#Mat Barzal fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

islesnucks · 2 months

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𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓵 - Mathew Barzal x Reader

Summary: what started as an accidentall voicemial to your ex boyfriend ended up becoming routine and maybe even more TW: none that i can think of

Word count: 3.9k A/N: completely made up game schedule btw

Masterlist Add yoruself to the taglist if you wanna be notified when i post the fic!

“Hey, it’s Mat.” His voice echoed through the phone, so familiar yet strangely distant now. You’d heard him speak in interviews, but this was different. He was addressing you, or at least the voicemail version of you. “I can’t answer right now, so you know what to do.”

You didn’t know what to do. Calling your ex-boyfriend, the one you had broken up with months ago, wasn’t something you had exactly planned. Yet, when the acceptance email for the program you had worked tirelessly for arrived, the one he had witnessed you pour your heart into, he was the person you wanted to share it with. So that’s what you were doing, trying no to overthink it before nerves got the best of you.

“Mat, hi. This is so random—H-how are you?” Thank God he didn’t answer, you were a stuttering mess leaving a voicemail imagine if it had been him on the other end instead. “I got in! Into the program I mean. I don’t know why, but I wanted to tell you. You helped me so much before—” you cut yourself again. It didn’t feel right to mention the break up like that, but what could you say? Before I broke up with you? Before I stumbled out of your apartment leaving you behind without an explanation?

“Fuck it. I can’t do this.” You pulled your phone away from your ear and touched the red dot.

That’s it. He didn’t need to know, he probably wouldn’t even care. Who would want their ex to call to tell them they were doing great? That maybe after all the breakup was worth it because they had gotten into the program they had neglected their relationship for? Too long, right?

A second later, realization struck like lightning – you had ended the call before deleting the voicemail. It had been sent.

“Oh no, no, no!” you exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. There was no turning back. Mat would undoubtedly hear you stumbling over your words. Why couldn’t you have just left well enough alone? The last thing he needed was you barging back into his life with a pathetic voicemail about something he likely moved on from. ‘He probably already despises me after how everything unfolded, and now this’ you thought.

You were wrong, because no longer than 5 minutes after everything had gone down your phone was buzzing in your hand, Mat’s contact bright in the center as he now waited for you to pick up for a change.

“Mat.” you picked up.

“Hey. You called me?” He sounded confused, for very obvious reasons. Nevertheless it was nice to hear his voice now directed at you.

“Yeah, right. I left you a voicemail.” You rolled your eyes. At least you sounded less nervous than earlier on the voicemail, but it was not less embarrassing.

Mat’s voice came through, cool and collected. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t check. I just saw the missed call and, you know.”

“Sure, sure.” you replied, trying to sound half as calm as he seemed to be with the whole situation.

“Do you want me to hear it or …” his offer hovered in the air.

“No! I mean, I can tell you.” You cringed at the thought of him hearing your rambling voicemail. “So, I called because I just got the mail. I got into the program!”

“Shut up! That’s great! Congratulations!” Mat’s excitement burst through the line. Your heart melted a little. After everything that had happened he sounded genuinely happy for you.

“Thank you, Maty.”

Mat’s tone softened. “You deserve it, after all the hard work you put into it. I knew you’d get it.”

You chuckled, the tension easing. “I know, I know. You told me like a million times. I was just insecure.”

For a second you let yourself imagine this was under other circumstances. You were still together and he was calling you right after practice or from another city in one of his roadies. He’d come back home eventually and hug you so tight you wouldn’t be able to breath, probably lift you up and spin you around a little. You wouldn’t be able to stop laughing and-

“I know …” Mat’s response brought you back to reality. The reality in which he wouldn’t knock on your door with his arms wide open.

His tone carried an easy understanding. He definitely knew about your insecurities. They played a huge role on why your relationship was the way it was right now: nonexistent.

“So that’s what the voicemail said?” He broke the silence.

“Yeah, basically. But you know, all giddy and stuff. Really embarrassing.”

Mat’s laughter grew louder, and you could practically see him shaking his head. “Oh, really? Well, now I have to hear it.”

“No, no, no.” you protested, your embarrassment deepening. “Seriously, don’t Barzal. I know where you live.”

But Mat insisted, his curiosity piqued. “Come on! Embrace the cringe. It can’t be that bad.”

He ended the call before you could object anymore, only to call you back a minute later. Mat’s laughter erupted again as soon as you picked up, and you couldn’t help but join in, the shared humor dissipating the lingering awkwardness. If you closed your eyes you could almost picture him with that scrunched up nose as he laughed.

“The ‘fuck it, i can’t do this’ was the best part by far.”

The familiar buzz of the MSG postgame show filled the cozy confines of your living room as Mat’s name flashed brightly on your phone, catching you off guard. Shannon and Hickey were in full praise mode, replaying Mat’s epic goal on loop, and there he was, the main attraction, waiting on the other end of the line for you to pick up.

You fumbled for your phone, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you swiped to answer. “Hey, I didn’t expect your call.” you remarked, the commentator’s voices still ringing in your ears.

“Bad timing?” Mat’s voice crackled through the phone, a hint of breathlessness underscoring his words – probably still riding the adrenaline high from the ice.

“No, no. It’s just that a second ago you were on my screen falling all over the ice.” you teased, imagining his less-than-graceful moments on the rink.

“I don’t fall that much!” he argued, sounding mildly offended.

“You do, but you also score, so it’s forgiven. Congrats on your almost hatty, by the way.” You chuckled, knowing how much he loathed falling a goal short. Always so hard on himself.

Mat scoffed, clearly annoyed at missing the mark. “So, you watched tonight?”

“Obviously, I watch every game I can catch.” you replied, the excitement of the game still coursing through your veins. The thrill of watching Mat succeed, even from a distance, even after all that happened, was undeniable.

“You should come, you know. I’m sure the girls would love to see you.” Mat suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of longing.

“I don’t know, Mat. It’s not my place anymore.” you hesitated, letting the uncertainty hang in the air. You had to change the subject before your mind started spiraling. “Anyway, why did you call?”

“Oh, right. I listened to your voicemail again!”

“So you called to tell me you haven’t actually deleted it like you promised?”

“I heard it right before the game and got 2 goals and 2 assists. I think it’ll become my new pregame ritual, honestly.” Mat admitted, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of nostalgia. Why had he chosen to hear it? That’s something he would save for himself for now. The shared memories of your past flitted between you, unspoken but palpable.

“Really? Want me to send embarrassing voicemails before every game?”

“I’d love it. Yes, please.” Mat replied with a laugh, the warmth of his laughter washing over you like a comforting embrace. The playful banter held a certain intimacy, a bridge between past flames and the uncharted territory of what lay ahead.

The banter flowed seamlessly, a blend of shared history and the current moment. The familiarity was comforting, but the unspoken complexities of your past lingered in the air, a delicate tension.

NYI vs. TBL - November 5th

“Hey, Barzy. I don’t know if you were joking or not but here’s your pregame embarrassing voicemail as solicited. You weren’t serious, right? Well fuck it, enjoy it or ignore me whatever.”

NYI vs. CGY - November 7th

“Just walked past that coffee shop where we had our third or fourth date I think. Remember how you choked over your latte when I lied and said I loved the Rangers?”

NYI vs. SEA - November 9th

“Hey, you won’t believe who I just saw. That guy that lives in the building across the street, the one that has your face tattooed on his left arm. He asked about you, told me to wish you good luck. So good luck from him … and from me. Good luck tonight.”

NYI vs. VAN - November 11th

“Hi! Your sister told me your family is going tonight, so send them a kiss from me, ok? … I-I keep in touch with her, I don’t know if you knew that or like maybe I should’ve told you? Are you ok with that? I’m sorry I just assumed you would be. Anyway, good luck! Say hi from me! Or don’t if you don’t want to-”

NYI vs. NYR - November 16th

“Dude. Rangers tonight. Don’t mess it up. May have bet on you guys with a guy from work, I don’t wanna have to pay for his lunch tomorrow. Please. Good luck, 13.”

NYI vs. PIT - November 18th

“Shit, shit, shit. Hope you can hear this before the game. I’m still getting used to the program’s schedule and all of that, I’m kind of a mess right now. Anyway, good luck!”

NYI vs. DET - November 20th

“Maty, hi! I know this is kind of dumb because I saw you like 10 minutes ago and I’m in the building but still thought I should leave the voicemail just in case. (Come on!) Ok I have to go, Sydney has a tone of gossip to catch me up on. Good luck!”

NYI vs. DAL - November 23th

“Hello Mr Barzal, I won’t be able to watch tonight, but still good luck! Even if you don’t win, I hope you score a goal, make an assist. That 8 game point streak you have going on is insane. I think I’ll start charging you for this if they are working so well.Good luck Barzy!”

NYI vs. STL - November 26th

“Hey! First of all, good luck! Second, I left my scarf at the Lee’s last night. It’s red, I was wearing it when you picked me up. Grace said Anders would give it to you tonight. Maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow so you can give it back? Anyway, good luck!”

NYI vs. CHI - November 28th

“13, hello! I don’t have anything funny to tell you today so just good luck! Love you- shit, sorry. Habit I guess. Bye.”

NYI vs. NYR - November 30th

“You have zero new voicemails. To record a new personal greeting press one-”

You tried everything to get your mind off it, but it wasn’t working. The cup of tea was now cold in your hand and you couldn’t even pretend to care what was going on in the movie you had playing on your tv. The game had ended an hour ago but it was on replay in your mind.

It was silly to think it was your fault. You couldn’t influence the score of the match, the 5-1 loss against the Rangers wasn’t on you. However the outcome would’ve been different if their starplayer hadn’t been taking stupid penalties, losing the puck, causing turnovers. That could be on you partially.

The bell ringing caught you by surprise, almost dropping the cold tea. You got up to answer, even though you had a feeling you knew who was waiting by your building’s door.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” The familiar voice needed no introduction.

“Mat? What are you doing here?”

“Buzz me in.” he requests, and you could practically hear the determination in his tone. With a resigned sigh, you pressed the buzzer, knowing full well he wouldn’t leave until he got what he came for.

A few moments later, a knock sounded at the door, and you found yourself face to face with him. Determination was bright in his eyes, your heart started racing.

“What’s going on?” He rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by your attempt at pretending not to know why he’s there.

“You didn’t leave a voicemail.” Mat strided in without waiting for an invitation, and the unspoken tension was palpable.

“Right, that. I guess I forgot. Sorry.” you lied, trying to sound convincing but knowing there’s no use, he’d know. You closed the door behind him almost instinctively, as if shutting out the forthcoming emotional storm that’s about to break in your apartment.

“You’ve been sending me a voicemail before every single game for the past month.” he remarked, his gaze keenly picking up on your avoidance. Frustration started to take over. He already had been in this position before, begging you for explanations and all you did was look away. “Please, don’t shut me out. Not again.”

“I got confused, okay? Why are we doing this? I’m your ex-girlfriend, I broke up with you, Mat. And now I’m going to your games and sending you voicemails every game? What even is this?”

At some point you started walking all over the living room, the distress was clear. Mat was better at hiding it, he stood still by the door like he had been since he walked in, but you could see his hands fidgeting. Neither of you had a clear head to take on what was about to come, chaos was inevitable.

“I don’t know, but I thought you liked this. I thought it was like an inside joke, our own thing.”

“It was that. But you’re not supposed to have that with your ex.” you said, trying to emphasize the last word for him, as if a reminder of your status would help the situation in any way.

“We’re friends?” He furrowed his brows, and, had it not been for the situation you were in, you would’ve laughed at the way even he sounded so unsure of what he was saying.

“Mat, come on. It’s confusing, I know I was getting confused. It started with the voicemails, which was already something, but then we’re talking every day, I’m going to your games again and team’s gatherings, we’re hanging out again. I said ‘I love you’ on my last one!” You finally looked at him, baring it all. There was only one solution in your mind and it had to be taken no matter the pain it would undoubtedly cost you. “I think it’s better if we stop.”

There was a moment of silence, he looked at you as if trying to read through the wall you were hiding behind. Trying to decipher if it was you speaking or your insecurities had taken over again. Most importantly, trying to figure out if this time he had what it took to get to you before he lost you.

“I don’t want it to stop.” he said, determination clear in his voice. In a second he closed the gap between you. The proximity caught you off guard, you couldn’t remember the last time you were this close. “Tell me you don’t feel anything.” It sounded almost like a beg, but he didn’t care.

“We broke up.” you insisted, trying to sound all resolute.

“You broke up with me.” he corrected you, his gaze holding steady, slicing through your defenses.

“We weren’t working, Mat! We could barely see each other, and when we did, we were too tired or stressed. We fought a lot. We broke up.” It sounded almost childish the way you stubbornly persisted on it, like you needed to reassure yourself more than him how things had played out last time.

“Couples fight sometimes; it’s normal. I was stressed about the playoffs, and you were stressed about getting into the program. It was a bad moment, yes, but that’s over.”

“Other problems are gonna come up.”

“We can face them together, we fight and make up. That’s it, that’s how couples work.”

You paused for a second, it made no sense to keep on repeating yourself. It seemed like he had a solution for every obstacle you presented. He had come here for answers, it was time to give them to him even if you were answering older already forgotten questions.

“I was scared, Mat. I was scared and insecure, and it felt like I was ruining it all.” Tears start rolling down your face and there’s nothing he wants more than to hug you, keep you close to his chest, push the pain away; but he knows he shouldn’t. You’re finally letting down your guard, telling him what he’s been dying to hear for months; he has to give you space to be vulnerable. “I thought it was better to break things up before they got really nasty.” your voice wobbled.

“I get it, I really do. But you could’ve told me and I should’ve been more present, not left you alone to deal with our problems. We could’ve tried to make it work. ” He looked deep into your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of understanding and unwavering love. “I know I loved you more than enough to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about how I ended things, and I’m sorry about the voicemail and all the mess I’ve caused.” You tried to walk away from him, the proximity being too much, but he caught your arm making you face him once again.

Tears started streaming down his face as you tried to grapple with the weight of your own decisions. He looked you in the eyes, the determination from earlier is still there, even behind the tears those glossy eyes told you he wasn’t gonna leave in silence like last time. This time he had to leave it all out, even if he ended up hurt in the process.

“When you first called me I was too nervous to answer so I let it go to voicemail. I think even then I knew it wasn’t over for me, I knew hearing your voice would bring it all back.” You winced, acutely aware of the emotional turmoil you’ve caused. What you didn’t know was he wasn’t worried about pain coming back; what worried him was all the love he had for you and had pushed away after the break up coming back and once again not having where to put it.

“But then I wanted to hear you, the real you, not the voicemail, so I called you. I cannot tell you how happy it made me to hear you, like my heart was beating again after months of numbness. And you were telling me this great news, when you got that acceptance letter you wanted to tell me.” he continued, and you released a heavy breath, a half-smile forming on your face. He was right, the first person you wanted to share your triumph with was him, you hadn’t thought much about it back then but no it was so clear.

“I replayed your voicemail before the game that first time because I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I heard you over the phone earlier that day, and all I wanted was to hear you again talking to me.” he confessed, a mixture of vulnerability and longing in his words. “At first I thought maybe I was making it up, you know? Maybe it was just my unresolved feelings, maybe there was nothing going on. But you called me first and then you kept on sending the voicemails. Things were going back to the way they were before. It felt like I was me again, like we were us again.”

Mat smiled thinking how everyone could notice; his friends, his teammates, his family, everyone could see the old Mat was back. He told them off, too afraid to consider you were all he was missing because he knew he didn’t have you back, not yet.

His hand gently cupped your face, sending a shiver down your spine. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch. You missed it, there was no denying it anymore. You missed it all too much—his touch, his voice, his energy, his very presence. Him.

“You said ‘I love you’ on the last voicemail. I replayed it like 20 times at least, just to hear those three words. From you, to me.” The weight of those three words hung in the air between the two of you after so long, it was electrifying. Your heart raced; he was about to say it, and you yearned to hear it.

“I love you.” he declared, and there was no ambiguity this time. It wasn’t a recall of your words; this time, it was his confession to you.

“Maty…” was all you managed to say; his nickname laden with tenderness and echoes of old fears that still lingered.

“I want this. I want you even if I can only see you two times a week and even if half that time you are studying or working or stressing over both. I want to be there with you. I want to fight and make up. I want all of it, the messy and ugly included.”

“I love you.” you finally whispered.

It was over. He loved you, you loved him, and there was nothing left to say.

In that breath-holding moment, he leaned down, his lips finally touching yours. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a wild ride through forgiveness, longing, and the silent agreement to dive back into the messy and the beautiful, hand in hand. He was smiling into the kiss, so were you. The taste of salt from their tears lingered, mingling with the sweetness of the moment. The kiss spoke of second chances and the magic of beginnings, a promise to rewrite the story that had once unraveled.

You pulled away, breathless and teary-eyed, yet a radiant joy painted across your faces. You laughed, a melody of relief and newfound hope. One of his hands was on your back as the other traveled from your face to the back of your head, pulling you against his chest. Your arms hugged his torso tight.

“I love you.” he mumbled against your head before placing a kiss on top.

NYI vs. MTL - December 1st

“Hey! Good luck tonight babe-”

“I don’t think it counts if I’m literally next to you when you record it.”

“Shush. Who’s the voicemail expert here? Me. Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me: good luck tonight, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

soooooo it’s here! hope you like it! like and reblogs are always appreciated!

it felt so good to write again and to share it too, hope i have more time this year to write more stuff

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gisellaswrld · 5 months

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overwhelming how much i am grateful; you are her own.

mb13 | mat requests that you and your daughter attend the home game for your daughters 4th birthday. somehow, mat conjures up the best birthday present for your daughter.

If you asked Amelia what she wanted for her birthday, it was to watch Mat play hockey. Not toys or books, she wanted to watch Mat play hockey. Amelia had watched him play on TV and always requested to go see him play in person.

The only thing keeping her from watching in person was you.

You and Mat had been dating for around a year by this point. A year filled with laughter and love. You appreciated the true feelings that were built in the relationship. The only thing that had not happened was you and Mat going public. Of course, it wasn’t that big of a deal. On social media, Mat was popular with the ladies. The thought of getting hateful messages from the media was lingering in your head.

But frankly, how could you say no to your daughter’s only birthday request?

You had met some of Mat’s friends before, along with their wives. In general, they were so kind to you. When some of the wags found out you were attending a game, they were ecstatic. They had invited you to join them to the pregame get together. Of course, you accepted.

“Are you gonna cheer me on, Milly?” Mat asked, grabbing his jacket from where it was hanging.

Amelia had a bright smile on her face, digging her fork into the cake you had made. “Yes!” She replied, food falling out of her mouth.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” You reminded, leaning against the lip of the counter.

“It’s my birthday, don't get mad at me.” Amelia shook her finger at you, sassiness filling her tone.

Mat disappeared back into his bedroom, coming back with a box in his hands. You furrowed your brows, curious what was in the box. Amelia had already opened all her presents from you and Mat. So this last box raised some confusion in your brain.

“What’s this?” Amelia asked, pushing the plate forward towards you.

“Open it,” Mat stated, his eyes flickering between you and Amelia.

Amelia ripped open the box, staring at the blue and orange jersey in the box. Amelia pulled the item of clothing out. It was an Islanders jersey, on the back Barzal was etched into the fabric.

“It’s just like yours!” Amelia looked up to Mat with bright eyes. “Mommy, look! It’s just like dads!”

“It is!” You watched as your daughter excitedly laid the jersey out on the table.

Amelia looked so happy while staring at the jersey. You noticed it immediately. It was such a hearty feeling to see Amelia joyous over a hockey jersey.

“Thank you! ThankyouThankyouThankyou!” Amelia looked at Mat, holding her arms out to him.

Mat catched the hint, pulling the small girl out of the chair. Amelia tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, giddy of delight. Mat held the girl in his arms, placing a kiss to her head.

“You’re welcome,” Mat replied, putting her down on the ground. “I’ve got to go, you are meeting up with the other girls, right?” Mat asked, walking over to you.

“Yes, I am. Good luck, alright?” You smiled.

“I will-”

“Matty, you better play good! If you don’t, you won’t play with dolls with me for a week!” Amelia sternly told him, a serious look on her face.

“I will, Milly. Don’t you worry.” Mat replied, turning his attention back to you.

He placed a quick kiss on your lips before rushing out the door. Amelia had the jersey clutched in her hands, starting to dance around the kitchen of Mat’s house. You were watching her as you cleaned up her mess of cake. Amelia was continuously chanting, “I’m gonna be just like dad.” while parading around the room.

You quickly learned of her new name for Mat, still not necessarily knowing when it started. You just woke up one morning and heard Amelia call Mat ‘dad’. You were shocked, to say the least. More than shocked, you were thankful. It made you think of all the things that Mat had done to help you and Amelia.

It made you feel loved, finally learning what it was like to be treated well by a man. A lot of your previous insecurities fleeted away after Amelia called Mat dad. The insecurities being replaced by love and safety.

The other girls were piled into two cars, Amelia (unsafely) sitting on your lap. Emma, Anthony’s wife, was seated next to you. Emma was the WAG you were exceptionally close to. This was due to the fact that Anthony and Mat were close as well. You met Emma before any of the other wives and girlfriends.

Emma was sweet and babysat Amelia a handful of times.

“We should get there when warm ups are starting, so we will go down to the boards first.” Emma informed the group of girls.

“I swear if they lose today, I will lose my mind. I’m tired of Adam coming home in a crappy mood.” Jen complained, physically face palming.

“Mat’s team better not lose.” Amelia grumbled, looking up at the girls. “Not on my birthday.”

The girls laughed. “I’m sure they will play better just for you, princess.” Jen smiled, patting Amelia’s head.

Once parked and inside, the arena was filled with fans. The Islanders were playing the Capitals tonight, Mat was sure they’d win. Jen led the girls to security, which led to them getting ushered down to the boards to avoid the crowd. Amelia clutched onto you tightly, nervous from the large number of people.

Amelia wore the jersey Mat gave her, a black long sleeve underneath to combat the cold. Amelia told everyone in the group about the jersey, always bringing it up. She was the top entertainment of the night for the group.

You stood next to Jen, who pointed out where Anthony and Mat were. Amelia squealed, placing her hand against the glass.

“There! Momma, there’s daddy!” Amelia cheered, pointing at Mat across the ice.

“I see, Mils.” You held her tight to your body. Though you refused to admit it, Amelia was getting bigger, so holding her for a long amount of time started to tire out your arms. “I’m gonna set you down, okay?”

You sat Amelia down, her head barely popping over the boards. Matt Martin skated over to Mat and Anthony, nudging them. Matt pointed over to you and Jen, leading to both boys skating over to the three.

“He’s coming over, mommy!” Amelia squealed, standing on her tiptoes to look over the boards.

Mat stopped before he collided with the boards, squatting down to look at Amelia. He held his hand against the glass, Amelia placing her hand on the opposite side.

“Better play good, daddy!” Amelia shouted, a bright smile on her face.

Mat let out a laugh, saying something inaudible before joining his team. You scooped Amelia back into your arms, following Jen back up to the main area of the arena. Security guards found you guys, leading the group up the box. Everyone got comfortable, chatting before the game started.

It was now nearing the end of the third period, Islanders leading 5-2. Mat had scored three goals so far, he was playing an amazing game. The girls kept commenting about how you were his good luck charm.

In the last minute of the game, Mat scored his final goal. It clicked in your head quickly, four goals for Amelia. You noticed it quickly, watching as he played more aggressively on offense. He was making lots of attempts throughout the night, hoping to score as many goals as possible.

Amelia cheered for the goal, jumping around in front of the glass.

“That’s four! Four points!” Amelia cheered, clapping her hands. You took out your phone, recording a video of her excited reaction.

“Four goals for the big four year old!” Emma smiled, fist bumping Amelia.

The box erupted in cheers, you just taking a sip from your drink. The whole game, the smile on your face was never once erased. All your nerves about taking Amelia to a crowded arena filled with rowdy men seemed to cease to nothing.

The game ended, the Islanders winning 6-2. The girls waited in the box for another twenty minutes before going down to the tunnel. Most of the boys were leaving already. A few were stuck in the dressing room, doing media. Mat was one of them, considering he played one of his best games all season.

Another ten minutes passed, Amelia starting to get grouchy. Soon enough, Mat exited the room, Amelia instantly perking up. She reached out of him, a cheesing smile plastered on her face. Mat took her into his arms, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You did so great!” Amelia smiled, pressing her hands against Mat’s red face. “You got four goals, Matty. I guess you can still play dolls with me.” Amelia leaned her head against Mat’s shoulder.

“You guess?” Mat let out a laugh. “Got four goals just for you, Milly.”

Your face warmed at his words, your suspicions being quickly proven. You pulled out your phone, quickly snapping a picture of Mat and Amelia. You loved to capture little moments like this, always enjoying looking back at them.

“Four goals for me? Oh! Cause I’m four now! You got them for me!” Amelia squealed, her excitement seeping from her small body. A yawn fell from her mouth, her mood quickly shifting. “I’m tired.” She mumbled.

You and Mat both let out a laugh. “Time to put the princess in bed.” You commented. “For sure, you guys are staying with me again tonight?” Mat asked, leading you out of the hallway.

“Yes.”

By the time you guys got out to Mat’s car, Amelia was asleep in his arms. Mat safely buckled her into the carseat, tossing his bag into the trunk of the car. The radio was kept at a low volume as you guys drove home.

Mat had his hand tightly clasped in yours.

“She wouldn’t shut up about you all night,” You spoke quietly, careful to not wake the sleeping girls.

“Is that right?” Mat raised his eyebrows, glancing at you quickly.

“Yup, every other word was your name.” You replied, your eyes fixated on the man. “She had a lot of fun.”

“Did you have fun?” Mat asked, his focus on the road in front of him.

“I did, you make it hard to not have fun.” You admitted, a small smile on your face. “The girls think I’m your good luck charm, they are silly.” You shook your head, a small laugh falling from your mouth.

“You are, baby. You give me a reason to play good,” Mat replied, causing a small blush to form on your face.

“Better keep me around for a while, so that you’ll always play good.” You playfully replied.

“I planned on keeping you around for a while.”

Your face glowed a bright red, though the dark atmosphere kept it hidden. Your body filled with the feeling you thought you’d never feel again. A feeling that had been long forgotten since you’ve been with Amelia’s biological father. After he left, you swore to never fall in love with someone.

Then Mat showed up and he became your only exception.

#nhl #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey #hockey imagines #father mat barzal #mat barzal x y/n #mat barzal x you #mat barzal oneshot #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fic #mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal imagine

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residenthughes · 2 months

Text

slow sundays - mat barzal

pairing: mat barzal x gender neutral reader

word count: 1k

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, no mention of y/n

summary: any day spent with barzal is always good, especially sundays.

notes: a little something i wrote when i should have been sleeping, oops! may write a longer version, may not but i'll definitely write up something else longer for barzy, as well as some other fics that i've started and am very excited to share, hehe! as always, hope this finds u well and that you enjoy this small ball of fluff. much love! <3

oh! forgot to mention, this post is inspired by this post by @novelbear! they spoil tumblr rotten with such adorable prompts! :)

Sundays are your favourite days of the week. The normal anxieties that creep in from a long lived weekend cease to exist in your timeline, a day defined by slow sweetness and sacred serenity. This year you’ve really lucked out with said day, most of Mat’s games scheduled another time and on the off chance he has practice, it’s before you can even pry yourself from the comfort of your cloud-like mattress. This is one of those Sundays, where you’re tucked away in citrus scented sheets, fast asleep as Mat presses a tender kiss on the bridge of your nose before he goes off to do what he does best, leaving you to emerge from your cocoon whenever you please.

You decide shortly after Mat departs to desert the covers, arranging them neatly with a sleepy pout set onto your puffy lips before starting your share of morning chores. Amidst the array of bits and bobs you cater to around your cosy home, you cook up a breakfast built for two - piping hot and ready to eat by the time Mat’s car pulls up the driveway.

You drape your arms lazily around his nape, beaming a lovesick grin as you peck your long-time lover. “Good practice?”

“Great practice,” he breathes against you, minty fresh with the faint waft of his accompanying cologne. His strong arms pull you impossibly closer, your body snug in his embrace. “But I’ve got better things waiting for me right here.”

His large hands cup a handful of your butt, giving it a cheeky squeeze that involuntarily makes you jump against him, your cheeks crimsoning. “And to think, that’s the thanks I get for making us breakfast.”

Mat releases his grip as you back away, disbelief washing all over his sculpted features as he gives you a cocked eyebrow and a petty laugh. “Says the one who-”

Your hand comes up, an index finger raised. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Wordlessly, Mat holds his hands up in surrender, brazen-faced as you send him an eye-roll with crossed arms. Despite the circumstances, your hands find the top of his zipper, opening up his coat before you hang it up near the door in perfect routine. The selfless action still warrants one of your favourite kisses from your boyfriend, kisses from side-to-side - a kiss on the cheek, nose and cheek again. A simple action but one that robs you of all oxygen, a lightness in your limbs and a tingle down your spine. You soon turn around with Mat trailing not far behind as you venture back to your spacious kitchen, settling at the quaint table for two - a single vase rose separating your plates packed with all your breakfast favourites.

Before you have the chance to take your seat at your baby blue painted table, Mat comes up from behind you, cradling you in his sugary embrace as he plants a delicate kiss against your temple, your heart overflowing with the magic of your slow Sundays together. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You hum blissfully, a hand delicate against his stubble-ridden cheek as you simply exist together, limbs tangled as you savour the moment like sand slipping through your fingertips. A quick kiss against Mat’s prickly cheek puts a pause on the moment, your grin giddy as your hand takes Mat’s as you direct him to sit, which he does - no questions asked, fuschia dusted upon the apples of his cheeks.

You fall into perfect routine, your brunch a show that consists of all your favourites: Mat’s cutlery glimmering in the soft rays pouring into the windowed kitchen as he cuts his food, ceremoniously offering you the first bite of his food with the same smitten closed mouth smile that he had the first day he met you. Happily, you accept his generous offer and take a bite, beaming with full rosy cheeks as he swipes the crumbs with such an earnest shimmer in his eyes that it makes your heart squeeze with joy.

Your brunch continues in similar fashion, two enamoured partners basking in the company of another as you bond over a hearty plate of food, time lost in endless dialogues and timeless ‘I love you’s. When there’s nothing but crumbs speckled across your ceramic plates, Mat shoos you away before you can get a protest in, you resorting to sulking on the edge of couch as the sounds of plates clinking together competes with the noise coming from the TV.

When everything’s said and done, the washing up dried and packed away, Mat shuffles into the lounge, falling into the couch with a grunt as he positions himself as close to you as possible. You can never bring yourself to mind, head falling to his broad shoulder once he’s propped his feet against the hickory coffee table with his arm circling your shoulders. Another kiss atop your head tells you he’s settled and you melt into his side, no objections sounding from your long-time boyfriend as reruns of 'The Bachelor' blare from the TV. If anything, Mat immerses just as much as you. Well, as much as the slightly fatigue man can as his fingers absently fiddle with locks of your hair, the gesture a lullaby that aids your sudden drowsiness that links hands with the warmth emitting from Mat’s body that always fits against yours like a puzzle piece.

Before you’re able to drift away into a shallow slumber, a slumber you both shall share prior to your simple plans for the day, Mat’s sleep-laced voice calls out to you.

“Waking up next to you is the best part of my day.”

And you chuckle softly because of the simple fact you know this to be true - evidenced in the way affirmations of love fall so easily from his lips, in the way he never allows you to walk near any busy roads and buys you flowers just because. And, best of all, when your precious Sunday comes and goes, your Monday view consists of your beautiful boyfriend as you reverse out of your driveway, a sleepy smile mellowed into his features as he sees you off, hollering one and the same line wishing you a great day at work, which is nothing but granted if you’ve got him by your side.

#mb13 #mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x you #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #new york islanders #ny isles #ny islanders #residenthughes

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drewsbuzzcut · 3 months

Text

Champion In The Bed

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT (very little spanking, teasing, and slightly edited) let me know if I missed anything

takes place February 2024

You follow Mat’s gaze as you’re sitting, straddling his lap and leaning back on your hands. He ogles your jersey and backwards cap clad form, and it’s not just any jersey, it’s his all star skills jersey. The material hangs off your body as it’s too big for you, but it does a nice job at hiding your black lingerie. His eyes pick up on the way you come off shy, but your fingers fiddling with his happy trail tells him otherwise. His hands rub your thighs and he subtly goes higher until they’re hidden under the jersey. Your body breaks out in chills just from his touch alone.

Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. It’s obvious that it’s Mat’s goal to tease you until you’re at your wits end. You attempt remaining stoic so he doesn’t know just how bad you want him, but each time he licks his lips or lets his eyes dip down to your covered up cunt, you feel your resolve start to disappear. It doesn’t help that he’s completely naked underneath you. His length stands at attention, waiting to be touched by you.

“Maty,” you whisper and softly adjust yourself so you’re leaning in closer to him.

“What, pretty girl?” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear after pulling his cap off your head, and you so badly want to suck his fingers into your mouth.

“I’m so proud of you. My hotshot, hockey boyfriend who is an all star. Fuck the skills comp, at least you can get me to cum. Plus, you looked so sexy in your jersey,” you whisper the praise in his ear, nipping at the lobe to get a small moan out of him.

“Not as sexy as you look in it,” he compliments as the tip of his nose trails along a vein in your neck. Your smooth, sweet perfume consumes him.

“Let me show you how proud I am. Let me ride you,” you plead, letting your lips on his jaw persuade him. You slip his cap back onto his head, backwards of course. He’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen, and it makes you insanely wet, you can feel it pooling in your underwear.

Your hips start to move on top of him, but his hands quickly land on your hips to halt your movements. You let out a disappointed huff that makes him chuckle.

“I thought this was about me?” He tuts and you nod your head in agreement.

“Then you’re going to be my good girl and wait until I’m ready for you to show me just how proud you are,” he chastises with a spank delivered to your ass. You let out a faint moan and throw your head back in frustration. He’s touching you but not enough and not where you need him most.

He lifts the jersey halfway up your torso, fingertips gliding over your soft skin. He unveils your see through, lacy panties. You notice the way his jaw clenched and the way his hands gripped the jersey tighter. He is having a tough time, too.

“As much as I love you wearing my jersey, I prefer you naked,” he grabs your chin, lips encompassing yours.

Your hands press into his chest. The feeling of his strong muscles drives you crazy. He slowly pulls the jersey off of you, watching the way you shiver and the way your nipples grow hard.

“Fuck. Look at you. My girl is so sexy.”

He presses a kiss to your neck and softly sucks on your skin until his mark is left behind. His lips move down to the tops of your breasts while he thumbs at your nipples over your lacy bra. You subconsciously arch into his touch, getting him to unclasp your bra expertly with one hand. He sends you a cocky smirk and a wink, and if you weren’t already soaked, that’d probably do the trick.

His thumbs tuck into the thin straps of your thong before sliding back out. He drags a finger from your bellybutton down to the top of your underwear. Before you can even figure out what he’s doing, Mat rips your thong in half.

“That was brand new,” you gasp.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll buy you a lot more when we get home,” he shushes you.

He fiddles with your “13” pendant on the chain around your neck before he pushes you to lean back like you originally were.

“Baby, please. Let me fuck you, please,” you beg as he starts to fist his cock.

He bites on his lip -something he does when he’s being a tease- and nudges your clit with his angry and leaking tip. You let out the sweetest moan and try to move your hips for some kind of friction. Sadly, he stills your movements and shoots you a warning glare. He suddenly lifts you up, pulling you closer and slipping his length in between your folds.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make a mess,” he instructs you, guiding your hips back and forth until you start to move on your own.

Your hips start slow, trying to get used to the pleasure of this type of teasing. The more wet you become, the easier it is to grind against his length. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders for support and you let your arousal coat your boyfriend.

Your cunt practically jerks him off without him actually being inside of you, and you make sure to rub your clit against the veins of his shaft. Your pleasure drags out along his girth, moans spilling from the seam of your lips. His eyes are glued to the way you work yourself on him, feeling himself start to pulse. Your sticky slickness is a good look on him.

The look of lust that washes over your features turns him on even more, because he’s the one who’s making you feel this way.

“I think I’m going to cum,” you whisper. The pressure on your clit and the fact that Mat’s letting you make a mess on him drives you fast to an orgasm.

“Not yet,” he says, lifting your body off his lap and placing you on his thigh.

Your body is already thrumming, and your orgasm is lingering in your stomach ready to burst at Mat’s signal. You grind against his thick thigh, the hard muscle stroking your clit just right. He flexes the muscles in his thigh and then relaxes them. The action sends a vibration through you and that electricity drives you to the edge. You're barely holding onto your release, but the sensation is quickly making you crumble. You buck your hips faster and you hear the blood rushing to your ears as you continue to throb on top of him. Your wet cunt contracts around nothing and you so badly want his dick inside of you.

“Please, Maty. I need you. I want you inside of me,” you plead and he quickly hauls you off his thigh and pushes into your pussy in a quick stroke.

Your arms lock around his neck as you bounce on his cock, body on fire with how deep he hits inside of you. Your breasts sway in front of him and he shoves his face between the supple flesh. His mouth ravages your skin until you’re left a whimpering mess.

You rut up against him, screams clawing up your throat each time his tip massages your sweet spot. Your hands grab onto the bill of his cap, pulling it back to make tufts of hair stick out and stick to his forehead.

“Yes! Yes! Oh my god. Right there, baby. Fuck yes,” you let the scream rip through your entire body as heat and tingles start to spread beyond your stomach. You bounce down harder as your pussy continues to take him deeper. His hands grip your ass to try to slow you down, but the way your arousal drips down his shaft makes him lose his sanity.

“You better not cum. I can feel your little pussy squeezing down on me,” he grips your throat and speaks into your mouth as you slant your lips over his.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, mouth opening in a loud moan during your wet kiss.

Mat abruptly pulls out of you, ignoring your whimpers as he rises to his knees. He loops his arms under your knees, picking you up so your body is completely under his control. He thrusts back into you, using his grip on your hips to slam you down on him.

“Harder,” you whine, throwing your head back. Your chest heaves and you try to match his thrusts but his grip is too tight. You’ll have delicious fingerprints on the dips of your hips later. You feel your body start to shake, your orgasm looming over you. The way Mat bulges in your stomach drags him to the brink of his orgasm.

“You’re so sexy, baby. My needy girl, you like the way my cock feels deep inside of you?” He questions cockily. He knows you're enjoying it by the way your eyes keep rolling to the back of your head and the way you quiver in his grip.

“Yes, Barzy, yes!” You shout, looking dazedly at your man. His cap sits prettily on his head, his chain bounces with his movements, and the way he glows in sweat makes you dizzy. A new flurry of fire rushes to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your pussy clenches in desire.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cry.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he grants your wish, pounding into your boneless body.

Moans spill from his mouth as your warm, slick walls flutter around his cock and your orgasm surges through your body. Your all star looks deep into your eyes as he continues to drill into you until your nonsensical mewls become mixed with his grunts.

“Cum for me, baby,” you rasp.

He pulls out, laying you back on the bed and strokes his cock. His fist moves fast. A red flush blooming on his neck and chest as he feels his balls tighten.

“Yeah, baby. Just like that. My hot ass, all star boyfriend. Just like that, baby. Cum for me,” you spur him on, circling your clit for extra motivation.

“Fuck,” he whimpers as ropes of cum squirt onto your stomach.

You scoop some of his expense with your finger and pop it into your mouth.

“I love you,” he says as you obscenely moan around your digit.

Mat pulls your finger out of your mouth and replaces it with his tongue, making you even more breathless.

“I love you, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you press a chaste kiss to his lips and chest. One hand rests on his back while your other rests on the back of his neck, fiddling with the hair hidden underneath his hat. Your legs tighten around his hips to keep him close.

“Never leave my side,” he requests, tracing the pendant of your necklace.

“Never,” you assure him, combing your fingers through his hair as he cuddles into you, head resting on your chest and a hand placed on your stomach.

There’s nothing that can be compared to this feeling.

a/n: This was written fairly quickly so sorry if it’s all over the place. Enjoy!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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bordysbae · 10 months

Note

29. “i like that nickname" with mat barzal you call him husband for a tiktok and he absolutely loves it and kisses the reader hella bc of it

“future husband”

mathew barzal x reader

ok let’s ignore the fact that the read needs two phones to make this work ok thanks 😆

🦋 BORDYSBAE’S 500 CELLY!

— ୨୧ —

you secretly set up the phone and it begins recording. you then dial the number of the restaurant in which you’re making reservations for. your boyfriend mat is sat next to you on the couch doing something on his phone not paying attention.

“hi! i’d like to make a reservation for two at 7:30,” you say to the woman on the other end of the phone.

“alright! are there any children in your party?” she asks, just incase they need to grab a high chair. you internally let out a sigh, thankful she asked cause now your plan will work perfectly.

“no, no children. just for me and my husband,” you say. immediately mat’s head perks up and he looks at you, but you pretend not to see him.

“okay thank you!” you say as you hang up the phone. you turn and look at mat, who has a shocked grin on his face, “husband?”

“what?” you play dumb.

“you said ‘for me and my husband’” his brows furrow.

“oh, i guess it’s just easier to say husband. sorry babe,” you shrug, biting back your laughter.

“no no no, don’t say sorry. i mean hey, i am your future husband anyways,” he winks as he makes his way closer to you on the couch. you let out a laugh, “so you have plans of proposing soon yeah?”

he lets out a little chuckle as he begins pressing little kisses all over your face and neck, “hmm, you never know,” he shrugs. his breath against your neck sends chills down your spine. he keeps peppering little kisses all over you, making you let out little laughs as he does so.

“future husband. i like that nickname,” mat whispers.

#bordysbae’s 500 celly #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal fluff #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

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midnightsnyx · 7 months

Text

girl at home | mat barzal | part 2

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lil bit of angst with a sprinkle of fluff and not edited im sorry lol word count: 2.1k authors note: *screams internally* thank you guys so much for the love on this story so far. I was super hesitant to post it at first but I am glad you guys like it! I'm posting this a little early but updates will be every sunday from now on. This chapter is kinda sad but happy times are on the way <3 thanks for the feedback, and if you like part 2, let me know!

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Sitting across from Mat for the first time in almost eight years, doesn’t go exactly as planned. He’s waiting for you even though you arrive fifteen minutes before the agreed time, hoping to rid yourself of the anxiety you are feeling which means he’s been here even longer. So you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans and stride over to where he’s waiting and sit on the chair across from him. He’s staring at his phone so his head jerks up when he hears you.

The first words that come out of his mouth are: “are you sure she’s mine?”

Which, okay, that’s a fair question because you did tell everybody and their grandmother who asked that Mat was not the one who knocked you up. Of course, nobody actually believed you but there were a few people from your high school that believed it. Most girls who had always had a crush on Mat, would say that you cheated on him and obviously Nora couldn’t be his child because for some reason, they never actually accepted that you and Mat were a couple.

So yeah, his question is fair and you did know he would ask.

“Yeah, we can do a paternity test if you don’t believe me,” you say quietly. It’s not something you necessarily want to do, because then you’d have to come up with some reason to tell Nora why she needs to go get her cheek swabbed or blood tested. She’s as stubborn as Mat, and you would probably have to hold her down to get whatever the doctors needed unless she agreed.

“No, I believe you.”

His words take a huge weight off your shoulders but also replace it with a new one. You know Mat, he’s the kindest soul and has the biggest heart and he’s going to want to at least properly meet Nora and might ask to be in her life. In the first few years of her life, there wouldn’t have been anything you wanted more in the world. However, you’ve grown now and so has she. Your number one priority has to be what is best for Nora, and turning her life upside by introducing her to Mat is scary. For both you and her.

And Mat? Despite what he might think, he’s nowhere near prepared to jump into being her dad.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

“Sure,” you say even though you know what he’s going to ask. It’s a question you’re nowhere near ready to answer but you have no choice now.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He doesn’t sound as angry as you were expecting, maybe thanks to his dad talking to him but there’s underlying hurt. You try to put yourself in his shoes, trying to think if there was anything in the world that would have stopped you from wanting Nora. You know for a fact that if Mat knew, he would have been in her life somehow but you’re not sure if he would have given up the NHL to do it, and that’s exactly why you didn’t tell him.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” you say softly, watching his facial expression change. He just looked confused before but now he looks sad almost. His eyes close for a moment and when he opens them, you feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach.

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I did! I do,” you argue. “If you knew about her, it would have kept you away from everything you worked hard for. Your dream was the NHL, Mat. If I told you about her, it would’ve crushed that dream. We didn’t want to hold you back.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Who’s we? You and my parents? You shouldn’t have made that choice for me, it wasn’t right.”

“This is a child we’re talking about Mat. Were you really ready at eighteen to drop everything and raise one?”

“Were you?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “But I didn’t have a jersey with my name on the back waiting for me.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment, it’s silent between the two of you with background chatter from the cafe. You’re sure that he’s just going to get up and storm out but he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, knotting his fingers together.

“I wish you’d told me,” he mumbles before looking up at you. “I would’ve stayed.”

“I know,” you whisper but you can’t meet his gaze.

. . .

You’re picking Nora up from her day camp a couple of days later when you get a message from Mat asking if he can meet up with you. There’s been no contact since the two of you last met, having left with a short goodbye to pick up Nora. He hadn’t asked to see her and you hadn’t offered so you thought maybe he would leave it but you should’ve known better.

You fire off a sure, see you in twenty, and debate on whether to bring Nora with you or drop her off with your mom. Mat might not even want to see her, but if he’s reaching out to you again it’s probably about her.

“Wanna go meet my friend?” you ask, looking back at her to gauge her reaction. She might just want to go home after all day at camp, but she perks up immediately when you ask.

“The one from the grocery store?” she squeals but narrows her eyes and gives you a suspicious look. “Hey, I thought you said he was a stranger.”

Shoot.

“Well, he was to you,” you try to explain. “I knew him when I was younger.”

“As young as me?”

“As young as you,” you tell her and she grins, nodding her head and shouting an excited yes, so you pull out of the parking-lot and start towards Mat’s parents house. You’re a little nervous to be around his family after dancing around them for so long after Nora was born. Meeting up with Liana wasn’t as hard as you were expecting, but you’re not so sure about his parents. Aside from the occasional awkward greeting, you haven’t properly spoken to them since before Nora and you’re starting to think maybe bringing her will just make things worse but before you can change your mind, you’re parking your car in the driveway.

He’s sitting outside on the porch swing when you step out, and his eyes widen in surprise when Nora climbs out of the car. He definitely wasn’t expecting you to bring her but this could be a good test. If he decides he wants to be part of her life, having all their interactions scheduled wouldn’t be a good start so you decide to just jump in the deep end.

“Hey,” you call out before grabbing Nora’s hand and making your way towards him. He’s already making his way down the pathway and meets you about half way, pulling you into a surprising hug before crouching down to Nora’s level.

“Hey Nora,” he says, smiling gently and offering her his hand to shake just like last time. “Do you remember me?”

She bobs her head once, accepting his hand but tries to hide her face in your leg. Of course now, she’s practicing Stranger Danger, instead of blurting out her full name.

“Mom made dinner, if you guys are hungry?”

Family dinner is just about the last thing you want to do but Nora perks up at the idea of food so you agree, following Mat into the all too familiar home you spent so much time in as a kid. Not much has changed, you realize as you look around the foyer. It feels a bit like coming home but you’re not sure if you were missed.

“Smells good,” you say, trying to make conversation and Mat smiles awkwardly.

“Yeah, mom is making your favorite.”

How she can remember your favorite meal is beyond you, but you’re not about to miss a peace offering and this is certainly one.

“My favorite food is spaghetti,” Nora informs him and you watch Mat nod seriously, taking in anything she says. You try not to look too deep into it because even though he knows she’s biologically his, Nora is still just a cute kid talking a mile a minute about anything and Mat has probably been trained on how to handle excited children.

When the three of you make your way to the living room, with Nora still chatting excitedly, you stop short when you see a picture frame on the wall.

It’s you. Well, it’s you and Mat at graduation. Arms wrapped around each other and Mat kissing your forehead. If you look close enough, you can see past your smile and see the sadness in your eyes. This was before you were pregnant but you were already grieving the loss of Mat. He left for hockey shortly after and your only reminder was the brown haired little girl still talking to Mat.

“Is that you, mama?” Nora asks suddenly, standing on the tips of her toes so she can get a better view. Her nose scrunches up and she looks at the photo, then Mat, and then the photo again.

“Oh,” she says and you sigh.

“Let’s go see Mat’s parents.”

Nadia and Mike are waiting in the kitchen, trying to make it seem like they weren’t listening in on the conversation. Liana is sitting at the table, reading a book casually but you know she was probably listening too.

“This is Mike, Nadia, and Liana,” you tell Nora who lights up at Nadia’s name.

“My middle name is Nadia!” She squeals and you stare at the floor, not wanting to meet any of their eyes. Someone - probably Nadia - inhales sharply and then lets out what sounds like a sob.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Liana says and you look up to see her looking at Nora with a soft smile on her face. Mike has an arm wrapped around Nadia who’s trying, and failing, to hide tears. You’re glad Liana is trying to distract Nora because you’re about two seconds away from crying and Mat must be able to tell because you feel his hand lightly touch your back. His hand lingers for a moment until you take a deep breath and blow it out steadily.

Then his hand is gone and you feel the loss right away.

“Hey, we have a swing outside in the backyard,” Mat tells Nora. “Wanna go check it out while dinner finishes cooking?”

He looks at you for permission so you nod, smiling at Nora when he takes her hand and leads her outside. Liana follows shortly after and then it’s just you, Nadia and Mike. Both their eyes are red rimmed and Nadia only hesitates for a moment before striding over and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you, my girl,” she whispers and all you can manage is a nod because you’ll probably cry now if you try to talk. The two of you just stand there for a couple minutes until Mike chuckles. You pull away, wiping your eyes to see him standing in front of the patio door so you make your way over to see what he’s looking at and almost start crying again.

Mat and Nora are playing what looks like a game of tag, Liana laughing at them while trying to film. It’s exactly the kind of thing you had sometimes allowed yourself to imagine.

“Would you look at that,” Mike says softly.

“He’s a natural,” Nadia agrees. “Always was.”

Then she turns to you with a small smile on her face. “I know the struggles of being a mom. You have to do what’s best for your kids…” she hesitates, gazing outside before looking back at you. “He wants to try, if you’ll give him the chance. We’d all love to get to know Nora.”

You would love nothing more than to have Mat’s family in Nora’s life. For her to get to know her other grandparents but you can’t help but be scared of what could happen if you let Mat into her life. She could get attached only to have him ripped away when he has to go back to New York but you can’t have Nora in Nadia, Mike, and Liana’s life and not Mat’s.

But maybe you owe it to Mat, to give him a chance at having a place in her life after not telling him about her all this time. You were doing what you thought was right - what was right - but if Mat really wants to be part of her life, maybe it’s time.

You look outside and see Nora on Mat’s shoulders with Liana chasing them, before looking back at the woman in front of you and smiling softly.

“I think Nora would love that.”

tag list: @dasiysthings

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fic

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bedsyandco · 8 months

Text

Wedding Season ☆ M. Barzal

note: wedding/off season with Mat. reader is also connor bedard's sister! Just something silly cause I miss Barzy and I'm bored! <3

matbarzal

liked by titobeauvillier, mattmartin and others.

matbarzal: Wedding season. Huge congrats to Mr. & Mrs. Bear.

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mattmartin: always the groomsman, never the groom

titobeauvillier: looking cozy👀

sydneymartin: the Prada tie. Nicely done @.ynbedard

ynbedard: thank you😙

user23: how am I supposed to live laugh love under these conditions?

user11: THAT SHOULD BE ME

user10: you're cheating on me?

barzyfan: I don't know what's funnier...the heartbroken comments or the confirmation that his girl dresses him😭

user17: are we all just ignoring the fact that she's connor bedard's sister? 🧍‍♀️

matbarzal: yes

connorbedard: yes

ynbedard

liked by connorbedard, matbarzal and others.

ynbedard: summer of love 🥰🌞

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ynbestfriend: hard hard launch

noahdobson: are we all still pretending we never knew they were together?

matbarzal: yes. Don't ruin my girl's hard launch.

noahdobson: wow. who could've guessed. congrats guys!

titobeauvillier: love you guys!

ynbedard: we love you beau🫶🏻

connorbedard: I will pay actual money to unsee this

owahlstrom: wow...so surprised

mattmartin: worst kept secret.

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x yn #mat barzal fic rec #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fanfiction

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yelenasdog · 1 year

Text

vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader)

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

��Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water.

xx, hj

1K notes · View notes

thatsdemko · 1 year

Text

neighbor - m.barzal

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol + mentions of first round 2023 playoffs

a/n: feedback is always appreciated xx

he’s your neighbor for Christs sake, but you can’t help but stare. ever since the very attractive brunette across the way started opening his blinds more, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes gravitate more towards that window.

and how could you not? half the time he’s in an unbuttoned linen shirt and sweatpants walking around his apartment, while the other half he’s dressed to the nines in a suit and tie. needless to say, he’s quite nice to stare at.

he hasn’t caught on, but every so often he pretends to stretch a couple feet away in front of the window to stare at you. he pretty much knows your morning routine, how you get up in nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants, you start your coffee pot first thing, and usually play with your cat for the next thirty minutes before you disappear to work.

he’s seen you in your outfits for the bars to your next morning hungover pajamas, and he’s even seen you when you think nobody else can. it’s okay, he won’t say a thing but he does enjoy the show every so often.

it’s two in the morning when he’s awake, playoffs just about to start his mind can’t help to wander. it’s prompted him to slip outside, enjoy the fresh air to clear his thoughts.

“you look cold.” you say watching his head snap in your direction, you’re met with none other than his eyes. the ones you made bets about how pretty they would be in person, and you were right, they were gorgeous.

“oh,” he says looking down at himself, he’s in nothing but sweatpants and a pair of slides. it didn’t take him until you said something to realize the weather outside his apartment is actually unpleasant, and rather chilly for a man who’s not wearing a shirt.

“I’m y/n, I think my window looks at yours.”

he nods moving over on the bench allowing you to sit, “I’m mat, it’s nice to finally put a name to your face.” he watches you take a seat all the way at the edge, a nervous smile placing your face as you two listen to the sirens and faint voices of the city.

“so why are you awake?” he bites first, pulling his arms across his chest to try and stay warm. it’s too early to invite you back to his place, sit inside his heated space, he’ll just have to make due to keep warm until it’s the right time.

you shrug, “lots to think about, you?” you turn to him and he nods, you watch him run his fingers through his short brown hair. you remember the day he came home with a buzz cut, your friends practically mourned the loss.

“yeah works getting a little competitive I’d say.” he sighs, eyes looking upward at the stars, only a few shine bright in the cities skies. it makes him miss home, the amount of stars he’d see in the sky are much brighter and clearer than the clouded ones of New York.

“is that why you dress up sometimes? sorry, I don’t mean to sound weird I just see you—“

his laugh cuts you off, of all those times you’ve seen him laugh you never expected it to sound like it does against your ears. it brings a smile to your face. “kind of, although I’m supposed to dress clean for work, bosses demand.”

“so that’s why you got a buzz cut?” you ask moving a little closer to him, you can see the goosebumps that decorate his arms.

“that was my own doing.”

“a poor decision if I must say so.” you snap back, watching him roll his eyes in response. he mutters a couple words you can’t hear but you don’t press to figure them out.

“I must say, you’re judging me a lot for someone who wears the same clothes three days in a row.” he sends you a playful wink and you’re thankful for the night lights that don’t cast over your red cheeks of embarrassment.

“I think I’m going to start closing my blinds from you.”

—

he moves in front of his window, suit jack and button up shirt holding two different ties in each hand. holding them up, you move to the window from the kitchen to point at the one you like the most. you’re liking this new found friendship, ever since that late night on the bench, things have been awfully fun and exciting.

you’d go to your window, hold up whatever decision you had and he’d answer with his opinion. you’d see each other on the streets more often than you expected, and sometimes he’d even walk you to your office for work. he was becoming a friend rather than just some neighbor.

“then my friends and I were thinking of going to the bars, you’re more than welcome to come! I’m sure they’d love to meet you.” you nudge his shoulder with your elbow listening to him hiss at the burnt coffee that split over his hand.

“I’d love to but I actually have a date tonight.” he proudly smiles, it’s the first you’d talk about relationships. you always assumed he was single. having not seen a single woman over in his place, unless it was his mother, so it makes since the bachelor was getting lonely in his nice pad.

you’re just not sure why you feel your throat closeup and the saliva in your mouth make it impossible for you to start a sentence.

“but if I change my mind you’ll text me the address?” he stops in front of your office, and all you can do is nod before bidding him a quiet goodbye before rushing up the stairs to the big doors of your building.

when you finally get up there, you heave out a long breath finally feeling your throat clear and salvia dry your mouth. boy, did you have a story to tell your girlfriends tonight.

they were rooting for you two, saying it’s a perfect trope of boy meets girl and boy next door. and yeah maybe you were also rooting for it happen too, because as time went on you developed feelings for him that were more than just a crush. you began to enjoy his company more and more, you just wish maybe he enjoyed it the same amount.

—

when he enters the bar of the location you’ve sent him, it’s not hard to find you. your smile brightens up any room, and can easily be spotted a mile away. after a shitty date, seeing you was all he wanted.

he moves throughout the sweaty bodies, couple of them offer pats to his shoulders congratulating him on the playoffs achievements, but none of those matter. he’s more focused on getting closer to you, and when he does a man that had been blocked by other bodies comes into focus.

he’s got his hand on your hip, as he yells into your ear, whatever it was made you laugh, but nothing like how mat made you laugh. he had the ability to get your full unhinged reaction, your body leaning forward and a snort or two. he thinks it’s cute.

your attention shifts when you recognize that familiar body that’s standing a couple feet away, “mat, you came!” you exclaim, motioning for him to come closer and he does.

“no way you know mat barzal.” the guy you’re talking to is stunned as he extends a hand, mat gladly takes it assuming he’s fan, “I fucking hope the canes destroy you guys.”

mat quick to withdraws his hand from the other guys grip, you give the two a confused look having no clue what they are talking about, “mat barzal, islanders player? please tell me you watch sports.” he laughs. you shake your head slowly looking up at your neighbor, who’s nervously playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“hey man congratulations though!” the guy you’re talking to excuses himself, and you’re pretty sure he won’t be coming back, but that’s fine. mat’s here and from what you remember, it means his date didn’t go as planned.

“so you’re alone, it didn’t go well?” you turn to him and he shrugs a slight nod. he watches you play with the tiny straws in your drink trying to slurp the rest of the liquid.

“how many of those you had?” he chuckles watching you nearly chug half the drink before he jokingly pulls it away from your lips, “easy now.”

“I don’t know, they’ve all been free.”

he laughs watching you sway side to side from the music, but the alcohol that’s following through your body, “why don’t I buy you a glass of water and we can go home?” he offers, you happily nod heading to say goodbye to your friends.

once you’re out the doors of the bar, he drapes his coat around your shoulders and he offers for you to come inside his place. you’re eager to see the rest whether you’ll remember it or not, but you nod following him inside saying hello to his doorman.

when you enter his place most of it isn’t what you expected it to be. it’s minimal decorations, only a few decorative pieces of art work hang on the walls, and a hockey stick hangs above his dinning room table.

“Crosby’s stick. he gave it to me after my first game against him. I nearly cried.” he laughs watching you move across his floors taking in his space, you stop at the infamous window and look inside your apartment.

you can se the hallway that leads to your bedroom, the cat tree where you cat sleeps in, and the living room where you spend most of your time entertaining your boring nights.

“I didn’t realize how much you see of me.” you turn to him, he’s seated on his cream colored couch shaking his head.

“I look over yeah, but I know when to look away.”

“like when?” you dangerously ask, moving to sit beside him on his couch, he positions himself to look at you.

“okay like when you get out of the shower and you have on no towel, I know to look away. I’m not a pervert.” he scoffs having remembered the time his mother was over and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of you.

you gasp, hand covering your mouth, “do not tell me you’ve seen me in nothing but my underwear and bra?!”

he gives you look of confirmation without even saying the words, you hide your face into one of his pillows hearing that beautiful laugh ring your ears, “oh come on! it’s okay, I’m sure you’ve seen me in my underwear before.”

you pull your face away from the pillow with rosy red cheeks, “yeah but that’s different! you walk around in your shorts and nothing on all the time!”

he smirks, “oh so you do watch me?” watching you shove your face into the pillow of embarrassment once more.

“it’s okay, I like knowing it’s you watching me rather than some other girl. I was beginning to think you didn’t notice.”

you pull your face away from the pillow tossing it aside, “what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, and it’s his faces turn to light up red.

“isn’t it obvious?”

you shake your head, “it’s as obvious as you playing a sport!”

he laughs moving a little closer to you on the couch, “I wouldn’t be asking someone which tie to wear if I didn’t like them a little more than a friend.” he places a hand against your kneecap watching you lean back against his couch.

“you like me more than just a neighbor?”

“I guess it’s not as obvious as I thought it would be.”

you shake your head, “you’re horrible at making things obvious, but it’s okay we can work on it.”

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islesnucks · 3 months

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Voicemail - Mathew Barzal x Reader - TEASER

Hey! This is so random after like a year of not posting any fics but here's a small preview of one of the Barzy fics I've been working on. I'll probably post it next week.

Summary: what started as an accidentall voicemial to your ex boyfriend ended up becoming routine and maybe even more

Add yoruself to the taglist if you wanna be notified when i post the fic! PS: ill also use my old taglist so if you were in it but changed your url and wanna be notified please add yourself again and also let me know which is your old url so i can delete it, thanks!

“Fuck it. I can't do this.” You pulled your phone away from your ear and touched the red dot.

A second later, realization struck like lightning – you had ended the call before deleting the voicemail. It had been sent.

"Oh no, no, no!" you exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. There was no turning back. Mat would undoubtedly hear you stumbling over your words. Why couldn't you have just left well enough alone? The last thing he needed was you barging back into his life with a pathetic voicemail about something he likely moved on from. ‘He probably already despises me after how everything unfolded, and now this’ you thought.

"Mat." you picked up.

"Hey. You called me?"

POSTED HERE!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagines #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal one shot #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagines #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal one shot #mat barzal fic #mathew barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #nhl imagine #isles imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic

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abilouwrites · 6 months

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LOVE STORY

Taylor swift szn y’all

Mat Barzal being in love w his neighbor

The day she moved in Mat was smitten. Filled with Californian sun and those long legs and dusty light brown hair. She’s got a little pep in her step but a shuffle as she slides into her flip-flops and grabs a box.

She’s followed by an older man and a younger boy. The girl still holds his attention; she seems a little disoriented. Not in a drunk way, but in the way that makes her wonder if this is actually her new life.

“Matty” He hears his mother shout out, “be a nice strong boy and help our new neighbors”

Although he wants to meet her; it’s not under these circumstances. That’s an awkward meet cute. And not one that he wants with her.

“Mom— I don’t know.. they seem to handle it” he groans out, “Shit woman ok” he sighs hearing her stop up the stairs

“Oh mat you’re such a baby. Go on. Be a good neighbor. I’m bakin them some muffins” She tsks smacking his back as he jogs down the steps.

“Fine fine I’ll give them a hand” the brunette grumbles out.

He shuffles a little, tucking his hands into his pockets. He tucks his shoulder in and looks a little bashful through his shaggy brown hair.

The girl looks over her shoulder at him, her hair swishes back as she looks at him. All wide eyes and new to this street.

“Hey, I’m uh. Mat.. Barzal I live next door” He introduces reaching his hand out for her to shake. She shakes his hand and nods at him. Eyeing him up and down

“You’re not wearing a Shirt” She points out, before she meets his eyes again, “I’m y/n” she smiles a little. Lip turned up a little and he can see her teeth. But just a sliver.

“Yeah.. I my mom. She made me come out an help. And I haven’t done laundry yet so” he shrugs a little and smiles nervously, “how can I help?”

“Uh. Just some boxes. They’re all labeled with like kitchen and bathroom n stuff” y/n shrugs as she reaches for a box with her name, “I’m just trying to get my room set up”

“Oh, ok. Yeah let me help you” he offers taking another box with her name on it. She nods and leads him inside.

“Are those your parents?” He asks; attempting to make small talk as she walks upstairs.

“Just my dad. She’s my stepmom.” The blonde rolls her eyes a little, “this is my room” she kicks the door open a little and he uses his shoulder to open it the rest.

“Oh. Ok. Uh is that all the boxes?”

“Yeah. Just for my room. Thanks” she mumbles a little taking a knife and ripping through the tape.

“I could help you get set up..” he offers

“Oh. Yeah actually that would be nice”

The two of them unbox and rebuild plenty of her furniture. She makes idle conversation and he replies, he makes conversation and she responds.

Mat watches as she ties her hair back, “so.. you play any sports?” She asks; he nervously looks down and nods, “what?”

“Yeah. I play hockey. With my dad” he purses his lips nervous from the Californians response

“Cool. Does this Highschool have a team or is it club?” She asks

“Both. What about you?” He inquires. Shaking his head a little

“Soccer. So does VHS have a soccer team? Is it good?” She asks leaning foreword a little

“Yeah. They’re good.” He shrugs, “will you try out this fall?”

“Yeah. I’ll try hopefully. I don’t know how willing they’ll be for a junior just barging in for varsity”

“Were you on varsity at your last school?”

“Yeah, I was”

“As a sophomore?”

“Yeah”

When school starts the two had grown closer, her hair went back to its soft brown color. And that natural curl was coming back.

Mat drives her to school and nervously looks at her, “I think I’m gonna try out for captain this year. Because I’m a senior” he confesses. Leaning back into the car seat.

“I think you would be a good captain” she tells him, leaning over a bit as the two sit in the parking lot.

“I hope. Would you come to any games?”

“Hell I’d wear your jersey” she teases. Her face smooshed against the car seat, “you’d be a good captain Matty”

“I hate when you call me that” he sighs softly, inching just a bit closer

“Why?” She inquires responding to his closeness

“It just..” he sighs and looks down, “my mom calls me that. And so does this girl”

“Which girl”

He leans a little closer to the glossy lipped teen, he looks at her lips then up at her eyes, “you”

“Why is it a bad thing?”

“It’s bad.. because when ever you say it. It makes me want to kiss you” he faintly whispers.

“So kiss me”

His hand reaches for her chin and tilts her head up bringing her in for a kiss.

She groans a little into it as his hand wraps around her neck and her arms bring him closer.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #louiseabilenewrites #mat barzal my beloved #mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal edit #mat barzal fic #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mat barzal social media au

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barzysunflower · 7 months

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enchanted to meet you — mat barzal

this was requested a long time ago and I finally got around the writing it <3 based on ‘enchanted’ by taylor swift

word count: 1.6k

"there I was again tonight. forcing laughter, faking smiles; same old tired, lonely place vanished when I saw your face."

Another weekend, another fundraiser. Even since moving out of your parents place they still somehow managed to drag you to their functions that they insisted on attending. Like you didn't have better things to do. All night you were forced to make small talk, fake smiles, and laugh at incredibly insensitive jokes. Though the room was filled with people, you always felt lonely.

That was until you saw the handsome stranger across the room. He didn't notice you at first, but as you made the rounds talking to people and getting closer to him, you caught his attention. The brunette looked devilishly attractive in the black suit he was wearing and his crooked smile only brought more attention to him. His longish hair looked soft, enough to wonder what it would feel like to run your hand through it.

When your parents moved past the group the stranger belonged to, it only confirmed your theory that he was new. You had been to enough of these events that you could recognized people, if only by their looks, but if your parents didn't know them, that really meant these were new people. And you were immediately attacked. The group he belonged to looked on average much younger than the rest of the people here and you really could use more people your age at these things.

As you made smalltalk, your gaze kept finding his. You looked around to see if there was a girl with him, but you couldn't see one, so you smiled when he winked at you. You were nowhere near confident enough to go up to talk to him, especially in front of your family, no matter how desperate you were to get to know him and get away from these boring people.

So you made your way to the only good thing that came out of these charity events. The open bar.

"you're eyes whisper have we met. across the room your silhouette starts to make its way to me. the playful conversation starts. counter all your quick remarks."

"Uf. Not a fan this shindig, eh?" You swallowed the tequila and slammed the shot glass back on the countertop. You directed your attention to the guy asking you that question and were surprised to find it was the handsome stranger. The tequila (or more likely him because he was much prettier up close) made you cough, unladylike, a few times as the air got stuck in your throat. "You ok?"

"Yeah, sorry." You tried to laugh it off and thankfully he did too.

"Can I buy you an actual drink now?" One of his eyebrows lifted, the same time one corner of his lips did.

"Uhm. This is an open bar," you responded with a chuckle, but internally screamed at why on earth this had to be an open bar. Guys rarely came up to you to ask you to buy you a drink. And now one time they did, it was an open bar?

"Oh, right." It was his turn to blush, but his smile didn't fade. He leaned in and a wave of his cologne swept over you. "Can I order you a drink then?"

You nodded, intoxicated by his scent, and somehow you were able to tell him your order. "Long Island iced tea."

He chuckled for a second then went to grab the bartenders attention. "One Long Island for the lady and a rum and coke for me, please." He turned back to you when the bartender confirmed the order. “So, what are you doing here if don’t really want to be here?”

“My parents,” you answered with a sigh. “They’re in this whole scene and they happen a lot and for some reason they drag me to every single one, even though they’re always the same. ‘But socializing is so important’,” you imitated your mother. “It’s always the same people and same conversations though.”

“That’s rough, I’m sorry. I’m not really here by choice either.”

“Huh, who made you go? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“My organization. They always pick a charity event for us to attend before the season starts. Oh, I play hockey,” he answered your confused look, to which you then nodded.

“Ice hockey? Professional?” He nodded. Impressive.

“That’s fun. What team?”

“Islanders.” You really had no clue about hockey, not more than what you had picked up at games your brother took you to, but one thing you did know was the Islanders/Rangers rivalry.

“That’s not the blue and red team, right?” He brought his hand to his heart, as if he’d just been shot. You laughed and shrugged innocently. “Ah, the other New York team.”

He acted more hurt, but still had that beautiful smile on his face the entire time. “A rangers ran, eh? The prettiest girl here, who I thought could make this night more bearable had to be a rangers fan.” He shook his head in disappointment, while still obviously being sarcastic. The ‘pretty’ comment definitely made your heartbeat increase, but you ignored it.

“I’m just joking. I really don’t know that much about hockey. My brother is a rangers fan though, so I’ve been to a few games.” He nodded, understanding. The bartender finally placed your drinks in front of you and you happily picked it up.

“So I still have a shot?,” he asked, leading you away from the bar.

“I don’t know. I heard hockey players are kind of douchy.” He laughed out loud again and you already knew you would never be able to hear enough of it.

“May I convince you otherwise?”

“Go ahead, my night can only get better.” You both smiled.

“I’m Mat, by the way.”

“(Y/n).”

“This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew. I was enchanted to meet you.”

And by the end of the night he had definitely proved you wrong. He was far from douchy and much sweeter than you had imagined. You had talked all night, with little interruptions, about anything and everything. He told you a bit more about his hockey story, which you found so fascinating since he knew from a young age what he wanted to be and never gave up until he made it. But mostly he showed a lot of interest in you. It was crazy how much you could get to know someone in such a short time.

Unfortunately, when he took a short bathroom break, your mother came to get you to go home. “I’m in the middle of something,” you tried to argue to stay just a few minutes longer so you could get Mat’s info.

“I don’t care, (y/n). I have a headache. Let’s go.” You saw your father standing a few feet behind her, signaling you to move it. So with one last glance toward to empty hallway where the bathrooms were, you did.

Disappointed, you followed your parents out the doors and into the car that would bring you back home. “Don’t think I didn’t see you talking to that guy,” your brother whispered, knowing that if he brought it up in front of your parents they’d make a big deal. “That’s Mat Barzal. How on earth did you get his attention? And also, please don’t date him, he’s an Islander.”

You blushed and smiled at the mention of his name, but it soon turned sour when you remembered you left without at least saying goodbye. You didn’t want him to think that you ditched him. And you had no way of contacting now.

At home, you spent a bit more time than probably appropriate googling him and stalking his instagram. You thought about dming him, but you figured that he must get hundreds of dms every day and that he wouldn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t even care or would even recognize your handle or profile picture. So with deep regret, you didn’t, and went to sleep with his smile on your mind and his laugh echoing in your ears.

“This is me praying that. This was the very first page. Not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again.”

Days then weeks went by without seeing or hearing from Mat. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t think about him. A lot reminded you of him and you were still amazed at that fact since you had only spent a few hours with him. But you had started watching some of his hockey games and seeing him in his uniform definitely made it harder to forget him.

You had almost already given up on ever seeing him again until one day, a little over two weeks after meeting him, when you went to your parents house for dinner. You sat through the entire dinner, almost done with desert when your mother spoke up. “Oh, honey, I almost forgot to tell you. Some guy from the other night has been asking around for you. I guess you didn’t give him your number or something.”

Your gaze snapped up to meet hers. There was only one guy you talked to who didn’t have a way to contact you. “Who?”

“Mat something. You know him?” Your smile grew twice its normal size and you could hear your brother laugh from across the table.

“Yes, I know him.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #nhl imagine #nhl fluff #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fics #new york islanders

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drewsbuzzcut · 3 months

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Standing On The Sun And I Don’t Feel A Thing

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: hospitals, miscarriages, mentions pain, nausea, and blood, mentions abortion, mentions panic attacks, grief, anger, some angst, and mat being kind of mean, also mentions trying for a baby and I think that’s all (pls let me know if I missed any)

this takes place september 2030

“Where are the kids?” You ask, voice hoarse and eyes puffy.

“Shhh shhh. The kids are with Bev. Baby, what happened? I got a call from the hospital and I went straight to drop the kids off, thank god Beverly was home,” Mat takes a seat next to the side of the hospital bed. He brings your hand into his and you can tell he’s been crying.

“I-“ you start but stop as you start coughing.

“You need some water,” he presses the call button that alerts the nurse.

After a few sips of water, you close your eyes to try to gather your thoughts about all that you could remember.

“This morning, after I got to the photo shoot, I started feeling nauseous and my lower back was in a lot of pain. I just thought I was about to start my period. I don’t really remember anything after that. I think I remember seeing blood and then everyone started freaking out. Eventually everything went black,” you recall the foggy events that led you here.

“Do you know what happened? Did the doctor come to talk to you?” He asks but tries to hide his frantic state.

“I just woke up. I’m still in pain. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared, Maty,” you grip his hand really tight, bringing his palm up to your cheek for warmth and comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I love you. I’m here and you’re going to be okay,” he whispers against your forehead, willing his tears to go away.

A knock sounds on the door and Mat tells them that they can come in. The look on the doctor’s face makes you go pale.

“Is everything okay? Am I okay?” You ask warily.

“It’s nothing too serious, but I regret to inform you that you’re miscarrying at the moment,” the words fade out, your head fuzzy and heart pounding.

“I’m sorry what?” Mat says in shock.

You try to take deep breaths but everything feels shallow.

“Mrs. Barzal, you’re going through a miscarriage which is why you are experiencing severe pain and were bleeding earlier. We do, however, want to perform an ultrasound to confirm,” the doctor says in an eerie tone.

Tears spring to your eyes and you shake your head. This cannot be happening. The nausea returns and twists at your abdomen.

“That’s not possible,” you whisper.

“It’s what your blood test is telling us. We’re going to take you to a different room for your ultrasound,” the doctor says along with some other information before they leave the room.

“Oh my god,” you cover your face with your hands and throw your head back.

“I love you,” Mat kisses your forehead.

“This can’t be happening,” is the only thing you say.

An hour later it’s confirmed that your body is going through a miscarriage, and you feel like everything beneath your feet has been taken from you. You feel so empty and you didn’t even know you were pregnant.

You close your eyes and force yourself to fall asleep, but even then your mind still reels at the events of the day. Not even Mat’s hesitant touch can help you feel better.

“Y/n, wake up,” you hear Mat whisper softly in your ear a couple hours later.

You blink your eyes, the blinding light of the room making your head hurt.

“The doctor said that you will be discharged in about an hour,” he informs you, but you honestly just hear static.

Everything from that point on is a blur of unshed tears and horrific thoughts. The shrill sound of your babies wanting to be in your arms when you get home momentarily distracts you, but that emptiness lingers. You try to distract yourself with being a mom and setting up dates with your close friends. You move throughout the house, cleaning every surface over and over again to keep you sane. You go through about 4 wooden pencils as you write and write until you’re snapping each pencil in half with your strong grip. You take extra long showers to wash away each trace of grief that may be left on your body.

After a week of feeling like a robot, you start to feel every emotion you’ve been trying to push down come back up. It doesn’t help that Mat pulled himself away from you. You don’t remember the last time you had a full conversation that didn’t revolve around your kids or random topics that warranted a 30 second talk. You cancel all plans and lock yourself in the guest bedroom.

The empty feeling spreads from your stomach all over your entire body. How could you not know you were pregnant? Why wasn’t your body strong enough to keep them alive? Why did you feel so alone despite Mat being a father and a mother all while he’s trying to help you?

You sob your eyes out and twist in agony, because each time you feel like you might be okay, you’re reminded that your body failed you. No one prepares you for what it feels like to lose something you didn’t even know you could lose. You hate yourself for feeling this way, because it’s selfish when you already have kids and a husband. A family that’s already felt complete, but now it just feels broken.

It takes several phone calls to your therapist before you feel like you can function without your heart aching every second. You realized that you need your babies’ hugs and kisses. You needed to feel some kind of love.

You attempt to put back all of your broken pieces by playing with your children or napping with them. Simply just being around them puts a smile on your face. You start to feel yourself come around more. You start hanging out with friends again and laughing and feeling anything but sadness. You try to be more positive in situations you’d automatically become upset with.

The only thing that’s keeping you down is Mat. He’s become really good at being just a roommate. He’ll work with you when it comes to the kids, but other than that the space between you both feels like miles rather than inches. You’ve let him keep to himself, because you’re not sure how he’s coping with what happened- especially because you’ve locked yourself away for the past week or so.

Eventually you get tired of his silence and pressure him into talking to you.

“What’s going on?” You ask one night when he’s just getting out of the shower.

“What are you talking about?”

You stay silent for a minute and just watch him. His face conveys nonchalance, but his body is rigid.

“You know what I’m talking about, babe. Why have you been so distant with me? Is it because I’ve been sad? I’m better now and even if I wasn’t, you can still talk to me,” you say, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

His body stiffens and he slowly moves away from your touch.

That really hurts.

“It’s not about that, Y/n. Believe it or not, I’m not feeling this way because you were or are sad,” he blurts out.

He continues to move around the room, getting dressed and putting on lotion.

“Okay. So what’s wrong? Why are you being pissy with me?”

“Like you don’t know,” he says.

“Obviously I don’t. Why do you think I’m asking?” He’s really starting to make you mad.

“How could you not tell me?” He finally asks.

“Not tell you what? I’m so confused right now,” you tug on your hair and shut your eyes, trying to come up with the missing details.

“How could you not tell me that you were pregnant? I had to find out by seeing you in the hospital because you were having a miscarriage,” he just about shouts and it makes you flinch.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I was just as in the dark as you were. I would’ve told you if I was pregnant. I can’t believe you’d think that I’d keep something like that from you,” you explain with your voice and head low.

“Shit. I- I’m sorry. I just assumed that you knew and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I love you,” he gathers you in his arms and just holds you.

“I’m sorry I pushed everyone away. I just needed some time to think about things and to be sad,” you say through tears.

“It’s okay. I love you,” he kisses your temple.

“I love you.”

Later that night you’re both in bed, cuddling and basking in the comfortable silence.

“Mat?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think you should get snipped,” you voice your most recent thought.

“What?” He questions because he’s not sure if he’s hearing things.

“I really think you should get a vasectomy,” you reiterate.

“Wait… why?”

You adjust in his grip so you can fully face him. Your hand goes to rest on his cheek and you thumb at his skin.

“I think I’m done with having babies. We have 3 and I think that’s enough,” you say.

“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean why do I have to be the one to get the procedure done?”

“Well why not?” You ask back.

“I can’t get that because I have to be sharp for hockey. I can’t spend weeks just lazing around during a recovery period, you know that. You should get your tubes tied,” he explains and you let out a scoff.

You move away from him and get off the bed in favor of pacing around the room.

“I’ve held each of our babies inside of me for 9 months. I breastfed all of them. I just had a miscarriage for a baby I didn’t even know existed. My body is constantly changing. That’s not always an ideal situation for my career, especially because my body is an important aspect of my job. Hell, I’m practically art! So, no, I’m not going to be the one to get my tubes tied,” you rant, eyes squinted and a frown wrinkling your forehead.

“I thought that’s why you started taking classes at Pratt, so modeling wouldn’t be the only thing you have going for you?” He replies, subtly putting words in your mouth.

Your every feature turns down in a sad and disappointed pout. You honestly didn’t see this conversation going in this direction. The whiplash is unreal.

“That’s not what I was aiming for when I decided to take some classes. You’re being a real ass right now,” you bite.

“I’m being an ass? What about you? You just assumed that I don’t want any more kids. You know, I want you to at least want one of them, because if you haven’t noticed you really didn’t want either of them,” he spits out, face red as a tomato.

That makes you cry. That assumption that you never wanted your kids makes you die on the inside.

“At first, you wanted to get an abortion with Nolan,” he says when you stay silent.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock up an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

“You didn’t really want Angel. I remember you saying that you didn’t want any more kids after Nolan,” he adds.

You glare at him in return.

“Lastly, you said you didn’t really like the timing of Sloane and I can’t blame you, because you went and broke up with me and then hid it from me. No wonder I thought you hid this one, too,” Mat rips into you, voice laced with venom.

“You listen to me, Mathew Barzal, if I really didn’t want to have our kids, I wouldn’t have had them. Believe me when I say that. Of course I wanted our kids. Was I scared out of my mind each pregnancy? Yes! Would I take them back? Hell no. I love our babies, so for you to say that really sucks,” you respond, wiping away your tears.

He just shakes his head in return.

“I’m scared of pregnancy. I just lost a baby and you expect me to want to try for another one? I don’t know if I can do that for you, for us,” you correct your last couple of words before he can turn them into something else.

He watches you, staying silent as you fall apart at his feet.

“Is this going to be the end of us?” You ask.

“Why is it always a breakup with you? Is that what you really want? Deep down, do you really not want to be with me?” He accuses.

“No! I just feel like you don’t love me, so I’m not going to beg you to stay if that’s not what you want. I can’t even give you a baby, so there’s that,” you admit.

“I lost the baby, too,” Mat points out.

“I know that, Mathew. I know, but you don’t understand what it’s like as a mother to go through a loss like that. My body should be capable of growing a life. Then you go and say that I didn’t even want my kids. You don’t know what it feels like to feel so utterly empty and alone. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know that they existed, because as a mother, I should’ve known,” you whisper as your voice starts to become strained.

You feel your chest start to cave in on you and the lack of support makes your knees buckle. You go straight to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest for some kind of stability. You’ve never seen Mat so upset. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Part of you is mad at him for the way he’s talking to you, but another part of you understands. This whole miscarriage has turned your world upside down. You’d be naive to think that it wouldn’t affect him too.

“Baby, don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault. I love you, always. I promise it’s going to be okay,” he wraps you in his arms and squeezes you to his chest. He beats himself up for the way his words caused you to crumble. Seeing you break after already being broken down snaps him out of his anger. His word vomit just spewed out, but maybe it was a good thing because everything was out on the table.

You don’t blame him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

He doesn’t know it, but the beat of his heart does wonders to calm you down before you can have a panic attack.

“Do you hate me?” You lock your hands behind his neck, desperate to have him pressed to you in any way possible.

“Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like I did. I swear I would never hate you,” he rubs your back.

“You said I didn’t want our babies,” you get out through the remnants of your cries.

“Do you really feel that way? Be honest,” you speak again.

“Part of me used to feel that way, but every time I see you with our babies, I see how much you love them. You’re the best mama bear to our little loves. I wouldn’t have had kids with you, if I felt certain that you didn’t want them. I was just being an asshole,” he whispers into your temple.

You sniffle at his response, feeling another bout of tears ready to fall because you never knew he felt that way.

“Are you sad about the miscarriage?” You need his feelings to be transparent.

“Yeah. A lot more than I thought I would be. I’m also angry, because you shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve known you were pregnant, maybe things would be different,” he answers honestly.

“It’s not your fault either. This is just a really sucky thing,” you try to comfort him, but you can see the tears in his eyes and the way his bottom lip wobbles.

“I’m sorry for being mean. I can’t take it back, but just know that I love you so much,” he finally cries.

You pull him closer, hand caressing his neck and back and you kiss his cheeks.

“We’ll work through it. We always do. Do you really want another baby?” You look into his eyes.

“I do. One more baby barzal, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I made you feel bad about an insecurity I have,” he admits, thumb wiping away your tears. His forehead leans against yours and for the first time in a couple of weeks, you feel whole.

“Insecurity?” It’s the first you’re ever hearing about it and it shocks you to your core. For as long as you’ve known Mat he’s always been the secure and stable one.

“I sometimes thought you were just having kids to please me and not because you were ready to have them. I guess I was feeling insecure about our age gap. I finally got somewhat of an understanding of what you used to feel like,” he explains and you feel guilty for never realizing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I could’ve soothed your worries a long time ago. Like I said, I had our babies because I wanted to.”

“I thought I could get away with it, but I guess it just bubbled up until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I promise to come to you whenever I get an insecurity, or just any little problem really. You’re my wife, I need you all the time,” he pulls you in for a kiss. You try to kiss every single one of his worries away.

“I would like to purposely try to make a baby, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Just have some patience with me,” you say into his mouth.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to pressure you into having another baby if that’s not something you want to do.”

“Mat, baby, you’re not pressuring me into anything. I’ve been having some baby fever lately. Miss Sloane is getting older, so it’d be nice to have another baby,” you assure him.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready,” he says, pulling you into a kiss.

“I love you. We’re going to get through this,” you promise him. And you will,, no doubt about it.

Being riddled with grief and guilt- that can only come from the way you both acted towards each other- will make you both stronger in the end. Stronger as individuals, as a couple, and as parents. You’re just glad you’re going through it all with your husband by your side. It’s Mathew or no one, and it’s safe to say that he feels the same way.

a/n: Looks like mat and model!reader have some therapy and lots of talking to do before they fix everything. As always, hope y’all enjoy!

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bordysbae · 1 year

Note

ok hear me out… 32. "do this tiktok with me" like imagine trying to do the booktok door leaning one with Mat Barzal.

“booktok”

mathew barzal x reader

warning: slight mentions of sex?

“mat come do this tiktok with me!” you exclaim, immediately hopping off of the bed and running into the living room where your boyfriend is. “oh god, absolutely not,” he chuckles.

“please? it’s not anything like a dance, you don’t have to worry about your bad dance skills,” you shrug, making mat jokingly roll his eyes.

“fine i’ll do it, what do i have to do?” he asks as he rises off of the couch.

“you just have to lean over me in the doorway,” you nervously chuckle, afraid he’ll change his mind. “i already lean over you though? you’re short,” he shrugs, making you playfully hit his chest as you set up the phone in a doorway.

“not everyone is six-foot!”

“six-foot one actually. now what do i do? i just lean over you?”

“yeah basically! you also have to put your hand on the top of the doorway too,” you say, trying to show him what you mean but ultimately failing due to the height difference. after showing him examples on your phone, he tells you he’s ready. as you’re leaning against the door waiting for him to do the thing, you burst out laughing when he does, making him laugh too.

“you look so serious!” you say in between laughs. “i don’t want to mess it up! redo it, we’re doing this again,” he assures. you guys attempt to do it, but always end up laughing at the end.

“why can’t we be serious for one minute?” mat laughs, putting your phone back where it was, starting the tiktok again. “you’re asking me?” you laugh. after many attempts, you guys get a good take. you end up liking the ones where you guys are laughing better, so you decide to just post one of those. once you’ve posted the video, you and mat cuddle up on the couch to watch whatever hockey game is in tonight.

“you know that tiktok we did is from booktok, it’s a big thing to write in romance books that the guy like leans over the doorway to kiss the girl,” you inform mat.

“is it written in any of those sex books you read?” mat teases, referring to your collection of sexy-romance books. “shut up!” you blush out of embarrassment, hiding your face in the blanket.

“oh i’m just teasing, you know i’m down to do anything, don’t be ashamed!” mat chuckles, poking your side. “mathew barzal!” you blush even more, both flustered and embarrassed.

#mathew barzal fluff #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mat barzal #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

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midnightsnyx · 7 months

Text

girl at home | mat barzal | part 3

warnings: not edited, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, some cute fluff and as usual, as much angst as i can fit into a chapter <3 word count: 2.2k authors note: OK well not gonna lie, i cried writing the ending. i keep saying happy things are on the way and they are we're just slow getting there, ok? anyway i hope you all like this chapter & if you wanna, feed my writing soul and give me some feedback <3 i do have a tag list if you'd like to be tagged, there is a form below or you can leave a comment or dm me & i can tag you in the next part. thanks for all the love on this little story <3

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Co-parenting with Mat is interesting to say the least. Although, you’re not sure if you can even classify it as co-parenting because Nora still has no idea who Mat really is. She just knows that he now tags along with the two of you most places you go and she’s thrilled. Her questions for him are endless, asking about anything from hockey to what living in New York is like. She’s always been inquisitive, but this is a whole new level, even for her.

You have mixed feelings about this because while you are happy that they’re getting along, you’re worried what will happen at the end of the summer when Mat has to return to New York. There’s no way you and Nora can follow him, and co-parenting between Vancouver and New York? Impossible.

You’re sitting with Mat, both of you watching Nora play with some other kids on the playground. He’s been quiet but you can tell there’s something on his mind. Even though it’s been eight years, you still know Mat like the back of your hand and you know when he’s trying to decide whether or not to bring something up. You’re curious though, so you bump your knee against his and raise an eyebrow when he turns to you.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask and he smiles sheepishly.

“I was wondering if I could see some baby pictures,” he says quietly, and then adds, “of Nora,” as if he needs to specify. You were wondering when he was going to ask because his parents and Liana have already asked to see and asked for copies of all the pictures. Mat has been a little more reserved about most of it though, not asking questions about your pregnancy or for pictures of Nora as everyone else had.

“Yeah, of course,” you tell him, pulling your phone out and adding him to the shared album that his family is already in.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and you watch him swipe through pictures, pausing at certain ones although you can’t see which. You’re a little nervous because there are ultrasound photos and pictures of you throughout your pregnancy. You don’t know how he’ll react, because he still hasn’t really expanded on his feelings about you not telling him about her other than what he said at the coffee shop. He’s spoken to his parents, you know that much from Liana, but he hasn’t said anything more to you.

“She looks like you,” he eventually says, “got your nose.”

“She has your eyes,” you counter and he smiles.

“Yeah,” he whispers and before he can say anything else, Nora plops down on the bench next to him and peers at his phone.

“Hey! That’s me!” she exclaims, pointing to the picture of her from Halloween last year.

“Really?” you pretend to be surprised, smiling when she rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Yes, mama. See? You said my eyes look like my dads.”

Mat tenses next to you. You’re sure he’s going to say something but instead he just smiles at Nora.

“They’re pretty nice eyes,” he agrees, ruffling her hair before she ducks out of his reach with a giggle.

“Mat, come push me on the swing!” she begs and he lets her pull him towards the swings without hesitation. You can’t help but grin at the pleased smile on Nora’s face and the way Mat does exactly what she wants without complaint. You know he would’ve definitely been the easygoing parent when Nora was younger and it makes you upset when you think too much about it because he should’ve been there for all her milestones and firsts. He should have been there when she crawled and then walked for the first time. He should have come with you when you dropped her off on her first day of Kindergarten and pretended he wasn't crying with you.

There are so many firsts that he should have been next to you and it’s slowly eating away at you because you took that away from him.But it was the right thing to do.

At least, that's what you tell yourself when you go to bed every night.

. . .

“So, how’s it going with Mat?” Jaxon asks, taking a sip of beer and giving you a knowing look. You regretted talking to Jax about your struggles the minute he started asking you the questions you didn’t want to hear. Your best friend is a little too observant sometimes and it always backfires.

“Fine,” you say shortly, staring into your wine glass. Nora is staying at your moms tonight, so you decided to invite your friend over, hoping to get some advice that would help you feel better instead of feeling like you’re being interrogated.

“Right,” he drawls, “that’s why you sent me a cryptic text and haven’t said anything else since “beer or wine?” right? I could be home with my boyfriend right now but you seemed like you were going to spiral and we all know exactly how that ends.”

“Things are fine,” you grumble. “He’s been absolutely perfect with her.”

“Alright, then what’s bothering you?”

“It’s just, I feel guilty, okay? Mat’s being better than I ever hoped to even think about and I feel like I shouldn’t have taken away his chance to be in her life before she was even born,” you say in one breath. “I keep thinking about the things he’s missed, and I feel like-”

Jax cuts you off before you can say anything else, holding up a hand. “Look, you did what you thought was best at the time. Was it necessarily fair? No. You can’t go back though, and you’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep thinking like this. You can’t change the past, but if he wants to be in her life now, and you’re okay with that, you need to make peace with your choices.”

Your shoulders deflate at his words, and you drink the remaining wine in your glass. He’s right about all of it and you hate that. You hate that he’s right and you hate that you can’t accept it.

“I need more wine,” you mumble, standing up and making your way to the kitchen. You don’t usually drink, definitely not since Nora, but you let yourself indulge every now and then. Besides, Jax has always been a bad influence.

You’ve just finished pouring the glass when there’s a knock on your door. You look at the time on the microwave and frown, unsure who would be knocking at eleven o’clock on a Friday night. If anything was wrong, your mom would have called and you don’t have many friends that would make a late night visit.

Abandoning your wine, you walk to the door and open it and come face to face with Mat who looks nervous and definitely like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Uh, hey?” you say but it sounds more like a question. He doesn't seem to be drunk and you don’t know what else would warrant a late night drop in.

“Hey,” he says and just because you have the best luck, Jax decides that now is the right time to follow you to the door.

“Your phone is ringing, and it’s your mom,” he says, freezing when he sees Mat standing there. He looks uncomfortable, and when you turn to Mat, all you see is fury.

See, the problem is, despite nothing romantic going on between you and Jax, relationship talk wasn’t something that you and Mat had brought up. He didn’t bring up his girlfriend, and so far, nobody besides your mom has been around when Mat was with you and Nora. Also, throw in the fact that you’re sure Mat has no idea who Jax is, it’s easy to make assumptions.

“Nevermind,” Mat says shortly, “I’ll leave you to your night.”

You grab his wrist before he can leave, wanting to clear all this up even though it shouldn’t really matter if you were dating someone.

“Wait,” you say and he stops but keeps his back to you.

“Nora woke up and wants to talk to you,” Jax says, breaking the silence and you hesitate, not wanting Mat to leave but knowing you need to talk to your daughter. He seems to sense your dilemma, because he hands you your phone, slips his shoes on and squeezes past you and Mat, calling out "I'll call an uber”, before walking down the hallway of your apartment building.

You feel like an awful friend, and you’ll definitely be making it up to him but you pull Mat inside, shutting the door before holding the phone up to your ear.

“Nora?”

“No,” your mom says softly, “I’ll put her on now.”

You thank her quietly, waiting until you hear your daughter's voice. She’s sniffling, and tells you about the bad dream she had, asking if you can come pick her up. Your mom is trying to comfort her on the other line but it’s no use because she’s set on coming home.

You glance at your wine glass sitting on the counter and curse yourself because this is exactly why you try not to drink.

Mat, as if he is reading your thoughts, says “I’ll go pick her up and bring her here.”

He still looks irritated but his expression softened since he heard Nora. You wouldn’t take him up on his offer but you know how much your mom hates driving in the dark so you just nod, watching him shake his hand out of yours and your face heats up when you realize you hadn’t let go.

“Be back in twenty,” he says before leaving.

“Mat’s on his way to get you, sweetie,” you tell Nora. “He’ll pick you up and bring you straight home, okay?”

She sniffles again and says a quiet, “okay,” before presumably handing the phone back to your mom who you tell that Mat is going to pick her up. She doesn't say anything, but you know she wants to. You realize she probably thinks that he was here with you and your instinct is to correct her but you don’t bother. You thank her and apologize, before bidding goodbye with a promise to let her know when Nora and Mat make it back home.

You clean up while you’re waiting, dump your glass of wine down the sink and start making the couch up so Mat can just sleep here instead of going all the way back to his house after making the trip to pick Nora up.

It’s not long before you hear the door open and close quietly and you look to see Mat carrying a sleeping Nora inside.

“She fell asleep on the drive here,” he explains. “Didn’t want to wake her.”

You nod, pointing him in the direction of her room before sitting on the couch waiting until he comes back. You want to have whatever conversation the two of you need to have even though you know it won’t be a good one.

He’s quiet when he walks into the living room and hesitates before sitting on the couch next to you. You both sit in silence for a minute until you sigh, dropping your head into your hands.

“Jax is a friend,” you mumble. “But even if he wasn’t, you have no place being mad about it.”

“I wasn’t mad,” he argues, “I was caught off guard. I didn’t know you were dating because you hadn’t brought it up.”

“I’m not dating,” you repeat and he sighs.

“I know.”

Another minute of silence before you raise your head and look at him.

“What about you? What happened to your girlfriend?” you ask, even though you know she left.

He shrugs, “she left. Said she wanted no part in raising a child. Not that she would have had any place in Nora’s life if I had a say.”

“Of course you have a say,” you say.

He looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You forget sometimes how good looking he is and it’s probably the alcohol that makes your brain fuzzy but all of a sudden, you just miss him. It’s not just physical attraction either, you can’t help but remember how considerate, loving and caring he was when you dated. You were both young, but it always felt like the two of you would be together forever even though you always knew in the back of your mind that he would have to leave one day and you wouldn’t be able to follow him.

Despite doing your best to forget about him, to get over him the past eight years, the love you felt for him never went away.

“Do you ever think about us? About what could’ve been?” you ask quietly.

“Always,” he says gently with a softness in his eyes that you’ve only seen directed towards Nora since he came back into your life.

“Me too,” you whisper.

He hesitates before lifting a hand and brushing a piece of loose hair that’s fallen in front of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand lingers for a moment, fingertips just barely brushing against your cheek. Your eyes close and you let yourself have this one moment, one minute where you can imagine that you’re seventeen again, laying on your bed with Mat’s arms holding you, whispering empty promises about forever to each other. Just kids in love, thinking forever was possible.

But you’ll never be those kids again.

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#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #hockey fics #hockey fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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