12. “Are you wearing my flannel?” with Mathew Barzal 🎃
from M's fall prompt list (requests are closed!)
a/n: for my og tumblr bestie @kerwritesthings ❤️ a little shortie that's based on that damn red and black jacket and that is v v v ✨on brand✨ for me. (promise this is the only one of these six requests that will involve babies lolol)
warnings: mention of pregnancy / babies / kids
word count: 418
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Mat leaned against the bathroom doorpost smirking at you, watching as you finished taming your hair in the mirror. Slowly, his eyes narrowed.
“Are you wearing my flannel?”
Startled by hearing his voice, you jumped at his question, unaware that he had left his perch in the living room watching the Jets game in favor of checking in to see how much longer you would need before meeting some of his teammates and their partners at the pumpkin patch.
“No,” you answered innocently with a poorly hidden grin, lying through your teeth as Mat approached and smoothed his hand over the familiar collar. He giggled.
“Why you lyin’ to me?!” he accused lightheartedly, playfully tugging on the tail of the red and black buffalo-checked garment, which hit at his waist but fell nearly to your knee.
You frowned, running your fingers through your hair one last time.
“Because it’s all that fits me right now!” you whined, and as you turned toward him, you watched his face light up, a wide smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Instantly, his eyes fell to your stomach, the unbuttoned flannel jacket falling around either side of your round belly, covered by a black tank top.
As was his most regular habit these days, Mat’s hands reached for your hips to pull you in close, your growing bump pressed against his stomach. He smiled warmly down at you, pushing some hair back from your face tenderly.
“Now, I doubt that’s true,” he pointed out in a gentle tone, but you folded your arms across your chest and rolled your eyes ungratefully at his words, despite their kindness. Then, your hands fell to your thighs with a pronounced smack.
“Fine, I’ll go change then,” you huffed, moving to turn away from Mat. Before you could escape, he grabbed the sleeves of the jacket and pulled you in.
“Don’t you dare,” he said with a chuckle, his long fingers coming to rest on your stomach. “You look way too fucking cute to change.”
Another eye roll was sent his way.
“Mathew, you can’t say ‘fucking’ in front of the baby.”
“Why? They don’t even have ears.”
Incredulous at how little he seemed to have retained from your daily updates read to him from your pregnancy app, now five months into this process, you halfheartedly hit him in the chest.
I love fall prompts! Can you do 14 with Matty Pls!
“Your hands are cold.” (from @broadstbroskis) and “Can I have a kiss? My lips are cold.”
from M’s fall prompt list
a/n: well, my goal was to have all the fall blurbs done by Thanksgiving, but the next-to-last day of November ain’t too bad, eh?! here is the final installment of this year’s fall blurbs. as you can see, I combined two very similar requests. thanks for all the love on these!
warnings: alcohol, swearing, very light illusions to sex
word count: 1350
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Thanksgiving Eve was simultaneously your favorite and least favorite night of the year; the evening where everyone in their twenties and thirties who was home for the holiday braved the bone-chilling St. Louis cold to barhop between the best haunts in the city.
This year, though… this year, the night was falling heavily on the side of your favorite. Because no longer did you have to singularly dodge old flames and their latest flings, or be cornered by the bathrooms and forced into making awkward small talk with the girl who was apparently trying to pretend she hadn’t tried to ruin your reputation in high school. The night would still hold uncomfortable moments, sure. But now… you didn’t have to face them alone. Because there was Matthew. And there was his hand in your hand and all felt right with the world.
You and Matthew had both grown up in St. Louis, had known each other and run in similar circles before all your lives, but you hadn’t gotten together until almost a year ago, when the company who had hired you straight out of college was purchased by a larger corporation and had offered you a job at their headquarters… in Calgary, of all places. Being that Matthew was the only familiar face for a thousand miles or more, you took a chance and reached out to your old friend and, despite not having spoken more than a few warm words upon bumping into each other in the neighborhood gas station or grocery store in the past four years, Matthew was quick to welcome you into his adopted city with open arms. On one of your first nights in Calgary, he took you to dinner under the premise of showing you around his favorite places in town, and the rest, as they say, is history.
And tonight was your first real foray into the public eye as a couple. St. Louis, as stereotypical as it sounds, was a large city that felt much more like a small town, which meant that everybody and their brother knew who Matthew Tkachuk was and what he did for a living. Which, in turn, meant that for each bar you walked into from the blustery cold, everybody and their brother’s heads were set on a swivel as they turned to gape at the two of you making your entrance together.
The first time, it had set you on edge, but as Matthew led the way through the crowd, with Brady and Emma close on your heels, he threw you a protective glance and then an easy wink over his shoulder, and you felt your chest loosen a bit as he squeezed your hand.
“You good?” Matthew asked softly, bending down to speak in your ear when you reached the bar. You forced a smile and clasped his hand tightly between both of yours, nodding once.
“You sure?” he pressed.
Rather than lie, you simply leveled.
“I’ll be better after you get me a drink.”
He smiled, sensing your unease and understanding its origin, and pressed a kiss to your head.
The second time, after a few rounds of cocktails from the first bar, which had been shoved into your hand by either Matthew or Brady or some combination of your mutual childhood friends, you held your head a little higher, walked a little prouder as you passed the groups of gawking girls on your way to get another drink.
“You good?” Matthew asked again when he turned around from the bar and passed you your mule.
This time, you nodded enthusiastically and intertwined your fingers with his, tugging him toward the dancefloor.
“I’m getting there,” you answered playfully. “Come dance with me,” you pleaded as the beat of Nelly’s Country Grammar, perhaps the most cliche and also beloved St. Louis-centric song of your generation thumped through the speakers and vibrated in your chest.
Unable to resist you even if he wanted to, Matthew smiled, a distinct affection and satisfaction on his face at having you here with him, truly with him, back in your hometown. He thought as he pulled your hips toward him that he simply could not ask for anything more.
The third time, you had enough liquid courage coursing through your veins that, as Matthew stood behind you at the bar, his arms caging you in, you didn’t think twice about pushing up on the toes of your boots to press an eager kiss to his lips, your hand sliding to cup the back of his neck as he smiled.
When you finally let him come up for air, Matthew couldn’t keep the chuckle that tumbled from his lips.
“You good?” he asked, his eyes piercing into yours from behind hooded lids.
You nodded lazily, nudging your nose against his.
“The best,” you answered airily. Matthew hummed appreciatively.
“Yes, you are,” he concurred before pecking your lips.
And soon enough, you weren’t even sure how many bars you had bounced into or how many eyeballs had watched you do so, and you didn’t care, because you were drunk and Matthew was hot and you couldn’t keep your hands off him.
“You good?” Matthew asked again as he pressed his chest flush against your back, turning away from a waning conversation with an old elementary school classmate. You nodded, finishing your drink and placing it on the bar top, then faced him.
You rested your forearms on his shoulders as you leaned into him tantalizingly.
“I’m great, but…” Matthew felt his breathing quicken at the way you paused to bite your bottom lip. “I’m ready to go home,” you said softly, trailing a finger down the buttons of his shirt.
Matthew clumsily ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat, keeping one hand firm on your lower back as he leaned over the bar and flagged down the bartender with the other, all but begging her to close out his tab and return his card so he could get the fuck out of here and do whatever it was that you seemed to have planned for the rest of the evening.
After motioning to Brady and Emma from across the bar that the two of you were leaving (and after Brady’s chin tilt and wink, obviously understanding exactly what was happening), Matthew let himself be dragged out the door by your persistent pull, laughing to himself as you busted through the doors and immediately maneuvered him against the exterior brick of the building, holding tightly to his shirt as your lips found his.
“Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home, baby?” he teased. You simply muttered an “uh-uh” and deepened the kiss, earning a moan from Matthew.
“I have to get us an Uber,” he said half-heartedly, not at all excited to break away from your embrace.
“Already got one. Be here any minute,” you breathed, your lips trailing down his jaw toward his neck as your fingers sneaked up beneath the hem of his shirt to rest on his lower stomach, causing him to break out in a full-body shiver.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispered sharply, taking hold of your hands and enveloping them in his own. “You're bad! Plus your hands are freezing.”
You only giggled as he held your fingers between his chest and his own palms, and you planted a reaching kiss to the underside of his jaw, nipping at his scruffy chin.
Matthew had to giggle, too, shaking his head at your antics.
“I fucking love you,” he said in a near groan, almost as if it pained him, how much he truly adored you. You felt that familiar ache in your chest – it was far from the first time he had said he loved you, but tonight, after the special St. Louis night you’d spent together, his words seemed even more meaningful. More right.
“I fucking love you, too, Matty,” you said with a contented sigh. “You’re the only one I wanna do this hometown holiday bullshit with. Like, ever.”
Matthew grinned at the way you rolled your eyes as you spoke the creative term.
“I wanna be the only one,” he answered, his demeanor becoming more solemn. “Ever.”
A warmth you hadn’t felt before blossomed in your chest, and you were smiling like an idiot as you lost yourself in Matthew’s gaze. Only his voice could pull you out of your trance.
“Now, can I have a kiss? My lips are cold,” he insisted, cocking his head innocently. With a bright chuckle, you leaned in, resting your hand on Matthew’s neck, and obliged.
such a cute blurb list!!!! can you do 6 w auston! 😚
Cuddling to keep warm with Auston Matthews
from M’s fall prompt list
a/n: a week late for Halloween but spooky season vibes anyways
warnings: mention of spooky / scary things, mention of true crime
word count: 900
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You did it to yourself. You were the one solely responsible for scaring the hell out of yourself. You knew that.
And yet, you couldn’t stop.
You’d always had a love/hate relationship with scary movies and shows, since you were a kid getting freaked out by The Goonies or ET or the dog scenes in The Sandlot. Even so, you found yourself drawn to all things spooky, still to this day – willing to teeter fearfully on that line between thrill and terror. Ready to indulge your habit even if it meant nightmares for the next three nights.
Auston, on the other hand, stayed as far away from the spooky stuff as possible, and though he always encouraged you to save the scares for either daylight or for when he was there to comfort you, he was also ever willing to come to the rescue when you ignored his warnings, checking every room in the house for intruders before you fell asleep, or sleeping with the bathroom light on, or laying in bed with at least a hand touching your body at all times, or…
The list could go on.
And tonight… tonight was one of those nights where you really wished you had listened to him.
Auston and the Leafs were finishing out the back half of a home and home in Montreal, and, after watching the team win, you had decided to pop some kettle corn, snuggle on the couch with Felix, and throw on a Youtube documentary about the haunted Villisca Ax Murder house in Iowa, one you’d been meaning to watch during the day to avoid any unintended consequences… but watching in the dark, during a thunderstorm no less, just this once couldn’t hurt, right?
Wrong.
You should have known better.
You jumped at every sound the EVP picked up, every bang against the floors of the creaky house… hell, you even jumped when the furnace in your own house kicked on with a quiet click.
So of course, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a pronounced thud coming from right outside your front door just as the power flickered, adding to the uneasiness of the already blustery October night. Felix’s head popped up from its resting place on your hip, and he stared at the door, letting out a single, warning ruff under his breath. You sat up at the next unnerving sound – the jiggling of your front doorknob.
You sunk into the couch as if attempting to disappear, pulling the hood of Auston’s stolen sweatshirt over your head and wrapping your arms around Felix’s body as you buried your face in his scruffy neck, your pulse quickening.
As the key finally turned the lock, the door swung open, and in from the shadowy night walked Auston, though not from his usual entrance through the garage.
“Sorry, babe – the wind is messing with the sensors and I couldn’t get the garage door to open,” he explained simply as he closed and locked the door once more. “And I knocked over the pumpkin on the doorstep trying to let myself in.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, shaking your head as you exhaled with a huff.
“You scared the hell outta me,” you complained, tipping your head back against the couch just in time to welcome the upside-down kiss Auston laid on your lips. He smiled wide.
“Why, you think somebody’s tryin’ to get ya?” he teased, poking you in the sides. Before you could deny it, his eyes flicked to the TV to see what was onscreen. He sighed.
“Well, no wonder. Babe, you have got to stop watching this paranormal investigation bullshit on Youtube,” he asserted, shaking his head and closing the app. “You’re gonna give yourself panic attacks.”
You pursed your lips, admitting to yourself that he was right, though you’d never concede it aloud.
Auston rounded the side of the couch to take a seat next to you, though Felix unabashedly plopped himself right between your thighs, drawing giggles from you both as you shared an amused look at his desperation to be the sole focus of attention. Auston pulled him close, snuggling Felix against his chest.
“Good boy, Felix. Were you protecting Mama?”
“I think homeboy was just as scared as I was,” you mumbled, tangling your fingers in the fur on his hip.
Auston poked his head out from behind Felix’s, giving you a skeptical look.
“I doubt it.”
You narrowed your eyes.
Auston shivered dramatically, still trying to shake the chill that had settled over him outside. He leaned into you, his head settling in the crook of your neck.
“S’freezing out there,” he complained. “Cuddle me.”
“You’re being mean to me,” you pointed out, though you wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind anyway. “I shouldn’t share my body heat with you.”
Auston hummed. “Yeah, but who’s gonna be the one to keep the monsters at bay for you now that you’ve once again tortured that pretty little head of yours? Hmm?” He turned his head to smirk up at you before settling back against you, kissing your wrist. “So warming me up seems like a pretty nice way to repay me if you ask me.”
You pressed your lips in a tight line, then, with a defeated sigh, reached for your discarded blanket and threw it over his legs and yours.
13. “At least I’m cozy now.” with Anthony Beauvillier 🎃
from M’s fall prompt list
a/n: this gif is so fitting lol
warnings: none
word count: 1100ish
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Everyone always waxes poetic about those crisp autumn evenings, complete with a gentle breeze rustling fallen leaves and a full moon illuminating a clear, starry sky.
But no one feels quite as fond of those pesky, sudden rain showers that can interrupt a perfect autumn evening outdoors.
You had begged your best friend Anthony to leave the comfort of his warm living room to join you in front of the firepit in the chilly backyard. He protested for only a few moments, as you both knew his weak attempt was futile and that he would soon cave under the weight of your beaming smile and big, pleading eyes. With a roll of his own eyes, he sighed and muttered an “alright, alright, fine,” as you squealed and squeezed his shoulders, jumping up from your spot on the couch to grab two more beers from the fridge before pulling him outside to the double chaise lounge in front of the firepit.
For a good half hour, you talked and laughed together, your alternations between lively chatter and comfortable silence feeling as easy as ever as you nursed your beers, thighs touching innocently beneath a thick blanket as you kept the other warm in the sharp night air.
And then, you felt the first wet drop on your nose, gasped, and waited for the “I told you so.”
It couldn’t have just sprinkled – no, the rain was absolutely pelting you, stinging what little bare skin was left exposed to the elements, uncovered by the safety and warmth of Anthony’s clothes wrapped around your body.
He slowly turned his head to you, squinting, his lips set in a straight line. You shrunk under his gaze, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt you wore and uttering a small, apologetic chuckle.
“Uh oh,” you said quietly as Anthony stood, grabbing your beer bottles from the table beside him.
“C’mon, get inside,” he urged, reaching out his hand to you as he turned toward the back door. “Or you’ll catch pneumonia and your mom will never forgive me.”
You giggled, your wry smile absolutely melting Anthony as he shook his head playfully and you slipped your fingers against his palm and hurried the few yards across the deck to the door.
Once inside, you immediately shivered as Anthony pulled the door shut behind you, your teeth beginning to chatter as you crossed your arms in front of you and turned to face him.
And when Anthony instinctively reached out and ran his hands up and down your sides quickly, in an effort to warm you, physical heat wasn’t the only thing you felt. There was a tinge of something else… an electricity that maybe hadn’t been there before. Or, maybe it had, and you simply hadn’t felt it before.
Either way, this was new, and the look in his eyes as he gazed down at you had changed, too, into something less playful, more profound, more tender, more affectionate, and you couldn’t help the shy smile from forming on your lips as you felt heat rise from your belly, to your chest, up your neck and settling in your cheeks. As if to break himself out of his thoughts, Anthony pushed his full lips to one side and cleared his throat.
“C’mere, let’s go get outta these clothes,” he said suddenly, nodding in the direction of his bedroom. But the he realized what he had just said, and his eyes widened and you had to stifle a laugh. “N-not like… not like in a weird way,” he stumbled. “I-I just don’t want you to have to wear sopping wet clothes, I-”
You breathed a chuckle and smoothed a hand across Anthony’s chest briefly as you passed him, needing to put a little distance between him and you as you headed for his room.
“I knew what you meant,” you assured over your shoulder, though, from the way it fluttered in your chest, your heart apparently didn’t believe the words your mouth had formed.
Once in his room, Anthony grabbed a fresh set of sweats from a drawer for each of you, offering yours with a polite smile and an invitation to change in the en suite. You nodded, nervously (why were you nervous?) tucking your hair behind your ear as you moved to the bathroom, where you caught just the quickest glimpse of Anthony staring after you as you closed the door, resting your forehead against it as it swung shut, a grin on your face so wide it hurt your cheeks.
After changing out of the wet clothes and into the dry ones, you combed your fingers through your still-wet hair and reached for a towel, grabbing an extra one for Anthony to dry out his own hair. You opened the door to find a half-dressed Anthony, just sliding his sweatshirt over his toned torso, and you swallowed hard at the sight of his defined muscles, stopping in your tracks. Once he pulled the hoodie down completely, his eyes met yours, and you shook yourself out of whatever weird trance you’d been in, stepping forward and offering him the towel.
“Thank you,” he said softly, rubbing the terrycloth back and forth across his hair as you squeezed your towel around your own strands. Anthony then tossed his towel in a pile with his discarded clothing, smirking. “Guess I gotta do a load of laundry,” he teased, nodding at the heap on the floor.
“Sorry… I’ll throw it in,” you offered, your shoulders sagging. “I’m the one who dragged you out there in the cold in the first place,” you said, squeezing the last of the droplets from your hair and dropping the towel atop the other items.
Anthony shrugged, a smile playing on his full lips. “S’okay,” he said easily. “You know I’ll do anything as long as I get to spend time with you. And besides…” he said, stepping toward you in a slow and tentative yet purposeful way that made your heart ache inexplicably. “At least I’m cozy now,” he added softly, smoothing his hands up and down your arms, now covered by the soft cotton of an oversized Isles hoodie.
You nodded, swallowing thickly as his big blue eyes pierced into yours.
“Yeah, at least,” you whispered breathlessly, Anthony leaning closer, closer, closer, until his lips finally met yours in a kiss that felt equal parts completely surprising and totally expected, and you knew he was thinking the same as he smiled against your mouth a moment later.
