#we won a few games but we were on a BAD losing streak before

[pizzaheadtv]

Every day I wish I could draw because I have so many funny Pizza Tower comic ideas based on me and my friends splatoon games. Like. This:

[bagopucks]

Q. Hughes - Wildest Storms

✄————————————

Quinn Hughes x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): anxiety/panic attack, mentioned kidnapping, Mentioned therapy? Is that considered a trigger? I’m still learning.

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“I love you! We’ll be back around twelve, I promise!”

Quinn promised…

I never told Quinn no to anything when his team won a game. The Canucks always seemed to be struggling, and Quinn was always tense. So on the occasions when he did win, and when he felt on top of the world, I never held him back.

Some nights after a big win, Quinn would spend copious amounts of time with me. He’d come straight home and we’d sit and talk for hours, splurge in bed on snacks we shouldn’t before sleeping, or hop in a bath together to relax. My sleep schedule was never the greatest, so it was natural for me to be up past one am. Especially when Quinn was playing hockey, or out of town for a road trip.

Other nights however, Quinn would come home, change, kiss me and ask if he could go out, and then off he went.

Usually I was good with Quinn leaving and being out past midnight. He was responsible, and loyal. If he was having fun, I saw no reason to stop him. But this night in particular just seemed to be going wrong.

I’d had a therapy appointment earlier in the day. Usually they leave me tense and sometimes emotional depending on the conversational topics that are discussed. But I went to therapy for my anxiety, so each discussion was a simple reminder of all I had to worry about in my life. After my appointments, I liked to call Quinn or I would return home to rest with him for a few hours. But he had a practice that had been pushed to the middle of the day due to a bad snowstorm. By the time I got home, I assumed he was already on the ice and prepping with his team for the game this evening.

I had no lifeline but myself.. and my mind was never as helpful as it ought to be. I spent all day ruminating in my thoughts, going through the motions in a blur. The only thing to break my anxious trance had been Quinn calling to say he wouldn’t make it home before the game. I did get a bit irritated, but I tried not to let my frustrations out on him. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

I spent my evening watching the game and eating a bowl of soup. The dark cloud of anxiety that loomed over me only thickened throughout the day, and I knew I was liable to dry heaving in the midst of anxiety or panic attacks. So I tried not to eat anything that would have been hard on my stomach.

The game was used as a distraction. And admittedly it had been a good one, until I got a text alert on my phone about a local kidnapping. They didn’t happen often, but the eerie text tone that accompanied it always made my stomach drop.

After that, I spiraled. I tried to watch the Canucks game, but my mind was hyper focused, and my senses were tuned in to every little thing in the apartment around me. The wind outside was whipping, another snowfall painting the once cleared roads with another coat of white. It was pitch black out, and pitch black in our apartment aside from the tv illuminating the living area.

A sense of dread washed over me, so heavy that I never noticed the game had been over. The Canucks had won, and it was the end of a horrible losing streak. My eyes shot toward the door when I heard the handle move, drawing in a sharp gasp as I scrambled off the couch, just in time for the door to open and a whole group of guys come barreling in. Led by my boyfriend, his hair slightly damp from a shower, dressed in the suit he’d left in around lunch.

“We won!” He sounded so happy, but my ears began ringing when everybody started shouting too, scattering about our apartment for who knows what.

“Quinn..” his name quivered off my lips, too quiet for him to hear across the room. Quinn immediately made his way over, snatching me up in a tight hug that made me feel like I was suffocating. “Quinn-“ I repeated his name in a choked out manner. As he pulled back, his smile remained. I tried to stop the shaking in my hands as I reached out to grab his arms.

“I’m gonna go out, okay?”

He promised he’d be back.

It’s past two am now, and I’m shaking in the corner of my apartment, pressed against the living room wall. I deemed it the best place to see everything in case somebody came in the door or out from behind a wall. In the bedroom I would have been cornered, same as the bathroom. The kitchen didn’t give me proper sight of the door, and the closet.. well that was just a dumb idea. My hands were resting on the floor. At first I found comfort in the chill from the wood tile, but at some point the chill was replaced by my body heat. My hands were clammy from sweat, and my heart was racing.

I felt like I was in the midst of some intense workout. My mind was racing, causing that dread to fall upon my shoulders again. The clouds of anxiety above my head had finally begun to rain. My thoughts were too heavy for them to hold any longer.

What if Quinn wasn’t okay? What if he was drunk and his friends left him alone? Oh god, what if somebody took him? What if somebody was coming to take me? I would have felt safer with Quinn around.. where was Quinn?

Heavy tears began to flow down my cheeks. I was shaking, but frozen in place. Emotional, and yet disconnected from my reality at the same time. Sounds and movements I’d once been hyper focused on, were now going unnoticed. My flight response had kicked in, but by that point, my mind had shut down too much to actually fly away. I was a mess of emotion on my living room floor. I was going to die.

The door opened for the second time that night, and I felt my heart drop. I began sobbing, shaking endlessly as that familiar turn in my stomach made me shoot off the floor. I was going to throw up. I didn’t notice Quinn sprinting across the room to grab me as I stood and collapsed directly into his arms.

“No!” I pushed against him violently, punching and flailing every limb to fight off my attacker.

Quinn held me tighter.

“Baby! Baby.. hey, everything’s okay!” Quinn could sense my distress, trying to keep my trembling body from losing its balance while he leaned his head in next to my ear.

When I heard his voice, the realization that I wasn’t being snatched up had dawned on me. I collapsed against his chest, my legs practically falling slack as I began to sob into Quinn’s body. My cries shook my own body, back rising and falling at a sporadic pace while Quinn tried to hold onto me and drag me to the couch.

“Baby..” he cooed, dropping carefully onto the couch. I fell into it with him, finding myself in his lap as he tried to situate me in a good spot. My cries never ceased, but they did quiet as Quinn stroked my back with one hand and ran the other through my hair.

“I’m right here..”

“I’m not headed anywhere.”

“This is just your anxiety,”

“You’re safe.”

“I’ll protect you.”

Quinn always knew. He never called my fears irrational or stupid, but in times when it was hard for me to differentiate normal concerns against anxious ones, he was always there to remind me. Always there to assure I wasn’t dying or having a heart attack, and that it was all my body’s response to something in my head.

“Quinn..” I whispered shakily against his chest, hearing him hum to acknowledge me.

“You’re okay, baby.” He slowly moved from beneath me, “I’ll be right back.” This caused another bit of dread to form in my gut.

“No,” I sobbed, my body leaning against the couch, helpless as I watched my boyfriend whisk away into the kitchen. He came back moments later with an ice pack and a bottle of water, which he placed on the coffee table.

“See? Im right here.” Quinn shrugged off his suit jacket, tucking a hand between my shoulder and the couch cushion to push me upright. He draped the jacket over my shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to my head as he did so.

The warmth of the jacket was the last thing I needed, but the scent shift from my perfume to his cologne helped calm me somewhat. The tears still flowed down my cheeks, but I felt I had a slightly better grip on my surroundings.

“Take a sip?” Quinn grabbed the water bottle and twisted the cap off, tossing it into the coffee table. He sat down and held the bottle out, though when I reached for it, my hand was still shaking. A quiet cry escaped my lips at the realization that I couldn’t do something as simple as holding a water bottle.

“No worries,” he spoke softly, assuring me it was fine as he set the bottle down on the table, exchanging it for the ice pack. “We’ll just try the ice pack for now.” He slowly moved in, resting his back against the couch and gesturing for me to lean into him. I did, scooting over next to Quinn and resting my back against his arm and half of his chest. One of my hands came down to grip the thigh closest to me.

“You’re my favorite girl in the whole wide world,” Quinn whispered as he wrapped an arm around me, carefully resting the ice pack on my leg. The sensation was distracting, as was the strategic statement about me being his favorite girl. I thought his mother was.

“What’s my hockey number?” I rested my head against Quinn’s shoulder as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Forty three..” my voice still quivered, but it sounded more firm than before. I had a grip on pieces of my reality now.

“That was an easy one,” he teased softly in response. “Whats my favorite pair of shoes?”

I had to roll my eyes at him. “Dumbass fuzzy slippers…” I spoke. That was our ‘matching ensemble’ one Christmas. Warm, fuzzy slippers. They didn’t count as shoes in my book, but he wore them all the time around the apartment or at the lake house.

Quinn managed a quiet chuckle, the movement of his chest and the sound of his deep laugh causing another wave of anxiety to settle.

“When did we say our first I Love You’s?” Quinn moved the ice pack to my shoulder. I let out a quiet sigh, then sniffled. I carefully reached up to rub the tears from my eyes as a sad smile formed on my lips.

“When we took Tyler’s son to the aquarium..” my grip on Quinn’s thigh eased.

“And what do you remember?”

“I remember you,” I paused for another sniffle. “You couldn’t get him to walk away from the puffer fish. You tried to pick him up, and he got a little mad.” A little was a vast understatement, and we both knew it, causing us to laugh softly together.

“You wanna know what I remember?” Quinn asked, and I nodded, slowly picking my head up and turning to look at him, draping my legs over his lap.

“I remember watching you take him down the little tunnel where you could stand in the turtle enclosure. And I remember watching you pick him up and hold him on your hip.. and thinking how much I love you. And how much you’re gonna make a great mother some day.”

My heart fluttered at Quinn’s words, but this type didn’t make me panicky or anxious. I smiled at him. Quinn carefully pulled the ice pack off my shoulder, tossing it onto the couch behind me.

“And I remember saying how much I love you when you guys got back.” Quinn reached to cup my cheek in his hand. “All of you. Every single part of you.” He smiled at the sight of my own.

I leaned in to press my forehead against his own, sighing softly.

“Thank you Quinn,” relief finally flooded my voice. He pulled back slowly, nodding.

“I’m always here for you. You’re my girl, I’ll take care of you no matter what.” Quinn rested a hand on one of my knees as he leaned forward to grab the once forgotten water bottle.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, holding the bottle out. This time I took it with a steady hand.

“I had soup.. but if you pop something in the oven I might snack on it.” I could tell by the smile forming on his lips, that he knew what I wanted. A warm pizza.

“We’ll sleep in tomorrow.” Usually Quinn would suggest a nap after a panic attack, but if I didn’t eat before sleeping, I’d wake up with a headache. Another reason to be miserable.

“Put a pepperoni one in,” I spoke before taking a sip of water. Quinn rolled his eyes at me and laughed.

“Adventurous,” he teased, making me giggle softly. “Do you want to rest here, or come with me?” He slowly moved my legs from his lap.

“I’ll come with.” I sniffed again, slowly standing up with Quinn. He reached for my free hand, intertwining our fingers as we ventured into the kitchen. We spent a good few hours talking about the hockey game and other little topics over pizza. We never made it to the table though after it came out of the oven. We simply stood, leaning over the kitchen island side by side, giggling and whispering back and forth like teenagers. Only I could make Quinn act like a child, and only he could calm my wildest storms.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

[lulublack90]

Prompt 13 - Jockey

@wolfstarmicrofic August 13, word count 710

Previous part First Jegulus part

Sirius hadn’t seen James much since he’d brought Regulus into the café earlier that week. He’d popped in a few times on his way to meet up with Sirius’s little brother, but it was never more than a passing visit. He was on his best behaviour any way. Keeping all the sly remarks he wanted to say at Regulus’s expense to himself. Remus had given him a final warning before he got Effie involved, when he’d caught him muttering something unkind under his breath and, since then, he’d been very careful about what he said. But he had the café to keep him busy and a bet to check up on.

He had his phone propped up on the side in the kitchen with the horse racing playing on it. He didn’t particularly like horse racing, but his parents owned a racehorse, ‘Nobel Black’, who would be running in this race and, ever since he’d found out who his owners were, he placed a bet on him to lose, and every time he placed a bet the horse lost. Nobel Black had been on a winning streak before Sirius started his betting, but he hadn't won a race since that first bet. 

The horses tore around the racetrack. Nobel Black was out in front, way ahead of the others. 

“Damn it,” Sirius breathed, as the horse raced on, nearing the finish line. Then on the last turn, the horse stumbled, its shoe flew off, and the jockey was unseated. “Yes!” He cheered loudly when Nobel Black fell behind and another horse beat him to the finish line. He didn’t wish ill on the horse, he just didn’t want his parents to make any money from him. 

“Lost again did he?” Remus asked, popping his head around the corner as he got the milk from the fridge. 

“Yup,” Sirius grinned happily. 

“Good. Now, get back to work, there are people waiting,” Remus winked at him and returned to his counter. Sirius rushed out and took everyone’s orders, apologising for their wait. 

“Is James coming over tonight? He asked Remus on their way home. He was £20 better off and was treating them to a takeaway. 

“He said something about going to meet a few of Regulus’s friends, so probably not,” Remus replied. Sirius scuffed his feet on the floor. He missed his best friend. 

“Regulus’s friends are horrible,” He grumbled. 

“Are they or did you just think they were because they were Regulus’s friends?” Remus asked gently. Sirius had to really think about that. Remus had been uncovering so many things since Regulus’s return that Sirius hadn’t even realised he’d got so twisted up in his mind. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll figure everything out together,” Remus told him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. 

He sent a message to James, checking in. He was still worried no matter what Remus said. 

‘How’s it going?’ He asked. James’s reply came soon after. 

‘Great. Barty and Evan are mental. Pandora’s amazing. I'm having a really good time. We’re playing snap,’

“See,” Remus said as he peered at Sirius’s phone. “They’re playing snap. They can’t be that bad,”

“They sound a bit boring actually,” Sirius scoffed, putting his phone away and settling in to watch the film Remus had picked. 

His phone buzzed just as he and Remus were getting ready for bed. It was a short video from James. Sirius pressed play.

James’s face filled the screen. He was very clearly drunk.

“Woohoo, Sirius, you should be here. It’s crazy, look!” James turned his phone around and showed Regulus, Barty and Evan playing the fastest game of snap he’d ever seen. 

“Snap!” Regulus shouted, and the other two drank, before they started again. “Snap!” Regulus shouted again, and the other two did another round of shots. “I’m sleeping over. We’ll come to the café tomorrow. Love you!” James kissed the screen and then stopped the recording. 

“Okay, that looked like the most exciting game of snap I’ve ever seen. We should try it,” Remus said, before going into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

“Yeah, it did, didn’t it,” Sirius said quietly. James had looked so happy in those few moments on the video. Maybe he should give his brother a chance. 

Next part

[ensignsimp]

Games: TNG Taurik x GN! Reader (One-Shot)

A/N: This is such a cute request I made it into a One-Shot.

Prompt: You teach Taurik to play different Earth games, tonight is one of great skill! (Takes place before TNG S7 EP15: Lower Decks)

It was your turn to pick the game for game night again. This had become your Friday Night tradition with your friends. One of you would pick a new game to play at the Ten Forward. Last week Sam brought Monopoly which ended badly. So it was put on the Banned Games List. Sito wanted to try to play a Table Top Role Playing Game but only you and Alyssa seemed interested. (That became your Saturday Night.)

You were digging around in your locker looking for something to do when your fingers gripped a little box. You pulled out the box and looked at it. It was the size of a deck of cards, red, with a black stripe across the front reading, "UNO".

"Perfect." You laughed, thinking of the looks on everyone's faces.

Later that day you joined your friends at the Ten Forward. You were met with a few casual waves by Sito and Sam, Alyssa was already sipping on a pink cocktail, while Taurik gave you a familiar nod.

"What have you got for us this time?" Sam asked "Can't be as bad as your last pick."

Alyssa playfully slapped Sam's shoulder.

"I figured after The Monopoly Incident, we could play something more fun." You said pulling out the deck of cards.

"A card game, how old are we?" Sam asked, "Next time you'll want to play poker with the Senior Officers."

"Are you afraid you will lose again like last time?" Taurik asked raising an eyebrow.

Taurik always found ways to defend your choice. You always did the same for him. He would usually pick strategy games that would take forever to finish because Sam would insist on playing until he beat him.

"No, let's play." Same said

After reading the rules, and dealing out the cards it wasn't long before a few rounds had passed. You had gone through three synthehol drinks before you were completely dizzy and unable to focus.

"Gin Rummy." You said throwing down your plus four card to Sam.

"You mean Uno." Sito giggled watching you sway slightly in your seat.

"Yeah, that." You laughed while Sam begrudgingly took four more cards to his massive stack.

You saw Alyssa get a big smile on her face before writing something down on a blank card and then passing it to Taurik. He looked back at her and then to you only to look back at her. You could feel her swinging her feet underneath the table. She was up to something. You watch as Taurik then pulls twenty-five cards out of the deck only for Sito to let out a snort when she sees the card Alyssa played.

"What's so funny?" You asked playfully narrowing your eyes at them.

"Nothing." Alyssa said innocently, "Just playing to win."

Sito drew a card from the now diminished deck. You looked down and noticed you also had to pull one as well.

"So much for your winning streak," Sam said laying down a card.

Alyssa played another card, "Color change blue."

Then suddenly Taurik was slapping down cards. Before you knew it he was completely empty-handed.

"I believe I have won yet again." He stated proudly.

You all let out a groan throwing your remaining cards in a pile.

"How does he do that?" Sito asked, taking a few sips of water.

"Every time." Sam banged his head on the table.

"I was so close." Alyssa sighed, "I was hoping that card would work."

"You tried your best." You consoled laughing "Let's face it, we're never going to beat him."

"Whatever, let's go again," Sam said but before he could gather up the cards Guinan walked over.

"Time for bed you guys." She said, "Almost everyone else has left."

"She's right, I don't think I could play another round." You said picking up the cards and putting them back in the box.

"You'll have to wait until next Friday, Ensign Lavelle," Taurik said rising to his feet.

Sam let out an annoyed groan, "I think I already know what I'm going to bring next time."

You chuckled and walked out of the bar with your friends. Just as you were about to split up to say good night Sito grabbed Alyssa and Sam's sleeves and called over her shoulder.

"Hey Alyssa why don't we help Sam feel better and grab a quick late-night snack at the Replicator, we'll see you guys later." She said before quickly pulling your other two friends away leaving you a Taurik alone.

You questioned why the sudden change in plans, "I better be heading back to my quarters. I have an early shift."

"Allow me to escort you while the Synthehol wears off," Taurik said, you noticed a light green tint to his cheeks and ears.

You nodded and started walking together. The two of you talked about the game. It wasn't until you were just outside of your quarters you decided to ask.

"What did that card say?" You raised an eyebrow feeling more sobber.

Taurik stood in front of you sheepishly. He folded his hands in front of you and the corners of his lips twitched slightly.

"It was of a personal nature that was illogical to share." He said looking down slightly.

"Oh, well, it is always logical to tell me." You said, your curiosity was burning.

"It may compromise a relationship with someone I hold in high regard." His face was turning a dark shade of green.

"Please, don't play with my curiosity." You said pulling on his arm, "Who is it?"

"(Y/N)," He said unfolding his hands and placing one over yours.

You were shocked this was the first time he'd ever called you by your first name. He looked deep into your eyes. His sweet umber eyes were filled with so much emotion, sadness, longing, and admiration.

"I declare koon-ut so'lik, my desire to be your mate." He shut his eyes tightly, and he gripped your hand as if he was afraid you'd slip away.

"You're not playing games with me are you?" You asked reaching your free hand up to caress his cheek.

"I would never play games with you like that, Tal-kam." He said releasing his grip slightly and leaning into your touch.

[callgespenst]

I went to my first riichi mahjong tournament over the weekend and I did wildly better than I thought I would! Lot of firsts for me, just in general. I'm writing up as best a summary as I can while it's still fresh.

The tournament was in Cincinnati, Ohio (technically on a college campus in Northern Kentucky, but it's right on the border there). Just a few hours drive away. I met up with a friend on the north side of the city for sushi dinner and a quick trip to the hobby store on Friday afternoon before making my way to the AirBNB where I was staying with a dozen other mahjong players. I built a robot, played a single quick game of mahjong, and went to bed probably too late.

(There were bunk beds! I've always wanted to sleep on a bunk bed! Now that I have, I don't know if I'd recommend it, or at least the one I was on, if either party on the top or bottom bunk moves at all, the whole thing would shift.)

On Saturday, the tournament began early. Sixty! people were all there to play riichi mahjong, some locals, some all the way from the coast. I knew the five people who came from my club and no one else, so there was a lot of meeting new people. There were beginners who were so new they still didn't have most of the table etiquette down, and grizzled veterans with decades of play under their belts. There were to be six hanchan of matches, and the top eight who had accumulated the most points during that time would advance to the finals.

Hanchan 1: I uh, didn't do too great in this one. A guy who was very clearly new had a remarkable winning streak and left the rest of us in the dust. I don't feel bad about it though, partly because I'm sure it was a great experience for the guy, but also because the dude who ended up winning the whole tourney only got second in that game.

Hanchan 2: Going into this one, I was pretty intimidated. I had just gotten fourth and now I was going up against three very clearly experienced players. Towards the back half of the game, I had a riichi pinfu hand with a well-laid suji trap that ended up being a haneman ippatsu, which was enough to eke out first place.

(Break for lunch! Another first, we went to Skyline Chili, which I've never been to despite being a life-long Ohioian. I had the salad, which is probably heretical, but I think it was the right choice, because others who had the chili were drowsy the rest of the afternoon.)

Hanchan 3: Another game with experienced players where I did much, much better than I could have hoped. I dealt into a dealer mangan at the end and still won with 45000 points. I think that was my biggest misplay, I was trying too hard to end the game quickly despite the dealer having a whole bunch of value visible on the table.

Hanchan 4: The player across from me had an incredible streak going for a while, and I was in third for most of the game. We were down to the last hand, first being almost certainly out of reach, second looking possible with a mangan ron win. I was the south seat and started with a closed triplet of south winds, and very carefully built a hon itsu around it. Even when the first place player went into riichi, I managed to advance my hand to tenpai with a 2-man/3-man double pon wait while avoiding discarding in. On his last draw, that same guy discarded the 2-man, and I snagged a comfortable second, avoiding losing my hard-earned points from the previous round.

(End of day one! At this point, I was ninth! in the overall rankings. There was some free play, where I intentionally played as poorly as possible, just to get it out of my system. I would take one look at my starting hand, think "this looks like it could advance to (x)" and then try to achieve that yaku, discarding any and every other possibility. Despite that, I hit tenpai for sanshoku douko at one point, and got within 1-shanten of kokushi at another. We also went to Waffle House for dinner, always a good time. Went to bed probably too late again.)

Hanchan 5: Another game with tremendously strong players, where I was in second nearly the whole game just because I played defensively and didn't deal in, even if I didn't win anything big either. There was an upset mangan at the last moment where the player in third managed to hit the guy in first who had been controlling the whole game, putting me in third at 29400. Even with the uma bonus, I was only down 5.6, putting me down to 14th. I needed a decent second, preferably a strong first, if I had any chance of making top eight.

Hanchan 6: The game I remember most strongly. I started in the south seat, and East 1 had two repeats. Three times I was putting together a solid hand, someone else declared riichi, and I would somehow deal in each time, twice with an ippatsu. I started East 2, my dealership, already down to 12k points from 30k. Forgot top eight, at that point, I felt like I'd be lucky to not erase all my progress from the last five hanchan.

East 2 started, and I started with a fairly weak looking hand, but it seemed like I could get a win off it and have a repeat. I hit tenpai with a single wait on the 7-man, and decided not to riichi, hoping to improve my 8-9 man block into something more likely to be dealt into. Then, of course, I immediately drew the 7-man. A tsumo nomi hand for 500 points from everyone didn't do much for my score, but it did let me keep the dealer seat.

East 2-1 I started off with an odd looking hand that I immediately decided to turn into the chiitoitsu it so obviously wanted to be. I hit tenpai around turn 6, deciding to wait on the 9-pin that looked like it would come out of an opponent's hand without any trouble. And then it did, almost immediately! Another repeat.

I ended up getting up to 5-honba, with two dealer mangans in East 2. One was a super fast meitanpin tsumo dora. The other was a fairly simple riichi haku hand with a 1-4 sou wait. The player to my right dealt in pretty quickly, and I hit the chun off the ura-dora, tripling my hand's value. At the fifth repeat, another player hit riichi, and I finally relented and played it safe. He eventually tsumo'd and we finally got to East 3, where I won with another big hand.

The last hand was South 1, I had so many repeats that we hit the time limit in the middle of East 4. Once again, I hoped for a fast hand to keep my top spot and as many points as possible. It looked like a simple tanyao at first, but I just kept drawing into triplets. I ended up with a pair wait on the 3-pin, with a 4-5-6 sou and three closed triplets, while avoiding dealing into other players. I managed to draw the 3-pin myself and got one last mangan, taking my final score to 59000. The final rankings were posted and I had rocketed all the way up to second overall! My very first tournament and I managed to get to the semi-finals.

(Lunch break! We went to Big Boy)

Semi-finals were two hanchan, with eight players across two tables. No swapping between matches, played the same people twice and saw what the scores looked like across two games. Whatever mojo I had in hanchan 6 had evaporated. In game 1 I managed to snag first with a miraculous riichi ippatsu tsumo chin itsu, but the rest of the game was defensive play against other players with much faster hands. Game 2 I had maybe two very small wins, dealt in a few times, and ended in fourth. I did not make the cut to finals.

The loser's bracket for 5th through 8th place was pretty relaxed, partly because we had already lost, but mostly because 3/4 of us were from the same club. ("If I wanted to play you two, I would have just stayed home!", I said.) I didn't accomplish much here either, I got third for not dealing in. The other two from my club got first and second, and the one other guy got fourth. I placed seventh and got a cool little plaque, I'll get a good picture of it to post on here later.

I had a lot of fun and got in a lot of good experience! I don't know if I'd travel more than a state or two away for another tournament, but I definitely want to do this again. Not too soon though, I think I got overexposed over the weekend, the whole drive home I didn't even want to think about tiles.

[optimistredsox]

22 July, BOS @ COL, 8-9, loss, 12th inning

Fuck this losing streak. Three out of four games we should've won. The logical thing would be to blame bullpen attrition, having had a first half of the season where they performed above and beyond the call of duty, but that would be ignoring the far simpler and easily identifiable culprit: karma. Remember all those error-induced unearned runs that plagued the beginning of the season? The unearned runs that lost ballgames and undermined great pitching performances (at the time the rotation and bullpen were on fire)? Well, this is why you can't make mistakes like that and be a grownup baseball team vying for a place in the postseason. Because bullpens go through rough patches. They are good until they are bad and whilst Kelly and Bernadino and folks have been great, with a couple on the IL and the innings piling up, they cannot be perfect. As I said before, not everyone can be 2013 Koji Uehara (or even 2007 Hideki Okajima). So we get shitty rollercoasters that end with us losing to a shitty team that's sat in the shitty basement (though in a very lovely city in the mountains) of the NL West. I really hope this is the last of this bullshit should've won streak, because this is a streak not of games that we got the shit kicked out of us, but of games we should've fucking won. Anyway. Bright sides.

Jamie Westbrook, back from the minors due to folks going to the IL, hit a three-run dinger, which is nice.

Connor Wong also hit a dinger, but there was nobody on base. In part because over twelve innings we only walked ONCE. That is going to irk me.

Jarren Duran hit his 11th triple. Seemed a long gap between 10 and 11. He also scored twice and didn't strike out.

Tyler O'Neill made an error but he also went 3-for-5 and scored a run.

Dom Smith pinch hit and knocked in a run. Good job, Dom.

These last few games have been an aberration. I hope the team are now sick enough of this to sort their shit out and win tonight.

[matwith1t]

A/N: ‘Tis been a while 🤧 But life has slowed down a bit for me to finish my attempt at a 4+1 fic! Yay! I treasure all of your thoughts so dearly 🥺 Whether it be in the tags, an ask, or a reblog 🥺 I love them 🥺 I hope you’ve all had a wonderful day so far!! Sending everyone good vibes 🥰 I also like to think the ending of this fic is the ending to the 2021 season we deserved  🔪

Summary: The four times you watch Mat lose a hockey game, and the one time you watch him win // 4+1

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: Few Swear Words  // WC: 11.3K // Fluff

ONE

“You’ve never really watched a hockey game?”

Settling in your seats, you shrugged your shoulders and took a sip of your drink, “I’ve watched hockey, just not…actively.”

Your friend, Grace, blinked at you, “That makes no sense.”

“Like, I’ve seen bits and pieces of games if I’m at a sports bar or I’ll have it on as background noise,” you let your shoulders fall and let out a sigh, ”but I haven’t actively sat down and paid attention to a game.”

Grace rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder against yours, “You’re insane. At least the Isles have been on a winning streak so it’ll be a fun one.”

“How many have they won?”

“Fourteen,” Grace smiled as she turned her attention toward the ice to watch the players in white jersey’s skate around, “My cousin said that they’re so close to breaking a franchise record.”

You followed her gaze and stared at the ice, “Which one is your cousin again?”

“Number eighteen,” she lifted her hand to point on the ice with a smile on her face, “Tito.”

Just like you followed her gaze on the ice, you followed the invisible path of her pointer finger to where her cousin, Tito––number eighteen––was rapidly passing the puck back and forth with another player; a number thirteen.

From your seats, you didn’t have a clear view as to what the person Tito was warming up with looked like. You couldn’t see him clearly, but you could make out his general attributes. He looked taller than Tito, had a strong jawline, a youthful smile that you just knew was contagious, and flecks of brunette hair stuck out from the back of his helmet.

“Who’s that?”

Grace had her drink raised up to take a sip, but stifled out a laugh into her plastic cup before answering, “That,” she raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Is Mat Barzal.”

Your stare lingered on him as you saw a sparkle of light reflect the chain on his neck, “Mat…”

“I was banned from getting with anyone on the team,” Grace’s voice held a devious undertone, and when you broke your gaze away from Mat to look at her, her eyes matched her voice, “But you’re not related to anyone on the team.”

“Grace…” you said her name in a warning tone, but her eyes glistened even more as she plotted in her head.

She held her hands up in defense and snickered, “We’ll watch the game, go out for drinks after and then Mat––”

“Grace.”

“Whatever happens, happens!” She let out a laugh as the players skated off the ice and to their benches.

You glared at her and soon enough, the puck dropped, and the game started.

With shoulders touching for the whole game, Grace gave you a play-by-play of the game like she was your own personal announcer. While you appreciated Grace’s hockey crash course, you admittedly enjoyed the sound of the skates gliding across the ice and the puck slapping between sticks more. Captivated by the game, your eyes never left the ice, and as your eyes followed the puck, they also scanned the ice for a number thirteen.  

“What the fuck was that!” Grace yelled as she stood up with the rest of the fans in protest.

You were too lost in your head to know what had happened, but after you blinked a few times, you saw number thirteen––Mat––angrily exchange words with a Bruins player. And with a referee between them to ensure they kept their distance, Mat was off to the penalty box.

Grace sat down with a huff and crossed her arms, “Such a bad call.”

You wanted to ask her what exactly happened, but you felt the anger radiating off her. Instead, you averted your gaze from your friend and stared at Mat. He took off his helmet, shook out his hair and ran a hand through it.

“So now Anders…” Grace started off with another explanation, but your vision was solely focused on Mat breathing heavily from inside the penalty box.

The atmosphere of the arena, and being surrounded by a sea of orange and blue, was an exhilarating rush that you missed the moment the game ended. Instead of the excited cheers from when the game first started, fans exited the arena with disdainful words at the Islanders loss. You let Grace sit in silence, allowing her to collect her thoughts, and with one last deep breath, she faced you with a painful smile.

“Come on, we’ll go to a bar and wait for them.”

You nodded and blindly followed her out of the arena.

“Them?” you asked as you made it out of your section and into the concourse.

Grace’s painful smile turned into a mischievous smirk, “Yeah, I texted Tito and told him to bring along Mat.”

“Grace––”

“He had a tough game,” she covered up her plan with an excuse just as phony as her voice, “He needs a drink, or two…Or someone nice to talk to and––”

“Grace.”

“He’s a nice guy!” She defended herself as she opened the door for both of you to exit, the October chill hitting you extra hard with it being toward the end of the month, “He’s fun, carries conversation well, is very pretty, and painfully single.”

You snorted and followed her down the sidewalk, “Painfully single?”

Grace nodded her head admittedly, “Hasn’t a real relationship in quite some time.” You hummed in response, a hopeful feeling in the pit of your stomach rising, as Grace turned her head towards you with a smirk, “Hm indeed.”

You shoved her shoulder and changed the topic of conversation as you walked toward Grace’s car. And when Grace tried to casually bring Mat up on the drive to the bar, you shut her down. It wasn’t until the two of you got to the bar, and Grace received a text from her cousin saying that they were on their way, that you faced her and asked about him yourself.

Grace laughed, “He’ll be here soon to answer all of your questions about him.”

With a deep breath, you circled your hands around your water glass and glared at her. The whole night she was very clear with her intentions on teasing you about Mat. And now when you wanted to talk about him, she was the one who shut you down. But you followed her lead and chatted about a new restaurant that popped up in her neighborhood the other week.

Grace was in the middle of detailing the wine menu of the new restaurant when she abruptly stopped, stood up in the booth you were sitting in, and waved her hands above her head, “Tito!” Your eyes widened, “Mat!”

Your heart dropped down deep into your stomach.

You sat frozen in your seat when Grace left the booth and hugged her cousin, “What a tough loss,” she patted Tito’s back.

Tito shrugged his shoulders, “It’s just a hockey game,” Grace shoved his shoulder and he rolled his eyes, “Okay, fine, yeah it’s shit.” Tito’s eyes momentarily glanced down at you still sitting, you knew Grace said that she was with a friend, but you thought it’d be best to actually introduce yourself.

“Sorry for the loss,” you smiled sympathetically at Tito and stood up, “Grace told me you guys were on a winning streak.” Your eyes shifted over to Mat to see him intently staring at you, “I’m, Y/N.”

“I’ve heard about you from this one,” Tito slung an arm around Grace’s shoulder and pulled her in close, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Tito, and this––” Tito lightly kicked the side of Mat’s calf, who blinked a few times to regain focus, “Is Mat, he also plays hockey on the Islanders.”

“Oh, she knows Mat.”

At Grace’s comment, your mouth dropped, Tito tipped his head back in laughter, and Mat’s face flushed as he let out a small laugh with his eyes falling down to the ground. But when he looked back up to your eyes, he bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smirk.

You glared at Grace, “Not before today.”

Mat’s face was the one to drop now, as he tilted his head with eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Tito let out another laugh––this one louder––as Grace joined in. Tito wiped tears away from the corner of his eyes and excused himself to go buy a round of drinks for the table.

Grace slid back into her spot, you sat down in yours, and Mat slid in next to you. You felt your body stiffen and moved your hands from the cushion to on top of the table.

“How’ve you been, Mat?” Grace rested one of her elbows on the table and leaned her cheek against her palm, “Any girls?”

Mat chuckled, and when he rolled his eyes, you saw him glance at you from the corner of your eye, “Always skipping the small talk, Grace,” Mat shook his head, “But no, just hockey.”

“You and Y/N are so boring,” Grace let out a playful dramatic sigh, but you saw the glint of teasing in her eyes as she glanced at you, “Both painfully single.”

Your mouth dropped at her bluntness and Mat laughed.

“Hockey looks like a commitment in itself, Grace,” your eyes narrowed in on your friend, trying to cover up her obvious set up attempt, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Grace flipped you off and rolled her eyes, “You haven’t watched a game before today, don’t act like you know what kind of ‘commitment’ hockey is,” she raised her fingers to put air quotes around commitment.

Embarrassment was the only emotion you felt take over your entire body. And you felt yourself drown even more when you heard a hearty laugh from the person next to you.

Tito came back and put a tray of drinks on the table, “Did I hear that correctly?” He passed drinks around the table and raised his eyebrows at you, “Or was Grace lying?”

“Well, like––It’s not––I mean, I’ve seen hockey before but––”

Grace nudged her shoulder against yours, “I’m joking,” she offered you a supportive smile a–-you got this––message hidden beneath her tone, as she turned her back to you to catch up on the latest family drama with her cousin.

That left you and Mat alone.

With a deep breath, you circled your hand around the pint glass that Tito brought over and took a sip of the beer. And you didn’t stop siping your beer until Mat let out a soft chuckle.

“Have you really not watched a hockey game before today?”

With one last sip, you set the glass down on the table and fully faced Mat. He had a small smile on his face as he awaited your answer, “Yes and no,” he raised his eyebrows, silently asking you to explain. So you gave him the same spiel you gave Grace earlier about how you had never actively paid attention to a hockey game.

“So that’s why you didn’t know who I was,” Mat smirked, his ego seemingly repaired, as he took a sip of his own drink.

You scoffed, “You all look the same with your helmets on, I wouldn’t have recognized you even if I did watch hockey.”

Mat had his glass up to take another drink, but he laughed into it instead and set it down on the tabletop. He ran a hand through his hair, “That just means you should watch more games.”

“That depends,” you said as you felt Grace tap the top of your foot with hers, silently telling you that you were doing a great job. You felt excitement brew in the pit of your stomach because it looked like Mat was enjoying himself just as much as you, “Will you win the next one I watch?”

Mat scratched his nose and dramatically took in a deep breath as a joke, “I’d like to hope so, but I think you might need a new shirt,” he slightly leaned forward and took the material of the sleeve of your shirt between his fingers. Your breath caught in your throat as he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and index finger. And when he dropped your short sleeve, his knuckles grazed your bicep for half a second, “How can you go to an Islanders game and not wear any Islanders gear?”

With your brain still shut down and only thinking back to the way his touch felt on your skin, you tried to think of something quick.

“Grace asked me to go last minute,” the excuse flowed easily out of your mouth for your brain completely void of any thoughts except for the feeling of Mat’s touch that still lingered on your skin, “I didn’t have enough time to get a shirt.”

Mat hummed and kept his confident eyes locked on you as he took a sip of his beer, “We’ll have to change that for the next game.”

–––

TWO

You heard the seething rain pelt against the window as you made your way from the kitchen of your apartment to the living area. With a steaming cup of hot tea in between your hands, and a blanket hung over your shoulders that dragged on the ground behind you, you scurried to the couch where you heard your phone ringing.

With your socks shuffling along the hardwood floor, you moved fast to catch your phone before it went to voicemail, but tried to move as carefully as you could with a hot beverage.

When you reached for your phone on the couch cushion, you saw a selfie of Mat––his morning hair sticking up, one eye squinted shut, with a smug smirk gracing his lips, as a sliver of his collarbone was barely visible on the screen. The selfie of him in the morning took up your screen, and you fondly gazed at it for a second, but then slid your phone and lifted it up to your ear.

“Hey,” you smiled as you slowly sat down on the couch. But when you reached over to set your tea down on the coffee table, some hot water spilled over the cup, “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath and shook out your hand.

You heard Mat’s chuckle on the other end, along with a smile, “Everything good?”

“Yeah, yeah, just spilled tea on my hand,” you said as you wrapped the blanket further around your body and tucked yourself into the arm of the couch, “Ready for tonight’s game?”

Mat let out a sigh, “A little nervous.”

“Where are you?”

“Sitting on my bed in the hotel room,” you could picture him running a hand through his hair, “Alone.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, “Where’s Tito?”

“I told him to head over without me,” Mat breathed out softly, “Wanted to call you before the game.”

You felt your heart swell in your chest as an immense smile lit up your face and caused your cheeks to hurt, “Are you in a suit at least?” Mat hummed in an affirmative response, “What are you wearing?”

Mat’s loud laugh caused your already enormous smile to widen, “If you ask me that, expect the question to be turned around to you.”

Your laugh mirrored his as you leaned the side of your head against the back cushion, “Well, I’m not wearing anything too exciting,” you played into his last comment.

“I’m all ears,” the smugness in his voice was as loud as the rain pouring down, and you could just picture him putting an arm behind his head, a shit-eating smirk on his face as he rested his head against the headboard.

You chuckled, “I’m only wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and wrapped in a blanket.”

“What shirt?”

“The one you bought me,” you rolled your eyes, “The blue Islanders shirt with your name on the back.”

“Ah,” Mat made a tsk noise in the back of his throat, “That’ll definitely give me motivation for the game.”

“Shut up,” you felt your stomach churn with embarrassment, but you couldn’t help but smile when you heard his sweet-sounding laugh.

Once Mat’s laughter died down, he cleared his throat, “Is Grace coming over to watch the game?”

You shook your head, “Just me tonight.”

“Will you know what’s going on?”

You scoffed at his comment, “With the games I’ve watched so far this season, I can follow along.”

Mat snickered, “If you say so…”

You let out an airy laugh, the conversation dwindling down as you knew he had to leave for the arena soon. And in the few months you had been seeing each other, you knew Mat would sit peacefully on the phone in silence if he truly wanted to avoid something.

You circled back to his early statement from when he first called, “Why are you nervous?”

He let out a deep breath, “I haven’t been playing well.”

“That’s not true,” you tried to encourage him, because even though you thought he was an excellent player, when you watched the games with Grace she did say how Mat was having a mediocre season. “You’ve set up great plays, your team is second in the eastern division–-You have nothing to worry about.”

Mat let out another deep breath, not convinced of your words, “Have you ever seen us win a game?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought back to all of the games you’ve watched on T.V. and in person. But you couldn’t find a specific memory of either the stadium erupting in cheers at the end of a game, or the sound of content broadcasters recapping an Islanders win.

“I’m sure I have…” your words weren’t as convincing as you’d like them to be.

“What was the last game you watched?”

“The Saturday game,” you answered him.

“Did you watch the game on Tuesday?”

You shook your head, “Got held up with work. Why?

Mat hummed, “Just wondering.”

The two of you fell back into silence, and while hearing him breathe on the other end was just as calming as hearing him talk, you knew he was cutting it close with his time. You didn’t want to leave him, but you knew he had to go. And it seemed like he had the same thought as you as he let out an exhausted breath.

“I should probably go soon.”

You fiddled with the corner of the blanket, trying to keep your dismal voice to a minimum, “Probably.”

You heard Mat get up from the bed as he let out a yawn, “I miss you.”

A delicate smile tugged the corner of your lips upward, “I miss you too.”

“We fly back early tomorrow morning.”

You knew he was coming back to New York tomorrow, but you still felt excited when you heard him detail his travel plans to you, “I can pick you up?”

The sound of a door closing on the other end clued you into how Mat left his room, but he didn’t leave your phone call yet, “There’s a shuttle picking us up and dropping us off at the arena. My car’s there.” You nodded your head, tightening the blanket around your shoulders, “But I have the day off,” Mat quickly added in, “I can head right to your place.”

“If you’re not too tired,” you wanted to spend time with him, but with how exhausted he sounded, you wouldn’t blame him if he wanted alone time.

“Trust me, there’s no place I’d rather be right now than in bed with you,” Mat said as you heard the ding of the elevator, “I’ll call you later?”

You nodded your head against the couch cushion, “Yeah that sounds good,” you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, “Good luck!”

Mat tried to let out a small laugh, but it sounded more pitiful and self-loathing than anything else, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When the call ended, you spent the rest of your time until the game started mindlessly scrolling on your phone. The TV was on the channel for the game, and when the commentators talked about how the Islanders played on their Saturday game versus their Tuesday game…your interest piqued.

Your thoughts went back to Mat asking about the previous games you had watched. You had watched the Saturday game…and they lost. But you did not watched the Tuesday game…and they won. You knew how superstitious some hockey players were. But in the three months you had been dating Mat, he never gave off the aura of needing to have certain practices in place to play a good game…but he loved to win.

He loved to win almost more than anything in the world.

You unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders and walked to your room to pull out a pen and notepad. Once you had those materials, you sat back down on the couch and opened up the NHL app. You documented every Islanders game you’ve attended in your camera roll, and did your best to remember which ones you watched on TV.

And when you finished organizing the games you’ve watched into columns of WON and LOST…there were no dates in the WON column.

A nervous feeling bubbled up in your stomach, but then the rational part of your brain weighed in and said no. Your mind told you there was no correlation between you watching and them losing. So you got comfortable on the couch and turned the volume up.

The first period was fine, the second period was bad, and the third period was a tragedy.

You debated on turning off the game, but you wanted to prove to yourself that you weren’t the problem. But that confidence dwindled away with each goal scored against the Islanders.

You waited a few hours until you figured Mat would be back in his hotel room. Biting a piece of loose skin by your nail, you sent a text to Mat: Are you up to talk tonight?

It took nearly twenty minutes for Mat to respond: Feeling exhausted, already in bed about to fall asleep.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. It already sounded like he had an inclination that he lost a game whenever you watched.…Your thoughts only spiraled more negatively until you received another text from him.

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow :)

You crawled into bed feeling the tiniest bit better, but still had a queasy feeling in your stomach as you fell asleep with your mind circling about Mat.

It could have been twenty minutes, or ten hours later, you wouldn’t know. But what you did know was that there was a knock at your door. You thought it was something from a dream, but the knocking became progressively louder. Bleary-eyed, you kicked off your sheets and rubbed your eyes with your fist as you made your way to the door.

Peeking through the peephole, you saw a very exhausted looking Mat. Unlocking all of your locks, you opened the door and tiredly smiled at him.

Mat let out a soft chuckle, one that made you fall for him even more, and took your hand in his when he stepped into your apartment, “You look as tired as I feel.”

You blinked a few times, trying to wake up so you could fully appreciate the warmness of his hand in yours as he led you to your bedroom. Once you saw your bed, you dropped his hand and slid back under the covers. Mat wasn’t too far behind. He kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt, so that he was only in his sweatpants, and crawled in right next to you.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him so that your back was firmly pressed up against his chest. He let out one of the biggest sighs of relief that you had ever heard, and it eased the doubts that swirled around your mind the previous night before you fell asleep.

Mat pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here.”

“In a bed?” You mumbled, still feeling half asleep, as you picked his hands off you for a second to adjust yourself. Once your body was facing him, and you nuzzled your head into his warm chest, Mat’s arms wound back around your body.

“With you.”

You smiled and pressed an innocent kiss to his chest, “Sorry about the loss last night.”

Mat took in a deep breath, and you felt him hold it in for a few seconds before he let it out, “Let’s not talk about that. I wanna sleep.”

Without giving him a response, you nodded your head against his chest. And with one last kiss pressed to your forehead, you fell asleep with the one person who always brought out the best in you.

–––

THREE

“Let’s turn the game on.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” Grace whined as she took a sip of her wine, “I thought I was coming over to watch the game.” She gave you a pointed look, “But you have me looking at kitchenware.”

You pointed back to your laptop that was on the coffee table, an assortment of kitchen plates and glasses pulled up on the screen with full brightness, “Mat’s moving and I want to get him nice plates!”

Grace scoffed, “You do know why he’s moving, right?”

“Said he wanted a bigger place,” you shrugged your shoulders.

With a snort into her wine glass, Grace had to set it down as she threw her head back against the couch and cackled. “He is one person, why do you think he’d want a bigger place?” You shrugged your shoulders and waited until all of her laughter was out until she continued, “He’s going to ask you to move in with him.”

Your mouth dropped and eyes widened, “No, that’s––No. We’ve only been dating for like six months. He still likes his own space after a game, and––No. There’s no way.”

Grace’s smirk only widened at your denial, “Well, maybe not now, but give him a year or so and I bet you’ll be out of your shoebox of an apartment.”

You glared at her, “I like my shoebox.”

“He took you to see this new place before he bought it?” Grace asked and you nodded slowly, “And he made sure you liked it?” Again, you nodded your head, “He’s so far gone for you.”

“Grace.”

“I’m piecing together things you’ve told me of Mat and from what Tito has told me!” Grace held her hands up in defense, “It’s a good thing he’s seeing a future with you in it.” And with her earnest words, she moved toward you on the couch, and placed a hand on your thigh, “So why don’t you want to watch the game?”

With a sigh, you shut your laptop and faced her woeful eyes, “He always loses when I watch.”

“Ha,” Grace let out a single sound, thinking you were joking, but when she saw your eyes downcast on your crossed legs, she gave your knee a squeeze, “I guarantee you that that’s impossible for them to have lost every game you’ve watched.”

You held up your index finger, signaling for her to wait, as you hurried into your room and pulled out the notepad you started keeping track of three months ago. You dropped it on her lap and she looked down at it, looked back up at you, and then flipped a few pages over.

“Shit,” she chuckled, “They really do lose every game.”

You groaned, “And they’ve been doing so well recently, I don’t want to mess them up!”

Grace waved you off and placed the notepad on top of your laptop, “I can assure you Mat is not superstitious about that stuff,” she offered you a soft smile, “He would want you to watch the game.”

You shook your head in protest.

“I’m turning it on.”

“No you’re not––”

Grace swiped the remote from the coffee table before you could reach for it, and turned on the Islanders hockey game. And right when she turned it on, the camera was on a close up of Mat––who was smiling ear to ear––as the television screen went to a replay of the goal Mat just scored.

“See!” Grace gestured toward the T.V., “He’d want you to watch so you can tell him how nice of a goal he scored.” You flipped her off as you felt the insides of your stomach grow hot, but Grace didn’t pay any mind to your embarrassment, “It’s the third period, they’re up by three––The Flames have no goals––and there’s six minutes left in the game.”

Wringing your hands together in nervousness, you glanced up at the television, “I guess we can watch.”

Grace let out a satisfactory smile and moved right next to you to lean her head on your shoulder, “They’re a good hockey team, there’s no way they’ll blow a three nothing lead with barely any time left.”

But Grace had spoken too soon.

A minute after you tuned into the game, the Flames scored a goal. You turned your head toward Grace with a grimace, but she waved you off. Then Tito got a minor penalty for hooking, and the Flames scored again on a power play.

“Turn it off,” you buried your head in your hands, “They’re up by one, turn it off before they lose.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Grace chirped, “There’s less than two minutes, they can’t possibly––”

“And the Flames tie it up!”

You let out a groan and lifted your head to peek through the slits of your fingers to see the Flames celebrating the goal. The camera panned to the Islanders’ bench, and they all looked dejected, but also confused as to how they let the lead slip away that quickly.

You got up from the couch, “I’ll be in the kitchen for the rest of the game.”

“No you’re not,” Grace grabbed onto your forearm and pulled you back down on the couch, “It’s not your fault that they can’t keep a lead.”

“Explain to me how we’ve been watching for five minutes and the Isles blew it?” you whined pathetically, heart clenching in your chest because all you wanted was for Mat to succeed and be happy. But it was hard when you wanted to watch him succeed, but whenever you did watch him, he lost.

She dropped your arm and tried her best to comfort you, “Go to the kitchen and I’ll tell you what happens in overtime.”

Jumping up from the couch, you sped into the kitchen with your arms crossed over your chest. Pacing around in a small circle in your kitchen, you heard Grace shout at the television whenever the Islanders did something she liked and whenever she thought a poor play was made. But there were a few moments of silence, and then she walked into the kitchen.

With wide eyes, you awaited for the verdict of the game. She winced, “It’s going to a shootout.”

“Jesus Christ,” you swore under your breath, “See! I can’t watch the games––”

“At least watch the first shot,” Grace tilted her head with a sympathetic smile, “It’s Mat.”

You didn’t want to watch it. This game only solidified your belief that the New York Islanders lost every game you watched. But if Mat was up first, then you could turn the game off after him. Reluctantly, you nodded and Grace dragged you into the living area just as the commercial break went back to the game.

Holding your breath, you squeezed your hands into a fist as you watched Mat skate around in a circle before taking the puck. He skated from the center line, handling the puck well, and when he bought his stick back to shoot, the puck went wide. The camera zoomed in on him after his failed goal, and you could clearly read his lips yelling out, fuck, in frustration.

“I’m turning it off.”

“No!” Grace went to steal the remote from your hands, but you held it up over your head, out of reach from her, “I think Tito might do a shootout.”

“I can’t––”

“He’s my cousin,” Grace pleaded, “Family. I have to be supportive.” She dramatically batted her eyelashes at you, pleading for you not to turn off the game.

You knew it was a ploy for her to get you to watch the rest of the game, but you still easily fell into her trap. You wish you hadn’t listened to her because Tito didn’t get a chance to shoot in the shootout.

And the Islanders lost.

“Damn,” Grace side-glanced at you, “You might really be a bad luck charm.”

–––

FOUR

The Islanders had made it all the to the second round in their journey to the Stanley Cup.

And since the start of their playoff run, you’ve successfully steered clear of watching a full Islanders game. You would either always call, text, or see Mat off before a game to wish him luck. Before the first game of the first round, you promised him to watch––and you did––but it was the last time you made that promise after they were demolished by the opposing team. But you got along fine talking to Mat about the games he played…you just had to stay away from specific details.

Grace helped you out a bit and would fill you in if Mat had any stand out plays. And you always read every game recap and watch every post-game media availability. While you did try and watch at least a few minutes of every period, you never wanted to watch for too long in fear of whatever curse you had would come up.

But there was no way to escape this game.

You fixed Mat’s tie around his neck as the two of you stood by the door of Mat’s new apartment. After you were done fiddling with his tie, you placed both hands on his chest and looked up at him. He placed a hand on your hip and smiled, “I’m excited for you to be there tonight.”  

You let out a nervous chuckle and tried to conceal your painful smile as much as possible, “I’m glad my schedule has cleared up a bit…” you told him a little white lie, “You’ve been playing amazing.”

Mat wiggled his eyebrows and you swatted his chest. But before your hand made its way back down to your side, he caught it with his free hand and laced your fingers together, “And you’ll get to see me live finally.”

With a roll of your eyes, you squeezed his hand, “I won’t get the nice closeups of you like I do with the ones on my T.V. though”

“You’re having a close up right now,” Mat whispered as he leaned his forehead against yours, “And you can have one again tonight.”

“Oh, can I?” You raised an eyebrow.

Mat smirked and let out a single breathy laugh through his nose, “You can have all the closeups you want.”

You raised a hand and let your fingertips softly graze over Mat’s facial hair. With it being game five of the second round, his beard had grown out quite nicely and was now past the stubble phase. You cupped his cheek; and Mat closed his eyes as he nuzzled against your hand, his beard tickling your palm.

Leaning in slightly, you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Good luck,” you whispered.

Mat cleared his throat, an ahem sound coming from the back of his throat as he moved his face in front of yours. You blankly stared at him and he intentionally stared back at you.

He pinched your hip, “If you’re getting a close up tonight I want a real kiss.”

A monotonous laugh escaped from your lips, and you let the hand that was cupping the side of his face trail to behind his neck. You also let go of holding his hand, and brought it up to the side of his neck. An easy smile lit up Mat’s face as your fingers played with the strands of his long hair.

And this time when you leaned in, you pressed a gentle, but lingering kiss to his lips. You felt Mat smile as he received a kiss exactly how he wanted. And you felt yourself begin to smile too as you felt his fingers creep around your waist. With your arms wound around his neck, you urged him forward, holding him close as he deepened the kiss. Mat made another noise in the back of his throat––a sound of content––as his hand inched its way under your shirt until his palm was flat against your lower back, pressing you even closer into him.

Just when Mat parted his lips against yours, you slowly broke away from the kiss.

Mat breathed heavily and you patted his chest, “You don’t want to be late.”

Groaning about how the kiss was cut short, Mat tucked his head into the crook of your neck. Starting at your collarbone, his beard tickled your skin as he peppered kisses all along your neck to just below your ear, “I’ll score a goal for you tonight.”

You stifled out a laugh because he promised you that before every game. And like the first game of his you watched after he first asked you out, you felt an excited swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’ll be watching.”

With a sigh, and one last squeeze of your hips, Mat pressed one last chaste goodbye kiss to your lips before straightening up, “Make sure you wear the jersey I got you.”

You scoffed, placing both palms on his chest to push him out the door, “I’ll wear what I want.”

Mat tipped his head back and laughed loudly; he had a foot out the door, but still had his head leaned in towards you, “I love you.”

The phrase was still new––only having exchanged the words for the first time a couple weeks ago––but you still felt as giddy as the first night Mat told you. You bit the inside of your cheek, and tucked your chin into your chest to ease the glowing feeling you felt in the pit of your stomach.

Unable to resist his charm, you leaned forward once more, and pecked his lips, “I love you, too.”

There was no doubt Mat’s smile shinned just as bright as the feeling you felt in the middle of your chest. You were positive there was no greater amount of happiness you could ever possibly feel in your lifetime after he said those three words to you.

“If you love me, wear my jersey.”

And with that, he swiftly walked through the door. His happiness left you high in the clouds, but with his comment, he left you speechless. Even though you could’ve swatted his chest one last time, or provided him with a remark that would slash his ego in half…you still stood at the door with a blinding smile on your face.

––

The ride back to Mat’s apartment was silent.

You knew how the game would end as you fixed Mat’s tie before he left his place. You knew how it was going to end as you slipped on his jersey he asked you to wear. And you knew the night wasn’t going to hold as much banter like it did earlier after the Islanders were down by four points heading into the third period.

Unsurprising to you, the Islanders had lost a game you watched.

You had carpooled to the game with Grace, not wanting to have two cars in the arena, but now you were questioning if you should’ve brought two cars. You had been with Mat all day up until he had to leave for the game, and you knew that he liked to have time to himself after a game; whether they won or lost. And now you were driving his car back to his place, as he stared at the street lights in silence with a clenched jaw.

The overthinking churned in your head just as bad as the overwhelming negative nerves in your stomach. Did he even want you at the game? Did he want you back at his place? Did he even want to talk to you? You couldn’t help stop the insecurities that easily seeped their way from the depths of your mind, so you tried to take every short cut you knew back to Mat’s place to make the drive faster.

When you finally parked in Mat’s spot at his place, and he let out an agitated sigh, you looked over at him the same time you lifted up the emergency break, “Do you want me to leave?”

Mat unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to you with furrowed eyebrows, “Why…Why would I want you to leave?”

You shrugged your shoulders and gnawed on your bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with him, “I know you sometimes like to be left alone after a game…”

Mat’s stare continued to burn through you the longer both of you sat in silence in his car. And when the automatic lights on the inside dimmed to darkness, Mat placed a hand on top of yours, “I want you to stay.” You tore your vision away from your lap to look up at him. And even though it was dark, you could clearly see his earnest eyes the same way he clearly saw your uncertainty, “Okay?”

With a nod, you unbuckled and exited the car the same time as Mat. He met you at the trunk of his car and immediately slipped his hand into yours as the two of you walked to his apartment. The sound of the key echoed through the silent hallway just as loud as the insecurities that swirled around your head. And just as quiet as the drive back from the arena, the two of you did your bedtime routine in silence.

Mat was done before you, and when you closed the bathroom door behind you, you expected him to be curled up under the duvet. But he was sat on the edge of the bed––in just his sweatpants––with his elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands.

Carefully, you walked over and sat next to him. And when you placed a comforting hand on his back, you felt him shakily suck in a deep breath.

Your shoulders fell as you recognized the uneasy breathing, his usual prelude to burying his emotions until they got the better of him.

You moved closer to him, your thigh pressing up against his, as you leaned your head on his shoulder. You continued to rub circles along his back and pressed a featherlight kiss to his shoulder, “It’s just one game.”

You heard him gulp as he nodded his head that was still buried into the palms of his hands.

It broke your heart to see him this way; hiding away from you because he was ashamed of his emotions. But you loved him. You loved every fiber of his being so much that it almost pained you.

“You have Wednesday night,” you whispered, and again, he nodded silently to himself, “You played amazing offense tonight.”

Mat breathed out the deep breath he held in, and you felt his muscles contract under the tips of your fingers. Unlike all of the times Mat nodded his head to agree with you, he shook his head no in his hands.

Your hand tailed from his back up to his shoulder that you squeezed in reassurance, “Mat––”

Again, he shook his head no. But instead of hiding away from you, he lifted his head, and his broken-downed face caused your heart to clench. His nostrils flared as his chest heaved in the slightest as he failed to even out his breathing, eyes bloodshot, and he gulped.

“I played like shit,” Mat ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “And don’t tell me I didn’t, because I heard the crowd yell at me.” His voice dropped down to a whisper, as he looked down at his hands, “You were there tonight…I wanted to play well.”

Your heart squeezed at his defeated tone of voice, and you had no doubt that the thoughts in his head were beating him down more than you could ever imagine.

You circled your arms around his waist and hugged him tight. Even with the shirt you were wearing, you could still feel the warmth radiating off his skin, “I know you’re an amazing hockey player,” you placed your head into the crook of his neck and Mat rested a hand on your thigh, “You’ve made it way further than anyone thought you guys would this season. And you’re not out yet,” you pressed a lingering kiss to the base of his neck.

Mat squeezed your thigh as he leaned his cheek on your head. From the far off undertone in his voice, you knew he was blankly staring at the wall, “I feel like I never play good enough whenever you watch.” Your body tensed up, “And it––I feel like such a loser.”

What were you supposed to say to him? How could you say that you agreed with him without totally hindering his already waning confidence? And it wasn’t like he was the one who played poorly whenever you watched…The Islanders, as a team, never played consistently when you watched.

You took in a deep breath of Mat, and he traced unrecognizable shapes on your leg, “Want to know what I think?”

His fingers on your thigh paused, almost like he debated with himself if he wanted to hear your thoughts. But when he breathed out a small, ‘always,’ and continued to trace patterns on your leg, you lifted your head to look up at him.

With his eyes trained down on your thigh, you removed one of your arms from around his waist and cupped his cheek. You felt his jaw tighten ever so slightly, and you had an inkling that he probably didn’t want to look at you in this moment, but you wanted him to know how sincere your words were.

“Mat…” you softly murmured his name as you turned his head to face you. And while his head moved, his eyes didn’t pick up. Your thumb traced along his jawline, his beard scratching against your hand as he closed his eyes; seeking liberation from his thoughts in your touch.

“I have seen you play great hockey,” his eyes glanced up at you for a moment, before he looked away. You let out a sigh, “You’re still leading the series––”

“But did you see how many turnovers I had––”

“––And while tonight’s game didn’t go as planned, you still have more chances to prove yourself,” you interrupted him so he couldn’t tear himself down more than he already had, “You continue to keep proving people wrong. You continue to impress people with your talent.” Again, he picked his eyes up to look at you, and this time, he kept your eye contact, “I’m always so in awe when I watch you play. You’re so happy on the ice, you love your team, and you always go into a game wanting to put your best effort forward.”

A faint smile made its way onto Mat’s face, which in turn, caused you to smile as well.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore because I know you’re tired, and you lost a game––” his smile dropped, but you kept your hand firmly in place on his cheek so he couldn’t move away, “But, if my opinion means anything, I’m always proud of you when you play.”

Mat offered you a minuscule smile as he pressed the softest kiss to the inside of your hand, “Your opinion is the only one that matters to me.”

Your shoulders relaxed, and you tilted your head to gaze at him with a smile that shined bright with adoration,”So please know that I’m proud of you.”

Mat mirrored your love-sick smile and brought both of his arms around you in a strong hug. Always feeling the safest in his arms, you let out a sigh and squeezed him just as tight. Mat rocked you back and forth until his fingers sneaked under your shirt and tickled your sides. With a laugh, you flinched at the feeling, and Mat only held you tighter against him when you tried to escape his embrace.

And with Mat’s chest rumbling with laughter whenever you tried to pull away from him, the two of you fell back onto the mattress. Mat had stopped tickling you, but his hold on you hadn’t lightened up. You stayed on top of the covers with Mat for a few more minutes until he complained about being too cold and wanting to get under the sheets.

“How are you cold?” you scoffed as you slid under the covers. You pulled them up to your chest as you moved onto your side to face Mat, “You’re a literal furnace.”

Mat rolled his eyes at you and hooked an ankle around yours and tugged it towards him, silently telling you to move closer to him. You scooched over a few inches until the tips of your noses were nearly touching each other. He slung an arm around your waist, as his hand inched up your back, under your shirt.

“I bet this wasn’t the closeup you were expecting after the game,” Mat’s breath fanned your face, “Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes as you felt Mat’s fingers play with the elastic of your shorts, “That doesn’t matter,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I’m happy with this close up.”

Mat breathed out a laugh through his nose as the corners of his lips softly turned up in a small closed-lipped smile, “I love you.”

Every part of your body felt relaxed whenever those words passed through his lips. When you heard those words; no thought of yours felt trivial, no problem you experienced felt inconceivable, and you felt reassured that you put all of your trust in the right person.

Leaning forward just an inch, you softly touched your lips to Mat’s. Neither one of you initiated anything further, it was just the two of you enjoying being close to one another. When you pulled away, Mat readjusted himself on the bed so he was laying flat on his back. And he curled an arm around your shoulder as you stayed on your side, resting your head just below his collarbone, as one of your palms laid flat on his chest.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, “I love you, too.”

Beneath you, you felt Mat let out a deep sigh of content. You imagined that he felt all of the same wave of emotions that went through your mind and body when you heard him say those words to you; Safety, acceptance, and an unconditional support system.

“Your arm will fall asleep if you keep it under me like this,” you whispered into his chest.

Mat hummed in acknowledgment, “It always does. But then you always move on your other side, and then I follow, and put my arm around you.”

And when he noticed minute details like that, you could hear that he loved you just as much as you loved him.

–––

+1

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you clutched Grace’s arm as the two of you walked into the concourse of the Coliseum.

It was reminiscent of the first Islanders game you attended with Grace. Fans were decked out in their best Islanders gear, the cheers and chants were louder than you had ever heard them, and the game hadn’t started yet. But this game had more on the line than the measly regular season game you first attended back in October.

Because it was now the month of June and it was game seven of the Stanley Cup final.

“Stop overreacting,” Grace glared at you as the two of you stood in line to get drinks before heading out your seats, “I swear Mat picks up on whatever nerves you feel.”

Your eyes widened, “You’ve seen my list––”

“And that’s why we’re only going to think positive thoughts,” Grace sternly said as she ordered two drinks; one for herself and one for you. When both drinks were poured, Graced handed over yours and you smiled, “Mat would never let you miss this game over a conspiracy theory you created for yourself.”

You sighed and fell into step alongside Grace as you made your way to your seats, “But did you see Tito last night?” Grace slowly nodded, “There were only a few people left after the team dinner. And when Mat mentioned I was coming, Tito’s mouth dropped, and Mat had to glare at him as if to keep him quiet!”

And just like how her cousin was last night, Grace remained silent.

Showing your tickets to the user, they directed both of you to your seats that weren’t too far behind the Islanders’ bench. And when the two of you were settled, and Grace sipped on her drink without taking a break to keep silent, you had your confirmation.

“See! His best friend even thinks I’m a bad luck charm,” you slumped down in the seat and pouted, “I’ll take a nap. That way I’ll be here, but I won’t watch the game so that way––”

“No,” Grace set down her plastic beer cup in the cup holder in front of her, “You’re watching the game.”

“But what if––”

Luckily, your drink was also placed in a cup holder when Grace slapped your wrist, “They’ve played well enough to make it this far, it’s like you have no faith in your boyfriend.”

You glared at her, “I do have faith in him,” you quickly picked back up your drink, seeing it as an item of safety because Grace wouldn’t dare cause a drink spillage on something she paid for. With a sigh, you took a sip of your drink and glanced up at her, “I’m so proud of him for making it this far, and all I want is to see him win. This game is a big deal to him.”

Grace offered you a closed-lipped sympathetic smile, “You being here is more than enough for him.”

“Grace, I’ve never seen him win a game,” you turned your head slightly to look at the players warming up on the ice.

Like the first game you attended with your best friend, you saw Mat and Tito rapidly passing the puck back and forth to each other, getting closer together with each second. But this time, you knew who he was. And even though he was still a distance away from you––and you couldn’t see him clearly under his helmet–– from the amount of time you spent learning to love him, you had every inch of his face memorized.

As you felt a soft smile slowly creep on your face, you felt an agonizing tug on your heartstrings, “I just want to see him happy.”

Grace placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it in reassurance, “They’ve been playing well––Mat’s been playing well,” she said with a serious voice, “He’s on a goal scoring and assist streak.”

“I know,” your voice sounded as vacant as the thoughts in your head as you continued to concentrate your stare on Mat warming up.

“You know because I told you,” Grace snorted as she followed your eyesight to the ice, “And now you can know from seeing it yourself.”

Nervously, you took a prolonged sip of your drink and nodded your head.

As players skated back to their bench, and while you should’ve looked toward the flag as the National Anthem was sung, all you did was continue to stare at Mat. He stood in front of Tito, swaying back and forth as he rested an arm on top of his hockey stick. He shook his hair out a few times as he continued his unsanitary habit of biting his glove.

Enchanted by him, you jumped when Grace elbowed your side.

“The Anthem ended,” she smirked, “Everyone is sitting.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to ease the embarrassment floating about in your stomach. While you probably looked foolish continuing to stand, there were other fans in the arena who were on their feet, ready for puck drop. But this was Grace; she knew why you were distracted and still standing.

Grace opened her mouth, but before she could make another remark at your expense, you glared at her, “Not a word.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!”

“I know you––”

“––I wasn’t going to say anything about how that could be what’s waiting for you at his place when they win––”

“Grace.”

“Whatever happens, happens!” She held her hands up in defense with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She then pulled down on your arm for you to sit in your seat, “Let’s watch some hockey.”

The Islanders played the first period well; they played aggressively, skated hard, and set up successful plays. The second period was fine, The Islanders scored two goals, with Mat receiving the sole assist on a goal made by Tito. But the third period…The third period was where the Islanders let their lead slip away. The game was tied up at two and Grace clutched your hand so tight you thought it would fall off.

She squeezed your hand out of nervousness, but she also saw through your lie when you tried to excuse yourself to the bathroom when there was thirteen minutes left in the third period.

“Don’t even think about it,” Grace sneered as she kept her eyes on the ice.

And while she gripped your arm, you anxiously bounced your leg. There were a few times the other team had come close to scoring a goal, but the puck had either bounced off the sidebar or Sorokin had caught it in his glove. But no amount of saves could ease your nerves. You would only know peace at the end of the game.

With two minutes left, and nearly everyone in the arena on their feet, you were still in your seat, not moving an inch. And when the puck was passed to Mat, he skated through two defenders, and it left him with just the goalie. The bile in your stomach churned as you felt the shouts in the arena vibrate through your body.

Grace’s hold on you dropped when she jumped up in her seat to get a better look at the action on the ice.

With your hand now free, and when you saw Mat wind his stick back for a shot, you buried your head in your sweaty hands, holding your breath.

There was a millisecond of silence where you didn’t know what happened. But when you felt the floor shake from people jumping around, screams so loud that they would break a decibel reader, and Grace pull you up by one of your hands into a bone crushing hug, you had a fairly good guess as to what happened.

Even though you were right next to Grace, you had to raise your voice to speak in her ear to make sure she heard you, “He scored?”

Grace pulled back from you, both hands gripping onto your shoulders as she nodded her head, “He scored!”

Her smile was wide, but you would bet all the money in the world that your smile was wider than hers. You broke her eye contact as you tipped your head back to look up at the arena’s screen that showed Mat’s goal on repeat. You saw the goal in slow motion, sped up, and in different angles… but nothing made you happier than seeing Mat jump up into Tito’s arms as the rest of the Islanders on the ice circled up for a hug.

As the entire arena still celebrated Mat’s tie-breaking goal, you stood still as you admired the pure glow of happiness radiating off him. As he high-fived the players on the bench, you saw him yell out a “Let’s go!”

The energy from the packed arena was contagious as the Islanders continued to fight hard for the remaining two minutes. They played smart, not drawing any penalties; played strategic, making sure they cleared the puck if it ever got too close to their net; and best of all, they played with smiles on their faces, savoring the last of their playing time on the ice before the end of their season.

And when the horn sounded, signaling the end of the last game of the Stanley Cup finals, gloves and helmets were thrown in the air as players excitedly skated over to Sorokin. You couldn’t hear them on the ice, but from the camera angle the screen was showing, you could tell they were shouting just as loud as the fans in the stands.

Everyone on the ice blended together, but you were still easily able to pick Mat out from the celebrations. The smile on his face and the gleam in his eyes was unparalleled to anything you had ever seen.

You leaned your head on Grace's shoulder as she wrapped an arm around you, “He’s so happy,” you mostly said to yourself, but Grace picked up on your words.

“Yeah, he’s happy now,” Grace let out a laugh, “but that smile is nothing compared to how he looks at you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to conceal your smile, but there was no use. And you stopped trying to hide your happiness when Mat was interviewed for his game winning goal and said, “I have a few people here that I love a lot, I'm just glad I can share this moment with them.”

As the Stanley Cup was brought out, and team pictures were taken, you and Grace stayed in the crowd to soak up all of the celebrations. But soon enough, with the crowd clearing out, and the islanders leaving the ice to no doubt continue their celebration in the locker room, you and Grace slowly walked up the steps and into the concourse.

Looking up from her phone with a smile on her face, Grace looped an arm around yours, “They’re all having fun in the locker room.”

You tipped your head back in laughter, “I can only imagine.”

“Tito texted me saying they’re going to a bar later to celebrate,” Grace smirked as she pulled you closer into her side, “The same one we went to after the first game you came to with me.”

A nostalgic smile easily made its way onto your face, “Lead the way.”

The car ride to the familiar place was full of laughter and singing along to the radio. The laughter and smiling continued as you walked into the bar. Grace saw her Aunt and Uncle sitting at a table with Mat’s family, so the two of you made your way over to them. Grace caught up with her family and you greeted Mat’s family with hugs. You sat in a free chair toward the back of the table, and so when the first of the Islanders started to trickle in, you had a clear vision of them.

Mat had texted you saying he was on his way with Tito, and you told him you were at a table in the back with his family and Tito’s parents. And only moments later, the bar erupted in boisterous cheers as Mat––the star player with the game winning goal––walked in with Tito. Mat thanked people who clapped his shoulder in congratulations, but when his eyes met yours, a small smile graced his lips as he moved through the crowd.

Mat’s dad was the first one to get up, bringing Mat into a tight hug before he even reached the table. Mat’s teary eyed mom was next to hug him, and his sister was all smiles as she poked fun at him for falling two times on the ice this game. Once you were sure Mat’s family was done congratulating their son, and they were sitting back down in their seats, you stepped around from the table to greet him.

Immediately, Mat’s arm curled around your waist as he brought you into the tightest hug. With your arms around his neck, you scratched his shoulder blades as he pressed a few kisses to the base of your neck. His beard tickled your skin, and while you preferred him with a clean shaven face, his beard was grown out in hopes of a Stanley Cup win… and you couldn’t be happier that the beard served its purpose.

With your arms still locked around his neck, you slightly pulled away, and offered him a blinding smile, “Congratulations.”

Mat chuckled as he dipped his head to give you a quick kiss, “I’m happy you were there.”

You nodded your head, and right as you opened your mouth to say something, Tito was quick to add his opinion, “The bad luck curse of you watching games is finally broken.”

You let out a loud laugh, hearing the humor behind his voice, but Mat whipped his head around to glare at his best friend, “You weren’t supposed to tell her that.”

“She already knew,” From the table, Grace shook her head with laughter, “You should ask to see her conspiracy chart.”

Mat scrunched his eyebrows together as he looked down at you. With a shrug of your shoulders, you playfully smiled at him, “You thought I was bad luck too?”

His eyes widened, “I uh––Well, not exactly––But there was this feeling––And you––”

You kissed his cheek as you took hold of his hand to lead him to the table. Mat pulled a chair up next to you and placed a hand on your thigh as he joined the conversation around the table. You sat next to him with a content smile, occasionally jumping in where appropriate, but you were just happy to be in his presence.

As the night went on, Mat slowly shifted in his chair to face you.

He slightly leaned forward and ran his finger along the 13 patch on your shoulder. He was silent as he traced his index finger over it a few times before looking up at you, “Glad you finally have an Islanders jersey for a game?”

And just like the first time you met at this bar nearly eight months ago, you felt your breath get caught in your throat as he trailed his knuckle down your arm. But unlike the first time, where he only grazed your arm before removing his touch from you, he let his knuckle trail all the way down your arm until he reached the tips of your fingers.

And unlike the first time you met him, instead of wishing he would touch you more, you flipped your hand over so your palm was facing up, and Mat slid his fingers between yours; holding tightly onto your hand.

“I look like a real fan now.”

Mat rolled his eyes as he let out a small laugh. He looked around the table, and when he saw his parents engrossed in a conversation with Tito’s parents, and Grace talking with his sister, Mat leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” Mat whispered as he gently pulled away from the kiss.

And with a smile that mirrored his, your tone of voice held just as much fascination behind it as Mat’s did when he told you those three special words, “I love you too.”

[letsloveimagines]

Title: Crush

Pairing: Corpse Husband x fem!youtuber!reader

Collab with: @the-winter-sxldier-posts

Requested by: @unicornblood4ever

Request: Hi I just saw your request post for Corpse, so if you're still taking requests I have one. The reader have been on a losing streak, and Corpse tries to help. But accidentally rats himself out as the second imposter. With fluff if possible, of course only if you have time to write and everything.

Word Count: 3963

Warnings: a little angts and fluff, i guess?

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

Part II: Here

                                                            ♦⋅☆⋅♦ 

Y/N sat down at her gaming setup, she was getting ready to start a stream she had been invited by her friend Felix (aka Pewdiepie) to play among us with him, and some other friends. She made sure everything was in order before starting it. She had been doing this for so long, but each time it felt like the first, and there was always that little chill in her belly indicating she was nervous.

She got onto her twitter quickly, just to let people know she was live in case they didn't get the notification about it.  As people started coming in, Y/N smiled at the camera. “Hey guys, welcome to the stream.” She read one of the comments from chat asking what she was gonna be playing on stream today.  “Today we are streaming some “Among Us’ with some friends, and I am getting to who they are before you guys spam it in chat. I’m going to be playing with Corpse, Sykkuno, Rae, Felix, Seán, Lily, Toast, Poki and Leslie.” 

She joined the discord call, as the game loaded up. Y/N had her facecam in the middle on the bottom screen to make sure that she wouldn’t leak the code, once Felix sent it to the discord. Once the code was entered they were in the lobby and Y/N, went to the little mini computer in the game to customize her astronaut, and as always she was quick to pick the white colored one with the pink flower on her helmet. “Hey guys.” Y/N said to her friends in discord with a smile. Felix was the first to speak “Y/N finally you’re here!” She and everyone else laughed as he kept talking, excitedly. “We are still waiting for Corpse and Seán to join before we start, they’ll be here in a minute.” Everyone had said their hellos to Y/N as Seán joined the discord call and the game, followed shortly by Corpse. “Hey, Seán, Corpse.” “Hey, Y/N.” “Whaddup baby.” They both said at the same time making everyone laugh once more, as they all had their characters customized. Y/N’s face turned a few shades of red at what Corpse had said, and her chat was quick to pick up on it. “That is everyone, we are starting the game now.” She muted her mic after Felix had started the game and the black screen with the red astronaut, said shhhhh. Then her screen read ‘Crewmate, there are 2 imposters among us.’ 

She blew out a breath talking to the chat. “At least we can warm up as a crewmate this round.” 

But…

It didn't take much longer for her to get killed, which made her swear. She knew she couldn't trust Felix but she did anyway, and he literally stabbed her in the back… What a traitor. 

                                                             ♦⋅☆⋅♦

The time passed faster than it should have, or at least that’s what it seemed to the group of friends who were just having fun. 

Y/N had now been streaming for an hour, and she was on a major losing streak. She either got crewmate, or voted out first as imposter because she was a bad liar. Or when that didn't happen, she was one of the first ones to be killed, and had to spend the entire game floating from one side of the ship to the other as a little white ghost, completing tasks for her team to win. To be honest, she was already a little irritated about that. They were now in the lobby talking to each other while waiting to start the next game. Y/N's nostrils were flared with frustration after another round of failure at being an imposter. She sighed, unmuting her mic."I just wanted to say that in all of these rounds I must have played a full 8 seconds! Like come on, what's wrong with me today!?" 

That phrase was enough to make the others burst out laughing, including her chat. The comments came and went so fast, sliding on the screen on her right side, that she could barely keep up. 

Sykkuno, like the blessed and pure angel he was, replied amid laughter: "Don't worry, you're just on a bad streak. Better luck next time."

"Yeah, I guess." She answered while moving her mini white astronaut in circles, being quickly accompanied by the black astronaut with horns on his helmet. Y/N smiled at that.

"Stop talking guys, I'll start the new round now." Pewds, who was the host, almost screamed at them. 

Y/N cracked her neck and her fingers preparing herself.

"Stay with me this time Y/N, and I'll protect you." A deep voice was heard through her headphones, causing a shiver to go all the way down her spine. 

"Oh!" She exclaimed surprised, looking at her chat that was going insane with everyone saying how cute that was. "Thank you, Corpse, let's do that."

"No problem." She could hear the smile in his voice. 

The game was started and the black screen with the red astronaut, said shhhhh. Then her screen read IMPOSTER.

Y/N quickly muted her mic, as soon as she stopped listening to her friends speak. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that." She commented to her chat, very surprised, because next to her doll was Corpse's own little character. "Well, maybe my luck is changing. Everyone heard that Corpse and I were going to be together, so at least now we have an alibi if anyone suspects us." Corpse danced around Y/N, suggesting she follow him, and immediately she did. They both went through the ship as he was looking for innocent astronauts for them to murder. They ended up in medbay first, where Y/N faked her samples task, with Corpse watching over her and making sure that no one would find their behavior suspicious. 

And, oh, how her luck seemed to have increased when Felix walked in. Y/N immediately pulled up the sabotage map and locked the medbay doors, and Corpse was quick to kill him. That made the girl laugh hard, yelling out loud. "That was just karma having its way!" 

Then both vented out as the doors were still locked. 

Y/N smiled talking to the chat. “Pewds is dead, next if the opportunity arises we need to get Seán. They are the two that always sus me out even when I’m a crewmate.” She went back to the game as they vented into electrical, since nobody was there presently. They both faked tasks in electrical, Y/N going first with Corpse watching her back. To her surprise, Seán walked in all alone and right as she was going to get her first kill, when Felix’s body was reported. She rolled her eyes. “Damn, so close to getting them both.” She said to her fans as she unmuted the mic, and saw that Rae was the one that found Pewds. 

“Where is the body?” Y/N questioned trying to keep her voice level and calm, to not give herself away. “Pewds is dead in medbay.” Was the answer she got from the other girl. “Y/N and I were in Electrical with Seán.” Corpse said, trying to immediately shift suspicion off of the two of them. “They were already there when I entered the room, however. I don't know where they came from before, though." 

"We came in through storage, after Y/N and I both did the trash chute, Y/N stopped at the gas can and then we came to the electrical to do our tasks." 

Y/N quickly muted herself. "God, Corpse is gonna carry us this round, I can already feel it…I just want one kill and that is Seán, Corpse can kill everyone else... I just want to kill Seán!" She unmuted again as the friends decided that they didn't have enough information to vote anyone, so they skipped and no one was ejected. 

Corpse danced around again for Y/N to follow him and she did. This time they went through weapons. Y/N faked the task against the wall while Corpse faked one as well. Y/N brought up the sabotage map while they waited on the kill cool down to end. 

Y/N  sabotaged the lights, and the two imposters ran over there to turn them on as a way not to give anything that made them suspicious.

"Kill someone, don't wait for Corpse." Y/N read the comments, confused. "I don't know guys, are you sure? Today I haven't won any games as an imposter, so I don't want to give any reasons to make my team lose.” Looking back at the screen of the computer, she smiled seeing that the two little astronauts were touching each other, eye to eye, in what would probably be a strange little kiss. "Awww guys, look! Corpse just kissed me, this is too cute to handle."

But there was something that the fans did not fail to notice, and were quick to tell her that.

                                           User: She's blushing!

                                     User: This is so cute, I'm dying.

                             User: UGH, I ship them together so much!

"Oh, shut up y’all." She said with her face on fire, clearing her throat trying to make her voice normal again. However, the pink tone that painted her cheeks did not want to disappear, getting worse and worse as she thought about it. “Okay, as much as I don't like it, I'm going to do what you said. I’m sorry, Corpse." And then she quickly ran away, going to another path separated from Corpse, looking for someone alone that she could kill.

Hopefully it would be Seán.Y/n would be the first to agree that she was a little obsessed with getting her revenge. But could you blame her? Seán and Felix were almost always the reason she got voted out or killed first.

She went around the map, and on the navigation she found Lily alone. "Oh oh, poor Lily, but I need to do this." She was quick to press the button, kill and enter the vent, leaving Lily's body cut in half behind.

"Quickly, I need to find someone to be my alibi! Where's Corpse?" She came out of a different vent, running and seeing Rae nearby, quickly joining her. It didn't take long before someone reported the body. "Oh no, I'm sweating already."

“Lily’s body was in navigation.” Leslie said.

“And Toast is dead too, so it was a double kill this round.”

"Where have you been, Leslie?" Corpse asked with such a deep and calm voice that if Y/N were not the other imposter, she would think he was innocent. “I was with Sykkuno in security, looking at the cameras.”

“Yes, I was with him.” The mentioned boy said.

“Well, I was with Poki in medbay but I needed to do the asteroids in weapons. So, when I finished in weapons  I went down, and found the body." Leslie replied.

"That seems a little sus to me, to be honest."

"Yeah, seems pretty sus to me too." Y/N repeated after Corpse, trying to help.

"Okay, wait a minute." Rae began, suspiciously. "I was with Y/N for a while because we met in storage, but she came from the right side of the map, I saw it."

"Explain yourself, Y/N."

'Oh no. Busted.' Thought the girl nervously looking at the camera. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and replied as calmly as she could: "Well, yes it's true, but I was in comms uploading. When I finished I left and that's when I found Rae in storage."

"It's her!" Seán accused.

"Definitely."

"What!?" Y/N asked shocked. "No, I'm not the imposter guys, I swear!"

"Y/N, stop, it makes perfect sense. I'm voting." She rolled her eyes, that is exactly why she wanted to kill Seán. 

It was then that Corpse interrupted: "It couldn't have been her, she was with me."

'What?' Y/N asked herself, 'No, I wasn’t. What is he doing?'

"But... You said you were with Sykkuno."

"I... Yeah, but before that I was with her in Comms, but I left to go to the Security."

"And what path did you take?" Rae questioned.

"I went through storage, then electrical and I went up."

"That’s impossible because I went down the left side, and went through electrical and I didn't see you."

"They’re both the imposters, oh my god." Was Seáns revelation. 

"No, we are not. What he said is true!" Y/N tried to defend. 

"I'm going to vote Corpse this time just for his audacity!" Rae exclaimed excitedly. "Then we vote for Y/N!"

"What!?" Corpse said shocked. "No...!"

But it was too late, and quickly his little bean body flew off the ship. ‘Corpse was ejected.’

The girl could do nothing more than gawk at the computer screen, still shocked by what had happened. "No!" She said when she muted the microphone. "The game is already lost. What can I do?" She questioned, guilty.

                                           User: Noooo! Poor Corpse.

                                          User: He was defending her :(

                              User: It's her fault that they found out he was the other imposter.

Guilt weighed on Y/N's heart and she felt saddened. Why did she have to ruin everything? "I know, I'll apologize to him when I can." She whispered to the chat, quietly, running around with her character confusedly. "What do I do now? Do I kill someone or do I play innocent?"

But at that time a meeting was called by Seán who was camped by the emergency button, and everyone got together to speak.

"Yes?"

"Well, we already know who the other imposter is. Are we going to vote her out or not?" He said laughing.

"Guys, please don't, it’s not me."

"Sorry Y/N, but you're the only one sus right now."

"What about Leslie?” Y/N tried. “She left Poki in medbay, she could have gone to navigation, killed Lily, self-reported and said she was in weapons!"

"No, don't believe her!" Leslie shouted. “She’s lying.”

"I know it's Y/N, I'm going to vote for her!"

And one by one everyone voted, and the game was over.

"Good job guys, we did it." The others celebrated while the girl almost pouted.

"What happened, Corpse? I’ve never seen you like that, well, playing so badly I mean." Sykkuno questioned his friend timidly.

There was silence from Corpse for a moment, before he simply said. "I don’t know.”

Swallowing hard, Y/N spoke softly. "Corpse?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Ehh, don't be. That's alright."

But that was not enough to erase her guilt. "You know Seán this is exactly why I was gonna kill you in the electrical, before Rae found Felix's body. You always sus me out even when I’m  innocent." 

“But you were the imposter this time!”

After a new game where she quickly died (Seán was the one who broke her neck and left her body in admin), the girl was quick to open Discord and send a message to the deep-voiced boy, who as much - as she didn't want to admit it, even more to herself - was her crush.

                                                           Y/N:     I’m so sorry I got you voted out, honestly, I feel so bad about it. I’m such a bad imposter.

                                                       CORPSE:             Y/N, It’s fine, really. There’s no need for you to feel bad about it ♥.

This put a smile on the girl's face again, and her chat was quick to question what was going on. She shrugged her shoulders and gave no further answer, Y/N returned to concentrating on the game, with the corner of her lips lifted in a half smile that she couldn’t control.

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦

Time quickly passed full of fun for the ten friends, and the thousands of people who watched them. Y/N didn't win any of the rounds, but she didn't care about it anymore. After another hour  of playing she decided to say goodbye and finish the stream, feeling the tiredness dominating her. She ate something and took a long and relaxing bath, which eased her aching muscles, and was already in her fluffy blue pajama pants, and was getting ready to go to bed when her phone rang.

Picking it up from the nightstand, she looked at the screen and gasped in surprise seeing who was facetiming her. A shiver ran down her spine. Shaking from head to toe, with her heart pounding, she quickly ran her hand through her hair making sure she was at least minimally presentable, before she answered it, saying nervously, "Hey, Corpse, is everything okay?"

The screen came to life, with her tiny image in the corner and the completely black screen dominating it. Of course he wouldn't turn on the camera, nor did she want him to do it if he didn't feel comfortable. It was already surprising that he actually called, since he has never done that before, and that was what made her even more nervous.

"I just wanted to check on you."  His voice came through the phone. 

That made her face heat up a little. She was thankful that the only light she had on was the lamp on her nightstand and he couldn’t see how red her face got. 

"Cute pajamas by the way." He said while laughing a little bit, provoking her.  

"Well, I would say the same thing, but I can't see anything."  Y/N provoked back.

There was a comfortable silence after that, a silence that the two of them seemed afraid to try to break. The girl laid down on her bed, curled up under her warm sheets, and looked at the black screen kindly, with her head resting on the pillow.

"So-"

"I-" They both said at the same time, and immediately stopped talking when they realized that. “Go ahead-” “You first-”  they once again said at the exact same time. 

Y/N tried to speak. She really tried. She was so prepared to tell him the truth, to tell him how much she was into him, that she was in fact in love with him… She was prepared to say that meeting him, and having him in her life for the past few months was one of the best things that ever happened to her. Y/N was determined to speak, but when she tried, nothing came out.  She stood there, opening and closing her mouth, sighing with a frown on her face. 

"What's up?" Corpse asked seeing that, with concern in his voice.

"Nothing."

"Y/N, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know that." And she really did, Corpse was a good friend, an excellent friend who was always there for her... And that was exactly what she was afraid to ruin with her confession. "You are able to make me so nervous sometimes, even when I think I'm feeling brave."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, and she could practically see his smile, even though she has never actually seen it. She was in love with a faceless man and she had no idea how to tell him that. 

"Oh, shut up."

He laughed deeply for a long time, and that was enough to make her smile. Finally he stopped and said quietly, almost timidly. "I think what you wanted to say is exactly what I want to tell you."

Impossible, Y/N thought with a sad smile on her lips. I want to tell you how much I love you but… how could I? And who could ever love me?

"No, believe me, it isn't." “And how do you know it isn’t?” Y/N bit her lip a little unsure of how to answer him without revealing her feelings for him. “I-” But she cuts herself off, not having the courage to actually say the words. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the groan that came out of her mouth, at how much a coward she was being, but she mumbled out her response that was still muffled. “I just know.”

“What was that?” All he had heard were incoherent sounds.. She sighed, removing her face from the pillow not wanting to repeat what she had said, to save herself the rejection, since he couldn’t possibly feel the same way that she did about him.

“Are you really not going to tell me?” His voice broke through her thoughts. She sighed, trying to get away from the internal battle going on in her mind. “Y/N?” He spoke once again, breaking her out of her thoughts. 

“If I say it... everything is gonna be ruined and weird for us, and I don’t want that. Your friendship is so important to me, you're my best friend.” She ran a hand down her face, furious with herself. “How do you know that, if you don’t say it?” 

“Because I just do, okay?” Why couldn't he just let it go? "I-" She tried to say it out loud, once more. C'mon Y/N, just say it. "I gotta go!" She said quickly tried to end the call, but he wouldn't let her.

"No!" He screamed out sharply, taking her by surprise and then he did something she never thought he would do.

The screen, which was previously completely dark, lit up and his face finally appeared for the girl who loved him to see. Y/N sighed in shock, admiring all his features, from his ivory-white skin to his dark curly hair.

"I have a crush on you too." He confessed quietly, with a soft pink tinge appearing on his cheeks.

Did he just...? Oh my god!  

There was silence again, but this time it was a silence that had become tense and terrifying for both of them. Corpse was nervous waiting for her to say something, and she could tell. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, he didn't seem able to face her as his gaze traveled anywhere but to her, and he fidgeted immensely, touching everything within reach from the rings - that she saw he had on his fingers - to the chain necklace he had around his neck.

"Oh." She sighed softly, not knowing what to say.

He looked at her then, apprehensive and almost ashamed. "Ugly, I know."

"No!" Y/N was quick to interrupt. "You are incredibly handsome just… just as I always imagined." The girl managed to see a small smile appear on his lips as he blushed deeply.

"I..." 

"I’m in love with you too." She confessed, finally without fear. It felt like weight lifted off her to finally get it out in the open between the two of them.

Corpse’s eyes went wide, completely shocked but so, so happy. A huge smile full of shiny teeth on his face, as he focused all of his attention on Y/N. "You are?"

"Yes." She said blushing and smiling intensely as she snuggled up in the blankets, her face almost hidden when she looked at him dreamily.

"I-" He cleared his throat. "Good."

"Good."

"Great."

"Great!"

They burst out laughing, their voices mixing in hamornia. The two looked each other in the eye, separated by a mobile phone screen, separated by kilometers and kilometers... but even with everything that separated them, the world was not able to stop them from falling in love with each other.

"What do we do now?" He questioned.

"Well..." Y/N started. "We'll have to see, won't we? Why don't you start by giving me your address?"

Corpse smiled provocatively, his beautiful eyes shining maliciously. "Of course... But be careful now baby, the devil’s got his eyes on you."

Y/N laughed completely in love.

"Oh, shut up."

                                                            ♦⋅☆⋅♦ Tag List: @breathygasps

[troubatrain]

i’d lie - m. tkachuk

a/n: this was the very first like super long fic i’d written for my own blog and tbh i still love it so i hope you guys do too :)

September 2019

The first time you met Matthew Tkachuk, you were running back to your apartment, mountain of textbooks in your hand. You’d run into a firm chest while trying to text your roommates back about dinner plans, your books knocking all over the floor. You apologized profusely, feeling awful for running into someone because you couldn’t get your head out of your phone. The stranger, who later introduced himself as Matthew, assured you it was fine and helped you pick up your books. You introduced yourself to him, thanking him for the help and making a light joke about how you weren’t paying attention. The two of you went your separate ways, but your mind wandered about the blue eyed stranger you’d run into that day.

The second time was definitely just a coincidence, and you were sure of that. You were grabbing a quick coffee before class, something you were in dire need of after your roommates came home well past midnight from a night out while you decided to stay in and study. You were waiting for your drink when you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around and meet Matthew’s eyes, laughing about how’d you run into each other just a couple of days later. The two of you made small talk, you explaining that you were just headed to class and him explaining he was grabbing an after practice coffee. When you asked him what sport he played, he looked at you in shock and laughed, explaining that he played for the Flames, you reluctantly admitted that you didn’t follow hockey much anymore, being just too busy. Your conversation ended quickly when you realized you had to run to class, telling Matthew you’d see him around even though you were sure you probably never would.

The third time was starting to feel like the universe was telling you something. You’d gone out with your roommates, celebrating a successful end to the fall semester. You were going to grab another drink when you felt someone grab your arm, when you turned around, ready to tell this guy to lay off, you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Matthew cracked a joke about how you’d seen him more times in the past week or so than his family and offered to buy you a drink. You took it, standing at the bar and talking to him for the rest of the night. You talked about school, your major, and your roommates. He told you about playing for the Flames, and how much he loved being in Calgary. When his teammates walked over to the two of you, chirping Matthew about talking to you, and when you roasted his teammate right back, Matthew told you that he was positive he was going to have a new best friend.

Matthew wasn’t kidding, finally getting your number at the bar that night and never leaving you since. It was slow, he started by inviting you out with his teammates after games, the boys becoming a permanent part of your life. Then you went to your first Flames game, in which Matthew scored twice and made you promise to never miss a home game after. After that, you were complaining about how loud your roommates could be when you really needed to get some work done, so Matthew gave you a key to his place so you could go there even if he was away. Matthew would send take out to your apartment if you’d had a particularly bad day or you would go over to his and cook for the both of you. He’d been there to help you study for finals, even though he didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about. You’d been there when the Flames got knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, holding Matthew while he ranted and raved about the game and how badly he wished they’d won. You went out to dinner with his parents when they came to town, you’d even made a trip to St. Louis over the summer. From an outsider’s perspective, and from the perspective of every person in your life, it seemed like you two were dating, but you felt like that ship had sailed and if it was going to happen it would’ve already.

You shake the memories of your friendship with Matthew out of your head as you turn the key to his apartment, sneaking in with the obnoxious decorations you’d bought. Yesterday, Matthew called you to let you know his contract was almost done and that he’d be back to Calgary for training camp the next day. You were excited, the contract debacle taking up more stress in your life than you’d liked. You’d sent the stuff down on his kitchen island, tying the red balloons you’d bought to one of the chairs and setting out the cake you’d bought that just says, “Congrats on getting PAID.” You hear the door creak open, and Matthew set his bag down by the door.

“Oh this is something,” Matthew chuckles, laughing at the small celebration you’d put together.

“Thought I’d welcome you back,” You laugh as he runs over to pull you into a hug.

“I really don’t deserve you,” He says, “Is that cake?”

“It is,” You smile, walking into the kitchen and pulling the groceries you’d bought to cook the both of you some dinner, “and dinner.”

“I really really don’t deserve you,” Matthew repeats, always appreciative of things you did to take care of him. Not that you minded it at all, the access to the quiet of Matthew’s apartment was enough to justify a few dinners, let alone when the two of you went out and Matthew insisted on paying the bill. While you never felt like you owed him anything, it definitely made you feel less guilty when you were doing something for him - even if it is just stopping him from eating out every night.

“You don’t, I know,” You joke, hip bumping him out of your way so you could grab a cutting board from his cabinet.

Matthew was over to the seats on the island, sitting in the one you’d decorated, “You’re going to be at our first home game right?”

“Of course, I planned my entire day around it,” You admit, knowing you’d made a silly promise to Matthew that you’d never miss a home game, “Why? Worried you’re going to bomb without me there?”

“I mean, yeah. I just-” Matthew starts, sighing, “After waiting for this deal and stuff I don’t want anyone to think it was a mistake.”

You didn’t realize your joke had actually struck a nerve. When you first became friends you didn’t think Matthew doubted his play or himself ever. He had a blind confidence, and he never let a mistake take over his whole game. It was something you actually admired, wondering if you could ever be that confident in yourself. But, when the Flames lost in the first round of the playoffs, and you’d gone to his place after the game, Matthew turned into a sad shell of a man in front of your eyes. That night you realized how much actually got to him, and while he listed off the mistakes he made in the series you’re heart broke with every word he said. The Canadian media wasn’t always easy, and it really bothered Matthew more than you think he even knew.

You turn around from the stove, “There’s not one person who doesn’t think you deserve your contract, and if they don’t I’ll personally tell them to fuck off.”

Matthew laughs, and your heart skips a beat, “I think I can do without you trying to fight anyone.” “Why? I’m absolutely terrifying,” You joke, your small frame wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

“You know what? You’re right,” Matthew says sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” You start walking around the island to wrap your arms around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’ll always be proud of you.” Matthew tucks his head into your arms muttering a low thank you. The two of you spent the night together, catching up on your summers over the dinner you made. He told you about the trips he’d gone on, and his summer antics. You’d gone on about the vacation’s you’d gone on, and the time you spent with your family.

October 2019

You walked arm and arm with Brittney, Sean’s girlfriend, into the Saddledome for the Flames home opener. It was Saturday night, and you knew with the Kings coming to town on Tuesday the boys would definitely be celebrating their first win of the season if they came out on top tonight. You were excited, hoping they’d be able turn it around before it became a losing streak. You head up to your usual seats, walking into the family boxes with Brittany, all of the team’s significant others and families out for the first home game of the season. After finally grabbing a drink and sitting down you look down at the nice, spotting Matthew’s mop of hair buzzing around the ice.

“So anything change over the summer?” Brittany asks when she sees you looking at Matthew on the ice, a curious look on her face.

“Still best friends,” You say, shaking your head at her comment. You’d heard it a million times, about how Matthew needed to have you at his games, sitting with the rest of the team’s families or how you were always at his place or vice-versa but you assured everyone who asked that you were just friends - because you were.

“Okay but you can be best friends and date, you guys know that right?” Brittany says, trying to make you see it from her point of view.

“Britt, I really mean it, we’re just friends,” You shrug, not really in the mood to continue defending yourself. You ignore the knowing look she gives you, already knowing that her usual comeback would be asking you why you’re getting so defensive.

By the time the third period rolled around, the Flames were up 3-0 and you were sure this was going to end as a win. When the period was finally over, you headed down to the locker with Brittany to wait for Matthew to head out. 

He barreled out of the locker room, scanning the room to find you, running over and hugging you tightly, “We wonnn.”

You knew he was running on an adrenaline rush that he only ever got out of winning, “You did, are we going out tonight?”

“We are Y/N, Chucky can stay home,” You hear Sam Bennett’s voice behind you.

“Sam, what makes you assume I want to spend time with you?” You quip back before Matthew even has a chance to defend himself.

“You guys are really meant to be, you’re both cold as hell,” Sam says, shaking his head at the two of you.

You ignore Sam’s comment, turning to Matthew, “Ready to go?”

Matthew nods, leading the way to his car in the parking garage at the arena. You both slide in, you immediately grab his phone to change the music.

“You know it’s my car,” He says, already knowing you controlled the music in every car ride you took, despite who was driving.

“You know I don’t care,” You say back immediately, “Do you want to drop off your car?”

“No, you drink, I’ll just have a beer,” Matthew says, never wanting to let himself get too drunk if you were going to, afraid something might happen to you.

“But you guys won-” You start to protest only to be immediately cut off.

“But you had class all week, and don’t think I didn’t hear you stress crying after I went to bed the other night,” Matthew says, immediately shutting you up. You had a long week, and the idea of getting to go out with the safety net of Matthew taking care of you didn’t sound terrible.

“Fine, you win,” You say as you pull up to the bar you were meeting the rest of the team at. You walked in, immediately spotting Brittany and Sean from afar, walking over them wrapping Brittany in a hug.

“I’m really happy you guys are all back in town,” You say, still a little tipsy from the drinking you’d done at the game.

“Happy to see all of us, or just Chucky,” Sean says, giving you a look.

“Enough with that,” You snap, already having heard it from his girlfriend.

“Enough with what?” Matthew says, stepping behind you placing a drink in your hand.

“Nothing, Sean’s being a moron,” You say, leaning into his chest when he places a protective arm across your chest.

The rest of the night was an eventful one to say the least. You’d danced with the girls, Sam made you take more shots than a person should, and it was safe to say you were drunk to say the least. You finally walk back over to the table that Matthew was sitting at, talking to Noah.

“Matty, can you grab me another drink?” You ask, trying to convince him so you didn’t have to. You knew it wouldn’t take much and he nods and takes your empty glass without a second thought. 

Once Matthew was out of earshot, Noah turns to you, “You’ve really got him wrapped your finger.”

“Noah -” You start to defend yourself again.

“Don’t Noah me,” Noah immediately cuts you off, “Admit it, you have to see what everyone else sees.”

“You know what? I do and yes, it confuses the shit out of me but Noah, I like Matthew, a lot, but I don’t think he feels the same way about me,” Your drunken confession slips, your hand immediately covering your mouth that you actually admitted it.

Noah looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh my god, I was right?”

You start to give him a lecture about prying into your business before he cuts you off, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, “Thanks Noah.”

Matthew comes back and hands you a water despite you asking him for another drink, you roll your eyes, knowing he’s just decided to cut you off before you got messy.

“Ready to go?” You ask, sipping the water.

“Whenever you are, are you going home or staying by me?” Matthew asks and you notice Noah shaking his head at the two of you.

“Home, I need to spend my Sunday studying,” You say, leaning back into Matthew from the barstool you were sitting on.

Matthew nods, grabbing your hand and walking you back out to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. The drive back to your place was short, and you wished it was longer, admiring how the streetlights made Matthew look incredibly handsome. You knew the small crush that you’d been haboring since you met him only made it’s special guest appearance after you’d been drinking, and you were going to let it take over even just for the night. When Matthew stops in front of your building, he tosses his car into park so he can walk you to your door, even though you always insist nothing awful will probably happen to you between then and the minute elevator ride up to your floor. 

When you step in front of your door you wrap your arms around Matthew’s waist, tucking your head into his chest, “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

You feel him place a small kiss on your head, something he did often, “Anytime, get some sleep okay?”

You nod, “Text me when you’re home Matthew,” You say, using his full name to make yourself sound more serious. He laughs and heads back to the elevator while you walk into your apartment, walking into your bedroom and slipping one of Matthew’s old London Knights shirts on, passing out immediately.

November 2019

With November came an enormous amount of stress, the Flames weren’t playing up to their usual standards, losing five games on the road. Matthew was grouchy to say the least, you were always trying to cheer him up but there was only so much you could do while he was gone. You weren’t in the best mood either, the stress from school starting to build up. You’d spent more nights crying from stress in the comfort of Matthew’s empty apartment more than you’d admit to anyone, never quite feeling like you could catch up with all of your work. Which is why you were sitting on Matthew’s couch, head in your hands while you tried to finish the paper you had due at midnight when you hear him finally come home from his road trip, dropping his bag at the door with a bang, causing you to jump.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Matthew says, in a harsher tone he usually used. You could tell the losing streak was starting to get to him, his shoulders were tight, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

“Do you not want me to be?” You say, while Matthew never complained when you were at his place, you did understand if he wanted to be alone.

“No you’re fine,” He says, “Are you going to come to my game tomorrow?” Your heart sunk, you wanted to, but you couldn’t justify spending a night at the Saddledome watching him play when you had so much work to finish before the chaos of finals started. You look at his sad eyes, afraid you might upset him if you said no.

“Matty, I have so much work I have to do, I don’t think I can,” You say, closing your eyes as if that would lessen the blow, you open one, seeing Matthew’s face crushed in front of you.

“It’s fine,” He says, the words not sounding like anything was okay at all, “We’ll just lose - again.”

“Don’t put that on me,” You defend, not wanting to feel guiltier than you are, “You miss shit in my life all the time because you’re gone.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said it. It didn’t matter if Matthew was there or not, anything important in your life, he made sure you knew he was proud of you. If it wasn’t a flood of texts, it was a bouquet of flowers to your door. He made sure you never felt like he forgot about you while he was gone, and you knew you were just acting out.

You hear Matthew sigh, a sign he was trying to keep his temper in check, “Maybe you should just go.” “I will,” You say, gathering your things and heading towards the door, turning back to him one more time, “For the record, you’ll be fine whether or not I’m there or not.”

--

You didn’t sleep that night - at all. Your mind replayed that stupid little argument you had gotten into with Matthew. You’d never actually fought with him, sure you bickered, but as soon as you’d call him out on his shit, he would let it go and that would be it. He looked so hurt by your words, and you knew you owed him an apology. You tried calling, texting, you even sent him an email, but he was ignoring you and you knew it. 

You lay on your bed, typing a paper for one of your classes while watching the Flames game, the Flames down against the Avs 3-2. You watched as Matthew got sent to the box, for the third time that evening, finally breaking his stick when he sat down. You knew he was frustrated, and you couldn’t help but feel like you might have had something to do with it. You turn the game off with five minutes left, not wanting to see Matthew’s face after they lost their sixth game in a row. You finally finish your paper, setting your laptop down and getting ready for bed. You slip into bed, ready to finally try and get some sleep when you hear Matthew’s voice from your living room, your roommate telling him that you were in bed. 

He opens your bedroom door, poking his head through, “Can I come in?”

You nod, watching as he steps into your room, still in his gameday suit. He lays down, immediately putting his head into your lap, while your hands move to play with his curls.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to break the silence in your room.

“You don’t need to be,” He says, “You were right - you always are.”

“Not always,” You smile, watching as his eyes close under your touch, “Do you want to stay here? We can watch a movie - whatever you want.” Matthew smiles and you knew you’d said the right thing, knowing that after a bad game it’s better to distract him until he finally opens up, “Can I have sweats?”

“Open my top drawer,” You say, “It’s mostly your clothes anyways.”

Matthew laughs, opening the dresser and realizing how many pairs of sweatpants and hoodies you’d actually stolen from him. It wasn’t your fault he has the comfiest hoodies known to man, and that he always offered them to you when it got cold. He steps into your bathroom to change, coming back out and climbing into your bed, pulling you closer to him so you could snuggle into his chest, grabbing your remote and throwing on a movie on Netlifx.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere halfway through the movie you finally knocked out for the first time in two days, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms. The two of you blocking out the noise from the outside world.

December 2019

With December comes the craziness of finals, but you weren’t about to let it stop you from celebrating Matthew’s birthday in the most ridiculous way you could think of. You’d set up a full on surprise party, using Noah as your partner in crime. The Flames were lucky enough to have a Sunday off, allowing you to have Noah keep Matthew out of his apartment all day so you could decorate. You went all out with decorations and invited everyone you knew was important to him - even having some of his friends from St. Louis fly up for the occasion. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for someone you’re not even dating,” You hear Brittany say, handing you the other half of the Happy Birthday banner you’d bought. 

“He literally flew me out to St. Louis over the summer for my birthday,” You say, “I think the least I could do is throw a party.”

Brittany shakes her head at you, distracted by Sean carrying in drinks before she could make a comment about how you spent your birthday with Matthew and his family. You greeted all of the guests as they arrived, waiting for Noah’s text that him and Matthew were on their way. Once you got the text, you had everyone hide out, shutting off all of the lights. You hear them come up the hallway, opening the door to Matthew’s place. You all jump out and yell surprise, promptly scaring the birthday boy. He smiles at you, knowing you were the only person who wanted to make a big deal out his birthday in the first place.

“Thank you,” He says, stepping over to you after he greets everyone at the party.

“How did you know it was me?” You joke, “It could’ve been Sam.”

“Because when I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, you proceeded to tell me that’s fine,” Matthew says, “and I know you were lying.”

You laugh, he was always able to tell whether or not you were lying from your body language alone. It made it easier to just tell him how you were feeling, even if you didn’t want to.

The party was dwindling down by the time you saw Matthew again, his body swaying indicating that he was definitely drunk. You laugh, getting the last groups of guests to head out so you could clean up and get Matthew to bed.

Once you shut the door, pushing Sam and Noah out while they made jokes about you and Matthew walking down the hallway, you turn around to see Matthew grabbing himself a water.

“Alright birthday boy, let’s get you to bed,” you say, trying to move his much larger frame into his bedroom. You’d only ever had to do it once before, a night out after the Flames clinched their playoff spot last season that ended in Matthew puking outside of the bar, and you were sore from trying to haul him to bed.

“Will you stay?” He says when you finally get him to sit on his bed.

“I mean, I planned on it,” you say, gesturing to your bag that was in it’s usual spot in his guest room.

“No in here,” He argues back, crossing his arms like a child. You knew you shouldn’t give in, and you knew climbing into bed with him was only going to make that small crush worse, the crush already growing from the last time you’d slept in the same bed as him. 

You sigh, walking over to his dresser to grab him some clothes, tossing them over to him, “I’m just going to go change.”

You walk across the hall to his guest room, slipping out of the jeans you’d been wearing and throwing on a pair of shorts and one of Matthew’s t-shirts. You tossed your hair in a bun, opening the door to Matthew’s room, seeing him in bed waiting for you. You smile, sliding into bed and cuddling yourself into Matthew’s chest as soon as you laid down.

“Thank you for the party,” Matthew whispers, hands twirling the ends of your hair.

“I told you, it wasn’t me,” You joke, finally letting sleep take over you.

January 2020

When Matthew got voted into the All Star Game, you made sure to tell him an obnoxious amount of time. You also insisted on blaring “All Star” by Smash Mouth in his apartment for an entire week before he told you he was going to take his spare key back if you didn’t stop. What you didn’t expect, was for him to insist you at least came for the actual weekend of the game. But once you found out that Brady was also playing in the game, you decided you should probably make the trip down.

You arrived Friday morning, Matthew making some time in the craziness of the weekend to pick you up from the airport, having you stay with him at his parent’s house. You arrive in the mass chaos of the Tkachuk household, his mom scrambling to get everything ready for the party they planned on having after the game on Saturday. You set your bag down, immediately running into the kitchen to see Brady and Taryn.

“Matt, you can leave now,” Brady says, wrapping you in a tight hug, “We’d much rather have Y/N here.” You laugh, missing the dynamic of seeing Matthew around his family. He was always more relaxed when he was with his family, even though he’d never admit that he actually did miss them during the season.

“Brady she’s my best friend,” Matthew says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest.

“To be fair, I like Taryn more than both of you,” You mutter between the bickering boys.

You spend your Friday running around with Matthew’s mom, helping her with the party as much as you could. You enjoyed your time with her, knowing that it made Matthew happy to see how much his parents like having you around. Friday and Saturday seem like a blur, the craziness of the All Star Game taking over. You spent most of the time with Taryn and the rest of Matthew’s family that came to town, many of whom you’d met the last time the Sens came into town. You finally arrive back at the Tkachuk’s Matthew riding the high from winning the actual game.

Once the party was in full swing you were dragged around the house by Matthew, introducing you to players he’s played with in the past. You had a long conversation with Mitch Marner, who you found out Matthew actually played with when he played for the London Knights. You spent the night of some of the best athletes in the world and you couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew kept you around when he kept company like his friends who played around the league.

You step in Matthew’s bedroom, trying to take a moment for yourself. You look in the mirror, and sigh, just not sure of why you were there in the first place. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while the thoughts of not being good enough found themselves creeping in your mind. You couldn’t help it, as your hands started to shake, you heard the door open and Matthew step into his room.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Why are you friends with me?” You ask harshly.

“What’s this about Y/N?” He asks, confused at your tone.

“I mean, you just, all of the people in your life are these accomplished athletes and are insanely good at what they do, and for some reason you choose to spend all of your time with someone who cries every time they get too stressed out,” You rant out, worried about how Matthew would react to what you were saying. You’d never let him in on this part of you, the part that’s doubtful and scared that one mistake could ruin everything you’ve ever worked for.

You feel Matthew grab your hand, pulling you down to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen, “I don’t want to spend my time with anyone besides you, please don’t ever think differently. You’re funny and smart and you care about every person in your life even if they don’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel like this ever.” You smile, trying to hide the butterflies you feel in your stomach when Matthew’s thumb grazes your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“Do you want to stay in here and hangout for the rest of the night, just the two of us?” Matthew whispers, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between you two.

You nod, climbing into his bed and waiting for him to join you, putting on a movie and pulling you into his arms. You knew there was a giant party going on outside of those four walls of Matthew’s childhood bedroom, but nothing could be better than laying in his arms just the two of you.

February 2020

After the All Star Game, you threw yourself into your schoolwork knowing Matthew was headed on a two week road trip. You’d spent the two weeks catching up on an enormous amount of work, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it once Matthew finally got back to Calgary. You were grabbing a coffee before your class, when your phone rang in your pocket - Matthew’s caller ID appearing on the screen.

“Helllllo,” You answer, excited to hear his voice - even if it was just over the phone.

“Hey, do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks.

“I do not,” you say, knowing for a fact Matthew knew you didn’t.

“We have this Flames gala thing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks, and you can hear Johnny and Sam chirping him in the background.

“Matthew, that’s in like two days!” You say, scolding him for not asking you sooner so you could find a dress.

“I know, I just kind of forgot about asking you, I told the team I was taking you though,” He defends, knowing he said he was bringing a date before he even bothered to ask you.

“Yes I will go, but please remember to give me some WARNING next time,” You sigh into the phone, “Now if you’ll let me go, I need to go find a dress.”

“I keep an extra card in my nightstand, use it,” Matthew says, “And before you say no, consider it a gift for not killing me for telling you last minute.”

Initially you laugh, knowing Matthew kept an extra debit card in his apartment because he lost his more frequently than a normal person should, but once his words settled in you began the usual protest you gave him when it came to money, “Matthew…” you start, ready to explain to him that you don’t need him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you.

“Y/N, just take it,” He says, “I’m really too tired for this one.”

You sigh, “Fine, but this is the last time.” “Whatever you say, I’ll tell Brittany to make sure you use it,” He says, and you knew he wasn’t kidding, “Bye.”

You mutter a goodbye back, texting Brittany that you were in dire need of an emergency shopping experience before the Gala on Friday. She laughed when you called, already having received a text from Matthew to make sure that she made you use his card.

The night of the gala you head to Matthew’s, carrying your dress and all of the things you knew you would need to get ready, tossing them in his guest room when you arrive. You head into the bathroom, promptly starting with your makeup when you heard him get in from the rink, yelling about how he was going to shower and heading into his room. You finally set your hair into loose curls and start to step into your dress. The off the shoulder black dress stopped right above your knees and fit you like a glove. Brittany didn’t even tell you how much is cost, grabbing it and paying for it on Matthew’s card before you could even look. But, the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt you felt. You slip on the nude heels you chose to wear, and call Matthew in to help clasp your necklace.

“Wow,” He says, stepping behind you, fastening the necklace to your neck, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Matty,” You say, turning out to take in the suit he was wearing. When you told him you decided to get something black, he was excited having had a dark maroon suit in his closet he wanted to wear, “You look alright I guess.” “I look alright?” He asks, lightly tickling at your sides, “You’re such a brat.”

You laugh, “You look super handsome, happy?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and leading you out to his car. The Gala was in full swing when you arrived, the room filled with his teammates, fans, and other important people in the city.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You hear Noah’s voice behind you while Matthew was over having a conversation with one of the team’s trainers who was at the event.

“What Noah?” You ask, ready for the comment about Matthew taking you as his date.

“You look like that and Chucky still won’t lock you down? He’s really dumber than I thought,” Noah says, gesturing to you.

“Don’t you have a date you should be complimenting?” You say back, knowing Noah had brought some girl to the event, even though they were never around long.

“Not one that looks as good as you,” Noah says, “So, still got that little crush.”

“Yes and I’m done talking about it,” You say, watching Noah’s hands go up in defeat as Matthew steps behind you.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asks, ignoring the face Noah was giving him for being so gentle with you.

You nod, grabbing his hand and following him out to the dancefloor. You place your arms around his neck while his move to your hips, swaying to the music. You look behind you, seeing Noah smirking at the two of you while dancing with his own date. You throw up your middle finger, not letting Matthew notice. The two of you spend the night with each other, dancing and having Matthew introduce you to a lot of people who were working in the front office with the team that you’d never met before. You couldn’t help but feel like something was changing between the two of you, especially when he kept his hand on your lower back while walking through the gala, or his hand gently stroking your thigh while you guys sat at your table.

March 2020

You never talked about how you spent your Valentine’s Day romantically slow dancing with your best friend at a Gala his team was throwing after that night. You couldn’t tell if thing’s had actually changed between the two of you, or if it was a result of the romantic atmosphere. Thing’s with Matthew had returned back to the normal routine, with the Flames in the middle of their playoff push, Matthew was around less, spending more and more time at the rink. You understood, taking the time to spend some time with your friends that weren’t him.

You finally both had a day off, deciding that you’d head over to his place to cook the both of you dinner. You arrive at his place before he does, placing your bags down and getting straight to cooking. You hear him come in, humming at the smells of the food.

“Hey stranger,” He says, joking about the fact that you haven’t been spending as much time together as you usually did.

“Oh please, you talked to me about your practice today on the phone for an hour, you’re hardly starved for attention,” You say, calling him out for being dramatic.

“I need all of your attention or I might actually die,” He says, wrapping you in a hug, “So what’s been up with you?” “Same old same old, this guy from my class asked me out on a date, I haven’t told him yes or no,” You shrug, moving back to cooking dinner.

“No,” He says, instantly, and you turn off the oven, turning around to face him.

“No?” You ask.

“I mean- uh- fuck,” He stutters, “You can’t go on a date with that guy I’m sure you’re too good for him.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “Matthew I know you live in a world where you don’t want me to get hurt, but I can’t not date because you don’t want me to.”

“I know, I just-” He starts before you cut him off.

“You what Matthew? Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t go out with this guy,” You snap back.

“Because I want you to date me,” He says quietly, “I wanted this to be better, you deserve it to be perfect, but I love you so much, and I can’t keep denying it any longer. I love when you spend all of your time here because I love spending time with you. I love that you get along with my teammates, and my family. I love when you get dressed up to go out, because I get to walk around with the most beautiful girl in the world under my arm. I was just terrified you didn’t feel the same way and that you’d hate me. Then when we were dancing at the Gala it felt different, like you were as into me as I’m into you.”

You uncross your arms, walking around the island to stand in front of him, placing your arms around his neck, “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” “Really? Cause I think I could do better-” Matthew starts, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. His hands move to cup your face, kissing you back slowly, the two of you melt into each other like you’d been made for each other all along.

“I love you too,” You mutter against his lips, feeling him smile.

“You’re not gonna go on that date right?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You laugh, “No, there’s only person I want taking me out on a date,” you joke, placing another kiss to his lips.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Matthew jokes back, kissing you again, solidifying how truly right it feels to finally be together.

[mcytreaderfics]

Hii, could you make a dream x reader, where they fought and then the reader left the house and dream has mcc so he cant skip stream? And maybe do a happy ending cause im starving for fluff with angst, ty so much

I love me some angst

-

"I can't believe you could even say that to me!" Their voice was upset and for good reason. ____ was already pulling on their shoes as they saw Dream step into the room from their peripherals.

"____ calm down- I said I'm sorry!" He said, voice bordering between upset and exasperated. They looked up at their boyfriend and glared, tear streaks on their face.

"fuck off" ____ muttered, getting up from the bed and grabbing their keys from the bedside table. Dreams expression twisted into worry now.

"Wait- Wait where are you-" he started, reaching out to touch his partner's shoulder as they were walking past, but ____ recoiled from the touch. They took a step away once they were in the doorway, a frown planted on their lips.

"Don't touch me, Dream. I'm taking a walk. I'll be back later." Their voice was even, tears still trying to well up as they wiped at their eyes roughly.

"But-" He tried, but ____ was already walking away from him and downstairs. Dream stood in the hallway and flinched as the door downstairs opened and slammed shut. He leaned back against the wall, hands covering his face as he slammed his head back into it. Nothing happened to the wall, but his head was throbbing now. Good. He felt like he deserved at least that...

"I should really go try and talk to them..." Dream mumbled, but his phone buzzing from within his pocket distracted him. Lazily dragging it out, he frowned at his background. ____ looked so happy. They were laying on the couch in it, patches draped over them napping. It was a good moment. Sighing, he swiped the screen and unlocked his phone. A notification from Sapnap popped down.

[Sapnap: Are you set up for mcc yet? We're waiting lol]

The message was innocent, but it filled Dream with dread. How could he have forgotten about the championships today? He had been talking with ____ just the other day.

"Fuck me." Dream groaned in annoyance, pushing away from the wall as he walked downstairs slowly. Patches wandered past him with a happy chirp. He, of course, stopped to pet her before continuing to his recording room. Was he wasting time? Absolutely. There was no way he was going to be able to focus on this stupid stream with ____ gone. Stepping in and shutting the door behind him, Dream sent back a short message.

[Dream: getting on now.]

---

The entire stream was going to shit, no matter how hard Dream was trying to keep it together. His chat had noticed it too. He was missing jumps he never would have missed. Fumbling his keys and hitting the wrong thing. Dream was getting obviously frustrated too.

"Jeeze dude, you're really sucking today" Sapnap's light-hearted tone came through his headphones as Dream fought the urge to hit his desk. Glaring at his screen, he took a deep breath and shook his head

"Shut up..." He said, trying to laugh it off. "Just having a bad day. I'll come in clutch at the end, you'll see" Dream added, watching his chat fly by in the corner of his eye. He caught a few messages and tried not to roll his eyes.

'Dream must be drunk to be messing up this bad'

'He sounds annoyed. Him and Gogy are having marital problems lol'

'#Dreamsucks let's get it trending lol'

Shaking his head, Dream forced himself to try and scrape together the rest of this stream. There was probably still a chance they could win if he stopped losing his focus.. maybe. Sapnap teasing him seemed to help at least a little after awhile.

--

It didn't happen. Dream muted himself so he could lean back and groan his annoyance out into the room. They had been so close, but hadn't won. People in the chat were split between congratulating him on second place and the others were spamming '#Second'

"We almost had it" He heard Ant say encouragingly, making Dream sit back up and unmute.

"Yeah. Sorry guys, my head just wasn't in it today.." Dream chuckled weakly, running over in game to crouch a few times in front of the winning team as congratulations. He could be a good sport about it at least.

"It's cool. Always next time" Sapnap mused. "Wanna play around on the smp for awhile?" He added, making Dream's stomach twist. No, he really didn't.

"I'm gonna pass, sorry. Think I'm done for tonight" He said honestly. His friends understood and Dream apologized jokingly to his chat for not playing as well as he could. Shortly after reading some dono's, he ended the stream. Double checking that it was off, Dream slipped his headphones off and turned his computer off. He sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair. Some stress eating sounded really good about now.

Stepping out of his recording room, he was texting his friends over discord to assure them he was okay, just that him and ____ had an argument before stream and he was distracted because of it. As he turned the corner to the living room, he stopped in the walkway, seeing ____ on the couch with Patches. From where he stood, Dream could see Twitch open on their phone. He stood there for a moment before ____ spoke.

"I got pizza. Want some?" They asked, lifting the box next to them up in offering. Dream nodded and walked over cautiously. ____ moved the box so he could sit, curling up again his side immediately.

"I was watching the stream. You're already trending on Twitter" They mused as Dream got a slice from the box. He peeked over at their phone as they opened the app and swiped to the trending page.

"Yeah?" Dream hummed as he took a bite "Is it 'Dream sucks' or 'Second'?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Dream sucks. Gotta agree, though, you did suck" ____ laughed softly, him joining in. For a moment after, they were both quiet..and then they both sighed softly.

"I'm sorry-"

"I was a dick-"

They had spoken at the same time as Dream. The two of them looked at each other before they both started laughing again. ____ leaned their head against him, giggling.

"I'm sorry..I was over reacting" ____ apologized, Dream shaking his head.

"No, I was an asshole when I shouldn't have been. I'm sorry" he said and ____ just smiled gently and leaned in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, but didn't last long as Patches meowed, feeling left out, as she butted her head against against their chins. The two lovers parted with laughter as ____ scooped her up and gave the jealous cat pets and kisses to her head. Dream sat back and watched the scene with a small grin. Everything was back to normal.

[raindancer2004]

A mate for Christmas? - Felix

Word Count: 1,379 Felix x Swan reader Oneshot Warnings: Fluff

Felix –

Demetri, Felix and the twins joined Aro and Marcus at the Cullen’s house for Christmas; Caius refusing to go as he knew the ‘Dog’ would be there. “Caius sends his apologies Carlisle, but he couldn’t join us for Christmas. He decided to stay back and keep things in order at the castle” “I understand Aro. We’re glad that you, Marcus and the guard would come” Carlisle replied.

Carlisle led them upstairs to where the rest of the family were waiting; including Y/N Swan, Bella’s sister.

Felix noticed her the moment he entered the room; Y/C hair, Y/C eyes and your scent hit him like no other had before ‘Blueberry and Vanilla’ He felt a pull towards her and a knowing smile from Marcus confirmed it; Y/N Swan was his mate.

The Cullens exchanged gifts and Y/N handed him a small gift neatly wrapped in blue wrapping paper with silver Stags “For you.” He took the gift and gave her a small smile; opening it revealed a Mario Kart video game “Thank you Y/N. it’s great” Felix thanked her with a smile. “Edward mentioned you liked playing games especially ones where you can play against the other guards” Y/N said “I do, it’s a good way to relax after long missions or a day of trials” Felix replied “I feel bad though as I do not have gift for you” He added “That’s ok I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted you to have a gift to open” She replied softly and Felix smiled at her.

“Hey Felix would you like to play the Switch with me?” Emmett asked “Sounds good. Want to play too Y/N?” Felix asked her “I’d like that but I’m not very good” She replied back “That’s ok. Mario Kart is relatively easy. The aim of the game is to win the race, whilst sabotaging the other people in the race” Felix told her smiling “I think I’ll watch you two play for a bit first” She replies giving him a smile.

Emmett set up the console and loads the game, passing Felix a controller they both get comfortable on the sofa. Y/N goes to sit at the other end of the sofa only to be stopped by a hand on her arm “Sit with me” Felix says and gently pulls Y/N down onto his lap “Just watch what I do” He says low and she nods back in response.

“Aww look at you two, getting all cosy. Who would have guessed that the big scary vampire would cradle a fragile little human in his arms” Emmett said teasing, Felix growled at him although Emmett ignored him and continued to comment on Felix and Y/N seating arrangement, Rosalie rolled her eyes at her mate’s behaviour “Really Emmett” She said under her breath. “Hey guys look, the Volturi’s executioner is allowing a human to sit on his lap, who would have thought it?” Emmett called out to his brothers, who chuckled at the site of Y/N seated upon Felix’s lap. Demetri and the twins also found it amusing as Y/N was tiny compared to their giant vampire friend. “I’m going to demolish you Cullen” Felix practically growled the words out. Y/N wasn’t sure how to feel about sitting so close to a vampire, especially one that usually ate humans, but something about him told her she was safe with him.

Y/N sat there watching Felix and Emmett race each other, keeping score on who won the most races; the answer was Felix, but not by much “I will not be bested by a veggie vamp” Felix said and Emmett laughed “Try harder then, old man.” This earnt him another low growl from Felix, Y/N couldn’t help laughing at the two of them.

“May I try and play now Felix?” Y/N asked low, a small smile on her lips “Of course you can, here” Felix handed her the controller and watched as she took on Emmett, her competitive streak coming through as time went on “Take that Veggie” She cried out as she hits Emmett’s character with a blue shell “That’s my girl” Felix says proudly, making Y/N blush.

A few hours later Felix and Y/N found themselves alone “Can I ask you a question?” Y/N asked low “Of course, you can ask me anything” Felix replied and watched as Y/N fiddled with the hem of her top, a sign that she was nervous "D-did you mean what you said before...about me being your girl?" Y/N asked not looking up at him. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head gently “Yes. I meant it. You are my girl and always will be little one” Y/N looked a little shocked as his declaration. “What do you know about mates?” “Not a lot really. Only that Bella and Edward share a blood singer mate bond, whereas the other Cullens share a non-blood singer bond but I don’t really understand it” Felix nodded “Let me explain then. Vampires have mates, soulmates to be exact. We only get one mate in our lifetime, therefore if we lose them we become heartbroken, sad and eventually depressed as we lose a part of ourselves” Felix paused for a moment allowing her to take in the information, Y/N nodded at him and he continued “We know when we have met our mate as we feel a pull towards them, a need to be near them, a need to protect them” His fingers gently stroked her cheek, her eyes fluttered closed at his touch “So I am your mate?” Her voice was low as she looked into his ruby coloured eyes, he nodded “Yes” He replied low, a smile on his lips, she smiled back at him, but then her smile dropped as a thought crossed her mind “Wh-what if you change your mind about us…about me?” He cupped her face in his hands and looked down at her “Vampires only fall in love once and it’s permanent…nothing changes that, even if we were to have a disagreement our love for one another wouldn’t falter…ever” Felix assured her, placing his cold lips to her forehead. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her “You were born to be with me and me alone. I have waited a very long time to meet you and now that I have you, I am never going to let you go” She pulled away slightly and looked up him, her hands gripped his jumper and she pulled him down so she could kiss his cheek “I’m sorry I made you wait so long” She whispered “Don’t be…fate ensured we met when we were meant to, after all I was created long ago…and you my darling girl are more than worth the wait” He pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss and felt her relax into him.

He smiled into the next kiss, and the next and the next until she tapped his chest lightly “Need to breath Felix” She mumbled against his lips, he chuckled lightly and pulled away allowing her to breath “Sorry…your lips are so warm and soft and…I caught up in the moment” If he could blush, his cheeks would be pink “It’s ok, I like kissing you too, just remember I need to breath…for now” She smiled at him before pulling him back down for another kiss.

Y/N agreed to go to Volterra with Felix choosing to spend forever with her mate, although she was sure living in a castle full of vampires would be a little strange, difficult even, but she knew that with Felix by her side she could deal with anything. “I will always protect you Y/N, whether you’re human or immortal. I love you more than anything in this world” Felix told her as he held her in his arms. They were on the cuddled up on the sofa in their shared room watching the snow fall “I love you too” Y/N replied, turning her head slightly and placing a kiss to his cheek.

Christmas became Felix’s favourite holiday after that and he made sure to celebrate it every year for eternity for it doubled as his and Y/N’s anniversary; the day he finally found his soulmate and got his happily ever after.

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin- King of my Heart

Happy blog birthday @cheri-translates! Here’s your present!! Hope you enjoy. 💙 🎉

You honestly don’t know why you were so terrified of chess.

Was it because it was the fear of losing? Or the fear of being humiliated? You would question yourself every time a chessboard appeared in your foresight.

Still, you took out the chessboard that had been casted away in the sad corner of your storage closet and wipe the box clean, sneezing from the minuscule dust particles escaping in the process.

“There are two opposing sides- black and white. White always makes the first move. How you win the game is by checkmating the opponent’s King.”

You lay the board flat on the coffee table in the living room then pour the pieces out, catching them before they roll off the edge. You make sure that everything was in the right order according to the guidebook as you check back and forth for each piece, hazily reciting the rules to yourself as you go. You adjust them carefully so that the pieces were all were staying perfectly aligned in their corresponding squares- white emulating black.

You knew Gavin had spare time during the weekends and so you used this opportunity to offer a game of chess. Surprisingly, he had never touched a chessboard in his life, but you guess it didn’t really matter since Gavin was used to thinking critically and strategically similar to his interactive simulation missions at STF. And of course, Gavin being the amazing man you love, is a quick learner and you have no doubt that he will perform well for a beginner.

“It’s not all about winning or losing, so don’t be so conflicted with the end result. You’re always a winner to me.”

Cookies that you baked beforehand- check. You had made sure not to make it overly sweet with the chocolate and sugar. Your pu’er tea accompanied by a matching Jupiter teapot and Moon teacups- check. You had bought them last week with Gavin and this would be the first time he’ll see it being used. Chessboard, good natural lighting from outside, comfy cushions to contribute to the cosiness and grounding sensation from sitting on the floor- all check. Yourself- check. Gavin... not check- yet.

You glance at the clock, noticing that it had just turned 1:59pm. Gavin should be here in exactly a minute.

You do a final sweep of the room, sighing from the satisfaction of the view being easy on the eyes for once. You know Gavin wouldn't mind the mess, but since you had the time to prepare and clean up beforehand, of course you took up the opportunity to do so and save you from the embarrassment afterwards.

The sound of the doorbell finally rings from outside, echoing through the walls of your home and heart. You feel your adrenaline pick up and dash towards the door to open for the person waiting behind, ready to let him in. Without having to say anything beforehand, you pulled him straight into a tight hug, with your head buried between his neck and shoulder.

Gavin- check, you remind yourself and smile. Nothing is missing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, hugging you right back. He then laughs, his voice sounding through the halls of the apartment complex. “I’m not even halfway through the door.”

You hug him tighter. You feel Gavin secretly smiling as he follows suit.

Being the first to let go, you finally lead him to the assortments of your hard work after he shuts the door behind him.

Gavin obediently sits down across from you on the carpet at white’s side of the board as you hand him the biggest cookie from the cookie platter. You watch him consume everything without hesitation, smiling at the remaining crumbs.

“Chocolate chip cookie made especially for you. Not too sweet this time, I promise. Should I have added chilli to this? Apparently the combination exists.”

“If that’s something you want to try making, sure.” He simultaneously chews while he smiles, his eyes fixating on you after you sit directly across from him.

You then pour the tea equally into the Moon cups and place one in front of him, making sure he could clearly recognise the cups- though not like he could ever forget.

“What do you think?” you exclaim.

He replies immediately with a cough. “It’s cute.”

You help yourself to your own cookie, letting the chocolate bits melt on your tongue. You smile too at tasting something edible that is of your own making, finally something that you and Gavin could eat safely without risking to add it to the long list of one of the “dark cuisine” foods.

“So about today, you said you wanted to teach me Chess?” he asks. You nod vigorously, a spark of happiness coming from within that you are the one now teaching Gavin instead of how it normally was the other way around.

“This piece is the King. It can only move one space at a time.” You point to the tallest piece that holds a cross at the top.

You then point to the piece fixated next to it, the one with the crown. “Next to it is the Queen. She can move anywhere she wants, however many squares she likes. She’s the most powerful piece in the game.”

You then point to the row above the King and Queen. “This row is full of pawns. They can move up two spaces in their first move. After that, they can only move one space up at a time.”

“When you’re older, you’ll find someone else to play chess with... and someone who will be by your side.”

That memory abruptly resurfaces from the depths of your subconscious, like each Chess piece of a chessboard gradually coming together with each piece of explanation you gave to Gavin. The black and white pieces- the good and bad memories, especially the ones with your father. You pause for a bit, before continuing on- before Gavin could notice the split second of hesitation.

“Rooks move horizontally and vertically, and Bishops can only go diagonally. Knights move two squares and one across on either side, like an “L” shape, and is the only piece that can jump over other pieces on the board,” you say, pointing to each corresponding piece. Gavin’s eyes follow your every move, nodding with his eyebrows slightly furrowing. You can’t help but let out a little smile from being able to capture a glimpse of this rarer side of Gavin- Commander Gavin.

“You have a choice to capture the opponent’s pieces if the opportunity ever comes up. The point of the game is to “checkmate” the other person’s King. This means that it is being targeted and has no other places to go. Before that, when the King is in danger but not checkmate, this means the King is in “check” and is forced to move. That’s it! As long as you remember these few rules, you’ll be okay.”

Gavin nods. “Got it," he responds, sternly. He most certainly is starting to look like a Chess grandmaster to you at the moment. You know he has to deduct investigations and complete various missions and STF tasks daily while you struggle to write the first draft for a show proposal. You feel he's way too intelligent, sometimes.

“Since you’re a beginner,” you start, “you can play as white first. White always makes the first move. We can start now if you don’t have any questions.”

Gavin pauses and observes each piece before him. Then, he reaches out for a pawn on the right side of his board and moves it forward two spaces. You move up the pawn in front of your King in response. Both of you slowly exchange moves, and more pieces congregate up in the middle of the chessboard.

“Who taught you how to play Chess?” Gavin finally asks.

“My father. Whenever he had time off set. He taught me a lot, including important life lessons relating to Chess as well. Though, I can't remember much.”

“Oh.” Gavin looks up from his chessboard, his eyes filling with concern. You look back with indifference, but smile, using this opportunity to stare right back. In this moment, you gradually take in the way his hair perfectly falls into place, with the sunlight highlighting the contours of his face and bringing out the shine in his amber eyes.

Your thoughts drift back to that autumn day, vividly reminiscing the ginkgo leaves dancing with the wind, pleasantly surprising you enough to stop your piano playing.

You blink out of that memory, and move your Queen towards Gavin’s King, cornering it with the support of a Rook.

“Checkmate.” You smile, a giggly feeling overcomes you from finally being able to beat Gavin at something, especially with a game that values a lot of strategy and analysing.

“Hm. Very good,” Gavin says, observing where I had cornered him, no doubt archiving this moment to use against me in future matches. Even though he lost, the corners of his mouth perks up at the sight of my joy.

“Let’s have a rematch! One more," you exclaim. Hopefully you could keep this enthusiasm up and form a winning streak.

Gavin helps reset the board without the help of the guidebook. This time, you play white and Gavin plays black. You both follow the same rhythm of how you two were the first time, however you notice Gavin’s movements were faster and more sure, strategically succeeding in capturing a lot of your pieces- pawns and all, though luckily not the Queen yet. The amount of growth he was displaying compared to earlier really shouldn’t surprise you, but it did anyway.

In the middle of the game, you make a bold risk, moving up the black Queen to the adjacent square to his King, certain that you have won this time again. “Checkmate!”

“But… you don’t have a supporting piece for it,” Gavin states, watching your face slowly flush in embarrassment. You observe his slim fingers move the King towards where your Queen was, and captures it. You grab your cup and take a sip of your tea in response, hopefully covering up your disappointment behind your hand. You kick yourself for having completely forgotten about that.

From then onwards, Gavin swiftly checkmates your King with the two Rooks lined up on the board, making it impossible for it to escape. You sigh. You tried your best, at least.

You try to disguise your disappointment in the wake of your defeat again with a smile and grab another cookie to chew on while Gavin studies the board. However, despite the result on your end, you were still admittedly proud of Gavin and allow yourself to feel grateful for being the only one to see this side of him to you.

“You lost a lot of pieces trying to attack. Especially with your Queen- you weren’t hesitant to sacrifice. Your pawn structure was weak and you moved without purpose.”

You stop munching the cookie. “You got all of that from those two games?”

Gavin nods slowly. He nonchalantly takes a sip of his third-time freshly poured tea, its steam floating towards the ceiling. “In STF simulations, you need to take note of every variable. Evol abilities, weather, weapons, and your fellow comrades- especially time. The criminal won’t hand you that much luxury. Every wrong decision would cost you. You need a plan for attack and defence, always. Always have a Plan B. If not, a Plan C. And if none of them will do, always have a Plan Z. Sometimes I’ll need to command nine groups at once. Other times it’ll just be me.”

You look at him blankly, your eyes widening as the only sign of response to his words. His eyes widen as well, not expecting that you would take it that way.

“I mean…” Gavin coughs before continuing, “it always works out. Please don’t worry. We’re highly trained for these operations, remember? I’ll always come back to you. I promise.” His hands reach out to hold yours at the table, meeting each other’s half-way.

"When I got used to holding your hand, buying different flowers for you each occasion, having reserved dinners and looking at the stars with you at night, I knew I couldn't continue the way like how I was before... before I met you again. Like being trapped in a building or apprehending someone and missing out of something that we planned in advance, I- I can't have that. Which is why I'd need to think of alternative operation routes, ones that require less sacrifice however still bear the same effectiveness as before. This is why I am the way I am now."

Who knew back then that this man would be your first love- a man so honest and sincere. Back when you would take a moment to smile at him in the hallways, receive help for retrieving the textbooks on the 2-metre shelves or just those few times when passing by the senior classrooms on your way to the music practice room and see him sleeping or staring outside the window where he sat.

“And you’ll find him. That person who will be with you through all life’s joy and heartbreak. Someone who will never leave you. Your King.”

You recall your father’s words as you squeeze Gavin’s hand a little more tighter. He squeezes right back three times.

You notice Gavin’s eyes awaken with a certain emotion that only you will notice- that something only you will ever know- directed at only you.

You squeeze his hand a little more tighter. He squeezes right back three times.

“Whether life is a game of Chess or not, you’re the only one who can dominate my territory, my pieces and my King. And when it comes to you, I’ve already won... my Queen.”

Closing his eyes, he brings forth your hand to his lips and lightly kisses it, already forever fulfilling his declaration of love.

I haven't posted any fan fiction before, let alone officially write one. This also accounts my first time having written this particular second person perspective, (apart from the Blue Temperature Gavin Empty Arena story) as this isn’t how I usually write. Normally I use first person and more indirect dialogue more than direct dialogue in my creative writing but this was really fun to try! Honestly, I couldn’t help myself but to bring forth some foreshadowing/parallels with the actual main storyline because admittedly, my writing takes need a lot of thought to understand the techniques I use and why my writing is the way it is. So, I won't be completely sure on if this will be received or not HAHA. But apart from everything else, this piece of work was made for this very special case for this very special day for a very special person so I won’t be posting much fan fiction as much as my other current work as I still prioritise my analyses and miscellaneous posts more but if you happen to want to see more, please let me know :) Thanks for reading and let’s all show Cheri much love for her accomplishments and milestone, today!

[slowly-writing]

Seniors vs. Juniors

Avengers x Romanoff!Reader

Word count:1811

Requested by anon: 1)Nat x daughter claustrophobia, maybe Tony there too? TYSM 2) the minute little Widow gets hurt, sick, or is sad Nat turns into the biggest softy.

You were always a little bit...cocky to say the least.

You really couldn’t be blamed for it. All it took was one look at the people who raised you to understand your competitive and confident nature. 15 years ago somebody decided it was a good idea to put an adorable little kid in with Earth’s mightiest heroes, and have them hype her up for her whole life. That somebody was your mom, and now here you are.

It was time for the annual end of the year baseball tournament and Midtown Tech. Juniors vs. Seniors, and this year you were determined the Juniors were going to win. Peter and Wanda had spent weeks taunting you about how the Seniors always won and this year would be the same, how they were going to destroy you. Of course having trained with the Avengers you were all three selected to play and everyone in the compound was forced to listen to your trash talk.

“You’re going down today, Romanoff,” Wanda’s first words to you at breakfast make you roll your eyes.

“Who is it that’s coming off an 0 and 1 losing streak? Oh yeah, that’d be you Maximoff,” you snap back causing Steve to let out a low whistle.

“I can not wait for this game to be over so I can quit hearing about it,” your mom groans and you shrug.

“We could’ve all been in the same grade, but noooooo. Third grade was too important for my social development and I just couldn’t skip it. This trash talk is all on you mom,” you grab a bottle of water and a few granola bars and shove them into your bag.

“I shouldn’t have let you skip first grade either, then you’d be a sophomore and I wouldn’t have to hear about it at all,” your mom says with her signature raised eyebrow and you just roll your eyes once again.

“Whatever. What time is Parker getting here? We need to leave soon or we’ll miss warm ups,” you ask Wanda and she laughs out loud.

“You think Peter’s swinging you off to school today? You’re the competition, you find your own way there,” Wanda calls over her shoulder as she bolts out the door.

“Wha-you can fly! I don’t have any powers! This is so unfair!” you call after her before spinning to face the adults, “can one of you please give me a ride?”

“After the sass you just gave me?” your mom asks and you groan.

“Moooom! It’s school! I have to go!” you whine and it’s her turn to let out a laugh.

“I’m just kidding, come on. You’ve got a baseball game to win.”

xxxxxx

“This is it ladies and gentlemen. It’s the bottom of the ninth. The bases are loaded. Juniors are down by 3. With two outs, three balls, and two strikes will Romanoff make or break this game? It’s all on her shoulders. Will she bring her team to victory or doom them to a crushing defeat?” The voice rings through the stadium speakers and you let out a breath.

“No pressure though, right Ned?” you call out and you hear a quiet “sorry” mumbled into the microphone as you step back into the box. Wanda had been banned from pitching due to the fact that she could change the speed of the ball halfway through the pitch as she saw fit, so you were staring down Peter on the mound. You keep your eye on the ball as he sends a perfect pitch down the center of the zone. You time your swing perfectly and send it flying into the outfield.

“We have a hit!” Ned's voice rings out as you take off. “Romanoff has sent the ball deep into center field And Flash is running for it. Will he live up to his name? Oh! No he will not, and the ball is dropped as Brad Davis scores, shrinking the gap for the juniors!”

Ned’s voice is egging you on as you round first and head for second. Flash throws it to Jason who’s right behind first before realizing you’ve already past it. Jason, in his panic, sends it flying over Zach’s head into the outfield that Flash just vacated as Betty scores. You round third as the game ties and you’re staring down Wanda as you sprint for home. She standing directly on the baseline, which you’re pretty sure isn’t allowed but she’d just cite her lack of knowledge on American sports if she got called out. She catches Peter’s pass but she’s almost as cocky as you. Almost. She wants to tag you out herself and you smirk at her intention. As you near her you plant your left foot and throw yourself into the air, over her. You flip yourself over her and land your right foot directly on home plate.

The crowd goes wild as your momentum continues, sending you sliding through the dirt. Your team surrounds you, ready to cheer you on for leading the Juniors to victory for the first time in decades. Outside of the celebration Peter and Wanda momentarily freeze. He can sense something is not right and she can literally feel your pain.

“Everybody back up right now!” Wanda’s voice is heard over the celebration and the field falls silent, even Ned ceasing his announcement. Most People think Wanda is being a sore loser, but nobody has the courage to stand up to her for it. As the crowd parts everyone slowly begins to realize you’re still on your stomach trying to push yourself up on your elbows. Your face is contorted in pain and tear tracks cut through the dirt marks on your cheeks. Everyone goes rigid. Nobody besides Peter and Wanda have seen you cry before. Ever.

“Something’s wrong! Everybody give her some space!” The entire student body complies, not accustomed to hearing Peter Parker raise his voice, much less yell. Seconds later MJ appears with your bag and is pulling out your phone as Ned is pushing back anyone he deems to be too close to you.

“What’s going on?” Wada’s voice is softer when she addresses you and you grit your teeth, willing your voice to be steady.

“My knee. Something’s wrong Wan,” you grit out as Peter gently takes your arms and rolls you onto your back.

“What exactly happened, y/n?” Peter says and Wanda stares at your rapidly swelling knee, quietly telling MJ to call your mom.

“When I landed on the plate. It twisted, bad,” you groan, aggressively wiping the tears off your face as the teachers work on moving the crowd away to give you more room.

“Did it pop when you twisted it?” Wanda asks and you nod.

“That’s really bad, right?” you ask and she grimaces.

“Yeah, that’s bad but everythings going to be okay,” she brushes the dirt off your face and brings your eyes to meet her, “we are right here. It’s all going to be okay, y/n/n.”

You look between the two heros hovering over you, both with looks of poorly hidden fear stretching across their faces. They’re the closest thing you have to older siblings and even though there’s only a two year age gap they’re fiercely protective of you. You can feel your bottom lip start tremble as the seconds pass by. “Wanda, Peter. This hurts really bad.”

“I know. You’re going to be alright,” Peter notices the red marks appearing on your arms and situates himself behind you, letting you lean back into his chest as he holds your weight to keep your forearms from pressing into the rough dirt.

“I want my mom,” your voice is barely a whisper and Wanda knows why. You’re an Avenger damnit. You will not let everyone see you crying for your mom after falling down.

I know. She’s on her way, Wanda’s voice comes through your head and you smile, Peter’s coming through next.

It’s just us. You don’t have to pretend to be okay, he promises and you nod, letting his words comfort you. Wanda had learned to do this a few years ago and it quickly became your secret language. You liked to call it a groupchat on steroids, and it was your favorite way to communicate. It was also great for making fun of the adults at the dinner table.

A bang in front of you causes you to jump and Peter tightens his hold around your waist. You’re okay, you’re safe, Wanda tells you and you look up to see your mom rushing towards you as Tony steps out of his suit.

“What’s going on?” your mom asks as she kneels in front of you, she looks at your face for a moment before her eyes are drawn to your leg.

“Alright. We’re gonna get you to the compound and get that leg checked out. Y/n’s with me, Wanda you’ve got Nat. Peter, you get everybody’s belongings,” Tony quickly takes over the scene and gets everyone going.

xxxxx

“Okay y/n, I think you’ve torn your ACL,” Dr Cho explains, “We’re going to have to do an MRI. We can-”

“No. Absolutely not. You are not putting me in a tiny metal tube for an hour. Find a different way to get your pictures!” you cut her off and your mom places a hand on your shoulder to calm you down but you shrug her off.

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay-”

“No mom! I can’t- I won’t-” your breathing begins to pick up and suddenly Tony’s face is all you see as he tells you to take deep breaths.

“There you go sweetheart. You’re alright. Just breathe,” he coaxes softly as you calm down. “Here’s what’s going to happen. That big scary tube isn’t really all that scary. Your mom will be right next to you. She will be with you the whole time and you’ll only have your legs in the machine. Everythings going to be okay.”

“You’ll stay with me?” you say softly to your mom and she nods with a reassuring smile.

“The whole time,” she promised and you take a deep breath.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

xxxxx

“How are we doing in there, Romanoffs?” Dr Cho asks through the loud speaker and you look to your mom.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks again and you let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand a bit tighter in your own.

“Don’t go anywhere,” is the only response you give but she nods.

“I won’t, I promise,” Nat is silently panicking, she hates seeing her little girl in pain, but she won’t show it. For now she’s going to hold your hand and get you through this. And when it’s all over you will be getting anything you could ever want until you feel better.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @freerebel @prizmix-and-friends @m19friend @worlds-in-words @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

[optimistredsox]

1 Aug, BOS @ SEA, 6-4, win

I have thought, more often than I ever imagined I would, about how many games it takes to make a “streak”. I outright refuse to accept two games is a streak. That isn’t even on the table. However, I have often considered winning three games in a row a streak, but now I’m not so sure. Perhaps because I don’t consider losing three in a row to be a proper streak. I used the term “mini-streak” recently and I won’t lie, I hate it. So let’s make it four games that are the threshold, winning or losing, to qualify for a streak. With that in mind, the Red Sox weren’t on a losing streak after dropping three, they were simply in a bit of a rut. Or had a spell of bad luck? One of those things. Whatever it was, it was not a losing streak. So there. No matter what it was, streak or rut or spell, it’s done now because they won last night, and even though it wasn’t pretty (2 errors guys... c’mon...), they still won and some lovely wonderful things happened. Including nobody I’ve grown fond of cheering getting traded as, aside from adding one infielder for a pitcher I’d never heard of, we apparently didn’t make any moves before the deadline. So. Aside from messiness, there’re a lot of bright sides to be happy about.

Dugie hit a dinger. Mired in a slump (or rut) for the majority of July and mired every bit as deeply in trade talks (which made me sad - dude’s hero is Big Papi... trading him seemed a terrible idea), he hit a massive fucking two-run dinger in the fifth that ended up being the winning run (though there was insurance in the sixth as well. And he’s sticking with us. Hopefully this is the harbinger of awesome dingers and doubles (kid was leading the league in doubles at the beginning of the season) to come as we head down the stretch.

Masa Yoshida, in the wake of far too many 0-fers over the last few games, went two-for-4 and scored a run. 

Bello was solid, if not amazing. He went six and gave up four, which was enough to win. 

The bullpen threw up zeroes, including Winckowski, who had a rough appearance in SF. 

Reese McGuire, back from the IL after what seemed like a very, very long time, announced his return with a dinger. He knocked in two runs in total. Nice to have him back.

We basically kept our team and are only going to add strength to it as folks come back from the IL (see Reese McGuire). This is encouraging. 

We can still win the series. 

The Yankees lost! So did Toronto!

[thekinghazzastyles]

How Could You? // Oliver Wood Part 5

Pairings: Oliver wood x Slytherin!Reader Warnings: None, Fluff, maybe some Angst Word Count: 1171 Time Period: Golden Era Authors Note: Unfortunately this is the last part of the series, or mini series as I should call it. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for reading! xx

*not my gif*

Part 4                  Series Masterlist            Masterlist

The Quidditch Cup was today. You were extremely nervous but you wouldn’t let it show. No one from any house, even yours, needed to know you were nervous. If Slytherin lost the Quidditch Cup this year, it would entirely be your fault for the end of the six-year streak. You had confidence in your team and their skills.

You haven’t had to face Oliver in three days, but today that streak would be broken. You were waiting for Jordan to announce Slytherin onto the pitch. You flew out first just at the same time Oliver did. Both teams took a few laps as Jordan spoke.

“This year, for the seventh year in a row, Gryffindor and Slytherin are competing for the Quidditch Cup. For the last six years Gryffindor, unfortunately, has lost to those dirty snakes.” Jordan’s comment made you roll your eyes but also chuckle. Professor McGonagall called his name and told him to stay unbiased. “Sorry, to Slytherin. This year Slytherin has a new captain, Y/N Y/L/N, will they be able to keep up the streak? Or will Gryffindor steal it right from under them?”

Both Slytherin and Gryffindor flew into starting formation. You drowned out Madam Hooch as she said the same thing every game. You’ve been studying each player and certain tic’s some of them had that once you noticed them, they were easy to point out. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you realized you had to shake hands with Oliver. You couldn’t decide on whether to give him a firm one or just barely grasp his hand so you gave him a regular one.

Madam Hooch tossed the ball into the air and Adrian automatically caught it. Adrian was quick but Oliver, at times, was quicker; already waiting for him to take his shot. Adrian waited and contemplated where and how to tackle his shot. Adrian automatically went to the goal furthest from Oliver, faked it, and then quickly made his shot in the hoop furthest from Oliver.

“That’s ten points to Slytherin, putting them in the lead,” Jordan's voice bellowed over the pitch. He was so loud it could probably be heard all the way on the opposite side of the school.

The match went on for what seemed like forever. Slytherin was in the lead by 50 with 170 points. There really was no way of telling who was going to win. If Gryffindor was to grab the snitch before Slytherin they were going to win. Harry Potter was a great seeker, Draco was too but he whined way too much sometimes. All Malfoy needed to do was grab the snitch before Potter would and we would win.

“Malfoy is diving straight down so he must have spotted the snitch! Potter follows right behind him!” At the same time, you were handed the quaffle. You had a clear shot for a goal and sped off towards the posts. You could see Oliver’s nerves rise. You were a great chaser but he was a great keeper. You also had amazing balance and had been practicing on your broom surfing. You slowly stood up on your broom and focused on not falling off but also making the shot. You drowned out the sound of Lee Jordan's voice and the shock that was clearly shown in it as well. You flew to the side of the outer right hoop as quickly as you could flying away from the outer left hoop. You threw the quaffle into the hoop successfully, earring Slytherin another point. At the same time, Jordan had announced that Malfoy had caught the snitch and Slytherin had won the match. Slytherin had won the Quidditch Cup.

You stayed standing on your broom as you took a victory lap around the pitch. You could hear the groans of all Gryffindors as you passed by their section and the boisterous cheers from all of Slytherin when you passed them. You flew down to the ground and got a small running start off of your broom to the ground and towards the growing group of excited Slytherins.

You ruffled the hair on Malfoy’s head but he was too happy to realize you had messed up his gelled locks. You could hear someone calling your name but not very well over all of the cheers surrounding you. You turned around due to Adrian telling you someone wanted to speak to you. It was Oliver. He was standing a few feet away from the group and he was holding his broom. He looked disappointed in himself, you wanted to feel bad but you didn’t show it.

You walked up to him and held out your hand, “good game.” He looked at your hand and then up at you, shaking your hand.

“Congratulations, and good game. Listen I was a right git and I deserved to be treated like that but you did not deserve what I did to you,” Oliver started.

“I’m sorry what was that?” you cut him off. “I don’t think I can hear you,” you said, bringing your hand to your ear.

Oliver released a breath before getting back on his broom and flying away. You thought he had given up on apologizing

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” his Scottish accent rang throughout the quidditch stadium. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned towards where the announcement was coming from. “I would like to apologize to someone very close to me. Someone I hurt trying to win. Someone I love very much. Y/N, I was a right git and I deserved to be treated like that but you did not deserve what I did to you.” Many heads turned and looked for your reaction while others tried to locate you. “I was jealous and tired of losing to Slytherin. I shouldn’t have used you to cheat. I want a second chance with you more than anything in the world and I’d do anything to get it. If it means giving up quidditch then I will, because I love you more than I love quidditch.” There was an abundance of gasps heard throughout the pitch. Oliver Wood, the man who eats, sleeps, and breathes quidditch, just stated to the entire school that he would give it all up for a girl, for you.

You didn’t know how to react, especially with all of these people, basically the entire school watching you. You ascended your broom and made your way to Oliver. You swiftly made your way to him and gracefully landed. “Admit it,” you started, and confusion took over his face. “I’m the better quidditch player,” you smiled.

He smiled back, bigger than you’d ever seen. It took you by surprise when he hugged you, “after these past two months I’d agree to anything to make you happy,” he finished and you hugged him back, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It’s the truth,” you said laughing.

“I love you, so much.”

“I love you too Ollie.”

The End.

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Taglist: @girl22334​ @isabellamur​

[mor-beck-more-problems]

A Taste of Fae and Croquet || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: the recent past

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: An innocent game in the yard is crashed by a Stymphalian bird. The world cannot always be kind.

CONTAINS: animal death, soft gays

“The last croquet game I remember seeing was in Alice in Wonderland. And I felt so bad for the flamingos, with their heads bashed into the balls every turn, all those cartoon stars over their heads and how much they fought Alice because they didn’t want to play. I never wanted to look into the real thing because it looked so mean. But this is nice!” Morgan beamed at Deirdre across the lawn. She poised her foot over her ball, nestled adorably next to Deirdre’s, and took a big swing. Deirdre’s ball flew, bounced off the fence, and rolled somewhere back to one of the starting arches. With the extra swings she’d earned, Morgan got her ball into one more wicket and in good position to take the last two later. Smug, she skipped over to her girlfriend and gave her the requisite kiss Deirdre had insisted was customary when fae played the game.

“You aren’t making up the rules to go easy on me, are you?” She purred. “Because you should know by now, I like it when you give me a hard time just as much as I like to make you squirm.”

Deirdre laughed, both into the kiss and after, head tilted to the sky. “I am trying to give you a hard time, my love.” She grinned, staring at her purple ball in the grass. When she played the game with Maeve, she’d always won. And when she played with humans, she was more concerned about trying to hit the balls into as many of their heads as she could than she was with winning. Though Deirdre enjoyed winning as much as she did breathing, she was having fun with her loss now. It must have been something to do with the kisses, which she insisted occurred every time a ball passed through a wicket, or the fact that it was Morgan. “Besides, I don’t think there’s much else to the rules than ‘hit the ball through the wicket’ and then something else about bonus shots.”

She waved a hand in the air, uncaring for the propriety of croquet. There must have been a rule or something about making sure the ball stayed on the ground, but it was far more fun to send it sailing through the air, which she did. “Mind your head!” It went up and away and crashing into the wicket closest to Morgan. Deirdre jogged up to survey her work. “That counts, right?” she pointed at the wicket, bent out of shape and ripped from the ground, “I make the rules and I say that counts for two billion points, actually. Oh, and also—“ She leaned across, pressing her lips to Morgan’s. “—I just remembered actually you’re supposed to give these every time you hit a ball. Very important; can’t play the game without it.” She looked back down at their make-shift croquet field. “Oh, my love, you’re at the turning point now. You’re supposed to do something with that stake there...hit it, I suppose? And then start going back.” Deirdre took a look at her own ball, and her own standing in the game; she couldn’t remember what wickets she went through, and which she still needed to, and what order it was she was supposed to follow. Deirdre slung her purple mallet over her shoulder, maybe croquet just wasn’t the game for her.

Morgan jumped back to duck the flying ball. She wasn’t sure how Deirdre did it, and wondered if there was something innate in fae that made them do things as chaotically as possible. Clumsy with happiness, Morgan took a swing at the stake with her mallet, leaving her ball right in the choice place where it was. “You mean like this?” She teased. “And that means you kiss me again, right? I feel like  there was something you said earlier about having to give affection for other swings.” Deirdre had said no such thing, but with balls flying and wickets getting crushed, Morgan could tell that naming a winner wasn’t going to be a very important part of the day. She pulled her girlfriend close and kissed her neck, teasing her in the places that usually made her squeal. Then, flexing her body to its best advantage, she took her swing and guided her ball perfectly on course.

She backed away to steer clear of her girlfriend’s next shot when a shadow flew overhead. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun and pointed. “Is that a gull? Aren’t they supposed to migrate?”

Deirdre hummed, delighted under the feeling of Morgan’s lips against her skin. A sound which quickly bubbled into laughter. “You’re distracting me from winning!” Not that she was winning, of course, but that was the joke. Deirdre sighed, pleased, and readied herself for her swing. “No, that’s a heron, my love. It’s got the long neck thing going on, and it’s far too big to be a gull,” she commented casually, sparing only a short glance up. She had a game to lose, and birds were of no concern to her. As the shadow grew larger and larger, Deirdre in turn became more irritated. It was hard to align her shot in the dark, and she grumbled as she adjusted herself. “You know those things are almost as tall as you.” She wound back, mallet swung far behind her. “On account of your being short and all. There were a couple of them in Ireland, but I’ve never met one that didn’t want to—” She swung her mallet forward, waiting for the collision of wood to plastic. When it never came, she stumbled back, staring wide-eyed at a mallet missing its head. At the end of the handle now was a steaming goop, falling off the wood in thick droplets, leaving nothing in its wake. She stared at the ground, steaming holes where perfect grass once reigned.

“—eat me.” Deirdre blinked, throwing the mallet aside. For all her lack of concern for birds, she didn’t notice that the heron had landed or that it had spread its wings wide. Nor that it had flapped its wings, setting free a volley of feathers, whistling through the air. If she’d cared a little more about birds, she might have remembered something about iron. Instead she stood there, waiting for her brain to catch up with her environment.

Morgan couldn’t stop staring at the mallet. There was supposed to be a hammer head at the end of it. A few seconds ago, it had been there. She’d seen it. It was the purple stripe one because it almost looked like Deirdre’s favorite shade of plum and purple went first. But the head was gone. Not broken, just gone. Something Morgan didn’t know the words for was dripping from the ends and this wasn’t part of the game, this wasn’t part of anything that made sense. Dimly, she heard Deirdre say something that sounded an awful lot like eat me, but Morgan couldn’t find the words to the question she wanted to ask about it. Her eyes had finally caught sight of the heron, red and bronze and so much bigger than any bird had a right to be. It opened its beak to squawk, bright and sharp. Was it yelling at them? Was this just how giant scary birds said hello?

The heron flapped its wings and rose over their heads, squawking again. Its feathers spread and then they were flying, red and purple and shining. Morgan raised her arms to shield her face and whimpered at the pattering sound they made as they went through her skin. The heron swooped down to peck them both and flew up again, circling with menace. And then, Morgan finally found her voice. “What the fuck? What do you mean eat you?”

Deirdre hissed in pain, erupting in quivering gasps just a moment later. Feathers stained red with Deirdre’s blood stuck out of the ground, leaving bubbling slashes where they’d hit her. She’d done what she could to protect her face and neck, but the only thing she could think to use was the rest of her body. She trembled, faltering, moving just in time to evade another feather. Her body was on fire. Deirdre opened her mouth to explain before she was caught by another whimper of pain. “This!” She hissed, gesturing to her red, blistering body, “this is what I mean!” Trembling, she could do nothing but wobble where she stood, finding a measure of fear in looking up and risking a feather finding her throat. And of all the fae to try and eat, Deirdre knew there was some amount of pride in knowing she was the worst kind, and some peace knowing Mina wasn’t around. “T-th-they–“ Deirdre watched as her hands dripped blood to the ground, pieces of her robe hanging loose around her. For a moment, she lifted her head up and let free a small shriek, just enough to send the heron tumbling to the ground. The rest, she wasn’t sure she could manage between the spasms of disorienting pain. “Y-you–“ Her footing slipped and she bumped into Morgan’s side. “They eat–they–” An explanation refused to find a home on Deirdre’s trembling voice. Her mother had trained her to withstand the sting of iron, but not so much at once, not in so many places, not while she was happy. “M-Morgan,” she pleaded, though for what, she wasn’t sure. “Morgan.”

The heron righted itself, angrier and hungrier than it had even been. Deirdre was panting at Morgan’s side, head lowered. If only she could have a second, if only she could have a moment. The cuts on Morgan, marked by where they tore into her sweater, were healed already. Deirdre smiled warmly at them. “Don’t...let it get your head…” She glanced at the heron; at best, the fall had injured its wing, at worst, it’d only served to make it more determined. She didn’t have the time to figure out what both of those things might mean.

“Deirdre!” Morgan caught her banshee in her arms, gaping at the blood and burns that streaked down her body. “I’ve got you. But, what do we do? How do we distract it or stop it or--fuck!” Her words curled off in a shriek as the heron dove for its prey again. Morgan threw them to the ground, covering Deirdre’s body and curling around her, but that didn’t stop the bird from releasing another rain of feathers and snapping at Morgan’s back in frustration.  “Me! What about you? I’m just in the way, it doesn’t want--!” This time when the bird dove, it pulled at her hair, trying to pry her off Deirdre. Morgan gasped, trying to keep still, but it was trying again, pulling and pecking at her scalp and neck. Her head snapped up and for one awful, dizzying second she could see the bird’s talons, the iron glinting in the feathers, the single-minded determination in its dark eyes.

Morgan panicked, this time into action. She shoved Deirdre the last few feet across the lawn and into the pool. Then she flattened herself on the ground and covered her head, praying she’d find a way to dive in too before she was bashed into fertilizer.

The burning ceased, by miracle, it seemed. Her body was submerged in cold where it belonged. Deirdre opened her mouth to share the good news with her girlfriend, but the burning shifted suddenly to her lungs. Where there should have been air, there was water. She floundered, panicked, trapped in memories of her mother’s hand on the back of her neck. She kicked up and gasped when she reached the surface. Deirdre shook her head, wiping water away from her face. “Morgan!” She called out, surveying the scene. “Morg–“ Deirdre laid her hands on the pool’s edge, determined to climb out and help, but wherever she found hold, her grip quickly slipped. There was something to be said about water in freezing temperatures. “Morgan!” She tried again, slashing her hand on the cement. “My love–“ The bird turned to her, another volley of feathers for her pleasure alone. Deirdre sucked in breath and dove down, watching feathers cut harmlessly through the water. When she re-emerged, a plan became far more clear to her. “Morgan! Morgan, I can scream! I just need–“ She dove again, kicking back to the surface. “I just need it to not be–I can’t aim like this! Morgan–“ She dove again, this time swimming around in quick laps. It occurred to her then that heron weren’t birds that were shy of water, in fact, they excelled in it. What seemed like a good plan, might have served to make her a much more delightful target. Deirdre refused fear. Morgan was more than capable. Morgan would figure it out. The heron wouldn’t be a match for a woman that had come back from death.

Morgan would have rather the bird peck her down to stumps than sting Deirdre with another feather. That wasn’t good, or helpful, but in the awful silence when the heron stopped pecking and snapping at her body and swooped over the water for Deirdre, it was the only thing she knew. Not her. Anything but her.

“No!” She croaked, scrambling forwards to the pool. She tried to get her love’s hands, to make out the words and process anything but the one useless thought circling her head. Not her, anything but her, anything but her…

Scream. Right. She just needed to buy Deirdre time without being in brain liquifying distance. Morgan searched the ground nearby. Not much, but she hadn’t known that today would entail fighting for their lives. The heron swooped down to the water again, its beak skating the surface, searching for the right place to take aim.

“Hey!” Morgan shouted. The heron took no notice. She scrambled to the other side of the pool and lifted one of the rocks they’d put in to make the pool feel like more of a lake for Mina. She hefted it in her arms and threw it as hard as she could at the bird. The heron squaked and flapped into the air, dodging the blow. Now recognizing a persistent obstacle, it narrowed its eyes and shot out for her. But Morgan had already reached for her second weapon, her croquet mallet, and when the heron was close enough, she swung.

There was no mistaking the thunk of wood against bird-flesh, but the bird didn’t act phased. Instead it turned, plumes flared furious, and went again. Morgan swung and gasped as the bronze beak burned across her vision as it splintered the mallet in its grip. “Shit.” The heron flew back, circled, and there was nothing else at hand. She ran feet first into the pool and let herself sink as it came for her. They had seconds, at most, before it would start fishing the water for them. Morgan would think of something clever, a way to stay just out of reach of the sound, a way to put her panicked thoughts to good use. Sooner or later it would come to her. It had to.

As far as screaming went, it was a hard thing to do when flailing in the water. Deirdre laughed when she thought of how her mother hadn’t prepared her for this circumstance; the woman seemed to have thought of everything and yet, she’d never once been stoned by a mob of humans but she was in a pool trying to scream. When her wounds had become a manageable burn, she swung her arms over the pool’s edge, trying to get her angle. The heron flew wildly as it tried to fight Morgan, and as skilled as Deirdre knew she was, she couldn't manage a clean shot. There was the delay to account for, for one thing, and the worry of Morgan, for another. When she thought she had it, Morgan was running towards the pool, and before Deirdre could ask, she was jumping in. “Nice hit with the mallet,” she smiled, water splashing into her face. “Very good form. Have you done this before?” Concern did not exist in Deirdre’s features; a by-product of personality or upbringing or desire to soothe Morgan, perhaps. All that mattered to Deirdre now was the presence of her love beside her, and that the heron was over there. Deirdre swam up to Morgan, grinning even as the heron pecked at the edge of the water. “Do you come here often or…?”

The heron squawked, a deep gurgle of a sound; large wings spread wide and angry. It squawked again, pecking viciously where Morgan and Deirdre were just out of a beak’s range. And perhaps it was the fae in her, all along, that gave her such delight to see the creature struggle where she knew its life was over. And to prolong its death was just a treat, for her. It lifted one long, thin and spindly webbed foot into the air, squawked one last time, and released a final assault of feathers. Deirdre dove in time, pulling Morgan down with her, and in the blue water tainted by plumes of her red blood, surrounded by iron feathers leaving bubbles in their trails, she mouthed ‘you did good’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ and then she winked. Deirdre kicked up and screamed, finally, watching the heron fall over like a lawn ornament in the wind, as though it had never been yelling and fighting. As though it had never lived at all, and certainly not as though it had once tried to kill them. The creature lay unconscious, not dead, and perhaps it was the fae in her that delighted in the promise of something more to be done.

Or, perhaps rather, despite her grinning and winking, her body burned even in the cool water, and rejected being pushed to scream any harder. Or, in spite of her calm appearance, her heart thrummed loud against her chest, and her mind swirled with terror for what screaming in water did to a zombie’s brain. The creature lay unconscious, not dead, because Deirdre feared to do more. She turned to Morgan, weathered and body-heavy; in truth, she might’ve liked to just sleep and let the pool carry her like a leaf in a river to a place that didn’t know the cycles of predator and prey. Perhaps it was the woman in her, the person, that closed her eyes and imagined just that.

Morgan could only stare wildly at her girlfriend as she mouthed her affection, grinning with wicked delight as only she could. Morgan couldn’t remember being more in awe of her, or more frightened of the loss of her. The only words in her head were no, be careful, and don’t go. What if the bird was faster? What if it took her neck in its beak? What if--but Morgan knew better than to say these things, or to imagine anything at all. She clung to the lilly reeds to keep herself down to keep herself from pulling Deirdre back and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long.

The sound shook the water and struck through the depths, keening in fury, in pride. Distorted as it was by the water, the scream still shook something inside Morgan. When it was done, she rose slowly, half dazed, half frightened. “Deirdre?” She called. Her love was floating off into the cattails. The heron was on the ground, suspiciously in one piece.

“Hey--” She swam with her into the shallows and cupped her cheek. “Are you okay? Did it get you again?” She couldn’t tell one set of burns apart from another, and there were so many all over her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with anything better. I kind of panicked. But we can get you dried off and inside, and I’ll get the burn salve and take care of everything…”

Later, when the memory of this day broke past her defenses and replayed itself in her mind, Morgan would not be able to tell if she trailed off because she heard the heron’s wheezing breath, or if her own innate sense of having come up short signaled that something was amiss, or if she simply ran out of things to say, and finally had enough quiet to hear. It trembled through the air, unmistakable, and Morgan stared at the bird’s chest with each shallow, rattling sound.

It was still alive.

“It’s going to wake up eventually, isn’t it?” She whispered, already knowing the answer. Of course it was. And when it did, it would release more feathers, or it would fly away to eat another fae. And what if it found Mina on campus? What if it found Jared on his farm? Morgan stared at the bird, trying to peek into another world where suffering only existed in nightmares, where life thrived in peace. Some place where no creature was put forth to be a menace, to be something that could only take or be taken. But if that place existed, she could not see it; it was not here. And what kind of an idiot was she to think otherwise? Who knew better about the turn of the wheel of life than a cursed witch? Who knew more about the grip of death than a zombie?

“You should get out of the pool before any of the feathers touch you,” she said, climbing up the steps.

She crossed over to the croquet set and picked up one of the mallets from the stand and dragged it over to the heron’s body. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I can’t let you hurt my friends and I’m sorry.” It felt like a long time before she could summon the will to swing the mallet, but when she did, fissures lightninged up the handle and the heron’s skull cracked beneath its poisoned feathers. Morgan swung again.

It was a lake; shielded by thick forest, surrounded by ribbons of wildflowers. The stalks of cattails brushed Deirdre’s skin, balm to the burning that claimed her flesh. It must have been the countryside, the house in her head. It must have existed somewhere where the world would not touch them without permission. It was a lake, and when she opened her eyes, it was Morgan’s glistening face under the light of morning, where the fog that claimed the water had just begun to lift. There must have been a picnic set about in the grass; a book for them to come back to. And a house, cozy but not tiny; she liked to imagine it with red brick. “Did it get you again?” Deirdre blinked; nothing could get them here, didn’t Morgan know? She reached to brush wet strands of Morgan’s hair aside. That would puff out when it dried, surely. In their swampy lake, away from the world. Morgan apologized and Deirdre shook her head, smiling gently as the sun rose behind her. “You’re perfect.” It was a lake. Then it was a pool in the afternoon; their picnic was a croquet game, ruined. Their house was a clean white, and bigger than either of them knew what to do with. Her body was on fire. There was a Stymphalian bird.

Deirdre moved slowly, half in pain and half in mourning for a dream spurred by the fervor of pain. She hadn’t noticed the feathers at all until it occurred to her that the strange tickling cattails were too low to the water, and didn’t tickle so much as they burned--which only felt like tickling against the rest of the burning. Their lake--pool--was covered by an array of them, all having floated to the surface. She rose out of the water, picking a few out of her flesh; there was no imagining them as the hooked burs of her dream wildflowers now. Deirdre dripped blood and water where she moved. It was Morgan’s swinging that woke her up, just as it insured that the bird would never.

“Morgan--” Deirdre rushed to her side, hands on her shoulders; hands at her arms; hands clutching hers, mallet held still and fractured. By the time she got there, the bird was paste on the ground, like roadkill without the road. “You could have ate that.” She said, looking at it. Well, it wasn’t so soiled, maybe it was more like tenderized meat now, and Morgan did enjoy those gummy textures. “Hey,” her voice softened as she pulled the cracked mallet from Morgan’s grip. “It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. What are you thinking?”      

Morgan’s thoughts didn’t come in words, at first. Looking down at the bird, beautifully colored but lean in the chest, maybe malnourished, she could only see the unfairness. When her dad had explained that the universe wasn’t all one thing or another, it sounded like there was something soft or gentle in everything. The wasps that frightened her helped the flowers to grow, the lightning that reminded her of her mother’s yelling improved the atmosphere, the people who were cruel to her sometimes turned kind. She had put that thought away sometimes, when it made her stomach clench with guilt, but she had wanted to believe in it. But looking at this dead, beaten heron, she felt as though there were threads in the universe that were just cruel and when you tripped on them, you had no recourse but to touch some of that cruelty too.

“It only knew how to hurt people,” Morgan whispered. “Hurt fae. Even if I tied it in a sheet and dumped it at the town border, it was just going to eat another fae. And if it came back and hurt you…” She didn’t dare finish the thought and trusted her love to hold the missing piece. “I can take it to my studio to get the rest of the feathers out, so we can do something with the rest, so it doesn’t go to waste. And I’ll...c-clean the pool, before Mina gets back. I don’t want her to…” Morgan’s voice choked on the sorrow she was trying to drown with reason. “I’ve got this. I can take care of the rest.” Her throat filled with water and a sob cracked through her lips. “I just hate this world sometimes. I hate how we can’t just leave each other alone. I hate some of these choices…” She searched for Deirdre’s hand and gripped it tight. Hate them as she might, she didn’t regret any choice that protected Deirdre. She didn’t know if that was best of all or worst, but she  knew it was true.

“Oh, my love,” Deirdre held Morgan close, pulling her tight against her body. The truths of her world were known to her since birth, tales of the food chain were her mother’s idea of a bedtime story. “It’s just an animal, my love. It doesn’t know malice, or prejudice. It doesn’t hurt fae, it doesn’t know what a ‘fae’ is. There’s food and not-food and it can’t help what it was made to eat. Just as you know that it must…” Deirdre trailed off, remembering covers pulled up to her nose, questions she knew better than to voice as her mother held firm in her stories. The little bird ate the grasshopper, the snake ate the bird, an owl swooped down. Life was cyclical, and none immune to death. Deirdre shook her head, and laughed softly at herself. How many times had she heard and parroted the sentiment, how many times had she lived shackled by it? She didn’t care much for things and their places; she wanted Morgan and a lake, in the place where life could be more than its cycles. Deirdre pressed her lips to Morgan’s cheek once, then twice and a third as she held her head to her chest. “Thank you,” she said finally, “for keeping me and my people safe, even though it was hard. Thank you.”

She pressed another kiss to Morgan as she leaned down, using her blood for some good to write a message on the stone. ‘DON’T GO IN THE POOL’. Mina would recognize the bird and know better anyway, whenever she came home. Deirdre rose and kissed Morgan again, and again, trailing to her lips, where she lingered. “Just leave it now, it’s not going anywhere,” she said against them, breath tickling cold flesh. “Don’t you want to come inside with me now? Into our good world? You did what you had to, and that’s okay, come inside with me now. Rest.” She smiled, “and we can handle the rest later. Doesn’t that sound better?” Deirdre pressed closer, determined in her coaxing. “The world is unfair, isn’t it? It’s terrible and chaotic and filled with horrible, complicated choices.” She leaned in. “But it’s also the most wonderful thing, when I get to hold you. When we’re together.” She kissed her, firm and steady. “Let’s go in, my love,” Deirdre breathed, “tell me all about how much you hate the world, sometimes. How much it hurts to make the necessary choices. And love me, let me love you, and let us feel how good the world is too. How good these choices are. Come--” She pulled back, taking Morgan’s hands in hers. “We can experience the world as it is, bad and good; terrible present and hopeful future. And whatever it is you need to do, you can do later, when it all starts to feel a little easier to carry. Come inside, my love. Come with me.”

The heron’s ignorance didn’t make anything better, Morgan wanted to say. That only made the creature innocent and unteachable. It hadn’t been doing anything wrong. And how often did Morgan insist that you shouldn’t judge the way someone was made, the way they needed to survive? The heron’s mistake was flying over Morgan’s yard, in trying to devour Deirdre in front of her. If animals were worth screaming for, that moment must have sealed its fate. How could she do anything less to protect her love? How could she pass on that pain to another fae, knowing what they meant to each other, knowing the grief that would follow?

Morgan shut her eyes and squeezed out the tears that had gathered beneath her lashes. She wrapped her arms around Deirdre and pressed her face as hard as she could into her chest, not minding how it made her feet stumble on the grass and the porch steps. Like this, pressed close with her face mashed in, she could capture the softest whiff of Deirdre’s scent, sweet fruit and musky trees. Like this, the wood and tile beneath her feet transformed into the soft, giving earth of a dream, the sounds of distant cars became the song of a tide that burbled with good memories and longing wishes.

She burrowed into that place they’d first imagined in their letters between wet kisses and long silences. She had thought it abandoned, since she had almost no reason to think about it these days, but under a blanket, cradling herself against her love, she found her way to that shore as if summoned. She saw fear slip through their fingers like silt and sorrow drip away in the lake. Death had no sting and love and love alone colored their sky. Outside, in the true world, the sun sank, the snow melted, and the dead heron’s feathers flitted up and scattered like autumn leaves. But Morgan held fast to her love and stayed in their painless world as long as she could.