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#this was staying in my drafts for far too long
twyftwyt · 9 months
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Warnings: slight smut, anger
Noah Sebastian x fem!reader
Authors note: this is a little something I found in my drafts that I’m debating on continuing (as a one shot tho)
“I thought we talked this through. Stop acting up. Not in public. Not right now.”
And he had a point. He really did. We both hated making a scene in public and we rarely had spats. We knew better than to throw fits and fists at each other, but my vision was so blurry from all the hurt and anger that my brain went blank the moment we stepped out of the restaurant.
We had a small argument before we left the hotel, to grab dinner with everyone else, but we agreed on postponing the conversation for later. For when we’re alone, between the comfort of the four walls of our hotel room. But things didn’t go as planned and escalated pretty quickly when something in me snapped the moment he made a sarcastic comment towards me, at dinner. I bit back, of course, and he didn’t like it. We were both on edge the whole evening. I could see him fidgeting a lot, tapping his knee, looking over at me and I purposefully ignored him. Which steered the pot even more.
“You know better than to act like this. Please, I don’t have the patience to do this tonight.”
That was the last text message that I got from him. At one point I got up and went to the toilet only to come back and sit on the other end of the table. As far away from him as possible. A change he noticed in an instant. I was too far gone to start acting right so I just grabbed my phone from where it was laying on the table and started typing away as fast as I could. My annoyance visible to those around me now.
“So you get a free pass in the asshole department and I don’t?!”
The moment I hit sent and my message displayed as “Seen” my eyes shot up at him. And he was already glaring at me. His eyes were low and darkened. I knew I hit a nerve. And I knew that I knew better than to do that, but I was seeing red at this point. I saw him move in his seat till he got his wallet out and put a 50 dollar bill on the table.
“That should cover our dinner. We’re going back to the hotel, because whatever was in that salad is not doing my stomach any good right now.”
What a decent liar. He got up from the table and motioned at me with his index finger. A lump got stuck in my throat, cause I knew what was coming. I hated fighting with him. Especially in cases where the fight had gotten so stupid that we’ve both already lost sense of reality and the thing we were fighting over.
I excused myself from the table and followed in his footsteps quickly. The air outside was cold and dry and I felt his arm wrap around me. His hot breath tickled my hair when I felt his lips press against my temple.
“You wanna finish that conversation in person?”
He felt hot to the touch and his body was starting to shake. Not from the coldness, I knew I had pressed a sensitive button.
“I don’t wanna fight, Noah.”
My tone was more desperate than I intended it to be.
“Then why do you keep saying silly shit?”
“Because you push me, Noah. I don’t even think you realize how you push my buttons at times and it takes all the strength I have in me to not go back to my old ways and tell you to go fuck yourself. It’s stupid, the shit we’ve been fighting over, these last few days. Have you noticed that?! We’re not fighting over little scenarios and situations, it’s deeper than that. But I’m not ready to talk about it and apparently so aren’t you. And that’s okay. We’ll get to it at some point, but we.can’t.keep.doing.this.”
I blurted out the whole thing in one breath and got dizzy shortly after shutting my mouth. We had picked up the pace and he was gripping my arms so tight that I felt like I could fly off the ground if I lift my feet.
“I think we trigger unhealed parts of our brains, thus we go back to old ways and I hate it. Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with you.”
I didn’t know what to do with him either.
“I don’t want fight over silly little things, cause we’re just gonna get tired of each other at one point. But you’re right. We do trigger each other in a way that I can’t understand neither explain and I don’t know what to do with us.”
I knew we weren’t gonna solve this overnight. So we spent the rest of the walk to the hotel in silence. We got in the elevator and as he was fumbling for his key, I leaned on the wall behind me. His tall frame was hovering over me and I could see his shoulders were tense. We were both worked up from tonight. The moment our elevator announced our floor and the doors opened, he grabbed my hand and lead me to our room. He was always firm but gentle. He was quick in his reactions and he kept his composure at all times. I admired him a lot for that. But he was too calm sometimes. Too composed. Too silent. Too much in his head. I was an anxious over thinker and he was avoidant. And we were trying so hard to give each other the needed space and reassurance, but there were times like this, where our worlds crashed. When all we wanted was to just collide peacefully.
He threw his hoodie on the couch and got out of his shoes as soon as we closed and locked the door behind us. The room was dimly lit by only the nightstand lamps and the orange light illuminated off of his body.
“I’m getting in the shower. Do you need something?”
“From the shower?”
He rolled his eyes at me and I smiled at him.
“I wanna take your tank top off.”
And I didn’t mean it in a sexual way. I just wanted to feel him close, to feel the heat emanating from his body.
“Go on then.”
He lifted his arms in front of me.
“You have to sit on the bed, babe. I can’t reach that high.”
I rolled my eyes at him this time. He stepped backwards a few times until his legs hit the wooden board of the bed and he sank down on the soft cushions. I straddled him and untuck his tank top from his sweats, lifting it slowly from his torso. I felt his hands slide down my waist and my breath stuck in my throat. I removed his tank top and put it on the bed beside us, looking down at him, running my fingers through his hair.
“You’re giving me the eyes.”
His own breaths were coming out short.
“What eyes?”
“The “fuck me” eyes. You’re giving me the “fuck me” eyes.”
“I am not.” A lie.
“Don’t play.”
“Or what?”
I saw him clench his jaw and his hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them hard, pulling me down on him.
“You’ve given me plenty of reasons to not be gentle with you tonight. Don’t give me more, Y/N.”
At this point I was grinding my crotch against his, feeling his erection grow behind the three pieces of fabric separating us. So much for staying mad or talking things through.
“I can handle your worst, Noah.”
We were both still coming down from that fight earlier and I knew what to expect. But then again, I think always know with Noah. I’ve studied and learned his ways so well, that I can tell what he’s thinking about the minute I look at him. It’s crazy to think that we’re here now, looking back at what we started as. Just two shy people brought against our will to a friends party.
I felt his slick fingers unzipping my skirt and lifting it up higher around my waist. The button on my white shirt flew, because apparently he didn’t have the patience to unbutton them one by one and I awed in surprise.
“I need you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”
His voice was huskier than ever, his eyes darkened. That was the Noah that took over when he couldn’t handle his emotions at the moment and left them for later. And I gave in, cause I was the same in that sense. So I obeyed and slipped down to my knees in front of him, looking at up with deer eyes. What next, my love? What else are we gonna bury with sex?
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jadevine · 9 months
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Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that
Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/
I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.
Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask
Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember
Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my
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I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.
I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.
People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.
But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.
The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.
The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.
Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.
If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).
Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.
If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.
Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."
And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"
Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."
This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.
A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.
NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.
If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.
Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.
As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.
Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.
UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.
But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!
Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.
Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.
The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.
Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )
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call-sign-shark · 9 months
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Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader
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Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.
Words: 2,3k
TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.
Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.
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It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.
Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.
Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.
But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.
From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…
Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.
Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.
You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.
The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.
The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.
The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.
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“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.
“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.
“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."
"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.
"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.
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The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.
You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.
Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.
“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.
“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”
“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”
“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.
“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.
One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.
Do it again.
Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.
His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.
His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.
His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.
The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”
The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.
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Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.
Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood
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leclerc-hs · 7 months
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ex's and oh's - CL16
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pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo
THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either. 
You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.
There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.
“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”
“Already fucking other people, hm?”
As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car. 
“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.
Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it. 
“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!” 
He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat. 
“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?”  Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.
“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.
“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?
He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.
So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”
He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.
His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.
“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.
The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.
For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was. 
“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?
The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option. 
The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.
“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night. 
The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.
“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant. 
The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.
You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.
“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.
You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him. 
And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”
The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move. 
His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters. 
“Porquoi?” Why?
“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.
You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away. 
“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being. 
His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.
“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit. 
You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.
His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.
“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.
“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move. 
It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”
You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.
"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."
“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.
“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder. 
You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.
“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.
“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?
You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.
“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”
His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.
“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.
The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.
You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.
His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.
“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest. 
Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it. 
“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.
“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
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Dad Jace would totally let him daughter braid his hair and let her use him as her mannequin head (who else had one when they were kids?). He would be such a good girl dad
Request: Jace and reader's daughter who disturbs small council meeting by walking in and Rhaenyra is sweet to her and don't care of the disturbance. She would have been such a good grandmother
This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks (early august...), and since I have not posted in a moment, here's a little blurb until I finish other things. I don't usually write fics with children/babies in it, but now that I'm a godmother, I have material for content XD
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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Unlike her father, Rhaenyra wanted Jacaerys to be prepared for when he’ll, one day, ascend the iron throne. She gave him a seat at her small council, at her side, and taught him how to rule the Seven Kingdoms. He was not given a title other than heir, but his presence was important to her and for the future — his future.
While the council was deep in discussion about ships and importation, the heavy doors of the small council chamber creaked open. Heads turned as little Alyssa, who had just turned four, burst into the room. Ignoring the gathered noblemen, the young princess darted straight to her father at the far end of the table. 
Jacaerys immediately shifted his attention from Tyland Lanister to his daughter. He could feel that the noblemen at the table were irritated by the disruption, but he didn't care. 
‘’How do I look, Daddy?’’ Alyssa asked, spinning in her new dress, her eyes full of excitement.
''Magnificent,'' he said, smiling lovingly at the little girl who looked just like him, except for her eyes. She had your eyes. 
Alyssa beamed at the praise, her little heart swelling with joy. She then skipped over to Rhaenyra, her small hand reaching out to display the dress with pride. ‘’Look, Grandma!’’
Rhaenyra's eyes softened at her granddaughter, removing her Queen facade. ‘’That is a very beautiful dress, sweetheart. You look lovely.’’ 
Alyssa beamed and pointed proudly to the light blue dragon with silver wings embroidered on the dress. ‘’Mama made the dragon,’’ she explained.  
‘’Speaking of Mama, where is she?’’ Jacaerys asked gently, hoping to get a response. 
But Alyssa just shrugged, her small shoulders rising and falling. Without a word, she spun around and dashed out of the council chamber, her mischievous giggles echoing down the hallway. 
This time, Jacaerys was hot on her heels. He couldn’t let her wander alone — she was far too young. She could get lost or find herself in dangerous places, like the kitchens or the White Sword tower. Or worse, she could also get taken by ill intentioned people. 
His long strides quickly closed the distance between him and Alyssa. As he finally caught up with her, Jacaerys scooped the little princess up in one swift motion, causing Alyssa to squeal in surprise and delight as she wiggled in his arms.
‘’No getting away from me!’’ Jacaerys held her closely, feeling her small arms wrapping around his neck and clinging to him. ‘’Did you run away from the nursemaid again?’’ Alyssa stayed silent. ‘’You know you're not supposed to run off like that. Let’s go back to the playroom before they send a search party for you.’’
Alyssa remained quiet, but she nestled deeper into her father’s embrace. She adored you, but there was something special about the bond she shared with her father. Same for Jacaerys. She was his precious little princess, his firstborn. 
As they entered the playroom, Jacaerys saw the nursemaid pacing around worriedly. The young princess's escapade had clearly caused a bit of panic.
‘’Princess!’’ the nursemaid sighed in relief, silently thanking the Sevens that she had returned safely. 
‘’She's safe and sound,’’ Jacaerys said softly, gently rubbing Alyssa’s back. ‘’Just a little adventure, right, Alyssa?’’
The little girl finally lifted her head and nodded, her grip loosening slightly as she glanced at the nursemaid. ‘’I wanted to see Daddy.’’ 
Jacaerys kissed her cheek before setting her down. His sweet girl. 
Behind the nursemaid, Lucerys was playing with little wooden dragons, handed down to him by his uncles. Jacaerys played with these same dragons when he was young, and so did his brother Lucerys, who his son was named after. 
‘’You may leave us and take the rest of your day, Saphia. I will take care of the children.’’
The nursemaid nodded, bowing to Jacaerys before retiring herself.  Later, when you returned to your chambers after spending the afternoon with ladies from court, you were surprised to see your husband sitting on the carpet with Lucerys and Alyssa, who was in the middle of making ‘braids’ in her father’s hair. It looked more like knots than braids, by the look on Jacaerys’ face. A smile curled on your lips and you joined them on the carpet, finishing the day with your little family.
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fortheb0ys · 4 months
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Just thinking of cumming in Soap numerous times. You're tired, nearly falling asleep. He's crying his face a complete mess. Cum's leaking out of his ass and the base of your cock soaked it in.
You had already been tired from your schedule being taken up by training the rookies. Relaxing with your boyfriend and going to bed early was your plans for the evening but not Soap's.
No, his plans was to be fucked stupid for hours.
Now he's riding you as your eyes flutter, trying your damn hardest to stay awake. He's getting desperate, chasing a far high.
He wants another round. Getting tire was something Soap wasn't going to be for long time. He'd cum more times than you could count and with little down time he'd start right back up again which is an instance like right now.
Soap had just came for the fifth time and you three. You're extremely exhausted and Soap quite the opposite. He could go on for another two hours but you were ready to call it a night.
He bounces vigorously with a pout adorned on his face, frustrated at your lack of effort. His orgasm was so close. All he needed was your hands all over him. To bite, pinch, grope, anything. No, all he got was lazy squeezes on his waist. Your tired fingers weren't enough to bruise him.
Noticing Soap's disappointed attitude, you try to engage with his wants. You'd massage his sides, grip his waist to slam him down on your cock. Just to stop when you became tired once again.
You're both dirty, covered in cum and all you wanted to do was fall asleep with Soap in your arms.
"Come on, baby. Need ta cum again. Just this once, please." Soap would beg as tear pooled in his eyes.
You look at the pout on his face as tears stream down his cheek. A new found energy courses through you. With all the strength you can muster, you flip Soap onto his back and begin slamming into him.
"Johnny, one last time and you let me sleep. Deal?" You snarl, making it clear that it WAS going to be the last one.
Soap nodded, slightly scared how quickly you changed your demeanor. You pulled his knees back till they touch his shoulder. Soap face twists to discomfort than to pleasure as thrust into him without warning.
You were going at it hard and fast, wanting to quickly get things done. Even with the sudden burst of energy you weren't sure how long it would last.
Rythm was no where to be found as you continue to fuck hard into him. Words tumble out of Soap's mouth in incoherent babbles. His velvet walls constrict around you.
You hit deep inside him in this position. He can feel you rearranging his guts. He places his palm on his lower belly, the tip of your cock pushing against it with each thrust. The feeling sends him into the stars, his vision blurry.
With a final thrust, you both come undone.
He got what he wanted though now it feels all too much. His spend cock sits between his folded legs, pathetically weeping out the last few drops of cum.
Pulling out of his gaping hole, Soap whimpers at the lost. You turn to your side tired and finally able to sleep. Your eyes feel like lead and your cock aches.
"Ask again and I'm sending you downstairs with a dildo and I'm locking the door."
With that Soap finally stills for the next, eyes closing as he pulls you close.
This was sitting in my drafts idk if it's any good, I didn't proofread it🤷‍♂️
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mountsmase · 1 month
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I’m Yours
a/n : hi!! I can’t believe I’m finally posting this fic! I’ve had this concept sat in my drafts since March and I went through a bit of a hard time with writing but I’ve now turned this idea into something that I’m really proud of 🥹 this is the first time I’ve attempted to write something where the reader and Mase aren’t already in an established relationship, so I really hope that I did it justice and that you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!! These two are my babies 🥺 I really hope you enjoy ❤️ feedback is appreciated as always 🫶🏻 (also it’s my first time trying an actual header so please let me know what you think)
word count: 14k +
genre: fluff and smut
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“There you are”
The deep rumble of your best friends voice startles you, his suit clad body brushing against the bare skin of your arm as he appears next to you.
Mason pulls out the chair beside your own, sitting down with you in the secluded corner of the crowded room.
The Together for Short Lives gala is well and truly underway, the large ballroom decorated in elegant black and gold furnishings as people talk amongst themselves around the room. It’s packed, an amazing turn out for such a meaningful event.
The evening so far has been nothing short of special, with a dinner followed by an auction, all of the money going to an amazing cause. Your heart filled with pride watching Mason up on the stage and you’re so grateful that he chose to share this night with you.
“You disappeared on me” Mason pouts, glancing down at the cocktail you’re holding in your hands before taking it from you and lifting it to his lips.
He takes a sip and you giggle at the face he pulls as he clearly didn’t enjoying the sweet tasting drink as much as he thought he would.
“Sorry, I just went to get another drink and then I couldn’t find you” You tell him, taking your glass back when he offers it to you.
“You should’ve called me, I’d of come to find you” He replies, and you try to ignore the way your tummy flutters at his words.
“I know you would’ve, but I can handle being alone for a bit, I’m a big girl”
There’s a playful glint in his eyes when you look up at him.
“But what if I wanted to come and find you?”
“Well you’re here now, so it couldn’t of been that difficult” You grin, watching as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and you’re briefly distracted when he reaches up to adjust his tie.
You and Mason have been friends for as long as you can remember.
Your dads used to work together when they were younger and they always had a close relationship both in and out of work, which led to your families becoming close as well. Your mums became inseparable when they were introduced, and a few years later, when you and Mason were born only a few months apart, you naturally became inseparable too.
You grew up together, your parents keeping you close despite the fact that you attended two different schools, and as you got older, your bond only grew stronger.
Some of your best memories are with Mason, you’d stay the weekend at each others houses, spend long afternoons doing homework together before playing in the garden, and there were even a few summers where your families had joint holidays.
It was the two of you against the world, and it had always been that way.
That is until his football career started to take off. You were so proud of him. Your friend was playing for one of the best clubs in the England and you were over the moon to see him doing so well.
But, it unfortunately meant that he became busier and was spending more and more time in London and away from Portsmouth. You tried your best to stay in touch, messaging all the time and video calling when you eventually got phones, but you can’t deny that it was hard not having him around anymore.
Things only started to get difficult when he went on loan to Vitesse when you were 18. It was harder to keep contact with him being away and being so focussed on football, but you’d never blame him for the fact you drifted apart.
You were in college at the time, spending any available minuet that you had on your classes, making sure you could pass your exams and get into the uni you’d always dreamed of attending.
It was difficult, you couldn’t be there for each other as much as you’d of liked to be, and as much as you’d both tried your hardest to stop it, it started becoming harder and harder as time went on.
You’d only see each other at family events like birthdays and weddings and it got to the point where you’d only talk once every few months or so. Even when he came back to the UK and was living in Cobham, you’d video call to catch up and then not speak to each other again for weeks unless you had something specific to talk about.
It was all part of growing up though. He was still one of your best friends, someone you knew you could trust and could call if you ever needed anything, and you were the same to him.
You both became increasingly busy, especially when he began playing for the first team and you were going through university, so it made sense that it became harder to make time for each other.
But, last year, it all changed.
After graduating from university and receiving your degree three years ago, you were presented with an amazing job opportunity in Manchester, which you just couldn’t say no to. It was a big change for you, moving somewhere so far away from home and having to start a new life in a new city, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.
You’re doing amazing at work, having received a promotion not even two years after joining your company, and you’ve got a cute little apartment that you’ve well and truly made your own.
You really didn’t think it could get much better, but you were proved wrong when Mason transferred to Man United last summer.
After a lot of uncertainty surrounding his career, Mason was relived to finally know who he would be playing for next season and was excited to start his new life up in Manchester.
You were one of the only people he knew in the city, and when he reached out, you offered for him to stay in your spare bedroom whilst he settled in and found a place to call his own.
He obviously took you up on your offer, loving the extra time he got to spend with you and the familiarity that came with being in your presence.
You had the best month living together. It was like you’d never been apart, all of those years of having distance between you forgotten. You’d cook dinner together, have movie nights, talk to each other after you’d had a bad day at training or work and even after he moved out and into his new home, you still spent as much time together as possible.
You had your best friend back, and you had truly never felt happier.
Now, fast forward 8 months, and you’re questioning if that’s really all you are anymore.
You’ve always known that Mason is an attractive guy. I mean, how could you not? He’s gorgeous.
But recently that attraction has grown deeper. And not only in a physical way.
The last couple of months have been filled with lingering touches and longing gazes, the line between friendship and something more slowly becoming blurred.
He’s no longer just Mason, your best friend, but he’s Mason, the guy you think, sorry, know that you’re in love with.
Mason is one of the few people who treats you like you’re somebody. He makes you feel like the most special girl in the world without even trying and you’ve had to remind yourself one too many times recently that there’s nothing more going on between you.
You haven’t mentioned your feelings to him because you’re scared. Scared of loosing him and ruining what is such an important friendship to you. Scared that you aren’t enough for him.
You didn’t have the best experience in your last relationship, and you know deep down that Mason would never treat you the way he did and that there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You’re a pretty girl who has good morals and a good head on your shoulders.
But, the fear that you’re not good enough - that you wouldn’t be able to give him what he wants and needs - still clouds your mind, and it’s one of the reasons why you won’t admit anything to him.
And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? After the last couple of months you know deep down that he could, but the last thing you want is to throw away your friendship over it.
You just can’t ignore the growing tension between the two of you.
But…neither can he.
Mason has felt for a long time that there’s no one else for him but you, and his feelings for you just grew stronger after moving to Manchester.
You took him in and made him feel at home in a city where mostly everything was new to him, supported him through a tough transition period, and after moving out of your spare bedroom he found himself craving your company more than anyone else’s.
You feel like home to him.
Tough day at training? He wants to see you. He saw something funny on TikTok? It’s you he wants to send it to you. He burnt his toast that morning? He wants to tell you. You’re at the forefront of his mind all the time.
You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever set his eyes on, both inside and out. You’ve got a heart of gold and he would do anything in his power to protect you from the harsh reality’s of the world. You’re the most important person to him, he just wants to make you happy and see you smiling all the time.
This tension that’s been building between you recently has been killing him, and as much as he worries that you won’t feel the same way, he doesn’t think he can hold in his feelings much longer.
There’s been too many moments where he’s had to stop himself from leaning in and claiming your lips with his own, and it’s been becoming harder and harder to restrain himself.
Especially tonight.
He’d invited you to join him and Lewis as a plus one to the black tie gala, wanting to experience the evening with you and share something that’s always been so special to him.
When you stepped out of the lift earlier in the evening, his heart soared at the sight of you in your floor length gown. You left him speechless, and he’s not been able to take his eyes off of you ever since.
The black material hugs your body in all of the right places, perfectly contrasting against your tanned skin. You’ve matched it with a pair of strappy heals and silver jewellery, going for a simple yet elegant look.
There’s a slit down the left side, starting at your upper thigh, and the sight of your leg poking out from underneath the satin fabric has Mason’s mind wandering to places that he knows it shouldn’t.
You look absolutely stunning, and he’s been struggling to hold himself back all evening.
He’s found his attention drifting to you through out the night, more often than not becoming distracted from whatever conversation he’s having to admire you, and he’d quickly become captivated by your presence.
Sitting next to you now is no different, he can’t help but let his eyes drift down your body and your cheeks heat when you notice his wandering gaze.
There’s a look of longing in his eyes, one you’ve become familiar with, but until tonight you’ve always thought that you’ve been imagining it.
“You need to stop looking at me like that, Mase”
The sound of your soft voice has his attention snapping away from your body, and your heart skips a beat when his warm brown eyes find yours.
His cheeks flush from being caught, but his confidence doesn’t falter.
“Yeah? And what are you going to do if I don’t?” He whispers, loud enough for only you to hear and the teasing smirk that finds his lips has your heart racing in your chest.
You’re overcome by a wave of shyness, any response that you may have had dying in your throat as he shuffles closer to you, his knee nudging into yours under the table.
He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, but the urge to touch you suddenly becomes too much to ignore. He finds himself reaching out, his warm palm landing against your exposed thigh as his other arm snakes behind you, resting against the back of your chair. Your skin burns under his touch, breath hitching in your throat when his thumb rubs in tender circles over the inside of your thigh.
Mason has always been a touchy person, you’ve seen and experienced it over your years of friendship, but there’s something about the way he’s touching you now that has your head spinning.
His hand ventures a little higher and you fumble to open your purse, pulling out your lipgloss and phone in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you’ve avoided his question when you open the camera app, using it as a makeshift mirror to reapply the gloss.
He watches as you swipe the applicator over your pink, plump lips, the action captivating him and it takes all of his self restraint to not lean in and kiss you right there and then.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Bambi”
You pop the lid back onto the tube and place it back into your purse - your distraction techniques having been unsuccessful - and look up and into his eyes.
The whispered compliment has butterflies erupting in your tummy, your lips tugging up into a smile upon hearing the nickname he’s always used for you.
It started when you were 10, you always loved the movie and had invited him over to watch it with you after school one day. About half way through you stood up to go and find more popcorn but being your clumsy self you’d ended up tripping over your own feet.
Mase took the opportunity to compare your clumsiness to that of the deer, and at first he used the nickname as a joke, but then it stuck, and now, even in your twenties he still liked to use it. And you love to hear it.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Masey” you tell him, letting your gaze drop briefly and you take allow yourself a moment to admire him.
Mason is handsome even on his worst days - you’re convinced that he could wear the ugliest outfit ever and somehow still pull it off - but there something about the way he looks tonight that has you breathless.
The suit he’s wearing is simple - perfect for a black tie event. A white shirt with a black jacket and trousers, a matching tie and some dress shoes to complete the look. The chest strap that he wore earlier in the evening has been abandoned, the jacket now undone allowing for more of a relaxed look as the evening goes on.
His hair is freshly trimmed, styled into a short quiff and his facial hair is neat, more of a long stubble than a full beard. The lighting in the room is dim, but you can still make out all of his features, the freckles that are dotted over his cheeks, his long lashes and the dimple that appears whenever he smiles. He’s utterly breathtaking.
“Remind me to thank whoever tailored this suit for you” You smile, gaze locking onto his again as you reach up, smoothing your hands over the lapels of his jacket.
“You like it?”
“I love it, you look so handsome” you let your hands drop back into your lap and he misses your touch immediately.
“Yeah?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you nod gently.
You feel his arm move from behind you as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before brushing down your jaw and you become hyper-aware of how close you are when you feel his breath fanning over your cheek.
It feels as though the air around you has suddenly shifted, his gaze swimming with an emotion that you can’t quite place. The intense eye contact becomes too much for you, your eyes momentarily dropping to his chest but he brings them back to his with a hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so that you have no choice but to look at him.
His gaze drops to your lips, once, twice, and a third time, until the desire to feel them against his own becomes too overwhelming. He’s leaning in before he has a chance to stop himself, the lack of hesitation in your eyes only urging him on until someone clears their throat behind you.
“Hey guys” Lewis’ voice snaps you and Mason back to reality, the room around you coming back into focus.
His presence causes Mason to jump away from you, an unwelcome chill touching your skin where his hand no longer rests against your thigh. He groans in annoyance and turns towards his brother.
You release the breath you never realised you were holding, clearing your throat and fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress as Mason looks up at Lewis expectantly.
If he saw anything, he doesn’t let it show.
“Sorry Mase, there’s a few people asking for you”
Mason nods politely, standing up before turning to hold a hand out for you.
“You coming?” He asks, acting as though nothing happened - that he hasn’t just nearly kissed you.
It takes you a few more seconds to regain your composure, blinking up at him a few times before eventually nodding and taking his outstretched hand.
He helps you up, waiting until Lewis has turned away to lift your joint hands to his lips. He places a quick kiss to your knuckles, sending you a soft smile before letting them drop between you again and he doesn’t let go as you follow him through the crowd, fingers still intertwined as Lewis introduces you to an older man who you recognise as one of the event organisers.
You try your best to focus on the conversations that are happening in front of you. You really do.
But it’s hard to concentrate with Mason’s fingers still tangled with yours and the thought of what could’ve happened had Lewis not interrupted you a few moments ago.
That’s the second time you’ve almost kissed him. The first being a few weeks ago when he’d invited you and a few of your other friends over for a games night.
You’d gotten to Mason’s a little earlier than everyone else, wanting to spend a bit of extra time with him before the others arrived and you were in the kitchen, helping him find some snacks and drinks when your favourite song had come on shuffle through the speakers.
One thing led to another and you were dancing around the kitchen, singing your little heart out as Mason stood back and watched you, giggling at your terrible dance moves.
As the song went on you got a little more into it, accidentally crashing into him after tripping over your own feet and he’d reached out to steady you, the two of you laughing together as you found your footing and rested against his chest.
Your laughter had slowly died down, the air around you thickening as you looked up to find him already gazing down at you. The warm look in his eyes could only be described as endearment and what happened next was a bit of blur.
He was leaning in when the door bell went off, the others arriving at the worst time and ruining the moment without even realising.
You’ve thought about it every day since, wondering what could’ve been, and now here you are weeks later, still asking yourself the same questions.
You’re brought back to the present moment when Mason squeezes your hand, dragging your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you.
“You okay?” He mumbles close to your ear, hand letting go of yours to instead wrap around your waist and you melt into his warmth as he tugs you closer.
You nod, sending him a smile that says you’re cool, calm and collected, but it’s as much of a facade as it can be when inside you’re feeling the complete opposite.
“How about one more drink and then we head back to the hotel?” Mason suggests a few hours later, glancing down to his watch and noticing that it’s nearing 11pm.
“You guys go ahead, I’m going to go and talk to a few more people and then I’ll come and find you guys” Lewis tells you before heading to the other side of the room and you follow Mason over to the bar.
“Water?” Mason asks, voice low as you approach counter.
He knows you’re not the biggest drinker, only ever choosing to have one or two drinks when you go out, and you’ve already had a cocktail and a glass of wine with your dinner.
“Please” You smile, glancing over to him as he orders and pays for your drinks.
“Sorry mate, any chance we can grab a straw please?” Mason asks the bar tender when he places your water down in front of you, and you feel your cheeks warm at the simple gesture. You’ve always preferred drinking with straws, some people may think it’s weird, but to Mason it’s just one of the many things he loves about you.
You thank him as he slides the glass towards you, watching as he takes the paper wrapped straw from the bartender with a cheeky grin. He tears off the end of the wrapper, bringing the exposed end of the straw to his lips and you could predict what he was about to do from a mile off, but it still makes you jump when he blows on the straw, sending the paper flying and he laughs as it hits your cheek before landing on the counter next to you.
“Mason” You groan playfully, shaking your head at his childish behaviour. Still, you can’t help but laugh with him, and his heart soars at the sound.
It’s not long later that you’re leaving the venue after finishing your drinks and saying your goodbyes, stepping out into the chilly evening air as Lewis steps aside to call a taxi.
“Did you have a good night?” Mason asks, coming to stand beside you.
A gust of wind ruffles his hair, a couple of strands falling onto his forehead and you have to fight the urge to reach up and brush them away for him.
“Yeah I did, thank you for inviting me, it was special” you smile up at him, rubbing your palms against your bare arms in an attempt to keep warm when the wind picks up. The temperature has dropped significantly since earlier in the evening, and you’re now regretting your choice to not bring a second layer with you.
Mason doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket when he notices you shivering, slipping it over your shoulders before you can protest. You snuggle into it’s warmth, breathing in the scent of his cologne that still lingers on the fabric.
“Better?” He murmurs, making sure its wrapped around you enough before draping an arm around your shoulders.
“Thank you” You nod, melting into his side when he gently tugs you towards him.
The wait for the taxi isn’t too long, and you stay snuggled up to Mason’s side as he chats away to Lewis about your plans for getting back to Manchester tomorrow. You don’t pay any attention to their conversation though, too busy focussing on his little touches to listen to what they’re saying.
He holds you close, absentmindedly tracing patterns into your shoulder through the material of his jacket. You’re resting against his chest, and it rumbles underneath your cheek whenever he speaks, his soft voice soothing you.
You could stay wrapped up in him forever, but your bubble is popped when the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of you.
Lewis takes the front seat, letting you and Mason sit in the back together and you slide in when he holds the door open for you. He climbs in behind you, pouting as you settle into the far seat rather than the one next to his.
It’s only a short drive back to the hotel, and you spend it in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at Mason every now and then, unable to take your eyes away from him as the street lights shine through the windows, casting a golden glow over his features.
He turns his head suddenly, feeling the heat of your gaze, but you're quick to look away, cheeks blazing when you realise he’s caught you staring.
You start fiddling with your rings, one of the telltale signs that you’re nervous, but a warm hand intertwines with yours, stopping your fidgeting. Mason is already looking at you when you glance up at him, and your heart soars at the gentle look in his eyes. There’s a certain warmth behind them that tells you everything is okay, and you settle back into the seat, sliding your fingers between his and not letting go for the rest of the journey.
Mason is the first out of the car when you pull up in front of your hotel, quickly making his way around to your door before opening it for you and you accept the hand he holds out, letting him help you climb out. He quickly tips and thanks the driver before leading you into the hotel, through the lobby and towards the lifts.
You bid your good nights to Lewis when he steps out on his level, leaving you and Mason alone as the doors close behind him. You settle into another comfortable silence as you continue up to your floor.
The doors slide open and Mason moves aside, letting you step out in front of him before following you down the hall towards your room, wanting to make sure you get back safely.
You stop in front of your door, reaching into your purse to retrieve your room key before turning to thank him for walking you back, but the words get stuck on your tongue, not quite feeling ready to say goodnight to him yet.
“Stay with me tonight?” You whisper, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that has somehow been set in the hallway, “we can order room service and watch something, just like we do at home”
He doesn’t respond straight away, and for a very brief moment you worry that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but you watch as his gaze softens, and he keeps his voice low as he says “Let me just go and grab a few things from my room and then I’ll be back, yeah?”
“Okay” you nod, watching as he heads back down the hallway before letting yourself into your room.
You feel giddy, buzzing with nervous excitement as you slip Mason’s jacket off and lay it over the back of the chair before busying yourself with tidying a few things away, making the room look a bit more presentable as you’d left it a mess in your rush to leave earlier.
You’re not sure where the sudden jitters have come from, it’s Mason. You’ve always spent nights at each others houses, snuggled on the sofa, talking until late before falling asleep in each others company. But something about tonight feels different.
You don’t have long to dwell on it though, hearing two taps on the door as you put the last few bits back into your suitcase.
His smile is bright as you swing the door open, stepping aside for him to come in and your eyes drop to his chest as he brushes past you. He didn’t bother changing, but his tie is nowhere to be seen, the top few buttons of his shirt now undone and his silver chain - the one that you brought him for his birthday last year - peaks out from underneath the fabric.
You click the door closed behind him, following him into the room and watching as he puts a few things down on the table beside the bed - his charger and what you think is his toothbrush, along with his wallet and a spare change of clothes for the morning.
“So, room service?” He asks, flopping down onto the bed and settling against the headboard.
He makes himself comfortable, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows as you grab the food menu from the desk in front of the TV. Your breath catches in your throat when you turn to face him, your mouth going dry as the dark ink on his forearm steals your attention.
A smirk ghosts his lips upon noticing your brief loss of composure, but he chooses not to bring it up, instead patting the spot next him.
You slip off your heels, putting them to the side before climbing onto the mattress to sit beside him. “How about pizza? I’m not too hungry so maybe we could share?”
“Sounds good, chips as well?” He suggests and you agree, trying to pass him the menu but he doesn’t take it from you, “You choose, I’m not fussed”
You decide on a classic margherita, letting Mason call downstairs to place the order whilst you reach over him and grab the remote from the table next to his side of the bed. He sucks in a sharp breath when your hand falls on his upper thigh, not so innocently steadying yourself as you lean over him. You can’t say that you’d meant to touch him like that, but you won’t pretend that you didn’t love his reaction.
“Sorry” you mumble, cheeks flaming as you sit back and busy yourself with turning on the TV, logging into your Netflix account whilst he takes a deep breath next to you and finishes ordering the food.
You put on an episode of a series that you’ve been watching together, catching each other up on some plans that you have for the next couple of weeks whilst you wait for your food to arrive and you eat in a comfortable silence when it does, Mason letting you have the last slice of pizza like always.
After clearing away the tray and placing it in the hallway, you lock the door behind you and settle back onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side when he lifts his arm for you.
“Thank you for coming with us tonight. I know it’s a long way from home but it means a lot to have you at these things with me” He tells you, a warm feeling spreading through you as he pulls you closer and rests his cheek against the top of your head.
His arm settles around you, holding you at the waist as you rest your head against his shoulder. You sling your arm over his torso, goosebumps erupting over your skin when his free hand comes to rest on your forearm, fingertips tracing over your skin.
“Thank you again for inviting me, and you know I don’t mind” You tell him, tightening your arms around him slightly, “I’d fly to the other side of the world with you if you asked me to”
He chuckles into your hair, his smile widening. “Yeah? Looks like I should ask them to have the next gala in Australia then”
“Yes! You know I’ve always wanted to go and meet Kangaroos”
“It’s a long flight though, you’d have to let me sleep on your shoulder the whole way there”
“Oh,” you pout at him jokingly, “you wouldn’t buy me a business class ticket?”
His fingertips creep up your waist and you giggle, thrashing against him when they tickle over your skin through the material of your dress.
“I’ll take that as a no then” You sigh dramatically, slumping back into his arms when his fingers relent.
“I’d buy you as many business class tickets as you want, Bambi”
Here we go again with the butterflies.
You settle back into a comfortable silence, Mason keeping his arms locked around you as he tries to switch his focus back to the TV, but it’s impossible when you’re cuddled up to him so closely.
There’s something about being in your presence that makes him feel so calm. There’s no need for him to fake anything, no need for him to worry. He can just be ‘Mase’ without any added expectations or anyone analysing his every move. You accept him for him, and he thanks his lucky stars everyday that your parents met all of those years ago because he’s really not sure what he’d do without you.
But tonight he’s nervous. He’s not sure what it is because these feelings for you are by no means new, but after he nearly slipped up and kissed you once earlier, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if it happens again.
He wants you. Physically, emotionally, whatever you’re willing to give him, he’d take it, and tonight might just be the night that he does.
He doesn’t realise that he’s been staring at you until you tilt your head to look up at him, having felt the heat of his gaze.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He whispers, a soft smile sitting on his lips.
There’s a twinkle in his eyes as they drop down to your lips, only for a millisecond before returning to your own and your heart rate quickens, a giddy feeling spreading through you.
“Maybe a few times” you tease, lips curling into a smile, “but you can tell me again”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, “You look gorgeous, always the prettiest girl in the room” He tells you, heart thudding in his chest as a shaky hand comes up to cup your jaw.
His nose bumps against yours as he leans closer. His lips are mere inches away, your heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure he can probably hear it.
When you show no signs of hesitation he closes the distance, touching his lips to yours in a tender kiss that you feel all the way from your head down to the tips of your toes.
You feel yourself melting into him as he works his lips over yours with ease, one of his hands cupping your cheek as the other gently pushes against your hip, encouraging you to roll onto your back and your arms wind around his shoulders as he moves to hover over you.
It’s easy to get lost in the feeling of his lips against yours after what feels like an eternity of waiting for this exact moment, your hand weaving into the short strands of hair on the back of his head to hold him to you.
He keeps it soft, your whole body tingling from how gentle he’s being with you as his lips move over yours with a certain tenderness that has you craving more.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that” He breathes, forehead resting against yours when you separate to catch your breaths.
His heart flip-flops in his chest at the smile that paints your lips, unable to prevent his own as you gaze up at him with twinkling eyes.
“Then who am I to stop you from doing it again?”
You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to close the distance again, but when he leans forward he brushes a kiss over your cheek instead, a whine leaving you as you try and chase his lips but he only pulls back further.
“I need to know that you definitely want this Y/N” he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you, “I know I do, but I’ll never forgive myself if later on you realise that you don’t”
His voice sounds small, the confidence that he exuded earlier slowly fading away, and your heart aches as rest your head back into the pillows to look at him properly.
You slide your hand up from his shoulder, cradling his face in your palm and your heart soars when he leans into your touch.
“Mason, my whole life I’ve known it’s been you” You tell him, gently brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek and a soft smile finds his lips at your words. “I want this, I want you”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure about anything” You whisper, watching as his features relax.
“I might have to change my mind if you don’t kiss me again though”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, not waiting another second before leaning back in.
It’s like someone has flipped a switch, all form of restraint gone as he claims your lips with a searing kiss that has your spine tingling. He coaxes your lips apart, easily slipping his tongue between them and he takes his time to explore your mouth, brushing his tongue over yours with slow, deliberate strokes.
His hand roams down your dress clad body, kneading into your skin through the satin like fabric and you arch your back into his touch, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a desperate attempt to feel him closer. His warm palm slides over your hip, finding the bare skin of your thigh, exposed through the slit of your dress, and he hooks your leg over his waist.
You moan into his mouth as he presses his hips into yours, the sound going straight to his centre and his length twitches in the confines of his boxers.
“You definitely want to do this?” He asks between kisses, his lips leaving yours to move over your cheek and down to your jaw.
You nod, tilting your head back to allow him better access as he trails his kisses down your throat.
“I need your words, Y/N” he urges, pulling back to look at you.
“Yes Mason, please” You plead, just wanting to feel his lips on your skin again.
He doesn’t waste anymore time, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck and you shiver when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, his lips peppering kisses wherever he can reach and you whimper when finds your sweet spot, your sounds only encouraging him.
He sucks on the sensitive spot below your ear, teeth grazing over your skin before soothing the sting with his tongue and then he’s continuing his kisses down your body.
“As much as I love this dress on, I’d much rather it be off right now” he speaks when his kisses meet the neckline of your dress, the material obstructing his path and stopping him from going any further.
You attempt to reach behind you to undo the buttons that hold it together, but you can’t quite reach them, your position on the bed just leading to an awkward tangle of limbs. You huff out a breath, slumping back into the duvet as he watches you, clearly trying to hold himself back from laughing.
You send him an unimpressed glare, trying once more to reach behind but you only end up finding yourself in the same predicament as before.
“Help me” you pout, and he leans down to kiss it away, loosening his hold on your waist before getting off the bed.
“C’mon, jump up” He holds his hands out for you and you take them, letting him pull you up until you’re standing in front of him.
He moves you so that you’re stood with your back to his chest, his hands lightly brushing down your arms and you shiver under his touch, instinctively leaning back into his warmth.
“May I?” He asks softly, his breath tickling over your shoulder as he speaks.
“Y-yeah” you stutter, trying to steady your beating heart as he brushes your hair to one side.
He must notice the way you tense up as he reaches for the buttons, his lips pressing to your shoulder in an attempt to calm you.
“Relax sweetheart, it’s just me” he whispers, and you force yourself to take a deep breath.
But what if that’s the issue? It’s just him, just Mason. The man you’ve loved for years. You’re comfortable in your body, but what if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he changes his mind? What if -
Your thoughts are cut off when he gently takes a hold of your waist, turning you around to face him and you’re met with his soft expression, a hint of concern in his eyes.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He whispers, trying to meet your gaze but you look down, eyes focussing on his chest as a wave of shyness washes over you.
“Hey, look at me” He says, keeping his voice gentle as he brings two fingers to lightly nudge your chin so that you look at him again.
“Sorry, I just…” you begin, and he’s patient with you when you stop to take a few deep breaths, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it’s just- the last guy I was with like this wasn’t the nicest and he had a fair amount of things to say about my body and - god I’m so sorry” You quickly cut yourself off when you notice you’re rambling, cheeks flaming when you release what you’ve just admitted to him.
Mason feels his heart breaking more and more with every word that leaves your lips. He could never understand how anybody could be so cruel. He feels himself growing angry at the thought of anyone treating you that way and frustrated with himself for not being able to protect you from someone like that.
He knows deep down that there’s nothing he could’ve done to stop it, but you should’ve never had to go through that, and it pains him to know that someone hurt you so deeply.
He doesn’t let his feelings show though, instead making a promise to himself to never, ever, make you feel anything less than beautiful. You deserve so much more and he’s ready to show you just how perfect you are and treat you the way you deserve.
“Listen to me angel, you have nothing to apologise for okay?” his voice is firm, making sure you’re looking right at him before continuing.
“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. No one should’ve treated you that way. You deserve so much more baby. You are the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on Y/N, and I need you to know that I’d never treat you like that.” He tells you, cradling your cheeks in his palms as he rests his forehead against yours.
You nod as best as you can, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your smile as his words sink in.
“We don’t have to do anything tonight Y/N, if you don’t want to we can just watch another movie or something, I won’t be upset. All I want is for you to feel comfortable.”
Your nodding quickly turns into you shaking your head instead.
“No Mase, I want to do this. I want you.” You reassure him and he leans back slightly, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead before lowering his hands to your waist again.
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course” you tell him, gulping down the nervous lump in your throat and willing your heart rate to slow down.
“Okay, you still want me to take this off?”
His fingers fiddle with the thin straps of your dress as you nod, trying not to seem to eager. “Please”
“Turn around for me then angel”
You do just that, turning around so that your back is facing him again and his touch is gentle, barely there as he reaches up to brush your hair to the side once more. His lips find the nape of your neck, scattering kisses over your skin, and this time you don’t tense up as he reaches for the fabric.
He’s slow in releasing the buttons, his fingers skimming over your now exposed skin as he takes his time, undoing them one by one before finally reaching the last after what feels like a life time. His lips never leave your skin as his hands lift to brush the straps off of your shoulders, guiding the material down your body before dropping it to pool around your ankles.
Left in nothing but a pair of black, lacy panties, it takes all of your strength to turn and face him. He takes you in, allowing his gaze to drift down your body and he feels himself twitch in the confines of his boxers. The sight of you bare in front of him makes his head spin, feeling overwhelmed by the need to reach out and touch you.
“So fucking pretty” he murmurs, his words setting your body alight as his hand slays out on your waist.
There’s a bright look in his eyes as he draws you closer, guiding you to step out of your dress, and you forget why you were ever worried.
“Thank you for trusting me” he whispers against your temple, scattering featherlight kisses there as you lean further into his body.
Wrapping his arms around your waist he trails his kisses down your face, over your cheeks before landing on your lips.
You melt into him, his grip keeping you upright as you kiss him back with everything you have. Your hands creep up his back, one finding its way into his hair as the other clutches onto his shoulder. Nails dig into his skin through the material of his shirt but he doesn’t care, losing himself in the feeling of your lips on his.
Your fingers rake through his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle and his lips part on a gasp when your nails scratch over his scalp. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue between his lips, clashing with his own as you fight to take control.
It’s a little messy, but neither of you care, years of pent up feelings and frustrations being poured into the kiss until the burning desire to please him becomes too strong to ignore.
“You’ve still got way too many clothes on” you complain between kisses and he chuckles against your lips, reaching to unbutton his shirt.
“No, sit” you say, and he falls back onto the edge of the mattress with a gentle push of your hands against his shoulders.
He leans back, gazing up at you through his lashes, watching with dark eyes as you settle into his lap with a new found confidence.
You leave enough space between you to reach up and fiddle with his buttons, undoing them one by one as your lips scatter kisses over his jaw. His pulls you forwards by your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you continue to undress him.
You struggle a little due to how close you are, but you manage to get the last few buttons undone, working the shirt off his shoulders. It gets discarded behind you, joining your dress on the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
His shoulders flex as he leans back on his hands and you take him in, eyes dragging down his chest from the chain that dangles around his neck to the small tattoo that sits high on his ribs, there’s a light dusting of hair on his chest, his muscles softly toned.
You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but sitting under you now he has you unable to think straight. You have never been so turned on just by looking at someone.
Your need to please him becomes stronger by the second, your mouth having a mind of its own as you trail your kisses down his neck, lighting sucking on his skin until you find his sweet spot. A breathy whine falls from his lips, his fingers digging into your hips a little tighter and that’s when you know you’ve found it, your lips closing over the most sensitive patch of skin.
Your lips graze over the area, licking and nipping as you make your way down to his collarbones, careful not to leave any marks where they may be visible.
He shivers, trembling under your touch as your hands slide down from his shoulders and over his chest, your lips following their path. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tease at the skin right next to his nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a sneaky mark before continuing down to his tummy, making sure to pay special attention to any moles or freckles that you find on your way.
Your legs feel like jelly as you climb off his lap and lower to your knees in front of him, hands pushing his thighs apart to allow you enough space to settle between them. The carpet is rough against your skin, but you can’t bring your self to care as you shuffle around to get more comfortable.
He isn’t without your touch long, his muscles fluttering under your fingers as you graze your lips over the soft ridges of his abs, placing open mouthed kisses along the waist band of his trousers until he grows impatient, his hands aimlessly reaching for his belt.
“Let me” you murmur, moving his hands back to rest by his sides before finding the buckle.
You’re slow in pulling it from the loops, taking your time as you drop it behind you and move to undo the button and zipper, dragging it down at an agonisingly slow pace before sitting back and allowing him to lift his hips. You drag the fabric down his legs along with his boxers, mouth watering as his already hard length springs free from the confines of the fabric.
“Much better,” you drawl, and he lets out a whimper as your lips kiss a path along the inside of his thigh, ignoring the area he needs you the most before moving to the other.
“Y/N, please do something” he pleads, but you don’t need to be told twice, his thighs jumping when a dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock.
He feels thick and heavy in your palm when you give him an experimental tug, glancing up through your lashes to see his eyes fluttering closed, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.
“Feel good, Mase?” You coo, and his eyes pop open again, the sight of you on your knees between his legs making him feel light headed.
“S-so good” he stutters, hips raising to meet your hand as you twist it over him again before releasing him all together.
You run your fingertips over the underside of his length and he lets out a breathy moan of your name, the sound going straight to your core as you swirl your fingers over his tip and smear the drop of pre cum that’s collected there.
“Fuck, Y/N” he curses, struggling to keep his eyes open as you move your hand back to his base, holding him steady as you lower your head, lips wrapping around his tip.
You flick your tongue over his slit, humming as the salty taste of his pre cum coats your tastebuds and he drops back, resting on his elbows and watching as you take more of him.
You relax your jaw, moving further down his length and taking as much of him as you can whilst your hand works what you can’t fit in your mouth. The sinful sounds that leave his lips only spur you on, continuing to bob your head as you gaze up at him through your lashes.
“Oh my-, fucking hell” he pants, his hand reaching for the back of your head to gather your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. “You’re so good at that”
His eyes squeeze closed when you take him even further and you gag, eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat before pulling back to catch your breath.
Your hands keep up their movements, twisting and tugging until you take him into your mouth again and you let him guide you this time, hollowing your cheeks as he lowers your mouth down his length.
You brace your free hand against his thigh, letting him pick up the pace slightly as you work him towards his release.
“Gonna make me come, Y/N” he sighs, the feeling of your warm mouth around him sending him hurtling towards his orgasm.
“I’ve got you, Mase, come for me” you coo, and he fights to keep his hips still as you pay attention to his head again, tongue swirling over his tip.
One final flick of your tongue over his slit and he’s cuming into your mouth with a grunt, hand tightening in your hair as you work him through his high, swallowing every last drop. You only move away when his hips start bucking from the sensitivity, leaving one final kiss to his tip before sitting back on your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.
After a few moments of comfortable silence he smiles down at you softly, reaching out for you and you take his hands, standing on shaky legs before lowering yourself back into his lap.
“You okay?” he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch when he cups his hand over your jaw.
His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his tongue moving over yours and he hums when he tastes himself on your mouth.
His hands trail up your thighs until he finds your panties, hooking his fingers under the fabric, pulling them back before releasing them to snap against your skin.
“Lets get these off” He mumbles, helping you climb off his lap and you move to stand in front of him, shimmying the scrap of lace down your legs as he watches you with crazed eyes until you’re completely bare in front of him.
“Lay down for me” he requests and you do as he asks, sinking back into the duvet as you rest your head against the pillows.
You watch as he stands, walking around the bed to pick his wallet up from the pile of stuff he brought with him earlier and he pulls out a shiny foil packet before climbing back onto the bed.
“Not so fast, baby girl” he tuts as you reach for it, trying to take it from between his fingers, but he places it to the side instead.
“Lay back and let me love on you a little bit”
He moves to hover over you and his lips are on yours in an instant, staying there for just a moment before trailing his kisses over your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and nibbling on your delicate skin as he makes his way down your throat.
“Mase” The moan tumbles from your lips, nails scratching the skin on the back of his neck as you bring your hand up in a desperate attempt to move him lower.
“What do you want, Angel?” He coos, voice vibrating against your skin as he kisses over your collar bones.
“Y-you, please”
“Patience, baby. Let me take my time with you”
And take his time with you he does, his lips dragging over every inch of skin that he can reach as he learns and memorises all of your favourite spots, the ones that have you making those sweet little noises he’s loving so much.
He mouths over your chest, kissing from one side to the other before closing his lips over your nipple and your back arches to meet his mouth as he licks over the sensitive nub, his hand sliding up your body to pay attention to the other. He gropes at your skin, pinching and tugging at your nipple before switching sides to pay them equal attention.
His other hand stays steady on your waist as his lips continue south, keeping you pressed into the mattress when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, causing you to squirm against him.
“Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asks, and you glance down at him, mind reeling as he gazes back at you through his lashes.
You nod vigorously, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slides his hands up the insides of your thighs, separating them enough to settle between them and his breath fans over your core as he inches closer.
“Fuck, look at you” he coos, teasing two fingers through your folds to collect your wetness and your brain short circuits when he takes them between his lips, humming as you coat his tastebuds.
“Taste incredible”
He uses the same two fingers to circle over your clit, waves of pleasure shooting up your spine, and you can’t help the pathetic moan that falls from your lips, head dropping back against the pillows as he shuffles closer.
“Feel good, Angel?” He hums, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh.
“Yes Mase, fuck. More” you plead, and his mouth finally meets your centre, a barely there kiss being pressed to your clit before he licks a long stripe up your entrance.
His hands move to hold your hips down as he eats you out like you’re his last meal, no longer wanting to hold back and your moans only encourage him. He alternates between licking and sucking, sealing his lips around your little bundle of nerves before dropping to dip his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging against your clit which has you moaning uncontrollably, back arching to meet his mouth.
Your hands fly to the back of his head, needing something to hold onto, and he hums against you when you tug on his hair, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure that you’re feeling.
You’re unable to think straight, the feeling of his mouth against your core making you forget about everything other then him and how good he’s making you feel, and it’s not long until you feel your orgasm creeping up.
“Mase, oh fuck” you sigh, and when he brings a hand between you to slip a finger through your folds, you’re done for.
His other arm hooks under your thigh, holding you open for him as he slips his finger inside of you, pumping it a few times to stretch you out before adding another.
“I’m gonna cum, Mase, oh my god” you whine, and he doesn’t relent, pulsing his fingers inside of you, his tongue working in tandem with them as he swirls it around your bundle of nerves.
“Let go for me, baby” he encourages, and you cum on his tongue as he suctions his lips around your clit, seeing stars as your orgasm hits you like a wave.
He works you through it, licking you clean until you’re tugging at his hair and he moves away, crawling back up your body.
You lay limp underneath him, eyes closed and lips parted as you catch your breath, feeling well and truly spent from the orgasm he just gave you. Your cheeks are flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, and your make up is slightly smudged, but he still swears that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful, his heart fluttering at the sight of you underneath him.
“So pretty” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your cheeks and the butterflies - the ones that have made a permanent home in your stomach - come back out in full force.
You flutter your eyes open and the twinkle that you find in his own has your insides turning to warm, bubbly liquid, his expression swimming with fondness.
“How are you feeling, baby?” He asks, shuffling slightly so that he can rest his weight against one elbow before trailing his free hand up your thigh, massaging your hips where he was gripping before.
“Good” you smile up at him, fingers toying with the chain that still sits around his neck, “More than good, actually. But there is one thing that would make me feel even better”
He raises an eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
You gather as much strength as you can in your post orgasm daze, hooking your legs over his waist to pull his hips down into yours and his eyes widen, realising what you mean.
“Needy girl” he tuts, hissing when you grind your hips and his hard length grazes over your core, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”
“Please Masey. Need to feel you”
“I know baby girl, I’ve got you. Just relax for me”
He gives you a quick yet tender kiss before reaching over to pick up the foil packet from earlier and you shiver as he tears it open, squirming in anticipation as he sits back on his feet and pulls out the condom to roll it down his length.
“You still want to do this?” He asks you for what seems like the tenth time that evening, looking at you with soft eyes.
“Mase, what kind of question is that?” You chuckle, hand coming to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch when you brush your thumb over his skin gently, “Of course I do”
“Just double checking, Angel” he rests his forehead against yours, nose nudging your cheek and your heart soars at the softness of the moment.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, Mase. Need you”
You wrap your arms around his shoulder as he settles on top of you, spreading your legs for him to rest between as he finds a position that’s comfortable.
He runs a gentle, comforting hand over the outside of your thigh, using the other to guide himself towards your entrance and you suck in a breath as he lines himself up, his tip nudging against your slit.
Your quick intake of breath has his eyes snapping up to yours, concern etched onto his features. “What wrong, baby?”
“Nothings wrong” you reassure him, one of your hands finding its rightful place tangled in his hair, “It’s just been a while, just go slowly please?”
“We’ll go at your pace, baby. Just tell me if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?”
“Okay”
You reach down, encouraging him to move with a slow twist of your hand over his length and his lips are back on yours when he lines himself up with your entrance, swallowing your moans as he pushes in until only his tip is buried inside of you.
He gives you a few moments to adjust, not liking how you wince from the slight stretch, but you only nod up at him, encouraging him to keep going and you moan in unison when he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.
“Fucking hell, Y/N. So tight baby” he moans, his raspy voice right next to your ear.
“Let me know when I can move” his thumb brushes in tender circles over your hip, his other hand pressing into the mattress next to your head and you reach for it, unwinding one of your arms from around his shoulders to side your fingers through his.
Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him in a way that has pleasure shooting up his spine and he drops his head into the crook of his neck when you give him the go ahead to start moving.
He keeps his pace slow at first, gauging what you enjoy and what’s comfortable. A slow push and pull of his hips as you learn each others bodies.
“You feel incredible, Angel” he grunts, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips press into you with every thrust.
“Mason, fuck” You scratch your nails over his skin, back arching as he gives one particularly hard thrust that has his tip brushing over your sweet spot, “right there”
“There?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits it again, a desperate moan leaving your lips as he keeps pushing deeper.
“Y-yeah, faster Mase, p-please”
Your stuttered request is barely audible over the sound of your moans but he hears you just fine, picking up his pace as you wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle allows him to hit deeper, finding that sweet spot with every roll of his hips.
Every single thrust feels incredible, his fingers now digging into your waist to hold you steady. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin is all that can be heard as he works you both towards your highs.
“Fuck, Mase, I’m nearly there” you pant, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm and the feeling of him everywhere sending you hurtling towards your realise sooner than you’d expected.
“I’m right behind you, baby” he groans, pulling his head out of your neck when you tug on his hair, wanting to see him when you cum.
He looks ethereal on top of you, the bridge of his nose flushed as well as his cheeks, his hair a mess and falling over his forehead as that chain dangles between you. You reach for it, using it to tug him down and his lips collide with yours in a heated kiss.
“Mason…” you sob, unable to take your eyes off of his when he rests his forehead against yours.
“I know baby, I’ve got you. Let go for me” he encourages, his thumb finding your clit and that’s all you need to go falling over the edge, walls contracting around him as your orgasm hits you.
A wave of white hot pleasure rolls through you, your entire body trembling against him as he works you through it.
He isn’t far behind, pressing his hips to yours as the feeling of your walls fluttering around his length sends him toppling over the edge with a moan of your name.
His thrusts grow sloppy, hips faltering as he thrusts through it, thumb continuing to brush over your clit until you’re pushing his hand away when you get too sensitive.
With one final thrust he goes limp on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, spent from his orgasm. Your hand finds the back of his head, lightly scratching over his scalp as you both take a moment to catch your breaths. Neither of you make any effort to move for a while, Mason staying buried inside of you whilst your heart beats return to a steady pace.
You wince from the sensitivity when he eventually moves to pull out of you slowly, the kisses that he litters over your forehead soothing you before he discards the condom and collapses onto the mattress beside you.
He reaches towards the end of the bed, pulling up the blanket and you don’t hesitate to shuffle into his arms when he opens them for you, settling against his side with your head resting against his chest as he holds you close.
He knows that he should get you cleaned up, but he can’t bring himself to move as you snuggle into him, one arm draped over his waist and a leg hooked over his thighs, so he lets you get comfortable against him, enjoying the warmth of your body pressed into his.
A couple of minuets pass and you stay in a comfortable silence, fiddling with his chain as you rest on his chest, growing more tired by the second as his fingers sooth over your skin. He wishes you could stay like that for the rest of the night, not wanting to disturb you, but when you start to grow heavy against him he knows he needs to get you up before you fall asleep completely.
“Come on” he hums, lightly tapping your shoulder to encourage you to move. “Got to get you cleaned up, bubba”
You don’t make any effort to move, quite content with staying in his arms and not leaving for the foreseeable future.
“I’m tired” You groan as he resorts to gently pushing you off of him, rolling off the bed completely before holding his hands out for you to take, but you bury your face into the pillows and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, missing his warmth immediately.
The bed dips under his weight as he kneels back onto the mattress, hands massaging into your shoulders before rolling you over to face him.
You pout up at him, shaking your head in protest. You know you’ll regret it in the morning if you go straight to sleep without properly getting ready for bed, but nothing sounds better than climbing back under the sheets with him and falling asleep.
“I know, but the quicker we get in that shower the quicker we can get back into bed” he tells you softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as you gaze up at him sleepily. “Let me take care of you, bubs”
His gentle smile and sweet words are enough to have you crumbling, holding your arms out for him and he doesn’t need to ask to understand what you want.
He effortlessly scoops you up, a kiss being pressed to your temple as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through to the en-suite bathroom, careful to avoid the clothes that are still scattered around the floor.
He switches the bathroom lights on, keeping them on the dim setting when he notices you squinting from the brightness and moves to set you down on the counter.
Reaching to the side, he picks up your make up bag, looking through it to find some of your makeup wipes before taking one out of the packet. You try and take it from him but he swats your hand away, tilting your chin up with his fingers before bringing the wipe to your cheek.
Your heart flutters at how gentle he’s being with you as he takes his time, swiping the wipe over your skin as he makes sure to get every last bit of makeup. His little focused face makes you giggle, his tongue popping out from between his lips as he concentrates, being extra careful when he gets to your eyes.
He presses a tender kiss to your lips once he’s finished, throwing the wipe into the bin before turning around to get the shower started and your mouth dries at the sight of his back when he faces away from you.
Red scratches decorate his skin, some travelling as high as his neck and you watch as his back flexes when he reaches for the taps to set the water temperature. You feel yourself heat from head to toe at the sight, struggling to keep your composure when he turns to face you again, instantly noticing your flushed cheeks.
“What’s up, bubba?” He asks, hands coming to rest on your hips as he moves to stand between your spread legs.
“I don’t think you should let anyone else see you shirtless for a couple of days” You tell him, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a giggle.
“Why? What did you do?”
He moves away from you to look at his reflection in the mirror, eye brows furrowing when he doesn’t find any hickeys or marks like he had expected to.
He looks back to you confused, but you wiggle your finger in a circle, telling him to turn around. He does, looking back at his reflection over his shoulder and you can see the moment he realises, his jaw dropping slightly as he takes in the scratches and marks left by your nails.
“You really didn’t hold back did you?”
“Sorry”
“Don’t be. Just means that I made you feel good” he says with confidence, winking at you with a cocky smirk playing on his lips.
You swat at his chest, not needing to admit that he’s right because you both already know the answer.
He holds a hand out for you, helping you off the counter and steadying you when you stand on wobbly legs, your body aching in the best way possible as he guides you towards the shower.
He steps in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and your body slumps into his, face finding a home in the crook of his neck as the water cascades over you.
“You okay?” He mumbles right next to your ear and you nod in response, letting out a content sigh as you nuzzle into his skin.
You stay like that for a while, the water soothing your aching bodies before he reaches over and takes your travel sized shampoo from the little shelf behind you. He squeezes a generous amount into his palm, lathering it up before bringing his hands to your hair and you hold onto his waist, needing something to steady yourself as the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp sends you into a state of complete bliss.
He rinses it out after a couple of minuets - still way too soon for your liking - and repeats the process with your conditioner, letting you do the same thing for him.
As soon as you’re both washed off he gets out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before taking another and holding it out for you. Getting out behind him, you step into the towel, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.
You both get dried off, changing into the fluffy hotel robes before he moves to leave the bathroom, wanting to give you some privacy to finish up your nighttime routine, but you take a hold of his hand, not wanting him to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere, bubs” he reassures, noticing a faint look of panic on your features. He slides his fingers between yours, giving them a tight squeeze, “I’m just going to tidy the clothes up and grab you something to sleep in okay? I’ll be back in a few minuets”
“Okay, sorry” you mumble, loosening your grip on his hand, feeling silly for getting so paranoid all of a sudden. “I just don’t want you to leave”
His expression softens. “I’m not leaving, Bambi. I promise. Could never leave you”
He presses a series of kisses to your face, one to your forehead, one to your cheek, one of your nose - that one has you giggling - and finally one to your lips, making sure that you’re smiling again when he disappears into the bedroom.
You busy yourself with drying your hair whilst he picks up your abandoned clothes, placing them into a neater pile next to your suitcase so that they can be dealt with in the morning.
He grabs the spare blanket from the wardrobe and puts it on the bed, switching the main lights off so that only the beside lamp is left on before changing into his clean pair of boxers and finding his toothbrush and the t-shirt that he brought with him earlier.
You’re just turning the hair dryer off when he comes back into the bathroom, brushing through your hair as he places his toothbrush next to yours on the counter. The sight of them next to each other has your heart flip-flopping in your chest, the action oddly domestic.
The multiple bottles and pots of skin care products that you have laid out catch his attention when he comes to stand beside you and he picks one up, reading over the bottle curiously.
“What’s all this?”
“You don’t know?” You meet his eyes through the reflection, surprised when he shakes his head in response. But his skin is always so clear?
“Can you show me?” He asks timidly, watching as you nod before jumping up onto the counter again.
You spread your legs, pulling him to step between them and his hands rest against your thighs as you pick up the first bottle, squeezing some of the serum onto your fingers before massaging it into his face. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation of you working the products into his skin, tracing the contours of his face as you tell him what each product is and explain what it’s used for.
He listens to your every word, loving how passionate you seem about it and making a mental note to ask you what they are again in the morning, so that he can buy some of the products for himself and keep some at his house for when you stay over.
You finish up with one of your favourite moisturisers before running through the same routine on yourself, letting Mason help when he insists and enjoying the feeling of being pampered by him.
“Thank you” you mumble, leaning forward to brush your lips over his in a soft kiss and he reciprocates, stepping back to allow you to jump off the counter when you pull away.
“Here, put this on” he says, handing you the t-shirt that he brought in, and you happily change into it, his scent lingering on the fabric and filling your senses as the material falls to your upper thigh.
The sight of you in his clothes is one he wants to see for the rest of his life.
You stand side by side at the sink and brush your teeth together, pulling faces at each other through the mirror as you do before following him back through to the bedroom.
You climb into bed first, getting comfortable under the duvet as he plugs his phone in to charge, begrudgingly setting an alarm for the morning. You both know it’ll be a struggle to wake up, but your flight back up to Manchester leaves at 10am, and you still need to make it to the airport before then.
But that’s a problem for the morning. All you’re concerned about now is holding him.
He settles under the sheets next to you, cuddling into your open arms and sliding you closer with an arm hooked over your waist. Your legs tangle together, bodies pressed close as he snuggles into you, his head finding it’s home in the crook of your neck.
He sighs contentedly, melting into you as you rest a hand on his arm and trace the outlines of his tattoos with your fingertips, his own sneaking under your (his) t-shirt to draw random patterns onto the soft skin of your tummy.
It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in weeks. The feeling of being in your arms bringing him a sense of comfort that he never thought possible, but he knows you still have something to talk about, and he’s about to bring it up when you beat him to it.
“What does this mean?” You whisper, the question that’s been on your mind for the past half an hour finally slipping through your lips as you raise your free hand and brush your fingers through his hair.
“It means I’m yours Y/N” he mumbles into your skin before pulling his head from your neck. He shuffles up your body slightly, moving so that he’s hovering above you. “If you’ll have me”
Your hand moves from his hair to instead cup his jaw, your fingertips lightly scratching through his beard as you gently pull him down to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.
“I like you, like a lot” you tell him when you separate, but you keep him close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders
“I’m way beyond like, baby” He admits, a soft smile tugging at his lips and he knows it’s soon, but his heart feels like it’s bursting, and he can’t hold it in any longer.
“I’m in love with you Y/N, I have been for a long time”
He watches you carefully, waiting for any kind of reaction, and he’s a little worried when you don’t have one, your face staying neutral as his words sink in.
But then comes the smile, your lips tilting up as a look of complete and utter joy paints your features.
You’re overwhelmed by different emotions, cheeks hurting from how wide you’re smiling and you can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his again, stealing his breath away with a searing kiss.
The taste of your minty toothpaste still lingers on his tongue when he pushes it through the seem of your lips, working it against yours in slow, languid strokes as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, his fingers gently tilting your head back and your hand slides around to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.
Your chest is heaving when you eventually pull back, looking up up at him through your lashes as you catch your breath. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed and his damp hair messy from you running your fingers through it.
“You don’t have to say it back, I know you might not feel the same but I-“
“Mason, are you kidding me?” You cut him off, cupping his face in both of your palms. “I’m so in love with you”
A breath of relief leaves his parted lips upon hearing your words, his heart rate settling as you look up at him with twinkling eyes.
“I always have been, Mase. You mean absolutely everything to me”
“Yeah?”
You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding up at him with complete certainty.
“Mason you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve never felt this way before and I know that I won’t feel it for anyone other than you. You’re it for me”
His eyes shine with emotion, his jaw aching from how hard he’s smiling. He feels like he’s floating, your words putting him on cloud nine.
“I love everything about you, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful, but it’s not just that. You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re funny, you make me feel wanted in a way I’ve never experienced before, I’ve waited my whole life for this and now that I have you, I’m never letting you go”
“Good, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours Masey”
You lean up, pressing your lips to his in one final kiss and when he rolls off of you, you move with him. He lays back against the mattress, arms opening wide for you to climb into and you settle against his chest as he adjusts the duvet over you.
“When we get home I’m taking you on a date” he tells you, and you tilt your head up to look at him. “I know you’re already mine, but I want to do this properly, and that includes you letting me spoil you”
Mine. You want to hear it over and over.
“Can I choose the restaurant?” You query, already making a mental list of places that you could go.
“Only if you let me choose the movie when we get back to mine after”
“Who said that I’ll be going back to yours?”
“Just because it’s our ‘first’ -” he lifts his hand, making air quotes, “ - date that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the gentlemanly thing and drop you home with a kiss to your cheek after”
“Looks like you’re picking the movie then” You pat his chest, giggling as he mumbles a quiet ‘good’ and you settle back onto his arms with a yawn.
He leans over to turn the lamp off, the room overcome with complete darkness as he pulls the blankets up to your chin.
“Get some sleep, bubba. Early start tomorrow” He whispers with a kiss to your forehead and you groan into his chest.
“Don’t remind me. Can’t we just stay here forever?”
That really does sound like the best idea ever. Here. As in the little bubble that you’ve built together in this hotel room. You’re not ready for it to pop.
“I wish we could Bambi, but I want to get home and take you on that date”
“I wonder what Lewis will say” you murmur.
Your families have been rooting you you both to get together for years, so you know he’ll be happy for you, but telling him as well as the rest of your families somehow seems really scary.
“Well, I was thinking-“
“Oh no” you cut him off, and he chuckles, chest rumbling under your cheek.
“How about we keep this to ourselves for a bit?” He suggests, fingers sliding between yours where they lay against his chest. “No one needs to know just yet, we’ll just take it slow and tell them when we’re ready”
“I like the sound of that. Just me and you for a little while”
“Exactly” he sighs, already looking forward to getting you home and exploring this new dynamic with you.
He feels whole as he glances down at you through the darkness, a wide smile painting his lips and he doesn’t think it’ll be leaving any time soon. He’s spent what feels like a life time waiting for this, waiting for his person, waiting for you. He’s not sure he’s ever been happier than he feels in this moment, all of his worries forgotten about as you lay in his arms.
He can just about manage to make out your features and his heart is bursting at the seams with love for you as he leans down to press another kiss to the top of your head.
“Goodnight, Bambi”
“Night, Mase. Love you”
———————
a/n: If you have made it this far I just want to say a massive THANK YOU! I really do hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻 Feedback is appreciated as always 🤍
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unearthly-doting · 3 months
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yandere farmer
a/n: smth smth i Really like people w southern accents smth smth so here's a farmer. im not 100% satisfied w this one but it's been in my drafts for so long so here it is.
warnings: mdni, not proofread, yandere content, gn reader, male yandere, idk how cars work so, overprotective behavior, obsessive behavior, reader has hair in this sorry if u dont, murder, brief mention of vomit, non-con kissing, mild depictions of gore, choking, i think that's it??
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— maybe it's a bit cliché but life in the big city was exhausting, and all you wanted to do was get away from it all. it was a bit sudden, deciding you wanted to uproot your entire life and start somewhere new, but you knew that this is exactly what you needed.
— and it's not as if you weren't going into this blind. a friend of yours had a family vacation home in a small farm town that hadn't been used in years, and they were willing to let you stay there until you could find a place of your own.
— you had everything planned out. you had enough money on you for gas and food for the drive there, and you had already had some of your stuff shipped off to your new temporary home, so you didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind. you even kept a little extra money on you in case you needed to crash at a motel.
— the drive had started off fine. traffic wasn't too bad as you left the city, and there were no major setbacks until you were almost at your destination. when you were 20 miles out from the farmer town you'd be living in, your car just suddenly died on you. it still had gas in the tank, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car itself, it just… died.
— what's worse is the fact that your phone had no service. you suppose that's not too shocking, considering how far out in the country you are, but it's a bit shocking, isn't it? you're not that educated on farming life or this small town, but surely they had modern technology, right?
— it's cliché, honestly. it felt like the start of some cheap slasher. or maybe a southern christmas romance movie. you're not quite sure which would be worse. the slasher, realistically. whatever, you're getting off track.
— the point is, your car is dead, your phone is useless, and it's starting to get dark. you could probably make it to that motel you saw a few miles back, but you didn't really feel comfortable leaving your car out here alone. not to mention you're not even sure if you have enough money on you to cover one night at a motel.
— the universe, in all her mercy, takes pity on you before you can get too upset over your plight, because not even 20 minutes after your car stops, a truck drives by. it's beat up, but it slows to a stop next to your car. the window rolls down, revealing the driver to be a man just a little older than you.
— he asked if you needed help, and offered to tow your car and drive you to town. you didn't have much choice but to agree, and the drive to town was… not as awkward as you thought it would be, actually.
— the man introduced himself as rigby shaw, a farmer that lives on the outskirts of town. you actually drove by his farm maybe 15 miles back, and he had been heading into town to pick up some medication for one of his dogs when he saw you pacing outside your car. in turn, you told him how you were moving into the small town because life in the city had been overwhelming.
— rigby didn't think you'd survive long outside of the city. city folk rarely ever strive in small, out of touch towns, away from modern technology. the small handful that made their way here always went back to the city not even three months into being here, so he didn't expect to see you last long either. you were nicer than most city folk, though.
— but you were determined to make a living out here, so when rigby dropped you off, you got to work immediately. you unpacked your stuff that had been there waiting for you, and in the morning, you got to work trying to fix your car. turns out, your fan belt had somehow come loose just enough that your car could no longer function. why? who knows, maybe the universe was in a silly mood.
— anyways, you settled into the small town life with relative ease, and rigby was very surprised when he returned to town a few weeks later, you were still there. the only thing you were struggling with was finding a job. maybe because he was fascinated by your determination, but rigby ended up offering you a job on his farm. he did need help taking care of the crops and feeding the animals there, but he mostly just wanted to learn more about you.
— you were a fast learner, and his dogs took to you fairly quickly. the cattle and horses were a little less trusting, though that was expected. he's sure they'll take to you soon enough, given how you respect their boundaries and go at their pace unlike his previous farmhands. you had no problem taking on any challenge rigby had set up for you, and maybe that's when he started finding himself thinking about you.
— if he's out in town while you're on the farm, he's worrying that you might get injured without him around. you can take care of yourself, but he can't help but worry. same for when you're in town while he's on the farm. you’re still an outsider there, and he knows that some of the townsfolk may try scaring you off. or maybe they'll try hurting you. or maybe you'll be completely fine and he's just overreacting.
— he starts hovering around you more often when you're on his farm, jumping in to help you whenever he thinks you might be struggling with something. you think he's just worried you might fuck his crops up or something, so you never really pay much mind to his behavior. it only struck you as odd when he insisted on helping you feed the dogs of all things. was he scared you would poison them? you wouldn't, obviously, so you don't know why he'd think that.
— his behavior only seems to escalate when you meet a guy in town one day and start going on casual dates with him. he was… shocked, when you asked to take the day off because of some guy. in the months that you've been living in town, you had never shown any interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with… anyone, truly. you had always seemed so dedicated to working on the farm and making a living for yourself, rigby had never even considered you could want anything other than that.
— at first, he felt disappointed. why would you prioritize dates with some guy when you could be working on the farm with him instead? it took him a bit to realize that disappointment he was feeling was jealousy. he hated when you'd step away from him to accept calls from your new boyfriend. he hated how you stopped eating lunch with him in favor of eating it with your boyfriend.
— your boyfriend wasn't even that great of a guy. rigby did some research on him–it's not stalking, he's just making sure it's safe for you to date this guy!–and he was not pleased with what he found. you could do so much better! you didn't understand why rigby was so interested in your boyfriend, always asking questions about how he treats you, if he's really what you're looking for in a relationship, if you actually loved him…
— you couldn't help but notice how touchy rigby has become as well, his hands always lingering on you far too long when he helps you with your work. you swear that you've heard him smell your hair a few times when he's close as well. he's been acting weird ever since you officially started dating your boyfriend. he's even going as far as to pile more work on top of you, leaving little free time for you to spend with your lover.
— it's gotten unbearable to the point where you decided you ultimately needed to find a new place to work. you liked rigby, he was a great guy with a kind heart, but his behavior was bordering on obsession and you didn't want to enable this behavior by ignoring it. your boyfriend agreed, and with his help, you were able to find a job at the local market in town.
— rigby was not pleased when he heard you on the phone with your lover, talking about how you'd tell him you were quitting after you finished work.
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You're not really sure what happened. One moment, you were on the phone with your boyfriend and then the next, you were being hit in the head and everything had gone dark. The sun had only just started setting when you had been knocked out, but it was completely dark outside when you had woken up.
Your head was pounding as you opened your eyes, looking around in an attempt to figure out what the hell had happened to you. You were still on the farm, that much you knew. The first thing that worried you was the fact that your hands were bound to a wooden post, leaving you unable to move without injuring yourself. Your phone was broken on the ground, so it was completely useless.
Did a trespasser knock you out? It's not the first person people have trespassed on the farm, trying to steal the horses or ‘save’ the animals Rigby had. You had assumed that to be the case, because… what else could have happened for you to be tied up like this?
“Rigby?!” You shout his name, wincing at the throbbing in your head as you did so. Was he okay? Was he hurt? What if something happened to him? What if–
Your panicked thoughts get put on pause when a light blinded you, and you shied away from it as best as you could as you tried to figure out its source. It seemed to be a flashlight, and you only realized who was holding it when they got closer.
For a moment, you relaxed at the sight of Rigby, relieved to see he was okay as he approached, though there was something off about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem injured, yet there was blood on his hands. Or maybe it was the… borderline crazed look in his eyes.
Something wasn't right.
“Rigby…?” You hesitantly called his name, your relief bleeding away into a reluctant unease, “Are you okay? What happened? Why am I tied up?”
His silence did little to help you as he set his flashlight down on the ground and started undoing your binds. Your wrists felt raw as you gently rubbed them once they were free, standing up while Rigby retrieved his flashlight.
“Rigby, what the hell is going on?” You ask, growing frustrated at being left in the dark. You had been knocked out and tied up, so you think you deserve some sort of explanation as to what had happened.
“I have a gift for you.” Rigby says, completely dodging your question as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him. His grip was tight, almost bruising as he dragged you along, ignoring you when you asked him to loosen his grip on you. He refused to answer any of your questions, and you were starting to get worried.
You've never been scared of Rigby. Sure, his behavior lately had been concerning, but you had no reason to be scared. But right now, you couldn't help but feel a bit afraid as he led you in the dark. Your concern only grew when you realized he was taking you to the barn the pigs were kept in.
“Will you just tell me what's going on?” Your words fall upon deaf ears as he passes the flashlight to you, motioning for you to take the lead as he opens the barn doors. You hesitate before shining the flashlight in the barn, slowly stepping forward.
Most of the pigs were sleeping in their own separate stalls, a few were watching you and Rigby with indifference as you both stepped deeper into the barn. But two things stood out to you. One, a handful of pigs were nowhere to be seen. Two, there was this weird… squelching sound coming from the back of the barn.
“It's just back there.” Rigby says, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing you to jump. You hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. You scurry forward just to get some distance. Truthfully, you didn't want to see this ‘gift’ Rigby was talking about, but you knew that you couldn't turn back.
Deep down, you knew something horrible was about to happen. The squelching sound grew louder, and you could hear the sound of chewing along with it. When you looked back at Rigby for some sort of reassurance, he just had this strange smile on his face. It sent a chill down your spine.
And when you hesitantly looked in the last stall at the very back of the barn to see the source of the noise, your ‘gift’, you dropped the flashlight in horror and let out a scream as you stumbled back right into Rigby's arms.
On the ground was your boyfriend's corpse, his face nearly maimed beyond recognition as several pigs chewed at his body. You're lucky you're able to swallow the vomit in your throat as you try to get out of Rigby's hold, looking away from the horrific scene in front of you as you cried.
“Let go of me!” You claw at his arms, but he just holds you tightly against his chest, gently shushing you as he forces you to watch the pigs eat.
“Do you like it?” He asks, completely ignoring your horror, “It wasn't hard getting him to come here. I just told him you had an accident, and suddenly, he was on his way. Isn't that sweet? It's a shame he wasn't stronger… he never would've been able to protect you if someone tried hurting you. But I can, see? I can give you what you deserve.”
You weren't even listening to his deluded words, trying to squirm out of his hold, “You're a fucking monster.” You spit out, a sharp gasp being torn out of your mouth when he shoves you against the wall of the barn, his hand around your throat as he lightly squeezes. A subtle threat, one that had you shutting up.
“I expect some fucking gratitude, you ungrateful brat.” Rigby’s voice is cold, his anger had never been something you'd ever been on the receiving end of, “I did this for you. For us. You should be thanking me.” His hand on your throat tightens, squeezing the air out of your lungs, his gaze hard as he stares at you expectantly.
Desperate for air, you're barely able to wheeze out a small, “Thank you.”
As black spots start to fill your vision, Rigby removes his hand from your neck, and you're able to breathe again. His anger was gone, replaced with delighted satisfaction.
“Of course, darlin’.” He sweetly says, a bloodied hand coming up to gently wipe the tears off your face, “I'd do anything for you. I can provide for you, so just be good for me in return, okay?”
And as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a heated desperation, you find yourself missing the city for the first time since you left it.
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theemporium · 3 months
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[14.5k] ethan edwards was prepared for his rookie year in the nhl. he just wasn't prepared for a rat infestation, an unlikely roommate and to fall in love too. (smutty scenes mostly implied)
aka a fic based in the future when ethan finally joins the devils so don’t take anything remotely seriously!
happy birthday @httplando!! enjoy the belated birthday fic🤠gonna go mute you now before you spam my phone with voice notes of you giggling over ethan xoxo
.
SEPTEMBER
Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.
He had long come to terms with the fact he was in the National Hockey League. It still felt surreal but the reality had long sunk in since the day he was drafted. This was his goal. This was his dream. And he had made it. 
And he knew it would be different from hockey in any other league he had played. He knew it would be faster, harder, more demanding than college hockey. He knew that he would be pushing his body to levels he had never experienced. He knew he was mentally going to go through some of the toughest months of his life as he settled into the big leagues. He knew he was taking the sport he loved to a whole new level and he was prepared for that. 
He was prepared for his rookie year. 
He wasn’t prepared to fall in love with you. 
More than that, he wasn’t prepared to fall in love and not fucking realise it. Especially when you were his fucking roommate. 
Though, when he thought about it, the signs from the universe directing you onto his life path was there long before his first game as a New Jersey Devil. 
“Have you signed for a place yet?” Luke had asked him during the summer, somewhere in the days between wakeboarding and sunbathing and enjoying the freedom of his last stress-free summer before he entered the professional league. 
“I’ve got a few potential options but it’s fine,” Ethan had replied, dozing off on the sunlounger with his eyes closed beneath his sunglasses. “I’ve got time before training camp starts. There’s no rush.” 
And honestly? It was his own stupid ignorance that led to the karma of his current situation. 
“We do apologise, Mr Edwards, but there is nothing we can do. The building manager won’t be able to fix the problems before your move in date and we have no available lots to accommodate you until the problems are solved.”
Ethan tried to let the woman’s soothing voice calm him, but it was hard to find any peace in the words she was saying. “So, I’m homeless?”
“Once again, we do apologise for the inconvenience but the apartment is completely inhabitable.”
Because of fucking course he would find himself scrambling for last minute accommodation in Jersey, days before he was meant to meet his new team and start settling in to his rookie year. The universe couldn’t be too nice to him, not in the year he knew was going to be one of the roughest of his life. 
So, he did what any sane person would do and had a total breakdown on the phone to his mother. And then he called Luke, feeling somewhat spiteful that the boy jinxed his luck earlier that summer. The least he could do is help him out now. 
After Luke had spent the first five minutes laughing because, in his words, “who the fuck has a rat infested apartment in Jersey?”
“Can you help me or not?” Ethan sighed, fingers pressed against his temples in hopes it would ease the ache that had been lingering behind his eyes since he first picked up the phone from the estate agent that morning. 
“I mean, I’m sure Nico or one of the other guys wouldn’t mind taking you in. Jack stayed with—” Luke started but a distressed noise from Ethan cut him short.
“Yeah but Jack was, like, eighteen. I’m meant to be a fucking college graduate,” Ethan grumbled, his cheeks burning. “What impression would that set for the guys on the team?” 
Luke paused. “You’re absolutely reading far too much into this.”
Ethan scoffed. “I think my reaction is justified.”
“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled under his breath before sighing. “I have a friend that was looking for a roommate, actually. You could always stay with them until your place is sorted. The apartment isn’t too far from the rink.”
“Someone on the team?”
“No, someone else.” 
Ethan blinked. “You have friends outside of hockey? Outside of me?”
“Yes, Ethan, I have other friends. You aren’t my only friend.”
“You think you know people and they stab you in the back,” Ethan sighed, far too dramatically (in Luke’s opinion).
“Look, do you want the place or not?” 
“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan quickly spoke up. “That would be perfect. Send me your friend’s number.” 
.
Now, when Luke had told Ethan that he had a friend—a non-hockey friend, at that—that was looking for a roommate, he wasn’t exactly sure what or who was expecting. He didn’t like to make assumptions on people when he knew little to nothing about them. It didn’t feel polite.
But he feels like he’s pretty fucking justified in feeling duped by the youngest Hughes brother when he finds out his new roommate isn’t a guy at all. 
In Ethan’s opinion, that feels like pretty fucking important information to reveal before he shows up at your door with his car down below packed up with bags and boxes down in the carpark. 
Because now, he looks like a fucking idiot when you open the door and he is left standing there, frozen and mouth open like a fish whilst every English word is thrown out of his head. 
“You must be Ethan,” you said eventually, because Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to speak after a painful thirty seconds. “Luke’s friend?”
“Uh yeah,” he cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by his reaction with blushing cheeks. “Thank you so much, by the way. You’re really doing me a huge favour.”
“Luke said you were desperate.”
Ethan wanted to disagree but he couldn’t. Not really.
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he tried to laugh off, though your face remained mostly unimpressed. “So—”
“Your room is the one on the left. Your bathroom is right next door. Three cupboards have been emptied for you in the kitchen and you have the top shelves in the fridge,” you stated, so matter-of-factly that Ethan could only blink in response. “Any questions?”
“No?” 
“Great,” and with that, you wandered further into the apartment, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway dumbfounded. 
OCTOBER
It didn’t take long for Ethan to realise you had some walls around you, and small talk was certainly not the way to get past them.
It was a shift to the roommates he was used to, fresh out of college and having spent the better part of the last four years staying with some of his closest friends and teammates. But it wasn’t totally unwelcome on his part. It was kind of nice to have a space that wasn’t so…hockey.
And it helped that he had his own space. 
September passed in the blink of an eye and soon training camp became the real deal. It felt surreal to think he was really in the NHL now, that he was a professional hockey player, that this was his job and his livelihood now. 
But it also felt fucking great. 
The schedule of an NHL player was no joke and it was certainly not something Luke exaggerated—despite what Ethan assumed during the summer. It was intense and tiring and he didn’t have much time to think about anything else. 
Except maybe his ice cold, standoffish roommate. 
As the regular season began, Ethan had come to a few conclusions. 
.
One: you were not a morning person, especially before having any form of caffeine. That was something he learnt the hard way. 
Early morning practices were nothing new to Ethan. He wasn’t exactly an early bird, but his body had trained itself to familiarise itself with the early mornings after years and years of playing hockey. It was the norm for him, to be awake as the sun started peeking through the horizon and the rest of the world was about to wake up.
He wouldn’t call himself chipper, not really. He was just as energetic as he normally is.
You seemed to disagree. 
“Morning, stranger!” Ethan greeted you as you shuffled into the kitchen, with a boyish grin on his face and a spatula in hand.
You didn’t even glance at him as you shuffled towards the fridge. 
“Not a morning person, got it,” Ethan nodded, biting back his smile as you turned to glare at him. 
“It’s half six in the morning,” you grumbled. “Why are you so loud?” 
“My mum says it’s a part of my charm.” 
You didn’t look very amused in response. 
The following mornings seemed to fit the same routine. Even on the days he didn’t have practice or meetings, Ethan would find himself waking up early and starting his day around the same time you would be up for work. He would be chatty, you would look like you wanted to gauge his eyes out. It was oddly comforting. 
Somewhere in the middle of the second week of this fixed routine, he began to feel confident enough in watching your routine to know exactly what you needed the second you walked out your room. 
“Good morning!” 
You blinked, staring at the steaming mug he was currently offering you. It took you a few seconds to process the sight before you realised you hadn’t spoken.
“What’s this?” You questioned, a questioning look in your eyes. 
“Coffee. Made exactly the way you like it.” Ethan stayed confidently, his grin widening as you took a sip and let out an appreciative hum. 
“Thanks,” was all you said before shuffling around the kitchen to continue with the rest of his routine. 
On the days he was in Jersey, there was always a coffee cup waiting for you every morning. 
.
Two: you were always cold. Always. No matter what the temperature was outside.
In all honesty, Ethan didn’t get it at all. From what he had gathered in his conversations with you and what Luke told him, you had spent a fair chunk of your life in New Jersey so, if he was being honest, he thought you would have been somewhat used to the colder temperatures. 
But walking into the apartment after afternoon practice to find you bundled on the couch like you were in a blizzard told Ethan that assumption was far from the truth.
“Did the heating break?” was the first thing he asked when he saw you, a wave of concern washing over him as he dumped his bags at the door and made his way to the thermostat.
“No,” you murmured from somewhere in the pile of blankets. “S’just cold.”
Ethan paused, reading the thermostat before turning back to you with an amused expression on his face. “It’s kinda warm for Jersey in October today.”
There was a bit of rustling before your head popped up from amongst the blankets, your eyes narrowed in accusation. “Not all of us are professional athletes sweating their asses off for two hours.”
“In an ice rink,” he added with a grin.
Your glare hardened. 
“Do you want a hot water bottle?” 
You paused for a few moments before nodding with a sheepish expression. “Please.”
Ethan huffed out a laugh before he made his way into the kitchen, kettle filled and turned on before he went to hunt down the hot water bottle he was pretty sure his mother had packed away somewhere in his stuff when he moved away from Michigan.
He returned a few minutes later, lightly nudging the pile of blankets until your face popped up again and your eyes softened at the hot water bottle. He couldn’t help but giggle at the way you quickly snatched it from him, murmuring your thanks as it disappeared under the blankets. 
“Any time,” Ethan said, and he meant it.
.
Three: you really didn’t open up to strangers. Or roommates. Or anyone, really. 
He wasn’t exactly sure how Luke Hughes of all people managed to wiggle his way into a friendship with you, but it was an anomaly that had been wracking his brain for the last few weeks.
It was a week or so before Halloween and he was laying on the couch, his brows furrowed together as he tried to scroll through the internet for an idea of what he could wear to the Halloween party one of the boys were hosting. 
“Why do you look constipated?” 
His head snapped up, finding you standing at the end of the couch. You had two smoothies in your hand, the bag you take to your classes still on your shoulder and your shoes still on. He briefly glanced at the time, frowning a little when he realised he had been sitting there for the better part of two hours before he turned back to you.
“Trying to figure out a last minute Halloween costume,” he told you, eyebrows raised in surprise as you handed him one of the smoothies. He smiled as he took it, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp before you settled down on the other side of the couch. “I wanted to do something with Seamus and Luke but Seamus said he had his sorted and Luke said he was doing a joint costume with someone else.” 
“Oh yeah, me,” you answered casually and Ethan tried to hide his shock. 
“You’re coming?”
“Yeah?” You responded, giving him an odd look. “Luke always invites me to these things. He’s also hopeless with costumes.” 
“I didn’t realise you and Luke were so…close,” he said vaguely, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised what his words sounded like. “Not that it’s any of my business—”
“You’re right, it’s not.” You shrugged, taking a long sip from your smoothie before continuing. “But he’s one of my closest friends.” 
Ethan nodded, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at your words. “How did you two meet?” 
“The strip club.”
Ethan blanched. 
“Geez, you’re more gullible than Luke,” you commented, the hint of a smile on your lips. “You ask a lot of questions, Edwards.”
“I’m a nosy person,” he answered honestly with a shrug. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“Because there isn’t much to it.” 
And, in your defence, he knew you didn’t owe him any answers. But he was curious and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around how close you and Luke were—close enough for you to willingly accept one of Luke’s friends as your roommate for an indefinite amount of time. 
And, at the crux of it, he didn’t understand how Luke was able to get through to you when he couldn’t. 
Ethan was never one to brag but he was a magnet for people. It helped him thrive in hockey, always willing to be that guy on the team that people feel like they could always talk to. It helped him thrive at university, being a social butterfly that could always make a friend in any situation. 
It usually helped. 
So yeah, maybe Ethan was a little stumped why you didn’t seem to want to be his friend, not in the way you were with Luke and some of the other guys on the team. It seemed like being your roommate added a wall he didn’t know how to break down. 
And when the Halloween party happened, it felt like seeing a whole new person when you were chatting and laughing with Luke. 
You looked more at ease as you stood next to him, happily sipping on whatever drink he had gotten for you from the kitchen. You seemed more relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you laughed at whatever joke Curtis had made at Luke’s expense. 
It fuelled a fire for Ethan, one he hadn’t realised had been started before that night. But he didn’t just want to be your roommate anymore, he didn’t like having that wall between you. 
He wanted to be your friend too. 
NOVEMBER
Three months into the NHL told Ethan that it was really no joke.
He was expecting the more intense training and physical playing. He was expecting his body to feel more tired, more hungry, more sore. He was expecting the ruthless journalists and vocal fans and tougher coaches. 
He wasn’t expecting the mental toll of realising that hockey was all he had in his life. 
It was stupid to complain about, considering it was his dream and all, but it was true. Hockey was his whole world right now. He woke up thinking about hockey, he went to the rink thinking about hockey, he made his dinner thinking about hockey, and then he went to sleep thinking about hockey. 
Nine times out of ten, he dreamt about hockey too.
It was different to the hockey he knew growing up, or the hockey he experienced in Michigan. Because at least in Michigan, there were classes or parties or concerts or something to take his mind off hockey. 
But it wasn’t the same in New Jersey.
There were hangouts with Luke and Seamus, or team bonding sessions organised by Nico. There were drinks at the bar after a good game to celebrate, or a particularly bad one they needed cheering up after. There were fun trips around cities he had never properly explored when they were away on roadies. 
But it was all still linked to hockey. 
And he guessed he wasn’t great at hiding his conundrum when Nico skated up beside him near the end of practice, throwing out the offer to grab a coffee and chat after they finished their debrief with the coaching staff. 
.
For what it was worth, Nico didn’t think he sounded stupid when he explained himself. If anything, the captain was quite understanding. 
“I had it when I first moved,” he had confessed as they sat in some urban coffee shop in a part of the city Ethan hadn’t properly explored before. But Nico swore up and down it had the best coffee to offer. “I was young and I was here for hockey so I thought my whole life had to be hockey.”
“What changed?” Ethan asked, hands wrapped around the big mug his latte was in like it would give him something to do, something to focus on rather than the restless itch under his skin.
“The older guys,” Nico said with a knowing smile. “The ones that learnt how to balance life and hockey. The ones with wives and families and friends outside of the team.”
Ethan’s brows furrowed together. “You think I should go get married?” 
“Not right away,” Nico laughed, shaking his head. “But I know how easy it is to get wrapped up in the rookie year nonsense and everything. And you should be enjoying that, for sure. But there’s more to life than hockey, which is quite hard to believe right now. But it’s true, whether it’s a wife—or husband—and family or a hobby or a group of friends you can be a different Ethan with.”
Ethan nodded, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. “Hobbies?” 
“Yeah, something different to hockey,” Nico explained. “Something that doesn’t require you to give up too much time and take your focus away from hockey, but instead be a respite from everything. Like cooking!”
He blinked. “Cooking?” 
“You cook right now because you have to and you follow the diet plan the trainers give you. But you can find enjoyment in cooking because you want to,” Nico assured him, leaning back in his chair with a sure expression. “Give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”
.
As it turns out, the worst that could happen is that Ethan is a fucking horrible cook. 
He tried to hold back his coughs, waving the tea towel aimlessly under the beeping fire alarm before he raced to the windows in hopes they would help get rid of the smoke. Or at least get the alarm to stop.
The one meal outside of his diet plan and he almost burned the apartment complex down trying to cook it. 
Go figure.
He had collapsed on the couch an hour later, two pizza boxes lying on the table in front of him as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone. He didn’t lift his head when he heard the front door lock turning but did freeze when he heard you cough a little. 
“Fuck, why does it smell like a shitty barbeque in here?” 
Ethan turned to you, a sheepish expression on his face as he lifted one of the pizza boxes as a peace offering. “Does pizza count as a ‘sorry for almost burning the place down’ gift?” 
You eyed the pizza box and then his face before you took the seat next to him. “Normally I would say no but you look like you had a pretty rough time, so I’ll accept it this time.”
“Geez, thanks,” Ethan snorted. 
“What were you even trying to cook anyways?” You questioned, taking a silence of margarita pizza and taking a large bite. You resisted the urge to let out a moan. “Fuck, I’m glad whatever it was. I couldn’t be bothered cooking today.” 
“Rough shift?” Ethan asked.
“Bitchy manager was on tonight,” you added with a grumble. 
“Fucking Jerry,” Ethan tsked, shaking his head. 
You turned to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“I’m delaying. There’s a difference,” Ethan corrected.
You hummed. “Okay, so why are you delaying?”
Ethan shrugged, turning his attention to the pizza box open on the coffee table in front of him. “S’stupid, no big deal. Promise.” 
You were silent for a few moments before you spoke. “Is this the point where I take the bait and beg for you to tell me why you’re upset?” 
He snorted, but it at least wrangled a smile out of him. “I’m not stressed. Just…overwhelmed.”
“With hockey?” You asked, but there was no malice or teasing in your voice. Just curiosity. 
“I know this is what I wanted but it’s just…so much. I’ve never had hockey be everything in my life, there was always something else. And now I feel like I’m drowning and no matter how much I keep kicking, I’m no closer to the surface. And the older guys seem so put together and I was trying to take their advice but it isn’t really working out and—” Ethan paused, his cheeks flushing a light pink colour when he realised he had begun rambling. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” you replied and he was almost shocked to see the sincerity on your face. “It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed. It’s a big jump. It would be weirder if you weren’t more stressed.” 
He swallowed. “Really?” 
“Yeah, I mean,” you began, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table as you turned your body on the couch until you were facing him. “Your life will never be normal again. You’ve been shoved into the spotlight and you will continue to be there forever. That’s overwhelming as fuck. And you’re trying to catch up with a bunch of guys who have been here for years, who have had seasons to figure out who they are and who they want to be. It was always going to be an uphill battle.” 
Something in his chest warmed at your understanding. 
“Guess I have a lot to look forward to then, huh?” He tried joking because it felt easier than trying to say the words that were getting stuck in the back of his throat.
“I get it,” you explained with a small nod. “Not at the same level, but I get it. Every day I wake up and I know I’m working towards the thing I want to do for the rest of my life but, fuck, some days are just harder than others. I feel like I’m sacrificing so much of my ‘best years’ doing this and sometimes I just…wonder if it’s worth it.”
“That’s intense,” Ethan murmured with his lips turned downwards.
You gave him a sad smile. “Life can be overwhelming in a lot of ways. It’s just about finding things that help us…destress, I guess.”
“Which is hard to do when you’re a rookie in the NHL who doesn’t know who the fuck he is anymore or a student spending every free moment working her ass off in a shitty job with a shitty manager to pay for college,” Ethan added with a sorrowful smile of his own. 
“Bingo,” you snorted.
“So,” Ethan sighed as he settled back against the couch. “What’s our game plan?” 
You raised your brows. “Game plan?” 
“Yeah, what are we gonna do to destress? We can help each other,” Ethan stated like it was obvious. “Like a ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ situation.” 
You shot him a look. “I’m not scratching your back.” 
Ethan tilted his head, a grin on his lips. “So I’m assuming massages are off the table too?” 
His laugh echoed through the apartment as you threw a pillow at his face. 
If Ethan was being completely honest, he didn’t think finding a destressing hobby would be so…stressful.
He had tried asking a few other guys on the team for inspiration and advice. It hadn’t been as successful as he had hoped. Though, at least he knew a handful of weird facts about the boys he played with, so it wasn’t completely useless. Team bonding and all that jazz. 
But the hobby-searching was starting to reach a point where he thought about it more than hockey. 
He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with him. So many of the guys on the team had shared the hobbies they had outside of hockey to help relax. He even spoke to some of the UMich boys that had joined the NHL before him for some advice too. But nothing really clicked, nothing shut his brain off. 
Golfing was too time-consuming to enjoy during the regular season. The mediocre attempt at knitting resulted in a massive knotted ball of yarn being chucked into the bin. He tried reading but got bored after the first few chapters. And it felt a bit pathetic and mind-numbing (the bad kind) when he found himself watching the third episode in a row of some trashy reality TV show that had been playing. 
Nothing was giving him that relief and that step away from the busy, hectic schedule an NHL player brought. 
“You got a new potential hobby for us?” 
Ethan lifted his head to see you closing the front door behind you, bundled in about five layers of clothing you were slowly deshedding before you made your way over to him. He watched as your eyes went to the mess on the coffee table, your lips pressed together to hold back your laugh. 
“What are you doing?” You questioned, tilting your head like it would help you figure out the little project he had been working on since you left for your class a few hours ago.
“It’s meant to be a model plane,” Ethan sighed, a tad too dramatic before he turned to you with a pout on his face. “Johnny said it was easy. He used to do them when he was, like, ten years old. I think he is lying to me.” 
You snorted. “Or maybe he followed the instructions.” 
Ethan frowned. “There’s instructions?” 
You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughs as you settled on the couch beside him. There was a hint of deja vu to that day a few weeks ago—the day Ethan likes to believe the start of your buddying friendship began.
“You’ll find something,” you reassured him, nudging his shoulder with your own. 
“I think some of the guys are just messing with me with some of the hobbies they suggest,” Ethan confessed. “Curtis does not seem like a knitter at all.” 
You laughed. “Yeah no, he was definitely messing with you.” 
“Knew it,” Ethan grumbled before shrugging. “Seamus thinks I’m just being dramatic.” 
“I’m inclined to agree,” you retorted. 
He shot you a look but you didn’t seem too bothered by his glare. 
“He thinks I just need to get laid,” Ethan murmured, his eyes settling back on the lump on the coffee table that was supposed to resemble a plane. 
“So why don’t you?” 
Ethan blinked as he turned back to you. “Why don’t I, what?” 
“Why don’t you just go get laid?” You asked, turning your body slightly so you were properly facing him. “Are you a virgin?”
Ethan startled. “What? No. No, I’m not a virgin.” 
 “Then I can’t imagine it would be too difficult for you to find someone.” 
“Thanks?” Ethan frowned a little before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, s’just a little much right now. I don’t really wanna go and sleep with anyone. And I’m a little too busy to properly start something with someone, you know? It wouldn’t be fair on them if I was…flaky.” 
“What if we slept together?” 
Ethan let out a choked noise of surprise. 
You gave him an odd look. “What?”
“Us? Sleep together? Like sex?” Ethan blurted out, his voice a little more high pitched than usual. 
“Well, I don’t mean just having a sleepover,” you answered with a shrug.
His brows furrowed together. “Would it not be…weird?” 
“No, why would it be?” You retorted, sounding so sure of yourself. “I’m busy, you’re busy. I guess you’re attractive and if you find me attractive too, I don’t see what the issue is. It’s convenient for us both.” 
His eyes narrowed. “You guess I’m attractive?” 
“This is not the time for your ego,” you huffed, though he could see your lips twitching upwards.
“No no, this is the perfect time for my ego,” Ethan started, his back straightening as he sat up in his seat.
“Are you in or not?”
His eyes dropped down to your lips for a few moments before returning to your eyes. “Y-Yeah, I’m in.” 
DECEMBER
As it would turn out, it was far from weird. It was actually pretty fucking great. 
The awkward tension Ethan expected to rise from the first time you two slept together didn’t actually happen. The next day, everything was back to normal and, if it weren’t for the hickeys dotted over his torso, he would have assumed he dreamt the whole thing up. 
It was surprisingly refreshing. The buddying friendship between you and Ethan continued to grow as the days passed, just like he wanted, there was just also the added bonus that sometimes the two of you fucked to let off some steam.
And as much as it pained him to say, Seamus was right. He just needed to get laid. He just needed to go back to something he knew he would always be good at, that didn’t take up too much space in his brain and felt as natural as breathing to him. 
He just needed to feel someone else’s body pressed up against him, whispered moans of his name doing more to help shut up that voice in the back of his head far better than the crowds of fans screaming and chanting his name. 
He was really missing out for all these with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.
“Ethan.” 
“Hm?”
“We can’t.”
“I think we can,” he murmured against your neck, his smile pressed against your skin as he placed a line of chaste kisses just below your jaw. 
Your eyes fluttered close as his large hand splayed against your stomach, fingers brushing over your heated skin as he settled on the bed behind you. “You’re gonna miss your bus,” you managed to mutter out, a little breathless as you felt him rolling his hips against your ass.
“They won’t leave without me,” he assured you as he tugged you further back into him. Your panties had been kicked off somewhere under the sheets, not that either of you cared enough to give it a second thought. It just made it easier for Ethan to slip his hand between your legs, to listen to the choked noise of surprise you let out when his finger pressed on your clit. 
“That’s not how it works,” you murmured, letting out a whine when he stilled his hand between your legs, focusing on marking the spot at the base of your neck that made your arch against him. “You’re gonna miss the bus and the team will be annoyed and you’re gonna—”
“Shhhh,” Ethan mumbled against your skin. “Too much talking.” 
“Ethan.”
He let out a groan, his head dropping to your shoulder where he pressed a soft kiss there before lifting his head to shoot you a look. 
“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured with a snort. “It’s a seven day roadie. You’ll survive.” 
“Maybe I’m really stressed about it,” he shot back. “Maybe a quickie before I leave would help me destress.” 
You shook your head in amusement. “You’d be a lot less stressed if you weren’t thirty minutes late already.” 
Ethan’s head snapped over to the clock on your bedside table. “Shit.”
“Told you so!” You called out as he scrambled his way towards the bathroom for the quickest shower of his life. 
“Shut up!” 
.
“That’s new.”
“What’s new?” Ethan questioned, leaning down to lace up his skates with the efficiency of a man who had spent the better part of his life in ice skates. He didn’t notice the shit-eating grin on Luke’s face until he sat back up and found the boy staring at him. “What?”
“Well, either the rats from your old apartment have found your new place and decided to take revenge or there’s a different reason for the marks on your back,” Luke retorted with a knowing glint in his eyes. 
“Marks are an understatement,” Seamus snorted, sitting on the stall on the other side of Ethan. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being stuck between the two of them. “Your back is mauled, dude. Who did you sleep with, a werewolf?” 
“No,” Ethan scoffed, his cheeks burning red. “Don’t be jealous you can’t get the same reaction out of a girl.” 
“So there’s a girl?” Luke chimed in, like the little nosey shit he was. 
“Maybe,” Ethan answered vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just a casual thing. Nothing serious.” 
“Glad you finally took my advice,” Seamus grinned. 
Ethan rolled his eyes. 
“What’s her name?” Luke asked. 
To be fair, you and Ethan never discussed the logistics of your situation beyond the actual sex part. He enjoyed the little bubble the two of you shared in your apartment. It was like the two of you forgot there were other people, that the signs would be there for people to pick up on. And he wasn’t exactly sure if it was something you would want people to know, even Luke. 
He tried to bargain with himself that it wasn’t serious so there was no need for Luke or the other boys to know. You two were just scratching an itch for each other, that’s it. You were still friends at the end of the day, he didn’t want to ruin that because other people thought there was something more serious.
Ethan shrugged. “Uh, you don’t know her.”
Luke cocked an eyebrow. “So surely it doesn’t matter if we know her name or not.” 
“It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything,” Ethan retorted, squirming a little under Luke’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Coach wants us out in five minutes.” 
“Subtlety is not your forte, Edwards,” Luke snorted in response. 
The roadie ends up being a complete shit show.
Three games and they lost every single one of them. Three games and the loss just got worse with each game, with the final game being an embarrassing 5-1 loss. And all the boys were upset and annoyed about the results, but Ethan felt like he was going to lose his mind. 
His suit felt uncomfortable and itchy against his body, like some foreign layer he desperately wanted to shed. His skin felt taut and stretched across his bones, the urge to claw at his skin so overwhelming that he forced himself to focus on picking the skin around his nails instead because it was less likely to get him odd looks from the other boys. 
He had ignored Luke and Seamus’ attempts at pep-talks in the locker room, both boys seeming determined to try and reassure him the loss was not his fault—like it would stop the fumbled plays playing on a loop in his head. He watched Nico climb onto the bus, eyeing the empty seat next to him but he wasn’t in the mood to be babysat by his captain. He put his bag on the chair next to him and put his headphones on, pretending he couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes on him.
He wasn’t sure what time it was when they finally arrived back in New Jersey, but he didn’t care to know. He didn’t give anyone a chance to pull him back for a chat. He grabbed his bags and bolted to his car, wanting nothing more than to get out of his suit and just mope in his bed until practice in a few days. 
Ethan wasn’t expecting for you to still be awake.
He jumped when he spotted you on the couch, the TV still on but on mute as it played some random sitcom he couldn’t quite remember the name of. His eyes wandered over your figure, huddled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs and a Devils branded hoodie he didn’t quite know whether it was one of your own or one of his. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 
“You’re back earlier than I expected,” you spoke up, breaking the weird, tense silence that seemed to be suffocating the apartment since he walked in. 
“We left just after the game,” he replied, his voice a little raspy considering it was the first time he had spoken since the end of the game. “Boys wanted to get home.” 
You nodded. “M’glad you’re back. The place is pretty quiet without you.” 
It was lighthearted. It was an opening for him to plaster on a smile and pretend he was okay. It was a chance for him to escape the same awkward conversations he avoided from his teammates. 
But he was tired—the bone deep kind—and he didn’t have it in himself to keep pretending. Not in front of you. 
“I’m not sure I’m feeling very talkative right now,” he admitted, swallowing back the acidic taste in his mouth, the one that had been lingering since he stepped on the bus with all his disappointed teammates. 
“We don’t have to talk about it,” you reassured him as you patted the spot on the couch beside you. “We can just sit in absolute silence if you want.” 
“I’m not sure I want that either,” he confessed as his body slumped against the couch, melting into the fabric as he tried to ignore the constant buzzing voices in his head. “Just wanna forget the last week, to be honest.”
“That’s fair,” you hummed in agreement. “The refs were biassed dicks anyways. It wasn’t fair.” 
He turned his head to look at you, his surprise clearly expressed on his face. “You watched?” 
“I did,” you gave him a soft smile. “It wasn’t a pretty sight. I’m surprised the neighbours didn’t make a noise complaint against me when they put Luke in the box.” 
And despite himself, he couldn’t help but snort. “They had it out for him and Jack.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Dicks.” 
His lips twitched upwards. “Dicks indeed.” 
Ethan let his head fall back against the back of the couch, let the exhaustion settle in as his eyes fluttered shut and, for the first time in the last week, let himself have some semblance of relaxation even if his brain was still on overdrive.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” you started and his body instantly tensed up at your words. And maybe you would feel his body lock up, considering his thigh was pressed against yours and the couch wasn’t all that big either. “But I am here if you want to talk. Have someone who’s not on the team to listen to you.” 
He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “Just feel like I let them down.” 
“You didn’t,” your voice soft but sincere. “And I bet the boys would agree.” 
“I just…” he let out a sigh, keeping his eyes closed because it somehow made the next few sentences easier to say out loud. “I know no one likes losing. I would be a pretty bad professional athlete if I liked losing. But, I don’t know, it just…sucks more now.” 
“Because the stakes are higher?”
“Because there’s more people seeing my mistakes,” he murmured, his words short and sharp. “This is all unreal. Being able to live out my dream and play in the NHL. But every time I make a mistake, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m waiting for someone to tell me it’s all a joke or I have been moved down or I get dropped and that’s the end of my career.” 
There was a short pause. 
“I’m scared it’s all gonna be for nothing.” 
He wasn’t sure what response he expected. Truthfully, he had no intentions of ever telling you any of this. Or anyone for that matter. He had no intentions of ever saying the words out loud, letting them fester and swirl around in the back of his mind when he was left with his thoughts alone for too long. 
And yet, he had just blurted them out to you. 
Maybe he was more tired than he realised. 
“Why did you keep playing hockey?” 
Ethan frowned a little, his eyes blinking back open as he turned to look at you again. “What?” 
“Why did you keep playing hockey?” You asked again, something swirling in your eyes but he couldn’t quite work out what. “It’s one thing to be a fan. You’re Canadian so I guess you kinda have to be. And I assume your parents put you into lessons. But why did you keep up with it? Why did you keep playing?” 
“Because I love the sport,” he answered without any hesitation.
“Exactly, you love the sport,” you repeated with a soft smile on your lips. “It’s why you stayed. It’s why you play the next game even if you lost the last one. It’s why it’s your dream, why you kept working towards the NHL. And even after the shit show of the roadie, it’s why you will go out and play the next game.” 
Ethan stayed silent but he didn’t move his eyes away from yours. 
“It’s normal to have doubts. It’s normal to second guess yourself and assume the worst and let yourself spiral,” you continued. “It’s your rookie year. It isn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t easy for Luke, for Seamus, for any of the boys. But you love the sport and the sport loved you back. Even on the bad days.” 
“That was poetic,” he murmured, his voice a little raspy and thick with emotion. 
“I was great at English in school,” you retorted with a grin. “You’re allowed to feel scared. And you’re allowed to be upset after you lose. But you’re a part of the team, nobody is putting the loss on your shoulders and you shouldn’t either. It’s your weight to bear together.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Did Nico message you?” 
You snorted, and something about the sound made his chest tighten. In a good way, though. 
“No, but considering how fast you got here, I would be wary that he will probably show up tomorrow morning to take you for a coffee check up,” you murmured. “Or he will corner you in the locker room.” 
Ethan nodded. “Thank you. For listening and stuff.” 
You flashed him a smile as you nudged his shoulder with your own. “That’s what friends are for.”
It was almost ironic that Ethan had spent the last few months working towards the title of your friend, only to feel almost disappointed when you said it. 
Nico had been the one to organise the New Years Party.
All the boys from the team were there. There were other Devils employees from the marketing, media and training teams. There were friends and friends-of-friends. There were people he had never met before. 
But it was a party and the buzz of the new year was humming through them all, and somewhere amongst it all, someone had suggested a game of truth or dare.
Ethan thinks it was Curtis, who was just drunk and nosy and a bit bored.
“Right, Baby Hughes, you gotta pick!”
Luke let out a groan, slumping into the person next to him—a chuckling John Marino who seemed amused by the glint in Curtis’ eyes—before nodding. “I feel targeted.”
Curtis grinned. “Never.”
“You’ve asked me every single time,” Luke grumbled under his breath, cheeks tinted pink and warm. “Surely this is against the rules. Right, Cap?”
Nico raised his hands in surrender. “Do not drag me into this!” 
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So much for looking out for your boys.”
“Pick someone else before he starts getting whiny,” Jack called out, grinning widely as he dodged Luke’s elbow to his side. “I don’t wanna hear him bitching on the way back home.” 
“Fine, fine,” Curtis snorted, eyes scanning over the busy room before his eyes paused on Ethan. “Alright, Edwards, rookie’s turn. Truth or dare.” 
Ethan straightened a little, something determined in his eyes. “Truth,” he answered with a grin. “I’ve been warned of your dares.” 
“Smart,” Jesper coughed under his breath. 
“Truth, he says,” Curtis mused as he sat back in his seat, contemplative and cunning before he spoke again. 
“Play nice,” Nico teased.
“Cap’s orders,” Curtis hummed before he spoke. “Alright then, rookie, fess up. Which teammate is your least favourite? Name and shame.” 
Ethan blinked. “This feels like a trap.” 
“Oh, it certainly is,” Ondrej snorted.
“Don’t take him seriously,” Luke spoke up, leaning his head back to catch Ethan’s gaze. “He did the same to me and Simon. And Seamus last year. It’s his thing.” 
Ethan raised his brows. “Is there a right answer?” 
“Hey, no cheating!” Curtis called out. 
“Maybe my answer is you,” Ethan called back teasingly. 
“Oh, pretty boy has some fire,” the older man laughed, happily and drunkenly but it seemed enough to satisfy him before Nico was rounding everyone around for the midnight countdown.
The funny thing was that Ethan always knew that hockey was a team sport and every team he had ever played on—from the peewee team he played on as a kid to the boys he played with in UMich—every single one of them felt like a family, a place where he belonged and a team he loved both on and off ice. 
The Devils had been another one of those teams—his newest family. It had been terrifying, a lingering thought in the back of his head since he had been drafted. Every team he played for before were teams he would move on from, stepping stones in his dreams. But the NHL was at the top and he didn’t want to fuck that up. He didn’t want to feel left out from his new family. 
The Devils family had welcomed him with open arms. 
He truly couldn’t complain. He felt a connection with these boys on and off the ice, he felt like the newest member in this patchwork family that was really cared for. Even now, as the seconds ticked down to midnight, there was warmth and camaraderie in the air as they welcomed the new year. 
And yet, it was the most devastating loneliness he had ever felt in his life.
Because the clock struck twelve and the cheers echoed through the house and yet, his eyes were searching in the crowd of people. Searching for the one person he wanted by his side. Searching for the first person he has ever had the urge to kiss into the new year. 
Because Ethan Edwards spent breaking in the new year wishing he was beside you. 
JANUARY
New Years opened his eyes in ways that he hadn’t really considered before.
Unfortunately, eye opening nights are a bit difficult to focus on when you’re a professional athlete in the NHL hitting January in your rookie year. Because they were only half way through the regular season in one of the most physically and mentally intense years of his life, and he was a bit too fucking tired to have emotional epiphanies.
Which was fine if it weren’t for the fact he was currently in the middle of drills and his brain was definitely not focused on hockey. 
“Edwards!” 
Ethan blinked, his body moving before his brain could properly catch up. He had never been more grateful for the military-routine of drills he had been doing for as long as he had been skating. 
His muscles were screaming by the time the boys were starting to head back into the locker room, laughing and shoving each other and discussing strategies for the game against the Sabres the following day. But he lingered behind, stick twisting in his hand as he tapped a few pucks closer to the net. 
He had tried not to stare at the person lingering on the ice behind him, watching him, observing him.
He managed five shots before the person spoke up. 
“You should lower your right hand a little,” Jack called out, lingering at the blue line. “It will help with the shot.” 
His next shot hit the back corner perfectly. 
Ethan straightened his back, nodding a little before glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks.” 
“Anytime,” Jack responded, taking it as his cue to skate closer towards him. “You good? You should be getting some rest before the game tomorrow.” 
“Yeah, just…wanted some extra practice on my shots,” Ethan said, shrugging his shoulders. “It needs some work.” 
Jack nodded. “You’re having a good year.”
“Could be better,” Ethan retorted before he could stop himself. It was meant to be lighthearted, playful even. Instead, it came out a little self-deprecating and he winced at himself.
“It gets better,” Jack assured him, his expression a little softer. “The rookie year is always the worst, the media attention and expectations and everything. But it gets better when you find yourself, find your footing.” 
“I know,” he murmured because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Nobody really talked about Jack’s rookie year. Not in much detail, not beyond a few comments here and there he had heard over the years in the lakehouse. 
He was more than grateful that his own rookie year wasn’t anything like Jack’s. 
“Enjoy it,” Jack continued, a kind expression on his face. It wasn’t hard to work out why Jack was given the ‘A’ on his jersey. “I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let the critics get to you too much. They just wanna put pressure on you, make you squirm.” 
And oh. 
Because now Ethan was standing there, staring back at Jack like a hopeless idiot, realising he and the rest of the boys probably assumed his mood had been related to hockey. To the articles written about him. To the most likely and very reasonable explanation. 
Not the fact Ethan was pretty sure he liked his friends-with-benefits roommate in a not very friends-with-benefits way. 
His cheeks burned at the realisation. 
“Uh, yeah,” he nodded helplessly, hoping his smile didn’t look as strained as it felt. “No, you’re right. I…I’ll try to really enjoy it. Not get in my own head too much.” 
“Good,” Jack smiled back at him, all sweet and genuine and making him feel like a bit of a dick. “I’m here if you ever need a chat, you know? And I’m better at giving advice than Luke.” 
Ethan snorted. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
The issue was that despite his eye-opening realisation, Ethan Edwards quickly realised he was a bit of a coward when it came to expressing his feelings. 
Or, for that matter, confronting them.
It was odd for Ethan, if he was being completely honest with himself. Because he was usually good with these kinds of things. He knew when it was a ‘no strings attached’ situation, when to remove himself from any feelings that would compliment the matter. And he knew when it was serious, when the feelings were reciprocated, when there was something more than physical between him and the other person. 
But that awareness was thrown out the window when it came to you. 
It was like he had a little voice in his head, desperately trying to yell out how he felt about you until Ethan reached his breaking point and did something he couldn’t take back. 
So, he did what any reasonable person did and locked that little voice away, pushed it to the back of his mind where it couldn’t bother him. And then he continued living his life like he couldn’t hear the rattling box in the background of every waking moment. 
It was easy with hockey. Despite his little blip at the start of the month, he managed to prevent the annoying voice affecting his game on the ice. He stayed focused and concentrated and attentive. He managed to complete his drills and find the passes and shoot some goals so none of his teammates would catch on to his lacking grasp on his feelings. 
But at home? With you? He clearly wasn’t coping as well as he thought he was. 
“Are you okay?” 
Ethan paused, body frozen as his brain wracked through a million different thoughts before he turned to look where you were sitting on the couch. 
“Uh yeah,” he managed to blurt out, a slightly strained laugh following. “Why?” 
“You’ve just seemed off the last few weeks,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. “Like, tense and stuff.” 
“S’just hockey stuff,” Ethan murmured with a stiff smile, the lie tasting bitter and acidic on his tongue. “The boys have just been talking about how playoffs are sneaking up on us and I just…guess I’ve been a little in my own head about it.” 
You nodded in understanding. “You need days to chill out, you know? Take your mind off hockey.” 
Ethan raised his brows. “You got any suggestions, sweetheart?” 
“Actually,” you retorted with a knowing smile. “I do. I know exactly what you need to get out of your head.” 
“You know, when you crawled onto my lap, I was expecting a very different outcome,” Ethan murmured, struggling not to move his lips too much as he focused on the concentrating expression on your face. 
“Need to get your head out of the gutter, Edwards,” you teased, biting back your smile as you continued to sweep the brush across his face, careful to avoid his eyebrows while you were at it. “Facemasks are soothing and relaxing. Plus, your skin probably needs it after all the travelling you do.” 
“Excuse you,” his nose scrunched. “I have a skincare routine.” 
You chuckled. “Yeah, Luke told me that you ripped into Seamus after he used your fancy moisturiser.” 
“It’s expensive,” he murmured in defence before the rest of your words caught up on him. “You talk about me to Luke?” 
“Mostly to bitch,” you said with a lighthearted, teasing smile.
Yet, something in his chest tightened at the idea regardless.
“As long as you’re talking about me,” he shot back, something victorious washing over him at the way you laughed. 
You leaned back a little, still sat on his lap with his hands on your waist to keep you balanced. You snorted at the mask covering his face before grinning. “Now, we have to keep these on for twenty minutes. And try not to move your face too much.” 
Ethan ignored your words, pouting in response. “So if I asked you to make out—”
“I would tell you to fat chance,” you finished with a grin. “But I’ll admit the pink headband is really working for you.” 
Ethan wiggled his eyebrows, once against ignoring the pointed look you shot him. “Enough for a kiss?” 
“Enough for an episode of Pretty Little Liars,” you shot back at him, your smile widening at the sound of his groan but it still didn’t stop him from tugging you close before you could sit on the other side of the couch. “Or at least finish the one we started last night before—”
“I rocked your world?” 
“Started drooling on my shoulder,” you corrected.
“That was after I made you come twice,” Ethan piped up, lightly pinching your side until you squirmed further onto his lap. “They cancel each other out.” 
“Whatever you say, princess,” you snorted, eyes gleaming as you pressed play on the remote before he could come up with a witty comeback. 
And, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a distant voice screaming at him to say something. Telling him this was the perfect opportunity to say something to you. To just admit how he was feeling and end the pathetic pining he had been experiencing for the last few weeks. 
But the mere idea of losing this—losing you—kept his mouth shut as he finally turned his attention to the tv and pretended like his stomach didn’t twist at his own cowardice. 
FEBRUARY
Before he knew it, they were hitting February and all the buzz in the hockey world was around All Stars.
Ethan hadn’t been too concerned about it or the discussions leading up to the reveal on which team members would be heading out for the event. His mind had been preoccupied on the season, on playoffs approaching, on you. In all honesty, All Stars hadn’t even crossed his mind until the team was being rounded up into the locker room for the announcement. 
It was not too much of a surprise that Luke had been selected for the Devils (most people expected it to be one of the Hughes brothers). 
However, it was a shock to hear his own name follow. 
“Looks like the fans want to see more of the pretty boy,” Curtis called out, joking and teasing and, yet, it still made his cheeks burn as the boys all slapped him on the back. 
“Baby’s first All Stars,” Timo cooed jokingly, reaching out to pinch his cheek but Ethan was quick to slap his hand away. 
“It’s Luke’s first too,” he defended weakly, a smile on his lips as he spoke.
“At least he is losing one of his virginities,” Seamus coughed under his breath, letting out a high-pitched yelp when the younger Hughes reached to smack him across the back of his head. 
“I hope you get a horrible sunburn in Mexico,” Luke retorted with a deadpan expression. 
Seamus snorted. “Don’t get bitchy because your ticket is non-refundable.” 
Luke reached out to slap him again but he had already run off towards the showers, laughing and shoving some of the other boys into Luke’s path to help with his escape. 
Ethan shook his head in amusement. 
“Enjoy it,” another voice spoke up and he turned to find Nico standing beside his stall, a kind and genuine smile on his face as he patted his shoulder. “It’s fun. Promise.” 
“More fun than chilling on a beach somewhere?” Ethan retorted with a knowing smile.
“It’s up there,” Nico grinned. 
“But if Michael Buble offers you anything, say no,” Jack spoke up from the other side of the locker room. “Trust me.” 
.
“How does it feel to be with all the big boys?” 
“You saying I’m not a big boy?” 
“You know exactly what I meant, perv.” 
It was true. Ethan knew exactly what you meant. But he could almost imagine the way you rolled your eyes when you spoke, your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows furrowed and it sent a pang of something aching through him. 
It was almost too pathetic to comprehend. 
All Stars was insane. Truly, absolutely, positively insane. It was one thing to watch it from the comfort of his own couch. It was a whole other thing to be a part of it. And he knew he shouldn’t be starstruck, not really. He had spent the better part of the last few months playing against some of these guys. 
But being in a not-as-competitive setting with the likes of Sidney Crosby and Nathan MacKinnon was a surreal experience he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around since he arrived.
And yet, here he was, all smiley and giddy and excited over the fact you had called him. The fact that you missed him enough, that you were thinking about him enough to call him whilst he was away. 
“I stand by my question,” Ethan replied, shuffling further back into the plush pillows of his hotel bed as he held his phone to his ear. “Do you not think I’m a big boy?”
“I’m not going to talk up your dick size for the sake of your ego, Edwards.” 
Ethan snorted despite himself. “Worth a shot. Could have made it really hot.” 
“I refuse to have phone sex with you when Luke is probably in the room.” 
“He’s not here,” Ethan said quickly, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Well, he’s gone out to grab us some snacks from the store around the corner but—”
“Exactly.” His stomach dipped a little as your laugh echoed through the phone. “Now, tell me everything.” 
For a moment he wondered if it would be worth trying to facetime you to see your face or if that was pushing it too far. 
“What do you want to know?” He retorted, his eyes closing shut as he tried to imagine the expression on your face as you thought. 
“I don’t know! The important stuff! Like if Sidney Crosby is as hot in real life?” 
Ethan blinked. “That’s your big question? If he’s as hot as he is on screen?” 
Your reply came with no hesitation. “Yes.”
“Wow, so we can’t talk about my dick, which has been inside of you by the way, but we can talk about whether or not Sidney Crosby is hot.” There was a pause before he sighed. “Yeah, he is. Maybe even hotter.” 
“I fucking knew it.”
“So you don’t even miss me? Not even a little bit?” Ethan questioned, trying to sound playful and lighthearted, hoping the small slivers of insecurity weren’t being translated through the phone.
“Don’t start pouting on me, Edwards. Of course I miss you.” Your voice was softer, more sincere. Or at least he was deluding himself into thinking as much. “Found a show for us to watch when you’re back. It looked good but I didn’t want to start it alone.” 
It was embarrassing how big his smile was. “Yeah?” 
“Yeah,” you hummed before gasping. “Oh god, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t believe what happened at work the other night.” 
Ethan huffed. “Don’t tell me it was—” 
“Yup! And you’ll never guess what she did—” 
It hit Ethan in the chest when he was lying on the foreign bed in a non-descriptive hotel room, phone pressed against his ear as you rambled away. It hit him just how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed you. That it was beyond the physical attraction, that it was much deeper than a silly little crush. 
It hit him how much he wanted this forever.  
But he knew better to do it on the phone. He knew it had to be said face-to-face. He knew he needed you in front of him when he uttered the words. He knew he needed to be looking in your eyes when he blurted his feelings out. 
So, he promised himself. 
He promised himself he would do it when he headed back to New Jersey. He promised himself he would do it when he saw you. He promised himself he was just going to deal with it head on and not run away like he had been doing for the last month or two. 
He promised he was not going to be a coward anymore. 
.
It was embarrassing how quickly he threw his own promise out of the window. 
Ethan was fucking exhausted by the time their plane laned back in New Jersey. It was barely even eight in the evening and he was ready to slump face first onto his bed and not get up for a few days—even if he knew they had practice the following afternoon. 
But it was the principle of it all. 
It was the mere exhaustion of it all. 
And you took one look at him before you opened your arms, inviting him to join you on the couch. Ethan couldn’t even bring himself to feel too bad about the groan you let out as he slumped himself on top of you.
“Make sure they had good music at my funeral,” he grumbled, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.
You hummed, your hands moving on instinct to run your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel about Barbie Girl?”
“Love it,” he murmured, a soft groan leaving his lips as your nails scratched along his scalp. “Missed you.” 
“I missed you too, Edwards,” you whispered, soft and almost breathless. He wondered for a moment if he was leaning too heavily on your chest and winding you. “I never knew you talked in your sleep.” 
Ethan froze. 
“Luke sent me some interesting videos,” you continued and he could almost hear the smile in your voice. “You should really watch who you have sleepovers with.” 
Ethan clenched his eyes shut, trying to nuzzle himself further into your neck. “M’gonna kill him.” 
“It was just one video,” you assured him, lightly tugging his hair until he lifted his head to look at you. “Cute that you were so jealous over me liking Sidney that you started to sleep talking about it.” 
His cheeks heated up. “I wasn’t jealous.” 
You beamed back at him. “Uh huh, sure.” 
Ethan narrowed his eyes at you. “This is emotional blackmail.”
“Aw, don’t let me stop you from doing it again,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement as his cheeks burned redder. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was jealous you got to hang around him all week?” 
Ethan paused before he spoke. “Yes.” 
You nodded. “Then, I was deeply jealous and envious that you got to hang around Sidney Crosby, the hottest guy in the league—”
“Oh my god,” Ethan groaned as he braced his hands on either side of you, prepared to push himself off you and the couch and sulk in his room. But before he could get far, you were winding your arms and legs around him and pulling him back down. “Nuh uh, let me go. You can go cuddle with Sidney since you think he’s so hot.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” you mused, choosing to be nice and not comment on the way he completely nuzzled himself back into your arms, eyes falling shut and relaxation taking over his body for the first time in a week. 
“You’re a bully,” he retorted, words muffled from the way his cheek was pressed against your shoulder. 
“You like it,” you retorted, keeping the banter going but it made Ethan’s head spin. 
Because he did. He did like it. He liked you. He liked coming back home to you and he liked lying on the couch with you. He liked kissing you and he liked the noises you made for him when he touched you. 
He liked you more than he cared to admit. 
He liked you too much to lose you. 
He liked what the two of you had. He liked it too much to risk losing it all over unreciprocated feelings. Feelings could change—his feelings could change. There was no need to ruin a good thing. 
He had hockey to focus on. He had the team to focus on. He had playoffs to focus on.
Now was not the time to change everything, superstitions or not. 
MARCH
March Madness was no joke. 
It was pure fucking chaos and no previous league or championship he had ever played for could rival just how hectic the whole thing was. The Devils were having a good season. A great fucking season if they were being honest. And they were so, so, so fucking close to clinching that playoff spot. 
But fuck if the other teams weren’t making it real fucking difficult for them. 
Ethan knew that things were going to get rougher, tougher, harder when the playoff desperation started to settle in, when the end of the regular season was on the horizon and teams were starting to get dirty to extend their season. 
He just underestimated how desperate they were willing to get. 
It was easy to see why Nico Hishcier was so beloved by the team, by the fans, by the boys. To see why he was chosen as captain because he was nothing but supportive and determined and encouraging. He wasn’t letting them get too comfortable, he was keeping the boys working towards playing their best. 
But he was also the damn proudest of them all. 
It almost made the hits against the boards worth it. 
Almost being the operative word seeing as he felt like his whole body was bruised as they came off a game against the Rangers. 
“Fuck,” Ethan hissed as he all but waddled into the locker room, helmet in hand and skateguards on. “I think I’m bruised in places I didn’t know you could be bruised.” 
Seamus snorted. “Fucking tell me about it.” 
“The hit during the second period looked rough,” Luke spoke up from the stall beside him. “You sure you’re good?” 
“Medical checked me over during the intermission,” Ethan assured him with a faint smile. “Just gonna be sore for the next few days.” 
Luke’s eyes gleamed. “No strenuous activities then?” 
Ethan rolled his eyes. 
“Oh please,” Seamus mused, giving Luke a nudge with his elbow. “He’s a pillow princess.” 
“Fuck off both of you,” Ethan snorted, already starting to peel his jersey off.
 It wasn’t until he was almost dressed where he finally grabbed his phone out of his bag, turning it back on to see a flurry of notifications to take over his screen. His brows furrowed together in surprise as he skimmed over them.
“Is that a certain roommate?” Luke asked, peeking over his shoulder like the nosy shit he was but Ethan had already chucked his phone back in his bag. 
“Nah, it’s just Patricia,” Ethan shrugged.
Luke blinked. “Who the fuck is Patricia?” 
Ethan shot him an odd look. “Patricia, the woman from the estate agency you recommended to me.” 
Luke gave him a pensive look. “Why is she blowing up your phone?” 
Ethan shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 
As it would turn out, Patricia was contacting him because the apartment he originally signed on for at the start of the year seemed to have sorted the rat infestation problem. 
She was cheery in her voicemail she left for him, like it was the best possible news Ethan could have ever received. And maybe it would have been a few months ago, back in September. Even a good few weeks into October, Ethan would have been over the fucking moon to hear his old apartment was available again. 
Yet, as he listened to the voicemail now, he couldn’t help but let a sense of dread wash over him. 
It was stupid in a way because he knew from the start his situation wasn’t permanent. He knew it was always a short-term solution to a short-term problem. He knew the arrangement between you both wouldn’t last forever—both as roommates and friends with benefits. 
There was always a timer on it, but Ethan let himself get lost in the familiarity of it all that the upcoming ending hit him like an unexpected slap in the face.
If he was a sensible and good guy, he would have called Patricia back. He would have told her he was just as happy to hear the update on the previously rat infested apartment. He would have told her he was happy to move in as soon as he can, to have his own place in New Jersey to call his home and his home alone. He would have told her to send over all the paperwork as soon as she can. 
But Ethan wasn’t sensible nor was he all that good because he never called her back. 
Instead, he chose to pretend as though he hadn’t seen the calls or the voicemails or the messages. He told himself he was focusing on clinching a playoff spot. He told himself he was just prioritising the important stuff and, for as long as he had a roof over his head, the other apartment wasn’t a priority. 
Ethan chose not to acknowledge the fact that ignoring and running away from any possible problem was becoming a bit of an odd habit for him over the last few months. 
As it would turn out, people failed to warn Ethan that March Madness seemed to extend into a player’s personal life. 
He couldn’t quite work out the exact moment everything changed but he noticed the switch two weeks into March. And he was fucking baffled. And almost embarrassed that it took him so long to catch on to your sudden cold behaviour.
If you were giving him the cold shoulder, Ethan would have assumed he had done something to piss you off. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, the two of you had your fair share of petty roommate disagreements over the months where one of you would give the other silent treatment. But it never lasted more than an hour or so before you sat down and talked it out. 
Ethan would have preferred if he was just given the silent treatment from you.
Instead, he got…whatever the hell you were doing now. 
For a few days, Ethan considered that he was just being dramatic. That maybe it was something at work or in one of your classes. That eventually you’d come to him with whatever was bothering you and he would listen and this weird tension between the two of you would disappear. 
He lost hope in that theory after a week.
You were talking to him, almost as normal, but there was a tinge to it. A shift. Almost like a step back. It felt like the early months as roommates, when your answers were shorter more often than not, when you treated each other as acquaintances with a mutual friend. 
It felt fucking wrong. 
And then there was the physical aspect. 
It wasn’t like the two of you were on each other at every possible moment together. It wasn’t even about the sex. It was the way you pulled away from him like his touch burned you, like it was odd for him to casually nudge your hip with his own as he walked past you in the kitchen. It was the way you seemed to avoid sitting too close to him on the couch. 
It was the way it felt like the two of you were reverting back to the awkward, polite strangers you were back in September. 
He hated it but he didn’t know how to get it back when you seemed so adamant to keep him at arm’s length. 
It was disorienting as fuck. 
It was wrong. 
It was everything he feared for. 
It was almost-definitely-possibly worse than you rejecting him. 
And Ethan felt like he was fucking spiralling with the realisation that he may have lost you and he wasn’t exactly sure how. 
.
And just when Ethan craved normalcy in his life, Luke started acting weird too. 
The youngest Hughes brother shut down any attempts to hang out outside of practice or training. He didn’t seem as talkative or chatty with Ethan the way he usually was, leaving most of their conversations to surround hockey or strategies or upcoming games.
Fuck, even Seamus was weirded out by Luke’s sudden change in behaviour. 
It didn’t take long for the other boys in the team to notice the growing tension between the two boys. Jack kept shooting his brother weird looks. Nico seemed concerned. Even Curtis looked a bit awkward and unsure at what to say. Him, Luke and Seamus had been such a trio since Ethan joined the Devils at the start of the season. 
Now it seemed like Luke tolerated him at best. 
But Ethan knew Luke. He knew the way the boy would get when he was upset. He knew the way the boy tended to shut down a bit, knew that he needed the space to be moody and brood a little (the outcome of being the youngest child) before he was ready to forgive and forget and move on. 
However, Luke Hughes seemed more than happy to carry out whatever grudge he was holding—even if it was affecting their game on the ice. 
“What the fuck was that?” 
Luke didn’t even bother turning to look at him, reaching to pull his practice jersey over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For fuck’s sake, Luke,” Ethan growled, angry and frustrated and done with whatever bitchy mood he was still in. “I was open. You saw that I was open and you fucking ignored me. What if we were in a game? What if that cost us a goal?” 
“It’s just a practice,” Luke shot back, deadpan and unamused. “Calm down.” 
“Calm down? Calm down?!” Ethan laughed, bitter and irritated. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Luke. I don’t know what your problem with me is but it’s fucking ridiculous if you’re willing to sacrifice the team for it.” 
Seamus took a step towards them. “Okay, maybe we just need—”
“No,” Ethan snapped, a buzz of adrenaline rushing through him. “No, if he has a problem with me then I want him to fucking say it instead of keeping it some secret like—some coward!” 
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Luke snapped back at him. “You know all about secrets, Edwards.” 
His brows furrowed together. “Stop fucking talking in riddles, Hughes.” 
“Oh Jesus,” Seamus grumbled under his breath. 
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Luke hissed. 
“No, I don’t!” Ethan gritted out. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about!”
“And I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore!” Luke bit back, enough hurt and anger in his voice that it left Ethan—and the rest of the locker room—silent. “I thought you were one of my closest friends. I thought you were a good guy. Clearly you’ve changed.”
Ethan frowned. “What?”
“Okay, everyone out!” Nico clapped his hands together, snapping Luke and Ethan out of their little moment as the captain began shepherding the rest of the team out. 
“Aw, come on, it was just getting good!” Curtis whined but sighed as he followed the rest of the boys out of the locker room, all in various degrees of undress as they left Ethan and Luke alone. 
Ethan watched them all go before he turned back to Luke, a look of hurt and pure confusion on his face. 
“I helped you out,” Luke rasped, swallowing harshly. His voice was softer, a little raw too. Like the fight had left him and all that was left was disappointment. “You needed a place to stay and I convinced her to let you stay, vouched that you were a good guy, that you weren’t a fucking douche, and you had to go and fucking play her like that.” 
Ethan blinked. “What the fuck are you on about?” 
“Ethan,” Luke muttered, his name full of frustration. “I know about the two of you. I’ve known for a while, I’m not fucking stupid.” 
His heart sped up a little, despite himself. “What does our…agreement have to do with you?” 
Luke shot him a look of disbelief. “Because she’s my friend! Because you’ve strung her along for months and now you don’t even have the decency to tell her you’re leaving!” 
Ethan blinked again. “I—what?” 
“You’re moving back to your own place and you—why do you look so confused?” 
“Because I am confused!” Ethan squeaked out. 
Luke slowly blinked. “So…you’re not taking Patricia up on her offer and moving out?”
“No!” Ethan replied, still looking confused. “Why would you think I am?” 
“Because she keeps calling and emailing you!” Luke shot back.
“And I haven’t answered a single one!” Ethan retorted. 
“Huh,” Luke murmured, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts. “Well, her emails suggest otherwise.” 
Ethan tilted his head. “What do you mean?” 
“I—” Luke sighed, looking serious once again. “I need you to be honest with me.” 
Ethan shifted in his spot. “What?”
“Are you serious about her?” Luke questioned. 
Ethan frowned. “Who? Patricia?” 
“I—no,” Luke sighed deeply. “Unless you’ve been sleeping with Patricia this whole time—”
“What? No, no!” Ethan spluttered out. “I have—wait, does she think I’m moving out?” 
Luke looked a bit sheepish. “I think you need to go have that conversation with her.” 
“Fuck,” Ethan breathed out, something quite like nausea twisting in his stomach. “And she….I’m not….I would never play her like that. It’s literally the opposite!” 
Luke raised his brow. “The opposite?” 
“I—fuck, I need to go,” Ethan muttered to himself under his breath, not even acknowledging the other boy as he began to yank his gear off. 
“Woah, Ethan, you need to—”
“I need to fix this,” Ethan interrupted. “She can’t—I need to tell her.” 
The last thing Luke—or any of the boys—saw was Ethan rushing out of the locker room, looking frazzled and flustered and panicked. 
.
Ethan wished he could say he was calm and collected when he finally made it to your shared apartment but that would be a fucking lie. 
He was a mess when he arrived. Despite driving back, he was still breathless and panting as he forgoed the elevator, choosing to take the stairs two-at-a-time until he reached your floor. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed, his keys were the only thing in his possession as he raced towards the door. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Nor did he care. 
His only goal was to get to you.
It was embarrassing how badly his hands were shaking as he tried to shove the key into the lock, taking more attempts than he cared to admit before he managed to open the door. He didn’t even care about your neighbours as he began calling out your name, praying to every god he could think of that you were home.
He could have collapsed from relief when you wandered out of your room, a mixed look of concern and confusion on your face when you spotted him standing in the living room.
“Are you okay?” 
Ethan tried to find the words to answer you. He tried to wrack his brain for a response to your question, a coherent sentence to calm the clear uneasiness in your voice. And yet, all he could do was stare at you and think one single thought that was leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.
“I’m in love with you!” 
You blinked in response. 
“Like, so painfully in love with you that I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone. But it is. And I do. And I can’t keep it to myself anymore because I think I am genuinely going insane,” Ethan continued. 
Your lips parted a little in surprise, but still no words left your mouth.
“And I should probably stop talking and embarrassing myself further because you’re not saying anything and I’m usually a lot better at these kinds of things,” Ethan blurted out. “But you’ve been pulling away the last few weeks and I can’t take it anymore because it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I have to keep pretending I’m fine with everything when I’m not.” 
His body was moving before he could stop himself. He was taking steps forward, closing the small distance between you two because Ethan couldn’t stop the pull you had on him—on his body, his mind, his whole fucking world. 
“I’m in love with you. Like in a ‘I wanna come home to you every night and kiss you because we are dating’ kind of way, not a ‘we are roommates who made up this weird agreement’ way.” Ethan breathed out, his voice just above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. “And I don’t expect you to say you feel the same way but I can’t keep it anymore and—”
He was cut off by you throwing yourself at him, arms winding around his neck and lips on his. He didn’t even care about the rest of his sentence, sinking into the kiss like a starved man eating for the first time. The relief of feeling your body pressed against his was almost as addicting as the adrenaline pumping through his veins when you let out a blissful sigh. 
“M’not moving out,” he managed to mutter out between kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you tight against him. “Whatever you think—” 
You pulled away a few inches, just enough to see his face. “Your laptop was open,” you murmured, something sheepish and guilty written across your face. “And the email came through from your estate agent about signing a new lease and I got in my own head about it. I thought you were going to leave and I wanted to protect myself from falling further and—”
“Falling further?” He repeated, a hopeful smile beginning to take over his face.
“Yeah,” you whispered, your smile mirroring his. “Turns out sleeping with your roommate is a real catalyst for falling in love with him.” 
“Lucky me,” Ethan murmured before leaning back in to kiss you. “And I’m not leaving until you want me to leave.” 
“We’ve really gone through this relationship thing in a weird order, huh?” You mused, laughing a little when Ethan kept leaning in to kiss you.
“Yeah but I think it’s worked out pretty well for us,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours. 
Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year. 
He wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Nobody ever was, not really. He wasn’t fully prepared to fall in love either.
But with you in his arms and the Devils only points away from clinching a playoff spot, he thought his rookie year was going far better than anything he could have prepared for. 
.
613 notes · View notes
nadvs · 2 months
Note
Hey girl! I’m obsessed with basketball!rafe, your write him so well! On the night of readers first visit in basketball!rafes condo, you said they slept together. Can we have a blurb on that? I NEED to know how that went
thank you so much!! omg yessss. they’ve been long distance and it’s been hard but they miss each other so much so when she finally visits, it’s intense 🤭
based on this fic, mentioned in this blurb! 18+!
» au masterlist
at this point, they’ve been together for almost seven months. and a month and a half of that has been at a distance.
since rafe moved away, it feels like all they do is argue. most of their calls have been tense. they’ve gone days giving each other silent treatment too many times to count.
so when she’s stepping out of the airport gate that late afternoon, she’s more nervous than she is excited for her three-day stay, and she hates that she feels like that.
she finds rafe standing by a pillar, wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses. he’s gotten even bigger, his muscles bulging under his sleeveless shirt. now that he’s signed with the nba, he’s at practice every morning, hitting the gym twice a day, preparing for the season two months away. always busy. often too busy for her.
he doesn’t wait for her to reach him. he helps close the distance, meeting her in an open pocket in the crowd and wrapping her in his arms. he’s holding her so tightly that she can feel his heartbeat on her chest.
she didn’t know what to expect when he saw her, considering how rocky things have been. but this feels like the best possible way he could greet her. he seems happy. the chasm between them is still there, but it’s closing.
rafe nuzzles into her neck, smelling the mix of shampoo and perfume that makes her her, and is so overwhelmed that his throat feels thicker and tears start to form in his eyes. thank fuck he’s wearing shades.
“hey, baby,” he says, muffled.
“hi,” she says softly. “how are you?”
it’s a loaded question. he’s lonely. he didn’t realize how lonely until he held her. he’s stressed. he’s out of his depth. but he settles for, “not bad. you?”
“better now,” she says.
she knows her boyfriend’s life has changed. but it’s not until they’re walking out of the building and he gets stopped by a middle-aged man asking for a photo with him that she realizes just how much things have shifted. the man’s wife shakes her head, saying don’t bother them, but the man says please, it’ll be quick.
rafe obliges, once again grateful he’s wearing shades so nobody sees his teary eyes.
“you’ll take us to the final, won’t you?” the man says, clearly starstruck.
“i’ll try,” he replies. it’s clear to her that rafe’s a little uneasy, which surprises her. she thought he and his ego would love the attention.
“you’re like famous famous,” she teases once they walk far enough away.
“that’s only like, the second time that happened,” he says, not matching her playfulness.
she can tell that he’s trying to downplay it. but the season hasn’t even started and he’s already being recognized. it’s a big deal.
“is that why you’re all disguised?” she realizes.
“yeah,” he admits, seemingly embarrassed. he really didn’t want anyone to recognize him today.
they reach his car in an underground parking garage and she settles in the passenger seat as puts her suitcase in his backseat. he sits and starts the car.
“what have you done with my boyfriend?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood. “how are you not bragging about what just happened?”
“i don’t know,” he says. “you’re here. that’s what i’m focused on. and who knows… i could be one of those guys who gets one contract and then burns out. better not to get used to all that.”
her eyebrows knit together. he’s being short with her. and he’s never spoken like this. she’s seen him unsure about himself only a few times before. he was painfully nervous on draft night. but he never mentioned anything about his career burning out. this isn’t the man she knows.
“you’re a great player,” she tells him. “you won’t burn out.”
he nods unconvincingly and shifts the car into reverse, trying to avoid this heavy of a conversation right away. she knows him well enough to know what he’s doing. she puts her hand on his.
“hey,” she says softly. “wait a second.”
he sighs, his throat thickening again. he puts the car in park and turns it off.
“you good?” she asks.
he pinches the bridge of his nose. she realizes that his hand is trembling. he finally takes his sunglasses off and rubs his eyes, wiping at them.
“i’m tired,” he admits.
she stares at him through worried eyes.
“i’m sorry. we’ll take it easy tonight,” she tells him. “we can just order food and watch tv and go to bed early. it’s going to be okay.”
he nods, licking his lips nervously.
“it makes sense if you’re overwhelmed. it’s a lot of pressure. your life is so different now,” she says. “and i know i was part of the old one, but i want to be part of this new one, too, okay? i’m here for you.”
she’s not saying it solely to reassure him. she realizes she’s hoping he’ll reassure her back. things are still off between them. she can feel it. maybe it’s because she’s slowly drifting into the past to him. maybe he won’t carry her into his new life.
rafe is speechless. his chest hurts. he hates that she would insinuate that he doesn’t have a place for her. that she has any doubts at all. he’s the one who called her after their last big argument, following days of not talking to each other. he’s still bitter about it. he keeps putting up a fight, yet it’s like she thinks she’s the only one trying.
“the only way to fail is to give up, right?” she says.
rafe snorts.
“where’d you read that?” he says mockingly. cutting.
he regrets it immediately. she sits straighter, creating distance between them.
“i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m just... i want you here. i do. i’m already thinking about how you’re going to leave and it sucks. i’m just so… on edge.”
“so, your way to handle it is by being mean to me like, a minute after i get here?” she asks. his knee-jerk reaction to stress has always been to be rude and combative. it’s her least favorite thing about him.
“my head’s not right. i’m sorry.”
even though she’s hurt and bitter, she pushes past it and nods.
“let’s start over,” she says. “i can tell you all about my flight. real exciting stuff.”
he finally cracks a genuine smile.
when they make it to rafe’s penthouse, she’s shocked. she saw the view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows over their facetime calls, but the real thing doesn’t compare. it’s unreal, the way the setting sun is glistening over the skyline.
it’s crazy. she’s stayed right where she’s been since she met him, on the same campus doing the same things, but now he’s here. the stinging anxiety hits her again that maybe he’ll leave her in the past.
“this is really nice,” she says.
rafe gazes at her as she looks out the window. he’s felt out of place since he got here. the dynamic with his new team is nothing like it was back in college. this condo feels more like a hotel instead of his home.
but with her here, the most important piece of all he knows, the place doesn’t feel cold anymore.
he looks out at the view. it is nice. but it’s been hard to appreciate it since there’s been a weight living over him, blurring things.
“you can continue the tour now,” she says.
he offers her his hand. she takes it. his palm is rough and calloused from all his training.
as she paces through the condo, everything about the place is stunning. bare, but stunning.
“i can help you decorate if you want,” she offers as they travel down the hallway. “wanna go shopping tomorrow?”
“yeah,” he agrees. something as mundane as shopping for decor excites him simply because it’ll be with her.
they reach his bedroom. the california king bed is centered against the back wall. the room offers another beautiful view with a balcony.
“you ever sit out there in the morning? watch the sunrise?” she asks, stepping towards the open balcony door. she can hear the dull roar of cars zooming through the massive freeway laid out far below.
“nah, i go straight to practice,” rafe says. “and on days off, i just sleep in.”
“right,” she recalls. he gets up almost every morning before the sun rises. his schedule has been brutal. she feels guilty for fighting with him about how hard it’s been to schedule calls with him. she pictured him living a glamorous life, forgetting all about her. but he just seems isolated. exhausted.
she turns to face him again, gazing around the characterless room.
“would you want pictures in here? maybe some art on the walls?” she asks.
“i thought decorating started tomorrow?” rafe teases. she loves that he’s seeming to ease up a bit.
“can never be too prepared.” he smirks, looking down at her with a tired, but relaxed expression.
“i haven’t had time to do anything with the place,” he says. “and i wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“all good,” she says. “you stick to basketball, i’ll stick to making this place look like someone actually lives in it.”
“deal,” he says with a soft laugh.
she smiles. her eyes drift down, noticing faint white lines on his shoulders under his sleeveless shirt. she traces her fingers over the new stretch marks.
“they’re not working you too hard, are they?” she asks.
her tender touch makes rafe’s body go hot. she feels it immediately, how the tension between them has shifted.
“no,” he mumbles. “the trainer said i actually need to slow down on the lifting. i can’t get too heavy. i won’t be able to run as fast.”
“so, what i’m hearing is you need a few rest days,” she says with a cute shrug. “you need to relax. it’s for the good of your game.”
he chuckles. within minutes of getting home, his girl makes everything better.
“thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, his hands finding her hips. her heart feels ten times lighter.
“for getting on a flight you booked? in first class? to live in your penthouse?” she says. “you’re welcome. big sacrifice.”
rafe smirks at her again, leaning closer. their lips press in a slow, sweet, long kiss. he pulls back once he feels her hand on his cheek.
“you stressed out, baby?” she whispers. his eyes are still closed an he only nods, grimacing. she strokes his cheek with her thumb.
“you want me to help you relax?” she says. he leans lower, his forehead on hers. his stomach is numb. his boxers suddenly feel too tight.
“yeah.” rafe’s tone is low. needy.
“lie down,” she tells him. “i’ll make you feel better.”
his entire body is buzzing. once he’s on his back in his bed, they’re slowly pulling off each other’s clothes.
she thought when they’d inevitably get into bed, it’d be impatient and rushed, but every movement is careful. they want to savor each other. it’s so much better this way.
she leads him to lie on his pillow when he’s left in his boxers and she’s in her panties. she pulls down his boxers, watching him spring out, the coil in her body already tightened to its limit. she missed him so badly.
she holds him at his base, meeting his eyes as she slowly takes the tip in her mouth. she watches his toned body curve as he bucks his hips with a groan.
“fuck,” he whispers. “wait, wait.”
he shifts to his side, turning his nightstand lamp on so that he can see her better, instead of doing this in the dim of the sunset.
he lies back down, placing eager fingers at her roots, desperately guiding her back to where she was.
their eyes lock as she lowers again, her tongue hot against him, slowly sinking until she has all of him in her mouth. she softly gags and pulls back, leaving his length wet with her spit.
“you’ve been working so hard, hmm?” she asks, looking at him as she palms him slowly, dragging her hand over his slick hardness.
“yeah,” he says, voice strained. “fuck, i missed you so much.”
she feels better hearing his words. all the tension between them has dissipated, at least for now.
“i missed you, too,” she whispers. she wraps her lips around him again, feeling him twitch against the inside of her cheek.
rafe can’t take his eyes off of her. she moves slowly, carefully, her tongue flicking around him, her wrist twisting and stroking. his grip is tight at the roots of her hair as she starts to move faster.
he can feel himself getting closer. he doesn’t want to finish like this.
“come here,” he murmurs, cradling her head, leading her closer.
she obeys, hovering over him on her knees. his hands drag over her ass, running over the lace of her panties, squeezing hard as she lowers to press her lips on his.
they kiss hard and slow, over and over until she can’t anymore, breathless and grinding on him. his thumbs loop under the band of her underwear, pushing the fabric down.
she wriggles out of the lace and he grasps her waist to turn her onto her back, kissing her again, finding her wrists and pinning them tightly against his bed.
“i don’t think i’ll last long,” he rasps against her mouth.
“that’s okay,” she says. “i just want you to feel good.”
he so badly wants to tell her he loves her. but they’ve never taken that step, and if he does take it and she doesn’t follow, he might not survive the fall.
instead, he moves to rest his hand between her legs, inhaling sharply once he feels how wet she is.
“fucking dripping for me,” he praises. she spreads her legs wider and he trails up to her clit, starting to trace circles.
she arches her back, pushing against his hand, already getting close. her body is just as desperate and impatient for it as his is.
“i’m close,” she whispers within seconds, her eyes shut. he stares at her in awe, so damn pleased that he can do this to her and get her there so quickly.
“yeah? you gonna come on my hand?”
“yes, yes,” she breathes, her lips parted. “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
rafe wants to kiss her, but seeing her pretty face twisting in pleasure is too good to miss. one hand keeps her wrist pinned above her head while the other works with fast, firm movements, bringing her closer.
“i can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “you’re all i think about, you know that?”
she dips her head back, a soft moan spilling out of her mouth as she unravels, her body weakening with her orgasm. it hits her so hard that she trembles more than ever before.
she takes a moment to collect herself, then finds the strength to sit up just enough to grip him, guiding him to press against her. he groans as he starts to sink in her and she links her legs around him, pulling him in.
she presses her free hand against the head of his bedframe to steady herself so he can slam into her without any recoil, promising him the best sensation she can give him.
with one hand on her jaw and the other on her palm, interlacing his fingers with hers, he bottoms out, grunting against her ear.
“as hard as you want,” she whispers. “you know i can take it.”
her words make him dizzy. he doesn’t build up to the pace. suddenly, their slow, patient movements are gone, and he starts to thrust in and out of her fast and rough, to the hilt every time because of the way she’s keeping herself anchored against his headboard.
it’s like he’s drowning in her. he doesn’t want to come up for air. his breaths grow more shallow, his skin gets clammier, his pulse speeds up.
his bed is shaking with every slam, hitting deep inside her, wrapped in her heat and never wanting it to end. he squeezes her hand, wishing she knew just how grateful he is for her. not just for this. for everything.
“you’re mine,” he rasps. she tightens her legs around him, looking up at him as his handsome, sharp features crease in pleasure. “you belong to me.”
“yes,” she whispers. “i do. i do.”
rafe leans down to kiss her, his body going tight. she feels him grow harder, the pressure outright perfect, and he groans into her mouth as he comes, filling her with his heat.
he collapses on her, heavier than he was the last time they slept together. but she keeps her legs linked around him, withstanding the weight, running her hand down the curve of his spine while the other stays interlaced with his.
he’s panting hard. and he can’t control it when tears sting his eyes. she notices him shuddering, and she squeezes him tighter, kissing his cheek over and over again, her heart breaking for him.
“you okay, baby?” she whispers.
“yeah,” he says, and for once, he’s being honest about it.
all of this has been so hard and discombobulating, but with her here, life feels easy. and finally, he’s confident in something again. he knows they’ll make it. there’s no way they can’t.
“yeah,” he repeats. “hungry.”
she softly laughs, moving to wrap both arms around him. he’s so big and hard and heavy, but she tries her best to hold him, to comfort him.
“let’s get dinner,” she says. she knows his diet has been strict. “cheat day?”
rafe smirks against her neck. he didn’t know how badly he needed a vacation, and that he didn’t even have to leave his house to feel like he’s on one. he just needs her.
403 notes · View notes
zegrasdrysdale · 7 months
Note
Hi! Could you do a Luke Hughes x reader where the reader still goes to UMich while Luke is in Jersey w/ Jack and she speculates he’s cheating on her? Angst with a happy ending, preferably? Thank you!
[ 604 miles ] l. hughes
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paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader
summary : after seeing Luke on Jack’s private story, his girlfriend begins speculating that he’s doing more than just playing hockey
warning(s) : angst ! but w a happy ending. mentions of cheating. reader still goes to Umich
author’s note : oooh this is gonna be juicy
༺═──────────────═༻
She trusts Luke. She swear she does, but she can’t help but feel the little pull at her heart when she watches him in the background of Jack’s private story.
A bunch of their mutual Michigan friends started to text her while she was doing homework. Even fans on social media have been posting about it and tagging her in posts.
She was confused, then she opened Snapchat to see what they were talking about.
In one video, Jack’s drunk and dancing to some song that she doesn’t know. In the background, she sees her boyfriend sitting at a booth with some blonde at his side. He isn’t touching her, but she’s sitting too close to him.
In another video, Luke’s in the background dancing with that same girl. She notices the smile on Luke’s face when he faces the camera.
It brings tears to her eyes as she jumps to an immediate conclusion. She’s been right every time so far.
She truly thought he was different than the other hockey players she dated. They all cheated on her too, and Luke promised her over and over again that he would never do that to her.
Well, here he is. Probably cheating on her and Jack is posting it all over his private Snap story for all their mutual friends to see. It’s embarrassing for her.
It took months for Luke to break down the wall she built around her heart. They met halfway through their freshman year at Michigan. It wasn’t until the beginning of their sophomore year that they started dating.
With her sadness turning into anger and tears rolling down her hot face, she calls Luke. It keeps ringing. And ringing. So she calls one more time.
And gets his voicemail.
“Luke Warren Hughes, you have five minutes to call me back or you’re going to end up without a girlfriend,” she says into the phone. “I mean it. And you better have a damn good reason you’re dancing with some random blonde girl on Jack’s Snapchat.” Then she hits the end button and puts the phone on her desk with the screen up.
A minute passes and her phone doesn’t ring. She doesn’t get a text.
Two minutes pass and her fingers are itching to call him again. She wants to stay true to her word because if Luke has a good explanation as to why he’s with some blonde then he’ll call her back.
Four minutes pass from the call. She drafts a text to Jack that she’s going to send in a minute if her phone doesn’t ring.
‘ tell luke i’m going to send him his things that i have in my apartment and that i want mine back. i’m done. ’
After five minutes pass, she sends the text.
It’s not the first time that this has happened, and it’s the last. Not only is she done with Luke, she’s done with any hockey boys in general. Too many times has she gotten her heart broken because the relationship had to go long distance. Too many times has she had too much trust.
Two minutes after she sents Jack the text, her phone rings. Jack is calling her.
“I really don’t feel like explaining why-”
“What do you mean you’re done?” Luke interrupts before she can finish her sentence. “What did I do?”
Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious, Luke,” she replies. “I saw you in the background of Jack’s snaps getting too comfortable with a blonde girl. Sitting with her and a smile on your face while dancing with her? You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.”
“That’s not- baby, she’s a friend,” Luke tries to defend. “Jack’s friend if I’m being honest. He was busy hanging out with Nico and Dawson so she came to sit with me. She dragged me out onto the dance floor and told me to dance. I told her I had a girlfriend and she still dragged me to the dance floor and got close to me. I didn’t try to do anything with her because I don’t want to.”
Tears sting her eyes. “I gave you a chance to explain yourself,” she tells him. “I called you twice before I texted Jack. It took me texting Jack before you called me from his phone. You told me you’d never break my heart but you did. I don’t trust you, Luke. I’ve been told that same story over and over again.”
Luke stays silent. She has to dry her own tears that have rolled down her cheeks. She has to cover her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sob that he hears.
She’s standing her ground. She’s protecting her heart. The 604 miles between them should be enough space and make it easier to move on.
“(Y/N), I would never cheat on you,” Luke tells her. She can hear the sincerity in his voice but she still doesn’t believe him.
“Luke, I can’t right now,” she softly says. She’s pretty sure he can’t even hear her because of how loud it is in the bar or wherever they are. “I’m sorry.”
Then she hangs up. She shuts her phone off and crawls into bed, completely forgetting about her homework. All she wants to do right now is wallow.
His words are just words. She knows what she saw. Right now, nothing that Luke can say to her will change her mind about being done.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
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✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
It’s nearly two in the afternoon when she hears a knock on her off-campus apartment door. She hasn’t gotten up out of bed in nearly forty-eight hours except to use the bathroom. Her phone hasn’t been turned on since her talk with Luke the other day.
Someone is probably coming to check on her since she has fallen off the face of the Earth for the moment. That is the only reason why she drags herself out of bed to go answer the door.
When she swings open the door, it’s the last person she expects to be on her doorstep. He actually supposed to be in California right now. They have a game to play in a few hours in Anaheim.
Luke holds a single rose out for her and a little basket full of snacks is in his other hand. “I was going to get a whole bouquet for you but I forgot to grab one at the store,” he tells her. “If anyone asks, I did not pull this from the bed by the front door of the building.”
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I wanted to talk,” he replies. “You haven’t been replying to any of my texts or answering my calls. I told Lindy that I needed a few personal days and he told me that I can come back when I’m ready to. I didn’t want you to keep thinking that I was cheating on you or hurting you. That was never my intention.”
She rolls her eyes and walks into the apartment. Luke is quick to follow her and shut the door behind her. “You can say what you have to say then you can get on a flight to Anaheim to play tonight,” she tells him as she sits on the couch in the living room.
He sets the basket of snacks on the coffee table in front of her and sets the rose next to it. Luke pulls out his phone and taps on it for a second. She’s about to say something when he shows her his screen.
It’s a picture of the blonde girl that was with Luke, but she’s all cuddled up with Jack. Jack looks happy and is looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. It was taken at the beginning of the night because she can tell that there is something behind Jack’s eyes.
“It’s Jack’s ‘friend’,” Luke assures her. “They’re together but aren’t telling people they’re together but they make it obvious that they are. The reason she was hanging out with me for a little bit was because she wanted to know how to tell Jack that she’s ready to publicly be together.”
She looks up at Luke behind the phone. “You couldn’t answer your phone and just tell me that?” she asks.
“I left it in the car,” he tells her. He taps on the screen a few more times and holds up a screenshot of his and Jack’s locations. They weren’t together, and it looks like Luke was right outside the building.
It’s all making sense to her. Her and her trust issues were wrong this time.
A pout forms on her lips at the same time tears form in her eyes. “You really weren’t lying to me,” she mumbles. Her voice is incredibly shaky.
“I told you that I would never break your heart,” Luke tells her. “Not intentionally. I definitely wouldn’t cheat on you. I know you’re past with that and no matter how upset I am with you, I wouldn’t resort to that. Unlike everyone else you’ve been with, I’m more willing to communicate. Hell, I took time away from the team to come make sure we were okay.”
One of the tears rolls down her cheeks and Luke uses the back of his pointer finger to wipe it away. She leans into his touch and looks at him. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she says. It comes out as more of a sob than actual words.
He moves closer to her and throws an arm over her shoulders. She curls up against him and Luke kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he assures her. “I know how you think so I gave you a little bit then came to talk to you. Just needed you to think with your head and not your past.”
She frowns and throws her legs over his lap. Luke holds her close.
“Do you want to go to Anaheim to play?” she asks as she looks up at him. “There’s enough time for you to make it for warmups.”
Luke shakes his head. “I think I want to spend a few days with you,” he replies. “I’m pretty sure they can handle a couple of games without me. I need a handful of days off where I don’t think about hockey. I haven’t been playing the best so a break sounds nice.”
“It’s your first season,” she tells him as she runs her fingers through his curls. “There is so much pressure on you because of your last name. You’re most likely feeling it without realizing it.”
He looks at his girlfriend. “I know,” he sighs. “Just give me a few days and I’ll head back to Jersey to play when they get back from the California trip.”
She leans forward and presses a long kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” she tells him. “I think you’ll grow into your NHL skates. You’ll have an insane season next season, or even for the last 20 something games of the season.”
“I love you too,” Luke replies. “Sorry I made you think I was cheating on you.”
“Got you to come see me so I guess I forgive you,” she teases.
It’s been a few weeks since Luke came to see her. They watched the All Star game together in the apartment. That was the last time they saw each other.
Luke gets comfortable on the couch. “Can we take a nap since we’re okay?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”
“Only if we move to the bed because you are too big to share a couch with.”
༺═──────────────═༻
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anundyingfidelity · 3 months
Text
OUT OF MIND — Soldier Boy/Ben
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Summary: Ben believes he's alone in the lab, that you're just a product of his imagination and insanity. Is not like that, you're more real than he ever thought.
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.
Word count: 1.3k.
Warnings: sexual content, p in v, blowjobs, handjobs, heavy non-con (such as reader taking advantage of Ben), nudity, some angst, mentions of torture and being unconscious.
Note: *another one* this is part of @artyandink Jensen's drabble marathon (if it can't be due to the content of this is totally okay tho!) Anyway hope you like this dark piece of crap I had on my drafts because I could never write a long fanfic ever again, I'm taking so damn long to write.
☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
GEN MASTERLIST!
taglist is here!
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The last doctor left, metal door closing behind his back, leaving you all alone with the man lying down in a too uncomfortable stretcher, hands and ankles tied.
The doctor's instructions were clear. He didn't care what you'd do to the experiment in the room. No one cared. As much as a scientist you were yourself, you stayed until late, admiring the former hero at your complete mercy, with nowhere to go or a voice to yell for help. Not that he might needed though.
The room was cold as you paced to remain by his side. His chest going up and down, eyes closed as he slept thanks to the dosis of gas you always administered before taking the tests of his blood and getting into the good part: the torture.
Tens of scientists and doctors stepped the lab to test his strength and powers, gifting him of endurance and new abilities along the way. You were one of them. And this was your price for making him indestructible instead of killing him, switching completely the main objective of the reds. You never really talked to Soldier Boy, more than just the silent moans and gasps leaving your mouth when you actually got into business. Ninety nine percent of the time he was unconscious under the effects of the gas, but he did caught you on top of him a couple of times, or just sucking him off until he was hard in your mouth. The only thing further than talking was his green eyes staring at you, just as he woke up from the slumber. But that made it a thousand times better.
With your fingertips, you traced his bare arm. The skin hot against your hand, finding the way up to his muscular chest, and then down his stomach, stopping right above his crotch. Your mind started wandering all over with the past memories of you and him inside that same lab room.
It was wrong, but you couldn't stop.
You've done this countless of times, what was with doing it again? Besides, he was a piece of shit of a man as far as you knew, using women as appliances and then tossing them like garbage once he was bored. You had to have fun too. Your hand went under his pants, softly playing with his shaft, as your free one went to brush away the mess his hair was doing on his forehead, so delicately.
His cock grew hard thanks to your touch, jerking him off smoothly. It only made you yearn for him more, the wetness between your legs increasing as you rubbed your thighs together to feel some friction that could relief you for a moment.
You pushed your skirt up and took off your panties, completely desperate to feel him inside you. But before you pulled his pants down enough to free his dick, ans you leaned down to take the tip of his cock between your lips, sucking him just right to earn a somewhat loud gasp from his throat. You took him deeper in your mouth, soaking his shaft with your saliva and stroking with your hand what couldn't fit.
Just as you tasted some pre cum, you pulled back and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and lining his cock with your cunt, rubbing yourself on his length. You moaned softly sinking down on him, your tight, wet walls engulfing his dick, until your ass met the hot skin of his thighs. His cock twitched inside you as you rolled your hips in slow, deep movements, that soon became desperate. Biting your lip, you unbuttoned your blouse and pushed your bra down. Quickly, you held on his chest with the palms of your hands, riding him.
Soldier Boy brows furrowed, his breathing became unsteady as much as yours. Sometimes he looked like he would wake up in any minute, but he wasn't really able to. The features on his beautiful face used to change as you had your way with him because it was natural, and you loved to be in control. The only thing you'd regret was his big hands not being put into good use because of the restraints around them. You were so close to your climax that you wished he could bury his nails on your ass and mark it red while you're bouncing on his cock. Maybe someday you'd do it the right way. But not right now. Control suited you and you liked being on top anyway, playing with your tits at your own pace as they bounced with every thrust.
His cock met the deepest parts inside your pussy and you played with your clit and your folds, reaching sweet release and coating his cock with your juices. You continued the steady rhythm of your hips, going for a second orgasm, his dick throbbing so hard you would just fuck him until he spilled inside.
You let out a raspy moan as he came, filling you up and triggering your climax again, thighs shaking. You recovered your breathe, feeling his cock softening inside your pussy. His brows went back to normal, but you felt his heart still racing. Shifting on top of his cock, you reach his bearded cheek, caressing his features.
"I wish I could see underneath all this," you mumbled. "But I'm afraid you'll wake up for real and kill me."
You smirked just a little at the thought. Probably he'd just agree to fuck you if he was awake and back to his old self again, not drugged, not put into sleep. He was the perfect toy nonetheless.
But then, his eyes fluttered open softly. He thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, watching your face as the bright, white lights iluminated the room. Soldier Boy often believed you were a ghost from his twisted mind, that there was something inside his mind tormenting him to the point he was being used for sexual pleasure by an unknown entity. But your touch, the heat of your body, and your weight over his own told him otherwise. You were fucking real, straddling his lap, with his dick buried balls deep in your tight cunt, tits out and messy hair and lab coat. Soldier Boy groaned, hands clenching into fists.
He spent so much time, decades, inside those concrete walls that there was this primal need inside that couldn't be met. And you were there to make it true from time to time, even if he wanted it or not.
"Good morning, sunshine," you mocked when he tried to free his wrists, but was too weak to do so. "The gas effect is fading away I see."
He grunted as you pulled off from him, climbing down to fix your clothes and putting your panties back. Soldier Boy tried to scream, but his throat was sore; he had to fight the restrains on his limbs, however it was useless. He was so powerless and fragile for a moment.
"Shhh, it's okay," you whispered, putting your hand on his forearm. He looked at you with a mixture of fear and rage. "You're gonna be okay. I always take care of you," you smiled as the stretcher began to shake while he tried to set himself free. "Now don't try it, you're a good boy. Aren't you?"
Soldier Boy groaned like a scolded puppy once you combed his hair with your fingers.
"You've been here for a long time, and no one has ever taken such good care of you as I do," you said, leaning down until your lips were close enough to his ear. "So you better obey me and keep being a good bitch for me."
Once you pulled back, he got the perfect close up of your face before you turned around and left the room, the sound of your heels echoing before the metal door finally closed. In less than five minutes, the chamber was filled with novichok.
Before sleeping again, Soldier Boy knew it was real.
The woman fucking him on his dreams and living nightmares was so damn real.
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Soldier Boy taglist
@delaynew
@k-slla
@thesilmarillionblog
@onlyangel-444
@mrsjenniferwinchester
@daisy-the-quake
@jackles010378
@mostlymarvelgirl
@deans-spinster-witch
@drasticemotions
@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves
@believeinthefireflies95
425 notes · View notes
foreingersgod · 4 months
Note
I LOVE THE FICS LATELY AND ALL THE TIME !!
one of them being the cc being obsessed with her gf , now i wanna see a kate martin being obsessed with her gf !!!
Always take rests !!!!
Work Song . KM
pairing: kate martin x reader
A/N: i’m not sure if anon wanted soft, tooth rotting obsession, but i yearn for sweetie pie kate so i hope it’s ok :’)
Boys workin' on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burnin' heat?
kate was exhausted to say the least. practices, games…everything was really weighing down on her. she had so much on her plate all the time and it often got to be too much for her to handle. there was a lot of stress on her recently, being drafted and being the new girl on the team. she bared the overwhelming feeling of having to impress everyone, prove that she could handle it. and deep down she knew she could. kate was strong and smart and resilient, but her biggest fear was letting people down. letting you down.
that’s why, during times like this, she turned to you. her biggest supporter, her number one fan, her everything. you had been with her since the beginning. you were there for every meltdown and all the late nights spent in tears when kate felt like a failure. you were there for every loss and every win, there to clean up her nasty bruises and cuts. and now you were here to guide her through this huge change in her life. she wouldn’t be able to count on her fingers the amount of times you had truly saved her in the midst of all this. kate struggled with change, hated how she felt like she needed to start over with a whole new team and a whole new life. but you were there to remind her that nothing was going to change, you would still be with her every step of the way. all she needed was you, the most important thing in her life.
you were the reason she got up in the morning. you were the reason she kept pushing even when she felt like giving up. because she knew that at the end of the day, you’d be there with her, arms holding her tight to ground her. that you’d never leave her and, for that, she wanted to make you proud.
I just think about my baby
I'm so full of love, I could barely eat
she was gone for the week, in another state for an away game. but a week was 7 days too long for kate, she couldn’t stand being away from you. she remembers the night before she left, how she was packing her things unwillingly as you made sure she had everything in her bag. you were trying so hard to get her excited, it was going to be one of her first games upon her pro-ball debut and you had assumed she’d be ecstatic. but instead she was sulking (typical kate), talking about how much she was going to miss you.
“i can’t believe you’re about to go live out your life long dream and you’re sitting here pouting” you teased. she knew you were right, and she really was quite excited, but the thought that you wouldn’t be there killed her.
normally you would attend like you always did, but you needed to take the week to focus on finishing up school. kate admired the way you prioritized your studies, but there were times like these in which she cursed your determination. all she wanted was to see you out there, amongst the crowd, cheering her on. a big ‘20’ plastered on your shirt to show your support and a gratifying smile on your face. you were her lucky charm, she would say. but now she here, far from home and missing her girl.
it was the night before the game and kate and the team had opted for a nice dinner out. something to hype everyone up and to boost morale…well that’s what she was told. but it did little to cheer her up and get her excited. she dreaded leaving her lonely hotel room, somewhat dim and weary without you there with her. it had been a long time since she stayed in a room without you. kate had to fight her own mind to attend dinner with the girls, just wanting to stay in and facetime you instead. nevertheless, she managed to get dressed up and make an appearance.
the entire night she was miserable, as expected. she wanted to join in on the conversations, talk about what her teammates were talking about. but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. she was still jet lagged, tired, nervous, and definitely missing you. she couldn’t even eat her food because she couldn’t focus on anything else but the image of you. memories of your relationship flooded her mind as she messed with the food on her plate, all she wanted was to go back home.
not able to stand it anymore, she made some excuse about being sick so she could leave. she packed up the leftovers to bring back to her hotel room and bid everyone a good night. her time would be much better spent texting or calling you than feeling sorry for herself at the table.
finally, she made it back to her room. without a second thought she was changing her clothes and crawling into bed, pulling out her phone and pulling up your contact. she had no hesitation in clicking on the ‘facetime’ button.
the phone rang several times, making her worried that you had already gone to bed for the night. but, on the 4th ring, the call went through and your face appeared on the screen. it was a gorgeous sight, she thought, seeing you there. you had taken off your makeup already, pulled your hair back, and tucked yourself into your shared bed. oh how she longed to be in that bed right now. you had instantly smiled when you saw kate’s face, making her heart ache for you.
“hi baby!” you chimed.
and that’s all she needed to hear. all of her worries, doubts, all of her anxiety was out the window now. she had just wanted an ounce of your attention all day, and at last, she could relax finally having it.
There's nothin' sweeter than my baby
I'd never want once from the cherry tree
“what did you say?” kate whispered, so shocked that she could hardly speak.
tonight was not a usual one. you had come home upset and stressed out, the past few days you’d been struggling with your mental health. it wasn’t often that you had difficult days, but when you did, kate was at your side and ready to help you in whatever way you needed. but tonight you felt inconsolable.
with kate becoming more popular in the media with her upcoming career, there had been a lot of press coverage. you actually hadn’t had an issue with it, you were thrilled for her to see that she was getting so much attention. but with the praise and positivity online also came the negative parts as well. you had seen a few articles and instagram posts concerning yours and kate’s relationship. seeing your name in bold headlines caught your attention. it was a bunch of nonsense, really, some random person online blabbering about nothing. they were clearly bothered by the fact that you and kate were very much in love, writing about how ‘kate could find someone much better’ or how she ‘should be with someone in her own league’. you tried to remind yourself of how foolish that was, kate loved you deeply and wouldn’t ever think of leaving you for someone else. but, with your history of self image issues and mental health, it was hard to believe it yourself.
“i said,” you were both sat on the couch, thighs barely touching. tears streamed down your face as you had your head turned away from kate. you had seen another one of those damned articles earlier and it seemed to be your breaking point, sending you into a fit of sorrow “i said i don’t know why you’re still with me”
the statement had caught her quite off guard. how could you possibly think such a thing? had kate done something? were you suddenly falling out of love? her heart was shattering as she sat there, desperately trying to figure out what had gotten you upset.
“baby,” her hand found its way to your cheek, gently guiding your head to turn back to her. your eyes were red and your lashes damp as you locked eyes with her “how could you say that? i love you more than anything in the world-i don’t understand”
“i just…i’ve been seeing all of those posts about us, kate” sobs racked your body and you hiccuped to try and catch your breathe “i see all the things they say about us and i can’t help but feel like you deserve more than me”
she had known about those posts for some time now, since she saw you inspecting one the other day. it broke her knowing you were indulging in all the ridiculous things people were saying about your relationship.
“hey hey hey” she wrapped an arm around you, forcing you to move closer to her “i don’t want anyone but you, got it? you have no idea how fucking in love with you i am”
a scoff fell from your lips briefly before you shook your head. you wanted to believe her, but your mind was so convinced otherwise “you’re just saying that”
“well allow me to enlighten you then?” she prodded, wiping the tears from under yours eyes. with reluctance, you nodded.
“i have never loved someone so much in my life” she began “i don’t even know where to start because there’s so much i love about you that it would take forever to say it all. i love the way you love me. how you take care of me all the time without me having to ask. how you make me breakfast in bed and how you brush my hair before we fall asleep. i love how you send me pictures of cute things you see in the store when you should really only be getting groceries. i love that you cry during movies even if it’s supposed to be happy because it shows how deeply you love things. and i love that you always think of people, even though that sometimes means you forget to take care of yourself. but i love that too, i love that i get to be the person that shows you how much love you deserve. that i get to sit here on nights like these and tell you how wonderful you are. because it’s true. honey, you are the best thing that has every happened to me and i’d be fucking crazy to let you go”
she let out a deep sigh, having lost her breath from her confession. if she had anymore air in her, she’d still be rambling on and on. the two of you stared at each other for a faint moment, her blue eyes gleaming back at you. your bottom lip quivered as another tear rolled down your cheek, although this time, it was a cry of joy.
“kate martin,” you muttered, almost speechless “i love you so so much”
she just chuckled softly and smiled at you. she guided you into a much needed hug, feeling your head tuck itself underneath her chin and your arms fall over her shoulders.
“i love you a thousand times more”
'Cause my baby's sweet as can be
She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me
it was dark outside already, signifying the late hours of the night. you weren’t sure what time it was, definitely late enough that you should be asleep. but instead you and kate were both still up.
the orangey glow from your bedside lamp illuminated your bodies, creating silhouettes on the bedroom wall. kate was laid against the bed, back against the headboard and head tilted back. you were hovering over her as you straddled her waist with legs on either side of her figure. your head dipped down to her exposed neck, lips connecting lazily to her supple skin. eager hands roamed her shoulders and down the sides of her torso. her hands did the same, anxious to touch you wherever she could.
this was another instance in which kate unfortunately had to be away from home for an extended period of time. like every other time, she thought about returning home to you every second that she was gone. she hated not being able to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were right by her side. you had also been yearning for her arrival and hated her absence just as much. so when she was on her way home, she knew she would be having her way with you that night, no matter how late it might be. it may have been well into the early hours of this morning at this point, but the need to be with each other was a far greater need than sleep.
when she stepped foot in that house, she was already dropping her bags at the door and ridding of her shoes. sock clad feet marched quietly up the stairs as she began imagining kissing you for the first time in over a week. she pushed the door to your room open ever so gently, taking in your inviting presence. you had been fighting sleep, she could tell. your eyes peeking through low eyelids, hair messy from laying against the pillows, your lips turned in a sloppy smile. what a sight for sore eyes.
she was tempted to tell you to go to sleep, to get some rest that she knew you needed. but you were already sitting up and crawling over to her side of the bed where she now stood. one of her oversized tshirts hung loosely on your body, your lacey panties emerging from the bottom. before she had the chance to do so much as greet you, your hands were gripping her shirt and tugging her into you. soft lips molded into hers as you frantically kissed her. she took it as a sign that you needed her just as much as she needed you. so she let herself indulge, slithering into bed with you. articles of clothing were discarded to floor. your shirt thrown over your shoulder, kate’s sweatpants and top banished to a pile next to the bed.
now you were here, idly making out, taking each other in as much as possible. one might think you hadn’t seen one another in years by the way you both were acting. your bare chests were pressed together, creating arousing friction. kate’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your ass where her fingernails left small indents. she was breathing heavily and groaning as you left dark purple marks along her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, a reminder of your devotion. her hands pressed deeper into you, guiding your hips in a smooth rhythm of grinding against her lap. the room felt hot from the breathy moans and content sighs.
once you decided you were done marking the skin of kate’s chest, you made your way back to her lips. both of you were too tired to do anything other than this, just needing to be close to each other. not that you needed much else, having her lips on yours was enough to keep you satisfied. it was like your lips were meant for hers. they fit so perfectly together, moved against yours in the most delicious way.
kate let out another moan as she felt your lips grace hers. the sensation sent shivers through her veins. kissing you had to be the best feeling in the world to her. sometimes she felt sorry for the rest of the world, because what a sad life it would be to not know what it would be like to kiss you. and at the same time she felt so damn lucky that it was her, and only her, that got to know what this felt like.
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down…
“i hope you know that i’m absolutely head over heels for you,” she said next to you “you do know that, right?”
you hummed in response, nose scrunching as you looked at her. the amount of guests at your wedding must have been well into the one hundreds, but right here in this moment, it was just the two of you.
underneath a sky full stars was the makeshift dance floor of your wedding venue, marbled tiles beneath your feet. twinkling lights lit up the quaint garden of your backyard that you and kate both decided would be the perfect place to hold your reception. it was the middle of your first dance as a married couple and it was the most perfect moment of your life. your dress swayed behind you in the breeze, hair cascading around your face elegantly. kate looked even more beautiful than she normally did, if that was even possible. both of her hands rested on your waist and your arms looped around her neck as you danced across the floor slowly. your wedding playlist sounded in the distance and your families were watching you with teary eyes, but you and kate were only focused on each other.
“i do,” you replied “i hope you know that i’m also madly in love with you”
“i do” she had repeated like she did during her declaration of intent at the ceremony. you would never forget the look on her face when she’d said it for the first time “i’m never going to get tired of this”
“of what? our first dance?” you laughed, head falling back briefly “hate to break it to you, babe, but i think it’s gonna have to end at some point”
she laughed too, shaking her head. she pulled you in closer as her eyes wandered over the features of your face.
“no” she grinned “of looking at you”
your face was already turning a bright shade of pink, you could feel it as you smiled, but you didn’t mind one bit. you let your arms fall from around her neck as you heard the song of your dance come to an end.
your hands traveled up to take her face in your hands, something you have done often, a small action of your love. they directed her face to drop down to your level. you got onto the tips of your toes to meet her half way, kissing her passionately like your life depended on it. both of you smiled into the kiss, hearing everyone around you cheer as your dance concluded.
and, god, did it feel good to be loved like this.
…I'll crawl home to her
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
A/N: i feel like this started out so good, but then i kinda fucked it up at the end, but i hope you all like it !!
570 notes · View notes
missglaskin · 5 months
Text
Yandere S.T.A.R.S Team (Resident Evil) platonic headcanons
Note- I am back (It's been years), this has been in my drafts so I said fuck it/this is so messy and the timeline/canon may not be accurate but enjoy! This is mainly platonic, but w/some characters it could be interpreted romantically
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Characters; Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, Joseph Forest, Brad Vickers, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, Enrico Marini, Kenneth Sullivan, Edward Dewey
The first person you perhaps meet is Albert; he is the leader of the S.T.A.R.S Team. Not only do all the recruiters get approved by him, but he also overlooks all your tests. He greets you like any other, but gradually something takes a hold of him. He's in denial at first, even seeming harsh. You may initially believe he didn't like you; oblivious to the countless files and cameras hidden everywhere.
Having the rest of the team be just as enamored was not on the table. You are immediately welcomed by the team and Rebecca is the first to befriend you since you two are the youngest of the team. Like how Richard was tasked with watching over Rebecca, he’s tasked with the same responsibility over you (even if Wesker preferred to do it himself).
Chris can't help but grow quickly fond of you. He positions himself in the role of your protector; feeling the utmost responsibility for your happiness and safety. So if you have any problems - whether it's with Chief Irons or getting in trouble for say, breaking a rule; trust he'll be quick to intervene and 'save' the day.
You're all Chris ever talks about to Claire and before long, the two of you cross paths. Claire, like her brother assumes herself in the role of being your friend right away. She occasionally pays you visits and you can be sure that you will receive calls from times when she's unable to visit. Claire expects Chris to keep her informed of you at all times.
Barry, Enrico, and Kenneth all take fatherly roles; they look at you and already placed adopted papers on the table ready for you to sign. It makes it all the harder for Wesker to have any absolute control as they all put their foot down.
Barry adores you and it’s not taken lightly when it’s said he treats you as his child, probably cause he views you as actually one of his own. He invites you to a family dinner, introducing you to his family who all naturally take a liking to you. Barry insists on his house always being open if you need a place to stay or run into trouble. 
Since Barry sees you as his own, there is a never-end to his dad jokes. Even when you comment on how terrible it is, he likes seeing the smile on your face. Trust you'll be invited to every birthday, barbecue, or any family Burton event.
Enrico while he adopted a fatherly role, he was a bit reluctant to get so attached to you. He’s the few in the team who's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to call out the others when he thinks they are going too far. He worries a lot about your safety, and most times it's Enrico who comes out on top of arguments on who gets to drive you home. 
Kenneth as the oldest of the team, feels the most responsible for you. He is aware just like Enrico and doesn't wish for you to be scared of him or the team. He wants you to come to him whenever you need anything, even for small tasks such as finding a specific file. Like Enrico, Kenneth has no problem telling the others to back off if you need space.
More trouble comes along when Forest and Joseph come along. They develop their tendencies the quickest and tend to be the most clingy out of the team. They (along with Chris) become your partners in crime.
Joseph is someone you can always count on to make you smile even in the most serious of situations; he doesn’t care when others lecture him for it. You're not safe from his teasing. Granted you're not the target of his pranks but he likes to poke fun at you from time to time. It's why no alarms are ringing in your head when he says something questionable, assuming he’s just being Joseph.
You're not safe from Forest's playful teasings either. He can be a little annoying, poking your cheek or trying to tickle you when wanting your attention. Like Joseph, he's very affectionate, putting his arm around your shoulder and resting his head on your lap if you allow it. The others lecture him for doing it so publicly but Joseph knows it's jealousy talking more than anything.
As said, a squad of its own is formed; Chris, Joseph, Forest, and you. While they tend to be jealous, the three are okay with sharing when it comes to each other. Forest and Chris enjoy competing in shoot training and showing off who can do it better, inviting you to place bets. They're happy to show you all the gun's tricks and let you choose your weapon's signature.
Joseph, being a mechanic, can't always spend as much time with you. But he'll eagerly drag you into teaching you the ropes, whisking you away from the other two. He beams with pride when you grasp something from his impromptu lessons. Even if he's not exactly teaching you anything, he's happy to chat about anything as he works. 
Jill becomes someone you’re close to, someone whom Chris and Barry trust to leave you alone with. She’s not afraid to whisk you away from the others when she wants to and won’t hesitate to call out anyone selfishly taking your time (Uhm Joseph). 
Most of all, Jill loves having girl time with you. She's there for any fashion advice, gladly taking you shopping to revamp your wardrobe. If you're unsure how to do your makeup, she's eager to help, though Jill never wants to teach you so you can keep coming to her.
Jill is also willing to use any excuse to have you stay over at her place anytime even suggesting sharing an apartment to ‘save money”. And if you think Wesker’s the only one with a bunch of files, Jill has a hidden drawer filled with everything she has on you. 
Brad becomes incredibly attached but is a bit shy about approaching you. He'll do little things to make your day better, like bringing your favorite coffee (watching you do it too many times) or organizing your desk just the way you like it.
Brad tries to agree with everything you do, supporting any ideas you bring forth in, team meetings and hesitates to snitch on you, always trying to talk to you first to prevent trouble (aka punishments). Similar to Kenneth, he's aware of his tendencies and doesn't want you to fear him.
Richard is the softest guy on the team as said, was tasked with watching over you and quickly grew fond of you, He has made it well known that if you ever need help you can seek him out even when you get in trouble, he’ll gladly keep it hidden from the others to avoid you being in trouble even taking the brunt of it.
If you find yourself spending time with Richard, trust that Rebecca is there, too, being the sweetest in the group as well. Initially, she might not fully grasp her tendencies, but once she does, her sole concern is your safety and happiness. She frowns upon hearing Jill and Chris discussing ways to keep you confined and is the one who tries to reassure the others not to be too 'harsh' on you.
Edward may appear intimidating, but he's actually a softie at heart. While he might not warm up to you as quickly as Forest and Joseph did, given some time, he grows fond of you and eventually places him as your trusted friend. He's aware that his demeanor can be intimidating and desires nothing more than for you to feel comfortable opening up to him, always offering a smile whenever he sees you around the RPD.
----------------------------------------------
Chief Irons has learned that you're the one person he can't even dare to go near. You might be a troublemaker, breaking every rule in the book, but Albert will put his foot down to ensure nothing comes of it. It's enough that the rest of the team has a dislike towards Irons, and he, along with everyone in the RPD, knows that crossing you means crossing the Stars team.
Wesker also keeps the extent of his monitoring and knowledge of you a closely guarded secret. He's aware that Kenneth, Enrico, Richie, Edward, and Barry all vocally dislike the idea of 'stalking' you in such ways (they all do but try to keep it as ‘morally right’). In his grand plan, he hopes to lure you away, but he must do it in a way that won't raise suspicion.
You have the most protective people watching over you. Even a simple accident like someone spilling a cup on you puts everyone on high alert.
Your favoritism doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the RPD, sparking rumors around the station that Edward and Barry quickly shut down whenever they hear someone bad-mouthing you.
Chris and Forest, on the other hand, can be incredibly impulsive, leading to all sorts of issues that Wesker and Enrico have to deal with. Jill and Joseph even got in trouble once for punching someone.
That means going on no dangerous missions; the one thing they all agree on. Wesker ensures that all your missions are carefully managed, eliminating any risks of you being in danger, and he pretends not to know what you mean if you ask. The other members are willing to gaslight you, suggesting that you just happen to get the easy ones, even Rebecca and Brad.
They're all eager to fight each other to train you, each claiming they're better at teaching you self-defense. Chris and Forest are the ones who usually end up teaching you since they're often the first ones to arrive. But everyone knows that if Wesker insists on training you, they can't object. And it's probably for the best, as some (Uhm Richard, and Edward) will pretend to lose or go easy on you because they don't want to "hurt" you.
The team normally doesn’t go out, but they all want to spend time with you. Usually, all of you go to diners (except for Wesker, wonder why). There's a little argument over who should order you to prove who knows you the best.
Your seat is chosen to please everyone, sometimes between Jill and Chris, other times between Richard and Rebecca. Another silent argument happens when they debate on who should pay for you; Enrico succeeds by slipping the payment to the waiter when the others aren’t looking.
Everyone always makes sure you come home safe. You expect numerous calls from everyone checking up on you. They all secretly know you're fine, as they're in cahoots with each other, but they just want to hear your voice.
There's also a chance that if Richard, Forest, or Jill are the ones bringing you home, they'll make some excuse about needing to stay overnight because they're tired or the weather is bad.
 If you need someone to drive you to the station or pick you up, perhaps because you can’t drive, they're all willing to fight each other once again to do so. They've left important meetings or appointments countless times just to rush to your aid. It's almost always Wesker, Richard, Enrico (and sometimes Chris) who beat the others in picking you up.
Once again, you're always taken to events that the teammates have. Brad is getting takeout, he's on his way to pick you up since he assumes you're also hungry. Forest wants to go out for a drink, prepare for him to be at your door, and when you attend together, he’s protecting your drink with his life and will even pretend to be your boyfriend. Barry has a baseball game he wants to attend, so why not come with him and his family. 
Jill needs to pick up a new outfit or something in the way, she decides to take you as well. Rebecca comes along, and sometimes the three of you have spa days in the process. Rebecca also loves going on road trips with you; there needs to be a person or two with you to ensure nothing bad happens. Rebecca once brought you to her favorite team's basketball game and the two of you shared those nachos and fries. It was Rebecca's happiest memory.
Movie nights are a must. Brad and Edward agree with anything you wish to watch, while Jill and Joseph are fighting over which ones to watch. Chris and Forest are trying to get your attention more than actually watching a movie. Meanwhile, Rebecca is actually enjoying the movie and wants to talk to you about it later on. She and Richard ensure you have your popcorn, and Richard brings your favorite bakery treats.
Expect to be always praised when you're around the team. Wesker himself praises you for a job well done whenever you find a clue or bring him the right file. Richard, Edward, and Rebecca are the most vocal. Also expect Chris and Barry to give you a pat on the back, while Forest and Joseph jokingly pat your head.
Wesker has you as his right-hand assistant, even when it’s not officially confirmed as such. You're tasked to help and stay by him whenever he needs assistance. He pretends not to see everyone side-eyeing him when he places your desk right next to his, but then again, they all ignore his stare when they come to your desk for whatever excuse they need.
The best people to comfort you are Barry, Enrico, Kenneth, and Richard. These men hate seeing you in tears. Brad will try to make you laugh while hugging you, while also finding the right words to comfort you. You can lie to Enrico, and he'll still know; he's memorized your body language, pulling you into an immediate hug before the tears even come. 
Kenneth's ability to comfort shines in giving the best advice and solving any issues you have. Richard will sit next to you and listen; it could be the middle of the night, and he'll gladly answer any call or stay up to do any activities that will cheer you up.
Something everyone has huge arguments about is punishments; it gets heated at times. These discussions are, of course, not done in your presence.
Wesker is open to punishments, Chris and Jill agree with precautions, and Barry may reluctantly agree but claim he wants nothing to do with it. Brad and Rebecca voice their disagreement but can’t really intervene. Edward and Richie, like Barry, say they want nothing to do with it. Forest and Joseph don’t like it but will let the others make the decisions. Enrico and Kenneth are the most vocal against such decisions.
-------------------------------------------
Everything is going well in the team until the mansion incident.
You had to be with the Alpha team, unaware of the fate that fell upon the Bravo team, as there was no way Wesker would have let you out of his sight.
You had to witness Joseph get mauled by the zombie dogs, and if it weren’t for Wesker shooting the one coming at you and Chris pulling you along, you may have been a victim of it. Getting into the mansion has them immediately checking for injuries, only to realize you are just shaken up.
If you try to suggest coming along with Chris to check on what’s happening, Wesker immediately disapproves, even pulling rank to have you stay by him, and Jill agrees. Chris assures you he'll be just fine.
Things happen and it may lead you to be separated from Wesker and Jill. It makes all of them panic and look for you. Chris is nervous but assumes you must be with either Wesker or Jill. Jill and Wesker are trying to remain calm as they search. There is a chance you will meet Rebecca, who informs you of Edward's death, and this leads to you reuniting with Chris. 
Alternatively, you may come across Barry, who refuses to leave your side, leading you to reunite with Jill. Both scenarios will have you meeting Richard, who immediately embraces you upon seeing you safe. You may also encounter Enrico, who seems hesitant to inform you of who he believes is responsible for the situation.
Forbid you get injured at any moment in the mansion, everyone will be in panic. Barry will try to reassure you, holding your wound while Jill rushes to get any herbs. Or Rebecca will try to tend to you while Chris silently panics in the background, refusing to leave your side. Richard will insist you stay in a room for your safety while he tries to find Rebecca or first aid. Enrico tries to remain calm, bringing you along with him as he rids the area of any zombies, fearing the risk of leaving you alone.
Soon enough, you will find out about Wesker's involvement, and his first act is to keep you as a hostage, even knocking you out. He’s merely bluffing but needs to keep the others away. If he encounters Enrico, he is well aware the man knows he’s a traitor and will kill him in front of you. After all, you will know the truth either way.
It all ends with Wesker believed to be 'dead,' killed by the tyrant, and the mansion about to blow up. You and everyone mourn all those who you have lost, and you are surrounded by the remaining survivors as they try to comfort you and tend to any injuries you may have gained. 
You are too lost in your grief and all you have experienced that you don’t realize the eyes all watching you, as they all make a silent vow to themselves to forever keep you safe. And most of all, you don’t know that Wesker has been reborn, getting out of the mansion as he plots his revenge.
@aphroditelovesu @yanderes-galore @gwynsly @tiddlybops
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aphroditelovesu · 5 months
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Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader
❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️
❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.
❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.
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You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.
Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.
Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.
Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.
Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.
You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.
Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.
Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.
Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.
As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.
He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.
In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.
You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.
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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months
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Jason with an Author!S/O and he worships the ground they walk on. he’s almost always begging to read drafts and small pieces, regardless of the content. he treats his copies of his partner’s publications like just the smallest trouble will destroy them. and if his partner writes about him? sappy love poetry about HIM?? he might as well die again, this time happily.
(the creative writing major brain is going bonkers.)
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I’ve left this on the back burner for far too long, sorry about that and I just wanted to add on the stuff you’ve already said with things of my own cuz I like this idea so much!
Jason w/ an author!s/o who must add a character of his likeness and personality into almost every book they’ve ever made but changes his name to keep people from catching on. Jason however noticed this and gets a little flustered at the fact that he has been inserted into everything you had ever written, but he’s flattered too as he’s teasing you about how great this character you made up sounded from time to time.
Jason w/ an author!s/o who asks him for advice on how the story should continue and where certain characters should be by the end of it. Jason is more than happy to help you with the new novel however he could, which often leads into you both stayed up late brainstorming ideas until you got the one that suited your story just right.
Jason w/ an author!s/o who leaves heartfelt and personal messages inside of Jason’s own copies of your published works just to see him smile and smother your face in kisses out of pure happiness. He loves them dearly but refuses to touch them now in fear of bending and or ripping the cover by accident.
Jason w/ an author!s/o who often writes about him in your spare time and in the most romantic of settings too that it was enough to have Jason blushing up to the tips of his ears. He keeps them tucked in a box somewhere to read to himself later on while you slept peacefully against his chest. He loves these mini stories you’ve created for him more than anything and felt blessed that you even went out of your way to do something as sweet as this.
Jason w/ an author!s/o where you always have him in either your acknowledgments or dedications of each of your books, siting him as your inspiration and your motivation to keep writing when you felt like giving up because you punctuated a sentence wrong. Jason has never felt more appreciated in his entire life when you do this for him as he felt as though he had died (again) and went to heaven.
Jason w/ an author!s/o who thinks that your writing style can’t compare to the authors that Jason has read before and feels a little insecure about your own writing, thinking that it’s bad, but Jason will always pick you back up by saying he loves your method of writing stories as it allows him to escape reality for a while and that’s all he needs for a story to be good. That and he had an unhealthy bias towards you and Jane Austen. He won’t read anything else unless it’s by your hand. He vows this but you think he’s being dramatic. (He’s not, he’s very much not.)
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