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andreafmn · 1 year

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Hello I see your taking request again ! I’m so happy It’s been sooo long hope your doing well !?!

Can you write a reader x jasper

Reader is a vampire she has been with the cullens for ever like before Alice and jasper got there !

She’s as cool as a cucumber like no one has ever seen her mad

Well once edwards started seeing Bella and being a diva he makes a comment about jasper and reader loses it like full on throws him through a wall lol

Everyone is super shocked because they’ve never seen her like that and emmitts booming voice in the back round saying well never talk shit about jasper in front of reader again

everyone nods in agreement and jasper just looks at reader and says I love when your defending me love but let’s not put anymore people through a wall and everyone laughs

Word Count: 3K

Story Description: (Y/N) Cullen might be even-tempered and calm by nature. But when it came to her partner, no one gets by unscathed. Not even her own family.

A/N: I know I took forever to post this request, but I always take forever for everything 😅 though I hope you enjoy and that I did your request honor, anon. My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing🥺👉👈. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Karmic Retribution

There were certain unspoken rules to being a Cullen.

One of the worst ones, the oldest made all the decisions. This meant that, more often than not, Carlisle and Edward were the ones to determine the outcome for the family. And to that point, it had been fine. There was never anything truly holding them down to any place in particular, and they could travel any time they wanted.

(Y/N) was fine with that to an extent. She was on the same level as Edward in terms of age, and sometimes she felt she should have more leverage in family decisions than she had. But she had always been quiet, keeping her anger always at bay. And it helped that she had Jasper by her side.

Their connection was almost instantaneous.

When the messy bundle of blond curls walked into their home in Calgary, she knew he’d turn her whole life around. They grew close quickly. Spending almost every moment by each other’s side. (Y/N) could not remember her life before she met Jasper Whitlock. As time passed, the memory of her time without him seemed more and more like a dream rather than her past. To her, he had been there forever.

Though she did not have any special abilities, everything about her was extraordinary to Jasper. She became his lifeline, the only thing to keep him afloat when he felt like drowning. Because most days he felt his head was always just barely above water. Treading on the line between fighting his animalistic instincts and his new family’s peculiar lifestyle.

(Y/N) could do to him what he was able to do for everyone else. She could read his emotions before he had a chance to name them, and she somehow found a way to make him calm and tranquil. She was everything he did not know he needed.

He had been afraid to tell her of his past. How he’d fought for the confederacy and had built and led an army of newborns in the south. He was ashamed of the lives he had taken, the people he had turned and promised eternity to in exchange for their loyalty, only to dispose of them one year later. All for what he thought was love. Jasper was frightened that the second he confessed to the sins of his past, (Y/N) would forsake him and push him aside.

Instead, he was met with a wave of compassion that washed over him. As his eyes stung from dry tears, (Y/N) provided him with a smile that he was sure could warm his frozen body. She placed a comforting hand on his cheek and gave his lips a soft kiss.

“Our pasts do not define the people we are today,” she had told him, nothing but love in her eyes. “The reason we are who we are now is because we have moved forward from what we did yesterday. You don’t need my forgiveness, my love. For the man I know now will never be the same as the man that was. What you need is to forgive yourself.”

At that moment, Jasper knew that his search was finally over. Though he still struggled with his hunger and considered himself a dangerous man, he’d found the person that could love him completely. A woman that had taken one look at the scars of his past — literally and figuratively — and, instead of recoiling in fear and disgust, had placed a kiss upon them and filled them with love and compassion.

“Do you know how lucky I am, darling?” Jasper had told her one day as they lay in a clearing somewhere in the snowy surroundings of Alaska.

“Is that so?” (Y/N) chuckled. Her fingers traced the stitching of the vest he wore, her head pressed against his chest wondering what his heartbeat could have sounded like. “I’d like to think I’m the one that is lucky. How many years did I spend on my own, waiting on my forever? Then you show up, with Alice in tow, and you change our family for the better. And now, I have someone to walk through life until the end of time.”

“Life is funny that way, huh,” he smiled. “And that is precisely what I wanted to speak to you about. I know our journey is seemingly endless and certain mundane things don’t particularly mean as much as eternity. But there is something that I want more than anything — mostly as a symbol of how much I love you. Because in this life and the next I want nothing more than to spend it by your side. So I ask you, (Y/N), would you do me the absolute honor of allowing me to be your husband?”

“For as long as love lives between us, yes. A thousand times yes.”

A wedding was such a monumental event for humans. For beings that stood the trials of time, it was a symbol of commitment. A way to bind their lives with something other than words. A simple promise made in the presence of the people they valued above everything else. That they were making the choice to intertwine their lives in all ways, regardless of any circumstances.

The event had been small, much to Alice’s dismay. The pair simply wanted their family and a few friends in attendance. Their love needed no impressive show, it simply was, and that’s how they wanted it.

In the family, they kept their heads low and out of the way. It was futile to insist on having more of a voice when it came to the decisions of the family. To that point, they had no quarrels with the choices the patriarch had determined for the clan.

Keeping to themselves allowed (Y/N) and Jasper to form a bond like no other. They didn’t need Edward’s mind reading to be able to hear the other’s thoughts; didn’t need Alice’s foretelling to know their life would be live and full of life. The couple had created the perfect balance between themselves and orbited around the family. Still, it was them against the world.

Jasper being the youngest — at least considered that way for being the last to join the family — was often the target for many quips in the family. From his stoic stare to his short fuse when it came to human blood, the blond would often be the butt of the joke. And it never seemed to anger him. He’d chuckle from time to time or roll his eyes at any lines that went just a little too far. But he never defended himself or asked them to stop.

His efforts were centered on keeping (Y/N)’s anger toward the family at bay. Though she was calm by nature, she despised the way their adoptive brothers picked Jasper apart. How they would jokingly criticize something the man could not control. It was often a topic of discussion when the pair enjoyed a rare moment of privacy.

“I’m going to squash them,” she huffed. “Are they not tired of the same jokes? Is there even an original thought in their heads?”

“There’s no need to worry your pretty little head over them, darling,” Jasper chuckled, placing a comforting kiss on her head. “I’m used to it by now.”

“But you shouldn’t be! Every day you work your hardest to control yourself around humans and I know how painful it can be for you. Then Tangina and Schwarzenegger come in and tell the same stupid jokes over and over again,” she exclaimed. (Y/N)’s arms flew up in frustration earning a chuckle from the man as he stared at her from where he lay. “It’s not funny, Jasper. One of these days I’m gonna blow and you’re not gonna be able to calm me down.”

“As much as I would love to see you say your piece to Edward and Emmett, I assure you I do not mind.” He took her hands in his, kissing the knuckles gingerly. “Their words do not affect me, darling. The only person whose approval I care for is yours.”

“And that you will have until the end of time.”

And that was the case for the next couple of years. Whenever they’d reach a new town the other two Cullen teens would joke about how Jasper could snap at any moment, and he’d wreak havoc in the city. They would say pick on him and laugh at him. The worst part, he simply took it, much to (Y/N)’s dismay.

She would grow angry, he would temper her emotions, she would complain about their brothers’ treatment behind their backs, and he would say it was fine. But it shouldn’t have been fine. He should never have gotten used to the unnecessary mean jokes from the older boys.

When they settled in Forks, (Y/N) already knew the cycle. New town, same jokes. The only difference this time, Edward grew obsessed with a particular human.

The day he’d come home from school muttering how he needed to leave for some time and hole himself up in Alaska, (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. There was Mr. Jasper-can’t-control-himself at the end of a downpour of blood frenzy. Everything he had jabbed at her partner with had come back to bite him.

She had laughed with Jasper that night, the jokes laced with actual worry that Edward would be the one to snap and attack a human. But the karmic retaliation had been far too exquisite for her to remain concerned. Revenge was always a very tasty treat.

But her small victory had not lasted long.

Only a week later, Edward had come back home with a recharged confidence. His woes about hurting Isabella Swan had died in a matter of seven days and he was ready to throw a hundred and ten percent toward forming a connection with the frail human.

And with Edward’s presence coming back, so did the overused jokes.

It had been a sunny afternoon in Washington and all the Cullens were stuck inside the house. Most of the morning had been uneventful, each of the family members reclused in their own rooms. The house was quiet and tranquil, peaceful. But that never lasted long. Especially when they were all home.

“So, Edward, this Bella chick is kind of… different, huh?” Emmett commented, his typical goofy grin spreading across his face. “But don’t you think it’s kinda dumb to get involved with a human?”

“Yeah, it might be,” he chuckled. “But it would be dumb of me to not even try. There’s just something about her that’s… intoxicating.”

“Yeah, it’s called human blood,” Rosalie spat. “Because she’s a human, Edward. The worst thing you could do is get involved with her. It could put her in danger. It can put all of us in danger.”

“There’s nothing wrong with testing the waters though,” he debated. “There’s truly something about her that calls to me. I need to see what it is.”

Anger had started sprouting inside (Y/N) as she listened to her family discuss the sudden apparition of Bella in their lives thanks to their adoptive brother. The cold that ran through her veins suddenly started growing warm, consuming her from the inside out. Not even the hand that Jasper had placed lovingly on the low of her back was enough to dissuade the ire that was taking over her.

“We’ve pretended to be humans for decades; I think I can do it for a couple of months with Bella. I just… I need to get to know her,” Edward continued. “I need to at least try.”

“And what will you do when she starts asking questions?” (Y/N) interjected. “How will you explain the cold skin? The fact that you don’t eat? The fact that you turn into a disco ball under the sun? How will you refrain from telling her you are a vampire?”

“I simply won’t tell her, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “It’s not that hard to not mention the fact that my family and I are a bunch of supernatural vampires.”

“You can’t even read her mind, Ed. How will you know she’s not coming up with conclusions on her own?”

“God, we can sit here a debate all night long on why it’s a bad idea for me to get in any way, shape, or form to get involved with Bella,” he retorted. “But it’s not really a family decision. I’m gonna see where things go with her, regardless of what any of you think.”

“So, you’re willing to put our family – our whole species – in danger, for a seventeen-year-old you met a couple of weeks ago?” (Y/N) questioned. Jasper was failing to calm her down. He could feel the angry red monster taking over her mind as she debated with Edward. Her emotions were taking over her reason and he could do nothing to help her. “I can’t believe you could be that reckless and selfish. Our entire existence depends on us being careful and guarding our secrets with our lives, especially in this town. If the Volturi don’t get you, I’m sure the wolves would be more than ready to put you in your place for breaking the treaty.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N),” he laughed dryly. Everyone could tell he wasn’t taking the dangers seriously, he was not taking her seriously. To the older boy, it was merely a conversation. “If there’s anyone we should worry about recklessly exposing our secret is mister short fuse over there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That it only takes something as little as a prick on a finger and fidgety Jasper will be pouncing on a human. The safest way for any of us to keep the secret is for you to keep a short leash on your husband.”

Edward had once vowed to not use his ability on his family unless absolutely necessary, and he had always kept that promise. That afternoon, he regretted it.

As everyone laughed at his taunting joke, (Y/N)’s emotions reached their peak. Her eyes had grown darker, and her hands had balled into fists. She couldn’t resist the wrath that had taken over her. All she could see was red.

One second, the family was enjoying the gag against the Cullen. The next, (Y/N) had pushed Edward hard enough to go through a wall in their picturesque living room. Dust filled the area, fragments of the wall thudding against the wall, falling around the boy. A mix of glass, wood, and gypsum board had scattered around Edward’s body, his body coated in a fine layer of dust.

The same expression of shock washed over each of the family members, astonished at the sight in front of them. Calm-mannered and good-natured (Y/N) had finally reached her boiling point. For centuries, she had always been able to keep herself emotionally balanced, even without Jasper. None of them thought there would come a day when they would see her temperament break.

Her chest was heaving, her nostrils flared, and her hands still stretched in front of her. She wasn’t breathing, instead, she was letting out every ounce of fury that still burned inside her. In a split second, she regained her composure. (Y/N) smoothed down her clothes and her usual smile spread across her face.

Silence spread across the room, the kind that was enough to deafen ear drums. It was tense and uncomfortable, filled with a type of discord they had never witnessed between them before.

“I think we can all agree that all jokes about Jasper’s, uh, condition shall only be done in private or inside our heads,” Emmett’s voice sliced through the silence, his voice booming and reverberating against the walls. “That was… unexpected.”

“But we can all say it’s a long time coming,” Jasper grinned, turning his attention to the woman he proudly called his wife. “And, darling, as much as I love that you’re defending me, I think it’s best we don’t put more people through walls. Alright, love?”

“I guess that’s doable,” she smiled.

The rest of the siblings broke into laughter. All but Edward that wore a scowl on his face as he wiped away the white dust from his face. (Y/N) couldn’t help the pride that swelled in her chest. After years of biting her tongue and holding back her feelings, it felt exceptional to finally shut Edward up.

“Well, Edward, it seems you and Emmett will have to set aside some time to fix that wall,” Carlisle grinned. “Can’t have your new girlfriend coming over and seeing a person-shaped hole in our new living room.”

“Why do I have to do it? (Y/N)’s the one that pushed me!”

“Let’s call it your apology for taunting Jasper for the past few decades,” Esme responded before joining her retreating husband. “Now get to it, boys.”

“How is that fair?”

“What can I say, Eddie boy?” (Y/N) grinned. “Karma’s a bitch.”

Jasper and (Y/N) promptly sped outside, needing a moment to themselves after the chaotic scene that unfolded. When they reached the clearing they often sneaked out to, the blond wrapped his wife in his arms and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

“I can’t thank you enough for defending my honor,” he smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “Though I can’t say Edward didn’t deserve it, maybe next time we can try to use our words rather than our hands.”

“I’m offended, Major. It was a calculated reaction after years of bullying.”

“(Y/N),” he lovingly reprimanded. “You know better than that.”

“Alright, love. I promise I won’t throw Edward into a wall ever again,” she smiled, pecking his lips. “But I can’t promise I won’t find other ways to get even.”

“I would never expect less.”

At that moment, everything was perfect. Nothing and no one could ever have predicted that in less than a year Bella Swan would infiltrate their family, that all the quips against Jasper would accidentally turn into reality, and that life as the Cullens knew it would drastically be altered.

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residenthughes · 3 months

Text

coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

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sweettomyhoney · 6 months

Note

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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bitchinbarzal · 7 months

Text

Already Pregnant | Nico & Mama — Life of Iris

warning: smut 18+ ONLY

It was completely innocent. You’d woken up in the morning and noticed the bump was bigger and decided to send a picture to Nico and show him.

The picture was you, side on in your wardrobe mirror. Your sweatpants were lowered to rest below the bump and you had nothing on top, your breasts bare while your hand cupped the bottom of your bump and the other took the photo.

The merely innocent image had Nico’s cock pressed tight against his suit trousers as they took off from Calgary. While you were intending to show him your growing baby boy he noticed other things; how your nipples were hard, how your boobs had also grown along with your belly, the belly currently growing your second baby.

He simply replied to the text

in love with you.

You looked at his message contently, rubbing your bump and mumbling “Daddy’s coming home”

Nico arrived just after dinner, coming through the door and announcing “where’s my girl?”

You looked up from your pasta bowl “Iris is at the Barzal’s for the night”

He softened looking at your state “Not the girl I was talking about but that’s good to know”

You took that opportunity to stand on the couch, arms out for him to whisk you off the seat and twirl you round as you placed kisses on his face “I missed you”

He groaned “I missed you so much more baby”

When he placed you back on the floor you pulled up your sweatshirt to show him the bump “Look! I’m huge!”

“I got your picture” he mumbled, hand cupping the bottom of the bump “You look so good Schatzi”

You can hear the sultry in his voice when he calls you by that nickname.

You laugh it off, just your boyfriend flirting with you a little bit. He didn’t want to sleep with you, the two of you hadn’t had sex since your early pregnancy you were sure he wasn’t finding you attractive while pregnant.

The two of you sat watching tv, eating dinner and Nico’s hand stayed firmly grasping your upper thigh. You caught his hand sliding up your thigh further and further every so often.

You went to bed first, awfully tired as of late and Nico joined you soon after finishing his tapes.

You were just wearing his sweatshirt and some underwear to bed as you had been lately, the rest of you bare to increase comfort in your swollen state.

You felt him slip into the bed, the mattress dipping before his hand reached around you to rest on the bottom of your belly.

You snuggled closer into his chest and mumbled “love you, night”

However, Nico had other plans. You felt the fingers that had been caressing your belly just moments prior begin to travel down your body, slipping into your panties with ease and finding your clit to rub soft and delicate circles into the bundle of nerves.

With the contact you jolted a little “Nico-“

“Shh baby” he pressed a kiss behind your ear and whispered “I’ve got you”

You sigh contently, leaning in closer to his chest and enjoying the feeling. He continued to flutter kisses on your neck and nip at your ear lope.

“You look so pretty schatzi, those pictures you sent me”

“You like them?”

He groans lowly just thinking about them “You’re perfect baby, you always look so gorgeous growing our babies… you’re my perfect woman”

His finger had travelled from your clit to inside of you now, his thumb replacing it on your bundle of nerves. You were letting out little puffs of air, not quite moans but he knew you were being pleasured.

He couldn’t quite reach around your body to get deep enough so he sits up, planting himself between your legs with a dopey smile. Swiftly, he yanks your panties down your legs and they’re disregarded across the room while he sits you up to take off his sweater you’re wearing.

Your hand grabs his hair as he kisses your belly all the way up over your breasts to your lips. When he pulls away from your lips you smile softly

“Hi baby”

“I love you, schatz”

Nico watches contently as your face turns from admiration to pleasure in a second, the hand that wasn’t holding him up to hover over you worked it’s way between your folds, the squelching of your wetness filling the room.

He smirks “You were so wet for me baby”

You nod breathlessly “Oh god, Nico!”

He begins sucking on your neck, biting and nipping at your skin while slowly making his way down to your breasts. This time around they were so sensitive, the slightest movement had you clenching your legs as to not be weird about it. But Nico was using that to his full advantage tonight.

His tongue swirled around the bud once before he blew puffs of cold air onto it making you stutter in your breaths.

“Neeks please!” You yelped, overwhelmed with the sensations coming over your body. He now had two fingers inside of you, curling up at his knuckle to hit that sweet spot inside of you while his thumb pressed into your clit and his mouth played with your boobs.

You were already a moaning mess beneath him, panting and groaning at all of his touches. You felt it then, that coil inside your belly winding up with every curl of his fingers.

“Ni- I’m gonna, baby please, I’m gonna cum” you cried, trying to push him away. This was the first time you two had sex in over two months and you didn’t want it to be over in two minutes.

You watched him pop up from his place on your breasts, breathless “Come for me baby girl”

You screwed your face tight “No! No, I want you inside-“

He chuckled, kissing you silent “Who said you were only cumming once?”

That was it. The way his voice was so deep, how he had such control over you, you came on his fingers. He coaxed you through it gently, peppering kisses across your face while he whispered sweet words to you.

“My beautiful girl”

Your hands rested on either side of Nico’s face and you stared up at him “I wanna ride you”

His eyes went wide and he stuttered “You’re sure?”

Nodding you sat up, gesturing him to lay on his back “So sure, you deserve it babe”

He did as told and lay down on the bed, his hands running up and down your sides as you made yourself comfortable after taking off his pyjama pants.

You climb on top of him, taking a moment to hold your lower back in pain. Then it hits you, you look silly.

You’re on top of your boyfriend, you look huge, you’re out of breath and he’s probably not even attracted by it.

Nico can see your brain moving at a million miles a minute. He grabs your hands and squeezes them

“Hey sweet stuff? What’s going on?”

You look at him “I just… this is stupid I look like a whale!”

Nico’s face softens and for a moment he watches you battle with yourself in your head.

In one swift movement, his hands on your back he flips you over so he’s back hovering over you

“Neeks-“

He doesn’t say anything instead he lines himself up with you and pushes in deep, rendering you speechless. His cock is thick and it hurts just a little bit but the pleasure outweighs the pain at this point.

Your thighs are on either side of his waist and being used to hold as he drives into you. You’re screaming out in pleasure, Nico’s sure he hasn’t ever heard you this loud in all of your years together.

You’re repeating his name like it’s some sort of mantra. Somehow he’s even more turned on than he was before.

His thumb finds its way back to your clit and creates small circles to help you find that edge once more. Nico smirks has your face contorts into every shade of pleasure possible.

“You’re so close babygirl, I can feel it. How about we just-“ his thrust was hard, knocking the wind out of you.

You came. You felt the white hot rush over your body and you shivered in the best way. The strangled moan you let out was all you could summon.

The two of you were still and silent for a moment until Nico said

“I have died and gone to heaven” before collapsing onto the bed next to you while you felt him dripping down your leg and onto the bedsheet.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and said “C’mon let’s get you washed and I’ll change the sheets”

You got yourself cleaned up while he changed the bed sheets and changed his pyjamas before stepping back out in hopes of going to bed.

You stopped by your mirror, the one from this morning and lifted your sweatshirt to see the bump you’ve become so obsessed with.

Nico watched before joining you, behind you holding onto it too.

“Our sweet boy” you whispered and he kissed the back of your skull

“This family, it’s everything I’ve prayed for”

#nico and mom #Nico and mama #life of Iris

186 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 11 months

Text

Penalty Box Series— Imagines Edition: Sweet Sixteen

for all of those that have been asking for the little mouse origin <3

warnings: swearing, i think that's it? it's very fluffy!

word count: 3.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST

It was a week before your and Jack’s sixteenth birthday. The one you’ve been waiting for since you turned thirteen and realized that sixteen is the next big milestone.

The best part about your birthday coming is that Quinn will be flying back home for the day. It’s been over two months since you last saw him for his spring break, so you were having some serious best friend withdrawals.

“It’s too far away, Quintin!” you whined into your phone. “You should ditch your other finals and come early.”

“Mom might kill me if I do that, Sissy,” Quinn laughed. “I’ll be there as early as I can; I promise.”

You talked to Quinn for a while before he had to go to class, so you figured it was now or never to ask him the question you’ve been holding in for weeks.

“Wait! Before you go, I got a favor to ask you,” you blurted out.

“And what’s that?”

“Could you… could you ask Matthew to come? And you can bring Brady if you want so he can see his brother but I haven’t seen Matthew in a long time and I miss—“

“Sissy!” Quinn cut you off laughing. “I can ask him, I think he’s still in Calgary before going home for the summer since they got knocked out of the playoffs. I can’t promise anything, but I can promise that I’ll ask. I’ll ask Brady, too.”

You started beaming. You put yourself on mute and let out an excited squeal really quick before unmuting to thank Quinn.

“I really need to go now, Sissy, I love you! Don’t be too bad.”

“I love you, too, Quinny. And no promises!”

“That sounds about right,” Quinn laughed.

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You got out of bed and squealed in excitement some more, dancing and jumping around your room as you did so.

Jack threw open the door with a bewildered look on his face, “What’s got you so giddy?”

“Quinn’s gonna ask Matthew if he’ll come to my birthday!” you told him.

“Our birthday,” Jack corrected you. “Are you sure you want that? You tend to embarrass yourself around him.”

“I’ll be sixteen, Jacky Boy, I’ve grown up,” you told him smugly.

Jack rolled his eyes as he turned around to leave your room, “Whatever you say!”

Okay, maybe you’re still that same thirteen year old girl who practically followed Matthew around like a lost puppy when you first met him over two years ago. And maybe you’re still the girl that got his jersey as the first NHL jersey you bought yourself. So what? You’re older now, and more mature, and can definitely control yourself in front of the hottest guy you’ve ever seen because he is older than you, and you do not have a shot. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be excited at the prospect of him coming to your birthday party!

As the days went by, you tried to not let yourself get too let down at the fact that Quinn doesn’t know for sure if Matthew could come. You understand, he has responsibilities. But his season is over so you aren’t sure what they are. Not that they’re any of your business– you’d just like his reasoning.

Quinn and Brady arrived the day before your and Jack’s birthday and you couldn’t have been more excited to see them. More specifically Quinn, because you and Brady aren’t that close. The second you heard the door opening, you bolted out of your seat on the couch and ran towards the front of the house.

“Quinny!”

Quinn dropped his duffel and held his arms wide open, lifting your feet off the ground as he spun you around.

“I missed you, too, Sissy,” he laughed. You didn’t loosen your hold around his neck when your feet touched the ground. Instead, you just let your head lay on his chest, content that he was back within hugging distance. “You gonna let go?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, tightening the hug.

“Didn’t think so,” Quinn laughed. He bent down and picked you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist, shifted you to the left, and continued to walk into the living room to say hello to everyone else. “I think we know the drill by now.”

The “drill” being everyone else in the family had to hug him from the side you weren’t being held on and could get their real hugs in when you were content.

“Welcome home, Quinny,” Jack smiled. “Glad you’re here.”

“I couldn’t miss your sixteenth birthday,” Quinn smiled back. “Or this one’s.”

“She would’ve somehow found her way to you if you tried to,” Ellen teased you.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with storytelling and catching up, a three on three street hockey game with you as the ref (Ellen, Brady, and Quinn versus Jack, Luke, and Jim), seemingly endless amounts of pizza, and some death threats over Uno. Jim and Ellen called it a night around ten, so the rest of you went upstairs to the game room, aka where your bed resides in the corner.

“Chel tournament?” Luke suggested.

Your eyes lit up at the opportunity to beat the boys again since you tragically lost every round of Uno from them ganging up on you.

“Game on, boys,” you said menacingly. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

“I don’t know about losing, but I’m ready to hear what insults you come up with when you lose,” Brady said.

“Don’t worry, she uses them when she’s winning, too,” Quinn joked.

After way too many games, because god forbid it just be five games to determine a winner, it was you versus Jack in the final.

“You ready to cry like a girl?” he smirked.

“I will shove this controller up your ass in your sleep,” you said through gritted teeth.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” Brady laughed. “I can see why everyone loves you.”

“There’s more than one controller, Braeden,” you said in the same way you spoke to Jack. Brady held his hands up in surrender and backed away to sit next to Luke on the couch.

You and Jack were playing pretty equal compared to the other. Jack was playing as Crosby, and you were playing as McDavid, only you were proving to have better skills tonight with a controller. The round was coming to an end. If you make one more goal, you’d be declared the winner. Jack was on top of your back, trying to get you to mess up, but you were too good to be deterred by his nonsense. The second that puck hit the back of the net and the video game McDavid did his celly, you stood up with your arms in air, causing Jack to land on his back on the floor, and copied the celly he always does when he scores.

“No!” Jack screamed. “How did you get this good?!”

“What else do you think I do when I’m here and you’re at hockey practice?!”

“I don’t know! Read?!”

“Do you see any books around?!”

Jack walked away and drew back the curtain surrounding your bed and face planted diagonally on the mattress. You followed and landed directly on him so that your back was on top of his, making him groan. He shot up quickly, sending you to the ground this time, and sat on top of you. You immediately started to fight with him to get him off, but he held your arms down above your head. You jerked around until you finally loosened his grip enough to propel yourself forward and got him on his back.

“Look at you two, almost sixteen and still acting like you could kill each other,” Quinn said in a fake adoring voice. “I could cry.”

Quinn mentioning the fact that you were almost sixteen stopped the fighting. You scurried off of Jack, messing up his hair as you did, and ran to check your phone that was at the other side of the room.

“11:56,” you said, looking at Jack excitedly.

Jack didn’t say anything, he just bolted off to his room to get your present, and you went to Quinn’s to get his. You both vaguely knew what the presents were, it was just a matter of what they looked like.

The tradition of the same present every year started when you two turned six. Jack had remembered that you shared the same birthday, and being the sweet boy that he was, he asked his mom if he could get you a present. You also remembered, but your parents told you that they didn’t have any money. While Jack was at hockey practice with Jim, you walked over to the Hughes house in tears. Ellen answered the door and immediately let you in and asked you what was wrong. You bawled as you told her that you couldn’t get Jack a birthday present and really wanted to. Being the good mother to you back then as she is now, she took you to the store.

The simple answer was a hockey puck, but you frowned when you discovered that they were all boring black ones. You wanted Jack to have a pretty one, since he always loved the drawings you drew. Ellen came up with the idea of using paint markers to color the hockey puck so that you could make it just like your drawings. You were thrilled with the idea, so she got some pucks, markers, and a case to display it in.

You talked to her while you colored the hockey puck at her kitchen table, trying to hurry and get it done before Jack and Jim got home. You wrote your initial and a J on it, with BFF underneath it. Around it were stars and dots, covering every other inch of the puck. Ellen put the puck in the clear case and wrapped it up for you, letting you stick a ribbon on top. She told you that she’d keep it nice and safe and that you could give it to Jack when you came over for breakfast the next morning.

Jack had gotten you a pink plastic charm bracelet with a bedazzled J as the only charm because Claire’s didn’t have one with yours. Ellen had tried to get him to pick out something else, but he was hellbent on it. He said that it was for when you got sad and couldn’t come over to see him, you’d still have him. Ellen almost cried on the spot when she heard something that sweet come from her son. So she bought it, wrapped it, and stashed it.

Since you both loved each other’s presents so much, neither one of you could figure out what to get each other the next year other than the same thing. Ellen was on board, but had you both alter the presents. You used your paint markers to draw a yellow jersey with an 87 on it for Crosby since he was one of Jack’s favorite players, and Jack got you two charms from the craft store to add to your charm bracelet that you wore every day– pink bedazzled charm in the shape of your initial, and a green star. He hated the fact that you watched the Stars win one game while you were over and chose them as your favorite team, but he was taught to be nice about it.

The tradition stayed the same as you two got older. Eventually your charm bracelet was so full that he had to get you a second one. When you turned thirteen, a sterling silver one replaced the plastic ones because of some mean comments the other girls were making. You still kept the two pink ones in a shadow box. And your artist skills got better. Your stars and polka dots surrounding numbers and initials turned into accurate and detailed drawings of helmets or goalposts, which later turned into paintings of a goalie in his net, or a player’s back shooting a goal.

This year, you two had to go above and beyond. Sixteen is a big deal, so the presents needed to be a big deal. You’ve spent weeks painting Jack’s puck, and you went through two just to get it perfect. Your art teacher in school has helped develop your skills and it’s really starting to show.

You and Jack sat right next to each other on the edge of your bed with your presents from each other in your laps. Quinn had a countdown open on his laptop so that you could start to open them as soon as the clock struck twelve. You were going first this year, and at sixteen seconds past midnight, your eyes started to tear up at the charms Jack had gotten you this year.

“So the UMich logo is for Quinn, since that’s where he’ll be going next year,” Jack began to explain. “And then the L charm has sapphires for Luke since you don’t have a charm for him on this bracelet yet.”

“Jack,” you breathed. “They’re beautiful, I love them. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, you sap,” he said as you hugged him. “My turn!”

Jack ripped off the wrapping paper off of the display case of his puck, and his jaw dropped to the ground at the sight.

“Is that…”

“It’s the outdoor rink where you taught me how to shoot a puck,” you finished for him.

On the puck was a painting of the outdoor rink in Nathan Phillip’s Square. The three arches with stars dangling down were drawn as if you were standing on the rink, looking out at them from below. Painted smaller to look far away was a goal post, and behind it were some of the buildings that surrounded the area, only simplified without all the architectural exterior. It was the view you remember seeing at six years old when the Hughes family took you all out early one morning to skate when no one was there. You’ve been back hundreds of times now, but this memory sticks out above all the rest. You weren’t taught to skate at a toddler age, so you got taught by Jim and Ellen a few months after you started going over to their house. A year later, Jack decided he wanted to teach you how to shoot a puck.

“Sissy this is amazing,” Jack said in awe. “Guys, come look at this!”

Brady stayed behind as Quinn and Luke joined you two on the bed. Quinn sat next to Jack, and Luke got behind you all to look over Jack’s shoulder.

“Holy shit!” Luke exclaimed.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Sissy. This is beautiful,” Quinn complimented.

“You like it?”

“Like it?! Y/N, I love this. This is your best piece of work you’ve ever done Thank you,” Jack said.

“You’re welcome, you sap.”

None of you went to sleep until well past two in the morning, and it ended up with all five of you sleeping in the game room. You and Jack shared your bed, Quinn took the couch, and Luke and Brady were sprawled out across the floor. Ellen came to wake you all up a little after nine for breakfast, a.k.a a buffet of chocolate chip pancakes and various breakfast sides.

“Look at my babies all grown up!” Ellen gleed as she wrapped you and Jack up in a hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you!” you and Jack said in sync.

“That was creepy,” Brady said.

“It’s a twin thing,” you said with a wink.

“Happy birthday you two!” Jim greeted you when he came out of the master bedroom.

“Thank you!” you both said in sync again.

After breakfast, you all left the table to go get ready for the party. You two mostly had the same friends, and he had some guys from his hockey team come as well that you weren’t really close with. But you invited some girls from your art class that Jack didn’t know too well, so it worked out. You both made it clear to everyone that you weren’t expecting gifts and just wanted to have a good time at a party. Your close friends did get you some, and you loved every last one. Obviously, it wasn’t a high school party with drinks and what not, but that didn’t make the whole event any less crazy.

Jim and Ellen let you all be for the most part. Once everyone leaves is when you have your family birthday with presents and just a calm evening in the backyard around a bonfire. It was kind of a free for all. There were many girls versus boys street hockey games, even some mini sticks up stairs. There wasn’t a set itinerary and it mostly felt like a normal afternoon with all your friends with video games and card games and anything anyone could think of doing. You had a good enough time to forget that Matthew wasn’t there, but there was still a small pang inside you. Quinn said he’d try but that he couldn’t promise anything, so you tried to not be too let down.

Once everyone cleared out, your family plus Brady were all gathered around the living room for more presents.

“Open mine first!” Luke shouted, practically throwing gift boxes at you and Jack.

Luke had gotten Jack a new UMich hoodie, which he immediately put on and was pleased with the softness, and you were given two lighters. The first one was a normal bic lighter personalized to have a picture with Luke’s face on it, and the other looked like a stack of cards with an ace of hearts on top.

“Oh my god I got lighters!” you cheered.

“Use the cards one!” Luke urged.

You slid over the card and instead of a normal flame, it was colored, “OH MY GOD IT’S GREEN!”

The room laughed at how giddy you were over the lighters, and Luke jokingly acted like he hated being smothered by your hug.

“You got our criminally insane sister lighter?!” Quinn teased. “She’s going to set us on fire!”

“And you, Quintin, will be my first victim,” you said in a serious voice. “I’ll just casually set you on fire with my Luke lighters. Out of love, of course,”

“How thoughtful.”

The rest of the reactions to the present were met with the same excitement and gratitude. Jim and Ellen got you some new paints and Jack some new video games. Quinn got Jack some new hockey gear and you a Stars hoodie, and Brady had gotten you a drawing notebook with some pens and pencils and Jack a Batman skinned controller.

“Good birthday?” Jim asked.

“A very good birthday, thank you,” you said.

“It’s been amazing,” Jack added.

A knock at the door caught you off guard. You already ate, so it couldn’t be a food delivery. And you never get any solicitors. Everyone in the room shared a knowing look, making you even more confused.

“I’ll get it,” Quinn said. You sat on your knees on the couch to get a better look to see who was at the door.

“Matthew!” you shouted. You tried to hop over the couch to go talk to him, but instead fell right over it and landed on your face. The boys did try and stifle their cackles, but even you couldn’t blame them. You tend to laugh with them when you’re clumsy, but in front of Matthew? You were extremely embarrassed. What helped was the fact that Matthew didn’t laugh.

Matthew walked over to you and held out a hand to you to help you off the ground, “Are you alright, birthday girl?”

You tried to brush the hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ears to try and look like you didn’t just tumble to the ground, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you.”

“That’s good, because now I can give you this,” Matthew said, bringing his other hand around from behind his back to reveal a singular red rose. “It’s not much, but Quinn assured me that you’d love it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more. You’ve never been given flowers, and something about a singular rose felt a lot more personal than a whole bouquet. You brought it up to your face and felt your body relax at the scent.

“I do love it. Thank you, Matthew,” you said sincerely. Matthew smiled and brought you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist and tried to soak it all in. Okay, so the part of you that was crushing madly on him at thirteen is evidently still burning strong.

“I would’ve come over earlier, but Quinn and I thought having an NHL player at your birthday party might draw the attention away from you two,” Matthew explained.

“I think I like it better this way,” you said.

You all made room for Matthew in the living room, with you sitting directly next to him. Lucky for you, it was a tight fit with four of you on the couch (you, Jack, Matthew, and Luke) so you were sitting pretty close to Matthew. He talked about his season, and you were all soaking up every single word. You’ve loved watching him go from the London Knights to the NHL and hearing about all the parts he’s loved about playing made you so happy.

“Alright, I gotta ask. Why do they call you a rat?” Jack asked. “I see it all over twitter.”

“Because he’s a pest on and off the ice,” Brady joked. “Ratty suits him.”

“But they also call you Chucky and Chucky is a mouse!” you pointed out.

“Mouse is too cutesy for him,” Brady said.

“It’s alright,” Matthew chuckled. “I kinda like it. It’s funny! Go on, Y/N, say it.”

“Ratty,” you said, and started to giggle after. It was a little funny.

“I told you!”

“I need my own version!” you exclaimed. “Everyone gets a nickname by me.”

“What are you thinking for me?”

You pondered for a moment, “I’ll call you Matty Ratty. I still protest about the mouse thing, but I guess it doesn’t really fit you.”

“I’ll call you my Little Mouse,” Matthew said. “You fit the cutesy nickname more than I do.”

The biggest smile you’ve had today made its way to your face. His Little Mouse. A nickname just for him to use.

“I love it,” you told him.

Matthew nudged your shoulder with his, “Happy birthday, Little Mouse.”

“Thank you, Matty Ratty.”

“Oh! And happy birthday to you, too, Jack!”

“It’s about time!” Jack laughed. “Thanks, Matthew.”

“I think it’s time for Matty to experience playing a game of Uno with Y/N,” Quinn said. “She won’t be so cute then.”

“Shut up, Quintin!” you protested. You eyed the deck of cards in the TV stand across from you and couldn’t resist a redemption. “Alright, screw it! Bring it on!”

Quinn ran to get the cards and began to shuffle them and deal them out. You all moved to the table so that you couldn’t see each other’s cards.

Jack’s hand hovered over the pile in the middle of the table, “Ready?”

“Flip it over, Jackson!” you shouted at him.

“Happy Hunger Games, everybody! Let the games begin.”

#penalty box series #penalty box series: imagines #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #hockey imagine

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diningchairs · 28 days

Note

dewmac thesis? please? for the sake of the people of course

OH BOY, YIPEE!!

i am going to be so annoying, so for all the dewmac enjoyers (hi taylor and katie) and dewmac-curious people, let me explain

some people may ask WHY i ship them and the answer is simple: i am a freak enjoyer, delusional and these are my barbie dolls.

first, i’m gonna go over the lore…which is very limited but when had that EVER stopped me from shipping??

October 30, 2021 - nate goes after dewey after dewey lays a dirty hit on bo byram. they’re both bad at fighting, so it’s funny. love the quote, “down he goes, duhaime on top of him”. (x)

now all the way too

March 7th, 2024 - Brandon Duhaime gets traded to the Colorado Avalanche

March 12th, 2024 - Attack Dog. During a game against the Calgary Flames, Dewey goes after a player who was bothering Nate. NOW THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE!! That is exactly what you’re supposed to do, Dewey, good boy. Connor McGahey had this say about it in an episode of Peak Access:

“There was a Calgary player who was wacking at Mackinnon and immediately, Duhaime recognized the situation and went to the Flames player and tried to track him down and made sure that he was leaving Nathan Mackinnon alone and then went back on the bench and gave Nathan Mackinnon a little tap on the knee and said, ‘I got you, I got your back’ and that’s the time of player Duhaime is, he’s got you back” (x, 5:53 is the bit about Dewey)

SO FUN, RIGHT?!?!?!!!!

March 30th, 2024 - I have no videos for this but just know that I saw them laughing on the bench together and everything felt right. Now as a Nate supporter first, human being second, I felt very protective over Nate and certain people claiming that he was going to “ruin” Dewey. So when I saw them laughing and having a good time, I was just happy because believe it or not, Nate isn’t some evil person devoid of fun, happiness, and sugar.

April 8th, 2024 - DEWEY’S FIRST GOAL AS AN AV! And guess what… he points to Nate RIGHT after (x)

Okay so now onto my thesis.

Obviously a big reason for shipping them is seeing two freaks and thinking, “ooo, they should fuck nasty” but there’s a little more to the narrative here.

Dewey was traded away from HIS TEAM, from his team that meant to much to him. He even said in the Peak Access episode I mentioned earlier that he was excited to play for Colorado but sad to leave Minnesota. He was also RIPPED AWAY from his best friend, Connor Dewar, who was then ripped away from Minnesota. Not to mention, Dewey was brought here because we needed a physical player for our playoffs roster.

So. Dewey’s now in Colorado, all alone. (Yes, we’ve all seen the arrival and airport photos where he looks miserable, which i’m not denying he wasn’t but also: That’s Just His Face)

And just a few games after being traded, he becomes an attack dog for Nate. And GOD, it was just hot and kind of unexpected?

Dewey takes all of his anger/frustration/sadness from the trade and puts that into defending his new team—especially Nate—by getting physical and going after other players.

In my mind, they’re friends with benefits. And they absolutely know that they are NOT each other’s first choice. But they still fuck nasty. And Dewey was never intimated by Nate at all. He was so pissed from the trade that he just doesn’t GIVE A FUCK. And then he plays with the Avs and is like, “ohhhh okay, I will lay down my life for Nate I guess. Also I want to fuck him to fuck me.” And so he’s using Nate as someplace to put his emotions again.

And Nate is all for it. Another fun thing is that, *slaps Nate*, you can fit so many terrible love situations into this bad boy! Is he fucking Dewey because his love for Sid is unrequited? Is Cale ignoring his texts? Was he reminded of his thing with Tyson Barrie? Or Burky?

More on their relationship dynamic:

So yeah. In conclusion, dewmac nation NEEDS TO RISE because they are so mean and nasty to each other yet they need each other to balance out their emotions from stupid trades and playoffs and other hockey related problems.

I hope you enjoyed! It’s kind of hard for me to explain ship dynamics sometimes because I will just keep rambling. And ships are always evolving in my head as I get more comfortable with writing them.

Okay, now i’m gonna go write something about these freaks

#dewmac #nathan mackinnon #brandon duhaime #hrpf #avs #blah blah reminder that this is JUST FICTION and me having fun #haters interact if you dare because 🫵you can’t stop me from shipping players…no matter how little they interacted

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haddonfieldwhore · 6 months

Text

i don’t dance - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: while on a road trip with your best friend, he shows you around calgary, including his favourite country bar

warnings: drinking, language, nsfw themes/implied smut, i’ve been thinking about cowboy matt a lot lately, idk how to line dance so i apologize in advance

word count: 1.9k yeehaw matt playlist 🎧

“matty, you’re joking right?” you pleaded hopefully, looking at your best friend who stood before you, a black cowboy hat atop his head.

“you know what they say - when in…calgary,” he replied with a toothy grin.

“i think the phrase is ‘when in rome, genius,” you both laughed. but you were not in rome, you were in calgary alberta, and matthew had spent his entire day off showing you around the city he spent so many years calling home. you knew matt had loved his time with the flames, but florida was home now; and he was off to a great start with the panthers, as well as enjoying the warm weather.

you and the tkachuks had grown up down the street from eachother in st.louis, and while you were closer to his sisters age, you had always been closest with matthew. you had visited him in calgary a few times, but hadn’t spent a ton of time there while he lived there. when he told you he was moving to florida, you went with him, tired of being so far away from your best friend.

“it’s a country bar, i have to dress the part,” he argued. matty had shown you the arena, the house where he had lived when he was with the flames, and various landmarks around the city. the final stop on your tour was a bar that he insisted on dragging you to, despite your known aversion for country music.

“i’m not really sure it’s my scene,” you sighed, looking through your suitcase for anything remotely appropriate to wear tonight. it was surprisingly warm out despite being late in the evening, so you settled on some cutoff denim shorts and a tight, low cut t-shirt that showed off your cleavage. you got dressed in the bathroom of the hotel room you and matt were sharing, a little nervous as you looked at yourself in the mirror. over the years you had developed a small crush on the curly haired boy you had known for so long; and you secretly hoped he thought you looked hot as you adjusted your shorts one more time before heading back out.

“is this okay?” you asked, the way matthews breath caught in his throat as he turned around going unnoticed. his eyes traveled up your bare legs and over your chest before meeting your gaze, giving you a smile and hoping you hadn’t realized he was checking you out.

“you look great,” he smiled, and you felt a bit relieved. “now if you had some cowboy boots-“

“no way in hell. not even you could get me to wear those, matty. nice try though,” you laughed, pushing his chest softly as you walked by to put in you shoes. he silently wondered what you had meant by ‘not even you’, but didn’t question it, instead grabbing his red flannel shirt and throwing it in over his tshirt before following you out the door, trying not to think about how good your ass looked in those tiny shorts. maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, he thought.

•

to say you were nervous walking into the bar was an understatement, and while you had tried your best to dress the part, you were worried you would stick out like a sore thumb. you slid your hand into matthews, and his heart skipped a beat as he pulled you behind him into the building, and towards an empty table in the back. it wasn’t too busy thankfully, but there were some people dancing already, the sound of boots on the floor mixing with the music and chatter.

“relax, why are you so nervous?” he laughed at you from across the table, reaching his hand across the table to stop yours from shaking as they sat atop the wooden surface.

“i don’t know, i just feel out of place,” you admitted.

“just breathe. you know i won’t let anything happen to you,” he smiled, amused by how nervous you were over something so small. your heart skipped a beat, and you hoped you weren’t blushing too much; but who could blame you if you were, hearing something like that.

after you and matthew each finished a few beers and the bar filled up with more people, you felt surprisingly relaxed. what was not relaxing, however, was the way your breathing stopped everytime matt’s leg brushed against yours under the table; and you weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or not.

“do you trust me?” he asked suddenly, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as the corner of his mouth curled upward. you nearly choked on your drink as he glanced over at the dance floor.

“not when you look at me like that,” you admitted, but let him take your hand in his and pull you into the floor. “matty i have no idea how to dance- nevermind this kind of dancing.”

“it’s easy. if i can do it, anyone can,” he smiled. you were thankful to be off to the side of the dancefloor, with little chance of running into anyone as matt’s hands landed on your hips, his fingertips cold as they brushed against your skin where you shirt had ridden up slightly.

his breath was hot on your shoulder and he stood behind you, guiding your body forward to the music.

“you just step like this, and then to the side, tap your feet together, then step back,” he instructed, showing you slowly what to do, before the two of you repeated the steps together. “and then, when you step back this time, you can add a spin.”

your hands landed on his chest as he spun you around, and his arms circled your waist as you looked up at him. his blue eyes seemed darker thank usual as he stared down at you, but maybe it was just the shadow from his hat. did he always smell this good? you asked yourself, the close proximity allowing the scent of his cologne to reach your nose, and maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but he smelled like heaven.

“think you’ve got it?” he asked under his breath, both of you unable to break the eye contact.

“no,” you muttered. “show me again,” you requested, turning around and placing his hands back on your hips, sliding his fingertips ever so slightly into the waistband of your shorts.

“fuck,” he breathed out, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it; but you did. matt walked you through the steps again, this time leaving no space between the two of you, allowing you to feel him pressing against your backside the whole time. he spun you around, this time pulling you flush against him as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, your lips just centimetres apart.

“now what?” you asked, barely above a whisper as your chest rose and fell, the room suddenly feeling very warm.

“kiss me,” he requested, his eyes half lidded as your leaned up to capture his lips with your own. your mouths moved together, his tongue running along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth as he held you tight. he groaned as you tugged at the curls that peeked out from beneath his hat at the base of his neck, before you both separated to catch your breath.

“do you teach all your dance partners that part or is that just me?”

“god, just you,” the words melted off his tongue as he kissed you again, biting at your bottom lip gently. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“maybe as long as i’ve wanted you to?”

“i don’t know - is that a long time?”

“yeah,” you breathed out as he kissed your neck. “matty-“ the words caught in your throat, your train of thought lost as you realized he had defiantly left a hickey below your jawline.

“do you have any idea how hot you look in those shorts? the light bouncing of your skin?” he whispered.

“i wore them for you,” you replied, suprised at the confidence you were finding. things were always easy with matthew, your friendship coming so naturally; you had a bond that nothing could ruin.

“jesus, you’re gonna get me into trouble.”

“why’s that?” you asked, looking up at him, barring your eyelashes innocently.

“because we’re in public right now, and i’m finding it really difficult to not rip those fucking shorts off you right here,” he admitted, his voice low.

“so take me home.” his eyes closed for a second, before he grabbed your hand and walked you back to your table of empty bottles and threw enough cash on the table to cover the tab three times. you couldn’t hide the smile on your flushed face as he dragged you out of the bar, his other hand calling an uber with his phone.

•

matthews leg shook the entire ride back to the hotel, which while in reality was only about ten minutes, felt like about three hours. his hand rested on you thigh, his calloused fingertips tracing little shapes on your skin. while still being careful not to hurt your wrist, he pulled you quickly out of the car after paying the driver and his lips were on yours the second the elevator door closed.

“matty, someone could come in any second-“

“don’t tempt me, i’ll hit the panic button and stop this damn thing-“ he nearly growled, his teeth nipping at the skin below your ear.

“relax, baby - we’re almost there,” you murmured, but silently wished that the elevator would speed up. the two of you stumbled down the hall to the doorway, matt unable to keep his hands off you the whole time, pinning you against the door as he fumbled in his pocket for the key card.

“you’re making it really hard to focus right now….” he groaned as you left a trail of kisses up the side of his neck, the door finally opening behind you and allowing matthew to push you backwards into the suite.

“is that the only thing i’m making hard?“ you asked, palming his length through his jeans that had become significantly tighter, and he nearly whimpered at your touch. usually it would take more to get that kind of reaction out of him, but you had an effect on him like no one else ever would.

“don’t tease-“ you interrupted him by connecting your lips again, trailing your hands up his chest and sliding the flannel shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. his hands slid under your t-shirt and pulled it over your head. he took his hat off and placed it atop your head before attaching his lips to your collarbone, his hands reaching down to undo your shorts.

“you want this, right?” he said, his hands pausing as his eyes met yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“please, matty-“ you pulled his pelvis against yours by his belt loops and he groaned, his head falling back as his eyes closed and his mouth fell open slightly. “i need you.”

you helped eachother out of the rest of your clothes, tumbling to the bed with your lips still connected, hands wandering all over. you rolled on top of matt, straddling his lap as you admired how messy his curls had gotten from your hands tangling in his hair.

“what’s that song called again? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you teased, and he smiled, sitting up and holding you in his lap, placing a kiss on your lips.

“i thought you didn’t listen to country music?” he smirked, adjusting the cowboy hat that still sat on your head.

“i’ve heard one or two songs in my lifetime,” you smiled as he kissed you deeply, tossing the hat aside as he rolled on top of you.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

#matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl players #hockey fic #hockey #florida panthers #calgary flames #real person fiction

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msmargaretmurry · 1 month

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Mini fic 13. things you said at the kitchen table would be fun for matthew and leon, because another pair of my blorbos have several Important Scenes in the kitchen, so seeing how that setting is used for others is nice!

as i'm sure everyone has forgotten by now, eons ago i was doing this writing meme, and so many lovely folks left me prompts that i never got to because grad school destroyed my ability to write. but i am trying to get back in a creative groove so we're resurrecting it. so thank you for your patience/sorry about the wait i guess?? 😂 anway —

13. things you said at the kitchen table

“There you are.”

The kitchen had been so quiet that Leon jumps, looking up from his phone to see Matthew leaning in the doorway, eyebrows knit together with a frown. He’s bare-chested, barefoot, wearing the gray sweatpants that had been folded on top of Leon’s hamper, worn once but not dirty enough to put through the wash yet. There’s an array of teeth marks and mouth-shaped bruises down his torso, just starting to bloom with color. If he turned around, Leon knows, there would be a matching constellation on the back of his hip, disappearing under the waistband.

Leon tends to lose himself in the moment. Sometimes it’s a little embarrassing to see what he’s done afterwards.

Matthew tilts his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon looks at his phone again, somewhere in the middle of a mindless scroll through Instagram, then sets it aside. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”

“Coulda woken me up,” Matthew says, that cocky little grin of his tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I woulda tired you back out.” He’s crossing the room as he says this, ignoring Leon’s eye-roll, pulling out a chair to sit down across from him. Elbows on the table, eyebrows raised. The only time he’s stopped looking smug all night is when Leon had him gasping and panting and moaning too hard to look anything but desperate. Which is stupid, because his team kind of got destroyed earlier, but maybe his face is just kind of stuck that way.

Leon doesn’t really get Matthew at all. He likes him well enough — a surprising enough thing on its own, and one that Leon is still reluctant to cop to sometimes. But there’s something impenetrable about him. He always leaves Leon feeling off-balance. Something about the way he walks into every room like there’s no reason he wouldn’t belong there, including Leon’s kitchen.

The sex is great, though.

Matthew hasn’t spent the night before, but not for any real reason. Just lack of opportunity. Leon usually likes sharing a bed when he has the chance.

Matthew nudges his foot under the table. “Hey.”

Leon blinks at him. “What?”

“You sure you’re awake?”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ awake,” Leon says, and kicks him back.

“Well then act like it,” Matthew says, catching Leon’s ankle briefly between his feet. “Is everything okay?”

Leon opens his mouth to say yes, but then he takes a moment to consider the situation, and instead he says, “This is a little weird, isn’t it? You and me at the kitchen table?”

“Well, it’s not my fault we’re not still in bed.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“I think it’s mostly weird because it’s the middle of the night.” The way that Matthew’s curls fall in his face is distracting. Makes Leon think about how they feel tangled in his fingers. He’d be disappointed if Matthew ever cut his hair short. “You know I’m leaving at the end of the season, right?”

This startles Leon more than Matthew’s sudden appearance two minutes ago. “What?”

“Contract’s up. Bye-bye Calgary.” Matthew shrugs with an extremely measured amount of awkwardness. That— that’s why he’s so fucking confusing. Even his sincerity feels like an act sometimes. But even more than that—

“Why?”

“It’s too fucking cold, I’m homesick, and my coach hates me.”

“No, mean— really, he does?”

Another shrug. So helpful.

“I mean, why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to make you pay attention to me,” Matthew says. “Geez, why do you think I’m here?”

Leon raises his eyebrows. “You didn’t get enough attention earlier?”

A tiny grin. “No.”

“So where are you going?”

“Dunno yet.”

“Is that true or are you just not telling me?”

Another shrug. A slightly larger, smugger grin.

“You think I’ll miss you?”

“Nah. You’ve got Davo to keep you warm.”

“We’re not—” Leon ignores Matthew’s dancing eyebrows. “Seriously, why are you telling me this?”

Matthew kicks his foot under the table again. “Come back to bed. We’ve got, what, two games left this season? I’m trying to get the fuckin’ in while I still can.”

“So you’re going somewhere far away,” Leon says.

“Dude, you’re in Edmonton,” Matthew says. “Everywhere is far away.”

“I meant, like, out of the conference.”

Shrug. The temptation to reach across and hold Matthew’s shoulders still is so strong. Instead Leon just meets his gaze, trying for the umpteenth time to figure him out. It doesn’t work, so he looks again at the collage of bruises spilling over his collar bone. He’s changed, in the couple of years they’ve been doing this. His body used to be wirier, but now he’s starting to fill out like a grown man. Leon can feel it on the ice, when he hits him, and in bed when he fucks him. He used to be wilder, more immature, more willing to sacrifice the play to be annoying, but he’s honed that down to an art. Whatever team gets him is going to be blown away by what they find behind his reputation. And Leon— well. It’s strange to feel so acutely that in the grand scheme of things he’ll just be an anecdote in Matthew’s life. It doesn’t bother him, exactly. It’s just a strange little moment. He’d thought, maybe stupidly, that they’d be doing this for years to come. Battles of Alberta and all that. But somehow it makes a lot more sense this way.

“Come on,” he says, standing abruptly. He catches Matthew by the arm on his way around the table, pulling him along back toward the bedroom. Matthew shakes the grip off, but catches his hand instead. In bed, he kisses Leon like he means it, but there are a lot of ways to mean something.

#writing meme #matthew and leon #hockey for ts #frida at least i know you've been PLENTY busy with the weewoo show and have NOT been pining away waiting for a response to your prompt 😂❤#anyway in my head this is spiritually in the in from the cold 'verse even tho i'm not sure if all the details match up

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fallinallincurls · 11 months

Text

all’s well that ends well to end up with you

here is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2k23!! this fic is for @ya-pucking-nerd !! i had so much fun writing this and i hope you love it just as much! writing cale has always been a favorite of mine and this one was no exception. and shutout to @tonyspep as always for brainstorming so much of this idea with me!

i ALSO made a playlist for this fic which you can listen to here!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.3k

~~~~~

Cale’s offseason has hardly started, yet his phone is already lighting up with a call from you to no doubt make summer plans before he heads back to Calgary to enjoy time with his family and to start his summer training.

It’s not unusual for his best friend to call him and the soft, giddy smile on his lips at just the sight of your name on his phone display is nothing new either, but when the call connects and words are practically spewing from your lips, he knows something must be wrong.

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” Cale cuts you off, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I said,” You emphasize, taking a deep breath to ensure you speak slower this time, “you got invited to Ryan’s wedding right? The one that’s in a few weeks in Montana?”

“Yeah, I did. What about it?”

“Well, uh, I kinda realized that showing up by myself would be lame right? Like this guy used to be insanely in love with me, but now he’s getting married and I’m, well, not even close to being in a relationship let alone a serious one.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You and Ryan are still friends so it won’t be awkward and I’ll be there so you won’t be bored at any point.” Cale replies, still confused as to what you’re getting at.

“We are still friends, but I have to prove that I’m doing just as well as he is, you know? So I have a plan. Well, more of a question before a plan.” You explain, feeling the nerves creep in as the moment about revealing what you’ve been thinking of asking Cale nears with each passing second.

“Okay…”

“What do you think about going as a fake couple? Like we’re dating but it’s obviously not real? Just to prove to Ryan that I’ve moved on and am doing better! He already knows we’re friends and I don’t think it’d be that hard for us to come up with a story and act all lovey dovey together for a few days.”

Cale is silent on the other line and you have a sick feeling in your stomach that you’ve really messed up. It was a stupid idea anyway. Why would he agree to it? He might be your best friend, but asking him to fake date you? It wasn’t that smart.

“So what’s our story?” Cale asks after a moment, trying to hide the smile growing on his lips that you can’t see anyway.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, if we’re going to make this convincing we have to be on the same page about how we met, the first time we said ‘I love you,’ some funny moments that have happened since we got together. Stuff like that.”

Before you can even begin to think about everything Cale just mentioned, your heart begins racing and a grin is on full display across your face.

“So you’re in?” The question is full of excitement and Cale can’t help but chuckle in response.

“Of course I’m in. I’d do anything for you Y/N. Plus, I think it would be fun to finally get back at Ryan for what he did to you.” Cale replies, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies erupting in his stomach. You squeal on the other end of the line and jump right into ironing out the details so there isn’t anything missed that can foil the plan.

Cale pays attention because he has to, but he knows he’s in trouble. He just agreed to be your fake boyfriend for a whole weekend. Cale’s already hiding how he really feels about you and he has a feeling getting a taste of what he wants so badly will only make him fall even harder.

“Okay,” You say, clicking your seatbelt back into place as the plane begins its descent and turning your gaze to the blue eyed, rosy cheek boy next to you. “Remember our story?”

Cale playfully rolls his eyes at the question you’ve asked about a hundred times since you both boarded the short flight to Montana. “Yes, I do. We met in one of the business classes we were both taking together at the University of Denver when I was working towards finishing my degree in my free time. You had no idea I played hockey and after I asked for a pen that day in class, we started hanging out together. The rest is history.” He recites the story of how you actually met with a smile. “Our anniversary is April 29th, we’ve already met each other’s families and we couldn’t be any happier together.”

“Good job!”

“Most of our fake relationship is based off of how we really met so it isn’t that hard to remember, Y/N.” Cale teases, earning a small chuckle from you in response.

“I know and that will only make it more convincing, don’t you think? Being best friends and having history together already gives us an advantage. I just hope it works.”

“It will.” Cale murmurs, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving your hand a squeeze. You give him a sweet smile in return, before you begin talking about how excited you are about all the plans that are in place for the moment you land. He has to try and remember none of what happens between the two of you this weekend will be real, but that won’t stop him from taking it all in as if this was his real life even if just for a short amount of time.

Best friends, nothing more. Best friends, nothing more.

The words repeat in his head when the plane lands, as you both gather your luggage from baggage claim and throughout the entire cab ride to the resort where the wedding is being held. And just when Cale thinks the reminder is concrete and that nothing will sway him, he opens the door to your assigned hotel room and he stops breathing as he freezes in the threshold.

“Cale? What’s wrong?” You ask from behind him, unable to see around his broad shoulders into the luxurious room. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shuffles through the door and you’re about to tease him until you see the single king size bed in the middle of the room. “Oh.”

“Uh, there’s only one bed.” Cale states the obvious as if both of you aren’t already staring at the bed. “I swear I booked a room with two separate queens, but there must have been a mixup or something. I can check with the front desk to see if we can be moved and if not, I can just sleep on the floor. You can have the bed. That’s fine. It’ll work if-”

“Cale.” You say his name firmly, holding his wrist in an attempt to get him to look at you. He has flipped into rational thinking mode because of the issue at hand, but you know calming him down is the first step in telling him it’s all okay. “You will not be sleeping on the floor. I won’t allow it. That will kill your back and you know it.” “But-”

“No buts. We’re only here for two nights. Sleeping in the same bed won’t be the end of the world for us. How many times have we fallen asleep on the couch together? Or taken a pregame nap? This is no different. I promise.” Your words are soft and visibly make Cale relax. He knows you’re right, but a large part of him knows he won’t be able to handle being that close to you in such an intimate setting even if it’s under the guise of a fake relationship.

“You’re right.” Cale sighs, calming himself down and realizing the situation isn’t as bad as he thought it is. “We can do this.”

You offer him a sweet smile before walking further into the room and dropping your suitcase to the ground. “Do you want to explore the town today since we’re here a day early? I looked up the usual touristy things and places to eat just in case.” Cale looks at his watch and shrugs, feeling happiness surge through him at the thought of wandering through a new place with you.

“That sounds perfect. I’ve never been to Montana before so getting to spend a little time in the town would be really nice.” Cale doesn’t mention how spending all that extra time with you is really what he’s looking forward to most. He would go anywhere in the world if it meant being by your side.

“Then what are we waiting for?” You say excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. And if your heart races a little faster than usual when Cale chuckles and follows behind, no one has to know.

Cale wasn’t kidding when he said he’s never been to Montana before, but he has to admit the little town not far from the resort is the cutest place he’s ever seen. Little storefronts line the streets and both locals and tourists take their time enjoying the cozy town. The scenery is gorgeous too, snow capped mountains extending high into the bright blue sky, but there’s nothing quite like the joy on clear display across your face at every new experience you and Cale do while exploring.

So far, you’ve stopped in various antique shops, a bookstore, two art galleries and took a tour of the local distillery. You haven’t stopped smiling at all and Cale can practically feel his heart swell every time you turn to him with nothing but excitement and adoration.

You’re walking down the busy street next to Cale, still trying to take in the entire scene when your stomach growls. The lighthearted laugh that you love so much slips past Cale’s lips and you can’t help but smile at the beautiful sound.

“Sorry,” You giggle. “I guess we should find somewhere to go for dinner, huh? I didn’t even realize how late it was.”

“Want to try that restaurant we passed before that looked good?” Cale suggests and you nod in agreement. As you both turn in the opposite direction to head back to the establishment, Cale takes a subtle leap of faith and intertwines his fingers with yours. He argues it’s just to get used to faking a relationship especially around other people, but when you smile up at him and squeeze his hand in response, he can’t help but think maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way about him.

That would be crazy though. Cale knows that.

He pushes those thoughts out of his head and focuses on dinner with you. The meal is full of laughter and recounting shared memories which fill both of your hearts to the brim. By the time you’ve both finished eating and had a few glasses of wine, the sun has fully set and the road is calmer than it was earlier.

When the waiter comes back with the check, you thank him before Cale insists on paying and you don’t object because you know he won’t budge. You try to stifle a yawn as he signs the receipt, but he somehow notices everything so it’s no surprise he asks the obvious question.

“Sleepy?” Cale chuckles, putting all his attention on you again. You feel your cheeks heating under his attentive, but soft gaze.

“A little. It’s been such a good day, just a little long.” You reply with honesty and Cale nods along in agreement.

“Well, we can’t have you falling asleep during the ceremony tomorrow so we should probably head back.”

“I guess so.” You smile at Cale before following closely behind to exit the restaurant. “Although having you there will already make the whole wedding more bearable. Thank you again for this.”

“It was an easy decision to come along with you. Plus, I can’t wait to see Ryan’s face tomorrow when he sees us together as a couple. Besides getting to spend time with you in this beautiful place, that will make the whole trip worth it.”

You giggle because the mental image is hilarious. Although the walk back to the resort isn’t long, you lean into Cale, who wraps his arm around you, and take in the serene moment. Any worries or anxieties about spending a whole day tomorrow fake dating your best friend have seemingly disappeared which you couldn’t be more grateful for. You’re determined to just enjoy the day with him and not let your feelings get tangled with whatever may happen to convince everyone at the wedding that you’re actually together.

It can’t be that hard.

But when you return back to the hotel room ready to watch a movie and call it a night, Cale seems nervous and jumpy again. It must still be the one bed situation even though you reassured him earlier that it’s fine.

“Um,” Cale starts, his voice quiet and shy. He meets your gaze for a few seconds before looking away. “Is it okay if I take the bathroom first?”

“Yeah, of course! Go ahead. I’ll just get changed real quick while you’re in there. My nighttime routine isn’t anything crazy anyway.” You chuckle, hoping to ease some of the obvious tension Cale seems to be experiencing. With a nod and a gentle smile, Cale disappears into the en suite bathroom which leaves you scourging through your suitcase for the pajamas you packed. “Where in the world are they?” You mutter to yourself before finding the set buried all the way at the bottom.

With a silent celebration, you quickly switch out your jeans for the comfy shorts and right as you’re pulling the shirt you’ve been wearing all day off, the bathroom door creaks open. Before he can catch a glimpse of anything, you face away from him and call out, “Cale! Just turn around a minute, please?”

He does as you ask, he wouldn’t ever overstep like that. But Cale’s breath was already stolen away from those brief, accidental seconds when he got to see the smooth expanse of your back, the gentle curve of your breast and your hair spilling over your shoulders.

His mind is going a million miles a minute, trying to remind him that that’s his best friend he’s thinking about this way. You’ve always been gorgeous and he’s known that since you met, but something about this moment is striking him in an entirely new way. Maybe it’s the small proximity of the hotel room. Maybe it’s that his feelings for you continue to get stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

Cale has no idea, but he’s in big trouble either way.

“Okay!” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, “I’m all good. You can turn back around.” Cale lets out a sigh when he sees your bright smile and how cozy you look in the matching blue pajama set. “All good?” You double check while trying not to make it obvious that you’re taking in just how adorable Cale looks right now.

“All good. Want me to pick the movie? And do you, uh, prefer a certain side of the bed?”

“Yes, pick the movie. Whatever you want! And nope, I’m not picky.” With that, you disappear into the bathroom for a few moments as Cale settles in. By the time you reemerge only a few minutes later, you see he picked a movie you’ve both watched a thousand times and claimed the right side of the bed. He looks so soft and cuddly which makes your heart skip a beat just at the sight of him.

Cale pats your side of the bed and gives you that sweet smile you adore so much. After slipping under the covers and plugging your phone in, he starts the movie. Despite how weird sharing a bed felt hours ago, now there’s nothing but comfort evident in this moment. You don’t know how much of the movie you actually watch before you start drifting off, head resting against Cale’s shoulder. But the last thing you remember before sleep takes over is Cale whispering a quiet “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The warm sunlight shines through the hotel room curtains, pulling you out of the peaceful dream currently unfolding in your mind. You slowly blink your eyes open and get reacquainted with where you are, in Montana with Cale for the wedding, when you realize that you’re wrapped up in a strong embrace and your head is resting against your best friend’s chest.

And before you even have time to realize you’re both practically snuggled up together which somehow must’ve happened during the night, you notice Cale’s beautiful blue eyes are focused on you and there’s a lazy, but adorable smiling donning his lips. His hair is messy from sleep and his cheeks are already rosy. He looks like a dream.

A part of you thinks that you could get used to this, but that reality still seems so far away and unlikely to happen. So you might as well enjoy the moment when it’s here.

You match his grin, lean up a little to get a better view of him and start absentmindedly playing with the loose collar of the old t-shirt he’s wearing. He watches you, waiting with patience for you to say something.

“You drool in your sleep, Makar.”

“Hm, do I?” Cale laughs softly, rubbing a hand up and down your back while the other brushes some loose hair behind your ear. “Well, I guess I should make it up to you by letting you shower first, huh?”

“That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Bathroom’s all yours then. Just let me get in there at some point before we have to leave, please. I can’t show up with my hair looking like this.”

“Your bedhead is so cute though! I don’t think anyone would mind.” You tease him back, the happiest laugh escaping past your lips as you untangle yourself from the blankets to head towards the bathroom. The moment the door closes behind you and the sound of the shower running can be heard, Cale lets out a sigh while scrubbing his hands over his face.

That felt a little too real for Cale’s liking if he’s going to try and keep all his feelings under the guise of pretending. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the banter and soft moment of waking up next to you.

As he listens to you sing a Taylor Swift song while getting ready, Cale goes through his usual routine before beginning to get dressed in his favorite suit. He happens to know it’s also your favorite suit of his so maybe, just maybe, he picked it for that reason too. He’s just fixing the navy blue tie you told him to wear so he’d match your dress when you step out of the bathroom and Cale has another moment where it feels like he can’t breathe.

You hadn’t told him anything about the dress minus its color prior to this very moment. The beautiful navy blue fabric hugs your body in all the right places and stops mid calf to showcase the pretty heels you picked to match. Cale also can’t help but notice the slit that shows off your left leg too. The straps are tied in bows at your shoulders and the dress is perfect, yet simple and you look absolutely stunning.

But Cale’s gaze catches on the glittering bracelet on your right arm. The one he gifted you as a graduation gift. The one you’ve told him you only wear for special occasions. It almost shocks Cale to his core that you’re wearing it now, but his heart couldn’t be happier.

“Wow. Y/N, you look gorgeous. So pretty.” Cale manages to get out, eyes still taking the sight of you. The bright smile that takes over your face rivals the sun which makes him practically melt on the spot. Cale knows then, more than ever, that he’s hopelessly in love with you.

“Thank you,” You say, voice shy and gentle. “You look really handsome yourself, Cale.” And he does. He’s wearing your favorite suit of his and looks incredible as always. Your heart swells just looking at him.

“Thanks,” He replies with a sweet smile before you close the space between the two of you to readjust his tie. That same surging emotion from last night rushes through his veins at the close proximity to you and when you pat his chest, signaling your work is done, he meets your gaze and takes a few seconds to remember every detail of this moment. “All ready to go?” Cale asks simply, trying to make sure he looks unaffected by what just happened.

“Mhm. Remember our story for when people ask because you know they will and we both know each other’s boundaries with PDA, so we’ll stick to what’s appropriate there, yeah?” Your best friend nods in response as he slips his fingers between yours again like it’s something that happens all the time.

“Sounds like a plan. We have to leave now so we aren’t late, sweetheart.” Cale ties the pet name out while guiding you towards the door and as your heart is racing, you can’t stop smiling knowing that today is going to be amazing with this incredible man by your side even if he’s only your fake boyfriend for the day.

And you aren’t wrong. The ceremony goes by without any hiccups. Cale keeps his hand in yours the whole time and presses the softest kisses to the side of your head throughout. You introduced Cale to a bunch of your friends as your boyfriend which only earned you more sweet smiles and gentle touches from the boy at your side. It felt like living in a blissful bubble where nothing could disrupt your fantasy even though you knew deep down this was all still pretend. There was no way Cale had real feelings for you.

The real test though is the reception. You can’t avoid Ryan forever and you have a feeling he’s going to make a point to come over and talk, but more importantly, ask about your date. Before the nerves can take over though, Cale puts all your worries away. As you both stand side by side in front of the seating chart in search of your names, he kisses your cheek and pulls you in closer to his side.

“How are you holding up?”

“Pretty good. There’s this awesome guy who is making the whole night a lot more fun than I thought it could’ve been.” You giggle, watching Cale’s cheeks brighten with the familiar pink color of blush.

“Really? Because I can’t get enough of the girl I’m here with either. Her smile is making it hard to breathe. And I’m glad she invited me along.” Cale responds with a smile on his lips and blue eyes full of nothing but adoration. His words pierce your heart in the most unexpected way because you know he means them. None of what he says is pretend to fit the show you’re both putting on.

But what could that possibly mean?

You don’t get a lot of time to think about it because Cale spots your names together under Table 8 and gives your hand a tiny squeeze before guiding you through the decorated ballroom. You take in all the beautiful sights and settle in next to Cale as you greet the other guests seated at your table. One of your college best friends is in the chair on your right which brings you even more comfort.

“Y/N!” She exclaims, giving you a hug while sporting a huge grin. “Last time we talked you didn’t mention that the handsome, but adorable professional hockey player who you always claimed to be your best friend is your boyfriend now!”

“Oh,” You chuckle, glancing at Cale who is in a conversation with one of the guests who are also sitting at your table. “We didn’t want to tell everyone just yet. But yeah, we’re together now and he’s the best.”

“I don’t know why you both waited all that time. It was obvious you two had feelings for each other the first time you met! I remember how you bursted into the campus coffeehouse with the happiest look on your face and I knew you met someone incredible.”

“It wasn’t that obvious to us for a while, I guess. But we’re making up for the lost time now.” You say softly, turning to look back at Cale as a million thoughts run through your head.

Since you met Cale, you’ve had feelings for him and for years, you never said anything because you couldn’t risk losing the best friendship you’ve ever had. But with your friend’s words echoing in your mind, you realize there is no time to waste. He didn’t even object when you asked him to be your fake boyfriend for the wedding. He has been noticeably more sweet and attentive the whole weekend and you’ve even noticed things he’s said or done that seem to be hinting at the fact he might want to be more than friends with you.

Ohmygod.

You’re in love with Cale and he most likely has feelings for you too.

Suddenly, nothing else matters except confessing the very thing you’ve tried to hide from him for years, but when you turn to ask Cale for a moment outside, the lights dim and the DJ’s voice booms through the speakers around the room.

“Everyone, please welcome the bride and groom!” Everyone stands and claps as the newlyweds enter the ballroom hand in hand with beaming smiles on their faces. The first dance song is introduced and even though you watch the couple dance together, you’re more focused on the boy next to you.

Cale’s arm is wrapped around you as a silent reminder he’s there because he probably thinks seeing your ex-boyfriend dance with his now wife at his wedding isn’t the greatest reminder that you’re single and here with a “fake” date. But you don’t even care about that right now. His touch grounds you and it’s what makes your mind up about telling Cale about how you feel.

Applause erupts again as the song finishes and almost drowns out the DJ’s next words. “The newlyweds would like to invite all couples to join them on the dance floor for this next dance.”

The familiar beginning notes of Taylor Swift’s “Lover” fill the air which makes you let out a little gasp in surprise. You love this song and Cale knows it. He can’t let this opportunity slip away from him, especially not with the plans he has.

“May I have this dance?” Cale asks softly, sporting an adorable smile while holding his hand out for you. A giggle slips past your lips as you nod and put your hand in his. He leads you out to an open spot on the crowded dance floor before pulling you into him. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your hips, eliminating any space between your body and Cale’s.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The music plays and you sing along under your breath all while never pulling your eyes away from his. How could he be so oblivious to the fact that he’s in love with you? All this time it could’ve been real, but it took a fake relationship for him to realize he can’t wait any longer to tell you how he feels even if it’s terrifying.

Little do either of you know, the same thought is going through both of your minds at the same exact time.

This is it.

“Y/N,” Cale starts when you say “Cale,” at the same time. He chuckles, trying to hide his nerves, and dips his head down before looking at you again as you both keep dancing. “You go first.”

“Okay,” You whisper, fumbling with Cale’s collar and keeping your gaze locked with his. It feels as if the rest of the ballroom falls away. There aren’t any other dancing couples or bright lights shining down. It’s just you and Cale and your favorite Taylor Swift song playing in the background. “I know this may seem like a surprise and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. This is just something I can’t hide anymore.”

Cale’s breath is knocked out of his lungs at just those few sentences. Is this really happening? Is he about to get his girl after all this time?

“I love you, Cale. I love you with my whole entire heart and I’ve known since the day we met in class, but didn’t want to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had. I realized though that it’s not your friendship that makes my life infinitely better, it’s you. And I know you came to this wedding as my fake boyfriend because I was nervous about seeing my stupid ex, which was beyond kind of you to do, but I want to leave here with you as my real boyfriend. I want to love you like I’ve dreamed of for years now.”

Time stops. Or at least Cale swears it does. He almost thinks this is all a dream except he knows it isn’t because of the tender look on your face. Nothing but love and admiration is on display across your beautiful features and he knows you’re preparing yourself for a potential reaction which is the farthest thing from the truth.

“I love you too, Y/N. Always have. Everyone around me has seen how insanely in love I am, but I couldn’t risk losing you either. You’re the most amazing person I know and it would make my heart so happy to be with you. I think we’ve proved this weekend that we can definitely make a real relationship work.” Cale replies honestly, his voice shaky. You laugh softly, your eyes filling up with tears for a moment.

This is real. He loves you too.

As you’re convincing yourself this is all real life, the bridge of the song begins and a beaming smile blossoms across Cale’s lips. He looks beautiful under the shimmery lights of the dance floor and he’s excluding pure happiness. His cheeks are rosy, blue eyes bright and you’ve never been so in love.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Cale leans forward to close the small gap between the two of you with a gentle, but passionate kiss that says everything he’s been holding back for years. You melt into him, letting the overwhelming sensation of love wash over you. And as Cale pulls you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss, your heart feels as if it might explode.

This is all you’ve wanted for so long.

When you both slowly pull away, leaning your forehead against his, the rest of the crowd dissipates as the fast paced music picks up to get the party started. There’s nothing to do but bask in the moment and commit every detail to memory. Cale hasn’t stopped beaming yet and you don’t think you’ve ever been this happy before.

“I know everyone here already thinks we’re a couple, but just wait until the guys find out. I think they’ve been waiting for this just as long as I have been.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” You chuckle, cheeks going pink from blush at the thought of Cale’s teammates hearing the news the two of you are now together. Cale is sure that he’s never seen anyone cuter in his whole entire life and now he gets to call you his.

But right now, he isn’t thinking about talking to Ryan like you’ve been dreading all day or returning home for the rest of the offseason. Cale is just focused on having the best time dancing the night away with the love of his life because he finally has you. And he won’t be letting you go anytime soon.

tagging some friends/mutuals who might be interested!

@tonyspep @starshine-hockey-girl @kailyn-writes @happer08 @rosesvioletshardy @sorryjustafangirl @laurenairay @miracleonice87 @hockeyunits @stroopwaffle8 @musiclove-12 @eightmakar @ilyasorokinn @barzysreputation @breezymichelle99 @comphyjost @comphy-and-cozy @jostystyles @ya-pucking-nerd @fallen-froots @beauvibaby @barzysunflower @boqvistsbabe @wyattjohnston @tpwkstiles @hockeylvr59 @2manytabsopen @lam-ila @nateslehky

#cale makar #cale makar fic #cale makar fics #cale makar imagines #cale makar imagine #summer fic exchange 2k23 #nhl fic #nhl imgaine #cale makar x reader #cale makar fluff #colorado avalanche

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bbygirlpascal · 1 year

Text

Caught (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

REPOSTING THIS AGAIN: accidentally deactivated my account cause I'm truly a dumb bitch.

18+ NSFW: Please don't interact with my page/posts if you are under 18.

Summary: You remember the last time you and Pedro showered together, and since Pedro isn't home yet you do the deed alone until you realize who is in the doorway...;)

Getting home and taking all this winter clothing off and getting into a hot shower is all you needed right now. It’s the dead of winter and you simply could not take it anymore. You’re so sick of waking up and being freezing the second you step out of the door. Pedro was shooting a project in Calgary and although you enjoyed staying with him throughout the filming, you could not wait for it to be over so you could both be back in that California sunshine.

You got prepped for your shower, putting on your favorite music to belt out to. Letting the anger of dealing with this bitter cold wash away as the steam swirled around you. You couldn’t help but remember the last time you were in this shower with Pedro. The way his hair clung to his face as it got wet. How he rolled his head back as he washed his hair. His manhood glistening with droplets of water splashing off of it. You felt your core pulse just at the thought of it.

Stepping out of the shower, still aroused at the thought of Pedro, you made you way over to your bed. Pedro wouldn’t be home for at least another couple hours so you took things into your own hands for the time being. Opening your bedside drawer you pulled out your toy and clicked it on. You took off your towel and tossed it to the side of the bed. Your skin chilled from the cool air in the house, making your nipple hard. You guiding the toy to your aching core, a moan quickly escaping your mouth as soon as it came in contact with you.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back into your pillows, fully immersed in this euphoric feeling. You grabbed at your nipple for extra satisfaction. Letting the toy do it’s work on you, letting out heavy, shaky breaths as it vibrated your clit perfectly. You opened your eyes and almost yelped as you saw a shadow in the door frame. Your cheeks immediately reddened once you realized who it was.

“What a sight to come home to,” Pedro said, licking his lips with a smirk and making his way over to you.

You hurried to close your legs and cover yourself, as if he’s never seen you naked before, but he put his hand on your knee and opened them up again. “No, don’t stop. I want to watch you,” he said, his eyes hungrily looking at your pussy.

“Re- really?” you stuttered, cheeks still on fire.

“Mhm, I want to see you scream my name as you cum.”

With that, you brought the little pink toy to your clit once again. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you and it made you wild. Still slightly embarrassed that he caught you, but loving that he was liking what he was seeing.

You turned the toy up a notch, the buzzing filled the room and you started moaning and biting your lip as the toy assaulted your clit.

“How does that feel, baby?” he said to you and started rubbing your thighs. “Does that little toy on your clit feel as good as I do? Huh?” he said and tilted your face towards his with his finger.

“Mmmm, no Daddy. Your cock gets me off better,” you said to him almost whimpering. You were about to cum, you could feel it building up in your tummy. “Make me cum Daddy, please.”

Pedro took a hold of the toy and practically threw it off the bed. He lowered himself in between your legs and licked up your slit. Your mouth fell a gape and you let out a deep breath, no toy could compare to how it felt when he was in between your legs. You grabbed his hair and pushed him further into your sex, craving that friction. You started grinding your hips against his tongue, his heavy breathing and sloppy wet sounds making you go crazy.

“Just like that daddy,” you said to him. He brought his hand up and started to finger your g-spot and you were about to turn into dust. “I’m gonna cum baby, holy shit,” he hummed against your pussy and you exploded. Your legs shaking around him as he lapped up your orgasm hungrily.

He got up on his knees and lowered his jeans. His cock sprung out of his boxers, deliciously hard. He ran his tip up and down your folds before he fully entered himself into you. You both let out a groan, loving every minute of that familiar sensation. His cock stretched you out perfectly as he slowly moved in and out of you slowly, like pleasurable torture.

“My pretty girl takes daddy’s cock so well,” he said as he lowered onto his hands so he was hovering over you. Your mouths locked together in sloppy, wet, hungry kisses. He picked up the pace of his thrusts and that with his mouth locked on your neck, giving you goosebumps was like sensational suicide. You couldn’t take it, letting moan after moan escape from your lips.

“I’m gonna cum princess, god,” Pedro said breathlessly, his hips rolling at a steady pace and hitting you just right. He came up, grabbed your legs with each of his hands and slammed into your pussy. “Fuck baby, look at me,” he demanded and you looked right into his eyes as he finished inside of you. You both were out of breath as he rolled over to lay beside you.

“So why were you using that toy without me anyways? Hm?” Pedro said a chuckled, you playfully slapped him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic rec #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x y/n #hbo the last of us #the mandolorian #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff

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misshoneyimhome · 7 months

Note

i have more of a cute ask then a smut one but going back to the interview will did in sweden, what if it was him getting asked if he’s single and he starts talking abt his gf and how much he loves her and it’s all cute

Bb, you had me at cute ask ❤️ I’m all with you on this one, because let’s face it, that boy may not fall easily, but when he does, it’s deep 😉

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Cause All of Me, Loves All of You

William had grown used to being in the spotlight.

As a star player for the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team, his exceptional talent had consistently garnered attention. However, in recent years, he had found himself in the spotlight even more.

Currently on a global series tour, the team had the pleasure of playing in what he considered to be his hometown of Stockholm. Despite his birthplace being in Calgary, Canada, Sweden had always felt more like home to William. His familial roots lay in Sweden, and everything from the language to the traditions and homey cuisine resonated deeply with him, reflecting his strong connection to Swedish culture.

And as the team arrived in Stockholm, the media naturally focused their attention on the charming 27-year-old. Interviews, signing sessions, and a flurry of media engagements ensued.

Yet, none of this could have prepared him for what was about to unfold next.

William had been asked to appear on a national Swedish talk show hosted by the charming Bianca, to which he’d graciously accepted. It was nothing like he’d ever done before, but since he’d done numerous of interviews, he figured it might be enjoyable to give it a shot.

And as he sat comfortably in the make-up chair, nearly ready for the show, you quietly peeked in to check on him.

Him. Your boyfriend. William Andrew Michael Junior Nylander Altelius.

You had met him several months back, and casually dated for weeks before deciding to elevate your relationship to a more serious level.

Though he had shared snippets of his life on social media, he had never directly mentioned you. During interviews he’d deliberately avoided any mention of girls or dating, focusing solely on hockey, as instructed by managers. Not that you minded at all.

The spotlight belonged to him, not you. And you respected his desire to keep his private life just that - private - and to shield his loved ones from the unpredictable nature of the media.

At first, it had stung a bit, the thought that he might be embarrassed or not serious about you. However, following a heartfelt conversation after a minor disagreement, you came to understand his reasons for keeping your relationship private – he wanted to shield you from potential scrutiny.

And as time passed, your relationship evolved, and eventually, neither of you fretted much about others' opinions.

With a gentle stride, you approached him, a smile gracing your lips as you glanced at him through the mirror, feeling immensely proud of your remarkable man.

"Ready for the big spotlight?" you teased lightly, eliciting a soft laugh from William.

"Sure," he replied nonchalantly.

"Feeling okay, darling?"

William nodded gently. "Yeah, I suppose I'm just a bit nervous... I've never done anything like this before."

"You'll be brilliant, Willy," you reassured, leaning against the make-up stand, gazing down at him with a tender expression. "Everyone will adore you."

"What if I mess up?" he asked timidly, despite knowing he had been well-prepped and having years of experience in media work. Nevertheless, a faint sense of uncertainty lingered within him.

"Come on, babe, you've practically aced situations like this a million times," you reassured him with a comforting smile. "If they start digging into your personal life, smoothly turn the conversation back to hockey. And if they bring up anything negative about your career, family, or anything else that makes you uneasy, just flash them that stunning, confident smile of yours and throw in a cheeky comeback."

Your words seemed to soothe William; his tense muscles gradually relaxing as he regained control over his racing heartbeat.

"And in the worst-case scenario, use the political strategy - answer a question with another question. Journalists hate that," you chuckled, your unconventional communication advice amusing William.

"Wow, babe, you should be in PR," he jested, earning a playful huff from you.

"Yeah, right. Dealing with people and the media all day? No thanks, I'm good sticking to my desk," you retorted with a wink, teasingly.

And amidst your shared laughter, the crew arrived to usher William away and prepare him for the interview.

"See you later, babe," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on your lips as he rose from his seat. "You'll be backstage the whole time, yeah?"

"Of course," you replied with a soft smile. As William exited the dressing room, your gaze lingered on the man you deeply loved, observing him getting ready for the show, a profound sense of pride and happiness filling you.

And as the stage lights prepared to illuminate and the show was set to commence, William felt the heat more than expected. The temperature seemed much higher than he'd anticipated, so despite his initial confidence in his casual attire for the night, the loose jacket gradually became too much. Eventually, he opted to ditch it, appearing on stage solely in a white tank top.

Your eyes fixated on him as he shed the jacket, causing you to gently bite your lower lip at the sight. "Fuck, he looks good," you thought, simultaneously feeling a twinge of disappointment as he exposed his impressive physique to the world.

But quickly shaking off the feeling, you reminded yourself that you'd be the only one appreciating his body later tonight. That is until Bianca remarked on his toned physique, and Marinna, sweetly and slightly embarrassed, delicately touched his upper arm while praising his defined muscles.

And she wasn't wrong.

William did indeed possess an impressive physique. His body bore the results of elite sports training - muscles finely sculpted and defined, with a hint of thickness that hinted at his love for food, almost rivalling his passion for hockey.

Among his many physical attributes, his thighs stood out, at least in your opinion. They were solid, strong, and defined, and overall, your favourite spot to snuggle up against.

Then there was his torso - a well-built frame adorned with a light smattering of chest hair that you often playfully ran your fingers through.

And those arms, strong enough to envelop you in a tight embrace, effortlessly lifting you as if you weighed nothing at all.

You understood precisely how the two women felt, sitting next to your boyfriend, their eyes lingering on him with a hint of desire. And a slight smirk danced on your lips.

The show went on smoothly. William handled each question with professionalism, infusing his responses with his trademark laughter, showcasing both his expertise and his enjoyment.

However, it was the subsequent line of questioning that caught you completely off guard. Bianca, far from being subtle, dove straight in with her probing questions.

"So, you're single?" Bianca inquired, obviously aiming to captivate the attention of anyone eager to hear that coveted 'yes' slip from William's lips.

And though you half-expected that response, considering he'd never publicly acknowledged your relationship, his words proved you wrong.

"No… No, I'm actually not," William chuckled.

Your heart sank at his announcement of his relationship status, fully aware that this would be broadcasted worldwide, potentially sparking a flurry of quotes and discussions across the internet.

"Aha, and who's the lucky person?" Bianca inquired, maintaining her professional tone.

William paused, contemplating how much to reveal. He understood that you preferred a low-profile existence, and his management had advised keeping his dating life discreet for as long as possible.

Yet, an overwhelming urge surged within him to pour out everything he adored about you. He wanted the world to know; how you crossed paths, seamlessly integrating into his chaotic life, adjusting effortlessly to his roller-coaster schedule. He yearned to shout out his love for you, to express how incredible you were for standing by his side through every high and low, and to proclaim your stunning beauty, kindness, and unwavering care. He wanted everyone to know it all.

However, composed he tried to remain, a broad grin crossed his face as he began, "She's this wonderful person who entered my life a few months back, and luckily for me, she decided to stick around," he added a casual jest, though he could feel his heart racing and his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink, by the mention of you.

"So, you've been together for a while?" Bianca probed.

"Um, only a couple of months… It took me ages to ask her out and convince her to go on a date with me," he chuckled, lightly rubbing his slightly sweaty hands together, excitement coursing through his body.

"Wait, she didn't want to go out with you at first?" Bianca chuckled lightly. "Wow, she must be out of her mind - how did that go?"

William couldn't hide his pure excitement as he started talking about you. "Oh, she definitely is! I mean, she's just so amazing and wonderful, probably way out of my league," he blurted out, his words running ahead of his thoughts. "She's intelligent, funny, and initially, she kept laughing whenever I asked her out because she thought I was joking. But on my fifth attempt, she finally agreed to give me a chance."

"On your fifth try? That's keeping a man on his toes," Bianca remarked, intrigued by the unfolding tale.

"Oh yeah, she definitely didn't make it easy, but it only made me want to get her to say yes more," William confessed, his eyes reflecting the nostalgia of those initial weeks after meeting you.

"So, what changed her mind about you?" Bianca inquired, observing William as he pondered his response.

"Honestly, I'm not sure - perhaps someone convinced her that I'm an alright guy and she should give it a shot," he answered, his words not far from the truth.

In reality, when William had persistently pursued you, and you had turned him down multiple times due to his overly confident yet enticing demeanour, it was Auston Matthews who convinced you to give William a chance. With his own charm, Auston had convinced you by highlighting how much William desired not just a physical connection but found your energy and personality irresistible.

"And things worked out in the end?" Bianca probed further.

"Well, somehow, yes," William continued. "I managed to take her out on a few dates, but relying solely on charm didn't work. I had to prove that I meant everything behind my words and eventually express how I truly felt."

As William delved into a more emotionally charged aspect of the conversation, his voice gradually relaxed. Expressing deep feelings had never been his forte, a pivotal moment in your relationship when you had urged him to be straightforward and honest because you couldn't read his thoughts.

This nudged him to make a genuine effort to articulate his innermost feelings, leading to heartfelt conversations about your emotions for each other.

Bianca smiled, noticing the interview taking on a more romantic tone, and then Marianna joined in.

"Did she make you ask?" she sweetly inquired. "Did you have to ask her to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, absolutely," William chuckled again. "Yes, I had to ask directly, otherwise, she said it didn't count."

Laughter and smiles filled the studio as William's infectious laughter resonated once more.

The situation had unfolded just as William described.

He hadn't initially considered discussing labels, content with enjoying your company. But you, well acquainted with boys like him, knew their tendency to keep a girl around until they grew bored and moved on. So, you diplomatically and casually laid down the options: either you were dating with a view to be serious or simply good friends with benefits - exceptionally good benefits, of course.

So, realizing that to keep you exclusively for himself, William needed to take a more direct approach, and eventually he asked you directly, to which you naturally responded with a 'yes'.

As the interview gradually drew to a close, you found yourself unable to contain your amusement. Though slightly taken aback by William's sudden honesty and directness in discussing you, you couldn't help but smile.

Amidst the final applause and the cameraman calling "cut," William stood up and made his way backstage to join you before meeting up with his friends and family.

A smile graced your lips as you welcomed your man with open arms, both of you enveloping each other in a deep, affectionate hug followed by a tender kiss.

"You were amazing, babe," you gently praised after parting from the embrace, gazing up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Yeah, you think so? I hope I didn't share too much - I felt like I just kept talking and talking, and-"

"Willy," you interrupted his rambling. "You were perfect, love - I'm just surprised you said all those things about… us."

"Well, I just wanted everyone to know how much I love you… and," he exhaled softly, as if it were a relief to finally share his deep thoughts. "I can't stop thinking about how much I want you around all the time and… I never want you to leave me."

In that fleeting moment of profound tenderness, your heart quickened at his heartfelt words.

"Willy… I'll never leave you. I love you so much, and I'll always be by your side," you whispered gently, still wrapped in his embrace, feeling the reassurance as his arms tightened around you, drawing you closer.

"Promise?" he softly asked, his eyes reflecting a hint of concern.

"I promise," you almost breathed out, drawing him into another deep kiss.

For a moment, it felt as if the world had faded away, leaving both of you lost in the intimacy, until Calle's voice abruptly shattered the intimate bubble.

"Jeez, Willy, you might as well have proposed on stage with that speech about your girl," he chuckled loudly as he and the other Swedes joined you.

"Oh, please don't give him any ideas," you laughed lightly, with a hint of seriousness, gently pulling back from William's embrace, though his arm remained securely around your waist.

"Don't worry about that," Calle teased further. "He's already got it all planned out."

William chuckled along with his friend's playful banter, knowing that there might indeed be a hint of truth in it. At least in his heart, he was set on making you his completely one day, ready to offer you half of what he owned and all of his heart.

#my asks #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey imagine #wn88 imagine

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bitchinbarzal · 11 months

Note

Hey! Can you write something about being Matthews date to bradys wedding and just thinking about your own wedding in the future 🤍

you’d flown into jersey late the night before the wedding, having to miss the rehearsal dinner due to a work commitment your boss sprung on you last minute.

Both Brady and Emma understood, they were more than understanding of the circumstances.

So when the morning came and you’d finally made your way to Natirar for the ceremony you were so tight on time you hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to see Matthew.

You’d run into Brady in the hallway but not your boyfriend, wishing him luck and fixing his tie when he gave you a “thanks sis!”

you’d texted Matthew that you’d arrived and we’re with the rest of the bridesmaids. Matthew’s mom gasped when she saw you in your dress, making you do a little twirl

“You look so beautiful! He’s going to just die-“

“This isn’t about myself and Matt”

She rolls her eyes playfully “i wish that boy would just ask you to marry him already! I want more daughters than I have sons and legally I am equal now”

When the ceremony started, Matthew was by the alter with his brother, who was rightfully in tears waiting for his bride but Matt couldn’t console him as soon as he saw you.

Matthew’s chest tightened and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when he saw you. You were clutching the flowers so tightly he knew you were nervous.

When you reached the alter and took your space you finally caught his eyes and he watched as your entire demeanour relaxed.

After pictures, greeting guests among everything else at the reception you finally found one another, all but jumping into his arms

“Oh I missed you!”

“Hey pretty girl, you’re hard to track down” he jokes, kissing your forehead

“Tell me about it, i saw Mark, your brother, Jack Hughes, Quinn and your dad all this morning but not you”

“You’ve got me now”

You nod “That i do, dance with me?”

He led you out onto the dance floor, your head on his shoulder as you swayed to the music

“Ever think about it?” Matt mumbles and you lift your head, frowning at him softly

“Think about what, baby?”

“Our wedding”

You crack a soft smile “all the time”

He looks surprised “really?”

You hum, hand trailing to his chest and say “I wanna get married in Calgary”

“Calgary? Really?”

Nodding you respond “Calgary gave me you, it made us. If the team gave you nothing, the city gave you everything. It gave me my everything” he smiles softly at your fondness “Calgary taught us love, it taught us forgiveness, it’s where we had our first major fight, where we did long distance for that short time, it’s where we bought our first home together”

Matthew is in awe that you’ve thought so much into this “Calgary it is then”

“No argument?”

“If my wife wants it, she gets it”

You push away from him playfully “Not your wife yet Tkachuk”

He groans “Not yet, just you wait”

At the end of the night, with sore feet and dizzy heads you were back in your room and taking off your makeup while Matthew opened his bag and stared at the black ring box that he’d taken everywhere with him for the past year.

His moment of reflection was interrupted by your drunken shouts of “hey matty did I ever say how much I love you?!”

#matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine

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matthewtkachuk · 2 years

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you are the artist and i am the paint - quinn hughes

One week with Quinn in the offseason reveals several truths (aka best friends to lovers with a dash of mutual idiocy)

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

warnings: the ush (drinking, angst, etc. etc.), could be an artist au if you squint

words: 4.6k

a/n: this is the canucks thanksgiving video's fault. also @hotanddistraught's fault. big ups to @antoineroussel for making me a custom gif and also proofreading the hell out of this thing love you. currently stuck in a calgary airport hotel because canadian airlines suck, but the canucks nabbed a win so ya'll get a treat <3

Summer is bittersweet.

For every positive feeling you have over taking a break from your schooling and having the opportunity to make some cash at your summer internship, there are ten more negative ones that revolve around the end of the hockey season taking your best friend away from you.

It’s silly, likely, to let one person’s presence, or lack thereof, dictate the general tone of your four month break from school. A bit ridiculous, really, to miss someone terribly when you saw them just last week when you dropped him off at the airport and leaned into the hug at departures for a minute too long. And pathetic, most definitely, to watch his private instagram story more than once for the brief glimpse of a real, genuine smile.

Passing on the opportunity to go out for drinks in Yaletown—on a Wednesday in May for no reason other than the majority of your friend group was free of academia for the next few months—was not at all typical behavior for you. Your friends liked to joke that there wasn’t a happy hour in the metro Vancouver area that you hadn’t personally shut down.

The teasing didn’t really bother you; what was so bad about mixing your frugal nature with yummy cocktails and appetizers? That blasé attitude was likely at least 90% responsible for the confusion in the group chat. The other 10% related to your friend Daniel’s confirmation that he would be showing up and using his ‘family credit card’ to get the first round. If there was nary a happy hour you met that you didn’t like, there wasn’t a free round of drinks you didn’t love.

Regardless, they finally leave you alone almost 45 minutes after arriving at the first club, other than the occasional shaky photo of someone’s drink every now and then.

The silence is kind of nice without your loud mouthed roommate and the rest of your friend group who had spent the better part of the late afternoon pregaming. Nice, but lonely, and it only reminds you that your best friend is on the other side of the continent. Luckily for you, the true reason behind your uncharacteristic skipping of girls’ (+ Daniel) night out makes itself known by the erratic vibration of your phone somewhere in your duvet cover.

Less luckily for you, you can’t find the damn thing until you grab the bottom corners and shake out the heavy blanket and send your phone flying onto the floor. It’s a struggle to grab it before the phone call ends and flop back onto your now half-made bed, and it’s obvious by the way you struggle to catch your breath while also muttering a greeting into the phone.

“Were you working out?”

The question has you doing some strange combination of a laugh, wheeze and choke that takes a solid minute to pull yourself out of before you reply, “Nope.”

You can almost picture the exasperated yet fond smile that might be taking over Quinn’s face as he asks, “You doin’ alright without me?”

“Never,” is your answer before you quickly shift gears into recapping the latest roommate boy drama and how much you hate your manager.

It’s a long conversation, the kind you have with a friend you only catch up with once a year despite only being away from each other for a week. You love hearing about the shenanigans Quinn’s getting up to with his brothers; love the feeling of relaxation and relief that practically radiates through the phone and his tone as he speaks about home. When he tells you about thinking about maybe taking a class at UMich this summer, you only encourage him—which is a far cry from the taunt Jack threw at him when he had first brought it up. The skin of your cheeks grows warm when you overhear his mom asking who is on the phone followed up by a sweet “My mom wants me to tell you she says hi.”

At some point throughout the night you turn off the big light and turn on your salt lamp, jump into your pajamas and tuck yourself deep under the covers. It’s easy then, in the warmth and comfort of your duvet and with Quinn’s voice lulling you to sleep to close your eyes.

“So, uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come stay here for a week or two in July...?” You think you maybe hear him ask.

Unfortunately for Quinn, your only answer is the rustling of sheets and a soft snore.

The beginning of summer passes a lot like it began, although with you partaking in more after work drinks with friends than not. You work and you don’t study and you certainly don’t mope around downtown Vancouver counting down the days until September.

Quinn starts taking a class that fits in with his schedule of spending as much time as he can with his family and friends back home while also keeping up his offseason training regimen. He’s pretty tight lipped about it all, secretive and reserved in a way you’re not quite used to from your friend of several years, answering in half truths and changing the subject when he can. It’s not really your business anyway, and so you let him get away with terrible segues that you would normally tease him for.

He does ask you again a few weeks later if you want to come down to Michigan for a week or two, turning your protests about not being able to afford it into not wanting to intrude or let him pay your way into conceding that you can give him a week in mid July.

That’s about the time Jack grabs the phone from his older brother’s grasp, turning the regular phone call into a Facetime that gives you the gift of watching Quinn chase after him, his awkward little run having no right to be as endearing as it is.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” he says later, having locked himself in the master bedroom of the house he shares with Jack (and sometimes Luke). His hair’s a mess and his cheeks are flushed

“I’m really glad, too,” you smile. “Now tell me what class you’re taking.”

“Would you look at the time, sorry we gotta head to my parent’s house.”

You roll your eyes, but let him go with the explicit promise that he’ll call later.

Somehow May and June simultaneously fly by and drag all at the same time. Each eight hour shift takes a hundred hours to pass, while your days off come and go in the blink of an eye. Every day you get closer to the date circled in red ink on your calendar; no indication of what the date means other than the word Michigan written in bold, capital letters.

When July hits, it really hits you that you’re getting to see Quinn

There’s a giddy sort of feeling in your stomach, the kind that usually pops up right before Quinn comes home in September. You’ve never been to Michigan before, it didn’t work with the mix of your serving job and classes you’d regretfully chosen to take the last couple of summers in an attempt to get ahead in your degree, and the first year you hadn’t really known Quinn well enough for him to take you home to meet the parents.

Not that that was what this was, of course. You weren’t Quinn’s girlfriend or anything, nervous to earn his mom and dad’s approval, gain the acceptance of his brothers. It wasn’t like that at all with you and Quinn. Besides, you already had it from the times the family had flown to Vancouver—it was just a fact of life, parents loved you. And Jack and Luke loved to team up with you to embarrass Quinn.

You were just excited to see a friend two months earlier than you would normally see him, that’s all.

Super casual, super platonic, super friendly. Super.

Which is why you’ve had your bags packed since you flipped over the Canucks calendar Quinn had jokingly gifted you for Christmas to a picture of Thatcher.

Kimmy graciously offers to drive you to the airport, even if you could totally take the skytrain if you had to. “Just remember I’m your favorite roommate,” is the only explanation she gives, ignoring the fact that she’s your only roommate.

“You know you’re only going for a week,” she says bright and early Monday morning, eyebrows raising high above the line of her sunglasses.

“Shut up,” is all you can manage, tossing your luggage in her trunk and skulking over to the front seat where you buckle in and immediately make a grab for her coffee mug.

“Thought you’d be more excited,” she mutters, pulling out of the parking garage.

“I am excited,” you reply, downing half of the mug even if it isn’t made exactly the way you like it. It’s black and bitter and doesn’t have an ounce of sweetener or cream in it, but it’s caffeine and you feel like the human embodiment of Quinn’s eye bags right now.

Kimmy has the grace to keep her mouth shut for the entire car ride, only turning up the radio a little when a Taylor Swift song comes on. She keeps quiet even as she pulls into the departures lane and hops out to help you with your luggage and wrap you up in a big hug.

Quiet, until she opens her mouth at the last minute that is. “Bye babe, say hi to your boyfriend for me!”

It makes you want to toss your personal item at her, but you refrain from making too large of a scene in the last place you want to be making a large scene, settling for scratching your nose with your middle finger and offering a rebuttal of “he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Sure babe, see you in a week.”

Rolling your eyes you walk into the airport. Security and customs are an uncharacteristic breeze, leaving you time to grab another coffee and try to become more of a human before the six hour flight to Michigan. Quinn’s blowing up your phone, the consequence of a three hour time difference and his career requiring many early mornings that yours did not.

“Quinn’s lucky I love him,” you grumble angrily later, attempting to shove your overstuffed carryon into the overhead bin. The thought gives you pause and you freeze with your hands against the piece of luggage. It’s true, you really do love him.

Luckily a flight attendant pops up behind you and one well timed shove gets the bag into place and you’re able to continue your moment of crisis in your seat. It’s not like you didn’t know you loved him—he’s your best friend, of course you love him. You love all your friends, freely and openly and purposefully. But you love him love him. Like, wanna wake up with your head on his chest love him, want to plan your future around him love him, want to wear a hideous jean jacket with his name and number on a patch love him.

Crisis is probably too harsh a word, it’s more of a gentle realization, the slow pulling of a train into a station after a long journey.

“You love him.”

Startled, you turn to the older woman in the window seat you weren’t willing to pay $50 to switch to. “What?”

“I know that look on your face,” Chatty Cathy continues. “Same one I had on my wedding day.”

Just because you’ve had the realization on your own doesn’t mean you’re ready to have the conversation with someone else. Not Quinn, not Kimmy, not your mom, and definitely not someone else’s grandmother. “I’m just visiting a friend.”

She gives you a knowing look. “No one visits just a friend in Michigan.”

It’s enough to have you putting in your headphones and turning the volume up on your favorite playlist.

You don’t escape Chatty Cathy after you deplane, she’s right behind you all the way through the terminal.

There’s a message from Quinn when your phone finally connects to the wifi at Wayne County Airport that simply states “Here” which leads you to believe he’s probably waiting in his car at the pick up area just outside and so you’re not looking for him as you walk.

The woman finds who you presume to be her husband first, sinking into an embrace that makes even your cold heart melt a little.

And then you hear your name being called and Quinn’s standing right in front of you. Realistically it’s been a couple months but it kind of feels like you’re a military wife and your husband has finally returned from war. Abandoning all pretenses, you drop your bags and fling yourself at him.

He catches you easily with a chuckle in your ear. “Missed you too.”

After what you know is an inappropriate amount of time, you finally disentangle yourself, dragging your hands down from his shoulders to his chest. “You look good, Q.”

Before you can grab your bags, Quinn’s grabbing them with an “I got it.” You follow along like a lost puppy, passing by the woman who raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Who’s that?”

“No one, I just sat by her on the flight.”

He shrugs. “C’mon let’s drop off your bags at home and then my mom really wants to see you.”

“You don’t have to help with dishes,” Ellen tells you after supper as she washes a large pot in the sink.

“My mom raised me better than that,” you laugh, drying the dishes she’s already cleaned.

“She certainly did.” A pleased smile takes over your face and your stomach warms at her words. “You know, I used to worry about Quinn the most. Jack’s never had issues making his feelings known, and Luke’s still close to home. Plus Jack’s got Dani in Jersey. But my Quinn has always been such a quiet boy with his heart on his sleeve and I worried about him being all alone in another country.”

“You don’t worry anymore?” you ask, thanking her for handing you the pot.

“No,” she stops and looks at you. “He has you.”

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, or to tell her that you have him too, so you don’t.

Quinn enters the kitchen a minute or two later and shoos his mother out. “Let me finish those, mom. You go sit.”

It’s oddly domestic, doing the dishes side by side in his family home. Almost like it was the home you shared together as part of a joint life you’d built.

Except not, because you can hear his brothers arguing in the next room until their mom shushes them both.

When you’re finally done with the dishes, there’s a movie set up in the living room, with the only option of seating the small loveseat.

The look on both Jack and Luke’s faces tells you it was on purpose.

Quinn and Jack are both too tired after supper to drive home, and so everyone stays the night in the Hughes’ home. Quinn’s old bedroom became the spare room, and the spare room became a sewing-storage-office room hybrid, and so you find yourself in the same bed as your best friend.

It’s no big deal, really, you’ve done it before. Just, not before finally giving into the realization that you were in love with him.

You try to sleep, but your mind and heart are racing.

“Are you sleeping?” you ask into the darkness. Quinn’s close enough that you could conceivably reach over and touch him, but you keep your hands to yourself.

“Trying to,” he grumpily grumbles back, bringing a smile to your face.

Your flip onto your side so that you’re facing him in the dark is far less graceful than you’d planned it to be in your head, but you manage. “Why did you decide to take a class this summer? I’m sure you could have found a million other ways to fill the time.”

It’s quiet for so long that you wonder if he really did fall asleep, until his far more dignified roll over signifies that he’s as awake as you are. “I’m only a couple semesters away from my degree,” he says like it explains everything, and maybe if you were someone else it would. But this is your best friend and you kind of want to know everything about him.

“I mean, same, but if I was making several mill a year I can’t say that I’d be rushing to finish my degree.”

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing again, shoved your whole foot in your mouth when you should have left well enough alone. “I know, but it could all go away in a second. One bad hit, or an accident, or something else outside of my control.”

His tone of voice nearly breaks your heart at the same time as the words he speaks plunges your heart into ice cold water. The thought of Quinn hurt, of him losing everything scares you. “Don’t say that, you’re going to be like Jagr, still playing at 50 years old.”

“I hope not,” he laughs, and it settles the feeling in your chest. When he yanks you closer, it all but dissipates. Tentatively, you sling an arm over his abdomen and rest your head on his chest.

You mull it all over in your head, distracted by the way he plays with the ends of your hair until you speak up again. “You’re more than hockey, Quinn.” He hums out a non-committal answer and you figure humor is the way to move forward. “Besides, you can always just bum off Jack and Luke.”

He tugs on your hair in response, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Ta-da!”

Jack’s a real smart ass from the backseat that he’d insisted on sitting in as Quinn pulls into the driveway of a very nice house. House might be putting it lightly, as a kid you’d called this kind of residence a McMansion.

“Shit this is nice,” is your initial reaction.

It makes Quinn smile, which is exactly what you were going for. “It’s alright.”

You shove him and then unbuckle your seatbelt. “Shut up.”

The grand tour Jack promised is pretty lackluster, a handful of guest rooms that mean you won’t have a bed buddy tonight, a kitchen you’re certain neither of them have used on their own and enough bathrooms that you don’t have to worry about how long Jack takes to do his hair in the morning.

There is one door that catches your attention. It’s one of the only ones that is shut, and when Jack shakes the handle it doesn’t budge. “This is where Quinn keeps dead bodies.”

Quinn’s somewhere else in the house but he hears all the same and shouts back, “I don’t keep dead bodies!”

Jack nods solemnly and stage whispers, “That’s actually true, they’re buried in the backyard under the pool.”

Super human hearing Quinn shouts again, “there are no dead bodies!”

You roll your eyes but continue the tour until you end up in the living room where Quinn’s reclined in the lazy boy, texting. It’s too tempting to pass up, and so you plop on the arm of the chair and peer over his shoulder. “What’s Petey up to?”

He drops his phone quickly, a blush beginning to form at the top of his ears. “Wasn’t Petey.” It’s a strange reaction, one that has you suspicious—not that you have a reason to be. But if it wasn’t Elias then who? Was it a girl? The thought makes your stomach hurt.

Shoving down the conflicted feelings, you ruffle his hair a little to be a nuisance until he slaps your hand away. “What’s in the locked room Quinn?”

“Nothing.”

You poke him hard in the upper arm once, then twice. “Don’t make me poke it out of you.”

It institutes a little poking war that has you giggling until Jack breaks it up. “Get a room, you two.”

It’s a little awkward then, and so you slide off the chair’s arm. “I’m gonna go change and then lounge by the pool if anyone wants to join.”

As you walk away, you hear the unmistakable sound of a slap and then Quinn’s voice muttering “Idiot.”

The week flies by way too fast. Between meeting all Quinn’s friends and drinking them under the table, spending time with his family, and being shown around the places that meant so much to him. It has you wishing you’d found a way to make two weeks work, but it had been hard enough getting your shifts covered for the time you were here.

“Quit your job and stay here,” Quinn tells you when you say as much.

Huffing, you move from laying on the deck chair to lean on your elbows so that you can glare at him. It’s a moot point, since your sunglasses are covering your eyes anyway. “Quit being stupid. Some of us have tuition and bills to pay.”

“I could pay your bills,” he says quietly. Sincerely, even.

His gentle disposition is no match for your sarcasm, however. “Oh yeah? And what would I have to do in return? Be your kept woman? Do your laundry? No thanks.” Although, the thought of returning to school in the fall while balancing your jobs means the idea isn’t as horrific as it could be. Plus you’re pretty sure Quinn’s one of the least disgusting people you know…

“Nah, we can hire out someone to do the cleaning.”

You relax back into your chair because frankly your upper arms were getting sore. “Okay so in this hypothetical scenario, you’re gonna share your vast fortune with me with nothing expected in return?”

“Yep pretty much.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe.”

Lounging around doing nothing gets boring as the sun beats down on you both. It’s your last day in Michigan and you kind of don’t want it to ever end.

“Let’s go for a drive?” you blurt out impulsively.

“Okay.”

Quinn takes you for the highlight reel, showing you around various places that mean something to him, including a stop at his parents so you can say your proper goodbye to them and Luke.

And then you end up at a cozy little diner where you order a large fry to share and two milkshakes.

“You’ve got a little something right there,” he says, pointing to the corner of his mouth. “Nope, you missed it. Still missing it.”

It takes you a full minute to realize he’s messing with you. “Shut up!” you laugh and kick him under the table. He captures your leg, pinning it between his own, nonchalantly picking at the fries on the table while you visibly struggle to free yourself. “Jerk!”

“I like having you here,” Quinn admits a beat or two later.

The dramatic indignation leaves your body at his admission and you slump a little in the booth. “I like being here… jerk.”

He smiles, but doesn’t let your leg go and for some reason you don’t seem to mind.

When the bill comes, he’s a lot faster to slap down his credit card than you are. Probably because you were expecting them to bring a machine that you could use your card at rather than let a random stranger take your credit card to the back for whatever nefarious purposes they so chose.

The debate of the security of tap versus having your credit card taken from you carries over from the table into the car, and by the time you get back to Quinn’s, you’re satisfied you’ve won this round.

“I don’t want to go to bed yet, if I go to sleep the morning will come quick,” you say softly when Quinn asks if you’re headed to bed when you get back.

“Yeah, I know.” He’s quiet again, an inner conflict raging across his face until, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

It’s like you know before he’s even led you towards the stairs that you’re finally going to see what’s going on in the locked room. “Are you about to show me your dead bodies, Quintin?”

His exasperated sigh is more fond than annoyed, “There are no dead bodies!” When he pushes the door open, you quickly come to realize it’s a makeshift painting room, with various colored paints scattered around the room and a sheet covering the floor. At the far end of the room lies an easel with a finished painting set on it.

“She’s beautiful, Quinn,” you say, taking a step closer to admire the artwork in front of you. You barely manage to stop yourself from trailing the delicate lines of her face with your fingers.

“She’s you,” he admits shyly, head ducked down and rose flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “You’re beautiful.”

“I didn’t know you saw me that way,” you whisper, eyes locked on the physical representation of Quinn’s vision of you.

“You never asked.”

Finally you tear your eyes away from the canvas, spinning around to face him. “Quinn—“

“It’s not—I don’t expect anything from you or anything. It’s the final project for my class. I didn’t tell you I was taking an art class at first because I was worried it wouldn’t work out, but then we were given our assignments and the final project was to paint something you, well, something you love.”

You say his name again but he keeps talking, almost a man possessed as if he can’t stop the words from falling from his tongue.

“I love you, like, Capital L love you. I have for a long time. Maybe since the night we met, I don’t know. One conversation and I knew you were it for me. But, like I said before, I don’t expect any—“

You can’t take it anymore, you’re impossibly endeared to this man and his awkward rambling and his slightest hint of a lisp, and you press your lips to his.

Quinn doesn’t reciprocate at first, frozen in place and so you wait, counting the seconds until he finally moves, gripping your face in his hands and kissing you like he means it.

You don’t stop kissing.

You kiss and you kiss and you kiss; that night you kiss as you strip each other of your clothes, the next morning you kiss morning breath and all when you wake up together. You kiss over breakfast and you kiss at red lights on the way to the airport and at departures.

“Stay,” he says, kissing you again much to the displeasure of the pretty college coed who’d asked for a photo and his autograph not five minutes ago. You lean into it, tilting your head and sliding your hand through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Can’t,” you reply when you pull back. “Bills to pay, remember?”

“Let me take care of it for you.”

“As if.” You laugh and pat his cheek. “I gotta go, I’ll see you in a couple weeks. Love you.”

The words are enough to have him let you go, but not before reciprocating and one last, lingering kiss. He stands to the side with his hands in his pockets, determined to watch you leave until he can’t see you anymore.

“Told you so,” a voice sounds from behind you in the security line.

Spinning around you see Chatty-although-not-incorrect Cathy. There’s no mistaking the look on your face this time, no amount of deflecting would ever be seen as anything less than extreme deception and so you shrug. “Guess you did.”

#nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader #shelb writes

701 notes · View notes

broadstbroskis · 1 year

Text

cruel summer | matthew tkachuk

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more

15k, summer romance, fwb to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, significant references from cruel summer

+playlist

a/n: hi! i’m back, maybe! kinda. i am not exaggerating when i tell you this has been years in the making. someone once asked me a question about what song i would love to write a fic about and i said cruel summer by taylor swift. shoutout to them, whoever you are, for inspiring this! at some point, i lots of continuity errors that are not really relevant to the plot (i.e. matthew was traded to the panthers, although neither calgary nor florida appear in this, ages, etc.)

HUGE thanks to the many friends who cheerleaded me on with this. some of you don’t even go here anymore, i love you still and hope you’re all doing well. for those of you that still are ( @blueskrugs @matthewtkachuk @miracleonice87 @laurenairay probably more, i’m sorry i’m forgetting!) you are all amazing, i love you, you’re all incredible and supportive and the best!

Growing up, your year was split into three seasons: football season, lacrosse season, and summers at Cape Cod.

Your dad’s football season began early; he’d go off to training camp well before your mom would move you and your brother back home for the school year, and even once he’d retired from the sport and moved into a broadcasting role, he was still back and forth for the last month of summer much more frequently than the rest of you.

Lacrosse came next, the sport that both you and your brother loved. Once preseason began, it was all you lived and breathed until the season was over, whether that was in heartbreak or absolute elation.

But for all that you loved lacrosse, summers at Cape Cod were your favorite. You lived for those summers at the Cape, you loved the friends you made there, you loved the time spent at the beach, the peace felt there. Those summers were like no other part of the year.

So you were excited to be able to spend one last summer there before you had to enter the real world. One last hurrah of no worries.

Or at least, that’s your plan. You’re sure that your mom’s got other plans for your summer, but honestly, you’ve got a job lined up that’s set to start in September, once intern season is over, and you’ve got nothing planned besides sitting your ass on the beach with a book in one hand and a drink in the other until then.

Your parents had mentioned working on the house over the year, but the basics remained the same and the excitement for summer starts to bubble within you, as you make your way to your room, chatting with your mom as she points out some of the work they’d had done. Her next project- the downstairs bathroom- was ready to be started and she already wanted your opinions. “I brought cabinet and back splash samples to look at!”

“Deal.” You laugh, hanging off the door frame of your room, eager to get inside and throw your stuff down. “This weekend, for sure.”

Your room is familiar, unchanged in every way since you last left it, to the point that there’s still half a bikini out on the balcony that you must have forgotten to pack up last summer. You drop your suitcase on the floor and open the door to grab it, immediately distracted by the sea air, leaning against the railing.

“Yo!” A voice calls, and you look over to find its source, grinning when you do.

There’s a boy on the balcony facing you from the house next door-well not really a boy anymore; he’s got five years in the NHL under his belt now. But regardless, Matthew Tkachuk is grinning at you from the balcony next door, just like he used to every summer when you were growing up.

“Hey!” You call back, waving excitedly, and as if being here with your family and your summer friends wasn’t enough to make this the best summer, having Matthew here too? Well, your last hurrah was just getting better.

-----

It’s far later than you would have woken up if you were going to lacrosse practice at school, but still far earlier than you’d like to wake up in the summer, when you find yourself blinking at the wall, unable to fall back asleep and feeling restless, so you slip out of bed and start digging through your stuff for some running clothes.

If you’re not going to sleep in late, you may as well get a good run in.

The route you start is familiar, an old comfort, and it brings a grin to your face to see everything that’s still the same and all the things that have changed since your last time running this path a few years ago.

A few minutes in, you notice someone fall into step beside you and look over to find Matthew running beside you. “Hey.” You pull an AirPod out of one ear and he does the same, returning the greeting.

“God, why are you awake?” Matthew asks, and you can hear how tired he is.

“Used to waking up early.” Seriously, lacrosse workouts had started hours before this. “Why are you?”

He pulls a face. “Needed to get a workout in before we go grab the boat from the marina.”

“What, and Brady doesn’t?”

“Lazy fucker said he’d do it after.” Matthew grunts. “Not gonna happen.”

“Ohhh, calling out conditioning already! I love it.” If you thought your own family was competitive, the competitiveness of the Tkachuks, put you all to shame. It was fucking hilarious to watch, a highlight of every summer.

Matthew shrugs. “110% to everything, right?”

“I want a front row seat when you guys play corn hole this week.”

“Shotty Taryn.” Matthew grins.

“Poor Brady.” You lament. “Not even going to know what hits him.”

Matthew shrugs. “That’ll teach him to sleep in.”

You burst out laughing, then have to stop running because you think you’re going to die if you continue doing both. “Oh my god, you asshole.”

Matthew shrugs again, waiting for you to catch up with him a few steps ahead, but he’s laughing too, which just sets you off more, and honestly, you might need more than a minute to recover from this one. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him and you’d forgotten how much fun it was just hanging out with him.

-----

“There’s a party tonight,” Nora, who comes from one of those Kennedy-esque giant New England families and has been summer-ing three doors down from yours for as long as you can remember, says, not even bothering to lift her head up from the towel she’s sunning herself on. “That a couple of guys from my school are throwing.”

You shrug, dragging your attention away from the game of cornhole that Matthew and Brady are playing with a couple of your other friends, Ethan, and Jake. “I’d be down.”

“You just want to hook up with Alex Miller one last time.” Bri, Nora’s cousin and best friend- a wild friendship that you have never been able to fully understand, but one that you think could just watch the back and forth for hours-accuses her.

“So would you, if you knew the things he could do with his tongue.” Nora waggles her eyebrows.

“This was a bad time to come over.” Ethan cringes and you, Bri, and Nora all burst into laughter as you see the same look on Ethan, Jake, Matthew, and Brady’s faces, game of cornhole evidently complete.

“Party tonight.” Nora explains. “You in?” Ethan and Jake both immediately and excitedly agree so you turn to Matthew and Brady. “You guys coming?”

Brady shrugs super nonchalantly, but Matthew nods. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Nora grins. “Sweet. We’ll meet you outside tonight at 10.”

It’s already 10:15 when you and Bri make it down to their kitchen, finally dressed, already a little tipsy, and still waiting on Nora, but the boys have let themselves in and made themselves at home, drinks already in hand. “Uber will be here in five.” Jake says.

“Fuck.” Bri’s eyes widen and then she goes to shout off for her cousin as you laugh, suggesting a round of shots quickly before you go.

The best part about some of these old Cape Cod houses is all the land they have and how far they are from the main roads or, better yet, their closest neighbors, and when the Uber drops you off at the end of a driveway, it takes a minute before you realize the party is already in full swing. There’s music bumping, the bass is heavy, and there’s a bonfire crackling on the beach, which is absolutely where you’ll be headed just as soon as you find the keg and get yourself a drink.

“There’s your boy.” Bri elbows Nora, when the group of you are barely halfway up the driveway, and Nora holds a peace sign up to all of you as she dips off to the side.

“See you next week!” Ethan jokes to her, because she's known for disappearing for weeks at a time in the summer once she finds a boy, only showing her face at parties and the occasional beach day until she’s ready to find the next one.

Nora pauses long enough to turn and flip him off, grinning at all of you as you laugh, even Brady, who’s definitely least familiar with all of you, barely old enough to even sneak beers off to last time you were all in town together, but then she's off, and so are the rest of you, filling cups at the keg and moving through the party, saying hi to friends and familiar faces from summers’ past.

But the bonfire was your goal from the minute you entered this party and it’s where you find yourself almost immediately, squishing yourself into the smallest space, enough that it’s barely even a seat next to Mathew, practically half in his lap. “Hey!” He whines in protest, but it doesn’t sound serious at all, even as you shift yourself around and drape your legs over his.

“Thanks for sharing, Matty!” You beam but immediately want to take it back as he rests his cold cup against your leg.

“Payback.” He grins right back, but transfers the cup to his other hand, resting his free hand there instead, thumb just gently brushing back and forth over your skin, and quickly the two of you lose yourself into catching up with your friends again.

——-

“I’m dying.” You tell Matthew, when you meet him at the end of your driveway the next morning.

“I already puked in the bushes across the street.” He tells you. “Not sure how long this run is lasting.”

It lasts until you puke in the trees lining a stretch of road, which sets Matthew off as well, and then you both stop in a nearby convenience store to grab gatorades, before walking slowly to the beach and just...sit, slowly sipping.

“This is much more my speed today.” You tell Matthew, yanking your tank top off over your sports bra to use as a pillow and lying back on the sand.

“Yeah.” Matthew agrees after a minute, sounding a little spacey, so you turn to follow his voice, only to find that he’s done the same as you, and is lying back as well, showing off a lot of skin, and a lot more muscle than when you’d last seen him a few summers ago.

You feel a little ridiculous when you find your eyes lingering on the slope of Matthew’s shoulders and down to his pecs- after all, you’d spent all day at the beach together yesterday and hadn’t had this issue-but you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

“Gonna stay here a while.” You close your eyes, turning away from Matthew, soaking up the feeling of the sunshine, already feeling yourself drifting off into a nap.

“Power move.” Matthew agrees and the next thing you know, someone’s pressing a cold can into your stomach.

“Holy shit!” Your eyes pop open as Jake laughs above you. “You asshole.”

“Here.” Jake passes you the beer can and a koozy and even as you feel your stomach turn, you pop it open.

“I’m going to regret this.” You tell him.

“Summer, babe!” Jake shrugs. “Live it up.”

And well, that’s what you’re here for, right? That was your whole plan for this last hurrah, wasn’t it? So even as your stomach turns, you cheers your beer with your friends, moving closer to Matthew to make room for the rest of them to throw everything down, thoughts of his shoulders almost forgotten as plans for tonight start coming together.

Almost forgotten.

-----

Tuesday night is burger night at the country club and it’s been a weekly event for your family since you were a little kid. So after another long day at the beach (and a much needed post-beach day shower), you and your mom make your way to the club to find your dad already waiting for you at a table on the patio. He’s flipping through the menu, like he doesn’t order the same burger every week, and he’s already ordered drinks for all three of you- a whiskey for himself and a glass of wine each for you (rosé) and your mom (chardonnay).

“How was golf today?” You ask your dad, already grinning and ignoring the glare your mom sends your way. Magic Steve, as he was known by almost everyone, after a football season filled with comebacks leading to a Super Bowl win, had picked up golf the second he retired from football, too competitive to sit around and do nothing, but the magic didn’t carry over and he was terrible at it, no matter how many lessons he took. You lived for his stories about how each different course was out to get him in a different way. Would it be the ball’s fault he lost today or his putter?

“Awful.” Your dad says, launching into a story about the eighth hole- the bane of his existence- and the group in front of them, and the cart girl, and his caddy, each playing a role in why he lost today. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back and work the course this summer?”

“Sorry.” You tell him, sure that you sound anything but about why you don’t want to come back to being a cart girl. The money was great, but, “I’m a free agent this year.”

He laughs. “What’s your starting offer then?”

“Sunshine, sand, and beer.” You grin.

“Got all those things here.” He jokes and it takes a second before it lands.

“Ugh, lame.” You tell him, but you can’t even keep a straight face because he looks so proud of himself. “Just like your score today, apparently.”

“Cold-blooded.” Your dad says as your waiter approaches. “Taught you so well.”

“Steven.” Your mom rolls her eyes, exasperated.

Your dad winks at you and you hide a giggle as you order. The conversation turns to some of the decorating ideas for the downstairs bathroom and when your mom wants to really get started, before switching to your brother, some of the neighbors, and some hot town gossip.

“Before I forget!” Your mom says, as your dad is paying the bill. “Chantal wants to do dinner with everyone when Chase is here this weekend.”

“Can you clear time in your busy schedule of sitting around doing nothing?” Your dad deadpans.

“I’ll have you know that Matthew and Brady are right next to me sitting around and doing nothing, but I guess we can make time for Chase.” You sigh dramatically.

He shakes his head at you fondly, ruffling your hair as you try to stand up from the table. “Must be a nice life.”

“Very peaceful.” You tell him, finally standing. “Maybe one day when Chase is here I’ll join you on the course and kick your ass.”

“Remember you said that next time you come home at 2am drunk and I let you sleep in.” Your dad advises, as the three of you start walking out toward the cars, because you both know the potential for you to beat him is there. “Because I will.”

You giggle and blow him a kiss, even though you know you’ll pay for it later. “May the best golfer win!”

It’s once you’re home, barely an hour later, that the text comes in.

ice cream🍦?

There’s really nothing to even think about. You were two seconds from your pajamas and bed but as soon as Matthew texts you to ask, you can practically taste a Dresner’s cone in your mouth. Meet you out back. You send back and then slip on some sneakers and head back downstairs.

“Where are you going?” Your mom looks surprised. You had, only a few minutes ago, ducked out of watching a movie with her and your dad because you were too tired from your long day in the sun.

You’d taken a lot of shit for that one.

“Dresner’s with the Tkachuks.”

“Oh, she can stay up for ice cream.” You hear your dad call out sarcastically.

You grin. “Bye, love you!”

When you get out back though, the only Tkachuk out there is Matthew. “Ready?” He twirls the keys around his finger.

“Yup!” You follow him around the corner to their garage, sliding into the passenger seat. “Siblings busy?”

He nods, starting the car. “Taryn’s with her friends.”

“And Brady?” You prompt.

“Brady’s with Melissa.” He smirks.

“Brady!” You say, putting on the most scandalous tone you can manage. “Look at him, growing up!”

“Grown up Brady is just one more person to share beer with.” He points out.

You burst out laughing. “We’re all legal adults now that can buy alcohol whenever we want. Some of you all even have jobs. I don’t think sharing beers is a problem anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s a good life now.” Matthew laughs.

You nod in agreement, grinning and jumping out of the car practically before he puts it into park and ignoring his glare. “Yeah it is.”

It’s late enough at night now that the families with young kids have mostly cleared out of Dresner’s, but there are plenty of high schoolers hanging outside still, which only makes you feel old as fuck when you glare at a pack of them for getting too close on their bikes.

Matthew’s cracking up at the look on your face as they pass. He has to stop walking for a second, hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath.

“They almost ran me over!” You protest.

“Uh huh.” He says, failing to hide a smirk, as he presses his hand to your back to lead you to the counter. “Sure.”

Nothing about Dresner’s has changed since the two of you were kids, from the large blue and white planks the building is made from to the giant fading board listing all the flavors. In fact, the only thing that ever changed was the chalkboard in the center window listing the special monthly flavor- strawberry shortcake for May.

Matthew’s already eyeing it up, but you know exactly what you’re ordering. “Mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles, please!”

The teenager behind the counter raced off to make your cone, but next to you Matthew’s laughing. “Ever going to try something different?”

“Why should I when I’ve already found the best?” You laugh, accepting your ice cream from the teenager.

He laughs, shaking his head at you fondly, and placing his order- strawberry shortcake with hot fudge- before turning back to you. “How do you know it’s the best if you’ve never even tried any of the rest? You’ve been eating mint chocolate chip on a waffle cone since we were six!”

You smile sweetly at him. “From every bite of yours that I take.”

“Well maybe I just won’t give you one today.” He threatens and you laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” You snort, reaching for your wallet.

Matthew waves you off with his credit card, already passing it over the counter as he accepts his cup of ice cream. You thank him quickly and then reach for his spoon. “No!” He protests, lifting his ice cream out of reach as the two of you start walking away from the counter. “No way! Branch out with your choices! Stop being a thief!”

“Come on! One bite. Please?”

“No! Get your-” He starts, but you reach up to touch the skin on the underside of his arm, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt, already knowing his reaction. “Fuck! Your hands are cold!” His arms come down and you make your move, leaning in to lick at the ice cream in his cup, like you would your cone. He yanks the ice cream away, but it’s way too late, reaction far too delayed this time.

“Mmmm.” You grin. “But still not better than mint chocolate chip!”

But when you look over at Matthew, he’s got this weird look on his face, something you can’t really place. It takes a few seconds for him to even realize you’ve spoken and he blinks a few times before he responds. “You’re unbelievable.” He finally says but it sounds a little different than before, less like banter and more...serious? But maybe not in a bad way either...

You're not really sure what happened there or how to take that, so you just nudge him with your shoulder and keep walking next to him. “I know.”

-----

While on your run the next morning, Nora texts your group chat about a party that Alex Miller was throwing that night.

Oh you’re alive?? Bri texts, before confirming that she’ll be there.

Ethan and Jake are quick to pile on with jokes as well, and confirmations, asking about what time they should all arrive.

There’s a bunch of messages to catch up on when you and Matthew end the cool down to your run with a quick dip in the ocean before you sit on the beach between your houses for a few minutes to dry off.

“Party tonight?” You look over, eyes caught on a water droplet rolling down Matthew’s bicep as you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his, but thankfully, he’s not looking at you and didn’t catch you staring (this time, at least, because it’s definitely happening more often).

“You don’t sound very excited.”

Matthew sighs, rolling on his side a little to look at you. “Getting bored.” He says, in that way that usually means he’s about to come up with a terrible idea. “Need something new to do.”

It’s only years of summers spent with Matthew that tells you him being bored is bad for you all. He’s too used to moving constantly to sit still and relax like this all the time. “Want to take a boat out one day this week?” You suggest. “Do some water sports?”

His face lights up instantly and you know right away it was the right thing to say. “Tomorrow?”

“You think you’re going to be up for that tomorrow?’ You ask skeptically. “After tonight?”

He hesitates. “Alright, maybe Thursday.”

You burst into laughter and he smiles back at you. “Thursday.” You promise. “Chase’ll be here by then, too. I’m sure he’ll love to come out.”

Matthew looks like a whole new person as he stands up, holding his hand out to help you up. “Great!” He beams, practically lifting you off the sand without any effort from you, a feat that you are very much not thinking about. “Let’s get moving, one day closer to the boat.”

-----

“What’s up?” Matthew asks, as you slip into his side later that night.

Or maybe slip’s not the right word. “Stumble and crash” into his side might be a better description. It’s late now, after all, and you’ve been drinking pretty steadily all night.

“Nora’s trying to set me up with Alex’s friend.” You complain, leaning further into his side as you see said friend approaching you from over his shoulder. “So she’s not ‘alone here’ anymore.”

Matthew’s arm wraps around you tightly. “And you don’t want to hook up with Alex’s friend?”

“No!” You stress, grabbing his cheek and pulling his face in your direction. “Lemme make this clear. No.” You repeat.

Matthew’s laughing, but whether it’s from your vehemence or your drunkenness, you aren’t sure. “Well, he’s still coming over here.” He laughs again, but this time it’s definitely from the look of panic on your face. “Come on, we’ll go grab you a new drink.”

“Life saver.” You tell him, bumping your head against his shoulder and almost immediately reaching for his hand when you start walking to avoid getting lost in the crowd.

“Ugh.” He complains. “That’s the worst candy.” And that’s how you know he might not be as drunk as you but he’s definitely had at least a few. “Can’t I be, like, a Reese’s?”

“Nope.” You’re fighting back a grin, knowing exactly what your next words are going to do to him. “Butterscotch lifesaver.” He fake-gags and you giggle, the reaction exactly what you’d hoped for.

“Even worse!” He shakes his head. “I’m the candy you ignore at your Grandma’s house.”

“We can’t all be Werther’s caramels and Andes mints.” You reason with him.

He turns toward you, full cup of beer in hand, and you reach out for it, but he flicks your nose gently. “You can get your own beer.” He says, grinning. “Butterscotch lifesaver, my ass.”

“Hey!” You’re unable to stop the laughter, even as you look at him in protest. “At least I didn’t call you a strawberry bon bon.”

Matthew acknowledges that with a head tilt and by passing you the beer, before reaching for a new one for himself. “Brady.” You both say at the same time, and then exchange a secret grin.

“It’s the cheeks.” You point at your own. “Always just a li’l cute and red.”

Matthew laughs. “Oh, I’m telling him you said that.”

You’re back to leaning close to him, hand in his as the two of you try and navigate the crowd again. “Don’t you dare.”

“Strawberry bon bon!” He calls loudly, as you laugh and do your best to shove at him with your shoulder. “Where you at?”

“You’re an asshole.” You laugh.

He only grins at that, because he can definitely hear the fondness in your voice. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one, babe.”

“Not the last time either.” You chirp back.

“Nah.” He laughs. “Probably not.”

Matthew’s lost his good spot by the bonfire by the time you two return so you keep walking and talking, mostly about your brother now and the new girl he’s supposedly bringing with him when he comes into town tomorrow. It’s a nice night tonight, the heat’s kind of broken after a thunderstorm earlier in the afternoon, and as the breeze picks up you find yourself leaning further into him and ducking into corners that might block the wind while ignoring the laughter in Matthew’s eyes once he finally starts to notice what’s you’re doing.

It’s in one of these corners that you notice Alex’s friend again, watching you, and you immediately pull Matthew away to a different spot, only to see that same guy again only a few minutes later.

“What’s wrong?”Matthew interrupts his own story when it’s clear to him that you’re not paying any attention to him.

“That stupid friend of Alex is following us!”

He turns to glare, you can already see it forming on his face, but you’ve got a better idea. Maybe it’s the booze that makes you think it’s a great idea, or maybe it’s the late hour, but you reach for his turning face and pull him in for a kiss.

Right away, Matthew responds, pulling you closer, and it’s like this entire summer of the two of you just needing to be right there, right next to each other, this magnetic pull yanking you closer, it all comes together.

It could be minutes, it could be hours when you finally separate. You’re breathing heavily and Matthew is too. “Is-“ You clear your throat. “Is he gone?”

“Who cares?” Matthew asks, and then he pulls you in to kiss you again.

-----

In the morning you wake up still a little dizzy, but whether it’s from the alcohol or the rush of the memory of hooking up with Matthew, you can’t really tell.

You meet him between your houses for a run just like any other morning anyway.

“Wasn’t really sure about this run today.” You tell Matthew, as you see him waiting for you at the bottom of the driveway.

He cracks up. “What, do I make you that sick now?”

“Not just you.” You say, stomach a little queasy as you start to run.

He must see it on your face because he starts to laugh. “I’ll buy you a gatorade if you can make it to the gas station.”

“I might not.” You tell him. “Buy me one anyway please.”

He does. Your favorite flavor even. And then he sips on his own with you slowly as you walk back toward the beach.

“When’s Chase getting in today?”

You shrug. Chase runs on his own time. “Dinner, maybe?”

“Have you met the new girlfriend yet?”

You shake your head. “She sounds nice though. More than I can say about the last one.”

Matthew looks over, interested. “What happened with the last one?”

You burst into laughter. Oh man, that’s a story.

It’s easy to launch into the drama of Chase and Danielle as the two of you sit there on the beach with your Gatorade’s, sun just on the right side of beating down on you, not quite hot enough yet to be too much.

Matthew’s laughing by the end of it; it’s hard not to. “I don’t know if I am hoping for less drama.” He says and you glare at him. “It’d be nice to get some entertainment in.”

“I’ll find some other way to entertain you, I promise.” You say dryly.

“Oh now there’s a deal I can get behind.” He grins, eyes sparkling mischievously and you wonder what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

-----

Chase pulls his car into the driveway as your dad is pouring drinks for happy hour and you abandon your drink on the table in favor of throwing yourself at your brother.

He makes like he’s not going to catch you but at the last minute, he lifts you up and squeezes you tightly. “Ah, missed you, squirt.” You stick your tongue out at him-at that detested nickname mostly-and he laughs. “This is Hayley.”

“Hi!” She beams. “It’s so great to meet you; I’ve heard so much about you!”

You side-eye your brother. “It’s all lies.”

She laughs right away. “Yeah, I’ve got one of those too.”

Immediately you smile, linking arms with her as you pull her into the house, leaving your brother to get their bags. “I’m so excited to meet you!”

“Any help?” Chase calls to you.

You both ignore him.

——-

Outside.

You know what that means, and you go out to the balcony to see Matthew waiting below.

“Well?” He calls up to you. “How’d it go?”

“I love her.” You tell him, already reaching for the trellis against the siding to climb down to him, waiting in the garden. “She’s amazing. If he doesn’t marry her, I’m going to riot.”

He laughs, arms still up to steady you in your descent; it doesn’t happen often, but a fall or two has been known to occur. “You’ve met her once.”

“Don’t care.” You tell him stubbornly. “She’s a keeper. Where are we going?”

He shrugs. “Wherever you want to go. I just wanted the gossip.”

“You’ll see her tomorrow, they’re both coming on the boat with us.” You start walking toward the beach.

His entire face lights up. “Boat day!”

“What, did you forget already?” You tease.

“Just excited.” Matthew says and you can feel his excitement, he’s practically vibrating with it.

“What am I going to do with you?” You ask, shaking your head.

He laughs. “Listen, somebody’s gotta keep me entertained, shouldn’t have volunteered for the job when we were six if you didn’t want to be stuck with it when we’re 24.”

“You’re right, didn’t think that one through.” You say dramatically, dramatic enough for him to gently shove your shoulders toward the water. The waves crash on your shoes, but at least he doesn’t send you into the water. “Hey!”

“Oh sorry,” Matthew says mildly, which should have been a big hint. “My mistake.”

“Yeah, it-“ Next thing you know, he’s lifting you up and walking straight into the ocean. “You asshole!” You cry, the sentiment lost entirely over your laughter as you attempt to clutch at his shoulders, knowing he’s going to drop you as soon as he’s deep enough.

He ducks under a wave instead, your arms still wrapped around his neck and you emerge sputtering and laughing.

“You asshole!” You repeat, but he’s grinning back at you and you know you’re going to kiss him back before he’s even kissed you.

-----

Chase was more than happy when you’d mentioned that Matthew wanted to bring the boat out on his first full day in town. It was Hayley that had looked a little doubtful when it came up, mentioning she hadn’t been out on a boat before, let alone done any of the water sports you were talking about.

She’d been game to come out with you all though, just told you and your brother not to expect any promises about any water sports.

“You’re going to love the boat.” Chase had said at dinner, when you were talking about it. “Promise.”

He was right. It hadn’t taken long for her to relax in one of the seats and even less time from that for Brady and Taryn to get her out tubing.

It was Matthew’s turn driving and he’d motioned a moment ago for a new beer, which you’d pretended to ignore for a solid minute until he’d called you out on it.

“Finally!” He teases, as you pass him a can in a koozy. “What’s the driver got to do to get a beer up here?”

“Not get sand in every crevice imaginable.” You deadpan and he laughs. “Next time, let's at least put a towel down.”

“Oh so there’s going to be a next time?” Matthew grins and you pause. The words had just come out of your mouth, but neither of you had ever said anything about what you’ve done up until now or what you might be going forward.

“Play your cards right and there might be.” You say finally, settling down on the seat near him.

He winks.

-----

“Hello?” Your mom calls out to announce your family’s arrival, as you all follow her into the Tkachuk’s back patio. “We’re here!”

Chantal immediately leaves Keith alone at the grill and the relief on his face is clear. Matthew is standing right next to him, laughing as he passes back over a beer, but once his mom calls him and his siblings over to say hello, he dutifully follows her tracks.

He pulls you in for a hug as he’s making his rounds and if it feels like he holds you longer than anyone else, that’s definitely your imagination, right?

It must be. He moves right on to Chase and Hayley after that and you’re left with Brady. “Where’s Melissa?” You ask innocently.

“Sh!” He hushes you immediately, looking over to his mom quickly as you laugh, patting his arm.

“Sure, babe.” You tease. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“What secret?” Matthew appears at your side.

“Mom’s birthday present.” Brady lies smoothly, before going off to get himself a drink from the cooler.

Matthew looks over at you as soon as he leaves. “Melissa.” You whisper to him conspiratorially.

“Ah.” He nods, fighting back a smile.

“I did notice she didn’t come out on the boat yesterday.” You admit, but you hadn’t really thought to ask about it. “I just didn’t realize he was keeping it down low.”

He shrugs, leading you over to the beer cooler. “I give it two weeks before he brings her home. I know he likes her and my mom’s suspicious.”

You laugh, accepting the beer he hands you. “Classic Chantal.”

“She’s been in her element this summer.” He agrees.

“She just likes having the whole family around.” You say. Your mom’s been excited about your brother being here since he told her what dates he could come back.

“Speaking of the whole family,” Matthew says. “Did you get roped into golf tomorrow?”

You nod. “Poor Hayley. Doesn’t know what she got herself into when she said she liked to golf.”

“What happens first?” He proposes. “Big Walt claims the whole thing is rigged or Magic Steve whiffs on a shot.”

“If Magic Steve makes it to the eighth hole without whiffing on a shot, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.” You say. “Two hundred bucks. Anything you want. It’s not going to happen.”

Matthew grins and his eyes light up mischievously. “Anything I want, eh? Alright deal.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

——-

Stomach full, plate empty, and a little drowsy, you find yourself leaning into Matthew on the couch you’re sharing with him and Taryn.

Around you the rest of your families are in similar states and no one seems like they’re in a rush to clean up. The discussion is light but loud, a staple for your families, always having to shout over one another to be heard anytime you all get together, which is probably how your mom and Chantal get away with whispering to each other for so long.

“What are you two up to over there?” Keith asks, finally catching onto them.

“Yeah, that’s never anything good.” Your dad tacks on teasingly.

“Nothing.” Your mom says, but it’s entirely unconvincing and everyone immediately latches onto it.

“It was!” Chantal insists finally. “We were just talking about those two.” She gestures over to you and Matthew.

“Us?” You repeat.

Your mom nods. “You two and the big summer Cape wedding we’d always dreamed about.”

“Hah!” Brady’s laughing, like the idea of you and Matthew getting married is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard, before your mom is even finished speaking.

“Those two?” Chase is right there with him.

“Well we know better now!” Chantal says. “I could only be so lucky for Matthew to bring home a girl this nice!”

“Hey!” Matthew protests next to you, but you’re laughing right along with everyone else.

“When one says hello to me, I’ll take it back.” She counters.

He hesitates. “Alright, that’s fair.”

She laughs. “Damn right.”

“Were you really planning our wedding?” You ask them.

“We planned it when you were ten.” Your mom informs you and everyone laughs. “The bridesmaids wore sage, but it has become abundantly clear that wedding will never happen.”

“I mean, we were ten.” You say. “So that wedding was probably never going to happen anyway.”

“Listen, mothers can dream.” Your mom replies.

“And that was a good one.” Chantal adds.

“Don’t worry.” Your dad says reassuringly to Matthew. “I’m sure whatever girl finally says hello to her will be just as good. The bar is pretty low.”

It’s a joke, a pretty good one even, that everyone laughs at, but you and Matthew exchange a brief look, joining in a beat late.

-----

Matthew’s waiting outside your window when you start climbing down the trellis, ready to steady your descent if needed, just like you knew he would be.

When you overestimate the last step, he grabs you, hands remaining on your hips even after he steadies you.

“Interesting dinner tonight.” You say carefully. Your moms’ words have been drifting in and out of your thoughts since they came up.

Matthew hums as his fingers slide up your side. “Yeah?”

You fight back a gasp as one of his thumbs brushes the underside of your breast. “You don’t think so?”

He smirks and you know you were unsuccessful in holding back your gasp, at least completely. “Oh I thought so.”

“Jerk.” You lean forward to kiss him, but he’s already right there, and for a while, you lose yourself in Matthew. His mouth. The heat of the summer night and how easy it is to just fall into this each time.

When you both pull away, breathing heavy but smiling, neither one of you actually moves away. “Tomorrow?” Matthew asks, thumb still brushing the skin at your hip.

“Again?” You ask, kind of surprised, as you look meaningfully between the two of you.

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Because our moms just married us off at dinner a few hours ago?” You deadpan.

He laughs. “Well we haven’t said anything to them yet. Why change what’s worked?”

You pull a face at him- why would you have said anything to them yet?- and he laughs. He’s not wrong though. What has to change about what you’ve been doing? Because your moms made a joke?

You stick your pinky out to him, like when you were kids, a promise to keep secrets from your parents or siblings that would always end up getting you two in trouble. “Easy breezy.” You say.

Matthew loops his pinky around yours. “Easy breezy.” He agrees, and it feels like every promise you ever made with each other.

-----

Nora appears on the beach with the rest of you, sometime around noon, with a fresh cooler of drinks and some snacks, and takes her roast accordingly.

“You’re alive!” Bri cries dramatically, stealing a fresh White Claw. “Ohh, mango!”

“Ew.” Ethan shakes his head at her, shifting his chair over to make room for Nora. “Mango? C’mon, Nor, you find a boy for a week and you forget the good flavors?”

“Don’t you fucking dare give me shit right now when the next words out of your mouth are about to be lime.” Nora says and you pull your eyes away from watching Matthew playing Kan Jam long enough to laugh.

“Should we set the over under now?” You tease. “Or later, once their game is done?”

“What over under?” Nora asks.

“Wait until the game’s done.” Bri says. “Gimme some time to think.”

“I think that’s cheating.” Ethan counters.

“If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.” Bri grins, leaning back into her chair more.

“What over under?” Nora demands.

“How long you’ll be gracing us with your presence.” Bri finally tells her and it’s worth it for the look on Nora’s face.

-----

“Beerdie tonight?” Matthew asks on your run the following morning.

“Shotty Taryn.” You grin at the look of outrage on his face and then sprint off ahead so he can’t catch up.

He does though, but by that point, you’re both far enough away from your parents’ houses that when he does, he captures you by the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

“Mmm, not getting a workout in like this.” You tease, when you break the kiss.

He waggles his eyebrows. “I can think of another way we can get a workout in.”

You bust out laughing. It’s just such a lame line, you can’t help yourself. “Oh yeah? Where at?”

Turns out that trellis outside your room can hold Matthew just as well as you.

“Beach today?” You ask him afterwards. He’s still lounging in your bed as you move around your room, looking for the bottom to your bathing suit.

He pulls a face. “I guess.”

You laugh. “Boat tomorrow?”

That lights him up and serves to get him moving, just as you find your bottom and slip into it. “And just as I was enjoying the view.” He jokes, slipping past you with a playful pat on the ass and a kiss.

“Tragic.” You tell him, sarcasm clear. “What are you-” You stop yourself as you hear your mom’s voice getting louder and you watch Matthew’s eyes widen, sure that your face must be mirroring his.

Neither of you moves as her footsteps grow louder, her voice carrying her side of the conversation through the hall.

And then, the sound of the door shutting, and muffled silence. She must be getting ready for the day.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, watching Matthew do the same. “I’ll see you soon.” You tell him, walking the few feet with him over to the trellis.

He grins; it’s somehow just as carefree as it was a few moments ago. “Looking forward to it. Bring beer.”

“Ugh it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

He grins, poised to climb down the trellis. “Yup.”

“Fuck.” You scrunch your face up. One more thing to remember. “You going to be okay to climb down that?”

But he’s already at the bottom, looking up at you with a mischievous grin, and for the first time this summer, you realize you may be in trouble.

-----

“No.” Jake shakes his head, when Nora suggests heading to a party of one of her friends on the other side of the Cape. “No. Too far.”

She huffs at him. “Well then what do you want to do?”

“Can we just go to the bar?” He asks, almost pleadingly. “For God’s sake, we spent years dying to get into one and now that we all can, we haven’t been once.”

“Thank you!” Matthew cries. “I thought nobody was going to say it.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” You ask him.

“I-” He trails off and you grin at him, laughing when he just flips you off.

“Alright then.” Jake nods, like everything’s settled. “9pm, to the bars.”

“9?” Nora cries in disbelief, but she’s ready by 9:10, which is basically a record for her.

Jake has laid out a whole plan for the night, a crawl through the town bars, but once you make it into the first one, you’re pretty sure that none of you are making it to his second stop.

Bri drags you and Nora out on the dance floor the second you get drinks and you lose yourself there for a while, or at least until your drink is empty. You ditch the girls for a refill, shimmeying your way through the crowd up to Ethan, Brady, and Melissa at the bar to place your order.

“Where’s your brother?” You ask and Brady rolls his eyes.

“Over there.” He points. “Being his usual…” But you don’t hear the rest of his sentence, too focused on the girls Matthew and Jake are talking with. Or more specifically, the girl Matthew’s talking with, the one who’s looking up at him while she twirls her hair and laughs at whatever he just said.

Matthew’s allowed to do whatever he wants. You just talked about this. And, maybe more importantly, if you want to keep this thing between the two of you quiet, he should go off and do whatever he wants.

And you should too.

But judging by the sinking feeling in your stomach, the only thing you want is on the other side of the bar, talking with a pretty blonde.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you rush back to Bri and Nora, eager to try and forget what’s happening behind you. But you just don’t have it in you when a few guys approach the three of you and after one song, you find yourself back at the bar with Ethan, Brady, and Melissa for another round, unsure if you’re happy or not when you realize you can no longer see Matthew from where you’re standing.

“Gonna head home.” Ethan says, after he finishes his drink.

“Oh, I’ll come!” You down the last bit of your own.

He gives you a look. “You sure?”

“Mhm.” You nod, hugging Brady and Melissa goodbye. “Exhausted. Ready for bed.”

Ethan laughs as he holds the door open for you. “A college graduate and suddenly you’re an old lady. Ready for bed by 11?”

“Grandma status.” You laugh along with him, keeping the joke running as you wait for your Uber, so he won’t press any further, and it’s only much later that you realize how strange it is for him to be leaving so early.

-----

“Where’d you go last night?” Matthew asks, when you meet for your morning run. “I looked for you when I was leaving, Brady said you’d already left.”

You try to hide your surprise. You’d really just assumed he’d gone home-or at least gone somewhere- with that girl last night. “I left with E.” You’ve never seen his head move as fast as it turns toward you at that. “Whiplash much?” You laugh. “He was leaving so I left too. I was tired.”

Matthew shakes his head. “Yeah, uh-” He shakes it again. In past years, that would have sent his curls flying in all different directions; this year, his hair’s too short for anything like that. It’s a good look for him. “Yeah, no, I just didn’t see you leave.”

You purse your lips, fighting back a frown. “Guess you just weren’t looking.” You shrug.

“Doubt it.” He mutters, or at least you think that’s what he says, because he changes the subject before you can ask.

-----

A few days later, a round of storms roll in, and by lunchtime your mom is shooing you out of the house. “But it’s raining.” You whine at her. “What can I even do?”

“Are you 22 years old or not?” She frowns, guiding you away from the tile and cabinet samples. “How did you entertain yourself at school?”

“I literally didn’t, I was never alone!”

“Well you don’t have to be now either!” She smiles at you. “You go next door; send Chantal over here for some peace and quiet.”

Chantal is more than happy to trade places with you when you arrive, stopping only long enough to grab a bottle of wine for her and your mom to split, and you laugh as you close the door behind her, before looking for Matthew.

He’s not hard to find, the sound of him and his siblings quickly coming up from the basement as you start walking in the house.

“Fuck yeah!” Matthew grins when he sees you. Brady and Taryn are, as usual, ganging up against him in bubble hockey. “Let’s go, right here, come on.”

In classic older brother fashion, Matthew resets the score to zero once you get settled in your spot and he assigns you your handles, completely ignoring his siblings’ protests about how they were winning (and handily). And then, with an extra set of hands, he (and you) begin to dominate.

In public, both Matthew and Brady are gracious winners and losers. There’s light trash talk and playful teasing before their games and hugs and catching up afterwards.

But in private? They go cutthroat.

So it quickly devolves into Matthew against Brady while you and Taryn watch and giggle from the side, occasionally calling out comments of your own and then laughing again at the snide looks they send you in return.

It’s not long before Matthew’s celebrating his victory-loudly and uninhibited- and Brady’s rolling his eyes, and wandering off upstairs.

“God, you’re annoying.” Taryn says.

Matthew ruffles her hair and she scrunches her nose at him. “Part of my charm.”

“Mm.” She hums. “You tell yourself that.” And then she’s heading upstairs as well, leaving just you and Matthew behind.

“Well at least one of you thinks I’m charming.” Matthew grins at you.

“Oh.” You pull a face at him. “I don’t remember ever saying that.”

Matthew’s tackling you onto the couch practically before you finish speaking, kissing the laughter right out of you. It’s easy to get lost the same way you have been the last few weeks, when he’s pressing you into the couch, lips moving over yours, warm palm spread over bare skin.

It’s only when you feel like the entire world is spinning and you’re dizzy enough to pass out from it that you pull away. Everything settles a little, but still you feel caught in Matthew’s orbit, a feeling that you’ve noticed happening more and more often. Matthew’s thumb brushes against your ribcage, breathing heavily, and it’s only when he moves back in to kiss you again that you notice it’s both of you, barely able to catch your breath but still ducking in for more.

“Matth-” You try to breathe. It doesn’t do much good as Matthew just moves to kissing down your jaw. “Your siblings.”

“They won’t come down again.” He says, almost absentmindedly, clearly more focused on other things.

“They-” You start to say, but he shuts you up pretty quickly and luckily, he ends up not being wrong.

-----

“That’s what you wear?” Matthew mutters to you, almost too low. You have to strain to hear him over the wind, from where the two of you are sitting in the front of the boat, shoved there by your mom when Chase and Hayley had showed up unexpectedly a day early for Fourth of July week, a week traditionally filled with outings on the boat, barbecues, and family competition.

You look down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

He stares at you in disbelief. “We’re out here on a family boat day. And that’s what you show up in? Are you trying to kill me?”

You laugh. “Depends on what you left me in your will.”

He chuckles. “What I leave you in the will? You’ve been getting me into trouble since we were six years old and you think I’m leaving you anything in my will?”

You bust out laughing. “I’ve been getting you into trouble since we were six? Reverse that there, buddy.”

But Matthew’s shaking his head the entire time, fondly smiling like you’re missing the point entirely.

-----

Selection night for the Beach Olympics takes place on a Sunday, as it always does, but this time it’s about ten times rowdier than it ever has been, with almost all of the kids being legal to drink and Taryn hiding the seltzer that Brady snuck her in a Sprite can

Keith holds his hat up high, filled with paper slips with numbers written on them. “Who’d like to go first?”

“I think as last winners, it’s our right!” Chase says and then gestures Chantal forward to pick before him.

The look on their faces as they draw their numbers, pleading to get the same again, and then revealing different ones is hilarious, but you barely have time to laugh at their reactions (Chantal’s face falling and Chase letting out a loud “Fuck!”) before it’s your turn.

Your “5” doesn’t match either your brother’s “2” or Chantal’s “3” so you watch as the hat makes its way around pairing everyone up, until finally Matthew makes his choice and when his face lights up just before he meets your eyes, you don’t even need him to show your families the little slip he’s pulled to know that he’s got your matching “5.”

“Unfair!” Brady cries, even as he already sits next to his mom, his Beach Olympic partner for the next week, and she shoves him off the stool he’s sitting on. “What?” He looks at her. “C’mon!”

“Talk to me when you’re a Beach Olympic champion.” She says, purposefully adopting a haughty tone and you all laugh, as Taryn begins prepping the tiny toy flags.

Matthew moves next to you, nudging your side and grinning throughout the draft of countries. It’s hard to stifle your giggles, both of you laughing the entire time, the last team to draft, and watching as Taryn and your mom select Spain (because of the wine your mom was drinking currently), allowing Chase and your dad to snatch America up. Brady and Chantal select Canada, to no one’s surprise, and then Keith and Hayley pick Italy.

“We’ll be eating pasta only for the rest of the week.” He jokes, reaching for their toy flag, and she laughs but also looks like she’s not sure if he’s kidding or not.

“What do you think?” Matthew whispers to you, nudging your side again. “Mexico? Iceland?”

“The bad guys from Mighty Ducks 2? I don’t think so.” You quote a favorite show of the two of you and he grins immediately.

“Germany.” The two of you say simultaneously. “They’ve never been the bad guys in anything!”

Matthew holds the tiny toy flag about his head as he makes the short walk back over to you and the rest of your families’ groan, but you only laugh, sure that sound is going to become familiar over the next few days.

-----

“C’mon, baby.” Matthew coaches, crouched in a ready position near the Kan Jam bin and it’s just one more day of easy affection, one more pet name falling out of his mouth that you can’t even react to. “Right here, give her to me, nice and easy.”

“You got nothing.” Your dad scoffs. “Weak flex.”

You grin at him, winding up to throw the frisbee; if it hits the can at all before Matt touches it, you and Matthew will lose points and that just won’t do.

You release the frisbee, watching it arc and following Matthew’s eyes. He lunges once it gets close, throwing himself onto the sand to smack the frisbee into the can.

You cheer, loudly, as he hits it against the side and then the frisbee lands on the sand.

Matthew’s whooping, just as loud, and running to meet you in the middle with his arms open, ready to catch you as you leap into his arms. He catches you when you jump up, spinning around a few times, and still cheering.

“Ugh.” Your brother shakes his head. “This is just annoying now.”

“How are you this in sync?” Brady agrees.

You shrug as Matthew puts you back on the ground, but you don’t wander far from him. You haven’t all week, your partnership for the week a convenient excuse to have to be close to him…not that you really want to be apart from him.

And all the time you’ve been spending together this summer has definitely been beneficial for your chemistry. Brady wasn’t wrong. You and Matthew had always been a pretty good team, your years of friendship translating well into team games, but now? This week you seemed unstoppable, midway through the week and already collecting a first or second place medal in every event so far.

Puting you well in first place for the week, with each game the two of you only looking better and better. It was quickly driving your families’ nuts.

“Just the dream team, baby.” Matthew grins, finally answering his brother, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you when he says it, so it’s hard not to think that he’s talking to you and even harder to avoid the flutter in your stomach when he says baby.

No one else is looking at you this time, at least. They can’t see if you blush.

-----

For the fourth time this week, you say goodnight to your parents, go upstairs, and immediately climb down the trellis to the garden to meet Matthew.

“This feels ridiculous.” You complain to him, even as you feel the rush of seeing him, the thrill of this thing between only you. “I feel like we’re sixteen again and sneaking off to go drink at a party we’re not supposed to be at.”

“Doesn’t the secret make it kind of fun?” He asks, but only after he kisses you, which is definitely unfair. You had a point to make, but it’s gone entirely.

What’s that saying about secrets? Secrets are no fun...you can’t remember the rest anyway. “Easy breezy.” Instead, you echo your last promise, because that you can remember, made from this same spot, and Matthew links your pinky’s together at your sides as he moves in for another kiss.

-----

Closing ceremonies for the Beach Olympics takes place out on the boat, as usual, and you stand smugly between Brady and your dad, with a bottle of champagne and a smirk on your face.

“Show off.” Your dad says, shaking his head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s unbecoming to brag like that?”

“Like this?” You bite one of the-many-fake medals hanging around your neck, far more than anyone else on the boat...except Matthew, that is.

Brady groans. “Fuck off.” He whines, definitely still bitter about his loss at bocce.

But whatever he and your dad say next is lost to you, because Matthew’s caught your eye. He’d seen you joking with your dad, apparently, because he’s grinning when he catches your eye and then lifts one of his medals up to mimic what you’ve just done.

It’s hard not to laugh, feeling such fondness for him deep in your chest that it hurts almost, even as your dad and his brother look at you like you’re crazy, because he’s back to talking with his mom and looking completely normal by the time they turn around.

“What?” Brady presses again.

“It’s.-” You shake your head, because this feeling is so familiar but you just can’t place it. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just another thing between you and Matthew.

-----

“You got sand in my hair.” You groan, fixing your shirt as you sit up, reaching for one of the bottles of champagne you’d been sipping on since the celebration with your families earlier in the evening.

“Sorry.” Matthew says dryly. “Did you want to be on top next time?” You pull a face and he laughs, like he already knew the answer to that. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Not on the beach.” You shove his shoulder. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I can track you down a bed.” He says thoughtfully.

“Fuck off.” You pull the champagne away from him, laughing. “Ass.”

He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Oh, that’s on the table?”

“Oh my god!” You groan, but you’re still laughing. “I hate you so much.”

“Nah.” Matthew says confidently, and you can’t look away from him as he says, “You love me.”

You love me. It rings in your head as he steals the champagne bottle from you, and again as he helps you stand up, brushing the sand from your legs. It’s still echoing as the two of you walk back towards your houses, as Matthew sneaks into the garden with you, and helps you begin your climb up the trellis.

It’s stuck in your head the entire climb up, it’s there as you turn back to face him, it’s there as you watch him smile back up at you now that he’s sure you made it to the top, and it’s there as you wave goodnight to each other and he starts walking back home.

“I’m fucking in love with you.” You realize out loud and Matthew turns, grinning up at you.

“What was that?” He calls back.

“Nothing.” You call back helplessly. “Nothing at all.” You repeat to yourself, turning away from him to go into your room before he sees the look on your face.

-----

Almost immediately following that realization, Matthew announces to you on your run he’ll be going to Toronto soon for a few days for a camp.

“Oh.” You say, kind of relieved. A few days to collect your thoughts and feelings actually sounds...nice. “When do you leave?”

“Not until Thursday.” He frowns. “And Big Walt and Chantal are even away at a wedding this weekend. Damn it, we could have had a bed.”

“Anal’s still not on the table.” You deadpan and he laughs so hard he has to stop running.

“Anything you want.” He promises, when he can finally stand up fully again and start running. “We’ve been good; nothing needs to change.”

It’s not until later that night, when you’re at the bar with all your friends, and Ethan and you are hanging at one end of the bar while Matthew and Jake are again out around the floor making the rounds, that you realize why that statement irked you.

You want something to change.

-----

“Are you okay?” Bri gives you a look

It’s been a few days since realizing this casual, friends with benefits, “easy breezy” thing with Matthew wasn’t enough. And despite that, you’d done nothing different. You’d woken up each morning the same as every other one this summer to meet him for a run, ducking off the side of the path for kisses and then slipping away as he chases after you. Afternoons on the beach, sneaking glances through your sunglasses, pretending you don’t see him looking back at you, hoping your friends think the flush of your cheeks is from the sun and not recognizing it for the blush that it actually is. Pretending you were meeting friends at night when you were meeting Matthew instead, sneaking back in through the gate, like you were 16 again and trying not to wake your dad as you crept back in the house drunk off whatever cheap beer you could get your hands on (entirely different from how you stumble back home now, still drunk off whatever attention Matthew will give you, head still woozy with every kiss he pressed to your lips and the words he muttered to you between them).

“No, seriously.” She continues. “Are you okay?”

“Yup.” You giggle, reaching for your drink again. “Why?”

“I just haven’t seen you drink like this, I don’t know, maybe all summer?” She says.

Your jaw drops, outraged. “That’s not fair!” You cry. “I’ve had plenty to drink this summer! So many hangovers!”

“That...that’s not what I said at all.” She rubs her temples. “You just haven’t been drinking at this pace all summer.”

“I’m fine.” You tell her and she gives you a look as she pushes a cup of water toward you. “See?” You drain the entire cup and stick your tongue at her. “Fine.”

She laughs fondly, picking up her own drink. “If you say so, babe. Back to dancing?”

“Good 4 u!” You cry in excitement, leading her away from the bar, throwing your joined hands up in the air as you do.

“No, they’ve already played-” Bri shakes her head. “Nope, not worth it.”

Nora’s right where the two of you left her on the dance floor- with her boy of the week, who’s name you could not remember if your life depended on it. You last another song or two, begging Bri to let you go up and request your newest favorite song and being denied each time, before you get bored again, and wander off in search of your other friends.

“Whastsa matter with you?” You frown, poking at Ethan’s sour face.

Brady pulls his head away from whispering to Melissa just long enough to say, “He’s just been sitting here being a grinch all night.”

You swipe the untouched drink in front of Ethan away from him for yourself, giggling as he doesn’t even attempt to stop you. “Christmas in July isn’t until next week, silly!”

That gets Ethan to crack a smile, finally, as he laughs at you. “What?” He grins again, before his face falls back into a frown.

You frown, turning unsubtly to follow his eyes but you can’t see anything worth frowning about. You wave when you see Nora and she laughs, waving back, and only when you wave back even more ridiculously do you turn back to the table.

“Cheer up buddy.” Brady’s saying when you do, even as Melissa rolls her eyes. “They’ll be back soon. Those girls aren’t going home with them.”

Your breath catches in your throat, as you whip back around, missing Ethan’s response entirely. But sure thing, there’s enough of a cut in the crowd to see now, there’s Jake and Matthew with those girls. The same ones they’ve been chatting up every time you’ve been to this bar all summer. Right away, your thoughts are racing about what Jake and Matthew could have been doing with these girls all night long, while you were sure to keep your distance from him.

Well, specifically, what Matthew has been doing with the girl while you were staying away from him so no one could see the feelings written all over your face. The one you see laughing at all his jokes when the four of them are talking together, with ridiculous eyelashes that she bats up at him, and an equally crazy body that absolutely no one should be able to attain.

“Hey.” Melissa says quietly, studying your face, and it feels like she’s been doing that to all of you all summer, watching you to get a better sense of who you all are and where she fits. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Just time for another drink, I think. I’ll be back.”

You’re off to the bar before she can even follow, before one of the boys notices you’re missing, and it’s only when you’re crowded in between a dozen strangers trying to get the attention of the bartender do you feel like you can breathe again.

-----

“It’s time to go!” Bri tugs on your arm gently. “Come on, babe!”

“No.” You whine, dragging out the word. “I’m-” You hiccup. “-having fun.”

She looks at you in disbelief. “Flagged. Let’s go.”

“No!” You whine again. “All my friends are here.”

“All your friends are leaving.” Ethan says gently. “We’re right here.”

“They’re not!” You look over your shoulder wildly for Matthew, eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. “They’re not leaving!”

“We are!” Bri sighs. “Even Nora’s leaving. See,” She turns your head. “She’s waving!”

“But-“ You wave back slowly. “That’s-“

“Everybody’s leaving.” Bri continues. “Or they’re already gone.” You feel numb as she takes your hand to pull you out of the bar, toward the Uber that Ethan has called. Their mindless chatter rolls over you as Bri’s words echo in your head and you leap to a place you don’t want to be in. That everyone else was already gone. That Matthew was already gone and that he left without saying goodbye.

The tears are rolling down your face before you even know what’s happening and suddenly you can’t stop. You’re hiccuping in the back of the Uber, crying huge crocodile tears that just keep rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh babe.” Bri says sympathetically, as the Uber driver looks back at you in the mirror skeptically.

“What’s wrong?” Jake frowns, looking over at you.

“I’m fine!” You sob.

“You’re crying in an Uber, sure, yeah, that’s what people who are notoriously fine do.” Ethan says dryly.

“Not helping.” Bri hisses to him, rubbing your back gently.

“I’m fine.” You sob again, even though he’s right, and it couldn’t be further from the truth.

-----

Midway through your run on the morning of the day Matthew is leaving for the weekend, he makes an abrupt turn off your usual path and continues running.

“Matthew!” You shout after him, stopped at the corner.

“Are you coming?” He calls back, not stopping his jog to look back at you.

You huff, but then take off after him, practically sprinting to catch up, and then having to ease back into a jog when he doesn’t pick up the pace. You have no idea what his plan is, why he turned off your usual route, or why he decided to go down this road instead of following your usual path to lead to the beaches between your houses, and he’s giving you no hints, so you’re stuck following him at this almost leisurely pace.

He turns again, almost cutting you off, and then again, almost losing you when he cuts abruptly through a spot in some tall grass, leading finally to a very long wooden dock. You can’t even see where it leads to when you climb the steps up, but you follow him dutifully, slowing to a walk as he does the same. “Where are we going?” You ask again, falling into step with him, on the boards just wide enough for the two of you, the long path crossing over shrubbery and small pockets of salt water.

“Just wait a sec.” Matthew chides playfully. “You’ll see in a minute.”

“Ugh.” You whine, never patient enough, and he laughs, bumping your shoulder.

“It’ll be worth it.” He promises.

“Big promises.” You tease haughtily, but you’re eating those words as soon as you reach the end of the pier.

There’s a few steps to actually get down to the beach but you stop right at the edge of them, taking in the view in front of you The beach itself is empty, unsurprising maybe, for what you had to do to get here, but it’s peaceful- just you and Matthew, standing maybe a little too close but neither of you doing anything about it. To the left, the beach thins for a bit, the ocean spanning an endless stretch. To the right, off in the distance, your houses, on the horizon with some other familiar landmarks.

“How’d you find this?” You ask, stuck between being breathless and grinning. The view is amazing but more than that; something about being in this place, with Matthew, standing with your shoulders brushing against each other just feels special.

Fuck, it’s literally just a beach with a different view of your houses; you need to get this feelings shit under control.

“Brady and I found it years ago.” Matthew smiles softly, like it’s a fond memory. “Before it was all overgrown like that.”

“I like it.” You say, and then clarify. “The overgrown. It’s kinda cool.”

“A little character.” Matthew agrees.

“More private too, I’m sure.”

“That too.” He smirks, purposefully bumping your shoulder so you laugh, which you do, before the two of you settle into a comfortable silence.

“What time do you leave today?” You ask finally, the question that’s been weighing on you since he even told you he was going.

“Too soon.” He grimaces, looking down at his watch.

“Oh.”

“It’s always too soon.” He says, reaching for your waist and pulling you close.

“Don’t even tell me you’re not packed yet.” You chide, but you’re looping your arms around his neck as you speak and you can see the smirk growing across his face.

“Alright, I won’t.” He says and then he’s kissing you before you can lecture any further.

——-

“What’s wrong with you?” You flop down next to Ethan on the beach a few days later, holding your hand out expectantly for him to pass you a drink.

He takes his sweet time, slowly reaching into the cooler for a White Claw, and eyeing you carefully when he passes it over. “What’s wrong with me? You haven’t stopped moving since your partner in crime left the country for a few days. I could ask you the same thing!”

Your breath catches and your heart starts racing. You swore you’d been so careful this summer, that none of your friends had even noticed an change in either of you. “I’m crimeless.” You babble, playing off the joke. “I’ve had to be good for four whole days now.” You tease, but Ethan’s not even listening anymore, and you follow his eyes to watch Nora fall against another boy of the week after they score a point in volleyball, and you think maybe this isn’t about you at all.

——-

Matthew somehow manages to balance a bottle of Pink Whitney in his hands while climbing up your trellis and onto the balcony.

“You weren’t even going to get up and give me a hand?” He flops down on the bed next to you, nudging for your attention with his shoulder, his elbow, his words.

You hold your Kindle up lamely in his direction. “I’m at a really good part.”

He opens the bottle and holds it out for you to take a swig. “Lame.”

“I guess you don’t want to hear all my gossip then.” You sigh dramatically, already grinning before you even finish your sentence, knowing his reaction.

He doesn’t disappoint. “Gossip?” His ears perk up and he looks over at you, taking the bottle back for his turn. “Details, come on.”

You giggle. “Mmm, I don’t know if I should.” Matthew pokes your side, right in the spot he knows you’re most ticklish. “Stop that!” You slap at his hand.

“Never!” He does it again, then again, and then again, and then he’s rolling on top of you, and both your book and your gossip about Ethan and Nora are long forgotten as he yanks his own shirt off and then yours only a moment after.

——-

Nora’s newest man is having a party on his yacht for a bunch of his friends and she swings you all an invite.

“I’ve made some very wrong decisions in my life.” Melissa says as soon as you, her, Matthew, and Brady arrive, eyeing the yacht, the staff member waiting to greet you, and how Nora is waving eagerly at you from the deck.

“Now’s your time to find an upgrade.” Matthew quips, only barely avoiding spilling the Bellini he was just handed when Brady elbows him in the ribs.

Melissa looks both vaguely horrified and amused, but you, used to their antics, roll your eyes. “If you break that $200,000 vase, you’re going to be sorry.”

“That vase costs $200,000?” Brady lowers his voice as you start to approach the upper deck and the rest of the party, but it doesn’t manage to hide his shock.

“One eighty nine, nine, I think, if you want to get technical, but,” You shrug. You’d seen it last week with your mom when you were out shopping with her for the remodel. “Basically, yeah.”

Brady still hasn’t managed to wipe the look of shock off his face when Nora throws herself at you. She gets you and Matthew in one go, him steadying the three of you as she laughs, definitely already tipsy. “You’re here!” She beams.

“And now I might never leave.” You look around you.

Nora waggles her eyebrows. “That’s fine; Tom’s got a brother.”

You laugh. “Sure, okay. And when you break up with Tom next week and I’m here alone with the brother?”

“You’ll still have a yacht.” Melissa jokes.

“Good point.” You grin at her.

“Nor, where’s the bar?” Matthew interrupts before any of you can make any more jokes about Nora trying to set you up again.

“Right here!” She chirps, leading you all through the crowd to the bar, where Bri and Jake are already posted up. “I’ll be back soon!” She promises, after ordering a drink with you.

“Sure, ok.” Jake rolls his eyes at her and she grins at him before slipping through the crowd.

“No E?” Matthew asks, swirling the ice around his bourbon.

Bri shrugs. “He said he was busy today.”

“Huh.” Matthew says and abruptly you remember you never got a chance to tell him your theory about Ethan and Nora. “He didn’t mention anything yesterday.”

“Probably came up suddenly.” You say and then ask the bartender for a round of shots, because you can relate to loving someone who doesn’t love you back, whether Ethan knows it or not, and there’s a sense of solidarity it gives you.

——-

“Yacht parties fucking rule.” Melissa decides, an hour or two in, definitely tipsy on champagne drinks, and grinning each time someone walks around with trays of snacks.

You laugh. “I fucking love you.” You smack a kiss to her cheek.

She giggles again. “I fucking love you guys too. This has been such a fun summer.”

“Yeah, we’re fun fucking people!” Bri beams, getting a little too excited and spilling the last little bit of her drink. “Oops.”

“It was time for another one anyway.” You assure her and she grins.

“That’s my girl!” She stands, pointing at you and Melissa. “You better be done with those by the time I get back with another round!”

You drain yours before she even turns around. “Ready whenever!”

She cheers and parts the crowd, leaving you and Melissa. “Have you seen the boys lately?” You ask, scanning the crowd.

“They were playing shuffleboard earlier.” She looks behind her. “But I don’t see them now.”

You do. Or well, you see Matthew at least, still at the shuffleboard table, laughing at whatever the beautiful girl next to him just said. She’s one of those girls, the ones that make everyone feel inadequate the second she walks in the room, so of course she’s funny too.

Your stomach twists as Matthew laughs again and it’s not because you’ve had too much to drink. In fact, you think, as your stomach twists again watching Matthew lean in closer to that girl, you’re pretty sure you haven’t had enough to drink.

——-

“Where are we going?” You giggle as Matthew tugs on your hand, leading you down an empty hallway below the main party.

He gives you a look. “Come on, really?” He puts his ear up to a closed door and makes a face; you giggle again, but don’t have much time to follow up about why because he's pulling you down the hall to the next door, listening again, and then pulling you inside. As soon as the door closes, you press against him, not sure who kisses who first, only certain that you need more, more, more of him.

You can’t seem to get close enough to him, even when he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands teasing the ends of the hair that’s just starting to grow out. Matthew’s hands roam, one hand caressing your cheek and then sliding lower down your back and then teasing lightly along your rib cage, like he can’t decide what he wants.

“Been waiting for this all day.” He breathes out, pressing kisses down your jawline. “Can’t get enough of this.”

You nod eagerly. You too. You could have been doing this all day, couldn’t you? What was stopping you?

It’s hard to think as Matthew kisses you again, but you do pause, until his hands reach around to untie your bathing suit top. “Holy shit.” He mutters as it falls to the ground, eyes wide, and as flattering as it is, that moment apart is enough for you to remember why you weren’t doing this earlier.

And how, at the end of the day, you were still in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You don’t even realize you’ve said anything until Matthew stops, until he’s staring at you in confusion, until he’s stepping away and you have to catch yourself on the door handle.

“Ok yeah-“He babbles. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away-yeah, of course we can stop-we-“

“I don’t-“You start, annoyed he didn’t get it, that this is the one thing he hasn’t been on the same page about all summer, that this is really the one fucking thing you actually have to explain to him; and it feels like tears are coming, but you fight them back. “No, that’s not-This isn’t easy anymore! This isn’t the simple thing we were doing, Matty!”

“I don’t-” Matthew cuts off abruptly, running his fingers through the curls that have just started to grow back. “I don’t want to screw up if we try harder.”

We’re not trying, you want to say. We’ve barely been trying, want to scream. Instead, you reach down and gather your top, tying it back up and leaving him still gaping.

Every day it seems like you fall deeper for him, find something else about him that you want to wrap up and keep close to you, before the memories of this fade away, just as the summer always does, pulling Matthew-and your relationship- away with it.

—--

“You know, you can’t avoid him forever.” Ethan drops down into the chair next to you, and only when you’re sure he’s alone, do you open your eyes from the nap you were pretending to take.

“Avoid who?” You say, too quickly to even feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers, signaling for you to hand him a drink. “But if I were avoiding someone, I’d say you’d be severely underestimating my ability to commit to the bit.”

He laughs. “Alright, that’s a good point.”

“Should watch out for that glass house, too.” You say, and he takes a minute to press his cold can against your skin as payback before he opens it.

“Alright.” Ethan says finally, almost reluctantly. “I’ll talk if you do.”

You side-eye him, looking to see how serious he is. “Matthew and I have been hooking up all summer, except I’m in love with him and he’s only in it for the fun and games.” You wave the fingers of your free hand around sarcastically. “If it’s not easy breezy fucking Cover Girl…’

Ethan gives you a look. “Do you need another drink?” You do and he waits patiently for you to dig for a new White Claw and open it before saying, “Nora and I hooked up this year at school.” You choke on your new drink, the carbonation going down hard, and Ethan laughs hollowly. “I thought it’d be fine. It was. We’d get here, it’d be like any other summer.” He trails off, but you don’t need him to continue.

You’ve been living it.

“Easy breezy.” You hold your can out for him to cheers against. “Seems so simple.”

“Easy breezy.” He clinks his can against yours.

“Shit.” You see Matthew and Brady walking out of the ocean, still talking and hopefully distracted enough still to notice you still. “Gotta go.”

Ethan’s cackle might have given you away though. That, or the one flip flop you left behind in your haste to get away in time.

——-

You manage to successfully avoid Matthew for four days before he takes the matter into his own hands.

It’s not long after dinner, another burger night at the club with your parents where even they had commented on how they haven’t seen him for a few days, a conversation that made you want to crawl under the table and die, but instead only left you just on the wrong side of tipsy.

Maybe it’s because of that that Matthew tumbling into your room via the trellis comes as such a surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp, climbing out of bed to run over to him. “What the fuck?”

“I’m fine.” He says, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt off his shoulders. “Thanks for asking.”

“I’ve made that fall many times. Stop milking it.” Matthew grins back at you and now you know for sure that he’s fine. Which brings you back to your initial reaction. “What are you doing here?”

He gives you a look. “How else was I supposed to see you? You know, considering you’ve been avoiding me.” He pulls your flip flop out of his pocket. “I have your shoe, by the way.”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for this.” You say lamely.

“Jesus Christ.” He snickers and you can’t help but laugh. At least it breaks the tension a little, or at least it does, until Matthew stops laughing to smile at you instead, long enough that you stop laughing too.

“What?” You ask, the laugh still kind of fading away with the word.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It just feels like it’s been forever since I’ve heard you laugh like that now.”

And then it’s abrupt, the return of the tension. You feel your shoulders hike up, almost defensively, and Matthew’s eyes flash. “Not a lot of reason to laugh lately, I guess.”

He sighs, looking almost defeated. “What? What is it?” You shake your head. “Just tell me! Come on.” And you know what? If that’s how he wants to play it, fine. He’s the one that’s so concerned with screwing it up, then he can pick up the pieces too.

“I love you!” You laugh hollowly, a little vindicated with how many emotions wash over his face at your words. Good. You’ve been pushing them down deep for weeks; he can work on them for a bit now. “Isn’t that the worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No.” Matthew says quietly. “It’s really not.”

“What?” You frown, but he’s crossing the room and kissing you before you can say anything else.

“I messed up the other day.” Matthew kisses you again. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s kissing you like this, so you step away. “I don’t-I don’t want to screw up with you if we try harder. Because you mean too much to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to lose you either, but I can’t. I can’t keep this secret anymore.”

“I know.” He says. “I told my mom; she’s waiting to have drinks with us.” He’s so serious that your jaw drops for a second, but then he cracks a grin.

“You ass-oh my god!” You groan. “No, not again.

Matthew’s grinning as he steps closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. “Dunno, that joke might never get old.”

“We’re breaking up.” You declare, which is a little hard to do as he’s in the middle of trying to kiss you again. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Nah.” He teases you. “You love me.”

“Worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard.” You agree, finally allowing him to kiss you how he wants.

“Best fucking thing.” He corrects. “I love you, too.”

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