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mack-devereaux · 4 months

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King Sized Bed

Sebastian Aho

Authors note! This is a work of fiction and of my imagination. This is in no way based on true events or how I think these people would act in real life. If you don’t like the fic please scroll on, if you do like it please reblog or give a ❤️! Much love to all of you!

Pictures are from Pinterest so credit to who ever took them.

Triggers: Cursing, drinking. Suggested adult activities but no actual smut. I think that’s it.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d always enjoyed sports. Hockey especially, so when you and your best friend moved to Raleigh North Carolina for school it was just a perk that you could attend the occasional hockey game. That was until your best friend had caught the eye of a certain Finnish player. Teuvo Teräväinen. They’d met at a bar after a big playoff win, she looked so happy, and you loved that. A few months into them dating it was almost required for her to be at every game during the new season, not that you were complaining. You loved spending time with her and of course seeing hot nhl players was a huge perk to your shenanigans, but as always the world had a funny way of bringing certain people together and wherever one Finn went, there was another close by. Which was how your little crush on Sebastian Aho developed.

When your best friend got her ticket for the game from Teuvo, yours came shortly after. Always seated together. Always close to the home bench. Always close to the ice. You thought it was just Teuvo telling Sebastian he didn’t want his girlfriend being alone at the games and that your ticket was being forced from the forward, but truthfully Sebastian was actually extremely excited that he could give his ticket to someone. Especially you. He thought it was perfect. Teuvo being his best friend and dating your best friend. It all made sense, but he was a man who didn’t express his emotions very often, so he left it alone. Just dropping hints with the free tickets and invites to all the parties as his ‘plus one’ or more so Teuvos ‘extra plus one’. He found your obliviousness endearing. No matter how obvious he was with his flirting or comments about how happy he was to see you, you never caught on to the genuine feelings and truth behind his actions. Or if you did you just brushed it off, although he saw right through your nerves and shyness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting down in the tunnels by the locker rooms at the end of the games were always your least favorite. You didn’t belong there, no matter how hard your best friend tried to get you to feel comfortable you just weren’t. All the girlfriends and wives were gorgeous and dressed to the nines. Most of the time you just wore jeans or leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Then of course there were the puck bunnies, leaving very little to the imagination. Not that you were one to judge, you always said ‘if you’ve got it, flaunt it’. You knew you had a nice body, you just preferred not to show it off around the wags and at games. You tried to ignore the stares from the wags and groupies, but soon all you could hear was the girls trying to get the attention of some of the players. Teuvo came over grabbing your best friend and whisking her away, you laughed because you knew he hated the extra attention after they left the locker room. You soon felt a hand on your back, turning to see the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen, of course belonging to the man who had your feelings all over the place.

“Hey Sebastian, good game out there. You guys played great” and you meant it. He was on fire, and everyone knew it.

“Thank you for coming to watch, means a lot” he said without breaking eye contact.

He looked up at his friends and noticed they had all headed towards the parking lot.

“Did you drive here? I can take you home if not” Sebastian said “I think your ride is leaving.”

“We grabbed an Uber, I didn’t really think of having a plan to drive home” you laughed, slightly embarrassed by the lack of planning on your end.

“No worries, I’m glad to drive you” he grabbed your hand and led you towards the parking lot.

The ride to your apartment was too short. His hand immediately finding a spot on your thigh, and your hand immediately finding the top of his. You guys found your hands constantly touching each other when no one else was around. He had asked about your schooling and how everything was going with your last year. You asked him about the upcoming games. It was all very domestic and you couldn’t help but think what everyday life would be like with him. As he pulled up to your apartment neither of you moved. How comfortable you were around him spoke volumes. You had never really felt this comfortable around anyone besides your best friend. Looking down at your hands you started playing with his fingers . “Thank you for driving me home Sebastian” you smiled at him.

He smiled back as you opened the door and walked towards your apartment building. As you buzzed yourself in you turned to find him still sitting there watching you. Making sure you made it safe.

Ten minutes later a text came through to your phone.

From Fishy 🐠:

How were your seats for the game this time? Were they ok?

To Fishy 🐠:

They were perfect. Thank you ❤️

From Fishy🐠:

Some of the guys and their girlfriends are coming over tomorrow night. You should come.

To Fishy 🐠:

I’d love to. Goodnight Sebastian 💕

Throwing his phone to the side. He stared at his ceiling. This was his chance. He had spent months trying to find a way to make his move on you. He knew how you felt about him. He’s seen multiple text conversations between Teuvo and his girlfriend and heard multiple phone calls between the two girls, unknowingly to the girl in question of course. She would die of embarrassment had she known what he knew. He had tried to make his feelings clear but somehow you hadn’t caught on to any of his hints. He was just going to have to be more forward the next time he saw you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your best friend were getting ready for the party at Sebastian’s house. They had a great month as far as games went and the guys wanted to celebrate. It wasn’t uncommon for you and your best friend to get ready together on FaceTime. Normally she would come over to get ready with you but she had stayed with Teuvo the previous night. You technically still lived together but you couldn’t blame her for wanting to stay with her hot nhl boyfriend overnight. In fact you were positive you’d do the same thing if you had a hot nhl boyfriend. Suddenly a teasing voice came over the phone breaking you out of your thoughts.

“So you do realize you actually have to talk to Fishy tonight right? Especially since he’s the one that invited you” Teuvo teased you.

“Oh my God Teuvo stop. She’s already nervous” your best friend said.

“I talk to him! And you really shouldn’t be going through our text conversations, there’s classified information in there” You said rolling your eyes and glaring at your phone. Teuvo just rolling his eyes back at you. This was a common conversation between the three of you. “What are you wearing tonight?” You added, deciding to ignore her boyfriend.

“A short tight dress! Maybe you do the same!” Teuvo shouted.

“Ok you’re done, out!” Your best friend said as she was pushing Teuvo out of the bathroom she was getting ready in. “Anyway, I am wearing that cute little navy dress I bought two weeks ago” she said as she went back to curling her hair.

“So a short tight dress” you said laughing.

“Oh wear that cute black strappy one! The one you wore for New Years last year! Oh my gosh Sebastian is gonna die when he sees you in that again” your best friend said.

“Ugh, I remember waking up on his couch the next morning” you groaned.

“Nooooo, you remember the both of you waking up on that couch, and he damn near ripped Seth’s head off when Seth commented how good you looked” your best friend said grinning at you “anyway I think we are gonna leave soon, text me when you head out. Love you!!”

“Love you bye” you threw yourself on your bed and sighed as she hung up the phone. Thinking back to New Years, that happened to be the first night you had spent with him, all innocent of course. You had too much to drink and Sebastian was kind enough to let you crash on his couch, in his arms. Looking at the clock you decided you had wasted enough time. It was now or never, and you were dying to see a certain Finn tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wore the dress. Because of course you did. You put your car in park as you looked up at the house, there were a few cars out front but not many. Assuming only a few players with their significant others and all the single guys came over. You checked your makeup in the mirror one last time. Letting out a long breath you grabbed your keys and got out of the car. As you made your way to the front door, slowing your strides, your delusions began to kick in. Wondering what it would be like to come home to this house every night. To have one of the star players come home to you every night. To have him love you in ways no other man ever could. Was this a crush? No, it was much more. It was just now that you realized you were in love with Sebastian.

You walked in to the house and were immediately greeted with the sounds of laughter and chatter from all the people you had grown close to in the last year. You saw him as soon as you walked in, his eyes catching yours and for a moment time stood still. He looked good. His brown eyes softening and a small smile crept on his face. Before you could even take a moment to breathe your best friend and a few of the other girlfriend’s immediately greeted you and you soon felt at ease. What you didn’t see is how Sebastian’s gaze dragged down your body, inappropriate thoughts flooding his mind as he saw what you happened to be wearing, and then smirking at the memory of New Years when you fell asleep in his arms wearing that particular dress. He took a drink as he jumped back in to the conversation between Seth and KK.

As the night went on you slowly drank your glass of wine. Not wanting to drink too much or too fast so you could drive home later. The party had slowly moved to the back yard around the fire pit. As you finished your wine you got up and walked back into the house to put your glass away and to get a drink of water. Sebastian watching you. Teuvo nudged him and Sebastian downed his beer and followed you into the house, it was now or never. Oblivious to what was happening behind you, you noticed some empty food containers and wine bottles on the counter, setting your glass down you decided to tidy up a bit.

“You don’t need to clean y/n” Sebastian said as he opened the fridge to grab another bottle of wine “have another glass of wine and come back outside, let’s just relax and enjoy time with our friends.”

“Umm, I think I’ll just have water, I need to drive home tonight” you said quietly, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge.

Sebastian looked behind him making sure no one was eavesdropping. He stepped closer to you.

“You are always welcome to stay here” he said as he grabbed your glass from in front of you. “I’ll move your car into the driveway.” He held his hand out for your keys.

“I don’t want to impose Sebastian, you’ve got a lot going on tonight” you smiled shyly.

“Y/n” the way he said your name was so sensual, eyes staring so intensely at you “at what point are we going to acknowledge what’s happening between us.”

“I don’t know what you mean” you tried avoiding his piercing stare, as he cornered you in the kitchen.

“I’ve got a spare bedroom, and I’ve got a very comfortable couch, as you already know.” Your heart almost stops as he steps closer to you, he puts a hand on your waist as he pours more wine in your glass. Your favorite wine, of course he had that in his fridge, you thought. He knows everything about you.

“Or… I’ve got half of a very comfortable king sized bed that isn’t being used” he sets the wine bottle down, “unless you find yourself on my half of the bed” he smirked, he then sets the water bottle next to the glass of wine he just poured. You realizing he’s making you choose. This decision was more than just water or wine. Water meaning staying friends, and wine meaning more.

“You are more than welcome to any of those three options, but..” he grabs your chin and drags his thump down your bottom lip, tilting your head up to look at him. “The king sized bed is definitely the more..” he paused, “enticing option.” His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes “your choice love.” He walks away and back outside.

You felt hot, the room was all of a sudden so small. Did that actually happen? Did he actually just invite you to his bed? You stared at the bottle of water and then moved your gaze to the wine glass. A million thoughts were running through your head. Looking outside you saw all your friends, how they were with their significant others. You deserved to be happy too. And Sebastian could give you that, you knew you’d be happy with him, and he’d be happy with you. All you’ve ever wanted just right in front of you. Taking a deep breath you grabbed the glass of wine and made your way back outside to your friends. Catching Sebastian’s eye over the fire he smirked, noticing the wine glass in your hand. A silent confirmation as to what was going to happen later that night. You turned into your best friends side and told her about the encounter that happened just a few minutes ago in the kitchen. Her eyes shooting to the Finnish players. A silent conversation happening between her and Teuvo as they made eye contact.

“It’s about time, I’ve been waiting for this to happen for months. You better call me as soon as possible tomorrow morning” she smiled at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were slightly more relaxed after the second glass of wine, very much coherent and in control of your actions, you had just enough alcohol to take the edge off. The party started to dwindle. Teuvo and your best friend currently saying their goodbyes. As soon as the front door lock clicked into place you immediately felt his gaze on you. His eyes taking every part of your body in, and you doing the same to him. His broad shoulders, his muscular chest. Everything about him was just beautiful. He truly was one of the most attractive men you’ve seen. And he wanted you. He made that very clear earlier.

“Should I set up the spare room for you or are you joining me tonight” he spoke so calm and confident. His gaze so intense.

“I think I’d like to stay with you tonight, if that’s okay” you said quietly but with just as much confidence.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you to say that” he said as he walked towards you. You could practically feel his heart beating just as fast as yours as he pulled you into a kiss, your lips moving together so perfectly. Electricity shooting down your spine. As he pulled away you could only think of what he was like in bed, what you two would feel like together in such intimate moments in his bedroom. What caught you off guard was how relaxed you became as soon as his lips met yours the second time. No more nerves, no more anxiety, you felt at home. Your mind reluctantly went to a moment last year when your best friend had met Teuvo.

*flashback*

Hearing the front door shut you said “so.. how was your night?” You turned to smirk at your best friend.

“He is absolutely incredible y/n. It was the perfect date and the perfect night and he’s just so…” your best friend gushed on and on about her date with a guy she met a few days ago.

“Let me guess, perfect?” You laughed.

“Y/n I wasn’t even nervous around him. That’s how you know you’ve met the right person. There’s no nerves, there’s no anxiousness. Just calm. He’s the one I know it.” Your best friend laid on the couch next to you.

“I’m happy for you, you deserve to be happy” you said genuinely.

“Who would have thought my person was THE Teuvo Teräväinen of the Carolina Hurricanes.”

*present*

Soon it was a flash of teeth clashing and hands grabbing. Clothes disappearing as he lead you to his bedroom. You soon felt your back hit his mattress and good lord he was right. The king bed was definitely the best option of the night. As the rest of your clothes came off the praises began. You had never felt more beautiful than in that moment. In such intimate moments where men often become selfish, Sebastian was the opposite. He spent all night worshiping every single inch of your body, making you feel like the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Putting your pleasure before his, and he definitely satisfied you more than once. As you both came down from your highs your breathing started to slow. Cuddled into his chest and drawing shapes on his stomach with your fingers. In that moment you both realized you were it for each other. He shifted a bit and you looked up towards his face, grabbing your chin and kissing you softly one more time that night.

“In case I wasn’t clear enough, I really want to see where this relationship can go” Sebastian spoke softly.

“I think I’d like that” you whispered.

“Goodnight y/n”.

“Goodnight Sebastian”.

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey imagines #carolina hurricanes #sebastian aho imagine #sebastian aho

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questionablyrhetoric · 4 months

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tricks i use to not die

(will be updated from time to time)

1. walking. obviously you always get the whole “walk it’s so good for you,” but walks can often suck. if you play a high intensity sport like i do several times a week, doing intense workouts outside of that is very detrimental and you WILL burn out. walking helps burn calories, get steps in, and overall makes you feel better.

2. eat serving sizes. it’s specific, but then i know exactly what i’m eating when i’m eating it, especially when it comes to unhealthy snacks. (plus those are often very small serving sizes)

3. waiting. when i want to eat i always wait 15 minutes before, so i can really think on my decision and it’s not a spur of the moment choice.

4. this may only work for some, but tell yourself you can eat. you see a snack you can say “oh that’s perfect! i’ll eat that later.” but as time goes on you lose interest and don’t end up eating it. restrict your food, not your mind.

5. stay out of the house. currently for me it’s difficult because it’s winter in canada, and i want to stay warm, but i try to get in at least a walk a day and spend time downtown or with friends. (this works because my best friend also doesn’t eat a lot and has a gluten intolerance like me, so our outings rarely revolve around food)

6. focus on nutrients. everyone says this, but it’s true. think how what you plan to eat will do for your body, and if you want to actually gain nutrients from this.

7. get in a routine. for me i wake up at 5:00, have a shower, do a few easy workouts, do some stretches, get homework done (if needed), and then get some rest time before i start getting ready. my mornings are beneficial to me mentally for lots of reasons i won’t list, and a routine will give you something to rely on.

8. never have a “fuck it” mentality. you ate chocolate? that’s fine. enjoy it. but don’t believe your day is ruined and then binge. people slip up, they go over limits, and that’s okay. don’t make it worse.

9. find something to do. take up a new hobby, or learn a new skill, or work on a project. find something you genuinely enjoy and work on it. your mind will stay occupied.

10. if you use it, find th1n$pø that looks like you. i could never get behind the skinny asian girls who are about 5’0 and 70 lbs. for me i personally just want to look like a skeleton, so i prefer the more 🦴spo type. but if you’re going for more realistic goals, find photos that are similar to your body and build. you can’t change your skeleton. i’m sorry.

11. if you happen to be poc or have really curly hair, get it done. i spent eight hours in a hair salon getting braids. easiest fast of my life.

12. this is a habit i still struggle with, but try not to weigh/measure obsessively. if you weigh yourself multiple times a day you’ll get discouraged. i aim for about twice a week, and try and focus on subtler things (my rings being lose, my clothes looking bigger, making a new hole in my belt, etc). it keeps optimism going.

13. if you can, join a sport. i play hockey and i burn between 700-900 cals from one practice, which is only an hour. incredibly helpful and fun all at once.

14. i’m so going to hell for this, but romanticism. you think i’m enjoying this? fuck no. but by imagining the little things and romanticizing my little disorder, i’m keeping myself in a decent enough headspace to keep going. (i think i’ll make a longer post on this topic later)

15. this is incredibly difficult, but act. lie your ass off. do your homework, smile, make jokes, socialize. don’t change immediately and try and act as everything’s fine, people won’t catch on for a while if you do.

16. have a goal that is for you, but not just about looks. this is a little tricky. most often i see people either doing this for a) to look more attractive. b) so the object of their affections will reciprocate. or c) to get revenge on those who’ve body-shamed them. my current goal is to fit the part for the role i got casted in, more to embody the character. obviously i do this for looks as well, but mainly it’s so i can kinda method act. find something specific to work towards alongside your other goals.

17. water. i’m personally not one of those people who chugs litres daily, but i try to drink at least one water bottle full daily. if you find yourself hating the taste of water, get some of those 0 cal flavourers. mine’s berry pomegranate.

18. become loyal to your brands. i only eat two kinds of protein bars, only drink coke zero or diet dr. pepper. this could just be me, but experimenting doesn’t make me feel very safe. i like to know what i’m eating inside and out.

19. always, ALWAYS keep something on you. i’m not joking. if you’re going out after three days of fasting get a fucking cereal bar or something, because you can easily get faint and risk it. i’m not telling you to eat, but always keep food on you for emergency.

20. spend time alone. don’t completely isolate yourself, but be alone when you need to. it gives your mind a break from the stresses of social life and allows you to just get some good thinking in.

21. get used to small portions. if you go out for a meal, get a small salad instead of a large, small coffees, forgo snacks, stay with water instead of getting a drink. this both gives you less food and has you not spending so much money.

22. go to bed early. we all probably know by now when you don’t eat you have insomnia, so by going to bed at say nine, if you spend maybe, three hours awake, you’re still getting roughly 6-8 hours of sleep depending on when you wake up. if you had gone to bed at midnight, you’d have gotten about 3-5 hours.

23. i cannot stress this enough. IF YOU ARE DRINKING, FOLLOW THE RULES. drinking on an empty stomach is dangerous enough, remember to wait 30 minutes between drinks, drink water, never accept rides from drunk people or drive yourself, etc. we’re already risking our lives, no need to get worse.

24. take good care of myself. although i look like i’m rotting away, i’m incredibly intense when it comes to personal hygiene. it’s easier for me personally to exist when i’m clean and fresh, and spending time doing my hair or makeup helps distract me.

25. cook your own food. i understand a lot of people may not have the time or money to afford cooking for themselves, or maybe they just don’t like cooking, and that’s fine. but if you have access to a kitchen and ingredients, look up some recipes! spend time learning! it’s so much fun and gives me a way to both pass the time and know exactly what i’m putting in my food.

26. if you wish, go vegan or vegetarian. i’ve been on a strict gluten free diet for a few years now due to an intolerance (so against my will), but i’m coming up to a year being vegetarian by choice. not trying to preach this lifestyle onto you, but if you want to eat more vegetables or have an easier excuse for just getting a salad when out with friends, there you go.

27. do things you actually enjoy. i’m not going to force myself to run because i fucking hate running, but i’m perfectly comfortable going for a bike ride or long walk. i’m not one for soccer, but i’ll play hockey and ski. if you’re exercising, don’t force yourself to do something you hate. do something fun and enjoyable, and everyone’s different so don’t feel pressured to be “better.”

28. (i sound like such a consumer) go shopping. seriously. going to a mall will get you thousands of steps and thousands of dollars in debt but fuck it we ball.

29. try to be mindful. lately i’ve been getting into journalling again to try and get off screens, and also been doing puzzles to stay relaxed and focused. it’s tempting to just scroll eternally, but spending some uninterrupted time to just think and exist is quite beneficial to your mental health. and considering you’re on this side of tumblr, you need it.

30. get outside. even if not to exercise, if it’s just to sit on the curb or feed birds, get outside. it’s just so good for your mental health and seriously you’ll feel better.

this post is very long, but i still plan to update it.

#ana rexx #tw self destructive behavior #tw ana diary #ana bllog #ed not sheeren #⭐️ving #🦴spo #ana rant #ana tricks #ana trigger #ed bllog #ed tricks #ed trigger warning #ana talks #tw relaspe

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mendeshoney · 2 years

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you know my weakness is you

author's note: well, you know, every now and then I remember I can write and Mat is the only player I apparently write about anymore, so here we are! this is I think my third (??? yikes) story I've written with an actual FMC character.

this character is a WOC and is plus sized bc...well, that's what I know as a person and it's kinda time I start actually trying to write like it. so let's just pretend there's a world where POC plus sized hockey wags can exist, mkay? i'm also manipulating some of the other wags of the team, so, that is also happening.

tags/warnings in no particular order: 18+, slight angst, enemies to lovers, original female character, WOC character, consensual unprotected sex, spit play, lots of kissing, more unprotected sex

word count: ~ 11,727k

Bruises.

So many bruises.

There were bruises on Summer’s arms and legs. Another on her cheek. All purple and splotchy and not at all good. They looked ugly and marred her brown skin in an unpleasant way that made his stomach churn.

Mat continued to take catalog - scrapes on her knees and elbows, and one on the bit of collarbone he could see before the rest disappeared beneath her white tank top. There was a cut on her head that was covered with a thin bandage, and he could see how part of it ran past her hairline and into her mess of curls. The final injury he clocked that made his composure snap was the cut on her plump bottom lip that made his blood run cold.

What the fuck.

“What the hell happened to you?” Mat demanded.

He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud, or that it came out so harshly until Summer stopped speaking mid-sentence. His friends’ heads swiveled toward him comically, all of them wearing matching “what the fuck” looks at the level of venom in each syllable.

Summer’s usual smile that she had been wearing as she was speaking had diminished, barely ghosting her lips now, and Mat internally kicked himself as the light that came with it left her eyes slowly. That look, the slightly kicked-puppy one he was so used to her looking at him with, stirred up an ache inside of him this time.

“She was just telling us about it, asshole.” Sydney spit, Marty frowning slightly at him from where he was wrapped around his wife.

“I got into an ATV accident.” Summer told him softly, a little slowly as well, and Mat watched the way her lips formed the words, watching how it hurt her a little to speak them with her damaged lip. “I’m okay,” She reassured him quickly. “It looks worse than it is.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides. “How?” He demanded again.

Mat remembers, briefly, that when he last spoke to Tito, his best friend had mentioned how Summer and that piece of shit boyfriend of hers were going ATV riding with his family. Clearly, clearly, he had to have been at fault, right?

“We flipped over.” Summer says, confirming his suspicions, and seemingly everyone else’s, because she flinches, back tracking a little. “It was an accident.”

Mat scoffs, and Summer’s brown eyes narrow at him. He shakes his head, and before he can say anything else, Anders clears his throat.

“She’s fine.” He echoes.

Figures. Mat thinks, scowling. Of course Anders would come to her rescue.

Summer Maldonado was the younger sister to Sabrina Maldonado, the first Filipino Miss USA and his team captain’s fiance. Sabrina had been the Islanders’ in-arena host up until she began dating Anders in his second season with the team. She’d been everyone’s favorite significant other, as perfect in real life as she was on the pageant stage, and it wasn’t until Summer was legal and Sabrina had deemed Anders’ teammates as mildly gentlemanly that she deemed it okay to start bringing Summer around.

That of course, had been Mat’s rookie year. And for some reason, a reason he can’t quite understand, even though he’d taken one look at Summer that first day and deemed her the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life - caramel skin he imagined tasted as good as it looked, curves that he’d only hoped in his wildest fantasies he’d be able to map with his hands, long brown curly hair he wanted to feel between his fingers, bury his nose in - she’d hated him.

So he hated her too.

And had every day since.

Except today. Especially not today. Not when she showed up looking like she fought in the main event pay per view of a UFC title bout the night before.

How could he hate her when he wanted to understand how someone could allow her to walk away with all this damage to her precious body? A body he still hoped to worship someday, just once, if he got the chance.

Mat walks away, decides he can’t look at Summer or the god awful damage to her any longer. It makes him feel sick inside, and so he marches into Anders’ kitchen, flings open the fridge with way more force than necessary, and grabs the neck of a beer bottle so tight he pictures it’s the neck of Summer’s shitbag of a boyfriend.

He pops the cap off with a bottle opener and takes a hefty swig, leaning against the kitchen counter and shutting his eyes as he tilts his head up to face the ceiling.

Mat hears Anders’ sigh as he enters the kitchen, closing the sliding door behind him and joining Mat as he brooded.

“Don’t give her anymore shit about it, understand?” Anders warns, using his stupid captainly voice that he knows will get Mat under heel.

“Did that dickbag do it?” Mat counters.

“He was there, yes. He was driving the ATV when it flipped, but it was an accident. Sabrina’s already laid into Summer for it.”

At that, Mat’s eyes fly open, and Anders visibly winces. “Why?”

That was definitely a red flag. If it was an accident as everyone had been saying, what was there for Sabrina to be mad about?

Anders knew he fucked up, but instead of admit it, he tried to recover. “Safety.”

“Bullshit.” Mat spit. The bruises on Summer’s skin flashed in his mind, and Mat was certain he’d never be able to get the image out of his brain for the rest of his life. “What did Will do?”

He hated using that idiot’s name.

Anders seemed to hesitate, but at Mat’s fiery gaze, he caved. “He dropped her off at the hospital but he didn’t stick around. Sabrina had to go pick her up from the ER last night.”

Alone.

Mat’s chest twisted into something wicked. That dead fuck had left Summer alone in the ER after his idiocy, and Summer had the audacity to play it off like…like…

There was something hot and flaming in his veins that gave him half a mind to storm back outside and yell at Summer until she called her sorry excuse of a boyfriend to dump his ass. But as quick as his anger came, Mat forced it away.

What did he care?

She didn’t even like him. He wasn’t supposed to like her.

He wanted to say a thousand different things to Anders, but didn’t. He stood there, under the scrutiny of his captain’s gaze a little longer, and all he could say was “Whatever.”

Summer remembers the day she met Mat.

She remembers how the team had showed up at Anders and Sabrina’s house, how she’d been in Sabrina’s office submitting her final paper for the fall semester of her freshman year at Columbia, how she’d come out of the office at the sound of her name from her sister, and sauntered into the kitchen with a nervous yet shy smile on her face.

There’d only been about four of them, the first group to arrive, and Sabrina hoped that her casual outfit of blue jeans and a white tank top hadn’t been as underdressed as she feared when she spotted him.

Mathew Barzal. The new kid to the team, and according to what she’d been hearing from Islanders fans, the second coming of Jesus to the team. He’d been as handsome as she’d expected, as good looking as the girls at school had said, and Summer was shocked when she found herself under the intensity of his gaze as it ran over her body.

It felt like he’d taken his sweet time when it had maybe only been ten seconds max. Her stomach had churned uncomfortably anyway as he took in his fill, and while Summer had been working on her confidence, had been working on learning to love herself as she was, she suddenly didn’t like how he made her feel the opposite. A guy as gorgeous as that? What else could he be doing when looking at a girl like her except judging? Something ugly reared its head within her, made her feel terrible without reason, so when his eyes finally found hers, she looked away from him dismissively, drawing a line in the sand.

“They’re nice, but they’re still boys.” Sabrina had told her before they had arrived. “Just don’t let them get to you if they start to bother you.”

Summer took it to heart. Refusing to let Mat Barzal, or any man, get under her skin.

Mat scrolls through Instagram aimlessly, resting on Tito’s couch while he waits for him to get ready so they can go get dinner.

As he’s scrolling, he sees a picture Sabrina posted of her and her sister that’s been uploaded fifteen minutes ago.

It’s a picture from last Spring, he realizes, when he spots the little streak of baby pink hair Summer had under all of her layers. Summer’s hair is straight in the photo, and she’s wearing a long sleeve black dress that cuts off mid thigh, white heels, and she’s sitting next to Sabrina, who’s dressed similarly.

He zeroes in on Sabrina’s caption after getting his fill of Summer and her figure, heart pounding a little as he reads.

“Happy birthday Summer! Thankful to be your sister” Accompanied by a bunch of emojis stares at Mat, and his heart pounds once more.

He doesn’t really think about it when he clicks on the picture that’s tagged with Summer’s account, and clicks on it. The most recent picture is one of Summer from what looks like this morning.

She’s sitting up in her bed, dressed in a shirt that’s a few sizes too big, hair in a messy bun with some of those curls fallen out and framing her face. The clean and fresh look on her also slightly sleepy face has Mat taking in a slow breath, his eyes trying to commit everything to memory. Her eyes are closed as she smiles, one hand on her cheek bashfully, those beautiful, naturally plump, mauve pink lips stretching into a sleepy smile.

Damn her.

For all she got on his nerves, for all she irritated him, all the times she’d been a fucking pain in his ass, she still had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

There’s a cake in the photo, resting on her bed in front of her, and balloons next to her bedside. He spots Sabrina’s purse off to the side, figuring she’d surprised Summer and taken the picture.

“Cheers to 24! Thank you to @sabimaldonao for the birthday surprise. Love you always!”

Mat finds himself commenting “happy birthday curly” and then pressing “Follow,” followed by the quickest exit out of Instagram ever, like he’s about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Tito chooses that moment to decide he’s ready, and Mat screams like a little bitch when Tito says “Ready!”

It scares Tito, who yells in return, and then Mat chucks a couch pillow at him.

“Why did you throw that at me!”

“Why’d you sneak up on me!” Mat retorts, shooting up from the couch.

His palms are sweaty. Why were his palms sweaty?

Tito scowls at Mat. “Are you ready or not? I’m starving.”

Mat grumbles. “I’m not the one who took an hour to get ready, dickhead.”

As they head out to the bank of elevators, Mat pulls out his phone again, careful to expose the screen to Tito as he heads back into Instagram to see if Summer responded.

She didn’t. And she also didn’t follow him back yet.

It’s fine. Who cares? He reasons. It’s her birthday, you’re just being nice.

He checks again at least three times during dinner, and twice more after he heads home later that night.

Mat’s unreasonably irritated when there’s still nothing.

Who cares? He convinces himself. You don’t.

There were five years between Sabrina and Summer, and Summer felt the envy in each of them.

Never in a negative sense. And never because of Sabrina. Absolutely not.

Despite the childhood and teenage years (on both their parts) of them arguing and going through the typical sibling spats, Summer loved her sister more than anything in the world. She remembers being at Sabrina’s first pageant and thinking “my sister is prettier than all of these people.”

Sabrina had been a chubby child, but as she grew, she had shed all that weight through sports, extracurriculars, and was slim and beautiful and maintained the same weight and stature since she was sixteen.

Summer kept the baby fat as she grew, but not to Sabrina’s height, and while she felt puberty wasn’t completely unkind to her, it was clear puberty and her family genes favored Sabrina.

Her relatives showered Sabrina with praise. Always “Maganda ka.” You’re beautiful and “Wala kang kasing ganda!” No one’s prettier than you!

All Summer got was “Ang ganda ng ngiti mo.” You have such a beautiful smile.

Sabrina was everyone’s favorite. And that was okay, she was Summer’s favorite too.

Sabrina wasn’t oblivious or naive, she knew Summer had a tough time, that whenever their Lolo or Lola offered Sabrina seconds at dinner, they denied Summer seconds in the same breath telling her, “You eat anymore and you’ll be as big as a house!” Sabrina had stuck up for Summer many times, but it never really stopped happening to her.

People loved Sabrina.

They only liked Summer.

So yeah. She had her issues. But she also had her older sister to look up to, idolize, reasonably envy, and confide in.

Sabrina and Anders had gotten engaged last year after Summer finished her Master’s degree. The engagement, which, in Summer’s opinion, had been long overdue, had been a spectacle in itself, and now Sabrina and Anders had finally agreed to sit down and start planning, and their wedding was scheduled to be at the end of the summer.

They’d been living in their house in Bayport since Anders all but begged Sabrina to after they’d been dating about two years, and when they did, Sabrina made Anders swear to her that at least one of their five massive bedrooms would always be reserved for Summer (even though Summer lived in Garden City, less than forty five minutes away.)

Summer agreed to come over every other Saturday this summer to assist Sabrina with planning, and had stayed true to her word, even if it meant seeing more of Anders’ teammates.

Or teammate, to be specific.

Especially not with his recent social media activity.

She’d been shocked to say the least at his happy birthday message. Shock transformed into suspicion when she saw he even followed her on Instagram.

She didn’t say anything back. Didn’t return the follow. Why would she? They weren’t actually friends anyway.

Except, he’d started interacting, or trying to interact, with her. She’d posted a story with a poll for her friends, and when he voted on it (in her favor, though he didn’t know that), she remembered how she’d scrunched her nose in distaste. She posted a picture of her mom’s dog, a mangy little Scottish Terrier she and Sabrina had named “Angus” as teenagers, who had chewed up her Roku remote while dog-sitting him for her parents for the weekend.

Mat had reacted to it with a laughing emoji, and that also went ignored.

She made the mistake of posting another story of the particularly gnarly bruise on her forearm as it was healing, with a text over the picture that read “last time I try to be a daredevil” and Mat had responded to the story with a “next time don’t put yourself in danger while in the presence of idiots.”

Mat grinded on her nerves every chance he got, it seemed, and his insistence on his presence would certainly not help her current predicament.

Even if he may have been right.

After her ATV accident and being left at the hospital, she’d confronted Will and demanded to know why he didn’t come to check on her, or why he hadn’t called or texted to see if she was okay.

Deep down, Summer knew the answer, knew he didn’t really give a shit about her like he said he did, she just needed to hear it from his mouth. True to form, he’d come up with excuse after excuse, and she’d had enough, calling it quits and telling him she never wanted to see him again.

Was she upset she almost wasted a year of her life with him? Yes.

Was she upset that he didn’t seem to care about her when she was hurt? Yes.

Was she upset that he didn’t reach out after their breakup with apologies and roses?

Also yes.

It didn’t make sense, logically, she knew that. She didn’t want to be with him, sure, but no one had ever really fought for her before, fought to keep her, fought to win her back. And maybe she wanted that, just once, maybe she wanted to be wanted, lusted after, fought for, desired.

A picture of Sabrina from her Miss USA crowning hung from the wall as Summer sat in the computer chair of Sabrina and Anders’ joint office. Next to it, a picture of Anders on one knee, proposing, and next to that, a picture of Anders on the ice.

She thought of their relationship, of how Anders had worked every day to be worthy of her older sister, and immediately stopped, trying to focus her attention on the screen in front of her instead.

There was no use getting lost in her feelings.

She tries to focus on the information in front of her, about custom invitations and designs and price points, when the front door to Sabrina’s house opens, and a loud “Anders!” rings out.

Summer groans, shouting out “He’s outside, dipshit!”

Moments later, Mat’s annoyingly handsome face came into view as his body filled the doorway. “Oh, it is you. Your little witch’s cave too hot? Had to come to big sis’s to get away from your steaming cauldron?”

“Can you even spell ‘cauldron,’ Mathew?” She says, keeping her eyes on the laptop.

“Why are you here?” He fires back.

“It’s my sister’s house.”

“It’s my captain’s house.”

“Pretty sure it’s still my sister’s house.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to get back to?”

Summer could feel her control snap. “Listen, you little shit, I-”

“Can you two at least try to get along for one day?”

Mat jumps a little at Sabrina’s voice, whirling around with a fright, while Summer just rolls her eyes.

“He came in unannounced and bothered me.” Summer mutters, clicking on an invitation pattern that matches Sabrina’s wedding theme.

Sabrina sighed, and motioned with her head toward the backyard. “Anders is outside, he’s waiting for you.”

Mat nods once, glances back at Summer with a scowl, then saunters off.

Finding his captain next to his exercise equipment in his backyard, Mat throws down his bag and plops onto a bench, glaring at Anders.

Anders rolls his eyes. “Can you at least try to be nice to her? She’s going through something, you know.”

Mat scoffs. He thinks of Summer’s healing bruises, some yellow, some still green, but at least the cut on her forehead had disappeared for the most part. He also thinks of the picture of her healing bruise on her arm she’d posted on her Instagram story the week before. He doesn’t think he noticed it just now.

“Yeah,” Mat says after a beat too long. “Well she’s healing up fine to me from the looks of it.”

Anders gives him a strange look, but waives it away, shoving weights at Mat. “Whatever, let’s get started.

Mat has half a mind to push back, ask Anders what he was about to say, but he levels him with that Captainly stare, and Mat shuts up, commencing his workout.

Drastic measures are being taken so Summer doesn't get too lost in her own heartbreak.

Well, not heartbreak, maybe lack of it.

She’d gone from wishing that Will had fought for her to actually being grateful that he hadn’t, then regretful that she didn’t actually feel any sorrow for leaving him behind.

Summer felt like she should be sad. But she wasn’t. And that somehow managed to make everything worse.

She feels like she’s pouting, so she keeps drinking in the hopes that none of her friends notice.

She especially keeps her eyes away from the scene near her that’s slowly awakening the little green monster inside, choosing to look around the club at literally anyone and anything else except Mat.

She goes so far as to make sure to volunteer herself anytime someone is going to the bathroom to tag along so nothing happens, and volunteer to go grab drinks with whoever is buying the next round.

It’s a lot, but she was getting away with it.

Or so she thought.

“What is up with you tonight?”

She narrows her eyes at Emma, because Emma already knows the answer, but is choosing to ask her in front of everyone anyway to draw their attention.

“Nothing.” Summer says earnestly, grabbing her margarita and taking a long sip from her straw.

“You are drinking a lot more tonight.” Tito offers, looking at the drink in her hand.

Summer frowns. “It’s a birthday party, isn’t that the point?”

Mat’s birthday party, to be specific. She doesn’t think she was explicitly invited, but didn’t protest when Sabrina picked her up and brought her to Tito and Emma’s to get ready together.

“Yeah, but you usually don’t party as hard. Everything okay?” Tito asks again. Emma’s staring a hole into the side of Summer’s face, and she ignores her.

Nodding, Summer takes another sip. “Fine.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a boy would it?” Tito tries, the corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. Summer misses the glance he does between her and Mat, thinking instead that he’s talking about Will.

She shakes her head, pasting on a cordial smile. “Nope. No boy drama here.”

“Great!” Emma exclaims. She untangles herself from her fiance’s hold then exits the booth, grabs Summer’s drink and places it on the table before guiding Summer to the dance floor.

Only a few feet away, Mat dances with some leggy brunette, his hands on her waist, and Summer fights off a scowl, green, green, green creeping through her veins, and she shoves the feeling away.

Who gives a fuck what he’s doing? She questions herself before facing Emma.

“What are you doing?” She asks as Emma begins to dance.

“Helping you.” She supplies sweetly. “I didn’t convince you to wear this dress for nothing, Sum. C’mon, let’s dance and make him your stupid ex boyfriend regret that he exists.”

Caving, Summer starts to dance, swaying her hips along to the beat and eventually smiling at Emma for the distraction.

Okay, so maybe Emma gets to be right about this.

As self conscious as she was about the dress before, it’s clearly working, as guys start to approach from all sides as the song continues. They stay away from Emma, the big diamond on her left hand a clear “stay away,” but some try to get close to Summer.

One does - a tall, buff, and devilishly handsome one - and as he taps Summer’s shoulder, she can see Tito coming in to join Emma.

“Wanna dance?” He says, flashing a flirty smile, and Summer nods, placing her hand in his outstretched one.

He gives her a twirl, pressing her back against his front as he pulls her close, but not too close, just enough to toe the line, and they start to move together, his hands on her hips. He leans close, the deep timber in his voice saying “I’m Loren, what’s your name beautiful?”

“Summer,” she says easily. “Nice to meet you.”

Loren smiles, his blonde hair brushing her face a little as he pulls back. “The pleasure’s definitely mine.” She thinks she hears him say.

Out of the corner of her eye, as Tito and Emma dance together, she sees Emma’s kilowatt smile and thumbs up, and the tequila in Summer’s drink suddenly begins to run quickly through her veins, causing her to flash a wicked smile back at Emma.

Leaning her head back against Loren’s shoulder, she can feel the stray curls slipping from ponytail begin to stick to her face as she heats up from the inside, and rests her hands on top of his, following his lead. Song after song blends together as she sways in Loren’s hold, and as another one begins, he chuckles. “I could go all night long with you.”

Summer can feel flames creep up her cheeks and into her hairline, catching Loren’s drift in more ways than one. “I’d like to see you try.” She flirts back.

He bends lower, lips ghosting her cheek when he says “Let’s go grab a water.”

She nods, letting him take her hand in his as he pulls her toward the bar. She signals a thumbs up to Emma and then to Sabrina as they pass, letting them know she’s okay, and Sabrina nods once, but still narrows her eyes at Loren anyway, her protectiveness never wavering.

Summer is only slightly shocked when they bypass the bar altogether, and Loren crowds her into the hallway near the bathrooms. Loren presses her against the wall with his body, placing his arms against it on either side of her head before he dips down, lips brushing hers as he says “I’ve had my eyes on you all night.”

Heat pools in her belly, and she tilts her head up slightly. “Have you now?”

He nods, presses a soft kiss to her lips, testing the waters. “Been thinking about what you might taste like.”

“Well keep thinking.”

The angry voice has both Summer and Loren snapping their heads toward the start of the hallway, where Mat stands, hands balled into fists as he glowers at Loren.

Loren, seemingly undeterred, doesn’t back up out of Summer’s space. “Can we help you?”

Mat storms over, cutting between them and forcibly pushing Loren away. Loren’s got a couple of inches on Mat, but Mat’s definitely stronger. “I suggest you walk away.”

“Is she your girlfriend or something?” Loren asks, then smirks. “Doesn’t seem like she wants to be.”

“She won’t be yours, that’s for sure.” Mat spits.

Summer, indignant, steps forward, pulling Mat’s shoulder. She was getting really tired of this pissing contest, really fast.

“Mat, knock it off.” She demands. “Just go away.”

He turns to look at her then, and Summer takes a step back when she sees the fire in his eyes, all anger and hatred. “You seriously want to go home with this loser?”

“She doesn’t want to go home with you.” Loren pipes up, and that seems to snap the last bit of restraint Mat had, because the next thing Summer knows, Mat’s turning around as fast as lighting and punching Loren across the face. Loren stumbles back just a second, then charges forward, and Summer finds herself shouting Mat’s name, something sick making her stomach churn.

She’s not stupid enough to try to intervene between two people who are stronger and bigger than her, but she can’t let this continue, so she calls for Tito, calls for Anders, voice rough and desperate, and they appear with Marty in tow, which, Summer realizes, is bound to make the situation slightly worse.

Emma, Sabrina, and Sydney are there as well, pulling Summer down the hall with them and away as the men try to break up the scuffle.

“Are you okay?” Sabrina demands. “Did he hurt you?”

Summer’s eyebrows bunch in confusion. “What? No. Mat didn’t do anything.”

Sabrina frowns. “I meant that guy you were with.”

Duh. Summer thinks lamely. “Oh, no, he didn’t. He barely even kissed me, but it was mutual.”

Her older sister searches her face for…something, what, Summer isn’t sure, but she seems to find it, and nods, pushing her toward Emma and Sydney. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“What about the guys? Mat’s party? Don’t do this on my account. I’m fine, I swear.”

“We’re not,” Sydney reassures Summer, rubbing her arm gently as they pile into Sydney’s SUV parked near the curb. “We’ll finish the celebration somewhere else.”

“What about the guys?” She asks.

“They’ll take my car.” Sabrina says. “I gave Anders the key.”

Summer nods, but suddenly doesn’t feel like she’d be welcome at wherever that ‘somewhere else’ is, so she asks to go home instead.

The girls exchange worried looks, but agree, and they head toward Summer’s apartment instead.

Mat saunters over to where Summer stood in front of the island of the outdoor bar in Anders and Sabrina’s backyard. It was another night, another get together, and the warm air of the official start to the summer season wrapped everyone in a soft embrace.

He’d been meaning to approach Summer, meaning to apologize for his actions at the club with that punk. He didn’t feel he’d been unreasonable, but everyone else had reminded him that no matter his intentions, his actions said differently, and so, here he was.

And if the fact that Summer didn’t show up at Tito’s place when they all managed to reconvene said more than anything he felt his soul could bear.

Mat looked her over as she approached, taking full stock of her beauty. Her long curls in a ponytail secured with a scrunchie trailed down the open back of her red dress. From his perspective behind her as he approached, it had slightly puffy short sleeves, and crossed at the lower back, and the sight of her bare skin let him know she probably wasn’t wearing a bra.

Fuck.

He eyes the white strappy heels on her feet and suddenly felt the urgent need to know what they would feel like digging into his back.

Mat steels himself, and with a beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, he extends the glass of wine toward Summer with a mumbled “Truce” as he approaches.

She turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised at the glass. “I’m sorry?”

“Truce.” He repeats, a little louder. “I’m sorry for the other night.”

“The other night?” She echoes, and Mat tries not to scowl.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He says, then winces, placing both his beer and her glass of wine down on the countertop. “The other night at the club, when I punched that guy you were gonna hook up with.”

“Loren?” Summer asks, genuine shock in her voice.

Mat could feel the flames of anger lick at him from the inside, and he tried so desperately to push it down.

“I don’t care what his name is.” There was more venom in his voice than he’d wanted to be. But it was true, he didn’t. He didn’t care about or want to hear about any second rate guy you hung around.

Because it’s not you? The devil on his shoulder taunted.

Fuck off.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.” He tries again. “I wasn’t trying to start anything. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

“Mat,” she says, soft. “If anything, I should be sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

“You didn’t.” He promises, “I did by doing that. But you didn’t ruin anything. And I’m sorry I acted out.”

“Oh, well, thank you.”

Mat pauses. “So you forgive me? You don’t hate me?”

“I do.”

Mat stares at her, weighing her non answer of an answer. “You do?”

“I do,” she says, nodding, then clarifies with a wicked gleam. “Hate you.”

Mat sours, grabbing his beer and taking a large swing before putting it back down. “Right back at ya, princess.”

She rolls her eyes, then pauses, like she’s thinking. It’s another beat before she tells Mat, “I didn’t want to hook up with him, you know.”

His blood begins to boil again. “I don’t know, you were dancing on that punk like you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Because I don’t.” She says simply.

A record scratching screams in his head, and he rounds on her. “What?”

“I said, I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

When he just stares at her, trying to come to terms with what she just said, she rolls her eyes and takes a step back from him. “Oh for god's sake Mathew, I broke up with him. So shut the fuck up about it already.” She spits, turning on her heels and leaving him in the wake of her revelation.

His heart beat in his chest, something sick and wicked making him follow Summer into Anders’ house as she sauntered away ahead of him. At the sound of the sliding door closing behind him, he half expected Summer to turn around and look at him, but she didn’t, instead continuing to stalk toward the guest room down the hall.

Mat hurried his steps, catching up with her before grabbing her hand, turning her around and pushing her into the open hall closet, then shutting the door closed and locking it behind him. He flipped on the light, soul brightening at the sight of her beautiful face and then dimming at the frown on it.

“What the fuck, Mathew?” she spit.

“You broke up with him?” He demands.

She rolled her eyes, and Mat felt his palm aching to spank her ass for it. “Yes, that’s what I said. We broke up. Did you need further clarification? I figured all of your past failed relationships would-”

“When?” He cut her off, taking a step closer to her. Summer took one back, nearly backing into the shelf of extra linens behind her.

“Two weeks ago.” She deadpans, crossing her arms over her chest, inadvertently drawing his attention to them as her words sunk in.

Two weeks. Two weeks too long.

“Two weeks ago?” He echoes in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her eyebrows raise at him in equal disbelief as she says “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You know why.” He hisses.

Another roll of her eyes followed by an irritated sigh. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

Her challenge hangs in the air, and he feels himself pause for one, two, three seconds before…

Fuck it.

“God damn you.” Mat swears, reaching under her dress, finding her hip, wrapping his fist around the lace fabric of her underwear there, and tugs.

He tugs once, strong and quick, and the flimsy thing snaps, and Summer lets out an indignant squeak as he pulls the ruined fabric from under her dress, sticking it in his pocket.

“Mat-” she says, and he surges forward to kiss her, to take her mouth and shut her up because if she said his name like that again he’d come before he was even inside her. His hands cup the sides of her face as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, gently running his tongue over it before letting it slip between his teeth and pulling. When she moans again, Mat nearly bursts at the seams.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises her, continuing to taste the berries on her lips as he let his hands slide up, let his hands go up to the scrunchie holding her beautiful curls in its ponytail and pulling, running his fingers through her hair as it cascades down, letting her scrunchie rest on his wrist.

The need for Summer built and built and built in his body, and all his control and restraint snapped as she moaned.

For all she got on his nerves, for all she irritated him, all the times she’d been a fucking pain in his ass, she still had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And she was finally under his touch.

Fucking finally.

He grips her hair at the base of her neck in his fist, uses it and pulls her head back so he can lick deeper into her insolent little mouth. He flips them as he goes, walking her backwards, pressing her into the locked door of the hall closet and covering her mouth with one of his hands, his other making its way back under her dress.

Mat parts her with his fingers, drawing her wetness as if it answered only to him - and he would make it answer to him - and she made this broken sound under his palm that had him resting his forehead against hers as he presses his body into her, and presses her further into the door.

“If you keep that shit up, making all those pretty noises, I’m not gonna last.” He breathes, removing his hand from her mouth only to kiss her again, to taste and swallow her moans as she made them now. He brought his now free hand down to her hip to keep her still, squeezing as the fingers against her pussy drew her wetness to her clit, where Mat began to rub gently.

“Do you want to come for me?” He asks, lips brushing against Summer’s as he speaks.

She nods, and he kisses her again, licking into her mouth, continuing to rub her in slow, firm circles.

“On my fingers?” Mat breathes. “Or on my cock?”

Before she can answer, he slips a finger inside, and feels his cock throb when it’s met with slick, tight, silken heat. She squeezes his finger as he begins to slowly pump, and with each push inside, it feels like her body’s trying to draw him in further, begging for more, more, please more.

He suddenly realizes with an awful sense of clarity that they won’t have enough time, enough privacy for him to be able to do everything he’d hoped to with her, and definitely not tonight. So he decides for them both, saying “My fingers, then,” when she doesn’t manage to answer him the more he curls his finger inside her.

Carefully, he adds another, feels her squeeze down and watches her eyes roll back in delight, a faint blush rising on her caramel skin. His hand that was on her hip comes out from under the skirt of her dress, only to play at the neckline of her dress, then tug it down, freeing her breasts, and Mat wastes no time in bending his head down and sucking a dusky nipple into his mouth, tongue running over her flesh greedily as he licked and lapped and sucked.

“Oh!” Summer cries out, her hands flying to his hair, gripping the strands between her fingers as her hips start to wind, riding his hand. He brings his thumb into the fray, rubbing circles as he fingers her, and at the squeeze of her cunt, he groans.

He switches to her other nipple, giving it the same attention as he murmured “Come for me, honey. Want you to come for me. Need it. Need you.”

“Yes!” Summer whines, breath coming out in short punches.

“Need you, need you, need you” he pleads against her lips, not afraid or caring that he was about two seconds away from basically begging.

Mat’s eyes flutter shut before he opens them again, deciding this moment was too good to pass up, that he’d waited too long for this to not look at Summer’s face as she came.

His eyes trailed up and his cock throbbed again.

Her eyes are screwed shut, tears trailing those beautiful cheeks as her head is thrown back, hair falling in beautiful ribbon curls over her shoulders, covering the tops of her breasts, running down her back as she moves her perfect body against his, those curves sending him into a trance as she winds her hips on his fingers.

Needy, and greedy, he slips a third finger inside of her, moaning as she suffocates them, his thumb rubbing her once, twice, three times before her pussy locks his fingers in a vice grip as she comes, the wet sounds echoing around them as Mat continues his assault.

He surges up, kissing her again to swallow her cries, his cock throbbing painfully when Summer begins to suck on his tongue, anchoring herself as her orgasm rides through her.

When she’s had enough, she reaches down, circling his wrist with her hand and squeezing firmly, signaling for him to stop. He does, slowing his ministrations before carefully pulling out of her a digit at a time, and when his fingers were free, he wastes no time before bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking a finger between his lips.

Summer watches with heavy lidded eyes as he tastes her, and he makes sure to suck it clean before he brings his other two fingers to her lips. Obediently, and compliant by orgasm, she sucks his fingers eagerly, tasting herself, and it takes Mat everything in him not to come in his pants at the sight.

He withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his mouth, moaning at the taste of her on her tongue, and dirty fantasies start to play in his head.

Mat wants to be in a bed with her, touching, hands wandering all over, exchanging sloppy kisses for hours before he gets her on her knees, spits in her mouth, tongue her down then spit in it again before wrapping her hair in his grip, holding her chin as her messy lips parts, guiding it to his cock, stuffing himself down her throat -

They could do that. They could do that right now. All he had to do was get her out of this closet and down the hall to the guest room she was staying in and -

The sliding door of the kitchen opens loudly, someone mills about, and then the door closes again, its loud click reminding them of their limited time frame, lack of privacy, and obvious company.

Mat should have backed away, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept kissing Summer until their slow, languid kisses turned into soft pecks, and she pushed gently at his chest until he was at arm's length.

The distance, however short, made his blood run cold.

“We should - I should go.” Summer says. Her voice was hoarse, lips red from his love, and her body called to his again.

Her hair draped around her like a veil, her breasts still bared to him, nipples shiny from his mouth, and her dress slightly bunched up to the tops of her thighs, Summer looked every bit as sexy to him as the day he met her, only now, there was something about the glow of her skin that made it scream “mine” in Mat’s eyes.

“You should go back outside.” She continues when he says nothing. “They’ll be wondering where we are. And if whoever that was tells everyone else they didn’t hear us yelling at each other, they’ll be suspicious. Especially Sabrina and Anders.”

“Summer, we should -”

“I’ll go first. Then you go. You can say you had to go out front for some air. I’ll go to my room.”

He frowns, hard cock softening as reality sinks in.

She’s trying to run from you. The devil on his shoulder whispered. Don’t let her.

Too late.

Without another word, Summer adjusted her clothes, covering herself up and smoothing down her hair before she flipped the lock, opened the door, and sauntered off, leaving Mat standing there as his brain fought past the fog of desire and tried desperately to catch up.

When it did, he realized that despite feeling like he just took four steps forward with Summer, she shoved him back eight, and he didn’t know how to cross back over that distance without admitting all the things he kept buried inside.

He never actually hated her. Not really. She pushed and he pushed back - it’s how they’d always been.

But if Summer decided to pull instead of push one day, Mat was certain he’d go willingly, eagerly into her arms. And hadn’t he just done that?

He debates for a second that he might just disobey her, might go after her and finish what they started, and then wonders if it would be better if he snuck into the bathroom and jacked off.

He does neither of those things. Instead, he walks back out to join his teammates, friends, and their significant others in the backyard, trying to ignore the fact that he just had the girl of his dreams in his arms, and let her walk away.

So…that had happened.

Summer currently lay on her back, staring at her bedroom ceiling.

She’d been thankful that Sabrina didn’t think to ask twice when she’d said she’d be staying at her apartment “doing chores” instead of heading to Sabrina’s like normal. It was technically a Saturday where she’s supposed to be helping with wedding planning, but she didn’t want to risk it.

It being Mat undoubtedly showing up at their house and forcing Summer to confront her new apparent reality.

It had been a week since their little almost-sexcapade in Sabrina’s hall closet, and she couldn’t shake the memory of it no matter how hard she tried.

(If you could count reacquainting herself with her dildo and pretending it was Mat as trying.)

She’d been trying to get the feeling of him out of her mind, but she couldn’t. It was no use. Every time she closed her eyes, she could conjure the image of him as he kissed her, as he fingered her within an inch of her life, the way his eyes tracked her movements as she sucked herself off of his fingers before he’d claimed her mouth.

He’d kissed her, touched her, tasted her like he owned her, and Summer wasn’t sure if she liked it and should be wanting more, or if she should be concerned that she’d let him do any of that to her in the first place.

Of course Mat was handsome. She wasn’t blind.

It was just that…well, she thought he hated her.

Summer was under the impression that all of their back and forth had been a clear indication that he couldn’t stand her, wanted nothing to do with her, and thought of her the same way most men did.

Uninteresting. Not as pretty. Not worth it.

It made her confused. Made her start to rethink everything she thought she knew about him.

The night she got back from Sabrina’s after he’d taken her into the closet, she’d grabbed her phone, opened up Instagram, and looked through all of his activity. The comments, the reactions, all of it. While he may not have interacted with all of her stories, he’d watched them, every single one, and had to wonder…

Was that Mat…flirting? Or trying to?

No. No way. It couldn’t have been. She’d seen Mat flirt with countless women over the years she’d known him. What he did was not flirting.

Or…was it?

Summer let out another groan, flopping onto her stomach and deciding hiding herself away in her apartment and trying to figure this out on her own was going to be no use.

She got up, changing into a babydoll dress - to hell with pants - grabbing her purse and car keys to head to Buttercooky Bakery and Cafe.

Once she got there, she ordered her usual array of pastries and had them boxed up, so she could bring them to Sabrina’s house. If her sister decided to ask, Summer would just lie and say she finished up her chores early.

The only way to stop thinking about Mat was to fill her brain to capacity with something else, anything else.

Wedding planning should do the trick.

The team was playing Kan Jam in Anders’ back yard while Sabrina and the other significant others lounged inside.

Mat, usually one of the first ones to jump in and play, had been working out with Josh and Casey instead, trying desperately to focus on anything but the fact that the last time he’d set foot in this house, nearly a week ago, he’d defiled his captain’s future sister in law.

Well, partially defiled.

Still.

Summer’s nearly naked body plagued his mind every waking second of his day, and the only way he seemed to be able to get rid of it was when he needed to focus on something else.

Like right now - focusing on trying not to drop two hundred and fifty pounds of barbells on his chest as he bench pressed.

He keeps the count in his head, trying to focus on his breathing, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, when Josh tapped his shoulder from his spotter’s position, and Mat pushed up, allowing Josh to take the bar from him and set it back in place. Mat sat up carefully, accepting his water bottle from Casey before looking at Josh.

Josh wasn’t paying attention though, instead watching his wife through the open sliding door toward Sabrina and Anders’ kitchen, where Summer had apparently just arrived, a pastry box in tow and a small smile for her older sister.

Mat’s heart runs head first into his ribcage.

He feels the need in his body to go to her and pushes it down, instead tapping Josh on the side and gesturing toward the bench Mat was still sitting on. “Your turn, big guy.”

It was technically Casey’s turn to spot, but Mat took over, needing the distraction so he didn’t turn around to look at Summer, no matter how much he wanted to.

Later, when they finished their workout, and the rest of the guys finished their game of Kan Jam, they all took to the pool. Some of the significant others had come out to join them, swimming with the others, and when Mat didn’t spot Summer, he guessed that she’d probably just swung by to drop off pastries and then leave.

He feels it’s safe, so he grabs his bag and heads into the house, showering quickly in the guest bath down in the basement.

After he gets dressed and puts his shit away in his bag, he heads back up the stairs, fully intending to head to the backyard when he hears soft music, and he knows in his soul it’s Summer.

He follows the sound, trailing down the hallway that leads to the guest bedroom Anders and Sabrina designated as hers, not surprised to find her laying on the bed while soft music streams from the record player in the corner of the room.

She’s wearing a dress, her and her fucking dresses, hair fanned out around her on the covers, eyes open and staring at the ceiling while her mouth moves along silently to the words of the song.

Mat can feel a smart remark creeping up his throat - the usual way they greet each other - before he tamps it down, setting his bag down on the floor before he steps into the room, then shuts her bedroom door behind him softly, flicking the lock.

“Hi.” He says softly, trying not to startle her.

She turns her head to the side, expression seemingly blank as she stares at him. “Hi.”

God.

Mat swears he melts right there and then.

Her voice. All she’d said was a simple “hi” but it rang like tinkling bells in his head and he feels his hands twitch at his sides.

“Got a staring problem, thirteen?” She quips, but it doesn’t hold its usual attitude. There’s a cheeky smile that slowly breaks onto her face, and he finds himself moving forward, placing one knee on the bed.

To his surprise, she leans up, pushing up on her hands to sit up as he gets onto the bed on both knees.

She looks up at him, big brown eyes filled with expectation, and Mat, he can’t help it, he gives in.

“Been thinking about you.” He says, honestly, bringing his hands up to her face, brushing away some of the curls before just holding her cheeks in his palms.

She nods. “Me too.”

And that…that’s going to have to be enough.

He bends down, does it slowly enough to give Summer the room she needs to bail, to tell him “thanks for the orgasm!” and just leaves, reminding him that this isn’t what they do.

But she doesn’t.

She meets him halfway, her lips softly meeting his, hands coming up to rest on his forearms. It’s slow, languid, like honey dripping, and Mat revels in it. Loves the way that she lets him lead her as they kiss, lets him take control and take what he needs, what he wants from her with every movement of his lips, just take, take, take…

Mat feels her hands slowly trail down his arms, down his sides before she finds the hem of his shirt and dips her hands under it. They settle on his abdomen, and she runs her hands up and down before Mat feels her nails gently scratch down, and he shivers, pushing forward into her touch just a little more.

“Yeah?” She murmurs between kisses. Mat nods, and she does it again, digging her fingers in a little more that causes Mat to hiss a little, nipping her bottom lip between his teeth.

“Love your mouth.” He tells her, seizing it in another searing kiss that turns filthy the minute Summer lets her hands trail down his abdomen again and settles on the waistband of his sweats.

“My mouth?” She asks, voice teasing as her fingers start to dip below, and he drops one of his hands from her face to trap both her wrists in one grip, the other hand dropping to the hollow of her throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds her there, holds her gaze in his as his breathing quickens.

“Yes.” He answers. “Your insolent little mouth.”

A wicked gleam crosses her brown eyes, and Mat can feel her testing his limits - something she clearly doesn’t forget how to do. She hums, blinking a little in a way that has Mat tracking the slow movement of her eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks. He finds himself bending to kiss them, pressing his lips to one cheek, then the other, and drops both hands to help her wind her arms around him as he finally comes down on top of her.

She opens her legs to welcome his body between them, and he fits there easily, just as he’d hoped he would. She’s all soft - soft skin, soft embrace - as he brings his arms next to her, cradling her head in his hands so he can tangle his fingers in her hair, grip it tight to tilt her head back.

Just as he had before, the second her mouth opens to him as he starts to kiss her, he claims it, slipping his tongue between her lips, trying to gauge how far she’ll let him take this, take this moment, how far she’ll let him play with her.

He pulls back a little, figures he might be swinging for the fences, but he won’t know unless he tries.

Summer’s panting as she stares at him, waiting for him.

“Open your mouth.” He says. His voice is gentle, but it’s a command all the same.

Mat watches and feels his cock go rock solid when Summer’s eyes glaze over and she smiles slowly, syrupy, wicked, and then she slowly opens her mouth, tongue sticking out and all.

Holy fucking shit.

Mat can’t breathe. He purses his lips, watches as his spit trails from his mouth into hers, onto her tongue, and then that beautiful tongue disappears as her mouth closes. He watches her swallow, and then the little fucking devil has the nerve to say “Thank you.”

He can’t contain himself anymore. Anything in him that demanded they take this moment slow fucking vaporizes when he surges forward again, fist tightening in her hair as he holds her face to his in a dirty, sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

He starts to move his hips, grinding into the warm, familiar heat between the apex of her thighs, those beautiful legs bracketing his sides, and her hands travel to his ass, squeezing his cheeks while pulling him closer to her, tilting her hips up to meet his thrusts.

Christ.

He hadn’t done this in…well…ever. He’d never been fully clothed, grinding desperately against a girl, about ten seconds from coming in his pants from kissing and spit play and

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Mat demands against her mouth, and he trails his kisses to the side, kissing the corner of her mouth, her chin, cheek, jaw, and he brings his lips to her neck, leaving slow kisses, gentle kisses that quickly turn to nips when she lines them up, his cock right where she must need him to be, and moves her hips up and down, guiding their friction.

He sucks the skin of her neck in his mouth hard, laving it with his tongue while she whines beneath him. One of her hands flies up to cup the back of his head, her fingers combing between the strands and gripping it, the other digging her nails into his ass cheek with a vice grip.

“Take what you need.” Mat says against her neck. “Take it, take it, take it…”

She nods furiously, and Mat bends his head, sucking another mark into her neck, freeing one hand from her curls and bringing it to her breasts, tugging the neckline of her dress down and gripping one of her breasts in his hand, pinching her nipple between his fingers.

Summer cries out, and Mat brings his lips back to hers to swallow it, lets her kiss him messily before he brings his hands to her hips, taking over, guiding them and giving her what she needs.

He’s learned her rhythm at this point, and had been paying attention in the back of his mind at her breaths, her movements, where she needed him to be and what made her get closer and closer to that beautiful orgasm.

“I’ve got you, beautiful.” He promises. “I’ve got you.”

“Need more.” Summer pleads, trailing her hand between them. Mat tracks her hand as it goes, watches it dip down and under the hem of her dress to her black lace panties that have been moved to the side in their grinding.

His hips stutter slightly at the sight of her bare pussy almost fully exposed to him. The mauve of the lips of her mouth match the mauve of the lips of her pussy, her pussy which is shining with the wetness of her arousal. He’d had it wrapped around his fingers, knew how good it felt, but at the minute, he demanded to know how good it tasted.

Mat began to rise up on his arms, fully intended to scoot down the bed and throw those beautiful caramel thighs over his shoulder and drink his fill, but Summer caught him, pulled his face down to hers with a shake of her head. “Need you now.” She pleads, kissing him again. “Please.”

There was a part of him that went to protest, but then her hand dipped beneath his waistband and wrapped around his cock, and Mat felt a groan leave his mouth as he settled his body atop hers once more.

“Please.” She says again, urging him to start moving. It took him a second, but he found the rhythm she needed.

His cock, freed from his pants that he’d shoved around his thighs, sliding up and down against her bare pussy, fucking up into the grip of her hands while they kissed, sloppy, messy, desperate.

Summer was moaning into his mouth now, his name a prayer on her lips between kisses, and Mat felt it, felt the way her body began to seize, began to shake and tremble and he felt like he could cry with relief.

“Please baby.” He begs. “Come for me. Wanna see you come for me again.”

She cried out, tears springing from her eyes and trailing down her cheeks. The devil inside him rose up in Mat and he leaned down a little more, licking her tears from her skin. It must have spoken to her devil, because then she gripped his chin in her hand and kissed him, her tongue seeking his to taste her tears.

“You’re going to fucking kill me.” He murmurs, and it makes Summer laugh before she moans again, desperate as her hips work faster, climbing closer and closer to her orgasm.

Mat focuses on the softness of her hand, the wetness of her pussy he can feel against him and his eyes screw shut. “Please Summer, please, I need you to -”

“Yes Mat,” she says, “Yes yes yes yes yes…”

Her hips move and move and move, and when she begins to come, begins to shake under his body, he pushes forward into her hand the moment her hips cant up, and instead of gliding against her pussy when she brings her hips back down, the head of his dick catches against her entrance, and she pushes him inside, bare cock to her bare pussy, he's inside, and it sends Mat careening over the edge of a cliff and into his own orgasm full force.

Summer’s hand disappears from between them as Mat drops the full weight of his body on hers, his hands on her hips as he pumps inside her, coming and emptying his load into her awaiting cunt.

“Oh my god,” she moans out, hands circling around his neck as she winds her hips, riding out their orgasms together.

It’s not enough. The squeeze of her pussy, the wetness from her orgasm dripping down his cock and onto his balls, the way her body seems to invite him deeper inside of her.

Mat continues his assault, pounding his hips and placing his hands on the backs of her thighs, opening her up for him so he can fuck her deeper. His cock is sensitive, but he can feel the need, can feel that her little fucking stunt wasn’t enough, that he still has more to give her.

“You’re a goddamn maniac.” He curses, watching his dick tunnel in and out of her. “A goddamn nightmare.”

Summer cries out his name, and his eyes flash up to hers, capturing her gaze. “Please,” she begs sweetly, and he has half a mind to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until she tells him “thank you” again.

She’s a fucking demoness. The devil on his shoulder praises. She’d let you do it.

“Open your fucking mouth.” He says instead, says again. She does as he asks, no slow preamble about it, and he spits into her awaiting mouth, kissing her before she can close it. He brings one hand from her thigh to rest on her throat in warning, pulling back to say “Now swallow it, you fucking brat.”

She does, opening her mouth to show him, sticking her tongue out. He sucks it into his mouth before kissing her again, squeezing her throat when he says “Good fucking girl.”

He pushes up, placing his hand back on her thigh as he continues to fuck into her, chasing his second orgasm.

It comes when Summer does, for the second time, without warning as she squeezes down on him, her body pulsing and legs shaking beneath his touch. Mat feels her arousal drip down him again and he’s coming with a long groan, pressing deep inside of Summer.

He drops down again, pressing kisses to her neck, her cheek, working his way back to her lips where she meets him eagerly, and he lets her thighs go, her legs immediately wrapping around him and making it clear she doesn’t want him to leave anytime soon.

As if he fucking could. As if he wanted to. Nothing could take him away from her now.

“Gonna roll us on our side, okay?” He says, voice a little hoarse. Summer nods, moving with him as he goes. He hikes up the leg that’s on top of him a little higher, making it easier for him to remain inside her.

As his hands creep under her dress and trail up the soft, round slope of her belly, Mat smiles when Summer giggles a little, clearly ticklish.

They stare at one another, smiles in their eyes.

Holy shit.

Had he hoped for another moment like this with Summer? Of course! Did he think it’d happen today? No.

Had he hoped for it? Still yes.

Eventually, he does pull out, and they trail into the bathroom in Summer’s room to clean up a little bit. When they’re done, he follows her back out to her room and they resume their position laying on their sides, legs tangled together as they stare at one another.

“Don’t run away.” He finds himself saying, knows there’s a ‘please’ in there he’s not saying, but one she can certainly hear.

She shakes her head, reaching out with her fingers to brush his lips. “I won’t.” She promises, watches as Mat takes her fingers and kisses the tips of each one before bringing it to rest on his chest.

Part of him is happy. Happy and sated. The other is mildly alarmed that he had the balls to fuck Summer, his captain’s future younger sister in law, in his captain’s house, less than a week after he fingered her in the hall closet of the same house.

Men had been castrated over a lot less.

“What does this mean?” Summer asks, hesitation in her tone.

It should scare Mat. Questions like that usually do, but with Summer, it doesn’t.

He shrugs. “It means I might actually like you a little bit, you fucking brat.”

There’s a pause, and Mat chances a look at her to see if she’s taken it the wrong way, but she merely blinks at him, and then laughs, laughs light and loud and Mat’s laughing along with her, their laughter filling their bellies and the room until there’s happy tears leaking from Summer’s eyes.

“I think I can live with that.” She finally says. The expression on her face reads satisfaction, and he thinks he’d do anything she wanted if it meant he could keep that look on her face.

He liked knowing he put it there in the first place.

They fell into a comfortable silence, letting the record player continue crooning whatever vinyl Summer had put on before he’d come in here and…well…taken her for himself.

Mat watched Summer’s beautiful face closely, watched her breathing even out, and felt like he could fall asleep right here, tangled together with her in the soft glow of her room.

That is, until incessant knocking rained down on her door, and Sabrina’s indignant voice rang out.

“Mat Barzal! You’d better explain why you’ve locked yourself in my sister’s room!”

More thunderous knocking, and Mat reaches out, securing Summer and relaxing her when it makes her wince.

“I know you’re in there!” Sabrina exclaims. “Your bag is in the hall, you fucking asshole!”

“You’d better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Anders calls out next, and they can’t help it.

Summer and Mat burst out laughing again.

“Is it just sex then? Or is there more?” Sabrina asks Summer, hours later. The sun’s been gone and there’s a fire going in their pit. They’re laying on the lounge chairs by the pool. The rest of the crowd still lingers, some in the hot tub near the edge of the yard, others coming in and out of the house.

“I don’t know,” Summer says honestly. “That’s the…second? Technically second, time we’ve done it.”

“Does the sex make you hate him less?

“I mean, the sex doesn’t hurt.”

Sabrina laughs at that, and as it dies down, considers her sister for a second.

It makes Summer uncomfortable, so she lets out a small nervous laugh, asking “What?”

Sabrina shakes her head a little. “I just…I feel like I partially expected this, but I also didn’t, but it makes sense. I think you’d be good together.”

Summer shrugs, aloof. “Maybe. Who knows? We’re just…hanging out.” That’s technically half true. All they’d done so far was…well, kind of fuck. And then fuck.

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” Sabrina teases, then reaches out, grabbing Summer’s hand and squeezing. “I’m just kidding. I mean it. If you’re cool with…whatever it is you two are doing, then I support you. But just remember it doesn’t mean I won’t stop looking out for you.”

“I know,” Summer promises, then looks across the yard to find Anders and Mat engaged in what looks to be a heated conversation, and Summer can only guess it’s similar to the one she and Sabrina just had.

Anders levels Mat with a Captainly look. “I’m telling you not to take this risk. This whole ‘I hate you but now I like you’ risk. And especially not with Summer.”

Mat scoffs, spotting her watching him from across the yard and shoots her a shit eating grin, wiggling his fingers in a small, hopefully reassuring wave. It seems to work, and Summer goes back to speaking to Sabrina.

He rounds on his captain, eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, okay? I know she’s gonna be your sister in law or whatever, but you don’t have anything to worry about. What we’re doing is casual. It’s a mutually beneficial transactional relationship.”

At least, he thinks it is. They hadn’t technically addressed that.

His captain narrows his gaze. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

“Anders-”

“I mean it, Mat. If you’re not serious about her, leave her alone. You saw the shit she went through with Will. I’m not saying you’re anything like him, but she can’t go through that again. And whether you want to admit it or not, there’s something between the two of you, and if it goes wrong, it’s going to be really, really bad.”

“It won’t.” Mat insists.

Even as the devil on his shoulder whispers "It might."

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x ofc #mathew barzal x ofc #mat barzal x woc!ofc #mathew barzal x woc!ofc #original female character #enemies to lovers #mendeshoney masterlist

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miraclesabound · 6 months

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Shoresy Poll Result

Based on the results of last week's poll, I'm splitting the difference a bit and making my Reader character an OC, but her stories will still be in second person as much as possible.

I'll put her info behind the cut for anyone who wants to wait for the next story to come out.

Tags: @captainsbestgal @magpie-to-the-morning @ironmandeficiency @undeadasdisco @deadbranch @brewed-pangolin @pettyprocrastination

Name: Penelope Byrd

Age: Same birthday as Shoresy, but older than him by all of an hour. You can imagine this cracks people up when they find out about it.

Nicknames: Pen, P, Pubsy, Nell/Nellie - NOT Penny, unless you're her mom (Vanessa) or her Aunt Tina.

Background: Sudbury born and raised, but didn't really get into hockey properly until she got the publicist job at the Bulldogs - now she's as much of a fan as anyone.

Quick reminder that Pen is a plus-sized lady!

#shoresy x reader

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stereax · 1 month

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Send me a potential AU: In 2015 Connor McDavid is drafted by the Leafs

Okay so this is from a Very Old ask game where it's "give me an AU, I give you five things about it". I forgot to do this, predictably. So! Let's do it now.

Toronto must win the Draft Lottery here. This means the draft order is Toronto, Buffalo, Arizona, Edmonton for the first four. Toronto drafts McDavid, Buffalo drafts Eichel. These are easy picks. Arizona, obviously, still picks Strome. Now, I don't know if Edmonton picks Marner and preserves the draft. My hunch is they don't, and go for Noah Hanifin instead. This means Carolina... fuck I do NOT want them getting Marner... aha! Sources from the time say they were highly interested in Hanifin, Marner, and Lawson Crouse at 5. Crouse was also better ranked in the pre-draft rankings, and is notably larger than Marner, and we know how NHL GMs are about size. Let's give them Crouse. And New Jersey can have Marner at 6. Zacha drops to 11 and is taken by the Panthers. The rest of the draft can stay as it actually happened.

While I froth at the mouth imagining Marner on the Devils, let's focus on Edmonton and Toronto. Now, I'm not going to butterfly effect my way through nine seasons of NHL hockey and drafts, so let's say everything else stays constant enough. This means your Core Four are now McDavid, Matthews, Nylander, and Tavares. Draisaitl is your full time #1 center in Edmonton, and I suspect with Hanifin they don't go after Nurse.

That being said, Toronto is still cursed. McDavid centering Matthews is fucking electric. But that team still can't win a playoff round, no matter what they do. Edmonton, too, struggles a lot more - Nugent-Hopkins is a fine 2C, but definitely not the McDavid to Draisaitl. With Hanifin, the Larsson trade might not happen, and Hall could stay in Edmonton longer-term as well. Butterfly effect, though. (Hyman, of course, is unaffected and enjoys scoring goals in the blue paint as always.)

The media is fucking crazy in Toronto. It takes a special kind of person to live up to that. Nothing McDavid will do is ever good enough. Especially because he's seen as The Next One. If you thought the media around Matthews, Nylander, Marner is rough, put the spotlight on McDavid and crank it up to 12. Poor Davo.

But I think despite that, Willy Styles and AMatts would be good for Davo. Teach him to have a little fun. Get him out of his head and remind him there's more out there than just hockey. McDavid is characterized as a "hockey robot", and to some level, he doesn't seem to conceptualize there being more to life than a game he is simply very good at but perhaps doesn't enjoy as much as you'd expect. Willy and Auston would fix that, I think, and develop a personality in poor Davo. Plus, he might be better dressed, too. Anyways, Winger Auston Matthews being psychosexually obsessed with his ubertalented center Connie McDavid when?

That's all for this one, the worms are braining here! Hope this is what you wanted, anon!

#stereanswers #sterechats :)

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crunchyharold · 2 years

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right lads and non-lads here r my initial thoughts and predictions for the new td cast

i have nearly no thoughts on this guy. seems like a cool dude. maybe a soundcloud rapper or some shit because he got that bling . i guess. might be an asshole possibly an early boot

friendly. i enjoy him. want to ruffle his hair

im doing this in order but i’ll put the hockey (?) bros together lmao. this one is also friendly but he looks kinda nervous to me maybe its just the upturned eyebrows but like. i think he has a Problem of some sort

with these guys i think they’re going to redo the katie and sadie thing but better. so like i think they’re gonna come in together and be like whoa whoa we’re best bros (im imagining a geoff and brody type relationship) and they’ll be put on separate teams and at first it’ll suck and they’ll be damnn i miss my bro :// but then they’ll slowly grow and develop as individual people (i think one will have a romantic plotline) which will only strengthen the bond they have with each other. either that or they’ll grow apart. i also think they’ll probably have a fight at some point.

the bleach and jewellery is giving token gay but the face is giving loser nerd with a squeaky voice. maybe both? i do think he’s gonna have an annoying voice though. honestly not a fan of him

she doesnt look too much like an egirl but she’s gotta be an egirl. probably makes tiktoks. probably cosplays. probably thinks she’s sooooo weird. i like the design but i also think im going to hate her. probably going to last until at least halfway because her design is too interesting to throw away immediately and leave us with Total Normie Island

I LOVE HER she’s so friendly looking she’s plus size while still being represented as pretty and feminine and also she looks like the lesbian flag. preppy but a teensy bit nerdy she’s probably a bit of a dork. if she’s a pre-merge elimination i will be FUMING

that being said. i wouldn’t be too surprised if she was secretly really mean and bitchy. i hope she doesnt because i love characters that are just nice for the sake of being nice but like if she’s pretending to be nice to manipulate people i wouldn’t be surprised

first off the bat if he’s a noah type (which he probably is given the facial expression) he’s probably going to last a while since noah got eliminated in island early and ended up being a fan favourite. appearance wise i cannot discern his vibe at all. i think he’s gonna have a vaguely nerdy hobby that he’s really pretentious and annoying about. dont think im gonna like him i think he’s gonna piss me off

immediate thought was this is the mom friend, something about the expression and the way her hands are folded neatly in her lap. also looks very friendly but something about the size of her eyes are throwing me off. i dont think they need to be that big. will probably last til halfway ish. idk how i feel about her

i have almost no thoughts about her. she could have any personality and i’d be like yeah sounds about right. the eyes are giving stoner. the rest of the expression is also kind of giving stoner. probably makes tiktoks. either an early boot or stays til nearly the end

he’s like a combination of lighting and ryan. think he’s gonna be a cool guy maybe a bit of a heartbreaker also im noticing right now that nearly everyone has earrings is that weird idk. people have pointed out he seems to be looking at soundcloud rapper guy maybe they gay. anyway yeah jock guy he looks a bit smug maybe he’s an asshole actually idk. no idea at all if i like him i do and also dont

nice guy friendly guy! either a finalist or part of a romance plotline. maybe gay? seems similar to mike in a way i can’t pinpoint. he’s one of my favourites but also i have no thoughts about him

she’s one of the most interesting looking but also kinda boring at the same time. like the hair and the beads goes off but the outfit does not. i really hope she isn’t a token black friend but the possibility is undeniably there. i think she’ll last quite a while like post-merge probably

she’s probably the most normal looking and for that reason she’s almost definitely a protag/love interest. the posture and expression seems to me like she grew up in a strict household and will slowly let loose over the course of the show. also a possibility she’s secretly very weird.

as we can see total drama has not outgrown the yellow east asian characters. cringe. this one’s giving such heavy nonbinary vibes to me that i’m already using “they” in my head but like lets be real they would never do that this is a cis girl anyway she’s giving crusty vibes she probably lives in a sewer or something idk its something about the oversized coat and the shit colour coordination and the hat. quite friendly quite chill probably a bit weird. i enjoy.

dont talk to me.

also giving nonbinary vibes but maybe its the rat tail. hate the neck hate the face shape hopefully an early boot because i dont want to have to look at this more than necessary but knowing my luck he’ll be in the final 4. looks friendly but at what cost. also why do u have a drink. probably collects cans or some shit

very mixed feelings. on one hand i love her. the piercings the whole look im here for it. on the other hand how many mean jock girls do we need. maybe she isnt a jock idk but the outfit is giving me jock vibes. on the otherrr hand since eva had one personality trait (being mega fucking fuming) and jo had three personality traits (being mean and competitive and Not Like Other Girls) maybe we’ll get??? an actual well rounded character??? with a plotline and development??? come on give her feelings i dare u. probably final 4

OVERALL THOUGHTS:

i said before that they look quite bland and and i do still stand by that but that doesnt mean i hate them or anything. its just that total drama characters were always like The __ One and its understandable that theyd run out of stereotypes but it also means that half of these people blend together a bit, especially the guys. i rlly like most of the girls designs but the guys are just ,, some dudes yakno

also im autistic and i hate new things. theres that too

theyll grow on me probably they already have a little bit. ive never witnessed a new td season before so this will be interesting probably i think

#long post #very fuckem long post #but i havent seen anyone talk about them all individually yet #total drama #mine

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josiebelladonna · 1 year

Text

I’ve talked about my life in weight, losing and gaining, but I never really went into the full extent of it. Yes, this is all me above here.

Consider this a memoir of sorts. It’s a “fat memoir”, plus a weight gain journey.

To put in simplest terms, I’ve wanted to be fat since I was a little girl: I remember being five years old and eating dinner in a warm trailer on a frigid snowy night in northern Nevada, and loving the feeling. I’d tell my mom I was hungry even after I ate within the hour. I’d take off my shirt and run my hand down my chest and my belly in front of the mirror and pretend I would have a fat belly instead. 5-year-old me even thought about being 300 pounds because it was unknown and exciting to me.

I think I was 6 when I got fat-shamed the first time. I don’t remember where it came from but I remember it clear as day, though: the message that to be fat is to be bad, like it’s a bad thing. When you’re a young kid like that, you see everything in black and white, so naturally I took it to heart.

So what did I do? I started sneaking extra food, next to eating healthily. I had a balanced diet from a young age, and it would always make me full. I kept it up as we moved from Carson City to the California desert, and I transitioned from elementary to middle school.

I was 11 when I really got hit with the shame: my uncle told me that I’m solidly built and therefore prone to weight gain, and the way he said it he made it sound like it was the worst thing ever. Add to this, I had family telling me to “lay off on the chips”, even though I was still still pretty thin by the time puberty hit me. And I was in health class in sixth grade, and I was introduced to the body mass index.

I was shocked to find that I had a BMI of 25, which is just at the “overweight” mark. 12 years old, 115 pounds and 5’4”—and I was thin, too, I had a slim belly and very slight hips. Imagine hearing that you’re overweight at 12 years old when you’ve been pretty much scrawny your entire childhood because your family was poor and you were told “fat is bad” for half of your life.

Needless to say, I developed anorexia. I would go for hours, sometimes whole days, without eating. I would turn down food. I would work out hard. I would play field hockey after having eaten only a sandwich and some apple juice, do all that running around… anything i could think of that would help keep my weight down. I still gained because I was in puberty: my hips got fuller, my breasts got bigger, and I got that little curve on the waist that just happens naturally with women, but I hated it. I didn’t want that curve—I think it was here I really started crossdressing more because it happened to me naturally.

But I hated my body. I wanted to be thin, without curves, but I still wanted to be a girl, though.

Understand I still love field hockey—it’s fun! I played that and softball. But it always left me so exhausted, because I was barely eating.

I remember laying in bed, in my hockey clothes, and feeling my poor belly, in all its flatness and tenderness.

I didn’t want to suffer. It felt as though it had been forced upon me. I was forced to destroy my own body all because of some arbitrary measurement system that is known to be eugenics and yet healthcare systems continue to use it: it’s honestly astounding to me, and it makes me wonder how many more kids are out there right now who feel at odds with it, like they don’t think their bodies are beautiful no matter what shape and size they are, and they have to force themselves into this complete bullshit out of worry that they’ll develop diseases that literally anyone can get regardless of weight.

Some days I would binge on anything and everything, and of course, I would feel guilty about it afterwards, and I would start the cycle all over again. I knew something was wrong when my hair started falling out and my acne was getting worse, too.

Everyone told me I looked good, especially when I was in the bridesmaid dress at my brother’s wedding at 16 years old.

I certainly didn’t feel good, though. In fact, whenever I lost weight, it never felt good.

When my parents split, I took a turn for the worse, mainly because my dad and I got evicted and whatever food came our way, we had to ration it of sorts. When I moved into my dorm, because my campus was on a hillside, I went up and down stairs and hills all the time. I bypassed the “freshman 15” and lost fifteen pounds when I lived on campus: once again, it was the whole “look good but I don’t feel good, though”. It didn’t help that they didn’t let me keep my food money once the school year ended. I moved off campus for my senior year to an apartment complex about half a mile away, and then to the house across the street, and then a house about a block away from the school. All that moving, and I took a turn for the worse. School was getting harder and I kept losing weight all the while.

I remember feeling cold all the time: it didn’t help that I lived in the mountains of Oregon at the time, and it was quite the cold winter that year (so many days it dropped down below zero—i often thought of going outside naked and laying down in the snow, just to feel something before I “went”).

Anorexics, notably Karen Carpenter, have heart problems, and most of them do die of heart failure at some point: it was starting to go that way for me, now that i think about it in hindsight. My blood pressure has always been low, even now at my heaviest which I’ll explain soon enough, but during that low point, it was quite low. There were a few mornings I woke up and I couldn’t believe that I did, like I hadn’t died in my sleep. If anything, I was expecting it.

Anorexia also does very strange things to a person, not just physiologically and internally, but mentally, too: you get in denial and you also believe that you can’t do anything right, and you also think that everyone is out to get you. I wanted to change but I didn’t know who to turn to, and everyone seemed too busy as well.

I was stuck, and in the worst way possible. And I was shedding pounds, too.

What made me change course, you ask? Well, there are a couple of things: the first was that camping trip over thanksgiving weekend to the coast, where I ate that whole grasshopper pie by myself (no one was eating it and I didn’t want it to go to waste) plus a change in career course. I was not only another cog in the BMI machine but in the collegiate machine as well: high school left me horrifically unprepared for college life, and I felt like such a fish out of water in the engineering department. I was too weird and the curricula either bored me to tears or went right over my head. I tried talking to people, my counselor, my professors, and even my mother because she was going to the same school as me, and I was always—always—turned away. My mom was often in a bad mood back then because of the workload she had, too. It often felt like nobody was listening… until I made them listen by not signing up for spring term classes. When my parents and eventually the rest of the family found out, with this rumor that I was dropping out and throwing everything away, they all lost their shit and that was when I couldn’t take it anymore and I cried harder than I ever did in my life.

I actually remember having a makeshift noose around my neck that day. I was going to do it. I felt like I let everyone down, and throw in my malnourished, emaciated body, I had completely lost my will to live a second longer. If this was how the world saw me, a complete fuck-up and a waste of space, then I would do the honor of relieving everyone the misery of knowing me.

My father and brother would later use this against me in late 2015, well after I had begun my recovery no less, but there was no way around it, though.

It was my stepdad who talked me down from it, and I was able to brush back my tears and say it out loud that I wanted to be an artist, and he actually talked me into it, like he said that it would be the best thing for me. Honestly, that was the best thing he ever did for me… god bless his soul.

I didn’t start healing my relationship with my body until 2014, however. I had gained a little bit of weight over the course of 2013, not a lot, but it was enough to make me stop feeling cold all the time and give me some more energy to go on walks again. That was another hard winter, though, one filled with anxiety and paranoia and… not really making any sense? And what’s worse is I had no idea where it was coming from until well after the fact: it was leftover from anorexia as well as feeling like I couldn’t do anything with myself. I had transferred to a community college for my two-year degree in general art studies and everyone was looking at me funny. I had a crush on a guy who felt out of reach and I didn’t know what to tell him if I ever had the chance.

I literally felt as though I was losing my mind, all the way to the point of my finding the way to write my letter to Ben shepherd, courtesy of my mom’s willingness and keen eye. At that point, I had to take my sabbatical from school for six months and try out something to ease my mind.

I got a job at the Dutch Bros about a mile away, so I could ride my bike or walk there—I also got free coffee. I think it was here I got into the habit of getting a slice of pie at the café up the street, too: cheap-o pie, too, it was only a buck seventy-five and delicious. I had to quit because my anxiety still wasn’t getting any better, but I actually enjoyed it because of the coffee and the pie. I knew I gained weight because when I went out for a ride, I noticed I was having to pump my legs a little harder.

I kept it steady throughout 2014, through betrayals and bullies on the internet, through Chris sharing my art on Twitter, through seeing Soundgarden three times and starting up school again. But the anxiety persisted, and I could feel my body image slipping again, and I suffered a full mental breakdown to the point I nearly checked myself into the hospital.

But through my broken mind, I noticed that I was getting a little belly, a little roll of fat around my waist. And when I had to move back home as my mom and my stepdad were moving back as well to care for the house his mother left behind, the thing that kept me out of the hospital, I could see the light again.

When I got to the house, I found a scale.

199 pounds. Whoa. How did that happen?

Indeed, I looked at my body and while I had thickened a bit in the hips, I still looked very thin.

I was in the mountains: I was either walking up stairs or a hill. I could have that weight but I could exercise more, and more rigorously, too.

I dropped down to 180 by Christmas: I look at pix of myself from then, when I met Chris and when my family were being assholes for literally no reason—I’m seriously not exaggerating when I say that, either: I said I wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a bit and my dad took it the complete wrong way—and I was quite spry then.

But I felt like something was missing, though. I felt good with a belly because it gave me comfort when my mind was broken: I had always associated thinness with pain and bad periods of my life and chubbiness with joy and pleasure.

So, what did I do? I started eating more. I started relaxing more. Eating and relaxing, relaxing and eating. I gained almost 30 pounds by the springtime: I actually felt pretty good in an otherwise abysmal year.

Then my grandma passed in June and my brother and sister-in-law were giving me dirty looks at the funeral, again, for no reason. The next month my sister-in-law was killed in a freak rollover accident.

The funeral there took place in Vegas (in the middle of July, too: I remember it was 117° the day of, and everyone was wearing tuxes and heavy dresses: I was in a sundress and sweating like crazy), and during the reception, where they had a big buffet for everyone and then some, I helped myself to two plates of food, two plates full of dessert, plus a few more cookies, another cupcake, more veggies, and a couple more things. Middle of summer in Vegas at a funeral and yet I had just eaten as if it was Thanksgiving back home in Oregon on a snowy night.

It was so twisted when you think about it (and to be fair, she never liked me) but there’s something very subversive about pleasure in my eyes, though. You have to cross some lines to do right by someone, that someone being myself. And let me tell you, it felt good.

And yet, I kept my weight steady at around the 210 - 220 pound range for a few years, even through 2017, one of the worst years of my life, and when I went dark in late 2016 into late 2018. It was around here I started digging more into my sexuality and my writing: I was able to examine my thoughts more closely being away from the world for the most part. In 2019, I wrote Have Your Cake and Eat It, my ode to Lars and the fact he’s always hungry, and my first fanfic in 6 years at that point. I never really examined the kink through extensive writing before so it was an interesting endeavor.

I was around 200 by the time the lockdowns came: my eating habits went sideways all through 2019. Life didn’t really change much for me, aside from realizing everything was closed and I couldn’t do anything without a mask on. I gained a little bit of weight, but I kept exercising and the incident between me and the art thief, and the plagiarism incident between me and you-know-who, and I lost some and then I thought it had plateaued again by the time Alex entered my life.

My stepdad passed. It was a long time coming, though: the man had congestive heart failure, he was an alcoholic, and according to my mom, he was jaundiced for at least a decade. Though 2019 was a very fun year in retrospect, he began drinking more and getting drunk more often, and it wound up biting him in the ass in early 2021. Easter weekend, his liver started failing and he turned blue. The very moment he entered the hospital, he was septic and his kidneys failed.

Now it’s just my mom and me, plus our dog, our cat, his stepson and his girlfriend and their daughter.

But the next thing I know, there’s a bunch of food in the house. He’s also not around to give me shit for it, either.

I went from 212 pounds to 245 that year. Moreover, I really liked the way I looked with those 30 pounds, and I started thinking about how when I was little, I thought of gaining weight and getting very fat, how hungry I would often feel and yet I couldn’t eat because we were poor and I live in a fatphobic world.

And I haven’t looked back.

Now, here I am, at my absolute heaviest weight, 267 pounds, what you call a “big beautiful woman” or “bbw”, by definition and I love it. I love looking down and seeing my belly obscuring the view of toes (if anything, I feel relieved by it), i love how soft it feels, especially around the lower part, and I feel very sexy now. Whenever I take a pic of my body and I angle it down to my belly, I get so aroused, like I genuinely feel sexy for once.

I have a big sexy belly now.

(And you know what they say, if you feel sexy, you look sexy)

I love my double chin, too: I remember being thin and wishing I had a fat double under my chin—I’ve always found them distinguished more than anything. I love the “belt” of stretch marks on my waist: I really love stretch marks, tbh, they’re interesting.

And my body feels so strong, too: I am living proof that you can be fat and healthy. My gains have been staggered and gradual, and very healthy up to this point. It’s probably why I weigh as much as i do, and yet, the only thing about me that’s actually fat is my belly: the rest of my body is just rather full if anything. Everything is right where it should be and I’ve never felt healthier: probably the only drawbacks of being heavy are getting winded more easily and finding clothes that aren’t hideous. I’m actually getting looks now, like actual passes from strangers: I used to never get looks, either. It’s like, yeah, I’m a hot chubby chick, look at these stout curves and well-fed potbelly, babe: I can’t stop looking, too 😋🥵

Because of this, I actually want to be heavier, at least 280 pounds—5-year-old me dreamed of being 300+ and I think it’s definitely in the cards. I don’t want to be more than 375 pounds, though, I think that’d be too much.

But I like walking around and letting everything hang forth, I love eating a lot, and I love how I hold onto this weight so well: you would think that I would have been morbidly obese at this weight, but aside from the belly, I don’t really look it: I can still feel my hipbones and my ribs, and my double chin only just recently started showing itself, too. I’m chubby, but I know I can be fuller, heavier, much chubbier and rounder. I’m not big enough yet. I’m very aroused by the thought of being 298 pounds and having this lusciously fat belly on me, with tight skinny jeans to accentuate its full, round shape and nothing more than a black lace bra to show it off.

I have no doubt in my mind that my precarious formative years and teenage dysphoria has come from not being heavy and not being able to gain a lot of weight like I have the last decade. Add in my weight gain/fat kink, and it should come as no surprise that I still deal with residual shame.

But it is pleasurable, though: when my mom and I finally move away from this house, and we go back to civilization, I’ll get back into the creamy coffee and piece of pie habit, but I think I’ll mix it up. I’ll have a milkshake and a big reuben sandwich or a burger and fries or a gyro. I’ll have a full meal plus dessert, because I’ve always wanted dessert in a restaurant. I’ll go to more than one place, too. I love wearing clothes that are a bit too tight because they flatter my belly. I love fatty foods like donuts and funnel cake, and I’ll happily eat big helpings of both because they’re delicious and sexy food.

Sometimes I’ll think about disappearing into a city or an island nation like Iceland or Fiji, or a country where they love to eat like Lithuania and getting up to 300 pounds easily no questions asked, and that inexplicably feels to be in the cards, too: the only family who care about me are my parents and my aunt Chris; my mom is very supportive of me (I’m kind of the only person she cares about as she and my brother don’t talk) and since my stepdad passed, she’s been in a better place; my dad’s happy now, and my aunt Chris has always been very understanding. When my cousin Harmony came out as lesbian at age 14 and identified as male (I was a baby, so I have no memory of it), the three of them were the only ones in the whole family who understood. But my mom and I could move to Reno or at least a place where it doesn’t take a whole day to go into town, and I could get very fat so easy. I’ll flirt with 350 all because literally no one else will recognize me.

Yeah, it’s definitely bad… in a “I’m a total bad girl who gives the finger to what society wants me to be.”

My weight and the associated kink I have with it has always been a very touchy subject for me, both from the anorexia, but also from the stigma surrounding weight gain.

I remember how happy people were when I said I lost twenty pounds in 2014: I was added to a group called “breaking slim” because of it, too, started by a woman who used to be well over 300 pounds and then she lost about half of it—looking back on it, she looked better heavy; when I looked at her after the weight loss, she looked gaunt and sickly. I remember people looking at this pic of me in my old nirvana shirt and telling me I looked pretty (I sure didn’t feel it, though).

I have had friends who have gotten really fat, fatter than me, and then they lose the weight and they get so much applause and shit: I mentioned the fact that I gained weight on purpose and I’m met with shock and horror.

It’s not just me, either: there’s that one friend that I have, he was in an abusive relationship and he got out of it a few years back and he started drinking and using drugs to cope and it just about killed him (young guy, too, only a few years older than me). I saw him before I signed off facebook for another hiatus and he was in a much better place, and he got heavier as a result of his cleaning up… and naturally, there were a few comments on that thread that struck me as somewhat fatphobic. I have a couple of female friends with depression and they’re taking pills for it (that’s last thing you want to do for any mental illness, imo, but that’s just me), and the last time I saw them, they were both talking about how the medicine makes them “fat as fuck”, and I look and they’re like me about 15 pounds ago, barely chubby. I see it in Alex and the subtle self-deprecating comments he makes at himself and his body: that poor man, I swear—I want to protect him so badly, like I wish I lived closer to him and be a comfort to him. I want to be his safe place, his escape.

I hope my story helps someone somewhere, especially now with diet ads being every other commercial now with New Year’s upon us.

You are more than your weight. Diet culture is deadly, as it nearly killed me—and go down the rabbit hole with that, too, diets are not good, trust me. If anything, you should eat more: we are a country that has a huge issue with food waste, eat. Some of you look good and healthy being a little stout: in fact, you can be very healthy being a little round. If you do what my best friend Elizabeth and I used to do (and what I used to do as soon as 2016) and tuck a pillow under your shirt, and you aren’t envisioning a fetus in there, look into that: your body might be telling you something. Listen to your body and your heart, not what the world wants you to be.

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aallamericanlimofan-blog · 2 months

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#ChicagoConcerts #chicagoevents #ChicagoNightOut #ChicagoSports #CorporateEventsChicago #EventTransportation #FamilyEventsChicago #GroupTravelChicago #LimoServiceChicago #luxurytransportation #MarchEventsChicago #NightlifeTransportation #PartyBusRental #SafeRideChicago #St.Patrick'sDayChicago

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sweettomyhoney · 4 months

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personally i would love to read a fic where y/n catches an assault charge for fighting a reporter who said something outta line about her man lmao

𝕂𝕟𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕠𝕦𝕥- 𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕨.𝕋𝕜

𝙿𝚘𝚟: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊 𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠.

𝙰𝙽: 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙼𝚛. 𝚃𝚔𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

Prof read is a no/ this is a long one

———————————————————

Matthew knew what type of woman he had on his hands from the day one. You were sweet, kindhearted and loving. You were the girl of his dreams and his family absolutely adored you. After all, you did have a temper that only a Tkachuk could love. You were a perfect match for Matthew.

On the other hand, you were a force to be reckoned with. If someone even dared to test your gangster you would give them exactly what they dished out. You were a very protective person, especially when it came to Matthew, or the people that you loved. You were not afraid to get your hands dirty if need be. And today was not the day for someone to want to get on your bad side.

Moving from Calgary to Florida was a huge transition for you and Matthew. But, the both of you knew as long as you had each other everything would be fine. Sadly, ever since you’ve gotten settled in the state it seems like the chaos had not stopped. From unpack, adjusting schedules, getting settled at work, time difference, dealing with new people, and Matthew traveling, it was overwhelming. Now, your main concern was making it through family media day.

Today was the first family day for Matthew with his new team. Since you are now Matthew‘s wife, that ment your day would be filled with nonstop interviews from different local media outlets.For the most part things went smooth, until your last interview with a reporter from a hockey podcast you were not familiar with.

You made your way to your designated interview room hoping to be joined by your husband. As you took your seat ,you were informed it was a solo interview due to Matthew needing to meet with the NHL Network. Then a older blonde women entered the room.

•“Mrs. Tkachuk! it is so nice to meet you.” She said with a smile.

• “Hello it’s nice to meet you too” You reply happily.

• “You are even more beautiful in person.” She said now shaking your hand.

•“I’m Carla. Media Manager for the Panthers and I wanted to introduce you to your interviewer today.” She continued.

Before you could even get a word in, a much younger brunette entered the room.

•“You’re the new WAG I need to interview right?” The brunette said coldly.

•“Yeah that is me, and my name is (y\n) btw.” You replied confused.

•“Not important we are here about Matthew anyway.” She replied with an eye roll

•“Matthew will not be joining us for this interview.” Carla introjected.

• “Great! Another interview with an air head.” The brunette muttered under her breath.

• “Excuse me?” You replied taken back.

• “ Well! I will leave y’all to it!” Carla said quickly before leaving the room.

• “This is going to be fun!” You said to yourself sarcastically.

You then made your way over to your designated seat. The camera crew made sure that your mic was on,and that the lighting was working for you. Once everything was good the interview started.

•“ 3.2.1… Action! ” The camera man counted down.

• “ Welcome back to the Hockey Babes Podcast! I am Brianna! Today I am joined with the new Mrs. Matthew Tkachuk!” The brown haired reporter said enthusiastically.

• “Oh so you have a name? Brianna is it?” You said with a smile.

• “Yes! That is me.” She replied with a hair flip.

• “But anyway! Let’s get into the questions shall we?” Briana said sharply.

• “ We shall.” You replied trying to play nice.

• “So (y/n) what is it like marrying into the most hated NHL family?” Brianna said with a smile.

•“ Excuse me? Hate is a strong word don’t you think?” You replied taken back.

• “ Well it’s not like you married into a truly classy family like the Nylander’s. The Tkachuk’s do have a reputation for being white trash.” She said with a laugh.

“Is this bitch for real?” You thought to yourself. What type of interviewer asks a question like that. You were trying so hard to keep your patience. Luckily, It was the last interview of the day. All you needed to do was get through this last thing, then you were back with your loving husband. You continued to answer the question as calmly as possible.

• “ I do understand that my husbands family has a reputation for playing rough. But, white trash is the last thing that they are. Also, if you were good at your job you would know what WE Tkachuk’s are pretty close to the Nylander’s . My husband was drafted the same year as Alex. Also, his former team mate Auston Matthews now plays on the same line and team as William. So, I am pretty sure if we weren’t classy we wouldn’t be as close as we are.” You said confidently.

•“ You keep telling yourself that.” She replied laughing it off

• “So how did you and Matthew meet exactly?” Brianna continued with a snarky grin.

• “It was after he was drafted. I work with nonprofit organizations with the goal to make sports accessible to everyone. I have worked with Nike, Adidas, Reebok, and Dicks Sporting Goods. I met Matthew when the Calgary Flames volunteered to work with at risk kids. I have been in love with him ever since.” You replied reminiscing on the very moment you knew Matt was the one.

•“ How cute! Got to make up for the lack of talent he has somehow. Glad to see you have a working brain as well!” she said light heartedly.

•“ What do you mean by that?” You replied getting angrier by the second.

•“ I mean you are with the less successful brother. Brady is the youngest captain in the NHL. And tell me what exactly Matthew has accomplished?” She remarked doubling down on her rude comments.

“ You know what? I think this interview is over!” You said angrily as you stood to take off your mic.

“Aww…Did I make the Air Head mad?” Brianna said antagonizing you.

Before you could think, you lunged at her your fist connecting with her face. You grabbed her hair and pulled her out of her seat. You were full on twirling on this hoe.

• “YOU WANNA TALK SHIT LIKE A BITCH THEN IMMA DOG WALK YOU LIKE ONE!” you said dragging her across the floor.

• “ RIGHT BITCH! WRONG IDEA! DON’T EVER TRY TO BAD MOUTH MY FAMILY HOE!” You screamed as security and Matthew proceed to try a pull you two apart.

•“ Y/N IT’S OKAY! IT IS OKAY! YOU GOT HER! IT’S OKAY” you heard Matthew yell as he held you back from going at her again.

As Security dealt with Brianna, Matthew walked you to the medical room. You took a seat on the patient table. Matthew tried to calm you down as best as he could. You had a few scratches, so Matthew decided to find some things to clean you up. When you were calm enough, Matthew asked you what exactly happened.

•“ Baby what happened? Are you okay?” Matthew asked you wrapping his arms around you.

•“ NO! I am not okay! I just spent the last 45 minutes listening to my family be bad mouthed by a random podcast bitch.” You said brokenhearted.

• “ WHAT!” Matthew replied now upset at what he was hearing.

• “ YES! That bitch was talking about how the Tkachuk’s are white trash. How you are not successful cause you’re not a captain yet! And a bunch of other shit about my intelligence!” You told Matthew getting upset again.

• “ That is fucked up! I’ll take care of whatever bullshit comes next okay?You don’t have to worry about that. But,I want to make sure you are okay?” Matthew said concerned.

• “Well I just whooped her ass, so I guess I’m good” you said brushing your tears away.

• “ You did get her pretty good babe. Maybe you are a Tkachuk after all. I should take a few fights lessons from you. ” Matthew said cracking a grin.

• “ Matthew shut up!” You replied rolling your eyes.

• “ What? All I’m saying is that my father would definitely be proud of you.” Matthew replied causing you to crack a little smile.

• “ You think?” You asked looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

• “ I know for sure my little hot head.” Matthew continued leaning into kiss your forehead.

• “ Now you lay back and rest I’m going to sort this all out. Then we will be on our way home.” Matthew added giving you another forehead kiss.

• “ You don’t think I’ll have to deal with the police right?” You questioned him before he left the room.

• “ No way! The most that will happen is needing to pay a fine. Also you know I have a Fight Fine Fund. Triple F for short .” Matthew reassured you with a slight laugh.

• “It is the NHL after all.” You said laying your head down on the padded table.

Matthew managed to sort some things out for you. The most you had to pay was a fine of 8,000 bucks. This was a standard financial investment for Matthew. The man had 100k stocked for fines he might rack up during the season. Brianna on the other hand, was prohibited to conduct any future interviews with the Panthers. In the end, never mess with a woman who is in love with a man like Matthew Tkachuk. You will end up with your ass beat.

PS: I HOPE THIS DOSE YOUR REQUEST JUSTICE 😘💪

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk smut #hockey #nhl #hockey tea #nhl imagines #black nhl imagines #nhl plus size imagines #florida panthers #Florida Panthers imagines #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #nhl wag #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl players

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linuxgamenews · 5 months

Text

Form Teams and Compete in Golf With Your Friends

Golf With Your Friends Teams Mode is available Free for the mini-golf sim game for Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC. o the team at Blacklight Interactive for their amazing work in bringing these new features. Available Free for owners on Steam and Humble Store. Golf With Your Friends, a popular mini-golf sim experience, has recently introduced a brand-new way to play: Teams Mode. This addition spices things up for players on Linux and Steam Deck. Teams Mode transforms the way you engage with Golf With Your Friends. Now, you're not just playing solo or in a standard group. You can form teams of any size and compete against others. This means you and your friends can team up and face off against another group, bringing a fun, competitive edge to every match. The best part? Teams Mode lets you represent different areas from the Golf With Your Friends universe. Each team accumulates points, and there are multiple ways to score, making every session unique and exciting. Plus, the rules about how balls collide add another layer of strategy and fun.

Golf With Your Friends | Teams Mode Update Out Now

youtube

Along with Teams Mode, there's something else that's new in Golf With Your Friends: The Teams Mascot Hat Pack. This collection includes 12 unique hats inspired by the biggest teams in the game world, like Jurassic Jaws and Nimble Gnomes. These hats cost around £3.49/$3.99/€3.99, adding a personal touch to your play style via Steam. There's also a free Teams Mascot Sticker Pack. These stickers let you show off your favorite team and add a bit more flair to your sessions.

Key Features:

Diverse Courses: The courses are creatively themed. You could be playing on a volcano, in a museum filled with dinosaur fossils, or even in space!

12-Player Matches: You can play Golf With Your Friends with up to 12 friends at once, making for a lively and fun-filled session in Teams Mode.

Game-Changing Effects: Expect power-ups and unusual effects that completely changes the typical mini-golf experience. Imagine playing with gravity or using oddly shaped balls!

Beyond Traditional Mini-Golf: This isn't just regular mini-golf. There are other modes, like versions of hockey and basketball, adding variety to your play.

Customization: You can customize your ball with skins, hats, and trails to make your playing experience truly your own.

To stay updated with all the latest news on Golf With Your Friends, and be sure to check out Teams Mode. This mode is a solid change, making the mini-golf sim more interactive, competitive, and fun than ever before. Available for owners on Steam, priced at $14.99 USD / £10.99 / 14,99€. Or you get the 67% discount on Humble Store, priced at $4.94 USD / £3.62 / €4.94. Along with support for Linux, Steam Deck, Mac, and Windows PC.

#golf with your friends #mini golf sim #teams mode #linux #gaming news #blacklight interactive #ubuntu #steam deck #mac #windows #pc #unity #Youtube

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mcleodharboe45 · 2 years

Text

replica kelly bag 7

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capsleafsstarshurricanehamilton · 4 years

Text

Who Do You Think You Are?

Using a prompt from @cali-girl-in-heart : Who do you think you are?

Characters: Freddie Anderson and Y/N

Genre: Angst-ish then fluff, this is not amazing please be kind :)

Requests open because I am bored!

*******************************

Y/N was fuming, she did not think she had ever been so angry at someone before. Y/N was walking through the park trying to calm down after her fight with Freddie, she had never felt so angry at Freddie and at the same time so inferior to him. Y/N was also unsure of what was happening in her relationship with Freddie.

Y/N thought back to what had made her so angry. She thought back to being in Freddie’s apartment with him, she was telling him some news about her grant and how she had won an award and would be honored at an upcoming dinner. Y/N said she would really enjoy it if Freddie could come with her to the dinner. Y/N had checked and there was no game scheduled for that night but for some reason when she asked Freddie, he scoffed and told her no. Y/N wanted answers.

Y/N said,” What do you mean no? You don’t have a game that night why can’t you come this is really important to me.”

Freddie just looked at her and said: “Look I don’t get many nights off and I want to enjoy that night by myself.”

Y/N looked at Freddie with wide eyes and said” Freddie, I know you are the star goaltender for the Toronto Maple Leafs but I don’t know who you think you are in our relationship that you would say that to me, I don’t get a lot of time off either but I spend a lot of nights at your games supporting you, why can’t you support me! I’m leaving.”

With that Y/N grabbed her keys and phone and left. Y/N made sure she slammed the door on the way out. Y/N brought her attention to where she was walking through the park, she was still extremely angry and not ready to talk to him yet.

Realizing it was late at night and she was tired Y/N decided to check herself into a hotel for the night, she just needed some time to think before dealing with Freddie. After getting to her room, she turned her phone off and laid down in bed to go to sleep.

******************

The next morning Y/N woke up and while she was still angry with Freddie she knew she would have to talk to him at some point. Y/N was shocked when she turned her phone back on and was met with over 100 messages from Freddie. Y/N didn’t read them and headed home to talk to Freddie.

********************

Freddie knew he was a jerk and knew that his reasons for blowing up at Y/N were uncalled for and that he shouldn’t have taken his anger from practice out on Y/N. Freddie slept on the couch hoping she would come home and messaged her until he had to put his phone on the charger. The next morning she still wasn't back and Freddie was panicking. Freddie got up and went to make his morning coffee when he heard the door open up. Freddie raced down the hall to see Y/N coming in the door. Freddie rushed over to hug her but she put her hand up and told him she needed some time and walked down the hall to their room. Y/N shut and locked the door and Freddie felt even worse.

Freddie decided to give Y/N some space so that he wouldn’t upset her anymore. Freddie decided this was the time to make a plan to beg for her forgiveness and show Y/N how really sorry he was.

Y/N had gone into their room and laid down so she could sleep a little bit more before she talked to Freddie, while she only planned to close her eyes for a few minutes it ended up being a whole three hours before she woke up from her nap. Y/N crawled out of bed and walked down the hall to talk to Freddie.

Y/N mouth dropped open when she opened the door. There were flowers everywhere and Freddie was sitting in the hallway waiting for Y/N to come out. When he heard the door open Freddie’s head popped up and he quickly moved to stand up. Before Y/N could say anything Freddie started talking, “ Y/N I am so sorry and I had no reason to react like that when you were asking me to do something for you, you are so right you give up so much to come to my games and I would love to come with you to watch you be honored because you are the most amazing woman I have ever met and you deserve someone to be at your side cheering you on. If your willing to forgive me for being so stupid I would love to go with you to the event.”

Y/N understood that Freddie was sorry but she also knew that she loved him and that he would support her. Y/N said, “ Yes Freddie, I would love it if you would go with me and I know you're sorry but that really hurt.”

“ I understand 100% sweetheart and I will do whatever I can for the rest of my life to show you how much I love you and how sorry I am,” said Freddie.

“Great,” said Y/N as she smiled and got closer to Freddie to give him a hug and a kiss. As Y/N reached in to hug him, Freddie wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up close to him, Y/N wrapped her legs around Freddie’s waist and he walked them over to the couch where they spent the rest of the afternoon, making out, talking and just being with each other.

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen imagine #frederick andersen imagine #plus size hockey imagines

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antoineroussel-archive · 5 years

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give the stars something to watch - mitch marner

summary: Mitch is very good at putting his foot in his mouth. He is just as good as fixing his mistakes.

word count: 1,838

Grace was unsurprised to walk into her bedroom and see Mitch sitting in her desk chair, his feet kicked up onto her bed as he messed around on his phone. It didn’t even bother her that she was wearing just her jeans and bra.

“You’re early,” she said, kicking his legs so he took his feet off her duvet.

He barely looked up. “I’ve been bored all day.”

“You’re a millionaire. You have no right to be bored.”

Grace turned to look at the mirror above her dresser and rolled her eyes when, through the mirror’s reflection, she saw Mitch kick his feet up again.

“No one’s around to hang out with.”

“Aw,” Grace cooed, “Matts has gone home and now Mitchy’s lonely.”

Mitch’s glare was mirrored which made it even less intimidating than it already was.

Grace applied her makeup and she could hear Mitch’s phone dinging every so often, interrupting the music he had started to play. Mitch lived life more on the edge than Grace did; she wasn’t sure he even knew where the switch was to silence his phone.

“Tonight’s gonna be so good.”

“You’ve been talking about this like you don’t live in Toronto anymore. Like you didn’t see all of these people last month.”

“Yeah, but Stromer and Davo are going to be here. So tonight matters.”

“I’m sorry that us commoners aren’t enough for you.”

Grace braced and rightly so because she soon felt her own pillow hit her squarely in the back of the knees. She waited until he was looking back down at his phone before she picked it up off the floor and hurled it at his face.

He shrieked, causing Grace much delight. He was still watching her carefully, Grace watching him just as much, when he sat up just enough to push the pillow behind his back.

Grace pulled her top over her head, careful to not brush it over her face. The sheerness was intimidating when she’d first bought it and she was yet to wear it for anybody other than her own reflection, but she had been psyching herself up all week.

With a quick tousle of her hair, Grace turned around and presented herself to Mitch with arms outstretched and a pleased grin on her face.

Mitch sat up, his phone dropping down beside him. He said, “God, you look like your mom.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

“No—like that photo,” Mitch said, standing to look out into the hallway, gesturing at the wall.

The photo he was talking about was hanging in the hall of her mother and father during spring break some twenty years earlier. It always made Mitch pause when he walked by.

Grace turned away, making no attempt to hide the disgust that crossed her face. “The one that gives you a semi? That’s disgusting, Mitch. I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?” he asked innocently, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s a compliment! You know how hot she was back then. Still is, to be perfectly honest.”

Her stomach turned, and she swallowed the roughness catching in her throat. She huffed, “I don’t like hearing about how much you jack off thinking about my mom.”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing that up. I’ve never said that,” Mitch argued, not moving from against the doorframe, only shifting to cross his arms.

Grace wasn’t a fan of the way her heart skipped a beat at the sight. She hated the forearm tattoo with a passion—it was too big and too grey but mostly it hid the sinewy muscle underneath it. She collected her handbag from the chair, slung it over her shoulder, and pulled her jacket out of the closet.

She pulled a steadying breath into her lungs and spoke in a small voice, “She’s been a size two her entire life.”

“What size are you?” Mitch asked, clearly not thinking about his words, just asking an honest question.

“Not a size two,” Grace spat, squeezing her jacket in both hands and bringing it closer to her stomach.

“Obviously,” Mitch said instantly, gesturing to her body.

It took a second, but Mitch stood upright. He reached for Grace, but she stepped out of his reach. Her expression said it all, she could feel the wobble in her bottom lip.

“You should go to the party,” she said as steadily as she could. Though the wobble was sneaking into her words. “I’m not feeling it anymore.”

Grace walked towards Mitch and forced him to start taking steps backwards until he was no longer in her bedroom but standing out in the hallway.

“Grace—I didn’t—”

“Mean it?” she asked, standing in the doorframe. “Of course, you did. I’m fat.”

“You aren’t—”

“I am. I know I am. Don’t lie to me.”

“Then why are you mad at me?” Mitch asked hopelessly. “You know you’re not a size two, so why are you getting mad at me for saying it?”

“You didn’t need to be disgusted about it.”

He threw his hands into the air. “I fucking wasn’t!”

Grace shut the door in his face, quickly snipping the lock. She dropped her jacket and bag onto the floor and made a beeline for her bed. Mitch’s phone was sitting there.

She opened the bedroom door, ready to put the phone on the ground for Mitch to come back and get. However, as it opened, it got heavy under her hand and Mitch fell into the room, nearly face planting on the floor.

He recovered quickly, straightening up and only briefly glancing down at the hand she had outstretched, proffering his phone.

“Grace, please.”

“Have fun at the party, Mitch.”

“Grace, honey, Mitch is here!” Grace’s mother called from the bottom of the stairs. Grace wished it wasn’t common knowledge that she could hear everything that was yelled at her from anywhere in the house.

“Thanks, mom!”

She stood in her doorway for a few moments, to gather her thoughts

With all the petulance of a young child, Grace took the stairs one at a time stopped on the fifth to bottom step—the last one before she could be seen by someone standing at the front door.

“Will you come for a walk with me, Gracie?”

Grace’s eyes fell shut and she sighed. No response came from her mouth in the hopes that Mitch would get the idea and leave.

“I would really appreciate if you came for a walk with me.”

“How do you know I’m here?” she asked quietly, her feet firmly planted on the step.

“You’re my best friend. I’ve stood with you hundreds of times on that step and hid from my parents when they came to pick me up. Please?”

Grace took the final steps, her heart skipping a beat when she finally laid eyes on Mitch. It wasn’t easy to stay mad at him, not that she often was, but it was also wasn’t impossible for her to stand her ground.

“We can go to the park.”

For a split second, a smile crept onto Mitch’s face but he was able to wipe it off before it was fully formed. He pulled one of Grace’s jackets off the hook beside the door, holding it out to help her into it only for her to grab the collar and use her other hand to pull a set of house keys out of the bowl. Mitch opened the door and took a step back.

Mitch walked with his hands firmly in his pockets. Grace had hers crossed over her chest. They walked only a few inches apart, just far enough for their shoulders not to brush.

“You know that you’re gorgeous, right?”

“I don’t need you to kiss my ass just because you think you hurt my feelings,” Grace said, keeping a stony voice despite the aggressive blush on her face. She kept it angled away from Mitch so that he couldn’t see.

“But I did hurt your feelings. I’ve known you for twenty years,” he nudged her lightly. “I know when you’re upset.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m upset but that doesn’t mean you have to kiss my ass and lie to my face.”

Mitch stopped walking, his hand reaching out for Grace’s wrist.

The cold was far more noticeable when they weren’t moving. At least that’s the reason Grace would give for the shivers that ran up her arm and down her spine if anyone were to ask.

“When was the last time I lied to you?”

“What’s that matter?”

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I lied to you—even when you were upset with me. I don’t lie to you to cheer you up.”

Grace looked at the moon over Mitch’s shoulder and shuffled from foot to foot. “What other reason is there for you to call me gorgeous?”

“The very big reason that you are gorgeous.”

The sincerity in his voice hurt her heart. It was something she had longed to hear but it was surreal to be standing in front of Mitch and for him to be the one saying it.

“Why are you saying things like this all of a sudden? Are you… Are you just lonely now that you’re single?”

Mitch shook his head, leading Grace by the arm he was still holding to the swing set in the park. They sat in the swings, pushing back and forth with their feet never leaving the ground.

“It’s the sort of thing that’s very inappropriate to say to someone when you’re in a relationship with someone else.”

“Wise move, I guess.”

Mitch made a wide circle on his swing, just to flick Grace’s shoulder. She looked at him, mimicking his fond expression.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” Mitch said. Then hesitated and added, “Might make you love yourself a bit more.”

Grace averted her gaze again, picking the longest patch of grass she could find and fixing her eyes on it. “Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Yeah, Grace,” Mitch said softly. “I do.”

Grace nodded, her cheeks warming. “Do you know what you’re doing by saying these things to me?”

“Yeah, Grace.”

Grace nodded again, taking a shaky breath as she stopped swinging. There was some clinking next to her as Mitch also stopped and stood up, stepping in front of her. Grace met his eyes, even if it was sheepishly through her eyelashes.

“Don’t do anything if it won’t go anywhere,” she pleaded. “I’d rather just… stop the conversation here if it’s not going to be long term, Mitchy.”

“Gracie… I want long term.”

Her eyes fell shut, Mitch disappearing behind them, as a smile lit up her face. Her eyes were still closed when Mitch’s hands covered hers on the swing’s chains and his lips brushed hers. It was fleeting, really, but enough for Grace to lean forward, chasing it when Mitch moved away.

“No,” she whispered. “Come back.”

Mitch abided with a longer and deeper kiss.

Please consider leaving feedback - reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

#mitch marner fic #mitch marner imagine #plus size hockey imagines #hockey rpf #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl fic #one shot

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hattywatch · 5 years

Text

Jeff Skinner - Home

A/n: Any time I ever think I am capable of writing a blurb, point me to this, right here. I had the idea for this before I wrote the part 2 to Back Road, but I couldn’t focus on two things at once, so this took a back seat since so many people asked for a sequel to Back Road! This is 13 pages, a little over 5k words and is CLEAN. Totally sfw.

Requested by my bae @hockeyandtaylorswift, and I would like to thank her and @xolilyxo for reading it and being my fav hockey biddies <3

“I can't keep staying with you guys. I feel like I'm living with an old married couple,” Jeff shimmies past Reino and gets to his seat at the kitchen island, where Eichel is leaning, munching on an apple and watching the toaster.

Jack grabs his bread from the toaster as it pops and Jeff watches as he slides open a drawer for a knife and switches spots with Sam to get to the fridge, neither of them thinking about the motion, it looks so practiced.

The way him and Sam move around each other in their apartment is so comfortable. It was really nice of them to ask if he needed a place to stay when he first moved to Buffalo, but it's going on a month now and he just wants a place to go home to that's his; with a spot on the couch that's his, and a mug that's his, and a bathroom cabinet that's filled with his stuff. He's sick of living out of a suitcase.

“Still haven't found anything, then?” Jack asks in between bites of toast while Jeff sips at his juice and shakes his head no.

Reino shuts the cabinet above his head after pulling a plate out of it and sliding his omelette onto it, “Eichs, you still have the number of the chick who found us this place? She was awesome.”

It's Jack's turn to shake his head as he scrolls through his contact list, “I don't think I do, maybe an email? I'll look through them later and see what I can find.”

Jeff nods and makes a mental note to remind him about it later; he's lived with his new teammates long enough to know that Jack's a scatterbrain about everything that isn't done on skates.

_______

You get the email late on a Monday while you're nestled into your couch with a glass of wine watching The Bachelor.

Hey (Y/N),

I wanna send a new teammate to you bc he's having trouble finding his own place and you really helped me out when I was looking. I lost your phone number but had your email so send me your number and I’ll have him set something up. He's sick of crashing with me and Sam lol.

Thanks,

Jack

You roll your eyes and scroll through your contact list to, Client Jack and text him:

It's me. Just got your email. Send him my way, I’d love to help.

_______

You get a text from a number that isn’t saved to your contacts two days after you responded to Jack’s e-mail.

Hi, I’m Jeff, Jack’s friend. He gave me your number and said that you’re the best realtor around. Do you think you could help me start looking for something this weekend? I have to get my own place before I kill a teammate 😑.

You call him, instead of responding to his text, because you’re a professional adult, and also you’re driving and that’s a dangerously high ticket that you don’t really want to deal with right now.

He sounds confused when he answers, with a whispered, “Hullo?”

“Hi, this is (Y/N) calling for Jeff?” You hear him scramble around a little, before he clears his throat, still speaking lowly but sounding a little more awake.

“Oh, yeah, hi! I didn’t think you’d get back to me so soon.” You laugh because your entire paycheck banks on you getting back to people as soon as possible and being at everyone’s beck and call 24 hours a day.

“I just wanted to set something up for this weekend. I already have a few places in mind I could show you. If you wanted to give me some times you’d be free I could schedule a few showings so we can find you a place before the season starts.” You hear him close a door and he finally raises his voice above a whisper.

“That’d be awesome, I love these guys, but I really need my own space asap. I’ll clear all weekend for you. This is my top priority right now.” He sounds tired and you smile, because you know enough about Jack to know he could be a little bit of a diva and honestly, bless Sam for being able to live with him. But you know it's tough to be thrown into it due to a trade or whatever Buffalo is doing right now, shaking up their team.

“I’ll text you a time for Saturday morning. We can meet at a Starbucks or something? I’ll drive, you’re new to the area, don’t want you getting lost! Does that work for you?”

“Sounds like a plan. See you Saturday.” You say goodbye and hang up. You make a mental note to look up this Jeff character, to see if you could get any information that may help you in finding him a home and so you know what you’re getting yourself into.

_______

You’re not exactly sure what you were expecting when you typed “Jeff Buffalo Sabres” into the Google search bar hours later, but what you found wasn’t it.

You learn the basics, that he was traded from Carolina, and like most hockey players- is from Canada. You click on a video, against your better judgement, and you hear voice, new but becoming familiar, giving canned answers about getting pucks on net and playing hard. What you didn’t expect to learn is that he’s adorable, positively boyish. His smile is wide and his eyes crinkle up with it. He seems like the type of person everyone wants to be friends with.

Quickly you close out of the window on your computer. As easy as he is on the eyes, this isn’t really productive to your pursuit of finding him the right apartment, and stalking is illegal in all 50 states.

_______

The next two days are a blur of showings with other clients and searches for apartments suited for one twenty-something male. You’re pleased that you find three to show him, and hope that he’ll take to at least one of them.

You send out a text Friday afternoon, telling him the time you’ll meet him and to be ready for you to knock his socks off.

Client Jeff: At this point I’d live in a box on the street to get my own space. It isn’t going to take much.

You send back a speak-no-evil monkey and the address of the Starbucks where you two plan on meeting.

_______

When Saturday morning comes, you’re grumpy to say the least. You try your best to get a lot of your showings done during the week to avoid the weekend traffic and get some time to sleep in, but you really liked Jack and Sam and don’t mind doing them the favor of helping their buddy out. Plus, who are you to say no to any new clients you can get.

You dress business casual; smart jeans and a navy-blazer over a plain white tee with some red flats, most of the apartments have stairs anyway. You also manage to get your ass into gear on time and are sitting drinking your coffee when you see Jeff stroll in, 2 minutes to 10.

Quickly, you realize he has no idea who he’s looking for, and you take a minute to observe him undisturbed. He looks around, presumably for you, and checks his phone, laughing at something before fast thumbs fire off a message. He walks up to the empty counter and orders his drink; you hear him say both “please” and “thank you” before he pays and throws his change into the tip jar. You decide you like him already.

When he moves to the other counter, waiting for his drink to be made, you decide to make yourself known. As you tidy up your table, your phone vibrates and you look down at your texts,

Client Jeff: I just realized I have no clue who I'm looking for. I'm here and wearing a Sabres sweatshirt if that helps?

After throwing out your trash, you step up behind him and tap him on the shoulder, “Jeff?” You ask it as a question, even though you know that he’s exactly who you’re looking for. He looks up from his phone and spins around with a media smile on his face, unsure of who he’s about to run into.

“Hi... (Y/N)?” he says with an unfailing smile, but crinkled and uncertain eyes. “Yes, that’s me,” you shake his outstretched hand, “Ready to find your new place?” His smile shifts a little and a dimple pops into his cheek, “You have no idea. Let’s go.” He grabs his drink off of the counter and follows you to your car.

_______

You keep the music on the light channel, soft pop playing from the speakers. Jeff seems content to drink his coffee and sit quietly in your passenger seat, but you’ve never really been one for silence.

“How have you been finding Buffalo so far?” He smiles again at your question, “It’s been good. The team’s really nice, the people who recognize me on the street have been really encouraging. It’s definitely a change in scenery and weather, but it’s closer to home.”

You’re happy to hear that Buffalo has been welcoming. Moving is tough, especially alone. “You enjoying living with Jack and Sam?” The light is red and you catch his eye and smile.

“They’re two of the greatest guys I’ve ever met. It was really awesome of them to let me stay as long as they have. They’d probably keep letting me, but they both have routines and I feel like I’m in the way. I just want my own space, ya know? Nothing against them.”

Nodding, you turn onto the block for the first apartment. “Well, I’ll do my best to help you out. I’m with you ‘til the end now.” He unbuckles his seatbelt as you pull over and put your car into park. You get out and open up your folder to give him the first listing. “This is a newer building. It’s really nice and they cater to a slightly more upscale client and have loads of amenities,” you tell him in the elevator on your way up to the unit.

“This place looks too nice for me, are you sure they’d even let me live here?” You laugh out loud at that, Jeff is clearly the kind of guy who holds up well under scrutiny, the kind of guy every parent wants their daughter to bring home, wholesome looking and polite.

“According to Jack, you’re about to be Buffalo’s golden boy. I’m sure they’d beg you to live here, Jeff.” A red flush rises from his neck straight up to his hairline. “I hope so,” he mumbles out as the elevator dings and he motions for you to exit first.

Outside of the unit, you do your best to feature dump and sell him on the place, “There’s a fitness center, a lounge, a study center, reserved parking, a concierge, 24 hour maintenance, and electronic keys, which is kind of cool. You’d basically be living in a hotel.” Waving the card in front of the knob, you can hear the mechanical whirring of the lock, indicating that the door is opening, so you step in and hold it open for Jeff.

He whistles low and walks past the kitchen through the dining area and into the living room. It’s your turn to laugh, “Okay… I’m guessing you don’t cook much then?”

He shakes his head, looking out of the windows that line the living room wall. “You’d be absolutely correct in that assumption.”

“Well then, not that you care, but these are granite countertops and they’re gorgeous,” you sweep your hand in a flourish towards the counters. He does his best to look sheepish and puts on a smile and nods, “They look…. Very nice?” He rocks back on his heels and shrugs a shoulder up.

“Thanks for trying. Don’t pretend to care for me, you’re the one who has to pick a place or keep living with the dynamic duo,” you smile snidely at his stricken face.

“No dishwasher though, which could be a downside for a guy living on his own,” you look at him thoughtfully, trying to figure out if he’s messy or tidy, as if you could tell from a cursory glance.

“I have siblings, we did chores growing up. I know how to clean up after myself,” you’d almost assign his tone as sassy, but he’s far too sweet for you to do anything but keep smiling at him at try to change the subject.

“No significant other will be living with you? I just realized I didn't ask, rude of me.”

“Nah,” He walks through to the bedroom, “I don’t have a girl right now.” He manages his own subject-change now, “One bedroom?”

You nod, “Uh, yes. Only one, but this building has it all; studios and units with one, two or three bedrooms! I didn’t consider that you may be having visitors. That’s my fault; I should have asked.”

He doesn’t let you berate yourself for long though, “I don’t know if I have a preference. My last place had an extra room and my family never wanted to leave, maybe this would be the hint they needed.” He winks and checks out the closet, laundry room, and bathroom before the tour is over and you get back to your car.

“Okay give me feedback? Love it, hate it? Is it missing something integral?” He buckles his seatbelt once more and looks over at you, “Honestly?” you nod and motion for him to continue.

He heaves a sigh and turns to make eye contact with you, “I have no idea what I’m looking for. When I got my last place I was so young and everything seemed awesome because it was all mine. This time around it’s so... different.” It’s an honest answer and you appreciate that, but it doesn’t really help you figure out if he’ll like the next two places any better than this one.

As you drive to the next apartment, you decide to do some digging, maybe it will help figure out what he's looking for. “You said you have siblings that visit, how many of you are there?”

He turns to look over at you, putting his coffee back in the cup holder, “There’s six of us, plus my parents.”

“Woooow” you let out as you flick your turn signal on. He’s polite and asks, “What about you, anyone come and crash at your place uninvited. Shaking your head, you tell him no, “I’m an only child. Probably better off that way. I can’t imagine having to share with five other people. I don’t think that’s my style.”

“I think if you're raised with it, it's different. You're just used to it.” You nod along because nurture versus nature and all that.

_______

The next two apartments aren't in buildings; one is the whole top floor of a house and the second is the main floor.

Jeff is polite, but you have been doing this a long time and you can tell he doesn't like them as much as the one inside of the complex, but he does seem to prefer the one on the top floor, with the extra bathroom and guest room. You watch as he takes in the dark hardwood floors, but wrinkles his nose at the downstairs apartment lacking a tub, and you start fleshing out a more robust image of what he’s looking for.

As you're driving him back to Starbucks to his car, you decide to ask again, “Okay, I don't expect you to know everything you like, but maybe if you see something on Pinterest or Instagram or anything that strikes your fancy, send it to me and I can get an idea of your tastes? I'm sure you'd prefer turn-key?”

“That's a really good idea. Give me your handle.” You spell out your Instagram name for him and your pocket vibrates with the notification. Your car crunches into the parking lot and Jeff adjusts the hat on his head, “Thanks, I know it's your job, but I really appreciate it. Jack and Sam try to help, but...” he trails off with a shrug.

Laughing, you assure him, “You don't have to tell me. I'm the one who spent 5 months finding them that place.” Jeff's eyes open wide and his smile dims, “5 months? I can't live with them for 5 more months.” You try to head him off at the pass.

“Jeff, if you promise to send me some more things that you like, I promise that I will not leave you stranded with Jack and Sam for 5 more months, deal?”

He opens the car door and gets out, leaning back in with that big smile sticking his hand out to shake. “It's a deal. Just text me whenever. I'm free all this week and next weekend. So if you want me to come see something, I'm all yours.”

You tell him will do and he hops in his car and starts it before you drive away.

_______

He doesn’t contact you for a few days. It’s Tuesday when you get a message late at night, snuggled deep into your bed watching old Friends reruns. The text makes your pillow vibrate and you tear your eyes away from Phoebe attempting to teach Joey French to unlock your screen.

When you see Jeff’s name you’re a little thrown off.

Client Jeff: I think I like this...

You wait, as you assume there’s an image that’s coming along with it.

When it finally comes, the photo is blurry but you make out a marble bathroom. It’s simple and stark white, offset by dark grey floors. It’s something to go on, albeit blurry and small, but it’s something.

Just tell me what it is that you like, and I can def go off of that.

The response comes quicker than you would have expected.

Client Jeff: Tbh, I’m a little drunk at one of Eichs friends house. Idk what I like. It’s clean and open? Different than living with a bunch of slobs I guess.

Before you can send a text back to him, your phone buzzes with another.

Client Jeff: I’m drunk texting my realtor. This is what it’s like being a grown up, huh?

You know that feel, that’s for sure, so you cut him a break and text him back.

Seemed a lot more glamorous as a kid, I know.

You fall asleep with your phone next to your pillow and your laptop on your nightstand, searching for open, bright, clean-lined bathrooms.

_______

After his drunk texts, Jeff opened up a little bit. He sent you tons of posts from @ApartmentTherapy, interspersed with some cute dogs, and funny memes. He started texting more frequently too, asking for restaurant recommendations in the city and making some small talk. You have similar taste in movies and TV, so you have a lot to talk about, but you didn't want to be the one to break the boundary, it's not professional. The second weekend you meet him for showings he has your coffee paid for and ready to go when you walk into the coffee shop.

He ends up breaking the boundary first. You assume it’s because you’re one of about 5 people he knows in the state. He's a really sweet guy, so it isn't like you mind at all. He suggests meeting at iHop for breakfast before your third weekend of showings in a row. It seems like a fine idea, you have to eat anyway and you really like talking to Jeff.

Breakfast is spent with him regaling you of his time training in the gym with Eichs and Reino earlier this week. His impression of Jack has you in stitches as you almost spit your coffee out across the table, smacking your hand over your mouth just in time. It sends him into his own peal of laughter, and ends with him face down on the table, pointing at you and silently laughing.

You head to the bathroom to fix your running mascara and he meets you at the door with your purse and tells you it’s on him when you try to shove money at him for your food.

_______

Obviously his house-mates have picked up on your new-found friendship. Jack had messaged you once to ask you to stop, as he deemed you interruptive to boys night.

Client Jack: Listen, I know you guys are like, besties now… but it’s guys night and we’re bowling and Jeff literally can’t stop looking at his phone. he’s really bringing the team down. I wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t on my team, fuck i’d prob encourage it. But tell him you’re going to bed or something so he can focus! Loser has to pick up the bar tabs, so you can understand where i’m coming from right now, (y/n).

You'd never admit it, but you smiled indulgently to yourself, pleased that Jeff really seemed to value you as a friend and not just someone he was forced to be in contact with.

Oh, so sorry that I’m ruining your night Jack. I’ll tell him I’m going to bed. At 830. On a Saturday.

Client Jack: That’s all i ask.

_____________

All the chatting helped though, each weekend you were able to fill your showings with apartments that were increasingly Jeff’s style. You both discovered that he was decidedly more modern; into clean lines and neutral colors.

You start meeting for breakfast every weekend before your first showing. It’s quickly coming up on two months before you even notice. You get along really well, so working the weekend is almost as enjoyable as your shared breakfasts. The two of you commiserate over summer months quickly coming to an end and laughing easily over people's decorating choices in apartments that are decidedly not the one.

The last listing you showed him had been especially cringe worthy, photographing way better than it looked in person. You step inside and instantly realize your mistake.

Jeff hadn't been looking up and barrels into the back of you, spewing red-faced apologies before he could even peel himself away from your back. “Sorry!” he has a hand wrapped around your waist to keep you from toppling forward under his bulk and you snort, because with his accent it comes out “sore-y” and that always gets you laughing.

You realize it before he does, the fact that his hand is still firmly wrapped around your middle, and you’re starting to get a little self conscious of the way you know your jeans are snug against your tummy under his hand. So you clear your throat and he apologizes again before removing his hand and keeping them firmly in his pockets. The tension doesn’t last long as you go through the rest of the apartment and laugh as Jeff raises his eyebrows at the shag carpet that is inexplicably in the bathroom, and you both hightail it out of there as soon as you can.

_______

It’s not out of the ordinary when he texts you late on a Friday night:

Jeff: After we go to the apartments tomorrow do you have any other clients?

You have been saving your Saturdays exclusively for Jeff's showings for the past two months, so you tell him that.

My Saturdays are solely dedicated to finding you a place to live, doll.

Did you find something specific you wanted to see?

Bubbles indicating he’s typing out his reply pop up, but it stops abruptly. They start and stop a few times, before a message finally comes through.

Jeff: Not an apartment, but there’s this new waffle house that just opened? We can change up our routine, lunch instead of breakfast...

Jeff: If you didn’t have anything else going on.

You don’t, and that sounds like the type of relaxed weekend that you’re into, so you peck out a reply.

Sounds like a plan.

You send it over and before you can stop yourself you send a smiley face too. _______

The next day you’re positive Jeff will take to one of these units.

They all have two bedrooms, which you've learned he leans towards, just in case his parents or a sibling decide to pop in. They are all turn key- painted and furnished (he hates furniture shopping and doesn't have the time to paint)- very sleek and modern, his preferred style.

Even better, all of them come with in unit laundry. He claims laundry is his favorite chore and prefers to do it himself rather than send it out. And to top it all off, one has a balcony off the master bedroom. You think he'll choose that one, but you don't want to jinx yourself.

When you get through all three without Jeff so much as considering placing an offer, you're confused at best and irked at worst. You know he needs to find a place soon and it’s starting to feel like you’ve shown him every apartment in Buffalo and its surrounding towns. You try to take it in stride, but it’s been two solid months of multiple showings every weekend and you just want a break from it.

The rational side of you also knows that it isn’t Jeff’s fault. It’s a very important purchase and you don’t want to rush him into something just because you want a lazy weekend, but you're still a little disappointed. Jeff drove to all of the listings, “to give you a break,” he had said. He even showed up with coffee and croissants to hold you over until you go to lunch- so you’re annoyed with yourself for being cranky when he’s been so lovely.

_______

You’re clearly doing a good job of hiding your disappointment, so he pulls up to the waffle house all smiles, the dimple on his right cheek digging straight into your heart, and you feel bad for ever being vexed with him. He hops out of the car and walks up to the door and even holds it open for you, holding 2 fingers up to the hostess.

Sitting in the booth bolsters your mood, unused to waiting until after the showings to eat. It smells like heaven, and you look over the menu, already sticky with syrup. Jeff is his happy self, nudging your foot under the table to get your attention.

“What are you getting?” You look up from the menu at Jeff's rosy face and shrug. You love that he's always blushing. He's never really shy with his emotions because he's so easy to read anyway. It seems like a freeing way to live.

“I'm not sure, there's a lot of options. Banana chocolate chip? Red velvet? What are you getting?” You take the time to nudge his foot back.

He confidently closes his menu, “Cinnamon roll, for sure. With bacon.”

You close your menu at the sight of the waitress approaching, “Okay then, red velvet it is. But I'm trying some of yours, too.” Jeff says 'obviously,’ like it's something that you guys always do, and isn't pushing the lines of a realtor/client relationship.

After you place your orders and the waitress returns with a carafe of coffee for you to split, you feel a happy warmth settle from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You take turns sharing the creamer and sit in a companionable silence before Jeff starts in.

“I’m so nervous for this season,” he stirs his coffee with a spoon distractedly, you see your opening to bring up his living situation, but he continues before you can interject. “D’you think you’d like to come to the opener?”

He sips his coffee with his eyes closed, and you wish you could make eye-contact with him. “Yeah, sounds like fun. I’ll make myself available.” His eyes open at that and he flushes from his neck up to his forehead.

“Did you think I’d say no or something,” he opens his mouth to answer you, but the waitress sets your plates down in between you so he stops. As soon as she walks away you lean over and steal a piece of bacon from Jeff’s plate.

He smiles and it’s wide and bright and beautiful, and as always- punctuated by a deep dimple. He won’t meet your eyes and spends way too long cutting into his fluffy waffles and dousing them with syrup that is surely not trainer approved, “Yeah, something like that.”

You’re halfway through your own plate, starting to get full and sated, when it starts to make sense, you’re spending every week together, bonding over movies and restaurant recommendations. You’re probably the person he’s spent the most time with since his big move. Jeff’s still plowing away through his own plate though, so you try your hand at subtly broaching the issue on your mind.

“Jeff,” he looks up mid-bite. “You know we’re like, kinda friends now right.” He looks like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t and he flames up again immediately.

“Are we?” You nod and stuff another bite of waffle into your mouth to keep yourself from smiling at his embarrassment. He draws in close to you, leaning over his plate.

“If put in an offer on the one with the terrace off the bedroom will you still hang out with me on weekends?” You perk up and lean back against the booth laughing at how dumb he is, nodding and trying to catch your breath.

“Yes you dope!” You have another bite on its way to your mouth when another piece of the puzzle clicks together. The waffle drops off of your fork as you try to control the volume of your voice, you want to yell but you manage to contain it down to a hiss, “Have you not been putting in offers on apartments because you have no better weekend plans, you jerk!?” He has a decency to look chagrined at being caught.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to keep talking to you after I found something,” he sputters out, shrugging.

“You could have just asked. I haven’t had a day off in months!” You steal another piece of his bacon, you feel like you’ve earned it at this point.

“Are you showing anything tomorrow? We could go out,” Jeff’s fork makes its way onto your plate, you barely notice; did he just-? He’s on it before you can respond.

“I mean- shit.” He takes a deep breath before putting his fork down onto the table with a metallic clank, “Fuck it, yeah tomorrow. What are you doing, let me take you out?” He’s so far from smooth and it’s so endearing you can’t help but smile.

“I’m helping a client place a bid on an apartment. Really nice, eat-in-kitchen and a balcony off the master. Then I have a date, I think? Nice guy, kinda slow, but he’s cute. Lots of curb-appeal, if you catch my drift.”

Jeff’s smile is beatific, “You’re not so quick yourself, so it’s probably a perfect match.” You kick him under the table without malice, too wrapped up in the sugary sweet fullness from lunch and his warm gaze.

“I’m starting to think he’s a fixer-upper. Luckily I’ve got some time.”

#jeff skinner #jeff skinner fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #buffalo sabres fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #jeff skinner imagine #plus size hockey imagines #i have been working on this 5 EVER #writing

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thirst-trapnhl · 5 years

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The Borderline(brandon carlo)

(A/N): I’m soo thrilled to finally put this out into the world. I absolutely adore monte and I was so seriously inspired and thrilled by @babrielandeskog‘s ‘High Above Me’ and fell super in love with the idea of him with a plus sized lady. Hope you enjoy and thank you to the wonderful @cantevenskate for the editing and sweet words. Title is from Ariana Grande’s “borderline” (word count: 4241)

Warnings: sexy times, plus size reader/discussion of insecurities

You’re barely into the first 15 minutes of whatever movie Brandon’s put on before he grabs the remote and pauses it, turning to you with expectant eyes. “Why’d you pause it?” Your fingers fidget with the half empty beer bottle in your hand.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bugging you? You haven’t stopped moving since, like, the second you got here.” You feel yourself flush at the call out; you didn’t think you were that noticeable. You let out a little huff of breath, looking up at the ceiling and you can feel your resolve crumble just a little bit when you see Brandon’s small smile out of the corner of your eye.

“C’mooooon, you know you wanna tell me.” He’s looking at you now with a smug little face, like he knows you’ll give in. And you do, because you’re a sucker for him and you always have been.

You put your beer down on the side table next to you and begin to curl your legs under you, turning towards him on the couch. “Ok, well, I’ve just been really worried this week, I don’t have a date for my cousin’s wedding, I don’t even have a dress, everythingItryonlookslikecrapandI’msickofhatinghowIlook.” His eyes go wide as he tries his best to follow, by the end of your outburst you’re speaking so fast that he’s not sure he caught it all. “Hey, hey, (Y/N), calm down,” he reaches a soothing hand out to pat at your leg, “let’s go through that one at a time, yeah?” You can’t help but pout, feeling sort of silly for even bringing this up to him at all. “First things first, can you please stop staring at the ceiling and look at me?” There’s a little chuckle to his voice but when you finally bring your eyes down to meet his, there’s nothing mocking on his face. He asks when your cousin’s wedding is, and you give him the date, two weeks from tomorrow, and his brow furrows. “Why didn’t you just ask me? I’d love to go with you.” A breath of relief leaves your lungs.

“I didn’t wanna be a burden, but if you’re sure, it’d be so awesome if you came.”He looks at you like you’re ridiculous, eyebrows up and lips pursed, “Of course I’ll come with you. Now that that’s settled, what’s the problem with the dress?” The tips of your ears burn at the thought of spilling your insecurities out to your, objectively gorgeous, Professional-Athlete-Hot best friend, but you know it’s way too late to tell him to forget it. You square your shoulders and take a deep breath, pretending like it’ll somehow make you brave enough to say the next sentence without the embarrassment pooling in your stomach.

“I can’t find anything to wear because every dress I try on doesn’t fit right or it makes me look like the mother of the bride.” He takes his phone from his pocket before you’re even done with the sentence.

“First of all, I’m sure you looked great in plenty of things, but I’m texting Jodie, the woman who helps the team pick suits. I’m sure she’ll have some suggestions.” You feel relief sink into your shoulders for a brief second before the tension returns with a vengeance.

“Bran, I’m sure she’d be helpful, but I am on a budget here.” He looks at you like you’re silly, the same look he gives you when you try to sneak cash to the waitress to cover the bill when you go out.

“If you find something you love, you know I’d love to get it for you. Honestly, consider it a loan that you’ll pay back in cooking dinner when we hang out.” You roll your eyes, huffing a breath out toward the ceiling. You look back at him grimly.

“Seriously?” He nods in earnest, like it’d really be a pleasure, and you finally give in, making a deal to yourself to still not pick out anything too over the top. “Now, can we put the movie back on? I’ve been waiting weeks to see it.” He grabs the remote from beside him and sets his shoulders square to the TV once again with a smug little look on his face, leaving you no choice but to push the whole ordeal to the side and turn your attention to the action on the screen.

Only two days pass by before your appointment with Jodie. You’ve agreed to meet at the big Nordstrom by your apartment and you’re 10 minutes early, so you’re surprised to find her already waiting for you, but even more surprised to see Brandon at her side, leaning against a jewelry case directly in front of the door. He sees you first, a wide smile spreading across his face. “There she is!” he moves to greet you and you stop just short of his arm span.

“B, what are you doing here?” You’re a little insecure at the thought of trying things on in front of him, scared of what happens when something doesn’t look the way you want it to. He grabs at your forearms and pulls you in, wrapping your hands around his waist before letting go to move his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m your date, (Y/N), and I’m paying. I figured we’d find you a dress and buy me a tie to match all in one go,” he’s excited to let you go and introduce you to Jodie, a classy and elegant woman who shakes your hand and gives you a knowing look when she notices that Brandon still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder paired with the flush creeping down your neck.

You end up trying on a couple of dresses, none of them too expensive or unflattering, and not at all to your surprise, Brandon is attentive and thoughtful when you come out of the dressing room every time. You’ve all agreed the purple anthropologie dress is the front runner, but Brandon can tell that you haven’t fallen in love with it. “Hey, Jodie, do we have anything blue?” He eyes the dresses she has in her hands to try next while she looks back at the rack she’s pulled before heading to the end of the options and holding up a bright blue dress to Brandon for inspection. He nods enthusiastically at her and she turns to knock on your fitting room door. “(Y/N), how about you try this one?” You call out an “okay!” and slip your hand through the door to grab the hanger. You slip it on and before you can even ask Jodie to come in to zip it up, you know it’s the one. You open the door wide, striking a silly pose, hand on your hip.

“Jodie, you’re an absolute legend.” She laughs, circling you to pull the zipper up.“Actually, Brandon suggested it.” You feel your cheeks flush as you look up at him, his crinkly eyes and full smile already directed at you, and it’s honestly contagious. Your voice is more timid than you expect when you open your mouth, smoothing your hands over the front.

“What do you think?”

He’s still smiling up at you, eyes crinkled just a little when he says, “You look wonderful,” and it’s hard to deny the way your stomach twists in on itself. It’s not until you’re back in the fitting room, in front of the mirror in your bra and underwear that you can settle your heartbeat; your reflection, with all its curves and dips and extra fluff serve as a reminder that this is something you can’t have. It’s not that you’re unattractive, or that you haven’t hooked up with hot guys before, but Brandon is a professional athlete, an objectively beautiful one at that. You’ve seen the girls he’s pulled at bars and parties and the girls who’ve sent him DMs on instagram, and you can’t bring yourself to think that you compare to them, no matter how much self confidence you’ve managed to build up over the years. He’s your best friend, a wonderful one at that, and you consider yourself lucky to even get to have him in your life, but it’s hard not to want when he looks at you like you’re something wonderful and special. You decide you can’t dwell any longer, pulling your clothes back on and meeting Brandon and Jodie in the waiting area.

“I’ve picked out some shoes and jewelry options for the dress, you can pick and we can be on our way.” You end up going with nude slingbacks and a beautiful drop necklace that hangs right at the center of your chest and Brandon rubs his hand soothingly down your arm when he feels you tense at the sight of him handing over his credit card.

Brandon arrives at your door at 6:00PM on the dot, and you’re about to tell him to give you one minute and you’ll be ready but you’re stopped in your tracks at the sight of him. You’re no stranger to how good Brandon looks in a suit, and it’s still a glorious sight to see, but you’re more focused on the giant bouquet in his hands. Once you finally peel your eyes off the white flowers and find his face, he’s giving you that same look as he did in the dressing room, the one that made your insides gooey, and you manage to stutter out a “uh, hey.” He laughs and moves to come in, walking past you to the kitchen.

“Go put your shoes on, I’m gonna put these in water.” You give yourself a moment to watch him maneuver through your space like he belongs there, like it’s his space too, before turning to walk back into your bedroom to grab your belongings and order your Uber. You take a deep breath to collect yourself before slipping on your shoes and jacket and giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror. You mean to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror, just a ‘you can do this, you can go to a wedding with your absolutely gorgeous best friend and it’ll be 100% fine and not at all weird’ but you just end up replaying the little moments you’ve spent with Brandon in the past 2 weeks. The way he offered his time up to be your date, all the genuine and thoughtful comments and compliments he’d given you while trying on dresses, the way he watched you from the hallway just now. It’s a little overwhelming and you end up having to shake your head to move past the thoughts.

Brandon’s leaning against your kitchen counter when you reenter the room, fiddling with his watch and when he looks up, time stops a little. He’s gorgeous, in a really obvious way, but that’s not what makes your breath catch in your chest. What was once a silly little crush on your best friend has turned into something else entirely. You really can’t tell how long you stand there staring at each other before your phone dings with a text, breaking the moment. It’s your uber, and you grab your keys from the table as Brandon follows you out, waiting as you lock the door behind you. It’s comfortably silent between the two of you as you get into the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. The doors slide closed and you look over at him. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and a soft, content smile is laid across his lips. “Thank you,” his eyes flit to meet yours, “for coming with me. And for the dress. And the flowers.” His elbow bumps you gently.

“Of course, I’ve got you. Always.” You let out a gentle breath somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle and lead him out the elevator doors to the lobby. The uber ride is short and you mostly spend it going over your family’s names with Brandon. When you finally enter the reception, you lead him to your table, introducing him to all the aunts and cousins who stop you on the way. Brandon’s wonderful about it all, of course, charming your whole family pretty much instantly and it’s just so nice. Nice to have someone to check in with you during the night, someone to murmur under your breath with during bridesmaids speeches. Someone to lean your back into in the dinner line and someone to laugh at all your drunk cousins’ dancing with. At some point, the thought crosses your mind that anything you get to do with Brandon is nice, but you shove that down as quickly as it came up when you hear Brandon’s favorite song come on. You drag him to the dance floor and he pretends to be upset about it until the chorus drops and he busts out some weird, dorky version of the twist. You throw your head back laughing and the warmth in your chest feels so good that you can’t do anything but accept it.

The end of the night finds you in the back of another uber, you and Brandon closer in the backseat than you were on the way there. A big hand comes to rest right above your knee and you turn to look at him. “Did you have fun?” he asks, and you nod.“Thank you again for coming.” His fingers squeeze around your leg a little bit.

“Anything for you.” A blush spreads across your face at that, and only intensifies when you realize Brandon is still looking you directly in the eyes, all soft and fond. Oh, fuck is the only thing that crosses your mind when you’re hit with the sudden realization that Brandon’s put the ball in your court today. Everything; the dress, the flowers, the casual hand on your back all day, all of it was him laying his cards on the table and, in the backseat of this uber, he’s waiting for you to lay out yours. You swallow hard, and look up at him a little through your eyelashes.

“You gonna come inside for a little? I have new K-cups.” He finally breaks eye contact to bow his head in laughter before relaxing a little further into his seat.

“Yeah, I’ll come up to test out some K-cups.” You settle back into silence after you reply with a “cool.” He keeps his hand on your knee the rest of the way home.

You leave the uber and make your way up to your apartment with Brandon’s hand on the small of your back and you’re sure he can feel the way your whole body’s burning with his touch. Unlocking your door while you’re acutely aware of Brandon’s body hovering closer to yours than usual is no easy feat, but when you swing the door open and he follows you in, everything seems a little more normal. You slip off your shoes and jackets, and he slides onto one of the stools at your kitchen island and loosens his tie while you turn to rifle through your coffee collection. “Ok, we’ve got Southern Pecan, Brown Sugar Crumble, Salted Caramel, or boring, plain old French Roast.”

He laughs at your obvious distaste for non-flavored coffee and chooses the pecan flavor, telling you “it’s the only fun option you have that would be even close to approved for my meal plan.” You stick your tongue out at him, used to his teasing about your sweet tooth. You place a mug for him under the machine and turn to face him, bracing your elbows on the counter.

“The flowers really are beautiful, B.” You can see the flush creeping up his neck as he clears his throat to speak.“Well, Bergy told me I couldn’t show up for a date without flowers, so he gave me his florist’s card.” You laugh at his forwardness, relieved that the tip-toeing feeling is gone.

“This was a date, was it?” You smile up at him as he stands and makes his way around the counter to stand in front of you.“Yup!” He pops the “p” and his big hands go to grab yours as you answer. “A little heads up would have been nice.” His head is bending down to meet yours and you simultaneously feel like this can’t possibly be real life and like this is exactly where you knew your friendship with Brandon was heading all along.

“How’s this for heads up: I’m going to kiss you now.” A breathless giggle leaves your mouth and you press up onto your toes, meeting his mouth half way. His hands let go of yours and wind their way around your waist as you let your fingers trace up his chest and neck to wrap around his jaw. He presses your bodies closer together and you pull away just enough to look at him. His eyelashes are resting against his cheeks and his mouth is open just slightly, lips pink and wet. Just as his eyes flutter open, you pull him down to kiss you again, licking at his bottom lip. You stay like that for a while, too caught up exploring each other’s mouths to realize you’re just standing in your kitchen. The beep of the coffee machine pulls you away from each other and you can feel his chest shake with laughter under your hands. “Go change into your pajamas and take your makeup off, I’ll make you a salted caramel coffee.” He plants a kiss to the top of your head before turning towards your coffee machine and when you walk into your bedroom, you could swear you’re floating. You get through your nightly routine, slipping into sleep shorts and a big tshirt and some fuzzy socks.

When you return to Brandon, bare faced and hair up, he’s sitting in the very middle of your couch with two cups of coffee on the table in front of him. “What are you, taking up the whole couch so I’m forced to sit next to you?” He looks to both his left and right before beaming up at you.

“Well, will ya look at that. Looks like you’re gonna have to snuggle up!” You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit sideways facing him, your legs thrown over his thighs. He hands you your mug and you let out an appreciative hum at the warmth radiating through your hands.

“So,” you take a long sip before continuing, “when did you realize you had a big crush on me?” Brandon smiles bright at your teasing and rests his arms on your bent knees.

“You remember the first time you met the team? And Marchy told the guys to stop embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend?” You nod and he continues. “I realized I didn’t wanna correct him. I was just so relieved that none of them would try to hit on you in front of me.” You rest your head against his arm draped across the couch and scoot a little closer to his body.

“None of them are my type, don’t you worry.” He laughs a little before leaning forward to put his coffee on the table.“Your turn.” You motion for him to put your mug next to his on the table while you pretend to think.

“Let’s see, hmm. It had to be like the second I saw you, pretty much? Like, have you seen yourself?” One of his hands slides down your thigh into your lap and you begin to play with his fingers.

“We make a pretty hot couple, if I do say so myself.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes a little but lean in closer to him. “Tell me more about how hot I am, please.” He smiles as his brings his face to yours, noses bumping.

“Well, your lips,” he kisses you short and sweet, “always look so pretty wrapped around a bottle, or pouting up at me to get your way, or when you’re trying not to smile when Anders says something stupid.” He noses down your jaw and lets his lips trace your neck to kiss at your collarbones. “And your chest drives me crazy when we go out and you wear that tank top with the sparkles, and when I come over in the morning and I can tell you’re not wearing a bra under that sweatshirt you stole from me.” You go to protest that, ready to say that he left the sweatshirt in question at your apartment, but Brandon surprises you by pulling you fully into his lap, a knee on either side of his thighs. His hands travel from where he’s grabbed you around your waist, down to your hips where his thumbs press into the crease above your thighs. “I love to watch you dance at the bar. You move your hips and it’s like all I can think about is pressing myself up against them. How soft you’d feel under my fingers, how your legs would look wrapped around me.” You grab the sides of his face, drawing his gaze up to yours.

“I didn’t know you liked, uh, bigger girls like that.” His gaze goes dark and you don’t know what you’re expecting him to say but it’s certainly not “I like you like that. It wouldn’t matter to me if you were 100 or 400 pounds. Everything about you is what I’m into.” Every ounce of self restraint you may have had melts at that and you lean to kiss him again, this time grinding into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you at the same time his fingertips really dig in to the meat at your hips and you let yourself sink further into his chest. Brandon pulls away first, tugging at your t-shirt hem until you sit up, allowing him to peel it off and over your head.

His hands cup both breasts, thumbs brushing over your already peaked nipples. “So fucking hot, (Y/N), my perfect girl,” he dips his head down to lick at one and then the other and your head spins at the sight of him with his mouth on your tits.

“Fuck, B, please,” he wraps his lips fully around a nipple at your encouragement, fingers still brushing against the other. You’re too worked up at this point, panting above him and you can feel how wet you are with every tiny movement. “Please, Bran, I want you inside me.” He groans a little at that, head tipping back to rest against the couch, and you take that as your moment to get your feet on the ground so you can slide your shorts off. Stepping out of them when they reach your ankles, you pull on the leg of Brandon’s pants as he unbuckles his belt and unzips. You manage to get them past his knees before seating yourself back in his lap just past where his cock is straining against his underwear. You slip a hand into his boxer briefs to run your fingers along his shaft and he lets out a deep moan.

“You gonna ride me, baby? Wanna watch you so bad.” You scramble to the drawer in the nearby bathroom to find a condom and when you return successful, your mouth waters at the sight of Brandon spread out on your couch shirtless with his dick in his hand.

“As much as I wanna get on my knees and suck your dick right now,” Brandon closes his eyes at the thought, “I need you inside me way more.” He snorts out a laugh and pats his thighs, signaling you to climb back on. You both moan at the sight of you rolling the condom over him and you don’t waste time lining him up against your folds and sinking down. You stay like that, unmoving with your foreheads pressed together, feeling each other’s breath while you adjust and it isn’t long until your hips start to roll on their own accord, the press of him against your walls too good to resist.

“Fuck yeah, babe, just like that,” he guides your hips against him before his hands travel to your ass, gripping and squeezing to feel the way it bounces when he lets go. One of your hands travels from his shoulders down to your clit, rubbing circles in time with your movements and it’s not long before you feel yourself clench around him. Warmth spreads across every inch of your body and Brandon follows soon after, thrusting up to meet you as you ride the aftershock of your orgasm. When you both finally still, he slides out of you and ties the condom behind your back as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. A hand comes to rub soothingly up and down your back and Brandon can feel you smile against the skin of his chest. You finally bring yourself to peel yourself off of him to clean up, and the feeling of his eyes burning into you as you move around your apartment naked is almost enough to get you going again. You return to him, curling up against his side once more before looking up at him.

“You were right,” he cocks an eyebrow in question and you smile teasingly up at him. “We do make a pretty hot couple.”

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