#second hand clothing toronto

[the-gloomth]

Closet Sale 2.0!

Our first Closet Sale was a big success! We can’t wait to host our next one on April 6th!!!! All the seller spots have been reserved and we have a ton of new participants with fresh styles to give your spring looks some new energy! RSVP on facebook event! -Tae

[zombetty666]

"They're doing it over there but they don't do it here....FASHION."

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙

word count: 7k

tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing

summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember

“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.

“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”

“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.

Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.

You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”

“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”

“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”

Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”

You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.

He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”

You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”

“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.

“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”

He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”

“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”

“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.

“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”

His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.

You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”

“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”

You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.

Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.

“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”

“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.

She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.

By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.

By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.

Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”

You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭

The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”

“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”

As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀

The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.

“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.

You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”

“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”

“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”

You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.

The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.

“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.

You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.

——-

Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.

“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”

“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.

“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character

growth.”

You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”

Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.

“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.

“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”

You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.

Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.

“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.

“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.

Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”

Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.

“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.

“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.

Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.

“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”

“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.

——-

The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.

Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”

“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.

“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”

She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.

The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.

Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.

“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.

“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.

One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.

“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.

You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.

“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”

During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.

Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.

“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”

Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.

He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.

“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”

“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”

“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.

“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.

“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”

Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.

And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.

“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”

You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”

Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.

Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.

“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.

Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.

“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.

Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.

Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.

“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”

Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”

You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”

You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”

When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”

“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”

“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.

Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”

You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”

He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.

“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”

His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ‘cause you were there.”

You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”

Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.

“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”

You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.

“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.

You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.

Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.

You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.

“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.

His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.

“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”

His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.

“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.

You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.

He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.

“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.

Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.

You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.

——-

Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.

You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.

The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.

When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.

“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.

“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.

Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.

After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.

“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”

“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”

He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”

“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”

You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.

“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”

Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.

“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.

You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”

“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”

Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.

Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.

You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

——

Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.

“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.

“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”

You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.

He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”

“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.

Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.

“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.

Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.

“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”

His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”

“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”

“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.

“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.

With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”

Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”

You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”

“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.

“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”

Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.

Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”

“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.

Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”

Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.

Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.

[hunnysahara]

˖⁺‧₊˚❀𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓪❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Hamzah x fem reader

Thought I'd be cool in California, I'd make you proud. To think I almost had it going but I let you down.

After a disastrous move to Los Angeles, you’re sent packing back home to Toronto trying to beat the gnawing feeling of loneliness.

WC: 4.4k

CW: cannabis usage / angst if you squint

No one really understood why you had to leave and you weren't willing to admit you would've rotted beneath the scalding Los Angeles sun if you didn't go back home. You didn't have the stomach to tell your parents they were right when they told you it wouldn't work out, that it wasn't something you could handle. 

Now you stare at the half-empty suitcase sprawled open on the floor, clothes spilling out in a heap like a discarded life. This is what it's come to- moving back into a cramped, outdated flat in Toronto with a roommate who spoke to you solely through dirty glares, a far cry from the polished, sun-soaked world of Los Angeles you thought you would never leave. The room is small, with barely enough space for you to walk around, let alone recreate any sense of the luxury you had grown used to. The walls are bare, a sterile white that mocks the vibrant, carefully curated lifestyle you had paraded on social media.

This must've been the fear that crept into your head during late nights coming to fruition. You had moved in a week ago and couldn't bring yourself to unpack, hardly leaving bed. You were living off the packs of ramen you bought from the gas station on the way from the airport.

You hadn't been happy in California, but being back home made you think that you wouldn't be happy anywhere. Everything there was too expensive, and everyone was coked out of their minds, and you had crawled out of there by the skin of your teeth like you had been dragged through hell. Your rise and fall have been documented in real-time for all of your followers to see even if you tried to play it cool, there were always internet sleuths who would speculate.

Still- you try to compose yourself the same way you would a song or a speech, what little savings you had wouldn't last forever. 

You start pulling clothes from the suitcase, one by one, the sharp scent of Los Angeles still clinging to the fabric. It's bitter, almost like a cruel joke- a reminder of everything you've lost. It's all here: the designer jackets, the sheer tops perfect for rooftop parties you won't be attending anymore. You didn't even like the clothes, you just liked the idea that someone would pay for you to wear one of their designs. 

What you hadn't accounted for when you made the split-second decision to move was just how cold Canada was in October. All you had to keep you warm were a handful of sweatshirts from high school and leggings you were gifted in a PR package months prior. 

Once you have forcefully shoved your clothes into your dresser and pushed every box to one side of the room, it looks almost intact from a certain point of view. You set up the tripod and camera with mechanical precision, your movements slow and deliberate as you adjust the angles, making sure the tiny frame of your new apartment looks somewhat presentable.

It's not much, and you know no amount of clever angles or editing will make this place look like your old life in Los Angeles, but you're determined to try. It's been too long since your last post your followers must be wondering where you've been, and why you've gone silent. If you don't get something out soon, they might stop caring altogether and with your digital footprint, you're sure you've closed out all other career options.

With a deep breath, you sit down in front of the camera, smoothing your hair and glancing at your reflection in the monitor. Your stomach twists as you catch sight of yourself—your eyes look hollow, your skin dull in the unfortunate lighting. 

"Hey, guys!" you begin, your voice sounding brittle and raspy. "I know it's been a while, and I just... wanted to give you all an update." You trail off, feeling the words crumble on your tongue. In the monitor, your smile falters, and you cringe, reaching forward to hit the stop button.

"Ugh," you groan. That was terrible. You sound fake like the voice actors in ads on Spotify. A voice like plastic, made to sell. You delete the footage and start again, clearing your throat, and shaking out your shoulders.

"Hey! So if you couldn't tell I have moved," You clench your teeth into a smile, awkwardly shifting to show the new space just slightly. "And I am in Canada once again," Around the end, your voice falls too soft, too unsure of your own words.

"Hi, everyone. It's been a crazy few weeks, and I know I owe you an explanation," you say, forcing the words out this time, willing them to sound genuine. "So, I'm back in Toronto, and I—" You stop, cringing as you watch your own awkwardness play out on the monitor. God, why do you look so stiff? You sound like you're reading from a script. Your eyes drop to the ground in frustration, biting the inside of your cheek to stop your off-putting words from mounting into a scream. 

In the two months you spent trying to pick yourself back up, it was like you forgot how to do your job entirely and simultaneously forgetting yourself. You weren't sure how you acted or how you were supposed to. The line between you and the caricature you played on camera was bleeding into itself.

Each attempt leaves you feeling more deflated, and more disgusted with yourself. The room starts to feel smaller, the walls inching closer with every failed take. You slam your finger onto the stop button one last time and bury your face in your hands, the frustration boiling over into hot, bitter tears.

"Whatever," you mutter to yourself, sniffling and wiping away whatever tears want to spill.

You grab your phone, hoping for a distraction, for anything to pull you out of this spiral of self-loathing. But as you scroll through your feed, that tightening in your stomach returns.

Your best friend from LA who had conveniently become busy the second things started folding in on you, was at a club with her new boyfriend who of course had a movie star smile and a head of thick curls. Another friend happily promotes her brand deal. You weren't even sure you were friends with them anymore, they didn't seem to take your absence to heart while theirs was so prominent to you that it felt like a presence.

Everyone you were friends with from high school was sharing their experiences with college, exams, dorms, and everything you traded for fifteen minutes of fame. Another friend in some exotic location, cocktail in hand. They're all doing something, achieving something. They're moving forward while you tripped and fell backwards.

You stare at the phone for what feels like an eternity, fingers hovering over your parents' contact. It's been months since you last spoke to them—their voices were tight with disappointment, the kind that sticks with you like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth. 

A lump forms in your throat as you scroll past their names again, hesitation gnawing at you. You know they're furious, and rightfully so. 

With a deep breath, you press "Call" before you can change your mind, holding the phone to your ear. It rings, once, twice, three times, the silence on the other end growing louder with every second. You glance out the window of your tiny apartment, the Toronto skyline nothing like the sunlit sprawl of LA. When the ringing stops, you almost wish they'd picked up, just to have the comfort of a familiar voice, even if it's charged with anger and disappointment.

Then the voicemail beeps.

"I'm back in Toronto, as you probably guessed," you say, voice cracking slightly. "The house... it's fine. It's not LA, but it's fine." You let out a shaky laugh that sounds hollow even to you. "Um, I know you're really mad at me but I would love to see you guys for lunch or maybe watch a movie or something like we used to."

You take a shaky breath, glancing at the phone like it might somehow give you the courage to continue. "I just wanted to hear your voices, I guess. I wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right and I wish that I listened to you. I just—" You stop yourself before the words start spilling out too fast, too frantic.

"LA was just a little too overwhelming for me, I missed Canada," you continue even if it isn't the full truth, your voice softer now. "You can yell at me all you want, I just want to see you guys." You huff a laugh to hide the urge to cry "Things are still going good, I'm glad I'm back. I don't think it'll be too different, maybe just a bit quieter."

There's a long pause, the silence of the room pressing in on you. You close your eyes, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. "I love you both," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "So if you want to, call me back and we can set up dinner or something. I'll... I'll talk to you later, bye."

Outside, it gently begins to rain. You don't need to press your ear to the glass to hear it, each splatter is like a whisper and you're so attentive since it's the only thing that's spoken to you in weeks.

You drag yourself off the bed, eyes burning from the unshed tears you've been holding back. Sitting around won't fix anything, and won't magically make your problems disappear. You need to do something. Anything to get out of your own head, to stop that endless cycle of self-loathing. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the mess of the apartment, clothes strewn across the floor, boxes stacked in corners, wrappers and empty water bottles piling up on the coffee table.

"Alright," you mutter to yourself, wiping the last of the tears from your cheeks. "Just... clean up. Start somewhere."

You grab a trash bag and move to the kitchen, shoving empty takeout containers and crumpled napkins into it, the stale smell lingering in the air. With each item that leaves your hands, you feel a tiny bit lighter. Cleaning, at least, gives you some semblance of control. You can't fix everything, but you can make this place feel a little less like a prison.

When the bag is full, you tie it up with more force than necessary, the plastic crinkling angrily under your fingers. You glance around the room, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the cleaner surfaces, the space looking a little more livable. It's not much, but it's something.

You grab the trash bag and head to the front door, holding it awkwardly under one arm as you fumble to turn the knob. The rain is light enough that it leaves you just sprinkled as you awkwardly rush to the garbage can.

It's only when you turn to look back at your door that you remember it locks upon closing. Your breath catches in your throat as you frantically pat down your pockets, then scan the floor, hoping to see them lying somewhere nearby. "No, no, no, no," you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you realize they're not on you. You can picture them clearly, sitting smugly on the kitchen counter, just out of reach.

Conveniently, this was when your roommate had picked up a late shift, leaving you locked out of the flat. 

You try the knob just in case, rattling it as if it might magically give way. It doesn't. A strangled sound escapes your throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Fuck!" You shout, pulling on the handle like that would do anything. 

"Are you kidding me?" you seethe, pulling away from the door and kicking it. Hard. The impact sends a jolt of pain up your foot, but you don't care. You kick it again, harder this time, the door thudding in response, refusing to budge.

As childish as you felt kicking the door, it's the final thing to tip you over and you can no longer hold back the tears that were waiting to fall. They're hot and stinging, blurring your vision as you slam your hands against the door again and again. The pain in your knuckles feels good in a way, like a release. You curse under your breath, the words tumbling out, raw and vicious. "Damn it!"

Your strength drains quickly, each hit becoming weaker until you're just slapping the door with the flat of your palms, gasping for breath, the anger dissolving into a wave of grief and exhaustion. You slump against the door, sliding down until you're sitting on the cold, hard floor, your shoulders heaving with sobs.

You pull your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms. The street is quiet, the only sound of your broken cries echoing softly around you. It's like every emotion you've been bottling up since you got back is pouring out now, in the cold air and oncoming rain, in front of this unyielding door. You cry for the life you lost, for the mistakes you made, for the uncertain, terrifying future that stretches ahead of you.

This can't be the rest of your life, right?

Then you sense it—a presence, a pair of eyes on you. You glance up, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, and spot him: your neighbour. He's leaning against his brick doorway just a few feet away, a joint lazily balanced between his fingers, looking at you with an awkward mixture of concern and confusion from beneath the awning. 

You hadn't noticed him or the smell of pot which must've been subdued by the rain. You vaguely recognize him. Hamzah, you think his name is. Never had you known he was your neighbour but you were sure you had seen him on your feed a couple of years ago. Now, though, he's standing there, his eyes locked onto you like he's stumbled upon something he wasn't meant to see.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. He takes a drag, the tip of the joint glowing faintly in the dim hallway. You can see the smoke curl around him as he exhales, the smell reaching you a moment later. You swallow hard, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. Great. Not only are you locked out, but now you've got an audience to witness your breakdown.

"You, uh... you good?" he asks finally, his voice rough from the smoke. It's an awkward, tentative question as if he's not quite sure what else to say in this scenario. 

"Um," You straighten your posture, coughing to clear the bubble in your throat from sobbing "Yup."

He shifts uncomfortably, scratching at the back of his neck. "Do you... need help or something? Like... with the door?" he offers, taking another drag.

"I just locked myself out, had a bad day," You say, trying to slip in an explanation for your little show "Uh, my roommate can let me in when she gets home." 

He exhales a cloud of smoke, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I can see that." Another pause, then he adds, "You want me to call someone? Like a locksmith or something? Is there something I can do?"

You glance up at Hamzah, eyes still red from crying, and see him taking another drag. The silence between you feels heavy and awkward. Impulsively, you blurt out, "Can I have a hit of that?" You're not sure why you ask—maybe you just need something to take the edge off, something to dull the sting of reality.

Hamzah hesitates, looking you over like he's trying to gauge how serious you are. Then, with a small shrug, he steps closer and extends the joint. "Sure," he says, holding it out and gesturing for you to come closer. 

Sheepishly, you move from your spot on the stoop and scamper over to his patio. You take it from his fingers, feeling the warmth of where his hand was. It's not like you've never done this before, but it feels strange now, in this setting, stuck under an awning with a virtual stranger. You bring the joint to your lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke burns your lungs for a moment, and you cough, fighting the urge to wince as you hand it back to him.

"Thanks," you croak, blinking to clear your watery eyes. The two of you sit in silence for a beat, and you sense him watching you again, more curious now than awkward.

"So," he starts, breaking the silence. "Why are you locked out? What happened?"

"Oh, it's one of those automatic locks but it's actually not since the keypad is busted," Even as you string the words together they don't make sense to you but Hamzah slowly nods.

"Okay," His eyes are half-lidded and another silence stretches between you until he fills it "So you just moved in?" He asks to which you nod "From where?"

"California."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Coke." You answer a bit too fast "Everyone is coked up all the time and it's just kinda miserable no matter where you go." 

"Yeah that checks out," He takes a drag before offering you another hit. Hamzah's eyebrows draw in as he studies the curves of your face and the bridge of your nose, finally, he says "Sorry, you just look really familiar."

"Yeah, you do too," You feel the smoke fill your lungs, the sensation feels as rough as sandpaper.

"Yeah," he reiterates, drawing the word out, eyes still on you. "No, I do know you," Hamzah announces like he's cracked a riddle "I used to watch your videos."

"Used to," You repeat, sucking a sharp breath through your teeth "Youch."

His eyes widen slightly "No, no, not like that, I'm just busy now, like I don't have time to-

You cut him off with a laugh "I don't care, I'm just being a dick."

"Oh," He takes a breath out and his lips slowly curl into a small smile "Cool." 

Silence hangs between the two of you like two birds on a wire as you pass the joint back and forth. The eeriness is filled by the patter of rain, harsher now and splashing against the concrete, so loud it sounds like pebbles being tossed onto sheets of glass.

"Are you like- okay?" He glances at you, coughing into his fight for a moment. 

You knew the marijuana had hit you when everything felt like it was moving in frames and suddenly your body didn't feel so heavy "I dunno," You answer truthfully, tongue loosened by the pot in your system "I just don't know what to do."

"How old are you?" He asks abruptly.

"Twenty-one." When the words leave your mouth he laughs "What?"

"What do you mean you don't know what to do? Watch a movie, eat some cereal, you've got time."

You look ahead of you at the street, water dribbling it's way into drains. Oddly, it felt like exactly what you needed to hear, that jigsaw falling into place. The joint is almost finished now, just a few more puffs left. You take a slow drag, savouring the earthy, slightly sweet taste before exhaling a thin stream of smoke that mingles with the cool night air. "It doesn't feel like it." 

"Nah," He waves it off "You've got time and- " Hamzah fishes another joint out of his hoodie pocket, holding it up with a grin. "Since you're already having the worst day ever," he says, "Might as well make it a little more interesting." 

You stare at him for a moment, the remains of your previous frustration tugging at the edges of your mind. But then you shrug. What do you really have to lose at this point? A small, wry smile creeps onto your face. "Sweet."

-

Hamzah's living room is messy in a comfortable way, with gaming consoles scattered around the TV and piles of clothes thrown across the couch. "Make yourself at home," he says with a grin, already rummaging through a pile on the floor to pull out a small tripod and camera.

You collapse onto the couch, feeling the familiar thrill of preparing to film, even if this time it's more chaotic and impulsive. Hamzah sets up the tripod, the lens trained on the two of you. He fumbles for a second, trying to find the record button.

"Okay, okay," he mutters to himself, squinting at the camera. "Ready?"

You nod, suppressing a giggle as he finally gets it going. He plops down beside you, and you both stare at the red light blinking at the top of the camera.

"Hey, what's up, YouTube!" Hamzah begins, his voice loud and overly enthusiastic, making you burst into laughter. He shoots you a mock-serious glance, pointing at you. "So, this is my neighbour... my locked-out, kind of sad neighbour. We just had a major debrief."

"Major," You nod in confirmation.

Hamzah grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. "Right, right. She is in a bit of what I call a slump that we are getting her out of. So, what brings you to the fine streets of Toronto?"

You launch into an exaggerated tale of your move back, embellishing details to make it sound even more ridiculous. He plays along, interjecting with snarky commentary, and soon the two of you are riffing off each other like a well-rehearsed duo.

For a moment, you forget about the locked door, the mess of your life outside this room. You're just... here, laughing with this random stranger, acting like a complete goof in front of a camera.

"And that's how we ended up here," Hamzah finishes, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Two neighbours, locked out, stoned out of their minds, trying to salvage what little dignity they have left."

"I think your dignity is fine, actually," You correct him.

"Mmm, I dunno about that," he shakes his head "My digital footprint is insane."

"How insane?"

Hamzah holds a finger out before reaching into his pocket and taps around, holding his phone out to show you the screen. You watch as several clips play one after another, him saying incredulous things, taking shrooms at Comic-Con, slipping in a hot tub, and eating a comically large hotdog. 

"Ah, I see," You nod slowly.

"Can you believe I did all of that sober?"

"No, actually, maybe, I don’t know you that well."

"Well," He gestures to his phone "That's basically all you need to know."

"Really?"

"Nah," he shakes his head "What am I saying?"

The glint of a green light catches your eye and you're reminded that this entire conversation is being filmed. You nudge Hamzah's bicep, pointing at the camera "Dude, we have a video to make."

"Wait," he puts his hand out, "I think I just discovered the solution for world peace."

"Do tell." Nothing makes sense, you’re just putting together the first words that come to mind like a game of scrabble.

"Everyone gets high at the same time and then we can all resolve our issues." In the moment, it seemed genius, like there were no issues to it. In your state, your face splits into a smile and you give Hamzah a high five.

"But seriously, we gotta film because I'm going to be very irrelevant very soon."

"Right, right. We will-" his head swerves, looking around for something to hold interest, then, he goes back to his phone, opening up Garage Band "Make a song."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Nah, just trust me, we will freestyle, it'll be good."

You blink "I can't sing."

Hamzah shrugs, tapping a button that creates a drum loop. "Who cares? It doesn't have to be good. In fact, the worse it is, the funnier it'll be. People love random off-putting stuff that doesn't make sense."

You lean forward, hands on your knees as you try to think of some lyrics. "Okay, okay," you say, catching your breath. "How about... 'I got locked out of my house, life's a mess, lost my success'?"

Hamzah snorts, nodding eagerly. "Perfect. And then, something like, 'My neighbour showed up with a joint, now we're high, nothing's going as planned...'"

You both burst out laughing at how terrible it is, but that only makes it more fun. As the best of a song comes to fruition, you start shouting out lyrics in a half-singing, half-yelling voice, each line worse than the last.

"Can't pay my rent, don't have a cent!" you cry, dramatically throwing your head back.

"Got kicked out of school, and now I'm feeling uncool!" Hamzah chimes in, wailing.

It's chaotic, utterly ridiculous, and so far from anything either of you would ever consider sharing online, but the sheer absurdity of it leaves you both gasping for breath between fits of laughter. You catch glimpses of each other between the laughter, and you realize how freeing it feels to just be silly, to do something that has absolutely no pressure to be perfect or polished. In truth, it wasn't that funny but under the influence, breathing was funny.

As the last of the laughter dies down, you hear the faint rumble of a car engine pulling up outside. You freeze, holding your breath, listening as a car door slams shut and footsteps approach. It takes you a second to register what's happening, and then your eyes widen in realization.

"Oh my god," you mutter, scrambling to your feet. You rush to Hamzah's window, peering outside. There, standing by the curb with a purse in hand, is your roommate. Relief washes over you so suddenly it nearly knocks you over.

"Is that...?" Hamzah asks, glancing out the window beside you.

"Yep," you reply, feeling a mixture of giddiness and embarrassment flood your chest. "That's Margot. I can finally get back inside!" You turn back to him, grinning ear to ear. "I should probably go but uh- thanks for the weed," you say, heading toward the door. Hamzah just nods, a lopsided smile on his face as he follows you to the doorway.

"Oh- yeah," he says, opening the door for you. 

You give him a quick wave, then jog down across the yard to catch your roommate before she heads inside. By the time you reach her, she's already at the door, fumbling with her keys.

"Hey! Thank god you're back!" you blurt out, slightly out of breath. "I locked myself out."

She gives you a skeptical look, seeing your red, glassy eyes but nods, unlocking the door. You slip inside with a sigh of relief, feeling a little steadier, a little less lost than you had a few hours ago. Before she can ask more questions, you glance back toward Hamzah's house, catching sight of him leaning casually in his doorway, waving goodbye with a lazy, knowing grin.

You wave back, shaking your head slightly. What a weird, unexpected day it's been. And yet, somehow, you don't feel quite as alone anymore. It's a weird serenity that washed over you. Toronto didn't seem as hopeless as it did initially.

A/N: Anyways, if you’ve read this far, feel free to send a request. I didn’t really know where I was going with this, just wanted to write something Hamzah.

[fiapartridge]

REQUEST tbh idk how ur request work but I have an idea

Going to one of Luke’s games but it’s Toronto vs NJ and wearing a maple lefes jersey

And luke sees her and is banging on the glass to get ur attention and is like “off now”

Idk this idea popped in my head lmao

R U Mine? | luke hughes

"all i ever wanna say is, 'are you mine?'"

luke hughes x reader

summary: you wear a toronto maple leafs jersey to luke’s game and he can't help but wish you were wearing his...

warning(s): cursing

hiii @bibella8swan <3 hope u like mitch marner, if not, just imagine someone else LMAO + i really need to make a navigation with like a proper request/prompt system, im tryna be a pro tumblr writer gal

You loved Mitch Marner, like loved him. 

Having grown up in Toronto, your family loved hockey just as much as the next family— which was a lot. They watched every single Leafs game, went to every single Leafs signing, and they even had a shrine of Leafs memorabilia in your parents’ home office. To say they liked the Leafs was an understatement (honestly, they would probably tackle you if you said that)— they were obsessed. 

Luke knew you loved the Leafs. I mean, he lived next door to you for a good chunk of his life, how could he not know? It wasn’t like you were sporting all things Leafs whenever you were with him, but Luke paid enough attention to notice your dedicated Mitch Marner Pinterest boards and your number 16 lockscreen. Though you rarely ever said it out loud (honestly, I don’t think you’ve ever told Luke, let alone anyone else, about your love for Mitch), Luke knew— because Luke knew you. He noticed the little things, like the way you always needed to carry around a lint roller in your bag because you just knew there would be unwanted lint wherever you end up going, or the way you laughed at everything, even bad jokes, because you hated silence even more. 

When he moved to Michigan, you were scared that things were going to change between the two of you, but it never did. He was still your best friend, and you were still his. When he found out you were moving to New Jersey for college, he was ecstatic given that he had just gotten drafted to the Devils. 

Getting to spend more time with his best friend? It was the best news he had ever been given. Luke started planning out your guys’ lives in New Jersey the second you told him about your plans. Maybe you guys could share an apartment instead of him sharing one with Jack, and maybe you could go to all of his home games and cheer him on in the stands? 

Luke moved to New Jersey after Michigan’s loss in the Frozen Four, and while it was a bitter moment, knowing that he was finally going to see you made it not so terrible. 

When Luke arrived in New Jersey, it was like nothing had changed. The two of you spent every single day together, and there wasn’t a single moment when you guys weren’t laughing, or making fun of each other while laughing. You even got an apartment with him, just like he had planned. It was perfect. Maybe that was when Luke understood that his love for you was way beyond just friendship. Luke loved you. Quinn said that Luke had fallen in love with you the moment he saw you, but he just wasn’t bright enough to see it— I guess college did teach him a couple of things. 

After a few more months of living together, Jack had finally managed to slap some sense into the both of you after finding out that you were both going on Tinder dates and that none of you were happy. In fact, you two were miserable. Every single time you watched the other person walk out that front door in nice clothes and high expectations, you felt some part of yourself crumble to pieces. 

You hated the thought of someone getting to hold Luke’s hand or cuddle into his side, or even get the chance to kiss him. You had known Luke your entire life and some random girl from some stupid app that he had known for, what? An hour? Got to get closer to him than you? You hated that, and little did you know, Luke hated that, too.

Which brought you to where you were now: at Luke’s game against the Toronto Maple Leafs. 

You slipped into the front row, sitting beside Ryleigh and Brooke, as you got the most perfect view of Luke as he and the rest of the Devils skated onto the ice for warmups before the game. You were engaged in conversation with Brooke when you felt Ryleigh tap your shoulder repeatedly. Whipping your head in her direction, she pointed to the glass and said, “I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” she laughed. 

When you looked toward the glass, you saw Luke banging against the clear pane. You were confused, to say the least. It wasn’t unusual for Luke to give you some sort of attention during warmups, like a simple wave, or a small smile, but for him to be banging on the glass? It had to be important. 

“Off," he nodded his head at you. "Now.”

You furrowed your brows. What was he talking about? You squinted your eyes, signaling that you had no idea as to what he was referring to. 

Luke pinched his jersey, pulling it up and down, and you immediately knew what it was. You were wearing a Marner jersey. What did he think was going to happen? The love of your life was on that ice— of course you were going to wear his jersey! But then again, the love of your life was banging on the glass, getting a million stares from Devils fans and Leafs fans alike, just so he could gain some comfort knowing that you were in that crowd, wearing his jersey. 

You didn’t quite understand that, though. You wondered why it was so important to Luke. I mean, you wore his jersey to every single home game. It was one game against a team you loved. What was the big deal?

You shrugged him off, shooing him to go back to the others when you heard the siren go off, signaling that it was time for the game to start. He shook his head and skated off to the Devils’ bench. 

The first period was… definitely something.

Luke got the puck a lot, but he also missed the puck… a lot. He skated around the ice like a lost puppy, and you bit your nails, wondering if it really was the jersey that was bothering him. It didn’t seem like a big deal to you. You’ve loved Mitch Marner since the concept of crushes even came to you. The Maple Leafs were your team. What was so wrong with that?

During the intermission, you sprang out of your seat and marched over to the direction of the locker rooms. The Rock was like a second home to you. You knew the place like the back of your hand which made it so much easier to get to Luke— because you needed to get to Luke before the second period started. You needed to know why it was taking such a toll on him. 

When you walked towards the hall of the locker rooms, your eyes met Luke’s and he immediately ran over to you, or rather hobbled to you, on his skates. On his way over, his right hand fished for the bottom of his jersey as he pulled it over his head in one clean motion. God, it was the hottest thing you had ever seen. 

“Take this,” he said, still out of breath from the game. 

You shook your head. “That thing is full of sweat, Luke.”

“Then let me grab you a clean one from my stall,” he suggested before turning around.

You scoffed, grabbing his wrist and swiveling him back towards you. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes. “The last time you said that, you were pissed off that Jack got the last slice of pizza and the next time you got pizza, you added olives because you knew Jack hated them. It’s not nothing, Luke.”

He looked everywhere but you, because he knew you’d read him like a magazine. He knew that he could never hide a single thing from you, because just as he had paid attention to you, you had paid attention to him. You knew him, and deep down, you knew why the jersey was such a big deal to Luke, but you wanted to hear him say it. 

You wanted Luke to call you his. 

His shoulders relaxed for the first time since intermission started, and his eyes finally met yours. “I know you love Mitch. You always have, and that’s never been a problem, and it never will be, but… I wanted you to pick me.”

You narrowed your brows, stepped closer to the boy you loved so much, and you whispered almost tauntingly, “Why should I pick you?”

He bent down, held the sides of your face, and crinkled his eyes in nothing but cringe. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Gosh, I think Mitch is calling my name,” you frowned. 

He shook his head, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “For some fucking reason, I love you, Y/N, and I want you to wear my jersey, I’m begging you to wear my jersey, because as selfish as this sounds, I need to know that you’re not Marner’s, and you’re not the Leafs’ — you’re mine. I want you… to be mine.”

Your face broke into a bright smile. “Fucking finally,” you laughed, pushing him off of you and towards the locker room. “Give me the damn jersey, Hughes, intermission ends in seven! Also,” you pulled him back. “I love you, too.”

[ifimdreaming]

Meeting your family

Luke Hughes x reader || fluff, very soft

author’s note: this is very all over the place and not at all edited - im just trying to put all of my writings in one place so pls bare with me. ok love you bye.

word count: 2.0k

-

It was Easter weekend and you were finally able to bring Luke to a family gathering. 

You and your family were all getting together at your dads house in Toronto for the weekend, which is the perfect opportunity for them to meet your boyfriend Luke.

When your dad had asked if Luke would be coming with you this weekend, you had asked Luke if he was comfortable being away from his family for the whole weekend considering it was Easter. 

But because both Jack and Quinn would be busy with games, the Hughes family planned to have a dinner the week after.

A dinner in which Luke did not hesitant to invite you to and kept reminding you, you said you were definitely going to be there when his parents asked if you’d be joining them.

 Which definitely wasn’t a problem, although it was a little bit nerve racking to think you would finally be meeting his parents in person and not just over the phone or on facetime calls. 

You had spent all morning cleaning your apartment after you and Luke had friends over last night and completely forgot to pack until you almost had to be out the door. 

“Hey, if we’re gonna make it there before 8pm like your dad said, then we have to leave now!” Luke called out from the living room of your apartment as you were in your bedroom finishing up putting your clothes in your overnight bag. 

Luke never failed to be ready before you were and usually didn’t mind waiting for you even if it caused you to be a little bit late. 

but you live almost two hours from your dad and Luke wanted to make a good impression since he would be meeting most of your family for the first time. 

So he really didn’t want to be late. 

“Luke it really doesn’t matter if we’re a few minutes late, my dad will not think it's your fault…trust me.” 

“I’m the one driving so technically it would be my fault for not getting you out the door fast enough.”

“Plus i’m guessing you’ll want to stop at tims or starbucks on the way there? so that will slow us down even more.” He replies while walking towards your room, you make eye contact as he stops at your door frame, staring at you with an annoyed glare. 

You ignore his previous assumptive statement and continue packing before you go to stand up, “Could you please bring this down to the car?” You say with a smile as you zip up your bag and walk towards him hoping he will take it from you. 

You place a peck on Luke's cheek and he sighs, “Pleaseee?” You drag out and grab his hand, looking up at him pleadingly, hoping he will get over his attitude and give in to your advances. 

You slowly lean forward and press a kiss on his lips and he deepens it, placing one hand on the back of your neck, bracing his other hand on the doorframe.

You part your lips slightly, wanting more of him and he pushes his tongue into your mouth, dancing it around a little before you take a step forward, bumping into him with your chin.

You’re wishing you could get closer to him but your bag rests right between your bodies and is keeping you just far enough apart, serving as a reminder that you really should be out the door by now. 

Luke mumbles against your mouth, “mm Ok...”, You softly moan against his mouth after hearing him speak.

“We h-have to go.” He says, and reluctantly breaks the kiss, taking your bag from your hands as he heads towards the door and you walk down to the car together.

Arriving at your dads house a little after 8:30, You and Luke sat in the car for a second just taking a moment together before going inside. 

Luke turns off the car and you look towards him waiting for a kiss before you head inside.

He looks over at you with a smile and leans over but just hovers over your face for a moment.

 “I’ll give you a kiss but this will be the last one until we’re alone again so you better enjoy it…” He says before leaning down and kissing your lips softly and firmly.

 You try to prolong the contact by following his lips as he starts to back away, but Luke places his hand on your jaw and softly pushes his thumb against your chin to break the kiss.

You lean forward again and Luke just holds your face and smiles back at you, softly laughing at your determination. 

Luke had arrived at your apartment last night after a long flight and you immediately had people over, which means you haven’t really had that much time just to yourselves.

You really miss your quiet moments together, just being able to enjoy each other while you're together since that isn’t very often. 

But Luke hates PDA in general, so you wouldn’t expect him to be any different around your family - especially around your dad who he hasn’t even met yet.

You go inside and are met with the sound of the two little dogs barking as they run up to your feet and greet you both at the door. Luke bends down to give them a quick pet and you shout a ‘Hello’ into the house and hear the sounds of your family loudly greeting you, happy to hear you two finally arrive. “Oh they FINALLY showed up!” Your youngest sister calls out from the living room, clearly teasing you for being over half an hour late. 

Your dad and stepmom walk over to you first and your dad pulls you into a tight hug and then steps back, allowing your step mom to give you a hug as well. 

Your dad watches you for a moment and then is standing awkwardly as he’s faced with Luke. “Hi, sorry we’re late, it was this one's fault..” Luke shyly says as he points over to you, waiting for you to refute him, but you just laugh and roll your eyes, knowing he is right. 

“Well, this is Luke obviously.’ You say with a laugh and your dad reaches out a hand to Luke, which he promptly accepts to shake. “Nice to meet you!” they say in harmony and awkward laughs ensue as they let go of the handshake and stand there, not saying anything more. 

Earlier this week over the phone, your dad would not stop telling you how excited he was to meet Luke, knowing that he is a Hughes and is supposedly ‘bound for great success’ and ‘going to change the game’, - which you purposefully left out of the conversation you told Luke you had with him, because you would quite literally never hear the end of how much your dad loves him - so you assumed this meeting would go a little differently, but you guess your dad was just anxious to meet him, which in turn made everything a smidge more awkward. 

You slightly side step from the doorway, attempting to make the introduction maybe a little less agonizingly embarrassing by, oh I don't know, leaving the situation. 

Luke follows shortly behind you, grabbing on to your fingers as you lead him into the living room where everyone is sitting, “This is Luke everybody!” You say quickly, getting it out of the way. 

Your sister’s have heard a lot about Luke and had known you two were dating long before your parents did, so you weren't worried at all about what they would think of him. “Nice to finally meet you!” Your oldest sister says.

“Yeah, we’ve heard lots about you!” Your middle sister says with a smile.

Luke stands and smiles at the three of them sitting on the couch together as they greet him, he waits before returning pleasantries, seemingly learning his lesson from before. 

After being greeted, You and Luke make your way to the love seat across from the couch and take a seat as your dad hands you a bowl of popcorn before he sits down, which you graciously accept, being too busy to remember to have had dinner that day. 

Luke looks over to you as you adjust yourself closer to him on the couch and happily smile up at him trying to ease his mind, knowing he is much more comfortable in new situations when he knows that you are comfortable. 

“So Luke, you play hockey at the University of Michigan?” Your dad asks an obvious question and points to Luke’s Umich hockey hat that he constantly wears around you because he left it at your apartment when he visited a few months ago and says he will remember to take home with him if he wears it, but never does.

 “Yeah I do, I've had a really great couple of years actually, I’ve learned a lot. it’s been really fun.” 

Your dad nods his head smiling, getting ready to ask a million more questions about hockey, school, Luke’s family, etc. You can tell he is just getting started.

Thankfully he is cut off by your youngest sister, “I have a question Luke, did you get her into liking hockey? Cuz’ she never used to like it until you two started dating but she’ll probably deny that…” she says with a smirk on her face, knowing that you started enjoying hockey long before you and Luke started dating and just wants to annoy you with the question.

“You know what, now that you mention it, I think I did get her into it, we do go to a lot of games together now but I don’t think she’d ever been before I took her.” He replies, laughing and nudging your arm a little as you squint your eyes at him but have a mouth full of popcorn and are unable to reply to his quip. 

“Anyway, what movie are we watching tonight?” You ask once you’ve fully swallowed your food, knowing that your family usually watch a movie if you’re all together on a friday night. 

“I was thinking we could watch the new Batman, have you seen that one Luke?” Your dad asks him, completely ignoring the fact that you were the one that asked about the movie in the first place.

 “Yeah I have! I really liked it so I’d watch it again if that’s what we decide on.” Luke says enthusiastically, evidently being more agreeable than usual, just slightly sucking up to your dad. 

You look over at Luke with a smirk as he avoids your eye contact, knowing that you are onto him. 

“Then that’s what we’ll watch!” Your dad says as he swiftly grabs the remote, turning on the movie and goes to settle into his spot on the couch beside your stepmom. 

“You’re lucky we all like this movie…” Your middle sister says as she looks over at the two of you shaking her head jokingly. 

Your sisters are teasing both you and Luke, knowing your dad is pandering to your interests because he is a fan of Luke and wants him to enjoy his time here.

Luke just laughs at her remark and looks at me with a warm smile.

 “I am lucky ya know..” Luke whispers in your ear as the movie starts and the attention is finally off of the two of you.

 “Me too.” You say back to him quietly as you squeeze his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips to place a soft kiss. 

You already know that Luke would promptly reject a kiss on the lips at this moment, because of how aware he is of your family sitting on the other side of the room. 

“My dad loves you” You whisper sincerely into his ear with a giggle, teasing him.

“What? Really? …Does he?” Luke asks in a low voice and you just look at him, giggling softly, and give him a hard time by not answering his questions.

“Does he really like me?” he questions again quietly after you still don’t answer him, letting his curiosity get the best of him. 

Not being able to take him seriously, you burst into a fit of laughter at how curious and eager he is to know what your dad thinks of him. 

“Can you two please be quiet over there? We’re watching this movie because of you, so you better pay attention.” Your youngest sister says sassily.

Luke hastily apologizes as he covers your mouth and you continue laughing into his hand.

-

-

[sweetstarart]

40 Wallace Wells Headcanons!!!

He loves the band gorillaz! His current favorite songs are Dare, Dirty Harry, Rock The House and 5/4

He used to animate and draw in college but he hasn't really picked it up since then

He and Scott don't have much closet space, so they put some of their clothes in a kitchen cabinet. Scott is very scared Ramona will open it one day

When he eats burger He takes the pickles off and saves them for last. He does the same thing with shrimp pasta and also likes it most when there are 5 shrimp left over to eat. Scott thinks this is weird.

He's quite a powerful psychic, but since he's a beginner he has no idea how to utilize his powers. In the future, Old Wallace becomes one of the most powerful psychics in Toronto

Old Wallace's hair turned grey after what him and Mobile simply refer to as a "Psychic Mishap". This same mishap lead to him also needing very strong prescription glasses

He has 5 favorite colors, Green, Pink, Black, Teal and Red. If you ask which is his favorite, he'll usually cycle through 3 of those options before telling you he doesn't have a favorite

He scratches his knuckles when he gets nervous

He keeps his hands behind his back while doing this so people are less likely to notice

Sometimes he taps his fingers instead

Starting book 2, He's been taking French classes. He likes to say dumb things in French around the house that don't apply to whatever they're talking about, Scott is none the wiser

He likes turtles!

Although Wallace sometimes kicks Scott in his sleep, he can actually be fairly affectionate sometimes if he's feeling happy or lonely. Sometimes he hugs Scott in his sleep

Strangely enough, he doesn't do this to mobile until a few years into their relationship

Wallace used to have braces and acne in high-school. It is one of the very few things he's insecure about

He constantly forgets Young Neil's name and swears its either Francis or Dennis

Him and Other Scott have known eachother since they were kids but only became friends in high-school, when Wallace would stay over at his house from time to time

According to Scott and Other Scott, seeing Wallace win a drinking game is one of the most horrifying things they've ever seen

His record is 19 beers in 5 seconds

Oftentimes He wears a variety of Bracelets on his arm. His sweater usually obscures this, but they can be heard clanking together when he runs. When asked why he does this, he says he's "Matching with a friend"

His birthday is July 4th

He ran away from home during high-school, leading to him crashing at his friend's houses until he finally got an apartment

He frequently stayed with Scott, Other Scott and Roxy (until they stopped being friends towards the end of high-school)

Like the anime said, he let Scott crash at his place and he never left. At first, he figured since Scott let him stay over a week once, it only seemed fair to do the same. Soon a week turned into a month,but he couldn't bring himself to simply tell him to leave

He's somewhat of a pushover, but is too prideful to admit it (or embarrassed... who knows!)

He has tons of pride merch that he saves specifically for the month of May. Not June, because he "likes to stand out" (It's actually because when he started doing this, he got the month wrong)

He won a Ball point pen from a high-school drinking game. He calls it his most "prized possession" and he keeps it in a jewelry box alongside his bracelets

Scott is listed as "The first guy you should call if I ever get drunk and pass out bc he knows good and well he owes me a favor" on a list his frequent bartender asked him to make (Her name is Leni btw)

He and Gideon (the cat) would actually get along pretty well if they ever met

He and Gideon (the man) would not get along very well. But Wallace would find him extremely attractive in secret

He finds most of Ramona's exes attractive with the exceptions being Roxy and Kyle katayanagi

He passed his driving test while completely drunk. He woke up the next day and had no clue how to drive and couldn't even remember doing it until he found the license in the kitchen sink

He's had tons of flings, but never had an actual boyfriend until he met Mobile

He is so gay, that he litterally pukes rainbows

He thinks Stephen is hot. His only reason for not pursuing him is the fact that Scott made him promise to never make out with his friends

His favorite food is shrimp Alfredo

The reason Wallace makes bacon so often is because he bought it in bulk once as a dare from one of his friends. No clue what kind of bacon it was, but it expired a year from that day and the bottom shelf of his fridge was packed full of it for months

He always loses at rock paper scissors

He knows how to play piano

He has Hayfever

And... that's it! Except not really, I actually have way more!

But thats all I'm posting for now...

Thanks for reading!

[thebrandywine]

May I has “you’re not as bad as everyone says you are” for the prompt list? 💜🦑

Them meeting was incidental. Leon had gotten a call from Chris in Romania and had flown to Toronto to meet him, had been standing on the roof of the BSAA NA main building as the bird had settled, had watched Chris get off with his squad, all of them armed, and had been told, "Watch them."

Chris had blown past him, and Leon had watched them all go. He remembers wondering vaguely when he was going to start hearing gunshots, but he hadn't tried to stop them. He'd known Chris too long even then to think that he could cut him off at the pass with whatever he was about to do. So, instead of fighting or asking what was going on, he'd turned his attention back to the two people getting off the chopper, a child held in the woman's arms.

"You look like you've been through hell," he said, voice carrying over the flat roof more easily now that the blades have almost whirred to a complete stop. He stood out of his slouch beside the doorway down into the building and walked over, hands in his pockets. "You're the Winterses, right?"

The woman nodded, shell-shocked. The man didn't say a thing, cradling his bandaged hand to his chest.

"I'm Leon S. Kennedy. Why don't we--"

An alarm had started going off.

He sighed. "--get you inside?"

They hadn't talked much more than that, really. He'd gotten them inside like he'd suggested, down into Chris's old room when Leon had sat the man, Ethan, on the couch and had attended to his wounds. He'd looked over Mia, too, and then done a cursory glance of Rose. Thinking back on it, he can't believe how small she was. Mia had been cradling her across one forearm, but now--

After, he'd 'borrowed' a Jeep and taken them to Chris's house. He'd convinced them both to shower and gave them comically overlarge clothes to change into, had watched out of the corner of his eye as Ethan held his daughter much more desperately than Mia had. He'd seen some shit, then, which Leon knows all about now. At the time, though, he'd just been a man than Leon vaguely knew about who'd probably had the worst day of his life for the second time.

"Can I get you a drink?" he'd asked, and Ethan had finally looked at him with haunted eyes.

After a long pause, the sound of Mia's shower upstairs the only noise aside from the kitchen clock, he'd rasped, "Water."

Leon was halfway through pouring him a glass when he'd felt eyes on him and looked up to find Ethan staring. "What?"

Ethan shook his head a little, Rose curled up against his chest and dead to the world. "You're not as bad as everyone says you are."

"Wouldn't go that far," Leon said. "Everyone who? Chris?"

Ethan nodded, said, "He said you're stubborn. Not… touchy-feely."

Leon had laughed quietly, that worth remembering, too, if only because something in Ethan had unwound with it. A human sound in a pedestrian room in a quiet neighborhood-- it's always the little things that bring you back to earth.

"Yeah, well," he'd said, returning to the table to set Ethan's water down. "I'm not the nicest guy in the world but that doesn't mean that I'm a total asshole. I was sitting where you were once. You don't forget that kind of thing."

Ethan nodded, said, "Thank you," and tipped his head down to rest it against Rose's forehead.

[the-gloomth]

Doll Funeral Shop Toronto

Our first retail space has been open 3 whole months now!!! We have had such a great response to the new shop and it’s been so inspiring meeting our online friends in real life and making new friends. I cannot thank everyone enough for their support and encouragement with this! Doll Funeral is Toronto’s hidden alternative clothing shop, tucked away inside a strange mall downtown. It’s super close…

[sydsaint]

Summary: Shenanigans ensue one night at the hotel after the reader comes back to her shared room with Liv after an afternoon with Grayson.

It's well past midnight at the hotel in Toronto. You're sprawled out on a comfy king-sized mattress while glossing through Twitter. You can hear Grayson in the shower on the other side of the rooming talking to himself and it makes you smile to yourself.

Waller exits the bathroom a few minutes later and you glance his way. "You have a nice pep-talk with yourself in there?" You quip with an amused grin.

"Pep-talk?" Grayson scoffs as he towels his hair dry. "Sweetheart. Do I seem to like the type to need a pep talk for anything?" He asks you with a suggestive glint in his eye.

"Maybe not." You giggle.

Grayson tosses his towel toward the open bathroom door before he sits down on the side of the bed opposite you. But it doesn't take long for him to scoot his way over to you with a mischievous grin. "Who are you texting?" He asks you.

"Liv," you reply as your fingers fly across your phone screen. "She's asking where I'm at." You explain.

"Tell her that you're busy having mind-boggling sex with the man of your dreams," Grayson replies.

You laugh and shake your head. "Umm no."

Grayson pouts and scoots down the bed a bit. You watch over the rim of your phone as Waller sets his head in your lap gently. "You're no fun." He pouts.

"Mhm." You hum and thread a hand through his damp hair absentmindedly. "I told her I was with someone at the hotel. But that I'd be back later." You inform him.

"Back later?" Grayson continues to pout in a grouchy tone. "Why? You can stay with me, Y/N. There is plenty of room here for both of us." Waller insists as he gestures to the rest of the bed.

You laugh and force yourself into a sitting position. "I've got an early morning tomorrow, Gray. And we both know if stay that we won't be getting any sleep." You remind him.

"Come on!" Grayson whines. "We can cuddle all night. I promise I can keep my hands to myself."

"Nope. Not tonight, pretty boy." You stay strong despite Grayson giving you those adorable puppy dog eyes of his.

You lift yourself out of bed and begin receiving your discarded clothes from the floor. Grayson remains in bed and watches you collect your stuff. You giggle at his pouty face and walk over to him.

"I'll see you tomorrow for lunch, Gray." You kiss him gently before you head for the door.

"I'll be counting the seconds until you're back!" Grayson jokes as you disappear through the door.

You hop in the elevator and ride it down to your floor. When you slip inside the hotel, Liv is waiting for you with an eager smile.

"Liv. You're still up?" You ask her as the door clicks shut behind you.

"You bet I am," Liv replies. "You think I'd go to bed early and miss the opportunity to pry the name of whoever you've been seeing out of you?" She flashes a sinister smile.

You laugh and set your stuff down on your bed. "I'll never tell." You insist with a grin.

"You don't have to say a word," Liv replies. "I bet I can guess who you were with just by examing you." She boldly claims.

"Is that so?" You snark. "Well then, examine away. Please."

Liv hops to her feet eagerly and approaches you. You laugh at her serious expression as she combs over every inch of you for clues. Liv painstakingly looks you over for any hint of who you've been with. After a few minutes and an intense once-over, she finally steps back.

"Well?" You grin to yourself, confident that Liv won't have an answer.

"Grayson Waller." Liv flashes a knowing grin at you.

You choke on your spit, jaw hanging ajar for a moment. "What? How?" You confront your best friend. "I showered!" You protest. "How in the hell did you know?"

Liv cackles with an evil smile and walks back over to her bed in triumph. "I'm just that good." She insists.

"No. No. Come on. No." You protest and walk over to her. "Spill it, Morgan! How'd you know?" You point an accusing finger at her.

"A magician never reveals her secrets." Liv cackles again, enjoying your disbelief.

You stare down at the blonde with narrowed eyes. "Liv." You try and intimidate her.

"Nope." Liv grins up at you.

"Liv!" You raise your voice.

Liv continues to smile and shows no signs of breaking. So you are forced to resort to drastic measures to coerce an answer out of her. In one fell swoop you grab Liv by the ankle and drag her close to you before you promptly climb on top of her and begin tickling her sides.

"Eep!" Liv squeals. "I'll never tell!" She shouts through fits of laughter as she struggles under you.

"Tell me!" You shout back at her with a laugh. "Tell me your source and it'll stop!"

Laughter fills the room as you and Liv struggle with one another in an impromptu wrestling match. Your laughter is so loud that you don't hear someone knock on the door, then head inside when there is no answer.

"Well. What do we have here?" Grayson steps into the room with your favorite ring boots in hand. You and Liv both freeze and snap your attention to the door. "No. By all means." Grayson teases. "Don't stop on account of me, ladies."

"Grayson!" You slide off of Liv and approach him. "What the hell are you doing here?" You ask him.

Grayson lifts your boots to eye level before handing them to you. "You left these in my room." He explains. "And I figured that you'd freak if you couldn't find them in the morning."

You sheepishly take your boots and toss them next to your luggage on the floor.

"Anywho. Is this strictly a girls-only thing going on here?" Waller gets right back to teasing you and Liv. "Or can anyone get in on the action?" He winks at Liv playfully.

"Sure." Liv laughs.

You turn around sharply and glare at Liv. "No!" You correct her. "Thank you for the boots, Grayson. But Liv and I were just about to turn in for the night."

"Do you two sleep together?" Grayson doesn't falter in his teasing. "Because that's kinda hot." He admits.

"Goodnight, Grayson!" You give him a shove toward the door before Liv can invite him to stay. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?" You kiss his cheek before shoving him through the door.

Grayson grins and waves to Liv. "Night, gorgeous. And goodnight to you too, Liv!" He shouts as he shuts the door.

"Ugh." You run a hand over your face in embarrassment once the door is shut.

"You two make a cute couple." Liv comments. "And since I know that not knowing is going to kill you. Indi told me that you and Grayson are a thing."

"It was Indi?!" You reply.

Liv nods and settles into her bed. "Mhm. Night!" She switches her lamp off with a giggle.

You smile to yourself at Liv's shenanigans and head to bed as well.

[sassyfrassboss]

My turnoff moment for Meghan came a little before Harry happened to her. I had actually watched her interview with Craig Ferguson. And I was completely turned off of her. She was tacky, dressed provocatively, over acting the whole time to the point that i felt it made Craig uncomfortable, and that's saying something. He is phenomenal and for him to have to try hard to get through that segment must have meant something. I was a huge fan of his and had watched his show for years so I knew this was off.

I watched some of the random things she had done over the years - the acl ice bucket thing, the food Network show, her interviews etc and she always looked like she was over acting. So I had dismissed her as a try hard starlet. I honestly thought, when posted those hearts and spooning bananas that she was drumming up PR for herself and that Harry would never be with her.

I knew a little bit about Harry from.some.of the engagements he'd done. He was not as charming in real life while the events we're happening as he came across in videos. And not smart or intelligent or emathetic or even as engaged. So I actually did not like him. But I did know he seemed reserved, a bit introverted when in company (publicly) and did not like a fuss made over him. He was also not the kind who seemed to take charge of situations.

Then the Invictus Toronto happened and saw her there with him. Her white shirt, torn jeans and purposeful walk holding Harry's hand. It seemed to me that she (or they) had arranged it to officially introduce her as his gf. It did not seem as spontaneous and carefree and laid-back as it was made to seem. Because I knew how he was behind the scenes, he wouldn't have taken this big step with her until he was told to. And only she could have told him to do this, his team wouldn't. I looked at his teams faces in videos and pics from then and they all.looked so tense. It was all a bit suss. She was the only one who seemed to be revelling in that attention. That was my red flag.

Then the engagement interview and photo call. She was grinning like an idiot. She was hanging off of him like a tacky cheerleader. And her hair, clothes, shoes were dishelleved. She had mud on her heels. That told me she did not care about how important this occasion was from a BRF POV. I wrote her off that day.

I kept thinking the wedding would be called off. All the drama was like watching a soap opera. Like it was all scripted, so odd.

Stopped following completely.

Then at Eugenie's wedding she wore that coat, stepped out of the car and tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at the camera. I knew! I knew this woman is writing a whole different story in her own head.

Then one day I googled the term "gaslighting" (for personal reasons, I was going through some shit in my own life). And came upon Tumblr. And that same pic of hers from Eug's wedding was on there. That split second mean girl look that I had clocked all those months back. And so I had to read what else Tumblr had to say about her, was a right all those years back when I had dismissed Meghan off as a thirsty starlet?

I am still here. Being validated for my "judgement" about her.

Thank you!

I think I only saw a couple minutes of that interview but she was OTT for sure.

I think what threw me off about the engagement photo call was how sloppy she looked as well. I did think her hair looked nice but otherwise everything was sloppy.

Her dress was too long for her coat and the coat wasn't tailored to fit so it looked big on her. Her shoes were not the same shade as her coat and were dirty. It was just all over the place.

We went from always seeing Catherine immaculate to Meghan looking messy.

It really seems that Eugenie's wedding was a turning point for a lot of people.

You never announce news like that on someone else's day.

[boobo13cambridge]

The Summer We Were Young | Kylian Mbappé

Chapter One. Ridin' in the drop-top with the top down

Summary: Naaz loses her shit and books a one-way flight to Nice. Maybe she should’ve thought this through a bit more?

PSG wins the Ligue 1 title but Kylian can’t seem to muster up the strength to join in the festivities. So, without telling anyone, he leaves for the South. Maybe he should’ve told his mom?

SATURDAY, JUNE 3 2023

Naaz Ahmed

Naaz paced back and forth in her childhood bedroom in Toronto, her mind racing with anger and frustration. She had just had yet another argument with her parents, and this time, she had truly lost her shit. Why couldn’t they just understand that she didn't want to live her life following the same rigid structure as them? After all, she only had this one life and she would be damned if she wasted it by marrying some random man, who ticked all the ‘appropriate’ boxes of an ideal son-in-law created a million years ago by miserable people who had nothing better to do,  followed by popping out some babies and restarting the same mind-numbing, soul-crushing cycle once again. 

Naaz could feel tears welling up in her eyes as these dark thoughts consumed her mind. She felt trapped in this golden cage. While she appreciated all that her parents had done for her but she couldn't help but feel bitter about the fact that they seemed so entitled to her happiness and her future. 

Enough, she thought, I can’t stay here a second longer. One thing about Naaz is that she was the type of person who liked to do things without clearly thinking them through which has often led her into a few spots of trouble. 

This time was no different, the young woman quickly opened her laptop 

Without thinking things through, she had booked a one-way flight to Nice through one of those cheap flight websites. She didn't care about the cost or the fact that she had no plan, she just needed to escape.

As Naaz stared at the confirmation email on her screen, a rush of emotions flooded her mind. She felt a mixture of excitement, fear, and uncertainty that left her feeling both exhilarated and anxious at the same time. The spontaneity of her decision to book a one-way flight to Nice was both liberating and terrifying, as she had no idea what awaited her in this unfamiliar destination.

As Naaz's excitement about her impulsive decision to escape to Nice intensified, she felt a knot of anxiety form in her stomach at the thought of her parents' reaction. She knew all too well how overprotective and traditional they were, and the mere thought of their reaction sent shivers down her spine.

She imagined their faces contorted in anger, and the thought made her heart clench with anxiety and guilt. God, the guilt was the worse. Indian parents had a way of instilling guilt in you from the womb. She would have to brace herself for the storm of emotions that was sure to follow, but she was ready to weather it with the knowledge that, in the end, this would be worth it. Naaz shook her head, taking a deep breath and getting rid of these thoughts.

“You deserve this, girl. No one can change your destiny except. Okay? Okay, We got this.” Giving herself a quick pep talk, she felt a sense of determination to stand firm in her decision. 

She turned her attention back to the task at hand - packing her bags with utmost care and precision so as not to raise any suspicion. As she meticulously folded her clothes and packed her essentials, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within her, knowing that she was taking the first step towards her dreams.

However, the fear of getting caught by her parents loomed over her like a dark cloud. Naaz knew that she had to be careful not to leave any clues behind that would give her secret away. She made sure to pack quietly and efficiently, triple-checking to ensure that she hadn't forgotten anything important.

The sound of the clock ticking away added to her nerves, reminding her that time was running out. She knew that her parents would be asleep by now, and that she had to make her escape before they could catch her. With a final glance around her room, Naaz hefted her bags over her shoulders and made her way to the door, tiptoeing as silently as possible.

As she stepped out into the cool night air, she felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She knew that this was the moment she had been waiting for - the moment when she could finally break free and forge her own path in life. With a deep breath, she called for an Uber and climbed into the car, feeling the wind in her hair and the thrill of adventure in her heart.

As the Uber sped away from her home, Naaz's heart pounded with excitement and apprehension. The driver kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror, probably wondering why she was out so late with such heavy bags. Naaz tried to keep a low profile, avoiding eye contact and staying quiet. 

As the car made its way through the empty streets, Naaz's mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead. She thought of the new people she would meet, the places she would explore, and the experiences she would have. It was like a whole new world was opening up before her, and she was determined to make the most of it.

As the car pulled up to the airport, Naaz took a deep breath and stepped out, feeling a sense of exhilaration wash over her. With bated breath, she stepped out of the car and made her way to the check-in counter. She could feel the eyes of the other passengers on her, and she wondered if they could sense her nervousness.

She stood in line, clutching her passport and boarding pass in her hand, trying to keep her composure. The airport was bustling with activity, with people hurrying to and fro, carrying bags and luggage. Naaz was feeling almost high from excitement and the adrenaline of going to the beautiful French coast.

As she approached the Air France counter, Naaz felt incredibly lucky to have found such last-minute tickets on Air France, and couldn't help but think that perhaps God really was on her side.

The airline attendant greeted her with a smile, and Naaz felt a sense of relief wash over her. She handed over her passport and boarding pass, feeling a sense of pride and excitement as she did so.

The attendant checked her documents and then looked up at her with a smile. "Have a safe and enjoyable flight," she said.

Naaz grinned - she was really doing this, she was really going to fucking Nice! Walking towards the duty-free zone, she browsed through the shelves of snacks.

The flight was scheduled for 6AM, but Naaz didn't care about spending six hours in the airport. She was too excited for what lay ahead. By the time her parents woke up and realized she was gone, she would be long gone, tanning on a sandy beach and sipping delicious virgin margaritas.

Kylian Mbappé

Meanwhile, in Paris, Kylian's mind was clouded with disappointment and frustration, knowing that this season had been a disaster. Despite winning the title, he couldn't help but feel that it was a hollow victory. The team had underperformed throughout the season, with injuries and inconsistent performances plaguing their efforts.

Kylian's heart felt heavy as he looked around at his teammates, who were cheering and hugging each other. He knew that they had worked hard to earn this title, but it still felt like a consolation prize for a season that had fallen short of their expectations.

He couldn't help but wonder what the point of it all was. Was winning the title worth it if it came at the cost of their dignity and reputation? 

Kylian shook his head, he couldn't stay here any longer. He had to leave, he had to escape the hollow feeling inside him. Grabbing his stuff, he walked out of the locker telling everyone he was just going to shower. He found the door that used to lead to the old trash bins but was now mostly used by members of the PSG staff and the players to sneak out for a short break.   

He reached for his phone and dialled his assistant, "Karl, I need my private jet ready in the next hour. I'm heading to the south of France, preferably Nice."

As he spoke, Kylian's voice was low and urgent, betraying the turmoil that raged inside him. He knew that this impromptu escape would be seen as irresponsible and selfish, but he couldn't ignore the yearning in his heart. The pressure and expectation that came with being a football superstar had taken its toll on him, leaving him feeling empty and unfulfilled. He needed a break, a chance to find himself again.

Karl, who had been Kylian's assistant for years, was used to his boss's sudden whims and demands. He quickly replied, "Sure thing, Kylian. I'll have the jet ready for you in an hour. Do you need anything else?"

"No, just make sure everything is in order," Kylian replied before hanging up.

As he walked through the door that led to the staff parking lot, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He was finally doing something for himself, something that wasn't dictated by the expectations of others. They already thought he was a selfish, arrogant prick, might as well act like one now. The warm evening breeze of Paris felt refreshing against his face as he loaded his luggage into the waiting car.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.

"The airport. I have a private jet waiting," Kylian replied, settling into the back seat.

The driver nodded, and the car pulled out onto the busy streets of Paris. As they drove, Kylian's mind wandered, thinking of the unknown adventures that awaited him in the south of France. He felt a sense of anticipation and excitement, but also a lingering sense of guilt for leaving his teammates and coach behind. 

"This is madness. I’ve gone crazy," he muttered to himself.

He wondered if he should have confided in his mother before leaving, but he pushed the thought away, telling himself that he needed this break. 

Kylian closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing mind, the sounds of the city outside the car a distant hum. He needed to relax, to clear his mind and figure out what was bothering him. The pressure of being a football superstar was starting to take its toll on him, and he knew he needed to find a way to recharge. 

"Maybe I'll find some peace in Nice," he murmured to himself, the idea of lounging on a beach and soaking up the Mediterranean sun sounding like heaven. 

The car pulled up to the airport, and Kylian stepped out, ready to leave his worries behind and embrace the unknown.

A/N: Hello, lovelies! Here's chapter one of the summer fic. It's quite short but i just wanted to set the mood about the emotional state of Naaz and Kylian before arriving in Nice. The story pics up next chapter, pinky promise 💞😅

[marner2tavares]

the spins

auston matthews x reader

word count: 0.9k

a/n: possibly this could be a multi-part/series if there’s interest

Living in the same city as your best friend definitely had its perks, especially in a fun city like Toronto. Whenever Auston was in town and had the next day off, or at least without a game, the two of you would pick a bar or two and go out. The night usually ended with too much alcohol and regretful mornings, but at least you did it together. This night was no exception. 

The two of you drunkenly stumbled through the door of his apartment, trying your hardest to be quiet for his neighbors sake. You sat down in the kitchen and unbuckled your heels while Auston grabbed you both a beer. 

You sat on the couch slowly sipping your drink. Auston plopped down next to you and put one arm on the back of the sofa behind you. You turned to face him. He looked over and raised an eyebrow. You smiled and dropped your head a little, waiting for him to turn too. He let out a small laugh and angled his body more towards yours. You looked at each other for a second before you burst out laughing. Auston cracked a big smile and started laughing along. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked through a laugh. You collected yourself and shook your head. 

“Nothing, really.” You tried to wave him off, but he insisted. 

‘No seriously.” You shook your head and waved your hand. 

“I’m just drunk.” Auston continued his stare. You stared back at him and narrowed your eyes playfully. He laughed and shut his eyes before leaning back on the couch. You too shut your eyes and fell back on the couch. Big mistake. You suddenly felt like you were on a merry-go round. You reached your hand out and grabbed the couch, the only thing you could reach, for stability. You screwed your eyes shut hoping that would make it stop. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. You tried to get Auston’s attention but his name just came out as a small groan. You pushed your foot out and kicked his leg. 

“What was that for?” He said, clearly annoyed. When you didn’t answer, he looked over to see you weakly reaching your hand towards him. “You okay?” He asked. 

“Make it stop.” You drew out the “o” in stop like a child. Auston tried to suppress a laugh, but it didn’t work. He walked over, standing over you. 

“I told you not to take that last shot.” He said, fully laughing now. You swatted your hand at him but he caught you by the wrist. 

“You’re so mean.” You said, once again drawing out the vowels. 

“I’m mean? You’re the one that just tried to hit me!” He was still laughing as he dropped your arm. You groaned when it hit your stomach. “If I’m so mean, I’ll just go to bed.” You quickly reached out and caught him by the knee.

“Don’t you dare.” He laughed again. 

“Okay, you’ve had enough. Try to sit up a little.” You reached up as Auston bent down to pick you up. He slipped his arms underneath you, one under your legs, the other under your back, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck. You muttered out a thanks as he started walking towards his room. 

“You’re welcome.” He shifted you slightly so he could open the door, but you fell back into position soon after. He walked over and laid you down on the bed. 

“Do you want water or anything?” He asked as he stood back up. You were still in your dress from the night out that felt like. You gave him a sorry look. 

“I really don’t want to sleep in this dress.” You said sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t know we were coming back here.” Auston nodded.

“Uh, no, it’s fine. Let me find you something.” He went over to his dresser and dug out a t-shirt and some shorts. He walked back over and handed you the clothes. “I’m not really sure the shorts will fit, but the shirt should be fine. 

“Thanks, Auston.” You stood up and reached to unzip your dress, but couldn’t reach. “Auston, could you…?” You pointed to the zipper and he quickly pulled the tab down to where you could reach before turning around. You slipped out of the dress and replaced it with the shirt and the shorts. You had to roll them a few times to get them to stay up. 

“You can turn around now.” Your head was still spinning but at least you were comfortable. 

“Do you need anything else?” He asked. You smiled up at him. 

“Can you stay?” You asked. Auston thought it over for a minute. You were drunk now. He was too, but not as much as you. When the morning came and you were sober, how would you react to him being in bed with you? But as he looked down at your pleading eyes, he caved. 

“Yeah, scoot over.” You did as he asked and he crawled in the bed with you. 

Sleep overtook you quickly while he lied awake, thinking about the night you two had. His thought broke when he felt you roll into him. He looked down at you and almost as if on instinct, opened his arms. You slotted perfectly between them and landed with your cheek on his chest. He looked down at you for a bit longer before letting out a sigh. He didn’t want to come to terms with the scene right now. Having you here, on his chest, in his arms, in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, felt good. Better than he would ever let himself admit. 

[1starqi]

Easy Talking

(Part 1: Chicken Scratch) (Part 2: Call On Silent) (Part 4: Over The Moon) (Part 5: No Messing Up) (Part 6: Can We Talk?) (Part 7: Goldilocks)

genre: fluff, college!au

pairing: student!mark x student!o/c (this one can still be treated as x reader except i made m/c canadian because I can)

summary: you and Mark go on a date

wc: ~800

note: i dont know if mark is allergic to grass but it was funny (coming from someone who is allergic to grass) also this features haechan you can expect to see more of him too. also euna isn't real i just like the name, most of your friends are just gonna be names i like.

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

“Where are you?” You query. He told you that he’d meet you at Banpo Hangang Park at 14:00, but it’s 14:20 and you're having trouble finding him. Banpo Hangang Park is situated along the Han River. It's a popular destination for first dates, yours included. It's the perfect weather with a temperature of 74 degrees and just the right amount of sunshine. You spent nearly two hours with Eunchae, carefully selecting the perfect outfit for the occasion. Little did you know, he devoted even more time to choosing his own clothes. You adjust the straps of your Savoy blue striped romper.

“I’m right by the big fountain near the water. I see you, you’re wearing a blue baseball cap, right?”

“Yeah—oh! I see you!” As you press the red hang-up button, you accelerate toward him. 

Two things immediately catch your eye about him. 

The first is that he's wearing your hat. It's not your hat, but it's an identical blue and has the same white stripe around the ventilation holes. How does he have that? The summer of your senior year, you purchased the hat from a pop-up shop during your trip to Toronto. The chances of him owning the same hat from the same pop-up shop are next to none.

The second thing is the beautiful bouquet of white, pink, and red tulips delicately arranged in its cellophane wrap, which is casually slung in his left arm. Your cheeks are beginning to warm and match the vibrancy of the flowers.

“Where’d you get the hat?” You amicably smile at him.

“I bought it near where I grew up—yo, wait. You have the same one?” He’s beaming now, he looks both equally stunned and charmed by your shared fashion. 

“Yeah! I got it on a trip before I left for college. You grew up in Toronto?” You ask him, wishing for more information. “I grew up in Edmonton.” You add.

“I never knew that! What’s your English name?” He's asking all the right questions that make the conversation flow easy. “These are for you, by the way.” He eagerly holds the flowers. His face mirrors his anticipation of your reaction.

You saw them already, but you’re still speechless. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! That's so nice of you.” You quickly react to avoid prolonged staring at the man—even though you'd love to stare at him. You don’t think your words quite capture how struck you are by the gesture. You head to grab the flowers to put them in your tote and your hand brushes against his as you grab them—his hands are warm and it makes you flustered. “My English name is Quinn, by the way.” You mimic the final addition to his speech and it makes him laugh a little. “What’s your Korean name?”

“It’s Lee Minhyung.” When he smiles he looks like a cat. “Do you want to find a place to sit on the grass?” He subtly motions to the grassy section of the park, away from the tiled fountain. “I brought a blanket, don’t worry. I’m allergic to grass.” His comment makes you laugh a little. You appreciate his preparedness. The both of you traipse around to the lawn flanked by long, thin trees, still in the process of growing their summer leaves.

“Why’d you get coffee that late?” You strike up more conversation, and you’re excited to listen to anything he has to say.

“Oh, don’t remind me." He groans. "I had a dance project that I had to finish and needed a little extra fuel to get it due on time.” While making conversation, the two of you lay out the navy blue plaid blanket. It's very classic picnic-y.

“What was the dance project, if you don’t mind me asking?” You prod further.

“I was helping choreograph a piece for my dance team. You know Haechan, right? He’s on it. You should come to see us perform sometime.” You knew your best friend's, Euna's, boyfriend was on the dance team, but you didn’t know Mark was on it. Plus, he invites you to see him perform. The implications of this are obvious to you, he wants to see you again—despite the fact you just got here. This tells you maybe this could be more than temporary. Could it be? “Are you alright?” He says with regard, he noticed you gazing off into the river. 

“Yes, sorry. I was just thinking about what you said.” What you said is true, but probably not in the way he thinks. 

“No worries—just wanted to make sure you were okay.” It might have been the relaxed atmosphere (with the birds chirping and water lapping and all) or maybe it was the guy next to you (cute and kind), but the embarrassing situation didn't seem so embarrassing at all.

You eagerly dive into another conversation, “Anyway, what’s your major?”

[corner-stories]

ghost town + jeankasa please???

September Prompts 🌻

22. ghost town modern au kinda? also this is set in Toronto bc why not? Ontario deserves representation, too. (ao3.)

As she drives she keeps her phone in the cupholder — the bright red notification blaring on the screen, capital letters repeating the same message over and over until it's the only thing she can think about.

Her foot is firm on the pedal as she drives through what was once a vibrant city, now rendered into a ghost town. For once traffic in Toronto is sparse, but not for the reasons she would like it to be. She goes faster once she's on the 403, soon speeding across a highway that she's not used to seeing so empty. Static plays from the radio, a noise that grates against her ears yet she tolerates in the hopes of hearing another update.

Nothing changes by the time she arrives at Oakville. Undeterred, Mikasa parks the car on the street, steps out, and rushes straight into her apartment complex.

As she goes she gets a brief glimpse of the others on her street, a place that had grown so familiar to her over the years is now rendered uncanny in the absence of residents. Far off she swears she can see other people leaving their homes, bags slung over their shoulders as they hop into vehicles. She can already imagine a look of discomfort on their faces, anything to mask the terror of a scenario filled with so many unknowns.

What's happening? Why is it happening? How did it lead to this?

Those same questions run through Mikasa's head as she enters her building and dashes up the stairs. She gets to her apartment and knocks on the door hard enough for her knuckles to hurt.

"Jean?!"

Barely a second passes before she grabs her key and opens the door. Her apartment is quiet, an abode characterized by laminated wood and beige carpeting, but made more lively through the presence of plants and paintings, the smaller kinds that collect in the corners or on sections of the walls. She ignores it all as she heads to the bedroom.

She opens the door and a sigh of relief escapes her once she sees him there.

As to be expected Jean is asleep in their shared bed, tangled in the sheets and breathing slowly. He's a night owl by nature and under normal circumstances Mikasa would let him rest, but the fear rushing through her veins knows that it can't be. She steps over and kneels at his side of the mattress, shaking him awake with a sense of urgency.

"Jean? Jean!"

His eyes open abruptly and he takes a moment to blink before focusing on her.

"Mikasa? What's— oh."

She doesn't waste time — she tugs him by his shirt and pulls her close to him, holding him in the kind of hug where her head very perfectly fits against his shoulder. If not for his sake than for her own, and for the fact that all she needed to know was whether he was alive.

Jean hugs her back, though his gesture is more awkward and stilted. When they pull away the first thing Mikasa sees is the look of confusion in his eyes.

"What's going on?" he asks, obviously concerned.

Mikasa stands up. "You were really knocked out, weren't you? Check your phone."

As Jean reaches for the device on his night stand she goes to the dresser and cobbles together a quick outfit. She tosses the clothes on the bed and sees him eyeing his phone screen, a sense of terror slowly overcoming him as the details become clear. She's not sure which word in particular causes his skin to crawl — outbreak, evacuation, epidemic — but at least now he knows why she had returned home so quickly.

"How did I fucking sleep through this?" Jean says, running a hand through his messy hair.

"You tell me," Mikasa replies. "But we have to get to Brampton."

She leaves the bedroom and returns to the living room, where she goes to a closet and finds a backpack. As she rummages around the apartment for essentials to bring along — medication, identification, her late father's old wristwatch — she realizes that the fear that had permeated her on the drive from downtown is not completely gone. She tries to hold the feeling down as she slips an extra phone charger into her bag — she can't let it bother her, not here and not now. If not for herself, then for Jean — she can't lose him too.

[bunting27]

can i request 'you look good with my hands around your throat' from the suggestive prompt list for Bunts?

photoshoot ✏︎ m. bunting

bunting27's 100 follower celly !

a/n: i got slightly carried away w the plot for this one

prompts: “you look good with my hands around your throat"

wc: 1.1k

taglist: @nylwnder @kenanlotus0 @sidcrosbyspuck

✏︎

michael had been her best friend since they were in high school, that’s why the first (second, actually) thing she did when she found proof she’d been cheated on was show up at his doorstep layered in clothes she’d taken from him throughout the years, accompanied with a bag full of ben and jerry’s pints.

“i don’t even know why i stayed with him, it’s not like he was beneficial at all” she mumbled, curled up under michael’s arm with a spoonful of ice cream ready to eat as soon as she was done talking.

michael chuckled at that, taking his own mouthful and hitting play on his tv before responding to her.

“fuck is that supposed to mean” he asked with his mouth half full, eyes wide and curious.

“i don’t think i’ve had a satisfying orgasm thanks to anyone but myself sicne, like.. you, actually. when you came back to toronto and we got wasted” michael grimaced, thinking back on the night and how long it had been since then. 

she’d been dating the guy for over a year and not one good time? 

“that’s pathetic. i don’t think i’ve left a girl hanging like that since high school” she hummed in agreement, and then a small smirk took over her lips as she swallowed her last bite of ice cream and looked at him.

her eyes had a glint of mischief, the same kind that he saw the first time they’d met, the same kind as when she’d managed to help their friend group sneak captain morgan’s into their prom, and the same one she had when they got drunk and fucked each other.

“oh, god. i know that look. it’s like your own twisted version of a light bulb” she giggled at that, pausing the movie and moving their containers of ice cream to the side.

“how about we take some pictures to piss him off a little” michael raised an eyebrow, considering it, but he knew that wasn’t feasible now with his job and how public his life could be sometimes.

“not anything that would have you trending, relax. your face won’t be in it, just your hands” he sighed and rolled his eyes, making her squeal and smile, knowing that he was going to agree. when he confirmed that for her, she hugged onto him tightly, thanking him excitedly as he chuckled.

“if i get in shit for this i’m kicking you off my doordash account and all of my streaming shit, mark my words” she gasped sarcastically 

“you woudlnt” he smiled, shaking his head at her and leaning her onto her back with her head over the side of his couch.

“where’d you want me, vengeance,” she rolled her eyes at the nickname, taking off the hoodie she’d taken from michael and adjusting her sweatpants so her panties could be seen on her hips. his eyebrows went up.

“you wore a matching set to come watch movies with me?” she scoffed, pulling her hair out from behind her shoulders and adjusting her front layers.

“no, i wore a matching set to go get fucked in a bar. but i thought ice cream might treat me better than shots when i wake up tomorrow” he hummed, moving so he was hovered over her thighs and facing her.

she grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, and he took it upon himself to hook his thumbs under her panties. she took a couple photos, then moved him up to her waist. he squeezed, giggling as she took more photos. 

this hadn’t been the first time he helped her with pissing off an ex, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. he got to spend time with her, she was single again and she was half naked in his living room? a win for everybody 

“you wanna take my bra off? we can leave it on” he shrugged, keeping one hand on her waist and configuring the other one so he could unclasp her bra, since this one had been a front clasp.

he waited until she adjusted her phone camera before snapping the magnets apart and letting the bra fall. he kept an eye on her phone to make sure it captured him brushing off the straps from her shoulders and her back arching to let him pull it out from under her.

she took his hands again, placing them on her chest and he squeezed, then she moved him again, this time to her neck. he gulped slightly, watching as she let her lips part and made it look like she had been moaning for him.

“let me get in the next one” he mumbled, staring down at her with his hands still squeezed around her neck gently.

she furrowed her eyebrows “you sure?”

he licked his lips, nodding slightly. he could have grabbed her chest a thousand more times and it wouldn’t have affected him as much as this did. he didn’t understand, and honestly he didn’t want to, but this was hot in ways he couldn’t describe. 

she hummed contently and moved his hands from her, telling him to sit back and then seating herself on his thigh, facing the same direction as he was. she nodded so he would bring his hand back to her throat and then looked up at him, letting an innocent look take over her face as they stared at each other for the picture.

she then casually moved herself off him and pulled his hoodie back on, smiling and kissing him on the cheek.

“thanks, mikey. i owe you one. wanna see them?” he ruffled her hair and nodded, trying to pretend like he wasn’t unreasonably worked up from their little shoot.

she leaned her head on his shoulder and started scrolling though the pictures, selecting which ones would be sent to her ex and which ones she would delete.

when she got to the ones with his hands on her throat, she heard his breath hitch and she smirked to herself.

“maybe we keep this one for just us two?” she mumbled, pushing her nose into his jaw and moving his attention to the one she’d taken with his face in it.

he nodded, watching as she sent it to him and then sent off the rest of her favourites to the other guy. he’d never liked him, he never really liked any of them, actually. it was selfish and shitty of him to say, but this was his favourite part of each of her relationships - the end.

when his phone buzzed, he pulled it out to look at the image again and he sighed.

“fuck, you look good with my hands around your throat” she smiled up at him, moving back towards his lap.

“maybe i will get fucked tonight, just not in a bar”