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miracleonice87 · 4 years

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Full of Surprises

a Matthew Tkachuk one-shot

a/n: I rewatched the Tkachuk family Spittin Chiclets interview this morning from the All-Star game in St. Louis and it got me in my Matty feelings. Here’s a proposal story full of fun surprises. Enjoy!

warnings: just swearing — otherwise, total and complete fluff

_____

“Do they know?” I whispered, one arm entwined with one of Matthew’s as both of us stared at the glimmering ring on my left hand.

“Does who know?” Matthew asked in a matching whisper, ducking his head in front of my face. I knew just what he was after — I placed a kiss on the top part of his ear, his favorite, and allowed my tongue to dart out just slightly, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Does your family know?” I clarified as he sat up straight, smirking at me.

We were flying first class, headed to the Tkachuks’ summer home in Cape Cod. I knew that his parents and both of his siblings would be there, but had no concept of how many of them, if any, knew of the engagement that had begun only about eight hours beforehand, on the beach in Bimini.

What I had seen simply as a much-needed getaway from Matthew’s rigid summer workout schedule and from my own bustling days as a graphic designer had quickly turned into the official start of a lifetime together, complete with a Bahamian backdrop.

Matthew shook his head. “No, they have no idea,” he informed me as he pressed a kiss to my temple. I nuzzled my head against his bicep and let my eyes flutter closed, partially in bliss and partially because Matthew and I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep total since the moment he proposed, what with all the celebrating the two of us had done in our hotel room.

I was suddenly so anxious to share our news with our loved ones, starting with Matthew’s family. I smiled at the thought of rehashing the story for any and all who wanted to hear it.

_____

“Matty...” I whispered, tears swiftly filling my eyes and an enormous lump sneaking into my throat.

Matthew had suggested a walk on the beach following our final dinner at the Bimini resort, where we had we spent the evening holding hands over a candlelit table on a private balcony of one of the resort’s fabulous restaurants. After we finished our seafood dinner entrees, he had fed me my half of a delectable piece of chocolate cake as we laughed together behind glasses of red wine.

Little did I know that the sweetest treat was about to come.

Here he was, kneeling in the sand before me, holding a black velvet box, propped open to display the most gorgeous oval-cut diamond ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Matty,” I repeated, this time aloud, as I found my voice again. I took a cautious step toward him and wrapped my hands around his outstretched wrist.

“Taylor... baby?” Matthew prompted, his voice strained, shaky. I suddenly realized that the man in front of me had just poured out his soul to me — promising forever, promising a home together, promising a shared legacy of love, joy, and children. And I had yet to give him the answer he was seeking, or any answer at all. His question hung in the ocean air — time stood still.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Matty, yes! Of course!” I choked out, both of us suddenly overcome with nervous and relieved giggles. He sprung to his feet to kiss me, taking my face in his hands and giving me a firm, lingering kiss.

“Can I put the ring on you now?” Matthew asked when he finally pried his lips away from mine. It was then that reality hit and the tears started to flow.

“Yes! Yes, baby.” I held out a shaking left hand to him, which he stroked with his thumb and kissed sweetly before pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto my finger.

“Oh, my god, it fits perfectly! It’s so beautiful, Matthew!” I exclaimed, gasping at how truly remarkable it looked on my hand. I had imagined what this moment would be like for so many years, ever since I was a young girl with blue glasses in Mrs. Kingsley’s first grade class at McKinley Elementary, watching Matthew play tag from across the playground. The gravity of this moment overwhelmed me and exceeded my every long-held expectation.

The tears continued as I held my hand up to Matthew, showing off my newest accessory. He grinned widely.

“Stay right there, baby,” he instructed, fumbling for his phone in his shorts pocket. “I wanna remember this.” He eventually retrieved the device from his pocket and snapped a quick photo of the momentous occasion before putting his phone away once more. He pulled me in close, our chests flush against each other, hearts racing, and we shared dozens more kisses and laughs there on the shore, both realizing that our forever started tonight.

_____

“Are you happy?” Matthew whispered. My eyes opened and I turned my face up toward his.

“Am I happy?” I asked with an incredulous scoff. “Baby, I’m the happiest,” I reassured. “You make me the happiest.” I sat up further in my plane seat and kissed his cheek, and he smiled down lazily at me. “Good. That’s all that matters to me,” he said.

“Are you happy?” I countered.

He waited a beat, looking deeply into my hazel eyes. “The happiest. The luckiest,” he whispered, stroking my chin with his thumb. I kissed the digit as we stared at each other in content, peaceful silence.

_____

An hour later, our flight landed at Boston Logan Airport. Matthew picked up our suitcases from baggage claim, and we were off to join the Tkachuks at the Cape.

I placed my aviators on my nose as I walked through the automatic doors at the airport’s exit, my newly dubbed fiancé just a step behind me.

“Where’s the car?” I asked over my shoulder, knowing that Matt had arranged for his usual car service to pick us up and haul us to the vacation home.

“Oh, uh... right there.” Matthew threw his head casually in the direction of a black stretch limousine further down the pickup lane. My jaw went slack.

“Matty...” I whispered, peering at him over my sunglasses. “You never get a limo!” He threw his head back in an easy laugh. “Well, I never get engaged, either! Until now,” he remarked. He kissed my cheek and patted my ass lightly with the closed hand that also held his duffle.

“Now, come on, my bride-to-be,” he encouraged. “We’ve got places to be.” I shook my head in disbelief as he sauntered toward the limousine.

_____

Just over an hour later, Matthew and I were pulling into the driveway of the beautiful summer home his family had owned for years. My heart flooded with anticipation. I could not wait for us both to go bounding into the house with our big announcement and be surrounded by loved ones.

“Should I wear my ring? Or should I try and hide it somehow?” I asked quickly, turning toward Matthew as I finished applying some lip gloss, the last step of freshening up my appearance after a long flight.

“You can do whatever you wanna do, babe,” he said, leaning forward and insisting on kissing my freshly-glossed pout. He licked his lips immediately and moaned. “Mmm, peppermint,” he said in a low voice. I chuckled and placed a hand against his cheek, knowing we were sure to celebrate the occasion alone many more times throughout tonight, hopefully after some rest.

“I’m just gonna wear it,” I told him. A grin spread wide across my face as I added, “I’m not gonna be able to keep the news in for long anyway.” Matthew smiled brightly. “Me either, T. Me either,” he told me, kissing my left hand as he had countless times already.

I drew a deep breath and smoothed my fingers over the fabric of my white sundress as the car pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. It was only when I looked out the window that I noticed all the cars parked alongside the perimeter that I had apparently been too busy to see while primping.

“Matty... what are all of these cars doing here? Who’s here?” I asked softly, frozen, eyes wide. Matthew’s smirk overtook one side of his face.

“Why don’t you go see, babe?” he prompted. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to do, or say, or even think.

“Okay,” I finally whispered, taking the hand he had offered me as we moved out of our seats, leaving our belongings behind.

Hand in hand, we walked into the breezeway and through the side door of the house. It was... empty?

I looked up at Matthew, about to ask again why there were so many vehicles in the drive, when a familiar voice called out to us from the back porch.

“Out here!” Chantal...

Matthew was now openly beaming at me, ornery chuckles racking his chest as he gently guided my rigid form to the back sliding glass door. One glance outside stole my breath.

All of his family, all of my family, and dozens of our friends and his teammates stood together in the yard, crowded around tables decked in white, with bundles of silver and white balloons tied together with gold tulle scattered across the lawn. Among the balloon bunches were giant helium-filled diamond rings, and a banner reading “Congratulations, Matthew and Taylor!” was draped across the front of the cabana by the pool.

From where I stood just inside the door, I saw all four of the Tkachuks, my parents, my brother Sean, and my sister Erin huddled together on the deck, the other guests in the yard below starting to cheer as Matthew tenderly pulled me outside. “Come on, babe,” he coaxed with a smile. “There are some people here to see you.”

Tears stung my eyes as I finally stepped outside, clutching Matthew’s hand tightly, fully relying on him to support me and hold me up, both physically and emotionally, just as he always had.

My mom stepped forward from the group first, cupping my face in her hands, tears falling freely onto our cheeks.

“Mommy... you knew!” I said breathlessly. My dad came toward me next, eyes damp, kissing the top of my head. “You all knew!” I exclaimed, loudly enough that many of our other guests several yards away started laughing.

“We knew, sweetheart. Your wonderful fiancé has had all of this planned for quite some time!” my mother explained, pulling away from a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you came all the way from St. Louis!” I told my parents. With a squeeze of my hand, my dad said, “Of course we did. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I threw my arms around them once more, then turned to Keith and Chantal, the sight of them causing me to cry harder.

“Oh, honey! Don’t cry! We’re so happy for you guys,” Keith told me, pulling me close for a hug and kiss on the cheek, his chest vibrating with laughter, as Chantal put her arms around both of us. “So happy, Taylor,” she said, her voice tight as tears escaped her.

Matthew came toward us, having already been greeted warmly by his parents and siblings, and rubbed my back soothingly, his siblings in tow. “I would say welcome to the family, but you’ve already been part of the family for years now, so congratulations, T!” Brady mused, ducking past his brother to wrap me in a suffocating hug, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Don’t break my sister!” Taryn warned, swiping under her damp eyes. The three of us laughed together, Brady slinging an arm around my shoulder while Taryn enveloped me warmly, sobs shuddering our shoulders. “You’re marrying my stupid brother! What the hell,” she laughed. I pulled back and looked at her with a giddy chuckle. “What the hell!” I echoed emphatically.

Matthew laughed along as he pulled away from hugging both my siblings, who then stepped forward to greet me, Erin squealing as the three of us jumped up and down a few times, arms circling one another. Matthew put his arms around my waist after Erin and Sean each hugged me and kissed my face, rushed words of congratulations and disbelief flying from their lips, as if they’d been holding them in for ages. I leaned back against Matthew’s chest for a moment before turning in his grasp.

“They all knew,” I said in awe. “Everybody knew!” Matthew nodded, carefully swiping his thumb under my eyes so as not to completely wreck my makeup. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell them yourself, but I just wanted everyone to be here with us to celebrate,” he said.

“Matty, don’t you dare apologize! The last twelve hours have made me so goddamn happy — I can’t even explain it,” I told him, gripping his white button-down at his waistline as I kissed him firmly, his insistence about the two of us wearing similar outfits for the flight home finally making sense.

“Me too, Taylor. Honestly. I just wanna spend the rest of my days making you as happy as I possibly can,” he told me, his blue eyes sparkling from a few happy tears.

I could not believe that my strong, stubborn, sassy fiancé was crying again for the second time in less than one full day. I kissed the tip of his nose and tucked some of his hair behind his ear.

“You are just full of surprises, Matthew Tkachuk,” I told him, slinging my arms around his neck.

He angled his face closer, stopping just short of pressing his lips on mine.

“You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of me, future Mrs. Tkachuk?” he asked. My heart soared. He guided my hips to sway back and forth gently, the sort of natural, comfortable, everyday dance I was fully prepared to enjoy for the rest of time.

“Hell yeah,” I mumbled against his lips, joyful tears springing to my eyes once more, as our mouths finally met.

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 4 years

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Hip-Check (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

Alright y’all, I finally fixed it! Hopefully this version is more coherent now that I’m not drunk off my ass.

Rating: T

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/Reader

Words: 1572

Warnings: none

Requested: yes/no

Summary: You’re just trying to get coffee after a long night at work. You end up getting a little extra.

Your job fucking sucks. Well, it doesn’t really, you’re just in a bad mood after a shitty shift. Spring and summer are the busiest time of year, which is stressful enough, but also everything that could go wrong did go wrong today. A real Murphy’s Law of a shift. Your propane tank had a leak, so your forklift ran out and stopped at the far end of the dock, meaning you had to walk all the way down and back with the tanks since everyone else was too busy to grab one for you. Then the system went down, so you had to run all your bills to and from the supervisor’s desk for them to put in directly. Then approximately eight million pallets needed to be repaired or entirely re-stacked throughout the seven hours you were there. Oh, and your unbearable coworker with an obvious crush on you— while also seeming to think you’re his personal therapist— kept stopping by your trucks to chat. So over all, super fun day. Or night, rather. You get off at 6am, meaning it’s 6:15 when you get to Starbucks to treat yourself to something sugary and caffeinated before going to give your friend’s daughter a lift to school.

The drive-through is packed, so you decide to go inside and wait in that hellish line instead. At least that way you can play on your phone without someone honking at you for not moving up two feet .2 seconds after it opens up. You’re not really in the mood to be around people, especially in a noisy place after a noisy night at work, but whatever. You open the door, and just before you can go through, someone darts inside in front of you, jostling you a bit. Irritating on its own, yes, but what really gets your hackles raised is that they don’t even say anything. No apology, no thank you, no nothing. Just breeze past you, fucking ram into you, and say fuck all about it. Any other day, you’d roll your eyes and let it go, but not today. Not today.

“Hey man,” you call as you come in the door behind them, “What the fuck?” They turn to face you, looking annoyed, and oh shit. You know exactly who that is, and you don’t really want to piss him off. But you started it and now you’ve gotta finish it.

“What?” he demands, standing tall and crossing his arms over his puffed up chest like he’s trying to be intimidating.

“Did you seriously just do that?” it’s not really a question, more like a confirmation. A bit of an aggressive confirmation, but.

“I’m in a hurry,” he says, like that’s a legitimate excuse.

“So am I,” you’re not, “You don’t see me pushing people.” A few people had looked over when you’d first confronted him, but they’ve all looked away by this point, more interested in coffee than you two, so you don’t feel too bad. That’s the beauty of cities: no one gives a shit what you do so long as it doesn’t affect them. Tkachuk stares you down, but when you just fold your arms and stare right back, he huffs and rolls his eyes. He throws out a “whatever” and turns his back on you. Oh hell no. You get in line behind him, because you’re not about to wait longer than necessary, but this definitely isn’t over.

“Are you fucking serious, dude?” you hiss just loud enough for him to hear. He turns back toward you.

“I don’t have time for this,” he snips right in your face. This close up, he’s huge, and it’s more than a bit intimidating, but your spite carries you through.

“Neither do the rest of us,” you spit back, “You can wait like everybody else. There’s a fucking line anyway.” This is so stupid. You would’ve held the door for him if he’d just waited a damn minute. Something changes in his expression, though, and he deflates a bit. The person behind you clears their throat, and the two of you shuffle forward to fill the several-person-wide gap that had formed. With that second to breathe, your anger starts to dissipate pretty quickly. God, you’ve been so rude to the other customers, causing a scene like this. At least it seems like Tkachuk is starting to unwind, which makes it easier for you to regain your composure.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a pause, like apologizing was akin to bathing a cat, “It’s just--” He trails off, looks frustrated, shuffles up in the line, looks frustrated some more.

“My sister is in town and I promised I’d get her Starbucks for her first day here,” he explains, like he’d rather be admitting to murder, “I forgot about it, so I’m trying to get it before she wakes up.” Oh. That’s actually. Sweet? Obviously it’s still a dick move to check someone in a coffee shop, but the fact that he did it for a good cause helps soothe your anger all the more.

“I just want everything to be perfect, y’know?” he finishes, head still held high despite his hunched shoulders and clenched fists. You’re not usually a touchy-feely person, but you’re nearly overwhelmed with the urge to hug him. You wish your brothers cared that much about you. While you don’t hug him, you do touch the outside of his wrist with gentle fingertips, looking up into his eyes when they snap to you. They’re a disarming shade of blue that you hadn’t really noticed before, and you almost forget what you were going to say. Focus.

“I’m sure she’ll be happy just to have her brother around,” you assure him, all annoyance forgotten, “As long as you don’t hip check her through a door.” Okay, maybe not entirely forgotten. It gets him to laugh, shaking his head a bit, and his posture relaxes. You can feel the muscles and tendons in his wrist and forearm go slack, and for some reason his hands going soft makes you want to hold them. You’re gonna end up in love with the dude by time you leave, at this rate.

“I really am sorry about that,” he says, “I thought I had enough room.” You just shrug and straighten back up alongside him.

“Eh, It wasn’t that big of a deal,” you dismiss, “I just had a bad day at work and took it out on you. Sorry about that.” His brows look much cuter when they’re furrowed in confusion rather than anger.

“You had a bad day at work already?” he asks. You huff a laugh.

“I work night shift,” you explain, “So I guess more of a bad night at work.” You watch as realization dawns on his face, his mouth making a silent “oh”. Then you realize you’re still basically holding his wrist, so you bring your hand back to your side and hope he didn’t notice, so you can avoid that embarrassment. Except he stops you with a soft grip on your fingers, pulling you to the counter alongside him. He snags a pen from the counter and scribbles something on the back of your hand while effortlessly rattling off his order to the barista.

“And whatever she wants,” he tacks on at the end, motioning to you with a jerk of his head.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you say, dumbfounded at how far left this interaction has gone. How the hell did you go from wanting to punch him, to him offering to buy your coffee? Damn, you must be charming.

“It’s the least I can do,” he insists, and you’re not about to turn down a free drink. He plunks the pen back onto the counter and pays after you order, still holding your hand. When you look down, you-- oh. That’s. That is his phone number. On your hand. Your hand. After you just chewed him out in public for being rude, and he gave you his number. What the hell.

“I forgot that we have to wait for them to make the drinks, so this doesn’t have the same effect, huh?” he says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly with one hand, and leading you to the waiting area with the other. Matthew Tkachuk just gave you his phone number. Maybe you got hit in the head with a box on the dock, and this is all a dream. That would make more sense.

“I was gonna say ‘text me’ and walk away all cool, but,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t always work out that way.” He was trying to be cool. He was going to write his number on your hand and walk away “cool”. Well, if he’s going to give you the opportunity, you’re not going to overlook the chance.

“Damn,” you say, shaking your head facetiously, “Gotta work on your timing.” Tkachuk looks mildly devastated until he realizes you’re joking, which makes you feel mildly powerful. He must really want to see you. The both of you chat for a few minutes, the subject switching between hockey and coffee and family until his name is called. He steps forward to take his drinks and when he turns back to you, he looks conflicted.

“Better go give her that coffee,” you say, “I’ll see you later?” A small smile grows on his face.

“Yeah,” he replies, eyes soft, “Yeah, you will.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagines #ri #andis coping mechanism #pls tell me if this doesnt make any sense

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