Summary: “Forget me nots, second thoughts live in isolation. Heads or tails, fairytales in my mind…” ~ Are We The Waiting (Green Day)
Word Count: just about 1.2k
Warnings: little bit of sad panda, lot of fluffy fix it feels
Author Note: I have been damn well sunk and soft on this boy for a good while now, but never wrote anything for him. I had wanted to, but the muse and I still haven’t come to a steady agreement. Well, this decided to show up after the Avs/Blues game 4 out of nowhere, and I mean after the game all of a sudden the words vomited out and just wouldn’t stop until it all came out. All from one simple camera pan that sent my stomach into loops. I haven’t had a chance to proof/check it until Friday night (ya girl is back working a full time legit slightly important job now) but wanted to get it posted before they kick of the next series, so this is being scheduled to hit before the game.
Now I really need to get my hockey fics organized and start a new masterlist…
Tyson’s face after the call is bad enough, it pulls straight at your heart. The look he has while he’s in the box is a whole other level of sad. However, his face as they open the penalty box door after the Blues score on the power play sends your stomach plummeting.
You know well enough how much he’s beating himself up on this. You could tell when the pre-game interview hit on Twitter, how he had such focus and seriousness. More so than you’ve seen since last year before the last game against Dallas in the bubble. They’re so close to that sweep, you can feel it; you can’t even imagine how they’re all managing the emotions.
Thankfully, the boys bounce right back, both into their systems of play and on the scoresheet to finish off the series in a clean four straight sweep. You briefly catch glimpses of him in the last few minutes of the broadcast, congratulating Phillipp with a quick tap to his helmet and then again on the handshake line when he has a moment with Brayden Schenn. You know they’ll celebrate some, Gabe would want them to relish a little in this success before getting back into focus and moving on for their next round. With the early puck drop, they’re flying back tonight so you shoot off a quick text.
4 up, 4 down. Each one well deserved, well earned. You’re a big part of the reason why. Congrats Tys, fly safe <3
Summary: “Forget me nots, second thoughts live in isolation. Heads or tails, fairytales in my mind…” ~ Are We The Waiting (Green Day)
Word Count: just about 1.2k
Warnings: little bit of sad panda, lot of fluffy fix it feels
Author Note: I have been damn well sunk and soft on this boy for a good while now, but never wrote anything for him. I had wanted to, but the muse and I still haven’t come to a steady agreement. Well, this decided to show up after the Avs/Blues game 4 out of nowhere, and I mean after the game all of a sudden the words vomited out and just wouldn’t stop until it all came out. All from one simple camera pan that sent my stomach into loops. I haven’t had a chance to proof/check it until Friday night (ya girl is back working a full time legit slightly important job now) but wanted to get it posted before they kick of the next series, so this is being scheduled to hit before the game.
Now I really need to get my hockey fics organized and start a new masterlist…
Tyson’s face after the call is bad enough, it pulls straight at your heart. The look he has while he’s in the box is a whole other level of sad. However, his face as they open the penalty box door after the Blues score on the power play sends your stomach plummeting.
You know well enough how much he’s beating himself up on this. You could tell when the pre-game interview hit on Twitter, how he had such focus and seriousness. More so than you’ve seen since last year before the last game against Dallas in the bubble. They’re so close to that sweep, you can feel it; you can’t even imagine how they’re all managing the emotions.
Thankfully, the boys bounce right back, both into their systems of play and on the scoresheet to finish off the series in a clean four straight sweep. You briefly catch glimpses of him in the last few minutes of the broadcast, congratulating Phillipp with a quick tap to his helmet and then again on the handshake line when he has a moment with Brayden Schenn. You know they’ll celebrate some, Gabe would want them to relish a little in this success before getting back into focus and moving on for their next round. With the early puck drop, they’re flying back tonight so you shoot off a quick text.
4 up, 4 down. Each one well deserved, well earned. You’re a big part of the reason why. Congrats Tys, fly safe <3
Summary: “Forget me nots, second thoughts live in isolation. Heads or tails, fairytales in my mind...” ~ Are We The Waiting (Green Day)
Word Count: just about 1.2k
Warnings: little bit of sad panda, lot of fluffy fix it feels
Author Note: I have been damn well sunk and soft on this boy for a good while now, but never wrote anything for him. I had wanted to, but the muse and I still haven’t come to a steady agreement. Well, this decided to show up after the Avs/Blues game 4 out of nowhere, and I mean after the game all of a sudden the words vomited out and just wouldn’t stop until it all came out. All from one simple camera pan that sent my stomach into loops. I haven’t had a chance to proof/check it until Friday night (ya girl is back working a full time legit slightly important job now) but wanted to get it posted before they kick of the next series, so this is being scheduled to hit before the game.
Now I really need to get my hockey fics organized and start a new masterlist...
Tyson’s face after the call is bad enough, it pulls straight at your heart. The look he has while he’s in the box is a whole other level of sad. However, his face as they open the penalty box door after the Blues score on the power play sends your stomach plummeting.
You know well enough how much he’s beating himself up on this. You could tell when the pre-game interview hit on Twitter, how he had such focus and seriousness. More so than you’ve seen since last year before the last game against Dallas in the bubble. They’re so close to that sweep, you can feel it; you can’t even imagine how they’re all managing the emotions.
Thankfully, the boys bounce right back, both into their systems of play and on the scoresheet to finish off the series in a clean four straight sweep. You briefly catch glimpses of him in the last few minutes of the broadcast, congratulating Phillipp with a quick tap to his helmet and then again on the handshake line when he has a moment with Brayden Schenn. You know they’ll celebrate some, Gabe would want them to relish a little in this success before getting back into focus and moving on for their next round. With the early puck drop, they’re flying back tonight so you shoot off a quick text.
4 up, 4 down. Each one well deserved, well earned. You’re a big part of the reason why. Congrats Tys, fly safe <3
It gives you enough time to get a few things pulled together and ready for when he gets home. Freshly washed linens for the bed straight from the dryer, baking off a batch of those oddly good yet slightly weird protein brownies he recently found, icing off a couple of different drink options depending on the mood when he gets through the door, a few other things in the bedroom based off the same thinking. Your phone pings off just as you flip the bedding from the washer to the dryer.
You always know exactly what to say. Stop taking lessons from Gabe. Took off a little early. See you at home, love.
You hear his keys in the door as you’re walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the arm of the couch as he opens the door. Tyson’s in one of your favorite game day looks of his, the jet black suit with the crisp white shirt open at the collar with no tie. He looks just the right side of rumpled mixed with a little tired, a little happy, a little frustrated, curls all askew. He doesn’t say anything as he parks his bags to the side of the door, tosses his keys into the bowl on the side table and shuts the door carefully. He leans back against it, head tapping the wood and he audibly sighs with his eyes closed. You can see the tension start to seep out from his shoulders. You want to go wrap him up in your arms and kiss whatever doubt is simmering still within him, but you also want to give him the time and the space to excise whatever he brought back home. He opens his eyes at the tail end of a deep breath and heads right to you.
“C’mere,” he says softly, reaching for you when he’s just a few steps away.
You go willingly, easily sliding into his arms.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
“Am I that predictable?” you kid, tilting your head up off his chest to look up at him.
He cracks a bit of a smile, nudging your head down with his chin before he tugs you closer. You stay there for a few moments, just wrapped up in each other.
“Wasn’t it you who told me a time or two hockey is just a game of mistakes and it’s who makes the least that comes out on top?” you tread carefully. “You didn’t go in wanting to use your stick as a deadly weapon, Tys. It was heat of the moment in the play, an accident. It happens. You didn’t do it purposely. They were a desperate team, you guys had them pushed against the wall. Look what happened. You and the boys came out on the other side of it, on the right side of it.”
“I made it too fucking close of a call,” he bites back. “I know better. I put us…”
“Hey, look at me,” you pull back enough to take his face in both your hands. His eyes refuse to meet yours.
“Tyson,” you plead. “Please.”
He looks right at you, his eyes softening slightly.
“You did everything right afterwards. You played hard, you pushed, you had shots, your defensive side of the game was on point. They were fighting for their playoff lives, but this team of yours was better, is better. You guys are poised for it,” you explain, thumbs shifting across his cheeks. “Because of that, you won. You fucking swept them. Handedly. All four games. O’Reilly’s bullshit be damned. You showed them.”
“You really could give Cap a run for his money on these pep talks,” he chuckles. “Thank you, for all that, for being here. This one, this team feels different you know? I don’t want to be the reason to fuck it all up.”
“You have the biggest heart of anyone I know,” you start. “That’s driving you forward and I damn well know it means a lot to that motley crew in the locker room, especially your team dad. Take this in, expel the bullshit and it’s on to the next one. I have all the things ready for you, depending on what you’re in the mood for from those oddly good high protein brownies, Netflix queued up, fresh sheets on the bed.”
He shifts, dusting his lips over the pad of your thumb before leaning his head down into your neck with a massive exhale. You wrap your arms around his waist and just let him breathe, not minding how his curls tickle you.
“I need a shower, preferably not alone,” he murmurs against your skin. “Maybe a brownie, definitely those fresh sheets and our bed. And you. I want to get a little lost in you.”
His eyes clear now as he lifts from your shoulder and leans in to kiss you soundly, sweetly.
“Thank you,” he whispers just a breath away from you before pressing into your lips again. “I know it’s a lot, that I can be a lot, but I appreciate you and all of this. Really.”
“You do the same for me, we’re there for each other. Because I love you,” you respond, tangling your fingers together and tugging him towards your room.
“And I’m damn lucky for that. I love you too,” he squeezes your hand before tossing you over his shoulder to walk down the hall, both of you breaking out in laughter.
Summary: When a literal run in changes the course of a day, let alone of a life…
Word Count: little bit over 2.2k
Warning: adorable, fluff and funny
Author Notes: A bit of a birthday surprise for @fallinallincurls - Happy, happy birthday Bre! Big birthday deserves nothing more than the start of a new verse for the hockey boy I forced at you last year. Umm sorry not sorry.
Things have been a lot of not ok around here for a good clip, I’ve been really not ok. It’s been hard. Writing hasn’t come, life has just kept throwing me down and down. Trying to fight the way back up, not easy but I’m trying. This was a nice way to try to get back some of that light. I had been poking at this for a beat, the idea gnawing at me with some pieces written, notes scribbled around, but birthday sparkle helped get it over the finish line. Part two already has some bones, as does part three - but please to bear with me if you will.
You hate that it’s a Saturday and you’re trekking your way into the office. It’s finally truly fall in the city and it’s a gorgeous day. The last thing you want is to be stuck at your desk behind a computer screen. You want a hot spiked apple cider, a book, a good playlist and your plaid blanket on the grass in Central Park.
It looks like the rest of the city is awake early on this day for the same reason. The subway, which normally is slightly more bearable at this time on a weekend, is the furthest thing from that. It’s packed with people including the grimy, sweat-ladened guy in the chopped-up joggers and crocs who keeps trying to “accidentally” bump and grab you every chance he gets.
The next stop, you try to move but too many people are coming on and off as the doors only quickly open and shut. You just end up jostling as the car jolts in its start. You can’t fall forward. It would land you right into the situation you’re trying to flee. Instead, you try to lean back but you slip. Fully prepared to wipe out, a hand comes gently to steady your elbow while another holds you at your shoulder.
You hear a mish mosh of “careful there” and “are you ok” crossing together as you get back steady on your feet.
“Thanks for saving me for either face planting or landing in that sweaty creep’s grasp,” you say, sliding your bag back securely on your shoulder before turning.
You know those faces. You’ve seen them on billboards and most definitely on TV. Shit, shit and shit. Of course, the two star, absolutely adorable bestie forwards from the New York Islanders have come to your rescue. This would be your luck. At least you pulled yourself somewhat together for this Saturday jaunt to the office. You keep a straight face, smiling normally and not letting anything on.
“Couldn’t let you risk that. He’s been a bit of an ass since he got into the car. We said if he were still acting a fool at next stop, we would jump in. Plotted a rescue mission and everything,” the one explains, hand running through his hair.
“His mission was to cross his arms and give him the eye,” the other mocks, shoving at his friend’s shoulder. “I mean I guess he can look threatening, like a puppy maybe.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. These two are exactly as they’ve seemed in interviews. Mathew and Anthony really are as thick as thieves.
“That sarcastic asshole is Anthony and I’m Mat. We’ll stay close until he leaves, or you need to,” he remarks.
“You don’t have to do that. It’s the subway. That happening unfortunately is just another day that ends in y, you know?” you explain. “I also don’t want to take up more of your time or ruin any of your plans.”
“You deal with that? Often?” Anthony asks, eyes a little wide.
“Welcome to New York,” you shrug. “Not every day thankfully. But it’s often enough.”
“I hope you know, that wasn’t, and we weren’t...” Mat tries to stumble through.
“No, no, no. Totally. I didn’t get that whatsoever,” you respond. “Not that from either of you guys. Promise. It’s sweet to know there are still gentlemen out in this world.”
They both get a little bashful smile across their pretty faces.
“Glad to help,” they practically say in unison which causes you to bark out a laugh.
Time to shoot your shot, you think to yourself. Worse case, it’s a moment you get to have for a fun bar story.
“I think we need to become friends, boys,” you start. “Or at the very least, I owe you a drink for saving me.”
“Yes,” Anthony jumps in, nodding his head with a wide grin. “You should come to brunch with us.”
“If I didn’t have to get to the office I would,” you reply. “Unfortunately, it’s stuff I need done before a Monday morning meeting.”
“Office work on a Saturday? That’s no fun. Play hooky! We can promise a bottomless brunch,” he teases.
“Maybe after though?” Mat chimes in with a soft smile. “Get what you need to done, give you something to look forward to after?”
“I don’t want to ruin whatever plans you’ve had for the day,” you begin before the boys both shake their heads.
“It’s just brunch and shopping to try to get this one to up his style game,” Mat chides while Anthony rolls his eyes.
You bite your lip fighting back yet another giggle. These two, at the very least, would truly make some good friends. You dig around in your tote, finally snatching your card holder.
“Not sure how long I’ll be stuck. I’m hoping only a couple hours. But. If you’re serious. Text or call me,” you say, handing one off to each of them.
They both nod, each pocketing your card as the subway comes to a halt.
“Oh shit, this stop is mine. Thanks again for the soft hands and clutch assist guys,” you wink, dashing away quickly before the doors close.
“What is my life,” you mutter, the boys waiving as the train pulls away. “I need to get to the office.”
“Ok, I think that’s the first time we’ve ever had someone realize who we are in public, without a whole big scene or making a blatant ass grab type pass. We’re keeping her. Plus, you like her,” Anthony teases, shoving at Mat’s shoulder as they hit the sidewalk coming up from the subway.
“I could say the same thing to you Tito,” he snarks back, shoving in return. “You were batting the eyes. I’m not blind.”
“She seems cool and yeah she’s pretty, but I’m not jaw drop like you were when you saw her,” he chirps back. “I was trying to get a rise out of you dude. And it worked, you actually stepped up the game. And now you have her info. Don’t make me text her too. Cause I will.”
You’re just about to settle into your email with a cup of what your office likes to consider coffee when your phone starts buzzing about in quick succession.
“Looks like this is a thing,” you mumble to yourself, lips quirking up into a half smile as you formulate a reply.
“You knew?” Anthony grins over his beer. “From the start?”
You nod, sipping at your cider. You pushed through your work to be able to meet the two downtown at this tiny spot in NoLiTa that was tucked away from the crazy of the neighborhoods it was snug between. It wasn’t as sleek as you thought they’d choose; it was something much more comfortable and lower key.
“Really?” Mat questions.
“Yep. One of you not with the other? I would have had to do double take. I would have noticed, but probably would have questioned. However, the two peas in a pod together? That was a no brainer,” you explain, fighting back a bit of a giggle.
“You didn’t say anything,” Mat replies.
“How many times does that happen and it turn into a thing or a bit of a scene?” you circle the bottom of the cider bottle around on the tabletop. “There was also no point to, either. You were just trying to enjoy the day and you were being super kind keeping me from wiping out. I get it’s New York, so it’s a less likely thing but it still happens. So, if I could keep it from another one of those moments...”
“Told you Barzy, we’re keeping her,” Anthony taps his beer against yours. “Welcome to the crazy, Evangeline.”
You can’t help but tinge a little pink.
“Well then. If that’s the case, my friends call me Evie,” you smile.
“Evie,” Mat lets the name roll around his tongue.
A couple rounds later, of both beers and darts, you realize how tight the two are and more so, how easily you could become entangled in friendship with them. And you do. Texts and memes and random photos fly back and forth, you all hang when all your schedules align. You’re also fostering relationships with each of them separately too; sharing recipes of things you want to try to bake and longing about the places you miss in Quebec with Anthony while Mat was trying to teach you more about basketball (with little luck) and in turn you trying to expand what he calls music and what actually is music. You also share some of your favorite places in the city that the two really didn’t know about. It was easy with them, together and individually but you were getting a bit more of a tug, a bit of a warmer burn with Mat.
A Saturday morning a few weeks after the afternoon drinking funtivities, you wake up to a few texts, photos really, from the group chat with the boys. First is a pair of tickets and passes to their game that night. Second is two jerseys: a blue Barzal and a white Beauvillier. The third, a text from Mat.
Choose carefully…
We’re also not taking no for an answer. You’re coming. Game and drinks after.
“Oh shit,” you exhale, quickly jumping to your closet.
“Beth?” you call out from your room, tossing through your clothes looking for two specific items. “Please tell me you don’t have plans tonight.”
“Hot date with a bottle of pinot noir and trash tv, why?” she pokes her head into your room.
“Good. You do now. You’re coming with me to the Islanders game tonight,” you mutter, flipping through more hangars.
“Wait excuse me?” she flops down, cross-legged on the end of your bed.
“So, I may have left a tiny detail out from when I told you about the two cute guys who saved me on the subway,” you explain.
“Ok and?” Beth prompts you to continue.
“They’re Islanders…” you trail off.
“What?” she screams tossing one of your throw pillows at you.
“I’m trying to not make a big deal, cause you know. But, at the same time, well you know,” you reply, finally finding the long sleeve you wanted to wear as well as one of your hockey jerseys.
“You need to give me more than this, Evie,” Beth pries.
You lean back against your closet door.
“It was Anthony Beauvillier and Mat Barzal,” you say.
Beth screams and throws another pillow at you.
“You just casually didn’t tell me that you met the damn Calder winner and his like bromance bestie,” she laments. “Evie, what the fuck?”
“This is exactly why,” you sigh. “Like it started out as ok I could have a moment, a cool story to tell. But honestly, they’re two really great guys.”
“You’re not telling me something, I can see it in that wistful look,” she pokes. “Oh god you’re sweet on one of them, aren’t you?”
You shake your head at Beth, not acknowledging the question. Shoving her over a little, you fold the jersey on the bed next to her, so the logo was perfectly visible, but no giveaway of the name on the back or numbers on the sleeves.
Fine if you two summon I guess I must go. I’m bringing Beth, my roommate, so you need to behave. She’s already a pretty big hockey fan so I apologize now in advance for any of her crazy. She’s great but gets excited.
Also, easy answer: where’s the Ebs jersey? ;) Or I can always wear this one.
You snap a quick shot of your Dallas Stars jersey.
Mat of course chimes in first.
That’s cold Evie, really cold.
And that thing? That’s even worse. Who is on there? Do I wanna know?
Then Anthony.
Non. Non. Non.
Why do you even have that jersey!?
“You’ve got that look,” Beth pokes at your thigh. “I’ll leave you be for now. Need to be at the arena what 6? We should leave here at 4:30. Worse case we get there early, we can snag a drink nearby. I don’t trust the train or the subway on a Saturday to be on time. Thanks for bringing me, Roomie. I’m excited and I get to meet these boys of yours.”
I have favorites across the league, you both know I liked the sport well before you two came along. I have the appropriate jerseys for my boys. Well, almost. You guys making me choose is mean af. Rock paper scissors it between you both, whoever wins that’s what I’ll wear.
“Just leave her yours, you know you want to no matter who would win at that little challenge of Evie’s,” Anthony smiles as the text comes through, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “And I know you’d pull shit to do it no matter what. She’s really your girl anyway.”
“What…” Mat starts before Anthony jumps in.
“You know it’s never been like that with her for me, dude. She’s awesome and I’m so glad to have her as a friend,” he replies. “You though? Since moment one, she’s been something else for you. You need to make a move. You’ve got game, I’ve seen it.”
“Evie’s. She’s Evie. There’s more there...” he leans back into his locker.
“More reason to then Barzy,” he volleys back. “Come on, get your shit together. We can drop everything to leave for her on the way out.”
Author Notes: Little birthday surprise for @miracleonice87 - Happy, happy birthday M! :) Something for that other stupid boy of ours who has been dearly missed. I hope you enjoy the day and this little nifty gifty.
Words have been hard, life has been hard - but used this happy day as a little bit of a nudge to at least try. It fell back into lockstep.
A tiny peek in on Tyler and Clementine not too far after the first, Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass. I guess three stories actually makes a verse now right? I need to get a hockey masterlist started. Also please to enjoy this photo which just solidified that I picked the right thing to write.
“Em. Why did I have to find out from Dicky that your birthday is coming up?” Tyler asks cautiously as his face pops through on FaceTime.
“Hi, how are you? I’m good. It’s been a busy day,” you tease as he groans.
“You’re just gonna dish the sass today straight out before you even answer me?” he questions.
“Tyler, we’ve been on a grand total of five and a half actual dates, it’s only been like what – just three weeks since we said we’re in on this as a dating thing? And yeah, we were friends before, but I wasn’t sure if we were that good of friends, you know?” you bite your lip. “Also, how the hell does Dicky even know?”
“Half?” he laughs. “When the hell was a half?”
“Lunch with me, you and Dicky does not count at all,” you explain. “Half is me coming to the first game and dinner and drinks with the boys after.”
“Ok yeah, I guess that’s fair. But we have been at least friends for a good clip. Plus, dates and times don’t matter like that with us at least for me, I’m one hundred percent in on this. I’m stuck on you, babygirl,” he starts. “So, back to the task at hand. When’s the big day Emmy? Birthdays are a big deal around here. I think his better half mentioned something about trying to do brunch but didn’t want to interrupt any birthday plans.”
Author Notes: Little birthday surprise for @miracleonice87 - Happy, happy birthday M! :) Something for that other stupid boy of ours who has been dearly missed. I hope you enjoy the day and this little nifty gifty.
Words have been hard, life has been hard - but used this happy day as a little bit of a nudge to at least try. It fell back into lockstep.
A tiny peek in on Tyler and Clementine not too far after the first, Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass. I guess three stories actually makes a verse now right? I need to get a hockey masterlist started. Also please to enjoy this photo which just solidified that I picked the right thing to write.
“Em. Why did I have to find out from Dicky that your birthday is coming up?” Tyler asks cautiously as his face pops through on FaceTime.
“Hi, how are you? I’m good. It’s been a busy day,” you tease as he groans.
“You’re just gonna dish the sass today straight out before you even answer me?” he questions.
“Tyler, we’ve been on a grand total of five and a half actual dates, it’s only been like what – just three weeks since we said we’re in on this as a dating thing? And yeah, we were friends before, but I wasn’t sure if we were that good of friends, you know?” you bite your lip. “Also, how the hell does Dicky even know?”
“Half?” he laughs. “When the hell was a half?”
“Lunch with me, you and Dicky does not count at all,” you explain. “Half is me coming to the first game and dinner and drinks with the boys after.”
“Ok yeah, I guess that’s fair. But we have been at least friends for a good clip. Plus, dates and times don’t matter like that with us at least for me, I’m one hundred percent in on this. I’m stuck on you, babygirl,” he starts. “So, back to the task at hand. When’s the big day Emmy? Birthdays are a big deal around here. I think his better half mentioned something about trying to do brunch but didn’t want to interrupt any birthday plans.”
Author Notes: Little birthday surprise for @miracleonice87 - Happy, happy birthday M! :) Something for that other stupid boy of ours who has been dearly missed. I hope you enjoy the day and this little nifty gifty.
Words have been hard, life has been hard - but used this happy day as a little bit of a nudge to at least try. It fell back into lockstep.
A tiny peek in on Tyler and Clementine not too far after the first, Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass. I guess three stories actually makes a verse now right? I need to get a hockey masterlist started. Also please to enjoy this photo which just solidified that I picked the right thing to write.
“Em. Why did I have to find out from Dicky that your birthday is coming up?” Tyler asks cautiously as his face pops through on FaceTime.
“Hi, how are you? I’m good. It’s been a busy day,” you tease as he groans.
“You’re just gonna dish the sass today straight out before you even answer me?” he questions.
“Tyler, we’ve been on a grand total of five and a half actual dates, it’s only been like what – just three weeks since we said we’re in on this as a dating thing? And yeah, we were friends before, but I wasn’t sure if we were that good of friends, you know?” you bite your lip. “Also, how the hell does Dicky even know?”
“Half?” he laughs. “When the hell was a half?”
“Lunch with me, you and Dicky does not count at all,” you explain. “Half is me coming to the first game and dinner and drinks with the boys after.”
“Ok yeah, I guess that’s fair. But we have been at least friends for a good clip. Plus, dates and times don’t matter like that with us at least for me, I’m one hundred percent in on this. I’m stuck on you, babygirl,” he starts. “So, back to the task at hand. When’s the big day Emmy? Birthdays are a big deal around here. I think his better half mentioned something about trying to do brunch but didn’t want to interrupt any birthday plans.”
“Beginning of next month, the fifth it’s a Friday. It’s at the very end of the big western swing. Alandra asked about doing brunch while you guys were gone, she found this pop up that was kicking off that weekend. Wasn’t sure what the final travel plans were for you guys,” you reply. “So, we can do something when you get back. We have time to figure things out. You guys need to get out of Chicago and St. Louis with some points and in one piece first.”
The conversation wanders from there, until he had to catch his pre-game nap. His yawn is a perfect time break.
“Go get your rest, Tyler. Play hard tonight, I’ll be watching,” you blow him a kiss.
Tyler runs a hand through the mess of his hair after the call disconnects, he’s got plans to start making once they get through Chicago. He starts a list before he begins to doze off.
It wasn’t so much the flowers that are delivered promptly at 7:45 in the morning on your birthday, as stunning and lovely as they are, it’s the card that’s attached with it.
Surprises begin now babygirl, happy happy birthday
Will be cashing in on giving you all birthday kisses later Emmy and I can’t wait
“What the hell is he up to?” you murmur as the doorbell rings again.
“Special delivery birthday girl,” Alandra calls out a Cheshire cat-like grin forming before leaning in for a hug. “I am here as special envoy!”
She hands you a small gift bag that just screams pulled together by Tyler, colorful and loud and just a little messy. Inside the gift is a bit of a puzzle: a luggage tag, a tiny squeaky palm tree and a new pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, exactly like the ones you were complaining that you needed to replace.
“What the fuck?” your eyebrows knit down. “He wouldn’t…”
“You better get packing, I’m your ride to the airport,” she exclaims, wrapping you in another hug.
“Airport? What?” you shake your head. “Alandra, are you serious?”
“Go, we’ve got to leave here by 9 to get you to the airport in time. There’s coffee waiting for you in the car,” she pushes you out of the living room.
As you’re digging out your weekender bag from the closet, you yell at Alexa to make a phone call.
“Happy birthday Emmy. I’ll spare you from singing for now, we’ll do that later,” Tyler says, voice bright.
“Are you fucking crazy?” you volley at him, tossing things onto the bed in the direction of your open bag.
“Just about you babygirl,” he sasses back.
“How I just, when and what the hell Tyler,” you sigh as you plop down on the edge of your bed, overwhelmed and surrounded by a flurry of clothes.
“I wasn’t letting you spend your birthday alone. It’s the last game of the trip and it’s LA. We’re doing well enough in this stretch. Well enough that Bones is letting me fly back with you tomorrow night and we’ve got a late skate on Monday. It just made sense to try. So, we’ll have tonight after the game, which is already planned, then we can figure out what we want to do tomorrow but we should hit the beach at the very least. Flight back is just on the border of a redeye, so we have the whole day.”
“Ty. I was thinking dinner when you got back, maybe me finally dragging you to that art gallery I was telling you about. That would have been enough, just time with you. You know I don’t need all this right? That’s not why, it’s not…” you trail off.
“It’s exactly why I’m doing it, Emmy,” you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “Let me do something absolutely ridiculous to celebrate you, ok?
“You’re still crazy but thank you Tyler. Really, this is just beyond,” you exhale.
“Barring any delays, you’ll get here just as we’re getting back from morning skate so I’m stealing you for pregame nap and cuddles,” you can just picture his smile as he says it. “Go pack. Bring something semi fancy for tonight after the game and then maybe anything pretty for me to enjoy, cause it’s your birthday and well you know, you want to thank me for all this.”
“You would Ty, you absolutely would,” you chuckle, thinking of what you could bring for that very reason. “But really, this is amazing. Thank you.”
A/N: Life is crazy so enjoy this soft little piece while I try my best to work on some real fics. I got an ask for some Mat smut and then a request in my dms from @fash03 so here you go guys! (i wrote this during breaks at work so it’s not really proofread)
Note to self: do not attempt to read gifts of words (and smutty ones at that) from J when trying to get legit things done like calls or profesh emails. Cause she’s damn good at scrambling your brain.
A/N: Angsty one shot inspired by Taylor Swift’s song ‘tis the damn season.
Warning: smut and a whole lotta angst…
Word count: 9,6 k
The slippers next to her bed have a festive Christmas motif on them. They are red and fuzzy and she slips her feet inside after getting up. Jo’s neck hurts from sleeping in a weird position in her old narrow single bed. She pads downstairs, groaning as she moves her head, feeling a strained muscle. She has barely slept last night. The rain pounding against the windows of her former children’s room has kept her awake and she has jolted up from a nightmare that left her sweating and tossing and turning in bed. There is something about laying underneath heavy blankets in your parents’ house that is strangely humbling. There was no excessive luxury or extravaganza. Just a small room with old polaroids on the walls and the smell of laundry detergent coming from the closet.
Tyler comes home from a game. You’ve fallen asleep on the couch. Gentle hands wake you.
(“An easy manoeuvre, used to each other, the way you move together, fit together. Flat on his back, his head on a throw pillow, you in the cradle of his hips, bent low over him so you can stay close, feel him breathe.”)
- may you see the light surrounding you -
You go and check on Tyler after Lite’s comments. The house is as quiet as he is.
(“Tyler’s slumped in the middle of the bed, bare chest, but black sweatpants, the duvet half pulled across his legs.”)
- a fight, a misunderstanding - (nsfw)
You think Tyler will fight back. He doesn’t.
(“Your bodies are still carefully held apart, but he rests his cheek against your hair.”)
- a moment in the dark -
In the middle of the night, Tyler wakes you.
(“Your hand slips up along his ribcage, gliding over bone - bump, bump - over muscle. No matter how much Aspirin he’s had, he’ll still b sore. Your touch is careful.”)
- at night, lose my mind - (nsfw)
You and Tyler in a hotel room. You know each other, always.
(“One of his hands finds your hip as your body unfolds, steadying you and bringing you tight in against him at the same time. He’s gonna make a mess of your dress.”)
- i’ve been saving this for you - (nsfw)
Tyler needs to know he played well.
(“He says your name like a prayer, and you keep forgetting how to breathe, wanting to kiss him and never stop, wanting to stay here with him and never leave.”)
I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.
“The question pounds my head, What's a lifetime of achievement / If I pushed you to the edge?” - coney island
He couldn’t possibly be doing this.
As you and your three children, five and under, stood waiting in the hallway, you found yourself glancing at the clock hung on the wall every thirty seconds or so. With each minute that passed, the sinking within you opened up wider, threatening to swallow you whole.
Tyler should’ve been home by now. The game ended an hour and a half ago, and you and the kids had left the arena with a couple minutes left to ensure you’d make it home in time to pull off the surprise. The kids had burst through the door to grab the cards they had made earlier in the week, and you headed to the freezer to retrieve the cake you’d arranged to have sent all the way from Tyler’s favorite bakery in Brampton.
You sighed as you heard the kids excitedly buzzing around the first floor, wishing that you could feel even an inkling of the giddiness they had ahead of their father’s arrival. Things between you and Tyler had been strained for many months, and you had to battle your own bitterness to even acknowledge his birthday at all. You told yourself you were doing this for your kids. For the kids — not for him.
But as the clock neared 11 with no sign of Tyler, anxiety hummed within you. He had bailed countless times in the last few months — hell, in the last few years, if you were being honest with yourself. But today was his 35th birthday. The kids had been at school and daycare all day and hadn’t yet been able to give him the traditional birthday hugs and kisses that had become customary in your family since your oldest was born. He knew you were here waiting, the kids now long past their typical bedtimes.
There was just no way he could possibly do this.
Just as you were about to suggest that the kids head upstairs and put their pajamas on while they waited, your phone buzzed in your back pocket, the blood draining from your face as the hope drained from your heart.
The kids were still giggling and bouncing around, entertaining each other, blissfully unaware of the chaos brewing inside you. You took the opportunity to silently slip through the French doors into Tyler’s office to take the phone call.
Of course, it was him. You wondered what excuse he would carelessly toss your way this time around.
“Hello?” you answered, keeping your voice low.
In the background, you heard a commotion, jovial voices sounding like those of his teammates.
“Hey,” Tyler said dryly. “I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that some of the guys and I decided to hop a flight to Vegas tonight instead of going with the team tomorrow. So I won’t be coming home.”
You leaned against his desk and laughed humorlessly, switching your phone to the other ear.
“That’s great,” you breathed. “That’s just fucking... that’s fantastic, Tyler. Thank you for telling me now.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, this is why I don’t tell you shit,” he threw back. “I’m always the bad guy.”
Red hot rage boiled in your throat as you growled through gritted teeth, “Your children are waiting for you, Tyler.”
You heard him sigh, seeming to weigh what to say next. When he said nothing, you pushed. “What am I supposed to tell them? Huh? What would you like me to tell our kids, who have been waiting all day to see you and hug you and kiss you and eat birthday cake with you? Should I just tell them Daddy decided he’d rather go drink and gamble and party with his friends than come home to us?”
“No!” Tyler spat. “That’s not true. I—“
“Oh, it’s not?” you asked, your voice inadvertently rising. “Then tell me, Tyler, why the fuck are you doing it?”
You heard him draw a breath, expecting an immediate rebuttal, but instead you heard only his teammates calling for him.
“I have to go,” Tyler said, his voice raspy. “Tell the kids I love them and I’ll be home after the game tomorrow night.”
“You’re joking,” you huffed. “You’re really going to do this?”
As you spoke, tears brimmed in your eyes and you gazed across the dim room at your framed wedding photo that sat on the bookshelf. The two people in the picture looked like strangers to you now. You doubted you would ever know them again.
“I gotta go,” Tyler repeated in monotone. With that, he hung up.
Anger surged through you, and you allowed a few broken sobs to pass through your lips before shoving your phone in your pocket and swiping beneath your eyes to dry your tears. With a deep breath, you forced a smile and walked back into the hall.
“Mommy, where is Daddy?” your three-and-a-half year old daughter asked. You scooped her up and kissed her smooth cheek, devastated that Tyler could choose anything over these moments with your kids.
“You know what, Uncle Jamie asked Daddy to come with him early to Las Vegas to, um, to get in lots of good practice before they play the Golden Knights tomorrow night,” you told her as you smoothed your five-year-old son’s hair, the disappointment visible on the faces of these eldest two. “But, you know what? He told us to go ahead and have a slice of birthday cake before we go to bed. How does that sound?”
At that, they all cheered, even your newly two-year-old little boy, who clapped excitedly beside his brother, bringing a sad smile to your face.
“Can we still sing Happy Birfday?” your daughter asked, twirling your hair around her little hand affectionately and shattering you further.
You weren’t sure how much heartbreak you could handle at this point. You kissed the tip of her nose and nodded.
“Sure, baby,” you obliged, sniffling. “We can if you want to.”
_____
To some, it was sure to seem sudden.
To you, it seemed like it had been a long time coming.
When you heard the door slam and the dogs start barking, you knew the time for a reckoning had finally come.
“Hello?” Tyler called into the house, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. You didn’t bother to provide a reply.
Eventually, after you heard him drop his bags and greet the dogs, he climbed the stairs, and you hated the way your heart rate sped up automatically. He called your name, but again, you gave no response. He eventually found you in the bedroom, alone and silent.
“What are you doing?” Tyler asked, eyes scanning the suitcases lining the wall. “Where are the kids?”
You sighed, sitting back on your haunches and pausing folding your clothes.
“I’m packing, Tyler,” you answered, unable to look him in the eye. “The kids are in Fort Worth with my parents.”
“What do you mean, packing?” Tyler asked, brow furrowed as he took quick steps toward you. “Packing for what?”
You leaned back on your palms, rolling your head to try to ease the ever present tension in your neck, preparing for battle before slowly standing to your feet. You crossed your arms across your chest and found his startled gaze.
“Packing to leave, Tyler,” you answered, faking confidence. “Last night was the final nail in the coffin for me. I cannot, and will not, continue to do this to my children. To myself. I just, I won’t.”
Tyler’s eyes were wild as he came closer, grabbing your upper arms desperately.
“Baby, please, I don’t—“ he began, stuttering. “How can I fix this? How can I keep you here?”
You pried his fingers from your biceps and shot him an infuriated look.
“You know what would have been a good start?” you fumed. “Coming home to see your children on your birthday. Spending the night with your family instead of hopping a flight to Vegas. But Tyler, honestly, this has been over long before last night. Let’s not kid ourselves.”
As you moved past him to gather a bundle of your shoes from the closet, Tyler was hot on your heels.
“Listen,” Tyler said pleadingly, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender. “I know things haven’t been good lately. But please, just... just don’t do this. Don’t do this to me.”
You spun around in a blur, the ice in your gaze freezing Tyler in place.
“Do this to you?” you scoffed. “What about our children, Tyler? What about me? Huh? Do you think I actually want to leave the father of my kids? Of course I fucking don’t. Never in a million years could I have thought that this would happen. But here we are. Living separate lives. It’s about fucking time I just make it official.”
Tyler was nearly panting now and he heard his heartbeat within his own ears, spinning his wheels as he wrestled with what to do, what to say, next. You pushed past him with a newfound sense of urgency to finish packing as quickly as possible and get the fuck out.
Finally, Tyler found his voice again, though it was choppy with subdued sobs.
“But what does all of it matter if you’re not here?” he found himself asking as he watched you zip the bags. You shook your head from where you knelt on the floor.
“Maybe you should’ve asked yourself that earlier, Ty,” you suggested angrily, glancing at him in fury.
With that, Tyler sunk to the bench at the end of the bed, beginning to hyperventilate as he watched you stack the kids’ bags on top of your own. He held his head in his hands and begged, “No, no, please, don’t go, please, please forgive me,” as you readied the last of the belongings you were taking with you.
You started to feel your resolve wearing thin, tears threatening to spill and weaken the brave face you were pulling. You forced yourself to cross the room, pull off your rings, and you place them on top of Tyler’s dresser. He watched on helplessly, and as you leaned back against the familiar piece of furniture, you finally summoned the courage to say the words you’d been preparing in your heart for months now.
“I fell for this illusion of this life I’d get to live with you, Ty,” you began. “This life filled with this passionate love we found when we were so young, and evolving into this everlasting commitment to growing a family together, not to mention never having to worry about earning a living, and getting to watch you do what you love night in and night out, with our kids. But somewhere along the line, that illusion finally faded for me. You coaxed me into this life and then you left me here.” As you spoke, tears fell from Tyler’s brown eyes, filled with sorrow and regret. It used to wreck you when he cried. Now it just made you angry. You pressed on.
“I go to bed at night and you’re not here, and I wake up and you’re not here, and even when you’re here, you’re not here. I don’t even think you wanna be. Our kids don’t even think you wanna be.”
Your voice wavered as you delivered those words, and Tyler hung his head.
“You used to be the one place I wanted to be, Tyler,” you continued. “And for a year now, I’ve broken my soul in two looking for you. But I can’t find you. I can’t find the person you used to be. You leave me hanging every single day. Despite the times I’ve begged you over and over again to come back to us. I won’t let you continue to disappoint our family like this.”
You wiped your tears away with the backs of your thumbs and pushed off the dresser, approaching the suitcases and preparing to begin the hardest task you’d ever had to attempt — living a life without Tyler.
“I’m sorry,” he cried in despair, sniffling as he watched you approach the doorway.
“I’ll always love you, Tyler,” you offered softly. “I just can’t do this anymore.”
As he watched you walk out on him, Tyler questioned everything he thought he knew about the life he was leading. What’s a lifetime’s worth of accolades, awards, and achievements if he pushed the ones he loved to the edge?
based loosely off of friends don’t by maddie and tae
word count: 1.3k
warnings: alcohol
a/n: this is for @kiedhara @barzysthighs (i’m not sure which one to tag) and the secret santa fic exchange. hope you enjoy baby 💕
Mat Barzal could pick you out in a crowded room without any issues.
It’s a gift and a curse, you think, as his eyes land on you from across the room. The bar is jam packed from front to back, the Islanders win having people celebrating the chance at a playoff run. You’re attempting to make your way from the bar with your drink intact, the bodies slamming into you making it almost impossible not to lose half of it over the sides. Beau is behind you, hand on your shoulder as you attempt to forge your way to where Mat is waiting.
You hadn’t wanted to come out tonight originally, hellbent on going home after work and sleeping. But Mat, ever the amazing friend, had burst through your door with Beau and Anders in tow, demanding you get ready or else he’d drag you out in your yoga pants and t-shirt. You had grumbled the entire time you got ready, ignoring the way Mat filled your room in ways that felt just right. It was almost pathetic how easily you bent to his will but being in love with your friend did that to you.
Beau pushes you through an opening in the crowd and you breathe a sigh of relief when you lock eyes with Mat. You don’t have to say anything, don’t have to even blink before he’s got an arm around your waist and he’s tugging you into his lap.
“Looks like a battlefield out there, huh?” he says, rubbing his hand up and down your back.
A/N: Wow look at me post part two soon after I started the series! Now I need to hurry up and write the third part but that’s a tomorrow problem. Thank you to everyone who told me what they thought of the start of the series, it really means the world and I hope you’ll like this part too <3
A/N: Hi I’m back!! Starting the year right with a new series (probably about five parts) with Tyler since I haven’t posted a full length fic for him yet. This isn’t fully written so bear with me and my slow updates, I’ve had this outlined for a long time and I’m very excited to start sharing it with you all! Please let me know what you think of it, feedback really means the world. <3
art takes hours to produce and seconds to consume so dont act suprised when artists get upset when their posts only get likes and no reblogs
similarly a piece of writing that takes a few minutes to read could have weeks of work behind it… dont take creativity for granted when ur getting it for free
