few near-Rages over burnt eggs and undercooked game, they had written Caduceus a lengthy letter begging for professional help. He had written back quickly with a list of their favorite recipes from the road and a bag of spices.

"This is Caduceus's roasted vegetable stew, only I added rabbit," Yasha says.

"Itsgood," Beau says with her mouth full. She has to use the back of her hand to wipe the broth off her chin.

Even though it was her idea, Yasha's not eating. One hand rests on her chin, as the other fidgets with her spoon. She spills a carrot onto the table, but doesn't notice. Her eyes dart toward the front room, then back to Beau, then back again, her smile growing like a cloud.

Beau laughs. "You can go sit with him if you want?"

"But you just got home, and you're tired. I want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm better than okay, babe, really. I was kind of hoping for this," Beau says, leaving out the part where she was also worried about secretly burying a dog in the woods if Red hadn't survived the trip.

Yasha pours the bowl of stew down her own throat in one go, scraping the edges with her spoon. The bowl clanks back onto the table as she stands up and pushes the chair in.

"Okay! I'm going to get the water for his bath. I’ll be right back," Yasha says, and practically skips out the back door toward the garden and the well. It's the same energy she had when she first saw the "most glorious creatures" in Caleb's tower on their first date.

My Gods, I love this woman.

…

Maybe Red is less like filthy-Caleb than Beau originally thought and more like Veth, because he seems completely repulsed by water. His claws scratch against stone and tile as he tries to repel himself backwards off the wall of the tub.

"Just. Go. In. Stop. Fighting," Beau says, each word broken up by a swat to the face by Red's tail.  Karma can be a cruel mistress, and Beau is convinced this is retribution for The Nein destroying Marion’s bathtub several months ago.

It takes a few minutes, and a little tough love from Yasha but they wrangle him into the tub. A ring forms around the edges of the well water within seconds, and a few bugs float to the surface.

Yasha is loving every second, ignoring the occasional snap Red makes at the brush. Beau can't help but stare at her large barbarian girlfriend giggling as she scratches soap into Red's neck.

She'd make a great mom, Beau thinks, and then immediately squashes that thought back into whatever hidden corner of her mind it surfaced from. Beau never entertained being a parent. She's still a kid herself, and the last thing she wants is to fuck up someone the way her parents did to her. But maybe she should let herself think about it more. Maybe.

As soon as Red is released from his watery prison, he shakes every drop of water across the bathroom and onto his saviors-turned-sadists. He runs back into the front room, and rolls onto his back to start scratching and wiggling his way across the floor.

"We're even now!" Beau yells after him, wiping the water from her eyes. "You sure have a lot of energy for someone who almost died an hour ago!"

Yasha follows him, and immediately starts to rub his belly. "He's hard to kill, just like his mamas," Yasha says, then blushes. "We are keeping him, right?"

Beau walks towards Yasha, and leans down to kiss her. "It might be nice to have someone to talk to besides the Stormlord when I'm at work."

"I'd like that."

"Well, welcome to the Mighty Nein, Red."

…

They stay like that for an hour in front of the fire, talking, and feeding Red scraps of jerky and leftover rabbit until the room grows dark and they can’t keep their eyes open any longer. Red stays curled up on Beau’s coat as the two women walk up the stairs, his asymmetrical ear twitching as the fourth step squeaks under their weight.

Beau sets the lantern down on the bedside table between a framed pressed flower and two small wooden dogs. She takes one of the figurines in her fingers and smiles, rubbing its side with her thumb.

"I remember when you bought this in Rexxentrum."

"Really?" Yasha says, stepping up behind Beau. Her hands wrap around Beau's slender waist before resting her head on Beau's shoulder.

"Yeah. I'd never seen you so happy. That’s when I realized I was in love with you."

Yasha presses a kiss to her neck, and pulls her in closer. "I love you, too."

Beau can feel one of Yasha’s forearms slide over her chest, the other gripping onto her waist like Yasha’s afraid Beau will slip away if she doesn’t hold on just a little tighter. Beau wraps her fingers around Yasha’s arm and kisses it.

"I really missed you this week, Yash."

The words slip out like a badly kept secret, and she sinks back into Yasha, allowing herself to be held. They rock like that for a moment without urgency. Beau can feel herself falling asleep. Welcomes it. It likely would have taken her too if it hadn’t been for the loud crash of iron hitting the stone floor beneath them.

"Fuck. My stew!" Yasha shouts, and then tears down the steps two at a time.

A cacophony of expletives, barks, and occasional “big boys” escape from the kitchen. It’s impossible to tell who’s winning the argument, but Beau is done investigating for the day. She swan dives backwards onto the bed. She doesn’t even attempt to peel off her clothes. That’s for future Beau to worry about when she wakes in the middle of the night sweating. Yasha will probably be happy to help her.

She closes her eyes and lets herself feel happy, even if it’s just for a moment. Because right now, for the first time in her life, Beau is home

[c-watches-too-many-shows]

‘The One’ - Mat Barzal (Part Two)

It’s finally here! Sorry it took me so long to write it, uni is killing me. Like and reblogs are always appreciated!

Hope you like it!

PS: I didn’t proofread it so almost sure there are some errors sorry!

Part 1

Masterlist

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: implicit mention of sex (?)

-

Tonight was Mat’s night, he was scoring goal after goal and he knew the reason. Every time he had the puke he advanced with one thing in mind: you. Knowing that he could look up and find you there in your old spot between the wags, smiling and cheering for him was all the fuel he needed to play what was probably his best game of the season so far.

You had missed it so much. The mere feeling of being there surrounded by everyone, the atmosphere of the place, it was electrifying. However what you had missed the most definitely was the way his head would instinctively shoot up after each goal, each assistance; his eyes meeting with yours and being able to express to him how proud and happy you were with just one look.

Before you knew it the game was over, the boys rushed to the locker room and you stayed with the girls waiting for them. That’s when the nerves started kicking in. There was only one thing left for the night and you still weren’t sure what to expect.

Ever since your encounter earlier that week you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Nevertheless no matter how much you thought about it you never seem to find an answer to all your doubts. You were still clueless as to how the night could turn out. Were you going to get back together? Or just talk until you came to the conclusion that there was no solution?

Part of you wanted everything to go back to how it was a year ago, get back together and forget you even thought you could live without each other. But another part, the more rational one, kept reminding you that even a year later you still had the same problems you did then, nothing had or could change really. So was it worth trying again just to stumble over the same stone and having to go over the same painful process of walking away from him?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the locker room opened and Mat was the first out.

“Hey superstar!” You walked up to him. His face lit up when he saw you there. This was surely another thing he had missed, having you there to celebrate the triumphs and comfort him after the defeats. He didn’t hesitate and pulled you into his chest, arms holding you tight against him. His smile only grew when he felt you hug him back.

“That was amazing. Really. I haven’t seen you play like that since…” you started to say as you pulled away but words died in your mouth when you realized where the sentence was going.

“I know.” he replied.

“What about me? Wasn't I amazing?” a familiar voice added from behind you and soon you felt an arm around your shoulders.

"Yes you were amazing as well Tito" you said turning to the blonde next to you.

"Thank you." he said before tightening his grip on you, giving you a side hug. Mat observed the interaction happily, trying to hide the grin on his face. "Come on, first round is on me."

"Not today man." Mat mumbled between his teeth, brows raising trying to signal to his best friend this was not the moment. It took Tito second to realize where he was screwing up. Once he did he mouthed a ‘sorry’ to his friend, lips pursed into an awkward grin.

"We can go if you want. I don't mind-" you started to say but he was quick to cut you off.

"I don't want to." he stopped you, sounding a bit rough. You looked at him confused, you knew Mat loved celebrating with the guys after a win, especially after a big one like the one they had today.

"I mean I obviously enjoy going to celebrate after a win, but tonight all I want is to be just us and, you know, talk." he clarified after seeing the muddled look on your face, reassuring you he was okay with missing out tonight, he had something way more important to do.

"Ok.” you agreed with him, knowing that there was a certain conversation that needed to happen. “Let me say goodbye to the rest and then we can go." you told him before turning around and walking away.

He watched you as you hugged his teammates and their partners, loving how you just fitted between them, like you were always meant to be part of this group that had become his chosen family. It was clear to him that you were what was missing from his life, he already knew it but seeing you back in it only confirmed it. In that moment he understood he was willing to do anything to have you back.

"Sorry man I forgot." Tito brought him back to reality. He just titled his neck brushing it off. "So how are you? Nervous?"

"Very." he replied as he kept on shifting his weight from side to side.

"What do you think she'll say?"

"I honestly don't know. I just hope she takes me back. If she says no I-I don't know-" He started getting anxious at the mere thought of you rejecting him. Tito could perceive this and tried to calm him down.

"She's gonna say yes Mat. You two are meant to be, known it since the day you presented her to us."

"I really hope you're right." he replied but you were back before he could start spiraling again.

"Ready?" he asked as you stood next to him. You nodded and went to give Tito a final hug.

“Listen to him. Please.” he murmured into your ear, low enough so Mat wouldn’t hear him. Your heart shrinked, it sounded almost like a pleade.

"Goodbye Beau.” You pulled away with a smile. “Take a shot for me."

"Oh I will."

With that you both turned around and started making your way to the parking lot side to side. Your left hand accidentally brushed his right one and it sent a shock down your spine. Mat obviously noticed your reaction which made you look away, embarrassed of how much effect he still had on you with such little things. You were surprised when you felt his hand slowly slip into yours.

He knew he was taking a risk, not sure what your response would be. However you didn’t pull away, you even gave his hand a slight squeeze. He beamed down at you and a guilty feeling started growing on you. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t want to give him false hopes, especially when you still didn’t know how you wanted the night to go.

-

It was going to be a simple night, no fancy outing or anything, just dinner at his place and then eventually the so equally dreaded and anticipated talk.

Once you were at his place you were surprised to see everything was pretty much the same. Everything was exactly where it used to be, even the portraits with pictures of the two of you and the small basket with blankets he had bought after you had told him how cold his apartment would get some nights. He never understood that until one night, meryl days after your break up when he found himself alone watching the tv unable to sleep shivering, and the only comfort he could get were those blankets. But not necessarily because they kept him warm, only because they still had your essence.

“I obviously didn’t cook.” he informed you as he placed his bag near the door and made his way to the kitchen.

“Obviously.” you teased following him closely.

“We can order whatever you want and .. I bought this” He turned around with a bottle of your favourite wine in his hands. You smiled at the sweet gesture, he still remembered.

As he turned back to grab the corkscrew and open the bottle, you went to the cupboards to grab two glasses. Then passed them to him and took a seat on the counter next to him as he poured the drink. He gave you one glass and proceeded to lean against the kitchen island in front of you.

The whole scene felt so familiar, it had happened countless times when you were together, casual evenings drinking wine in his kitchen as you told him about your day or talked about his last game.

He watched you take a sip of your glass as your eyes wandered through the kitchen and a thought sneaked into his mind, a dirty one. It wasn’t exactly a thought, it was more of a memory. His cheeks went red and he tried pushing it away but he couldn’t.

“Do you remember…” he started to say, not sure if he should bring it up or not.

“Ander’s birthday last year?” you finished his sentence. The same thought had taken over your mind the second you sat on the counter and rested your head against the cupboard.

“Yes!” he let out with a chuckle, letting his head fall back with relief.

“We were wasted.” you pointed out as you remembered that night.

You had both drank a little too much at Anders birthday and after somehow making it back home in one piece you didn’t make it past the kitchen. Your breath hitched as you recalled his strong arms lifting you and placing you on the counter, your hands tangled in his hair, his lips on your neck, your legs around his waist.

“Still some of the best sex I’ve ever had tho.” he pointed out.

“Oh for sure. I still have a small scar in the back of my head as proof.” you added causing both of you to crack up. At some point that night you had hit yourself with the cupboard behind you, but you were so drunk you only realized the morning after.

“We had some good times, didn’t we?” you said reminiscently once the laughter had died.

“We can still have more.” he corrected you.

“Mat...” The gloomy tone on your voice warned him.

“Let’s wait until after dinner to talk about everything, ok?” he suggested and you nodded, not wanting to ruin the nice moment you were just having. There would be time later to have that serious conversation, even if you didn’t want that time to come. He could tell how you were starting to drift away in your thoughts, certainly not good ones, so he rapidly changed the topic. “What do you want to eat then?”

“Maybe pizza? I’m not in a fancy mood.”

“Pizza it is.”

The pizza arrived in a matter of minutes, you insisted on paying since he had bought the wine, and he had to hold back the casual comment of how he’d be paying the next time, because he didn’t know if there would be a next one but he did know pushing you would only lower his chances of ending the night on a good note.

You decided to move the dinner to the living room where you’d be more comfortable. Both of you sat on the large couch, glass of wine in one hand slice of pizza in the other.

-

An hour later the pizza was long gone, so was the wine. You had talked about practically every topic, both of you too scared to touch the one you were there to talk about in the first place.

The room went silent and you knew it was time.

“So …”

“It’s time, isn’t it?” He placed down his glass on the small table, getting ready for what was about to come.

“Didn’t you want to have this conversation?” you chirped him up a little to take the tension off.

“I did- I do! Doesn’t change the fact I’m nervous as hell.” He ran his hand through his hair, something he’d do when he was on edge.

“Don’t be, it's same old me Mat.” you told him trying to calm him down, but also trying to calm yourself, reminding you it was Mat after all. No matter how things turned out tonight, it was Mat, nothing bad could happen.

He took a deep breath, mentally going over everything he needed to say. He had even practiced it with Tito, something his best friend would tease him about for the rest of their lives. He wanted to have the right words to express how he felt, scared one wrong move could blow his last chance with you.

“I missed you so much Y/N. I still can't believe I ever let you go. I replay that night in my head over and over again and I don’t understand how I just let you leave. We were having a fight because I was gone all the time and when I wasn’t gone you were working, and I was mad because there was nothing I could do about it and you were mad too. I don’t even remember who proposed it-”

“It was me. I was the one who said maybe breaking up was the better option.” you cut him off. Flashbacks of that night started rushing to your head as he spoke and you certainly remembered things differently.

“It wasn’t just a fight Mat, it was the same fight over and over again. I know that sometimes we forget about the bad things and just keep the nice memories, that’s what we were doing days ago in the coffee, but the bad moments still existed Mat, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Towards the end we’d fight almost weekly and it was always the same, we fought until we were exhausted and then we’d just push it away and pretend everything was fine because we both knew there was no solution for our problems.”

You told yourself you’d have an open mind, not discard the idea of getting back together immediately because you knew part of you wanted that. Nevertheless ignoring the problem you had would not solve anything. You needed Mat to accept things weren’t good, recognize you had problems. If not things were destined to fail once again.

“I know. I know we had problems, I remember the fights, but we can learn from them. It doesn’t have to be like that this time.” he was quick to add. It sounded childish but he had thought of good comebacks, almost as if he was preparing for an exam, the hardest and most important of his life.

However you had good arguments too. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe this time would be different but how could it be if everything was still the same?

"Nothing has changed Mat. You still have to travel and train and even if you could somehow spend less time away it would be selfish from me to ask you to. It's your dream Mat I'm not gonna do that. Plus I'm putting my job first too so it would be hypocritical of me to ask you not to do the same."

He knew what you were doing, he knew you too well not to. You were closing the door before it was even open because you were scared. Still he understood why it was like that, you were right up to a certain point, but he wasn't about to give up, not when he finally had the chance to say everything he had been wanting to ever since that horrible night.

“You’re just thinking about the bad things. Remember all the good times we had Y/N, don’t you think it’s worth it? Because I sure think it is.”

In a leap of faith he scooted closer to you and grabbed your hands that were resting in your laps. He needed the contact, he needed you to feel how honest he was being, how much he wanted this.

“We still have it, I know we do, I felt it in the coffee shop days ago, tonight at the game, on the drive here, as we were having dinner. I know we have it, I know we can make it.”

That all too familiar knot started forming in your throat and your vision went blurry with tears that threatened to fall any second. He was tearing down your barrier, but behind it all you could show were the wounds from the past.

"I don't want to go through it again Mat. It hurt-” you started to say but your voice broke mid sentence, you couldn't hold it anymore. “The fighting, the impotence, the break up, trying to move on. It all hurt too much I can't do all of that again." you cried out, too busy feeling all the emotions you had bottled up to feel embarrassed for the scene you were causing.

Mat was heartbrokened. He hated that he was the reason for those tears rolling down your cheeks. For a moment he considered giving up, he couldn't see you like that anymore, he couldn't bear the thought of him being what caused you so much hurt.

But he didn't. ‘One last time’ he told himself. One last time and if you said no then he’d accept it. It would kill him yes, but he would accept it because you were all that mattered to him and if letting you go was the right thing for you he'd do it. He'd do anything for you.

With that in mind, knowing it would be his last attempt, he started getting anxious. He could feel you slowly slipping away from him. Nerves got the worst of him, it was evident when he started talking again.

"But we don't have to. We won't Y/N. You're it for me, I promise if we try again I won't let you go this time. Well I mean you can break up with me if we get back together obviously, I won't force you or anything- what I mean is I won't break up with you- Not that I ever wanted! But I-" he started stumbling on his words and you couldn't help but giggle. He felt pathetic but at least he was able to make you somehow feel better throughout the tears, that was a bit gratifying.

However he still needed to get it together, so he took a final deep breath trying to gather his thoughts. Already knowing what his next words were going to be he moved closer and gently placed a hand on your face, making sure you were looking at him when he said it because he needed you to see how much he meant it.

"I love you Y/N. I still do and I dont think I'll ever stop loving you.” Your eyes went wide at his words, deep down you knew it, but hearing it was different. You never thought you'd hear those words from Mat’s lips again, yet he was right in front of you saying it, looking at you with all the love in the world, and something started building inside of you.

“These past few months showed me what a life without you is like and I don't ever want to go through that again.” he continued, now more confident after seeing your reaction. “I want to wake up next to you. I want you to tell me about what weird dream you had while I make us breakfast. I want to pick you up from work every afternoon. I want you to wear my jersey and take you to all my games. I want silly fights about which movie we should watch. I want to come home to find you asleep on the couch and pick you up and tug you to sleep. I want to show you off to everyone. I want to make up after every fight. I want to start and end every single day with you. I want to get married and have kids and grow old.”

With every sentence your smile only grew bigger, you tried to contain it but you couldn’t hide it anymore. Mat noticed this and got so excited he kept on going to the point he even forgot where he was going so he took a pause before finishing his confession.

“What I’m trying to say is: I love you Y/N. I love you so much and I know we can make it work. Please give us a second chance”

You looked at his eyes one final time. They were full of hope, something you lacked but you were sure he had enough for both of you. All the reasons why this wasn’t going to work didn’t matter anymore, not when you had the love of your life in front of you telling you he still loved you, fighting for you, reassuring you you’d make it this time. You couldn’t say no to him, most importantly you didn’t want to. You wanted him as much as he did, you missed him as much as he did and you loved him as much as he loved you.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, needing the extra touch as encouragement to say something you’d been holding in for too long.

“I love you.” you whispered, lips less than an inch apart from his, noses touching. Your eyes were closed but you could feel his smile. He let out a deep breath, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally being lifted off his shoulders. He couldn’t count how many nights he dreamed of you saying those words to him, it was surreal.

“I love you” he replied before shortening the distance between your lips and finally kissing you.

It was all he had imagined and more. He already knew your lips, but this time it was different, his heart fluttered the second your his lips were on yours.

It started as a gentle kiss. You’d smile against each other, giggles escaping from both of you because you couldn’t contain your happiness. Whispering ‘I love you’s between kisses. It was a mess of a kiss, but a beautiful one.

Then your hands sneaked to the back of his neck, pulling him closer till there was no space between your bodies. You leaned back on the couch with Mat on top of you. It was slow and soft, bodies melting into each other. One of his hands stayed on your face, thumb caressing your cheek, while the other went to your waist. Your hands started roaming over his body; his neck, his shoulder, his back, his hair. He yearned for your touch.

It soon turned into an openmouthed kiss, almost sexual. It was fiery, full of passion, almost like your bodies missed each other for so long and now that they were back together you couldn’t pull away, but you also didn’t want to. At some point he turned you around, making you lay on top of him. Now his hands were the ones wandering over your body.

The kiss was long and it only ended when you had run out of breath, if not it could have gone on forever.

“I missed that.” he breathed out, unable to breath. Your forehead still gently placed against his.

“Me too.” you replied with a hoarse voice trying to catch your breath.

“I missed you.” he added, accentuating the ‘you’. You lift your head to look at him.

“I miss you too Mat.” you murmured placing a final kiss on his lips before nestling in his chest. He hummed in content, leaving one hand in your lowback and the other going to tenderly stroke your hair.

“I honestly was expecting you to try and extort me with a puppy.” you said out of the blue making him laugh, feeling his chest vibrate against your cheek with every laugh.

“Oh Tito suggested it and I thought about it, but you’re too smart, wouldn’t have fallen for it.”

“I don’t know, maybe it would have saved us all this trouble.” you joked, placing your chin on his chest to see his face.

“Excuse me?” He looked down at you with furrowed brows and an offended expression. “I just opened my heart for you and you call it ‘trouble’?” You were the one laughing now and he soon joined.

“God I missed this.” he said, pressing you impossibly closer to his body.

“I love you.” you told him once again, stretching your neck to place a kiss under his jaw. He’d never get tired of hearing those words coming from you.

“I love you too.” he replied, placing one on the top of your head.

With your heart beating against his, for the first time in months, he felt at home. That piece that had been missing was finally back, he was complet.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

complication, miscommunication - a. beauvillier

Popping in with another Beau fic! I wasn’t sure who to write this one about for the longest time, so it was on the back burner for a while, but I think it works really well with him. Let me know what you think - hop into my inbox, please reblog it if you liked reading! (I also love reading the tags.) I love getting feedback!

word count: 3k+

The offseason was never a good time for anyone who was unsigned, and Anthony Beauvillier was no exception. After a second-round loss to the Hurricanes in the playoffs, he was taking some time off before leaving New York to spend the summer in Montréal. “Maja,” he called, looking over at the couch to where his girlfriend of a year and a half sat curled up on the other side, seemingly engrossed in a book. Anthony chuckled. “Maja,” he said a little louder. She made a noncommittal noise. “Maja Mitsuko Okabe.”

Maja snapped her book shut, looking up at him with panic in her eyes. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?” 

He snorted. “Does something have to be wrong for me to talk to the woman I love?”

“You full-named me,” Maja shrugged, tucking her feet beneath her on the couch cushion. “Doesn’t usually happen.”

Anthony searched his mind, frantically trying to come up with some excuse for interrupting her, but not coming up with anything that would sound very convincing. “I was just wondering...if you had booked your flights yet for the summer.” 

Maja narrowed her eyes; she clearly wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, booked them yesterday. Air Canada nonstop from LaGuardia to Montréal.” She had requested the time off two weeks ago, and would have heard back sooner had it not been for a staffing change in the HR department of the green energy firm where she worked as an electrical engineer. “I’ll try to get a Friday off sometime in August, come up for a long weekend.”

“I’d like that,” he said. Of course I’d like it,” he thought. Why wouldn’t I like it? Why did I even say that? 

“Something’s on your mind, Beau,” Maja said softly. And, like almost every other time she said so, she was right.

“Yeah,” he sighed. There wasn’t really any use trying to keep it from her. “I’m not sure if the team’s going to give me a qualifying offer.”

Maja shifted towards him on the couch, propping her head up on one arm. “And who told you that?” 

“Nobody, really,” Beau said, shrugging. “It’s just a bad feeling I have. My season wasn’t bad, but I still underperformed, and I know Trotz and Lou were looking for me to step up in terms of goals. Playmaking isn’t everything.” Anthony’s voice dropped. “I know I obviously wouldn’t be able to do anything until I know if they’ll extend an offer, but…” He paused. “My agent’s heard some interest from other teams. Guess they just want to throw their hats in the ring if it comes to that.” 

Maja played with the clasp on her bracelet, the same one Anthony had gotten her for their one-year anniversary. “Where?” 

“Winnipeg, Minnesota, I think he might have mentioned something about Edmonton.”

“Oilers, huh?” Maja said carefully. “Playing with McDavid, that could be cool.” 

Beau made a face. “I mean, yeah, it would be, but…” He trailed off. “But that’s in Edmonton. It’s thousands of miles away. I’d hate having to leave the team, I wouldn’t get to play with Mat anymore. And I don’t know where that would leave us.” 

“What do you mean, you don’t know where that would leave us? I’d go with you, I thought you knew that.” Maja stopped playing with her bracelet. She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like there was never a possibility she would have considered anything else. 

Anthony turned to her. “But you love it here. You love your job, you’re doing important stuff.” 

And that much was true; Maja loved feeling like she was using her knowledge for good, and her coworkers were some of the best she’d ever had. But she loved Tito more. “I am, but I can find a job pretty much anywhere, Beau. It’s important to me that we stay together.” 

“But what if I do go back to Canada?” Anthony said, one hand running through his hair. “Your whole family’s in Boston, I wouldn’t want to take you away from that. And you don’t know anyone there, and I wouldn’t want you to have to move to an entirely new country just for me.” 

“It’s really not all that different, Beau,” Maja said, stiffening. “I’m an engineer. I can get a job anywhere, I might have to get a new license but it’s not that hard. Weather wouldn’t be a shock, I’ve dealt with snow my whole life. And unless you went to Montréal, it’s not even like I’d have a language barrier.” 

“I know,” he said, “but I don’t want you to feel like it’s an obligation for you to pick up your whole life and move just because of me.” 

Maja stood up abruptly, nervously running her hands over her jeans. “It’s starting to sound like you wouldn’t want me to come, Anthony,” she snapped. 

He screwed his eyes shut. She didn’t call him by his whole name unless she was really, really fed up with him. “It’s not that, I just—” 

“You just what?” Maja cut him off. “Because whether or not it’s what you meant by it, Beau, the way you worded it makes me think you’re not serious about this. About us. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am, so I’m going to need you to do some real soul-searching and get back to me about how you really feel, because it sounds like we’re working on a deadline here.” She turned on her heel, grabbed her jacket, and walked out the door. 

---

Anthony didn’t like that they weren’t talking. Granted, it had only been a day and a half, but it was rare that he and Maja went that long without FaceTiming or calling each other, even when he was on a road trip. It just wasn’t something they did. And it also wasn’t like he had to think about his answer, about how serious he was about his relationship with Maja. It was one of the most important things in his life. But, just like the fight that had led him to this moment, pacing around in his kitchen with a rapidly burning piece of toast in the toaster, he was worried. Worried to talk to her, worried he’d seem like he was being pushy if he did, worried he’d seem like he didn’t care if he didn’t. He was tempted to call Mat, or even Jordan, but didn’t want the inevitable tongue-lashing that either was sure to give him. He knew he had to fix it, but he didn’t know how. 

Anthony lay on his bed later that evening, his phone on speaker next to him, playing nervously with his hands. Sometimes, even though he was almost 24, there were things he just couldn’t go to his friends for. Mat was his best friend and he loved him, but he needed someone else for this. He needed his mom. “I know my flight’s supposed to leave in a few days, but Maman...I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave things like this.” 

“Then you don’t,” his mom shot back over the phone, her French terse. “I raised you better than this, Anthony. You don’t leave the women you love unsure of where your relationship stands, where the two of you stand. You love her.” She said it more like a statement. 

“More than anything,” he replied morosely. 

“Then you stay, you go over and talk to her. And if that means you’re in New York for a few more days, then so be it. Your dad and I can wait. Québec will still be here when you’re done. What’s more important right now is Maja, and that you fix this.” 

Anthony groaned, his head hitting the pillow. “You’re right.” 

“What was that?” she replied, even though he knew she had heard him just fine. 

“You’re right, Maman. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t what I meant. I need to fix this.” 

He could see her nodding on the other end of the line. “You do. Go to her.” She had barely hing up the phone before Anthony was frantically tugging on his shoes and stumbling out the door. 

Anthony was outside of her door less than half an hour later; it would have been earlier, but New York traffic didn’t seem to care that it was past 10 PM. He knocked on her door frantically; he could have used his key, but it just didn’t feel right. He heard her pad down the hallway towards the living room. “I’m coming.” She opened the door, her mouth slightly agape when she saw who it was. “I thought you were maintenance. The bathroom faucet’s been leaky.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “At,” he checked his watch, “10:12 PM?”

Maja shrugged. “Night shift?” She stepped aside to let him in. “I’m guessing you want to talk.” Maja was intuitive; even more than that, though, she knew Anthony better than anyone. He didn’t like to let conflict sit, knowing it would only get worse with time. She walked over to her couch, gesturing for him to sit, her arms crossed. “So talk.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said the other day, for making you feel insecure in our relationship and for letting you doubt how committed I am. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you get it, though?” Maja questioned. “Do you get why it hurt me so much?”

Anthony did. He knew he did, so why was it so hard to admit it? He settled for a stiff nod.

She sighed. “Because it made me feel like you weren’t as serious about us, our relationship, as I am. I read your cautioning me against moving with you if you ever got traded as you not wanting me to, which made me feel like you just had no interest in building a life with me, in taking the next step. And that’s what hurt so badly, because I knew the second you mentioned it that that’s something I’d do in a heartbeat for you.” Maya looked over his head, her fixing her eyes on a picture of Anthony from his first home game, trying to collect her words. “It seemed like you didn’t see us lasting, nothing long-term that would require those kinds of sacrifices and choices to be made. Almost like I had wasted my time, this past year and a half, on someone who couldn’t care less if I stayed or went.”

Anthony leaned forward, hesitantly reaching for her hands, wrapping his fingers around hers when she didn’t pull back. “I know how my words came out was wrong, and I take full responsibility for that. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but I think I did because I was worried, and didn’t want to assume you’d be willing to do something so drastic as move thousands of miles and potentially to a whole new country just because I asked you.”

“Relationships mean compromise and sacrifice,” Maja said. “And I didn’t think it was fair for me to feel like I was the only one doing either.”

“You weren’t,” Anthony shook his head. “You aren’t.” 

“I never got what you meant about worrying about the distance,” Maja said. She scrunched her nose. “Okay, I take that back like halfway. I got what you were saying about it being hard. It would be, of course it would be. But it’s not like we haven’t done it before. You’re gone a couple times a month during the season, and then most of the summer in Québec apart from when I could get off work for a week or two. And sure, it was rough, but we got through it. So I heard you not wanting me to come with you, and me not seeing a need to stay here, and didn’t see where you saw us going. If you saw us going somewhere. That’s what hurt the most, I think.”

“Moving without ever having lived together just seemed like a big step. I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for, but I would have hated it just as much if suddenly you were off in a new state or country all alone in an apartment some place where you didn’t know anybody. It wouldn’t have been fair.” 

Anthony had a point, Maja thought, as she moved her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “Have you thought about that, though? Things going forward, moving in together, all of that?”

He met her eyes, and now it was his time to stare at her like she had just asked the world’s most obvious question, like there was no possible parallel universe where she didn’t already know the answer. “Absolutely, Maja. I’ve thought about everything.”

“Everything?” she asked, her thumb stopping momentarily. “What’s everything?”

Anthony smiled softly at her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her gently into his side. “Everything means everything. Moving in together. Getting a nice house in Garden City, or wherever we’ve settled by then. The day I finally get to put a ring on your finger,” he said, absentmindedly rubbing the fourth finger on her left hand. “Getting to wake up to your beautiful face every day, and never having to leave. Taking our kids to visit your grandparents in Japan, trying to figure out how to raise them trilingualy.” 

“Really?” Maja laughed, a watery laugh filled with disbelief and hope and unfettered joy somehow bound into a single noise. “You’ve thought about that?”

“Of course I have,” he said simply.

“You said kids, so it’s going to be multiple?” Anthony hummed his agreement. “How many were you thinking?” 

He tilted his head. “I like three. Seems like it’d work well. But that would obviously be up to you,” he chuckled. “Not like I’d be the pregnant one.”

Maja couldn’t remember the last time her heart felt this full. The way he spoke about their future — the house and the wedding and the kids — so easily and freely made Mja nearly positive that it had been something he had been thinking about for a while. “Three sounds good.”

---

5 years, $20 mil, the text read. Anthony didn’t really care that he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, not until they made the news official. But he had to tell Maja, tell her they were staying out, had to let her breathe a little easier and stop worrying about having to type up a two week’s notice and figure out how to apply for a Canadian visa. He knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but Maja was more important than that, and she deserved to know, and if that got him a slap on the wrist from the team, then so be it. He looked down at his watch; it was half past 5, so Maja was on the subway back to her apartment if she hadn’t already arrived. He hung a U-turn, changing directions from his place to hers. This wasn’t something he wanted to wait for. It didn’t take him long to pull into the visitor’s parking at her apartment building, muscle memory guiding him into the elevator and up to the third floor. 

“Coming!” Maja said as he knocked on the door. She flung her arms around him as the door swung open, her toes barely touching the floor. “I’m so proud of you, love,” she whispered into his shoulder, her voice muffled by his sweater. Stepping aside, she let him into her living room, where he was greeted by a counter filled with take-out containers. “I might have assumed you’d come by,” Maja admitted, “so I went out to that Indian place you like and picked up some stuff. Figured you’d be hungry.” 

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind as she spooned out the rice and butter chicken. “Thank you,” he said, pressing a kiss against her cheek. “You’re always one step ahead.” Dinner was a quiet affair, Anthony cleaning up their plates and putting the leftovers in the fridge before joining Maja on the couch, her back pressed up against his chest as the Good Place played on the TV. 

“I really am proud of you, you know,” she said softly, twisting her head to look up at him. “I know it’s something you worked really hard for and were worried about, and I’m so glad it worked out for you.” 

He squeezed her thigh in appreciation. “Thanks, babe. And again, I’m sorry about how I told you, how I interpreted everything and spoke too soon. It wasn’t fair to me and it wasn’t fair to you.”

“Don’t keep beating yourself up about it,” Maja said. “You’re right that it wasn’t a good move, but you apologized and took responsibility for it, and that’s what really matters. As long as you weren’t just trying to butter me up when you talked about the future.” 

Anthony knew it was tongue-in-cheek and that she was teasing him, if the half-smirk on her face was anything to go by, but he shook his head all the same. “Of course it wasn’t. I meant every word.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Don’t resign your lease.” He knew that she had almost a month until she had to give the papers to her landlord, but she’d also been toying around with the idea of moving to a place a little closer to her work. 

Maja looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide. “Don’t resign my lease?”

He nodded. “Move in with me, I can fly down for a few days to help whenever you decide you want to. Move in with me, let’s start that future now.” If he was being honest, it had been something Anthony had been thinking about for months. He just finally got the courage to ask. 

“When can I start?”

[butgilinsky]

40 and 43 with Anthony Beauilliver please if you write for him if not totally just ignore this!

40- Am I your husband or your taxi service?

43- Pick up lines only work when I’m drunk.

anthony knew to cut himself off early in the night when he noticed you throwing back more drinks than you usually did on a night out. your hands were interlocked with piper’s, mat’s girlfriend, and you both laughed about something neither anthony nor mat had any idea about.

“you’re in for a fun night.” mat nudged anthony with his elbow while pointing at you and piper. you were noticeably more drunk than piper, but anthony couldn’t seem to care much when he found it hard to tear his eyes away from your bright smile.

before anthony had a chance to respond, you were in front of him, leaning into him while smiling up at him.

“hi!” your arms wrapped around his back, hugging him tightly as he laughed gently at you.

“hi bébé.” he kissed your forehead gently, listening to you sigh out in content. “ready to go home?”

your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on the feeling of his fingertips on your lower back, tracing patterns beneath the hem of your top. you nodded at his question, standing straight up to bid mat and piper a goodbye before anthony tugged on your hand, towards the exit of the bar.

you swung your hands together as you walked, amusing anthony when you tried to get him to skip beside you. you squeaked when you found the car, excited to be engulfed in warmth and comfort as you slid into the passenger seat.

you were only two minutes into the drive when you sat up straight, a loud gasp bubbling in your throat.

“tito, can we go get mcdonald’s?” you looked over at him with wide eyes that made him chuckle softly.

“am i your husband or your taxi service?” you rolled your eyes and pointed when you saw one, hitting his bicep repeatedly.

“beau look, there’s one right there!” you whined when he passed it, a devious smile stretching across his lips. “anthony.” you whined loudly, pouting when he just laughed at you again. he knew you were drunk from the way you couldn’t pick one name to call him, a habit you’d had throughout the entirety of your relationship. 

he was going to get you food, he was just messing with you for as long as he could manage. he knew there were two more mcdonald’s on your route home, and it was far easier to get in and out of the one closest to your apartment than the one you just passed.

your eyes drifted to your boyfriend, a smile gracing your lips as you admired him from your seat.

“what are you staring at?” he glanced at you for a moment, quickly turning his attention back to the road ahead of him.

“you must be made of cheese, because you’re looking gouda tonight.” anthony let out a loud cackle at the cheesy line, shaking his head at you while he tried to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

“babe, you know pick up lines only work when I’m drunk.” you rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh as you slumped back into your seat.

you glares at him when his hand fell onto your thigh, gripping it softly as he continued your path home. you zoned out, letting your mind wander over multiple different topics before anthony was patting your thigh enough to grab your attention.

your eyes lit up when you realized you were in line at the drive thru, the familiar golden arches making your stomach moan in hunger.

“what do you want?” you smiled widely as you told him what you were craving, your mouth watering at the thought of food.

you leaned over the center console when you were stood still in the line, bringing your lips to your boyfriend’s cheek.

“je t’aime.” you spoke softly, watching the smile that never failed to melt your heart spread across his lips.

“je t’aime, chérie.”

[cankarmawrite]

Undercover AU - Planning

So far, Beau had considered her mission a success.

She’d been laying low in a Milan safe-house after completing a covert information recovery mission. There had been some brief firefight after tripping an alarm she hadn’t noticed before, but Beau made it out of the diplomat’s villa with the information she was tasked with retrieving and her life. That was all she could really ask for at the end of the day, and for now, it was enough.

After downloading the information from the small device- a Jester Lavorre original- she began the tedious process of encrypting the data with her personal cipher. About 45 minutes into her encryption, a small notification flashed in the corner of her screen. Something had set off one of the various motion detectors around the safe-house. Her fingers stilled on the keyboard and pulled up the camera feeds for the property. Something- or someone- moved just at the edges of the back patio camera’s field of view.

Her senses immediately when on high alert, hand reaching for the pistol strapped to the bottom of the desk where she sat. Beau was certain she hadn’t been followed all the way here, and none of her fellow agents were supposed to approach because she’d activated the signal that meant it was in use. This had to be someone else.

Beau completed the familiar process of checking her gun over. The weight of the metal and roughness of the grip comforted her as she crouched and approached one of the windows from the side. Even with the wooden blinds drawn shut, there was still a thin area between each slat where she could peer out at the world safely. 

When she was sure nothing was there, Beau exhaled a slow breath and began to move to the next window, flicking the kitchen lights on as she went to draw attention away from the direction she was moving. She thought about checking the camera feeds again, but was stopped by a slow, patterned knock at the front door. 

It wasn’t a pattern used by the CIA, but somehow it was still familiar to her. As she approached the front door, gun held aloft and steady, Beau clicked the safety off and rolled her shoulders to relax them. She always pulled her shots when her body got too tense in the heat of the moment. 

She must’ve taken long enough to answer the intruder’s knocking because the pattern was repeated again, this time a little more forcefully. Something clicked in her brain the second time she heard the pattern, a distant fuzzy memory from her chaotic Amsterdam mission three years ago. 

“It can’t be…”

The whisper escaped before she could think to hold it back. Her usually steady hands shook as she undid multiple locks on the front door before throwing it open without care or caution. 

Holy fuck, it is her.

“Beau…I finally found you.” 

That’s all Yasha had the energy to say before she collapsed in a bloodied heap on Beau’s doorstep, the various weapons hidden across her body clanking loudly as her body hit the stone tile floor. 

“Yash!” 

Beau immediately rushed to the injured woman’s side, taking a moment to look over the state her former...friend was in. 

Yasha looked like she’d been through hell and back. Dark bruises and various scrapes were covering the pale expanse of skin exposed by the black tank top she wore. Beau noticed wetness pooling at her knee and grunted as she flipped Yasha on her side to see what was producing all this blood. 

There was a deep bullet wound in Yasha’s lower back bleeding steadily, which made her think the other woman had removed the projectile some time ago and hadn’t stopped to patch herself up. The bullet wound wasn’t what caught Beau’s attention though.

With an uneasy feeling rising in her stomach, Beau began bunching Yasha’s shirt up to expose more of her back, and more of what Beau thought she’d seen. 

Scars. Tons of them crisscrossing Yasha’s back in a jagged patchwork of raised pink skin and faded white lines. Most of them were new, which brought tears to her eyes. What had Yasha been through in the years since she’d left Beau alone in a hotel room in Paris with nothing but a hastily scribbled note on her pillow?

Beau shook herself from her memories and rose to fetch the medical kit from the bathroom, her blood-covered hands fumbling with supplies as she grabbed anything she could think of to help save Yasha. 

After a few minutes of cleaning and packing the few deepest wounds, Beau sat back on her heels and looked over her handy work. She’d stitched a few things up the best she could, but her sutures were nowhere near as good as what Caduceus would have done. The neatness of stitches aside, she was fairly sure Yasha would survive the night. 

Beau didn’t sleep that whole night. 

---

That happened days ago. She’d returned to the US with a very nervous Yasha by her side, bringing the woman into the CIA with her where the former Angel of Irons Operative had announced her intentions to defect and requested asylum. The Directors of the CIA had flat out refused to help. They didn't even grant Yasha asylum, simply their assurance that no action would be taken against her by the CIA while she was on American soil. Beau was obviously upset by this and, after verbally berating the Directors, had received a suspension of her field privileges.

Beau took two days of leave to make sure Yasha was safe and being looked after by trusted friends. When she returned, it was like watching a storm cloud tear through the office. She scowled and snapped at friendly faces, disobeyed simple orders, and told off the Directors...again.

Now Dairon was watching Beau in the training room as she sparred with some newer agents, though spar was a generous word in this case. The senior agent could tell Beau was taking her anger at the Directors out on the younger agents she was supposed to be mentoring. They’d decided to step in and allow Beau to work some frustration out, but hadn’t been ready for the fury behind Beau’s strikes. She was sloppier than normal, had let in a few hits that normally would have been easy blocks, things that concerned Dairon immensely.  

“Do you remember the oath you took?”

Beau does, of course, but she doesn’t give Dairon any indication that she’s heard them. After gritting her teeth, Beau's fists fly forwards in a quick series of jabs aimed at some of the trigger points Dairon drilled into her head early on, though the blows are easily deflected by the seasoned fighter.

"You're acting like a love-sick teen." 

She wants to throw a punch at Dairon for that comment, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lifts her chin defiantly and swipes at her nose with a single taped hand. Crimson immediately spreads across the white material wrapped there. Dairon shakes their head and deflects more sloppy hooks and uppercuts.

“You’re being reckless. You’re better than this Beauregard.”

This time Beau crouches and feints a sweep of Dairon’s legs- which her mentor falls for- before launching herself up at Dairon with a quick one-two combo that catches them in their solar plexus and across the jaw. 

Her fist is pulled back to strike again when Dairon dives at Beau’s knees and sends them both tumbling to the mat below. The younger agent squirms underneath, attempting to break Dairon’s pin with a variety of techniques. When learned techniques fail, Beau resorts to just blindly trying to land a hit. One flailing limb strikes Dairon where a bullet recently passed through and they hiss in pain before moving to pin Beau’s fists by her head. 

“Enough Beauregard! Enough...” 

The agent above her was breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight. They still hadn’t been officially cleared by medical staff for training, but Dairon felt a personal responsibility for Beau's well-being and that meant making sure their young friend didn't make any rash decisions. 

Beau finally gives in with a shout of frustration and lets her head fall back against the mat. Her usually bright blue gaze is dark with frustration and heavy with tears that refuse to fall.  

"I have to do something Dai...I can't stay silent knowing what I do about the Angel of Irons."

Darion sighed as they stood, grimacing in pain as they offered a hand to Beau. “Please don’t throw your career...your life away for some trivial-” 

The younger woman ignored Dairon's offered hand and instead executed a kip-up that would have made her mentor proud any other day. Beau was so familiar with the physics of the move and the strength of her own body that it hardly took any conscious thought. Beau was in Dairon's face the moment their feet hit the mat again, blue eyes blazing with a determination the older agent hadn't seen in a while.

“You don’t get to decide what’s trivial to me Dairon. I’m going to do the right thing, even if the agency won’t support me.“

Dairon’s eyes hold an expression of quiet regret and something that might be fear, but Beau doesn’t stay long enough to psychoanalyze. She hears her former mentor call after her once, but Beau doesn't spare a glance back. 

The sound of the metal doors slamming shut behind Beauregard's retreating form echoes in Dairon’s mind for months. 

---

“Beau, are you sure about this? You know we support you one hundred percent, but this could be suicide if we aren’t prepared.”

The woman in question turned to Fjord with a sigh, he was one of the people she’d known longest in this business. A talented former Navy Seal who’d left the service after one of his teammates sold information to the enemy and helped lead an attack on the base where his teammates slept. Fjord’s mentor, Vandren, had been killed during the raid on their compound, and Fjord had nearly lost his own life as well.

“Then we’ll be prepared Fjord, we can’t sit here and do nothing. The CIA flat out refused to help even though Yasha was requesting asylum.” She frowned and took a steadying breath, now was not the time to lose her temper...again. 

“I won’t reveal everything I know about the Angel of Irons, that’s Yasha’s story to tell, but I will tell you that I will still try to do this, even if none of you come.”

The half-orc frowned at that and laid a friendly hand on Beau’s tense shoulder, “You are not going alone, Beau. I believe you...I just don’t want this to be a repeat of Am-”

“Yeah yeah yeah, Amsterdam. That wasn’t totally my fault-”

“The car in the canal Beau.”

“Hey! There was no one in the other car and I paid for the damages myself.” She huffed, brushing Fjord’s hand off her shoulder as she moved back towards the center of the room where planning was already in progress. 

Another set of hands settled on Beau’s shoulders as she took a seat in a folding chair by the blueprints that were already covered in scribble and symbols from various people. This time they were blue and smelled faintly of burnt wiring and gunpowder. 

“Beauuu...Fjord is just being a party-pooper. I already have some super cool things in the workshop, aaaand Veth and I still haven’t found a system in the world that can keep us out so this will be easy-peasy.” Jester chattered happily away in Beau’s ear as she used those magical thumbs to massage all of the tension from her shoulders. 

After a few minutes of listening to Jester talk about the latest system updates she installed to help this operation run more smoothly, how her mother was doing, and what kinds of cereal she'd bought to stock the safehouse, Beau patted one of Jester's hands twice to signal that she was okay now.

"Thanks, Jessie."

"Oh! Caddy said that Yasha was patched up all nicely before he left. She's been sleeping for a while so you should go check on her." This statement was accompanied by a very heavy-handed wink from Jester, which of course drew an exaggerated eye-roll from Beau.

"I'm going, I'm going." 

Jester's devious snickers followed Beau as she headed upstairs to check on Yasha, wholly unaware of the small post-it note on her back that said, "Kiss me."

[unicyclehippo]

after the events of the clash beneath the cathedral, the nein return to the cobalt soul to rest and recover.

‘you are well, beauregard?’ caleb asks in that slightly halting way of his, as though he thinks such a question may be poorly received. smart man. it might be, but he says it only loud enough for the two of them to hear. fjord as well, who stands solidly next to her so she can lean against his shoulder, but he is pretending hard enough that he doesn’t hear it that maybe he really doesn’t.

‘i’m good, man.’

‘you went down—‘

‘ha. went down.’

caleb’s expression goes carefully blank. then, ‘hollah,’

‘no.’

he shrugs and, apparently satisfied that she is alright, if not perfectly hale, he turns and begins to make his way to the room the monks have given them, stripping off the grime-and-blood soaked coat as he goes. shards of glass shake loose from the folds of that coat and rather than try to clean it up now he just drops the coat entirely and collapses into his bedroll.

the others follow slowly, yasha not meeting her eyes, jester yawning as she and cad check over all of them to make sure they’re not going to die in their sleep. fjord too, actually, moves to nott and speaks to her for a minute before his hands glow with a verdant light and he touches her on the shoulder, draining a modicum of pain and a tightness from her face.

he wanders beau’s way first. ‘poison duty, any poison to spare?’ beau grins. socks him light on the shoulder. ‘hey, hey, careful! if we were putting a number system to this kind of thing, i only have like five hit points left. you could kill me with a poke.’

‘eh, you’re not my type.’

fjord groans. ‘poison?’

‘hell no. this body is a temple.’

‘what?’ he asks, and then his pain-and-exhaustion glazed eyes clear, a little. ‘oh shit, that’s right, you can’t be poisoned. great! because i only have like one of these left and i’m gonna give it to caleb—i don’t think hes poisoned but,’ he shrugs, ‘better safe than sorry.’

‘good idea. a minor inconvenience could explode him like his cat, right now.’

fjord chuckles as he walks away, leaving her there at the door still. she watches as he carefully negotiated rousing caleb, ducks the bolt of fire. she almost misses jester’s quiet steps up to her side.

‘hey.’

‘hey, you.’ beau sucks in a sharp breath when jester leans into her, tucks her head against beau’s shoulder and wraps her arms around her waist. after a fraction of a second, beau hugs her back. ‘you alright?’

‘mm.’

jester’s hair is soft as beau brushes her fingers through it. clumped in places with blood and ichor, and beau nearly cuts herself on a scrap of glass, but soft.

‘it sucked but...i honestly don’t see how it could’ve gone better,’ beau continues. ‘and you were amazing. getting yasha back—‘

‘that was cad.’

‘sure, but you scried, you knew she was...was still in there.’ beau feels jester just kind of shrug, noncommittal. she tightens her hug. ‘that thing you did to obann was fucking sick too.’

‘oh that? it was nothing,’ jester denies, all coy, but beau can hear in her voice that she is pleased.

beau swallows. ‘you also—i didn’t really thank you then, but, you got me back up as well.’ she tries not to perish when jester squeezes suddenly tight around her waist, just rubs her hand over her friends shoulders and back. ‘thank you, jes.’

jester nods.

eventually they split. everyone falls to sleep. beau slips out to make sure there are monks guarding the area they’re in, and on the way back she pauses for just a moment. the rexxentrum division of the cobalt soul stands in a half dozen towers, rather than zadash’s isolated tower, and in the central portion where the great reading room sits in a domed chamber, there in the centre there is a woman in the flowing grey robes of a librarian. her hair is long and her face serene and beau would just pass without comment if not for the fact that there in the centre of her forehead is third eye.

‘did you know you’ve got a little,’ beau points to her own forehead. ‘just a little—right there,’

REALLY? the woman asks, in a voice that sounds much like beau’s own voice, that dry, barely there voice that sits forefront in her mind as she reads. YOU SPEAK LIKE THIS EVEN TO A GOD?

beau struggles to calm herself. they’d faced a real fucked up obann today, and glimpsed a fraction of an ancient godly evil, but somehow none of that shakes her as much as that simple phrase. as hearing that voice in her mind, in the room all around.

‘so you’re like...real then.’

YES.

beau nods. ‘cool. ah—sorry.’

the old, wrinkled face lights with a delighted smile. HOW LOVELY. A RARE GIFT. something about the third eye and the growing smile assures beau the woman—the goddess ioun, she figures—knows exactly how rare those apologies are, and that beau’s knee jerk reaction to that being commented on is a sour get fucked, which she thinks but doesn’t say to the god. YOU DID VERY WELL TODAY.

‘i...thanks. thank you.’ beau clears her throat. glances awkwardly around to see if anyone had noticed the way she flushes a bit with the praise. there is no one around—in fact, the soul is eerily quiet and awash in a greying shadow that makes beau wonder if they are still in the soul at all. her footsteps, when she moves, make hardly any sound but the stone feels solid underfoot. she skirts around the domed chamber, closer toward ioun and the platform in the centre where she is sitting, cross-legged. despite being an actual, full-blown god, she looks like any other ordinary human—plus an extra eye—and when beau moves closer, she gestures to a folded mat beau thinks wasn’t there a moment ago. still. gods. that’s how they work, right? mysterious and shit like that.

beau takes her place on the mat, opposite ioun, and folds herself into a matching pose. her hands settle loosely on her knees and she lets her breathing slow, settle deep in her diaphragm. it ignites her ki, deplenished almost entirely by the fight, lets her feel it as it rushes through her body, carried along on the beat of her pulse, to the points of pain—bruises and cuts, the great, barely healed gash in her chest. and as she rests her body, beau feels her tired mind drain of the slogging exhaustion and grow clear and focused. she opens her eyes—wonders when, exactly, they had closed—and looks across to the woman.

her skin is a warm brown, thoroughly wrinkled like ancient paper, spotted with age spots like spilled ink. the irises of her three eyes are a vivid, attentive violet and when she catches beau’s attention, she leans in.

YOU MUST HAVE QUESTIONS.

‘just a few,’ beau lies. her goddess laughs, a dry sound like rustling pages.

GOOD. ASK THEM.

//

morning arises in the scattered prism of light from stained glass windows, and panic.

‘where is she?’ fjord demands of their guard, a monk freshly shorn. he shakes them by the collar hard. ‘where is she?’

‘i can locate her,’ cad offers, his eyes fluttering closed and one hand reaching toward the light. the flash of green from the stained glass seems to glow brighter, diffusing through the room, and he nods to the open door. ‘she’s close. come on.’

cad leads the way, but only barely, jester close at his side. eventually, they come to a cluster of monks waiting—eyes wide, murmuring with more excitement and surprise than any of the nein’s number has seen from these monks before—and the nein dash forward, push through the crowd.

it’s immediately obvious what they are interested in: there, in the centre of the reading room, on a low round platform is beau. she sits on a mat of lush heath-grey and surprising her friends appears to be meditating, her chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. what causes jester to lash out and grab at cad, at another monk on her other side, is the mark that glows upon beau’s forehead and the back of her neck—the light is thin, like watered paint, but glowing with undeniable power, purple and shimmering in the morning light.

there, set carefully upon beau’s forehead, is a crooked mark, lines turning in and in upon themselves at sharp angles. the eye of ioun.

[whumpishstuff]

*Alaric and Beau part 4*

*part 3*

  “Good morning, darling.” Alaric stands over Beau and runs his fingers through his hair. Beau flinches, remembering the day before. Being suffocated, almost to the point of unconsciousness, again, and again, and again.

  Alaric seems pleased by his fear. He leers down at him, a small smirk on his face. “It’s time to try your routine again, and hopefully make it all the way through this time.”

  Beau swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing slowly. His lungs still burn from the previous day’s torture. He’s already decided to go along with Alaric’s plans, not wanting to invoke his wrath again.

  “Yes, sir.” He tries to keep his face neutral, and almost succeeds. There’s still a spark of anger in his eyes that he can’t hide.

  “Good boy.” Alaric nearly purrs the words, pleased by his compliance despite his thinly-veiled fury. “Now let’s try this again. Breakfast is on the table. I have something I need to check on, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

  He turns on his heel and leaves the room. Beau sits at the table and eats with vigor. He was starving, having refused to eat for the entire time he’d been there. He knows he has plenty more time, so he sips the tea, green, which is admittedly his favorite.

  By the time he’s finished, Alaric re-enters the room, with a pleased expression. “Very good job, darling. You actually did what was asked of you. But this is just the first step of the day, let’s see how you fair with everything else.”

  “Next is exercise.” Alaric suddenly yanks Beau out of the chair and pins him to the table.

  “Wha-?!’ Beau’s head hits the table and he hisses in pain. Alaric pins his wrists behind his back and tightens a zip-tie around them. 

  “Why?!” Beau shouts. “I didn’t do anything!”

  Alaric chuckles deeply, “This is just a precaution, darling.” He slips a blindfold over his eyes and pulls him upright. He takes him by the shoulders and leads him out of the room. It’s only moments before he removes the blindfold, and cuts the zip-tie. Beau opens his eyes to find himself in a very well stocked home gym.

  “Oh...” Beau is unnerved by the large room. “So I’ll be ‘training’ or whatever here?” 

  Alaric, still standing behind him, grabs his chin firmly enough to hurt. “Are you forgetting something?”

  “Ah, Sir.”

  “Good boy. And yes, you’ll be doing your physical training here.” Alaric walks around him and gestures to the multitude of equipment in the room. “I’ve had a friend of mine formulate a series of workouts for your specific body type.”

  Beau has to stifle a laugh at the thought of Alaric having friends. He manages to keep a straight face and asks, “So what should I start with, uh, Sir?”

  Alaric smirks at him and points to a list that’s pinned to the door. Beau leans forward to read the list and almost immediately jerks back. 

  “This is crazy! I can’t do all this!” He gapes at the list, it probably contains more exercise than he’s done in his entire life.

  Alaric spins him by the shoulder, and backhands him so hard he’s knocked to the ground. Beau vision blurs from the force of the blow. Alaric crouches down next to him and growls out, “Did. You. Forget. Something?”

  Beau nods, not trusting himself to speak with how disorientated he is.

  “And what did you forget?”

  “I-I didn’t say ‘Sir’. I’m sorry, Sir.”

  Alaric’s smile returns, and he helps Beau off the floor. His smile widens when Beau has to cling to him to stay upright. He gently strokes Beau’s back until the dizziness recedes.

  “Now, let’s get started. I’ll be sitting over there, and if your form needs correcting, or you start to faint,” He murmurs, on the edge of mocking. “I’ll help you.”

  Beau nods, demure for the moment, and reads the exercise routine again. First on the list is warming up on the treadmill so he steps on, but doesn’t know how to work the surprisingly complicated machine. He glances over at Alaric, and sees him smirking, unmistakably amused by his struggle.

  “Do you need help, darling?”  

  “Yes, Sir.” Beau flushes, humiliated by having to ask for his help.

  “Yes, what, Sir?” Alaric looks incredibly smug and it grates at Beau terribly, but he can’t risk punishment again so he gives in.

  “Yes, please, Sir.”

  Alaric smile warmly and he saunters over to the treadmill. He turns it on and explains, “It’s set to increase in intervals. Try to keep up.” 

  Beau just steps on, not wanting to talk anymore. It’s slow at first, it’s pace set to walking. Beau know that this can’t be all.  Soon enough, he’s jogging. He starts to sweat, leg’s burning slightly.

  Then he’s running at a decent pace. The muscles in his legs sting and sweat is dripping down his back.

  “Is- is this really a warm up,” He gasps out, “Sir?”

  “You know, you really shouldn’t speak unless spoken to.” Alaric’s eyes are glued to Beau’s body, he doesn’t even glance at his face as he speaks to him.

  Beau grits his teeth and stays quiet. He has other things to focus on anyway, like the fact that his sweat is dripping into his eyes and blinding him. Or how his legs feel like they’re on fire and might collapse under him.

  Suddenly, the machine stops. Beau’s legs give out. Alaric approaches him, and shoves a bottle of water into his hand. “Drink.” 

  Beau doesn’t argue.

  As soon as he’s gulped down what in the bottle Alaric pulls him upright and leads him to another machine. He sits him down and guides his hands to the handles. “This one targets your chest, the next two are for your arms, and then one for your legs. After all that, I’ll explain your ab exercises and you’ll complete them on that mat over there. Finally, stretches. I have a video that will guide you through those.”

  Beau can still hardly believe how much he’s expected to do. But he doesn’t have a choice, he has to at least try. He completes the reps, chest burning from the strain. He starts to get off the machine, but Alaric snickers and shakes his head from his chair.

  “That was just one set, darling. You still have four more sets to do.”

  Beau is suddenly sure that Alaric is trying to kill him.

  By the time Beau finishes with the machines, he’s panting so hard he’s ready to faint, and it feels like his muscles are about to fall off of his bones.

  He flops down on the mat and Alaric lists off the ab exercises. Beau audibly groans and Alaric shoots him a stern look, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “You had better get going, darling.”

  Various crunches, planks, and leg raises, over and over again. Beau is certain he can’t continue, but the glare Alaric sends his way terrifies him. He pushes through, although Alaric has to physically fix his form several times.

  When he finishes his sets, Alaric manhandles him into a standing position. Beau’s head swims so strongly that he starts to fall and Alaric has to hold him by the shoulders until he can hold himself up.

  As soon as he’s sure Beau won’t faint and give himself a concussion, he turns on the large screen on the wall. “This is a video of fifteen minutes of stretches, you’ll be doing more in the future, but I doubt you can handle that today.” 

  Beau swoons at the thought of doing one minute of anything with how exhausted and weak his body feels. But the video starts regardless. 

  Thankfully the first stretch is done sitting down, so he flops gratefully to the ground. He follows the instructions, stretching his legs straight in front of him and reaching for his toes. He can’t even get close. Alaric tsks from above him and shoves down on his back without warning.

  “Ow! Ah, Sir!” Beau’s eyes fill with tears. He didn’t think the pain in his muscles could get worse, until he was roughly shoved down again. Alaric wordlessly holds him down.

  “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “N-no Sir.” Beau is too exhausted to do anything other than agree.

  “Now on to the next one.” Beau can’t see it, but Alaric has a look of complete gratification spread across his face.

-

  He didn’t die. He was seriously starting to think that he would just keel over and die, but here he is. Every inch of his body aches like someone took a hammer to it. He’s jolted out of his stupor by Alaric’s deep voice.

  “My, my. You are absolutely filthy.” Alaric reaches down to where he’s spread out on the floor and pinches his sweat soaked shirt. He then grins and pinches his tear soaked cheek. “Next up is your shower. Let’s get going.”

[badstoriesaboutgoodpeople]

Finally Mine Part 2

AN: So before you guys read this I want to apologize for how long it took me to write this. I lost motivation for a while (nothing new there lol) but today was a really productive day for me so I decided to just finish it. A few notes about this story: One, the timing of this whole series is a lil awkward because these are based off real games that happened this season, and while it technically could have happened with how the schedule worked this season we’re just going to pretend there was a few weeks between the Vancouver game and the home game. Two, this is kind of a really shitty thing to do to somebody’s ex and while it’s fun to write about I would never imagine doing this in real life. I really hope you guys enjoy this!!

Based off of this series of gifs, and a series of asks a lovely anonymous user sent me that I’ll make sure are tagged under finally mine so you can find them https://pyatts.tumblr.com/post/183739792171/mzibanejad-26319-nyicbj

Word Count: 2,182

Warnings: smut, filming sex (not full out, just short clips), threesome

Translations for the French: “Merde, tu es si belle come ça, mendiant pour moi,”= Shit, you look so good like that, begging for me

“Oh mon dieu, tu es si belle, j'ai regardé les vidéos encore.....”= Oh my god, you’re so hot, I watched the videos again...

Pierre had practically begged you to fly to Columbus to watch him play the Islanders, and after the night you spent together in Vancouver you couldn’t pass up the offer. PL once again insisted on paying for the flight and hotel. You made it into town the day before the game, the same day the Islanders arrived. Pierre had told you he was meeting up with Mat and Beau for dinner, they hadn’t properly hung out since they played together in 2015. You cringed at the thought of your ex eating with, well, whatever PL was to you, especially since PL knew how things ended between you. You made him promise not to bring it up, and keep his responses brief if Mat said anything. He promised, but he also promised to bring Beau home with him for dessert. You’d seen the video, PL sent it to you one night after you asked what the wildest thing he’d ever done was. You knew Beau had wanted something to happen between you, him, and Mat, especially after the incident in his back seat. However, Mat was never willing, claiming he was too possessive over you and couldn’t watch one of his teammates do that to you. Now that he was out of the picture, well, nothing was stopping you. PL had done it before and was willing to do it again. So, it was decided that you’d meet them at the hotel where the Islanders were staying after they got back from dinner, and PL would be in Beau’s room. You went to your own hotel, and ordered room service for dinner. Soon you received a text from PL, much earlier than you’d expected. 

“Hey, Mat really wants you back. Beau and I are trying to convince him not to but I think he’s going to text you and try to get you back. Please don’t respond to him, let me handle it when you get to the hotel.”

You typed out a hasty reply promising you’d ignore it. Soon enough, you heard the text tone you’d set for Mat go off. You didn’t even open the message, knowing it would make you angry, sad, or all of the above. You just patiently waited, eating the food you ordered, until Luc texted you again.

 “Hey baby, just ordered you an Uber to Beau’s hotel. Should be there in about five minutes. His room # is 214.”

You texted back a thumbs up, and went downstairs. Once you were in the Uber it was a short ride to the other hotel, and it wasn’t until you were in the elevator that you felt yourself growing nervous. You weren’t quite sure what to expect tonight, but the nervousness was quickly overshadowed by excitement. You walked down the hallway and quietly knocked on the door. Beau answered, and quickly wrapped you up in a big hug. You hadn’t seen him since you broke up with Mat, and you hadn’t realized how much you missed him until now. He ushered you in and said something to Luc in French, before having you sit down on the edge of the bed. PL walked over and placed a kiss on your forehead before sitting next to you. Beau did the same, and moved to whisper in your ear.

 “Dinner was good, but boy am I excited for dessert.”

 “I’ve wanted this for so long Anthony, ever since I saw that video.” You couldn’t help yourself, you wanted him to know that you were equally excited.

 “Seems like everyone’s eager, what are we waiting for?” asked PL and his hands moved to the hem of your t shirt before pulling it off your body. He slipped his hand into your back pocket and grabbed your phone. He handed it to you to unlock, and once you did he opened the message from Mat. He rested his hand on your thigh and took a photo, and sent that to Mat in response. The three of you ignored the buzzing noises it made when he set it down on the bedside table before moving to slide your jeans down. He and Beau discarded their shirts and pants, and soon enough you were completely naked in Luc’s lap, back to his chest, with him leaning against the headboard. Beau sat at the foot of the bed, watching what was happening in front of him. PL had his two middle fingers buried inside of you, and his other hand had moved up to stroke your hair, and eventually muffle your moans when you began to grow louder. 

“Shhhhh, Mat’s in the room next to us. Don’t want to make him angry do we?” You shook your head as much as you could with Luc’s hand pressed over your mouth. You tried to be quiet but you couldn’t hold back a loud groan as he made you come. He ordered you to turn around and face him. He grabbed his phone from where he’d put it, gave you a look as if to ask permission, and once you nodded your head he hit record. He kept your face out of frame, showing you from the shoulders down. He brought his free hand down to rub your clit gently, and you quietly moaned his name. It was partly for show, knowing he loved when you called him Luc. 

“Please daddy,” you whimpered, and you watched his cock twitch in response. He sent the video, captioning it “guess who?” and you saw Mat’s name show up on his phone screen soon after, you could only assume that’s who he sent it to. You didn’t want to think about him right now, so you stroked Luc a few times before lining your hips up and sinking down slowly. You both let out out breathy little noises, trying to stay quiet. You moved slowly at first, rocking your hips back and forth rather than moving up and down. Beau came to kneel beside PL’s legs, leaning over to place kisses on your neck and collar bone. He left small marks that would be covered by your jersey tomorrow night, sucking an especially dark bruise into the skin between your breasts. He kissed the tattoo on your shoulder, before turning your head to kiss your lips. He bit your bottom lip gently, but didn’t move to deepen the kiss when you let out a small gasp. He pulled away slowly and moved back to the foot of the bed, explaining he was content to wait his turn. Luc began to thrust upwards to meet your hips as they moved up and down, dragging you closer to the edge each time.

 “Fuck, I’m close, please Luc please,” you begged. 

“What did you call me?” PL whispered in your ear, accent bleeding into his words.

 “Please daddy,” you said, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“Merde, tu es si belle come ça, mendiant pour moi,” said Pierre under his breath, the French meaning nothing to you but sounding nice nonetheless. You draped yourself across Luc’s chest, not trusting yourself to stay upright otherwise. This gave him the perfect opportunity to lift your chin and force to look into his eyes. 

“Come on, Y/N, come for me.” You weren’t sure if it was the look in his eyes, his husky voice, or the way he moved his hips, but he made you come so hard your mind went blank. You couldn’t think about anything except the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Pierre brought his lips to yours to muffle the noise you made, and rocked his hips slowly as you came down. Your body felt like jello, and his voice sounded far away when he spoke up. 

“Let’s let Tito have a turn, eh?” You simply nodded your head, and PL lifted you out of his lap. You eventually ended up on all fours with Anthony behind you and Pierre still sitting against the head board. You leaned down to take Pierre’s dick into your mouth, focusing on the head before starting to bob your head slowly. You moaned around him when Anthony slowly slid into you, causing his hips to buck slightly. Anthony’s phone buzzed and he merely picked it up, and chuckled once he read the notification. 

“It’s a text from Mat. He said ‘can you keep it down over there? Some of us are trying to sleep.’” Pierre’s quiet laugh turned into a moan when you took him particularly deep. 

“What do you say we show Mat what he’s missing, hm sweetheart?” asked Anthony, and you pulled off Luc to nod. He took a video of himself slowly fucking into you, his other hand grabbing your ass and smacking it lightly. Another video showed Luc’s fingers threaded through your hair. You knew Mat would be able to see the tattoo on your shoulder, and you knew if he put two and two together he’d realize it was you. However, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be too upset about that. Soon enough Pierre choked out that he was close, and you swallowed him down as far as you could. He came down your throat with a groan, trying and failing to muffle it by biting down on his lower lip. Anthony wasn’t far behind him, and you felt him spill inside of you, filling you with his cum. He pulled out slowly, taking another video when his cum started to slowly drip down your inner thigh. You all stayed there for a minute before deciding to get up to shower. What began as cleaning you up turned into making out with Anthony while Pierre fingered you until you came again, moaning against Tito’s mouth. You slowly got dressed and made your way into the elevator and eventually into the Uber one of the boys had called for you. You eventually collapsed into the bed in your hotel room, quite frankly exhausted. You dawn you had notifications from Pierre, Tito, and Mat. You opened the one from Anthony first, a simple thank you and the offer to hang out once you were both back in New York. Then you skimmed through what Mat had sent you, not really bothering to read it properly. Finally you opened the videos Luc had sent you. You were greeted with the sight of him palming himself through his grey sweatpants. He said something in French that you couldn’t quite understand, but he sounded turned on to say the least. 

“Oh mon dieu, tu es si belle, j'ai regardé les vidéos encore.....” he hadn't sent anything else, except a black screen with the caption "you're going to be the death of me baby girl". You sent back a selfie, caption telling him you couldn't wait for the game tomorrow. You found yourself drifting off, scenes from earlier that night on repeat in your mind. The next day you didn't do anything interesting until heading to Nationwide for the game. You had your Dubois jersey on, and went down to the ice for warm ups. You thought nothing of it until the Islanders skated out and you locked eyes with Mat. If looks could kill, you'd be dead in a second. You could tell there was something he wanted to say to you but he couldn't exactly skate over to where you were standing and talk to you, so he had to settle for shooting you dirty looks. You were startled out of your thoughts when Pierre tapped his stick on the plexiglass next to you. Once he had your attention, he mouthed the words "You okay?" to you, a look of concern dancing across his face. You nodded, not wanting to let Mat spoil your evening. Your focus turned to the Blue Jackets for the rest of warmups. Once the game started you could tell Mat was angry, and Pierre was having none of it. Mat must have been mouthing off on his way to the bench, because seemingly out of nowhere Pierre took it upon himself to shove him, hard. This of course only served to annoy Mat further, and soon the two of them were tangled up, inches away from fighting. They were separated before punches could be thrown and sent to the box for roughing, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't turned on by the whole ordeal, and you didn't find the smug look on Luc's face on his way to the box oddly endearing. Columbus ended up shutting out the Islanders 4-0, and it felt like some small form of revenge watching Mat skate off the ice with a scowl on his face. You found yourself thinking bout the next time you'd be able to see Pierre on the Uber ride back to your hotel, already looking for the opportunity to spend time with him again. You could figure out the details later, talk like adults and define your relationship. For now, all that you wanted to do was stay up way too late talking to a boy you liked a little too much.

[rose-lattess]

Widojest Week

Day one: Dance ~ 1.6k

“I could be worried about nothing, but if your mother has been compromised in some way, it is too late. But, it is not too late for your child, Nott.”

Takes place after episode 64. Inspired by Laura’s, “I have trouble sleeping that night.” This is disregarding the order of watch displayed in episode 65.

“I could be worried about nothing, but if your mother has been compromised in some way, it is too late. But, it is not too late for your child, Nott.”

As much as Jester Lavorre wished to cry, the tears would not come. Fear, a big black wall built by Caleb’s dismissive tone and heart-wrenching reality, stood like a dam between her heart and her eyes. Her mother would be fine. She had to be. Jester could not fathom a future without Marion in it, and she never truly thought of losing her until Caleb had told her that if Marion faced trouble, they wouldn’t be able to save her. Caleb had spoken as if it were a prophecy as if he did not believe Jester could save her own kin.

Perhaps, that is what stung the most, what locked Jester’s tears away. Her own companion, her friend, had spoken to her with such apathy. He had used Marion’s safety as an example to convince Nott to agree with him. He disregarded the weight of his words, and that had made it all the worse.

Jester never thought she would be disregarded by Caleb. Fjord, yes. Beau, sometimes. Never Caleb. Time after time, he had shown her that he saw her. Truly saw her. They confided in one another. She trusted him, and she would continue to trust him. But he had hurt her tonight, and he was the reason that she could not cry.

She spent the first three hours of the night fidgeting with the edge of her bedroll and the buckle of her belt, mulling over the possibility of her mother’s demise. She glanced across the fire. Nott rested with her head against Caleb’s legs. Beneath the crackle of the fire, Caduceus’ snores decorated the hut in a gentle cadence. Everyone slumbered, besides Fjord. Sitting cross-legged, Fjord kept watch with half-lidded eyes.

Jester quietly stood. She gently tapped Fjord on the shoulder and told him to get some rest; she would take the rest of his watch. He gladly accepted, and Jester swore he had fallen asleep before he hit his mat.

Standing near the exit of the hut, Jester crossed her arms and held herself. While it was too dark to see, she could imagine the Barbed Fields staring back at her with its desolated land and flat horizon. She was glad it was dark. Cradling her arms with tender hands, Jester allowed herself a glance to the stars.

As a child, she often took pleasure in the twinkling lights of the sky. It was her reminder of the great unknown. A reminder that there was more than just the halls of the Lavish Chateau. Her mother often accompanied her out onto the balcony, and the two would connect the brightest stars to form constellations.

Without intending to, Jester started to hum. It was a soft song that did not carry far. A personal melody, one which her mother would sing to her when she was feeling down. Lost to the memories and the brilliant stars, Jester did not hear the footsteps behind her.

Caleb was at her shoulder, hands stuffed within his pockets and brown hair wild from stressful sleep. Jester stopped humming. “You don’t take watch until dawn,” she said softly, keeping her eyes focused on the dark night.

“I am not here for watch,” Caleb said, not only matching Jester’s volume but tenderness, as well.

Jester’s brows dipped as she struggled with his meaning. Still holding herself, she dug her toe into the dry dirt and turned to look at him. She kept her lips parted, unsure if she wanted to speak or not.

Blue eyes, navy under the touch of night, flickered between the Barbed Fields and Jester. Caleb swallowed his compunction. “That song,” he started.

Jester shook her head and frowned. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized, upset by his tone. Unlike earlier in the evening, he was gentle. She wondered if he was trying to brush his behavior off by speaking as he normally did. She did not like it.

“You didn’t.”

Afraid of showing him the pain in her expression, Jester turned back to the Barbed Fields. Silence hung between them. Jester hated silence. Silence surrounded her childhood like a thick blanket, and she would often ramble to combat its grasp. Tonight it was a struggle, for she really did not wish to speak, but Caleb was standing there, waiting for her to say something, to pretend to be usual self, to pretend that nothing was wrong.

“It was my mama’s song,” she supplied.

Caleb looked at her. She could feel his frown. He frowned with his entire face. She would consider it one of his many talents. “Do not speak with past tense,” he lectured.

Unable to hide the twitch of her lips, Jester turned to him. Her arms fell to her side, and she crumbled before him. “But, you said—”

“I know what I said,” he interjected. His brow was low, and his tone had shifted down, reminiscent of earlier that night. His façade had not lasted long. “I remember every word, every volatile syllable that left my mouth.” His lips stretched as grief took hold of his features. “But that was me, not you. Do not speak like that.”

“I don’t understand, Caleb.”

“It was wrong of me to speak to you the way I did. I am full of this, this pessimism.” His voice was shaking, and he raised his hand to gesture to her. “And you are not.” He sounded so lost, and Jester wanted to reach out to him, tether his body to hers, so he could not drift off too far. But, she stayed still and let him unravel. “When I first met you, I promised myself that I would not tarnish your innocence. Your hope. But tonight, I broke that promise, and I’ve- I’ve tainted you with the toxic doubt that fills my mind.” He held his hands together and slowly shook his head, his brown hair, red when the firelight hit it just right, scattered across his face. He made no move to fix it. “I—you are bright. Do not let my presence in your life dim you.” He met her eyes in a heart-bearing plea.

Jester took an unsteady breath, ripples of emotions caused her chest to heave. “Caleb, it’s okay.”

“It is not. It is okay not to be ‘okay,’ Jester. You have the right to be mad.”

“I’m not,” she confessed, lowering her voice to try to convince him it was the truth. It was the truth. She forgave him. It was an easy thing to do, despite how gravely he had hurt her. He stared at her in disbelief, waiting for her to take her words back, to yell, to scream at him for threatening her perception. She would do no such thing; she would never do that, not to him. Because, while Jester was not broken, not yet, she could tell he was, and as an unbroken, she felt it was her duty to help him. And, if helping him meant forgiving him when he hurt her, she would do just that, even if he had left a scar.

Slowly, she raised her hand toward him, offering him her palm and slightly curved fingers. It was her turn to plea. Caleb glanced to her hand, brows low and lips quivering. “Will you dance with me?” she asked softly.

She watched as he battled with his answer before he raised his own hand and set it in hers. His gloved palm covered hers in a tender grasp, and his fingers curled around her blue skin. She stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You talked to her tonight,” Caleb muttered as Jester began to rock back and forth.

“Yes,” she answered.

“You will talk to her tomorrow night as well?

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They did not waltz. Instead, Jester simply rocked them from left to right to left again. It was a gentle rock that neither of them rushed. Caleb removed his hand from hers, and Jester was about to break away, not wishing to push the man’s comfort. But instead of halting their movement, he continued to sway. He placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her into a soft hug. He rested his chin between her horns, and she nestled her ear into his chest. She could hear his heartbeat through the cloth of his shirt, and she closed her eyes.

They continued their swaying embrace for a few moments before Caleb’s chest vibrated beneath Jester’s cheek. “That song you were humming,” he said softly. “Can you continue? I’d like to hear how it goes.”

Pleased by his request, Jester began to hum the melody imprinted along her heart. Caleb held her as they rocked from side to side. He listened intently to the order of the notes, remembering them with ease and by Jester’s third repetition, he had joined her. With his low timbre, they hummed in simple harmony, never once dipping into dissonance. Beneath the constellations, embraced by someone she loved, singing the song of her childhood, Jester cried. The release of emotions she had so longed for came in languid tears that left her refreshed and undaunted. She smiled. If Caleb felt her tears staining his shirt, he made no move to address it.

[lhugbereth]

KP- thanks tumblr, always a pal >:((( the message was basically Noctis watching Ignis perform in a professional event for the first time and being absolutely floored by how graceful and strong Ignis is, making everything look completely effortless. He knows Noctis is watching and shows off just a tiny bit and earns himself almost perfect scores in all his events ;)c

Hi KP! Sorry this took longer than expected.... I didn’t intend to write so much, but then fluff happened and I couldn’t stop x3 Actually, since Ignis doesn’t compete I changed it a youth sports charity event, and instead of perfect scores, he wins a prince’s heart instead. 

Just in time for a little holiday magic in August, I present you with “Noct and Iggy are total dorks and bond over sports cars and bad puns” 

(Part 16 of “Promptio on Ice” - here’s the masterpost!) 

Dorky IgNoct under the cut! v v v 

- It starts with a text from Prompto, of all people. Noct is definitely glad they’ve started hanging out (Prom is into all the same video games and comics, is easy to talk to and a lot of fun), but he’s even worse than Gladio when it comes to teasing him about his crush on Ignis. Prompto’s known Iggy for a long time, works with him almost everyday, and recently started sending Noct stealthy photos snapped during training - Iggy stretching, Iggy standing, Iggy sitting on the bleachers. One particular pic was nothing but a close up of Iggy’s ass as he bent over the mat (followed by emojis of a peach and an eggplant which Noct isn’t sure he wants to understand). This routine seems to be Prompto’s way of helping out his new friend, and Noct both loves and hates him for it.

- But this time is different. There’s no photo attached to the message he’s sent, but it still gets Noct’s heart racing all the same. He reads it again, and again, just to be sure he isn’t dreaming.

>> Gladdy’s taking me to Lestallum for the festival this weekend!

- He’s been hearing about the event all week. It’s an local youth sports competition to raise money during the holidays, and apparently Ignis has been asked to be the opening performer. According to Prompto and Gladio, he’s been working hard to debut a new technique for the event. Now Noct is being offered a ticket up close and personal. He would have to be crazy to refuse.

- It turns out, though, that the seat is more ‘up close and personal’ than he expected. When he arrives at the arena on the day of the event, Ignis is already there and occupying the chair next to where Noctis is supposed to be sitting. Upon seeing him, Noct nearly loses his nerve completely. He looks good in a pair of long white pants over a tight-fitting blue-and-black leotard. Too good, in fact. There is no way he can do this! But before he can turn and run, Ignis spots him, smiles, and pats the open chair. He’s pretty much doomed.

- “Ah, Noct. I was wondering who Prompto would send in his place. Thank you for coming.”

- “Uh, yeah. N-no problem.” Noct swallows as he takes the seat, meets Iggy’s gaze fleetingly before staring down at his boots. “I heard you’re, like, a guest of honor or something?” He tries to smile, but his nerves get the better of it and it probably ends up as more of a cringe.

- Luckily, Ignis doesn’t seem bothered by it. “Well, something like that. I’m a bit out of practice, though, so don’t get your hopes up.” He follows this with a wink that makes Noctis very glad he’s already sitting down. Fortunately, he doesn’t get a chance to respond (he would have just said something totally lame, anyway, like I’m sure you’ll find a way to impress me) because suddenly they’re being approached by an energetic young woman with curly blond hair and a headset.

- "Sorry t’innerupt, fellas. Mr. Scientia, we're ready for ya to get set up now."

- "Thank you, Cindy. Noct," he smiles as he gets to his feet. "I trust you'll be watching?"

- Of course, I can't take my eyes off you. Noctis clears his throat, forces a polite nod. "You bet, Specs."

- When Ignis turns to follow Cindy back to the locker rooms, he has a certain lightness in his step that wasn't there before. Without even realizing it, he's smiling. Cindy, who is in charge of the local youth sports center and therefore that day’s events, has known Iggy long enough to notice both. "So who’s yer new beau?" she asks with a sly wink. Ignis refuses to meet her gaze.

- “A friend of Prompto, or rather, of Prompto’s boyfriend. I’ll admit I don’t know him very well yet.”

- “Well, maybe after t’day that’ll change.” They enter the locker room, and the din of the arena fades behind them. “Are ya still planning to show us somethin’ we ain’t never seen before?”

- Ignis doesn’t answer right away. He’s been working on his new move for a couple of weeks - an acrobatic-style twist off the bars at the end of his routine - but he isn’t sure he’s quite ready for it. With all the extra time he’s spent at the ice rink with Prompto, there hasn’t been much chance for him to practice alone. If he attempts it now, there’s a chance he might mess up - or worse, injure himself. But next to him Cindy is waiting for an answer, so he smiles, pats her hand, and offers a noncommittal We’ll see.

- Out in the arena, the music starts. Cindy rushes off to MC the event, and after a brief (but far-too flattering) introduction, Ignis steps out to a roar of applause. He wonders fleetingly if Noct is clapping, too, and the thought puts a rare, genuine smile on his face. Perhaps Cindy is right - this may be his chance to impress him, to get closer to him and finally unravel his mysteries.

- Perhaps over coffee. Or wine. Yes, definitely wine. And a nice dinner. Would Noct appreciate a good Tenebraen roast?

- Ignis nearly laughs aloud when he catches himself. Of all the things tobe thinking about at a time like this.... Shaking his head, he turns to the mat - there are three bars set up, each at different heights and spaced far enough apart for him to easily maneuver between them. At Cindy’s cue, he clears his mind, powders his gloves, and takes a deep breath at the edge of the mat. Then, to the sound of the audience’s cheers, he starts forward. A brisk run, keeping his knees bent and his back straight, pivots into his jump and grabs onto the first bar with both hands. It’s smooth, appears effortless and that, Ignis knows, is the most important illusion. More cheers fill the air as he begins to swing himself, using his long legs to build momentum until he’s able to jump to the next bar.

- Somewhere in the crowd, he hopes Noct’s heart is racing.

- Iggy continues his performance, flipping and spinning in the air as he jumps from one bar to the next and back again, so many times that the audience falls silent in awe. Everything is perfect, every twist of his lithe body, every precise move that has him latching onto his next target without fail. And then, just as he he’s feeling his limbs begin to tire, he nears the end of the routine. One last jump has him landing with both hands on the tallest of the three bars. His movements slow, then he gradually builds them up again, swinging faster and faster until he’s nearly spinning in a full arc. The next part is tricky - he needs to turn himself around at the very top, releasing the bar in mid-swing with one hand while pushing off with the other to send him twirling upwards through the air. In practice he’s only managed to succeed a handful of times, but….

- He has to try. Hundreds of eyes are watching. Noct is watching. Without much time to debate the risks, Ignis throws himself into the final move. From somewhere in the arena he can hear Cindy’s excited voice announcing the debut of a special technique, the moment they’ve all been waiting for. Ignis grits his teeth - he’s almost at the right momentum, just a few more swings - there. At the top of the bar he lets go and his arm flies out wide. At the same time, he tries to turn his other hand - but something is wrong. His fingers are slipping away until there’s nothing left to grip. The bar is gone from his reach and instead of pushing off, Ignis is suddenly falling, falling.

- He hits the mat with a thud and the crowd gasps in unison. Even Cindy’s voice trembles into the microphone, and then she’s running.

- Noct is faster. He reaches Ignis just at the gymnast is sitting up, wincing and hugging his left arm to his chest. Blue eyes go wide. “H-hey, don’t move. Just stay still.” Iggy looks at him, face red with embarrassment and pain, but he nods. Noct kneels down at his side, puts an arm around his shoulders for support as Cindy and some of the other staff finally arrive.

- “You okay, Mr. S?!”

- “Help me get him to the locker room.” Noct gestures for her to grab his other arm, and together they walk him off the mats. Someone else takes over as MC to keep the crowd from panicking at the show going, but the din of it is lost as soon as they’re out of the arena.

- “I’m fine, really. Both of you, please.” But Noct’s hold on him is firm, not letting go even after they’ve sat him down on a bench and Cindy’s rushed off to get him some water and painkillers.

- “Can I see it?” Ignis swallows. His wrist is throbbing with pain - he must have landed right on it when he fell - but he cautiously extends it out for Noct to take a look. Gentle fingers stroke over his swollen wrist, press just enough to make him wince but quickly pull back. “It doesn’t look broken. Probably sprained, but we’d better get you to a doctor. Do you mind…?” Noct pulls out his phone and, at a wary nod from Ignis, sends a quick text. Then Cindy comes back with water and aspirin, and Noct announces that he’ll be driving Iggy to a clinic.

- Driving? Clinic? There’s a half-formed protest on his lips but then Cindy is shoving a plastic cup between them and he’s powerless to argue. He waits for Noct to bring his car around back, then is carefully helped outside to it.

- If he thought Noct was an enigma before, now he’s thoroughly mired. The ‘car’ turns out to be a sleek, brand new, limited edition Audi R8 (Ignis has only ever dreamed of owning such a beautiful machine) and yet Noct somehow still manages to drive it like it doesn’t cost half a million dollars. He’s glad they’re going to a hospital because he’s convinced they’re going to need one with the way Noct takes each turn - but somehow (mostly due to quick thinking by other drivers) they manage to arrive in one piece. The pills Cindy gave him have kicked in by now, and Ignis is able to walk up to reception with only a little assistance.

- The young clerk automatically gives him a large stack of forms to fill out and tells him to take a number. One look around the waiting room tells him they’ll likely be there a while, but just as he turns to tell Noct that he should go, he sees the dark-haired young man already stalking up to the counter. “Dr. Yaegre is already expecting us,” he says. “Let her know we’re here.”

- Ignis looks as surprised as the clerk looks unimpressed. “Kid, we’re a hospital, not a nightclub. I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just - “

- “I’m Noctis Lucis Caelum and technically, I own this place. Call Dr. Yaegre and tell her we’re here.”

- There’s this little sound that Ignis makes in his throat. He isn’t sure what to call it - not a gasp, not a sigh, something more awed. He stares at Noct in sudden silence as the clerk hurries to get the phone. Lucis Caelum…. That makes Noct the son of Regis Caelum, the most powerful man in Insomnia and the owner of the Insomnia Kings hockey team. Which helps to explain the car and the company he keeps. It also, Iggy supposes, explains the way he’s so good at taking command, carrying himself very much indeed like the heir to a powerful family. But perhaps more than that, more than the pain his wrist and the whirlwind of the entire situation, Ignis finds himself left speechless by Noct’s sheer dominance. It is frankly the most arousing thing he’s ever seen, and it leaves him weaker at the knees than he was when they first walked in.

- The doctor is a lovely woman. Tells Ignis to call her Sania, hugs Noct as if he were her own son, and gestures them both to follow her down the hall. Several x-rays and tests later, she’s confirmed that Ignis’ wrist isn’t broken, but it is sprained, and quite badly. She’s going to have to splint it, and he’ll have to take a break from sports for at least a month, maybe more. The news isn’t as devastating to Ignis as he might have expected, perhaps because through it all he’s got Noct’s hand in his, giving him little reassuring squeezes as the doctor speaks. Although he knows this isn’t what Cindy intended, it seems she was right about this being his big chance after all.

- Sania leaves them to call a nurse for his splint. In her wake, Noct lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Ignis. What are you going to do for a whole month?”

- “I’ll manage. It will give me more time to focus on Prompto’s competition, at least.”

- They both smile. “Anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?”

- “I’ve been accused once or twice in my life, Mr. Caelum.” The use of his name has Noct wincing, which is...unexpected. Ignis frowns and reaches once more for his hand out of reflex. “...Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you feel you needed to hide who you really are?”

- “It’s just…. I don’t know.” With Iggy’s hand covering his on the arm of the chair, it’s a lot harder to think clearly. He keeps his eyes fixed on their fingers, not trusting himself to meet that beautiful emerald gaze. “Usually when people hear my dad’s name, they think they’re supposed to treat me like some kind of prince. It’s so frustrating sometimes.”

- “But you are a prince, Noct.”

- He suddenly looks up at him, blue eyes going wide, and Ignis can almost hear his heart breaking. He quickly shakes his head. “It’s not because of who your father is. It’s because of you. You’re brave. Caring. Commanding. Quite handsome.” Iggy adds a smile along with the last one, enjoying the flush of red spreading across soft cheeks. “I’m in your debt today. Perhaps you’d allow me to repay your kindness with dinner one evening?”

- “D-dinner? You mean…? Like, just the two of us?”

- “If you’d like, yes.”

- “Um. S-sure. Sounds nice.” Oh Six, am I dreaming? Is this real??

- “Lovely.”

- Noct can do little else but smile in return. Eventually the nurse enters their room and carefully splints Ignis’ wrist, finally running through a list of dos and don’ts before releasing him for the evening. Noct offers to give him a ride home - which he almost feels bad declining (his apartment is actually only a few blocks away) but he also values his life and so ultimately turns him down. They walk out together anyway. Dusk has fallen, and the air is thick with the threat of snow.

- “You sure you don’t need a ride? It’s getting cold.”

- “Thank you, but it would be far too much trouble. I...wouldn’t mind a bit of company on the way, though.”

- “You got it.” Noct shoves his hands into his coat pockets. Ignis walks a little closer to him as they head across the street. “Um. By the way. I’m really glad I got to watch you perform today.”

- A dry chuckle. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t exactly my greatest hour.” He holds up his wrist, the dark splint covering his palm and half of his forearm like a glove. “Still, it was heartening to know you were there.”

- “R-really?”

- “Of course. Especially since I was Noct expecting to see you.”

- “...Did you just…?”

- “Hm?”

- “Nothing.” Noct clears his throat, thankful that the approaching darkness hides his reddening cheeks. It doesn’t, however, hide the obnoxious grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Iggy?”

- “Yes, Noctis?”

- “I think...you were really Spec-tacular today.”

- “...Stop.”

Bonus:

- The moment Noct gets home, he flops onto his bed and quite literally squeals into his pillow. If Gladio or Prompto could see him now they would never let him live it down, but they can’t and so he doesn’t bother hiding his excitement. A date! A real date! With Ignis “Oozes-sex” Scientia himself! He’s got to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t somehow dreaming this all up. And then he texts Gladio to gloat.

>> Heh, ‘bout damn time. When’s your big night?

>> Um, we actually didn’t get that far….

>> You at least got his number, right?

>> …..SHIT

>> Smooth.

>>  Prom’s with you right?? Can’t he give it to me?

>> No can do, Witless Wonder

>> You gotta help a bro out!

>>  Prom says he can bring him along to your dad’s party this week ;) The rest is up to you

- Noct groans, letting his phone fall onto the mattress and then onto the floor. Some friends they are. How is he supposed to wait five whole days before he can talk to Iggy again? And then what is he loses his nerve? He can’t just whisk Ignis off to the hospital every time he wants to flirt with him….

- Five days. That’s how long he’s got to come up with a plan. And find something to wear that will catch the gymnast’s eye. If he’s going to do this, he’s gotta do it right.