stayonmars

[stayonmars]

DE PUTAAAAAAAA I AM SCREAMING THIS GOT ME SO WORKED UP AND LIKE STRESSED LIKE ITS A REAL TV SHOW I LOVE SIDNEY CROSBY TOO MUCH

it ain’t me babe | s. crosby

“Go melt back in the night, babe

Everything inside me is stone”

warnings: none.

summary: the aftermath of a wedding has you left wondering where your relationship with sidney is going.

request: We need Sid and younger girlfriend attending a wedding 👀 here realizing that maybe Sid should see other people angsty slow burn fluff smut maybe?

word count: 5.6k

song: it ain’t me - joan baez 

a/n: i hope you guys like this one! Im pretty proud of it. ALSO WHAT IS A TAGLIST?? I WANT TO DO IT BUT IDK WHAT IT IS I PROMISE IM NOT INTENTIONALLY OVERLOOKING IT I JUST DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT IS!! SOMEBODY PLS LMK.

previous part | part two

—

The apartment falls quiet. Too quiet.

You go through the motions of getting ready for bed on autopilot.

Hair undone, makeup wiped away, heels abandoned somewhere in the living room a problem for tomorrow.

You exhale slowly as you sit on the edge of your bed, rubbing your hands over your face. The weight of the night presses against your shoulders, heavy and unrelenting.

Now you’re in pajamas—one of Sidney’s t-shirts and a pair of fuzzy pants that you had grabbed blindly from your drawer. The shirt is soft, worn down from years of washes, and smells just like him.

It makes your chest ache.

You should be exhausted. It’s late. Your body is tired, but your mind won’t shut up.

You shuffle around your apartment, turning off the lights one by one, until the only one left is the glow from your bedroom lamp.

And then, just before you head to bed, you do something completely fucking stupid.

You pull back the curtain and peek through your window.

Sidney’s gone.

You don’t know what you were expecting.

Of course he left.

You don’t know how long he sat out there, parked in the same usual spot, engine idling. But now there’s nothing. Just an empty space where his car had been.

Why would he still be out there? You gave him nothing to work with. No explanation. No indication of what the hell went wrong tonight.

Just shut down completely, locked yourself up tight, and now you’re surprised that he left?

It shouldn’t make you feel as lonely as it does.

But it does.

You let the curtain fall shut, swallowing the lump in your throat as you climb into bed.

Your sheets are cold when you slip beneath them, sending a shiver down your spine. It makes you curl up tighter, instinctively seeking the warmth of him.

Sidney’s pillow is right there.

It smells like him.

Like his cologne, his shampoo—like home.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to shut out the ache that spreads through your chest.

Your phone is on your nightstand.

You curl into yourself further, phone in your hand, thumb hovering over the screen.

There’s nothing from Sidney.

Of course there isn’t. 

You open your messages anyway, staring at the empty text box.

You don’t know what to say.

You don’t even know if you should say anything.

You type something out. Delete it. Type it again.

I love you. I’m sorry.

Backspace.

I miss you. I’m sorry.

Backspace.

Goodnight. I’m sorry.

Backspace.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but no words come out. So you toss your phone onto the mattress.

You really did want to go home with him tonight.

You did.

But no matter how badly you want to be in his bed right now, tangled up in his sheets, wrapped up in his warmth—you just couldn’t bring yourself to go home with him tonight.

Not when it didn’t feel right.

Something in you just—couldn’t.

Not when the night had left you feeling so fucking out of place. Like you had no right to be in his life.

So instead, you’re here. Alone. Holding onto his pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you together.

And then it happens. A knock that barely registers at first.

Your eyes are closed, you’ve been hovering in that in-between space—half asleep, half awake, mind slipping into unconsciousness when the sound filters through the quiet. You don’t move. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe it’s something outside.

And again.

A slow, deliberate knock.

Your stomach twists because you already know who it is.

For a second, you think about just staying in bed, pulling the covers over your head, pretending you didn’t hear it. It’s late. Whatever he has to say can wait until morning.

But you know Sidney.

And Sidney doesn’t just go when something doesn’t sit right with him.

You sigh, pushing yourself upright. The hardwood is cool against your bare feet as you shuffle to the door, barely awake, heart pounding. You don’t bother checking the peephole. There’s no point.

You hesitate for a second, fingers hovering over the handle. There’s a moment where you consider taking a breath, preparing yourself, but you don’t give yourself the chance. You pull it open.

Sidney’s standing there.

He looks—frustrated. Tense. His jaw is clenched, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, and his eyes sweep over you, taking in the way you’re dressed in his t-shirt, the sleep still lingering on your face.

His shoulders drop the slightest bit, like he was holding his breath without realizing it.

“Are you gonna let me in?” he asks, voice low.

You step aside without a word, and he walks in, waiting until you close the door before he turns to you.

He lets out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “What’s going on?”

You blink. “What?”

Sid exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “What the fuck is going on with you tonight?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sid scoffs, lips pressing into a tight line. “Seriously?”

You fold your arms, the weight of exhaustion settling into your bones. “It’s late, Sid.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he mutters. “I’ve been driving around the block for almost an hour trying to figure out what the hell just happened.”

You swallow, shifting your weight. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me why the fuck you suddenly decided you didn’t want to come home with me,” he says. “I want to know why you shut down, why you acted like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“I didn’t—” You exhale sharply, running a hand over your face. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

You look away, focusing on the floor, the wall, anywhere but him. You hate that you’re making him feel like this.

Sidney exhales through his nose, his patience thinning. “I don’t get it, okay? I don’t fucking get it. We were fine when we got there. You looked happy. You were joking around with me in the car, messing with the radio, making fun of my suit. And then suddenly—” He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t even know. You spent the whole night by yourself.”

You close your eyes.

“And then you thank me for a ‘great night’ like I’m some fucking Uber driver?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “What the fuck, Y/n?”

You shift your weight, suddenly feeling too exposed, too cornered. “I’m just tired, Sid.”

“Tired?” He lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

You cross your arms. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Sid’s jaw tics. “I want you to talk to me.”

Your throat tightens.

His voice is rough around the edges, threaded with frustration, but it’s not anger. Not really.

It’s concern.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say, hating the way your voice wavers at the end.

Sid’s eyes narrow, like he can hear it too.

He shakes his head. “Bullshit. Jesus, I feel like I’m losing my mind here. You shut down out of nowhere, and now I’m standing here at one in the morning trying to figure out what the hell I did wrong.”

Guilt twists in your stomach.

You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

But now you’re standing here, and he’s looking at you like he’s trying to put together a puzzle that doesn’t make sense, and you have to spell it out for him.

You have to say it out loud.

And the fact that you have to spell it out for him makes you feel like absolute shit. What’s so difficult to understand here? Doesn’t he know?

Your nails dig into your arms as you squeeze them tighter across your chest, pulse thrumming in your ears. You can feel the frustration clawing its way up your throat, hot and bitter, but you don’t know how to say it without it coming out wrong.

Because what’s the point of not telling him at this point?

Why are you still trying to swallow this down like it’s nothing? Like you weren’t sitting at that fucking table alone for half the night, smiling through gritted teeth while women old enough to be your mom compared you to a fucking escort? Like you didn’t have to sit there and pretend it was all fine while your own date couldn’t even be bothered to check in with you?

And now here he is. Confused. Sidney is staring at you, waiting. His hands are in his pockets, but his whole stance is tense, shoulders drawn tight, brow furrowed. Acting like he has no fucking clue why you suddenly wanted to go home. Like he doesn’t realize how humiliating it is to be borderline ignored by him and, in turn, everyone else.

And maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t get it. The way he’s standing there so fucking confused, waiting for you to explain why you feel like absolute shit instead of just knowing.

So you let it out.

You let out a short, sharp breath, shaking your head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Sid’s jaw tightens. “No. I don’t. That’s why I’m here.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in your chest.

“Jesus Christ, Sidney.” You step back, running a hand through your hair. “You’re—You’re Sidney fucking Crosby. The most important guy in the room, in every fucking room you walk into, and I get that, okay? I understand how this shit works by now.”

Sid doesn’t say anything, but his brows pull together, his mouth pressing into a firm line.

“I just wish I could’ve spoken more than a single fucking word to you tonight,” you say, and you don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but you’re tired. You’re tired.

Sidney blinks. “What?”

“I looked like a fucking idiot,” you snap, your voice trembling with something you don’t even want to name. “Sitting at that table alone, smiling at people who barely looked at me, waiting for my own fucking date to talk to me for more than five seconds before he got pulled into another goddamn hockey story.”

His frown deepens. “That’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” you cut in, voice sharp. “Because from where I was sitting, it sure as hell felt like I was there for no other reason than to be ignored.”

Sidney exhales heavily, raking a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you—”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, really? Because it sure as fuck felt like it.”

Sidney’s jaw tightens. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel like that.”

You laugh, humorless. “Yeah, well, what you meant to do doesn’t really mean much when the result is me looking like a fucking idiot.”

Sidney’s eyes flicker with something—frustration, guilt, something else you can’t quite place. “No one thought you looked like an idiot.”

“Oh, no?” you say, and your voice is shaking now, not with tears, but with anger. “Because it sure fucking felt like everyone was in on some big joke I didn’t know about. The hooker comments, the midlife crisis jokes—”

His face hardens. “Who the fuck said that?”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Sidney argues.

“No, it doesn’t,” you bite back. “Because that’s not the point! The point is that I was standing there smiling through my fucking teeth while these women talked to me like I was some kind of novelty, like I was some poor little thing who didn’t belong there, while you were ten feet away, completely oblivious.”

Sidney’s mouth presses into a thin line. “I didn’t know—”

“Exactly!” you cut in. “You didn’t know because you weren’t paying attention. You weren’t there.”

Sidney’s eyes darken. “That’s not fucking fair.”

You scoff. “Isn’t it?”

His hands finally come out of his pockets, and he gestures vaguely, expression tight. “You know how these things are. People pull me into conversations, I don’t always have control over—”

“I do know,” you interrupt. “I know exactly how these things go. I know you get dragged into conversations, I know it’s not intentional, I know all of that. But what you don’t seem to understand is how fucking humiliating it is to be borderline ignored by your own date—to be ignored by everyone else because of it.”

Sidney’s jaw tics. “I wasn’t—”

“You know what’s not fair?” You take a step closer, jabbing a finger toward his chest. “The only actual fucking conversation I had tonight wasn’t even with a guest—God forbid—no, it was with the fucking coat boy.”

Sid’s face tightens. “Coat—” He exhales sharply. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

You throw up your hands. “Jesus, Sid, do you hear yourself? It means you barely fucking spoke to me, Sidney! How many godddamn times do I have to spell it out for you?”

Sidney huffs out a breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t—what do you want me to say? That I should’ve been glued to your side all night?”

“No,” you snap. “I wanted you to act like you wanted me there.”

He stares at you, something flickering in his expression, something frustrated but also—guilty.

“And before you say some shit like ‘Why didn’t you just come over to me? Why didn’t you just talk to me?’ Why the fuck should I have to?”

Sidney flinches. Just barely.

You swallow, your breath coming a little too fast. “Why should I have to beg my own date to acknowledge me?” Your voice cracks slightly at the end, but you push forward. “Why the fuck did you even bring me if you didn’t want to talk to me?”

Sidney shakes his head. “That’s not what it was.”

“Then what the fuck was it? Because you invited me, remember?”

Sidney looks at you, and there’s something in his expression—something frustrated, something aching. Like he wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

Your breath is coming out uneven now, chest rising and falling with every word you force out, every ounce of frustration and hurt bubbling over. Sidney is just looking at you, his jaw clenched so tight you think he might crack a tooth, hands flexing open and closed at his sides. And it only pisses you off more because—because say something, for fuck’s sake. Say anything. Defend yourself. Fight with me. Do something.

But he just stares.

And you—god, you can’t. You’re too tired, too drained, too fucking done with feeling like this, feeling like you’re just… there. Like a placeholder, like a pretty little accessory to sit at his side while everyone else in the room actually matters.

So you let it spill out.

“I’m not the one you want, Sid.”

His entire face drops, mouth parting slightly like you just knocked the fucking wind out of him. And maybe you did. Maybe that’s what it takes to make him finally fucking see.

You laugh, but it’s not funny. It’s not even bitter, just… hollow. “I’m not the one you need, either. And that was made pretty fucking clear tonight.”

Sidney shakes his head immediately, taking a step forward, but you step back just as fast, arms tightening around yourself. “That’s not true.”

“But it is,” you say quietly, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “And you would know that if you actually listened to anything anyone said tonight.”

His brows draw together. “What the fuck does that mean?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I couldn’t get a fucking word in with you tonight, Sid. Not one. And you know why? Because I don’t matter in that world.”

Sidney’s expression darkens, and his voice drops lower, more serious. “That’s not fucking true.”

“But it is,” you argue, eyes burning now. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, I’m not even saying it’s something you did on purpose, but it’s just… how it is. I was there, I was at that table, but I might as well have been a fucking ghost. And you—”

Your voice cracks, just a little, and you have to pause, have to force yourself to swallow down the lump in your throat before you can go on.

“You didn’t notice me, Sid. You didn’t talk to me. You didn’t ask me to dance, and maybe it was because you forgot or maybe it was because you didn’t want to, but it doesn’t really matter either way, does it?” You shake your head, breathing out a humorless laugh. “You didn’t even sit down to have dinner with me.”

Sidney closes his eyes for half a second like he’s trying to keep his frustration in check. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you interrupt, voice quieter but no less sharp. “But you did. And that’s why I can’t even talk to you about this.”

Sidney lets out a breath, one hand dragging down his face, and when he looks at you again, his eyes are a little wilder, a little more desperate. “That’s bullshit. You are talking to me about it. Right now.”

You shake your head, exhausted. “Not really.”

His nostrils flare. “You think I don’t want you?”

You press your lips together, looking away.

Sidney steps forward, forcing you to look back at him. “No, seriously—do you actually think that? That I don’t fucking want you?” His voice is rough, raw. “Because that’s fucking insane.”

Your throat is tight, fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt. “Sid—”

“No,” he says, voice sharp. “You don’t get to say shit like that and then just shut down on me. What the fuck are you even saying right now?”

He exhales sharply, dragging both hands through his hair like he’s trying to physically hold himself together. His jaw is tight, his expression pulled with frustration, guilt, something raw and unspoken sitting heavy between the two of you.

And you don’t even know where to go from here.

Is this it? Is this how it fucking ends?

One bad night. One really, really bad night—so bad it’s made you question everything. So bad you’re standing here, your chest tight, your vision blurring, telling the man you love that you don’t think you’re the one he wants. The one he needs.

And it’s not like you don’t know how fucked up that sounds, how unfair it probably is. But it’s how you feel. And god, it just won’t go away.

Sid lets out a rough breath, shaking his head. “I can’t fucking believe this,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, pacing half a step before turning back, his eyes sharp, desperate. “This is really what you think? That I just—what? Forgot about you?”

You blink fast, your throat burning, voice quieter but still raw. “You did forget about me.”

Sid’s mouth presses into a hard line, his nostrils flaring slightly. “That’s not—Fuck, I didn’t forget about you, babe. I was just—”

“Busy?” you cut in, shaking your head. “Yeah, I know, Sid. I know you were busy. You’re always the most important guy in the room, and I get it. But Jesus, Sidney—” Your voice catches, and you take a shaky breath. “I sat there for hours just waiting for you to come back. Just waiting for you to maybe fucking look at me. And you didn’t. I had to sit there and smile while people made the butt of their fucking jokes, and I couldn’t even tell you about it, because you weren’t there. You weren’t even thinking about me.”

Sidney’s face twists, something like regret flashing across his expression. He shakes his head again, stepping forward, voice softer but no less urgent. “Baby, I—”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Baby.

Your fucking weakness. But you push on.

“And maybe it wasn’t a big deal to you,” you press on, voice shaking now. “Maybe it was just one night to you, maybe I’m just making a fucking thing out of nothing, but—” Your breath stutters, and you have to look away, swiping roughly at your eyes. “But it didn’t feel like nothing, Sid.”

Sidney curses under his breath, the sound almost pained. “Jesus, baby,” he murmurs, stepping closer, reaching for you.

You shake your head, stepping back. “Don’t.”

Sid stops in his tracks, something breaking in his expression, like that physically hurt him.

Your stomach twists, and you swallow against the lump in your throat. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do with this, Sidney. I don’t know what this means.”

Sidney exhales slowly, his voice thick. “It means we fucking talk about it.”

Your throat tightens, something sharp and exhausted threading through you. “Do we? Because I’ve been trying to talk to you about it for the past thirty minutes and you still don’t seem to understand.”

Sid’s brows furrow, his face still tense, but his voice softer now, more pleading. “Babe—”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can sit in rooms full of people who look at me like I don’t fucking belong there. Who talk about me like I’m some kind of joke.” Your eyes are burning again, and you blink rapidly, shaking your head. “And I don’t know if I can do this when it feels like you don’t even fucking care.”

Sid looks wrecked. Absolutely fucking wrecked. His throat bobs, his hands tightening into fists before he forces them to relax. “Y/n, I’m—” His voice catches, and he exhales hard, taking another step toward you. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking away.

“No, look at me,” Sid says, his voice rough. “Please, baby, look at me.”

You hesitate, then finally meet his eyes.

And god, he just looks so fucking sorry.

“Y/n,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Your throat clenches, your chest so fucking tight it hurts.

Sid hesitates, like he’s giving you a second to pull away—to run, if that’s what you really want. But you don’t move. You can’t.

And then, slowly, so fucking slowly, he reaches for you.

“Come here,” he breathes, soft and pleading. “Please, baby. Just—just come here.”

And God help you, you do.

You don’t even think. You just go, letting him pull you in, letting him wrap his arms around you tight, like he’s terrified you’ll slip right through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on hard enough.

And fuck, it almost hurts how tightly he’s holding you, his grip firm and desperate, like an apology all on its own.

You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in his chest, and Sid lets out a shaky breath, pressing his face into your hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw, breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your throat clenches, and you swallow hard, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.

Sidney exhales hard, arms tightening around you. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he murmurs, voice thick. “God, I didn’t—fuck—I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t important, I swear.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice breaking on the last word. “I love you so fucking much, and I—I don’t know how the fuck I let this happen.”

Your chest tightens painfully, and you shake your head against him.

Sidney swallows hard, arms flexing around you. “You’re the most important fucking thing in the world to me,” he breathes, voice rough and aching. “And it’s not okay that you felt like that tonight. It’s not. I should’ve—I should’ve fucking been there.”

Your breath shudders out of you, and Sid lets out something close to a quiet curse, shifting slightly so that he’s cradling you now, one hand sliding up to the back of your head.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, like he’s trying to will it into you, like he’s trying to make you feel it. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You nuzzle into his shoulder, breathing him in, letting your fingers play at the soft hair at the nape of his neck, twisting the strands between your fingertips, memorizing the way they feel. Just in case. Like if you just press yourself deep enough into him, maybe—maybe—it won’t hurt so much when this all slips through your fingers.

Because if this is the last time—if this is the last time you ever get to hold him, touch him, love him—then you want to make sure you remember everything. Just in case this is it. Just in case you lose him tonight. Just in case you don’t get to love him tomorrow.

Sid breathes out hard, his grip tightening on you like he can feel the way you’re preparing yourself to lose him. And maybe he can. Maybe he can feel the way you press your face into the crook of his neck, like you’re trying to keep him there just a second longer. Like you don’t want to let go.

"Baby," he breathes against your temple, his lips brushing your skin. "Don't do that. Don’t—don’t pull away from me like that."

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself not to break, not to let the sadness welling in your chest swallow you whole. "I’m not," you whisper. But you are. You know you are. And of course he noticed.

Sid exhales hard, his hands smoothing up and down your back, grounding you. "Yeah, you are," he murmurs. "I can feel it. I know you."

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, hands firm on your lower back, like he’s keeping you right there. “Don’t—don’t hold onto me like you’re saying goodbye.” His throat bobs. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t do that.”

You drop your gaze to his chest, fingers still playing at his hairline. “I don’t know what else to do.” Your voice is small, raw.

Sid groans softly, tilting his forehead against yours, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. “You stay,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You stay right here. With me.”

Your breath stutters, and for the first time, you let yourself look at him. Really look at him. His eyes are red-rimmed, tired, his expression so full of regret it hurts to see.

Then finally, Sid sighs, long and slow. "You're right. I fucked up,” he admits, voice rough, thick with something heavy. “I disrespected you. I got caught up in everything.”

Your fingers still in his hair.

Sid sighs, his other hand rubbing slow, absentminded circles against the small of your back. “I let myself get pulled into conversation, into all the bullshit, I forgot what was really important tonight. And I’ll never be able to apologize enough for that.”

You blink up at him, studying the way his brows are drawn, the way his mouth is set in a hard, miserable line.

Sid shakes his head at himself, eyes flickering over your face, guilt written in every line of his own. “I’m an idiot,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “There’s a million fucking things I should’ve done differently tonight.”

Your throat tightens, and you nod because—yeah. There are.

Sid exhales sharply, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly under your eye. “But I’m not losing you over this,” he murmurs, voice low, firm. “I won’t.”

You swallow, your fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. “Sid—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna lose you over this.” His voice is quiet but firm, like an unshakable promise. “I won’t accept it. One bad night isn’t gonna ruin what we have.” His hands drop to your waist again, holding you steady, grounding you. “It’s too special.You’re too fucking special.”

Your chest aches, your fingers flexing against his shirt. And you believe him. You do.

Because this is Sid. Your Sid. The man who worships the ground you walk on, who loves you fiercely, who cares.

So you just look at him for a moment, drinking him in—the hazel hue of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most important fucking thing in the world.

Sid brushes his nose against yours, his voice softer now. “I love you too fucking much to let this be the thing that breaks us.”

And for the first time all night, you feel something loosen in your chest.

He studies you for a moment, eyes flickering over your face like he’s trying to gauge where your head is at. Then, more quietly, “You do know that, right?”

And yeah. Yeah, you do.

You nod slowly, and Sid lets out a breath, relief flickering across his features.

“I know you’re upset with me,” he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You should be. I’d be fucking pissed if I were you.” He gives a half-smile, but it’s small, cautious, like he’s afraid to push too soon.

Your lips twitch, just barely, and that’s all he needs.

He exhales, leaning in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I mean it, baby,” he says against your skin. “I love you. And I hate that I made you feel like anything less than the most important fucking person in that room tonight.”

You sigh, leaning into him again, and this time, it feels different.

Softer. More you and him.

Sid watches you carefully, eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “Come back to me, my love,” he murmurs. “Please.”

You press your lips together, exhaling slowly.

And then, quietly, “I’m right here.”

And just like that, his shoulders sag with relief. You exhale slowly, your breath still finding its rhythm, but the ache in your chest has softened. Sid’s eyes stay on you, unwavering, searching, like he’s waiting for you to say something—anything.

And you believe him. You do. Because even though tonight fucking sucked, even though you spent hours feeling like you didn’t belong, even though you had to sit with the humiliation of being overlooked by everyone, including the one person who should have seen you—you love him. You love him, and you know he loves you too.

What you have is special. It’s everything. 

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like he might slip away if you don’t. But he’s not going anywhere. You can feel it in the way he holds you, the way his hands splay across your back, like he’s trying to mold you against him, like he’s making sure you’re real.

Sid exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. His fingers trace lazy circles at the base of your spine, grounding you. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me in.”

Your throat tightens, the lump still there, even though the sharp edges of your anger have dulled. “I hate feeling like this,” you admit, your voice quiet.

Sid’s hands tighten around you. “I know,” he says softly, and the way he says it—like he really knows, like he gets it—makes you feel even closer to tears.

“I don’t—” You break off, shaking your head against him. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

Sid sighs, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Then don’t,” he murmurs, voice softer, lighter now. “Just love me.”

You let out a watery laugh, and he feels it, his arms tightening as he presses his forehead to yours. “Baby,” he says again, so fucking tender, like he’s pouring every ounce of love he has for you into that single word.

Then, after a moment, his voice comes quiet, hesitant. Hopeful.

“We’re okay, right?”

It’s so soft. So careful. Like he’s afraid of the answer. Like maybe, just maybe, he’s still a little scared you might walk away.

You let out a slow breath, thinking. Feeling.

“I think so,” you whisper.

Sid exhales sharply, a little relieved sound, and he nudges his nose against yours, affectionate, familiar. His fingers tighten briefly against your back before his hands smooth over you, slow and steady.

“Good,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against your temple. “’Cause I don’t think I could fucking take it if we weren’t.”

A small, breathy exhale leaves you, and for the first time tonight, it’s almost a laugh. Almost.

Sid hears it, feels the way your body relaxes just the smallest bit, and it’s like he latches onto it, chases after it.

“Jesus, babe,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then another, then another. “I feel like I aged ten fucking years tonight.”

That gets a real laugh out of you—quiet, small, but real.

Sid pulls back slightly, looking at you like he’s trying to memorize you, trying to read every single emotion on your face. His thumb brushes over your cheek, gently.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching just the slightest bit, like he’s trying to smile but doesn’t want to push it too soon.

Your throat tightens at the warmth in his voice, the relief. The way he says my girl like it’s fact.

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the safety of him. His fingers slide up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing gently over the apple of your cheek. “We’re okay,” he says, like he needs you to know it. Like if he says it enough times, you’ll believe it too.

And you do. You do.

You let out a slow, shaky breath, nuzzling into his touch. “I love you,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears it.

Sid lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh, almost a sigh, almost relief. “Fuck,” he breathes, tilting his head just enough to press his lips to yours—not desperate, not rushed, just there. Just a promise. Just an I love you too.

[stayonmars]

Looking at this chunky and having some fun Quinn, I might need to check my pulse 🙃

[stayonmars]

HELLO??!? this is too precious i can’t handle it.

no yeah i would get him pregnant in a heartbeat.

any image of Nico and children forces me into ovulation in a similar way to how the moon turns werewolves (which is insane cause I don't even want kids i just want HIS kids)

He'd be such a good fucking dad it drives me up a WALL but he'd take the entire process of becoming one VERY seriously I think. My man is meticulous, he'd track your cycles better than you do and essentially tell you to clear your entire schedule on your ovulation days cause there's no way in hell you're leaving the house when you could be using that time letting Nico knock you up.

[stayonmars]

He is so cute 😔😔😔

He wasn’t lying when he said his first job was working at a fudge shop lol.

[stayonmars]

I will not shut up about this 😭🫶🏻

intimate silence II • n.s

pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

words: 3.5k - part 2/2 - read part one here

warnings: (general warnings for part 1 and 2) 18+, angsty shiz, (years of unsaid feelings), smut, making out, fem!receiving, male!receiving, p n v, creampie, mentions of drinking, friends to lovers

prompt: After seeing each other for the first time in years, all the old feelings you tried to bury come flooding back. Noah admits he regrets not choosing you, especially when he’d felt the same way all along. Perhaps years of intimate silence weren’t the end… just the prelude to everything you were always meant to be. (This is like* a part 2 of desolate love - same vibes and storyline-ish.)

+

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

"Do you want to come in?"

Noah blinked, surprise momentarily flickering in his eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t full, rather it was lopsided- mirroring his gaze as a sign of uncertainty.

"I... uh," he stammered, taken aback by the invitation.

You gave him an encouraging nod, "It's late, and it's raining. Plus..." you shrugged nonchalantly, the tremble in your voice betraying you, "I have better coffee than the pub?"

"Alright then," Noah agreed softly, unbuckling his seatbelt and following you out into the rain-soaked street.

Both of you hurried towards the entrance of the apartment building, as if afraid to get wet in already soaked clothes.

Unlocking the door to your space, you ushered him through the foyer into a small but cozy living room scattered with remnants of life; photographs, half-read books, and an assortment of handpicked knick-knacks.

He moved around awkwardly, rubbing his nape while looking at one wall almost obsessively. Noah stopped before a collection of pictures pinned to a corkboard, his gaze lingering on an old high school photograph of you two embracing amidst carnival chaos, his arm securely around your waist.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you finally broke the silence, nodding at the room shyly. He simply chuckled in response before turning back toward you.

"No... It's great," he countered, assuring you with a soft smile. "Feels like you."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Wait here," you quickly added before escaping into the kitchen area to make the coffee.

His voice filtered in from the living room as he continued his explorations, "You've been with Erin for so long, yet it doesn't look like he ever lived here."

With your back turned to him, you allowed the small, rueful smile to grace your lips. "I guess I never let him really move in," you admitted quietly, “Plus, got rid of what was left pretty quickly.”

In the following silence, you could almost hear his pondering. You came back out carrying two steaming mugs of coffee and found him still standing by the corkboard. His gaze was gentle as he traced over each photograph, letting the memories associated with them wash over him.

He thanked you for the coffee as he took a sip, approvingly humming at the taste.

“Oh, I’ll grab you something else to wear, so I can put your clothes in the dryer. I think I have a hoodie and some shorts that might fit you.”

"Thanks," he nodded, appreciating the offer. As you disappeared to fetch the clothes, Noah trailed his fingers over the old photo at the carnival one last time before turning his attention to the warm mug in his hands.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear you reenter the room until you set a pile of clothing on the armrest next to him. He blinked, bringing himself back to reality with a sheepish grin.

"I can, um, change in the bathroom?" He asked, already gathering the borrowed clothes up in his arms. Your heart fluttered with an unfamiliar affection at this Noah- careful, considerate, and oh so different than the boy from your high school years.

"Sure," you nodded, pointing him towards the hallway. "Down there, first door on your left."

You went to change yourself, putting on some sweats and a hoodie. Your mind raced with everything that happened, and as you opened your bedroom door you almost ran into Noah coming out of the bathroom.

His appearance startled you, and you found yourself taken aback by how even the act of changing into a simple sweater and shorts could make him look so alluring. He looked different somehow—his dark hair tousled from the rain with drips still trickling down his neck, eyes softer, and a hint of a smile lingering on his lips. The hoodie was a little tight on his broad shoulders, his tattooed arms peeking out from under the slightly short sleeves.

"Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as he stepped aside to let you pass.

"No worries," you responded quickly, smiling at him in return.

He then looked passed you, into the room you came from. “That your bedroom?”

"Yeah," you chuckled lightly.

It seemed strange having Noah here in your apartment, standing in your hallway, looking into your room. You dreamed of things like this for years; that now it felt unreal.

His face softened considerably as his gaze met yours again, a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Can I take a look?” he asked, and you nodded silently.

You watched him walk towards your room with an almost reverent gentleness in his steps. From outside, you observed him taking in all the little details; from the neatly stacked books on your bedside drawer to the comfortable cushions spread across the bed.

"It's...nice." Noah commented after a moment, before his eyes landed on a pile of items beneath your night stand. “Wait…You still have this?”

The brunette bent down, reaching for the plastic case.

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” You laughed quietly, walking up to him slowly to admire the memory.

Noah glanced at you quickly, chewing the inside of his cheek as he opened up the CD case, trailing his fingers over the dust and years of scratches, “Looks like you havent played it in a while.”

All you could do was shrug at his comment, tugging at the sleeve of your sweater nervously.

"Slow Dance Surprise" he read the words on top of the disc aloud, a soft smile spreading across his features. "I remember making this for you the summer we left our first year of high school."

Comparatively, you smiled softly at the memory. "Every teenage girl's dream," you bantered lightly, "A mixtape from her long-time friend."

"Crush," Noah corrected with a playful bump to your shoulder.

“Crush," you echoed, admiring the light blush that was creeping onto his cheeks.

Taking the CD out he placed it in the old player on your night stand, pressing play. The fact it even turned on surprised you.

An old track began to play- the familiar tune of a song that had once echoed through your room on hundreds of school nights.

Now, it stretched across the room, relishing in the nostalgia of you and Noah together, once again.

"Would you...like to dance?" He asked, placing the case gently on your nighstand and extending a hand towards you. His movements were gentle; his gaze never leaving your face, silently pleading for you to take his lead.

A mischievous smile quirked at your lips as you reached out to take his hand. "To your high school playlist? You sure about that?"

His arm snaked around your waist, drawing you towards him with an ease that only familiarity could bring. His hand felt warm against your back as you slowly swayed together in rhythm with the old track, a peaceful comfort wrapping around you both.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Long shadows danced on the walls as your bodies moved through the dimly lit room.

His lips were tantalizingly close, brushing ever so slightly against yours during the quieter moments of the melody. Your heart pounded against your ribcage in an echo of your growing anticipation that became more and more difficult to suppress as moments slipped into minutes.

His voice was soft when he whispered into your ear, "This feels right."

And to be honest, it did.

It felt like a puzzle piece finding its rightful spot after being misplaced for years.

The song changed then, the bittersweet nostalgia of the first melody replaced by a throbbing rhythm that was just as familiar.

"Remember this one?" Noah muttered against your forehead, his hot breath sending chills down your spine.

You smiled, recalling the endless nights you spent dissecting the lyrics- wondering if he had put this on the CD to tell you something.

"You always insisted this song meant nothing," you chuckled, recalling your teenage self's futile attempts to understand his intentions. "Just liked the beat," you mimicked his past self, lifting an eyebrow playfully.

He laughed; a sound so genuine it warmed you from the inside out.

"I lied," he admitted, tightening his grip around your waist.

“Glad to know I wasn’t crazy.”

"You weren't, I promise," he said softly, his forehead resting against yours. Suddenly, his thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away an errant tear you hadn't noticed had escaped. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"Yes," you whispered. You let go of a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and wrapped your arms more tightly around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Good," he murmured into the soft silence of the room, his scent filling your senses and making your heart flutter.

You closed your eyes then, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation of being so close to him, after all this time. It felt weird, chaotic, and messy; all while entangling your heart into a beat of amenity.

Until he put his lips on yours again.

You melted into his kiss, surrendering your senses entirely to him; allowing the mix of feelings dance off your tongue and onto his.

His fingers combed through your damp hair, deepening your shared rhythm as if each drawn breath was woven together between years of intimate silence.

It wasn’t long before he slowly pushed you back against the wall, both of your hands beginning to test the boundaries.

Noah’s fingers gripped your waist as his hips pressed against you, his teeth grazing on your lips hungrily.

An ever-growing need filled your throat as you reached up to rake your fingers through his dark locks.

"Tell me this is happening," Noah murmured against your lips as he tried to catch his breath, trailing kisses along the line of your jaw down to your neck. His words tickled your skin, a searing imprint of his vulnerability that made you swallow back a whimper.

"It is," You reassured him with sincerity laced in your voice.

“Tell me you want this to happen.” He whispered as his fingers teased the bottom of your hoodie, nails gently dragging across the skin of your stomach and tugging the fabric upward, slowly.

“I do,” You nodded as you kissed him.

There was a series of soft kisses before Noah's lips found yours again, a tender caress that left you breathless. His fingers inched higher, the cool touch of his skin against your bare waist, enigmatic.

Suddenly, he faltered, his kisses slowing as realization dawned on him. "Are you sure?" He breathed, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"Yes," You whispered ensuring him once again, touching his stubbled cheek lightly with a trembling hand, "I've never been more certain."

He then sighed into the kiss, as if all the apprehension of the last several years was being released in that single breath. Pressed so closely against him, you could feel his heart's erratic rhythm under your fingertips. His grip on your waist tightened as he drew you deeper into the kiss, pulling you towards your bed.

"I need you," he barely muttered against your skin as your sweater was thrown to the floor, then his.

His desperation echoed through every strained word, every heavy breath.

“I need you too, Noah. I’ve always needed you.”

He crawled over you, laying on his back as he pulled you on top of him. Straddling his waist, you leaned down to kiss him hungrily again, placing your hands against his bare chest.

You rolled your hips as his hands guided the motion, until Noah tugged at your waistband, pulling the grey fabric down your hips as his fingers kneaded the skin below.

“I’ve dreamed of seeing you this way for years.” He breathlessly laughed, eyes scanning your body with half lidded eyes, before passing you a slutty grin. As you helped him tug the sweatpants fully off, your face warmed.

Naked under his intense gaze, you pulled him closer to you again, your mouth finding his. His fingers traced lines of fire as they roamed your body, a map he hadn’t discovered before but seemed all too eager to explore now.

His hand then settled between your thighs as you straddled him, rubbing circles against the skin that had him straining hard against the shorts he wore.

Noah's name fell from your lips in a pleading whisper muffled by his mouth moving over yours. His fingers moved delicately inside of you, painfully slow yet agonizingly just what you needed.

"Touch me," Noah murmured into your ear, his voice shaking with desire. It was the boldest he'd been thus far, the echoing ache in his voice mirroring the pooling warmth between your legs. Complying, you nipped down at his lower lip before trailing kisses down his throat, your hand tracing over the muscles of his chest. He groaned under your touch, but it was the sudden need in his gaze that coaxed you further.

His shorts were discarded onto the floor, joining your clothes with an ease that spoke volumes about your shared desperation and longing.

His hands quickly found their way to your waist again, gripping tightly as if he needed to anchor himself to reality.

"God..." Noah moaned against your ear, his voice barely more than a husky whisper. You licked your fingers before trailing them up and down his arousal, coaxing another sound from him.

"Your hands feel so good,” He whispered, rutting into your grasp as you began stroking him up and down in a rhythmic motion. “Turn around.”

“What?” You asked, meeting his half lidded gaze as he rutted his hips into your hand.

“Turn around so I can eat you out.”

His request came unexpected. Your eyes widened slightly at his words before warmth rose to your cheeks. He chuckled at your adorable reaction, brushing away a tendril of hair that had fallen onto your forehead.

"Unless... Unless you don't want to," he added quickly, worry flickering in his brown gaze, “I just really want to taste you.”

You bit your lower lip, mulling over his proposal.

"I-- I do want... that," you stammered, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

Turning around, you backed up till you were inches away from sitting on his face; his own desire right by your mouth. Noah’s breath was warm as it brushed against your core, the soft string of swears that left his mouth making your arousal pool with need.

With inked fingers gripping your hips, he pulled you down onto his mouth- his tongue immediately licking a strip between your folds.

“Oh-” you whispered, subconsciously pressing back into his mouth as he began to suck on the delicate skin.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, earning a groan from you as he sunk a finger into your body.

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled, brows furrowing as you then took his cock into your mouth, attempting to do your best with the angle, and while pleasure rushed through you.

Each lick and suck against you made coherent thought difficult. Noah was undeniably good, his clever tongue managing to find every sensitive spot whilst his fingers explored deeper inside you. His own moans from your hesitant mouth-work vibrated against your core, adding another layer of sensation that had you coming undone.

He groaned at your actions, sending a vibration through you that made you shudder. His hips began to buck upward into your mouth as you swirled your tongue along his tip.

"Fuck," Noah muttered against your inner thigh, pulling away from your core briefly as he began to pant. Pleasure rippled through you in waves, your teeth slightly grazing against him; barely there touches eliciting a soft grunt from him as he pressed his face deeper between your thighs.

“S-stop,” He whispered, “I’m gonna cum if you keep going.”

You hummed, gagging on him once more before pulling off. “Would that be so bad?”

He chuckled lowly as he licked another strip along your arousal, “No. But I want to cum from being inside your pussy the first time- not your mouth.”

His words triggered something deep within you, a surge of longing that clenched your body tight. "I want that too," you admitted breathlessly, the pooled wetness between your thighs acting as testament to your statement.

With a hasty nod, Noah immediately pulled you off him and flipped you over, his eager fingers trailing along your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs.

His length pressed against you in an intimate promise, and he looked at you once more time before pushing inside.

A soft gasp broke the room's heavy silence, but it was unclear whether the sound came from him or you. His head fell down onto your shoulder, hot puffs of air hitting the skin there as he struggled to stay composed.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, chewing on the skin of your collarbone, “You feel so fucking good.”

A low groan vibrated from his throat as he stilled for a moment, allowing you time to adjust to his body, and him yours.

“I need you to show me how much you regretted not making me yours all those years ago.” You said as your fingers raked down his back.

Noah scoffed, meeting your gaze as he began to thrust slowly into your body, picking up pace with each stride. “Then I’m going to need to fuck you hundreds of more times. To make up for it.”

You watched him hang above you, each of Noah’s thrusts making your thighs shake against him.

He placed a thumb against your clit, lightly tracing circles to match his pace as his desire slid between your folds. You stared at him watching where the two of you connected, eyes heavy as he chanted your name with praises.

“Y-your cock is so good,” You cried, clinging to his skin.

"Yeah?" he groaned, gaze flitting from your eyes briefly before back down to your arousal. "Tell me more," he coaxed, a dark chuckle echoing from his throat. His rhythm picked up, relentless thrusts that had your back arching off the mattress, wordless cries tearing from your lips.

"Can't... can't think," you whimpered, fingers digging into the muscles of his back as you fought to keep up with the pace he was setting.

Noah's free hand was suddenly in your hair, tangling in the messy locks as he tugged your head back to expose your throat. His tongue then traced a burning path from your collarbone up to the pulse point at the base of your neck, sinking his teeth into the delicate skin with a soft growl.

"Gonna mark you," he promised between labored breaths as white-hot pleasure rippled through your body. "You're mine now. Until I die."

Another thrust - this one deeper, more deliberate. His breath hitched before letting out another restrained moan, his lips brushing against the mark that began forming on your neck.

"I thought you'd be the best thing I'd ever have and- god, you are." He whispered.

"More, Noah," your voice echoed in the room, raw with need. Your hand found one of his, intertwining your fingers together as he kept pushing into you, his free hand circling your clit faster.

Heavy pants echoed through the room as he shifted slightly to grant you more depth, a change that drew another soft sound from throats tangled in the melody of wanting.

"So good," he murmured raggedly between gasps for breath, “I-I’m close.”

Your abdomen clenched as your own climax grew, threatening for release.

“Cum in me,” You begged, his eyes locking with yours immediately.

“W-what?” The brunette’s brows furrowed with desperation and hunger at your words, despite the uncertainty.

You nodded, biting your lip as you held onto your orgasm for a moment longer, “Please Noah, I need your cum inside of me. Make me yours, as I always have been.”

Your words shattered him.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as his lips crashed into yours, desperate, claiming. “Fuck, I’m coming,” he growled, stroked ragged and deep. “You’re mine.”

That was all it took.

Your body broke apart beneath him, pleasure curling through your spine as you came around him- trembling and gasping his name like a prayer. His moans laced with yours, raw and wrecked, until his final thrust stilled, hands clutching you like he’d drown without the anchor of your skin.

“I love you,” Noah choked out through a cracked voice, his breath trembling.

You kissed him, hard and needy- almost breaking under the weight of the words. Somehow all the years of pain, memories, silence, what-ifs and aching distance, had led here. And suddenly, they felt worth it.

Because in the end… It was always him.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

His hand slid to your cheek, forehead against yours with a thumb tracing your lips, like he still couldn’t believe you were really here.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

“I love you,” you breathed, smiling through the tears you hadn’t realized were there.

And for the first time in forever, you weren’t waiting anymore, and neither was he.

You had him, just as he had you.

tags: (Join/leave my taglist here)

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[stayonmars]

IM GONNA FCKING SCREAM

CHAPTER THREE

“in another life, i know we could ride out, boy”

pairing — auston matthews x vet!reader

summary — after another playoff loss, auston disappears from the spotlight and unexpectedly crosses paths with y/n—someone from a past life who feels both distant and familiar. they only have the summer, two people from different worlds colliding at the wrong time, reigniting something they never saw coming.

word count — 8.4k

warnings — minors dni. sexual themes (future chapters)

an — i am so sorry this took me so long. i was sitting on this chapter for a while i just needed to edit it. enjoy <3

masterlist

the sun sat high above them, warm and bright, casting honeyed light over the sidewalks and awnings of their sleepy corner of the city. it was breezy out, the kind of perfect late spring afternoon that made you forget about anything other than the sound of your sneakers against the pavement and the lazy tug of a leash in your hand. the kind of day that felt like it could last forever if you let it.

y/n had been smiling the whole time. since he called that morning—voice scratchy, still thick with sleep—to ask if she wanted to walk felix with him.

“he gets stubborn if i go without you,” he’d said, and she rolled her eyes at the excuse but grabbed her hoodie anyway.

their days had fallen into an easy rhythm. he started dropping off coffee for her before work, the order always right even when she swore she didn’t have a usual. he teased her about her trashy reality shows and still ended up staying through half the episodes, legs tangled with hers on the couch. she showed up for walks with felix more than he ever asked, claimed it was for the dog, but she caught the way he watched them together—like seeing her with felix was his new favorite thing.

felix trotted happily in front of them now, tongue lolling, tail wagging, completely content as they wandered down a quieter block just a few minutes from her apartment.

auston had kept close. he walked a little closer than usual, his arm brushing hers from time to time, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back whenever they crossed the street. he was comfortable. flirtier than before, sure, but grounded. like a version of himself that only she got to see.

and then—

“auston matthews?”

the voice snapped through the quiet like a stone tossed into still water.

they both slowed at the sound, the easy rhythm of the afternoon cracking beneath the surface. they turned together, and y/n felt the shift the moment she saw the girl approaching.

she was tall, blonde, dressed in a matching set of designer athleisure that looked untouched by actual sweat. the kind of girl who could make a walk through the square feel like a photo shoot. oversized sunglasses pushed into her hair, lip gloss catching the sun like she planned it that way.

“wow, i thought that was you,” the girl laughed, already sliding a hand around auston’s arm like she owned the space. y/n’s chest tightened, something sinking low and unwelcome.

auston’s posture changed just slightly—shoulders stiffening, smile faltering.

“hey, uh… riley, right?”

“wow.” riley stepped back, giving a dramatic gasp. “riley, right?” she repeated, all mock offense, then turned toward y/n with a smile that was too wide, too polished. “i guess that’s fair though. he probably doesn’t remember my name with so many girls showing up at that pool of his.”

y/n blinked, watching the exchange, trying to read his face. the distance between them now felt bigger than it had the whole walk.

auston cleared his throat. “we’ve… run into each other before.”

“run into,” riley teased, winking. “we ran into each other a few times last summer. i’m sure your neighbors still remember.”

y/n’s grip on the leash tightened. felix glanced up at her with a little snort, tail still wagging like nothing had changed.

riley leaned in closer, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her voice dropping like she was sharing some secret. “so… what’s the theme this year? that pool party of yours is always wild. are the usual girls invited, or are you going for something more… lowkey?” her glance flicked sideways at y/n, the meaning clear.

the warmth that had carried y/n through the day drained from her limbs, replaced by something cold and unfamiliar. she could still feel the ghost of auston’s hand on her back, the way he’d smiled at her earlier, and now it felt like it belonged to someone else.

before auston could say anything, y/n gave a polite, practiced smile. “we were just heading out, actually.”

he turned to her, immediate, like he felt the shift too. “y/n—”

“no worries,” riley cut in, waving a perfectly manicured hand. “i’ll dm you. again.”

she walked off without waiting for a response, that same smirk tugging at her lips as she disappeared around the corner.

auston let out a slow breath, dragging his hand down his face like he could erase the whole encounter.

“she’s…” he started, searching for the right words.

“you don’t have to explain,” y/n said, light but distant, eyes on felix instead of him. “i mean, it’s… you.”

he hated how small she sounded saying that. like the bubble they’d built together had popped and she was the only one standing in the aftermath.

“me?”

“yeah.” she gave him a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “i just didn’t really realize… how big of a deal you are. i guess.”

he reached out, brushing his hand against hers, catching her pinky like it would make her stay in this moment with him.

“she’s not part of my life,” he said quietly. “not like you are.”

but she didn’t look at him, not right away. her fingers toyed with the leash, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, almost too soft.

“i’m not much of a part of it either. and it’s not like you… live here or anything.”

he stopped walking, like the words physically caught him off guard.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” she said, with a little shrug, but the distance between them felt like miles now. “just… we’re in different places. that’s all.”

before he could say anything else, felix sneezed and stopped short, the leash tangling around a post. y/n knelt to free it, fussing over the dog like it was the only thing that mattered, like her heart wasn’t twisting up tight inside her chest.

the silence between them stretched too long.

they reached her building just as the streetlights flickered on, the sidewalk bathed in soft amber glow. she unclipped felix’s leash at the steps, fingers brushing through his fur like it grounded her.

auston stayed close, closer than she let him feel. his heart was pounding, too loud in his ears.

“y/n.”

she looked at him then, eyes guarded, like she was bracing for something she didn’t want to hear.

“are you okay?” he asked, voice low, like maybe if he kept it soft enough she wouldn’t pull further away.

because for a little while it had felt like maybe this was real—coffee runs, lazy mornings, kisses that made the world fall away. but then reality caught up. reminded her who he was. reminded her of all the reasons this didn’t make sense.

“yeah,” she said finally. “just a little tired.”

he tried to close the space between them, but as his lips neared hers, she turned her head, slipping away before he could even feel the warmth of her mouth.

“goodnight, auston,” she said gently, eyes lowered, voice soft.

and then she was gone. the door clicked shut behind her, quiet but final.

he stood there, hand half raised, as if he could knock or call her back but knowing he wouldn’t. felix let out a single bark on the other side of the door, like he knew.

auston huffed out a breathless laugh and shook his head.

“goodnight, y/n,” he whispered, to no one at all.

inside, y/n leaned against the door, heart beating fast, lips tingling with the ghost of the kiss that never happened. and felix, blissfully unaware, trotted down the hall, tail wagging like nothing had changed.

it was stupid.it was nothing. but god, why did it feel like everything?

she slipped off her sneakers, running a hand through her hair, and wandered into the living room where naomi was curled up on the couch with a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and reruns of the summer i turned pretty playing in the background.

“you’re back early,” naomi said, glancing over, “he didn’t walk you to your door this time?”

“he did,” y/n mumbled, sinking onto the other side of the couch. “i just… went inside before he could kiss me.”

naomi arched a brow. “you what?”

“i panicked, okay?”

“you’ve literally kissed him before—”

“that was different!” she hissed, reaching for the popcorn. “some girl stopped him on our walk. she clearly knew him. like, biblically. and she asked about some pool party. with models, naomi.”

naomi tilted her head. “okay, and?”

“and i just… i don’t know. i got in my head. i’ve never dated anyone who’s—who’s that.”

naomi looked at her carefully, then picked up her phone. “wait… you still haven’t googled him?”

“i didn’t want to,” y/n muttered, but she leaned over anyway, watching with her chin on her knees as naomi typed in “auston matthews.”

the results loaded fast. articles. headlines. magazine covers. game stats. instagram posts. vacation shots. photos with the team. photos without a shirt. photos with girls. models. actresses. rumors.

there was even a GQ cover. he looked almost unrecognizable. not because he looked bad—no, he looked incredible—but because he looked so far away from the version of him she’d just spent the week laughing with and kissing on her couch.

she stared at one picture of him at a yacht party, a bikini-clad girl pressed to his side like it was second nature.

her stomach twisted.

“okay, don’t spiral,” naomi said, voice gentle. “look, it’s not like he isn’t that guy. but maybe he’s also not just that guy.”

y/n shook her head, pulling a pillow into her chest.

“i don’t know if i can do this, nai. he’s… he’s so much. and i’m just… me. i’m not glamorous. i’ve got cat hair on my scrubs and baby drool on my hoodie. he lives in a world i don’t even recognize. what if this is just some game to him?”

naomi reached over, putting a hand on her arm.

“you know what this sounds like?” she said with a smirk. “a reformed playboy trope.”

“oh my god, stop—”

“no, seriously,” naomi insisted, pulling the popcorn back. “guy leaves behind the noise, comes home, sees the girl he never got over in high school, gets wrecked by her sweet coffee order and the way she rocks a messy bun. it’s classic. you’re the plot of every wattpad book i read at sixteen.”

y/n groaned, shoving her head into the couch cushion.

“i’m being serious,” she mumbled into the fabric.

“i know,” naomi said, a little softer now. “but seriously… the guy’s been following you around like a lost puppy. not just showing up—actually listening. actually seeing you. maybe you should let him.”

y/n lifted her head slightly.

“i don’t know,” she whispered. “i just don’t want to fall into something i can’t keep up with.”

naomi looked at her like she already knew. “y/n,” she said gently. “i think you already have.”

the night spiraled in the way all dangerous nights do: slowly, and with wine.

what started as a simple google search turned into a full-blown internet investigation the moment naomi pulled out the sauvignon blanc from the fridge and handed y/n a glass with a raised brow.

“if we’re gonna stalk,” naomi said, plopping back on the couch and refreshing the search bar, “we’re doing it right.”

y/n didn’t protest.

not when the first glass dulled her panic into a hum. not when naomi found a reddit thread titled “has anyone here slept with auston matthews?? asking for science”

not even when they found out that a lot of girls, apparently, had.

“okay, jesus,” y/n muttered, wine sloshing in her glass as she leaned over the laptop screen. “why is this thread so long? do these girls not have shame?”

“girl,” naomi said, already scrolling through with professional efficiency, “they have receipts.”

she read aloud dramatically.

“‘met him at a party in arizona, wasn’t even trying but the man has gravity. we ended up in his car and let me just say—10/10, would let him ruin my life again.’”

“oh my god—”

“‘he’s sooo hot in person, it’s scary. like, towering and soft-spoken but then will whisper the filthiest things in your ear.’”

“naomi, stop—”

“‘okay so he kissed my neck once and i still think about it in the shower sometimes. don’t judge me.’”

“naomi!”

“i’m sorry!” she cackled, breathless from laughter. “this is gold. internet gold.”

y/n shoved the wine glass onto the coffee table and sat back, face burning.

“okay. okay. i can’t read anymore. this is terrible. why did i let you do this.”

“because you like him,” naomi said, smug.

y/n groaned, letting her head fall against the couch.

“i do not. i just—i think i like the version of him that brings me sweet coffee and holds maria like she’s made of clouds. not the one who has girls thirst-posting about his neck.”

naomi gave her a look. “baby girl, those are the same guy. and you already knew that. he didn’t exactly hide the fact that he’s… you know, him.”

“yeah, well, he didn’t show me his gq spread either,” y/n muttered, reaching for her wine again.

“okay, fair. but still—you knew. Now atet we know he isn’t just auston from highschool. he is auston freaking matthews. the guy’s face has been in youTube ads since you mentioned him.”

“i didn’t watch hockey in high school! still don’t”

“you didn’t watch tv in high school. you were too busy being a good student and dating trent the tire fire.”

y/n groaned louder. “you are is not helping.”

naomi softened then, leaning over and nudging her gently. “look,” she said, voice lower now. “i get it. you’ve only ever been with boyfriends. safe guys. slow. but this? auston? he’s not that.”

y/n nodded miserably.

“he’s not a boyfriend,” she said. “he’s… auston. reddit thread subject. high-profile, NHL-star, everyone-knows-his-name-including-my-neighbors auston.”

“except,” naomi said gently, “he kind of is a boyfriend. at least with you.”

y/n blinked.

“he walked you home. he held your friend’s baby. he texted you to make sure you got inside. he’s taken you on dates. like, actual dates—not dm at 2am kind of stuff. dates.”

y/n chewed the inside of her cheek.

“he brings me disgustingly sweet coffee.”

“exactly. no self-respecting man drinks that crap unless he’s trying to get laid or he’s trying to impress a girl he really likes.”  naomi grinned. 

she continued, while laughing under her breath at y/n. “i think he might be both.”

y/n sighed, sinking back into the couch, the wine now humming under her skin.

she didn’t want to admit it. but the truth curled in her stomach like heat.

he made her feel something. and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, that something was powerful, magnetic, impossible to resist.

and god help her—after all that reddit research—she was curious.

dangerously so.

the days after felt different. not on the surface — not enough that anyone else would notice. but auston felt it. in the way she answered his texts a little later than usual. in how she always seemed to have somewhere else to be when he offered to stop by with coffee or walk felix. in the little silences that had crept in where easy conversation used to live.

he tried not to overthink it at first. maybe she was just busy. maybe he was imagining it. but the feeling stuck — a quiet weight between his ribs every time she slipped just a little further away.

on a wednesday, after his morning skate, he called her. just to hear her voice, just to ask something simple.

“hey,” he said, casual, warm, like nothing felt off at all. “you want me to swing by after work? we could grab something, or i can just bring felix’s leash if you’re tired.”

there was a pause — just a second too long.

“that’s sweet,” she said finally, and her voice was gentle, careful. “but i think i’m just gonna have a quiet night. it’s been a long day.”

he hesitated, trying to keep his voice light. “you sure? i don’t mind.”

“i’m sure,” she said, soft but firm.

and that was that.

he hung up, the smile fading from his face before the call even ended.

alone in her apartment that night, y/n sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone like it might give her answers she didn’t want to say out loud. she’d done the thing she promised herself she wouldn’t. searched him. really searched him. beyond the stats she already knew. beyond the highlight reels.

pictures from parties. women — perfect women — smiling at his side, draped over him like they belonged there. interviews where he talked about his career, his life in cities she’d never even visited. articles with words like superstar and celebrity and elite.

and now, for the first time in a long time, she felt small. out of place. like she’d stumbled into something that wasn’t meant for her.

the things that made her feel so steady with him — the coffee runs, the walks, the way his fingers brushed hers like it meant something — they felt fragile now. like she’d imagined how close they’d gotten.

she hated that she felt it. hated that she let some stranger’s photo or headline get under her skin. but it was there, sharp and quiet and persistent.

and so, she avoided. not because she didn’t want him near — god, she did. but because she didn’t know how to stand next to him without feeling like she didn’t belong.

auston felt the shift more with every passing day. the warmth she’d let him have — the softness in her smile, the easy way she used to lean into him — it felt further and further away, like trying to catch sunlight through a window.

and the worst part? he didn’t know how to reach her without making her pull back even more.

but he knew this much: she was slipping through his fingers, and he wasn’t ready to let her go.

days passed, but the distance didn’t. if anything, it grew — small at first, so small it could’ve been missed. she’d smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she’d text back, but it was shorter, safer. when he called, she’d sound tired. when he asked to see her, she had a reason to say no.

auston noticed it all. the way she avoided walking home the long way with him. how she stopped sending him dumb pictures of felix during the day. how she laughed less, looked at him less.

he tried to reason with himself — maybe she was busy. maybe she was overwhelmed. but that quiet gut-punch told him the truth: she was pulling away, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

so one night, after staring at his phone too long and pacing his apartment until he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed his keys and left.

she didn’t expect the knock.

y/n hesitated at the door, heart racing in a way that annoyed her — like she’d already lost control of this before she even opened it. and when she did, and saw him there — all messy hair and restless energy, eyes searching hers like he’d come to find something he’d lost — she almost forgot how to breathe.

she didn’t open the door all the way, but she didn’t close it either. auston could feel the crack widening between them, metaphorically and literally, even if she was still cautious. her hand stayed on the edge of the door like she needed to hold onto something — like letting go meant letting herself fall.

she let the door open a little more, heart still pounding, the fight in her starting to waver beneath how honest he sounded, how much he meant it.

and without thinking, felix padded up behind him, nosing at the gap between them like he sensed the tension, tail wagging as if his presence alone could fix it.

auston glanced down at his dog, then back at her.

“let me in,” he said softly. “just for a little while.”

and this time, she didn’t stop herself. she stepped back, letting the door swing open. letting him in. letting them in.

because as much as she tried to protect herself, the truth was she didn’t want to shut him out. not really. not at all.

he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her like he could read the script she was trying not to say out loud.

and he could see it all over her face.

not just tired. not just guarded. she looked like she wanted to let herself believe in something, but every bone in her body was telling her not to.

“i can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice low, raw at the edges. “y/n… please just talk to me. i don’t care if you’re mad. i don’t care if you’re scared. but don’t shut me out without telling me why.”

she blinked at him, throat tight.

“you think i don’t see it?” he continued, stepping just close enough that she could feel the weight of his presence. “you dodge my calls. you smile like you’re fine but you won’t look me in the eye. you don’t send me those dumb dog photos anymore. you didn’t want me to pick you up from work. you don’t even want me standing here right now.”

she tried to say something, but nothing came out.

“just tell me why,” he said, quieter now. vulnerable in a way she’d never seen him. “why are you mad at me? what did i do?”

and that was when she realized — he really didn’t know. he wasn’t playing dumb. he wasn’t trying to cover anything up. he just… didn’t know.

her grip on the door softened, and her heart broke a little at the way he looked at her — like he’d give anything to make this right.

“i’m not mad,” she said finally, voice small. “i’m… i don’t know. i just…”

she hesitated, but he waited, patient, like he’d stay there all night if she needed him to.

“i looked you up,” she admitted, almost embarrassed. “after that day in the square. i saw everything — the articles, the pictures, the women, the parties… i thought i was okay with it, but then i wasn’t. and i felt stupid. and small. and like i didn’t belong anywhere near you.”

his expression softened, everything in him aching to close the space between them.

she hesitated, but he waited, patient, like he’d stay there all night if she needed him to.

“i looked you up,” she admitted, almost embarrassed. “after that day in the square. i saw everything — the articles, the pictures, the women, the parties… i thought i was okay with it, but then i wasn’t. and i felt stupid. and small. and like i didn’t belong anywhere near you.”

his expression softened, his heart breaking a little at how small she sounded.

“god, y/n,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. he stepped closer, slow, careful, until he could see the tears brimming in her eyes that she was too proud to let fall. “you belong. you don’t even see it, do you? none of that — the pictures, the stories, those people — none of it feels real like this does. like you do.”

she swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in her throat.

“felix loves you,” he added, trying to ease the moment, his lips twitching into something soft and true. “you think i’d let my dog fall for someone who doesn’t belong?”

that almost made her laugh — almost.

“auston…”

“don’t pull away from me because of stuff that doesn’t matter,” he said, voice steady but thick with feeling. “please. don’t do that.”

“you live in canada, auston.”

he blinked at her honesty, then nodded slowly.

“i know.”

“and i live here. this—this is my life. i don’t have the luxury of disappearing for weeks or flying around or… doing what you do.”

“i’m not asking you to disappear,” he said gently. “i’m asking you to give me a summer.”

her eyebrows lifted slightly. “a summer?”

he nodded once. “yeah. just… give me this time. we don’t have to figure everything out right now. i don’t expect you to pack up your life. i don’t expect you to turn this into something it’s not ready to be. but i can’t stop thinking about you, and not in some fleeting way. you’ve been in my head since we were kids, y/n. since before either of us knew what any of this would look like.”

she looked at him now. really looked at him. and he looked so earnest—so young, in a way. not in age, but in the way hope looked on him.

“it’s not just the distance, auston. it’s you. you’re… you’re you. you’re a big deal.”

he smiled a little, almost sheepishly. “not to you.”

she didn’t say anything.

“you’re still the girl who made me laugh in your backyard when i was trying to act like trent wasn’t the biggest idiot on earth. you didn’t care about the game, or the hype, or who i might be one day. you asked me if i liked honey barbecue wings and then told me i had weird hands. you roasted me.”

“you do have weird hands.”

“see?” he grinned. “that’s what i mean. you’re not here for any of the bullshit.”

she looked at him, quiet.

“i haven’t felt this… this relieved in a long time,” he said. “like the weight goes away when i’m with you. and it’s not because you’re some escape. it’s because you’re real. and i don’t have to perform or win or be anything other than who i am.”

her face softened, something in her shoulders slowly easing—just barely.

“give me this summer,” he said again, stepping closer. “let’s go to bad diners and walk felix and have lazy sundays. and if, at the end of it, you tell me it’s not right—then fine. i’ll back off. i’ll carry this and leave you be. but if there’s even a part of you that wants to know what this could be… say yes.”

she looked up at him then, and it was the way she blinked—slow and searching—that made his heart skip.

“you’re exhausting,” she muttered, trying to hide the smile that curled at the corner of her mouth.

“i’ve been told.”

“and you talk too much when you’re nervous.”

“also accurate.”

she exhaled, brushing a hand through her hair.

“just the summer?”

“just the summer,” he promised. “no expectations. no pressure.”

she tilted her head, still trying not to smile. “and what happens when the summer ends?”

his voice was soft now, sure.

“then we figure it out together.”

for a moment, neither of them moved. the air felt still, the weight of everything between them hanging in the quiet like fog.

but then she nodded.

once. slow but cautious. and overall, hopeful.

“okay,” she whispered. “just the summer.”

he grinned. like the sun had just come out for the first time all week.

and then he added, voice low and teasing, “does this mean we’re back to kissing again?”

she rolled her eyes.

but she didn’t say no.

the second she nodded—even the slightest movement of her chin in agreement—he surged forward like the entire week of her silence had been a dam and she’d just cracked it open with a single word.

his mouth was on hers in a breathless second.

there was nothing hesitant this time. no teasing edge or first-kiss nervousness. it was heat and hunger and want. it was the kind of kiss that curled toes and made hearts stumble out of rhythm. he held her like he was scared she might vanish again, his hands cradling her face with all the gentleness he could manage while his mouth moved against hers like he’d forgotten how to breathe without her.

and god, she missed him too.

she melted into it, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as he kissed her like she was the answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask until now. he kissed her like he meant it, like no amount of time or distance could make this moment anything less than inevitable.

when they finally broke apart—barely, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath—he grinned.

“that was… overdue.”

she laughed, still slightly dazed. “a little.”

“you’ve been dodging me all week,” he whispered, nose brushing hers. “i was going crazy. i even let my friends talk me into hosting a party to distract myself.”

she smirked, tilting her head. “didn’t you have a party tonight?”

he kissed the corner of her mouth. “i told them to clear out.”

her brows lifted. “just like that?”

he nodded. “family went to alex and bry’s. the house is empty. i just want to see you. even if it’s just for a couple hours. hell, even if you fall asleep again.”

“auston,” she murmured, laughing softly. “i just go in. i haven’t showered yet. i smell like antiseptic and baby wipes.”

he gave her a look—half smug, half please don’t make me beg.

he stepped back slightly, reaching for the small gym bag by the door she had packed days ago but hadn't bothered with it after days of radio silence from her side. “come over, please,” he added, sheepish. “i know you were suppose to come the other night and i don't blame you for wanting space. but respectfully i don't want space. i want you with me.”

she blinked, staring at him. “you sure you want me over?

he shrugged, trying to play it cool but clearly failing by how pink his ears were. “i’ve missed you.”

her heart ached a little at the sincerity.

“you’re clingy,” she whispered fondly.

“you love it,” he shot back, smile wide and shameless.

she rolled her eyes, but she didn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “fine. i’ll come over. but only because i want to see felix.”

he laughed, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers like it was second nature.

“he’s missed you too. i showed him your picture and he whined.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re still coming.”

she didn’t even fight it.

truthfully, she wanted to be next to him. missed the warmth, the quiet ease of his presence, the way he looked at her like she hung the moon.

and maybe she needed that tonight.

as they stepped out into the warm arizona night, her hand still in his and her gym bag slung over his shoulder, she glanced over at him.

“you sure your house is empty?”

he smirked. “empty enough.”

“and you’re not just trying to get me in your bed?”

he leaned in, voice low and teasing. “i mean… not tonight.”

she snorted. “charming.”

he kissed her cheek, soft and sweet. “i’ll wait.”

“you better.”

“worth every second.”

and she didn’t say anything, but she squeezed his hand just a little tighter.

he kept true to his word—his house was practically empty, save for a few close friends who waved politely from the kitchen as she walked in. she recognized one or two vaguely from school, but before she could linger on the awkwardness, auston leaned close and whispered, “they’re leaving in like five. you’re the main event.”

and sure enough, within minutes, it was just them.

just her and auston.

he led her into the living room like it was sacred ground. the lights were dimmed low, soft amber glow from the lamp in the corner. the sectional was already laid out like a campsite—blankets piled high, throw pillows everywhere, even an extra comforter folded neatly at the edge. there was a candle burning that smelled like warm vanilla and clean cotton. she blinked, overwhelmed by how intentional it all felt.

“okay,” he said, proudly pulling out his phone. “i ordered tacos, wings, sushi, burgers, and thai food. and mochi. just in case.”

“what the hell, auston?”

he shrugged, smug. “you didn’t text me all week. i wasn’t about to guess wrong. i just got everything you’ve ever even looked at.”

she laughed, watching him kick off his shoes and settle into the couch like he’d been waiting for this night for years. maybe he had. and the strangest part? so had she.

“okay,” he said again, more serious this time. “now that you’re here, i have a confession.”

she raised an eyebrow, curling onto the couch as he tossed a blanket over her lap.

“i didn’t actually want to watch love island before.”

her eyes narrowed. “you lied to me?”

“technically, no. i just… didn’t care about it until you said you liked it. and then i kind of associated it with your voice and your laugh and this one time you texted me a meme at like one in the morning and said it reminded you of me.”

“the guy crying over his type while dating his type?”

“exactly. so now i’ve been saving it. for this.”

she stared at him, warmth rising in her chest. “you’re kind of an idiot.”

he grinned, settling beside her, so close she could feel the heat of him through their hoodies. “an idiot in love island prison.”

“you really waited to watch this?”

he nodded, completely serious. “every season. i’ve seen spoilers on tiktok, and i scroll past them. i suffer.”

she shook her head, laughing as she reached for the remote. “you’re unreal.”

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, cracking open a can of ginger ale and handing it to her like it was champagne. “let the chaos begin.”

as the theme music played and the neon intro started rolling, he shifted closer, their legs brushing under the blanket. she didn’t pull away.

neither did he.

they spent the next hour curled into each other like they were always meant to. food containers slowly opened around them like petals in bloom—sauce-stained napkins, stray rice grains, the smell of garlic and ginger and grease in the air.

they talked between episodes, teased each other about which contestants were the worst, shared bites of things, laughed when she spilled sauce on his shirt. and at some point, she leaned her head on his shoulder. and then, when the screen started to blur and the wine slowed her thoughts, he tilted his head and whispered, “you know you can just stay here, right?”

she mumbled something about toothbrushes and her hair products and clean underwear, but he was already reaching for the gym bag he’d repacked.

“i told you,” he said, voice soft in the glow of the TV. “i’ve been ready.”

and somehow, in the haze of late-night warmth and comfort food and the lull of soft british accents onscreen, she realized something:

so was she.

the hours slipped by like honey—slow, golden, and impossibly sweet. neither of them reached for the remote again after the fourth or fifth episode. it just played on in the background, the show more like ambience than actual entertainment now. he’d tucked her further into his side, absently running his fingers along her arm while she took another bite of pad see ew, groaning dramatically.

“i’m so full,” she mumbled, slumping into him with a heavy sigh. “i don’t think i can breathe.”

auston laughed, low and lazy. “you’re dramatic.”

“no, i mean it. i’m ninety percent noodles right now.”

“then it’s a good thing i’m strong,” he smirked, and before she could protest, he hooked an arm under her legs and lifted her up with ease, the blanket still tangled around her like a cape.

“auston!” she squealed, swatting at his chest as she clung to him. “put me down!”

“never,” he grinned. “you said you couldn’t breathe. i’m being a hero.”

“a dramatic one,” she mumbled into his shoulder, but she didn’t fight it anymore. not really. not when it meant being this close to him.

he carried her up the stairs effortlessly, barefoot and smug, until they reached the hallway and a door slightly ajar. as he pushed it open with his foot, she peeked her head up, glancing around the space.

it was clean. a little too clean. minimal. bed made perfectly, two duffel bags in the corner, one dresser, one nightstand. no real pictures, no clutter, nothing personal. sterile, in a weird way.

she twisted to look at him as he set her gently down on the edge of the bed. “you don’t really live here, huh?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “yeah. it’s… kinda like an airbnb at this point. my sisters make fun of me for it. say i only come home to do laundry and let mom feed me.”

“and avoid your sisters snooping through your stuff.”

“exactly,” he chuckled, watching her stand and stretch.

she gave him a teasing little glance over her shoulder. “well, if it’s an airbnb, you really should leave a better review next time. zero personality in here.”

he grinned, leaning back against the bedframe. “you offering to redecorate?”

“maybe,” she hummed, tugging her hoodie over her head. “after my shower.”

and then, with one last cheeky smile: “unless you’re still thinking of joining me.”

he raised his hands in mock innocence. “i’d never.”

“liar,” she laughed, disappearing into the ensuite.

he groaned softly once the door clicked shut, running a hand over his face as he sank fully into the mattress. what the hell was she doing to him?

he changed quickly in the guest bathroom down the hall, then came back to his room and climbed onto the bed, waiting for her. the sound of the shower running soothed him more than he expected. it reminded him she was here. not through a phone screen. not at work. here.

when she finally emerged, wrapped in one of his oversized shirts she must’ve pulled from his drawer, her hair damp and her skin glowing from the steam, he felt a dull ache in his chest. like something soft and permanent was carving its way in.

“hey,” she murmured, padding toward the bed.

“hey,” he echoed, reaching for her hand.

she slipped in beside him without hesitation, folding into the blankets, their legs tangling naturally under the covers. he shifted onto his side to face her, brushing a stray curl from her cheek.

“you look—”

“don’t say tired.”

“—beautiful.”

she smiled, eyes fluttering. “you’re just saying that ‘cause i’m not wearing your hoodie anymore.”

“no,” he said quietly. “i’m saying it because it’s true.”

her breath caught slightly at the way he said it—no teasing, no smirk. just truth, laid bare between them.

she reached for him then, fingertips brushing the side of his face before pulling him in, slow and sweet. their lips met again, deeper this time, unhurried and full of all the longing they’d held in over the last week.

his hand cupped her jaw, thumb tracing her cheekbone, and hers found his waist, anchoring them together. they kissed like they were trying to memorize it—every tilt, every soft sigh, every heartbeat stuttering beneath their skin.

when they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed close, he whispered, “i missed this.”

“me too.”

he pulled her in tighter, her back pressed to his chest as they nestled deeper into the bed, her body soft and warm against his.

“don’t leave tomorrow,” he mumbled into her hair.

“i wasn’t planning on it,” she whispered back.

and for the first time in a long time, neither of them needed to say anything more.

the next day, the afternoon sun shone through the living room blinds, striping the floor in warm amber light. she was on one end of the couch, legs crossed under her, finishing off the last few bites of takeout while auston lounged on the other, head leaned back, his fingers lazily toying with a strand of her hair draped over the cushion between them.

“you really don’t care about hockey at all, huh?” he asked, almost in disbelief, watching her wipe her fingers on a napkin.

she gave him a look. “you sound so offended.”

“i kinda am.” he sat up a little, brows raised. “i mean, not even a little bit? it’s the greatest sport in the world.”

“you keep saying that like it’ll change something,” she smirked, stretching her arms with a content sigh. “i grew up watching football. real football. cardinals all day.”

auston groaned like she’d personally insulted him. “god, i forgot about that. the cardinals?”

“yup.” she popped the ‘p’ with pride. “through the highs and many lows.”

he narrowed his eyes. “so you’d willingly sit through a four-hour football game with five commercial breaks every ten seconds but you won’t give hockey a chance?”

“correct.” she leaned into the cushion smugly. “besides, if i wanted to watch a bunch of men crash into each other at full speed, i’d just go to costco during a sale.”

“okay, ouch,” he said, hand over his heart. “that was below the belt.”

she grinned, reaching for her drink. “what can i say? i don’t really get the appeal. all that padding and angry skating.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “you’re a critical.”

“i’m a realist.”

he leaned in, his tone dropping to something more genuine. “you know, if you ever gave it a shot—i think you’d love it. the game’s fast. it’s strategic. brutal sometimes, but it’s got heart.”

she blinked at him, slightly surprised at how serious his voice had gotten. “you really love it, huh?”

his gaze held hers. “it’s everything.”

and for a moment, her teasing softened into something quieter. something that reminded her how much the game had built him—the way it lived under his skin, the way his posture always shifted whenever it came up.

but of course, she couldn’t resist just one more jab.

“well,” she drawled slowly, sipping her drink, “i might have to start watching if only to keep up with your team.”

auston smirked. “finally, some sense.”

she tapped her fingers on her glass. “especially if nylander’s playing.”

his entire face froze.

“excuse me?” he deadpanned.

she bit her lip to hide her grin. “what? he’s cute.”

he looked personally betrayed. “willy?”

“mhm. that hair? come on. and those eyes?”

“you’re joking.”

she tilted her head innocently. “am i?”

auston stared at her for a long second before grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her stomach. “i’m actually gonna kick you out.”

she burst into laughter, doubling over as he muttered dramatic curses under his breath.

“what happened to being a realist?” he huffed.

“i’m allowed to appreciate art,” she teased.

“that ‘art’ plans his outfits weeks in advance and takes longer in the mirror than anyone i know.”

“so do i. sound like we are a match” she shot back.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “i can’t believe i brought you into my house.”

she leaned over, poking his chest. “aw, don’t be jealous. you’re still my favorite hockey player… barely.”

“wow.” he looked over at her, faux-offended. “i take it all back. you’re banned from coming to a game.”

“good. i was gonna root for the other team anyway.”

he lunged toward her like he was going to tackle her into the couch, and she shrieked, laughing as she tried to dodge.

“take it back!” he demanded through his smile.

“never!”

in the middle of their playful chaos, he caught her wrist and pulled her toward him, their laughter slowing, their faces just a breath apart now. the shift in energy was immediate—playful turned tender, a spark catching in the quiet space between them.

“even if you never watch a game,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to her lips, “i think you’re my favorite person who doesn’t care.”

she felt her pulse thrum, her fingers brushing his hoodie.

she remained curled up beside him, legs tucked under her, sipping slowly from a glass of iced tea. the silence was comfortable, filled with those soft in-between moments that only grew sweeter the more time they spent together. eventually, he broke it.

“so… you really never been on skates before?”

she tilted her head up to look at him, scrunching her nose. “never. not even once.”

“like… ever?”

“auston,” she laughed, nudging his chest, “i’m from arizona. i grew up in the desert. the only ice i ever saw was in my drink.”

he blinked at her, genuinely stunned. “you’re kidding.”

“nope.” she smiled at the disbelief on his face, kind of loving how personal the whole topic clearly was to him. “you forget—my hobbies were trying not to melt and learning how to drive with oven mitts in the summer.”

he groaned. “i don’t know if i should be impressed or horrified.”

“both,” she teased.

he shifted slightly so he could face her more, his thigh pressed snug against hers now. “so wait… you’ve never seen a hockey game either?”

she paused. “um… do the fights on espn highlights count?”

his hand fell over his chest in mock betrayal. “you’re breaking my heart, y/n.”

she laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea. “i’m sorry! it’s just never been my thing. and you know i didn’t know who you were when we met.”

“yeah,” he muttered, smirking a little. “i remember. that part kinda stung.”

“oh please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “you liked it.”

he gave a lazy shrug. “maybe. little bit. but c’mon, i gotta fix this. you need to understand hockey.”

“do i, though?”

“yes,” he said, completely serious now, turning his body to face her fully. “you’re hanging out with a guy who’s played since he was two and doesn’t shut up about it. it’s time.”

she set her glass on the coffee table and leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder. “fine. teach me.”

he grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach flutter in the most inconvenient and addictive way. “okay. so… hockey. six guys on the ice per team. one’s the goalie. the point is to score goals. obvious stuff. but the beauty’s in the plays. the speed. how things change every second.”

“sounds like chaos.”

“controlled chaos,” he said, the way someone does when they’re talking about something sacred. “fastest game in the world. everything’s always moving, everyone’s thinking like ten steps ahead.”

she watched him closely—how his eyes lit up, how his hands moved when he talked, full of that quiet passion that made it impossible not to be drawn in. it wasn’t about explaining a sport. he was letting her into something that built him, shaped him.

“so do you, like, have favorite moments?” she asked, soft now.

he blinked at her, caught off guard by the shift in tone. “yeah. a few.”

“like what?”

“first goal in the league. home opener in ottawa. it was loud—crazy loud. but there was this moment, right after i scored, where i just looked up into the crowd and it felt like… like i made it, you know?”

she smiled, something warm blooming in her chest. “of course you made it. if the first goal didn't say that. the next three definitely solidified your place in the league”

he turned to her shocked, "what? i had to know if i was dealing with a scrub" she winked but his face was already heating at the idea of her keeping tabs on his accolades. he leaned over and kissed her cheek to show his appreciation.

he looked at her then, the way someone does when they’re trying to memorize a face. “you wanna come to a game this fall?”

“i don’t know…” she smirked, reaching for her drink again. “i might get distracted.”

he raised a brow. “by what?”

she hummed dramatically, pretending to think. "your teammates. they're all seriously gorgeous”

his jaw dropped. “are you serious right now?”

“i mean,” she continued with a sly grin, sipping her tea, “i might have to become a leafs fan for him alone.”

“you’re not funny,” he muttered, poking her side while she squealed. “you’re an actual menace.”

“i’m just saying! the competition’s steep!”

“you’re killing me.”

she laughed so hard she nearly knocked over the remote. he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, half-exasperated, half-smitten.

“fine,” he said. “i guess you’ll just have to watch and decide for yourself.”

“mhm. i’ll come to a game,” she whispered into his shoulder, “but only if you teach me how to skate.”

he stilled for a second. “wait, seriously?”

“yeah. but i want the full experience. you gotta hold my hands and everything.”

“deal,” he said, instantly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “just don’t fall for my teammates when i’m gone.”

she burst into laughter again, burying her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

and in that moment—just the two of them curled into each other on a couch in arizona—he felt more grounded than he had in years. because she didn’t care about the noise. she cared about him. and for the first time, he let her all the way in.

taglist — @celestixldarling @steph1106 @siennaluvshcky @macka

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[stayonmars]

Me complaining about how my fave characters/sports players/hyperfixations barely have any fanfics about them while also looking for specific tropes then realising that I need to write them to satisfy myself:

[stayonmars]

Perfect Fit

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You fit perfectly into Quinn's family, knowing how much they love you just makes Quinn realise that you're it for him.

Notes: Requested by an anon, I hope you like it. I went with a kind of snapshot of events vibe for this one

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's never had a girlfriend who fit in quite so well into his family because you were quite literally a perfect fit. Every single member of his family loved you. His mom, his dad, his brothers, his grandma, all his cousins. There wasn't a single person who didn't ask where you were when you couldn't come to a family event or who didn't write you a Christmas card or a birthday card. You were in every family group chat, on everyone's list of Christmas presents to buy.

You'd integrated so well into his family that he couldn't really imagine a life without you because suddenly there'd be a missing puzzle piece in the family puzzle, a glaring gap. The sort of hole that would be so noticeable, so obvious.

It's extra obvious whenever he goes to a family event without you, like tonight. You're held up with a big work project, leaving Quinn to go to the big family get together on his own. He knew everyone would be upset about it, there was only so often that all the family were in the local area and you not being there would be obvious to them.

His grandma has already found herself a comfortable armchair when he arrives for the party, cousins, aunts and uncles milling about. His brothers talking to his parents by the snacks, Luke stuffing his face between sentences because he seemed to have hollow legs these days.

"Hey, Grandma'"

"Hey, sweetie," He kisses his grandma on the cheek letting her pull him in tight for a hug, but it's clear her attention isn't on him, her eyes looking over his shoulder, searching.

"You alright, Grandma?" He's a little put out to be honest. His grandma, who he hasn't seen in months, barely looking at him, eyes scanning the room.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Oh, she couldn't make it, she's got a big project goin' on at work and has to stay late for the next week or so." There's part of him that preens at her question because his grandma loves you, something he can't help but love. He loves it for himself, but he also loves it for you knowing you didn't have the best relationship with your own grandparents, knowing that his grandma had healed something in you that no one could see.

"Oh, but I wanted to see her so badly, Quinn! I was going to give her my recipe, the one she asked for to make those snickerdoodles she liked so much." She looks genuinely sad and Quinn briefly considers face timing you to show you because you'd probably cave and drop your work project for his grandma and then he'd have you here. God, he misses you...

"Well, I can give it to her, grandma."

"No! I want to give it to her, what if you lose it?" He can't help the offended scoff he lets out or the way his jaw drops open in shock. His grandma not trusting him more than you hurt a little, even as he loved that she adored you so much. He was perfectly capable of not losing a stupid snickerdoodle recipe...

His mood is no less grumpy when Jack and Luke sling their arms over his shoulders, laughing at him and the way his grandma is holding her recipe to her chest as if he might snatch it from her.

Jack is the worst, "Oh he'd definitely lose it, grams!"

Quinn glares at him, "I'll make sure she comes to the next one, grandma, yeah?" He tries his best to not take his annoyance with Jack out on his grandma, trying to focus on that fuzzy little feeling in his chest at how much she seems to love you. He's never had a girlfriend his grandma really cared much about beyond the occasional question, but you? God, she's not happy to just see him anymore, if he doesn't bring you along she's always visibly disappointed.

"Mmm, it'll have to do! Tell her I love her will you?"

"Course, grandma..." He grunts out, rolling his eyes as Jack and Luke laugh and start dragging him away. As he goes he can't help but mutter under his breath, "More than you love me clearly"

"Jack Rowden Hughes!" Your hands are on your hips glaring at Jack outside the Lake House, a smoking microwave between the two of you where Luke and Quinn had tossed it after hearing your panicked calls for help. The microwave in question had been briefly on fire, not something Quinn really thought he'd be dealing with today.

"Oh god, he's done it now..." Quinn can't help but grin, leaning against the side of the house as he watches you, Luke stood next to him looks more concerned and less amused.

"Should we save him?"

"Nah, I wanna watch this." Quinn's grin widens at the way Jack seems to shrink under your glare like a naughty kid. You've definitely got the mom voice down. It's like watching a younger Jack whenever their mom had to tell him off for something stupid or reckless.

"You just want to watch your girlfriend rip into him because you think it's hot."

"And can you blame me?" He can't even deny it. Quinn thinks you're beautiful all the time, but there's something especially thrilling about watching you rip into his little brother about nearly setting the Lake House on fire.

There's a pause from Luke where he looks at Quinn unsure, words coming out slow and cautious, unsure, "I feel like that's a trick question."

"You would be correct, don't even think about suggesting my girlfriend is hot." Quinn glares a Luke even though the truth is he's playing about. He knows you're beautiful and he also knows both his brothers consider you to be a sister figure, he knows he doesn't need to worry. But, it's funny to give Luke a hard time sometimes.

"So, should I say she's ugly?"

"She's gorgeous but you don't need to think that. Strictly platonic thoughts only, Lukey."

"Quinn?" He looks over with a raised eyebrow, "I love you, but you're insane." They're both pulled from their conversation by the sound your voice again, loud and clear and very much scolding.

You've still got your hands on your hips, a glare has developed on your features and Jack looks even more like his teenage self if possible. His hair is a mess, hands having run through it repeatedly, tugging on the strands.

"What on earth possessed you to think putting tin foil in a microwave was a good idea?! It's metal, Jack! You nearly blew up the microwave!" You feel like you're back at university, dealing with barely legal individuals who can't figure out that cooking a whole chicken in a microwave is simply not going to work. Jack Hughes has managed to give you a headache. His sheepish grin manages to soften some of your edges, but you're still baffled and confused by Jack's sheer lack of common sense.

"How was I supposed to know that that wasn't something you should do?!"

"It's common sense, Jack! Did you not pass science?" You know he did, well aware that Jack was not in fact an idiot. But, Jesus Christ on a bike...tin foil in the microwave? The microwave?! The smell of burning plastic and metal is still assaulting your nose, the adrenaline from thinking the house was about to burn down still running through you.

"...I hate you." Jack's pout breaks you a little, a huff of a laugh leaving you as your shoulders relax somewhat because in reality the whole situation is funny, now that the Lake House isn't about to burn down.

"No you don't."

Jack sighs loudly, stepping around the microwave to pull you into a side hug, "No...I don't...I'm sorry for nearly blowing up the microwave."

"It's okay, I love you even if you're an idiot." You grin up at your boyfriend's brother, who looks at you aghast, jaw dropped at your audacity.

"Hey!"

Quinn can't help but smile, the way you just fit in with his baby brothers, how Jack enjoys your company and how easy you find it to mess with him. You fit in like a puzzle piece.

Summers at the Lake House might be your favourite, the warm wood of the deck beneath your feet, the sun on your skin, a little chubby toddler running towards you at full pelt while you laugh, Quinn watching on from the side lines because he can't help but adore how you act with his baby cousins. You're made for it, made for his family, but made for interacting with little kids too, so gentle with them, but fun too. They love you so much that he can't help but practically develop heart eyes.

"Up! Up!" Quinn's baby cousin, Chase, is at your feet, arms in the air making grabby motions with his hands. His floppy sun hat is a little too large for him and covers his eyes in an adorable fashion, but at least it protects him a little from the summer sun at the Lake House.

"Up? You want to be up here?" You gesture with you arms as you grin down at the little toddler, his chubby cheeks red from running towards you, his skin covered in sun cream.

"Up!" His hands continue to make grabbing motions at you, hands clenching into fists and unclenching in quick succession. He grins at you wide, his gap filled smile endearing.

"What's the magic word?" You're smiling wide at his cousin, even as you remind him of his manners and there's just something so...so affable, so natural about the whole thing.

"Up, pwease!" His little toddler lisp more pronounced on the word, drawing it out until you're laughing, reaching down to grab him under the arms and lift him up into your own.

He squirms a little at first before settling himself comfortably against you, head leaning on your shoulder, smiling up at you like you've hung the moon in the sky. You hold Chase so naturally that Quinn can't really help but think about what it might be like one day when the toddler in your arms is your own. A little toddler with his nose, your eyes and some combination of you both that just seems to work. How you'd carry them around the Lake House, helping them toast marshmallows over the firepit and teaching them eventually how to swim.

"She's good with the kids..." It's his mom who comes up behind him, smiling wide, blue eyes practically glowing as she puts her arm through his.

"I know..." He can't take his eyes off you, you've started to tickle chase, the toddler squirming in your arms as he laughs loudly, big grin on his little face as his favourite person gives him undivided attention. You're practically glowing, wide smile on your face, your own laugh resonating through the air. His chest tightens with affection, an ache for something he hasn't got quite yet, a yearning in his chest.

"Makes you think, huh?" His mom is smirking at him and he knows he's being obvious, knows she can tell how in love he is, how desperate he is to make you a permanent fixture in his life...to make the image in front of him slightly different, a toddler that looks like a combination of the two of you in your arms rather than his baby cousin.

There's a beat of silence where Quinn watches you, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of love, and his mom watches him, the way he can't seem to hide how deeply he loves you. It's how she knows you're it for him before he even says a word, it helps that Ellen can't help but love you. She's always been welcoming to Quinn's past girlfriends, but she's never quite loved one as much as she loves you. You're good for Quinn, that's the real crux of why she loves you so much...because you give Quinn something to love that's not hockey, you give him another purpose while getting him to shut off, to rest. Of all her sons Quinn is the most dedicated, and with that dedication comes the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's like you walked in one day, and stepped underneath the globe with him to make holding the weight a little easier.

"I think she's it, Mom...I think that's my wife right there..."

"Yeah? I'd hope so because I'll ground you for life if you let her go."

"I'm 25 years old, Mom." He can't help but laugh at his mother, eyes rolling as she grins at him, laugh lines deepening around her mouth and besides her eyes. He's missed this during the season, the unrestricted family time, the back and forth with his mom that makes everything feel simple, even the concept of a proposal, of marriage.

"I can still ground you, I'm your mother." Ellen pokes him in the ribs, Quinn twisting away with a huff.

"Well, good thing I'm not planning on letting her go anywhere anytime soon." He pats his jacket pocket, the shape of a box just visible enough to cause his mom to gasp and he knows, fuck, he knows it's the right choice.

He loves you, adores you, can't imagine a life without you and his mom? She's so excited, so happy, not just because it's Quinn, but because it's you. He'd love you even if his family didn't, but there's something about how much they do love you that makes this perfect, makes this feel so utterly right.

Now he just needs to find the right moment, the right time to finally make you a permanent part of the family.

[stayonmars]

Gurl why are you always naked 😂😂

From insta 250621

[stayonmars]

OH MY SWEET BOY WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE YOU 😭💜💜💜💜

finding out you’re pregnant and having to tell Luke pleaseee

TWO LINES – luke hughes x gf!reader

summary: two lines, two words, and a whole lot of feelings.

notes: I loosely based this on a TikTok I saw of a woman doing this! Also, Luke is aged up in this.

warnings: pregnancy doubts, pregnancy, suggestive language, use of nicknames- sweet girl and baby, other than that rather fluffy!

Your fingers quickly darted to the screen of your phone just as the timer hit zero, the grey screen immediately fading into your lockscreen.

Your eyes faltered on the picture, heart racing, hands clammy.

The photo was of you and Luke, cuddled up beside each other out on the lake with his arm tight around your waist to hold you closer. His brother, Quinn, had taken the photo in between his boat driver duties and sent it to both of you later that evening. It was one of your favourite photos, both of your noses practically touching, summer tans in full blast, hair messy, and Luke’s curls askew and even from the picture alone, the love between you and Luke radiated. His eyes were locked on yours, lips twisted into a small smile, as your lips pouted.

You swallowed the heavy lump in your throat as your eyes jumped to the time, the white glow of 2:53 a.m. displayed itself, swimming beneath your teary gaze.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before reaching behind you, grabbing the thin stick you’d hidden from sight.

And there it was.

Two blue lines that taunted and teased you against the white background of the pregnancy test.

The answer to your recent illness, your recent dislike for your favourite foods, your recent mood swings, where you couldn’t decide if you were angered or sad.

Your hand ghosted over your stomach, which was sheathed by the soft material of one of Luke’s worn t-shirts. A sudden flurry of emotions swirled inside your chest, panic being the most prevalent.

You and Luke were still young. Sure, you had a stable job and he was entering his fifth year in the NHL…and yeah, you’d talked about your futures and your aspirations regarding family, but you’d spoken about it thinking it would be a few years from now. Not now.

Your eyes flickered to the door, the only thing separating you from Luke, who slept soundly, face mushed into his pillow, arms wrapped around the duvet you’d used to replace your body in his hold.

You were pregnant…PREGNANT.

Nicole had been to put the idea in your head.

You were at a home game to watch Luke and spent most of it catching up and chatting with the other wags. You hadn’t been to a game in a while due to the sickness you’d had, afraid to pass it on, and when you’d explained the long-lasting illness and all of the symptoms you’d experienced, Nicole had taken your hand in hers and lowered her voice.

“y/n…you don’t have to answer…but could you be pregnant?”

The question had sent a shiver down your spine. You hadn’t answered. Not right away. Not while you did the maths, trying to remember when you last had a period, the last time you’d had unprotected sex with Luke.

Nicole had kept her gaze on you, eyes soft and careful as she squeezed your hands in her grasp.

That evening, you’d told a freshly showered Luke you were just running to the shop to pick up a few bits, deterring his questions about coming with you and driving you.

And once you’d gotten home, you stashed the tests inside the bathroom before being engulfed by Luke’s clingy, postgame self. The anxiety had clawed at your soul, its nails digging into your every thought, the only thing keeping you grounded being Luke’s tight hold.

You’d gone to bed, hiding your worry and waiting for Luke to crash for the evening before you could slip out of bed and into the bathroom.

And now, you sat, afraid to move just staring at the stick.

Your anxiety twisted, punching the breath from your lungs as your hands moved to your heart, the panic seizing you completely.

Oh my god. YOU WERE PREGNANT.

You were pregnant and all you could think about was telling Luke.

He knew you like the tide knew the shore, every inch, every curve, every blemish, every feeling and every thought — he knew you. He knew how you got when you were stressed and panicked, and right now, all you wanted was to be in his arms.

You gulped as you stood up, quivering hand picking up the stick. Creeping back out into the bedroom, the light spooled over the darkness, illuminating Luke, fast asleep under the covers.

He looked angelic. His curls fanning out like a halo, his pouted lips perfectly pink and slightly open with soft breaths periodically escaping. His eyelashes brushed his cheekbones, his bare chest peeked out from beneath the comfortable covers, and his hands clutched the decoy duvet you’d left in your face.

He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily, and you almost felt guilty at the thought of disturbing his tranquillity.

But the swirling in your gut pushed you towards your shared bed.

You shakily approached Luke’s side of the bed near the door— his favourite spot on the bed, claiming that if someone broke in, he could protect you, although you knew a main reason for his choice was that there was an extra socket on that side.

You bent beside him, your free hand carefully shaking his shoulder.

“Luke!” You hurriedly whispered, hand resting on his bare skin. “Luke? Wake up.”

Your boy grumbled and clutched the duvet decoy closer, his eyebrows twitching.

“Luke?” Your voice was louder and croakier now. “I need you to wake up…need you to wake up now, please.”

It was like you’d triggered a switch because as soon as you spoke and your voice echoed, Luke was turning over to face, eyebrows furrowed and half-open eyes full of sleep.

“Wha-whatime’s it?” he slurred, hand wiping over his face as he struggled to wake. “Y’okay?”

You didn’t answer, but you felt the hot splash of tears roll down your cheeks. Upon your silence, Luke’s eyes opened fully, his face scrunching as he immediately (and rather sluggishly) pushed himself to sit up in bed, legs swinging off the side to reach for you.

As he went to grasp your hand, he faltered as his hands touched the cool plastic you’d wrapped tightly in your grasp.

Slowly, Luke unwrapped your clenched fingers, letting the stick fall into his hands as silent sobs wracked your frame.

Luke was no idiot. He knew what a pregnancy test looked like. He knew what they were. Knew how to tell if they said pregnant or not, but now, staring at the test, he felt rather clueless.

“You’re…” Luke’s eyes flicked up to meet your shaken gaze, his free hand immediately moving to pull you by your waist onto his lap. As soon as you were situated across his thighs with his arm tight around you, he looked back to the test. “You’re pregnant?”

You felt your shoulders tighten as your head nodded, tears flowing in a steady river as you clung to Luke.

“I didn’t know,” you breathed, gasping for air. “Luke, I didn’t know.”

Your boy was quick to place the test on his bedside table, his arms completely engulfing you, encouraging you to bury your head in the curve of his neck, your tears seeping into his skin.

“‘s okay, sweet girl,” Luke soothed you, his hand stroking up and down your back, eyes still focused on the test and voice hoarse. “It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know how to feel,” you cried against him, burrowing closer to his warmth. “We’re so young and you have hockey and I have a job and we said we’d have kids later in life—”

“Baby, you need to breathe,” Luke instructed, his grip on you grounding as he interrupted your rambling. “In and out, nice and slow,” he watched as you tried your best to follow his instruction, your staggered breaths evening out. “That’s it, sweet girl, that’s it.”

Luke pressed a chaste kiss to your hairline, lips lingering against your skin as his eyes flickered back to the test. You could feel his heart racing beneath you, betraying his calm composure as he held you close, thumb now tracing circles on your hip.

He allowed the two of you to just breathe for a second, to settle the peak of emotion before he spoke up once more.

“We did say later,” Luke began, voice quiet as he pulled away to look down at you curled up. “But life sometimes has a knack of fucking over plans.”

“More like you have a knack for fucking me over a table,” you sniffled. That had been the last time you’d gone without protection. Luke had returned from a week-long roadie, and you’d immediately pounced on him as soon as he entered the apartment. He’d fucked you long and hard over your kitchen table, only realising after that you’d foregone protection. The two of you just presumed the morning-after pill would do its job aptly.

“Yeah, I do,” Luke’s twisted and lopsided smile spread across his cheeks. He felt your shivering form against him, carefully reaching back to grab and blanket and shroud the two of you in it. “Look, we’re gonna figure this out, we’ll take it day by day, hour by hour, hell, even minute by minute if we have to. It’s us…We always end up figuring things out.”

Your teary-eyed self tilted your head to look up at look, nose brushing his jaw.

“But what if I’m not ready?” Your small voice cracked as you spoke, “What if we can’t figure things out?”

“I…I don’t have all the answers,” Luke admitted, hand cupping your jaw ever so lightly. “…but I know you…and I know me, and I know what we can do together, and no matter what happens, I know one thing is certain—” he paused, pressing a gentle kiss to your wet, pouted lips. “I love you…and I already love them.”

“I’m so scared, Luke.” Your face scrunched up as a few stray tears slipped from your crestfallen eyes, Luke’s thumb slowly moving to wipe them away.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I am too…and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing…but if you want this, I want this…I want all of it.”

You stared up at Luke’s earnest eyes, so full of love and care as he cradled you close. You noticed the way he didn’t move his gaze from you, centring his world on you like he always seemed to do.

And then, slowly, you feebly nodded, and Luke exhaled, chest deflating as he pressed another kiss to your lips, thumb brushing circles just beneath your ear.

When he pulled away, he slowly turned, tucking your body impossibly closer to his own as he tucked you both beneath the duvets, your back pressed to his firm chest.

“We’re going to be okay,” Luke whispered, breath ghosting over your ear as his arms wrapped around your middle. “We’re gonna be okay.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, night’s claws already breaching your wakened mind to pull you into the haven of slumber.

You felt a wave of calm wash over you from Luke’s hold, and as you finally succumbed to sleep, you felt his hands snake across your stomach, just resting over the skin, letting one last excited, barely-there whisper escape his lips.

“I’m gonna be a dad!”

[stayonmars]

[stayonmars]

MY SHAYLAS

School picture day vibes.

[stayonmars]

GOODMORNING and it's actually GOOD because we finally got the cooking stream(s) and the tattoo stream

https://youtu.be/7iFBBEi9S1U?si=OyYCBCPUQLHMThUU

https://youtu.be/K7aICWK78UQ?si=jrLO1jHtBU8f9E2p

https://youtu.be/DRv5cmeU80o?si=To-BLof12B5ibSN5

[stayonmars]

IM GONNA THROW UP HE LOOKS SO GOOD IM FREAKING OUT

Hi cutie

From Instagram

[stayonmars]

Reading this at 8:00 AM just made my day AAAAA I NEED HIM

THREE POINTS | nico hischier x fem!reader

summary : after the devils have finally had enough with their losing streak, you make a bet with nico, however many game points he gets against the bruins is how many times you get to cum. good thing nico was determined.

word count : 1.8k

warning(s) : 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk (kind of? idk), dom!nico, this is also not proofread and that’s it i think!

a/n : i started writing this at midnight and i wanted to do it in one sitting but i was TIRED so i finished it when i woke up. i hope this is good bc this is my 3rd time writing smut and i for once actually TRIED and went into writing this confidently. ALSO i got the idea right after they won the game against the bruins so i just had to bless yall with something 😋 OKAY BYE ILY ENJOY!!!

The waning crescent’s luminous hue reflects upon the New Jersey city. The street’s usual busy nature has died down. There's still half an hour left of the day. Most people have gone to bed, ready to start another Thursday. Thank God it’s nearly Friday, but the day hasn’t ended for you. 

Waiting for Nico to return home from a game always took an hour and a half. No less, nor more. So, when Nico pushes the front door to your shared apartment at a striking 11:37, knowing him he checked the mail, it leaves you to no surprise. The overview from the living room gives you a perfect view of the front door. You watch his every move from the sofa, the tailored cushions sit softly upon your skin. He closes the front door and locks it, a loud ‘click’ goes off to confirm that the lock is in place. The mail is the first thing to be tossed, it hits the counter with a soft ‘smack’, and next goes his keys, which were pulled from the left pocket of his trousers. With a sigh, Nico’s left hand runs over his face and once it reaches his chin, he looks forward and makes eye contact with you. 

“Hi, baby.” His accent is still prominent when he speaks, but you find it adorable. He starts walking towards in your direction, you toss the beige linen blanket off of your lap and rise from the couch in response. You take a total of 2 steps before Nico reaches you. Your arms find their place upon Nico’s shoulders almost immediately. His, upon your waist. A whiff of soft vanilla musk hits your nostrils, Nico took a shower at the arena rather than at home. 

“Congrats on the win, my love.” A soft smile forms upon your face. The win was a long time coming, Nico had been working his ass off the past week and it paid off tonight at the Prudential Center. 

“How many points, Schatz?” As Nico questions you, you attempt to break away from the hug but to no avail, Nico’s hands don’t plan on leaving your waist anytime soon. 

“Three, three points.” Your response leaves your mouth almost immediately.  You know where this was going, as promised before he left for the game against the Boston Bruins.

While Nico was picking out his suit for the arrival of today’s game, a quick thought appeared in your head. You stalk quietly behind him, he’s deciding between a classic black suit and a darker red, almost burgundy, tailored suit. Nico can feel your presence behind him, and he turns to face you. 

“I think the black one, no?” As he questions you, his right-hand raises. He’s holding a black tie, and in the other hand is a tie that matches the burgundy suit. You take a second before you give your input. The black suit was a classic but had already been worn, the burgundy has yet to be worn. It’s fairly new, Nico got it back in November but wanted to wait for the right moment to wear it. 

“Black but no tie, you’re going to take it off before you even get to the arena." Nico takes no time to face back in his original direction, taking the black suit that's draped on a wire curtain and returning to the bedroom. You follow suit, watching Nico place the suit on the bed. A soft 'thud' rings in the air when the suit hits the white linen comforter. Before Nico can take a step to head over to the dresser that sits just under the 55-inch flat Roku TV to put away his ties you cut him off with a question.

"Can we make a bet?" Nico reaches the dresser and pulls the drawer open, as he folds the ties he answers your question.

"What kind of bet, Schatz?"

You take a small breath before telling Nico the thought that had crossed your mind nearly minutes ago. "If you score or get any assists, you get to make me cum as how many times you do."

To your dismay, Nico isn't appalled by your suggestion, in fact, he almost challenges you.

"What do I get if I don't?" He's facing you now, hand resting against his hip. A smirk is spread across his lips, he's amused by your proposition. You pause since you didn't even get to think about what would happen if he didn't get any game points.

"I get to finally tie you up." You return his amusable smirk, two can play this game.

"I think we have a deal baby."

The soft squeeze against your hips brings you back from the semi-distance memory. You tilt your head up and look into Nico's dark chocolate-pooled irises, his face written in desire. Before you can form a proper thought, Nico's head tilts into your own and his lips are set against yours. The kiss is soft but as his lips entangle with yours it grows with need. His right hand surfaces up from your hip to cradle your jaw, keeping you in place. Nico deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue into your mouth, as much as you try to fight for it, he won’t let you win. He’s finishing something you started, determination is all that Nico is running off of. You run your left hand up his neck and rest it once your fingertips feel a light fuzz. Deciding to wait to play with the hair on the back of his neck, you’ll drive him crazy later. 

At the speed of a lightning strike, Nico picks you up by the waist with one arm, the other previously on your jaw, and finds its place against the back of your thigh. The skin exposed from the small floral shorts that Nico plans to discard later. Nico maneuvers the pair for you to the dining room and places you on top of the cool walnut-colored dining table. His lips finally escape yours, instantly finding themselves on your collarbone in record time. Nico places small kisses upwards on your neck and once they reach a spot they are all too familiar with, his teeth sink into the soft skin. A soft gasp leaves your mouth but then is conceded by a moan when Nico soothes the small ache by running his tongue over the semi-red spot. The sound released from the back of your throat goes straight down into Nico’s slacks. Your grip tightens against the back of Nico’s neck, never wanting him to stop. 

Nico quickly detaches himself from your neck to pull off the oversized New Jersey Devils crewneck that you wore. He takes a look at your chest and notices the lacy fabric that hugs the swell of your breasts. The 6’1 hockey player lowers himself to where his lips rest right above your ear and whispers, "You drive me fucking crazy, Schatz."

A blush forms across your cheeks as a response to Nico’s statement. Nico has finally had enough and decided to finally put himself useful to his bargain of the bet. He kneels in front of you, eyes connecting with your clothed core. A small wet spot appears on the floral-printed cotton shorts that rest against your hips. His hands come up from his lap and head towards the waistband of your shorts, he grunts to signify for you to lift your hips. Your hands help you steady yourself against the wooden table when you lift your hips so Nico can discard the main article of clothing you have on. Once Nico tosses your shorts and panties aside, he gets a hold of your right leg and lifts it to place it against his shoulder. Before he continues, Nico looks up at you, eyes connecting once again. You take notice how Nico’s pupils look inflamed, filled with lust.

Nico takes hold of the leg that's perched up against his shoulder and slowly starts to kiss his way up your leg. Starting at the base of your ankle to your inner thigh, never breaking eye contact. It’s crazy to think how Nico knows how to get you so hot and bothered quickly but you weren’t one to complain. Especially seeing him on his knees getting ready to devour you. 

Before Nico digs in for his midnight snack, he brings his hands to rest on your waist once again. He guides you to sit at the edge of the table. He finally has full access to your sweeping wet core and without a second left to spare, his mouth makes contact with your folds. He licks a stripe from your core to your clit. Your head tilts back and a low moan escapes your body like a prayer, as if Nico is the god you praise upon. 

Your right hand leaves its place against the table and immediately finds a refugee in Nico’s damp hair. Your fingers run through his rich deep brown locks, encouraging Nico to take a step further. Your hips buck closer to Nico’s mouth when he inserts his ring and middle finger into your mound. The pornographic moans that form from the soul of your chest are a symphony to Nico’s ears. Your hips start to grind into Nico’s mouth, he knows you're close. 

“Look at me, baby.” He pulls away from your clit, his fingers never leaving your mound. You obey, like a good girl. Nico’s tongue finds itself back onto your clit, in response a soft whimper leaves your mouth. The more Nico indulges into your mound, the more you can feel yourself falling apart. Your gummy walls start to contract and Nico knows you need one final push to get yourself on the leaderboard. With one final flick against your clit and stroke into your core, you come undone. Your body convulses, eyes flutter closed, and all you see is black. 

After a couple of seconds, you’re brought back to earth. Nico stands, towering over you, he’s licking his fingers clean of your juices. Once his ring and middle finger leave his mouth, he uses that hand to bring up a chair. It screeches against the tile of the floor. Before Nico sits on the chair, he removes his trousers. Carefully placing them on top of the dining room table. Once the chair is positioned right in front of you, he sits. His legs spread open, his hard length pressed against the soft fabric of his black boxer briefs. You still have yet to move from your spot on the edge of the table, legs still feeling like jelly after an earth-shattering orgasm. Nico opens his mouth to command one thing. 

“Come on, Schatz,” he pats his thigh, “You still have two more to go.” 

[stayonmars]

willy doing a panel at Sport Beach 2025 in Cannes (june 16)

[stayonmars]

"are you normal about-" no I'm an insane pervert