#calgary flames drabble
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Matthew Tkachuk #9
I’ve always loved writing Rat Boy (TM) and I’ve always loved writing the awkward neighbor trope so here you go!
Enjoy! :)
Word count: 1005
You were on a mission: retrieve the ball you threw into your neighbor’s backyard. Did you throw the ball a little too hard? Yes. Did you think your dog had superpowers and can jump over the unusually high fence? No.
So now, you had to drag your silly ass next door and force yourself to interact with the neighbor who’s always either on a trip or hosting frat boys on random week days. People shouldn’t judge but you’ve always been wondering who this guy is and what he does. Is he some sort of dealer? How much is he selling his weed for? Would he sell to you if you were nice enough?
Taking a big breath in, you knocked on his door twice. You would have knocked a third time if the door hadn’t opened to reveal a smiling, shirtless, curly-haired, specimen.
How can people say God is fair when he can make someone who looks like that and then make someone who looks like you?
The monster with eight pack abs shifted from one foot to the other, “can I help you?”
Fuck, now you’re staring. Of course, “hi,” you gulped, why do shirtless men make you nervous? Is it the nipples staring at you?
“Yeah?” he asked.
Holy shit, his muscles actually flex when he talks.
“I’m from next door,” how you managed to get that sentence out is a mystery, “and I might have tossed my dog’s ball into your back yard.”
“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “come on in.”
You don’t know many people who would let strangers in just because they said they tossed a ball into the backyard but okay.
“Really?” you laughed, stepping into the threshold, “I could have just said that so I can get in and murder you.” Ugh, brain fart.
You really should learn how to filter words. Mouth, meet muzzle.
“Nah,” he said over his shoulder, motioning for you to follow him, “you weigh what?” he laughed, “I could easily take you and besides,” he shrugged, his back muscles flexing, “I’ve been told I pack a mean punch.”
Judging from the way his back showed muscles you didn’t even know existed and how his ass tightened with every step he took, you easily believed him.
You really shouldn’t objectify men like that. If this were a lady, people would cancel you on Twitter. Just for thinking these thoughts!
You distracted yourself by looking around the house, noting the pool and foosball tables, the video game consoles, and the expensive shoes strewn everywhere. Who is this guy and what does he do?
You hurried behind him, telling him your name. You seem to have forgotten to introduce yourself in the midst of all the muscle flexing and the hair curling.
“I’m Matthew,” he tossed back, stepping out onto his surprisingly well kept yard.
He pointed towards the green ball patiently sitting on a bed of grass. Oh, right, you were for the ball. Ha-ha, you’ve almost forgotten, “is that it?”
“I think so?”
He snickered, jogging over to retrieve it before tossing it back to you.
“I live next door,” you offered when he was finally within earshot, his nipples still kind of distracting you.
“You already said that,” he reminded, crossing his arms over his magnificent chest, god even his arms looked like they had arms, what the hell, “and besides, I see you around sometimes.”
“Huh, really,” you find that hard to believe.
His grin widened, “totally,” he started walking back towards the house, his long legs keeping him at a distance.
Back at the front door, he offered his hand, “nice to finally meet you, neighbor.”
“Nice to finally meet you too,” you managed to push out, settling your hand into his.
Oh wow, the things this hard, calloused hand can do to you.
OMG STOP.
Are you really standing in the middle of your neighbor’s doorway fantasizing about him?
Blame the nipples.
And the abs.
And the super short shorts that shows off his thighs.
And his ass.
And his arms too, while you’re at it.
“You’re staring,” he whispered, taking his hand back.
“Shit,” you murmured, “the nipples,” you pointed out before covering your mouth, mortified.
He laughed so hard his chest actually shook.
“I just said that, didn’t I?” you asked, cheeks starting to heat up.
“You did.”
“Oh god,” you sighed, “I am so so sorry,” you held your hands out, “I did not mean to say it, oh my god. It’s just that, that” you gestured towards his still very naked torso, “is very distracting.”
“Hmm,” he teased, moving his arms enough to flex the muscles once again, “you don’t say.”
“Shut up,” you gaped, “you know it is,” turning, you headed out, “thanks for this,” you told him, lifting the ball, “won’t happen again.”
Eyes laughing, he nodded, “I wouldn’t mind if it did.”
Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind either, if that meant seeing him again. He’s cute and you’re human.
You rolled your eyes at that before starting to walk down the steps, making sure that your hips swayed a little.
Only it might have been swaying too much because the next thing you know, you tripped and your face became all too familiar with the pavement.
Can this get any worse?
“Don’t help me,” you yelled when you heard him run for you.
You’ve never gotten up more quickly in your entire life.
He pulled you up anyway.
How mortifying.
“You okay?” he asked, worry now on his face.
Nodding, you gave him another smile, “how embarrassing was that?”
“Not more embarrassing than having your ass kicked on national television, trust me,” he chuckled.
“I’ll take your word for it. See you around?”
Giving you a thumbs up, he answered, “see you around.”
“Please wear s shirt next time,” you joked.
He gave you a salute, “promise. We don’t want you tripping anymore.”
Oh good Lord. You ran back home.
Only when you slammed your door, you realized: you left the fucking ball.
#Matthew Tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagines#hockey imagines#nhl imagines#drabble#drabbles#imagines#my writing#fanfic#calgary flames
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Never what he seems
A/n: like a drabble I made of dico like a week ago lol. purely for comfort reasons. I just don’t know what to do with it.
you never for a second thought Dico was sweet. He’d always buy some ridiculous gift for absolutely no reason. Or when he would program people’s name in his phone as something horrible like asshole or other colorful words. But then other times he’d just be the sweetest… and you never understood why. Like when he took you to a cky live performance for the first time because he knew how much you loved them. Even blindfolded you and everything. When you got there he gave you a cky shirt to put on, and it seemed to be a special made one. He knew the guys of course, so you met them and everything, and it was just crazy.
Other times he seemed to just have this grin and twinkle in his eyes only reserved for you, or you guess when he was really happy. He had the same look when you surprised him with a Calgary Flames game on an outing the two of you had. You never saw him so excited in your life, he thanked you over and over, saying that was the greatest gift he had ever seen. He didn’t have that look very often while being on camera, if anything he was always pissed off at something.
Or the way he would just give you this side glance, which to anyone else just seemed like a look. But he always stared just a little bit too long so you would get the clue. Or when he would massage your shoulders after a long day of filming and you were just cuddled on the couch. He never seemed to be the romantic type, and to most people he wasn’t. But you would just never forget the way he looked at you, touched you, acted around you. You knew that was a lie, and a big one. You knew he was romantic, just not in the traditional way, more like in an annoying handsome way. It was always better in your opinion, you just loved him.
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if you’re still accepting prompt requests, could you do “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.” (smut) with matty tkachuk? 🥰
This takes place at the Flames Ambassadors’ Celebrity Poker Tournament, a charity event held annually by the team.
Jealous!Matthew x exhibitionist!reader taken from this prompt list
To everyone else you blend in to the sea of people, attire matching that of everyone else. But to Matt you are the only person worth noticing. A thin gold chain dropping below your breast line, legs fully on display.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Matt mutters glancing across the hall. Dealing out some cards to the players at his table he can’t help his eyes from finding you. Teal spaghetti strap top with a deep scoop neck tucked into your tight pencil skirt and a simple pair of black heels.
“Chucky, deal the cards,” Blake groans. Shaking his head Matt begins throwing cards around the table, biting his tongue at the rudeness in his tone. Blake is a long standing season ticket holder with the flames, having had tickets for over twenty years. A prominent man in Calgary, established his wealth in the oil fields before opening up multiple restaurants across the province. He is loud, always cracking jokes, the life of the party. This year he requested Matt’s table, Markstrom warned him that his competitiveness can be overpowering.
“You know this is for charity,” Matt says laughing, a slight smirk on the edge of his lips.
“Still gonna win,” Blake laughs, nudging the guy beside him.
Matt tries to stay attentive to the players in front of him, but he can’t help his eyes from wandering. Watching as you weave through the crowd, looking over the shoulder of a man laughing at something he said. Your laugh is infectious, wide smile and head being thrown back, probably his favourite thing about you.
Your finger gently runs over the rim of your martini glass, gazing to Matt from the corner of your eye. He watches you lean over and whisper something in the man’s ear. His eyes gently skirting over your face, tongue parting his lips.
Flipping the cards on the table a little harshly, Matt can’t help the envy running through his veins. Cracking his neck, he watches your hand ever so subtly run up his black Prada dress shirt.
“Fucking bullshit,” Matt mutters, this time slightly louder than before.
“What’d you say chucky?” Blake queries, examining his cards.
“I said make your bet,” Matt’s blood begins to boil.
He wants to look away from you but he can’t. He watches your hand give his thigh a gentle squeeze, your cherry red lips ghosting over his ear. His nose involuntarily twitches and his lips curl.
“The fuck you doing Matty?” Blake asks. Snapping out of it, he looks down, realizing the players are waiting on him. He doesn’t answer, there is no apology, not even a half smile. But he does put his head down and focuses on the task at hand.
Dealing cards to earn money for charity.
Scanning around the room, Matt sees the crowd has begun to dwindle, only three tables left. His eyes catch the teal satin reflecting off your bodice and he can’t help but stare. He watches you pull your white jacket over your top, watches you step outside with someone else.
“Marky, you take over?” he pulls the passing goalie over by his sleeve.
“Yeah, you alright chuck?”
“Not feeling good, need to get out of here.” Shoving the cards in Jacob’s hand he ignores the objections of the patrons at his table. He ignores the glances of his teammates, he ignores everything.
Grabbing his jacket, he steps out onto the street. A light snowfall blanketing the street, a snowfall that likely will melt by morning. Looking up and down the street he spots your coat. Turning the corner, you smirk at Matt, sending him a devious wink.
Matt’s long strides have him catching up with you almost instantly. That and you slowed your pace, knowing you wouldn’t get far. His large hands easily grips your elbow and he pulls you down a dark alley, away from the crowded streets. Away from the watchful eyes.
The streetlight barely illuminates his face from this distance, but you know he is mad, sensing the rage before you smelt his cologne. “What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, eyes a few inches from his.
“Really?” he scoffs. Gripping your chin he forces you to stare at him, fingers digging into your neck. “You might as well have shoved your tongue down his throat.”
“Who?” you bat your eyelashes continuing to play dumb.
“That prick with ugly cowboy boots and oversized belt buckle that’s clearly compensating for something.”
“Oh Brendan?” You’re playing with fire. But luckily for you, you like it hot.
“He has a name?” Matt’s eyebrow raises, giving your throat a soft squeeze.
“He’s a big fan, said he wants your autograph.”
“That so?” Matt laughs through his rage. “He thinks he can hit on my girl and get rewarded. He’s lucky I don’t knock his teeth in.”
“Matty,” you pout.
“YN,” he warns. “You’re on very thin ice.”
“Good thing I’m dating a hockey player.”
“Good thing I’m dating a hockey player,” he repeats back mockingly, struggling to keep his cool. The hand on your throat tightens, a small croak falling from your slack jaw. Pressing his body against yours the cool brick from the dive bar digs into the back of your exposed thighs.
His eyes narrow as yours go wide, but before you can do anything his lips crash into yours. You can faintly taste the whiskey he had been nursing all night, his tongue forcing its way in.
It’s wet, it’s sloppy, teeth crash against the others your moans getting louder. The hand on your neck relaxes slightly allowing you to take back some control of the kiss. Hands tangling into his curls you feel his hips press forward, further pinning you to the wall.
“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you,” you smirk feeling his erection pressing against your thigh.
“Just you wait until we get home, you’ll see just how motivated I am.” Grabbing your wrist you stumble forward when he gives you a hard tug, dragging you towards his car.
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk fic#matthew tkachuk smut#matthew tkachuk blurb#matthew tkachuk drabble#calgary flames#calgary flames fic#calgary flames smut#calgary flames drabble#my writing#weekend writing#blurb weekend#nhl fic#nhl smut#hockey fic#hockey smut
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Sugar daddy headcanon with the players you project your kinks on??? PLEASE
The Boy with the Cold Hard Cash is Always Mr. Right
Because the better halves deserve something nice for putting up with contract negotiations
Mikko Rantanen
Mikko takes you on a beautiful date. He gets you a beautiful designer cocktail dress that fits you like a glove, a stunning pair of Louboutins, and a new bejewelled clutch. Arranges for makeup artists and hairdressers to come by so you don’t have to lift a finger. Nothing but the best for his baby.
You fit right in at the fanciest restaurant in Denver. Like one of those where you’re really there to be seen since the 12-course tasting menu just means you’re eating foam and specs of food. At the end of the night, Mikko takes you to the drive-thru at Mcdonald’s in his fancy sports car and gets you a Big Mac with extra fries.
Matthew Tkachuk
Matthew takes you on a shopping spree at your favourite upscale department store. The staff get Matthew one of those private dressing suites with couches. He sits there patiently as the personal shopper rolls in racks after racks of lingerie sets. Every colour, every material, you tried it on. Even though the room was private, Matthew was on his best behaviour. He took it no further than taking photos of you in the various sets, ‘for reference’, he claimed. When you get home with your new lingerie wardrobe, you see that Matthew had extra closet space put in for you in his place. There were also various boxes of designer goodies like shoes and handbags covering the floor.
Brock Boeser
Brock is just a selfless guy. So even when he buys stuff, he’s the last person he’s thinking about. Brock considers adopting a second rescue dog to keep you and Coola company while he’s gone. A dog on the older side so you will know it’s personality and if it will be compatible with the three of you. Plus, Brock loves the idea of giving an older dog a new home. With his new contract, he can afford to rent a bigger place closer to the dog park. He also gets Coola more dog toys than he could possibly play with. Of course, an addition to you and Brock’s family means that he needs a larger car. He takes you with him to the luxury car dealership so you can help choose the specifications he’ll need to ensure you and the dogs ride in comfort. He needs something that can take the four of you to the mountains or the beach and all your things.
Laurent Brossoit
Laurent uses his money on experiences with you. Planning beautiful vacations to faraway destinations. They’re not always luxurious. Sometimes it’s you and him taking a road trip or backpacking. The home you two share is full of pictures of you and Laurent on your trips. You guys have one of those scratch-off maps with tons of countries already marked off. On one of your walls, you have a shadow box displaying various travel tickets from your adventures. You have bookshelves full of souvenirs and stacks of travel books for inspiration on where you want to go next. Laurent is a well-dressed man so what he did buy was a beautiful Louis Vuitton travel set for all of the adventures you two could have.
#Anonymous#laurent Brossoit#matthew tkachuk#brock boeser#mikko rantanen#winnipeg jets#calgary flames#vancouver canucks#Colorado Avalanche#hockey writing#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#nhl players#nhl writing#nhl imagines#nhl imagine#nhl one shot#hockey one shot#drabbles#nhl drabbles#hockey drabbles#hockey players
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Matthew Tkachuk: Perfect’s boring
Summary: Due to your depression you keep pushing Matthew away. Can the two of you find your way back to each other.
Word count: 639
Warnings: Mentions of depression, self harm and self sabotage.
You had consistently tried to push Matthew away. Any change you saw, you took it. He needed to be the one breaking up with you.
Your depression had gotten worse over the past couple of months. You didn’t want Matthew to know about it, so you tried very hard to put up a happy face, you covered your scars with concealer or made up a lie if your boyfriend ever saw them.
But you were getting tired. Tired of lying, tired of faking a smile, tired of not being you. So you pushed Matthew away, again and again. Hoping he would eventually put an end to your relationship, so you didn’t have to.
-
“Y/N, we should talk.” Your heart quickened at those words, you really didn’t want to break up, but it would definitely be for the best.
“Sure, what’s up?” “I love you, I really do, but lately I’ve been feeling like we don’t click anymore. Like we’re mostly avoiding each other, rather than being one front.”
“Yeah, I know.” It was the only thing you could say, your throat tightening up, tears threatening to spill.
“I don’t want to take a break, but I think it would be for the best, maybe we could start seeing each other at a later time again, when we’re both more involved.” You wondered if he had practiced those words beforehand. You nodded your head, tears now falling down your face.
“This doesn’t mean it’s the end.” “Okay.” Your voice cracked, knowing full well that ‘breaks’ never end well.
-
You still got asked to team parties, considering you became good friends with most of the guys. “How are you holding up?” Johnny asked softly, the both of you sat in the living room, him being one of the few people who knew of your situation.
“It’s tough, I miss him like crazy, but it’s for the best.” “I don’t know, Y/N, this might be your depression talking.”
“Depression?” Matthew asked softly. You nearly choked on your drink when you heard his voice.
-
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The two of you had decided to go upstairs, so you could have a quiet conversation and discuss this in private.
“Because I didn’t want you to know!”
“I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to know these things! I’m supposed to help you!”
“Were.”
“What?”
“You were my boyfriend.” You clarified.
“This has been going on for months, I should have noticed.” He was talking more to himself than to you, yet you answered anyways. “I’m glad you didn’t and I’m glad you broke up with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t be the girlfriend you deserve.”
“My god, Y/N,” Disbelief crossed his face. “You are so much more than what I deserve. I broke up with you, because I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” He turned around, his back now facing you. He was clearly struggling with all this new information.
“I want to be there for you, through it all, the good and the bad. If you’ll still have me, that is?” The spark in you got awakened once again, but fear dragged you straight back down.
“I don’t know, Matthew, I get really down for days on end, I get these overpowering thoughts that make me think I’m no good to anyone, I have really bad anxiety. I can’t be perfect.”
“Good. ‘Cus I don’t want perfect. Perfect’s boring.” You huffed out a laugh, tears spilling down your cheeks.
“Come here.” You tugged at his sweater, pulling him towards your awaiting lips. He had clearly missed you, because he quickly pushed you up against the door to dominate your kiss.
As scared as you still were, you wanted to see how far the two of you could make it. And damn, did it feel good to finally tell him the truth. Now you could finally be you.
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Fearless- Johnny Gaudreau
A/N: hi hello I’m having Johnny hockey feels so this fucking happened umm yeah okay this is loosely inspired by Fearless by Taylor Swift and we love one smiley boy who loves his dog!! This actually sucks I’m sorry
This is the necklace I mention!!
And the dress sadly doesn’t exsist I just imagined it in my head
This is a good time to mention that he and the reader where childhood friends and have been dating since high school ok cool
Requested: negative
Warnings: swearing fluff poor plot and bad proofreading ya know the usual
Word count: 985
Gif credit: @liasandersson
Enjoy!
(Y/N)’s POV:
I walk into the house and slip off my heels. Bailey trots towards me and I bend down to pet her. "Hey bails." I say as she wags her tail in excitement at the attention. She soon trots away and I walk into the bedroom to see a note laying on the bed. So I pick it up to read it.
"Surprise surprise I'm not home, for now. Follow the trail that I hope our fur child didn't ruin. -Johnny"
I look down to see a trail of ripped up pink post it notes that he definitely took off my desk. The trail leads to the closet. When I open the door and turn on the light I see a dress hung up perfectly in the middle and another note.
"Assuming that Bailey didn't fuck up the trail put this on and be ready by 7, can't tell you where we're going just put it on and be pretty which isn't hard you're always pretty. -J"
"Johnny Hockey what are you doing?" I whisper while smiling at the note and then grabbing the dress. It's a red sparkly dress that's strapless and comes to about mid thigh. This dress singlehandedly is now the most expensive thing in my closet, it was designer and definitely well over a hundred dollars. I slip off the soft tee shirt dress I had worn to work and carefully take the dress off it's hanger. I put it on and zip the zipper as far as it'll go, realizing that the back is very open. "Of course he picks a red dress with an open back." I say looking at our dog. Red had always been his favorite color that I wear, and he always preferred strapless with practically zero material in the back. I admire myself in my mirror at how well the dress fits I realize how familiar this dress is. I had looked at this exact dress at a designer boutique that I had dragged Johnny to months ago. He must have bought the dress knowing how much I loved it. I fiddle with my necklace that he bought me years ago when he was drafted, until I realize it's nearly 7 and I should be ready by now. I look in the mirror and fix my hair and decide that my work make up will have to do. I slip on a pair of heels that match the dress, grab a clutch and my phone and head to the door.
Just as I reach the front door the doorbell rings so I answer it. When I open it I see Johnny standing there, dressed nicely with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. “Red roses for my red hot lady.” He says handing me the flowers. “Oh that was so bad, let me put these in water and we can leave.” I say with a smile as he comes in shuts the door and follows me. I cut the stems of the flowers and place them in the vase that is partially filled with water.
I go over to Johnny and lace our hands together and lead us to the front door. “So where we going?” I ask him as we leave. “Ah that’s for me to know and you to find out.” He says with a smile. We get in the car and drive to the mystery destination. Johnny parks the car, gets out and then comes to open my door. “Thank you.” I say as he helps me out “anything for my lady.” He says grabbing my hand and leading me to the restaurant. It was an extremely exclusive and fancy restaurant. “How did you pull this off?” I ask “Magic.” He says while doing jazz hands causing me to laugh. We go inside and are seated immediately for our meal.
*after dinner because who writes about eating*
“Johnny it’s pouring outside.” I say as we go to leave. “It’s fine that’s fine this is fine just come on.” He says taking my hand and leading me out into the rain. The water glistens on the pavement under the lights of the street and the moon, it’s breathtakingly beautiful in an odd way. I stop walking and Johnny looks at me like I’m crazy. “What are you doing?” He yells over the rain “you’re going to get sick.” He yells again “dance with me” I say. “I’m sorry what now?” He say stepping closer to me. “Dance with me, no ones out here.” I say with a smile. “In the middle of this rain? God you’re actually crazy.” He says taking my hand and pulling me towards him. We move our feet in sync as we dance around the empty parking lot. “I’m ruining the dress I am so sorry.” I say looking at my smiling boyfriend. “Don’t be its called the dry cleaners.” He says smiling back at me “you’re crazy Gaudreau did you know that?” I ask him with a big smile. “Yeah I did just a little bit but I’m fearless with you.” He says as he pulls me in for a kiss. It’s a soft and passionate kiss while the rain continues to pour down from the sky. We pull away and stare at each other while we catch our breaths. “You’re crazy matches my crazy Gaudreau but with that crazy comes the fearlessness that we have together.” I say with a smile. “I’m glad we go together like crazy puzzle pieces because there’s no one else I’d rather dance with in the rain in a parking lot.” He says pressing his lips against mine for another kiss while there’s a crack of thunder behind us. “Ok this was fun but I don’t want to die.” I say running towards the car. “Way to run the moment babe!” He yells back following me to take shelter in the car.
#johnny gaudreau#hockey#nhl#thundersstruck masterlist#calgary flames#johnny gaudreau imagine#hockey imagines#hockey fanfiction#hockey one shot#hockey drabble#nhl imagines#nhl fanfiction#nhl one shot#nhl drabble
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Pacific Division (General Fic Stuff)
Anaheim Ducks: What fandom got you into fic?
Calgary Flames: Do you read wips?
Edmonton Oilers: What pairing(s) have you read pretty much every fic for?
Los Angeles Kings: Drabble, one shot, mid-length (10-20k), long fic (20-50k), or looooong fic (50k+)?
San Jose Sharks: How many fic tabs do you have open right now?
Seattle Kraken: What trope(s) will get an automatic click?
Vancouver Canucks: Do you read fic in other fandoms? If so, which ones?
Vegas Golden Knights: What trope(s) is/are your guilty pleasure?
Metro Division (Fics You Read)
Carolina Hurricanes: What fic(s) is/are your go-to when you want to curl up in a warm blanket by the fire?
Columbus Blue Jackets: What fic(s) is/are your go-to when you’re in your sad feels?
New Jersey Devils: What’s a fic that made you laugh?
New York Islanders: What fic(s) live(s) rent-free in your head?
New York Rangers: What fic(s) were you not sure about but then you read and absolutely loved?
Philadelphia Flyers: What’s a fic where you loved the setting?
Pittsburgh Penguins: What’s a fic that you would watch as a feature film?
Washington Capitals: What were some of the first fics you read in the fandom?
Atlantic Division (Fics You’ve Written)
Boston Bruins: What is your favorite scene from [insert fic]?
Buffalo Sabres: Have you ever been surprised by one of your own works?
Detroit Red Wings: What would a sequel to [insert fic] look like?
Florida Panthers: What’s your favorite behind the scenes idea that never actually made it into a fic?
Montreal Canadiens: What part of [insert fic] was the hardest and/or easiest to write?
Ottawa Senators: What is your favorite line from [insert fic]?
Tampa Bay Lightning: What inspired [insert fic]?
Toronto Maple Leafs: Which fic is your most self-indulgent?
Central Division (Fics You’re Currently Writing)
Note: Authors get to pick the wip they talk about!
Arizona Coyotes: Where does [insert word] appear in the wip?
Chicago Blackhawks: How did you come up with the idea?
Colorado Avalanche: What’s something that excites you about your current WIP?
Dallas Stars: What is the last thing you looked up for a wip?
Minnesota Wild: Is the wip canon compliant, canon divergent, or alternate universe?
Nashville Predators: What wip will you probably never finish?
St. Louis Blues: Describe the wip in exactly 16 words.
Winnipeg Jets: How many wips do you have? (This includes everything from vague ideas to half-written fics.)
Also, shoutout to @mattdrai for their help coming up with questions!!
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Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒
CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. ̲𝖳̲𝗁̲𝗂̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖼̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗉̲𝗍̲𝖾̲𝗋̲ ̲𝗌̲𝗉̲𝖾̲𝖼̲𝗂̲𝖿̲𝗂̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗅̲𝗒̲ ̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗆̲𝖾̲𝗇̲𝗍̲𝗂̲𝗈̲𝗇̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝖽̲𝖾̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗐̲𝗂̲𝗍̲𝗁̲ ̲𝗍̲𝗋̲𝖺̲𝗎̲𝗆̲𝖺̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝗂̲𝗇̲𝗀̲ ̲𝖿̲𝗋̲𝗈̲𝗆̲ ̲𝗆̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝖺̲𝗀̲𝖾̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝗌̲𝖾̲𝗑̲𝗎̲𝖺̲𝗅̲ ̲𝖺̲𝖻̲𝗎̲𝗌̲𝖾̲.̲ Please be warned.
Word Count: 15,503
A/N: I have been loving your feedback on this story so far. Your canon question about Matthew and Effie are great and I would love to hear and answer more. It means the world to me that a plot this...unconventional, let’s say, is really taking hold and generating interest. I know that there’s some really, really serious stuff dealt with in the chapters, so I appreciate everyone’s feedback and maturity about it. As always, please check the content warning for this chapter. Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys the update!
* * * * *
She wrote every message on Instagram like an email, and Matthew couldn’t get enough of it.
Hello Matthew,
Today was interesting. I started classes for my business certificate today. I sat in a room with about 50 other people and I listened to my professor speak about the course prospectus and what we would be learning and doing. I didn’t meet any new people or make any new friends but that’s okay. I want to focus on my studies. I already have homework.
How has St. Louis been? I bet you are excited to be back home. I hope you are relaxing and staying safe.
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
I know you are going to ace that program, Effie. You’re very talented and smart and it’ll be no time until you find yourself with a certificate and able to explore more job opportunities.
St. Louis is good. Brady and Taryn are home too so it’s good to be surrounded by family. I know it’s not the same for you but one day I think you will find a group of friends that will make up your family. Most days I go golfing with my dad. I usually relax by our pool too, or play basketball or some other sport with Brady. I go to the gym too, to keep up on my fitness for next season.
*
Hello Matthew,
Class was good today. We started the beginning lectures. The professor went quickly but I was able to keep up. I’m definitely learning how to type fast on my laptop!
You said in your message that I’m very talented but I don’t think I’m talented. I’m maybe talented at some things like baking, but I don’t think I’m talented in much else. Talents are developed over time and I was never given the opportunity to develop anything because I was expected to be a good wife, tend to children, and read the Bible. Sometimes I think about if I could have been a piano player or a singer or something creative. Maybe I could have been a writer like Geneviève if I was given the opportunity young, but I wasn’t. But that’s okay. I am trying to make my peace with it. I will develop what I have now and try to use it for good.
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
Nobody bakes like you, Effie. Please don’t think you are not talented, because you are. I know you weren’t able to develop anything like you said, but you can still find your talents now. You’re still young! You’re only entering your 20s in a few weeks. You can do whatever you set your mind to.
*
Hi Matthew,
Levi and Jenna took me to the mall again today. We bought some new clothes that fit me better and aren’t so baggy. They look really nice. I even bought a dress that falls right at my knee. Can you believe it?! I never thought I’d wear something like that. I never thought anybody else would be able to see my legs! It’s a very weird feeling but it’s a very pretty dress. Jenna said I should wear it for my birthday and I think I’m going to do it. Do you want to see it? I can send you a picture of it if you want.
I checked the weather in St. Louis and saw there was a big thunderstorm. I hope you weren’t caught it in or anything. I can’t imagine your curly hair getting wet in the rain and what it would look like.
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
What are you trying to say about my hair??????????
I would love to see your dress. I bet it looks great on you. And you will need to send me pictures of you wearing it on your birthday.
*
They happened daily. Usually sometime after dinner, when Matthew knew Effie had just finished eating and was either winding down for the night or preparing to do homework. Every day, he waited for the message. And every day, he’d grab his phone the second he heard the notification, not bothering to wait, and read the message eagerly.
***
Matthew found himself at a raucous house party, one that could have been characteristic of any stereotypical college experience or American movie trying to depict a traditional American life. It felt like it was straight out of the American Pie movies. A friend of his was hosting, and there was everything – beer kegs, jungle juice, trashed guys jumping into the pool, music blasting so loud Matthew almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts, girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys at the party not paying attention to them.
Hot girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys – he and Brady – not paying attention to them.
Brady was taken and accounted for – Emma was great and Matthew loved her, even though he saw her only sparingly – and so most of the attention tonight was placed on Matthew. He was the shiny new toy every time he came back to St. Louis in the summers – well, shiny always, but new not so much. Nothing was new about him being in St. Louis in the summer, but everybody always treated is as such a big deal because he spent most of the year in Calgary. That’s why attention was always on him, especially at parties like this. That’s why everybody wanted to talk to him. That’s why all the girls wanted to talk to him. Matthew didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to enjoy his night with his buddies, drinking beer and chatting them all up.
That was…until Leah made an appearance.
Leah, a girl. Leah, a girl he would hook up with in the summers…occasionally. Sporadically. Like, once a summer when he was back. Maybe twice. She’d always show up everywhere and smile and be nice. And when Matthew was tipsy, or just a little bit drunk, he’d think ‘What the hell’ and let the night take him where it wanted to take him.
Just like now.
“Hey Matty,” she cooed, smiling as she always did and biting the bottom of her lip. She went in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He could swear she spilled some of her jungle juice on his neck.
“Hey Leah,” he said, his lips in a tight smile as she pulled away. She was wearing a frilly crocheted top and cut-off denim shorts. She looked hot. Any guy at the party would have wanted to hook up with her. “How are you?”
“Better now that I see you,” her flirting was automatic. “How long have you been back for?”
“A few weeks,” Matthew shrugged his shoulders.
“And no call or text? Ouch, Matty.”
“You always show up places,” he found himself saying, feeling his lips curve into a smirk. “Didn’t think I needed to call.”
“Well then maybe I should have sent you a text.”
The party went on. Matthew hung out with his buddies and talked up a storm. Everybody got a kick out of his hockey stories and were practically begging for more. He’d catch Leah staring at him from a few friend groups away where she stayed with her girlfriends, or from across the backyard or something, and she’d always bite her lip and flutter her eyelashes. The beers kept pouring down his throat and he noticed her get closer and closer until she wiggled her way in with her friends. It probably took a while, but in Matthew’s mind, it felt like it was only a minute until she was right in front of him, red solo cup in her hand.
“Have you tried the jungle juice?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking beer all night.”
“Come get some inside with me,” she said, already grabbing his hand. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pulled him as he staggered behind her, almost tripping on the steps of the patio and while walking through the screen door. When they finally got to the kitchen, Leah looked over her shoulder and winked before tugging Matthew nearer to her body. She spun around in front of the jungle juice to pour some more into her cup. When she did, Matthew could feel her ass up against his groin. He felt like he was going to pass out from the beer.
“Did you miss me, Matty?” she asked as she looked at him over her shoulder again.
“I miss everyone in St. Louis,” he replied.
Leah apparently didn’t like that response, because she grinded her ass up against his groin even harder now. “Don’t say that,” she cooed. “I know you miss me. It’s not like there’s anybody in Calgary like me.”
Matthew hummed. She was right. There wasn’t anybody like her in Calgary.
Effie was nothing like her.
Matthew’s stomach twisted as images of Effie flooded his mind. The first one that came was the day he had picked her up at the hairdresser’s when she’d chopped off all her hair. She looked so cute, and he remembered how bashful he was. Then came the image of her sitting on another couch watching Little Women intently, at least fifteen bags of candy spread out on the coffee table of Levi’s basement. She was so into watching the movie, and he was so into watching her. Then came the image of her face, sweet and innocent and beautiful – the last face he saw in Calgary before heading to the airport and boarding a plane to St. Louis. “No,” he mumbled out, half-drunk and heart aching.
“No,” Leah repeated with a smile on her face, turning around finally to face him before trailing her finger down his chest and letting in linger on the hem of his jeans. “There’s nobody in Calgary like me.”
He furrowed his brows. He wanted out, but his feet felt like cement. They always were when he was on the edge of being drunk. He gulped. “Where’s Brady?”
“Come with me, Matty,” she tugged at his jeans before grabbing his hands again and dragging him through the house. She kept looking over her shoulder to smile at him and he kept looking back towards the backyard. “I know what you need.”
She led him down a hallway, and at the end of that hallway was the bathroom. She turned on the light and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them and locking it. She looked at him suggestively when the click filled the air. “Le—”
“Shhh…” she pressed her finger against his lips to shut him up, replacing them quickly with her lips as she began to kiss him.
Matthew closed his eyes.
These weren’t Effie’s lips.
She was kissing his neck now, and had backed him into the sink so he could lean against it. Her hands wandered down to the button and zipper of his jeans. Suddenly, she dipped down and was on her knees in front of him. “Want me to suck you off, Matty?”
“N—No,” he stuttered out, looking down at her. Matthew felt the zipper being pushed down and her hand on his groin.
“You can come down my throat,” she offered.
He closed his eyes tightly, and in the darkness, he saw only one person: Effie.
The only thing that brought him back – because he could have stayed alone in the bathroom with his eyes closed and the image of Effie in his mind for the rest of the God damn party if he really wanted to – was the sound of his zipper being pushed down dramatically. He opened his eyes. “Would you stop?!” he demanded, wiggling out of where he’d been backed into the sink. He grabbed the front of his pants and zipped them up again.
Leah, still on her knees, spun around and glared at him. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she got up slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You have someone in Calgary?” she demanded.
Matthew refused to answer as he did up his button.
“Who the fuck is she?” she demanded again.
“There’s nobody.”
“Fucking hell there’s nobody. What’s her name?”
“Don’t go there, Leah. As if I’d tell you.”
“You’re fucking someone in Calgary? Since when?”
“As if I’d tell you,” he repeated.
She gave him one last glare because unlocking the door. “Fuck you Matthew Tkachuk. You’ll fucking miss me.”
“Doubt it.”
***
Hi Matthew,
I went to a Starbucks today to work on some school work and people watch. When you get back to Calgary, we will need to find a new Starbucks because the one near Levi’s house is too far away now. Anyway, I was working on an assignment and watching people interact and go about their daily lives. It was eye-opening and a bit weird to me. A lot of people were on their phones! It makes me wonder if I should be on it more…? A lot of the girls who walked in were really fashionable and it makes me want to go shopping again. I don’t think I’ll ever look as good as Geneviève or Annica but I could definitely try, and they could help me. I learn a lot by people watching. Does that make me weird?
I had a Zoom call with Geneviève and Jacob in Sweden. She is doing well and helped me with my assignment a little bit. I’ve been baking shortbread recently, and I’m going to make butter tarts tomorrow. I miss you being my taste-tester, but I bet you are happy to have home cooking. Sometimes I wonder if my siblings miss my cooking but I doubt they do.
Did you think I was weird when I said I didn’t miss my family at all?
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
I do not think you are weird at all for not missing your family. They were abusive. You have no reason to miss them.
People are addicted to their phones these days, which is why you’re so refreshing. You’re not a slave to it…at least yet lol. I hurt my eyes sometimes from staring at my screen too long.
I can’t wait to eat ALL of your baking when I get back. It’s the best, Effie. It really is.
I miss you a lot.
*
Hi Matthew,
I miss you too.
Thank you for not thinking I’m weird for not missing my family.
I’ve been watching a lot of movies and listening to a lot of music. I’ve been researching what’s been popular since I was born and I’m trying to, like, catch up I guess. Some of the movies I don’t like or don’t get. Some of them are really funny, and I watched them because I know people quote them all the time. Like this movie called Bridesmaids. I want to be able to get references people make even though I wasn’t in the moment of them. There are some movies I’ve read about online that seem amazing, but I don’t want to watch them alone. They are:
Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind
Moonlight
There Will Be Blood
Shoplifters
Brokeback Mountain
The Master
Unorthodox
When you come back to Calgary, would you watch them all with me?
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
Of course I’ll watch them all with you.
***
Effie Schaffer woke up the morning of her 20th birthday, on July 7, 2021, to her phone ringing. Birthdays were not a thing in the People’s Dominion of Christ. They were not celebrated. Effie always knew when hers was, but as a kid she never had a birthday party, and when she was forced to marry the prophet, she hated her birthday. Hated it. She always wished that the prophet would forget about it but he never did. It was the one day of the year she spent the most time praying, and when she was not praying, she was with the prophet on his demand. Several weeks later, usually, after a lot of blood loss and visit from the cult’s midwife (though she wasn’t properly medically trained), Abraham would tell Effie that everything was her fault, that God was testing him when He spoke to Abraham and told him to take Effie as his wife. “July 7. 7/7. One number above the Devil,” he’d tell her. “That’s what you are. Just above the devil. Your blood and your loss are the signs of having the devil in you. That’s why you refuse to carry my Son of God.”
She wasn’t expecting anybody to call besides Levi and Jenna, but they said they would be picking her up at noon anyway. After she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up in bed a little bit, she was pleasantly surprised, albeit a little shocked, to see Matthew’s name flash across the screen. The giant FaceTime text was at the bottom of screen. Effie swiped to answer. After a bit of lagging, Matthew’s smiling face appeared. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” he screamed, loudly, causing her to jump slightly.
“Thank you, Matthew,” she said, her heartbeat going back to normal.
“How does it feel to officially be in your twenties?” he asked.
Effie could barely think, so she shrugged. “When I wake up and my brain starts working, I’ll tell you.”
Matthew furrowed his brows. It was only then that he noticed half of her hair in a scrunchie and the pillows behind her head. “Oh shit, I fucked up time zones, didn’t I?” he asked worriedly. “What time is it there?”
Effie looked at her watch. “It’s 7:30 in the morning.”
“I woke you up! Jesus Effie, I’m so sorry,” he began to apologize. “I’m such an idiot—”
“It’s okay, Matthew,” she said, smiling at how his own smile had faded from his face when he realized he had woken her up early. 7:30 in the morning would have been a godsend two years ago, when she usually woke up at 5:30. “It’s nice to be woken up by your voice on my birthday, actually. Someone is at least treating it like a birthday.”
“Levi’s gonna treat you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Levi wouldn’t.
“I know,” she said. “I mean, like…before. Birthdays weren’t exactly a celebration.”
“You never used to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, thinking back to all the amazing birthdays his parents had thrown he and his siblings over the years. Because his was so close to Christmas, it was extra special. His parents always made sure Christmas didn’t overshadow it too much. Same with Taryn being born on Halloween. Brady’s parties were always good too because they were right after the start of school, so usually the entire class would be invited.
“No,” Effie shook her head. Matthew was sort of waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed like she didn’t want to. He left it at that. “Levi’s taking me to that steakhouse we went to for Noah’s birthday,” she informed him. “I think I’m gonna have another tomahawk.”
Matthew smiled again. “Please do, in honour of me.”
“Maybe I’ll take a picture of it to show you what you’re missing.”
“Believe me, I know what I’m missing,” he said. He bit his lip, wondering for a quick second if he should tell her about the gifts coming her way. He quickly decided against it, thinking it would be better left as a surprise. “I’m sorry I can’t be there, Effie.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Matthew,” she told him, meaning it sincerely. “It’s an amazing thing that you’re so close to them. I…believe me, I know how important that is…to be able to have people who love you unconditionally, to be able to have people who love you and want to see you and always have your best interests at heart. I would never want to take that away from you. And besides, when we watch all those movies together…you’ll be there. We’ll be reunited.”
He licked his lips, nodding quickly. “You bet.”
***
Matthew had been lying around the house all day after playing a round of golf with his dad that morning. He’d tanned by the pool with Taryn and ate straight from the bag of Veggie Straws, but he was pretty glued to his phone because he wanted to see the delivery updates for the gifts he’d gotten Effie for her birthday.
The first gift was a giant bouquet of flowers. Peonies, mostly, of course, because of her tattoo, set in a beautiful vase. He’d gotten the delivery notification, then about five minutes later he’d received a picture of it from Effie over Instagram saying thank you. Fifteen minutes later, she uploaded a photo of it to her Instagram feed and tagged him. ‘Beautiful bouquet of peonies from my friend Matthew! I am twenty years old today.’ was her caption. That was the first gift.
The second was a delivery of some cookies from an amazing bakery in Calgary that Annica and Geneviève always ordered from. The cookies were divine, but realistically, they weren’t better than Effie’s cookies. But Effie making cookies for her own birthday wasn’t exactly a gift, so he knew he’d have to order her a batch. Again, he’d gotten the notification that the cookies had been delivered, and ten minutes later, Effie had sent a selfie of her with one of the chocolate chip cookies. ‘Yum!’ she’d texted with the photo. Another notification on Instagram told him Effie had uploaded another photo and tagged him in it. ‘My friend Matthew gave me cookies too! How sweet! Cookies are some of my favourite treats.’ He absolutely loved her feed and the way she used Instagram. If he had to delete everyone else and just follow her, he’d do it.
The last gift was the trickiest. He didn’t know how she’d react. But she didn’t have one of her own – she’d been borrowing Jenna’s – and she needed one, quite literally, for her job. He wondered if she’d like the colour. And the make. And all the attachments.
A ‘MATTHEW, YOU DIDN’T’ text suddenly came through on his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. It was the first time it didn’t sound like an email.
Do u like it? he texted back.
I LOVE IT
IN THE PISTACHIO TOO
MY FAVOURITE COLOUR
AND THE SIFTER ATTACHMENT
AND THE ICE CREAM MAKER ATTACHMENT
MATTHEW!
Im happy u like it!
Now u can bake all you want and not have to borrow Jenna’s
“Taryn, mom needs you inside to help with something,” Brady’s voice boomed through the silence of the backyard. Matthew heard the screen door burst open, and watched conspicuously through his sunglasses as Brady more or less barged towards them.
“Can she wait?” Taryn didn’t make any effort to move.
“Now Taryn. She seems pretty adamant,” Brady didn’t give up, his tone serious as he continued to walk towards them.
Taryn grumbled and got up from her seat. Matthew locked his phone and pretended not to care, even when Brady took Taryn’s place in her lawn chair right beside him and didn’t bother lying down. Instead, he sat facing Matthew, elbows on his knees and hands joined together, like he was a cop about to interrogate his brother. “Who’s in Calgary?”
Matthew looked over at him. “Huh?”
“Who’s in Calgary?” Brady asked again.
Matthew was confused. “G…Gio?” he asked.
“Who’s in Calgary that made you not hook up with Leah at the party?”
Matthew’s heart dropped in the pit of his stomach. For fuck sakes. He sighed deeply and took off his sunglasses, trying to make it seem like everything was being blown out of proportion when, really, Matthew just didn’t want people knowing. But he told Brady everything – everything. He was sort of impressed that the secret had lasted this long, if he was being honest. “Brady…” he began, his voice low.
Brady took off his sunglasses too. “There’s a girl.”
“Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“It’s complicated? What’s her name?”
Matthew thought about not telling him, but there was no point. Brady would find out eventually, and Matthew would rather Brady learn the news from him than from the rumour mill or from Leah stalking his social media. “It’s…Effie.”
“Effie?”
“Who’s Effie?” Taryn voice boomed. The boys whipped their head to see her standing at their family room’s sliding doors, hiding behind the screen door.
“Taryn!” both brothers yelled at their sister.
“Effie? Who’s Effie?” Chantal called out from the kitchen.
“What’s an Effie?” Keith asked from beside Chantal.
“Oh my GOD this is a disaster!” Matthew screamed out in frustration. “Get out of here, Taryn!”
“Who’s Effie?” Brady demanded once more.
Matthew put his heads in his hands dramatically before giving up. There was no way he was going to get out of this. Now his whole family would know. It would be a game of telephone, and by the end of his and Brady’s conversation, Keith would hear Matthew married a girl named Jessie who’d grown up in a hut. “You remember me talking about one of our physio guys? Levi Schaffer?” Matthew asked. Brady nodded. “His younger sister.”
Brady furrowed his brows. “Isn’t Levi in his thirties? You’re dating an older woman, Matthew?”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “No, you dolt. She’s fifteen years younger than he is.”
“SHE’S FIFTEEN?!”
“WHAT?!” Taryn screamed from the screen door again.
“AAAAAAARGHHHH!” Matthew screamed in absolute frustration. “You are literally the dumbest person alive, you know that right?!” he screamed at Brady.
“Matthew! Apologize to your brother!” Chantal called from the house, opening the screen door and stepping through into the backyard with Keith.
“But mom! He’s an idiot!”
“Matthew,” Keith’s voice bellowed. “Now.”
“Sorry,” Matthew grumbled. His parents always made the siblings do this stuff, ever since they were kids. “Can we just drop it all?” he asked.
“Nope. We’re all here now,” Brady said. “Who’s Effie?”
Matthew sighed heavily. “She’s a girl I met through my friend Levi at work.”
“What’s the big deal? Are you dating her?” Keith asked.
“No,” Matthew answered immediately, shaking his head. “No. We’re not dating. Not at all. She…” he began, trying to find the right words.
“She…” Brady egged on.
“She’s a bit…” Matthew began again. How was he going to tell them? How was he gonna word it? Should he sugar coat it or just come out and say it? “She’s a bit…different. She…she and Levi grew up in one of those, like, religious cults, out in rural Alberta. But a year and a half ago, she escaped, and she’s been trying to adjust to the real world ever since. I met her in January, at Noah’s birthday. And ever since, I’ve just been, like…helping her experience the normal world.”
The entire Tkachuk family was silent as they processed the information. They were definitely expecting a much different explanation from Matthew, that was for sure. “A religious cult, Matthew?” Chantal was the first to speak. Matthew nodded his head. Chantal grew serious. “Was she abused?”
Matthew hesitated, but he eventually nodded his head. It wasn’t his business to tell – he knew that – but he couldn’t lie to his own mother. “She could only wear dresses. She had to read the Bible all day. She was married at fourteen to the leader of the cult who was 55. That sort of thing,” he explained briefly, not wanting to give any more details.
Chantal looked concerned. Keith looked at his wife before looking back at his son. “So you’re not dating her, but you’re helping her learn about the real world,” Keith clarified. Matthew nodded again. Keith looked at Brady. “Then that’s none of our business! What’s the big deal?” he huffed.
“It’s not—”
“Why’re you busting his balls then?”
“Keith!” Chantal chastised.
***
Hi Matthew,
I still can’t believe you got me the stand mixer. I love it so much. It’s the only thing that I have out on my countertop because there’s no reason to hide it. And the pistachio colour is sooooooo beautiful. I promise that as a token of appreciation, I’m going to bake you whatever sweets you want when you get back to Calgary. Seriously. Anything you want. Even if I haven’t made it before. And I’ll make ice cream too!
I have been taking some walks around Calgary in my spare time. It’s a really beautiful city. Sometimes I will do my walks at night and see all the young people out at restaurants and bars and all the light are lit up downtown, and it’s even more beautiful. It’s so nice to see life in people. Everybody in the cult was so miserable. Maybe I’m just saying that because I was so miserable, but that’s how I remember it. Nobody was happy about life. Well, they weren’t happy about life like the people in downtown Calgary are on a Friday or Saturday night.
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
Calgary is definitely a beautiful city, and I’m happy that you’re starting to see that. Wait until you see even more of the country and the world one day! All of those young people that you see out and about are your age. I know you are probably very nervous to make new friends, but if you ever want to go out to one of those places, I’m sure Levi or Jenna would take you. When the team gets back into the city, I know any of the guys would take you too, just like when we went out for Andrew’s birthday. You just let us know when. And I apologize in advance for Noah’s behaviour.
I’m going to put in a request for snickerdoodles. My mom used to make them a lot growing up, but she doesn’t make them as much now because then I’d eat them all and get too pudgy.
*
Hi Matthew,
Snickerdoodles it is. I will perfect the recipe before you come back.
On top of movies, I’ve also been listening to music. Levi lets me use his Spotify. He also told me what an iPod is…was. Have you heard of Adele? She’s amazing! I love her voice. Most of the time I just let Spotify recommend me things and I end up liking them, but Levi introduced me to some bands too. Have you heard of Bruce Springsteen? Taylor Swift? The Tragically Hip? Red Hot Chili Peppers? They’re all so good. Red Hot Chili Peppers is Levi’s favourite band. I also really like listening to Coldplay. I think they’re my favourite out of all of them. But I also like dancing songs, like the songs that have a good beat. I wasn’t allowed to dance before (it was too sensual and would tempt the men) so now I feel like I should let it all out.
Sincerely,
Effie Schaffer
Dance your heart out Effie. Fuck them.
Fuck them.
***
Matthew was antsy. Antsy. The second the plane landed in Calgary, his leg was bobbing up and down to get off the plane, grab his bags, and go straight to Effie’s apartment.
It was the first time since he had lived in Calgary that he wanted to go anywhere but his apartment after a flight back to the city. But Effie had that effect on him these days. He hadn’t seen her in three months – almost four. And he was dying to. FaceTimes and Instagram-messages-formatted-as-emails could only do so much, and satisfy so much in his mind. He needed to see her, physically see her. He didn’t know what had happened to him in the past few months, especially since he and Effie had left on such a good note. No need to rush things. Take the time. But this entire summer, all Matthew could think about was her. All he dreamt about was her. He wondered if it was the same for her too. And he wondered, if it was, if she would admit it.
Once he got his bags from baggage claim, he hightailed it out of the airport and got into a taxi. He gave the driver Effie’s address, and within half an hour, he found himself with his suitcases at the foot of her apartment.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t think this through.
He hauled both of his suitcases up the staircase, most definitely putting chips in the wood steps along the way. It reminded him of moving her in to the place months ago, with him yelling at Sean for half of the day but ending with a slice of pie and his first kiss from Effie. He didn’t know what to expect now, but he knew that whatever he’d get, he’d be happy with. He knocked on her door and waited.
When Effie opened it, she looked confused because she wasn’t expecting anybody. But the second she saw Matthew’s face, her face lit up like a night show of fireworks. “Matthew!” she squealed, jumping on him and wrapping her arms tightly around his broad shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing here?! You weren’t supposed to be back in Calgary for a few days!” the shock was still evident in her voice.
“Just thought I’d take an earlier flight out,” he said casually. “Gonna need to customize to the time change anyway.”
As if an hour was going to be a big shock to his system.
When Effie pulled away, she still kept her hands on his shoulders and he kept his hands at her waist. She’d gained more weight throughout the summer, thankfully, and filled out more. The pair of jeans she was wearing actually fit. The top she was wearing actually fit too – a simple navy-striped long sleeve. He was happy to see that. She’d been so frail when he met her in January. She looked like she had life in her now. “Have you even gone home?” she asked, looking down at his suitcases behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Uh…no,” he said awkwardly. “Can I bring them in? I just wanted to see you.”
Effie couldn’t help but gulp at his words. “I just wanted to see you.” Nobody had ever said those words to her before – not even her own mother, she thought. Nobody was ever happy to see her in the cult. But in the real world, Matthew was. “Yeah, come in,” she said, moving to remove her hands from his shoulders to give him more space to haul his suitcases into her entrance. He closed the door behind him when he was done, and that’s when the reality snapped back into Effie’s mind. “Oh no!” she exclaimed worriedly.
Matthew automatically got worried too. “Oh no what?”
“You came home early and I—I didn’t make your snickerdoodles!”
A smile automatically appeared on his face. “Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly, slipping off his shoes. “It’s not like I told you I was coming back to Calgary.”
The worried look didn’t leave her face. “Are you sure? I—I didn’t mean to forget. I actually made one batch but I thought they could be better for you so I was going to make another and—”
“Effie,” he said sternly, placing a hand over hers, which had bunched together nervously. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” she asked one more time.
“I’m positive,” he squeezed her hands gently. “Just gives me another excuse to come over again in a few days, really.”
A small smile crept on Effie’s face as she realized Matthew wasn’t angry. Usually, when something like this happened, the outcome was much different. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore. “Well come in then, come in,” she said, moving further into her apartment so Matthew could follow her. “D’you want something to drink?” she asked, already opening up her fridge.
“Tell me what you’ve been learning in school,” Matthew said instead, leaning against it. “I want to hear everything I missed.”
Effie couldn’t stop talking after that. They had managed to migrate to her couch and she told him about her courses and teachers and homework and assignments and textbooks and her new computer and the classroom and the building and the campus and the Starbucks on campus and the cafeteria she’d eat in and the vending machine she’d buy snacks from and the bench she’d sit on waiting for class and everything. Everything. There was nothing she didn’t talk about. And he listened to it all, listened to all of it intently, not interrupting once, asking follow-up questions and asking her for more more more more more. He couldn’t get enough. He forgot about his water. He forgot about the homemade Rice Krispie she gave him on a plate on her coffee table. He forgot that he was going to suggest they go out to a Starbucks. He forgot that he hadn’t seen her in months and was so desperate to see her that he came here before he even went to his own apartment. All he could think about was here, and all he could pay attention to was what she was saying.
He wanted it like this all the time.
“How’s therapy going?” he asked, finally remembering his water and taking a quick sip from his glass.
“I’m seeing a sex therapist now too.”
That was a bombshell. Matthew tried not to make it show that he was shocked at the news, but she’d said it so casually – like everyone saw a sex therapist. And, like, a therapist was one thing, but a sex therapist was another. He understood why she’d need one, but it was still a shock to him. “Oh yeah?” he tried to say casually.
Effie nodded her head. “I told Dr. Barlow how we’d been kissing,” she said, biting her lip and blushing slightly. “And, um…well, I told her some other things, so she suggested I see the sex therapist to help fix them.”
Fix them? Matthew had no idea what she meant. He moved slightly closer to her on the couch as he furrowed his brows. “What else did you tell her?” he asked softly. Effie averted his gaze, looking away as if she were embarrassed. “Effie, come on, you can tell me,” he urged.
“Well…when we—do you promise not to freak out at me?”
His heart ached. “Of course.”
“When we started kissing—well, when I started kissing you…I liked it a lot,” she said.
“We were kissing each other,” he said, correcting her, because he knew language was important and the way things were phrased was important and he wanted her to know he was 100% in on it too. He wasn’t exactly innocent. He was a willing accomplice. “I was kissing you too. I liked it a lot too.”
Effie nodded her head. “Well…I liked it a lot. But then we had that talk and you left for St. Louis and we were in a good place. Dr. Barlow told me that was very mature of me, and that she was very impressed. But then…”
“But then…”
Effie kept averting his gaze. “Um…but then, well, you weren’t here, and I started to have dreams of us kissing. I’d lean into you and close my eyes and kiss you. And your lips were soft like I remembered. But then it would change. Quickly. And it would hurt. It—it would hurt. And I’d open my eyes and instead of you, it was…Abraham. And I’d get so scared. I’d wake up screaming.”
Matthew’s heart fell in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick. “I made you feel that way?”
“No! No you didn’t,” she shook her head vehemently. “It was only when you left. When you’re—Matthew, no,” her words were jumbled because she had started crying. “When we kissed, I liked it. I liked it so much. But my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“Effie, if I hurt you—”
“You didn’t. You didn’t hurt me at all,” she pressed, her hand extending automatically to grab at his forearm comfortingly. “You could never hurt me Matthew. Ever. I just…” her voice had gotten softer, frailer, more like it had been in January. “I still see him sometimes.”
If Matthew’s heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach before, then now it had just shattered into a billion pieces. “Oh, Effie…” he barely got out.
“I don’t want to see him ever again,” she said.
“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling her body towards his so he could hug her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and could feel Effie melt into him, her head cradled on his chest. He wanted her to feel as safe as possible with him – he’d wanted that since the beginning. With this new revelation, he now wanted it more than ever. “You’ll never see him again, Effie. I promise you.”
“I know I won’t. I know. This is happening because of what happened to me.”
“When he would hurt you.”
Effie looked up at him, nodding, almost embarrassingly. “I know that he can’t hurt me anymore. But my dreams would take me back to when he did. It wasn’t you, Matthew. You didn’t make me feel that way. I told Dr. Barlow and Dr. Stevenson that. They’re just trying to help me not see him anymore, and move past the things that he did to me. And they’re…they’re trying not to make me feel guilty about something so simple like kissing.”
“You felt guilty about us kissing?” he asked.
“Women couldn’t date, right? So it wasn’t like I was kissing any of the other boys in the cult. We were harlots and sinners if we kissed men, and we were responsible for them straying away from God. My first kiss was on my fake wedding day.”
Matthew could kill them all. He had half the heart to jump into his car and drive to Sheerness so that he could. “I will give you as many kisses as you want if it helps you forget,” he blurted out.
Effie couldn’t help but smile. “Can we start again now? Slowly?”
Matthew smiled slightly. She craned her head up and placed one of her signature chaste kisses on his lips, and he reciprocated readily, the feeling of her lips on his after months of not having them there ranking up there with the best feeling in the world. When she pulled away, her eyes were still closed, but there was a smile on her face. Her prior tears had stained her cheeks. “Hugging you feels nice too,” Effie said, finally opening her eyes.
Matthew smiled. “Well then we’ll start doing a lot of that too.”
***
At the beginning of every hockey season, right before training camp, the Calgary Flames hosted a gala to benefit the Calgary Flames Foundation. The team would set a fundraising goal for the night – often surpassed – and then set one for the season – also surpassed – to give back to the city and community that supported them endlessly, through thick and thin. The gala was unofficially the kickoff to the season. Every member of the team, coaching staff, and head office attended. It was one of Calgary’s biggest events. It was the one night of the year Matthew didn’t mind being out and having to small-talk with hundreds of strangers, because he knew it was all for a good cause and a greater good.
Matthew was forced to wear a tuxedo. All the members of the team were forced to wear tuxedos. He kept fiddling with his bowtie and Mark kept slapping his hand away. Matthew thought they all looked like penguins. He searched around the gala room, already filling up with people. He took his phone out of his pocket.
You guys here yet? he texted Geneviève, knowing that since Elias and Jacob were already here, she and Annica were coming together.
We’re in a taxi. Eyeliner needed to be reapplied because Effie kept crying.
Matthew chuckled to himself, picturing the image of Effie sitting in a chair while Annica and Geneviève fussed over her makeup. Before he could text her back, another text from her came through.
She looks beautiful, by the way.
Matthew was impatient. He kept looking towards the doors even though he was supposed to be pretending to be interested in what these rich people had to say. Levi and Jenna were already there, too, so it really was just him waiting for Effie to arrive. This entire night didn’t start until Effie arrived.
Matthew was in a conversation with someone when he saw her walk through the doors. Annica was wearing a navy blue bodycon dress that showed off her curves, and she looked great. Geneviève was wearing an emerald green midi-length dress with a high slit, high collar, back cut-out, and cap sleeves, and she looked impeccably chic and stylish, like only Geneviève could.
But it was Effie, of course, who looked the best. A bright red dress that fell to her knees, with floral lace and sequins and cape sleeves that covered her otherwise bare arms. She wore a pair of low nude heels, and her blonde bob was styled professionally as a barely-there curl. She looked impeccable. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Divine. Exquisite.
“Excuse me,” he said quickly to the man and wife he was talking to, and left Elias alone with them as he made his way through the crowd and towards Effie, Annica, and Geneviève. He pushed past some people gently before finally appearing in front of them. He could see Geneviève smirking the second they saw him, but he locked eyes with Effie. When she saw him in his tux, her breath hitched in her throat. He looked good. “Hi,” he said to Effie breathlessly.
Annica saw the look in his eyes and knew she had to skedaddle out of there. “Where’s Elias?”
“Over there,” Matthew pointed behind him, somewhere in the crowd of four hundred people, as if that answered the question and helped her.
“Thanks,” she left, winking at him as she passed him.
Geneviève was next. “I guess my husband is in the same place?” she asked him.
“Mhm,” he nodded his head quickly.
“Great. You two behave. If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you’re in a broom closet,” she said before disappearing into the crowd of people.
Matthew and Effie hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. Effie thought he looked great in his tux; it was tailored to perfection, and really showed off how thick his body was, but in a good way. She’d felt it when they hugged when he showed up to her place after landing in Calgary, and if she was being honest with herself, she had been thinking about it ever since. She kept thinking about being physical with him, about touching him and hugging and cuddling and doing all the things she couldn’t have done with another man before. And she only wanted to do them with Matthew. Her mind – and now increasingly her body – wanted to do that only with Matthew. With the dress and the makeup and the whole look all together, Matthew was a man possessed. With Geneviève and Annica gone, Matthew couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to suppress himself from smiling bashfully, like he usually did with Effie. “You look beautiful, Effie,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” she smiled. “This is the second dress I’ve ever worn that has shown off my legs. It’s Geneviève’s. And – if you can believe it – this is the first time I’ve word something red.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. From her hair to her makeup to her dress to her shoes, he just couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He looked around the room quickly before grabbing her hand. “Come with me,” he mumbled.
“Where are we going?”
He dragged her out of the room and into the foyer. There were more people out there, sipping on cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres and getting checked in, so he kept walking with her behind him down the long foyer that connected all the different hall rooms in the complex together. When it got quieter, and the rush of people were too far away, he led her into a short corridor where a men’s and women’s washroom was. They were far enough away that he knew no-one from the gala would find them.
“Matthew? Is everything okay?” she asked as she watched him close the door behind them.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, his voice strained. “I just…God, Effie, you look so fucking beautiful.”
Effie could pick up on the strain in his voice. She could also see the fire in his eyes as he looked down at her. She didn’t know much about the world, and she knew even less about men, but those things alone were telling her something. Her body was telling her something too, something she’d never heard from it before. Instead of being repulsed by the body in front of her, she was drawn to it. Instead of being scared to touch it, she wanted to feel it all over her. Instead of allowing her mind to take her somewhere else so she didn’t have to focus on pain on hurt or anything else, she wanted to be in the moment and feel everything. “Kiss me, Matthew,” she said. She’d never been so bold in her entire life. She didn’t think she had it in her.
Matthew didn’t need to be told twice. He held her face between his hands, dipped his head, and began kissing her passionately. Effie loved it. It wasn’t a chaste kiss like the kisses they had shared in the past. This kiss was hungry, and told her almost everything she needed to know about Matthew’s feelings.
Her feelings were similar. She wanted to explore them. She wanted to do more.
That was why, when it was Effie who slid her tongue along Matthew’s lips, he stopped in shock. Not that he wanted to – the action was just surprising. He pulled away slightly, making sure it was something she wanted to do. When he saw her open her eyes slowly, she was bringing her hands up, placing them over his. “You can touch me, Matthew,” her voice was barely above a whisper.
He let out a shaky breath. He knew they weren’t exactly gonna hook up in the bathroom or anything, but this was still huge, especially for Effie. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded her head. “You won’t hurt me.”
He dipped down and kissed her again. And he kept kissing her, letting his hands wander to her waist and hips, where he gripped them and pulled them closer to his body. And she kept kissing him, letting her hands wander down his chest and under his tuxedo jacket to his back, feeling the thickness of his body. And for at least a few minutes, they were in their own little world, kissing in the men’s bathroom of a banquet hall, hands all over each other as Matthew probably got lipstick all over his mouth.
Effie was loving it. The feeling of his soft lips on hers was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and his tongue in her mouth, tasting slightly of the alcohol he’d drunk before she got there, was intoxicating to say the least. She felt like it could go on forever. She was pretty sure she would let it go on forever if she could. She was happy, so happy that she was doing this – that she could do this. Two years ago, if she’d even thought about it, she would have been scared of being damned to hell for eternity. Now, she was enjoying it. Now, she wanted to do it all the time. Now, she could—
She could—
She—
Now, it hurt a little.
Now, the lips weren’t as soft.
Now, she could feel a prickly, unkept beard scraping at her skin—
“STOP,” she instinctively pushed the body away, scrunching her face and gulping hard. Before she could see Abraham’s face – before it could appear to her in her mind – she opened her eyes and looked at Matthew.
Matthew.
Matthew.
She saw him staring back at her worriedly and she let out a shaky breath. He knew why she stopped; he didn’t need to be told. “I’m—I’m so—”
“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright, Effie. We can stop.”
She diverted her eyes from looking at him. She was so embarrassed. “You won’t be mad?” she asked. That was usually how it went for, well…
Matthew put his hand under her chin so he could look her in the eye. “No,” he said, with as much conviction as he could muster. “We can stop whenever you want.”
“I’m so—”
“Do not apologize to me,” he said sternly. She didn’t need to. He needed her to know that. “Never apologize to me for that.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Thank you for stopping.”
“There’s no way in hell I’d keep going.”
Effie nodded. She understood. “At least I’m getting better,” she said. “I didn’t give you a black eye this time.”
Matthew couldn’t help but snort. It released all the tension in the air immediately; even Effie was giggling slightly. “That you did not,” he said, grabbing her hand slightly. “Wanna go back out there? Well, after we get all this lipstick off of me.”
***
The gala was nice. It was formal and the food was decent and even though Matthew basically kept his eye on Effie sitting with Levi and Jenna the entire night, it was nice. He had fun with his teammates. He embarrassed himself on stage for charity. At the silent auction, one of his packages with signed memorabilia went for the second-highest bid. He was proud of what he and the team were able to accomplish in terms of giving back to the community.
But now he had more important things on his mind.
By the time he found Effie again, she was standing in a group with Levi and Jenna, Jacob and Geneviève, and Annica and Elias. It looked like they were chatting about something exciting, so Matthew knew he needed to be there. When Geneviève saw him butt his way in, she smiled. “I was just reminiscing about when Jacob and I met, and how my friends and I went to the pubs in Oxford after our graduation in our robes and Tudor bonnets,” she said, filling him in. “There’s nothing better than showing up to a place severely overdressed and then having the time of your life dancing.”
Matthew looked at Geneviève in her dress. He looked at Annica in hers, and Effie in hers, and Jenna in hers. He looked to his teammates in his tuxedos, and to Levi wearing a form-fitted navy suit. “Wanna go dancing?”
Elias smirked. “The night’s still young.”
***
They ended up at a bar downtown, one that Matthew had been to before but couldn’t really remember exactly what happened (it was his first year in Calgary and he’d just found out hours before that the legal drinking age was only eighteen). The bouncer looked at them all weirdly in their getups but let them in anyway. It was only when they entered that they realized it was frosh week for the University of Calgary, and the bar was full of university students drinking and dancing. The floor was slightly sticky. It was the perfect venue for the goal they wanted to achieve.
“Oh, this takes me back,” Geneviève giggled, looking out at the sea of people. She looked at Annica and Jenna. “Spicy margs?”
Both women nodded. “Spicy margs.”
She looked at Effie. “Have you ever had alcohol?”
“No.”
“Do you want to try it while you’re safe with us?”
Effie nodded.
Geneviève, Effie, and Matthew headed to the bar while the rest of the group went to find a bar table to take over. Matthew made sure Effie got a spot right at the front as he stood directly behind her, his body pressed against hers. Geneviève waved down the bartenders and ordered all the drinks. All the university students clamouring to get a spot at the bar and the attention of the bartenders looked at them weird for their too-fancy clothes. Geneviève didn’t care – it wasn’t like this was her first time doing this. Effie was a little self-conscious, but that soon went away when she saw the drinks being made in front of her.
“Whenever you go out to a bar like this, you always want the bartender to make your drink in front of you. Don’t ever accept a drink from a stranger or if you haven’t seen it made in front of you,” Geneviève cautioned her.
“Okay,” Effie nodded. “What happens if I don’t like the spicy margarita though?”
“Then we’ll get you another drink.”
Once all the drinks were made, they were brought back to the bar table the rest of the group managed to find and everyone began drinking. Effie liked her spicy margarita. Matthew let her take a sip of his beer but she didn’t like that too much. She ordered another spicy margarita. Her body began to feel tingly because of the tequila. The music started to get progressively louder, too, the bass making the floor vibrate. Effie looked out onto the dance floor to see a bunch of people her age dancing – grinding, as Matthew called it at Andrew’s birthday many months ago. She watched them intently, while they were having the time of their lives.
“You okay?” Matthew asked, bending down to ask as she was looking out at the crowd.
“I want to dance but I don’t know how to,” she revealed. “I’m just…looking to see what everyone else is doing. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that grinding.”
Matthew couldn’t help but smile. “Nobody knows how to dance, Effie. We all just move our bodies to the beat of the music.”
The song changed suddenly and it made Geneviève scream at the top of her lungs in excitement. Effie watched as she grabbed her drink and Jacob’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor as they began to dance together. Levi and Jenna followed, and so did Annica and Elias. The couples weren’t grinding like the university students, but instead danced facing each other, holding hands or swaying back and forth, holding their drinks it their hands and raising them up in the air, miraculously not spilling a thing. She and Matthew were the only ones left at the bar table. “This was their wedding song, I think,” Matthew explained, watching Effie watch Jacob and Geneviève dancing.
“What’s it called?”
“I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.”
“Levi hasn’t introduced me to that one.”
“Levi isn’t the type to listen to Whitney Houston.”
Effie continued to watch them dance, Geneviève singing the lyrics to Jacob at the top of her lungs. They were so in love with each other, even she could see it, and she barely knew what healthy love was. A part of her wondered what made them love each other so much, and another part of her wondered if she should ask. Was it rude to ask something like that?
“D’you want to dance, Effie?” Matthew asked.
Effie looked up at him. “Do you think people will laugh at me because I don’t know how?”
He shook his head. “There’s so many people and they’re all so drunk, they won’t even notice you.”
She gripped her margarita tighter. There was something to be said about overcoming fears ever since she left the cult, and this could be classified as one of them. But she wasn’t like these university students who were moving their bodies so freely and easily. She was much more restrained – with everything really – but she wanted to actively work to move away from that. Conquer her fears. Do what she needed to do to shed herself from the past. So she nodded her head. “Let’s go.”
Matthew grabbed her hand and led her on to the dance floor, moving his body to the song with his beer still in his hand, doing his best not to spill it everywhere, but especially not on Effie wearing Geneviève’s expensive red dress. Effie watched, moving her feet back and forth awkwardly. She looked up at Matthew for reassurance, only to see him already smiling at her. “You got it, you got it,” he said, moving his feet in a similar way.
“What do I do with my hands?” she asked.
“Just throw ‘em up!” he showed her. She did the same movements, but she couldn’t step or move with the beat of the music. Matthew could tell she was nervous. “Just move your body, Effie. Move it however you want. Doesn’t need to be on beat.”
Effie closed her eyes, trying to get the feel of the song in her, but she lost her groove because it soon ended and another began. This one was even more upbeat – well, it had a better beat – and Effie began to move again.
Feel buried alive
This city is airtight
Suffocated and lonely in the crowd
I'm surrounded by
All the screens of their life
Screaming in to space to drown them out
Effie not only began to move her feet and hands, but she tried swaying her hips a bit. She liked this beat. She loved this beat. She lost herself completely in it, dancing with no inhibitions. Matthew watched as she let loose, moving her body in tune with the music. Her dancing was unlike anyone else’s around her, and the only thing he wanted to was copy her. It looked a bit ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to Matthew. He’d made himself look more ridiculous than this before. This was nothing.
I felt down so low
Found nowhere to go
But I know you wait for me
You wait for me
So far out of sight
Straight into the white
But I know you wait for me
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
Effie opened her eyes to see Matthew. Matthew, who would wait for her. Matthew, who had waited for her.
'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights
But I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
Yeah, it's taken time to realize
But I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
“Go Effie! Go Effie!” Annica chanted, coming up beside them with Elias, grooving to the beat of the music. Annica watched Effie moving and followed her movements too – albeit more fluidly – and when Effie looked up and saw Annica, a giant smile took over her face. Annica screamed in excitement and cheered their drinks together before moving with her, beside Matthew, letting him get closest to her.
So hold me tight
I just wanna fade out
Somewhere we can ship the world away
I'm ready to hide
Far from the fallout
They won't find us in the paradise we'll make
“Woooooooo! You go girl! Get loose!” Geneviève screamed from her other side, approaching them with Jacob beside her who was doing a modified version of the robot. Matthew watched as Effie closed her eyes, going into her own little world, raising her arms and bopping her body to the music. It was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her. He vowed right then and there to take her dancing whenever she wanted to go so she could feel this same way.
I felt down so low
Found nowhere to go
But I know you wait for me
You wait for me
So far out of sight
Straight into the white
But I know you wait for me
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
Effie was feeling it. She loved it. She loved this. She loved the people she was surrounded by. If this was love, she wanted to feel it all the time.
'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights
But I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
Yeah, it's taken time to realize
But I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
When she opened her eyes again, she saw everyone dancing around her. She stepped closer to Matthew, almost so close that she could feel his body against hers. They moved together to the climax of the song, Matthew looking down at her and smiling.
Free falling from the high
I'm following the voice I know
Free falling from the high
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
In his tuxedo and in her frilly red dress with cape sleeves, surrounded by people. it felt like they were the only ones in the world.
'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights
But I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
Yeah, it's taken time to realize
But I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
I'm coming home
I'm coming back down tonight
***
“I think I can live a normal life with him,” Effie told Dr. Barlow as she sat in her usual seat in the office, looking down at her hands. She’d already been talking for almost an hour during her session, but she felt the need to get that statement out. Dr. Barlow had the right to know.
“With Matthew?” Dr. Barlow clarified.
Effie nodded her head. Who else would she be talking about? “He’s never once made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe or…like…ashamed of what I went through,” she elaborated.
“That’s a very positive thing,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice steady. “It’s good that you’re thinking about these things, Effie. You’re thinking about your future. You actually see a future for yourself. But how normal do you think a friendship or perhaps even a life with a hockey player can be?” she asked.
Effie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I barely understand hockey as it is.”
“Well, hockey players don’t exactly live the most conventional of lifestyles. They travel a lot, as I’m sure you know since Levi travels with the team.”
“Yeah…” Effie didn’t know where Dr. Barlow was going with this. “That’s…that’s not the biggest deal to me.”
Dr. Barlow nodded her head, writing something down on her pad of paper. “Have you continued to kiss him since he’s come back?” Effie nodded. “Regularly?”
“Semi-regularly.”
“Have you told Dr. Stevenson?” she asked. Effie nodded again. “Do you still envision Abraham sometimes?”
Effie hesitated before nodding her head. She knew she couldn’t lie. “It’s been getting better though. We kissed for a couple of minutes once before I, um, felt Abraham’s beard. And when he stopped, he didn’t get mad at all. I means it’s progress from when he brushed up against me in bed and I gave him a black eye,” she tried to joke.
Dr. Barlow apparently didn’t find it funny like Matthew had. She just nodded again and wrote on her note pad. “You should tell Dr. Stevenson about that.”
***
“I made another pint of maple pecan ice cream,” Effie told Levi as she handed him a Tupperware full of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. They were mostly for Jenna – she was craving them. Jenna had been craving a lot of things lately, ever since Effie got her own mixer, anyway. Effie had been experimenting making ice cream. The café was pleased about this as well. The owner was already looking to invest in ice cream storage to be able to serve it. “I’ve found a real gem in you, Effie,” the owner would repeat over and over again to her. Matthew had to stop himself constantly from getting a third bowl on nights he’d come over. He’d tap at his stomach and say “I can’t” but when he’d go and put his bowl in the sink, she’d always see him hesitate before he did so. “Do you want it?”
“Please,” he begged his sister. She moved to open her freezer. “I swear Effie, the best thing Matthew’s ever done was get you that KitchenAid. I’ve been gaining weight ever since.”
Effie smiled. “At least you’re not the hockey player that has to stay in peak physical condition. Matthew’s been complaining that I’m making him pudgy.”
“Thank God.”
“Speaking of…” she began, handing him the pint of ice cream. “Do you think you can teach me about hockey?”
“You mean like the rules and stuff?”
“Yeah. You know, like what’s going on out there whenever I’m at games.”
“Okay,” he nodded, shrugging his shoulder slightly. “Any reason?”
“If I’m going to be surrounded by hockey because of you, then I should learn it, shouldn’t I?” Effie asked rhetorically.
“Sure,” he side-eyed his sister playfully. “But does this have anything to do with Matthew?”
“What if it does?”
Levi smiled. He knew there was something going on between the two of them, regardless of whether or not they wanted to tell him. He liked Matthew, he knew he was a good kid, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She could have hooked up with someone way worse. Actually, she could have gone the opposite route of where she currently was (which many former cult members went), which was becoming a hypersexual after being sexually repressed for so many years. Effie was taking her time with it, and that was fine, but if her friendship…or relationship, or whatever she had going on with Matthew was any indication, Levi figured Effie was thinking about it. “I don’t care, Effie. It’s kind of cute, actually.”
“So you’ll teach me?”
“Of course. I’ll have you screaming at the referees in no time.”
***
“So Levi’s teaching me about hockey,” Effie said as she marinated chicken in her kitchen, her phone call with Matthew on speakerphone as she moved around and got her hands dirty.
“He is?”
“Mhm. By the time the home opener comes around, I’ll be able to understand what’s going on,” she revealed.
“I better get you a Tkachuk jersey then.”
Effie smiled bashfully, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t want me wearing a Markstrom one like last time?” she joked.
“Effie.”
***
Effie was nervous as she sat in Dr. Stevenson’s office. Not because she was scared, or because she wasn’t a good sex therapist, or because of anything like that. She was nervous to admit to her the thoughts she’d been having about Matthew, even though she knew Dr. Stevenson wouldn’t judge her at all and that it was his job to help her. Help her make peace with these thoughts; help her realize they were completely normal and okay; help her act on them, eventually, in a healthy way. Dr. Stevenson already knew about Matthew – she knew about him from Effie’s very first day.
“My mind may not be ready but my body is physically attracted to him. I don’t know how to…you know, mend the two so that both are on the same page,” Effie admitted after almost an hour. “I want to be with him. I do. I know he won’t hurt me – that he’d never hurt me.”
Dr. Stevenson nodded. “When you were in the People’s Dominion of Christ, there was a huge power imbalance between Abraham, being the prophet and leader, and the followers – you,” Dr. Stevenson began to explain. “This imbalance made it impossible for you to give true consent to sex.”
Effie’s body stiffened. Consent. Geneviève had taught her that term early on. Consent was giving permission for something to happen. Effie had never given her consent to marry Abraham. She’d never given Abraham consent to consummate their marriage. She’d never given Abraham consent to touch her, stroke her, do anything to her. She’d surely never given him consent to impregnate her. “Okay…that makes sense. But I didn’t know I had to give consent. I thought that men could do whatever they wanted with my body. Especially Abraham, since he was the prophet.”
“The institutionalized sexism in the cult is nothing I haven’t heard before. Many victims like yourself have said the exact same thing to me,” Dr. Stevenson said. “You are not alone. There are many people like you, unfortunately. When females are not equally valued because of misogyny, because of outdated traditional gender roles that are disempowering, it makes women like you experience sexual inequality and become more susceptible to leaders who will exploit you.”
“So how do I get it back?”
“Get what back?”
“My agency. My…my…” Effie began to tear up, thinking about all the things she had to endure at the hands of Abraham – literally and metaphorically. “How do I get my mind back? My body is finally mine, and I can do what I want with it, but I don’t feel like I have my mind back yet if I’m kissing Matthew but then all of a sudden I remember the feeling of Abraham’s beard or that I can’t sit or lie at the foot of a bed because that’s where…”
Dr. Stevenson took a deep breath. “One way to do so is to embrace, appreciate, and celebrate your sexual self. That is what I am trying to help you do here. You need to understand that your capacity for pleasure is not a luxury, and it is not shameful either. It is a necessity for a well-balanced and emotionally happy life. As a woman – as a survivor of sexual abuse, of rape – you should take a stand for your own sexual healing and embrace sexual pleasure as something that will help heal you.”
Effie nodded her head, more tears escaping her now, but she understood. She knew what she needed to do, and the mental shift she needed to go through. Touching could be pleasurable for the woman. Sex could be pleasurable for the woman. Not everything had to hurt. Not everything had to come with pain.
“I’m not saying this is going to happen tomorrow for you, Effie,” Dr. Stevenson continued. “I’m not saying it’ll happen next month, or year. It happens quickly for some, and for others it can take years. Everybody has their own timeline – you included. You have to remember that your trauma comes with complex PTSD. If you set goals for yourself, like you already have been doing, with a person you are comfortable with – Matthew – your sexual self will grow with your physical self and your mental self. When those three parts of you are aligned, they will all grow stronger, and make you stronger.”
Effie kept nodding. The words were permeating through her like lightning. “I’m going to try. I’m really going to try.”
“Just stop when you need to stop. Go when you want to go. You’ll get there, Effie.”
***
“Did you learn about gay people in the cult?” Matthew asked as he prepared Brokeback Mountain on the TV while Effie finished pouring the popcorn into the bowl.
“Not in a good way, if that’s what you’re really asking,” she said from the kitchen. “You know the stupid Bible verse. The prophet called it an abomination. But it was one of the first things that Levi and Jenna taught out of me when I first went to live with them, because Jenna’s brother is gay and has a husband and two kids. Levi didn’t want me to be shocked if I ever saw them.”
Matthew didn’t know that about Jenna. But he nodded his head and watched Effie bring the bowl of popcorn over. “Have you met them?”
Effie nodded. “They came over a few months after I arrived. They were so incredibly kind,” she explained. She handed the popcorn bowl to Matthew to take before folding her leg and collapsing onto the couch beside him, facing him. “It really…it really messed with me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to think that way. It was what I was conditioned to think. I didn’t know better. And I felt so bad, because I knew they knew, but they were so understanding. From the moment they walked through the door they were so nice and they didn’t hold it against me,” she explained.
Matthew could only listen. And though he listened through her entire explanation, he was hung up on one thing. “You should stop calling him the prophet,” he said suddenly, not really thinking it through but needing to get it out. “He wasn’t a prophet. He wasn’t even your husband. He was just some guy.”
Effie looked stunned by what he was saying. She’d never considered that before. She was so used to calling him the prophet that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind – ever. “You’re right,” she said, unable to say anything else. It was such a simple sentiment but it held so much power. “I…you’re right, Matthew.”
He smiled slightly. “Wanna start the movie?”
Effie nodded. Matthew extended his arm to move the bowl to the side, and his other arm moved upwards slightly, signalling to Effie that it was already to cuddle. She moved closer to him, snuggling into his side and letting both legs drape over his thigh. Only then did he let his arm down, draping it over her back. Effie looked up at him. “Is that okay?” she asked.
“It’s perfect,” he whispered, placing the bowl of popcorn between their bodies so they had equal access to it. “You comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
“Effie, are you comfortable?” he repeated.
She knew why he was repeating himself. She looked up at him and smiled. “The comfiest I’ve ever been.”
Matthew pressed play. From that moment, Effie’s eyes were glued to the screen, hooked on the love story unfolding in front of her. For Matthew, he was more hooked on watching her than the movie, but he kept up slightly. At some point during the movie – Matthew didn’t pay attention when – Effie’s hand settled on his abs, and it was all he could think about for the rest of the night. He was acutely aware of its placement. Then, the sadder scenes started happening, and he’d feel the hand grip his t-shirt, and his body would seize up. She’d soften it, but then grip again when something emotional would happen. Then the scene where Ennis visits Jack’s parents after his death occurred, and Ennis was let into Jack’s childhood bedroom and found his old shirt. Matthew watched as Ennis smelled it and clutched it against his chest.
Then he heard Effie let out a sob.
She gripped him tighter than she ever had. He tightened his hold on her too, shifting slightly and letting his shirt ride up against the couch, just so she could cuddle into him even more than she already was. He could feel her hand on his skin now, gripping at his side tenderly as the tears still rolled down her face. He took the opportunity to place his hand in the small sliver of space where her shirt had ridden up too, squeezing and massaging it gently to comfort her. “Y’okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the TV. As the movie continued, Matthew left his hand exactly where it was, and Effie left her hand exactly where it was. Holding each other. Clutching each other.
When the movie ended, Effie didn’t move for a long time. Not even when the credits began rolling on the screen. “Are you okay, Effie?” Matthew repeated his question from earlier, albeit a bit louder and more pronounced this time.
“I think my heart is broken,” she finally let out, bringing the hand that was squeezing his side to her face so she could wipe her tears away. “That was beautiful. Beautiful.”
“It was,” Matthew agreed. It was very obvious the movie was affecting her a lot.
Effie moved so she could look up at Matthew, craning her head and bringing her hand up to cradle his face so she could kiss him. When their lips connected, Matthew could feel the wetness of her cheeks. “I can’t believe I was ever scared of that,” she whispered against his lips when she pulled away.
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is what you think now.”
Effie nodded. He always knew the right things to say. He was helping her change her past and way of thinking one way or another. “I think I want to kiss you again.”
Matthew kissed her. And even as the credits finished, neither of them would let go of the other.
***
The Calgary Flames home opener at the Saddledome had Effie buzzing with excitement. She wore a brand new pair of jeans for the occasion, and arrived at the game with Jenna, Annica, and Geneviève. As was normal for them, Annica was wearing her tried and true Lindholm jersey, while Geneviève was sporting a Markstrom one. Jenna wore Levi’s old Iginla jersey.
Effie had Tkachuk sprawled across her back.
“Do you want to go down near the ice and wave?” Annica asked, and Effie nodded her head. “It might get a big crowded, so stay near me.”
The ladies descended down the steps, joining the pretty big crowd that had formed against the glass beside Jacob’s net. A bunch of kids were up against the glass with homemade signs, their parents near them taking pictures. Some men around Effie’s age were there too, drinking beers with their jerseys on and taking videos on their phones. Other girls her age were there too, taking pictures of all the players. “Can you see Matthew?” Geneviève asked as she looked down at Effie.
“He’s over there,” she smiled, pointing at Matthew across the ice. He was practicing his stickhandling, in such deep concentration that he didn’t look up for a while. When he finally did look up, happy with his stickhandling, he began skating around the ice, bumping into Noah and Andrew along the way.
Effie waved excitedly.
Matthew stopped when he saw her. Even though there was glass streaked with puck shots and some distance between them, she could see him smile from ear to ear, his mouth guard hanging out. He waved back, his hockey glove looking like a giant bear claw.
“God you two are insufferable,” Geneviève said jokingly.
Matthew continued to skate around, shooting the puck at the net, each of them going in. Geneviève noticed all of his glances back at them, and the small smile constantly on his face as he went about his drills. When the practice was almost over, she kept an eye intently on him, watching as he skated over. She knew what he wanted to go. “Go closer,” she said to Effie, urging her with a little nudge.
Effie took her cue and stepped down, closer to the glass. Matthew had flipped a puck over the glass towards a kid with a sign for him. Now, as Effie watched, he pointed to her and made sure everyone around knew who he was pointing to. She turned around slightly, pointing to his name on her back. He smiled wide and flipped another puck, perfectly, right into her hands.
Geneviève watched as the young women around them eyed Effie suspiciously.
***
“Matthew!” Effie squealed once he finally emerged from the locker room, his suit back on and his tie tied loosely around his neck. She hugged him excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he reciprocated. “Great game!”
“Thanks, Effie.”
“And your goal!” she continued. Now that she actually understood hockey, and now that she wasn’t scared about every little thing around her at the arena, she could actually enjoy the experience and know what was going on. “What a great goal!”
He had the puck in his pocket, and had planned to give it to her, but right now his mind was elsewhere. Seeing her in his jersey at the beginning of the game did things to him, and although he was able to focus throughout the sixty minutes, now that he saw her again with his name sprawled across her back, his mind was right where it was the moment he first saw her that night. “Wanna come over mine and watch a movie?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.
To his complete surprise, Effie nodded her head immediately. “Of course.”
They left inconspicuously without saying goodbye to anyone.
***
Effie broke down during the first scene.
Matthew had changed out of his suit and into a sweater and track pants, and Effie had taken off the jersey and hung it up in his front closet. They cuddled on the couch together, exactly as they’d done when they watched Brokeback Mountain, and Matthew pressed play on Netflix. The first scene was the main character, Esty, packing up her most valuable belongings, including a small picture of her grandmother, and running away from her Hasidic community. All before the opening credits. When the show’s opening played, he heard Effie let out a loud sob.
“Hey hey hey,” he cooed, watching as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth to try and control herself, but there was no use. Tears were streaming down her face. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”
“It’s me,” she said softly, through tears. “It’s me.”
“C’mere,” he said, pulling her even closer against his body, if that was possible. Every inch of her was touching him now, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he hoped that brought her at least some reprieve. She was wiping her face with her hands, and he could see her chest heaving, though he could tell she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “We can stop it or watch so—”
“No,” she interjected sternly, looking up at him. “I can do this.”
“I know you can Effie, but—”
“No buts. I can watch this,” she was adamant.
Matthew lost. He knew he would. He bit his bottom lip and nodded his head. “Will you promise to tell me if it becomes too much?”
Effie nodded. She snuck her hand underneath his sweater to feel his skin again, and she – surprisingly – game him a quick peck before laying her head on his chest again. “Press play.”
Matthew kissed her forehead, then the crown of her head, then laid his cheek there before pressing play.
Effie broke down again less than ten minutes later, when the grandmother was listening to an old German song, An Die Musik sung by Elisabeth Scwartzkopf. And again, when Yanky was searching her childhood bedroom and found her personal items and her music. The last scene she cried to was near the end, when Esty’s biological mother showed up and gave her documents to prove German citizenship “just in case you need somewhere else to go”. When the episode ended, Effie was shedding her last tears. Matthew paused Netflix before the episode could switch over. “You okay?”
Effie nodded, despite her tears. “I know it’s different religions, but a lot of things were just, like, so similar,” she explained. “The…the beginning brought me back.”
“I can only imagine,” Matthew whispered.
“The grandmother crying listening to that beautiful song. Esty’s music. Her mom still looking out for her despite abandoning her. It all just…it all just really hit home.” Matthew nodded. It was the only thing he could do. If Effie wanted to elaborate, she could, but he wasn’t going to force her. Instead, he shifted her body so she was sitting more in his lap as opposed to right beside him. She steadied her breathing, and her tears had stopped. “When I went to live with the proph—Abraham, as his wife,” she began, “he made me leave everything at home besides my clothes. I couldn’t see my favourite things unless I was visiting, and even then, I’d never be alone in my room for more than two minutes because he knew I’d be reminiscing, and he said it was a sin to dwell on my past life when I should have been looking forward to my future as his wife and as a mother to his son of God.” She paused, biting her bottom lip; Matthew could tell she was remembering it all vividly in her mind. “After a year my mom threw out all my things anyway. Because she agreed with him.”
“What did you have? What were your things?” he asked, sad and angry and disturbed all at once.
“Just simple things. Nothing special,” she said. “My…my own Bible that I’d been using since I was a kid. A journal I had where I recorded my favourite verses. A doll I had when I was a kid that another member made for me. Just stupid things.”
“They’re not stupid things if they were special for you,” Matthew said. “I can’t believe your mom threw them all out. My mom has kept my kindergarten paintings.”
Effie smiled slightly. “That’s because you have a good mom who knows how to be a mother.”
Matthew digressed. Effie obviously hadn’t meant Chantal yet, but Matthew talked about her enough that Effie knew a lot about her. “I know I keep saying this, but you’re so strong, Effie.”
“It’s a lot to overcome,” she whispered, nodding her head. They sat for a while in comfortable silence, just being with each other. Matthew’s arms were still wrapped around her. Effie was still in hip lap, looking at him. “Will you kiss me, Matthew?”
Matthew smiled slightly before dipping his head down and capturing her lips in a kiss. It wasn’t long before – once again – Effie took the initiative to slip her tongue into his mouth. There was kissing – so much kissing – and Matthew took it upon himself to start to lay Effie down on the couch, his body looming over hers slightly and—
“Stop,” Effie said, her hands on his chest, pushing him off her slightly. Matthew immediately stopped and moved away from her. Her chest heaved up and down once before she pushed herself up. “I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize,” he said. “Did you see him again?”
Effie didn’t answer. “I think it happened because we laid down,” she said, her lips puffy from all the kissing.
Matthew was catching his breath. He was thankful that he was wearing track pants or else Effie would see how…excited he’d become. “How about you stay on top then?”
She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
“We—we can stay upright,” Matthew explained. “You can sit on my lap if you want…facing me. Or you could just…you know, like, sit…” he was losing his words.
Effie looked confused. Nervous. Like she didn’t know what to think. Like she was picturing the scenario in her head and couldn’t really make sense of any of it. “W—Women are allowed to do that?” she asked softly. Matthew couldn’t speak; he could only stare at her flabbergasted. He nodded his head slightly, and Effie thought about it. How women could be ‘on top’. What that would look like. What that would entail. “C…Can you—can you show…” she was too embarrassed to even be asking.
“C’mere,” he said, extending his hand. She put her hand in his and he pulled her towards him. “Put your one leg over here,” he said, patting to the space on the other side of him. She did so slowly. “And your other leg goes here,” he explained, and she did the same movement, “and now you can just sit on my lap.”
Effie took a deep breath as she lowered herself down until she could feel his thighs as her seat. Both she and Matthew had barely blinked the entire time during his simple act of showing her how to straddle him, but she had never done it before (and it wasn’t like she would have been allowed to), and so everything about it was new to her. Now, she was face-to-face with him, her hands resting on his chest, his hands resting near the bend in her knees. “This is new,” she said.
“Are you comfy?” he asked. She nodded. “D’you like it?” he asked again.
“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted. “But I can see it being nice.”
Being nice. Matthew couldn’t help but grin. “It’ll be nice. Trust me.”
Effie nodded. She did trust Matthew. So when she went in to continue their kisses, it was nice, and it was beautiful, and it wasn’t so bad anymore. Which is why, when Matthew’s hands moved from her knees up her thighs, it was okay. When his hands squeezed at her flesh through her pants before going higher, it was okay. When his hands moved to her hips and pulled her even closer, it was okay.
It was okay.
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagine#matthew tkachuk fic#matthew tkachuk fan fic#calgary flames#calgary flames imagine#calgary flames fic#calgary flames fan fic#matthew tkachuk drabble#calgary flames drabble#nhl#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl fan fic#nhl drabble#hockey#hockey imagine#hockey fic#hockey fan fic#hockey drabble#patience is a virtue series
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Matthew Tkachuk #8
Requested by Anon: Can you please pleaseee make a Matt Tkachuk fwb to lovers one, kinda angsty but still cute please? thanksxxx
*Hi!! Thank you so much for this! I’m always apprehensive when doing an M Tkachuk angsty one because I just always think I write him the best. And I’m always scared that the next Matt drabble I post is the first one you wouldn’t like but I had so much fun writing this! I think I’m getting back on my groove. I just love the angsty drabbles the most. I took inspiration from this song by Ingrid Andress entitled Both. Enjoy!! :)*
Word count: 995
If only the VIP passes could kill, you would have been cold by now; probably lying on your carpeted floor. Alas, they are just two pieces of laminated cardboard harmlessly set on your breakfast bar. You’re supposed to show them to the security at the arena tomorrow night, like it’s some kind of badge or something that says: “I’m banging one of the players!”
Yeah, no. You’re really not in the business of kissing and telling. Besides, Matthew has been a little bit confusing lately, you’re not even sure him giving you passes is still in the realm of the casual hookup that you are. Huh, you know what they say, there’s a fine line between like and lust.
“You know those tickets aren’t gonna eat you alive, right?”
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Turning around, you saw Matthew leaning on your bedroom door, shirt half buttoned, pants half zipped.
“Huh?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound like the fool that you are.
He nodded towards the breakfast bar, “those are just tickets,” he smirked, sauntering over, “you look like you’re being handed a death sentence or something.”
You snorted.
Matthew turned the stool you were sitting on until he had you facing him, “it’s just a game.”
As if.
“You’ve never invited me to a game before,” you pointed out. Going to a Flames game and sitting with legit wives and girlfriends were never on the table when you started hooking up with Matthew Tkachuk.
And honestly, after the whole I-miss-you debacle of last month, you’re not really certain where things are with him.
Standing up, you buttoned his shirt completely, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
A month ago, you were so sure that you had with him was casual. Purely casual.
The rules were pretty simple too: no overnights, no unnecessary texts, no lingering around. Everything was going smoothly too, until feelings got in the way. Your feelings.
One time you were kicking him out of the bed, the next you were brushing your teeth three times in his bathroom just so you could stay a little longer. It’s both scary and freaky at the same time.
Just when you were about to run far away from Matthew Tkachuk and his undeniably hot body, he suddenly sent you the worst message you could ever receive from a fuck buddy, “I miss you, I miss having you around.” They were in the middle of an east coast road trip and you haven’t seen each other for more than three weeks.
You were still contemplating what to say to that when he uploaded an Instagram story of him and a completely unknown girl getting hot and cozy in New York City. Right.
The pang in your heart was why you never did relationships in the first place. Especially relationships with overgrown boys who skate around bang other overgrown boys onto fiberglass.
And now he’s confusing things even more with these passes.
“You can just go to the game and we can grab some dinner after,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.
“We don’t do dinners either,” you pointed out.
Matt just quirked and eyebrow, “there’s a first for everything?”
Bringing the whole casual arrangement thing might not be the best idea but balls to the wall, bitches. Oh gosh, this is going to change a lot of things. Heck, you might end the night without Matthew Tkachuk and without the tickets.
Whatever.
“What are we doing?” you whispered so softly, you were afraid he didn’t hear you.
Matt grabbed the stool beside you before saying, “I don’t know.”
You grinned despite your heart giving beating a million kilometers per minute, “well, that makes two of us.”
He sighed, “take the passes.”
You shrugged, “I’m still not sure about that.”
For seven months, you’ve skirted around the lines of staying casual or having more. Did you like it? Of course not. But you liked him enough to take whatever he’s willing to give you.
“I’m not sure you know what you want,” you continued, “you can’t make me feel special and then disappear for weeks on end.”
“I travel for a living,” he pointed out.
Okay.
“I mean,” you sighed, “you get my point, dork,” you lightly kicked his shin, “what are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” he answered softly before cupping your cheeks in his hands. Matt leaned forward until his breath tickled your cheek, his eye glimmering with some emotion you’re too afraid to identify.
“Matthew,” you warned, your hands balling his shirt, “you have to make up your mind.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning further until his lips hovered above yours. Gosh, how easy it is to just tip your head and feel his lips against yours. How easy it is to just forget and go back to the comfortable. Not that you weren’t horizontal and in your bed just fifteen minutes ago.
“We need to talk,” you told him.
He nodded, his lips still a centimeter above yours, “kiss me.”
Shaking your head, you stared deep into his eyes, “not until after we sort this out.”
“I like you,” he clarified, as if that wasn’t clear enough, “I like having you beside me,” he continued, nuzzling your neck with the tip of his nose, “I like the idea of you watching me on the ice,” he carried on, landing light kisses on your throat, “I miss you when I’m away,” his lips now teasing the soft spot just below your ear, “and I really hate that we’re still keeping this casual,” he finally pushed from his seat, his hands still cradling you as he stood up, “and I kinda hope you hate it too.
I like you,” he said again, like he was afraid you didn’t hear it the first time.
“Matt,” you answered him, sounding as breathy as you felt, your hands clutching his sides, “kiss me?”
He smirked, eyes glinting, “I thought you’d never ask.”
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagines#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#fanfic#drabble#drabbles#imagines#my writing#calgary flames
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Christine projects her kinks onto Matthew Tkachuk
Matthew's naked all the time when he's at home
Insert shameless plug to the one-shot I wrote about skinny dipping with him
You feel awkward being the only one who's dressed so you're naked too
Matthew loves this because he can just part your legs and admire your pussy whenever he wants
And he loves the subtle jiggle of your boobs when you walk around the house
Like if you're lying on the couch reading a book, you'll feel Matthew come over and start stroking your pussy with his hands
He might even pick up his phone with one hand while he makes you wet with the other
He's like texting the guys while fingering you and you're just reading your book
Since the two of you are naked all the time he notices subtle changes in your body
"Babe, your boobs look bigger today. Let me hold them for you."
Will fuck you anywhere and everywhere in the house
Likes having you bent over something as he enters you from behind
The counter, the armrest on the couch, the ottoman
Especially if there’s a mirror in front of you so he can see you
One time he fucked you on the stairs just inside the house because he couldn't wait
One night Matthew was keeping you from your beauty sleep by being loud AF on the headset playing video games
So you got out of bed and got on your knees and blew him because you thought it would be funny
You might as well since you weren’t getting any sleep that night
"I DIDN'T GET NO FUCKING SLEEP 'CAUSE OF Y'ALL! YA'LL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP 'CAUSE OF ME!"
You love watching him struggle to hold back his moans
He’s playing so badly
You can hear the other players chirping him, making you smirk
You’re in big trouble once Matthew takes off the headset
Takes you over his knee and spanks you
He ties you up on a chair in the corner with a magic wand pressed against your pussy
Goes back to playing his video games, occasionally watching you wither in pleasure from the corner of his eye
By the time he’s finished for the night, you can’t feel your legs
Matthew carries you back to bed and spoons you
He falls asleep with his face buried in your hair
He has a serious thing for your mouth
Whenever you use it, he has to take a photo
Has an album full of photos of you sucking his fingers or with your mouth wrapped around his dick
Loves it when you play with his hair
When he goes down on you, or when the two of you are doing missionary
You’ll scratch his scalp or tug on his hair and he’ll just love it
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk x reader#hockey writing#nhl players#nhl writing#nhl imagines#hockey players#hockey imagines#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#nhl one shot#hockey one shot#drabbles#nhl drabbles#hockey drabbles#smut#hockey smut#nhl smut#calgary flames
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Matthew Tkachuk #7
*This was supposed to be inspired by a song requested a couple of months ago but it totally took a different turn when I started writing it. This is just as good and as cute, though. I hope you enjoy! <3*
Word count: 812
The first time your eyes laid on Matthew Tkachuk, fists were flying, not sparks. He had a big bruise forming on his cheek, his knuckles white from his fingers being curled so tight, and his wild curls almost matted on his sweaty forehead. He was seven years old.
That was the day you fell in love with him. Probably. Or maybe you were just attracted to him because the St. Louis jersey he refused to take off had such beautiful colors.
Not that the red of Calgary doesn’t suit him because it does, really.
It’s just that, sometimes it’s nice to think about the time when you had Matthew Tkachuk all to yourself. Before Mitch Marner and the London Knights happened, and especially before Sean Monahan, Johnny Gaudreau, and the rest of the Calgary Flames took him even farther from you.
Gosh, you can still remember his draft night and how your eyes were glued to the television, just waiting for his name to be called. Of course there was a delay in the telecast and you had already received a text from him saying he was darfted sixth overall even before Pierre-Luc Dubois was called on TV. Of course.
That was the night you realized you had to let go of him. He wasn’t just Matty of next door anymore, he was going to be Matthew Tkachuk, the NHL player.
It’s been years since then but he’s still as loveable and, if you’re lucky (or unlucky, whichever way you see it), you can still see a big bruise forming on his cheek… just like all those years ago.
Just like the bruise he has on his face right now. Gosh.
“What’s up, boogs?” he asked, plopping next to you, his heavy arm automatically draping around your shoulder.
You rolled your eyes at him. The NHL might take the boy out of St. Louis, but they can’t take St. Louis out of the boy – you will always be boogs to him. Booger, really. A nickname he started to call you more than eleven years ago when he caught you with snot dripping from your nose.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his nose nuzzling your neck.
“Hmm,” you smiled, looking at him, “this is nice,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Yeah?” he sighed, “you looked like you were plotting a murder,” he chuckled, “you’re just sitting here with that look on your face.”
You frowned, “what look?”
He lightly kissed your forehead, “the one you get when I don’t shower after training.”
OH.
“I was just thinking how when you got drafted, I didn’t want to share you with the world,” you laughed.
“Ha,” he snorted, “the world? No, never. My mom, though, for sure,” he looked you in the eye, “but not the world.”
You gently traced the black eye he was sporting, “the first time I saw you, you had a bruise on your face, you know.”
He winked, “it was the purple on my face that got you, huh?”
“Nah,” you shook your head, “it was the double chin and the Dennis the Menace attitude.”
“Ohhh,” he nodded, “so you like bad boys?” he asked, his eyebrows quirking, turning until he had his legs over your lap, effectively trapping you, “you like this bad boy?” he grinned, kissing your chin, “yeah?”
Cupping his face, you leaned a little and kissed him gingerly, “I like this bad boy very much.”
“Even with the black eye?”
“Oh, especially with the black eye,” you giggled, “it adds character.”
Matthew tried to move the swollen part of his face before wincing, “should I get a black eye every game?”
You poked his side, “do you want me to give you one every day?”
He paused, as if he was thinking about it, “I’d rather you don’t. I like my face like this.”
Nodding, you shifted until you were the one straddling him, his back against the arm of the couch, “I like your face too, Matty,” you sobered, “I’ve liked your face for more than ten years now.”
He looked smug, “stalker.”
You huffed, “says the guy who climbed my window when he was twelve years old.”
“Only because you had my Play Station!!” he said defensively.
“Hmm,” you teased, “if you say so.”
Matt stretched until he was lying on the couch and you were lying on top of him. Softly, he cradled your head against his chest, his arms giving you a big bear hug.
“For the record,” he whispered, his hand stroking the small of your back, “this bruise-faced bad boy is really glad you went to that peewee game.”
Kissing his chest, you answered, “for the record,” you smiled, “this snot-faced good girl is glad she went too.”
#Matthew Tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagines#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#imagines#drabble#drabbles#fanfic#my writing#calgary flames
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Matthew Tkachuk #6
Requested by Anon: can you please write a matthew tkachuk imagine please?? your imagines are literally the best ive seen. could write one where you both are used to being the big spoon and it leads to confusion during cuddletime? (if he could admit to liking being the little spoon that'd be nice. thanks!
*Thank you sooo much! I bet there are better writers out there but still, I appreciate it. I hope you like this one. It really did make me grin like an idiot. Enjoy! :)*
Word count: 891
The teeth that hit your forehead felt like a knife tearing on your skin, making you wince a little before bursting into laughter. Matthew, on the other hand, didn’t find it funny. Instead, he reached up and massaged the tender skin just above your eyes.
“Babe,” you chuckled, “you should learn to close your mouth when you wanna cuddle,” you pushed his gaping mouth close, “your teeth are dangerous,” you snorted.
Matthew nodded before grabbing your shoulders and turning you around until your back was against your chin, “that wouldn’t have happened if you were facing the right way,” he said, tucking your body against his, his arm circling your waist.
This has happened before, of course, and you know there’s no use in arguing with him but it’s always worth a try.
Wiggling, you turned your head so you can frown at him, “when do I get to be the big spoon?” you pouted.
He grinned, “when you can finally tuck me in your little body,” he poked your cheek gently, “until then, I think you’re the perfect size for me to cradle.”
“I’m not a kid,” you reminded him, “certainly not a child.”
You heard your boyfriend snicker, “I know you’re not,” he grinned against your hair, “not when you’re pressed against me like this.”
Just like that, you untwined yourself from him. Sitting up, you glared at a laughing Matthew Tkachuk, “you’re gross, you know that?”
He rubbed his naked belly, a silly smile still playing on his face, “you like this gross man.”
You groaned, banging your head against your pulled up knees, “that’s a question I’m still waiting to be answered.”
With the strength of just one arm – cocky hockey man – he managed to pull you back into bed, this time, hugging until your face was against his chest, “you like this gross man,” he repeated.
“Lord knows I do,” you grumbled against him. Looking up, you tried to push his shoulders, “turn around so we can finally sleep please.”
Matthew shook his head, “no,” he said sternly, “you turn around.”
You kicked your legs, “but I don’t want to be cuddled,” you moaned, “I want to cuddle you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning you again and kissing the top of your head, “next time.”
He tucked your head under his chin and tightened his hold on you, “right now, though, I want to be the one hugging you.”
“Ugh,” you raised your hand until you were rubbing his stubble-filled jaw, “but what am I supposed to do with my hands?” you argued, waving your arms in front of you.
“You put them here,” he said, moving until your arm was lying on top of his, his fingers tangling with yours.
Now that you have that covered, you made kissing sounds and kissed the air in front of you.
Matt lifted his head a little and peered down, “what in the world are you doing?”
“Well, I’m facing this way,” you rolled your eyes, “that means I have nothing to kiss because nothing is in front of me,” you shrugged, “unless you want me to kiss the pillow?” you beamed, “I used to be good at that when I was younger.”
He snorted, “you used to kiss the pillow?”
You nodded, grinning now, “I pretended the pillow was Joshua Jackson.”
He blanched, “noooo.”
“Yeeees,” you corrected him, “I might have had a Mighty Ducks hangover, thank you very much.”
He leaned in and kissed the top of your nose, “is that why you dated a hockey player?” he even coughed and pointed to himself.
“Yes,” you rolled your eyes and answered him sarcastically, “my choice of men is dictated by five year-old me’s crush on Joshua Jackson, who,” you held your index finger up and stuck it on his nose, “is the hottest, sexiest hockey player ever, by the way.”
He flicked your finger out of the way and stared at you, “you didn’t just say that.”
“I did,” you nodded.
“Hotter than me?” he rolled until he was straddling you.
Giggling, you poked his rib, “maybe by a little bit,” you giggled some more, “you have to shower more often, I think.”
“I shower at least twice a day,” he said, bending so his lips were hovering just a few inches above yours.
You kissed him quickly, “I bet Joshua Jackson would let me be the big spoon,” you whined.
Matthew effectively collapsed against you, his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, “and we’re back to that, aren’t we?”
“I just want to be able to hug you, okay?” you admitted, “I like hugging you and kissing the muscles on your back,” you combed his hair back, “please?” you smiled as he looked up at you.
Sighing, your boyfriend finally relented, “fine,” he said, rolling off of you, “But just tonight, okay?” he said.
“Why do you even like being the big spoon?” you asked as you wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade.
He didn’t answer you for a few seconds and then finally, turned his head and smiled, “you know what?”
“What?”
“I just realized you hugging me like this is the best feeling in the world,” he grinned, “it makes me feel safe. You might have to be the big spoon more often,” he grinned.
“You,” you kissed his neck, “make me feel safe.”
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagines#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#imagines#drabble#drabbles#my writing#fanfic#calgary flames
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Matthew Tkachuk #5
Requested by Anon(s):
1. More matthew tkachuk I beg of youuuu. Maybe it could be about giving him concert tickets for his birthday? Your last of him was absolutely fantastic [Thank you so so much!! I hope you like this one. I’m not sure if this is the one you wanted but I hope you still enjoy!:)]
2. Could yo do a matt tkachuk one where you surprise him for his birthday? [Here it is!! Enjoy!!:)]
Word count: 1, 092
The cake looked like it was a love child of a red brick and mud. Needless to say, your first foray into birthday cake making has been a bust. At least you can cook a mean spaghetti and meatballs, if it really comes down to party food. Or tacos – but those are still to be judged.
The cake, though. Ugh, it’s taking all of your self-control not to smash your face in it and wallow in self-pity. He’s going to be home in a few minutes and you have nothing to show him for his birthday because you went in over your head. Damn it, you should have just reserved a table at your favorite restaurant like he told you and not try your hand at this surprise birthday dinner thing.
The front door opened and closed and you managed a steady breath – and not shove the cake into the garbage bin – before you heard Matthew’s voice echo throughout your house.
“Babe,” he yelled from the foyer, “are you ready? Let me just change, okay?” you heard him go up the stairs and into your room.
You looked at the romantic setup you did on the patio and let out a resigned sigh. Your food can taste as bad as you think it will but at least the patio looks like it was taken out of a Pinterest board so that’s definitely a yay.
Mattew called from the room and you assumed that he just read the note you left on the bed, along with a new game day suit you had tailored for him. You can still recite the note from memory, “wear this suit like it’s a Flames versus Oilers game and come down to the patio. Your gift is waiting. ;)”
Running your hand on the invisible creases on your dress, you took the plates of salad – appetizers because your foolish self thought you can serve a four course dinner – and placed them on the table at the backyard.
Then you downed a glass of wine, just because.
Fuuuuck. Why are you even nervous? Your hands are clammy like you’re some seventh grader going to her first school dance. You’re also breathing heavily like you just got locked up in a closet with your all-time crush.
This is just dinner. With your boyfriend. Not the president of the United States of America.
You’ve smelled his farts and popped his backne. You’ll be fine.
Stop acting like this is the first time he’ll taste your cooking because if he can survive the disaster that was your all-beef burger, he can survive your cake apocalypse.
You heard footsteps descend the stairs and you just about vomited all over the carpet.
Is it too late to call your mom?
Maybe you can just get takeout? Indian food sounds amazing right now.
Finally, the broad-shouldered hockey softie rounded the corner, wearing his new suit with his hair combed to perfection.
He stopped and almost backtracked when he saw you, a smirk automatically forming on his lips, “I mean, if you’re the gift then yes,” he chuckled, walking slowly over to you, “I’ll take it,” he whispered, stopping a feet or two away. He raised his hand and cupped your cheek, “wow,” he said in a gently voice, “you look beautiful.”
You managed a small smile, casting some of the worries aside, “happy birthday, Mat-mat.”
He nodded once, “happy birthday indeed,” he said before kissing you swiftly.
When he finally pulled back, you stepped aside and waited until he noticed the open doors that led to your back porch. He stared at your backyard for a few beats before looking back at you.
Before he can even say something, you stood behind him and started pushing him forward and outside, “now I know when you told me to surprise you, you were referring to the restaurant reservations,” you said hurriedly, “but I had this crazy idea of doing a romantic dinner at home,” you sniggered awkwardly, “what I lack in cooking skills, I made up with my decorating skills, I promise,” you laughed.
You stopped just outside and stood beside him, looking out at the strung fairy lights, the wooden table and chairs, the flowers you managed to pick up this afternoon. Hell, you even did an arc thing. This is straight up an Anthropologie catalogue pictorial shit and you’re damn proud of yourself.
You looked up at Matt to gauge his reaction, “I don’t know if your lack of reaction is a good thing or a bad thing,” you chuckled.
Looking down at you, you realized that your boyfriend – the guy who’s been logging penalty minutes like they’re minutes on ice – had tears in his eyes, “you did this for me?”
You nodded, “I wouldn’t do it for anyone else,” you told him, “don’t be fooled though, the cake looks like it was made by a baby.”
“I’ll eat it,” he said with a definite tone.
“The steak may also be as hard as a rock.”
“Probably the best steak I will ever have in my entire life.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you laughed.
Mattie’s expressions softened, his gaze fixed on you, before pulling you into him, hugging you close. You felt him kiss the top of your head before leaning down to kiss your nose. Leaning even farther, kissing you on the lips tenderly, “I love you.”
You stood on your tiptoes and gave him another kiss, “say that again after the cake.”
Matt shook his head, “still probably would.”
“I love you too,” you chuckled, “you’re amazing and you deserve everything, Mattie. Happy birthday.”
He chuckled, “best birthday ever.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” you laughed, pointing to his side of the table, “it’s not even the best part yet.”
“Is the cake the best part?” he sniggered.
Rolling your eyes, you pulled him to the table and waited as he picked the passes that you tucked under the plate earlier.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he mumbled as he read and reread the passes, “you got me tickets?” he asked, a look of awe on his face.
You shrugged, “I may or may not have called and stalked people for those,” you told him with a snort. You tapped the tickets with your finger, “VIP because you’re the VIP of my heart,” you winked, “I know you wanted to go to your favorite band’s show in Edmonton but you couldn’t get tickets so I looked for them for you.”
He grinned, “I love you.”
“I know,” you cackled, “I love you too.”
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagines#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#imagines#drabble#drabbles#my writing#fanfic#calgary flames
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Matthew Tkachuk #4
Requested by Anon: Hi! its the matthew tkachuk anon.... no problem I've definitely lost documents before. The request was basically just you knew matty from home and were a year younger than him so when he was drafted you were in a LDR... something like that you can change it or whatever up to you
*Here it is finally!! I remember the original one being something completely different than this but I can’t rewrite the whole thing. Sorry again about that. I hope you still like this though. Enjoy!:)*
Word count: 1, 039
A grainy video of Sam Bennett answered the video call.
“Did I call the wrong number?” you laughed, waving at him through the camera.
You heard his chuckle a second before you saw his mouth move, “he’s in the kitchen,” he stood up, “I’ll bring you to him and the internet is better there, hold on.”
You nodded, “thanks,” you rolled on your bed and held your iPad up, “you should think about cutting your hair,” you told him as the video showed one muscular arm give the phone to another.
“Babe,” a shirtless Matthew Tkachuk finally entered the frame, “I thought we were doing this at nine tonight?”
You looked at the time in your tablet, “it is nine.”
A look of realization passed through his face before looking at the camera with a sheepish smile, “sorry,” he offered, “I thought we were talking about nine, my time.”
You just gave him a smile for an answer.
Long distance relationships are the worst thing that could ever have happened to you. The only thing that made it slightly – really really slightly – was the fact that Matthew Tkachuk is probably the best thing you have going in your life right now.
The static-y voice of your boyfriend came through again, “you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”
You sighed but kept your smile up, “it’s just school is all,” you shrugged, making sure to arrange your features, “and I miss you, Matty,” you told him, “I know it’s just been months but you’re so far,” you whined.
At least when he was still playing in London, he’d have a few days off every few months, “this is the longest stretch we haven’t seen each other.”
He nodded, still chopping whatever it was he was chopping, “but the buildup is better, don’t you think?” he laughed.
“No,” you told him grumpily.
He lifted the onions from the chopping board and shoved it front of the camera, “is this enough for the pasta sauce?”
You snorted, remembering that he was learning how to cook, “I guess,” you said, watching him turn around and taste something from a pot.
Moaning, Matthew gave you a glance, “babe, you’re going to love me more once you get a taste of my cooking,” he chuckled, “simply irresistible.“
You looked at the picture on your bedside table, the one from his draft day, “I don’t know,” you grinned, “I’ve tasted your scrambled eggs and,” you laughed, “I don’t want to experience that again.”
He pointed the ladle at the camera, “you say that now,” he sighed, “you’re going to love it here.”
“I’m sure,” you agreed, “I always love it when I’m around you,” you told him sincerely before cackling, “I’ve been getting too emotional every time we FaceTime, it’s the worst.”
From the other end, Matt frowned, “I think it’s cute,” he smiled at you, “I like it.”
He turned around to open the cupboard, reaching up for something.
And that’s when you saw it.
You’ve been around countless athletes and you’ve seen him naked a handful of times to know that, even with the grainy image, he had a big bruise forming on his back. It was a nasty piece of garbage.
“Matt,” you said, sitting up to look at it closely, “what’s that on your shoulder?”
He still had his back behind you but his left hand instinctively touched the bruise, his head inclining in a familiar way that told you the bruise was painful.
“It’s nothing, just a little bump,” he said nonchalantly, as if a European-sized contusion was ‘nothing’.
These were the things you hated the most in a long distance relationship: that you have to wait for him to volunteer the details of small things. When he was still living in the same city, you would have known about the bruise the minute it happened, you wouldn’t have to ask him repeatedly about what he had for dinner and if he was still starving.
Little things.
Now, you have gotten into the habit of reading the news after every game because that’s the only way you’d know if that high stick from the first period really took out his tooth or if he had an ankle sprain because he was skating in a funny way during the third.
“We’re okay, though, right?” you just had to ask, “Matt?”
He stopped what he was doing, picked the phone, and looked straight into the camera, “of course, why would you think the opposite?” he asked, “just because of a small bruise?”
You shook your heard, leaning your back against the headboard, “I just wanted to make sure.”
He held his finger up to the screen of his phone, touching the glass. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to imagine that he was touching your face, “we were playing around yesterday,” he explained in a hoarse voice, “and Gio shoved me a little too strongly,” he shrugged, “that’s all.”
“You sure? Did you ice it?” you asked.
He nodded, smiling now, “and this is why I didn’t tell you,” he showed you the bruise, “this is okay,” he said, shifting the camera back to his face again, “I can take it, I’m fine,” he assured, “I didn’t tell you because I know you’ll bite your nails and worry,” he continued, “I don’t want you to worry.”
“But I always worry,” you told him, “and I want you to tell me because I feel like I’m missing out and you know how much I want to be there with and for you, Matty,” you groaned, “this sucks.”
“I know,” he nodded, “and I know you’d be here if you had the choice,” he said gingerly, “it would’ve been better if I went to my home team, huh? Or at least Nashville or Chicago.
You chuckled, “I can do a four-hour drive every weekend.”
A few seconds of silence passed before he said something.
“You’re not missing out,” you heard him say, “and you’ve always been with me during the big things and that’s what matters most.”
“I wanna be there during the little things too.”
“You are,” he grinned, “you’re always with me,” he winked, “so, hang in there okay?”
You chuckled and gave him a salute, “seatbelts fastened, captain!”
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagines#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#imagines#drabble#drabbles#my writing#fanfic#calgary flames
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Johnny Gaudreau #6
Requested by Anon: Can you do one with Johnny Gaudreau and can it be really cute and adorable like so cute and adorable it hurts like so adorable that it will cause physical pain and can it involve piggyback rides (i Like being carried IDK)
*I hope this is adorable and cute enough! Aaaah, this made mer nervous because I don’t want to disappoint you since you waited so long. Anyway, enjoy! :)*
Word count: 973
There are five things you really don’t want to do in public. You don’t mind streaking through anywhere, you might have done it once or twice in your life, but that’s just your body and meh, it’s not bad. If you can look at it every day, then fuck, they can look at it once in their lives. Except those five things just give you goosebumps.
Here is the list of the five things you hate doing in public: (1) peeing in public. You came THISCLOSE to doing it – the peeing not the… ugh, you and your dirty mind – in one of those music festivals. You were very drunk and really needed to pee but you were just glad you kept it in until your favorite band finished their set. (2) pooping in public. Because. (3) spitting in public because it’s just never going to happen. It’s not ladylike and you weren’t raised like that. Ha, your mom will be so proud. (4) adjusting your girls in front of people. It happens to everyone – one of them just goes below the underwire of your bra every once in a while and YOU. JUST. HAVE. TO. ADJUST. IT. Just a little shimmy but nope, can’t do it. Not doing it. And lastly (5) you are not best friends with public displays of affection. Oh, you don’t mind the hand holding and the kissing but there is just something about acting all cute and lovey-dovey in front of strangers that get to you. Of course you’re different when it’s just you and Johnny but that’s another story.
Yeah, Johnny… Gaudreau, your boyfriend. Also the guy staring down at you while you wince in pain, cowered in the corner of the outdoor rink at Bowness Park.
“No,” you glared at him.
You kicked your good foot out, “this is all your fault,” you whined, “it was your idea to come here at the break of dawn,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “I told you I can’t see in the dark.”
You heard him chuckle as he dropped on the ice beside you, “it’s six in the morning, it’s not that dark anymore,” he pointed out, “and I told you to double check your skates,” Johnny rolled his eyes, “I told you to make sure you laced them well,” he sniggered before adjusting your beanie, making sure that it covered your ears.
You fell on the ice and sprained your ankle. It’s a good thing not a lot of people are here, since it’s not even breakfast time yet, because the fall was not pretty. You were a flailing mess that went down with an ear-piercing scream. Your boyfriend might be partially deaf on his left ear for a while but it’s still his fault for bringing you here this early.
“Wait here,” he jumped out of the rink and skated to where you put your things before coming back in his boots.
Crouching in front of you, he said, “hop on.”
That was the clang of your jaw hitting the ground, “what?”
He looked back at you and smiled, “hop on, I’m giving you a ride to the benches.”
“No,” you told him, frowning, “I am perfectly capable of skating back, thank you,” you tried to stand up but dropped back on the ice when you realized that you weren’t standing up anytime soon.
“Come on, it’s thirty feet,” he grinned, “do it.”
You hate this.
You love him though so maybe that trumps all. Plus you really need to get off the ice before your butt starts freezing.
He scooted lower until his back was against you. He put both your arms around his neck before hoisting your thighs on his sides, “ready?” he asked before standing up and bringing you with him.
Some of the teenage girls who recognized him looked at you and giggled.
“Hate you,” you said, burying your face on the crook of his neck.
Johnny started walking back to the benches and you felt the vibrations of his chuckle, “love you,” he simply said.
You raised your head and touched his cheek with yours, tightening your arms around him, “you’re warm,” you giggled, rubbing your cheek on his, “I might like this more than I thought I would.”
He bounced you up and adjusted his hold on you before turning his head, “you like this,” he told you, kissing you on your nose, “period.”
You puckered your lips and closed your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. You felt the soft touch of his lips on yours before he pulled back and sighed, “what am I going to do with you?” he chuckled.
“Zero idea,” you giggled, “but be careful with my skates, it might cut you,” you said, looking down at how your legs were just hanging off of him. You embraced him even more and tucked your chin on his shoulder, “you might need to carry me around like this if the sprain is bad.”
He looked at you sideways before smiling, “no complaints right there,” he said, “I like keeping you close.”
You finally reached one of the fire pits and sat on the bench surrounding it. Johnny had you sitting sideways on the bench, your injured foot propped on his lap. He rubbed his gloved hands together before cupping his mouth and blowing on them. Once he felt that his hands were warm enough, he put them on each of your cheeks.
“Warm?” he asked.
You beamed at him and nodded, “yup,” you scooted until you were able to put your hands on his cheeks too, “you?”
He smiled wider, “sure,” he pulled your face closer to him and gave you another swift kiss, “love you.”
“Love you too,” you whispered, “and despite the sprain and the PDA, thank you for bringing me here.”
#johnny gaudreau#johnny gaudreau imagines#nhl imagines#hockey imagines#imagines#drabble#drabbles#my writing#fanfic#calgary flames
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