#hes on a team made up of FLORIDA PANTHERS

[ratatatastic]

i think its so funny that bradley chose sasha OF ALL PEOPLE to try and provoke. like thats the guy youre choosing? really? what scouting report are you reading?

is it funny that it looks like sasha angles his head to hear him better

and twisting up with him after puckdrop made me HOWL like ohhhh we're playing the long game huh

florida panthers @ boston bruins game 3 | 5.10.24

[haddonfieldwhore]

i miss you, i’m sorry - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: you go with your bf to a hockey game; he is unaware of your history with one of the players (please read warnings!)

warnings: abusive bf, violence, strong and derogatory language, angst, a few uses of y/n

word count: 3k

you felt like you hadn’t been able to breathe properly in hours, sitting rigid like a stone next to mike, who’s mood has only deteriorated as the night went on. mike was a diehard coyotes fan, and had brought you to the game with him last minute when his friend had cancelled last minute.

“are you sure none of your other friends would want to go? they would probably have more fun than i would,” you had offered, desperately trying to get out of going.

“they’re all busy,” he replied. “i know you hate hockey, but can you try to have a good time, for me?” he asked sweetly, pulling you into his arms. you weren’t fooled by his tone; you would go and you would enjoy it, you didn’t have a choice.

“okay,” you smiled, and he kissed you softly before going to your shared room to get ready. you sighed, trying to figure out how you were going to make it through this game. you didn’t hate hockey - you used to love it actually, but when you started dating mike you chose to keep that part of your life a secret. it seemed silly at face value, but there was a bigger secret you were hiding from him, and you asked the universe why it had to be the panthers that arizona was playing tonight.

a little less than two years ago, you had dated their star player, matthew tkachuk for almost a year, before the travel and hectic schedule got to be too much for you, and you decided to leave; the hardest thing you had ever done. the relationship had been kept pretty quiet thankfully, no traces of it online except for one or two group photos from when you were together still floating around instagram; though you had done all you could to erase any evidence.

if mike found out, you honestly weren’t sure how he would react; but you knew it wouldn’t be good. you had met mike a few months after you and matthew broke up, and he was nice enough, until he wasn’t. he kept up the good guy just long enough for you to move in and become dependant on him, and suddenly you found yourself trapped. things were okay most of the time, but if he got angry, sometimes you got caught in the crossfire. he had only actually hit you once, but he yelled, and would sometimes grab you too hard, leaving you with bruises to cover before he could see them; he had the audacity to say that they made him upset.

he had been in a good mood when you got to the arena, and you were thankful that your seats weren’t too close to the ice, though you shuddered at the possibility of matthew seeing you in the crowd, despite how slim the chance was. you hadn’t seen him since they day you broke up, and as the familiar head of curly hair came out from the tunnel, skating on to the ice as part of the starting line up, your heart felt like it was being twisted in a vice.

you missed him. you missed your friends on the team, having grown pretty close to some of the guys, as well as their girlfriends. you hadn’t heard from any of them since leaving; it was too hard at first, and then it became a safety concern. any connection to your former life meant more risk of mike finding out about matthew, and that couldn’t happen.

“can you at least look like you want to be here?” mike whispered in your ear, and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. you put on a smile, and thankfully it was good enough, as he turned his attention back to the players on the ice.

the game started off a bit slow, however the panthers had a 1-0 lead at the end of the first, and through the second as well. the coyotes were playing pretty rough, getting quite a few penalties for some dirty hits, all while mike cheered them on, booing the refs anytime they called a penalty on arizona. you watched as one of floridas players, nick cousins, ran into one of the coyotes while he was low on the boards, the hit landing on his shoulders or maybe his head, you couldn’t really tell. another coyote skated up and checked nick face first into the boards; hard. he hadn’t been looking that way and had no warning to protect himself, and you watched in distress as he crumbled to the ice, and you were worried he was unconscious.

nick had been one of your closest friends while you were dating matt, and your heart pounded as you watched him struggle to his feet.

“that pussy folded like a piece of paper!” mike laughed, enjoying every second of him getting hit. floridas players jumped on the guy who had laid the hit on nick, defending their fallen teammate as a fight broke out, sending players from each team into the penalty box. mikes mood dropped with each second of the refs deliberating passed, the officials eventually awarding nearly 20 penalty minutes to forsling for florida, as well as enough penalty minutes to arizona to give the panthers a man advantage.

“that’s fucking bullshit!” he screamed, the crowd of arizona fans not happy about the decision either. you said nothing as mike spilled some of his fourth beer on your lap, just thankful it hadn’t got on his spare coyotes jersey that he had insisted you wear. as the players got ready to continue the game, you looked across the ice, locking eyes with the one person you hoped you could avoid more than anything. something flashed in his eyes as he saw you, but his attention was quickly back to the game as the whistle blew, and soon the second period was over and he was gone down the tunnel for intermission.

the coyotes scored in the third to tie the game, but the panthers got the lead back, scoring twice in close succession. matthew looked to you after putting the puck in the net, and it took everything in you to ignore him. mike was livid at this point, the alcohol not helping in the slightest, and you cringed internally as he grabbed your hand, holding it way too tight.

forsling finally came out of the penalty box after serving 17 minutes, and immediately scored an empty netter, solidifying a 4-1 victory for florida. with 2 minutes left in the game, mike dragged you out to the concession area. matthews eyes noticed your empty seats, and his heart dropped, wondering if he had imagined you even being there in the first place.

downstairs, mike pushed you against the brick wall next to the restroom.

“wait here. i gotta piss before we leave,” looking at the long lineup already formed outside the men’s room. the arena was small, and there were limited washrooms, so you had a feeling this was gonna take a while, but you dared not move from your spot against the wall.

you could hear the final buzzer go, and the florida players began walking out from ice level, and you realized that they had to walk through the main area to get to the visitors locker room, and your blood ran cold. most of the panthers paid no mind to you, but you held your breath as you saw matthew approaching, praying that he ignored you like the others had.

he thankfully didn’t say anything, but your eyes locked for the second time that night as he passed by, disappearing down the hall and into the locker room. your foot tapped anxiously on the floor, grinding a small piece of gravel under your shoe as you willed mike to hurry the fuck up.

10 minutes went by, and you exhaled in relief as he finally appeared, not even caring about the death grip he took on your wrist as he literally dragged you behind him towards the exit.

“y/n?” a familiar voice called, and you hoped with all you had that mike would ignore it and keep walking. “wait- y/n.” mike stopped, causing you to bump into his back with how fast you were following behind him. he turned around, and you were sure he was quite confused as to why matthew tkachuk was calling after you.

“what the hell do you want?” mike asked, looking matt up and down before turning to you, still holding you tight. “do you know this asshole?”

“no, let’s go home,” you pleaded, but he wasn’t budging.

“you got the wrong girl.” mike shrugged. “shouldn’t you be circle jerking with the other guys in the locker room right now?” he spat, still bitter about his team losing the game.

“i told them to start without me,” matthew joked dryly, and you could feel his eyes on you, however yours were glued to the floor.

“funny,” mike replied. “let’s go,” he pushed you in front of him to leave.

“wait, y/n - please.”

“i’m sorry, you have the wrong person.”

“yeah, chucky,” mike laughed. “you must be thinking of some other whore. i’m sure there’s a lot of desperate chicks around here that would suck your cock though, so stop talking to mine.”

“you really shouldn’t talk about women like that,” matthew threatened, and while his tone sounded calm, you knew he was furious.

“or what? what, you want to fight or something?” mike asked. you noticed a few people gathering to watch, either out of concern or just to see matthew, but you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“baby, can we please just-“

“shut up!” he shoved you and you fell to the floor, landing hard on your ass, before punching matthew in the face. matthew swung a fist at mikes face, hitting him square in the jaw. your eyes widened in horror as mike swung more drunken punches back at matt, and people backed away from the fight. you looked down the hall to see a familiar face, and you called out to your former friend.

“carter!” his eyes snapped up from his phone and he took out an airpod before he noticed the fight, and he quickly pulled matthew off of mike with the help of security guards that had come to help break up the situation. you stared at the ground in front of you again, feeling like the room was spinning and wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you. security handcuffed mike and escorted him out of the building, while carter and another security officer took matthew back down the hall towards the locker room.

an officer asked you to come with him, and he took you to an empty office room to take a statement about what happened. you just hoped matthew wouldn’t get in too much trouble.

•

when you left the office, there were thankfully little to no fans left in the arena, the hallways eerily empty as you walked towards the door. before you could reach it though, something - or someone - made you pause. you looked back down the hall to the locker room, and with a sigh walked towards it. you knocked on the door, your heart hammering against your ribcage as it opened, one of the team staff looking at you.

“i’m sorry, you can’t be back here-“

“it’s fine. she’s a friend,” carter interrupted her, opening the door to let you in. the room was empty, the team having already left, and you forced yourself to look at carter.

“are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded.

“thank you. i’m sorry-“

“don’t, it’s not your fault.” he opened his arms and you fell into them, hugging him tightly. “chuckys just getting patched up in the medic room. mostly procedure that they have to check him after a fight - usually it only happens during a game though,” he joked, and you found yourself smiling for real for the first time that night.

“is he in a lot of trouble?”

“no more than he normally gets himself into. it’ll be fine, y/n,” he assured you, but you were still worried there might be some legal repercussions. deciding there was nothing you could do about that right now, you managed to push the thought away and sat down on a bench in the locker room.

“you waiting around for him?” verhaeghe asked, and you nodded, eyes on the floor again.

“yeah. i think i’d be a shitty person not to.”

“you could never be a shitty person,” he smiled. “we miss you. chucky especially.” you looked up at him sadly.

“i miss you guys too.”

the medic door opened with a creak, and matthew walked out. you kept your eyes on your feet, counting the laces on your shoes over and over again.

“i’ll see you later,” carter said goodbye to both of you before leaving the room. you didn’t dare look up as matthew walked over slowly and sat down next to you, leaving space between you as his gaze lingered on you.

“you waited,” he said softly.

“yeah…. i don’t think i should have, but i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“you wanted to make sure i was okay?” he laughed softly. “yeah, i’m okay.” he said, and an awkward silence filled the room. “was he always like that?” he asked gently, and you shook your head sadly.

“nope,” you said bitterly, eyes growing wet with tears. “he was perfect at first. until he wasn’t.”

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. it’s not your fault.”

“i still am. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” you didn’t reply, knowing he was right. “y/n, you haven’t even looked at me.” he hand touched yours on the bench next to you, his touch so soft and gentle it was unfamiliar.

you turned your head towards him, and his heart broke at your sad expression. his lip was split open, red and forming a bruise already. you reached for his face without thinking, pulling your hand back before you went too far.

“what do you want me to say?” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. with the carefulness of someone touching glass, he brushed it off your face, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

“do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” he asked, somewhat ignoring your question. he didn’t want you to say anything, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

“i can figure something out,” you said, going through the options in your head; likely a hotel or sleeping in your car.

“please, i would feel a lot better if i knew you were somewhere safe. i have an extra bed in my hotel room-“

“no, matthew. i can’t do this.”

“do what?” he asked.

“this,” you gestured between the two of you. “thank you for protecting me, but i can’t let myself be near you. it’s too hard.”

“please,” his blue eyes looking in yours. the smell of his cologne wafted to your nose, filling you with a sense of safety that only he could ever bring you.

“okay,” you nodded.

•

the drive to the hotel was short and silent, but you felt at ease for the first time all night. the more time you spent with him, the more it felt like no time had passed; like things were back to how they were before. matthew held your hand the whole drive, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of it gently, his touch like a feather.

you got up to the hotel room and he grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase for you.

“you a coyotes fan now?” he teased, and you laughed. matthew hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound, but did he would do anything to hear it again and again.

“not by choice,” you laughed, pulling mikes jersey over your head, putting the t-shirt over your undershirt you had on.

“did he know about -“

“no,” you shook your head, dropping the jersey in the small garbage can, and matthew cracked a smile. “he probably wouldn’t have liked it very much.”

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to -“

“it’s okay. i know. how’s your lip?” you asked, still feeling guilty about it.

“it’s not my first split lip. i’ll live,” he smiled.

“is nick okay?” you asked, remembering the nasty hit during the game.

“he wasn’t feeling too hot after that. i’m not sure yet,” he admitted, and you nodded, before covering your mouth as a yawn slipped past your lips. “come on, sleepyhead, let get you to bed.”

you nodded, dragging your exhausted body into the nearest of the two queen sized beds. matthew tucked you into bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, and you reached for his hand before he could walk away.

“lay with me?” you asked sleepily, knowing it was selfish to use him as a safety net right now; but you felt you would fall apart without him.

“are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded. he crawled into bed next to you, letting you cling to him like a life raft. “you’re safe now. i won’t let anyone hurt you, baby, i promise.”

“i know, matty,” you snuggled into him, everything about him bringing you comfort you hadn’t felt since you left; his scent, his voice, the feeling of his arms around you. “i missed you.”

“god, i missed you to. i don’t want to let you go again.”

“please don’t,” you begged, your eyes wet with tears that fell onto the fabric of his shirt, your fingers gripping it so tight your knuckles hurt. “don’t let me go.”

“i won’t.”

you felt like you were dreaming; what had started as a nightmare turning into the first time you had felt safe in months. you were scared that you would wake up and it hadn’t been real - you would be next to mike in his apartment, the cold draft from the window on your side of the bed would prickle you skin like it always did and you would have to apologize for not having his lunch ready for work.

but instead you would wake up in the arms of someone who actually cared about you, the sun peeking through the cracks of the blinds, casting warmth onto your skin. along with it, matthew brought a light to your life that had been missing for so long, you thought it was lost for good.

matthew pressed another soft kiss to your forehead as you felt yourself falling asleep, knowing you were protected as long as he was next to you.

“thank you matty,” you murmured, barely awake as you nose brushed the side of his jaw, your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“anything for you.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[happilysmythe]

❥ 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 5.0k

warning: explicit content

"can you blow my mind?" — tyla

A/N: i recently received a request for trent and a leafs fan. i was given creative freedom and this is what i came up with. hope you like it, nonny <3

- - -

Bruins win Game 7 in OT.

The headlines came out at a rapid rate, informing the rest of the world that the Boston Bruins made it out of the first round and turned the Toronto Maple Leafs into mulch. Again.

Trent Frederic, along with a few teammates, were on too much of a high to return to their rooms at the hotel they’d been staying in just yet. Though they were home in Boston, coach Jim Montgomery thought it would be smarter to have the guys stay in a hotel instead of going back to their homes and apartments. Team bonding, he said.

The bunch set off for the bar inside the hotel, only a few blocks away from TD Garden, waiting a few hours before slipping in nonchalantly. They weren’t trying to get outed too fast, and they usually didn’t. Even once they were recognized, not much came of it. Most people were too drunk by then to make a scene, anyway.

So they sat down at the bar and ordered a few beers, celebrating accordingly and talking amongst themselves. They would finally let loose for just a night before the inevitable start of round 2 in just two days. They’d be having practice the next morning and flying down to Sunrise, Florida to face the Panthers, who were on their extensive break after knocking the Lightning in just 5 games.

Trent decided he’d had enough after his fourth beer, so he left his share and stood up to make his way out. As he turned around, his body hit something with a thud. He looked down and saw what it was that he came into contact with; a thin blonde woman with her arms out, jaw slack, and an empty hand that once held her drink.

Oh, and a Maple Leafs jersey.

“Oh, shit,” Trent muttered, compressing his lips.

You scoffed, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I can get you a new one.”

You looked up, a look of guilt on your face as your hands fell back down to your sides. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going, too—”

You paused.

“Where do I know you?”

He remained silent, shooting you a look as if to tell you that it should be obvious. It wasn’t long before your face dropped and it hit you. He suppressed a grin at your realization and parted his lips to speak.

“Name’s Trent,” he spoke smoothly, “but something tells me you already figured that out.”

“Well, you’re one of the last people I’d like to see right now,” you rolled your eyes, arms folded. “What’s a guy like you doing at some random bar at,” you looked at your watch, “12 in the morning after the game where you just knocked my team out of the playoffs?”

“Had to celebrate somehow,” he winked.

“Oh, god,” you grimaced. “I really do hate you guys.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine,” he laughed, putting his abnormally large hands on his hips. Your eyes subtly followed their path.

“Lighten up,” he teased. “C’mon. What’s your name? I know you’re not a,” he pinched the fabric of your jersey and pulled it to see the numbers, “Marner. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

You sighed at his remark and told him your name, but he made a face afterward.

“Too long.”

“Too long?”

“I think I’ll stick to Marner,” he told you, much to your dismay.

“Gross,” you replied irritatedly. “I don’t particularly feel like giving you the privilege of using a nickname. Just use my real name like everyone else. ”

“I’m all set, actually. I think I’ll stick to mine.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“You gonna let me buy your drink or keep bitching about who I am?”

“Fine,” you sighed, “buy me the damn drink.”

He and you made your way to the other side of the bar, far enough away from the rest of the guys and the few friends you went with that you wouldn’t be noticed. You sat next to each other on the bar stools, Trent talking your ear off and you reluctantly replying with mostly one-word responses.

“You can’t be that angry with me,” he finally spoke, breaking another silence. “I’m not the whole team, you know.”

“I can and I will,” you shrugged, sipping your almost-empty drink.

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll just have to make you talk.”

He put his elbows down on the table and turned his head to face you, “Why’d you decide to come out in public after that game? I wouldn’t have even bothered to show my face in a bar wearing that. You here with other people or something?”

“I came with a couple of friends.”

“Doesn’t answer my first question.”

You looked down. “They wanted to come down here. I told them it was probably a bad idea because of the fact that we’re, you know, Leafs fans. They did it anyway so I just tagged along.”

“Bet you didn’t expect to run into me,” he nudged you with his shoulder, bringing a faint smile to your lips. “There you go,” he teased when he noticed your expression. “See? I’m not so bad.”

“Fraternizing with the enemy is a bad look for a woman like me,” you retorted, a playful undertone to your words. It was uncharacteristic compared to the closed-off manner you had with every other response. You wouldn’t admit that, however.

“Oh, she jokes,” he took the final sip of the drink he’d bought himself upon sitting with you, even after deciding he’d had his last beforehand.

“Shut up, Frederic.”

“We’ve regressed to my last name now? Can’t even call me by my first?”

“But you won’t use mine at all,” you rolled your eyes, “Trent.”

You looked at him for maybe a tad longer than you should’ve, eyes slowly moving down his body. He wore a white collared shirt that hugged his arms and gray dress pants that looked awfully tight around his thighs. You couldn’t help but notice the facial hair he’d grown since the start of the round, giving him a gingery mustache with a somewhat patchy beard. You’d seen what he looked like before that and were undoubtedly intrigued by it, regardless of whatever grudges you held against him. But you couldn’t let him know that.

So you turned to face the television above the bar, watching the commercial in a quiet trance as if nothing happened.

“Hey,” he tapped his finger on the bartop, diverting your attention back to him. “Tell me something,” he softly requested as you looked back, adjusting his body to face yours. “Why did you let me buy you the new drink if you weren’t going to talk to me, hm?”

You swallowed, “I wasn’t going to be rude.”

“The real reason,” he pressed.

“There is no real reason.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “so why were you staring at me before?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lowered his voice and brought his face just slightly closer, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I mean,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “unless I didn’t see you looking for a while there. But I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.”

“Just…just shut up, Trent, alright?”

“Sounds like I hit a nerve,” he noted and you rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re cute when you’re irritable.”

His grin widened when you shook your head again, promptly informing him of how annoying he was once again. “But if I’m really being honest here,” he lifted his fingers and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think you’re pretty.”

At this, your hardened exterior softened. Your head turned just slightly so that he was in your field of view and you sighed gently. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

“I, um,” you cleared your throat, taking a breath, “I was looking before.”

“I know,” he softly responded, hand slipping down until his palm rested on your thigh. Initially, you flinched at the contact, but your muscles relaxed when you realized it was a warm gesture rather than one with malicious intent.

“You don’t have to be so cold,” he told you. “No matter who I play for, I’m just a guy.”

You were more attracted to him than you wanted to let on, and it surely didn’t help that he was being nicer to you. You suppressed a smile and faced him fully.

“It’s not that, it’s—it’s the point,” you flatly responded.

“You can look at me again,” he teased, thumb rubbing your thigh. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Your gaze lingered on him again, eyes flitting down to his lips before you looked away. It wasn’t hard for him to see through you—after all, you allowed him to keep his hand where it was, even after refuting his words. He took notice of your wandering eyes and finally pieced it together.

“Like the new look, eh?”

Your brows furrowed and you swallowed, “What new look…?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he replied with certainty. “You have a thing for the scruff?”

“Please. I don’t even know what you looked like before that,” you lied, taking an unsteady breath.

“Doesn’t change that you were looking at it, does it?”

“Well…” you trailed off, lips parted as you tried to think up an excuse. “No,” you finally gave up, letting your head hang down. “It doesn’t, because I have seen you before and I do have a thing for it. For you,” you shook your head, laughing at the reality of how weak you truly were. How stupid you must have looked to him. “So tease me all you want, say that you told me so—you’re right.”

A ringed finger slipped under your chin and tilted your head toward him, his face mere inches away from yours.

“I’m not going to tease you.”

You swallowed, expression falling as your eyes locked with his. They were brown, you noticed. And they were…warm. They largely contrasted how he looked at you previously. It brought you to an entranced sort of state.

His touch was soft, comforting. But in a way that made you want him more. Caused your mind to wander to places you knew it shouldn’t have gone. It felt good. Really good.

And you had no business wondering what the rest of him would feel like on you.

“Where are you staying?” you blurted out.

“Upstairs.”

“Take me,” the words left your mouth before you could protest.

An eyebrow raised and his grin turned to a smile. “Gladly,” he whispered, lowering his hand and standing up.

He held his hand out and you hesitantly took it, allowing him to discreetly walk you toward the exit of the bar. You ducked when you saw your friends, praying that by some miracle they didn’t see you walk out with Trent Frederic.

“Trent,” you whispered, clutching onto him harder now that you couldn’t be hidden by the darkness of the bar any longer. “What if someone saw?”

“You would’ve known by now. Trust me,” he reassured you as the elevator doors slid open. You walked in and the doors shut, enclosing you in the small space. “And if anyone did,” he started, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck, “it’s none of their business, anyway.”

“Mhm,” you agreed softly, eyes beginning to close when you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“See? Not so hard to agree, is it?”

“Mm…no…”

He laughed softly in your ear and pressed a tiny kiss to the skin behind it. He intricately placed a few more on the exposed skin, prompting a faint hum from your lips as the doors slid back open. His hand found its place on your waist as he gently pushed you out, guiding you down the hallway and finally stopping in front of his door.

By now, you’d become urgent—urgent to feel his lips on yours no matter how much you told yourself it was a stupid idea. You lived in Toronto; a whopping 500 miles away. And he played for Boston, the team you hated with a passion so strong that you vowed to never let yourself be endeared by them. Yet there you were, standing next to the forward who contributed to your favorite team’s loss, wanting nothing more than for him to make you feel oh, so good.

And he would.

The door clicked open and he pushed the lever down, stepping aside to let you in. He was quick to pin you to the door with his body, arm coming up behind your head to lock it and toss the room card to the side.

“I can’t believe I let you charm me.”

“What can I say,” he rasped, leaning in closer, “I know how to get a girl in my room.”

His lips finally connected with yours and you immediately reciprocated, hand flattening against his chest and gripping the material of his shirt. You pulled him closer, slipping your free hand around his neck before tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The hair above his lips rubbed against your skin, the feeling eliciting a faint hum from your mouth into his. He grinned at this and hooked his fingers under the blue jersey you wore, pulling away promptly and carefully lifting it up.

“Taking this shit off,” he mumbled, pulling the fabric over your head and discarding it to the floor. “You’d look much better with mine.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not going to happen, Trent.”

“We’ll see,” he grinned, moving his lips to your neck and marking up the skin, drawing whimpers from your mouth.

Your hand snaked into his hair, fingers threading between the dusty ginger strands as you pushed his head closer. He kissed up to your jaw, sliding his hand up to your neck, the other placed on the bare skin of your hip. His fingers pressed into the nape of your neck and his thumb rested just under your chin, hand pressing the back of your head against the door as his lips kissed a path down your jawline.

“Shit,” you moaned breathily, reaching for the buttons on his shirt as his mouth returned to yours hungrily.

You worked your way down, the material of his shirt parting and exposing his skin as each button fell open. His tongue slipped between your lips, grazing your teeth before rolling over yours languidly. Soft fingers untucked his open shirt from his pants and began to trace his stomach, moving slowly up to his firm chest. The action caused the large hand around your neck to tighten its hold, prying a moan from your throat.

“Didn’t know,” you panted, “—didn’t know you wore a chain.”

“Like it, mm?”

The way he grinned down at you brought a lump to your throat. He made you nervous. Weak, even. And the height at which he stood compared to you surely didn’t help. So you nodded curtly in response, hoping he’d take the hint and not press you further.

But he took it and instead removed his hand from your neck to slide it down and meet the other at your lower back, promptly hoisting you up. Your hands moved to his face and held it while you continued to kiss him, him walking the two of you away from the door and in the direction of the bed. You kicked your shoes off just as he grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall outside the bathroom and laid it lazily atop the sheets. He then lowered you onto your back and let go, allowing you to lie comfortably on the bed as he remained on his knees in front of you.

He quickly shed himself of the torn-open shirt and tossed it toward the empty bed on the other side of the room. His body soon hovered over yours, an arm on the bed on each side of your head as he kissed you again. His lips moved to your neck once again, working the skin until soft moans slipped through your parted ones.

“Trent,” you exhaled, chest rising and falling deeply, “isn’t…isn’t someone else staying here with you? There’s—mm—two beds.”

“There was,” he mumbled into your skin, moving down to your collarbones.

“So couldn’t we get—”

“Was,” he repeated. “He already went home to his girlfriend. And I have both room keys.” He chuckled softly and reached around your back to unclasp your bra, the fabric coming loose on your chest. “So relax.”

You nodded and lifted your arms for him to pull it off, him letting it fall from his hand before kissing a path down the valley of your chest. His body moved down as he continued down to your stomach, then to your waist where his fingers hooked in your pants and slid them down your legs.

You kicked them off and opened your legs, allowing Trent to slip between them. He gently kissed your inner thigh, slowly working his way up until he reached the lacy fabric that covered your skin. He looked up, making and not breaking eye contact with you as he took the waistband between his teeth and tugged the fabric slowly down your legs. As he rose upwards, they and your pants were dropped to the floor.

Warm breath fanned the skin between your aching thighs, awaiting his touch oh, so impatiently. His fingers brushed the area, dragging themselves slowly up and down. His eyes flitted up to you, a faint grin playing on his lips before focusing back down.

“God, you’re wet,” he rasped, leaning down and settling his face between your thighs, your legs atop his shoulders. His hands wrapped around your outer thighs and gripped them, pulling you in promptly.

“Especially for someone who claims to hate me so much.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, “Think that’ll make me like you any more?”

“No, but maybe this will.”

With that, his mouth wrapped around your clit, tongue swirling around and eliciting a gasp of shock from your parted lips. Your eyes widened as he sucked gently, hands kneading the warm flesh of your thighs.

He then trailed downward, planting small, light kisses on the sensitive flesh, all before his tongue carefully parted your folds and delved slowly inside. Your fingers gingerly threaded into his strands, palm flattening itself on the back of his head as you pushed him down, your body weak with the need for more friction.

The hair that had recently grown above his lips brushed against your skin, rubbing back and forth forcefully and bringing meaning to the term, ‘hurts so good.’

“God, fuck,” you groaned, hands tenaciously gripping the sheets and his curls as his tongue moved in a rhythm that was just enough to make you long for more.

He lapped at you mercilessly, expert movements of his tongue coaxing soft moans from your mouth. A cocky grin stretched across his lips as he brought you to the brink, then pulled away, forcing a whimper from you at the loss of contact.

A large hand was removed from your thigh and brought between your legs, knuckles once again dragging lazily along the sensitive, needy skin, but refusing to give you the satisfaction of doing what you wanted most. He was teasing you; punishing you for the way in which you treated him earlier without giving him as much as a chance to prove himself.

“Trent,” you whined impatiently, hips writhing involuntarily against his bearded face.

“Mm…what?”

You refused to admit the irrevocable attraction you had to him because you didn’t want to let him win. And now he was being a bitch to you, just like you were to him. He chuckled softly and pressed the tip of his finger to your entrance, allowing you to feel the small bit of pressure that came with it. 

“Please,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his curls.

Enough was enough and he pushed the finger in, drawing a moan from your lips before adding another and thrusting them in and out with no room for complaint. The cold metal of his ring brushed against your sensitive inner walls and you gasped at the initial contact, your rampant mind having forgotten about the jewelry to begin with. And deep down, you loved it.

His mouth returned to your skin, tongue licking small stripes on the mound of flesh above his fingers, the scruff on his chin rubbing roughly against it. You knew you were going to have burns on your skin caused by his facial hair but you didn’t care; you just wanted to keep feeling him.

“Trent, don’t stop.”

He laughed quietly and sped up the pace of his fingers, urging you even closer to the edge. Your thighs closed in around his head, hand still pushing his head down. He hummed in satisfaction, the noise vibrating against your skin as he felt you clench around his long fingers.

His lips sucked on your clit in a steady pattern, causing your release to rip through you, prying a moan from deep within your stomach. You fisted the sheets tighter as your hips writhed against his face and fingers, legs beginning to shake from the pressure. Trent continued to work you through it, tongue lapping up the wetness that accumulated until you sunk back down into the mattress, spent.

Slowly he removed his fingers, first bringing them to his lips to lick them clean before rising back up. You inched backward on the bed until your head pressed against the pillow, Trent following and planting himself on his knees between your legs. His fingers reached down and fumbled with the buckle on his belt, eyes never leaving your body in the process. It wasn’t long before his belt haphazardly hit the floor, then his pants and his painfully hard cock was freed from its constraints. A rough palm placed itself on your knee, rubbing it slowly.

“Trent,” you swallowed, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Con—”

He raised his hand to cut you off, a gold wrapper resting comfortably between his index and middle fingers. The action having rendered you silent, he promptly took the foil between his teeth and pulled, spitting out the excess before taking out the latex and rolling it onto himself. You soon felt the pressure of him at your entrance, legs subconsciously widening to let him slip between them further, then heard the sound of him groaning as he pushed into you.

You swore it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

He leaned forward slowly, giving you just a moment’s time to adjust to his size as he stretched you out. Your breaths were unsteady, eyes screwed shut as your fingers maintained their forceful grip on the sheets around you. Your mind was racing, but you knew one thing for certain—the man was about to fucking blow it. His body hovered above yours as he kissed a path from your stomach up to your neck, hands pressing into the mattress on each side of you.

“Where did you,” you breathed, “get that?”

“Pocket,” he rasped, mustache brushing against your neck.

Eyes wide, you responded, “That’s not—”

“Relax,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “I put it in there today.”

Then you impatiently lifted a hand to the back of his head and pushed his lips onto yours, kissing him urgently and wordlessly telling him to just move. He obeyed your silent command and pushed his hips into yours, burying his dick into you before pulling back, leaving only the tip inside. He repeated the process at a steady, slow rhythm—tortuously slow, at that—until your back was arching, hand in his hair sliding down to his shoulder blade as the long, coffin-shaped nails dug into his soft skin. The chain that you’d noticed earlier tapped against your cheek, the feeling provoking you to throw your head back against the pillow.

His hand slid up your front, fingers curling around to the nape of your neck and thumb resting under your chin once again, pulling your head back up as he quickened his pace, driving into you with more force. Every inch of his thick cock slid smoothly along your velvety walls, your mouth frozen in its open state as his lips worked at your neck again. And god, you just couldn’t understand what made you hate that guy in the first place. It must have slipped your mind completely.

Upon the first thrust of his hips, he felt just how tight you enveloped him. The immense pressure of you wrapped around his strained length, practically squeezing it. The age-old trick of conjuring up the most repulsive of thoughts seemed nothing but moronic to him in the past, yet for some reason he found himself naming off presidents in his head to prevent from coming so fucking soon. He only wished that he could feel it; really feel it, if it weren’t for that godforsaken rubber that separated him from you.

And he’d make it his mission to do so, whether you lived five hundred miles away or not.

He just hoped he’d last when he finally did.

The hand around your throat closed just slightly, using just enough pressure to threaten your intake of breath without causing any pain. It was delicious. You didn’t have the will to fight it—your body had already submitted to him long before, and there wasn’t much that you could focus on other than the feeling of him roughly thrusting into you, lips marking up one side of your neck while his hand firmly gripped the other.

The sounds of your mixed moans bounced off of the walls and you began to wonder whether anyone could hear it or not; if any of his teammates were close by, walking back to their rooms from the bar. The thought instilled enough fear for you to weakly voice it.

“What if—ah—what if someone hears us?”

“Let them,” he rasped, kissing behind your ear.

“But—”

“God, shut up,” he pushed his lips to yours, swallowing your words, moans, and expletives that threatened to destroy your mediocre attempt to stay quiet. His tongue rolled over yours, low hums reverberating in your mouth and filling your ears.

Finally, he released his hold from your neck, allowing the air to flow smoothly into your lungs once more. The hand reached for yours, roughly threading his fingers between yours before pushing the two forward and pinning the back of your hand to the headboard behind you. You let out a whimper at the sudden contact but quickly gripped his hand with a matching force to his as he hit the sweet spot inside you and a familiar pit in your stomach formed.

“Close,” you panted, back arching off of the bed and forcing your front to press firmly into his.

“I know,” he told you, grip tightening as the taut line in your stomach snapped.

His mouth enveloped yours again to swallow your noises, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. Your inner walls constricted around his length as you hit your climax, nails digging into his back as you grasped desperately at him for stability, support—any sort of strength that he could provide you with. And he did, grunting sporadically as he fucked you through your second orgasm, thrusts growing sloppier.

It wasn’t long before he twitched inside you, hitting his own peak and letting out a deep moan. Your name—to your surprise—left his lips in a slurred form, repeating it softly as if it were a hymn. Sweat coated your forehead, droplets dripping slowly down your face, and the frontward strands of your hair had grown wet. His curls dripped with his own sweat as his lips hovered just centimeters above yours, warm breath fanning your face and gaze aligning with yours.

You finally swallowed, “Wow.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, hand letting go of yours and gently running up and down your side.

He waited a moment and carefully pulled out, the action drawing your eyes shut before he slipped off the used latex and disposed of it. You adjusted yourself as he did so, ridding the bed of the towel and briefly cleaning yourself up before you felt a piece of fabric hit your arm. You looked down to see a large, black t-shirt on the bed and grabbed it, quickly slipping it on as he walked back over. He motioned you under the sheets and you silently obliged.

Your back pressed against his chest, chain pressing into the skin as an arm wrapped around you and a hand flattened on your stomach. His other fingers pushed your hair to the side, exposing the skin to his eyes, and he saw the faint marks his fingers left on your neck. A pair of lips brushed against your ear and the soft rasp of his voice returned.

“You know, that’s a Bruins shirt,” he teased, scruff grazing your damp skin as his lips connected with your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you flatly responded.

“Going against your word pretty fast, eh?”

“Yeah, well,” you started, nuzzling back into him. “I told you I hated you and ended up in your bed, so,” you turned to him slightly, “unreliable source.”

He chuckled softly and brought his fingers up to brush your hair back, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Night, Marner.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and he laughed one final time before closing his eyes and relaxing into you.

So, against everything that you stood for just hours before, you fell asleep in Trent Frederic’s arms without much forethought. In his shirt and his bed, effectively leaving your friends behind because they’d for some odd reason just slipped your mind completely.

And when Trent woke up the next morning, he was no longer in your company, much to his dismay. Any trace of your presence the night before had perished, down to the towel on the floor. But there was one thing—one saving grace that caught his eye as he scanned the room.

A piece of paper on the nightstand with a phone number scribbled on it and a small note below it that read,

“For the next time you’re in Toronto.”

[fannyyann]

Keeping up with the Florida Panthers (aka Sara Civian interviews Matthew)

EP Rinkside: What's something away from the rink that’s making you happy these days?

Matthew Tkachuk: I would say, just, I'm lucky at this time of year. Especially across the whole country, it seems like it's freezing everywhere. It's beautiful down in Florida. And we just moved into our new practice rink recently, so that's been awesome.

EP: There was a quote floating around from (head coach Paul Maurice) from before the nine-game win streak and before you started getting hot on the scoresheet. He said people are going to say “Matthew Tkachuk is back,” and he's going to say you never left. Did you see that?

MT: I did, yes.

EP: How did you feel about it, and what's your relationship with him like?

MT: Well, Paul's been a very important part of my last few years. He’s one of, if not the best, coaches that I've ever played with. He's been very important for my development, and I just think that he trusts my game, and I trust my game. I wouldn't say (the puck) was going in early, but I haven’t changed one thing, I'm still doing the exact same thing, it's just finding a little bit more success right now.

It’s been a great year for our team and as of late, it’s picking it up a little bit for myself. Hopefully, we can just keep trending into the second half of the year here.

EP: How important is that trust between a coach and a player and how is it developed?

MT: I just think that he's always given me the right leeway, but still expects me to play the right way. He knows that there's some parts of my game that (are unique) I need to maybe take a little bit more chances than the average player. He gives me full leeway to do that, but also expects me to work my butt off and to lead by example.

EP: We always talk about “buy-in,” it's kind of cliché at this point, and you guys obviously have that factor. But how does something like that start?

MT: I just think being so close to winning it all last year has made it very, very easy to come back this year and have that immediate buy-in from the guys wanting to win a championship here. So many returning guys who are so close and so upset with not finishing it off. There's a lot of motivation.

EP: Do you have a favourite moment from last season's run?

MT: I would say, probably all of the series-clinching wins, the series-winning goals. The overtime winner in Boston, the overtime winner in Toronto, the last second one at home against Carolina.

All three of those are by far the greatest goals I've ever been a part of.

EP: I feel like we're not as a society talking about Sam Bennett enough. Can you give us a little bit about what he's like off the ice and what it's like to play with him?

MT: He just plays so hard.

He was one of the first guys I met when coming to Calgary, and we've been so close ever since. I'm so happy that we got to play together again down here in Florida. He was the first guy I talked to when I got traded, and we've just been so close for eight-plus years now.

It’s so fun that we're able to play with each other still, we just have such great chemistry on and off the ice. He just plays so hard and he complements my game so well. And off the ice, we're just super close and have a great group of guys that pretty much do everything together away from the rink.

It makes it so much fun to come to the rink every day, work with them, and then when we leave the rink, do stuff together.

EP: If you became the commissioner of the league today, what's the first thing you'd change?

MT: Overtime until somebody scores. No shootouts. And no back-to-backs. I don't know if we need any more back-to-backs right now.

EP: Other than you, who has the best chirps in the league?

MT: I'd say the guy who chirps a lot on our team is Brandon Montour. He has some good ones. Nick Cousins has got some good ones. (Ryan) Lomberg, too. They all have some good ones.

EP: Best advice your dad ever gave you?

MT: Two things: Compete and be a good teammate.

EP: Last year you gained some recognition outside of the hockey world, and it kind of sparked, like, a debate about personality in the NHL. I've always wondered What you actually think about this whole conversation, like, do you like being kind of the personality guy in the NHL?

MT: Well, I’m never going to not be myself. I grew up with great parents that taught me great things and around a great family. I’ll carry that for the rest of my life. I’m not trying to do anything, and some guys are (quieter) and that’s OK. This is just how my personality is.

EP: Can you give me three words to describe the current Panthers?

MT: Oh, I would say very fast. So fast. Close – we’re a super close team.  I've never seen a team like this where, you know, we're going to dinner on the road and we're having, you know, 15 people reservations and everybody hanging out with each other. it's been awesome. Fast, close, and fun. Nobody has more fun than our team.

[heavenlyhischier]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐓𝐤𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐤

word count: 4.6k

summary: six months after you called things off with matt, you run into him at a party, but this time you’re with another man.

warnings: little angst, drinking is mentioned, MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT BELOW— smut, unprotected sex (use protection friends!!), hair pulling, spanking, orgasm denial, fingering, this is unedited so there might be some mistakes

note: matt is portrayed as kind of an asshole in the beginning but it’s for the plot. and he makes up for it in the end

You used to enjoy living in Miami. It was sunny, it was warm, you were always close to the beach, it was full of stuff to do. You’d made some amazing memories with some of the most amazing people you’d ever met. You’d even landed the job you’d always wanted.

Now, you hated everything about it. You hated how the sun was always beating down on you. You hated how it was always hot and sticky outside. You hated the crowded beaches that attracted too many tourists. You hated how full of life it always was. You absolutely hated living in Miami, and it was all because of Matthew Tkachuk, left winger on the Florida Panthers.

You’d met Matthew through a friend who worked with a girl whose husband played for the same team as him, and she set the two of you up on a blind date. You should’ve known that it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you when he’d shown up fifteen minutes late and subtly flirted with the waitress the entire time you were there. Despite that, you found yourself gravitating towards him and falling for him harder than you’d anticipated because of course you did; it was Matthew Fucking Tkachuk.

Something about the 6’2 man completely enamored you in a way that left you blind to his actions. You never truly understood the phrase rose colored glasses until you’d met him. You initially turned a blind eye to his unwillingness to communicate, to the way he would make time for others and not you, to the way he would leave your texts unanswered for sometimes days at a time. Until you didn’t. 

After nearly a year of dealing with Matt’s blatant disregard for you, you finally decided that you’d had enough of his bullshit. If he was going to ask you to be exclusive and available to only him, but not enact the same rule himself (though he tried to say that he had), then you were done. You decided to send him a text ending whatever your relationship could be labeled as and told him to just throw away anything you’d left at his place before proceeding you block him on everything.

Texting him your “breakup” message wasn’t ideal, and probably a little immature, but you felt like you didn’t owe him anything more than that. After all, he barely had time to see you, so you figured that since you wanted to get it done before you talked yourself out of it, that was the best way to do it. Though, there was no ignoring the aching pain in your chest as the days came and went and Matthew Tkachuk was no longer a part of your life.

You knew that breaking away from the hold he had on you was what you needed, but that didn’t ease your heartache. You missed him every day you didn’t have him, and you were constantly in need of reminding yourself that it was better this way. That you needed to move on. That clearly Matt was emotionally unavailable and, no matter how badly you wanted it to be him, it wasn’t fair to you. But now, you hated the city you once loved because every street corner, every restaurant, every beach, was a reminder of him.

The first four months were the hardest. You stopped going out, you stopped putting as much effort into your work, and you stopped taking care of yourself. It wasn’t until Alicia showed up at your apartment one random afternoon telling you that you needed to stop feeling sorry for yourself, get off your ass and get your life back on track.

After you cried on your couch for nearly an hour, you accepted that she was right. You’d booked a hair appointment for the following day to clean up the nasty split ends that decorated the ends of your hair, and spent the remainder of the day cleaning your apartment. You threw yourself back into your work, doing your best in everything that was asked of you, and even going beyond that as well. You started going out with your friends again, and you even met a guy, Sam, you’ve been casually dating for about a month now.

Sam was nice. He opened doors for you, he held your hand, he made time for you, he even called you when he got too busy but wanted to talk to you before it was too late and you’d fallen asleep. Truthfully, he was a perfect guy, but you were constantly comparing him to Matt. He didn’t make you feel the way Matt felt. With Sam, things were tame and they were safe. With Matt, things were electric and they were passionate.

Despite knowing that, deep down, things with Sam were undoubtedly going to go nowhere, you still enjoyed the time you had with him. You would let him take you out, you would let him in your bed, though the escapades that ensued between your bedroom walls would never come close to him, and you would even hang out with his friends. That was how you ended up in the bar you were currently in, clad in a last minute costume with sweaty bodies pressed against you as soon as you’d walked inside.

Matt had seen you as soon as you’d walked through the doors, and he felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. It’s been over six months since he’d seen you last, but the effect you had on him was still latched onto his heart. His eyes dragged over your body, admiring the way your dress stuck to you in all the right places and displayed the thighs that used to wrap around his head. You had completely entranced him, like you always had, and he almost couldn’t look away. Almost. 

Matt had never been a jealous person, but that was before he watched as a man who looked as if he’d never seen the inside of a gym wrapped his arm around your shoulders and place a gentle kiss to your lips. He watched as you smiled up at him, but he noticed that it didn’t quite reach your eyes. He knew what your smile looked like, and that wasn’t it. Matthew had to force himself to look away when the man’s hand wandered down too far, or he was sure he would’ve done something that would have gotten him in trouble. Matt was never a jealous person, but that was before you. 

You thought you saw him, yet when you had turned back around you were only met with unfamiliar faces, but you knew it was him. He was the only person who could make you feel like a fire had been lit inside of you with just a look. He was the only person who could make you ache for him with just his eyes. You knew it was him. Even as Sam dragged you to his group of friends, all you could think about was where Matt was, and if he was here with someone just like you were.

No matter how hard you tried not to, you couldn’t help but search for him in the sea of people. You’d managed to find a few of his hockey teammates, but he was nowhere to be seen. The disappointment bubbling in your chest was a feeling you tried to suppress, but there was no point. You knew that you’re the one that ended things with him, but that didn’t mean the feelings you had for him ever went away. They’ve just been dormant, lying underneath the surface, waiting for the moment to break free again, and this was their moment.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” You yelled over the music, standing on your toes so that you were near Sam’s ear. 

“You okay,” He pulled his brows together as he looked down at you, hand placed on your lower back, “Do you want someone to go with you?”

“No, I’m okay! I’ll be okay,” You politely smiled, delicately kissing his cheek before you turned away. 

You carefully weaved through the maze of bodies that were sticky with a mixture of sweat and alcohol clinging to their skin. Not bothering to mutter any sort of apology as you nearly pushed into people, you kept your eyes straight in front of you as you neared the hallway where the bathrooms were. You were nearing the back of the line when you felt someone take your hand in their own and begin to drag you past the queue for the restroom.

A brief bout of panic settled in your stomach as your eyes widened, but when your eyes darted up to see an all too familiar mess of untamed curls, that feeling morphed into twisted excitement. You squeezed Matt’s hand as he tugged you further down the hall as a way to acknowledge him, an action the both of you had done when he would take you out when the two of you were whatever you were. You felt his hand tighten around yours, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Though, you quickly brought yourself back to reality and reminded yourself that you weren’t with Matt anymore. In fact, you were with Sam, who was innocently waiting for you to return from the bathroom while you let your ex-whatever take you somewhere unknown. Guilt formed in your throat as you tried to get yourself to tell Matt to let you go, but you didn't have time to convince yourself to actually do it before he was shoving you into an empty, private bathroom and locking the door. 

“Matt,” You breathed out as he placed his hands on either side of you, encasing you between the door and his body, “What are you doing?”

“You blocked me,” He started, his eyes betraying the hard set of his jaw.

You swallowed thickly, eyed remaining on his own as you let yourself take him in. He had let his beard grow out slightly since the last time you’d seen a picture of him, and it left you questioning why you ever told him you didn’t like it before. He was grinding his teeth as he waited for your response, but his eyes told the real story of how he felt. They always have.

“I had to,” You whispered, heart slamming against your ribs as he pushed himself against you, “You weren’t good for me, Matthew.”

The corners of his mouth twitched at the use of his full name, the smirk you missed more deeply than you cared to admit threatening to make an appearance. You always called him that when you were trying to be serious, but he couldn’t help but find it amusing. His tongue swiped across his lips as he dropped one of his hands and grazed the exposed skin of your thigh with his fingertips. 

“And what? That guy out there is,” He cocked his head, tone taunting and teasing as he watched you squirm underneath him from just a passing touch.

“Ye-Yeah, he is,” You stuttered, eyelids fluttering as he slightly pushed the fabric of your dress up your thighs.

Matt quietly hummed as he bunched the material of your dress right at your hips, exposing the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear. Your cheeks flared red as his eyes dropped down to your naked center, embarrassment crawling across your skin as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. He felt your body shudder beneath him when he firmly gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his chest as he leaned down.

“Yeah, I bet he is,” Matt whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “I bet he’s real nice. He the reason you’re not wearing any panties tonight?”

You felt his hand gently push your legs apart, and you hated just how willing you were to let him. You knew this wasn’t going to end well for you, that you were just going to end the night empty and heart broken like every night you spent with him before. Still, you couldn’t find the desire to push him away, because you didn’t want to. No matter how loud the sensible part of you screamed to run away, you had no intention of leaving the room before he was done with you.

His fingers trailed up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before they stopped at the one spot you needed him most, “Does he touch you like I did?”

You let out a desperate whine, shifting your hips just enough that his hand was nearly touching you, but Matt simply tightened his grip on you with his other hand and held you in place. He briefly glanced to your chest, watching the way the rise and fall of your chest quickened with every twitch of his finger. Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth as you peered up at him, waiting for him to do something, anything. 

Matt couldn’t help but capture your lips with his own, and it slightly startled you, but you were quick to lean into it just as much as he had. Your hands came to grip his biceps as he put everything he had felt over the last six months into that kiss; it was blinding, overwhelming, full of everything he was too scared to admit out loud.

“You never answered my question, baby,” Matt mumbled against your lips as he slid his fingers through the wetness between your folds, “Does he touch you like I did? Does he fuck you like I did?”

The second he touched you, it was like the ability to think properly drifted away from you. The only thing that you could think about was the way Matt’s fingers felt between your thighs and the small jolts that shot through your body when he brushed against your clit. His other hand was still gripping your hip, his fingernails slightly digging into the skin, sure to leave crescent shaped marks in their wake. 

Matt teased your entrance with his fingers, watching as you whined and writhed beneath him with a smirk on his face. He knew your body like the back of his own hand, and he knew exactly what you liked and where you liked it, but that doesn’t mean he was going to give it to you willingly. Had he seen you arrive alone, he might’ve been nicer, but he hadn’t. He’d seen you pressed against another man that looked like he didn’t even know where the clit was. 

“I’ll give you what you want, but you need to answer me first,” He baited, pressing his thumb to the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“No, Matty,” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head against the door, “No, he doesn’t. No one could.”

With your words going straight to Matt’s already hard cock, he plunges his middle finger into you and begins to rub circles against your clit. You let out a loud moan at the contact, a moan that he thought about every night since he’d gotten your breakup text. His finger moved inside of you, curling and prodding at your walls as they clenched around the digit. Matt was glad he started with one finger because he wasn’t sure you could handle two just yet. 

“You’re so tight, baby,” He groaned, “Have you even— Have you—”

“I have, but it wasn’t good,” You admitted through a broken moan, “He never made me feel good. Not like you could.”

Matt let out a low groan as he imagined a man leaving you unsatisfied. One thing about him was, he always made sure you finished before he did. He loved watching your face twist in pleasure and listening to the screams that he managed to pull from you as he pleasured you. The mere idea of you leaving the bathroom without finishing made him nauseous, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen if he could help it.

“Think you can take another,” He asked, the movement between your legs briefly faltering when your hips bucked against him and brushed his erection.

All you could manage was a weak nod, but that was all he needed for his ring finger to meet his middle as he fucked you with them. Your small fingers were gripping Matt’s bicep like your life depended on it, but in a way it did. You were using him to keep yourself grounded and steady, and the need for that only worsened when he inserted the second finger. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten as the tip of Matt’s fingers brushed against your g-spot, and your breathing became erratic and needy.

Matt could tell you were about to be pushed over the edge, and as much as he’d wanted you to finish right then, he wanted to be inside of you when you did. If he was reading things correctly, you hadn’t had an orgasm since the last time you had sex, and forcing you to go through two would’ve been torture on your body. Not that you cared, but he did. He wanted you to be able to properly walk out of the bathroom and hopefully leave the bar with him.

“What the fuck,” You hissed when Matt suddenly pulls his fingers out of you just as your orgasm was going to reach its peak.

He playfully rolled his eyes, his slick fingers brushing against your clit one last time before removing his hand and bringing it up to your mouth. He watched with hooded eyes as your mouth closed around his fingers, your tongue swirling around them as you sucked your own juices off. His cock was straining in his jeans at this point, throbbing and desperate to be buried inside of his favorite person.

“Good girl,” He murmured, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, a trail of saliva falling from your mouth, “Wanna be inside of you when you finish, yeah?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown as you peered at him through your thickly coated lashes. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly nodded before standing on your toes and slamming your lips on his. You quickly tangle your hands in his curly hair as he grabs your hips with his own. Roughly tug at the roots of his hair, you elicit a surprised grunt from him, and you use that as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. 

Matt’s fighting back the urge to smile as you kiss him, and he knows you are too. The both of you are letting yourself truly fall into how much you missed each other, and you’re channeling all of that emotion into the way you kiss him. It’s a desperate, hungry, teeth clashing kiss, but it was perfect. 

He’s pulling away, lips twitching as you let out a whine, “Bend over the sink for me before I cum in my pants.” 

An amused giggle escapes your lips, but you did as he asked and stepped around him. You catch his gaze in the mirror, and he looks like he’s absolutely ravishing you with his eyes. He’s drinking in every dip and curve of your body like he’s never seen it before and hadn’t memorized it the many times he had seen it. It made you feel good, the way he looked at you. It made you feel like you were sculpted just for him.

“Matty,” You begged, wiggling your ass towards him as your core ached for him to fill you.

“Patient. Let me look at you. Haven’t seen this in months,” He mumbled, hand coming to rub on the curvature of your back and down to your ass where he harshly slapped at the skin.

You were jolted forward, the stinging on your skin only making you want him more. Watching as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his legs, his stiff cock sprang free and nearly slapped against his stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you began wondering why you’d ever entertained the idea of another man when no one would ever compare to him.

He pumped himself in his hand a few times, eyes flicking to meet yours in the mirror as he slowly rubbed himself between the folds of your pussy.  A desperate sigh slipped through your plump lips as he teased you, his other hand kneading the flesh of your ass. You wanted to move your hips backwards and meet him halfway, but you knew Matt well enough to know that would only prolong what you truly wanted.

Keeping his eyes on you, Matt’s cock prodded at your entrance before he was slowly pushing into you. You dropped your head forward in a feeling of pure ecstasy, but he was quick to gather your hair in his hands in a makeshift ponytail and force your head up. Your

mouth was dropped open and eyes screwed tightly shut as he bottomed himself out. He let out a hiss mixed with a string of profanities as he felt you clench around him. 

“Matty, please move,” You cried out, pushing yourself further against him, “I need you to move.”

“Fuck, baby,” He grunted as you pushed your ass into him.

With one hand on your hip, and the other still grabbing your hair, Matt began to thrust himself inside of you. Your moans filled his ears as he found a pace that had you writhing below him. Matt’s cock hit your g-spot with every thrust, and you knew you weren’t going to last very long. Truthfully, you never did when it came to him. It was embarrassing how quickly he was always able to get you off, but it became a game at one point. Matt was determined to see how many times he could get you to cum in one night.  The result? Nine before you were begging him to stop. 

Your fingers grasped at the slippery porcelain of the sink as Matt slammed himself into you, his grip on your hair tightening as he pulled your head up. He wanted— No, he needed you to look in the mirror and watch as he fucked you so deeply that no other man could ever compare to him, but he was hopeful that there wouldn’t be another man after him.

Matt’s eyes were locked on your face in the mirror, admiring the way your face contorted with pleasure and the way the tears stained your cheeks. He couldn’t get you to open your eyes, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt around him and the fact that you were there.

The sound of his hips snapping into your ass mixed with the sounds of your screams and his moans filled the bathroom, and you knew that should anyone walk by, they were sure to hear it. Your walls were clenching around Matt as he hit the spot inside of you, your orgasm building for the second time that night. He could tell you were close, and so was he, but he wasn’t ready to stop just yet.

“Oh God, Ma-,” Your words were cut short as he delivered another pleasurable slap to your ass and as he slammed deeper into you, hitting your cervix in a way that hurt in the best way possible. 

“I know, baby. Just go ahead. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl,” He grunted, keeping his movement steady and orderly.

With a few more deep thrusts, your orgasm was washing over in a wave of euphoria. Your mind dizzied and your vision went black as Matt fucked your through your high. Your juices covered his cock, and Matt swore it was the sight alone that finally sent him over the edge. His hips stuttered against you as he shot thick ropes of cum into your throbbing pussy, his hand accidentally tugging on her hair a little too hard as he came.

Briefly stilling inside of you, dropping his hold on your hair he couldn’t help but stare at the way you looked like you’d been properly fucked for the first time in months. Your cheeks were flushed red, eyelids heavy, bottom lip nearly raw from you biting at it, and previously hair tamed hair now unkept and tangled. Pulling out of you, he carefully reached over and grabbed some paper towels to clean the mess between your legs.

You watch as Matt wipes away the juices on your thighs. You missed the way his curls would stick to his forehead with sweat after he’d had your way with you. You missed the way he would bite his bottom lip as he focused on cleaning you up. You missed him, but you’re not sure you could have him anymore. Just because he’d fucked you in the bathroom of a club doesn’t mean he’s changed, but you still had one question.

“Matty,” You quietly mumbled, nerves taking place in your stomach as you straightened your dress, “Was I not good enough or something? I just want to know so I can work on it I guess.”

Matt froze in his spot, his already cracked heart shattering as your words hit him with such force it was like being hit by a train. He snapped his gaze towards you, taking in how scared you looked as you waited for his response, and that was the first moment he truly realized that what he did wasn’t the right thing for you. He took two small steps towards you and took your face in his hands as he looked down at you, whispering your name like it held his entire world.

“You were more than enough, okay? It was me who wasn’t,” He started, shaking his head when you opened your mouth to speak, “From the moment I met you, I knew you were too good for me. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re everything that is good in the world, baby, and I was scared I would ruin that for you. My job, it isn’t exactly easy on relationships. 

“I’m gone a lot and even when I’m not, I feel like I don’t have enough free time. I love you more than I ever thought possible, and you deserve someone who can always be there for you. Someone who isn’t gone for days at a time and can be the man you deserve. I just— I felt like I didn’t deserve you and I handled that poorly, I know that now and I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”

You’re stunned, truly. The last thing you’d expected from Matt was for him to confess that he loved you. You expected him to send you on your way and kickstart the late night hookups you’d had before, but you weren’t entirely prepared for this. You knew you’d fallen for Matt a long time ago, it wasn’t a secret, and you knew that feeling never went away. Should you jump head first into the deep end without knowing if you’d ever resurface again? Or should you stay in the shallow water and go back out to the man you arrived with?

“I love you too, Matthew, but that wasn’t ever your decision to make,” You shook your eyes, eyes full of unshed tears. Matt’s heart clenched at the idea of this being your rejection, but you were quick to comfort him, “Now, take me home. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

i feel like this doesnt really make sense as a whole so im sorry lol but i hope you liked it!

[tkachuktkaching]

Some of the Matthew Quotes from his recent Interview

Fresh off eliminating the Tampa Bay Lightning in the first round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Panthers forward Matthew Tkachuk joined The Pat McAfee Show on ESPN to talk all things puck on Wednesday.

Still in amazement of Tkachuk’s toughness to play with a broken sternum during last year’s Stanley Cup Final, McAfee and his energetic band of co-hosts started the show talking about playing through pain.

“In the Stanley Cup Playoffs all bets are off and you do whatever you can to play,”

“He was fired up to see us beat Tampa the other day,” (talking of his dad)

“Growing up having him as a voice, as a role model, my brother and I were not forced to play hockey, but we had everything around us to help us grow into it and love the game. We had him around every day to ask about anything, help coach us, teach us, but I’d say the biggest thing that allowed my brother and I to make it to this level was each other. Having that unbelievably close relationship, being each other’s best friends, biggest supporters, and competitors as well.”

“One thing that I’m super grateful that my parents did, and my mom deserves so much credit because she was mainly the one getting up at 5 a.m. to take us to the 6 a.m. practices while my dad was on the road, was that we were never allowed to play hockey 24/7, 365 days like some of these kids do now,” said Tkachuk. “My parents were all about playing every sport you can. I think that’s what allowed me to not get burnt out and my love for the game kept growing and growing more.”

“Don’t touch Bob and there won’t be any problems,” When asked about Tampa Bay and the two goalie interference calls against the Lightning in Game 5.

“We are really excited to get a few days of rest and get rejuvenated, but it’s the playoffs and you just want to be out there playing,”

“Some of the best parts of playoffs are just hanging out with the boys in the lounges on the road and watching other games throughout the league.”

With three first-round matchups still ongoing, Tkachuk spoke on how hard it is to close things out.

“The fourth game in a playoff series is always the hardest to win because no matter what you are in the series, the other team is so desperate playing for their lives you have to find a way to match that or exceed that,” said Tkachuk.

Something that can help with closing out a series is playing in front of a home crowd.

“It’s a tough question because last year in playoffs are team was lights out on the road and it didn’t matter where we played,”

“When playing in Florida, we have such great fans and the building is so loud, I think home ice is important for us, having the extra potential game seven at home, you always want to have that at home. I think our fans are so loud and we’ve made this rink here in Florida a tough place to play, so I think home ice is important for our team, it’s an extra layer you can add to the series. I think we have great fans, so it’s important for us.”

Among the recent sellout crowds at Amerant Bank Arena, Miami Dolphins Jalen Ramsey and Jaylen Waddle have come out to support and hype up the crowd with the banging of the pre-game drum.

Knowing Waddle was there, Tkachuk told the show he was planning on a big goal celebration in salute of the fellow local superstar.

“If I scored I was going to do the ‘Waddle’ because he was there,” said Tkachuk. “He’s my favorite football player.”

While it didn’t happen that game, McAfee called for Tkachuk to bring in the dance celebration next time he lights the lamp.

[tkachukz]

I will take care of you -Matthew Tkachuk

-this is my first fic, be nice :) -english is not my first language, if I have something written wrong I'm sorry (and let me know so I can fix it and learn)

-words: 1.0 K

summary:  When you find out your boyfriend played the game 4 with a fractured sternum.

Millions of thoughts swirled through your clouded mind as you drove fast to Matthew's house.

The guilt haunted you. You are unable to attend either of the two games in Florida, due to work, that required you to travel to New York for the entire week. 

The television, however, was on for Game 3, and you saw Matt get knocked down in rough hit, feeling your heart sink when he was slow to get up, and even more when he was out for several minutes. Seeing him back on the ice at the end of the game - and still scoring a goal - brought a little peace. He wouldn't play injured right?

In the post-match call - which always happened when you was away - he looked tired, said that maybe he had a bad shoulder, but that he was fine.

The days were silent until game 4, and as much as you wanted to call he every second, you imagine he needed some time to focus better. You knew how important all that was to him.

In Game 4, you could tell from the first shift that he was hurt. Anyone could see. He would try to get away when a fight broke out, dodge hits, and skate for less time than usual. Despite this, the effort he put in was evident, but unfortunately, the Panthers lost that game.

He took a while to answer your call that night and your instincts already knew something was wrong. When the camera finally turned on, you felt your heart sink at the sight of Matthew's exhausted face on the screen. He dodged a bit, saying his shoulder must be dislocated or something. He repeated a million times that he was fine and that you didn't have to worry, and considering his tired face, you gave up and let him rest.

He didn't play Game 5, and calls for him filled his inbox in seconds. Only something very serious would take Matthew out of the game and you knew it. Hochey was his life, and his desire to help and impress not only his team and fans, but also his family - most notably his father. 

He called you at the end of the night, after the defeat.He was devastated, sadness shining in his blue eyes. Matt made the excuse that his shoulder had gotten worse, and even though you knew it was supposed to be more than that, you managed not to push him that night, you knew that would be the last thing he needed. 

In the rest of the call, you did everything to try to comfort him, and his eyes lit up thinking that in a few days you to would meet in Florida.

You were on the plane when the list of injured players came out. You knew Matthew's name would be there, but his injury took your breath away.

You walked into the house not bothering to close the door behind you, your heart almost bursting out of your mouth.

“Did you play with a fractured sternum?????”

Matthew's eyes bugged out. 

He was in the kitchen, standing drinking water, while Brady was eating cereal.

“I can explain” your boyfriend said in a wary voice.

You approached slowly, feeling your eyes sting. You placed your hands on his cheeks, still feeling the thick stubble. 

“I get so worried” your eyes conveyed all your emotions and you felt on the verge of tears.Matthew reached down slowly, wrapping his strongs arms around you in a soft embrace. 

You snuggled into him, keeping your arms light, afraid of hurting him. “You can hug me, I'm fine” he seemed to read your mind. 

“I read all about fractured sternum on the plane, are you in pain even to breathe?” your voice came out shaky.

 “It's not so bad now that you're here,” he said with a small smile, inhaling the scent of your hair as your arms caressed his back.

“I'm sorry for not being here last week. I'm so sorry about the end Matt. You deserved so much. I'm so proud of you” he adjusts to hear the words, feeling so close to the Stanley and still losing was an open wound, and you knew it would take time to heal.

“I'm glad you're here now. I'm going to need a lot of petting,” he said with a pout, pulling back a little to look at you, running a finger down your cheek to wipe away a dripping tear, “and I need help shaving, I don't trust Brady with anything sharp.”

"Hey!" Brady complained, still finishing his cereal.

“That reminds me” you walk away from Matt approaching the younger brother, depositing a cracking slap on his arm. 

"Hey! This hurt!” the big hockey player massaged his arm.

“How did you let him play injured Braeden Tkachuk!?!?” 

"He plays hurt and I'm the one who gets beat up???" 

"But of course! We are a team! You are responsible for taking care of him when I am away!!”

"That's right Brady, you should take care of me" Matthew teases him.

“You're lucky you're hurt, otherwise I'd punch you” he replies gruffly.

You let out a sigh, the dynamic of this family always entertained you.

“Come on, love, I'll take care of you” You approached Matthew, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw, and he returned one on the top of your head.

“Can you shave my beard?”

"Yes my love“

“Can I have a mustache?”

"No."

[stereax]

why do people hate vegas so much?

Do you want the Stereanalysis version or the short one?

The short answer is basically this: The Vegas Golden Knights entered the league and were expected to be hot garbage. Despite this, they had what many assumed was a "miracle" run in the 2018 playoffs, making it all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals, and have since established themselves as a consistent contender. Many haters of the Knights claim that Vegas was "gifted" a championship team from the onset (revisionist history at best), that Vegas didn't "go through years of pain" like most expansion teams (which, it's not their fault they're good?), and that the refs and Bettman want Vegas to win (which is said about 32 out of 32 teams in this league). Additionally, it's believed that a lot of Vegas fans are "fair-weather" and that they'll abandon the team when it doesn't do well, which ties into the theory that the NHL is "rigging" it for Vegas. Winning the Cup last year, over the undercat Florida Panthers to boot, angered many, especially due to Vegas's owner's bold prediction of "Cup in six [years]" made before their first season.

Additionally, Vegas's front office has a history of big deals. From trading fan favorite Fleury with no prior warning, leaving him to find out online; to the story of Haula, who literally showed up to practice and his keycard didn't work and that's how he learned he got traded three days before his wedding (but we don't talk about that one because Fleury is Fleury); to every single Vegas trade and trade deadline where they seem to acquire every big free agent and give up fairly little in return (Hertl, Hanifin, Quick, Barbashev, Eichel, Stone, Pacioretty, the list goes on). Many people can't divorce the front office from the team itself and get very upset when Vegas "poaches" the players they want.

On top of this, you have the "cap circumvention" narrative, claiming that players such as Stone are "faking" injuries so Vegas can do cap magic and add more players than they should be "allowed" to. First of all, the idea that players like Stone are faking injury is bullshit, especially in a league where players like Stutzle and J Hughes have outright stated that they played injured for long stretches of the season. Fun fact, the NHL does have doctors that run checks on LTIRed players and verify that they're truly injured. (The Leafs got into some hot water last offseason when they were LTIRing Murray and then later with Klingberg as well, as the NHL was suspicious that they had moved Murray's surgery date and recovery time to allow themselves to "bury" Murray's contract on LTIR for the season.) If anything, Stone was probably still hurt in the playoffs. The man is seemingly incapable of playing an 82-game season and yet people are screaming that he's faking injuries when he does get hurt. (Also, on cap circumvention: Nobody remembers Kucherov anymore but that was so much more blatant. Additionally, the league has considered closing LTIR "loopholes" several times now and several times has decided against it. Your team doesn't do it? Okay. It doesn't give you a moral high ground, though, as it is patently legal in the NHL rules to do so.)

Plus, there's definitely some disdain for the glitz and glamor of Vegas. Sparkly gold uniforms, City of Sin, pink flamingos, shiny golden helmets, elaborate pre-game shows where knights slay dragons, slot machines, glitter, all of that. I'm not going to bring up my personal theories here, but I'd advance the question to Vegas haters why they dislike the spectacle of Vegas, and whether that dislike also may apply to other areas where men may be associated with glitter, pink, sin, sparkles, and all that, such as, y'know, drag queens, or gay men more generally.

But hey, that's just a theory... a stereax theory.

[lfghughes]

hi!!!

could you do one with Matthew Tkachuk? Him and his girlfriend at a post-victory party, you walk away for a few seconds and a big, drunk man tries to hit on you in a rude way. Imagine a jealous and overprotective Tkachuk.

a/n: i feel like i say this a lot but this was one of the most fun things i've ever written so i hope you enjoy it. overprotective tkachuk might just be my favorite thing and yes i had to use this gif.

warning: cursing, alcohol, fighting, and slight smut mention at the very end

The boys were leading the series 3-0 and even though it was still early to celebrate because if anyone knew about making comebacks when you were down by 3 it was your boyfriends team. But you all still wanted to celebrate the fact that you made it this far into playoffs and you were one win away from going to the Stanley cup final. The pre-mature celebration was going to happen regardless and you knew if or when that final win happened you guys would do it all over again.

There were plenty of drinks going around the bar and well the Panthers team definitely knew how to get a party started here in South Florida. “Hey babe, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. Can you hold my drink?” You asked Matthew and he immediately grabbed your cup from you. Not only was he great on the ice but he made a fantastic bag holder and cup holder when needed. This was something you teased him about constantly.

On your way back from the bathroom you searched the crowd and it was hard to find Matthew in the mix of all the teammates and just regular people that were out but finally your eyes landed on him. As you were making your way back to him someone caught your arm and when you turned to see who you were a little surprised because it was some stranger. When you had first been grabbed you had figured it was one of the boys trying to get your attention but not a stranger. “Excuse me sir.” You pulled your arm away and immediately felt uncomfortable because you could tell this guy had way too much to drink.

“I was just wondering if I could buy a pretty girl like you a drink?” You should have just walked away and left the conversation as soon as you could but instead you shook your head. “I’m good! My boyfriend is holding my drink over there.” You pointed out to him but you realized Matthew was not where you last saw him. Now came the nerves. “Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate ya.”

Yeah, you needed to walk away but there were too many bodies around not letting you move but before you could even try to wriggle around people you saw the strangers body get pulled away from you and your boyfriend stepped in between you two. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been saying to my girlfriend but you need to leave her alone.” You were used to Matthews aggressiveness on the ice and you had seen his jealous side come out before but this was different.

“Go mind your own business, I was just offering to buy your pretty girlfriend a drink maybe she should be more appreciative.” This was going to get bad, you could tell by Matts body language and the way he tensed up. “She is my business so step back.” That should have been enough warning but clearly it wasn’t because the guy stepped forward closer. Before you could grab Matthew and walk away fists started flying and it took a solid five minutes before the security in the bar and the other boys could pull Matthew off the other.

It was no surprise that Matthew got asked to leave and you gladly left with him because this night had clearly gone down the drain. “I’m sorry for ruining your night out.” You told him quietly as you walked to the car. He stopped immediately, stepping in front of you and placing his hand gently on the side of your face. “You didn’t do anything, that guy was an ass.” A small smile grew on your lips as you looked up at him. “I will say it was pretty hot when you got all overprotective.” You pointed out and a smirk grew on his lips. “Oh yeah? Well I guess I should get us home so you can show me how hot you think I was.”

[toasttt11]

want

April 29, 2022

The whole team was out celebrating the game they just played against the Florida Panthers winning 10-2, Cole getting a hat trick and Brinley getting a hat trick and two assist. It was the last game the Canadians were playing for the season.

Brinley sat next to Nick and his long time girlfriend Caitlin in the booth in the corner of the bar. Most of the team was out dancing out on the dance floor, some scattered around flirting with girls, Brinely saw a four or five of the boys around a table taking shots and she wasn’t surprised to see Cole keep going back to the table to take more shots and then hurrying back to the dance floor.

Cole is usually the one to party the most on the team and many times Brinley has had to bring him home and get him into his bed.

Brinley put down her empty glass that was just a sofa as she likes to be completely when she goes out with her team so she can be a safe driver home for any of them and she isn’t the biggest on alcohol besides some wine here or there.

The team had been out for already a few hours way past midnight already and Brinley knew sooner than later the bar would be closing.

Brinley flinched slightly feeling a body fall on to her, she looked down seeing the remarkable color of Cole’s hair and relaxed slightly but still tense with Cole laying on top of her.

Cole’s face was buried into her stomach and drunkenly mumbling.

“Let’s get you home.” Brinley mumbled softly to a very drunk Cole and started to get up off the bench with Cole.

Nick and Caitlin shared a look both of them very close to Brinley and they could tell she felt more for Cole than she wanted to let on or even admit to herself, everyone already knew of Cole’s feelings for Brinley, even their coach knew how he felt for her.

Everyone assumed because Brinley never made a move or accepted anything from Cole, that she didn’t feel the same and was trying to let him off softly.

But a few knew that Brinley did feel something more for Cole, but knew she was scared of admitting that. Nick knew especially it was because of her captaincy and not wanting to affect Cole or the team.

Nick has seen how hard Brinley tries to keep a distance from Cole and be just platonic towards him but Nick also knew how stubborn Cole is and knew how persistent Cole can be and the second Cole got any hint that Brinley might feel the same for him he won’t give up.

Brinley softly helped Cole stand up and wrapped his arm around her neck helping him stand, she waved at Nick and Caitlin before heading out of the bar and to her car.

Brinley unlocked her car and opened the passenger door helping Cole in, she leaned over him buckling the seatbelt, she looked up seeing Cole watching her a soft look on his face, he reached his hand out towards her slowly.

“My pretty Meels.” Cole whispered softly gingerly stroking his fingers across her cheekbone and tucking her hair behind her ears.

Brinley froze slightly at his touch and words but shook it off and backed up letting his hand fall from her face she closed the door and walked around to the drivers seat.

She started the drive to Cole’s apartment. Brinley tried to ignore how she knew Cole’s eyes were on her the whole time she was driving them.

Brinley pulled into the parking spot shutting the car and hoping out, she opened the passenger door helping Cole out.

Brinley walked them up to his apartment, she put her hand into his pocket and grabbed his keys opening his door, she dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door and led him to his bedroom.

She pulled the coverts back and gently lowered him onto his bed and luckily for her he was wearing clothes he could comfortably sleep in and she didn’t have to worry about changing him. Brinley untied his shoes and slipped them off as well as his socks as she knows Cole hates sleeping with socks on.

Brinley walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen grabbing medicine and a glass of water and a bucket just in case.

Brinley headed back to his bedroom setting the bucket on the floor next to his bed and the medicine and water on his bedside table.

She walked around the bed shutting the curtains all the way so he didn’t wake up because of the light and she walked back grabbing his phone from his pocket and plugged it in and set it on his nightstand.

She gave him one more look seeing Cole started to fall asleep, she turned around before feeling his hand gently grab onto her wrist and she turned back around seeing him sleepy stare up at her.

“Stay please.” Cole whispered half asleep and very drunk looking up at her with glossy puppy eyes.

“You’re drunk.” Brinley hated how her heart skipped at the sight of him but shook her head knowing he was drunk.

“Not that drunk.” Cole pouted at her, “Why don’t you like me?” Cole slurred his words still looking like a kicked puppy.

“What! Of course i like you Cole.” Brinley looked baffled that Cole thought she didn’t like him and rushed her words out quickly.

“Yeah but you don’t like like me.” Cole pouted more as he whispered to her.

“You’re drunk.” Brinley ignored his words bending down and brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“No i’m not drunk,” Cole pouted but happily leaned into her soft touch, “You won’t date me.” Cole still pouted.

“You’re my teammate and i’m your captain.” Brinley sternly told him, sounding like she had said that sentence many times.

“So, i just want you.” Cole sassed and looked at her with hopeful eyes, “I just want you Meels.” Cole repeated softly as his eyes slowly started to flutter shut.

“I want you too.” Brinley mumbled softly admitting her feelings once she thought he felt asleep and she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before standing up and walking out the door.

Cole’s eyes fluttered opened slighty watching her walk out of his room.

[theywantedplayer]

May I request an angst with a happy ending. (Something like they lost connection a long time ago, but then they met each other again) with Mitch Marner please !💙

AN-Sorry that this took me so long. I like to do my requests in order from first to last hehe.

You were  nervous to say the least you haven't seen Mitch in over 2 years since your break up.   you're a social media manager for hockey teams, when you got this job you were still dating Mitch but you got relocated to a different hockey team the team being the Florida Panthers that was the whole reason why you and Mitch broke up you guys decided you couldn't do the distance.  but now you're back in Toronto now back  working with the Toronto Maple Leafs as their social media manager.

 you were excited to start working with the team again but you and Mitch had a lot of history, and knowing yourself  you still loved Mitch And you didn't know if you were going to be able to control yourself.

 you showed up to their 9:00 a.m. morning practice to take some videos and photos for the Twitter and tiktok account. you went and sat on their bench as you pulled out your camera and began to take some photos of the players. You've been texting back and forth with Auston  talking about the whole Mitch situation and how you were excited to come back to work.

You Started to take pictures of the players you looked through the lens of your camera as you were taking a photo of one player until you caught his face, your heart stopped as you moved away from your camera and looked at the player with your own eyes.

Mitch 

 this  was the first time you've seen him in person in 2 years. You didn't know if you should cry, be happy  or run over to him and slap him in the face for breaking your heart. You didn't do either of those, you just stood there. you were standing long enough that Mitch felt like someone was watching him and turned and made eye contact with you. He knew you were coming back but it doesn't mean he still wasn't surprised to see you. Should he go over and talk to you should you wave Mitch had no idea what to do. 

Later in the practice you were calling each player over one by one to ask them what their favorite Taylor Swift song for a tiktok. You were dreading it but you also couldn't lie you were a little bit excited to finally talk to Mitch. when one of the coaches told him to go to the bench you took a deep breath and got his attention.  he skated over to where you were standing

“Hey Mitch  I just got to ask you a question for The Tick Tock account” you told

“Ok shoot” He smiled 

“ what's your favorite Taylor Swift song”  you asked 

Mitch laughed in response 

“Y/n you already know” He laughed

You smiled Because it was true Micth played it every time in the car when you were together

“I know I know but it's for the tiktok” You smiled 

“Ok for the tiktok” He mocked making you laugh “My favorite Taylor Swift song is Enchanted by far” He answered 

You stop recording and put your phone in your pocket. Assuming Mitch  would skate away but when you looked back up he was still looking at you.

‘Sooo…. you excited to be back?” he asked 

“Yeah I very much prefer working here with you guys than I did with the Panthers” You Half joked

There was a long stretch of silence between you too, you didn't know what to say to break the ice. You could feel Mitch trying to make eye contact with you so you moved to meet him. There was a gentle smile on his face, as his eyes softened as you looked him in the eyes. You tried to hide your smile but Micth never failed to make you smile.

“I know it's weird” Micth spoke “ but I'm really glad you're back……….. really glad”

“I'm glad I'm back too” You shyly said 

Mitch shifted on his feet like he always did when he was a little uncomfortable and you couldn't blame him for being uncomfortable you also were a little bit.

“I really hope I'm not overstepping here” he said “ but me and some of the guys, we're going to go out to eat tonight………. do you maybe want to join” he asked 

Mitch was hoping you'd say yes. He wants to catch up, he wants to know what he's missed in your life. He wants to be part of your life like he used to be. Mitch Could see You weighing pros and cons in your head as you debated if you should go or not .

“Sure i'd like that” You decided

A grin spread across Mitch’s face when he heard your answer.

“You hope you still have my number, i'll text you tonight I'll pick you up” he yelled as he skated away

Of course you still have his number, you still have everything he gave you Even his jersey that he signed. Yeah you could have sold it out of anger and made at least a couple hundred bucks but you loved that Jersey as much as you loved him. 

[haddonfieldwhore]

hands to myself - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x reader

summary: you love watching your best friend play hockey, and he loves that it brings out your overprotective side

warnings: mentions of blood, language, one use of y/n, i think this one is gender neutral? idk it’s 3am

word count: 2.1k

you knew from the start that this game was going to get messy; maybe not tkachuk brawl messy, but close. the panthers were playing the flames, matthews former team, which always made for an interesting event. while you loved supporting your best friend, and tried to go see as many of his games as you could, it stressed you out beyond belief, only made worse by the fact that he had gotten injured at the end of last season. you knew he was a big boy, and could handle himself, but watching him have his sternum broken - and then play a game after - made you cringe a little harder everytime he got hit from then on.

if matthew had thought the lecture from his mother about playing while injured was bad, it was nothing compared to the hell you had unleashed when you found out; but he knew it came from a place of love. you had been by his side through his entire recovery, and it had made the two of you even more inseparable than you already had been.

it was still early in the first period when things started to get rough between the two teams, and you watched as matt was hit alongside the boards, and he stood up covering his mouth with his hand. to your surprise, no whistle blew, even as matthew shouted at the ref that there was blood, the contrast of the red dripping onto the white ice making it hard to miss. so it’s going to be that kind of night, you thought. the game was in calgary, and you were disappointed to see the linesmen showing favour to the flames so quickly into the game. matthew skated off to the bench, still catching blood in his hand as it fell from his lips, which you could read as he spat a ‘fuck off’ at one of the calgary players as he chirped him on his way past the florida bench. his eyes scanned the crowd and met yours, laughing despite the pain it caused his lip as you mouthed “what the fuck” at him. you knew damn well if matty had been the one to draw blood, there would have been a penalty, and he probably would’ve got the extra two minute minor as well.

as the game went on, you tuned out the sound of calgary fans cheering as one of their players slammed matt against the boards, and your body tensed instinctively as you heard the crash. he stood up with no visible damage, not hesitating to chirp the guy who had hit him. you knew getting hit was part of the game, but the amount of comments you saw online constantly celebrating when matt got hurt - or wishing worse injuries upon him - angered you beyond belief.

yeah, matthew was known to be a bit of a jerk on the ice, even you could admit that. but you couldn’t believe just how nasty and cruel some of the things people said were, which is why you had learned to stay out of comment sections, to protect your peace as much as possible. protecting your peace however, did not extend to you deciding to wear a tkachuk jersey into an arena of calgary fans, and you had been feeling the dirty looks from the surrounding population all night. you paid them no attention, keeping your focus on the game, growing more frustrated with each penalty the refs didn’t call on calgary.

after being tied for most of the game, the flames pulled ahead in the third, and you yelled in frustration as the officials awarded them a goal, despite their player missing the empty net thanks to floridas player, deciding that it was a trip and it would have gone in if not for the interference. you saw matthew swearing on the bench in frustration, and then watched him lead the team to the locker room as the time ran out in the clock, calgary securing the victory.

you met up with him outside the locker room a little while later, and your eyes landed quickly on the split in his bottom lip, the wound seemingly having opened up again in the shower.

“hey,” you said, as he pulled you into a hug, his body still warm from the game.

“hey,” he sighed. “are you ready to go? i can’t wait to get out of this place.”

“that makes two of us,” you laughed. matthew was very competitive, and you were sure the fact that his team hadn’t beat calgary since he was traded to florida was weighing heavy on his mind right now.

•

you walked into your hotel room, matty following close behind you, as you had invited him over to hang out for a bit. you were travelling with the team for a few days on this road trip, and while you were sharing a room with nina, nicks wife, you were sure she would be spending the night in his room with him. as you suspected, the room was empty, a note on the dresser confirming your suspicions. matt watched as you pulled the jersey with his number on the back over your head, leaving you in a tank top as you folded the jersey and tossed it on top of your suitcase.

“anyone give you shit for cheering for us?” he joked.

“i’m sure they did, but i was too busy watching to make sure the refs didn’t let anyone kill you out there,” you said, half joking.

“i’m fine, you worry too much,” he shrugged it off, but you could tell he was still a little pissed about the game.

“stop giving me reasons to worry about you,” you countered, walking over to where he was sat on the end of the bed. matthew began to reach for your hips as you stood between his legs, before he let his hands drop beside him, rethinking the action. “hang on- your lip split open again.” you walked into the bathroom, his eyes following you the whole time.

something about the way you always got so worried about him during games made his heart skip a beat. he thought back to one time you looked like you were ready to get onto the ice and fight someone for hitting him particularly hard into the boards, and there was still a lingering smile on his face when you walked back to him with a damp washcloth in your hand. you stood between his legs again, tilting his chin upwards slightly with your hand as you softly wiped the blood from his lip. this time, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your hips, and you didn’t think anything of the gesture; you were always clingy with eachother and often cuddling or touching in someway.

“sorry-“ you said as he pulled back, wincing slightly as you dabbed at the blood that had begun to dry on his mouth. “i can’t believe they didn’t call anything for this-“

“yeah,” he mumbled, not fully paying attention as he was too busy admiring you as you focused so intently on cleaning the injury.

“we both know damn well they would have called a penalty on you for the same thing.”

“maybe i have my reputation to blame for that.”

“or the linesmen were playing favourites. you know, maybe if you wore your mouth guard properly-“

he dug his fingertips softly into your sides, interrupting you and causing you to finally notice that his hands were on you.

“don’t start with that,” he laughed. “thank you.”

“anytime. but try not to make a habit of getting bloody, okay? even if it’s kinda hot,” you teased, and he raised an eyebrow.

“is it?” he asked, pulling you closer until you straddled his lap, and you froze; you hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“i- uh…,” you stuttered as he took the washcloth from your hand and tossed it onto the floor, before his arms wrapped around you again making sure you didn’t fall. “matty-“

“you know, it’s kinda cute when you get all over-protective?”

“i’m not overprotective-“ you argued. “i just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“is that why you look like you wanna kill anyone who checks me into the boards? i can take a hit, you don’t have to worry about me so much,” he insisted for the thousandth time. you placed your hands on either side of his face, looking at the bruise that was beginning to form around his lip. you pushed the curls at his forehead back with your fingers.

“is it that noticeable?” you laughed, and he smiled, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. you laid next to eachother, looking up at the ceiling.

“no, i mean, only a few of the guys tease me about you being my personal security detail-“ he teased, and you whacked his chest with one of the pillows.

“matt! that’s not funny!”

“okay okay, only verhaeghe does-“

“matthew!” you pleaded, and he laughed.

“i’m joking. i appreciate how much you care about me,” he said honestly.

“i just hate that there’s nothing i can do to stop you from getting hurt. and that there’s people who would celebrate it if you did.” you sighed, and he rolled into his side to look at you, a puzzled look on his face.

“why does that matter? i mean, who cares what they think?”

“i don’t know, i just-“ you sighed, not sure of what to say. “i love you matty, and i don’t want anything to happen to you.” matt’s blue eyes met yours before he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin as he held you tight.

“i love you, too. try not to worry about me so much, okay? and maybe i’ll try not to piss so many people off so you don’t have to.”

“okay, let’s not be unrealistic here-“ you teased.

“hey,” he cautioned, and you both laughed. “get some sleep, okay? and seriously, i’m okay.”

“okay,” you sighed, snuggling into his chest as he pulled the blankets over your tangled legs. “goodnight matty. i love you,” you mumbled sleepily. you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, and he winced as it stung the cut on his lip, but he smiled anyway.

“goodnight, i love you too,” he replied, and he meant it even more than you knew.

•

in a room down the hall, sam bennett woke up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. he looked across the room to see the other double bed still neatly made, the blankets untouched. he ran a hand over his face, cursing as he wondered where his roommate was, because he clearly had not slept here. he scrolled through his phone and sent a text to matthew, asking where he was, before he got dressed and went out in the hallway and nearly ran into nick.

“morning. do you know where chucky is?” he asked, thinking maybe nick had seen his missing roommate, but he shook his head. nina appeared behind her husband, the two of them on their way to the lobby for breakfast, when she pulled a room key out of her purse.

“i have a feeling i know where we’ll find him.”

sure enough, after hearing no response to a few knocks on the door and a handful of text messages, the trio entered your room to find you and matt still curled up in bed together, both fast asleep. it wasn’t an unusual sight, and nina smiled at the two of you before dragging to two men out of the room and back into the hallway.

“see, he’s safe,” she laughed, as the three of them made their way to grab breakfast.

“should’ve known they’d be together,” sam shook his head. “do you think they realize they’re in love with eachother?”

“you’ve known them longer than i have, what do you think?” nick replied.

“maybe,” he shrugged.

“what if they’re already dating and just haven’t told anyone?” nina suggested.

“while that would explain the death stares y/n was throwing at the ref last night, i don’t think chucky’s that good of a liar.” sam decided. they all agreed, laughing as they came to the conclusion that if you were in fact together, matthew would never shut up about you; more than he already didn’t.

oblivious to the discussion going on downstairs, matt stirred softly, a smile spreading across his face as he looked at you in his arms. if he could wake up to this everyday, he would, the sound of your soft snores and the warmth of your arms as you clung to him making his heart rate speed up. while it was clear to everyone else, it was anyone’s guess how long it would take the two of you two realize you were in love with eachother. until then, matt was content with being the guy you were overprotective of, and that wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[fannyyann]

Aleksander Barkov's impact on the Panthers, and how he's taken the mantle as best two-way player in the NHL Dimitri Filipovic

Patrice Bergeron’s departure from the NHL this past summer obviously left a massive opening atop the Boston Bruins depth chart down the middle that would be difficult to fill, which they’ve remarkably done one heck of a job of patching together thus far. 

But it also created a void every bit as glaring atop the Selke Trophy conversation as well. He’d won the award in each of the past two seasons quite decisively, totalling 187 out of 196 possible first-place votes last season. Even as he crept into his late 30s, he truly cemented himself as the gold standard of two-way excellence, consistently operating at a level that was simply unmatched by his peers. 

His retirement created an opportunity for someone from the current crop to step up and take that mantle though, and if the first 30 games or so this year are any indication, that role appears to have been filled rather admirably by Aleksander Barkov.

It’s certainly fitting that it would be him, considering that he’s the last active player to have won the award, but the heights he’s taken his game to in doing so are still awfully impressive.

What he’s doing right now would make even Bergeron blush, distancing himself from pretty much everyone else at his position much like his predecessor had made a habit of doing. The on-ice numbers Barkov boasts right now are downright staggering. In his 323 5-on-5 minutes, here’s how the Florida Panthers have fared:

Goals: 23-5 differential

High Danger Chances: 74-46 differential

Shots: 60.5 percent share

Expected Goals: 61.0 percent share

To put his dominance into even further context, he’s already scored six times himself, which means that he’s currently scored more goals than he’s allowed all of his opponents to muster combined. It’s also worth noting that without him out there, the Panthers are getting outscored 38-29. How they play with him on the ice and without him are two entirely different things, which speaks to his impact. He does it with the degree of difficulty ratcheted all the way up, chewing up heavy minutes against the other team’s top players while shouldering an immense amount of responsibility. 

And despite all of that, he’s still taken just three penalties (while drawing six of his own), finding a way to artfully poke and prod constantly with that pole vaulting apparatus he calls a hockey stick without ever crossing the line. It’s legitimately impressive that he can legally challenge puck carriers with the sheer volume of stick checks that he does, considering how much the league has mandated cracking down on anything even remotely near the hands. It allows him to craftily execute takeaways, while still staying on the ice, which is doubly important for a Panthers team that takes a bunch of penalties otherwise. That seems like a small perk in the grand scheme of things, but it actually ranks as one of my favourites about his game.  

He’s spent the majority of the season with Sam Reinhart and Evan Rodrigues on his flanks, and that trio has been the best line in hockey. In just under 200 minutes together, they’re up 19-3. Rodrigues has been underrated for years, and it’s great to see him finally find a long-term fit this season in Florida. Reinhart is tied with Kyle Connor for fourth in goals, currently on pace to score 50 times. The timing of his spike in shooting percentage couldn’t be better in a contract year, but he’s been so good for so long now, that he deserves to be rewarded for it. Plus, he’s such a smart player that I could see him aging quite gracefully into his 30s, the way that someone like Joe Pavelski has.

I love both players, so don’t take it as diminishing their contributions when I say that the reason all of it is possible for Florida is because of Barkov. His skill set is so unique, and such an enabler for everyone in his orbit. 

The two things that the Panthers have become synonymous with as an organization during this run of success have been a) their supremely aggressive forechecking, and b) their uncanny ability to keep bringing in castoffs from other teams and immediately juicing their production beyond what we had any reason to believe they were capable of at this point.

What they’ve been able to pull off to start the season almost surely hasn’t received nearly enough nationally. The team started the year without having Aaron Ekblad and Brandon Montour available for the first 15 games, who are clearly two of their three best defenders (you’ll see them referred to as their two best, but that’s Gustav Forsling erasure and we don’t stand for that here). Yet they’re currently 17-9-2 on the season, sitting in a tie with the Colorado Avalanche for eighth in the league in points percentage, with the sixth best goal differential. And despite those early absences, much of that success can be directly attributed to the team’s defensive performance. 

Only the Vegas Golden Knights, Winnipeg Jets, and Vancouver Canucks are giving up fewer goals than them at 5-on-5, and they’re sixth in fewest goals against surrendered on a per-minute basis overall. According to Sportlogiq, here’s how they grade out in all of the key categories we care about:

Expected Goals Against: 3rd

Slot Shots: 2nd

Inner Slot Shots: 5th

Offensive Zone Possession Time Allowed: 2nd

By any important marker, they’ve graded out as one of the best defensive teams in the league. Which almost seems impossible based on the aforementioned injuries, and the personnel they’ve largely leaned on along the way. Their top four players in total 5-on-5 ice time so far are Forsling, Niko Mikkola, Oliver Ekman Larsson, and Dmitri Kulikov. The three latter names were free agent signings, who they were able to bring in this past summer for a combined $5.75 million. So how exactly are the Panthers able to keep churning out these types of results then?

Every possible explanation keeps circling back to Barkov, because he represents the throughline that ties everything together for them. The reason why everyone they bring in thrives is because they get to play such a simple, fun brand of hockey. All they’re required to do is to keep unapologetically plowing ahead aggressively, and relentlessly, over and over again. 

The wingers are asked to forecheck as hard as they can, closing off walls and forcing the other team to try to make plays up the middle. That plays right into Barkov’s waiting hands, where his range allows him to cover ground like a ball-hawking safety in football. The defencemen get to pinch down the wall and try to extend plays in the offensive zone, knowing that Barkov will be there to cover them with support because he religiously stays above the puck. 

Barkov's 10 goals and 28 points in 25 games are obviously fantastic, and 99 percent of players in the league would kill to have that stat line. That said, it feels like he's capable of so much more offensively because of how much raw puck skill he possesses. And he honestly probably is, if he were wired differently. But whereas some of his peers may cheat for offence and stay deep in the zone until the last possible second to see possible scoring plays through to their conclusion, he instead circles back to get into the right position defensively proactively.

It's a calculated sacrifice on his part, and it's because of those choices he routinely makes that the scales get tilted in his teammates' favour. Regardless of who you are, because of his habits you now get to freely move forward and attack. With such a simplified decision-making process, everyone that comes to Florida gets to tap into the physical tools that helped get them to the NHL in the first place, without having to worry about some of the other complexities that might’ve inhibited them in their previous stops on other teams. 

The result of creating that sort of infrastructure is a massive competitive advantage for the Panthers. They’re able to routinely shop in the bargain bin, and squeeze value out of sources that might not be as readily available for the competition. That’s turned into quite the luxury for a franchise that hasn’t exactly had a lot of financial flexibility of late, having to turn over the roster and find a way to make the cap figures work creatively. 

Everyone involved deserves their fair share of the credit for creating an environment where that’s possible, but none moreso than Aleksander Barkov. Great players make those around them better, and that’s exactly what he’s done in Florida. By doing so, he's cemented himself as the preeminent two-way center in today's game.

[senditcolton]

From Eden

a/n: i know some of y’all are getting sick of this man... but i’m not. in fact, i’m becoming more obsessed with him.  word count: 1.5k warnings: references to you and matty sharing a ‘benefits’ type of relationship. besides that, nothing! gender-neutral reader!

No tired sigh, no rolling eyes, no irony.

“Keeping my seat warm, darling?”

The laughter that was on your lips died the instant you heard his voice raise above the shouts and joy of the rest of the families around you. And when you turn on the barstool located in Aleksander Barkov’s backyard, you come face to face with Matthew, wearing that stupid smug smirk on his face.

You try to focus on that smirk, no matter how much it irritated you. Because if you let your eyes wander down to his bare chest that still had droplets of water from the pool clinging to his skin… well, you couldn’t think about that. Not if you wanted to prevent yourself from acting the fool.

Not if you wanted everyone here to know about you and Matthew’s little secret.

So, you slip back into the carefully constructed mask that you had worn for the past few months, letting your eyebrow raise in contempt.

“Yours? Last time I checked, I was sitting in Sasha’s backyard so, it’s his seat more than it is yours or mine.”

“Getting all technical on me, I see.”

“Just stating facts, Matty.”

The nickname is out of your mouth before you can pull it back in. And you can Matthew noticed from the way his eyes sparkled and that damnable smirk grew wider. You just pray that the few teammates around you were oblivious, not paying much attention to the verbal sparring match that they should be used to by now.

“Since when did you start calling Chucky anything but Matthew?” Carter asked, calling more interested glances to be sent in your direction.

So much for them not paying attention.

“I guess I’ve had too much to drink,” you reply, emphasizing your excuse with the lazy wave of your – thankfully – empty beer bottle.

“Well, you should have some more,” Matthew says with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“Why? You want to hear me saying your name?” you tease.

“Much rather hear you screaming it,” he chirps back. His bold statement almost, almost, has you fumbling. Weirdly, it’s the hoots and jeers from the boys around you that steady you.

“In your dreams, Matthew,” you scoff, sliding off your chair and making your way towards the kitchen. Although, Matt calls after you, never content on you having the last word.

“My dreams often come true!”

You hear the boys laugh again and you have to fight the heat that creeps up the back of your neck. Not in embarrassment, no; the rest of the team treated you like family and you knew that they meant everything in jest. The heat appeared because… the rest of the boys had no idea how right Matthew was.

When you first met him, he was a pest. Truly lived up to his reputation. Although, perhaps that night you hadn’t made the greatest first impression. You expected a night out with the boys after a very stressful work day. You hadn’t planned on being forced to go through awkward introductions.

But the past happened and that initial meeting became how you and Matthew moved through the world; with chirps and snark and always a hint of annoyance.

Until a night after a Panther win, where the adrenaline and alcohol were at an all time high, and Matt ended up kissing you. And you liked it. You really liked it.

One thing led to another and now, here you were. Regularly sleeping with the newest star of South Florida all while still acting like he annoyed the shit out of you whenever the two of you weren’t behind closed doors.

You sigh as you walk into the empty air-conditioned kitchen, not wanting to get trapped in the questions that came with whatever you and Matthew shared. It was hard enough pretending to hate him. You didn’t want to push on the possibility of you liking him more than just a hookup.

Although, you think you might really like him. Like that.

Another sigh escapes as you grab a beer from the refrigerator, absentmindedly grabbing the bottle opener from the island, going through the motions. You are so lost in thought that you don’t even hear the door opening and realize someone else was in the kitchen. Not until a pair of strong hands land on your hips.

You slightly jump, pulling away and spinning only to come face-to-face once again with Matthew.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyes darting out the windows towards the crowd in the backyard. A small rush of relief runs through you when you realize they were thankfully still oblivious.

You look back to Matthew, who’s initial smirk has turned into that gentle smile. It was a smile that you had found yourself waking up to on occasion, when the morning Florida sun creeped in through the blinds of his bedroom.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just really pretty,” he replies, punctuating his words by hooking his fingers through your belt loops and pulling your hips flush to his.

“Matthew,” you reply, your voice taking on a scolding tone.

“What? No one else is in here.”

“Yeah, but anyone could walk in. There isn’t a locked door separating us from the backyard.”

“I could get you behind a locked door,” comes his smooth reply, leaning in towards your lips. You halt his forward motion with a hand on his chest.

“I’m not fucking you in your captain’s house.”

“Not exactly what I meant.” Your only response is a hum, the sarcastic ‘sure’ conveyed clearly, even without the words being spoken. You manage to untangle yourself from him and move towards the trash before Matt speaks again.

“I was thinking maybe you’d come back to mine after dinner.”

“Dinner?” you question, not really looking up at him as you throw the bottlecap away. “I didn’t realize the team was doing that tonight too.”

“They aren’t.”

The waver in his voice is what calls your attention back to him. As soon as your eyes land on him, you are surprised to see that suave, smooth Matthew that everyone thought they knew had completely disappeared. In his place was Matty, his eyes bouncing from you to the floor. You watch as his hand goes to tuck that invisible strand of hair behind his ear, a quirk that you noticed many times before and always found stupidly endearing.

“I was thinking it could be just you and me.”

The realization slowly dawns on you, the understanding of exactly what he was asking.

“Matthew, are you asking me on a date?” you gently tease, not wanting to miss the opportunity to make him even more flustered, no matter how you actually felt about the man.

“If I was, would you say yes?”

The question is put so bluntly that it knocks down almost every imagined wall that had previously been built between the two of you. Because the answer was yes. Even after the rocky start, even after swearing up and down that the connection the two of you shared was purely physical, you ended up really liking Matthew.

And it wasn’t that he just wore you down or wiggled his way into your heart. No, it was because you had seen a side of him that few rarely got to see. Those softer parts of him that no one really seemed to notice or that the general public never really cared about.

Like those mornings where you would wake up to him watching you sleep, that soft smile on his lips.

You liked him. You might even grow to love him.

However, you weren’t about to let him know all of that just yet.

“I might,” you respond, walking towards him, your eyes sparkling with that same energy he always directs your way. You stop mere inches in front of him, the playful grin pulling at the corner of your lips. “I may need a little convincing though.”

Matthew reads your teasing with ease, not wasting any time before he leans down, capturing your lips in his. You’ve kissed Matthew a hundred times before this. But somehow, this kiss stood apart. It was both similar and different from all the others. Yes, it was filled with passion and fire. But now, it was also filled with deeper emotions, emotions the two of you had been too scared to admit, emotions that were as mysterious as the depths of the ocean. The combination was intoxicating and you can’t stop yourself from pressing against him, pulling him closer to you.

“I fucking knew it!”

A different voice bounces off the walls of the kitchen and you break away, looking around Matthew’s frame to see Nick standing in the doorway. You feel the heat flare in your cheeks and you don’t even try to pretend like you weren’t just caught red-handed as you bury your head in Matthew’s chest.

“Benny, you owe me twenty bucks!” Nick shouts, his voice retreating as he returns to the backyard. Beneath your forehead, you can feel Matt’s chest shake in laughter as he wraps his arms around you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Guess we weren’t being as subtle as we thought.”

[tkachuktkaching]

Tkachuk brothers set for ‘healthy competition’ when Senators host Panthers

Brady of Ottawa, Matthew of Florida to play against one another for 19th time in NHL

The mutual admiration society that is the Tkachuk family will be on display once again Monday.

Matthew Tkachuk and his Florida Panthers visit Brady Tkachuk and the Ottawa Senators at the Canadian Tire Center with each Tkachuk brother and each team hungry for a victory.

The Panthers (12-7-1) have lost two in a row and are six points behind the Boston Bruins for first place in the Atlantic Division. The Senators (8-8-0) are eighth in the Atlantic and trying to keep pace in the race for a wild-card spot in the Eastern Conference.

At this point, though, they are used to high stakes when they face each other in the NHL.

“We are each other’s biggest fan,” older brother Matthew said. “When we play against each other now, especially [being] in the same division, we have to beat each other, our teams have to win. It creates that healthy competition. It’s a very good relationship the two of us have.”

Now in their sixth season of going head-to-head in the best hockey league in the world, the brothers have learned to compartmentalize when they play each other.

They go hard against each other on the ice and it often gets heated. It is also mostly even.

They have played against one another 18 times in the NHL and each has won nine games. Each forward has scored six goals, including one on the power play. Brady has 25 penalty minutes, Matthew 23. Brady 62 shots on goal, one more than Matthew. Brady has a decided advantage in hits (64-31), but Matthew has 20 points to Brady’s 11 (statistics provided by NHL Stats).

Yet, it never spills over off the ice. There, they are staunch supporters of one another, displaying a bond that seems to intensify each season.

“I think he is the smartest player in the NHL,” Brady says. “How he sees the game, I don’t think anybody is up there with how he sees it. I think he is one of the best players in the NHL. I think everybody is finally starting to believe what I believed from Day 1, that he has such an impact and is so good at what he does.”

Matthew, 25, is coming off a run to the Stanley Cup Final last season. He was injured in the Final against the Vegas Golden Knights and the Panthers lost in five games, but Matthew was the unquestioned star for his team in the postseason after an MVP-worthy regular season when he had an NHL career-high 109 points (40 goals, 69 assists).

Brady, 24, was around for some of that playoff run. He showed up for the bigger games and even helped his brother get to the rink for Game 4 after Matthew sustained a broken sternum in Game 3. Matthew played in Game 4 but couldn’t go in Game 5.

“Going into [Game 4], I was a little nervous. What he did in that game, trying to work around it, the pain, not many people can do that,” Brady said. “I was super proud of him sacrificing himself to get the job for his team and the city. “Seeing how happy he made my family and how proud everyone was with what he did with that opportunity, I want that for me too. It created such a motivation. It’s an honor for him to be my brother and to learn from him.”

This season, after spending the offseason recovering from injury, Matthew has 17 points (three goals, 14 assists) in 20 games.

Brady has 15 points (10 goals, five assists) in 16 games and is giving his older sibling a run for personal bragging rights.

“On the ice, I’m probably more powerful, little better skater,” Brady says when asked for a comparison between he and his brother. “I don’t know, everything I do, I want to emulate him and emulate his game. I feel I’m starting to get there, but there’s a long way to go. He’s the perfect person to look up to on the ice.”

Matthew says that Brady already has “a way better” shot than him.

Brady is also the more physical player, each agrees.

“I don’t know if I’m much better than him at on-ice stuff anymore,” Matthew says.

They compete off the ice too, but Matthew is ready to abdicate the crown there on almost every front except one.

“He’s probably like an overall genuinely better person than me, I’m more of a [jokester] than he is, more of an instigator,” Matthew says. “He’s probably overall just a genuinely nicer human being. I will work on that.”

Brady, meanwhile, says he can’t hold a candle to his older brother on the golf course.

“I still kick his [butt] every time we play,” Matthew said, laughing.

Says Brady, “I got to figure that out.”

[midnightsnyx]

I have an angst idea! Panthers win ECF and during a drunken celebration, Matt calls his ex in Calgary after they had broke up bc she didn’t want to move countries. He tells her he misses her and asks her if she watched and of course she did, and she misses him, but she can’t be with him? If you’re up for it!

the loml + angst? how can I resist writing that? guys sorry btw im not editing any of these lol

Everything is different and nothing is the same and you hate it. If this was last year and Matt was still with the Flames, you would be celebrating with him. Instead, you’re sitting on your couch in your small Calgary apartment watching the Panthers win the ECF on the television screen. When Matt went to Florida, you didn’t go with him. You couldn’t. Even being with him for 4 years, you weren’t ready to uproot your entire life and move to a different country. Matt was understanding and the two of you tried long distance but it didn’t last longer than a couple months. It was too much of a strain on your relationship. So, you decided to end things after 4 years together. It was the hardest decision you’d made, especially after hearing from a drunken Brady that Matt was planning on proposing. He even had the ring bought, but then he decided to go to Florida and that was that. 

After watching the team celebrate on the ice for a few minutes, you smile bittersweetly and turn the tv off and get ready for bed. It takes you a while to fall asleep, because you’re going over the last conversation you and Matt had over and over in your head. Once you do fall asleep, it’s not for long because your phone starts ringing. It’s far too late (early?) for someone to be calling so you immediately know who it is.

“Matt,”

“Did you watch it?” he asks, words slurring and you know he’s drunk. He’s done it a few times before, called you when he was drunk and you just hung up but something stops you this time.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “‘course I did.”

There’s music somewhere in the background but it seems like he’s in a room or somewhere quieter. 

“Miss you,” he mumbles and you have to stop yourself from crying. You should’ve hung up the phone when you realized he wasn’t sober or just didn’t answer in the first place. 

“Yeah,” is all you can manage to say, knowing if you try to say anything else, you’ll end up crying. You miss him too, more than words can say but you made the decision that was best for you and if you had followed him to Florida, you would’ve ended up regretting it and eventually, regretting him. 

“Y’know, I-”

“Don’t,” you say, cutting him off before he says something that you’ll both regret in the morning. “Please, Matt.” He’s quiet for a minute and the only thing you can hear is his breathing and the music in the background. 

“I’m proud of you, and I know you’re gonna do great things,” you say, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this in the morning. He’ll look at his phone and realize he drunk dialed you, and ignore it. “But you need to let me go, okay?” 

“Okay,” he whispers, “I-”

You end the call before he can say anything else, putting your phone on silent and closing your eyes. You know you won’t sleep tonight now, you’ll be awake for hours letting yourself think about the what ifs. What if you went to Florida with him, what if you didn’t break up, what if you let him finish that sentence. You’ll let yourself think about the what ifs until the sun rises and then leave them behind.