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#letters to barzy
bordysbae · 1 year
Note
Can I please get 11 with barzy
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“wrong team”
mathew barzal x female reader
11. “can i get your number?”
i hope it’s okay i kind of changed it from number to instagram since it was more fitting! if you want me to change it to number just lmk!! <3
“i cannot believe that you’re wearing a wild jersey right now, you should be ashamed” your friend jackson exclaims. “oh hush, when we beat the islanders i’ll laugh in your face” “yeah yeah whatever you think,” he says. “honestly i cant believe we’re even sitting with you, aren’t you embarrassed to be wearing a minnesota jersey at the home of the islanders?!” your other friend sierra jokes, earning a chuckle from both you and jackson. “okay okay quit it you two” you roll your eyes playfully.
clearly you’re a minnesota wild fan, but you’re living in new york. you and your best friends got tickets to a wild vs islanders game, and somehow managed to get tickets not only right by the ice, but also next to the penalty box. the teams begin to come out for warmups and you and your friends watch as the players skate right by you. although you don’t really care for any of the islanders players, of course you know who they are. you begin to look at your phone as sierra and jackson fan over their favorite players, until suddenly someone bumps into the glass right in front of you, causing you to flinch. you instantly look up and see none other than mathew barzal looking back at you. he has a disappointed look on his face and you shrug out of confusion. he points to your jersey, and you start laughing.
“wrong team” he mouths to you before skating off. you’re stood there in shock as sierra and jackson freak out over what just happened. “holy shit y/n! that was insane! why are you not freaking out?!” “i am! but i don’t really care for the islanders, let alone the one and only cocky mathew barzal.” you chuckle, making your friends roll their eyes at you. suddenly before the teams exit the ice to change into their game jerseys, mat comes back to where you and your friends are standing. he’s holding a puck in his hand, and he tosses it over, making sure only you get it.
your mouth falls agape out of pure confusion. why is he giving me a puck if i’m wearing the opposing teams jersey?? you think to yourself. as you look at the puck you notice something written along the side of it in semi-sloppy silver handwriting. you audibly gasp as you read what was written across the puck, grabbing both of your friends attention. “what?! what does it say?” sierra asks. “it says, ‘can i get your insta?’ on it!” “no way, you’re lying!” jackson says. “i’m not look!” you hand him the puck, and he starts to read it. “how do i give him my instagram?” you question. “ma’am i thought you ‘didn’t care for mathew barzal’ or am i hearing things” sierra pokes your side. “shut up, he’s hot and he’s an nhl player who asked for my instagram. now help me figure out how to get him my insta!” “the game is starting, we’ll figure it out later!” jackson says as he puts his phone away.
turns out there was no need to figure it out later, because mat had a plan all along. 12 minutes into the first period mat “accidentally” got a penalty for high sticking. as he skates his way into the penalty box, you watch as he smiles at you. you instantly grab your phone and type in large letters your instagram username, which thankfully is something simple. mat nods, as he exits the penalty box and returns back to the ice.
after the game is over you don’t have much luck with getting any other chances of communicating with mat, and you assume he’s already forgotten your name, that’s until a notification appears on your phone.
barzal97 has requested to follow you.
you gasp, shocked that he must’ve written down your name during intermission, or that he remembered it. either way he was being totally serious, and you still couldn’t comprehend. after a few minutes of panicking, you press accept and you start following him back.
mat: hey, i didn’t forget your name!
you: after all the effort you put in to learn it, i’d really hope you wouldn’t forget it
mat: luckily i didn’t. anyways, i have a couple questions for you
you: alright shoot ‘em at me
mat: well first, what brings you, what im assuming to be a minnesotan, to new york?
you: work and college. i went to nyu and now im living here full time.
mat: ah i see, yet you’re not an islanders fan aye?
you: my best friends are, they both grew up here. that’s who i was with tonight
mat: i see i see, although you’re rooting for the wrong team, i was wondering if maybe i could take you out sometime.
you: hmm i’d have to see. i think i’m pretty busy rooting for the wrong team, mr. barzal
mat: how’s friday at 7?
you: perfect.
550 notes · View notes
ladylooch · 2 years
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Current Master List
Updated: 1.12.2024 | plz read rules here before requesting 😘
Purple Text indicates a series/ LadyLooch AU
Smut is indicated with a * ; 18+ content, Minors DNI
Mat Barzal
Drunk Me
Your Protector *
Barzy on a First Date
College Graduation
Sweet Caretaker
Anthony Beauvillier
Begin Again
Kevin Fiala
Letters in your Last Name (Series) *
Magic in the Kitchen * & The Best Part of It * & Beach Day
All Star
Hot Tub Smut *
Nico Hischier
What My World Spins Around (Series) *
Handsy in Target
Where I'm Supposed to Be
Hurt on the Road
Ours *
Protector
Nico's Biggest Fan *
Next Morning
The Devil and a Ranger *
What the Doctor Ordered
Clingy
A Night of Firsts *
Morning After
Zebras on a roof top
Part 2
Tik Tok Torture
part 2
Fake *
You're Not The One
Flower Picking *
Swiss Showers *
Crossing Paths
A Real Man *
At Home with Nico
Losing Control *
Unexpected
No Nut November *
Nico's New Girlfriend
Movie Night at Home
Summer Heat *
Nico Hischier and Anniversaries *
Yoga
Recovery *
His Superstar *
Anything to you *
Island Injury
Halloween Let Down
Nico Hischier & Timo Meier & Kevin Fiala
Lio & Lucie ( Hischier & Meier cousin Blurb Series) *
Liv X Luca (Meier & Fiala kids Blurb Series) *
Adrian Kempe
Another Round of Me and You * & Yours
Greener Side of that Fence
Soft Moments
40
Skating Coach
Friends to Lovers & New Girlfriend
The Way You Look Tonight
Parallel Lines
Timo Meier
Loving & Leaving (Series) *
Never Til Now *
Inexperienced *
New Neighbor in Jersey
Nailed It *
Keep My Head Up
Beard Burn *
Halifax *
More of This
Flashing *
Skating with the Sharks
Eager Beaver *
Yacht In Ibiza *
John Marino
Odds were against us
Trevor Moore
Choose Me
Brady Skjei
All About You *
Bacon
Tie Me Up *
Miles Wood
Shot In the Dark AU (Series) *
Size Matters *
Nothing Like Her
Days Like This
Mile High Miles *
Bookworm
I Need a Big Boy *
Perfect Storm
All I'm Seeing is Red *
Concert with your big boy
403 notes · View notes
starry-hughes · 10 months
Note
dial drunk is tyler duke. ik everyone would think it’s mooch but i just see tyler trying to get over mooch not reading his letter and hearing ab her with kent like it’s just perfect for him
you think? idk i wanted to use dial drunk for mooch and tyler but i listened to it this morning and thought of barzy but idk
i want to ready listen to the songs hard before deciding
6 notes · View notes
barzzal · 3 years
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between halls and thin walls → part five
summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.
↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you
↳ warnings: implied f receiving, after sex conversations, sex toys (usage and discussion), sexual/suggestive themes, language and swearing, jealousy, mutual pining, awful lot of gate keeping, and rules getting broken one by one ;p
↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+
↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four, part five (10.9k), part six
↳ masterlist: the barn
↳ track: kiss me more by doja cat, tweety by raveena
note: been a hot minute!! one last part left though <3 anw, feedbacks are always appreciated, let me know what you think! enjoy reading 💕
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Something was off and he was sure of it. 
The way he spoke to you was different. There was a certain softness in his voice that was never truly there before; at least from his recollection. 
Even the way he moved around you was different. It was guarded and cautious just like how he moves around someone he likes. 
The way he looks at you, the way he smiles at you, and the way he touches you.
It was all different in Mathew’s eyes. 
He didn’t want to think much of it because he was in no place to do so, but good god, if only you knew how seeing Anthony touch you so differently made him want to snatch you out of his hold. If only you knew how he wanted it so bad, because as far as you were concerned, he knew you’d be better off in his arms. 
It’s almost as if Anthony knew what was happening between the two of you; but Mathew was uncertain. 
He needed to remove that from all the other possibilities. He was sure that you were careful and that Anthony still did not have much of a clue even after what he had seen in the elevator. 
He couldn’t bring himself to think about what to say because no matter how hard he even tries to explain himself, he knew that he took advantage of the situation just as much as you did; and he still doesn’t know how to tell Tito that he went behind his back and fooled around with his best friend. 
He wants to take responsibility for the entire situation not just to be chivalrous, but mostly because he respects you and Tito that much. 
However, respect doesn’t weigh in on how he saw Anthony recently.
He hated how Tito made a handful of passes at you and he hated that you always let him. He hated how he was all up your ass for most days that he couldn’t even grab a chance to spend time with you. 
He’s so close to hating Tito’s guts genuinely that he’s certainly sure he hated himself for feeling this irksome thing he can’t seem to put a finger on. 
A feeling that’s been lingering inside him, a feeling that he knows won’t go away no matter how hard he tries, and of course, a feeling that only you can tend to.
Ever since Tito introduced you to Mathew, he’s known how his best friend treated you. He saw how he moved around you. He saw that despite how close the two of you were, there will never be something more than just you and Tito treating each other as siblings. No more no less. 
But after spending the last few days observing how Tito took subtle glances your way, or how he always finds a way - a reason, to put his hand on your back so casually, Mathew knew those innocent passes were far from being one and he hated how you were too caught up treating Tito so good to even see it. 
You and Tito were in the middle of exchanging what seems to be the worst Peaky Blinders impressions of all when Mat walks out the hall and into the archway leading towards the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep off his eyes. 
It wasn’t everyday where he got to wake up to an obnoxiously loud household filled with nothing else but Tito’s mortifying laughter. A sound that immediately makes him want to choke-out the living hell off of Beauvillier.
As your giggles die down once you see him enter the room, Tito who was without a doubt starting to bother Mathew, comes at him with a mocking snide, laced in an Irish accent butchered by a French-Canadian man.
“You’re up awfully early.” 
Shut the fuck up.
Said murdered accent, despite causing Mat to roll his eyes, has easily brought a laugh quite bewitching in his ears. 
One that was followed by yet another endearing smile, your lips curving so beautifully before his grays as you shoot a wink and say, “Morning, princess.” 
“We made breakfast, want some?” you ask, your hand already reaching for the cupboards to fix him up a plate. 
Mat runs a hand through his mess of a hair and throws in a nod and a polite smile just as he sits on one of the bar stools. 
There was a sheer silence for a little while, at least for Mathew. 
Tito was kind enough to pour him a cup of coffee. His kind gesture, albeit innate and genuine on Anthony’s end, made Mat realize the possible reason behind the all too familiar white shirt flowing just above your thigh, indisputably hiding your teal jammies underneath.
“Is that your shirt?” Mat’s curiosity exuded off him with just the right amount of suspicion that he fails an attempt to whisper, thus making you chime in between the two of them. 
“Oh. Yeah, thanks to this smartass.” you give your best friend a side eye, something that was then reciprocated by a pretend-scoff by Anthony, causing his dramatic distress to miff every waking nerve in Mathew’s body.
“You’re both weird.” he snarks, not necessarily fond of seeing you in a shirt that wasn’t his. 
He takes the plateful of breakfast avocado toast you just handed him and stood from his seat, almost rushing out the room if only you hadn’t called him. 
“Aren’t you gonna eat with us?” you ask, quite taken aback by the rudeness he has exhibited so early in the morning. 
Mathew would’ve taken his snarky comment back if it wasn’t for Tito’s hand resting innocently on the small of your back whilst he looks at him, blue eyes waiting for another word he’s yet to throw like the child everyone’s always expected him to be. 
Even if he didn’t want to, waking up pissed at Tito for no absolute reason wasn’t something Mat wanted to get used to. Such repetition was beginning to annoy him in unexplainable ways, sort of like a tic he can’t get rid of. 
He turns to face the two of you and puts the plate back, retreating at once with only the cup of coffee in his hand, “I’m not that hungry.”
“What’s with him?” you ask Tito the moment Mat has left the room. 
Tito’s hand immediately leaves your back as he moves away from you. He sits in his usual seat, leaning on his forearms as he shrugs. 
Not realizing the blues subtly watching you from the distance, you follow Mathew’s tracks, unusually wanting to know what caused such drama. 
He wasn’t a grumpy person nor was he ever always in a mood, so you feel the need to make sure that he’s all right. 
You know, after all, friends do look out after each other. 
“Hey,” you call and Tito hums, picking up his phone to read a recent article about the team posted on the Athletic.
“D’you still have that power cable I lent you? I need an extra one.” you inquire, fiddling with your fingers underneath the marbled top. 
“Yeah. It’s in my room.” he casually answers.
“Would you mind if I go get it?” you ask, testing the waters as you carefully examine how Anthony would react. But to your relief, he just thinks for a second, takes a sip of his coffee and smiles at you.
“Why would I?” he questions with his head faintly tilted. He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “It’s on top of my desk, probably tucked in somewhere with my stuff, but you can just look around.” 
“Got it.” you give him a tight-lipped smile, putting your coffee down before exiting the kitchen. 
Once you’re out of Anthony’s sight, you tread past his bedroom door and instead aim for Mat’s. You knock on the hardwood as carefully as you can so as not to make a noise that might possibly cause unnecessary questions from the other roommate. 
“It’s open.” you hear Mat’s muted voice from the inside. 
You take a deep breath and let your hand feel the same cold knob that has welcomed you every night you two get involved. 
You see him packing up a bag for a two-game series the team is going to have the next day against Philadelphia. He sees you peek your head through the door, finding utter admiration of your bare state. 
“What’s up?” he tries to sound casual, inviting you in.
You trail your way to him and place both of your hands inside your pockets, “Nothing, really. I guess I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”
Surprised, and a tad giddy of what you’d just said, Mathew quirks his brows - trying to play it cool, yet again. 
“What made you think I wasn’t?” 
You shrug, puffing air out of your mouth with how defensive Mat was starting to be. “I don’t know. You’ve been kind of moody around Beau lately.”
Mathew breathes deeply and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair as he faces you. 
You watch his toned chest move along with his breathing, painting quite a picture in your head as the unsought image of Mat hovering on top of you enters your mind. You can almost feel the way your fingers ran and traced the lines on his alabaster skin. The connection you feel with him has become so palpable that your fingers twitch at the mere thought of it. 
Being with each other, regardless of whose room it was, or how late it was into the night, begin to catch up with the two of you. You’ve been more comfortable around Mat as he was with you. Sure, there were no feelings, (at least what you’ve been telling yourself lately), but you can’t entirely dismiss the fact that Mat, in spite of everything that he’s not, is beginning to become someone you can’t imagine losing. 
That alone has made this entire engagement a lot more complicated than you’ve first expected.
“That’s just… work stuff. You have nothing to worry about.” he says, smiling half-heartedly. 
You tuck your hair behind your ear, “Well if there is, you’d tell me, right?”
Mat steps closer, his body now inches away from yours that you can almost feel his breathing, “No lies. That’s the rule.” he whispers, admittedly fighting himself from wanting to grab the waistband of your shorts and just pin you against the door. Your bodies are now incredibly close - exclusive for one another.
You reciprocate his gaze with the same level of intensity, like an instinct; something that just comes natural when the two of you are left alone in a room. 
Mat lets himself bask in the string of distance separating the two of you, neither wanting to cross nor break yet another line. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for a thing - a hint, that’s still uncertain on his end. 
It’s as if he was trying to confirm something that isn’t truly there yet. 
“Right, the rules.” you flutter your eyes, clicking your tongue as you briefly chuckle. Shortly, you break away from the stand off. 
“We don’t wanna mess with that.” you smile the moment you’ve let your own personal space consume you. 
“So, everything’s good then?” you bite your lower lip in anticipation.
Mathew nods before turning on his heels, grabbing an Islander hoodie from the corner of his bed.
“Of course.” he answers, more of a polite response than an assurance.
With his broad back already facing you, you turn and head towards the door. 
Your hand has already twisted the knob when Mat speaks, making you turn around once more. 
“Whose door is it gonna be later?” he asks, his grip on the hoodie tightening as he waits for your answer. 
Truth be told, Mat didn’t think about all the stuff that came with it. You know, the part where he gets to test his mattress with you and vise-versa. Perhaps, this time he just wanted to spend some time with a friend and a time away from Tito.
Great relief waves off his chest once he sees you break a foolish grin, accompanied by an all too familiar eye-roll he’s begun to associate with you (and only you): a habit he’s definitely grown fond of. 
“If you manage to keep this place tidy by then, it might be this one.” you tell him, tapping onto the wood lightly as you eye the entirety of Mat’s mess of a bedroom. 
He’s still packing, so he gets a pass. 
Mat shakes his head unabashed, unable to suppress a smile that effortlessly mirrored yours, “Noted.”
𖥸
The Islanders were in the bliss of a 7 game winning streak so that means the aura of the house was light and days were often spent eating take outs for dinner, or the boys constantly goofing around to bug you after their morning skate. Nevertheless, you were glad they were enjoying their wins and weren’t being hard on themselves like they’d usually be whenever they lose a game. 
They were off work today and Tito brought up the almost wiped out pantry. 
Mat wasn’t home at the time he asked you to go grocery shopping with him so when he came out of his room from his afternoon nap, Mat was quite surprised to see you ready to go with your purse and the key fob to your car in hand. 
“Where are you off to?” Mat asks, putting his pull-over sweater over his shirt.
“Tito and I are going out for a grocery run. Want me to get you something?” you ask Mat with a distinct softness in your voice; one that you knew you have never used on anyone before. Thus, sending quite a warm feeling on his end. 
He crunches his nose in the same adorable way he always does and thinks for a second. He wanted nothing else but to go with you. He wanted to spend time with you. He wanted to hang out, you know, as buddies.
“Nothing, really. I can come with you though.” he says, shrugging seconds later trying to play it cool. “You know, just in case you need extra help with the bags.” he initiates, reaching for his jacket and sneakers when Anthony strides your way, giving off an unusual vibe visible only in Mat’s eyes. 
Tito cocks his brows at him as he picks up his wallet from the accent bowl, “I got this, man. I know how much you hate doing errands.” he grins, a biting tone masked in it. 
You didn’t think much of what Tito said and made your way out the apartment presuming that it was just one of their usual banters. You shook your head heading for the elevator down the hall. It’s like living with two stubborn 6 year-old kids with these boys, to be honest.
“Wait, Y/N might need–” Mat gets cut off when he’s met by Anthony’s firm hand instinctively placed against his chest. 
“Just chill, man.” he shuts him out with a bold mocking grin, making Mathew frown, puzzled as to why Anthony was being weird about him tagging along. 
He knew there was something different with him. He wasn’t that dumb not to see it and he knew that Tito wasn’t even trying to hide it. 
However, just like he suspected, the last thing he needed to seal such an intuition came with the words Anthony uttered; all in a tone that was just enough to make Mat’s jaw clench in seconds, presented to him as beautiful and as precise as a motherfucking hat trick.
“Besides,” Tito smirks, “you’re not the only one who gets to help around.”
𖥸
How you saw Anthony was one thing, but how he saw you? Was definitely another. 
He’s sure not even you could comprehend how much you mean to him or how much he’d be willing to go through for the sake of ensuring that you get to come home with him to Montreal in one piece (Or else your mom’s definitely gonna give him more than just an earful). 
As cliché as it sounds, you’ve always thought of him like your long lost brother; a hand that’s always held yours through all the good and the bad you’ve managed to get yourself into. He loved you dearly especially at times you weren’t capable of loving yourself. 
But Anthony,— you have no idea how much that man looks after you. Perhaps, a little too much to be just some brotherly love because he’d gladly go through great lengths for you. Hell, he knows he’d even take a bullet for your dumbass. 
Which is certainly a thing that’s highly likely to happen considering your questionable decisions in life recently. 
To put it simply, Anthony is never Anthony without Y/N and neither are you without him. Thus, the very reason why you have no idea how hard it is for him to be swept away just like that the moment he finally realizes what was going on between you and Mat after having to put all the pieces together by himself. 
Tito can be clueless at times but he was far from being an idiot. He wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t stupid. And he certainly didn’t like how you thought you could hide these kinds of things from him. 
If only he could figure out why you hadn’t told him what was going on— if only you’d just come up to him and make him understand, then maybe all things drilling his brain all at once would finally dissipate, and he could finally settle down and ease things out for both of his best friends. 
Stupid— but best friends.
You were his responsibility the moment you moved on the island. It’s at least how he likes to keep in mind, not that you needed his saving or anybody else’s because you’ve always held your ground ever since. 
It’s just that, as someone who has been an older brother to you and a previous wingman to Mathew, (one that has always experienced every little dirt your little friend has gotten himself into firsthand) he’s certainly someone Beau wasn’t fond of seeing sneaking into your bedroom at three in the fucking a.m. 
“I didn’t know which one you wanted so I got both.” Tito walks up to you holding a large pack of frozen cherries in one hand and a couple of Maraschinos in the other. 
“Let’s take both.” you reply, letting him have the shopping cart whilst you lead the way towards the meat section. 
“D’you wanna have Katsudon for dinner tonight? I’m sick of ordering out.” you whine, already thinking of cooking up some good Japanese food for later. 
A house with bland white boys? Boring. Sometimes it’s nice to think you’re the reason why they even have  the tiniest bit of personality up their sleeves.
Tito mutters a faint ‘sure’ as he quietly follows after your track with the back of your head never leaving his sight. He observes your every move despite not seeing anything different worth noting like the kind he had seen a little over a week ago in the apartment elevator.
You and Mat thought that you were both being smooth when Mathew told Tito he was just showing you the ropes of picking up men at a singles bar you were just at on the island. It was the lamest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Hell, a seven-year-old kid could even come up with a much better lie than that. But since you thought Anthony bought it, you went along Mat’s very much inherent stupidity off the ice. 
You being nervous was an understatement as to how you’ve felt for the entirety of the week that followed. 
You and Mat had to lighten things up that it even came to a point where the two of you hastily agreed not to sleep together anymore. However, just like always, you’ve managed to slip a night or two in even more sophisticated ways than before. 
You signal Tito to stop upon seeing the Haagen Dazs fridge situated near the end of the aisle. 
Grocery shopping was certainly your thing with him considering the years that the two of you have been living together and although Anthony knew how much you love ice cream, next to frozen yogurt of course; he’s yet to see you pick up a Bubblegum flavored one. 
“Really? Bubblegum?” Tito asks, his forearms resting on the cart handle. 
You furrow your brows as you place the tub into the cart. “Yeah. Why not?” 
“I didn’t know you liked that flavor now.” he says, a bit melancholic for the real thing he wanted to say. 
Instinctively, you looked at him with your eyes bewildered and amused for hearing Tito assumed you liked one of the god-awful flavors there will ever be for a treat. 
“Me? God no. It’s for Mat.” you say, unconsciously sounding like a girlfriend picking up stuff for her person.
“Huh. You two have been really close these days.” he sighs, smiling. “That’s nice.”
Cautious upon realizing how you must have sounded, you subtly shrug the notion off and averted his eyes. 
“What? Me and Mat? Please.” you deny and try to save yourself, “I’m just tired of him eating all of our stuff in the fridge. I figured I might as well let him have something he actually likes.” 
Tito nods for the sake of letting the discourse go. 
“So… Katsu?” he asks again despite sounding like it was the first time, followed by a tight-lipped smile. 
He knew it. He already did. Right from the moment he saw you opened the door to Mat’s new apartment. The very apartment he scouted with him, himself.
He just wants to hear it from you. Not from Mathew. You.
Your mistake, however, was accidentally meeting his eyes, not wanting to see how it looked right through yours. 
Nevertheless, despite the pang in your heart caused by the ever same mutual understanding and connection that you have undeniably always had shared with him, you quietly reciprocated the softness exuding off his demeanor. 
Almost making you tear up.
“Yeah, Katsu.” you confirm. 
𖥸
Your eyes never left Tito as the two of you head out to the parking lot. You’re a smart woman. You should’ve known. 
Of course, he’d feel something’s up, he’s trained to have reflexes for the game alone. 
Who were you to underestimate his capability to catch up on the dirt you’ve purposely swept and kept under his very own home? Guess, there are some things you overlooked; things that you can’t just easily brush off. Especially when it involves Tito.
As you held tightly to your keys, you followed Anthony’s track. He’s holding most of the bags even though you’ve offered countless times to carry some of it. He didn’t have a hard time though, given his profession. You press on a button to unlock your car so he could load the bags at the back. 
Instead of heading towards your door, you grab a bag that Beau was just about to get himself, thus earning his attention. 
He looked at you the same way he did right after your conversation in front of an ice cream fridge. He gives you a faint smile, lifting the bag with his free hand whilst the other secured the ones placed on top of another bag. 
“Beau,” you utter, obviously struggling to find the words. 
Anthony sighs, knowing full well what’s going on in your mind. Despite wanting to acknowledge your invitation, he just looks at you and waits on what’s about to come next. 
You watch him arch his brows faintly as if to give you a chance to explain yourself, that there’s no point in lying because he already knows. 
“Come on, are you really gonna make me say it?” 
Anthony scoffs a laugh, “You’re a grown ass woman, y/n. You initiated this.” he says firmly, successfully placing the bag in the car. He gets back to you, the look that his eyes had back in the grocery long gone and was instead replaced by the frustration building up ever since he knew. 
“So finish it.”
“I- ” you avert his gaze and fiddle with your keys, making him roll his eyes at the sight. 
Once you’ve gathered enough strength to face him through and through, you speak of the first thing that comes to mind. “I know it’s stupid-” 
Imagine all the good words you’ve read and written your whole life, gone and insignificant beneath Anthony’s concentrated gaze on you. Just like that, you lost the ball in your hand and got swallowed up by his broken pride. 
“Oh, you know??” Anthony looked at you in disbelief as he scoffed a laugh, “Because you were acting like you didn’t.”
“Will you let me finish?” you fail to contain your voice at the man whose cheeks and ears are beginning to flare because of his own emotions. 
You sigh, putting away the rest of the stuff you were still holding so you weren’t occupied. You hop and sit on the back end of your SUV, unsure of where to go next with what you’re about to say. 
He sighs exasperatedly.
“You are stupid.” he stresses. 
“At least we got that part covered,” you take a glance at him in an attempt to kid around, catching his blue irises in deep worry. 
“What were you thinking, belle?” he asks, almost like a father about to give his child a good lecture on what to do and what not to do. 
“How long has this been going on?”
Helpless and a little scared, you finally confess. 
“I honestly don’t think that I was. Neither of us. We just kinda got sucked into it one night, and three months later, here we are.” you sum up, letting Anthony hear what he’s been wanting to since he caught you and Mat that morning. 
“Three months?” Anthony repeats, wanting to say the words himself. “You’re both fucking stupid.”
“I know,” you reply, the phrase leaving his mouth like a broken record, “that’s why I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t think it was important enough to tell because Mat and I don’t think of it as something worth telling.” 
“Y/N, this is a big deal. We’re not kids anymore!” his brows meet in the middle as he continues, “Look, I know you’re having fun,” Tito rolls his eyes, “obviously—, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a good idea. This shit is so fucking complicated, I can’t even wrap my head around how you fools do it.” 
“Naked, actually.” you kid in an attempt to lighten the mood, but instead you instantly earn a disgusted look from Tito. 
“I can and will use your mom against you, don’t play with me.” he furiously shakes his head, appalled at how unbelievable you were being. 
“Do you like him?” Of all the words said at the time, those that you thought you initially had an answer to, were the ones that robbed you of the certainty you once held and guarded for yourself. 
You wanted to at least say something. You wanted to lie. Sure, if lying would mean having Tito off your back easily. But that’s not the case. It never was. So, albeit opposed to who you thought you once were before Mathew, you stay silent and let Anthony pick up all the words that might suffice what you can’t utter.
To tell you the truth, Anthony has already played this conversation in his head numerous times every time he sees you and Mat interact around one another. 
He always knew he’d go ballistic. You know, all that overprotective and overbearing best friend narrative. 
However, now that it’s right under his nose, he just couldn’t find the will to tell you all the things you clearly already knew in a condescending manner. He didn’t want you to be right about not wanting to let him know. 
So, instead of all the things you’ve already imagined him saying, Anthony sighs, and falls beside you. 
And even if you try your hardest not to cry, it’s just simply impossible around a man as good as Anthony Beauvillier. 
“Do I need to worry? Especially now that you’re near your best Crying-Kim-Kardashian impression?” he kids in an effort to make you laugh. Which he did, of course. He never really failed at that part.
“Oh shut up. I’ll stop now.” you wipe the few stubborn streaks that have successfully streamed down your face. 
Eventually, you both break into foolish laughter, yours quite pitiful than his. 
It’s crazy how Anthony’s words can get to you. The complexity revolving around yours and Mathew’s affair has always been at the back of your mind, but it hasn’t bothered you this much, not until it was all pointed out for you -  not until you heard it out loud from neither you nor Mathew.
“Promise me something.” you say the moment you’ve gathered yourself. 
“What is it?” 
“Just don’t tell him you know, alright?” you ask him in all seriousness. 
You know that you’re bound to end this whole engagement somehow. You just weren’t ready yet, and you most certainly couldn’t bring yourself picturing how Mat would end things with you. After all, you’re still enjoying his company. 
“I won’t tell him.” he assures you, but just as you feel the sense of relief, Anthony strikes you with a much more complicated question, “Do you think he feels the same way?”
“I- I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.” 
It’s not like your situation with Mathew is something more than just the summarization of the entire hook-up culture. It’s ironic that you know you’d be able to give him an answer had he known and asked you about this months back.  
“I mean, it’s impossible to get involved with someone physically without getting involved in the nastier stuff. You know, the one where one of you is bound to fuck up bad and end up hurting the other.” he tells you honestly. 
“We’ve talked about it.” you tell him, “and I’m never going to let myself get hurt in the process, and so will he.”
He arches a brow, amused by how you were actually holding your ground. “Yeah? Things are always easier said than done, y/n. You’ll never know not until it’s right in front of you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, Beau. And you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m just looking after you,” he reminds you.
“I know, but you don’t have to.” you reply.
Nevertheless, despite your adamant nature regarding the matter, Anthony reaches to hold your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I think we’ve been in each other’s lives long enough to move past that kind of bullshit. It’s been us ever since, always, and that’s why I’m allowed to worry about you.” 
He looks at you with his deep blue eyes, worry evident in them as he continues, “I’m all for staying up late with you, binging on ice cream and what not when all goes to shit, but I’m not for seeing you get hurt. Especially when you’re the reason why you’re hurting in the first place.”
With that, he sees you fall silent for a while, possibly thinking about the right thing to say, just like you always do. 
Instead, you turn the tables and seek the answers from him, “Do you really think I’ll be the one on that end?”
“Honestly?” he takes a deep breath,  “I don’t know either.”
With a melancholic smile impending to break loose, you rest your head onto his shoulder, “If that ever happens, please don’t tell me ‘I told you so’.”
Tito chuckles softly, breaking away so he could properly look at you, “Even if it’s scribbled on a red velvet cake for your pity party, and a cheap ass wine to wash it down?” 
You grin, thankful that he’s actually here with you. You hop on your feet once you’ve recovered, giving him a side eye as you say, “I’ll think about it.” 
𖥸
Panting and obviously desperate and in need of air, you let your head collapse on the foot of Mathew’s bed, safely landing on one of his pillows. 
You stare at the ceiling before your eyes lay onto the man resting against the headboard with his forearm on the back of his head, also in a very spent up state just as much as you are. 
“That was…” you start, trailing in your own thoughts with a foolish smile. 
He takes a quick glance at you before he lets out a deep satisfied sigh as he says, “—something.”, finishing your sentence. 
“I mean, that thing you did near the end, that was genius. I gotta give it to you.” you tell him honestly, failing to stop yourself from remembering how good it felt to have him inside you moments ago. 
“Thanks. It’s just instincts probably. But yeah- that was hell of a finish.” he says, chuckling slightly, quite pleased as well despite trying to humble himself in the process.
Once you’ve recovered, you give him a nudge with your feet to get his attention. 
“Can I ask you something?” 
Mat nods, telling you to proceed. 
“You boys have been a little off these days.” you change the subject, anchoring it to how Mat and Beau have been on each other’s throats constantly for the past few days. 
“Are you two okay? Is there something wrong?” you worry.
Mat takes a deep breath, exuding the slightest sign of annoyance at the mention of his best friend's name. 
He wasn’t really sure if it was because of the bad games they were continuously having or if it had something to do with Tito always being up your ass, but he wasn’t totally innocent when it comes to giving Beau quite a hard time. 
“Nah.” he shrugs the thought off. “We’re cool, just stressed. That’s all.” 
Days after having that conversation with Anthony and with the team losing Anders with his injury, things in the house have become a bit tense. 
Tito would often get on Mathew’s nerves causing him to snap and be in a foul mood for the rest of the day and that would just mean him spending most of his time in his room. 
“Well okay,” you let him lie. “What d’you say we go out for dinner tonight? You know, the three of us.” 
You weren’t a fan of them constantly on each other’s throats so you figured that treating them to a nice dinner would be a great idea to lighten the mood. 
Before Mat can even decline, you immediately pick yourself up and hold his sheets to cover your chest, “It��ll be fun I promise.” 
Mat rolls his eyes and sighs, “Fine.”
“But speaking of fun,” he adds, making you furrow your brows. 
He pulls himself up from his position and moves towards the direction of his bedside table. 
Curiously, you watch him dive in the almost empty drawer and pull out a cotton candy colored package that was modestly tucked underneath his personal things. 
“Open it.” he says, tossing the package onto you. 
“I thought about trying it. You know, for fun. Thought you could tell me how it works so that I’ll know. But if you’re not into it, we don’t have to. I can still get a refund.” he tells you — almost rambling, trying to casually move back to his prior position. 
Sitting up, you manage to cover yourself as you begin opening said package. 
Once you’ve pulled the inner box out, a rather mocking laugh emanates from you; finding his gesture a wee bit foolish— and perhaps, scandalous for his type. 
“I didn’t know you were kinky.” you tease. 
Mat rolls his eyes, his alabaster cheeks turning red with the thought of you actually using it. 
“Well,” he looks at you and shoots his chance, “Are you?” 
You take the rubber-like material the size of your palm in your hand as if to weigh your answer on how it felt. 
“I don’t know,” you suggestively look at him, “Why don’t you come to dinner and find out?” 
Once you’ve told him that you were in fact wearing it for the night, there was a sheer excitement in Mat’s doe eyes, completely skipping the part where he’s being framed to be in the same room as Anthony– let alone sit with him for an entire meal. 
He moves closer to you and takes the box from your lap along with his phone already in hand as he begins to talk more, perhaps in the nerdiest way possible, about how a remote-controlled vibrator works. 
His mansplaining would suffice. For now.
𖥸
Waiting in front of the reception, you squirm just a tad as you feel the material of Mathew’s new toy fill in between the lips of your region. 
You play it safe and stand just across the glass doors so the boys would immediately see you when they walk in. Mat texted you while you and Anthony were on the road heading to the restaurant, saying that he was running a little late. 
It wasn’t that long before he walked through the doors wearing the same old cheeky smile his lady friends loved most. 
“Hey, I’m sorry I got stuck with Noah. He needed a hand picking up some furniture. Have you been waiting too long?” he rushes, striding towards your way with his hair in a gorgeous mess as always.
“I just got here actually.” you smile politely. 
Mat notices a couple coming towards you so he reaches for your waist in order to pull you close, stirring you away from careless strangers. 
“Where’s Beau?” he asks, brows all furrowed whilst he eyes the man who showed no remorse dragging his own date to even bother expressing his apologies your way.
You, on the other hand, can’t help but feel so safe with his hand gently wrapped around the curve of your waist as it moves ever so slightly to pull you much more closer to him. 
You notice the electric feeling creeping in your skin, quite new and alarming. You didn’t want to think much of it so you project your thoughts onto answering his query. 
“He’s just parking the car— oh wait, there he is!” you turn your back and wave Tito over as he enters. 
“I thought they had a valet,” he says. 
Mathew clicks his tongue, not realizing that you were in between the two of them before he could even stop himself from making such an unsolicited remark, “It’s a sushi bar. You don’t have to be such a diva.” 
Sensing that Beau wouldn’t let that one go, you gently push Mathew towards where your reserved seats were. “Come on. We gotta stop talking on an empty stomach.” you subtly pinch his side, making him squirm involuntarily. 
When Mathew finally turned his back and started heading for the booth you instructed him to go to, you cling onto Tito and rest your head on his shoulder endearingly. 
“Be good, okay?” you subtly whisper.
Anthony rolls his eyes, breaking a mischievous smirk, “This is gonna be fun.”
True to his word, the night has been shaping to be quite a fun one once all three of you have sat your asses in the booth. The way the food was coming in on a conveyor belt made quite an impression on both white boys you were with. To say the least, your table was beginning to pile up on empty little plates that the sushi came on.
“How come we haven’t eaten here before?” Tito asks, chowing down on a whole sashimi. 
“You boys don’t have time. That’s why.” you say, looking across Mat who was basically doing the same thing. Dogs. 
Mathew opted to let you sit beside Beau thinking that it would help mask the fact that you were actually hiding something. He knew that he still wasn’t in the place to ask for a gesture as small as such. 
Besides, it was nice seeing you light up every time a new batch of makis rolled through.
As the three of you fill yourselves with endless food being served your way, you and Tito have begun sinking in your usual bubble. The bubble that’s basically held your friendship all through these years, and a bubble quite alienating for an outsider like the man sitting silently across from the two of you.
When you’ve finally recovered from the inside joke you and Tito were just laughing about, a thought comes into your mind, “Oh, by the way, Cece’s getting married.” you tell Anthony, unknowingly making Mathew out of place even more than he already was. 
“Really?” Tito takes a second and takes a sip of his drink. “With who?”
You show off a cheeky smile as you wait for him to understand the look your eyes had. “Guess.”
Tito’s lips parts and gasps, “It’s Dave, isn’t it?” 
When you nod in agreement, he then shakes his head - floored by the thought that your cousin has finally landed her cliche highschool sweetheart. “Damn.”
You reach for another plate that was rolling your way on the conveyor belt, “So anyway, she’s asking if you can come.”
Tito, despite hearing quite good news, fails to mask a rather displeased expression on his face. He shakes his head shortly as he thinks of a way to decline the initial invite, “Oh. I don’t know about that.” 
He successfully catches your attention, diverting it away from the sashimi you were just about to devour. 
“You’re not coming? Come on, it’s Cece.” you say, letting the chopsticks hang mid-air in between your fingers.
Anthony sighs, honestly second guessing the next words he’s about to utter next. He knows it’s bound to define his next month’s schedule, and he’s not about to change it just to attend another wedding stuck with your overwhelming Aunt. 
Once you catch his irises, you instantly know what was just going on in his mind. Thus, making you burst into laughter, one that wasn’t really as modest as you thought it would be. 
“Oh, I know what this is about.” you smirk, obviously teasing him. 
You glance at Mathew who was just silently watching the conversation you and Tito exclusively exchange, “Aunt Syl misses you, Beau. I’m sure you can let a night slide.”
Anthony swats off your hand, finding the narrative quite foolish. 
He spent most of his childhood years getting his cheeks squeezed for kisses, and while the old lady is undoubtedly genuine and sweet, he wasn’t about to spend an entire night getting those smooches again. 
“Why does she have to kiss me on the lips every fucking time?? Why on the lips, huh?” he blurts out, laughing at the image of the time he picked you up for prom night. That wasn’t really one of the things he loved about your family. 
Sure, adorable - cute, but icky. 
You share his laughter, admittedly guilty of seeing the same white boy interact with your relatives. Well, overly-comfortable relatives to be exact.
As the two of you reminisce more about the families you’ve both left back home, you absentmindedly reach to brush off the lone curl that went astray on Tito’s forehead, fixing it all back with your fingers. A normal thing for you to do but an entire different view that has seemingly alienated Mathew even more. 
Mat sits across the two of you like a lone puppy waiting for an ounce of care to be thrown down his way. 
He quietly listens to the both of you, picking on his food inattentively, visibly irked at how close your body was to Tito, at least for his liking. But more importantly, he was bothered at how you never looked as comfortable as you were with him than anyone else he’s seen you with. 
And by anyone, he meant mostly himself. 
𖥸
To say the least, Mathew’s never pegged himself for a jealous man. In fact, he even vowed not to be one should the girl he’s bound to settle down with come along; but good heavens, boy was he wrong. 
Spending what seems to be the longest hours of his life, even longer and much more tedious than having to win games in overtime, has got to be the most excruciating, and by far his least favorite experience with you and Anthony ever since his best friend took him in. 
He was as green as the bills he slid into the check before the three of you left the sushi bar. 
And just like what he’s been doing for the entire night, what’s another mind numbing car ride to top it all off, right? 
You and Anthony were in the middle of reminiscing yet another childhood story of yours when a surge of overwhelming pulsations shot up from underneath your seat, causing you to abruptly step on the brakes of your car, startling the man sitting beside you. 
“What was that?” Tito questions the moment his seat belt snaps him back to his seat, “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering him, you raise your head, aiming to see exactly what met your eyes the moment you looked through the rearview mirror. 
A fucking dickhead. 
Mathew, fucking Mathew that had the audacity to be born just to torment you, fashioned quite a goading grin in the crook of his mouth as he stared right into your y/e/c irises. Not an ounce of guilt was present as he tilted his head, mimicking exactly what Anthony had just asked, “Yeah, y/n. Are you okay?”
His taunting voice makes you grip onto the steering wheel harder as it is accompanied by yet another flash of unsolicited vibrations all made by his dancing fingers, precisely imitating a scrolling motion on his phone.
You flutter your eyes, not wanting to let Tito catch on how much of an asshole Mat was being to you at the moment. “No, uh - I’m okay. Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten in me.”
Mat’s fucking chew toy that’s what.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Anthony frets, checking to see if there was something troubling you. 
“Really, I’m fine.” you say once more, biting the insides of your cheeks when what Mat sent you next were patterns of long and tantalizing strokes that rushed through your hole just before settling on your clit whilst Mat idly tapped onto his phone in the same exact way the toy was working inside you. 
Thankfully, Tito lets it go just as he adjusts himself in his seat, reminding you to be careful. After all, the ride won’t be that long before the three of you reach your complex.
Perhaps, Mat has thought far ahead of what tonight was going to be for him because nothing came close to how he enjoyed watching your eyes flicker on him every once in a while in the rearview mirror while he sat in the back seat, taking you over the edge.
He knew full well that you were soaked by the time you’ve reached the parking floor given how eager you were to get yourself home. Frankly, you’re amazed that you were able to get a hold of yourself even as Mathew continued to pester your region throughout your elevator ride.
Anthony was walking beside you whilst Mat stayed behind, shaking his head as he found your free hand balled into fist while the other clutched helplessly onto the belt of your purse. As the three of you head towards the lone door situated at the end of the hallway, Tito stops momentarily, patting on his jeans as if something was missing. 
“Shoot,” he mutters. 
“Why? What is it?” you ask, fishing out the keys to your apartment. 
Beau scratches his temple in frustration, “I must’ve left my phone in your car. I have to call Emma.” 
Without much hesitation, you were glad to project your sole attention away from the toy currently squeezed in between your flesh as you fish for your key fob inside your purse. You give Mat a faint look just as you hand it onto Beau. 
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” he announces, his heels already turning towards the other end of the hallway. 
The boys bid their goodbyes with a quick glance, not having the slightest clue to what’s going on in your mind. 
Once Tito took a turn and disappeared from you and Mathew’s line of sight, your fist was the first thing that made contact on Mathew’s shoulders. 
He wails defensively, breaking into laughter. “What??”
“You’re a fucking torture.” you stress, turning your back against him to walk straight towards the apartment door. 
Despite holding onto your keys as tight as you could, you still fumble and find it hard to stick it in the knob. 
To make matters worse, a familiar set of hands grip onto your waist almost as if it’s memorized every line and every curve of your body. You find yourself leaning to his touch, his ever so captivating touch luring you in like a lost pup always wanting and needing for more.
With him pressing his body against yours just enough, he finds access to your nape and whispers, “Need a hand there?”
As if it was on cue, you successfully stick the key, turning the knob quite hastily. 
Nothing but a dark and quiet flat greets the two of you as you push your bodies into the house, hands practically all over one another just by the mere absence of space in between you and Mathew. 
Nearly toppling over the emerald accent bowl your mom got you as a Christmas present, Mat cages your body against the nearby wall, drowning you in a deep searing kiss even more. 
Your arm snaked around his neck as your free hand held onto the material of his shirt - placing your hand against his rock hard chest. 
Without much regard to breathing, Mat speaks in between your open-mouthed kisses, “How much time do we have?” he asks, pertaining to the roommate that was probably already on his way back to the apartment. 
You cling onto him more as he hoists your leg up his hips so he could press himself against you. Your teeth clash with each other just as it becomes an opening for your tongues, inevitably choosing to drown in your breathless state than to spare a second in the absence of each other’s lips. 
Still, you find the strength to answer his query, “Out here? About two minutes.” 
Mat’s lips lingers just before yours for a moment, thinking whether he’d be up to risk it all. 
“What about in your room?” he asks again, his brows knitting into quite an expression. 
Without much thought, and frankly, not wanting to waste anymore of your precious time, you playfully bite onto his lower lip just to seal it with yet another kiss, “a lot.”
By the time you’ve successfully snuck Barzal into your room, he’s already taken care of riding up most of the hem of your dress in order to expose your thighs. 
It’s hard to keep track on how and who got who to where, and to which position, when it comes to sharing a bed with Mathew. But it is even harder to compose yourself now that he’s gotten the hang of maneuvering his way into your pants - almost as if it was one of his important business trips. 
You slightly come back to your senses once you’ve felt the comfortable surface of your bed, signaling Mat of what you needed him to do next. 
He hovers to meet your lips once more, taking it at a pace that is neither fast nor slow. It isn’t exactly how you’ve pictured it, but it was odd that what he’s doing was far better than what you’ve  initially imagined.
You willingly exchange his kisses, responding to all of his touch effortlessly, keeping your bodies in sync with each other’s distinct languages. Once you feel his hands come near your far too moistened and sensitive slit, you jerk your hips towards him. 
“Barz, please.” you plead. 
He chortles as it was exactly what he’d hoped for.
His head was still far from being wedged in between your legs as he was still rather occupied by teasing you with the small and wet kisses he’s been working deeper into your thighs. Your scent, all whilst grand and enticing, wasn’t entirely what Mathew had planned. 
You meet his eyes, entirely focused on you as he moves to where the toy was safely hidden. But to your surprise, he blows right past it and places a playful bite on the skin that parts your pussy and your abdomen. 
Mat places a soft small kiss on your skin just before he takes something in the back of his jeans. 
“Shall we test this baby out?” a question spitted out with the balance of both curiosity and excitement on your respective sides of the room. 
Surprisingly, you find yourself nodding in agreement - your body willfully offering itself in search of the feeling it didn’t know it wanted, not until it finally got a taste. 
𖥸
The boys have been home after concluding their regular series with Pittsburgh for two days but not once have you seen either of them. Apart from their morning skates and afternoon practices alongside workouts squeezed in between, your demanding job was basically what kept you from seeing them.
The mere communication you’ve had with them was through the sticky notes you leave on the fridge right before you head for work, assuming that their dumb asses even have time to read any of it. There’s the occasional text messages too but you didn’t really find the time to respond to those as well so it’s safe to assume that your overflowing workload was piling onto your plate at quite a progressive rate.
As you drown yourself in endless words, going over page after page of every manuscript you’ve successfully read, a knock was just enough for your eyes to finally leave the white pages. 
“It’s open.” you say, voice tired and obviously in need of sleep. 
A tight smile instantly breaks your lips when you see Mathew poking through the door, “Busy?” he asks, the familiar hint in his voice and the bobbing of his brows making you clench your jaw unconsciously. 
“I can’t tonight, Mat. Just go.” you tell him exasperatedly, turning your focus back onto the manuscript sitting on your lap, waiting to be put under your sole attention. 
You weren’t sure if it was how you were beginning to care for him more that you wanted to stay guarded that’s why you kept pushing him away, or that you were just really tired that you cannot handle another round of Mathew’s child’s play. 
Either way, you had so much going on to even care.
“I know,” Mat ignores how you tried pushing him away and instead invites himself in. 
You looked up at him helplessly, still buried in a shit-ton of work due for the coming week. You were just about to push him out of your room when the scent of freshly brewed coffee heightened your senses. 
“That’s why I made you coffee.” Mat casually says just as he lightly pushes the door close with the ball of his foot, both of his hands occupied by yours and Tito’s unusually large coffee mugs. 
Mat bends down to where you were slumped on the floor, just a few feet away for him to be able to reach you if he pleases. There were a bunch of throw pillows spread all over the place, most of which had respective manuscripts laying on top, out and open for you to see. 
“How can I help?” he curiously asks.
Sure, you appreciate the kind gesture, but knowing the star player for years is more than enough to know that Mathew Barzal and heavy reading just don’t go well together. Assuming that a hotshot like him could even read at all.
You shoot him an ‘Oh Really?’ look under your reading glasses which was then reciprocated by a faint scoff. 
“Hey. Just because we’re bone bros doesn’t mean we don’t get to hang out like how normal friends do.” Mat snides but you were rather quick to shoot him a warning glare. 
“If you call us that one more time I’m gonna shove this pen up where the sun doesn't shine. Don’t dare me.” you threaten.
“I was trying to be nice.” he says, smirking just as he rolls his eyes, getting back on the mugs he was holding, finally handing you yours, “I know you’re tired.” he adds.
“Thanks.” you gladly reach out with a tight-lipped smile. 
Mat scans the little party you were having for yourself, unsure if he even wanted to be invited. 
Nonetheless, since he already sat in and knocked over a few pieces with his huge hockey-player built, he decides to offer you an extra hand. 
“What do you need me to do?” he asks as he looks at you with his deep set eyes still evidently clueless to whatever it was that you currently have your head buried in. 
“I need you to stay quiet.” you spare him a glance, your eyeglasses falling a little on the bridge of your nose as you look up at him.
“I can do quiet.” he smiles, like a child; genuine, pure, and innocent. 
The kind that has melted every head turning his way. The kind that’s won a shit-ton of girls a million times; and a smile, that despite you wanting to let it slide, is beginning to creep its way up into your heart. Slow and indiscernible just like how your innate state makes Mathew’s heart flutter.
As Mat picks up one of the materials lying on the carpeted floor, a sudden thought comes rushing to you. 
You remove your glasses, earning Mathew’s attention instantly. 
“Weren’t you supposed to be out with the guys tonight?” you ask, remembering how Tito had been endlessly bugging him about going to Marty’s game night. 
Since most of the guys in the team are married, it’s not everyday where the single ones like Mathew and Anthony would get the chance to just hang with the whole team. 
That being said, catching up with these men was important for the young lads, particularly the most sentimental man you’ve ever known your whole life. And you know full well that once Anthony realizes the boy you’re with had ditched him again, Mat is bound to never hear the end of it.
He casually flips over a few pages, scanning the literary work. 
“I was. But I didn’t really feel like drinking.” he tells you, shadowing the fact that he wasn’t going to be shitfaced even if he did go along with the commitment he had as Tito’s ride for the night. 
He ignored everything that was true just as he ignored the sudden realization that he’d rather sit with you and read an overwhelming amount of your insipid workload than to spend the night catching on the the same guys he sees almost every day of the week just to talk about their golf escapades over lame games and cold stale beers instead of doing it in the locker room. 
Mat didn’t think much of it though. Not that it was something he’s felt in a while. He would just rather stay home with a friend and maybe even sip on large coffee mugs, sitting together in a comfortable silence they’re both unconsciously learning to love. 
After a while, just like all the other nights the two of you have spent together, it was time for him to leave in order to make sure Anthony won’t catch any of it. 
He’s read the full chapter a couple times, just so you wouldn’t make him leave. And so, when you finally asked if he’s through, there wasn’t much of a choice but to lie. 
“How are you stuck reading a book I can totally finish in 30 minutes?” you roll your eyes, taking the next material you were supposed to read. 
Mathew sighs dramatically, wanting to sell his lie even better and pouts. “I’m tired, y/n.”
Without even sparing him your look of disapproval, you tell him, “Then go. I told you I need to finish all of this.”
Knowing Mat, you should not have bothered saying those words for he was already one step ahead of you. He takes the thick rim of paper you’ve just started to flip through, making him instantly regret it when you’ve finally looked up at him. 
“Why don’t we take a break? I honestly don’t know how you do all these.” he whines, letting his head fall on your shoulder. You’re quick to shrug his head off, afraid to admit that you actually missed being around him. Not even in bed, per se. Just his scent, his presence, himself. 
“Ugh. Fine. You’re such a child, Barzal.” you finally surrender, letting him take the inked pages completely so he could set it aside along with the rest of your disorganized file of ‘to-read’ ones.
Thankfully, there wasn’t much of an argument when it came to which side of the bed Mathew was going to take. It’s crazy that he’s just that aware around you. Not once did he ever imagined himself glossing over the faintest detail of someone he just happened to fool around with. 
Maybe that’s really how it is for friends, no?
Once the two of you are settled, you both stare at the ceiling, finding yourselves with nothing to speak about. 
“How was your day?” Mathew blurts out of the blue, obviously startling you. 
Now that right there is fucking suicide. 
“Uh-” you struggle to answer, but sensing that Mat was eventually going to take it back with some old lame joke of his, you decide to respond. After all, friends do this too, right?
“It wasn’t that bad but I’m just so tired. I want to sleep all day and never wake up for like a week.” you snicker, burying your face in your far too comfortable pillow. 
You stir your body to Mat’s direction, something he mirrors without sparing much thought
“What about you? How’s yours?” you politely ask. Wanting to know how his day went about despite your eyelids getting all the more heavy with each second that passes by.
“It’s normal. We haven’t seen each other since we got back, that’s the only downside.”
At this point, Mat doesn’t exactly know why he was being honest - or what was even the point of all of this to begin with. 
He knew that he could’ve just stayed at his room if he really didn’t want to go to Matt’s game night. But instead of going all through that trouble, laying in bed with you seemed more appealing than what he’s ready to admit. 
In response to what he’s told you, you perk up so you could place a hand on the side of your face as a support. Evidently enjoying having him beside you. 
“I know. I’m bummed too.” you confess.
“You are?”
Yes.
You look Mat in his eyes, finding it impossible to come up with a lame excuse. “Well, yeah. You boys are fun to be with.”
Oh.
Mathew says nothing but smiles. 
“You should get some sleep,” he tells you just as he takes one of your manuscripts off the floor.
“What about you? Aren’t you the one who asked for a break?” 
Mathew shrugs your attempt at interrogation and simply waives the material in his hand.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll try to read this for a while.” he smiles, “Wanna bet on how far along I could get before I doze off?” 
With that, you chuckle, finding utter admiration of the man who’s been nothing but good to you all this time. 
“Get some sleep too, okay?” you reach to squeeze his hand, silently thanking him for being with you. 
Even with the seconds that parted your words from Mathew’s, his voice sounded distant as sleep easily consumed every bit of your consciousness.
“I will.” 
𖥸
It was the first time Mat watched you sleep. 
There was this indescribable feeling; so sure yet so uncertain at the same time. 
Despite that, what he was certain about was how that faint yet distinct rush brought him a sense of tranquility he knows he only feels whenever he gets to stand at the center of the ice. Like how the frozen lake felt for him when he and Liana used to skate around when they were kids. 
A comforting warmth in spite of the freezing cold; like a little fire kindling somewhere he only knows. 
He reaches for your face, removing your reading glasses as carefully as he could, “Just five more minutes, Mat.” he mutters to himself, unsure of what and why he was doing all these things.
He lets his head fall back on the soft pillow, devoid of how it was starting to lull him to sleep. 
You never left Mathew’s gaze, and for once, — amidst all doubts clouding his head at once, he was grateful. 
To see you lay beside him. To watch you peacefully in your sleep. To finally have you close enough within his reach.
Five more minutes. 
He thinks to himself just as he closes his eyes. Letting himself drown in you.
Five more minutes.
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matbaerzal · 3 years
Note
ok last one before i go to bed: mathew’s got a big ego and while he’s usually secure in your relationship, he has his jealous moments so say you grew up liking another hockey team and you still pay attention to them even with mat being on the isles so you’re watching their game this one day instead of giving mat attention and that ticks him off so he rails you on the couch while your team’s playing on the tv bonus points if you have a crush on one of the players on said team and barzy fucks you even better when they score
It's gotta be New York Rangers and Kris Kreider, I don't make the rules 🤷‍♀️[requests are closed!] NSFW under the cut (1,2K words)
He'd expected you to be on the couch, watching something when he came over to your place, but when he walked in to see you wearing a Rangers jersey with a rangers game on he had to roll his eyes, playfully, of course.
"Didn't know you had a jersey" he says without even saying hi first. Giving you a short kiss as a greeting instead.
"I've had this forever" as you turn around to walk back to the couch he sees the name splayed on your back in capital letters - KREIDER
You plop down on the couch, your focus now entirely on the game, which was 10 minutes into the second period and still scoreless. It didn't take long for Mat to get fidgety without your attention on him. A thought pops into his head as he plays with the sleeve of your jersey during a commercial break - "Why'd you choose Kreider?"
You let out an embarrassed laugh, "uuh, I used to have a crush on him - I mean he's also a really good player, but that's the real reason"
Mat tries to push away the jealousy that bubbles up in his chest, it was ridiculous of him to be jealous of someone you'd never even met.  but it sits in the back of his mind as the game starts back up.
He doesn't even mean anything by it, but his hand lands on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles as he scrolls on his phone.
"Could you wait like 5 minutes?" you mumble.
He looks up at you with an innocent questioning look, only noticing what you mean when you look down on his thigh. He can't help but smirk - without looking he knows that 5 minutes is the time remaining in the period.
"Wanna go for a quickie during intermission, eh?" he wiggles his brows to tease you.
"You're the one that started rubbing my thigh!"
He leans in to kiss your neck. "Yeah, I'll wait 5 minutes, but if you think I'm keeping it short, you're wrong" he speaks in between kisses.
Those five minutes were the longest of your life, and when the buzzer rang you don't hold back as you meet his lips. His hands find the hem of your jersey instantly, pushing it off you and tossing it across the room.
"I'm gonna make you think about me making you cum whenever you see a Rangers game"
You squirm at his words as he pushes you to lay down before he peels the leggings down your legs along with your underwear. He leaves a trail of kisses up your legs before settling down between your legs.
"So wet for me and I've barely even touched you" he admires your soaked pussy, his finger running through your folds with curiosity before his tongue finds your clit like a magnet drawn towards you. He hums around the nub at the taste, closing his eyes as you whimper beneath him. His fingers tease your entrance before he slides one in making you moan out loud.
He keeps an eye on the clock by your TV, making sure to keep you right on edge during the intermission, pulling away whenever you come close, so much so that your writhing on the couch, your mind is completely taken off of the game.
“Mat, fuck- please”
The game’s starting back up and he doesn’t let up this time, your first orgasm of the night rolling over you as the puck drops again. As the noise of the room fade back in, you notice the game has started again, hearing the commentators as Mat’s fingers slide out of you to softly replace his tongue, making you try to close your legs. His lips are glistening and swollen as he leans over you, demanding your attention. With a smirk, he sucks his fingers into his mouth making your legs widen again - your body ready for more.
You push his shirt up and he takes the hint, quickly pulling it off before pushing down his sweatpants and underwear. Having been sleeping together for a while now, you’d both agreed to occasionally drop the condoms and as he takes hold of the base of his cock, the tip landing on your stomach he looks you in the eyes - “is this ok?”
You nod, “fuck me, please baby”
He runs the tip through your folds, slapping it against your clit, smirking as you grow more and more desperate for him - “please” you say again.
He finally pushes in, your slick walls hugging him perfectly making him groan, forgetting his whereabouts for a moment as he bottoms out. His thrusts start slow, and he reaches over to find the remote to turn up the volume - “don’t want you missing the game, do we?”
You moan, glancing over at the TV, but you can’t look long as Mat picks up the pace, grinding into you now, his lips sucking and nibbling on your neck. You grab his hair, as your head falls back against the pillow. The noises of the game are the last thing on your mind as Mat hikes your leg up on his waist.
The sounds of the crowd grow louder as Kreider skates towards the goal, and they scream as the puck goes into the net. For a moment you switch focus, your natural reaction would be to jump off the couch, but as Mat’s thumb makes contact with your clit your mind goes blank. The jealousy from before pops back up as the crowd cheers for the man you used to have a crush on. He wraps your legs around him, gripping your waist with both hands and you feel yourself being pushed down into the cushions slightly as Mat adjusts his legs before he pounds into you hard.
The only sounds you can hear now are his skin slapping against yours, the wet noise of your slick pussy as he pushes into you again and again, and his groans and your moans mixed together. You loved it when he fucked you like this, making your brain a tangled mess, your whole body buzzing with pleasure. You feel the knot tightening in your stomach, moaning his name like a plead, begging him to keep going.
“c’mon baby, cum with me”
Your toes curl as he sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub against your clit, and as your nails dig into the skin on his back your body shakes as pleasure takes over completely, hearing his groans as his hips stutter, the warmth of his cum filling you up. Your lips move lazily against his as you come down, his hand caressing your cheek. When you’ve completely grounded again, Kreider’s on the TV again, this time for a post-game interview, they’d won the game.
In your post-orgasm haze, you can’t stop the words from falling from your mouth - “by your logic, if we fuck every time they play now, they’ll win”
He laughs “I mean, I don’t want the Rangers to win, but I don’t know if I can pass up that offer” he pauses, before adding “it also means that we’ll win every game against them” with a cocky smile
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hugheshugs · 2 years
Note
hi! could you write reader x barzy where the reader gets accepted to uni with #22 + #55 please :-) thAnk you!!
hihi !! here it is, i hope u like it and thank u for the request <3
"god, i love you."
"good job, i'm so proud of you."
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you had just gotten the letter in the mail. the longer you waited to open it, the more anxious you grew, but you were going to wait until mat was done practice so you could open it together.
it was from your dream school so you wanted him to be there for you no matter what the decision. you were sitting on the sofa biting your lip when he walked in. you were so lost in thought that you hadn't even noticed he was there until he sat beside you.
"it's here?"
you jumped at the sound of his voice. "i— yeah, it is. i'm nervous."
"don't be. you got accepted into your backup, you'll be alright no matter what the letter says," he reassured.
a sigh left your lips as you rested your head on his shoulder. "i don't want to open it."
"fine, i'll do it," he shrugged, grabbing the envelope out of your hand.
"wha— no, i want to open it!"
he smiled (obviously, because he did that on purpose), before handing it back to you.
"god, i love you," he muttered, grabbing your head with both of his hands and giving it a kiss.
you both faced each other and you gave him a smile, the nervousness washing away now that he was here to make you feel better.
"am i going to have to wait for christmas until you open that or.."
you shook your head, slapping his arm playfully. he just laughed before you decided to open it up. after taking the letter out of the envelope, you took a deep breath and dramatically closed your eyes.
"you do it! i can't do it myself," you exclaimed, pushing it into his chest.
"are you sure? 'cause i'll do it, you know i will," he asked for confirmation, to which you nodded.
"yes, i'm ten thousand percent sure. please open it before i lose my mind."
"first, i'm going to need you to open your eyes."
"no."
"no?"
"no."
he blinked, letting out a tired sigh of his own. "fine. let's see what this bad boy says.."
your heart pounded rapidly against your chest and it felt like he was taking hours. you began to worry, the realness of you not getting accepted starting to kick in — but then he spoke up.
"good job. i'm so proud of you."
"i got in?" your eyes shot open.
"you got in!" he nodded, extending his arms out.
"i got in!"
you jumped into his hold and he fell back onto the couch, squeezing you tight.
"i knew you'd make it," he mumbled. "i love you."
"i couldn't have done it without you," you told him which made him smile. "and i love you."
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youngbeezer · 3 years
Note
6.he teaches me something with Mat brazal maybe teaches you a few guitar chords since he can play acoustic guitar after Jordan Eberle teaching him a bit plus him teaching himself also
Referenced Post
Prompt -- 6. He teaches me something (w Mat Barzal)
A/N: Here's another blurb from the 14 oddly romantic things blurb set. Sorry this is kinda late I've been slacking a little. This weekend is gonna be busy for me as well so I'm not sure how many blurbs I will be able to finish...
Thanks for requesting this, hope you like it :)
Word Count: 920
Warning(s): A curse word or two, mention of alcohol,,, ok I know like literally nothing about playing the guitar so if I got anything wrong or it's confusing I am so sorry!!
Join my taglist :)
“Who the hell are all these people? ” I lean over to whisper into my boyfriend’s ear.
We are currently at one of our best friends, Anthony Beauvillier’s house to celebrate his birthday. There are at least 100 people here all crowded around, drinking and dancing to someone’s playlist. I think I have maybe recognized a total of 10 faces tonight.
My boyfriend Mat gives me a little shrug and then pulls me even closer into his body as two drunk partiers plow their way through us and into the kitchen. I grimace as one of the guys’ drinks sloshes over the brim of his cup and onto my boots. I feel like I’m at a frat party right now, and I am not enjoying it.
“I didn’t know Tito had this many friends.” I remarked.
Mat lets out a little chuckle before bringing his mouth closer to my ear to be heard over the thumping music.
“He doesn’t. He just wanted to look cool.”
I once again scrunch my face up in annoyance when someone goes a little too hard dancing and knocks into my shoulder.
Mat scowls at the oblivious partygoer and grabs onto my hand, dragging me into one of the hallways. Trailing behind him, I watch as Mat begins searching through the few rooms in the hall. After walking in on another couple ‘hanging out’, Mat finally finds an empty room.
I go to sit on the bed while Mat locks the door. I raise my eyebrows at him when he turns around to face me.
“What are you planning to do Mathew?” I teased.
He smirks before replying back, “I just figured you wanted to get away from the noise and crowd. Why? Do you have other plans in mind?” He wiggles his eyebrows as he slowly prances over to where I am sitting on the edge of the bed. I roll my eyes at his antics and begin to search the unknown room.
“Whose room are we in anyway?” I questioned.
“Beau’s.”
“Really? Why does he have a guitar? Does he even know how to play that?”
Mat scoffs. “No. Once again, he just wants to look cool.”
Mat makes his way over to where the acoustic guitar was chilling in the corner of Anthony’s room collecting dust. He picks it up and goes to sit down on the desk chair. It looks like he was just messing around a little, but next thing I know my boyfriend is strumming out beautiful notes on the guitar.
My eyes widen and my jaw goes a little slack.
“What the hell. I did not know you knew how to play the guitar?!” I burst in both astonishment and confusion.
He chuckles a little bit before revealing, “I know a thing or two. Ebs taught me a few basic skills at one point and I decided to try and stick it out and learn a few more.”
I take a moment to admire the sight before me. Mathew Barzal holding a guitar all concentrated and sexy. I watch the way his hands glide along each and every string, zoning in on the veins protruding out with each movement. I watch the way his eyebrows furrow and his tongue just barely sticks out of his mouth in deep concentration trying to remember what Jordan Eberle taught him.
“You’re so hot.” I breathe out.
He lets out a deep belly laugh at my statement. He looks over at me and gestures to his lap.
“C’mere. Let me teach you something.”
I stroll over to where he is sitting and let him pull me into his lap. He sets the guitar on my thigh and guides my hand to the appropriate position.
I feel his breath hit the exposed skin on my neck as he explains each string, “Ok, so the first string is E. Then it’s A, D, G, B, and then E again.” I test out each string as he says the letter. He gives me a little kiss on my neck and then rests his chin on my shoulder. “Now put your thumb right here… Yeah like that. Ok. Then go ahead and strum. That’s B4.”
I look over my shoulder back at him and give him an excited smile. He grins back at me and I notice his gaze lower to my lips. He closes the gap between us and connects our lips together. His lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside. Just as our tongues start to tangle together fighting for dominance, we are interrupted when the door slams open.
Tito comes strolling into the room in search of something. He flinches in surprise when he notices our presence and lets out a startled, “Oh shit.”
He pauses and assesses the situation before blurting, “Wait! Were you guys about to just have sex in my room?!” Tito yelped.
“Well not anymore,” Mat teased.
I let out a little tut and smacked Mat in the chest as he let out a little giggle. He gives me a quick little peck and mumbles softly against my lips “I’m kidding.”
Tito’s face scrunches up in fake disgust and mutters out, “Keep it in your pants Barzy. We don’t need any little ones running around just yet.” He gives me a cheesy little wink and leaves the room.
I roll my eyes and laugh at our friend's behavior.
Mat pats me on my thigh and gives me another little grin.
“Alright. Now let's try the chord G6.”
Tagging some people so this doesn't flop,,,
@tessisawriter @joelsfarabeee @bitchforbarzy @musiclove-12 @barzy-xoxo @matbarzys @matbarzls @gigissports @sorokns @turcsandzegras @barzysreputation @cherrylita @matsbarzals @heybarzy @hoeforaho
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So I got a request for gn!reader x player (I chose barzy) but it didn’t save so here it is! Also this on deals with a little insecurity so be aware :)
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Hi love,
We made it to our first Valentine’s Day. I can’t wait to spoil you tonight. Even though, I know you’ll put up a fight against it all night.
Don’t worry, your stubbornness is quite attractive to me. I think it’s sweet how you decide what you believe and you stick to it. That’s how I know that you and I are meant for each other.
It reminds me of the first time we met. You were standing at the other side of that greasy bar that your friends had dragged you to. I could tell that you didn’t want to be there at all. Mainly, because you were trying to shrink yourself into a corner. It was adorable.
I was almost too determined waiting for you to come up to me first that I almost missed out on the most important person I've ever met. I swear that I will have to thank Tito every day for the rest of my life. If he hadn’t pushed me towards you I wouldn't have had the courage to go talk to you on my own. I mean it when I say that you are the BEST thing that happened to me.
Even, If I have to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives together to reassure you. I love being able to help you see just how amazing you are. it's a privilege to know that I am the one keeping you safe and making you feel worthy of all the live you deserve. It makes me feel all warm inside. This is weird for me to talk about warm fuzzy feelings. Although, it is safe to say that I do certainly have them for you. I didn't know that meeting a person like you could completely change how I felt about love.
You turned New York into a place that I was happy to be in. Happy to call home. Thankfully, You came into my life at a time when everything felt lost and broken. I didn't know how I was going to get through living in New York. I left my friends and family behind. All I had was Tito and the team. Until I met you.
You showed me kindness and thoughtfulness without any judgment. You kept me from living off of take-out and you showed me the best places to spend my days off. If I didn't have you now I'm sure that I would spend my days laying in bed and being a zombie at games/practice.
I know that we were both hesitant to try this relationship. Yet, look where it's brought us. I love my life with you, Baby. You aren't like the other WAGs. Not a regular hockey partner. Not to say that the others aren't wonderful but you're special. I like how intellectual and open-minded you are. You are driven and it makes me strive to be as goal-getting as you. I worry about how sometimes you compare yourself to the other people in my life because, to be honest–none of them compare to you.
You are so completely out of this world that it is hard to compare you to everyone else and I love it. I hope you keep this letter as a reminder of just how amazing you are to me. You are radiant and thoughtful. You work so hard.
I'm constantly proud of how amazing you are. There are not enough words to describe how I feel about you. Or maybe I just don't know enough words? Dumb hockey player stereotype at it's best.
Anyways, I cannot wait to take you out to dinner, and maybe we can go drink champagne in the hot tub. Remember, I love you so much. Happy Valentine's Day, my love.
Yours truly,
Barzy <3
Taglist: @snugglyducklingbrewhouse @boeswhore @hugheshugs @quietblues
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typical-simplelove · 3 years
Text
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Part 10 - In a letter
Series Masterlist
Author's Note: Part 10!!! We're nearing the end, and I hope you're enjoying the series so far.
Warnings: none that I can think of!
Word Count: 458
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Mat quickly turned off his alarm as it went off early one morning. Much earlier than normal. Mat had to leave for a road trip; it was so early in the morning that you weren’t even awake yet to get ready for work. Mat kissed your forehead and mumbled a soft “good morning” against your skin. He pulls the blankets tighter against you so that you don’t miss the warmth he provided. Mat walks into the washroom and turns on the shower. He wanted nothing more than to get back in bed with you, but he had a job to do. As much as he loved hockey, he hated the early mornings.
After showering, getting dressed, Mat moves around in the darkness of your room as he finished packing. He’d turn on the light but that would wake you. As much as he wanted to talk to you, he knew that you needed to sleep a bit longer before going to work. Mat wheels his suitcase out into the hall and swings his carry-on over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath and walks back into the bedroom where you’re sleeping. He places a kiss on your forehead and says, “I love you. See you in a few days.”
He’s about to step out and leave, but he notices a notepad on your nightstand. He gets an idea and rips a piece of paper out and scribbles you a note. He places it underneath your phone where he knows you’re going to see it. With one last look at you, he closes the door to your bedroom and makes his way out of your apartment and heads to his car. It was only going to be five days. It was more than manageable.
When you wake up two hours later after Mat has left, the first thing you notice is the cold space next to you. You burrow further into the sheets hoping to ignore all responsibilities you may have. When you’re met with Mat’s cold side instead of his large, warm body, you’re struck with reality and move to get up. You turn off your alarm and walk over to turn the light on. You walk to your phone and check your notifications. When you put your phone back down, you notice a letter sitting beneath your phone. You pick it up and smile at Mat’s familiar handwriting.
My dearest love, See you in a few days. I love you, Mat
You text Mat an “I love you, too” to tell him you saw the letter. Just before hopping in the shower, you go and place the note in your wallet where you’d have it and be able to look at it whenever you want the memory.
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Taglist: @joelsfarabees, @ana-maa, @stars-canucks, @ilyasorokinn, @maximoff-xmen, @barzysandmarnersbitch, @coffee-ontherocks, @2manytabsopen, @boqvistsbabe, @frederikanderson, @fanficrecsby-e, @iwantahockeyhimbo, @heatherawoowoo, @islesnucks, @plds2000, @goalision, @besthockeyfics, @heybarzy, @localhockeygirl @ddayyuu, @bb-nhlqueen7, @cherrybarzy @lam-ila @barzy-xcvii (Join my taglist here!)
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islesnucks · 3 years
Note
Hi clara!😁 i’m new to hockeyblr and have been following you for a bit but i’m trying to branch out a bit more and wanted to know if you have any blog recommendations? and why? (mostly asking you for islanders blogs but if you know any avalanche blogs too that’d be great hehe) thank you xo
heyyy well first of all welcome!! here we cry a little, laugh a little, we bully them sometimes other times praise them, its a mess but it's fun.
i dont know if youre more into live blogging the games, edits, gifs, fics, stats or what, so here are some of my favorite blogs here that post isles stuff and we so happen to be mutuals lol
its gonna be long so buckle up
@sorokaaa - ali is so fun love everything she posts during games amazing content just overall she posts great clips and memes and also she's super talented her drawings are amazing, also she's the president of the ilya sorokin protection squad
@2manytabsopen - kesh is a literal sunshine her blog inst exactly like 100% hockey themed but she's the best so nice you won't regret following her and im not saying this just because were the same person in different countries ;)
@hotgirlhockey - we love mel, she does it all: live blogs games, gifs, writes, gives hockey facts in case you dont understand something, plus super nice so the whole package
@barbienoturbby - b is super nice and fun i can't count the amount of times her lb made me laugh and her gifs and edits are just *chef's kiss* so worth following her
@heybarzy - amaaaaazing writing really everything abby writes i love so if youre into reading focs go follow her plus she writes for so many different players
@mondieumat - this woman is constatky introducing me to new hot hockey players if i simp too much its 100% her fault and she enables my dilf obsession thats a good friend, plus super nice and fun, also im 99% sure shes also into avs
@hockstuff - if you ever dont understand something about hockey c has the answer, her knowledge its just infinite surprises me every day, plus also super nice and funny and friendly and i think she also likes the avs
@fallinallincurls - amazing writing wonderful incredible seriously so talented (she actually just posted a barzy fic ive been saving to read for when i have free time because i really wanna pay attention to every single word, that level of amazing writing)
@matbarzls - another amazing writer plus she live blogs isles games and its just so fun go follow caitee also she just hit 550 so let's get her to 600 now like she deserves
@calgarycanuck - im not sure if Claudia live blogs games for the isles buuuut she does write so amazing pieces for some isles players so if that's what you're looking for 100% go follow her
@ollywahlygator - looove their olly pieces since not many people write for him plus super fun during games and im almost sure they also likes the avs
@matwith1t - ok ok ok the way I fangirl whenever she posts a new barzy pieces is embarrassing buuuut I do because they are just really that amazing alli is the Shakespeare of barzy fics
@cherrylita - beautiful mood boards for like every player i know seriously dont know how luna finds so many amazing pics queen of the mood boards also super nice and friendly
@grubauerr - I think we started following each other recently but let me tell you gabbie is so fun her post during games just hilarious and she's making me an avs fan
@sorokns - also recently started following each other but she's so friendly and fun just hilarious really during games, we share our love for dilfs and ilya sorokin thats says it all and she's also making me an avs fan
@cherrymaybank - if you've been following me you probably know her we freak out over the isles together almost every single day so she's really fun and nice and also she writes what else could you need???
@rosesvioletshardy - another amazing writer (seeing a pattern here?) but apart from that super nice and friendly and also an avs fan
@iwantahockeyhimbo - just overall super nice friendly, live blogs for the isles, one of the first blogs I started following here and haven't regretted it ever since
@broadstflyers - more amazing writes, her piece gold rush its serious incredible so worth reading, go read it right now
@honeybearbarzal - and even more amazing writers that I follow, kali has some incredible pieces some of my fav barzy fics ever
(edit) I almost forgot @tysonsjosty because I still associate her with her old crosby name lol - ok taylor also another amazing writer from hockeyblr plus she writes from some players that don't get the hype they deserve here *cough* nico hischier, Phil myers and Alex lyon *cough* so go follow her for incredible fics!!
ok I probably forgot a lot of people and this basically turned into a love letter to some of my mutuals but whatever, you asked I deliver, those are some of my fav blogs here that post isles (and some avs) related stuff
I've met some other amazing people here but they dont post about the isles, however they are super nice if you want just ask and I'll give you more great people to follow
also side note: sorry if I got anything wrong like pronouns or what you actually post or your team im doing all of this from memory so big chance I forgot or wrote something wrong
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ivyglow · 3 years
Note
Number 5 with mat pwease 🥺👉👈
From Valentine’s day prompt: 5. 💐 “You got me flowers? How cliche, I loved it!”
word count: 1.7k + (I got carried away, sorry) 😬
warnings: it’s not proof read lol and it’s angsty but with fluff ending, hope you like it! ❤️
Mat was supposed to be home on Sunday morning, which means he would be able to spend February 14th with you, or so you thought because on Saturday he called to tell you that there was a delay on his flight, and part of the team was stuck in the airport until Monday. It was your first Valentine’s together so of course, you were kinda sad. Since the beginning, you two were very clear with the ‘pains’ of dating an NHLer, but you still wanted to try, and what a great thing you did because although the distance was on somedays almost unbearable, the meeting right after was amazing. And for the first time, you really felt like the saying “absence makes the heart grow fonder” was somehow true.
On Saturday, when he called you -really, voice call, not facetime- you thought he would keep talking, and even tell you he would make up for it -like he did when he missed your Family’s annual barbecue- but Mat just told you what was happening and hung up. He didn’t explain everything, just told you there was a problem, his flight was delayed and that was it. You knew his way of saying ‘I love you’ was telling you to take care, or asking you about your plans for the day, but he did nothing of it during the call and for a second you were afraid he was waiting for Valentine’s day to be over so he could break up with you, but you were quick to shake these thoughts off your head and go on with your day. Taking the opportunity to finish his gift, you wrapped everything carefully and placed a handwritten letter inside, you tried cleaning the house and baking to distract, going as far as watching The Bachelor, but Mathew was the only person able to make it sounds funny. Sighing you unlocked your phone calling someone you knew would know almost exactly how you were feeling.
It took only two rings for her to answer with a cheerful tone and you frowned, “Hey, honeybun!”
“Hi, Syd, you sound excited,” you stated before explaining, “I mean, aren’t you sad?”
“Why would I be sad?”
“For spending Valentine’s without Martin?” you explained, but coming to think about it, you would understand if she wasn’t that shaken by the news, it wasn’t her first Valentine with Matt, they were married, they dated for years, they had the time to get used to distance, but they also had the time to experience the date together first.
“Huh?” she’s puzzled and you can almost picture her pout.
“The team’s flight delay…” what if he didn’t tell her yet!?
“Oooh,” it’s a noise of understanding, “yeah, sucks right?! But I’m sure we’ll see each other on Monday, and so will you and Barzy,” you fell silent and she understood the seconds of silence. “Aw, you’re sad, aren’t you?”
Shrugging you answered, “Are you busy right now?��
“No, I’m completely free for the rest of the night, you should come over, I’m gonna order your favorite and we can eat ice cream with cookies after,” Sydney did the job of being a big sister like no one else, and sometimes you wished to be her sister, you always wondered how it must feel to have siblings, other pieces of your family that fit right with you, that gives you comfort, and joy, but also stress.
“Right, I’ll take the wine. Be there in 15,” you tell her before hanging up.
15 minutes later you were at Sydney’s house venting about your situation with Mathew. She listened to everything and made sure to remind you that he wouldn’t break up with you, there wasn’t any reason to, according to her Mat loved you -even though you told her that he never said these three words-. By 10 pm you were deep into two wine bottles shared with your friend, now trying to watch a random romcom movie that was on TV. Truth is you were typing and deleting a message on your boyfriends chat, but nothing seemed right. What would you tell him? Maybe if you reminded him about the fact that you would spend Valentine’s away he would be feeling guilty, like he was missing out on you again. You typed again, this time sending a simple, “hey, how are things out there?” however the message wasn’t even delivered.
You were confused, but maybe his phone died and he was about to connect? Trying to forget you bought your attention back to the movie, or at least tried harder this time.
When the movie was over you unlocked your phone expecting a message from Mat but you were met with the same chat, the message wasn’t even delivered.
“What’s that you fidgeting since the movie began?” Sydney asks munching a cookie.
“Barzy is not answering my texts,” shifting your position on the couch you sighed. “The messages aren’t even being delivered.”
The blond shrugged and said, “Maybe he’s busy?”
“That never happened before,” you point out, “and it’s 10 pm,” it’s not a good argument, but somehow it made sense in your head. “I’m gonna call him,” it’s your final decision and before Sydney could stop you you tap at his name. It rings nonstop and goes straigth to voice mail.
He never not answered a call from you, unless he was on the ice, and he wasn’t on the ice at 10 pm without being in a game.
“What if something happened with him?” now you worried, it’s almost impossible to swallow the lump forming on your throat.
“Y/n, look at me,” Syd calls, “You’re dealing with a lot together and you’re also missing Mat, but he’s ok, maybe he’s just busy, or his phone is dead, or maybe he’s even gaming with the guys and didn’t notice it ring,” she’s good at reasoning, she also seemed so sure you almost asked if there was something she knew that you don’t, but choosing to just listen, you sight trying to relax your body.
You talk a little more about random topics, you can tell she’s trying to distract you, and right before midnight Syd tells you both of you should rest, she had something to do in the morning -to which she didn’t specified to you- and you would probably have a bosy day too -with what? You did not knew.
When you got home it was silent and dark, empty without Mat and even emptier with the realization he wouldn’t be there in the morning. You drank water and showered to get rid of the alcohol in your body before grabbing one of his shirts to sleep. His smell engulfed you into a deep slumber that was only interrupted in the morning by the buzzing of your door bell.
Groaning you grabbed your robe before making your way to the entrance while cursing. Who could possibly be at your door this early? When you swinged the heavy wood material open you frowned.
“Good morning, there’s a deliver to miss y/n,” he stated with a smile. There was a trolley in front of him with at least 6 or 7 jars of all kind of flowers, some which you didn’t even know the name.
“From who?” you ask, maybe it was Mat?!
“It doesn’t say in here and there’s no card,” the man shrugs and points at the flowers, “where can I put these, miss?”
“These?” you grimace.
“Yeah, all the eight vases are in your name.”
Still stunned you open the door wider and points to the coffee table. It takes him almost five minutes and when he’s done it’s like your whole living room was covered in flowers. They smelled amazing and you ran to your bedroom grabbing your phone, there would be probably a message from Mat with a cue about the vases, but when you unlock the device there’s nothing. You saw he read the messages but there wasn’t any reply. It was past 8 am on a Sunday, he could be sleeping, Mat wasn’t a morning person, you knew it, but still you almost felt sadness poll inside you, but before you were able to give it any space there was another buzz.
“What the hell?” you whispered walking to your entrance again. Maybe the man really got the flowers to the wrong person, there was another y/n at the fourth floor, you knew she was single, but still, maybe she was seeing someone? It wasn’t even five minutes after that man left the flowers at your living room, maybe he bump into the right y/n on his way out?
You swallowed before swinging the door open for the second time that morning, however you were not met with the trolley and the green uniform, but with a black suitcase, a suit and a face covered by another vase of flowers.
“I told him 9 vases, one from each month together, but I believe he forgot one,” you would recognize that husky voice and heavenly fragrance from miles away. “Happy Valetine’s, princess.”
“Oh my goodness,” your voice wobbly. You stressed yourself out the whole night thinking he wanted to break up with you, but he was just planning a surprise. As soon as he lowers the vase on the ground you jump into his arms lacing his waist with your bare legs, and although it’s cold inside Mat’s body is warm against your skin, it makes your shiver and bury your frace in the crook of his neck. How you missed that smell! “I thought you were going to leave me and was trying to let me down gently, omg.”
“I could never leave you, my love,” his voice is gentle and so is his hands caressing your back and hair. You sniff before looking at the flowers in the ground, trying to change the aura. “And you got me flowers!? How cliche, I loved it!” you feel his smile when he kisses your neck, his shoulders sagged in relief with your now happy and usual tone.
“What else do you love?” his question takes you by surprise because by the seriousness in his tone you could only think he was trying to get a point, but before you can rationalize it too much your lips are moving by itself.
“You.”
“That’s good, because I love you too,” he whispers before finally kissing your lips after so long away. It’s sloppy and full of smiles, and tongue and grabbing. Mathew loved you and there wasn’t any better Valentine’s gift than his words.
113 notes · View notes
grubauer · 3 years
Text
barzys so thicc and short hes like a bolded lowercase letter in arial font
43 notes · View notes
generallybarzy · 4 years
Note
if you’re separate from barzy during this crazy time and he’s bummed about his birthday you send him so many chocolates and pictures and stuff that makes his heart hella warm
oh this made me hella warm inside awww. ouch my heartttt
He’s happy to be with his family and all, but being apart from you was taking a toll on him
He wasn’t expecting to be apart from you for this long, especially not for his birthday, so he’s kinda bummed about it, even though he’s trying to hold it together and appreciate his family’s celebration for him
Eventually, they’re all just kinda smirking at him and he’s like “what?” 
And they pull out a package 
“Something came for youuuu.”
You sent a letter with it, telling him to call you before he opened it, so his family let him go to his room to open it alone
“Babe, what is this???” He was facetiming you and grinning like crazy before he was even in his room
“I know you’re upset that I’m not there. I’m upset too. So… I sent you some things.”
His heart almost explodes at how much he loves you
The first thing he sees is a bunch of little chocolates
He laughs when you pull the same chocolate out from where you are on camera and suggest you two do a little toast with it 
His cheeks are so pink and hurt from smiling so much, and he’s so cute 
The main part of the gift, though, is the photo album. 
Mat’s smile drops when he sees it; not because he’s not happy, but because he’s just… so in awe with you
Like, he loves you so much it’s not even funny
You’re kinda worried watching him take the book out of the box, but when he opens it and sees all the pictures you’d compiled of the two of you, a grin splits across his face
He talks through his laughter, which is something you’ve always loved “Wow, baby. This is crazy!” 
You’re both just quiet and smiling and warm inside as he flips through the pages, commenting on pictures of the two of you that were taken by friends and family, pictures he’s never seen
There’s one where you’re hanging out with friends, the lightings pretty bad but you’re smiling at the camera and hanging on Mat’s side and he’s looking at you with the softest look in his eyes
And there are candid pictures you took of him when he never noticed the phone, with little handwritten notes on the page next to them “i see you ;)”
there’s a couple where you took a screenshot of him from videos. “even when we’re not together, i love you, pretty boy <3”
each picture is dated and has its own little message for him 
“I love you.” And he’s said it before but something now is just so sincere and serious. “I really love you, (Y/N).”
“I love you, Mat.”
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barzzal · 3 years
Text
between halls and thin walls → part six (final)
summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.
↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you
↳ warnings: angst, sexual/suggestive themes, language and swearing, jealousy, mutual pining, a whole lot of words that coulda been prevented if they only communicated, a major city blackout, favorite film/novel references, a bad gary, and more importantly, a very handsome swiss boy <3
↳ genre: fluff, angst!, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+
↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, final (14.3k)
↳ masterlist: the barn
↳ track: cover your tracks by a boy and his knife
note: my first ever baby!! this series was totally just the fruit of part one’s first scene. what was supposedly five parts and a mini series concluded at march, ended up with six almost six months after writing it. and while it’s not much as the other amazing works out there, i just want to express how grateful i am that you stuck with me to this day. i hope you enjoy the final installment and let me know what you think of it! happy reading!! (gif used: mine) 
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How long has it been exactly? 
Four? Five? Ten minutes? 
Or worse, an hour? Maybe an hour and a half?
Honest to god, you didn’t know. You were stuck. 
What you did know though was that your eyes are beginning to sting just by how long you’ve been staring at the plain white boring ceiling of your bedroom. Stoned to your bed and unable to move. You try to fight the urge to do so with a blink. Followed by another, and then another, and then another; just to see if all of it was real.
You see, if what your gut tells you is right, it’s almost eight in the morning. Quite of an early time to be getting yourself in such a dilemma. You try your best to perk your head just a tad in order to get a better look on the distinguishable weight snaked over your middle. The very same weight that happens to bar you from moving, much more leaving the comfort of your bed. 
Your eyes roam around every corner of your room in pursuit of an out. You did want an out, right?
Your heart races faster than it ever have as you try to recall. It was like something you couldn’t see was already consuming you; a bubble that’s made to amuse you while it slowly swallows you whole, perhaps like a weight that’s way heavier than the arms that took comfort in the fact that it was holding no one else but you. 
Still, you force yourself to think straight and face whatever’s waiting for you at the other end. 
Once you’ve shifted your head a little over to your right, you sigh. This is wrong. 
There he was, in deep slumber, eyes closed and face far too peaceful and quiet than when he’s awake.
Streaks of light flash through the cracks of the window curtains in your room, shining just right on the elaborate part of Mathew’s face. Right from the lone strand of hair that went rogue on his forehead, down to the tip of his nose, just as it eventually fades on the surface of your white cotton pillow. 
How come he gets to have all the good features? Pretty brows, long lashes, that perfectly crooked nose of his, his cheeks that are always faintly tinted, and those lips… 
Oh, you’re like a moth to a flame with those luscious lips of his. Like it’s made to make you want to sin. Countless times, just like you already did. Maybe even more.
There’s a part of you that didn’t want to wake him, but just this time, maybe you’d let your sensibility get a better hold of you. After all, a verbal contract still exists and evidently parts you from the man you’ve just slept with - sober and fully clothed. 
That, in itself, scares you a little. 
“Barz,” you whisper as quietly as you could. Your hand rests safely on his rock hard chest as you remain squeezed shut in your position. 
To your relief, even if your goal was to wake him, he doesn’t budge. So, you wait for a few seconds, reaching for his stubble just so you could slightly run your hands through it, inevitably tracing his chiseled jawline ever so lightly.
Mat shifts and you take your hand away, 
“Wake up, Mat.” 
Groggy and still physically languid from sleep, he hums comfortably as if he was in the confine of his own bed. 
“What is it?” he lazily replies, neither a trace of his current whereabouts nor whose body it was that is currently nestled in his arms. 
“You fell asleep here.” you whisper, discarding the fact that it was you who let him stay for a while. 
Mathew doesn’t answer, mainly because he was still far from being awake. Blaming it on his instincts, he pulls you closer to his chest, causing your head to fall just inches from his face. 
You stop for a while. Perhaps to catch your breath given the scenery displayed for only you to see. However, being that you weren’t supposed to be enjoying this, you relieve yourself of the pressure as  you tell him the thing that’s been bugging you the moment you’ve opened your eyes. 
“You slept in my room.” you breathe out, giving him a light nudge so he could move farther from you. 
“With me— with clothes on.”
Mathew flutters the sleep off his eyes, letting himself catch on where you already were. 
He relinquishes his hold of you just as fast as you saw that as an opening to get away from him. 
He’s clueless, stunned, and puzzled all at the same time. It seemed as though he was a hot rod being forced down your throat that you cannot last even just a decent second with him sane and sober. 
It was the first morning he’s ever spent with you that didn’t include any of the funny business that the both of you share. There were no insinuations, nor forms of indecencies. He knew that you knew why he was with you all through last night. It was all new to him as much as it was to you, and it seemed unfair, because to him, it looked like what the two of you had just done was way worse than the stuff you’ve managed to get yourselves into willingly. 
“Wait, hold up, what’s so wrong with that? We didn’t do anything.” he says, rubbing his eyes, “And aren’t you the one who told me I could sleep here?”
“Yeah,” you gesture wildly, frustratingly putting your hand on your forehead, “for like a power nap, a five-minute break. I didn’t say you can stay the night.” you stress, puffing air out of your mouth. 
“What’s the big deal?” he questions, “Why are you making it out like it’s such a bad thing? I just slept!” 
He’s furious now that he’s seeing the demeanor you’ve successfully worn right after an unfamiliar space sat between the two of you. It was alienating. It was cold and far worse that when Tito used to annoy the fuck out of him. 
“That’s exactly it, Mat! Don’t you get it?” you snap, “You slept here - and apparently, I let you when we’ve clearly talked about not sleeping in each other’s rooms, let alone wake up cuddling like some lame old suburban couple!”
“Wow,” he scoffs a laugh, “you really feel that way, huh?” 
You’re nearly sure that you saw a hint of hurt shot through his eyes as fast as it left. If you hadn’t taken a second to look right through him, you’d completely miss it as you drown in your own uncertainties.
Still, you faced him head high, standing your ground. “I just think this would complicate things.”
With knitted brows, racing to meet in between, he irate, “How is this going to complicate things exactly?”
“I don’t know.” you stutter, “Friends just don’t—”
“Friends don’t what? What is it this time?” he foolishly lets out a laugh that was more of a mocking remark in an attempt to protect his own feelings. He takes the comforter off him and finally gets off your bed.
“Friends aren’t supposed to be as close as we were a while ago. It just sends the wrong message.” you avert his gaze as you tell him. 
It burns. And it wasn’t the kind you’ve learnt to enjoy when you’re with him. It was as if he was looking at you in a different light. A light that dims before the dark eventually consumes you, leaving you obsolete.
“Since when did you care about sending the right message?” 
“It’s just that… It feels— wrong.”
Mathew breathes, trying to calm himself. It was early in the morning, and he didn’t even feel like moving yet and here you are, dropping bombs left and right knowing full well that he wasn’t fully equipped to catch one. 
It was like finally noticing the biggest joke in the room. The kind that’s been sitting ever since he decided to share a bed with you. It was awkward, unsettling, and the total opposite of what two close friends tend to stress on. 
“Oh and I suppose friends who do sleep together, have sex, and fuck days on end feels right? Because I’m sure as hell that’s what we’ve been doing!”
“What do you want from me?” you begin to shut him away,  “Why are you getting so worked up on this? I just told you you can’t sleep in my room, buddy.”
“Buddy.” Mat scoffs a laugh and looks at you in disbelief.
“I thought this was what you wanted?” you say, biting the insides of your cheeks with quirked brows. “I think we should revisit the rules again before things get more complicated.” you explain.
“Yeah, no.” he shakes his head, “You’re right. I get it.”
“Good.” you blatantly tell him, biting whatever’s about to come next. “Thank you.”
Appalled, and possibly losing the last straw of having to stomach you right now, Mat laughs to himself foolishly. This is bullshit.
“Unbelievable.” he mutters underneath his breath. He quietly reaches for the door, a hand running frustratingly through his hair before it eventually rests on his nape as he leaves you staring at him from across the room totally oblivious as to how he’s already feeling about you. 
𖥸
Mat didn’t come home for the next two days following that morning. 
In fact, he stopped coming home even after they returned from their road games in Philadelphia and Washington. You haven’t said a thing, especially to Anthony. And knowing Tito, he won’t open up a subject you weren’t ready to discuss. For the most part, he was completely unaware of what happened with you and Mat not so long ago. You couldn’t really blame him, after all, he’s chosen not to meddle with your business ever since the talk that the two of you had at the parking lot. 
He trusts you that way and you’re beyond thankful. The best thing he could do is to support you every step of the way. For now. 
You haven’t heard from Mat since then, and even if you had enough guts to ask Anthony of his whereabouts, you still wouldn’t know what to tell him. What’s there to tell anyway? You were dumb enough to make something as uncertain as your feelings about him clear as day. You’ve successfully willed a giant wall parting the two of you, establishing only what can and cannot be done. It was like giving Mat an ultimatum that will never give him the better end of the deal. It was unfair. You were unfair. And it sucks that he’s not around anymore once you’ve finally come to your senses. 
With a heavy heart and a deep desire to just sink in a warm bath, you stick your keys and come home to a cold and empty apartment. 
Tito wasn’t home for most days, especially when he’s free because of Emma. And while you’re not opposed to that, the fact that going home to such an empty place is harder and far more depressing than you’d like to admit. 
You drag your feet across the hallway, letting all your things drop onto the floor. It can wait. 
It would be nice to at least have a dog greet you though. Maybe then a heavy heart would be much easier to shoulder. Nonetheless, you don’t find the need to turn the lights on and instead make your way to the living room, however, just as you make a turn, you hear the door close coming from the hallway leading to the boys’ bedrooms. 
“Beau?” you call out, finally turning on the lights. 
Instead of seeing Tito’s warm smile and ocean eyes that always welcomed you home, what you saw were the same gray ones that left your room what seemed and felt like ages ago, towing a large suitcase behind him. 
“You’re home.” you greet him, voice elated at the sight of him as it eventually fades out when the awkward air begins to slowly and agonizingly settle between the two of you. 
Home. That’s such an odd and perhaps even a bold thing for you to say considering how your last conversation with him went. This is the first time you’ve seen him and if you only had the courage to swallow your pride and finally admit to yourself that Mat’s become an important part of your life, then maybe having to stomach him leaving you again would be much easier for you to bear.
“I was just getting what’s left of my stuff.” he quietly says, not exactly knowing how to fill the void between the two of you. 
You mutter a silent but discernible ‘Okay.’ You don’t even remember the last time you’ve had a hard time finding the words to speak, let alone have enough will to talk to someone you’ve been intimate with.
“I cleared everything by the way. The room’s back to how it was.” he declares, motioning to his bedroom door, closed, safe and sound, and without a trace of Mathew. 
“No– yeah, that’s… you didn’t have to.” you stutter, gesturing wildly whilst you’re at a loss for words.
“Thanks,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile.
The silence continues to pulsate like a dome embracing the two of you. It widens and beats every time either of you try to speak, all in the pursuit of drowning out the mind-numbing noise of the unsettling air. 
Having not much of a clue of what to say next, neither tries to pull the band-aid off nor address the elephant in the room. Cowards.
Mat grips tighter to the handle of his luggage, unsure of why he was still standing a few meters away from you. He was trying his best to remain composed given that everything you’d told him in the past was still fresh and vivid in his mind. It was against his will to pile on the thickening wall parting him from you but he didn’t want to dismiss your wishes. He knows that he has to respect that. And even if that means not having the chance to tell you what he thinks he’s already feeling, then maybe giving you the space that you clearly needed could finally suffice. 
“I better get going.” he breaks his gaze off you as it land towards the other end of the room. 
This is when you panic. Suddenly, it becomes all too real. He was leaving— again. And no, it’s not just for afternoon practices, morning skates, games and night outs with the boys. He was leaving. For good.
You take a step almost involuntarily, shielding Mat from going any further. It seemed as though your body was finally taking over what your mind couldn’t process. You didn’t want him out and you know it. You just have to find it in yourself in order for you to finally admit it because if you fail to make a move now, you might probably lose the chance and then later on lose this man entirely. And before you know it, you and Mat will be back in square one as if nothing’s happened.
 “Can we talk?” you ask as you fiddle with your fingers, “For a sec?” 
“Sure. About what?” he arches a brow and places his free hand on his hips, kind of like when he’s on a postgame interview.
On the more important things however, what did you want to talk about? 
“I-” you fall silent for you’re yet to find the words to utter. 
“I’m not sure.” you whisper.
Mat smiles but he’s reserved as you try to evidently pull your shit together. That alone makes it even harder to open up to him. It was like he’s miles away from you that you weren’t entirely sure if he’s capable of hearing what you’re about to tell him. Hell, you’re not even sure of what it was that you’re going to tell him. 
“I, uh,” he takes his hand to his nape, easing the stress out once he looks back at you, “I actually have a cab waiting for me.” he informs you, voice coming off as if he was in a hurry. He lets out a soft laugh to mask how hard it is for him to see you so okay without him. 
You see, seeing him, talking to him, being with him, has been a while for you but you forget to think about how it’s been for Mathew. Waking up and going home to an empty apartment, having neither yours nor Beau’s innate quirks and antics, and of course, having to swallow the fact that even if he wanted to leave his room at the middle of the night, your door wouldn’t be there waiting at the end of the hall for him anymore. That’s mainly why he’s tried so much not to think about you.
“Oh.” you murmur. 
“Can’t it wait some other time?” he curiously asks, unconsciously using your own foolishness to bite you in the ass. After all, what’s left to lose if there’s nothing to be lost anyway?
“No, no— yeah, of course.” you ramble, trying to play it casually, “You should go. It can wait.”
Mat pays you another smile in acknowledgement but his eyes said otherwise. He now treads past you with his luggage in tow right behind him. You turn on your heels just so you could watch the back of his head leave for the door yet again. 
You feel the build up rising in your throat but thankfully, you gather enough strength to ask one last favor from Mathew.
“Hey, Mat?” you call, making him turn once more. 
“Can we be civil around each other?” you ask, almost pleading, “For old time’s sake?”
“Sure.” he replies with a half-hearted nod and a tight-lipped smile. 
“For old time’s sake.”
𖥸
If there was one thing Anthony would give Mat credit for, it’s the fact that that fucker knows how to keep a fucking secret. He didn’t realize that Mat had the strength to keep his mouth shut considering the times he had to shut him up just for speaking non-stop. In a way, although he’s admittedly confused to the dynamic you have with him, he can’t help but appreciate the fact that Mat’s silence is a mere indication that he wanted to protect whatever’s left of what you have with him. 
He wanted to ask him what was going on almost every chance he got. In the locker room after practice, road drives, and team brunches. However, Mat’s learned the habit of dodging all of his hints ever since he left the apartment and started staying at his. He knows that it’s what you wanted and knowing you, you wouldn’t want something that’s not going to be the best for everyone. 
It’s for the best. That’s mainly the reason why Mat kept going. It was all for your own good. 
If he took it upon himself to be as selfish as he wanted to be and just straight up tell you that he wants nothing less than what you could give him, he knows it wouldn’t be fair to either of you. It’s funny how he’d often tell himself that your setup wouldn’t fuck him up, that you’re going to be the one to mess up and ruin the fun, but god, you have no idea how much of a pain in the ass it was for him to think about what could’ve been for the both of you. 
But just like you said, for old time’s sake, perhaps it’s better for him to be at that end of the line. 
This time not just for old time’s sake, but for yours.
“Belle?” Tito calls out the moment he steps into your shared apartment. 
It had been a few hours since Mat left the flat and he’s yet to find your current state. 
To say the least, you didn’t exactly know if how you reacted to Mat leaving was good and/or better than how you used to react to breakups (if what you had with Mat even counts as one), because as far as a mere inconvenience is concerned, you know you’d be getting your ass a couple of glasses, or just splurge to whatever’s comforting enough inside your fridge. Now, however, you didn’t really feel like moving. You’ve been sitting — wallowing in the couch for who knows how long. It was heavy. 
Losing Mat, and how you feel about it, came as a definite surprise. 
And it isn’t exactly the kind you’d want to pop a bad champagne to. 
“What happened?” His voice catches your attention. 
With crumpled sheets of napkins in your hand and the fact that you amazingly managed to change into some PJs for your pity party, you brace yourself for what you could no longer escape. 
Anthony walks further into the living room, your face glum under the faded light coming off of the lampshade from the accent table. He sees you perk your head up as you try to stifle your cries. 
You sniffle, trying your best to put up a smile whilst your lips quiver, “He moved out today.”
He sighs, knocks his shoes off and walks towards you. He gently takes the other end of the couch, opens his arms, and just like always, lets you break down on his chest. 
The day has been rough for you. And even though Anthony wanted to kick Mathew’s ass so badly after he told him that he was in fact moving out, he just couldn’t blame him. He knows, despite how fucked up his ways may seem, he just wants what he thinks is best for you. And unfortunately, while Anthony knows the two of you are just a couple of dumbfucks that are very much fucked up in the head for letting each other go through all this pain and misery instead of communicating and facing what you truly feel, he knows that his stupid and absolutely lovesick bestfriends will eventually come around and realize it themselves.
“Hey,” he hushes you, rubbing your back as he tries to console you, “I bought Krispy Kreme.”
𖥸
Having Mat at home wasn’t much of a change for Anthony given the years they’ve spent as roommates both in the minor leagues and in their professional careers. So, as expected, it was you who had to adjust, and Mat, for the first few weeks that he was staying, was a lot more of a child— a boy that often got into your nerves totally short of the man Anthony was. 
Long story short, if one asked which of the two is messier, all fingers should be pointed at no other than the man in question. You can’t stress enough how much of a handful Mathew was when you were being re-acquainted. All doors in the house were opened the moment Mat walked into your apartment. Cupboard doors, the toilet, the door to any bedroom he goes into, hell even the fridge door. God be damned, all of those are going to be opened once Mat walks past it. You were pretty transparent about letting your hatred about him be known, especially by him. He was like a giant dog under the impression of infinite playtime running around the house annoying everyone. 
But now that he’s gone and it’s just you and Anthony again, you can’t help but find yourself missing it. The doors, the banter, the bickering, even the endless take-outs. You miss having him around. Everything that came and went, because it meant only one thing. It meant that he was there— with you. 
Now, you’re stuck with just missing him because you can’t really do anything about it. You see, it’s cruel that way. Love. You won’t realize it’s there until you lose the person you feel it for. You won’t really know someone’s worth in your life until they leave and all that’s left after they’ve gone is this… this place you’ve purposely albeit unknowingly made especially for them. For now it is shallow, brutal, and endless— like it’s dragging you down just to drown you in its depths.
You know the thing you were scared of? It finally happened. 
You and Mat were back to square one. 
You’re pulled from your thoughts when you noticed the familiar route Anthony just took a turn to. 
It was early in the morning as Anthony drove to the Coli for a game against the New Jersey Devils. Him and Emma have gone pretty much official and so he made sure to have you by her side for her first Islander game. And while you’re thrilled and thankful for Emma because you haven’t seen Anthony this happy for who knows how long, your mind seems to reject all the laughter they share at the front seat as it flies elsewhere, eventually landing on the front of a very familiar complex Anthony takes a stop at. 
“What the hell are we doing here?” you demand an answer at once. 
Anthony doesn’t seem bothered by the threatening tone of your voice. And instead just looks at you and smiles innocently, “Mat doesn’t have his car for a week and I obviously have to take him or else he’s gonna miss the team’s breakfast. I don’t wanna risk Barry not playing him this afternoon just ‘cause the two of you can’t settle your differences.” 
Appalled by Anthony’s sudden urge to assert his ‘big-brothery’ hold on you, you helplessly turn to Emma who was playing just as innocent as her boyfriend moments ago. 
“You know I have your back.” she says, “just not this time.”
You groan, letting yourself fall back to your seat. 
In the corner of your eye, you see the giant glass doors slide to make way for a man whose physique you’ve come to know like the back of your hand. You sigh and try to keep your head straight to whatever’s passing by outside the car window. Truth be told, you wanted to look. 
Perhaps a quick glance wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Scratching the side of your brow as an attempt to shoot a shot at subtlety, (unfortunately something that didn’t go unnoticed by the people upfront), you lower your head slowly anchoring it to the left in order to get yourself your desired view. 
And there he was, rushing out the doors wearing a neat navy blue suit paired with a white dress shirt that had a few buttons you assume were intentionally left open. Oh, how you loved gameday suits. 
Slung to his shoulder was the familiar black ‘college’ backpack you’ve seen tons of times at his back for when he leaves your apartment when he’s headed for work. His hair was done in a way that gives off a ‘bed hair’ finish; one that always makes your knees go weak so effortlessly. 
As soon as Mat reaches for the door, you breakaway and return your sole attention to the few cars passing by the main road. 
Anthony’s offer to pick him up for the game also meant having to see you. Sure, while he’s clearly prepared himself for that, the fact that despite the two of you agreeing to be civil around each other didn’t really pan out the way you’ve expected. There was still a thick air of awkwardness circling the both of you and Mathew don’t exactly have the expertise to move past that. 
Well, he does normally, but not when it comes to you. 
You see, you have this unique way of making him nervous— anxious to be exact, as you always leave him sweating his ass off whenever he tries his best to impress you. 
The minute he opens the door, he sees you wearing a simple top that’s then paired with your favourite jeans and sneakers. On your lap rests an Islander reverse retro jersey that had no number plastered at the back. 
It looked unfinished. Like it was unmarked in some type of way.
Perhaps a certain number he’s got in mind might make a good finish.
He hops in with the familiar weight you most certainly missed. He acknowledges Anthony and Emma with a nod  before he eventually looks at you — stressing as to what he’s supposed to tell you as a part of your ‘civil’ arrangement. 
Regardless of his own worries, he decides to open his mouth, “Hi.”
“Hi.” you mirror what he says, sparing him a glance as you utter.
“How’ve you been?” he asks politely, taking a shot at usual yet tedious formalities. 
“I’ve been well, thanks.” you give him a tight-lipped smile, crossing your arms to your chest, “You?”
You meet Mathew’s eyes as he looks upfront, nodding, “Just the same, thank you.”
And then just like that, dead air settles yet again. Not until Anthony decides to clear it out for you. 
He looks at the two of you with his hand pinned on the steering wheel whilst the other rests on the gear. He flashes his blues in between you and Mathew before he finally chides, “Well... can we go now?”
𖥸
The boys were off to do their usual work schedule. 
You need not bother about where you and Emma should be because the WAGs happened to organize a get together in the spirit of gameday. Everyone gathered in the private lounge designated for the wives and girlfriends of the Islanders. Emma, albeit nervous, has easily formed acquaintances with Camille, JG’s wife. It was nice to have the girls meet an actual WAG and not just somebody who happens to be their husband/boyfriend’s teammate’s best friend. 
Nonetheless, considering how these gatherings get overwhelming for you, it still couldn’t drown your endless thoughts about Mat. It wasn’t bad per se but you would really appreciate not having to be affected by every little thing he might or actually already been doing. 
So in an effort to save yourself, you try and excuse yourself from the gang, saying that you have an important business call to tend to. 
For the past hour or so, you’ve been wandering around the halls of the Coliseum. 
You weren’t as known as the actual wives and girlfriends and it was definitely something you liked. Truthfully, there’s a calming ambiance every time you’re inside the Coli. It’s just how Mat describes it to be and you’ve willfully withhold the right for him to know that ever since he’s brought you with him during the games Anthony missed because of his minor injury. 
You find yourself staring at a huge glass that sheltered the acknowledgements and awards that the team has received all throughout the years of the franchise. There lay before your eyes, illuminated by numerous micro studio lights, the four miniature Stanley Cups that the league hands onto the team and a few Prince of Wales trophies back in the franchise’s two back to back wins in the 80’s. 
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” a whole, deep, and unfamiliar voice booms in the quiet hallway almost startling your admiration of the Islanders’ blinding accomplishments. 
“Uh-huh.” you acknowledge though still not finding the need to divert your eyes onto him. 
“It’d be nice to see them win another.” you add. 
To which the man chuckles to himself, scratching his brow in the process, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I’m sorry?” you immediately take offense being an Isles fan yourself. 
You look at him with disgrace in your eyes and see a cheeky wide grin in return, too confident of his prior remark that it makes you wanna roll your eyes in protest. However, being your usual nosy self, your eyes land onto the familiar NHL shirt you’ve seen on Beau and Mat hundreds of times. Although now, instead of the blue and orange, and the huge ‘Islanders’ printed on the material, the word “New Jersey Devils” marked in bold red was what welcomed your investigative irises. 
“Oh.” you mutter. 
“Yeah.” he acknowledges with a knowing look and an apologetic nod whilst he watches it dawn on you. 
“I’m not saying they’re not going to,” he tries to redeem himself as he adds, “I’m just wired to think of it that way.”
“I understand.” you look at him, “If I was in NJ, I’d probably say the same thing.”
“I’m Nico by the way.” he introduces himself and extends a hand your way, one that you took no second guesses accepting.��
With a genuine smile on your face, despite the fact that he was playing for the red guys, you shake hands as you tell him your name. 
Breaking away, Nico places both his hands inside his pockets. The two of you turn your gaze back onto the display just as Nico continues the conversation. 
“So, I assume you’re not exactly just a fan based on that all-access card.” he notes with a hinting tone in his voice. 
“Yeah. You got it right.” you can’t help but let out quite a proud smile, “And I assume that I’m actually standing in between enemy lines just by talking to you.” 
“Exactly.” he mirrors your pride, “But I wouldn’t mind crossing it every once in a while—” he stops briefly and looks at you, “say, maybe over a bad New York Pizza?”
Impressed and absolutely stunned by the subtle and perhaps even a bad ‘rom-com’ level of crappy ways to pick up a girl, you earnestly tell him, “You’re pretty smooth, aren’t you?”
“Well, not exactly.” he chuckles, “It’s probably the ‘time-crunch’ talking.”
“Oh god, you have a game!” you gasp, “Aren’t you supposed to be in your locker room or something?”
“Yeah, I just needed to get somewhere other than the rink. It’ll be my first game in months and honestly, I’m a little bit nervous.” he says with candor, thinking about the series he missed due to the injury.
“Well, you seem great,” you tell him, trying your best to sound warm and comforting.
“I think you’re gonna do just fine.” you add. 
Nico flashes a warm smile and says, “Thank you.”
You and Nico ended up chatting for a while. It’s amazing how much character you can learn from a person however little the time you actually get to share with them. He seemed like a smart, eloquent man that’s so much more than a guy who also happens to play hockey. He has a way with words that ought to build up the passion within whatever it was that he’s talking about. You and Nico talked as if you knew each other for so long and it’s undeniable that you have some sort of connection with him. Something you can’t even put into words and that’s what makes it interesting. 
You’ve told him about how you work for a known publisher in the city after he mentioned how he’d been searching for a classic edition of ‘The Art of War’, a book that happens to be something that the publishing house you’re working for has access to. To your surprise, Nico gives you his personal contact information; putting sole trust that you will stay true to your word and help him get the book he’s kept his eyes peeled for. 
He hasn’t told you much about his career nor his personal life for the matter. He didn’t want to seem braggy. However, at the end of your conversation, after running through all things you could possibly talk about in such a limited time, you’re nearly sure about not knowing what the two of you have been laughing about for the past twenty minutes or so.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says as the laughter eases out, “win or lose, how about I take you to dinner tonight?”
“Are you asking me out?” 
“Uh, honestly?” he pauses a moment before completely shying away, “Yes.”
“But partly because I wanna make sure you’re really gonna get me that book,” he adds.
You roll your eyes, finding him innately funny. 
Sure, he’s nice and he really does seem like a stand up guy. However, you realize that despite how indiscernible things are with you and Mat right now, saying yes to Nico might also mean saying no to what could possibly happen for you and Mathew. 
And you weren’t exactly ready to accept that.
𖥸
Seeing you for the first time after a couple of weeks since he moved out has really made Mat realize how much he missed being around you. Yes, it was tough, especially having to sit next to you in the car in total silence, but he knows he would rather do that than to burn most of his time thinking about whether you’re thinking of him too. In that way, sitting with you under all that muted air was clearly way better than having none of the things that involved you. 
Promising civility to each other and not following through was also something Mat had foreseen. It wasn’t entirely your fault because it was partly his. He wasn’t exactly as fine as he thought he would be in terms of turning things back to the way it was between the two of you, mainly because you really didn’t start on the right foot. 
Mathew had just wrapped his pregame availability and was therefore permitted by Barry to just do his usual preparations before a game. The game is set at three in the afternoon so Mat has a few hours to condition himself before facing the first of two games against New Jersey before finally concluding the regular season the day after tomorrow. 
He’d been wandering around the Coli for some peace and quiet. There weren’t much crowd in the vicinity yet, being that it was too early and the gates were still closed for fans. There were a few media people heading to have brunch and staff scattered around doing last minute rounds so as to ensure everything’s set for the afternoon game. 
As for Mat, other than the few notable “Hi’s”, “Hello’s” and “Good lucks” that came his way, decided to stop by one of his favorite spots in the barn. And where else would that be other than the secluded trophy wall that hosts the awards he happens to want not just for himself but mostly for the team. 
Completely, and entirely oblivious to who it was that he was going to bump into, Mat makes a swift turn heading down the said hallway. 
You and Nico had just parted ways when you received a text from Sydney asking for your whereabouts. You were too caught up typing that you were already headed back when a firm and frankly, insanely solid build welcomed you right in the face.
“I’m sorry.” he says, making you instantly look up to see if it was actually— “Mat,”
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his strong hands intuitively placed on your shoulder so as to ensure you were steady and can stand on your own. Clearly making Mathew forget the unusual bubble that two of you were caged.
“I was just wandering.” you say sheepishly. 
Afraid that you having answered his query will eventually turn your newfound arrangement into something much more dreadful, you take the leap and ask, “Why are you being so weird lately?”
To which Mat denies, just as expected. 
“What? No. Why would I be weird?”
“I don’t know.” you shrug, “You tell me.”
Mathew places both his hands inside the pockets of his Islander pull-over hoodie, not wanting to make either of you more uncomfortable with the existing situation. 
“It’s gameday, you know how it—” Mathew was about to tell you that you had nothing to worry about and that it was him that’s mainly at fault for not being a ‘friend’ around you when a voice coming from across the hall catches your attention as fast as it did his, “Y/N!”
“Hey!” has got to be the most cheerful ‘Hey!’ Mat has heard from you. 
As soon as Mat lays his eyes onto the man running towards your way, he finally understands what Anthony’s been making him feel. 
“Oh— what’s up, bro?” Nico puts a friendly fist mid air that Mat accepted half-heartedly with his. 
“All good, man. See you on the ice.” he deadpans, eyeing the both of you. 
“Yeah, for sure.” Nico says with the same kind smile. He then averts his gaze away from Mat and turns to you, “Uh, could I talk to her for a sec?”
Appreciative of Nico’s politeness, you gladly interrupted what Mat was about to say, instinctively placing a hand on his arm which was immediately caught by Mat’s line of sight. 
“You don’t need to ask him. Come on.” you briefly tell him, leading the way to get enough privacy from Mathew. 
Privacy my ass. He thinks with a clouded judgement.
“I didn’t know you knew Hischier.” Mat says at once the moment Nico turned his back.
“I didn’t.” you shortly reply, “We actually just met a while ago, and— he seemed nice.”
He is. 
“What were you guys talking about?” 
“Oh… that.” you say, absent-mindedly looking back at Nico’s trance with a small smile, “Him and I kind of got to talking, and he told me that he’s spending his day off tomorrow to find this book, and so he kind of asked me out—”
“Really?” Mat loses his mind and rambles instantly, not letting you finish. “That’s good then. I mean— that’s great. We’re done fooling around and I’m going on dates as well anyway—”
“Oh yeah?” appalled and amused as if it was a huge slap on the face, you finish what you’re actually going to say if only his far too prideful tongue hadn’t intervened. 
“Because I actually turned him down.” you bite, almost scoffing. “But you know what? Since you’ve been going on dates, fooling with ‘em and all that fancy stuff,” you claim through gritted teeth, “maybe it’s time I fool around too don’t you think?”
Mat tries to reply despite you already walking away. 
“Fine. It’s your call.” 
𖥸
Mathew was a complete and total ass when you left him in that hallway, but so was he as he played the puck on the ice for the most part of the game. 
Based on your recollection, he’d already gone to the box for the first twenty minutes of it. The first time was jotted on the boards when he took a slashing penalty right after his first face-off. The second was at the last five minutes of the second period when he took an unnecessary minor with a cross-check, nothing dangerous per se but just enough to lock him in the slammer for another two minutes. These penalties, in spite of keeping the 2-goal lead of the Isles unshaken, coincidentally involved the same player. And who else should you expect other than the fucking captain of the New Jersey Devils?
That said, the penalties he took clearly shaped the mood of the final period given that no teammate would let anyone who dared touch their captain go unnoticed. There were a few scrums involved after that, ones that involved the Identity line, but given that Greener and PK were on the ice before the line change, chirps were contained, thus keeping the game from tilting sideways. 
Thankfully, one of Mathew’s petty giveaways was killed off when Brock managed to slither in a short-handed goal, helping the team snatch a much needed win from the white jerseys. Mathew did put one for the team as well but Barry wasn’t exactly pleased with his overall performance because he’s already sensed something had put him off by the time he got back in the locker room to start getting dressed. 
Mathew wasn’t pleased with himself either. Even though his penalties didn’t cost them the game, he still knows that he could’ve been better at dealing with his own issues, especially with not letting it get in his head every now and then. He entered the locker room without a word, trying to make up for his awful behavior just a while back. 
Anthony didn’t know what happened to be exact but as soon as they got out of the locker room, seeing you at the end of the tunnel talking to Nico was rather enough to keep him caught up. 
The WAGs were just a few feet away from you and Nico waiting for their own significant others as the crew planned on heading out for dinner. They were pretty fast in assuming that you weren’t coming with them considering how lost you looked as you talked to Nico. 
His hair was still visibly fresh from the shower and his cheeks were still heavily flared. You can’t help but feel infatuated. 
Nico’s back was facing the rest of New York, not wanting to get off on a wrong foot and have everyone assume that he was trying to steal someone valuable from the team. He was leaning against the wall with a hand placed idly on his hips, letting you have an avenue to lock eyes with Mat’s as you see him standing by the huge doors of their dressing room, obviously observing. 
He was being such a jerk and an absolute prick for no reason. To make matters worse, he did all of those bad plays because he clearly wanted to hurt Nico. It’s one thing to be jealous, (if he really was) you can easily let that one pass. But committing that horrible behavior just because he can’t put his ego aside even just for a second, is clearly beyond what’s between him and you. You won’t have him ruining his character just because he can’t stop himself from being such a huge jackass.
As the two of you keep your eyes glued to one another, you’re the first one to break off the stand off and let him catch you gently place a hand on Nico’s arms as you say, “Hey, still up for that bad pizza?”
Oblivious to what was really happening behind his back, Nico answers with quite a giant grin, 
“Only if it’s the horrible kind.” he answers, hinting on what he’s already asked you earlier.
“I know just the place.” you mirror his smile, “That way you wouldn’t have to feel bad about staying here for another day.”
“Hm. I doubt that.” he contests, “I think there’s going to be something else worth staying and coming back to.”
𖥸
Mathew was fucking pissed at himself for not having his car. 
Well, that— and of course, the sight he had to sit through unfold. 
It was bad enough that he wasn’t himself tonight, but seeing you with a man that clearly shined a light on that fact just further proves his point. 
Perhaps he really was short of the man deserving to have someone as good as you. 
And while he doesn’t want to let himself wallow in that gut-wrenching narrative, he just couldn’t help himself picturing you with Hischier. It’s becoming way too real for him. You know, losing you. 
And when that day finally comes, he knows he wouldn’t be able to do anything about him because who was he in your life in the first place? Just some friend you happened to have a few spontaneous engagements with. Someone to goof around and have fun with, but never someone you’d even consider settling down with. 
Settling down? Look at the pathetic shell of a man he’s become. Here he was, a guy who’s trying to justify himself for a girl that’s way out of his league. It’s funny how he tried so hard denying it— pushing you away like that earlier when he barely has the chance. 
Fucking idiot. He thinks. 
His silence, however a delight for Anthony, was becoming eerily concerning for him as his former roommate. 
Tito decides to break Mat’s wonderment and put the lovesick pup right back to the front seat. 
“Hey, want a drink?” he asks, sparing him a brief glance before his eyes eventually turn back to the road.
To which Mat answers with a heavy sigh, making Anthony want to smack his head right on the spot.
“Are you gonna let me crash at your place?” Mathew asks, putting a lens on the fact that Tito was his only ride home. 
“You still haven’t returned your key, smartass.” the left winger smiles, the kind that feels for what his best friend’s been feeling. “So technically, it’s still your place.”
A quiet grin is evident on Mathew’s face before he returns his gaze on the car window once again, “Alright then.”
𖥸
Beau was sure that the bottle cap of the beer almost got Mat in the head the moment he popped it open, but since his friend had already been all over the place the entirety of the day, he chose to keep his mouth shut.
He and Mat were out on the balcony for some fresh air, and frankly to finally get Mat out in the open. He had been too patient with the two of you but seeing Mat get so affected tonight, to the point that it nearly cost them a game, was something he won’t let pass. He knew that you were important to him and he’s yet to realize that however Anthony also knows how much work — years, and effort, Mat had invested in his game to just let everything fall because of a simple misunderstanding.
Mat was frantically scrolling down, refreshing his instagram feed almost every second. His eyes were glued to the screen that he didn’t even notice Beau sit across from him. 
“What’s with you tonight?” Anthony innocently asks. 
Mat seemed to not hear him entirely and instead muttered something to himself, “He follows her already?” 
“Who?” 
“Uh,” he perks his head up, catching Anthony’s deep set blue eyes, “nothing.” 
Beau hands him the cold bottle of beer as he makes himself comfortable in the patio chair. 
It had been a while since they had a time to lounge and enjoy a couple of good beers with one another. It’s a Beauvis and Barzy thing every time something good happens, and of course, troubling times such as this. Mathew has been too caught up with the things that concern you that he now only realizes that he hasn’t spent much time with Beau like they used to. 
A part of him feels guilty for that. However, out of all the things he’d been guilty for in his life, getting you behind Anthony’s back was definitely what tipped off the cap. 
He takes a sip of the cold beer and meets Tito’s eyes that have already been expecting him.
“Beau, look— “ he starts, trying to find his voice amidst the aura rubbing off of Tito, “I need to tell you something, but please, you’ve got to hear me out.” 
Tito calmly puts his beer down on the glass side table, causing a firm clink as it meets the surface. 
He looks at him, coldness evident in his ocean eyes as he finally says, “I know.”
Stunned, and clearly at a loss for words, Mat gathers himself. “You do?”
“I do.” Tito deadpans. 
“I’m sorry.” he apologizes, taking off every bit of pride he had in his body.
Instead, Anthony counters, picking his bottle casually to take another sip. “No, you’re not.” 
“I am.” Mathew stresses, his voice heavy with guilt and close to cracking. 
“How— how long have you known?” he dare asks. 
“What?” Tito breaks a giant smirk, “That you and y/n sneak around at night? Go on detours? Or how you thought I’d make such a big deal out of it that you both figured making a fool out of me was the best way to go at it?” 
“Which is it?”
Mathew’s face falls, and he finds it hard to speak. 
“Look, I wasn’t gonna get myself involved even when she came to me. I don’t care what you guys are doing. You’re both adults for fuck’s sake.” he rolls his eyes, almost snarking upon remembering how he needed to ignore all the nights he caught you and Mathew sneaking into each other’s bedrooms. 
“I just hope you know that you’re hurting her,” he adds.
To which Mathew instantly denies, devoid of the things you had to digest when he left, “She’s not gonna get hurt.”
“Really?” Anthony looks at him funny, letting out a brief laugh to mock his ignorance, “How are you sure she’s not hurting now?”
In spite of the overwhelming turn of events, Mat still finds the strength to ask, “What?” 
“Don’t play dumb, Barzal.” Tito shakes him off, “I know you two more than anyone else. And I’ve seen how this fucked up dynamic of yours affected the both of you in a good way.” he confesses, hating how he needs to admit it. 
Nevertheless, when Mat doesn’t answer, Tito finds his silence as a path for him to continue, “She lights up when you walk in the room. Hell, you’re fucking dressed up at home when you’ve worn nothing but a white worn out T-Bird shirt and a sweatpants that barely fits for the last five years!— you’re dumbfucks, both of you.”
Truth be told, Anthony hasn’t seen Mat so distraught when it comes to his personal life. Sure, he might take a few losses to the heart and cry because of the insane pressure he probably has to put up with for the rest of his career, but none of the things Anthony had seen then came close to what he’s currently seeing now. 
Mathew doesn’t answer, letting himself get the scolding he deserves. After all, Tito talking endlessly is way better than having to take punches from him. 
“I’m just saying,” Tito continues, “As someone who knows shit about Y/N,—  and you, unfortunately. You know it’s more than just sex the moment you gave that handkerchief back.”
Amused that he knew about it despite not having a memory of him mentioning it after that night, Mat asks, “She told you?”
“No.” Tito answers candidly, “I accidentally heard her talking to your sister. She later on told me you had your grandma fix it up for her.”
“Wait—  they talked?” clueless to his bones, and frankly growing all the more exasperating and into Anthony’s nerves, Mathew didn’t exactly know how to process all that information at once. 
Vexed, Tito almost jumps off his seat with a balled up fist, 
“Dude come on, I’m gonna punch you I swear to god.”
And as if it was right on cue, the little chat that the boys were having are immediately halted when they hear the front door open. Tito and Mathew get on their feet as they tune in the hushed voices coming from the half-opened apartment door. They meet each other’s eyes the second they look away from the path leading to where you and your date were. 
“If that Devil walks in, you’re screwed, man.” he says, feeding Mat’s anxiety. 
When the hushed conversation stopped, and what they heard next was the firm click of the door lock, Tito slides the glass doors open, but just before he walks back inside to welcome you home, he gives Mathew a firm and reassuring squeeze on his shoulder and says, “Don’t fuck shit up.”
𖥸
You cannot deny that you had a fun time with Nico. 
He was every bit as amazing as he was when you first met him. And while his intentions seem pure, seeing him again after tonight just didn’t feel right. So, as you set him up for an appointment with a workmate of yours for his book, and let him insist on walking you right to your door as a small thank you, you kiss Nico on the cheeks as you part ways.
“I really had fun tonight.” you earnestly tell him with candor.
“I did too.” he says, thanking you yet again before you bid your final goodbyes.
Visibly tired from the rollercoaster of a day you just had, you slung your purse on the coat rack and idly made your way into your home. It was an hour before midnight and you just can’t wait to creep into your sheets and finally get some sleep. 
“Hey.” said a voice that used to welcome you come midnight. Ironically. 
“Hey.” you greet back, not entirely surprised to see him given the fact that Beau had just given you a nod right before he turns towards the kitchen. 
“Was that Hischier?” he asks, leaving you wondering why he has to refer to him in his last name every damn time.
Mat fights the bitterness coiling in his tongue as he was answered with a simple yes. 
“How was your date?” 
Surprised that he even has the face to ask such a thing, you dodge and walk past him.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Y/N,” he calls, with that distinct tone in his voice— one that’s not entirely broken at the same time that it’s not necessarily whole. 
Furious as to how he clearly still has quite a strong hold on you, you turn to face him, your eyes dead and miles off his reach, “What. Mat.”
“Can we talk?” he pleads.
“About what?” you turn your back and strut towards your bedroom. 
Mat speaks of a word that ought to stop you on your tracks, “Us.”
“I’m tired, Mathew.” you tell him in an effort to keep yourself off the edge of what you’ve been scared of since, “Let’s just talk in the morning.”
Like always, Mat does the opposite of what he’s told and follows you. He’d been following everything you say from the last moment he set foot in the corners of your bedroom. And it had made him nothing but miserable ever since. 
Beau was right. He wasn’t going to fuck shit up. 
Not anymore. 
When you see him enter through the door, you helplessly run a hand on your forehead, “Did you really not understand what I just said?” 
He stops for a moment, hurt visible in his eyes as if he was close to shattering. The sight of him in that state sends a pang to your chest, having to stomach him take down your walls all by himself as you push him away yet again. 
Devastated as to how distant you were being, Mat’s fear of losing you completely suddenly becomes more real. It seemed as though not having you by his side is suddenly what makes up the future he had waiting for him. 
A future he just can’t fully accept knowing he almost had you in it.
“Are you gonna see him again?” Mat blatantly asks, not caring about any of what’s already been said.
“Why do you care anyway?” you lash out, turning your back against him. 
“You didn’t answer.” he says, taking a step closer to you. 
“Well, it’s not for you to decide.” you answer, not exactly telling him the truth. 
Mat breathes, trying to prevent himself from breaking, “I don’t want you to see him.”
“Excuse me?” you scoff. 
You were about to lash at him for being such a dick the entire day when what he says next pulls your heart farther from your sleeves and almost into Mathew’s hands, “Please don’t see him.”
“And—” you struggle to meet his eyes, your voice cracking as you try to ease it out of your system, “And why would I do that?”
As he inched his way closer, you met his eyes already glistening under the light. 
Quietly, coming off as a soft sob, pleading for you to finally hold his hand, he says, “Because you’re with me.” 
“Barz, don’t— don’t do this.” you tell him, shaking your head, undeniably floored by how vulnerable he was being.
“Do you really want us to go down that road? This whole thing doesn’t even work now. What makes you think it’ll be any different?” you question, inevitably projecting your own fears out and loud for him to hear. 
“I don’t know.” he honestly answers, “But you were right— friends who fool around almost never work. And I think we shouldn’t anymore.”
You blink your impending tears back, offended by what he could have possibly meant.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he clears with the familiar softness now resonating in his voice. He makes his way towards you, hands grazing the sides of your skin like it was exactly where it should’ve been. 
“I don’t want to be just friends,” he says, making you stifle a sob as a tear finally run down your cheek. 
He gently takes his hand to wipe off the lone tear as he confesses. 
“’Almost’ doesn’t work for me anymore.”
Slowly, as if time suspends itself — turning all clocks in the world obsolete, Mat lifts your chin and places a sweet and tender kiss on the tip of your nose. 
“What about Beau?” you whisper. 
He chuckles softly, trying to joke around. 
“I kinda wanna do this without him.”
“Maty,” you whine, your tears falling yet again as you briefly push him away. 
His solid body doesn’t move nonetheless, “We’ve talked. Gave me a good ass-kicking.”
Your hand holds his wrist whilst he keeps resting his hands on your face, his thumbs drawing idle circles on your soft cheeks, “I think I’m gonna date you now. Will that be okay?”
Nodding your head, you whisper, “Okay.”
+1.
Your keys dangle in your hands as you close the door to your bedroom. 
“Hi.” 
Startled, you clutch your purse to your chest, breathing out, “Goodness. Don’t scare me like that!”
Once you’ve recovered, only then have you realized how much of a man Mathew was for the night as he stands before you wearing another one of his signature dress suits. 
“You look…” you tease, looking him from head to toe as if where you’re headed was just another night-out with your wingman, “decent.”
He willingly gives you a performative twirl, making you giggle at the sight. 
“Well, I should have you know,” he says the moment he’s finished the full circle, “I’m actually on a date.”
“Oh yeah?” you ride with him, “She cute?”
He looks as if to think for a second, earning a good pinch from you. 
He squirms and cackles, “Hm. Just enough.”
As Mat reaches to kiss you on the lips, a wild —almost roaring voice, clearly exasperated and done with whatever it was that you have carelessly displayed for him breaks your little moment.
“I know you’re a couple now, but do I really have to deal with you kids frolicking under my roof?” he exclaimed. 
Mat picks up the fake dried up flowers from the vase on the accent table and throws it straight towards Anthony Beauvillier, “Fuck off.”
“Alright, fine! We’ll go now!” you laugh, pushing Mathew away as the two of them threaten to begin another round of their tedious rough housing. 
Once you’re out of the apartment, Mat takes your hand and entwines it with his.
“So, where are you taking me, Mr. GQ?” you ask.
Pretending to think for a second, he hints with a cheeky grin, “Do you like pancakes?” 
“Breakfast for Dinner? Fancy.” a wide smile escapes your lips, trying to suppress your giddiness. 
“It’s like one mind, you and me both.”
If this was your typical romantic comedy movie, perhaps something that’s starring Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts, or the one with Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake, the film would probably end with the camera panning out a shot of you and Mat walking hand in hand as you head for the elevator, just like you always do, before it eventually transitions to a never before seen of the first time that the two of you ever got together. 
See, it’s normal, cheesy, tooth-rotting rom-com stuff, but it’s what sells it. It’s what drives up the material. And truthfully, it’s what will make people want to watch it over and over and over until they eventually stop, and start watching again once they’ve finally found the right person they’re going to watch it with wearing their pajamas in the middle of the night; with facemasks on, snuggled with sock-covered feet. 
Who dares to say that it’s all a lie?
You see, the first time was an accident.
That’s something you’ve kept telling yourself. 
But if you think about it, if you really think about it, 
Was it really one? 
LONG ISLAND, The night of the first time.
“A white hotel room. The storm shutters closed. The wind and the rain banging at the shutters. Daisy and Benjamin lying together on a bed out of the storm. She touches his face as if for the first time.”
“Well, so much for trying.” Mathew sighs upon closing the door, holding his phone up with the flash on. “They said it’ll be out for a while. Have you called Tito?” 
You turn to him, the light on your phone illuminating your features.
“Yup. He said he’s gonna be stuck upstate. He’s fine, though. He’s with his date.” 
Silence caught up between the two of you momentarily. Unsure of what to do next being that Anthony was always around and you didn’t really have the chance to be alone with one another, Mat scans the apartment. The whole space was enveloped in darkness. Nothing but your mobile phones and the distant emergency light from outside was what helped the two of you walk through the dark. 
“Uh,” you hug yourself, starting to feel the cold creeping through your sweater. 
“Do you want some tea?”
Mathew gave out a tight smile at the kind offer. He shyly nods, before eventually uttering a simple and quiet ‘yes’. He shifts the light on his phone towards the way leading to the kitchen, signaling you to walk ahead. He follows you shortly, his footsteps catching up to yours at a pace that was quite unfamiliar, yet trusting in the very least.
“How do you take it?” you ask as you take the kettle from the stove. You have already heated it right after Mat went down to talk with the complex super. He leans against the counter, folding his arms close to his chest, his thick knitted sweater shielding him from the cold night. 
“With honey, please.” he answers politely. 
You begin pouring hot water into the mug, leaving Mathew with nothing else to do but wait. He watched you perform the task attentively. His eyes linger on how it felt right seeing you move around the kitchen. He watches how your lips purse, careful so as not to spill anything on the cold marbled counter. He didn’t notice you were done not until you met his gaze, eyes flickering away the moment it met yours. You do the same. 
Mathew leans forward and takes a packet of Chamomile tea, clutching it in his hand as he rummages through the tea box, looking for the lone packet of French Vanilla. His finger stops the moment he sees it, the thought of him knowing what tea you drink dawning on him. It was a surprise that he knew all along when he knew he hadn’t been paying attention to you or anything that you do for the matter. 
He gathers himself shortly, handing you the square package. He hears you mutter a soft ‘thank you’, placing both of your mugs on the island, your hands just a few inches close from each other. 
The two of you take your respective places. Mathew was leaning against the counter just like he did moments ago. You set your mug down before eventually hopping onto the other side across from Mat. You rest your back against the wall as the two of you bask in another episode of shared quietude. 
You were lost in your trance staring at the moonlight passing through the window when Mathew pops a question, “D’you think we should wait for Beau?” 
For one thing, he seemed fine when you got off the phone. “He said he might be staying the night over at a friend’s place.” you simply say, and Mat seemed to have understood. 
Just like that, as fast as the breeze came and went, the silence was just as cold as ice yet again. 
“Do you wanna do something? The power’s gonna be out for at least 6 hours.” he speaks, obviously trying his best to connect with you. 
You haven’t had the chance to be alone with Mathew ever since he moved in. Sure, you’ve been with him on countless parties and dinners, but the two of you have always been separated by the team and the WAGs. 
Mat was always with the boys and you know how much they tend to crowd out a table. You, on the other hand, despite not being a WAG, was always seated with the girls as if you were one. You have always been welcomed by them and you were treated as Anthony’s sister. But despite the obvious bond you and Tito share, shaping one with Mat, whom he was clearly closest in the team, felt more work than it’s worth. 
Mathew wasn’t exactly as he was in Tito’s stories. At least from what you’re willing to recall. 
Tito told you about how Mathew was the most annoying human being he’s ever met. How he was the loudest in the team that Anders had to call him out a few times as if he was a little kid. How he used to squat so much at his place before you moved in. And how he would do anything just to be a pain in the ass. But regardless of that, Tito told you that that was what he loved most about Mat. He’s a bother. Not just to him but everyone on the team. And as surprising as that was, him being a bother was actually a good thing. It’s even safe to say that it was one of the reasons why you looked forward to meeting him. 
However, by the time you finally got to, the Mathew that was introduced to you was nowhere close to the Mathew you knew through the stories Anthony’s told you. He was quiet and guarded and aloof. And not once did he ever try to pick up a decent conversation with you. 
The two of you see each other once in a while and exchange courteous hellos and goodbyes, but other than that, you knew Mathew was nothing but a mere acquaintance. That’s why seeing him try for the first time made you think that maybe he wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe the two of you had just gotten on a wrong foot.
“We can’t really do anything, can we?” you chuckle, looking around the dark place embracing you and Mat. He chuckles too upon realizing how dumb his question was. 
“So, we just sit here then,” he sighs.
“Or... we can talk.” you propose, finally taking the leap Mathew was too hesitant to take. 
The truth is, Mathew was all those things Tito has told you about. If not, even more. 
Mathew was just deeply intimidated by you. Sure, it is a stupid thing to admit (not that he ever did), but he’s always gotten the feeling that he could easily disappoint someone like you. Or— just you, for the matter. He didn’t know why exactly but he wanted to do nothing but impress you when you’re around and he knew that none of his dumb jokes would ever help him with that. 
Mat wasn’t scared of you, to put it bluntly. However, he did care about what you thought about him. He knew he shouldn’t, after all, you were just his best friend’s best friend. But no matter how hard he tried to pick up on the real reason, he had nothing. 
“What d’you want to talk about?” he asks, letting you run the course. 
You press your lips together, trying to think of something worth talking about. 
“How’s work?” you ask out of the blue, making Mat chuckle.
 “Work is fine,” he answers. 
Afraid that the conversation would die down the second he stays silent, he decides to face the music and speak the truth instead. 
“Wow. We’re really bad at this.” he laughs, earning one from you too. 
“To be fair, you ignore me most of the time. So, it’s really not my fault if you think about it.” you tell him. 
Mat raises a brow in dissent, “Weren’t you the one ignoring me?” 
“No. I wasn’t ignoring you. We’re just not at the same place most of the time.” you say, sipping on your tea. You and Mat were rarely in the same room together when the team held weekend barbecues or game night. You were always caught up in your own bubbles, despite already being in one. 
“Not this time, though.” Mathew absentmindedly comments. Unsure of what he really meant by it. When you don’t  answer, he clears his throat and speaks once again, “I’m sorry I didn’t put much effort getting to know you in the past.” he finally admits. 
“Me too.” you share the sentiment. “But hey, you’ve been a good friend nonetheless and you’re being a good friend right now too.”
There was a warm smile on his lips. His eyes were looking down at the mug securely placed on both of his hands, lightly brushing his fingers through the rim. Your words finally break the thick ice that’s been barring you from Mat all throughout the years. 
Much to your surprise, the conversation between the two of you flowed  a lot more smoothly than you’d first expected. He told you about all the things he’s got going on at the moment. He told you about his pointing streak, the fact that he doesn’t actually hate dogs, how he takes stolen and bad pictures of Beau when he’s asleep, and how much he appreciates the two of you for taking him in. 
With that short amount of time, you were able to see Mathew through an entirely different lens. No, it wasn’t like an epiphany where one would realize how much of a good person someone really is. Mat was already a good lad regardless of his ridiculous quirks and all. But in that moment, as the two of you exchange stories of your all too mediocre lives, sharing a good laugh at a dumb childhood story or two, you began seeing Mathew in a light that’s never shone on him before. One that came out of him so naturally. One that’s genuine, candid, and pure. 
“How come we’ve never had a talk like this before?” Mat asks as the laughter dies down. 
“Well, if you aren’t on the ice, you’re stuck in your room playing that stupid NBA game with Tito.” you honestly say, rolling your eyes. You were thankful for the dark that Mat didn’t have to see any of your facial expressions. 
“Oh yeah?” he plays it off, “What about you then? You always have your head hooked on a book or something.” he returns, thinking about the many times he’s caught you in the living room with your feet dangling on the couch, or curled up to your stomach as you indulge yourself with a good book. 
You defensively scoff, hating that you had to admit he was right. After all, you did spend an awful lot of your time burying yourself in books and indulging yourself with poetic words that have always had a strong hold on you. 
“That’s ‘cause it’s my job, silly.” you simply answer. One that surprisingly caught Mat’s attention. 
“What do you mean? Like, read read? Legit read for a living?” his child-like curiosity makes your heart flutter. 
The chance to talk about something you’re passionate about showing on how your voice sounded once you spoke.
“Yup. I love it and that’s why I do it. You sound so surprised for someone who actually does the exact same thing.” 
He sheepishly laughs, his shoulders relaxing at the comfort of your playful banter. “Touché. I do do that.” 
“So... you must’ve read like a hundred of ‘em.” he says, pertaining to the books you’ve read, including ones from when you were a kid. 
“I have.” you utter, pausing as you add, “And over two hundred games played is just as nice.”
Mathew couldn’t help but smile. Quite taken aback at how you knew how many games he’s played in his professional career. 
“What’s your favorite book?” he inquires. 
He waits for you for a minute as you think about which work hit you best. Finally, you take a good sip on your tea before setting it down beside you. 
“It’s a script actually. But if you do think about it, it would probably still count as a book...” you trail off your own thoughts. 
Mat pulls you back when he asks, “What is it?”
“Well, you know that movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button? The one with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett,” you shoot your shot, hoping that Mat already knew so you wouldn’t have to go through the length of explaining the entire movie plot. However, you see him faintly shake his head, waiting for you to continue whatever it was that you were about to say. 
“That movie is actually based on a book written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It’s about a boy born with this bizarre condition. He was born as an old man. He ages backward though, and then later on dies as a child.” you explain, easing him into it.
Your gaze flickered towards Mat who was, at the time, too immersed in listening with both of his hands clasped together, his eyes never leaving your frame. A sign that you freely took as your cue to go on. 
“See, now, the book was utterly depressing. Benjamin did grow backwards, but unlike the movie, his wife and son left him to die. So he did die alone as a baby. The book was magnificently dark… and melancholic.” your voice dies down for a second before you continue, “And then this movie came and unearthed the heart that Fitzgerald amazingly buried for years.”
“In the movie, although Benjamin was still a peculiar being as a child, he was loved and adored by many. He had friends, he read and went to places.” you stop for a moment, “But most importantly, he met Daisy.” you say, your voice soft, nestling a smile that Mat adored silently from afar. 
Mat was quiet for once. He didn’t cut you off with his terrible jokes nor did he make fun of how you ardently talked about the said book he’s asked about just a while ago. 
“Do you have it?” Mat breaks and lets himself sink in his curiosity. 
“What?” you quirk your brows, puzzled. 
“The script.” he simply says. 
To which you answer, accompanied by a nod. 
“In my bedroom, actually.”
“Can I see it?” Mat speaks at once, stunned that those words came out of someone who was as bad at reading as him. 
“Like, right now?” 
He shrugs, the now forgotten mug of tea grows cold as the two of you begin a dance that’s ought to take over yours and Mathew’s newly found friendship. 
“We’ve got four and a half hours left to burn.” he says, hopping off the counter, “And I wanna find out how the story goes.” 
𖥸
“I think I’ve put it here somewhere.” you mutter, running your fingers through the books placed neatly on the shelf just beside your work table. 
You were busy scanning the familiar titles, oblivious to how close Mat was on your back as he held his phone above your head, lighting up the whole rack.
“Here it is!” you cheer once you’ve dangled your fingers on its spine, you quickly turn to face Mat whose face was just inches away from your own. 
The two of you clear each other’s throats, blinking as you return to your own selves, remembering the reason why you had brought him to your room in the first place.
“They’re quiet, just the sound of the rain and the chattering shutters. She lays closer to him— warmly.”
You grab Mathew by the hand and sink down onto the floor, your back against the hard surface of the shelf but neither of you made any complaints for you were too caught up flipping through the pages, maybe even a little too much to notice how preoccupied Mat was as he looked down on you. 
“We should watch it when the power’s back on.” Mat suggests. 
You look at him, smiling in agreement.  
“We will. But for now, you’re reading it with me.”
You walked Mat through the shifts and turns of the material, letting him ask a few questions every now and then. When he gets the names mixed up, or when he doesn’t get some things along the way. You read the words as Mat did the same. 
You were Daisy and he was Benjamin. 
Daisy, whom Benjamin knew he was going to spend the rest of his waking days with. Daisy, who snuck with him under the dining table just to read a bedtime story. Daisy, who was his every bit of light. And Daisy who never failed to wish Benjamin good night. 
Mathew, for all he knows and doesn’t, became Benjamin. Benjamin who saw no one else but Daisy and Daisy alone. Benjamin who wrote her endless postcards to every place he’d go. Benjamin who always held her hand. And Benjamin who never failed to say good night.
“What does it feel like growing younger?” you read the lines as simple as it was. 
“I don’t know.” he replies, looking at you as he continues to read Benjamin’s lines. “I’m always looking out of my own eyes.” 
Devoid of how entranced Mat was becoming at the sight of you in total awe of what you’re passionate about, you continue on reading Daisy’s lines. 
“Will you still love me when I can’t stand straight, when my skin grows old and spotted… Will you still love me when my step gets slow, when I sleep too much, when you have to push me in a chair,” you turn your head onto Mat, assuming that he was still caught up on reading. Perhaps, he was— just no longer by Daisy. 
But was he still Benjamin? 
He lets out a shy muted chuckle, trying to mask the beating of his chest and decides to continue. 
He shifts the flashlight faintly whilst you take him in, “Will you still love me when I have pimples? When I think it’s funny to make fart noises,” he reads, a smile creeping into his lips. Nonetheless, he continues, “Will you still love me when I think girls have cooties, will you still love me when I wet my bed at night… Will you still love me when I’m afraid of things that aren’t real—”
“Nothing lasts.” 
“Maybe some things last.” 
“I’ve never seen anything not come to an end.”
“Maybe it’s something you can’t see.”
For a little while, you and Mat borrow Benjamin and Daisy’s words for you’re yet to have a grasp on your own. 
“I’m cold, Benjamin.” you read, turning on Mat who was already looking your way. 
“The storm’s died down. Benjamin and Daisy falling asleep.”
Mathew whispers, Benjamin’s voice gone and replaced wholly by his own, “And you said,”
“Good night, Benjamin.” you answer, no longer having to look at the old white pages. 
You lean in and he does just the same, leaving almost no space between the two of you. 
 “And I said,” he says, his eyes darting briefly to your lips before it turns back and gaze at your irises deeply, the storm in his eyes sucking you in— 
“Kiss me.” 
“What?” Mat flutters the daze off his eyes, “That’s not what it says here.”
“No.” you let go of the manuscript and keep him close, “I’m saying it.”
With a hand already gripping your hips, clueless as to how he ended up on top of you in the first place, Mat takes the high road and gathers enough strength to get a hold of himself before the two of you sink in the inevitabilities of your own innate reckless tendencies. The kiss, of all that he’s had in his lifetime, was definitely a kiss he wanted to break— right when he still can. 
“Be honest with me,” he asked breathlessly, “How drunk are you?”
Despite being puzzled by query, you manage to answer, “We weren’t drinking, Mat.”
Crap. 
“But if we were, you know, hypothetically,” you watch his throat move as he clears his voice, “how drunk would you be?” 
Your hand lands from his nape and onto his shoulder as you thought of a viable answer, “Enough?”
“What kind of an answer is that?” he questions, letting his weight fall on his forearm, “I told you to be honest.”
“Well, that depends,— how drunk are you?“ you turn the tables, “hypothetically.”
Surprisingly, not needing any more words out of all that he’s read all night, he settles with one of yours, “Enough.” 
“I can work with enough.”
A giant smirk breaks in Mat’s lips as fast as it comes crashing back on yours; claiming each other’s very much — and without a doubt, amorous needs.
You see, ‘Almost’ was a word that has parted you long enough, but as you stare into each other’s eyes, you watch it dissipate along with your hands intertwined. For just like what Benjamin had told Daisy that night, you and Mat, in spite of all that’s passed and gone, finally caught up to each other; the two of you meeting in the middle. 
You were right all along. 
‘Almost’ never works.
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thirteenisles · 4 years
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I’m kinda new to the hockey world so apologies if this is a dumb question. How do you pronounce Tito? I’ve looked everywhere for a video where someone called Beauvillier this and I can’t find one anywhere haha
Like the letter T and the word toe, so Tee-toe! There’s a video of him and Barzy talking one and one and Barzy lists off all of Tito’s nicknames.
Once I get off work, I’ll look for the video and reblog it for you!
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fanforthefics · 5 years
Note
Kid line for either kid fic/accidental marriage/ secret marriage, you pick
1) The relationship isn’t exactly new, but it isn’t old, either. 
They’d been feeling things out between the three of them--inching towards something in sideways looks and lingering touches and talks about things that weren’t about it but were--at the end of Taylor’s time in Edmonton, but then Taylor got traded, and that blew everything up for a while. Then, just as that was starting to settle in, when they were back on their three-way Facetimes and texting constantly and all of that, Jordan got traded, and that blew everything up again. 
So in the end, it wasn’t until midway through that season that they’d actually figured it out, gotten the three of them in one place where they could have Talk (Taylor added in the capital, but that was definitely how he heard it in Ebs’ voice, when he’d proposed it) during the All Star Break, where they’d converged on Taylor’s apartment ostensibly for the talk but also, Taylor suspected, because they were skeptical about Taylor’s ability to take care of himself when he was injured. Which, fuck them both, Taylor can totally take care of himself. 
He wasn’t going to say no, though, not to Ebs’ fussing, because he’s totally the dad friend even though he likes to deny it, or to Nuge’s concerted efforts to distract him, because no one thinks of cool shit to do like Nuge. And also--they were back together, and with him, and when they’d had the Talk it had ended satisfactorily in Taylor’s slightly-too-small-for-three-hockey-players bed, so. Taylor thinks he won that one. 
And since then it’s been...good. They’ve been figuring it out. They spend most of their time at what feels like the three furthest points on a continent away from each other at any given moment, but they’re getting pretty good at Skype sex (this is where, Taylor suspects, having three people is good; Taylor’s pretty good at dirty talk, if he does say so himself, and Nuge is very into it, which is pretty clear, but Ebs clearly finds it easier to do when it’s a conversation and not a monologue). And they find time--breaks, off-seasons. Whenever Ryan’s in the New York area for any of the teams. 
It works, is what Taylor’s saying. Maybe the logistics aren’t easy, but everything else is, and Ebs and Nuge definitely make Taylor happy. It works. 
Even if Taylor feels like he spends most of his time wanting someone who isn’t there, and wondering if they’ll drift away. 
2) Jordan wakes up to a full screen of texts from Taylor, Ryan, and their group thread, and four voicemails, all from Nuge. 
He finds it himself to be fond, even if it’s fucking early and a part of him is dreading whatever shit the two of them got up to in Vegas alone. No, he is fond, he corrects--he just...wishes he could have been there. Or not really, because being here means he’s still playing into spring, means that he’s still riding the high of that sweep and prepping for the next round, but. He does wish that the timing worked out so he could be there, instead of having to drag himself out for lunch with Barzy and Beau because somehow, they’ve decided he has insight for them. But..Jordan might not wear a letter, probably won’t ever wear one, but he’s not ditching team, not even for Taylor and Ryan. 
FOMO aside, he’s starting to flip through the texts, which are basically progressively less comprehensible versions of how much fun they’re having and how they wish he was there--Taylor’s demanding, Ryan’s more guilt-inducing for how they don’t demand--when he gets a Facetime call, from Taylor. 
“Hey, babe,” he says, flipping on the camera, “What are you doing up?” It’s early in New York--barely seven, because Jordan’s trying to be an adult or whatever--which makes it obscenely early in Vegas. 
“We haven’t gone to sleep yet!” Taylor cheers. He and Ryan are both in the frame--well, somewhat, the fact that they are both very clearly very drunk is obvious both from how the phone’s tilted kind of nauseatingly and in how flushed Ryan’s cheeks are and the sloppiness of Taylor’s grin. Jordan laughs, and shakes his head. His boys. 
“We went everywhere,” Ryan tells Jordan, very seriously in the way he only gets when smashed. “Every bar. I’ve drunk so much. I don’t think i’ve ever been drunker.” 
“You think?” Jordan asks. He sort of want to record this; he has a feeling that it’s going to be great blackmail material. 
“He’s a lightweight,” Taylor dismisses, kissing Ryan’s temple loudly. Ryan turns into it, tugs Taylor in for a longer kiss. 
Jordan lets it go for a while, because he likes to see that, but, “If we’re going to do that, I need to get my pants off,” he points out, and Taylor pulls away, like he’d just remembered Jordan was there. 
“No! No, we have something to tell you!” 
“It was hysterical,” Ryan says, still so serious despite his now messy hair. “We were at a bar, and there was a chapel with a Gretzky--like an Elvis, but not? So we--” 
“We got married!” Taylor interrupts, loud. He shoves his hand into the camera, so the ring shows. “Look! Nuge, show Ebs.” 
Ryan lifts his hand, so Jordan can see that ring too. They’re horrible rings, gaudy plastic like they aren’t both multimillionaires. 
“You what?” Jordan asks. His hand closes tight around the blankets. 
“We got married,” Ryan repeats, sounding very satisfied. His hand is very high up Taylor’s thigh. “By Gretzky! That’s the hockiest marriage ever.” 
“Nuge saw the chapel and I was like, we should use the Gretzky! Then Nuge was like, we should, though, because he was wearing your old blue Oilers hat and I had a shirt that we got you--oh, we got you a present!--and so we had something old and something borrowed and something blue and so we had to!” Taylor’s grinning too, like it’s the cleverest thing he’s ever heard. They’re really fucking drunk. 
Jordan takes a long, slow breath. “You got married?” He repeats. He keeps on getting stuck on that. 
“Yeah!” Ryan’s hand is getting much higher on Taylor’s thigh still. 
“Did anyone see you?” 
“Gretzky!” 
“No, did--anyone recognize you?” Jordan corrects himself. “Don’t you need a witness or something?” 
“It was the lady at the chapel,” Ryan explains. “They’ve got it all set up.” 
“Yeah I bet they do,” Jordan mutters. “Fuck. Okay. And she didn’t know who you were?” Something occurs to him then. He swallows. “Or--do you not care if people know?” 
“Sure, they can know.” Taylor states, loud and arrogant, and tilts Ryan’s face up to kiss him again. “I love you.” He kisses Ryan again, then, and only then, glances at the screen too. Ryan’s stopped pretending he’s not just groping Taylor.  “Everyone should know that.” 
That’s not--they’d talked about it, that they wanted to stay low key, that even if the NHL was ready for someone to come out--which was a debatable point--it definitely wasn’t ready for a polyamorous relationship. But--
“You’re too drunk for this conversation,” Jordan decides. “Call me back when you’re sober.” 
“But Ebs!” Ryan says, his eyebrows drawing together in exaggerated shock. “We’re gonna--you don’t want to wa--” 
“When you’re sober,” Jordan snaps, and hangs up the call. 
Then he takes a few deep breaths, and goes to make himself breakfast. 
3) This is what Jordan always--not knew, but...felt. Even if he couldn’t say it, wouldn’t say it, because he knows--knew--it was stupid. But. 
But the thing is, he remembers, coming to Edmonton, and how first Taylor, then Nuge, were going to save the Oilers. He remembers watching them wear that. He remembers not wearing it. 
Oh, Jordan’s good, he’s not saying he isn’t, but--he wasn’t one of the first pick darlings, with all the baggage and praise that went with that. And he’s not saying that Taylor or Ryan would base their relationships off of hockey skill, obviously. But it’s...they’re both wearing letters, and solid on their teams, and Jordan’s doing well, but--he has to earn it, in a way it never seems like either of them do. 
Which doesn’t mean anything, really. It doesn’t. Except that he remembers when Nuge came to Edmonton too, how he watched Taylor, with those big admiring eyes. Jordan gets that, obviously, and obviously he understands being drawn to Taylor--it’s not like he stood a chance--but. But.
But Ryan hadn’t been looking at him like that, not until Taylor had already pulled them into their orbit. But Taylor hadn’t been interested in Jordan, not until Ryan had come in and shaken things up. It’s not...Jordan loves them both, and he knows they love him, he does. 
Just. There are things he knows, about the two of them, and about him. 
Things like they got married. 
Jordan knows that they were drunk, or whatever, but that’s--you do things drunk that you wanted to do sober but were too cowardly to do. So apparently when they were drunk, his boyfriends wanted to get married to each other. When he wasn’t there. 
It’s fine, really. He knows, because he talked to them about it when they sobered up, Taylor still cracking up like he still sort of found it hilarious and Ryan a little red-faced with embarrassment, that their agents are working on annulling it. Taylor doesn’t really want it public, not really, he admits, not meeting anyone’s eyes. (”But it should be,” he says, after that, and this time he looks at them, Ryan next to him, then Jordan over the phone, “Everyone should know I love you.”). 
So it’s--fine. Jordan has always known this. He can live with that. 
4) Ryan still has the ring. 
It’s stupid, he knows it is. They need to get it annulled for any number of reasons, and it’s not like it meant anything. Ryan barely even remembers it, just has a vague memory of seeing the chapel and having Taylor there with him and thinking that something felt right. Or maybe he’d made a joke and Taylor had made a joke and it had escalated because they tended to do that when left to themselves. 
It doesn’t really matter though, because clearly they need to get it annulled. 
“It’s not the right time,” Taylor says, less like he’s trying to convince Ryan and more like he’s trying to convince himself. “No one’s ready for it.” 
“We aren’t ready,” Ryan agrees. He’s not. Not to be the poster boy for...queer polyamory in the NHL, and definitely not to be married. He loves them both, but he’s not ready for that. 
Jordan grunts, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re doing a three-way call today, because it’s summer so Jordan’s home in Regina and Taylor’s in Kingston and Ryan’s home in BC, just to really get the full spread of the country. Ryan’s not sure what he hates most, when they’re all spread out like this, three points on a triangle, or when the two of them are together in New York and he’s not. There’s a comfort to knowing they’re together, to seeing them leaning into each other as naturally as they did when they were 20, but somehow Ryan feels farther apart then too. 
“So it’s for the best,” Taylor says. A statement. Like he makes sometimes, so sure. 
“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. Jordan still doesn’t say anything. “We were drunk, anyway,” he goes on. “We can’t be the first NHLers who got drunk married in Vegas.” 
“Oh, who would you say has?” Taylor picks up on it, his eyes lighting up and leaning in. “What about Bennie and Segs, they’re basically married already and Segs is stupid enough to do that.” 
“You did that, I don’t think you can call anyone stupid for it,” Jordan points out. Ryan finds himself smiling just to hear his voice again. 
Taylor rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but I married Ryan, so it wasn’t as stupid,” he explains, and Ryan can’t help his smile at that, either. “C’mon, Ebs. Keep up.” 
“Yeah, for sure.” Jordan looks over his screen at--something--then back at them. “My mom’s calling, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you guys later.” 
“Ebs don’t leave us,” Taylor whines, and Ryan makes his best pouting face too. 
Jordan’s smile flickers. “Sorry,” He says, and sounds like he means it. “Love you.” 
“Love you too,” Ryan echoes, and Taylor says it too before Jordan hangs up. 
“Is he okay?” Ryan asks. It’s not--Jordan would ditch them to go help his mom, he is that kind of combination of mama’s boy and also Good Canadian Boy and also Responsible Person who would do that, but...
“We’ll both be in New York for some media stuff soon,” Taylor says, though he’s got a look on his face like he agrees with Ryan. “I can ask him then.” 
Sometimes Ryan hates the whole Tristate area. Resents it for taking Jordan and Taylor away from him. For letting them be there and him be across a country. 
“I’ll check in too,” he agrees, and Taylor grins at him before hanging up too. 
5) (This is what Ryan doesn’t want to think about, but does every time he sees the ring-- being very drunk in a Vegas casino, an arm around Taylor and both of them yelling into the phone at Ebs, and wishing wanting needing this to be more. To have them with him, not a continent away, ready to be pulled apart. Seeing the chapel, and Taylor’s joke, and thinking --that’s something to have, three thousand miles away). 
6) They get the marriages annulled with very little fuss, and no one is ever the wiser. Well, that’s not true--Taylor maybe tells the story to a few guys because he thinks it’s pretty hilarious, all things considered; of course he’d end up married in Vegas. Everyone else seems to agree. 
“This is why they need you, eh?” Taylor’s dad had said, rolling his eyes at Jordan. Jordan smiled, rolled his eyes back and leaned into Taylor when he threw an arm around him, but didn’t say anything. He’d been doing that a lot, recently--not saying anything. It’s not like Jordan was usually the biggest talker, but he was generally more talkative than this. 
it had been happening for a while, Taylor had been noticing. It wasn’t like Jordan wasn’t there, wasn’t on the phone or in their chat or sending memes or giving them shit, but--it felt different. Off. Taylor hadn’t been his best friend for so long, his boyfriend for almost two years, not to notice when something was Up with Ebs. 
Taylor does what he always does to fix shit like that--he tries to be extra loud and enthusiastic at Jordan, to urge him out of his mood mainly by doing stupid shit and waiting for Jordan to make fun of him for it. Its hard to do, from far away--they have time to meet up later in the off season, but even in the off season they all have commitments and training--but Taylor tries. 
And, of course, he talks to Ryan about it, because if something wrong with their boyfriend they need to strategize about. (And, maybe--Taylor wants to make sure it’s not just him. That this isn’t Jordan drifting away too). 
But Ryan doesn’t have any ideas. “Maybe it’s just the season?” he says, even though they both know it’s not right. “Getting swept can’t be fun.” 
“At least he made it,” Taylor counters, only a little bitter. Well. Only a little bitter at Jordan. “And he talks to us about hockey shit. I know when Jordan’s fucked up by hockey shit.” 
Ryan shakes his head, not like he’s denying it, just like he doesn’t have any other ideas. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready?” Ryan suggests, not quite sounding like he believes it. Jordan believes in communication, until sometimes he remembers he is also a dumbass jock in his twenties and forgets to. 
"But---” 
“Hallsy,” Ryan says, a little sharp, and Taylor gets it, okay? He knows that sometimes he pushes too hard and fast for the other two, that sometimes they like to think about things for a second, but--
“I want to help now,” he mutters, and Ryan smiles, wry but fond. 
“I’m sure he knows that.” 
“He better,” Taylor says, darkly.  
“And we’ll keep an eye on him,” Ryan goes on. “It’ll be a lot harder for him to avoid it when we’re all together.” 
Taylor smiles just to think of it--of them finally back together, for a solid three weeks, just the three of them and all the training they have to do. And training’s made a lot better by getting to ogle Ryan and Jordan and be ogled in return.
Yeah. It’ll get better by then. If Jordan doesn’t work through it on his own first. 
7) Jordan doesn’t think he’s being paranoid, but he knows Ryan and Taylor are acting...off. They’re talking together more, not just to him, and obviously they all should have their own conversations or whatever but sometimes it feels like they’re keeping it a secret from him, which is...new. They’ll stop talking and just look at him, guilt on Taylor’s face because he’s shitty at lying, when Jordan joins the conversation. It’s weird. 
Jordan tries not to notice it, he does. Like he tries not to think about the marriage, or about how he saw in the background of a call that Ryan still has the ring sitting on his dresser, or about--any of that. It’s the off-season, and it’s always more busy than he remembers but he can finally see family and friends and then, the magic three weeks at Taylor’s parent’s lake house. 
It’s easier and harder, up there, in person. Easier because everything’s easier with Ryan and Taylor around, because Taylor wanders in as Jordan’s cooking and wraps himself around Jordan’s back and kisses at his neck as he tries to convince Jordan to let him try some early, because Jordan will come downstairs in then morning to find Ryan on the porch in the morning light and sit next to him and lean in, easy, and Ryan will silently offer his coffee for Jordan to steal, because the sex is as good as it ever was, so much better in person, because Jordan falls asleep with Taylor’s soft snores in his ear and Ryan’s arm flung over his chest. Jordan never has to remember that he loves them, why he loves them, because it’s something in his bones, not something he forgets, but it’s easier to remember how good they are, when they’re together. 
But harder, because it’s harder to ignore that sometimes Ryan and Taylor glance at him, then at each other, and there’s meaning in the look Jordan can’t interpret. To not see how sometimes Taylor starts to play with Ryan’s fingers, like he’s looking for the ring there. It’s not--he’s not jealous, not when he loves them both so much, when he loves to see them happy together so much. But it’s a reminder, always. 
And it doesn’t help that Hallsy keeps making jokes about it. 
“As a married man,” he’ll throw into an argument, smirking, or, 
“Whatever happened to ‘in sickness and in health’?” he whines, when Ryan refuses to indulge him and get him another gatorade when he claims he’s too sore to move (”I don’t remember vowing that,” Ryan retorts, and grabs Jordan’s arm when he goes to get it to shut Taylor up, “No, don’t set bad habits.”), or 
“Hey, it’s our marriage-guy!” when a picture of Gretzky flashes on the TV screen, “Do you think we should send him a fruit basket or something?”
 (Ryan chuckles. Jordan bites at his lip. “You do know it’s called a officiant, right?” Ryan asks, and Taylor punches him. 
“I think I was clear,” Taylor retorts, and looks at Jordan. “Right? Marriage-guy is totally acceptable.” 
“I’m gonna go--call home,” Jordan decides, and gets up, shaking off the hand Ryan puts on his arm, like a question.), until, 
“No, it’s mine!” Taylor argues, holding the fries he’d just stolen from Ryan above his head and trying to fend off Ryan with the other hand, as Jordan choked on his own water in laughter. “Half of what’s yours, right? Split right down the middle.” 
“Fuck that, I want a pre-nup,” Ryan retorts, still half-climbing on top of Taylor to go for it. Jordan’s stopped laughing. 
“Too late, it’s done. Halfsies for life,” Taylor replies, laughing, and Jordan just--
“We get it, you were married,” he snaps. 
Two faces turn to him, confusion in both of them. “Ebs?” Ryan asks, confused and gentle, and then they look at each other again, like there’s something happening that Jordan can’t be a part of, that they’re keeping Jordan out of, and--
He shoves his chair back. “I’m done,” he announces, despite his mostly full plate, and walks away. 
8) “Jordan?” Taylor asks, knocking on the door to their bedroom. It’s pretty clearly where Jordan is; the house isn’t that big and a locked door is pretty obvious. “Ebs?” 
“He didn’t mean--he’s not really done, right?” Ryan asks, biting on his lip. He looks about as terrified of that as Taylor feels. “Not--with us?” 
“No,” Taylor says. He wouldn’t say it’s more certainly than he feels, but--Ryan needs him to be sure now, so he can be. Jordan can’t--he wouldn’t just--
But Jordan’s been acting weird, and it’s not like him to just walk away like that; Jordan’s usually more confrontational than that. 
Taylor knocks again. “C’mon Ebs, can we talk? Whatever’s wrong, we can talk about it.” 
There’s a beat, then the door opens, and Jordan’s there. He’s a little flushed, and he won’t meet either of their eyes, but he steps back to let them in, at least, before he sits back down on the bed. Taylor’d like to sit on the bed too, but that feels--is that pushy? He thinks it might be. Taylor wants to kiss Jordan until he shuts up about whatever that was, and then watch Jordan kiss Ryan until Ryan stops looking so pale, and then he’ll kiss Ryan for a while too, just to even things out. But--this doesn’t seem like the time. 
He doesn’t know what it is the time for, though. He’s still trying to figure out what to say when Ryan says, sharp like a bullet through the room, 
“Are you done with us?” Taylor chokes. Jordan looks up, his eyes very wide. Ryan’s voice is steady, but his hands are clenched into fists and he’s so, so pale. “Is that what you meant? That you’re done with this relationship?”
“We can figure it out if it is, we’ll talk--” Taylor starts, but then Jordan shakes his head. 
“Are you?” he asks, his voice quiet, rough. He looks down at his hands again. 
“Why would I be?” Ryan asks, honestly surprised. He glances at Taylor; Taylor shrugs. He doesn’t get it either. 
“Not--both of you.” Jordan takes a long breath. “If you’re going to break up with me, I don’t--I won’t begrudge you guys, I know you’ll make each other happy, but you should do it now, it’ll be--” 
“What the actual fuck?” Taylor demands, and fuck not being pushy. He drops down onto the bed next to Jordan, so he can kick at his shin for saying something like that. 
Jordan swallows. “I said--” 
“I heard what you said,” Taylor spits out the last word. “But what the fuck?” 
“Where’s that even coming from?” Ryan asks, sharp. His arms are crossed, and he’s looking at Ebs like he’s a particularly tricky D-man standing between him and the goal. “Why would you--” 
“I get it, I said,” Jordan keeps going. For all Taylor’s kicking at him, he’s not looking away from his lap. “I know, like--you guys get each other, and you definitely liked each other first, I just got--added on--and I’m good but I’m not like you guys, and you--” 
“Shut up,” Taylor interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear any of this. How long has Jordan been thinking this? 
Jordan shrugs. “It’s true, though.” 
“Okay, putting aside that it’s not--” 
“Yeah, in what world was I into Nuge first?” Taylor asks, because he has some very vivid memories of that first year in Edmonton and some incriminating fantasies he has never told anyone about because that way comes chirping. “No offense, Ryan.” 
“None taken.” Ryan’s still looking at Jordan. “Why now? Have you always been just what, waiting for this?” 
“I mean, I guess I always knew it, but...” 
“But what?” Taylor demands when Jordan trails off. 
“But you got married!” Jordan looks up, suddenly. His face is set in a way that reminds Taylor of when he was traded. “I think that’s a pretty clear declaration of who’s important, don’t you? And you--you didn’t even want to get it annulled,” Jordan throws at Taylor. “And you still have the ring anyway,” he goes on, to Ryan. “So I can figure out what that means.” 
“We were drunk,” Taylor says, into the quiet that follows. “Really really drunk.” 
Jordan snorts, no humor in it. “When have you ever done something you didn’t actually want to do when you were drunk?” He looks back down at his hands. 
“I--” 
“You’re right,” Ryan says, suddenly, and Taylor jerks to look at Ryan, as he drops to his knees in front of them, one hand on Taylor’s thigh and one on Jordan’s hands, in his lap. “I did want to, and I do still have the ring. I just...” he shakes his head. “It sucks, during the season. You guys are close to each other when you’re home, at least, but I’m so far away, and I--I think I wanted something to hold onto. To remind myself you’re there.” Taylor gapes. He’d never known--he knew long distance sucked, but he’d never known it had gotten to Ryan like that. 
“But,” Ryan goes on, his hands closing around Jordan’s, “If you don’t think it was about both of you, then you’re stupider than Hallsy.” 
“Hey!” 
Ryan ignores him. “I don’t remember all of that night, but I do--we had to circle back, remember?” he asks Taylor. “Because you needed to get get Jordan’s shirt to put on.” 
“And you needed his hat,” Taylor agrees. He does remember that. “To make sure he was there too.” 
“I wasn’t, though.” 
“Yeah, well, next time don’t make playoffs and you will be,” Taylor retorts. He moves closer, so he can put an arm around Jordan’s shoulders. Jordan’s still tense, but he’s not trying to get away or anything. 
“I don’t think polyamorous marriage is legal in Nevada,” Jordan says, and Taylor rolls his eyes as Ryan snorts. 
“That’s their problem, not ours.” He takes a breath, then adds, “And, like, I did know I had to get it annulled. I just liked the idea of everyone knowing what you meant to me. It’d make it feel more...real.” 
“You think we aren’t real?” Ryan asks, looking up at Taylor. He can feel Jordan’s gaze on him too. 
“No, obviously, this is--the most real thing, but...I dunno.” Taylor shrugs. This is outside of his capabilities. “Long distance sucks.” 
“Amen,” Jordan says, and Ryan hums his agreement. 
“But,” Taylor goes on, “All of that shit you were thinking is just--don’t.” 
“Yeah.” Jordan licks at his lips. “I know, sometimes it just gets...” He trails off, but Ryan nods, and, yeah. Clearly they all get it. 
“Do you need us to prove it?” Taylor asks, though. “What do you want? I’ll marry you too, if you want.” He pauses a beat, then, “Actually, we could probably do that, there’s got to be cheap flights to Vegas, right? Or like, someone here must be ordained--” 
“Why do you get to marry Ebs?” Ryan asks, smacking Taylor on the thigh in a way that sends confusing messages to Taylor’s dick. 
“I called dibs.” 
“You can’t just dibs that, I’m the one who came up with the marriage thing, I think I should get to marry him.” 
“Why should that--” 
“No one is marrying anyone else,” Jordan cuts in, but he’s laughing, that gap-toothed grin bright in a way that’s burned in Taylor since he was a teenager. “It’s a miracle no one’s found out what happened to you two, we are not risking that.” 
“Fine,” Taylor sighs, overdramatic. 
“I think actually that no one finding out is proof we could do it again without anyone finding out,” Ryan argues, and Jordan snorts, shaking his head. 
“You can prove it to me another way,” Jordan tells him, and leans down to meet Ryan’s kiss halfway. Taylor watches, savoring the warmth and heat that always comes from looking at the two of them, until they break apart, and stay for a second so close, like they’re sharing the same breath. 
It’s very hot, and cute, and Taylor likes it a lot, but, “My turn,” he announces, and turns Jordan’s face to him so he can kiss him too, trying to push into that kiss everything he’s so bad at saying--how much this matters, how much Jordan matters, that it’s the three of them together that’s so awesome. 
Then Ryan responds to one of their tugging on his hand, and he’s there too, and they all fall back onto the bed together. 
9) It doesn’t get easier, exactly. Not as the season starts, and Ryan’s back on the other side of the continent, talking with Taylor and Jordan through screens; back as hockey takes over their life and finding a time all three of them can talk together gets harder and harder. 
But--it is easier, knowing that the long distance isn’t easy for anyone. That their shit and insecurities are out there. 
“I always told you communication is important,” Jordan says, sounding very smug, and ignoring Taylor’s scoff. 
“You didn’t communicate with us and convinced yourself we were going to dump you,” Ryan points out, and Jordan makes a face at the camera. In the background, Ryan can see his New York apartment, that odd combination of familiar from what he’d had in Edmonton and how much he sees over Skype and unfamiliar. Jordan looks easy, though, smiling at them again. 
“You know Ebs is a do as he says, not as he does, kind of guy,” Taylor puts in, and Jordan rolls his eyes at him too. 
“We should tell his new kids that,” Ryan muses. 
“You are not telling anyone anything, and I don’t have kids,” Jordan retorts, like he hadn’t just been talking about the new Islander rookies and how he’s settling them in. 
“Sure, you haven’t adopted them yet,” Ryan says. “Give it time.” Season’s still early, he means to say, but--
“Yeah, polyamorous marriage would have to be legal first,” Taylor says blithely, and Jordan’s face goes red. “I think my mom would kill me otherwise.” 
“Not necessarily,” Ryan replies. HIs heartbeat is loud in his ears. “We could just live in sin.” 
Taylor looks scandalized. “Do you want to disappoint my mother, Nuge?” he asks, incredulous. “Really?” 
“We’d have to wait until we’re all on the same coast,” Jordan puts in, grinning at them. Ryan gets--they all get--it’s a pipe dream still, far far away for any number of reasons. 
But the fondness in their eyes is real, even three thousand miles away, and Ryan doesn’t need a ring to remind him of that. 
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