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theemporium · 7 months

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[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

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Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious.

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days after the party, with a message from you on his screen.

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours?

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality.

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy

hockey boy: and annoying

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance).

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.”

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.”

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?”

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?”

Jack snorted in response.

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted.

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves.

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day.

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it.

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out.

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?”

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.”

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.”

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again.

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice.

“Not sure.”

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?”

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?”

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him.

“Do I need to give you a curfew?”

“Fuck off!”

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode.

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted.

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside.

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it.

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?”

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.”

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you.

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.”

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated.

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion.

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.”

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.”

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze.

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?”

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.”

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born.

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.”

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words.

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?”

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused.

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again.

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?”

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?”

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.”

“My training?”

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.”

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinked. “You’re asking me?”

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.”

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer.

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you.

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss.

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow.

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again.

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?”

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod.

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.”

You raised your brows. “This good?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?”

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.”

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you.

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire.

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.”

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red.

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much.

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white.

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it.

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—”

“For what?”

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?”

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.”

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…”

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.”

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.”

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response.

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food.

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy.

It made his head spin, in a good way.

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you.

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend.

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised.

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend.

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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prettymonegasque · 8 months

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not acceptable

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do when your pretty boyfriend is a lil dumb

Warnings: Excessive cursing, Lando slander, grown men sharing a single brain cell, fluff?

Word Count: 1.3k

Based on my favourite scene in Schitt’s Creek

In all the two years you’ve been in Ferrari, the speculations and rumours of you dating Charles were non-stop. Neither of you paid much attention to it. You were both in happy relationships. However, that changed in the summer of ‘22 when you broke up with your partner. It wasn’t messy and you both agreed it was for the better. You focused on the rest of the season.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘23, you and Charles were both single. You decided to give in to the speculations and give the relationship a real shot. You went on a few dates, each one being more fun than the previous one. Yet neither of you took the leap to become exclusive. You both liked each other but it wasn’t said out loud as much as you would’ve wanted to. So when Charles invited you to a game night with his friends, you thought it would be the one where he introduced you as his girlfriend.

You knocked on his apartment door at 7 pm. You had brought a charcuterie board because you panicked and the first thing your mind thought was cheese.

“Y/N! Come in.” Charles opened the door and hugged you. You tried your best to return while managing the charcuterie board. He laughed at your struggle, took the board from your hand and led you in. You spotted some familiar faces in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Y/N. My teammate as you know.” To risk being dramatic, the only description for what you felt was “death by a thousand cuts”. You still forced a smile and greeted everyone. You took a seat on the sofa next to Charles. “You brought a charcuterie board?” Pierre asked puzzled. “Dibs on gouda.” Yelled a familiar Brit.

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

For the next few hours, you forced yourself to forget about your “teammate” and focus on the game instead. To everyone’s surprise, you were very good at Monopoly. You had already collected over $7000 worth of assets. You were more than happy to win by default. Arthur suggested Uno and everyone complied. You had never played it before which made the group very happy.

When you got your cards you leaned over to Charles and whispered “What the fuck should I do now? ” Charles peeked at your cards and by instinct you shied them away from him. “You have to show me the cards so I can tell you what to do.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and showed him the cards. “How the hell did you get 3 +4 cards?” “Why? Is that bad?” “No no. It is very good and I am very grateful my turn is before you.” “I am gonna crush these motherfuckers” You silently giggled.

“Y/N your turn,” Andrea called out. You placed the +4 card on the table. “Seriously?” Lando sighed and took 4 cards from the deck. “I thought you'd never played this before.” “I haven’t. I’m just that good, Norris.” “You know you could put all the +4 cards at once? ” Charles whispered in your ear. When your turn came again you placed both your +4 cards down. “Oh come on. You’re an absolute ass.” Lando exclaimed. “You just got destroyed by a UNO rookie, Lando” Pierre doubled over in laughter. “Also you have only one card left. You can call out UNO” Arthur nudged you. “UNO!” You yelled. “Well, I guess we have a winner. ” Lorenzo sighed and folded.

You started feeling a little guilty. Your winning spree kept cutting the game short. It didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Even if Charles isn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend, you still want his friends and brothers to like you as Charles’ girl. Charles brought in Scrabble as his last resort. He wasn’t expecting to go through 2 games so quickly. You were chosen as the judge. You promised yourself to go easy on everyone. You weren’t sure if you were making a good impression on everyone but boy did your ego love this.

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

“What do you mean ‘rizz’ isn’t accepted?” Arthur yelled. “Mate it isn’t in the dictionary.” “Then why does everyone call Lando ‘NoRIZZ’?” “Hey!” “I consider it as an acceptable word. We know the meaning. It exists. It’s a word.” You chimed in. “Thank you!” Arthur smiled and added 13 points to himself. The game continued and you limited yourself to simple words. And you accepted every word regardless of how ridiculous it was.

“Yes Pierre ‘Fuck’ is a word.”

“I mean we all know what ‘OMG’ is”

“Sure, Charles. You can make Frenglish words.”

You could physically feel the pain from the insanity of some words but you were on a mission. You nodded and smiled and carried on. The words became chaotic by the minute. Your last straw was when Lando argued that “Skibidi” should be accepted.

“That’s it. I can’t take this shit anymore. I respect the game too much to put up with this. You are way too old to use the word ‘Skibidi’, Lando.” “Yeah so wrong, Lando” Pierre fakes disappointment. “You! Fuck is not acceptable.” “Not acceptable. Yes sorry, Y/N” He bites back a laugh. “OMG!? Are you kidding me?” “I wasn’t.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “And my boyfriend sits there looking pretty and wanting to make up Frenglish words. THAT’S NOT EVEN A LANGUAGE. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Charles looked up at you. “I said Lando is old.” You tried to shift the conversation. “Why the fuck am I getting slandered?” “No. I think it was something about your boyfriend being pretty and making up words.” Charles redirects you. “Um... I don’t remember saying that.” You mumbled. “Yeah no. That’s what we heard. Right Arthur?” Pierre snickered.

“Hey if my girlfriend says Frenglish isn’t acceptable then it isn’t, guys” Charles smirked. “Or it is. I don’t remember saying it.” You shrugged. “So you can do whatever you like.” The ceiling looked much more interesting than the gorgeous green eyes looking at you. “I think our work is done here. Let’s go guys.” Lando stood up. “And what exactly was that work, Norizz?” You called out as everyone was walking out the door chattering. Lando just smiled at you and closed the door.

You and Charles remained quiet and just looked at each other for a long moment. “I don’t k-” “Do you r-” You both spoke at the same time. Gentle giggles echoed in the silence. “I was gonna ask if you regretted it?” Charles looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “No. God no. Charles, I don’t regret it at all. But to be honest, I kinda thought you hosted this game night to introduce me as your girlfriend. It sucked ass when you called me your teammate.” You looked down at your feet. You contemplated if sitting down would make this whole shebang less awkward. But Charles quietened your thoughts by standing up and taking your hands in his.

“Cherie, seconds before you knocked, I was having a full-blown panic attack. I really really like you and I wanted us to be official but I didn’t know what you felt. The guys were there for emotional support because I do not trust myself with any high-risk situation.”

“You drive a car at 300 km/hr almost every weekend.”

“Please. That is nothing compared to you. Every time I get in the cockpit, I’m more worried about your safety than mine. I was going to introduce you as my girlfriend. Trust me the word was on the tip of my tongue but I was being a pussy and chickened out. I’m so glad you did it tho.” His smile made those adorable dimples pop as he hugged you. “I’m so glad I did it too.” Your voice came out muffled with your cheek pressed against his chest.

“And I’m so glad you called me pretty.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #schitt's creek #schittscreekedit #netflix #fanfics #pretty monegasque

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caitlinsclark · 2 months

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BRIDGING THE GAP caitlin clark caitlin clark x reader | summary: caitlin can't seem to play nice with the newest rookie. based on this request and this request. ✰ bree's notes: I think this is my favorite fic beside casual so far omg.. enjoy my loves! ✰ part of my 500 follower celebration! word count: 3.0k masterlist and tag list

You and Caitlin had tried time and time again to click as friends, but it seemed that you couldn’t even click as teammates first. You’d been drafted to Fever a few rounds after her and your worries about playing with the girl were confirmed when her egocentric personality seemed to carry over off the court as well.

Her gameplay was extremely selfish at best, even if it was objectively good. You could acknowledge that she was impressive with the ball and had a good handle, but that didn’t mean she always deserved to have possession of it.

The budding resentment of what started as a few quick bitter quips seemed to come to a head during one of your first games, a win but a rough one at that.

The team wasn’t melded together yet and it showed on the court as you played like 5 individual players, not a team. Or a better way to describe it, one player and four alternates in case she got blocked by defense.

You and Caitlin hadn’t had many conversations prior to being drafted, but the world had already decided to pit you against one another despite your same team status.

As two women in the same year of the WNBA draft, people had flocked to negatively comparing you to the ‘great Caitlin Clark’. You’d never even claimed to be as good as her, but people prompted that claim on their own, arguing as to why you were more flawed than their princess.

So you weren’t surprised when your pent up frustration started to break through during one of her “ego streaks” as you called it.

“Great teamwork, ladies,” Caitlin had cheered and it set something off in you, because that was not a demonstration of teamwork. As a lover of the game, you couldn’t rely on one team member to win the game the way you all had been forced to.

“Teamwork? You hogged the ball the entire last half!” You pointed out upon making it back to the locker room, unable to just enjoy the win, “I was open for a pass ninety percent of the time and you still took the shot every opportunity.” Your words weren't meant to argumentative, just somewhat disappointed.

The girls all sighed, glancing at one another knowingly as the two voices of their teammates began to grow defensive. This was a reoccurrence that would eventually lead to them locking you guys in a room, but for now it was simply a small nuisance.

Caitlin had a smirk on her face at your frustration, feeding off the fire you ignited, “Because I knew I could make it when I shot.” Her arrogance wasn’t for show, it seemed genuine. And it bothered you to no end that she seemed to purposely miss the point.

The fact that she seemed to believe you couldn't make it struck a nerve. You had never given her a reason to doubt your abilities, yet she continued to.

“And you missed.” You corrected, matching her smugness, “Won’t be hearing all about your logo three’s all over ESPN, oh boo hoo and the world still spun.” A deadpanned expression took over your face.

The brunette remained as confident as ever, “And yet we still got a win.” She shrugged carelessly, not bothered by your words yet.

“A win for the team?” You’d questioned thoughtfully, “or a win for you?”

And you’d got her, because at the end of the day she still felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Caitlin hadn’t been ready to integrate into the dynamics of not being the best player on the court.

You were proven right when the opposite had happened, she played an awful game yet the team still won. That nagging voice in her head that said it wasn’t enough because she hadn’t played well.

You’d accurately called her out, she wasn’t ready to give up the control that she got comfortable with in her college career. And you weren’t ready to back down and give her any control at all. The animosity had slowly built up over time, stubbornness was your enemy, stopping you from bridging that gap that grew over time and insults exchanged.

That’s what had you sitting at the celebratory team dinner, uncharacteristically silent as you were put across from Caitlin. The tension was palpable and took up a suffocating amount of the table.

Even Caitlin’s date had caught on to the overwhelming glares that the brunette had been staring at you with, something so intense that it could’ve been mistaken for lust.

You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom, feeling yourself turn red under the amount of attention that had been targeted at you since the start. Fanning yourself lightly, you entered the stall.

“Dude, the girls she brought along. Oh my god, they’re so hot,” You heard the familiar voice of Caitlin’s date from underneath the stall next to you. Normally Caitlin’s name would make you tune out the following words, but you kept listening.

“I don’t know anything about basketball but these girls are so fine, dude. I think I picked the wrong one to go after, I gotta make a new move.”

The words shocked you, not holding any sort of joking factor, as if she were bringing up a previous conversation based on fact.

You were washing your hands when she exited the stall, you expected even a look of shock or some kind of indication that she knew she had been caught.

But she simply washed her hands, sent you a friendly smile, and made her way out of the bathroom with a smug grin. And you knew that bitch was under the impression that you’d let her walk away without a word.

Weighing your options, you could stay quiet and let Caitlin get her karma for all the times her arrogance blinded her from the facts right in front of her. Or you could risk an awkward tension and try to appeal to the humanistic side of her. You snorted at your own thoughts, her and an existing “humanistic side”, comical.

Your feet carried you back to the table where all your friends resided, then Caitlin and her date. The blonde who had spent the night clung to Caitlin had her back turned, talking to Aliyah with zeroed in attention. You scoffed at the sight of Caitlin sitting silently, tapping her fingers on the table as she only listened.

“So, Debra,” You folded your hands under your chin and turned your body to face the girl Caitlin came with. You had captured the attention of the whole table, and that was your goal.

“Demi,” She corrected hesitantly, glancing at Caitlin in the side of her eye uncomfortably and you couldn’t help but give a smug grin at the rattled look on her face.

The brunette across from you was burning holes into your head as she attempted to figure out what game you could be playing. You were always an instigator after all.

You ignored the glare from Caitlin, determined in questioning the blonde beside her, “What’s your favorite WNBA team?”

The way she gave your teammates a flirty grin had you ill, “Fever.”

You gave her a faux friendly smile, “Beside Fever, of course?”

The rest of the team looked to her for an answer, expecting an enthusiastic one considering she had raved about how big of a fan she was of the WNBA, all while clinging to Caitlin’s arm earlier. You’d rolled your eyes when she showered the brunette in compliments that lacked any real knowledge of the game. If you were gonna compliment a great player, at least mention her accomplishments. You’d bitterly thought to yourself as you ran over a hundred other better things to compliment Caitlin on.

Debra, Demi, whatever she was, she looked like a fish out of water anyway at the simple question, she didn’t need a name.

Her eyes narrowed at you, but everyone else at the table sat back amused. Beside Caitlin who was more focused on your interrogating than her date’s answering.

“I really like that Statue of Liberty team.”

You watched in a sick form of satisfaction as Caitlin’s face fell, a slight groan leaving her mouth. Jackpot.

The entire table went silent and you felt NaLyssa grip your arm with a tightness that required so much control to stop yourselves from laughing.

You nodded, your lips unable to stop from tilting up as you spoke, “Yeah, I love that one. Go Statue of Liberty.” You raised your glass in a cheer, chugging it down after.

The brunette athlete stood up from the table with an attitude that caught everyone’s attention, pivoting and beelining for the bathroom.

You stood up in a moment of frustration and followed her, feeling the urge to prove she had no right to get angry at you. The alcohol coursing through your veins had a little bit of an encouraging push to confront it.

You grabbed Caitlin’s arm as she passed you to go into the bathroom, ignoring the disgust (sparks) you felt when you made skin to skin contact.

Her eyes ran over your features, refusing to be the first to speak. You hated that you let your glance own trail over her face too, but she was hot when she was mad. You were stubborn, not blind.

“You need to tell that bench hopper to get out of here,” Your approach wasn’t amazing in your drunken haze but it was spoken with a genuine honesty, “She was just in the bathroom saying she ‘made the wrong choice’ about which player she came here with.”

You knew the two of you didn’t get along, that there was animosity when you tried to talk. But you figured the same way you had respect for her, she had respect for you deep down.

You weren’t expecting Caitlin to scoff in amusement, in fact it somewhat hurt the lengths she’d go to not believe you.

She wiped the tears underneath her eyes dramatically, formed from her laughter, “Are you sure you couldn’t handle someone actually complimenting me? Is it exhausting not having the spotlight?”

“You’re the one who can’t live without it,” You reminded with a roll of your eyes and crossed arms, frustration building up at her ignorance, “But really? You think I’m making this up to take you away from your date? What would that gain me?”

Caitlin shrugged like there was no other option, “You’re a loud mouth when it comes to critiquing everything about my game, wouldn’t surprise me if it extended to my love life too.” She herself knew the words were a weak connection as she said them, but something in her pushed against you defiantly no matter the topic. A need to keep the conversation going to keep your attention, even if it was an argument.

“Oh my god,” You laughed incredulously, turning your back to her, “I can’t wait for you to realize how dumb you sound.”

The end of the argument came easier than it normally did and left Caitlin standing alone by the door. She couldn’t pinpoint why part of her felt empty at the way you conceded, the way you didn’t care to ignite the fire further and entertain her back.

Caitlin just felt like an asshole when it was her hopelessly lighting a match to a burnt out flame.

You hadn’t returned to the table, in fact you went to sit outside and get some air just to get away from her. Caitlin tried to keep her eyes on Debra, fuck Demi. God, she rolled her eyes as you managed to still mess with her head all the way from outside.

Though her eyes continued to fall naturally back on your figure on the curb in front of the restaurant, protectively to make sure you were still there when she had looked away.

NaLyssa, Aliyah, and Lexie had done more talking to her date than she had by the end of the night, resulting in a very awkward goodbye. Caitlin practically brushed the girl off, waving goodbye when she left without a promise of calling again.

The athletes still sat at the table, all trying their best not to stare at Caitlin as she almost ogled you unknowingly. The tall girl was fidgeting with her ring, mind running a million miles an hour as she processed the fact that you were right, about everything.

“You’ve spent more time staring at her than you did with your date,” Aliyah said to Caitlin gently, pointing out something that she was too scared to do herself.

The brunette sighed and looked at her friends who all had similar expressions, “She tried to warn me. About Debra.” The name didn’t even feel necessary to correct this time, but Caitlin still cringed at her own slip up.

“Now, I wonder why she would do that,” Lexie gasped and turned her head toward Caitlin’s other teammates who dramatically followed in suit, “No idea, why would she worry about someone using you? Or get passionate about you not thinking she was equal? Or get upset over-“ The girls continued spewing off the many instances where you two had gotten caught in a fit of passion to argue.

The pale girl had no choice but to groan, knowing that the girls were right. And she tried to ignore their cheers as she swallowed her pride, and entire drink, and walked outside where you sat.

“She was using me.” Caitlin sat net to you on the curb slowly, the street lights casting a glow over her face. You tried not to internalize the fact that this was the closest the two of you had ever gotten.

“I heard her talking to someone else as she left, you were right.”

Her slumped shoulders and big sigh formed a tell tale sign of admitting defeat, waving a white flag between your competitive bodies.

After calming down significantly by sitting outside, you couldn’t help but feel bad for the brunette who was just going along with her heart at the end of the day.

But you couldn’t help but remind her one last time, “Told you.” The words didn’t hold their usual taunting or ego that they normally would during your bickering.

Caitlin allowed herself to laugh, and you allowed yourself to admire her while she did so, “Yeah, you did.” She shook her head disappointedly, her eyes seeming far away as she stared out at the lights.

You’d never heard her agree with you in such defeat, it wasn’t as satisfying as you expected it to be. You expected to jump up and down at the revelation, but how it was invoked didn’t settle correctly within you.

“I’m not happy that I was right,” You voiced, laying your cheek on your folded up knees to look at her instead. There was a lightness in the air and in your voice that Caitlin wanted to bottle up and save for when it disappeared.

Caitlin rose her eyebrows playfully at you, a much more lighthearted environment that neither of you had explored with another before.

Her voice carried a level of shock that seemed real, “Really? I thought you’d be all too ready to write it and date the time I was wrong in your ‘I Hate Caitlin’ journal.”

Her elbow hit your side teasingly and you found yourself feeling free enough to genuinely laugh in her presence, a kind of relief you hadn’t experienced before.

“Nah,” you waved off, matching her tone, “You don’t admit you’re wrong enough to need a full journal, maybe an index card.”

And where she’d normally get offended, she couldn’t help but bark out a laugh again, leaning onto you in a way that felt surprisingly normal.

You didn’t shy away from it, in fact reputable sources (your teammates watching like it was a movie from inside) might’ve said they saw you lean right back into her.

“I don’t think I could do well with someone who fed my ego like that anyway,” She played off as she leaned back on her hands, muscles flexing unintentionally, “I like girls who keep me in check, knock my ego down a little.”

You shook your head knowingly, smirking at the ground, “I wonder where you could find such a loud mouth like that.” The reference to earlier made you both look away shyly.

“You’re an amazing player,” Caitlin voiced and you didn’t have it in you to question where it’d come from. You were too busy flustered under her praise. You’d whispered a small ‘Thank you’ that she cherished and decided she’d do anything to hear again. Even if it meant swallowing her ego and tearing down herself to compliment you.

“Am I really a huge ball hog?” Caitlin dared to ask in the rare serenity of your presence, hoping to get a genuine answer this time. You giggled as you looked at her, she couldn’t control her own smile as she looked back.

“Yeah, kinda.” You clapped your hands together as you shook with laughter, enjoying the filterless conversation that didn’t seem to have consequences. You might’ve even said you liked talking to her this way.

She let her head fall forward in mock defeat, “Yeah, I am.” She agreed, allowing herself to be the butt of the joke but her shaking shoulders as she giggled told you she didn’t mind. And it made her so much more attractive in your eyes.

You stopped to lay your hand on her shoulder, a touch she tried to solidify the feeling of in her memory, “But what you do while being a ball hog is pretty impressive sometimes.” The small teasing smile returned, but Caitlin didn’t mind this time.

Your hand slid down her arm in a soft caress, finding a resting place on her hand.

The two of you sat on the curb side by side, glimmering city lights representing a bright and hopeful new beginning. Not only as teammates, but maybe even more. Connected by your hands, a new bridge between the gap in your opposing personalities.

And she couldn’t help but ponder how a single compliment from you meant more than the stream of compliments she’d gotten from her date that night.

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sweetbans29 · 2 months

Text

Support - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You are an advocate for Caitlin's W transition (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 5.1k

Sweetban Masterlist

AN: The request was very specific and I am going to be honest, I did not follow it to a T but I hope you enjoy!

"Hey CC, you better hurry up the game is starting," Jada yells from the couch. Caitlin taps the microwave in hopes that will speed up the popcorn. It doesn't.

Cait hurridly puts the chocolate chip cookies on a plate, cursing as she keeps burning her hand on the cookie sheet that she just pulled from the oven. She places the last cookie on the plate, grabs the popcorn bag, and scurries to the living room with the other girls.

The team had just finished a summer training session and booked it back to Caitlin's place to watch the game. It was one they all had been talking about for weeks.

"You know one of you could have helped me," Caitlin says passing the popcorn to Jada and placing the plate of cookies on the table. A swarm of hands comes to grab them, leaving 2 on the plate.

"You didn't ask," Jada says like it was a fact, and Caitlin rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, we'll help next time," Kate says as she finishes her cookie.

"Yeah, whatever," Caitlin says as the game tips off.

"CC, my popcorn is burnt," Jada whines as she tries to pick through the burnt pieces.

Caitlin doesn't respond, her eyes glued to the screen as you make your first appearance in 11 months.

You were the first pick in the 2021 draft, there was no question about it. You had led your team to two championships, back to back. There wasn't much left you felt you needed to do at a college level and declared for the draft. The NY Liberty getting first overall pick made the decision a no-brainer.

When you were drafted, you were in the best physical shape of your life. Tired, yes, but more ready than you have ever been for the jump to the W. Getting to NY and starting in training camp confirmed even more that this was the right decision for you. When games started, you realized that the transition was way more than you had expected. The physicality yes, but the mental transition was even harder. You went from a near-perfect season your senior year to losing what felt like every other game.

You were only 7 games into the season when the worst happened. It was during an away game in Minnesota when you went down and you went down hard. The pop in your left knee was something you were trying hard to ignore but the scream you let out was anything but ignorable. When it happened the whole arena went silent as you made your way off the court - only accepting help when you got to the tunnel. After a few scans, you learned you had torn your ACL, officially taking you out of your rookie season.

Caitlin remembers watching the game when it happened. If Cait were honest, she had been watching your game since you entered college. She watched your freshman year as your game immediately translated into a college setting. She watched as they built a team around you your sophomore year, already anticipating playing you when she becomes a Hawkeye. Then your senior year, her freshman year, when your team knocked out hers in the Sweet Sixteen.

It was in Caitlin's freshman year when you had been posted up against her - playing elite defense and causing Cait to have the single worst game in her college career thus far. She went back and reviewed the tape multiple times to see what had caused her to become so shaken. As she watches it, she realizes several things.

First off, you put your head down and do the work. She rarely sees you arguing with the refs when a call doesn't go your way. She actually finds it comical how your teammates go up questioning the ref or trying to explain how what her team did was a foul and you just jogged to the other end of the court.

Second, she noticed how calm you were while playing. You handled the ball like you were playing a pick-up game with some friends. It was mesmerizing to Caitlin. So often she felt like she played all over the place, and if she were to watch herself it was obvious, but when she watched you - you never once seemed jarred.

Third, your vision is similar to hers. She can only assume you see what she sees. Your vision on the court and IQ for the game is one that she hopes to continue working at. As Cait watches you scout out the floor, you don't always go with what she would expect or do herself. It was almost like a game of chess to you. If you saw the defense react a certain way, you would adjust and get them thinking you were going one way when really you would get everyone to shift, waiting until the last second to show your hand. That is what got under Caitlin's skin during the game. It was almost as if you were baiting her and were playing a head game with her. It was most obvious when you were on defense and were able to pick apart her offensive strategy. It was almost like you knew what Caitlin was going to do before she knew it.

The last thing she noticed had nothing to do with the game, and she almost missed it the first four times she watched the tape, but it was the way she caught herself looking at you. Caitlin throughout the whole game was stealing glances of you. She thinks back to the game and feels herself start to blush. She remembers how your cheeks would tint red and how you stood there with your hands on your hips when something was taking too long. She remembers how your team would gravitate to you because she also wanted to. She remembers how after playing a whole game, when you were giving high-fives, you looked over and smiled at her - your eyes looking directly into hers until she finally broke the contact. She realized that not only was she swayed by your game but she took a particularly deep liking to you.

As Caitlin sits with her team watching your first game back, yes she is watching you because it is your comeback game but also because since she has realized she has taken a particular liking to you, she wants to watch you nonstop.

You take the court and isn't the game you want as your first one back but you are back. You are still figuring out how to move on the court with the adjustment of a weaker knee but know that will come with time. To anyone watching, you looking good as new but you know your game is different - so does Caitlin.

You end the game going 12/4/8 with 2 steals and a block. You aren't super happy but you know you are your biggest critic. You also have to remember this is the first game of the season. After the game, you check your phone to see messages from a handful of people congratulating you, responding to them all with some sort of reaction you open Instagram and scroll. Any time you see anything about you, you scroll right past it.

You stop on a post about the winner of the Dawn Staley Award winner. You see it went, for the second time, to Caitlin Clark - a guard out of Iowa. You wrack your brain and remember playing her in college, she is a solid player. It is tough that she has won the award back to back her freshman and sophomore years. You post the achievement to your story with the caption '1-of-1'. You then click on her profile and give her a follow before locking your phone and heading to the post-presser.

Caitlin gets a notification and immediately stands up. When the game ended, the girls didn't move and kept snacking on whatever was in front of them. Cait is the first one to move.

"Woah, are you okay there?" Kate asks grabbing Caitlin's calf. Kate's sitting right next to Caitlin and lost balance when the girl decided to stand up without any sort of notice.

Caitlin didn't know what to say as she just stared at the notification of you following her. She shows Kate.

"Holy shit, there is no way," Kate says looking at her phone. "That is sick."

The other girls are asking what happened and Kate tells them that you followed Caitlin. Cait sits back down and taps on your story only to see a photo of her. She sits there with a stupid smile on her face. You know who she is. You know who Caitlin is. You posted about her winning an award right after you just took the first dub of the season.

Caitlin tries not to let it get to get head considering you are a pro and she still had two (possibly three) more years in college but that is hard to do when the player she is crushing on now knows who she is.

Time flies when you are having fun. At least that is what Caitlin tells herself as she has just played in her last college game. What a time it has been for her. She brought her team to the championship game twice but fell short both times, never being named with a title. She is now headed to the WNBA draft and will likely go first, making her way to Indiana.

The transition is fast and before she knows it, she is moving in to an apartment in Indianapolis and preparing for training camp. When games begin, she feels like she hasn't received a break in what feels like a year. In reality, it has only been six months but the amount of play she has had both in her senior year and entering the W is overwhelming.

The thing is - Caitlin would never outright say she is overwhelmed, rather just swallow it and keep going. She may not say anything but her body language and eyes tell the story.

You on the other hand have started the season out on fire. Your mindset for this year was redemption. Over the last two years, your game wasn't where you had wanted it to be coming out of college and coming back from a major injury but where you are now is a much better place than you were before. The year you came back from injury, your game was anything but great. You had the worst season you had ever had playing, including the very first year you started with the sport. It was downright embarrassing but that is what drove you to be where you are now. It may have taken longer than anyone had expected but you have arrived.

It is a few games in when you are asked about the rookie guard.

"What are your thoughts on Caitlin Clark? She has been struggling in her transition and many people have been comparing it to your start in the W," one reporter asks. You smile and let out a little chuckle.

"You all love to pick apart a player when they're down, don't you," you begin and your media manager is in the back corner giving you a death stare. When it comes to the media, you have never had a problem calling them out. Unlike you on the court where you just put your head down and play, when it comes to how the media depicts players - well that is something you don't stand for.

"You need to give the girl some space to breathe. I feel like every time I open Twitter it is a huge rookie feast and it's not cool. It is like the world has forgotten they just got done playing their asses off in March and now you expect them to come into a league, freshly adapted to a different game," you say and continue before anyone can cut you off. "It was just a few days ago when I saw something circulating about how these rookies are facing a rude awakening and I laughed. I laugh because people are not looking at the whole picture. Looking at her box score is not a fair assessment of her game. I've been able to catch a few of the Fever games and yes, they have room to grow but all of our teams do. Do you all see the way she is running the floor? Have you looked into how many times she touches the ball? Like, come on, her vision of the game is the same as it was in college - she is now, alongside a team, are both learning how to adapt to play with her. You all may not say she is coming in and dominating but just watch - she will have you all stunned by the Olympic break - use that a headline."

You glance back at your media manager and they have they are rubbing their eyes as their head shakes back and forth. You personally don't think you have said anything out of line but you know you'll get an earful for something. And you do but not as badly as you thought you would.

On the other side of things, Caitlin gets out of a game where she went 8/5/9. She got in her head and stayed there. She gets out of her own post-presser to see a link from Jada.

When Caitlin opens it, she sees you with the headline '[Clark] will have everyone stunned by Olympic break'. Caitlin quickly opens the link and watches you talk. A smile can't help but make its way to her face as you call the media out and speak praises about her.

'Just wait until you see this game, if you see this game', Caitlin thinks as she flinches again at the thought of her efficiency this last game. The link is followed by Jada being Jada.

[Jadaaa: Your girl's got your back, think you can work up the nerve to talk to her when you face off in a few weeks?]

Caitlin knows the younger girl is joking but the feeling that swells in the pit of her stomach thinking about talking to you has her feeling sick.

As much as Caitlin doesn't want to think about you, she does. She can't help it. The last time she faced up against you, you handed her the single worst game she has ever played and in her mind, she wants to show you what she's got.

Little to her knowledge, you were also looking forward to your match-up against the rookie. It has been years since you played against her and look forward to seeing how she has grown. Also, to see how you two match up in the W.

The game finally comes, too slowly in Caitlin's eyes but finally here.

You are the first one on the court. It's not unusual for anyone who knows you but when Caitlin walks out, she stops dead in her tracks. She should have known you would be on the court already but she was so used to being the first one out that it never occurred to her that there would be someone else out there with her.

Caitlin makes her way out and begins to warm up herself. She wants to go over and talk to you but chooses to keep stealing glances. Soon enough, the whole team is out doing a shoot around and the opportunity has passed.

The game is about to begin as the teams take the floor. You go over and hug one of Cait's teammates and high-five the others. When you make your way to Caitlin, everything moves in slow motion for the younger girl.

You come up to her, wrapping one of your arms around her waist. You lean in and whisper something only she can hear.

"Have fun today, it's just you and me on the court - forget about everyone else, and let's have some fun." You tell her.

Caitlin smiles and nods as her cheeks heat up from your closeness. You pat her lower back and get positioned.

The game is a battle.

You play like you have been since the beginning of the season. You hit your double-double in the third quarter and are working towards a triple-double, which would be the second one of the season if you get there.

Cait is also playing better than she has yet and you can even see a little smile come out every now and again.

It is in the fourth when the two of you are standing next to each other during one of your team's free throws.

"Having fun?" You ask.

"Actually, I am," she says, surprising herself with her answer.

"It will get more fun, just wait and see. You're getting there C," you say and she smiles.

"I actually want to tha-" Caitlin begins but is cut short when your teammate knocks down both free throws and the ball is back in the Fever's possession.

The fourth quarter finishes and your team had come out on top by just 2 points. The closest game of the season thus far. It was probably the most fun you had in a game since you got to the W.

In the post-presser, you are asked about the rookie guard again.

"Now that you have faced Caitlin firsthand, what are some challenges you see in her game?" a male reporter asks.

You flat-out laugh at the question.

"You're kidding me, right?" You say and you already see your media manager waving her hands in the air to stop whatever it is you are about to say.

"I am tired of you guys hounding her into the ground. She played a tremendous game today - what was it, another double-double for the rookie? What more does she have to do to show you all she is already dominating in the W? This is midway through her first season playing the sport professionally. She is already doing the damn thing. What you all should be asking is how much more capable is she? If she is doing this in her first year, what will she be doing next year? In 2 years? 5? Like come on, she is already playing better than any of you could so I don't know why we are still talking about what she can't do," you say and stand, tired of their stupid questions.

You are on your way out when you add one last thing.

"Caitlin Clark is a force of nature. She is one of one, I said it about her in college and I will say it again with her in the W. She is unlike anyone we have seen before and you should all be more concerned with how high her ceiling is versus how low to the ground she stands."

You walk out and wait for your media manager to rip you another new one. You don't care and just take it.

When you get back to your hotel, you ignore all the things you are tagged in and open Caitlin's profile.

[You: Hey, this may seem out of the blue but I wanted to let you know I am on team Caitlin. You know the media spins things but keep your head down and play your game and they will see. I've been where you are, I know the media is a circus. Feel free to call or text if you need anything]

You follow your first message with a second that contains your number. It was a little bold and your motives are pure, mostly.

No one asked but if they did, you would tell them that you remember playing Caitlin in college. You remember how your one and only match-up was one of the toughest of your college career. You would speak to how you have followed her ever since, catching every game you could when she played. You were just as mesmerized as she was and neither of you had a clue.

Cait gets back to her apartment and falls on her bed. She unlocks her phone for the first time since the game, a rare occasion but she doesn't want anything to do with what the media was saying about her after that game.

Similarly to when you first followed her, she shoots up to a sitting position on her bed. She scans the message a thousand times.

Caitlin, who was just tired is now wide awake and smiling. She cannot believe her favorite player (and crush) has just given her phone number.

Her phone begins to go crazy in an old team group chat.

[Jadaaa: CAITLIN FREAKIN CLARK]

Jada then sends a link to another post-game presser.

[KMoney: Bro, it is your game to lose now. She's pro-Clark]

[Stulke: I'll start planning the wedding!]

[Caitlin: I bet you can't guess who just got her number 🫣]

[Jadaaa: SHUT UP]

[Stulke: Yep, wedding planning in progress]

[KMoney: I call dibs on making a speech]

[Jadaaa: Get in line Kate, I am getting first speech]

[Caitlin: Shut up]

Caitlin debated sending you a message but decided to wait until the morning. When Caitlin wakes up, she shoots you a text.

[C: Hi...I want to say thank you for always defending me. You really don't have to but I appreciate it]

[C: It's Caitlin btw]

[C: Caitlin Clark if that wasn't clear]

Caitlin feels like an idiot after she texts three times in a row. She locks her phone and throws her head into her pillow with a groan when she hears a 'ding'. She pulls her phone up to her face.

[You: I thought you weren't going to message]

[You: It's cute that you felt the need to put your first and last name]

[C: Didn't want to get mixed up with someone else]

[C: I don't know how often you hand out your number]

[You: Not often]

[You: So...who is Caitlin Clark?]

The two of you messaged pretty consistently. Messages turned to phone calls, phone calls turned to Facetimes then before you knew it you both were talking about anything and everything.

Caitlin's season has gotten better as the Fever as a team has grown, winning more games in a stretch than losing.

It is a few games later after a win that Caitlin is sitting in a post-presser with Aliyah. An interviewer asks if Caitlin has seen the clips of you talking about her in her post-pressers.

Caitlin blushes and looks down, trying to hide her rosy cheeks. Aliyah chuckles and nudges the girl who is now covering her uncontrolled smile with a towel.

"Ya...I've seen them," she says as she removes the towel to show her smile. "I think it is pretty cool how she stands up for me. I have been watching her for years now and love her game so it means a lot when she speaks of me with such grace."

"Ya, I've caught CC watching that presser probably five times now," Aliyah says throwing Caitlin to the wolves. Someone's got to do it right?

Caitlin playfully pushes Aliyah.

"Way to out me," Caitlin says and hides her face again.

There aren't many more questions asked and Caitlin feels like she is in the clear. That is until she gets a call from you.

"Hi," she says with a smile. She doesn't know it but you can tell by her tone when she is smiling.

"Five times, five times is a lot C," you tease her.

She is glad you aren't standing in front of her because the blush that had subsided from the presser is fully back. The truth is that she watched it 15+ times now.

"What can I say? I like watching people praise me," she says trying to speak with confidence.

"Isn't that cute," you say.

"And you are the one who is calling me right after I get out of a presser and you are calling me obsessed?" Caitlin asks.

"That's fair, I won't call next time," you say and Caitlin immediately says 'no'. You laugh and she is thankful you can't see how fast her face turned red.

The conversation is light and flirty before she has to go.

"I'll see you at All-Star weekend," you say, and are looking forward to seeing the rookie. It would be another fun match-up with you being on the Olympic team and her being an All-Star.

"I look forward to kicking your ass," she says, the confidence in her voice dominating over the phone.

You laugh and give her some nonsense response. You've learned she wouldn't talk a big game to the public but when it was just the two of you, that's a completely different story. To you, she talks a big game and you let her. You know she has the game to back it up but you also know you have the ability to slow her down and that is exactly what the plan is for your next meeting.

The weekend arrives and the fun begins. You are included in the starting lineup for the Olympic team while Caitlin is in the starting lineup for the All-Stars.

Your eyes meet hers and you smile. She returns it as you walk up to her. You greet her.

"You ready?" You ask as you pinch at her hip. She swats your hand and shakes her head but your hands are persistent.

"Oh I am more than ready," she says trying to hide her smile.

"Why don't we put a little skin in the game," you say as you lean into her.

"I win, I get to take you out," you say and Caitlin feels a heat rise in her.

"And what do I get if I win?" She chokes out.

"Whatever. You. Want," you say. Caitlin smirks.

"You're on," she says as the two of you shake on it.

The two of you go head-to-head in the game. Caitlin plays one of the best games she has in the W so far. You take note of how hard the girl is working but you also put in the work, having quite the game yourself.

In the final minutes, the score is tied. Your teams switch off points as the seconds wind down.

You have control of the ball, trying to set up the play. Caitlin is guarding you - poking her hand in to try to get the ball away from your hands. You turn and use the screen that Stewie sets up for you, stepping back you put up the three. As you come down, Cait gives you a little push causing you to fall to the ground but you just catch sight of the ball bouncing on and then out of the rim.

Caitlin then proceeds to stand over you, in the heat of the moment, showing you and the crowd that she is tough.

You get to your feet and bump her chest - exchanging a few words.

Someone comes and pushes you back from Cait while they grab Caitlin's arm but you don't back down, bumping Caitlin again.

By now both of your teams have gotten involved and the refs are trying to separate the two of you. As you feel yourself being pulled back you blow Caitlin a kiss.

You both receive techs.

In the final few seconds, all you have to do is not foul and play solid defense which you do, making Caitlin pass it for the final shot that doesn't fall. Team USA taking the victory.

As you celebrate with the team on the court, you also go and hug your opponents from the night making a conscious decision to end with Cait.

When you go in to hug her, you can tell she is moody.

"I'm picking you up at 10 tonight, be ready," you say and wink at her.

As much as Caitlin wanted to win, she couldn't help but be excited.

Once everyone clears out and makes their way back to the hotel, you quickly shower and head to pick Cait up.

When you get to her door and knock, she answers within seconds.

"Someone is a little eager," you joke and she blushes.

"Well it's 10:20 so technically you're late," she says.

You laugh.

"Okay C, come on," you say and lead her on a walk. The two of you talk and she opens up about her experience so far, asking you questions left and right. You answer every single one of them.

"Where are you taking me?" She asks, half expecting the two of you to just stay in her room.

"Patience, we are almost there," you say as you make a turn and Caitlin sees it.

You have brought her to an outdoor court. It is dimly lit and there is a single basketball laying on one side.

You jog to pick up the ball and she walks over to you.

"I just had the best game of my career so far and you want me to play more?" She asks trying to sound annoyed but she isn't annoyed at all.

"Thought we could play a little one-on-one," you say bouncing the ball between your legs before passing it to her. You can tell she is a little skeptical but goes along with it. She begins to bounce the ball and your hand immediately finds her hip, giving it a squeeze like you did before the last game. The same blush as before rose in her cheeks. She works her way around you but your arms wrap around her waist not letting her go anywhere.

"Foul," she yells as you pick her up with her still holding the ball.

"This isn't a normal game babe," you say and she gets the hint. You put her down, still standing right behind her with your hands on her hips. "Take a shot," you whisper in her ear as your lips graze her neck.

Caitlin swallows and puts up the shot missing it.

"That's not fair," she says turning around.

"Better luck next time," you say bringing your hand to graze her cheek. Your eyes go from her eyes down to her lips as you lean in painfully slow.

Caitlin grabs your shirt and anticipates your lips on hers. When they never come, she pouts.

You run to grab the ball and pass it to her again.

"No bucket, no kiss," you say and you can see her demeanor change.

Caitlin locks in.

"Oh it's on," she says as she is ready for the one-on-one action.

AN: Here you go! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark concepts #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark masterlist

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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

Text

😈Track 4 - I Did Something Bad

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Alex was standing by the iconic bright blue garage. It was almost time for the rest of the grid to arrive for testing, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was George’s post from three days ago. The paddle game and its players were still a mystery to him.

Who has George playing with? And why hadn’t he told him?

Weren’t they supposed to be best friends?

The Thai rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the numerous comments about how the two other players must have been Logan Sargeant and Y/n L/n. And if they were the players then that must mean that they will be the new Lamborghini drivers.

He scoffed out loud. “As if.”

“As if what?” a French voice sounded. Alex turned to look at his new rookie teammate. He tried to give the twenty-year-old a smile. He held up his phone, but the screen had gone dark Theo didn’t need to know that Alex was trying to find gossip like a middle-schooler.

“Just fan theories,” he muttered, opening his phone back up and exiting out of Instagram and back to his messages. His eyes widened as he read through the chat.

Theo’s eyebrow arched. “What’s wrong?”

“George wants us over by the media pen. We got to go.”

The two Williams drivers both started to quickly walk. Alex weaved through the crowds, turning back once every so often to see if Theo was still with him. For half a second, he remembered how he would just leave Logan to fend for himself. The American was often late getting to places because he didn’t know where anything was. At the time, Alex had said that he wasn’t responsible for his teammate.

But now as he was navigating the big crowds at Bahrain, he wished he had spent a little more time with Logan, making sure that he was ok.

However, that was in the past and Alex couldn’t waste time on it. Theo was his teammate now and Logan was off doing who-knows-what. On the inside, he was hoping to never run into the blond again. The American was just another sign of his mistakes.

He always believed that he was the superior of the two, often questioning James as to why Logan hadn’t been replaced farther into the season like Nyck had been.

The team principal always rolled his eyes at Alex.

“It’s because we aren’t Red Bull. We don’t want to drop Logan like Red Bull dropped you.”

That had stung, but Alex always internally laughed. Logan was inevitably dropped by Williams, just like he had been with Red Bull. The only difference is that Alex stayed and extended his contract. Was this how Max Verstappen felt?

Alex was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the back of someone and rammed into them.

“Oh, hey mate.”

Speak of the devil.

“Hi Max,” he greeted back, rubbing his chest. “Did your back get bigger or have you always been this broad.”

Max winced at the inuendo. Wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be a string bean like Alex or George could be.

“Ah, Albono, no need to be jealous that Max can probably bench press more than you.”

The Dutchman internally smiled at the familiar Monegasque voice. Charles had made his way over the moment that Alex ran into Max.

Theo was right next to Alex still, reminding Charles of a lost puppy. He didn’t understand why Alex hadn’t let Logan do that last year if the Thai was fine with it this year. The Monegasque didn’t have time to ask before Lando and Oscar joined the bunch. His green eyes flitted over to George and Lewis who were whispering to each other.

Lando had a grin on his face as he greeted the four drivers.

“Hello mate.” The Briton clasped Max’s hand before going around. Oscar followed in suit.

Theo, a little nervous around the older drivers, tried to make conversation.

“How are the cars looking?”

Suddenly he had five pairs of eyes on him, which maybe would have made others shrink away, but the Frenchman didn’t want to appear weak.

Oscar’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They look good. Maybe someone will win a race this year.” He poked Lando’s side, making the brunet squawk.

“I’ll win if Max decides to DNF.”

The group laughed a bit. Max responded with an huff.

“For the last time Lando, you need to be faster to beat me. I won’t let you pass and if I’m behind you, I’ll just pass you again.”

He had a cheeky grin making Lando pout.

Charles turned back to Theo and Alex.

“How are you two feeling about the cars?”

The two Williams drivers perked up. They had been working hard all winter break to make upgrades. Alex would never admit, but most of the ideas had come from what Logan had said during 2023. They didn’t have a championship contending car, but they would be able to bring in some decent points.

Theo took the opportunity to answer.

“It looks all right. Hoping to make it into Q2 at least. We have good 1-lap pace.”

Lando snorted. “You’ll definitely make it into Q2. I’m forecasting no crashes in Free Practice.”

Theo’s head tilted. “How come?”

“Because there’s not a certain driver on the grid this year. Now maybe I can win a race without having to go around his debris. ”

“Lando you’re such a narcissist,” Max murmured, looking around hoping no one heard him. The last thing the Briton needed was another cancel culture on him.

Lando’s green eyes widened. “What? I’m only saying the truth. Even Oscar was saying something about it this morning. Right mate? Logan will probably never put a foot in the paddock again.”

Oscar looked down, semi-embarrassed, but also, again, he shouldn’t be worrying about Logan anymore. The Aussie looked back up.

“Yeah, I mean, he crashed out a lot and it was all his own faults. It’d probably be better if he stayed away for a bit.”

Max and Charles didn’t seem too certain that Oscar truly believed it. But the look in Oscar’s eyes did tell them that there was some truth. Max wanted to bring up the fact that Charles last year did crash out a few times, but he still had a seat. Charles’s hand on his back made him wait.

It was silent for a moment before George walked up to the group.

“The new drivers are about to walk in. Do you want to go with me to meet them?”

Charles and Max looked at him and eagerly nodded. Oscar and Lando shrugged, but agreed to walk with George. Alex said nothing but still tagged along, which made Theo follow the older drivers.

Time to go see who copped Logan’s driver number.

Alex truly didn’t want to see another car with the number 2 on it that wouldn’t be Logan. It wouldn’t feel great. But Alex guessed that’s what the past was, an emotion that just gnawed on your insides until it went away with time.

He once again ran into someone, but this time it was Lando.

“Lando, why’d you…”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as his eyes were now glued to the turnstiles.

There was no way.

Logan grinned when his eyes landed on the small group. George, Max, and Charles were still walking toward him and you, but the other four stopped dead in their tracks.

“Nice and sunny today?” Logan jokingly questioned as he hugged George first. You made yourself busy with greeting Max and Charles.

You and Logan had decided to show up in the Lamborghini merchandise. Logan was in a black t-shirt but you were dressed in a Lamborghini issued pantsuit. But for the race next week, the two of you would show up in sponsor clothes. The yellow decals looks great against his black shirt.

Charles smiled as he leaned back from the hug. “Looking a bit bee-ish today.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked down your own suit that had bits of yellow intricately designed.

“Charles,” you whined, “now I won’t be able to see anything else. Even our car is black and yellow.”

You let out a huff, but the smile on your face contradicted how you were acting. Logan walked up next to you and greeted the other two, which gave you and George time to talk as well.

“They’re still staring,” Logan murmured as he leaned in to side hug Max.

“Let them.”

The now group of five walked farther into the paddock. Logan had wanted to say something, or even look at the other four, but the look on their faces deterred him. With your arm linked in his, you pulled him along, also not giving him a chance to stop.

“You don’t need them.”

Logan nodded.

Charles leaned closer. “They were so sure that Logan wasn’t going to come back this season. I think Lando was betting that Mick would be in the seat.”

Your smirk grew. “Played them like a violin Logan. Making it look so easy for the rest of us.”

Logan barely glanced back at the still stuck drivers, who turned around to watch them walk away.

“They’re looking at me like I did something bad. But, why does it feel good?” the American male asked. His heart wanted to hurt because of how they treated him last year, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at their jaws on the floor.

Max snorted. “Because they fucked you up last year mate.”

George let out a gasp and put his hands over your ears. “No bad words around the children Max.”

You quickly batted his hands away. “I’m twenty-two George. Also, why aren’t your hands over Charles ‘vanilla is the best ice cream flavor’ Leclerc’s ears instead?”

The Ferrari-driver glared at you. “Says the woman who thinks chocolate is somehow superior.”

The two of you started to bicker as you walked. George, Max, and Logan laughed from behind. Logan pulled out his phone and took a quick picture before opening his schedule to see who he was with for media. He quietly cursed as he looked at the names.

George winced at the photo. “I can’t believe that they’re putting you with Lando, Oscar, and Alex.”

A quick buzz from Max’s phone made him take it out quickly. He smiled as he showed Logan.

“I guess they changed mine. I’m now with you and the wolves.”

Logan tried to feel a bit better about it, but he was visibly deflating. He just hoped that he could sit next to the Dutchman without having to sit next to anyone else.

Thankfully, when it was time, Max had saved him an end seat. It was Logan on the left, then Max, then Alex, then Lando, then Oscar. Logan hadn’t greeted any of them as he walked in, only giving Max a quick smile before they got started. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and his eyes looked over at John, his new PR manager. The older man gave him an encouraging nod as a journalist started to ask Max a question.

To Logan’s delight, most of the questions were for Max about the RB20 and if it would be as fast as the RB19. Max went through the motions to give his most mundane answer he could muster. Logan started to pick at his fingernails as he waited for the next question, which was for him. His head rose to look at the small crowd.

“James McHone, with News 5, question for Logan. Why did you come back to race for Lamborghini after a very unsuccessful rookie year with Williams?”

He wanted to wince, but kept his face neutral. He raised the mic to his lips.

“Well, uh, I thought I wasn’t done and hadn’t been able to show people what I could do. During 2023 season, I had multiple people telling me that Williams was the best I could ever get and to not throw away a good thing. But in the end, to people it seems that I did throw it away. However, now with Lamborghini and Michael, I think I can finally show that they made the wrong decision.”

Whispers went through the crowd at his last statement, but the genuine smile on John’s face made him feel better.

“Melany Lancy, with Circuit Noise, follow up question for Logan. Some drivers have mentioned that a possible return for you hadn’t been something that was believable and that Logan Sargeant should have never gotten into Formula 1. Thoughts?”

Logan took a deep breath before answering. He smirked and rolled his shoulders a bit.

“I know I’m a good driver with the right car, and Williams just didn’t have that for me. I believe that Lamborghini has everything that I require. The team has really listened to me and Y/n, my teammate, during the break. The car was designed for us. I hadn’t really heard any rumors regarding drivers saying I should have never been in Formula 1. But all I can really say is if they drop my name, I don’t own them anything. I’m just here to do my job and do it well.”

Logan wasn’t asked any more question after that, but he could see the embarrassed red start to fill in Oscar’s, Lando’s, and Alex’s faces. He hadn’t heard rumors, but he had heard them say that first hand back in Brazil.

He was quick to stand up and leave once they got the go ahead. He had a big smile as he made his way back to the garage with Max in tow. Somehow, the Lamborghini garage was placed next to Red Bull. On the other side of the navy garage was Ferrari.

The American could only laugh at the thought of them trying to put both Italian teams garages next to each other. Enzo Ferrari would roll in his grave and Tonino would have a fit. He glanced over to Max before lifting his hand in a wave.

“Y/n! Lo sai che a Tonino verrebbe un infarto vedendoti nel garage rosso?” (You know that Tonino would have a heart attack seeing you in the red garage?)

Max’s head whipped at the fluent sounding Italian that left Logan’s mouth. Logan chose to ignore and kept smiling. Even in the Ferrari garage, Charles’s eyes went wide at the sound. The Monegasque’s head turned to you waiting for an answer.

You waved a hand down like being in the Ferrari garage wasn’t a big deal.

“E piu come se Enzo si stesse rotolando nella tomba. Charles aveva fatto una prova del gelato per il suo negozio e ne volevo un po’” (More like Enzo is rolling in his grave. Charles had test ice cream for his shop and I wanted some.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Max just stood there in an utter look of confusion and bewilderment.

“Charles, hai altro da condividere?” (Charles, do you have more to share?”

The Ferrari driver was still frozen as he listened to you converse with one of his engineers in fluent Italian. It scared him even more when he truly realized that Logan was fluent as well. He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head before answering.

“Questi ragazzo. Sono io quello che finira presto nella tomba. Si, ne ho di piu.” (These kids. I’m the one that’s going to be in an early grave. Yes, I have more.)

Charles beckoned them over. Logan took the lead, letting a still very confused Max follow him. He finally found his voice once he stepped into the garage.

“Ok, but what the actual fu-”

“Language!” you yelled, licking the spoon that was currently being used to eat more ice cream. “Charles, I think the tiramisu could use some more espresso. It’s still a bit too sweet.”

Charles muttered something, but wrote some words down in a separate yellow notebook that had “LEC” on the front.

Logan had found a cup of some strawberry and started to eat it. Max stood still but was handed a cup of a familiar green ice cream. He looked up at Charles with wide eyes.

“I thought you said that this was an abomination to the ice cream society Charlie,” the Dutchman said with a smirk on his face.

Charles went a bit red.

“Well, you like it so…” he didn’t finish and just let the words die off. Max just hummed contently as he ate the peppermint flavored ice cream. After Charles finished writing something, he took a deep breath.

“So, when did the two of you learn Italian?”

Your mouth was full of ice cream so you nudged Logan. He put the spoon back in the little cup before answering.

“Y/n and I always thought it’d be funny to learn a language so that we could talk about stuff together and not everyone would know. I wanted to learn Russian but someone couldn’t tell the difference between the vowels.”

You let out a whine at his confession.

“Russian also doesn’t sound as sexy as Italian.”

Without realizing, Max hummed in agreement. Charles went bright red at that as well.

“Anyway, so when we were in F3 together for a little bit, we started to buckle down and learn it. Took about a year and a half to master it but we did.”

The Ferrari driver looked a bit pained as he looked down at his cup. If Logan knew Italian, what had he overheard when Charles wasn’t aware. Logan could only guess what he was feeling like right now.

“Charles, I never overheard anything bad from you. And if I did, it was only constructive criticism. I actually listened to it a lot and it helped with COTA.”

Logan put a hand on Charles’s shoulder to try to convey that he really didn’t care. The Monegasque was never mean or rude toward him, like some orange drivers were. And Logan thinks that’s why it hurts more. The people who were supposed to be his good friends were mean to him. And the people who he wasn’t even that close with were nicer. It made his brain hurt.

You took this as a moment to also confess something.

“Logan also knows Dutch.”

The American went bright red under Max’s eyes. The Dutchman had a big smirk.

“Weet je?” (Do you now?)

Logan didn’t reply in the language.

“Yes, I know some. I’m not as fluent as you are.”

“He wanted to learn it so he could understand most of your other interviews where you talked more about the car.”

“Y/n!” Logan whipped around and yelled. You only shrugged.

“It’s the truth.”

Logan then suddenly remembered something. He turned toward Charles.

“Y/n knows French!”

A spoon hit his head, but the American didn’t even flinch. This time, it was your turn to turn as red as the Ferrari car behind you.

Charles cooed at, surprisingly, the both of them.

“Aw, multi-lingual babies.”

Your head was in your hands. “I am never talking to you ever again.”

“Well that’s not helpful,” a male voice sounded at the front of the garage. Michael and Marissa were both smiling at the group of four. You slid off the table that you were currently sitting on.

“I guess that’s our cue to go. Remember Charles, more espresso, less depresso.”

You led Logan out of the garage as you followed the siblings.

“Je te verrai plus tard petite abeille!” (I’ll see you later little bee!)

You groaned once more after hearing Charles call after you. You glared up at Logan.

“You better be thankful that I love you.”

Logan put a hand on his heart. “Aww, love you too.”

“I still won’t hesitate to run you off the track though.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it tesoro.”

lamborghini_racing has posted

lamborghini_racing didn't throw away a good thing

liked by phoenix95, lamborghini, sargeant4ever, and 3,205,859 others

lambo_f1duo ok, but the caption slays 💅

swift_on_track truly is a reputations era, the black fits are fitting

charles_leclerc look, you even came in your little bee car 🐝

phoenix95 I will run you off the track with said bee car, it comes with a stinger

charles_leclerc ok, no more ice cream for you

phoenix95 I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT DO THAT

f1_gridgang man, this team is going to be top of the grid

lambof1 your honor, I fear they slayed too much

venus2 has posted

venus2 i'd do it over and over and over again if I could

liked by maxverstappen1, sargeantgirlie, oscarpiastri, and 5,305,104 others

lambovsferrari glad to see you back in the paddock bro, wouldn't be the same without you 💪

loscar_no_more BAHAHAHA NOT OSCAR HIDING IN THE LIKES

my_goat_logan you're going to come back even better than before!

phoenix95 picture creds would be preferable 🤨

venus2 oh sorry, thanks max for taking the pictures

maxverstappen1 you're welcome!

phoenix95 I still have Charles in my garage

maxverstappen1 you give him BACK

phoenix95 no.

charles_leclerc THAT'S IT - NO MORE ICE CREAM FOR THE TWO OF YOU (Logan let me out)

venus2 on it

ferrari&lambo_crew by I know that Enzo is rolling in his grave rn and Tonino is on the verge of an aneurism

tswizzlexf1 the I Did Something Bad lyrics >>>>>>

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 it just felt so good

liked by venus2, barnes&noble, dior, lewishamilton, and 5,305,201 others

booktok she's a racer AND A BOOKWORM?? she's just my type

venusxphoenix and Logan's too apparently

y/n.nation I'm digging the new layout and profile

venus2 you're welcome for the books

phoenix95 could have gotten them myself (ily and thank you)

charles_leclerc you're being...too nice 🤨

venus2 she loves me

phoenix95 gag (affectionately) 🫶

charles_leclerc SEE

maxverstappen1 it's her love language

venus2 it's the same as you and max talking about each other to everyone else

charles_leclerc low blow man, low blow 👊😔

rari_lambo_quartet I love them your honor

bee_lamborghini so ready for the first race

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reidrum · 4 months

Text

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be.

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise.

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert

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vcnillazelda · 2 years

Note

Hi! ^^ I don't know if you're still taking requests. I'm kind of new around here.

So If you can, I'd like to ask for headcanons or a scenario where Ghost / Soap / König has a crush on a recruit girl who is a very skilled sniper, but is constantly underestimated and even excluded by other military personnel for being short and mute?

ghost, soap and könig crushing on mute! recruit! reader

tags: pining, eventual relationship/getting together, confessions, protective! simon, könig’s is really long i’m sorry 😭

johnny and könig under cut

a/n: aaaaa this is adorable

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

he’s nervous around you ngl

full on like palms sweaty and mild stammering it’s so cute

the fact you’re mute is kind of appealing to him, he likes your company because you don’t bother him like johnny does, you’ll listen if he speaks and offer some communication sometimes albeit his sign language is rusty

the moment he realised he’s in love with you is the first mission you went on. he’s seeking you out, knowing he can’t ask your location because you couldn’t respond. he gets a little anxious due to the lack of communication, it’s what keeps him sane, knowing his colleagues are okay.

he gets you a special radio so you can communicate better, putting an extra button on so you could beep it. one for yes, two for no, three for ‘i’m in danger’, yet simon’s the only one to know about that last one

is extremely impressed by your aim, the moment he saw a sliver of a man in a window you took him down.

back on base, he notices other rookies leaving you out of training, so you’d have no one to train with.

pulls you from that training session and offers private training with him (1. because he wants to help and feels bad you’re being ostracised, 2. because he wants to spend time with you and be close to you).

when he confessed to you and asked if you felt the same he thought it would be the end of everything, but you gave him a kind smile and nodded- simon has never been so happy

he’s nervous about dating, it’s been a long time and he’s not exactly a model lover or a ‘good man’, so you’ll have to be a little patient with him

soon after dating, he sticks around you all the time, hovering in your space whilst you’re practicing longer distance shots

no one dares to leave you out of anything when he’s by your side <3

johnny

he immediately befriends you, happily chatting away- he does enough talking for the both of you

doesnt realise you’re mute at first, he starts to think you don’t like him until you give him a note explaining your situation, he’s so relieved

people leaving you out? not when johnny’s here! he’ll argue with people before pulling you from that training group and into his own- he convinced price pretty easily due to your file being full of good comments from higher ups + your aim was incredible

is literally your best friend when you join 141 and then ghost team, he’s all smiley and talks for you

he doesn’t even need to communicate with you anymore to talk for you, he’s got a sixth sense for that type of thing it’s crazy

the moment he realised he loved you was when he was done arguing with someone about excluding you, then when he walked back to you, you had a sweet smile on your face, thanking him

because you’re short, he’ll 100% use your head as an armrest btw

he confesses in a pretty old-school way, a note, flowers and a sheepish grin on his face

when you hug him tight and nod he’s over the moon, scooping you into a bear hug and kissing your cheek

he’s much more straightforward and quick than simon, so if you feel your relationships moving too fast you’ve got to tell him lol

adores you and always praises your aim on missions

will always stick up for you, no matter what.

will want you to meet his family- and he comes from a large scottish family so be ready for that 😭

will get slightly jealous when you befriend his baby brother, agreeing to play games with him- this wasn’t meant to happen, you two just clicked and now johnny’s stuck between you two

gets all clingy afterwards, asking for your attention back- he’s so childish sometimes aidjdifjdfkdien

loves going out to places with you, so 100% your first date is in a nice restaurant tucked away in a nook in his hometown :)

könig

when he sees you being openly left out of things he genuinely feels for you, considering he was heavily bullied in school

he even gets left out of things now, and he’s one of the top snipers on the force

approaches you, hoping he doesn’t look to intimidating, and asks if you want to train with him

he’s dreading you saying no, but when you smile and accept he’s quite happy

he’s used to training alone, so there’s not much conversation as the two of you work on your aim

eventually, after a few training sessions, he strikes up a few conversations.

gets extremely anxious when you don’t respond, because he’s too busy looking down his scope to look at you, and drops it

you catch on that he’s put off and give him a small note explaining you’re mute

he’s so happy you don’t hate him because deep down he wants to be friends

soon after becoming friends, you don’t care that you’re being left out of things because you just blow them off and go hang out with your extremely tall austrian friend :)

the height difference between you two is very noticeable so some other operators start calling you two ‘big and small’ 😭

you’re the first person he tells his name to, he wants you to trust him and also wants you to know he trusts you

takes time out of his day to learn sign language so the two of you can talk easier, it’s really sweet to peer into his room and see him slowly practicing hand movements

the moment he realised he loved you was when the two of you were in his room, some soft music playing as you wrote something in your journal- you looked perfect in the lamplight and he wanted to kiss you

gets extremely anxious over the idea of liking you more than a friend, he doesn’t want to lose this friendship and has never actually dated anyone before considering he’s such a loner

he asks you out in a completely different way. leaves a note on your bed but isn’t there at all, doesn’t want to face rejection.

it’s easier on him because if you do reject him he can just pretend it never happened because he wasn’t there

when you sign the note saying ‘yes :)’ and leave it on his bed he’s so happy, immediately running to the practice range and hugging you

people ask what happened because it’s so out of character for him to hug someone, and he’ll just state that something good happened

is a very hands on, clingy lover. he’s never been in a relationship before and he didn’t realise at the time how starved he was for any type of affection that wasn’t maternal (he’s a mommas boy come on now)

speaking of which, if you agree to meet his mother he’s gonna kiss you immediately. is so delighted because off base his mother is the most important thing to him

she’s lovely too, never pressures you to talk despite not entirely understanding why you’re mute. gives you plenty of austrian food you’ve probably never had before and gives amazing hugs, she’s so happy her son found a girlfriend :)

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agendabymooner · 7 months

Text

SOMETHING REUNITED !!! SEBASTIAN V. X FEM!READER! X MARK W. (18+)

summary: sometimes a cat-and-mouse game of three can last longer than intended.

content warning: smut below the cut (minors dni), explicit language, mfm threesome, dom!sebastian and dom!mark (mentions rbr!mark and rbr!seb), multi 21, oral sex (m receiving) + deepthroat + facefucking, dumbification if you squint hard enough, double penetration + spitroast, praise kink, size kink-esque, age gap (with mark), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED)

💌re:moony's planner request: "pls more webberxsebxreader preferably smut"

note: i have a couple asks/requests sitting on my inbox for a while and this is the first thing i've written in a while 😭 i'm sorry to disappoint y'all but enjoy regardless xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

even ten years later, she still had them chasing after her.

working with red bull was anything but easy for her back in 2012, being a 22 years old woman and all. women in motorsports were something of a relatively new topic back then and when she made her presence known in the milton keynes factory, she would have expected things to be hard for her.

well… it was hard for her for a brief moment until a certain australian and german molded her into something more bold, giving her the attention and validation she desired.

yet she persisted, thinking of them as people who merely wanted her to feel comfortable in the formula one field. she didn’t think much of it before.

until malaysia 2013 happened. sebastian vettel won after he stopped following a team order, causing mark webber his p1 and in the process the ‘multi 21’ controversy occurred.

she was there to witness all of that - from mark’s radio to sebastian’s interview post-race, even their cooldown room segment. she was there.

that was also the same night mark finally snapped and bent her over his hotel room bed, with her allowing mark to fuck the frustration out of himself while she whined and cried about how big he was— and how full she felt.

it didn’t take long for sebastian to hear her whimpering and her pleading, as his room was situated next to mark’s. the german driver came knocking on mark’s door, and sebastian found his cock in her mouth and his hands gripping her hair.

mark, ever the dominant man that he was, demanded the woman to suck the race winner’s cock and condescendingly told sebastian it was a ‘congratulatory gift’ from the australian.

that was the last night they’ve ever seen each other in the same bed, but they saw each other a lot in the paddock.

in 2014, mark left for world endurance while sebastian continued to chase after her - to which she explicitly stated that she wasn’t going to do it again. but sebastian pursued her continuously anyway.

now, in 2023, both men were retired but they always found themselves coming back to the paddock or the pit lane. mark webber had been managing a driver who was a rookie this year, while sebastian couldn’t find himself to leave the scene as he was newly retired.

both had excuses, but no one really knew the real reason why they kept coming back. no one knew but themselves… and her.

the ten year build up led to her hotel room by the suzuka track, her tits were splayed out and pinched and caressed by both men and her knicker becoming more damp as they continued to tease her. she uttered nothing but a pitiful sigh, something that had both men groaning in delight.

“god, i fuckin’ miss that whining of yours, baby,” mark nipped her ear, his greying stubble grazing her neck and his grubby fingers nestling themselves between her legs. “miss the way you fuckin’ plead. you miss being handled like this, don’t you?”

sebastian chuckled darkly, his hand finding itself stabilizing her chin as he examined her desperate face. “and you thought those men you’ve been fucking were fulfilling your needs,” sebastian’s german accent thickened as he gave her an amused smile, “we’ve been waiting for this for ten years, liebe.”

it was a blur, having to figure out how she went from sinking down to her knees and choking on sebastian’s cock as the tip hit the back of her throat. she could feel a lot of things.

this included mark’s hand that held her hair up and bobbed her head back and forth. mark crooned sweetly and praised her, “there we go. that’s a good girl. keep sucking his cock like that, baby. you’re doing so good for him.”

mark nearly laughed when he watched her knees close and clench, fascinated at her submissive state as his eyes looked at her teary ones.

sebastian’s usually-bright-blue eyes were darkening as her mouth took in mark’s length, watching the way her tongue swirled around the aussie’s tip before her nose grazed the hipbone of the older man.

mark let out a guttural groan, feeling his tip at the back of her throat as she skillfully took him in. he let out a string of curses before he muttered, “good girl. keep sucking me off like that. ‘m gonna fuck this throat of yours, hm?” he peered down at her, waiting for her go ahead and witnessing her nod.

sebastian smirked as mark’s hips began to snap forward, lewd sounds of liquid escaping her barely empty mouth as she continued to indulge in mark’s cock.

“she can take us both so well,” sebastian crooned to the girl, stroking his cock at the same pace mark fucked her mouth with his length.

a few snaps of his hips after, mark finally pulled her mouth away and allowed her to breathe. she panted heavily, looking up at the towering man and still kneeling before them.

“think you can take both of us, schatz?” sebastian asked the woman as if she couldn’t comprehend a word anymore. her bruised throat didn’t tell them anything, earning an amused laugh from mark and sebastian. she was already fucked out and she only sucked their cocks.

mark could remember how desperate she was to suck him off after his loss at malaysia, wanting to please him after he grew frustrated with sebastian’s refusal of order in the track. all mark could think about was how ten years later he was going to feel her again. perhaps even better this time.

sebastian laid on the bed, gesturing for the woman to sit on his cock.

mark’s hand helped the woman up before slapping her ass, his mouth letting out a smirk when she let out a soft sigh at the impact.

soon, she sat on sebastian’s lap, sinking down on his cock as she let out a moan, “oh fuck…”

she adjusted, allowing herself to bounce on sebastian’s cock for a moment before she felt mark move and settle behind her. a splatter of lube escaped its bottle as mark spread it generously, in the process his fingers prodded her back hole as she let out a soft whine.

mark fucked her with his fingers while sebastian continued to thrust slowly, making her writhe and cry out for the two of them. they really had missed this— her pitiful and pleading moan. they missed making her cry like she hadn’t been fucked hard before.

“mm… so fuckin’ tight,” mark whispered in her ear, pulling his hand away to stroke his cock and lubricate it.

she nearly collapsed on top of sebastian when mark’s cock entered her slowly, both she and mark letting out loud moans. she felt so full while mark felt like she was hugging his cock tightly.

“fuck, mark!” she exclaimed, her head nuzzling sebastian’s shoulder for a moment as she babbled, “so fucking big. god, you’re so fucking big!”

“you’re so tight for us, schatz,” sebastian murmured and kissed her temple sweetly. “so fragile, we can barely fit ourselves in your holes.”

“seb,” she whimpered as she muttered, “‘m so full.”

“i know you are, bebe,” sebastian said, humouring her submissive state while mocking her in the process, “you’re so full that you can’t think anymore, hm? all you can do is be a good girl for us because you’re already fucked out.”

mark groaned loudly, now moving languidly alongside sebastian as the two men thrusted in and out of her holes. she couldn’t do much, she couldn’t even reminisce because of the sensations that she’s lost all thanks to their dominance and their primal urge to fuck her endlessly.

“you miss this, baby?” mark whispered heatedly, now moving rougher as she cried out their names. “missed this body of yours.”

“you had us running after you for years,” sebastian smirked, “now you’re a putty in our hands. such a shame you made us wait this long.”

“it’s a good thing we caught you eventually,” mark added as his eyes found her hands clawing at sebastian’s bare chest while she whined and squirmed in pleasure.

“because we’re gonna make sure you’re not gonna slip away anymore. gonna make sure you’re ours. gonna make sure everyone knows you’re ours — we’re gonna fuckin’ ruin every man for you like we did in 2013.”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness

#sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel smut #formula one smut #f1 smut #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #mark webber smut #mark webber imagine #mark webber x reader #mark webber fic #sv5 #mw2 #💌 re:moony’s planner

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ravcnism · 3 months

Text

STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

#kenji sato #ken sato x reader #x reader #ultraman rising #ken sato x male reader #kenji sato x male reader

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lee-laurent · 2 months

Text

Finding A Way - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is smitten with the new media girl for the Devils, the only issue... she has a boyfriend already (and he's a Flyers fan)

Content: angst, fluff, cheating, unhealthy relationship, emotional abuse, mentions of sex but no smut

wc: 6.5k

notes: this fic deals with some serious issues, so if you're not comfortable reading PLEASE do not continue. your mental health is wayyyyy more important than a fic, i promise :) however if you do decide to read, enjoy! i've had this written in my notes app for a while and just decided to finish it and put it on here!

Adelaide giggled as Luke stopped suddenly, letting the ice spray over the girl and her camera. Jack watched from the other side of the ice with Nico, rolling his eyes at the sight. Luke had been flirting with the new media girl since the season started but was still adamant that he didn't like her in a romantic way.

"When is he gonna ask her out?" Nico asked, knocking his should with Jack's.

"He still claims that he doesn't like her," Jack shrugged, narrowing his eyes as Adelaide giggled again.

"Well, he's clearly lying. Because they're definitely flirting."

"I keep telling him to bring her over, but he refuses."

"What's going on?" Dawson asked, joining his teammates.

"My brother is trying to get with the media girl."

"Adelaide? I don't blame him; she's hot."

"We all know she's hot, Mercer. It's just that he's too chicken to actually ask her out."

"Luke, you're supposed to be practicing," Adelaide teased, wiping the ice from her camera lens.

"I was just coming closer so you can get some good shots of me," Luke cheesed.

"I have enough photos of you. Tell your brother to start moving so I can get some of him.

"Oh, I see how it is. You want pictures of Jack, but not me. Should've known. He always gets the girls," he smirked.

Adelaid blushed at Luke's teasing, hiding her face in her hands. She'd be lying if she said she didn't find the rookie cute. He had made her feel welcome since day one, which the media girl thought was strange seeing as Luke was the shyer of the two Hughes boys.

"I didn't say that at all, Luke. Now go practice before you get us both in trouble."

Luke offered her one last smile, before joining the boys in their next drill. He caught Adelaide's eye few more times during practice, but she was busy taking pictures and speaking with her coworkers to pay him much attention. However, he was able to catch her as he was leaving the locker-room.

"Ady! Wait! Do you need a ride home?" he panted.

"Oh, um, I have a ride. Thanks though, Luke."

"Oh, who's your-"

"Babe! Come on!" a man standing near the entrance shouted. Luke felt his heart drop at the other man's words. He had just called the woman that Luke liked "babe." He could have sworn she was flirting back... guess not.

"One second, Matt! I'm just saying goodbye to Luke."

Luke watch the other man, Matt, roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest. Tapping his foot impatiently as Adelaide turned to the rookie one last time.

"Maybe I'll bum a ride off you and Jack another time. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon for the game," she smiled, patting him on the shoulder. Luke watched from afar as Matt interlaced his fingers with Adelaide's, talking to her quickly and quietly.

"Come on, Rusty. Where's Ady? I thought you were offering her a ride?" Jack asked, snapping his brother out his stupor.

"She just left with her... boyfriend?"

"She has a boyfriend? Damn. Could've sworn she was into you. Sorry, bro."

Jack's words just pissed Luke off further. He turned on his heel, storming off to the boys' car.

"Luke, you can't mope around for the rest of the day just because the media girl has a boyfriend. I mean, the whole team thinks she's hot, so I'm not surprised she's taken," Jack tried to cheer up his younger brother.

"You're not helping, Jack."

"Sorry, I'm trying," Jack rolled his eyes.

"Just leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to deal with your dumbass."

"Whatever."

"Matt, it's not like that. He was just being nice."

"Sure, he was, Ady. Because all those horny hockey boys you work with are always just 'being nice.'"

"You're being unreasonable. Luke is new like me. He's just helping me fit in."

"I don't want you talking to him unless it's work related."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Ady sighed, looking down at the floor.

"It's ok, princess. I'm not mad," Matt cooed, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I love you."

"I love you too, Matt," she cracked a small smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Adelaide loved Matt. And Matt loved Adelaide. They'd been together for almost a year. He protected her from the guys she worked with, at least that's what he told her. Without Matt she wouldn't be safe. She needed him.

"Alright, have a good game. I'm out tonight with the boys, so make sure you get a ride with... what's her name? Sandra?"

"Sarah, Matt. Her name is Sarah. I've told you that like ten times today," Ady sighed, opening the car door.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter. I'll be out late, so don't wait up." And with that, Matt had driven off. Addy sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. She just needed to get through the game and ask Sarah for a ride home. Easy enough; she'd be fine. And everything would go as planned and-

"Adelaide!"

Her eyes shot up, locking with no other than Jack Hughes'. She looked around as if he'd be calling on someone else, but she was the only person in the room.

"Um, hi, Jack."

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" he begged.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"So, you know my brother Luke?"

"Yeah? We work together?"

"Right, so... he has a HUGE crush on you and I was wondering if-"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Okay, but-"

"I love my boyfriend."

"But-"

"No 'buts.' This conversation is done. I love Matt."

"Yeah, you said that," Jack furrowed his brow, watching as she sped away to her office. Who was she trying to convince about loving Matt? Jack or herself?

Jack stood there, his mind racing. He watched Adelaide disappear into her office, a part of him still hopeful that maybe there was more to the situation than met the eye. But her words her clear, and it wasn't his place to push any further.

As he walked back to the locker room, he saw Luke waiting by the team's gear. The younger Hughes brother looked like he was trying to shake off a bad mood, but his face was still set in a scowl.

"Hey bro, you alright?" Jack asked, trying his best to sound natural.

Luke shrugged, not meeting his brother's gaze, "Yeah, just... not feeling great."

Jack hesitated before replying, "Look, I know you're bummed about Adelaide. But if she's with Matt and she says she loves him, then... well there's not much you can do."

Luke nodded, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. The team gathered for their pre-game talk, but the tension between the brothers was palpable. Jack glanced over at Luke frequently, wishing he could say something to make things better, but he knew some things were just out of his control.

Meanwhile, Adelaide was back in her office, trying to focus on the game. But the encounter with Jack kept replaying in her mind. She knew Matt could be overprotective, but his jealousy was like a thorn in her side.

As she was preparing to leave for the rink, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Sarah, confirming her ride home. She felt a small sense of relief. At least she wouldn't have to worry about getting home alone.

The game was intense. Adelaide took photos from the sidelines, trying to stay fully focused on her job. But her thoughts just kept drifting back to Luke and her conversation with Jack. She saw Luke on the ice, giving it his all, and she felt a pang of regret.

After the game as the players were filing out, Adelaide was about to leave when Jack approached her again.

"Hey, Ady. Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, his tone softer than before.

"Sure, what's up?" she replied, trying to hide her exhaustion.

"I just wanted to apologize if I pushed too hard earlier. I just thought maybe-"

"I appreciate it, Jack. But it really is just how things are. Matt and I... are committed to each other."

"Yeah, I get that. I just hate seeing my brother like this."

"I understand. It's complicated, and I wish it were easier. But thanks for understanding."

Jack nodded and gave her a small, sympathetic smile, "Alright, well, see you around, Adelaide."

"Bye, Jack."

As she walked out to meet Sarah, she felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. She loved Matt, but the situation with Luke had stirred up emotions she wasn't ready to confront. For now, she needed to get through the night and take things one step at a time.

The days that followed were a blur for Adelaide. Her interactions with Luke were limited to work-related conversations and occasional small talk. She did her best to remain professional, but the chemistry between the two still lingered in her mind.

One evening, after a win against the Rangers, the team was out for drinks to celebrate. Adelaide was there with Sarah, trying to enjoy the night and push away the nagging thoughts of Luke.

Luke, for his part, was trying to keep his distance, but it was clear he was still hung up on Ady. When the group decided to hit up the nearby bar after the game, Adelaide and Sarah were among the last to arrive. And once he saw her in the bar, the alcohol in his system was not going to keep him from talking to her.

"Hey, Ady," he smiled, approaching her and Sarah. "Glad you made it."

"Hi, Luke," she replied, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and hesitation.

They chatted casually at first, but as the night went on, Adelaide found herself increasingly drawn to Luke. They laughed together, shared stories, and for a brief moment, the complications of her life seemed to melt away. The alcohol added a sense of liberation, and she noticed Luke looking at her with an intensity that made her heart race.

Eventually, the group's conversation grew more rowdy, and Sarah got caught up in chatting with some friends of the team. Adelaide, feeling a bit detached, slipped outside for some fresh air. Luke, quickly noting her absence, followed her.

"Ady, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, just needed a breather," she said, looking up at the stars. "It's been a long week."

Luke stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers. "You don't have to put on a brave face all the time, you know. It's okay to feel tired and burnt out."

She smiled faintly, "Thanks, Luke. It's just... everything's been a bit overwhelming lately."

Before she could react, Luke reached out and gently touched her arm. The warmth of his hand sent a shiver down her spine. Adelaide looked up, her heart pounding. Luke's gaze was intense, and she could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

In a moment of impulsive recklessness, Adelaide leaned in, and their lips met. The kiss was electric, filled with a mix of desperation and longing. For a moment, all the complications, the guilt, and the responsibilities faded away.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Adelaide's mind was racing, torn between her love for Matt and the undeniable connection she felt with Luke.

"I shouldn't have-" Adelaide started, but Luke gently placed a finger on her lips.

"It's okay," he said softly. "We don't have to figure anything out right now."

She nodded, feeling a rush of confusion and regret. "I need to get back inside."

Luke watched her walk back into the bar, a mix of hope and apprehension in his eyes. He knew that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated situation.

Back inside, Adelaide's heart was heavy as she rejoined Sarah and the group. The guilt of what had just happened weighed on her, but she couldn't ignore the thrill and the intensity of the moment with Luke. As the night went on, she tried her best to act normal, but her mind was consumer by the memory of kissing Luke.

The argument had started over something small- Matt's habit of not cleaning up after himself- but it quickly escalated. Adelaide and Matt were in the kitchen of their apartment, voices raised.

"Seriously, Matt? I've asked you a million times to clean up your dishes!" Ady's frustration was evident, as she slammed a dish into the sink.

"I'm tired of this, Ady!" Mat retorted, his face flushed with anger. "It's not like I'm trying to ignore you. I've been busy with work and-"

"Busy? You're always busy with work, but you can't even make a little effort here?!" she shouted, her hands on her hips. "It's not just about the dishes; it's about the respect!"

Matt threw his hands up in exasperation. "Respect? You think I don't respect you? I work hard so we can have a good life. I'm tired of you always nitpicking!"

"It's not nitpicking, Matthew! It's about being partners in a relationship. I feel like I'm doing everything on my own," her voice trembled.

Matt's face hardened. "Maybe if you were a little more understanding, you'd see how much I'm trying. But no, you're just focused on what I'm not doing."

Her eyes filled with tears, "I'm not asking for perfection. I'm asking for some consideration. I'm tired of feeling like I'm always the bad guy here."

Matt's anger seemed to shift into frustration. "You know what? Maybe we need some space. I can't keep doing this every day."

The harshness in his voice stung, and Adelaide felt her heart sink. "So what? You want to just walk away?"

"No, I'm just saying maybe we need to take a break from fighting all the time. I need to cool off," Matt said, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going out with the guys tonight. Maybe that'll help."

Adelaide watched as he stormed out, the door slamming behind him. She was left standing in the kitchen, feeling a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration. The apartment felt cold and empty without him.

With no one else to turn to, Ady grabbed her phone and, in a moment of desperation, texted Luke, asking if she coud come over. Her unresolved emotions driving her to seek comfort elsewhere.

When she arrived at Luke and Jack's apartment, her mind was clouded with the aftermath of the fight. Luke opened the door, his concern clear as day as he saw her tear-stained face.

"Ady, what happened?" Luke asked, pulling her into the apartment.

"I just... needed to get away," she replied, her voice breaking as she sunk into the couch.

Luke sat next to her, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I don't even know where to start," she laughed bitterly. "Matt and I had this huge fight. It's like we can't even get along anymore."

As Adelaide opened up about her frustrations, the conversation slowly shifted from comforting to more personal. The tension between the two grew palpable, and before they knew it, their emotions overwhelmed them. The lines between comfort and intimacy were blurred, leading them to kiss passionately.

The next morning, Adelaide woke up with a jolt, her head pounding. She turned to find Luke beside her, a mixture of confusion and guilt washing over her.

"Luke, I... we shouldn't have," Adelaide began, her voice trembling. "This was a mistake."

Luke's face hardened. "A mistake? You think this was just a mistake?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "I love Matt. I shouldn't have let this happen."

Luke sat up, frustration evident in his voice. "So, what are you saying? That I'm just some rebound? That this meant nothing?"

"No, it's not like that," she said, reaching for his hand. "It's just-"

"Just what?" Luke snapped, pulling away. "Just that you're confused? Or that you don't know what you want?"

"It's not about you, Luke!" she exclaimed, her voice rising. "It's about me and my choices. I'm committed to Matt. I need to figure out what I want."

Luke was seething. "Well, maybe you should've figured it out before coming here. This is exactly what I was afraid of- being used and then thrown away when it's convenient."

Adelaide recoiled, hurt by his words. "I never meant to hurt you."

Luke looked away, frustration and pain written on his face. "I thought we had something real, but now I see I was just a distraction."

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Adelaide said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

Luke's expression softened slightly, but it was clear he was still hurt. "I get it. But I need time to process this. I can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"I understand," she replied, her voice just above a whisper. "I need to go."

As she gathered her things, the awkwardness and emotional distance between them was almost tangible. She glanced back at Luke, who stood silently by the door, a mix of anger and sadness in his gaze.

"I'll give you some space. I'm really sorry, Luke."

With that, she left his apartment, the weight of her actions heavy on her shoulders. As she drove away, the gravity of what had happened began to settle in, and she knew that repairing the damage she had caused would be an arduous journey.

Adelaide's hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel, her mind racing with the burden of what had just happened. Her thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt and confusion. She took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking garage, trying to steady herself before heading inside.

When she entered the apartment, the living room was dark, the only light coming from the sun filtering through the blinds. Matt was sitting on the couch, his posture tense and his face partially hidden in the shadows.

Her heart sank at the sight of him. "Matt, you didn't stay with the guys," she said, her voice shaky as she closed the door behind her.

Matt's gaze met hers, his eyes sharp and questioning. "Yeah. I decided to come home after all. I've been thinking."

"Oh, um, okay," she replied, trying to keep her composure as she walked further into the room.

Matt stood up and approached her, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. "So where were you? I tried calling, but you didn't answer."

Adelaide's heart raced. "I was out for a bit... I needed some fresh air. It was a rough day, ya know?"

Matt's eyes narrowed. "A bit? You were gone for hours. Did something happen?"

She hesitated, scrambling to come up with a believable excuse. "I just went for a drive to clear my head. Fell asleep in a parking lot. It's been stressful with everything going on."

Matt studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced but unsure of what to say. "You didn't go see Luke, did you?"

The question hit her like a ton of bricks. She forced a nonchalant laugh, trying to mask her nervousness. "No, of course not. I haven't seen him. Why would you think that?"

His expression softened, but he still looked troubled. "I don't know, I guess I just... I felt like something was off. I didn't want to jump to conclusions."

Ady stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Matt, I promise you, nothing happened. I was just out trying to process everything. I needed some space, and I didn't think to tell you because I thought you were also out."

Matt weighed her words, the tension in his shoulder easing. "Okay. I just- I don't want us to keep fighting. I care about you, Ady. I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

"I don't want that either," she said, her voice filled with sincerity she hoped would convince him. "I'm sorry for not being more communicative. I'll do better."

Matt nodded slowly, "Alright. Let's just try to move forward and work on things. I don't want to lose you."

Her heart ached, but she forced a smile. "I don't want to lose you either. We'll figure this out. I love you."

"I love you too."

They embraced, and Adelaide held him tightly, feeling both relief and guilt. As Matt settled back onto the couch, Ady joined him, trying to push away the lingering feelings from the night with Luke.

The weight of her deception was heavy, and as she sat beside Matt, the realization that she was living a lie began to settle in. She knew that maintaining the facade would be difficult, and the consequences of her actions were far from over. For now, though, she focused on keeping up the appearance of normalcy, hoping that time would help heal the rift she had created.

Luke felt like he was in a fog. The events of the previous night and that morning replayed in his mind. He knew he needed to talk to someone, but he wasn't ready to fully disclose what had happened. He decided to seek comfort in his brother, hoping for a little bit of guidance in his situation.

Jack met Luke at the rink, finding his brother sitting alone in the locker room. He approached him, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, Rusty. You've been awfully quiet this morning. Everything okay?" Jack asked, sitting down beside him.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not really, man. I'm feelin' pretty messed up."

Jack cocked an eyebrow, sensing the seriousness of the situation. "You wanna talk about it or..."

"Sort of. It's... complicated," Luke said, avoiding eye contact. "I had a rough night, and I'm trying to make sense of things, I guess."

Jack frowned, "You sure you don't wanna spill the beans? Sometimes talking helps, ya know?"

Luke hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's not really something I can just talk about. I made some... choices that I'm regretting, and I feel like I've fucked things up, royally."

The older Hughes studied him carefully. "I get it. But you know, if you're feeling like you screwed up, you should at least be able to talk to someone you know won't judge you. I'm your brother, it's what I'm here for."

"Not that simple. I just don't wanna drag you into this. I just need to figure out what to do next."

"Are you like in serious trouble?"

"No, Jack... not serious trouble."

"I don't need to call the cops?"

"No, Jack," he laughed bitterly.

"Alright, well, don't bottle it up. You've got people who care about you, and we're all in this together."

Luke nodded, grateful for Jack’s support but still feeling the weight of his decisions. As they got ready for practice, Luke tried to focus on the task at hand, though his mind was still troubled by the consequences of the previous night.

Adelaide avoided Luke like he was the plague the next few days. She poured herself into work, using the camera as a shield to hide behind her. She kept her interactions with the team strictly professional, but her heart began to ache the first time her eyes met Luke's.

Jack noticed the change in his brother and the photographer. Their friendship had vanished, replaced by a strained silence. One day after pratice, Jack cornered Adelaide in the hallway outside the media room.

"Hey, Ady, got a minute?" he asked, casually leaning against the wall.

"Sure, Jack. What's going on?"

"I noticed that you and Luke have been... off lately. Did something happen?"

Her heart raced, but she forced a large smile. "No, nothing happened. We've just been busy with work and all!"

"Come on, Ady. I know you better than that. You two were inseperable when he started here, and now I don't think I've seen you talk to him in days. Did you guys have an argument or something?"

She sighed, the guilt weighing down her shoulders. "It's complicated. I don't want to get into it."

"Oh. Look, I get it if you don't wanna share. But just know that I'm here if you wanna talk. I care about you, so seeing you both like this is kinda hard."

"Thanks, Jack," her voice barely above a whisper. "Appreciate it."

"See you on the ice!"

"Yup."

God, what had she gotten herself into?

The rink was filled with sounds- the sharp scrape of skates on ice, the hollow thud of the puck hitting the boards, the shouted command of coaches, and the occasional shutter of Adelaide's camera lense. Luke Hughes moved with a ferocity that caught the attention of everyone on the ice. His usual smooth, calculated movements had been replaced by agressiveness. Every stride was powerful, every check delivered with a force that echoed through the arena.

"What's up with Rusty?" Jack muttered to Nico, who was stretching nearby.

Nico followed Jack's gaze. "Not sure, but he's been playing like he's possessed. Did something happen?"

Jack shrugged, keeping his eyes on Luke. "Don't know. He's been... off lately. Keeps to himself a lot more."

As practice continued, Luke's focus remained unbroken. He intercepted passes, delivered bone-rattling checks, and fired shots with pinpoint accuracy. His teammates began to whisper among themselves in the locker room, buzz building about the youngest Hughes.

"Hey, Lukey, what's going on with you?" Nico approached him.

Luke shrugged, "Focusing on my game. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you're playing like you're trying to prove something. Or like you're trying to forget something."

Luke clenched his jaws, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his towel. "Drop it, Nico. I'm just trying to play better."

"Alright, man. But if you need me, I'm here. Don't shut out the team."

Luke didn't respond, instead shoving his gear into his bag with a force that spoke for itself. Whatever was eating at him was serious, and the team feared it would affect more than just his game.

Adelaide was at her desk, her fingers flying against her keyboard as she edited photos from their last game. She was immersing herself in her work, hoping it would distract her from her inner turmoil. She was focusing on her job and spending as much time with Matt as possible.

The door to her office swung open, and Luke stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the small space. Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening at the determined look on his face.

"We need to talk," his voice barely concealing his anger.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Luke, I'm busy right now. Can it wait?"

"No," he said firmly, closing the door behind him. "We're not leaving this room until we sort this out."

"What is there to sort out? We made a mistake, and we need to move on."

"A mistake?" his voice rose. "Is that all it was to you?"

Adelaide flinched at his tone, "It's not that simple, Luke. You know it's not."

"Then make it simple for me," he demanded, stepping closer. "Do you have feelings for me or not?"

She looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze. "It doesn't matter what I feel. I'm with Matt. I've made a commitment to him."

Luke's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "So, you're just going to ignore what's between us? Pretend it doesn't exist?"

"What choice do I have?" she voice shook. "I love Matt. I can't just throw that away because I slept with you one time."

"Is that all you think this is? A fling?" his voice was filled with heart.

Adelaide felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "No, but it can't be more than that. It's too complicated."

Luke took a step back, "You're scared. You're scared to admit that you want something different. That you might actually care about me. That you aren't happy with Matt."

"That's not true," she whispered, her resolve crumbling. "I do care about you, but it's not fair to anyone if I act on it."

"Fair?" Luke scoffed. "Life isn't fair, Adelaide. You can't just ignore your feelings because it's inconvenient."

She shook her head, the tears spilling over. "I'm trying to do the right thing. I can't hurt Matt like this."

"And what about me?" his voice cracked. "Do I not matter?"

"Of course you matter," she cried, reaching out to him. "But I can't do this. I can't be with you."

Luke stared at her a moment, his breathing heavy. Then, without warning, he crossed the distance between them in two quick strides and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could react, his lips were on hers, kissing her with a desperation that took her breath away.

She was stunned at first, but then melted into it, her hands gripping his shirt to ground herself. For a moment, all her feelings of guilt and doubt vanished, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of being with him. Of being with Luke.

But reality crashed back in and she pulled away, panting. "Luke, we can't."

"Don't tell me you didn't feel that. Don't tell me you don't want this."

"I do want it. But I can't. I have to think about Matt. I have to think about everyone else."

Luke's shoulders fell, the fight leaving his body. "Fine. If that's how you feel, I'll back off. But don't expect me to just forget out this. About... us."

Adelaide sat back down, staring blankly at her computer screen. The photos she was supposed to be editing blurred together, her mind far too preoccupied. She sighed, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to clear her mind. They kiss that they had just shared haunted her, the memory replaying over and over again, making it impossible to do any work.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Matt: "Dinner tonight? Been missing you lately <3"

Guilt twisted her stomach as she typed back her response. "Sure, sounds great. I miss you too."

She hit send and put her phone down. She felt like a fraud. Everything felt tainted by her feelings for Luke. She decided to take a break from working, grabbing her coat and leaving the office. She was craving some fresh air. As she walked, she called Sarah. The one person she knew she could talk to about anything, and right now, she really needed her advice.

"Hey, Ady! What's up?"

"Hey, Sarah. Can you meet up? I really need to talk."

"Of course. How about the coffee shop near the area in fifteen?"

"Perfect. See you soon."

Adelaide arrived quickly and ordered herself a latte. When Sarah walked in, she felt a wave of relief. Sarah took one good look at her and knew something was wrong.

"What's going on, Ads?"

"I've messed up, Sarah. Big time."

Sarah reached across the table and held her hand. "Tell me everything."

Over the next hour, Adelaide spilled her guts to her confidante. Telling Sarah all about her feelings for Luke, the kiss, the night they spent together, and the guilt that was tearing her apart.

"Ady, it sounds like you're in a really tough spot. But you have to honest with yourself and with Matt. This isn't fair to anyone, especially not to you."

"I know. But I don't know how to choose. I care about them both so much."

"Maybe you need some time to figure things out. Take a step back, give yourself some space to think about what you really want."

"You're right I just need to clear my head. Thanks, Sar."

"No worries, Ads. That's what I'm here for."

"Luke, we need to talk."

"Not now, Jack," Luke muttered, not even looking away from the TV.

"Yeah, now," Jack insisted. "You've been acting insane. What's going on?"

"I can't, Jack. Just... drop it."

"Nope. Not happening," Jack sat next to him, turning off the TV. "Whatever this is, it's eating you alive. Talk to me."

Luke's frustration boiled over. "It's Adelaide, alright? We... we kissed. We... slept together. And then things got out of hand."

"You and Adelaide? Seriously?" Jack's eyes widened in shock.

"She said it was a mistake, that she loves Matt. But... I can't get her out of my head."

"Holy shit, Luke. That's... a lot. But you can't keep it bottled up. It's tearing you apart."

"I know... but I don't know what to do."

"Look, you need to talk to her. Clear the air. This tension is gonna kill ya both. And if she really loves Matt, you need to try to respect that and move on."

"Yeah. I know. But it's so damn hard."

"I get it, bro. But just take it one step at a time. And remember I'm here for you. Even when you royally fuck up like this."

That evening when Adelaide walked in the door, she could already feel Matt's anger. He was pacing back and forth in the living room.

"Adelaide. We need to talk," his voice was taut with anger.

"What about, Matt?"

"About us! About how distant you've been. It's like you're here, but you're not really here," he snapped, his eyes searching hers for an explanation.

"I've been under a lot of pressure with work. You know that."

"This isn't just about work, Ady! You've been avoiding me. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, it's about the team or the game. When was the last time we slept together? When was the last time you were focused on us? What happened to us?"

She felt a pang of guilt, but also a rush of anger. "Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your career, we wouldn't be having this problem! You're never around, Matt. And when you are, you don't speak to me!"

"That's not fair. You knew how important work was to me when we got together. I thought you supported me."

"I do support you, but I can't be the only one making sacrifices. This is a partnership, not a one-way street."

"A partnership? That's rich coming from you! You used to be my biggest cheerleader, and now I don't even recognize you!"

"Maybe I changed because you never made me feel like I mattered!" she spat back. "It's always been about you and your career, your dreams. What about mine, Matt? What about mine?"

"I never stopped you from chasing your dreams! You can't just blame all our problems on me! You made choices too."

Ady tried her best to think of a response, but Matt continued before she could.

"I can't do this anymore, Ady. I don't even know who you are anymore," his voice breaking with resignation.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we both need to figure out what we really want," she looked down at her feet.

"I thought we wanted the same thing. But I guess not. Maybe we've grown too far apart."

"I wish things were different, Matthew. I really do."

"Yeah, me too."

For a moment, it seemed like they were about to part ways without another word. But then Adelaide made a gut-wrenching decision. "Matt, there's something I need to tell you. I.... I cheated on you. With Luke."

The confession hit Matt like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with rage. "What did you just say?"

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was a mistake-"

"A mistake?" Matt exploded. "You think that's just a mistake? You've been lying to me, hiding things from me while I thought we were trying to fix things!"

Adelaide tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, his anger turning into something darker. "I didn't want to hurt you. I was confused, and I made a terrible choice."

His face turned red with fury, "You've betrayed me, Adelaide. You've crossed a line. I can't just let this go. You've been living a lie while I've been trying to make thing work."

"I'm so sorry, Matt. Just let me explain."

"No!" his voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls. "I don't want to hear it. You've shattered everything we had. I'm done. I can't even look at you right now."

Adelaide sat in her dimly lit apartment, feeling the weight of the last few days pressing down on her. The space felt unusually empty, and the silence was almost deafening. She had spent the entire day reflecting on everything that had transpired and was now preparing for an important conversation.

Her phone buzzed, signaling Luke's arrival. She took a deep breath and went to open the door.

Luke stood there, his expression a mixture of resolve and concern. "Hey," he said softly as he stepped inside.

"Hey," Adelaide replied, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "Thanks for coming over."

They moved to the living room, sitting across from each other. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words. Adelaide broke the silence first.

"I wanted to talk about everything that's happened. I know I've hurt you. And I've hurt Matt. And I need to take responsibility for that."

Luke nodded, his gaze was steady but pained. "I appreciate you saying that. I was hurt, and it's been hard trying to understand like... why everything went down the way it did."

"I never meant to hurt you. I was confused. Stuck in a relationship that had been loveless for a while. I was avoiding issues instead of talking about them."

"I get that. I was confused too. We both made mistakes, but we can acknowledge that."

"I think... no, I know that I want to be with you, Luke. I just... can we take things slow? Like super slow? I think I need to process everything that just happened," she giggled lowly.

"Yeah, of course. I'd like that a lot, Ady. Let's take this one day at a time.

"Sounds perfect."

Luke smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Now, why don't you tell me why I'm your favourite Hughes brother," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes, "If I must..."

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine

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goldsbitch · 8 months

Text

Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: please don't be offended by weak ass feminism debate, swear words, minors do not interact, just generally don't take this one too seriously, smut (that's what we came for)

He radiated stupidity. Reckless, annoying, careless and just plain stupid. Blood boiled hard and fast in Y/N when he entered the room. Cocky smile, as if he was the shit. And those poor fans did not even realize, because his PR managers worked around the clock to stop the scandals getting out and to remain his bubbly, down-to-earth image he seemed to hold in general public. Now, she never doubted his driving genius. It was honest respect on that part. No, this was about everything else. Even the way he grew his "so called" beard annoyed her.

She radiated arrogance. Being the first female driver on the grid had everyone looking differently at her, as it would be the opposite if she was just another rookie driver. He could not stand that. It felt strangely misogynistic. But what sent him to levels of annoyance he had not discovered prior to meeting her, was how she did absolutely nothing about this. Danced around as if she did not see it. But Lando could see through her, she was a calculating bitch that knew exactly what was happening.

It's not like either of them got it wrong really. Lando had his personality that did not correlate with the desired persona the public wanted him to maintain. For as long as he remembered, he had to be a grown up, missing his young adult experiences completely. Sometimes, it just got the better of him. Lando was not exactly proud of that or anything. Y/N was indeed calculating. But it would be hard to argue that she could have chosen not to do that - yet, the world was simply not ready for any kind of female driver to enter the grid. She had to be smarter than an average rookie. There is a possibility that this was all just in her head, but it was hard to prove it at this point.

They avoided talking to each other like they would avoid the plague. Lando felt like all the years of media training lead to the moments where they shared the interview room. Their disenchantment with each other was not exactly a known thing, they were deceitful enough to do keep it between themselves. Well, the more observant drivers and members of their team were well aware of the truth. There was not a single member of the close inner circle that would dare to speak about how when these two had to share the pre race interviews, it would be the driest interview of them all. Frankly, drivers dreaded that. Daniel would be the one to try and break the ice. George found it mildly amusing. Max could not give two shits about them.

And to the luck of everyone involved, there was Lando, set next to Alex Albon, who was sat next to Y/N. He sighed heavily before taking hold of the microphone.

First interviewer asked about the lasted updates on Y/N Aston Martin car. The second one went to Lando, with a request to address the bad strategy the team had on the last Grand Prix, which he answered very diplomatically.

Third interviewer asked Y/N on whether the talks have started regarding her contract for the upcoming season.

"Yes, we are talking about that. I love racing and I'm planning on staying here," she laughed lightly. "I want to be here to...possibly to inspire and attract young girls, same as those like Fernando was a role model to both Alex and Lando. The female audience of F1 is growing and that is absolutely amazing. And perhaps now will the female fans have an opportunity to cheer for one of their own."

"May I have a question?" Lando entered the chat. His tone was indicating fire being lit within him and him intending to spread it wide. The game was on. Y/N tensed up. Alex smiled nervously.

Both Lando and Y/N shot a look at the interview moderator, who was prepared for many scenarios, but not this one exactly. Once Lando received an unsure nod, he continued. "We both know the numbers, we sit on similar meetings. The percentage of female audience is now nearing almost half, is that correct?"

"Well, we are nowhere near that - more like 30-40%"

"Right. And this trend has started prior to you joining the grid, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Are you saying that the female viewers did not have anyone to connect with before that?"

"I'd be brave enough to assume so. Where are you heading?"

Alex wanted to stop them, he shot looks to multiple people who had the power to end this. Members present from both teams woke up from their slow mundane afternoon. But the conversation was too fast for anyone to interrupt.

"So, what was the motivation of the female viewers to watch F1? Why were they watching?"

"Um, well the sport is fascinating and can capture one. The quality of our media teams has risen greatly, social media and-"

"Yes. So are you saying that young boys and teenagers were watching this for a different reason that girls and any other genders?"

"Like I was saying, it might be hard to connect. Young boys and teenagers can relate and even imagine themselves as the future F1 driver."

"So why do, in your opinion, little girls and female teenagers watch races? Are you saying that prior to your start, their reasons were less valid? Less noble? Does miss misogyny over here think that female audience is now validated due to her representation in the sport?"

The room went silent. Y/N took a deep breath and without missing a beat she replied.

"I'm sorry, there must have been something foul in your cornflakes this morning. After all, even in these progressive times, some of the people involved did not get the memo about the way how to interact with the fanbase in a healthy manner. It must be hard hard to think straight and not draw over-the-top conclusions when one's mind is stuck in an endless cycle of "Hello, gorgeous" and "Sure, I'll text you back.""

Alarmed looks were shared accros the room. Alex tried to laugh it off. The moderator ended the discussion. The pair kept staring at each other, until their prompted their exits orchestrated by their team.

Asshole. Obnoxious idiot. She wanted to slap him. The social media was on fire, this topic clearly resonating among fans. It was clear the opinions were divided and this was just not good to have on your track record. She was mad at herself as well. Got caught up like a fly to a spiderweb. He won this one. She'll just have to beat him during the race or shoot him in the leg at the next opportunity.

"Stay true to your beliefs" was the caption under his newly posted photo. Smiling as ever. Some photographer with under-appreciated talent managing to capture him in the perfect light. Total thirst trap. Her PR team was figuring out how to salvage this, but everyone knew Lando stuck a good one this time.

But that was not the opinion of the McLaren media team, who really did work their butts off the last few months. This was not good, as his haters were currently busy pointing out holes in his argument, making Y/N the hero they wanted to have. PR team picked the photo of him they had in store in order to play it safe and nonchalantly. Lando got a big threatening talk right after the press conference. McLaren was not letting the word misogyny be connected to their brand. He defended himself for a while, but at the end agreed to avoid bringing these subjects to light prior to the knowledge of the team. In his eyes, she won. He got her free attention. The nickname miss misogyny was not going to stick. The only thing this brough him was a headache and built up anger.

She was bursting with anger and was not about to leave it in for herself. "You can stick this bullshit up you ass, Lando."

"Don't assume I like the same things you do," was his immediate response.

Confidentiality. That was the only thing she believed he could uphold. Both of them had too much to loose.

They were bad for each other. Bringing out the worst traits, putting others in discomfort and creating drama out of nowhere. But the once the night covered the daily routines and worries, the truth would start crawling out. Once the chequered flag got packed up after a race, it was time for a parade of red flags to begin.

It was suppose to be a one time mistake. Party that go out of hand. Club bathroom sex that was better than they'd be willing to admit. They never spoke of it. Nobody knew.

Like magnets they circled towards each other on the quiet nights on the road. Always her place, never his. As if she'd make the effort to come toward him. Like he would ever let her invade his private safe space. It worked for them, transforming the anger into rough bites and hickeys. Lando enjoyed leaving them on her, just at the line where he knew she'd have to think about how to cover them up and made sure she never made any mark on him. Hate fucking, that's what that was.

Once again, his hot breath cut through the crispy Monaco night air coming from the opened window of her bedroom. He had her handcuffed to the bed side and legs wrapped around his toned torso. He was driving her crazy, not letting her stay on top this time, robbing her of the pleasure of watching him submit to her moves and direction. He watched attentively, making sure he changed his tempo whenever she was about to climax. She was not one to enjoy delayed gradification, not when this obnoxious idiot was watching her and having fun with it. One thing he had to admit was that she was fucking hot, mainly in the way how she able to carry herself around. From the first moment he had the misfortune to see her in person, it had been the one thought unable to leave his mind. What did she look like when she was just about to come? Was she the one to make any sounds? Did she like it rough or soft? Would she be able to dominate him? During the day, he let his frustrations out verbally, during the night he thrusted into her as if there was no tomorrow. Like a drug addict getting his hit. She was even more mad at him when he was fucking her. Because it was just so good. They had the same rhythm and their bodies spoke in a language no one would have understood anyway. So she just surrendered. It drove her crazy, not being on the top. He licked and bit her nipples and did forbidden things - like stopped fucking her out of nowhere and buried his head in her waist, slowly twisting his tongue around her clit. When he felt like she adjusted to that, he continued back with thrusting in her. He moved so fast that she started get dizzy from the motion, the heavenly kind of dizzy. Lando watched her like and animal would observe his prey. Not often did he manage to get completely under his control, but tonight was one of the precious days he'd be recalling in the shower days after. He delayed his own orgasm for as long as he could, but there was a point where he just gave in and released him into the condom. There was always a hint of disappointment in the joyous moment. His darkest wish was to have her walk the day after with his cum dripping out of her. She was his little work slut, his nemesis, his Vegas girl.

Y/N never wanted to cuddle afterwards. She appreciated that Lando always swiftly got up and left without a word. Because what if he had spoken, what if the oxytocin started flowing in and she'd loose her guard and get herself in even bigger of a mess than this little game was. She was the first female driver. There were things she had to prove to the world. Fucking one of the other drivers was not one of them.

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theemporium · 3 months

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[14.5k] ethan edwards was prepared for his rookie year in the nhl. he just wasn't prepared for a rat infestation, an unlikely roommate and to fall in love too. (smutty scenes mostly implied)

aka a fic based in the future when ethan finally joins the devils so don’t take anything remotely seriously!

happy birthday @httplando!! enjoy the belated birthday fic🤠gonna go mute you now before you spam my phone with voice notes of you giggling over ethan xoxo

SEPTEMBER

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He had long come to terms with the fact he was in the National Hockey League. It still felt surreal but the reality had long sunk in since the day he was drafted. This was his goal. This was his dream. And he had made it.

And he knew it would be different from hockey in any other league he had played. He knew it would be faster, harder, more demanding than college hockey. He knew that he would be pushing his body to levels he had never experienced. He knew he was mentally going to go through some of the toughest months of his life as he settled into the big leagues. He knew he was taking the sport he loved to a whole new level and he was prepared for that.

He was prepared for his rookie year.

He wasn’t prepared to fall in love with you.

More than that, he wasn’t prepared to fall in love and not fucking realise it. Especially when you were his fucking roommate.

Though, when he thought about it, the signs from the universe directing you onto his life path was there long before his first game as a New Jersey Devil.

“Have you signed for a place yet?” Luke had asked him during the summer, somewhere in the days between wakeboarding and sunbathing and enjoying the freedom of his last stress-free summer before he entered the professional league.

“I’ve got a few potential options but it’s fine,” Ethan had replied, dozing off on the sunlounger with his eyes closed beneath his sunglasses. “I’ve got time before training camp starts. There’s no rush.”

And honestly? It was his own stupid ignorance that led to the karma of his current situation.

“We do apologise, Mr Edwards, but there is nothing we can do. The building manager won’t be able to fix the problems before your move in date and we have no available lots to accommodate you until the problems are solved.”

Ethan tried to let the woman’s soothing voice calm him, but it was hard to find any peace in the words she was saying. “So, I’m homeless?”

“Once again, we do apologise for the inconvenience but the apartment is completely inhabitable.”

Because of fucking course he would find himself scrambling for last minute accommodation in Jersey, days before he was meant to meet his new team and start settling in to his rookie year. The universe couldn’t be too nice to him, not in the year he knew was going to be one of the roughest of his life.

So, he did what any sane person would do and had a total breakdown on the phone to his mother. And then he called Luke, feeling somewhat spiteful that the boy jinxed his luck earlier that summer. The least he could do is help him out now.

After Luke had spent the first five minutes laughing because, in his words, “who the fuck has a rat infested apartment in Jersey?”

“Can you help me or not?” Ethan sighed, fingers pressed against his temples in hopes it would ease the ache that had been lingering behind his eyes since he first picked up the phone from the estate agent that morning.

“I mean, I’m sure Nico or one of the other guys wouldn’t mind taking you in. Jack stayed with—” Luke started but a distressed noise from Ethan cut him short.

“Yeah but Jack was, like, eighteen. I’m meant to be a fucking college graduate,” Ethan grumbled, his cheeks burning. “What impression would that set for the guys on the team?”

Luke paused. “You’re absolutely reading far too much into this.”

Ethan scoffed. “I think my reaction is justified.”

“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled under his breath before sighing. “I have a friend that was looking for a roommate, actually. You could always stay with them until your place is sorted. The apartment isn’t too far from the rink.”

“Someone on the team?”

“No, someone else.”

Ethan blinked. “You have friends outside of hockey? Outside of me?”

“Yes, Ethan, I have other friends. You aren’t my only friend.”

“You think you know people and they stab you in the back,” Ethan sighed, far too dramatically (in Luke’s opinion).

“Look, do you want the place or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan quickly spoke up. “That would be perfect. Send me your friend’s number.”

Now, when Luke had told Ethan that he had a friend—a non-hockey friend, at that—that was looking for a roommate, he wasn’t exactly sure what or who was expecting. He didn’t like to make assumptions on people when he knew little to nothing about them. It didn’t feel polite.

But he feels like he’s pretty fucking justified in feeling duped by the youngest Hughes brother when he finds out his new roommate isn’t a guy at all.

In Ethan’s opinion, that feels like pretty fucking important information to reveal before he shows up at your door with his car down below packed up with bags and boxes down in the carpark.

Because now, he looks like a fucking idiot when you open the door and he is left standing there, frozen and mouth open like a fish whilst every English word is thrown out of his head.

“You must be Ethan,” you said eventually, because Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to speak after a painful thirty seconds. “Luke’s friend?”

“Uh yeah,” he cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by his reaction with blushing cheeks. “Thank you so much, by the way. You’re really doing me a huge favour.”

“Luke said you were desperate.”

Ethan wanted to disagree but he couldn’t. Not really.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he tried to laugh off, though your face remained mostly unimpressed. “So—”

“Your room is the one on the left. Your bathroom is right next door. Three cupboards have been emptied for you in the kitchen and you have the top shelves in the fridge,” you stated, so matter-of-factly that Ethan could only blink in response. “Any questions?”

“No?”

“Great,” and with that, you wandered further into the apartment, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway dumbfounded.

…

OCTOBER

It didn’t take long for Ethan to realise you had some walls around you, and small talk was certainly not the way to get past them.

It was a shift to the roommates he was used to, fresh out of college and having spent the better part of the last four years staying with some of his closest friends and teammates. But it wasn’t totally unwelcome on his part. It was kind of nice to have a space that wasn’t so…hockey.

And it helped that he had his own space.

September passed in the blink of an eye and soon training camp became the real deal. It felt surreal to think he was really in the NHL now, that he was a professional hockey player, that this was his job and his livelihood now.

But it also felt fucking great.

The schedule of an NHL player was no joke and it was certainly not something Luke exaggerated—despite what Ethan assumed during the summer. It was intense and tiring and he didn’t have much time to think about anything else.

Except maybe his ice cold, standoffish roommate.

As the regular season began, Ethan had come to a few conclusions.

One: you were not a morning person, especially before having any form of caffeine. That was something he learnt the hard way.

Early morning practices were nothing new to Ethan. He wasn’t exactly an early bird, but his body had trained itself to familiarise itself with the early mornings after years and years of playing hockey. It was the norm for him, to be awake as the sun started peeking through the horizon and the rest of the world was about to wake up.

He wouldn’t call himself chipper, not really. He was just as energetic as he normally is.

You seemed to disagree.

“Morning, stranger!” Ethan greeted you as you shuffled into the kitchen, with a boyish grin on his face and a spatula in hand.

You didn’t even glance at him as you shuffled towards the fridge.

“Not a morning person, got it,” Ethan nodded, biting back his smile as you turned to glare at him.

“It’s half six in the morning,” you grumbled. “Why are you so loud?”

“My mum says it’s a part of my charm.”

You didn’t look very amused in response.

The following mornings seemed to fit the same routine. Even on the days he didn’t have practice or meetings, Ethan would find himself waking up early and starting his day around the same time you would be up for work. He would be chatty, you would look like you wanted to gauge his eyes out. It was oddly comforting.

Somewhere in the middle of the second week of this fixed routine, he began to feel confident enough in watching your routine to know exactly what you needed the second you walked out your room.

“Good morning!”

You blinked, staring at the steaming mug he was currently offering you. It took you a few seconds to process the sight before you realised you hadn’t spoken.

“What’s this?” You questioned, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Coffee. Made exactly the way you like it.” Ethan stayed confidently, his grin widening as you took a sip and let out an appreciative hum.

“Thanks,” was all you said before shuffling around the kitchen to continue with the rest of his routine.

On the days he was in Jersey, there was always a coffee cup waiting for you every morning.

Two: you were always cold. Always. No matter what the temperature was outside.

In all honesty, Ethan didn’t get it at all. From what he had gathered in his conversations with you and what Luke told him, you had spent a fair chunk of your life in New Jersey so, if he was being honest, he thought you would have been somewhat used to the colder temperatures.

But walking into the apartment after afternoon practice to find you bundled on the couch like you were in a blizzard told Ethan that assumption was far from the truth.

“Did the heating break?” was the first thing he asked when he saw you, a wave of concern washing over him as he dumped his bags at the door and made his way to the thermostat.

“No,” you murmured from somewhere in the pile of blankets. “S’just cold.”

Ethan paused, reading the thermostat before turning back to you with an amused expression on his face. “It’s kinda warm for Jersey in October today.”

There was a bit of rustling before your head popped up from amongst the blankets, your eyes narrowed in accusation. “Not all of us are professional athletes sweating their asses off for two hours.”

“In an ice rink,” he added with a grin.

Your glare hardened.

“Do you want a hot water bottle?”

You paused for a few moments before nodding with a sheepish expression. “Please.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh before he made his way into the kitchen, kettle filled and turned on before he went to hunt down the hot water bottle he was pretty sure his mother had packed away somewhere in his stuff when he moved away from Michigan.

He returned a few minutes later, lightly nudging the pile of blankets until your face popped up again and your eyes softened at the hot water bottle. He couldn’t help but giggle at the way you quickly snatched it from him, murmuring your thanks as it disappeared under the blankets.

“Any time,” Ethan said, and he meant it.

Three: you really didn’t open up to strangers. Or roommates. Or anyone, really.

He wasn’t exactly sure how Luke Hughes of all people managed to wiggle his way into a friendship with you, but it was an anomaly that had been wracking his brain for the last few weeks.

It was a week or so before Halloween and he was laying on the couch, his brows furrowed together as he tried to scroll through the internet for an idea of what he could wear to the Halloween party one of the boys were hosting.

“Why do you look constipated?”

His head snapped up, finding you standing at the end of the couch. You had two smoothies in your hand, the bag you take to your classes still on your shoulder and your shoes still on. He briefly glanced at the time, frowning a little when he realised he had been sitting there for the better part of two hours before he turned back to you.

“Trying to figure out a last minute Halloween costume,” he told you, eyebrows raised in surprise as you handed him one of the smoothies. He smiled as he took it, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp before you settled down on the other side of the couch. “I wanted to do something with Seamus and Luke but Seamus said he had his sorted and Luke said he was doing a joint costume with someone else.”

“Oh yeah, me,” you answered casually and Ethan tried to hide his shock.

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah?” You responded, giving him an odd look. “Luke always invites me to these things. He’s also hopeless with costumes.”

“I didn’t realise you and Luke were so…close,” he said vaguely, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised what his words sounded like. “Not that it’s any of my business—”

“You’re right, it’s not.” You shrugged, taking a long sip from your smoothie before continuing. “But he’s one of my closest friends.”

Ethan nodded, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at your words. “How did you two meet?”

“The strip club.”

Ethan blanched.

“Geez, you’re more gullible than Luke,” you commented, the hint of a smile on your lips. “You ask a lot of questions, Edwards.”

“I’m a nosy person,” he answered honestly with a shrug. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Because there isn’t much to it.”

And, in your defence, he knew you didn’t owe him any answers. But he was curious and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around how close you and Luke were—close enough for you to willingly accept one of Luke’s friends as your roommate for an indefinite amount of time.

And, at the crux of it, he didn’t understand how Luke was able to get through to you when he couldn’t.

Ethan was never one to brag but he was a magnet for people. It helped him thrive in hockey, always willing to be that guy on the team that people feel like they could always talk to. It helped him thrive at university, being a social butterfly that could always make a friend in any situation.

It usually helped.

So yeah, maybe Ethan was a little stumped why you didn’t seem to want to be his friend, not in the way you were with Luke and some of the other guys on the team. It seemed like being your roommate added a wall he didn’t know how to break down.

And when the Halloween party happened, it felt like seeing a whole new person when you were chatting and laughing with Luke.

You looked more at ease as you stood next to him, happily sipping on whatever drink he had gotten for you from the kitchen. You seemed more relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you laughed at whatever joke Curtis had made at Luke’s expense.

It fuelled a fire for Ethan, one he hadn’t realised had been started before that night. But he didn’t just want to be your roommate anymore, he didn’t like having that wall between you.

He wanted to be your friend too.

…

NOVEMBER

Three months into the NHL told Ethan that it was really no joke.

He was expecting the more intense training and physical playing. He was expecting his body to feel more tired, more hungry, more sore. He was expecting the ruthless journalists and vocal fans and tougher coaches.

He wasn’t expecting the mental toll of realising that hockey was all he had in his life.

It was stupid to complain about, considering it was his dream and all, but it was true. Hockey was his whole world right now. He woke up thinking about hockey, he went to the rink thinking about hockey, he made his dinner thinking about hockey, and then he went to sleep thinking about hockey.

Nine times out of ten, he dreamt about hockey too.

It was different to the hockey he knew growing up, or the hockey he experienced in Michigan. Because at least in Michigan, there were classes or parties or concerts or something to take his mind off hockey.

But it wasn’t the same in New Jersey.

There were hangouts with Luke and Seamus, or team bonding sessions organised by Nico. There were drinks at the bar after a good game to celebrate, or a particularly bad one they needed cheering up after. There were fun trips around cities he had never properly explored when they were away on roadies.

But it was all still linked to hockey.

And he guessed he wasn’t great at hiding his conundrum when Nico skated up beside him near the end of practice, throwing out the offer to grab a coffee and chat after they finished their debrief with the coaching staff.

For what it was worth, Nico didn’t think he sounded stupid when he explained himself. If anything, the captain was quite understanding.

“I had it when I first moved,” he had confessed as they sat in some urban coffee shop in a part of the city Ethan hadn’t properly explored before. But Nico swore up and down it had the best coffee to offer. “I was young and I was here for hockey so I thought my whole life had to be hockey.”

“What changed?” Ethan asked, hands wrapped around the big mug his latte was in like it would give him something to do, something to focus on rather than the restless itch under his skin.

“The older guys,” Nico said with a knowing smile. “The ones that learnt how to balance life and hockey. The ones with wives and families and friends outside of the team.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed together. “You think I should go get married?”

“Not right away,” Nico laughed, shaking his head. “But I know how easy it is to get wrapped up in the rookie year nonsense and everything. And you should be enjoying that, for sure. But there’s more to life than hockey, which is quite hard to believe right now. But it’s true, whether it’s a wife—or husband—and family or a hobby or a group of friends you can be a different Ethan with.”

Ethan nodded, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. “Hobbies?”

“Yeah, something different to hockey,” Nico explained. “Something that doesn’t require you to give up too much time and take your focus away from hockey, but instead be a respite from everything. Like cooking!”

He blinked. “Cooking?”

“You cook right now because you have to and you follow the diet plan the trainers give you. But you can find enjoyment in cooking because you want to,” Nico assured him, leaning back in his chair with a sure expression. “Give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

As it turns out, the worst that could happen is that Ethan is a fucking horrible cook.

He tried to hold back his coughs, waving the tea towel aimlessly under the beeping fire alarm before he raced to the windows in hopes they would help get rid of the smoke. Or at least get the alarm to stop.

The one meal outside of his diet plan and he almost burned the apartment complex down trying to cook it.

Go figure.

He had collapsed on the couch an hour later, two pizza boxes lying on the table in front of him as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone. He didn’t lift his head when he heard the front door lock turning but did freeze when he heard you cough a little.

“Fuck, why does it smell like a shitty barbeque in here?”

Ethan turned to you, a sheepish expression on his face as he lifted one of the pizza boxes as a peace offering. “Does pizza count as a ‘sorry for almost burning the place down’ gift?”

You eyed the pizza box and then his face before you took the seat next to him. “Normally I would say no but you look like you had a pretty rough time, so I’ll accept it this time.”

“Geez, thanks,” Ethan snorted.

“What were you even trying to cook anyways?” You questioned, taking a silence of margarita pizza and taking a large bite. You resisted the urge to let out a moan. “Fuck, I’m glad whatever it was. I couldn’t be bothered cooking today.”

“Rough shift?” Ethan asked.

“Bitchy manager was on tonight,” you added with a grumble.

“Fucking Jerry,” Ethan tsked, shaking his head.

You turned to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m delaying. There’s a difference,” Ethan corrected.

You hummed. “Okay, so why are you delaying?”

Ethan shrugged, turning his attention to the pizza box open on the coffee table in front of him. “S’stupid, no big deal. Promise.”

You were silent for a few moments before you spoke. “Is this the point where I take the bait and beg for you to tell me why you’re upset?”

He snorted, but it at least wrangled a smile out of him. “I’m not stressed. Just…overwhelmed.”

“With hockey?” You asked, but there was no malice or teasing in your voice. Just curiosity.

“I know this is what I wanted but it’s just…so much. I’ve never had hockey be everything in my life, there was always something else. And now I feel like I’m drowning and no matter how much I keep kicking, I’m no closer to the surface. And the older guys seem so put together and I was trying to take their advice but it isn’t really working out and—” Ethan paused, his cheeks flushing a light pink colour when he realised he had begun rambling. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you replied and he was almost shocked to see the sincerity on your face. “It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed. It’s a big jump. It would be weirder if you weren’t more stressed.”

He swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you began, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table as you turned your body on the couch until you were facing him. “Your life will never be normal again. You’ve been shoved into the spotlight and you will continue to be there forever. That’s overwhelming as fuck. And you’re trying to catch up with a bunch of guys who have been here for years, who have had seasons to figure out who they are and who they want to be. It was always going to be an uphill battle.”

Something in his chest warmed at your understanding.

“Guess I have a lot to look forward to then, huh?” He tried joking because it felt easier than trying to say the words that were getting stuck in the back of his throat.

“I get it,” you explained with a small nod. “Not at the same level, but I get it. Every day I wake up and I know I’m working towards the thing I want to do for the rest of my life but, fuck, some days are just harder than others. I feel like I’m sacrificing so much of my ‘best years’ doing this and sometimes I just…wonder if it’s worth it.”

“That’s intense,” Ethan murmured with his lips turned downwards.

You gave him a sad smile. “Life can be overwhelming in a lot of ways. It’s just about finding things that help us…destress, I guess.”

“Which is hard to do when you’re a rookie in the NHL who doesn’t know who the fuck he is anymore or a student spending every free moment working her ass off in a shitty job with a shitty manager to pay for college,” Ethan added with a sorrowful smile of his own.

“Bingo,” you snorted.

“So,” Ethan sighed as he settled back against the couch. “What’s our game plan?”

You raised your brows. “Game plan?”

“Yeah, what are we gonna do to destress? We can help each other,” Ethan stated like it was obvious. “Like a ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ situation.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not scratching your back.”

Ethan tilted his head, a grin on his lips. “So I’m assuming massages are off the table too?”

His laugh echoed through the apartment as you threw a pillow at his face.

If Ethan was being completely honest, he didn’t think finding a destressing hobby would be so…stressful.

He had tried asking a few other guys on the team for inspiration and advice. It hadn’t been as successful as he had hoped. Though, at least he knew a handful of weird facts about the boys he played with, so it wasn’t completely useless. Team bonding and all that jazz.

But the hobby-searching was starting to reach a point where he thought about it more than hockey.

He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with him. So many of the guys on the team had shared the hobbies they had outside of hockey to help relax. He even spoke to some of the UMich boys that had joined the NHL before him for some advice too. But nothing really clicked, nothing shut his brain off.

Golfing was too time-consuming to enjoy during the regular season. The mediocre attempt at knitting resulted in a massive knotted ball of yarn being chucked into the bin. He tried reading but got bored after the first few chapters. And it felt a bit pathetic and mind-numbing (the bad kind) when he found himself watching the third episode in a row of some trashy reality TV show that had been playing.

Nothing was giving him that relief and that step away from the busy, hectic schedule an NHL player brought.

“You got a new potential hobby for us?”

Ethan lifted his head to see you closing the front door behind you, bundled in about five layers of clothing you were slowly deshedding before you made your way over to him. He watched as your eyes went to the mess on the coffee table, your lips pressed together to hold back your laugh.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, tilting your head like it would help you figure out the little project he had been working on since you left for your class a few hours ago.

“It’s meant to be a model plane,” Ethan sighed, a tad too dramatic before he turned to you with a pout on his face. “Johnny said it was easy. He used to do them when he was, like, ten years old. I think he is lying to me.”

You snorted. “Or maybe he followed the instructions.”

Ethan frowned. “There’s instructions?”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughs as you settled on the couch beside him. There was a hint of deja vu to that day a few weeks ago—the day Ethan likes to believe the start of your buddying friendship began.

“You’ll find something,” you reassured him, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“I think some of the guys are just messing with me with some of the hobbies they suggest,” Ethan confessed. “Curtis does not seem like a knitter at all.”

You laughed. “Yeah no, he was definitely messing with you.”

“Knew it,” Ethan grumbled before shrugging. “Seamus thinks I’m just being dramatic.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” you retorted.

He shot you a look but you didn’t seem too bothered by his glare.

“He thinks I just need to get laid,” Ethan murmured, his eyes settling back on the lump on the coffee table that was supposed to resemble a plane.

“So why don’t you?”

Ethan blinked as he turned back to you. “Why don’t I, what?”

“Why don’t you just go get laid?” You asked, turning your body slightly so you were properly facing him. “Are you a virgin?”

Ethan startled. “What? No. No, I’m not a virgin.”

“Then I can’t imagine it would be too difficult for you to find someone.”

“Thanks?” Ethan frowned a little before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, s’just a little much right now. I don’t really wanna go and sleep with anyone. And I’m a little too busy to properly start something with someone, you know? It wouldn’t be fair on them if I was…flaky.”

“What if we slept together?”

Ethan let out a choked noise of surprise.

You gave him an odd look. “What?”

“Us? Sleep together? Like sex?” Ethan blurted out, his voice a little more high pitched than usual.

“Well, I don’t mean just having a sleepover,” you answered with a shrug.

His brows furrowed together. “Would it not be…weird?”

“No, why would it be?” You retorted, sounding so sure of yourself. “I’m busy, you’re busy. I guess you’re attractive and if you find me attractive too, I don’t see what the issue is. It’s convenient for us both.”

His eyes narrowed. “You guess I’m attractive?”

“This is not the time for your ego,” you huffed, though he could see your lips twitching upwards.

“No no, this is the perfect time for my ego,” Ethan started, his back straightening as he sat up in his seat.

“Are you in or not?”

His eyes dropped down to your lips for a few moments before returning to your eyes. “Y-Yeah, I’m in.”

…

DECEMBER

As it would turn out, it was far from weird. It was actually pretty fucking great.

The awkward tension Ethan expected to rise from the first time you two slept together didn’t actually happen. The next day, everything was back to normal and, if it weren’t for the hickeys dotted over his torso, he would have assumed he dreamt the whole thing up.

It was surprisingly refreshing. The buddying friendship between you and Ethan continued to grow as the days passed, just like he wanted, there was just also the added bonus that sometimes the two of you fucked to let off some steam.

And as much as it pained him to say, Seamus was right. He just needed to get laid. He just needed to go back to something he knew he would always be good at, that didn’t take up too much space in his brain and felt as natural as breathing to him.

He just needed to feel someone else’s body pressed up against him, whispered moans of his name doing more to help shut up that voice in the back of his head far better than the crowds of fans screaming and chanting his name.

He was really missing out for all these with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

“Ethan.”

“Hm?”

“We can’t.”

“I think we can,” he murmured against your neck, his smile pressed against your skin as he placed a line of chaste kisses just below your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered close as his large hand splayed against your stomach, fingers brushing over your heated skin as he settled on the bed behind you. “You’re gonna miss your bus,” you managed to mutter out, a little breathless as you felt him rolling his hips against your ass.

“They won’t leave without me,” he assured you as he tugged you further back into him. Your panties had been kicked off somewhere under the sheets, not that either of you cared enough to give it a second thought. It just made it easier for Ethan to slip his hand between your legs, to listen to the choked noise of surprise you let out when his finger pressed on your clit.

“That’s not how it works,” you murmured, letting out a whine when he stilled his hand between your legs, focusing on marking the spot at the base of your neck that made your arch against him. “You’re gonna miss the bus and the team will be annoyed and you’re gonna—”

“Shhhh,” Ethan mumbled against your skin. “Too much talking.”

“Ethan.”

He let out a groan, his head dropping to your shoulder where he pressed a soft kiss there before lifting his head to shoot you a look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured with a snort. “It’s a seven day roadie. You’ll survive.”

“Maybe I’m really stressed about it,” he shot back. “Maybe a quickie before I leave would help me destress.”

You shook your head in amusement. “You’d be a lot less stressed if you weren’t thirty minutes late already.”

Ethan’s head snapped over to the clock on your bedside table. “Shit.”

“Told you so!” You called out as he scrambled his way towards the bathroom for the quickest shower of his life.

“Shut up!”

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?” Ethan questioned, leaning down to lace up his skates with the efficiency of a man who had spent the better part of his life in ice skates. He didn’t notice the shit-eating grin on Luke’s face until he sat back up and found the boy staring at him. “What?”

“Well, either the rats from your old apartment have found your new place and decided to take revenge or there’s a different reason for the marks on your back,” Luke retorted with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Marks are an understatement,” Seamus snorted, sitting on the stall on the other side of Ethan. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being stuck between the two of them. “Your back is mauled, dude. Who did you sleep with, a werewolf?”

“No,” Ethan scoffed, his cheeks burning red. “Don’t be jealous you can’t get the same reaction out of a girl.”

“So there’s a girl?” Luke chimed in, like the little nosey shit he was.

“Maybe,” Ethan answered vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just a casual thing. Nothing serious.”

“Glad you finally took my advice,” Seamus grinned.

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“What’s her name?” Luke asked.

To be fair, you and Ethan never discussed the logistics of your situation beyond the actual sex part. He enjoyed the little bubble the two of you shared in your apartment. It was like the two of you forgot there were other people, that the signs would be there for people to pick up on. And he wasn’t exactly sure if it was something you would want people to know, even Luke.

He tried to bargain with himself that it wasn’t serious so there was no need for Luke or the other boys to know. You two were just scratching an itch for each other, that’s it. You were still friends at the end of the day, he didn’t want to ruin that because other people thought there was something more serious.

Ethan shrugged. “Uh, you don’t know her.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “So surely it doesn’t matter if we know her name or not.”

“It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything,” Ethan retorted, squirming a little under Luke’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Coach wants us out in five minutes.”

“Subtlety is not your forte, Edwards,” Luke snorted in response.

The roadie ends up being a complete shit show.

Three games and they lost every single one of them. Three games and the loss just got worse with each game, with the final game being an embarrassing 5-1 loss. And all the boys were upset and annoyed about the results, but Ethan felt like he was going to lose his mind.

His suit felt uncomfortable and itchy against his body, like some foreign layer he desperately wanted to shed. His skin felt taut and stretched across his bones, the urge to claw at his skin so overwhelming that he forced himself to focus on picking the skin around his nails instead because it was less likely to get him odd looks from the other boys.

He had ignored Luke and Seamus’ attempts at pep-talks in the locker room, both boys seeming determined to try and reassure him the loss was not his fault—like it would stop the fumbled plays playing on a loop in his head. He watched Nico climb onto the bus, eyeing the empty seat next to him but he wasn’t in the mood to be babysat by his captain. He put his bag on the chair next to him and put his headphones on, pretending he couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes on him.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when they finally arrived back in New Jersey, but he didn’t care to know. He didn’t give anyone a chance to pull him back for a chat. He grabbed his bags and bolted to his car, wanting nothing more than to get out of his suit and just mope in his bed until practice in a few days.

Ethan wasn’t expecting for you to still be awake.

He jumped when he spotted you on the couch, the TV still on but on mute as it played some random sitcom he couldn’t quite remember the name of. His eyes wandered over your figure, huddled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs and a Devils branded hoodie he didn’t quite know whether it was one of your own or one of his. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” you spoke up, breaking the weird, tense silence that seemed to be suffocating the apartment since he walked in.

“We left just after the game,” he replied, his voice a little raspy considering it was the first time he had spoken since the end of the game. “Boys wanted to get home.”

You nodded. “M’glad you’re back. The place is pretty quiet without you.”

It was lighthearted. It was an opening for him to plaster on a smile and pretend he was okay. It was a chance for him to escape the same awkward conversations he avoided from his teammates.

But he was tired—the bone deep kind—and he didn’t have it in himself to keep pretending. Not in front of you.

“I’m not sure I’m feeling very talkative right now,” he admitted, swallowing back the acidic taste in his mouth, the one that had been lingering since he stepped on the bus with all his disappointed teammates.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you reassured him as you patted the spot on the couch beside you. “We can just sit in absolute silence if you want.”

“I’m not sure I want that either,” he confessed as his body slumped against the couch, melting into the fabric as he tried to ignore the constant buzzing voices in his head. “Just wanna forget the last week, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” you hummed in agreement. “The refs were biassed dicks anyways. It wasn’t fair.”

He turned his head to look at you, his surprise clearly expressed on his face. “You watched?”

“I did,” you gave him a soft smile. “It wasn’t a pretty sight. I’m surprised the neighbours didn’t make a noise complaint against me when they put Luke in the box.”

And despite himself, he couldn’t help but snort. “They had it out for him and Jack.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Dicks.”

His lips twitched upwards. “Dicks indeed.”

Ethan let his head fall back against the back of the couch, let the exhaustion settle in as his eyes fluttered shut and, for the first time in the last week, let himself have some semblance of relaxation even if his brain was still on overdrive.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” you started and his body instantly tensed up at your words. And maybe you would feel his body lock up, considering his thigh was pressed against yours and the couch wasn’t all that big either. “But I am here if you want to talk. Have someone who’s not on the team to listen to you.”

He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “Just feel like I let them down.”

“You didn’t,” your voice soft but sincere. “And I bet the boys would agree.”

“I just…” he let out a sigh, keeping his eyes closed because it somehow made the next few sentences easier to say out loud. “I know no one likes losing. I would be a pretty bad professional athlete if I liked losing. But, I don’t know, it just…sucks more now.”

“Because the stakes are higher?”

“Because there’s more people seeing my mistakes,” he murmured, his words short and sharp. “This is all unreal. Being able to live out my dream and play in the NHL. But every time I make a mistake, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m waiting for someone to tell me it’s all a joke or I have been moved down or I get dropped and that’s the end of my career.”

There was a short pause.

“I’m scared it’s all gonna be for nothing.”

He wasn’t sure what response he expected. Truthfully, he had no intentions of ever telling you any of this. Or anyone for that matter. He had no intentions of ever saying the words out loud, letting them fester and swirl around in the back of his mind when he was left with his thoughts alone for too long.

And yet, he had just blurted them out to you.

Maybe he was more tired than he realised.

“Why did you keep playing hockey?”

Ethan frowned a little, his eyes blinking back open as he turned to look at you again. “What?”

“Why did you keep playing hockey?” You asked again, something swirling in your eyes but he couldn’t quite work out what. “It’s one thing to be a fan. You’re Canadian so I guess you kinda have to be. And I assume your parents put you into lessons. But why did you keep up with it? Why did you keep playing?”

“Because I love the sport,” he answered without any hesitation.

“Exactly, you love the sport,” you repeated with a soft smile on your lips. “It’s why you stayed. It’s why you play the next game even if you lost the last one. It’s why it’s your dream, why you kept working towards the NHL. And even after the shit show of the roadie, it’s why you will go out and play the next game.”

Ethan stayed silent but he didn’t move his eyes away from yours.

“It’s normal to have doubts. It’s normal to second guess yourself and assume the worst and let yourself spiral,” you continued. “It’s your rookie year. It isn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t easy for Luke, for Seamus, for any of the boys. But you love the sport and the sport loved you back. Even on the bad days.”

“That was poetic,” he murmured, his voice a little raspy and thick with emotion.

“I was great at English in school,” you retorted with a grin. “You’re allowed to feel scared. And you’re allowed to be upset after you lose. But you’re a part of the team, nobody is putting the loss on your shoulders and you shouldn’t either. It’s your weight to bear together.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Did Nico message you?”

You snorted, and something about the sound made his chest tighten. In a good way, though.

“No, but considering how fast you got here, I would be wary that he will probably show up tomorrow morning to take you for a coffee check up,” you murmured. “Or he will corner you in the locker room.”

Ethan nodded. “Thank you. For listening and stuff.”

You flashed him a smile as you nudged his shoulder with your own. “That’s what friends are for.”

It was almost ironic that Ethan had spent the last few months working towards the title of your friend, only to feel almost disappointed when you said it.

Nico had been the one to organise the New Years Party.

All the boys from the team were there. There were other Devils employees from the marketing, media and training teams. There were friends and friends-of-friends. There were people he had never met before.

But it was a party and the buzz of the new year was humming through them all, and somewhere amongst it all, someone had suggested a game of truth or dare.

Ethan thinks it was Curtis, who was just drunk and nosy and a bit bored.

“Right, Baby Hughes, you gotta pick!”

Luke let out a groan, slumping into the person next to him—a chuckling John Marino who seemed amused by the glint in Curtis’ eyes—before nodding. “I feel targeted.”

Curtis grinned. “Never.”

“You’ve asked me every single time,” Luke grumbled under his breath, cheeks tinted pink and warm. “Surely this is against the rules. Right, Cap?”

Nico raised his hands in surrender. “Do not drag me into this!”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So much for looking out for your boys.”

“Pick someone else before he starts getting whiny,” Jack called out, grinning widely as he dodged Luke’s elbow to his side. “I don’t wanna hear him bitching on the way back home.”

“Fine, fine,” Curtis snorted, eyes scanning over the busy room before his eyes paused on Ethan. “Alright, Edwards, rookie’s turn. Truth or dare.”

Ethan straightened a little, something determined in his eyes. “Truth,” he answered with a grin. “I’ve been warned of your dares.”

“Smart,” Jesper coughed under his breath.

“Truth, he says,” Curtis mused as he sat back in his seat, contemplative and cunning before he spoke again.

“Play nice,” Nico teased.

“Cap’s orders,” Curtis hummed before he spoke. “Alright then, rookie, fess up. Which teammate is your least favourite? Name and shame.”

Ethan blinked. “This feels like a trap.”

“Oh, it certainly is,” Ondrej snorted.

“Don’t take him seriously,” Luke spoke up, leaning his head back to catch Ethan’s gaze. “He did the same to me and Simon. And Seamus last year. It’s his thing.”

Ethan raised his brows. “Is there a right answer?”

“Hey, no cheating!” Curtis called out.

“Maybe my answer is you,” Ethan called back teasingly.

“Oh, pretty boy has some fire,” the older man laughed, happily and drunkenly but it seemed enough to satisfy him before Nico was rounding everyone around for the midnight countdown.

The funny thing was that Ethan always knew that hockey was a team sport and every team he had ever played on—from the peewee team he played on as a kid to the boys he played with in UMich—every single one of them felt like a family, a place where he belonged and a team he loved both on and off ice.

The Devils had been another one of those teams—his newest family. It had been terrifying, a lingering thought in the back of his head since he had been drafted. Every team he played for before were teams he would move on from, stepping stones in his dreams. But the NHL was at the top and he didn’t want to fuck that up. He didn’t want to feel left out from his new family.

The Devils family had welcomed him with open arms.

He truly couldn’t complain. He felt a connection with these boys on and off the ice, he felt like the newest member in this patchwork family that was really cared for. Even now, as the seconds ticked down to midnight, there was warmth and camaraderie in the air as they welcomed the new year.

And yet, it was the most devastating loneliness he had ever felt in his life.

Because the clock struck twelve and the cheers echoed through the house and yet, his eyes were searching in the crowd of people. Searching for the one person he wanted by his side. Searching for the first person he has ever had the urge to kiss into the new year.

Because Ethan Edwards spent breaking in the new year wishing he was beside you.

…

JANUARY

New Years opened his eyes in ways that he hadn’t really considered before.

Unfortunately, eye opening nights are a bit difficult to focus on when you’re a professional athlete in the NHL hitting January in your rookie year. Because they were only half way through the regular season in one of the most physically and mentally intense years of his life, and he was a bit too fucking tired to have emotional epiphanies.

Which was fine if it weren’t for the fact he was currently in the middle of drills and his brain was definitely not focused on hockey.

“Edwards!”

Ethan blinked, his body moving before his brain could properly catch up. He had never been more grateful for the military-routine of drills he had been doing for as long as he had been skating.

His muscles were screaming by the time the boys were starting to head back into the locker room, laughing and shoving each other and discussing strategies for the game against the Sabres the following day. But he lingered behind, stick twisting in his hand as he tapped a few pucks closer to the net.

He had tried not to stare at the person lingering on the ice behind him, watching him, observing him.

He managed five shots before the person spoke up.

“You should lower your right hand a little,” Jack called out, lingering at the blue line. “It will help with the shot.”

His next shot hit the back corner perfectly.

Ethan straightened his back, nodding a little before glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Jack responded, taking it as his cue to skate closer towards him. “You good? You should be getting some rest before the game tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just…wanted some extra practice on my shots,” Ethan said, shrugging his shoulders. “It needs some work.”

Jack nodded. “You’re having a good year.”

“Could be better,” Ethan retorted before he could stop himself. It was meant to be lighthearted, playful even. Instead, it came out a little self-deprecating and he winced at himself.

“It gets better,” Jack assured him, his expression a little softer. “The rookie year is always the worst, the media attention and expectations and everything. But it gets better when you find yourself, find your footing.”

“I know,” he murmured because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Nobody really talked about Jack’s rookie year. Not in much detail, not beyond a few comments here and there he had heard over the years in the lakehouse.

He was more than grateful that his own rookie year wasn’t anything like Jack’s.

“Enjoy it,” Jack continued, a kind expression on his face. It wasn’t hard to work out why Jack was given the ‘A’ on his jersey. “I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let the critics get to you too much. They just wanna put pressure on you, make you squirm.”

And oh.

Because now Ethan was standing there, staring back at Jack like a hopeless idiot, realising he and the rest of the boys probably assumed his mood had been related to hockey. To the articles written about him. To the most likely and very reasonable explanation.

Not the fact Ethan was pretty sure he liked his friends-with-benefits roommate in a not very friends-with-benefits way.

His cheeks burned at the realisation.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded helplessly, hoping his smile didn’t look as strained as it felt. “No, you’re right. I…I’ll try to really enjoy it. Not get in my own head too much.”

“Good,” Jack smiled back at him, all sweet and genuine and making him feel like a bit of a dick. “I’m here if you ever need a chat, you know? And I’m better at giving advice than Luke.”

Ethan snorted. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

The issue was that despite his eye-opening realisation, Ethan Edwards quickly realised he was a bit of a coward when it came to expressing his feelings.

Or, for that matter, confronting them.

It was odd for Ethan, if he was being completely honest with himself. Because he was usually good with these kinds of things. He knew when it was a ‘no strings attached’ situation, when to remove himself from any feelings that would compliment the matter. And he knew when it was serious, when the feelings were reciprocated, when there was something more than physical between him and the other person.

But that awareness was thrown out the window when it came to you.

It was like he had a little voice in his head, desperately trying to yell out how he felt about you until Ethan reached his breaking point and did something he couldn’t take back.

So, he did what any reasonable person did and locked that little voice away, pushed it to the back of his mind where it couldn’t bother him. And then he continued living his life like he couldn’t hear the rattling box in the background of every waking moment.

It was easy with hockey. Despite his little blip at the start of the month, he managed to prevent the annoying voice affecting his game on the ice. He stayed focused and concentrated and attentive. He managed to complete his drills and find the passes and shoot some goals so none of his teammates would catch on to his lacking grasp on his feelings.

But at home? With you? He clearly wasn’t coping as well as he thought he was.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan paused, body frozen as his brain wracked through a million different thoughts before he turned to look where you were sitting on the couch.

“Uh yeah,” he managed to blurt out, a slightly strained laugh following. “Why?”

“You’ve just seemed off the last few weeks,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. “Like, tense and stuff.”

“S’just hockey stuff,” Ethan murmured with a stiff smile, the lie tasting bitter and acidic on his tongue. “The boys have just been talking about how playoffs are sneaking up on us and I just…guess I’ve been a little in my own head about it.”

You nodded in understanding. “You need days to chill out, you know? Take your mind off hockey.”

Ethan raised his brows. “You got any suggestions, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you retorted with a knowing smile. “I do. I know exactly what you need to get out of your head.”

“You know, when you crawled onto my lap, I was expecting a very different outcome,” Ethan murmured, struggling not to move his lips too much as he focused on the concentrating expression on your face.

“Need to get your head out of the gutter, Edwards,” you teased, biting back your smile as you continued to sweep the brush across his face, careful to avoid his eyebrows while you were at it. “Facemasks are soothing and relaxing. Plus, your skin probably needs it after all the travelling you do.”

“Excuse you,” his nose scrunched. “I have a skincare routine.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, Luke told me that you ripped into Seamus after he used your fancy moisturiser.”

“It’s expensive,” he murmured in defence before the rest of your words caught up on him. “You talk about me to Luke?”

“Mostly to bitch,” you said with a lighthearted, teasing smile.

Yet, something in his chest tightened at the idea regardless.

“As long as you’re talking about me,” he shot back, something victorious washing over him at the way you laughed.

You leaned back a little, still sat on his lap with his hands on your waist to keep you balanced. You snorted at the mask covering his face before grinning. “Now, we have to keep these on for twenty minutes. And try not to move your face too much.”

Ethan ignored your words, pouting in response. “So if I asked you to make out—”

“I would tell you to fat chance,” you finished with a grin. “But I’ll admit the pink headband is really working for you.”

Ethan wiggled his eyebrows, once against ignoring the pointed look you shot him. “Enough for a kiss?”

“Enough for an episode of Pretty Little Liars,” you shot back at him, your smile widening at the sound of his groan but it still didn’t stop him from tugging you close before you could sit on the other side of the couch. “Or at least finish the one we started last night before—”

“I rocked your world?”

“Started drooling on my shoulder,” you corrected.

“That was after I made you come twice,” Ethan piped up, lightly pinching your side until you squirmed further onto his lap. “They cancel each other out.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” you snorted, eyes gleaming as you pressed play on the remote before he could come up with a witty comeback.

And, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a distant voice screaming at him to say something. Telling him this was the perfect opportunity to say something to you. To just admit how he was feeling and end the pathetic pining he had been experiencing for the last few weeks.

But the mere idea of losing this—losing you—kept his mouth shut as he finally turned his attention to the tv and pretended like his stomach didn’t twist at his own cowardice.

…

FEBRUARY

Before he knew it, they were hitting February and all the buzz in the hockey world was around All Stars.

Ethan hadn’t been too concerned about it or the discussions leading up to the reveal on which team members would be heading out for the event. His mind had been preoccupied on the season, on playoffs approaching, on you. In all honesty, All Stars hadn’t even crossed his mind until the team was being rounded up into the locker room for the announcement.

It was not too much of a surprise that Luke had been selected for the Devils (most people expected it to be one of the Hughes brothers).

However, it was a shock to hear his own name follow.

“Looks like the fans want to see more of the pretty boy,” Curtis called out, joking and teasing and, yet, it still made his cheeks burn as the boys all slapped him on the back.

“Baby’s first All Stars,” Timo cooed jokingly, reaching out to pinch his cheek but Ethan was quick to slap his hand away.

“It’s Luke’s first too,” he defended weakly, a smile on his lips as he spoke.

“At least he is losing one of his virginities,” Seamus coughed under his breath, letting out a high-pitched yelp when the younger Hughes reached to smack him across the back of his head.

“I hope you get a horrible sunburn in Mexico,” Luke retorted with a deadpan expression.

Seamus snorted. “Don’t get bitchy because your ticket is non-refundable.”

Luke reached out to slap him again but he had already run off towards the showers, laughing and shoving some of the other boys into Luke’s path to help with his escape.

Ethan shook his head in amusement.

“Enjoy it,” another voice spoke up and he turned to find Nico standing beside his stall, a kind and genuine smile on his face as he patted his shoulder. “It’s fun. Promise.”

“More fun than chilling on a beach somewhere?” Ethan retorted with a knowing smile.

“It’s up there,” Nico grinned.

“But if Michael Buble offers you anything, say no,” Jack spoke up from the other side of the locker room. “Trust me.”

“How does it feel to be with all the big boys?”

“You saying I’m not a big boy?”

“You know exactly what I meant, perv.”

It was true. Ethan knew exactly what you meant. But he could almost imagine the way you rolled your eyes when you spoke, your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows furrowed and it sent a pang of something aching through him.

It was almost too pathetic to comprehend.

All Stars was insane. Truly, absolutely, positively insane. It was one thing to watch it from the comfort of his own couch. It was a whole other thing to be a part of it. And he knew he shouldn’t be starstruck, not really. He had spent the better part of the last few months playing against some of these guys.

But being in a not-as-competitive setting with the likes of Sidney Crosby and Nathan MacKinnon was a surreal experience he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around since he arrived.

And yet, here he was, all smiley and giddy and excited over the fact you had called him. The fact that you missed him enough, that you were thinking about him enough to call him whilst he was away.

“I stand by my question,” Ethan replied, shuffling further back into the plush pillows of his hotel bed as he held his phone to his ear. “Do you not think I’m a big boy?”

“I’m not going to talk up your dick size for the sake of your ego, Edwards.”

Ethan snorted despite himself. “Worth a shot. Could have made it really hot.”

“I refuse to have phone sex with you when Luke is probably in the room.”

“He’s not here,” Ethan said quickly, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Well, he’s gone out to grab us some snacks from the store around the corner but—”

“Exactly.” His stomach dipped a little as your laugh echoed through the phone. “Now, tell me everything.”

For a moment he wondered if it would be worth trying to facetime you to see your face or if that was pushing it too far.

“What do you want to know?” He retorted, his eyes closing shut as he tried to imagine the expression on your face as you thought.

“I don’t know! The important stuff! Like if Sidney Crosby is as hot in real life?”

Ethan blinked. “That’s your big question? If he’s as hot as he is on screen?”

Your reply came with no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Wow, so we can’t talk about my dick, which has been inside of you by the way, but we can talk about whether or not Sidney Crosby is hot.” There was a pause before he sighed. “Yeah, he is. Maybe even hotter.”

“I fucking knew it.”

“So you don’t even miss me? Not even a little bit?” Ethan questioned, trying to sound playful and lighthearted, hoping the small slivers of insecurity weren’t being translated through the phone.

“Don’t start pouting on me, Edwards. Of course I miss you.” Your voice was softer, more sincere. Or at least he was deluding himself into thinking as much. “Found a show for us to watch when you’re back. It looked good but I didn’t want to start it alone.”

It was embarrassing how big his smile was. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed before gasping. “Oh god, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t believe what happened at work the other night.”

Ethan huffed. “Don’t tell me it was—”

“Yup! And you’ll never guess what she did—”

It hit Ethan in the chest when he was lying on the foreign bed in a non-descriptive hotel room, phone pressed against his ear as you rambled away. It hit him just how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed you. That it was beyond the physical attraction, that it was much deeper than a silly little crush.

It hit him how much he wanted this forever.

But he knew better to do it on the phone. He knew it had to be said face-to-face. He knew he needed you in front of him when he uttered the words. He knew he needed to be looking in your eyes when he blurted his feelings out.

So, he promised himself.

He promised himself he would do it when he headed back to New Jersey. He promised himself he would do it when he saw you. He promised himself he was just going to deal with it head on and not run away like he had been doing for the last month or two.

He promised he was not going to be a coward anymore.

It was embarrassing how quickly he threw his own promise out of the window.

Ethan was fucking exhausted by the time their plane laned back in New Jersey. It was barely even eight in the evening and he was ready to slump face first onto his bed and not get up for a few days—even if he knew they had practice the following afternoon.

But it was the principle of it all.

It was the mere exhaustion of it all.

And you took one look at him before you opened your arms, inviting him to join you on the couch. Ethan couldn’t even bring himself to feel too bad about the groan you let out as he slumped himself on top of you.

“Make sure they had good music at my funeral,” he grumbled, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.

You hummed, your hands moving on instinct to run your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel about Barbie Girl?”

“Love it,” he murmured, a soft groan leaving his lips as your nails scratched along his scalp. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, Edwards,” you whispered, soft and almost breathless. He wondered for a moment if he was leaning too heavily on your chest and winding you. “I never knew you talked in your sleep.”

Ethan froze.

“Luke sent me some interesting videos,” you continued and he could almost hear the smile in your voice. “You should really watch who you have sleepovers with.”

Ethan clenched his eyes shut, trying to nuzzle himself further into your neck. “M’gonna kill him.”

“It was just one video,” you assured him, lightly tugging his hair until he lifted his head to look at you. “Cute that you were so jealous over me liking Sidney that you started to sleep talking about it.”

His cheeks heated up. “I wasn’t jealous.”

You beamed back at him. “Uh huh, sure.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at you. “This is emotional blackmail.”

“Aw, don’t let me stop you from doing it again,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement as his cheeks burned redder. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was jealous you got to hang around him all week?”

Ethan paused before he spoke. “Yes.”

You nodded. “Then, I was deeply jealous and envious that you got to hang around Sidney Crosby, the hottest guy in the league—”

“Oh my god,” Ethan groaned as he braced his hands on either side of you, prepared to push himself off you and the couch and sulk in his room. But before he could get far, you were winding your arms and legs around him and pulling him back down. “Nuh uh, let me go. You can go cuddle with Sidney since you think he’s so hot.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you mused, choosing to be nice and not comment on the way he completely nuzzled himself back into your arms, eyes falling shut and relaxation taking over his body for the first time in a week.

“You’re a bully,” he retorted, words muffled from the way his cheek was pressed against your shoulder.

“You like it,” you retorted, keeping the banter going but it made Ethan’s head spin.

Because he did. He did like it. He liked you. He liked coming back home to you and he liked lying on the couch with you. He liked kissing you and he liked the noises you made for him when he touched you.

He liked you more than he cared to admit.

He liked you too much to lose you.

He liked what the two of you had. He liked it too much to risk losing it all over unreciprocated feelings. Feelings could change—his feelings could change. There was no need to ruin a good thing.

He had hockey to focus on. He had the team to focus on. He had playoffs to focus on.

Now was not the time to change everything, superstitions or not.

…

MARCH

March Madness was no joke.

It was pure fucking chaos and no previous league or championship he had ever played for could rival just how hectic the whole thing was. The Devils were having a good season. A great fucking season if they were being honest. And they were so, so, so fucking close to clinching that playoff spot.

But fuck if the other teams weren’t making it real fucking difficult for them.

Ethan knew that things were going to get rougher, tougher, harder when the playoff desperation started to settle in, when the end of the regular season was on the horizon and teams were starting to get dirty to extend their season.

He just underestimated how desperate they were willing to get.

It was easy to see why Nico Hishcier was so beloved by the team, by the fans, by the boys. To see why he was chosen as captain because he was nothing but supportive and determined and encouraging. He wasn’t letting them get too comfortable, he was keeping the boys working towards playing their best.

But he was also the damn proudest of them all.

It almost made the hits against the boards worth it.

Almost being the operative word seeing as he felt like his whole body was bruised as they came off a game against the Rangers.

“Fuck,” Ethan hissed as he all but waddled into the locker room, helmet in hand and skateguards on. “I think I’m bruised in places I didn’t know you could be bruised.”

Seamus snorted. “Fucking tell me about it.”

“The hit during the second period looked rough,” Luke spoke up from the stall beside him. “You sure you’re good?”

“Medical checked me over during the intermission,” Ethan assured him with a faint smile. “Just gonna be sore for the next few days.”

Luke’s eyes gleamed. “No strenuous activities then?”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Oh please,” Seamus mused, giving Luke a nudge with his elbow. “He’s a pillow princess.”

“Fuck off both of you,” Ethan snorted, already starting to peel his jersey off.

It wasn’t until he was almost dressed where he finally grabbed his phone out of his bag, turning it back on to see a flurry of notifications to take over his screen. His brows furrowed together in surprise as he skimmed over them.

“Is that a certain roommate?” Luke asked, peeking over his shoulder like the nosy shit he was but Ethan had already chucked his phone back in his bag.

“Nah, it’s just Patricia,” Ethan shrugged.

Luke blinked. “Who the fuck is Patricia?”

Ethan shot him an odd look. “Patricia, the woman from the estate agency you recommended to me.”

Luke gave him a pensive look. “Why is she blowing up your phone?”

Ethan shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

As it would turn out, Patricia was contacting him because the apartment he originally signed on for at the start of the year seemed to have sorted the rat infestation problem.

She was cheery in her voicemail she left for him, like it was the best possible news Ethan could have ever received. And maybe it would have been a few months ago, back in September. Even a good few weeks into October, Ethan would have been over the fucking moon to hear his old apartment was available again.

Yet, as he listened to the voicemail now, he couldn’t help but let a sense of dread wash over him.

It was stupid in a way because he knew from the start his situation wasn’t permanent. He knew it was always a short-term solution to a short-term problem. He knew the arrangement between you both wouldn’t last forever—both as roommates and friends with benefits.

There was always a timer on it, but Ethan let himself get lost in the familiarity of it all that the upcoming ending hit him like an unexpected slap in the face.

If he was a sensible and good guy, he would have called Patricia back. He would have told her he was just as happy to hear the update on the previously rat infested apartment. He would have told her he was happy to move in as soon as he can, to have his own place in New Jersey to call his home and his home alone. He would have told her to send over all the paperwork as soon as she can.

But Ethan wasn’t sensible nor was he all that good because he never called her back.

Instead, he chose to pretend as though he hadn’t seen the calls or the voicemails or the messages. He told himself he was focusing on clinching a playoff spot. He told himself he was just prioritising the important stuff and, for as long as he had a roof over his head, the other apartment wasn’t a priority.

Ethan chose not to acknowledge the fact that ignoring and running away from any possible problem was becoming a bit of an odd habit for him over the last few months.

As it would turn out, people failed to warn Ethan that March Madness seemed to extend into a player’s personal life.

He couldn’t quite work out the exact moment everything changed but he noticed the switch two weeks into March. And he was fucking baffled. And almost embarrassed that it took him so long to catch on to your sudden cold behaviour.

If you were giving him the cold shoulder, Ethan would have assumed he had done something to piss you off. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, the two of you had your fair share of petty roommate disagreements over the months where one of you would give the other silent treatment. But it never lasted more than an hour or so before you sat down and talked it out.

Ethan would have preferred if he was just given the silent treatment from you.

Instead, he got…whatever the hell you were doing now.

For a few days, Ethan considered that he was just being dramatic. That maybe it was something at work or in one of your classes. That eventually you’d come to him with whatever was bothering you and he would listen and this weird tension between the two of you would disappear.

He lost hope in that theory after a week.

You were talking to him, almost as normal, but there was a tinge to it. A shift. Almost like a step back. It felt like the early months as roommates, when your answers were shorter more often than not, when you treated each other as acquaintances with a mutual friend.

It felt fucking wrong.

And then there was the physical aspect.

It wasn’t like the two of you were on each other at every possible moment together. It wasn’t even about the sex. It was the way you pulled away from him like his touch burned you, like it was odd for him to casually nudge your hip with his own as he walked past you in the kitchen. It was the way you seemed to avoid sitting too close to him on the couch.

It was the way it felt like the two of you were reverting back to the awkward, polite strangers you were back in September.

He hated it but he didn’t know how to get it back when you seemed so adamant to keep him at arm’s length.

It was disorienting as fuck.

It was wrong.

It was everything he feared for.

It was almost-definitely-possibly worse than you rejecting him.

And Ethan felt like he was fucking spiralling with the realisation that he may have lost you and he wasn’t exactly sure how.

And just when Ethan craved normalcy in his life, Luke started acting weird too.

The youngest Hughes brother shut down any attempts to hang out outside of practice or training. He didn’t seem as talkative or chatty with Ethan the way he usually was, leaving most of their conversations to surround hockey or strategies or upcoming games.

Fuck, even Seamus was weirded out by Luke’s sudden change in behaviour.

It didn’t take long for the other boys in the team to notice the growing tension between the two boys. Jack kept shooting his brother weird looks. Nico seemed concerned. Even Curtis looked a bit awkward and unsure at what to say. Him, Luke and Seamus had been such a trio since Ethan joined the Devils at the start of the season.

Now it seemed like Luke tolerated him at best.

But Ethan knew Luke. He knew the way the boy would get when he was upset. He knew the way the boy tended to shut down a bit, knew that he needed the space to be moody and brood a little (the outcome of being the youngest child) before he was ready to forgive and forget and move on.

However, Luke Hughes seemed more than happy to carry out whatever grudge he was holding—even if it was affecting their game on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?”

Luke didn’t even bother turning to look at him, reaching to pull his practice jersey over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Luke,” Ethan growled, angry and frustrated and done with whatever bitchy mood he was still in. “I was open. You saw that I was open and you fucking ignored me. What if we were in a game? What if that cost us a goal?”

“It’s just a practice,” Luke shot back, deadpan and unamused. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Ethan laughed, bitter and irritated. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Luke. I don’t know what your problem with me is but it’s fucking ridiculous if you’re willing to sacrifice the team for it.”

Seamus took a step towards them. “Okay, maybe we just need—”

“No,” Ethan snapped, a buzz of adrenaline rushing through him. “No, if he has a problem with me then I want him to fucking say it instead of keeping it some secret like—some coward!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Luke snapped back at him. “You know all about secrets, Edwards.”

His brows furrowed together. “Stop fucking talking in riddles, Hughes.”

“Oh Jesus,” Seamus grumbled under his breath.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Luke hissed.

“No, I don’t!” Ethan gritted out. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about!”

“And I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore!” Luke bit back, enough hurt and anger in his voice that it left Ethan—and the rest of the locker room—silent. “I thought you were one of my closest friends. I thought you were a good guy. Clearly you’ve changed.”

Ethan frowned. “What?”

“Okay, everyone out!” Nico clapped his hands together, snapping Luke and Ethan out of their little moment as the captain began shepherding the rest of the team out.

“Aw, come on, it was just getting good!” Curtis whined but sighed as he followed the rest of the boys out of the locker room, all in various degrees of undress as they left Ethan and Luke alone.

Ethan watched them all go before he turned back to Luke, a look of hurt and pure confusion on his face.

“I helped you out,” Luke rasped, swallowing harshly. His voice was softer, a little raw too. Like the fight had left him and all that was left was disappointment. “You needed a place to stay and I convinced her to let you stay, vouched that you were a good guy, that you weren’t a fucking douche, and you had to go and fucking play her like that.”

Ethan blinked. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Ethan,” Luke muttered, his name full of frustration. “I know about the two of you. I’ve known for a while, I’m not fucking stupid.”

His heart sped up a little, despite himself. “What does our…agreement have to do with you?”

Luke shot him a look of disbelief. “Because she’s my friend! Because you’ve strung her along for months and now you don’t even have the decency to tell her you’re leaving!”

Ethan blinked again. “I—what?”

“You’re moving back to your own place and you—why do you look so confused?”

“Because I am confused!” Ethan squeaked out.

Luke slowly blinked. “So…you’re not taking Patricia up on her offer and moving out?”

“No!” Ethan replied, still looking confused. “Why would you think I am?”

“Because she keeps calling and emailing you!” Luke shot back.

“And I haven’t answered a single one!” Ethan retorted.

“Huh,” Luke murmured, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts. “Well, her emails suggest otherwise.”

Ethan tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Luke sighed, looking serious once again. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Ethan shifted in his spot. “What?”

“Are you serious about her?” Luke questioned.

Ethan frowned. “Who? Patricia?”

“I—no,” Luke sighed deeply. “Unless you’ve been sleeping with Patricia this whole time—”

“What? No, no!” Ethan spluttered out. “I have—wait, does she think I’m moving out?”

Luke looked a bit sheepish. “I think you need to go have that conversation with her.”

“Fuck,” Ethan breathed out, something quite like nausea twisting in his stomach. “And she….I’m not….I would never play her like that. It’s literally the opposite!”

Luke raised his brow. “The opposite?”

“I—fuck, I need to go,” Ethan muttered to himself under his breath, not even acknowledging the other boy as he began to yank his gear off.

“Woah, Ethan, you need to—”

“I need to fix this,” Ethan interrupted. “She can’t—I need to tell her.”

The last thing Luke—or any of the boys—saw was Ethan rushing out of the locker room, looking frazzled and flustered and panicked.

Ethan wished he could say he was calm and collected when he finally made it to your shared apartment but that would be a fucking lie.

He was a mess when he arrived. Despite driving back, he was still breathless and panting as he forgoed the elevator, choosing to take the stairs two-at-a-time until he reached your floor. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed, his keys were the only thing in his possession as he raced towards the door. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Nor did he care.

His only goal was to get to you.

It was embarrassing how badly his hands were shaking as he tried to shove the key into the lock, taking more attempts than he cared to admit before he managed to open the door. He didn’t even care about your neighbours as he began calling out your name, praying to every god he could think of that you were home.

He could have collapsed from relief when you wandered out of your room, a mixed look of concern and confusion on your face when you spotted him standing in the living room.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan tried to find the words to answer you. He tried to wrack his brain for a response to your question, a coherent sentence to calm the clear uneasiness in your voice. And yet, all he could do was stare at you and think one single thought that was leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.

“I’m in love with you!”

You blinked in response.

“Like, so painfully in love with you that I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone. But it is. And I do. And I can’t keep it to myself anymore because I think I am genuinely going insane,” Ethan continued.

Your lips parted a little in surprise, but still no words left your mouth.

“And I should probably stop talking and embarrassing myself further because you’re not saying anything and I’m usually a lot better at these kinds of things,” Ethan blurted out. “But you’ve been pulling away the last few weeks and I can’t take it anymore because it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I have to keep pretending I’m fine with everything when I’m not.”

His body was moving before he could stop himself. He was taking steps forward, closing the small distance between you two because Ethan couldn’t stop the pull you had on him—on his body, his mind, his whole fucking world.

“I’m in love with you. Like in a ‘I wanna come home to you every night and kiss you because we are dating’ kind of way, not a ‘we are roommates who made up this weird agreement’ way.” Ethan breathed out, his voice just above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. “And I don’t expect you to say you feel the same way but I can’t keep it anymore and—”

He was cut off by you throwing yourself at him, arms winding around his neck and lips on his. He didn’t even care about the rest of his sentence, sinking into the kiss like a starved man eating for the first time. The relief of feeling your body pressed against his was almost as addicting as the adrenaline pumping through his veins when you let out a blissful sigh.

“M’not moving out,” he managed to mutter out between kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you tight against him. “Whatever you think—”

You pulled away a few inches, just enough to see his face. “Your laptop was open,” you murmured, something sheepish and guilty written across your face. “And the email came through from your estate agent about signing a new lease and I got in my own head about it. I thought you were going to leave and I wanted to protect myself from falling further and—”

“Falling further?” He repeated, a hopeful smile beginning to take over his face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your smile mirroring his. “Turns out sleeping with your roommate is a real catalyst for falling in love with him.”

“Lucky me,” Ethan murmured before leaning back in to kiss you. “And I’m not leaving until you want me to leave.”

“We’ve really gone through this relationship thing in a weird order, huh?” You mused, laughing a little when Ethan kept leaning in to kiss you.

“Yeah but I think it’s worked out pretty well for us,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours.

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Nobody ever was, not really. He wasn’t fully prepared to fall in love either.

But with you in his arms and the Devils only points away from clinching a playoff spot, he thought his rookie year was going far better than anything he could have prepared for.

#ethan edwards #nhl #umich hockey #new jersey devils #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x you #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #umich hockey x reader

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sweetbans29 · 21 days

Text

Stress Ball - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: The little things you do for Caitlin when she is stressed during a game (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Stressed CC

Word Count: 1.6k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: What I would give to be able to do this for her.

The expectations that the world has on Caitlin are unrealistic. Still in her rookie year, people have higher expectations on her than they do veterans who have been playing 5+ years in the league. Now that is not to say Caitlin is not capable because she very much is but the last thing she needs is someone else adding on to the expectations she has on herself.

When you first met Caitlin it was always in passing, playing against each other in tournaments and things like that. It wasn't until you both got drafted to Indiana that you really started to get to know each other. The two of you immediately hit it off in training camp and it was right before the first preseason game when you asked her out. To say things moved fast was an understatement.

It's now 4 months into the season and it has felt like you have been together for years. Being with Caitlin came so easy it was almost scary. Yet every time it felt like it should have gone up in flames, it didn't. The two of you would figure it out together and grow. You complemented each other well.

That leads you to right now. The Fever are playing the Lynx for the last time this season and everything is going wrong for the rookie star. At the end of the first quarter she has no points, 1 rebound and 1 assist. That is including the 2 personal fouls and 2 turnovers.

Everyone breaks from the first quarter huddle and Caitlin doesn't stand up. She just sits there her Gatorade towel bitten between her teeth. She loves those things more than she loves you (not actually but you tease her about it all the time). You can tell she is stuck in her mind which is exactly where she shouldn't be in a time like this. Down 10 after the first, the team needs her to not be stressed but locked in.

You grab your towel and place it around her shoulder. Usually you would pull at her towel and annoy her but seeing her state you decide against it.

Caitlin doesn't look up at you and continues to chew on her towel. You place your hand on her head, moving it to the side of it to sooth other her hair when she leans her head into your hand.

Nothing is said, nothing needs to be said. You know where she is at and she knows you know what she is at.

The buzzard rings and Caitlin finally stands. You remove the towel you put around her shoulders and she puts down her towel as the two of you walk back out to the floor.

The second quarter goes a little better. Caitlin gets on the board with a quick 4 points and it seems like there is momentum building. That is until things get heated between Temi and Alana.

You know Caitlin hates when she is starting to build momentum and something stops it. With a little confrontation on the floor, Caitlin becomes visibly frustrated and she throws her hands up in the air. walking in the other direction. You first help Aliyah grab Temi as the teams are told to go to their respective benches while the refs watch the replay.

Cait is standing on the floor with her hands on her hips, completely unamused. You walk over to her and push her to the bench. While walking behind her, your hands massage her shoulders before coming down to pinch her waist.

"Don't worry, your rhythm will be there when we get back on," you say softly to her. She nods once.

You never want to overstep when it comes to comforting Caitlin on the court. And you would say you do a pretty good job of making sure that you don't but today seems like one of those days where you just can't do enough.

At the half, Caitlin has been doing better but you can tell by her mannerisms that she is not playing near to the standard she is holding herself to.

As everyone is walking back out to the court to stay warm, you grab Caitlin's arm before heading out of the tunnel.

"Hey," you say but she won't make eye contact with you. "Look at me."

When she doesn't, you know she is internally fighting with you and she doesn't want to give in.

You grab her face and force her to look at you. You want to say something, give her encouraging words but know that would only piss her off so you settle with kissing her on the nose.

The action earns you a little smile from her and you let go of her. She begins walking back out and you give her a little slap on the butt.

"Hey!" She squeals causing you to laugh and run out in front of her onto the court.

The third quarter is better. You can see she is playing more like herself. She has made the decision to out the team on her back and carry everyone to the finish line. Everything was going much better until she is fouled and the refs don't make the call.

Her arms come up in a 'how did you not see that' motion and you are quick to grab her arm. The ball goes back the opposing way and Phee draws the foul on Lyss. Everyone is just standing around while the refs discuss something and you notice Caitlin getting frustrated with her hair. You look over at her redoing it for the second time in a row as she lets out a annoyed puff.

You walk over to your girl and pull her hair out of her last attempt. She is about to protest but you are forcing her to bend over so you can collect all of her hair. She giggles, surprising you as you allow her to flip back up.

Now standing begin her as you sooth out the bumps and tie the hair tie around it.

"What is so funny?" You ask as you finish and she turns around smiling. The refs finally walk back over and give Phee her first free throw shot.

"I drooled," Caitlin says as you both look down at the court where sure enough, there was a little pile of Caitlin's spit.

"Ewww gross," you say teasing her and she pushes you playfully. She uses her shoes to clear out it out and you help her. When one of the court-side workers see the two of you trying to clear something up, they run over and wipe it with a towel.

"Careful there, she might be contagious," you tease as the guy looks at you confused. Caitlin just rolls her eyes and pushes you again.

You finish helping her with her hair but bringing her little headband back up to keep the little fly-aways out of her face.

"All better," you say and she looks at you with a little smile.

"Thank you," she says.

"Now let's win this game," you say and push her back to the back court to get the inbound pass.

The game comes down to the wire as the Fever somehow manage to pull out the win. Caitlin and Aliyah head to the pressor after while you and the rest of the team get to head back to the locker.

They are almost through the pressor when someone asks about the interactions between you and Caitlin.

"Caitlin, how do you manage stress when you are on the floor? It seems like you weren't playing like your usual self starting the game off but then came back and dominated the second half." The reported says.

Aliyah looks over at Caitlin with a knowing look.

"Ya, how do you manage your stress on the floor?" Aliyah says egging Caitlin on.

"Well, I have great teammates that know how to lift me up. The success of the team doesn't rely on one person. The win didn't come with me in the second half - ya sure, I helped and contributed but it first started off with Aliyah in the first half. She kept us in the game until I was able to heat up a little." Caitlin says, not specifically mentioning you. Regardless of if she mentions you or not, she knows there are going to be a disgusting amount of edits by tomorrow morning of the two of you, not that she ever minds.

As Aliyah and Caitlin are walking back, Aliyah bumps Caitlin.

"I am so telling your girl you just called her your teammate," Aliyah says.

"She is, she is our teammate," Caitlin says.

"Ya but you and the whole world knows she is is the sole reason you were able to get out of your head and back in this game and you just called her a teammate," Aliyah says.

"It isn't a big deal," Caitlin says.

"Fine, then I am going to go and tell her exactly what you said," Aliyah say as she picks up her pace to run and tell you that Caitlin only called you her teammate and not her girlfriend.

"No, wait!" Caitlin calls after Aliyah as she picks up her pace to stop her from tattling.

AN: Short and sweet! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark concepts #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark masterlist

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angelwhisp3rs · 9 months

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pretty girl

Pairing: DI!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon met his new obsession in the college girl that is his friends daughter.

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (f/m); loss of virginity; there's an age gap (i imagined reader being 23-25 and leon 37; he only met her as an adult, so no icky age stuff); breeding kink; a slight daddy kink; innocence kink (both are consenting adults! reader is not dumb and knows about it, and she teases leon with it, like a little minx!)

Notes: this fic has a slight darker theme (VERY LITTLE because a lot would go against my values), so if you feel uncomfortable with that, please don't read it! i have other fics that might be better suited for you! stay safe!

Also, this was one of my old fics!

The city always felt empty to her. Sure, she had her dad with her, but it was always missing something. Her dad is always off to god knows where, probably on his so called “missions”, while she had her studies and college classes.

After that fateful day, Wednesdays became her favorite day of the week, as it was the day where Leon came to a cookout to celebrate one of their missions. With only one look, everything changed - as their eyes met each other, she knew she was his. His gaze gave her chills, the blue of his eyes showed a sea of emotions that she couldn’t pinpoint. He gave her a passing smile, and after that, hurricane Leon was a part of her day-to-day life.

At first, Leon wasn't really present at the usual football dinners or barbecues her father was used to having after every successful mission.

After some weeks, the man and her dad became close friends, since they fought together, saving lives. Her dad, however, had no idea that Leon wanted to fuck the brains out of his “treasure”. Whenever he had his famous barbecues on Sundays, he missed how hungry Leon looked at the girl, how her pretty dresses flowed, and always teased him of seeing the parts that he really wanted.

As their friendship grew, so did Leon's feelings. He felt like a pervert because of their age gap, but it was impossible to resist her smile, her laughs, her curves and her personality. He saw how the perverted fucks of the agency looked at her, and it always made him want to shoot every single one of them. He craved to claim her, showing her around as his, showing that these poor idiots would never have a chance with her. He knew that was impossible, until her dad died, so he did the best thing he could think of: he gave her gifts.

Whenever they went on long missions, Leon bought dresses, creams, perfumes and lingeries to give to her. Of course that the last items were a secret between him and her. It was really tough, but whenever he saw her wearing the special gifts, his heart and cock were pumped full of blood.

So, he asked her, as a courtesy, to always model to him in private her gifts. She loved it. Leon looked at her with adoration, and such a penetrating look, that she couldn’t quite figure out the emotions behind them. But god, if she didn’t lose herself in his arms whenever he hugged her, and he touched her body as if he was inspecting his gift: her. Those were her favorite times, because she always came home with wet panties and hard nipples, so desperate for his touch.

Because of her father's protectiveness, and her hectic life, she had no experience, whatsoever, but she wasn’t dumb. She knew of the game of attraction they played, and knew how her so-called “innocence” turned Leon on to the point where his cock got too hard to touch. She wanted him to go crazy on her.

Leon was also aware that she wasn’t a hopeless innocent woman, it was all a fantasy that she happily indulged him every time.

After some time, some rookies got admitted to the D.S.O, and they casually made their way to the usual hangouts. She felt excited to have new faces in the usual events that her dad holds, but consistent socializing always tired her out. Because of it, she usually secluded herself in her room for some time - and her dad knew all about it, so it wasn’t news to him.

In one of the events held at her place, Leon returned from the bathroom and she was nowhere to be seen. The man grew worried, and went in looking for her. As he opened her bedroom door, he saw his pretty baby laying down tired on her bed. He approached her, caressing her head “Are you okay, baby girl?”

She nodded, smiling softly at him “Just overwhelmed, don’t worry about it”

His heart softened, and went to sit on her bed, pulling her sideways on his lap. The older man's arms wrapped her in a tight hug, and shushed her.

He pressed gentle kisses at her forehead, trying to make her feel better.

“You always know how to make it better, don't you?” She giggles, then nuzzles her nose in his neck. Fuck, she could feel herself getting wetter from his scent.

The man laughs at that, and he could also feel his cock hardening. He realized he had the perfect moment to have her to himself, and he wasn’t crazy to waste the opportunity. “You didn’t model to me the clothes you are wearing, darling” His hands move up her legs, massaging them slowly.

She looks at him with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, I had to help my daddy organize the barbecue today as he was running behind”.

Leon chose to ignore the tingling feeling he had whenever the word “daddy” came out of her pretty lips. “It’s okay, sweet thing” He pressed a kiss to her forehead “you can show me now, can’t you?”

She nods at him, then she starts talking sweetly, almost if the previous moment didn’t happen with that disgusting man. “Well, my dress you gave me last summer”.

He hums, passing his hands all over her body, feeling how the fabric behaves against her soft skin. “I remember it, pretty girl. Love seeing you wear it” His nose glides against her throat, creating goosebumps on her sensitive skin.

She giggles at his comments “that’s why I always wear it.” She feels him smiling at her neck, then keeps going to the most interesting part to both “and i’m wearing the pretty panties with the pink bow, the ones you gave me recently”.

He smirks, his voice getting huskier. “They are your favorite, isn’t it? Show me, sweet baby.” His hands move up her thighs, raising the hem of her dress to her waist.

She opens her legs slightly, so he has a better view. She prays he can’t see her arousal, she doesn't want to come off as easy, but it’s just too damn hard to resist him. The panties were her favorite for one thing only: how soft they feel. The white fabric was satin-like, and the bow on top made her pussy look like a gift wrapped for Leon's delight.

His hands start massaging her hips, fingers passing through the fabric, not low enough to touch her clothed pulsing clit. His fingers trace the bow, and the hem of the garment, feeling how temping such little fabric can be. He couldn’t help but snicker as whenever his hands moved a little bit lower, her legs seemed to open a little bit more.

He pressed kisses on her throat now, rewarding how much of a good girl she is, showing herself to him, becoming a needy slut in his lap as soon as he touched her. “Good job, sweet girl. I’m so happy that you like my gifts.”

One of his hands moved to the top of the dress, tracing the pearl button in it. After some moments and soft whines from her, he moved a little bit to the side, tracing delicate circles where her nipples are. “Where is your bra, baby?”

Her pretty face hides in his neck, and she quietly murmurs “Didn’t want to wear it with this dress”.

With that, like a hunter preparing to feast on its prey, he smirks, and tells her with a condescending tone: “Oh, my pretty girl is not wearing one now? Is it too much with your pretty dress, baby girl?”

She nods and gives him a pout, knowingly starting that seduction game they played. Her cunt was wet and needy, pulsing for him. She was sure that it was red and puffy, and Leon was all aware of it.

He tuts, one finger circling her nipple, other two lowering dangerously to unexplored places. “It’s okay, darling, you are always so good, let me think for you, okay? I’ll treat you well, not like any other man out there, angel”. He proceeds to lightly trace his fingers to her lower lips, going up and down, not pressing any force, just traveling his fingers to her precious pussy.

Her slick starts to wet his fingers further, she now fully lays on Leon’s chest, legs wider than ever. The soft moans and whimpers leaving her mouth were music to him, his cock pulsing to fuck her and stretch that delicious hole open. Maybe she would even let her fuck her other puckered hole. Even imagining his seed seeping out of her holes made him go insane, but he had to be patient, give to her slowly, get her addicted so she comes back for more.

He whispers sensually to her ear, voice dripping with lust “Feeling better, sunshine? Or my needy, spoiled baby needs more?” his fingers don’t stop tracing her pussy over her ruined panties, sure that her slick was drenching his pants too.

“C-can I have more, Leon? Please?” She begs him perfectly, his eyes roll back in his head, finally hearing her say his name in that desperate tone.

“Let’s take off these panties, baby. We don’t wanna ruin them, do we?” He helps her remove the fabric, and his mouth watered at the sight. He had never seen a woman, in his entire life, be so wet and puffy for him like she was. He knew that after today, he would spend his entire life buried deep in her womb. His fingers traced lightly her naked pussy, admiring, collecting her slick, completely hypnotized.

His fingers gently touch her entrance, gathering her juices and spreading all over her sensitive place. After getting it lubricated enough, he traced slow circles in her clit, and her body seems like it went through a shock, back arching and hands going to his hair. She moaned his name softly, making groans leave Leon's mouth in satisfaction.

“Open your dress a little bit, princess, let me make you feel even better. My baby deserves it” She proceeds to open the top of her dress, her boobs spilling out. His free hand moves two of his fingers to her mouth, muffling her moans, to not attract attention, and wet them so he can pleasure her beautiful tits. She sucks his fingers wantonly, as his fingers circle her bud faster.

After some time, his fingers leave her mouth so he can finally abuse her neglected nipples, the slick from her saliva still present on his fingers. She had to bite her lip hard, eyes tearing up from pleasure. The man is in cloud 9, seeing her succumb to him so easily.

“Is my princess feeling good, huh? Love seeing you like that, baby, you’ll come for me every day from now on, okay? I’ll give everything to you, make you only mine. Do you want that, angel?” His fingers start moving just right, and she is stepping each second closer to the edge.

She can only give him desperate nods, the knowledge he wants to do it everyday fuels her further with desire - she was already obsessed with him. It takes Leon to start pressing kisses to her throat, and she unravels on his fingers, coming with his name on her mouth. “Leon, I’m coming, o-oh god… f-fuck…”

“That’s it my angel, fuck, how delicious you look. Come for me, and I’ll give this to you forever, okay, sweetheart? My fucking baby, from now on” his fingers move slower, letting her ride the waves.

She sits on his lap panting, heart beating fast, rosy cheeks showing the great work out she’s been through. The man kisses every inch of skin he can reach, completely satiated from seeing her spent body because of him.

He lays her down on her bed, then grabs one of her pink towels to softly clean her wet delicious cunt, pressing a kiss on the skin at the top. He grabs one of the babydolls he gave to her and dresses her up, kissing her arms, legs and neck again, making the girl give him soft giggles.

Lastly, he presses kisses to her forehead, and whispers to her ear “go to sleep baby, have sweet dreams, my love”. And she obeys him, letting soft beard patches and calloused fingers guide her to her dreams.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One month after the barbecue, Leon didn’t make any advances on the girl again, letting her reach the peak of her desperation. He had seen the looks she gave her, and even if it was hard to ignore sometimes, he had to lay low to not raise suspicions, and maybe tease her some more.

He entered the kitchen and saw her cooking the sides to help her dad with feeding the guests. As she stood cooking on the stove, he watched her silently, every inch of him burning with lust. He comes behind her, placing his hands gently on her hips, his lips moving against her skin. “I really missed you, pretty baby.”

She gasps, momentarily forgetting about the food, but not turning to him “Hm, not enough as you ignored me”

His hands start massaging her hips, giving her a reassuring smile. “Sorry, baby, but we have to lay low, you know that” His hands now caressing her cheeks “After you help your dad, we can slip away from the guests and I'll reward you for being my special girl, how does that feel?”.

Her eyes light up, and she nods excitedly. He chuckles at her eagerness, and presses a loving his to her forehead, letting her be.

Oh, how fun this night is about to be.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

They mingle with everyone at the barbecue, having some D.S.O agents and some of the neighbors from around.

As she was washing the dishes, Leon was behind her every second of it, taking advantage that the kitchen was secluded from the hangout spot and pressing kisses to her neck and praises to her skin: “such a good girl”, “so obedient”, “so perfect”. She couldn’t help but feel her hands trembling a little bit as she did the dishes, she was hoping he forgot about his little “show”, otherwise she would have to show him her ruined panties pressed on her cunt. God, she was blushing from shame.

As she finished washing, before she could say anything, his raspy voice whispered to her ear, hands now touching her hips again. “Gonna model f’me today, sweet baby?”

She gulps, nervous and excited: she couldn’t say no to him when his voice got like this. Ever since he touched her a month ago, she tried to chase that feeling again, every day having to hump her poor little pillow, to try to reach bliss again. Sadly, only he seemed to have the knowledge for that, causing her to go to bed with a wet needy pussy. “Okay…” her pretty voice was meek, playing coy with him.

The man smirked, as he had of an idea why she was shy. He gently grabbed her hands, giving her a reassuring smile, guiding her to his bedroom. As they got there, he sat on the edge of bed, legs spreading to accommodate her body between them. He starts passing his hands on her body, sighting heavily in pleasure, after denying himself of her body for days. “This dress is new baby, where did you get it, hm?”

She smiles at him, her redness still on her cheeks “I bought it when I went to the mall with my friends.” She twirls for him, the wind showing her pink panties hugging her bottom. He bites his lip, and gives her a smile “I like it, sweet thing. Looking like a princess, aren’t you?”

She giggles, and wraps her arms around him, her pretty face hiding in his neck again. She shines beneath his praises. “Thank you, Leon.”

He presses a chaste kiss on her cheek, his rough hands passing in her hair. She is his sweet little baby, he would take his sweet time with her sweet young body. “Lay down in bed, sweet baby. Need to check you entirely”.

She lays down for him, their bodies not at the edge of the bed anymore, fully laying down. He gently removes the straps on her shoulders, kissing every inch of her skin as the fabric passes by. She was breathing heavier now, he could sense how aroused she was. He pushes down the top of her dress until it reaches her waist. Her pink bra is shown to him, one that was one of his gifts for her. “Such a pretty bra, sweetheart. You always look so pretty in it.” He whispers as he traces the item.

He unclaps her bra, her perfect breasts at show to him. His mouth latches to one of them, while he pinches her other nipple. He rolls her buds with his tongue and fingers, the only sound in his room is her desperate and quiet moaning. “Oh god, Leon!”

He switches his fingers and mouth, giving both her delicious nipples the same treatment. When he is done, both are hard and sensitive, ready for more. He had to stop himself, or he would lose control way too quickly. He had to enjoy the night, after days of not listening to his needs.

Her doe, glazed eyes look at him, watching him as he watches her. His hands start to go lower, to the end of her dress. He raised up the clothing, and he groaned at what he saw: her matching panties ruined from her slick, her perfect lips pressing at the wet fabric. “Oh baby, did I do that?” She nods to him, her blush coming back. “Let’s take these out, hm?”.

After her consent, he removes her panties and dress too. Just like last time, her center was red, puffy and gushing. He sighs at the sight, and traces her lower lips gently, easing her into the sensations. Her quiet whimpers were heard, fuelling him to finally go a little further. Just using his thumb, he circles her clit, enough to make her feel good, but still not enough to make her cum. His mouth presses kisses to her neck, leaving love bites to her chest: his claim hidden, their lustful little secret.

Her mouth forms and forms an “O”, and her hips pick up the pace, following his thumb, drunk on so little. The agent smirks to her neck, thumb applying just a little bit more of pressure. She wails louder, her juices soaking his sheets too. “Oh, baby girl… I have been mean, neglecting you, haven’t I?” As she agrees, he gives her a hungry smile, and whispers “no more of that, okay?”.

He crouches between her legs, spreading them apart, and flattens his tongue, licking her cunt. Her body arches at the new feeling, it was something she never felt before. He oscillates his movements in pressing his tongue in her, and sucking her clit to his mouth. Her moans get louder when he enters one finger in her hole, fucking it nice and slowly, letting she get used to it. His mouth doesn’t stop, distracting her from the intrusion. As she got used to it, he added another finger, wanton moans leaving her.

She clutches his hair, it was too much, too much, making her orgasm closer. After days of not getting anything from him, his tongue and fingers pressing into that spot get her to her edge in no time, and she gushes in his face, Leon swallowing it all with low grunts.

He goes to her face, and they finally have their first kiss, marked by her taste and their hunger for each other. He gently wraps his arms around her, letting her shaking body come down, while still connecting their mouths together. He parts to press kisses to her cheeks, murmuring soft praises: “did so good, baby girl”, and “such a pretty girl, all for me”.

After she calms down in his arms, he kisses her again, gently this time. He whispers to her, afraid of breaking their bubble: “that felt good, sweet thing?”

She answers him with an eager nod. At that moment, she was putty in the man's hands, he could ask her anything and she would do it, so he took advantage of that. “Baby, wanna make me feel happier?” he already knew her answer to that, but still had to ask. As she consents again, he starts unbuckling his belt, then, opening the buttons on his pants, not taking it off, it would be her job, after all. He stands before her, letting her sit on the edge of the bed.

The girl looks at him with wide eyes, hopeful and eager to please him. She had an idea of what he was proposing, and she was a mix of nervousness and excitement. He only motions with his head, and she proceeds to take off his pants, his hard, throbbing cock springing free. Her mouth salivates looking at him, ready to please him in any way he asks.

He looks at her with a warm smile, then orders: “Take it baby, it’s yours. I’ll teach you how to do it”.

Not one moment later, she softly grabs his dick, tracing it and admiring it. He sighs, finally relieving himself from all this teasing he had to endure for a long time. He was gonna reap what he sowed. “Put the tip on your mouth, princess, it’s gonna feel even better for me”.

She obeys the older man, sucking his tip lightly. She was clumsy at first, not knowing how to move her tongue, but as she heard his grunts, she fixed her movements. Her soft hands jerked what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, she must’ve done something right, since his grunts turned into moans and huffs. “That’s right baby, suck me dry. Let me fill your mouth, angel.”

As she’s gotten braver, more started to fit in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks like he ordered. Her tongue traces the vein in his cock, and his moans began to get deliciously louder. Although still uncoordinated, her pace gets faster, and in minutes he rips her away. She was so into it she didn’t even notice how Leon looked: he was panting, sweat forming in his face, that was slightly red. “Got me so close baby, you were wonderful”.

She is happy at the praise, happier as he kisses her again - now their mouths had both the taste of them. Like a starved animal, the man gets on top of her, grabbing every inch of flesh he could come across. The kisses were desperate, but still filled with care for her. “Will you let me put it in, sweet baby? Will you let me make love to you?”

Her breath hitches, suddenly nervous. She knew that was coming, but an idea is different from the reality. He notices her nervousness, and slows everything down. He was eager, yes, but she was his baby, and he would take care of her whatever the circumstances were. “Hey, pretty girl, it’s ok if you don’t want to, I promise i won’t be mad-”

Her eyes widened “no, no, no! I really want it… I just don’t wanna disappoint you”. Even if she was naked, she felt exposed to him now. He smiled at her, pressing gentle kisses to her mouth “honey, you would never let me down. Everything we’ve done by now already feels like a dream to me, pretty things like yourself are never present in my life.”

Her body relaxes at the reassurance, and with a more confident smile, her arms wrap around his shoulders, letting him get on top. “Thank you, Leon. I’m ready”.

He hovers her smaller body, putting each of her legs on his hips. He could see her needy wet cunt gaping, desperate to have him. He grabs his member, and slowly pushes into her entrance, drawing heavy breaths from both of them. He slowly inserts more and more to her, checking her reactions, watching if it was too much.

On her end, she was going insane. Her previous orgasm, as well as his fingers helped her. There was a stretch, but it was such a pleasant one. They could feel him opening her tight gummy walls, the slow insertion being heartbreaking for both of them.

As he is fully inside her, he gives the pretty girl a break. “That’s it baby, it’s all in. Did such a great job, letting me get deep inside your pretty hole” he whispers caringly in her ears, waiting for her to adjust to his size.

“I’m okay now, Leon. Please move” her sweet voice begs for him, how could he ever deny her?

He starts moving slowly, letting soft whimpers leave her juicy lips. “Fuck, baby girl, you are swallowing me. I knew your cunt would be this needy, I knew it.” He kisses her passionately, his hips rocking slowly into hers.

Her gasps and moans fuelled him, picking his pace. His body lowers into hers, chest to chest, fucking her throughly, looking directly in her eyes. “My, baby you look so good like this, drunk on my cock. Gonna give it to you everyday, I promise.”

If anyone saw her face, they would tell that she was high, but she was walking on clouds. His big cock made her so full, she finally felt like something was right in her life. That’s where she should be: underneath him, taking what he wanted to give her. “Oh, Leon, please don’t stop…oh god”.

“Won’t stop, baby. I’mma keep fucking you deep, just like my pretty girl deserves.” his hips pick up the pace, now sitting on his toes, arching her hips, making him finally reach that little spot inside her. Her moans are hard to keep down, but she bites her pillow. “Found it, baby. Gonna keep hitting it, darling.”

She now resorted to grabbing hard the sheets, boobs bouncing with his movements, he drilled into her in a way that brought tears to her eyes, she was overwhelmed in pleasure.

His cock throbs inside her, he wished to keep going for a long time, but the vision was too much: her sweet pussy enveloping him, creaming his cock with her juices, while her breasts move on her chest at his force, all that by chanting his name over and over again. One of his hands reaches her swollen red bud, circling it as he fucks her, hoping to make her cum as fast as he will.

“Leon, oh god I’m cumming, oh god, oh god, oh god, please don’t stop!” Her desperate moans are muffled by her pillow once more, her beautiful legs shaking around his hips. He grunts in response to her “that’s it baby, get your cum around my cock, let me paint your pretty insides, fuck, you are only gonna walk around dripping with my cum”.

After a few moments of this, she clamps hard around on his cock, her walls throb, and she cums around him, leaving a nice white ring around his shaft, his title being let out on a final scream. Feeling that, it triggers his own orgasm, making her clamp down harder as she feels him coming inside her “fuck angel, fuck, you are my baby girl, mine, only mine”.

His hips move slowly, letting both come down from their highs. He lowers, torsos touching, giving her a final passionate kiss. He finally stops moving, but remains kissing her, caressing her hair. “Good job, sweet thing, my pretty girl. You make me so proud” he lays beside her, putting her head to rest on his upper chest.

She nuzzles his neck, basking in his affections. “Thank you, Leon. That felt so good”.

Leon realized that they didn't have much longer to keep away from the party without being weird, but he figured she deserved a calm relaxation.

Finally, he was hers and she was his.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy death island

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