#matthew tkachuk imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raysofcrosby · 2 years

Text

christmases when you were mine, fade into new years day – m. tkachuk

warnings: mentions of sex – fingering, language, basically 18+, angst, the word panties [bc again, it needs a warning since it's cringeworthy]. mentions of blood, slightly less of an asshole!matt seeking redemption, italics signify flashbacks! there's also a small ode to one of my all-time fav movies love and basketball in this part 👀

requested: yes | no

inspiration: part three to baby, it's cold outside. otherwise known as the aftermath of the one-night stand, the confrontation and happily ever after...maybe.

word count: 36,381 of once again, pure unedited material [bc i truly just have no self-control and obsess over the details of every little thing it seems...so ya, i stay getting carried away]

an: yes we're in april and yes this three-part series is sticking with the christmas song title theme. the titles are partially based off the songs christmases when you were mine and new years day, both by taylor swift! this is the final part in the series, and sorry for taking so long but now it's finally being posted!! enjoy!

| part one • part two |

“Are you going to tell me what happened last night or what?”

It was the question you’ve been avoiding from the moment Taryn first asked it to you when you both walked through the sliding glass doors of Matt’s apartment complex and out into the cold winter air to get into your waiting uber. There were a million other things you’d rather talk about in the uber with Taryn, Emma and Brady on the way to the airport, and none of them were about your night, Matt or your night with Matt.

When the four of you got through airport security, Emma hung around until it was time for her to catch her plane home, and then it was just the three of you sitting at the gate and waiting to get onto the plane that would eventually take you back to St. Louis for the holidays. And thanks to you and Taryn buying your tickets together over the phone, you two were sitting right next to each other, while Brady was stuck in the aisle next to you, conveniently in the aisle seat. And despite all of the traffic of people trying to board after the three of you and get to their seats, it didn’t stop Brady from consistently leaning forward or backward, whichever put him in your sight and asking–

“So are you going to tell us about your naked night with our brother or what? We already know you guys had sex, so just tell us what happened and we’ll drop it.”

It was dropped anyway thanks to the strange looks received by the elderly couple who stopped just short of your row, waiting for Brady to get up from his aisle seat so they could take their seats beside him. The entire flight home, Brady was trying to get your attention to ask what happened, Taryn had gotten the picture and hadn’t asked again and you ignored them both by putting on your Airpods and listening to your perfectly curated playlist for moments like these.

The ones when your feelings were already hurt and you wanted to hurt them more.

At least until your phone kept spazzing out whenever a new song would play. It somehow gained a charge from Taryn’s charger in the airport while you were waiting to board your plane, but not by much. Maybe 50%. So the last hour of the flight, you’d stopped listening to music altogether and just sat in silence. By the time you landed in St. Louis and made it through Customs, you’d already replayed your whole night and the entire confrontation with Matt this morning in your head as many times as it took to take up the nearly three and a half hour flight it took for you to get back into St. Louis. It was like your own form of self torture, picturing him say the words “one night stand” over and over, as if your brain were trying so hard to engrave it in your heart so you wouldn’t dare look at any of the soft moments between you both the night before and try to find some deeper meaning in them. It was your own form of self-protection that didn’t really work all that well, because by the time your guys uber pulled up in front of the Tkachuk family home, you were already missing the stupid curly headed Tkachuk brother who basically broke your heart without a single care in his stupid NHL player world.

You had made plans for Taryn to come over to your house to spend the night after she showered off the flight, so Brady was the one who offered to walk you home, despite your house being across the street, because it was dark outside and ice was on the sidewalks, a discovery made when he almost slipped getting out of the uber to drop his stuff off on his front steps.

No matter how much you insisted that he didn’t have to do that, that he could just stand on his own front porch and look across the street to make sure you got into your own house safe, he still walked you over. Because he was Brady and he’s always been like that since the two of you became friends, like he was your built in protector while also being your best friend. He was also the number one nuisance in your life besides his older brother, but that just came with the territory. Because in the end, besides Taryn, Brady was the person you could talk to about relationships and sex, unless he pawned you off onto Emma and Taryn– then he wasn’t.

“Okay, so maybe I went about it wrong on the plane, but really what happened last night with Matt because normally you’re asleep on the plane before we take off, but this flight you were all quiet and mopey and pretending to listen to music when I know for a fact you weren’t listening to anything.” He said, leaning against the wall of your house, just beside your front door.

“Brady, I really don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed, digging your house key out from your purse. “Just tell Taryn I’m ordering pizza and I’ve got drinks.”

When you went to unlock the door, Brady grabbed your lanyard from your hand, gaining your attention. “Seriously, y/n. Do I need to kick his ass or what? Because yeah, he’s my older brother and my parents preach family above all else, but I’m not opposed to beating him up if he hurt you. I’m bigger than him now, I can win a fight.”

“Brady, give me my keys.”

“Come on, just tell me!” Brady replied, spinning the keyring around his finger as he squinted his eyes. “Did he hurt you? Did he say something stupid? He does that a lot. Did he force you into anything?”

“Jesus Brady, no,” you huffed, reaching for your keys, Brady playing keep away by holding them up higher than you could reach. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone so I can shower and stuff my face with pizza in peace?”

Brady lolled his head side to side, then nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

You took another deep breath and exhaled, turning towards him fully. “He brushed me off, okay?”

“Brushed…you off?” Brady echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that some new code for sex or–”

“No, it means your brother basically said ‘thanks for the drunk sex, it was fun and it’s never hapening again,’ and then sent me on my way.”

“Come on, there’s no way,” Brady laughed, shaking his head. “Matt wouldn’t.”

“You want the rundown, Brady? Fine,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I asked if we should talk about what happened last night and he basically brushed me off and said ‘we had sex, we had fun, it happened and now it’s over, what’s there to say?’ And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he was the one who called it a one night stand–”

“What?” Brady asked, sounding surprised. “No way, he wouldn’t.”

“I’d say he was pretty insistent.” You shifted your feet, clearing your throat as you hugged your arms closer to you. “In fact, I’m pretty sure his exact words were that we’re ‘just two drunk friends who got a little carried away and crossed the line a few times’–”

“Ew…” He mumbled under his breath, shaking the thought out of his head.

“Do you want to know or not, Brady?” You huffed, looking at him.

“Sorry, yeah, sorry,” he replied, shaking his head. “But I mean…maybe he just didn’t know what to say, y/n? You guys have been friends for 20 years. Maybe you can just sit down with him and talk about it when he comes home? That he didn’t mean it–”

“‘There’s no way this can become a thing. Besides, you’re home in St. Louis and I’m here nine, ten months out of the year.’ ‘It’s never happening again,’” You said, your throat tightening as you could easily hear Matt’s own voice telling you the exact words hours earlier. “I’m pretty sure he meant it, Brady. Like I said, he was insistent.”

Brady just stared at you, most likely still trying to figure out what to say that could counteract your argument. But instead, he just grabbed your suitcase and started walking down your front porch steps. “Come on.”

“Brady–”

“Nope,” he turned around, nodding his head towards their house. “Matt was a dick and as your supportive best friend, the last thing I’m going to do is let you sleep alone in your house so you can wallow in your feelings.”

You opened your mouth to protest, only for Brady to shake his head. “And before you say your parents will be home, they won’t. Because mom told us in a group chat earlier that they were still out of town cause of the weather and to offer you a place to stay if you didn’t want to stay alone. So I’m making the executive decision and you’re staying over. We can still order pizza and you and Taryn can ignore me if you want, but you’re staying at our house, get over it.”

“I hate you,” you sighed, carefully walking down your front porch steps and coming up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, I hate you too.” He replied, the two of you walking back across the street and making your way to their house. “But also if you’re going to girl talk with Taryn about last night, please make sure I’m not in the room when you get into the whole…details thing. It’s already bad enough I have picture evidence of an empty condom box on the floor and then hearing you said you guys did it multiple times. I don’t need any more knowledge of you two sleeping together.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you shook your head, the two of you coming to a stop on the Tkachuk’s front porch. “That box was already empty. We didn’t use condoms.”

“Ah, no,” he groaned, waving you off as he visibly cringed. “God, that's exactly what I don’t need to know. Gross. Just–” he opened the front door and motioned for you to walk in. “Get inside and go shower or something. I’ll order the pizza and make us drinks. I have a feeling I’ll already be a drink or two ahead of you guys thanks to that new piece of information.”

“Coming from the guy who sent me a text the moment he lost his virginity?” You laughed, walking into the house. “Got it.”

“That was a monumental time in my life that didn’t involve anyone you were close to.” He replied, closing the front door. “But you did the same, so just go upstairs and shower, you smell.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your suitcase and starting to tug it up the stairs. “Hey y/n?” Brady called out, gaining your attention as you looked back towards the end of the stairs where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

Brady took a deep breath and exhaled, patting his hand on the end of the stairwell before shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Brady.”

He frowned. “Yeah, but I know how much you like him, even after…everything.”

You nodded. “Yeah,” taking a deep breath, you exhaled heavily and shrugged, putting a small smile on your face. “But it’s alright Brae. I’m sure I’ll get over it. He wouldn’t be the first dumb jock to break my heart.”

Brady sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Come on, y/n. How many times do I have to apologize for that? If I would’ve known you were able to fly up for prom I wouldn't have asked that other girl.”

You laughed, Brady pointing at you with a smile, knowing he got you to break. He also knew that he wasn’t the dumb jock you were referring to, yet he was still willing to take the spot so you didn’t have to think about your one and only ex. That and many other reasons, was always why Brady was going to be your favorite Tkachuk brother.

“I’ll be back down,” you replied, turning back around.

“Love you, y/n.” He laughed, walking away from the end of the stairs.

“Love you, Brae,” you replied, tugging your suitcase up the stairs, making your way down the hall towards Taryn’s room.

The moment you passed Matt’s room, you hadn’t expected your heart to race or a knot in your throat to form. You hadn’t even looked at the door, simply keeping your attention away from it, but he still had an affect on you even after the last three hours you’ve spent trying to convince yourself that he didn’t deserve any more of your time. That what he said and how easily he was able to brush you and your night together off, should’ve been the final nail in the coffin. But it wasn’t. Because somehow and maybe it was the universe playing a really cruel trick on you, there was no way you could cast him out of your heart as easily as he cast you out of his apartment this morning.

And that really, really sucked.

“Oh perfect you’re here,” Taryn huffed, walking out of her room freshly showered and in sweats and a sweatshirt, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room, shutting the door behind you before turning around. “What the hell happened after you and Matt left the bar? When did you even leave? One second you say you’re going to the bathroom and then the next thing I know you’re both MIA?”

“Taryn,” you sighed, putting your suitcase down and taking your backpack off of your shoulders, putting it down onto her bed. “I just want to take a shower, have a drink and eat some greasy pizza…can we do that please?”

“If I get Brady to leave us alone will you tell me?” She asked, walking into her bathroom and opening the linen closet, grabbing you a towel before walking back into the room. “Because no offense y/n, but you look like hell and you smell like my brother. I can do the bad friend thing and just assume you’re hungover, but I’m a pretty good friend so I’m going to do the exact opposite.”

“Like I told Brady, there’s just…not that much to say. But if it’ll make you drop it for the rest of our lives, then sure.” You just shook your head, walking over and taking the towel from her. “But only after my shower.”

“I’ll be downstairs, you know where everything is.” She said, leaving her room.

You grabbed your phone and plugged it into the charger she had on her desk, hoping you’d be able to get some charge into it and knowing tomorrow you’d probably end up going to AT&T and getting a new phone. Trying to send a message to your mom letting her know you’d landed safely and were staying at the Tkachuk’s tonight, your phone screen glitched and you ended up pressing on your messages with Matt instead.

Four pictures gracing your screen. The first was from him, a picture of the two of you beside each other at the bar smiling at whoever was taking your picture, though it was probably Taryn. The second was a selfie, the two of you closer than before with you standing in front of him and your pack pressed to his chest his right arm was draped over your shoulder and resting across your chest, your own hands holding onto his arm. The third and forth pictures were selfies that you had sent to him. It was you and Matt again, you could see Jacob and Rasmus in the background photobombing the two of you. Matt was standing behind you, both of his arms wrapped around your waist. The third picture was Matt’s head turned towards you, his lips against your cheek and the fourth was probably taken immediately after that photo because it was you turned towards him. Matt not having moved from his spot and you smiling up at him, most likely in the middle of saying something and him just smiling down at you with his signature closed lipped smile and dimple on display and the tips of your noses touching.

You both were easily three or four drinks in and the drinks themselves in your hands, because you knew for a fact you wouldn’t have cozied up to him like this if you didn’t have a little bit of liquid courage, though the smile on your face was throwing you under the bus revealing you wouldn’t have want to been anywhere else– but, and if this morning hadn’t happened, you might’ve thought that his smile and the way he had his own head leaning against yours would’ve been the evidence that you were more than just another girl to find her way into Matthew Tkachuk’s bed for the night.

But it didn’t really matter all that much now, did it?

You were out of the Tkachuk’s house the moment you heard Brady get up from one of the couches in their basement to get dressed and hop onto the Peloton to do a workout. The three of you had slept in the basement, enjoying beers and pizza and you had told them all about what happened with Matt that morning. While the details of just how you got to the point of you and Matt leaving the bar together were hazy, the night you spent with him was not. And you spared the two younger siblings the details of just how your night with their older brother was spent, you weren’t too shy to tell them the softer moments of the night, more towards the end, but you spent the most detail on reliving that morning.

Brady and Taryn all but refused to step foot in Matt’s apartment unless he got it professionally cleaned and you knew they were trying their best to make light of the situation's aftermath, which you appreciated. But you appreciated it more when the moment they made that joke, all conversations of Matt ceased to exist and you went on with your night.

When you got home, you immediately put yourself to work. You did your laundry, you wrapped the presents you’d bought your parents in Calgary up and put them beneath the tree. You cleaned your room, you cleaned the already cleaned living room and by the time that you were tired of cleaning you’d taken another shower and plopped back down onto your bed, it was only noon and you felt like you were losing your mind. You reached over to your bedside table and grabbed your macbook, opening it and logging in before opening your messages with Taryn.

Y/n: Any chance you’d be up to coming over and having a girls night tonight? 🥺

Tar 🥳 : Are you kidding? Hell yeah.

Tar 🥳: I’ll be right over!

Y/n: Ugh I love you. Door’s unlocked so just come upstairs to my room!

Ready to click out, your eyes stopped on the message from Matt that was unread. Your phone was pretty much dead, dying the moment after you were able to send off your snap streaks earlier this morning and you hadn’t opened your macbook at all until now, so this was the first time you were ever seeing the message.

“Ignore it,” you mumbled, moving your cursor towards the x of the window. “You don’t need to see what it says, it’s probably something stupid.” Your eyes moved away from the blue unread dot and then drifted back over. “Or maybe you forgot something important and he’s letting you know so you don’t freak out later…”

Matt 🐭: Brady and Taryn said you guys made it home safely, I’m glad to hear.

Matt 🐭: I know you said you have plans tomorrow, but if those happen to fall out…I’ll be home around noon and maybe we can hang? If not, I’ll see you Christmas Eve. Goodnight, y/n.

While you originally lied about having plans, just so you wouldn’t have to sit and suffer a conversation with Matt after basically being embarrassed at that moment in time, it turns out that now, you did have plans– with Taryn. But the texts that you got weren’t really the texts that you wanted. Maybe it was better than him telling you that you forgot something in his apartment, and maybe this ‘hang out’ was something where he had intentions of apologizing. Though you also wouldn’t put it past him to use the hang out to make sure he got his original message across that the two of you were going to be just friends and that what happened between you guys wouldn’t transfer over to the Tkachuk’s Christmas Eve party or even your Christmas dinner tradition at their house.

“Okay, I’m here!” Taryn called out, the alarm system beeping twice signaling that she closed the front door. “And thank God you reached out because Brady just got home picking Matt up from the airport and I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted without giving him the stink eye.” Taryn walked into your room, seeing you on your bed. “What’s up?”

“Matt texted me last night and I just read them.”

“Did he apologize for being a dick?” She asked, walking around your bed and standing next to you, bending down and reading the messages on the screen. Then, she closed your macbook and put it back on your bedside table. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked as she tugged you up by your wrist.

“The least, like literally the very least he could’ve done was apologize. So first we’re going to see what we can do about your phone. And then after that, we’re going shopping because you’re showing up to our party tomorrow looking hot and my idiot brother is going to regret ever turning you into one of his hookups.”

You exhaled heavily, dragging your own feet as she dragged you down the stairs. “Taryn I–”

“No buts,” she grabbed your car keys off of the hook on the wall and tossed them to you. “Now come on, girls night starts now and we’re going to transform you into the life of the party tomorrow. Trent’s going to be there, you know. Maybe you guys can rekindle whatever it was you had.”

“I am not using Trent to get back at your brother,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as you both walked out of your front door.

Taryn smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged her jacket closer to her. “I didn’t say anything about using Trent. Your mind went there with no guidance.”

You laughed, waving her off as you locked your front door and caught up to her to run to your already running car. “Just get in the car, loser.”

“I believe the correct line is, get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Taryn smiled, standing by the passenger door as you walked around the front of the car. “Now let operation Deck his halls so he doesn’t know what hit him, commence.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you unlocked the car, opening your own door. “Just get in.”

“Why isn’t she here yet?” Matt asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping his beer slowly as Brady snacked on the cheese from one of the many charcuterie boards their mom had made for the party.

“Maybe she lost track of time getting ready?” Brady shrugged, looking at the different rolled meats before settling on a piece of salami.

“Her parents are here. She always arrives with her parents.” Matt huffed, taking a longer sip of his beer before leaning both arms against the counter. “You’re her best friend, you have to know something.”

“I’ve also been around you pretty much 24/7. How can I know something when she’s been with Taryn the whole time?” Brady replied, rolling his eyes and picking up another piece of salami. “You’re bothering the wrong sibling, dude.”

After his nap yesterday, he met up with Brady downstairs and the two of them talked about what Matt could do to both apologize to you for how your last morning in Calgary went and confess that not only was what happened between you two not just another one night stand to him, but also his feelings for you that he’s held for years. The best they could come up with is that sometime during the party, Brady would ask you if you could go down into the basement to grab more champagne, claiming that he was already helping their mom with something. And when you went down into the basement to grab the champagne that wasn’t needed, Matt would wait a few seconds before following you and hopefully the two of you could talk.

Basically, and since it really had come down to this– he was going to have to corner you for you to even bother listening to a single word he had to say. Not really the most ingenious plan, but it was going to have to work.

“Taryn! Perfect, just who I wanted to see,” Matt said, standing up from the counter and turning towards his younger sister who looked confused at his excitement.

“Why? What do you want?”

“He wants to know why y/n isn’t here yet,” Brady mumbled through his bites of a cracker, going to pick up another one.

“Stop eating all the food,” Taryn said, smacking his hand away before leaning across the counter and picking up the board he was eating off of. “Mom sent you in here to get two of the boards, not eat them.”

“Whatever,” Brady replied, picking up a roll of ham off of the new board before picking it up and walking out from around the counter and patting Matt on the shoulder. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“You’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes as Brady walked by, nudging her slightly. She looked back at Matt and sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Last thing I knew, she texted me saying she was doing her make-up. That was maybe five minutes ago? So she’s probably almost done and will be here soon.”

“Texted you?”

“Yeah, still on the macbook. We tried to get her a new phone yesterday, but she still has like a year left on her plan and it’d cost a lot to replace,” Taryn replied, turning around to walk out of the kitchen. “But you can always go over and grab her. I’m sure she’s just lost track of time.”

Matt nodded, following her out into the living room and atrium where a majority of the partygoers were mingling. He did his best to make his way towards the Christmas tree, walking around on the side to grab one of your Christmas gifts from beneath the tree and politely smiled at every person he passed on his way to the front door. Once he made it outside of his house without getting stopped, he exhaled and quickly made his way across the street to yours.

Without even attempting to open your front door, he stopped just in front of the steps and picked up the fourth flower pot on his right, knowing that’s where your parents kept the spare key. Putting the flower pot back down, he walked up the steps and to your front door, using the key to unlock it and open it. As he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him, he contemplated calling out to you, but decided against it and just made his way up the stairs to where your room was.

Your bedroom door was open and he slowly walked down the hallway, carefully stepping in front of the doorway to see you sitting at your vanity. He stepped forward and knocked on the door, hoping that he wouldn’t scare you.

“Yeah?” You asked, applying mascara.

“Hey, uh…it’s me,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I can see that,” you replied, applying mascara to your other eye. “What’s up? Is the party canceled or something?”

“No, um,” he cleared his throat as he walked into your room.“Everyone’s pretty much there and I noticed that uh…well you weren’t and Taryn said you might still be over here. So I figured I’d come get you.”

He felt nervous standing there in your room. He could see that he was now in view of your vanity mirror, but the entire time you’d had your back turned to him. He figured you’d be mad at him, especially with how Brady had confronted him yesterday about what went down with you two and how now he knew the reason why you’d been so short and cold with him the last two years.

And that only made him more nervous.

"Thanks I guess,” You replied, barely looking at him through your mirror as you reapplied your powdered foundation. “What's that?"

"It's your Christmas present...well one of them," he said, holding out the small red gift bag complimented with white tissue paper. "Do you want to open it now?"

"Secret Santa isn't until after dinner, you know that," you said, getting up from your vanity and walking right by him towards your dresser, looking at the jewelry tower right on top in search for a pair of earrings.

He couldn’t help but stare as you looked for a pair of earrings to wear, the words he wanted to say next were stuck in his throat. You looked good. Your hair was half-up, half-down, the side pieces pulled out of your face. Your make-up was almost effortlessly pretty, and if it wasn’t for the darker smokey eyeshadow and the winged liner on your eyes, he never would have guessed you were even wearing make-up. Not that he was all knowledgeable on what you had in your closet, but he was almost positive that the deep red sequin dress you were wearing was new. It came to and in the middle of your thighs, long puffed sleeves that cuffed at your wrists and had a near identical plunging neckline similar to the bodysuit you’d worn that night in the bar. And his $25 must have gone to good use considering it’d only been a day since he’d seen the marks he’d left behind and your skin looked like it’d never been touched.

"This isn't a Secret Santa gift," he replied, shaking his head as he walked towards you. "I got Trent for Secret Santa this year. I could find out who has you if you want–"

You turned around, shaking your head as you walked back towards your vanity, putting your earrings in. "That defeats the point of Secret Santa, Matthew. The fun's all in not knowing who bought you your gift until the end."

"Yeah...I guess you're right," he sighed, letting his arm return back to his side.

He saw you sneak a look at him through your vanity, watching as he looked around your room, chewing on the inside of his cheek and trying to come up with something to dissolve the very obvious tension. "You don't have to wait–"

"Do you remember that year when we got each other for Secret Santa?" He asked, walking over to your desk, looking at the shelving above it. "I think it was what...my eighth-grade year, your sixth-grade year?"

"Freshman and seventh," you replied, looking away from him and leaning towards your mirror, touching up your mascara.

"That's right," he smiled, nodding as he laughed softly. He could easily picture you all dressed up in your matching ugly Christmas sweaters with Brady like you had every year, though that year was the first year you opted not to wear Christmas sweaters. Instead, you’d worn a dress he’d seen you wear before, your hair was all wavy like how Taryn’s always get whenever she slept in with her hair in braids overnight and it was the first time he’d ever seen you wear lipstick, and it’d made your braces stick out more…but you still looked pretty.

But 15 year old Matt wasn’t going to tell you that.

"You were so excited and almost ruined it for those two weeks leading up to Christmas. The only reason how I knew it was you was because you had this really big smile on your face when I opened it. You had made me this little Patriots gift basket with a whole bunch of Pats and Tom Brady stuff."

"I used all of my allowance on that stuff too," you replied, putting down your mascara and picking up your lipstick. "It took me a week to put it all together."

"Well, I loved it," he said, looking at you. "I mean, I may have been too cool to show it 'cause I was 15...but I loved it a lot." He turned back towards your desk, looking amongst all the books and knick-knacks you had on the shelves before pulling one out. "And I got you that book clip on night light because your Mom was always getting mad at you for trying to read in the dark and you never wanted to get in trouble for turning your light on after bed. And this...a ticket stub diary, because you always were keeping your movie tickets and sports tickets and then I've always wondered if you filled it out yet..."

You paused with the tissue in your hands, and for a moment it looked like you were going to turn around, but instead you kept your back to him and in the mirror even he could tell that the retelling of the memory even had you wondering how he remembered that about you, before shaking your head subtly in reply. "I have a baggie of stubs in the cabinet," you said, blotting your red lips. "Haven't updated it in the last two years."

"Oh," he nodded, still flipping through the pages until he reached the end...where there were still a handful of pages left. "Maybe you could go through it and fill it out. I could help if you want–"

"That's okay, I'll do it later. I'm sure I'll need something to do on New Year's Eve," you replied, putting your lipstick into your small clutch before moving away from your vanity. "If you're done going down memory lane, I'm ready to leave now."

"Oh, yeah uh..." he struggled to put the book back where it belonged and walked away from your desk, holding the gift bag up. "So where do you want me to put this?"

"Under your guys' tree or wherever, since we come over to your place for dinner. It doesn't matter Matthew," you replied, walking by him and out of your room, your fingers on the light switch. "Come on, I'm already running a little late."

Suddenly he felt like was back in his apartment watching you fake a smile in the elevator before you left for good, only this time you were right in front of him and the both of you were going to the same place– his house for his parent’s Christmas Eve party.

“Hey, so I was um,” he paused once you turned the lights off after he left your room, walking by him and heading towards the stairs. “Do you think maybe we could talk?”

“We’re late to the party, Matthew,” you said, not bothering to stop as you walked down the stairs. “I mean, isn’t that why you came over? Because I was late?”

He opened his mouth to speak as you held the front door open for him to walk through. He considered reaching down for the doorknob and closing the front door, but there was still plenty of party left and he’d rather have your conversation go bad in the middle of the party or towards the end, not the beginning where he’d just know someone would be able to pick up on it. Instead, he just nodded and walked through the front door.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you replied, following him out of the front door and locking it behind you.

Matt nodded and walked down the front steps first, offering you his hand to take in the event that you slipped in your shoes– some small strappy nude heels– and when you looked at him he could see the hesitance in your eyes to accept the small gesture, and with each passing second he started to feel nauseous, realizing just how bad he might have screwed up with you. But then…you placed your hand on his and held it, stepping down the front steps and then immediately letting go.

“Come on, don’t want to be any more late than we already are.” You replied, looking away from him and starting to make your way towards his house.

Okay…so some small progress. But still, he was more than positive that he’d need Brady’s plan if he was expecting to get anywhere with you.

He quickly caught up to you and then brought out his phone, opening his messages with Brady.

Matt: Okay my first attempt failed horribly.

Matt: I’m definitely going to need to pull that champagne plan sometime tonight.

Bro with the flow: Got it! 👍🏻

Clearly whatever small moment that you guys had shared when Matt helped you not slip down your front porch steps, was very much a thing of the past because you’ve both been at the party for almost an hour and you’ve done absolutely everything in your power to avoid him, being around him or even being within ten feet of him. Even if you weren’t doing it on purpose, which he was about 90% positive that you were, it just always happened that way.

You’d talked to Brady, Taryn, his parents, literally everyone at the party except for him. And if you were even the least bit upset about the morning after, it wasn’t showing. You were laughing and smiling with anyone you came in contact with, but the very one small slither of hope that he had, and maybe it was a little bit wrong of him to be happy about, was the fact that he recognized the smile on your face throughout the night as the very same one you had one your face as the elevator doors closed. It never reached your eyes, which told him that maybe you weren’t having as much fun as you were acting like you were.

Tossing the bottle cap from his beer off into the glass jar their dad had as a sort of cap collector, Matt took a sip of his fourth beer of the night and started to make his way back into the living room, Brady saying goodbye to Mr. Morrison, one of their Dad’s golfing buddies. Matt immediately walked over, nudging his elbow.

“Can you do it now?”

“Now?” Brady asked, shaking his head. “No, because you’ve got at least another twenty minutes before a champagne refill is actually believable.”

Matt huffed, rolling his eyes as he took another sip, as his eyes found you talking to Taryn, Trent and Maylee, a mutual friend of yours and Taryn’s that you met working kids sports camps at the country club and Taryn played field hockey with. “Come on–”

“Relax dude, there’s plenty of party left.” Brady replied, patting his shoulder.

“She’s avoided me since we got here.”

“No she hasn’t,” Brady laughed, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Anytime I get within like five feet of her, she moves, dude.” Matt replied, motioning towards where you were standing. “I mean, look, she’s got no problem being social with Taryn, Maylee and Trent.”

Brady’s gaze followed over to where you were now laughing at something someone in the group must have said, maybe Trent because all three of the girls' eyes were on him. And it built a knot of jealousy in his stomach when he saw just how genuine this laugh was– the first one of the night it seemed.

He sighed, shaking his head and looking at Brady. “Did I really fuck up that bad?”

“Remember how I said she doesn’t do one-night stands?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, because that fact would make her ignoring you tonight make sense if she’s still a little bitter about what you said considering you’re only the third guy she’s slept with.” Brady stared at the group for a few moments longer before taking a sip of his beer, squinting his eyes and then shaking his head as he looked back at Matt. “Actually no, you’re only the second. Her and Trent never hooked up, only went on a few dates and made out a few times.”

“Trent?!” Matt froze, staring at his brother before looking over back to the group where you were standing next to Trent. He wasn’t bothered by it before, but had you always been standing that close to him? Were you smiling at him like that? Like the way you smiled in the pictures from the bar of just the two of you. “Trent Frederic?”

“Uh yeah, same one,” Brady replied, giving him a confused look before nodding over at the group. “They talked like two summers ago, maybe last summer too?”

“That’s gross,” Matt mumbled, taking a longer sip of his beer this time as he finally looked away from your group. “Trent’s a muppet straight out of Sesame Street.”

Brady snorted, bringing his beer up to his mouth as he nodded sarcastically. “Someone’s jealous.”

Matt shoved him, almost making Brady spill his beer as he walked by him. “Just do your stupid champagne plan now.”

“You weren’t calling it stupid last night when I came up with it!” Brady spoke, rolling his eyes as Matt continued to walk away and down the hallway to the bathroom.

Maybe he looked like he didn’t want to be bothered or maybe he looked like he was a man on a mission and that’s why everyone he walked by on his way to the bathroom didn’t bother to stop and talk to him, but he didn’t care. Instead, he was focused on getting to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face and then hopefully, be ready to talk to you if Brady listened to him to start the champagne plan.

He had no reason to be even the slightest bit uncomfortable or upset with the fact that you and Trent were most likely a summer thing the last two summers. After what you thought you’d heard that last team party, he didn't in the least, blame you for shutting him out of your day to day or general life updates as much as you had. Still, Brady was right…he was jealous that out of all of the people you all were mutually friends with, it was Trent who was the one who got to take you out on dates, hold your hand, even kiss you. Yeah sure Matt now had the title of being the second guy you’d ever hooked up with, but he didn’t much care about that. He’d rather have had it been him in Trent’s shoes– he being the one who took you out on dates in the summer just to sneak you back home late at night or fall asleep with you down in the basement of his home, only to come upstairs in the morning for breakfast and be greeted by his parents with the all to knowing smiles because maybe they’d seen this coming for years.

He’d rather have had your first time together been after a few dates, not a rash drunken push together orchestrated by his brother and sister. Where he would’ve been able to kiss you a few times before you slept together. You in the front seat of his car, his hand on your thigh driving who knows where as you both sang along to a song playing from one of your guys’ phones– though you’d be more laughing at him than singing, because he wasn’t necessarily the best singer, but for you he’d try and even if it failed, it still meant he got to see you smile.

Matt leaned over the bathroom sink and splashed some cold water on his face, filling his cupped hands with water and then bringing them back to his face again, letting himself cool off and calm down before standing up and grabbing one of the towels hanging up to dry off. He took a deep breath and exhaled, leaving the bathroom and walking down the hall, hoping he’d be able to find Brady and tell him again to get you to go grab more champagne.

“Matthew, your Dad said you were wandering around somewhere,” Mr. Rolling, another one of his dad’s golfing buddies said, stopping him as he barely got out of the hallway. “I’ve been watching your games this season, you boys are doing pretty good.”

“Thanks Mr. Rolling,” Matt smiled, shaking his hand as Mr. Rolling patted him on the shoulder. “We’ve still got lots of season to go.”

Mr. Rolling started going on about his glory days or something else, Matt wasn’t really paying attention because Brady was still in the same spot just a few feet away from him, only now he was talking to their Dad and the Williams’s from three doors down and you– well your group dispersed except for you and Trent. The two of you were in the same spot, only a little more off to the side by the door and his heart dropped into his feet when he noticed the red and green Christmas decoration hanging above your heads.

You and Trent were standing underneath the damn mistletoe.

“You think you boys got big odds on the Stanley Cup this year?”

“Oh um, I don’t know,” Matt replied, staring at Brady and hoping he would somehow look over. “Maybe, if we keep playing a strong game.”

Mr. Rolling went off into another spiel, Brady finally looking over in Matt’s direction and raising an eyebrow. “Mistletoe,” Matt mouthed, nodding his head over towards the door.

“What?”

“Mistletoe,” he mouthed again, this time pointing in your direction subtly with his hand that was holding his beer before he brought it up to his lips.

Brady’s face scrunched up in confusion, shaking his head again “What?”

“Mistletoe!” Matt said, only this time it was out loud and right as his mom was standing by their fireplace, getting everyone in the crowd’s attention.

Meaning he said it loud enough for every single person in the room to hear.

Brady’s eyes went wide as his mouth formed an ‘o’ before finally looking over in the direction of where he knew their mom hung the mistletoe and then shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of his beer before looking back at Matt and mouthed. “You’re fucked.”

Matt looked over, just like everyone else in the room had done and you and Trent were both standing there, shocked and unsure of what to do now that everyone’s eyes were on you. “Well, it is a Christmas tradition,” his mom spoke, trying to clear the awkward tension in the room as you looked over at Matt with a look that could kill. “But however, anyone caught under the mistletoe in this house is by no means has to kiss whoever they’re under there with unless they want–”

In seconds, you turned away from him and back to Trent, moved your hands up to his face and pulled him closer to you before pressing your lips against his, earning a few applause, whistles and cheers from the guests in the room before you pulled away.

“Well, way to keep up with the Christmas spirit,” his mom cleared her throat again, turning back towards everyone with a smile. “And with that, we’re going to go ahead and start Secret Santa here in about five minutes, so everyone go ahead and get what you need and we’ll get started once everyone is back.”

Once everyone started to move around to do whatever they needed to do before the Secret Santa exchange, Matt saw you and Trent talking together before he made his way over to Brady, shoving his shoulder. “Really?”

“You’re the one who blasted them under the mistletoe, not me,” Brady replied, shoving Matt’s shoulder back. “Since when did you think I was a lip reading expert?”

“How about you two go find something to help your mom with,” their dad said, nudging them in different directions.

“Yeah, Brae. I think I heard mom talk about needing more champagne,” Matt said, giving him a look.

“Sounds about right,” their dad nodded, patting Brady’s shoulder. “Go help your mom out and you,” he pointed at Matt, shaking his head. “Go find something to do.”

Matt nodded and walked back towards the kitchen, while Brady was finally making his way over to you and Trent, saying hi to you both before turning to you and motioning towards the area the basement door was in. You nodded and looked back at Trent, who just nodded in reply to whatever you said and then made your way away from where you were standing and through the crowd towards the basement. Once you were already turning down the hallway to open the door, Matt immediately walked out of the kitchen, making his way to the hall with a purpose. He paused in front of the open basement door before taking a deep breath and exhaling, walking through it and making his way down the stairs.

This was starting to feel like his only hope, and for all he knew, after that mistletoe accident…it was.

It was one thing for you to spend a ridiculous amount of time on your hair and make-up to get ready for this Christmas Eve party just so you could play into Taryn’s plan of making Matt regret treating you like he did that morning in his apartment and letting you leave like a puppy with its tail between its legs. But it was a whole nother for him to come and grab you to take to the party just because you were showing up late.

Late only because Taryn told you to be “fashionably late to make a statement.” And after last nights confession of her being the sole reason behind why you really did slip your panties in Matt’s backpocket at the bar, you immediately thought that she was one hundred percent behind Matt coming to your house to get you.

“Okay okay who’s next?” Shannon, the maid of honor said, coming back from getting the number of a man who’d been checking her out most of the night.

“I’ll go,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you still felt the effects of the blowjob shot you’d taken moments earlier. “I don’t mind going again, this is honestly the most fun I’ve had in forever.”

“We already know she’s going to pick dare,” Chelsea, the bride said with a smile as she nudged your arm. “You’re probably the only person I’ve met who's consistently been up for a daree.”

“That’s because she grew up with older brothers as best friends,” Taryn chimed in, a smile on her face.

“Okay, you give her the dare then!” Abigail, a bridesmaid said, pointing her drink at Taryn. “And since you’ve known each other since practically forever, it’s got to be good!”

Taryn nodded and smiled before looking at you and then looking over your shoulder, laughing to herself before looking right back at you. “Y/n, I dare you to go into the bathroom, take off your panties and then go put them in Matt’s back pocket without him catching you.”

The bridal party all squealed and gasped at Taryn’s dare and you just stared at her too shocked to respond. It was one thing to go ahead and do a blowjob shot while being in the same vicinity as the two Tkachuk boys you’ve known since forever, but it was a whole nother thing to take off your panties and stuff them in Matt’s backpocket when you’ve not only had feelings for him since you could remember, but also since he was currently sitting with two of his teammates.

“Ooh who’s Matt?” Chelsea smiled, her eyes wide.

“My older brother,” Taryn replied, pointing over to where Matt was at. “She’s been in love with him forever.”

“I have not!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms.

“She totally has, it’s in her diary. There’s written proof,” Taryn laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re totally blushing right now too!”

“You’ve definitely got feelings for him!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Matt nodding along to something Jacob was saying and sighed, looking back at your new friends. “Yeah, that doesn’t matter because I’m nothing but his little brother’s best friend. Have been for years.”

“Well, I say we change that tonight,” Shannon smiled, reaching at the bar for the new round of shots she’d ordered. “You’re hot, y/n and if he doesn’t see that then he’s blind–”

“Eh, more like he’s lost a few brain cells with all those hits he’s taken and fights he’s gotten in,” Taryn teased, nodding her head to the side.

“Regardless, he’d be a fool not to see you any differently,” Shannon handed you a shot, and nodded for you to take it. “Take a little more liquid courage, go into that bathroom, take your panties off and come strutting out like the bad bitch you are and shove them in his pocket.”

You held the shot in your hands, looking at the tequila and sighing, clinking the glass to hers and then downing the burning liquid. You shook your head, as you got over the taste and sighed. “Okay, wish me luck.”

The sound of your heart pounding was almost as loud as the music as you made your way to the bar bathroom, avoiding bumping into people or any random guy who wanted to say hello. You had to claim a stall to be able to slip off your shoes and your jeans, feeling like you were practically having an out of body experience the moment you were fully dressed again and held the red silk thong you’d been wearing in your balled up in your right fist. You quickly shoved them into your own jean pocket before washing your hands and leaving the bathroom, walking back over to the bachelorette group.

“I think I need another shot,” you said, looking at them all. “What if he catches me and then suddenly I’m the perv neighbor who lives across the street and tried to shove my panties in his pocket?”

“You’ll be fine, y/n, trust me,” Taryn laughed, turning you around and nudging you away. “Now go get my brother.”

You nod and took a deep breath, exhaling and making your way through the people crowded at the bar and over to Matt, Rasmus and Jacob, with a trying your damnedest to feel confident, but aren’t quite that sure, confident smile on your face.

“Y/n, come have a shot with us!” Rasmus called out, a big smile on his face as he waved you over to join them.

“Shots? I love shots!” You smiled, walking over, bypassing giving Jacob and Rasmus a hug and going straight to Matt, looping your right arm through his and leaning against him. You could feel him sort of stiffen at the action and felt a nervous twinge in your stomach. You kept the smile on your face as you nodded over your shoulder. “What kind of shots? Taryn and I have been doing shots with our new friends.

“Tequila,” Jacob smiled, you easily noticed how his gaze moved from you and over to Matt, even you weren’t oblivions to it, so that meant that Matt couldn’t have been either. “And you know what they say about tequila.”

“That it turns you into a fyllo,” Rasmus smiled, handing out the shots, his eyes also switching back and forth between you and Matt. “Amongst other things.”

You thought you heard Matt say something, but couldn’t really hear since he’d said it so low. “A fyllo?” You asked, looking away from Rasmus and towards Matt, in hopes that since he’s been his teammate for years, he’d have picked up on some kind of Swedish.

“Pisshead,” Jacob replied, a small and polite smile on his face. “It gets you drunk.”

You could feel your face warm up at the slight embarrassment but still nodded. “Oh, well, let’s get drunk.”

“I knew I liked you,” Jacob smiled, the first to hold his shot glass up. “Skål!”

You repeated after Jacob and made sure to clink your shot glass against each of theirs before tossing back the shot, once again swallowing back the burning liquor for the umpteenth time that night. And still, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes and shake your head after the shot with no chaser. “Okay, no more tequila.” You replied, putting the shot glass down.

“You okay?” Matt asked, looking at you for the first time since walking over.

“I’m fine, just drunk,” you smiled, nodding at him as you squeezed his arm reassuringly.

He laughed, eyes on you as he reached up towards your hair, bringing back a boa feather. “I know, I can tell. Boa?”

“Bachelorette party are the friends we made, they let us join,” you replied, smiling as you shifted yourself closer to him and instantly getting a whiff of the cologne he often wore and you loved so much.

Once he turned his attention back towards his teammates, you unlooped your right arm from his, still standing close to him and reached into your backpocket, grabbing your own panties, balling them up in your fist and then carefully reached over to his left back pocket and nudged your hand inside, stuffing the silk material deep into his pocket. Matt jumped at the contact and you quickly grabbed onto his arm with your left hand, squeezing it so he would know it was just you.

The dare was to sneak your panties into his pocket without him noticing, and since the second half of the dare was already ruined and you were running on pure adrenaline and tequila shots, you leaned up onto your toes and pressed your lips against his ear. “These are for you.” And then with a small kiss on the cheek, you pulled your hand from his pocket, unlooped your arm from his and turned around to walk back towards your group who were all staring at you with knowing smiles.

“Holy fucking shit, you did it!” Chelsea cheered, a big smile on her face as she pulled you into a hug the moment you got close enough to the group. “And y/n, I can promise you that he doesn’t look at you like some little sister or his brother's best friend, you should’ve seen the way he looked at you after you guys took the shot.”

“He found them,” Shannon gasped, nudging Taryn’s elbow and nodding towards where you’d just left. “Or he at least knows you put something in his pocket– nope, he’s looking, he’s looking!”

You looked over your shoulder to catch Matt looking at you, but all you could do was wink and turn back around before he saw you blush. “Does this mean I lost the dare or won it?”

“Girl, you literally took your panties off for a guy and shoved them in his back pocket,” Madison, another bridesmaid said, handing you a shot. “You just won everything.”

So tonight, your sole purpose was really to just survive the night without buying into any awkward encounter with Matt. It was bad enough that the conversation you both had in your room as he stood there waiting for you to finish getting ready was awkward, you really didn’t need that to happen again in front of friends and neighbors. Once you guys got inside of the Tkachuk’s home, you split off from him using checking in with your parents as an excuse. Which you did, so it wasn’t totally a lie. But after that small check in with your parents and then saying hello to Keith and Chantal, you avoided Matt like the plague.

If you were talking to someone and he was also talking to someone nearby? You excused yourself from the conversation or somehow got them to move a little bit further away. He happened to walk up or be called into a group you were standing in, you easily just excused yourself and topped up on your champagne or found other people to talk to. After the third time, you started to think that maybe Matt got the hint because you were finding yourself catching him more across the room from wherever you were, rather than just a few feet away.

Unfortunately, just because you’d kept your distance didn’t mean that every so often when you looked across the room, and you’d find him talking to someone in attendance, you wouldn’t stare at him or try to sneak looks. Part of you wanted to know if any part of him felt the least bit guilty of what happened between you two, not that he needed to feel guilty about anything except for maybe not walking you down…even though he didn’t need to feel guilty about that either because he did offer, you just turned him down.

And the cycle continued for the first near hour of being at the party. You desperately wish that maybe he was guilty about what happened and then do some logical reasoning with yourself that there really wasn’t anything to feel guilty about. No matter how many times Brady and Taryn tried to say that there was no way Matt could just easily brush you off like he had. Yet he absolutely had and that was just unfortunately your reality. A reality you were also trying not to think too much about, but were also desperately failing at.

“Hey, we’re going to grab some refills, do you guys want anything?” Maylee asked, looking at you and Trent.

“No, I’m good,” Trent replied, looking at you. “Y/n? Refill?”

“I’m good,” you smiled, nodding your head as you held up your half full glass of champagne. “I’ve still got some to sip on.”

“Cool,” Taryn nodded, looking between you and Trent with a smile. “We’ll be back.”

“So how’s school?” Trent asked, taking a sip of his beer. “How’d you guys do this season? This was your redshirt season, right?”

“No I couldn’t redshirt, I missed the cutoff by one game, but this was my Grad season,” you replied, nodding. “And we did pretty good. Won conference, but lost in the quarterfinals in the NCAA tournament to Florida State, but they ended up winning the whole damn thing, so there’s really not that much to be upset about since we held them to OT and they won by a penalty kick. But now I’m ready for retirement.”

“And how’s the knee? Still kicking?” He smiled, trying not to laugh at his own cheesy joke. But that’s one of things you liked about Trent, he wasn’t afraid to make a stupid or silly joke and laugh at it without hesitation or wondering if anyone else would find it funny.

“It’s kicking,” you laughed, sticking your leg out and bending your knee. “You can barely tell I tore my meniscus, huh?”

Trent bent down slightly holding your knee as he poked at the scars. “Nope, as far as I can tell you’re just a total klutz and tripped on some turf.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your foot back onto the ground and nudging him as he laughed. “How’s life up in Boston?”

“It’s–”

“Mistletoe!” A voice yelled, cutting over the silence that it looked like Chantal was trying to gain by standing in front of their fireplace. The voice you instantly recognized as Matt’s.

“What was that about?” Trent asked, furrowing his brows as he took another sip of his drink.

The first person you made eye contact with was Brady, who looked shocked before he looked to his left. And slowly, every one who was standing in the living room and atrium area…were suddenly staring at you and Trent.

“Um…why are they staring?” Trent asked, leaning towards.

“OOOOOH, Trent and y/n are under the mistletoe,” Maddie, the 13-year-old you used to babysit back when she was in elementary school, teased, pointing above your heads as she whispered with her friends as if you weren’t standing two feet away from them. “Now they have to kiss.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up just enough to see that sure enough, the two of you were standing directly under the mistletoe and your stomach dropped into your shoes. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, staring at you and practically burning holes in your skin as if they were all waiting to see whether or not you and Trent were going to partake in the Christmas tradition or be the Grinch’s of the Tkachuk’s Christmas Eve party.

“Well, it is a Christmas tradition,” Chantal said, giving the both of you a reassuring look as she nodded.

Your gaze followed over to where Brady had looked and you caught Matt’s eyes and for the first time all night, you could see the guilt that you’d been desperately hoping he’d feel even a tiniest ounce of. And you didn’t feel happy that he was feeling as bad as you, you only felt embarrassed.

“But however, anyone caught under the mistletoe in this house is by no means required to kiss whoever they’re under there with unless they want–”

You turned away from Matt and towards Trent, reaching up and cupping both sides of his face, giving him a ‘just go with it’ look before pulling him closer to you and kissing him, counting down from ten in your head as the sounds of mingled applause, cheers and whistles filled your ears. You’d kissed Trent before, many times the last two summers when the two of you would hang out or go on a date or two, so this wasn’t new. And neither was the fact that there were no butterflies, no fireworks and kissing Trent had absolutely nothing on kissing Matt, now that you knew what it felt to do so. You barely made it to three when you pulled away from Trent, no longer picturing in your head who you were actually kissing, but instead, picturing Matt.

“Well, way to keep up with the Christmas spirit,” Chantal said, clearing her throat as she looked at you with a surprised look before turning back to everyone else with a smile. “And with that, we’re going to go ahead and start Secret Santa here in about five minutes, so everyone go ahead and get what you need and we’ll get started once everyone is back.”

You and Trent both stood in your places as everyone started to move around the room, and the moment he looked over at you, you immediately finished off your champagne. “So uh…” he said, clearing this throat as he looked at his beer. “I think you’re great and all, and the last two summers were cool and you know, we had feelings and stuff but uh, I actually have a girlfriend back in Boston…”

Your eyebrows raised and your eyes widened as you felt your face start to heat up from the embarrassment of both unknowingly kissing a taken guy and the fact Trent thought that you kissing him meant you were still interested and not as a way to save your asses while also getting back at Matt…despite the fact you’d both had the ‘this was fun, let’s be friends?’ conversation before you went back to school.

“I’m sorry, I–” you shook your head, desperately trying to keep calm. “I didn’t know and I just thought it would get everyone to stop staring at us and…”

“Y/n, relax it’s fine, I’ll explain the mistake to her and she’ll be cool with it,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “But if you’re looking for a relationship, I know someone you might be interested in. One of my teammates–”

“Hey Trent,” Brady smiled, coming up to the both of you and patting Trent on the shoulder before looking at you. “Y/n. What a show there, you guys definitely brought the Christmas spirit.”

“Thanks,” you replied, not afraid to hide the daggers you were glaring his way.

“I was just telling y/n that my girlfriend won’t mind once I explained what happened,” Trent replied, Brady struggling to hide his smile as you continued to glare at him. “And that I have a teammate she might be interested in–”

“That sounds really great and all, but my mom wanted me to ask y/n if she could go grab some more champagne from the basement,” Brady replied, turning towards you. “What do you say? Think you can help?”

Without questioning just why Chantal was wanting you to be the one to go grab more champagne for the party, you nodded. “Absolutely. Trent, it was great to see you,” you smiled.

“You too, y/n, and really, don’t worry about it.” He nodded.

Once you turned your back away from Trent, the smile you’d kept on your face fell and you just ducked your head down and made your way through the party guests, hoping to avoid your parents from the show you put on and anyone else who might want to stop you from getting the champagne you were also more than eager to refill your flute of. You turned down the hallway, walking up to the basement door and opening it, not bothering to close it as you carefully made your way down the steps, holding the railing so you wouldn’t trip.

You were no stronger to where Keith and Chantal kept the alcohol in the house. Thanks to summer parties in the Tkachuk’s backyard or basement and all the times before when you’d help set up for whatever party Chantal was putting together. There were however, two absolute rules you knew no one ever went against when it came to the alcohol: don’t touch Keith’s rum and don’t touch his whiskey. The rest was absolutely fair play. However, you wouldn’t be going behind the makeshift bar for the champagne, instead, you knew Chantal kept the champagne for the party chilled in the fridge near the wine rack, that was just around the corner of the bar.

“Shoot, I should’ve asked how many bottles,” you mumbled, opening the fridge and seeing a fair amount. You grabbed three, tucking one against your side and grabbing the other two, holding one in each hand before nudging the fridge door closed and walking back around the corner.

“Hey,” you stopped and looked up from the champagne bottles to see Matt standing just in front of the bar, a frown on his face. “Can we talk?”

You almost fell for his stupid blue eyes and the way they were filled with that same guilt you’d seen in the living room, but then you remembered how he put you in the spotlight and used that small feeling to somehow, by the skin of your teeth, not fall for them. “No.”

“Y/n, come on,” he said, stepping in front of you as you tried to pass. “Just give me five minutes, please.”

“No, but for the record I forgive you for embarrassing Trent and I up there, so your five minutes aren’t needed.” You replied, trying to step by him again, only for him to follow you. “Matthew–”

“I don’t care about what happened up there. I-I mean I do, it was an accident, but only because Brady’s an idiot and I was trying to get him to move you and Trent out from the mistletoe.”

You smiled sarcastically nodding your head. “And how did that work out for you?” When he didn’t reply, you shook your head and sighed, brushing by the defeated Matt. “I need to get these upstairs for your mom.”

“Actually…you don’t,” he said, turning around. “I had Brady lie to you about my mom needing champagne so I could get you alone down here because you’ve been avoiding me all night and I need to talk to you.”

You kept your back to him, hoping he couldn’t see the moment that the confession came from his mouth. That one part of you that had been dying for him to explain himself, was now being overpowered by the other part of you that was too embarrassed from being turned away to want to hear it. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh cut the shit, y/n,” he scoffed. “You know damn well there’s something to talk about.”

“Actually Matthew, I don’t,” you replied, not bothering to hide the harshness in your voice when you said his name. “Because why would we need to talk about something that’s never happening again?”

“See? There it is right there!” He huffed, the sound of his arms hitting his sides following soon after. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Stop acting so ignorant–”

“I’m not acting ignorant, Matthew,” you replied, whipping around to face him. “Just because I don’t want to stand here while you try to apologize for something you made very clear was never happening again, doesn’t make me ignorant. I don’t owe you anything and I’m pretty sure we agreed not to talk about it again.”

“I never said I wasn’t going to talk about it,” he replied, shaking his head. “But clearly what happened that night didn’t mean a damn thing to you because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague since we got to the party.”

“You kicked me out of your apartment after brushing off the fact that you had sex with me–”

“We had sex. You weren’t exactly opposing any–”

“Fine whatever, that we” you replied, sarcasm dripping heavily off your tongue as you rolled your eyes. “Had sex all over your apartment and said it was never happening again because of what? I’m your little brother’s best friend? That stupid 13 year-old-girl who used to wear your number on her face at your games? You had sex–”

“We–”

“I don’t care, Matthew!” You yelled, shrugging your shoulders since you couldn’t exactly throw your arms in the air. “The details don’t matter because you’re the one who treated me like I was some random girl you picked up at a bar. Yeah you cuddled with me and let me stay the night and housed me until Taryn could pick me up, but in the end when it really mattered, you treated me like you probably treat every other girl. So excuse me if I don’t want to stand here and listen to you try and make yourself feel better for your shitty actions.”

“Jesus,” Matt ran his hands down his face before bringing them up to his hair and running his fingers through it. “You came on to me, y/n! At the bar that night? You were the one who–”

“It was a dare, Matthew!” You cut him off, feeling yourself get angry. “Putting my panties in your pocket–”

“I’m not talking about the damn panties, y/n! I’m talking about what happened afterwards,” he replied, looking at you as he shook his head, the anger no longer on his face. “What happened outside the bar and why the hell we ended up at my place in the first place. You kissed me–”

“No, you kissed me first!”

Matt stepped towards you, his towering frame freezing your own feet to the ground as he stood barely half a foot away, he was so close you could breathe in that stupid cologne that you loved so much. “That’s not what happened and you know it,” He reached up with his left hand, hesitating at first until he saw you didn’t move or tell him to back away. His Adams apple bobbed as he moved his hand towards your face, bringing his palm against your cheek and you felt the rough calluses soft against your cheek. “Y/n…” he spoke softly, blue eyes staring into your own as his dark lashes touched the tops of his cheeks with every blink.

The group of you all took two more rounds of shots, laughing and getting to know each other more and finding out Chelsea’s wedding plans, not bothering to move out onto the dance floor but keeping your places at the small table they’d claimed as your own and you and Taryn had joined.

You were nursing your rum and coke, leaning against the table and listening to Taryn tell you, Chelsea, Shannon and Abigail about the time she caught you and Brady having your first kiss when you were 11 and how their Dad wouldn’t stop teasing you both about it for weeks afterwards, when Shannon perked up, eyes wide and a smirk on her face.

“Uh oh, we’ve got an intruder coming over,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink and looking over your shoulder. “Don’t freak now, y/n, but you’ve got a visitor.”

Before you could look over your shoulder to see who it was, you smelled his cologne and then felt his hand on your lower back and gracefully moved off to your hip as his breath fanned out against your ear. “Hey, can I get you alone for a sec?”

You nodded, putting your drink on the table and turning to face him, chests meeting as you felt the group of friends practically stare holes into the back of your head. “Mhhm, lead the way.”

Matt kept his hand around your waist as he led you away from the group, keeping you close to him as you walked through the crowded bar before reaching the hallway down towards the bathrooms, walking towards the end and out the back patio door where few people were outside due to the chilly weather, even despite the flamed lamps that provided some heat.

“What’s up?” You asked, swallowing the knot in your throat as you heard the thumping of the music from inside the bar, trying to ignore the couple who were finishing up smoking their cigarettes.

“Uh, well um,” Matt cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure you’re good and not too far gone.”

“Really?” You frowned, crossing your arms before playing off the slight disappointment and nudging him with your elbow. “College may have strengthened my tolerance, but you and Brady are the ones who started it. I learned from the best.”

Matt laughed, nodding his head. “Well, you did outbeat us both on a keg stand.”

You watched the small puffs of hot breath leave his mouth as he looked anywhere but you. “Are you sure that’s what you wanted to talk about?” You asked, reaching out and touching his forearm. “Just…to check on me?”

When he finally looked at you, the cigarette couple had finally left the two of you out there alone and you saw his Adams apple bob as his left arm reached back and when he brought it back forward, your red thong was dangling from his index finger. “These?”

You froze for just a moment, the slight panic running through your chest and the many what if’s scenarios popping up in your head, but at the memory of Shannon and the rest of the girls commending you on your feat, you pushed it all back and looked at him through your eyelashes. “I meant what I said, Matty. Those are for you.”

He blinked in disbelief and his Adams apple bobbed up and down with each gulp he took to buy himself some time to reply, or even react– if there was anything to say. And with each passing second, your small wave of confidence started to crash.

“Well, if you don’t want them,” You sighed, reaching up for your panties. “Then I’ll take them–”

“I didn’t say that,” Matt finally spoke, raising his arm a little higher so they were out of your reach and you were pressed against his chest, his right hand resting on your hip, his thumb brushing against the material of your bodysuit. “I just–”

“Then what?” You asked softly, looking up at him, your left hand brushing against the inside of his forearm. “What is it?”

Matt stared at you as you carefully reached up, grabbing the silk material from his fingers and then reached behind him and tucked them back into his back pocket. Before pulling away from him, you leaned against his ear, letting your lips brush against his cool skin and feeling the stubble from his beard scratch against them. “I meant it when I said they’re yours,” you whispered, kissing the skin just by his ear and smiling. “And I am too if you want me.”

You were barely able to lean back when you felt his grip on your hip tighten and his left hand come up to the side of your face, his calloused palm soft against your skin as he looked at you. “And if I want you right here and now?” He spoke, voice gravelly like his throat had been dry.

“Then at least have the decency to make sure I don’t get frostbite on my ass,” you smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “The last thing I need is for my parents to get an insurance bill and I have to explain why I suffered frostbite on my ass.” You cleared your throat as Matt smiled. “You see Mom and Dad, when two people get drunk enough they decide that they can have se–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt said, leaning into you and your back resting against the snow covered wooden railing. “I’m stone cold sober.”

“Hm, so if I kiss you right now, you’re telling me that I won’t taste some sort of liquor on you? Maybe even cranberry juice for the vodka?” You replied, tilting your chin up slightly. “Because I’m willing to bet that I will.”

Matt tilted his head to the side as he stuck out his bottom lip just slightly, seeming to dare you to do it. “I don’t know, or you could just take my word for it?”

You moved your face closer to him, his hand still resting on your cheek as your noses brushed and you looked at him. “Too bad I’m a betting kind of woman,” you whispered, pulling away just barely and sneaking a glimpse down at his mouth. When you looked back, his eyes were darker almost, but they were still locked on you, daring you to make the move.

And when you did, it was everything that the pre-teen, teenaged and last week versions of you ever could have imagined. You’d always just known that Matt had the softest lips and that even with the simple touch, despite the cold weather, the kiss both warmed you and sent chills down your spine. He held onto your face as he deepened the kiss, sighing into it as he held you closer to him like he was almost desperate to be touching you more than he already was. Your left hand moved up to cup the side of his face, feeling his beard against your palm as your right hand moved to slide beneath his shirt, both of you pulling back from the kiss to catch your breath.

“So?” Matt asked, breathing heavily as he held you close to him. “What’s the verdict?”

“I taste a little bit of cranberry in there,” you replied, a smile on your face. “But I think I might need a few more tests to really figure it out.”

Matt leaned back in and kissed you again, his right hand moving from your hip to between the two of you, and you felt his hand tugging at the button of your jeans, getting it undone in record time before you leaned back just enough to look at him as he moved his hands into your pants. “What are you doing?” You asked, looking down at his hand as you felt him move your bodysuit to the side, his cold fingertips brushing against you.

“Just testing a theory,” he whispered, moving his hand deeper into your pants before you felt his index finger brush softly against your lips, yet to touch you where you were wanting him the most. “If I were to just dip my finger in for a split second, would I find you dripping all because of me?”

This time you were the one that gulped as you met his gaze and nodded, that cocky smirk on his lips that you’ve loved since you could remember as he kept the slow torturous brushing of his finger. “I don’t know,” you replied, echoing his earlier statement. “Or you could just take my word for it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted even higher as he slid his index finger through your folds only once before pushing it inside of you, your left hand moving from his face to his shoulder, gripping it tightly as you gasped from the cold feeling. He pumped his finger inside of you twice just as slowly as he’d done previously before removing his hand out of your pants and sliding your bodysuit back into place, bringing his right hand up to his face and putting his index finger into his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his finger as he kept his gaze on you.

“So?” You replied, chest rising and falling from the action as if you’d run a marathon and as Matt reached back down between you and re-zipped and buttoned your jeans. “What’s the verdict?”

He reached up and tucked stray pieces of hair, the wind blew into your face, behind your ears and leaned in and kissed you again, his tongue softly brushing against your own before he pulled away just barely. “I think we should go back to my place so I can get a few more tests in.”

You nodded your head, a smile on your face as you reached your left arm up and rested your hand on the nape of his neck, brushing your fingers through some of his curls. “Take me home, Matty.”

“Y/n, come on,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Let me apologize…let’s just talk, please?”

You wanted to talk. You wanted to be able to stand there and let him say whatever it was he needed to say because you remembered him telling you to your face while lying in his bed that being with you was so much more different than any other times he’s had girls in his bed, because it was real. And then there was the blurry memory you weren’t sure of if it was a dream or not of laying there in his arms after the last time and hearing him tell you that he loved you. Everything in you was wanting to stand there to hear what he had to say, because you’d been craving for any sort of answer from the moment you watched the elevator doors close as he stood there and waved at you from his apartment door.

But when you zoned back in and met his eyes, it was like standing in the front hall of his apartment all over again when he told you that your night together was only a one night stand and it was never going to happen again. And every ache and pain and stupid sad song that made you want to cry on that uber ride to the airport and every minute between security and that plane ride back to St. Louis– every passing minute until right now, came crashing down and you couldn’t.

All you wanted to do was cry.

“I need to get the champagne upstairs,” you spoke softly, shaking your head and turning away from him. “I need to–”

“Y/n, please–”

“No, Matthew!” You yelled, reaching out to smack his hand away as he went to grab your wrist, instantly dropping the bottle of champagne that had been tucked against your side down onto the floor and feeling it splatter all over the floor, your shoes and your legs. “Great, now look at what you made me do.”

“Y/n let me just get the broom from the closet and–”

“Getting the broom isn’t going to fix this! It’s not going to magically get rid of all the glass o-or the champagne like it never happened!” You snapped, looking down at the shattered bottle on the floor, squatting down carefully and resting the other two bottles on the ground before you started to pick up the bigger pieces of glass, keeping your head down as you felt the tears burn in your eyes. “It’s not going to do anything but make a bigger mess. Just because you apologize doesn’t mean that it wipes away the fact that you hurt me when you said it would never work and instead of just talking about it, you immediately brushed me off as one of your many one-night stands.”

“Y/n–”

“Because it hurt, Matthew, it really fucking hurt,” you sniffled, continuing to pick up larger pieces of glass carefully and dropping them into the bottom half of the bottle that didn’t break.

“What was I supposed to think, y/n? You tried to leave me alone in my bed first!” He replied, coming back from the storage closet with a broom. “Did you forget that?”

“I was scared, Matthew!” You cried, looking up at him. “I was scared of what you’d say because of what you said to Sam at that stupid team party two Christmases ago. I was scared that you’d wake up, see me there and realize it was a mistake.”

“I wouldn’t–” he rested the broom against the bar, shaking his head. “I didn’t…you misunderstood what I said to Sam–”

“So I don’t mean anything to you? The only relationship we have is that I’m Brady’s friend?” You asked, throwing the pieces of glass into the bottle. “Oh and what was that last thing you said? That’s right, I was better off going home with Sam than staying at the party. What about any of that did I misunderstand?”

“Misunderstood was the wrong word, you just–” he huffed, walking over and squatting down, helping you pick up the pieces. “You missed what I said after.”

You kept your head down, continuing to carefully pick up the shards of glass and put them in the empty bottle. “I don’t care.”

“I told him I didn’t mean it, any of it…what I said,” he replied, putting a piece into the jar before stopping and looking at you.

“You still said it,” you replied, looking at him and shrugging. “And I still don’t care.”

“Damn it, y/n, I told him I didn’t like you okay? I told him that I didn’t like you…” You froze as the confession came out, a heavy pause as you heard him take a deep breath and you blinked through the hot tears in your eyes as you continued picking up the few remaining chunks of glass. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Your head snapped up at the words, and the moment you met with those same guilt ridden blue eyes, you felt sick to your stomach. “No,” you replied, shaking your head and looking back down at the glass.

“Y/n–”

“No! You-you can’t just say that because you want me to listen to you!” You yelled, throwing down the piece of glass in your hand into the bottle, taking a sharp inhale and looking down at your hand to see a cut across the bottom half of your palm, the sight of blood trickling out being the final straw as the tears broke from your eyes. “Damn it.”

“Shit, y/n come on, let me–”

“Don’t touch me!” you yelled, turning away from him as you tried to stand yourself up, Matt being quicker and coming up beside you, holding onto your left elbow and pulling you up. And no sooner than you were on your feet, did you shove him away. “Get away from me, Matthew! I mean it.”

“Hey, they’re starting Secret Santa,” Brady said, coming down the stairs and stopping just at the end when you and Matt were in view. “What’s going on?”

“Brady, it’s not,” Matt said, shaking his head as he watched his younger brother take in the scene in front of him. You in tears, Matt looking frustrated and a broken bottle of champagne on the ground and blood dripping from your right palm. Brady looked at Matt, the anger all over his face. “Brady I swear–”

“I don’t care, Matt,” Brady replied, walking over behind the bar and opening a drawer where Keith often kept rags to dry off the surface, grabbing one and walking back over to you, taking your hand and placing the folded rag against your palm, putting your other hand on top of it. “Mom’s got that kit in the kitchen. Dad’s in there now, we’ll go see if he’ll check it out for you.”

You nodded as he used another rag, wiping at your cheeks to save you from the embarrassment of walking up there with tears streaming down them. “Thanks Brae,” you whispered, turning around without giving Matt a second look.

When his brother looked at him again, Matt felt his stomach drop and he shook his head as he came over. “Brady, I swear to God it’s not what it looks like,” he spoke quietly. “Ask her and she’ll–”

“No,” Brady replied just as quiet, tossing the extra rag back onto the bar and shaking his head. “I meant what I said, Matt. You fuck it up again and I’m not helping anymore. I’m on her side on this.” He walked back over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s get it cleaned up. Don’t want you missing the awesome gift I got you for Secret Santa.”

You laughed softly, letting Brady lead you up the basement stairs and trying your best not to give a second thought to Matt, who you’d left behind and his confession of what supposedly happened at the team party years ago. And as much as you wanted to believe it, you just couldn’t. It was too convenient of him to say that, because he knew it’d get you to sit there and listen to him apologize. He would be dumb not to know of your feelings for him all these years, because it wasn’t a secret to anyone else.

But believing that it was all a ruse to get you to stay there, hurt a lot less than believing it was true and him still sending you away from his apartment like that. Because if he’s really loved you all these years, it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to brush you off and send you away like that.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Matt was wrecked, there was no other way to put it.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe he’d expected that you would get angry with him when he tried to apologize, but he didn’t expect it to go that far. Nowhere in his plan was he supposed to tell you how he felt– at least not yet. But he did and you reacted just like he thought you would, you freaked out. And he didn’t blame you one bit. If it were him, he would’ve thought exactly what you did–that he said it just to get you to give him a chance to talk.

But that’s not what it was and it wasn’t what he meant. He just…he panicked. You weren’t listening to him, you were getting frustrated, he was frustrated, and then the champagne bottle shattered and you started crying and it was…it broke his heart. He’s seen you cry before at seemingly all stages of life– as a toddler when Brady stole your favorite stuffed animal, as a kid when you wiped out hard at the lake during tubing. As a teenager when he walked in on you crying in his mom’s arms because your parents had to drive an hour north because your Grandmother was taken to the hospital after a fall and needed emergency surgery on her hip. As an adult, when you lost in the quarterfinals of what was your last season playing soccer ever.

But this was the first time that you were crying because of him and it broke him.

He put the remaining bottom half of the champagne bottle onto the bar, sweeped up the mess, tossed a few towels down onto the floor and soaked it up before grabbing the other two bottles and made his way up the stairs, his mom getting ready to walk down and catching him by surprise.

“Oh, thank you Matthew, I was just coming down to get some more!” She smiled, taking the two bottles from him and kissing his cheek.

“It’s no problem, mom.” He nodded, pointing down the stairs. “One dropped, but I cleaned it up.”

“That’s okay, we’ll mop it up later. But we’ve only just started Secret Santa, go ahead and join everyone in the living room,” she smiled, rubbing his arm before turning back down the hall to make her way into the kitchen.

He just nodded and waited for her to get out of his view before making his way into the crowded living room, easily slipping amongst the guests where he was able to grab the present he’d brought for you back under the tree and then stayed at the back of the crowd. Once he saw you, Brady, his mom and his Dad walk out of the kitchen, he kept his eyes on you, Brady staying close to your side like he was your own personal watchdog as the two of you stopped beside Taryn and Maylee. He could see you had a wrap across your palm and based on the relaxed states of his Dad and Brady, he figured you must not need stitches.

But once two more people took their turns to exchange gifts, Matt slipped back out into the kitchen and then out the sliding glass door into his backyard undetected. It was cold, but he didn’t expect to be out long. He left his own backyard and made his way across the street to your house, finding that spare key once more before letting himself in. Closing the door behind him, he made his way up the stairs and back into your room, walking over to your bedside table where your macbook was sitting and placing the red gift bag on top.

After making an adjustment to your gift, he left your room, he jogged back down the stairs and out your front door. He locked the door and put your spare key back in its hiding place before jogging back across the street and opening their second garage with the code. Unlocking his car, he got inside and started it, pulling out into the empty driveway before closing the garage from the opener hanging on his sun shield. He pulled a little further out of the driveway so he wasn’t so close to the house and just out onto the street. As he waited in his car for it to warm up enough so he could drive, Matt looked towards the house where he could partially see the party still going on through the blinds. He barely caught a glimpse of Brady walking up to the tree, picking up his gift with a smile before announcing who he had. And when you walked over to him, the same sad smile you had in the elevator days before on your face as you greeted him with a hug, Matt put his car into drive and pulled away.

He missed Secret Santa.

He missed Secret Santa because he had to drive into town and try to get into Michaels when they were five minutes from closing and the little old lady who was locking up early tried her damndest to keep him out. But he pleaded his case, all but telling her his entire life story with you and she let him buy what he needed to– a few white poster papers, a pack of sharpies and a glue stick– then he went back home, parked his car back into the garage and walked back into the house the way he snuck out– out through the sliding glass door in the kitchen and then went back down in the basement, figuring he’d wait for the party to clear out before making his way upstairs.

It wasn’t as simple as he thought though. Once he thought he gave everyone at the party enough time to leave, he grabbed the art supplies and stood up off of the couch, ready to make his way upstairs, only for the basement door to open first. Matt was nervous that it was going to be Brady who was walking down the steps, not quite ready for whatever it was he had to say that he didn’t want to or couldn’t say in front of you and was more relieved when it turned out to be his mom instead. Checking on him to see why he didn’t come up for Secret Santa. Matt just told her he felt a little tired and nauseous, maybe not eating enough before drinking his beers and took a nap on the couch, only just waking up a few minutes ago.

His mom believed it, told him that Trent got his gift and that his gift was waiting for him upstairs if he wanted to open it. He helped her put the one champagne bottle they didn’t need, away before walking back up the basement stairs with her where Matt immediately saw your parents still walking around, helping with the clean-up and panicked that maybe you’d stayed as well. He found out that wasn’t the case when his mom had him follow her into the kitchen to grab the trash to take out before he could go upstairs for the night. Brady and Taryn were snacking on whatever small amounts of food were left of the charcuterie boards, both of them giving him a look but never really saying anything else before he left to throw the trash away.

Your parents were walking out of the front door when he’d come back and that’s when he asked about whether or not you were still inside. They told him that you’d left around the first group of people, saying you’d had a headache and just needed to go to bed, but that you’d be over with them tomorrow for the early Christmas dinner. He said goodnight to the both of them before walking back into his own house and saying goodnight to his family, grabbed the present his mom had pointed out that was from his Secret Santa and then walked upstairs and into his own room, closing the door for the night.

Not like he even slept that well anyway. Once he heard everyone go to their own rooms, he left his to shower and change over, passing out in his own bed only to wake up after a few hours of constantly restless tossing and turning and being fully awake at 6:30 Christmas morning. And after going to the bathroom and returning to his bedroom that’s when he picked the Secret Santa present back up that he’d rested on top of his dresser. It was a fairly large rectangle shape and wrapped up in St. Louis Blues wrapping paper– knowing immediately that it was probably someone’s version of a practical joke since he clearly didn’t play for them. There wasn’t a tag to say who it was from, part of him feeling guilty for missing out on it since he could thank whoever got it for him, but he could always just ask his mom.

Fully unwrapped, it was in a cardboard box and when he lifted the lid up, he saw a two pack of small winter puff coats koozies called cold beer coats that were lying on top of dark blue tissue paper and on top of a simple white card that said ‘Merry Christmas’ written in gold script. He picked the card up and opened it, his heart dropping the minute he saw what was written inside.

Because it was your handwriting. You were his Secret Santa.

‘Merry Christmas, Matt. Hope the koozies keep your hand warm but the beer cold and that this gift brings a little piece of home with you in Calgary.

~ y/n.

P.S. Please at least use anything other than bud light. It’s not THAT good, but since it’s your go-to, I’ve already got you started on your collection.’

He peeled back the two pieces of tissue paper and was greeted with a plywood beer cap holder that was carved into your guys’ home state of Missouri, bottle cap sized holes covering the entire thing. Suddenly the bud light comment made sense and he found himself laughing as he held up the plywood state, staring at the bud light bottle cap that you’d placed dead center of the board. He could easily see this on the wall of his apartment, the one just by the island bar of his kitchen and no matter how hard he tried to imagine himself being the one to put the new bottle caps into a slot, you were in there too, a proud smile on your face as you put the new bottle cap in, then turning around with an even bigger smile and pointing at the spot proudly.

Which was instantly wiped away when he remembered seeing you upset last night. The tears on your face as you yelled at him and told him how bad he had hurt you. And then that guilt and hurt was only made worse now that he knew you were his Secret Santa and he could only imagine how it must have felt when you called his name to come up and get his gift…and he never showed. Twice in one night did he embarrass you, and three times in the last two days did he hurt you. And it killed him.

Matt put the present back into the box and carefully covered it up with tissue paper and closed the lid. He left the box on his bed before leaving his room and going downstairs. He put on his boots and grabbed his winter coat from the closet just by the front door, zipping it up and making his way out of his house, not caring that the sun was barely starting to rise or how cold it was outside. He wanted to talk to you, needed to.

He was just hoping you’d give him the chance to.

Last night was absolutely…just not what you thought it would be. Sure, you expected it to be a little bit weird being around Matt after everything that went down with the two of you in his apartment. But you definitely didn’t expect it to turn out the way it did. Matt cornering you in the basement, pleading his case to talk after having Brady lie to you to grab more champagne just so he could get you alone. Dropping one of the champagne bottles and having it shatter when reliving the memory of how the two of you ended up at his apartment in the first place– that rush of emotions from kissing him for the first time and then remembering what happened the morning after too much for you to be able to stand around and listen to him try to apologize. Matt saying that he’s been in love with you for years.

Not one night feelings, not a crush, not even just simply liking you– love. Matt, Brady’s older brother, your longtime crush turned second best friend. That him telling you he loved you when you were half asleep in his bed…wasn’t a dream, it was real. And then hearing him say it again in a panic, it didn’t make your heart flutter or make you want to jump into his arms and kiss him– it made you feel so deeply hurt that you felt nauseous. You’d believed it for a second, one small second, but then you realized what if he’d only said it because he was scared you would leave that basement and avoid him for however long you did this time?

It only made matters worse when after crying in the kitchen while Brady told Keith that you’d accidentally cut your hand after dropping a champagne bottle, a lie but one that worked, only minutes later that Brady was called so early in Secret Santa and he had you…which meant you would have to give your gift to Matt minutes after the fiasco that happened in the basement. Only, when you had picked up the present you’d gotten for him two months earlier and said his name, he didn’t come up to you. And when you looked around the room, he was nowhere to be found. You ended up putting the present beneath the tree and told Trent that Matt had him, Brady able to remember which present was his and the activity moved on with ease…but you spent the rest of your night locked in your own head.

And when the first break of partygoers started to leave, you took that as your window to leave as well. Claiming you had a headache and just needed to get some sleep before walking out the door with all of those guests who’d brought their children with them to the party.

Yeah, you’d left with all the kids but it was what you needed because you barely made it through the front door of your house before you started crying again. You cried dropping the shoes you’d taken off at the first front porch step. You cried walking up the stairs and struggling to unzip your dress, just dropping it on your bathroom floor to take a shower (which you also cried in). The crying went on and on from shower, to taking off your make-up, finally easing up when you got changed into your pajamas and locked yourself in your room to crawl into bed and just watch older seasons of the Bachelorette to hurt your feelings some more.

It was right after you’d crawled into bed and turned on your tv and HBO Max…when you saw the familiar red gift bag on your bedside table. It was the same red gift bag that Matt had been holding in his hands hours earlier when he’d come over to see if you were ready to head to the party. As the first episode of Hannah B’s season started to play out, you sat yourself up and stared at the bag…contemplating whether or not to open it.

On one hand, you were still incredibly hurt and pissed at him, even more so now since he clearly found his way back into your room just to drop this off without you knowing it. But on the other, you were nosey and wanting to know what it was…and even after everything that happened in the basement, clearly you having this present was important since he’d dropped it off sometime in the night.

You grabbed the strings of the bag and rested it in your lap, the white tissue paper sticking out of the top of it not showing what was inside the bag. You pulled the paper out, placing it on the bed beside you and just stared at what was inside. You pulled out the white Apple iPhone box out of the bag and put it down on top of your comforter, pulling off the lid and revealing a light blue iPhone 13 Pro Max.

He’d bought you a new phone. And not even just a new phone, but the newest iPhone model and one that was at least four models newer than your iPhone 11 Pro Max.

You looked inside the bag, making sure it was empty before putting the lid back on the box and then the box back into the gift bag, ready to put the tissue paper back in too before you noticed what looked like folded notebook paper peeking out from beneath the tissue paper. You pulled it out from beneath it and flipped it over to see your name written on it in Matt’s scribbled handwriting. Your heart was thumping against your chest as you started to slowly unfold the three folded notebook paper, and seeing two pages was filled with his writing.

‘Y/n,

I’m sorry. This probably won’t be the first time that I say it in this letter, but I wanted to start off with that, because that’s what I am (amongst other things I’m sure you’ve called me to B and T, but all deserved) and that’s what I feel. I can’t explain why I acted the way I did, because the one thing that I didn’t do that I should have done, is sit you down and talk. But instead, nervous and scared of how our night together probably freaked you out because of our long history…I took the easy way out by joking with you about it and then never giving you the chance to call it anything but. The thing is though, I lied to you three times that morning. The first was when I called our night a one-night stand and said that’s all it was. The second, was when I told you that the two of us could never become a thing because it would be awkward. The final time, was when I said it was never happening again.

Because the thing is, y/n…none of that was true. I only called it a one-night stand because I thought you wouldn’t want it to become anything else. That sleeping with your best friend’s brother was going to be one of those drunken what the hell did I do moments to you, and I thought you were okay with one-night stands, because you’d alluded to previous ones– but Brady has since told me I was wrong and I’m sorry (see? I told you) because our night together was not what I said it was. Us together wouldn’t be awkward, if anything I think it would be the most natural revelationship of our lives. We fit together, you give me shit when I give it to you, you know how to humble me and there isn’t a moment I can think of where I didn’t enjoy being around you. And most of all, that night together was probably the most raw and emotional and comfortable night I’ve ever spent with someone. Like I told you, it’s different with you, y/n. Everything about us together that night was real.

I was just…scared because I heard you that morning freaking out in bed and then pacing around my bathroom. I just jumped the gun and thought that spending the night with me and waking up in my bed was your worst nightmare. And it hurt, because I’ve loved you for years, y/n. I had a small crush on you that summer before I went into sixth grade when you made me a good luck card for middle school. It was serious for me, that summer before junior year on your 14th birthday when I helped you get rid of the cake that Brady smashed in your face. I can still picture the moment where you looked at me with cake all over your face, frustrated that Brady had done it. It was cute, I’ll admit. And that night when we played 1v1 with your new mini goal set…that’s when I really felt everything change. Anytime after that when we were together, you weren’t just y/n across the street, y/n who was Brady’s best friend anymore. You were just…you.

I was a total goner for you by your senior year. I don’t know if you ever knew this or anything, but remember how you weren’t going to go to your senior prom because you didn’t have a date? And then my Mom offered me up as your date and we got a tux to match your dress and a corsage and everything like just a few days before? You thought that my mom had put me up to it…but she didn’t. It was really all my idea, but I figured that you’d probably say no if I offered…so I told my mom to ask instead. My mom didn’t pick out my tux or the corsage, I did. You thought that I’d rather have been anywhere that night, and yes, you even said it to me so I know it was true, but the truth is…I wanted to be there for you and with you. Because by then, I was in love with you and I knew it from the moment you walked down the stairs in your parents house wearing the glittery red dress with the drooped neckline and the high slit to your thigh. You told me not to make any jokes about how you’d picked a red dress and that it wasn’t because it was the Flames main color, I told you how gorgeous you looked instead. I think you knew that I meant it too, because you looked caught off guard before telling me you initially wanted the dress in a lighter blue because it looked like the one Ariel had in the Little Mermaid, but the red one was ‘perfect for you’ like you said our moms had said…and I agree.

I still remember that night, you danced the whole night with your friends, even letting me join along since you said my prom experience was ‘hockey first, student life second’ and that was the most fun I’d had in a long time. But I knew you were hesitant about dancing with just me, because anytime a slow dance came on, your feet were either tired, you had to go to the bathroom or you were thirsty and I didn’t push you because I was already nervous. But then the DJ announced that it was going to be the last slow dance of the night and there was no way I was going to let you miss out on having a slow dance at your senior prom, so I asked if you’d dance with me, and for a moment thought you’d say no like all the times before…but you said yes. It only took you until the second verse to actually relax, the whole beginning of the song you were talking about anything and everything, nervously may I add…though you tried to hide it. But by the second time the chorus came around, you had relaxed a little more, trusting that I wouldn’t step on your foot or ruin your dress or anything. And when you laid your head on my chest, I was scared that you’d feel my heart race and that when I pulled you closer, you’d step away…but you didn’t.

I was in love with you that night, and I’ve been in love with you every day and night and single moment after that. Yes, especially the night we spent together. If I would have known that you liked me or even thought of me that way…then I would’ve kissed you during that slow dance when you looked at me. I would’ve kissed you when we came back to your house and ate our McDonalds in the tree house. But I didn’t, because I didn’t want to overstep. So kissing you that night outside of the bar…it was years in the making and it was worth every year I waited– because it was perfect.

And Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer is still on my phone, by the way. I’ll never forget or delete that song.

I don’t know if writing this will do anything or if you’ll even read it (though I hope you will), but I just…wanted and needed you to know that you mean so much more to me than the way I made you believe you did. So, so much more, y/n– I can’t even put it into words. It’s not part of your Christmas presents, but I know your phone got pretty damaged from dropping it in the sink (sorry, but also not that sorry) so I bought you a new one. Consider it an I’m sorry and Merry Christmas gift.

Really, y/n…I am sorry for how everything happened and I hope that we can sit down and talk it all out like we should have from the moment you asked me why I hadn’t said anything about our night together on the couch. Because it’s what you deserve now and deserved then.

Merry Christmas and I hope you give us the chance to talk everything out, because y/n, I have a deep gut feeling that this…us…it’s meant to happen.

Love,

Matt

P.S. I’m adding this tonight (12/24) though I wrote the letter yesterday when I got home from the airport and Brady chewed me out (rightfully of course). I’m really sorry about what happened tonight, y/n. What happened in the basement, that’s…it’s not what I wanted to happen and I hate that it did because seeing you cry and knowing I was the reason, hurt. And you are the last person in this world that I’d ever want to hurt, let alone make cry. So, if you don’t want to talk to me or see me for a while, I get it and I won’t try to reach out or make Brady help get you to talk to me. Just know that I had no intention of telling you that I love you the way that I did– I swear on everything…I panicked and it came out, but it’s true. I love you, y/n. Always have and most likely always will.

There was no stopping the tears from falling down your face as you folded up his letter and put it back into the gift bag before putting the gift bag back onto your bedside table, slipping down further beneath the blanket and rolling onto your side. You didn’t watch the Bachelorette reruns, you didn’t even make it through the first episode because you spent the whole time wishing that the whole thing down in the basement never happened, because maybe if you’d read this letter before then, it would’ve made sitting down and talking it out with Matt easily possible. But it wasn’t because you were still hurt and torn between wanting to just immediately forgive him because he wrote this letter but at the same time…it still just didn’t seem real because of everything else that’s happened.

And that was all you could bounce back and forth on in your brain before ultimately crying yourself to sleep.

Which is what you would still be if it wasn’t for the loud thump that you heard coming from your window. When you first opened your eyes just barely, you saw that your TV was still on and figured that maybe it had come from whatever episode was playing. And just when you closed your eyes and started to fall back asleep…you heard another thump. Sitting up and more awake, you waited a few more moments, staring at your window to try and catch what that noise was. Only to see a snowball fly up towards your window and explode in a thump.

You checked the time, it was only a minute from seven in the morning– who in the hell would be awake at this hour or even throwing snowballs at your window? You got up, slowly walking over without turning any lights on and peeked through your sheer curtain to see a figure standing beneath your window. And the harder you looked, you recognized the dark blue winter coat– it was Matt. You moved the curtain to the side, unlocking the window and nudging it up just a little more than halfway, your heart thudding against your chest as you started to peep your head through.

And then you felt the cold snow smack against your face, the icy remnants of the snow ball turning into droplets as you exhaled and reached up to wipe the melted snow off of your face.

"Oh shit, sorry!" He called out, dropping the second snowball he had in his left hand and wiping his hands on his pajama pants.

You moved away from your window, walked towards your desk chair, and grabbed your shower towel, wiping the bits of snow and water off your face that you’d missed before walking back over and staring down at him. "What do you want?"

"Come outside."

"It's seven a.m. Matthew, the sun is barely up– no one in the neighborhood is even up yet, so why would I come outside?" You replied, crossing your arms, trying to hide how nervous you were.

He wasn’t even aware at the fact that you’d read his letter. That you knew his feelings for you and how long they’d existed. As far as he knew, you were still thinking his attempt at telling you that he loved you in the basement was a ruse and you were wanting absolutely nothing to do with him. Which, part of it was true, but only the nothing to do with him part because you were still torn on how to feel about his letter and what had happened in his apartment the morning after.

"Because I'm asking you to?" He replied, his typical sarcastic, joking tone he had. You reached up for your window, hearing him curse beneath his breath before stepping forward. "Wait y/n, don't!"

"What, Matthew?" You whispered loudly, holding onto your window, heart thudding against your chest harder as you looked down at him. "What could you possibly want from me at seven a.m. on Christmas morning, hm? It can't be to apologize, you already did that by breaking into my house, trespassing into my room and leaving a note. So if that’s what you want, then consider this me accepting your apology. And if it’s not, then it's definitely not to sleep with me because it was a one-time thing, you said it yourself– multiple times in fact. So what could you possibly want bad enough that you woke me up by pelting snowballs at my window?"

He wiped his hands against his pants again like a nervous tick as he looked away from you and down at his feet. The snow was still falling softly and you watched the snowflakes collect on his broad shoulders and lose themselves in his short curls, some falling as he subtly shifted side to side, snow crunching beneath his boots. When he finally looked up at you, you felt your heart twinge in your chest. One easy flash of his baby blues and he had you once again.

"You." He finally spoke, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "I want you."

That wasn't what you wanted to hear, but to be fair…you weren’t even sure of what you wanted to hear. Maybe it was to hear him say that he really does love you, maybe it was him retelling the moment from his letter about when he knew he loved you. Maybe it was him not even talking at all, but instead just showing you that he did, that everything in his letter was true. Just a way to help you clear out just why you were so torn up inside and so tired, so that you weren’t even sure of what you wanted or not.

But hearing him say that? That he wanted you, there were so many ways your tired heart and brain rounded up the meaning in your mind, so just as easy as his blue eyes, even from two stories down, had you wrapped around his finger again, his chosen words and reason were the knife that cut you loose. You shook your head, exhaling softly as you stepped away from your window, starting to pull it down. "Good night, Matthew."

"Y/n, wait–"

You stepped back to the window, clenching your jaw as you saw him now standing directly beneath you, shielding himself from the falling snow using the gutters along your roof. "No, Matthew, I'm not going to wait here and let my room turn into an igloo because you need to soothe your ego and apologize again. Just...go home, okay? I don't need you freezing to death on my conscience."

You backed out of his view and closed the window just enough to where he wouldn't know the difference that you had left it cracked open just a little, wanting to see if he'd still try to plead his case.

But he didn't.

Matt took a deep breath and exhaled, his warm breath fogging once it met with the cold winter air. "Merry Christmas, y/n." He spoke loud enough to where you could hear him through that small crack, followed by the sound of crunching snow beneath his feet.

And once he was gone, you closed your window the rest of the way, locked it and crawled right back into bed, to try and warm up from the cold air and maybe even fall back asleep before the smell of your parents coffee wafted up to your room, letting you know that they were awake and just waiting for you to join them downstairs. However, you were unable to fall asleep, laying in your bed for the next hour and a half before the strong aroma of coffee filled the air.

You got out of bed and over to your dresser, opening your sock drawer and grabbing yourself a pair of fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm before putting on your slippers and walking back over to your bedside table to grab your barely working phone…and also grabbed Matt’s gift bag to bring downstairs with you. You were about to walk out of your room but stopped at your closet and walked inside to grab yourself a sweatshirt since your long sleeved pajama shirt wasn’t doing you any good. A majority of your favorite and comfy sweatshirts were back in your room at your college apartment, so you were stuck with a bunch of options you’d been wanting to get rid of, contemplating just not wearing one and sucking it up…and then you saw the familiar red sweatshirt.

It was washed, dried and hanging up…ready to be given back to Matt. And you would give it back to him…just not right now because it was the only sweatshirt worthy of wearing that wasn’t too small on you or didn’t itch. So you grabbed it and draped it over your arm before walking out of your closet and then opening your bedroom door, making your way down the stairs. Today was going to be a long day, that much you knew. Every Christmas Day was always the same for as long as you could remember it.

When you were younger, Christmas morning was spent with your family, opening presents, having breakfast and enjoying each other’s company for however long it took for Brady, Matt or Taryn to come over and get you so you could all play in the show. Then you’d go back to your respective homes, wash up for the Tkachuk’s Christmas dinner party that was held at a late afternoon time, before your families would hang out for the rest of the night watching movies and playing games before going home. And your Christmases are still like that, the only difference is that none of the Tkachuk kids are coming over from across the street to ask you to play outside.

Which meant in about seven and a half hours, give or take…you’d be finding yourself in the Tkachuk’s home and around Matt, though this time there wasn’t a big crowd of partygoers to hide behind or around. It would just be your families together. Which also meant that you had the same amount of time to figure out just what you were going to say to Matt…if anything at all. But the moment you walked down the stairs and saw your parents sitting on the couch together with their coffees and greeting you with a smile, your stress about Matt was washed away. You made yourself a cup of coffee, taking the first sip and letting the peppermint creamer take over your sense as the hot coffee warmed your body before walking back into the living room, walking over to the tree and putting Matt’s present down.

“What’s that, y/n?” You mom asked, nodding at the gift bag you’d placed amongst the rest of the presents beneath the tree.

“Oh, just a present Matt dropped off last night before the party when he came to get me,” you replied, taking your seat on the far end of the sectional couch and resting his sweatshirt down next to you as you tucked your legs up beneath you. “Nothing too big.”

“I hope he’s feeling better today.” She replied, nodding. “Chantal said he missed getting your gift because he wasn’t feeling too well and fell asleep in the basement.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” your dad replied, skimming the channels for A Christmas Story. “Keith said he hadn’t eaten and was already on his fourth beer before Secret Santa. Probably just needed some food in his stomach.”

You nodded along with what he was saying as you took a long sip of your coffee, getting lost in your own thoughts as you thought back on what had happened in the basement. It went to hell, yeah, and even now looking back you could tell that Matt was nervous, panicked even as things escalated…but, and tolerance aside, maybe it was because he was drunk. And if that was the case…maybe the mistletoe thing was an accident after all instead of his own way to embarrass you like you’d thought it was despite his apologizing.

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard the doorbell ring and you took a deep breath and shook your head, exhaling. “I’ll get it.”

Your parents nodded, keeping their focus on the Christmas classic as you walked out of the living room and down towards the atrium and to the front door, unlocking it and opening it…only to not see anyone on the porch. You stepped out onto the front porch, giving you a better view of your front yard…only to see Matt standing there off to the left in snow, adjusting the St. Louis Blues beanie on top of the snowman he was standing besides head.

A snowman that looked identical to the same one you and Taryn had spent almost an hour perfecting one winter break morning when you and Brady were 12, she was 9 and Matt was 14, rightfully named Louie. Brady had gone off with Matt and his friends, deciding to play street hockey, leaving you and Taryn behind, but you two had decided to build a snowman after watching Jack Frost, hoping that maybe with a little Christmas magic, it would come to life. He already had your St. Louis Blues beanie on his head, and one of Keith’s scarves that Taryn had borrowed, and a few rocks from the bushes along the front side of the house, all you were missing was the nose. You’d both ran back inside to go and grab a carrot, coming back out to see the group of boys all huddled around and laughing at where you’d build your snowman. When you ran up, there was Louie’s head on the ground and Matt standing up with both the beanie and the puck he’d picked out from the middle of Louie’s face…in his hand. You and Taryn both spent the rest of winter break mad at Brady and Matt, no matter how many times they apologized.

Yet there Louie was, 10 years later and in all his glory…with the one who nailed the shot that ruined him in the first place, standing beside him.

Matt looked at you and even from your spot on the front porch you could see that his cheeks and nose were pink, meaning he’d been out here for quite some time. He must’ve seen the confused look on your face, because he started to walk closer to you, coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and when you went to ask him what he was doing, he held his left index finger up against his lips.

“Y/n? Sweetie who is it?” Your mom asked, her voice barely echoing out to you on the front porch.

Matt moved what looked like a stack of white poster cards out from beneath his right arm and held them in front of him, turning them around to face you where you saw there was writing on the first one. ‘Say it’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses.’

“It’s uh…the Jehovah's Witnesses.” You called out, looking over your shoulder to make sure they weren’t coming out.

“Tell them we’re good and wish them a good day!” Your dad said, but you were already looking back at Matt with furrowed eyebrows as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and tapped the screen, the one and only song you slow danced to with him at your senior prom, coming from the phone speakers.

So…he really hasn’t deleted it after all.

Matt moved the first card to the back of the rest. ‘I’ve spent the last eight years,’ he dropped the next card, ‘thinking about the girl who lives across the street,’ he moved the next card back, ‘With any luck, by next year’ he moved the card back, re-adjusting his grip on them. ‘Instead of just thinking about her,’ you could see how nervous he was as he moved the card again, ‘I’ll be lucky enough to call her my girlfriend.’

You hugged your arms close to you, still holding onto your coffee mug as the song kept playing and Matt rearranged the card to the back. ‘Because while life with her like this…’ he dropped the card to reveal the next one, which had a whole bunch of cut out pictures of the kids all together throughout the years, letting that card linger on before picking it up and moving it to the back of the stack. ‘Has been a whole lot of fun. I’d rather have a life like this…’ you could see him gulp as he moved the card, showing pictures of just the two of you.

From middle school dances where the two of you were standing next to each other all dressed up, you and him after his games with his number painted on your cheeks, you both after your soccer games where he (and Brady who was cut out of the picture) had your number painted on their chests from your club soccer team, parties at the country club, his draft day, his first NHL game, the two of you taking pictures for prom…and the newest additions, the pictures of the two of you from the bar, smiling and acting like it was only the two of you in the room.

He moved the card again, looking at the next one, ‘because she brings out the best in me and after all these years,’ Matt paused, exhaling heavily as he moved the card, ‘I’m finally ready to let her know how I feel.’ He was picking at the edge of the card before moving it and putting it at the back of the stack once more. ‘But for now let me say,’ he looked at you as the card dropped and you could see how nervous he was getting with every card. ‘without hope or agenda,’ he grabbed the next card moving it, ‘just because it’s Christmas–’ he moved the next card back, ‘(and at Christmas you tell the truth)’ another card moved to the back, ‘to me, there is no one else in this world as beautiful, kind and who can chirp me good…as you.’

Matt took a deep breath and exhaled again, moving onto the next card, ‘and no matter what happened before or what happens now or in the future,’ he moved the next card back, looking down at it before looking back up at you, ‘my wasted heart will love you,’ he had the same look in his eyes as he did when he was standing beneath your window earlier, and it was the same way he looked at you when the two of you were cuddling in his bed. ‘Whether you look like this,’ The next card had a bunch of pictures of you from your 14th birthday and on, each with your face covered in cake and Brady standing nearby in a full fit of laughter, the cake smash becoming his own tradition with you, though Matt only had to help clean your face off that 14th and 15th birthday, because as the years went on, you always immediately after ran after Brady for revenge.

He moved the card, ‘or like this,’ the next card had pictures of where you were normal looking, from everyday, to you mid-game, post-game, or all dressed up and you weren’t ignoring the fact that every picture was either just you, or at least you and Matt standing together. He moved the card, looking at it before looking up at you, a soft, barely there smile on his face. ‘It will always be you that my heart belongs to,’ he moved the card, holding onto both sides as it read simply, ‘Merry Christmas.’

You swallowed the knot in your throat as the song playing on his phone came to an end and you stared at Matt who hadn’t moved from his spot. This was the same boy who, when you were 8, convinced you to let him tie your loose tooth to a string and the string to the basement door because you couldn’t get it to come out and wanted tooth fairy money. Who knocked you off a tube at the lake at 13 and caused your new bikini top to snap and left you without a top in the middle of the water. At 16, he and Brady crashed your first date the week after your birthday by showing up to the same movie as you and sitting row behind you. At 20, broke your heart when you overheard him talking to Sam and saying you meant nothing to him. And at 22, when he made you realize just how stupidly in love you were with him, but had also left you feeling hurt and confused hours after.

Yet here he was…standing in front of your house, snow falling around him on Christmas morning and recreating one of your favorite scenes from one of your all-time favorite holiday movies, when he should’ve already been back inside with his family who no doubt was starting to wake up for their own Christmas traditions. And you…you were still coming off of reading his letter hours before and turning him away not even near two hours before. Your brain was fogged and whatever your heart was saying, couldn’t make it through. All you wanted to do was cry, but from whether it was his effort and him standing here and basically telling you he loves you no matter what happens or if it was because you were just so overwhelmed with hurt and confusion and your own feelings for him.

You opened your mouth to speak, your throat dry and you saw as he perked up a bit at the motion. You swallowed heavily again, licking your lips and then feeling your heart sink in your own chest as you shook your head with tears in your eyes. “Go home, Matt.”

His jaw dropped just barely as you watched his mouth turn into a frown as he sucked in his lips and nodded his head, his eyes at least the small glimpse of them that you got before he turned away, were showing the same panic and emotion they were last night in the basement when everything imploded.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” he said, looking at you one last time before tucking the posters underneath his arm and putting his phone in his pocket, turning around and moving to walk back across the street to his house.

“Merry Christmas,” you called out just barely, loud enough to where he could hear you and you knew that he could since you saw him stutter in a step before continuing to walk across the street.

You walked back into the house, closing and locking the door behind you before making your way into the living room, both of your parents back in the kitchen most likely refilling their coffees. You were cold from standing out in the winter air, so you grabbed Matt’s sweatshirt and tugged it on, even after washing it with your own detergent and fabric softener…it still had Matt’s cologne lingering around it. Instantly you felt yourself start to warm up and you made your way to the kitchen where sure enough, your parents were there making their coffees.

“That lasted quite a while,” your dad said, handing you the coffee pot.

“They were nice,” you replied, topping your mug off. “And it’s Christmas, I figured I’d let them say what they wanted to say. It has to be important if they’re walking out in this weather.”

“That was nice of you, y/n,” your mom replied, leaning against the counter. “Did you buy that when you guys were up visiting Matthew?”

You looked down at the sweatshirt, shaking your head. “Oh, no I had forgotten my jacket and Matt let me borrow it. I’m giving it back to him later today, but it’s the only sweatshirt in my closet that’s nearly as comfortable so…”

“Chantal sent me the pictures Matt had sent her of your guys night out before you flew home. Looks like you all had a lot of fun, it’s nice you guys were able to go up and visit with Matthew before coming back home. I’m sure he likes having a little piece of home up there with him.” She smiled, walking by and patting your shoulder as she walked out of the room.

You dad smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t think she and Chantal didn’t rave about that selfie of you and Matt together, because they did.” You just stayed quiet as you poured a little more creamer into your coffee and handed it off to him. “They even talked about whether or not the two of you were a secret item–”

“Dad,” you sighed, shaking your head as you stirred your coffee. “We’re not…that’s not…just, no.”

He laughed, nodding. “Oh trust me, I know and that’s what I said. You’ve been crushing on Matthew since we met the Tkachuk’s. I told her the last thing you’d do was keep it a secret.” He put the creamer away, turning back and walking by you. “But, y/n, if I know anything or remember anything from being a man in my 20’s…it’s that I can tell that boy really cares about you. You can see it in the pictures.”

“Dad–”

“I know, I know,” he replied, holding a hand up in defense. “You don’t want to hear from your old dad about love and boys, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you followed him out of the kitchen and into the living room, taking your seat back onto the end of the sectional and trying your best to pay attention to the movie on the tv.

The thing was, is that even as the hours ticked by and you and your parents exchanged and opened your gifts and enjoyed each other’s company, you still couldn’t get your mind off of Matt. He was there while you helped your mom make breakfast, while you and your Dad were looking at the directions on how to build the vanity light mirror they’d bought you from IKEA. When you helped clean up wrapping paper and set aside the presents you were going to take to the Tkachuk’s later for them to open. And when your mom had changed the channel from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and onto Love Actually, you’d only made it 30 minutes into the movie before you excused yourself upstairs.

It was nearing the time where you guys were set to go over to the Tkachuk’s house, maybe in another hour or two before and you knew that there was no way you would be able to spend the rest of the night and day over at their house and around Matthew, without at least talking to him first. And as you put on your boots by the front door, you were really hating yourself for not taking the time to talk to Matt after his big grand gesture.

Because while he was the boy who did all of those things you’d listed off in your mind before he was also the same boy who at 7, hung out with you at recess because Brady was home sick and a group of boys were picking on your pigtails. At 12 when he went with your parents to watch you try out for and then celebrated with you after you made your club soccer team. At 17 he took you to your senior prom when he could’ve stayed home, simply because he didn’t want you to miss out on the experience. At 21, last year and your senior season when you tore your meniscus by the near end of the season, besides your parents, he was the first one to reach out to you to make sure you were okay, even despite your guys lack of communication before then.

And then this morning…you just felt a huge wave of guilt for sending him away like that and all you wanted to do was talk to him now, reach out and let him know how you appreciated what he did and that you read his letter…tell him and ask him if it was all true, just to make sure it really was. Because despite everything he’s done, your brain was still wanting that confirmation even if your heart knew to the core it was all true, that he meant every single word.

You stared at the side of the Tkachuk’s house, having made the walk from across the street and through the gate into their backyard. You swallowed the knot in your throat as you rolled the snowball in your hands, taking a step back and throwing it up towards his window as hard as you could and watching it hit the glass before breaking apart. When there was no immediate answer, you bent back down, picking up two more, and threw up another one, watching it smash against the glass. You waited...and waited...and you were seconds away from texting Taryn or Brady to tell Matt to go into his room...when you heard the window start to open. And you waited just a few more seconds until you saw the short curls appear through the window before you threw your last snowball, hitting Matt directly in the face.

It was hard to refrain from laughing as he spit and wiped whatever snow had remained on his face-off, then fully leaned out of his window and looked down at you. "I'm going to assume that was an accident?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Assume all you want, it was definitely payback for earlier," you smiled, leaning up on the tips of your toes and putting your hands in your...well, his sweatshirt to warm them.

He laughed, a small smile appearing on his face before it disappeared just as fast. "What are you doing here? What happened to 'thanks for the heartfelt cards and for pouring your heart out to me, but go ahead and home, Matthew'?"

"I never said thank you," you joked, feeling even more nervous when you saw him sigh and shake his head, clearly still upset about you sending him home earlier.

Matt leaned further out his window, his arms resting on the sill. "You know, it took me a lot to do that...make you that snowman and then stand on your front porch, pouring my feelings out on those posters like that scene from Love Actually– which, I had to beg the old lady at the art store to let me in so I could buy them last night. Not just because of the time it took, but because I was terrified of letting you know how I feel."

"You know me, y/n. When have I ever been the guy who ever blatantly puts his feelings out there like that? I'm no open book, I know that...but I wanted to be for you." He motioned down at you, some snow falling off the window sill. "And you just let me stand there, thinking that I even had the slither of a chance of making things right with you or-or even getting to be with you for more than just a night, and then you just say 'go home, Matthew' and leave it at that."

You nodded, your hands fiddling together in the sweatshirt pocket as you nodded again. "I know."

"So why are you here, then?" He asked, looking as hurt as you felt leaving his apartment three days earlier. "I apologized for what happened, I told you how I really felt and then some. Plus, you already shut me down, so what else is there?"

You were starting to understand why he looked so nervous when he had been in your very shoes only seven hours earlier. It was scary standing here, out in the open and thinking of all the words you wanted to say as he looked at you, only for them to get stuck in your throat. It was even worse when you could see just how upset and hurt he was about your reaction to his grand gesture, and that hurt you.

Because honestly...you loved it. You loved that instead of going home like you told him to the first time, he stayed outside in your front yard and tried so hard to recreate the snowman he and his friends decapitated and destroyed with a puck. He sat on your front porch, shielding himself from the snow, and wrote down his own feelings on poster cards, recreating one of your favorite scenes from one of your favorite holiday movies. He put forth the effort to show you how much he cared about you, he was honest with you– he'd been nothing but honest with you since the moment he told you his own feelings about the night you two spent together both in his apology letter and on those poster cards.

How he's loved you for years but was too scared to ever act on it or show it.

Matt's heavy sigh broke you out of your thoughts and you looked back up at him to see him shaking his head. "Go home, y/n. I've already got enough on my conscience regarding you and I really don't need you freezing to death or catching pneumonia to be another."

When you saw him disappear from the opening of the window, your body panicked and the knot in your throat tightened as you stepped closer to the house. "Did you mean it?" You called out, voice quivering from both the cold and your own nerves.

"What?" He asked, appearing back out of the window.

"Did you mean it?" You repeated, swallowing heavily as you forced yourself to keep looking at him. "What you said in your letter…an-and when you said this morning that you wanted me...did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"And you meant it in the way where we're together...right?" You felt your nerves start to overtake you, the words and thoughts in your mind running a million miles a second. "Not just like, sleeping together, o-or being good friends, but actually being together. Me flying up to Calgary for games, being your date to team parties a-and events?"

"Y/n–"

"Because if that is what you meant, if you want me to come up to Calgary to visit for a week or two, to show me around town o-or post cute pictures on Instagram with captions like 'you're the cheese to my macaroni' or something–" the knot in your throat kept tightened as you played with your hands, trying to push through what you wanted to say as you took a deep breath and exhaled. "Because if that is what you want...then I want you too, Matt."

It was like a big weight lifted off of your chest the moment you finally got the words out, exhaling a big breath of relief as you waited for his reply. Except his face had never changed– it remained neutral. He never showed a slither or a crack in his demeanor and it worried you. And before you could say another word, Matt left the window and you heard it shut.

Now you were really beginning to understand how he felt this morning and you hated yourself for ever sending him away the first or the second time. You sucked your lips in, nodding your head before turning to your left and making your way away from Matt's window and out through the Tkachuk's backyard fence, leaving their side yard behind you. You closed the gate, turned back around, and carefully stepped out of the grass and onto the Tkachuk's driveway, not wanting to damage it anymore than the snow and winter already had.

"You're the cheese to my macaroni? That's the caption you'd go with?" You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Matt standing on the front porch, standing on the top step, dressed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, looking like he had just shoved on any pair of shoes because he wasn't wearing boots– but running shoes and they didn’t even match.

"Your nickname is Chucky...which, when I hear it I think of Chuck-E-Cheese," you replied, fiddling with your hands in the sweatshirt pocket as he started walking towards you. "Plus, everyone in the hockey world calls you a rat, right? So...cheese to my macaroni."

You swallowed heavily as you watched his face carefully for a reaction, your heart thudding against your chest when you saw him contemplate your reasoning as he came to a stop in front of you. He still had that neutral look on his face as he held his hands in his sweatshirt pocket and just looked at you.

"Um...so I totally understand if you probably hate me for making you go home twice–"

"Y/n–"

"And what happened last night, because I would be really mad at myself too. I-I mean you're totally right, you know? You just," you huffed, waving your hands at him before letting them drop by your sides. "You do the whole romantic thing, spill your feelings for me in the 20-degree weather and what do I do? I tell you to go home and I'm so sorry, Matt I swear–"

Matt laughed, crossing his arms. "Y/n–"

"But it wasn't because I didn't appreciate what you did or that I don't feel the same way, because I do. I just needed time to think, because hello, I mean this is like my childhood dream coming true that you said you love me and I just find it really hard to believe that you like me like that too, y'know? And maybe it's too late of me to tell you I want you too and that I still love you and never stopped, but–"

"Y/n!" He laughed again, this time gaining your attention.

You looked up from the shoveled-out driveway, a pout on your face. "Yeah?"

He stepped closer to you, cupping your head and tilting it up slightly so you were looking right at him. His right hand moved closer towards your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin and then your bottom lip as his eyes stayed focused on your lips before he finally looked into your eyes, laughing softly and smiling. "I love you too."

"Rea–"

His mouth pressed against yours in a searing kiss before you could even question it and it was a kiss that made your knees immediately go weak, even more so than the first kiss you shared outside of the bar in the very same weather. And just like the kiss at the bar, this one warmed you to the core the moment his lips touched yours. You pulled your hands out of the sweatshirt pocket and grabbed onto the front of his sweatshirt in hopes that you wouldn't fall and kissed him back, standing up on your toes to bring yourself as close to him as possible.

Which turned out to be a horrible idea, because it wasn't the kiss that made you feel like you were getting swept off your feet, it was the thin sheet of ice that was hidden beneath the light layer of snow in the Tkachuk's driveway sending you and Matt down to the concrete.

"Oomph," He groaned, his arms now wrapped around you tightly and holding you against him when the two of you started falling. "Ow."

"Oh my God, are you okay?" You asked, resting your hands on his chest as you sat yourself up.

"I guess my big ass is good for something," he laughed, looking at you. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but are you okay? Did you break your tailbone? Or your back? Did you hit your head?"

You reached behind you and pinched his thigh. "Can you feel that?"

Matt rolled his eyes, laughing. "Yes, I can feel that, and no I didn't hit my head or any of those other things. At least now I can say that I totally swept you off your feet or that you wanted me so bad that you tackled me in my own driveway."

"Whatever, Ratthew," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Hey," he pouted, pulling you closer. "My girlfriend can't call me Ratthew."

"You have a girlfriend?" You asked, looking around before looking back down at him. "I don't see her anywhere."

He rolled his eyes again, getting what you were saying. "Y/n, will you–"

"Um, not to ruin the moment or anything, but we totally got that on camera," Brady called out, gaining your and Matt's attention as he stood on the front porch, pointing at the camera hanging just above the garage. "Oh, and you guys should probably get up and get changed or something because y/n's parents are coming over in an hour."

"Thanks, Brady." You said, giving him a 'now please go away' look, only for him to laugh and give you two thumbs up before walking back inside of the house. You sighed, looking back at Matt before moving off of him and slowly standing yourself up. "I should probably get home so I can get showered and change before coming over."

Matt held his hands out for you to grab and help pull him up, standing firmly on his feet as he pouted. "But–"

"I'll see you in an hour," you leaned in and kissed him, pulling away just as quick. "And I'll have your Christmas gift with me."

"Y/n?" He called out, trying to peek over your backyard fence. When he didn't get a reply, he walked towards the door, getting ready to bend down and pick up the latch key that was beneath a rock, when he noticed that it was already propped open. "Y/n? You there?"

Without another reply, he sighed and pushed the gate door open, closing it behind him and walking further into the backyard. "So you come over for Christmas dinner, slip your panties in my back pocket," he closed the gate behind him, still talking out loud. "In front of our parents, may I add. And I can't decide if that was hot or if I was scared shitless that one of them would see and well...could you imagine that rest of the awkward Christmas dinner?"

After the kiss in his parent’s driveway, he’d gone back inside only to be greeted by a smug looking Brady. If he was being honest, after you’d sent him home after his recreation of the scene from Love Actually, he thought that after last night, there was absolutely nothing more he could do to try and apologize or convince you that he was sorry and that he really did, truly love you. That after that, you most likely wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

And sitting through opening presents and breakfast and helping set up for the dinner later, he’d spent those last few hours before you threw snowballs at his bedroom window, trying to convince himself that nothing was going to happen between you both anymore, that he needed to start to try and talk himself out of loving you– though he knew that that was going to be nearly impossible.

Until you came and threw that first snowball. He thought he might’ve been seeing things, that you weren’t really standing beneath his window, but when he started talking and you talked back, he knew it was really you. He was still hurt, but seeing you standing there rambling and then when you asked him if he had meant everything he’d said and that if he did, then you wanted him too– he knew that this was finally his one chance to have this conversation face to face.

He didn’t regret shutting the window on you, he didn’t regret meeting you outside, because for the first time since that morning after your night together, he got to talk to you and yeah, you were nervous, but he knew it was for good reason and it was one of the things he loved most about you, your nervous rambling. And then you said it– you said that you still loved him and that you never stopped– and he knew everything he needed to, and for the first time since you were asleep in his bed, he told you that he loved you.

And the kiss was even better than the first one the two of you shared behind the bar. He never wanted to stop kissing you, and swore up and down in his mind that he could probably spend the rest of the day doing so. But then it came time for you to go home and he waited anxiously until you and your parents came over.

When you did, he saved no expense greeting you with a hug and then a kiss to the cheek, not wanting your families to ask a million questions about why he kissed you on the lips if he’d done so. Throughout the whole time before dinner and then dinner itself, it was like a dream. You’d sat next to him and beneath the table he’d rested his hand on your leg and you’d placed your hand on top of his, linking your fingers through his. He couldn’t believe it himself how you’d both gone from fighting in the basement only not even 24 hours earlier, to professing your love for each other and holding hands beneath the table.

You’d excused yourself to the bathroom sometime right at the end of dinner and he was in the living room with everyone to set up games when you came walking back in and stood next to him, sliding your hand into his back pocket, the same one you’d done the same exact thing at the bar. You’d told your parents you’d be right back and forgot something at the house, but not to hold anything up. He later went to help his mom clean up the kitchen as you left and when he found a spare moment, he’d dug his hand into his pocket and partially pulled out the lacey red thong out of his pocket, a small folded piece of paper falling to the floor. He quickly shoved the underwear back into his pocket and bent down, picking up the paper and unfolded it to see your handwriting.

‘Meet me in my backyard <3’

Matt excused himself, saying that you’d sent him a text asking if he could help grab the gifts for Taryn and Brady she’d forgotten and left his own house, which brought him right here to your backyard. He sighed, reaching the corner of your house and rounding it where you were nowhere to be found. The only sign of life in your backyard was some light coming from your old treehouse. With no other option, he made his way towards the treehouse he hadn't been in since he was 17 and started to climb up the wooden ladder, feeling it creak in age with every step he took. When he reached the top, he pulled himself up onto the deck and walked towards the door, your old blue beaded curtain still hanging outside of the sliding door.

It still looked like he remembered it– posters you took from those teen magazines taped to the wall, string lights hung up all around, ottoman storage, a hammock chair hanging from the ceiling, small bookshelves in the corner overfilled with books and some bean bags. It was a place he knew more often than not, was where he could find you and Brady any summer day, despite the no boys allowed sign nailed just right beside the door.

The treehouse was your childhood safe haven and Matt felt lucky any time you let him step into it.

"Y/n?" He called out again, trying to look in through the windows but the old string lights didn't have much juice left.

"What? Did you forget the secret knock and password?' You replied, still out of sight from him.

Matt rolled his eyes, knocking five times before taking a small pause and knocking two more times. "Girls go to college to get more knowledge," he sighed, trying not to laugh at the old rhyme and picturing him and Brady saying it every time they wanted to come into the treehouse. "Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider."

"Password accepted," he could tell you were smiling, just by the one of your voice. "Doors unlocked."

"If the door’s unlocked, then why did I have to knock and say the password?" He huffed, grabbing the handle and sliding the door open.

"'Cause I wanted to see if you remembered. Oh, and to hear you say that I'm basically smarter than you."

He rolled his eyes again, his back to you as he closed the door and turned around for the first time, eyes widening and jaw-dropping the moment he saw you. "Y/n..."

"What?" You asked, your head propped up by your elbow as you laid across the bunch of blankets you'd strewn on the treehouse floor. "Too much?"

He blinked once...twice...three times, still trying to digest the fact that you were laying in your childhood treehouse wearing nothing but a red sweater romper that looked more like a half-sheer bodysuit with the same plunging neckline like the one he remembered you wearing that night at the bar, only this one had tiny buttons going up the neckline.

"I uh...I mean...it's hot." He finally choked out, clearing his throat. "I don't...are we going to...?"

"Have sex in my childhood treehouse? No," you laughed, standing up and turning around, showing off the cheeky cut back as you grabbed a pair of old soccer shorts and his Calgary sweatshirt you never gave back, putting them on and turning back around, a smile on your face as you shrugged. "I mean...not yet, but that really all depends."

Matt swallowed heavily, finally looking up from where he'd been staring at your ass. "On?"

You grabbed the old soccer ball that was propped up by the bookshelf and walked up to him, spinning the ball in your hands as you smiled and walked by. "On whether or not you can score three goals on me."

"Wait!" He followed after you, giving you space as you climbed back down the latter before going down himself, skipping the last few steps and jumping down onto the ground. "That's it? I score three goals and then we just...have sex in the treehouse?"

"I don't know...unless you can think of anything else you want to wager?" You smiled, spinning the ball around again.

He knew what you were getting at, he could see it in your eyes and the playfulness in your wager and in your smile. "What happens if you score three goals on me?"

"You get your sweatshirt back and we have sex in the treehouse."

"And I get to choose what goes for if I win?" He asked, stepping closer towards you, looking at the ball in your hands.

"Mhhm."

"Well in that case," he grabbed the ball from you mid toss, holding it in his own hands and nodding at the goal set up behind you, half the set. "I score three goals on you...we go on a date tomorrow morning before I leave."

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side. "That's it?"

"Mhhm, and at the end I'll ask you whether or not you want to be my girlfriend...though I'm hoping you'll say yes." he smiled, spinning the ball in his hands and dropping it to the ground, placing his foot on top of it. "Unless you really want to have sex with me in the treehouse...then we can add that in too."

The laugh that came from you was the first genuine laugh he felt like he'd heard in years. The one that you smiled so big it reached your eyes and the way your laugh traveled so lightly and effortlessly through the air, echoing in his ears– a sound he'd never get tired of.

"The sex is totally optional. I just thought I'd appease to your mind since you so clearly enjoyed the last time we did it."

"Okay, added wager," he tilted his head to the side, egging you to take his bet. "I score four goals and we have sex in the treehouse."

You shrugged, a smile on your face. "You couldn't even score one on me when you were 15 and back then I wasn't nearly half as good at 13 as I am now. So you're on."

"You don't think I've upped my skills in the last nine years?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not unless one of your many abundant hook-ups was also an avid soccer player, no." You laughed, crossing your arms. "And pre-game soccer doesn't count for–"

Matt nudged by you, kicking the ball ahead of him and going for one hard kick, sending the ball directly into your net before turning around, his stupid, cocky smirk on his face. "Only three more to go."

You glared at him, walking over and taking the ball, dropping it down between you. "You cheated."

"You never said there were any rules," he laughed, his warm breath fogging once it met the cold air. "Besides, since when have you ever played by or even with rules?"

"You know what?" You smiled, putting your foot on the ball. "You're right." Before he could say another word, you nudged the ball behind you and spun around, kicking it further ahead and running after it, Matt stuttering in his step before he was running after you, but it was too late. You'd already scored.

"So we're playing like that?" He laughed, huffing as he rested his hands on his hips and you grabbed the ball from the back of the net, walking back towards him with a smile.

"We're playing like that." You replied, getting as close to him as you could, keeping the ball between you before holding it up and then dropping it down onto the ground. "1-1."

It started out like how the two of you used to play when you were younger– there were no rules, no hesitance to try and trip each other up, use your elbows to nudge and shove the other away, or even accidentally kick a shin or step on a foot. It didn't take long for either of you to score another goal each, tying it once more at 2-2 and the next goal would be winning the bet.

Once you scored the second goal to tie him again, the atmosphere had shifted. You could see that he was playing harder, automatically making you try and step up your game to match his energy. It had started snowing lightly and your guys' clothes were nowhere near warm enough to keep you guys from freezing the moment your adrenaline stopped pumping through your bodies...but neither of you cared because you were too lost in playing a game that made it feel like you two were back at a time when things were so much simpler.

He tripped himself up with the ball, knocking it loose and giving you the chance to seize your opportunity. Lost in that competitive mode, you didn't waste it, immediately running after the ball and kicking it into the top right corner, scoring your third goal and winning.

3-2...you'd won the bet.

Yet when you turned around to rub it in his face, your smile fell once you saw him standing there, hands on his hips and trying to catch his breath, not even the playful smirk on his face he'd had all game.

"3-2," you said, picking up the ball and walking over to him. "I win."

"Yeah, you do," he nodded, letting his arms fall down by his sides before reaching out and grabbing your hand and starting to walk you to the treehouse. "And a bet's a bet so let's go–"

"Hold on," you took your hand out of his, stopping him from tugging you away, and looked at him with furrowed brows. "What's your problem? This was fun, wasn't it? Just like old times."

"I mean, sure I guess," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But I lost, so it's not the best time for me right now."

Somewhere in the middle of your guys' game, maybe when the atmosphere had shifted and Matt started to play harder, the bet had changed. It became serious to him while you saw it as something playful, something fun. A thing to knock off your high school bucket list now that you had the chance...but to him, it was more. You made your bet as a joke. You never intended on giving him his sweatshirt back and the whole sex in the treehouse was just a way to finally cross off the item from your high school bucket list senior year. But his bet...his was real, it actually meant something and you realized that he only added the treehouse in as a buffer– to keep the mood light and funny.

This was never a game.

When his movement in the snow caught your attention, you saw him start to walk back towards the treehouse, his back to you. "Hey!" You said, walking a few steps forward as he turned around. You dropped the ball onto the snow and kicked it over, a small smile on your face. "Double or nothing."

He stopped the ball with his foot, looking at you. "Same bet?"

You nodded, stuffing your hands into the sweatshirt pockets. "We'll keep the scores...just bump it up to four this time."

Matt kicked the ball back over to you, your heart dropping for only a moment before he walked over to you, following after the ball and stopping just in front of you. "3-2?"

"Yep," you nodded, taking your hands out of the sweatshirt pocket. "3-2."

He sucked in his lips, nodding his head before kicking the ball just beside you and kicking the ball straight ahead of him into the goal, turning around and kicking and keeping the ball in front of him as he walked towards you, shrugging. "3-3. Next point wins."

"First to four," you replied, sighing as he came to a stop in front of you. "Ready?"

"Are you?"

Instead of replying, you went to steal the ball, kicking it out from beneath his feet but getting trapped as he held onto your arms to keep you from moving forward as you both tried to get some kind of control on the ball. You got an arm free, managing to turn yourself around and bump against him in an effort to distract and grab the ball. Instead, he grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed against him as he ducked his head down towards your ear.

"Nice try, but it won't work." He whispered, wrapping his left arm around your waist and picking you up, moving you off to the side as he held you and lazily kicked the ball far enough away before he let go of you and went after it.

You ran hard, barely catching up to him and grabbing onto the sleeve of his sweater when he kicked the ball, the kick looking like it might veer off just a little left...but hitting the back of the net and barely missing the post.

"GOALLLLL!" He yelled, throwing his arms up in the air and running around, snow kicking up as he ran in circles around you.

You laughed, shaking your head. "So what you're telling me is that you're a sore loser?"

"No," he stopped, breathing heavily as he started walking towards you. "I just hate losing. And this was one bet I really wanted to win."

"So," you sighed, letting your arms fall to your sides. "You won the bet. What now?"

Still trying to catch his breath, you watched as his eyes moved from your lips and back to your eyes...again and again and again, until they settled just over your shoulder, a smile on his face. "I think I know a good place to start."

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked over your left shoulder to see what he was looking at, only to see the treehouse. "Men," you snorted, shaking your head and looking back at him.

"They're so predict–"

He closed the distance between you, his hands brushing up your shoulders before cupping both sides of your face and pressing his mouth against yours, catching you off-guard by the unexpected kiss, but nonetheless sending your nerves into overdrive as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into you so your chests were pressed together.

You pulled away, breathless from both his fervent kiss and still trying to recover from your game of soccer, and looked up at him, seeing the tiny snowflakes falling just on top of his hair and a few, every so often landing on his long lashes. "Ask me," you breathed out, your hands gripping onto the back of his sweater. "Ask me to be your girlfriend now, you don't need to wait for the end of a date– because I'm going to say yes."

Matt laughed, his thumbs brushing against your red-tinged cheeks as he smiled at you before poking out his bottom lip and shaking his head. "Nah, I think I'll wait for the date...maybe not even then. I think I've got something special planned up already."

"That's not fair," you pouted. "I didn't play in the freezing cold out here to be your girlfriend, just for you to go back on the bet and wait."

"Why don't you ask me what I have planned first and then decide," he laughed, squishing your cheeks together. "Dork."

"Fine," you sighed heavily, playfully rolling your eyes as you unwrapped your arms from around him and he held your hand. "What do you have planned, Matthew?"

He smiled, squeezing your hand as he led you over to the treehouse. "I can't tell you, it's a surprise."

"Matty," you groaned, lolling your head back as you came to a stop by the ladder.

"It's a surprise," he replied, nudging you up the ladder to climb, him following right behind you. "But I can give you at least one hint."

"And what's that?" You asked, reaching the deck of the treehouse and walking towards the door, waiting for Matt to climb all the way up and meet you.

He walked over, resting his hands on your hips and leaning you against the door, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. "Don't make any plans for New Year's Eve."

"Why?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Something special happening that day?"

"Very," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you softly before reaching down and opening the door to the treehouse and walking you both inside. "And right now you're about to get a little sneak peek."

You laughed, holding onto him as he kicked the door softly behind him, shutting it and then lowering you down onto the blankets you'd layered on the ground, your fingers in his shortened curls as you laughed into the kiss, pulling back and resting yourself up onto your elbows.

"Little?" You laughed, a smirk on your face. "Blaming the lighting already, Matty?"

Matt plopped himself down on top of you, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head, using his left hand to keep them there as his right moved down to your sides, tickling you. "Take it back," he laughed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Fine, fine," you huffed, squirming beneath him and barely able to move. "I take it back."

"Good," he replied, his hand sliding the sweatshirt you were wearing up your body before using both hands to take it off, revealing the red romper you were wearing. "Did you buy this for me?"

"No, but will it make you feel better if I said yes?" You laughed, leaning yourself back up onto your elbows. "I know the male ego is fragile."

He rolled his eyes. "Haha, very funny. And no, I don't care if you didn’t buy it for me," he replied, ducking his head down to your jaw and kissing down your neck and towards your collarbones, going over every mark you had covered with make-up like he memorized where he'd made them. "Because I'm the one that's taking it off."

You reached down towards the waistband of your sweatpants, nudging them down and using your feet to kick them off, leaving you in nothing but the cheeky romper before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him back down towards you. "Merry Christmas, Matty." You whispered, thumbs brushing against the nape of his neck.

"Merry Christmas, y/n," he replied, kissing you feverishly before pulling back, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he looked into your eyes, his left hand brushing against your cheek before moving up and tucking hair behind your ear. "Best Christmas ever."

"Just wait until New Year's Eve then," you replied, bumping your nose up against his. "I hear that might be pretty special."

"You have no idea."

Matty 🐭❤️: Left for morning skate, be back in a little bit. But enjoy breakfast on me! 😘

Y/n: Got it! 🥰

After sending the picture of the taped delivery bag of the cafe down the street that you’d just received from the door dash delivery person minutes before, you put your phone down on the counter and ripped the sealed sticker open, peering inside to see a plastic container and a paper wrap. You reached in and pulled both of them out, restingYou resting them on the counter. You could see inside the paper wrap was a slice of the pumpkin bread and when you opened up the container, you saw an omelet with a side of toast inside. And in the drink holder, you could tell he ordered both a coffee for you and a small orange juice.

You grabbed the food and the drink container, walking over to the couch in the living room and sitting down, continuing to watch the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episode that you’d started when you were woken up by Matt’s text and interrupted only ten minutes in when the door dash delivery came. There were still solo cups both regular sized and shot glass sized all over the kitchen table and throughout the kitchen and on the counter, New Years Eve decorations hanging up, some halfway thanks to the rowdiness of the boys when it came to leave for the official Flames team party.

A party, to which the boys were all very careful not to get too drunk considering they had a pretty big game today, but still loosened up enough to have fun and make it a memorable night. But it was a little more memorable for both you and Matt than anything else. When you flew out to Calgary five days earlier, it was the first time you were doing so just by yourself and as more than y/n, his neighbor across the street and girl he’s known since he was a kid. You weren’t officially dating, but you weren’t ‘just y/n,’ anymore.

After the two of you had had sex in your treehouse, you’d rejoined the party, coming back with gift bags that were stuffed with random things from your room as cover up gifts for Taryn and Brady– the two of them even going as far into the ploy to take the fake gifts up to their rooms– and went on with your night. Matt had snuck over to your house later that night and the two of you just fell asleep in your bed just like you’d done nights earlier at his apartment in Calgary. Only the next morning, he snuck back out of your house before your parents woke up and kissed you goodbye, promising to come over a few hours later for your date.

He did. And he rang your doorbell and picked you up, your mom being the one to answer the door as your rushed down the stairs complete with the red gift bag holding your new phone and then your mom and Matt standing just inside the door, both looking at you with a smile.

You whined softly, shaking your head as you reached the last step. “Mom, please don’t–”

“I’m not saying anything,” she said, holding up her hands in defense. “Just…let me get a picture really quick and then you can go.”

You were embarrassed as you stood next to Matt, so easily able to fit into his side as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “This is so embarrassing…”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, pulling you more into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“So cute, you two,” your mom smiled, seemingly taking the picture without the two of you noticing. “Now just one more and then you’re free to go.”

“Del, they’re not teens going off to prom anymore, let them go,” your dad said, walking into the atrium.

“Thanks, Dad,” you sighed, knowing it was no use as you and Matt smiled for your mom’s picture before she put the phone down.

“Now Matthew, I don’t think I need to give you a speech–”

“And we’re leaving, bye!” You said, turning Matt towards the door as he opened it.

“She’ll be home in a bit, I have to fly out anyway,” Matt laughed, the two of you walking out of the house and closing the door behind you before draping an arm over your shoulders. “Why do I have the inkling feeling that your mom is going to not only send that picture to mine, but probably go over so they can gossip about it in person?”

“Because that’s exactly what she’s going to do,” you sighed, leaning into his side. “But come on, I believe you said you were going to take me on a date where you may or may not ask me a very important question at the end– which, by the way, my answer hasn’t changed from what I told you I would say if you did ask that question.”

The two of you stopped by your phone provider to transfer everything over from your old phone to your new one and then went to breakfast downtown. Pushing the time, the both of you walked around downtown hand in hand for the first time before eventually, you had to make your way home and you dropped him off at the airport and watched him walk his way through security…but not before he asked if you’d fly up to Calgary in two days to spend time with him up there and even join in with the New Years Eve and New Years Days festivities.

Meaning when you flew up here and got to see him play two games, it was also the first time that you were there to support him at his games and mingle amongst the other WAGs as well, whatever you were. You were already familiar with most of them, especially after the last few years of attending the team Christmas parties– so they were thrilled to see you back in Calgary when normally you didn’t come back once Matt flew home for Christmas. They all pressed for what happened over the few days break and what changed and you told them all that you could and when Matt met you after the games, the two of you would talk and laugh on the ride back to his apartment about how everyone on both sides were pressing you for answers.

But the only one who actually knew the answer to their most popular question– ‘Are you guys dating?’– was Matt and he meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to ask you that question until you least expected it.

Because the last thing you expected was for Matt to break away from your New Years kiss to ask you to be his girlfriend, just seconds into the New Year and barely waiting for you to say yes before he kissed you again.

Your first kiss as an official couple.

And, of course when the party ended, the two of you took an uber back to his apartment and ended up in the same predicament that landed you two in those tense few days in the first place. Only this time, when you woke up, there was no panicking about just what would happen or what he would think when he found out and definitely no trying to sneak out of his apartment unnoticed. This time, you woke up early in the morning where Matt was coming back from going to the bathroom and climbed back into bed, immediately pulling you into him and kissing you before you curled against his side.

“This is sort of like a deja vu isn’t it?” He mumbled, lazily rubbing his hand up and down your left thigh.

“Which part?” You laughed softly, looking up at him. “The sex or the laying in your bed half asleep?”

“Both.”

“Deja vu is when you know you haven’t experienced something before, but your brain is tricking you into thinking you have,” you replied, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Which, you’ve definitely experienced both of this before. I was there.”

“Whatever dork.” He rolled his eyes as his left hand brushed against your hair. “I got you a jacket to wear today.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him. “What?”

“Mer was in charge of the jackets, she got them from a woman here locally and I texted Johnny to ask Mer if there was any chance the woman could make a last minute one for you to wear and she was able to.” He lolled his head towards you, a smile on his face. “So…you have a jacket to wear with my number on it.”

Your face scrunched as you tried not to smile. “You mean now everyone’s going to know I’m dating you? Imagine what that will do to my image.”

He rolled his eyes again and brushed hair down into your face as you laughed. “God maybe this was a mistake. Should’ve just let you wear a sweatshirt.”

“No, no, I’m only kidding Matty,” you smiled, nudging yourself closer to him before leaning and and kissing his neck before laying your head down on the pillow he was using and bringing your hand up and resting it on the left side of his face, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “I would love and be honored to wear your number on a jacket. Though I think my soccer number is much, much better.”

“Eh, 8’s okay. But too bad that one’s already taken,” he shrugged, his right arm wrapping around your waist. “Besides, you look better in 19.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait till later today to see if that’s true,” you smiled, leaning in and kissing him. Matt tugged you over on top of him, moving his hands down to your hips, causing you to smile into the kiss before pulling away. “You’ve got a pretty big game today, you might want to save that energy for the ice, hm?”

“I should,” Matt smiled, fanning his fingers across your back. “So how do you feel about giving me that good luck present just a little bit early?”

You’d finished your breakfast, threw the leftovers away and sat back down on the couch to finsih your coffee when you heard the key in the door of the apartment and then the door open, Matt walking inside, looking down at his phone. “Y/n, you up?” Matt called out, turning around to close the door.

“Maybe if you weren’t looking at your phone, you might’ve seen me sitting here on the couch,” you laughed, bringing the coffee cup up to your lips as you sighed. “Kids these days and their cellphones. They’re so attached.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he replied, walking down the short hall and tossing his keys on the kitchen table. “I was texting my Mom who was wondering if it was okay to come over for a bit, that way you guys can all leave for the arena together.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” You replied, moving the blanket from next to you so he could sit down.

“Hm, maybe because it looks like there was a party here last night?” He replied, sitting down and draping his right arm over your shoulder.

“Oh right, I guess there kind of was,” you replied, the both of you looking around at the scattered party favors. “Plus there’s the other thing.”

“Other thing?” He asked, looking back at you before widening his eyes and then smiling. “Oh yeah, the other thing.” He sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled. “Yeah, we should most definitely clean up before they come over.”

“Mhhm, quite a bit needs to be cleaned,” you nodded, putting your coffee cup down onto the table and then slowly climbing onto his lap, draping your arms over his shoulders and your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck. “The kitchen table, the back counter, the coffee table, we should definitely do something with the couch.”

“The couch?” He asked, hands rubbing up beneath the Flames sweatshirt of his you were wearing…and only wearing besides the underwear. “We didn’t–” He paused as you raised an eyebrow and moved forward on his lap just slightly, then he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, the couch too.”

“Okay, so we’ll definitely clean up” you replied, kissing his cheek and then kissing along his jaw and down to his neck as your hands grabbed onto the bottom of his shirt. “But not until after I give you a sneak-peek of what you’ll be missing out on after games once I go back to school.”

Matt’s hands slid into your underwear, fingers fanned out across your ass. “I think I might have an idea.”

You’ve seen Matt play before, you weren’t new to watching him take the ice while thousands of fans cheered him and the rest of the Flames on. Despite only attending games at the Saddledome more than a handful of times, you still knew your way around and felt comfortable amongst the fans and staff. But this wasn’t another simple NHL game. This was different. Because while you have been to any other game the Flames have played…you’d yet to experience a Battle of Alberta game.

Which coincidentally was today…and it was also the NHL Winter Classic. It was rare enough for one Canadian team to play in the classic, let alone two– so the hype around the game and then it being a big rivalry was elevated by one hundred percent. The game was being played in Calgary at McMahon Stadium, an outside stadium just a ten or so minute drive from Matt’s apartment and despite it being in Calgary, you were surprised to see just as many Oilers fans as you did Flames fans.

But still, the atmosphere was just as energetic and chaotic as any game you’d been to in the Saddledome from the moment the players took the ice for warm-ups. And of course, while you and his parents and Taryn did spend some time watching the team warm up on the ice, you were grilled about the black jean jacket you were wearing that had Calgary stitched across the front, along with the Flames logo and the Canadian flag patched on one sleeve, while the other had Matt’s 19 patch and then on the back, of course, was the big 19 patch and his last name across your shoulders.

And it dawned on you that while Brady and Taryn weren’t unaware of what had taken place between the both of you, no one but Matt’s teammates and their significant others knew that the two of you were officially dating. At least not until you caved in and told them after Taryn had joked about that being the reason why Matt wouldn’t let them come over earlier, because the two of you were “doing boyfriend and girlfriend things.” Which was completely embarrassing because you couldn’t even try to lie.

Even when the news was out, nothing felt that different as the game went on. As you sat with Matt’s family and the rest of the friends and families of the Flames players, also surrounded by fans, you didn’t feel like you were a girlfriend supporting her boyfriend in one of the biggest games so far of the season. You felt like you were that same girl who’d grown up alongside Matt and cheered him on throughout every stage of his career and you were thankful for that. Because the last thing that you wanted for your guys' extremely new relationship, was for things to change from what they had previously been.

Even better, was that Matt and the Flames were on fire through the entire first period scoring three goals against Calgary’s defense, Matt scoring two of them at the beginning and the end of the period which had Keith joking that maybe the two of you should have started dating earlier and Matt would’ve been playing this good from the beginning of his career.

However, the bliss didn’t seem to last. The Flames were still hot the first half of the second period, but in the second half, the Oilers scored two unanswered goals, one on a power play thanks to a penalty drawn by Barrie that Sam fell victim to. But still, the energy of the Flames fans didn’t die down because with one period left and some of the best hockey they’ve played this season, there was still a big high hope for them to pull out a Winter Classic and Battle of Alberta win.

The third period was rough for both sides. Just when you thought that Calgary had a chance to score, Edmonton’s defense would pull a miracle out of their asses and prevent it– and the same for Calgary. It was a constant back and forth, until Koskinen, when trying to pass the puck off of the boards to one of his own players, ended up passing it to Matt, who immediately took the shot and scored to give the Flames a 4-2 lead, and his second career hat trick. You lost it in the stands as the wave of hats were flying in the air down towards the ice, but not quite making it there since the rink itself was distanced from the fans' seats.

But the joy didn’t last long, because the next shift, the Oilers scored on an intercepted pass and closed the gap by one goal. And it stayed that way as the clock ticked down to the final minute. Both teams were skating hard and everyone was on the edge of their seats as the final seconds ticked down and Edmonton had the puck and was trying to score. A hit by Rasmus let the puck loose and you saw Lindholm take control and pass it just ahead of Matt who was skating to reach for it, beating out McDavid, and just when he got it and went to skate and reassess who was around, Matt blew a tire and fell on the ice. And because he’s Connor fucking McDavid it was no surprise to anyone when he swooped in for the puck and immediately shot it top shelf over Markstrom.

Tying the game 4-4 just as the clock ran out.

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t even twenty seconds into overtime when the Oilers scored again off of the puck ricocheting off of Markstrom’s pads– ending the game 5-4.

It was absolutely devastating watching and hearing the Edmonton fans cheer loudly for their teams win and even more so seeing the deflated Flames players shake hands with their number one rival before saluting their fans and then one by one making their way off of the ice. Your gaze was glued to Matt the moment you saw him fall on the ice and part of you was wishing that it was the loss of a skate blade that made him fall, because that would make it seem a lost less worse than it was…but when he got back up and skated away on both feet– you knew the fall had simply been because he tripped.

A trip that, with six seconds left to spare, gave Connor McDavid the opportunity to score the tying goal. A trip that if it hadn’t had happened– they would be the Winter Classic winners. But it didn’t work out that way, and you could only hope that he didn’t take the loss too heavy on his shoulders. Those waiting on their player lingered around in the stands before you all were allowed to make your way down to the area that was between the ice and the stands, the players who weren’t doing media coming out first opposed to those who were chosen.

And unfortunately, Matt was chosen, and you spent the whole time waiting for him hoping that it wasn’t because of the split second moment where he’d fallen down and gave the Oilers a chance to score, but because of the good he did earlier in the game and scoring his second career hat trick. But you also knew that there was no avoiding the topic at all.

Finally as the players who did media were starting to trickle out, you found yourself feeling antsy at meeting up with Matt, which was totally brand new. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug him like normal or hug him and kiss him or kiss him first– the territory was new and you were also in front of his parents and sister, who no doubt would give the both of you some kind of flack– win or loss. The one thing that you did know for certain, was that you were always going to be there to greet him after a game whether that be over the phone or in person, no matter win or loss– you’d continue to be that support that you’ve been since you were kids.

When Matt finally came out from the entrance walking alongside Markstrom, you felt conflicted. On one side, you were itching to just wrap your arms around him, kiss him and tell him how proud of him you were. And on the other hand, you were wanting to sit back, let his family greet him first because you were trying your best to ignore the heat dropping feeling of seeing the disappointment on his face from the loss.

You didn’t feel bad when he greeted his mom with a hug first and then the rest of his family. If anything, that’s what you would do– greet your parents before anyone else because they were the reason behind where you got. And when Matt turned to you, your heart soared because even after the loss, a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes appeared the moment he looked at you.

“Hug your girlfriend Matthew,” Keith joked, patting him heavily on the shoulder. “Only took you about a decade to get to this point huh?”

“Keith, stop it,” Chantal hushed, nudging him as you met Matt halfway for a hug.

While he gave his parents and Taryn a one armed hug, he hugged you with both, kissing the side of your head before resting his head on your shoulder. “I suck,” he huffed, leaning his head against yours. “It’s all my fault.”

“Yeah,” you replied, rubbing his back as he pulled away with furrowed brows and a pout. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know…tell me I don’t suck or it’s not my fault or something?” He replied, keeping his hands on your waist.

“Well, what kind of service would I do if I lied?” You replied, patting his chest. “Only what? Not even 24 hours into a new relationship and you want me to lie already?”

He rolled his eyes before pulling you into another hug. “You suck.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing soon after as Matt pulled away and kissed your forehead.

“Gross,” Taryn joked, a smirk on her face before turning to her parents. “Now that Matt lost the game, can we go get food now?”

“Taryn!” Chantal said, giving her a look. “We’ll need to pick up your brother first from the arena, but yes, we can.”

“How about a ‘hey best big brother ever, congratulations on your second ever career hat trick! I’m so proud of you?’” Matt said, nudging Taryn’s shoulder as you all started to follow him out of the area to walk him to the bus that would take the team back to the Saddledome.

“I never said you were the best big brother,” Taryn shrugged, teasing him. “Because in case you forgot, which I don’t know how because you stole his best friend from him, I have two big brothers.”

“I did not–”

“Okay, both of you stop now please,” Keith sighed, rubbing his temples. “I need a drink. All three kids are out of the house and yet you always make me need a drink.”

“Technically, we still live there in the summers,” Taryn smiled. “But maybe now that y/n and Matt are dating, you and her dad can get them both out of the house and into their own apartment. You know, start their lives together, get engaged, married, have babies– not in that order or anything–”

Matt reached out with his right leg and nudged the back of Taryn’s leg as he gave her a look. “Cool it, T.”

She just rolled her eyes and kept talking to get a rise out of Matt the entire time until you made to to the bus. They stayed behind as you walked Matt over to the bus, sensing how he was stressed and you just wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his chest. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he sighed, looking down at you. “Sorry we didn’t win.”

“You can’t win them all, Matt,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as your hands drifted down to resting on his waist, hooking your index fingers in each pocket. “Besides, I got to see you get a hat trick and play in the Battle of Alberta for the Winter Classic. Plus, I got this really cool jacket…so I think I’m pretty okay right now despite the loss.”

“Any chance I can still cash in on that surprise you said I’d get if we won?” He pouted, a playful look in his eyes. “Especially if that means we get to cuddle on the couch?”

“Oh most definitely,” you smiled, leaning up and kissing him before pulling away. “Now get on the bus so we can get to dinner faster, I’m starving.”

“Alright, see you in a bit,” Matt laughed, kissing you again before turning around to walk towards the bus doors.

“Hey Matt!” You said, just before he got too far away, and when he turned around to look at you, you smiled and patted your own left jean pocket. “Check your left pocket.”

He furrowed his brows before reaching into his pocket with his left hand and then his eyes went wide as he looked up from the half of his hand he’d taken out of the pocket before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you smiled, winking at him before turning around to meet up with his parents and Taryn. Once reaching them, you felt your phone vibrate in your jacket pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Matt.

Matty 🐭❤️: Hope you don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight. We’ve got years of sex to make up for all the lost time.

Y/n: Only as long as you promise to feed me pizza and garlic knots when it’s all done.

Matty 🐭❤️: Deal. Once we get back to the apartment after dinner, don’t expect to wear any clothes until tomorrow morning when we meet them for breakfast.

Y/n: Aw, but I was kind of hoping to wear what I have on under

Matty 🐭❤️: …Any chance you’re willing to wear my jersey over it once or twice?

Y/n: I think that can be arranged 😉😍

“You guys are gross,” Taryn whispered, nodding down at your phone as she walked beside you. “At least tell me you use condoms.”

There was no hiding the way your eyes widened just slightly when you looked at her or your heating face, causing her to sigh and shake her head. “Well, if you get pregnant, Taryn makes a great middle name for a girl.” She bumped into you a smile on her face. “But really, I’m glad you two worked it out, y/n. Not only because it's been a long time coming, but because you’re both happier. It’s obvious.”

“Thanks, Taryn,” you smiled, leaning against her.

“But also, thanks for waiting till New Years to start dating because I totally won the bet with Brady. He said Christmas, I said New Years,” she smiled, picking up your hand and giving you a high five.

“You suck,” you laughed, shaking your head as you took your hand away.

“You know you love me, now come on, future sister-in-law, tell me all the gossip about what went down. Because you can bet mom and dad are going to ask at dinner and I can’t wait to see Matt squirm like a bug.”

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket again and saw a picture message from Matt. When you opened it, you saw he sent three pictures, the first picture was of the group of kids when you, Matt and Brady were in elementary school and your parents allowed you to stay up for New Years so you could watch the Disney Channel’s program event, Taryn being too young and already in bed. You were standing between the two boys, all dressed in pajamas and each of you with New Years Eve hats on your heads and fringe blowers in your mouths. The second picture was of the two of you last night, again the both of you wearing New Years Eve hats and dressed up in a gold sequin mini-dress, while Matt wore a black button up shirt and black jeans. He had his arm wrapped around your waist tightly, pulling you into his side as you were partially facing him, the both of you smiling at the camera. And the third one was also from last night, only now Matt had you partially dipped and the two of you were kissing.

The pictures caused you to smile and then your eyes skimmed across the message, feeling your heart race in your chest.

Matty 🐭❤️: Can’t wait to take on the New Year with you and every New Year to come. I love you! ❤️

Y/n: I love you too! 😊❤️

422 notes · View notes

hockeywhy · 2 years

Text

4 times you didn’t find the one + 1 time you did; m. tkachuk

WARNINGS: explicit language. WORD COUNT: 11.3k

one.

Tyler is a good guy. He can be a little scatterbrained at times (like that one time he’d double-booked the evening he promised to spend with you, only to have him ring you almost an hour after the time you agreed to meet to say he was in the student bar with a group of friends to catch a football game) and other times, a little overbearing (like that one time – two time, three time, you lost count really – he expressed his annoyance towards your close friendship with Matthew for the most absurd reasons, claiming Matthew always looked at him the way someone would look at a fly they couldn’t swat away). And sure, he can be a little wishy-washy – ice cold one moment, burning hot the next – but these are moods you can keep up with and have kept up with for the past five months of your relationship. And fine, maybe he could be a little more considerate towards you because there was only so far the but babe, who knows when I’ll next get the chance to do this excuse could get him, but this is college and college is that weird transition from reckless teen years to growing responsibility into adulthood. These years will be the last hoorah before things got really real. All in all, Tyler is a good guy. Whether Matthew agreed or not.

“He’s a fucking tool, is what he is,” Matthew repeats, not for the first time that evening and, really, since Tyler became a regular presence in your life. His eyes are glued to the TV, glaring at it as if it only finished offending him in the worst way imaginable. He has a beer in one hand while the other digs through a bowl of popcorn resting between the two of you.

It’s just gone past nine in the evening and your original plans have apparently gone down the drain. You and Tyler were supposed to meet at his place and from there, head over to a party held by one of your friends; a bash to celebrate the end of second year of college for your year group. Fifteen minutes went by without a word from him, then half an hour until finally, after the one-hour mark passed, he’d mentioned something about being caught up with a friend who needed help moving things out from a dorm room to a rented apartment. Fine, whatever. You understood. A lot of that was happening around recently, although surely, he would have known in advance, but you guess this is where your personalities clash the most: you, as organized as possible; him, more than often on the flighty side. But hey, opposites attract and all that, right?

It’s not that it annoyed you, but it was odd sitting in your apartment dressed up and ready to go with something akin to radio silence from his end. It was good timing on Matthew’s behalf to invite you over to his place to catch a playoff game, in a way, rescuing all the effort that went into your appearance.

When you arrived at Matthew’s apartment in your favorite pair of jeans rather than sweatpants, and a form-fitting top in place of a cozier tee, he feigned being impressed by your look.

“Should’ve told me you wanted to make this a show up just to show off sort of thing,” he commented. “I would’ve said to meet at the arena instead.”

“Matthew, you would not have bought tickets to an Oilers game and you know it.”

“Like I said, show up just to show off.”

You’d laughed, patting his cheek lightly after crossing the threshold into his apartment. “Right. Just to remind everyone of what they’re missing out on, I’m guessing? They could’ve had all of this and yet they now need to wait for the next season to see real greatness.” Your demeanor changed though: your smile was softer, your next words gentler. “There’s always next season.”

You couldn’t say no to Matthew’s invitation. It wasn’t just a way for you to try and make yourself shrug off the outcome of the evening, but you know that not making the playoffs is a source of frustration for Matthew.

So, really, it isn’t an evening wasted and this certainly doesn’t feel like a lousy replacement for a year group party. Yet one way or another, it seems that all roads circle back to you and Tyler or better said, only Tyler just as the game goes into intermission ahead of the third period; as if on cue, your phone starts buzzing occasionally. To your delight, the messages are from Tyler: short updates that they’ll wrap it up soon, and that he’s still down for the party if you are. You express that relief to Matthew, though he doesn’t hide how much it displeases him. You know Matthew has your best intentions at heart and therefore wants only the best for you as you do for him, but apparently, Tyler doesn’t fit that bill. Still, you wish he could at least respect your choice.

“He’s not a tool,” you defend with a roll of your eyes that goes unnoticed by Matthew who keeps his eyes glued to the screen. “Things pop up unplanned and let me tell you that no form administration team is pretty to deal with if you don’t clear out your dorm when you’re supposed to. Honestly, I don’t understand why you can’t at least be civil with each other. You’re one of my best friends and he’s my boyfriend, so I kind of hoped you’d see eye-to-eye but Matthew, you weren’t nice to him from the get-go.”

“And I’ll continue to not be nice to him.” At that, he turns his attention to you and smirks. “Does he cry about it to you? Does he complain about how unfair it is that someone calls him out for what he is? Does it destroy his ego to know that his act can’t fool everyone?”

You huff, frustrated. Again, this. Again, Matthew is irrational in his hatred towards the guy. The two had barely crossed paths but you know you wouldn’t have them be in the same room together, unsupervised. Sure, Tyler can hold his own ground just fine, but look at it overall, Matthew is scrappy. As volatile towards him as he is while on ice when he feels wronged. Between the two of them, it’s Matthew who makes you feel as if your heart is in your mouth. On ice, it’s one thing though it doesn’t make you feel less restless while watching him play; off it, you just don’t want him to do something in the heat of the moment that he’ll later regret.

“I’m not an idiot, Matthew—”

“I didn’t say that you are.”

“Kind of sounded like it,” you sigh. “Look. Tyler isn’t perfect. I know that, you know that, he knows that. I’m pretty sure no one is. Just like you don’t like something about Tyler, one of his friends probably doesn’t like something about me. Don’t give me that look,” you warned him when he shot you a look screaming tell me who they are and where I can find them. “Can’t please everyone, Matthew. You should know.”

“It’s different,” he responds tightly.

“It’s really not. You don’t want to get along with—No. Not even get along, but just be civil about Tyler, fine. Whatever. But I wish you kept that to yourself. You might not like it, but I’m kind of hoping he’s the one, Matthew,” you admit. Saying it out loud sounds a bit old fashioned, but your parents met while in college, as did your grandparents and, more recently, one of your closest cousins was due to tie the knot in the summer. You can’t help but hope for that. “I want to make it work between Tyler and me. I kind of want to be in it for the long run, Matthew.”

Matthew’s jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. “Then for your sake, I hope it comes to a point when you’re no longer the only one making an effort.”

Your phone chimes, signaling a message that couldn’t have been better timed. A quick glance at the screen displays the message from Tyler confirming he’ll meet you at the party. You push up from the couch, feeling a range of emotions: anger because of Matthew’s attitude, frustration because of how long it took for Tyler to apparently squeeze you in what was left of his day and quickly trailing that, misery because of all of this and everything in between.

“Thanks for being so fucking supportive, Matthew. I’ll get you a jersey to go with that attitude.” With that, you began making your way out of his apartment, ignoring his calls to come back to please don’t go.

Tyler isn’t a good guy. He’s a piece of shit with half-hearted excuses and pleas more commonly used by a fifteen-year-old than an apparently grown man.

You’d arrived a little later than anticipated at the party because of a traffic incident resulting in road closures, which you’d informed Tyler of through text, encouraging him to go ahead and get a drink before you got there if he felt like it. Despite that, you couldn’t help but wish Tyler got back to you somehow to say that it didn’t matter and that he’d wait for you first. A part of you wanted to blame your anxiety on the way Matthew spoke to you. It was easier to look for a scapegoat when you wanted to deny whatever the hell it was that your gut was trying to tell you for the past few weeks.

Being two years ahead of you, you knew that Tyler would want to enjoy the end of his final term as much as possible, before results, before real life truly kicked in. But the way he went about it was frantic, careless: he was out often and late, sometimes with you and sometimes without. That was fine, but what bothered you was that when you were exhausted, when you simply couldn’t keep up anymore, he’d simply send you off with an alright, catch you later instead of at least seeing you out of the club and in a taxi. It was even more embarrassing when this would happen while you shared the locale with Matthew and other players from the Flames roster, many of whom you were good friends with. It was one thing making your way out alone, but it was entirely different under their eyes. As if you were doing the walk of shame. It was Matthew who’d step in, always playing it off casually saying he just needed to get a breath of fresh air and wasn’t that just such a coincidence while you were leaving the venue? It was always Matthew.

Tonight though, he wouldn’t be there anymore to provide the support you knew you always received but did not always think of it consciously. Matthew wouldn’t be there to watch as your eyes filled with hot, angry tears as shame overwhelmed you while watching Tyler allow not one, but two girls to grind up on him. It wasn’t until he dipped his head down towards one of them, ready to whisper who gives a fuck what, that he’d caught sight of you over her shoulder. You realized it wasn’t sadness you felt as you noticed it wasn’t regret reflected on his face but rather, fear. Fear for having been caught. Still, you had to give it to him for being so shameless.

He chases you through the narrow hallway and across the busy lawn, fingers managing to catch hold of the back of your top to keep you in place.

You hiss and slap his hand away from your clothes. “Don’t grab me like that, what the fuck, Tyler?”

“You wouldn’t wait, what else could I do? Just—please. Please, give me a moment.”

“Yeah? Why, busy carding through your excuse options to see which one’s the more suitable one this time?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest. “Here, I’ll save you the trouble. I’ve been drinking, I didn’t realize that wasn’t you back there or wait, did we go through that one before—”

“No! No. Look, she came onto me—”

You hold a hand up and stop him there. “Honestly, Tyler, go fuck yourself,” you recommend, spinning on your heel towards the sidewalk where your Uber pulled over. Oddly, you can hear Matthew’s voice in your mind. Hadn’t he dismissed Tyler using those very same words just a few weeks ago?

Sure, it hurts. You won’t deny yourself that emotion or play it down, but what feels more shameful about the ordeal is that this may well have been the very thing Matthew tried to warn you about. Several times. Plenty of times. You lost count. And now here you are in the back of a taxi with tears streaming down your face and a desperate need to yell your sorrow into a pillow, feeling a lot like a dog with their tail between their legs as you pull out your phone to message Matthew.

You I’m sorry I spoke like that to you earlier. You were right.

Only a handful of minutes pass before your phone buzzes.

Matthew For the first time, I wish that I wasn’t. I’m sorry.

two.

Mark is different. You were a bit hesitant to try a dating app initially, but a lot of your friends suggested you had little to lose other than maybe an hour or two of making conversation with a stranger over drinks. If it worked out, great; if not, it was easier to make it known to them and cut ties. He reached out first, leaving a comment on one of your photos taken recently at the Scotiabank Saddledome arena. And good thing you did. Not only did Mark prove to be handsome, but he acknowledged his own support for the Flames. As if this wasn’t sufficient, it turned out that he was at that very same game, just a few seats above your ice-level ones. He showed you his own photos taken at that game as proof on your first date.

Did someone say match made in heaven?

Immediately, your first thought was that Matthew would like this guy. Tyler was always somewhat disinterested when it came to hockey and by extension, the Flames, so maybe this contributed to Matthew’s dislike of the guy. Aside from the obvious, which was how he treated you while in a relationship. You had to make sure that the guy you’d date next understood your friendship with the team, and especially Matthew; you also had to make sure that he didn’t misunderstand it either. On one or two occasions, Tyler had expressed distrust towards Matthew and apparently, the way he looked at you, whatever that meant.

Mark is different. That much is obvious. Normally, you’d let some time pass before you introduce a significant other to friends just to be sure of them but keeping Mark a secret wouldn’t do him justice.

You decide to also make a date night out of the Friday evening game. It’s just a month into the season and the Flames are holding up spectacularly in their Division and in turn, Matthew leads them in points. The good mood he has been in over the course of the past few months easily transmits to you. You have a good feeling about this.

As usual, you hang around the panels surrounding the rink as the team starts making its way on the ice for their warmups. This time, you’re not only accompanied by your best friend, but also Mark who seemed to be more than elated to know of your friendship with the team. Initially, he was somewhat distrustful, thinking you were just messing around until you scrolled through your phone’s photos, most of which were of you and the team taken in casual settings. Mostly Matthew, really. A couple of less flattering candids of Matthew while eating; a couple of flattering photos he’d taken of you during the two weeks of summer vacation you spent with him and other friends; countless selfies taken indoors, outdoors, at home or out and about. Retrospectively, it was a little embarrassing, but Mark seemed fascinated enough.

“Hey, Mark, uh—you want to go help me get a few drinks and snacks?” your best friend, Rachel, calls out over the booming music as the team starts making rounds on the ice.

“We can all go after. There’s plenty of time then,” you suggest instead, and start inching just a little closer to the panels. As usual, you’re wearing Matthew’s jersey while Mark sports Backlund’s. “Here, let’s go a bit closer.”

You and Matthew have a tradition: every time the Flames play on their own turf, he throws a puck your way. You have a very impressive collection of warm up pucks towering in a corner of your living room. If this was still the early 2000s and you were a guest on Cribs, that’d be the first thing you show off without question. As usual, he spots you with ease and shoots a smirk your way, head nodding in a ‘sup? which you mirror with a grin. He stops a puck’s course from shooting past him and he begins making his approach towards you. Except, something goes wrong. You see the moment his expression morphs first into confusion and then something unreadable when you feel an arm drape across your shoulders. Matthew makes an abrupt stop right in front of where you are stood and the ice shoots across the entire plexiglass. He remains rooted to the spot for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tightened and his eyes flick between you and Mark. That seems to kick him into motion eventually: you watch, confused and a little hurt, as Matthew skates away, tradition broken. He thwacks the puck across the rink apparently as hard as he can just as the buzzer goes off and both teams are off the ice. Matthew disappears down the tunnel without even as much as a glance over his shoulder towards you.

“I think your timing was off,” Rachel suggests as you take your seats, her voice quiet as if to prevent Mark from overhearing but there is no chance of that happening: the arena goes wild with music and cheers as the game begins. You shoot her a quizzical look. Rachel sighs. “Maybe—uh, maybe you should’ve eased Matthew into this a different way,” she clarifies and throws a cautious glance over towards Mark whose entire attention is on the game.

“It wasn’t me,” you defend. “I didn’t think he’d do that but even so, I don’t get why Matthew was so peeved. Seems without reason to me.”

Rachel looks at you for a few seconds and her silence shortly becomes uncomfortable. When she finally tears her gaze away, you watch as she shakes her head slowly as if in disbelief. You want to comment on it but the last thing you need is to pick a fight with your best friend. And besides, it’d be awful timing: the visiting team scores.

They still pull through eventually, scoring first in overtime but throughout the course of the game, you couldn’t help but feel that Matthew oscillated between playing more aggressive than ever before to barely having a presence on ice. He earned himself a good six minutes total of time in the box: once for roughing and twice for instigating fights. Sure, you’re well aware of how volatile and aggressive Matthew can get during games, never letting a wrongdoing fly by him and always jumping in either for himself or his teammates, but tonight was different. Tonight, he played almost erratically. The last thing you wanted was to see him be sent off the ice for a major misconduct or worse.

It takes you some time to locate Matthew when you make it to the bar where the team would celebrate their win. It isn’t a particularly glitzy place but something more laid back, complete with pool tables and dartboards. Places like this were some of your favorite. Matthew’s too. You struck some of the most absurd dares with Matthew in places like this, trying to one-up each other when attempting these games.

Tonight, he’s by the bar and you know that now would probably not be a good time for you to drag Mark with you for any introductions. You leave him with Rachel and the rest of the boys at one of the few tables as you begin making your way to him.

The bartender greets you as soon as you arrive. “I’ll have what he’s—Oh. Actually, just a Bud Light for me, thanks,” you correct when you see that Matthew had opted for something stronger. He doesn’t look at you. “Congratulations on the win tonight.”

“It was a fucking stupid win, tonight. Barely pulled it through.” He speaks through gritted teeth. Matthew’s entire body is tense, as is his attitude.

“Sometimes, these wins can be the best. Good show of resilience.”

He scoffs. His smile is bitter when he turns his head towards you. “Can always count on you to share some wisdom.”

You frown. “What’s up with that?”

“What’s up with you,” he retorts.

“Nothing, Matthew. I want to talk with you like I always do but you’re acting funny and I don’t know why. If I did something wrong, then you need to tell me because I can’t read your mind. I don’t know what I did wrong. We were cool, weren’t we? Yesterday, the day before, even this morning… We’re cool, aren’t we?” you question, frustrating easily leaking into your voice. “You’re treating me like I wronged you somehow, but I don’t think I deserve it without know what I’ve done.”

Matthew inspects the surrounding area, his eyes undoubtedly falling on the table where you’d deposited Mark. When he looks back at you, his expression is schooled into careful neutrality. “Who’s he? Where’d he come from?”

“That’s Mark, Matthew. I, uh, started seeing him a short while ago and thought to bring him along tonight to introduce you.” Your expression lightens up almost automatically and you grin, excited. “He’s a huge Flames fan! I think I might have competition, coming to think of it. You guys come up in conversation pretty often. He’s been following the team since he was a kid so…dream come true, I guess,” you say, nodding your head towards the table.

Matthew casts a brief glance back towards the table, assessing Mark no doubt, before looking down to the drink he’s been nursing. “He’s good to you?”

You release a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, relief flooding you. “He’s no Tyler, that’s for sure. I think I learned my lesson from that time.” You watch him carefully, playfully leaning forward on the bar a little just to try and catch his eye. The attempt doesn’t go unnoticed by Matthew and he responds to the antic with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still genuine. “You okay? It was a rough game.”

“Surprised you bothered to watch it with that pretty boy on your arm.” There isn’t as much bite in his words this time around, thankfully, and you don’t bother commenting on that. The past few hours or so have been bad enough already thinking you’d wronged Matthew somehow; the last thing you want is to go back to square one where you argue with him. “Could’ve gone worse, but I think the other guy had it worse than I did.”

“Yeah, you were kind of dragging him around the ice for a bit,” you admit with a wince. “But you’re not hurt?”

“Nah, ‘m good. It really wasn’t as bad as it may have looked,” he assures.

“Hey.”

You turn to follow the sound of your voice, coming face to face with Mark. He wears a big, pleased smile and his expression turns to pure elation when his eyes land on Matthew. He doesn’t reciprocate, barely acknowledges Mark.

“Oh wow, man. I’m a big fan. I’m Mark. Y/N told me all about you,” Mark says and throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing.

Matthew’s eyes briefly settle on the hand Mark is using to hold your shoulder before he shifts his stare back to Mark’s face. Disinterested, he makes a noncommittal sound and arches an eyebrow. “She did? And what’d she say?”

“All good things, I promise. It’s been a praise-fest, but then again, I wouldn’t have expected any less. It’s pretty cool what you’ve been doing all of last season. Just sucks you guys couldn’t get through to the playoffs,” Mark states in a matter-of-fact tone you know Matthew doesn’t appreciate. You can tell by the twitch of his jaw and the way his knuckles whiten just a little as his grip tightens around the almost-empty glass. “But it’s been a good start to the season so hopefully the momentum keeps going. Actually, coming’ to think of it—babe, did I mention it?” he asks and for a moment, you’re floored by the sudden use of the pet name.

Admittedly, Mark seemed somewhat reticent to label what you two have had for almost a month now, so it catches you by surprise. It doesn’t bother you. The pet name, although you can’t say the same for the lack of a label. Sure, you don’t want to rush things and after Tyler, you do prefer taking things slowly, but this is one area in which Mark failed to offer a sense of security. You tried not to dwell on it, though. The more you did, the closer you got to a relatively low period in your life which you got through fine, sure, but you could do with not having your trust, heart and confidence broken. Again.

It’s the expectant look Matthew throws at you that seems to kick your gears back into function and you stutter, “sorry—what?”

“I used to play hockey too, back when I was a kid and up until college. Had a pretty good record, actually, got quite a few big names reaching out to me,” Mark reveals. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“That so?” Matthew drawls. “Why’d you stop? If you were so good at it.” Matthew doesn’t say it nicely at all. He’s more mocking than anything and you try to shoot him a warning glance, but it goes totally over his head.

Mark misses that, however. He shrugs casually but his demeanor is unlike what you’ve seen from him so far. You’d seen the very same attitude countless times around college and especially, at parties. It’s every bit the attempt to come across as the alpha male.

“Don’t think I would’ve been able to deal with the attention, really. All the cameras, all the people and the fans. It just would’ve been a little too much for me at some point. I think you know what I mean. Couple of scouts do keep in touch with me regularly though, just in case I change my mind. Imagine that, babe.” Mark gives your shoulders a quick shake, then presses a kiss against your temple. You manage a smile in response, pretty speechless and unsure how to respond to that; he never mentioned anything like it sooner. “Then you’d be wearing’ my jersey instead,” he adds, making a whole show of looking at your back where Matthew’s last name and number stood on proud display. “Hey, coming to think of it. We could actually get one personalized, don’t you think? Little anniversary gift when we get there.” He bends down so quickly you had no time to anticipate the kiss he presses on your mouth, the palm of his head resting on the back of your head to keep you in place.

It’s short and not really sweet, but there’s thunder in Matthew’s eyes. He downs what’s left of his drink and throws a look over your shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it,” he mutters but he’s only looking at you, not even bothering to acknowledge Mark. “I’ve got some plans for the rest of the night.”

“Matt…” you start, but he doesn’t look back at you.

Mark occupies his seat instead, although you turn to follow Matthew with your eyes as he cuts through the crowd. He stops just short of a petite brunette who seemed to have been eyeing him until your arrival because when he arrives, you can read that sort of body language she uses easily: she flicks strands of nicely curled hair over her shoulder, dips her head just so as she laughs to whatever it is that Matthew says to her, looking up at him through her lashes. You purse your lips, mouth suddenly dry and turn away from the sight so quickly that you try to not linger too much on the why behind that.

Mark is different, but in the wrong sort of way. At first, you thought his support towards the Flames was truly something more genuine, truly rooted in a childhood pastime but it takes a drunken spiel for you to find out just how wrong you were.

It happened just days after you introduced him to Matthew, while watching an away game. The Flames were playing in Toronto and as is usually the case, you managed to clear your evening in order to catch the game from home. Mark had dropped by out of the blue so you figured the two of you could spend the next few hours on your couch, cheering when appropriate or yelling at the screen if the other team scored. Except, it was just you sitting on the edge of the seat while Mark went through one bottle of beer after another. At first, you didn’t pay much attention to the commentary he made whenever a Flames player missed the net. To viewers, it seemed easy to say that if the puck was hit only a fraction of a second earlier, it would’ve gone in, but you could only imagine the pressure the players were under. But progressively, his tirade was a constant; something you didn’t really need to have going on while you were trying to focus on the game. That, and he was starting to border on downright rude. These were your friends he was slamming, and you didn’t want to bear witness to it any longer.

“When I played, nothing like this was ever happening’, you wouldn’t catch me dead making such rookie mistakes,” he bragged. “That was a fucking rookie mistake. Now, I get this is only Tkachuk’s second regular season, but sometimes I swear he tries to start up fights just to try and get people to overlook his mistakes—”

“Mark, drop it. Now,” you warn, voice low.

“I’m not lying though. What? You can’t be honest because he’s your friend or something? Come on, Y/N, you saw what just happened now. Rookie. Mistake. You don’t do stuff like that in the pro league—”

“How would you even know,” you sighed.

“What?”

“I said, how would you even know? You’re not playing pro, haven’t played pro so how would you know if that was a rookie mistake or an interference? It sure looked like he was being prevented from reaching the puck,” you explained tiredly.

Mark scoffed. “’course you’re going to stick with him. Can’t expect anything’ less—no, no. Can’t expect anything more.”

“Mark, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Maybe we need to call it a night,” you suggested and to further make your point, switched off the TV and stood up, ready to walk him to the door. It made your blood boil that you had to miss the end of the game.

It took him some time to come to terms with the fact that he was being thrown out of your place. When he finally did and walked to the door where you held it slightly opened, he glared at you. “Figures you’d take his side. Dude’s not only trying to compensate for his skills on ice by stirring up shit, but he’s also trying to compensate off ice by looking at other guys’ girls rather than getting his own.”

You rolled your eyes. Mark was well tipsy so only he would know what he meant, but you also knew that Matthew had absolutely no problem getting girls. Whichever one he wanted.

You hoped you wouldn’t be proven right when you turned up to his place the next day, knowing he would be back in Calgary. Thankfully, when Matthew opened his door, he seemed to have only Sean for company, and both were smashing it on a game console.

“Not out with your boyfriend today?” he questioned.

You blinked up at him, confused. “What do you mean boyfriend?” you asked and weren’t even feigning it. After all, Mark had avoided that label. At Matthew’s pointed stare, you groaned quietly. “He talked badly about you, so I sent him away.”

Matthew blinked, then slowly, he started grinning. “You broke up with your boyfriend because he talked shit about me?” He threw his head back with laughter, stepping aside to let you in while you mumbled an embarrassed give me a break, Matthew.

From the couch, Sean called out, “who broke up with who because they talked shit about you?” When he turned around and saw you, he smirked, said, “ah, figures,” then turned back to the game.

three.

Chris is convenient. He starts coming to hang out with you, Matthew and the rest of your friends when Matthew begins seeing Madison often enough for it to be something a little more than casual between them. The second season is mind-blowing for the Flames as a team and Matthew individually. He continues leading them points-wise well into his second year with the team and, unsurprisingly to you, makes it All Star. When Matthew returns from Missouri, Madison comes with him. He introduces her to everyone a night before the regular season returns and she’s every bit the sort of girl you imagine Matthew to end up with. She’s tall and her build is testament to being a yoga instructor with an impressive follower count on social media, and she knows exactly what to say to wow everyone. She’s a social butterfly fluttering from person to person, fitting in as easily as if this has always been her place. She wouldn’t struggle to capture anyone’s eye the moment she walks in the room and it wouldn’t surprise you if Matthew would say it was love at first sight. You’re pleased for him, really. He seems to glow with her on his arm and occasionally, when they seem to be lost in a world of their own, you look towards them (Matthew) and an overwhelming feeling of want fills you.

“Do you want a refill?”

You almost jump in your place but thankfully manage not to, just about. Chris is a close friend of Madison’s who resides in Calgary during term time and he’d tagged along with her this evening. He doesn’t know much about hockey, so the players present tonight had to introduce themselves to him. Sometimes, he confuses them and it’s a little cute how he profusely apologizes, all genuine-like.

“Yes, thank you,” you say and almost slide your empty cup towards him but out of the corner of your eye, you just about catch Madison leaning into Matthew, lips pressing to his, and you stand up in a last-minute change of heart. “Actually, I’ll come with you. I want to see what else is on offer.”

You really are pleased for Matthew. It’s just that he’s been a little distance throughout the course of the evening, is all, barely exchanging a word with you. Barely even glancing your way and each time someone made a joke or some sort of reference the two of you would definitely understand, Matthew would always shift his gaze away from you if you’d managed to catch him looking in your general direction. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to dedicate as much attention as possible towards his…well, girlfriend. There’s no thrill quite like the start of a new relationship and coming to think of it, you could maybe count on a single hand the girls you’d seen Matthew with. And even those you have seen it was strictly between them how long they would be together and for what reason. You didn’t want to question him. Though, honestly, maybe you should have taken the liberty to do so given he seemed to be vetting all your own boyfriends regardless of whether you asked him or not.

“So, where do you know them from?” Chris asks as soon as the two of you make it to the kitchen. Compared to the rest of the place, it’s significantly less busy although the noise from the living room carries. “I don’t suppose you’re seeing any of them?”

You feign disappointment. “That obvious?” When he laughs, you confirm with a shake of your head. “I knew Matthew before I knew the rest of them. Naturally. I met him back in high school while he played in Ontario. I was there for two years before coming over to Calgary with my family. This was before Matthew started playing for the Flames, but we’d kept in touch anyway, so it was a pretty pleasant surprise when he was drafted for this team. One thing led to another and, well, here we are,” you conclude with a shrug. It’s only after Chris raises his eyebrows that you realize how odd that must’ve sounded. Flushed, you shake your head quickly, panicking somewhat. “No, no, no! Not like that. Definitely not like that. Sorry. I mean, once he flew in, we got in touch and here we are.”

Chris laughed while you sorted through some of the bottles left on the kitchen island as a free-for-all, not rooting for something in particular. “Sounds like the two of you are pretty tight.”

You cast a cursory glance towards the living room. Matthew is engaged in conversation with Sean and Noah while Madison is being led away by one of the other girls towards the balcony. “We’re good friends.”

Chris didn’t question you any further on your friendship with Matthew or anything of the sort. Instead, you find out both of you attend the same college, but he’s in the first year of his graduate program while you’re just due to wrap up the third year of undergraduate. Chris is the middle of five siblings which, he claims, makes his life both a living hell and a nightmare depending on which two he leans more towards on any given day. It’s funny to hear how chaotic it could be. You never really felt lonely growing up as an only child, but there are times when you wish you could have someone that has known you the way only a sibling could. For you, your tightly knitted circle of friends filled in that gap, so you were grateful. His stories were endless though, one more hysterical than the other and before you knew it, you were part of the handful of people still around and it was well past midnight. Between his company and the few drinks you had, one of which was a rather impressive mixer he made with what was available, you’d lost track of time. Track of quite a lot of other things apparently, because one moment you were leaning against the counter and the next, Chris was crowding you against it. Though the two of you weren’t kissing, your heads were close together and his breath was warm against your skin, sending chills down your spine.

“Mads is looking for you.” You push Chris away as if you have been caught in a less savory act, taking an extra step back for added caution. Matthew looks from Chris to you, then back again before pointing back over his shoulder. “She’s on her way to get her jacket and we’ll head out in a little.”

“Are you taking her home?” Chris questions.

Matthew looks at you briefly, then nods once. “Yeah.”

“Oh, good,” he says to Matthew and then to you, “wait for me? It’s pretty late so we can head out together.”

“Sure. Thanks,” you respond, flashing him a small smile before he heads out of the kitchen, leaving you and Matthew alone for the first time that night. Actually, for the first time in about a week, give or take a few days. It feels like forever. “So, Madison. She’s gorgeous. How’d you manage it, Tkachuk?” you joke and thankfully, you pull off just the right tone for it.

“Just,” he responds with a shrug of his shoulders.

You arch an eyebrow. “Great story! Definitely one for the books. Honestly, you really got me at the part that would make anyone go ‘use your words, Matthew’. I’m pretty sure there were actual tears in my eyes, so imagine how that story’s going to go down with the crowd years down the line.” This seems to do it for him. You see the beginnings of a smile until slowly, he’s reduced to silent laughter that makes his shoulders tremble from it.

“Yeah, alright, whatever. Smart me again, see where that gets you,” he challenges.

“Two steps ahead of you but we’re making it three tonight because I deserve extra credit when you make it especially difficult. I’ve gotta burn off double the energy whenever you do that, Matthew.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, you’re special like that. I get it.”

“Had fun at the All-Star game?” you ask because you didn’t get much of a chance to hear from him about it. Not directly, anyway. You definitely watched the broadcast though, but hockey games and events like this always seemed entirely different when they were related to you directly from the source.

Matthew is a good narrator, though, always weaving in some witty remarks or chirpy statements. But he still remains honest as he recounts the days spent in Missouri, saying how great it was to be around so many other players in an environment that was less competitive and more about coming together and having fun. It’s a significantly condensed version of events, and after he finishes recounting some of his stand-out moments, he says, “anyway, it’s getting late. Grab your jacket, I’ll take you home.”

You blink, confused. “Um, Matthew.”

Right on time, Madison arrives with Chris in tow and she hooks her arm around Matthew’s, pressing a kiss on his cheek and confirming she’s ready to go when he is. Maybe it’s the alcohol muddling things up for you, but you’d swear the smile he shoots you is apologetic.

“Force of habit,” he says but doesn’t elaborate when Madison asks what he means by that.

Even later, when you accept Chris’ invitation to his place and by extension, his bedroom, you can’t deny the regret you felt. The last words Matthew said to you at the end of the night bounced around in your head and they sounded an awful lot like that force of habit will now become a thing of the past.

Chris is convenient because he’s there whenever you need to fool yourself into thinking you weren’t thinking about Matthew in ways you hadn’t before. Or at least, not as often.

You certainly carried a flame for Matthew during the first few months of your friendship back in high school, but you figured that’d go away once you moved to Calgary. Except, there he was also, just a few months after you and suddenly, you were sixteen again and relating to every pinning song that came on the radio while Matthew’s face flashed through your mind, trying to figure out if you wanted his last name or yours to come before the hyphen. If you really thought about it (you did: once in the morning, once at some point throughout the day when time seemed to be ticking by slowly and you were idle, and once while trying to fall asleep, damnit), then you had to admit to yourself that all along, you allowed yourself to go from one romantic disappointment to the next to fill a gap you know would never be filled anyway because none were Matthew. In worst cases, none were Matthew and they were dicks. Regardless of how often you tried seeing yourself with him (and you definitely did; always wondering how it’d be like if instead of sitting side-by-side on the couch, you could be lying down on it, comfortably embracing), a cloud of realization always formed: you were a childhood friend of his, the girl-from-way-back who he saw at her worst and her best, but this was it. Sure, he knew you as well as one could know a person and where would the element of surprise still be? That air of mystery, the je ne sais quoi that apparently draws men in like bees to honey.

So, Chris is convenient, and you feel bad that that’s all there is to it. Sure, he is good looking and funny and genuine but to you, he’s another guy trying to fill someone else’s shoes. He’s simply too nice to allow yourself to try and continue something with him which you know you’ll never put your entire heart into.

This time, when you let Chris go, you do not tell Matthew about it. You figure there isn’t really space anymore for you to fit in from such an emotional, private perspective. Matthew has moved on to a different sort of baggage.

four.

Kyle is flirty and direct. You also know that Kyle will probably not last long, not just because he won’t be around for longer than a summer but also because you simply lost that spark of energy that pushed you to consider others, to give someone else a shot that Matthew can’t take. The two of you meet at the summer lake house of one of your high school friends who is due to tie the knot there in the next few days. He’s a family friend and has flown in from abroad, so you take some comfort knowing that both of you are on the same page: you can mess around a little without any expectations right from the get-to and there is something so freeing about that.

While you are joined by your best friend as your plus one, Matthew comes with Madison. They’re a good few months in their relationship and though it hurts, you slowly start to come to terms that it’s just something you have to deal with. Maybe next time, you could appreciate what you have next to you sooner, before it’s gone.

Not that there will be a next time, anyway.

The lake house is amazing. It’s sprawling, rustic and homey and the entire décor for the event has every little detail fit in with the general vibe. There are white wooden chairs arranged on the grass in neat rows up to the point where the wooden deck begins. A tasteful arch with an array of white and pink flowers stands where the bride and groom will exchange vows and from there, all guests will move to the reception area which has been arranged to accommodate both outdoor and indoor seating.

You make the most of all that it’s surrounded by, and also by the general buzz of activity as the big day approaches. In fact, you barely glimpse Matthew or Madison, or Matthew-and-Madison. You’re not actively avoiding them at all, but there’s just always something to do or help out with, not to mention the numerous people coming, going, then coming to stay. Many attendees are from your high school and in a way, this also doubles as a reunion and it’s during evenings of catching up that you come to be within earshot of Matthew.

It hurts you to say it, but it feels as if the two of you may as well be strangers, civil acquaintances at most whenever you do contribute to the same topic of conversation. You feel as if somehow, you’re losing him as a friend – and very rapidly, at that. Somewhere between the start of his relationship with Madison and now, Matthew feels less constant and more impermanent. It’s a feeling you’re still trying to process, but it’s taking you some time.

For now, you take your assigned seat, Rachel on your left and much to your surprise, Kyle at your right. The two of you flirted often and though you’ve exchanged a few kisses now and then, it never went beyond that. Neither of you pushed for anything more so you were happy to just take what he was willing to give. Soon after the wedding, you’ll be catching a flight back to Calgary while Kyle…well, he’ll be doing whatever it is he has planned.

As guests fill in, you look around curiously—not searching, just curious. If your eyes land on Matthew, then that’s just pure coincidence. He’s in your line of sight, what can you do? You try not to dwell on how nice he looks in his crisp white short sleeved shirt and light blue trousers, sunglasses resting atop his head. This time, he didn’t do much to style his hair and you ached to rewind back to days when you could run your fingers through it freely. As if feeling the weight of your stare, he withdraws from the conversation he was engaged in and looks right at you, not even needing to search the crowds. You purse your lips and flash him a smile but turn away quickly.

If Matthew had some sort of sixth sense, yours fails you today. As the bride and groom exchange rings, you can’t hold back the flow of tears at the tender moment shared between them. Rachel holds your hand tightly, though she does a better job at managing her emotions. Too caught up in that, you don’t feel Matthew’s eyes on you from where he is sat across the aisle.

The reception takes you from one range of emotions to another. Thankfully, more pleasant ones this time. You engage in conversation, clink glasses of champagne and pick at the variety of canapes though your sweet tooth seems to win this one tonight. Like the food, there is a buffet style area for desserts and, much to your utter delight, a cotton candy maker that you beeline towards from across the room.

“Knew I’d find you lurking here of all places.”

You jump a little at the sound of Matthew’s voice, but he only snickers in return. When you regain your composure, you lift a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, follow your nose to the sugar and that’s where you’ll find me, Matthew. It’s really not that hard. If I were the location marked X on a pirate’s map, I’d be the easiest one to find.”

Matthew opens his mouth, then closes it again. He looks away when he speaks again. “Not really. You’ve not been easy to get a hold of.”

“You’re really not one to talk,” you say lightly, trying valiantly to not look too deeply into his words in an attempt to put your own meaning to them. “Hey, brighten up, Tkachuk. This is a wedding, saving your glaring for your shifts on ice.” You chuckle and when he throws a disproving look your way, you hold out the candy floss to him to further your point. Matthew doesn’t turn down your offer. He tears some of the pink floss and as soon as that piece melts in his mouth, he reaches to tear another though you playfully hold it away from him. “I didn’t say you can have more than a taste, Matthew, get your own. I don’t like sharing more than I have to.”

He regards you with an odd expression that you can’t put your finger on. “Neither do I, but here we are.”

“Matthew Tkachuk, man of many words. What’s up, seriously? I’m thinking this is more than just a cat’s got your tongue situation. You’re acting…weird. Not very you.”

“I’m acting weird?” Oh, here he goes. You know the way things change when he parrots your words back at you. “You’re the one that hasn’t called, hasn’t texted. Didn’t even drop by once lately. I know you had your end of term stuff to deal with, but last I heard, you wrap up in April. It’s July, and you didn’t say a thing to me since May. I had to hear anything from you—about you from Sean. It’s not cool. So really, who’s acting weird? Me or you?”

You frown, feeling unfairly attacked by him. Sure, you reserved your messages strictly for game night, wishing him good luck as the playoffs approached and once, after the Flames lost their bracket game and had their road to the Stanley Cup cut short, called to speak with him directly, to hear his voice, but what more could you do? Turn up at his place early in the morning with breakfast or in the evening after you’d finished what you needed to for the day? Do that and know you’d run into him or her or him-and-her, imposing on their homely bliss just because you hold (held?) the best friend position?

“Matthew, what the hell are you talking about. Isn’t it obvious? I can’t just turn up to your place and hang out like before because—well. You know why—”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Matthew, because I know you’re not.”

“Thanks. That’s comforting.”

You roll your eyes, but it takes a great deal of effort to not burst into laughter as you fall in place to something resembling your familiar back-and-forth. “Matthew. I’m not acting weird. I’m simply giving you the space that you and your girlfriend need. How would it look if I’m there? What would she think if I just end up letting myself in whenever I feel like it? It doesn’t work like that anymore, Matthew. You know it doesn’t.” At his confused stare, you groan loudly. “Matthew, come on. Stop pretending you don’t understand.”

“I’m not pretending. I genuinely don’t understand. I’m forced to watch one of my best friends get further and further away and I don’t know why. I don’t know why this is happening to me—to us. Why I have to be the only one to watch this happen and not know what to do about it.”

“You’re not the only one,” you supply softly, his words easily soothing your mood. “I have to see it happen too, Matthew. You’re just, well, busy. And I’m just a little busy. So, I guess there’s a clash there.”

He narrows his eyes at you and then looks around the rest of the gazebo. “Are you referring to Madison?”

“What? No! No, oh gosh. Matthew, no. Madison, she’s—she’s great. Awesome and I’m happy for you. So very happy for the both of you. I think both of you look great together, but she does carry the weight for the both of you in the looks department, I have to admit—”

“You’re trying to overcompensate for something you’re not telling me.”

“What do you—”

“Look, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think I am, even if I’m going on my gut feeling with this one. Do you have feelings for me?”

There’s a loud buzzing in your ear, suddenly. Have they started the fireworks already? No, wait. It can’t be that, but there’s definitely something buzzing…ringing…no. Throbbing in your ears. With horror, you realize that noise might actually be the raps of your heart while your mind instantly blares warning signals with signs basically announcing ‘caught in the act!’. You can swear nothing would make this situation worse than if Matthew were to hear the mess happening in your chest right now. It’s not far from impossible, really. You can hardly hear any of the other background noise anymore.

“What.”

“Gut feeling. Like I said, correct me if I’m wrong. But there are times when I thought…maybe, were you looking at me funny? It couldn’t be right though, because you were seeing people and if you weren’t doing that, then you were either fighting off another heartbreak—” Ouch. “—Or, well, were hanging out with me. But it was then I’d think maybe, but probably not.” You honestly needed Matthew to stop talking yesterday. But this is Matthew so he goes on, full steam ahead. “It didn’t come to mind again until, well, recently. Right around the time you started being around less. Kind of coincided with Madison.” He concludes that with a shrug, but his eyes are anything but reflective of the casual demeanor of his body language. They’re intense, watchful and it’s like a flip gets switched on within you and embarrassment takes over.

It’s not the sort of embarrassment that can be played off with a laugh or dismissed with a joke. It’s the type that makes you want to breakdown in tears and hide away from people, from Matthew for as long as it’ll take to forget this even happened. Forever, if you have to.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, but can’t tell what you’re sorry about: for your feelings and what that will do to your friendship or for starting to make a run for it. “I just—There’s something I need to do, and I can’t be here right now.” You turn on your heel and quickly push through the crowd, leaving the half-finished candy floss with Rachel who just about managed to get a word out as you jogged right past her.

By a wonderful twist of fate, it’s Kyle you run into. Actually run into, and when you tell him to not worry about whatever expression he’s seen on your face, he follows without any further questions as you drag him further from the gazebo. You don’t go very far. Frantically, you pull him to you and kiss him deeply, eyes squeezing shut and your entire body presses up to the entire length of his. This seems to be enough for him and he gets with the program almost immediately. His palms trail the sides of your body and his tongue nudges past your lips. You grant him entry immediately, not thinking too much about it. Or at least, not until he comes up for breath by peppering kisses along the column of your throat. While he does that, one of his hands had somehow pulled your leg to hook around his lip and his palm was now trailing your thigh, slipping under your dress.

“Wait, Matthew”

He comes to an abrupt halt. “Y/N, I’m Kyle.”

You blink, confused. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that?”

“You called me Matthew.”

What. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, petrified while Kyle takes a step back.

“Look, I think we need to stop—”

“Yeah. Yeah, good point. I’m sorry, Kyle,” you apologize. “This… I’m sorry, this is so shitty of me. I don’t know where my head’s at…”

He sighs a small sigh and when he smiles, it’s almost pitiful. “No harm done. I just hope you find it in time. Do you want to get back to the party?”

You shake your head, still a little shaken. “Not now. You go ahead without me.”

He nods without saying a word and starts making his way back towards the gazebo. You watch until he blends in with the crowds and you turn towards the house. As if the night couldn’t take another bad turn.

+ one.

Your flight to Calgary is scheduled to depart in the early afternoon. Both you and Rachel leave the house well in advance—well, well in advance because the last thing you need is to be in close proximity with Matthew and Madison. You didn’t know how you’d watch her in the eyes again after the events of the previous night which you recounted for Rachel in a mumble on the way to the airport.

“He was bound to find out at some point,” she says to you and really, after all of that, the last thing you need to hear is something rational like that. “You haven’t been exactly subtle about it. Even some of the boys noticed. We talked about you behind your back often about this.”

You glared at her. “Thanks, Rach. That’s really supportive of you. That’s exactly what I wanted you to do—”

“Relax, Y/N. I promise no one let any of that reach Matthew. If he picked up on it, he did it himself. Probably with a little help from your heart-eyes whenever he was around. Sometimes, I swear you were just one step away from your pupils actually turning into hearts. Could be a little nauseating,” she admits, and you know it’s not ill-intended, but you still complain about it all the way through security.

Rachel deposits you on seats close to the boarding gate while she goes around the stores, and you’re satisfied. You get some time to try to evaluate the situation but there’s very little you can go on. Sure, your friendship with Matthew is about to change drastically. More for worse than the better, that much is clear but you need to run through your options of salvaging what could be left of it. Matthew is a long-time friend of yours and your feelings aside, you’d still care for him deeply. If it has been difficult for you these past couple of months, at least now you know it’s going to get worse. At least, you have a heads-up about it now.

You can’t tell if a long time has passed, but when Rachel returns, she drops in the seat next to you, heaving a sigh.

Except. Wait a minute.

You twist in your seat quickly, coming face to face with Matthew. Your first instinct is to look around for Madison but when you don’t see her at his side, you assume she’s simply browsing around.

You drop your voice to a whisper when you talk with him. “What are you doing?”

“Hi,” Matthew greets. “I’m obviously here to play a game. In a few minutes, you’ll all be directed down to the concrete level where the ice rink is being assembled out of rainwater and plane fuel. The mascot this time is a 90,000-pound commercial jet and instead of t-shirts, they’ll be throwing around suitcases.” His expression is serious, and you can’t help at his perfect delivery. Matthew never misses a beat. Just when you think you one-up him he comes out with something sharper right out of the blue. “I’m here to get on a plane. Kind of the function of an airport. What are you doing?”

You hesitate before answering, not quite sure how to approach conversation with him suddenly. “Going home. Obviously. Function of an airport and all that.”

“Okay.” Matthew slouches a little in his seat. “Can I come with you?”

“Are you going back to Calgary?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, duh. We’re about to get on the same plane.”

“No. I mean, can I come home with you? Home-home. Where you live.”

You stare at him, baffled, but that quickly switches to frustration. “Matthew, it’s not funny. I get it, from the outside it might seem it. Like, ha-ha look at her and her little crush on Matthew, isn’t it cute? But it’s really not funny to me and I’d appreciate if you could back off and not put me in a more awkward position than I already am. First with you and soon enough, with Madison if you keep this up. Look, Matthew. I apologized last night and I’m doing it again now. I’m sorry if this puts you in an awkward position, but I’ll deal with it soon enough. You don’t need to acknowledge it. As a matter of fact, I’m asking you to do that. Now, please. Could you just—please, just drop it? Where’s Madison? I really don’t want her to hear any of this, honestly.”

Matthew narrows his eyes a little and purses his lips as if inspecting you. Honestly, he can be such a pest off-ice also and it grinds you nerves in a way that you know only Matthew can do.

“Madison’s flying to Missouri later,” he responds at last.

“Oh. Um. Okay. Well, why?”

Matthew starts swinging one of his legs as he adjusts in a more comfortable position in his seat. “Because that’s where she lives,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I think it is cute. Your crush on me. How little are we talking about here, though?”

What the hell.

What the hell is wrong with him and what the hell is wrong with this situation.

You realize you must have voiced that out loud after he chuckles.

“I—uh. Do you think we can maybe not use the word ‘crush’ here?”

You roll your eyes. “Why? That too cute for you or something? Anyway, you’re really not making any sense and I’m a bit, no—a lot confused, so—”

“I like you too. But not a little. I like you a lot. I don’t think it’s cute though, not to me at least. It sucks watching you go into a relationship with a guy that doesn’t even deserve you, only to have you come out of it hurt. Sometimes, I wonder how much you’ll really be able to take before it gets too much and then you write it off entirely. Before I could even ask you for a chance,” he admits, flooring you. “Madison is going back home because I realized I was with her for all the wrong reasons. She didn’t deserve to be a second option. I think she realized it way sooner than I did though. She just—she wasn’t you. No one can be. Will be. So, can I come with you?”

You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your knees and head held in your hands, staring at the floor blankly while trying to process. One by one, the words sink in, but it takes some time to also process them properly. Matthew likes you. Matthew likes you too.

A set of fingers wrap around your wrist, gently lowering your hand down and then Matthew releases his hold only to keep his hand out to you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. You stare at his palm for a moment and then place your own into it, watching in fascination as his fingers interlink with yours once you lean back in the chair.

Above you, an announcement calls all passengers boarding the 2.40pm plane to Calgary to make their way to gate 20A for boarding.

Matthew is animated, volatile, annoying and endearing, often nearly all at once.

In your bed, though, hours after the sun has risen and he starts stirring awake, Matthew is all soft sighs and low groans. His hands search for you blindly and when they find you, he pulls you to him until your legs intertwine with his and his chin rests atop your head, holding you there until either he considers it an appropriate time (often, so late that you’d barely just catch conventional lunch hours) or you really need to make a move on, for one reason or another. Always, he complains about having to move but you learn it’s really just a ploy of his to try and earn a few soft-spoken pleasantries from you. A come on baby here, and a Matthew, I’m really fucking serious now there can make the world go around.

Today, he chooses to make the most of the last day off before training camp begins ahead of the new season. You don’t complain and let him have this moment. After all, it’s yours as much as it is his.

You press a kiss against the base of his neck and his response is a hummed mhm.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #*#this isn't a new piece of writing by any means dkjghdf #i just had it from a really long time ago and though eh let me post why not

407 notes · View notes

harlowhockeystick · 2 years

Note

fluff 15 with matthew tkachuk <3

"i don't wanna sleep without you"

blurb weekend, every weekend

contains: fluff, sappy matthew, gn!reader

this is so short i am sorry <3

"what's up with you? you're being extra clingy today." you asked him, propping your elbow up on the mattress, your other hand going to rest on his cheek. matthew's alarm went off at least ten minutes ago, but he still had yet to get out of bed.

"nothin'," he simply responded, turning his face to press a kiss to your clothed body, attempting to cuddle closer to you. matthew knew that he had a long day ahead of him, and he wanted to soak up every extra minute he had to rest.

turning back over on your back you pulled your phone off the table, scrolling through notifications to see what you missed during your sleep. but matthew, greedy for attention, took your phone out of your hands and slide it underneath the pillows. you laughed, feeling his scruffy beard rub against your exposed skin of your neck.

"you're gonna have to get up soon, you know, can't have you being late again." he planted himself on top of you, his left arm wrapping around your body to keep you as close as possible. "being late means you getting in trouble, and you being in trouble means you probably come home late where you just end up sleeping on the couch- and you know i can't sleep without you. so please, go."

you felt him sigh against you, but he eventually got up out of bed. you sat up, resting against the headboard as you scrolled through social media. before he left he came over to give you a kiss on the cheek, knowing he wouldn't see you until after his game that evening.

"if you play good i'll wear that red thing you like," you said suggestively, getting him to raise his eyebrows.

"ooh, even more motivation. i like it."

#j's writing #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #scheduled

321 notes · View notes

huggybug · 2 years

Note

24 with matthew tkachuk? thanks so much <3

happy dilf day!

24. “Hey, some kids are climbing over the fence,”-“What are you... Oh, shit those are my kids!”

The Tkachuk’s hosted a barbecue at the beginning of summer. It was mostly to welcome the boys home but everyone always had a good time and ever since the kids have been old enough to be aware of what was happening, they’ve loved coming back to St. Louis and have looked forward to it.

“Your cousins are over there” You point your kids in the direction of the group of both Brady and Taryn’s kids who are already playing a game in one corner of the backyard. They run off quickly while you and Matthew talk to Keith and Chantal.

You make your way over to Brady and Taryn and both of their significant others and you’re all catching up while the kids play together.

“Hey, the kids are climbing over the fence” Keith says as he passed by the group on his way to the grill.

“Probably Brady’s” Taryn says as everyone turns to look. It was a running joke that Brady’s kids were a little wild so it wouldn’t have to put of question.

“What are you... Oh, shit those are my kids!” Matthew dashes over to pull both of your kids off the fence.

“Feet stay on the ground” You can hear Matthew tell them and you laugh as you walk over.

“Are you two trying to be monkeys?” You ask your kids who smile brightly at you.

“Daddy got mad” You daughter giggles and Matthew sighs while looking at you.

“He tried to be scary” Your son adds in and they both burst out laughing.

“I can’t even be taken seriously by my own children!” Matthew exclaims and you can barely contain your laughter.

#happy dilf day!#matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #dad au #calgary flames #hockey writing #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players

200 notes · View notes

sorryjustafangirl · 2 years

Text

wish we were older

a/n: two fics in one week? do not get used to this lol. but in honour of his 200th assist, here is a fic that's been a wip for way too long. it's based off of angel baribeau's song 'wish we were older' and is basically 4 times matthew wished he was older and one time he didn't. also there's a little easter egg in this one let me know if you find it ;)

pairing: matthew tkachuk x gn!reader

word count: 4k+

warnings: a couple swears, one mention of sex, kids

disclaimer: this is a piece of fiction and real person fiction so if that doesn't vibe with you, please don't read! also, gif is not mine, all credit to the wonderful creator.

Most people want to be younger. In Western society, aging is one of the worst things that can happen to you. There are skin treatments and surgeries to make your skin look younger, look healthier. When you’re young, you have no responsibilities, no expectations, there’s no judgement. Most people want to be younger, but not Matthew Tkachuk. He always knew that all he wanted was to be older – to live his life with you.

one - age six

“Can we play my game now?” You whined, standing in front of the soccer net. He had invited you over to play, and as his best friend, you said yes. But you didn’t think he’d make you stand in front of a net while he scored on you over and over again.

“Fine,” He grumbled, picking up the ball. “What do you want to play?”

“House!” You grinned widely, and Matthew found himself smiling at you despite how much he’d rather be kicking a ball than playing house. He liked making you happy.

You walked over to the small playhouse that was in their backyard and explained that he was going to be at work and you were going to be home and you’d make him supper. He didn’t like house that much because there was a lot of doing nothing on his end so he tried making a suggestion.

“Shouldn’t we be married if we play house?”

“I mean, I guess, but we can just pretend we’re married.”

“No, I think we should, like, do a wedding and stuff. It’ll be fun! I can make us rings!” His eyes lit up at the idea of doing something that wasn’t sitting around and when you looked over at him, you couldn’t deny his request. You liked seeing him smile.

“Fine, we can do that. I can pick some flowers!” You went to the garden to pull yourself a bouquet while Matthew ran inside.

“Mom?” He yelled, running into the kitchen. Chantel set down the knife she was holding to look over to her oldest son.

“What?”

He grabbed a cracker for the snack board she had set out and stuffed it in his mouth. He grumbled out his words but his mom just raised her eyebrows.

With a mouthful of crackers, he managed to get out his words. “Where’s the tinfoil?”

“I can grab it for you.” She turned to the drawer next to her and pulled out the container. He went to grab it, but she pulled it back. “Why do you want it?”

“I need to make rings! Y/n and I are going to get married!”

“Really?” Matthew nodded with his chest puffed out.

“I hate to break it to you, but normally you get married to people you love.”

“I love Y/n.” Or at least he thought he did. It was what his parents had and what his grandparents had. It was liking someone enough to spend all your time together and he already did that with you.

His mom gave him an amused smile. “Well, you’ve got to be older to get married, sweetheart.”

“Then I wish I was older!”

“Don’t wish your life away son!” His dad called from the other room and Matthew sighed, grabbing the tinfoil container to go back outside to play with you where his parents couldn’t burst his bubble.

He sat down pulling the tin foil to make two tiny rings, big enough for just your small fingers. When he was finished, he looked for you and saw you sitting on the ground putting a bouquet together. He just looked at you and looked at how the sun made your hair look pretty, smiling. This was a lot better than playing house.

“Are you done?” He asked. You nodded and stood up, him doing the same. You met in the middle and he started.

“Do you want to marry me?”

You nodded. “I do.” He slid one of the makeshift rings onto your hand. “Do you want to marry me?”

“I do,” he answered, and you slid the other ring onto his finger. “Ta-da! We’re married now!”

You grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away to dance in the grass. Matthew stood back, in shock from your kiss, before softening and admiring you. Despite his dad’s words from earlier, he still wanted to be older.

two - age thirteen

“It’s Y/n! I got it!” Matthew yelled to the house as he saw your phone number pop up on the TV he was watching. He raced to his bedroom, grabbing the phone from his parents’ bedroom on the way. Your family had moved away from his, not far, but you were still his closest friend. You talked all the time at school and you always came to his games. He flopped on his bed before answering the ringing phone. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Matty?” The tone of your voice had him sitting upright immediately. Your voice was quiet and he swore he heard it crack.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No. Why do you think you’re stupid?”

You sniffled on the other end. “Charlie told me I was. And ugly too.” Charlie, aka your ‘boyfriend’. There was no label but from what you told Matthew, you both really liked each other.

“Charlie said that? Are you kidding me?” You mumbled a ‘no’ and Matthew sighed. “Well, you’re not those things. Charlie’s the stupid ugly one.”

You stayed silent. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“How can I? Charlie’s the most popular guy in Mr. Jackson’s class. And he like-liked me. Or I thought he did,” you said, wiping some stray tears away.

“How can I make you feel better?” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you.

“A hug would be nice but it’s already past my bedtime, and you have a game tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Matthew felt helpless.

“It’s fine, Matty. Thanks for listening.”

“Yeah, yeah, anytime. I mean that, call me whenever, I don’t mind.” You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, but he couldn’t shake this feeling he had – like he didn’t do his job as your best friend. That’s when he had his idea.

“Mom! Can you drive me to Y/n’s house?”

“Matthew, it’s almost time for bed and you have a game tomorrow,”

“I know but I need to go to Y/n’s right now, Mom, please! It’s important,” He pleaded and Chantel narrowed her eyes. Pursing her lips, she nodded, grabbing the car keys and opened the garage door. Matthew raced out to the car and put his seatbelt, wiggling in his seat until they were on their way to you. She had barely put the car in park in front of your house before Matthew was running towards the front door.

He knocked a few times and you timidly opened the door, peaking your head out. He sent you a smile and your eyes started to well with tears. He immediately brought you into a hug and you relished in the comfort of your best friend.

The two of you sat on your porch steps and in no time, Matthew had you laughing about silly jokes about Charlie, telling you how you’re way too smart for him anyways. You leaned your head on his shoulder and thanked him for coming over to comfort you.

“It’s nothing. You needed me and I came. No big deal.”

The honk of Chantel’s car blared quickly, and he sighed. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow after my game, right?” You nodded your head and he gave you another hug.

“Matthew! Let’s go!” He rolled his eyes at his mom, but knew she wouldn’t hesitate to get out of the car and drag him to bed. He left your porch and climbed back into the car, waving at you as you went back inside your house.

“Why couldn’t I have five more minutes?” He grumbled as his mom drove away.

“Until you’re old enough to drive yourself around on game nights, I will decide when we leave.”

He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned against the window. ‘I wish I was older’ were his last thoughts before he slipped into his dreams.

three - age nineteen

Matthew had asked you out the summer after sophomore year and the two of you had been going out ever since. He was a happier version of himself when he could call you his and he could unashamedly compliment you in public. Even when he was drafted to the OHL, it didn’t hinder the connection you had. The long distance wasn’t ideal, but he was still relatively close. Calgary was much further away.

You had accepted a full ride scholarship to the University of Missouri-St. Louis, and there was no way Matthew would let you give that up just so the two of you could be closer. He’d seen you work so hard, doing homework while watching his games and reading papers until 2am on FaceTime with him. You were two years into your degree and loving it, he couldn’t ask you to leave all of that to come to Calgary with him.

He didn’t even have to ask you to come with him to see the city for the first time. School wouldn’t start for another week, and neither of you were ready for the year ahead. You’d joined the family on the plane, his hand never leaving yours (except to put your carry-on in the overhead compartment). The two of you toured the city, sharing in the mundane moments like seeing the Calgary Tower and the dinosaurs at the zoo (“What other kind of zoo has dinosaurs babe?! They move! This is so cool.”). The family all went out for dinner the night before your flight was to depart from Calgary and the whole night was spent with Matthew’s hand on your thigh. You leaned into him as Keith shared stories of baby Matthew and Brady chimed in with his own chirps. You’d all shared a bottle of wine and Matthew’s billets had given you permission to stay the night with him, as long as nothing happened. You assured them the two of you would be on your best behaviour, and even when he teased you, you shut it down. The random grown adults upstairs were enough to kill the mood.

The two of you brushed your teeth together, catching glances in the mirror, Matthew’s hand resting on your hip bone. You bumped into his side and he sent you a cheeky smile before softly bumping you back. He finished changing into his pajamas first, the Superman pair you had bought him last Christmas as a joke. When he asked why Superman, you simply replied, “Because you’re my hero Matty.” He’d never forgotten those words. When you finished changing, you turned to see him under the covers, one hand holding the comforter up, so you could snuggle in beside him.

You pressed your head against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat you wouldn’t hear for a while. His hand softly traced over your back, his other hand playing with your fingers. You slowly dozed off and Matthew was quick to follow you. It wasn’t hard when he was holding the love of his life in his arms.

The next morning, you had a hard time getting out of bed. Not just because you’d have to leave, but because Matthew’s grip around your waist wouldn’t budge.

“Matty, I have to get up, your parents will be here soon.” He groaned but released you and watched you get ready from the bed. He watched the way your hair fell naturally, the way your forehead wrinkled when you couldn’t find something, the way your eyes softened when they met his. He made grabby hands from the bed and you checked the clock. You humored him and fell back into his embrace for five more minutes.

You pulled him out of bed, pajama pants and all, to say goodbye as his parents pulled up into the driveway. They let you and him have a private goodbye, standing by the car. Matthew was quick to take you into his arms.

“I wish we were older so we didn’t have to say goodbye,” He mumbled into your shoulder. His words brought tears to your eyes and you swallowed before you answered him.

“It’s not a goodbye, it’s a see you soon.” You rubbed his back and he squeezed you even tighter. You tried to pull away but he refused, holding you for just another minute before letting go. Your hands found their way to his face, lightly stroking his cheekbones. “Listen to me, Matty. You are going to be amazing here, okay? You’re going to blow everyone away, I just know it. I’ll be cheering you on the whole time.”

He nodded and pulled you in for one last kiss. You squeezed his hand before passing him off to his parents, getting into the car beside Brady. When the Tkachuks were all buckled in, Keith put the car in reverse, starting the drive to the airport. You waved to Matthew and he waved back. You softly mouthed ‘I love you’ and he said it back. As he got smaller and smaller in the background, you couldn’t help but hope Matthew’s wish would come true soon.

four - age twenty four

Johnny became a dad. Lucic's kid started kindergarten. His cousin got married. The PT, Leila, just had her baby. It didn't help Taryn kept sending him pictures of the neighbours’ newborn asking him she was going to be an aunt.

Matthew's hands tightened on his laces and he pulled them tight enough to have white marks on his hands. He shook them and tried to ignore his teammate's coos about his newest addition. Yeah, the kid was cute but did Johnny have to rub it in everyone's faces? He sighed as he put on the rest of his equipment and left the dressing room early. He skated on the ice alone, stickhandling and shooting some loose pucks towards the net-- not that any of them went in. His mind wasn't there.

All he wanted, and all he had wanted for the past five years, was to be your husband. To have kids of his own, to be the family man like his dad. But he had to wait for that.

Matthew Tkachuk isn't an overly patient man. He's driven by impulsive decisions, his mouth running during a game before he can consciously decide what to say. He moves before he can think, his body instinctively moving, on the ice, in a fight, even as a kid he was like that. And he’d tested his patience and done his waiting.

After four years of long distance while you finished your degree, something he was so proud of you for, you were finally in Calgary with him. When you had said you wanted to get your Master's, he had all but begged you to stay in your new hometown with him. He had done four years of virtual dates and FaceTime calls, four years of only seeing each other in the offseason and Christmas because you could never get the All-Star break off of school. He'd done four years without you and there was no way he was letting you leave again.

So you applied to the University of Calgary (no surprise you got accepted) and started your program. He had wanted to propose the moment you got accepted, but he figured it would be best to celebrate the two things separately. So he waited. At first, Matthew thought it was going to be wonderful. You'd spend more time together, he'd get to cheer you on, he'd get to go to sleep with you in his arms. He was mostly right -- but the life you shared was hectic between your school schedule and his intensive regimen. There was barely enough time to plan date nights, let alone the evidential wedding that would happen when he proposed. So he waited longer.

Finally, your program finished and there was time in the world to celebrate that. School was done and you already had a job lined up that started in two weeks. He'd had enough of waiting at that point and popped the question. It was perfect and everything you'd ever wanted and Matt was just happy you said yes. You had always been the one for him but he knew he could be a bit of an asshole every now and again.

So between the engagement, wedding planning, your new job, the start of a new season, Matthew knew it wasn’t the right time for a kid, but goddamn did he ever want one.

Everyone filtered onto the ice, beginning their warmup. He mostly stayed away from the group, his mind on how he couldn't have all the things he wanted. He didn't need, or want, reinforcement from his teammates of what he's missing out on.

He stayed near the back for most of the practice, missing shots left and right, and grimacing every time Sutter’s mouth turned into a frown at him. He just couldn’t get the thought of a family out of his head. What Sunday mornings would be like, how the family photos would look sitting on top of the fireplace, how you’d look holding his kid in your arms...

Gio skated up beside him in line, letting the others go in front of them. "Chucky, what is going on?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me. What's buggin' ya?" Matt looked up at the ceiling and shifted on his skates like a little kid.

"It's just like... everyone's having kids and having a family and getting married and I just- I want that so badly but it's just not the right time for me and Y/N. I just, like, I wish I was older so I can have that, you know? But whatever, it's fine, I'll get over it."

"You don't have to get over Matt, it's normal. You're having baby fever. And I know it's hard, but enjoy the time the two of you have by yourselves. Take a spontaneous trip. Have sex with the door open. Do all the things you can't with kids. This isn't a waiting period in your life for something better, this is your life. Have some patience, alright kid?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. Thanks, man."

"Good, now can you make a goal please? It's embarrassing, Marky isn't even trying." Matt huffed and went off, picking up a puck and hitting the back of the net easily.

+ one - age thirty two

Matthew hopped in his truck and drove away from the arena. Snow was softly falling onto the windshield, but after close to fourteen years after he first came to Calgary, he found comfort in the flakes. A lot had changed since he first came to the city. After Gio was traded, he was named Captain. You had not only moved out from St. Louis to be with him, but he was now your husband.

As he rolled up in the suburban driveway, he smiled as he saw the outside lights welcoming him home. He grabbed his bag and stick, opened the front door, and gently placed it on the floor so as not to disturb his family. He tiptoed his way towards the kitchen, listening to the laughter of his kids.

“When will Daddy be home?” Cameron, your four year old asked. A grin spread across his face and he rounded the corner.

“How about right now?” Shrieks from all Tkachuk kids sent Matthew into a chuckle as Eli, your six year old, launched himself into his arms. Cameron was helped off the counter where he was sitting and you grabbed your eighteen month old, Jada, from her high chair to greet your husband. Cameron joined the group hug and Matthew took a quick moment to sneak in a kiss from you. He tickled Jada’s stomach and her giggles brought a wider grin onto his face, if that was possible.

“Daddy, daddy, can we go skating? I want to show you how good I am at skating now!” Eli asked, once he detangled himself from his dad.

“Sure, bud, after supper, alright?” Matthew ruffled his hair and he smiled, with one tooth missing. He made his way towards you at the stovetop, Cameron on his hip after making the grabby hands at him. He snaked his free arm around your waist and kissed the top of your shoulder.

“How were they today?” You leaned into his embrace as much as you could while keeping an eye on supper.

“They’re your kids so… chaotic as usual. E has been outside as much as he can and Cam spilled his orange juice like four times. He did clean it up, unlike someone’s pile of laundry from his road trip.” He blushed at your glare.

“I love you," He said in a sing-song voice.

“I love you too. The pile is now on your side of the bed so you can’t ignore it. But Jada here finally ate her banana chips, yes she did, yes she did,” you half-said-half-cooed to your daughter on your hip.

“Did she now?” Cameron wiggled in his dad’s arms so he got put down and Matthew took the opportunity to take his daughter from your arms. “Daddy is so proud of you, baby, so proud.” He lightly booped her nose and she giggled. “What about work, did what’s-his-face get back to you?”

“He did, but he wasn’t super helpful, so I’ve got to reach out to his boss and see if she can give me what I need to complete the project. Boys! Suppertime!” You got Jada situated in her high chair and Matthew helped the two boys into their chairs. He served everyone’s plates while you got Jada’s food from the fridge. After a quick saying of grace, the boys dug in and you gave Matthew another kiss before turning to Jada to help her if she needed.

“Daddy, do you know what I know?” Eli said.

“No, bud, what do you know?”

“That me and Cam and Jada are just like you and Uncle Brady and Auntie Taryn because it goes boy and then boy and then girl!” He smiled, even with some food still in his mouth.

“That's right! You are so smart.”

“I want to be like Daddy!” Cameron whined. He crossed his arms and you smiled.

“Of course you can be like Daddy. But first you have to be older," you explained.

“Then I want to be older!”

“Almost, buddy, almost. Do you want to come skating with Eli and I?” Your husband asked. When he nodded, Matthew told the two boys to go get ready and he’d be right there. Then he turned towards you and just watched you with Jada. You turned to him and after a while and tilted your head. He shook his head but you gave him a look. He stood up from his chair, collected the boys plates, before coming behind you.

“It’s nothing...just for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be older. And I realized that I don’t want to be older anymore. I have everything I could possibly want. I am the husband to the love of my life, I’m taking my two sons skating in our backyard, and I just… I don’t know, it feels really fucking good.”

“Even without a Stanley Cup?”

He bent down to be at your eye level and brought one hand to the back of your neck. He gently brought your lips to his and only broke away when Jada squealed. “I have everything I could possibly want right here. There’s nothing better than this home we built,” He whispered. He heard the boys call for him from the back door and he smiled as he went to get ready.

“Hey babe?” He turned around at your voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

thanks for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought!

taglist (join here): @heatherawoowoo @4ambagelbites @tysonjost-taylorsversion @2manytabsopen @stars-canucks @lorrmorr @fallinallincurls @plds2000 @barzysandhughesbaby

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #calgary flames imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #abby writes

365 notes · View notes

nhlandotherimagines · 2 years

Text

Arm Wrestling

Pest in Training Part 2

Dad!Matthew Tkachuk x Reader

Here is another part to this piece, but it can easily be read on its own. I didn’t proof it much because I just wanted to post it for the rats birthday 🥳

Tagging some peeps: @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @stars-canucks @sabtalkshockey

Arm wrestling. It had become your son Caleb’s obsession as of late. So much so, that he insisted everyone in attendance at his 3rd birthday party compete in a competition.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you, because he is the son of Matthew Tkachuk. His competitiveness and stubbornness, along with his wild curls, all traits you swear up and down he inherited from his father. You can’t help but love them both for it.

As you sat on the living room couch, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight in front of you. Matthew kneeling beside the coffee table, his elbow propped up on top of it. His hair was wild, and he donned nothing more than a pair of basketball shorts. Matthew’s carbon copy, leaned across the coffee table from the side opposite him, hand grasping his own. Caleb’s hair equally as untamed, and he sported your favourite pair of flames pj pants.

Caleb’s face began to turn red from the effort he was putting into attempting to beat his father, and it reminded you of a date. Your fourth date with Matthew to be exact.

-flashback-

“No! You’ll beat me!” You fake whined, a small giggle falling past your lips.

“I don’t know y/n, you’ve got some pipes on ya.” Matthew smirked, squeezing your bicep in dramatic fashion. You groaned in response, shoving him playfully.

“Fine! And if I win?” You challenged, lifting an eyebrow up at Matthew as you glared at him across his kitchen table.

“Bragging rights?” He tried, but the disapproving look you shot him had him quickly placing a counteroffer. “Okay, if you win I’ll let you pick the movie.”

The grin on your face, and the glint in your eye had Matthew shaking his head. “Deal! And if you win, I’ll let you stay the night.”

“What makes you think I want to stay?” Your face heated up as he smirked over at you.

“Well it won’t matter, because I’m going to win!”

You rolled your eyes, but ultimately gave in, placing your arm on the table before raising an eyebrow at him. “Let’s see it then Tkachuk.”

The smirk on his face morphed into a wide grin as his hand clasped around your own. He dramatically cleared his throat as he adjusted his elbow on the table.

Once he decided he was happy with the placement of his arm and the grip on your hand, he looked over your joined hands and seemingly directly into your soul. The look, the smile, the feeling of his hand on yours, it was overwhelming. You were head over heels for this guy, and the realization hit you harder than you’d have liked. So, in that moment you decided you would actually try to win. Staying the night wouldn’t be bad at all.

You put everything you had into your arm, pushing as hard as you could. Matthew’s arm barely budged, and the smirk on his face never waivered. Your whole arm shook from the effort, as you tried to fight off the embarrassment creeping up inside you.

As you began to feel your face redden and your arm ache, you were just about to throw in the towel when Matthew’s resolve seemingly began to slip. He made a dramatic attempt to straighten up his elbow as his arm began to slip and bend in the opposite direction.

It didn’t seem real as his hand hit the flat surface of the table, and the pained expression that crossed his face. For a moment though, you allowed yourself to believe. It wasn’t until Matthew placed a congratulatory kiss to your lips, where you could feel the smirk he was attempting to hide.

Shoving him back playfully by the shoulders, you send him what you can only hope is a threatening glance. “You let me win! You just want to get me in bed you little perv!” The smile that broke across your face gave away that you weren’t at all mad at him, but you tried your best to hide it.

He threw his hands up in defence. “No I did not!”

“You’re a terrible liar Tkachuk.”

-end flashback-

“Momma! Your turn!!”

As you snapped out of your little daydream, you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit emotional. Caleb staring back at you with a cheeky grin; he was a Tkachuk for sure.

“Okay baby, you tell Daddy to push over and let the real pro give it a shot.” You winked at Matt, as Caleb erupted into a fit of giggles pushing Matt off the floor to make room for you.

“Well then!” Matthew gasped, faking offence. “Since I’m no longer needed here, I’ll be in the kitchen!”

Caleb paid him no mind as he took his time lining his elbow up on the coffee table once again. You settled into the spot Matthew had vacated, smiling up at him. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, before ruffling Caleb’s mop of curls. “Don’t take it easy on her buddy!”

“M’wont!”

And with that Caleb wrapped his tiny hand around your own. It was awkward given the difference in length between your arms, but Caleb was determined. So, he gave it his all.

You played along, making a point to comment on just how strong he was to which Caleb quickly shushed you.

He was laser focused on the task at hand, and you applied just enough pressure to make it seem as though you were struggling to hold him back. Deciding you were just about done, you counted down from three before you would throw in the towel and give Caleb another victory.

3…

2…

Thud!

Caleb’s little hand hit the table, and needless to say you were quite shocked. You were just about to let him win.

“Caleb? Did you just let Mommy win?” You ask, trying to hide the look of complete bewilderment threatening to break through.

“Ummmm- no?” Caleb was just as good at lying as his father was, and you could read him like a book.

“Why did you do that sweetie?”

“‘Cause Daddy says that I know I love somebody when I let them win an arm wrestle.” He stated, as if this were a well-known fact.

The tears that quickly sprung to your eyes, threatened to spill as you pulled the curly headed boy into your arms, hugging him tight to your chest.

“I love you too little man, but you don’t have to let Mommy win okay?” You punctuate the sentence by placing a big kiss to his cheek, causing him to giggle.

“Good! Because it’s hard to lose to you Momma.”

———

“Your son shared something he learned with me today.” You smirked. You had just finished putting Caleb to bed, and Matthew was in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner.

“Why is he just my son all the sudden?” Matthew teases, placing a kiss to your lips.

“Mm, have you looked in the mirror lately? If I hadn’t given birth to him I’d wonder if he were really mine!” Matthew just rolled his eyes in response, and you pulled yourself up onto the counter next to him. “So what was it that he learned?”

“How you know you love someone.” Matthew smiled at that, cheeks heating slightly as he continued washing the dishes in front of himself. When he didn’t respond, you decided to continue. “Reminded me a lot of the first night I spent with you.”

Matthew hummed, not lifting his gaze to meet your own. Instead he continued to focus on the dishes, so you decided to ask him the one question on your mind. “So that night, why’d you let me win?”

Matthew groaned, bracing his arms against the counter and dropping his head. “Do I have to say it?”

“You’re such a child!” You teased lightly, jumping down from your spot on the counter so you could be closer to him. Wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your chin between his shoulder blades, you continued, “and yes, you have to say it.”

“Because I knew okay?” He sighs exasperatedly, spinning in your grip. His arms looped gently around your shoulders as he smiled down at you, face still tinted pink. “I knew on our fourth date, that this was it. You were it. I was head over heels for you.”

Tears well up in your eyes threatening to spill down your cheeks. Only Matthew could make you feel this special, and god did you love him for it. “I’d let you beat me in an arm wrestling contest too.” You choked out, unsure of how else to portray just how strong your feelings for him were.

“Thank god! Because losing to you and Caleb has really been affecting my self esteem!” He winked, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Matthew Tkachuk, you are such a pest!” You giggled.

“Yeah, but I’m your pest.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew Tkachuk x reader #hockey fanfic #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #jessie writes

304 notes · View notes

pastrnaks-sainz · 2 years

Text

Bloodied and Bruised

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: Injury

Summary: Matthew wasn’t usually accident prone, but this morning’s practice had him beat up in more than one way. He’d taken a puck to the knee, causing him to limp for the rest of the day. And he’d gotten an accidental high stick to the face, causing a small but nasty cut just above his eyebrow. You knew it was bothering him more than usual after he begged you to stay with him.

Request: Hi can you write a Matthew Tkachuk imagine with the prompts 37 and 63 from your list where he had a rough practice and gets injured and you help bandage him up. You want to be there for him even though he usually keeps to himself but this time he needs comfort from his girlfriend with some cuddling please. Thank you! (from anon)

Fluff Prompt #37: “Quit being such a baby and let me put a new Band-Aid on your face” Fluff Prompt #63: “Can you- do you want to- please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone”

~~~~

The front door creaked, announcing Matt’s arrival home from practice. You grinned and hastily wiped your hands on the towel you had over your shoulder before tossing it down to the island. When you saw Matt standing at the end of the hallway, shoulders slumped and head down, you knew something was wrong.

“Matty, baby,” you hummed, brows furrowing in concern as you walked up to him. “What happened?”

“Got a little banged up,” he mumbled. You cupped your hand around his jaw and moved his head so you could get a close look at the cut above his eyebrow. A small white Band-Aid was overing it, but a few drops of blood had already seeped through it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you wrapped your arms around his waist, expecting him to push you away like he always did when he was injured. But instead he melted into you, letting his head droop to your shoulder and his hands resting lightly on your hips. You knew the injury was bothering him.

“You’re really warm,” he said, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“Come on, baby,” you took his hand and pulled him down the hallway to your bedroom. He followed like a puppy dog. You sat him down on the edge of the bed and went to retrieve the first-aid kit from where you’d stashed it under the sink.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he watched you open it and pull out a package of Band-Aids.

“Changing that Band-Aid,” you answered, flicking your eyes up to his cut. “There’s blood coming through it, if you keep it on it’ll get infected.”

Matt pouted up at you.

“Quit being such a baby and let me put a new Band-Aid on your face,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Matt smirked and kept his eyes on you as you carefully peeled off the white Band-Aid and replaced it with one of the new ones.

“All better?” he asked.

“All better,” you nodded and placed a gentle kiss over the Band-Aid.

You turned around, ready to head back to the kitchen to finish making the mac n’ cheese you had started, when Matt’s hand latched around your wrist. You turned around, eyebrow raised in question.

“Can you- do you want to- please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone,” he muttered, hanging his head. Your heart panged. There must have been something more to his injuries acquired at practice that a cut over his eye.

“Did something else happen?” you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him.

“It’s nothing,” he tried shrugging it off. “I just took a puck to the knee, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

You watched as he pulled up the leg of the shorts he was wearing. An ugly purple bruise was starting to get darker.

“I’m gonna go get you an ice pack,” you said, leaving before he got the chance to protest. When you got back you found his curled up in bed, cuddling a pillow.

A smile shadowed your lips as you placed the ice pack on the bruise that was slowly forming on his left knee. The second Matt felt you near him he tossed aside the pillow and wrapped his arms around you instead.

Matty was usually like a porcupine when he was injured, never wanting people around him. You had no idea what caused this change in him but you liked it and you didn’t want it to go back to the way it was. He almost never let you play with his curls but now he was humming in contentment as you raked your fingers through his hair and twisted the curls around your fingers.

#matthew tkachuk x reader #nhl x reader #fluff #matthew tkachuk fluff #nhl fluff #one shot #matthew tkachuk one shot #nhl one shot #imagine #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #fanfiction #nhl fanfiction

330 notes · View notes

ilyasorokinn · 2 years

Text

running scared , matthew tkachuk

note, surprise shawty! this is part of demi's (@antoineroussel) winter fic exchange, so here is my piece. @hockeyshitandstuff this is for you! i really hope you enjoy this. this is work of fiction, everyone keep in mind i read a lot of romance novels, so i love a good cheesy storyline, even if they're stupid and make no sense. flashbacks in italics. another note, i'm making up random people within the media department just because i don't know anyone in within that department and i don't think anyone else does either. thanks :) pair, matthew tkachuk x reader summary, matthew and y/n were best friends since they were kids, but after a falling out in high school, they quickly became enemies. flash-forward a few years, they find themselves forced to work together when y/n gets a job working for the flames media. warnings, mentions of sex (but no smut), mentions of anxiety (but not many), alcohol consumption (all of legal age), a curse word word count, 3547 words (this is really long. wow)

(gif not mine)

Your relationship with Matthew Tkachuk was quite a doozy. You were best friends since childhood, but mid-high school was when things took a bad turn and you started to change.

You and Matthew got drunk one night and slept together. It was heat-of-the-moment, but unbeknownst to Matthew, you had the biggest crush on him, so when you woke up the next morning and found him gone, it hurt.

His siblings, who were more like family, knew of your undying love for their brother/son. So, after you stopped coming around, they questioned Matthew about it, to which he came up with some lie about you being busy.

*FLASHBACK*

"So, where's Y/N?" Chantel asked Matthew as the five of them sat at the dinner table, enjoying their meal.

Matthew set his cutlery down rather aggressively, causing everyone to flinch, "She's busy." He snapped, quickly coming up with a lie.

"Really? I saw her at school today, and she looked almost as miserable as you." Brady cut in, taking a sip of his milk.

"Shut up." Matthew glared.

"Matthew, stop." His mother scolded.

Matthew picked up his fork again and began shoving his mouth with food so he wouldn't have to answer any other questions. After his parents shared a look of concern, they moved on to a different topic.

The next morning at school, Brady spotted you at your locker and sprinted over to you. You jumped when he saw you standing next to you, "Um... hi." You smiled, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Hi." He smiled goofily, "So, we've all been wondering where you've been. You haven't been coming to Friday night dinner or Sunday movie nights. We've all been kind of worried." He told you.

"You're all worried? Really?" You raised a brow, then scoffed, slamming your locker shut.

"What? What happened?" Brady asked, following after you like a lost dog.

"Oh, Matthew didn't tell you?" At Brady's head shake, you laughed, "Of course, he didn't."

"What'd he do, Y/N?" Brady asked.

You looked around and noticed people were not paying attention, but you still grabbed his arm and pulled him down a hallway you knew wasn't busy.

"We slept together." Brady made a face of disgust, "Yeah, think whatever you want of it. But then I woke up the next morning and he was gone."

"What do you mean "gone"?" Brady asked, confused and concerned.

"What do you think I mean? He was gone! No letter, no text, no call, no email, no freakin' carrier pigeon!" You yelled.

"He left? Like in the middle of the night?"

"I don't know, Braeden. Go ask your brother. He's been dodging me since that night. He even asked for a new science partner."

"How long ago was this?"

You went silent, and looked down at the floor, which seemed a lot more interesting, "A month." You finally answered, but your voice was so quiet he almost couldn't hear you.

"A what?"

"A month." You repeated, louder and clearer. He stared at you in shock, "Look, I really gotta get to class." A lie.

"Right, right, of course." Brady nodded.

"I'll see you around." Another lie.

"Yeah, see you around." He nodded again, watching as you walked away and turned to the corner.

*FLASHBACK OVER*

After that day, you completely distanced yourself from the Tkachuk family. You stopped answering their calls, stop going over to their house, stopped any and all communication with them. Matthew made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. You got the message loud and clear, so you stayed away.

After high school, you moved away as fast as you could. You got accepted into a good college in New York, and moved, not even saying goodbye to the family who had practically been your second family.

After college, you moved out of New York after getting a job for the Calgary Flames. You knew it was a hockey town but had no idea who was on the team.

You woke up and your body was filled with anxiety. It was your first day and you were nervous. You got dressed like you would any other day, but internally were panicking and running through every possible worst-case scenario.

"You got this, you got this." You whispered to yourself as you looked over your appearance one last time.

You drove to the arena, swiped your new badge, and found your parking spot, "Ah, you must be the new recruit. Y/N, right?"

"That's me." You nodded, flashing the man a nervous smile.

"Well, the man you're looking for is right down this hallway."

"Thanks." You smiled, gripping the handle of your bag tighter as you walked down the hallway. You knocked on the door.

"Come in." You heard. You pushed the door open to reveal a man sitting at his desk, typing away at his computer, "Ah, Y/N." He smiled.

"Mr. Greene." You smiled.

"Please, have a seat." He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. You removed your purse and set it in your lap before taking a seat, "So, I see you found your way just fine."

"A little confusing, but there are signs everywhere." You joked.

"Well, we're all super glad to have you on the team." He smiled, "So, let's get started."

Within your first day, you were running all around the arena. You were introduced to the other people on the team, as well as coaches, other members of staff as well as players.

"I don't think I'm going to remember everyone." You laughed.

"It's all good. It will definitely take some time, but you'll get it." Another girl who you worked with, Leah, told you.

"Let's hope sooner rather than later." You smiled. She laughed along with you.

"Leah, there you are." You both turned around, and you felt every part of your body just give out on you, "Jacob said you wanted to talk."

"Oh, yeah. We just got a new recruit on the team and we're introducing her to everyone." Leah smiled, "Matthew, meet-"

"Y/N?"

"You two already know each other?" Leah asked.

"No, I've, uh, never met him before." You shook your head.

"But he knows your-"

"Lucky guess." You shrugged, not even sparing him another look as you walked away from him.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and before you knew it, you were coming up on your 6 month anniversary of working for the Flames media team.

You loved everything about it. You were doing the thing you loved in a city that you had grown to love. From the day you met her, Leah had basically taken you under her wing and taught you the ways of life. If it hadn't been for her, you probably wouldn't have any friends and would be spending every weekend alone in your apartment.

In the year you had been in Calgary, you had managed to avoid Matthew as much as possible and only talking to him when needed to.

Within those 5 months, you knew Matthew was attempting to try and talk to you, but every time he tried, you made up some excuse as to why you were busy or couldn't.

"So, a few of us are going out tonight and you're coming," Leah told you, leaving no room for question.

"What? What if I had plans?" You asked.

"Yeah, sitting at home alone eating ice cream with a ladle and watching old reruns of NCIS isn't classified as plans." She raised a brow.

"Yes, they are." You fought back.

"I'm picking you up at 7. You better be ready or I'm gonna beat you up." She threatened.

"Fine, fine." You raised your hands in surrender, "I'll be ready at 7." You nodded, "But you owe me wings."

"Deal." She nodded.

You watched Leah dance on the dance floor with the rest of your friend group. You were seated at the table you had "reserved" and nursed a beer instead of dancing.

"I see dancing still isn't something you like to do." You heard a voice from behind.

You rolled your eyes, "What do you want?" You asked.

"What I've been trying to do for months, I just want to talk," Matthew told you.

"And I guess you didn't pick up on the signs. I don't want to talk to you." You sent him a glare, then turned back to your friends.

"Come on." He whined. "This happened almost 10 years ago."

"No, yes I've moved on, but that doesn't mean that I forgive you. What you did that night, hurt, Matthew. And maybe it didn't hurt you, but it hurt me. I really don't get it. How you can go from being someone's best friend then just dumping them." You shook your head and looked around, noticing her were gathering a crowd.

"I'm not gonna talk about this with you right now, or ever for that matter. Just stay away from me." You grabbed your stuff and stormed out of the bar.

"Wait, just... wait!" Matthew shouted, running after you.

"No, I'm really not gonna talk about this with you. I'm done, Matthew. Just please, leave me alone." You begged, walking away from him, the same way he had that night in high school.

The next day on Monday, you could tell people were avoiding you, or at least the people who went out on Friday, "Hey..." Leah approached.

"It was a long time ago and I just want to forget about it." You told her before she could even formulate a question.

"All right." She nodded, "Do you have your report? Greene wants it on his desk like two days ago." You handed her the report and she made her way away from your desk.

"A delivery for one Miss Y/L/N." Another intern, your friend Kevin, approached your desk with a bouquet of gorgeous flowers and a box of chocolates.

"Who's it from?" You asked, confused as you reached for the card. You read it, and sighed, "Nevermind." You shook your head.

"Where do you want them?" Kevin asked.

"The trash."

"What? They're gorgeous. Who are they from?" He asked, reaching for the card.

"Yeah, but I'm allergic." You told him, "You can keep the chocolate if you want."

"Ooh." He winced, "I'll get rid of these then, but I will definitely be keeping the chocolate." He smiled, rushing off to get rid of the flowers.

You sighed, sitting back down at your desk and attempting to get back to work, "You're not allergic to flowers." Matthew noted, walking up to your desk.

"What part of "leave me alone" do you not understand?" You asked, letting out a heavy sigh in annoyance.

"Nothing." He smirked.

"I'm serious, Matthew. Just leave me alone." You told him, pushing your chair out and storming away.

You were prepping dinner for yourself when your phone rang, "Hello?"

"Matthew called." Your mother told you, not even saying hello back.

"Hello to you, too, mom." You sighed.

"He told us you haven't been talking to him." Your mother scolded. You never told your parents about what Matthew had done. They knew it was some boy at your school, but you left out the part about who it was, so to them, Matthew was still your childhood best friend, the kid that you would build sandcastles with and do science projects together.

"Mom..."

"No, I want you to talk to him. He sounded really upset on the phone." Your mother told you.

"Mom, would you just listen?"

"No." She cut you off, "Talk to him, Y/N." She told you, then hung up.

"I just love these talks, mom." You joked, even though she had already hung up.

You stormed into the office the next day on a mission, "You called my mom?" You asked, storming up to Matthew who was getting ready to get onto the ice.

"Well, yeah, you wouldn't talk to me." He shrugged.

"That's below the belt, Matthew. Dragging my mother into this?"

"It got you to talk to me." He shrugged again.

"God, you are so infuriating." You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair in anger, "You wanna talk? Let's talk. We slept together. Great! Totally fine. Then I wake up the next morning, and you're gone."

"I had something I needed to take care of." He answered.

"And you don't call to tell me that?"

"My phone was dead."

"For a month? Your phone was dead for a month? And even then, it's not like we didn't see each other at school. You asked to change lab partners. Stop making excuses and just tell me the truth. Why did you really leave that day?"

"I was scared, okay? We were best friends, and us sleeping together changed everything." He told you, finally being honest.

"Why didn't you just tell me that? You've had almost 8 years to tell me that."

"I was scared you wouldn't talk to me. It took you 6 months to finally talk to me." He pointed out.

"God, if you had just come to tell me that, I would've listened." You told him, a sad look in your eyes.

"Would you?" He asked.

"Yes, I would've." You nodded.

"So, let me get this straight." Leah rubbed her temples as you explained the happenings of your's and Matthew's tumultuous relationship, "So, you guys were best friends as kids, then when you were a junior and him a senior, you slept together and when you woke up, he was gone?"

"Yup." You nodded, downing the rest of the wine in your glass.

"Huh." She nodded, "And I thought my love life was complicated." She chuckled, "Did he tell you why he dipped?"

"Said he was scared." You looked down at the empty wine glass in your hands.

"That's such a guy answer." She rolled her eyes, "I hate guys."

"Me too." You hummed.

You were downloading photos from a photographer's camera to upload onto Instagram when a box of your favorite chocolates was placed in front of your face.

You looked up, and when you saw who it was, you pushed his hands out of your face and attempted to get back to work, "Look, let me say my piece, and when I'm done, I'll leave you alone. For good." Matthew pleaded.

You sighed, contemplating your options, but finally looking up at him, "Five minutes." You started a timer on your watch.

"All right, I know what I did really hurt you that night, because, in the process of hurting you, I was hurting myself, too." You raised a brow, "Come on, you don't really think all your feelings were one-sided, did you?"

"I mean..."

"Nope, let me finish." He cut you off, "I was scared because, at the time, I wasn't sure if you felt the same way." He told you honestly. You would tell he was being serious and telling the honest truth just by looking in his eyes. Even as kids, his eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Four minutes." You announced.

"I'm not even asking for another chance because I knew I blew it. I'm just asking for you to hear my side of the story before you decide anything."

"And what's your side of the story, Matty?" You asked, the old nickname slipping from your tongue before you could stop it.

At the use of his old nickname, a big beaming smile found its way onto his face, "My side of the story is that I loved you with my entire heart and soul and I was a scared 18-year old kid who was about to move away to Calgary."

"I was scared you didn't feel the same way, and I was scared if we did ever go anywhere, we would become one of those couples in those movies we used to watch together. You know? The ones who would try long distance but would just fall apart after 3 months."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." You nodded, feeling the shell you had built around your heart all those years ago begin to crack and chip away.

"And I didn't want to ruin what we had, but I guess in the end, I ended up ruining things anyways." He looked upset and defeated.

"Do you still feel the same way?" You asked.

"Do I still love you?" You nodded, "Of course, I do."

Ever since your conversation with Matthew, it had been running through your mind 24/7. 'Do I still love you?' 'Of course, I do'

"Gosh, darn it!" You cursed as you spilled a cup of water on yourself.

"You all right?" Leah asked, having heard your accident as she walked past the breakroom.

"Oh, yeah, just a little distracted." You smiled, grabbing a few paper towels and attempting to clean off the water.

"Is it Matthew?" She asked.

"How'd you guess?" You sighed, dropping your head in defeat.

"What'd he do this time?" She asked.

"He finally told me the truth about why he left."

"And?"

"Then he confessed his love for me." You whispered.

"What?!"

"Keep it down." You told her, reaching over and covering her mouth.

"What did you say?" She asked.

"Nothing. I was too stunned, so he walked away."

"Well, what're you doing here? Go talk to him." Leah encouraged.

"No, I can't." You shook your head.

"Why not?" Leah asked.

"I just can't." You shook your head, grabbed your mug, which was now filled with more water, and left the breakroom.

Leah was getting tired of watching you mope around, so she decided to play cupid a little and decided to talk to Matthew herself. Once practice was over, she set her plan into motion and dragged Matthew away before he could make it to the locker room door.

"What? Leah, what are you-"

"You need to do something." She cut him off.

"Do something where?" He asked.

"With Y/N! She's miserable." Leah told him.

"I can't. I told her I would leave her alone." Matthew shook his head, making the move to walk away.

"I don't care. She might've put on the front and said she was fine and wanted you to leave her alone, but she's miserable. Your love confession sent her over the edge."

"Leah, I can't." He shook his head.

"Are you not listening to me?" Leah shouted, catching the attention of a few players who were walking past them, "She's in love with you!" She practically shouted.

That knocked the breath out of him, "She's in love with me?" He asked, almost breathlessly.

"Yes, you idiot!" She hit him in the side of the head, softly.

"Well, I-I, where is she?" Matthew stuttered.

"She's getting ready to leave. go get your girl, dude. and I'd go fast. She took next week off." Leah pushed him in the direction of the elevators towards the parking garage. It didn't matter that he was still in his practice gear, he would run to the ends of the world if it meant getting to spend a moment with you.

He anxiously bounced his foot as the elevator went down. Once the door opened, he turned in every which direction trying to find you. He finally spotted you, putting stuff into your trunk.

"Y/N!" He shouted.

"Matthew?" You asked, confused. He ran over to you as he could considering he was still wearing skates, "What're you doing?"

"I love you." He blurted out, which shut you up. You knew he did, but hearing him say the words just solidified everything in your brain, "And I know you love me."

"What? I-"

"I know you do. Don't try to deny it." He shook his head.

"Get to the point of whatever this is then." You crossed your arms.

"I love you, and I'll spend every day for the rest of my life loving you. That's a fact and it's something I know is true." Your eyes began to water at the love in his eyes and the tone of his voice, "I know I fucked up, but I was a dumb kid who made a dumb decision. I know it hurt you, and I'm going to make up for it every day of my life."

"What're you trying to say?" You asked.

"I'm saying I want to be with you. I want to try this thing out." He told you.

"Are you being serious? Like, you're not playing around?" You asked, looking at him in his eyes.

"I'm being serious. Not playing around." He nodded. You continued to look into his eyes, the key to tell you if he was telling the truth.

"All right, let's give it a try." You nodded, watching his face light up.

"Really?"

"Really." You nodded, smiling at his reaction. Before you could even get another word out, Matthew was surging forward and picking you up, spinning you around, "Whoa, whoa!" You held onto him tighter.

"Right, sorry. Skates." He nodded, setting you back on the ground.

Once you were on the ground, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, "If you pull something like you did in high school, you're gonna be out for the next season." You threatened.

"I promise I won't do that again." The look in his eyes, once again, told you he was telling the truth.

my taglist: @barzysreputation @bords @thombordeleau @puckinrightschicagoo @tysonjost-taylorsversion @Besthockeyfics @boqvistsbabe @joshsandersons @stars-canucks @mitch-slap @punkharts @josthours @iwantahockeyhimbo @blondiekook @2manytabsopen @lady-laura-speaks @youngbeezer @maximoff-xmen @ghostyjosty @heatherawoowoo @hockeyunits @rosesvioletshardy @thescooby-gang @123happyllama @mattyskies @ggggmoneyyyy @voidohanax @4ambagelbites @lovethepreds @colecauliflower @ciziikas @monamourthings-blog @x-a-v20x @satanxklaus @himbobimboeater @Pasta88love @paintlavillered @itssophlouise @lam-ila @HockeyJedi13 @barzysandhughesbaby @kidlnthedark @tkachukitout @drysdaleseyes @jostyriggslover96 @liz-69 @duhaimes @kermits-fat-cock @drei-mrssvechii @shinytoadpandadeputy @rainysuitcaseprunegiant @nicohishcier @sebbyaho @kpopnationunited424 @tpwkstiles @raysofcrosby

add yourself to my taglist!

again, i hope you, @hockeyshitandstuff, enjoyed it. and another huge thank you to demi for putting this together!!

349 notes · View notes

extratragic · 3 years

Text

four times you sat in Matthew’s chair + the one time they called him out

warning: none

summary: like keith, matthew has a chair in the house that no one is allowed to sit in, but he never has a problem with you sitting there.

word count: 2.6k

Everyone knew that Keith’s chair was not to be sat in. Don’t sit in the chair, and don’t touch the remote. Everyone but Chantal avoided the chair when Keith was home, and you’d been around for so long that it didn’t even feel like a rule anymore. It was just natural to let Keith or Chantal pick what to watch while everyone got comfortable on the couch or another chair.

It wasn’t a shock to anyone that Matthew bought his own chair at the beginning of one off season, and he had the same rule as his dad. He just couldn’t scare people like Keith did. If Taryn or Brady sat there, it typically ended with them wrestling. When you sat there, though, Matthew didn’t say a word.

The first time it happened, you had no clue why everyone was so shocked. You were just sitting in a chair, watching TV with the Tkachuk family. Matthew was in the kitchen, getting snacks for the two of you.

"Get up for a sec?" Matthew mumbled, leaning down so his face was beside yours.

You nodded and stood up, watching as he sat down in the recliner, then snorted when he pulled you down. He hummed softly and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you on his lap.

"Really?" You asked, looking back at him with a smile on your face.

He smiled and nodded, pulling you back so your back was against his chest. You smiled softly and got comfortable on his lap, eventually adjusting enough to lay your head on his chest.

When you looked around, you saw Taryn and Brady staring at you with wide eyes and slack jaws. Chantal and Keith were smiling and shaking their heads, talking quietly to each other and looking at each other instead of you and Matt when they saw you glance at them.

"Why are your siblings looking at me like I just told them I'm pregnant?" You whispered.

Matt looked over at them and rolled his eyes, tightening his arms around your waist. "Dunno. Ignore 'em.”

You nodded slowly, putting your attention back on the television and ignoring the stares of the younger Tkachuk's.

The second time it happened, you were crying too much for anyone to even question it.

"I just- I trusted him, Matty," you said weakly.

"I know, y/n/n. I know you did," he sighed, rubbing your back.

Your boyfriend of almost a year was cheating on you. Both Matthew and Brady suspected it, especially since your boyfriend had been acting strange around them since they’d gotten home for the off season. When Matthew asked you about it, you told him that your boyfriend was just stressed about working more often. Then, Brady saw your asshole boyfriend at a bar two months before when he knew that your boyfriend was supposed to be with you. Brady didn't tell you, though. He FaceTimed you that night and ask why you were alone when he saw that you were on your couch. That's when Brady had his first suspicion and told Matt.

After that, Matthew seemed to notice everything that your boyfriend did that didn't make sense. Neither of them brought it up to you, though. If there really was nothing going on and your boyfriend was just an idiot, they didn't want to hurt you.

But you found out on your own when you saw a necklace that wasn't yours on his nightstand, and then you saw a text on his phone from a girl you went to high school with, telling him that she left the necklace on purpose so 'they could fuck again before he put it on her.' In the moment, you were actually disappointed in the girl, because the text did seem desperate to you. That feeling faded as soon as it appeared, anger and sadness quickly replacing it.

So, you ended up in the Tkachuk home after confronting your now ex, not even bothering to knock before walking inside.

Matthew and Brady were in the kitchen and Brady was the one to see who walked in, calling for Matthew as soon as he saw your tears. He pulled you into a hug, but it only lasted a few seconds before Matt was pulling you to his chest and bringing you to his chair. Neither of them questioned you and you eventually told them what happened. Matt was pissed, but he didn’t think for a second about leaving you. Taryn was ready to chirp him when she saw you sitting on his lap, but the words died on her tongue when she saw how your body was shaking.

It didn’t stop Taryn or Brady from chirping Matthew as soon as you fell asleep, though.

III

The third time it happened, Brady and Taryn didn’t openly stare at you like they did the first time. They just joked quietly with each other on the couch across from the chair.

Both you and Matt knew that they were talking about the two of you because they kept looking over at you two and snickering every five minutes.

Matt told you to ignore them, chalking it up to them talking about him, not you. You went along with it and stayed curled up into his side with your head on his shoulder. A movie that Keith and Chantal picked was playing on the TV, but you weren't paying much attention.

Matt was whispering to you, talking about how much the team missed seeing you. He was leaving in two weeks and said that Johnny and Noah wouldn't shut up about him bringing you to Calgary, at least for a few days. David Rittich even texted him, telling him that his wife was begging him to bring you so she could take you out for brunch. You were giggling quietly as he told you how Johnny just wanted you there so he could take you out for dinner and show you how bad Matt had been treating you.

"Johnny wants to take me on a date? Hold on, let me tell him I'm on my way," you joked, reaching for your phone.

Matt glared at you and slapped your wrist when you opened your text messages.

"Hey, quit that," he whined childishly.

You grinned widely and looked up at him, seeing him pouting. Since you knew your way around your phone without having to look at it, you were able to open up Snapchat and start recording him.

"Pouty Matty today, huh?" You teased, holding the phone up enough so his face was visible.

You thought his pout was adorably funny, but he didn’t like it when you tried catching it on camera. His pout dropped and he rolled his eyes. You snickered and flipped the camera to the back, zooming in on Taryn and Brady, who were now looking at the two of you.

"Can I help you?" You asked.

"You can help Matthew get a better personality,” Taryn said, making you laugh quietly and end the video.

Brady smirked at his brother before looking at you. "Looks like she’s already doing it. He’s smiling while sharing his chair," Brady teased. Matthew groaned and squeezed your hip.

"Matty's chairs are my chairs," you replied easily.

IIII

The fourth time, you were so used to Taryn staring that you didn't even notice anymore. The Senators were in Winnipeg, so Brady wasn't there that night. The Flames played the Blues that day, though, so Matthew was home.

He got hit hard multiple times, something that always seemed worse to you when you saw it in person, so you were babying him. He didn’t get into any fights, thankfully. You hated those more than him getting hit.

"Need ice? Heating pad?" You asked, rubbing his shoulders.

"Nothin' at all. Just wanna lay like this,” he mumbled.

'Like this' was his back against your chest and his head on your shoulder. The footrest was up and Matt was laying between your legs, some of his legs hanging off because he was so tall. You'd been rubbing his shoulders and trailing your hands down his arms to his wrists, then back to his shoulders. There were a few times where your hands would move to his chest and he would hum and try to move closer to you, making you giggle.

Neither of you noticed Taryn recording the interaction.

"Your hair's getting long, Matty," you commented. You loved his curls, but you wished that he’d consistently take better care of them.

"I'm planning on cutting it after the season ends, don't worry," he said.

Your eyes widened and you moved your head so he could see you looking at him. "Don't do anything crazy," you said quickly.

He chuckled and nodded, smiling softly.

Chantal walked in and you smiled at her before looking at Matt when he started talking again. She looked at her daughter who was smirking at the two of you.

She watched her oldest child grab your hands and lace your fingers together, laying them on his chest. You placed a kiss on the crown of his head and he closed his eyes, smiling contently. Chantal always loved seeing how Matthew acted around you. When the two of you were younger, it was definitely more of a sibling relationship. Protective, rough, playful, loving. Matthew treated you like you were part of the family.

Now, though, the relationship was very clearly, to Chantal, a romantic one. Even though the two of you wouldn't dare admit it, she could see the love in both of your eyes when you two looked at each other.

She could see how you watched Matthew when he played. The way you were constantly worried when he would chirp an opposing player, and how you would quickly stand up to see over the people in front of you and worry your bottom lip when he fought. She noticed how bright your smile was when Matthew scored and how loudly you cheered. They all noticed how happy you were to run into his arms after waiting for him to come out of the locker room after a game.

She noticed how Matthew fondly watched and attentively listened when you were speaking. How he held you tightly in every hug. How he pulled you closer to him when he felt that you were too far away. He would put everything he could into anything celebrating you. Ever since he turned 16, he would get you a gift that he knew you wanted but would never ask for because it would cost so much money. He would spend weeks begging Chantal and Keith to help him pay for it. He never failed to make you feel like the princess, or even queen, on your birthday, or just a day that was special for you.

She knew her son, and she knew that he was in love with his best friend.

"Alright, what the hell?" You asked.

Taryn, Brady, Johnny, and Noah looked at you with wide eyes, not expecting you to call them out. They had been staring at you and Matt for the last twenty minutes, whispering to each other and glancing at you two repeatedly. At first, you didn’t understand why three grown hockey players were squeezed on the couch with Taryn until they started gossiping with each other ten minutes into the movie Matt put on. Chantal and Keith were having a date night, so Matt finally got to pick what everyone watched.

"What?" Matt asked, looking away from the TV.

"Is there something on my face? Every time I'm here, I feel like there's something on my face 'cause you guys are always looking at me,” you whined.

Matt sighed and shot a quick glare at the four on the couch before looking at you again. "No, y/n/n, there's nothing on your face. You look fine," he told you.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the four, waiting for an explanation.

"You're always in his chair! And he doesn't complain!" Taryn exclaimed.

Brady groaned and practically threw himself back against the back of the couch.

"I- what?" You asked.

"Matt's chair. He never let us sit there. He still doesn't let us sit there. He throws a damn fit every time we sit down in his stupid chair. But every single time you sit there, it's fine!" Brady explained.

You looked at Matt and he sighed again, shaking his head. "You two are being dramatic," he told his siblings.

"Actually, I don't think so. You're kind of a dramatic person, and if we know you as well as I know that we do, you would throw a fit if anyone sat in your chair. But you actually pulled her onto it," Noah said.

"You... huh? What is the big deal about me sitting in a damn chair?" You asked.

"The big deal is that if you were anyone else, you'd get thrown to the ground for sitting there. But it's like it's your chair, too," Johnny said.

"'Cause Matt's in love with you," Taryn said.

Everyone's eyes went wide and Brady slapped his sister’s arm. Noah put his fingers over his mouth, trying to conceal his laughter, but his smile was clear and it was growing by the second. Johnny had a wide grin on his face as he looked at Matt, not bothering to hide it. Taryn looked shocked that she even blurted that sentence.

You looked at Matt, seeing him blushing and looking at the floor.

"Matt's not in love with me," you said, furrowing your eyebrows and shaking your head. It hurt you to say that. Even though you had strong feelings for Matt since you were 15, it felt impossible for him to feel the same way about you.

"Bull shit," Johnny scoffed.

"He talks about you all the time," Noah said.

"Shut up," Matt told them. You looked at him, seeing him glaring at his teammates.

"I think we should go," Brady said, standing up. He motioned for the other three to stand up and, reluctantly, they left the room.

"Matty," you said softly, putting your hand on his shoulder.

Neither of you spoke for a minute before he sighed heavily. His eyes never left the floor.

"Well, I guess you already know,” he muttered.

"Know what, Matthew? That your friends and siblings are telling me you love me?" You scoffed.

He looked up at you and your heart squeezed when you saw the look in his eyes. You’d seen Matthew go through almost every emotion in the book, but you’d never seen him look at you like that. It was soft, and also scared.

"I do, dummy," he said.

“You don’t love me,” you said, your voice quieter than you expected it to be.

Matt huffed out a breath through his nose and shook his head. “I mean, I don’t think I’m in love with you, but I’m pretty damn sure that I’ve loved you since I was 16, y/n,” he said.

When you didn’t respond, he took in a deep breath. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. It... This doesn’t have to change anything. You’ll always be my best friend,” he told you.

"What if I told you that I do feel the same?" You asked.

"Then I'd kiss you. You know, if you wanted me to," he said, smiling shyly.

You bit your bottom lip and smiled, moving your hand up to the back of his neck. His curls brushed against your fingers and you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He let you properly take care of his hair the night before, so the curls were softer than usual.

"I feel the same, Matty. I have since I was 15," you grinned, making him grin widely.

"So I can kiss you?" He asked giddily, his pretty blue eyes looking into your eyes.

You laughed and nodded and he wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #calgary flames

1K notes · View notes

hockeyshitandstuff · 3 years

Note

Hi, I think I’ll stick to Matthew Tkachuk for this one too as I don’t know many other nhl players where his girlfriend limits her interaction with him for days and won’t FaceTime or call him as she is feeling emotionally exhausted from work/uni and doesn’t want her mood to affect his as he is winning his games. He comes back home a few days later and goes straight to her apartment as he wants to know why she’s been avoiding him. He lets himself in only to find her sleeping at her desk. He wakes her up and hugs her before taking her to her bed to cuddle with her rubbing her back/hands through her hand with hair kisses. Thanks 😊

I love this! Thanks for requesting <3

word count: 1011 words

I got a request to write another part to this story, here it is

TW: maybe language, just fluff

You were so freaking exhausted you wanted to cry. Last week you thought it would go away, that transfering to university in Calgary was the only thing hard about it. But since then, you had to study more and more.

At first, you felt guilty about not having the time to FaceTime with Matt for hours and hours since he went away. And when you finally called and told him how hard all of this was - the trasfering, new people, all the work you had to do - he played so bad that day, probably thinking about how it was his fault because he was the only reason why you moved to Calgary.

So you figured out that if you'd avoid him, he wouldn't feel affected by anything that happens in your life. It worked too well; Matthew had no time to deal with your problems and was winning all his games. Yes, you always texted him how good he played and how proud of him are you but other than that, there was this awful silence that you caused.

On the rare occasions when Matt had free time, he called to check on you. You always found a new excuse that somehow still worked, pretending to have a big exam the day after or just being too tired. But those weren’t really excuses - not when you felt so exhausted from all that work, trying so hard not to mess things up.

“You played amazing today, babe!” you said as Matt picked up the phone after a game in which he scored two goals and assisted on another one. It was so sad that you had to fake the excitement from the win, too. You tried watching it, really, but whenever you looked at the screen you spaced out, thinking about how you were wasting your precious time on watching TV instead of studying. But as you heard the words ‘Matthew Tkachuk’ you focused again, watching your boyfriend skate over the ice or fight with someone.

“Yeah, thanks Y/N/N. Do you want to FaceTime? I have about an hour of free time so...” You thought about saying yes - just as you remembered how bad you looked at the moment. You haven’t slept that day and the dark bags under your eyes showed it.

“I’m so sorry, Matty, but I promised my friend to go out with her tonight.” you lied, feeling more guilty than ever before. All the lies before were at least partly true, but this...

“Okay. I’ll be back in two days, remember? I love you.” The way he said it was... odd. Something was off and you both knew it. It took you a few deep breaths to reply without crying:

“I love you too.”

...

Matthew was finally coming home - and he was terrified.

He knew you were lying and it hurt him to even think about the posibility of you finding someone else to replace him. Maybe Matt deserved it; it was his idea to ask you to move in with him. And since you did so, he was out of town for nearly two weeks, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. It wasn’t fair.

You didn’t pick him up at the airport. You didn’t answer his calls. One of Matthew’s teammates had to drive him home. Slowly, he started panicking.

There was noone who asnwered his knocking on the door to your apartment so he had to fish the keys out of his pocket before letting himself in. Only silence welcomed him back home.

“Y/N?”

You were sitting at his desk that was covered with multiple papers and notebooks, empty coffee mugs and well, just mess. You looked like one, too - your hair was unbrushed, your t-shirt - one of his own, he realized - had some coffee stains on it and bellow your closed eyes were dark bags. This was probably the first time in a while that you were sleeping.

In that moment, Matthew felt like an idiot for even thinking of you cheating on him. This isn’t some random girl, he reminded himself, this is Y/N and she left her country just to be with me. If that wasn’t love, he had no idea what was.

Of course there was a lot you had to endure as you changed schools. But why didn’t you just tell him?

“Y/N,” he finally said, feeling bad for having to wake you up. Your eyes opened and you gazed at the figure in front of you, realizing one important thing: Matty was home. He was home and you forgot to pick him up at the airport.

“I’m so sorry, Matt.” you mumbled, nearly crying.

“For what, babe?”

“I forgot to pick you up,” Then you started sobbing. He pulled you to his chest, gently rubbing circles on your back and whispering something calming into your ear.

“No, no, no, that’s alright, don’t be sorry for that,”

With a kiss on your head, Matthew picked you up from the chair and carried you to the bedroom. He took off of you the dirty t-shirt and replaced it with another one of his, the amazing smell of it making you relax even more.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, hugging his torso as he tucked the both of you under the cover. “I missed you so much that I sometimes couldn’t think about anything else. I missed you so much it hurt.”

“Then why all the lying? Why all the excuses?” He sounded so vulnerable in that moment.

“Because the one time I told you about how bad this all was, you played like shit. And you did so well all the time so I figured it was my fault. I thought- I thought that if I’d avoid you, you wouldn’t worry about me.”

“What a nonsense,” Matthew said, rubbing your back with his warm hands. “I always worry about you.”

He meant it. You knew he meant it. And so you kissed him with your eyes already heavy, sleeping better than ever.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #matty tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk oneshot #matthew tkachuk fluff #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl one shot #nhl fic #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine fluff #Hockey Players #hockey fic #hockey

378 notes · View notes

typical-simplelove · 2 years

Text

Rewrite the Stars (M. Tkachuk)

Author's Note: Based on the song from the Greatest Showman, this is for the lovely @ya-pucking-nerd for @antoineroussel's Winter Fic Exchange. I truly hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it. Enjoy!

Summary: When you get a new job outside of Calgary, it seems like the best move for you, but when a confession of love is revealed, you can't but wish if you could rewrite the way things are meant to be.

Warnings: gender-neutral!reader; angst but resolved; pain; tears; feelings of heartbreak; alcohol; a few curse words

Word Count: 4.4k (including song lyrics)

You know I want you It's not a secret I try to hide I know you want me So don't keep saying our hands are tied You claim it's not in the cards But fate is pulling you miles away And out of reach from me But you're here in my heart So who can stop me if I decide That you're my destiny?

The noun definition of longing is “a yearning desire”. As an adjective, longing is defined as “having or showing a yearning desire.” On the other hand, the verb definition is “having a strong wish or desire.” It doesn’t matter what definition one uses, longing is the only word anyone will ever use to describe how Matthew feels. The sun rises and shines through his apartment, and Matthew has one singular thought on his mind, one person. He gets his coffee each morning and wants coffee with one singular person. He goes through the motions each day and everything revolves around the one person in his head. The sun sets, and he closes his eyes, and that one person is the last one he sees.

It only sucks, though, that he doesn’t really have you.

It was a Sunday afternoon tradition that you and Matthew would order takeout and just hang out. Sometimes, you’d play board games, watch movies, jam out to Taylor Swift (much to Matthew’s dismay), or catch up about your weeks. This Sunday was no exception. Matthew showed up at your apartment with takeout from your favorite sushi restaurant.

When you opened the door, Matthew noticed you had a somber expression on your face. It was slight, but with one look at you, Matthew that today’s Sunday tradition was going to be a bit different. He knew you. He knew you so well to the point that even if you could pretend you were happy as can be, he could tell when you weren’t. He wasn’t going to push you, though. He knew you had a mission for this afternoon’s lunch, and Matthew wasn’t going to be the one who diverted you from that path.

Matthew places the food on your counter and begins to pull everything out of the bag as you grab plates.

“I picked up soy sauce and chopsticks from the restaurant,” Matthew announces. It was the first thing either of you have said to each other all day.

“Mm, great,” you reply, somber, and not with much enthusiasm.

He hates this. He hates how quiet and somber you are. He hates how your outward demeanor is sad and muffled. He wants to pull you into a hug and hold you close to comfort you. As much as Matthew wants to poke and prod you for information, he knows that he can’t do that. You’re not going to admit and explain what’s bothering you if Matthew prods you too much or before you’re ready. “Movie?” is what Matthew asks after you both have laid out the food on the placemats on the coffee table.

“Yeah, you pick,” you answer. You took a shaky breath as you sat and sipped your green tea. Matthew knows the tea is hot because he burnt his tongue seconds ago before you sipped yours. It’s really hot, but when you don’t wince at the pain, Matthew knows you’re numb and holding something in.

You never let Matthew pick the movie. Whenever you both decided to watch a movie, you’d present Matthew with a choice of two movies, and you’d “force” Matthew pick the movie you wanted. It was never Matthew’s choice, and when it was, something was wrong, very wrong. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Of course; why do you ask?” you answer unconvincingly.

“You seem quiet, you’re less enthusiastic than normal, and you’re not acting like yourself. I’m worried about you.”

You look down at the plate in your hands. Matthew can tell you’re contemplating something, something big, and it’s eating you up inside. All he wants to do is take it away and make you feel better. “I’m moving.”

Matthew can’t be hearing you right. “What?”

“I got a new job, and I’m moving,” you murmur. “It’s a great opportunity and everything, but it sucks that I have to leave. I’m not ready to leave my family or my home or you.”

“Oh, I’m flattered,” Matthew jokes to try to lighten the mood. It puts a small smile on your face, so Matthew feels he succeeded partially.

“All I wish is that this opportunity would be here in Calgary, so I wouldn’t have to move.”

Matthew takes your plate and his and places it on the coffee table. He scoots over to you and wraps his arms around you. He holds you close as he says, “sometimes, we need to move on from certain places and people to live to our fullest potential. Sometimes, that means that it will come with heartbreak and pain. It might hurt, but you have to know that those places and people will always be there for you if you want to return.”

“When did you turn into a philosopher, Mr. Tkachuk?”

“When my best friend is in need of some wise words, I tell them what wise ole Mama Tkachuk said.”

You burst into laughter. “I’m going to tell your mom that you called her that.”

“No, please don’t,” Matthew immediately rushes out. “Are you feeling any better?”

You nod. “A little. You know, I always thought that you’d be the one to leave and move on to better things, not me.”

“Well, then I’d be bringing you with me.”

“And why would you think I’d go with you?”

“You mean to tell me you wouldn’t follow your best friend around the world?” Matthew asks with shock in his voice.

“You said it not me,” you tease. Matthew just shakes his head.

“Movie now? I was thinking we could start the Matrix movies,” he tells you as he reaches for the remote.

“Nope,” you answer and reach for the remote quicker. “I want to watch The Princess Diaries.”

“If you say so,” Matthew responds with his familiar smile. That was the you Matthew knows. He never thought he’d live in Calgary without you. You were the one who helped make the city feel more like home. With you not there, Matthew knows that he’ll be okay, but his heart? He doesn’t know how his heart could possibly move forward. He loves you, and all he wants is to love you.

As you and Matthew sat there, cuddled on your couch, eating sushi and watching a movie, the only thing Matthew could wonder was if this was the last time he had you by his side.

What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine Nothing could keep us apart You'd be the one I was meant to find It's up to you And it's up to me No one can say what we get to be So why don't we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours Tonight

“I brought some takeout with forks and plates,” Matthew announces as he steps into your apartment. “I figured all your kitchen appliances and utensils were packed up.”

“You thought right,” you answer as you take the bag and begin to take out the food. “It feels too weird but so real at the same time, you know?”

“Well, I know that regardless of how weird it feels, you’re going to do great,” Matthew answers, somberly. Now, it was his turn to feel upset at the state of your friendship. Seeing all the boxes piled up in your apartment made it real. You were truly leaving, and Matthew wasn’t going to have his best friend living a few blocks down.

You seemed to have noticed that Matthew was acting strangely, but knowing Matthew, you know that you can’t force him to open up to you unless he was ready. You don’t say anything as you begin to eat the curry Matthew brought. “What do you say, one last movie?”

Those final three words seemed to send Matthew into a dangerous spiral he didn’t want to admit. You could see it in the way his eyes clouded over with darkness and his posture slumped. Something was bothering him. Something that you knew would eat him up inside unless you helped him figure out what the issue was.

“So, no movie? I’ll even let you pick.”

“Not one of those rom-com movies, please,” Matthew begs. “I don’t think I can take a love story tonight.”

“I did say you could be the one to pick the movie.”

“No, you pick, just no love story, please.”

“Why no love story?” you ponder.

“I don’t really want to watch someone else fall in love and get married when I can’t have that,” Matthew admits.

“Wait, who’s breaking your heart?” you question with shock.

Matthew gives you a longing look. It sends heat into the pit of your stomach as you meet Matthew’s striking gaze. You instantly know it’s you who’s breaking his heart; you don’t want to be the one to do that. “Matthew,” you whisper.

“I know I shouldn’t be putting this on you, especially with you moving and all and leaving, but I love you,” Matthew explains. “I’ve loved you for years, and I’m not forcing you into anything. As happy as I am that you have this opportunity, I want you to stay because I want you here with me. I probably should have told you all this years ago, but, I don’t know, I wasn’t ready. I thought I had time to be ready to tell you and be in a relationship with you, but then you get this—which isn’t your fault, I’m not blaming you for anything—job opportunity that’s taking you out of the city. I love you, and I want what’s best for you.”

“You know I love you,” you tell him. “More than you could ever know. I, uh, I thought the same thing, too, but then I got this new job. I’m sorry, Matthew. I can’t stay here in Calgary. As much as I love you, I can’t.”

He nods. “I know. Believe me, I know, and I’m not expecting you to stay, but when I tell you it hurts like hell to see you leave, I’d be understating it.”

Both of you don’t say anything as you look away from each other and down at your food. How do you move on from here? How do you continue to be in each other’s lives without the truth contaminating your friendship? What changes, and how much does it change?

“Matthew,” you say as you take a step towards him. You place your hand on top of his, and he looks up in response. “I’m really sorry. I so badly want this with you, but I can’t. I need to go, and I need to grow in my life professionally.”

“I know, and I’m not going to make you or force you to stay,” Matthew tells you. “Whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you and love you all the same.”

“I love you, Matthew.”

“I love you, too,” he answers and pulls you into a hug.

Right people, the wrong time it seemed.

You think it's easy You think I don't wanna run to you But there are mountains And there are doors that we can't walk through I know you're wondering why Because we're able to be Just you and me Within these walls But when we go outside You're gonna wake up And see that it was hopeless after all

“So, this is it, huh?” Matthew tells you as he’s helping you pack the remainder of your belongings. All you have left are the books on your bookshelf in your living room. He was handing you books as you placed and organized the remainder of the books into the boxes.

“I’ve still got a few more shelves, but I guess so.”

“You know what I meant,” Matthew says with a lightness in his voice, a lightness that you’re both struggling to keep up. “Do we have to deconstruct the shelves, too?”

“No, Elias and Annica want the shelves for their guestroom which saves us a ton of work.”

“It would have been a full circle for us to put the shelf together when you first moved in and then deconstruct it when you move out.”

“Do you think you’d have cursed me out as many times, too?” you joke.

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew says and smacks you lightly with a book. You and Matthew continue to work in unison and silence. Once the books are all in their designated boxes and all the shelves were empty, you tape up the boxes and wait for the movers to arrive. The couch was wrapped already, so there was nowhere for you and Matthew to sit. You both opt to sit on the counter and in silence. This date had been on both of your calendars for the past few weeks. Now, though, that it’s finally come, you’re not ready for it.

You and Matthew continue to sit there in silence. Neither of you knows what to say at this moment. When you first told him, it seemed to be something that would never come. When he told you he loved you, today became a day you didn’t want ever to come. You turn your head to face Matthew to say something. You’re not sure what you’re going to say, but thankfully, the movers buzz up and say they’ve arrived. You remove yourself from the counter and get ready to welcome them into your house.

Matthew stands in a corner, out of the way, to make sure the movers handle your delicate boxes with care and they don’t rip you off. Once all the boxes and furniture are out of your apartment and into the moving box, you and Matthew are standing on the balcony of your now-empty apartment.

“So, this is it, huh?” you finally say.

Matthew nods. “You’re going to do great there.”

“You think so?”

He looks down at you. “I know so.”

“Thanks, Matty,” you whisper with a shaky breath. You told yourself you weren’t going to cry, but the minute Matthew spoke his words, you knew you couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore. “I don’t know if I’m making the right decision anymore.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Matthew reassures and pulls you into a hug. He lets you cry it out. “I know it’s the right decision for you, I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

“I just do because I know this change is going to be great for you.”

Once the tears have subsided, you look up to Matthew. “I don’t want to leave you. I’m not ready to leave you.”

“Just because you’re leaving Calgary doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. I promise that I’ll always be here for you.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to leave. What if I don’t like it?”

“What did you say to me when you told me at first? You told me it was a really great opportunity for you professionally,” Matthew reminds you. “It’s okay to put yourself first and your job. It’s okay to be selfish and do what’s good for you.”

You nod. “I know, I know, but I, just—”

“We’ll all be here to welcome you back to Calgary if you ever choose to come back.”

“I love you, Matthew. Thank you.”

“I love you, too,” Matthew replies and pulls you into a hug. It was goodbye, but Matthew knows it’s not forever. He’ll see you again. He knows he will.

No one can rewrite the stars How can you say you'll be mine Everything keeps us apart And I'm not the one you were meant to find It's not up to you It's not up to me When everyone tells us what we can be How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours Tonight

You leaned forward to pull out the pack of tissues from your purse to wipe away the tears. You were sitting on an aisle seat with two people on your right and a row of three to your left. You weren’t ready to cry in front of everyone.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself when you notice that you only have one more tissue in the pack. It’s only been two hours into your flight but you’ve already sobbed like crazy. Matthew drove you to the airport, and that’s where you said one last goodbye to him. The minute you got through security, you broke down. You were leaving Calgary once and for all, and that wasn’t something that was settling in your stomach well. When you got the job offer, you knew that you’d be making many sacrifices. You knew that it would be tough, but with Matthew—the man you loved—still being in Calgary was the biggest sacrifice you were making.

In all your years of friendship, you knew you loved Matthew. You knew from the minute you laid eyes on him, Matthew was the person for you. His soft eyes always looking at you with care in his eyes. His curls that really needed a professional wash once a week. His goofy but endearing smile never failed to put a smile on your face. It was all just friendship for you—until it wasn’t. It was friendship until he told you he loved you. That’s when it all changed. That’s when it became something you dreamed about. You thought about loving him and thinking about how great it would feel to be with him.

You wipe your tears with the tissue and lean your head back against the chair. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm. You knew you were doing what was best for your career, but with Matthew still in Calgary, you wanted to stay in Calgary for the boy. You were always told not to give up your career for a boy; it was professional and personal suicide. It was Matthew, though. You knew that Matthew would have been worth it to stay, but you know that it’s all the better for you to leave.

It was the right thing for you to do to leave, but then why did it hurt so much? Was leaving Matthew really worth all this pain?

All I want is to fly with you All I want is to fall with you So just give me all of you It feels impossible It’s not impossible Is it possible? Say that it’s possible

Matthew downs the beer in his hands and heads to open the door. He so didn’t want to talk to whoever was on the other side of it. It was the first New Year that he’d be spending without you, and all he wanted to do was force the heartbreak away. He knows that you leaving was the best thing for you, but he also hates himself for letting you go without at least trying something with you. He should have tried because then maybe he wouldn’t feel so broken inside.

“Yeah,” Matthew says annoyed as he opens the door.

“Happy New Year,” you say with a smile. “I brought champagne. I figured if I was in town for a few days, I might as well stop by, yeah?”

“Hey, hi, you’re here!” Matthew exclaims and welcomes you into a hug. He breathes in your familiar scent and is comforted. It’s been a while since he’s seen you in the flesh, and for you to be here was the greatest holiday miracle he could ask for. “Come on in.”

After catching up on the small, mundane topics, Matthew asks the question he’s been meaning to ask for the past hour since you showed up at his doorstep. “How’s the new city?”

Matthew’s looking at you as his words soak in. Your eyes cloud over at the question.

“It’s okay,” you reply. It was really bad, you think to yourself. You barely left your home unless you were going to work. You spent all but one hour of your time at work catching up on work. Each day, it seemed, resulted in more and more paperwork and tasks that would pile up. You knew that it was part of the job, but it seemed so much worse than you ever thought it could be.

“Just okay? What happened to your big adventure with a new job?”

“Not really what I thought it was going to be,” you breathe out and shift in your seat.

"It’ll get better; I’m sure of it.”

“Hey, Matthew?”

“Mm?”

“How long did it take for Calgary to feel like home?” you ask. Matthew thinks of what you said for a moment. Sure, he could say almost instantly, but that wasn’t the truth. Calgary felt like home maybe two months after he moved, but in actuality, it felt more like home once he met you—four months after he moved to Calgary. He couldn’t tell you that, though. He wanted you to thrive in your new city, and if he told you that you were the reason why Calgary felt like home, then you would lose hope in your new city feeling like home.

“A few months, I think,” Matthew lies. He really wants you to make your new city your home. As much as it pains Matthew for you not to be in Calgary, he had to do everything in his power to help you thrive.

“I hate it there, Matthew,” you admit. “I’m so busy catching up with work that I don’t have time to go out with my coworkers. I don’t have any friends, and I hate the job. My boss sucks, and my coworkers don’t have any advice for me. I hate it, Matthew. I hate it so much.”

Your confession broke his heart. He didn’t want you to be upset, but hearing your words angers Matthew. He knows he should have stopped you from moving; he could have stopped you from all this anger and heartbreak. Mostly, though, he wants to hurt your boss for making you hurt this badly.

“Well, you know like I always said, Calgary is always here for you if you want to come back,” Matthew tells you. “I’m here if you want to come back to Calgary.”

“Yeah?” you say excitedly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it because I know I’ll love to have you home.”

How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing can keep us apart Cause you are the one I was meant to find It's up to you And it's up to me No one can say what we get to be Why don't we rewrite the stars? Changing the world to be ours

When you flew back to your new city, you thought about Matthew’s words constantly. I’m here if you want to come back to Calgary, he said. I’ll love to have you home, he continued. You have no reason to doubt a single word he said, but could you do it? Could you leave and head back to Calgary after you left less than a year ago? Could you be brave enough?

You were when your supervising manager dropped a stack of paper onto your desk and said she needed it by noon. Yeah, you couldn’t take this shit anymore.

Once the work your supervising manager needed was done, you took a trip up to HR and asked for the forms to file your two weeks notice. They gave it to you, and by the end of your day, you placed the filled-out forms on your boss’ desk and walked out of the building free. You head to the post office to grab some boxes to start to pack. For the first time in weeks, you felt lighter. You were ready to leave and head back to Calgary and Matthew. Matthew, you were going home to Matthew.

In the two weeks you had left, you finished up your job and worked to repack your apartment. Thankfully, you never unpacked the guest room, so you had less to repack. On your fifteenth day, your last day, the movers arrived to load up the truck. They would be in Calgary in five days with your belongings waiting for you to unpack them in your new apartment.

You were spending the night at a hotel near the airport after you gave your keys to your landlord. You were leaving, and there wasn’t a feeling better than that.

You know I want you It's not a secret I try to hide But I can't have you We're bound to break and My hands are tied

“I’m coming,” Matthew yells as he dries his hands on the towel. He swings the door open and says, “I was on the toilet.”

“Did you wash your hands?” you ask with a smirk.

“Yeah, of course,” Matthew answers. “What are you doing here? Actually, come in first.”

Matthew ushers you in before he turns to you and waits for you to talk. “You know how you said that you’ll, um, love to have me home?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Does that offer still stand?”

“Wait, are you moving back?” Matthew asks, incredulously.

“The moving truck is en route and will be here in roughly four days.”

In amazement, Matthew scoops you up into a giant hug. “I know the holidays passed, but this is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“I’m back, Matthew, and I shouldn’t have ever left. I’m sorry; I should have—”

Matthew interrupts you with a soft kiss. His hands are soft on your face as he cups you and continues to kiss you. His lips are soft on yours, and finally, you get to run your hands through his curls. All you’ve wanted over the years is to run your hands through his hair, and now that you’ve finally got it, it’s so much better than you ever thought it was going to be. “I love you, and I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I’m not going anywhere else ever again. Only here, with you,” you reply before kissing him again. Yeah, you were home.

I hope you enjoyed this @ya-pucking-nerd!

196 notes · View notes

raysofcrosby · 2 years

Text

i'll be home for christmas – m. tkachuk

warnings: mentions of sex – oral (m+f) receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe!!), language, dirty talk, basically 18+, angst, asshole!matt realizing he made a big mistake and learning what he did two years earlier, bestfriend!brady rightfully calling matt a dumbass, italics signify flashbacks! oh, also the word p*nties, bc that word makes me cringe and it pretty much deserves its own warning.

requested: yes | no

inspiration: part two to baby, it's cold outside. otherwise known as the other side of the one-night stand...and the aftermath.

word count: 22,352 of pure unedited material [i thought i got carried away on part 1? lol well...i really got carried away on this one]

an: so definitely shoutout to @bqstqnbruin for helping me with the title bc i was ✨struggling✨ to decide as well as the writing a line that's painful bc she is the queen of angst and dialogue– guess which one it is and you get a prize [the prize is heartbreak<3] and yes, even though december is well over, the title is a christmas song [since we're on brand for that].

| part one • part three |

"Oh shit," he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed and shutting them tightly as he took a deep breath and exhaled, his right hand coming up and rubbing his right eye as he slowly opened them being greeted with the view of his ceiling.

He let his arm fall down beside him as he sighed again, slowly blinking and trying to wake himself up. He wasn't the least bit surprised of the pounding in his head. He knew that everyone had gone pretty hard last night at the bar, Brady ordering more shots than he could and both you and Matt partaking in Brady's shenanigans more than you should have.

What he was surprised by though, was the fact that you were still in his bed. If anything, he figured you would've freaked out the moment everything happened and waited till he was asleep to get dressed and sleep in the guest bedroom or even his living room.

Surprised? Yes, but not the least disappointed about waking up to your arm wrapped around his waist, a leg resting between his own, your head resting on his chest and the scent of your favorite shampoo and conditioner you always switched too in the winter months to "really get in the Christmas spirit," filling his nostrils. If anything, he didn't want to move a single inch because he knew that the peace in the moment would be gone and he spent too long wishing for this very moment to happen, just for him to ruin it.

He carefully brought his right hand up and rested it against your arm, his thumb brushing against your soft skin as his left hand came up behind your head and brushed some of your bedhead out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. It was the most nervous he ever was the moment you shifted, rubbing your cheek against his chest and your nose scrunching as you sighed. He was terrified you would wake up, see where you were, who you were with and absolutely lose your shit in the most you way possible– by making up some lie about needing to go back to your hotel, getting dressed and leaving his apartment, all while panicking on the inside.

But that didn't stop him from resting his own cheek against the stop of your head, the movements of his thumb, still brushing against your arm softly or his fingers tangling themselves in the ends of your hair. He was going to soak up every single minute he had with you like this, because he knew it wasn't going to last.

"Mmm five more minutes," you groaned, causing Matt to freeze his movements and an internal panic to rise even as you mumbled something else before sighing. "No, Mom, I'm not asking him."

This time, Matt couldn't help himself but to laugh. He never knew you talked in your sleep, even if between the few clear words you said, was just a bunch of mumbling and grumbling. Of all of the times he'd been around for the sleepovers you had in their living room with Brady and Taryn growing up or down in the basement, never once had he heard you mumble a word in your sleep. It was cute and he liked it a lot.

"Shut up, Brady." You huffed, kicking Matt's calf lightly, your once relaxed face now scrunched up in frustration before you blew out a breath of air and your face relaxed all except for your eyebrows, which were still partially furrowed.

Annnnnnd the moment was ruined, for that was the very reason why Matt never acted out on the secret crush he's harbored for you since the summer before he went into sixth grade when you made him a "good luck on your first day of middle school, don't get shoved into a locker," card and gifted it to him that last summer night all thanks to the way too many watchings of Max Keeble's Big Move. Back then, it was really more of a friend crush because you were still two years younger than him. But by the time the summer before his junior year arrived, it had formed into a real crush and it was all thanks to the cake smashing prank on your 14th birthday.

You'd been talking about it non-stop for weeks– how you were finally turning 14 and you couldn't wait to start school because that meant you were finally in high school. You were excited about having a party for your birthday, versus the dinner with family and close family friends and the sleepover with five of your closest girl friends that followed. This time– it was an actual party and you'd spent every waking moment after school or after soccer practice at Matt's house talking to his mom and getting help planning it.

And like they did every year, Matt and his family came over to your house to celebrate your birthday. Normally, he, Brady and Taryn pooled their money together to get you a gift, but Taryn and Brady both decided to venture off on their own, making it a contest on who knew you better and would get you the better gift. Matt sucked at gifts, plain and simple. Shopping for his parents on birthdays and holidays was easy– they were happy with anything he got them and always wanted the simple things. His siblings were easy too– though Taryn was starting to get a little hard to shop for because of her changing tastes. But everyone else...he didn't have a clue. So shopping for your present was his own kind of torture.

In the end, he chose to buy you a new mini soccer goal set since the netting on yours had torn and some soccer charm wish bracelet he saw in a store while shopping at the mall with their Mom– Brady and Taryn in search for your present. Everything was going well and the party was fun, though Matt wasn't really all that into hanging out with a bunch of 13-year-olds...he didn't mind it because it was your birthday. Come time for cake, he recognized that Brady had been acting a little shifty. Everyone sang, you blew out your candles and everyone was getting their slice of cake. You waited till everyone else had gotten one, your mom saving you the piece with your name on it and when you turned away from the table to come and sit where Matt, Brady and Taryn was– he noticed Brady get up quickly and stop you from sitting down just as you neared the table.

It happened in a flash– Brady pushing your hand that was holding your plate up to your face and pressing it against you, laughing before running away when you tore the plate away from your fake and went to throw it at him. The vanilla frosting and sprinkles were covering your face and you could barely see through it, but Matt could tell that you were upset. So...to keep your first party from turning into a total disaster, he got up, grabbed your hand and led you back into your house, down the hall and into the downstairs bathroom.

"I'm going to kill him," you cried, stomping your foot and simultaneously licking the frosting off of your lips. "I can't believe he did this today of all days!"

"I wish I could tell you why he did it," Matt sighed, squeezing the excess water out of the washcloth before bringing it up to your face, wiping off the frosting. "But Brady can be an asshole sometimes for no reason."

"He's getting his stupid payback is what he's doing," you huffed, crossing your arms and leaning back against the bathroom counter. "I kept telling him that I didn't mean to tell Natalie he has a crush on her last week at practice, it just slipped out."

"Natalie? Like your teammate?" Matt asked, rinsing the wash cloth out again before bringing it back to your face. "Brady doesn't have a crush on her."

"Really? I could've sworn he did," you replied, resting your hands on the counter and sighing. "He's never come to my games before and last week he came to a scrimmage...a scrimmage, Matt! Those don't even count. Plus it was like he was staring at her the whole time and they talked after while I was talking to coach."

Matt laughed, holding your chin in place as he wiped away the last big clump of frosting away from your nose and eyes. "As far as I know he doesn't have a crush on her."

Your eyebrows furrowed as Matt leaned to the left, reaching next to you to rinse and ring the washcloth out one last time. "Then why would he come to my scrimmage?"

"I don't know," Matt lied, shrugging his shoulders as he came back, grabbing onto your chin with your left hand and wiping away the last bit of frosting off of your cheek with the wash cloth in his right hand. "But don't let my dumbass brother ruin your night, okay?"

You looked up at him, directly into his eyes and nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Matty."

He smiled slightly and rolled his eyes, tossing the washcloth at your face lightly as he stepped back from you. "Don't mention it, dork."

Maybe tossing the frosting covered washcloth directly into your face wasn't the best decision, but it was the only thing he could think of doing to take his mind off of the small feelings of butterflies in his stomach. You ended up having a great party, you loved his gift and he even helped you get revenge on Brady by aiding in distracting him while she came up behind him and shoved a piece of cake into his face. And at the end of the night as most of the guests were leaving, you had enticed him into playing a one on one game with your new mini goal set. And when you won and insisted you play another game because he let you win that one, Matt agreed and you played again.

Only he didn't let you win the first one...or the second one, but he'd never tell because he liked playing against you. And maybe it was the moment he helped you clean the frosting off your face or maybe it was during your one on one soccer game where he felt the atmosphere shift for the first time whenever he was around you. He didn't know and it didn't matter. None of what happened that night mattered because even if all the stars aligned and he finally had the guts to make a move any of the years after that there was always one thing– well, technically one person– in his way.

Brady.

From the moment Brady ever started to actually like girls once he reached kindergarten, Matt knew that Brady had a crush on you. He knew it when he had their mom buy extras of your favorite chocolates for Valentine's Day in third grade. He knew it when Brady called dibs on sitting next to you on every single ride that trip to Six Flags in sixth grade. And he knew it that night of your birthday party, when you asked what other reason Brady had for bothering to come to a soccer scrimmage.

The answer was you, and Matt knew it all along, which is why he never got the courage to even drop clues about how he felt about you as you guys got older and went through high school and even after. Because Brady was his brother and Brady was practically in love with you and had been for years. He couldn't do that to his own brother, let alone you– the real nightmare having been the moment you would possibly have to choose between the two of them.

But then Brady met Emma his freshman year at Boston and he's been hooked on her ever since. So there was nothing standing in his way of finally making a move and letting you know just how he felt about you...yet he still couldn't do it. Maybe it was because for the last two-ish years the two of you hadn't talked as much as your normally did.

You weren't as active in the groupchat you had with him, Brady and Taryn– especially when he was. You didn't visit on your spring break like you had your first two years. Summers at home were fine, you still hung around and things felt the same...but felt so different at the same time and he couldn't figure out if he was just imagining all those times he caught you rolling your eyes at him when he said something or if you were actually doing it out of spite.

And it's not like last night could wipe any of that doubt out of his mind, because even though the night ended with the two of you naked in his bed, you were both still drunk. He always told you that you were way too nice for your own good when you were drunk. Besides that, he still couldn't help but think about the last time he'd seen you so happy and carefree around him like that– again, two years ago...the last time you had come up to Calgary during your winter break with Taryn to fly home with him.

Matt sighed, looking back down at you fast asleep and taking the moment in before he knew he was going to ruin it. He carefully moved your arm off of him as he rolled onto his side, laying it down onto his mattress. You moved your leg, mumbling in your sleep as he laid there frozen. When he didn't hear you or feel you move, he slid his legs towards the side of the bed, slowly putting his feet onto the floor and standing up.

He laughed to himself when he looked back at you, still lying in the same position and fast asleep. Your hair was fanned out over the pillows, your lips pursed and finally...your eyebrows had relaxed with the rest of your face as you slept soundly beneath his sheets in his bed. The cold air of his room sent a chill down his spine and he quietly rushed into the bathroom as fast as he could, wanting nothing more than to crawl right back into bed and soak up whatever time left he had in this bliss.

Once he was done, he washed his hands, drying them on the towel hanging up on the side of his shower and walked back into his room, only to see you rolled over onto your back, your head turned to the left and your left arm resting on top of it– the new position exposing half of your chest and all the hickeys Matt had left behind last night. It was embarrassing just how fast he felt the familiar twinge as he walked closer, pulling the comforter up just enough to cover you again– though the marks were still visible along your neck and collarbone.

"You should've seen all the looks those assholes gave me when we left the bar. If looks could kill, I would've been six feet under before we reached the door," he mumbled, nipping carefully on your neck. "All because they're jealous I'm the one taking you home. That you're in my bed and not theirs."

"They never stood a chance, Matty," you whispered, hands interlocking at the nape of his neck. "I'm all yours."

"Yeah?" He smirked, hands cupping the sides of your chest, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

"Yeah," you echoed, nodding. "So do it."

"Do what?" He asked, pushing himself up, hovering over you.

You pulled him back down, lips ghosting over his before moving towards his ear and sending chills down his spine. "Mark me up so they'll all know I'm yours."

He walked back around to his side of the bed, climbing back in as he yawned. Once he covered himself back up he looked at you, still sleeping soundly and haven't moved a muscle since. He picked his phone up off of his bedside table, checking the time– 10:45. He had some texts from Taryn, Brady, Rasmus, Jacob and Adam (the group who went out last night), one from his mom and then a ton of instagram notifications. Not bothering to read the sibling group chat– he just sent a thumbs up emoji to let them know he was alive and then put his phone back down, rolling over and closing his eyes.

He should at least be able to get a few more minutes of sleep before starvation set in for one of you.

But apparently, that wasn't the case and the universe wasn't on his side because after only having his eyes closed for five minutes...he heard you shifting beside him and mumbling softly, starting to wake up. He froze in his spot, trying to keep his breathing slow as he contemplated what to do. He could totally just roll over, put on a charming smile and say good morning– get ahead of the freak out or he could just pretend to be asleep and wait for you to leave.

"Oh no, no, no...please tell me I didn't," you whispered softly, Matt feeling the chill of the room enter beneath the comforter as you lifted it.

Annnnd fake being asleep it was. It surprisingly wasn't his first choice...but after hearing the disappointment in your voice...or maybe it was fear? It didn't matter, because either way, just hearing those words sank his heart into his chest.

Was waking up in his bed that bad?

"No, this can't be happening. I did not have sex with someone in Matthew's bed, no way. Nope, sorry." You whispered to yourself, not realizing you were a lot louder than you thought you were.

Hold up...did you not look at who was lying next to you? He wondered and was doing a horrible job at trying to keep himself from laughing. But still– maybe there was still a chance that your freakout would be less...dramatic if he just sat up right now and–

"I'll just...take a quick look and then prepare my begging and apology now. Yeah, that'll work. He'll have to forgive me. Or, I could play ignorant and just fake falling asleep somewhere else until Matt wakes up. Those options could both work."

Now Matt was really having a hard time not to laugh. You reacted exactly how he knew you would and it was almost scary how spot on he was with his prediction on what you would do. He was seconds away from sighing heavily and rolling himself over to reveal that he was awake until he heard you gasp.

"Please don't be naked, please don't be naked," you whispered, followed by another cool rush of air beneath his comforter, goosebumps forming on his skin until it dropped just as fast as it had been picked up.

Cue the dramatics, he thought as he rolled his eyes. It wasn't that bad to wake up in his bed, it's not like he's ever had complaints before...though really, no girls ever stayed the night. They walked in, had fun and then he walked them right back out. The same went for if he went to their place, in, out and back home in two hours, maybe an hour and a half. But you were being way past dramatic and he was over it. So when he felt you try to sneak out of the bed, he faked a groan into his pillow...which was actually a laugh at your horrible attempt at sneaking out from beneath the sheets.

You could've had the common decency to at least check to see if he was awake.

He smiled as you waited a few seconds before trying to move again, this time moving his right arm out from beneath his pillow and plopping it down on where he figured you were still lying down– and boy was he right because he now had his hand on your right boob. Now he was really struggling not to laugh and knew he was about seconds away from ruining his fake sleep excuse, so he did the one thing he knew would get you out of the bed– he squeezed your boob.

A gasp and a smack to the hand was enough to almost make him snort as he started to roll over, holding back from fully doing so until he heard his bathroom door shut and then he rolled over onto his back, shaking his head and smiling as he balanced on his elbows. He reached over, grabbing his phone again and this time really checking his messages.

G.O.A.T(aryn): 👍🏻? What is that supposed to mean?

Matt: I think it means that we're both not dead, so don't worry about it.

Bro with the flow: Pretty sure the original concern was whether or not you killed each other...proof of life for y/n?

Matt looked towards the bathroom door, heavily considering knocking on it and letting you know he was awake and had been, and was also in dire need of a proof of life pic per his siblings request, but ultimately decided not to since watching you panic was slightly entertaining in itself.

Matt: That's need to know information and you two don't need to know.

Bro with the flow: UMMM I'd say I'm pretty in the need to know if you killed my best friend last night...

G.O.A.T(aryn): Did you guys at least get home safely? It started to snow pretty bad last night sometime when you guys left without telling one anyway– so thanks for that heart attack.

Matt: We're grown adults, we don't need supervision.

Bro with the flow: y/n is a grown adult, you're a grown child. You need every bit of supervision.

Matt: I'm older wtf.

Bro with the flow: Which means you should also know to tell someone you're leaving before you actually do 🙂God knows what you two even did last night.

Annoyed with the lecture, he snapped a picture of your half of the unmade bed and his closed bedroom door, sending it off.

Matt: Fine since you're so in the need to know: we made it home safely, we had sex and she's in the bathroom. Good? Did you get all of that?

G.O.A.T(aryn): 😳

G.O.A.T(aryn): I KNEW IT!!!!!!

Bro with the flow: I could've done without the whole sex part and you could've at least kicked the empty condom box out of the picture but yeah sure. So happy you're alive.

Matt stopped replying to their siblings group chat, instead opening his messages with his mom.

Mom 💙: Aw, you two look great! Glad to see you guys are having fun out there. Can't wait for you to come home!

Mom 💙: And be safe tonight! Make sure you have a ride back and that the girls get home safely as well as you, your brother and friends!

He furrowed his eyebrows, scrolling up to see what she was talking about, only to see a total of five pictures he'd sent sometime at the bar. The first one was of the group all together, most likely from the beginning from the night. The second was of him, Taryn and Brady. The third was the same, but with you and Emma added in. The fourth was a picture of you and Matt sitting next to each other at the bar, smiling at the camera and from this angle he knew someone else had to take a picture. The last and final picture was a selfie of the two of you. You were standing in front of him, your back pressed to his chest and his arm was draped over your shoulder and resting just across the front of your chest and your hands were both reaching up and holding onto his arm. The both of you had big smiles on your faces and his head was leaning towards yours, partially resting against it, while you looked relaxed into him.

It was funny how in the first picture, the two of you were on opposite sides, but as the pictures and the night went on, you slowly started gravitating towards one another. He couldn't stop staring at and comparing the first and last picture. Your smile was different with him– and maybe it could be brushed off as the alcohol, but he knew it wasn't. This smile in your guys' selfie, both of your smiles looked happy, genuine. Hell, he was even smiling with his teeth and he hated doing that...but there he was in the picture with you...doing it.

"Come on, Matty you've got to really smile," you pouted, looking up at him.

"I am smiling, see?" He replied, smiling and looking back at his camera. "Now smile."

"That's not a real smile, Matthew Tkachuk," you replied, glaring at him through his camera screen. "I know your smile, I've seen your smile and you," you turned around, poking him in the chest. "Have a really pretty smile, I love it. It shows off your cute dimple."

"You think my dimple's cute?" He laughed, trying to prevent himself from blushing.

"I think you're cute," you replied, turning back around and looking at the camera. "And if you don't really smile for this picture, I'll text your Mom and tell her that you've been bullying me since Taryn and I got here."

"I have–"

"Then smile," you replied, looking up at him, putting on another pout. "For me, please?"

"Fine, only for you though."

You leaned up and kissed his cheek before reaching up and grabbing onto his hands as he draped his arm across you. "Thank you, Matty."

Matt sighed, getting up out of his bed and walked around it towards the bathroom door. He was ready to just face the music and talk to you about what happened last night, hoping that the two of you could sit down and talk about what it meant...maybe what it could even turn into. He wouldn't be mad if it was a reoccurring thing or if you guys decided to pursue something– maybe he'd even find the guts to tell you how he's felt all these years.

With a quiet sigh, he raised his hand to knock on the when he heard you groan. "God, y/n, what did you do last night?"

He froze, blinking as his eyebrows furrowed. Maybe it was because he was listening through a wooden door, maybe it was because he couldn't see your face to match it to your words or the muffled tone of your voice...but he didn't get the best feeling. And suddenly, every bit of wanting to talk about what happened, to see where it could go if you wanted it to flew right out the window and took any slight ounce of courage he had to tell you about his feelings with it.

Matt sighed again, walking away from the bathroom door and back towards his spot on the bed, climbing back underneath the comforter and putting his phone back onto his bedside table. He stayed on his right side, closing his eyes and trying to get himself to go back to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, all he was able to focus on was trying to figure out what you meant about that and how you really felt about what happened last night.

That and could hear your pacing just behind his bathroom door.

He held his breath the moment he heard the door slowly open, then realized that he was supposed to be faking being asleep and let it out, trying to steady his breathing to make you think he was fast asleep...all while his eyes were staring straight ahead at his bedroom wall. For a moment, he thought you had changed your mind and weren't going to tiptoe your way around his room without at least bothering to see if he was awake or to say good morning, but then he heard the rustling of you picking your jeans up off the floor, your belt clanking as you draped them over your arms.

Then the sound of his bedroom door closing and he let out of heavy sigh, rolling himself over and sitting up, staring at the door wondering if he should go after you or to just let you leave. Besides, it wasn't like he wouldn't be seeing you again in a little less than 24 hours. He waited a little bit longer until he heard what he thought was his apartment door closing before he got up out of his bed and wandered out into the apartment, seeing that you and any sign of you were gone. He tried not to focus too hard on the small feeling of disappointment he felt deep in his chest, instead moving into the kitchen to do what he always did mornings after a night out:

make some breakfast and lounge around until he found something to do.

And since he still needed to take a shower to wash off the booze that was leaking through his pores, he just stayed commando as he started to walk towards the fridge to grab the egg carton, bringing it out and walking back to the counter when his cell phone rang. He sighed, brushing the call off as Taryn or Brady or even someone else and was too hungry to walk back into his bedroom where he'd left his phone, letting it ring until it stopped.

He walked back to the fridge to grab the remaining bell pepper he'd cut up the other day for a snack, and grabbed the sausage as well before closing the fridge and walking back to the counter...hearing his phone ring again. Clearly someone was trying to get in contact with him, so he walked all the way back into his room, grabbed his phone off of his bedside table and looked down at the screen to see the front desk was calling instead of you or even Taryn or Brady.

Picking it up, he pressed the green circle, putting the call onto speaker phone as he walked back out towards his kitchen. "Hello?"

"Hey, Matthew? This is Julian down at the front desk–"

"Oh hey man, how are you doing? They're not working you too hard are they?" Matt asked, placing the phone down on the kitchen counter as he moved toward thee cupboard to grab a bowl and plate.

"Yeah, I'm good man. But hey listen, there's a girl down here, says her name is y/n l/n–"

Matt laughed to himself quietly, only imagining why you were stopped at the front desk. "Is she harassing you?"

"Um, no. You guys actually came back together last night and you stopped by the front desk for a bit. But listen, she wants to know if she can come back up."

"Can I talk to him?" Matt heard you whisper– you were always a pretty bad whisperer.

"Hm, I don't think I remember that," he joked, smiling to himself as he started to crack the eggs. "Can you ask her what her name is again? And how exactly I know her? My memory is a little hazy."

"Ma'am, what's your name again and how do you know him?"

Matt could only imagine the look on your face as Julian asked you to confirm your name and explain how you knew him. He would also be lying if he said that he wasn't the least bit curious to what your answer would be. Would you brush yourself off as just another girl making the walk of shame out of a random guys' apartment or would you explain that you'd spent the night in your childhood friends friend and blush as you said so?

"Uh, Matthew, she wants to talk to you."

Before he could even tell Julian no, he could hear the transferring of phones and then your slight scoff. "Matthew?"

"You sound familiar, but I don't think I know any y/n l/n. The name truly doesn't ring a bell." he smiled, cracking another egg. "Though, I think I did know a girl like that once when I was growing up. She used to write in her diary, 'Future Mrs. Tkachuk' all the time, it was kind of cute actually–"

Yeah, cutesy and nauseating because he knew what you really meant to write in not so many words was– Future Mrs. Brady Tkachuk.

"Matthew, let me up or I'll tell Julian here the truth about how you actually lost your virginity and not the story you've told yo make yourself sound cool." He could tell by the tone of your voice that you weren't joking and the last thing he needed was for one of the front desk guys, a guy he'd actually partied with on some weekends, to know the story of how he lost his virginity. "Did you know Matthew's brother and I used to call him 15 sec–"

"Jesus Christ, fine," he huffed, grabbing the three eggs and throwing them away. "Hand him the phone you brat."

He knew you were smiling. Even in the silence...he knew you had that stupidly attractive smug smile whenever you'd gotten your way. "Nice doing business with you Matthew, I'll see you in a few minutes."

Matt rolled his eyes as he waited to hear you hand the phone back to Julian. "Hey man, just give her one of the extra keys I have down there, she's good to go. I've known her since we were kids, she's not a full on psychopath. And sorry for any dramatics she's done down there, she's got a talent for it."

"Alright Matt, I'll talk to you later."

"Later man," Matt replied, hanging up the phone and rolling his eyes before walking over to his front door, unlocking it.

He hated that you even knew how he lost his virginity and it was only because a group of you had gotten drunk at a party he and Brady threw at their house the same summer you and Brady had graduated high school– their parents out of town with Taryn at a field hockey tournament. Most of the guests had left, only the small group remaining that had stuck around even after the party ended since they were all spending the night had all decided to play truth or dare while trying to finish off the rest of the beers. And since everyone was way past drunk so there was no starting off small or calm with either the truth's or the dares.

He'd learned way more about his friends and both yours' and Brady's mutual friends than he ever wanted to– and you learned about his embarrassing first time story when Brady dared him to tell everyone about it. Long story short...he was 17 and playing with USNTDP, lost it at a party to some girl in one of his classes and it was a big emphasis on the short part– considering the entire experience had only lasted about 15 seconds.

He'd also felt jealousy over you for the first time when all of your dares seemed to revolve around Brady– give Brady a lap dance (that you laughed during the entire 10 seconds it happened), sit on Brady's lap the rest of the game, hold hands the rest of the game– so by the time you said dare and it was his turn, he dared you to ignore Brady the rest of the game. Petty? Absolutely. And it didn't turn out any better in his favor when you were dared to play seven minutes in heaven with Tommy Smultz– a boy who grew up right down the street from you guys and was also one of Matt's friends while growing up.

A dare was a dare but even through your intoxication and playful laugh as you grabbed Tommy's hand and led him over to the small coat closet in the basement, Matt saw your eyes flicker over in their direction– his and Bradys– as the quick flash of a frown showed too...and he's always imagined that you were looking at him, when he knew you were most likely looking at Brady.

He left the basement to go order pizza before the closet door closed and stayed up stairs until the pizza got there thirty minutes later.

As he moved the pots out from beneath the bottom cupboards, he grabbed a small skillet and stood back up, placing it on the counter just as a knock came from the door. "It's unlocked!"

"Listen, I want to be here just as much as you want me to be here, so let's just petend the other doesn't exist and oh my god, you're naked!"

Matt turned around and looked down, forgetting that he had skipped over putting on his boxers from last night before jumping into the shower after he ate. "It's my apartment," he laughed, walking back towards the counter with the carton of eggs in his hand, putting them back down. "Besides, it's not like you've never seen it before."

He decided he'd do the nice thing and make you breakfast since you were back in his apartment– his mom raised him right. And with the comment, he knew you'd most likely think back on your guys' night together, but there was another time when he'd been naked in front of you– and that one wasn't nearly as fun.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, you and Brady pranked me that summer at the lake two years ago with dissolving swim trunks." He smiled as he caught sight of you shielding your eyes even though you were already staring at the wall. "Or are you so mesmerized by my bare ass that you forgot?"

"I'm taking a shower and borrowing some of your clothes," you replied, walking away and bumping into his dining room table, making him stifle a laugh. "Plug my phone in for me? It's dead."

"Sure, boss," Matt started to walk out of the kitchen as you neared his bedroom, you immediately walking again once you heard his steps no doubt. "I'm making breakfast, by the way."

"It's 11 o'clock."

"Fine, make your own omelet them. See if I care if you starve." He watched as you still tried to shield your view, even though he was way behind you now as if you weren't just all over his body last night. "Towels are in the cabinet by the tup. I'm sure you can figure out where my clothes are."

You closed his bedroom door behind you without a reply and he rolled his eyes, opening your purse and reaching in to grab your phone before walking back into the kitchen where he had a phone charge on the counter. When he got back into the kitchen, he grabbed the charger off of the counter and plugged your phone in. When he felt the small vibration in his hand, his eyebrows raised...he was still surprised your phone even worked after you dropped it in the sink with the ramen bowl you were trying to make last night.

"Oh shit, Matty," you whined, his arm right arm wrapped around your waist holding you up since resting your arms on the counter were doing no good.

"You need to come, y/n?" He whispered, lips pressed against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers, especially when I do this." He turned his wrist slightly, the pads of his fingertips, stroking at your g-spot teasingly like he'd been doing from the start.

You gasped his name just barely, your head falling down against your forearms as he repeated the motion again and again while his thumb nudged at your clit. "Matty please."

"'M gonna get you ready for me," he mumbled, hand moving faster as he heard your breathing pick up and felt your squirm against him, Matt taking advantage and pressing himself further against you. "You feel what you do to me? Y/n? That's all from you baby, I love making you feel good and hearing you whine my name."

The moan that emerged from the back of your throat as you reached down and gripped onto his right arm the moment you started to come around his fingers was hot enough to the point where that, added in with you squirming against his body and hand, almost made him erupt in his own pants. He kissed the part of your shoulder that was exposed from your bodysuit before reaching down and snapping your bodysuit back into place and then pulling up the jeans he'd pushed down to your mid thigh, leaving them unbuckled and unzipped.

"Are we done?" You asked, turning around and leaning back against the counter, your chest rising and falling still.

"Not even, but I'd rather not see you faceplant in my kitchen because your pants are halfway down," he laughed, resting his hands on your hips and leaning in to kiss you. "We've got all night, y/n. And I've been–" his eyes wandered towards the sink when he saw a light emerge from it, only to see your phone resting beneath the bowl of ramen– the steady stream of water falling onto both. "Oh shit."

"Mm oh well, no ramen," you replied, kissing his cheek and stepping out of the kitchen. "Let's go to the couch."

"But your phone–"

"It'll be fine in the morning," you replied, leaving him behind and walking into his living room.

He huffed, turning off the sink and grabbing your phone and a towel he had hanging off the oven handle, trying his best to check for damage and dry it off. You had a missed call from Taryn and some texts, but he just kept drying the phone off, ignoring both.

"Matty come on," you whined, sitting on the couch. "You said we weren't done and I want to suck–"

"Okay, shit, hold on," he huffed, tossing the towel onto the counter before making his way over to where you put your purse (on his floor, which wasn't at all surprising) and picking it up before dropping your phone into it and putting the purse back down on the ground. He walked over to the couch and plopped down next to you, turning to you with a smile. "Okay, now where were we?"

You straddled his lap, a smile on your face as you reached for your right shoulder, slowly tugging down at the material of your bodysuit. "Right about here."

A chill went up his spine and he rubbed his arms, noticing the goosebumps starting to rise on his skin. And then he remembered that his heater was still broken. He huffed, walking over to his bedroom door and getting ready to just barge in, but instead stopped and knocked.

"Yeah?" You called out, sounding nervous.

"Are you in the bathroom yet? I want to grab some clothes." He replied, leaning his left shoulder against the door.

"Whatever happened to 'sue me for wanting to walk around my apartment naked?'"

Matt rolled his eyes, standing up and grabbing onto the door handle. "It was nice until I remembered my heat stopped working yesterday and I haven't gotten anyone to fix it yet. So I'd love for you to get your ass in my bathroom before my dick freezes, shrinks and falls off."

"You sure it already hasn't shrunk yet?"

He rolled his eyes, no longer caring on whether or not you were in the bathroom or still in his room and no caring if he walked in on you dressed or naked– it's not like it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before...let alone in the last twelve hours. He opened the door, walking in just as he saw his bathroom door slide shut.

"It's the lighting!" He replied, walking over his dresser and opening a drawer, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and then another drawer for socks since his mom always told him that the quickest way to warm up, was by first covering your feet. "Besides, that's not what you were saying last night," he mumbled, shutting the drawers and tossing the clothes onto the end of his bed.

"For someone who just said that they're going to fuck me in their bed and then against their wall...there are still a lot of clothes involved right now." You said, arms wrapped around his neck.

"Just...give me a minute, okay?" He sighed, holding himself up partially so he wasn't fully lying on top of you.

"Tell me you didn't finish in your pants–"

"No, but–"

"Am I going to have to take my own pants off then or are you–"

"Y/n–"

You raised your hips up into his, pouting with your bottom lip. "Come on then, Matty."

He rolled his eyes, sighing again. "Y/n, I just want to–" He stopped looking down between you as he watched your hands unzip his already unbuttoned pants thanks to the blowjob you'd just given him out in the living room. "What are you doing, you dork?"

"I want you and you keep teasing me by dragging it out, so..." you started to tug his jeans down, his boxers lagging behind in the material. "I'll just start without–"

Matt reached down with both hands, grabbed yours and brought them up above your head, his body pressed against you fully as his lips ghosted over yours and he stared intensely into your eyes, desperately hoping you would be able to see the meaning behind his words. "I want you too."

He walked over to the bathroom door, knocking on it. "Don't spend all day in the shower either! I'd like to take one too and it's my apartment."

Without hearing your reply, he walked out of his room and shut the door, walking back towards the kitchen to finish making breakfast. He was already feeling a little warmer as he cooked his omelet before sliding it onto a plate and putting the plate up on the counter. He looked over towards his bedroom door, still hearing the shower water running and sighed, grabbing three more eggs before returning the egg carton back into his fridge, grabbing the small amount of spinach he had left that he was planning on later using today for a smoothie after his workout. But you liked spinach in your omelet and regardless of that he said it– he did care if you starved or not.

So, three eggs, a small handful of shredded cheese, the remainder of his spinach later and one complete omelet later...he placed your breakfast onto a separate plate and onto the counter beside his before grabbing you both forks– only hoping that you'd finish your shower soon so the two of you could eat and talk about last night.

A talk he was still trying to build up the courage to have.

Matt would be lying if he said watching you come out wearing some of his clothes didn't do something to him. Some of his clothes meaning that the moment you walked out in the red flames sweatshirt, he knew it wasn't his– and he didn't know whether to think too much into the fact that out of all of the sweatshirts he had in his closet, you chose a flames one, or to brush it off as coincidence and you were just trying to get dressed and fast, grabbing the first one you saw.

He did notice a few other things while he was in the shower though. A towel draped right next to his, that his shampoo, conditioner and body washed were no longer in their usual spaces and a wash cloth was hanging on the rack in the shower, which he assumed you used vice using his loofah. It was the thoughts of last night and knowing that you smelled like him after using his shower stuff and knowing of the existence of all the hickeys that he'd left on you last night that extended his shower a few minutes longer than he planned.

Even if the two of you did spend last night together, the last thing he wanted to do right now was walk back out into his apartment and spend the rest of the morning around you with a noticeable boner.

After he was done solving the issue, he took no time getting out of the shower and dressed into a new pair of pajama pants and socks before walking into his closet and grabbing his flames sweatshirt (the one with his name and number on the back) before walking back out into the apartment, only to see you fast asleep on the couch.

"God, I've thought of this so many times," he groaned, fighting for his life to keep his eyes open as he watched you hold him in your right hand, swirling your tongue around the throbbing head before letting him sink back into your mouth fully, all while your left hand was playing with his balls. "So, so, so many times."

His chest rose and fell heavily as he felt the build up from your endless teasing payback of his actions in the kitchen start to take over, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion.

"Have you ever got yourself off thinking about me?" You whispered, brushing the pad of your thumb over his tip, licking up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around him again.

"Yeah," he mumbled, feeling himself twitch in your mouth as you kept bobbing up and down. "Thinking about this and– and oh shit," he'd been fighting his body's urge to thrust up into your mouth, but as he felt himself come undone, the tension he'd been feeling too much for his brain and it was like he shut down as he came inside your mouth– only being brought back to reality when he heard you gag harder than you had before...when you purposely and were prepared to take him fully into your mouth– not caught off guard.

"Agh shit sorry, sorry," he panicked, sitting himself up as you had your head turned to the side, coughing. "I didn't mean to...not so hard, shit, are you okay?"

"Great," you coughed again, your left hand coming up and grabbing at your throat as your right hand stayed put on his thigh. "Just got a little scared 'cause I choked a bit."

"Shit," he scooted towards the end of the cushion, cupping your face with his hands as he looked you over. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to I just– I got–"

"It's okay, Matty," you laughed, pushing yourself up onto your feet by using his knees as support. "You got a little excited, it's not like I died."

He swallowed the small knot in his throat, shaking his head as he let his hands fall onto his thighs. "But you said you couldn't breath."

"I said I choked, which is something I kind of expected when you came in my mouth because it was kind of a lot," you bent down and grabbed his hands, pulling him up onto his feet before wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Y/n," he sighed, reaching down and tucking himself back into his boxers and jeans before zipping them up.

"Don't y/n me, Matthew," you said, looking up at him and resting your chin on his bare chest. "I'm not dead, I was just caught off guard and didn't expect you to try and impale my throat, okay? So just relax."

Matt sighed, bringing his hands back up to your face and brushing his thumbs against your flushed cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay? The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you..."

"I'm perfectly fine, just really horny," you replied, looping your index fingers through his front belt loops and walking backwards towards his kitchen table before letting go and hopping up onto it, opening your legs and tugging him towards you by the belt loops once more. "But if you feel so bad, I know one way you can make it up to me," you whispered, pulling away from him with a playful smile on your face and grabbing his hands, resting them on the waistband of your jeans before leaning yourself back onto your elbows.

"Shit," he mumbled, reaching down and adjusting himself in his pajama pants before reaching just behind your legs and grabbing a pillow tossing it down at you. "Get up."

"Huh?" You asked, he clearly pulled you out of a dream state because you looked lost for a second until you looked at him.

"Get up, I'm sitting here too," he replied, waving you over to the other end of the couch. "Oh and wear this sweatshirt instead."

"Why? What's wrong with this one?"

Besides that it's Marky's and not mine? None. He thought, rolling his eyes, tossing the new sweatshirt onto . "Well, if you would had looked at the back, you would've noticed it's not mine it's Marky's. He left it over here the other weekend and I washed it for him. I'm giving it to him tomorrow, so take it off."

He watched as you looked at his flames sweatshirt in your lap, brushing your fingers over the material before looking up at him with a smile and shaking your head. "Nah, I like him. I'd rather wear his sweatshirt than yours."

Ouch. That stung, but he knew you were bullshitting...or at least he hoped you were, so he wasn't going to let it show. "Y/n, come on–"

"I'm kidding, relax," you replied, sitting up and exhaling. "This isn't a free show, Tkachuk. Go grab yourself another shirt so I can change peacefully."

He wanted to say 'it's not like I haven't seen you naked before' but as far as he knew you knew...the entire night you two spent together was a fogged memory. So instead, he just held out his hand, closed his eyes and said– "I'll close my eyes."

Matt didn't know if there was some old wives tale saying thing that went along with how someone is able to tell if they were being stared at, but he knew it was a thing and he knew you were staring right at him– he could practically feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a warmth wash over him as your gaze looked him over. And you weren't secretive about it at all.

"I know I'm hot, but the staring isn't needed," he smirked, keeping his eyes just barely closed as he could only see a small glimpse of you through his long eyelashes.

"I wasn't staring at you," you mumbled the lie before taking off Marky's sweatshirt, Matt opening his eyes for the short time to see you wearing that chicken cutlet sticky boob contraption you called a bra and closed his eyes tightly when you tugged the sweatshirt off of you. "And I thought I told you to keep your eyes shut."

He laughed slightly before opening his eyes and grabbing the sweatshirt. "You really think I need to have my eyes open to know when you're ogling my goods? I'll be right back."

"Get lost," you replied, as he watched you tug at his sweatshirt strings to try and hide the hickeys on your neck– the ones he could still see.

"I bet you wish I could," he laughed, folding Marky's sweatshirt back up as he walked into his bedroom and placed it back down onto the dresser. He walked back into his closet, grabbing the first sweatshirt he saw, an old Blues one from when he was a kid, and tugged it on before walking back out.

"Did Julian happen to tell you when he thought the snowplows would be out?" He asked, walking over and sitting down on the middle cushion, right next to you.

He knew it would get on your nerves and when you kicked your foot out to nudge him to the other side of the couch, he laughed. "Personal space. And no, he didn't. He just said they couldn't get them out yet."

"Aren't you flying home tonight?" Matt sighed, picking his phone up off of the table in front of them and unlocking it, scrolling through the sibling group chat to see Brady and Taryn both talking about the snow situation and flights and asking whether or not you and Matt had killed each other yet. Brady adding in a note that he'd "like to never know about anymore sex between you two ever again."

"Hopefully. Also, I think your charger's defected 'cause my phone isn't working."

He looked up from his phone and over at you while trying to hide his amused smile. "That's probably because you dropped it last night. You know, when you were drunk off your ass and trying to make ramen."

"I was not–" your eyes were wide as you scoffed and shook your head, no doubt trying to hide your blushing face from him. "You were drunk too! How do you know I was trying to make ramen?"

Again, he wanted to blurt out something along the lines of "maybe because I was standing right behind you with my hand in your pants and made you come against the counter" but against his better judgement, he decided not to and just grabbed your hand and lead you over into the kitchen, stepping onto the pedestal of his trash can to show you the uncooked ramen bowl he'd thrown away. "You spilled it in the sink while trying to Snapchat Taryn and your phone went with it."

Technically not a lie, he just omitted the part to where it was actually him having his hand in your pants and touching you that caused it.

"Shit," you sighed, brushing by him and grabbing your phone, unplugging it from the charger. "Do you have any rice?"

He felt bad not thinking about putting it in rice last night when he rescued it from the water and just choosing to dry it off. Then again, you were off in the living room, impatient as always and whining about him to hurry up and get on the couch with you– so a reasonable fix for your phone was the last thing on his mind. But now, it was the only thing on his mind– because it was partially his fault that your phone was damaged...and you had just gotten that phone this summer.

"You could try it, but you might end up having to get a new phone," he said, walking back over and putting the bowl of rice down onto the counter. "It took up a bit before we realized you dropped it in the water."

He took the phone from your hands, putting it into the bowl and covering it up with the rice, hoping that maybe even so many hours later, the damage wasn't too bad and the rice would be able to soak up some of the water. When he looked back at you, he saw you zoned out and looking towards the sink, eyebrows furrowed slightly..."Yes."

And that was when he knew. You were thinking about last night just as much as he'd been this entire morning.

"What?"

"Huh?" You asked, shaking your head slightly as if to zone yourself back in before looking back at him.

"You just said yes?" He asked, licking his lips just barely as he tried to bite back the smile that was trying to emerge on his face.

"Yeah, I did," you nodded, looking down at the bowl of rice. "Because I-I was saying yes...to how I might need to get a new phone."

Liar. He wanted to call you out so bad and it was getting harder just to bite back the smile he was fighting, even tasting a little bit of blood from biting his lip so hard. He wanted to tell you that he knew you had just relieved the very moment you two shared in the kitchen moments after you'd arrived back at his apartment. That he noticed the way your breathing had hitched just slightly or how your left hand had clenched into a half-hearted fist.

But then he thought back on your reaction this morning and your self-disappointed question behind his bathroom door when you asked yourself what the hell you'd gotten yourself into last night. So he didn't and he wouldn't. Not until you brought it up first.

Because maybe then that meant that your guys' night together had meant a little more to you like it did him.

Pure torture.

It was pure torture for him sitting there with you in his living room, his mind reliving every bit of last night anytime he dared to look away from the tv and half a stiffy in his pants he kept having to readjust while damning himself for not wearing any briefs or boxers. Everywhere he looked, boom– a memory from last night. Kitchen? Yep. Dining room table? Mhhm. The very couch you were sitting on? Twice. Bedroom door and the wall next to it? Mhhm and his arms and legs proved it.

Plus, it didn't really help that you were no longer all "personal space" on his couch, your legs extending out against his, a dramatic sigh whenever you shifted on the couch and how your foot kept brushing against the back of his pants, though he wasn't all that sure if you knew.

He figured you would've cracked by now, bringing up what had happened between you two last night at least once in the last four hours, but surprisingly you had stayed strong– only ever talking whenever something happened on the tv. You barely even said more than "okay" when he told you about the phone call he'd gotten about the snowplows being out on the road and that Taryn knew you were here– though you did say "please don't tell her that," but it was too late since Taryn had known for hours– and that she would call once she was on her way to pick you up.

Your insistence on Taryn not knowing you were here only confused him more and made him a little more mad too. He's known you for two decades, he knew how to read you and sometimes felt like he could read your mind– but never had you been more frustrating than these last four hours. What could he have possibly done to make you sneak out of his apartment in your clothes from last rather than wait for him to wake up and you guys could talk, eat breakfast and who knows– maybe even have passed the time in a much more enjoyable way, like a replay of last night?

Matt wanted to be annoyed with you and he was, but he was also stuck in the cycle of finding you annoying and then seeing you do something stupidly attractive and then he was stuck finding himself wanting to kiss the hell out of you instead. It didn't help that you had spent the last few hours even fighting him on what to watch on tv.

And it was especially hard not to look at you whenever you weren't paying attention to him, because he could look at you all day and never get tired of it...and also never stop replaying last night in his mind– which wasn't all that helpful in the downstairs department.

"I'm curious, did you choose to watch Game of Thrones for the show?" You asked, turning away from the show credits and looking at him, resting your head on your closed fist. "Or for the sex scenes where the girls have the dramatic 'take me to bed' eyes?"

He kissed the inside of your thighs before leaving a trail up to your stomach, pressing a kiss just above your belly button. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you come?" He mumbled against your skin, his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs.

"Only every time," You sighed, laying your arm over your forehead, catching your breath.

"Every time, hm?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your guys are that good?"

You pushed yourself onto your elbows, eyebrows furrowed for only a slight second before you laughed nervously, shaking your head and sitting yourself up. "Why are we talking about my one-night stands? They don't mean anything, right?"

"I guess, but is that what this–"

"Good," you wrapped your arms around his neck and scooted forward, wrapping your legs around his waist, looking at him with pouty eyes. "So, take me to bed, Matty."

He rolled his eyes, handing you the remote. "Y/n it's your turn to pick. Just...please don't pick Snapped. Nothing about that show screams Merry Christmas."

"And Game of Thrones does?" You asked, reaching for the remote and your hand brushing against his.

"It's got snow in it," he smirked, nodding at you.

His legs were twisted in the sheets after you rolled the both of you over, hand wrapped around his cock and holding him as you dropped down onto him, your warm walls clenching around him as you started to grind your hips against his, falling forward against his chest with a whine. "Fuck, Matty."

"How's it feel, y/n?" He mumbled against your hair, his hands gripping onto your ass, moving you faster against him as he met your guided hips, barely audible whines falling from your lips. "Come on, wanna know how good I'm making my girl feel."

"Ah-uh fuck," you sighed, barely pushing yourself up and bringing your palms to his chest, your head hanging down. "I'm gonna–"

"Just because it has snow in it, doesn't make it Christmas-related," you replied, rolling your eyes as he watched you change streams. "But you know what is? Harry Potter."

He groaned, rolling his head back against the couch and looking at you. "How the hell is Harry Potter Christmas related?"

"What the hell was that for?" He asked, stopping mid-stroke and dropping your right leg from his hip.

"What?"

"You rolled your eyes...why?"

You sighed, letting your leg fall flat to the mattress. "I'm not fragile, Matt. You can put my leg a little higher you know. Plus, it'll let me feel you deeper," you grabbed his hand, resting it on your lower abdomen. "Just do it and watch, I promise you won't break me."

He placed your right leg on his shoulder, slowly leaning closer to you before sliding his swollen tip through your folds and sinking into you, watching your jaw drop and your eyebrows knit together. "Feel any deeper, baby?"

"So deep Matty, feel," you pressed your hand on top of his, adding pressure to your abdomen as he started to stroke faster, your eyes rolling back into your head. "Oh shit."

"It's got snow in it," you smiled, putting the remote down between you both.

He sighed, stretching his arms up and running his fingers through his hair as he watched the opening credits. "Why can't we watch a feel-good movie?"

"Jesus Christ," you gasped, nails digging into his back as his arm beneath you arched your back up into him, another deep stroke hitting your g-spot. "Right there, please."

"Please what? Y/n?" He whispered against your lips before kissing down your chest and wrapping a lip around your right nipple, tongue swirling around the bud before he let it go with an audible pop. "What do you want, baby?"

"Keep doing that," you breathed out, eyes closed shut as he kept delivering deep and deliberate strokes into you. "It feels so fucking good, Matty. So good."

He motioned towards the screen dramatically, turning halfway to you. "Die hard is a great Christmas movie. Or I don't know, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Frosty, that Love Actually movie you and Taryn are obsessed with. Any of those would be better than–"

"Why haven't you said something?" You blurted out, looking away from the tv and at him, your chest rising and falling fast. "I know you know, but you haven't said anything."

Annnnnd you cracked, but your question wasn't good enough for him. He wanted you to be the one to really talk about it...so he played dumb.

"Anything about?"

You huffed, raising your hand dramatically before letting it fall back against your thigh with a slap. "I don't know, Matt. Maybe about how you've turned half of my body into a hickey museum last night? Or how you fingered me against your kitchen sink? The fact that I blew you on this couch and you had your stupidly attractive mouth shoved between my legs on the kitchen table? Fucked me against your bedroom door, against your wall, in your bed...any of that ring a bell?"

Oh it rang a lot of bells and hearing you recount every bit of last night as a cliff notes version was somehow extremely attractive since he'd spent the last four hours also thinking about all of the ways he had you in his apartment. And finally, he didn't have to hold back the smile he'd spent all day fighting.

"I was wondering when you'd break."

"What?"

"You've been on edge all morning, you're easier to read than you think, y/n," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I could see you zone out and knew you were reliving last night."

You rolled your eyes and he loved it, every. single. time. "There's no way you could know that. i'm hungover and tired, of course I'll zone out."

"Sure," he teased, still smiling as he let his eyes dwindle down your body. "So you're telling me if we were to strip down right now, that I wouldn't find you wetter than Niagara falls?"

He really hoped this was going where he thought it was. That the nervous way your eyes were looking at everywhere but his own– checking out his arms, his torso, hell, his entire body. How he saw the way your eyes were also lingering on the spots in the apartment where the two of you had both half-naked and naked bodies pressed and intertwined together. His heart was beating against his chest as he stared at you, itching to just lean across the short distance, grab your face and kiss the shit out of you.

All he was waiting for, was the a-okay. The sign that you wanted him to and he would.

"You're gross, get away from me," you huffed, annoyed and rolling your eyes before turning away from him completely.

You missed the way his shoulders sunk or how the smile fell into a frown– hell, his whole body practically deflated into the couch and instead of racing fast against his chest– his heart was now thudding in his stomach, slowly aching.

"Why are we talking about my one-night stands? They don't mean anything, right?"

He'd been wondering if that's all it was from the moment the words left your mouth. Even after all of the stuff you guys did after that moment on his dining room table– it was stuck in his mind. Because to him, it was more than that. It was the universe finally giving him a shot that he'd been too scared to take– to finally express how he felt about you, and sure maybe ideally he didn't plan on it all starting out with the both of you stumbling home to his apartment from the bar. But it was a stepping stone to a moment where he could finally sit you down and tell you how he's felt for you these last few years– how he's loved you just as long, maybe even longer.

Yet to you...all it was a one-night stand. A 'what the fuck did I do' panic you locked yourself into from the moment you woke up beside him.

"They don't mean anything, right?"

He quietly tried to clear the knot that was stuck in his throat, covering it up with a laugh at the failed attempt before forcing a smile on his face. "I don't see the big deal about me not saying anything, y/n. We had sex, we had fun, it happened and now it's over. What is there to say about it?"

'Say something, say anything.' He thought. Because right now, anything would have been better than sitting there staring at your back in silence while he pretended that he was okay with brushing it off as nothing. He didn't care if you said he was the worst night out of all your previous ones– though it would damage his ego just a bit– because he'd teasingly call you out on your bluff and the silence would be no more.

It wouldn't be so damn loud.

"I don't know," you finally spoke, turning back around to face him, a neutral expression on your face. "Maybe because we've known each other for 20 years? There's a line–"

'Okay, maybe don't say just anything,' he thought. He knew he was getting fed an excuse, a shitty one that he knew wasn't the reason why you were seemingly so regretful about your shared night.

And it only made him angry.

"And we crossed it, blah, blah, blah," he replied, waving you off and rolling his eyes. "It doesn't matter because it was a drunken hook-up, nothing more."

He didn't mean for it to come off as harsh as it did, the emotions he let slip in a moment of weakness. You too let whatever guard you were holding up fall because he saw the way you instantly reacted to his brush off, the tweak of your lips before you pursed them and pushing yourself up off of the couch.

"Fine."

That was all you said as you walked into the kitchen, Matt not following behind you or letting his gaze follow you either. Instead, he balled up his fist and rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, then propped his head up against the fist, staring at his phone and wishing for Taryn to text him that she was on her way. And when his phone did light up, it wasn't a text from Taryn, it was a venmo notifcation of your name requesting money. He rolled his eyes, unlocking his phone and clicking on the notification.

"20?" He asked, letting his arm drop on the couch and looking at you. "$20 for," he paused, looking back at the screen and laughing in disbelief. "'To pay for the quality concealer it's going to cost to cover up you turning me into your personal chew toy?' Really?"

"Yeah, really," you replied, voice dripping with annoyance. "I'm not living in turtlenecks for the next two weeks because you turn into Edward Cullen when you have sex."

He snorted, wanting nothing more than to shove that back in your face by telling you that you were the one who told him to do it– wanted him to do it. But instead, he'd play your little game and he'd play it well, considering he'd spent the last 20 years learning the rules.

"Okay, if that's how you want to play it," he replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he paid $5 more than you requested, made one of his own and then paid you an additional amount, sending them all off with a smile.

$25 for your concealer, $20 for damage control to his own torso and paid you $50 for the morning after pill.

"Take that down right now!" You gasped, staring at your phone screen.

"Why?" He was smug as he leaned back into the couch, letting you play right into his hand.

"Because your entire Venmo is public, you dumbass!" He couldn't help but smile as you stomped your way over to him before shoving your phone into his face. "And I don't know if you can read or not, but you literally just paid me $50 and wrote 'no babies' with a stupid smiley face."

"You're so dramatic, no one's going to see it." He replied, standing up off of the couch.

"Everyone is going to see it!" You argued, shoving his hand into his chest. "Delete it. I don't need you publishing that I let you come in me, you dipwad. And I don't need your $50 because I'm on birth control, which you should heavily consider, considering you had no condoms last night."

Okay, maybe he'd gone a little too far. He could see that you were genuinely pissed instead of that annoyed look you initially had. He pushed the line a little too far with the 'no babies' part, but he wasn't taking back his $50.

"Fine, whatever, I'll delete it. Besides, I offered to come on you, but you told me no because we were protected and you wanted me to, what did you say?" He paused, letting his signature smirk return to his face. "Feel every bit of me, I believe."

And damn, did you. Even just thinking about it made his dick twitch in his pajama pants. Matt wasn't stupid, his parents both stressed the importance of protection the moment he was old enough to earn the birds and the bees talk. And he'd never gone a single hook-up without wearing a condom– never risking the odd chance even if the girl was on birth control– but you...he trusted you with his whole life and he'd take every chance on you.

"Shit, y/n," he groaned, falling back and resting on his heels as he held the empty condom box. "I'm out."

"We can still do it," you replied, sitting yourself up and resting your hands on his thighs. "I'm clean and as long as you are, I don't care about not having a condom."

"I'm clean," he nodded, tapping the empty box against his left palm, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he easily went against every safe sex talk his parents ever gave him without a second thought. "I can just pull out and come on you if you're cool with that?"

"No," you replied, running your palms up and down his thighs slowly. "I'm on birth control and I want to feel you inside of me," you whispered, tilting your head up towards him, lips ghosting just barely over his as you smiled and your right hand wrapped around his cock. "Every bit of you."

"Yeah, probably because even drunk I know you wouldn't have the common courtesy to clean your evil spawn off of me if you did."

False. His parents didn't raise a caveman. He easily would've gotten out of bed and grabbed you a warm towel to wipe you down with– hell, he even would've started a damn shower.

"Keep the $50 just in case any of my evil spawn survive your birth control. I could only hope our kid doesn't get your dramatic brattiness," he replied, struggling to roll his eyes without letting on that his brain had even dared to wander down the road of the two of you accidentally starting a family, or even purposely years from now.

He wouldn't care if your guys' kid got your dramatic brattiness, because they were still you half you.

G.O.A.T(aryn): Please tell me I'm not too late and you two haven't murdered each other or are in bed because I'm in the uber and on my way.

G.O.A.T(aryn): Actually, I'm with Brady...don't tell me anything.

Matt: 👍🏻

G.O.A.T(aryn): ...again? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!

"Roads must be clear because Taryn's on her way." He said, not replying to Taryn's text and looking back up at you.

"Was that so hard to do?" You asked, plugging your phone back into the charge on the counter.

"No, but I'm waiting for my $20 since you desecrated my precious skin," he laughed sarcastically as you stomped by him and into the living room. "Anything else, your highness?"

"In your dreams," you scoffed, turning back to face him as you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "And yes, actually there is. I want my underwear back."

His eyebrows raised and he smiled, licking his lips and dragging his tongue across his top teeth. "You mean the underwear that you shoved into my back pocket last night when we were still at the bar?"

Your face started to heat up and it only made him smile more knowing the effect the news was having on you. "I did not! I would never take off my underwear in a bar, let alone give them to you. I clearly remember coming home with my underwear still on, thank you."

He nodded, still smiling. "Keep telling yourself that, y/n."

"I will because it's the truth."

Matt leaned his head back and just laughed, he had no other reaction towards your twisted version of events . "You literally walked up to me, put your hand in my back pocket and said 'these are for you.' How the hell do you even think we got to this point last night?"

You crossed your arms, doing your damndest to try and make yourself seem so sure in your actions from the night before. "That's not how I remember it."

"Well, it's definitely how I remember it," Matt crossed his arms, trying not to laugh again as he stared at you, not backing down when you met his gaze, your eyes glaring slightly. He didn't last long, sighing and shaking his head before he left the living room and walked back into his room.

That was exactly how it happened, because it was the one thing that gave him the guts to even make a move towards you at the bar that was more than just taking a selfie.

"All I'm saying," Marky stopped, patting Matt's shoulder as he stopped to think, clearly drunk since his accent was thicker. "All I'm saying is that you-youuu should teach a goalie appreciation class for the league, du–" he hiccuped, nodding, "dude."

"And you should cut back on the shots," Matt laughed, drunk himself but definitely not as far gone as Marky, and that man had a tolerance higher than anything.

"Or maybe you should get drunk like him so you'll finally stop staring at y/n like a creeper," Rasmus chimed in, draping his arms over both teammates. "Seriously dude, it's painfully obvious you're into her."

"I'm not–"

"You totally are!" Marky smiled, holding out a full shot, handing another to Rasmus. "And for lying, you have to take a shot with me and Ras."

Matt stared at the both of them before rolling his eyes and sighing, taking the shot glass from his goalie's hand as their hollers mingled in with the rest of the background noise. "Skål, gents," Marky smiled, the three of them clinking their glasses together before tossing the shot back.

He shut his eyes, the strength of tequila never failing to take him by surprise. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before opening his eyes and reaching by Marky and putting his glass onto the bar before looking at his two teammates who were sharing a knowing glance. "What?"

"Nothing," Rasmus shrugged, turning towards the bar and raising his hand partially to get the bartenders attention before holding up four fingers and turning back. "Y/n, come have a shot with us!"

"Shots? I love shots!" You smiled, walking over and stopping against Matt. Not next to him, not a few steps away from him– right against him– you'd even looped your right arm through his and pressed yourself against him further. "What kind of shots? Taryn and I have been doing shots with our new friends," you smiled, clutching onto his arm as you nodded over your shoulder.

"Tequila." Marky smiled, looking from you to Matt. "And you know what they say about tequila."

"That it turns you into a fyllo," Rasmus smiled, handing out the individual shots, eyeing Matt and you. "Amongst other things with clothes..."

"Ras–" Matt mumbled, glaring at him.

A fyllo?" You asked, looking at Matt.

"Pisshead," Marky translated, nodding politely. "It gets you drunk."

"Oh," you blushed, holding your shot in your left hand. "Well, let's get drunk."

"I knew I liked you," Marky replied, holding his shot glass up. "Skål!"

The group all tossed the shots back, you being last and Matt smiling at your reaction– scrunched nose, eyes shut and shaking your head slightly before opening your eyes again. "Okay, no more tequila."

"You okay?" Matt asked, looking down at you as you squeezed his arm.

You smiled, nodding at him. "I'm fine, just drunk."

"I know, I can tell," he laughed, reaching out and plucking a boa feather from your hair. "Boa?"

"Bachelorette party are the friends we made, they let us join," you smiled, standing closer to him.

He went to ask Marky something until he felt a hand in his left back pocket and he instantly jumped, only to feel you squeeze his arm to gain his attention– your hand still in his pocket as you leaned up onto your toes and pressed your lips against his ear. "These are for you." You kissed his cheek before unlooping your arm from his and walking away and back towards Taryn and the group of girls you were hanging out with.

Matt's eyebrows furrowed as he looked back at his pocket, lifting his shirt up slightly and reaching into the jean pocket, feeling a silk material. His eyes widened as he tugged the material up slowly, only to reveal a red silk thong. He looked up to where you were standing with the group of girls, immediately making eye contact with you just as you winked and turned back around.

The butterflies in his stomach and chest never stopped fluttering the entire night.

He found his jeans on the floor at the end of the bed where they'd been kicked off and he picked them up, reaching into the back left pocket and pulling out the red silk thong that had started the entire night. Keeping the jeans in his hand, he walked back out of his bedroom and flinging the silk material at you.

"These what you were looking for? I found them in my pocket from last night," he turned the jeans around, showing you the inside out pocket. "Like I said."

"Sure," you huffed, bending down and picking up your underwear before shoving them into your purse. "Or you just stored them away last night."

His annoyance couldn't have been more obvious if he tried and he wasn't holding back anymore. "Regardless of what you think, I don't go around stealing girl's panties." He replied, shaking his head and waving towards you. "Let alone your panties."

"Says the guy with my missing panties in his pocket."

"You put them there when we were at the bar!" He laughed, shaking his head.

"I would never–"

Matt smiled, shrugging and holding up the pants. "Apparently you would. They were in my pocket, no?"

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a turn-on with how frustrated and annoyed you looked. Despite taking a shower, air drying your hair gave you a sexy, mess kind of bedhead. He'd never seen a girl look as beautiful as you did in last night's make-up the next morning and the way you kept trying to force your eyes to glare at him even though you were chewing on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling...he loved it.

But he was also tired of the back and forth. Every time he thought he was getting somewhere with you, it was like you would say something or do something and all of a sudden he'd find himself five steps back.

"Listen, y/n," he sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the couch. "As much as I love getting you all flustered and worked up, we need to settle this and just call last night what it was."

"Which is?"

He thought he saw something– a waiver in your stance or a quiver in your voice– something that would stop him from saying what he was getting ready to say...what he hated saying from the moment he first said it on the couch. He stared at you intensely, taking his time and trying to find any sort of sign that what happened between you both was the exact opposite of what you both had said it was.

But you gave him nothing and he couldn't see a single thing.

"A one-night stand," he replied, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands in his pajama pants pockets.

"A one-night stand?" You replied, keeping the neutral look on his face.

There is was again...he thinks. God, he felt like he was going crazy. That he was so desperate to find something in the way you looked at him, the way you stood there or the way you talked that was the exact opposite of what you were saying you wanted.

"Yeah, that's what it was, right?" He asked, looking at you. "Just two drunk friends who got a little too carried away and crossed the line a few times."

The knot in his throat was growing bigger and harder to swallow and he could feel his heart racing as he kept holding eye contact with you. He's known you for 20 years, most of his life and the one thing he ever disliked...was how good you were at masking your damn emotions. But he liked to think of himself as able to see through even your strongest facade...but he was failing.

Assuming you were even putting on one and every second he let pass that you stood there in front of him, so easily accessible to just grab your face and kiss you, it hurt just as much, if not more, knowing that it was exactly what you didn't want him to do.

"I mean, come on y/n, you know how awkward it was this morning between us," he could barely lift his hand up to motion between the two of you. "There's no way that this can become a thing. Besides, you're home in St. Louis and I'm here nine, ten months out of the year."

An excuse for an excuse. You gave him the 20 years one, he gave you the college one. Even though he knew you were graduating in five months and the opportunities of anything between the two of you working out would be endless.

"Yeah, it was pretty awkward. I mean, I literally tried to escape your apartment complex with seven feet of snow outside." You laughed and nodded your head and for a quick second he thought he heard it again.

That sign, that quiver or waiver of your defense. The one that he could take as his a-okay to try and push something more and he'd never felt more crazy before in his life. It didn't matter that he'd be back home tomorrow and you'd be right across the street like you always were– because the moment you left his apartment, the prime opportunity to reach for or explore whatever this is, whatever last night was...it would be gone or his chances severely diminished.

And for the first time, he found himself just feeling angry at last night. Not the night itself, but that stupid thing you said about one night stands– how easily you were able to just casually bring it up and brush it off. Sure, he wasn't a stranger to one-night stands and as much as he knew, you weren't either. You had a boyfriend your first year of college, but spent the last three single– and he could only assume that you had met guys at parties or bars, guys that turned into one-night stands you never talked to again, just like he's done.

But he hated the idea of being brushed off by you as nothing more than that and it broke his heart even thinking of doing the same...because you were so much more than that. Which is why from the moment he first heard you talking to yourself in the bathroom this morning, he'd been searching for some kind of sign that it all meant more to you. He wanted it so bad, wanted you to have enjoyed your night together like he had, wanted it to turn into something more...something real.

He wanted it so bad, he was so desperate to find that sign...that he was imagining it.

"So...we agree, right?" He asked, finally breaking the awkward silence that had settled between you two. "It's never happening again?"

"Yeah," you nodded, then shaking your head. "I mean, no, yes."

Maybe this was it? Was this the sign he'd been thinking he saw?"

"Yes, we agree that it's not happening again."

Well shit.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, nodding. "Okay...good."

"Good."

G.O.A.T(aryn): I'm here!

Matt: She's on her way.

He put his phone back into his pocket and sighed. "Taryn's out front. I can walk you down if you–"

You shook your head, grabbing your purse and plastic bag that he'd given you to put your clothes in from last night. "No, it's fine." You walked into the kitchen and grabbed your phone, shoving it into your purse. "The key Julian gave me is on the kitchen table.

'Stop her you stupid idiot!' He thought, watching you get ready to turn and leave as he froze in place. 'Stop her now!'

"Hey," he knocked himself out of his thoughts, reaching out and grabbing your elbow to stop you from turning around to leave. But now that he had you there...he wasn't sure what to say– the voice inside of him suddenly going silent as if to tell him it's all up to him now.

But he's the exact reason how they got to this position.

He swallowed the knot in his throat, looking at you. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He felt his heart ache when those were the words that came out of his mouth, that wasn't what he wanted to say and yet...he said it.

"I've got plans," you replied, shaking your head. "But I'll be there Christmas Eve."

"All right," he put on the best fake smile he could as he nodded his head, she was already dodging him and it's not like he could blame her. She might've been the first to brush it off as a one-night stand...but he was the one who sealed it. "You better not skip out on Christmas Eve. It's not like you haven't been coming to the part for the last 20 years or anything."

"Yeah, I'll be there," you replied, smiling faintly.

"Good, then you can help me prank Brady," he faked a laugh before pulling you into him and giving you a hug, never loosening his initial grasp so he could keep you there for as long as he could.

He stared at his ceiling, arms relaxed behind his head as he tried to convince himself that it had actually happened– the two of you had sex...multiple times...all over his apartment– but the one time that mattered most was the last, the one right here where he had you in his arms.

The bathroom light turned off and he watched you, still naked, rush back into his bed and crawl beneath his comforter. "Hey," he whined, reaching out and draping an arm over your waist before pulling you closer to him, holding you tight as he kissed your shoulder. "Much better."

"Never took you for the cuddling after sex type," you laughed, rolling onto your side and facing him as he pulled the comforter up higher to cover you up.

"I'm not," he lied, bringing his arm back beneath the comforter and draping it over your waist again, his hand resting on the small of your back and fingers fanning across your skin. "Normally, I get dressed again and either leave or just walk the girl out."

He totally was the cuddler type, but not just with anyone. This was really the first time he'd ever let the girl stick around long enough in his bed after the sex was done.

"And yetttttt," you smiled, reaching around him and wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'm still here...in your bed...and you were the one who initiated the cuddling."

"It's different with you," he whispered, left hand reaching back towards your head and brushing your hair back, his eyes gazing into your own. "With them, they're just girls who want to know what it's like to have sex with me or say they've had sex with a professional athlete.

And it was, God it was so different with you. He was far more invested in how you felt the entire time– were you okay? In pain? Was something uncomfortable? Did you want him to do something else? With most girls, he just did what he knew could get them off and then that was it. But with you, he wanted to give you the best, his best. To pour every bit of him and the feelings and love he's had for you for years, into you.

"So it's different because I've known you for so long?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and shaking your head slightly.

He nodded, trying to build up the nerve to say those very thoughts out loud as his eyes moved back and forth between your eyes and your lips, stalling and taking his time for his answer before bringing his right hand up from around your waist and up to your face, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip softly.

Matt waited only a few seconds after the moment that you finally hugged him back to pull away from the hug, not wanting to let his own facade fall or allow you to feel his racing heart and have you question it. Instead, he walked by you and opened the door, turning back. "Have a safe flight, let me know when you guys land."

"Bye Matthew," you replied, nodding politely before stepping outside into the hall and turning back around, giving him another nod. "And before you send Brady or Taryn to spy on me on your flight...I'm fine. This," you motioned between you and him. "This was nothing more than just...two friends who got too drunk and crossed a line. A one-time thing, just like we agreed on."

It was hearing you say it right back to him that crushed him. He'd been the one to say it and thought he was the one who sealed that fate...but it wasn't until you saw right through what he was going to do and then sealed the fate yourself– somehow making it hurt ten times worse. It hurt him enough that it left him speechless...so he just nodded.

He waited until you were halfway down the hall before he walked out of his door to watch you walk the rest of the way to the elevator, pressing the button and keeping your back to him until the doors opened and you walked inside, finally turning around to face him. He ignored the twinge in his chest as he struggled to raise his hand up to signal a wave goodbye– the hand feeling like deadweight as he held it there.

You copied him, a small smile on your lips as the doors started to close until they did and he was left staring down an empty hallway at two metal doors. His hand feeling heavier than it had been the moment he returned it to his side and turned back to walk into his apartment...alone.

"It's so much more than a one-night stand or casual hook-up," he whispered, eyes finally settling on yours. "It's real."

Matt locked the door behind him and down the short hallway further into his apartment, standing beside the dining room table as he looked around. The tv was still on, providing him with some background sound...but it was barely drowning out the silence you left behind in your wake. He shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, sighing as he went to walk towards the couch, trying not to think about seeing you leave in the elevator.

And just before he sat down, he paused, picturing you in the elevator again and then his stomach dropped. He turned back, grabbing the extra key off of the dining room table before shoving his tennis shoes on and grabbing his own key off of the hook where his car keys were before rushing out of his apartment and down the hall, pressing the elevator button frantically.

"Come on, come on, come on," he mumbled, looking over his shoulder towards where the stairwell was, contemplating just running down seven flights of stairs to try and beat the elevator and just when he turned to do it, the elevator doors opened.

He got in, immediately pressing the lobby button and then the close door button, feeling the elevator shake slightly from his own feet lightly bouncing against the floor. He wasn't going crazy thinking that there was a sign and not finding it– because there was. He was right about you putting up a facade and he was right about the small moment where you let it fall.

He just hoped he wasn't too late.

When the elevator reached the lobby, he ran through the metal doors as soon as they opened enough to where he could fit through, stopping mid way through the lobby to see if you and Taryn happened to be inside still.

"She just left," he turned to see Julian coming back from the office, carrying a new package of printer paper. "You just missed her though, maybe by thirty seconds? She said bye and a girl with brown hair was waiting for her in the lobby and they both left."

Matt sighed, looking back towards the double doors as he held the extra key in his hand within his sweatshirt pocket, spinning it in his right hand as he stared at the doors, picturing you once again, leaving in the elevator.

Your smile never reached your eyes. Anytime you genuinely and fully smiled...it always reached your eyes. But that smile in the elevator...it was fake, for show...one you put on just so he wouldn't come after you.

And he missed it.

"That was my sister," Matt said, turning away from the doors and towards Julian. "Here's my extra key, thanks for helping us out earlier."

"No problem," Julian replied, taking the key and putting it away with the rest of the residents extra keys. "Why doesn't your girlfriend have an extra key though?"

"My girlfriend?" Matt asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Julian nodded. "Yeah, you two stopped by last night before you went up. You introduced her as your girlfriend and that she was visiting from home...is she not?"

"Julian my man!" Matt smiled, pointing ahead of him to the tired looking front desk clerk. "They approve your vacation yet?"

"Last week," he sighed, looking away from the desk. "I'm leaving for Vancouver tomorrow night."

"That's awesome, I'm glad you can go home for Christmas," Matt replied as you laid your head against his shoulder. "Julian, this is y/n my girlfriend, she's visiting from home before we fly back for Christmas, so I figured I'd show her a good time tonight."

"Girlfriend?" You laughed, your arm wrapped around his waist. "I'm honored." You looked towards Julian, extending your hand. "Nice to meet you Julian, sorry for any chaos he's caused since living here."

"Nice to meet you too, y/n and it's nothing a fine can't fix," Julian joked, shaking your hand. "Did you guys have a good time tonight?"

"Way too many tequila shots," you nodded, holding onto Matt's bicep. "Never drink with NHL players and a bachelorette party in the same night."

Julian laughed, nodding his head. "Noted."

He could feel your hand slide beneath the bottom of his shirt, barely brushing your fingertips against his lower back and sending a chill up his spine as you kept doing it. "We should probably get upstairs," Matt nodded. "She's got a flight to catch tomorrow."

"Yep, don't want to be late even though my boyfriend isn't flying home till the day after," you replied, teasing on the word boyfriend as you looked at him. "Bye Julian, I hope to see you again."

"Goodnight you two," Julian laughed, looking at Matt before lightly shaking his head in a 'you're not slick, Matt' kind of response before working back at the desk.

"Yeah...she is." Matt sighed, nodded his head before patting his hand against the desk. "I'll see you later and have fun in Vancouver. Merry Christmas."

"You too, Matt."

He walked back to the elevator, walk in once the doors opened and scanning his own key card before pressing his floor. The ride up to his floor was quiet and lonely as he cursed himself for being stupid and not listening to the voice in his head when it told you to stop you from leaving. Once he got off at his floor, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out once she reached his door and unlocking the text from Marky.

Jacob Markstrom: Hey! A few of the guys are getting drinks tonight, you feel like joining before you go home tomorrow?

He unlocked his door, walking inside and kicking it slightly shut behind him, tossing both keys onto the dining room table. He looked up from his phone, taking in the silence around him and sighed, typing up his reply.

Matt: Yeah, just let me know when and where.

Matt thought that coming out with Marky, Rasmus and Adam would be fun like it was last night. He wasn't planning on drinking much, if even at all– but he just wanted to get out of the apartment and try to take his mind off of you and to stop replaying everything you said to him all day, dissecting your words and the way you said it.

He wanted to make himself feel better for totally misreading the situation, but there was no use because he was still feeling like shit even seven hours after you left his apartment. So he did indulge in a drink or two...or five– staying away from the shots that the three of them kept taking and instead sticking to bud light. He was too busy getting lost in his head and staring down at the hours old texts in the sibling group chat every few minutes.

Bro with the flow: Made it home. Dad says not to get drunk and miss your flight. Something about how Mom might actually miss you for once.

Matt: Glad to hear everyone made it home safe.

G.O.A.T(aryn): Yep we did. Brady and I will see you tomorrow.

Bro with the flow: Unless you get trashed and miss your flight...right? 🙂

He switched over to his messages, clicking on the separate one with Taryn.

Matt: Brady most likely tell me, but I know you will. Is y/n okay? She seemed off when she left.

G.O.A.T(aryn): Yep she's fine, just tired from traveling. Brady walked her home since it was icy and dark.

G.O.A.T(aryn): And her phone's broken, so don't try to text or call or anything.

G.O.A.T(aryn): 👍🏻

"Chucky," he looked up from his phone to see Marky waving at him to get his attention. "What's in the phone? Y/n?"

He shook his head, sighing and taking a sip from his beer. "No, just texting Brady and Taryn."

"How did things go last night with you guys?" Adam smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. "Ras and I saw you guys leave together. You go back to your apartment?"

Normally, Matt would've tried to fight the urge to smile but this time he didn't, the faint smile appearing on his face before he stood a chance. "We did, but it doesn't matter," he replied, shrugging. "I kind of fucked things up."

"But it's nothing you can't fix when you go home, right? You see her, she lives across from you." Rasmus, replied, motioning towards him. "Whatever you fucked up, just fix it. It's not that hard, Chuck."

Matt went to reply until he saw someone walking towards him from the corner of his eye and when he turned, he saw the girl with the shoulder length, light pink hair that had been staring at him from across the bar all night.

"Good game the other day boys," she smiled, stopping just at their table and resting her arms on it. "You ready for the break?"

"Desperate for it, actually." Marky replied, nodding at her. "What's your name?"

"Isabelle," she smiled, her eyes landing on Matt. "I was wondering if you wanted to dance?"

Normally he'd say yes. She was cute, confident and wasn't afraid of hiding the way she was looking at him as if she could already see them tangled up beneath his sheets. And he was slightly drunk, and a single guy with the need to get laid every once in a while.

But she wasn't you and after last night, he couldn't see himself hooking up with any girl that wasn't you...not anymore.

"Sorry, but I'm actually leaving," he said, not ignorant to the way that her confidence fell. "But...Marky here is a great dancer," he said, patting his teammate on the shoulder. "You can ask him. I'll see you guys later."

Matt left the bar without looking back, walking the short way home from the bar and nodding politely as Richard, the other guy who worked at the front desk since Julian left for Vancouver. By the time he got up to his apartment and walked in, he was exhausted and just walked straight back to his bedroom, kicking his shoes off and taking his jeans and shirt off, changing over into sweatpants and a sweatshirt before climbing into his bed.

He held his phone above his head, staring at the messages with you. Taryn said your phone was broke, but he knew it had some function since you were able to use venmo earlier. That's not to say that it couldn't have broken since then...but he'd still at least have to try and reach out– let you know that he was thinking of you.

Matt: Brady and Taryn said you guys made it home safely, I'm glad to hear.

He stared at the small delivered appear beneath the message, his heart racing again as he typed...deleted...typed...deleted...sighed and typed some more before sending another message.

Matt: I know you said you have plans tomorrow, but if those happen to fall out...I'll be home around noon and maybe we can hang? If not, I'll see you Christmas Eve. Goodnight, y/n.

He plugged his phone in before placing it down onto the bedside table and then rolling over onto his side, staring at the empty side of his bed you'd been lying in hours earlier.

"Y/n...are you awake?" He whispered, lifting his head up off of his pillow and trying to sneak a look over your shoulder.

"No," you mumbled, your thumb brushing against his hand that was resting on your stomach. "Go to sleep, Matty. 'm tired...too much good sex."

He laughed, seeing the small smile on your face before he laid his head back down, pulling you further into him and staring at the back of your head as the sounds of your mingled breathing filled the room. When he felt your thumb stop moving against his hand and your stomach rising and falling in a slow, deep pattern beneath his palm, he leaned himself up again.

"Y/n?" He spoke, thumb brushing against your stomach. "You still awake?"

He was met with your steady breathing in reply and sighed, reaching over with his left hand and brushing the hair away from your face so he could see you better. "I know you gave me shit earlier for teasing you and trying to drag everything out and if you weren't such an impatient nutcase then I could've explained why."

Matt felt the small knot form in his throat as he looked down at your sleeping form, feeling ashamed that the only way he'd be able to say it was when you were fast asleep...most likely never even hearing it.

"It's not that I was teasing you or anything...but I just wanted to," he groaned, shaking his head. "I feel stupid, but I just wanted to savor the moment, you know? I've been waiting for this moment forever– I never thought that it would happen and then all of a sudden it was...and I just wanted to take my time. It was special to me because you're..." he rested his chin on your shoulder, sighing. "You're special to me. So fucking special and I...I love you."

He held his breath, himself shook alone that he had said the words out loud and then the shame that came soon after when the realization came in that he said it when you couldn't hear him. He bent his head down, kissing your cheek and then your shoulder before laying back down and keeping you spooned against him, fast asleep and peacefully.

Matt rolled back onto his back, sighing as he stared up at his ceiling. Maybe Rasmus was right and he could try and fix it when he went home. He only hoped that it wasn't too late.

The universe was pissed at him.

That or he just had a whole lot of hellish coincidences happen to him on his journey home. It stared with how his alarm clock he set yesterday afternoon...never went off, and he woke up with five minutes to spare before he was supposed to leave the airport. Even if he was late it wouldn't have mattered because his flight was delayed.

Again...and again and he was close to telling him parents that he might not even make it home. But thankfully, five hours after his initial departure time he was heading home. Then someone switched seats behind him cause the five year old that belonged to the couple behind him had somehow gotten a ticket for the seat three rows behind them– and said five year old spent the majority of the flight kicking the back of Matt's seat every half hour.

It was cold. It was bumpy. His air pods had died and he couldn't even fall asleep if he wanted to because he was too anxious thinking about the upcoming days being around you to relax long enough to fall asleep.

By the time they landed and he went to meet Brady outside, he was absolutely exhausted and just wanted to go home and take a nap. Of course though, staying on brand with the entire experience, traffic was shitty and it took them even longer to get home while the car ride was filled with sporadic silence in between Matt asking if Emma made it home okay to her family and about how Josh and Tim were doing.

When they were driving up towards the house, he sat up in his seat, trying not to be so obvious when it came to looking at your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Your car was in the driveway, which meant you were most likely home...but you weren't outside. Brady pulled into the driveway, putting the car into park and turning it off, the both of them getting out just as Taryn was coming down the front porch steps.

"Don't get too excited, I'm not here to greet you," she said, finishing up buttoning her coat. "I'm only going across the street to y/n's. I'll see you guys tomorrow, oh and mom and dad went to the store, they'll be back."

"Are you the plans she had?" Matt asked, grabbing his bag from the backseat and standing in front of her.

"I don't think she had any plans," Taryn replied, shaking her head. "She just texted me like ten minutes ago saying she was bored and asked if I wanted to stay over and have a girls night, so I'm going."

"I thought her phone was broken?"

"Macbook, Matt," she replied, brushing by him. "See you guys tomorrow!"

He swallowed heavily, nodding his head and accepting the fact that maybe making it up to you wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. If you could read and reply to texts on your computer, then that meant you had completely ignored the text he sent you last night...because you never even replied to it. "Cool uh...have fun."

Brady was already on the front porch as Matt walked up behind him, following him into the house and heading towards the stairs. "I'm gonna take a nap in my room really quick, tell mom and dad I'm here if they come back and I'm still napping."

He walked up the stairs and down to his room, opening the door and walking inside before dropping his bag onto the floor and walking over to his bed, plopping down face first onto the comforter.

"Do you know how bad you fucked up?" He picked his head up and looked towards the door, seeing Brady standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "I mean...really, do you know or are you just clueless?"

"What are you talking about, Brady?" He sighed, sitting up and turning towards him.

"Oh, okay, so you're just stupid, got it." Brady replied, waving him off. "Y/n, Matt. I'm talking about y/n and how you were the biggest dick and just brushed her off this morning as one of you're random one-night stands."

He pressed his fists on his bed beside you, exhaling heavily. "She told you?"

"I'm her best friend, of course she told me." He crossed his arms again, a look that was anger crossed with disappointment on his face. "Taryn and I did all of that hard work, just for you to fuck it all up again."

"I'm sorry, what?" Matt asked, shaking his head. "What hard work? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know if maybe you're lacking some brain cells in that thick head of yours or what– but y/n likes you, Matt. She's been in love with you since we were kids."

"No, because she's the one who brushed it off as a one-night stand first! That same night, she was all 'why are we talking about my one-night stands? They don't mean anything–''"

"She doesn't do one-night stands, Matthew. Trust me, I've tried to tell her to put herself out there, but she's interested in relationships, not hook-ups." Brady replied, rolling his eyes. "And even after that shit you pulled two years ago, she's still basically in love with you."

"What did I do?" Matt asked, raising his voice slightly as he stood up and furrowed his eyebrows, looking at his brother. "'Cause for all I know she just decided out of the blue to try and ice me out. So instead of being a vague asshole about it, why don't you tell me?"

Brady just looked at him, squinting slightly as if he was trying to gauge whether or not Matt was telling the truth. "You don't know?"

"Obviously not, otherwise I wouldn't be asking you and I clearly can't ask her 'cause she's ignoring me."

"That team Christmas part at Gio's? You took Taryn and y/n with you since they flew up there to watch your guys' game before flying back home with you the next day?"

Okay?" He replied, shrugging his shoulders. "What about it? Nothing happened there with her."

"She heard what you said to Sam, Matt," Brady replied, disappointment in his eyes. "How you basically told him she didn't mean anything to you all she is was my friend? Any of that ring a bell?"

He didn't need to think hard, because he knew exactly what Brady was talking about. You and Taryn had tagged along with him to the team Christmas party at the Giordano's place and were having a great time. He introduced you to his teammates you'd yet to meet, though you'd met most of them when you came up for his NHL debut years earlier and then again when Brady made it to the league and played against Matt for the first time– skipping your classes to make the trip. All of his teammates knew you were a childhood friend and many of them thought you were more– but the last thing he wanted to happen was them making a big deal of it when you had broken up with your boyfriend months prior and he was about to spend a few days at home with you.

Sam, in particular, was one who really wouldn't let it go.

"I'm just saying, Chucky–"

"I don't care what you're just saying, Sam," Matt replied, walking into the kitchen to grab himself another beer from the cooler. "I'm telling you that I don't."

"And I'm telling you that you do and it's painfully obvious to everyone here that you do," he stood next to Matt, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you just make a move? Based on how you can't stop looking at her like some creeper, and the way that she obviously acts around you we all know that there's something between you guys. Especially you," he took a sip from his cup, shaking his head. "You've got it bad, just like Usher says."

Matt rolled his eyes, bending down and grabbing another beer from the cooler on the kitchen floor. Pretending like he didn't stop the bud light just barely beneath the layer of ice and continuing to search for another bottle to give himself enough time so Sam wouldn't see the way he was starting to blush. The last thing he needed was for Sam to call him out on it and then drunkenly blurt it out to anyone within earshot.

That wasn't the way he wanted anyone, let alone you, finding out how Sam was right and that he did hold feelings for you.

"If you're so interested in talking about her, why don't you talk to her?" Matt asked, standing up and opening his beer with his shirt.

"Because I'm not going to go over and flirt with her when you've clearly got feelings," Sam laughed, smiling. "I wouldn't want to break your heart when I steal her away."

"You wouldn't be stealing her away and you wouldn't be breaking my heart, Sam." Matt replied, leaning back against the counter as they kept their backs to the party. "There's nothing there to steal."

Sam took a long swing of his beer before dropping the empty bottle into the bottle bin before reaching down and grabbing himself another drink. "So you're telling me that if I were to ditch you right now, go up to y/n, charm the hell out of her because we all know how charming I am and she ended up coming home with me...you wouldn't be the least bit bothered by it?"

His mind went there– picturing you and Sam flirting during the party amongst the rest of the team, Sam making you laugh, the both of you leaving the party together and then him and Taryn having to pick you up the next morning before going to the airport, you in some of Sam's clothes. His mind went there and he felt the grip on his bottle tighten as the cold water on the glass chilled his hand. His jaw clenched just barely, but he refused to let anything show and fought like hell to keep a neutral look on his face.

"Why would I be bothered by it? She means nothing to me. The only 'relationship' I have with her is that she's my younger brother's friend, and as far as I'm concerned, her going home with you is probably better than her staying here."

He didn't mean it. But he needed to say something to get Sam to back off at least for tonight. Tonight, all he wanted to do was just...have fun with teammates and enjoy the time he got to spend with you before he went on with his season and you went back to school.

Sam just smiled, taking another sip before nodding his head and patting Matt's shoulder. "Sure, Chucky. You go ahead and convince yourself of that, because you're sure as hell not convincing any of us."

Matt sighed, letting his shoulders sink. "Fine, I don't mean it. But my brother's had a thing for her since they were kids–"

"Your brother's practically engaged, I doubt that childhood crush still exists. Stop using him as an excuse." Sam leaned against the counter, nodding at him. "Do you like y/n?"

"No–"

"Matt come on, stop lying to yourself, man," Sam replied, starting to get frustrated with him.

"I said no because I don't just like her dude," he stared down at his beer bottle, crossing his left arm across his torso and resting his right elbow on top of it as he laughed dryly to himself and looked at Sam. "I've been in love with her for years."

"But I didn't–" Matt shook his head, feeling the panic start to rise. "I didn't mean it! She missed what I said afterwards–"

"You still said it and she heard it. It doesn't matter if you didn't mean it because to her, you did. But Taryn and I know she still has feelings for you, which is exactly why we pushed you two together that night at the bar."

"What?"

Brady laughed, shaking his head as he motioned towards him. "Come on, Matt. You really think that y/n would come onto you without us having to do anything? Because surprise, Matt, she wouldn't 'cause she still thinks that all you see her as is that kid with pigtails and a retainer who's lived across the street."

"But she literally put her thong in my back pocket."

"First of all, ew, I don't need to know that you touched her panties thanks," Brady replied shaking his head. "Second, she only did it because Taryn looped her in with the bachelorette's party of truth or dare and she dared her to do it. Why do you think we started off ordering so many shots when we first got there? When do I ever order shots to begin with."

Matt shook his head, pointing at Brady. "So you and Taryn–"

"Yes. The only reason why you got laid is because we literally nudged y/n in your direction and the you towards her after you completely annihilated that bridge with her. So you're welcome for getting you laid, I'll take my payment in the form of that new watch I sent you a picture of as a Christmas present suggestion."

His entire world was spinning and the dots were connecting. You had seemed so disinterested in even hanging around him unless there were other people in the group with the two of you, at least until Brady's third round of shots within five minutes. Then you'd started to loosen up and branched off with your own drinks until it was time to take those pictures where you'd warmed up to him slightly.

Then you and Taryn had split off to hang out with the bachelorette group, but Matt couldn't take his eyes off of you, telling everyone it was because he was trying to make sure that you and Taryn were okay...but really he was staring at you.

"Stare a little harder and I think you might burn a hole in her head," Brady whispered, coming up to the table beside him. "Seriously though, it's starting to look a little creepy."

"I'm just making sure they're okay," Matt replied, taking a sip of his beer. "Sue me."

"Yeah, but you've been staring from the moment they walked off. Just admit it, dude. You like y/n, it won't kill you."

He turned his head to disagree, only to hear cheering coming from the area where you and Taryn were. And when he looked back, you and who he assumed was the bride to be, were in the middle of a half circle. You held your hands together behind your back, licking the whipped cream off of the side of the shot glass and then the top before sinking your mouth over the glass and tossing your head back, finishing the shot.

"Jesus Christ," he gulped, watching as you grabbed the glass with your left hand, smiling and putting it back onto the bar before high-fiving the bride to be.

"I'm just making sure they're okay," Brady mimicked, knocking Matt in the back of the head. "Tell that to the obvious boner you have in your pants."

Matt immediately looked down, only for Brady to burst into laughter, his left arm leaning against the table supporting him. "Shut up, Brady."

"Oh my God," he stood up straight, shaking his head. "You basically just drooled watching her do a blowjob shot, Matt. Grow some and do something about it before you die from the clear sexual tension between the both of you. She likes you, you like her," he smiled, patting his older brother's cheek. "Do something about it instead of watching her like a stalker."

"Brady wait–" Matt said, stepping towards his door as he watched his brother start to walk out of his room. "You have to help me."

"Help you?" Brady laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, how do I fix it?" He asked, grabbing onto his elbow to keep him from leaving. "I need to fix it, because I...you're right about what I feel for her."

"Jesus Christ Matt, you can't even say it to yourself," Brady replied, removing his arm from Matt's hold and shaking his head. "Fix it yourself, because God knows if I tried to help you'd probably ruin it like you did the last time I helped."

He felt helpless as he watched Brady leave his room, frozen for only a few seconds before walking out after him. "Just tell me if I have a chance to fix it...if I try tomorrow o-or Christmas– is there a chance I didn't totally fuck everything up?"

Brady turned around at the top of the stairs and looked at him, laughing dryly. "There's always going to be a chance, Matt. She's been in love with you since we were kids, why do you think my crush on her never went anywhere? Because I knew she liked you. You could probably push her off the boat in the middle of the lake and leave her stranded and she'd still be in love with you. You do no wrong, not to her."

He went to walk down the stairs, stopping and turning back to face Matt with a sigh. "But don't go after her and try to fix it just because you feel bad. She's my best friend, Matt and I love her to death, so if you're just going to string her along then no, I won't help you. But if you genuinely are ready to finally tell her how you feel...then yeah, maybe I'll help you."

"I'm serious about her Brady," he nodded, letting his hands drop to his sides. "I...I spent all day yesterday trying to figure out a way to talk to her about what happened, to tell her...but I got in my own head and took one thing she said too far and crushed it. I tried to run after her when she left my apartment...but she was already gone. I'm serious about her, Brady. Please help me?"

Matt could see the argument Brady was having with himself inside his head. Yeah, Matt was his brother and they've been close since they were born...but you were his best friend since the two of you were toddlers. Two peas in a pod growing up side by side, your friendship never wavering even when Brady left for Michigan, Boston and Ottawa while you stayed here in St. Louis and then went to the University of Missouri to play soccer.

Brady sighed, rolling his eyes before nodding. "I'll help–"

"Yes!" Matt smiled, running towards him and hugging his brother. "Thank you, thank you–"

"But," Brady huffed, nudging Matt away while trying not to smile. "If you fuck it up again this time, then I'm not helping anymore. And if you somehow break her heart even more, though I'm not quite sure how that's possible...then I'm team y/n. Got it?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Matt nodded, hugging Brady again. "Okay, um, so like...what do we do?"

"I'm ordering food, you can come down after your nap and we'll talk." Brady replied, walking down the stairs.

Matt sighed and walked back to his room, closing the door behind him before taking a deep breath and exhaling with a smile. He saw movement coming from outside of his window and walked over, looking through his opened blinds to see you and Taryn walking out of your house and to your already running car, the both of you laughing and smiling at whatever you were talking about.

He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw you standing by your drivers side door and unlocking your car, saying something to Taryn before getting into the car. He watched a you guys pulled out of the driveway and down the street before walking over to his bed and lying down.

Matt ruined whatever chance he had with you yesterday, but with Brady's good knowledgable word...he knew that he still had a small chance at trying to fix everything. And he had two more shots to fix it– tomorrow at his family's Christmas Eve party...and Christmas morning.

And he was determined to make it the best Christmas Eve and Christmas you'd ever had.

477 notes · View notes