#but i couldn’t for the life of me find the remote

[mars-ipan]

just pulled the biggest stealth mission of my life

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this. 

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you. 

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name. 

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand. 

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead. 

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum. 

“Now there’s my good boy.” 

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips. 

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side. 

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store. 

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it. 

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it. 

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay. 

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name. 

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner. 

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name. 

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes. 

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say. 

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name. 

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name. 

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale. 

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working. 

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click. 

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker. 

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically. 

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically. 

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand. 

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall. 

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you. 

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one. 

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind. 

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead. 

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment. 

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame. 

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming. 

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips. 

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften. 

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’ 

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not. 

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose. 

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind. 

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see. 

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips. 

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted. 

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.” 

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different. 

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise. 

“M’not a dog.” he muttered. 

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.” 

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now. 

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet. 

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time. 

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments. 

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again. 

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections. 

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was. 

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances. 

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel. 

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away. 

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.” 

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name. 

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was. 

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy. 

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear. 

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face. 

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered. 

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips. 

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes. 

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer. 

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did. 

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters. 

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off. 

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed. 

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt. 

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see. 

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches. 

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard. 

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect. 

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale. 

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same. 

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you. 

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap. 

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working. 

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot. 

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him. 

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips. 

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of. 

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought. 

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen. 

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you. 

He parted his lips with an inhale. 

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you. 

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone. 

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time. 

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration. 

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later. 

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression. 

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it. 

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.” 

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share. 

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine. 

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked. 

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely. 

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours. 

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his. 

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen. 

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks. 

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff. 

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften. 

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him. 

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it. 

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes. 

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name. 

-

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

[joonieskinks]

au where you were married to Cpt John MacTavish, but wake up to find yourself married to Sergeant Johnny MacTavish (original vs remake Soap)

“No,” you state coldly. The shock was still sinking in.

“No, Price. That’s not my husband.”

Price’s gaze puzzles. “You asked for Johnny MacTavish, this is Johnny. Our Johnny.” He gestures to your supposed husband, who is taking this all in himself, but he sits just staring at you.

Johnny, who couldn’t stop admiring your face, your body, your ring on your fourth finger. He gave you that. Well, sort of.

Johnny, who was your husband. You, his wife. He had a wife in another life. Gods, what a catch you are, how did he manage to bag you? he thinks.

Wait. Gods, does that mean he gets you too?

“I asked for my John, my John MacTavish, my husband. He-“ You state and finally look, really look at the man before you, this Johnny.

“He’s too young, it’s not the same. It’s- it’s off.” You look back down to the floor, you’re utterly confused. One moment you’re in bed at home, the next you’re on base in a room that’s designated for “MacTavish”. At first you thought it was a dream, so of course you went asking for your husband just to see his face again.

You didn’t expect to actually see him, well- a younger version of your husband, much less an alive one. You had to pinch yourself, you really were here. This was real.

Maybe it was a second chance, maybe it was a cruel trick of fate. You couldn’t tell just yet. You were hesitant, scared.

But Johnny on the other hand, he was having a hard time keeping still and his hands to himself with the likes of you in front of him.

“Cap’, can ye give us a moment?” Johnny asked his superior, who happily obliged. Price eyed you as if to warn you not to do anything stupid, but still be backed out of the room.

You could still barely look at Johnny. He’s your husband, but so much younger, he’s still just as handsome, he’s technically yours but- it was all too weird. Would he even want you? What if he had someone else already?

“Bonnie? Will ya look at me?” Johnny comes straight up to you, holding your hands in his. His fingers playing with your wedding ring, he already loves the idea of it, of you as his. That ring to call you his and his alone. Never did he think he’d have anything remotely close to this, so he considers you a blessing if anything.

You reluctantly keep your head down so Johnny brings one hand to cup your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face.

The sight of his concerned face nearly breaks your heart. It hurts to see him yet it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of since his passing. To have him before you again. It’s all so overwhelming you can’t help but tear up.

“No need for that, bonnie.” He smiles as he cups your cheeks. It feels so good to have his skin on yours again, you close your eyes at the feeling.

“If you’ll have me, I’ll certainly have you. Even if ye are a cougar now.” He jokes and your eyes shoot open at his words. You hit him lightly out of annoyance, but he just smiles. You can’t help but begrudgingly smile back, rolling your eyes.

Same sense of humour. Maybe he is your husband after all.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You admit, bringing your fingers to graze across his face. To actually feel him again, it really feels like you’re getting your second chance at love.

“‘Ts nice to finally meet my missus.” He says softly as he brings his forehead to rest against yours, but it’s you who brings your lips to meet his, losing yourself in his touch after all these years alone…

Then it hits you that this younger version of your husband might have even more stamina and strength- so naturally you waste no time getting him back into his quarters and testing that theory.

At first you feel a little nervous that Johnny might not like what he sees. After all, you are a couple years older than he is now, but he’s utterly entranced as you stand bare before him. His hands all over your body, exploring every crevice, kissing you up and down. He can’t get enough.

“My wife’s so beautiful”, “my wife’s all mine”, “gonna make ya feel so good, show ya what a good husband I’ll make for ya.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! could I request Argenti, Boothill and Jing Yuan when someone tries to flirt with their s/o? I absolutely adore your writing btw!! Hope you're doing good!!

Boothill

Has a bullet with their name written on it and it was in times like theses where he wishes his shit hadn’t been tampered with, just so he could curse the bastard out for merely brushing shoulders either you.

Words such as:

Mother fudger

Heck

And Gosh darn it

Weren’t exactly going to scare the person flirting with you off with their tail between their legs but threatening to shot them would. However after the person had scampered off, Boothill would be subjected to you scolding him about threatening people for simply flirting with you, when there were other ways to do so without the inclusion of unnecessary violence.

Boothill can’t help it! He hates it when people flirt with his darling and he isn’t one for sharing you either, he’d much rather hog all of your time and attention for himself! You were his partner! Not everyone else’s!

‘Boothill.’ You said warningly.

‘What?’ He said as he tugged you into his side, keeping his arm at your waist possessively. ‘He was getting a little too cosy and I had to remind that fudging idiot to keep his hands to himself.’ He adds with a smirk, stealing a kiss from your lips.

His jealously stems from his own hatred towards his metal body, you could find someone else who could feel you in your entirety beyond from their face and head, unlike him.

‘I get that and I thank you for running them off, but you know you don’t have to worry about me looking at anyone else.’ You reassured him as you held his face in your hands and watched as his smile falters and his featured relaxed into your touch. ‘You’re all I want, you’re all i’ll ever need regardless of your inability to physically feel.’ You then pressed your forehead against his, feeling him push himself further against you in a selfish need to feel you. ‘You’re my handsome, handsome cowboy.’ You whispered.

‘I am your handsome, handsome cowboy.’ He muttered under his breath.

Argenti

He’s not jealous in the slightest.

He’s the most trusting in the strength of your relationship and you to even allow for an ounce of doubt to permeate his thoughts.

If anything he’d agree with everything the person was saying about you while adding onto it, making the person feel as though their attempts at flirting with you were useless, especially when the cherry haired knight beside you was casually waxing poetry on your ethereal beauty.

‘Indeed they are a beauty to behold indeed.’ He’d say as he knelt before you and held your hands in his all the while making sure his eyes remained glued on you as he spoke. ‘I’d kneel before their alter for the rest of eternity if it meant achieving the impossible and catching their gaze, they truly are my reason for breathing, the reason I see beauty whenever I travel, as they are the true beauty I have been seeking for my whole life.’ He finishes by kissing the back of your hands softly, his thumbs caressing the skin there as though they were porcelain.

The person who was flirting with you left not long after because how could they compare with that?!

All they said was that you were cute and Argenti took that and made you come across as though you were a deity lost to time, finally having been found after so long.

They knew they couldn’t win and left for easier people to pull their mediocre pick up lines on.

Argenti is your Gomez, you are his Morticia. There was no one getting between you two because the love you had was stronger than most.

Jealousy doesn’t exist when you actually trust someone whom you claim is half of your own soul.

Jing yuan

He finds the face they make upon realising who’s s/o they’ve been flirting with particularly funny to be even remotely jealous.

Not to say that he doesn’t get jealous, he does but it’s not nearly as evident. He’s self assured in his relationship with you that he didn’t even think of the person flirting with you as a threat even in the slightest.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your riveting conversation but I’d like my partner back now.’ He’d say as he stood behind the person flirting with you.

‘Look buddy I found them,’ the person looked behind them, and upon realising who was behind them, the words of annoyance were quickly discarded as they could only stare at a smiling Jing Yuan, ‘first…’

Jing yuan raised his brows as the Cheshire smile on his lips only grew at the evident regret across their face. ‘Hmmm? Cat got your tongue? You seem a bit pale, maybe you should go sit down and rest.’ He suggested and watched in amusement as the person didn’t fight back, but instead wordlessly followed his instruction and walked away for you both to go somewhere else.

‘You’re having too much fun with this.’ You’d tell Jing Yuan as he placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the establishment.

‘What can I say, their expressions may be the same every time but that doesn’t stop them from being more humorous than the last.’ He replies with a chuckle as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. ‘However I cannot blame them for finding you as appealing as I do if they’re so desperate as to flirt for your attention.’ He adds and you huff and crossed your arms. ‘As if you were any different.’

Jing yuan raised his brows, silently telling you to continue.

‘When you wanted my attention, you would sit next to me and rest your head on my shoulder before falling asleep.’ You added and Jing yuan chuckles. ‘I didn’t-‘

‘All. The. Time.’ You cut him off, emphasising each word that left your mouth. ‘Yangqing told me that you only did that to me, no one else got that special treatment from the all mighty general.’ You smirked at Jing Yuan who muttered a soft ‘Yangqing.’ under his breath as you held onto his side. ‘It doesn’t matter now because I thought it was extremely cute.’ You reassured him with a kiss to the cheek as you both walked home, tucked closely against one another, the events that happened prior having completely been forgotten as you reminisced the past.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BODYGUARDS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader x Platonic!Wade Wilson

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you come home feeling overwhelmed by college stress and a troublesome boss, Logan and Wade step in. After a heartfelt talk with Logan, they confront your boss to ensure you’re no longer troubled. With their support, you find comfort and reassurance, knowing you’re not alone in facing your challenges.

YOU HAD ALWAYS KNOWN LIFE WASN’T EASY, BUT TODAY WAS SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY. The stress of juggling college classes, work, and just trying to keep it all together was slowly getting the better of you. You weren’t the type to break easily, but this… this was overwhelming.

You pushed open the door to the shared apartment you lived in with Logan and Wade, your bag slung over your shoulder, your eyes cast downward. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of home, a mix of Logan’s woodsy cologne and Wade’s unmistakable love for chimichangas.

Wade was lounging on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through TV channels. “Hey, sport! You’re just in time to witness me obliterate Logan at Mario Kart,” he called out, grinning like a maniac.

Logan, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow at Wade, then glanced at you. Normally, you’d throw a sarcastic quip back at Wade or smile at Logan, but tonight, you couldn’t muster either. You barely looked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled, walking straight past them and into your room, shutting the door softly behind you.

Both men exchanged a look, their senses immediately on high alert.

“That’s… not normal,” Wade commented, frowning slightly. “She didn’t even call me an idiot. Do you think it’s serious?”

Logan stayed silent, eyes narrowing. The way you’d come home, shoulders slumped, weighed down by something unseen—it was enough for him to know something was deeply off.

“Let her have some space,” Logan said gruffly, though the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Wade sat up a bit straighter. “You think it’s space she needs? Or maybe a hilarious anecdote about the time I fought a taco truck driver because he wouldn’t give me extra guac?”

Logan’s glare was sharp enough to silence even Wade for a moment. “Space,” Logan repeated firmly. “For now.”

~

Inside your room, you collapsed onto the bed, the soft comforter doing little to quell the storm brewing inside you. Your mind raced, thoughts spiraling.

Your boss at work had been on your case all week, nitpicking every little thing as if you couldn’t do anything right. Then there was that huge exam you’d studied for in your hardest class… and you had failed it. The letter ‘F’ haunted your thoughts, taunting you. Everything felt like it was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You hated feeling this way, like the world was slipping from your control. More than that, you hated the idea of burdening Logan or Wade with it. They had enough going on already.

A knock came at your door—light, but firm. You didn’t respond immediately, but the door cracked open slightly, revealing Logan’s rugged face. His hazel eyes were full of that familiar intensity, softened just enough to show he was concerned.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, but gentle in a way reserved just for you.

You nodded, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Logan stepped in, closing the door behind him, and came to sit beside you, his large hand finding its way to your back. His touch was warm, solid, grounding.

“You’ve been off since you walked in,” Logan started, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your back. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

The dam you’d tried to keep sealed started to crack. Your throat tightened, and tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes. “I… I don’t even know where to start, Logan.”

Logan was silent for a moment, letting you collect yourself. He wasn’t one to push, but when he spoke again, there was a firmness in his tone. “Start wherever you want. I’m here. Wade’s here. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

The floodgates opened. You started rambling, voice shaky, hands trembling as you tried to get it all out—the boss who wouldn’t leave you alone, the crushing pressure from school, the failure of the test you’d worked so hard on, and how everything just felt like it was spiraling out of control.

“I feel like I’m failing at everything, Logan. I try so hard, but it’s never enough. I just… I can’t anymore,” you whispered, finally breaking down, tears streaming freely now.

Logan pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel protected, safe. He didn’t say anything at first, just held you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

“That’s not true,” Logan finally said, his voice steady. “You’re not failing. Things go wrong, yeah. Shit happens. But it doesn’t mean you’re not doing enough. You’re human. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

You sniffled, leaning into him more, soaking in his warmth, his solidity. “It’s just been so much…”

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his hand cupping your cheek gently. “And that’s why you don’t have to do it alone. I got your back, always. And if anyone’s been bothering you…” His voice took on a dangerous edge, “I’ll take care of it.”

You chuckled weakly through your tears. “I don’t want you fighting my boss.”

Logan huffed, but his expression softened. “Alright, no fights. But seriously… You don’t have to deal with that crap on your own.”

At that moment, the door swung open dramatically, and Wade popped his head in, eyes wide with exaggerated concern. “Are we hugging in here? Because I can totally make this a group hug.”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself. Wade had a way of lightening the mood, even when things felt impossibly heavy.

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as Wade bounded into the room, throwing himself on the bed beside you.

“I was eavesdropping—sorry, not sorry,” Wade started, “and let me just say, anyone giving you a hard time? Deadpool is on it. I’ve got a very particular set of skills. Skills I’ve acquired over a very chaotic, messy life. I’ll make sure no one messes with my little sibling.” He gave you a dramatic wink.

Logan shot Wade a warning look, but there was an understanding between them. For all their bickering, when it came to you, they were always on the same side.

You smiled, feeling a little lighter with both of them by your side.

Logan rubbed your arm gently. “We’re gonna take the rest of the night off. No school, no work. You need a break.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’,” Logan said firmly. “You’re taking the night for yourself. We’ll watch a movie or do something fun.”

Wade clapped his hands together. “Movie night! I’ll grab the popcorn. And no, you don’t get a choice— we are watching Shrek.”

Logan let out a small grunt, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Wade’s enthusiasm. Despite the mess of emotions swirling inside you, having them around—one a protective, gruff presence, and the other a chaotic, endearing force—made you feel like maybe things would be okay. You weren’t alone in this, no matter how overwhelming it felt.

Logan pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and comforting. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

And for the first time that day, you believed it.

~

The next morning, you woke up feeling a little more rested. Wade’s snoring had been a background noise throughout the night, and Logan had stayed close, his arm draped protectively around you as the three of you fell asleep halfway through Shrek.

You yawned and stretched, your body feeling lighter than the night before. It wasn’t all better, but you knew with Logan and Wade by your side, you’d get through it.

But what you didn’t know—what neither Logan nor Wade had mentioned to you—was that they had a plan.

~

Later that day, Logan and Wade stood just outside your workplace, both wearing sunglasses. Wade had insisted it was part of the "covert op" vibe, even though they stood out like sore thumbs. Logan grunted, adjusting his leather jacket.

“Okay, Wolvie, what’s the game plan? Because I’m itching to shove someone’s head in a copy machine,” Wade said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan growled under his breath. “No shoving heads in machines. We’re here to talk.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “Talk? Logan, we didn’t come all the way here to talk. Have you met us?”

Logan sighed. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Never,” Wade replied, clearly thrilled about the potential chaos.

Logan gave him a side glance. “Just let me handle it.”

Inside, your boss—a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an arrogant air—was sitting at his desk, tapping away at his computer when the door burst open, the bell jingling violently. He looked up, startled, only to see Logan and Wade storming in like two very intimidating storm clouds.

“Uh, can I help you—”

Logan stepped forward, leaning on the man’s desk, his presence radiating danger. “You’re the one who’s been makin’ her life a living hell, right?”

Your boss swallowed hard, his eyes flicking nervously between Logan's intense stare and Wade’s unsettlingly enthusiastic grin. He tried to maintain some semblance of composure, though his voice wavered. “I’m… sorry? Who are you talking about?”

Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “You know exactly who. The one you’ve been botherin’ all week. You’re gonna stop.”

The boss blinked, sweat already starting to form on his brow. “Listen, if you’ve got a problem, there are proper channels—”

Wade, who had been pacing behind Logan like an impatient child, suddenly slammed his hands down on the desk, making the man jump. “Oh, we’re past proper channels, buddy. See, we’re the 'hands-on' approach. You ever watch John Wick? Think of us like that, but with more sarcasm.” Wade flashed a grin that was more menacing than reassuring. “Y’know, I’ve got so many ways we could handle this. My personal favorite? Something involving a very, very tight stapler and a completely unrelated office supply.”

Logan shot him a glance, silently telling Wade to dial it back. Wade just winked, enjoying himself far too much.

The boss stammered, scrambling for words, his hands now trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean to upset anyone. If there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No misunderstanding,” Logan interrupted, his voice calm but filled with a quiet, deadly promise. “You’ve been makin’ life harder than it needs to be. That ends now. You leave her alone, or you’re gonna wish you had.”

The room went deathly quiet. Logan’s words hung in the air, and though his tone was controlled, the weight behind it made it clear—he wasn’t making a request.

Your boss nodded vigorously, too scared to say much else. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll make sure there’s no more trouble. I didn’t realize…”

Logan stood up straight, stepping back and letting the tension between them settle. “Good. ‘Cause if I hear otherwise, we’ll be back. And I guarantee next time, talkin’ won’t be on the table.”

Wade patted the boss on the shoulder as they turned to leave. “See? Easy peasy. Now, don’t make me come back and introduce you to my friend Mr. Duct Tape, okay?”

The boss just nodded, wide-eyed, watching them until they were out of sight.

~

Outside, Wade was practically skipping with glee. “Did you see his face? I think he aged ten years in the last five minutes! Man, that was fun.”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. “I’d rather not come back.”

Wade shrugged. “Eh, we’ll see. If he so much as frowns in their direction again, he’s getting the full Deadpool experience.”

Logan let out a low grunt. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

As they walked away from your workplace, Wade threw an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Y’know, Wolvie, I gotta say… we make a hell of a team. You with the menacing silence, me with the witty banter? That guy didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan shoved Wade’s arm off, giving him a side-eye. “Just don’t get used to it.”

~

Back at the apartment, you were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, when the door swung open. Logan walked in first, followed by Wade, who was humming some kind of victory tune.

You glanced up at them, feeling a bit more refreshed after the night of rest. “Where have you guys been?”

Logan shrugged, moving into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. “Had to handle somethin’.”

Wade, on the other hand, wasted no time flopping down beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders. “Oh, you know, just a quick errand. Nothing major. But let’s just say that your boss? Yeah, he’s gonna be a lot more… accommodating from now on.”

You blinked, staring at Wade in confusion. “What did you guys do?”

Logan took a swig of his beer, his expression neutral. “Had a little chat. Straightened some things out.”

Wade grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh, yeah. It was glorious. There was sweating, stammering, a little bit of—”

“Wade,” Logan interrupted, shooting him a look.

Wade huffed dramatically but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Point is, you don’t need to worry about that jerk anymore. He’s gonna be on his best behavior. And if he’s not, well…” Wade’s grin widened. “He won’t be for long.”

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of shock and gratitude. “You… You didn’t have to do that.”

Logan came over, standing behind the couch, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Yeah, we did. You don’t deserve to deal with that crap.”

“Exactly,” Wade chimed in. “And if anyone makes you feel like that again, well… we’ve got plenty of time for ‘errands.’”

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Sure, Logan and Wade had their differences, and Wade was a whole different level of unpredictable, but they both cared about you fiercely. It wasn’t just words with them—it was action, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

“Thanks, guys,” you said quietly, looking between the two of them.

Logan gave you a nod, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

Wade grinned and reached for the remote. “Alright, now that we’ve saved the day, I vote we celebrate with some violent cartoons and an unhealthy amount of snacks.”

You smiled, settling back into the couch. Despite the chaos, you knew one thing for certain: with Logan and Wade in your corner, there wasn’t anything—or anyone—that could get to you. And that was a comfort you didn’t take lightly.

As Wade flicked through the channels, Logan sat beside you, his hand resting on your knee. You leaned into him, feeling safe, protected. The weight of the world wasn’t so heavy anymore—not when you had these two looking out for you.

And as the opening credits of Shrek 2 rolled across the screen, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @welcometochilis585

If you want to be added to the tag list for Logan content, let me know! 🫶

[morgluvsconnie]

HEY EMO BOY .ᐟ c.kamo

sub!choso x reader! , bestfriend!choso , smut , praising , edging , overstimulation , dom!reader , etc idk.

a/n: haven’t wrote a choso smut before but we’ll see how it goes, enjoy.

choso’s nothing but your best friend.

he’s so quiet, doesn’t like hanging around people. no one but you. only speaks when spoken to, typical “emo boy” things.

i mean, his life is soooo boring. he has no type of fun, he’s just so bland and lame.

but you knew he wasn’t really like that.

see, on the outside, more specifically in public, choso was quiet. a bored glare never leaving anyone who spoke to him or you. but on the inside, he’s nothing but a big baby.

he was so whiney when he was choking up your name, on both of his knees with his thighs spread out while you sat in front of him. a remote in your hand while you stared down at him with adoring eyes. “you’re so cute when you get like this.” you cooed, smiling softly.

letting out a soft whimper, choso’s body twitched as your foot pushed up softly against the bulge in his pants. “a-ah.. so good..” he moaned, trying his best not to stick his hand in his almost soaked pants and finish the job his self.

he knew if he even moved the slightest against you, or touched his self, you’d turn the vibrator off move your foot away.

but the poor boy couldn’t help it.

you felt him softly push himself against the bottom of your feet, looking down at your freshly painted toes with a desperate look in his glossy eyes.

“aht aht,” you pulled your foot away, choso’s brows furrowing as he quickly looked up at you and shook his head. “i told you not to move.” you tilted your head, slowing the vibrator down until it was finally off.

“no…no i’m sorry, i won’t-” he panted, throwing his head back. “please, i won’t do it again…” he looked down at the bulge in his pants and then up.

the way your panties showed under your crossed legs, he couldn’t resist it. groaning as he imagined the way you’d feel around him, mercy.

you followed his eyes with a small chuckle, uncrossing your legs and spreading them slowly, your skirt covering everything he wanted to see. and feel.

“you want me to ride you, cho?” you tilted your head, a small playful pout on your face.

the way his eyes lit up, you’d think he’d been waiting for that since the day you two met. he has.

so there you were, riding him so good, so soft and slow. too slow.

“hah- please… i can’t…” he couldn’t even finish his words. his hands were gripping your hips, nails digging into your skin, making your back arch at an even better angle.

he loved the way he filled you up, feeling you tighten around his cock. the way you throbbed at the same pace he did.

you were so warm and wet, and your slick sounds filling the room were like a melody.

“cant what, baby? spit it out.” you ran your hands along his chest, making his eyes flutter.

choso stuttered, trying his best to get his words out, but your soft moans sent him over the edge. the way your warmth wrapped around him so good, your soft moans filling his ears just as he filled you, it was amazing.

strands of his hair stuck against his forehead as his furrowed brows and stared into your eyes.

he couldn’t help but buck his hips with a desperate huff as you lowered yours over and over again, the nastiest whine leaving his throat. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna-”

poor baby couldn’t even finish his words, letting his eyes roll to the back of his head as you quickened your pace, riding him through his seemingly never ending climax.

feeling him fill you up, a white, sticky ring coated around the base of his cock, his body twitched as you continued to ride him.

his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his grip on your waist almost deadly. he let his hands trail down to your thighs, trying his best not to bruise just your hips and find somewhere else to grip.

“you like that, cho? hm?” you whispered after leaning down before nibbling at his ear. his jagged breaths filled yours, making you smile, kissing just under his ear lobe.

choso went from thrusting to jerking his hips, moving his hands to your back and pulling you close.

he hated when you purposely held in your orgasm just to make him overstimulate himself in order to push you back to it. but he loved it so much.

holding you tighter, he pounded into you, making you grip the sheets beside his head. “shit…” you moaned softly, arching your back and digging your nails into choso’s scalp.

his tip kissed your core with every forceful thrust, his body still twitching, making him so deeper by the second.

“cho..” you whimpered, finally feeling yourself come to a climax. as your legs tightened around him and your body shook, choso’s breath hitched at the feeling of you fluttering around him.

you let go of his shoulder, your heart beating quickly as you nudged your head in his neck, his slow thrusts making you twitch even more.

but as said, choso was nothing but than your bestfriend.

even as he sloppily kissed you, hands tangled in your hair, practically begging for more.

[theemporium]

[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. 

.

[princessbrunette]

you remembered the first time you laid eyes on jj maybank.

a shitty admin job was the best you could score from your father, the sheriff — something light you could add to your resumé, whilst doing minimal work. you didn’t anticipate working in the local jail to be as boring as it was, despite knowing you were going into a job that consisted solely of checking people in and out and punching names into a computer. you tried to make it as fun as possible, showing up in your cutest miniskirts, fluffiest jackets, daintiest mary-jane heels, but there was never anyone interesting coming in and out the cells, only drunks being thrown into the tank after one too many.

that was until jj came along.

it was like everything moved in slow motion the first time he got brought in. your father had the blondes wrists clipped behind his back, shoving him along the hallways. it was the first young person you’d gotten in weeks, your shoulder finding the door frame as you stare, watching in intrigue. whatever jj had done to get himself wound up in a cell, he didn’t seem remotely sorry about it. the smirk on his face was worn proudly as a medal, even whilst being shoved along by the sheriff he had this swagger to each step. you didn’t even realise you were staring, dressed in all your girly glory until he locked eyes with you.

his smirk spread on his face. jj knew who you were, but that was to no surprise — everyone did. the sheriffs daughter. a title you wore not so proudly, as all it did was get you labelled as a narc by association in high school and barred from any party where drinking or smoking could potentially be occurring. jj’s eyes drag down you, and then back to your eyes, even turning his head to hold the eye contact as he got shoved into a cell.

your father followed his gaze before grabbing a fistful of his white tshirt to hold him straight. “and quit eye balling my daughter, would you?”

he holds your gaze with that amused grin for a moment longer before blinking down at the shorter man. “thats my bad, sheriff.” he drawls in that lazy southern accent of his. you had to have him.

it was over from that point on. you’d seek him out, tired of being associated with your fathers profession and wanting to have some fun for once. jj was more than happy to oblige, infact he couldn’t believe his luck. there was a thrill to the two of you being out in the open together, something in the two of you wanting to be caught — just to see what would happen. you’d even go as far as to makeout against your car right outside the station after you’d finished a shift, jj all but shoving his tongue down your open mouth as his hands grope you all over for other officers to see and relay to shoupe.

jj frequently returned to his temporary cell with all the trouble he’d get in — your glossed lips turning upwards elatedly at the sight of his cuffed form trudging its way through the hall like routine. you’d even gotten to the point of ignoring your father and running to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “oh jayj what’d you get yourself into this time?” you whine, only for him to chuckle it off with the same joke he made each time.

“maybe i just wanted to see you, babydoll.”

by which at this point, your father had yanked you off the boy, sending you away. “go do your work, don’t lemme tell you again.”

of course it drove a wedge between you and your father. but he deserved it! he ruined your social life growing up by shutting down parties and arresting your peers, the least you could do was date one of his hottest cell-regulars. every gaze across the waiting room as maybank checks out was met with your father appearing seemingly from nowhere to ask “you really think it’s gonna work out with a kid like that? don’t come cryin’ to me when you get hurt. i warned ‘ya.” to which you’d roll your eyes and walk away. jj would never hurt you, not unless you asked him to.

he was always desperate to get his hands on you in other ways during your alone time, crowding you from behind at the sketchy bar he’d brought you to and wrapping his arms round your waist.

“your daddy’s gon’ be real mad at me for bringing his sweet little daughter to a joint like this.” he jokes, pressing kisses to the sweet spot behind your ear as you lose interest in attempting to attract the bartenders attention.

“he’s not the boss of me.” you sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his hands and mouth on you. you hear him chuckle, craning round to look at you from the side.

“nah? all grown up now, huh.” he comments, making a weak giggle leave you as you press your ass further into his crotch. “guess someone’s gotta step up then, right? maybe next time i’ll be the one puttin’ you in cuffs. bet you’d like that.” his coarse hands slide down your arms to your wrists before binding them with his hands behind your back, continuing to attack your jaw and neck with little kisses.

“you can do whatever you like to me, jj.” you admit sweetly, and he responds with a kiss to your cheek.

“i know. it’s my favourite thing about ‘ya.”

[morphodae]

Gregory Violet |Headcanons

Including general, relationship (x reader), and some modern au as a bonus!

These headcanons kind of trickle down into a story/narrative so please bear with it lol (plus: these are to warm up! I have ideas for future oneshots)

cw: none

Read more P4 headcanons here: 🦉x ,🌹 x ,🌱 x

General:

I see Gregory coming from a well-off family. They might not have the highest rank out there (they’re probably a viscount or baron nobility rank), but they have enough to send Gregory to Weston.

Either Gregory is an only child, eldest, or youngest. I have a feeling that he may not be super close with his family; perhaps he comes from a blended family or doesn’t have many siblings.

Naturally, his talents sent him to Weston College— which is unnatural for a lot of noble, rich London boys. Most get in for status and money, Gregory got sent there for his talents. Gregory was born with talents and had great expectations placed on him while he was content to create art and do things on his own.

When he was younger, he was obviously different compared to noble boys and girls around him— or general kids of the era. Being so “different, odd, and weird” was something that bothered him in his younger years, but once he turned 18 he stopped caring about others’ opinions. He’s his own person and he couldn’t care less what others have to say about it.

As such, he’s very obviously not thrilled to go to a crowded, renown, high-end school, but thankfully he was sorted into a House that accentuates his eccentricities with others like him. Still, he tends to keep to himself (as most introverts) save for a few close friends— Redmond, Greenhill, and Bluewer.

He’s “eccentric” by many peers but if he were in modern times, he’s definitely neurodivergent at the least. Definitely not me projecting my own autism /s lol.

One misconception is that people believe him to be antisocial or too “moody” when this is not the case. Gregory has a vibrant inner world and is an excellent observer; which allows me to transition into how a relationship with him might be.

Relationship:

Gregory isn’t one to actively seek anyone out, let alone a significant other. For any sort of relationship to have with this artsy fellow, you’d have to either 1) be someone who stands out with the time period’s standards (like him) or 2) have to be brought into his life suddenly and stay for a while before anything remotely romantic happens.

It’s fun to see him with someone who is either a lot like him or someone who is a bit of an opposite— although mostly in external appearance and I’ll explain why.

I don’t think someone who is a polar opposite to be someone who suits Gregory.

If say, someone preferred cutesy girly things or pastel colors and sunlight, that’d be fine. However, I see a calmer personality with a lot of empathy and respect being something he’d need. Otherwise I don’t think a boisterous loud person to be someone that he’d see himself with romantically.

With that said, courting you is… a feat lol. It takes Cheslock (poor Gregory), and the rest of the P4 to really push him in the direction of you.

When it finally happens and Gregory and you are able to formally meet and court, all five of them practically cheer lol. No one thought he’d be the type to find a s/o and Gregory’s parents were concerned he’d die alone :(

Because of expectations of his nobility, I do expect he’d marry you in some way irregardless of gender. But with you, someone he’s not arranged to and someone he truly loves, he tends to view it as a romantic and passionate expression of his commitment towards you.

A relationship with Gregory is majorly spent in comfortable silence. I’d say quality time is a major thing with him. However, he, like a lot of introverts, still needs ample time to himself— so don’t expect him to be glued at your hip. Plus, for that time period, PDA and general overt displays of affection whether in public or private was generally seen as odd. Gregory, for one, doesn’t care too much for the status quo but he is still figuring out his first relationship with you and how to navigate it while respecting you.

In a modern au, he’d be a bit more clingy in private. I see him as the type to play with your hair, study its shape and color for his sketches but mostly because it feels nice to him. If you are reading or gaming then I see him the type to sit behind you with his chin on your shoulder just enjoying quiet contact. It’s very wholesome. Alternatively, whether you lay with him on his chest or he on yours, he just enjoys quiet moments where he can be close to you.

He’s very reciprocal. By this I mean; you respect him and his hobbies, he respects yours. You show him kindness and care, so does he. He’s actually quite a classically romantic guy and is one to surprise you with flowers, food, and of course, sketches and art! He definitely cares and worries about your well-being and happiness (as seen in manga with his friends too!), so he will have his moments where it seems like he’s mother-henning you if he feels that you aren’t taking care of yourself.

Don’t be surprised that one of his first drawings of you was during his pining phase before the two of you formally spoke or courted lol.

Overall a relationship with Gregory is mostly spent in quiet understanding in silence with a partner who is able to empathically express and respect him mutually. Despite being a bit of an oddball for the time period he lives in, he still is a traditional romantic who loves to look after your well-being and give you gifts 💜

[kaleldobrev]

I Want Them To Hear

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben wants to make sure Hughie knows what it actually sounds like when the two of you have sex. In other words, Ben makes damn sure Hughie gets yet another night of no sleep because of the two of you.

Original Prompt: Requested by @k-slla | I loved your last post (poor, poor Hughie 😂). I would love to read a sequel, where SB& reader DO keep everyone up, for other reasons 😏 (if you're up to it 😊) x Kerly

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing (23x), Smut (Oral - M&F receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex - P in V), Implied p*rn watching, Hughie getting scarred for life (again), Semi-Public sex (living room)

Authors Note: Before you read this make sure you read A Simple Misunderstanding first | I think 23 curse words is a new record for curse words for me (21 out of them are the same too) | I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it! | 18+ only please | MDNI | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You looked over at the clock that was above the fireplace in the living room, and it was almost midnight, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that you weren’t even tired. Although you didn’t have a good sleep schedule before you joined the Boys (as you were a full-time college student when you joined the group), your sleep schedule somehow became even more jacked when you joined; something you didn’t think was even remotely possible. You had found yourself going to sleep at three, four, sometimes five in the morning, or not even going to sleep at all – a constant flow of energy drinks and coffee to keep you going.

The last couple of days though were unusually uneventful, verging on normal, like there wasn’t some kind of revenge war going on. The closest thing that had been kind of eventful was Hughie’s outburst this morning over breakfast, accusing you and Ben of having sex which kept him up – something that actually didn’t happen between you and Ben even though it was something that you did want to happen last night. Due to his little outburst though, the rest of the day was filled with a consistent flow of jokes (mainly at your best friend’s expense) that seemed to put everyone in a great mood (except Hughie of course). In a way, you did feel bad for him, but at the same time, his outburst this morning was unnecessary.

Your legs were currently in Ben’s lap, one of his arms draped over them as his other hand was lying on the arm of the couch with a remote in hand; the only source of light in the room coming from the television. As Ben flipped through channel after channel, you couldn’t help but stare at him as the shadows on his face changed with every single flip trying to find something to watch. “How is there so many channels and nothing to watch?” He asked, not even looking at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and he turned to face you. “I found plenty of things I’d watch. It’s not my fault you’re picky.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not picky. TV just sucks now.” He began, and you already knew where this conversation was going. It was about to turn into a ‘back in my day’ rant that you had heard practically every single day since you had met him. “Back in my day, TV was actually good.” Before you could interject he continued. “We didn’t have stupid reality shows about people who are famous for nothing.” You couldn’t help but agree with him on that one. “There’s 400 channels and only two of them are watchable.”

“And which channels does the almighty Soldier Boy deem watchable?” You asked, emphasizing the nickname.

“ESPN and TCM.” He answered without hesitation. You simply just rolled your eyes.

“Of course those would be the only two channels.” You mumbled, even though you knew he could hear you; there was no use in mumbling around him. “I love ESPN and TCM too, but there are other channels that are watchable Ben. How about FoodNetwork and HGTV?”

Ben scoffed. “Sometimes they’re watchable.”

“Okay. How about…” You thought for a moment, trying to think of a channel that Ben would possibly enjoy; then it hit you, causing a smirk to form on your face. “How about Skinamax?”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “What the fuck is Skinamax?” You let out a slight laugh, causing him to raise a brow. “What?”

“You don’t know what Skinamax is?” You asked. “Honestly, I’m slightly surprised.” You held out your hand. “Hand me the remote and I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t you just fucking tell me?” He asked, his facial expression annoyed.

“Because Ben, it’d be more fun to show you.” Your lips turned into a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”

Again, your response earned yet another eyeroll from him. Of course I fucking trust you, he thought. What kind of stupid question is that? “Fine.” He said, handing you the remote.

“Okay, and why couldn’t you of just told me it was just fucking porn?” He asked, his tone sounding a little annoyed with you.

“Because, I thought it would be much more fun to show you.” You turned away from the television and looked at him. “You’ve watched porn before though right? Like, I’m assuming you have cause well…you’re…well you.”

He looked at you briefly before looking back at the screen again. “Have you watched porn before?” He mumbled, mocking your tone. “Of course I fucking have.” He said, a tad louder and a bit more annoyed sounding. He turned back to face you. “Who hasn’t watched porn before?”

You shrugged. “Fair point.” You said. “You know…” you began, as you started inching your way closer to him. “As much as I’d love to continue watching this…interesting movie. There is something I’d much rather be doing.”

He smirked, his full attention on you now. “And what’s that Sweetheart?”

“Well, you did make me a promise this morning.” Your voice was low, your hand inching closer to the hem of his pants.

“I made you a lot of promises this morning.” His voice was low, but not nearly as low as yours.

“But there was one in particular.” Your fingers started slipping into the waistband of his pants as you maintained complete eye contact with him.

“You going to tell me or is it more fun to show me?” He asked, your hand made contact with his cock and you gently wrapped your hand around him. Ben slightly groaned at the contact.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “I think you know the answer.” You whispered.

Without a second to waste, he pulled his sweats down giving you slightly better access as you started moving your hand up and down. You went slow, knowing that it was killing him inside with the pace that you were going at. As he was about to open up his mouth to protest the slow pace, your head went down and you started sucking him off; a slight taste of pre-cum on your tongue. Your hand and mouth started going in tandem with each other; no longer focused on his face, but focusing on what you were doing. “Fuck,” he groaned, and he threw his head back into the couch, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and hands wrapped around him, a feeling that he’d wanted since the moment he laid his eyes on you – despite him knowing how much you hated him at first.

You released him with a pop for a moment; your hand still going. But the loss of your mouth on him caused him to open his eye to look at you. “Ben, you need to be quiet. I don’t want the whole house to hear.” You stated.

Your words gave Ben an idea, and a smirk grew on his face. “Princess, I want them to hear.”

“You…you want them to hear?” Your voice a whisper. “Why?”

“Cause I want your little friend to know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck.” His words made you audibly gulp, and you barely even knew how to respond. Weirdly, the thought turned you on.

“Okay.” Your reply hesitant. Despite the slight hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his cock again; your mouth and hand working in tandem again.

As you worked, the sounds that were coming out of Ben’s mouth weren’t remotely quiet; a mixture of groaning and moaning. His hand gripped your hair slightly, pulling at it gently, messing it up. Between him basically playing with your hair as you blew him, and the sounds that he was making; it encouraged you to pick up the pace a little, and you yourself felt yourself starting to get increasingly more wet. “God, your fucking mouth.” He groaned. He bucked up a little, and when he did that he let himself go; releasing himself into your mouth and down your throat. You usually weren’t a swallower but for him, you made the exception.

Once you helped him ride out his orgasm, you released him with a pop; the two of you making eye contact again. “Lay down Princess,” he demanded, “and spread those legs of yours,” he grinned.

“Yes Sir.” You said, probably a little bit too loud.

The nickname you gave him just made him grin even wider, slightly more evil looking. “Can’t wait to wreck this pussy of yours.” He said, completely pulling your shorts down in one swift movement. He eyed your bare pussy for a moment before smirking up at you, cocking a brow. “Went commando today uh?” You bit your bottom lip, nodding. “Sweetheart, if I would have known, I would have fucked you on the kitchen table this morning just to prove a point.”

“Be-” before you could speak, his point finger started to slowly dip inside of you. “Fuck.” You moaned, slightly whispering.

“You’re fucking soaked Princess.” He said, smugness in his voice. “All this just from blowing me uh?” He added a second finger as they both started going into you a bit deeper, a slight curve to them.

“Y-yes.” You moaned out; his two fingers starting to move slowly in and out of you, a similar pace you had done earlier on him.

“So, tell me this Sweetheart. Are you generally just a cock slut, or are you just a slut for my cock?”

The pace of his fingers started to pick up gingerly; no words were forming in your brain to even respond to his question. He was barely doing anything to you, and you were slightly embarrassed by the way your body was reacting to his touch, but at the same time, he actually knew what he was doing – hitting you in all the right spots. “Just…Fuck…Just for yours.”

“Just for mine what?” He added a third finger, curling them inside of you. All you could do was moan; verging on the sound of pornographic. “Need you to use your words Princess. I know how much you like to talk, don’t hold back on me now.”

“Fuck me…” you mumbled, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m only a slut for your cock Ben.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, seeming unsatisfied with your answer. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite hear you.” The smugness in his voice returned, knowing that he could hear you. You knew what he really meant: your friends couldn’t hear you.

With a small groan, you spoke just a tad louder, hoping it would be loud enough to satisfy him. “I’m only a slut for you cock Ben.”

He grinned. “There it is.” He sounded so proud of himself.

“Ben I’m about to –” you came, not even finishing your sentence, your orgasm practically exploding out of you. Despite the amount of times you’ve had sex, this was the first time you could actually say that you had a mind-blowing orgasm. He continued to move his fingers in and out of you rapidly as you rid out your orgasm.

“Fucking beautiful,” he praised. “I’ll never get fucking tired of seeing a woman cum.”

As soon as you came down from your high, he removed his fingers from you, licking them clean; and you already hated the feeling of not having his fingers inside of you. “Fuck.” You breathed out, your chest rising up and down as you tried catching your breath.

Ben chuckled. “You good there Sweetheart?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah…So…Good…” your voice trailed off.

“Good, cause I’m not done with you just yet.” Before you had the chance to respond, he pulled you by your ankles, sliding you across the couch. Pulling you into his lap, both of your hands rested on his chest, slight heat radiating from it, which strangely felt good against your palms.

Your legs were spread open wide enough that you were able to straddle him; your knees on either side of his thighs resting on the couch. Without any kind of direction from him, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you completely naked; you felt even more vulnerable somehow than you did before. You leaned in, your hands on either side of his face now and kissed him; his hands automatically gripping your hips. Based on the tightness of the grip you knew you’d have bruises, and honestly – you couldn’t care less, you wanted him to leave marks.

The both of you moaned into the kiss, and you started rocking your hips gently, trying to obtain some kind of friction. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s a little needy.” He teased. “You just came Sweetheart.”

“Yeah but…” You kissed his neck, and leaned in close to his ear, “that was on your fingers, not on your cock.”

“And you say I have the dirty mouth.” He laughed a little, removing his hands from your hips. You sat back on his thighs as he took one of his hands and wrapped it around himself, pumping it in his hand a few times. “Going to fill that pussy right up.”

“Please.” Your tone slightly begging.

“So cute when you beg.” He said, his tip teasing your entrance. “You ready for me Sweetheart?” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders, almost as if you were bracing yourself. As he started pushing himself inside of you, you let out a long moan, shutting your eyes. “Fucking love your moans.” He complicated, as he watched your face slightly contort. “Taking me so well too.” He chuckled. “Really are a cock slut uh?”

“Only for you.” You breathed, his cock almost fully inside of you.

“Damn right only for me.” His voice sounded slightly possessive; and the tone turned you on more than you thought it would, and he felt you clench around him. “You like that uh?” You nodded in response. “Good.”

As you started moving your hips, Ben started placing kisses between your breasts, every so often taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The noises you were making were pornographic sounding again; no words really escaping your lips, just moans. Your hand gripped the back of his head, clutching at his hair. “Ben,” you moaned, shutting your eyes as you continued to rock your hips.

He attached his lips to your neck now, slightly nipping and sucking on the skin. Not only were there going to be marks on your hips, there were going to be marks on your neck now too. “Mine,” you heard him mumble; but you weren’t entirely sure if you heard him properly.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he removed his lips from your neck. “You heard me,” his voice possessive again. “You’re mine now.” He said. You weren’t sure if this was bedroom talk or he actually did mean that you were his, and his alone. Either way, you loved the sound of being his – despite the slight alpha/misogynistic undertone to it.

“All yours.” You agreed. He took two of his fingers and started rubbing your clit, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the pressure start to build, and you were insanely close to coming again. “I’m so close.”

“Can’t wait to cum inside of you Princess.” His fingers started picking up the pace, and his hip movements were starting to get erratic – he was close too.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, your own movements matching his erratic ones. “I’m about to –” as you started to cum, his lips latched onto yours, and you moaned into his mouth.

“I’m right there with you.” He said, coming closely after you. The kiss deepened as the two of you rid out your orgasms; his fingers working lazily on your clit.

“Holy shit.” You said, essentially collapsing onto him. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as your chests were pressed up against each other; his arms wrapped around your lower back, his clock still buried inside of you.

“You alright there Sweetheart?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah just…” you started breathing a little heavy again. “Don’t have your stamina.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Cause I can’t have you dyin’ on me.” His tone was joking, but you knew that he would be devastated if anything were to ever happen to you. Because over the course of time he had known you, he had grown to deeply care about you; and it was something that surprised the both of you – hell, it even surprised the rest of the group.

"What the fuck!" You and Ben both turned and saw Hughie standing in the doorway of the living room; his facial expression looked as though he was about to blow a gasket.

Ben rolled his eyes out of annoyance. "Do you mind?" You gently lifted yourself off of him, grabbing a nearby blanket and quickly covered yourself and Ben, although the damage was probably already done.

"Yes! Matter of fact I do mind! This is the second night in a row that I woke up because of the two of you!" He yelled; and you could of sworn you saw a vain bulging from his neck. He was pissed.

Ben laughed, amused by Hughie's reaction. "Now you know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck. Should of kept your mouth shut this morning kid." He grinned, and gave him a wink.

"Seriously? You guys were loud because of what I said this morning?" Hughie's voice was now annoyed. Ben simply just shrugged at his question. "You are such an asshole."

Ben shrugged again. "Worse has been said."

“Hughie I –” you began, but Ben cut you off.

"But, I can promise you this," he got up from the couch, pulling up his pants in the process as he made his way toward Hughie. He placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes, grinning. "You better get used to not fucking sleeping cause your friend has one hell of a pussy and mouth on her." You didn't need to see his face to know the absolute pleasure he had saying that to your best friend.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @zombie-freak If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[hysteria-things]

PLEASE MAKE A MEET AND GREET PART 2

♛ TWO ° •

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you miss matt like crazy, and can’t help but to send a dirty photo to him…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, suggestive, masturbation (female), there might be more idk

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 751

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i swear ghost and BFB part two will be coming soon🫡

thank you for 2.6K btw i love you all very much :)

texting your celebrity crush is like what happens in movies or wattpad, but the fact that you're doing just that still blows your mind. however, it's not as mindblowing when you had sex with said celebrity crush three days ago.

biting your lip, you giggle and tap on your phone like there's no tomorrow.

“are you even watching the movie? you seem to be more intrigued with your phone instead.” hannah says, leaning to the coffee table to grab the remote and pause the TV. “you’re never so glued to your phone. is it a boy? do i know him? what does— is that a hickey?”

pausing mid-type, you place your phone down and try to cover the healing hickey on your neck with your hair. “…no.”

“oh my god, it so is!” she gasps, smiling wide. “who the hell are you fucking? is it the person you're texting? when did it happen?”

“you ask a lot of questions, you know that?” you joke, trying to maneuver this conversation.

“y/n, come on. i’m your best friend. best friends tell each other everything.”

you sigh. she’s right, you guys do tell each other everything. clearing your throat and fidgeting with your hands, you try to find words to explain the recent events in your life.

“so… remember when i went to the bathroom at the sturniolo’s tour? and left you standing outside for an hour?”

she rolls her eyes. “yeah.”

“what if i told you that i actually didn’t go to the bathroom, and matt snuck me on the tour bus and… bentmeoverthetableandfuckedtheshitoutofme?”

she looks at you with eyebrows furrowed, confused as hell. “what?”

you exhale. “matt bent me over the table and may or may not have fucked the shit out of me?”

her face now morphs to shock, trying to read your body language to see if you’re lying. “what the fuck? is that why you came out limping and looking like you got manhandled?”

“yes.”

she blinks, shaking her head to take in this sudden information. “was the dick at least good?”

biting your lip, you nod. “duh.”

“hello?” you say innocently into the phone, running your hand from your stomach into your underwear.

matt’s leaning against the wall in a hallway that the venue has, far away so nobody can see nor hear him. “hi, y/n.” he chuckles.

you pout, rubbing your clit hard to get some sort of sensation rubbing through your body. “hi, matt.”

he licks his teeth and smiles smugly, knowing exactly why you wanted him to call. “whatcha doing?”

with fluttering eyes, your finger moves to your folds, moving up and down on your slit slowly. your breath hitches. “t-touching myself.” you whine. “thinking about you.”

as much as matt wants to do it himself, he can’t. the ache in his pants will last until after the show, that’s for sure.

“is that so?” he teases. you feel your wetness start to pool. “what’re thinking about, hm?”

“about the other night.” you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip. after a few long strokes, you’re wet enough to slip a finger inside.

he sighs, adjusting the phone on his ear. “you mean when i bent you over the table and bred you? or when i tongue-fucked you to where you couldn’t stand?”

moaning loudly, you insert a second finger and move them rapidly. “b-both. god, i miss the way you feel.”

“i wish i could fuck you dumb again.” he says lowly, hearing your pants and arousal all in one. “screaming so pathetically beneath me. isn’t that right?”

even though he can’t hear you, you still nod your head, arching your back when that spot gets hit at just the right angle. “yes, matt!” you moan loudly. “i miss you. i miss you so much! fuck, i’m going to cum. please let me cum.”

you ramble on as he stands there quietly to listen. the way your sounds get louder and faster the more your orgasm builds. “go ahead. nobody’s stopping you.”

clawing at the sheets with your eyes rolling back, you rut your hips on your fingers when you feel your release coat them.

“good luck tonight,” you mumble, trying to catch your breath.

he laughs, checking the time with a sigh. “i have to go. i’ll make sure to win for you.”

you hang up the phone, and not even a minute later, a picture comes rolling in. you love that he’s acting like you didn’t just cum to his voice.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings

[three-realms-archive]

A Weak Wrist

Second oneshot of Scars, Wounds and Minor Inconveniences: a oneshot series featuring slice-of-life snapshots of the aftermath of Lesson 16. Naturally, features spoilers for OG Obey Me! up until that point. Each oneshot will have an associated headcannons post, which will be linked when it goes up!

“You will tell me what happened, Leviathan.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at the scene before him. You, on the floor and clutching your wrist. Leviathan, on the other side of the room and in demon form, holding a first aid kit he had taken out of the cabinet. Lucifer had opened the door just as Leviathan had taken out a bandage and started swinging his arm, as if to throw it to you as if feeding a scared, wild animal. When Lucifer had asked, his younger brother suddenly couldn’t look him in the eye - instead, Levi looks to you for a response.

You say nothing. This is hardly new to Lucifer, who had noticed that he only tends to see you in shared classes or family dinners recently. He’d watch you joke and laugh with his brothers so easily, which was pretty good news. Finally, the human was behaving themselves. Strangely, though, Levi’s face takes an uncharacteristically serious expression. As if steeling himself for your sake.

“W-We, uh, were trying out this new video-game I got for family game night. There’s, like, a mat… A mat! With arrows you hop on. To, um, play.” Levi explains. “But they… they fell. Their wrist, they fell on it and it got hurt. Badly.”

“I’m fine, Levi. My wrist is - ah, ah - weak, anyway.” You try to respond, growling through gritted teeth when you try to roll your wrist around. Your heart softens when Levi mumbles what seems to be “… because of me.” and shake your head. You clamp your eyes shut to prepare and attempt - again - to rotate your hand about your wrist.

The pain is brutal… but at least it distracts from the even-more painful memories of a quiz with a demon; and the injury to your wrist that resulted in it being so prone to injury.

“You’re not going anywhere like that. Here.” Lucifer sighs, massaging his forehead. Weak, vulnerable humans. He doesn’t see you freeze. “Take my arm. We’ll go to the dining room, get you some water and sit you down with an ice pack.”

“…”

You don’t respond. This is hardly new to Lucifer, yet he finds himself irritated.

“MC. That’s not a request.” He raises his voice, moving closer and offering his hand to you - and you flinch. Away from him. Lucifer is confused because what had he done, other than offer you assistance?

You, frozen as solid as ice, provide little to no answer to that question. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer notices Leviathan gulp, holding his breath, eyes darting between his older brother and his best friend. His concentration flickering and one can almost see the imaginary cursor struggling to choose between two options of the visual novel scene playing in his mind.

‘Say something.’

‘Say nothing.’

Levi chooses the latter, but turns to you. He opens his arms rather awkwardly. And then, you have to make the choice instead.

Inwardly, Lucifer huffs. Levi had caused your injury then, and he had caused it now. And offering a hug, of all things? How naive. Lucifer let his eyes meet yours, not feeling the need to offer anything more than he already had.

… But Lucifer feels something foreign and unpleasant in his chest when he watches you walk across the room - and into Leviathan’s arms. He watches the third-born brother stutter in shock, taking a few minutes to process - before scrambling to meet you halfway. And why wouldn’t he need to process that? Why wouldn’t Leviathan be surprised, after being the reason for your weak wrist in the first place? After all; Lucifer had been right there, the eldest’s arm slightly bent at the elbow, ready for you to place your hand. Ready to lend you support. Irritatingly, annoyingly ready to do anything for you… and for you to do anything - anything - remotely significant to him.

Ready to receive the forgiveness you seemed to give to everyone else so damn easily over the last few months. Had you forgotten that all of his family, in one way or another, had a part to play in your hurt just as much as Belphegor?

You, Diavolo’s exchange student, had finally been behaving, ever since Belphie. Lucifer had been proud of himself for taming you, because murder was commonplace in the Devildom. He had thought that witnessing it for yourself was just the lesson you needed to stay away from danger. You never speak to him unless spoken to. You had stay in your room when he was home. You freeze when he’s near. You let yourself be cradled by demons who had almost snapped your arm in the midst of a fit of envy; and would rather that than even come within six metres of his arm. You stayed far away from danger. You stayed farther away from Lucifer. And the combination of his pride and distance from you had made admitting that impossible for him. Admitting that his brothers had been spending the past few months trying; reaching out to you.

Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, had not.

So - having met in the middle of the room - Lucifer watches as you stay with Leviathan. Levi doesn’t quite know what to do with his arms, so the two of you huddle together like penguins looking for warm, under Lucifer’s icy stare. Every now and again, you cautiously peer over Levi’s shoulder. Your knuckles turn white from gripping Levi’s hoodie fabric. Your eyes meet with those of the Avatar of Pride - you immediately look away.

Lucifer stands apart from you, still by the room’s entrance. The arm he had offered for you to is retracted, as it’s nowhere near enough to reach you. And nowhere near a hug.

A horrid, awful truth dawns on him, making his stomach drop like butterflies turning to lead inside.

His would only ever allow him to take half a step forward.

And, in return, you would take ten steps back - far, far away from him. Even farther than from the demon who had broken your wrist.

And it would be a long, long time before you would let him get close enough to reach you.

…

…

“… Lucifer.” You murmur; voice barely above a whisper. His eyes meet to yours faster than he would like. “C-Could you, um… Could you get me a glass of water? Please.”

He stays there, for a few seconds. His breath hitches.

He… eventually nods, turning to leave the room. He gets the water; and doesn’t realise he’s slightly rushing.

He returns a few minutes later. He sees that you’ve detached yourself from his brother and, when your eyes meet his, you take half a step forward. He glances away.

He doesn’t look at you when he makes his way across the room to where you’re standing. Nor does he realise he’s walking quicker than normal.

Suddenly, the sound of gentle scales scraping against wood echoes to break the deafening silence and Lucifer finds Levi’s tail at his feet. Right in front of you, and right in front of him. A barrier.

He glances at Levi, one of his beloved baby brothers, and sees that he’s holding his breath again. His eyes are trained on you.

And when you smile at Leviathan, your shoulders relaxing a millimetre, Lucifer realises this is as far as he goes.

… Then it happens.

He hands you the glass of water.

You take it.

He feels your fingers brush. The tiny, minuscule contact sends electricity through his gloves, down his fingertips, and the feeling surges through his arms and straight to his heart.

After a few minutes, Leviathan gradually begins to say something about new video-game suggestions for family game night. The words are hazy and unclear - Lucifer’s too busy focusing on how it felt to be near you; to touch you; to hear you speak to him without being spoken to first, for the first time in months. The first time in what had felt like millennia.

It would be a long time before you would let him get close enough to reach you.

But, as you give him the smallest of smiles as thanks for the water, he’s somehow reassured that the time would come.

The least he could do, after all he’s done, is wait.

(i know wanted to see some lucifer-centric stuff, so here it is! they specifically mentioned mammon and satan, and those will come in a later chapter since i more see them as stuff lucifer doesn’t pick up on; or, at least, stuff that doesn’t require him to face you directly, so he gets to keep his pride. all of the brothers have hurt mc in one way or another, so i wanted something clear and concrete and emotional that set lucifer apart. i figured, the phrase ‘to keep your pride’ is used often used to stop people from apologising, taking responsibility or doing something with humility - so i figured it would be the same with the avatar of pride. he won’t be the first to address it.)

(please look forward to the next chapters, as well as their accompanying headcanon chapters! some people have also asked to be tagged in the posts relating to this series, so please comment below if you’d like to be tagged too)

(finally, massive thanks to @kittylilyheart for submitting the original idea and check out Phantom Pain in the pinned masterlist post to see it! my ideas inbox is still open, so please read the rules in the pinned post and submit something obey-me related you’d like to see me write!)

Taglist:

@kittylilyheart @gallantys

[chalkscene]

can i request fruba’s reaction to the first time they hug you when the curse is broken without you knowing? like it’s a complete surprise and you’re so happy? thank you so much!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS!!! i don’t usually take requests to take the pressure of writing off of me but i just loved this prompt sm i couldn’t say no 😭

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatori sohma & shigure sohma (separate)

after witnessing your failed attempts at making one rice ball, KYO suddenly decides to join you in the kitchen, “pay attention. i’ll only teach you once.” you fight back a smile because you know he’ll keep teaching you as long as you keep asking but you don’t point that out lest he change his mind. you expect kyo to grab a handful of rice. instead, he stands right behind you and cages you in his arms, putting his hands over yours to help you mold the clump of rice you already have in your palms. when you’re reminded of his curse, you quickly spin on your heels and push him away, dropping your rice ball in the process. to your surprise, kyo doesn’t seem remotely offended by your action. he’s more focused on the clusters of rice now scattered around your feet. a click of his tongue hits your ears before you hear him say, “you just wasted a good rice ball.” however, the expression on his face is free of disappointment—a small smile slowly curls on his lips as he waits for a realization to dawn on you and eventually, it does. “you’re…” you mutter in disbelief, caressing his face as if to convince yourself you’re not dreaming, “you’re not a cat…” at your reaction, kyo’s chuckles cuts through the momentary silence before he holds you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head in wordless confirmation—this is real. and you immediately return his affection, not wanting to wait another second to bask in his touch. you don’t know which higher power to thank but you still find yourself silently expressing your gratitude like a prayer now that kyo’s curse is lifted. when you pull away, he reaches for the bowl of rice behind you. “this isn’t enough for the two of us,” he deadpans as if a life-changing moment didn’t just happen. you’re itching to ask him when he knew but you deem it a conversation for another time when a suggestion suddenly pops in your head. “we can go out and celebrate instead,” you say cheekily, “i’ve always wanted to try this cat café.” kyo rolls his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “what?” you defensively exclaim in between giggles, “cats won’t cling to you anymore.”

ever since YUKI went away for college, the only time you’ve really had with each other is when he comes home to visit. you usually have an itinerary prepared but this time, yuki decides to ditch all that. “you have a surprise for me?” you teased him once on video call. yuki simply shrugged, laughing. you tried to coax it out of him but he didn’t budge. “if i told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he countered and when you gave him a pout, he added, “i’ll just see you at home, okay? i love you.” so here you are now, sat in your living room while you wait for yuki to arrive. thankfully, it’s not long before you hear a click from the lock of your front door. “yuki!” you beam at the sight of him and he immediately mirrors your expression. you’re about to take his bags when he swings them out of your reach, carelessly dropping his things to the floor before he snakes his arms around your middle. in a panic, you freeze in his touch and soon, you’re attempting to shove him off of you. “yuki, your curse!” you cry but he only snuggles further into your body. and that’s when it hits you. the boy you love hasn’t turned into a rodent which can only mean one thing—there’s no more curse. you don’t know when or how and as hard as you try, you’re unable to form words to ask yuki about it with your emotions beginning to take over you. yuki only chuckles at your lack of response, “surprise.”

snap. HATORI immediately stops in his tracks upon the sudden sensation, “did you feel that?” “huh?” hatori is almost sure what he felt but he decides to brush it off at your confusion. “tori, you okay?” you ask, raising your hands to cradle his face but he involuntarily flinches at the closeness in case it triggers the curse. “sorry,” you quickly add. he shakes his head, declining your apology, “it’s fine.” you don’t talk about it any further on the rest of the way home but you’ve already reached your doorstep and he still seems distracted. you don’t want to part ways like this so you try again, “are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he doesn’t answer. “hatori?” “can i…” he starts before trailing off hesitantly. he doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence. without a word, he steps closer until there’s barely an inch between you then he wraps you in his embrace. “hatori, no!” you try to push him away in panic but you catch yourself in that same instant when you realize he hasn’t turned into a seahorse. holding your breaths, you both wait in silence for the curse to take effect but the next thing you feel is hatori’s arms tightening around you, making it clear he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. before your emotions can get the better of you, a chuckle is bubbling past your lips in relief, releasing any tension that has filled the air. “you have a lot of cuddles to make up for,” you tease hatori but your voice comes out weakly as you keep your tears at bay. and with you in his arms, hatori has never felt so grateful, “then let’s stay like this for a little while.”

“hi,” you beam at SHIGURE the moment he enters your home, “how was your day?” he doesn’t answer right away as if to ponder your question. “it was…” he momentarily trails off before adding, “interesting.” your eyebrows knot in confusion and that’s when you notice something’s off about him but before you can pose another question, shigure leans closer until he’s almost just about your eye level. “can i have a kiss?” he asks before he’s pouting his lips, sporting an effective pair of puppy eyes as you would expect from the dog incarnate. but all that effort only earns him a dubious look from you which elicits a dramatic sigh out of his mouth, “you know i’ve had a long day.” you can’t help but snort at his sulking but you eventually grant him his request. you’re careful to maintain a distance to avoid triggering the curse but in a swift and sudden motion, shigure pulls you flush against him as he kisses you with more fervor. your poor attempt to push him away does little to nothing against his strong arms that he can’t help but smirk against your lips. soon, he’s pulling away, his visage looking brazen as ever, “what’s wrong?” completely stunned and stupefied, you struggle to form the words on your tongue but a single thought plays in your mind—the curse is broken. when your eyes begin to well up, shigure’s cocky grin is immediately replaced with a smile so sincere that it’s such a striking contrast to the words that come out of his mouth, “we can do whatever we want.” then he’s kissing you again.

[lovexdeepspace]

hi! can you pls do an alternative version of the breakup of the l&ds men?? instead of making up and forgiving them, reader just flat out rejects them and kicks them out or reader has found someone new and the boys get a taste of their own medicine??

also love your work!!

“life without you.” (v2)

summary; once your trust is broken, there’s nothing xavier, zayne, or rafayel can do to undo the damage they’ve done.

warnings; angst, sadness, heartbreak

note; as much as i — along with others — needed a happy ending to the original post, the itch to do this was in the back of my head and i’m glad others wanted it too! ( credit to @neverlandlostchild for helping me immensely with this idea, i am so so grateful towards them and @noclue-0 for advocating for this idea alongside anon!! )

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

part 1 | happier ending

༊*·˚ . xavier

curled up on the couch with remote in hand, you were absentmindedly scrolling through movies when there was a loud knock at your door.

food’s finally here, you thought excitedly while kicking the blanket off your legs. you grabbed your wallet and fished out a ten to tip the driver before heading to the door.

“thank you so — much.”

the last word fell flat as you opened the door only to find xavier standing there. he looked at you with half-lidded, tired eyes and a tight-lipped grimace as you took in the shell of a man standing before you.

his clothes were wrinkled and stained; his hair was messy and it was evident he hadn’t showered in at least a couple of days. his cheeks were red and tear-stained and you couldn’t help but think that he looked downright pitiful.

“xavier, what’re you doing here?” you asked, pocketing the money before crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought i made myself clear.”

the blonde rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “i know but i just couldn’t get you off my mind. i miss you and what we had.”

you raised a brow at him. “things with her didn’t work out?”

“she doesn’t matter,” xavier retorted with a frown. he stepped closer to you and you stepped back just as fast. “you’re all that matters to me and —”

he stopped as a voice behind you called your name and, a moment later, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you felt your face flush as sylus pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“food’s here?” he asked you as his eyes moved from you to xavier. noticing the lack of food and the subdued yet very evident fury in xavier’s eyes, he quickly added, “guess not.”

“i’m —” xavier started but you held up a hand to cut him off.

“i think it’s best if you left, xavier,” you interrupted, leaning back against sylus. “we’re trying to have a relaxing evening.”

xavier faltered, giving you an incredulous stare before nodding slowly. “right. i guess i’ll leave, then.”

you gave him an unenthusiastic half-wave and shut the door in his face, leaving him alone in the hallway of your apartment building.

he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes as he heard you and sylus laughing about something behind the closed door before forcing himself to walk away.

༊*·˚ . rafayel

with the days finally getting warmer you refused to stay holed up in your apartment all the time, often opting for outings to the park for some fresh air.

on a particularly fateful day, you were standing in the shade of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, admiring the picnic you had set up so perfectly. with your hands on your hips you racked your mental checklist, making sure everything was set out and ready for your —

“well, well, long time no see.”

shit.

pinching the bridge of your nose, you didn’t even bother to look over your shoulder as you addressed rafayel with a dull, “what do you want?”

rafayel clicked his tongue, sidling up to you. “aww, c’mon, that’s no way to treat your favorite artist.”

“you say that as if you have any right to be my favorite anything,” you retorted, side-eyeing him with a frown. he was watching you with that usual cocky grin but you could tell time had not been the kindest to him — dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair, and this awful odor that made you gag as he moved closer.

“about that,” he muttered, trying (and failing) to put on that usual innocent guise that would’ve had a more naive version of you falling head over heels, “it’s been a while since i’ve last seen you. i’ve changed, i promise. i’ll be a better —”

“you won’t be anything, not to me at least,” you snapped, stepping away from him. “go run back to whatever her name is, since you wanted her so bad. i’m waiting for someone and don’t need you scaring them away looking like a lost puppy.”

rafayel staggered backwards at your harsh words, his demeanor changing as the idea of you seeing someone else really sunk in.

“who are you —”

“ah, fuck.”

rafayel’s jaw clenched as he slowly turned, eyes ablaze as they settled on thomas. his manager offered a sheepish grin before quickly heading to your side, muttering an apology to you.

“i can’t believe this,” the artist hissed, looking between the two of you. you shrugged nonchalantly and drove the point further by placing your hand in thomas’, slotting your fingers between his. “you - and you —!!”

“you made your choice,” you said plainly. “now, would you please leave? i’d like to enjoy my afternoon.”

rafayel gaped at you before muttering something under his breath, turning on his heel and storming away. the last thing he needed was for you to see the way tears had started to form in his eyes or the ugly sobbing that came seconds later as soon as he was out of sight.

༊*·˚ . zayne

you had finally found some balance in your life, a rarity that you held onto desperately. things had finally calmed down months after your breakup with zayne and you had bounced back in ways you didn’t even imagine.

hell, you even found yourself putting yourself out there and — with your newfound confidence — things were going really well for you!

so well, in fact, that you were sitting in the destiny cafè with a book in hand while you waited for your partner to return with your order. so captivated by the text, you didn’t look up when the chair across from you was once again occupied. it was only when the occupant said your name did you grimace and take a mental note of the page number before closing the book and setting it down in front of you.

“gods i do not have the energy to talk to you right now,” you said bluntly, putting your head in your hands. “or ever, for that matter.”

“well, hello to you as well,” zayne replied, sitting up straighter in his chair as you took your hands away to glare at him. “you look beautiful.”

“i know,” you deadpanned. giving him a once-over, you can’t see much difference from the last time you saw him save for the fact he looks more sleep deprived than usual. “now, let me be direct: i don’t want to talk to you.”

zayne sighed. “fine, but i need to talk to —”

he was cut off by the soft thunk! of two mugs being firmly set down on the table.

“here you are, pipsqueak.” caleb slid one mug in your direction with a sweet smile then turned to zayne. his expression quickly became menacing hidden behind a fake smile. “i’d say it’s nice to see you again, zayne, but i’m about three seconds from punching your face in. get out of my seat and leave my partner alone.”

zayne’s jaw clenched as he looked from caleb to you. “i just need to talk to them.”

caleb laughed and leaned in a little the smile dropping from his face. “you don’t need to do anything, zayne. so how about you get out of my seat and go yap to that girl you were getting all handsy with, hm?”

the air was thick and you could only watch with a smirk as zayne stood and quickly exited the cafè. caleb reclaimed his seat and reached across the table to give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“you okay?” he asked, grabbing his mug with his other hand and taking a sip.

you nodded and squeezed his hand in return. “better now.”

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.3

Summary: You admit a few things to Sam, and finally she starts to feel a little more normal. Almost as if Ghostface was truly a thing of the past. Almost.

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: mentions of Scream-typical violence, mentions of trauma, light swearing Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

Oh you had messed up. You had messed up so badly. Why hadn’t you told Sam about Ghostface all those weeks ago? It was certainly far too late to tell her now, it had happened last year. Okay, slight exaggeration, you had simply passed into the New Year last week but still!

And now it was too late. You didn’t know why, it just was.

“Can you hand me that pen?” Sam asked.

You hummed and handed her what was on the table, still staring off into the distance. The television was on in your apartment and you couldn’t have told a single soul what was on. Perhaps it was the news. It was usually the news, you liked to keep up to date with everything.  If you had time, you would even split the screen between all news stations so you could compare all sides of information.

It was a miracle you had managed to keep Sam as long as you had.

“I think I’ll fuck J on the coffee table in an hour, is that okay?”

“Yes darling, whatever you want,” you said as your mind continued to race through possibilities.

You straightened up and quickly turned to look at her.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, her words finally forcing its way through the plethora of thoughts to the forefront of your mind. “No, it’s absolutely not okay.”

Sam smiled and placed the remote on the table. Which you supposed you had handed her instead of a pen. Because of course you had, why would you hand her the pen she had so clearly asked for? She placed a warm hand on your jaw and you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“What’s going on in your head?” She asked far softer than she had any right to. “You’re usually not this distracted.”

You didn’t want to tell her. It felt like a betrayal of her trust that you hadn’t told her right after it had happened, how could you come back from it now? What excuse did you have other than you were afraid? Being afraid certainly wasn’t going to win you any favours, not with the Ghostface Murder family.

A mental note popped up to never, never call them that to their faces.

You should tell her.

No you shouldn’t.

Yes you should.

No.

Fine.

“I saw Ghostface the night I was buying your stockings,” you said rather unceremoniously.

Sam looked at you like you had grown a second head. Oh lord, had you grown a second head? Oh you bet you had, you absolute fool. Your mother had told you time and time again, there were consequences to lying. And now that you had finally come clean, you were facing the consequences. You hoped Sam still liked you with a second head.

“You saw Ghostface?” She asked in a whisper.

“I know I should have told you,” you said quickly, “but to tell you the truth, I was too afraid to tell anyone so instead I simply kept my mouth shut.”

Sam still said nothing. She almost looked afraid, which you could understand. You yourself were rather afraid as well. There had been no news of Ghostface running around New York again, but you knew for a fact he was out and about. And judging by the look on Sam’s face, she knew it was the truth as well.

Oh, this was precisely why you had kept it from her! You hadn’t intended to terrify her, oh no, quite the contrary. You wanted nothing more than for her to not fear the masked delinquent that habited wherever she existed. It was rather unfair when you started to think about it. No surprise at all that Tara was untrustful of… well, everyone.

“Promise me you won’t try to find him again,” Sam finally said, her voice far more vulnerable than it had any right to be.

“My dear,” you said, doing your best to emulate her tone. You reached out to hold her hand in a tight grasp. “I would rather defend my thesis a second time than try to find that… hoodlum again.”

Her laugh, though nervous, was beautiful. There was nothing quite like the sound of Sam’s laughter. Even when unsettled, there was a heartiness to it that called to your soul. It touched the deepest parts of you, coaxing them out of their hiding spots until you were laid bare before her, eagerly awaiting her next move.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called Ghostface a “hoodlum” before,” she said before squeezing your hand.

“Well they should,” you said, all joking put aside. “Or perhaps even a coward,” you continued. “Only a coward prevents their victim from seeing the face of their attacker.”

Sam leaned against your arm as she grabbed her textbook again. “You’re talking pretty big for someone who was supposedly terrified of him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t get within one hundred feet of him,” you clarified. “I’m bold, not brave, my love.”

Her weight settled into you a little more as she pulled her knees up and rested the textbook on top of them. She was doing her best to stay calm; that was what gave her away. The faux-relaxation and attempt to act like you hadn’t just been talking about the person that had terrorised not only her, but her family for years.

And shame on you for bringing it back up again.

You wrapped an arm around her, allowing her to truly sink into you as you both continued your studies. It was not, nor would it ever be, an easy thing to live with. You hadn’t experienced it long, but you could already imagine the constant horror. There was something horrific, not about the immediate threat, but about the ever-looming fear that it could be a threat.

Maybe Tara’s suspicion of you was making more and more sense.

—---

Days passed by without even the slightest hint of Ghostface returning. You kept the news on (when Sam was away) in case there was talk of any familiar murders, but there was nothing. Well, nothing outside of the usual murder and carnage that could be found all over New York City. The more you watched the local news, the more convinced you were that you were not living within a safe city.

Then there was the neverending curiosity that desperately clawed itself up from the deepest recesses of your brain. You hadn’t wanted to think of that… that criminal. Not his motives, his history, none of it. There had been an attempt to push it back down. You had even asked your mother for advice, not wanting to bring it up to Sam in an effort - however futile - to keep her away from it all. Again.

She had not been on your side.

“Just ask her, dear,” your mother said. In the background of the call, you could hear Jeopardy playing on the old television. “If you want the knowledge, you ask the expert.”

You sighed as you flopped down on your own couch. “I don’t want to upset her though.”

Subconsciously, you turned on Jeopardy to watch it with your parents. Just like old times.

“She’ll tell you if it upsets her,” she said. Then, quieter, “what is Metamorphoses.”

“Gosh darn, hon, at least give me a chance to guess it,” you heard your father say. It was a faux complaint; his laugh gave him away.

“He needs to guess faster,” you mumbled, not entirely to anyone in particular.

“Did ya hear that?” Your mother started to blab. “Our little Doctor says you need to guess faster.” She barely contained her giggle.

“Don’t tell him that,” you huffed.

“Well I’m sorry we’re not all fancy pants doctors, kiddo,” he said, far too loud. He still couldn’t really comprehend how phones worked. At least he tried. “Takes some of us a bit of time to think, ya know?”

“What is the knee,” your mother said.

“See?” Your dad groaned. “Got me all distracted, I can’t keep up.”

“Then let me let you go,” you said quickly before either one of your parents could say anything else.

“Don’t forget to ask Samantha,” your mother said with an air of nonchalance that you only dreamed of achieving.

“I will,” you said. The commercial had ended and you knew if you waited much longer, you’d hear your parents arguing over the answer again. “I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.”

“Tell Samantha she needs to watch Jeopardy with us some time,” your dad called out.

“Good night,” you insisted.

“Night, hon,” both of your parents mumbled before you finally managed to end the call.

You loved them, you really did. But the last thing you were going to do anytime soon was invite Sam to watch Jeopardy. You wanted to keep a girlfriend, not lose one. Although maybe it would be the mundanity that she needed. There was nothing less exciting than watching game shows with your parents, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Who is Castro,” you mumbled to yourself before the screen showed your exact answer.

It was truly amazing you had kept a girlfriend for as long as you had so far.

—---

“You’re quiet,” Sam said softly.

You looked up from the abyss that was your wine. The restaurant of the week was a bit more luxurious, “fancy,” as J called it. Tara called it “ridiculous,” but you kept your mouth shut; she would be going on a date to the same place within the month. Her opinion didn’t change the fact that it was a lovely restaurant, only made more beautiful by the woman sitting across from you.

“I’m sorry,” you said just as softly. “I’m just thinking.”

She leaned forward on her arms. “Anything in particular?”

Yes, your mind started, would you truly consider yourself a child of Ghostface? After all, Billy Loomis is technically the forefather of the Ghostface lineage, but he didn’t raise you. Would you still consider him your father? Or, perhaps he is your father but not your dad. Some people make that distinction, you know. Does such a thought bother you-

“-My parents are coming to visit in two weeks,” you said with a calm smile that contradicted your internal monologue. “Would you like to meet them?”

Now that made Sam freeze. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at you. If you looked closer, you almost thought you saw her jaw nearly drop. Oh, so she could fight off Ghostface twice and yet she couldn’t meet your parents? They weren’t so bad! Well, not really, just in a different way. Okay, maybe they were a little intimidating, but not in a bad way!

“Are you afraid of my parents?” You asked as you both sat up, sitting back far enough for the waiter to place your food before you. He pursed his lips and attempted not to smile.

“I’m not afraid of them,” she said indignantly. “I’ve just,” she shrugged, “never had to meet someone’s parents before.”

“Never?” You asked. It was easy enough to maintain eye contact - which your mother claimed was important during serious conversations - while picking at your food. “Not once?”

“Not really, no,” she said. She, however, was not making eye contact. “I mean, there was a boyfriend or two in highschool, but I already knew their parents so it doesn’t count.”

“What about Agent Reed?” You asked before taking another bite of your dinner.

Sam smiled softly. “Already knew her parents too.”

“Right, right,” you said with your own nod before finally looking down at your food. You had nearly forgotten what you had ordered to begin with.

You supposed you couldn’t blame her for being worried. No, you couldn’t blame her at all. Though not quite on the same level - although it completely was - you had been as terrified to meet Tara. Though not her parent, Tara was the only family she had left, aside from the twins. That was terrifying enough without technically being a parent.

Then there was the fear that, although you knew Sam would never admit it aloud, she was afraid of parents. Perhaps it was from the fear that they wouldn’t approve of her as her own mother had made painfully clear. There was no gentle way to tell her that her mother was not a good mother. Parents were rarely disappointed in their children, even on the worst days.

Not every family was as tragic as hers.

“Would it help if I told you about them?” You asked slowly. “Then you can decide if you would like to meet them or not.”

Sam chewed her food thoughtfully before looking up at you through her eyelashes. You hated when she did that, truly you did. It made you fold within an instant. She knew it too. Samantha Carpenter knew what she could do to you, and she used her wiles shamelessly. A femme fatale indeed.

“That would actually be nice,” she finally said. There was a raspiness to her voice that she kept reserved for whenever she wanted something.

You didn’t know what exactly she wanted, but you would have given her the world just to find out.

“Alright then,” you said softly, almost inaudibly as you swallowed harshly. “Where to start?”

Throughout the rest of the evening, you told her of your parents. Of their childhoods, or at least what you were aware of, and their accomplishments. You spun tales of their “wild years,” as they had called it back in the ‘70s. She slowly scrolled through the photos on your phone, the ones you had scanned from their physical photos.

By the time you had ordered dessert - a tiramisu that was to die for - you had moved your chair closer to hers. You had told her of their professions; your mother was a librarian at the small elementary school, and your father worked at the local pharmacy. Nothing fancy, nothing to brag about, but they were proud of their jobs.

All the while, Sam listened intently. You could feel her eyes on you the entire time you talked. It was as if she was staring into your soul, trying to pick apart what could be a lie and what was fact. A painful realisation of just how deep her familial trauma ran, even though she and Tara would never admit it aloud.

“That’s about it, really,” you finally said with a shrug. The signed check had been sitting in front of you for far longer than you could say. “My parents’ entire story in the span of a singular dinner date.”

You… wouldn’t think too hard about the fact you had spent an entire dinner date talking about your parents.

“They sound like good people,” Sam said. Her hand was warm in yours.

“They’re rather eccentric in their own way,” you said, “but they mean well.”

You didn’t ask the question yet. It would be up to Sam whether she wanted to meet your parents or not, and you certainly weren’t going to push her one way or another. This was wholly her decision, you had simply laid out enough for her to make an informed decision of her own.

“Would they like me?” She asked softly.

There was a desperation on her face that she rarely let show. Sam was a tough woman; not just physically. But something about this was making her second guess herself and her own abilities. It was preposterous, though you knew one couldn’t fight their own insecurities so easily. The very look on her face broke your heart.

You lifted her hand to cup her cheek, which she eagerly leaned into.

“My darling,” you said gently, “they already do.”

The smallest of smiles lifted the corners of her mouth. Just as with every time you saw her smile, you knew you would do anything for her if she but looked at you the way she was in that moment. All bright eyes and carefree smile and as beautiful as the day you had first seen her.

“I want to meet them,” she said. “If it’s alright.”

You leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “It’s always alright.”

—---

Your parents loved Sam.

On top of that, your parents loved Sam and Tara. The literal moment they had found out Sam had a little sister, they had demanded you have her over as well. You had done your best not to eavesdrop, but when Sam called it was clear Tara wanted no part of it. However, for better or worse, the decision was made and Sam agreed to bring Tara over the next evening.

Then you all made the mistake of mentioning J. You should have known better, truly you should have. You knew your parents and their proclivity for practically adopting everyone into the family. They had picked it up in the ‘70s and had never gone back. Tara was practically blackmailed into bringing J with her the next night.

Your parents took to all of them like they were blood.

“You three better start practising,” your dad pointed out when the three newest family members were unusually silent while The Price is Right played in the background. “We only take it easy on ya the first time.”

“Dad,” you warned as you continued putting up Trivial Pursuit.

Your mom had wiped the floor with everyone, as usual.

“Don’t listen to him, hon,” your mom said. She was sitting proudly on her Winner’s Chair, as she had dubbed it after only the second win of the night. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“You sure about that?” J asked, their accent almost a comical contrast to your mother’s. “I felt like a fish outta water.”

“Practice makes perfect,” your mom said with a smile that was far too cheery for the humiliation she had instilled upon you all.

You would never forgive her for embarrassing you in front of Sam.

“We should get going,” Tara said rather reluctantly. “We have to be somewhere in the morning.”

“Where?” J asked.

The disappointment on Tara’s face was worthy of a picture.

“Brunch with your parents,” she said quietly.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” J said. Their voice, on the other hand, was far too loud for the situation. It was rather comical; you didn’t know how those two had ended up together, but their contrast was a work of art. “We gotta go.”

“Before ya head out,” your dad said as everyone stood up to tell them bye, “we gotta hug it out since we’re leavin’ tomorrow.”

J and Tara shared a look before looking at you. Right. None of them were really touchy-feely people. Being around your parents for the week had erased that possibility from your mind. With your bunch, you were all touching, hugging, patting each other on the back, whatever you could get away with. There hadn’t even been a thought in your mind that everyone else was a bit hesitant with their physical affection.

“You don’t have to,” you said softly with a shake of your head.

“Oh, are ya not a hugger?” Your mom asked.

“How’s about a handshake, bud?” Your dad said just as quickly.

“Handshake works great,” J said with their stereotypical toothy grin.

Your parents shook both J’s and Tara’s hands, telling them how lovely it was to meet them, inviting them over for Christmas and Easter and 4 of July and every other holiday they could think of. You walked the both of them out of the apartment while your parents continued to shout invitations to them.

Come over if ya need to get away for a weekend.

I’ll mail ya both some homemade cookies soon.

Expect somethin’ for your birthdays.

They didn’t stop offering things until the door closed behind the couple and it was only Sam left. Not that it stopped your parents, of course, they just simply turned their invitations towards her. Your parents were overwhelming, you knew they were. They meant well, they were just… a lot.

Yet Sam managed to handle it with grace and charm, and you simply fell more and more in love with her. She had your parents laughing, smiling, cracking jokes that they normally wouldn’t when they were alone with you. Something about her brought out a slightly less reserved side of them that you didn’t think you had ever seen.

And when she looked up and met your eyes as they continued talking with her, there was a familiar sparkle that you didn’t see as often as you would like, especially after hearing that Ghostface was back. She looked like your Sam, the one who had joked with you and teased you about your proclivity for books. The one you had woken up with last summer without a single care in the world.

The one you were utterly devoted to and would have sacrificed anything to make happy. That was your Sam once again.

—---

It was a beautiful late-winter day. The air was still a bit chilly, and you were bundled tightly in your warm coat that went down to your ankles. One of your hands was shoved deep into the pockets while the other held a small bouquet of flowers. The sweet bodega owner on the corner of your street was notorious for having the most beautiful flowers, and you now had to agree.

You were supposed to be home grading essays while Sam studied. One of the few relegated nights a week where you were both at your own homes. But you had missed her during the day, and you wouldn’t apologise for it. On the walk home, you had decided you would surprise her. After all, everyone loved flowers, didn’t they?

The streets were as busy as they usually were, but that was alright. It was a rather lovely evening, and it gave you more time to think about Sam. There was no doubt in your mind that anyone, possibly everyone would have teased you for how much of a… what did J call it? A simp you were for her. Yet you didn’t mind. You would have done anything for her without an ounce of hesitation.

Your mind started replaying the nights you spent with her. Some more exciting than others, though none of them a bore. The nights you spent together in each other’s bed, keeping quiet at her place while not bothering to do the same at yours. Or the nights you would just lay there, tracing scars and telling stories. Hers were far more interesting than yours, that was for sure.

Would it be too soon to start questioning if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her? It had been nearly a year, if your memory served you well. Not the longest length of time, but you knew plenty of people that had questioned it much sooner. Would you want to spend the rest of your life with her?

Yes. Yes, you would. Being able to wake up to Sam every morning, hair splayed out on your pillow even as she insisted she was on her own. To be there for her when the nightmares and fears became too much. A shoulder to lean on, to cry on, a hand to hold when she needed it. You wanted to be by her side through it all, the good, the bad, the fun, the terrifying.

Nothing sounded better than being able to call her yours for the rest of your lives.

You didn’t bother buzzing to be let in; someone already downstairs let you in, having recognised you, you supposed. It wouldn’t have been too far of a stretch, you had frequented the apartment complex often enough. You were almost certain you knew the Carpenters’ neighbours better than they did.

Each step up the stairs had your heart racing faster. You were of the mind of a giddy school child, seeing their crush for the first time after the weekend. It was a little silly, but you didn’t care. Your parents had instilled in you the ability to be proud of your tendencies that most would find a little ridiculous. And you would never be shamed for wanting to see your girlfriend.

There were a few muffled voices behind the door when you approached the apartment. It wasn’t unusual, they were the centre hub for their friends. Sometimes the twins would come over, sometimes Anika would come around for a short escape, sometimes all three would arrive at once. On occasion you had even seen Quinn, though she had moved out some months ago and only frequented the bigger gatherings.

You opened the door quietly, doing your best not to disturb whoever else was inside. Slowly slipping into the apartment and easing the door shut, you did your best to keep the flowers as presentable as possible. After all, that was the surprise you had spent so long picking out. It would do you no good to mess them up before you could even give them to Sam. You turned around-

-the flowers fell to the floor with a thump.

“Oh shit.”

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

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