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mountsmase · 1 month

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I’m Yours

a/n : hi!! I can’t believe I’m finally posting this fic! I’ve had this concept sat in my drafts since March and I went through a bit of a hard time with writing but I’ve now turned this idea into something that I’m really proud of 🥹 this is the first time I’ve attempted to write something where the reader and Mase aren’t already in an established relationship, so I really hope that I did it justice and that you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!! These two are my babies 🥺 I really hope you enjoy ❤️ feedback is appreciated as always 🫶🏻 (also it’s my first time trying an actual header so please let me know what you think)

word count: 14k +

genre: fluff and smut

“There you are”

The deep rumble of your best friends voice startles you, his suit clad body brushing against the bare skin of your arm as he appears next to you.

Mason pulls out the chair beside your own, sitting down with you in the secluded corner of the crowded room.

The Together for Short Lives gala is well and truly underway, the large ballroom decorated in elegant black and gold furnishings as people talk amongst themselves around the room. It’s packed, an amazing turn out for such a meaningful event.

The evening so far has been nothing short of special, with a dinner followed by an auction, all of the money going to an amazing cause. Your heart filled with pride watching Mason up on the stage and you’re so grateful that he chose to share this night with you.

“You disappeared on me” Mason pouts, glancing down at the cocktail you’re holding in your hands before taking it from you and lifting it to his lips.

He takes a sip and you giggle at the face he pulls as he clearly didn’t enjoying the sweet tasting drink as much as he thought he would.

“Sorry, I just went to get another drink and then I couldn’t find you” You tell him, taking your glass back when he offers it to you.

“You should’ve called me, I’d of come to find you” He replies, and you try to ignore the way your tummy flutters at his words.

“I know you would’ve, but I can handle being alone for a bit, I’m a big girl”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes when you look up at him.

“But what if I wanted to come and find you?”

“Well you’re here now, so it couldn’t of been that difficult” You grin, watching as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and you’re briefly distracted when he reaches up to adjust his tie.

You and Mason have been friends for as long as you can remember.

Your dads used to work together when they were younger and they always had a close relationship both in and out of work, which led to your families becoming close as well. Your mums became inseparable when they were introduced, and a few years later, when you and Mason were born only a few months apart, you naturally became inseparable too.

You grew up together, your parents keeping you close despite the fact that you attended two different schools, and as you got older, your bond only grew stronger.

Some of your best memories are with Mason, you’d stay the weekend at each others houses, spend long afternoons doing homework together before playing in the garden, and there were even a few summers where your families had joint holidays.

It was the two of you against the world, and it had always been that way.

That is until his football career started to take off. You were so proud of him. Your friend was playing for one of the best clubs in the England and you were over the moon to see him doing so well.

But, it unfortunately meant that he became busier and was spending more and more time in London and away from Portsmouth. You tried your best to stay in touch, messaging all the time and video calling when you eventually got phones, but you can’t deny that it was hard not having him around anymore.

Things only started to get difficult when he went on loan to Vitesse when you were 18. It was harder to keep contact with him being away and being so focussed on football, but you’d never blame him for the fact you drifted apart.

You were in college at the time, spending any available minuet that you had on your classes, making sure you could pass your exams and get into the uni you’d always dreamed of attending.

It was difficult, you couldn’t be there for each other as much as you’d of liked to be, and as much as you’d both tried your hardest to stop it, it started becoming harder and harder as time went on.

You’d only see each other at family events like birthdays and weddings and it got to the point where you’d only talk once every few months or so. Even when he came back to the UK and was living in Cobham, you’d video call to catch up and then not speak to each other again for weeks unless you had something specific to talk about.

It was all part of growing up though. He was still one of your best friends, someone you knew you could trust and could call if you ever needed anything, and you were the same to him.

You both became increasingly busy, especially when he began playing for the first team and you were going through university, so it made sense that it became harder to make time for each other.

But, last year, it all changed.

After graduating from university and receiving your degree three years ago, you were presented with an amazing job opportunity in Manchester, which you just couldn’t say no to. It was a big change for you, moving somewhere so far away from home and having to start a new life in a new city, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You’re doing amazing at work, having received a promotion not even two years after joining your company, and you’ve got a cute little apartment that you’ve well and truly made your own.

You really didn’t think it could get much better, but you were proved wrong when Mason transferred to Man United last summer.

After a lot of uncertainty surrounding his career, Mason was relived to finally know who he would be playing for next season and was excited to start his new life up in Manchester.

You were one of the only people he knew in the city, and when he reached out, you offered for him to stay in your spare bedroom whilst he settled in and found a place to call his own.

He obviously took you up on your offer, loving the extra time he got to spend with you and the familiarity that came with being in your presence.

You had the best month living together. It was like you’d never been apart, all of those years of having distance between you forgotten. You’d cook dinner together, have movie nights, talk to each other after you’d had a bad day at training or work and even after he moved out and into his new home, you still spent as much time together as possible.

You had your best friend back, and you had truly never felt happier.

Now, fast forward 8 months, and you’re questioning if that’s really all you are anymore.

You’ve always known that Mason is an attractive guy. I mean, how could you not? He’s gorgeous.

But recently that attraction has grown deeper. And not only in a physical way.

The last couple of months have been filled with lingering touches and longing gazes, the line between friendship and something more slowly becoming blurred.

He’s no longer just Mason, your best friend, but he’s Mason, the guy you think, sorry, know that you’re in love with.

Mason is one of the few people who treats you like you’re somebody. He makes you feel like the most special girl in the world without even trying and you’ve had to remind yourself one too many times recently that there’s nothing more going on between you.

You haven’t mentioned your feelings to him because you’re scared. Scared of loosing him and ruining what is such an important friendship to you. Scared that you aren’t enough for him.

You didn’t have the best experience in your last relationship, and you know deep down that Mason would never treat you the way he did and that there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You’re a pretty girl who has good morals and a good head on your shoulders.

But, the fear that you’re not good enough - that you wouldn’t be able to give him what he wants and needs - still clouds your mind, and it’s one of the reasons why you won’t admit anything to him.

And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? After the last couple of months you know deep down that he could, but the last thing you want is to throw away your friendship over it.

You just can’t ignore the growing tension between the two of you.

But…neither can he.

Mason has felt for a long time that there’s no one else for him but you, and his feelings for you just grew stronger after moving to Manchester.

You took him in and made him feel at home in a city where mostly everything was new to him, supported him through a tough transition period, and after moving out of your spare bedroom he found himself craving your company more than anyone else’s.

You feel like home to him.

Tough day at training? He wants to see you. He saw something funny on TikTok? It’s you he wants to send it to you. He burnt his toast that morning? He wants to tell you. You’re at the forefront of his mind all the time.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever set his eyes on, both inside and out. You’ve got a heart of gold and he would do anything in his power to protect you from the harsh reality’s of the world. You’re the most important person to him, he just wants to make you happy and see you smiling all the time.

This tension that’s been building between you recently has been killing him, and as much as he worries that you won’t feel the same way, he doesn’t think he can hold in his feelings much longer.

There’s been too many moments where he’s had to stop himself from leaning in and claiming your lips with his own, and it’s been becoming harder and harder to restrain himself.

Especially tonight.

He’d invited you to join him and Lewis as a plus one to the black tie gala, wanting to experience the evening with you and share something that’s always been so special to him.

When you stepped out of the lift earlier in the evening, his heart soared at the sight of you in your floor length gown. You left him speechless, and he’s not been able to take his eyes off of you ever since.

The black material hugs your body in all of the right places, perfectly contrasting against your tanned skin. You’ve matched it with a pair of strappy heals and silver jewellery, going for a simple yet elegant look.

There’s a slit down the left side, starting at your upper thigh, and the sight of your leg poking out from underneath the satin fabric has Mason’s mind wandering to places that he knows it shouldn’t.

You look absolutely stunning, and he’s been struggling to hold himself back all evening.

He’s found his attention drifting to you through out the night, more often than not becoming distracted from whatever conversation he’s having to admire you, and he’d quickly become captivated by your presence.

Sitting next to you now is no different, he can’t help but let his eyes drift down your body and your cheeks heat when you notice his wandering gaze.

There’s a look of longing in his eyes, one you’ve become familiar with, but until tonight you’ve always thought that you’ve been imagining it.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, Mase”

The sound of your soft voice has his attention snapping away from your body, and your heart skips a beat when his warm brown eyes find yours.

His cheeks flush from being caught, but his confidence doesn’t falter.

“Yeah? And what are you going to do if I don’t?” He whispers, loud enough for only you to hear and the teasing smirk that finds his lips has your heart racing in your chest.

You’re overcome by a wave of shyness, any response that you may have had dying in your throat as he shuffles closer to you, his knee nudging into yours under the table.

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, but the urge to touch you suddenly becomes too much to ignore. He finds himself reaching out, his warm palm landing against your exposed thigh as his other arm snakes behind you, resting against the back of your chair. Your skin burns under his touch, breath hitching in your throat when his thumb rubs in tender circles over the inside of your thigh.

Mason has always been a touchy person, you’ve seen and experienced it over your years of friendship, but there’s something about the way he’s touching you now that has your head spinning.

His hand ventures a little higher and you fumble to open your purse, pulling out your lipgloss and phone in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you’ve avoided his question when you open the camera app, using it as a makeshift mirror to reapply the gloss.

He watches as you swipe the applicator over your pink, plump lips, the action captivating him and it takes all of his self restraint to not lean in and kiss you right there and then.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Bambi”

You pop the lid back onto the tube and place it back into your purse - your distraction techniques having been unsuccessful - and look up and into his eyes.

The whispered compliment has butterflies erupting in your tummy, your lips tugging up into a smile upon hearing the nickname he’s always used for you.

It started when you were 10, you always loved the movie and had invited him over to watch it with you after school one day. About half way through you stood up to go and find more popcorn but being your clumsy self you’d ended up tripping over your own feet.

Mase took the opportunity to compare your clumsiness to that of the deer, and at first he used the nickname as a joke, but then it stuck, and now, even in your twenties he still liked to use it. And you love to hear it.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Masey” you tell him, letting your gaze drop briefly and you take allow yourself a moment to admire him.

Mason is handsome even on his worst days - you’re convinced that he could wear the ugliest outfit ever and somehow still pull it off - but there something about the way he looks tonight that has you breathless.

The suit he’s wearing is simple - perfect for a black tie event. A white shirt with a black jacket and trousers, a matching tie and some dress shoes to complete the look. The chest strap that he wore earlier in the evening has been abandoned, the jacket now undone allowing for more of a relaxed look as the evening goes on.

His hair is freshly trimmed, styled into a short quiff and his facial hair is neat, more of a long stubble than a full beard. The lighting in the room is dim, but you can still make out all of his features, the freckles that are dotted over his cheeks, his long lashes and the dimple that appears whenever he smiles. He’s utterly breathtaking.

“Remind me to thank whoever tailored this suit for you” You smile, gaze locking onto his again as you reach up, smoothing your hands over the lapels of his jacket.

“You like it?”

“I love it, you look so handsome” you let your hands drop back into your lap and he misses your touch immediately.

“Yeah?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you nod gently.

You feel his arm move from behind you as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before brushing down your jaw and you become hyper-aware of how close you are when you feel his breath fanning over your cheek.

It feels as though the air around you has suddenly shifted, his gaze swimming with an emotion that you can’t quite place. The intense eye contact becomes too much for you, your eyes momentarily dropping to his chest but he brings them back to his with a hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so that you have no choice but to look at him.

His gaze drops to your lips, once, twice, and a third time, until the desire to feel them against his own becomes too overwhelming. He’s leaning in before he has a chance to stop himself, the lack of hesitation in your eyes only urging him on until someone clears their throat behind you.

“Hey guys” Lewis’ voice snaps you and Mason back to reality, the room around you coming back into focus.

His presence causes Mason to jump away from you, an unwelcome chill touching your skin where his hand no longer rests against your thigh. He groans in annoyance and turns towards his brother.

You release the breath you never realised you were holding, clearing your throat and fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress as Mason looks up at Lewis expectantly.

If he saw anything, he doesn’t let it show.

“Sorry Mase, there’s a few people asking for you”

Mason nods politely, standing up before turning to hold a hand out for you.

“You coming?” He asks, acting as though nothing happened - that he hasn’t just nearly kissed you.

It takes you a few more seconds to regain your composure, blinking up at him a few times before eventually nodding and taking his outstretched hand.

He helps you up, waiting until Lewis has turned away to lift your joint hands to his lips. He places a quick kiss to your knuckles, sending you a soft smile before letting them drop between you again and he doesn’t let go as you follow him through the crowd, fingers still intertwined as Lewis introduces you to an older man who you recognise as one of the event organisers.

You try your best to focus on the conversations that are happening in front of you. You really do.

But it’s hard to concentrate with Mason’s fingers still tangled with yours and the thought of what could’ve happened had Lewis not interrupted you a few moments ago.

That’s the second time you’ve almost kissed him. The first being a few weeks ago when he’d invited you and a few of your other friends over for a games night.

You’d gotten to Mason’s a little earlier than everyone else, wanting to spend a bit of extra time with him before the others arrived and you were in the kitchen, helping him find some snacks and drinks when your favourite song had come on shuffle through the speakers.

One thing led to another and you were dancing around the kitchen, singing your little heart out as Mason stood back and watched you, giggling at your terrible dance moves.

As the song went on you got a little more into it, accidentally crashing into him after tripping over your own feet and he’d reached out to steady you, the two of you laughing together as you found your footing and rested against his chest.

Your laughter had slowly died down, the air around you thickening as you looked up to find him already gazing down at you. The warm look in his eyes could only be described as endearment and what happened next was a bit of blur.

He was leaning in when the door bell went off, the others arriving at the worst time and ruining the moment without even realising.

You’ve thought about it every day since, wondering what could’ve been, and now here you are weeks later, still asking yourself the same questions.

You’re brought back to the present moment when Mason squeezes your hand, dragging your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you.

“You okay?” He mumbles close to your ear, hand letting go of yours to instead wrap around your waist and you melt into his warmth as he tugs you closer.

You nod, sending him a smile that says you’re cool, calm and collected, but it’s as much of a facade as it can be when inside you’re feeling the complete opposite.

“How about one more drink and then we head back to the hotel?” Mason suggests a few hours later, glancing down to his watch and noticing that it’s nearing 11pm.

“You guys go ahead, I’m going to go and talk to a few more people and then I’ll come and find you guys” Lewis tells you before heading to the other side of the room and you follow Mason over to the bar.

“Water?” Mason asks, voice low as you approach counter.

He knows you’re not the biggest drinker, only ever choosing to have one or two drinks when you go out, and you’ve already had a cocktail and a glass of wine with your dinner.

“Please” You smile, glancing over to him as he orders and pays for your drinks.

“Sorry mate, any chance we can grab a straw please?” Mason asks the bar tender when he places your water down in front of you, and you feel your cheeks warm at the simple gesture. You’ve always preferred drinking with straws, some people may think it’s weird, but to Mason it’s just one of the many things he loves about you.

You thank him as he slides the glass towards you, watching as he takes the paper wrapped straw from the bartender with a cheeky grin. He tears off the end of the wrapper, bringing the exposed end of the straw to his lips and you could predict what he was about to do from a mile off, but it still makes you jump when he blows on the straw, sending the paper flying and he laughs as it hits your cheek before landing on the counter next to you.

“Mason” You groan playfully, shaking your head at his childish behaviour. Still, you can’t help but laugh with him, and his heart soars at the sound.

It’s not long later that you’re leaving the venue after finishing your drinks and saying your goodbyes, stepping out into the chilly evening air as Lewis steps aside to call a taxi.

“Did you have a good night?” Mason asks, coming to stand beside you.

A gust of wind ruffles his hair, a couple of strands falling onto his forehead and you have to fight the urge to reach up and brush them away for him.

“Yeah I did, thank you for inviting me, it was special” you smile up at him, rubbing your palms against your bare arms in an attempt to keep warm when the wind picks up. The temperature has dropped significantly since earlier in the evening, and you’re now regretting your choice to not bring a second layer with you.

Mason doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket when he notices you shivering, slipping it over your shoulders before you can protest. You snuggle into it’s warmth, breathing in the scent of his cologne that still lingers on the fabric.

“Better?” He murmurs, making sure its wrapped around you enough before draping an arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you” You nod, melting into his side when he gently tugs you towards him.

The wait for the taxi isn’t too long, and you stay snuggled up to Mason’s side as he chats away to Lewis about your plans for getting back to Manchester tomorrow. You don’t pay any attention to their conversation though, too busy focussing on his little touches to listen to what they’re saying.

He holds you close, absentmindedly tracing patterns into your shoulder through the material of his jacket. You’re resting against his chest, and it rumbles underneath your cheek whenever he speaks, his soft voice soothing you.

You could stay wrapped up in him forever, but your bubble is popped when the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of you.

Lewis takes the front seat, letting you and Mason sit in the back together and you slide in when he holds the door open for you. He climbs in behind you, pouting as you settle into the far seat rather than the one next to his.

It’s only a short drive back to the hotel, and you spend it in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at Mason every now and then, unable to take your eyes away from him as the street lights shine through the windows, casting a golden glow over his features.

He turns his head suddenly, feeling the heat of your gaze, but you're quick to look away, cheeks blazing when you realise he’s caught you staring.

You start fiddling with your rings, one of the telltale signs that you’re nervous, but a warm hand intertwines with yours, stopping your fidgeting. Mason is already looking at you when you glance up at him, and your heart soars at the gentle look in his eyes. There’s a certain warmth behind them that tells you everything is okay, and you settle back into the seat, sliding your fingers between his and not letting go for the rest of the journey.

Mason is the first out of the car when you pull up in front of your hotel, quickly making his way around to your door before opening it for you and you accept the hand he holds out, letting him help you climb out. He quickly tips and thanks the driver before leading you into the hotel, through the lobby and towards the lifts.

You bid your good nights to Lewis when he steps out on his level, leaving you and Mason alone as the doors close behind him. You settle into another comfortable silence as you continue up to your floor.

The doors slide open and Mason moves aside, letting you step out in front of him before following you down the hall towards your room, wanting to make sure you get back safely.

You stop in front of your door, reaching into your purse to retrieve your room key before turning to thank him for walking you back, but the words get stuck on your tongue, not quite feeling ready to say goodnight to him yet.

“Stay with me tonight?” You whisper, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that has somehow been set in the hallway, “we can order room service and watch something, just like we do at home”

He doesn’t respond straight away, and for a very brief moment you worry that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but you watch as his gaze softens, and he keeps his voice low as he says “Let me just go and grab a few things from my room and then I’ll be back, yeah?”

“Okay” you nod, watching as he heads back down the hallway before letting yourself into your room.

You feel giddy, buzzing with nervous excitement as you slip Mason’s jacket off and lay it over the back of the chair before busying yourself with tidying a few things away, making the room look a bit more presentable as you’d left it a mess in your rush to leave earlier.

You’re not sure where the sudden jitters have come from, it’s Mason. You’ve always spent nights at each others houses, snuggled on the sofa, talking until late before falling asleep in each others company. But something about tonight feels different.

You don’t have long to dwell on it though, hearing two taps on the door as you put the last few bits back into your suitcase.

His smile is bright as you swing the door open, stepping aside for him to come in and your eyes drop to his chest as he brushes past you. He didn’t bother changing, but his tie is nowhere to be seen, the top few buttons of his shirt now undone and his silver chain - the one that you brought him for his birthday last year - peaks out from underneath the fabric.

You click the door closed behind him, following him into the room and watching as he puts a few things down on the table beside the bed - his charger and what you think is his toothbrush, along with his wallet and a spare change of clothes for the morning.

“So, room service?” He asks, flopping down onto the bed and settling against the headboard.

He makes himself comfortable, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows as you grab the food menu from the desk in front of the TV. Your breath catches in your throat when you turn to face him, your mouth going dry as the dark ink on his forearm steals your attention.

A smirk ghosts his lips upon noticing your brief loss of composure, but he chooses not to bring it up, instead patting the spot next him.

You slip off your heels, putting them to the side before climbing onto the mattress to sit beside him. “How about pizza? I’m not too hungry so maybe we could share?”

“Sounds good, chips as well?” He suggests and you agree, trying to pass him the menu but he doesn’t take it from you, “You choose, I’m not fussed”

You decide on a classic margherita, letting Mason call downstairs to place the order whilst you reach over him and grab the remote from the table next to his side of the bed. He sucks in a sharp breath when your hand falls on his upper thigh, not so innocently steadying yourself as you lean over him. You can’t say that you’d meant to touch him like that, but you won’t pretend that you didn’t love his reaction.

“Sorry” you mumble, cheeks flaming as you sit back and busy yourself with turning on the TV, logging into your Netflix account whilst he takes a deep breath next to you and finishes ordering the food.

You put on an episode of a series that you’ve been watching together, catching each other up on some plans that you have for the next couple of weeks whilst you wait for your food to arrive and you eat in a comfortable silence when it does, Mason letting you have the last slice of pizza like always.

After clearing away the tray and placing it in the hallway, you lock the door behind you and settle back onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side when he lifts his arm for you.

“Thank you for coming with us tonight. I know it’s a long way from home but it means a lot to have you at these things with me” He tells you, a warm feeling spreading through you as he pulls you closer and rests his cheek against the top of your head.

His arm settles around you, holding you at the waist as you rest your head against his shoulder. You sling your arm over his torso, goosebumps erupting over your skin when his free hand comes to rest on your forearm, fingertips tracing over your skin.

“Thank you again for inviting me, and you know I don’t mind” You tell him, tightening your arms around him slightly, “I’d fly to the other side of the world with you if you asked me to”

He chuckles into your hair, his smile widening. “Yeah? Looks like I should ask them to have the next gala in Australia then”

“Yes! You know I’ve always wanted to go and meet Kangaroos”

“It’s a long flight though, you’d have to let me sleep on your shoulder the whole way there”

“Oh,” you pout at him jokingly, “you wouldn’t buy me a business class ticket?”

His fingertips creep up your waist and you giggle, thrashing against him when they tickle over your skin through the material of your dress.

“I’ll take that as a no then” You sigh dramatically, slumping back into his arms when his fingers relent.

“I’d buy you as many business class tickets as you want, Bambi”

Here we go again with the butterflies.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, Mason keeping his arms locked around you as he tries to switch his focus back to the TV, but it’s impossible when you’re cuddled up to him so closely.

There’s something about being in your presence that makes him feel so calm. There’s no need for him to fake anything, no need for him to worry. He can just be ‘Mase’ without any added expectations or anyone analysing his every move. You accept him for him, and he thanks his lucky stars everyday that your parents met all of those years ago because he’s really not sure what he’d do without you.

But tonight he’s nervous. He’s not sure what it is because these feelings for you are by no means new, but after he nearly slipped up and kissed you once earlier, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if it happens again.

He wants you. Physically, emotionally, whatever you’re willing to give him, he’d take it, and tonight might just be the night that he does.

He doesn’t realise that he’s been staring at you until you tilt your head to look up at him, having felt the heat of his gaze.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He whispers, a soft smile sitting on his lips.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as they drop down to your lips, only for a millisecond before returning to your own and your heart rate quickens, a giddy feeling spreading through you.

“Maybe a few times” you tease, lips curling into a smile, “but you can tell me again”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, “You look gorgeous, always the prettiest girl in the room” He tells you, heart thudding in his chest as a shaky hand comes up to cup your jaw.

His nose bumps against yours as he leans closer. His lips are mere inches away, your heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure he can probably hear it.

When you show no signs of hesitation he closes the distance, touching his lips to yours in a tender kiss that you feel all the way from your head down to the tips of your toes.

You feel yourself melting into him as he works his lips over yours with ease, one of his hands cupping your cheek as the other gently pushes against your hip, encouraging you to roll onto your back and your arms wind around his shoulders as he moves to hover over you.

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling of his lips against yours after what feels like an eternity of waiting for this exact moment, your hand weaving into the short strands of hair on the back of his head to hold him to you.

He keeps it soft, your whole body tingling from how gentle he’s being with you as his lips move over yours with a certain tenderness that has you craving more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that” He breathes, forehead resting against yours when you separate to catch your breaths.

His heart flip-flops in his chest at the smile that paints your lips, unable to prevent his own as you gaze up at him with twinkling eyes.

“Then who am I to stop you from doing it again?”

You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to close the distance again, but when he leans forward he brushes a kiss over your cheek instead, a whine leaving you as you try and chase his lips but he only pulls back further.

“I need to know that you definitely want this Y/N” he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you, “I know I do, but I’ll never forgive myself if later on you realise that you don’t”

His voice sounds small, the confidence that he exuded earlier slowly fading away, and your heart aches as rest your head back into the pillows to look at him properly.

You slide your hand up from his shoulder, cradling his face in your palm and your heart soars when he leans into your touch.

“Mason, my whole life I’ve known it’s been you” You tell him, gently brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek and a soft smile finds his lips at your words. “I want this, I want you”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything” You whisper, watching as his features relax.

“I might have to change my mind if you don’t kiss me again though”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, not waiting another second before leaning back in.

It’s like someone has flipped a switch, all form of restraint gone as he claims your lips with a searing kiss that has your spine tingling. He coaxes your lips apart, easily slipping his tongue between them and he takes his time to explore your mouth, brushing his tongue over yours with slow, deliberate strokes.

His hand roams down your dress clad body, kneading into your skin through the satin like fabric and you arch your back into his touch, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a desperate attempt to feel him closer. His warm palm slides over your hip, finding the bare skin of your thigh, exposed through the slit of your dress, and he hooks your leg over his waist.

You moan into his mouth as he presses his hips into yours, the sound going straight to his centre and his length twitches in the confines of his boxers.

“You definitely want to do this?” He asks between kisses, his lips leaving yours to move over your cheek and down to your jaw.

You nod, tilting your head back to allow him better access as he trails his kisses down your throat.

“I need your words, Y/N” he urges, pulling back to look at you.

“Yes Mason, please” You plead, just wanting to feel his lips on your skin again.

He doesn’t waste anymore time, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck and you shiver when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, his lips peppering kisses wherever he can reach and you whimper when finds your sweet spot, your sounds only encouraging him.

He sucks on the sensitive spot below your ear, teeth grazing over your skin before soothing the sting with his tongue and then he’s continuing his kisses down your body.

“As much as I love this dress on, I’d much rather it be off right now” he speaks when his kisses meet the neckline of your dress, the material obstructing his path and stopping him from going any further.

You attempt to reach behind you to undo the buttons that hold it together, but you can’t quite reach them, your position on the bed just leading to an awkward tangle of limbs. You huff out a breath, slumping back into the duvet as he watches you, clearly trying to hold himself back from laughing.

You send him an unimpressed glare, trying once more to reach behind but you only end up finding yourself in the same predicament as before.

“Help me” you pout, and he leans down to kiss it away, loosening his hold on your waist before getting off the bed.

“C’mon, jump up” He holds his hands out for you and you take them, letting him pull you up until you’re standing in front of him.

He moves you so that you’re stood with your back to his chest, his hands lightly brushing down your arms and you shiver under his touch, instinctively leaning back into his warmth.

“May I?” He asks softly, his breath tickling over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Y-yeah” you stutter, trying to steady your beating heart as he brushes your hair to one side.

He must notice the way you tense up as he reaches for the buttons, his lips pressing to your shoulder in an attempt to calm you.

“Relax sweetheart, it’s just me” he whispers, and you force yourself to take a deep breath.

But what if that’s the issue? It’s just him, just Mason. The man you’ve loved for years. You’re comfortable in your body, but what if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he changes his mind? What if -

Your thoughts are cut off when he gently takes a hold of your waist, turning you around to face him and you’re met with his soft expression, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He whispers, trying to meet your gaze but you look down, eyes focussing on his chest as a wave of shyness washes over you.

“Hey, look at me” He says, keeping his voice gentle as he brings two fingers to lightly nudge your chin so that you look at him again.

“Sorry, I just…” you begin, and he’s patient with you when you stop to take a few deep breaths, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it’s just- the last guy I was with like this wasn’t the nicest and he had a fair amount of things to say about my body and - god I’m so sorry” You quickly cut yourself off when you notice you’re rambling, cheeks flaming when you release what you’ve just admitted to him.

Mason feels his heart breaking more and more with every word that leaves your lips. He could never understand how anybody could be so cruel. He feels himself growing angry at the thought of anyone treating you that way and frustrated with himself for not being able to protect you from someone like that.

He knows deep down that there’s nothing he could’ve done to stop it, but you should’ve never had to go through that, and it pains him to know that someone hurt you so deeply.

He doesn’t let his feelings show though, instead making a promise to himself to never, ever, make you feel anything less than beautiful. You deserve so much more and he’s ready to show you just how perfect you are and treat you the way you deserve.

“Listen to me angel, you have nothing to apologise for okay?” his voice is firm, making sure you’re looking right at him before continuing.

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. No one should’ve treated you that way. You deserve so much more baby. You are the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on Y/N, and I need you to know that I’d never treat you like that.” He tells you, cradling your cheeks in his palms as he rests his forehead against yours.

You nod as best as you can, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your smile as his words sink in.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight Y/N, if you don’t want to we can just watch another movie or something, I won’t be upset. All I want is for you to feel comfortable.”

Your nodding quickly turns into you shaking your head instead.

“No Mase, I want to do this. I want you.” You reassure him and he leans back slightly, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead before lowering his hands to your waist again.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course” you tell him, gulping down the nervous lump in your throat and willing your heart rate to slow down.

“Okay, you still want me to take this off?”

His fingers fiddle with the thin straps of your dress as you nod, trying not to seem to eager. “Please”

“Turn around for me then angel”

You do just that, turning around so that your back is facing him again and his touch is gentle, barely there as he reaches up to brush your hair to the side once more. His lips find the nape of your neck, scattering kisses over your skin, and this time you don’t tense up as he reaches for the fabric.

He’s slow in releasing the buttons, his fingers skimming over your now exposed skin as he takes his time, undoing them one by one before finally reaching the last after what feels like a life time. His lips never leave your skin as his hands lift to brush the straps off of your shoulders, guiding the material down your body before dropping it to pool around your ankles.

Left in nothing but a pair of black, lacy panties, it takes all of your strength to turn and face him. He takes you in, allowing his gaze to drift down your body and he feels himself twitch in the confines of his boxers. The sight of you bare in front of him makes his head spin, feeling overwhelmed by the need to reach out and touch you.

“So fucking pretty” he murmurs, his words setting your body alight as his hand slays out on your waist.

There’s a bright look in his eyes as he draws you closer, guiding you to step out of your dress, and you forget why you were ever worried.

“Thank you for trusting me” he whispers against your temple, scattering featherlight kisses there as you lean further into his body.

Wrapping his arms around your waist he trails his kisses down your face, over your cheeks before landing on your lips.

You melt into him, his grip keeping you upright as you kiss him back with everything you have. Your hands creep up his back, one finding its way into his hair as the other clutches onto his shoulder. Nails dig into his skin through the material of his shirt but he doesn’t care, losing himself in the feeling of your lips on his.

Your fingers rake through his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle and his lips part on a gasp when your nails scratch over his scalp. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue between his lips, clashing with his own as you fight to take control.

It’s a little messy, but neither of you care, years of pent up feelings and frustrations being poured into the kiss until the burning desire to please him becomes too strong to ignore.

“You’ve still got way too many clothes on” you complain between kisses and he chuckles against your lips, reaching to unbutton his shirt.

“No, sit” you say, and he falls back onto the edge of the mattress with a gentle push of your hands against his shoulders.

He leans back, gazing up at you through his lashes, watching with dark eyes as you settle into his lap with a new found confidence.

You leave enough space between you to reach up and fiddle with his buttons, undoing them one by one as your lips scatter kisses over his jaw. His pulls you forwards by your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you continue to undress him.

You struggle a little due to how close you are, but you manage to get the last few buttons undone, working the shirt off his shoulders. It gets discarded behind you, joining your dress on the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

His shoulders flex as he leans back on his hands and you take him in, eyes dragging down his chest from the chain that dangles around his neck to the small tattoo that sits high on his ribs, there’s a light dusting of hair on his chest, his muscles softly toned.

You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but sitting under you now he has you unable to think straight. You have never been so turned on just by looking at someone.

Your need to please him becomes stronger by the second, your mouth having a mind of its own as you trail your kisses down his neck, lighting sucking on his skin until you find his sweet spot. A breathy whine falls from his lips, his fingers digging into your hips a little tighter and that’s when you know you’ve found it, your lips closing over the most sensitive patch of skin.

Your lips graze over the area, licking and nipping as you make your way down to his collarbones, careful not to leave any marks where they may be visible.

He shivers, trembling under your touch as your hands slide down from his shoulders and over his chest, your lips following their path. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tease at the skin right next to his nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a sneaky mark before continuing down to his tummy, making sure to pay special attention to any moles or freckles that you find on your way.

Your legs feel like jelly as you climb off his lap and lower to your knees in front of him, hands pushing his thighs apart to allow you enough space to settle between them. The carpet is rough against your skin, but you can’t bring your self to care as you shuffle around to get more comfortable.

He isn’t without your touch long, his muscles fluttering under your fingers as you graze your lips over the soft ridges of his abs, placing open mouthed kisses along the waist band of his trousers until he grows impatient, his hands aimlessly reaching for his belt.

“Let me” you murmur, moving his hands back to rest by his sides before finding the buckle.

You’re slow in pulling it from the loops, taking your time as you drop it behind you and move to undo the button and zipper, dragging it down at an agonisingly slow pace before sitting back and allowing him to lift his hips. You drag the fabric down his legs along with his boxers, mouth watering as his already hard length springs free from the confines of the fabric.

“Much better,” you drawl, and he lets out a whimper as your lips kiss a path along the inside of his thigh, ignoring the area he needs you the most before moving to the other.

“Y/N, please do something” he pleads, but you don’t need to be told twice, his thighs jumping when a dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock.

He feels thick and heavy in your palm when you give him an experimental tug, glancing up through your lashes to see his eyes fluttering closed, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

“Feel good, Mase?” You coo, and his eyes pop open again, the sight of you on your knees between his legs making him feel light headed.

“S-so good” he stutters, hips raising to meet your hand as you twist it over him again before releasing him all together.

You run your fingertips over the underside of his length and he lets out a breathy moan of your name, the sound going straight to your core as you swirl your fingers over his tip and smear the drop of pre cum that’s collected there.

“Fuck, Y/N” he curses, struggling to keep his eyes open as you move your hand back to his base, holding him steady as you lower your head, lips wrapping around his tip.

You flick your tongue over his slit, humming as the salty taste of his pre cum coats your tastebuds and he drops back, resting on his elbows and watching as you take more of him.

You relax your jaw, moving further down his length and taking as much of him as you can whilst your hand works what you can’t fit in your mouth. The sinful sounds that leave his lips only spur you on, continuing to bob your head as you gaze up at him through your lashes.

“Oh my-, fucking hell” he pants, his hand reaching for the back of your head to gather your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. “You’re so good at that”

His eyes squeeze closed when you take him even further and you gag, eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat before pulling back to catch your breath.

Your hands keep up their movements, twisting and tugging until you take him into your mouth again and you let him guide you this time, hollowing your cheeks as he lowers your mouth down his length.

You brace your free hand against his thigh, letting him pick up the pace slightly as you work him towards his release.

“Gonna make me come, Y/N” he sighs, the feeling of your warm mouth around him sending him hurtling towards his orgasm.

“I’ve got you, Mase, come for me” you coo, and he fights to keep his hips still as you pay attention to his head again, tongue swirling over his tip.

One final flick of your tongue over his slit and he’s cuming into your mouth with a grunt, hand tightening in your hair as you work him through his high, swallowing every last drop. You only move away when his hips start bucking from the sensitivity, leaving one final kiss to his tip before sitting back on your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.

After a few moments of comfortable silence he smiles down at you softly, reaching out for you and you take his hands, standing on shaky legs before lowering yourself back into his lap.

“You okay?” he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch when he cups his hand over your jaw.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his tongue moving over yours and he hums when he tastes himself on your mouth.

His hands trail up your thighs until he finds your panties, hooking his fingers under the fabric, pulling them back before releasing them to snap against your skin.

“Lets get these off” He mumbles, helping you climb off his lap and you move to stand in front of him, shimmying the scrap of lace down your legs as he watches you with crazed eyes until you’re completely bare in front of him.

“Lay down for me” he requests and you do as he asks, sinking back into the duvet as you rest your head against the pillows.

You watch as he stands, walking around the bed to pick his wallet up from the pile of stuff he brought with him earlier and he pulls out a shiny foil packet before climbing back onto the bed.

“Not so fast, baby girl” he tuts as you reach for it, trying to take it from between his fingers, but he places it to the side instead.

“Lay back and let me love on you a little bit”

He moves to hover over you and his lips are on yours in an instant, staying there for just a moment before trailing his kisses over your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and nibbling on your delicate skin as he makes his way down your throat.

“Mase” The moan tumbles from your lips, nails scratching the skin on the back of his neck as you bring your hand up in a desperate attempt to move him lower.

“What do you want, Angel?” He coos, voice vibrating against your skin as he kisses over your collar bones.

“Y-you, please”

“Patience, baby. Let me take my time with you”

And take his time with you he does, his lips dragging over every inch of skin that he can reach as he learns and memorises all of your favourite spots, the ones that have you making those sweet little noises he’s loving so much.

He mouths over your chest, kissing from one side to the other before closing his lips over your nipple and your back arches to meet his mouth as he licks over the sensitive nub, his hand sliding up your body to pay attention to the other. He gropes at your skin, pinching and tugging at your nipple before switching sides to pay them equal attention.

His other hand stays steady on your waist as his lips continue south, keeping you pressed into the mattress when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, causing you to squirm against him.

“Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asks, and you glance down at him, mind reeling as he gazes back at you through his lashes.

You nod vigorously, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slides his hands up the insides of your thighs, separating them enough to settle between them and his breath fans over your core as he inches closer.

“Fuck, look at you” he coos, teasing two fingers through your folds to collect your wetness and your brain short circuits when he takes them between his lips, humming as you coat his tastebuds.

“Taste incredible”

He uses the same two fingers to circle over your clit, waves of pleasure shooting up your spine, and you can’t help the pathetic moan that falls from your lips, head dropping back against the pillows as he shuffles closer.

“Feel good, Angel?” He hums, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh.

“Yes Mase, fuck. More” you plead, and his mouth finally meets your centre, a barely there kiss being pressed to your clit before he licks a long stripe up your entrance.

His hands move to hold your hips down as he eats you out like you’re his last meal, no longer wanting to hold back and your moans only encourage him. He alternates between licking and sucking, sealing his lips around your little bundle of nerves before dropping to dip his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging against your clit which has you moaning uncontrollably, back arching to meet his mouth.

Your hands fly to the back of his head, needing something to hold onto, and he hums against you when you tug on his hair, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure that you’re feeling.

You’re unable to think straight, the feeling of his mouth against your core making you forget about everything other then him and how good he’s making you feel, and it’s not long until you feel your orgasm creeping up.

“Mase, oh fuck” you sigh, and when he brings a hand between you to slip a finger through your folds, you’re done for.

His other arm hooks under your thigh, holding you open for him as he slips his finger inside of you, pumping it a few times to stretch you out before adding another.

“I’m gonna cum, Mase, oh my god” you whine, and he doesn’t relent, pulsing his fingers inside of you, his tongue working in tandem with them as he swirls it around your bundle of nerves.

“Let go for me, baby” he encourages, and you cum on his tongue as he suctions his lips around your clit, seeing stars as your orgasm hits you like a wave.

He works you through it, licking you clean until you’re tugging at his hair and he moves away, crawling back up your body.

You lay limp underneath him, eyes closed and lips parted as you catch your breath, feeling well and truly spent from the orgasm he just gave you. Your cheeks are flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, and your make up is slightly smudged, but he still swears that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful, his heart fluttering at the sight of you underneath him.

“So pretty” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your cheeks and the butterflies - the ones that have made a permanent home in your stomach - come back out in full force.

You flutter your eyes open and the twinkle that you find in his own has your insides turning to warm, bubbly liquid, his expression swimming with fondness.

“How are you feeling, baby?” He asks, shuffling slightly so that he can rest his weight against one elbow before trailing his free hand up your thigh, massaging your hips where he was gripping before.

“Good” you smile up at him, fingers toying with the chain that still sits around his neck, “More than good, actually. But there is one thing that would make me feel even better”

He raises an eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You gather as much strength as you can in your post orgasm daze, hooking your legs over his waist to pull his hips down into yours and his eyes widen, realising what you mean.

“Needy girl” he tuts, hissing when you grind your hips and his hard length grazes over your core, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Please Masey. Need to feel you”

“I know baby girl, I’ve got you. Just relax for me”

He gives you a quick yet tender kiss before reaching over to pick up the foil packet from earlier and you shiver as he tears it open, squirming in anticipation as he sits back on his feet and pulls out the condom to roll it down his length.

“You still want to do this?” He asks you for what seems like the tenth time that evening, looking at you with soft eyes.

“Mase, what kind of question is that?” You chuckle, hand coming to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch when you brush your thumb over his skin gently, “Of course I do”

“Just double checking, Angel” he rests his forehead against yours, nose nudging your cheek and your heart soars at the softness of the moment.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, Mase. Need you”

You wrap your arms around his shoulder as he settles on top of you, spreading your legs for him to rest between as he finds a position that’s comfortable.

He runs a gentle, comforting hand over the outside of your thigh, using the other to guide himself towards your entrance and you suck in a breath as he lines himself up, his tip nudging against your slit.

Your quick intake of breath has his eyes snapping up to yours, concern etched onto his features. “What wrong, baby?”

“Nothings wrong” you reassure him, one of your hands finding its rightful place tangled in his hair, “It’s just been a while, just go slowly please?”

“We’ll go at your pace, baby. Just tell me if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?”

“Okay”

You reach down, encouraging him to move with a slow twist of your hand over his length and his lips are back on yours when he lines himself up with your entrance, swallowing your moans as he pushes in until only his tip is buried inside of you.

He gives you a few moments to adjust, not liking how you wince from the slight stretch, but you only nod up at him, encouraging him to keep going and you moan in unison when he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. So tight baby” he moans, his raspy voice right next to your ear.

“Let me know when I can move” his thumb brushes in tender circles over your hip, his other hand pressing into the mattress next to your head and you reach for it, unwinding one of your arms from around his shoulders to side your fingers through his.

Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him in a way that has pleasure shooting up his spine and he drops his head into the crook of his neck when you give him the go ahead to start moving.

He keeps his pace slow at first, gauging what you enjoy and what’s comfortable. A slow push and pull of his hips as you learn each others bodies.

“You feel incredible, Angel” he grunts, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips press into you with every thrust.

“Mason, fuck” You scratch your nails over his skin, back arching as he gives one particularly hard thrust that has his tip brushing over your sweet spot, “right there”

“There?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits it again, a desperate moan leaving your lips as he keeps pushing deeper.

“Y-yeah, faster Mase, p-please”

Your stuttered request is barely audible over the sound of your moans but he hears you just fine, picking up his pace as you wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle allows him to hit deeper, finding that sweet spot with every roll of his hips.

Every single thrust feels incredible, his fingers now digging into your waist to hold you steady. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin is all that can be heard as he works you both towards your highs.

“Fuck, Mase, I’m nearly there” you pant, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm and the feeling of him everywhere sending you hurtling towards your realise sooner than you’d expected.

“I’m right behind you, baby” he groans, pulling his head out of your neck when you tug on his hair, wanting to see him when you cum.

He looks ethereal on top of you, the bridge of his nose flushed as well as his cheeks, his hair a mess and falling over his forehead as that chain dangles between you. You reach for it, using it to tug him down and his lips collide with yours in a heated kiss.

“Mason…” you sob, unable to take your eyes off of his when he rests his forehead against yours.

“I know baby, I’ve got you. Let go for me” he encourages, his thumb finding your clit and that’s all you need to go falling over the edge, walls contracting around him as your orgasm hits you.

A wave of white hot pleasure rolls through you, your entire body trembling against him as he works you through it.

He isn’t far behind, pressing his hips to yours as the feeling of your walls fluttering around his length sends him toppling over the edge with a moan of your name.

His thrusts grow sloppy, hips faltering as he thrusts through it, thumb continuing to brush over your clit until you’re pushing his hand away when you get too sensitive.

With one final thrust he goes limp on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, spent from his orgasm. Your hand finds the back of his head, lightly scratching over his scalp as you both take a moment to catch your breaths. Neither of you make any effort to move for a while, Mason staying buried inside of you whilst your heart beats return to a steady pace.

You wince from the sensitivity when he eventually moves to pull out of you slowly, the kisses that he litters over your forehead soothing you before he discards the condom and collapses onto the mattress beside you.

He reaches towards the end of the bed, pulling up the blanket and you don’t hesitate to shuffle into his arms when he opens them for you, settling against his side with your head resting against his chest as he holds you close.

He knows that he should get you cleaned up, but he can’t bring himself to move as you snuggle into him, one arm draped over his waist and a leg hooked over his thighs, so he lets you get comfortable against him, enjoying the warmth of your body pressed into his.

A couple of minuets pass and you stay in a comfortable silence, fiddling with his chain as you rest on his chest, growing more tired by the second as his fingers sooth over your skin. He wishes you could stay like that for the rest of the night, not wanting to disturb you, but when you start to grow heavy against him he knows he needs to get you up before you fall asleep completely.

“Come on” he hums, lightly tapping your shoulder to encourage you to move. “Got to get you cleaned up, bubba”

You don’t make any effort to move, quite content with staying in his arms and not leaving for the foreseeable future.

“I’m tired” You groan as he resorts to gently pushing you off of him, rolling off the bed completely before holding his hands out for you to take, but you bury your face into the pillows and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, missing his warmth immediately.

The bed dips under his weight as he kneels back onto the mattress, hands massaging into your shoulders before rolling you over to face him.

You pout up at him, shaking your head in protest. You know you’ll regret it in the morning if you go straight to sleep without properly getting ready for bed, but nothing sounds better than climbing back under the sheets with him and falling asleep.

“I know, but the quicker we get in that shower the quicker we can get back into bed” he tells you softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as you gaze up at him sleepily. “Let me take care of you, bubs”

His gentle smile and sweet words are enough to have you crumbling, holding your arms out for him and he doesn’t need to ask to understand what you want.

He effortlessly scoops you up, a kiss being pressed to your temple as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through to the en-suite bathroom, careful to avoid the clothes that are still scattered around the floor.

He switches the bathroom lights on, keeping them on the dim setting when he notices you squinting from the brightness and moves to set you down on the counter.

Reaching to the side, he picks up your make up bag, looking through it to find some of your makeup wipes before taking one out of the packet. You try and take it from him but he swats your hand away, tilting your chin up with his fingers before bringing the wipe to your cheek.

Your heart flutters at how gentle he’s being with you as he takes his time, swiping the wipe over your skin as he makes sure to get every last bit of makeup. His little focused face makes you giggle, his tongue popping out from between his lips as he concentrates, being extra careful when he gets to your eyes.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips once he’s finished, throwing the wipe into the bin before turning around to get the shower started and your mouth dries at the sight of his back when he faces away from you.

Red scratches decorate his skin, some travelling as high as his neck and you watch as his back flexes when he reaches for the taps to set the water temperature. You feel yourself heat from head to toe at the sight, struggling to keep your composure when he turns to face you again, instantly noticing your flushed cheeks.

“What’s up, bubba?” He asks, hands coming to rest on your hips as he moves to stand between your spread legs.

“I don’t think you should let anyone else see you shirtless for a couple of days” You tell him, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a giggle.

“Why? What did you do?”

He moves away from you to look at his reflection in the mirror, eye brows furrowing when he doesn’t find any hickeys or marks like he had expected to.

He looks back to you confused, but you wiggle your finger in a circle, telling him to turn around. He does, looking back at his reflection over his shoulder and you can see the moment he realises, his jaw dropping slightly as he takes in the scratches and marks left by your nails.

“You really didn’t hold back did you?”

“Sorry”

“Don’t be. Just means that I made you feel good” he says with confidence, winking at you with a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

You swat at his chest, not needing to admit that he’s right because you both already know the answer.

He holds a hand out for you, helping you off the counter and steadying you when you stand on wobbly legs, your body aching in the best way possible as he guides you towards the shower.

He steps in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and your body slumps into his, face finding a home in the crook of his neck as the water cascades over you.

“You okay?” He mumbles right next to your ear and you nod in response, letting out a content sigh as you nuzzle into his skin.

You stay like that for a while, the water soothing your aching bodies before he reaches over and takes your travel sized shampoo from the little shelf behind you. He squeezes a generous amount into his palm, lathering it up before bringing his hands to your hair and you hold onto his waist, needing something to steady yourself as the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp sends you into a state of complete bliss.

He rinses it out after a couple of minuets - still way too soon for your liking - and repeats the process with your conditioner, letting you do the same thing for him.

As soon as you’re both washed off he gets out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before taking another and holding it out for you. Getting out behind him, you step into the towel, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.

You both get dried off, changing into the fluffy hotel robes before he moves to leave the bathroom, wanting to give you some privacy to finish up your nighttime routine, but you take a hold of his hand, not wanting him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, bubs” he reassures, noticing a faint look of panic on your features. He slides his fingers between yours, giving them a tight squeeze, “I’m just going to tidy the clothes up and grab you something to sleep in okay? I’ll be back in a few minuets”

��Okay, sorry” you mumble, loosening your grip on his hand, feeling silly for getting so paranoid all of a sudden. “I just don’t want you to leave”

His expression softens. “I’m not leaving, Bambi. I promise. Could never leave you”

He presses a series of kisses to your face, one to your forehead, one to your cheek, one of your nose - that one has you giggling - and finally one to your lips, making sure that you’re smiling again when he disappears into the bedroom.

You busy yourself with drying your hair whilst he picks up your abandoned clothes, placing them into a neater pile next to your suitcase so that they can be dealt with in the morning.

He grabs the spare blanket from the wardrobe and puts it on the bed, switching the main lights off so that only the beside lamp is left on before changing into his clean pair of boxers and finding his toothbrush and the t-shirt that he brought with him earlier.

You’re just turning the hair dryer off when he comes back into the bathroom, brushing through your hair as he places his toothbrush next to yours on the counter. The sight of them next to each other has your heart flip-flopping in your chest, the action oddly domestic.

The multiple bottles and pots of skin care products that you have laid out catch his attention when he comes to stand beside you and he picks one up, reading over the bottle curiously.

“What’s all this?”

“You don’t know?” You meet his eyes through the reflection, surprised when he shakes his head in response. But his skin is always so clear?

“Can you show me?” He asks timidly, watching as you nod before jumping up onto the counter again.

You spread your legs, pulling him to step between them and his hands rest against your thighs as you pick up the first bottle, squeezing some of the serum onto your fingers before massaging it into his face. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation of you working the products into his skin, tracing the contours of his face as you tell him what each product is and explain what it’s used for.

He listens to your every word, loving how passionate you seem about it and making a mental note to ask you what they are again in the morning, so that he can buy some of the products for himself and keep some at his house for when you stay over.

You finish up with one of your favourite moisturisers before running through the same routine on yourself, letting Mason help when he insists and enjoying the feeling of being pampered by him.

“Thank you” you mumble, leaning forward to brush your lips over his in a soft kiss and he reciprocates, stepping back to allow you to jump off the counter when you pull away.

“Here, put this on” he says, handing you the t-shirt that he brought in, and you happily change into it, his scent lingering on the fabric and filling your senses as the material falls to your upper thigh.

The sight of you in his clothes is one he wants to see for the rest of his life.

You stand side by side at the sink and brush your teeth together, pulling faces at each other through the mirror as you do before following him back through to the bedroom.

You climb into bed first, getting comfortable under the duvet as he plugs his phone in to charge, begrudgingly setting an alarm for the morning. You both know it’ll be a struggle to wake up, but your flight back up to Manchester leaves at 10am, and you still need to make it to the airport before then.

But that’s a problem for the morning. All you’re concerned about now is holding him.

He settles under the sheets next to you, cuddling into your open arms and sliding you closer with an arm hooked over your waist. Your legs tangle together, bodies pressed close as he snuggles into you, his head finding it’s home in the crook of your neck.

He sighs contentedly, melting into you as you rest a hand on his arm and trace the outlines of his tattoos with your fingertips, his own sneaking under your (his) t-shirt to draw random patterns onto the soft skin of your tummy.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in weeks. The feeling of being in your arms bringing him a sense of comfort that he never thought possible, but he knows you still have something to talk about, and he’s about to bring it up when you beat him to it.

“What does this mean?” You whisper, the question that’s been on your mind for the past half an hour finally slipping through your lips as you raise your free hand and brush your fingers through his hair.

“It means I’m yours Y/N” he mumbles into your skin before pulling his head from your neck. He shuffles up your body slightly, moving so that he’s hovering above you. “If you’ll have me”

Your hand moves from his hair to instead cup his jaw, your fingertips lightly scratching through his beard as you gently pull him down to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

“I like you, like a lot” you tell him when you separate, but you keep him close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders

“I’m way beyond like, baby” He admits, a soft smile tugging at his lips and he knows it’s soon, but his heart feels like it’s bursting, and he can’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m in love with you Y/N, I have been for a long time”

He watches you carefully, waiting for any kind of reaction, and he’s a little worried when you don’t have one, your face staying neutral as his words sink in.

But then comes the smile, your lips tilting up as a look of complete and utter joy paints your features.

You’re overwhelmed by different emotions, cheeks hurting from how wide you’re smiling and you can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his again, stealing his breath away with a searing kiss.

The taste of your minty toothpaste still lingers on his tongue when he pushes it through the seem of your lips, working it against yours in slow, languid strokes as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, his fingers gently tilting your head back and your hand slides around to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

Your chest is heaving when you eventually pull back, looking up up at him through your lashes as you catch your breath. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed and his damp hair messy from you running your fingers through it.

“You don’t have to say it back, I know you might not feel the same but I-“

“Mason, are you kidding me?” You cut him off, cupping his face in both of your palms. “I’m so in love with you”

A breath of relief leaves his parted lips upon hearing your words, his heart rate settling as you look up at him with twinkling eyes.

“I always have been, Mase. You mean absolutely everything to me”

“Yeah?”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding up at him with complete certainty.

“Mason you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve never felt this way before and I know that I won’t feel it for anyone other than you. You’re it for me”

His eyes shine with emotion, his jaw aching from how hard he’s smiling. He feels like he’s floating, your words putting him on cloud nine.

“I love everything about you, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful, but it’s not just that. You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re funny, you make me feel wanted in a way I’ve never experienced before, I’ve waited my whole life for this and now that I have you, I’m never letting you go”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours Masey”

You lean up, pressing your lips to his in one final kiss and when he rolls off of you, you move with him. He lays back against the mattress, arms opening wide for you to climb into and you settle against his chest as he adjusts the duvet over you.

“When we get home I’m taking you on a date” he tells you, and you tilt your head up to look at him. “I know you’re already mine, but I want to do this properly, and that includes you letting me spoil you”

Mine. You want to hear it over and over.

“Can I choose the restaurant?” You query, already making a mental list of places that you could go.

“Only if you let me choose the movie when we get back to mine after”

“Who said that I’ll be going back to yours?”

“Just because it’s our ‘first’ -” he lifts his hand, making air quotes, “ - date that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the gentlemanly thing and drop you home with a kiss to your cheek after”

“Looks like you’re picking the movie then” You pat his chest, giggling as he mumbles a quiet ‘good’ and you settle back onto his arms with a yawn.

He leans over to turn the lamp off, the room overcome with complete darkness as he pulls the blankets up to your chin.

“Get some sleep, bubba. Early start tomorrow” He whispers with a kiss to your forehead and you groan into his chest.

“Don’t remind me. Can’t we just stay here forever?”

That really does sound like the best idea ever. Here. As in the little bubble that you’ve built together in this hotel room. You’re not ready for it to pop.

“I wish we could Bambi, but I want to get home and take you on that date”

“I wonder what Lewis will say” you murmur.

Your families have been rooting you you both to get together for years, so you know he’ll be happy for you, but telling him as well as the rest of your families somehow seems really scary.

“Well, I was thinking-“

“Oh no” you cut him off, and he chuckles, chest rumbling under your cheek.

“How about we keep this to ourselves for a bit?” He suggests, fingers sliding between yours where they lay against his chest. “No one needs to know just yet, we’ll just take it slow and tell them when we’re ready”

“I like the sound of that. Just me and you for a little while”

“Exactly” he sighs, already looking forward to getting you home and exploring this new dynamic with you.

He feels whole as he glances down at you through the darkness, a wide smile painting his lips and he doesn’t think it’ll be leaving any time soon. He’s spent what feels like a life time waiting for this, waiting for his person, waiting for you. He’s not sure he’s ever been happier than he feels in this moment, all of his worries forgotten about as you lay in his arms.

He can just about manage to make out your features and his heart is bursting at the seams with love for you as he leans down to press another kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight, Bambi”

“Night, Mase. Love you”

———————

a/n: If you have made it this far I just want to say a massive THANK YOU! I really do hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻 Feedback is appreciated as always 🤍

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount fic #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount concepts #mason concepts

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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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supernovafics · 11 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

summary: in which a moment at a party that led to a drunken kiss and a heartfelt admission pushes you and your best friend away from each other. after nearly a week of silence, it’s still hard to find the right words to say to steve and to find the right way to mend what feels as if it has been permanently broken. until you’re drunk at a bar and he is the one to come and get you.

warnings: bestfriend!steve, explicit language, underage alcohol consumption, angst with a happy ending<33

author’s note: this was sitting in the drafts for a veryvery long time and i’ve finally decided to let it see the light of day🫶🏾 (full “folklore” album series masterlist here)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bar was comforting in a weird kind of way.

It was pretty dark and empty for the most part, which partly made sense since it was ten o’clock on a random Wednesday night. You didn’t mind the music softly playing and the stool you were sitting on actually felt comfortable, or maybe it was the alcohol making you believe that.

Somehow even with the number of drinks you’d had in the past hour, it still didn’t manage to effectively push your thoughts far away from Steve and what happened at Robin’s birthday party.

You couldn’t not think about the kiss with him, which you had abruptly and drunkenly initiated; it was a kiss that felt simultaneously wrong and right. And his words that followed the kiss played on what felt like an endless loop in your mind too.

“I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted us, for practically forever. Ever since that moment our mom’s forced us to meet at that county fair thing when we were ten, I think I knew it was you.”

It was hard to think about what you did in response to that, but still the quick, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” you managed to stutter out before basically running away from him played on equal loop in your head.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since that Saturday night, with you returning back to your college that was two hours away from Hawkins early the next morning. And you were unsure if it was you leading this dance or if both of you were equally avoiding each other because the phone calls that would happen practically daily were reduced to nothing. It had barely been a week, but it was long enough for everything in your life to feel shifted; to feel a little emptier.

“You look like you need to talk to someone,” The bartender, a woman who you were certain couldn’t be older than thirty, said as she slid you the latest drink you’d ordered.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You trailed off with a small sigh before taking a sip from the cold glass. “I did something stupid this past weekend and I regret it, but I also think it might have been the right thing to do.” You were unsure if you were referring to the kissing Steve part or the running away from him part. “I don’t know, I just wish that entire night hadn’t happened, actually.”

You knew that it wasn’t solely your inebriation that made your words seem as if they didn’t make any sense, because everything going through your head was so damn confusing even when you were completely sober. None of it, the emotions you were feeling or the situation itself, fully made sense to you and you forced yourself to not think about any of it by solely consuming yourself with your schoolwork for the last few days. And when doing that was no longer enough to silence your thoughts, you decided to come to this bar.

It was dumb and probably only making things worse, you knew that, but it also felt so much easier.

“Okay,” The woman said. “Can I have a lot more context?”

You were unsure why you had the immediate urge to tell her everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps because it was just always so easy for anyone to pour their heart out to a stranger.

“My friend— my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were ten— me and him were at a party. It was actually our other friend’s birthday and she just turned eighteen, so of course, we had to make it a huge thing for her, and we did it at Steve’s house; my best friend, that’s his name. Anyway, it’s about two hours into the party and we’re all pretty drunk. Me and Steve are in his backyard sitting on one of his old patio chairs, and then I don’t know why, I blame it on my drunkenness and how close we were in that moment, but I kissed him. I pulled away almost immediately, but then he said that he has wanted this, wanted us, to happen for so long, and I didn’t know what to say to any of that. So, I just mumbled out a stupid “I’m sorry,” and then left.”

You had barely taken a breath as you spoke, spitting out what happened that night in one rushed go. Finally saying all of it out loud— recounting the story in pretty much its entirety— made you feel a little better. Everything was still a complete mess, but you felt like you could breathe the tiniest bit easier.

“Why did you leave?”

A part of you expected her to ask that question, and at this point, you should’ve had an answer to it that felt certain, but you didn’t.

“It just… It felt like the right thing to do, I think.”

The thought of anything more happening with Steve hadn’t ever crossed your mind, at least not consciously, and even now you still refused to think more about it. Because it wasn't just about Steve. You didn’t want anything more with anyone; you didn’t want feelings, a relationship, any of it.

It wasn’t that you hated love or the thought of it, it was more so that you had been burned because of it so many times that you refused to fall into it so easily again. Falling for boys that you thought actually liked you only to be proven wrong and left heartbroken.

“I get it,” The bartender ultimately said, her voice soft. “You guys have been friends for practically forever and if you started dating and then broke up it would probably change everything between you two.”

We would never break up.

The thought hit you so abruptly that it actually managed to surprise you.

The woman looked at you, confused. “Okay… So, then what’s the problem?”

“What?”

“You said that you and him would never break up, so what’s the problem?”

You hadn’t realized you said the thought out loud, and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about accidentally saying it because all you could think about was how completely true it was. You and Steve would work so well together, you pretty much already did. You knew the ins and outs of each other; everything little that was annoying but also so endearing. It was what you loved about him— as a friend and as more.

But still, it was so fucking hard to admit that out loud, and you wanted to forget about the entire realization.

“I– I don’t know,” You finally answered before folding your arms against the countertop and then putting your head down. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that that action would be enough to will away the tears that you could now feel threatening to spill out.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and i ended up here. pouring out my heart to a stranger.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey, you okay?”

The voice was soft and immediately comforting and oh so familiar. It was enough to put a smile on your face, but your head was starting to pound so you couldn’t bear to do anything but groan.

You lifted your head and mumbled out a soft, “Steve?”

You only vaguely remembered the bartender, whose name you eventually learned was Chelsea, asking for a phone number of someone that could pick you up. And although you should’ve given her your roommate’s number, you instead gave her Steve’s.

“I never thought I’d be the one picking you up from a bar,” Steve said as he sat down next to you. “I always thought it would be the other way around.”

“Y’know what they say about college, it changes people,” You told him with a nonchalant shrug. The two of you hadn’t talked in days, but it still felt like second nature to fall back into the joking cadence you had with him. “I’m a total badass now.”

Steve laughed a bit and looked at you amusingly. “Mhm, yeah, sure you are.”

You weren’t as drunk anymore but you were entering the early stages of a hangover that would be a bitch, and you already knew that there was no way you’d be going to your eleven o’clock Statistics class.

“I can’t believe you drove two hours to pick me up,” You said as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car after you paid your pricey tab and goodbyes were said to Chelsea.

Steve offered you a small smile. “What else are best friends for?”

You couldn’t help but look away from him as you mumbled out a soft, “I didn’t know we were still that.”

“We’ll always be that.”

There was so much certainty in his voice that it actually managed to soothe something inside of you. Only for a second, though, because then you were back in your head again.

The drive back to your dorm was quiet with only the soft sounds of the radio to fill the silence. It was a short ride, only about ten minutes, and the entire time you could only focus on your dull headache and what you wanted to say to Steve because you knew that you had to say something. Although you didn’t want to, that night needed to finally be talked about.

When he was parked in front of your building, you still didn’t know exactly what to say, but you decided to start with something. “Listen, about Robin’s party–”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just pretend it never happened,” Steve interrupted you. He pushed a hand through his hair and then met your gaze. “It was really dumb of me to say all of that stuff, and I partially blame it on all the drinks we had— definitely way too many. We’re just friends, I know that. And your life is here now, for the most part, and mine is back in Hawkins, so yeah…” He trailed off with a small shrug.

You suddenly felt nauseous and you knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He was saying everything that you fully thought you wanted to hear— what happened at the party should’ve never happened, you two were just friends— so why did it feel so wrong?

Things became quiet and Steve was looking at you expectantly, and you were unsure how long you’d been silent for.

“Um, yeah, exactly,” You finally said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Before you opened the passenger door to leave his car, you reached over and pulled Steve in for a hug. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” He said as his arms circled around you.

For some reason, there was a huge part of you that wanted to say “I’m sorry” in that moment, but you didn’t entirely know why, so instead you said nothing and simply got out of his car.

You headed to the entrance of your dorm building and then turned around, giving Steve a final wave before he drove away.

It was then— as he headed down the street and after a few moments his car became completely out of your view— that you wished you’d been honest; with yourself and with him.

Because it was in that moment of you yearning for him to turn around mixed with you sincerely wanting to go after him that essentially sealed it for you.

Steve was different and he always would be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt slightly lucky that you only had two classes on Thursdays because when you woke up after sleeping through your Statistics class, you knew that you wouldn’t be going to your Psychology class that started at three. And the reasoning actually had nothing to do with your hangover.

Aside from the slight headache, you woke up with your mind feeling completely clear for the first time in a long time. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you wanted to do, and before that feeling could go away, or you could convince yourself to push it away, you were in your car an hour before your class was supposed to start and driving to Hawkins. You were pretty much running off of impulse and hope.

The weather was terrible and you hated driving in the rain, but it didn’t matter to you right then because you needed to see Steve.

You had two long hours of driving in terrible rain to figure out what exactly you wanted to say to him, yet you still couldn’t form a coherent set of sentences in your head. But, similar to the rain, that didn’t stop you from ringing his doorbell.

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been smart to bring an umbrella because it was still pouring and from the short walk from your car to his front door, your clothes managed to become effectively soaked, but it didn’t bother you.

“Hey,” He said when he opened the door, it was easy to tell that he was surprised to see you. “Did you drive all the way here?”

You quickly nodded at his question. “Yes.”

“You hate driving in rain.”

“Yeah, but I… I just really wanted to talk to you, and didn’t wanna do it over the phone.”

“Come inside,” Steve said, pushing the door open wider so that you could step in.

You almost followed him but then stopped. “No, wait… I kinda just wanna say this here.”

Steve looked at you confused, but ultimately nodded. “Okay.” He then stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him; his clothes immediately got wet. “It feels wrong that you’re the only one getting hit by the rain.”

You laughed a bit. “Thank you. That’s very considerate.”

Things got quiet for a second and you suddenly felt nervous, but you pushed that feeling to the side.

“I know you said that we don’t need to talk about the party and we should pretend that it never happened. And although that’s exactly what I’d been doing for the past few days, I don’t wanna do that anymore.” It actually didn’t feel too hard to let all of this out; verbalizing exactly what had been going on in your head. In a way, it felt like a relief. “I think I kissed you that night because deep down I know that it’s you too. And that it’s always been you… Which is actually so scary to think about because we’ve known each other for so long and you’re the one person in my life that has been the biggest constant. You’ve seen every part of my very horrific love life and I don’t want us to end up like any of the stupid relationships I had before, and I think that’s why I ran away that night, which I do really regret.” You pulled your eyes away from his for a second. “But, what we have is different, and I want to try. I want us to try.”

You let out a long breath. “Okay, that’s it.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few moments, and it was then that you realized how loud the rain was, and somehow it was actually a bit calming to hear the sounds of the heavy drops hitting the ground.

You searched his eyes to see if you could decipher what he was thinking, but before you could get a clear read on anything, he was closing the small bit of distance between you both and reaching up to cup your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you.

The abruptness of the action slightly startled you, but you were completely okay with this nonverbal response to you pouring your heart out. You were kissing him back almost immediately and suddenly the sound of the rain was gone and instead all you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The kiss felt perfectly new but also so insanely familiar; even though this was the first time this was happening sober. And so many things were running through your mind, but it was also effectively blank and you knew you wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried.

Most of all, though, everything happening right then— the way your hands fisted themselves in his rain soaked t-shirt to pull him impossibly closer to you, and how his thumb stroked your cheek so tenderly— it all felt so certain and sure and right; there wasn’t an ounce of doubt lingering in the air around you both or lacing its way within the kiss.

When you pulled away to catch your breath and smiled up at him, a smile that Steve immediately matched with an elated grin of his own, it slightly killed you that all of this hadn't happened sooner.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington

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alexiroflife · 1 month

Note

hii!! i recently read your ‘Five more minutes?’ story with Choso and am absolutely in love with it, i’ve read it a million times already! i’m so so sorry to ask but are there any plans for a part 2?

thank you so much, and again i’m sorry for asking! take care! 🫶

"beyond that"

"five more minutes": part 2, college au, mutual pining, FLUFF

choso kamo x writing tutor!reader

Synopsis: you and choso, now having been studying with each other for weeks, battle the development of your "little" crushes on one another

to sum it up: at this point, tutoring is the last thing on either of your minds

WC: 4,673

Warning(s): noneeeee, just fluff everywhere

Choso, admittedly, is incredibly nervous.

He doesn't know why after weeks of visiting you as his writing tutor, you have managed to have this affect on him - yet, nevertheless, his heart is pounding and his palms are sweating as he makes his way over to your now usual spot at the library, just outside the school cafe which is attached to the quiet building.

He goes through this every time he has a meeting with you. The two of you will shoot a few texts back and forth about your upcoming meeting time, the brunette would anticipate the day all week until it finally comes and his nerves are eating him alive, his face will burst into flames and his mind will drag him through every possible outcome that could turn out poorly in your presence to make him appear less favorable in your eyes, and then he'd see your face, watch you smile kindly in greeting at him, and all of is anxieties would melt away in an instant.

You have a comforting air about you, though you continue to work his nerves like crazy. While you are beautiful enough to strip the air from his lungs when he lays eyes on you and you are so humbly intelligent that it makes his head spin on his neck, you soothe him with your approach, with your voice, with your gentle advice and teachings that have helped elevate his writing skills immensely, more so than they had developed over the four years he had been attending this school.

As intimidating as you are physically, you bring Choso peace in a subject that has always aroused such stress in his life, and he is so grateful, so baffled by this magical skill that you have that he continues to return to you for more.

He did not mean to develop the crush on you that he harbors now, but how could he not? You are a breath of fresh air, a glimmer of sunlight in a world he previously deemed to be drab and dull. You're light, and fun, and down to earth, and helpful, and unintentionally charming in an adorably shy, giddy way and it makes the violet-eyed man's knees wobble and his throat run dry every time you giggle softly to ease your apprehension in his presence.

Choso loves your tutoring sessions so much, he never wishes them to end. He feels that the hour he now has carved out with you is hardly enough time, and he needs more of you - more of your face, more of your gentle voice speaking directly to him, more of your bright (e/c) eyes that soak up every ray of light that beams into your rented study room, more of the press of your lips together as you smile warmly and fully up at him when he catches on to something you taught, more of your pretty fingers grasping a pen and scribbling over his work, more of the little smiley faces you have begun to doodle onto his drafts alongside your notes.

Choso wants more of you, all of you, but he does not know how to get you. He hardly sees you outside of your sessions, and when he does, its in brief passing and you are too far away to take notice of him catching sight of you. He tries to extend your text conversations when scheduling, but they never go much further than a repetitive expression of thanks for your help or a short inquiry about how your day has been.

You're eating him alive in his mind, and it is driving him crazy. He has no idea what to do with this little obsession he has developed over you except to cling to every second he spends next to you in the library as you work through each and every aspect of his project and then some. Choso finds he has even begun to tune out when you speak to him, his thoughts so entranced by thoughts of you that he is too busy ogling over the new color you have painted over your nails, or the scent that clings to your skin, or the pattern of the skirt that you decided to wear to your meeting with him.

And you, just as smitten with your tutee, feel yourself reverting back to a bumbling schoolgirl mentality when you see him. You're always grinning ear to ear when you catch wind of Choso walking through the door and toward you, his lips curving into a soft smile when he sees you in return. And when you are tutoring him, you pay far too close attention to how far away his hand is from yours when you write over his paper, how the quick brush of your palms sparks your body to life and has you nibbling down on the inside of your lip to suppress a smile.

You like Choso. You like the way he thinks, the way he works, how lowly he speaks as though he is constantly tired, and yet how sprinkles of passion flutter their way into his speech when he discusses his research findings or other unrelated topics like his younger brother. You like the way he sits in his chair next to you, first slouching back with his legs sprawled before him before hunching forward with loose fists to the surface of the table, one leg stretched out while the other bends at the knee under the table. You like the way he focuses, the way his gorgeous lavender eyes flitter over the paper as the two of you work, then up at you when he believes that you are not paying attention, holding the image of your face until you peek up and he's snapping his eyes away as though he has been staring ahead the entire time.

God, you like how he surprises you with his warmth and generosity, his knowledge and selflessness. You like how he looks to the world with curiosity, with a clear goal, and how he acts better than he can form words - you think it proves his genuine spirit, his honesty.

You like damn near everything about him, except for when he has to leave, and he fails to ask to see you outside of an academic setting when he stands before you and stares, stammering whatever he says about having enjoyed the time you've given him. You hate when you have to watch him walk away from you, and how you have to wait another week until you see him again.

You wonder if you have deluded yourself into believing that he could return any form of attraction to you. You catch him staring at you all the time, and you see the bubble of his iMessage pending and disappearing frequently as though he is attempting to think of a way to talk to you but second-guessing so. You think the two of you have good conversations even outside of school-related topics when you are together, and you think he enjoys your company, but he never acts on it. Could it be that you are reading into things? You are his tutor after all. He could be simply behaving respectfully or showing you basic human decency by being kind. You're not sure, but one thing you do know is that you're tired of only getting to see him once a week.

You figure it does not matter when you see that familiar head of brown hair making its way past the cafe and toward the study room on the far left that the two of you have been reserving for the past few weeks. You brighten instantly and give a small wave when Choso's face comes into view. His eyes find yours through the glass and he smiles, waving in turn with rosy cheeks.

"Hi, Cho!" you greet chirpily. Choso's feet almost trip over themselves as he opens the door and walks in, the nickname you have taken to referring to him by still new on his ears, as it makes his heart skip a beat.

"H-Hey," he clears his throat, throwing his bag to the floor and taking a seat next to you. "How are you?"

"I'm good," you smile widely. "I like your outfit."

The brunette looks down at his choice of clothing, an oversized Rise Against hoodie and tattered baggy jeans. "Oh, thanks," he mumbles, looking back up at you. "You listen to Rise Against?"

"No," you admit sheepishly. "I just like the way those colors on you."

"Really? It's just black."

You point to the splashes of yellow and red in the graphic detailing. "Yeah, but the yellow brings out your eyes," you say rather casually, and the tips of Choso's ears burn at the compliment.

"Thank you..." he mumbles, averting his gaze and scratching the back of his neck. "I... um... I like your nails today."

Your brows shoot up as you glance down at your freshly done manicure. "I just got them done yesterday! You noticed they're different?" you smile and he nods slowly.

"Yeah... they had been red for a while. I like the change," he admits before his eyes widen slightly and he looks at you in a panic. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound creepy-"

"You don't," you chuckle. "It's actually really sweet of you to notice. Thank you," you flash him that jaw-dropping grin and Choso swallows hard with an awkward nod and a wobbly smile.

"Sure."

You look down, tapping your hands against the table to ride yourself of the antsiness bubbling inside you. Choso watches the action softly, musing internally at how cute he finds you to be.

"Okay, so how's your paper coming?"

"Pretty good," the brunette eventually responds as he fishes for the said paper in his bag. "My professor's actually been saying that I've made a lot of progress with my writing," he sets the heavily marked paper onto the table along with his computer, which holds a fresh coy he has been working on.

"Really?" you ask excitedly. Diamond eyes shoot to you swiftly out of the corner of his eye as he hums gently in affirmation. "That's amazing, Cho! You should be so proud of how far you've come."

"I'm not all there yet," he emphasizes as the color swirls over his pale cheeks once more. "Even so, I'm only getting better 'cause of you. You're the one helping me out."

"Well, yeah, I'm giving you direction, but you're making the improvements all on your own," you playfully nudge his shoulder, and he topples loosely to the side. You try your best not to allow the bulk of muscle you feel beneath his sleeve to affect you more than it already is as you retract your hand and straighten yourself. "Seriously, you've been doing a great job."

"It's... the bare minimum honestly," he brushes off your compliments, unable to take them on properly without the gears in his head malfunctioning.

"You're so humble," you shake your head.

"I just don't think there's anything to really brag about, that's all," the brown-haired boy chuckles stiffly and you sigh.

"Well, just know as your tutor, I'm proud of you," you say gently, tugging the stack of papers over to your side with the stretch of your arm past Choso's frame.

The purple-eyed senior perks up slightly, blown pupils turning to focus on you as your previous words drill themselves into his brain. You're proud of him? Of him of all people? Hell, he thinks the praise alone from you is going to make him spontaneously combust though you move on as though you have not said anything special.

The session proceeds as normal. Choso shows you the updates he has made in his paper, and you look over his shoulder at the computer screen as he speaks lowly, explaining what you are reading as your eyes skim. At one point, you ask him if you can scroll through the document yourself, and he allows you. He leans back in his chair as you push yourself forward and press yourself to the edge of the table. In doing so, you push into his personal bubble, leaning over his frame so that the top of your head is just below his chin. The brunette's eyes widen as your sugary scent invades his senses, your perfectly manicured finger swiping over the cursor as you mutter his words under your breath with concentration.

Choso feels himself hold his breath within your closeness, blood flooding throughout his body rather aggressively. You have such a strange effect on his body, rendering him weak by simply hovering a few centimeters away and it kills him. He has to fight the urge to lean down and sniff your hair, to run his palm over your hand as you swipe through his computer familiarly, to press his lips to your temple or the exposed skin of your neck as you crane it downward with your free hand pushing into your cheek to support your head.

You're so pretty, so perfect it hurts. He wants you so badly, but he has no idea how to say it- how to get your attention. Do pretty, preppy girls like you even want his attention? Do you think yourself above him though you have made him feel so comfortable, so equal to your intellectual level over the past month or so? Do you think he's pretty the way he thinks you're pretty? Do you stay up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling with thoughts of his face wandering your mind the way yours does his? Do you think about him like that at all, or are you just his tutor?

Choso breathes in sharply, watching as you pull away to sit upright in your seat again. He watches you speak, the way your slightly glossed lips move to echo a muffled phrase, but somehow his ears are ringing. The sight of you is so loud, so powerful that it overpowers the sound as it travels to his ears and sends signals to his brain. His eyes are still as he looks at you, somewhat dumbfounded, until he’s snapping himself out of it when your voice finally comes back into focus more clearly.

“Choso?” you call his name again, and he hears you this time. His shoulders jump slightly and he blinks.

“Huh?”

You furrow your brows with a small laugh. “Did you hear what I said? Are you okay?”

Just then, Choso can feel his body burst into flames when he realizes that he had just sat and stared at you while you spoke for far too long. “S-Sorry. I’m sorry,” he apologizes profusely, thoroughly embarrassed. He shifts in his seat, a habit you notice he takes to often when he’s on the spot. “I spaced out for a second. What did you say?”

You look at him for a moment longer than you should have as he fights desperately to look anywhere but into your eyes. He inhales and exhales slowly, deeply, as if he is trying to regulate himself, and you try your best not to look like you’re enjoying the sight.

With your teeth sinking into your bottom lip and the corners of your lips twirling upward, you prepare to repeat yourself. “I was just saying that your sentence structure has gotten a lot better… I like what you did especially in the third paragraph."

The purple-eyed man's nose flares subtly. "Oh. Okay," he murmurs, voice dipping lower and lower. "I mean- yeah, I was trying to do something different there... where I transition to talking about the human body as a whole."

"I can see that," you nod, tucking your hands into your lap after tilting his computer back toward him. "I think it flows better. Just make sure you watch your grammar in some spaces too. There should be a comma after that one phrase," you nod to the screen and Choso is quick to turn his head to what you are referring to.

You watch from the side as his jaw clenches and unclenches when he finds his error and hastily clicks to fix it. He's so gorgeous, you think to yourself as you admire the structure of his sharp jaw and the veins running down the side of his neck and into the beginnings of those tattoos that seem to tease themselves to you whenever you're with the bio major.

And oh, do baggy clothes look absolutely amazing on Choso's body. While you're sure he'd look even better with clothes that snugly fit his form, you find his laid-back style to suit him astonishingly well. You like the way his hoodie drapes over his shoulders, the sleeves cupping loosely around large, well-sculpted hands. You especially love how his dark eyeliner accentuates the vibrancy of his irises and blends into the complementation of the rest of his clothes. Choso dresses so well, so uniquely, and you are fascinated by it. You're fascinated by him.

"Alright, anything else? Do you want to look at the most recent section?" Choso turns to ask you but pauses when he finds that you are already looking at him. The two of you blink at each other, and you almost think that Choso is shocked to make eye contact with you again so suddenly. "What's wrong? What... what is it?" he asks, unsure of what you are doing, unsure of himself.

You shrug your shoulders tightly to your ears and look down with a gasy smile. "Ah, nothing," you hiss, pursing your lips. "Sorry, you're just a little distracting sometimes."

His face falls as he tilts his head slightly in genuine confusion. Has he offended you somehow? "Me?" he points to himself slowly and you nod with a tight smile and warm cheeks. "Uh- sorry, I don't mean to... distract you," he says carefully, regretfully, genuinely. "I didn't know I was doing anything to be distracting."

"No, no, you're not," you giggle to yourself and swipe a hand over your heated face with a heavy exhale. "Sorry, it's nothing like that. You didn't do anything wrong."

"...Then what did I do?"

"Nothing," you reiterate as you pick at the hem of your shirt. "You're... nice to look at, that's all," you confess timidly.

Choso can feel his heart plunge into his chest and his pupils shrink slightly when he takes in what you said. For a moment, he thinks he imagined it, but by the way you are fiddling with your clothes and keeping your eyes down suddenly allows him to deduct that perhaps he heard you correctly the first time.

"You think I'm nice to look at?" he asks carefully for clarification and your face tightens along with your nod.

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything," you quickly say. "I just figured you were wondering why I was staring at you. I do that a lot, anyway... sorry, this is really awkward. I probably shouldn't have said that."

"No," Chose rushes, and you look back up to see those beautifully pinked cheeks and big eyes again. "No, please, don't- don't take it back," he requests gently, turning to face you in his chair. "No one's ever said that to me before."

You suddenly shoot your head up, staring at him incredulously. "What? Are you serious?" Choso nods in confirmation and you gape. "But look at you! You're beautiful!"

The boy's lips spread into a thin line as more color blossoms over his face. He feels that familiar dampness drip over his palms as he fidgets, looking to you meekly as though you have just bent down on one knee and proposed.

“Beautiful?” he tests the word on his tongue, brows drawing together.

“Yeah… I can’t believe no one’s ever told you that before. You have really good bone structure, and your eyes are… pretty,” you scrunch your nose. “I-I’m only being honest. I thought… anyone could see that, really.”

Choso shakes his head. “Not really. I think you’re the first.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me at all.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me that you think I’m beautiful,” Choso chuckles slightly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he shoots out. “And to be considered on the same level as you is… I never would have thought that.”

Your lips part in shock, your hand immediately flying to conceal your lips as another stupid smile makes its way onto your face. Choso, in turn, angles his brows as though he is angry with himself for allowing his feelings to slip so freely. He cringes softly, berating himself, as his fingers slip into the back of his hair to scratch anxiously at his scalp.

“I’m getting ahead of myself, sorry-“

“You apologize too much,” you beam beneath your palm.

Choso looks over at you, normally so laid back but now with a tortured expression. “I know,” he admits. “But so do you.”

You go to retort but find that you can not, for you have to give him credit for how much he has noticed about you. “Let’s- get back to your essay,” you clap your hands suddenly, blinking rapidly as you pull yourself closer to the table to shove your nose into a page that you have already read a hundred times over.

Choso watches you for a second before a smile crosses his lips. He ducks his head down, dimples prodding into his cheeks as he revels in the moment the two of you just shared and the way you are so hastily trying to keep yourself together. It’s cute. You’re so cute.

The time flies by just as quickly as it always does during your tutoring sessions, and before you know it, your session is over and the time you rented out for the study room has ran out.

The two of you routinely attempt to mask your disappointment as you pack your belongings in tension-fueled silence, flashing shy smiles whilst gathering your things side by side.

Choso jumps to hold the door for you as you walk out, to which you thank him with a bright grin. The two of you venture out of the library together, outdoors and onto the steps leading up to the building.

You sigh, brushing a piece of your hair back as the breeze waves over you. “I guess I’ll see you again next week?”

You look up and Choso is staring down at you with a hum, clutching the strap of his satchel bag tightly. “…Guess so.”

“Alright,” you nod stiffly. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay.”

You stand there, looking at each other for a bit longer before you give in and nod again. “Okay. Bye, Cho.”

You move to start heading into the direction of your dorm when the brunette steps forward abruptly. “(Y/n), wait,” he stops you, and you pause.

You swiftly turn back around, eager to stay. “Yeah?”

“I… uh,” he stammers, eyes darting over your face nervously. He leans back and forth on his shoes, unsure of how to proceed yet knowing that there is something more he wants to say. “I really- I appreciate… no, I really like our tutoring sessions together.”

You smile warmly, folding your hands before you. “I like our sessions too. I’ve told you that before. I think you’re a great mentee.”

He gulps. “Yeah. I think you’re a great teacher… but, I mean I like… I like our sessions beyond just working.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I guess… what I’m trying to say is that I like spending time with you.”

You feel your heart in your ears and your cheeks aching from how hard you’re smiling. “I also like spending time with you.”

He perks up. “As more than my tutor?”

You laugh softly with an enthusiastic nod. “As more than your tutor, yes,” you affirm. “I think you’re really cool. And I meant what I said earlier about you being attractive.”

A swift breath of relief escaped Choso as he looks down with a gentle smirk, cheeks pinkening. You think it’s endearing to watch such an intimidating-looking man crumble so easily before you like a toddler picking a flower for his playground crush.

“Cool,” he chuckles, picking at the belt buckle of his bag strap. “You’re pretty too. Like, really pretty. You’re gorgeous.”

“You said that earlier,” you tease, and flames further ignite the poor boy’s face.

“I-I know. I thought I’d just say it again… I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I’m not too good at this kinda stuff.”

“You’re doing a great job, Cho. Keep going,” you encourage, biting into your lip.

The twenty one year old’s eyes flicker to the sight before they snap back up to you. “Okay,” he exhales. “I don’t wanna just see you once a week.”

You nod. “Me neither.”

“…I wanna see you more than that.”

“So do I.”

“Would it… be cool with you if I asked to hang out with you sometime? Maybe tomorrow…? We could go grab some food together… I- I have my car. I’d take you.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Choso’s brows lift as he looks at you, your expression expecting and welcoming to his advances. You’re swaying back and forth as he somewhat does the same, one hand digging harshly into his pocket while the other that grips the strap of his bag tightens. “…Do you want it to be a date?” he asks slowly. “It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it. I mean, we can just go as friends.”

“Choso.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“…Oh,” he stills. “Then…?”

Your head tosses back as you laugh loudly, the skin beneath your glimmering eyes creasing. “I want to be more than that with you. Please ask me out on a date.”

Choso feels a weight lift from his shoulders as he slumps with relief. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you giggle. “Go ahead.”

The brunette shakes his head and rubs a hand over his warm face, biting back his own smile. He looks back up at you to meet your twinkling (e/c) gaze, heartbeat in his throat. “Will you go to lunch with me tomorrow? As more than friends?”

You bounce on the soles of your feet, shoulders raising to your ears again as you lean giddily to the side. “I’d love to.”

A grin breaks onto Choso’s face as he takes you in. “Okay. Good, I’m glad. I can pick you up at 12?”

“That’s perfect. I’ll text you what dorm I’m in tonight.”

“Okay,” he nods happily.

“Okay,” you grin.

“…So I’ll see you later? Or, sorry, tomorrow?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” he repeats, and you laugh again.

“Okay.”

“Sorry,” he scrunched his face. “You make me nervous. I’m sorry if I’m- sorry.”

You roll your eyes, stepping into him. He watches your movements carefully, slightly confused, before he feels your palm press to the side of his face. His eyes go wide when you tilt up and lean in, pressing your soft lips to his cheek in a quick, sweet peck. His body freezes, his blood pumping through his heart vigorously as you lean away and lower your hand with a cheeky smile.

“Stop apologizing,” you advise and he nods instantly.

“Okay,” he obliges, dazed.

With another soft giggle, you turn on your heel to part ways. “Good job today, Cho. I'm excited for our date tomorrow.”

“T-Thanks,” he mutters. “Me too.”

You flash him one more smile before turning and walking off. Choso’s eyes glue to your fading figure, his fingers grazing the space in which your lips touched his skin with awe.

He does not miss the way you turn over your shoulder as you walk away to give him one last wave, and he returns it eagerly, his heart fluttering and head disappearing into the clouds, rendering himself a dumb mess by the likes of you.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x reader fluff #kamo choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso fluff #jjk au #jjk au x reader

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lexirosewrites · 1 month

Text

it’s my two year Steddie-versary today?!!!

(which means I’m gonna ramble emotionally for a little bit)💛

I’m not really sure how to fully describe the last two years of my life and my involvement in the steddie fandom, but I’ll try!

I remember watching season four of ST and really liking Eddie, thinking he was so cool. I’d always liked Steve, but putting them together was a whole different story. And then I recall seeing fanart, finding a couple fics here and there.

I wasn’t aware how deep I’d gotten until I was drafting a fic of my own, eager to join the fun any way that I could. It had been years since I’d written anything of my own, but I was lonely and bored enough to try.

I drafted my first fic “All Through The Night” for a month.

I wrote it. Rewrote it. Edited it. Doubted whether it should stay in the drafts. Finally, I just hit post.

From there, it kept going. I’d write a few non-omegaverse fics based on TikTok prompts. Then, I’d end up delving into the omegaverse trope in a way I never had before.

I started to remember how much I enjoyed writing and I found a community that was kind to me. I made friends in the AO3 comments of all places!

It was a few months before I joined ST twitter in December of 2022, but I was encouraged to hang out and make more friends.

(I don’t need to rehash the bad parts of my experience because I think we’re all pretty aware of what happened. But I don’t want those things to define me or spoil all the good that’s come from this fandom either. Bullies don’t get to take this from me.

I wasn’t super active on Tumblr prior to my Twitter leave because I didn’t really understand the app😅 we figured it out eventually and I am so grateful to have been welcomed here when I was feeling so low.)

I figured out a lot about myself in this fandom! I identified as a cis, bi-questioning woman when I started writing!! That’s insane to me now!

But I found a place to explore and meet other queer people and ask questions that I would’ve never asked!

I was leading worship at a mega church when I posted my first fic. I was freshly separated from my ex-husband and still hurting immensely. I was working through a pandemic as a nurse and hating my life. I didn’t have much that brought me joy anymore.

This silly gay ship probably saved my life…

And I know I’ve been semi-MIA as far as posting to AO3 the last several months, but I have no intentions of leaving this fandom anytime soon. I will not abandon my fics or disappear. I just need a little bit of a break because I burnt myself out on writing for a year and a half!

God this post went way too long. Oops.

Okay! In summary! Today is my two year Steddie-versary and I love you all!!! I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made and the support I’ve had to share my stories.

(also tbh I cannot believe I tricked this many of you into reading mpreg)

#lexirose rambles as much as they write #steddie

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sissyisawitch · 2 months

Text

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Relationship: Ominis Gaunt x You

Summary: Even though the two of you are not on good terms after a certain event, you and Ominis decide to go and explore Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium in order to help Sebastian. But you know what they say, danger helps to reconcile… but also to bring out the truth. Alternative : My take on the Scriptorium incident.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author's Note: Hi! It's been a while... I haven't had much time for myself lately, so I've put writing aside. But summer's here, so I took the opportunity to finish this draft that I've had for far too long. And what better way to come back than with some Ominis fluff? Enjoy!🌞

Warnings: Major spoilers for the "In the Shadow of the Study" quest

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you.’”

You felt a wrench in your heart as you read those few words written by Shakespeare. It was astonishing how a few drops of ink on the page of a book, a simple garland of lines and curls drawn in different directions, could trigger disproportionate reactions. Did everyone else feel the same way, or was it just that you were too sensitive?

Or perhaps it was simply that these damn love stories reminded you that you had not had the right to your own, that the boy to whom you had offered your heart had given it back to you completely mutilated?

Another wrench in your heart.

‘It’s simple and concise for a declaration of love… but at least she had the right to one, and one that had the merit of being clear and direct to boot’, you could not help thinking as you reread your book.

Time had passed, but you still felt it all. The disappointment, the humiliation, the resentment that came with the sensation of having had your feelings played with, the hatred you felt towards yourself for having let yourself be fooled, not to mention the torrents of tears you had shed. But the most devastating feeling was undoubtedly the despair you felt when you remembered that you had absolutely ruined everything with one of the most important people in your life.

Ominis… Sweet, caring, beautiful Ominis… Your best and closest friend. And to think that three little words of love spoken a couple of weeks ago – the same ones you had just read – had been enough to destroy the strong bond between you two.

Once again, it was astonishing how a series of letters, a succession of various sounds, could trigger such a disproportionate reaction and write over months of shared moments of laughter, of little attentions to one another.

“So!”

You abruptly lifted your head from your book – which you were only skimming through – after Sebastian abruptly dropped down next to you on the sofa in the common room.

“Still moping around?”

“Nah, I’m in tip-top form, can’t you see?” You deadpanned, your voice brimming with irony.

“My, my. No need for the attitude.” Sebastian smirked at your feisty character.

Sebastian had got used pretty quickly to this new dynamic. He would have breakfast with you because you were both late risers. During the day, he would sit next to either you or Ominis depending on the class, making sure to maintain an equity. For example, he would sit with you in Defence Against the Dark Arts because he loved duelling you, and he would sit with Ominis in Potions so that he could help him. As for the evening, he would have dinner with Ominis, and then come back to see you once the blond had gone to bed.

In fact, without even exchanging a single word, you and Ominis had concocted a shared custody schedule of your best friend.

Sebastian continued, entirely oblivious to your reveries, “Anyway, I’ve got something to take your mind off things!”

You could not hold back the sigh that left your lips, “Another brilliant idea of yours, I presume?”

“And your presumptions couldn’t be more right.”

Sebastian proudly explained his latest discovery, that Salazar Slytherin had a secret Scriptorium here at Hogwarts. He was evidently determined to explore it, insisting that it might hold answers as to how to heal Anne.

So far, it seemed to be just another of Sebastian’s plans…

“…The only problem is that only a Gaunt knows where the entrance is… So we have to ask Ominis.”

You raised a dubious eyebrow at him, “This… is your brilliant idea to take my mind off things?”

“Oh, come on! It’s important to me! And if you don’t want to do it for me, then do it for Anne! You can tolerate his presence for a few minutes, can’t you?”

As you looked down and pinched the bridge of your nose, another sigh escaped you. It was becoming an unfortunate habit when you were around Sebastian.

You sighed once more, this time in capitulation, “Okay… I’m in.”

When a beaming smile started to tug at the corners of his lips, you immediately interrupted him with a menacing finger pointed at his chest.

“But! You do the talking. The less I talk to him, the better I feel.”

“Deal.” He replied with a mysterious glint in his gaze. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I’ll lead you to him.”

“What? Now?” You exclaimed with wide eyes. It had to be said that you had no desire to go, and that postponing the fateful moment until as late as possible sounded fabulous at the moment.

“Of course, now! Do you really want to do this in broad daylight and get busted by the teachers?”

“When you put it like that… Let’s go.” Without wasting another second, you got up from the sofa with a newfound determination that you had not suspected, but which Sebastian always knew how to awaken using the right words.

After climbing the spiral staircase leading out of the common room, Sebastian led you – if not dragged you – through various corridors of the castle which you were not used to venturing into, and which were very rarely frequented.

If you were reluctantly following, the boy accompanying you was as cheerful as could be. You could tell by the way he moved with haste, his steps almost bouncing. He looked like a young child who had just had one of his whims indulged (and, in a way, he had).

Sebastian suddenly stopped in his tracks and nodded his head towards Ominis who was standing on the other end of the corridor, “Go on, go convince him.”

You turned sharply towards him, giving him a disapproving look, “You said you’d do the talking!”

“Exactly, the talking, which I already did, and it didn’t work. So now, you go do the convincing.”

“Sneaky bastard.” You muttered under your breath, sending him one last murderous glare.

As you approached the mysterious blond, you could not help but analyse him from head to toe. His silky hair was as well-brushed as ever, giving him his typical elegance. He was leaning against a wall, the features of his face impassive, making you wonder what could be going on in that impenetrable, but undoubtedly fascinating, mind of his. Merlin, everything about him was so adorable…

Fuck. You could not go on thinking like that. You had to move on from him, even if it was going to take a colossal effort.

But… that did not mean you had to stop watching him categorically. No, you could continue to observe banal things about him, like the way he suddenly took a deep breath before his shoulders relaxed, while you were only a few steps away from him.

Before you could announce your presence, Ominis called your name.

“U-Um yes, hi… How… How did you know it was me?” You stammered awkwardly, still mentally unprepared to start a conversation with Ominis.

“Your perfume. I’ve got used to it. I could recognise it in a million.” He declared easily, as if it were the most banal thing to say to someone you had recently rejected.

“Oh…”

Upon hearing your long and awkward silence, his serene and composed appearance was quickly overwritten with his own discomfort, “Listen, about last time… I wanted you to know that I sincerely apologise. I should not have avoided you for so long and–”

“Let’s not talk about this, alright?” You cut him short, physically pained just by the memory of your last conversation. “I just want to forget this ever happened… Besides, that’s not what I came to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening.”

It did not take long to convince him to reveal the location of Salazar Slytherin’s secret room, just a few minutes at the most. After all, you knew Ominis like the back of your hand, so it was child’s play to find the words he needed to hear.

But that didn’t mean you kept talking to him afterwards.

Once you entered the Scriptorium, you did not utter a single word. Your demeanour, which had been warm and understanding a few minutes earlier, was now nowhere to be seen. Seeing you acting so silent, cold and detached, Ominis must certainly have thought you were unrecognisable. If that was the case, he did not show it. On the contrary, he was always trying to get as close to you as possible, all the while scratching the back of his neck, or running a hand through his hair nervously, as if he wanted to start a conversation but did not dare. For some reason that eluded you, he also insisted that you stay behind him whenever you entered a new room.

The only thing you knew for sure was that he was desperate to reweave the invisible string between the two of you that had been the source of your formerly close friendship. But there was a problem… it was still too early and too painful for you to mend it on your end.

So you simply solved the various challenges you came across, and eventually silently handed the letters you found from Noctua to Ominis, so that he could read them for himself with his wand (admittedly, you wanted to avoid him, but you still had enough compassion left to give him what was left of his late aunt). Meanwhile, you let Sebastian do the talking to lighten the mood (he had kept his promise after all). Everything was going well so far.

That is… until you entered a new room, and the stone door slammed shut behind you three, producing a loud crash that bounced off the walls.

“Merlin!” You cried out in fear.

“Yeah, I think we’re locked in.” Sebastian agreed nonchalantly.

“No! Merlin!” You repeated in panic but, this time, pointing at something on the ground with a trembling finger.

Sebastian looked down, and quietly gasped before holding his breath. Never in a million years would you have imagined that you would stumble across bones, and therefore be confronted with the fact that someone had died right in this very spot.

It was only then that you realised that the three of you were potentially next in line, that there was a possibility you might never get out of this room. At this morbid realisation, you froze entirely. You were unable to move, to think, to speak. It was impossible for you to react. It was as if, in a panic, your body had already accepted its fate and was getting used to the fact that, soon, it would no longer respond to anything.

The silence in the room lasted a second too long, and Ominis too began to panic, “Well, what is it?”

“…A skeleton.” Sebastian said coldly, although the grimace on his face betrayed him and showed that he too was in turmoil. “And Noctua’s last journal entry. She mentions being trapped here – blocked by an Unforgivable Curse.”

Because of the shock, you had not even registered that you had the remains of Ominis’s aunt in front of you.

For fear that your words would be clumsy and worsen the despair Ominis must be feeling, you decided it was better to remain silent and act instead.

Slowly but surely, you approached him. While he had his back turned to you, you wrapped your arms around his slim figure and hugged him from behind. It was not a gesture you would normally have made towards Ominis after what had happened between you two. But in view of the gloomy circumstances in which you found yourselves, you had found the strength to put your resentment aside.

And it had to be said that, underneath your unaffected exterior, you still had a huge soft spot for this boy. Letting him go through this ordeal on his own would simply have broken your own heart, as well as his.

“Ominis…” His name rolled off your tongue by itself.

You felt him stiffen at your touch, and you took in a sharp breath. In your eyes, it was just another rejection. He obviously did not want you by his side, both literally and figuratively. So, in an attempt to protect your fragile little heart, which had mistakenly let its guard down, you decided to let Ominis go.

But he stopped you.

“No. Stay.” He said firmly, though his voice sounded obviously shaken.

He held you back against him by grabbing your hand. He squeezed it, then pressed it against his chest with his own, just above his heart. His heartbeat echoed in your palm. You could feel it speeding up, matching the rhythm of yours, as if they were connected.

In response, you surrendered to the embrace by resting your head between his shoulder blades. However, once again, your touch had the effect of a painful electric shock on him, and he abruptly pulled away from you. This was just another example of how exhausting Ominis could be. He had always acted like this with you: one moment he was giving you hope that he was returning your feelings, and the next he was pushing you away.

Ominis moved away from you to get closer to Sebastian, shouting in a distraught manner, “This – is where she died. This is where we’ll die. I shouldn’t have listened to either of you!”

“Ominis, I’m truly sorry about your aunt. But I know what to do. It’s going to be difficult.” Sebastian replied in a calm, composed voice that contrasted radically with that of his friend.

Sebastian subsequently proceeded to explain his plan, that the Cruciatus Curse – the incantation for which was written on the floor – was to be used to open the next room. Knowing that Ominis categorically refused to be associated with the Dark Arts, and that you were unwilling to learn any of the Unforgivable curses, Sebastian’s last remaining option was to cast Crucio on you.

Ominis stared at him, speechless and dumbfounded, as if he had just uttered the most grotesque of abominations, “Are you out of your mind? Do you even realise what you’re saying? You want to torture your friend? Our friend!”

Sebastian raised his voice to match Ominis’s, “And you, can you think for two seconds? It’s either I hurt her temporarily, or I let her die in that shithole! And us with her! There’s no need to think about it, it’s a no-brainer!”

“And I’m telling you it’s out of the question! I won’t let you hurt her!”

“So what, then? We wait for you to come up with some wonderful solution where no Unforgivable Curse is involved? You know very well there’s no such thing! It’s Salazar Slytherin we’re talking about, you should have expected it.”

Sebastian paused, making the atmosphere even heavier. His tone had subsided, but you knew all too well that it did not mean that his anger had subsided along with it. Quite the contrary.

“You know something? For a guy who likes to control everything to the point of dictating other people’s choices, I think you’re being awfully passive right now.”

Though unseeing, Ominis’s eyes glared at Sebastian, looking daggers at him, “What exactly are you insinuating?”

“That you’re a control freak who’s got no balls.”

“Boys, stop it.” You tried to calm things down as you heard their voices escalate and their words sharpen.

But Ominis ignored you blatantly, to the point where you wondered if he had even heard you, “Oh, really? Do you want me to tell you what I think of you?”

‘‘Just you try!”

“You’ve become a complete nutter ever since Anne has been–”

“ENOUGH!”

Your outburst seemed to be just what was needed to put an end to the two boys’ cockfight. They both turned brusquely towards you, their eyes wide open. It had to be said that seeing you angry was already a rare event, so to see you furious with them was even more staggering.

“Enough.” You repeated firmly, sweeping your eyes over the two boys to make sure you had fully regained control of the situation. “Sebastian, shut up. You’ve gone too far. And you, Ominis, I don’t need you making decisions for me. It’s not your job to defend me.”

You gave Ominis a black look. It was foolish because he could not see it, but something told you that, somehow, he could still feel it. Especially with the double entendre in your words, which implicitly referred to how Ominis had rejected you, as well as all the bitterness you retained from it. It was petty, but you could not help yourself.

You then turned to the other boy, looking determined, “Do it, Sebastian. I’m ready.”

The brown-haired boy nodded and positioned himself in front of you. He raised his wand in your direction and concentrated.

“Crucio!”

A bolt of red light came out from the tip of Sebastian’s wand, and hit you square in the chest, right in the heart.

“NO!” You heard Ominis’s voice protest.

Was it really Ominis though? Maybe you had just dreamt it. You could not be sure, for every single one of your senses was overstimulated by an electric shock running through your body, and causing you to collapse to the ground on all fours. It was brutal but manageable, you thought.

Little did you know, that was only the preamble. The worst was yet to come.

Rapidly, every muscle in your body contracted, including those in your chest and throat, preventing you from breathing. The spell slowly left you suffocating, while the pain took care of absorbing what little energy remained in your body. It was as if a billion needles were sticking into every inch of your skin, sinking deeper and deeper with the aim of piercing your soul and finishing you off.

It seemed to you like this hell lasted for an entire hour, even though you were confident Sebastian would never let you endure this kind of torture for more than a couple of seconds.

And then it stopped. Though the remnants of the curse remained.

You had suspected that such a cruel curse was not going to leave you alone so easily. Still, you were not prepared for how agonising it felt.

Your ears ringing. Your vision fogged with black spots. Your anarchic breathing. Your body crumpling to the ground, inert. And all of this because of the lack of oxygen. All your senses were rendered nonfunctional, leading you to believe that you would remain in this state for the rest of your life.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked you with genuine concern in his voice, to which you nodded silently, your strength gradually returning.

Of course, Ominis was unable to see you, and began to get upset, thinking that you were still unresponding, “Of course not, Sebastian! Do you really think anyone can be alright after receiving the Cruciatus Curse?”

You wanted more than ever to say something to shut Ominis up. Or was it to reassure him? Probably a combination of both. Either way, the reality remained the same: you were still too weak to utter a single word. Your vocal cords were still paralysed from the agonised screams you had let out.

Thankfully, the door opening put an early stop to the boys’ bickering.

“It worked!” Sebastian exclaimed and immediately entered the room to explore it, leaving you alone with Ominis.

Ominis had no idea what to say to ease your pain. Unfortunately, he had already endured the Cruciatus Curse himself – and at the hands of his family to boot – so he knew how you might feel. However, no one had ever comforted him, so he had no idea what words would be likely to soothe you.

But if there was one thing his beloved Aunt Noctua used to tell him, it was that words come from the mind, and gestures from the heart. And it was always better to speak from the heart.

So Ominis let his heart guide him.

He knelt down beside you, and helped you to lie on your back, so that you would be more comfortable. But to your surprise, he did not stop there. He made you rest your head on his thighs, then stroked your hair with a hesitant hand. It was only after a moment that he spoke again.

“Can I be of any help?” He whispered, as if afraid of disturbing your repose while you were recuperating.

“H-Help–” Your weak voice got caught. You had to cough a couple of times before you could start again. “Help me stand up, will you?”

“You should take your time and lie down for a while. You just went through a lot–”

“I’ll survive.” You cut Ominis off abruptly, in a clearer but above all more irritated voice. You had had more than enough of his constant mood swings towards you, where one moment he could not be more doting on you, and the next he was acting as if he had never met you.

Ominis remained silent. You did not get the impression that he was hesitating over his next words, but rather that he was taking the time to digest how you had harshly refused his advice.

“…If you say so.”

“You know, I’m tougher than you think.” You kept the same cold, distant tone.

While he kept the same nonchalant and stoic tone, “I know.”

“Good.”

An awkward silence settled in, where you could do nothing but contemplate the ruins of your friendship. Where once stood a fortress of shared complicity and happiness, now remained only the vestiges of two acquaintances who were unwilling to rebuild what they had once known in the past.

To put an end to this heart-wrenching moment, you headed for the next room, without adding a word. Ominis followed suit, guided by his wand which pulsed red light at its tip.

“Guys? Care to lend me a hand, or do I have to explore this room all alone?” Sebastian called out without ceasing to rummage through Salazar Slytherin’s belongings.

You were about to answer when you suddenly saw Ominis stride resolutely in front of you. The frown on his face was unmistakable, as were his tense features.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve asking us for help! Not only did you just cast the Cruciatus Curse on your friend, but you didn’t even have the presence of mind to ask me if I was all right after finding my aunt’s bones!”

Ominis’s anger only seemed to have the effect of amusing Sebastian, “I thought it was stupid to ask someone if they were okay when it’s obvious they’re not.”

“It’s a question of common sense, Sebastian! If you had any, you would have realised that it would be best for you to lie low for a while and fend for yourself.”

“Excuse me for not being perfect. Not everyone can be a saint like you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian.” Ominis visibly cringed upon hearing his friend’s words.

But it only made Sebastian’s smirk grow wider, “For once, you’re right. I’m being ridiculous. You’re far from being a saint, because if we’d listened to you, we’d be rotting in the previous room, and we’d be letting Anne die too, since you’ve also given up on the idea of curing her, just like everybody else.”

“Don’t start that again. You know perfectly well I haven’t given up on her, or else I wouldn’t be here having this nonsensical conversation with you.”

Sebastian’s arrogant smile fell, “Oh, stop it, Ominis! We both know you’re not here for Anne, but you’re too shitscared to admit it to yourself. Which goes to show, even when you’re already blind, you can still be blinded by fear.”

“SHUT UP!” Ominis roared in a deeply enraged way that you had never heard before, to the point where it made you recoil. “You’ve gone too far this time, Sebastian!”

Still frightened by the turn this argument was taking, you decided to intervene, “Guys, please don’t start fighting again. We’re all on edge and–”

“Come. We’re leaving.” Ominis announced sternly, holding out his hand for you to take.

“W-What?” You stammered, bewildered.

“You heard me. Are you coming, or not?”

You had never heard Ominis give you or anyone else an order in this way. Confused as to where this excess of chauvinism was coming from, your instinct advised you to go with the flow. You took his hand – not without shooting Sebastian an apologetic glance – and let the blond boy guide you out of the Scriptorium.

Except that once outside, he continued to drag you through the corridors, towards what you recognised as the direction of the common room. Holding your hand so tightly to the point where it was almost painful, he walked ahead of you at a run.

“Ominis, not so fast.” You requested, but your plea fell on deaf ears.

“How dare he speak to me like that, and insinuate things he has no knowledge of? After everything I’ve done for him! He truly deserves to be left alone; it would surely teach him a valuable lesson. Although… if he was left unsupervised, I’m afraid he’d do even more stupid things. I don’t know what more I can do to get him to listen to reason– What am I saying? It’s not my duty to keep an eye on him. He should just fend for himself for a change!” The blond Slytherin kept rambling, spiralling out of control.

At this stage, nothing and nobody could stop him from getting worked up over Sebastian. He was so consumed with his anger that he was completely oblivious to your distress at walking, your legs still suffering from the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. You found it hard to keep up with his rapid pace without tripping over your own feet.

“Ominis–”

What was bound to happen did happen. Your legs gave out, and you found yourself on the cold, hard stone floor, which was undoubtedly going to leave several bruises on your skin. A blush of embarrassment crept up on your cheeks. The only good thing was that the sound of your fall had startled Ominis, who stopped and turned towards you.

He came dangerously close to you, “Pardon me if this is improper, but I can’t let you go on like this.”

Next thing you knew, you were off the ground, lifted by Ominis’s strong and protective arms. He held you securely against his chest, and with a newfound reflex, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your blush intensified, but this time it was because of your racing heart. You were speechless, taken aback, and mind going blank at the realisation that one of your dreams – to be in Ominis’s arms – was coming true, but not in the right circumstances.

“I’m sorry. I was too worked up to notice you were having trouble walking. I should have paid more attention to you.” He apologised as he resumed his walk.

Once in the common room, you thought he was going to put you down at the bottom of the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitories, so that you could go and rest, but instead he went and settled himself on one of the leather sofas opposite the fireplace, the exact same one where you had been sulking a couple of hours earlier. He sat down, cradling you in his lap, while his arms tightened around you a little more, as if he feared you might suddenly decide to break free of his embrace.

Assuming you were going to stay in that position for a while, you rested your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ribcage. Your best guess was that he was still on edge after what had happened with Sebastian.

Trying to soothe him, you murmured, “Don’t be too hard on Sebastian… He’s only ready to do anything to help his sister.”

Ominis let out a long, fed-up sigh, before replying, “And can’t you see that this is precisely the problem? He’ll do anything – even hurt you – and I can’t let him.”

“He hasn’t hurt me, Ominis.”

A frown was beginning to form between his brows again, “Oh really? Because receiving Crucio was a pleasure cruise for you?”

“He had no choice.”

“We always have a choice. This time it was Crucio, but what will it be next time? How do I know he won’t cross the point of no return?” Ominis raised his voice. He got so carried away with his anger that he failed to notice that he had started stroking your thigh with his thumb.

“He told me he would never hurt me.” You answered in an unwaveringly serene tone.

“And yet he already did. He’s a hypocrite.” He snarled. “Actions speak louder than words.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “Does this apply to you as well?”

“What do you mean?”

“Here you are, caressing my thighs after carrying me in your arms, and yet you still claim to see me as nothing more than a friend.”

Caught in the act, Ominis’s hand froze, as did the rest of his body; he even seemed to be holding his breath. He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if trying to seal them shut, for fear they would say something that would put his life on the line.

“Come on, Ominis. Now’s the time to tell me what you really think, don’t you think?” You said, giving him the last little push he needed to confess everything.

“…All right. I lied. Of course I have feelings for you… How could I not? You’re so considerate and graceful… But those feelings come with fear. Fear that you’ll be disappointed in me, that you’ll realise I’m nowhere near good enough for you, that you could find a thousand men better than me. But what I’m most afraid of is being with you. Because believe me, darling, if one day I have the honour of tasting your lips and your caresses, I know that I’ll never be able to live without you ever again.”

For the umpteenth time that evening, Ominis blew your mind in ways you had never imagined. And the worst part – or rather the best part, given the circumstances – was that he had no intention of stopping there. He had so many feelings in his heart that begged to be verbalised and brought to light.

“You made me want to get up in the morning again, if only to hear your voice for a split second. Before I realised it, you hadn’t just become more than a friend, you’d become my reason to live.”

With infinite delicacy, Ominis took your dainty hand in his, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. Slowly, as if to prolong this magical moment, he brought your hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on it, full of tenderness and respect.

“You are both my greatest desire and my greatest fear. Don’t you see how illogical this is? You’ve made me lose control, and I happily let you. I hope this is proof enough of how enamoured I am of you.”

Although you had regained your composure and your vocabulary, you still kept quiet, but this time it was on purpose. You had a very specific idea in the back of your mind.

“I’m begging you, love, say something.” Ominis’s trembling voice implored.

You replied, without the slightest hint of what you were thinking in your tone, “Actions speak louder than words, Ominis. Your words, not mine.”

Ominis did not need to be told twice, although he did take his time to make sure he did things the right way. His hand, which was still resting on your thigh, was trembling from the torrent of emotions running through him. With his fingertips, that same hand skimmed the contours of your body, and moved up to cup your cheek, sending shivers down your spine at the same time. You closed your eyes to savour the contact and understand a little better what the boy in front of you was feeling.

With his thumb, he sought out your lips, before tracing them to fully appreciate their voluptuousness. He felt the smile that had just appeared on your lips. Encouraged by this sign, Ominis leant towards you, his heart beating wildly. As he drew closer, your breaths mingled.

At last, your lips met, timidly at first, then with a passion that had been held back for far too long. This kiss was a moment suspended in time. The world seemed to stop around you, giving way to the magic of that perfect moment.

And suddenly, all the Shakespearean love stories you had ever read seemed derisory. Mere words of love were not enough, were no longer enough, now that you had tasted the unctuous proof of love from the handsome, touching blond boy who electrified your skin with the slightest touch.

Who needed a trite, dull ‘I love you’, when you had the loving touch of Ominis?

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