#calgary flames imagine

[swissboyhisch]

All-Star Love

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuck x Lemiuex!Reader

Summary: The NHL All Star weekend is always fun. But bring in a romance... Then that's when it becomes interesting.

Word Count: 1742

Warnings: None I think. Please tell me if I'm wrong.

A/N: This comes from a fanific I've written myself. I adjusted it for this but I loved this idea/scene.

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All-Star weekend 2020. This year it was being held in St. Louis. You had arrived on the Pittsburgh plane with Sidney Crosby, Kris Letang and Tristan Jarry since you were currently working with the team. Despite being Lemiuex’s child, you had earned yourself a position as an assistant coach at such a young age. You grew up playing the game. Now you were also the captain of the Canadian Women’s team. 

The last few years, you had attended the games alongside Sidney, who was an older brother after he lived with you and your family after he was drafted in 2005. It was a staple weekend in the season schedule. You had the chance to see all the friends and players you were close with and get to have some fun. Often you could even find yourself doing media stuff. 

This year the NHL had introduced the Elite Women’s 3 on 3. You were the youngest on the Canadian team by 5 years. They also have allowed the women on the teams to compete in the skills competitions. You had been placed into the Shooting Stars event. This meant that you were competing against your boyfriend, Matt, and his brother, Brady. Others in the skills competition include Mitch Marner, Patrick Kane, Tyler Seguin, David Perron, Hillary Knight, Danid Pastrnak and Ryan O’Reilly. 

Right now you were dressed in a pair of jeans and your team jersey. Standing in line waiting to be called to the stage where you’d be shooting from. With Mitch, Matt and Brady in front of you, the four of you were chatting and laughing. Each of you were excited to shoot off the platform. 

“Now your Gatorade Shooting Stars… from your St. Louis Blues, number 57, David Perron!”

The arena came to life, all cheering on one of the home team players. Perron, with his son in his arms, made his way up the stairs from ice levels. Handing out beanies and high fiving the fans as he went up to the platform.

“From the Toronto Maple Leafs, number 16, Mitch Marner.” 

Mitch followed Perron up the steps. Handing out hats as he went. Matt stepped forward to the bottom of the stars, looking up at all the fans. He had a hand on your lower back. Brady had let your stand next to your boyfriend whilst you three waited.

“From the Calgary Flames, number 19, Matthew Tkachuk.” Matt follows Mitch up. “From the Ottawa Senators, number 7, Brady Tkachuk.”

“The Canadian Women’s All Star, number 11, (Y/N) Lemieux.”

As you walked up the many stairs, you handed out rolled up t-shirts to fans. It was weird to have this many cameras in your face though. If you were honest, the walk up to the platform looked a lot shorter from the bottom. Especially the amount of stairs you had to climb. You reached the platform and waited for the rest of the players to join herself,Matt, Brady, Mitch and Perron. When everyone had gotten there, it went straight into the competition. First to shoot was Perron. He scored a total of 14 points. Mitch was next on the platform. He scored an awesome 22 points.

“Our next shooter, Matthew Tkachuk,” Nick started. “Your brother Brady is following you so we thought, hey, why not get one more Tkachuk up here. Why not bring up your Dad. Give it up St. Louis, for all-star Kieth Tkachuk!”

Yourself and Brady grin, tapping your sticks as you watched Keith join Matt on the platform, an arm around his shoulder with a wide smile on his face. Nick motioned for Brady to join them as well. You decided to give him a light shove as a joke.

“You should be up here as well,” Brady commented as he joined his brother and father.

You laughed at Brady’s comment. Sending a wink to Matt as well who had the biggest smile on his face.

Keith turned to face you, giving you a joking look, “I think we’re missing someone up here.”

“I ain’t no Tkachuck,” You reply. “Enjoy the moment, big guy.”

Matt stepped forward from where he was standing, holding his hand out for you. “Well, maybe we should change that, hey?”

“What?”

Keith, Brady and Nick stepped back from the platform and Matt grabbed your hand, pulling you to the centre of the platform they were standing on. Your hands flew to your mouth as you watched Matt slowly kneel to one knee and open a ring box. In the box sat the most perfect engagement ring you had ever seen.

“No way,” you breathed, looking at Matt who had the biggest smile on his face.

“You’ve been my best friend since we met all those years ago right here in this very arena. When little (Y/N) bumped into me as she ran to get away from her dad. You’ve been considered part of this family since then but I think I need to make it official, make sure you don’t stand out too much with that last name. Will you do me the greatest honour of changing your last name from Lemieux to Tkachuk?”

You nodded, too shocked to answer in words. The arena roared to life when Matt stood up and kissed you. He pulled the ring out of the box as you dropped your gloves. You cried as Matt slid the ring on your finger. Once he had sealed the deal, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders excitedly.

The players around them and on the bench, as well as the whole arena, were screaming and cheering. Mitch and Brady made sure they were heard over everyone else. 

“I can’t believe you,” You laughed as you pulled away from Matt. Brady was the first to hug you congratulations. He had the biggest grin as well. The smile gave him away. “You knew!”

“Of course I did,” Brady chuckles, “I helped choose the ring.”

Brady was interrupted when Keith pulled you into a hug. “I think you should just keep your last name, it’s more recognisable.”

“Tkachuk is better, that's for sure.”

Nick soon joined the happy group. You were tucked into Matt’s side like usual. Nick held his hand out to Matt who shook it happily before handing Matt a new jersey. It was a grey All-Star Canadian jersey like you were wearing. You grabbed it from Matt, checking the back which now had Tkachuk on it.

“Oh my god,” You grinned, pulling off your current jersey for the new one.

“Hey, have a look at the photo up on the board you guys.” There was a photo of Keith kneeling by the bench in front of a young Brady, Matt and yourself. You had attended the weekend with her father and hung out with the boys. One of the rare times you got to see the Tkachuk brothers as a kid. “How exciting is it to be on this platform being here, history in the making, with your sons and soon to be in-law?”

“I’m so proud of these guys,” Keith stated, smiling at you three. “They’ve earned being here. Matt and Brady grew up here, watched me play here. I mean, Matt met (Y/N) just outside the home change rooms in this arena.” At that, there was a picture of Matt, Brady and Taryn, the youngest Tkachuk, standing with Keith now on the screen.  “I love these guys. I know they love the Blues deep down.”

“Oh, we’re excited to have you here. 18000 people wanna know, how many pucks can Tkachuk chuck, chuck? So why don’t you have a go at this.” Keith took Matt’s stick from him as the three young adults stepped back. “Come on, Keith Tkachuk everybody!”

Keith shot the puck, nearly getting it in the 10 pointer net. “Not a lot of love for that arch there Tkachuk,” You chirped as he turned to give Matt his stick back.

He hugged the three of you before Matt stepped up to the platform. But only after a kiss from you. Keith’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as they watched Matt drop his gloves.

“How characteristic…” You giggles, stopping when he pulls off his Calgary jersey to reveal an old St. Louis Cardinals jersey.

“Who’d he fight?” Keith laughed. “He won’t touch you.”

“He’ll fight me,” Brady mumbled from beside you.

The three of you chuckled as you watched Matt take his first shot. As he took his next few shots, you listened to Brady and Keith chirp your boyfriend, well now Fiance. Matt ended up with 24, getting a 10 on his last one.

“Look at you go,” You smiled, pecking Matt when he switched spots with Brady. 

Brady stepped up to the plate. Matt pulled from under his dad’s arm into his. Having you stand in front of him with his arms around you. When Brady took his first shot, Matt laughed at the fact his brother didn’t do anything special as a tribute to their hometown. 

“Next up we have the last of the three musketeers.”

You stepped onto the platform, with a good luck kiss from Matthew. You had 7 shots to hit the targets laid out on the ice below. With the first shot you hit a 5. After your 6 other shots, you came to a total of 24 as well. Tie with Matthew. After everyone else had taken their shot, it was only Matthew and yourself that had the highest score. No-one had outshot you two. 

“Since you both scored an amazing 24 points, we go to a sudden death shootout. One shot. Highest score wins.”

Matt shot first, missing the arch but a hair. You shot next. The puck went flying over the arch. Actually hitting Jarry who was chilling at the end of the end with some of the other goalies. 

“Injure your goalie, why don’t ya?” Matt chirps as he steps up once again. 

Round two. Matt shoots and hits the 5 points. Only way for you to beat that was to score the same or hit the arch for 10 points. You took a moment before finally shooting the puck. It went straight into the arch. You grin, cheering as you turn to where Matt was standing.

“Better luck next time Tkachuk!”

He smiled, coming up to congratulate you. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Next time, you’ll be a Tkachuk as well.”

TAG LIST:

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

#matthew tkachuk imagine #florida panther imagine #calgary flames imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #swissboyhisch imagine #swissboyhisch #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk blurb #matthew tkachuk rpf #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #Florida panthers imagine #florida panthers imagines #florida panthers x reader #florida panthers fanfiction #florida panthers fic #florida panthers blurb #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl rpf #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey rpf #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic

[ilyasorokinn]

new beginnings , matthew tkachuk

note, this is so sad. i don't even know what to say. i don't know if there is anything to say. hope you enjoy. pair, matthew tkachuk x reader summary, matthew tkachuk gets traded to the florida panthers. warnings, children word count, 1183 words

(gif not mine)

"Where's Florida?" Olivia asked.

You had just told Olivia and Jamie you were moving from Calgary to Florida. Max was still too young to understand what was happening, so he was in his crib taking a nap.

You pulled out your phone and showed both of them on a map where you'd be moving, "That's so far." Olivia looked like she was gonna cry. Matt frowned, pulling her into his lap.

"I know, but think, we'll get to go to Disney World all the time." Of course, you and Matt were sad to leave the place you had called home since you were 18, but you knew it was time to go.

That seemed to brighten her mood a little, "But what about Charlie?" Although there was a pretty big age gap between Charlie Coleman and Olivia, they were still best friends.

"I'm sorry, Livey." Matt offered her a sad smile. She pushed herself off his lap and ran into her room, closing the door carefully. You looked over at Matt, a worried look on your face.

He looked just as nervous, "What about you, Jam? What do you think?"

"Disney?" He asked.

"Yeah, we'll get to go to Disney World a lot." Matt nodded.

"Yay!" He clapped his hands. Clearly, he was more excited than his sister.

"All right, I guess we have our answer." You smiled optimistically.

-

Olivia had been in her room for almost 3 hours, which was a record. You let her be alone because it was a lot of change to wrap your head around at 5 years old.

"All right, I'm gonna check on her," Matt announced, standing up from the kitchen table.

"You sure?" You asked.

"Yeah, I can do it." He nodded, making his way up to her room. He knocked on her door before pushing the door open, "Livey?"

"I don't want to go." She sniffled, letting him know that she had started crying.

His heart broke as he laid down in her small bed next to her. He picked her up and held her in his arms, "I know you don't. I don't want to either, but aren't you excited to go somewhere new? You're gonna make so many new friends."

"But Charlie." She pouted.

"How about this? Every time I have to come back here for work, you can come, too and you can see her."

"And can we come back during breaks?"

"We'll see." Matt smiled.

She was warming up to the idea, "Okay."

"Deal?"

"Deal." She nodded.

"I love you." He squeezed her a little tighter and kissed the top of her head.

"Love you, too, daddy."

-

The day after the trade was announced, you, Matt, and all three kids flew down to Florida. He took pictures with staff, held a press conference, and lastly, the team gifted all three children with new merch for your kids.

You tried to ignore the cameramen in the room and focused all your attention on Jamie and Olivia in front of you, "Look at how cool it is." You showed them the new jersey.

"Cool." Jamie nodded, his eyes wide as he took in every detail of the jersey. He raised his arms and you slipped the jersey on him.

Olivia observed it a little while longer, but raised her arms and let Matt slip the jersey on her. You held Max in your arms, a little Panthers jersey of his own, as you posed for the cameras all around you.

When you got back to your home you were renting till you officially moved in, Keith and Chantel were there. You had a surprise in store for the kids, so they were going to watch them while you got their surprise.

"All right, we'll be back soon. Be good for grandma and grandpa." You kissed Olivia's head as you headed towards the car.

"Bye-bye." Jamie and Olivia waved.

"Bye." You both waved.

-

A few hours later, you were pulling back into the driveway, your special surprise asleep in the backseat. You carefully picked up the surprise from the backseat while Matt gathered everything else you had picked up.

You unlocked the door, "We're home." You sang.

Jamie and Olivia ran to greet you and gasped when they saw the surprise in your arms, "A puppy?"

"Surprise." You smiled, bending down and letting them pet him and introduce themselves. The dog's tail hadn't stopped wagging since the moment they started petting him.

"Is he ours?"

"He's all ours." You nodded.

"What's his name?"

"What do you want to name him?"

Jamie and Olivia looked at each other, and whispered back and forward before turning back to you, "Woody." Jamie stated.

"Woody?" They both nodded.

"All right, well welcome to the family, Woody."

-

True to his word, when Matt played the Flames, he came back to Calgary with you and Olivia. Your parents flew into Florida to watch Jamie and Max.

You had a couple new jackets gifted to you from the Panther's partners, but decided to switch it up and wear an old Flames jacket in support.

When you walked out of the bathroom wearing the jacket, Matt let out a laugh, "What? Is there something wrong with my jacket, Matthew?"

"Nope, not at all." He shook his head, a smile on his face as he pulled you into a brief hug and pressed a kiss to your head.

Before meeting up with the Coleman clan, you waited in front of the glass for Matt. The Flames were first to come out, and the first person who spotted you by the glass was Elias Lindholm, and he skated up to you with the brightest smile on his face.

A few more players came up to greet you. The only people who knew of you coming to the game were the Coleman's, so seeing everyone else was a surprise.

Matt eventually came out and spotted you easily. He skated over and tossed a puck over. It was part of your tradition. Every game the kids came to, he made sure to get each of them pucks.

This game was no different.

After your glass traditions, you found your seats, and Charlie and Olivia reunited, giving each other big hugs. You hugged Jordan, "Oh, it's so good to see you. FaceTime does no justice."

"Oh, I've missed you too. So glad we were able to come. You'll have to come down to Florida sometime."

"Off-season, you'll be seeing us a lot." She laughed, "And we'll have to do a group Disney trip."

"For sure." You nodded.

"And nice jacket." She ran her finger over the jacket.

"Thank you, thank you. Had to represent." You laughed.

After the game, you met up with Matt by the guest locker room, before making the all-too-familiar trekk towards the home locker room.

"Just the people we were waiting for. The Tkachuk's." You were pulled into a million different hugs as each player and partner pulled you all into hugs.

"Gotta say, haven't missed ay of you." Matt joked, a smile on his face.

"Feelings mutual, chuck." You all laughed.

-

my taglist: @mitch-slap @joelsfarabees @tysonjost-taylorsversion @rosesvioletshardy @laurenairay @kidlnthedark @bowen-power @nhlrbs @lam-ila @puckinrightschicagoo @stars-canucks @iwantahockeyhimbo @2manytabsopen @lady-laura-speaks @owenpowersglasses @calermakar08 @hamilton160 @pierrelucduboiis @thescooby-gang @huggybearmylove43 @sammysworldddd @mista-svech @paintlavillered @samanthasgone @hockeyboysarehot @nicoleloveshockey @thedukes-56-5 @tkachukswife @hockeyunits @dumbxblond3 @kaydenissleepy @yagetintoit @seventieswhore @MichelleKirby30 @jamieeboulos @Coffeeandteaandflowers @bibella8swan @cuttergauth

[ taglist ]

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk blurbs #matthew tkachuk #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #hockey #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames #florida panthers imagine #florida panthers #taylor writes #taylor writes: hockey #taylor's blurbs #matthew the family man #matthew the family man series #dad!matthew

[tkachuckycheese]

on the line

summary: when the flames season comes to an end, you’re confronted with the emotions of your break-up with matthew, in more ways than one. 

word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda angsty, mentions of kissing 

note: my first fic on hockeyblr, also my first one in years since my 1d fanfic days (lol)!! basically, this is a combo of my emotions from the flames elimination from the playoffs last night AND the potential of matthew having played his last game as a flame........... but let’s not talk more about it. there is maybe a more smutty addition to this but we shall have to seeeee..... let me know your thoughts friends, i would love to hear them!

~

You’re clutching the red jersey so tightly you're certain the seams are coming apart. You might not even be breathing. You sucked in a breath when the overtime goal was scored, and you haven’t been able to let it out quite yet. 

You pace up and down your living room, back and forth, from the couch to the kitchen. You wish you’d gone to the game with the girls, because at least you’d have someone to calm you down. Many of them had asked you to, but you were worried you’d run into him. If you were there now, you would be able to know if he was okay. You could comfort him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and everything was going to be okay. 

On your TV, they show the team giving the fans one last final salute before heading off the ice. He’s the first one down the tunnel, moving so fast and with his head tipped down that the cameras can’t catch him. But you don’t need to see his face to know what it looks like. He left everything on the ice tonight, and this is going to be a big deal for him. This is soul crushing for him. He’s going to be a fucking mess. Despite what happened between the two of you, your heart breaks for him. 

Is this my fault? 

You hate yourself for even contemplating that question. He made you break up with him. He is responsible for his own failures, and for your broken heart. Maybe karma decided to take this moment to unleash all the hurt and pain you wished on him when you broke up. But if he hadn’t decided your relationship was an “unnecessary distraction”, then there would be no reason for karma to kick his ass. Despite the fact that he had reached out many times since the break-up, asking to talk and saying he missed you, you hadn’t responded. Your emotional capacity had reached its limit, and you were still putting the pieces of yourself that he had broken back together.

You sigh and head into the kitchen, busying yourself with making dinner. Your diet had been shit since the breakup and now that you were trying to get through this instead of wallowing in the pain, you were trying to make a conscious effort. 

A couple hours later, you were on the couch, still trying to convince yourself to change the channel, but you just couldn’t. It was like a train wreck. The highlight reel had played through multiple times already, with the panel discussing each and every hit and miss from the playoff series. The general consensus seemed to be that he, in particular, beared a lot of the responsibility for the team’s loss and playoff elimination. You roll your eyes at the panelists’ opinions of him, while simultaneously wishing you could smack him and hug him at the same time. But you’ll get to do neither because you’re not in his life anymore. 

They’d switched to discussing a different series, and you were about to rewind and watch the highlights again to indulge your heart’s masochistic tendencies when the doorbell rings. Your heart skips and you immediately mute the television. You try to listen to the front door for who it could be, especially since it’s late and you’re not expecting anyone. 

It rings again. 

You stand up and walk gingerly towards the front hall. Your floorboards creak and you flinch–as if the serial killer on the other side of the door can hear it and has started sharpening his machete. 

“Y/N, it’s me.” 

You gasp. Because it can’t be. But when you go on your tiptoes and look through the peephole, there he is. Well, there’s the top of his curly head of hair. He tips his head up for a second and you glimpse those deep grey eyes and full mouth. 

Holy shit. 

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. There’s nothing about this that’s good, you remind your pounding heart as you open the door. He’s slouched over, but as soon as his eyes land on mine, he pulls himself up to almost his full height. Maybe it’s the pain of defeat makes it impossible to get that slump out of his broad shoulders entirely, and really, you can’t fault him for that. 

You fight to hold his gaze. It’s hard because it’s so angry–and desperate. You’ve never seen him look like this, not in the last seven years you’ve known him, not when you broke up, not ever. And because you’re still so completely in love with him, it hurts to look at him. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Matthew, what are you doing here?” you ask without letting him inside. “Don’t you have post-game stuff you need to do?” 

“It’s all done. The series is done. The season is done,” he replies, flicking his eyes to the ground and back up to yours. “Can I please come in?” 

“Why?”

“Because.” 

He’s wearing a pair of training paints and a Flames hoodie. It’s pulled tight across his wide chest. His hair is still wet from the shower. The whole team probably didn’t bother with suits after the game. They probably just wanted to get the fuck out of there. And he came straight to you. 

“Because why?” You countered harshly. 

“Let me in, Y/N.” 

It’s not a question. He doesn’t really ask anyone for anything. He tells them. Matthew’’s always got to be in charge and no one ever denies that. 

You tighten your grip on the door and move to shut it in his face, but he steps right into it. His palm makes a loud smacking sound against the wood, and then he’s pushing. Hard. You lose your grip on the door and it flings open. He steps over the threshold and right up into you. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Matthew grabs your face roughly in his big hands and forces his mouth over yours. You pound his shoulder with your fist and wedge your hand in between you to try to pry you apart, but you can’t break his hold on you. It’s like a sparrow tangling with an eagle.

His tongue sweeps right into your mouth and you think briefly about biting down on it, but it feels so damn good. You grab the fabric of his hoodie and ball it up in your hand. He starts walking backward, pushing you back into the living room. The side of the archway clips your shoulder, but he keeps pushing. When your legs hit the back of the sofa and you lose your balance, you shove him harder and this time Matthew takes a step away. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream. 

“I’m showing you I still care the only way left to show you,” Matthew says, his voice strained and loud. “I’ve tried calling, texting, I’ve used social fucking media and so now here I am. Physically showing you.” 

You storm past him, back into the hall to the open door. He turns to keep his eyes on you but doesn’t move to follow. He may be stunned and angry, but he’s still not going anywhere. You reach out and wrap your hand around the door again. “I told you, I’m no one’s silly little distraction or fling. You don’t get to come in here like a petulant child and just claim me like a consolation ribbon after you lose at hockey.” 

His body is rigid, his shoulders creeping up to his earlobes the longer you rant, getting more and more tense. But you don’t care. You’re not in his life anymore. 

“Y/N, I think about it every single day, how messed up it all was, how much I fucked up. I don’t like myself since you left. I never should have made you leave like that.” 

You try to take a breath, but it’s ragged. “Matthew, you’re just emotional over the end of your season.” 

“I did everything I could for this fucking team.” His voice is low and deep and shaky with rage. 

“Yeah. You did. So let it go,” you reply tersely. “They lost in spite of you, Matthew, not because of you.” 

He doesn’t answer. He walks towards you, his shoulders slumped in defeat again. This time, he stops a polite distance from you and keeps his hands to himself. 

“I just can’t handle the fucking pressure. I can’t carry this team, and I can’t keep putting this brave face on. I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, and you know it’s nothing he’s ever said to anyone else and nothing that he ever will. 

His dark eyes meet yours. They’re so sad they make your heart ache. He takes a few steps towards the door, and as he does, he chokes out, “I am so sorry.” 

As he steps through the door, you put a hand on his shoulder and flick your wrist, causing the door to fly from your hand and slam shut. “You try to control everything and when you can’t, when something knocks you on your ass unexpectedly, you give up or hide. You’re a coward.” 

His chest tightens under your hand. “I was a coward. I’ve been one this entire time, but I’ve been trying to change. I fucked up, but I’m still trying. But I need you. I need you because you make me want to be better.” 

“You need me?” you repeat. God, you wanted to believe it, you really did. You had read his pleading texts, listened to the voicemails, even seen the Instagram post he’d made of a photo of the two of you, simply captioned “Miss this girl.” You’re just so scared to trust him again. You know he can’t do anything else to get you back. You had both walked out on each other, but neither of you had truly moved on. 

It hits you so hard, you let out a shudder. You either have to believe Matthew or you have to let him go. 

And the only thing that terrifies you more than forgiving him is losing him. 

So you take a ragged breath and you whisper, “Prove it.” 

#matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk one shot #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames writing #calgary flames one shot #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl fic

[thomasschabot]

hello! can i please get a cold cut combo on whole wheat w matthew tkachuk, he cheats and you find out everyone knew except you (family, teammates, wags, close friends)

so excited to get a taste of all of the sandwiches!

you got it sweet pea 😌 matty t isn’t actually in this but it’s fine because it’s about the agnst ya know?

welcome to c's deli :))

It’s a slap in the face when you find out. 

You’ve been in St. Louis for the entire offseason, landing not even two days after Matthew’s exit interview, but despite that you’ve barely seen your boyfriend’s family. It’s been a busy few months, with Matt being his extravagant self and flying you and your girlfriends somewhere tropical every few weeks for a weekend and taking frequent golfing road-trips with his father and brother. Truth be told you haven’t spent much time with Matthew, but after the troubling season he had you understand steam needed to be blown off and relaxation was at the forefront of his mind. 

After knocking twice on Emma and Brady’s door, knuckles rapping on the frosted glass panel set into dark mahogany, you twist the handle and step inside. “Hello!” you sing-song, slipping off your sandals and wandering farther into the house. 

“Babe!” the blonde squeals, wrapping her arms snugly around your midriff. “It feels like forever since I last saw you.”

In reality it’s only been a week, and during the season you go months without each other’s company, but during the summer the pair of you typically spend almost every day together. “I know,” you sigh, “But you’ve probably seen Brady even less! I can’t believe they went on another golf trip.” Your eyes roll for good measure to show that the absence of Tkachuk men in the city is getting to you a little bit. 

Emma’s head cocks to the right slightly, her brow arches, and a puzzled look crosses her features. “What do you mean? Brades’s is upstairs.”

Immediately after the words leave her mouth she goes pale but doesn’t try to correct herself. Emma’s aware of her grave mistake and flinches slightly when your face hardens. 

“How many golf trips have there actually been?” 

The sound of blood rushing through your body is all you hear, and taking her silence as an omission of guilt, you bound up the stairs two at a time and slam open the door of the gaming room you knew Brady would be in. You’re hysterical as you scream at him, asking a million questions faster than the speed of light, but the most common one is why didn’t you tell me?

Brady’s quiet, lets you scream until your lungs give out, and is smart enough to not try and console you. Despite your relatively short time on Earth you aren’t stupid — you know Matthew is a young, attractive professional athlete with a big ego and that there was always a possibility of infidelity. You just thought the people you cared about would be kind enough to tell you if it happened. 

All your questions are answered in time, including who knew (everyone) and how long (almost two years), and once the interrogation is over your bones feel heavy. You’re so angry, so full of rage it would be all-consuming if it wasn’t for the exhaustion you also feel. A line was crossed by everyone you thought loved you and there’s no doubt you’ll have to start over somewhere new. The fact that Matthew cheated and everyone helped cover it up is too much to bear, and you’re overcome immediately with the notion to get the hell out. Of Brady’s house, of St. Louis, of any place that holds memories of laughs shared with Matthew. 

Disgust is the only emotion you feel, and when you turn around to look at the couple you thought would be the maid of honour and best man at your wedding no tears fall. Instead, a scoff comes from deep within your throat before you look Emma in the eyes. 

“I wouldn’t have thought twice about telling you if it was Brady was fucking someone else and I found out about it.” Her eyes slip down to the floor, and you try desperately to twist the knife as far as you can. “Guess when it eventually happens I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

You’re gone before a response could fall upon your deaf ears, in the car and slamming it into reverse without regard to any possible oncoming traffic. You’re on the warpath, rightfully so, and all you want to do is confront Matthew. It’s a race against the clock as you’re sure Brady called him as you as you were out the door, but there’s a small part of you that believes if you drive fast enough he won’t be able to escape. 

The driveway and house are empty when you arrive, the farthest thing from a shock, but you’re so pissed off you kick your tire. Soles bounce harmlessly off the rubber, and you decide you won’t give Matthew the satisfaction of trying to make the situation better. You won’t allow him to placate you, draw you back in with infectious giggles and empty promises. No, the best thing you can do is disappear without a trace and force him to live with the fact he lost the only thing in his life that can’t be replaced. 

That’s exactly what you do, and only as you drive in the opposite direction of where home once was do you allow a tear to slip. 

place an order here x

#matthew tkachuk blurb #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #calgary flames blurb #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #hockey fic #c's deli! #cwrites

[izzylovesyou2022]

Comment, Reblog this, or Message me with your thoughts on me writing a NHL fanfic based around "first girl in the NHL"

#nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfics #hockey #nhl #female oc #female characters #female hockey player #hockey imagines #hockey thoughts #anaheim ducks imagines #arizonia coyotes imagines #boston bruins imagine #buffalo sabres imagine #calgary flames imagine #carolina hurricanes imagine #chicago blackhawks imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #columbus blue jackets imagine #dallas stars imagine #detroit red wings imagine #edmonton oilers imagine #florida panthers imagine #los angels kings imagine #minnesota wild imagine #montreal canadiens imagine #nashville predators imagine #new jersey devils imagine #new york islanders fanficiton #new york rangers imagine

[so-writing]

just... let me lay here for a while with ratty matty??

(sad/angst blurb weekend)

You don’t need to ask him to know that he’s broken. You don’t need to do a single fucking thing to know that he’s hurting. Matt’s hurting so bad but he’s so damn stubborn that even if you tried to offer him some kind of help, you knew he would refuse it. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Matt. It’s me, talk to me.”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” 

He flings himself off of your course and disappears into your spare bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. You let him go. He’s needs to work through whatever the fuck is going on.

Hours pass and you fall asleep on the couch with Bar Rescue on in the background. When you wake up, you’re covered in a heavy duvet and a pillow has been placed beneath your head. 

You know instantly that Matthew is behind it. As frustrated as he might be, he lets his walls down with you. Always. 

The smell of bacon frying pulls you into the kitchen but you aren’t surprised to see Matt in front of the stove. 

“We’ll talk about it when you want to.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles and continues cooking. 

Hours later, the two of you are sitting on the couch watching a movie when Matt wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. 

“You ready to tell me what happened?”

“Not yet. Just let me lay here for a while. Soon though? I promise.”

“Tell me when you’re ready. You know i’ll always be here.” 

-

should I do more of these blurb weekends?

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #calgary flames imagine

[fredweasleysrightear]

The Night We Met

Noah Hanifin x F!Reader

Based on the song The Night We Met by Lord Huron

TW: Fluff. Mentions of Throwing up. 

Word Count: 2K

    You could feel your chest tightening as the seconds ticked by. You didn’t know if you could do this, there were so many people out there, waiting on you…waiting to watch you. You probably shouldn’t have thought about that, it just made you freak out more as you sat there. Suddenly the room felt small, almost like it was shrinking. An attempt was made as you tried to calm yourself down, closing your eyes and leaning back in your chair a bit, as you let out a deep breath you could feel the panic begin to rise again. 

    I can't do this, you thought to yourself. What if you trip? Will people laugh? What if I go to walk out and he isn’t there? Oh god, you could feel the panic attack coming on. Your head began to pound and suddenly you felt like you were going to puke. Taking a quick, deep breath, you got out of your seat and ran to the closest bathroom, and proceeded to throw up. Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich this morning after all…

    As you continued throwing up into the toilet you felt somebody move the hair from your face, holding it in a ponytail as you stayed hunched over the toilet. Your friends were going to kill you if you ruined this dress. After a few seconds, you didn’t feel any better, leaning away from the bowl and whipping your mouth with a piece of toilet paper, you open your eyes coming face to face with your friend. They smiled softly at you as you gave them a weak smile.

    “Do you want me to go get him?” They say, resting their hand on your cheek. It had been obvious that you were nervous from the time you woke up til now, and your friends only knew of one person who could help. It was the one person who wasn’t allowed to see you until you were walking down the aisle, your soon-to-be husband. 

    You weakly nod as your rest your body against the side of the bathtub, you feel dizzy still. We’re you really that nervous? you thought to yourself as you watch your friend quickly get up and walk out of the hotel room to go find your fiancé, who just so happened to be a few doors down in another hotel room. You decided to lean your head back, resting it uncomfortably against the edge of the tub, your neck would probably never forgive you after this. Closing your eyes, you began to start to a tiny bit better. Suddenly you hear the hotel room door open and shut, you sit up a little bit attempting to position yourself in a more comfortable way before quickly failing and slumping back against the tub. 

. 

    You hear light footsteps walking towards the bathroom as you open your eyes you see your fiancé standing in the doorway with a sad look on his face, “Awe baby, what happened?”, Noah says, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

    You look up at him with sad eyes, “I don’t feel very good.”

    He lets out a small chuckle before taking a seat across from you on the bathroom floor while grabbing your hand and holding it, “Tell me what's wrong, what happened?”

    “I just started to panic. I wasn’t getting cold feet or anything. It's just- I don’t want to mess up, there’s gonna be so many people and I’m scared I’m going to trip and faceplant in front of everyone.” You say quickly before looking down at your intertwined hand, “I want to do this, I really do but I-I’m just nervous.” 

    Noah looks at you with a small smile on his face as he stands up, reaching down with his other hand to help you up. You accept his hand and pull yourself off the ground, following him into the bedroom and sitting on the bed, “Can I tell you something?” He says, sitting across from you, with his hands still intertwined in yours.

    You nod gently as you continue to look at him, “I was nervous too, I honestly thought I was going to be sick this morning when I got out of bed. I could barely eat but the guys had to practically force me to eat.”, you let out a small laugh at the thought, “What you’re feeling is completely normal. You’re not the only one who thinks they going to trip walking down the aisle, I’m a hundred percent sure that every single bride out there has thought about that. But it’s okay if you don’t want to do this, we can put this off a little bit, maybe reschedule to a different day, everyone can be okay so don’t worry about them, just worry about yourself, and I know you’re gonna walk down the aisle by yourself, so I was gonna see if maybe you just wanted to walk down the aisle together? I mean we've already broken the rule of not being able to see each other until then, how much worse could it be?” He says, smiling at the thought of you two walking down the aisle together. 

    You felt the weight lift off of your lungs after he finishes. You were honestly pretty happy he asked you, you were pretty nervous about walking down the aisle alone. None of your family members had shown up or RSVP’d to the wedding after you sent out invitations almost a month ago, but you weren’t concerned about it. Sure you were upset but what could you do?

    He looks down at his watch, noticing the time before quickly standing up from the bed and helping you up, “We’ve gotta go. It's almost time.”

    You let out a small breath, standing up and walking towards where your shoes sat. You slid them on and walked back towards Noah, and grabbed his hand, “Let's do this shall we?” 

-

    The pit in your stomach began to grow again as you reached the doors of the wedding venue that would open to everyone who came, revealing you. You began to shake slightly, why were you so nervous it's not like you’ve never been in front of a crowd before. 

    Noah could sense your nervousness, well that and the fact that you were shaking like a chihuahua. He reached down attaching his hand to yours, running his thumb over your knuckles attempting to calm you as the music began to play. The doors opened revealing the crowd of people who stood as they saw you, some of them whispering about Noah being with you instead of being on the altar waiting for you. You took a deep breath as you began to walk, arm linked with Noah.

    You blacked out from the time you stepped out of the doors to the time you got to the altar, you don't remember anything after you started to walk, but the next thing you know you are exchanging vows in front of over 100 people. This was nerve-racking and was probably your worst nightmare.

    “I remember the first night we met. You were standing on the other side of the bar, leaning against the bar table talking to your friends, well more like arguing with them.” Noah says, letting out a laugh as the crowd lets out a small laugh as well, “You had just broken up with your ex because he didn’t want you to go to college to continue to study to get your masters, which you ended up getting this year. I was staring at you for a good four minutes before you finally noticed me, you were probably getting creeped out and were attempting to build the courage to come over and punch me but I acted first and approached you. I don’t even remember what I approached you for, I think it may have been the guys pushing me to talk to you, and I’m glad they did because it led me to this moment. Me standing in front of all of our family and friends, getting ready to spend the rest of our lives together, to start a family. There are times when I’ve been an asshole, where you could’ve simply just broken up with me, but that's not you. You weren’t the type of person to run away when we got into fights, you stayed up all night with me the first night we got into a fight over something I started, you said you weren’t going to bed until we worked this out. We didn’t end up going to bed until eight o’clock in the morning that day, but we ended up working it out, a year later on that same day I proposed to you. You have been with me through hell and back and every day I’m so grateful that I’ll be able to wake up next to you and call you my wife.” He looked up at you after finishing his vows, slipping the piece of paper back into his pocket and taking your hands back in his.

    You were shocked, the tears in your eyes were spilling over. You’d never thought he’d remember the night you guys had met, seeing as it was close to 3 years ago, and he could barely remember what he ate for breakfast some days.

    You let go of his hand, quickly wiping your tears before reattaching your hand to his, “God mine isn’t even nearly as good as yours. I completely forgot what I was going to say honestly.” You let out a small huff as Noah lets out a laugh.

    “It’s okay.” He says, “We can just skip over it, and if you do remember you can tell me whenever you remember it.”, Smiling softly at him, you nod your head as the wedding officiant begins to speak again.

45 Minutes later and here you were, about to have your first dance. 

    As the DJ announces for the bride and groom to begin their first dance, you hear a song begin to play, the DJ had started to play The Night We Met by Lord Huron. You wrap your arms around Noah's shoulder, and with his hands resting on your hips, you sway softly to the music that fills your ears. You could get used to this.

-

#noah hanifin #Noah Hanifin x reader #Noah Hanifin imagine #NHL imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #Calgary Flames Imagine

[haddonfieldwhore]

bad idea - matthew tkachuk

flames!matthew tkachuk x draisaitl!fem reader

summary: in a bad mood after losing to calgary, your brother is a dick to you. you decide to get back at him with a little bit of help

warnings: mention of injury/fighting, language, implied smut, crying inside that i wrote anything oilers related

word count: 1.8k battle of alberta 2018

in all your years of watching your older brother leon play hockey, you were sure you had never seen a game as rough as this one. you knew it was to be expected; the game was advertised as the ‘battle of alberta’ for good reason, the edmonton oilers and the calgary flames quite literally going to war on each other from the very second the puck dropped. you weren’t the biggest hockey fan, but you rarely got to see your older brother with his busy schedule, and were looking forward to hanging out with him after the game.

it wasn’t even two minutes into the first period before leon laid a huge hit on calgarys matthew tkachuk, the younger player hitting his head on the ice as he landed and leaving the game for the time being.

while you were cheering for your brothers team to win, as were your friends and family sitting in the crowd next to you, you found yourself hoping that the calgary flame was okay. you would be crucified if you said it out loud, but you found the flames player kind of cute, and always enjoyed watching him play; despite the rivalry that seemed to be brewing between him and your brother. your eyes always ended up on him whenever he was on the ice, and you found it hard to look away. you were pretty sure that tkachuk was only a year older than you, and you found yourself breathing a sigh of relief when he returned to the game, seemingly uninjured.

as the game went on, edmonton had a two nothing lead, but after many more fights, (most of them involving tkachuk in some way) and four goals from calgary, the game was over.

‘this is gonna be a fun drive home,’ you thought as you walked out of the stands to find leon. you had to wait for awhile for the team to change and shower, and you were growing tired waiting around for your brother. your friends and family being bummed about the loss was not helping the time go by faster as you stood around awkwardly while they caught up with eachother.

it was around thirty minutes later that leon finally emerged from the hallway that lead to the visitors dressing room, greeting your group unenthusiastically.

“hey,” you replied, and he merely grumbled in response, barely paying attention to the fact that you were there; and it stung. leon greeted your parents and friends without much more warmth but still you suddenly felt invisible as he talked with them and not you. you hadn’t seen him in months, and he couldn’t even say hello properly? and to make matters worse, your parents had already seen him before the game.

“leon-“

“let’s go,” he mumbled, his jaw clenched as he bumped into your shoulder with his, causing you to stumble slightly.

maybe you were being overly sensitive, but no one seemed to notice how cold he was being; either letting it go because the team lost, or perhaps you were just expecting a warmer greeting from your big brother.

you tried to grab his arm to keep up with him as he walked away, but he pulled it away and shot you a glare.

“i know you’re pissed, but it’s not my fault you guys lost.”

“so it’s my fault?” he countered, and you sighed.

“that’s not what i said-“

“that’s what you’re thinking though, isn’t it?”

“no, leon!” you sighed, trying to remember how he was feeling right now. “if i had known you were gonna be such a sore loser i wouldn’t have come.” he had never been this grumpy after a loss before.

“then maybe you shouldn’t have,” his jaw clenched again, and you could tell from his expression that the conversation was over. you stopped walking while he continued down the hall, your parents catching up to you, oblivious to the argument between you and leon.

“you know what, i’m gonna catch up with you guys tomorrow,” you said, faking a yawn. your family had planned to go for dinner after the game while you were all in town. the oilers had a day off tomorrow, and you hoped by then your brother would be in a better mood.

“are you sure, honey?” your mom asked, and you nodded.

“yeah, i’ll just get a cab back to the hotel. i don’t think leon’s really in a celebrating mood so i’m sure he won’t care. i’ll see you guys in the morning,” you said, before hugging your family and watching them leave the saddledome.

you sighed as you stood in the now nearly empty hallway alone, and before you could do the smart thing and actually take a cab home like you said you would, your felt your legs begin to carry you in the opposite direction.

your feet slowed outside of a certain closed door, fiddling with your hands nervously as you lingered outside the flames dressing room. just as you were deciding that the players had probably already left and began to turn back, the door opened.

after one quick look at your jersey, branded with the oilers logo and leon’s number, matthew tkachuk shook his head with a slight laugh.

“i don’t know how you got back here, but if you’re looking for him you have the wrong locker room,“ he said pointing at your jersey.

“and if i’m looking for you?” you replied, and he looked you up and down again, slower this time as if actually taking in your appearance, not just your wardrobe.

“depends why you’re looking for me. if you’re going to stab me or something for beating your team-“ he joked.

“relax, leon’s my brother; you don’t have a security issue,” you laughed, and he smiled slightly. “and i promise i’m not here to stab you,” you raised your hands in surrender.

“that’s a relief,” he laughed, a more genuine smile on his face this face this time, and you realized that he was even cuter in person. his long curls were messy, still slightly damp from the shower, and he stood quite a bit taller than you. his expression changed as the words ‘brother’ and ‘leon’ clicked in his head, and he crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing under his shirt. “so why are you looking for me?”

“i… uh,” you stuttered, not having thought this far ahead. “i don’t know. i kind of felt bad that my brother hit you so hard, but i guess you got him back in the end,” you said, your gaze falling to the floor. matthew had gotten a few good hits in on leon during a fight later in the game.

“well, i appreciate the thought, but i’m okay. and yeah, i guess we’re even; for now.”

“does that mean you wouldn’t be interested in doing something that would really piss him off?” you asked, looking up to meet his blue eyes, his eyebrow twitching upward slightly with intrigue.

“why do i get the feeling you’re hoping i am interested?” he took a step closer, and you could smell his cologne now. “big brother do something to make you mad?” he asked, and you found yourself smiling, despite the fact that he was teasing you.

“that’s irrelevant,” you rolled your eyes playfully, taking a step closer so you were only about a foot apart now as you looked up at him. “besides, i’m thinking as much as i would like to get him back, it’s probably best he doesn’t know what i’m thinking right now.”

“yeah, i’m sure he wouldn’t be too happy to know his sister was waiting for me after the game,” he agreed, his eyes travelling up and down your body again.

“leon and everyone left already. i told them i was going back to my hotel room…”

“will they notice if you’re not there?” he asked. and you shook your head with a smile. “then i think we could make a quick detour first..” he trailed off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and leading you down the hallway. “here, don’t want to draw too much attention to yourself.” he threw his suit jacket over your shoulders to cover your jersey as the two of you snuck out of the arena and to his car.

“embarrassed to be seen with me?” you teased as he opened the passenger door for you.

“i was more thinking about how it might look to the paparazzi if they happened to stumble upon us leaving together.”

“wouldn’t that be the scandal of the season,” you laughed as he started the car and drove out of the parking lot and towards his house.

you were barely inside the door before you were trapped between it and his body, matthews hands holding your waist firmly.

“you sure you want this?” he asked, his hips pressed against yours as you stared up at him. “it’s probably a really bad idea…”

“i thought you liked breaking the rules?” you smirked, placing your hands on his chest and sliding them upwards to tangle in his hair.

“hmm i have been known to do that,” he leaned down to capture your lips with his, and tou tugged on his hair as his hands slid under your jersey, bunching the material up. “either way, edmonton jerseys are forbidden in my house so this has to come off,” he smiled.

•

“so not that i care, but was this just to piss your brother off?” matthew asked as he walked back from the bathroom after getting cleaned up, dressed in just his sweatpants.

“sounds like you care a little bit-“ you teased, covering yourself with the blankets on his bed.

“i don’t!” he laughed, and you shook your head with a smile as he handed you a t-shirt to wear.

“mhm,” you hummed. “i’ll be honest, i’ve thought you were cute for a while. pissing leon off was really just a bonus.”

“good to know you weren’t just using me-“ you threw a pillow at him and he laughed as he caught it, crawling back into bed next to you. “okay, i kind of used you just as much, so i guess we’re even. i do love any chance to make your brother angry, but i think that this might be my new favourite,” he said before he kissed your lips.

“agreed,” you smiled, reaching over to grab your phone as it began to buzz on his nightstand. leon’s name appeared on the screen, and you rolled your eyes as you answered it, gesturing for matthew to be quiet.

“hello,” you said plainly, still a little mad at him despite how good of a distraction you’d had for the last two hours. you could see matthew moving closer in your peripheral vision, and you felt his breath on your ear.

“i’m sorry,” leon said on the phone held to your other ear, and you sighed, your breath catching as you felt kisses up the side of your neck. you froze as matty nibbled at the skin of your throat, leaving a light bruise behind as you tried not to make a noise.

“yeah, you were kind of an asshole. i’m kind of glad you lost, actually,” you said, and it was half true.

matthew had to stifle a laugh as he laid down next to you, covering his mouth with his hand.

“i wish you had come to dinner. we missed you,” leon sighed.

“it didn’t seem like you missed me very much earlier,” you replied. “i’d appreciate if you didn’t take it out on me when you lose.”

“i know, i’m sorry. i’ll see you in the morning?” he asked.

“yes, i’ll be there for breakfast. goodnight leon.”

“goodnight,” he replied, before ending the call. you tossed your phone aside as you hit matthew playfully on the shoulder.

“do you know how much trouble we would be in if we got caught?”

“i thought that was the half the fun?” he smiled, crawling on top of you and kissing your lips.

“maybe i’ve decided i want to live to do this again sometime.”

“i like that idea.”

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

#nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl players #real person fiction #hockey #hockey fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #tkachuk #matthew tkachuk #matty tkachuk #florida panthers fic #calgary flames #flames #leon draisaitl fic #leon draisaitl

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

when my hands were caked with dirt at the foot of the grave, you loved me still; ask atrocity of me and see how i tremble with willingness at the sound of your voice.

mt19 x reader: everyone loves to be taken care of.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, oral sex/fingering (m on f, another exception!), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), kind of oral fixation (have you seen the state of that mouthguard), hair-pulling (bring back the curls), lots of praise and tension and all that nonsense, lots of talk about alcohol, also a lot of emotions! (be warned about those damn emotions! this one has a similar vibe to my qh43 og snakes one, i think), idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(long a/n: my favorites - when i tell you i got carried away (again).  but how could i not, when mt19 could not even play in the final cup game because he broke the bone that protects his heart?  when poetry like that calls, you have to answer.  the playoffs inspired me, mt19 inspired me, enough that i created this fictionalized mt19 character that is basically a bunch of insecurities personified.  and the other character is just more of those in bartender form (i loved my bartending years! but they gave me a lot to think about!).  so, sorry.  this one’s a little sad, sometimes.  but you guys seem to like the sad shit, so i hope you like this.  apologies if i get caught up in the theatrics, at times.  we haven’t done a takeaway in a while, so here’s one - you deserve to be chosen and loved and taken care of because you’re you, not just because you’re around.  on a less serious note, can you tell how infatuated i am with mt19′s tooth gap?  yeah, i know, i made it too obvious, i need to relax.  i got a couple okays on the princess name, so if you don’t like it, you should have said something.  am34 is up next, i’m thinking some classic older brother’s best friend, we’ll see if the muses are kind to me.  please let me know what you think, i think i’ve made it obvious that your interaction means everything.  also you guys literally should have seen me trying to figure out the physics of fucking against a barstool, it was legitimately ridiculous.  gif is not mine.  sending so so so much love to you and your snakes.  go canucks.  see you soon.  be your own first choice.

meeting new people simply came with the job of bartending.  new faces filtered in and out of your bar like wisps of fragrant smoke, most of the time too fleeting to truly remember, never mind get to know.

however, the first day he entered your bar, a peculiar feeling hovered around you: the feeling that you already knew him, deeply and personally.

of course, you recognized him and his small group of teammates from the games that constantly played on the screens above the bar, but this was different. you couldn’t quite place the reason behind the feeling, not yet.

he didn’t approach the counter right away, but it was a saturday night, a busy one, so you were constantly being pulled from one patron to another, barely noticing the passage of time as your hands seemed to never stop moving.

but at some point, there he was, sitting at one of your stools, looking at you like he had all the time in the world, a confident, just bordering on arrogant smirk slanting across his face.  you didn’t have the presence of mind or time to appreciate the rest of him, not right now.

but you were paid to treat all customers the same.  and at the end of the day, that’s what he was, at least then.  just another customer on a busy, hectic night.

“what can i get you?” you asked as you mixed a drink for the party at the other end of the counter.  your voice was steady, knowing, friendly, but only just.  

his smirk deepened as he leaned forward.  “all business for the princess, hm?”

your brow furrowed in confusion before you realized where the name had come from.  you absentmindedly adjusted the plastic tiara a birthday party had given you earlier that night - the group of girls around your age had gushed about how delicious their drinks were, how you had made their night, how you just had to have it, how it would look so pretty with your hair.

they were sweet, and they tipped well, so you didn’t push the birthday girl’s hands away when she slid the crown from her head and onto yours, even smiling a bit at the gesture.  it was hard not to smile at women being girls again, and you loved the opportunity to be apart of it.

“princess is my side hustle,” you said to him now, keeping your tone even as you poured the colorful drink you were mixing into two glasses. 

he made a face that you couldn’t decipher before leaning on one of his hands.  “well, listen,” he started, to which you raised a brow.  you didn’t like being told to listen - you just did, it was something you were good at, and being told to made you not want to anymore.  he nodded to the group he came in with.  “my friends over there bet that i couldn’t get your number.  want to help me prove them wrong?”

you turned to drop off the drinks before running his words over in your mind.  you were hit on all the time, another part of the job.  people were attracted to being taken care of, and it was your job to take care of them, which always led to some misunderstandings, some one-sided crushes, some regulars that tipped much more than they needed to.

but something in your stomach dropped at his wording.  you didn’t like it, not at all.

“did they?” you asked, actually focusing on his face for the first time that night as you ran a rag over the counter.  his eyes were blue, so, so, blue, and almost comically confident, unwavering.  as was his smirk, his full lips so perfectly placed and practiced, not quite like a natural habit but more like a learned one.  

and then there was the brutal cut of his jawline, only made more prominent by his scruff of facial hair.  the way his hair curled over the tops of his ears, a youthful but not juvenile look.  his long lashes, elegant nose, flushed complexion, it was a little too perfect, at least for you, right now.

all of his features together appeared more like a masquerade ball mask, not a real, genuine face.  it was off-putting, this actor in front of you, the one you had seen on television so many times.

he hummed in affirmation, smirked deeper. 

you sighed.  “that’s too bad,” you said, to which he gave you what looked like his first genuine expression of the night - one of confusion.  “i only give my number to people who ask for it because they want it.”

you had long ago learned your lesson about being the person someone spent time with in order to please someone else.  it never ended well.

his brow furrowed in further disbelief, complete lack of understanding, maybe a bit of shock, but you only tossed the rag aside and grabbed a glass.  “now, how about a drink?”

he didn’t respond for a second, searching your face for something, maybe an explanation, less probably a spark of remorse.  you let him.  you weren’t going to budge on this, not tonight, not for him.

he shook out of it, literally, a small shake of his head before the mask was back on, in full strength.  “yeah, sure.  just an ipa, whatever you’ve got.”  he addressed you by the name on your name tag, an act you normally hated, but didn’t mind so much now, in his deep tone.

you gave a small grin as you filled a tall glass.  “thank god,” you started.  “after the million mixed drinks i’ve had, you might just be my favorite customer.”  you set the glass down on a paper napkin in front of him, only meaning to meet his eyes for a second.

once you did, though, you did a double take, now trapped in his gaze, completely transfixed on the pure hope you found there, so devastatingly poorly hidden.  this, this was genuine, no mask to be found.  the innocent hope lit up his eyes, his face from within, exposing an almost childlike expression that had you so deeply intrigued.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice no longer oozing with arrogance but instead with something you knew well.  unbridled wanting.  hope, hope, hope.  he might as well have the word please scrawled all over his face in thick marker.

you felt your lips curl up at this new discovery, this crack in his exterior that gave you a sense of deja vu.  “yeah, matthew,” you said, a little slowly, letting the rest of the bar melt away for a second.

this moment felt hot, sticky, like you were both suspended in amber, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.  

but moments don’t last forever, and suddenly one of his friends was slapping him on the shoulder, saying something loudly about taking too long.  you weren’t really listening as you watched his face again harden into that confident expression.

he ordered a round for his friends, and the moment was gone, lost in the neon light, and you were soon pulled again to another patron, the chaotic rhythm of saturday night overtaking you again.

you didn’t see him for the rest of night, caught up in your work.  towards the end of your shift, though, you happened to look up, towards the door, urged by some magnetic force, and found his gaze awaiting yours right before he walked out of the door.

a real face, a real look, unveiled and vulnerable, swimming with heat and hope and a million other dangerous things.  an expression so true that you had to look away from it’s veracity, complete candor.  when you looked up again, he was gone, and you assumed that would be the last time you saw him.  

so, a couple nights later, deep into your shift, you almost dropped the glass in your hand when you turned and found him sitting on that same stool at your counter, looking up at you expectantly with those storybook eyes.  

“matthew,” you said, softly in greeting, almost a question, confused at his presence, especially on a weeknight, without his teammates.  alone, seemingly.

“princess,” he responded, an imperfect smirk playing across his mouth, revealing more teeth than he had the previous night - enough that you could see the gap between his two front, a little detail so beautiful you might have sighed. 

“no crown tonight,” you responded, half smiling.  

“it was never the crown,” he said, to which you gave a slight shake of your head.  it didn’t hide your shy delight.

“where are your friends?” you prompted, slightly suspicious.  

something that looked like hurt flashed ever so briefly across his eyes.  “they’ll be here, princess, don’t worry.”

you shrugged.  “wasn’t worried.  just wondering why you’re here alone.”

your last word seemed to strip him entirely, lay him bare in front of you, completely vulnerable.  you regretted it immediately, felt almost mean.

“but i guess you’re not alone, right?  you’re here with me?”  you gave him a smile, tried to will one out of him, too, half-succeeded.  “ipa?” you asked, eager to bring this interaction back within the boundaries you were familiar with, ones you could control.

“whatever you’ll give me,” was his odd reply, one that had you scrunch up your face instead of reaching for a glass.  “ipa works.”

your voice was laced with confusion.  “i know it works.  what do you want, though?”

again there was that child-like look in his eyes, veiled by a thin film of doubt, uncertainty.

and somehow you thought you knew what might have been holding him back.  you shifted forward, leaned on your elbows, closer than you had been to him before.  “what if i promise you’ll still be my favorite, hm?  will you tell me then?”

you watched his gaze dip down to your mouth as you spoke, linger there before meeting your eyes again.  not like you minded, much as you wanted.  a spark of warning fired in your stomach.  don’t get too close, it mumbled, you can’t fill anyone’s void.

unfortunately, it was hard to deny the utter satisfaction you felt when he looked at you like this - like you had wiped away all the bad things in the world.

but then hands landed on his shoulders, loud greetings between friends exchanged, ripping you both out of the moment.

“now i know why chucky wanted to come back here,” one of them said eventually, looking at you with a gleam in his eye you didn’t quite like.  “i remember you, beautiful.”

“shame,” you said, “i don’t remember you.”

he put a hand over his heart like he’d been hurt, but his smirk was brutally arrogant, almost animalistic.  “how about we make sure you don’t forget my name again, yeah?”

you rolled your eyes.  “matthew, come get your dog,” you said as you grabbed a couple more glasses and began to pour the same drinks they had ordered the other night.

“you want me to start barking?  ‘cause i will,” the persistent teammate pushed before turning to his side.  “but it seems like you’re the one she’s got on a leash, matthew.”

you watched his face carefully as you slid the drinks their way, interested to see what would win out - the desire to maintain his mask around his friends or whatever was building between you two.

you bit your lip as you watched the internal struggle play out across his face, shooting a pleading look your way for a millisecond.

you decided to throw him a bone, put his friends in their place.  “i meant to tell you.  i put your game on yesterday,” you said to him.  

“did you?” he asked, so blissfully hopeful.

“yeah,” you said, leaning forward again, letting yourself get a truly greedy look at him.  “but i like you better in person.”

you reveled in how desperately pleased he looked by your admission.  

“we were playing too, you know,” someone said, half laughing.

“were you?” you asked, a theatrically confused expression on your face.  you shrugged.  “don’t think i saw you.  maybe i was distracted.”

one of his friends laughed.  “don’t feed him, beautiful, he’ll just keep coming back.”

but you didn’t even look at whoever said the comment, instead completely locked in on matthew, and he on you.  

“god, i hope so,” you said, barely more than a whisper, only meant for him.

just something you said, a true thing, and yet he did.  every couple of days you would look up and there he would be, on that stool at your counter, looking up at you.  sometimes his friends would come, and sometimes they wouldn’t, and on nights he was playing you would always put the game on the television where you could best see it, so you could best see him.

and despite everything he did, everything he said to you, which screamed longing and interest and want, you were surprised every time he came back.  surprised that his interest in you didn’t wear off after the first couple indulgences, like it seemed to with everyone else.

but, then again, matthew struck you as the kind of person who could make a home out of anything, anyone - like the kids who would cry if someone tried to come into their treehouse, as if the magic of the place was defined by it being all for them.  

sometimes this job made you feel like a building with a revolving door, so many faces fading immediately as they came into your life.  it felt so good to have whatever this was, this constant, even if that warning voice tried to convince you it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t last.

one night, when you put his away game on, he was picking fights, antagonizing the other team, all the while chewing on that abused mouthguard, which never failed to catch your attention, send a little shiver down your spine, make you wonder what those teeth would feel like on your bottom lip, your fingers, your neck.

this night, though, the officials had had enough, and handed him a game misconduct.  he skated off the ice, into the tunnel, chants and boos echoing through the arena so loudly that even the television cameras caught their strength.  

still, when the camera focused in on matthew’s face, there was nothing but that cocky, knowing smirk, that one that he had showed you the first day.  that fake one.  you narrowed your eyes at the tv, felt your stomach turn at the fact that he could be two people at once.  how could you ever trust him that way?  how could you ever believe that he really, truly, wanted you?  that warning voice compressed into a lump that settled in your stomach.

the lump was still there that next night, and so was he, there in his usual spot, right before you were about to close.  “missed you, princess,” he said, those blue eyes so full of meaning.  

and you hated how those words meant so much to you.  “yeah?” you asked, wiping down the counter.  “what’d you miss?”

you expected the answer that so many people in your life had given you before: how they liked how you made them feel, how you paid attention to them.  nothing about you, rather something that said more about them.  

so you were stunned when his gaze dropped to you lips and stayed there.  “think i started to dream about your smile,” he said, and you may have sighed, just a little, as you felt your cheeks flush.

“did you watch me?” he asked, that spark of hope lighting up his face in a silent plea.  

you nodded slowly, remembering the game.  “wish you had stayed on the ice longer.”

he shrugged, the motion emphasizing the muscles in his shoulders and neck.  you pretended not to notice.

“why do you smile when they hate you?” you asked, your head tilted in genuine curiosity, recalling his face as he made his way down the tunnel.  

there was that mask again.  “i love it.”

“you don’t,” you said, shaking your head slightly, watched him swallow.

“what?” he asked.  you could have imagined the smallest shake in his voice.

“you don’t.  you do that other smile you do.”  you didn’t tell him your theory, that you knew if a crowd booed loud enough, maybe he could close his eyes and pretend they were cheering, instead.  pretend it was love.

he made a sound that was half-laugh, half-scoff.  “what other smile?”

you bit your lip, unsure how to explain it.  you reached your hands forward, paused for a moment as his eyes widened, so flooded with want.  that beautiful second of expectation before a first touch, the first of what you inherently knew would be many.

“like-” you put your hands on his face, ever so lightly, moved his lips until that cocky smirk was opposite you.  “like this.”

“like this, princess?” he asked through your fingers, his breath on your palms, and heat thrummed in your stomach.  

you nodded slowly, reluctant to take your hands off of him.  “and my favorite one is like this,” you said, moving his lips again until you were satisfied with the replica smile you had created, toothy and wide and beautiful - until you realized he was smiling at you like that anyways, without any manipulation.

you grinned back at him, melted at the simmering heat and longing in his eyes.  before you could question it, you let yourself tap one finger to his front teeth, feeling the gap there, that imperfect feature you had most loved when you first saw it, felt your throat tighten at the way he was looked at you, the way he let his mouth just barely close around your finger.

a feather light motion that made your next breath come out shaky before drawing yourself away.  you hadn’t realized just how close you had drifted towards him, even with the counter between you.

you glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it much later than you expected.  “i need to close,” you said, clearing your throat.  “i need to count the register.”

“okay.”  he looked dazed.  maybe in a cartoon there would have been pink mist or little hearts floating around his head.  

you tried to collect yourself, ignore the phantom of his lips around your finger, a ghost of a kiss, a promise, a plea.

you gave a shake of your head.  “i need to sit there.  the register unlocks from that side, in front of your chair.”

your stomach dropped at the sudden darkness his eyes took on, so much so that you knew you would give in to whatever he said next.  

instead of getting up, he pushed his hips up and back, spread his legs apart, settling deeper into the seat.  “seat’s open, princess,” he said, and the confidence in his voice, all over his face, it wasn’t fake, it wasn’t a mask.

it was real, genuine, set ablaze by your touch.

you looked around.  you were closed, everyone was gone on this monday night, except the owner, a lady older than sin who was mopping in the corner, and who was known for minding her own business.

there was nobody to judge you there, nobody to punish you for giving into this, exactly what you wanted.

time felt like jelly as you made your way around the counter, paused for a beat in front of him before he helped you up onto his lap by your waist, faced you towards the register drawer, let his arms rest around your middle.

“this okay?” he asked softly, his breathy rasp warm on your neck.

you breathed out a yes, slightly overwhelmed by all of this touch at once.  his chest behind you, radiating heat, his thighs firm below you, thick arms around you.  here he was, everywhere, all at the same time, and after only interacting with a counter between you, this felt almost absurdly perfect, forbidden.

so perfect that it took every semblance of your concentration to unlock the register drawer, to push the rise and fall of his chest to the back of your mind, to ignore how your own body seemed to melt into his, relax completely, an utterly miraculous contrast to the stiff, constantly active way you usually were at work.

“still okay?” he asked as he rested his head on your shoulder.  you could feel his facial hair through your thin shirt, smell his cologne, knew you would smell like it, too.  his thighs flexed underneath you, and you could have moaned.  you were having trouble focusing on counting, never mind answering his question.  

he rumbled with a laugh you felt more than heard.  “princess?”

“still okay,” you managed, “but you have to be still.  i need to count.”  

you felt him nod and smile into your shoulder as you got to counting, the rhythm of the bills eventually lining up with the rhythm of his breathing against your back, so peaceful and right that maybe, eventually, you both would have fallen asleep like this.  

“finished,” you whispered when you were done, organizing everything back where it needed to go, soaking up the last few moments of his touch for that night.  

“already?” he asked, although it had probably been half an hour.  

you hummed, pushed yourself up and off of him, even as his hands continued to reach for you, his gaze hungry.  

so hungry it scared you.  you still didn’t quite know if he just wanted someone, or if he wanted you, if he would have acted this way for anyone who asked the right questions, gave him the attention he craved, saw through his mask.  

hungry, hungry, hungry, and what scared you most was that you knew that you weren’t hungry for just anyone.  only for him.  and that question of reciprocation, it was like injecting ice into your blood.

“it’s late,” you said.  “you have to go.”

if he was hurt, he didn’t show it, seemingly completely fine with taking things however slowly you wanted to.  “okay,” he said.  “may i have your number, please?”  there was your favorite smile.

you smiled, despite yourself.  “why?”

maybe it was the late hour that caused him to misspeak when he said, “because i want you.”  he quickly realized his mistake and flushed, only just.  “it!” he corrected, looking like a kid with chocolate he wasn’t supposed to eat schmeared all over his face.  “i meant i want it.”

you fluttered at his mix-up, delighted that maybe he meant what he said.  enough that this time, you didn’t deny his request.

it was a while before you saw him again in person, as he had back to back games and then several away contests before coming home again.  but, like always, you put him on the screen by the bar, feeling yourself warm every time the camera caught his face.

one night, a late night, a couple hours after one of his games had ended, you looked up and you saw him at the doorway.

a bad feeling immediately bloomed inside you.

it had been a tough loss, close until the end, and one of his stupid penalties had forced a power play goal in overtime for the opponent.  worse, this result had been crucial for their playoff bid.  it wasn’t looking good. 

you had not expected to see him tonight - he usually didn’t come by on game nights, only on nights off.  and he didn’t look right as he stood under the neon signs at the door, he looked off.  he looked drunk.

his speech was slow and slurred, making you cringe.  after a couple of years at this job, oh, how you hated drunk people.  oh, how you never wanted to see him like this, so at the mercy of something as truly stupid as alcohol.

and even more so, how you hated to see him drink himself stupid, how you wanted to make everything all better.  you signaled for the bar-back to cover for a moment.

you walked around the counter and approached him.  “matthew,” you began, “what’s going on?”  you tentatively touched his forearm before grabbing one of his hands, wrapping it in both of yours, bitterly aware that he was not present as you were.

“oh, princess,” he said, stumbling just a bit into your grip as you pulled him outside.  he mumbled something you couldn’t hear before laughing, but the laugh was cruel, devastated.

when you were outside, the only audience was the small group of smokers that always hung around the front of the bar.  you took his face in your hands.  “tell me what happened.”

“what happened?” he said slowly.  “what happened?” he repeated, maybe asking himself.  “ruined it, always ruin it, ruin everything.”  his voice came out like a haunted childlike sing-song.  it made your heart shatter.

you looked in his eyes, still holding his face.  “you do not ruin everything, okay?  you just need to go home and sleep this off.”

“princess, princess, always tryna’ make me feel better,” he slurred, letting the whole weight of his head rest in your hands, your fingertips touching the wisps that curled around his ears.  he stumbled forward into you.  “need to kiss you, yeah?  make me feel better.”

you dropped your hands from his cheeks as if you had been scalded.  if your heart wasn’t broken before, it was now, as you pushed his chest away while he leaned forward.  you felt tears begin to prickle on your waterline.  

of course, he wanted you now, when he was begging to be taken care of, when he was outwardly desperate to be reassured, when his vision was probably so impaired that he couldn’t really even see your face.  

of course he wanted you now, when you could have been anyone.

“one of our cabs will take you home,” you said, trying to hide the wobble in your voice as you waved one over, barely able to look at him.  

he pouted.  “what?” he said, teasing, but there was a bite to his tone.  “don’t like me like this?  not your favorite anymore?”

you didn’t have the energy to scoff.  “don’t be mean.  sober up.  goodnight.”  you opened the car door for him, forced him down into the seat.

“don’t you want to kiss me?” he pressed, looked up at you, like he had before so many times from his barstool.  like he had so many times, when it had been different.

oh, how they love to be taken care of.  and look at you, taking care of them.  desperate, foolish girl.

and even now, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie, to say no.  “ask me when you’re not out of your mind.”  you shut the car door and turned away, wiped your eyes with your sleeves quickly and methodically before taking a breath and getting back to the bar, to your job.

but you were a shell of yourself for the rest of the night, his words repeating over and over again in your mind.  make me feel better.

so you blocked his number that you had just added, sighed of relief when one of your colleagues mentioned his team was headed away for a long stretch on the road.  a week and a half without him.  surely, completely isolated from him, you could forget about what happened.

and you half-believed that, until you came into work that next day and realized you would not be completely isolated from him at all.

right next to his stool there sat a bouquet of flowers and a red jersey, folded up.  you already knew what name was on the back.  you stood still at the entrance, reluctant to approach the offering.

“left it earlier,” the owner called from across the room, sweeping.  “i told ‘m to fuck off, but he wouldn’t.”

“thanks anyways,” you said.  

“i asked him why not,” she continued, the barest hint of a smile on her thin lips.  

you furrowed your brow, confused. 

“asked why he wouldn’t fuck off,” she said, “took him a second.”

you breathed out a laugh.  

“said you didn’t know how much he cared, yet.  and he needed you to know.”

you swallowed.  “that’s nice of him,” you said, running the words over in your mind.

“not everyone deserves your second chances,” she said.  “but i don’t let just anyone in our bar before we open.”

the words settled between you like diamond dust.  the owner finished sweeping and left.

you approached the gift, found a note sitting on top of it in terrible handwriting.

i’m sorry, it read, i’m back next thursday.  i’ll ask you then.  you wondered briefly what he was going to ask you before you recalled what he had said to you that night when you put him in a car.  your inability to fully turn him away.

you took a shaky breath as you read the last line of the note.

even if i’m not your favorite, you’re still mine.

your stomach fluttered, surprising you.  so simple, and yet those words meant everything to you.  that even when he got nothing from you, he wanted you still.

you hoped and hoped and hoped he meant it, and you believed it enough that you put the flowers in a vase and wore the jersey for each of his game days.

thursday came faster than you thought it would, probably because of how nervous you were.  in this time apart, anything could be true.  he could mean what he said, he could want you and only you, you could be counting down the minutes until finally kissing him, touching him how you so desired.

deep down, you were so deeply afraid that when he showed up, if he even showed up, that dreamy facade would be broken, and instead all of your greatest worries and insecurities would be realized.  

throughout your whole thursday night shift, you were jittery, versions of how tonight could play out flashing through your mind.  

the entire night flew by, until eventually it was time to close, and you tried to ignore your heart sinking.  maybe this version of tonight, the one with you alone, maybe this one was for the best.

you counted the register, began to mop, waved goodnight to the owner as she left for the night and reminded you to lock up.  

you did your final wipe-down of the counter, feeling the devastation begin to finally set in.  you scrunched up your face, told yourself you wouldn’t cry on your bar top.

“princess.”

you looked up, and there he was, draped in neon light, and for a second it looked like sunlight streaming in through church stained-glass windows.

the sentiment didn’t seem altogether different.  how many prayers had been answered at this bar?  how many homemade temples had been elicited?  how many haphazard gods?

“didn’t think you were coming,” you said as he made his way over to you, sat down on his stool, exactly the same dynamic as that first day, but there was no one else.  only you and him.

“it’s my fault you ever had a doubt,” he said, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes, an ocean of apology.

you nodded, tossed the rag aside, rested your forearms on the counter and looked at him, eye to eye, and waited for him to say something.

“i’m sorry,” he said simply, and there was no mask to be found, only genuine regret.  “i’m sorry i showed up here the way i did, i’m sorry i embarrassed you at work, i’m sorry i made you feel like just another person.”

you felt your heart stitching itself back together, however painful the process.  he gently took your hands in his, warm and rough and firm.  “you’re not just another person, okay, princess?”  his voice was rough. 

your exhale was choppy, so forced you had to close your eyes for a second.  how long had you waited to hear somebody say that to you?

“you didn’t embarrass me,” you whispered.  “i could never be ashamed of you.”

he gave the smallest laugh, shook his head.  “even now, that’s what you focus on.  how i’m feeling.”

“only because i care about how you’re feeling,” you said, almost defensive.

“you gonna let me care about how you’re feeling?” he asked, his thumbs tracing circles on your palms.  

you stayed quiet, bit your lip, searched his eyes for an trace of doubt, falseness, didn’t find any.  only a slowly simmering flame, drowning in want.

“you’re too far away,” you whispered.

“i’ve always resented this counter,” he said with a hint of a smile. 

you gave a small smile back as you walked around the bar top, finally stood in front of him, exhaled before sitting down on top of him, your legs straddling his hips, your faces only a breath apart.  you clasped your arms around his neck, leaned forward into his chest as his hands settled on your hips.

“ask me,” you all but begged.

his voice was a low rasp, his gaze syrupy with lust.  “don’t you want to kiss me?”

you nodded, and he smiled, and then you were leaning forward, finally capturing his lips in a kiss that felt like neon light and television static and a million pleases, all finally answered with of course, anything for you.

you let yourself melt into his chest, tangled a hand in his curls, felt his grip tighten on the flesh at your hips.

he smiled into your mouth when you ran your tongue along the gap between his front teeth, groaned when you began to move your hips back and forth across his lap.  

you tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck as you felt him grow harder beneath you, to which he bit down ever so lightly on your bottom lip, the feeling even better than what you had imagined all those times you had watched him gnaw on his mouthguard.

he used his grip to set your hips into a rhythm as you ground down on his lap.

“want to taste you so bad, princess,” he breathed into your mouth.  “let me take care of you, yeah?  just want to make you feel good.”

you nodded feverishly, tugged at your clothes as he lifted you off of his lap and rested you back onto the counter.

laid bare for him, you become aware of how wet you already were, perhaps the result of all the waiting, the questioning, the wanting that had existed between you both since the beginning.

he groaned at the sight of you.  “fuck,” he rasped, “so wet already, hm?”  he ran a finger through your folds, brought it to his mouth and sucked.  “who’s this for, princess?”

“for you,” you whimpered, so eager for him to touch you how you wanted.  “for you, matthew.”

“all for me.”  you could hear the satisfaction in his voice before he leaned forward and began to tease you with his tongue, forced a choked moan from your throat.  

one of your hands braced the counter for stability while the other shot forward of its own volition, grasping a handful of his curls, making him grunt.  the noise vibrated through you.

“fuck,” you bit out, overwhelmed.  he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your hips push up into him and your grip on his hair tighten.  “fuck, you’re good at that.”

you felt his smile as he pushed two fingers inside of you, began to move them in and out slowly while continuing to tongue your clit.

you moaned loudly as your eyes rolled back, the combination of sensations making it hard to control your breathing, stop your back from arching up off the counter.  

he brought his other hand to your stomach and pressed down, cementing your hips down into the bar top, intensifying every shock of pleasure, immediately bringing you impossibly close.  “fuck, i can’t,” you whimpered, your hand grasping for sheets that weren’t there.  “can’t, shit, so close-”

he lifted his head up, thumbed your clit while curling his fingers slightly inside of you.  “gonna cum for me?” he cooed.

you nodded, eyes scrunched shut.

“cum, then, princess,” he pressed.  “make a mess for me, hm?”

that building wave finally crashed over you, and you gave him exactly what he wanted, reveled in the fact that you could.  

you caught your breath, let out a weak exhale, opened your eyes when you felt him press a light kiss against your hip, on the side of your ribs, up to your collarbone, finally on your lips.

pressed against you, you could feel every inch of him, so hard, immediately making you hungry for him again.  “more,” you pleaded simply.

“yeah?” he rasped against your lips.  “want more of me?”

you palmed his cock in reply, making him hiss, helped him move his clothes aside.  “need to feel you inside me.”

he shifted you off of the counter and against his stool, which you immediately bent over and rested your forearms on.

he groaned, pumped his cock once, twice.  “tell me this is okay, princess.”

you nodded.  “please fuck me, matthew.”

he did as told, pushing inside you entirely, barely giving you any time to adjust before he set a brutal pace, practically splitting you in half.

“holy fuck,” he choked out as you stretched around him.  “shit, you’re so perfect for me.  bein’ so good, princess, stretching for me so well.”

you moaned as you began to adjust to his size, every part of you still so sensitive from your last orgasm.

he built up his rhythm, forceful and deep but never so much that it hurt, only a pleasant pressure that began to build inside of you.

“so deep,” you whined, your voice muffled by your own arm, “fuck, feels so good.”

he grunted in time with a slow thrust in response, making your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation.

“want to see you,” he rasped, hooking one hand around your thigh and flipping you around before pushing back into you, so that now your back was against the stool, your front facing him, one knee bent.  he groaned when your eyes met.  “fuck, like that.”

you reached one arm up to his shoulder for support, rested the other one back against the stool.  your thighs began to shake from the stimulation, making you clench down on him harder, urging another deep moan from him.  

time disappeared as the rhythm of you both continued, so lost in the feeling of him and his noises, so perfect and better than anything you had imagined.

at one point, he brought one of his hands to your clit, began to tease you again with his thumb, while the other hand braced the back of your neck.

“hm, look, princess,” he said, his voice rough with wear, as he forced your gaze down to where your bodies met.  “watch me fuck you, yeah?”

you whimpered at his crudeness, couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight in front of you, his cock thrusting into you, his hands willing you to the edge again.

he let out a choked laugh.  “oh, you like that, hm?  feel you close.”

“fuck, i’m so close, matthew,” you whimpered, feeling your legs give out.

“‘s okay, princess, ‘m there too,” he mumbled, his motions becoming less controlled.  “cum with me, yeah?  want to feel you cream on my cock.”

you did as he asked, spurred on by his words, the overstimulation.  you felt him reach his high with a groan, warm inside of you, his body collapsing against yours.

you held each other close for several long moments, the only noise between you satisfied breaths and shallow heartbeats.  the air was warm, so peaceful, and you bit back a smile at how this bar was now forever changed - this peace would never leave.

you felt his facial hair scratch gently against your shoulder as his head rested there, so content to simply have you close.  

it could have been a lifetime.  it was probably a minute or two.

he was the first to speak.  “so,” he said, drowsy and sweet, “you guys still open?  how’re my chances of getting a captain and coke?”

you smiled.  how far you had come from the man with the mask asking for anything, maybe an ipa.

if please had been written all over him before, x’s and o’s were now, in pastel pink.

“anything for my favorite,” you said, and he kissed just under your ear.

fin.

#nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl smut #hockey smut #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #florida panthers #stanley cup finals #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #calgary flames #leon draisaitl #sidney crosby smut

[luvmmarner]

MATTHEW TKACHUK - Good 4 u

This is one of the older works of mine, so my writing style is pretty different. It's a reupload since it was just gone for some reason. TW: cheating, heart break, no happy ending (sorry not really). PART OF THE SOUR SERIES

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You found a new girl, and it only took a couple weeks

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world? (World?)

Only 3 weeks it took Matthew to move on. You knew way before that he was cheating. The look of losing interest was plastered on his face every time he looked at you. He rarely even called you when he was away for a few days. But you denied it until you couldn’t. You always would brush it off and say to yourself. That Matthew would never do that to you. Even when the evidence was clearly in front of you.

During the start of the relationship Matthew always wanted what was best for you and would do anything you wanted. He wanted to give you everything the world included. That was however, when he was still in love with you. It didn’t seem like that now. 

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doing great out there without me, baby

God, I wish that I could do that

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom

After you and Matthew broke up it seemed like this new girlfriend of his just stepped right into your place. They both started to post on instagram and it was even on some headlines. All talk about their relationship. Heck, not even one person seemed to care. You didn’t really expect anyone too, because Matthew never posted or your relationship never was public. His pathetic excuse was ‘I don’t want you to get backlash or hate.’ You believed it was true until some point when he started to talk to his current girlfriend.

It seemed like his life was perfect and that he was clearly doing way better without you there. His new girlfriend was a full on replacement and was probably doing a way better job then you ever had. He moved on unlike you. Whenever you turned on your phone or tried to scroll through instagram, posts of him were everywhere. You couldn’t help break down which made your heart break even more and restart all over again.

Almost every night you would find yourself on the floor crying, wishing that you could go restart everything and find out. What you did wrong in the relationship. You tried your best and it hurt so badly.

Well, good for you, I guess you're getting everything you want (ah)

You bought a new car and your career's really taking off (ah)

It's like we never even happened

Baby, what the fuck is up with that? (Ha)

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

It’s only been a month since you and Matthew split and he seemed to be getting everything he ever wanted. He had an amazing girlfriend and they bought a house together. And his career was taking off ever since he moved to florida to play for them. He was the talk of hockey currently and you couldn’t go a day without hearing someone talk about him. It frustrated you; it was like you never existed to him. The fans didn't even know. Not even any of his new teammates or old teammates. You were just another stranger to all of them. It was like you and him never even met or knew each other. He didn’t even reach out, you were truly nothing to him.

Maybe I'm too emotional

But your apathy is like a wound in salt

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

After a while you started to ask yourself if you’re just too emotional. Clearly he didn’t feel how you felt. But you decided it was because of what he put you through. He never showed care or apathy like how you showed him. It was because he never truly cared. Why else would he leave you when you tried your absolute best for him. 

Whenever you tried to recall him caring about you or showing interest. You couldn’t remember you and matthew were together for 9 months and during the 6 month mark is when he started to slowly lose interest in you. It started with him not asking how your day was and it came to the point where he wouldn't even call you, or cognize you.  

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily.

It was now time for you to move on, so that’s what you did. You packed up your stuff and said goodbye to everything you ever knew in your city and moved. You moved closer to some friends in New York. You bought yourself a small little apartment and set yourself up there. For a fresh start and new beginnings.

After a few weeks in your new city you began to feel comfortable and happy. There wasn’t really any mention of Matthew in New York, as there’s two New York teams and they were mainly the talk of the night & day. So you fully moved on partially yes you would sometimes have a good cry here and there. But it wasn’t frequent. You could finally go to NHL games without tearing up and you started to post on instagram again.

You were almost ready to start dating again until your phone lit up and a message appeared on your lock screen. You didn’t even need to look twice. You already knew who it was. "I’m sorry." You didn’t want to hear it. It’s been months and he messages you now. You couldn’t deal with it, you didn’t want to restart all of your progress you made over the months. So you just blocked the number and threw your phone across the room not even thinking twice to even send a response back. It felt good to finally get rid of the last fragment of your relationships existence. He moved on really easily so you can finally now as well.

#matthew tkachuk #nhl hockey #hockey #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey angst #angst #nhl sour #matthew tkachuk imagine #florida panthers #calgary flames #nhl angst

[swissboyhisch]

That Scar Hurt By The Way

Pairing: Nikita Zadorov x Reader

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate link, you happened to luck out with a pain link.

Word Count: 1424

Warnings: None I think. It is an AU though.

Request: From ANON I need soulmate and or were! fics so bad any player!😍😍🥞🥞

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Soulmates. A term used to describe two people who were meant to be with each other. Can be used platonically but more common when referring to romantic relationships.

No-one knows when it began but these days, people were born with a link to their soulmate. There were different links you could have. Marks shared by the two. Person A draws on themselves and it appears on person B. One is singing/listening to a song and the other can hear it. Some have a measure of how much danger their partner is in. 

You were born with the pain sharing and matching scars link. Growing up, you’d have random bruises popping up on your body. At random points through the years, you’d feel bursts of pain before the bruises arose. They became more frequent in your later teens and early adulthood. And more painful.

There was one instance in particular that you vividly remember. 7th of November 2019. You were going about your day, teaching one of your grade 10 classes, when you felt something hit you in the face. Your hands flew to your lip. The pain was extensive. 

“Miss!” One of the girls shouted as the class watched you hunch over.

“Are you okay?” 

You worked up the courage to pull your hands away from your jaw. Blood. And a lot of it. “I–” 

“I’m going to get Miss Allen.”

Julie, one of your students, helped you to your desk and handed you the trash can. The pain became too much. Vomiting despite trying to hold it in. Your students whisper, worried about you. The sound of heels rushing to your class made you groan. 

“Okay guys,” Lily, your colleague and close friend, called. She clapped her hands to gain the class’ attention. “Can you please make your way next door to Mrs. Harrison’s class. She knows you are coming. Hurry please.”

Lily made her way over to you, towel in hand. You looked up at her. “Hi.”

“Hey, you look like you took a puck to the face,” She jokes.

You hold the towel to your face wound and give her a glare. “Thanks.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Lily states. “I have Hayley covering my class. And Nick is coming to pick up your class.”

15 stitches later and some strong medication helped you push through. That’s the day that won't leave your mind. You now have a permanent scar over your chin and lip that you try to cover daily. Makeup has become your best friend. Since then you have struggled with your self image. Men would cringe away, disgusted, when they saw the scar. 

Despite your quite obvious soulmate link, it was years after that event that you had met him. Nikita Zadorov. A Russian NHL defenseman for the Calgary Flames. Six foot five. Brown hair. Chocolate brown eyes. 

You moved to Canada to teach recently. Better pay. Calgary to be precise. And one day at the end of the school year, you had to cover for a PE class. You were told it was going to be an easy cover since there were a couple guests coming to talk to the grade 10 group. A couple of hockey players. Sure, you had watched hockey but not to a crazy extent. The class though… excitement. It was all they have been talking about for weeks. God forbid having these students after this period.

“I have your guests here,” One of the office ladies called as she entered the gym. 

In walked three guys wearing Calgary Flames merch. You smile, offering your hand and name. 

“Tyler Toffoli.”

“Jacob Markstrom.”

Then he stepped forward. I mean it was hard not to notice him. But the first thing that caught your eye was the scar on his jaw. One that happened to match yours. “Nikita Zadorov.”

“Hi…” Before you could shake his hand or say anything else the students started coming in. “Guys come sit down and you’ll get to talk to them at the end of class.”

“And signatures?” One of the boys asked. 

“Yes. And signatures.”

You got to sit at the back watching over the students and observing. You needed to find out more about the tall defenseman. Without you noticing either, Zadorov kept glancing at you. The class finally got to question time where they were firing off all types of questions, about hockey, about the team. But one piqued your interest.

“How did you get that scar?” One of the students asked Zadorov.

The man chuckled, “I got a puck to the face back at the start of the 2019-2020 season.”

Thanks to his words, you were thrown back into that memory. The pain. The healing process. You were basically 100% sure he was your soulmate. But there was one way of confirming it. Pain. A pinch to your arm. Nothing too extreme but it was enough to make him jump in surprise. One that you noticed.

The bell rang, indicating the end of the period and the start of lunch. The students finally left, and you went forward to thank them for coming in. They were staying for the last period to talk to another class, but you wouldn’t be covering. 

“Thank you for today. The kids loved it,” You hummed. “It was an honour.”

“I don’t want to be annoying, but do you have a scar on your lip?” Toffoli asked.

It caught you out. Too nervous to say anything. “I mean yeah, I got it years ago. Puck to the face. You know the drill.” You didn’t mean to say the puck bit, but you couldn’t think of any other excuse. Bloody Lily and her joke. 

“Same as me,” Zadorov smiled.

“Yeah…”

“Soulmates,” Markstrom grinned.

Zadorov pinches himself without you realising. You didn’t jump but you rubbed where he pinched. “You are my soulmate.”

“I think so… That scar hurt by the way.”

Neither of you could believe it. Your soulmate. 

“Can I see it?” Zadorov asked shyly. He remembered how badly it hurt. To know you also felt it. God that hurt him more than the actual injury. “The scar I mean.”

You guided him to your class where you could have the conversation in private. The other two dropped off at the staff room for some lunch. You sat down at your desk and pulled out your makeup wipes. Using your phone camera as a mirror, you wiped off your makeup covering the scar.

“May I?”

After agreeing, Zadorov’s hand comes to cup your jaw. Sparks filled your bodies, the soulmate touch. So gentle. Lightly ghosting your skin. His thumb grazed the scar. The dented lines across your lips and down your chin. One scar matching his.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, feeling his heart break once more.

When it first happened, he was aware that his soulmate was experiencing this at the same time. The pain accelerated because of this knowledge. Every time he looked in the mirror, he imagined what it would look like on another person. His soulmate. But to finally see it on them, the pain returned. He did this to you.

You smile softly, “It’s okay.”

“15 stitches,” he muttered.

“7th November 2019.”

Zadorov, still cupping your jaw, leaned in. Pressing his forehead to yours. “Tell me about it.”

“I was teaching back in Anchorage. End of the day. A grade 10 class. They’re probably scarred for life. Just feeling that sudden pain, hunching over covering my lip and jaw. But that pain had me vomiting. My friend had to take me to hospital. She even made a joke that it was like I took a puck to the face.”

“Well, you did,” Zadorov offers, “Kind of, anyway.”

Your class door opened and there stood your favourite colleague with Toffoli and Markstrom behind her. “When they said Zadorov had met his soulmate and it was the PE teacher, was a little shocked thinking it was Mr. Paulson for a hot sec.”

“Yes Big Z,” Toffoli grinned, messing with the defenseman’s hair. 

Zadorov pushed his teammate away with a roll of his eyes. “Leave us alone.”

“Can’t do sadly, bell is about to go so we have to head to the gym.”

You got an expectant look which made you shake your head. “I’m not covering for the next class. I have one of my own.”

“Can I see you after?” Zadorov asked.

“I hope you’d want to,” You laugh.

“Out of all the soulmate links to have, we have this. But I’m thankful it’s you.”

TAG LIST:

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

#nikita zadorov imagine #nikita zadorov x reader #nikita zadorov #nikita zadorov fic #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #soulmate au #swissboyhisch imagine #swissboyhisch #nhl smut #nikita zadorov imagines #nikita zadorov blurb #nikita zadorov rpf #nikita zadorov fanfiction #Calgary flames imagine #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames x reader #calgary flames fanfiction #calgary flames fic #calgary flames blurb #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl rpf #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey rpf #hockey imagine

[ilyasorokinn]

winner, winner, chicken dinner ― matthew tkachuk

note: the win. i think i'm still on a high and they aren't even a team i'm actively rooting for. summary: pre win and post win. warnings: alcohol consumption, mild cursing word count: 741 words

matthew was getting ready in the bathroom when jamie walked in, wearing his own little suit, "what're you getting dressed up for?"

"going with you, daddy." jamie answered.

matthew smiled, picking up max and setting him on the counter, and helping him tie his tie. you walked into the bathroom, wearing your special red playoff jean jacket.

"what happened to your speical jersey?" you asked.

"didn't want to." jamie shrugged, “wanted to match with daddy,” he smiled.

“oh.” you nodded, brushing his hair.

“i need help.” olivia announced, joining you in the bathroom.

“me too.” max, ever the mama's boy, ran in after olivia and ran right into your legs.

“oof.” you grunted, “what do you need help with?”

“i can’t tie my shoes,” he admitted shyly.

“come on, let’s get shoes on you.” you smiled, picking him up and carrying him back out to his room.

“what do you need help with?” matthew asked, bending down to olivia’s height.

“mommy said she would help me with my hair.” olivia smiled.

“sadly, i can’t help you with that.”

the entire tkachuk family had flown in to see matthew play, whether that was at home or in dallas. it made life easier knowing that at any given point, all three tkachuk kids were either with their aunt, uncle or grandparents.

olivia was standing up close to the glass, trying to spot matthew. jamie was sitting in between chantel and keith while max was with you and taryn. brady was off somewhere being a menace.

"daddy!" olivia cheered, slapping her hands on the glass. that caught both max and jamie's attention and they both shot up, eyes immediately glued on the ice.

matthew skated over, a few pucks in hand and he tossed three over the glass for your three kids, then tossed a few more to a few kids around you.

he turned his attention back to the three kids in front of him and waved. he blew them all kisses and told him he loved them. he blew you a kiss and sent you a wink, then skated back, blowing kisses to the rest of his family.

the stars were up by one but you were hopeful because it was only the second period. the puck went down into flames' zone, then jacob hit it over to johnny who skated towards the net then passed it over to matthew who took his shot and made it.

the horn sounded and the crowd went wild. you were sure, out of everyone in the entire arena, that the tkachuk family was cheering the loudest.

by the end of the game, max was asleep. olivia and jamie were wide awake though, due to the giant soda uncle brady had given them halfway into the second period.

you waited for matthew to finish up media in the tunnel, "can we go find daddy?" olivia asked.

"daddy's doing interviews," you told her.

"where's that?" jamie asked.

"over there." you pointed. they looked over, then looked back over at you, silently asking to go in.

you thought about it, "i'll take them." chantel volunteered.

"don't cause too much trouble," you told them, and they instantly smiled, linking hands with their grandma and making their way into the media room.

matthew was mid-question when he heard them walk in. he instantly brightened up and motioned for them to come over. they looked over at chantel, who nodded, and they ran over, hugging their dad.

"hey, what're you guys doing here?" he laughed, kissing their heads and letting them climb into his lap.

"are you almost done?" olivia asked, causing everyone else in the room to laugh.

"yeah liv. almost done." he pressed another kiss to her head and got back to the interview.

"and one last question for olivia and jamie, are you guys excited that your dad made it to round one?"

"yeah." they both nodded.

"thanks, guys." matthew nodded, and let the kids hop off his lap and made his way out to the tunnel. he spotted the tkachuk clan almost as soon as he stepped out of the media room and made a beeline over to you, each hand linked with a child.

"there's my superstar." you grinned, leaning over the sleeping child and kissing him.

"you did great, dude." brady patted him on the back.

"can we get ice cream?" jamie asked.

"maybe tomorrow. you're a little past your bedtime." olivia and jamie pouted.

-

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[tkachuckycheese]

on the line - part two

read part one here!

summary: matthew shows up post-breakup, post playoff series loss at your apartment.... what will you do? 

word count: 1.1k 

warnings: EXTRA smutty lmao (use protection kids) 

note: here’s part two/continuation of my sadness about the flames getting eliminated early (yes clearly still not over it almost a month later). let me know what you think :))) 

It hits you so hard, you let out a shudder. You either have to believe him or you have to let him go. 

And the only thing that terrifies you more than forgiving him is losing him. 

So you take a ragged breath and you whisper, “Prove it.” 

His eyes meet yours as he reaches up and grabs your face again. This time, you don’t fight him. His mouth lands on yours and you slip your tongue past his beautiful lips. He holds your head with one hand, tangling his fingers in your hair and grabbing your ass with the other. He squeezes so hard it’ll leave a mark and then he bends his massive thighs, wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. His tongue never leaves your mouth. 

You’ve missed this–the way he dominates you. The way he manhandles you. 

You wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you into the living room, right up to the couch and then he lays you down on it. Hovering above, he reaches over his head, pulls his hoodie off and drops it to the floor as he crawls on top. You spread your legs to make room. The minute he settles down between them, he dips his hips and pushes into you. His hard-on grinds your body, rubbing your slit through your clothes. 

He pushes a hand into the couch beside your head, lifting his body up just enough to stare down at you as he snakes his hand in between you and grabs hold of the waist of your sweatpants. In one strong movement, without you even lifting a muscle, he yanks them all the way down to your knees. His eyes, narrowed, hold firmly onto yours as his hand moves to the front of your underwear and slowly shove inside. 

You’re soaking wet. He smiles and swipes his index and middle finger through the mess before pressing them in. You can’t help but arch your back in pleasure. 

“Matthew,” you accidentally whisper his name. 

“You still taste delicious?” he asks as you dig your nails into his scalp and he pulls his fingers out of you. You watch his long tongue slip from between his lips and lip the juices off his fingertips. He smiles again. “God, I missed how you taste.” 

You pull yourself up and tug his pants down over his muscular butt. He roughly pushes you back down into the couch and shoves your shirt up to your neck. You’re not wearing a bra, which is good because he probably would’ve just ripped it off. He goes right for your nipple, swirling his tongue around it twice before nipping it hard. As he moves to assault the other nipple, his hand moves into his underwear and he frees his hard, thick cock. 

Your body isn’t used to him anymore. But you want him so badly, you don’t care. He pushes into you and you make a sound you can’t even begin to decipher at that moment and fight to keep your eyes open. His eyes roll back into his head and his cheeks begin to flush. You bend your knees on either side of his hips and squeeze your pussy hard. You’re determined to make him struggle more than any fucking hockey game. 

He whimpers. Literally fucking whimpers. 

“Don’t,” he warms. “I won’t hold on.” 

You squeeze down hard again as he swings hard into your hips, his balls slapping your ass. The vein in his neck throbs and you can see the fire in his eyes. 

“Y/N. Fuck. No,” he demands. He drops his whole body onto you. It’s like being hit with a two-hundred-pound sand bag. The air whooshes out of your lungs. He curls his face into your neck, just below your ear. “Baby, please.” 

The emotion in his plea–the fact that he’s begging at all– forces the air out of your lungs again. 

“I’ve missed this. I need you. Please.” 

You relax your core and gently wrap your arms around his back. Holding him to you, you kiss his shoulder and slowly rock your hips. He exhales loudly, a mix of pleasure and relief, and matches his thrusts to your rhythm. Your eyes flutter close as you concentrate on the perfect way he fills you up. He remembers exactly how to tilt his hips, exactly where you like it. 

“Again. Harder,” you demand. 

He does it again. Harder. You can’t catch your breath. Your pussy quivers. He’s on one elbow now and his eyes are wide open. They’re filled with lust and love. That has to be love. Because you love him. 

He looks down between the two of you. “Let me make you come. Please. I want to make you…” 

He pushes his cock deep and hard into you and grinds his pelvis into your clit. Keeping himself pressed right against you, he starts hammering with short and hard thrusts. The friction is both too much and not enough. You arch your back and rub yourself into his pubic bone. Your fingers claw at his back as the orgasm ripples through you. 

“Matthew,” his name slips from your lips once again in a ragged whisper. “Oh god, yes.” 

He pushes harder until your head bumps the arm of the couch accidentally. Then he pulls himself up and with one more thrust, he swears at the top of his lungs and explodes inside of you. He seems to come forever, his body jerking and his hips twitching as he collapses on top of you. 

Half an hour passes and you don’t move. You keep your arms around his back but snake your fingers up to run them through his curls. 

“I just can’t believe I lost. I really, truly lost,” he whispers finally. 

“It’s not the end of your hockey career. You guys will win again,” you advise him. 

He lifts his head. His eyes are confused. “I wasn’t talking about hockey. I’m talking about us.” 

You take a deep breath to make room for the swell of your heart roaring back to life in your chest. 

“Concentrate on getting your team to win next year,” you tell him as you traces his lips with your finger. “Because that’s the only thing you’ve lost.” 

You reach up to pull him in for another kiss.

#matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #calgary flames fic #calgary flames imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic

[thomasschabot]

Ok like a part 2 where matthew finds out that you know

a little shortie guy to wrap everything up 💛

welcome to c's deli :))

Matthew knows it was only a matter of time before you found out. 

He’s been taking back roads and sneaking out past bedtime for too many years for it not to catch up with him. No emotions flare when Brady’s contact photo takes over his screen, indicating a phone call instead of the regular text, and he’s already ushering her out the door and into the car before he accepts the call. 

“Dude, she knows.”

There’s a panic in Brady’s voice that hasn’t been there in all the other times he and Emma have helped cover the tracks of Matthew’s affair. He knows his long-term girlfriend knows he’s been unfaithful for a long time, yet still can’t bring himself to really care. 

“I’m already in the car,” Matthew sighs, pulling out into traffic and going the opposite way so his flashy sports car won’t meet your practical crossover while making the getaway. “She won’t even see us.”

The youngest Tkachuk brother is quiet for a moment before speaking again. “If I were you I’d make sure of it because she’s on the warpath.”

Matthew grunts and hangs up, then goes silent. His other girlfriend knows enough not to speak, familiar to the determination etched on his features from one too many close calls, and Matthew focuses on  getting out of this end of city without being noticed. He knows what roads to take and what parking lots to pull into to evade detection, does so with ease. The car pulls into the apartment complex that’s become his third home over the years, and Matthew’s quiet as doors are opened and closed and keys are placed into locks. 

He waits for you to call, text, show up because you forced the address out of his mom — nothing happens. Nothing at all. It’s radio silence for days, and that’s when Matthew realizes you don’t care about closure, will make it for yourself, and that you’re never coming back. 

place and order here x

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[huggybug]

Would you please write one with either Matthew Tkachuk or Tyson Jost where you get in a fight and you try to leave the house but he won’t let you, like “I know we’re fighting but I need to know you’re safe” 🥺 thanks!

her crazy’s beautiful to me - matthew tkachuk

word count: 1.5k words

it’s my first fic back! who’s excited? me! title from beautiful crazy by luke combs because i was listening to it and i started thinking about matthew so then i came to write this:) anywho.. please enjoy and (as always) feedback is greatly appreciated

“You can’t just expect to get away with this Matthew!” You groaned in frustration.

“I’m not trying to get away with anything!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air.

“You’re telling me you didn’t hang around a group of girls all night when you were in LA?” You ask, looking him dead in the eye.

You knew that he did. You saw the pictures that were all over social media. How could you not? You family and friends were all sending them to you, to make sure you saw exactly what your boyfriend was up to on the last stop of their road trip.

There weren’t exactly incriminating. He was sitting at a table with Johnny and a couple other guys, the girls were standing next to the table, leaning in a little too close for your liking but ultimately, they weren’t doing anything wrong.

“Babe, seriously ask any of the guys. I didn’t do anything” He tried to defend himself.

“I don’t want to ask the guys Matthew! I don’t want to ever be in a position where I have to ask someone whether my boyfriend cheated on me or not” You were done. He had been defending himself ever since he got home last night and you were able to escape it today, you went for a workout and then a facial before going grocery shopping, anything that kept you out of the house and away from Matthew.

It was a preventative measure. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As frustrating as this situation was, you were sure that it wasn’t something to end your three year relationship over but at the same time, you weren’t ready to kiss and make up.

There was a lot of things you wanted to say… more specifically yell but you were holding back. You knew that if you did that, Matthew would come right back at you. It was the one thing you loved and hated about your relationship. You and Matthew were just like on another; overly emotional and hot headed at your worst times.

Your friends said it was a recipe for disaster. That two people who were so alike would never work together, that you’d end up ripping each other apart within weeks but you didn’t. Your relationship was incredibly healthy and it always has been. Then again, you’ve never seen pictures of him surrounded by girls in a club before.

“I was with all the married guys, if I was planning on picking up girls, why wouldn’t I be with the single guys?” It was a fair point, convincing even but you didn’t want to think about that. Your emotions were building up and you were about to explode at him.

“I don’t want to think about this anymore, I have to get out of here”

“Please just let me explain” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t want to hear it Matthew”

“But-”

“No! Just get out of my way” You huff, trying to move past him but he’s body blocking the door.

“Hey, I know you’re mad at me but I need to know you’re safe” His eyes are wide, staring at you and you can feel your resolve start to dissolve. “Please don’t go”

“Matt…” You said softly.

“Don’t run away… go to our room or I’ll go and you can stay out here. I’ll give you safe, just… please don’t leave, I need you to be safe” You looked past him to look out the window. Calgary winters were no joke, the snow was coming down hard and you knew you wouldn’t get far in your car anyways.

“Fine just… give me some time” You turned and stalked off to your bedroom, closing the door behind you and dropping down onto your bed.

…

Three hours. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the wall for three hours. You thought about a lot. About Matt, about you, and finally about your relationship.

You were leaving the room with a very different mindset than what you entered it with. It was quiet in the apartment when you walked down the hall. The living room was dark, there was only a small lamp on which made you barely able to make out your boyfriend who was sitting on the couch, head in his hands as his elbows dug into his thighs.

“Matthew?” You mumbled, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you’d anticipated. His head shot up as you flipped another lamp on so that you could see a bit better.

“Hey” His voice was rough, he cleared his throat and you finally met his eyes. They were red and a little swollen. He had been crying.

You took a deep breath before sitting next to him, leaving a decent amount of space between you two. “I was ready to leave” You let out with a breath and you could feel him freeze beside you. “When I walked into that room, I was ready to start packing my stuff and go”

“And? Why didn’t you?” He was avoiding eye contact but you could hear the quiver in his voice.

“Because I realized how stupid it would be. I realized that I love you too damn much to pack up and leave” You sighed. “Do you know how I felt when everyone we know was sending me those pictures? Sure, they weren’t exactly bad but still… do you understand how that made me feel? I was so embarrassed Matt! Embarrassed that first of all, you were out doing god knows what while you’re on a trip for work and secondly, that everyone seemed to know about it”

“I know… fuck! I’m so sorry, I know it was shitty and I wish I could’ve told you before those pictures came out but I seriously didn’t think it was a big deal. Those girls… they just came over and they weren’t even there for five minutes, I swear!”

“I just feel betrayed. Maybe I’m being dramatic, I don’t know. I just don’t like it, I hate how I feel about you right now and I hate that I can’t stop picture you in that club with those girls” You thought you had figured out how you felt back in your bedroom but suddenly, talking to Matt has brought even more feelings up for you and now you’re stuck trying to work through them in front of him.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it” He looked up at you and your heart sunk at the sight of him. He looked absolutely wrecked. “I swear, I’ll do anything. I can’t lose you”

You knew he was looking for an answer but you weren’t sure what to say. “I don’t want you to have to do something for me to stay”

“Then what do you want!” He raised his voice and you shrunk back. “I’m sorry” He ran his hands over his face.

“No, I deserve it” You were being unfair, you knew that. “I just want to go back to normal, I want to be okay with you going out to bars when I’m not there because I’m being ridiculous right now and if you say nothing happened, I want to believe you”

“You’re not being ridiculous” He said quietly.

“Yes I am!” You groaned. “And you shouldn’t have to try and make me feel better when I’m being crazy”

“Stop” Matthew reached for your hands hesitantly, taking one in both of his. “You saw a picture of me in a bar with a group of girls with no context, you didn’t know what was happening. You have every right to freak out”

You could feel tears falling from your eyes which made you want to laugh. “You… you are too understanding, Matthew Tkachuk”

He smiled softly. You took a deep breath in attempts to focus your thoughts.

“I don’t want to leave”

“Good” He affirmed.

“I trust that nothing happened. I trust you” You felt vulnerable just saying it, like he could use it to his advantage somehow, as if he would ever do that.

“Thank you” He said cautiously. “I love you and I promise, if anything did happen, I would have told you” You believed him. It’s not like he’s ever given you a reason not to.

“I love you Matt, so much and I’m sorry that I flipped out” You sincerely apologized but he just shook his head.

“You always have every right to freak out on me okay? I know I might mess up on dumb stuff like forgetting anniversaries or something but I promise you, I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship”

“I know” You nodded, pressing your forehead against his as he leaned in. “Thank you”

He chuckled. “For what?”

“For understanding. For not letting me leave. For being the worlds greatest boyfriend to a crazy lady. Pick one” You say and he laughs.

“I’m lucky to call you my crazy lady”

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