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matwith1t · 3 years

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

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

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

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

ONE

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

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

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

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

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

“How many have they won?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded and blindly followed her out of the arena.

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

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

“Grace––”

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

“Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart dropped down deep into your stomach.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, she knows Mat.”

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

You glared at Grace, “Not before today.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth dropped at her bluntness and Mat laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That left you and Mat alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–––

TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What shirt?”

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

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

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

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

You shook your head, “Just me tonight.”

“Will you know what’s going on?”

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

Mat snickered, “If you say so…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was the last game you watched?”

“The Saturday game,” you answered him.

“Did you watch the game on Tuesday?”

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

Mat hummed, “Just wondering.”

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

“I should probably go soon.”

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

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

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

“We fly back early tomorrow morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With you.”

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

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

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

–––

THREE

“Let’s turn the game on.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head in protest.

“I’m turning it on.”

“No you’re not––”

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

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

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

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

But Grace had spoken too soon.

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

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

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

“And the Flames tie it up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m turning it off.”

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

“I can’t––”

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

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

And the Islanders lost.

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

–––

FOUR

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

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

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

But there was no way to escape this game.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, can I?” You raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be watching.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you love me, wear my jersey.”

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

––

The ride back to Mat’s apartment was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what if––”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t going to say anything!”

“I know you––”

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

“Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I look like a real fan now.”

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

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

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

861 notes · View notes

raysofcrosby · 4 years

Text

NOW THAT I FOUND YOU – M. BARZAL

requested: yes | no

warning(s): cursing, slight mentions of sex, but other than that, nothing.

word count: 5,868

authors note: welcome to my new series :) i have no idea how long this is going to last, but i’m pretty excited for it. so, first things first, considering what i have planned for the character of jeremy, i didn’t want to use a real rangers player. so jeremy is a fictional dude on the team. i think that’s it for now, i’m not really sure what else i can think of about this series. so, oh well, enjoy :)

my masterlist | stuff i have planned | who i’ll write for | requests

"I can't take it anymore!" Tito said, storming into the locker room and stomping his way over to his cubby. "I am literally going to take her to the Brooklyn bridge and throw her into the Hudson."

Mat looked up from his skates and over at his best friend as he plopped down into his cubby, huffing, and puffing as he got undressed. He looked over at Anders, who was looking at Brass...the three of them all sharing confused looks at their locker neighbor. "Uh, you okay over there Tito?" Anders asked, looking at Mat for at least the slightest hint as to what he could be rambling on about.

"No clue," Mat mouthed, shrugging his shoulders and looking back down as he continued to tie his skate.

"No, I'm not okay," Tito tossed his sweatshirt into his cubby and stepped out of his joggers. "Does anyone want a newly 22-year-old female college student? Because I have one and I'm not opposed to passing her off before I result to murder."

"I'm pretty sure that is illegal, buddy," Jordan said, walking by and patting him on the shoulder. "Both are, actually. Like, highly illegal."

"Oh, God Tito," Matt said, coming out from the bathrooms. "What are you bitching about now?"

"She ironed my underwear." Tito tugged on his pants over his compression shorts and sighed, shaking his head.

"What?" Mat laughed, reaching behind him and grabbing his compression shirt.

"Y/N...she ironed my underwear," he stood up and turned towards his cubby, pulling a pair of ironed boxers out of the duffle he had carried in with him and turned back towards the guys. "I went to grab a pair this morning and I was greeted with this! They're stiff, feel powdery and quite frankly smell like shit–"

"Are you sure that's the soap and not just your horrible hygiene?" Matt joked, tossing a water bottle at him.

"Manchuk...Matty," Tito smiled, turning in their direction. "How do you two feel about having a live-in nanny? Her cooking skills are subpar unless even worse if the recipe comes off of Pinterest. She consumes more wine than water– but she's great with kids."

"I'm just finding it hard to believe your only problem with Y/N is the fact she ironed your underwear," Jordan said, shaking his head. "What's the catch?"

"Yeah, there's got to be something else that has you considering pre-meditated murder," Matt chimed in with a loud laugh.

"I NEED TO GET LAID, all right?!" Tito yelled, tossing his ironed pair of boxers back into the duffle bag. "I need to have hot, drunken sex with a stranger who lets herself out in the morning! I need to get laid so fucking bad, but I can't do it with my sister in the room across from mine! It's gross."

The locker room was silent as his teammates just stared at him. Mat wanted to laugh at his best friend but didn't want to do it at his expense. Sure, he'd been there a time or two, what young guy in his 20's hasn't. But never had he yelled about it to his teammates in such an exaggerated fashion. "Have you thought about telling her that?" Mat asked, grabbing his practice jersey and sliding it on over his head. "Y/N's pretty reasonable, I'm sure she'd agree to go to a friends or something for the night."

"Oh yeah, let me just go ahead and tell my little sister, 'hey, do you mind getting out of the apartment for the night? I need to get my dick sucked. Thanks, don't tell mom!'" Tito sat down to put on his skates, giving Mat a sarcastic look. "Does that sound good to you, Barzy?"

"I don't know about Barzy, but that sounds great to me," Matt laughed as he tied his pants. "Why is she staying at your place? I thought she was in Uni? Doesn't she have a dorm?"

"Nope, she followed her doucheface of a boyfriend down here and he convinced her to stay in his apartment instead of getting a dorm." He stood up and reached into his locker, grabbing his practice jersey. "Next thing I know, she shows up at my door crying, saying they broke up and she's been at my place ever since."

Mat remembered that night. He and Tito were pre-gaming, finishing off their drinks, and waiting for the uber to arrive. They were coming off of a high, absolutely destroying the Maple Leafs 5-0 and that high followed them home. Everyone on the team was going out– it was a well called for a celebration, even the guys with families at home. Normally, the team would pregame together before taking ubers over to whatever club or bar they decided to take over for the night. But those who did have kids at home wanted to stop at home and say goodnight to their wives and kids before heading out.

They were talking about whether or not they wanted to wait up here for the uber or wait down on the street when a knock barely made noise about Tito's playlist. Mat thought he had heard something but wasn't sure if he had confused it with the bass or not. So, he brushed it off. It wasn't until a small break in the song when the two of them could hear three rapid knocks, followed by the sound of your voice coming from the other side of the door, did they know that you were there.

Mat was closest to the door, so he was the one who walked over and looked through the peephole. He knew it was you just based on the sound of your voice from when you knocked, but, it didn't hurt to be safe and check to see who was at the door– that way Tito couldn't blame him if he let a random into his apartment. He recognized the hoodie you were wearing, it was the Beauvillier Islanders hoodie that Tito had gotten you for your birthday just this past summer. Mat told him it was a stupid gift, but Tito laughed, saying that it was his way of tricking you into finally wearing something in support of him since you had stopped wearing Islanders gear the moment you started dating Jeremy last fall. A Rangers player you had met on a girls' night out in the city. "A mix of interests" as your excuse, and Tito was bothered that his sister wouldn't wear his team's logo anymore– but instead, the logo on their top rival.

It was a mess, but one that Mat never, ever wanted to get involved with.

But there you were, dripping wet from the thunderstorm that had been hovering over the city from the moment he walked into Barclay to play. You had the hood on your head and you were avoiding eye-contact with the door– but he knew it was you. So, he opened the door with no hesitations, barely getting out a simple hi before you brushed by him and darted down the hallway, a door slamming behind you.

Tito, in true fashion, paused his music and stomped after you, mumbling about how you were just going to stroll into his apartment, that he pays for, and slam his doors without even saying hello. Mat remembered laughing, just because the Beauvillier sibling dynamic was an interesting one. He came back a few moments later, shoving his phone into his pocket and walked over to Mat. He said that he couldn't get much out of you but the fact that you and Jeremy had broken up and he needed to pay the cab driver downstairs $40 for driving you from Manhattan.

Tito was a good brother. He could be a huge pain in the ass, sure. You and he had had more than your fair shares of endless, rigorous chirping fights that most of the time, left Mat standing there just looking between the two of you like he was watching a match. But still to this day, Mat could never understand why Tito didn't seem all that bothered about how abruptly you had walked into his apartment. Tito had you and Francis, and more often than not, always brushed you off as one of the guys thanks to your tomboy upbringing. Mat had a sister and she's dated one too many assholes for his liking, so he could spot it from a mile away.

Your face was swollen and red and he was more than positive that you had cried the entire car ride there.

And you've been living at Tito's ever since.

"I'm serious, I need her to leave," Tito was following behind him as they left the locker room to head out to the rink. "And I can't just kick her out."

"You literally just talked about shoving her into the Hudson," Jordan laughed, shaking his head. "I think you can do something as simple as, 'hey, maybe you should find someone to stay with for a while.'"

Tito just rolled his eyes as he stepped out onto the ice, skating beside Matt. "I'm serious Barzy, I think she's driving me insane."

"It was one incident, Tito," Mat said, shaking his head. "Y/N isn't that bad."

"It wasn't just one incident," they cut the corner, Mat pushing himself ahead. "She almost burnt down my kitchen trying to make breakup cupcakes. She's redecorated my bathroom with bath bombs and make-up, she even got rid of my Shrek shower curtain!"

"To be fair, that's your guest bathroom and that Shrek shower curtain was hideous"

"Regardless! She's slowly taking over my entire apartment and turning it into her...her...her stupid lovesick breakup reno project!" He tossed his arms up in the air, letting them fall back down and almost hitting Brass in the head. "Oops, sorry bud!"

Mat laughed as they cut another corner, shaking his head. "Have you ever tried talking to her?"

"No, because then she'd get her puppy eyes all going and I'd feel like even more of a douche for wanting her out." He huffed, shaking his head. "I need an excuse, something to just...get her out for a few weeks until I can find her someplace to stay for the rest of the year. Then plead with her housing office to find her a dorm."

"I don't know what to tell you, man." Mat said, skating ahead.

"I'll come up with something, I'm sure I can cash in a favor somewhere." Tito sighed, as the two of them joined the rest of their team at center ice for stretching.

Mat just laughed, shaking his head at his best friend. Sure, if he was in the same position, it wouldn't exactly be his ideal living situation to have his sister living across the hall– but he definitely wouldn't be as against it. At least, he didn't think so.

"I've figured it out."

Mat felt his foot slip against the wet tile and his heart practically jumped out of his chest as the slipping feeling. He held his right arm out, holding himself steady against the tile before ducking his head beneath the shower head, letting the conditioner rinse from his hair. He looked over his shoulder to see Tito standing at the opening of the shower area, freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, can we not talk about this right now?"

"I'm just letting you know, I figured it out." Tito smiled, nodding before walking away from the shower.

Mat shook his head, spitting out some water before turning off the water and grabbing the towel he had hung up just to the right. He wrapped it around his waist, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair to get all of the excess water out. He almost dreaded making his way back towards the locker room. Tito had been pestering him all practice, trying to make him come up with ways he could kick you out.

Fake an insect infestation? No, then he'd have to leave his apartment too.

Figure out a way to get some flooding in her room? But then he'd have to hire someone to clean up all of the water.

Every outrageous idea possible had crossed his mind and Mat had to listen to it for the entire practice. As if the practice itself hadn't been draining on him, listening to him go on and on was even more. But, he was playing the best friend role, and did say he would help him on one condition– it didn't involve hurting your feelings.

"Great, you're here, now listen–"

"No to the insects. No to an animal break-in and we already decided that pouring water on her stuff and saying a pipe was leaking wouldn't work," Mat said, sitting down in his locker and looking at Tito. "What in the hell could you have come up with now?"

"Remember how I said I could cash in a favor?"

Mat nodded, standing up and grabbing his street clothes as he turned his back to Tito. "Yeah, did you figure it out?"

"I sure did."

Mat stepped into his boxer briefs and dropped the towel as he picked up his joggers. "All right? And who's the poor sucker?" Tito hadn't replied as fast as he had been and Mat would be lying if he said it wasn't a little concerning. He tugged the waistband of his joggers up before turning to see Tito smiling at him. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at the poor sucker who owes me a favor." He had his classic shit-eating smirk on his face, the kind cameras always zoomed in the moment he checked someone hard.

Mat blinked once, twice, three times before the reality set in. His brain was racing through every recent time he spent with Tito, never once remembering an event where he said that he owed him a favor. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You owe me a–"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you said," Mat put his arms through his sweatshirt, tugging his down and over his head before running his fingers through his hair again. "But I don't know what you're talking about. When did I ever owe you a favor?"

"When I saved your ass that night at Nest when you were picking up the redhead but that hot tinder girl with blue hair you invited showed up." Tito stood up and walked over to Mat, still smiling. "I performed the perfect, switcharoo maneuver so that the redhead never noticed you took tinder girl home."

"You took the redhead home! How is that helping me?" Mat turned towards his locker and grabbed his phone and Gatorade, shaking his head. "Besides, that was two years ago."

"It was a win for both of us! You didn't get totally bitchslapped in the club and I got laid," Tito followed behind him, staying on his heels. "It may have been two years ago, but you still said, 'Tito, man...I owe you one.'"

"I don't–"

Tito cut him off, standing in front of him as they stood in the hall. He crossed his arms, his smile falling from his face. "And now I'm cashing it in. You're helping me get Y/N out of my apartment."

Mat rolled his eyes, resting his hands on his hips. "And how exactly am I supposed to help you with that? You've literally exhausted every plausible option." When Tito didn't come up with a reply, Mat just shook his head and brushed by him.

"I've got an idea bro, I swear," He jogged up behind him as they walked out of the arena to head towards the parking lot. "But, you're probably not going to like it."

As the crisp fall air greeted them, Mat could hear the voice in the back of his head telling him not to entertain Tito. A gut feeling deep inside that this wasn't going to work out– none of Tito's ideas ever worked out. "What is it?"

Tito hesitated, unsure just how his best friend would reply. Sure, he's had plenty of other crazy ideas before– but this one might just be way out there. But he didn't care, he was a young, physical and thriving man in his early 20's– and at this point, he didn't care about logical reasoning. He just desperately needed to get laid. And if that meant brushing his sister off onto his best friend, he'd do it.

"You're going to pretend you're utterly heartbroken from some break up and can't be alone–"

Mat stopped in his tracks, whipping around to Tito with wide eyes. "Dude what the–"

"Y/N is a total empath and when I tell her all about your emotional turmoil and that I don't know how to help, she'll no doubt step in. Then I'll just figure something out to keep her out of my apartment and boom, problem solved."

"Problem not solved!" Mat yelled, waving his hand at Tito. "Your problem literally has about a million plot holes in it!"

Tito closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sighing before opening them and looking at Mat. "I'm going to need you to hear me out before you say no– which, may I remind you, isn't an option anyway."

Mat took a deep breath and sighed, knowing damn well that somewhere down the line, he'd regret this very moment he even gave Tito the chance to explain. Even his initial explanation seemed so fucking stupid that there was no way it could ever work out. But maybe, if he allowed him to explain, he'd realize just how unrealistic his plan was, and just drop the entire idea then man up and tell Y/N to stay with a friend. "Fine," he stopped at his car, unlocking it so Tito could get into the passenger seat. "But you're buying lunch."

This was such a bad idea– he knew it would be. From the moment the suggestion left Tito's mouth the first time, Mat knew it wouldn't work. There's no way it could. Hell, even Liana said it was when he called her for advice after his lunch. And as far as common sense goes, he likes to think that Liana has a lot more

Tito's plan stayed the same– Mat was supposed to play brokenhearted and after lunch, the two of them would go over to his apartment, where you would be home from class. Tito would comment on how Mat 'hasn't been the same' and make a joke about how the two of you should just live together in your misery. You, the empath that you were, would take an interest in Mat's "broken heart" and offer to help in any way. Tito, knowing Mat was actually in the middle of turning the third guest bedroom in his apartment into a man-cave/gaming room and how much you love decorating, I.E. his bathroom, would suggest that maybe you could help him with that too.

It wouldn't work, Mat was convinced of that from the moment the entire idea left Tito's mouth. He'd known you almost as long as he knew Tito, meeting you the summer after the 2015 IIHF World U18 Championship. You were only a year younger than them both and for the three weeks that Mat had stayed with your family, he felt like he got to know you pretty well. You guys weren't best friends by any means, but you were definitely good friends. Your friendship growing when you decided to transfer to Fordham and when you weren't hanging out with Jeremy or your classmates, you were with Tito, Mat, and their teammates.

Needless to say, he was confident walking into the apartment knowing that there was no way that you would fall for this horrible excuse. You wouldn't leave your room in Tito's apartment to come and stay with Mat because he was "too brokenhearted to function." But leave it to Tito to think that you would fall for it. He tried not to break character, he really did. But how the hell was he supposed to pretend to be brokenhearted from a failed relationship, when he's never felt that?

He's had relationships before, sure. Break-ups? Absolutely. But none so bad that he felt like he wanted to drink himself into a slumber or just hide under the covers for the rest of time. He had outlets to get out any negative emotion. He had hockey and he had the boxing classes he attended with Tito every now and again. Besides that, he never had strong feelings for someone to the point where he was feeling what you were feeling.

As predicted, you had agreed to go with Tito and Mat over to Mat's apartment to see just what he had to deal with. He felt a twinge of guilt when you started to ask the simple questions:

How are you feeling?

Do you want to talk about it?

What happened?

He and Tito hadn't gotten that far in the plan– creating a backstory, which should have been another sign that this was never going to end well. So, on the ride to his apartment, he just stuck with short answered replies– "fine" "not yet" "it's still too soon." And he wanted nothing more than to smack Tito in the passenger seat, who was trying his damndest not to laugh.

When they got to the apartment hours later, Mat led you to the third guest room, showing you just everything he had. In a corner on tarps, he had three cans of paint, all unopened and a bunch of painting supplies. In the middle of the room, boxed furniture he'd been too lazy to move. He was barely focused on what you were saying when he felt his phone vibrate and saw Tito nodding at him.

Tito: see? i told u. total diy/renovator. you could get free labor out of this.

Mat: one problem there, bud. she doesn't seem too keen to get out of your apartment. all she's done is offer to take me to lunch for the next week to 'talk about my feelings'

Tito: okay? go talk about your feelings.

Mat: I DON'T HAVE ANY FEELINGS

Mat: I DON'T HAVE A RECENT EX-GIRLFRIEND

"Are you two okay?" You asked, almost scaring the two boys. Mat shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket, staring at you with wide eyes. You had an eyebrow raised and looked awfully suspicious of them both.

"Do you guys want dinner?" Tito asked, already heading towards the door. "I can order some pizzas from down the street."

"That's okay," You said, following him towards the door. "I've got this new enchilada recipe I wanted to try and–"

"No!" Tito couldn't be any less obvious that he didn't want you to follow him, his raised voice causing you to step back and look at him in shock. "I uh, I mean...I already ordered them. Barzy and I talked about it...right?"

Mat glared at Tito, wishing deep down that this plan would fail, but knowing that he couldn't leave his best friend out to dry. "Yeah...we did." He turned to you, crossing his arms. "Hope that's okay."

"No, it's fine," you replied, nodding. "Pizza is good."

Tito clapped his hands together and smiled. "Great, I'll be right back!"

He couldn't have run out of the apartment any faster, leaving you and Mat there standing in the middle of the room. This wasn't part of the plan and Mat was pissed. He stared at the door, contemplating telling you about your brother's ulterior motive to all of this– but it wouldn't hurt Tito...it would hurt you. So he decided against it and turned to you, sighing. "We can go wait in the living room for him to come back."

You nodded and followed him out of the guest room, walking down the hallway. "Can I have something to drink?"

"Water? Wine?" He asked, waving you over to the couch as he stopped in the kitchen. "Tequila?" God, how he wanted a drink. At least it might alleviate the headache Tito's antics were causing.

"It's Monday," you laughed, leaning against the back of the couch. "I guess I could go for some wine."

"White or Red?"

"You have both?"

He laughed, turning around and placing two unopened bottles– one of each. "My mom likes red, I like white. It's her leftover bottle from when she was here a two weeks ago."

"I'll take a glass of white, thank you."

He nodded, putting the bottle of red back into the fridge before moving towards his cabinets and opening the drinking glasses– reaching up to the top and grabbing two wine glasses. When he turned back around, he looked over at you, ready to say something, but he stopped.

You were still leaning against the back of his couch, left arm draped across your stomach as the other held onto your phone. You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, your eyes glued to the screen. He normally wouldn't think anything of it, except for the look on your face. Even from where he was standing, he could notice the frown and the way that your eyebrows were burrowed towards each other. He noticed your fingers on your left hand were fidgeting, plucking at your Fordham long sleeve. Everything about you standing there was just...small, quiet– radiating energy that said, 'I don't want anyone to see me.' Which, in all of the years that he knew you, was the complete opposite of who you were.

He couldn't help but wonder what the hell Jeremy did to screw you up this bad.

He poured your glasses, putting the cork back into the bottle, and made his way to you. You were so lost in your phone, that it wasn't until he cleared his throat, that you realized he was standing there.

"Oh," you stood up a little straighter, putting your phone into your front pocket before taking the wine glass from him. "Sorry, I was just..."

"No need," he said, waving you off. "I don't need an explanation." He walked around the couch and sat down, nodding at you to join him.

You sighed, taking a sip of your wine before sitting down beside him, sinking back against the cushion. "So, Tito hasn't tried taking you to a strip club to help you out of your breakup funk?"

Mat laughed, his head leaning back against the cushion. "No, he hasn't," he took a sip of the wine, tilting his head to the side. "I don't think he'd leave if he did."

"He tried to offer to drop me off at that knockoff Magic Mike, two days ago." He looked at you like you had two heads, his mind spinning in circles at just how long Tito has been trying to get you out of his apartment. "It didn't work, it's not my scene."

"Male strippers?"

"Male strippers that aren't the cast of Magic Mike," you joked, laughing softly as you stared down into your wine. "I don't know, I just haven't really been in the mood to do anything besides go to class and sleep."

He wasn't sure how to reply. Even with Liana, he'd never really been that open with talking to her about his relationships or hers. That was a no-touch topic in their siblingship– only ever talking about it, just to say that they were seeing someone new. Never what happened during or after. Not to mention, he was supposed to be like you, heartbroken. He tried to copy your mannerisms– slumped into the couch, relaxed face– he even went as far as to try and tell himself to copy the tone in your voice.

But all he felt was guilt for playing into Tito's scheme and a genuine need to talk to you about what happened. He just didn't know how to go about it.

Your phone rang before he could ask you the dreaded 'how are you feeling' question, and you sighed, digging your phone out of your pocket and putting your wine glass down on the table. "What, Anthony?"

Mat held back his laughter as he took a sip of his wine. One thing was for sure, your attitude towards your brother hadn't changed from pre-breakup. He looked at you, your eyebrows knitted together as you brought your hand up to your forehead, rubbing it. "What do you mean? Is my stuff–" you sighed, closing your eyes. "No, you won't get electrocuted if you–"

He reached out, bumping his elbow against yours and raising an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

You looked at him, shaking your head as you pulled your phone away from your ear. "He forgot his wallet at home and went back to the apartment– I guess something leaked and my bathroom and room are flooded."

Mat had to act like he was surprised, but if anything he was pissed. This was the one scenario that they didn't agree on– simply because it wasn't fucking plausible. "Well have you talked to him? Maybe there's–"

Your head fell back against the cushion and you closed your eyes, sighing. "I didn't leave a faucet on, I didn't even go into my bathroom before we– can you stop interrupting me?"

He could hear Tito rambling on through the other side of the phone, no doubt barely giving you time to talk because he didn't want you to fill in the gaps of his fake story. "Well, where am I supposed to go?"

Mat chewed on his bottom lip, bringing the glass up to his lips as he knew this was when Tito was suggesting that you stay with him. He couldn't look at you because the guilt was taking over. He could tell you were stressed and obviously, Tito hadn't been exaggerating at just how bad you were after the breakup with Jeremy. And if he looked at you any longer, the guilt would swallow him up and he'd cave in and tell you everything.

"No, I'm not asking–" you sighed, taking a few deep breaths and exhaling before speaking again. "Because Anthony, it's rude! "

Mat felt like reaching over and grabbing your phone, ending the plan then and there. But again, he knew that the Beauvillier sibling dynamic was a lot different than any other one. Tito knew when to stop pushing, you were his sister after all. So, he sat next to you, sipping on his wine and waited for you to ask the question they'd been pushing you to do all along.

"Can you just...ask, please?" His eyes went wide the moment he heard the emotion in your whispered reply. "I can't just...move everything, I don't even have everything. It's all at Jer–" you stopped yourself, sitting up and hunching over, resting your head in your free hand. "And he said that's all that was available?"

He kept sneaking looks at you from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge whether or not the emotion in your voice was leading to tears. He brought his phone out of his jacket, opening to type a message to Tito.

"Fine, I'll...I'll just ask," he froze as you turned to him, holding your phone away from your ear. "Hey Mat?"

He placed his phone face down and away from your sight of vision you couldn't see that he was about to send a text to Tito. "Yeah?" Yikes, that wasn't casual enough. "What's up?" Better.

You were holding back tears and for the first time, he could see the dark circles beneath your eyes, still peaking out from whatever make-up you had put on that morning. Yeah, this plan wasn't good– this on was definitely a punch in the gut. "Do you think I could stay here? I don't have much and I–"

"Yeah, no," he cleared his throat. "No, I mean yeah...you can. I've got the guest bedroom."

You nodded, looking away from him and brought the phone back up to your ear. "There, happy?"

Oh, you have no idea how happy Tito was, was all that Mat could think as he brought his phone back out. "Can I at least come and get some stuff to– Yeah...okay. Yeah, see you."

You hung up the phone and your head fell back against the cushion, eyes closed. Mat looked at you, wondering whether or not he should dare to see if you were okay. He started to reach a hand out to nudge your arm when his phone vibrated.

Tito: IT WORKED! I'M FREE!

Tito: well...at least for the next week i am. i’ll need to figure out another excuse for the extra week i guess.

Mat: dude...i don't think this is a good idea. y/n's like...really emotional right now.

Tito: AND I'M GOING ON A TWO WEEK DRYSPELL.

Mat: okay, get laid tonight and let her come back.

Tito: nope. i'm using all seven days of this time and look on the bright side, now you'll get the guestroom done faster than you planned.

Mat: are you at least coming back with the pizza?

Tito: no, just her clothes. caroline is coming over in an hour.

He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head as he looked at you– still lying in the same position from when you hung up the phone.

Mat: dude, you so owe me one.

Tito: 👍🏻

Mat put his phone back into his jacket pocket and turned to you. He was sure that the movement on the couch would have been enough to get you to open your eyes– but you didn't budge. He reached out and nudged your arm and you opened your eyes and turned to look at him. "What do you think about Chinese?"

"Let me guess, he's not getting the pizza?" You asked, drained of any energy.

Mat bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. "No, he said they were packed," the lie was a lot better than telling her the truth. "If you're not feeling Chinese, we can go to Chipotle?"

"I don't know," you sighed, picking up the wine glass and taking a long sip. "Do you think we'd miss him?"

Not in a million years. Even if they did, he'd just drop the bag of belongings in front of Mat's door, no doubt.

"I'll buy you a large guac and a large queso," He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Free of charge."

"You had me at large guac." You looked at him and then back at your wine glass, downing the rest before placing it back onto the table and turning towards Mat. "Besides, he's the one who didn't bother to offer me the couch in the new 1 bedroom he'd be staying in until everything is fixed. He can wait a few extra minutes if we're not back in time."

Mat just nodded, standing up with you and playing into your mood. "Yeah, fuck that guy."

You laughed, and for the first time since he walked into yours and Tito’s apartment...he saw you smile. He felt proud of himself for being able to cheer you up in some way. And maybe, he thought, if Tito wasn't going to look out for you...he could.

It was only for seven days, how bad could it be?

#mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal writing #mathew barzal oneshot #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #new york islanders oneshot #new york islanders writing #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey writing #my writing

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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 5 years

Text

Mon Petit

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested: Yes - @sj-thefan

Tagging: @thisismysecrethappyplace @aw-hawkeye @caswinchester2000

Fandom: NHL

Relationship: Established; Mat Barzal x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: The Reader wakes up to Mat speaking French to their baby.

Word Count: 595

Warnings: None.

You were awoken from your sleep by noise and the gentle rubbing of your swollen stomach.

“Ta mère et moi sommes tellement heureux de te rencontrer.” You heard your boyfriend, Mat, say to your belly as he continued to lightly stroke your belly. (Your mom and I are so excited to meet you)

Mat loved to talk to the baby and he had recently gotten into the habit of speaking French to them as well. He was committed to the idea of his child being bilingual as well, which you supported.

“Tu vas être si petit et fragile, mais ne tu inquiétes pas, votre père vas tu protégera.” He continued to whispered and you kept your eyes closed and didn’t move. You wanted to keep hearing him talk to the baby. (You’re going to be so small and fragile, but don’t worry, your dad will protect you)

“Tu vas avoir beaucoup de gars là-bas pour toi protéger. Toute une équipe de hockey.” At his words, you couldn’t help but smile a little, but Mat didn’t notice since he was focused on your belly. (You’re going to have a lot of guys there to protect you. A whole hockey team)

“Je pense que tu vas être un joueur de hockey aussi, comme ton père, mais tu ne devais pas d'être un si tu ne veux pas être un.” Mat said with a smile, his voice getting a little louder and you could feel the baby start to move a little bit, you doubted that Mat could feel them move though. (I think you’ll be a hockey player too, like your dad, but you don’t have to be one if you don’t want to)

“J'espère que tu m'aimes bien, parce que je t'aime beaucoup, mon petit.” Mat said, pulling his hand away from your belly. (I hope you like me, because I love you a lot, little one)

Once Mat had pulled his hand away from your belly, your baby gave a hard kick followed by a slightly softer kick. You grabbed Mat’s hand and brought it to your belly, resting it over where you had just felt the kick.

Mat looked at your confused, “you’re aw—?”but his confused expression melted away to awe as he felt the light kick under his hand.

You smiled at him and he rolled over a little bit more so he could look at you better while he rubbed your belly.

“Keep talking, I think they like it.” You told him and he nodded.

“Bonjour, je suis ici, mon petit.” Mat whispered and felt another kick. He looked up at you with a big smile. (Hey, I’m here, little one)

“Do you think it’s my voice or the French?” He asked you and got another kick.

You laughed. “I think it’s just your voice.”

Mat nodded and kept talking to your belly. The baby continued to kick for a few minutes before they came to a stop.

“That’s incredible.” Mat whispered with a shake of his head, completely amazed at feeling the movement of his unborn child.

You giggled and nodded. “I know.”

Even though the kicks had stopped, he kept his hand on your belly and continued to rub it. “That’s amazing.” He said softly.

You nodded and covered his hand with your own. “Yeah it is.”

Mat smiled at you and he shifted his position so that he could press a kiss to your lips before pulling back. “I love you, Princess.”

You giggled and pressed a quick peck to his lips. “I love you, too, Mat.”

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nyisles · 4 years

Text

Magic in the Hamptons

Part Five

part one | part two | part three | part four

Player: Mathew Barzal

Words: 3k

Warnings: language

Notes: long long long long overdue, but i’m too critical of my writing which makes it so hard to write something i feel is good enough for y’all.. But please leave feedback. It makes writing all this feel worth it! also it’s hard to write angst???

As soon as your foot was set through the door of your apartment you peeled off the islanders t-shirt. It just made you feel dirty and used. You really wanted to be ok with this and not be upset, maybe you were overthinking your relationship/ friendship/ whatever-ship this was with Mat? Though replaying past events in your mind, you didn’t understand how he could’ve possibly thought inviting his ex-girlfriend to the game was a good idea and it did really seem like the two of you were going to be exclusive, it seemed like he was spending all his free time with you. You both were in contact every single day, how could he have possibly had time to do this to you? It honestly didn’t matter anymore. Changing into sweats, you washed your face trying to get rid of the redness from all the tears you’d let out on the ride home. You just needed to cool down and process things. Flicking on netflix, you settled on watching some John Mulaney special, you were on the market for a pick me up that actually made you laugh out loud.

Maybe ten minutes into the special you heard your apartment door buzz, you weren’t expecting any company and it was already past midnight and you didn’t order any take out. Going up to your buzzer, you pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Hello?” you questioned, pressing the listen button to hear the mystery guest had to say. “I just want to talk.” Your heart dropped into your stomach hearing the male voice. “So talk.” You said to Mat. There weren’t any voices he could’ve been confused with. You just wanted to know why he was here and not with Whitney, or more importantly at his own apartment. “Face to face, (Y/N).”

Letting out a sigh, you had no idea why, but you pressed the unlock button letting him into your building. Realizing you had a minute or two to yourself before he was able to climb up the stairs in your walk-up, you headed into the kitchen taking out a wine glass and filling it up to the brim. Taking a huge gulp before the knock on the door interrupted you. Behind the door was Mat looking awfully disheveled. His gameday suit was now missing the blazer, and what was formerly a crisp white button down was now a wrinkly wine stained mess. At least you both were on the same page about having a tall glass of wine before you spoke. “So can I come in or are you going to make me stand here?” He said plainly. No smile, no anger in his voice either, his eyes did look tired, but to be fair the boy had just played a professional hockey game. He seemed completely indifferent to the situation. No words exited your mouth, you just stepped to the side opening the door a bit wider so he could make his way into your apartment. Normally he makes himself comfortable on the couch in your living room but he just paced around a little unsure of where to go. Looking at your kitchen counter he let out an uncomfortable laugh seeing the wine, “Looks like we both had the same idea...” he trailed off scratching the back of his neck.

“Cut the bullshit.” was the first thing that came out of your mouth. It was so honest that it almost took you by surprise. If Mat being here brought anything good into your life, at least it was a little bit of a backbone. “What are you doing here? You don’t understand what ‘leave me alone’ means?” You said moving into the kitchen, leaving him to follow behind you.

Looking back you saw his jaw clench, “If I recall your text it was ‘don’t contact me’ which can be interpreted a little differently.” Mat said starting to get a bit angrier in his tone, probably because of the way you were acting, but he deserved it. He really made you look stupid in front of a large group of people you were still getting to know, most of your interactions were while you were intoxicated. Mat had to realize you were in a vulnerable state, he had brought you into his world, and then he did that. “And by the way, have you ever thought about how you embarrassed me?” You were mid-sip of your wine when you choked a little bit, not believing one word of what he was saying. You embarrassing him? All it took was that one little sentence to completely get you in your head. You understood you didn’t quite fit the bill of what a WAG looked like or acted like or how they always came through to games in head to toe designer. Or maybe you embarrassed him in the way you were acting - as if the two of you were a couple? You were unsure, but it quickly made your eyes burn, feeling another round of tears just ready to go. “If you felt that way you should’ve just let me stay home.”

“If I had known that you would just walk out on me, I probably would’ve.” it’s when he said that the tears started to roll down your face. His face didn’t even show any sort of remorse when he recognized what he said struck a nerve. This wasn’t the Mat you knew. That Mat you’d grown to like so much was much softer, he’d make you laugh at any opportunity and contrary to what he’d let his friends know, he was sensitive. You’d seen him tear up during the episode of the office when Jim and Pam got married. “So you’ve come over here to make me feel worse?” You said quietly not feeling as strong as you had in the beginning of the conversation. “You can leave now, you win. You’ve made me cry… a second time in 24 hours, okay?”

“I just want to have one honest conversation with you.” Mat said, grabbing the wine glass of your hand and putting it down on the counter looking directly into your eyes. It was the first time his hazel eyes had pierced your soul in a way that made you uncomfortable. This was the first time his gaze made you feel like you weren’t in your own home, but some strange alternate universe. “I’m fucking mad, you know why? I invited this girl, who I thought was cool to come hang out with my friends and I on an important night for me to then make me look like a fucking criminal after.”

You let out this startled laugh, “Which girl are you referring to? Me or your ex? Because I don’t remember thinking that I was going to be part of some bachelor episode fighting for your attention. Stupidly enough, I thought things between us were going to turn into something.”

“Yeah, well you sure as hell fooled me too.” Mat spat out.

“You realize how fucked up in the head you are for inviting two girls to the game, don’t you?” you said, raising your voice, wiping away some of the tears, now letting your sadness turn into anger. You were flopping back and forth between emotions and it was exhausting. “Am I some sort of joke to you? Just a friend who you kiss when your girlfriend is out of town.”

“Fuck this, I’m going home. Keep feeling bad for yourself, (Y/N). It’s pathetic.” was all that Mat could say as he looked around at everything in your kitchen except for you. “You won’t even let me talk” He said while you let out another laugh, this time exaggerated and loud and full of disdain, you picked up your wine glass taking another large sip, finishing off whatever was left in the glass. “You should be with the girl you flew in from out of town, Matty. She was so thrilled you left her ticket that I’m surprised she let you get away.” you said, doing your best to imitate her voice when you said his name, it still rang so clearly in your head. You could only imagine Whitney being in the passenger seat of his car right now, waiting for this conversation to be over so the two of them could go out on some fancy date at a fancy restaurant where he’d take someone who wasn’t so embarrassing. Maybe that’s why most of your dates had just been at each other's apartments.

“If you really think that I did that to you then you’re right. I have no purpose in coming here. You don’t know me at all.” Mat said, he made his way back to the front door of your apartment seeing his clothes in a messy pile. You could see him roll his eyes giving them a kick further in the corner, “You should wash them before finding a way to give them back to me.” and with that he left, slamming the door behind him.

- - -

You hadn’t spoken to Mat for a week, and in hockey season that might as well have counted for a whole month between the home games, away games and travel time. To be fair you hadn’t planned on speaking to him anytime soon, you did though have your friends keep tabs on Whitney, who they reported was on a flight home the morning after the game. What you did know was that the Isles had been on a bit of a losing streak, and it didn’t even bring you the joy you thought it might knowing Mat would be pissed off. You did get a sweet text from Grace inviting you out to lunch though you politely declined saying you were feeling a bit overwhelmed from a busy work week. What you didn’t expect was another buzz at your apartment door. “It’s Meg…” “And Grace.” “And Syd.” You heard the three separate voices, which honestly made you a little bit uncomfortable. You could pretend you weren’t home, or you could tell them you were feeling sick, but both options just felt wrong to a group of girls who’d done nothing but try to make you feel welcome into their group. It was practically an obligation not to leave three pregnant women standing in the chilly october air, so you buzzed them in.

“We come with gifts” Megan said when you popped your door open seeing them with brown take away bags from your favorite sushi place. It was all so odd to you knowing that these girls had taken you in a little too prematurely, because surely you were finished with Mat. He had made that very clear the night he left your apartment. He didn’t want much to do with you, and there wasn’t much you wanted to do with him. He’d played you since you’d first met him at Sydney’s wedding. The first strike was him not texting you for weeks, the second being the time Tito interrupted your date to talk about Whitney, the third being the home opener. You had no more chances left to give. Weren’t the early stages of talking to someone supposed to be fun and easy? You’d had the same amount of fun times and dates as fights which was ridiculous. You weren’t made to be some athlete’s girlfriend and Mat had kindly reminded you that during your fight when he called you embarrassing. When you recounted the events to your friends you left that part out, you didn’t want to even bring it up, it just hurt too much. There were a lot of slight digs that you didn’t want to bring up because they hit differently.

“If i’d known you girls were going to force lunch upon me I would’ve met you at the restaurant instead of making you all walk up four flights of steps.” speaking softly you invited them in to put the bags down on the coffee table in the living room figuring you all could eat there. “Well we have a lot of catching up to do, so this works.” Sydney said bringing in more bags of food, placing them on the table, as Grace held up a bouquet of flowers. “From Mat” she said softly. You gulped, taking them from her, putting them on a side table plucking out the note. “I guess we all have a lot of catching up to do.” you muttered opening up the card beginning to read it aloud. “These don’t even cover half of how sorry I am. I’m -” you stopped reading aloud and silently instead.

‘These don’t even cover half of how sorry I am. I wasn’t honest with you and I'm miserable thinking of everything I said. I wish I could re-do that conversation at your apartment. Sounds stupid, but it’s even stupider making some florist write out this card. Please call me. - MB.’

“He’s right, he really is miserable.” Meg said, as you looked up at her, Grace shot her a glare. “Megan… we didn’t read the card.” You couldn’t help but to smile, it felt better having them here as opposed to your other girlfriends. Your girlfriends didn’t quite get it, and they didn’t know Mat. They didn’t understand how in such a short time you had become so connected to Mat and how that was ripped away from you in minutes and a fight that was so meaningless and led to no real resolution.

“Well the flowers are lovely, but I don’t think I want to call anyone.”

“Just think about it. We can all agree Mat wasn’t himself, it’s fucked.” Grace said, “Now let’s just eat, I’m tired from all those steps. I gotta refuel.” The girls managed to spend the rest of the lunch not pestering you so much, just discussing upcoming halloween plans, babies, and how to get you to go to lunch with them more often. It was refreshing and honestly quite nice.

- - -

It's been another week, and another month in hockey time. Ever since the girls had come to your apartment with their ulterior motives of getting you to talk to Mat, he had stepped his game up. The poor boy had tried to call your cell phone at least five times within the past two days. He managed to sprinkle in some creative ‘miss you’ texts without being so blatantly obvious. Didn’t matter though, as fate would have it you’d find him in a place you least expected it. Right in the middle of a grocery store, with Tito. The two of them laughing in the baking aisle as you watched Tito try to decide between two different boxes of cake mix. You wanted to turn around and run. Leave the cart full of groceries but you’d accidentally bumped into someone else’s cart trying to make the u-turn out of the aisle. “Shit” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact even though you felt their gaze burning into the side of your face. Hearing footsteps behind you and his voice calling out your name you politely turned around. You needed more self restraint. You watched him pick up his pace stepping in front of your cart, gripping onto it so you couldn’t roll it away. “I’ve been calling you. Texting too...”

“I don’t really have much to say.” speaking softly staring down at his beat up stan smiths that used to sit at your front entrance because he insisted that his mom raised him properly and he wouldn’t track his mud around your apartment. Slowly raising your gaze you noticed how different he looked since the last time you’d spoken. He just looked exhausted, the dark circles around his eyes a little bit more prominent. You’d recognized that the team was moving into a more game heavy part of their schedule so you tried to excuse it as that, and not the fact he was sending you late night texts trying to fix something that seemed too broken to repair. “I just… don’t have anything to say to someone that thinks so poorly of me.”

“(Y/N)” he said, taking in a deep breath, you couldn’t tell where he was going with this, and you knew he didn’t even know where he was going to go with this. He’d already groveled through the card and voicemails. “You know that’s not true at all. I have no problem making a scene in this store if it gets you to let me talk to you for just ten minutes to explain.”

“You might embarrass me in the way I embarrassed you.” was all you could say. God, his insults still stung and bringing them up again as you stood in front of him only made your eyes start to well up again. Embarrassing and feeling sorry for yourself, just as he had originally thought. Moving closer to you, he placed his hand gently on your upper arm that was still holding onto the cart. You wanted so badly to pull away, but he felt comforting. Normally with other guys you never had such trouble blowing them off, but everything about being with Mat felt different and maybe that’s why it hurt so much to be betrayed by him. “I think… no, I know my worst trait is speaking out of my ass. Now when can we talk, maybe privately? You deserve a hell of a lot more answers than I was able to give you before.”

You shook your head looking anywhere other than his eyes that were dead set on you. Biting your lip you just shrugged, “Your place? I do have some shirts to return.” He nodded finally getting what he wanted. Pulling you close by the arm he was holding onto he kissed the top of your head. It wasn’t meant to be flirty, just something he’d done to try and comfort you. You were bothered by how the affection didn’t bother you, it didn’t make you feel any better about your situation, but you also didn’t want to claw his eyes out. “I’m leaving for some away games tomorrow, but I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be around.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey imainge #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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hockeysrus · 5 years

Note

Smutty morning with Mat Barzal???

♛ Good Morning, Sunshine ♛

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Mat left you at a loss for words sometimes.

The way he looked, the way he played, the way he could always tell what you were thinking. It left you breathless.

Then there was his tongue, out of all the parts of his body that people always drew attention to, your favourite was his tongue.

The way it slide up your neck, how it felt in your mouth. The way he’d stick it out when he was being flirty with you.

It was a sleepy Sunday morning, no training, no games, just relaxing. Mat said that night that he had to go to the gym, but this morning he was a little slow to get to it.

You were woken up to the feeling of his lips on your neck, you felt his hand trace along your abdomen.

“Matty.” You said sleepily.

“Sh, sh, let me take care of you.”

You sighed, “You’re gonna kill me Barzal.”

“It’s a way to go out.” He growled a little. He started to kiss at your thighs, he sighed against your warm skin, “And way to start the morning.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, feeling the thick strands between your fingers, “Still going to kill me.”

He licked up to your hip, “Oh well.” His voice was dreamy and laced with lust.

“You didn’t even say good morning to me.” You remarked.

He gazed up at you, bright smile on his face with a glint in his eye, “Good morning, sunshine.” Before he started to go down on you.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal #hockey oneshot #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl oneshot

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hockey-yesplease · 6 years

Text

Young Marriage

Player Mat Barzal (mentions Anthony Beauvillier and Jorban Eberle)

Requested? Yes

Warnings: body insecurities, swearing, cheating, steamy,

Word count: 1800

Gif from Tenor

People always tell you that 21 is too young to be married, but you and Mat had been married for about a year now. Everything was going great until a few weeks ago. You knew that being married to a NHL player would not be easy, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It's the offseason and you were so excited to be able to spend more time with Mat, but it seemed like he was never home, he was either working out, doing promo shoots, or doing somethings with a few of the guys that were still in town. You don’t mind him doing these things of course, you aren’t this crazy wife that only wants him to yourself, but a simple text message letting you know he wasn’t going to be home for dinner would be nice.

That’s how you got here, making dinner; there was enough for two since you assumed Mat would be home to eat. You had his plate made and sitting at his spot at the table and your’s was at your spot next to his. After waiting an hour and a half, you decided to just go ahead and warm yours up and eat. After placing Mat’s in a container and placing it in the fridge, you warmed up your food and ate. This was at 9 o’clock at night. You checked your phone for any messages or calls you might have missed, there was none, but you did have a notification from instagram. You open your phone and go to the app, and what you saw broke your heart. A girl, one who was actually nice and happy for you and Mat unlike many others, that followed you, had Dm’ed you a picture and said, “I know you don’t know me personally, but im at the same club at Mat rn and thought you needed to know.” You click on the picture to make it bigger just to see your husband with a girl in his lap and her lips on his neck. And a smile on his face that you haven’t seen in weeks.

Growing up you had a terrible temper and it still takes all your power to control it, so you decide to be passive aggressive. You grab your HP Sprocket and print the picture the girl sent you and set it on top of the container of his food that you placed in the fridge. You felt numb, you thought everything was going well. That he was just busy with his normal offseason schedule. Well, he was busy, but you weren’t sure what from now, actual work things or other women. You can’t help but pull up the picture again and compare yourself to her. You realized that your not a skinny as her, but you weren’t overweight either. You’re an athlete, you had played volleyball your whole life and still play it at NYU where you go to school full-time so you were thick but it was muscle and toned. You have wavy brown hair, she had pin straight blonde hair. You are 5 feet 9 inches tall and she might be 5 feet 2 inches tall. You have always wondered why Mat chose you, you never saw it. But he loved you enough to marry you. You can’t help to wonder what you had done wrong. You took all online classes for the summer that way you could spend as much time with him as possible this off season.

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been sitting on the couch thinking until you hear the door to y’all’s apartment open and close. Mat walked over to you and leaned down to give you a kiss but stopped, “What’s wrong babes?” Deciding to still be passive aggressive and not having noticed that you had been crying, “Nothing Maty, just stressed with a couple assignment for my online class. Your dinner is in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Mat placed a quick kiss to your lips, “Thanks babes. I’ll warm it up after I shower.” You hum your response. “Okay, really what’s wrong Y/N?” You decide to just tell him part of whats wrong,

“I miss you Mat, the only time we see each other anymore is first thing in the morning before you leave for the day. We haven’t had a meal together in months. I took these classes online that way we could spend time together, since we don’t get much time during the season.” Mat looked at you, “I’m sorry I actually have a job to do to pay our bills Y/N!” Mat yelled at you. You looked at him in shock, all during your relationship, he has never raised his voice toward you. And he has never made a comment about money, he always had that he wanted you to be able to focus on school and volleyball. That is why he convinced you to quit the small job you had in the first place. You slowly get up off the couch and make your way to the balcony of your apartment knowing that your anger was boiling over right now and didn’t want to say anything you’d regret. Mat doesn’t follow you, instead he makes his way to the bathroom that is in the master bedroom. As you sit, the anger starts to wash away, but is replaced by sadness. Completely heartbroken, you start to sob. Uncontrollable sobs leaving your body surprised even you. You hear the front door open and closed again and assume he left, so you don’t bother getting up and going inside, but then the sliding door that leads to the balcony where you are sitting opened and Tito’s smiling face appeared but vanished quickly once he saw you. Your brother has always been there for you no matter what. He is your twin after all. “Y/N/N, whats wrong? Wheres Barz?” “Teets, I think he’s been cheating on me,” you say as another sob leaves your mouth. He makes his way to pull you into his brotherly embrace,“What makes you think that?” You explain everything to him, and even show him the picture. “I’m gonna kill him.” “No, Teets, he doesn’t even know that I have this picture yet. I printed it out and put it on his container of food in the fridge.”

You two hear Mat, “Hey man, what are you doing here?” Anthony turns to look at him, “Just needed to talk to Y/N/N about our mom’s birthday gift. I gotta go now though. I’ll see you later man.” You’re glad he made it seem like nothing was wrong. As he left, you closed the sliding door again, and Mat made his way to the kitchen. You know it was a matter of seconds before he saw the picture.

You begin sobbing again, not understanding what you did wrong. You had been sobbing so hard, it begins to make you gag, so you run to the bathroom and vomit. After you are done and you brush your teeth, you walk out of the bathroom and see Mat sitting on the bed looking at the photo. You can’t tell what he’s feeling until he looks at you standing up, “WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE?!” Still heartbroken you yell back for the first time in the relationship, “HOW ELSE COULD I GO ABOUT THIS MATHEW!? I FIND OUT YOU’RE CHEATING ON ME FROM ONE OF MY FOLLOWERS ON INSTAGRAM! YOU’RE NEVER HOME AND WE NEVER TALK SO I BROUGHT IT UP THE ONLY WAY I KNEW YOU’D SEE IT!” Mat sat back down on the bed, “I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.” “YOU’RE SORRY?! THAT’S ALL YOU CAN SAY?!” You begin sobbing again. He looks at you “I wasn’t cheating on you babe, I swear. She threw herself onto my lap and started kissing my neck. I was trying to nicely get her off. Right after this happened I pushed her off of me.” “You sure seemed to be enjoying it, Mathew.” “No Y/N this was right when she there herself onto me, I was laughing at something one of the guys said. You can call Ebs and ask him what went down.” You could tell by his voice and look that he was sincere, but you still called Ebs and he explained everything to you.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re gone so much Mathew. Off season is your break, there’s no way you’re working out that much or have that many promos to do.” He signed, “You’re right, babe. I’m so sorry I’ve been a terrible husband and so distant lately. But being distant was the only way to not tell you what I was doing for you.” He get up and walked over to his dresser and opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. “I’ve been planning a trip for us and working with an agent to make sure I can do everything that you want. I was going to give it to you this weekend for our anniversary, but you deserve it right now. I’ve been a major ass lately and didn’t even realize the effect it had on you. I’m so sorry baby, please please forgive me.” You take the folder that he is handing you and open it. It is a whole 3 week backpack through Europe all planned out. “I know this is something you’ve wanted to do ever since you were little and I wanted to do it for you since you put up with me. You support me when no one else does. You believe in me when I can’t even believe in myself. You sacrifice so much for me. And you do all this while being a sexy, beautiful, smart, athletic, endearing wife. I want to do so much more for you because you deserve it, but I knew you’d probably be aggravated at me with how much this is, so I decided to not plan the rest and just go with the flow.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You are an emotional wreck right now, completely speechless, you pull Mat into a passionate kiss. Soon you realize how much you need him and he realizes how much he needs you. He pulls you into a bruising kiss while walking you back to the bed until the back of your knees hit the bed, “Please let me show you how sorry I am and how much I love you baby.” You nod and he gently pushes you back onto the bed and crawls to hover over you.

This day had turned from terrible to simply amazing, and you knew the night was about to get even better.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #imagine #anthony beauvillier #jordan eberle #nhl hockey #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #nhl blurb

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jackhues · 11 months

Note

For the mat barzal angst… maybe a bad reaction to pregnancy or mention of marriage or something? I prefer a happy ending but feel free to cause pain

okok still going through a few of these angsty barzy requests, but this isn't like a full blown fic, it's a bit short sorry!

"what's gotten into you?"

there it was. the question you'd been dreading and trying to avoid for the past two weeks. but of course, mat was more attentive than he let others know, especially when it came to you.

if anything, he was surprised it took him this long to realize something was off with you.

the morning started off great for the first time since you closed yourself off from mat. you didn't feel the urge to empty your stomach in the toilet that morning when you woke, and mat was still sleeping soundly next to you - giving you a chance to admire him without him noticing.

or so you thought.

"you look like a creep," he muttered, eyes still shut.

you froze, some part of your brain registering this was one of the first times you two were speaking properly in weeks.

"are you saying i'm not allowed to admire my boyfriend?" you leaned on your elbow, reaching out to trace your finger against mat's body with a featherlight touch.

"absolutely not," he denied, eyes still shut. "just saying you look like a creep when you do it while he's sleeping."

"yeah, but he's not sleeping, is he?" you grinned.

mat's eyes fluttered open, a lazy smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

"hi," you whispered.

"hey."

the two of you lay together for a minute, soaking in the other's presence. it wasn't until he finally had a moment alone with you that mat realized there was something wrong.

"what's gotten into you?" he asked. "for the past few weeks, you've been so closed off. what's wrong?"

you stared at him, unsure of how to break the news - if you should even break the news.

"y/n?" mat tried.

"i'm pregnant," you whispered, your eyes falling shut.

you didn't want to see mat's reaction, the disappointment or anger he would feel at your news. you were already feeling emotional, seeing his reaction would break you.

you kept your eyes shut as the bed creaked and the door shut, signaling that mat had left the room. his footsteps thundered down the hall, followed by the front door slamming behind him.

it was only then you let yourself cry.

part two?? 👀

#naqia writes!#mathew barzal #mathew barzal blurb #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagines #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal blurbs #mathew barzal one shot #mathew barzal oneshots #mathew barzal oneshot #hockey #new york islanders imagines #new york islanders x reader #new york isles

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

He’s An Idiot - Mat Barzal x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing (?), angst, anxiety/panic

Words: 2063

Summary: When Mat unceremoniously reveals he’s had a girlfriend for two months without telling you, something goes terribly wrong as you turn toward a good friend for comfort.

A/n: Hi. this is old. and self indulgent. and garbage. Please enjoy!

How I ended up in the passenger’s seat of Tito’s car in an almost completely empty parking garage, is a story that will be a lot funnier in retrospect than in the moment.

Tonight the Isles were playing the Flyers, an ‘easy win’ according to Mat, and it was to a certain degree. The score finished 3-2 Isles and in a celebratory haze I barrelled through the Coliseum to greet my best friend. I congratulated the baby Isles and their elders alike as they came out to greet their respective parties.

The younger guys had an assortment of friends to meet them; the older guys were met with bright smiles from their wives and children. Mat, Tito, and I were kind of in that middle range where you’re no longer living the bachelor life and trying to pursue serious relationships, but not quite entering the engagement process either. The arrival of the younger Isles ushered them into the middle category, and the prospect of Mat looking into something serious excited me to say the least.

I’m fully head over heels for my best friend. And that’s why it hurt so bad tonight when he didn’t even spare me a single glance as he was rushing over to bear hug this girl who I was surprised to find out wasn’t a supermodel. She was absolutely gorgeous by all conventional beauty standards. Hell, I’d pick her too.

As he effortlessly lifted her from the ground to spin around in excitement, I figured maybe they’re just super close friends. Mat and I are as close as close gets, and he’s done that to me a fair amount of times. ‘It’s no big deal’ is what I told myself. That is, until I watched him lean down to passionately kiss this girl on the lips. My heart sinks to the deepest pit of my stomach; it feels like a javelin has landed right in the center of my chest. Mat and I tell each other everything, how come I didn’t have the slightest clue that this girl existed until right this very moment?

I must’ve not been hiding my heartbreak well, as Tito approached me like I was a wild horse that’s easily spooked. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder blade, careful not to scare me, but I jumped anyway. I was hoping he wouldn’t realize what was going on, but the sympathetic look in his eyes told me that there was no use in trying to deny it.

“You guys played a great game tonight.” My head whipped around to find that it’s Mat’s girl who’s complimenting Tito, and my sadness slowly became something resembling panic. Mat smiled dumbly at the beautiful girl and I surprised myself with my ability to speak without letting my voice crack.

“Who’s this?” I asked and Mat looked at me in amusement and confusion before his face dropped slightly.

“Did I not tell you about Caitlyn?” Caitlyn. “I could’ve sworn I did.”

“Um, no. You didn’t,” I laughed awkwardly. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“Oh, well, this is my girlfriend. Y/n, Caitlyn. Caitlyn, Y/n.” Girlfriend.

“I’m Caitlyn.”

“Y/n.” She giggled adorably at our additions to the redundancy.

“Girlfriend?” Tito asked, but not nearly as surprised as I was.

“Yeah, we decided to make it official on our one month anniversary.” Anniversary.

“You’ve been together for a month?”

“Two, actually.” Two?! I decided I deperately wanted to get the fuck out of dodge, and made an effort to try and draw the conversation to a close.

“We should probably get going since I gotta get home to feed Luna. It was nice meeting you, Caitlyn.” I was ready to go and ushering Mat to do the same, but he just looked at me in mild shock.

“Oh, fuck, I completely forgot I was giving you a ride.”

“Oh.” Ouch.

“Beau, can you take Y/n home? Caitie and I were gonna go back to my place.” Tito gave Mat a look that, had I been in my right state of mind, I could’ve figured out; he agreed nonetheless. At that, Mat and Caitlyn went to leave; Caitlyn called out a polite ‘nice to meet you’ behind her as they left.

He didn’t even turn around to say goodbye.

I felt like there was a holed burned into the center of my chest by radioactive acid. Tito noticed my state of shock and sympathetically took my hand to lead me out of the rink.

My trance wasn’t broken until we had reached Tito’s car; it wasn’t until Beau uttered a soft “hey, hey woah” and pulled me in for a hug that I even noticed I was crying. It wasn’t a sob, or even a weep. Just a numb, empty stare and a stream of tears rolling down the expanse of my cheeks.

“I didn’t even know she existed until tonight, and they’ve been dating for two months?”

“I knew he was talking to someone but, because I thought you already knew, I didn’t bring it up because I didn’t want you to feel bad. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I pondered the offer for a moment before nodding a heartfelt ‘yes’. Beau opened the door for me to climb into the passenger seat and instead of turning on the car and driving away, we sat there for ‘as long as I needed’ as Beau put it.

So that’s how I ended up in the passenger’s seat of Tito’s car in an almost completely empty parking garage.

We’ve been sitting here for a solid hour, just the two of us, although it’s mostly just me talking and Beau doing anything he can to comfort me. He’s known about my thing for Mat for a little while now, and though we’re not as close and Mat and I are, after tonight’s incident, I’d say we’re on the way to becoming really good friends. If not, that’d be awkward since I’ve spent the last 30 minutes crying off my mascara onto his game-day dress shirt.

“I just feel like such an idiot for falling for him. And now he loves someone else and I have no other option but to find a way to live with that if I still want to have some kind of relationship with him.” I’m fiddling with my phone to distract myself from crying. It’s somewhat working, but every now and then I feel more and more of my guard crumble. I open my messages to my conversation with Mat before the game, and reread the very clear ‘you’re taking me home after the game right?’ and ‘ya just get an Uber and then I’ll drive you back’. He probably said the exact same thing to Caitlyn after, forgetting about me in the process.

“You’re not an idiot. If anything, he’s an idiot for not seeing the beautiful girl right in front of him.”

“...It just-” my voice cracks as a fresh wave of tears blur my vision “It just really fucking sucks that I have to accept that I’ll never be good enough for him. Like, I feel a certain way with him that I don’t feel with anyone else. I think I’m in love with him, Beau. And now that he has a girlfriend there’s no chance in hell I could ever tell him that.”

Swoosh

Confused by the sound effect of my phone that had the volume cranked up in the arena, I look down at the illuminated screen and feel that familiar burning in my chest.

“No. No no no no no, NO!” I sit upright in my seat and immediately begin typing, the keyboard click sound effects rapidly firing beneath my fingertips. After a very clear DO NOT PLAY THAT text, I hit play on the audio recording I’d just sent to Mathew.

‘-sucks that I have to accept that I’ll never be good enough for him. Like, I feel a certain way with him that I don’t feel with anyone else. I think I’m in love with him, Beau. And now that he has a girlfriend there’s n-’

Is the only sound that fills the dormant vehicle. Beau looks just as horrified as I feel, and I begin hyperventilating.

Please Mathew I am begging you do not listen to that audio

Please don’t play that audio

I know Mat, and I know that no amount of pleading texts will stop him from listening to that audio. If anything, my stark reaction might encourage him to listen to it. When I look up and meet Beau’s eyes, I immediately start bawling, wailing as if I’d just watched my cat Luna get bulldozed in the street. That’s it. It’s over. As soon as he hears that message, he’s going to distance himself from me and then he’ll be gone for good.

“He’s gonna listen to it- he’s gonna listen to that an-” I choke on my words as my own sobs suffocate me and Tito simply holds me as tight as he can without hurting me. He keeps my head pressed tightly against his chest, cradling my face as we both suspend our disbelief of the inevitable. My thoughts continue to spiral and I can physically feel all of my anxiety congregating at the forefront of my mind.

“I’m such a fuck up, Beau. I don’t know what to do.”

“You��re not a fuck up.” I’m surprised he could understand a word I’m saying based on how strangled my words are by my sobs. “Shhh. You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay. You know Barzy, he…” His trailing off in uncertainty is the straw that breaks my back and I feel the world around me collapse. I can’t ever face him again.

“What am I going to do?”

“We’ll figure something out, okay?”

“He’s going to listen to it. I’ll never be able to face him again.”

__________________________

Rolando is here with your food, my phone pings.

Three days later and I’m laying in bed staring at the ceiling, numb, as tears slide down my temples.

He’s listened to it. I know he has. There’s no way in hell he hasn’t. Mathew Barzal is a nosy son of a bitch and I’d be a fool to think for one second that he wouldn’t listen to an audio message that was sent with a pleading ‘please don’t listen’ text attached. Truth be told I didn’t think he’d wait this long to form a reply.

I mean, how hard is it to send a quick ‘I’m sorry but I’m not in love with you and I’m in a serious committed relationship’ text?

The anxiety that’s been brewing inside me for the last few days has been more than enough to keep me from leaving the house. I’ve isolated myself in totality, only accepting the occasional FaceTime from Beau where he’d call just to ensure I was alive.

At this point, the exhaustion of laying around and doing nothing has consumed me beyond the ability of addressing my basic necessities. I’d neglected myself for a good chunk of these last few days; rather than letting myself continue to starve, I figured I’d order myself some pity sushi. Because a 3PM dinner is better than no dinner.

Mustering the strength to roll out of bed, I trudge my way through my pad to the front door. A brown paper bag of sushi and my favorite drink sits prettily on my doorstep, and I sigh at the realization that I finally have food.

I look up to find Rolando as he walks away to thank him for his service, but my throat closes at the sight of Mat being a mere ten feet away from my front door. He smiles at me with a soft smile that indicates no sign of having learned that I’m in love with him. It’s the same one he gave me when I invited him to my work one day and he got to see me in my element. It’s the same one he gave me when I picked him up from the airport for the very first time. And it’s the same one he gave Caitlyn when his two worlds collided as the two of us met.

“Hey, Mat.”

“Hey… Can we talk?”

***

A/n: I know this is low quality but I wanted to get something out before I start classes up really soon. hope yall like it

549 notes · View notes

delayed-affection · 1 year

Text

Hockey Oneshots

Navigation accepting requests

Carter Hart

House party

Mathew Barzal

Fresh cut

Trevor Zegras

Into the boards

Here with me

Jack Hughes

Be real

Yours is Mine

Luke Hughes

Captain

You’re Mine

Quinn Hughes

Quiet time

Ethan Edwards

Kiss me goodbye

Cole Caufield

Just friends

John Marino

Under the stars

Alex Turcotte

Secrets Out

Pyotr kochetkov

Unrequited Love

224 notes · View notes

matwith1t · 3 years

Text

A/N: We’ve got the works here… Thank you to the anon for the request! I can’t find it, otherwise I would link, but here we are!! If you’re not 18+, please head over to my masterlist and read something a bit more fluffy!! I’d love to hear all of your thoughts… words of affirmation is my love language 🔥 I hope wherever you find yourself in the world, that you’re having a good day/evening!!

Request: When you start to want more than your friends-with-benefits arrangement with Mat, he rejects your suggestion. But after a few months apart, and after you found someone else, Mat rethinks his feelings for you // Ex-FWB With a Fluff Ending

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

Warnings: Swearing, Smut // WC: 10K // Angst & Smut & Fluff

The two of you are not in love. At least not really.

He soothingly stroked your arm when you laid in bed together after a shared intimate moment. You threaded your fingers through his hair whenever he leaned his head on your shoulder. He calls you every Tuesday night because he knows that’s your busiest day of the week, and hearing his voice relaxes you. And you wear his last name on a hockey jersey because you know how much it excites him.

You keep his favorite snacks at your place. He keeps your favorite candle on his coffee table. You watch every hockey game. He respects your schedule. His laugh is your favorite sound. And your eyes are his favorite color.

But the two of you are not in love. At least…not really.

Sitting up against the headboard of your bed, you clutched the white linen sheets––that smelled like him––to your chest as you watched Mat tug his jeans over his legs. He bent down to grab his shirt that was thrown on the floor and easily slipped it over his head; as you savored the last seconds of seeing his bare chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the bedroom floor to make sure he had everything. But even if he forgot something, you knew––just as well as he did––that he would be back.

Mat’s chuckle brought you out of your thoughts, “Don’t give me that look.”

The light-hearted chuckle you let out was exactly the opposite of how you felt on the inside as you watched him get ready to leave you. A sharp pang of heartache ripped through your chest as you rolled your eyes, “I’m just waiting until I have the place to myself.”

Mat paused his movements of fixing the chains around his neck to fit under his shirt to look up at you. The corners of his lips curved up in a smirk, “Excited to be alone?”

“It’ll be quiet.”

He let out a quiet hmpf as he took two steps forward to the foot of your bed where his shoes were. He bent down, out of sight, as he tied the laces together before popping up in a matter of seconds. With the way he looked around your room again; it was easy to convince yourself that maybe he was purposefully stalling. Maybe he wanted to stay with you just as much you wanted him.

You watched his movements carefully as he rounded your bed; thinking he was heading toward the door, you felt the tug of your heart follow him. But he stopped to stand next to you, head tilted as he looked down at you.

You pressed yourself further back against the headboard and held your breath.

He bent down, palms pressed flat on either side of you––trapping you under him like he had done just moments ago––and he leaned his face close to yours, “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes locked in on his, “Staying in bed all day.”

Mat raised his eyebrows as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours, “Alone?”

You gulped, “Alone.”

He let out another hmpf as he continued to stare at you. In such close proximity, you were able to see everything about him. You saw the little blemishes that dotted along his chin, dark creases under his eyes, and how there was a section of hair on his left eyebrow that stuck up, going the opposite direction of the shape. They were little imperfections, but they made your heart tighten in your chest when you thought about how you were the only person who was able to see him this close up.

At your answer, he smirked, “Think of me.”

Before you had any time to process as to why he said those words to you, he closed the barely there space between your faces, and met your lips in a slow, deep kiss. Your eyes closed. The familiar zip of ecstasy pumped through your veins whenever he kissed you, but right when your hand dropped the sheet that was covering up your chest to cup his cheek; Mat pulled away.

In one swift motion, he spun around on his heel as he left you to walk through the door.

Stunned at his abruptness of ending the kiss, you continued to stare at the door with your mouth hung open. And even after you heard the front door of your apartment close, signaling his final departure, you continued to stare at your bedroom door.

He was everything you’ve ever wanted. He was everything and more. And you couldn’t comprehend how effortlessly he acted whenever he walked away from you. Because whenever you left him, it was a struggle. It always either felt like a battle in your head on whether you overstayed your time at his place or if he wanted you to lay next to him as he curled an arm tightly around your waist.

With each time you gave in to staying between the sheets longer with him, you felt a piece of your heart break even more. Because it only prolonged the eventual ending of moments you savored with him before one of you left.

Mat didn’t know that you did have plans for after he left. You needed to water the plants, grocery shop, meet a friend for lunch, and do a few loads of laundry to start the week off. But like him, most of those plans quickly went out the door.

Because with the way he left you––The way he always left you––you wanted more of him. So with your plans easily abandoned, you sunk down further under the sheets, head tilted back on the pillow with your eyes closed.

And as you laid in bed alone, just like he asked, you thought of him.

–––

You were woken up by a kiss on your neck.

The faint sound of a film on the television could be heard in the background, the smell of burnt bread––presumably from a failed attempt at Mat making toast––wafted through his apartment, and you felt a layer warmer than any blanket on top of you. You laid on your back, eyes peeking open to adjust to the light, and stared down at the person draped on top of you.

With a faint smile, you lifted a hand and fiddled with the ends of Mat’s hair on the back of his neck. You felt his chest expand against yours with an intake of air, and with eyes just like yours, barely open, he smiled up at you.

“We fell asleep.”

You let out a soft laugh and continued to play with the ends of his hair, “And then you woke me up.”

Mat rolled his eyes as he slightly lifted himself up from you, palms pressed down on the couch next to your head, “I woke up not even five minutes ago.”

Not believing him, you let out a hum, “Mhm,” and continued to let your fingertips softly touch his skin.

Because with the smell of burnt toast, you knew he had woken up more than five minutes ago, yet he still came back to wrap his arms around you on the couch.

You slowly moved your fingertips on the back of his neck in slow circles, and when you saw him close his eyes, you knew you were doing something right. And at a slow pace that was tortuous for you touching him, your fingers moved to the side of his throat, up his cheek as you traced the bridge of his nose, and then through his hair. You combed your fingers through the front of his hair, but like every time, his hair flopped back onto his forehead in place.

He opened his eyes and you smiled.

With your hand running slowly through his hair, your eyes admired his face as he loomed over you. And like your slow movements, he slowly lowered his head to press a soft kiss on the base of your throat. You barely felt his lips brush against your skin with how delicate the touch felt. He pulled his lips away, but kept his head tucked into the crook of your neck. You shuddered slightly as you took a deep breath; preparing yourself for disappointment to flood your body by the end of your stay.

But you pushed that familiar feeling aside.

Swallowing thickly, you let the hand that ran through his hair drop down to his shoulder as you pulled him closer to you. Chests pressed together, you felt as if you were to explode any moment. Hot hair fanned your neck as Mat breathed heavily against your skin, not pressing his lips onto you any further until he had your permission.

Unable to wait any longer, you tugged on the ends of his hair, turned your head to expose more of your neck, and shallowly breathed out your agreed upon word for consent.

“Please.”

That word was all Mat needed to hear before he pressed his lips back on the same spot of your neck. But this time you felt him; felt his lips nip at your skin repeatedly. And when he sucked on your skin just a little too hard, a whimper escaped your lips.

The sound was encouraging enough for him, but you still slid an arm around his neck to pull him closer. With legs intertwined on, you bent your knee against the back of the couch, resting your sole on the back of his calf.

Mat slowly worked his lips up your throat, “Are you cold?”

His whisper was louder than the uncleanly thoughts swirling in your head.

“No,” you gasped out with eyes closed.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, goosebumps forming everywhere on your body, as the places where he deposited open mouthed kisses on your skin scorched like a wildfire. And like how you previously touched his face ever so slowly, he trailed his hands along your sides at an even agonizingly slower pace.

His hands wandered, fingertips eliciting a slight shudder from you every single time they dug a little deeper into your skin.

“You’re shivering,” Mat mumbled before closing his lips just underneath your jaw.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt and he rested his palm flat on your hip. You thought best to leave his observation unanswered as the mixed feeling of his hands and lips on your skin produced another moan. Both of you were silent from then on; Mat kneading the skin on your hip as his light stubble scratched your neck as he continued his trail of kisses.

Mat had one hand trailing up and down your thigh, as his other creeped further up your shirt, massaging your breast over your bra. He pressed his lips to the spot where your jaw met under your ear, slowly working his way across your jawline.

“Mat,” you pleaded, voice hoarse.

He placed a feather of a kiss at the corner of your mouth. And when you slightly turned your head, eyes finally open, you saw him already staring at you. But you didn’t have enough time to admire his face as you’d like. Sooner than anticipated, you two met in a kiss, his lips instantly parting yours and his tongue begging for an entrance.

The eagerness of his kisses contrasted his slow and gentle touches on your skin. It threw you off for a moment, but Mat made a low, almost inaudible, sound in the back of his throat. His tongue met yours at the same time his hand squeezed your breast and you let your fingers dance across his back.

As your body heated up, so did the movements between the two of you.

The two of you parted for a moment to discard your shirts, Mat staring down at you intently. He looked troubled, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as his shoulders expanded in a deep breath. As you tried to catch your breath, you tilted your head to the side with a shy smile and tucked a section of his hair behind his ear.

Mat contradicted your gentle movement.

He brought a hand to his mouth, sliding his index finger and middle finger between his lips. Below him, you watched in fascination, both excited and terrified at the amount of disappointment already brewing in the pit of your stomach.

Mat brought his fingers out of his mouth, and in an act of arrogance, he raised his eyebrows and smirked. But before you could lean up and trap him in a kiss, his hand crept under the material of your underwear, wet fingers gliding over you, between your slit. On instinct, your eyes closed and your head fell back onto the pillow.

His fingers were languid at first, slow and steady as they became acquainted with the sensitive area. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and sucked in a deep breath. His movements were excruciatingly slow. Every time the pads of his fingers brushed your clit, your breath shortened, catching in your throat.

You gripped onto his shoulder for support, your hand moving to the back of his neck, urging him toward you. You held Mat close for a kiss and he instantly deepened it. He made the concentrated grunt in the back of his throat again as you felt his bulge against your thigh. The hand he had on your breast trailed down your chest, across your rib cage until he could hook an arm around your waist.

His arm tightened around you as he urged your thighs even further apart with his knee. His middle finger began to move in circles over your clit, gentle at first, then increasing in pressure. You sighed, grabbing onto his shoulder even tighter. When his speed increased, you couldn't fight the moan that escaped your lips, and you broke the kiss to bury your head in the crook of his neck.

His fingers worked harder. And you felt an euphoric sensation that sat low in your gut as it began to build and build until it overpowered disappointment. A feeling that enraptured you––A feeling you only wanted to share with Mat––spread to the tips of your toes.

You bucked your hips against Mat’s hand, letting out an uneven breath against his shoulder. He kept going, encouraging you to let it happen. And so you did. You allowed yourself to be consumed with the feeling of Mat.

Beneath him was the closest place you had found to a heaven on earth.

But when his movements slowed and his hand came out from your underwear, your high came crashing down. As if the previous experience of pleasure hadn’t just happened, you felt numb. The spark of euphoria you felt electorate your body was no more, and instead, you welcomed back disappointment.

This was your routine with him. The passive day spent at his place when neither of you had any other commitments started and ended the same way every time. Every time it started with excitement, curious as to what the day had in store. And then the excitement sparked into mutual desire for one another. And then, like every time, it ended with disillusionment.

“Stop,” you whispered.

Immediately, Mat removed his hands from you and sat up on the couch.

He sat on the other cushion from you, chest slightly heaving as he stared down at you in concern, “Are you okay?”

Still reeling in how your emotions went from one hundred to zero in a matter of seconds, you shook your head.

“You need to talk to me,” he looked panicked, and it bruised your heart even more, “Please.”

The breath you took in was audible, cutting through the tension, as you leaned over and picked up your shirt. Hastily, you covered yourself up and tucked yourself into the corner of the couch. With your knees bent, and arms curled around your legs, you stared at Mat who hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

At the sound of your voice, he looked calmer, but that didn’t do away with the anxiety in his eyes, “Do what?”

“This…Do what we’re doing,” you pinched the bridge of your nose as you saw the puzzle pieces of your words connecting in his mind, “Being whatever we are.” You felt your bottom lip tremble as the exhaustion from all of your rendezvouses with Mat caught up to you, “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Why?”

You could see it in his eyes that he knew why you were cutting off the arrangement. He was more intune with other people’s emotions than he led on, which made this confrontation even more gut wrenching. Because with your admission would come his answer.

He had seen you at your most vulnerable moments, comforted you in times of need, been the reason for your earth shattering blisses for a little over a year, and the two of you shared intimate moments together without either of you stripping off your clothes. And like how he knew what you were about to confide in him, you knew what his answer would be.

You never thought he would be this cruel and have you say what you wanted aloud.

“I want more than this,” your words were direct with your desire, but the undertone in your voice was unsteady, “The––The feeling I have with you can’t be compared to anyone else. I feel so happy with you and it––You make me feel like a better person.” You bit the inside of your cheek as he stared through you, “Can’t we be more than this?”

He blinked once. Looked down into his lap. Blinked again. Ran a hand through his hair. Blinked for a third time. And when he looked up at you, his eyes were still lifeless and dull.

“You know I can’t give you that.”

You knew what disappointment felt like. You felt it every time he kicked the covers off and got dressed to leave you. You felt it every time one of his friends made a passing comment after they won a hockey game about how Mat could paint the town red as you sat next to him. You had even felt it fifteen minutes ago, when Mat had you trembling underneath him.

Disappointment was synonymous with Mat. But that didn’t make the let down any easier.

You let out a shaky breath, tears stinging behind your eyes that threatened to fall at any moment. But he had seen too much of you that afternoon for you to dispense any more emotion in front of him.

With your eyes downcast on your twiddling thumbs in your lap, you let out an almost inaudible half whisper, “Why?”

Mat released the breath he was holding, and scanned your face that felt like it would crumble any moment, “I…” He ran a head through his hair, letting out a shaky breath, as he racked his mind for an excuse, “You know I can’t. There’s––I’m not around that often, I wouldn’t be able to––”

“But we spend time together,” you croaked out, “We spend so much time together.”

With Mat’s failed excuse, he was silent.

And as the two of you stared at each other in silence; Mat’s eyes emotionless and your vision blurred with tears…There was no battle in your head wondering if you’d overstayed your visit or Mat wanted you next to him.

A single tear rolled down your cheek, but you wiped it away fast with the palm of your hand. You sniffled back the rest of your tears, lungs burning as they barely expanded with your deep breath. His eyes followed your figure as you stood up from the couch, and the more you stared at him, the more you felt your heart slowly fall apart because there was no convincing yourself of anything with him anymore.

The silence hung thick in the air like the regret on both of your faces as you made your way to his door. The further you walked away from him, the further you could feel the strings of your heart that connected to him stretch. They were exceeding their limit, and with one foot out the door, you felt the harsh snap that finally disconnected your heart from Mat when he spoke up.

“Are we done?”

His voice carried softly over the silence, but it was the sharpest pain you felt.

With a jagged breath, you gave him an answer without turning around, “I want someone. Someone who can give me more than this.” And with your back to him, you let your tears silently fall as they pleased, but kept your voice just as soft as his, “And I wish it was you.”

Without waiting for a response you knew he wasn’t going to give, you left him the way he always left you; alone.

–––

You missed him.

You missed the way he made you feel.

You missed the way his head felt on your shoulder when you rode the subway together. You missed the way his voice reassured you after a long Tuesday. You missed the way your heart fluttered whenever you heard him laugh. But most of all, you missed the way he always encouraged you to be the best version of yourself.

You missed him.

So you called him.

Your call came at one in the afternoon on Sunday, two months since the last time you had spoken to each other, and he picked up. You didn’t say a hello. And you didn’t ask how he was. You only said that you wanted him to come over.

“I thought you said you wanted someone?” Mat’s voice ached through the phone as if he replayed the last moment he saw you in the doorway, “I thought you wanted something more.”

“I just want you,” you breathed out in response to him, “Please.”

And before you had any chance to retract your request from him, he rushed out that he was on his way over and hung up.

Pacing around in the kitchen, you tried not to think of the consequences that would follow this meetup. It had been so long since you had seen Mat, but the only thing you wanted was familiarity. And your intentions over the phone were as clear as Mat’s rejection of you two months ago.

A few hurried knocks on your door interrupted the concern floating in your head. With a deep breath, and a little anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach, you walked over to the door and opened it. The first thing you did was push away the feeling of disappointment in your gut and admired his face.

Unlike the slight stubble he had the last time you saw him, his face was clean shaved. He looked more youthful, but his eyes were tired and filled with longing. They were missing their usual gleam, but the longer his eyes stayed on you, you began to see the familiarity in them. And he was dressed rather nicely––a button up shirt, dress pants, and a belt––as if he had just came from an important brunch.

Whenever either of you showed up at the other’s place, both of you knew what the purpose of the visit was. But before hands wandered and eyes closed…You would always talk through a film together, travel on the subway for take out and a bottle of wine, or run menial errands together because Mat was always too lazy to do them himself. But with how you left him two months ago––confessing to wanting something more and he only wanting something physical––Neither of you knew how to approach the situation.

With a deep breath, you stepped back to let him into your apartment and closed the door. You made the call, so you made the first move.

You kept your eyes on your feet as you slowly took a step toward him. When the tips of your toes touched his shoes, you finally looked up at him. The two of you were so close together, but you had never felt further away from him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He whispered like a secret as if the two of you weren’t the only ones in your apartment.

You nodded your head, “Yes,” you gulped when you felt the tips of his fingers graze your palm, “One last time.” And when you finally looked into his eyes, they were dark with lust and despair, “Please.”

And with that word, Mat didn’t waste any time before he grabbed your hips, bringing you toward him in one swift tug, and crashed his lips onto yours. There wasn’t anything gentle about it––he knew what he wanted. But perhaps there were some unresolved feelings he hadn’t uncovered from your last conversation as his fingers softened against your skin.

Not expecting for Mat to be so determined with the first kiss, you let out a squeak of surprise. But he deepened the kiss and you melted into him with ease, molding your body around his as your arms locked around his neck. His tongue clashed with yours, hands gliding up your back until he was able to cup the back of your neck.

“Are you sure,” he murmured against your lips as both of you paused for a breath. He walked you backwards until you pressed up against the opposite wall, not too far from your bedroom, “That this will be the last time?”

You nodded fervently, sticking with your head as your heart fought to overpower your logic. He kissed you again as a strangled sigh escaped your lips, “Last time,” you whispered. Your eyes lowered away from his skeptical stare as you fiddled with the ends of his shirt.

Mat tilted your chin up with his index finger, trapping your lips as if he was trying to convince you that he didn’t want this to be the last time. He wrapped his right arm around your back and squeezed your right hip. He kissed you hard, eager to prove how much he wanted you.

Like every time he kissed you, you were left out of breath. And when you felt well and truly breathless, Mat trailed his lips across your cheek to your jaw, down your neck, and up to your ear, where he whispered words that caused your eyes to fly open.

“If it’s the last time, then let’s make sure you remember it.”

His words paired with his lips nipping on your neck, made you unable to form a coherent sentence. And you were sure he was able to feel the gulp you swallowed as you tilted your head to the side to give him more access.

Once his lips trailed up your neck, he was quick to collide his lips with yours, his body pressing flush against you as his hands trailed up and down your sides. You whimpered into his mouth, submitting all control to him.

“Bedroom,” you breathed against his lips.

At your request, Mat pressed two more kisses to your lips before he connected his hand with your to pull you into your room. He slammed the door closed, as if he wanted to keep the whole world out from prying on the way he would inevitably make you feel.

In a flurry, Mat unclasped his watch from his wrist and kicked off his shoes while you took off your socks. Neither one of your clothes were fully removed before he grabbed onto you again. You didn’t want to think how this would be the last time you were pressed up against him, and it seemed like he was eager to keep you from doing the same.

Mat had you against the wall, his hands massaging your breasts through your dress as you messed up his hair even more with your fingers. You whimpered into his mouth, which spurred him on, and he ground his hips roughly into yours, sending the familiar electric jolt of electricity through your bones to the tips of your toes.

He repeated the process while grazing his hands down your sides and grabbing a handful of your dress, tugging it up. But if this was going to be your last time together, you wanted him to remember it too. You were busy popping the buttons on his collared shirt, and unlatching his belt. The way you successfully undid his pants without looking, while nibbling on his lower lip, was a testament that you were sticking true to your word.

Mat thought you were done, so he moved his hands back up to your breasts, but you knocked his hands out of the way, gliding one hand down his exposed chest before boldly plunging your hand into his pants. Mat moaned against your lips, forcing your head to tilt back so that he could kiss you even harder.

Gently squeezing him outside his boxer-briefs, you noted that he was already growing in your hand. But you knew him well enough to know that he wanted to move things faster. So you slid your hand past the elastic waistband of his underwear and grabbed hold of him.

Mat broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips in concentration, and focused your eyes on Mat’s face as you gently grabbed him at the base. Instantly, his breathing shallowed. You trailed your thumb along his length to gauge his reaction before slowly sliding your hand up and then back down.

After a few swipes, Mat placed one hand beside your head, palm flat against the wall to support himself. In his other hand, he held a gathered handful of your dress, fingers digging into you hip to hold you steady. Feeling him respond underneath to your touch, you increased your pace. Mat’s eyes closed instinctively, gulping through parted lips as his breathing came in sharp uneven puffs.

“That good?” You asked, brushing your lips against his earlobe.

Mat grunted before responding, “Yeah.” His voice was thick and guttural, and you loved the way it reverberated in your ear, as if it was only meant for you, “Yeah––That’s good. More.”

His head dropped to your shoulder as you continued to pump him at a steady pace, and you marveled at the fact that he was completely at your mercy. But Mat wasn’t at your mercy for much longer. He managed to find the strength to pause his breathy curses to whisper in your ear, “I don’t know how much longer I can wait before I take you.”

You turned your head to meet his lips for a prolonged kiss. As soon as your hand was out of his underwear, and his pants were pooled around his feet, Mat spun you around to face the wall, as you heard the sound of your dress unzip all the way down. His fingers were anything but unhurried, but you still felt as if Mat was taking his time unzipping your dress as you felt his knuckles graze against your the ridges of your spine.

When he was successful in unzipping the dress, he slipped it off you in one fluid motion. But before you could turn around, his chest was flat against your back as his hand snaked around your hips and dipped into your underwear, discovering that you were just as ready for him as he was for you.

“God,” Mat moaned, dragging his lips along your shoulder to your neck as he slid a finger inside of you.

You tilted your head to give him more access, and the combination of your skin between his teeth and his finger curled inside you while his thumb stimulated your clit was too overwhelming. And as you felt yourself slightly shudder from the familiar sense of pleasure Mat gave you, he slid your underwear off your hips. He removed himself from your back as you stepped out of your underwear and Mat picked his jeans up from the floor and dug around the pocket for his wallet.

Frantically, he opened it in, and when he found the condom he looked for, he let everything drop to the floor.

He pulled you forward, hungrily kissing you before gripping the backs of your thighs, “Bed.”

With your arms around his neck, all you did was nod in agreement as you felt his hardness between you. He let his hands trail up from your thighs to your hips as he guided you to the few feet of room that separated the two of you from your bed. Once you felt the mattress hit the back of your calves, you unhooked one arm from Mat’s neck to brace yourself for the fall.

But Mat was faster. He hooked one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you ever so close to his chest as he slowly let you down on the mattress. And as you inched your way backwards, his hurried kisses slowed down the tiniest bit as if he wanted to prolong you beneath him for as long as possible. The two of you stayed like that for a bit, you underneath him as Mat cupped your cheek, savoring every kiss like it was his last.

But both of you unable to hold off on the reason why you called him over in the first place, the hand that cupped your cheek dropped and you heard the sound of the condom packaging tearing. With a breath, you opened your eyes right as he finished rolling on the condom.

“Ready?” he said huskily with his forehead pressed against yours.

You nodded, breath ragged as you felt him against your thigh, “Yes.”

With that, he guided himself inside of you, crawling up your torso as he pushed in inch by inch. Like every time you found yourself in this position, your eyes instinctively closed, your jaw dropped at the sensation of feeling this close with him, and you released a satisfied sigh.

You felt Mat’s breath on your cheek as he grabbed your hip with one hand, steadying you before pulling out almost all the way. You gasped at the loss of contact, but your breath was stolen when he slammed back in.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, throwing your head back when he pulled out and then connected your hips again.

The third, fourth, and fifth time…you conceded to him and let him do what he pleased. Entirely out of breath, you simply let your mouth hang open as you waited for him to press into you again.

“If it’s too much, let me know,” Mat said with his eyebrows raised in amusement, as his next thrust penetrated you a bit more gentle, “And I’ll stop.”

Unable to speak as he continued to thrust into you, you shook your head. You tucked a piece of hair behind his ear as your hand dropped to his strong back, “This is––This is good,” you gasped out as you felt him deeper inside of you, “You’re doing amazing.”

At your praise, the amusement in his eyes vanished as he let out deep breath through his nostrils.

He adopted a steady rhythm, neither too fast or slow, but with the force he thrusted into you at, it had you quickly feeling like you were going over the edge. You dug your nails into his back, and when he spread your legs even wider, the sensation he made you feel became even more intense. You bit the inside of your cheek, but the moans came anyway, begging him for more.

“That’s it,” Mat said through broken breaths, not even flinching when your nails scraped his shoulder blades, “Are you close?”

Whimpering, you nodded enthusiastically.

Satisfied, Mat grasped your hips and practically lifted them off the bed for each thrust. Barely able to see straight, and feeling entirely out of control, there was a flame burning in your lower gut, shooting out tingles that zipped up every vein of your body. And there was absolutely nothing you could do to hold onto the feeling of how he felt buried inside of you.

Mat knew you reached your peak when you could no longer assist in the thrusting and was left disorientated with slow breaths. Mat sped up his pace, driving himself into a state of bliss shortly after and collapsed on top of you.

After a minute or two of Mat trying to catch his breath from on top of you, he raised his head, relieving some of the weight on top of you. He didn’t say anything, just looked down at you with gentle eyes as he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek.

You shut your eyes tight, revelling in the euphoria that lingered in your body for the last time with Mat.

With your eyes still shut tight, you felt Mat shift around. You could feel your throat close up as you expected the inevitable to happen, but when you felt the warmth of your duvet that had fallen off the bed cover you––and felt a strong arm wrap tight around your waist––you let out a sigh of relief.

Your back was pressed against his chest as you felt him also let out a sigh of relief, as if he expected you to ask him to leave.

He soothingly stroked your arm and pressed a featherlight kiss to your shoulder as the two of you laid in silence.

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open, fighting the drowsiness taking over your body for as long as you could. Because once your breathing evened out, and your eyes closed, you knew he would be gone. So, you savored the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms one last time. And you savored the silence that allowed yourself to slip into a dream of what it would really feel like if he reciprocated your feelings.

You found solace in the silence surrounding him.

–––

You met someone else.

In the four months it had been since you had last been with Mat, you had met someone else.

He was nice; someone who was prepared for commitment. But he didn’t like to ride the subway, and he didn’t like to lean his head on your shoulder. He never called you on a Tuesday night. His laugh caused you to smile, but it wasn’t an ear-to-ear smile. And he liked to watch movies in silence.

You met someone else.

But you still found yourself comparing him to Mat.

Whenever those thoughts creeped into your mind, you tried your best to push them out. The only way Mat was in your life anymore was if you tuned into an Islanders game. But the boy you met didn’t like to watch hockey that much, so it was rare you caught a game.

Not watching an Islanders game wasn’t the end of the world, after all, you did run in the same social circle, so you saw him occasionally. But your sentences were always kept short…That was if either of you approached the other, which was more rare than you watching him on the television. But you had never seen Mat when you were with Noah, the new boy you had started seeing after you ended your friends with benefits with Mat.

But there was a first time for everything.

You were at a friend’s house, a mutual friend between you and Mat, so you shouldn’t have frozen up when you saw him walk through the door. In the kitchen, you stood with Noah, who had an arm draped over your shoulder, and some friends. You tried your hardest to contribute to the conversation, but like always, Mat distracted you without trying.

From the way his hair was messily styled, but looked put together at the same time, to the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled…You couldn’t help but admire him. He was in the middle of laughing, and you felt the corners of your mouth tug upward, but then his eye caught yours and his laughter died down. Sad that you couldn’t hear your favorite sound anymore, you saw his eyes narrow in on the arm around your shoulder.

“Everything alright?” Noah whispered in your ear.

You broke eye contact with Mat just as you saw the faintest bit of pain in his eyes.

Tilting your head up toward Noah, you smiled tightly and lied, “Never better.”

He chuckled, pressed a kiss to your temple and went back to conversing with your friends. Immediately, your eyes went back to where you last saw Mat, but he wasn’t there. You scanned the crowd frantically, afraid you lost your chance to hear his laugh again, but when one of your friends called him over to join your circle, you lost your breath.

Mat stood across from you, jaw slightly clenched and his knuckles that held a beer bottle were a few shades lighter than his skin tone. He greeted everyone he knew, but when it came to you, he barely offered you a smile before turning his attention to Noah.

“I don’t think I know you.”

Your jaw dropped at Mat’s bluntness, and a few of your friends snickered. Being friends with benefits with Mat wasn’t a secret from your friends, but the two of you never really talked about it around them, and none of them knew why things ended.

“I’m Noah,” he introduced himself, an easy smile on his face because you had never breathed a word about Mat to him, “Nice to meet you. And you are?”

“Mat,” he said his own name with a sharp undertone, and his eyes glanced back down at Noah’s hand around softly tracing his nails up and down your shoulder. His eyes softened for a split second, before he heavily breathed through his nostrils, raising his eyebrows at Noah, “And the two of you are…”

“Mat,” you snapped at him with a glare before Noah could answer the question.

You had been seeing Noah for a little under two months, and your relationship didn’t have a title on it. Which you were fine with since the two of you agreed to take things slow, and Noah reassured you he was committed to you. Because at least with Noah, he expressed that he wanted a relationship with you. Mat never gave that to you.

Mat shrugged his shoulders, knowing full well what his intentions were. He smirked slightly before raising the glass bottle to his lips; and he dropped the question as he engaged in conversation with your friends.

Throughout the night, you kept catching Mat’s glare on Noah, but when he looked at you, there was a fondness that you’d never seen in the time you spent with him. He always had gentle eyes, always knew how to draw you in with one look, but there was a sense of regret swirling about whenever he looked at you.

You had moved into the dining room, standing in the corner of the room with Noah, as you felt like a schoolgirl with a crush as he held your hand and told you how pretty you looked. He squeezed your hand, and just as he tilted his head to lean forward in a kiss, he pulled back, straightened his posture, and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as his eyes scrunched together in confusion as he looked down at the ground.

“I think a ping pong ball hit me?”

Your eyes dropped to the ground with his, and right behind his heel, you saw an orange ping pong ball. Immediately, you picked your head up and stared over his shoulder to see Mat with his vision locked on you in the corner. Your jaw clenched as tight as his, because you had been his beer pong partner more than enough times to know how competitive he became, and how he never wasted a shot.

You glared at him the same time he softened his gaze.

Bending down, Noah picked up the ping pong ball and returned it back to Mat’s team. He didn’t know that Mat had intentionally ruined a moment between the two of you. You stood in the corner with Noah for a few minutes longer until you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once you finished up in the bathroom, you were fully prepared to go back out with Noah. But when you opened the bathroom door, and saw an anxious looking Mat, you knew he would sabotage your night once more. Before you could say anything, he made his way into the bathroom, and locked the door.

“Mat, what are you doing––”

“Just hear me out,” he rushed out as he ran a hand through his hair, “Please.”

If that last word didn’t hold so much meaning to your relationship with Mat, you would’ve pushed past him and left him alone after the stunts he pulled earlier. But with his eyebrows pulled together, tormented eyes wide with anxiety, the least you could do was honor his request.

So with a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and nodded your head.

Mat cleared his throat and tucked a piece of his hair behind his right ear, and then tucked a piece of hair behind his left ear, “I––How was your Tuesday?”

His small talk threw you off, but you played along, “It was fine.” With a single breathy laugh, Mat raised his eyebrows at your answer, and waited in silence until he got a truthful answer. With a roll of your eyes, you huffed, “It sucked. Like always.”

“Do you talk to Noah about your Tuesday’s?”

“I don’t think we should talk about this,” you dropped eye contact with him and reached out for the door. But Mat blocked your exit. You tried stepping around him, but he mirrored your movement. With a sigh, you dropped your shoulders, “What do you want, Mat?”

With your question, his face grew serious and he took a step toward you.

“What do I want…” He hummed and took another step toward you. Ever so slowly, like the last time you met at your apartment, he reached the tips of his fingers out to touch the inside of your palms, “I want to eat my favorite snacks on your couch, lay in bed together, see you wear my jersey again…” He wiggled his eyebrows at his last desire, but before you could shove his shoulder at his show of arrogance, he quickly reached down to lace his fingers with yours.

“I want to hear about your Tuesday’s,” his voice shrank, but when he looked into your eyes, he offered you the smallest of relaxed smiles, “I miss the color of your eyes.”

At a time and place in the past, this was exactly what you wanted to hear. It was everything and more you wanted to hear, but it had come months too late.

The moment you dropped his hand was the same time the smile on his face dropped.

“I’m with Noah now,” you took a step back, “I––I’m with someone else now.”

Mat rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm and when he removed his hands, you saw a harsh pain in them that could only be classified as regret that he caused himself, “Please,” he pleaded with you and took a step forward to catch your hands again. But you stepped back, “Seeing you with him tonight it––Or even when we were together months ago, just imagining you with someone else––”

“That’s not fair,” you felt a painful sting behind your eyes, “I told you I wanted more, but you said no.” He was silent and you sniffled, “You can’t say this now.”

“I miss you,” he gulped, and again, he stepped forward and reached out for you, “I’ve never missed anyone as much as I miss you––”

You shook your head, clamping your lips together trying to block out all of the words you wanted him to say to you months ago, “Mat, stop––”

But like you didn’t want to hear his confession of feelings, he didn’t want to hear that he was too late, “It’s just…Fuck,” he swore under his breath, and shook his head as he looked down at the ground, having trouble stringing the right words together. But when he looked up at you, you could clearly see the inner-turmoil he had gone through over the past months, “I can’t even lose you because I don’t have you.”

The suffering behind his voice caused a single tear to roll down your cheek.

He stepped aside, removing himself from blocking the exit. With a sharp inhale, he sucked in a deep breath, holding it in––just like the tears behind his eyes––as he accepted defeat, “I never had you, did I?”

Unable to stand in his presence any longer without feeling like you were going to sob, you quickly brushed past him and through the door with clouded vision from holding in your tears.

As you left the party, not bothering to tell anyone you were making an early departure, the only thing you could think of was that he did have you. Even if he never thought he did…He had you months ago when you started your friends with benefits. He had you all the time during your arrangement. He even had you when you left him alone on his couch after ending things. And now more than ever, even though you were with someone else, he still had you.

He would always have you in some way.

–––

Your relationship with Noah didn’t progress.

Whether it was due to the fact he never picked up on how Tuesday’s were your worst days or how he picked up on you being distant ever since that party…A relationship never progressed with him.

A month and a half had passed since that party where Mat had you in the bathroom and confessed his feelings for you. Admittedly, you imagined the moment to be sweeter than the heartache both of you felt in that tiny room, but he had said all the words you dreamed about.

You also missed the way he slowly stroked up and down your arm after an intimate moment. You missed the way his hair tickled your neck when he leaned his head on your shoulder. You missed the way he always lit your favorite candle at his place, and always had a backup in case the candle burned out. And most of all, you missed the sound of his laugh.

The month and a half had been miserable. You didn’t have Mat. And you didn’t have anyone who could replace him. So when a particularly hard day came around, you were too exhausted to care that you might not have Mat anymore.

He picked up halfway through the second ring.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, airy, as he breathed in a few breaths, waiting for you to say something. But when all he heard was a shaky breath, he spoke with an even more gentle tone, “Not a good Tuesday?”

Sitting on your couch, wrapped up in a blanket pretending it was someone’s arms around you, you clenched your jaw and shook your head. You felt your throat close up as you sniffled, “No.”

“Is there…What can I do?”

“Come over,” you whispered. And with the way your quivering voice––especially on a Tuesday––Mat knew that all you wanted was a hug, and for someone to say everything would eventually be okay, “Please.”

“Sit tight,” you could faintly hear a smile toying on his face, “I’ll be there within the hour.”

As much as you wanted to stay on the line with him, because even hearing his breathing on the other end calmed you down, you knew he couldn’t be on the phone when he traveled to you. Reluctantly, you hung up after breathing out a nearly inaudible okay.

And like every promise Mat made, he arrived at your place––with a container of soup––within the hour.

You tightened the blanket around your shoulders when you saw him standing in your doorway. He wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt from a year the Islanders made it to the playoffs, and scuffed up sneakers with the laces barely tied together.

Stepping aside, you welcomed him into your apartment, and he wordlessly walked in and headed toward your kitchen. Blindly, you followed him. He set the container down on your small kitchen table and then bent down to open the cabinet where you kept your pots. He poured the soup in the pot, turned the burner on medium, took down two bowls from a cabinet above the stove, and then opened your silverware drawer for two spoons.

He moved around your home like he had never left.

Once everything was in place, Mat turned around the same time he released a deep breath. And with one look at you, his smile was dismal, and his eyes brimmed with sadness thinking about all of the Tuesday’s you had to deal with by yourself.

Neither of you had to say any words to express how lonely you both felt without each other.

You had barely taken two steps toward him when he instinctively opened his arms for you. Barreling into him, his arms felt better around you than the blanket you had wrapped tight around you for the last few hours. With a shaky breath, you breathed in his scent, and you noticed that he smelled like your favorite candle.

Even with your layers of clothes, and the blanket you had, you still felt the heat of his fingers and palms as they softly ran up and down your back, “You’ll be okay.”

With eyes squeezed tight, you gasped for another breath.

“We can talk about it over soup,” Mat whispered as one hand went from your back to soothingly stroke up and down your arm.

You nodded your head against his chest.

The two of you stood in the middle of your kitchen, leaning against each other, until the soup was finished heating up. He took a ladle, poured the soup into two bowls, and carried them to your living room. You followed him, skeptical as to why he didn’t sit at the table, but when you saw him carefully sit cross-legged on your couch––waiting for you to sit across from him––you faintly smiled.

You dropped the blanket from your shoulders, and mirrored Mat’s cross-legged position on the couch. With a bowl of steaming hot soup in each of your laps, you unloaded your treacherous Tuesday to him. And he listened. He listened intently; asking questions where appropriate and reassuring you that the best thing you can do right now is be the best possible version of yourself.

After the soup was finished, the two of you stayed on the couch; you twiddling your thumbs, and Mat tucking his hair nervously behind both of his ears, because neither of you knew where to go from here.

But like all of the times you had been with Mat, he braved through the uncertainty and went after what he desired.

He stretched his limbs out on the couch, feet brushing against your thighs as he lifted his arms over his head. His eyes shut tight as he let out a yawn, and then extended a hand out to you. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you reached out for his hand and he pulled you down into his chest. A laugh escaped your lips as he pulled you into him, both of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place.

And as you settled between the back of the couch cushion and Mat, you listened to his rapid heartbeat as he played with the cotton fabric of the navy blue shirt you wore.

“Is this my shirt?”

You shook your head no against his chest, “It’s mine.”

Mat let out a soft chuckle as he pinched your hip, “I know it’s your shirt, but it…You’re wearing my last name.”

You lifted your head from its soft place on his chest and awkwardly turned your head over your shoulder to see for yourself. And just like he had said, you were able to make out a B-A-R and the number 13 in orange writing. When you got home from your long Tuesday, it was the first thing you saw when you changed into lounge wear. And lucky enough for Mat, it just so happened to be his last name and number.

“I didn’t intentionally wear it,” you mumbled into his chest as his fingertips lightly grazed your bicep. You inhaled an uneven breath, nervous that he might be thinking you called him over for the wrong reason, your voice dropped to a whisper, “I…I didn’t call you over that,” he squeezed your shoulder, reassuring you he knew, “You always make me feel better.”

“More than just on a Tuesday?”

“More than a Tuesday.”

You smiled against his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Lifting your head up, you placed both palms flat on Mat’s chest, and leaned your chin on the tops of your hands and peered up at him, “I’m so tired now, but I want to talk in the morning.”

Mat nodded, “I want to talk too.”

“Do you have morning skate?” You readjusted your head so that it rested just on his collarbone, enough room for Mat to rest his cheek against your forehead.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I do, but I’ll work around your schedule.” You nodded against his chest, ready for sleep, but Mat’s gentle whisper kept you awake for a few more moments, “I want this,” his voice was almost lost under the hum of the air conditioning starting up, “I want something more with you. I want to make it work.”

You pressed a soft kiss to the base of his neck and he tightened his hold around your shoulder, emphasizing his seriousness.

As the two of you laid on the couch, right as you almost fell into a deep sleep, Mat groggily mumbled about how you needed to sleep in your bed to feel better on Wednesday. Despite your unwillingness to move, you sleepily move off Mat with eyes barely open. And just like how he moved around your kitchen, he took hold of your limp hand in his and pulled you along to your room.

You did your night time routine, and when you slipped under the covers, you saw Mat stand by the doorway, prepared to make an exit. But as you clutched your white linen sheets to your chest in a fist, one hand lazily rubbed your drowsy eye.

“Stay,” you said through your yawn, “Please.”

“Okay.”

Mat rushed through his bedtime routine and quickly slid in under the sheets. Much like your position on the couch, he curled an arm around you and you laid the side of your face on his chest. As both of your breathing evened out, slow and unhurried, you knew you were on the same wavelength.

And as you felt yourself begin to lose consciousness of reality and slip into your dreams, you fell asleep with a smile. Because when you dreamed, you dreamed of Mat, and all of his dreams became yours.

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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 5 years

Text

Graduation Gift

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested: Yes – Anonymous

Tagging: @aw-hawkeye @caswinchester2000

Fandom: NHL

Relationship: Established; Mat Barzal x Reader

Summary: Mat surprises the Reader at her graduation.

Word Count: 672

Warnings: None.

Being in a long distance relationship was hard. You were in one place and they were somewhere else and you got to watch your friends and their partners all hug and kiss and go on dates and you got a phone call and texts.

And you loved Mat. You wouldn’t trade Mat for the world, you just wished you were closer.

You were still in Vancouver and he was in New York and, let’s be honest, New York was probably the furthest place in America from Vancouver and it made things difficult.

You would see him during the off season and holidays and when he played Vancouver and he would fly you out to New York every now and then and when you had breaks from school. But, it still really sucked being so far away from not only your boyfriend, but your best friend. Because that’s what Mat was, your best friend turn boyfriend, someone you had known all your life and had been close with all your life and now he was on the other side of the continent.

And after you graduated, you were going to look for a job in New York to be closer to Mat and you had a plan, but you were graduating now and it hurt just a little bit more when Mat told you he wouldn’t be able to fly to Vancouver to see you graduate, like he had said he would.

Once again, you were going to see all your friends graduate with their boyfriends and you would get a phone call.

You didn’t blame Mat and you didn’t want to blame Mat. You knew he had a job and you were damn proud of him for how well he was doing, it just stung.

So, yeah, maybe you were a little mopey at your graduation. Maybe you didn’t smile quite as much as you thought you were going to after the four years of hard work. But, who could blame you? You were graduating without so much as a text message from Mat to congratulate you.

You knew he was busy in New York, but damn… Not even a single text?

After the ceremony, you got with your friends and were taking pictures when you felt a hand on your lower back. You looked over, expecting to see one of your friends, but instead you found Mat smiling back at you.

You gasped in surprise and pulled him into a hug, causing Mat to laugh as he held you tightly.

“Are you really here?” You asked, your voice muffled by his suit.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I am. I worked it out so that I could get here and it was so last minute that I just thought I’d surprise you.”

“I love you so much and I’m so happy you’re here, but I hate you so much for not telling me.” You said, pulling back to look up at him, but keeping your arms around his middle.

Mat brought a hand up to cup your cheek as he chuckled. “You have to get over your hatred for surprises.”

“I don’t hate surprises; I hate that I was moping all day ‘cause you weren’t going to be here with me when you actually were. I could have avoided a lot of pouts.”

Mat lightly ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “But your pouts are so cute.”

“No.” You whispered and pouted at him. “But, I am so happy you’re here.”

Mat nodded, his smile softening. “Me too. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I couldn’t be here.”

You didn’t reply, instead you leaned forwards to kiss him softly, your arms moving to wrap around his neck as he kept his hand on your cheek, his other hand moving to your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

You pulled back after a few moments and rested your forehead against his. “I missed you so much.”

Mat pulled back to kiss your forehead. “I know. I missed you too.”

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nyisles · 4 years

Text

Magic In The Hamptons

Part FOUR

part one | part two | part three

Player: Mathew Barzal

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: language, questionable steam? - tryna keep this pg 13 because i’m not a smut writer.

Notes: thank the LORD the writers block has passed. Lmk what you peeps think (i crave validation), of course she isn’t edited so yeah just uhh enjoy.

Deep breath, you reminded yourself. It was hard though as you looked around the room you were in realizing this definitely was Mat’s place. The pictures of him and his family on a bedside table, and a hockey bag in the corner of the room. What did you do last night, (Y/N), you thought to yourself. You laid in bed for another two minutes before realizing you couldn’t just hide here, as comfortable as it was. This wasn’t even your apartment. Sliding your legs over to the side of the bed, slowly bringing yourself up, a pounding headache came on like you knew it would. You cursed yourself to never drink again, especially never a drink that Mat Barzal makes. Padding down the hall, you found yourself in the living room, the only place in Mat’s apartment you’d ever seen before. It was all nicely decorated, barely looking like a bachelor pad and something a bit homey-er. Much to your surprise Mat was curled up in a few blankets, sleeping quite peacefully on the couch. Had you kicked him out of his own bed after… well… after maybe what you think might have happened. “Mat.” you whispered. No response. “Mat.” you whispered a little louder. No response. Suddenly you found yourself going over and poking him square in the chest. “Mat.”

His eyes fluttered open, and a sly little smile came across his face. It disgusted you, well not really, it disgusted you how much you loved it. “Ah, glad to see you’re alive this morning. I was a little worried.” He said in the raspiest morning voice you’d ever heard in your life. It felt like your knees might give in, his morning voice was just that attractive. Do something gross, you said internally trying to challenge him. You just sighed, throwing your head down doing a little bit of your best mopey charlie brown impression. “I literally had to throw you over my shoulder after the uber, force you into the bathroom to change and then you had the audacity of saying the sweatpants i gave you were scratchy so you made us swap right then and there.” Sliding his legs over so you could sit down on the couch, you let out a sigh. “I am...so sorry.” was all you could muster up not even looking at his face. The embarrassment was far too strong. “(Y/N), you have a killer ass, I am not sorry.”

Your face turned the brightest shade of red in the whole human existence, you were truly a tomato, not even... You were a fire hydrant. “Jesus, Mat.” was all you could mutter before giving his legs a little push as he tried to stretch them out across your lap. In all honesty you couldn’t even make eye contact with him, so you just had to watch him from the corner of your eyes. “Honesty is the best policy, and to be fair that is all I saw.” He said throwing his hands up in the air to prove his innocence, hard to believe he was all that innocent. Deep down you were slightly pleased, and completely relieved that’s where it ended. A subtle showing of the ass was something you could live with, or at least learn to get over in a few months, maybe days. “And maybe next time you can let me at least have half of my bed instead of telling me I had to stay on the couch. This shit is going to mess with my back, have fun telling all of Long Island you’re the reason I’m out due to undisclosed back issues.” Rolling your eyes you, picked the pillow off the back of the couch behind you whacking his body with it. He let out a little groan as he decided to sit up, as he glanced over at the clock on the wall. “You’re joking, (Y/N). It’s only 6:30.”

“Then go to your real bed, I should probably go home, pop an advil, and try to sleep this off.” Mat rolled his eyes, standing up then taking your hands and standing you up off his couch. “Advil is in the bathroom cabinet, I’ll see you in my room.” He said walking off down the hall from where you’d come from, not giving you a moment to even think or respond. To be fair, you felt obligated to stay, you didn’t even know where your clothes were from last night, how could you leave? It was only 6:30 anyways, you doubted that there would be any real ubers driving around and it was way too early for Reese or any of your other friends to pick you up. So you walked yourself to his bathroom, popped an advil and almost immediately found yourself back in Mat’s room. He was already laying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

Pulling the sheets over, you snuck yourself into bed trying to give Mat some personal space. You had no idea if he was a cuddly guy, or just thought you both deserved a little bit more rest. Glancing over you saw him now shirtless, you were too nervous to move any of the blankets further seeing what else he had on. You were aware it wasn’t that weird, most boys liked to sleep shirtless and in boxers. Hell, if you were home alone you’d rip off these sweatpants and sleep without pants. Mat glanced up from his phone looking at you practically hanging off of the edge of the bed. Instead of making some sort of comment, he tossed his phone on the side table next to him and grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants gently tugging you over to him. “You were so into me last night, and now I have to drag you over here to cuddle. I thought you were an affectionate kind of girl.” He said softly as he closed his eyes, “It’s not fair.”

“So needy. I thought you wanted to sleep.” you said now cuddling into Mat, trying not to overthink this. “Originally sure, but there’s a ton of things we could do here.” Mat wiggling his eyebrows as you, as you gave him a small smack on the chest. Wincing, Mat get out a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, in this moment, life was pretty good. It’s almost like your hangover had disappeared. You were perfectly content laying next to this seemingly perfect guy, but at the same time Mat did have a point. Your feelings of wanting to go home with him last night hadn’t changed, now you were just sober with a less forward attitude. Tilting your head up planting a kiss on Mat you figured there was no better time to go for it than right now. Sliding your leg over his body, you found yourself in his lap, slowly grinding yourself down on the boy continuing the makeout, pulling away briefly. “Alright Barzal, whatcha got?” You said with a cheeky smirk. He didn’t dare speak. It’s like the green in his eyes turned dark, and his hands found your waist flipping the two of you over so he was on top. And the good news was, you would definitely remember this.

- - -

You spent the next weeks floating around on a cloud. Mat’s training had picked up since the season was soon to start, and work was a bit more demanding, but the two of you had managed to keep up, sometimes he’d even call you when he was ‘bored’ before some preseason game and couldn’t nap, and he’d slept over your apartment twice claiming your apartment was ‘closer’ to the rink when in reality it was just about the same distance thanks to Long Island traffic. It felt like any fears or doubts about Mat disappeared. He’d thrown you into a group chat with Tito, Emma, and Derick and made an effort to get to know your friends. Your girlfriends were constantly hounding you when you two would define whatever it was that the two of you were doing, though you ignored it knowing you couldn’t push it with him. Every conversation about that made you think back to when you’d originally met some of the wives at Sydney’s wedding, who made it seem like you couldn’t force a hockey player into anything, they’d just spite you with way girls who were way prettier. The last thing you wanted to do was push Mat to Whitney. It was funny because she’d even requested to follow you on instagram, though you left her request pending. You never brought it up to anyone besides Tito who just laughed it off and told you not to accept it.

It was hard not to find yourself daydreaming at work as you typed away on your computer, but the buzz from your phone brought you out of your thoughts. Looking down you saw Mat’s name across the screen. It was hard not to smile a little bit, you glanced around the workplace making sure no one would be pissy you answered a personal call. “MB” you said softly into the phone, “you trying to get me fired?”

“Would that mean you’d be free this Friday night?”

“I can be available even with a job this Friday night, why what’s up? Big plans to fall asleep on my couch five minutes into a movie?” you joked trying to poke fun. It was far too easy, and you both had a solid flirty banter to keep up with. “Actually no, it’s opening night. I wanted to know if you would support your favorite hockey player. Derick Brassard.” You couldn’t hold back the laugh, as you took another glance around your office noticing that no one really cared who you were on the phone with. “(Y/N), this is where you say, of course. I’d love to watch my favorite hockey player and Mat on the ice at the same time.”

“I hope Emma doesn’t get too jealous, but I’d love to go.” With that you got little butterflies in your stomach. This felt like a pretty big deal, being invited to the opening game of the season as Mat’s plus one? Or person? Or female friend? That was all very much up in the air, but it felt as if things were headed in a good direction. “Cool, cool.” Mat said so casually, but what you didn’t know was how excited he was and how ‘cool’ he was trying to play it on the other end of the line. “Listen, I’m gonna go run some errands, but I’ll talk to you later.” Within five minutes you had been added by Emma to another group chat, this time assuming it was the other girls since you were welcomed with a warm text from Grace.

Grace Lee: Isles bitches, pregame in the coli parking lot on Friday. I expect everyone to be in their best orange and blue. Chipolini sangria will be flowing, so drink up for me, #preggers.

A small squeal escaped your lips, your dumb ass was too drunk the last time you saw her to even realize she probably wasn’t drinking. You sent back your best ‘congrats and can’t wait to see you all’ like all of the previous texts were starting to read. All of the ‘who is the xxx number’ texts came pouring in and before you could type back.

Grace Lee: (Y/N) scored the elusive MB13 tix and that’s the number. Our baby has arrived. We have been waiting for you in the gc.

You could only love her message trying not to draw too much attention to yourself, but it was like Grace was the big sister you needed to show you into this world. Emma did a pretty good job at helping you out, but she was still new to the isles wags and basically the same age as yourself. She, maybe, had known these women for as long as you had. Derick was still new to the team.

- - -

The next thing you knew it was 2:30 on Friday, skipping out of work as early as you possibly could to get ready to be in a parking lot with girls who were practically models at 5pm for a 7pm game to which you were still incredibly nervous for. Your nerves might’ve matched Mat’s. He had sent you at least three different pictures of suits lying on his bed asking which he should wear. It felt super domestic, and you loved telling him how you thought the black velvet suit jacket would be cute, especially with the grey tie. He was also kind enough to let you borrow some clothing, he didn’t know it actually, but you’d managed to steal a white islanders t-shirt and one of his plaid jackets, that honestly you looked better in. Paired with a pair of jeans that made your ass look fabulous, how could the day go wrong?

It didn’t for a while. Grace had gifted you with a pom beanie that had the number 13 blinged out on the front in orange sparkles. The rest of the girls and you were laughing, having fun and genuinely enjoying each others company in your matching beanies. They showed you all the cool places they’d watch the games. Sometimes in a box, sometimes down low if they were actually wanting to watch the game. For tonight they settled on sitting in one of the boxes, wanting to celebrate the start to a hopeful new season. This time you had learned your lesson and made all of your own drinks. Your buzz was only light, and you were able to enjoy the game.

The first period was fun, the game was tied 1-1. It was in between periods as you and all the girls just sat around chatting about what it’d be like this season. They filled you in on how fun a win was, and how miserable a loss could be. Hockey talk didn’t last long as you quickly moved onto Grace’s baby, to what other events you all could do together since it was a ‘fun group of girls.’ The group almost didn’t notice the door to the box open and slam shut, but it was like the girls had seen a ghost. A different kind of silence came across the room. With your back being towards the door you turned around, and immediately your heart had dropped. Your hand immediately ripping the stupid sparkly 13 beanie off your head, not caring if it left your hair looking a total mess. “Ladies!” a girls voice exclaimed. You’d studied her enough to know it was Whitney. Fucking Whitney. “I’m so glad Mat left my ticket at will call. My flight got delayed and you know how much traffic was on the expressway.”

You couldn’t even speak, you just felt your throat close up, as Grace who was sitting next to you on the couch gave your arm a gentle ‘i’m here for you’ squeeze as she was the only one brave enough to open her mouth. “Whitney… I didn’t know that Mat invited you. We haven’t seen you in a while.” She said trying not to be too direct. “Matty always leaves me a ticket.” She quickly came across the room finding an open seat across from you as she grinned. “And we have a fresh face, and who are you?” she said playing dumb as if she hadn’t requested to follow you on instagram, or as if she didn’t see the stupid hat laying in your lap.

“(Y/N) is a good friend of ours, Whitney.” Megan Bailey came to your defense. Not wanting anything to get more uncomfortable than it already had been, you noticed the game starting to pick up again. “Oh… guys, game’s starting.” you managed to say in a soft voice trying not to get yourself worked up. Your brain was running a mile a minute. Did Mat bring you here to embarrass you? He invited two girls to the game. Did he really think that both of you would show up, were you just supposed to be the backup? This girl had flown in from Vancouver for him. Surely he had to have some idea that this chick would be here. The next 40 minutes of the game came and went and you were honestly to paralyzed and in your feelings to move yourself off the couch and out of the box. It didn’t help that the boys ended up losing by one goal and honestly having an okay game, at best.

“You’re not fucking leaving.” Grace whispered to you, gripping onto your wrist. “You’re going with us to meet the boys downstairs outside of the locker room and you’re getting an explanation.” She didn’t have you in that tight of a hold, but you were still too shocked and in your own head to do anything. Thoughts were running a mile a minute. The girls put distance between you and Whitney as you all made your way down to the spot where you would meet the boys. Originally Sydney had planned a surprise dinner for the whole group, but now you weren’t feeling like you could face the boys. At least you were being brave enough and not crying.. At least not yet.

Hearing Anders tell the boys it was only game one, and it was their year was kind of sweet and brought a halfhearted smile to your face as you watched the boys come out of the locker room, freshly showered and honestly not looking as depressed as you might’ve thought. Mat was one of the last boys to walk out of the locker room with Tito and it’s like you didn’t even have a minute to approach him before Whitney was throwing herself in his arms. His face seemed shocked, it disgusted you, he probably didn’t even think he’d get caught in having two girls come as his plus one to this stupid game. “Whitney…” he said awkwardly. “Thanks for leaving the ticket. I missed the first period, but I heard you played great.” She quipped back not letting him even finish speaking to her. His eyes glanced around the group until they found your face. You handed your hat back to Grace. “I don’t want this anymore. I’m sorry, I’m just going to go now.” You said feeling your eyes watering up.

“You’re a tough cookie, don’t let him see this shit hurt you.” She said softly as the rest of the group tried to act normal as wives and girlfriends met back up with their significant others. Anders came over giving your back a gentle rub, “If it means anything, we like having you around.” You put an awkward smile on your face giving him a nod, as you found the nearest exit. The cool October air hit you like a ton of bricks as you pulled Mat’s jacket around you trying to find more warmth but it only made you more upset. Luckily there were taxis just waiting to take home fans and you quickly found one not lingering around the coli any longer.

(Y/N): don’t contact me anymore. you’ve embarrassed me and you know it… in fact block this number.

You sent Mat a text as quick as your fingers could type it out, as you let tears just fall from your eyes in the stupid taxi, looking like some sort of crazy girl.

(Mat Barzal): (●●●)

You watched the little dots come and go. No text ever came. You were relieved.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal imagine #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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