#new york islanders imagine

[senditcolton]

hiiiiiii my beautiful friend!!! I’m sure I speak for a lot of us when I say that I would love a check in on we’re a bad idea matty—whatever that means for you and where you vision they are now! (request 1 of ???)

- @comphy-and-cozy

Who Are We to Fight the Alchemy?

a/n: i will gladly write anything for this universe because i love it so much and i will happily write anything for you @comphy-and-cozy. if you couldn't tell from the title, a Taylor Swift mashup inspired the final part of this series so it's only fitting that a Taylor Swift mashup inspired this fic.

Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: brother's teammate, references to alcohol consumption, but mostly just pure romantic fluff!!!

Things change.

It was a statement that brought pain and heartache. But it was also a statement that sometimes brought about such joy and happiness. You were thankful to say that in the past year, the latter was more applicable to your life.

The amount of change that you had experienced felt astronomical whenever you sat down and tried to quantify it. In just a few short months, you went from being miserable in Los Angeles, trying to get over a man that broke your heart and left you reeling to being happy back in New York City and coupled with that same man. A man who had changed even more than you could’ve ever imagined.

Matt Martin used to be a bad idea. Last summer, when the two of you reconnected, he was a surprise. Now, you could safely say that he was one of the best things in your life.

It was jarring at first. There was a part of you that was still distrustful, remembering who he used to be: someone who wanted you to himself but never wanted to claim you. But that summer night, he proved how much he had changed and how much he wanted you. Completely. And he had continued to prove it every day afterwards.

That wasn’t to say the transition was easy. There was a lot of bridges to cross: emotionally, physically, metaphorically. It took a while for you to believe that Matt meant what he said and what he did; that it wasn’t all just an overcorrection brought on by guilt or that it wasn’t just another elaborate ploy to get his hooks back into you. But the one thing that convinced you was how patient Matt was. He understood your reservations, took responsibility for how he treated you, and gave you as much space as you needed to process – even if that space was thousands of miles.

You went back to Los Angeles. Mostly for realistic reasons, like your job and your lease. But you would be lying if you didn’t think of it as a test for Matt; to see if he would wait for you, to see if he still wanted you.

And he did, in every single way.

That was enough for you to take the final leap, move back to New York, and fully commit to being his, the way he was ready to commit to being yours.

That was six months ago. Now, you were Matt Martin’s girl.

It was a massive mind-blowing change, one that you never expected. You had wished for it when you were younger, the massive crush you had on your brother’s teammate making you a fool. You desired it that winter you went to a bar with your brother and ended up leaving with Matt. You craved it every moment, during the stretch of hookups and illicit meetings after charity galas and nights out and engagement parties. You resigned that fantasy when you left for Los Angeles. You tried to banish the dream from your mind while you were underneath California’s sun.

But when you saw him again at Scotty and Emily’s wedding, the fantasy of being his resurfaced. Only this time, it wasn’t just something that you wanted. Matt wanted it just as much, if not more. And now, it was no longer a dream. It was your reality.

You were his. He was yours. Something that everyone in your life knew.

You had told your brother Scotty and sister-in-law Emily shortly after the two of you became ‘official’ and were happily surprised when they seemed okay with it. You were sure that their reaction would’ve been much different if they knew the entire timeline of your relationship with Matt Martin (something you were unsure if you would ever tell them). Your friends from college knew, although they were more skeptical, having known part of the tryst you and Matt had shared. Eventually, the news spread to the whole of the New York Islanders, as well as their wives and girlfriends, who welcomed you into a whole new world, one that you never experienced when you were just Scotty’s sister.

But the person that knew before anyone else did was Mat Barzal; the person who knew the entire history of you and Matt Martin and the only person who had one foot in each of your worlds. He was the most supportive of the change, a fact that was slightly surprising but not at all that shocking when you thought about it. You even sometimes thanked him, for giving you both the necessary push that allowed you to reconnect.

While everyone in you and Matt’s personal circles knew, you hadn’t – quote unquote – gone public with your relationship. The gossip blogs had deduced that Matt Martin may have been taken off the market but there was nothing confirmed by you or Matt or anyone else. Whenever you went to Islanders games or appeared in pictures with the other WAGs, you were still known as Scotty’s sister. There was never an implication that you were something more.

And when the New York Islanders had clinched their spot in the playoffs and the discussion of the ever-important WAG jacket began, you told Matt and the girls that you weren’t going to wear his last name on your back; a boundary that Matt respected and the girls playfully ignored. Something that you realized when you were invited to the ‘jacket reveal’ party (out of principle, of course) and had a large package placed on your lap.

In the moment, you were a little annoyed at them for ignoring your wishes, even though you knew that they did it with the best intentions. But now, in the friends and family box at UBS Arena, the jacket wrapped around your frame and your hands clasped in Lyla and Emily’s, you were happy that they did.

It was game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals after all. And the New York Islanders were less than five minutes and one goal away from reaching the peak of the mountain.

Your gaze is glued to the ice, your knuckles turning almost as white as the surface that the Islanders and the Jets were zipping across. You felt as if your breathing stopped every time Winnipeg entered the zone, also vying for that single goal that would bring the Cup to Canada instead. You flinch as Mark Scheifele took a shot at the net, your muscles only slightly relaxing when Ilya made the save. The Jets manage to secure the puck and throw it to back to the point where Josh Morrisey waits. Morrisey attempts to pass to his teammate Vilardi, but a miscommunication causes the puck to bounce off his skate instead.

The black disc sits in the expanse ice until someone scoops it up. And you can’t stop the screams of his name that escape your mouth as Matt Martin skates down the ice, his focus on the net in front of him, a Vezina trophy winning goalie between him and the deciding goal.

The puck flies off his stick and you swear you can feel the entirety of UBS Arena holding its breath. Until the rising shot sails by Connor Hellebuyck’s blocker and hits the netting. Then the arena seems to explode.

The goal horn coupled with the cheers from seventeen thousand people is deafening. However, it all seems like background noise to the way you’re screaming, your pure excitement not even muffled by the pile of bodies that rush over to hug you. You swear you can feel tears in your eyes as the girls pull away, your gaze connecting with the giant screen hanging over the ice as you watch Matt skate by the benches, receiving aggressively excited fist bumps and helmet pats from his teammates.

The reality that there was still two minutes left in the game washes over everyone quickly, the seasoned fans realizing that while things change quickly in life, they can change even quicker in hockey. But as the clock counts down, the nervous energy slowly transforming into that of pure excitement, your eyes scan the arena to find the number 17.

You see him on the bench, his body almost draped over the side as the Islanders hold the puck against the boards, the seconds dwindling down.

Three. Two. One.

The sound of the final buzzer almost makes your knees drop out from under you, your body wanting to collapse in pure relief. You don’t have the opportunity to because before you can blink, Lyla is gripping your shoulders, shaking you with pure joy.

“They fucking did it!!!” she screams in your face and you can do nothing except pull her into a bear-hug as the excitement from the girls, the fans, the players, the coaches, everyone fills the arena. Your eyes flick up to the Jumbotron to see the mass of blue jerseys surrounding the net as the team embraces.

You watch content as the traditionally handshake line happens, your eyes forever glued to Matt as he skates around, occasionally being pummeled with hugs and cheers befitting the game-winning goal scorer. The Conn Smythe trophy is brought out and you hug Lyla tight, cheering almost as loudly as she did when Mathew is announced as the winner.

When the Stanley Cup is brought out, you think it’s a miracle that you can even hear the commissioner over the sound of cheering – a noise that only becomes louder when Anders lifts the trophy over his head.

The girls slowly start filtering out, bustling to get down to the ice but you wait until Matt gets the Cup handed off to him, not wanting to miss the moment he holds the greatest trophy in all of sports for the first time. If you thought there were tears in your eyes when he scored or when the final buzzer went off, there was no denying their presence now as you watch Matt skate around the ice with the silver chalice held proudly over his head.

You feel Emily gently tug at your hand, pulling your attention away from the celebration and pulling you into the hallway and down into the bowels of UBS Arena. The ice is almost blinding as you walk out onto it, your arm linked in Lyla’s. She quickly abandons you when she spies Barzy, running towards him and enveloping him in a massive loving embrace, leaving you to catch up.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Conn Smythe winner,” you tease as you walk up to him, his arm securely wrapped around Lyla’s waist. His grin is wide as he pulls you into a hug. “Congrats Barzy. You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he mutters to you, letting you go as you step back. You watch his eyes glance over your frame, registering the material wrapped around your torso. “Nice jacket.”

You laugh, the joy in your eyes reflected in his – your insanely supportive best friend.

“Have you seen him yet?” Mat asks, his question causing your eyes to dart around the arena.

“Not yet, but I’m sure he’s getting interviewed or something. I’ll just congratulate Scotty while I wait.”

“Does he know? About this?” he says, gesturing to your body. You reply with a playful shake of your head and Barzy whistles. “This will surely be a night he’ll remember forever.”

You giggle, Mat’s statement not even close to an exaggeration, even without the innuendo that one could easily attach. You give him a quick wave as you wander away, taking a moment to spy Emily standing next to Scotty and your parents. You run up to him, head butting him in the chest in greeting – a ritual that started when you were younger that the two of you continued to this day. Scotty embraces you, smiling as he takes in the moment.

You are laughing with your family when you feel the weight of someone’s gaze attaching to your frame. It is a slow turn of your head until your eyes connect with the ocean blue irises of Matt. You can see his chest rising in heavy breaths, the adrenaline of the moment still buzzing through his body. But the thing that nearly stops your heart is his expression; a mixture of shock and wonder so clearly painted on his face.

You smile, your attention falling completely from your family as you drift away, walking slowly towards him. He coasts up to you and you’re still unsure if his disbelief is related to winning the Cup or to the sight of his last name on your back until he stops in front of you.

“What – ” he begins to say, his hands reaching out to trace down your arms, fingers gliding over the material. His almost hesitance makes you giggle, a smile pulling at his lips in response.

“Surprised?” you laugh, before twirling slowly, the weight of Matt’s gaze raking across your frame undeniable. “It looks good on me, don’t you think?”

The confirmation Matt gives isn’t verbal at first. Instead, he simply lifts you into his arms, your legs instinctively hook around his hips. One of his hands flies into your hair and tugs you forward until your lips press together. The energy and excitement that had been sparking around the arena seems to funnel directly into the kiss. The way your body was buzzing had nothing to do with the glasses of white wine that you had consumed in the past hour and everything to do with the feeling of Matt’s lips against yours.

He finally breaks the kiss and sets you down on the ice, keeping you wrapped in his arms as he stares at you with just as much reverence as he looked at the Stanley Cup.

“You look fucking fantastic,” he mutters and you can’t stop the laugh at the bluntness of his statement.

“I thought I should dress up for you,” you muse, your hand lifting to brush away a few of the sweat-soaked stands of hair from his forehead.

“Glad you did. I think you were my lucky charm.”

“If that’s so, then why didn’t you sweep every series?” you tease, the joke falling from your lips.

“Because the universe needed to know that you were mine.”

The seriousness of his words has you pausing, your eyes looking into his, seeing the sincerity and relief reflecting in his pupils. You realized the gravity of the situation. What you were wearing… it wasn’t just a jacket with his last name sewn between your shoulder blades. It was a confirmation to him, to the team, to the fans, to the world that you were his, even after everything that lead the two of you to this moment.

It was a symbol of your commitment, your trust, your love. It was a public declaration that you were his. Completely.

You could never resist the pull of him, even before this moment, and you certainly can’t stop it now as you lean in and press your lips against his again in a kiss that was just as – if not more – passionate as the last.

“I think I’ve been yours long before I put this jacket on,” you whisper to him, your quiet confession clearly heard as Matt pulls you impossibly tighter against his body.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he replies, a remark that he has made a dozen times before and one that you never tired of hearing. You step back, the playful smirk appearing on your lips.

“Even now? After you scored the goal that made you a Stanley Cup champion?”

“There’s absolutely no comparison,” he asserts, lifting your chin to kiss you again.

Things change, that much was true. They morph and transform, get created and destroyed. What you and Matt shared had shifted more than you could possibly imagine. But it had changed for the better. The connection you two shared was the purest form of alchemy; taking something sordid and turning it into pure gold.  

tagging the "we're a bad idea" babes: @texanstarslove @smileysvech @laurenairay @dissonannce @cowboybarzy @cellythefloshie @provokedgoalie @m00nlightdelights @tkachvkmatthew @cixrosie @alwaysclassyeagle @geospatialharmony

[prettytoxicrevolver]

August | Mathew Barzal

wc. 2.7k

"August slipped away into a moment in time, cause it was never mine. "

You had always kept an eye on Mat Barzal’s budding career. 

Growing up with the up and coming hockey player you always knew Mat as the dorky kid in your Algebra class. However, when he was drafted by the New York Islanders in 2015, you couldn’t help the glances towards his career every now and then. Everyone saw him as a hometown super star and you weren’t immune to the affects of celebrities unfortunately. 

You had stayed in your hometown, wanting to help out your parents as they started getting older and you found a teaching job not too far away too. It was the perfect balance and you were happy with your summers off and free time. You subconsciously knew the hockey season had ended in the middle of April overall and when the Islanders were knocked out of playoffs at the end of the month, your mind had wandered to Mat once more, and you couldn’t help the casual google search. 

When you discovered that he had plans to come home from the summer you were intrigued. Why come back to your hometown after traveling all over the United States and having more than enough money to travel all over the world? Of course, you wouldn’t find the answer to that until later. 

You didn’t expect to see Mat around your hometown. It was small but not small enough for you to run into a boy you hadn’t seen in years. You didn’t even expect for him to recognize you and yet you still did it anyway. 

You were driving to the beach, wanting a break from everything and to just sit with the wind blowing through your hair and your book in your hands. It had to be close to midnight and your habit of not being able to sleep was creeping up on you again. You didn’t expect to see anyone else on the road at this point but you could recognize him a million miles away. 

You’re still not sure what prompted it, but you found yourself slowing down on the road. 

“Mat?” you called and watched as he paused in his step and you laid on the breaks in your car till you were at a full stop. 

You watch with curious eyes as Mat walks towards your car before leaning over and peering into your passenger side. When he spots you, a look of recognition and then slight shock washes over him. 

You can’t help the light laugh that washes over you at his shock, a reaction to the absurdness of the Mat Barzal being in your hometown. 

“Oh my god,” you let out quietly and Mat tilts his head at the words. “Get in.” 

You gesture for Mat to hop in your car and you’re surprised even by your own actions. Mat takes it in stride though, climbing into your best up old car and clicking his seatbelt like this whole interaction was completely normal. 

“Let’s drive,” he finally responds and you step on the gas. It’s quiet for a moment as you drive and eventually you turn to look at him. 

“How have you been?” you ask, the question feeling odd but a glance at Mat shows him nodding in response. 

Your original route towards the beach is paused opting to just drive around your small town as you and Mat catch up. You tell him about what you’ve been doing since high school, how college was and how your job now is. He tells you all about the NHL and training and how lucky he has been to play professionally. 

“I’ve kept track of your career,” you mention as nonchalantly as you can afford. 

“Really?” Mat says and he can’t help the jolt of happiness that hits him at your words. 

“Vaguely. You’re supposed to have a 50 goal season this year or something?” you say but there’s a note of teasing in your voice. 

“Something like that,” he grins back at you and that smile has your heart zapped. 

“Shit I’m almost out of gas,” you curse quietly. 

You look over to Mat who offers an almost imperceptible shrug and you nod slightly. You start to head in the direction of your apartment, realizing that it’s almost 2 in the morning. You didn’t even feel the tiredness in your body just yet. 

When you get to your apartment, you tell Mat to keep quiet since your roommate was definitely asleep already. You both sneak in, collapsing onto your bed as Mat shuts the door behind him. He relaxes next to you, continuing the conversation you started in the car. 

Your eyes trail his features as he talks and you’re suddenly struck at how beautiful the man in front of you was. He was damn near a Greek god, chiseled features, bright brown eyes, flowy hair that falls over his eyebrows occasionally. He could have been a model if he wasn’t a hockey player. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” you blurt out, feeling all of 16 again staring at him. 

Mat nods in response and you take a deep breath, leaning closer as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. You try not to over think this, reminding yourself of the unspoken tension surrounding the two of you ever since he got into your car. 

When your lips ghost over his you can’t help the exciting pound of your heartbeat that only goes crazier when Mat pushes forward, truly connecting your lips. Your hand tangle in his hair as he carefully maneuvers you onto your back. His knee is pressed between your legs and his presence is so overwhelming you feel like you can’t breathe. 

He pulls back, granting you much needed air and after placing a few kisses on your exposed neck, he looks you in the eyes again. 

“Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly and you flush under his intense gaze. 

“I’ve never,” you trail off, the implication of your silence saying everything else. Your inexperience rolling off you in waves that Mat takes in strides. 

“But yes,” you tell him nodding and he smiles and meets your lips once more. 

The next morning you’re awoken by movement and a feeling of confusion takes over until you see Mat laying next to you and your cheeks flush at the memories of last night. As your eyes gaze over his features, you’re hit with the question what now? You had never done anything like that before and you gave it to a boy you went to school with and connected again with after one night? What were you thinking? 

Before you can spiral any further, Mat wakes up turning to see you and there’s an unreadable look in his eyes. 

“Good morning,” you whisper and Mat smiles lightly. 

“Morning,” his voice is rough from sleepy and the scratch in his tone sends a shockwave through you. 

“What time is it?” He asks, now sitting up and reaching for his phone. When he checks it, his expression changes quickly to one of frustration. 

“Ah fuck,” he curses and you tilt your head in his direction, a form of a question towards him. 

“I’m supposed to meet my friend for lunch soon,” he explains and you nod. 

Mat gets up and quickly dresses, running his fingers through his hair in a nervous manner before turning to look at you. Before you can process it, he’s pressing a kiss to your lips and whispering a promise that he’ll call you later tonight. 

When your bedroom door clicks shut, it finally occurs to you what happened last night. You slept with someone for the first time ever. Not just anyone either. Mathew Barzal. 

Your mind starts to scramble and before you have a chance to let your anxiety ruin the whole thing, you reach for your phone. You need to call Gianna. 

Gianna was your best friend ever since middle school. Well, at least you thought she was your best friend, but deep down you knew she preferred her friendship with Inez, a girl who lived in New York that you forget about half the time anyway. 

“Why are you calling me before noon?” she asks when the line finally connects. 

“So I met a guy,” you start, unsure of how to segue into one of the biggest moments of your life. 

“Ooh! This has to be good if you’re calling early.” 

“I slept with him last night,” you blurt out suddenly. 

“You what?” 

You explain the whole situation to her, omitting his name, and more so who he was until the end. When you tell her that he just left and promised to call you tonight, you listen intently as she sighs quietly. 

“Gianna?” 

“Yeah?” she asks, still not offering a full reaction. 

“It was Mat Barzal.” 

The bomb drop leaves the two of you in an awkward silence for more than twenty seconds, each one painfully ticking by and making you flinch inwardly. Gianna knew Mat a bit better than you, the two of them were both on sports teams and their friend circles constantly overlapped. You and Gianna however, had become friends in choir class. 

“I heard he was back for the summer,” is all she says in response and your heart clenches at her uncaring tone. 

“G? I really fucking like him and I’m happy,” you tell her, hoping this admission of feelings pulls more of a reaction out. 

“He’s only here for the summer.” 

“It’s different,” you demand, knowing the underlying meaning in her words. “Last night was amazing.” 

You drown out her response, anger clouding your judgment that Gianna couldn’t be happy for you. You had just slept with a guy for the first time and all she can do is imply he doesn’t care about you? That he’ll go home and everything won’t matter anymore? You hang up shortly after, still slightly fuming that your supposed best friend wasn’t being supportive. 

You knew. 

You knew though deep down, no matter the words you spat at Gianna or the delusional thoughts in your head. You knew you and Mat were going to be nothing after this summer. You just really didn’t want to believe it. 

known there was another girl back in New York. You should have known that she was the one he really wanted. The one he’d give it all for. He was never yours. 

Sometimes you really wished you listened to that doubting voice in your head. 

Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so fucking bad now if you did. 

Mat calls that night, tells you about his day and asks about yours. You make plans to go to the beach tomorrow. Your heart feels lighter when you go to sleep that night. By the time morning arrives, you’ve forgotten all your worries already. 

The knock on your door has an unconscious smile creeping up onto your lips and you jog downstairs and swing it open to see Mat. 

He’s leaning against the door frame, soft smile on his lips, arms crossed over a plain t-shirt and a blue open button down. His legs are crossed in a manner that is so effortless you wonder if he’s even a real human. 

“Ready to go?” 

You nod and he pulls you close, slipping an arm around your shoulder as you walk over to his car. Mat drives to the beach, hand on your thigh and an easy smile on his lips. Your heart raced twice as fast whenever he touched you and you couldn’t help but think you’re in love. 

You get to the beach pretty fast, the two of you finding a place to set up and relax for the day. Mat had been in and out of the water while you had relaxed back in your beach chair and read to your heart's content. You couldn’t think of a better day than the one in front of you. 

Mat flops down onto the beach towel next to you, a bright smile lighting up his perfect features. You gaze at him and he throws a wink in your direction and it feels like your body is lit on fire even just by the thought of him staring at you. 

He lays on his stomach, his head rest on his crossed arms and you find yourself dropping a hand to his back and tracing patterns on his bare skin. You’re tracing your name and then his when you finally break the silence. 

“When are you going back?” 

“Couple of weeks,” he answers noncommittally. 

“Do you think-“ you start to say and just when you’re about to push away the rest of the sentence Mat looks at you expectantly. “Will you call when you get back to New York? Keep in touch?” 

Something flickers in Mats eyes at your question, you’re not sure if it’s sadness or frustration or guilt or what. It seems to pass quickly though, a smile plastered on that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is thrown in your direction as he nods. 

“Of course.” 

You end up in Mats bed that night, twisted in bed sheets, laughs soaring in the air and good feelings wrapping you up so tightly you could almost choke on them. By the end of the night you fall asleep with a smile on your lips and Mat’s arms wrapped around you tight. 

The weeks slipped away from you, warm summer months slipping through your fingers until August arrived. Mat was due back to New York any week now and you found yourself begging for his attention. You dropped anything and everything when he called, something Gianna was getting angry about. 

“Hello?” you answer, looking over at Gianna who gives you an annoyed glance. 

“What are you doing right now?” Mat’s voice greets you and you can’t help the smile that slides on your lips at his voice. 

“Not much. Why?” 

“Meet me behind the mall in 20 minutes?” 

“I’ll be there,” you say, a giddy feeling rising in your chest. 

When you hang up, you stand up searching for your shoes, completely forgetting that Gianna was sitting in front of you. 

“Earth to (y/n)?” she asks and you look over with an awkward smile. 

“So that was Mat,” you start and Gianna huffs in frustration as she stands. 

“So you’re canceling plans again?”

“I only have so much time left with him,” you respond, tugging on one of your sneakers. 

“Of course,” she mutters, anger filling the room. 

“What?” you snap, frustrated that Gianna was still giving you shit for going out with Mat. 

“You’re leaving your best friend for some guy who will leave you in a week?” 

“I’m not-“ you start to retort but she cuts you off. 

“He has a fucking girlfriend in New York!! You’re the other woman!” 

The words are a complete and utter blow. The reality hits you full force and forces you to face the thing you never wanted to. That Gianna was right. That this summer was all you were to Mat. A distant memory. More likely, a mistake he made. 

“Whatever,” you mutter, left with nothing but the last word as you storm out of her apartment. 

You meet Mat behind the mall and he’s quick to hop into your car and press a kiss to your cheek. Your previous argument with Gianna is already fading to the back of your mind. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask Mat when you’re sitting next to him on the beach, the sun setting quietly against the crashing waves. 

“I’m going back to New York tomorrow,” he tells you quietly and the shock is plain on your face. 

“They called me to come back early,” he explains and all you can do is nod slowly at the news. 

“Will you stay until the sun sets?” you ask, the words wavering in your throat. 

“Of course,” Mat tells you but the words sound hollow like he’s already thousands of miles away and in a whole different life again. 

Mat had appeared in your small town like a reoccurring dream, lost memory, and perfect fantasy wrapped up in a six foot tall, brown haired, bright eyed hockey player. For a while you questioned so often if he was even real or not. 

And during that time you let yourself be delusional. Let yourself believe all the times he promised he would call when he got back to New York. That the two of you would stay in touch but as you sat on your bed a week later and no calls from Mat you knew what this was all along. 

And it still hurt just as bad. 

[ilyasorokinn]

omgggg happy 3rd anniversary to you!!!! here's to many more to come 🥂 for this celebration can i please request, from the general fluffy dialogue prompt list number 8 + 9 with mat barzal pls? thank you!

WINNIE MARTIN’S FAVORITE PERSON

this is the first of my tumblr-versary blurbs, so if that annoys you, block the tag 'taylor's tumblr-versary' love ya <3

8. "who let you be this cute today?" 9. "can we wait a second? i wanna take a picture of you right now." (from this prompt list)

you tried to go to as many games as you could, but you had a job so making it to every game was impossible. but, when you could make it to games, mat made sure to plan ahead and make sure you were gonna have a good time.

"you have a ride, right?" mat asked from the bathroom where he was still getting read.

"yes, i have a ride." you sighed. a moment of silence enveloped you and you knew something was wrong, "you okay? you need help with anything?" you asked.

"...yes." he hesitated.

"you can't tie your tie, can you?" you smiled.

"no." you could see the pout on his face as you made your way into the bathroom.

"ooh." you teased, "mathew barzal, who let you be this cute today?" you teased, enjoying the shy smile on his face.

"stop please. just help." he handed you the tie he wanted to wear, but you shook your head, "what?"

"mat, i love you, but your sense of style is awful." you winced, recalling every bad fashion choice you had seen him make. you set the tie on the counter and grabbed a different one, one that better matched the suit he was wearing, and began tying it.

"i should.be offended." the smile on his face told you he wasn't.

"i'm saving you from ending up on people's worst dressed." you shrugged.

he rolled his eyes, "so, before i go, can i see what you're gonna wear tonight?" it was no secret that you loved dressing up for games. it was fun and you liked doing it. you usually had little pieces with his name, number, or team colors. something to show your support, and mat loved it.

"nope." you shook your head.

"what? why not?"

"that ruins the surprise," you told him.

"you're gonna make me wait till after the game to see." he pouted.

"i don't know. maybe i'll be there at warmups." you shrugged, smiling when he perked up, "i think syd's bringing win, so maybe i'll go down with them." she was your ride, so going down to the ice for warmups made sense.

"okay, well, i guess i might see you during warmups." he kissed your forehead.

"maybe." you shrugged, wrapping your arms around his waist, "try not to fall, okay?" he rolled his eyes.

"i don't do it on purpose." he insisted.

you smiled, "score goals." you told him, leaning up and giving him a quick peck.

"for you, always." he hummed.

after he left, you got ready as quickly as you could and before you knew it, sydney martin was pulling up outside your building, "y/n yl/n, you always put the rest of us to shame."

"oh, stop it." you smiled bashfully.

"i'm serious. how you do it astounds me." she ran her finger over the sleeve of your jacket, "doesn't y/n look pretty, win?" you looked to the backseat where winnie was sitting, clutching a stuffed animal.

"pretty." she smiled.

"thank you, miss win." you winked before getting into the passenger side.

true to your word, you followed sydney down to the ice for warmups and helped keep winnie entertained. you could tell sydney was a little tired, so you did your best to keep her attention.

when the boys came out, you couldn't help but smile when mat tossed a couple of pucks over the ice to a few kids. winnie's eyes were glued to the ice as she watched all the guys skate around.

matt skated over, making his daughter laugh, blowing her kisses and even tossing her a puck, which she clutched to her chest along with her stuffed animal.

when your mat finally skated over, sydney took her daughter back so you and mat could have a moment. he smiled, taking notice of your jacket. he spun his finger, and you gave him a little twirl so he could see your jacket.

he gave a thumbs up and a nod, which made you laugh. he tossed a puck over and nodded to a kid behind you, whose eyes were glued. on mat, watching him mesmerized.

you nodded and waved. as he skated backward, he waved and winked. you rolled your eyes before looking at the puck. you smiled when you noticed that mat had signed it.

you turned around to the kid, who looked at you, probably after having seen mat point at him. you laughed before you handed it to him, "this is from barzy." you told him, "have fun tonight."

you turned back to sydney, who had her phone out and was probably recording and taking pictures of the whole thing, "you guys are so cute." she hugged you, "now come on, let's get some drinks." you smiled when winnie raised her arms in your direction, a signal that she wanted to be picked up.

after the game, and an ot goal scored by mat, you waited with sydney and the other girls in the tunnel. you were sitting with sydney, and the entire game, winnie was in your lap. somehow she had gravitated from her seat into your lap, but you didn't mind.

"look, win, there's your dad." you pointed when you saw matt walk out. she gave him a wave, but yawned and laid her head on your shoulder, "i'm tired, too." you patted her back, making the martin's smile.

you waved when you saw mat walk out. he made his way over to you and hugged you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "i'm proud of you. overtime goal!" you cheered quietly, not wanting to disturb winnie too much.

"i know. all for you." he smiled into your hair before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "you ready to go?" you hummed.

"wait, wait, before you guys go." sydney stopped you, pulling out hr phone, "can we wait a second? i wanna take a picture of you right now." she begged.

"fine." mat rolled his eyes playfully, but posed for the picture nonetheless. after the picture was taken, you were going to hand winnie off to her parents, but she clung to you.

"come on, we gotta go home, winnie." sydney sighed, flashing. youan apologetic smile.

"how about this? i'll carry you in the car, but after that, i gotta go." you offered, and she nodded, "all right, let's go." you switched arms and started heading int he direction of sydney's car.

mat walked by your side, holding your hand and talking to you about whatever. unbeknownst to you, sydney, who was trailing behind you and mat, was snapping pictures.

you set winnie in her car seat and waved, "bye, winnie girl." you blew her a kiss and she blew you one back, which you accepted and held close to your chest, which made her laugh.

you walked back to mat's car, "that felt very domestic." he told you.

"keep dreaming, barzal. let's stick to babysitting."

"i know, i know." he raised his hands in surrender.

as you got waited for mat to get into bed later that night, you saw sydney's tag and checked out the instagram story. it was a photo she had taken, without your knowledge, of you and mat walking towards the parking garage, hand-in-hand, winnie in your arms, her head on your shoulder with the caption 'her favorite person ever ❤️ @/yourusername'

mat hopped into bed next to you and saw the post, "you're right. we do look domestic." you smiled.

"let's stick to babysitting." he joked.

taylor's tumblr-versary!

[swissboyhisch]

New York Luck

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Reader

Summary: After a lovely holiday, your partner breaks up with you and so you turn to your only friend in the city.

Word Count: 1055

A/N: I'm not super happy with this. I feel like it's rushed but I want to put it out anyway.

<< PREVIOUS

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Why is it that every time you come to New York, something bad happens. The last time you had gotten your shitty diagnosis. This time your current boyfriend and yourself had decided to go on a holiday to Hawaii for a week and of course, an hour after landing back in New York he decided to break your heart.

Something about not being ready for a relationship. Apparently. And here you were ready to tell him I love you on your holiday but held back because he was a little distant at night. That’s why you’re now standing in a Walmart; wearing a pair of sunglasses trying to find food.

Sadly you can’t even go home. In three days you have to have another surgery. A different one to the last time you were in New York. Now you’re stuck in the city, alone and crying your eyes out. Dealing with health issues and a break up. What a great combo. And to make things worse, you can’t even drink away your emotions!

Aisle by aisle, you grab chocolate, some cupcakes, cheese and crackers, a bit of everything. Oh and a bottle of coke, can’t forget it. That’s when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You turned to where the voice came from. 

“Mat?”

One of the few people you knew in the city. Mat wasn’t a stranger to you. Quite the opposite actually. The pair of you grew up together then reconnected later on once he had been drafted. After a couple hook ups since the reunion, you two were close when you did meet up.

“Are you okay?” Mat questions, spying your reddened cheeks just under your glasses. 

“I uh… Yeah,” You tried to brush it off. Discreetly wiping the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks. “Just some personal stuff.”

The hockey player wasn’t buying it. He had known you long enough to see through your lies. Even if they were really bad like the one you just told. “Okay, what’s up? I know that’s a lie. You were literally just in Hawaii.”

“Stalking my insta?” You joke weakly.

“Gotta see what my favourite girl is up to.”

That made your heart hurt more. Here Mat was calling you that where as your ex could barely call you his girlfriend in front of his friends. God, you thought your relationship was great. Fuck. How could you be so blind. 

“Yeah we got back this morning and then he broke up with me an hour after we landed.”

Mat immediately brought you in for a hug. “Shit. He’s an asshole for that.”

“Doesn’t help I have surgery friday,” You add, sniffling.

“Another one?” Mat sighs. “He’s a coward for breaking up with you before that. It’s a dick move.”

You shrug off the comment. “I’d rather him do it now then drag it out. Now I can just focus on myself. Gonna get snacks and have a night in my hotel. Maybe get ice cream from the place next door.”

“Can I join?” Mat asked. 

“Are you sure?”

Matt agreed and the two of you finished grabbing snacks for the night and finished Mat’s shopping. He brought groceries for his apartment so the two created a plan. First, drop off Mat’s groceries to his apartment. Then head to your hotel to have a chill night. 

You two arrived back at your hotel, which was quite a fancy one since you and your partner had planned to stay there together. First, before retreating to your bedroom, you stopped by the ice cream place and got way too much. Enough that Mat’s nutritionist would cry at the thought of the hockey player consuming all that sugar. 

“This is nice.” The two of you walked into the nice hotel room. A modern style hotel room on the 9th floor. A king sized bed in the middle with the bathroom off to the left as you walked in. There was even a window with a blind in the shower. “Have you stayed here before?”

“Yeah, my ex worked nearby so I’d stay when I’d come to visit him,” You respond.

Mat grabbed the bag of snacks and put that on the counter, wrapped you in a hug and dragged you onto the bed. The smell of his cologne filled your senses. Despite your old hook up ways with Mat, the familiar scent still gave you butterflies.

“I wanna have a shower and get into my pyjamas,” You sighed, pulling away from Mat. You grabbed some clothes and went to go to the bathroom when a sulking sound came from the boy laying on your bed. When you looked at him, he was pulling the puppy's eyes. “What? Do you wanna join?”

“Please?” You giggled and agreed, leaving him to join you when he wished. “Thank youuuu!”

The bathroom was really modern. A large mirror in front of the sink and a huge shower with a rainfall head. Your favourite type of shower. After turning on the water to your preferred temperature, you stripped and got into the shower. The water felt calming as you stood under the stream. 

“Heya,” Mat mutters as he slips into the shower. 

You leaned into the hockey player as he wrapped his arms around you. This wasn’t the first time you had showered with him. But let’s just say usually, a simple shower wasn’t just that. 

“Are you okay?” Mat asks as you’re unusually quiet around him. That question just makes you break. A flood of emotions coming through. Mat was quick to pull you closer, tight against his naked body as you started to sob. “He’s an idiot.”

“What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing. I promise you it’s him. He’s the worst person for doing this to you. He’s the problem.”

Once you had calmed down and the two of you had finished washing, you changed into your pyjamas and cuddled up on bed with a ton of snacks surrounding the pair of you. Mat had signed into his Disney. You allowed him to pick what the two of you would watch for the night. When you saw the intro it solidified the hidden feeling for him. It was your favourite show.

“Thanks for this,” You mutter to Mat.

The brunette kissed the top of your head. “Always.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

[col-islander43]

Haircut

Mat Barzal x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: {1,033}

"No, you're not." was your immediate response after Mat walked into your shared bedroom, claiming he was getting a haircut.

He stopped in his tracks, his brows drew together, and a pout formed on his lips as he stared at you in confusion. Trying to keep it together, you asked "What's wrong?"

Shaking his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he continued walking toward the bathroom "Nothing. My mom said the same thing when I told her I was getting my hair cut. It's just a bit creepy."

Joining him in the bathroom, you sat on the counter as he got out everything he needed to shave, he liked doing it the traditional way. There wasn't much to shave, just a bit of stubble, but he got used to having his face clean-shaven. So against your wishes, he was going to shave, you loved his facial hair and you were open about it.

"How about you sleep on it and make a decison tomorrow?" you bit your lip to suppress your smile when he gave you the same look from before as he applied shaving cream to his face.

"Babe, I already decided. I'm getting my hair cut on Friday I just have to make the appointment." Stepping in between your legs he handed you the razor, knowing you loved helping him shave even if you loved his facial hair more.

You had until Friday to convince him to not cut his hair since today was Tuesday "It's not fair, you know? You shave your beard, and you'll cut your hair which by the way didn't grow that much, what am I supposed to look forward too?" the teasing tone lacing your voice seemed to escape your boyfriend as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.

"You did not just say that!" his disbelieving tone and facial expression made laughter burst out of your mouth, hiding your face in his chest, careful to avoid the shaving cream.

You placed a couple of pecks on his exposed collarbone before looking up at him again "I'm kidding, love. I find it unfair because when I cut my hair you throw a fit for days."

"That's diff-" he cut off his sentence when you leveled him with a look that spoke for you. "Ok. I can't promise that my decison will change, but I'll sleep on it, only because you asked. Now give me a kiss, I'm getting touch starved."

You were about to protest, but before you could get the words out he had given you a peck on the lips which resulted in shaving cream covering small parts of your face.

---------

Laying on your side you watched the sun shining through the blinds, gently caressing Mat's face and highlighting all his features that you loved. Like every morning, you softly traced all his features with your thumb, the other hand raking through his hair, careful not to wake him up.

"I think you've memorized my whole face, you probably already had it memorized the first week you stayed over." His gruff morning voice startled you even if he was whispering.

"I'm sorry if I woke you." You slowly retracted your hands, placing them on his chest but Mat wasn't pleased with that decision. He pulled you closer, shaking his head as he placed your hands in their previous positions.

"You didn't wake me, but I'll get upset if you stop all the caressing. I'm feeling loved." The boyish grin that took over his face told you he was teasing you, but you continued your caressing because you liked doing it.

"You are loved. I love you. And I'll tell you every chance I get. Also, if you really want to get a haircut I'll suck it up and accept it, but your mom said she'll disown you." your voice was slightly above a whisper as he opened his eyes, confusion taking over his features.

"I love you too, but when did you talk to my mom?"

You chuckled when his lips formed into a pout, pecking his lips you caressed his brow "Yesterday. After you called her and went to the store to buy the cookies you claim are for me but eat your weight in. She sounded desperate and I can't blame her."

His jaw dropped as he softly pinched your waist "What's that supposed to mean?! Also they are good cookies."

You shrugged your shoulders trying to come up with a good answer "Baby, you're pretty, you're gorgeous, you're handsome just the way you are. You don't need a haircut."

He kissed your forehead as a way of thanking you before quickly pulling back "Hey! Don't avoid the question."

"I'm not avoiding the question." You definitely were "You don't need a haircut, it's a decent length." you gently pulled a couple of strands before pecking his lips "Especially after what happened last time." you murmured under your breath.

"What did you say? Speak up, sweetheart." He said the words in a low voice, the smirk on his face revealing he heard you loud and clear.

"Nothing." You looked down avoiding his gaze, but that didn't last long because he placed his finger under your chin lifting your gaze. He shook his head telling you he wasn't going to let this go.

"Speak up, baby."

His words made you squirm slightly, he knew exactly what he was doing "I said, especially after what happened last time. We're both a bit scared, babe. You said you were going to trim the ends and then you came back bald."

He burst out laughing, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him so you could lay on his chest "I wasn't bald."

You hid your face in the crook of his neck as your face slightly reddened "There's a difference between trimming the ends and getting a buzz cut. If you really want to get a hair cut I can trim your ends."

He pulled away slightly, his brows drawn together "You can do that? Why don't I know this?"

"I can trim ends I have done it before. And you never asked."

"We have been together for 2 years, how can I not know that?"

---------------------------------------------------------

Hi, Hi. School finished a couple of weeks ago so I'll try and post more.

Feedback is appreciated, hope you guys enjoyed!

[jackhues]

this time around - angel's world

NOTE: this takes place during april/2024. if you'd like to be tagged in coming works, comment on this <3 also... i think updates on this are starting again now (maybe next part in a week idk)

this is a series/interactive au, so feel free to send in any ideas/requests/thoughts you have about this! angel's world au masterlist!!

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE|| PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX - SMAU (COMING SOON)

verstappen!twin reader x mat barzal ,, f1xhockey

angel looked at the time, nervously playing with her dress.

it was almost five o'clock, which meant her dad was almost here. it'd been a few months since she began dating mathew, and besides max, no one in her family had met him.

the truth was, she was nervous.

she knew everyone would love mat, he was a great person. but her dad might not. he was a person who'd done... questionable things while raising her and her twin. and while she held no grudge against him for those things, mat wasn't his biggest fan.

angel could only hope no one caused a problem today.

"you alright?"

angel looked up at mat, a smile spreading on her face just at the sight of him.

"i'm great," she promised. "just nervous. please don't say anything about the things dad did-"

"i won't," he held her hands in his. "look, i know he wasn't a great person, and i know you're okay with the things that happened. i also know that i'm not okay with those things... but this is only the first time we're meeting. i'm not going to say anything stupid, i promise. i'll be a nice canadian boy for the night, promise."

angel smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "thank you. i know you don't like this, but it's... it's too hard explaining things to dad. he doesn't get it. so we just limit our time with him instead."

"well, it's something," mat shrugged to himself. at angel's look, he raised his hands in the air, "i'll behave. i promise."

"alright lovebirds," max entered the living room, "you ready for the biggest test of your life?"

"max," angel groaned.

"i'm joking, i'm joking," the older twin laughed. "he'll love mat, and if he doesn't, that's fine, because lewis already offered to walk you down the aisle in dad's place."

"max!" she groaned again.

"i'm just making sure everyone knows the options!" he responded.

before angel or mat could respond, the doorbell rang, casting a spell and freezing the trio in their places.

"let's hope he didn't hear that last comment," max muttered, breaking the silence. "i'll get the door."

"i'll get it," angel grabbed max's arm to hold him back.

he'd spent his entire life putting himself in their dad's view, keeping angel away from him and his anger... but they weren't little kids anymore. she could face him.

she slipped down the hallways and to the door, opening it before she could chicken out.

and there stood jos verstappen, nodding at the sight of angel. he didn't smile much, angel knew that. so the nod was his way of smiling... or at least that's what she told herself.

"hi dad," she greeted him, hugging him since she hadn't seen him in a while. "how have you been?"

"same old," her dad responded, entering her apartment and making his way to the living room. "too many races on the calendar this year, flying back and forth is hard."

angel was tempted to remind him that he didn't have to be present at every race, but she managed to keep her mouth shut.

they entered the living room together, and jos did a double take at the sight of mathew.

"this the boyfriend?" he asked simply.

"mathew barzal," mat came over to introduce himself.

jos shook his hand and introduced himself.

"here, have a seat," mathew made space for him on the couch.

max and angel exchanged a glance, slightly surprised that jos took a seat and continued the conversation.

"i never knew he was this polite," max whispered to his twin, and it took angel a second to realize he was referring to mat. "didn't he tell charles to drive his car off a cliff after he beat him at mario kart?"

"maybe it's the canadian in him," angel offered. "lance does similar things sometimes."

"it's so weird," max muttered.

"i know."

surprisingly, the rest of the night and dinner went on without a hitch, and when it was finally time for jos to leave, he even gave mat a hug. angel tensed, but mat patted his back as if the two were old friends.

"he's a good one, huh?" jos even said to angel before leaving. "i like him."

angel didn't know what to say, so she shut the door in his face.

she walked back to the living room, still trying to process her dad's words, when she noticed mat and max in deep conversation. mathew knew next to nothing about f1, and max knew next to nothing about hockey... they were from two different worlds.

and yet, they sat in angel's living room, conversing as if they'd known each other for years, as if they were friends who simply enjoyed each other's company.

and with a start, angel realized that she did indeed, choose a good one this time around.

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Welcome Home

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69​

Tagging: @ryanpulock​ @suitandtys​ @texanstarslove​ @charlie-theangelwrites​

Relationship: Married; Anders Lee x Fem!Reader

Summary: You welcome your husband, Anders, home after a roadie.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids). Daddy kink. Dom/sub dynamics.

Comments: This is my fic for @barzysunflower​ for @antoineroussel​ ‘s Winter Fic Exchange! I was SO excited to see Anders on your list because we need more Captain Daddy content and I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy it, too!!!

Disclaimer: Reading/creating content for married players isn’t for everyone and I totally respect that! Don’t read if you don’t vibe with it, but please don’t send me hate!!!

(c) nat g. 2023 // do not repost, do not claim as your own

The worst thing about being married to an NHL player was when he was on the road. No matter how many times he had been away, it sucked every time to be left alone in an empty house. Every time Anders was away, you spent the entirety wishing he was home. You knew he had to go, that he was living his dream every day, but Anders was your everything, your best friend, you lover, your soul mate, so whenever he was away, you felt empty.

And that’s exactly how you felt this time around. It wasn’t even a long roadie, just Philly, Pittsburgh, and Washington before returning home, but it still meant your husband was away and your home felt more like a house than a home without him.

The days always went by slower without him, but, like always, he’d be home eventually. They won in Philly and Pittsburgh, but they lost in Washington, so even though it was a successful road trip, they still went home with a bitter taste in their mouths.

They flew home after the Washington game, which wasn’t a long flight, but they still got in late. You were in the bathroom going through your nighttime skin care routine when Anders came home. You heard the door open and the pups’ barks turn to happy whines as they realized their dad was home and you smiled to yourself. It wasn’t long before you heard his heavy steps come up the stairs and you waited for your husband to appear.

You heard him call your name as he stepped into the bedroom and a moment later, he stuck his head into the ensuite and softened when he saw you. “Aren’t you a sight,” he said as he leaned against the door frame. You were in just a robe, which was loosely tied and gave him a glimpse of your chest through the mirror, and, God, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him.

You blushed at the way he looked at you through the mirror and bit your lip, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

Anders couldn’t help but smirk as he shook his head and walked over to you, bracing his hands on either side of the vanity before he leaned in to kiss your neck, “I am nothing compared to your beauty.”

Your blush intensified as you leaned to the side to give him more room. Even after all these years, he still managed to give you butterflies. “I missed you,” you told him with a hum before you turned your head so he could kiss you properly. It was soft and slow and you cupped the back of his neck to pull him closer, craving him.

“Missed you more,” he told you when he broke the kiss.

“Not possible,” you shook your head and pulled him in for another kiss, melting into him as he deepened it. “But you smell like plane,” you told him and scrunched your nose up as you patted his chest.

“I can shower again,” he sighed and ran his thumb over the arch of your cheek and laughed when you knocked his hand away, not wanting him to mess up the skincare you just finished. “Or you could join me in the shower?”

You hummed as you pretended to think about it. “I will join you in the bath,” you replied and his smile widened as he nodded.

“A bath it is,” he agreed and cupped your chin so he could kiss you again and you smiled into the kiss, so in love with him. He chased your lips when you pulled back from the kiss, pressing another quick peck to your lips before letting you go to start running the bath.

When you renovated the house, having a tub that fit you, your husband, and his large thighs was a must, and you were fortunate to have a large enough bathroom to accommodated a tub that large.

You watched as Anders sat on the edge and turned the tub on, feeling the water until he got it hot enough for you before he put the plug in and began to strip himself of his shirt. His shoulders were big and broad and his chest had just a dusting of chest hair on it and you bit your lip as you ran your eyes down his chest before you reached out to touch him. “You’re so gorgeous,” you told him softly.

It was Anders’ turn to blush as he placed his hand on top of yours. “And all yours,” he replied, making you smirk and playfully squeeze his chest before running your hand down to the front of his sweats. “All mine?”

He groaned softly, getting hard from just your touch, “all yours.” Your smirk widened and you squeezed him through his sweats before pulling back innocently to feel the water and make sure it was the right temperature, and of course it was. Your husband knew you well. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman,” he breathed and reached out to give your ass a soft smack and grabbed a handful before he pressed his hips against your ass, letting you feel all of him. “You feel what you do to me?” He asked, nipping at your neck.

Your jaw went slack as you felt him hard against you. “Oh, I feel it,” you replied with a soft moan and pressed yourself back against him. “Maybe you should feel what you do to me?”

He gave your hip a squeeze as he hummed before he stepped back to push his sweats and boxers down before he slipped into the tub and looked at you with a smirk, “come on in, baby.”

The tub still had a long way to fill, the water just licking Anders’ thighs, leaving his everything on display for you. You ran your eyes down him, eating him alive like the first time you saw him before you stood straighter and slowly pulled at the tie on your robe. You couldn’t help but tease him, letting the material slip from one shoulder then the other before you finally shrugged it off and stepped into the tub and straddled him, feeling him hard against your core as you looped her arms around his shoulders. “God you’re hot,” you breathed as you looked at your husband.

He groaned softly as he watched you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist before tracing soft circles on your hip with his thumb. “Not as hot as you,” he told you before leaning in and kissing you.

Anders controlled every kiss and you tried to press yourself closer, his chest hair brushing against your nipples, pulling a soft moan from you before he moved his hands down to squeeze your ass. The kisses were slow and deep as the tub continued to fill with water and once the water reached your ribs, Anders reached around you to turn it off as you broke the kiss with a whine of his name and rested your forehead against his.

“What do you need, baby?” He asked you, the corner of his lip twitching up as he kneaded your ass.

You knew that he knew what you wanted, that he just liked to hear you say it, so you rocked your hips into his as you lightly scratched your nails over his shoulders with a soft moan. “Need you to fuck me,” you breathed before you kissed him again.

“I can do that, baby, but I’ve been on the road so it’s been a couple days, hasn’t it?” When you nodded, he hummed, “turn around and rest against my chest and spread your legs for me, baby, let Daddy take care of you.”

Your lips parted at the name which only made his smirk widen as he gave you an expectant look. He wasn’t going to ask again and you knew it. You nodded and slowly turned around to rest between his legs with your head on his shoulder before you hook your legs over his knees.

He rewarded you with a soft “good girl” before he ran his hands down your body, pausing at your breasts to gently pinch your nipples before he moved down to your inner thigh as he kissed your neck. “I’m going to show you how much I missed you. I’ve been thinking of you all trip long.”

“I was thinking about you too, Daddy,” you smirked and tried to spread your legs wider as you turned your head to kiss under his jaw.

“Yeah? Tell me what you were thinking about,” he hummed as he ran his finger up your pussy, pulling a soft moan from you.

“Thought about your big blue eyes and your smile and your voice and the way you moan my name when I’m sucking your cock and how your thick cock feels inside my pussy, Daddy,” you replied and gasped when he bit your shoulder before he soothed it over with his tongue and started to rub your clit exactly how you liked it.

“God yes,” you moaned, rolling your head to the side to give him more room.

“Not God, baby, just Daddy,” he smirked and nipped at your neck again before trailing his free hand back up your chest. You could never get over how big his hands were and he gently massaged your breast before he pinched your nipple and moaned into your neck at how perfect you are. “I’ve been looking forward to this all trip. The plane ride home went on forever knowing you were home looking as gorgeous as ever and I had to wait to get my hands on my beautiful wife,” he continued before he slowly pressed a finger into you and groaned how tight and warm you were.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, never getting over to how thick his fingers were. “Been thinking of fucking me all trip, huh?” You asked breathlessly. “Should’ve said something, I could’ve sent you something to take the edge off, maybe in that pretty pink set you just got me.”

Anders groaned again as he added another finger before he curled them up before he started fucking you with them. He never knew how he got so lucky with you. “Fuck, I should have,” he agreed and bit your neck again. “Gonna have to put a show on for me later, baby.”

“Okay Da—” you started before cutting yourself off with a gasp as he found your g-spot. “Right there,” you told him, your back arching. “Don’t stop.”

Anders would never stop, not when you’re being good for him at least, and he used the heel of his palm to rub your clit as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. “Spent days thinking of my wife’s sweet pussy,” he said. “Thinking of her being a good girl for me, cumming on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock.” You clenched around his fingers as he talked, every word going straight to your core. “Daddy wants you to cum for him,” he continued, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear before he lightly nipped at the lobe. “Cum all over Daddy’s fingers.”

You let your eyes fall closed as you nodded, your jaw slack as you moaned before you came hard, fluttering around his fingers as you dug your nails into the meat of his thighs, needing to hold onto him. “That’s it,” he praised you, finger fucking you through your orgasm, “fucking squeezing my fingers so good, baby.”

“Daddy,” you moaned loudly before you reached behind you to cup the back of his neck. “Please. Fuck, please, Daddy, I need you.”

He hummed as if he was thinking about it as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. “Give me another one and you can have my cock,” he settled on before he added a third finger, groaning loudly at how tightly you clenched around him. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy again.”

You fluttered around his fingers, so full of them and you couldn’t be bothered to quiet yourself as you moaned, desperately gripping the edge of the tub to get your bearings.

“God you’re so fucking sexy,” he praised as kissed your shoulder. “Bet you can take four,” he said before he eased another finger in you despite your whine. “You feel so fucking good stretched out around Daddy’s fingers, baby,” he praised you breathlessly, his cock painfully hard against your ass.

Your jaw was slack as you focused on his fingers, still so sensitive from the first one. When he pinched your nipple again, it sent you over the edge and you came on his fingers, harder than the first as you gripped the edge of the tub tightly and rocked your hips against his hand.

“Good girl,” Anders praised and drew your high out as long as he could, slowing his fingers as he fucked you through it. “You’re so good for me.” His praise always made you feel warm and once you were able to catch your breath, you mouthed at his jaw, bolding biting his pulse point and pulling a low growl from him before you pulled back to tell him, “need you to fuck me, Daddy. I can feel your hard cock against my ass and I need to feel it inside me.”

Slowly, he pulled his fingers from you and squeezed your hip. “Ride me,” he told you. “Ride Daddy’s cock, it’s yours.”

The water sloshed over the edge of the tub as you turned around and straddled him, your skin flushed and eyes dark. You could feel him hard and heavy against you and you smirked as you reached between you to stroke him, watching as his jaw went slack. His groan was low and his grip tightened on your hip. “Don’t tease me, baby,” he warned you, and you knew better than to go against one of Daddy’s warnings.

You gave him another few strokes before you lifted yourself up and slowly sunk down on him. It took you a moment because of the sheer size of him, even after all these years, but you were so warm and wet and tight around him. His moan was rough and it made you flutter around him as you looped your arms around his shoulders, your chest pressed to his.

“Taking me so good,” he praised, his voice breathy and you moaned as you pressed your face into his shoulder. It took you a moment before you finally took all of him and you fluttered around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, you could never get over how big he was.

“So big, Daddy,” you moaned and bit his shoulder before riding him slowly. Anders helped guide your movements as he held your hips, slowly quickening your pace.

“Missed having a big cock in your little pussy, didn’t you, baby? Missed Daddy fucking you just the way you need,” he said with a smirk, pulling a long moan from you. You didn’t have to say it from him to know he was right.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you moaned as you nodded and you pushed him back against the back of the tub before planting your hands on his chest for leverage and set a quick pace you knew he liked, not caring as the water sloshed over the edge of the tub. “Love having your big cock in my pussy.”

You were rewarded with a loud moan as the water continued to cascade over the edge. “That’s right. You fucking love it. Take what’s yours,” he continued, looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Mine,” you told him and boldly scratched your nails down his chest. He was already yours and only yours and you knew he didn’t like to be marked, but you couldn’t help yourself as you rode him harder.

His grip tightened on your hips enough you knew there would be bruises tomorrow and crescent marks from his nails, but it only made you moan louder. You wanted every mark he’d give you, every reminder of who you belonged to.

“Yours, baby. I’m yours,” his eyes closed for a moment as he moaned. “Feel so fucking good,” he told you before he kissed you deeply. You moaned into his mouth as you trailed your hands up to his shoulders and your pace stuttered as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You broke the kiss as you moaned louder, your eyes closing as he continued to rub circles on your clit as you rode him and he groaned when you started to flutter around him.

“Daddy,” you whined, so close again.

“I know,” he nodded. “Go on, cum on Daddy’s cock, baby girl.” You moan his name as you nodded and a moment later you finally came around him, squeezing him tightly as you pressed your face into his neck. “Fuck,” he cursed, tightening his grip on your hips as he continued to guide your hips as you fluttered around him bringing him closer.

You clenched around him hard. “Daddy please,” you begged, so used and sensitive and you were sure that if he kept his pace up, you’d cum again.

“Please what?” He asked with a smirk, knowing damn well what you wanted but wanting to hear you say it.

“Daddy,” you whined again, fluttering around him.

“Tell me,” he commanded, his smirk growing. He wanted to hear you say it. Needed to hear you say it.

“Please fill me up, Daddy. Fill me up with your cum,” you whined, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he moaned loudly and used his thumb to rub your clit again and feeling you flutter around him sent him over the edge. He moaned your name as he came, and you clenched around him at the warm feeling of him filling you up before you pulled him in for a kiss, needing everything he’d give you. It was slower than the other kisses and you let yourself melt into it, into him, as you both rode out the high.

You gasped sharply when Anders continued to rub your clit, wanting another one from you, and you pulled back from the kiss to look at him with wide eyes but he only smirked. “I know you were closer,” he explained, rubbing your clit slowly. “One more for Daddy, okay, baby girl?”

“I—” You whined before you could get the words out and clenched down on his cock. “Daddy please.”

He only hummed, “Daddy’s taking care of you, just one more, baby.”

You closed your eyes as you rested your forehead against his, your breathes shallow as you got closer and closer, so raw and sensitive it was almost too much. Your moans turned to whines as you came for the fourth time. It wasn’t as intense as the others, but it was just as good as you came on your husband’s cock, and this time when you rested your head on his shoulder to catch your breath, he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you flush against him as he rubbed your back.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Always such a good girl for me.”

You hummed at the praise and let your hands rest on his sides, tracing small circles on the softness of his tummy which you loved so much. “The water is all dirty now. And cold,” you said once you finally caught your breath and you could feel it as he laughed.

“It is,” he agreed and slowly pulled you off him, hushing you as you whimpered when his cock slipped out of you. “Quick wash and then I’ll take you to bed, okay?” You nodded and moved with him as he reached for the body wash and a cloth.

He was gentle as he ran the cloth over you, starting with your arms, going up to your shoulders before dipping under your arms and down your chest. He paid special attention to your chest as he washed you, and when he smiled at your whimper, you gave his chest a shove. His laugh made your chest warm and he held the cloth in his hand as he looked at you, so incredible in love with you. Not a day went by he didn’t think about how lucky he was to have you.

“I missed you,” you said after a moment and softly played with the hair at the base of his skull.

“I missed you, too,” he replied softly, and ran the cloth down your back. “I’m glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you are, too,” you smiled and gave him a little shove as he squeezed your ass, making him laugh again. “Shush, and finish washing me so we can go to bed. I’ve missed my teddy bear.”

Anders scrunched his nose up at the nickname you gave him ages ago and buried his nose into your hair making you laugh. God, your laugh was his favourite sound. Or maybe second favourite behind you moaning his name. “Okay, okay,” he resigned with a nod and trailed the cloth down to your thighs and then your core, murmuring a soft apology knowing the cloth was rough and you were sensitive, and then he finally trailed the cloth along your ass cheeks. He wrung the cloth out in the water before adding some more soap and washed himself, not that he devoted himself the same attention as he did you. He’d shower in the morning anyway and he was sure he didn’t smell like the plane anymore. “Okay,” he nodded when he was done and he gave your hip a little tap. “Teeth and bed, yeah?”

You hummed as you nodded and slowly untangled yourself from him. Between your legs was sore as you stepped out of the tub, making you wince, but it was a good sore, a sore you missed every time your husband was on the road. You grabbed your towel from the rack and wiped yourself down as you heard Anders pull the plug on the tub before stepping out of it and you handed his towel to him.

“Thank you,” he nodded as he took it from you, wiping down his chest before wrapping the towel around his waist. Drops of water still ran down the valley of his chest, down his tummy and into the towel and you bit your lip as you looked at him. If you weren’t so tired, you’d fuck him again once you got to bed. “What?” He asked as he looked at you.

“Nothing,” you smiled as you shook your head. “I love you.”

He didn’t believe you, but he smiled as he nodded. “I love you, too,” he told you before stepping closer so he could kiss you. The kiss was chaste compared to your other kisses that evening but you loved it just as much. You loved every kiss and moment you got with him.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Anders chased your lips, making you laugh as he kissed you again before you tapped his chest. “Enough, okay? I want to go to bed, my hips ache, Mr Big Dick.”

“Mr Big Dick?” Anders laughed and playfully tugged at the edge of your towel so it would fall, but you quickly retucked it above your chest. “Guess that makes you Mrs Big Dick, huh?”

“Shut up,” you replied, not that shaking your head did anything to hide your smile as you wet your toothbrush and put toothpaste on it before moving the tube over to Anders’ side of the vanity and beginning to brush your teeth. Anders followed your lead and once you were both done, he leaned against the vanity as you went through your skincare routine again, the first time basically all for not after your recent activities. “You could go get the bed ready,” you told him after you washed your face but he scrunched his nose up again.

“Gotta stay and watch my girl, make sure you don’t fall on the way to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you finished your skincare and you looked at Anders as you undid your towel and hung it back up on the rack before you bit your lip and walked back into the bedroom. You snickered as you heard Anders’ groan and you knew he was hot on your heels as you pulled the covers back and got in. 

You were right, Anders was right behind you and you squeaked as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you back against his chest before quickly going limp in his arms. His hand rested on your stomach as he kept you flush against his chest and you smiled as you melted back against him, warm, comfortable, and safe. “My teddy bear,” you whispered and covered his hand with yours.

He hummed as he kissed your shoulder, loving the feeling of you against him. Having you in his arms was the happiest he’d ever be. “I love you,” he whispered back, making you smile.

“Love you more,” you replied and when he tried to argue, you gave him a soft, playful elbow to the ribs and laughed when he played up his wince. “Good night, Anders.”

“Good night,” he sighed and kissed your shoulder again. He held you as you drifted off, spent from the night and just when you were on the brink of sleep, he added, “and I love you more.” The grips of sleep already had you so you couldn’t argue with him and he smiled into your neck as you drifted off, him not far behind you.

[fear-of-flyers]

holiday cards

my work for @buttercupjosh as a part of @antoineroussel winter fic exchange! enjoy kirsten <3

pairing: anthony beauvillier x fem!reader word count: 1.9k warnings: none that i'm aware of (ofc let me know if i need to add any)

Winter was by far your favorite season. It meant all of the things you loved: snow, warm drinks and spending all your free time cozied up with your best friends and family. It also meant that you got to spend all your free nights watching your favorite person in the world play hockey. You had been dating Anthony for almost 3 years and never tired of watching him live his dream. And it didn’t hurt that Anthony living his dream had led you to some of your favorite people in the world, most notably Sydney Esiason Martin. Since meeting her, Syd had become almost like your big sister. She knew firsthand what it was like dating a professional athlete but was also super funny and caring. The two of you connected on a deeper level and the connection had only increased when she had her and Matt’s daughters. You and Beau were one of the first choice babysitters and you were looking to Sydney’s advice for when you started your own family. For now though you were more than happy being an aunt and dog mom. 

Beau had surprised you with a chocolate lab for your second anniversary after months of talking about getting a dog. Her name was Amber, she was 2 and absolutely spoiled by Anthony. He went into it thinking the dog wouldn’t be on the furniture and now she had a permanent spot on the couch and in your bed. This was why you knew Beau would say yes when you asked to do a holiday card. You were at the Islanders game against Nashville during the beginning of December when Sydney was telling you about their annual Christmas card shoot and you knew you had to do it. Despite being virtually certain Anthony would say yes, you made sure to get everything you would need for the shoot before asking to increase the chances. You got matching PJs for you and Anthony and a bandana in the same pattern for Amber and used pinterest (and Syd) to figure out the general vibe you wanted for poses.

All that planning meant that when Anthony got home after practice the next Friday you were set to ambush him. At 1:15 a text from Beau let you know that he was on his way home and you set to work. You tied the bandana on Amber and laid the matching PJs out on your couch; on the side table you put out a container of Anthony’s favorite cookies and Amber’s favorite treats as bribes before sitting at the kitchen island to work while you waited. Not even 20 minutes later you heard a key in the door and Amber’s paws tapping across the hardwood as she ran to greet her favorite person. “Hey there Amber!” You heard Beau say, “How’s my most favorite girl? How was your day, huh?” You rolled your eyes at his words of choice, a small smile forming on your lips. “Most favorite girl?” You said, walking over to your boyfriend. “What does that make me?” Anthony laughed, closing the gap between you and pulling you into a soft kiss. “I have the two best girls in the world,” he said, “you’re both my most favorite.” You smiled against his lips, unable to help it. “Well,” you said. “Would you do us a favor then? Since you love us so much?”

Beau’s face immediately turned suspicious. “What kind of favor?” He asked, pulling his shoes off and placing them under the bench by your door. “A special one.” You replied, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the living room. “Did you notice Amber’s bandana?” You asked, turning back slightly to see Anthony’s response. “Yeah,” he said. “I liked it. Is it new?” You nodded to answer the question. “Yup! And it’s a good thing you like it!” You said, finally coming to a stop in front of the couch. “Cause we have PJs that match!!” You turned to him and were met with a look of confusion. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Is this it? This doesn’t seem like much of a favor.” You smiled a little, stepping closer to him. “Well, I thought that we could put on our matching PJs, then take a picture and putitonaholidaycardtosendtoeveryone.” 

“Woah there,” Beau said, raising his eyebrows. “We’re gonna do what? I just want to make sure I heard that right.” 

“Well, I was talking to Syd at the game Thursday night and she was talking about her family’s holiday cards. I thought it would be cute if we did one.” You said, looking up at Beau through your lashes, a move you knew he couldn’t say no to. “Just super close friends and family, I promise. Plus, they can’t make fun of you because it would be making fun of the other guys who do holiday cards; and no one’s making fun of Marty.” Beau sighed and pulled you into him and you knew you won. “Thank you!” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning up for a kiss. Beau indulged you and leaned down to meet your lips before asking when you were gonna take the pictures. “I was thinking tonight, if that’s okay with you.” You answered, your head not moving from its place in his neck. You felt him nod against you. “Perfect,” he said. “Just enough time for a nap.”

…

At Beau’s insistence you napped with him. And when you woke up about 30 minutes later you decided to shower and start prepping dinner while Anthony finished sleeping. Finally, about 45 minutes later you heard Anthony’s footsteps coming down the hallway and the telltale taps of Amber walking next to him. “Hi babe,” he said, arms wrapping gently around your waist. “Hi love” You responded, putting the knife you were using down and leaning back into his embrace. “How was your nap?” Beau rested his chin on the top of your head. “Good,” he said. “Turn around.” You complied, reluctantly moving yourself from his embrace. But you were glad you did because when you turned around you were met with Anthony in his brand new PJs. “Wow!” You said, smiling as you took him in. “You look wonderful! Let me finish chopping the zucchini then everything can go in the oven and I’ll change.” You said, moving to turn around and pick up the knife. But Anthony beat you to it, gently moving you out of the way. “Let me do it.” He said, pulling the cutting board closer. “You go ahead and change; we can take the photos as soon as you’re ready.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and turned to go change. In the bedroom you put your PJs on before applying a little makeup and pulling your hair back into a bun. By the time you finished and made your  way back to the kitchen Anthony was setting the timer for your dinner. You stood, leaning against the doorway, until he noticed you. He finally did when he turned to leave the room, a smile taking over his face. “You look good, Y/n.” Beau said and you could tell that any hesitancy he had before was gone; the excitement was shining in his eyes. “Yeah?” You asked, grabbing his hand as soon as he was near enough. “Always.” He responded, kissing your cheek. “Amber’s on the couch and I’m ready when you are.” Instead of responding you pulled him gently in the direction of the living room. 

Once there you set up your phone on the TV stand and got started figuring out poses. You ended up sitting next to Beau, squeezed close; Amber was sitting on the floor in between the two of you, her head half on your leg. And it took you a couple of tries but eventually you got the shot. But to your surprise the picture you ended up going with wasn’t one of the few where you looked perfect. You had gone into the photoshoot looking for something idealistic and came out of the experience with your new favorite family photo. In the picture you chose Beau was petting Amber who was looking up happily at you as you laughed at something Beau had said. There was pure joy in each of your eyes, joy you could tell was real. As you scrolled through the photos to choose a couple more Anthony and Amber got back from their quick walk. “What are you smiling at like that?” Beau asked, unclipping Amber’s leash and slipping his shoes off. “Come look!” You said, turning your phone slightly towards him as an invitation. “I picked the main photo for our cards.” As he started towards you the timer on the oven went off so you got up, handing him your phone on the way to the kitchen. And as he swiped through the photos you took your zucchini and chicken out of the oven and turned off the rice cooker before grabbing plates and setting your places at the island.

By the time you were finished serving dinner Beau had made his way into the kitchen and put out food for Amber. He got the both of you water before finally sitting down to eat. You ate in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before asking the question you had been sitting on since you gave him your phone. “What’d you think of the pictures?” You asked, turning slightly to face Beau. “They were really great Y/n.” He said, pulling your hand out of your lap and squeezing it. “I had a lot more fun with it than I thought I would. Thank you for setting it all up.” You smiled at him, tension leaving your body. “I’m so happy about it. I can’t wait to make the cards and send them out. I love all the pictures but especially the fourth one, we look so happy.” At that Beau fully stood up and pulled you into a hug; “We are so happy.”

[bonus]

About a week later the cards came in and you spent an afternoon addressing, stamping, and stuffing envelopes. When that was all finished you walked with Amber to the post office and sent the cards off. A couple of days after that Anthony walked into the locker room and all heads turned to him. He didn’t quite know what was happening so he opted to go right to his locker and start getting dressed but when the staring didn’t let up he scooted a little closer to Mat. “Alright, what happened?” He asked, wanting anyone to say anything. “The cards bro.” Mat responded. “I’m pretty sure most of us got them yesterday.” Anthony nodded in realization, “Oh,” he said. “Were they bad or something?” He asked, now addressing the room at large. “No, just strange,” Oliver spoke up. “Not that it’s a bad strange.” Anders interjected, wanting to reassure Beau. “Yeah, it’s sweet kid.” Marty chimed in, a smile on his face. “Syd was saying that Y/n was talking about doing a card but didn’t know if you’d be down. It’s really nice to see that you did it; plus you look so happy.” Beau felt the smile taking over his face and the blush covering his cheeks, “I wasn’t super excited about it but I wasn’t gonna say no, and we are really happy. I would do anything for her.”

[zuucc]

MORE THAN A VANVOUVER SUNSET: What if…

… Mat had given in?

Summary: What If Mat had given into Emma, that night in his car? What if he’d thrown his principles out the window and given into what they both wanted so badly? This story is a spin on what would’ve happened in Mat’s car that night after their trip to Sunset Beach - the trip that definitely was not a date - if Mat hadn’t been so stubborn, and so adamant about taking her on a date first.

Warnings: Smut, more cursing than actual sentences

Word Count: 3600 (including excerpt)

Author’s note: I wrote the first 50.000 words to More Than a Vancouver Sunset when I was supposed to be writing my bachelors thesis. That´s just about three years ago now, which is just mind blowing on its own. The fact that this story still spins through my head still, is maybe even worse? Anyways, I’ve got a week long exam and just like before, that makes me want to write everything but that. It´s not like MTAVS doesn’t have enough smut as it is, but banging my head against table has got me coming up with all kinds of shit. Needless to say - it’s spicy. I know I’m not really on here anymore, and for most people I’m just someone you’ll occasionally see on someone’s Mat Barzal, Tyson Jost or William Nylander fic rec list. I don’t even think half the people I used to talk to on here back then are still here, but I hope this finds someone who’s interested. And this could be read as a stand alone, you do not have to have read the 80k nightmare that is More Than a Vancouver Sunset to read this.

I hope you enjoy.

In cursive, you will find an extract from More Than a Vancouver Sunset, with what leads up to this story. If you haven’t read the full story - Mat has previously stated that Emma is not the kind of girl he’d just fuck, he would like to take her on a date first. He’s brought her to watch the sunset at the beach, but didn’t call it date out of fear. Though it really feels like a date to Emma and he did end up kissing her.

~

His hand started laced with hers, their fingers intertwined, resting in her lap as they began the drive back home. The conversation flowed freely, and it hit Mat square in the chest that though their lives had taken completely different paths after high school, they still shared many of the same experiences and they still had so much in common – hell they’d even ended up in the same city. Soon, his hand was gripping her thigh lightly and Emma’s own hand curled around his wrist, moving back and forth in a soothing manner. 

“I have to admit, my crush on you came back pretty quickly,” he hummed, looking over at her for a split second before he turned his attention back to the road ahead, causing Emma to laugh. 

“Yeah, a little faster than I’d like to admit,” she agreed, and Mat nodded along. He was pulling onto her street, but he didn’t want to let her go just yet. The digital clock on his dash had pushed past eleven and Emma’s parents’ house was dark when he pulled into the driveway. He turned the car off, already knowing that he wouldn’t just be saying goodbye and backing out again. He looked over at the beautiful girl sitting next to him, and she was already looking back at him. They both smiled, looking at each other for way too long before they both burst out in giggles. They’d talked non stop all the way back and now it seemed that they were both out of words. 

“Come here,” Mat chuckled, pulling her closer by her hand and meeting her halfway. They both smiled into the short kiss, their eyes meeting for a second before their lips did, though this time the kiss was loaded with all the sexual tension that had seemed to make the air thick all around them. Emma’s nose brushed against Mat’s before the kiss deepened, the open mouthed kiss sending warmth through both their bodies. While Emma slid her hands up his chest, Mat’s dropped to her thighs, his grip a bit tighter and moving a bit higher than where it had been on the way home. 

Mat hummed into the kiss when her hands slid back to his neck, her fingers instantly moving into his thick hair and curling into fists. Their tongues met in a slow slide against each other, sending a wave of want crashing between Emma’s thighs, as she moaned into the kiss – not even embarrassed at the sound, simply just wanting his lips on hers, or anywhere else on her body – that’d be fine too, and his hands roaming. Mat could feel his pants getting tighter with every kiss they shared and Emma seemed to get more impatient; little moans slipping past her lips, her fingers clenching in his hair, doing everything she could to press herself closer to him, only to be stopped by the center console. Mat reached for the little button on the side of his seat, taking his seat the last few inches back. 

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, not pulling far away, her lips still moving against his while she spoke. 

“Just come here,” he hummed, kissing her hard but quick as he placed one hand on the back of her thigh and the other sliding across her back to curl around her waist. He pulled her body closer to his before he simply lifted her over the center console with very little help and effort from Emma, letting her straddle his lap. That in itself had Emma grinding her hips down onto his immediately, making a groan escape his throat in unison with the moan she pressed against his mouth. 

“Fuck, Em,” Mat said, groaning into her kiss, his hands on her hips as she ground against him. The shortened version of her name falling from his lips along with his hardening member under her, hit her perfectly between her legs whenever she rolled her hips over his, and it was pushing her further along the road to desperation. His hands moved slowly up her sides as their lips slotted together, so slowly it nearly had Emma placing her hands on his to push them to where she wanted them most. He pulled away from her lips, his own glistening and swollen as he looked up at her with dark, lust-filled eyes. Emma looked back at him with the same look on her face, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly and Mat’s attention was caught, his hands finally covering her breasts. He kissed her deeply, but only for a few seconds before he started a trail down the side of her neck as Emma pushed her hair back out of the way for him. 

“Let me take you out on a date,” he spoke, his lips moving against the sensitive skin right beneath the line of her jaw. One of his arms wrapped around her waist while the other stayed on her boob, massaging it in his hand. Emma’s neck craned back to let him have as much space as possible, her hand fisted in his dark curls. 

“I thought this was a date,” She breathed, her body pressing against his, desperate to be with him – desperate to have him naked against her, desperate for him to be inside her. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head against her as he kept leaving kisses down her neck. Emma moaned as he found a particularly sensitive spot. She rolled her hips into his and she could feel him fully hard beneath her. She was sure the particularly nice thong she’d decided to wear was soaked through. 

“You don’t have to take me out first – before you fuck me,” she moaned, clenching her fist in his hair. The words falling from her mouth along with the pull of his hair had Mat groaning and pulling back from where he’d been leaving kisses on her skin.

“I’ll take you out – tomorrow,” he said, making Emma swallow hard. He really wasn’t going to fuck her tonight, and she didn’t know how to deal with the fire burning in the pit of her stomach. She pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes. They were both breathing hard. 

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” she sighed, brushing her nose against his. Matt chuckled, kissing her lightly, but long enough to leave a tingle on her lips. 

“I’m sure you can feel what you’re doing to me,” he breathed, placing his hands on her hips and pushing her against him. A breathy moan fell from her lips, making a soft smile tug on his. 

“I’m so wet right now, I’ll probably leave a mark on your pants,” Emma told him, not even embarrassed about it. He was wearing a pair of dark green cargo pants that did wonders for both his ass and his thighs, so no, she wasn’t going to be embarrassed about leaving a mark on them. Not when he was making her feel like this. 

“You can’t just say that,” he groaned, letting his head fall back on the headrest. Emma smirked, trailing her fingers down his chest, towards his abs. Mat locked his gaze to her fingers, following them down his torso all the way until it slipped under his t-shirt. He looked up at her again as her hand flattened out over his abs. 

“And you can’t just look like this, and kiss me like that, and expect me to not be wet for you,” she dared, feeling brave and risky now. She was horny, and she’d practically begged for him to fuck her already, so she had nothing to lose. This time it was Mat who smirked.

“What made you decide to wear this dress tonight?” he asked, his smirk turning cocky as his hands moved from her hips to her thighs. Emma smiled, looking out the window for a second to compose herself. 

“I like the way it fits around my hips,” she grinned. He somehow managed to look even more smug than he already was with his fingers curling around the side of her thighs, pulling her just a little bit closer. 

“So, you did this on purpose?” he asked then, his hands moving back to her hips, but this time under her dress. His thumb rubbing back and forth on a spot right beneath one of the double bands on her thong, and then slipping under it just to tease. 

“I did – I even put on nice underwear for you,” she said. He could hear the hitch in her breath when he pulled his thumb away and let the band smack back on her skin. 

“You’re not even wearing a bra,” he smirked, having already figured that out when she climbed into the car hours ago now and he’d sure gotten it confirmed when he had his hands on her earlier, only feeling the thin material between his hands and her boobs. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not wearing a nice pair of undies, though,” she smirked back, finding his smug expression faltering just a little bit. With his attention fully on her, Emma moved her hand out from under his shirt, finding the hem of her dress instead and lifting it just enough for him to see the white lace covering her most intimate part, and the two bands sitting high on her hips. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, letting his hands fall back down to her thighs, his thumb sliding underneath the lacy fabric. He looked up to meet her stare, keeping eye contact as the finger slipped further down to where the material was actually soaked. Pushing the thong to the side, he let his finger slide through her slit, watching her as her mouth fell open and her eyes closed. 

“I thought you had to take me on a date first,” she breathed, letting her head fall to rest her forehead against his, her fingers finding their place in his hair again. 

“That was just before fucking you,” he smirked, though through his tone it was clear that he was nearly as affected as she was. Emma moaned as he slipped closer to her hole, almost falling against him. Their noses brushed against each other and their lips met just as he slid one long finger into her. The desperate moan vibrating against his lips sent blood rushing towards his dick, even if he’d been hard for a long time already and he could feel himself twitching in his pants. The moan that followed when he pressed another finger into her had him wondering what sounds she was going to make when he’d get to push his length into her. He would’ve fucked her right there in the front seat of his car if he hadn’t been so fucking stubborn. But there was the fact that he didn’t want to have sex with her for the first time in his car in her parents’ driveway. He wasn’t really much of a romantic, but he’d like to take his time with her – in a bed. 

“Fuck, Mat,” she groaned, her lips capturing his before she pushed her tongue against his. Oh, what she’d do to have his tongue between her legs right now. Mat loved the way she said his name, and he looked forward to hearing her moan it again as he placed his thumb on her clit and started rubbing circles. He started pumping his fingers in and out of her, her juices running down his fingers and making him want nothing more than to lick it all up. Her mouth fell open as he curled his fingers inside of her, her head falling back as a string of moans left her lips. 

“Just want to taste you, baby,” he mumbled as she gasped at the loss of his fingers, her eyes heavy as she followed them into his mouth, his lips locking around the two long fingers dripping with her arousal. The pet name sent another wave crashing through her body, and that, along with the sight of Mat licking her juices off his fingers, had her falling forward, her lips and tongue against his as soon as his fingers were pushing back inside her. The taste of herself mixed with what she learned was the taste of Mat, was something she could definitely get used to. 

“Oh my god,” she moaned against his lips, the feeling of his fingers deep inside her too much, yet far from enough all at the same time. She pulled away from his kiss and immediately reached for the straps of her dress that were tied in little bows on her shoulder, tugging at their ends and letting the front fall down to expose her bare chest.

“It’s too fucking hot in here,” she whined, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Mat’s lips hung slightly open, lips burning red and and glistening from kissing her. His eyes were dark and lustful, alternating between her face and her naked chest, her pink nipples begging him to touch them.

“You are unbelievable,” he mutters, more so to himself than to Emma. She grins, unsure if it’s her body or her persistence he’s referring to, but happy with herself either way. She grips his t-shirt in her fist and pulls him closer, pushing up on her knees in order to let him fit his mouth around her nipples. The moans erupting from her throat were so desperate that she’d normally be embarrassed, but she was desperate and she couldn’t care less in that moment.

“Fuck, Emma,” he cursed again. She’d started meeting him halfway as she fucked herself onto his fingers, meeting his knuckles as he thrusted the length of his fingers into her.

“You’re really making me do this, huh?” He asked, more so rethorically. His words were barely audible as he dragged his lips from one of her boobs to leave a trail of wet kisses up to her collarbones.

“What?” Emma breathed, too focused on the feeling that was filling her body and gathering into a big ball of pleasure in her lower stomach, begging to explode.

“You’re making me break my promise, baby,” he whispered, his lips having made their way up her neck, stopping right beneath her ear. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be inside her. Never before had he wanted something so badly. Sure, he could make her come with his fingers, and she would be somewhat satisfied, but the way she was begging for him? It did things for his ego that he couldn’t really explain and he needed to give her what she wanted - what they both wanted. He’d never felt so wanted by anyone. And truthfully, it was starting to hurt with how incredibly hard she was making him.

“Fuck, really?” She nearly cried, gasping as he pulled his fingers out of her. His fingers were wet with her arousal, but neither of them cared when he placed both hands on her hips and pushed back on his thighs. He nodded to answer her question.

Emma hurried to get her hands on the waistband of his pants, opening the button and pulling down the zipper as fast as she could. Simultaneously, Mat slipped his thumbs into both his pants and his boxers, ready to pull them down as soon as she’d gotten them open. Emma cursed again as his erection finally sprung free and slapped against his abs - his t-shirt having ridden up ages ago.

“Fuck, Emma, come here,” he begged, reaching out to grab her hip to pull her closer with the one hand and finding the button on the side of his seat, reclining it in order to make the ordeal easier. It would’ve been easier to move to the backseat, or just sneak into Emma’s bedroom, but right now this just needed to happen as fast as possible. He needed to be inside her as fast as possible.

“Oh god,” Emma breathed as she maneuvered her legs in the tight space, watching him spit into his hand before wrapping it around his dick and lathering it up.

“Come,” he demanded, and Emma felt herself fall towards him. Her hands found his sturdy shoulders and she lifted herself up from his lap for him to finally line himself up with her opening.

“Fuck, Mat,” she sighed as he pulled her underwear aside and let his tip run through her slit. They both moaned in relief as she finally sunk down onto him.

“I just need you to know- fuck,” Mat started, but interrupted himself as she lifted herself off of him before quickly sinking back down. Emma wanted nothing more than to cover his lips with hers and just get lost in it, but it seemed like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I want you, in every single way,” he went on, stopping to breathe and curse to himself. His hands had found their way back to her, one hand on her hip and the other was gripping her ass, helping her keep a steady rhythm as she rode him.

“Not just like this. But god do I want this, too,” he managed to tell her. Emma’s lips spread into a wide smile, feeling full in every single sense of the word.

“Me too, Mat, me too,” she agreed, leaning her forehead to his and very willingly complying when he pressed his lips to hers. Everything that had happened between them up until then had happened fast, and so had this. But Emma knew it was right, even if it was absolutely terrifying at the same time. Emma’s fingers fisted into the thick locks of hair on the back of his head, and their tongues finally met. They made out desperately as their hips met repeatedly, Mat planting his feet into the floor of the car to be able to meet her hips every single time she came sinking down on him.

“I’m so close, Mat,” Emma sighed, adjusting her feet on the side of the seat to be able to up her speed.

“Me too, baby,” Mat agreed, letting his head fall back to watch her as she sat spread out on top of him, her chest glistening with sweat and her arousal having spread out on her inner thighs and Mat, too. One of her legs were extended over the middle console and into the passenger seat and that way Mat could see the way he was buried inside her, how he was covered in her juices. His thumb found its way to her clit and he watched her close her eyes in pleasure, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.

“Oh, god, now,” she cried, pushing herself forward to fall against him again. They’d never done this before, but somehow Mat knew what she meant. His arms wound around her, holding her close to him, as he thrusted up into her with all the power he had as she moaned and clawed herself to him - leaving marks on his shoulder as she finally came. He didn’t let go himself until he could hear her moans slowing down and coming to an end.

“Fuck, Mat, that was just… Wow,” Emma managed to say, still breathing heavily. She lifted her head from where she’d collapsed into his shoulder, a wide smile spreading on her lips when she pulled back and saw the one already on his lips.

“I know, I’m… I’m glad we did that,” he admitted, even though he had been so adamant on waiting til after he’d taken her on a date.

“Me too,” Emma laughed, relaxing into his lap again. The feeling of his softening dick inside her was warm and comfortable.

“To be fair, I really thought that was a date,” she grinned and Mat shook his head with an embarrassed smile on his lips. A blush crept up his already pink neck - Emma might not be able to see it with how hot they both were, but he could feel the blush settle on his neck and cheeks.

“It was supposed to be, but when I saw you this morning I just didn’t have the balls to call it that,” he admitted, his hands were running up and down the outside of her thighs as they spoke.

“You didn’t have to call it that, Mat. You didn’t have to say the word date for me to understand that the guy who’s been flirting with me for weeks and even told me that he wants to take me on a date and then fuck me, is asking me on a date when he’s asking me to come watch the fucking sunset at the beach. Like, I thought we’d established that I am quite smart a long time ago,” Emma laughed, and Mat had to cover his face with his hands as he laughed along. She was right, it definitely sounded like a date.

“So, if it makes you feel better, we can just say that it was a date,” she shrugged, smiling that gorgeous smile that Mat had been falling for every single time he’d seen her since he was assigned seats next to her in high school.

“Okay, fine. But I’m still taking you out tomorrow,” he grinned.

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Emma mirrored his smile, leaning forward to press her lips to his again.

“I meant it though, what I said about wanting everything, not just sex,” he reminded her, struggling to keep eye contact as he said it. It was important to him that she knew how he felt. She was more than just a one time thing.

“I know, Mat. Me too,” she said, kissing him once more.

“But I really do want the sex, too,” he smiled cheekily, making Emma throw her head back laughing.

“Me too,” she agreed, leaning in again for a deep kiss.

[heartmix]

Sickness - Mat Barzal

Pairing: Mathew Barzal x gn!reader

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: I am still in mourning over the haircut, but at the same time it is so funny. Also not really proofread

*Christmas Prompt - Sick*

Masterlist / Hockey Masterlist

This was not how you planned your December going. December was supposed to be filled with Christmas activities and playing in the snow. Your body however had different plans for you. That involved you stuck to your bed all day, maybe a week. The only upside was that you could watch as many Christmas movies as you wanted, it's not like you had a choice anyways.

Being sick was miserable. The runny nose, itchy throat that you had to cough every second to feel some sort of relief, the headaches being unbearable. Your current best friends were a bottle of Advil and Vicks. It got to a point where you had to wear a mask to sleep because the cold air was bothering your nose.

When Matt noticed you haven't texted him in a few days or even gone to a game during the week he knew something was up. You would text him constantly and he should have noticed on the second day when you didn't text back, but he was so wrapped up with the games he didn't bother to check.

So when he saw the Uber eats notification on his phone, from sharing accounts, of course, he knew right away you weren't feeling the best. You would never order medicine online and you'd never buy soup, your mother had a fantastic soup recipe that you perfected.

He was determined to make you feel better. He felt guilty for not noticing something sooner. He rushed out of practice faster than normal just so he can meet the Uber eats guy before he could reach your front door. His teammates gave him all weird looks, but they let it go knowing they can get something out of Anthony in a few hours.

While Matt was rushing hoping time will go slower so he can surprise you, you sat in bed hoping time would speed. You would like your medicine and soup asap to hopefully make you less miserable. After thinking it would never come you heard a knock at your door. You groaned at the thought of getting out of bed, but moaned at the thought of the best soup and medicine money could buy. Opening the door you did not expect a 6-foot hockey player to be delivering your order.

"Mat..." you gave a small smile followed by a coughing fit. You quickly shut the door to avoid coughing on him.

"It's a bit rude to shut the door on the person who has your soup." He said through the door with a playful tone making you chuckle.

"It would be rude to cough on the hockey player who is currently in season." You defended opening back up the door to a goofy smile on Mat's face.

"How kind of you. Too bad you can't get rid of me that easily." He said pushing through you to get inside your apartment.

"Mat leave. I'm sick and I will literally kill myself if you get sick and miss a game." You groaned taking a step back each time he tried to take on to you.

"You're so dramatic. You should have called me earlier. I would have brought you whatever you needed." He grumbled.

"I will lock myself in my bedroom if you don't leave." You threatened with your voice cracking. This conversation was the most you spoke all week.

"No, you won't. I got your medicine and soup." He said holding up the bag filled with your saving graces.

He was just as stubborn as you and you knew that he wouldn't leave on his own. You slowly grabbed the bag from his hands with a reassuring smile. Before he could make any move toward you, you made a beeline for your bedroom door and locked it as fast as you can.

"You're being childish!" He yelled from the door although he didn't need to. You could hear him just fine.

"You're being stupid Barzy! You have a game tomorrow. You can't afford to get sick." You tried to yell as loud as you can, which sounded like your normal talking voice.

"Two can play that game. I'm gonna sit outside your door till you open up." He said and you heard him sink down to the floor. 

He somehow became more stubborn and stupid. You thought he would up and leave in half an hour tops, but you were so wrong. It's been almost two hours and he was still here. He's been here so long that you've gotten texts from mostly everyone from the islander's locker room. Anthony probably opened his big mouth. Your soup was long gone and your medicine was working, you could barely keep your eyes open. The only thing stopping you was his voice talking about yesterday's win over the Blackhawks.

"Barzy." Your voice was soft and hoarse but he could still hear it clear as day.

"What's the matter?" His voice matches your soft tone compared to the normal voice he was just using a minute ago.

"I need water."

"Well, you need to open the door for that." He pointed out making me groan.

"If I give you a hug can you get me water and leave." You asked hopefully the offer would work.

"That's a hard bargain." He sounded like he was really contemplating the offer.

"I'm going to fall asleep on you. I'll watch your game tomorrow and even change into your jersey even though my shirt is more comfortable. Please." You begged. He could tell you were tired and was surprised you were still awake after taking your medicine.

"Okay. I got you water already. Open up."

Opening up the door he was met with your tired body and also you in a sweater and mask. It was a sight to see and he couldn't help but chuckle. He handed you the water which you threw on your bed. You turned back to him to see he had his arms open waiting for you. A promise is a promise. As much as you didn't want to embrace him, this is the best you'd felt in days.

"I'll come over after tomorrow's game. We have the next day off. You'll let me stay right." He asked which you nodded at.

"You're sleeping on the couch." You mumbled into his chest making him chuckle.

[senditcolton]

hits different

do you think i have forgotten... about you?

series masterlist | playlist | word count: 9.3k a/n: here it is! the finale of the "we're a bad idea" series. it's crazy to think that this series started on a complete whim and turned into this. i had so much fun writing this for you all and screaming about it with you and... gosh, just, thank you for all your support! I hope you all love this conclusion as much as I do. warnings: feminine reader, teammate's sister, age gap. smut! heavy handsy make out, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex. Disclaimer: Reading/creating content for married players isn’t for everyone. Please don’t read if you don’t vibe with it, but don’t attack me or others!

It felt like something out of a goddamn movie.

The way your eyes locked onto each other the very moment you settled next to Shannon at the altar. How the scent of the flowers that Emily had chosen for your bouquet suddenly became overwhelming. The feeling of heat that rushed through you – a heat that had nothing to do with the warm July afternoon and everything to do with the blue eyes that had captured you under their gaze.

Not the mention the film reel flashback that replayed in your head of those months when you allowed him into your bed and into your heart. And how he broke you into a million pieces and sent you running to Los Angeles to escape his hold on you.

Almost two years and three-thousand miles between you and him. You thought that would be enough.

But, even after all of that, it seems that you still couldn’t forget Matt Martin.

And based on the beating echoing through your ribcage, it was obvious that your wretched heart failed to remember how much it hurt whenever he was around.

The string music dancing on the breeze lifts to a crescendo and you almost scoff at the irony; like the universe itself was trying to arrange a reunion worthy of an Oscar-winning romance. Then you heart stutters when you see Matt lift from his seat, his eyes still locked on your frame and you fear that a love confession was about to fall from his lips.

Thankfully, that doesn’t happen. Instead, he turns from you, directing his gaze down the aisle.

The embarrassment rushes through your body and you have to shake your head at your dramatics; at the way you made yourself the main character in a moment that was anything but yours.

This was Scotty and Emily’s moment – their wedding, for Christs sake. Your eyes divert to the end of the aisle, watching as your soon to be sister-in-law walk to your brother, her stunning white dress flowing behind her. You sneak a glance at Scotty, watching his eyes water as Emily takes those final steps towards him. This was the reason you were here. Not Matt Martin.

Somehow, you manage to make it through the entire ceremony without looking out to the audience and those ocean blue eyes. When you walk back up the aisle for the recessional, your arm linked in Sebastian’s, your gaze locks with Matt’s once again before he disappears from your sight.

It’s a moment of reprieve as you sneak back into the cabin where you and the rest of the bridesmaids had spent the night, a deep breath lifting your chest.

You should’ve known he would be here. He was your brother’s teammate, a fact that you were all too aware of when this tryst began. Still, you hoped you wouldn’t have to face him. Not because you hated him or because you had moved on. But because there was still a part of you that craved him, that couldn’t let him go.

There was an ache in you and it felt like only he could heal it.

How? The answer to that question was still uncertain. You didn’t know if you needed him to apologize, or give you closure, or tell you everything you’ve always wanted him say. But you weren’t ready for it, whatever it was.

And when you walk into the reception area where the guests waited, your heart proves how unprepared you were based its reaction when your eyes find Matt. And the gymnastic routine it does when you realize that he was seated at your table, only a few spaces away from you.

Dinner is excruciating. It feels like a choreographed routine as you stop your head from drifting too far to the right to look in Matt’s direction, pretending that you don’t feel the weight of his stare, laser-focused on the toasts and your brother’s first dance. And when the dance floor opens and the mingling begins, the reason you fly from your chair was to greet other guests, performing your duty as a bridesmaid.

Not because you were desperate to delay the inevitable conversation you knew you had to have with the one man you had been avoiding.

Blissfully, a familiar voice calls to you from across the space and your eyes lock onto Mat Barzal, frantically waving at you from one of the other tables. You smile, walking over to him as he rises from his chair and hugs you, your name falling from his lips with that bright cheerfulness that you heard so frequently over Facetime calls and nights out in LA when the Islanders came to California.

“How are you doing, Barzy?” you ask, pulling away from the hug.

“Pretty good,” he replies, his hand falling to the shoulder of the pretty brunette occupying the seat next to him. “Have I introduced you to Lyla yet?”

“Well, you’ve talked about her enough that I feel like I’ve met her before,” you laugh as you steal Mat’s seat from him, holding out your hand before formally introducing yourself. “Good to officially meet the girl that stole this idiot’s heart.”

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lyla says, taking your hand in hers. “Although, I will be honest, when I first saw your name on Mat’s phone and how many Facetime calls the two of you shared, I was a little concerned. Thought you were a long-distance girlfriend or something.”

“Completely understandable,” you laugh, admiring her candor. “But there’s nothing to worry about. He’s a little too sweet for me.”

“I’m standing right here,” Mat huffs and you look up at him with a smirk.

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”

Your relationship with Mat Barzal was the one thing that had shifted in the years you were away but it definitely changed for the better. He had turned from a potential romantic partner to a true friend. That shift – one that was brought on after a night of too many French Blonde cocktails – lifted a weight off both of your shoulders and opened the door for an even deeper connection with star winger.

“I hear that I have you to thank for him asking me on a date,” Lyla says.

“I did nothing but push Mat to ask for the number of the pretty girl at the gym that he spent almost a half-an-hour raving about,” you laugh, loving the way both Lyla and Mat’s cheeks flushed. “You had him whipped before he even knew your name.”

“Oh, trust me, I figured that out eventually,” Lyla jokes and you can’t help but scoot in, ready to hear all the embarrassing stories that Lyla was willing to share. And share she did. It seems like hours of laughter and conversation, Mat even dragging a chair over and joining in – although most of his comments are attempts to defend himself. Eventually, Lyla gets up to run to the ladies room, departing with a kiss on Mat’s cheek and you can’t stop the smile that appears when Mat’s eyes stay glued to her as she walks away.

“I like her,” you say, calling his attention back to you. “She’s way too good for the likes of you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs, taking your jest in stride before sipping his beer. You see his hazel eyes bounce across the room, pausing momentarily before they return to you. “Have you talked to him yet?”

A sigh rushes through you as you shake your head.

“I still can’t believe I told you about him.”

“You told me like… eight months ago. Besides, you can only blame yourself.”

“Hey, I can also blame copious amounts of alcohol.”

“Yeah, alcohol that loosened your tongue and sent his name falling out of your mouth,” Mat quips, his eyebrow raising. “Along with your dinner.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you say, your mind jumping back to the night in question.

It was November, when the Islanders played Los Angeles. You and Mat met up at a local bar – just the two of you and it was that night that your relationship changed completely. Because in your inebriated state, Matt Martin’s name slurred from your lips while Barzy was attempting to shove you into an Uber.

Despite facing the wrath of his coaches, Mat helped you back to your apartment and kept you company that night, his reasoning being that he wanted to make sure you were alright and a California road trip allowing him the time to do so. It was over greasy eggs and bacon that he asked why you said Marty’s name. And you told him.

You even told him about the night of the charity gala, emphasizing that you never meant to use him like that. And that the reason why you never took him up on his offer to be more than friends was because you didn’t want to use him more, keep giving him false hope.

The truth stung him for a few days but after giving him the time and space he needed, the honesty and clarity brought the two of you closer. Now, he was the only person in your life that knew the whole story of why you left Long Island. And, like the good friend he was, he kept your secret all that time.

“You know you’re going to have to speak to him at some point,” Mat prods.

“I know,” you quip, playfully rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t mean I can’t avoid him for a few more minutes.”

��You’ve been avoiding him for almost two years. Don’t know if a few minutes is going to help.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“You can thank Lyla for that,” he smiles and you watch his whole expression soften at the mere sound of her name.

“She makes you happy.”

The sentence is more statement than question. You were there on the other end of the line when he talked about the first time he saw her. You gave him pep-talks and advice on how to ask her out. You helped him plan dates and dinners. It was obvious that this girl was something special to him.

“Happier than I’ve been in a while.”

“Then why are you still sitting here talking to me?” you say. “Dance at a wedding with your girlfriend.”

“Alright, I will,” Mat laughs, standing. He doesn’t depart immediately, choosing instead to lean over to you with a serious look in hie eye. “But you have to promise me you’ll talk to Marty.”

Another sigh escapes you as you let your head turn to look at the reception hall, your eyes glancing off the crowd of guests before landing on Matt, leaning against the wall, talking to Cal and his wife. As if he can feel your eyes on him, his gaze drifts to you and you watch a myriad of emotions dance on his face, each so subtle and fleeting that you couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was thinking.

“He’s been asking about you, you know,” Mat’s voice sounds, pulling your attention back to him.

“He has?”

“Yeah. Asking me, Scotty, Emily, anyone really. How you’re doing, what you’re doing.”

“What have you told him?”

“Just surface level stuff: your job, your complaints about the weather and LA traffic, things like that. It seems like he wants to talk to you,” Mat says. “So, you should talk to him. If nothing else, you might at least get some closure.”

You exhale, you mid swirling with the information that Matt Martin was still thinking about you, maybe in the same way you were thinking about him. Your head was a mess of doubts and hopes and fears and longing and desires. You just breathe through it all, pulling Mat into another hug which he reciprocates.

“You’re a really good friend, you know that right?” you ask, your voice muffled by his tuxedo.

“So I’ve been told by this really cool Los Angeles girl who overthinks everything.”

You laugh as you let your arms fall, Mat shooting you that crooked smile before he is walking away. You see him intercept Lyla as she re-enters the reception area, taking her arm in his and pulling her to the dancefloor, the smile on her face brightening as Mat leans in and kisses her cheek.

There was a part of you that twinged at the sight. You knew it was jealousy – not the traditional jealousy but a different form. You weren’t angry that Mat found joy with someone that wasn’t you, but envious that he found someone, period.

Especially since you were unable to move on from the man you shared a scandalous but exhilarating few months with. The man you promised yourself you would forget.

But then you hear his voice sound from behind you and feel that exquisite ache that you had never been able to soothe throb in the center of your chest.

“Hey.”

You turn to see him standing behind you, his suit looking almost too perfect for his body, his hair tousled and falling over his forehead. You watch as his blue eyes rove over your face and you wonder what he’s thinking and if all the same emotions are flooding his system the way they were yours.

“Hi,” you whisper, cursing your voice for coming out sounding so timid, cursing yourself for still allowing Matt Martin to make you feel small. But instead of that cool smirk that used to always appear at the sound of your frailty, his face remains impassive, his eyes flicking down to the now vacant seat next to you.

“Could I sit?” he asks and your head spins, not only because of the gentleness of the question but the fact that he even asked at all. The Matt Martin you used to know would’ve sat down immediately, invading your space boldly and brazenly for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.

You nod, watching him settle down into the cushioned seat and take a sip from his whiskey glass, his eyes still on you. It takes an immense amount of effort to break your gaze as you reach for your own wine and letting the smooth oaked flavor dance over your tongue.

“How have you been?” Matt breaks the silence again and you know you hear a hesitance in his voice, like he is unsure if he should even be addressing you.

“I’ve been alright,” you reply, your own voice thick with trepidation. “You?”

“It’s been decent.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and his eyebrows quirk up in curiosity at your words. “For your injury. The playoffs,” you elaborate. Your gaze stays locked on him, trying to understand the micro-expressions that pass over his face.

“Thank you,” he replies and you just nod, taking another sip of your wine. “Didn’t know if you were even watching.”

“Wanted to support my brother.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Of course.”

You hated this. Hated the weight that hung over the two of you like a lead curtain, making anything beyond small talk too difficult to say. You weren’t sure how to surmount this obstacle, not sure if it was even possible to overcome. But someone had to be brave and attempt that first step.

With a deep breath and another sip of liquid courage, you turn you attention back to Matt.

“Was there… something you wanted to ask me?” you question, the words as stilted and unclear as the intention behind them.

Matt looks at you, his blue eyes wide as he absorbs your words. It is a moment of stillness before he is finishing off his whiskey and setting the glass on the table, lifting himself out of his chair. Your heart flips in fear that you said the wrong thing, that you ruined the moment before it could even take shape but that concern is silenced when Matt stands in front of you, holding out his hand, his palm upturned.

“Dance with me?”

Of all the questions that you thought Matt Martin would confront you with, this was one that you were not prepared for. A sentiment that is echoed by a bewildered ‘what?’ falling from your lips.

“Will you dance with me?” Matt reiterates, the request turning into a genuine question. Would you let him take you out onto the dance floor and into his arms again?

Your eyes rove from his face to his hand, still outstretched. The hesitance lingers in you reflected by the way you lift your own hand, your fingers curling back in a moment of uncertainty before you allow them to touch his. They glide against his calloused skin, wrapping around his palm, his own fingers winding around your hand.

Another glance up at him shows you the slightest smile playing at his lips. But it isn’t twinged with the familiar undercurrent of cruelty or power. Instead, it looks like relief.

He gently tugs you upright before leading you to the dancefloor, the refrain of a slow melody encompassing you moments before Matt’s arms do the same. He adjusts the grip on your hand while the other finds a respectful place on the small of your back. You let your own free hand lift and rest delicately on his bicep as the two of you begin to sway.

The silence between you remains even as the music rises and falls. You still avoid looking in Matt’s eyes, content to stare at the hardwood floor even though you can feel the weight of his gaze. In the back of your mind, you knew that if your eyes locked with his, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure.  That possibility was to be avoided at all costs. You couldn’t let Matt Martin regain the control over you that he used to have.

“You look beautiful.”

Those three muttered words, the compassion behind them, makes your resolve crumble, your eyes darting up to meet with his.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice breathless – the exact opposite of the curtness you wanted your tone to convey. But perhaps it wasn’t your choice to soften your words. Maybe it was subconscious, based on the way that Matt held you, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. It felt different.

He was different.

“I missed you,” he whispers; the first real confession of the night.

“Matt,” you sigh, the cynic jumping out to protect your heart – the one that he shattered.

“I know,” he says. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“How can you?” you challenge him, the small flame of anger that you held flickering in your chest.

“You’re right. I have no idea what you were about to say. But I can make a guess.”

His words extinguish that resentment as soon as it appears, your eyebrow raising in surprise – not only towards his words but in his concession to you, he deference of power, the pendulum swinging in your favor. Your silence allows him to continue.

“I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me,” he begins. “For you to believe anything I say is the truth. But I guess… I’m just wondering if you would give me a chance. Let me prove it to you.”

“Prove what to me?”

“How much I missed you. How much I care about you.”

He pulls your closer to him and you allow it. You let him hold you tighter until your chests press together, the smell of his all too familiar cologne flooding your senses. You swear you forget how to breathe when you feel his hand trace up your arm before resting against your jawline. The gentle press of his fingers guides you to look up at him, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Let me prove that I was an idiot for ever letting you go.”

You can feel the tears prick the corner of your eyes and you know Matt can see them, watching as they well up on your lower lashes. His words seemed so sweet, so genuine, and you so desperately wanted to believe them. But there was still that voice in the back of your mind screaming, ‘this is what he does; he’s an expert at speaking these saccharine words but you know they’re never fulfilling.’

But here, now, he was promising to prove it to you.

The words of acceptance are dancing up your throat, hanging on the tip of your tongue and at the edge of your lips. But before you can speak them into existence, the universe silences you once again.

“Alright everyone, please clear the dance floor and let the bride and groom have one private last dance. Make your way to the front entrance and get ready to send them off in style!”

The MC’s voice booms from the speaker, pulling your attention and your body away from the gentle hold of Matt. The uncertainty and distrust take advantage of the interruption to reassert itself in your mind.

‘This was a sign,’ it said. ‘The universe is protecting you from getting your heart broken again.’

But when you look back, your eyes connecting to Matt’s once more and you still see nothing but yearning on his face, you feel your own longing surge again.

“Meet me by the fountain when this is all over?” you ask.

“I’ll be there.”

This time, you really do believe him.

You meet with the rest of the bridesmaids and hand out the silver streamers. You are blessed with an immense amount of coordination and impeccable timing as the streamers pop right as Scotty and Emily make their way through the crowd and hop in the car, already packed with their suitcases and honeymoon plane tickets. It is another few moments of clean up and meeting with the wedding coordinator before you are able to run back to the cabin where you and the other bridesmaids stayed for the past two days. You grab your overnight duffle bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way through the country club and out to the garden near the front entrance.

The two aspects of your personality were still at war with each other as you entered the terrace. Part of you prayed that Matt would keep his word and be there, just like he said. The other part prepared itself for the possibility that this was all just a cruel joke, an elaborate attempt for him to keep his hooks in you.

But when you walk out and see Matt standing next to the stone fountain, his profile illuminated by the garden lights, your desire once again silences the doubt in your mind.

You wanted to trust him. Sure, you might get hurt. But you could also heal.

That hope was worth the risk.

Matt hears your heels clacking against the pavement and turns to face you, his lips curling in a gentle smile at your approach.

“You’re here,” you say, breathless, as if your brain still didn’t trust that this wasn’t all a dream.

“I told you I would be,” he replies, holding out his hand to you again, another offering for you to accept or reject. This time, your hand slides easily into his, your fingers intertwining.

There is a pause, as if neither of you expected to be in this situation. Now that you were, you were both unsure what to do next. The uncertainty sinks into you, your voice breaking the silence in an attempt to continue the moment.

“I was planning on getting a room at the hotel airport,” you explain. “If you want to join me.”

You swear you see a flash of surprise cross Matt’s face at your suggestion before softening, a look of gentle exasperation painted on his features.

“Is that how you think I’m going to make it up to you?” he asks. His tone isn’t frustrated or offended. Instead, it’s curious, like he truly wonders if that’s what you thought of him. Or if that’s what you needed from him.

The ache that rushes through your body, reminiscent of the desire you always felt towards him but multiplied tenfold, gives you your answer. The months you spent denying your hunger for him, the ways you explained away the pain of losing him as something akin to withdrawal, how you used those brief moments of happiness to justify your choice to leave, keeping you handcuffed to the idea that you would be better off without him… they all melted away.

You wanted him. You’ve always wanted him.

You step forward, pressing your body close as you look into those eyes that haunted your dreams.

“It’s how I want you to,” you whisper, the response to his question cutting through the night air.

There is no clear indication on who moved first but you find it doesn’t matter when you feel the press of Matt’s lips against yours. This kiss itself is delicate, as if he was careful not to cross any line, any boundary that you wanted to place. But you had no sense of restraint.

Your desire surged forward, free from the cage that you kept it locked in. You release your grip on his hand and your duffle bag, your free hands flying up to his hair, tangling in the silky locks as your body presses impossibly closer. Matt takes your desperation in stride, his own arms wrapping around you, holding you steady. Your tongue presses against the seam of his lips, silently begging for access which he gives. A whimper escapes your throat, the taste of him on your tongue only increasing your craving. You can feel Matt’s grip tighten in response to your sounds, his fingers crumpling the silk fabric of your dress as he swallows every desperate noise that he pulls from you.

Somehow, the kisses slow until your lips are falling away from each other. Matt keeps you near, your forehead pressed against his, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheekbones.

“Let me take you home,” he murmurs and you don’t even think twice before your head is nodding in agreement.

The car ride back to his place feels both familiar and foreign. The air between you is still thick with need but those powerful emotions are lightened by the feeling of Matt’s fingers intertwining with yours over the center console, the way his eyes dart over to you, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe this was real. You were sure that your face conveyed the same thought.

He pulls into the driveway, the porchlight gleaming like a beacon in the darkness, calling you back to him. His grip around you is firm as he walks you to the front door, escorting you across the threshold and your eyes take in the sight of a house that you felt you knew like the back of your hand. The pillows on his couch were different as was some of the art lining the walls but besides that, it looked exactly how it did the last time you were there.

You hear Matt kick off his shoes behind you and you aren’t sure if it’s habit or muscle memory that pulls you forward, your own heels tapping against the hardwood as you wander deeper, your body guiding you to the staircase. Your hand wraps around the wooden railing as you begin your ascent to the second floor. Matt is close behind you, his own steps slow and measured as he lets you guide him up the stairs and to the first door on your right.

The master bedroom is more of the same, the smallest and subtlest of changes catching your attention as you walk into the room. You can hear the small click of the door latch finding home echo and you turn to see Matt leaning against the doorframe, his eyes observing you in the low lamplight.

Your smile is all the encouragement he needs to push himself away from the door, crossing the distance stretched between you in only a few steps. His hand lifts to cup your face, your eyes locking with his before he is capturing your lips in another kiss.

In the safety and security of his bedroom, it seems as if both of your desires were unleashed with a vengeance. His hands pull you closer and your own scramble on his body, wanting to feel every inch of him, wanting to recommit his shape to memory. You are pressed against him, pushing him deeper into the room, your feet moving across the carpeted floor. He lets you manipulate him, walking backward and holding you against him as if he wanted no space to separate the two of you ever again, be it three-thousand miles or three inches.

It isn’t long until his body is falling to sit on the edge of his mattress, his thighs spreading to pull you between them. His desire to have you close is reciprocated, your body moving on its own accord. Your hand mindlessly reaches down to grip the fabric of your dress, pulling the midi hem higher to allow you to climb into his lap without hinderance, your legs straddling his waist.

Matt’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, the movement of his lips against yours never ceasing. Your own hands return to tangle in his hair, the taste of him more intoxicating than all the bottles and glasses of alcohol that you drank trying to forget him.

If possible, your desire ratchets up another level and your hands fall from his hair, tugging off his suit jacket. You blindly reach for his tie, undoing the knot as Matt’s hands wander all over your body, grabbing your ass, pulling your hips down to meet his. A moan rumbles from your chest as you feel the hardness of him pressed against you, your lips falling from Matt’s. He doesn’t seem affected, his own lips moving to kiss your neck, his hands still tracing your curves.

You are blind with lust as Matt’s head dips across your collarbones and the top of your decolletage and you let your instincts guide you, your fingers finding the buttons of his dress shirt. Each clasp is unfastened deftly and as soon as the shirt falls open, your hands sneak underneath the fabric, pressing against Matt’s warm skin. You can feel the strength of his chest, the movement of his muscles, and the pounding of his heart underneath your palms as they glide up, pushing the material off his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands only depart from your body momentarily to rid the shirt from his frame completely before he is pulling your lips to his again.

Your hands drift back down to his abdomen and you can feel his muscles clench in response to your gentle touch. It’s another generous roll of your hips against his before your fingertips find the button and zipper of his slacks. You blindly undo them just enough that you can slip your hand beneath both the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groans against your skin as your hand wraps around his length. Another rush of heat flows through your body at hearing the familiar pet-name fall from his lips. Your own lips twist in a smile as you give him a few languid strokes, relishing in the way his moans vibrate against your skin – the way he weakens for you.

The need to make him unravel more takes over as you begin to pull away from him, your body scooting back in order to dismount and fall to your knees in front of him. But before you could even drop a single foot onto the carpeted floor, Matt’s hands hold you firm, halting your motions.

“No,” he whispers, pulling you back to him. “Not tonight.”

You stare at him, your eagerness to have him in your mouth mixing with the confusion of why he was preventing you from doing just that. The immediate response he gives you is another kiss, his hand returning to rest against your jaw. When he does pull away, you hear his sultry timbre echo around the room.

“I should be the one on my knees worshipping you, not the other way around.” 

His declaration burns through you, igniting a need that had been left untapped for years.

You were used to submitting to Matt Martin. You thought that you loved it. But now, here he was ready to bow to you and your desires and your will. That thought alone made a fire pool in your lower stomach, your lips pressing against his again.

His hands tighten against your skin, securing his grip on you as he lifts himself from the bed with you in his arms. The sensation of the smooth sheets pressing against your back is almost instantaneous, Matt’s lips falling from yours to retrace their previous pathway along your jaw, down the column of your throat and across your collarbones. You are about to lift yourself upright to pull the material of your dress away from your frame but Matt’s arms keep you pinned against the mattress. Instead, his hand simply tugs the fabric up, painstakingly exposing more of your skin to the cool air until the silk is bunched around your waist.

You feel Matt’s smile against your skin as his lips continue their descent, kisses placed against your stomach before he presses a whisper of one right above the edge of your panties.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes darting up to look at you.

The only sound that your voice can manage is a whine but it’s enough for Matt, his elegant fingers hooking and twisting around your waistband. Your head falls back as you lift your hips to help him pull the soft cotton away. He tugs the material down your legs at a painstaking pace, lifting your feet to unhook the elastic from around your ankles.

You expect – no, you need him to return to the apex of your thighs. But you soon realize how much Matt meant it when he said he planned on worshipping you.

His hands guide your feet to rest on his muscular thighs as his finger unbuckle your shoe, sliding it off before repeating the action on the other side. He lifts your leg, your bare heel now resting on the back of his shoulder and you sigh when you feel his lips press against your calf. They linger as he makes his way back up your frame, a kiss pressed on your shin, your knee, your inner thigh.

It feels like reverence. It feels like devotion – to you, to the way you make him feel.

Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair and gently tugging him closer to the place you needed him most. Matt lets you guide him and, after he brings both of your legs to rest on his shoulders, his arm wrapping around your waist, pinning your hips to the bed, he finally – finally – presses his mouth against your core.

A relieved sigh escapes your chest as Matt’s lips move, his tongue darting out to trace your folds. Your sighs turn to whimpers to moans as he continues his ministrations, remembering all the things that make your breathing hitch, your thighs shake. Remembering all the ways you come undone.

“Still so sweet,” he murmurs. “Still so desperate for me.”

He resumes his movements, winding you up in the most deliberate way. Your free hand twists into the sheets as he drags you closer to the edge, his tongue diving into your cunt before lifting to flick against your clit, the action causing your hips to jolt from beneath his strong arm. You swear that you are about to rip his sheets based on how tight you are holding them.

You’re too strung out to see Matt’s eyes lift, him noticing the death grip you have on the soft cotton covering the mattress. In your haze, you can feel the grip he has on your thigh loosen and depart but your mind doesn’t understand the reason until you feel his hand dancing across your fingers twisted in the sheets, silently coaxing you to release the fabric. You do and as soon as there is space, his fingers filling the gaps between yours, holding your hand tightly as his mouth continues to work its sinful magic against you.

Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, your back arching off the bed as the tidal wave of pleasure crashes through your body, radiating from your stomach down to the tips of each limb. Your hand tightens around his so firmly that you believe you must be cutting off circulation. But Matt doesn’t seem to mind, squeezing your hand tighter in response. He moans against your core in response to the taste of your release flooding his tongue, the vibration sending another round of shudders down your spine.

The feeling of Matt’s mouth and hands leaving you ignites a new wave of desperation, one that is only partially satiated when he returns to hover over you, kissing you deeply. You moan into his mouth when you taste the tang of your own essence still coating his tongue.

“I can’t believe I forgot how good you were at that,” you exhale when your lips fall from his.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget how gorgeous you look when you cum,” he murmurs, his head dipping down to your neck, his quiet assertation making you smile.

You let him press his lips against your throat, content to lay beneath him for the moment. But when you feel his hips roll against yours, his own hunger for you and your body not yet satisfied, another ache of need hits you. You pull his head back up to your face, capturing his lips in another feverish kiss.

Matt’s body hovers mere centimeters above yours, his hips pressed against you. The position makes it easy for you to hook your leg around him. Using what strength you had, you somehow manage to flip the two of you around, Matt’s back crashing onto the bed, your body now suspended above him.

You break the kiss, lifting yourself upright with a grin on your face as your hands trace over the ridges of his chest. His own hands dance up your thighs, sneaking beneath the hem of your dress to caress the soft skin around your hipbones. In the span of a breath, your fingers bunch the silken material of your gown, gathering it in your hands before you pull the fabric over your head.

The gentle sharp inhale of Matt’s breath as your body becomes entirely exposed to him is music to your ears. There is no stopping his hands as they continue to drift up your body, gliding over the curves of your hips and waist, dancing across your ribcage before coming to cup your breasts. He caresses the sensitive skin, his thumbs reaching to brush against your nipples causing your head to fall back, a soft plea for him to continue falling from your mouth. He listens, his fingers roving across your body, as if there was not an inch of skin that he wanted to leave untouched.

“Such a gorgeous perfect body,” he mutters, making the pool of desire within you fill again.

You lift your hips up only so far as to reach behind you, tugging at the fabric of his slacks and boxer briefs; a silent request. His hands fall from your body to pull the material down his legs and you feel him kick off the only remaining barriers between your bodies. You lean forward as you kiss him again, your hips sinking back down. A simultaneous moan escapes both of you as you grind against him, your arousal coating the soft skin of his shaft.

There is want and then there is pure unadulterated need and the latter is what takes a hold of you now. Your lips fall from his as you stretch your body forward, your arm reaching for the nightstand drawer, the place he used to – and now you hope still does – keep his condoms. Your progress is halted briefly by Matt’s head lifting to wrap his lips around your nipples, the action making another gasp sound your throat. You persevere, albeit somewhat distracted because of Matt’s ministrations, pulling open the drawer, relieved to see the box in the same place, thankful that not everything had changed.

But as you reach for one of the square packets, your eyes land on a stack of envelopes pushed against the other side and you swear you see your name scrawled across the white paper. You don’t have any time to linger on them as you feel Matt’s teeth gently nip at your skin, pulling your attention back to him.

“Please, darling, hurry up,” he implores, dark blue eyes looking up to you. “Need to get inside you.”

Who were you to deny him?

Your fingers grasp the foil, your body returning to its upright position above him. You rip open the packet, pulling the rubber from the confines and preparing it before you reach behind you, taking Matt in your hand. He throws his head back, his hair haloing around his face as you give him a few languid strokes before sliding the condom on.

There is no waiting, no more hesitation as you lift your hips up. Your free hand presses against the center of his chest for balance as you guide him to your entrance. You aren’t sure if it’s him or yourself you’re teasing when you slide the tip of him against your folds once, twice before you align yourself to him.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you sink down, the stretch of him entering you delectably foreign and yet comfortingly familiar. Matt has a similar reaction to the sensation of your walls wrapping around him, his hands flying up to your hips, his grip tightening around you so much so that you swear you’re going to have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the next morning.

“Fuck, darling,” he growls as your hips meet his, him bottoming out inside of you. “Still feel like fucking heaven around me.”

Your only response is a whimper as your eyes flutter shut, both of your hands now resting on his chest, using him for leverage as you begin to move. Matt guides the motion of your hips, helping you bounce on top of him, letting you grind against him, more sharp gasps falling from your lips as your clit rubs against the taut skin of his lower stomach.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he praises, fingers brushing against your skin as you ride him. “Take what you want from me. It’s yours to have.”

You whine, grinding your hips even deeper onto him, one of your hands lifting to tease your nipples. You missed this, the feeling of Matt hitting spots so deep in you, spots that no one else had been able to find before and since.

“God, I missed this,” Matt groans, echoing your thoughts, his eyes devouring your body. “Missed you.”

His words force you to open your eyelids and when your eyes lock, you almost cum simply from the way he is staring at you: like you were the most beautiful piece of artwork, like you were sculpted from the purest marble, crafted from the finest paints. Like you deserved to be hung in the Louvre.

“Matt,” you whine, his name falling from your lips in a plea as your movements falter against him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, his own voice strained and earnest. “What do you need?”

“Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he questions. But unlike the times before, he’s not asking in order to tease you, to be cruel, or to force you to beg him for a mere sliver of his attention. He is asking because he wants to hear you say it – wants to hear you confess that you’ve missed him and that you’ve been wanting him as much as he has been wanting you.

“Please,” you reply. “Please, I need it. I need you.”

Your words aren’t twinged with contempt, nor are they wretched from your mouth unwillingly. They fall from your lips because you mean them, because you want to beg for him – not the other way around.

A gasp is torn from your chest as Matt lifts himself up, his chest pressing against yours. His hands trace your spine, one burrowing into the hair at the nape of your neck, the other resting heavy on the small of your back. He pulls you to him, kissing you again and swallowing every noise that falls from your lips as he drags your hips into his.

You weren’t sure if it was because you were wound too tight or that you truly couldn’t comprehend what was happening because before you knew it, Matt had spun you around, flipping you once again so you were the one laying against the sheets. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips and before you can moan at the feeling of him thrusting into you, your sounds are muffled by his lips again.

Matt eventually breaks away, one arm reaching back to grip your thigh, pulling one leg higher, the new angle causing every stroke of him to brush against that damnable spot that made you see stars. You cry out, your head collapsing against the bed, Matt’s name falling from your lips.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Matt mutters, keeping his steady pace as he watches your body respond to his movements. “Missed how beautiful you look underneath me. Missed this perfect fucking pussy. Fucking taking all of me like it’s made for me.”

His possessiveness makes you whimper, the high-pitched sound catching his ear.

“That right, baby?” he asks. “This cunt still mine, even after all this time?”

“Yes,” comes your reply, wrapped in a strangled moan. “I’m all yours. I’m still yours,” you gasp out, your hips desperately chasing his.

“And I’m all yours,” Matt replies, his head dropping down to kiss you again. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”

He doesn’t speed up, content to keep his languid pace, steadily driving you towards that cliff. The noises that escape you are incoherent, a jumbled mess of curses and pleas as your walls flutter desperately around him. It feels like the most deliberate and exquisite torture, a pleasure that you would welcome time and time again if he would let you.

“Come on, darling,” you hear Matt’s voice whisper in your ear. “Remind me how good it feels when that beautiful cunt cums around me.”

It is the quiet demand that has you falling off the edge, your muscles stiffening as your orgasm hits you. You can hear a faint growl rumble from Matt, murmured praise being spoken into your skin like a prayer as he fucks you through it, your legs trembling as they fall from him.

Matt’s movements finally increase in speed as he chases own climax, each move of his hips making you whimper. You tug his head to you, kissing him fiercely and swallowing his groans as he stills and you bask in the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of you.

Your labored breaths mingle as you stay wrapped up together, sweat drenched foreheads pressed against each other as you both collect yourself. Matt’s hand, the one that that had been gripping your thigh, lifts to brush your hair away from your forehead as his eyes appraise you. You can’t stop the way your eyes close as he leans in, kissing you once again, his tongue dipping into your open mouth and you whine as you feel him slowly pull out of you.

He places a gentle chaste kiss against your lips before lifting himself off you, walking around the bed. Your eyes track his movements, watching as he stops at the nightstand, the top drawer still open. There is a flicker of some emotion that crosses his face before he pushes the drawer closed before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. You hear the water running before he returns, a warm damp washcloth in one hand and a t-shirt in the other.

Matt gently presses the washcloth against your skin, starting at your forehead and temples before descending until he reached the apex of your thighs, brushing away the lingering wetness of your release from your skin. He throws the towel into the hamper and holds out his hand, which you take. You let him lift your torso off the sheets as he hands you the t-shirt. He holds you steady while you slip the soft cotton over your head, the worn Maple Leaf emblem resting on your upper chest almost completely faded.

You collapse back against the sheets as Matt pulls on a pair of boxers before climbing next to you. His arms wrap around your body as he settles behind you, pulling your back close to his chest. Your own fingers lift to absentmindedly play with his as reality crashes back over you.

You aren’t sure what to say, if there even is anything to be said. You don’t want to ruin the golden halo of peace that surrounds the two of you but you knew you couldn’t just leave it like this. There were still too many questions unanswered, still too much uncertainty.

“What are you thinking about?” you hear Matt’s husky voice whisper from behind you. You sigh, wiggling in his grasp. He loosens his hold enough for you to spin and face him, his blue eyes soft as they take in the sight of you in his bed.

“A lot of things,” you answer, the response vague enough to let him decide whether to press on or to leave it at that. He decides to do the former.

“Like what?”

Your eyes lift to think, picturing the mess of thoughts in your head as you attempt to untangle each. The loose threads seem innumerable, too many to choose which was the most important to tug and which could be saved for a later moment. So, you just latch onto the first image that appears in your mind.

“Could I ask you a question?” you say, eyes connecting back to him.

“Of course.”

“When I was in your nightstand earlier,” you begin, carefully observing even the tiniest reactions that tug at Matt’s expression. “I saw a stack of envelopes and it looked like they had my name on them. What are they?”

There is a myriad of emotions that dance across Matt’s face, each more fleeting than the last before his features settle to what looks to you to be apathy or resignation. You feel your heart panic as his body turns away from, fearing that you spoke the wrong words – said the wrong thing. But it quiets when you watch him pull open the nightstand drawer, his hand reaching in. Your eyes follow his movements as he pulls out the stack of envelopes before spinning back to you.

“They’re for you,” he says, holding them out towards you. You take them from his hands, the bundle held tight by a rubber band. Your fingers flip through each of them, finding your name written on every single one. Your eyes dart from the paper back to him and you swear you see his cheeks tinge a lightish pink.

“My therapist suggested that I write you letters.”

“Your therapist?”

“Yeah. I started seeing him shortly after you left,” he explains, his hand reaching behind to awkwardly scratch at the nape of his neck. “Realized that there was a lot I needed to work on.”

“Why didn’t you send them?”

“I didn’t know your new address,” he tells you, the candor in his voice strengthening as he continues. “And I was too proud to ask. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me. Thought you might throw them away if I did send them.”

You don’t respond, neither confirming or denying his assumption because in that moment, you weren’t certain what you would’ve done if a letter from him had appeared in your mailbox.

“What’s in them?” you ask, choosing to revert to a safer statement.

“Things I wanted to say to you. Things I never said to you when you needed to hear them. Everything I wanted to tell you but never got the chance to.”

There is a silence as you take in his declaration, your curiosity piquing as your fingers trace the edges of the envelopes. There is a desire to read them but also a fear, unsure if the contents would contain blame or apologies or gaslighting or regret.

“You don’t have to read them now,” Matt speaks again, his voice drawing your attention back to him.  “You don’t have to read them at all if you don’t want to. They’re yours to do whatever you please.”  

Something inside you tells you that it’s dangerous; that it’s a bad idea to open them. To trace over the words and strong emotions that forced him to put pen to paper. To allow Matt Martin back into the heart that you’ve spent years repairing. But when you feel his hand trace down the side of your face, his fingers twirling a strand of your hair, you realize that that line had already been blurred beyond recognition.

You didn’t know what a bad idea was when Matt was around. You had already done so many things that you shouldn’t have with him. What was one more bad idea compared to the thousands you acted on before?

What was this bad idea in comparison to one that brought you to Matt Martin’s bed in the first place?

Your mind swirls with all the drastic changes you had experienced in such a short amount of time. How different the world felt right now versus a few hours ago. How different the man sitting next to you was from the man you left in a Long Island bar two years ago. You felt as if you lived twenty lifetimes since you woke up. The past, the present, and every possible future tangled together in your mind, an amalgamation of all that had happened and all that could happen.

But you didn’t want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was sink into Matt Martin’s arms and hold him close.

So, that’s exactly what you did.

You gently turn away from Matt, reaching up to place the stack of envelopes on top of the neighboring nightstand. There was still uncertainty whether you would read them, but the action of keeping them meant that you would consider it. And when you face Matt again, it seems that – for him – that was enough. This time, it is you who reaches out to intertwine your hand with his, scooting closer to him. He follows your lead, his body sinking into the mattress until you are pressed together, side by side. Your head comes to rest on chest, your eyes closing, the sound of his strong heartbeat echoing in your ear.

Right before sleep overtakes you, you manage to whisper to him the truth that your heart sang out, the sentence that you realized you couldn’t deny even after months of trying to do just that.

“I missed you too.”

The last thing you register is a soft kiss pressed onto the crown of your head, and encompassed in Matt’s warm embrace, you let the feeling of peace wash over you.

… but it’s gonna be alright. I did my time…

a/n 2.0: I did decide to leave it a little open ended because i just liked the feeling of it better. but if you want to know how what i think happens after this, i will direct you to this mashup

tagging the babes who made writing this so rewarding: @texanstarslove @comphy-and-cozy @smileysvech @laurenairay @dissonannce @cowboybarzy @cellythefloshie @provokedgoalie @m00nlightdelights @tkachvkmatthew @cixrosie @alwaysclassyeagle @geospatialharmony

[kniesyswrld]

Video ~ Matt Martin

Summary: You invite your boyfriend, Matt Martin, on your Youtube channel to let him do your makeup for a video.

Warning(s): None. Maybe cursing if that matters to you

•..•..•..•

“Matt, do you want to do a video with me?” I asked him and he looked up from him phone. “Depends on which video.” He says to me.

I showed him the inspiration from another YouTube couple and he nods. “Yes, I’ll do it with you.” He said and he gets up to follow me.

“Hey guys, it’s Y/N! Today, Im with my boyfriend, Matt.” I say and point to him and he waves. “Hello.” He chuckled and I smiled.

“We will be doing a challenge today where Matt will be doing my makeup. I cannot help him at all.” I said and he looked at me.

“You did not tell me that.” He says and I smirk, “Sorry, baby.” I say and peck his lips.

I grab my makeup bag and placed it on the table, “Okay, Matt. What do you think goes first?” I asked him and he sighed, he picks out different products and then finally chooses one.

“This.” He says and I chuckled, “You think concealer goes first?” I asked him and he nods. I shrug and he hesitantly placed it where he thinks it goes.

I hand him the beauty blender and he did his best to properly blend it, “That looks beautiful!” He said and I laughed at his reaction.

“Don’t look until I’m finished, Y/N.” He says and I nod. “Okay, what do you think is next?” I asked and he picked up foundation.

I sighed, “Okay.” Is all I said, “Don’t say it like that. It makes it sound like you’re doubting my masterpiece.” He said.

“Sorry.” I laughed and he just grins, when he squeezes the foundation on my face he used a lot. “Shit.” He says and I gasp, “Family channel!” I said and he laughed.

He tried to blend it, but it looked extremely runny. “It’s okay, baby. Just when you get to powder, use a little more powder than normal.” I shrug.

“Thank goodness for powder because you look like the peanut butter baby.” He laughed and I rolled my eyes playfully.

The next step, Matt instantly found my powder. “Here’s what could make or break the face, ladies and gents.” Matt says, displaying the powder as if he’s a pro with makeup.

“If you use too much, your client will look like an old person. But if you made your client look the way I made mine, it could make them look gorgeous.” He says.

He took the puff out of my powder and put some under my eyes, sides of my nose, and under my cheekbones because he’s seen me do this a lot.

“Now, if I remember, we don’t mix it in her face until the end.” He winks. “Matt.” I laughed and he just chuckled to himself.

He closes the lid to my powder and pushed it off to the side, “Now, this is where you can wing it. This big thing looks interesting so I wanna do it next.” He said, grabbing an eyeshadow palette.

“Oh okay.” I just say and he took his finger and placed it on my lip, signaling for me to hush. “What color do you want, my lady?” He asked, after he opened it up.

I shrug, “You must pick.”

He groans, “Fine, we’ll do red.” He says and picks the darkest red. I made a face at the camera and closed my eyes for him.

“Baby, move back a bit.” He says and I pushed myself back some. “Perfect.” He says as he stood up and he got into the ‘perfect angle’ to do my eyeshadow.

He snorted a laugh out when he saw how he did with my eyes, “It’ll look better when I do the next step.” He says, hope laced in his voice.

“Can I do your eyelashes?” He asked and I chuckled, “What about eyeliner?” I asked and he nods, “Ah.” He just said and looks carefully for my eyeliner.

When he found it, he did his best wing. “It ain’t terrible!” He says and I chuckled. “Now eyelashes?” He asked and I nod.

“I want to use these big ones!” He said and I showed him the glue and he carefully TRIES to put them on but I could feel them coming off a bit.

He tries to hide his smile when he takes a look at his progress. “Yeah, I think I’m doing great.” He says and looks for another makeup product.

“This!” He says and found some highlighter. He puts the highlighter on with his finger directly on my nose and forehead. “Oop.” I just said and he makes a face at me.

“Bitch, quit judging.” He said and I smacked him, he realized what I meant and he covered his mouth.

He found the contour next and just placed it directly on my cheeks without blending, “Why doesn’t this work?” He asked and kept adding more.

“Baby, you’re supposed to blend it.” I said and he slowly nods, “Right, I knew that everybody!” He says and grabs the concealer beauty blender and blended it out.

He snapped his fingers and popped his hip, “Yes girl!” He says in a girly voice, “Oh my.” I laughed and he chuckled.

“Baby, do you have blush?” He asked.

I gasped, “You knew what it was actually called instead of calling it cheek stainer!”

He put his finger over my lips again, signaling for me to hush. “I never called it that, baby. I am a beauty guru, don’t say that I said that.” He said.

“My bad.” I chuckled and he looked for my blush, when he found it. He put an excessive amount and he gasped when he saw me, then covered his laugh with his hand.

I sighed, “Matt, did you ruin it?” I asked and he shook his head. “Nope. Masters don’t make mistakes.” He said and I chuckled.

“I am done!” He said and I furrowed my eyebrows. He realized that he wasn’t and grabbed lipgloss. Matt placed a big glob on my lips and told me to rub my lips together.

He then wiped away my powder, “Now I’m done.” He says and I looked down at the ground because he forgot about my lip liner and eyebrows and setting spray.

“You sure?” I asked and he overlooks my face, “Yep!” He said and I nod, “Give me my mirror, please.” I say and he hangs it to me.

When I look at myself, I burst out laughing. He looked confused, “First of all, you never started my face out with primer. Plus you missed my eyebrows. And you forgot lip liner and setting spray.” I said.

“Bro, do you seriously use that stuff though?” He asked and I nod. “Yes.” I laughed as I kept looking at myself.

I tried fixing the lashes but it didn’t work. “I rate it a 3/10.” I said and he gasped. “That’s harsh! I did easily a 9.5” He says and I chuckled.

“No way.” I say and he say down, crossing his arms. “She’s a hater.” He says and I laughed, “It’s okay, I still love you.” I said to him.

He let me kiss him and I did my outro.

- -

“Was that fun?” I asked and he nodded, “You should let me be on your channel more often.” He says and I laughed.

I begin taking my makeup off and he went back to the couch, “I should start watching you do your makeup more often.” He sighed and I nod.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Five Times You Almost Kissed Mat Barzal and The One Time You Did

Warnings: None, not proofread

Word Count: 3.4k

Five 

“Do something with it!!” you yell angrily at the screen and Mat laughs lightly next to you. 

You fall back into the couch with a huff, Mat still laughing next to you. You look up at your best friend, a light smile placed on his lips and you reflect it, before rolling your eyes at him. 

“Can I help you?” you ask and he shakes his head, his smile turning more into a mischievous grin. 

“Nope. Just enjoying knowing what you look like at my games,” he responds. 

You roll your eyes again but a hint of a smile forces its way onto your lips, your feelings wanting to escape every minute you were next to Mat. You push them back instead, snuggling next to Mat on the couch. Your hands find their way to his bicep, holding on lightly as your head falls to his shoulder. 

Mat moves one hand to the back of your thigh, pulling you closer to him while effectively sending your heart straight into the stratosphere. You lean into his side, but his hand doesn’t move from its place on your leg. You try to slow your heartbeat down as you relax into Mat’s warm figure but your focus falls from the game to the boy next to you. 

Your eyes trail over the time, seeing it’s nearing midnight and sudden tiredness takes over you. Mat’s warmth does nothing to help, only making your eyes flutter to a close with ease. 

Mat’s eyes are trained on the TV with an attempt to ignore the growing thump of his heart when he’s around you. He had claimed he didn’t want to watch the game with you, but in reality, he’d do anything if it meant he could be by your side. His eyes trail over to you, a soft smile crawling onto his lips. 

Mat nudges you awake and your eyes flutter back open, searching for a moment to look over the TV before turning to Mat. Your chin props on top of his shoulder and you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Stay awake, you’re the one who wanted to watch the game,” he reminds you and you smile tiredly. 

“Hush I know,” you say. 

You search his eyes, a steady silence falling around the two of you. Your heart beats rapidly against his arm, and you wonder if he can feel the shakiness of your touch. 

Mat is entranced by your gaze, wanting to look everywhere but your eyes but not being able to. He aches to close the distance between the two of you, to change your relationship status, and yet all he could do was look into your mesmerizing (y/e/c) eyes. 

“MacKinnon with the rebound and he shoots, scores!!” The announcers pull you both from your trance, scaring you off from the possibility. 

Four 

Your morning was seriously not going as planned. 

You had forgotten your textbooks for your class, forgotten your students' essays to grade, forgotten to make lunch or bring money for it, and basically forgot all important things for your school day. It was a nightmare, to say the least. All you could really do was chalk it up to it being the end of the school year and hope you make it through the day. 

Mat had noticed you left everything at home when he woke up. It was his day off, the coach giving them a break from practice and even though he would head to the gym later, he still decided to sleep in a little. When he entered your shared living room, he noticed your textbooks and the essays you were grading sprawled out on the coffee table. 

A frown burrowing on his face as he makes his way into the kitchen to find a half-made lunch and your lunch bag sitting on the counter. He pouts at the sight, knowing you must have been beyond stressed and frustrated that you left your things. 

He had seen you do this before, whenever the end of the school year came, or a stressful point happened in your life you were chronic at forgetting things. It was an unfortunate habit of your messy mind but it happened. However, Mat had always noticed and always made the attempt to bring you anything you needed. 

He pulls out his phone, not seeing any texts or notifications from you but shrugging it off. He gathers up your stuff as neatly as possible before heading back into his room to change into something somewhat appropriate to wear at your school. 

You hit fourth period, only feeling the day weigh on you more and more as you realize how frazzled the end of the year makes you. You were opening seven thousand different tabs, trying to grade student work, and pull up the content you would teach as your students waited patiently for you to give them instructions. 

“Okay guys,” you say, finally standing to start the class. 

Mat had the drive to your school memorized by now. He loved visiting you and seeing you working away as you got to see him so often. It was the cutest thing, your short self commanding a room of teenagers, some listening intently and asking questions, others not always taking you seriously. 

Today he approaches your classroom, the door swung wide open as your voice booms over the room. He relaxes into the doorway, head tilted as he looks at you, refusing to bother you just yet as you teach. His eyes trail your figure, a soft but proud smile resting on his lips. 

Your students had noticed him before you did, some smiling and waving at him. He waves back, recognizing some of your students who he’s met before. His head leans against the door, a lovestruck look in his eyes, and your students have completely lost the point of your lesson, watching a love story unfold before them. 

Finally, your eyes follow theirs, reaching the doorway to see Mat standing there. Your confusion turns partly to embarrassment and part to joy seeing your best friend there. 

“No, go back to teaching,” he waves your look off before you can even say anything. 

“What’s up?” you ask, ignoring his plea. 

You knew the minute you had become aware of Mat’s presence you wouldn’t be able to focus. Your thoughts go blank at his presence and narrowing on your shaky hands, rapidly beating heart. Mat crosses the room to you, handing you the things you forgot this morning. 

“I came to drop your stuff off and take you to lunch?” he questions and you grin. 

“Give me a few minutes? The bell’s gonna ring soon.” 

Mat nods telling you he’s gonna run to the bathroom and come back to grab you before he can take you to lunch. You watch his figure retreat, a dopey smile left on your lips and when you turn back to your students they grin at you. 

“Miss, are you guys finally dating?” Comes from one of your girls in the back. 

“Guys we’re just friends,” you tell them and your boys groan. 

“Does he say that or do you?” a boy in the back asks. 

“Well,” 

“Oh my god Miss,” they all groan and you laugh. 

You usher them back to learning but the bell rings and just as soon as Mat has left he’s back and saying goodbye to your students. Once they’re gone he makes his way to you, looking proud and mischievous all in one. 

“Hey you’re pretty good at this,” he says and you laugh. 

“Well thank you,” you say, moving around the room to clean up after your students. 

“Hey,” Mat says, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“I mean it. You’re a great teacher.” 

A blush covers your cheeks, a hand comes to rest on Mat’s side and he gazes down at you, your heart doing backflips as you look up at your best friend. His hand slides from your arm to your shoulder, pulling you flush against him. Your other hand lays on his chest, his heart slamming steadily against your fingertips.

Your eyes search each other’s hearts beating hard in anticipation. You stand on your tiptoes inching closer to Mat, he leans down, his forehead touching yours and for a moment you think everything might change. 

“Shit, sorry (y/n/n),” you hear, pulling you and Mat from each other. 

You look up to see one of your fellow teachers in the doorway, a blush covering his cheeks as he catches you and Mat together. You plop your head on Mat’s chest, chuckling lightly before pulling away and dragging him out the door with you.

Three

As weird as it sounded, you loved blasting music in your room, folding laundry, and dancing around like an absolute idiot. Mat was at practice leaving the apartment to you, and you were taking full advantage of it. Your favorite Bazzi album surrounds the room as you dance and work on folding all of yours and Mat’s laundry. 

Mat was somewhat grateful practice ended early. He felt like he hadn’t spent any time with you in ages and was missing your smile. He headed home instantly, declining to go out with his friends knowing you would be home. 

He raced home, dropping his stuff at the door and following the sound of your music playing loud in the apartment. He makes his way to your door, a dorky smile finding its way onto his lips as he watches you. 

You dance unknowingly around the room, singing quietly under your breath to whatever song had you entranced for the moment. Your music changed like your emotions and Mat had a special talent for knowing how you felt just from the song you were playing. 

You fold clothes mindlessly, throwing yours in one pile and his in the other. The tiny chore done for him makes his heart pound. It was simple and dumb but he loved your selflessness nonetheless. 

As one song ends, Mat decides to make his presence known, 

“Bravo!” he yells. 

You jump, ten feet in the air it feels like when you hear Mat’s voice come from behind you. You whip around, glaring at Mat before placing one hand on your knee, the other on your chest, clutching your heart as it pounds from the scare. 

“Mathew Barzal!” you yell employing your best friend’s full name. 

Mat cackles loudly, mimicking your movements as he bends over to laugh at his best friend. You pick up a piece of clothing, throwing it half-heartedly at him as your heart starts to slow down. As Mat watches you slowly gain your composure, an idea sparks, mischief behind his eyes forming. 

“Mat,” you warn, knowing the older boy has an idea planned. 

Mat rushes forward, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you down onto the bed with him. You shriek loudly as your back hits the mattress with a thud, Mat landing on top of you. 

“Barzal!” you yell frustrated but there’s a hint of laughter in your annoyance and Mat can spot it, giggling quietly against you. 

“I thought I’d help,” he says, propping his chin up to look at you. 

You gaze down at him, grinning madly at the dumb but unbelievably lovable boy beneath you. Mat’s hair falls before his eyes and you lift one hand up to push it out of the way. Mat catches your hand as you card your fingers through his hair, pulling it to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers. 

You freeze at the contact, watching Mat’s every move. Your song changes into the background, one of the very few Bazzi love songs only making your heart float higher. Mat moves slightly, one of his hands resting next to your head, the other trailing up and down your side. Your breath hitches as he lowers to meet you, his nose brushing yours. 

The dryer sounds, beeping loud and scaring you both more than Mat did a few minutes ago. Mat jumps, dropping his head back down on your stomach and you feel the sigh he releases. 

Two

“One dance?” Noah begs and you roll your eyes. 

“Mat?” you ask, trying to get your best friend to help you. 

“Nope this is between you two,” he responds, taking a long sip of his drink. 

“You owe me,” Noah reminds you, and you nod before taking his outstretched hand. 

Noah leads you away, your only look back to your best friend is the wink he sends you and you flip him off but smile anyway. 

Noah sweeps you up, hands wrapped around your waist as you move around the room together. He had needed someone to dance with, part to make another girl jealous, part to get over another girl and you were reluctant but fine with helping out a friend as much as possible. You also owed Noah, him knowing about your massive crush on Barzy, had him covering for you and playing wingman in more ways than one. 

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” he asks as you sway slowly around the ballroom. 

“Are you ever going to tell her?” you turn it back on him and he nods, a blown-out smile in return. 

“Touche.” 

You dance for a bit longer in silence, but your gaze falls to Mat every so often. 

“See here’s the thing,” Noah says, pulling your attention back to him. You stare into his eyes, awaiting the wisdom the defenseman would drop onto you. “If you tell him, you could be dancing with him and not me.” 

“I think even if I was dating him I’d end up dancing with you Noah,” you joke and he laughs. 

“Yeah but it’s because you’re just so damn irresistible,” he jokes back, making you throw your head back in laughter. 

Mat hasn’t taken his eye off of you since you walked away with his teammate. His teammate knew his feelings for the girl and wondered why he would put him through the torture of this jealousy. He watches Noah hold the girl he loves the way he should, and his heart twists when her head is thrown back in laughter, the sound ringing in his head. 

He can’t help the movement in his legs when the song ends and another begins and Noah still has his hands on you. He marches up to the two of you, Noah noticing his presence first and nudging you to look over at him. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

“All yours,” Noah says, handing your hand to him and Mat is happy to sweep you up into his arms. 

“Ah a much better dancer,” you say and Mat grins widely down at you. 

“What were you guys talking about?” 

“Oh, Noah’s just spilling all of your deep dark secrets,” you grin mischievously. 

“You mean all the things you already know?” 

“Exactly doll,” you joke and he chuckles and shakes his head. 

Mat’s heart was surprisingly calm dancing with you like this is where he’s supposed to be. With Noah, you looked everywhere, mostly trying to look at Mat, but now you couldn’t keep your eyes off the dance partner in front of you. The moment created before you, the two of you are the only ones in the world at this point. 

Your movements had slowed to barely a sway, entranced by each other. You can feel the two of you moving closer, the tension building and your heart slowing but your hands shaking. 

“Hey, can I-” 

You both pull back to see Noah grinning dorkily at the two of you. You don’t realize it but the middle man of your relationship receives the same look just as Noah takes your waist again, and Mat walks away both of you sad that your moment is ruined. 

One 

The slam of a puck against the boards makes you jump, instantly waking you up from your tired 6 am state. You pull your iced coffee to your chest and take a sip, propping a hand up to rest your cheek on it. 

You hadn’t been to an early practice in a while but wanted to surprise Mat with coffee and breakfast afterward. You also knew that if you woke up early and showed up at the rink you could get some work done as you listened to the boy’s practice. 

Mat didn’t notice you were in the stands at first. Noah was the one to nudge him till he lost his balance, and point up to the row where you sat. It was not unlike what you looked like at home, papers spread around you, head bent, lip tugged between your teeth, as you scribbled across the papers furiously. He pauses to focus on you and ends up with a check to his side by Pageau. 

“Come on man,” Mat groans, stumbling to catch himself. 

“Pay attention man,” he calls, and both he and Noah skate off laughing. 

The rest of practice is fast and hard, Mat’s attention splits between you and the tasks at hand, and when coach calls it to an end Mat has never felt more grateful. He skates off quickly, darting into the locker room. He showers and makes his way to where you sat in the arena. 

You sit blissfully unaware of what’s going on around you, not realizing practice has ended. Your head is still bent over your work and you miss Mat sneaking up behind you. 

“Authorized personnel only miss,” Mat jokes and your heart jumps for a moment but you hide it with a smile, lifting your head just barely and turning to meet his gaze. 

“Oh sorry I thought I had an in with a player,” you explain as he sits down next to you. 

“Really? Who?’ 

“Noah Dobson? He’s just so dreamy I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get married,” you continue the ruse and Mat shoves your head jokingly and you laugh loudly. 

“Seriously, what are you doing here so early?” 

“Wanted to get some work done. But I also wanted to take you out to breakfast. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a while.” 

Mat grins as he leans over your work, his head replacing your previous view and you grin down at the older boy. Your eyes search his, joy radiating between the two of you as you fall quiet. You think about just closing the distance, finally breaking this growing tension. 

“Hey! Authorized people only!” A guard yells and you both giggle lightly as you pull away. 

You both hold bittersweetness in your heart but smile nonetheless as you walk away together and head to breakfast. 

And One 

“You have to pay attention to every second or else we’re no longer friends,” you tell Mat as he sits down and you throw your legs over his. 

He places the bowl of popcorn in your lap, your hands digging in instantly and Mat reaches for the remote pressing play in the comedy special. 

You insisted he watch Bo Burnham’s new special on netflix, the one that had you bawling by the end of it but meant the world to you. Mat had only agreed to watch because he knew you adored it. 

“Yup definitely paying attention,” he says, picking up his phone for a moment. 

You set the popcorn bowl down, reaching for Mat’s phone and he pouts at your action. You both end up giggling as your short arms try to reach his phone held into the air above you. 

You wiggle around moving so you’re practically straddling his lap as you grab his phone. When it’s in your hand, you smile widely claiming victory. 

You throw his phone to the side, finally looking down at Mat who’s had his eyes on you the entire time. Your hands fall to his chest, his heartbeat familiar under your fingertips. 

Mat’s hand comes up, his finger tilting your chin down to come closer and your foreheads press against each other. Your noses brush, breath mingling in wait. 

Mat’s other hand trails your waist, gripping it lightly while the other cups your cheek. He finally pulls you in, his lips pressing against yours firmly. You sink into the feeling letting out a sigh. 

The hype had definitely lived up, every inch of tension resolving and fizzling out in the kiss that was built since the day you met. You chase your feelings back and forth in the kiss not wanting to break thinking this would be the last time.

[ilyasorokinn]

always a winner ― ilya sorokin

note, i love ilya, and can’t believe i haven’t written as many things as i have for other players. he’s literally the love of my life, and i’ve kind of neglected him lol. anyways, this fic is part of the "sorokin, party of four" series. check out this masterlist for more. another note, also, let's please not talk about how this is like a 300 years late. i'm so behind on things and so tired and i think i'm getting burn out? but idk so let's just enjoy that i wrote something :) all-star fics are in the works. last note, sorry one last note. in this fic, mila is 4 and victor isn't really in this, but he is 2 :) summary, regardless of the outcome, ilya sorokin is the best dad in the world to his kids. warnings, kids/children word count, 1286 words (a little short, i'm sorry. it's just ilya being cute with mila ig)

mila’s eyes were wide as she took in the converted football field. she was wearing her sorokin jacket and a beanie with a sequined ‘30’ on it. victor was only 2, so you left him with ilya's parents because you knew he wouldn't remember most things.

"mama, look!" mila pointed up at something before her attention was grabbed by something else. you tried your best to keep up with her but she was running on sugar and adrenaline, a dangerous combo for a toddler.

"i know," you laughed, "slow down, mimi." you called after her. you eventually spotted the girls and all the kids, standing off to the side of the field, talking and taking everything in as well, "look, there's your friends." she quickly spotted all the other kids and ran over to join them.

you followed after her a little slower, wrapping your jacket tighter around you and taking everything in. it still was mind-boggling to you, even a decade later, that this was your life. you were in metlife stadium, watching your husband play the sport he loved, surrounded by a group of girls doing the same thing. it was special.

"take it all in." kristy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "it's magical."

"this is so insane." you laughed.

after bribing mila with some more sugar and almost having a meltdown, the guys finally came out. before family was let out onto the ice, all the media content was taken. once that was all taken care of, family was finally let onto the ice.

once he was able to, ilya immediately made his way over to you and snatched up mila, flipping her upside down, making her giggle like crazy.

"put me down, papa!" she giggled, trying to get out of his grasp. he put her back down and set her down on the bench. he made quick work of helping her tie her skates and helping her get her helmet and pads on.

after helping mila, he turned to you. even though you had been together for a decade and no matter how much you protested, he would always help you put your skates on.

he kneeled in front of you and grabbed your foot, tying your skate, "new trick?" mila asked. she had been taking skating lessons for a few weeks.

"you want to show everyone your new trick?" she nodded her head, "of course, you can," you smiled, kissing her head and switching legs so ilya could tie the other skate. once he was done, he helped you off the bench, and you each grabbed one of mila's hands, walking her over to the ice.

all around you, the rink was a buzz. everyone was skating around. kids were playing mini sticks, guys were skating around, girls were mingling and skating.

it took a few laps, but eventually, mila was comfortable with skating and let go of your hands and skated around. you and ilya followed behind her and when she did fall, ilya was quick to pick her up and soothe her before she could start crying.

ilya skated off to the bench and grabbed a stick he had brought for her and handed it to her. varlomov's kid was in front of the net, just like their dad, so mila winded up and skated shakily up to the net with the puck and managed to get it past them.

she turned around and looked at you, shocked that she had done it. you both gave her a thumbs up, "celly." you told her. she did a little celly, which the media team had caught on camera and would later be posted on the isles social media account.

she skated over to ilya, who picked her up and held her to his chest, "that was amazing, mimi." you cheered, patting her on the back.

she skated around a little more before she was distracted and started playing with the other kids. you managed to take lots of pictures and got a picture of mila with her favorite guy on the team, mat barzal, cause of course her favorite uncle is uncle maty.

mat carried her around the rink, making her laugh and giggle (which gave the media team more amazing content of mat with a child). you and sydney got pictures of matt holding mila and ilya holding winnie which melted your heart.

the next day, mila somehow overcame the sugar rush and was filled with even more energy. the entire way back to metlife, she was bouncing around in her seat in the car.

"mimi, calm down." you laughed, watching her talk to herself through the rearview mirror, "now remember, when we get there..."

"i know, i know. hold your hand and don't let go, i know." she sighed. you didn't have to look back to know she was rolling her eyes. you knew where she got her attitude from.

"good." you nodded. you looked back at victor, who, on the other hand, was as calm as a cucumber in his seat. he had been occupying himself and barely paying attention to his sister.

you arrived at metlife earlier than all the fans attending, and met up with a few other girls, as well as your parents and all of the family ilya had invited. it wasn't many people, but you were excited to see them.

after pregaming the game with a few of the girls, fans started to arrive. there was a good mixture of both rangers and islanders fans so you were excited. you had left mila and victor with ilya's parents and your's so you could go off with the girls to get snacks and drinks.

by the time you had returned, mila already had a bag of cotton candy and victor was asleep, his headphones on so he couldn't hear all the loud noise. when mila saw you, she looked at you, her eyes big and scared.

"who gave you cotton candy, miss mila?" you asked. without hesitation, she pointed over to your dad. you looked over at him and raised a brow.

"who am i to deny my grandchild?" he simply shrugged, accepting a piece of cotton candy mila was offering him. you shook your head and smiled before turning your attention to the game.

the first period of the game was strong. the isles were up 3-1 and everything was looking good. by the end of the second, it was 4-3 and by the end of the third, it was tied and mila was asleep.

then, 10 seconds into overtime, panarin scored and the rangers fans in the crowd went crazy. when the horn blared, an overwhelming feeling of sadness filled your heart. you knew ilya tried his best and he would probably beat himself up about it.

you left mila and victor with your parents and ilya's family, who would drive back to your home where they were all staying, and you would drive back with ilya.

you followed alexa, matilda, and emma down to meet up with the guys. when you saw ilya walk out of the locker room, you couldn't help but smile. he managed a sad smile back and made his way over to you.

no words were said as he wrapped his arms around you. you stayed like that for a few minutes, just wrapped in a hug. you pulled away and cupped his face, "i'm proud of you." you leaned your forehead against his.

he nodded, "you were amazing, ilya." he nodded again before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "let's go home. order some sushi and go to sleep." you grabbed his hand and let him lead you over to his car.

-

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[swissboyhisch]

Drunken Mistakes

Pairing: Mathew Barzal x Reader

Summary: After receiving some bad news, you just wanted to not be alone. After a couple drinks, what most likely is a bad decision, starts to sound too good to miss.

Word Count: 2576

Warnings: Alcohol, friends with benefits, bad thoughts 

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THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Alcohol. Something to numb the pain. Anything honestly. 

After the news you just received, you wanted some kind of distraction. You didn’t want to stay in your hotel room alone. Being in the city, away from your home. You wanted some kind of comfort. Sure, you had some friends living in the city, but everyone was busy. Leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Mat then popped into your mind. An ex-fling. Your childhood best friend that you had reconnected with. One you had a friends-with-benefits situation with. After nights of constant talking and hours-long phones on the way home from work, you had caught feelings for Mat. In return, he ghosted you. Yes, he had warned you not to catch feelings, but it still hurt. 

Neither of you had messaged each other for months. The last thing you discussed was your travels through Europe and how you were doing amazingly. During that conversation, Mat had admitted he was lonely. But something was telling you to text him at this very moment. Maybe it was just your desperate need not to be alone.

Hey

Within minutes Mat had replied. When he asked how you were going, you told him the truth. Not good… Well, more like horrible. With that admission, Mat drove to your hotel to pick you up. Promising to be there as quickly as he could. 

You grabbed some clothes for the night and the phone charger before heading down to the lobby to wait for Mat. It didn’t take long before the familiar mop of hair weaved through the few people standing about the lobby. 

“Hey,” Mat muttered, pulling you into a hug. He could tell you weren’t doing the greatest. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You relax into his body. Your body goes slack in Mat’s arms, holding you against him. “Can we go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” Mat replies. 

The brunette grabbed your bag from your hands and placed his hand on your lower back to guide you out of the hotel. His luxurious car was parked in the valet. Mat opened your door, allowing you to slide into the passenger seat and get comfortable. Once Mat pulled out of the hotel, he drove through the city. The music playing on Bluetooth became the soundtrack to your life as you stared out the window.

“The new place,” You finally spoke up, seeing the building come into view. 

“Yeah, the new place.”

You noticed things that were not Mat’s when you walked into his apartment. A pair of shoes near the door that wasn’t his style. A pair of keys to a car that wasn’t his. Well, that you knew of.

“No roommate?”

Mat chuckled at the question, “I got a roommate, one of the traded guys.”

That made your heart hurt—more than it already was. Anthony Beauvillier was one of your closest friends, especially when you and Mat were hooking up. And now he lives in Vancouver. If you were hurting, you could only imagine how Mat was taking the whole ordeal.

“Have you talked to Tito recently?” You ask.

“Every day. Want a drink?”

The yes flew out of your mouth faster than you could predict. After looking through Mat’s vast selection of expensive alcohol, you decided to have a Jack and Coke. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and mixer, a glass from the cupboard, and a shot glass.

“How strong?”

“At least a double,” You answered.

Then the tour began. He started in the kitchen and living room. The occasional picture of his family is scattered on the walls and shelves. Next was the balcony. Quite considerable and well-decorated. The area's main feature is a comfy couch facing the city's view. The last room on the list was his bedroom, which was very Mat: simple colours, well shades of black and white. The wardrobe with mirrors for sliding doors was on the left as you walked in. Across the room was a large window. A dresser with a tv opposite his bed sat centre on the wall to your right—every bit Mat as you’d like. 

“My teammate isn’t home, so do you wanna watch a movie in the lounge room?”

“Let me get comfy first,” You mutter, placing your drink on the dresser as you put your bag in the corner of the room. 

After changing, you joined Mat on the couch. His feet kicked up on the poof he had, and an enormous blanket lay over his lower half. Without saying anything, you slid under the blanket and sat directly beside him, despite the space on the couch. 

“What movie?”

You look at the options on Netflix, “I don’t know.”

“You choose,” Mat decided, handing you the remote. 

“Why?” You laughed.

“You’re the guest.”

“Come on, Mat.”

You gave up on that argument quickly and just flicked through the app. Nothing piqued your interest, and Mat wasn’t any help. Then you came upon Molly’s Game. From the description, it was about an Olympian who runs a high-end poker game for the mafia and prominent stars who ends up on the radar of the FBI. It sounded exciting, and you hadn’t watched it, so you pressed play. 

The two of you sat watching the movie, alcoholic drink in hand. The occasional comment or questions asked between you about things that had happened recently. After a bit, you finally got comfy. You were leaning into Mat’s side, head on the shoulder. His arm slides up and around your shoulders. He was holding you tightly against his side. Both of you were settled. You came to trace shapes on his chest as you focused on the movie. His lightly ghosted up and down your back. 

It was quiet until Mat broke the silence between you both. “I forgot how easy it is with you.”

You felt that deeply. Whenever you and Mat had spent time together in the past, you didn’t have to try. Didn’t have to actively think about what to do. You both just worked so well together. Sometimes you wondered why he didn’t want a relationship with you if that was his thoughts. 

“Me too.”

You finished your drink quickly. It's likely quicker than you should have. Mat didn’t hesitate to grab your empty glass from your hand and get up to make you another drink. You watched as he walked around the couch and to the kitchen. Even twisting so you can lean on the back of the couch and watch him. He saw you looking at him and smiled at you. For a quick second, you felt those butterflies in your stomach, similar to when you two had first hooked up.

“Want to do a shot?” Mat asked as he finished making your drink.

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. Quickly joining Mat at his alcohol stash. “Of what?”

“I don’t know.”

After having a flashback to having had many nights when you were younger doing shots, you knew what you wouldn’t shoot. “Anything but vodka.”

“How about Fireball?” Mat asked as he grabbed his half-empty bottle. 

“Sounds great.”

Mat poured out the two shots. Pouring on the smaller side as the shooters were quite large. You both clinked your glasses before throwing back the amber liquid. Cinnamon. Quite pleasant, you thought. You both put down the glass before sharing a laugh. That was when you looked up at Mat and saw how close you were. Without hesitating, you went in for the kiss. Sure, neither of you had discussed how the night would end between you, but it seemed like there was an underlying tension, sexual. 

You both smiled at each other and settled back onto the couch. You were drinking and paying little attention to the movie on the large screen. Most of your attention was on Mat. Your hand started to wander. Starting on his chest and then making your way up to his jaw. He currently had more stubble than you had seen him with in the past. 

“I like the scruff,” You comment. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then silence once more. Both yours and Mat’s hands wandered, touching each other lightly. Nothing too inappropriate. Even the occasional snuggle into Mat’s chest resulted in his hand coming to scratch the back of your head lightly. Just comforting touches that you needed after the news you had heard earlier. 

You watched Mat skull the last bit of his beer, then place the empty bottle on the coffee table to his right. After handing him your drink to place on it, you struggle to get out of the tangled mess of blankets and legs. You made your way through the dark, well, low light, to the kitchen to grab a beer for the fridge. Mat watched in amusement as you walked a little tipsy.

“You didn’t have to,” Mat stated as you opened the fridge.

You grabbed the beer he was drinking, “Twist top?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” You hum before opening the bottle and returning to Mat’s side, handing him his drink before snuggling back to his side. Not without a quick peck to his lips. 

Midway through the movie and a few more drinks later, the kissing intensified. Your hand cups Mat’s scruffy jaw as he pulls you in closer. Fingers tangled into your hair. 

“Wanna move to the bedroom?” Mat mumbles against your lips.

“Sure.” Mat turned off the tv and placed the empty glass and bottles on the kitchen counter. You went to the bedroom while he did that. Placing your phone on charge and climbing in under the covers. 

Mat walked in and slipped off his t-shirt, revealing his abs. A sight you had missed. God, he was so good-looking. Angelic really. The light was changed to red, a staple between you and Mat when you were hooking up. It also doubled as a warning to Tito that you two were fucking. 

“Looking hot,” You grin as Mat makes his way to bed with you. 

With a hard tug, Mat falls on top of you. He dipped his head once more to capture your lips with his. You pressed your hips against him, feeling his hard-on under his sweats. Hands slid under your jumper. Pulling up the hoodie. Mat broke the kiss to slip off the article of clothing and throwing in the direction of your bag before returning to kiss your lips. 

“Mat,” You moaned as the brunette moved to kiss down your neck. 

He gently bit that sweet spot he had memorised, then smirked as you moaned again. “Found it.”

His words made you laugh lightly. Then cut off again by a moan since Mat slid a hand up into your hair. A tangled mess and slight tug. A staple move by the big-shot hockey player. In retaliation, you grazed your hands over his cock under his sweats, making Mat halt in his movements, a silent moan. You tug his sweatpants a little. 

“You want them off?” Mat smirks.

“Of course.”

Mat listens to your needs and stands up, gripping the waistband and sliding them down. His hard cock sprung out of the waistband. Slapping his abs with a satisfying skin-on-skin sound. 

“Your turn.” You lifted your hips, allowing Mat to slide off your sweatpants. Mat chuckled at your underwear. “You planned on getting some, didn’t you?”

“Can ya tell?” 

Without saying anymore, Mat slipped off your underwear and pulled your legs, sliding your body to the edge of the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist. You needed him closer. 

“Mat…”

You reached your hands up and pulled him down to your lips. Lips. Tongues. Wandering hands. A little biting on your part. After you and Mat hooked up last time, you knew to hold back on the biting. You moved to kiss down Mat’s neck, nipping and sucking as you went. 

His fingers tangled into your hair to pull you away, “Careful. No marking, you know that.”

“I know, I know. I wasn’t planning on doing it.”

The following day you awoke to Mat lying shirtless beside you in bed. Little snores were the only sound echoing around the room. Your phone was suddenly receiving notifications, buzzing on the side table. 

“What time is it?” You mumble to yourself. Leaning over to look at your phone. The glowing white numbers. 6:00 AM. “Fuck.”

You had forgotten to change the sleep focus for last night. Usually, you’d be up for work at this time hence why your phone turned notifications back on. You flicked it back onto sleep focus and rolled over to curl into Mat’s side.

“What’s the time?” He mumbles, barely even awake.

“6.”

“Go back to sleep,” Mat huffed. 

For the next two hours, the pair of your drifted in and out of sleep. Either you would shuffle and wake Mat or vice versa. Then it got to the point you couldn’t be bothered to try to go back to sleep. Instead, you pulled up Instagram to scroll through whilst Mat slept. You knew Mat liked his sleep, and he had a later morning skate at 10 AM if you remember correctly. 

“Mat, it’s 8:30,” You mumbled when you noticed the time. Both of you needed to shower before leaving. And Mat had offered to drop you back at your hotel on his way to practice. 

The two of you fell into a routine of getting ready for the day. You showered before changing back into the clothes you wore to Mat’s. Mat jumped in the shower after you. He came out of the bathroom dressed in jeans and one of his many Islanders hoodies. Something that made him look so good. 

Mat came over to where you were sitting on his bed, slipping on your Apple Watch. He leant down and pressed a kiss to your lips once more. Probably the final one of the morning. “Want some food before I drop you off?”

“That sounds good.”

You grabbed your bag, and the pair of your made your way to Mat’s car. He had mentioned a bakery near your hotel that was good. It didn’t take too long… in city time that is. The two of you entered the cafe. Browsing all there was to choose from. After looking at all the baked goods, you decided to get juice—something to quell your unsettled stomach, hopefully. Mat stood before you, eyeing up something in the glass case. 

“What do you want?” Mat asked.

“Oh, I’m just getting a juice. Don’t feel like getting any food at the moment.” Mat plucked the juice bottle from your hands and placed it on the counter with his drink. You groaned, going to try to grab the drink back, but he smacked your hand away. “Mat, I can get my drink.”

“Don’t stress about it. I don’t mind.”

You didn’t expect Mat to pay for your stuff. Honestly, you hated having people pay for things for you. Mat was a good person, and you knew that. So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. After he paid for your things, you both returned to his car, and he started to make his way to your hotel. It was quiet until you pulled into your hotel driveway. 

“Thank you for last night,” You stated as you grabbed your bag. “I need it.”

“Me too,” Mat smiles. 

“Good luck for tonight.”

Mat says a quick thank you. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

“Bye.”

You send him one last smile. “Bye.”

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[cowboybarzy]

can we get a barzy smut (ur wearing his cowboy hat, doing it on the kitchen counter)

save a horse, ride a cowboy – mb

wc: 1.9k

cw: SMUT (18+)!!!, dirty talk, cowboys 🤠

note: I knoooooow I’m supposed to be working on other things but at least I’m writing again!!! hopefully more coming soon!!! love you guys & thanks for the support 🫶🏼 reblogs & comments appreciated

“Alright, cowboy. I’m ready. Let’s go.” After over an hour of getting ready you finally stepped out of the bathroom ready for your night out. Mat and your friends were going out tonight to a bull riding event that came to New York only once a year. Your recent obsession with cowboys had you giddy for the night all day long. You had broken in your new cowboy boots for weeks specially for tonight. Your boyfriend had the same idea with his cowboy hat. Which looked absolutely sexy on top of his mess of hair. You’d been fantasizing for a while about riding him with his hat on. But that would wait for after the show.

You found Mat sitting on the couch on his phone with his black cowboy hat on his head. “Finally,” he said, putting his phone away, looking up at you. You could see his breath hitch as his eyes dragged over your body, slowly, up and down, then up again to meet your eyes. They narrowed slightly as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth.

You grinned and spun around in a circle, giving him the full view of the outfit. The white oversized linen blouse that was held together in the front by only two strings, with a red lace bra underneath, the tight black miniskirt with an oversized western belt and the star of the show, your cherry red cowboy boots. “Good?”

“Fuck,” was all he muttered, before lifting his hand to rake his hand through his hair, which knocked the cowboy hat of his head he forgot he was wearing. He was frozen in place so you took to few steps it took to get to him, leaning over a little too closely to give a little peak and picked the hat up, setting it on your intentional wavy mess of hair.

“Now I’m ready.” You stroked his cheek and winked at him before walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Mat immediately jumped up and followed you to the kitchen where he came up to you from behind to pull you into his body by your hips. His lips latched onto your neck, pressing soft wet kisses along it while his big hand slipped underneath your open blouse over your stomach keeping you in place against him.

“We gotta go,” you hummed leaning more into his touch. You really did have to go, but the warmth that spread throughout your body was terribly good at letting you forget that fact.

“I don’t care,” Mat mumbled back, still working your neck and jawline while sliding his hands over your body.

“We’re gonna miss the opening show,” you tried again, but there wasn’t much care behind your words either.

“I’d much rather bend you over the counter and fuck you all night long.” A little gasp escaped you at his words. “And you know what they say, you wear the hat you ride the cowboy.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic and let him spin you around and kiss you breathlessly. The hat was knocked of your head when he pressed you into the fridge kissing you so aggressively that you had to grip his own linen blouse you forced him to wear – a black tshirt just wouldn’t do – strong enough you were scared you were going to rip holes into it.

You didn’t kiss for much longer, both of you already worked up enough, before Mat gripped your hips roughly to flip you and bend you over the kitchen island. You landed on your elbows, palms flat on the marble while Mat kicked your legs apart. He groaned slapping your ass that was already peaking out from under your skirt. He shoved the tiny bit of frantic even higher so it bunched around your waist, only to reveal the matching red lace thong. The growl that came out of him could have brought you over the edge alone. Mat’s calloused hands griped your delicate skin then pressed his erection into you.

“This ass drives me crazy, every fucking day.” He slapped your skin again. “And then this skirt, god.”

Your moan was interrupted by a chuckle. “I’m aware. We never make it out the door without you fucking me against the closest surface any time I wear it.”

One of his hands got ahold of your waves and pulled your upper body up to him. With a touch voice he spoke into your ear sending shiver down your spine, “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you on the counter? Making us late yet again? We’re starting to gain a reputation.”

His grip on your hair was rough but the pleasure trumped the pain. “Yes,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Good girl.” And with that she shoved you back down, pressing you flat against the cold counter. He works his pants, freeing his hard cock desperate to slide right into you. And he doesn’t waste any time pushing your pantries to the side, lining up and running the tip over your folds. You both gasp at contact. “This pussy if soaked for me. You like the hat that much, eh?”

You wiggled your ass in response, widening your stance and pushing back into him to urge him on. He slipped himself through your folds again before slamming into you to the hilt. “Oh god,” you moaned, your finger digging into the marble.

Mat gave you a few more seconds to adjust before gripping your hips and thrusting back into you, hard. “So fucking right.” He switched between hard and fast thrusts then slower and more precise ones, grinding into you making sure to hit every angle. His hands were on you. Your back, pushing you down. Your hair, giving him something to hold onto while slamming into you repeatedly.

You were a whimpering moaning mess underneath him. “That what you wanted? To be fucked by a cowboy?” His words were choppy and breathless as he slammed into you then rolled his hips sliding impossibly deeper.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed. That got your ass slapped and your hair pulled hard giving you enough momentum to force yourself up onto your hands. Mat’s lips connected with your shoulder, biting down enough to leave marks before soothing the burn with soft kisses.

“You are delicious,” he murmured and suddenly the moment turned soft. Your arm wrapped around his neck pulling him into you for a kiss. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and you both moaned when Mat started slowing moving his hips again.

But then he separated, only enough to spin you around and lift you up onto the counter, capturing your lips immediately after. You kissed, not caring about smearing your red lipstick. He was addicting and even though you absolutely hated being late to events, for this you’d give up everything. But when your body started to scream for his cock filling you again, you slipped your hand between your bodies wrapping your hand around the root of his hard length that juts out above the waistband of his underwear. Around every hot, hard inch covered in your juices. Your finger glides over the tip, smearing the drops of cum beading there.

Finally, you slid closer to the edge of the counter and Mat filled you easily, breaking the kiss to let his head fall back with a groan. Your legs shook in their place around his waist. You felt every inch, every ridge, every vain as he slowly moved inside of you. The please was building and building, turning your brain into mush losing control over your body. But Mat got you, pinning you to him, savoring every moan and sigh.

“Maty. Maty.” You buried your face in the crock of his neck and let him work you, pumping into you slow but deep.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered, his lips tracing your damp skin. “So good.”

His jaw flexed as he started to pick up his pace again, both of you already close to finding your release. So you lied back on the counter, let your legs fall open, and started to play with yourself while Mat took you in. That expression of passion and love on his face in full blinding force. But then you bit your lip and pinched your clit as his expression turned downright wicked. He pulled out and then slammed in hard. Again. And again. Steady, even, powerful strokes that shook your entire body.

Mat fucked you senseless on the top of the kitchen counter. The cowboy hat, which had gotten you so worked up all afternoon since he refused to wait until tonight to wear it, scattered on the floor. He looked like some sort of avenging god working you into a frenzy. Flushed cheeks, disheveled hair flopped over his forehead, veins bulging on his forearms while his abs flexed with every thrust. You could come just from savoring the view you got by lying with spread legs beneath his hard, heavy body. His hands held you open wide, and his eyes stay locked on yours.

You finally fell apart underneath his touch. Your body tremored, wave after wave as your orgasm dragged on for an eternity. Mat draped himself on top of you, pressing him lips to yours, swallowing every moan you gave him.

You held him close, hugging him to you even closer. Your shudders subsided and you were finally able to focus on him, noticing his lips switch – a tell he was also close. “Come on, cowboy. Come in me.”

Your voice was hoarse against his ear. You reveled in the fact that he shivered in response before his thrust got more and more sloppy, before he finally erupted. Mat groaned loudly, pushing deeper into you, spilling every drop of him cum inside of you. You felt everything. Every pulse. Every kiss. Every touch. You could even feel his heartbeat on your chest and his harsh breath against your neck.

You spent a couple of minutes catching your breath, stroking his hair, waiting for that orgasm cloud over your brain to pass. When you finally did muster up the courage to look over to the oven clock, you pushed Mat away from you. “Fuck! We’re really gonna be late now.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mat’s hand caught your wrist, spinning you back towards him. “Let’s clean up.”

He grabbed a paper towel, wetting it in the sink, before dropping to his knees. His green eyes were still oozing sex as he slowly wiped his cum from your thigh. “Hurry,” you whined. “I wanna see the cowboys.”

He smirked before reaching back to grab his hat off the floor flopping it on his head. “You’ve got a perfectly good cowboy sitting right here. On his knees ready to worship you, might I add.”

As much as you loved the feel of your pussy clenching at the thought, you had plenty of time to do that later. Mat worshipping you could wait. The cowboys couldn’t. And that’s what you told him, before pulling him off the floor, doing the cleaning up yourself to actually get the job done. After a quick trip to the bathroom for some perfume renewal, you finally dragged your cowboy out the door.