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#like matty how did you know that this was an option? who did you ask and they were like ‘just go to the HHOF archives and ask’ ????

heygerald · 5 months

Text

HEART MECHANICS - PART 9/9

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OFC

Matty faces a lot of things. Including herself, her dad, her issues, her friends, and, oh yeah, the pilot who left her without saying goodbye.

Now's the time to be an adult, to face things head on, and to accept the fact that she's not always right. Actually, she's rarely right. And a rule against who she can and can't have feelings for?

Well, that's actually total fucking bullshit. Who knew?

Read the story here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / ...

Two sandwiches and a large cup of water later and Matty found that Frank was probably onto something about her hunger. She felt considerably better after eating, and the pounding behind her eyes seemed to dissipate with each sip of water that she swallowed. Her hands were less shaky now that she hadn’t had a cigarette since dinner the night before, and after she had washed up she found that the damage from Nick's mishap had been nothing other than a small bump on the knuckle.

It was totally possible that she had overreacted a bit.

Or, you know, a lot.

She tended to do that when sleep deprived, hungry, and in a pissy fucking mood.

Ouch. Being her friend must totally fucking suck.

“You want to tell me why Frank just dropped you at the end of my driveway?” Rick asked over the game of checkers that they were playing. Chess had always been Hollywood’s favorite; he bragged about how the other pilots were awful when it came to any sort of game involving mental capacity, and while he had played his fair share of pool, darts, and volleyball as a younger cadet, since she was around, Hollywood had settled into a more skillful sort of sport. One that she sucked at. Hence why they were currently playing checkers, rather than chess. “Not that I’m not happy you’re here, kid, but you never come to visit just to visit.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Christmas doesn’t count.”

Matty paused, thinking, before she jumped one of his red checkers. “I’ve been busy.”

“Sure.”

“I have.”

He raised a palm as if surrendering, but she knew that he didn’t believe that bullshit of an excuse. Not that she blamed him. It was a bullshit of an excuse. Rick may have spent her early years traveling, but for the last decade he and her mother had been settled down not two hours from the base. His work trips were far and few inbetween. Yet, she was more likely to travel to Ice’s than to his. When they did spend time together it was at some backyard celebration with a whole group of people; never just the two of them.

She had never sat down to wonder why that was, and now that the dilemma was being plated right under her nose, Matty found she didn’t like the options presented. She moved on with a sniff.

“I yelled at Nick,” she admitted when he hopped two of her pieces. He piqued a brow, not saying anything, and she relaxed onto her chair with a sigh. “And Booms, and George, and… pretty much everyone else too.”

“That’s nothing new.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks,” she deadpanned.

Rick shrugged as he finished the last sip of his coffee. The house was unusually calm for that time of afternoon, and even the dogs seemed to be slumbering peacefully in the corner. It was odd to step into. Growing up, she felt like home was always chaotic and rambunctious. It was her mother nagging, and her father sneaking off to drink in the garage, and her sisters always picking fights with each other about anything and everything.

Well, maybe it was a little bit of her picking fights with her sisters, and her purposely doing things wrong so that her mother would end up having to do them right, and—oh yeah—there was a handful of times that she had gotten into her father’s booze cabinet when he wasn’t home.

Huh. Maybe the ratio of calm in the house was directly related to her presence in the house.

What a fucking drag.

“What were you yelling about?” he dragged her from the self-spiraling.

“Nothing important.”

“Ah,” he nodded, understanding, and she both hated and loved the fact that her father had no qualms with her tendency to be a bitch. To, well, everyone. All the time. Her mother had never gotten used to the quick barbs, and her sisters got riled up anytime she said anything snarky. Then again, Tabitha was just as much of a bitch as she was. Rick may have wanted daughters, but sometimes Matty wondered if they were more than he had asked for. At least Rosie was quiet natured and easy to get along with. “Why?”

“I just told you,” she shrugged, moving her pieces at random now. “It’s nothing important. Nick squished my fingers today, which totally fucking hurt, so that was probably a reasonable enough reaction. But, you know, it’s been other stuff which doesn’t actually matter. Booms being too loud, Claire coming in late, Frank drinking the last of the coffee.”

“That’s not what I asked, kiddo.”

“Sure it is,” she rolled her eyes with a vague hand wave. “You asked why, I just told you. Bing, bang, boom. Let’s move on. You think Mom will cook steaks for dinner?”

“Matty,” he clipped.

A warning and a plea all in one.

God, she hated when he did that.

“Dad.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re avoiding the game,” she shot back, gesturing to the half empty board. Just to disprove her point he moved one of his pieces, and just to avoid his question, she moved one just as quickly. It was a totally illegal move, but Rick didn’t seem to care. “Come on, seriously? Have you and Frank started secretly listening to Oprah or something? We don’t have to get into this.”

“He dropped you on my driveway.”

“A total dick move, by the way. I don’t have anything with me. If you weren’t here I could have been kidnapped or chased by a rapid dog or something. He does know that women are very vulnerable members of the population, doesn’t he?”

“I’ve seen you scare off rabid dogs before. I don’t think that’s an issue.”

“Okay, well, what about—like—the weather? Could have frozen to death.”

“It’s eighty degrees out,” he deadpanned.

“Heat stroke, then.”

“Matilda—”

“Oh, Jesus!” she groaned, throwing herself out of her chair with a frustrated cry. Rick didn’t use her full name often, but when he did, it was because she was so far up shit’s creek that a motor engine wouldn’t even be of any help. A ridiculous notion that she was somehow in trouble with her father for her behavior at work when she was a fully functioning grown ass woman. She didn’t need his approval or his advice about her personal life. “Dad, I’m so not doing this with you.”

“Too fucking bad, kid. Now, sit down. We’re doing this.”

“Sit down? Seriously? You’re not my principle and I’m not in trouble and I am more than able to walk out that front door and—”

“Matilda.”

Matty folded right back into her chair without a single word. There was a huff, though. Actually, there were quite a few huffs that seemed loud enough to rouse the dogs. They glanced at her with weary eyes as if they hadn’t known her for their entire lives. Dodger, a Bernese as big as she was, even left the room.

Coward.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

Rick sighed. It had been a while since they had sat through one of these interventions, and she wondered if her dad had forgotten how much work fathering a daughter could be. There was a creak as he moved towards the bar cart on the other side of the room. There was some clinking as Rick poured himself a fifth of scotch—she really hoped that her mother didn’t come home any time soon, she would be pissed to find that Matty had Rick drinking this early in the day—and he took a long sip before asking, “is this about Ice?”

Her godfather’s name had her drawing up short with a bristle. “No,” she snapped, and when he cast her a disbelieving look in response, she took time to tamper down some of her attitude. She repeated herself in a calmer tone. “It’s not. I promise. It’s… it’s stupid.”

“So you do know what’s wrong.”

Matty rolled her eyes. People always thought that she got her attitude from her nowhere; suspected that it had just been endowed by the luck of the draw. In reality, she had gotten her silver tongue and sharp wit from Hollywood himself. She hated how much she was like him in moments like this. It made it hard to get anything done.

“What does it matter?” she pouted, drawing her feet up beneath her, the checkers completely forgotten. She was losing, anyway. Rick drifted through the room slowly, surveying the picture frames that dotted the walls as Matty started fiddling with a small model plane that had been sitting on the table. “It’s not a big deal, alright. I’ll apologize to everyone, buy them some beer, and all will be forgotten. We’ll move on—as we always do when I’m a bitch.”

“You can’t ignore the root of the problem. That’s how you end up in the emergency room with stomach pains that end up being appendicitis.”

“I was fourteen,” she whined. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Are you ever going to learn from it?”

She mimicked him. Not her best moment, but certainly not the worst. Rick just responded with a baleful glare and a deep sigh as he finally returned to his seat. “Are you pregnant?” he asked, and Matty actually choked on her own saliva at the question.

“What? No! Why would you even ask that! Christ, Dad! Is that why you didn't offer me anything to drink?”

He held up his palms. “Hey, it’s not exactly a question I want the answer to any time soon. I just had to ask,” he defended. Then, after a moment, muttered, “thank god for that.”

“Um, excuse me?”

“Look, I love you, but I do not intend on being a grandfather anytime soon. God knows raising you three was enough of a challenge. And your sister is still in college. I’d like to have a few good years of peace before the thought of changing more diapers comes into the equation.”

“I’ll make sure to let my gyno know that I need to stay on the pill for a few more years,” she deadpanned. He winced at the word gyno, and she rolled her eyes. Honestly, how could he have three daughters and still get uncomfortable about feminine issues? “I’m not pregnant so you can calm down, Dad. I think I’d need a boyfriend first and fuck knows how that’s going.”

His gaze sharpened. “Ah.”

Matty paused in her fiddling. “What?”

“This is about the kid, then.”

“No—no this is not about the kid. I—why does everyone keep saying that?” she asked in a huff, throwing her hands up so quickly that she nearly knocked over a lamp. Matty managed to fix it as it wobbled back and forth on the table, thankfully, but when she turned back towards her she almost wished she had just for a reason to leave the room.

“Did he… do something?”

“You mean did he make me a ruined woman? No, Dad, this isn’t the fourteenth century.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you have to make every conversation so goddamn difficult, Matilda?”

“For comedic purposes, obviously,” she snarked. He didn’t seem amused, and, for once, Matty didn’t feel all that proud of being a sarcastic bitch. Maybe that’s why she decided to give up the act with a sigh. Or maybe it’s because, after so many accusations, she actually did want to talk to someone about it. “He got sent out on a mission.”

“The one with Mav?”

“Yeah.”

“You knew he would.”

“Well yeah, but it's—you know—dangerous.”

“And you knew that the mission was dangerous.”

“Yes, but—”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“What do you mean what’s the problem? He got sent out last minute on a very dangerous mission that he could almost certainly die on! How is that not a problem?” she asked. “He wasn’t supposed to leave until this weekend. We were gonna spend more time together and then, out of the blue, he shipped out at the crack of dawn without so much as a warning. Not a text, not a call, not even a courtesy email. I had to find out about it from Boomer for chrissake! I’ll never live that down.”

Her raised tone seemed to startle Skiff from the nap he had fallen back into. The lab gave her a disgruntled look, stood from his bed, stretched, and went in the same direction that Dodger had gone.

“It’s the job,” was all her father said.

No shit it was the job. She knew that. She had seen that all her life with her father; he would pack up and ship out with barely any notice. He had missed important life events; birthdays, holidays, school recitals all because it was his duty to go. Ice had too. And Mav. It was just what they did, it was what they signed up for.

“I know that,” she clarified with a glare. “Obviously, it’s the job. Whatever.”

Whatever.

It clearly wasn’t whatever, and they both knew it.

“I guess I was just not expecting it, you know. To—to, like, feel so… sad, or whatever,” she huffed, waving her hands around again. Her finger throbbed a little when she smacked it onto the lamp—again—and this time Matty let the light fixture wobble back and forth without saving it. It was ugly anyway. “I mean, not sad. It’s not like this is the forties and he’s going to war. He’s coming back. If things go well, anyway. Which, then of course, what if things don’t go well and what if he… I—I don’t know what I’m saying. You get the idea. Or, maybe you don’t, whatever, it’s just so stupid that we’re even talking about this right now.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Everything about this is stupid. Why am I being all pouty and miserable when I’m not the one that got sent out? Why haven’t I pooped in two days? Is this some weird reverse pregnancy sympathy? Can that happen?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “I think you’re just worried about him.”

She blew a raspberry, returning her attention to the model plan. She never understood why her father had the patience to sit around and glue tiny little pieces of metal together when he could, quite literally, go to the base and fly the real thing. “Worried, schmorried. Maybe Booms is right and I’m about to start my period. Sync ups are totally real, you know.”

He grimaced. She smirked. Then he said something that wiped the smirk off her face. “Well, now you know how your mom felt every time I was deployed. A little bit crazy, a little bit overwhelmed. Not to mention she had three little hellions to look after all on her own.”

She bristled at the implication that she had anything in common with her mother. Matty didn’t hate her mom by a long shot; she loved the woman. But they were too different to ever get along well, to ever be as close as some mothers and daughters were. To think that they ever had something in common was disgruntling.

And, just maybe, true.

Still, she argued. “It’s totally different. You and mom were married, in love, all over each other blah blah blah. Bradley’s just some guy I know. Barely know, if you really think about it. We’re just, you know… friends.”

“Sure.”

“We are.”

“Friends don’t look at each like you two did at the bar,” he said. There was no inflection in his voice, no room to argue. Rick just said it like he saw it. “He’s gone, and you’re worried about him, and you’re taking it out on everyone else. But you can’t do that, kid. Frank, Boom, George? They’re your friends too. And if they don’t know what you’re upset about, they’re going to take your behavior pretty fucking personal. Not to say they shouldn’t—we both know you can be mean when you try to be. But they sure as hell don’t deserve it.”

She waived in her seat. “I… I know. I didn’t mean to yell at them.”

“Hell, what does meaning matter when you still do it?” he chuckled with a sip of beer. She was starting to wish that he would offer her one as well, but Rick held firm. Just as well, she figured the last thing she needed right now was alcohol. “You really like him, huh?”

“No,” she said, so quickly he barely got the question out.

“You sure?”

“How can I be sure?” she spat with an annoyed eye roll. “We went on one date and, like I said, we’ve only known each other for barely over a month. That’s not even one percent of my life—probably. Isn’t there some sort of rule about this whole thing?”

Her dad laughed again while scooting closer to the checkerboard, studying it. “Don’t think love is one of those things that has rules,” he told her. When she remained resolutely silent he added, “when I first met your mom, I was head over heels in moments. She, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so taken with me. Took months to get her on a date, actually. Ice and Sarah? They were all over each other the moment they locked eyes. Tabitha and Chase knew each other for six years before they started dating.”

Matty scrunched up her nose. “Chase? Who the hell is Chase?”

“Her boyfriend.”

“What? Since when does Tabitha have a boyfriend?” she cried. There was something so unsettling about the idea of her sister dating someone when Matty couldn’t even commit to a brita. I mean, who wants to change the filter every month? That was totally unreasonable.

“The point is,” he continued, ignoring her protests, “there are no rules when it comes to forming connections with people. Sometimes you meet someone who understands you the second you meet.”

“He didn’t even know my last name until three weeks ago,” she deadpanned.

“And yet he stuck around to find out, and then stuck around even after finding out. That's the kind of person you want to keep around; not the ones that find it easy to know you, but the ones that take the time to learn about you,” he added with another sip of his beer before reaching forward to hop three of her pieces in a single go. “Why are you being so hard on him? Is it because you don’t like him, or is it because you’re so goddamn stubborn that you don’t want to admit that you finally found someone you do like, and he just so happens to be a pilot?”

Her scowl was instant. “I’m not sure I like this supportive side of you. Too much smugness can kill you, you know?”

Rich grinned. “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, I’m not sure I know what is. Now,” he waved at her across the board. “You want to tell me what you did to scare Frank off? I was hoping he would have stuck around for a beer.”

Matty tossed a plait of blonde hair over her shoulder with a grimace. “Ugh. You two are so gross. Just have an affair and run off together or something, you’re driving the rest of us crazy with all the suspense.”

Rick shook his head with a laugh as Matty finally turned her full attention to the game.

Yeah. She was definitely losing.

---

Matty stuck around at her parent’s house for the entire weekend. It was the longest she had stayed with them alone since she was a teenager, and though it felt a little weird, it was also exactly what she needed to get her head on straight. Frank returned to pick her up Sunday at five on the dot. She was pretty sure that he had planned that so he could be invited in for dinner (much to her mother’s chagrin), but she found she couldn’t complain about it. It was nice seeing her father and her best friend get along so well, even if it meant most of their ribbing was about her.

They left shortly after eating in far better moods than they arrived, and though they didn’t talk much on the return drive home, Matty didn’t mind. After a week of being run down by every single emotion she could think of, singing to the radio with Frank was a good way to decompress. Besides, she really did need to work on knowing not to talk shit.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she said anyway when they were ten minutes from her house. Afterall, she could always work on her attitude tomorrow. Frank arched a brow at her sideways, and she continued, “you literally abandoned me at my parent’s house. Not cool, Frankie. Not cool.”

He grunted. “I thought you were gonna bite my head off.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do when kidnapped. The police say you should use everything to your advantage. That includes my sharp, pointy teeth,” she said matter-of-factly, peeling her lips back to clack her jaw together like a shark.

Despite his unamused stare, Matty caught the tail-end of a smile curving his lips. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

“Bastard.”

He pulled into her driveway with a smile that she returned. The truck was in park for only a moment before Matty flung herself at him. He froze—as if worried she was actually going to bite him—only to relax when she full-heartedly clung to him. “Thank you,” she muttered. Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt as well as the radio. Still, he heard her. “I’m sorry for being awful.”

Frank patted her back. “You’re always awful.”

“And yet you’re still my friend.”

“Yeah, well,” he joked when she pulled back an inch. “I’m waitin’ to hear back from a couple other blondes around the area, so you’re a good place holder.”

Matty’s smile turned into a glare. “Ugh,” she groaned, detangling herself from him with as many sharp knees and elbows as she could manage. She didn’t bother climbing back into the passenger’s seat but instead popped open his door and clambered out that way. There was a grunt when she managed to knee him in between the legs, and that left her feeling better about the situation. By the time that Matty swung the door shut, she was all sickly sweet smiles again. “I love you.”

Frank responded by giving her the finger.

She cackled as he peeled down the street.

---

The week passed quicker than the previous. There were a lot of repairs to get done in a very short amount of time, so even if she had wanted to stew on unresolved feelings, she didn’t get a chance.

When she did have the time, the first moment to relax after five long days of work, she found herself striding across an over-crowded parking lot at the Hard Deck. Apologizing to the others hadn’t been as easy of a win as it had been to Frank. While George and Nick were able to soothe their ruffled feathers with a simple apology, Boomer hadn’t been so forgiving. It hadn’t mattered how sincere she was or how many times she brought donuts in for the crew—donuts that Eggs seemed to scarf down despite the fact that he had been on vacation the previous week and hadn’t even been there during her tyrannical parade—Booms still didn’t want to talk to her. It had taken her promising to buy the entire crew drinks at the bar for him to soften, and even then, he still seemed a bit upset. Eggs and Claire promised to cool him off before their evening out, however, and while she trusted them, Matty found herself a little bit worried that the evening wouldn’t go as smoothly as she wanted it too.

Hence why she was showing up to the bar thirty minutes early.

Or, well, okay, if you were going to be technical about it, Matty didn’t show up early as much as she did show up on time, but for her, that was early. Practically unheard of, actually. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten to one of their group outings just as it was starting. It was definitely her fault. Either she would forget to do her laundry ahead of time or she spent too long in the shower or she—on two separate occasions—would have had to spend twenty minutes searching for her phone only to find that it had been in her back pocket the whole time. But today she had prepared for all possible situations. That included not even taking her phone inside her house. Instead, it had been stuffed inside her glove compartment since lunch.

“No fuckin’ way,” Frank’s voice drawled from the parking lot. She turned to find him and Boomer exiting his truck with mutual looks of disbelief. “Did someone die?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not always late.”

“You were late at your own birth,” he deadpanned. Matty rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. Her mom had told the story of how she carried Matty for a week and a half past her due date before she finally decided to show up. Typical. “You look nice.”

Her tongue darted back into her mouth at the compliment, and she did a half-hearted spin in the parking lot with a laugh. She had paired a jean skirt with the new sparkly black top that Claire had gotten her for her birthday. Paired with some dangly earrings, a blow-out, and her favorite pink eyeshadow, Matty had to admit that she looked good.

“And you showered for once. Ooh-la-la. Who are you boys trying to impress?”

Frank muttered something unsavory under his breath, but Boomer’s response was more or less lacking. Matty’s smile dropped into a frown, and she quickly caught Frank’s eye. He didn’t say anything else; just knew what she was asking.

“I’ll find the others.”

Boomer went to move after him, but was held up when Matty grabbed him gently by the elbow. “Booms, please, can we talk?” she asked. Implored, really. It was actually so close to begging for her that if he had said no she likely would have cursed him out. But he didn’t say no, and together they formed a small huddle at the bottom of the stairs. “I was a total bitch, I was totally out of line, and I never should have yelled at you this week.”

He grunted. “You dumped my coffee out.”

“Trust me, no one understands how sinful that was better than I do,” she said. “I’ll buy you coffee all this week.”

“You kept referring to Hobart as hob-shart.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at that. Even when she was a bitch, at least a funny one. “That was wrong of me.”

“You said—” he started, pausing, then clearing his throat when his voice pitched to a girly decibel. “You said that Hugh Jackman is an awful actor.”

“Only because I’m jealous! He’s so good looking, with nice pearly whites,” she cried. “We both know that he deserves an Oscar for his performance as Wolverine in the x-men movies.”

Boomer sniffed. “And for the Greatest Showman.”

“The Greatest—? Yes, no, definitely,” she quickly corrected herself. “You like musicals. Of course you like musicals. That was an amazing film, and he deserved international accolades for it.” What she was saying seemed to wear down Boomer’s grouchiness, and slowly the tension in his shoulders receded. “Now, how about I buy a round of drinks? We could hustle some pilots at darts. That always makes you feel better.”

His head teetered back and forth a moment before, finally, she earned herself a smile. “Yeah, alright. Hustling some pilots would make me feel better.”

“See!” Matty exclaimed before planting a glossy kiss onto his cheek. That had him grinning properly, and he tossed an arm over her shoulder as they started towards the front door. “I bet we can round up some real losers. Wounding some pride always makes me feel better.”

“I could definitely think of a few fellas that would pony up some money.”

“Too bad Hangman isn’t here. I would love to make him buy me another blowjob shot.”

Whatever she said seemed to amuse Boomer greatly, and she shot him a winning smile as they stepped into the bar. She was surprised to find that it was packed wall to wall already. For it only being seven, that was practically unheard of.

“Jesus, what’s all the fuss about?” she wondered as Boomer steered her towards the bar.

“What’s it ever about?” he joked. She thought about that, and before he even gave the answer, she already knew what it was. “Pilots.”

“Fucking pilots.” Matty rolled her eyes with an over exaggerated raspberry. “We can definitely find some suckers to hustle tonight then. What do you want to drink?”

“Your choice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. There was something sly and unsettling about his grin, and Matty narrowed her eyes at him when he dropped his arm off her shoulder. He spotted Frank at a table towards the back. Claire and Eggs were already there, and, if she had to guess, Nick and George wouldn’t be far behind. “I’ll be with the others. Try not to get too distracted before you deliver the coldies, yeah?”

He disappeared before she could give a response. “Why would I get distracted?” she asked no one in particular. Of course, there was no one to answer that question, and so Matty let it go with a shrug. Australians—she would never really understand them. Something else she didn’t understand was how packed the place was. It took more than a few elbows to get to the bar, and even then, it took five minutes before Penny arrived.

At least she had a smile on.

“Service with a smile usually counts for more when I’m not waiting forever, you know,” Matty jibed. “I think I can feel the dementia settling in as we speak.'

Penny laughed, completely unbothered by the attitude. “I’m just happy you didn’t come across the counter yourself.”

“Wow, you’re in a good mood,” Matty said. “Haven’t seen you smile that big since you won that thirty pound turkey in the Thanksgiving raffle last year. Should I be worried about going bankrupt tonight?”

Penny tossed a dish towel over her shoulder with a fond eye roll. “Funny as always, Mats,” she drawled. But, if the smile that stretched back onto her face was anything to go by, she clearly wasn’t that bothered by the jab. “What can I get you?”

“Seven beers.”

An odd look appeared in Penny’s eye, but she began lining up some glasses anyway. “Crew night?”

“Uh, duh, Pen. It is Friday.”

“Well, sure,” the woman said with a huff when the glasses clinked together. Matty pointed to the tap closest to her, and inched a little bit closer across the bar to hear better. “But I thought you would be joining in with everyone else tonight, too. Not just the crew, anyway. Unless you still really do have problems with the pilots.”

Matty furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

Penny laughed as if Matty had made a joke, but when she caught the confused look on her face, she slowly let go of the tap handle. “I thought you would have heard.”

“Heard what?”

“They’re… back.”

“Back?” Matty echoed, shaking some hair over her shoulder, uncomprehendingly. “Who’s back?”

Penny didn’t give her an answer other than to glance around the crowded bar. Matty followed her line of sight slowly, looking for the gag to whatever joke this was, but that line of thinking went out the back door when she started picking up on some of the faces in the crowd. Faces that were smiling, laughing, and having the time of their lives as if they had just gotten back from a successful mission.

She didn’t know what to say, so she settled on the classic.

“Son of a bitch.”

Penny’s grin faltered at the reaction. “I’ll get some shot glasses,” she said, as if not knowing what else to say, and Matty didn’t try to stop her as she disappeared around the other side of the bar. Shots sounded pretty good right now.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed when Penny returned with two shot glasses and a bottle of something brown. She poured them quickly, not bothering to keep the bar top dry, and when she moved them towards Matty the blonde downed them both in succession without blinking.

“Fuck,” she hissed, wiping her mouth, completely forgetting about the lip gloss. “That burns.”

Penny held up the bottle with a smirk. Bourbon.

“Ew, Jesus, I thought that was tequila.”

“Oh no,” she wagged a finger at Matty, before returning to her earlier job of filling up the beer glasses. “I know you and tequila, Matty, and you do not need tequila right now. Last thing I need is for you to start some trouble in my bar.”

“I—I’m not going to start any trouble!”

“You have that look.”

“Look? What look!”

Penny set down a full glass of beer only to pick up another one. But the look she gave Matty was telling; a lot like a nun shaming a rambunctious toddler. “Like you’re going to do something stupid, but you don’t know what. I don’t need that tonight. No ma’am.”

“Uh—ugh!” she tossed her hair, huffing like a bull. It was an absurd idea that all Matty did was cause trouble at the bar; worse even that tequila and her didn’t mix well. Matty happened to love herself on tequila. It made her fun, fearless, and—well, okay, maybe a little bit more likely to punch someone—but that was just a quirk. “Just give me a shot of tequila. Please?”

Penny arched a brow, arms crossed. “Just one?”

Someone pressed up behind her, an elbow stretching smoothly onto the bar top, and Matty was just about to mentally prepare herself to ruin some poor pilot’s night, when the cadence of a warm voice spoke over the music to say, “actually, make it two.”

Penny’s eyes sparkled as she disappeared to the other side of the bar. Matty watched her go, frozen almost. A ridiculous notion that some guy hitting on her at the bar could have her freeze up—she was Matty Neven, afterall, and she didn’t just let some handsome pilots smooth talk their way into her pants—and with that particular mindset she tossed some hair over her should with a shrewd glare.

“I don’t let pilots buy me drinks,” she told him.

His lips curved into a smile, and she took a moment to give him a good look over. He was dressed a lot like the first night that they had met. A cotton button down that was open just enough that she could make out the hard lines of his collarbones, snug dark jeans that fit in all the right areas, and a pair of boots. Not military issued, but nice ones. The type that would bend very little if she tried to stomp on his toes, and that would hurt a whole lot if they kicked her in the shins. Around his neck dangled some familiar dog tags, and next to them was a pair of Ray Ban aviators that were probably sold out of the store from how many other pilots had the same ones. His hair was gelled just enough to let some loose curls dangle onto his forehead, and although his cheek was marred with a few healing cuts, he looked good.

Really good.

And—hell—if that wasn’t the problem.

“What do you have against pilots?” he asked.

Matty popped a hip as she sank her elbow onto the bar. They were facing each other now, and even though she was a tall girl, she still had to tilt her head back to meet his stare-down fully. She doubted the sparkly lip gloss helped her to look intimidating.

She hoped the sharp tone of her voice would be enough. “Well, they’re annoying—”

“Ouch.”

“Egotistical, selfish—”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Big-headed, stupid, and more often than not, they’re liars.”

He hummed, taking in her insults with nothing more than the melodramatic furrow of his brow, and Matty felt her glare waver slightly. She stuck her nose out further with the simple remind that—hello—he was a pilot for fuck’s sake.

“That’s harsh,” he noted. He leant further onto the bar so that they were only an inch apart, and her breath hitched against her will. “And how do you know that I’m a pilot?”

“Please,” she scoffed before snagging his dog tags with a chipped nail. “The only people that wear aviators anymore are fifty years old who want to feel young again and pilots. Not to mention the fact that I know everyone in this bar.”

He tsk-ed, but it didn’t stop the smile that was slowly inching across his mouth. It drove her up a wall. Not because she wanted to kiss that stupid perfect little mouth but, because—well—she couldn’t really think of a reason at the moment, but Matty was sure that one existed.

“You know everyone here? You must be a big deal or something to be that popular.”

She nodded, coming back into herself a little bit, and let his dog tags go with a shake of the head. Tendrils of hair went cascading over her shoulders. She tried to draw some confidence from that. She was an independent bitch boss of a woman who didn’t need anything from anyone.

Particularly not a pilot.

“Yeah. Actually, yes I am,” she started, crossing one arm over the other. Then, when that felt a little too weird she untucked her arms so that she could start waving them around wildly as if to prove her point. She almost smacked someone walking by in the head in doing so, but didn’t let that stop her. If some idiot with glasses got smacked in the head it was his fault for wandering too close. “I am a big fucking deal and I have plenty of men that throw themselves at me every single night. Case and point the fact that I’m a ten out of ten, eleven if we’re being honest, and all these other losers have been giving me eyes since I walked in here—which is crazy, really, if you think about it, because the only guy that I actually want to have attention from decided to just leave without saying goodbye. Not a text or a call or anything!”

“What an asshole,” he drawled.

“A total asshole! And now, even worse, I got all dressed up and am standing here looking like this and he still won’t just take the fucking hint and—”

Bradley kissed her before she could say anything else.

Thank god for that, too, because she wasn’t sure she had anything else to say, and her self-control seemed to be at an all time low, but Matty would be damned if she had given in first.

He kissed her like his life depended on it, like it was the only thing that he had wanted to do since he met her all those weeks ago in this exact same bar, on a Friday night just like this, packed like sardines by all the other pilots that she couldn’t really stand. Her arms swung around the back of his neck just as his clutched her waist. At first, he held her gently—almost like he was afraid she wasn’t real—but after a moment she felt his entire body relax, and his hands became firmer as they shifted to the base of her spine. It was a kiss just like after their date; warm, explosive, radioactive in the best ways possible that had her toes tingling and all the thoughts evaporating from her head. But it was also better than that. There was no holding back, no unspoken words.

Just him and her.

“Seriously, get a fucking room.”

Oh, and Hangman.

They pulled apart with heaving chests to find that their show had earned themselves quite the audience. Hangman was at the forefront, a beer in each hand, and while her first instinct was to break his delicate little nose that she always thought looked a bit too much like it had been bought with daddy’s money, Bradley surprised her by just laughing.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist just because I beat you to the girl,” he said.

Hangman scowled. But then his mouth did this weird thing and it actually turned up into a smile. Not a smirk, but a real, god-honest smile. “Yeah, well, it’s the only time you’ll ever actually beat me at something, Bradshaw, so you better savor it.”

“Um, excuse me,” Matty chirped, drawing his eyes. “Hi? Fuck off, won’t you?”

The group of pilots crowed in laughter at her barb, but Hangman didn’t take it all that personally. Rather, Mav was there shooing them all away before he could mange any sort of retaliation. “Alright, alright,” he said, waving the group off towards the pool tables. “That’s enough. Let’s give the kids some privacy, huh?”

“At least use protection!” Hangman jeered over the crowd as he was shoved away.

Mav smacked him over the back of the head just as they disappeared into the sea of people.

And suddenly, just like that, it was her and Bradley.

Bradley, who was staring at her with stars in her eyes. “Hi,” he said.

Matty responded by promptly punching him in the chest. “You dick!”

“Hey,” he threw up his hands, laughing, when she just continued to swat at him. He caught her by the wrists, and when she tried to smack him a third time, he pointed out, “you kissed me.”

“I’m not upset about the kiss!” she exclaimed. Her hair went in every direction when she tossed her head at him, but rather than frighten him, the show only seemed to amuse him more. She supposed her pink eyeshadow was no less attractive to him as it had been the first time they met under these circumstances. Kismet, bismet. This was total bullshit. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving. Ass!”

“I know.”

"You promised that you wouldn't leave me behind. Remember that? The whole 'sitting out on a surfboard and bearing my soul to you' thing that we did? That wasn't a hallucination!"

Bradley sobered up beneath her barrage, and she was happy to note that he actually looked guilty in front of her. Granted, it was skewed a bit by his overall handsomeness. Still. "I promised I wouldn't leave and forget about you, Mats. And I didn't. I know I should have said something about leaving, but... our date went so well and I felt like I couldn't find a good time to bring it up and then..."

"Then?"

"I didn't want to, you know, be together our last night just because I was leaving."

"Be together?" she echoed, not quite catching on at first. When she did, her entire brain seemed to blank out. She hadn't thought about it like that. "Oh. You mean—"

"Yeah," he grimaced. "I wanted it to end like it did. With a kiss and a promise that I could take you back out on a second date. Not with me sneaking out first thing in the morning. Not that I would have! But, I just... didn't think I would go if you asked me to stay," he admitted with a long breath. His shoulders sank as if that truth physically deflated him.

She tried not to feel so bad for being so mad at him. Failed, then tried again by shoving a finger into his chest. "Well, you didn’t tell me you came back!”

“I know."

“And you could have been so totally hurt.”

“I know.”

“And—and—and I missed you!” she tacted on thoughtlessly. Albeit, not all that tactfully. Her voice pitched a decibel higher that had her sounding more like a crying cat than a scornful woman. Yet, upon hearing the revelation, Bradley’s features softened, and when her lip started to tremble he moved closer. Through sniffles, she said, “don’t touch me, I’m still mad at you.”

He ignored the warning to tilt her chin up so that she was looking at him. “I missed you too.”

“Like—a lot.”

“A lot, a lot. You have no idea how much,” he muttered, softly brushing some hair off of her face. She wondered briefly about what her dad had said; about how the people willing to stick around to understand you were better than those who did immediately. But—what if those people were one in the same thing? “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back. I stopped by the motor pool but you were already gone. Boomer said you’d be here tonight.”

She floundered. “He didn’t say anything about it.”

“I got the idea that he was a little pissed at you,” Bradley mused.

When he arched his brow she shrank beneath his gaze. The stories of her behavior over the past week were not something she was going to share with him. Ever, if that was an option. Instead, she evaded the unspoken question to ask, “why didn't you call?”

He sucked his lip between his teeth. "I did, actually. You probably have, like, a hundred missed calls and thirty voicemails from me at this point. You weren't answering your phone."

"My—oh," embarrassment welled up her throat until her entire face was bright red. "I left it in my glovebox because I kept losing it and I didn't want to be late tonight because Boomer was—it's a long story."

He didn't say anything. Just smiled softly while gently pulling her closer to him. At this distance, she could see the damage done to his face.

“Your face is all cut up,” she pointed out, softly brushing over the skin. He winced, and Matty immediately retracted her arm.

“It’s… a long story.”

They shared rueful, knowing smiles. "And everyone else?"

“Good. Better than good, actually. Hangman got another kill, so we know he won’t shut up about that. Not to mention that Mav finally got his head straight about Penny—said that the whole mission made him realize what was actually important and not. Think he might actually do something stupid like propose. And, you know, I got that kiss. Not a bad way to come back.”

She flushed. The scowl that came next was ruined a little by the pink dotting her cheeks. “Just… don’t do that again.”

“Kiss you?”

She punched him; softly this time. “Leave without telling me, dick.”

Bradley smiled.

"I told you, babe, you're unforgettable. I wouldn't dream of it." he said, and, when the compliment did lighten her mood, the air between them stopped feeling so tense and started feeling a whole lot more electric. Bradley fucking grinned. “Does this mean I can finally start buying you drinks?”

Matty huffed, inching closer, just as he swooped down to steal her breath. All thoughts of love and life and worry and fear vanished. And—yeah, in that moment, she felt like she finally did understand her mom a little bit better. It sucked having this big inevitable thing in life that would take away the person you cared about, but it was also worth it if every time they came back felt like this. Like nothing had changed, like no time had passed.

Like your heart would need a tune-up at the mechanics from how hard it was pumping.

This kiss ended sooner than the first, but her lungs ached just as much. “Can I take you out on another date?”

“I think you’d be better off taking me home,” she muttered. His chest rumbled with laughter, and while she did mean it, when Bradley tried to drag her away from the bar, she tugged him right back with a smirk. “Later. I think right now you need to buy me a drink.”

He fixed her with a handsome smile, before conceding.

“And don’t cheap out on the liquor, Bradshaw,” she snarked,

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Neven,” he quipped back with a small hand at her waist.

By the time they came out of their little bubble to tune back into what was happening at the bar, they found Penny had reappeared with two shots of tequila, as well as her platter of beers. Mav was chatting with her with a conniving sparkle to his eyes that Matty really didn’t like, but she didn’t get the chance to ask about it before there was a burst of yelling from the pool table.

Penny sighed. “Will you do something about that?”

“About what?”

“Boomer is hustling the pilots again,” she said. The brunette didn’t seem all that put out by it, though. Her tone was more so that of reluctant acceptance. “The last thing we need is him and Hangman to go at it over a couple of bucks. Those two have the biggest egos I’ve ever seen in this bar. The only thing worse is that I think they’re actually becoming friends.”

Matty and Bradley shared a look.

“Maybe we can stick around for—you know—just one game of pool,” he hedged.

“Well, it is pretty early,” she agreed. “And we definitely can’t have those two becoming friends.”

“No, of course not. They would suck all the air out of the room. Obviously, we can’t have that.”

There was a moment of silence as they sized one another up, before Matty and Bradley downed their shots of tequila in unison. She snagged two beers off of the tray, and before Mav could stop them, she said, “take the rest to the crew in the corner, won’t ya, Mav? We’ve got to hustle some losers at pool.”

Maverick popped his mouth open to protest, but they didn’t stick around to hear it.

“Well, well, well, what ‘ave we here?” Boomer cried when he saw her approach. He didn’t hesitate to take one of the beers out of her hand, and Hangman narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. “Finally come to help me teach blondie ‘ere how to lose with dignity?”

“Actually, Booms,” Matty grinned. “We thought we would teach you two how to lose with dignity.”

The boys straightened, sizing up how serious she was.

“Well?” Bradley arched a brow. His tone was just as devious as hers, and, really, she thought that maybe Penny was onto something about the lot of them being nothing but trouble. “You want to play or what?”

“Oh,” Hangman drawled. “It’s so on.”

The sound of the cue ball cracking somehow felt louder than the jukebox, but unlike the first time that the mechanics had been introduced to the pilots, Matty found that there was a whole lot more laughter than anything else. The others joined as the hours ticked by; a never-ending loop of pool, darts, cards, and then pool again that went until they were kicked out by Penny in the early morning hours. She didn’t remember a lot of it. The amount of alcohol they consumed was probably death-defying if she were being honest, but she did remember one thing.

She let a pilot buy her drinks.

And, fuck, did that feel good.

***taglist (we're finally done!) @callsignbarb @coyotesamachado @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @olivethenerd16 @the-winter-marvel33 @hiddleless @momc95 @alanadetigy @obsessedasusual @voidisms000

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #heart mechanics #rooster fanfic

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historia-vitae-magistras · 1 year

Text

Character Profile - Canada

Character Name: Canada. Matthieu Marc Jean-Luc Bonnefoy. Matthew Williams. Matt. Mattie. Mattie-no-mates. Frostbite. Mo leanbh.

Age: 10-12 by 1760, 13-14 by 1815, 18 by 1867, 22 by 1945.

Height: 6'0/183cm by 1867, 6'4/194cm by 1949.

Physical Description: A beautiful but disappointing baby that grew into a tall and oddly hollow adult, Matt will surprise people a little when he's not dressed like a flannel onion. He's a little too tall and thin to look normal unless he's in the woods, and then his body proportions look correct compared to the winter-stripped trees. He's got shit posture, so it's easy to forget how tall he is until he's reaching to get something off the top shelf someone asked for, and suddenly he's unrolling himself a whole new half-spinal column. He got some of Francis' beauty but much of Arthur's sharpness. He looks somewhat fragile, but in the way an axe with a poorly proportioned handle does. He'll get the fucking job done, but the damage accrued will be impressive.

Eye colour: Blue on a technicality but a shade of deep arctic water grey-blue. The sky in the dead of winter when the cloud cover is so thick the whole world is tinged with carbon, charcoal and iron.

Hair colour/style: A few shades lighter than Alfred's and just a hue or two shy of being strawberry blond. When it's his own choice (and for much of history, it wasn't), he wears it longer than Alfred generally, so the curl shows more than on Alfred. He's spent so much time in the bush that it's gotten disgusting and needed to be cropped short again because he wasn't keeping it up on it. Still, in modern times he has an embarrassing amount of hair care products he's always hiding when Alfred comes over and throws a 15 in one bottle of something in the shower, or he'll get the absolute mickey taken out of him.

Other distinguishing physical traits: He's got some scars floating around but not many, all things considered.

Personal Appearance/Style: He can look extremely nice and put together, with a very fashionable closet of options at certain times, especially for official events, but otherwise, he's a creature of comfort. Flannel pyjama pants, sweaters, two pairs of socks, a collection of plaid shirts he's barely updated in decades. His entire existence relied on French fashion for half his life, so he knows the rules and can look like a fashion plate if he wants to; the problem is he generally doesn't want to, and his own tastes are quite homely. Even Arthur is like, "come on now, lad, you can do better than that."

Verbal Style: He mostly has a fairly mild Canadian accent and honestly plays it up around others to further distinguish himself from Alfred. He speaks a very standard version of French around others most of the time because he's easily embarrassed when laughed at about Quebecois or the rest of his non-standard dialects but drunk or upset, it's pure joual and ironically the only person who understands him is Arthur because English kept weird pieces of the Norman dialects that made up most of the early Canadien French. His Gaelic is good but has some French sounds in there. His Dutch sounds, unfortunately, Flegmish to Jan because he spoke French natively and learned a lot of it in Flanders during WW1. Russian + German, he speaks with a raging Ukrainian accent just for the raging fuck you from Katya. Those Gs of his are a pure hique from the steppes or downtown Lviv.

Level of Education: He had a very good classical education under Francis in the 17th and early 18th centuries, when he still thought he might be useful. Still has quite a lot of skills in Greek, Latin and Hebrew when he wants to. He's never been much good with math or financial things; his math somewhat stopped at what he needed to be an effective clerk for the fur trade. The only time Alasdair ever yelled at him was when Matt just completely blanked for decades with Algebra and Calculus. Did very well in almost all applied versions, though. He has much knowledge of many things and surprises people quite often with how much he has retained from being the first dominion. That position gave him a very pragmatic political education under Arthur and some really sharp peacekeeping skills. He got more into forestry after WW2. He's the most educated nation in the world now, and its probably because showing up for class keeps him out of the woods and going feral.

Occupation: Diplomat, forest ranger, government minister, arctic conservation.

Past Occupations: Soldier, sniper, infantry, pilot, paratrooper, ship's boy, lumberjack, fisherman, apothecary, fur trapper, merchant's clerk, farmer, hunter.

Skills, Abilities or Talents: He can go practically unnoticed by other nations, especially when those with stronger identities are around. He was practically born a part of the forest. He can survive in woodlands practically indefinitely, even when he's so mentally ill he turns off the human parts of his existence. Knows practically every animal and plant in his country and a good chunk of the world. As almost as natural on the water as Arthur but better in smaller crafts meant for freshwater.

Admirable Personality Traits: Deeply loyal, compassionate, giving, gentle, polite, and welcoming.

Negative Personality Traits: Loyalty is a really two-edged sword, anxious, depressive, reserved, cold, and passive-aggressive.

Sense of Humor: Gentle, ironic, self-deprecating.

Physical/Mental illness or affliction: Absolutely terrible lungs and horrible ankles from snowshoeing and hockey, he started having back pain during his last growth spurt, and it never went away. He's a fucking tinderbox of mental problems. Just throw the fucking DSM at him, honestly, because he's been a wreck his entire life. He might tie his father, but he happens to hide it even better than Arthur because he doesn't end up drunk on his brother's doorstep because he's got even less of a wish to be a nuisance than Arthur. And also, he doesn't affect international policy like Arthur or Alfred's, so no one really gives a shit how moody he's been for most of his life as long as he goes and does it out of view, so he's not wrecking the mood or being a nuisance.

Hobbies/Interests: Reading, hockey, hiking, camping, woodwork and carving in practically any material, even ice. Sailing, kayaking, skiing, snowboarding. He and Alfred go good old-fashioned sledding almost every year.

Favourite Foods: Anything warm; he's not about to be fussy, annoying and picky. He loves poutine, the good stuff with duck fat demi-glace, but nothing satisfies as much as oven fries from the frozen section, cheese curds and packet or jarred gravy. He's the holy mother of carb whores. Potatoes, bread, pancakes, doughnuts, pastry, Montreal bagels. Remember, we're the fucking people who looked at pizza and spaghetti and went "hmmm..... that's not enough carbs" and put the fucking spaghetti on the pizza.

Most important personal item: When he plays some important hockey matches he uses the laces from the combat boots he was wearing for VE-Day to hold his leg pads on. He had a rosary with the largest piece made from the bulla Rome gave Francis he carried everywhere, but Francis took that with him 'for safe keeping' when the Seven Years War started to go against them, and Matt never saw it again. He still has the one Alasdair made him from whatever rocks and wood were around in a trunk of keepsakes.

Person/friend close to character: Alfred is the most important person in his life, whether he likes it or not. He usually prefers it that way but only sometimes. Maria has been a close friend since the 90s. Jan is very special and was almost exclusive until the 90s, but still a large part of his life. Arthur's really important still. Jack and Zee are a fixture. Francis is important but a massive dick. He and Aditya have always gotten on extremely well, especially with Sikh culture strongly represented in Canada. Katya is ungodly important to him, being his most distinctive formative part besides indigenous, French and British.

Brief family history: He was born a baby hot potato between Scotland, France and England, getting tossed around constantly because fuck he was useless and expensive. Assuming Arthur is his father, he's got two uncles (one of whom Arthur considered his 'actual' father for a while) and an Aunt. One older brother, one younger and a sister. He might have more 'family' on Francis' side, but his global relations are still very much informed by the Anglosphere today. Diversity win! your favourite gay couple committed war crimes and produced a nervous wreck! Everyone waited in anticipation of the third North American child after the impressive shows put on by Maria and Alfred. It was probably the greatest letdown of 17the century European bullshit in the Americas after the silver collapse, and that set the tone for his familial relationships for the rest of time.

Most painful experiences in the character’s past: 1760, the Rising of 1837-1838, Passchendaele, Halifax going boom.

Their Song: The Unlikely Candidates – Follow My Feet

#Character Sheets || bodies and flesh of borders and fences #Matthew || my country is winter

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banannabethchase · 9 months

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19 buckbucks and hangman (can be some kind of throuple or platonic!)

Braid Lessons

Adam, yawning, stumbles into the EVP hotel suite, ready to collapse into his bed. He very quickly sees this is not an option.

"Why are there two Bucks in my bed?" he mumbles, half asleep. "Usually there's only one of you."

"I'm braiding Nick's hair," Matt says, teeth pinching a hair elastic. "He's getting flyaways."

"Am not!" Nick replies. "Matt's being annoying. He wants to practice his braiding or whatever."

Matt looks at Adam, a very you know how he is, kind of glance, and Adam can't help but smile.

"This mean I don't get to go to sleep?"

"We'll go to sleep soon," Matt replies. "I'm almost done."

Adam watches as Matt braids. It's slow and labored, messy at its worst and mediocre at it's best, but Matt is trying so hard his knuckles are white. It's endearing.

"And there!" Matt says, dropping the floppy braid. "All done." He frowns, noticing the bumps. "Oh, no."

"It's good, Matty," Nick insists, standing up. "Please, for the love of god, let me go back to my room so I can get some alone time."

Matt pouts. "Fine." He watches as Nick leaves the room, and Adam watches Matt.

"Matty," Adam says, as gently as he can, "are you trying to get better at braiding?"

"What? No."

Adam raises an eyebrow and pulls his hair out of his bun. "Is this about that wedding hair thing I saw you pull up last night?"

Matt blushes bright red. "No."

"Matt."

"...Yes." He flops down on the bed. "Braids are hard and I don't want to spend two hundred dollars on a stylist when I know I could figure it out on my own. And I know you haven't proposed or anything yet but," he shrugs, eyes going big and sweet, "I want to be ready."

"Proposed?" Adam says, standing up behind Matt and pulling out what appears to have been an attempt at a braid. "Who says I'm going to do it?"

"Nobody," Matt says, relaxing as Adam runs his fingers through his hair. "But, you know. I want to be prepared."

Adam laughs, low. "Alright. Tell me what else you're preparing for."

Matt talks at a speed nearly impossible to follow, listing venues and invites and people. It's good timing that he takes a second to breathe halfway through the linen options.

"Done," Adam says, laying the rest of Matt's hair down.

"Done?" Matt asks, reaching up. "You - you were actually doing something?"

Adam nods. "Go look."

Matt scrambles to his feet and books it to the bathroom. "Oh, my god!"

"Look at the back," Adam says, taking a photo. He shows it to Matt.

Matt turns to him, the loose hair flying around his face. "These are the Legolas braids!"

"Yep," Adam says. "Two small French braids by the ear, fishtail down the back. Easy as pie."

"You did it!" Matt says. "I - how did you - it's perfect - I -" Matt cuts himself off and throws himself into Adam's arms, kissing him like they're on the bow of the Titanic and not post-match tired in a hotel room.

Adam pulls back to yawn after a bit. "I'm glad you like it."

Matt turns them so he can get a look at himself in the mirror and stay holding Adam. "I look like a sexy elf," he whispers.

"You are a sexy elf," Adam says, leaning down to kiss at Matt's jaw. "You've even got the height down."

Matt splutters in protest all the way into the bed, where Adam gets to quiet him in both of their favorite ways.

#This is pure unadulterated fluff #Like #Make a dentist appointment for this one #HangMatt #anxious millennial dreamboat #Matt attrackson #in which sara writes #sarahcakes613

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blackjackkent · 5 months

Text

Speaking of surprises, Raphael and Mol are sitting in the corner of the Last Light Inn playing a chess game.

??????????

"Your move, Mol," the devil is saying with a sly grin as the group approaches.

The young girl's one visible eye is narrowed in deep frustration. "You trapped me," she whines. "I didn't even want to take that one."

"Calimshan rules, dear," Raphael says, leaning back casually in his seat. "The first piece touched is the first piece moved." His eyes flick to Hector and he inclines his head slightly in recognition.

"That's garbage," Mol grumbles. "No matter where the knight goes, I'm gonna lose it."

"Then make the sacrifice useful," Raphael says smoothly. "Guard your Mystra, or come for my Cyric."

OK so not exactly chess. Apparently this is something called "lanceboard" - basically chess but with pieces named for gods. We've heard Gale mention this in some of his ambient dialogue when I select him.

"What's going on here?" Karlach asks. Perhaps the interaction with Mattis has her feeling protective of all the tiefling children here, because she moves a little to Mol's side, squinting warily at Raphael.

Mol looks up, her eyes traversing the little group and landing on Hector; she brightens at once and grins. "Look who made it! For once, I saved *your* butt out there, didn't I? We're square now, chief." She pauses, then looks down at the board again and scowls. "Say - do you play lanceboard by any chance? It's my first time playing."

Hector has played some, I think, and he's not half-bad, but Gale speaks first, and it's clear he has a far more intimate knowledge of the game.

"He's laid a fine trap for you, Mol. But it looks to me like his Cyric could be dethroned."

Hector nods agreement - he would have made the same suggestion. "Gale's right. Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his Cyric."

Mol considers this, then reaches out with a swift movement and knocks aside one of Raphael's pieces with her own.

Raphael smiles blithely. "My, the Theskan Double Counter-Gambit. Vicious. Exactly what I would have done."

Mol, energized by this, reaches out and places another piece with an air of finality. And indeed, as Hector looks at the board, the game is over - Raphael's Cyric hemmed in by its own pieces and the attacking threat.

"How's that for Calimshan rules?" the girl says with a smirk.

Raphael's smile does not waver, though something darker flashes in his eyes. "Brava! Lovely work. I see I was right to make you the offer I did. You will consider it, won't you?"

Mol doesn't answer, just looks at him in studied silence for a long moment, then slides off her chair and disappears into a crowd of Harpers in the main room.

Hector, however, has gone on full alert with these words. It's one thing that Raphael tried to cut a deal with him and his companions - they're grown people and in danger of death, capable of making their own judgment. But a child, and such a vulnerable one... Hector feels a surge of anger that he knows the others are also experiencing.

Raphael, feeling the group's collective ire fixating on him, stands languidly from his chair and settles back on his heels with a smirk. "What a lovely specimen she is," he says, tone mild but undercoated with menace. "A blushing apple, begging to be plucked."

"Please let me smack this creep," Karlach growls through her teeth. Hector has half a mind to let her, but Raphael is still talking.

"The Theskan move suggestion was inspired. I had no idea you played!"

"There's plenty about me you have no idea about," Hector says coolly.

"Don't I, indeed..." Raphael smirks. "But don't you worry about Mol. It goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose...the only option she has left." His voice turns from a pleasant purr to something darker, rumbling in his throat. "Besides, I do enjoy being in this neighborhood again. It has such a rich history of abject tragedy. And tragedy, my friend -- well, there's my bread and bloody butter."

Hector scowls. He can feel the sharp pulses of heat from Karlach next to him, strained like an attack dog pulling at its leash. "Just stay away from Mol, you hear?" he says firmly.

Raphael grins and spreads his arms casually, unperturbed by any evidence of threat. "She won," he says with a shrug. "She has a taste for it now. She'll be the one who comes to me."

He waves a hand dismissively. "But enough about my lesser pursuits. Why bother with trifles when I'm in the illustrious presence of my very favorite client!" He makes an exaggerated bow before Hector. "Tell me, O apple of my eye, how have you been? You don't have any gills to get green around yet, but you do look a bit worse for wear in this light."

Hector glares at him. "You know, I've never been better," he says, deadpan.

"Excellent," Raphael says with faux-brightness, his eyebrows lifting. "And yet..."

His expression hardens, his eyes narrowing, burning into Hector's. "I have this picture in my head - of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night. Thinking strange things. Dreaming strange dreams." His lip curls with a disdainful smile. "And there's this little voice inside of you asking, 'Is this my will, or is it the worm's?' But you have no answer, and no way of knowing."

He steps forward. Hector can feel a strange heat about him, not the sharp flame like Karlach carries but something deeper, a hellfire banked into embers waiting to explode into life. "The good thing is, though...there's only one little voice you really should listen to."

His voice drops to a hoarse growl. "Mine."

Then he steps back, his expression immediately lightening again to a jovial smile. "See you soon!"

And he's gone, bursting into a cloud of smoldering ashes.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #ok obviously he's a jerk but raphael is such a fun character #his VA is killing it too

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undyingembers · 8 months

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8, 9, 13, 27, 36, 37, and 38 for the BG3 Act 1 asks?

8. Do you have a favorite member of the Druid Circle? Is it the same as your Character's?

I love Nettie so much (mostly because she shares the same name as my cat), but I just really liked her intro and reactions to the main character being infected. Idk if Wistenra even has a favorite member of the enclave. If they had to choose, it would be Halsin, but only because they know him the best.

9. Do you have a favorite member of the Tiefling Refugees? Is it the same as your Character's?

All the tiefling kids are my favorites. But I think Wistenra is particularly fond of Mattis. They love an upcoming con artist and being able to show off tricks of their own.

13. Do you have a favorite character from the Underdark? Is it the same as your Character's?

Omeluum. He’s just so fascinating. I love the character concept (I just love weird characters in general). I think Wistenra shares similar opinions.

27. Who ended up in your Character's most used party?

It was mostly Wistenra, Karlach, Gale, and Shadowheart. Wistenra could pick locks and disarm traps, so they didn’t absolutely need Astarion in the party, and they were (mostly) doing a good playthrough. At first the only reason I took Gale was because I wanted to pursue the romance with him (still hoping for the Wistenra/Gale/Karlach poly), but he’s super useful to have in the party. Karlach was the tank and another romance option. There’s no reason not to have a cleric, so Shadowheart it was.

36. Did your Character find the Adamantine Forge? Did they use it? What did they make?

They did! They made scale mail for Shadowheart. Enemies can barely hit her!

37. Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it?

I didn’t, but god damn it I’m going to say that Wistenra did. Gale seems like he really wants it, so it’ll probably go to him.

38. Did your Character meet Barcus Wroot? How's he doing?

Wistenra did get him down from that windmill. He’s doing doing all right, though he managed to get himself in trouble yet again, and Wistenra had to get him out of it again.

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #wistenra #thanks for the ask!#turbulentpumpkin43 #pwotr pals

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lookedlikethebins · 6 months

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as someone who got into fanfiction bc they just want to see their fave characters ✨live life✨ i very much support the idea of an ongoing series!

so so excited for it!

am going to be annoying and ask some more qs

what is matty's dissertation topic/which class does he ta

does george still produce for charli (pls say yes)

is ta! matty aware that our g is a Big Deal or completely clueless (love both options)

that's why i like it too!! in my original works i always write too much of life's daily minutiae (to current fiction's standards, that is) so i LOVE having an outlet to write the simple day to day driven by joy (and dialogue, my beloved). now we've got two votes for on-going series!!

and omg you are NOT being annoying!! i'm a discovery writer so most times when answering questions i uncover/discover things i wouldn't have necessarily thought about before so i'm actually very appreciative of the questions, love. Thank you!!!

I'm still trying to decide the dissertation topic! i was going to, quite frankly, steal from the research paper i wrote for my mfa but i don't think i can make that funny lol? there has to be a certain level of hilarity to how intense matty is going to be getting about all the books he's reading/teaching. i always lean towards Homer, Milton, or Plato (ooo perhaps symposium??) because there's just so much there (and in some cases particular translations to argue with) and it is RIPE for a matty rant (that goes over george's head but he's smiling and nodding)

I was thinking a specific author-based seminar but now i'm thinking he'd probably be stuck as a TA for an introduction to literature (theory) class or something. reading roland barthes to a bunch of 19yos and just... gritting his teeth.

George can absolutely still produce for Miss XCX. perhaps it's her track that gets him Out There first. omg introducing everyone's favorite career-boosting bestie charli!! (who thinks matty is so endearing and good for george bc thank god he can stop showing up to (and leaving) her parties alone... he was too hot to be doing that)

Through waughy, matty sort of knows george does music (general) and well enough to make a career out of it. but at a certain point it does dawn on him that oh people are taking their picture when they go out... people are trying to follow him on the insta he never uses... students are asking him about his super cool boyfriend (when he's never even mentioned he's queer in that class). and then he realizes OH my boyfriend is um. actually kind of a big deal?? like he knew he was talented, knew he was working hard, knew he was getting paid (insert george owning a full home before 30) but did not put two-and-two together...

#ANON I AM SO HAPPY YOU'RE INTERESTED!#this is making me so :))) thank you!!!!!#producer george and TA matty fic #asks #answered

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lily-blue-blue-lily · 7 months

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i made a poll about taylor swift. it slightly made my notes a living hell for a week. heres some info i gathered from it cos i figure some people might find it interesting!

(gonna put a keep reading thing cos this might get long!)

- the post got 36k votes and 7.5k notes and really made it round every possible opinion on taylor swift there could be

- it was a lot more negative than i was expecting. i accidentally found my way onto swiftie instagram a few months ago and now my instagram algorithm thinks thats all i wanna watch so i think maybe my perception of how many people are actually are a fan of her is a bit skewed?

- that being said, in general, people were actually very reasonable and had very nuanced opinions in the notes, which was a little surprising

- however, the people who really really dont like her have absolutely zero chill

- tumblr swifties are a lot better than instagram swifties

- i should have made some options on the poll which included being completely neutral/having no opinions on her as a person, thats my bad

- a lot of people think shes hot, regardless of their opinions on her or her music

- the main reasons, roughly in order, for people disliking her are:

1. her fans

2. the private jet thing

3. the matty healy thing

4. her having a white woman victim complex

5. her being a nepo baby (something i wasnt aware of before this poll)

6. her music being overplayed at peoples places of work (which is so valid, i cant listen to cardigan without wanting to die for this very reason!)

(there were other reasons people disliked her but these are main ones)

- a lot of people who said they didnt like her music did have one or two songs that they said were the exception. these are all the ones i saw specified:

- love story

- you belong with me

- innocent

- blank space

- look what you made me do

- bad blood

- the best day

- safe and sound

- no body no crime

- style

- anti-hero

- we are never ever getting back together

- tolerate it

- seven

- you're on your own kid

- long live

- never grow up

- also quite a lot of people said they disliked her music with the exception of one album. the albums i most saw specified for this were 1989, fearless and speak now.

- a lot of people, regardless of their overall opinion on her/her music dislike midnights

- a lot of people said they only liked her music up until red. alternatively, quite a lot people said they have only liked her music released since red.

- i learnt about gaylors (and kaylors) through this poll. i didnt really know that was a thing. it confuses me. (shoutout to the anon i got about it, i dont agree with you and dont really get it, but you were also one of the nicest people towards me on this poll so i very much appreciate that, thank you!)

- on that topic, everyone, regardless of their opinions on taylor, seems to be annoyed by gaylors. (except the gaylors themselves).

- i got frequently (and sometimes quite aggressively) accused of being a swiftie on this poll due to the range of options on it. im not actually a swiftie, im just bad at making polls! i have very complicated opinions on her that frequently change, which is the main reason i made the poll, i wont go into detail on my thoughts on her here (nor did i on the actual poll) but im happy to explain my thoughts fully if someone asks!

- finally, here are some tags that made me laugh!

and this tag, which might be the most baffing thing anyone has ever added to one of my posts:

theres probably more absolute gems hidden in the notes, but this poll got a lot of tags and replies and there was no way i could read everything!

thanks for reading and please dont take any of this too seriously, i made the poll due to my own curiosity and this post is just for anyone else interested!

#taylor swift

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the1975attheirverybest · 9 months

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They are very much part of my upbringing and my culture whether I like it or not. It's a very intricate subject and I did a poor job at explaining it, but I get what Matty means.

// omfg @steel-elle (cant tag but holy shit, do I get you)

As a Croatian I can relate to all of your experiences, to the point where my dad is a non-believer (I believe he would say he's an atheist, but imo he is more in the pursuit of understanding and knowing instead of belief/religion). And my mum is a believer but on a very mild level (we go to church for the big holidays, mostly as a tradition nowadays).

But I myself have been saying I'm culturally catholic in the sense of upbringing and basically everything that surround me. Religion as class in school (from ages 7-15; then I took ethics in high school), religion all around, and I just started rejecting it very early on (I was about 10-11) - becauseee basically I was going to get the first communion sacrament (fancy), and at the age of 9 to be allowed to do this i had to;

Go to religion classes once (maybe even twice my memory is hazy) a week IN SCHOOL (secular state my ass)

Go to religion classes in church once a week (after school)

You HAD to be present at both, you couldn't opt out at school and say I'm going to church things. It had to be both.

Sing in a choir - even though choir practices coincided with my acting classes I had to alternate for a whole year (surely God would have wanted me to). And wasn't even a type of child who would sing solos, I was one of 20ish others just singing in the background. My acting on the other hand - spectacular (for a 9 year old at least).

I wasn't allowed to miss choir practice without a valid reason.

Had to go to specific Sunday mass even if I had volleyball games, or if we were out of town my mum had to explain we were idk on a family trip and I would have to go to another time-slot in the week.

So that was the academic from age 9-10. And of course once communion has been squared away I wanted to not go, like this was it for me. The bs that started it all was me having to miss my drama classes. And I wanted to stop going to religion classes in school, my parents supported me, but thw nun(!!) who would come in to teach saw me in school hallway twice within first two weeks of school and basically said she was "disappointed in me" and idk implied goinf to hell. So I went back home distraught and asked my mum to like get me into religion classes bcs it was the better option.

Anyway, I've got a weird religion/catholic kink now so the jokes on them.

Best religious experience was that I went to a full on catholic kindergarten and that was amazing. (probably did not help the kink tho). But it was very light and easy going, we had funky lil childrens prayers, and listened to stories about how we can do kind deeds n shit.

(sorry this is so long but I read the words religious discourse or see the word catholic and my brain just... needs to join)

Don’t apologize at alllllll!!! This is really really interesting for me to learn actually. And it’s a way for all of us to collectively expand and explain the notion of culture vs theology or religious practice that Matty hinted at.

And I think it varies so much from one country to another too! Like you guys (Italy and Croatia) have a different experience than me/ in the US. I was talking to Ambrose @bookish-strawberry about it last night, but I feel like England is very chill about atheist and it feels like the norm whereas in the US, even though the constitution says “freedom of religion” and separation between church and state, government is VERY fearful of atheism AND tons of Republican lawmakers use the Bible as a justification. (Which is the opposite of what the country is supposed to be founded on but that’s a whole other thing.) so my experiences with religion and culture here are very very different from y’all. And then my own personal beliefs as a Muslim existing in an Islamophobic country. All of this is super clarifying and interesting to hear how others around the world have experienced this stuff! I love it when you all chime in!

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just-a-queer-fanboy · 11 months

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Trigger warning: literally everything I am too stressed to go through this and add in every specific warning

There's no fucking way I'm going to wait 5 years just to get away from her. We go to the same middle school. We're going to go to the same high school. I've blocked her everywhere I could find her online, but the one place I know she'll see me break down at is in person.

And no, I can't get a restraining order, there were no cameras in that basement to capture what she did, she was stopped before she actually did anything, and there were literally only 2 witnesses, one of which most likely would rather side with a rapist than not side with her best friend.

I have pretty much no friends that aren't also friends with her, and considering we usually hang out in a group, guess who I can't escape in that setting?

I have absolutely nowhere to go. She lives in m neighborhood. She goes to my school. She's friends with my friends.

She may have sided with me when I got into that fist fight, but there's no way she'd ever admit what she did to me. And she's a popular kid, too! Everyone knows her! Every time I see someone they always ask me "how's Mattie?" "You still dating Mattie?"?? And I have to answer like we just casually broke up and it was mutual and nothing bad ever happened because nobody is going to believe that she'd ever want to be anywhere near the ugly faggot who never makes any facial expressions!! And even if they did, it would get around the school, she'd find out, all my friends would side with her, I'd be left alone, and then I'd be fair game to harass again. And there is no fucking way I'm going back to being the punching bag.

I can't escape her, I can't escape the assholes that harassed me all through elementary school, I can't get out of any situation I've gotten into! Not even the 2 times that I know it actually wasn't my fault!

I'm not going to attempt suicide, but I can't think of any options other than death or psychiatric hold.

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outshinethestars · 1 year

Text

Patchwork (Daredevil fic)

“You’re hurt,” Matty said.

“It’s not too bad,” Jack said.

“Need stitches?” Matty asked, but in that way of his, like he knew full well that Jack did in fact need them. Jack had no idea how Matt could tell, but then he’d always sort of suspected the kid was psychic, he was that damn smart. Jack didn’t bother to contradict.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, Matty,” is all he said, “I’ll live.”

Matty’s nose scrunched up beneath his dark glasses, and his shoulders went up with a sort of uncertain determination.

“I could do it. I mean, I think. Probably. I could try, if you want,” Matty said.

Jack gave his kid a long look over.

Jack knew that training up your baby to play nurse for you wasn’t the sort of thing recommended by any parenting books. He hadn’t done it because he had to, the way he’d done so many things in his life that Matty’d be better off without. There'd always been other options, other people he could have asked for help if he really needed. The only reason he’d come home with his face sliced open this time was that he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t remembered that Matty couldn’t help him anymore until he’d almost reached the door.

The thing was, Jack got hurt. His damn job was to lose fights, it seemed like, more than it was to win them. That’s a scary thing to be living with as a kid, scary knowing your daddy is getting hurt, could get hurt real bad, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

So Jack had Matty cleaning and bandaging at age six, stitching him up by eight. Because that gave the kid a sense of agency, of control, like he was helping, like he wasn’t lost at the sea of chaos that was life when you were just one tiny kid with one man standing between you and the wide, cold world. Matty was smart and he was stubborn, and he wanted to be doing things always had. So Jack taught Matty how to help, how to stitch him up, so that they could pretend that maybe Jack got hurt, maybe there was nothing Matty could do about it, waiting alone for him at home, but Jack would always come home, and Matty would always be there to put the pieces together afterwards, and the waiting wasn’t for nothing.

So Jack considered his kid, his brave, good, newly blind kid.

The cut was sort of low down on his cheek. It wouldn’t hurt anything to let the kid give it a try. Well, it could certainly hurt but it probably wouldn’t cause any serious, irrevocable damage to anything but Jack’s prettiness, which was a lost cause in any case. It’d never been about the stitches. It was about Matty knowing he could help, knowing he wasn’t a burden, knowing they’d be okay. Matty needed that now more than ever

“Alright, I’ll get the stuff,” Jack said. And the way Matty straightened, the pride and confidence in the set of his shoulders, yeah, Jack was willing to give a lot to see that.

Matty washed his hands twice, thoroughly, before he sat down across from Jack.

“Sutures at your two o’clock, scotch’s at twelve,” Jack said.

“I heard that when you set it down,” Matty said.

“Well then, Smartass,” Jack said, “better get to it.”

Matty took a swig of the scotch. That was part of the fiction, too. It’d helped with the nerves the first time, but Matty’d never been nervous since. Even now, doing it blind, Matty’s hands wouldn’t shake. The scotch was part of the ritual of it, so that Matty got to pretend he was grown up and in control, so that they both could pretend they were okay.

Matty gently wiped the blood from Jack’s face, then carefully ran his finger along the length of the cut. He made a disapproving tutting noise when he saw the extent of it, the sound was too old for him and reminded Jack almost painfully of Maggie.

“You really should have gotten this looked at by someone who could see,” Matty said when he was about half way through with stitching.

“You seem to be managing well enough,” Jack said, trying not to move his face too much. It was true. It was hard to tell of course, but the stitching felt right, and the kid’s hands were sure. A lot more than Jack was expecting in all honesty, but Matty always exceeded expectations, wasn’t any obstacle he couldn’t get past, this kid.

“Stop talking,” Matty said, face screwed up in concentration, but his voice was pleased and proud.

“So, how’s it look,” Matty asked when he was finished. Jack examined himself critically in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t the kid’s best work, but it was serviceable, a damn sight better than you could expect from any nine year old, let alone a blind one.

“You did good, Matty,” Jack said, “You did damn good.”

“Hm,” Matty said skeptically, “I’ll do better next time.”

“What if there isn’t any next time, huh?” Jack asked, “What if I leave all the bleeding for the other guy going forward?”

“Now wouldn’t that be a miracle,” Matty said with world weary irony. Jack swore he grew up to be more like his mother every day.

“Smartass,” Jack said fondly, scuffing his kid over the head. Matty leaned into the touch, grinning smug as sin.

They’d be okay, the two of them, they’d be just fine.

#Daredevil (TV)#Matt Murdock #jack murdock #fic and fic-like things #my stuff

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frostbeees · 2 years

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But who does Bordo want to fuck on each team

boston: if you expected me to not say cheeks then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ he's american and have you seen his face? and how solid he is?

buffalo: cozzy bc big and feisty. pow if we're going for repeats but im trying to make this like a "to hit it" list

detroit: mo. see above but also something about stealing the juice from the most recent calder winner right before his rookie season blah blah blah

florida: ratty matty. unless they sign staalsy off his PTO (yes i will continue the estaal rookie train)

montreal: cole (is anyone surprised) but only bc my hc is that they've always been passing ships over the years

ottawa: clod. another smallish frenchie?

tampa: had to phone a friend on this one bc i dislike the bolts so much that i couldn't pick but @darkangel0410 said sergy bc "he's a pouty bitch and needs to be put in his place" and im good with that

toronto: W I L L Y! fashion bitches

carolina: jordy bc if eric isn't an option, you gotta have at least one staal on your list. thems the rules

columbus: silly. that mouth?

new jersey: i think he cheats here. superbuddies

islanders: tito. again. mouth (am i forcing my mouth kink on bordy? damn straight.)

rangers: k'andre. hands down

philadelphia: he writes and crosses off yam so many times bc hello some of the best sex of his life right there. but for real: foery. he's hears so many raving reviews

pittsburgh: guentz! gotta go with the american and the only penguin i tolerate

washington: gotta be oshbabe

arizona: keller

chicago: the way i genuinely did not know who was even on this team anymore. but ignoring the obvious answer: actually you know what, there's only one answer bc he's at the top of all the american boys lists: 88

colorado: EJ

dallas: segs. he wants to know if they hype is real. i have a very solid idea of how this will go though and neither of them will be satisfied

minnesota: boldy boldy boldy

nashville: juice. bc hes so bendy

st. louis: parayko. big boy

winnipeg: lowry. gotta bag one wolfie boy at least right

anaheim: he definitely asks z for hte best on the team and z comes back with the whole roster. but lets go with mac for another wolfie

calgary: hanny

edmonton: obviously drai

los angeles: Q

seattle: look he wasn't going to put repeats on this list but none of those guys are gonna be as good as matty sooo

vancouver: quinn but only bc he wants to see jack's reaction when he drops it in the gc

vegas: eichs

honorable mention san jose: very much has to be erik

i wanna know who you agree with/disagree with? who you would have picked for him?

#anon #jess answers #bordy discourse #i truly dont know how i ended up with so many canadians when i was trying to keep this more american centric

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 11 months

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Thoughts on the Taylor collab with Ice Spice? In February Matty mockingly called ice spice an inuit spice girl and a chubby Chinese lady. The podcast he said this on was deemed offensive and was deleted and at a concert he apologized by saying "im kind of a bit sorry if I've offended you." A couple of months later Matty and Taylor went public and she collabed with ice spice. It's just a coincidence it's with her? It was done as a further apology and to not look like a racist person by being associated with Matty? Because some are not buying this as anything but performative pr. And the same people who are side eying Taylor are saying they're glad ice spice is cashing in on the white guilt. But this just seems like pandering if Taylor did this collab to make herself look good. And I honestly still havn't decided if they're an actual couple or pr. So if they are, they were probably together for a while, he said what he said about ice spice and Taylor was like oh shit, I better collab with her quickly before our relationship goes public. Obviously i'm just making up stories here to fill in the gaps of what we do know but I'm trying to understand what's really going on here and I wanted your opinion.

There's a lot here that reflects what I find tedious about the way Matty Healy and Taylor Swift are being discussed at the moment. In addition, trying to be clear about what happened is important to me, so it really bothers me that you're stating something as fact that is straight up not true in your second sentance.

But you asked me for my opinion - so I'm going to try and explore what I do find interesting. I think it's useful to start with what we don't know - we don't know when the collaboration was conceived and we don't know the timeline of Taylor's relationship with Matty Healy.

We can make guesses about both those things. There's photos from the studio that people can place. There are people who knows things about how long it takes to make CDs. People who pay more attention to Taylor and Ice Spice may be able to figure out when there were spaces for them to film. People who know more than me about CGI can guess how long these shots would have taken (one thing to take into account is that if Ice Spice was added at the last minute then her shots might have been filmed later). We can't know for sure about the timeline of the video, but it would be possible to put together some guesses with reasonable minimums and then figure out how that compares to the options for Taylor's relationship with Matty Healy.

But even if we did know the timeline and what was possible - that wouldn't give us any answers about motivations - we rarely know people's motivations. We can make them up - but when we do that's a choice we make. Keep making stories to fill the gaps with what we know if we want anon - but I think it's also useful to develop an understanding that they're just stories and they don't matter.

It is after all, just a remix, and I think it's very easy to put far too much weight on it. I will again link to the Gary Younge article that explains what's a stake if we treat racism as a series of bloopers rather than a system of power.

#I will say that I find the idea that this might be PR #pretty absurd #One of the things that I find most interesting about what's happening #is how high the cost is for both of them #(and a cost that is pretty deeply rooted in their worldview and psychology)

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huggybug · 2 years

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let me fix what’s broken - brendan brisson

word count: 1.9k words

note: I DID IT. not edited because i simply cannot stare at this any longer🫠 also officially the last umich goodbye fic ugh i’m sad

"You’re leaving?” You panted when Brendan opened the door. You had gotten a text notifying you that your boyfriend had officially decided to leave Michigan and you immediately ran from your lecture hall to his house.

“How did you get here so fast? Your class ended like five minutes ago” Brendan checked the time on his phone before looking back at you.

“Ran, not important” You took a second to catch your breath before throwing your arms around him. “Congratulations, I’m so proud of you” Brendan thanked you while pulling you into the house. A few of the remaining boys were scattered around the living room and you said a quick hello before you were dragged upstairs and into Brendan’s room.

“What’s going on?” You ask, just now noticing how unusually quiet he’s been.

“I think we need to talk” Your eyes widen and flicker from him down to your hands, suddenly feeling out of place. “We should break up”

“What?” You croak, your voice was almost too small to be heard.

“It’s just a lot, you know. We’re not going to see each other for a while and I’ll be busy in Vegas”

“Brendan...”

“I’m sorry but I think we’re better off if we just leave this as what it was” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you struggle to understand what he’s trying to say.

“And what exactly is that to you?”

“It was a college fling, Y/n, nothing more and nothing less” His words cut right through you. A college fling? You were in love with him and had been since you first met him as soon as you met him at that freshman event last September.

“I thought you loved me” All the talk about your future and how many kids you’d want, what dog you were going to get... it all meant nothing to him.

“I do... I-” He was dumbfounded, trying to find words that weren't there but you didn’t wait for him to figure it out.

“No Brendan, you don’t. This isn’t how you treat people that you love” You brushed by him, holding the tears back as you rushed past the boys who were sitting around the living room. They were confused when you came down alone and even more confused when they realized you were crying.

When Brendan came down the stairs only moments later, you were already gone and all he had left was his friends who were badgering him with questions.

“What the hell happened?” Mackie asked, still absolutely clueless about what Brendan could have possibly done to make you storm out of here like that.

“You actually did it? I thought you were joking bro” Thomas said, just now understanding.

“I had to, there was no other option” Brendan answered as he sat down next to his best friend.

“Did what? What am I missing?” Mark asked Thomas who shook his head and motioned to his best friend, deciding it was probably best if he explained it for himself.

“I broke up with Y/n” His confession was met with protests and shouts of disapproval by his friends.

“What in your little brain made you think that was a good idea?” Jimmy asked while shaking his head.

“She deserves better than a boyfriend who’s across the country. I can’t put her through that. She deserves more than just me” His voice was softer than usual and while it made some of the boys feel bad, they weren’t all as easily persuaded.

“Go apologize Briss, you know you don’t actually want this. Maybe if you beg, she’ll take you back” Thomas said, shoving his best friend lightly.

“It’s too late”

“Dude she literally just left” Luke rolled his eyes.

“I can’t do it to her, she’s better off if I just leave” He sighed before trudging up to his room to start packing.

...

The boys stayed out of it for the rest of the day, letting Brendan sulk in his room and checking up on you via text. It wasn’t until Thomas got a threatening text from Matty to ‘fix things or else’ that the boys had to divide a plan.

“She’s not going to want to listen to me” Thomas had just finished explaining the plan after a long conversation with Brendan, trying to convince him that he was wrong in breaking things off.

“Just let us worry about that” Ethan said, waving Brendan off.

“If this ends up biting me in that ass, I’m blaming you fools” Brendan said, hoisting himself up from the couch.

“You already broke up with her... what more do you have to lose?” Mark snickers and Ethan smacks his arm. It was all going to happen the next morning since Brendan’s plane didn’t leave until 1 which gave the boys plenty of time to set the plan in motion.

You got a phone call at 9am. “Y/n?”

“Thomas, if you’re not dying in a ditch somewhere I’m going to totally beat your ass” You groaned. Sleep had not come easily last night so the few hours you had actually gotten were interrupted way too soon.

“It’s important I swear, come to the house” You sighed but agreed before hanging up, reminding him that if he wasn’t actually leaving today, you wouldn’t be coming. You were dressed and ready to go in record speed and you hurried over to Thomas’ house. He was standing in the yard when you got there and you looked at him, then back to the house with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you get locked out?”

“No... just- come on” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind him as you struggled to keep up.

“Thomas-”

“Y/n!” You heard your name chorused and you looked around at the room full of boys who were not usually up this early on an off day.

“Hi?” You said awkwardly, still not too sure what you were doing here.

“So... why was I needed this early?” You were actually planning on spending the day in your dorm or at least until you knew Brendan would be gone to the airport.

“You can’t leave” Mark said quickly and your eyes widened slightly.

“You have to talk to Briss before he leaves” Ethan says next and you sigh while shaking your head. You should’ve known they were going to try and fix this. Your friends were nothing if not menaces and they loved sticking their noses in problems that weren’t theirs in the first place.

“No I don’t” You turned to the door, ready to make your exit.

“Just hear him out” Thomas caught your arm and when you looked back at him, you could tell he was pleading which normally would win you over.

“I don’t think this is something he can talk his way out of” You sigh as you reached for the door. “I’ll see you guys later” The boys were frozen in place as you left, closing the door quietly behind you.

“I told you it wouldn’t work” Brendan sighed, stepping out from the kitchen where the boys had sat him down before you came in.

“Alright... plan b” Jimmy said while shoving Brendan towards the door.

“What’s plan b?” He asks, stabilizing himself before he could faceplant into the door.

“Go after her!” Ethan yelled while opening the door and shoving Brendan outside. You turn when you hear the commotion and see your boyfriend ex-boyfriend stumbling down the steps.

“Y/n!”

“Don’t do this Brendan, don’t make this harder than it already is” You shook your head as you kept walking, you weren’t even mad at him anymore, you were just hurt.

“Just hear me out, please” You sigh before turning back to face him.

“What more could you possibly have to say Brendan?” “I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up, I shouldn’t have broken up with you... I love you” His eyes were wild while searching your face, trying to figure out how you would react.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That this was just a fling... that we were just a fling” Your heart squeezed when you relived the moment all over again. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if that’s all it really was but you knew it was more. The almost two years you’d spent together was definitely not just a fling.

“No... god no. I love you Y/n” You let out a breath, your wall was slowly starting to fall. “I was scared, well I am scared. Long distance is hard and you deserve better than that Y/n/n”

“You don’t get to make that decision alone Brendan!” You cried out.

“I know and that’s why I’m here now” He hesitantly takes a step towards you but when you don’t move away, he gains a little more confidence. “I’m sorry, I swear I’ll do anything to fix it”

“You can’t just break my heart like that and then come back right away, did you really think I’d take you back that easily?”

“Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me and I’ll drop it and leave you alone”

“I can’t” You say quietly. “Of course I want you Bren, I love you”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked and you took a deep breath.

“The problem is that I can’t trust you to not do this again”

“I promise on anything babe, if you want this... I will do anything I can to make it work. I just can’t leave without knowing for sure” That’s when it hit you... he was leaving today. In just a few hours, he’d be off to the airport, gone for who knows how long.

“Promise you won’t break up with me without actually talking to me first?” You ask and he laughs softly. “Unless I do something really terrible, then it’s acceptable”

“I promise” You bite the inside of your cheek before smiling. He grins before holding his arms out for you which you don’t hesitate before falling into him.

“I hope you know that I don’t deserve anything more than you” You say as you tilt your head up to look at him.

“Of course you do” He sighed. “You’re going to be a fucking Physiotherapist, you deserve a smart boyfriend”

“I have a smart-ass boyfriend, does that count?” You ask and he rolls his eyes before kissing you quickly. “I don’t care if you have a degree or not Bren” It was almost laughable that he thought something like that could be a problem for you.

“You’re going to have two degrees baby... I have none”

“By then you could have two Stanley Cups and I’d have none” You point out and he gives you a look.

“Don’t jinx me like that” You were too busy laughing at him to notice the previously empty street now had a line of hockey players standing and watching you.

“I told you it would work!” Thomas cheered with the boys and you were too busy laughing at Dylan and Luke (who were doing some sort of celebratory dance) to notice the other boys coming over to pat Brendan on the back.

“Alright, it’s like 9:30 and I’m hungry so let’s go get some food” You announce to the group who’s cheering in favour of food.

“Food and then we’ve got some goodbye festivities to have” Brendan comes up to whisper in your ear and you feel your cheeks flame while you elbow his stomach which elicits a loud laugh from him.

#brendan brisson x reader #brendan brisson imagine #brendan brisson fic #vegas golden knights #hockey writing #hockey fic #nhl players #nhl fanfiction

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eunoias-posts · 2 years

Note

I need a part 2 to the Owen angst pleaseeee

Hello my loves, sorry for not posting recently, and I'm just going to reply to this one since multiple of you guys requested a pt2 <3

Word count: 1.3K

Pt 1

A new semester, new classes. After a nice break, you were back at university. A new chance for almost anything. That being said, you were late as usual. Slinking into the classroom quietly, you sat down while the professor eyed you. Great first impression Y/N, you thought. You felt the eyes of a couple of your classmates judging you, and you decided to pay attention to your mouse cursor on your laptop. Your professor announced that your partner for the rest of the year would be the person next to you. You turned your head and almost choked. Him. The guy you would've given the world to. The guy who broke your heart unknowingly. Owen Power.

He looked at you a little surprised and stammered hi. “Hey,” you replied. You both gulped, feeling the awkward tension. Owen had finally gotten enough courage to confront you after sitting in silence for a couple of minutes, but as he opened his mouth, the lecture was over, and you dashed out the door. You quickly ran back to your room, where Molly, your roommate, relaxed on her bed, jumped at the sudden rapid movements of you bursting into the room. “Y/N, are you okay?”. You paced around your room and said quickly, “ Yeah, Yeah. I'm good, thanks, molly.”. She rolled her eyes before standing up and placing her hands on your shoulders and saying, “ no, you not, babe,” You sighed before sitting down and telling her, “ I saw Owen.”.

“ Oh shit, you mean Owen as in Owen Power, that guy from last year?” her eyes widened. “Yep… That's the one” you cringed a bit. She got a text, and she suddenly jumped up and said, “ oh no. I have to go, but Y/N/N, I promise I’ll be back, and we will talk about this,” she quickly grabbed a few things and ran out. Once she was gone, you sighed and let your back hit the soft mattress. Looking up at the ceiling, you closed your eyes and stayed like that for a few minutes before you jumped up frustrated, not at Owen but at yourself how you acted like a child when he got a girlfriend and blocked him on everything, along with cutting contact with the whole team. Sure it was brash, but heartbreak makes you do stupid things that you can't come back from. What were you supposed to do? Unblock him and say, “ sorry I blocked you, but I've been in love with you forever, and you getting a girlfriend pushed me over the edge?”. You pushed yourself off the bed and decided going for a walk would help you get these thoughts out. Grabbing your keys and phone, you chose to get a drink at the small coffee shop on campus.

While waiting in line, you heard the cashier call you up to order. You looked through the array of options and opted for a Hazelnut coffee. You thanked the barista after she handed you your drink. Walking towards the door, you were on your phone on on-hand scrolling through Instagram and the other holding the warm coffee. “Hey, is that Y/N,” you froze up at the mention of your name and the familiar voice. You quickened your pace and only stopped when you heard multiple shouts of your name. You grimaced before turning around to face Nick Blankenburg, Matty Beniers, and Kent Johnson. “Where have you been,” asked Nick. “ Yeah did you disappear off the face of the earth or something Y/N” Kent joked. You looked at them with an awkward smile and peeped out a hi. “Wow, our favorite fan is alive,” Matty teased before bringing you into a hug. You felt comfort in the small but short-lived hug. You had cut them all off, and you regretted it. But they felt no resentment towards you. They just were confused.

“I’ve been places…” you simply stated, taking a long sip of your coffee to prolong your resistance to talking to them. “Y/N, we know what happened,” Nick said with sympathy. You almost groaned, closing your eyes humiliated. Kent spoke up after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “ you know we missed you.”. You felt a pang of guilt before looking down at your shoelaces. Matty being the conversationalist he was, said, “ Y/N, we get that being around Owen must’ve been uncomfortable, but why did you leave all of us?”. You almost ran away, but the hand he had on your shoulder stopped you. You took a deep breath, sure, it was uncomfortable being confronted, but I mean, it would happen at some point. “ I just felt like you guys were more Owen’s friends than mine, and I couldn't just blab to you all how I was in love with him, and he didn't like me back. What type of best friend would I have been?” You confessed a few tears formed, not knowing how much you had missed them until now. “Y/N.. You know that you're our friend too? We would've done our best to help you.” Matty hugged you before the other agreed and joined the hug. You felt them pulling away, and Kent almost reverted back immediately to how he used to be and said, “ Actually, there's a party tonight, and I'm sure a couple of the guys would be glad to see you. They missed you as well. Do you wanna come?”. You weighed your choices before giving in and deciding you missed them too. They texted you the address and hugged you one last time before walking away. You were now really excited.

Going back to your dorm, you were met with Molly, who could sense your good mood from a mile away. She told you about the party, which you acted like you hadn't heard anything about, and she practically dragged you to go with her. That's how you ended up in front of a random frat with loud music and red solo cups everywhere. You got to the door suddenly feeling like your dress was a little too short and tight. You were tugging your black dress down, and Molly gave you a look and said, “ You look good, girl. Stop worrying so much; let's have some fun.” You walked in, and Nick quickly spotted you. He waved you over through the swarm of people. You walked towards the team and let out a breath of relief when you saw Owen wasn't there. “Y/N/N?!?” a couple of the boys looked at you in shock before bombarding you with questions. You felt happy for the first time in a few months while being pulled onto the couch where they sat fighting to sit next to you. “ Hey, mamas,” a drunk briss said before seeing your face and eyes widening dramatically, “ HOLY FUCK THAT'S- YOUR- Y/N.”. “ yes, briss, it’s me, the one and only.” You chuckled while he brought you in for a shocked hug.

Feeling a bit parched, you excused yourself to get a drink, and many of the boys offered to go with you, but you rolled your eyes playfully and said, “ I can go alone, clingies I’ll be right back.” Walking to the kitchen in slightly uncomfortable heels, you almost were annoyed at your outfit choice, but you had to agree when molly said you looked fucking hot back at the dorm. Where was Molly anyway, you thought. Looking around, you caught sight of your best friend. She was kissing some guy, and she saw you. You shot two thumbs up at her and continued to make your Martini. Adding a little umbrella, you were satisfied until someone pulled the drink out of your hand. Owen. You opened your mouth to protest before you saw him looking you up and down, and you suddenly felt a little too hot. He stared at you, and the buzzing noise of the party felt far away, “we need to talk.”.

#owen power angst #owen power imagine #owen power x reader #owen power #umich #umich hockey #umich imagine #hockey #ice hockey #anonymous #eunoia <3

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hockeywhy · 3 years

Text

4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t; m.tkachuk

WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 17.2k. A/N: So, I didn’t want my effort for this fic to go to waste and I’ve decided to re-write it for Matty because he and the fake dating trope work so well together. I had to, so here it is.

one.

“I’d only be asking Matthew if I had no other options and needed a last resort,” you said. “Until then, I’m not even contemplating it.”

“Kind of sounds like you’ve just about reached the bottom of your list, right around where you’re keeping Matthew, Y/N,” your friend, Anna, responded and though her tone said sympathy, the look on her face reflected anything but sheer elation.

The invitation landed on your tabletop with a loud slap while you deposited yourself in a nearby chair unceremoniously, glaring at the decorative paper as if it offended you. Actually, scratch that. It did offend you. Greatly so. Honestly, it may as well have come in the form of one of those boxing gloves that sprung out of a box immediately upon opening and decked you square in the face. That’s how much it offended you.

The golden letters inked on the thick paper warmly requested the pleasure of your company to witness the love of Josh Reynolds to Louise Jones six weeks from now. The location stated was a hotel you knew only through word of mouth: one of those fancy establishments that served ridiculously priced plates that were more canapes than actual meals.

You doubted there would be much pleasure from your company.

You and Josh called it quits just over a year ago after a relationship that became increasing rockier, significantly more emotionally exhausting. The two of you started dating in high school and if the relationship started off with nothing but the sort of blinding fiery passion only teens could be capable of, well someone missed the memo on giving you the message that all fires eventually fizzle out. Gradually, it was the only way you could see your relationship heading and it seemed that Josh felt it too. It made the breakup easier: it was neat and mutual. Still, that couldn’t be considered an incentive for either of you to invite each other to such grand, deeply personal events. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he found someone he wanted to tie the knot with so quickly but in retrospect, Josh had always wanted that while you were content as you were. That seemed to be the fork in your road with him.

On the one hand, you were angry at Josh for even considering jotting your name down on the list of attendees and on the other, you were angry at yourself for being angry about that. One moment you were dead set on declining the invite and the next, you considering that doing that would simply show you were bitter and unable to be civil about it. Besides, surely it was noted somewhere in the Rulebook of Ex’s that you just couldn’t do stuff like that. That seemed to just about do it. Like hell you’d given anyone the satisfaction of one-upping you.

You needed a plus one. Desperately.

“Ask your brother then. Pretty sure that’s bound to impress anyone there. It’s not often many will get to say they brushed shoulders with an up-and-coming professional athlete.”

“I don’t need that sort of plus one. If I did, I would’ve asked you—”

“Thanks,” Anna mumbled.”

“—but what I need,” you ploughed on ahead, “is, well, something that can come off a bit more serious looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Saying the word boyfriend won’t jinx you into permanent silence, you know. You need a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend for a day,” you agreed contemplatively.

She picked up the invitation to look through it carefully and after concluding her inspection, she slapped the papers back down on the table, grinning. “Matthew it will be then!”

Your younger brother, Jake, recently signed his entry-level contract with the Calgary Flames, in a way carrying forward the family tradition of starting a career in professional sports with them. Your grandfather did, your father did and now, here you were watching your little brother take on the mantle. Your family’s involvement in sport and, specifically, the team meant that you were somewhat familiar with the organization whether that meant attending home games or a few events arranged by the team. You couldn’t say you were the best of friends with them, certainly nowhere near the level your brother was, but generally speaking you were fond of the C of Red.

That couldn’t also be said about Matthew, however.

It seemed that from the get-go, there was a personality clash between you. At first, you thought it was just Matthew picking on you, joking around as he disagreed with virtually anything you’d say but progressively, you were pretty sure the two of you didn’t even have the compatibility to keep things civil. Matthew had a way with pushing your buttons and it bothered you he could do that with so much ease, though the more you thought of it, the more it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you: you were all too familiar with his on-ice shenanigans, after all. Whenever you knew you had to be under the same roof as him, you’d tell yourself to not let him get under your skin but that resolve would last for all of ten minutes. Fifteen if you had a particularly good day.

Much to your chagrin, it seemed your brother was closest to Matthew. Though you offered the spare room in your apartment, your brother was so warmly welcomed by Matthew. It was no doubt even Jake found your annoyance with his teammate entertaining.

The thought alone was frustrating enough. If one day, by chance, you caught sight of a white strand of hair on your head, you were dead set on blaming Matthew for it. Matthew and his smarmy attitude; Matthew and his smartass retorts; Matthew and the smirks he threw your way whenever your brother took his side, outnumbering you.

You clenched your teeth, glaring at the invite. From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna’s outstretched hand holding your phone out to you. A groan formed in your throat and you wished you kept in contact with the handful of guys you tried dating after Josh. None really stayed. Or better said, none managed to draw you in. It was as if Josh had put a jinx on you. If that was the case, you hoped that this whammy would disappear if it meant watching him watch someone else walk down the aisle towards him.

Anna waved the device at you insistently. “Do it. Come on. Even you know nothing says fuck you like turning up there with Matthew. Scrappy when he wants to be and he’s not bad to look at either. You know it.”

You arched an eyebrow up at her. “More than Johnny?”

She flushed visibly. Johnny and Anna were still a relatively new thing, dancing around their relationship carefully as if they were both doing this rodeo for the first time. It was pretty cute. “Don’t change the subject.” She placed the device down on the table in front of you then patted your shoulder. “I have a feeling you won’t regret it. If he gets on your nerves too much, well…it can’t be worse than watching your ex get married, right?”

“Ouch,” you winced, but chuckled, knowing you were defeated. Matthew was the last resort, and you knew you were at the bottom of your list before you even started going through it. “You do realize if he declines, I’ll probably make a start on packing my bags and moving to Montana, right? The only time you’ll hear from me is when my handwritten letter goes through the nine circles of hell that is our postal service.”

Anna fixed you with a stare that could only read as ‘do it’. “I wouldn’t be so insistent on this if I knew Matthew would say no. I have a feeling he’ll surprise you.”

With a heavy sigh, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through your list of contacts, thumb hovering over his name when it came up. Anna wasn’t wrong: Matthew wasn’t bad to look at all, that much you could admit. But god, if he turned you down…. you knew you wouldn’t be able to ever show your face in front of him or the rest of the team ever again.

“I think I’ve had enough surprises from him to last a lifetime,” you mumbled but tapped the call symbol anyway.

He answered on the third ring. “Hel—

You didn’t let him finish. “I need your help,” you ground out, eyes closing while you rubbed at your forehead with the tips of your fingers.

There was silence on the other end of the line that had you biting your lip in anxiousness. You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this. All it would take would be just hitting the ‘resume my account’ link on one of the dating apps you signed up for a while ago. Someone was bound to be attracted not only to you but the promise of an open bar—

“Music to my ears,” Matthew’s response came through. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and knew you’d regret it; you could easily tell from the tone of his voice.

You sighed quietly, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table, eyes glued to the invitation. Fuck it, you could get someone else; easily, no doubt. The world of online dating was vast and there would always be takers.

“Uh, yeah actually, never mind—”

“No, no. Come on, Y/N. Pretty sure this is the first time you’re calling me first so can we take a moment to just let that sink in?” Silence again, then a chuckle. “Okay, now that we did. How can I help you?”

It wasn’t as if Josh had put you in the position to ask Matthew for a favor but still: fuck Josh, anyway. In a split second of sheer pettiness, you considered aiming to host the most extravagant, unforgettable weddings when your turn would come just to show him who does it better.

“Are you free the third weekend in June?” you asked tiredly.

“Don’t know. Depends what for and who you’re asking for.”

You should’ve asked him face-to-face. At least then, he would’ve had the chance to see you roll your eyes, turn on your heel and walk away. “I’m obviously asking for myself. Could you just be straightforward for once and answer yes or no? You’re making me hold the line for longer than I anticipated and I’m happy to ask someone else,” you lied.

“Let me get this right—” Here comes, you thought exhausted. “You’re calling me for the first time since you have my number to ask me if I’m free the third weekend in June? As a favor for yourself.”

“Matthew, I didn’t stutter—”

“What’s happening in June?”

You don’t know what it was about his words that downed you. It was nothing but a simple question yet the only thing you could think of was: the first boy I’ve dated and so far, the only one, seems to have moved on quicker than I anticipated and while I’m still trying to build myself back up, I’m sitting in my kitchen looking at a wedding invitation and wallowing in self-pity because regardless of how hard I try, of how much I’ve amended my standards, no one seems to do it so what if this is it for me? What if this is just the way it’ll be from now on? And now, I’m resorting to lying just to make myself feel better but also put a façade in front of someone who I know no longer cares about me like that. And really, nor do I about him but here we are. So, nothing much is happening in June, Matthew. Hopefully we get a lot more sunshine though!

What you responded with instead was, “just an old friend of mine getting married and I need a plus one. Nothing serious. Just go there for an hour or two, say some hellos and leave. It’s a quick in-and-out thing.”

More silence on the other end of the line other than the muffled shuffle of what sounded like bedsheets. “Why not ask your brother then?”

“Asked him already, said he’s got something lined up already. So, are you free or not?” you lied, quickly pressing on even if you knew that sounded a lot like desperation.

“For you, at a price.” He was smirking. You knew he was and more than ever, you wished 2021 was the year you could just reach through the phone and shake the person on the other end.

“Uh-huh. Right. No, just forget it. Forget I even—”

You were going to end the call when Matthew laughed, quickly calling out a “no, no! Nothing weird, I promise. Just owe me a favor in return, is all.”

“Do I get a choice?” you mumbled, more to yourself than towards him.

“I think we both know that you don’t. Text me the time and place,” he instructed and then, just as you were really about to end the call, he added, “hey, send me a photo of what you’re wearing also. I’ll match my tie to your dress, free of charge.”

“Can you maybe ditch the jacket while you’re at it? Just want to make sure your tie’s within reach so I can strangle you with it.”

Even after you cut the call, Matthew’s laughter rang in your ears.

Matthew matched his tie to your red dress. The color of the silk around his neck was so striking, you would swear it was made from the same material as your outfit. You sent him a photo of the material of the dress, more as a joke than having any expectations attached to it so you were pleasantly surprised to see he made the effort. For a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in sheer joy knowing that to any eye, the two of you could easily pass as a couple. At least, from looks alone if not from attitude. You were a proud person; fiercely so. Knowing you were now in debt to Matthew however he saw fit dealt a pretty impressive blow to your ego. You don’t let yourself linger too much on that thought, though. It was already difficult enough to loosen up and relax your stance as you climbed into Matthew’s car as soon as he texted you of his arrival.

“You look good,” he commented after you fixed the seatbelt on. He turned in his seat as much as space would allow so he could look at you properly and in return, you arched an eyebrow, refusing to give way to his stare. “Are you trying to one-up the bride?”

“Ha, ha. Funny. You didn’t even see the bride. I didn’t even see the bride.”

“Didn’t see her but I’m seeing you, so,” he shrugged, by way of explanation before correcting his position.

If asked, you wouldn’t deny that Matthew also looked good. Very good. But only if asked. It was impossible that someone with a face like that didn’t know they turned heads easily wherever they went. Matthew’s suit fit him as if it was sown on him. If the two of you had a better relationship, you would even dare ask him what it was he was putting in that hair of his that made it so shiny and gave those curls so much definition, taming them almost perfectly when he really put his mind to it. Whatever it was, you had a feeling he didn’t strain as much as you had earlier that morning to tame your hair and though you could give yourself credit for how well it turned out, your arms weren’t thanking you for it.

Thankfully, much of the drive was pleasant. Though you hated small talk, you decided to make an effort if only to ease your nerves as the navigation system indicated you were drawing closer and closer to that glitzy hotel. You learned that although the season was over, Matthew, Brady and the rest of the family would spend a few weeks in Canada before heading back home to St. Louis. In turn, you told him that some of the days off you booked from work would be spent somewhere just as sunny and warm but with more beaches. It was safe ground. That, you could do although progressively, you were becoming more and more distracted, and less focused on the conversation the two of you managed to keep.

“Want me to pull over?” Matthew asked suddenly.

“What,” you mumbled, turning your attention from the road ahead to Matthew who seemed amused by the situation. “Why would I want you to do that?”

“I’d want you to do that. You look pretty pale and honestly, I’ve just had the interior cleaned so—”

“Fuck you, Tkachuk, keep driving. I’m just a little…cold. How high do you have the AC on?”

He fixed you with a stare while waiting for the lights ahead to turn green, eyebrow arched. “It’s June, Y/N, and uncomfortably warm. If it makes you feel better, though, I could turn it off and we can roll down the windows instead?”

“No, sorry—you’re right. It’s fine. Just leave the AC as it is.”

The laugh he gave was nothing short of incredulous. “Repeat that back for me. Actually—hold on, do that when I can press record on my phone so I can have that on repeat. Did you admit I’m right?”

“God, you’re making me regret inviting you,” you muttered though without heat.

An uncomfortable silence slipped between the two of you or maybe, it was just your perspective on it. Matthew seemed perfectly at ease minding the road, only occasionally throwing a cursory glance towards the car’s navigation system whenever it announced a turn. Doing this seemed more and more like a bad idea. A terrible one. No one would’ve held it against you if you denied the invitation. In fact, you thought that was more expected than accepting it and turning up to the party as if you were seeing an old friend, not an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t too late though. Matthew could still turn the car around.

“Listen, Matt—”

“You have now reached your destination. Your destination is on the right.”

You released a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, then threw a quick look towards the main entrance of the hotel. Already, a few guests whom you recognized were crossing into the lobby.

“You really don’t look okay at all,” Matthew repeated and there was less humor in his voice and more concern this time around. Even you weren’t ignorant to how much your mood kept fluctuating over the course of the drive: often, engaged in conversation but occasionally, withdrawn, barely just catching on to whatever it was Matthew was saying. Sure, he probably didn’t know you well enough to read you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was amiss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I felt like there’s more to this thing than you’re telling me. You could’ve asked your brother, yet you didn’t—”

Damn it. You made him swear to play along. You made a quick mental note to get back at him about it whenever you felt energized enough to do so.

“Matthew,” you said, your voice suddenly clear, tone neutral. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes so instead, you kept your stare fixed on the revolving doors ahead. “I’m only going to say this once and I hope that you won’t make me repeat it now or ever again. I’d prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone either. The person getting married today is my ex-boyfriend. Up until last year, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. I loved him. Since we broke up, I kept trying to look for parts of him in others, but I couldn’t find even a trace of who he was. I feel as I’ve been jinxed, and I felt that maybe if I come today, maybe if I see him with someone else, I can confidently say I’m fine with that. It hurt my pride when I received the invitation, so my first thought was to lie. If, for just a few hours, I can pretend I’ve also moved on and I’m not stuck in this…fucking weird limbo, then maybe it becomes true. A fucked up self-prophecy. So.” You pause, clearing your throat. Your mouth suddenly felt dry from your speech, yet you couldn’t feel a pang of regret in your chest or heat behind your eyes. “So. If you want out, that’s fine. After all, I’m asking you to pretend to be my date out of spite, I guess. And embarrassment. It’s childish and unfair and ridiculous but—”

You came to a halt when you felt a finger under your chin, and a gentle upward push forced you to raise your head up a little more. When you turned towards Matthew, you looked at him with a look of confusion on your face.

“Keep your head up. We have a wedding to go to.”

His encouragement sunk in faster than expected and as your expression relaxed, a smile formed on your face.

Yeah. The two of you had a wedding to go to.

The event hall was decorated minimally yet tastefully. It made everything seem even more personal and you received that impression from every detail: from the flower arrangements to the music, everything was a testament to a life united by love. Maybe your emotional outburst earlier accounted for it, but you felt lighter even as you watched the newlyweds glide along the floor for their first dance. Sure, you felt a desperate pang of want but it was distant. Muffled.

Despite your initial thoughts, having Matthew at your side felt very much like a safety cushion. It surprised you to watch him settle into his role with so much ease that eventually, even you didn’t have to remind yourself to not withdraw whenever his arm wrapped around your waist: sometimes loosely, sometimes a little tighter, reeling you in closer.

Fish, here is your bait, you thought wildly as you stood tucked at his side while he accepted flatteries from one of the guests who swore had been a fan of the Calgary Flames since before he could even talk.

“You must be so proud,” the man turned towards you. “Your family’s truly one of a kind to have all played for the team and now—” He gestures towards Matthew as if to say all of this. “Must be something about those Flames!”

You laughed tightly, just as Matthew squeezed your side. By that move alone, you could tell he was eating this up.

“Yeah, just can’t get enough of them,” you concluded, pitching your voice just a little higher towards the end. To the man, it was as genuine as could be, but Matthew cautioned you silently with the slightest narrowing of his eyes, effectively warning you to be more realistic. “Hey, I’ll get us some refills? Try to be a little more inconspicuous in the meantime. Remember this isn’t your day,” you joked.

“Only practicing for when our turn comes,” Matthew responded without missing a beat and released the hold he had on you.

Once at the bar, you allowed yourself some extra moments to catch your breath. Even off ice, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with. He struck conversation with others easily, drew their attention with seemingly little effort and easily set the mood for whatever situation or person the two of you would run into. A part of you thought his profession had a lot to do with his mannerism, but a bigger part knew different: mostly, it was really just Matthew.

He had a way with words and with people that you haven’t been witness to before and couldn’t help but wonder if it was all show. He was, after all, a face for the public: familiar with interviews, familiar with the attention, apparently not overwhelmed even by less conventional questions. Watching him play this role was fascinating to say the least. It certainly took your mind off the circumstances so credit where credit was due.

“Hey, it’s good to see you here.”

You turned from the bar and came face to face with Josh. His jacket was off, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up past his elbows; behind the knot of his tie, you could see he’d undone the top button of the collar. You’d seen him make countless rounds across the entire floor, greeting guests and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Occasionally, you watched him dance either with his wife, or family members, or even guests you recognized as work colleagues.

You smiled. “Thanks for the invite. It was a bit weird to receive it, I can’t lie about that, but I’m glad you sent it.” It surprised you to learn you weren’t even lying about that. Through the course of the evening, it dawned on you that maybe, it was more the thought of being here that made you anxious; the event itself, however, proved just how right you were. It felt…fine. You felt fine.

“Yeah—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t really sure but, well, before…” He trailed off into a sigh.

You chuckled softly. “Would you like to buy a vowel?”

That made him laugh. Truly, genuinely laugh. “Sorry. I guess it’s a bit weird for me also. But, well, before you and I were, well, you-and-I, we were friends. I would’ve hoped we’d still be friends even after…” He waved a hand in the air by way of explanation but that was sufficient for you.

“Won’t hurt to be friends. Whatever happened between us—well. Thing of the past. Build bridges and get over them, right?”

“Right. Function of a bridge and all.”

“Hey. Congratulations, by the way! I’m happy for you. Really. I wish the two of you all the best. She seems really great.”

“She is,” he agreed and cast a glance towards the room, eyes undoubtedly searching for her. “Are you—”

“Here you are.”

Saved by the bell. A weight fell around your waist that, by now, was warm and familiar. Unconsciously, you leaned into Matthew, flashing a wide smile at Josh. At first, he seemed surprised by the sudden appearance but then his features settled into something more comfortable; something so much like relief that for a moment, you wished you could just come clean about it. You and Matthew were less than meets the eye.

Before you could even introduce them, a kiss was pressed to your cheek, knocking all air from your lungs and almost making you choke because of it.

What the hell.

“You were gone for some time, so I thought to check on you,” Matthew informed you, all matter of fact. To Josh, he said, “congratulations on the wedding. Must be pretty great to finally get to this point. You two look great together.”

“Oh? Yeah. Yeah, thanks man. So glad you could come along today.” Josh turned to you, an eyebrow perked in interest. “I didn’t know you two were together.”

“Oh we’re just—”

You began but were promptly interrupted by Matthew. “We like to keep it lowkey. It hasn’t been that long for us but that’s not much of a problem when your gut tells you this is it. You know it well, right?”

You were entirely caught off guard. Instead of responding immediately, you bought yourself some time by taking a sip from your glass of—whatever it was. Strong though. Just perfect for the situation you suddenly found yourself in: ex-boyfriend ahead, fake boyfriend to the side, promising sweet nothings that you knew would come back to haunt you at some ungodly hour. You wished you could step on his shoe; pull on those shiny curls of his real quick, knock some sense back into him. There was a difference between play a role well and clearly, playing it too well.

Matthew pushed ahead. “It’s pretty good timing for us though. We could take some notes for when our turn comes, right babe?”

“I’ll let the two of you to it, then. Thanks again for coming.” Josh made a move to step away but before he did, he turned to you and caught your eyes. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N. You look good together. Just make sure you don’t take too many notes.”

“Wouldn’t dream to,” Matthew responded, and you could read the slight bite in his words. When Josh was out of earshot, he looked down at you. “You dated him? Just him?”

“Hey, what’d I say about not bringing that up again? And save your dick measuring contests for the locker room, Tkachuk. Now’s not the time nor place.”

“Now’s definitely the time and place,” he countered, making you roll your eyes but there was a smile on your face you couldn’t quite wipe off. “Come on. Let’s continue taking leaves out of their book.” In one swift motion, he took the glass from your hand and set it on the bar while above, the LED lights dimmed, and the playlist switched to a slower song.

You threw him a cautious look, easily reading where that was going. “I’m not dancing.”

“Sure, you are. You want to give the impression of being happily in love? You need to start pulling your weight in this thing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Atlas. Do your shoulders hurt from carrying the burden of our relationship?” you mocked, yet still allowed him to lead you towards the dance floor. Right in the center of it given the bride and groom appeared to sit this one out; you expected nothing less from him. You weren’t even surprised when he made an entire show out of it, forcing you to do a pirouette when the two of you claimed your spot.

“You can’t even imagine the pain you put me through,” he sighed near your ear as the two of you began swaying to the music.

“Well, you’re still standing so clearly it can’t be that bad.”

“Baby, it’s torture.”

You were grateful the two of you weren’t exactly face to face or you were sure Matthew would never have let you live down the flush you felt rising to your cheeks. Sure, he didn’t use the pet name in a genuine manner, but just hearing it roll off his tongue like that… You stopped that thought before it grew into a whole new different monster.

After a few moments of silence passed, Matthew lowered his head closer to yours, his warm breath colliding with the skin on your throat. “Do you think now’s the right time to kiss? Are enough people watching?”

You stepped on his foot. Not hard, but just with the right amount of pressure to draw a wince from him. Satisfied, you leaned back just a little to look at him properly. “Don’t even think about it, Tkachuk—”

“Thought about it already.”

Through clenched teeth, you hissed, “you. Are. Incorrigible.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “If only you could meet yourself.”

You snickered quietly then leaned back against him. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not the most convenient of things… and it wasn’t fair to tell you the full truth of it right on the day of. But—well, thanks.”

“That sounds like it was pretty difficult to let out. It’s very…. heartfelt.”

“Just fucking accept it as I gave it to you, Tkachuk,” you complained, more amused than annoyed.

More silence followed, filled in only by the general buzz of the room and the slow melody. “And now?” Matthew questioned a short while later. You allowed an extended silence to fill in for your confusion. He picked up on it within seconds. “Do you still feel jinxed? Stuck in the same place while he goes on ahead in life?”

You took some time to think through your answer, time during which the song faded into yet another slow one. Matthew didn’t give an indication of wanting to move away from the dancefloor, so you saw no purpose in you doing that.

“Not really,” you concluded. “Just seems like we’re both following different trajectories. Doesn’t mean I’m left behind if I’ve not yet met someone to settle down with like he did. Maybe I just need to be here to come to terms with it. Good for him though. I’m genuinely happy for him and his wife. I think lots of people imagine going through this very same moment.” You ended with a shrug but then, to lighten up the moment, you added, “don’t mock me for it. Between the two of us, I’m the one with the pointy shoes.”

Matthew laughed, a low, pleasant laugh right by your ear. “I’ll give you a free pass for what’s left of today.”

“Your generosity astounds me. Please could you also sign my jersey?”

“Is it my jersey?”

“Why would it be your jersey when I have my last name printed out on one at the expense of my brother being roughed up a little?”

“Don’t tempt me. That favor you now owe me? I might just use it to have you get my jersey so I can sign it since you so generously asked.”

“Your call,” you shrugged. “Just know it’s going straight in the wash right after you scribble on it.”

Matthew took a few small steps back, only to pull you back towards him. You played along and spun as you landed into his hold once again.

“You say that now, but when you’ll see yourself with it—”

“I’ll auction it on eBay.”

The laugh you got out of Matthew stayed with you through the rest of the night and like never before, his good disposition easily transferred to you.

two.

When the elevator doors slid open, your brother and Johnny weren’t the only ones to step into the hotel lobby. Matthew accompanied them, flashing a smug smile as the trio approached and his eyes landed on you. You cast a quizzical glance from your brother, to Johnny, to Matthew and then looked towards Anna as if to ask are you seeing this? She only shrugged at you in silent response, though she was grinning from ear to ear. At least someone was certainly enjoying this.

“Last I remember, there were only two of you,” you commented.

“Was that before or after your third drink?” your brother chirped back.

Instead of humoring him, you shift your gaze to Matthew. “What gives, Tkachuk? Can’t be left at home unsupervised during family vacations?”

“My house training has only gone so far,” he responded smartly, then nodded his head towards Anna and Johnny who were caught in a half-hug, apparently entertaining by watching you and Matthew bicker as if watching a tennis match. “They’re not family.”

Anna feigned a gasp on your behalf. “Y/N and I are part and parcel, Matt. Thought you’d know that by now.”

“Well, the three of us are part and parcel also, Anna. Thought you’d definitely know that by now,” he responded but you were already leading the way out of the hotel lobby and towards the busy square outside.

It was a hub of activity: from street vendors to dance and music performers, there was something to see regardless of which way you looked. Although you arrived at your holiday destination the previous day, the flight south coupled with the warm, sticky evening made you want to steer away from the busier parts of the town. Instead, you opted to lounge by the pool with Anna, having perhaps one too many cocktails to kickstart your vacation. Perhaps you missed Matthew’s arrival at some point then, though for the life of you, you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning he’d come along also. Not that it bothered you greatly.

Since the time you asked him to be your plus one some few weeks ago, the relationship between the two of you warmed slightly. Sure, he still knew which buttons to press to get a reaction out of you, but you saw it as being less ill-intended and more good-natured fun. You kept up with him easily and whenever it felt as if he was cornering you, you conceded with a roll of your eyes but never admitted defeat. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, but something changed on the day of the wedding right around the time you had spilled out your feelings about the entire deal to him. Looking back on it, you found it strange just how easily you did that, no second thoughts, no wishing for takebacks. You knew you owed him the truth given the position you put him in without plenty of heads-up, but you could’ve easily just simplified the entire thing.

It wasn’t difficult to stick together as a group but eventually, you wandered off towards a few stalls on your own that have caught your eye. Though you wanted some more time to have Anna to yourself, it was technically her first vacation with Johnny. You could catch up with her later in the room; surely, she’d have even more swooning to do over him by then. Not that you blamed her. Johnny was an incredible guy.

First, you stopped at a stall selling a range of baked goods that you simply couldn’t turn away from. And for good reason: the sour cherry churro you settled for was a dream come true. From there, you strolled towards a few small stores selling a range of products ranging from colorful graphic tees to earrings made from vibrant, colorful gemstones. You held a blue pair next to your ear, turning one way then another to watch as the light reflected off the gleaming gem.

“Those suit your complexion,” the attendant commented and when you looked towards him, he smiled bashfully.

A gentle heat crept up your neck, unable to keep the grin off your face but you couldn’t look away from him: his skin was lightly tanned, and a dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. His blond hair was messy in a way you could easily tell was styled to appear as such. He was cute in a sort of conventional way, but you liked the way he smiled at you, all shy but certainly genuine.

“Funny you say that. I always had a feeling blue was my color,” you responded, and his smile widened.

“Here for vacation?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just got here yesterday, and I’ll be around for a few days,” you added, a little hopeful.

Hey, if you could score some good company while in the area, then you weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to flirt a little and make good with someone more local.

“Good. That’s really good to know.” He regarded you for a moment and you were certain that caused your blush to deepen though at the same time, it made you feel a little…exposed. “Hey, are you free—”

“The red ones are nicer.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, frustration quickly replacing the feeling of near euphoria. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of all times he could have run into you, the universe fixed it so he popped up when you least needed that to happen.

“I prefer the blue,” you countered, then held them up against your ear again though you knew you didn’t need to double check if they suited you.

“No, trust me with the red,” Matthew insisted, and you saw him appear behind you in the small circular mirror you were looking into. He was so close. “Goes well with that little number I got you the other day.”

You sputtered. “W-what?! Stop messing—”

In the mirror Matthew’s eyes flicked from you to the attendant. “Yeah, you know the one. I left the box on the bed in our room, thought to surprise—”

“Tkachuk, just shut up. There isn’t an our room—”

This was so painfully uncomfortable. So frustratingly annoying, you felt the blood warm in your veins, that familiar wave of anger coursing through your body.

“I’ll ring those up for you,” the attendant said, his voice carefully polite while he accepted the red earrings from Matthew’s outstretched hand.

You hated him. Passionately hated him. It was easy for Matthew to play games like those because he could easily get just about anyone, but you? It wasn’t quite as easy to not be a pro-athlete who had pretty much everything lined up and going for them. You tried catching the store attendant’s eyes again but he was busy accepting the cash from Matthew after packing away the earrings in a small paper bag. You knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it, but it didn’t stop you from casting a longing, apologetic glance towards him before leaving the store.

It felt as if for every two steps you took, Matthew only needed one and despite the crowds, he caught up with you easily, holding out the bag towards you while you powered ahead.

“Come on, don’t be mad. The red ones are definitely better than the blue ones,” Matthew tried to reason with you while holding the hand stretched out to you, insistent on his offer. When you didn’t respond and instead, tried to rush further ahead, Matthew pressed on. Him managing to keep up with your pace only added fuel to the fire. “Don’t tell me you’re upset over Ron Jon back there.”

You came to a halt, turning to glare up at him. “I am, Matthew. You didn’t need to do what you did back there. There was no reason for it. It was shitty of you, and I need you to back off while I try to enjoy the rest of my night.” You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling of anger that normally resulted in tears. “You could at least pretend to be sorry about it.”

With that, you turned on your heel and squeezed your way through the crowds, ignoring Matthew’s calls to stop and come back and that he was only joking.

Too late for that, you thought bitterly, making a turn towards a street popular for its dining and bar venues.

The part of the archipelago more popular with tourists was truly a sight to behold as the sun went down, coloring the sky in some of the warmest, most calming shades of orange, red and yellow you ever saw. It seemed as if everyone gathered on the promenade, phones at the ready while taking photos of the sky, selfies and group shots. Even you couldn’t resist it and after taking a few well-centered selfies, a passing couple offered to take your photo which you immediately posed for.

Later, once the sight sunk in, you moved towards a nearby bar, first attracted by the pink, purple and blue neon lights and then, the music. A good cocktail, good music and a gorgeous sunset were all it took for you to feel more relaxed, leaving behind the event from earlier. He wouldn’t be the first cute guy you’d see, nor the last and indeed, it was easy for you to settle in the more crowded area of the locale where people were dancing either solo, with a partner or as part of a group.

Not long after you weaved your way onto the dancefloor, you felt a pair of hands settle on your hips, drawing you in. You went easily, accepting the embrace, accepting the way you were being led into the dance, swaying your hips along with his. You didn’t even miss a beat when he spun you around, but you kept your hands pressed against his shoulders, rather than wrapping your arms around his neck. You were tipsy, no doubt, and admittedly felt touch-starved but you weren’t quite in the mood for anything more. You even dodged his mouth when he tipped his head down to your lips so instead, he landed a kiss on your cheek. Still, he was pretty relentless. The dance took a turn that was significantly more sensual, crossing a line into discomfort, and you felt that was your cue to try and remove yourself from him. It was easy initially. You threw him a small smile and when he caught hold of your hand, you simply motioned you were only going to get a drink, hoping that would keep him where he was with the knowledge you would return.

When you finally pulled away, you made a bee line towards the exit of the venue but again, you were a step too slow. The guy caught you just at the door.

“Where are you running off to, pretty?” he slurred, his voice louder above the thumping of the music.

“Oh—Um, just getting a breath of fresh air, is all,” you said quickly and immediately wished you didn’t venture off in a place like this alone. It was as if you suddenly forgot everything that was common sense, pushed towards it by earlier frustration.

“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He frowned, but there was no clarity in his eyes. He was entirely out of it and his fingers squeezed painfully around your wrist. You flinched visibly, squirming under his touch and even if you tried pulling your arm away, it was useless. He overpowered you even through the drunken haze. “Wanna go? Fine, then let’s go together.”

“No—uh, I’m actually here with my friends. I’ve just—I saw them so I’m going to catch up with them. They must be looking for—”

“Then we can go to them together, sweetheart. Here, point them out to me.”

“No, really. I’m going to them alone,” you emphasized and put all your force into trying to free your hand. It may have taken him by surprise that led to his loosened grip, but as soon as you turned on your heel, you found out there was more to it than just that.

You almost faceplanted right into Matthew’s chest when you tried making a run for it. He stood there, eyes flicking between you and the guy with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was hammering wildly in your chest and instinctively, you almost glued yourself to his side. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to force a move on you, but it was the first time it was done so in such a thoughtless, drunken manner. Perhaps your fear was also enhanced by being alone in an unfamiliar place. To see Matthew this time felt like a blessing.

“Babe,” Matthew said by way of greeting, pulling you to him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You didn’t realize you were trembling until you stood so close to him, legs suddenly feeling like jelly in front of your salvation. Matthew could easily overpower the guy; even if they were roughly the same height, there was a big difference between the body of an athlete and the swaying one of a drunk guy. Still, it didn’t mean you wanted Matthew to get caught up in anything he’d later regret or would affect him in any way, so you pressed a hand to his chest trying to put some pressure into guiding him away from the scene.

“She yours?” the drunk guy slurred, head tilting back, chin pointing towards your general direction.

“Yeah. So, guess that makes the situation even worse for you,” Matthew responded. His tone was light, seemingly non-threatening to someone who didn’t know him but you did. You knew him and you could read him crystal clear in this moment.

“Matthew, please,” you muttered, looking at him almost desperately while trying to put all your body weight into guiding him away.

The guy scoffed. “You’ve gotta do better than that, buddy.” He snickered. “You’ve gotta keep ‘em on a tighter leash unless you want them to go—”

Matthew made a move towards him, but you quickly stepped in front of him, essentially forcing him to halt. “Matt, please. Let’s go, okay? Please. I really want to leave. Right now.”

He glared at the guy for a moment longer but the hard look in his eyes softened as soon as his gaze fell on you. You took the liberty of placing most of your weight against Matthew, allowing him to remove both of you from the situation and towards a less crowded area. That was easy to find: with the sun having long set, most of the crowds cleared away from the promenade so there was plenty of space for you to collect yourself in peace.

He didn’t pry into the situation, didn’t even make any smartass comments. Instead, he let you slip away from under the safety of his arm while you pace around a small area, trying to work off the anxiety as much as you could. You had to count your breaths, remind yourself to breathe in then out slowly. You were okay. You were far from that guy, and he couldn’t hurt you. At least, no more than he already did. Your wrist felt a bit sore, but you’d take that over anything worse.

“You okay?” Matthew asked at last, tone careful. “I can go back there and pull him out, you know, get him to apologize.”

“No!” you said loudly, desperately, then cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “No, don’t go. Please. I just need a moment, that’s all. Just a little. Could you not leave? I’ll be fine in a moment. Just—just need to catch my breath—"

“Hey, hey—relax. It’s over. He can’t put a hand down on you now, or ever.” Matthew took a few steps closer to you as if apprehensive to approach you in the first place. You knew what you must’ve looked like: pale, still shaken by what happened. He held a hand towards you, palm up. “Can I touch you?”

You looked from it to his face, then said, “don’t get any funny ideas,” but it lacked your usual punch. You took his hand though, letting yourself be drawn to him. Matthew smelled like the sea. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d gone down to the beach earlier to take a dip. You wished you did that rather than try and drink your frustration over missing out on a random guy. God, you could sleep right here if sleeping while standing was a thing. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did before—with, uh—what did you call him?”

Matthew chuckled, a low, deep chuckle. “Ron Jon.”

“You’re awful, Tkachuk.”

“And you have a funny way of expressing gratitude.”

“Sorry—”

He laughed louder. “I’m messing with you.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry I rained on your parade earlier with the guy back then. If you really liked him…” He trailed off, as if to let you fill in the sentence for him.

You laughed weakly, waving a hand dismissively. “Thanks. Again. Seems like nowadays, I just keep having to thank you for one thing or the other.”

You felt him shrug. “Fine by me. You keep adding to these favors you owe me.”

“It’s only one. Well. Two if you want to be a dick and count this one too.”

You took a step back, detaching yourself from him to run both hands through your hair. You felt exhausted, drained of energy yet relieved. Who would’ve thought you’d be pleased to see Matthew pull another one of his appearing out of the blue acts?

“You give me no other choice but to be one,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. Everyone’s wondering where you were, so you kind of lost your right to vote on dinner for tonight.”

You sighed heavily. “Let me guess: you all ganged up on me in my absence and settled on lobster?”

Matthew grinned. “Can’t vacation in a seaside town and skip out on that.”

“Ugh. Sea critters.” You pulled a face, drawing yet another laugh from Matthew. It made you feel oddly accomplished but you cut that train of thought there, forcing it to derail elsewhere, to place more familiar to you, more comfortable. “Matthew, I mean it when I said thank you. That was—it was scary,” you admitted as the two of you started walking back towards the hotel. You pulled your wrist into your hand, rubbing at the skin gently. Focused on the road ahead, you missed Matthew frowning down at the gesture. “I don’t know how that happened. It’s just—it’s not my thing to do. Go out alone, especially in a place like that. Good instincts by the way,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t want to think about it again if I can help it.”

You cast a confused stare in his direction but by then, it was his turn to look ahead, a frown marring his features. You didn’t push any further though.

Later that night, after you and Anna decided to call it a day and switch off the lights, you lay in bed glancing a look up at the ceiling above. You didn’t think back on the evening’s events but rather, thought back to how a familiar small brown paper bag was taped to your room’s door before dinner. Anna had fixed you with a knowing stare as you plucked it off the door, tipping its contents into the palm of your hand.

Then, you thought how during dinner, Matthew had claimed the seat next to yours and complimented the earrings you wore, remarking how awfully familiar they seemed though he could swear he didn’t know where from. For the first time, you had an inside joke to share with him and neither of you bothered to offer any clarifications to everyone else around the table as they tried to press for details.

three.

The Flames’ first game of the season was scheduled to take place in Las Vegas and with a few days left of vacation, you couldn’t skip on the opportunity to return to the city you were inexplicably fond of, as well as watching your brother play on the third line. The night promised to be unforgettable, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. Although there were plenty of things to keep you busy throughout the day, your eyes would occasionally wander down to your watch, counting down the hours until the start of the game. It seemed like most of the city was doing the same.

Often, you’d spot handfuls of people donning Knights jerseys and occasionally, there would be a few Flames fans wandering the streets and locales. You’d only spotted one person wearing your brother’s jersey but that was more than enough for you – he was a fairly new face in the professional league, but he certainly pulled his weight during every shift he had on ice whenever given the opportunity. Luckily, you managed to take a quick photo of their back before they disappeared into the crowds, sending it to your brother along with a thumbs-up emoji.

He didn’t respond immediately, nor did you expect him to. You could only imagine how quickly he racked up pre-game nerves and he had a pretty strict routine, which included avoiding his phone until after the game. You couldn’t really make sense of superstitions even if each member of your family who played, whether professionally or otherwise, had their own. Naturally, you were surprised when your phone pinged, indicating a new message almost half an hour later. Except, it wasn’t quite who you were expecting.

Matthew is that your way of saying good luck?

You frowned, but all it took was a little more attention on your part to notice you hadn’t sent the message to your brother but rather, to Matthew. Lately, he was one of your top contacts for frequent messaging.

You wrong number

You good luck to you too though, i guess :/

Matthew busy?

You don’t you have practice to get to?

Matthew [attachment: photo of an ice rink where a few players were captured in motion]

Matthew [attachment: photo of his skates, taken from the players’ bench]

Matthew on break, where are you?

You hanging around

Matthew what are you wearing?

You [emoji: middle finger]

Matthew ice cold

Matthew nice, i can handle ice cold

You then go handle ice cold so you don’t get handled tonight

Matthew wish me luck too

You i already did

Matthew i need it twice, it’s my superstition

You that’s a bullshit superstition

Matthew if we lose tonight, it’s on you

You [emoji: angry face]

You good luck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Matthew :)

You dropped your phone on the table with a low groan, slouching in your chair. From across the table, Anna shot you a confused stare which quickly morphed into understanding when you rolled your eyes, shooting your phone a look of frustration as if the device itself was to blame.

“Anything interesting?” she asked in a singsong tone.

“If you count Matthew being his usual self interesting, then that’s what’s up. Otherwise, nothing new.”

“By his usual self, do you mean engaging? Funny? Witty? So good with his words that he yet again takes your attention and keeps it while the rest of us, mere mortals, struggle to do that for longer than a few minutes tops?”

You arched an eyebrow, somewhat amused. “All that – just empty words.”

Anna leaned back in her seat, taking her glass with her while twirling the straw, looking ahead somewhat thoughtfully. “You know what the two of you remind me of? Those two kids in the playground who think love can only be expressed through pulling hair and making snide remarks.”

“First of all, that’s a shitty way of trying to get someone to realize you have feelings for them and second of all, love is a pretty big word. You managing to carry it okay?”

“Okay, maybe not love. But like? It has to be like. Say what you want to say but it looks different from the outside.”

“Okay, you keep staying out there and let me know what you’re seeing. I like your imagination. Very vivid,” you commented but there was no bite to your words and Anna threw her head back with laughter.

You didn’t think much of your exchange with Matthew throughout the rest of the day, nor did you try to linger too long on Anna’s interpretation of your relationship with Matthew. You let it wash over you, knowing it’d give her too much satisfaction if you fretted too much over it and anyway, many of your thoughts seemed to fly towards the evening’s game.

By the time the two of you made your way to the arena, however, you moved from anxiety to excitement within the space of mere moments, apparently. Even if this wasn’t your first rodeo and you’d been to countless games before, there was nothing quite like the thrill of an opening game. You and Anna had spaces reserved in the upper stands along with other family members and significant others but both of you chose to watch the warm-ups close-up, so you hung around by the glass at ice level.

The Vegas Knights and the Flames stepped on the ice to a combination of cheers and the thump of a loud electronic mix. You spotted your brother almost instantly. He did a quick lap around the team’s half of the ice before pulling a puck towards him with his stick, sliding it this way and that before shooting it over towards the net. Once sufficiently warmed up, he cast a searching look around the rink and you quickly waved both arms up in the air to try and get his attention. You knew he’d spotted you, but he made an entire show out of looking over you until you smacked a hand against the panel. You knew the sound wouldn’t be heard over the general noise of the arena, but he still laughed. When he skated over, you held your phone up, giving it a quick shake and mouthing “selfie?”.

He flashed a thumbs up and you quickly turned around to take the photo, but it wasn’t until you inspected it afterwards that you noticed you were photobombed by Matthew himself. You had every intention to look up from the screen and somehow try and get his attention only to glare at him, but he was a step ahead. You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed Matthew standing right there by the glass, smirking at you.

“Asshole,” you mouthed, not daring to voice it out given you were surrounded by kids.

Matthew winked, skated to collect a stray puck then threw it up over the boards towards one of the kids standing right next to you. The kid was clearly thrilled by the gesture, bouncing up and down with the puck held over his head as if it were a trophy. You couldn’t help it: your heart melted at the sight, so you simply nodded once at Matthew, apparently just in time as the warm-up countdown reached zero.

You weren’t surprised the home team were putting on such a show for the opening night. There was a little bit of Vegas in every opening act: from the fireworks set off outside the arena to the showgirls and mind-blowing animations projected down on the ice, it felt more of a Stanley Cup playoff game than the start of a regular season game. This was Vegas and no one did it quite like Vegas did, you had to give that to them.

Both teams were almost evenly balanced throughout the first period but stepping out of intermissions and into the second, the Flames started powering ahead. It was as if something had clicked together even better and they functioned as a well-oiled machine, both in offence and defense. By the end of that period, they were leading the Knights 3-2 and you were more than elated your brother had earned himself an assist. Like all games, tensions formed quickly, and the third period saw both teams play aggressively. On several occasions, you caught sight of players clearly chirping each other even while heading towards their respective benches after the end of a shift. Once, Matthew seemed to be involved in a seemingly endless yelling match with a player on the opposing team. There were more checks against the panels, an impressive number of penalties drawn by both teams, and it felt as if the atmosphere was just tethering towards a fight.

It happened right after the Flames scored the fourth goal with just two minutes left of the game.

The moment the puck was dropped at center ice, you watched as Matthew charged ahead towards one of the Knights players who didn’t hesitate to drop the gloves. Between them, Matthew had the faster instinct, and he landed the first punch, effectively forcing both players to fall to the ice while the referees scrambled to try and split them apart. They were there a moment too late, just mere seconds after you caught sight of knuckles scraping along Matthew’s mouth on the big screens above. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a graze but once he was separated and made his way towards the Flames bench, you noticed several spots of blood on his jersey on the screens above that made you almost jump out of your seat.

Sure, this was a familiar sight, but it didn’t alleviate the sheer shock and restlessness. Whatever had happened between them must’ve been a pretty big deal to set Matthew off the way it did. There was no way of sugarcoating it: the fight was vicious. More than ever, you wanted the period countdown to reach zero so you could go down to the lockers. It wasn’t just a few nagging feelings towards Matthew that led you to react the way you did. He was a friend, after all, so worrying for him was simply natural. An expected way of responding to a situation like that.

“He had it worse before, remember?” Anna reminded you as you followed the small stream of relatives and friends down towards the players’ rooms.

“Still looked pretty bad to me,” you responded, briefly pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Before she could continue being the voice of reason, you added in a light tone, “I just want to see if he had any teeth knocked out of his mouth this time around.”

It took some time before the players filed out and as you watched them come out one by one, you almost wished you saved this for somewhere less…well, public. Sure, you were just a friend checking on a friend, but you wished you could do that without an audience.

Your brother emerged first, beaming, no doubt pleased with the win, and you hugged him tightly, easily sharing his joy.

“He’s just getting ready to come out now,” he informed you, heading nodding back towards the locker.

You blinked. “What? Oh—no, I’m just. I was waiting for you to say congratulations. What are you even talking about,” you mumbled but inevitably, your eyes were drawn towards the locker room as the door swung open and Matthew stepped out.

His hair was still damp but already curling again. He was dressed in the same suit he probably arrived in, a simple light grey number that fit him perfectly. He had his backpack on also and in one hand, he carried an apparently ice-cold bottle of water while the other was pressing an ice pack to the corner of his mouth. When you made eye contact, he frowned lightly and for a moment, seemed almost hesitant to approach you. This time, you were a step ahead and cornered him before he decided to walk away.

You nodded your head once, indicating in his general direction. “What? You’re trying to add to the family’s hefty dentist bill by getting a few teeth knocked out already?”

Matthew shrugged. “It’s not hockey without a few scraps now and then.”

“For a guy who got a goal and an assist, you sure don’t look too pleased with that.”

At that comment, Matthew’s expression shifted, lightening up considerably. “Are you keeping track of my stats now?”

“What? No, Tkachuk. I was doing what everyone else in that arena was doing: paying attention generally speaking.”

Suddenly, his entire face scrunched up in pain and he almost doubled over as he groaned. Instinctively, you reached out for him, eyes widening a little when bending down a little to try and look at his face.

“Oh my god—Matthew. Are you okay? Do you need me to get a medic to check—”

You frowned as soon as you felt his shoulders tremble under your touch. Slowly, it dawned on you he was laughing. Laughing. You slapped his shoulder lightly, the gesture more a tap than anything else and you started walking down the corridor quickly, trying to catch up with everyone else as they filed out of the arena.

“Hey, hey, wait, Y/N! Come on, don’t be mad,” he called out after you and you heard him jog to catch up with you. When he did, he took a couple more steps ahead then stepped in your path, walking backwards to match your pace. “I was only messing around. I couldn’t not do that. You should’ve seen your face, honestly.”

“My face? Hope you’ve seen yours. I’m not mad. Me being mad would basically mean you managed to get to me which you really didn’t, so don’t give yourself any credit, Tkachuk,” you responded. “You just reminded me you’re still a dick so thanks for that.”

“Give me a free pass. I’m injured.”

“If you’re searching for sympathy, you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” you informed him, side stepping him so that he resumed walking at your side instead. After a few moments of silence, you conceded with a sigh. “Seriously speaking. How’s your mouth?”

“Don’t think I’ll need fillers, let’s just say.” He removed his hand from his mouth, and you looked over.

Thankfully, it seemed that putting ice on it quickly was paying off. The area was somewhat red, but no significant damage seemed to be visible to the untrained eye. He was certainly miles better than he was just months ago.

“Looks okay, I guess,” you shrugged. “What happened? Honestly, it looked pretty intense from the outside.”

Matthew didn’t respond and you didn’t press him for details even after you stepped out into the balmy Vegas night. If he chose to not share with you, then you guessed it must’ve been either pretty personal or pretty stupid. You leaned more towards the former. You didn’t even complain when he followed you to the car you hired, claiming the passenger seat. Before you also stepped inside, a message pinged in from Anna informed you she had taken off with Johnny for dinner but promised to be back in the room in a few to catch up.

You didn’t start the engine when you fixed your seatbelt and instead, leaned your head back against the rest, watching a few other vehicles pull out of the car park. In his seat, Matthew was looking out of the window to his left, heading resting against a loosely formed fist propped up against the door.

“He was talking shit about you,” he said at last, but didn’t turn to you when he spoke.

“Who was?”

“The guy on the other team. He made a comment about you towards your brother at the end of the shift. Something about… I don’t know, something crude, vulgar. Don’t really remember it.”

You didn’t quite believe him on the last part, but you allowed it anyway. “Okay… Well, I don’t know the guy anyway, so it didn’t matter, Matthew. You should have let it slip by or left my brother to deal with it.” Then, out of curiosity, you asked, “why didn’t you?”

More silence. Occasionally, the muffled sound of a passing car would cut through it but it, too, would be gone in seconds.

“Because I couldn’t.”

You pursed your lips and your fingers clenched then unclenched in your lap. You placed your hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them away before settling them back on it after starting the engine.

“Thanks, I guess. You just keep making me owe you favors.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“So, I’ll clear that now with dinner. Just please don’t tell me you’re going to need to be on a smoothie diet. I’ll feel bad eating something really good while you’re there with a strawberry and banana drink. Not that I’d stop eating though, just so you know. But it’s the thought that counts,” you said and finally, finally he chuckled quietly.

“No smoothie diets this time.”

You sighed dramatically. “Maybe no smoothie diets ever?”

Matthew shrugged. He was still not meeting your eyes but that was okay. “Can’t promise that. Kind of comes with the job. Just in case though, I like the sweeter stuff more. Triple chocolate, Oreo pieces, peanut butter.”

“Thanks, Matthew. I’ll file that under information I don’t care to know about.”

“I’m injured. Show some sympathy,” he demanded without heat, finally turning to you.

You cooed then reached out with one of your hands to pat his cheek lightly. “Aw, really searching for it in the wrong place.”

“I’ll make do with what I can get,” he allowed, and you could swear he leaned into your touch, but you tore your hand away before either of you got too comfortable.

four.

Matthew called in his favor after a few of his teammates agreed where to host their Halloween party.

“Kind of sounds like you’re the one asking for a favor,” you commented, planting yourself at your kitchen table while securing the phone between your ear and shoulder.

Matthew sighed on the other end. “Sort of. Who does a themed Halloween party anyway? The theme itself is Halloween.”

“You’re not wrong about that. Could be fun though, a bit more unique. So, what’s the theme for this year?”

“Couple outfits,” Matthew replied without hesitation.

You stilled and were grateful he wasn’t in the same room as you. It took you a great deal more energy over the course of the past few months to convince yourself that Matthew didn’t attract you in one way or another. His looks aside, it was rare you came across someone who could easily keep up with your snide remarks and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that there was more to Matthew than just being a typical athlete with his share of well-deserved fame. He was funny, dedicated and undoubtedly, caring. You had some first-hand experience with the latter. After all, he didn’t owe you anything to make him obligated to jump into whatever weird situation you found yourself in.

You warmed to him little by little. If you found him attractive, well that was for you alone to know though it made everything just that more difficult. Thankfully, Matthew seemed pretty oblivious to it or at least, he was doing a good job at pretending he didn’t catch you staring at him on several occasions or the few times you took a discrete step back if it felt like you were too close to him. Knowing he was asking you to go together as a couple (pretend couple, you corrected yourself) only added to the difficulty of coming to terms with your…crush.

Puppy love, you assured yourself. It’ll go as quickly as it came.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, still here. Guess it sucks another year will go by without the opportunity to bring out your Fortnite costume.”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t dress like a game character!”

“Matthew,” you warned.

There was a pause, then, “okay, fine. Maybe I would. So, can you come?”

You shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “I owe it to you, don’t I?”

“Great! Hey, choose something good for us. There’s going to be a prize for best dressed and I have my eyes on it.”

“I think we can both agree my creativity will not let us down. I’ll text you my idea. You just make sure you actually stick to it, so I don’t end up looking stupid.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, “I won’t dump you on Halloween.”

“Good to know I won’t end up traumatized and have my favorite holiday ruined,” you said, by way of goodbye.

“Hey, spin around for me once. You look good. Blonde’s not bad on you.”

“No color’s bad on me,” you responded but refused to entertain Matthew by complying with his request. Instead, you rang the bell to Noah’s apartment after the door didn’t budge when Matthew tried the handle.

“Come on, just a spin,” Matthew insisted, nudging his elbow into your own then pressed the doorbell himself once again – hard, as if that would make it ring louder.

“Only if you dance for me and do the entire Greased Lightning choreography without missing a step.”

Matthew feigned a groan and you shot him an amused look. Before you could even comment on that, the door opened, and Noah stood at the threshold. The ruckus from inside spilled out into the corridor and from what you could see beyond him, it was a full house of all sorts of characters.

“Wow! Sandy and Danny! Finally, someone with really good taste,” Noah said by way of greeting and he looked towards you pointedly.

You flashed him a grin. “Always a pleasure to exceed expectations,” you responded and stepped into his open arms, a clear invitation for an embrace that was shortly broken apart by Matthew.

“Hey, none of that man,” he said, pulling you back and easily holding most of your weight as you broke into a laugh that had you stumbling into his side. “I didn’t even get to tell her she’s the one that I want.”

“Yeah, well, you better shape up ‘cause I need a man,” you responded, without missing a beat though you couldn’t help but replay his words in your mind. They sounded a lot like a broken record that you desperately wished to stop immediately before this…thing went way too far and spun out of control.

You were both led towards a photo wall and if you had any nerves about striking good poses without at least some liquid courage first, all that vanished. To your surprise, Matthew easily took the lead initially, falling to his knees in front of you in an attempt to recreate the part where a smitten Danny fell before Sandy, completely and utterly overwhelmed by her presence. Despite it being difficult to control your laughter, you played along with ease. At first, you were simply grinning down at him but you couldn’t let all his in-character effort go to waste, so you turned, casting a glance down towards him over your shoulder. To your side, Noah’s flash was going off every few seconds as he tried to capture the two of you from the best angle, together with cheers of encouragement. For your second pose, you rested your arms on Matthew’s shoulders once he rose back to his full height and his hands held on to either side of your torso. Again, the flash went off and again, the two of you changed pose into something more casual: him, standing behind you with his palms on your hips while you place a hand on his face, grinning at the camera. The flash went off again and he whooped loudly.

“I’m never inviting both of you to a party with this theme again,” Noah muttered, feigning disgruntlement. “You can’t come into my home and kill it like that.”

“Blame the one who came up with this idea in the first place,” Matthew defended, holding both hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence.

It was true. The idea to dress as Danny and Sandy from Grease came to you fairly quickly. You knew the two were a popular go-to, but you enjoyed the movie greatly. Plus, it was a great opportunity for you to pull out a pair of red heels you invested a hefty sum of money into. And, well, admittedly there was something about Matthew that made you think he’d suit the role just fine. When you shared your idea with him, he was on board from the start without complaining or suggesting alternatives. You were grateful for that: when Matthew picked you up earlier, dressed in an all-black outfit, leather jacket and hair styled to rival John Travolta’s, you gave yourself a mental pat on your shoulder. If any photos would go up on the internet, you were pretty sure Instagram would be grateful to you. Certainly, you knew Chantal and Keith would get a kick out of it for sure.

“Guilty as charged,” you acknowledged. “I’m going to look for Anna. Catch you later.” You gave a wave to the both of them before making your way towards the hub of activity where couple costumes ranged from peanut butter and jelly to superheroes.

She was fairly easy to locate, in part because she told you she and Johnny would dress as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. The red, blue and gold of her outfit were unmissable even in a sea of costumes. As soon as she spotted you approaching, she made a beeline and wrapped an arm around yours.

“Tell me you and Matthew will recreate the entire You’re the One That I Want scene,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that at some point this evening, you’ll tell us to clear the dancefloor so the two of you can have your moment.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging her along towards a table hosting drinks and small bites. “There’s no moment we’re going to be having.”

“Because you don’t want to or because you want to so badly that you don’t know how to ask him? I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”

“Neither,” you muttered but even you’d be able to hear the lack of conviction in your tone from a mile away.

To take your mind off it, you poured yourself a glass of red wine, taking a tentative sip from it. Across the room, Matthew had deposited his black leather jacket away and started making rounds around the room. You took a longer sip from your wine and looked away.

Anna fixed you with a knowing stare which you refused to acknowledge, but she knew you like the back of her hand. “It’s okay to say you like him, you know,” she advised, and you hated the soothing tone she tried to take when saying that. It felt more pitying than anything, as if you hadn’t already had your share of disappointments in love—or, relationships better said.

“Who said anything about liking him? He’s not bad to look at I’ll admit, but that’s where it stops.” You frowned, looking out of the nearest nearby window that gave a broad view of the city below. “That’s where I want it to stop,” you admitted, this time quieter.

You were well aware that you were occasionally trying to look for a narrative that was most convenient for late night thoughts when you had the peace and privacy to think of him as you wished. The reality couldn’t be more different, though, and you knew that. Matthew was helpful to you before because he was good friends with your brother and eventually, you realized that it was just part of his nature. Beyond being successful, beyond his fame and recognition, Matthew was kind and funny and respectful. It was just that you didn’t give him the chance to before and now that you got to know him better, you suddenly realized that…what? You’d like the first man who gives you a helping hand? If that were the case, you should’ve gotten the memo sooner: it would’ve been easier liking the tech guy from work who once debugged your laptop.

It wasn’t doing you any good to try and look for a ‘but’ in every situation: Matthew is helpful because he’s good friends with my brother but it’s not like that should force him to act as if we’re romantically involved not once or twice or thrice but now, four times. Regardless of how you looked at it, that reeked of desperation. You were in that weird period in your life where it felt as if everyone around you was in a relationship, so maybe that mood translated to you.

That’s right, you settled. That’s what was possibly behind these thoughts of yours. You found Matthew attractive – and what? So did plenty of other people. You saw him surrounded by girls after practice, after matches, while out. What you felt was nothing special. It felt easier to think of it that way, even if for a few hours to truly enjoy the party without having that lurking at the back of your mind.

You mingled easily, danced with Anna, danced with other players’ girlfriends and wives, danced with your brother, even attempted a few traditional Russian dances taught by Nikita, Artyom and a few of their friends, that left you breathless by their rapid pace and intricate footwork.

“I’m done!” you declared, breathless and almost swaying on your feet when another Russian folk song came to an end but thankfully, you managed to hold steady before you could catch a ride on the hot mess express. “Absolutely wasted. Knocked out.” You stepped away, tired but euphoric and dropped rather unceremoniously on one of the available couches pushed against a wall.

“Having fun?” Matthew asked and there was a light flush on his cheeks you knew wasn’t from dancing. There was even just a slight slur to his speech.

“The most,” you replied, breathless, and accepted the drink he held out to you. You took a sip without questioning him what was in the glass, only to find out for yourself he was settling for harder stuff tonight. “But never let it be said that anyone can keep up with Russians because let me tell you,” you whistled quietly, “we’re a couple of steps behind. Plenty of steps behind, actually.”

Matthew flashed a lazy smile and you briefly spared a moment to envy him for how kept together he remained despite being evidently buzzed. “’s okay. At least we’re the better dressed ones so we lose in style.”

You took another sip from his glass, holding it out to him with a smirk. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in what you hoped was a low, alluring tone of voice but no sooner did you think that, and you were reduced to embarrassed laughter. “Forget about that! Forget it, forget it! Where’s the delete button?”

“I didn’t come equipped with that,” he declared proudly, finishing off what was left of his drink. “C’mere, you can show me a couple of those steps you learned.”

He stood, a little unsteadily initially then held a hand to you. You knew he wouldn’t have the strength to pull you up properly, so you stood easily fully intent to actually lead him through some of the steps. Except, Matthew was definitely swaying more than you thought he would. There was something inexplicably amusing about the situation and instead of directing him towards the center of the room, you steered him away from it and towards a small bathroom you were shown to earlier that night when you needed some time to re-touch your makeup.

“Where’re we going?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder towards the living room with a look that could only be read as longing.

“To cool down a little and then you can learn as many folk dances as you want. Believe me, you need to be alert for them. Can’t miss a step,” you advised, trying to steady him by wrapping an arm around him though the difference in weight between the two of you couldn’t compare. Still, you managed to get him into the bathroom safely without either of you making a mess of yourselves or the room.

“Are you gonna cool down too?” he questioned.

“Sure thing, definitely need it.”

“Good, we’ll cool down together.” With that, he made a move to open the glass partition for the shower cubicle but thankfully, you were significantly more alert than he was and managed to prevent him from doing anything more than that.

“Not that sort of cool down. Here, sit here,” you encouraged, lowering the lid on the toilet so Matthew could drop down. You doubted you’d be able to hold much of his strength above the sink if you were to help him splash some cold water on his face.

“But I want that sort of cool down,” he slurred. “With you. Us two. You said you want to cool down too. Could be a couple activity.” He grinned, as if proud of himself.

Thankfully, Matthew was buzzed enough to miss the flush on your face, the slight shake of your hand as you arranged a towel around his neck to prevent too much overspill before turning the tap on.

“Can’t do that, Matthew. Here, this will be much better, I promise.”

“Wanna try though,” he mumbled but was still compliant as you pressed a wet, cool palm against his forehead, then either of his cheeks. “Not cool enough.” His complaint was accompanied by a frown which only morphed into a lazy smirk when he leaned back, trying to pull you with him. “C’mon, Y/N. It’s a couple’s Halloween night.”

“Matthew, we’re not a couple,” you said gently, pushing your palms against his shoulders in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. Before it was too late. Before you allowed yourself to get drawn into a drunk man’s ramblings.

“But I wanna be. A couple, with you.”

You put all your strength into breaking away from his hold and thankfully, managed to do so. Your heart was hammering in your chest as if desperately trying to release itself from the cage of your ribs.

“Matthew, you’re drunk. Here, splash some cold water on your face so you can come back to your senses.”

“But I’m not drunk,” he insisted and as if to demonstrate, he stood up quickly. He swayed on the spot, stretching out his arms a little and once he found his footing, he looked towards you with an expression that mixed pride with hopefulness. “See? Definitely okay—”

You frowned, feeling a little caged in. You should’ve left the door open at least. “Okay, then let’s go back out there, yeah? I can get an Uber and I’ll take you home if you prefer that?”

“Yes,” he said, then leaned back against the door. “Only if you come with me.”

You exhaled, suddenly tired as if the exchange was working every ounce of energy out of you. “I’ll come to make sure you’re okay and can make it to your bed okay.”

“I can though. I can definitely make it there even on my own and you know why? Because I’m not drunk,” Matthew insisted and when you shot him a look of disbelief, he peeled himself away from the door. “Look, look I can prove it to you I’m not drunk.”

Before you could even ask him to walk a straight line without stumbling his steps, Matthew’s arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand pressed on the back of your head, bringing you closer until your lips met. Kissing Matthew was like everything you imagined and more. He even did that with the same passion with which he skated on ice, chasing puck after puck. It left you breathless how well he worked his lips against your own as if all along, he knew how to do that in such way that it’d leave your legs feeling like jelly. Beyond that though, it felt comfortable. Not forceful despite him having not asked if he could do it in the first place, yet it still felt right. You tasted sweetness on his mouth and the sharp tang of whiskey. Vaguely, you knew nothing else could compare. It was that thought that made you push away from him with as much force as you could muster, ducking under his arm and towards the door.

“I’ll ask someone to take you home,” you said without even looking his way before leaving dashing out of the bathroom.

“You okay?” Anna asked you when you ran into her. Quite literally.

“Uh—yeah. No, actually. I think I feel a bit unwell so I’m going to head home, okay?”

You made a move to leave but her arm stopped you. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Above her shoulder, you saw Matthew emerge from the bathroom, a little dazzled, eyes searching the room. Before he could even spot you, you quickly freed yourself from her hold and nodded. “Will be. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t rush back, okay? Tell Alex I said thanks for the invite.”

You didn’t stumble a step in your heels as you jogged towards the door, making a swift exit before you attracted even more attention.

+ one.

Matthew left no calls and no messages, but that was fine. You didn’t spend time trying to build your expectations of anything like that happening because drunk words weren’t always sober thoughts. The event was just something you had to deal with and if you had to do it alone, then so be it. Reasonably speaking, you and Matthew went from nothing to friends and if you caught feelings along the way, then that was your mistake for letting yourself slip like that. You were left broken hearted once, you really didn’t want to go through that again especially over someone that wasn’t even really and truly yours to begin with.

So, the next morning, you woke up at a reasonably early hour despite the late night but felt energized enough to sweep through your apartment and collect the garments you tossed carelessly on your way to bed after arriving at home. You said a heartfelt goodbye to Sandy, apologizing that in this scenario, her and Danny didn’t end up driving off in a red convertible. After that, you showered and changed in a fresh set of clothes even if the day would most likely be spent indoors. It was a fitting conclusion to the Halloween weekend, and you could do with some downtime, really.

Anna must’ve stayed with Johnny because regardless of how much noise you made, she didn’t emerge from the room and after fixing a quick breakfast and brewing coffee to continued silence, you knew you were right. It didn’t bother you. You’d make full use of the couch and stretch out on it properly as you flicked through your Netflix account and for the sake of sticking to weekend morning traditions, you selected a lighthearted sitcom. You were halfway through the third episode when your doorbell rang. You could’ve sworn Anna had a spare key of her own unless she misplaced it or forgot it home. Not entirely out of question.

Except, it wasn’t Anna who greeted you when you opened the door.

“Oh.” You coughed lightly, crossing your arms then unfolding them, then leaning one against the doorway before dropping it to your side. “Hey—uh. Hey Tkachuk, isn’t it a bit early for you to be out and about? You were smashed the last time I saw you.”

Matthew looked over your shoulder into the apartment, as if checking to see if you were alone. “Can I come in?”

Defeated, you stepped to the side and cleared the way for him to step inside before pushing the door closed. Part of you wished you’d dressed up as if you were ready to head off somewhere. You weren’t quite ready nor willing to face whatever music Matthew had in mind for you.

In the aftermath of the party, out of the flashiness of the costume, Matthew seemed to be perfectly clear-headed despite the state you’d left him in. The curls atop his head seemed soft despite the natural frizz and as he passed by, you caught a whiff of sharp cologne and fresh bodywash.

“Is Anna here?”

“Are we playing twenty-one questions?”

“No?”

“Kind of sounds like it, though?” You laughed quietly, trying to lighten the mood. It was bad enough the weather outside was gloomy, autumn settling in full force. Now, you had to deal with a Matthew who looked as if he wasn’t sure he came to the right place. “Coffee?” you asked, already leading the way towards the kitchen. You heard him follow behind you just moments later. While you poured a full cup for him, he hovered by the table, making you frown at him. “What’s wrong with you? You need an invite to sit down and relax? Seriously, Matthew, you look like you should be in bed.”

“You left last night without saying anything,” he said instead.

“Uh—yeah. I was kind of tired and I wanted it to call it a night early so—”

“Was it because of what I said or what I did?”

You almost dropped the coffee cup, but fortunately only startled enough for the liquid to slosh over the rim and down the back of your hand, causing you to hiss in pain. You cursed quietly and, in an instant, Matthew crossed over the room and took the cup from you, setting it down on the table before leading you towards the sink. As if used to this, he placed your hand under ice cold water and once the sharp pain numbed, you pushed his hand away, taking a step to the side in an attempt to put more distance between you.

“It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you mumbled, holding your hand still under the jet for a few more seconds before closing it.

It was hardly worth the fuss, but it gave you a reason to make yourself busy with something other than freaking out. It couldn’t be that he remembered anything. It couldn’t be that he was standing in your kitchen, thinking that it was a good idea to just open up that subject when you were so ready to take a shovel to it and bury it six feet under.

“Didn’t you get tired of it at all?” he tried again.

“Tired of what?”

“Of pretending. Of only acting like we’re together for one reason or the other—”

“Matthew, I asked you only once and you know why. I apologized then but if it helps you sleep better at night, I’ll apologize again for dragging you into my mess. I don’t know what the point is of this discussion—”

“The point,” he said, raising his voice but only to cut through your speech. “The point is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to be by your side and pretend. It got to a stage where I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t, and I feel as if the only time I’ll know that for sure will be when you find someone, so you no longer need to turn to me to pretend.”

“Matthew, I’m not using you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re coming at me with this out of the blue and I don’t even understand what this is all about,” you argued, waving a hand between the two of you.

Matthew clenched his jaw. You watched as he flexed it and his eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need me to spell it out for you again? I thought I was pretty straightforward about what I want last night.”

“You were drunk last night, is what you were. You could hardly put a foot in front of the other.”

“You know that’s not true,” he retorts, lifting his arms then dropping them back down to his sides. “I was sober enough to know damn well what I said and why I said it. If you want to keep pretending even now, even at this point, then you go ahead and do that but let me be clear with you again and you take what you want from it: I don’t want to pretend with you anymore. I want to be with you. You want to know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being so close to something you want, literally having that thing dangled right in front of you only to have it snatched just when you think it’s yours. Me kissing you last night? I’m sorry I forced it on you, I could’ve gone about doing it differently but I’m not sorry for what I feel. That was all me and not the alcohol. So, you take this and do what you want with it.”

You stared at him, disbelieving your ears. It wouldn’t surprise you if that was the case: you did wake up surprisingly refreshed even after an emotionally charged night, so for all you knew, you could be dreaming this.

“Matthew, what are you—That’s, you’re kidding me with this right? You can’t. You can’t possibly think that.”

“And why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Are you even hearing yourself talk?”

“Why doesn’t it make sense? Want me to go about it differently? If you let me pull your hair, I’ll let you push me in the sandbox.”

You were suffering from a strange, ill-timed case of déjà vu. Part of you wanted to laugh at the situation but the bigger part of you triumphed, thankfully. You released a breath you had been holding, bringing both hands up to cover your face, taking some moments to yourself. Or perhaps, you’d lost track of time because eventually, you heard Matthew sigh and felt his fingers wrap around each wrist though he didn’t put pressure to tug your hands down from your face.

“Sorry. I’m just—I’m not doing this the right way. I don’t want it to seem like I’m forcing my feelings on you and that you should accept them. If I misread us—you at any point, then fine. Just, we can drop it here and I’ll deal with it but—”

You shook your head slowly. “No, I just need a moment. Sorry. You really caught me by surprise. I didn’t… I thought everything you said last night…what you did… I thought that was just, well, just the alcohol. So, I did the best thing I knew to do and, uh, left.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” he reminded you quietly and this time, you dropped your hands away from your face so you could look up at him.

He was so handsome. Ridiculously handsome in his casual clothes. Briefly, you thought back to the time you first found safety in his arms and wondered if maybe… Well, why not. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to the thick material of his hoodie while you faceplanted against his chest and breathed him in.

You liked Matthew. You liked Matthew so much that the admission overwhelmed you so much that you squeezed him to you, trying desperately to bring him closer. The gesture seemed to prompt him into action, and he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and then to the base of your throat once he’d lowered his head there.

“Me too. I want to be with you too. Really be with you. No more of this pretend stuff,” you told him, your voice muffled against his body, but you knew he caught every word.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. “We won Noah’s competition last night.”

“Bet he did it because of your long face,” you commented, unable to help yourself. “What did we win?”

Matthew made a move to step back, but you clung to him, much to your embarrassment. It seemed as if your body acted out of sync with your mind, but who could blame it when Matthew stood right there, right before you. Turned out he only took a step back to lift you off your feet and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms resting loosely around his neck. You leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth as he stumbled away from the kitchen while you stole another kiss. And then, just because you could, a third.

“A voucher to a seafood restaurant,” he informed you, breaking into a laugh when you groaned, throwing your head back in sheer frustration even if you had a strong feeling he was only messing with you.

“Remind me to never put so much effort if that’s what the stake are.”

“Noted. Next time, I’ll tell you we could just stay home for Halloween and play by our rules. Outfits optional. Probably not recommended.”

“That’s…really not what I said.”

“I’m reading between the lines. See? We know each other so well.”

You laughed as he carried you all the way into your room without even as much as breaking a sweat. That was definitely some food for thought at a later point.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #*

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