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footiehoefics · 6 months

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Another one?

Hi! The dad Mase fic won (ofc) so here it is! I promised i would post a fic before I left for trip so I doubt I will be able to post another one on the weekend but I will leave you with this one! :) I hope you enjoy it! TW:non, Angst/Fluff, 3.7k words. My last fic is here! and my masterlist here!

gif: @doinggreat

“I feel like Miles has grown so much since I last saw him” you heard Lauren say to you while she had your baby boy on her lap.

“I know, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you guys.” you told her, sad that it had been way too long for liking not seeing Lauren, Declan and their son Jude. “Jude also looks like a big boy now I can’t believe it.” Lauren smiled at you, placing Miles back on your lap.

It had been a nice evening, you had made the drive down to London for 2 days to pick up some stuff from your old house. You wanted to stay a couple days to catch up with Lauren, Dec and some other friends as well. You felt like you hadn’t socialized with anyone ever since you moved to Manchester 3 months ago.

You had been busy taking care of Miles, making sure you had everything you would need in the new house, unpacking everything and buying a bunch of stuff. Of course Mason had helped you, but when he was at training it was all you. You didn’t complain though. This was the life you had always wanted. Being a mother and having the love of your life as your husband.

It wasn’t the best start for Mason and the team but he had you and he had Miles to comfort him.

Miles was 2 years old and he was the best thing that has ever happened to both of you. In all honesty, he was not planned. You remember vividly how you found out you were pregnant. You were scared about having a child, about the whole pregnancy and especially about what Mason would say. Both of you were not married at the time so having children together was not something you saw in the near future. However, when you finally told him, Mason assured you he fully wanted this with you and no one else.

He was so excited about being a dad. He would read books about fatherhood, he would talk to your bump every single night, before every game and after every game no matter if it was a bad game or a good game.

It melted your heart, seeing him put so much effort and taking this very seriously, not just winging it. Besides the excitement and all the research he did, he also took amazing care of you.

The pregnancy was hell, to put it lightly. The first couple of months felt almost the same as normal. The only thing you felt sometimes was fatigue and you felt like you got tired very easily.

When your bump started showing more and you were further along, that’s when things started getting rough. Puking every morning, sometimes at the crack of dawn. Mason would have to hop in the shower with you because of the dizzy you got. Your emotions were all over the place. Swollen feet. Backache. You felt like every side effect you had read about, you had it.

Mason hated seeing you unhappy some days because of your pregnancy. It was supposed to be one of the most beautiful experiences in your life and it was the complete opposite. Every day you could not wait to pop that baby out and he knew that.

When he had away games, that is when he felt helpless and felt awful for leaving you. You also hated it. You missed him but you also needed him. What if you got so dizzy you fainted in the shower? What if you can’t put your shoes on because the huge belly was on the way? What if you couldn’t roll over the bed to go throw up or pee at night?

There were a lot of things he helped you with and when he was away it scared you. Luckily his mom would visit him frequently and help a lot. You were lucky your friends also didn’t live far away, you could count on them if you need to.

“Is this handsome boy getting a sibling any time soon?” Lauren cooed at Miles and smirked at you.

“Jesus” you laughed at her comment.

Having another baby was definitely not on your list after your pregnancy. The thought of going through nine months of hell again, scared the shit out of you. Especially now with a 2 year old.

“Declan and I are already trying for the second one.” Lauren spoke up again, smiling.

“Trying for what?” you heard your husband say, approaching you, Lauren and the babies in the living room.

“Another baby of course.” Lauren said, looking at him.

“Oh wow, you just openly say you and Declan are having sex all the time?” Mason responded, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

“Oh my god, don’t be rude in front of the kids.” Lauren replied, laughing along with you.

“Anyways enough about my sexual life with Dec when are you two having another cutie like this?” Lauren said, pinching Miles' cheek.

“Wow why are we talking about our sex life?” Declan said right after Lauren.

Lauren’s question made you uncomfortable. You had not talked about this with Mason. You knew he wanted more than one kid, and he knew you wanted more than one kid too. However, after being pregnant with Miles that changed a little, and you never mentioned it to your husband.

“It’s not about sex, I’m asking when they are planning on giving Miles a little baby sister or brother.” Lauren replied, taking the tea Declan had just made her.

“We need to start soon, I don’t want them to have a big age gape.” Mason said, as if it was the obvious answer.

You were still silent, not wanting to say anything yet. This conversation had to be between you and Mason.

“Yea, that’s why Lauren and I started trying a couple months ago.” Declain told you, laying back on the couch so he could get comfortable with his son.

Mason placed his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “We can start trying tonight…” he whispered in your ear so only you could hear his comment. You smiled a little, but not convincingly, and Mason caught that.

“Babe, you know what I heard is not good to eat when you're pregnant? Papaya, I read it today.” Lauren said to you. “We don’t have to eat it when we get pregnant again.” You didn’t like how everyone was just assuming you were going to get pregnant again. If someone were to ask you right now, you would immediately reject it.

“Well that’s if we have another baby…” you said whispering the last part. “You don’t want Miles to have a sibling?” Lauren asked.

“I mean, no…I um-” you got uncomfortable again. You didn't want this to turn into a discussion with Mason right and you could see from the corner of your eye he had a confused look on his face. “I just I’m not thinking about that right now you know?” you finally replied. Lauren noticed you got uncomfortable so she changed the subject.

Mason removed his arm from your shoulders and headed to the kitchen to grab a drink. He was confused, he thought you always wanted more than one kid. Why would you change your mind now? The thought of you not wanting more kids was eating his mind up for the rest of the night. He was not as talkative and cheerful as he was 30 minutes ago.

Once it got a bit late and Miles was on the verge of falling asleep, you decided to go back to the hotel you were staying. The drive wasn’t long but the entirety of it was silent.

It was awkward between you both and there was tension. You didn’t know how to start that conversation but you knew you had to. You were also staying at a hotel, it wasn’t like you could just avoid each other. Miles had his little bed in the suite and then it was your space, that was it. If the conversation ended up being an argument, you could not just leave to the guest room and sleep there or cool off downstairs in the kitchen.

You got back and noticed Miles was already asleep in his car seat. You carefully grabbed him out of the car and carried him to your room while Mason grabbed your purse and Miles’ bag.

Once you got to your suite, you carefully placed Miles on his bed, making sure there were enough pillows around him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead.

Still radio silence between you and your husband. You turned on the lamp beside your baby’s bed and headed towards the bathroom. You started by taking your clothes off, putting your pj’s on and then doing your skincare routine. Once you were applying your last product, you saw from the corner of your eye Mason entering the bathroom. You couldn’t read his face.

He came up to you, hugging you from behind. You melted at his touch. You both hated being at odds with one another and giving each other the silent treatment.

“Can we talk?” Mase whispered in your ear. You nodded your head and turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry it was awkward today, I just didn’t know what to say…” you replied looking at him.

“It’s not your fault babe…” he told you. “I’m just confused, I mean I thought having another baby was in the cards for us and that we were on the same page.”

“Mason” you sighed, closing your eyes, dreading to tell him how you really felt about it.

“Have you changed your mind?” he asked you, again confused.

“I mean, I don’t know, maybe? Being pregnant was really hard, it wasn’t like what i thought it would be and what people told me it would be like. I don’t know if I want to go through that again.” you said, with a sad expression on your face.

“Baby, pregnancy was never gonna be easy…and I will be there for you again, like I was with Miles.”

You understood his point, but it bothered you that he didn't get yours.

“I know Mase but, it’s also just not the right time. We just moved to Manchester and Miles is getting bigger by the second. It was kind of easy to cope the first time because he was our first child. But what about now? I can’t just decide to nap in the middle of the day if I get dizzy, I have Miles.” you explained to him.

“My mom can drive up for a couple of days each month-” he tried saying before you cut him off.

“Mason, stop. We can’t have your mom driving every couple of days just to help me.” you said getting irritated he was not getting your point.

He let go of your waist and stepped back a little, noticing your change in mood.

“I'm trying to offer solutions Y/n.” he replied more sternly. “We had always said we wanted a big family, we promised each other that-”

“Yea but people change their minds okay?!” you said, raising your voice a bit more.

Mason walked towards the bathroom door to shut it. He didn’t want your argument to wake up Miles.

“We both grew up with siblings and we both know how much we needed them and how much fun it was, we really won’t give that life to Miles?” he asked you, with more frustration in his voice.

He was right. Your siblings meant the world to you. You always dreamed of creating that little family and your kids having the same dynamic you had with your siblings.

“Do you think I’m so selfish that I don’t want to give that life to him? Of course I want to, but I don’t know if I can go through that again, do you understand? You weren’t passing out in the shower, you weren’t getting crazy mood swings, you weren’t throwing up everyday, you didn’t feel tired all day, you weren’t carrying a 7lbs baby in your tummy.” you replied more annoyed.

“Yea, but I was there in the shower with you, I was giving you back rubs and belly rubs, I was holding your hair up and getting you all the medicines you needed for your dizziness and nausea, I was making sure you were okay every single second of the day. Don’t you dare make this as if it was only you. I understand my body is not the one that changes, but I was part of it too. I was there helping you through everything and I want to do it again because you are my wife and the mother of my son and I love you more than anything.” he said, almost without taking a break to breathe.

You never liked when he snapped at you, it was rare. You felt awful for now for making him feel like he wasn’t a part of it. He was the best help you could’ve asked for. The best daddy and partner. He made you feel like the sexiest woman ever when you were pregnant even though you felt like you were a whale.

“I am trying here okay? We can go to the doctors and ask what to do so you don’t go through the same things next time, we can hire someone to help us around with Miles, Anouska and Luke are our neighbors they can help, there are so many ways we can go about this but you have this tunnel vision in your head that it will be the worst experience of your life. I want to make it easy for you, but you just won’t let me.”

Mason hated raising his voice at you but he wanted you to understand how he could help this time and other people could too.

It made you tear up a bit. You didn’t want to upset him. He opened the bathroom door to go back to the suite, leaving you with a lump on your throat and teary eyes.

You dried the tears on your face and went back to the suite. All the lights were off except Miles' little lamp he had to have beside his bed because he was scared of the dark.

Mason was already laying down on the bed not facing your side. You hated sleeping like this. Not being cuddled up to him. He was pissed and you respected it by giving him his space.

—-

Did you sleep well last night? Absolutely not. Miles woke up twice, and you felt nauseous the whole night. You didn’t know if it was that feeling of guilt or hurt from your argument with Mason or if it was actually nausea.

When you opened your eyes, you could see the sun peeking through the curtains. Mason was still not facing you.

You suddenly felt the urge to throw up. You got up from bed quickly and ran to the bathroom. Your footsteps woke up Mason, making him turn around and see you were not by his side anymore.

He was confused, but then he heard you in the bathrooms and knew you were sick.

He got up quickly and rushed to the bathroom to help you. He didn’t care about last night, you were his wife and he needed to help you and make sure you were okay.

“You okay baby?” your husband asked you, kneeling down and holding up your hair.

“I’m fine, I don't know why I got nauseous.” you replied.

You flushed the toilet and stood up to brush your teeth. Mason still had a concerned look on his face and didn't leave the bathroom until he knew you were 100% okay.

“I’m okay Mase, I promise.” you told him, turning around to look at him.

Even though you were not on good terms, he leaned in and kissed your cheek.

“I’ll shower so we can get going.” he said to you.

You opened up the curtains and woke your baby up to get him ready for the road trip ahead.

—-

The whole drive back to Manchester was not as awkward as yesterday, but there wasn’t much conversation between you and Mason.

You used it to think about everything. You felt like you were overthinking but, after connecting the dots, feeling nauseous, throwing up in the morning, your period was supposed to come in today, you started thinking you might be pregnant.

You and Mason weren’t exactly avoiding pregnancy. You weren’t on birth control and sometimes you didn’t use a condom. Of course there was a possibility of you being pregnant.

—-

“Can you pull over here please?” you asked your husband.

“You okay? Do you need to throw up?” he was concerned now.

“No, no I just need to pee and I’ll get something for Miles.”

Mason pulled over and you got out of the car, making sure you took your purse with you as well.

You did need to pee but you wanted to also buy a pregnancy test. The thought and curiosity you had was eating you alive you just wanted to know.

You bought what you needed, bought Miles a little snack and headed back to the car.

You were already only 20 minutes away from your home so soon enough you would find out.

—-

You got back to your house safe and sound. Miles was awake by the time you got there so it was perfect timing.

You got him out the car seat, brought him inside the house and placed him on his play set in the living room to keep him entertained while you and Mason unpacked everything else from his car.

It was still very weird between you two. It felt weird not talking to him and joking around.

Once everything was unpacked, he closed the door and followed you to the living room where your son was.

“Can we stop doing this?” Mason said out loud, making your head turn to him.

“Stop what…?” you asked back

“Not talking to each other? Ignoring each other?”

You paused for a minute, thinking of what to say to him. You felt his stare.

“I think I’m pregnant…” you mumbled.

“What?” Mason asked, he clearly did not hear you since you said it almost just to yourself.

“I think I’m pregnant.” you replied, this time looking up at him.

He knelt down to the ground so you were face to face. You were sitting on the couch with your hand on your lap.

“Are you serious? Or is this just a joke?” he was confused.

“I’m serious, I really think I am” you said with a concerned look on your face.

He was just looking at you, taking in what you said. What if after last night something changed for him as well?

You started tearing up a bit.

“That’s why I asked you to pull over, to buy this,” you told him, pulling out the pregnancy test out of your purse. “I didn’t know what you would think after last night.” tear spilling from your eyes.

“Come here baby.” he grabbed your hand and placed them over his shoulders so he could hug you.

You hugged him back tightly, tears still falling and gentle sobs coming out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry Mase,” you sniffed and pulled back from the hug to look at him and apologize. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a part of it, and I’m sorry for upsetting you.” he was looking at you with a sad face. He didn’t want you to feel like shit because of an argument.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, I’m scared of having another baby. I promise you having our little family is the most important thing to me, I just felt overwhelmed, I don’t want it to go the way it did before.”

He grabbed your face with his hands, wiping the tears with his fingers.

“You will never disappoint me, my love.” he told you looking into your eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared babe, I’m scared too.” he said, chuckling a bit making you smile lightly.

“If you are pregnant, we go through it together yea? We are a team and I will be here for anything that you need okay?”

You nodded your head. He leaned in and kissed you.

“I’m sorry too about yesterday, I don’t like arguing with you.” he told you once he broke the kiss.

“I know.” you whispered and kissed him again.

“You should take the test…” Mason suggested. You nodded your head and headed to the powder room near the living room. Mason stayed with Miles, watching over him and waiting anxiously for the result.

You came out of the bathroom with the test covered. “Okay we have to wait 5 minutes.” you told him, sitting down again on the sofa.

Mason sat down next to you, pulling towards him so you were cuddled up.

It was 5 minutes of silence. The only thing you could hear was Mason’s heart beat and Miles playing with his toys.

Your timer went off and you immediately got off Mason.

You uncovered the test, “PREGNANT” it read.

You smiled with tears in your eyes and turned around to look at Mason. By the look on your face he knew it was positive.

He pulled you back and hugged you tighter than he ever had before.

“We are having another baby” he said to you.

“Yes we are.”

You were still hugging, both with tears on your faces.

Once you pulled apart, you saw miles just staring at you both making you laugh.

“Look mate,” he told him while holding up the pregnancy test “mommy’s pregnant.”

“Baby?” Miles mumbled

“Yes!” you chuckled. “Here in my belly” you told him, touching your belly. Miles wobbled towards you and touched your belly smiling. “Baby” he repeated, making your heart melt.

You looked over at Mason. He was crying. He had his whole life infront of him.

He leaned in and kissed you while Miles was hugging your belly. “I love you, more than anything” he said to you in between the kiss.

“I love you more.”

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fan fiction #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff

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lunarsigh · 1 year

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hugging the sumeru boys

Characters: GN Traveler with Tighnari, Alhaitham, Cyno, and the artist formerly known as Scaramouche.

Word count: ~2.3k

When he's presented with an unhappy, touch-starved Traveler, what does he do?

People tell Tighnari a lot of things. He has that kind of face, he supposes. Sometimes, they tell him things he would really rather not know. But it's rare that someone stays silent when he's clearly trying to radiate "I am trustworthy, please talk to me" - like you are right now. You've been staring into the fire for the better part of an hour, answering with monosyllables when he's asked about dinner or night watch shifts.

If you had proper ears, they'd be drooping. Which is the thought that finally gets him to sit next to you and say, "Okay, what is it?"

You blink, as if to dispel whatever you were seeing in the fire. "Oh. Sorry. I'm just … I don't know, in a mood. Thinking about the wrong things."

Tighnari doesn't know what things you're referring to, but given his experiences with you, you probably have a lot of "wrong" things to dwell on. You don't deserve them, but it's the nature of what you do. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly." Your mouth curls upward in a half smile, which is almost sadder than your previous expression.

The offer is out before he has a chance to consider it. "Do you want a hug?" He's done this with others; with Collei mostly these days. He has never been super touchy-feely himself, but sometimes touch is what people need to ground themselves, and so it's part of his arsenal to make sure whoever comes to his part of the forest will leave intact, one way or another. It's just never been something he considered offering to you, until now. And he's considering taking it back, apologizing, when you suddenly nod and scoot closer to him.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you lean in, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your head rests on his shoulder, and he leans his cheek against your hair. You have a very particular scent, he noticed it the first time he met you, something he can't quite place, something that reminds him of both the earth and the stars at the same time. It's not a scent found in his forest, but it belongs here nonetheless. Because it's your scent. And you belong here. With him.

And that is a thought Tighnari wasn't expecting to emerge. At least he didn't say it aloud. And at least you're not looking up at him to see how his cheeks heat up. But you're soft and warm in his arms, and when he looks down he can see a more content smile begin to form on your face. "Thanks," you murmur.

"Don't mention it."

He lets you sit there like that for a long time. He won't talk about it the next day, but when you catch him looking at you with a slight blush as you make your way through the forest, he simply shakes his head and moves forward, smiling.

At first, Alhaitham thought you were one of those annoying people who moped around hoping someone would notice and pay attention. But after some observation, he realized that you actually weren't paying him any mind at all, you were so caught up in whatever was making you unhappy. He's not sure what bothers him more - that you're this unhappy, or that you seem to have forgotten he exists.

(Alhaitham is smart enough to know his own strengths and weaknesses. Being self-centered can count as either, depending on the day and the situation.)

You've been moving around the room for a while now, picking up a book, reading it for a minute, then putting it back down and going to look for another. Normally, that kind of restlessness irritates him, but with you, he rather likes having the opportunity to watch you over the edge of his own book, to appreciate the grace with which you move, the lines of your body, the way your expression twitches each time you realize you cannot concentrate on this book, either.

He wants to know what makes you tick. But if you're not going to tell him, then he'll have to take matters into his own hands.

This time, when you pass him, he sets down his book and reaches out to grab you by the waist. The surprised noise you make is quite pleasing, and he makes a note of it - perhaps one day soon, he'll perform a thorough investigation of what else might get you to sound that high-pitched and breathy. But for now, best not to follow that train of thought, or else the results will be evident to you, as he drags you into his lap. "What the hell -"

"Shhh," he says, wrapping one arm around your waist to lock you into place, while picking up his book with the other. "You're moving too much, it bothers me."

He expects an indignant reply, not the immediate loss of all energy. "Sorry. I'll stop."

You try to stand up, but he holds you firm. "Yes, you will." It's a plush, oversized chair, more than big enough for two. And he'd rather see you annoyed than … whatever this is.

And, well, he finds he enjoys having you pressed against him, warm and solid. He'll have to do this more often, if you don't try to kill him for it.

You're probably considering it, judging by how stiff you are. But Althaitham decides to go all in, keeping an arm firmly locked around your waist, while opening his book and beginning to read again. He's good at multitasking. A few long moments later, you relent, slumping down and squirming to find a more comfortable sitting position. The squirming is kind of a problem, one you'd start to notice if you moved back any farther … but no, you find your position and prop your feet up on the arm of the chair, reaching for a book on the table next to you. When Alhaitham looks up at your face again, you're giving him a familiar look, one of disbelief and mock weariness, but it's mostly free of the sadness you wore a few minutes ago. That's all that matters, really.

The two of you will do this again, Alhaitham decides. This, and more. You'll just have to get used to the idea.

Normally, you and the wanderer once known as Scaramouche travel in a fairly companionable silence, which he's come to appreciate, not that he'll actually tell you that. But he relies on it enough that its absence is notable. Not that either of you are talking while you walk down this quiet stretch of road. No, it's just that your silence is heavier, your mind clearly somewhere else. Somewhere dark.

He doesn't like being reminded of that silent, dark place - he spends too much time there as it is.

"What's your problem?" It comes out more hostile than he intends, but he's still learning how to rephrase his thoughts into more palatable words.

"What?" You look over at him, blink away whatever was living behind your eyes. "Nothing. Nothing to do with you, anyway."

"Then what is it?" He can admit to his curiosity. You've encouraged it, after all. You can't blame him for exercising it now.

"Nothing!" you repeat sharply. It's been a while since he's seen you be irritable with him. You usually go out of your way to stay level, to be the grounding force for his still volatile personality. In a way, it's almost comforting; it's almost like you're treating him like a real person.

"Bullshit," he responds, almost cheerfully. "You hid it from that flying menace of yours, and she's too dumb to get it. But I know a shitty mood when I see one."

The look you give him almost reminds him of your first few meetings. That's both comforting and disturbing, in all the weirdest ways. "Why do you care?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I dunno," he says. "I just … want to know, I guess." He doesn't precisely know why. Or, at least, he's not ready to put it into words just yet, even inside his own head.

You stare at him for a long moment, before your whole posture seems to collapse in on itself. "It's stupid," you say, turning your head to look away. "It's just … something reminded me of my twin, and it's just staying with me. It happens sometimes. Nothing to be done about it."

In that moment, he knows that he'd kill your sibling, just for causing that note of despair in your voice.

He remains silent, though, and you continue after a moment, in a quiet voice. "I really just want a …" You laugh, in a way that sounds like you're mocking yourself. "A hug. How dumb is that?"

Oh no. You're not allowed to have any of that self-hatred. He's still hoarding it all for himself. It just seems wrong on you.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?" You look back at him, confused.

"You want a hug? Fine. I'm not the one you want, sure, but I'm physically capable of it."

You stop in your tracks. By the time he realizes it and stops, he has to turn around to see you again. "Are you serious?" you ask.

That note of disbelief feels a bit like a needle stabbing into him. "Well, if you don't want it, then -"

"- I do."

"What?"

"If you're serious, then yeah." You're mumbling a bit; sunset has fallen, so the shadows may be playing tricks on him, but are you blushing?

Well, at least he's not the only one. "Yeah, if you want."

He honestly can't remember the last time he hugged anyone, aside from the weird manner-laden greetings people sometimes forced upon him in the Harbingers. But after some awkward shuffling, you close the last bit of distance and wrap your arms gingerly around his waist. He carefully mimics your stance, encircling your body and gingerly pulling you closer. He can hear you sigh softly, a note of release, of just the smallest bit of relaxation. And when he feels an answering tightening inside his chest, he realizes exactly how big of a mistake he's made. How much he's going to remember about the feeling of your body this close to his. On purpose. Because you want to be here. Because you trust him.

Oh, fuck.

It's been a long week, and if he's being honest with himself, Cyno is incredibly grateful that you decided to join him for the last day or so. There's a lot of Canned Knowledge activity in the desert right now. He's not even close to having run everyone down yet, but he's got a couple more dealers than he otherwise would with your help. But, at the same time, he's worried about you.

He asked a couple of times, but you cut him off pretty firmly. Cyno knows all about the urge to keep your problems to yourself, he could teach a whole Akademiya course about bottling up your feelings, if they ever decided to add "unhealthy coping mechanisms" as an area of study. He hates being pressured to talk, himself, so he's not asking anymore. But he's still concerned.

You've been physically friendly with him before, slinging an arm around his shoulders, poking him in the arm, leaning against him occasionally when you stop to rest. He likes that. He misses it, actually. And that informs his next course of action. If it's a misstep, he'll apologize, but hopefully that won't be necessary.

As you stop to take a brief rest, Cyno comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder. He can feel your body stiffen briefly in surprise, but continues. "Hey. What do scholars eat when they're hungry?"

You relax as you realize what he's doing, though he feels a strange shiver run through you. Maybe he's talking too close to your ear, that can do it. But you don't move him, or tell him to do so, so he stays where he is as he watches you close your eyes. "I don't know," you say with mock weariness. "What do they eat?"

"Akademiya nuts."

He's got a whole explanation ready to go, about how he heard about them from a traveling salesman from Fontaine, but apparently it's not necessary - after a half second of silence, you suddenly start snorting with soft laughter. It's more than he'd dared hope for. Your body relaxes, and you slump forward a bit, taking your shoulder away from him. His reaction is automatic, unthinking; he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you close. Later, he won't be able to tell himself why he did it, not without admitting things he's not yet ready to acknowledge. It's just … something he needs.

Your response seems to be just as automatic, and even more surprising to him in retrospect. Almost immediately, you turn in his arms and wrap yours around him. Your weight is resting almost entirely against him, and he holds on tight, keenly aware of the trust you're placing in him.The value of that trust cannot be measured, not for him. Whatever he's done to earn it, he thinks, he will figure it out and make sure to do it a hundred times over again.

"Thanks," you murmur, close to his ear, and he wonders if this is why you shivered before - this unexpectedly strong sensation that runs down his spine, more than pleasant, awakening something deep within him that for a brief second, he wants to pursue more than anything else in the world.

Sense returns quickly. He's almost disappointed by it. But you're still here with him, and that's more than enough. More than he ever expected, honestly. And he'll hold onto you as long as you do the same.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fic #tighnari x reader #alhaitham x reader #scaramouche x reader #cyno x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x traveler #tighnari #alhaitham #scaramouche #cyno

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avonne-writes · 4 days

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Hey! I've been loving all of your MOTA posts lately, especially your insights into Gale and his unhappy childhood. Do you think there are any specific ways that the trauma from that bleeds into his domestic life with Bucky? Any nerves that sometimes get struck on without Bucky realising that's what they are?

Thank you so much! Yes, my headcanon is that this happens sometimes. I came up with a few examples, but there could be more.

In a post-war canon AU:

Gale is shit at expressing his emotions because he learned to suppress them. Post-war, this causes a lot of problems. The silent treatment is not a constructive way of solving disagreements.

If he wants to talk to Bucky / it's dinner time or similar situation and Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him because there's a sports event on the radio, Gale flips out. Unreasonably so.

Interestingly, he doesn’t have a problem with drunk Bucky initiating sex with him but only if he does it in the bedroom or bathroom. Drunken advances in the kitchen, the hall or the living room make his stomach roil. It’s very specific, and given Gale’s communication issues, Bucky is thoroughly confused why he’s so roughly turned down sometimes while Gale is on board on other nights.

This isn’t a negative thing, but Gale is obsessed with soft beds and blankets. He isn’t very picky about furnishing their place but the bed has to be perfect. After so many nights spent on hard surfaces both as a child and as an adult, he craves this comfort. He’s all smiley and cuddly when he’s in that bed.

In my HS AU, when they move in together during college:

Gale jumps at every loud crashing sound, especially glass shattering. He’s withdrawn for hours if someone accidentally breaks a glass or a plate.

Once, Bucky comes home drunk from a party in the middle of the night, and it scares him. He’s instantly on high alert and won't sleep much after. Actually, he moves to the couch that night. When Bucky realizes what happened, he’s very apologetic, but it's not the last time he goes to a party without Gale. But from then on, he stays out all night, sleeping at friends' places. It really upsets Gale but he only tells Bucky this months later, when everything comes to a head. After that, Bucky doesn’t do this anymore.

Gale is triggered by the sight of empty booze bottles. Full ones he doesn’t mind, but empty ones make him anxious.

Gale doesn’t know how to decorate and make a space welcoming so he doesn’t understand why Bucky grouches about their apartment being too sparsely decorated in the first few months. Then, when he finally starts to get more into homemaking, he’s nervous to share any ideas, even small ones - e.g. he spends long minutes staring at souvenir magnets because he doesn’t know which one works best or he agonizes over choosing a frame for a photo.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #hs au #anon #gale's childhood

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avinwrites · 11 months

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Mending Hearts♡ ♡ ♡

Synopsis: How you comfort them through both physical and emotional turmoil.

Aesop Carl

It isn’t that you don’t get along with Aesop; all things considered, you have the best relationship with him out of anyone. Sometimes, however, he is simply indecipherable. Most days, you can tell how he feels from his expressive body language, despite his inscrutable face, and communicate with him clearly, but on the days where something is off, it is quite difficult to get through to him. You know that the key to any good relationship is communication, but it’s hard and it takes a lot of courage on your part just to talk about the things that bother you. He never seems to understand that.

At the current moment, he hasn’t talked to you in two days, and your last interaction consisted of you attempting to console him after some particularly unkind words were said to him regarding his performance during a recent match.

“You sound just like them.” His voice has a cold and distant sound to it, reaching your ears with a harsh bite.

“What?” You can’t help but gasp in shock, his words hitting hard, having just been in a tender moment.

“Your words have no meaning behind them, it's all noise.”

"I know that my words may not seem like much right now, but I want you to know that I care about you." You listen to your voice, trying to place yourself in his shoes, but you just can’t. You’ve been there for him practically since you met him, and you know he’s having a hard time, but how can he say that? You can hear the sincerity in your tone, you know how it's supposed to sound. But he doesn’t get it.

“Leave me alone.”

“Aesop-” You try once more to negotiate a balance or some way that you don’t have to end the conversation with both sides unhappy. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I need space right now.” He forces out, gruff, though his voice still soft and low.

“That's… fine, just let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Resigned, you walk away, giving him the space he desires, but nothing more than that.

That “space” has persisted for days, and this time, you weren’t going to be the one to apologize, or even speak first. You always do and it’s hard. If he isn’t willing to give a little effort, then… you hate thinking about it, that if he won’t speak to you then anything you could’ve had would be over. All the good moments, being happy with him, hearing his infrequent, yet impactful laughs, it will have meant nothing. The fact that he was giving you the silent treatment, even though you weren’t sure if he was even aware of it, made you want to cave. But this time, you held your ground. After a while, you began to feel childish. You wanted to move past this and to forget the conversation ever happened, but what would you even say to him? He asked for space and you provided, and now you were just going to ignore that for the sake of not wanting to be uncomfortable. What kind of a person would that make you? Now it’s immature both to not say anything, and to talk to him. The situation confuses and frustrates you, and all you really want is a little bit of comfort, just a single word of encouragement from him would solve your inner turmoil, but you’re in the midst of a silent treatment, so you can’t even get that.

You decide it's best to move on and think about something else. This shouldn’t affect you this much, and yet, the situation stays in the forefront of your mind. The days drifted by, blurring together in indistinct monotony, and still, the silence lingered between you and Aesop. It was a heavy weight on your heart, a constant reminder of the distance growing between you. You found yourself going through the motions of daily life, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of him. It was hard to focus on anything else when the person you cared about most was shutting you out. You forced your mind to think about anything else, in fact, having thrown your entire person into distracting yourself, you seemed to improve in your game performance, and yet, you could not help but wander back through your thoughts to Aesop, and a pang of sadness would wash over you.

It hurt. Claws as sharp as the last words he spoke to you dug deep into your chest, gripping your bleeding heart. You miss his presence, his infrequent bouts of laughter that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, his unique way of seeing the world. You missed the connection you had, the feeling of being understood and accepted, and most of all, you missed the way he made you feel loved, cherished, and appreciated, like you could be yourself, no matter what.

And when you finally see him again, after shielding his face from you for days, he looks as bad as you feel. Sunken in eyes with the beginnings of dark wrinkles under them. His posture is worse than before, and he seems just out of touch enough with reality to not even notice that you sidled up to him.

“You look rough.” You comment, giving him a weak smile and holding out your hand as somewhat of a peace treaty, letting him know that you aren’t mad at him, and you would like to comfort him again, if he were to accept it.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, so quiet you can barely hear it. No one else is around; you still hold yourself back from pulling him into a tight, longing hug.

“You don’t have to apologize, I understand.” It isn’t long before your unsaid desires are fulfilled as he deliberately closes the gap between you and places his tired head on your shoulder, pulling you into a tender embrace. “Are you alright?” You can’t help but question. These acts of affection aren’t unheard of from him, but certainly aren’t common.

“I wish to be by your side, I’m sorry for pushing you away. Everything feels… better when you’re with me.”

You only hum in agreement in response, keeping him close to you until he decides he’s ready to break contact, but from the way it feels, that won’t be for a long time.

Luca Balsa

The great inventor Luca Balsa had admitted something to you not too long ago. He told you that he enjoys your presence and that being around you comforts him. He gave you his heartfelt confession, and you reciprocated. To you, this was the obvious outcome to your rapidly developing bond. Since the beginning, the two of you got along like a forest fire, mirroring each other’s exuberance and empathizing with each other at each nadir. Despite all you had already been through together, those experiences only reached the surface of what was to come.

Luca warned you a few times of his unpredictable changes in behavior due to his injury. You really didn’t understand what he meant, as you witnessed his mood swings before, and he had never been violent or even the slightest bit rude to you, but you nodded along each time, promising not to abandon him and to stay by his side through thick and thin.

This morning, after noticing that Luca was not eating breakfast with the rest as usual, you made your way to his room to check on him. Once, he had asked you not to step foot in his room, and since then you had adhered to this request, and you’ve never seen the inside. Diligently, you knock on his door, announcing that you were here to ensure his well-being. All you got was a groan in response.

“Luca, are you alright? Can I come in?” You pry, pushing yourself against the door to hear the other side.

“No, no I’ll be there in a second.” You heard his weary voice call. A soft thump then a louder one rumbles the door, before Luca, disoriented, stumbles out. He did not look good. His usually ruffled brown hair was a mess, as if he had been gripping his hair, it stuck out in certain places. His eyes were puffy, and his scared one almost completely shut.

“Luca, you look horrible, please go lay down. I’ll bring you-”

“No, I’m fine!” His frantic voice and waving hands cut you off. You waited. He took a step, then lowered his head into his hands, grasping at his temples and groaning softly.

“You are not fine.” You respond simply, taking his hands in yours. You gently push open his door to lead him to bed and you're struck with speechlessness at the sight of his room. Papers, tools and trinkets littered everywhere. Some torn paper stuck up with illegible writings scrawled half on the paper and half on the wall. His bed was unmade and there were a few dents and scratches all over his walls. When you come face to face with the words “Do not forget” written over and over, you realize why he never let you in his room.

You could have forgotten he was next to you, too distracted by the state of his room, but his shudders and reactions to pain called your attention back to him, who now clings to your legs as he stabilizes himself to sit on the floor.

“Come here, Luca.” You whisper, kneeling to his level and taking his head in your hands, brushing his hair back with your fingers, and putting a light, circular pressure on his temples. He leans into you, unable to hold back his rolling tears from his physical and mental distress. Unable to form any response for his harsh, quick breaths, he welcomes your comfort with a strong grip, beginning to sob into your shoulder. You do your best to help him, whispering sweet words to him and hoping your feather-light touch alleviates some of his pain.

After a long moment, his breathing evens and grip loosens. You remove his face from its place, nestled in your shoulder, and wipe his remaining tears with the tip of your thumb. Neither of you move. You only hold his face, searching his eyes for further signs of discomfort, as he looks straight into your eyes, seemingly more relaxed with each passing second. Only soft breaths and subtle shifts can be heard between you, taking time to just be comforted by each other’s presence.

Luca then presented you with the unexpected. A smile. Though weak and lopsided, his toothy grin shone through the darkness clouding his head.

“Thank you.” He whispers, pulling you into a tight embrace. Wordlessly, you hug him back. No words were needed to convey your inner feelings. You’d be here for him, always. And you knew that the same was true for him. Like you were made to support each other, the two of you sat in silence, knowing each other’s heart and accepting each other, flaws and all.

Sometimes I just want a hug

Anyways, I had the idea for 2 more characters, where this time they're the ones comforting the reader, but I couldn't make anything stick! I'll keep working on it though <3

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #idv #idv luca #idv aesop #aesop carl x reader #luca balsa x reader #luca balsa #aesop carl #l

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romanarose · 8 months

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For The Longest Time: Chapter 1

William Miller x fem!OC (Lorelei Giang)

Masterlist

Summary: Lorelei keeps running into William Miller in town. She can't seem to avoid him, as much as she tries to. The last time they run into each other, Lorelei is forced to accept his kindness she's been suspicious of for months.

Content and Warning (For chapter) SPOILERS IS WARNINGS, READ AT UR OWN RISK: Mentions of eating disorders, over exercising and skipping meals, domestic violence, Lorelei is a suspicious and distrusting of Will and everyone in general. That's part of her arch. Will is an absolute sweetie. Illusions to smut that will be shown next chapter. Unplanned pregnancy.

A/N: This fic takes place in the Romana TFverse, AKA the LaL universe. Takes place after and has characters from Leather and Lace (Santi and Laci) and the next series, Take Your Time (Frankie and Jana). You do NOT HAVE TO READ THESE TO READ THIS SERIES. some of the characters relations with each other mean more if you do, but Im specifically writing this to stand alone.

Not a whole lot of Will content out there so hopfully you enjoy!

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It was already shaping up to be a long night shift when Benjamin Miller walked in. It wasn’t that Lorelei had a problem with him specifically, but it was just one more thing to do. Benjamin, or Benny as the younger nurses called him with a giggle, was a nice young man, friendly, always had a smile on his face even if that face was bloody, and a handsome face too; she wasn’t going to deny it. He’d been in and out before, but she’d never met his brother until this night. Oftentimes it was his friend that took him in whose name she couldn’t remember but always wore a ballcap no matter the time of night, but sometimes it was random people. His brother must have picked him up a time or two because when he walked in with a bloody Benjamin she recognized him.

Lorelei crossed her arms. “Benjamin Miller. Again.” She sighed, tired, but also disappointed. He’d been gone for a while, staying out of trouble until now. “What is it this time?”

The brother interjected himself. “This dumbass got into a fight and we need to make sure he isn’t concussed” He then smacked Benjamin on his possibly-concussed head.

She was already in a mood, and the tall blonde was not helping. “Hey! Don’t hit my patients.” She motioned for a wheelchair. Benjamin she could handle, his brother she wasn’t thrilled with. Behind them trailed a short blonde girl. Sister maybe? She certainly wouldn’t have inherited their height, there was at least a foot difference, but she had their blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes, although her blue was more pale, while the boys were bright. Girlfriend of one of them?

“It’s okay” the brother laughed, smiling a bright smile, but that just made matters worse for Lorelei. “He’s my brother”

“I didn’t ask. He’s my patient, this is my hospital, behave or leave.”

He raised his hands in defeat. “Yes Ma’am. His slight southern drawl coming out.”

Lorelei turned to the nurse that would be doing his intake. “Get him a scan, make sure he somehow avoided traumatic brain injury again.” The boy was asking for a problem. She wasn’t sure how much older she was than him, if at all, but she felt motherly as she often did.

The brother yelled at Benjamin about him not flirting with nurses, illiciating another glare from Lorelei. When he saw her unhappy face, he apologized and reached out a hand. “William Miller.”

Lorelei was more interested in the young girl standing quietly behind them who hasn’t said a word, looked nervous, and had traces of blood around her nose. As a nurse of 10 years, Lorelei clocked the warning signs of abuse and only briefly shook William’s hand, not bothering to look at him. “Lorelei” And she moved to the girl. “What happened to you?”

Loralei continued, motioning her thumb back towards where Benny went. “You guys get in a fight? “

Will leaned in. “Actually, she got in the middle of another fight-”

She simply held a hand up to him. “I wasn’t asking you.” Her intense gaze was focused on Laci, her tone was soft. She looked scared, pink lips sealed tightly shut. Another warning.

Laci shook her head.

Will tried again. “She has-”

This was her last straw with him, over the man injecting himself into every conversation. ““William, I’m going to need you to step back, please.”

Will opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when he decided better. He turned to Laci. “Use your notes app, I’ll be over here.” With a soft smile to Laci and a nod to Lorelei, he walked away.

Lorelei turned back to Laci. “Hey honey, everything okay?”

The girl pulled out her phone and typed in the notes app.

Laci took a moment to type. ‘I have trouble talking sometimes. Ben and Will are my friends.’

Lorelei nodded, but continued. “Did one of them hit you?”

Laci considered lying, but opted for the truth. ‘Kinda. Benny got in a fight and I tried to stop him, he accidentally hit me. That’s it.’

Watching her carefully, looking for the hint of a lie… but could find no reason to suspect anything other than what she was told.

“Wait out here, fill out these forms, he’ll be done soon” She began to walk away.

Will cleared his throat. When Lorelei turned back to him, she was greeted with a cheeky smile. “Yes?” She asked.

Will raised an eyebrow at her. “Well?”

She smiled back, but put her hands on her hips, challenging him. “Well what?”

At that, Will scoffed, still keeping his smile despite his mock offense. “Well?! You basically accused me of hitting her, and I didn’t.”

Lorelei's smile was a challenge, ‘keep going’ it said ‘I’m not backing down’ “I won’t apologize for seeing clues and being suspicious. You work in my line of work for one week, you’d do the same. I’ll talk to you when your brother is discharged.” She walked off.

Benny was fine, although she told him to quite fucking around before he found out.

“That girl your sister?” She asked, finishing his discharge papers before she sent him on his way with another worse. She didn’t want to deal with William again.

Benjamin chuckled a little. “No, that’s my best friend, Laci. She’s dating my friend Santiago, you might have seen him picking me up a few times.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but I think I’d prefer him above your brother, he’s a pain.”

Once again, Benjamin laughed. He liked to laugh, didn’t he? “Lore, I guarantee you, Santi would be way more of a pain in the ass than Will.”

Lorelei put both hands on his shoulders. “Quick. Fucking. Drinking, Miller.” And she sent him on his way.

The next time she ran into William Miller she was out to dinner, she was out to dinner with Tyler, less than thrilled with the blatant way he and the waitress flirted as if you weren’t right there. Lorelei couldn’t be too upset with her, a girl had to make money. Little did she know, Tyler was a shitty tipper even if he got a face full of tits every time he got his drink refilled. She wasn’t sure why she was with him, honestly. They met in Philadelphia when Tyler was still in the navy and Lorelei was somehow convinced to leave Philadelphia to live with him here in this little Florida town. Bad idea. But it wasn’t like there was much left for her in Philadelphia either, just a lot of family she preferred not to talk to outside of holidays and birthdays.

So here she was, living with some mid-looking asshole who didn’t do the dishes because ‘You do it better’. This was not the life she had wanted.

But she also did not want to run into Will on her way back inside the restaurant because she ‘forgot something’.

Literally running to him.

“Oof” Was the sound above her, strong arms steady of her, keeping her from falling but not holding on a second longer than appropriate. “Sorry about that, ma’am- oh! Benny’s nurse.” Great, he recognized her.

“Well I’m not Benjamin’s personal nurse, but yeah, that’s me.”

He opened his mouth but was cut off by Tyler yelling. “Hurry up! I’m going to the damn car!” and walk away.

She rolled her eyes, and when they landed back on him, he was frowning. “Who was that.”

“My asshole boyfriend.” She reached into her wallet, pulling out a $10 as she shook her head. “He’s mad because I’m mad he tipped the waitress $2, as if we don’t both make good money” She plopped the money on their table.

“Well, that’s nice of you. But what on earth are you doing with someone like that?”

Lorelei couldn’t help but scoff at the audacity. “How about you just mind your business, how about that?”

Was it a little rude? Sure. But She had spent an hour getting ready for this date, curling her black hair into barrel curls, painting her lips red and her eyes with Maralyn Monroe bedroom eyes all to get ignored, and all she had to look forward to was Tyler likely wanting to mess up her make up with a dick down her throat and maybe, if she was lucky, stick a dick inside her for 5 minutes in which she had to touch herself to try and get off. Stupid fucking date, stupid fucking yee-haw town, stupid fucking men. She knew it was bad when she looked forward to work. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends at work, but that was just it. Work friends. Everyone else her age were married and kids and it was pretty rare they had the same days off and Tyler was always out with his dumbass friends leaving Lorelei alone with her vibrator, red wine and her collection of Liz Taylor remastered movies. Plus, Tyler said he knew the Miller’s in high school, and William was a dick.

He looked angry for a second, but pursed his lips, breathed, and then looked… sad. “I stand by what I said, you deserve better.” and with that, he walked away.

Annoying ass.

The next time she saw him, they didn’t talk until she had opened her eyes after passing out on the floor. Of course they went to the same goddamn gym. She should’ve known, she’d seen Benjamin here a time or two, but never his brother until now; at least as she knew.

Benjamin wasn’t accompanying William, however. Clutched to his hand was the same very small woman from that first night, straight blonde hair grown out to her shoulders now. Noting the hand holding, she concluded they must be dating. She was wearing cute workout clothes, expensive, and Lorelei couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to be so thin. She knew it was unprofessional; a nurse knows it could be anything from an eating disorder, drugs, high metabolism, sickness. It didn’t necessarily mean she was trying to look like that… still, Lorelei couldn’t help but watch them as she ran on the treadmill. She was surprised to see then go to the weights… maybe she wasn’t trying to be so skinny after all. Her face had filled in more since she saw her last.

Shaking off the distraction, Lorelei got back to work and speed up the treadmill; she was trying to get to a 10 minute mile, the focus should be on the time… but she kept looking at the calories burned section as it ticked higher and higher. She couldn’t help it, setting the speed fasting and the inclined higher.

And higher.

And higher still.

She closed her eye to make that last push… and didn’t open them until she was on the ground, her arm burning, and even though she was certain her eyes were open she couldn’t see. All she was aware of was touch and muffled talking above her as some clothe was placed over her and the distinct feeling of her sports bra being cut off; she felt like she could breathe again. Was she roofied? No, she was at the gym… why did her arm hurt? She was being picked up by strong arms and soon felt the of a fan as she is placed on her side. Recovery position. Whoever was with her knew their first aid.

Slowly but surely she came into consciousness as her vitals were being checked, opening her eyes one more to find William god dam Miller hovering over her, worried expression relaxing just a tad when he saw her wake up.

“What the fuck- what happened?” She pushed his arms away from her, not thrilled with being touched while technically naked under the- what is it? Jacket?

“You passed out on the treadmill. I noticed you were looking rough so I can to check on you, good thing I did, was able to pull the emergency stop when you fell. Not fast enough, I’m afraid.”

Lorelei glances at her arm. “What the fuck? Fucking ow.” A bad rug burn on her arm, dried blood and open skin. “Fuuuuuckkk” She went to sit up, but was stopped by tiny, soft hands keeping the jacket firmly on her chest.

“Sorry.” The woman said. “Your bra was really tight, so we cut it off.”

William was quick to clarify. “She cut it off, don’t worry.”

She wouldn’t have been concerned with well-intentioned help from a man needing to cut off her bra, but the fact he had the forethought to cover her up and have a female do the work close to her chest… well, she couldn’t find anything to be irritated with today.

Sirens in the distance.

“Oh, yeah, Laci called an ambulance, just in case.”

Yeah, she should probably go to the ER. Between the burn and passing out, it was a good idea. “I need my phone.” Fully expecting it to still be at the treadmill, Lorelei was surprised to see the blonde girl, Laci, pull it out of her own jacket. Lorlei must be wearing Will’s. Dialing Tyler, she dreaded telling him. “Tyler, I need you to meet me at the hospital.”

‘What did you do?’

Lovely. ‘“I passed out at the gym-”

‘Your going to the ER for that? Lora, that’ll be like, 3 thousand dollars!’

It wouldn’t be nearly that bad with hospital insurance. “You don’t pay my goddamn bills anyway so what do you care? Just get there in an hour to pick me up.” She hung up on him. Asshole.

Laci was dodging her eyes and William looked sympathetic. “We could go with-”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to get checked up and bandaged but it’s probably nothing.”

William wasn’t buying it. “I don’t want to just leave you stranded with that shithead doesn’t show. It could be heat stroke, or a seizure or-”

“I know the causes of fainting, William, thank you.” She bit at him, feeling guilty for her harsh demeanor when he helped her, but feeling like the attitude had a life of its own. “But it’s probably just because I didn’t eat yet.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you eat before running?”

“Ugh, I just forgot, worked a double and there was the crash off the exit ramp so we were busy.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t work out after a double shift when you didn’t eat?” He bit right back, not taking her sass. His girlfriend whispered his name softly, something that seemed to calm him.

The ambulance arrived, and Will helped her sit up. “Put your arms through the sleeves. Lace, can you zip up the back?”

Lorelei tried to protest that she didn’t want to steal his jacket, that she was sure the ambulance had a blanket she could cover with but Will wouldn’t here it. Lorelei slept in that blue jacket sometimes after that… it was really soft.

They kept meeting accidentally, over and over again, for months. He always annoyed her. He always had something to say about her relationship, her choices, and whenever she snapped at him he sassed right back… but never unkind, never rude. Maybe that was the infuriating part. He wouldn’t be deterred. She wanted him to just stop talking to her. She had a boyfriend, he had a girlfriend… but that didn’t stop her from fantasizing about him in the bath as he fingers played between legs. It wasn’t her fault he was that god damn handsome… and tall. So tall… he had almost a foot on her at least and his shoulders were so goddamn broad. Did he play football in high school? He did, she found out, after finding Tyler’s year book and looking for Millers in every grade. There he was, William John Miller. He did football, and surprisingly enough photography all 4 years as well as choir, and track.

Curiosity got to her and she found Benjamin Joseph Miller a year below him, same class as Tyler, but also found his pictures in the football teams page next to Will. After digging through all 4 of Tylers books and getting all the information she could, she sluthed out that Benjamin was in wrestling freshman year, then a linebacker the next 3. He also did arts, but no photography. Drama, oral interp, graphic design as well as welding and woodworking. Freshman year he only did wrestling and had very few pictures. The next two years is when he joined all the clubs, many pictures with him next to someone named Cameron. Then, after junior and senior year he was only in football.

A little more digging. Cameron Andrew MacDonald was in William’s class, putting him a year above Benjamin and Tyler. Did Cameron drag Benjamin into all these activities? He was in Drama, oral interp, graphic design, welding and woodworking all 4 years. Interesting, interesting.

She looked for every piece of the puzzle that was the Miller brothers she could.

Will’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to be in the books so they didn’t meet there.

A senior beach trip where Will kept his shirt on amongst a sea of shirtless men. A bit odd, considering the body of a football player is something they usually like to show off, but that wasn’t her business.

Benny playing Hamlet.

A lot of pictures with Benny. He seemed to be well liked, at least the later years.

When did she start calling him Benny?

After being so nosy she couldn’t help feel… attached in some way.

All that came to a culmination in the very early spring, she stood outside in that very same blue jacket and PJ pants, faced away and scrolling for hotel options that still had rooms at this hour when you hear his goddamn voice behind you, gleeful and teasing.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” The older Miller chuckled and Lorelei turned around to see him walking towards her, smiling with his hands in is pockets. “We’ve got to stop meeting like-” He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed to glisen of tears in her eyes and the bright red mark prominent even on her golden brown skin. His face immediately darkened. “Who did this to you.”

She couldn’t help but feel relieved to see him. Did he get on her nerves? Yes. But she knew he was safe. “Tyler, but-”

William turned on a heel, storming up the steps to the apartment complex door.

“William, wait!”

“I'm gonna kick his ass!”

She grabbed his hand. “I already did!”

Lorelei showed him her fist and he took it in his hands. They were so large, the skin callused and rough, but the touch was so careful as he examined her left hand that she was pretty sure knocked out a tooth. Or two. There was some blood on her skin and her fist and wrist hurt, but there wasn’t going to be much red showing up with her skin tone. It would probably swell in a bit, however. She was not someone who really knew how to fight, her win came from an element of surprise. Lorelei long suspected Tyler though dating her meant a docile asian wifey, not expecting someone so short to put up a fight. He underestimated the power of her anger.

“You punched him?” Will asked when his blue eyes, still bright in the darkness of night, finally looked into hers again.

She nodded. “A few times.”

The tiniest smile crept up onto his face. “Impressive. I can still go do it again if you want.” He was mostly joking, but something told her he would actually trek up to the apartment and pummel him again.

“No, that’ll just get you arrested. I at least have self defense. Right now I’m just trying to find a hotel, but all seem to be booked.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “You can stay with me?” When he saw her hesitation, Will quietly clarified. “Nothing weird, the guest room door locks from the inside. I just…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Thank you, but I really need somewhere to stay longer term until I can find my own apartment.” Her reasons for not going with him were less because she didn’t trust him, although he had an inherent distrust of men, but more her need to be independent. It was crippling, sometimes, but having to ask for help… it was humiliating.

“You can stay long term.” He insisted.

Lorelei’s scoff was perhaps a little ruder than it needed to be. “Yeah, and what would your girlfriend think of that?”

Confusion spread across his handsome features. “My what?”

“Your girlfriend. Or wife or fiance or whatever.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend”

“Did you just break up?”

“Ma’am, I havn’t been in a relationship since 2019.”

She found that hard to believe, an attractive man like this. “Well who the hell is the blonde girl you were holding hands with at the gym and was with you at the hospital?”

He stared at her for a second, brows furrowed before they unknotted in realization. “Oh! You mean Laci? She’s not my girlfriend, that’s my friend's girlfriend- well, fiance. They got engaged today, actually.” He nudged his thumb behind him. “Was just walking home from their engagement party.”

Now it was Lorelei’s turn to look up at him confused. “Then why the hell were you holding hands with her?” A little side action with his friend's girl?

Pausing, Will seemed to be looking for the right words, and immediately Lorelei was put on guard. He must be trying to find the right words to convince her; to lie. He must be sleeping with her behind his friend's back.

“She gets… nervous, out in public. She prefers to hold someone’s hand.”

Weird. Sounds fake. “Sure. Yeah.”

He sighs. “Listen, you don’t gotta stay long or nothing, but It’s getting real late. If you don’t have anywhere else to stay, my place isn’t far. We can figure out the rest in the morning.”

Well, it wasn’t like she had many other options. “Fine, but we’re taking my bike.”

Will assumed she wanted to get her bicycle out from a bike rack and take it over. What he did not expect was for Lorelei to walk to a parking spot and hop on a motorcycle. “Well?” She looked back at him. “You getting on, or are you just gonna try and keep up on your feet?”

Will almost offered to drive; he knew how to get to his house, after all and he did have a motorcycle license… but something told him even the offer would put her off more. She was not a passenger princess like Laci. So, with nearly a foot difference in height, Will sat behind the woman and directed her where to turn. She was definitely speeding.

Lorelei was impressed. It wasn’t just nice for a bachelor pad, it was nice. A modest house but well maintained, nothing flashy but god, having a house in this economy was impressive in and of itself. And it was clean. There were sparse decorations, but a few framed pictures and collages of pictures were placed here and there; she saw Will with his brother, some friends, a toddler girl, the woman he swears he isn’t sleeping with…

“Laci put these together for me. Said my walls were too boring.” He had walked up next to her, pointing to one of Will, Benny, two of their friends and the pretty blonde woman. Will was still wearing a shirt, despite them all being on a beach at a lake house.

“You grow up with them around here?”

He gave her a funny look. “How’d you know I was from here?”

Lorelei went for honesty. “Tyler said he knew you after I ran into at the restaurant. Said you were an asshole but that shows how good his judgment is.”

William nodded knowingly. “Tyler slapped a girls ass his freshman year, so I slapped him back. Surprisingly, he didn’t like it when it was him.”

She giggled, and immediately shut it up. She shouldn’t be finding him this funny, this endearing… damn that Miller charm.

Ever observant, Will noticed her shift. “You hurting or anything? Need ice?”

“No.” Lorelei shook her head. “It wasn’t that hard, he has a weak arm.”

“I meant for your hand.” He smiled down at her playfully, referencing her left hand.

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

Expecting him to get a bag of frozen pee’s, she was surprised when he came back with a wrist wrap. “No ice?”

“It’s an ice pack that wraps around the wrist.”

She forgot Ben did MMA… but she had a feeling these were more for his fighting outside the ring.

“Came at a good time, Ben’s been staying out of trouble for once so the room’s actually nice and clean.” He gestured her towards said room and they began walking.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair soon enough and it’s back to Benny’s”

After reiterating she can stay as long as she needs, Will gave Lorelei a spare toothbrush and pointed her to a cabinet where he keeps toiletries for any overnight guests and was impressed to find pads and tampons along side decent quality shampoo and conditioner of a few kinds, including hair care for black hair and thin hair. Must get a revolving door of women, she assumed. He told her there would be pj’s and day clothes in the draws and closet and was expecting to find Ben’s clothes, which would have worked fine, but was taken about by rows of neatly folded clothing in a few sizes. What the fuck.

“Are you a serial killer or somethin?”

Will popped his body around the doorframe but did not step into her room. “Huh?”

Hands on her hips, she motioned to the clothes. “This, the variety of shampoos, what the fuck.”

His face relaxed when he saw what hsi guest was referring too. “Oh! All that! Well, I never know whose gonna need to stay the night. I try to keep things on hand incase someone drinks too much or needs a place to crash. There’s some toddler girls clothes and pull ups in the bottom drawer, don’t be alarmed.”

She was slightly incredulous at that. “What for?”

“My niece.”

Benny didn’t have kids, and she knew they didn’t have any other siblings. Lorelei narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have a niece.”

A bright smile spread on his face, like he knew… he knew she had been asking about him. “Not biologically, but my friend, Fish.” William nudged to the wall full of photos. “He has a little girl, Rosie. Suspicious thing, aren’t you?” He grinned at her, large frame leaning around the doorway.

She was. She knew she was. But despite her suspicions of Will and most people, particularly men in her life, she stayed with Will that night, and after Will helped her pack her things out of the apartment, she stayed with him a few more nights… until she finally just asked if she could stay until she got on her feet.

Will readily agreed, and when Lorelei asked about rent, he refused, but she refused his refusal.

“I’m an ER nurse, I make good money. That loser just drained most of it. Few months, I’ll be set again.” They settled on $300 a month, and she knew Will caved just for the sake of her pride.

They worked well as roommates. Will had a high standard of cleanliness that Lorelei appreciated, and the two of them could be independent (Lorelei’s odd hours at work, Will spending days with his friends) and still come home and be on the right track. She liked it, honestly. Lorelei was honestly considering asking about staying longer term (For a more reasonable rent, of course) because he seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his. He never brought his friends over, which she thought was odd, but she also enjoyed not having a shit ton of men over and their annoying girlfriends like Tyler would do, no matter what hours she worked. Lorelei did have an admitted crush on Will but… who wouldn’t? She enjoyed hearing him talk about his army buddies and Ben and their girlfriends

There was Ben of course, she knew of him by this point, although thankful his ER visits had stopped. Lorelei chalked it up to his new girlfriend, Alice, but Will didn’t seem like a fan. Maybe she was the one to whip him into shape? Alice went to high school with them all, Will’s class, and apparently they’d been on and off behind Will’s back for a year, but knowing how overbearing Will could be towards his younger brother it was understandable.

Then there was Frankie, or ‘Fish’ as he usually called him. Benny, Frankie and two others had served with Will on a special ops team together. Frankie’s girlfriend, Jana, had been stationed in the army with one of those others, Santiago, and Santiago had set them up. Will explained that after the birth of their daughter, Frankie’s addiction got worse and the pair had broken up for a few years, but Frankie got clean for his family and as of a few months ago, they were officially back together. He explained that’s why he had things for Rosie to stay overnight if needed, just in case Frankie had a crisis.

Then there was Santiago and his fiance, Laci, who she was already familiar with. Santiago and Laci had gotten engaged the night she moved in with Will and were planning on getting married this summer, only a few short months later. Will was very vague on how they met, but Will said Santi had helped her out of a bad place and they had fallen in love fast. He always spoke very fondly of her. Of all of them, really.

There was only one problem. The same problem that caused her to stay with Tyler for so long.

She was really horny and really lonely. Not the kind of loneliness you can make go away with spending time watching movies with Will… the kind where you were almost horny for company. She needed that human connection, a connection so long ago lost on her she craves it wherever she can find it. That strive for approval so intense it’s why she skips meals and goes too hard on treadmills and she needs it, so desperate and so forceful it’s controlled her life, forcing her to constantly find other means of control.

That loss of control was so strong that when he vibrator was just not cutting it, Lorelei found herself wandering out into the living room where Will sat watching Blue Earth.

That same loss of control is how she found herself, a few weeks later, staring at a positive pregnancy test.

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

This fic is dedicated to Dolli for always encouraging my Will thoughts (and thots)

I hope you guys enjoy their journey! Lorelei will start off rough with, dealing with ED, pregnancy, her daddy issues and a Elizabeth Bennet-esque arch.

Will, for his part, will be learning to trust himself, show up for Lorelei and the baby, and dealing with Benny's spiral and parental death (fair warning, but it is the death of an abusive parent so its complex

@pimosworld @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @milkymoon2483 @poeedameronn @itspdameronthings @miraclesabound

#will miller #will miller fanfiction #william miller #william miller smut #fem!oc #william miller x oc #triple frontier #william miller fluff #william miller angst #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic

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vikkirosko · 11 months

Note

Hey! It's me again with another request for Metal Family 😅

Okay, here we go! May I have some headcanons for Dee and Heavy (separate) with a Brazilian s/o? I'm Brazilian and often there's nothing about Brazilian reader, the best ones are from Brazilian writers, but sometimes we're very stereotyped..

If you want any help, you can send me a message! I'll be glad to help ^ - ^

Many thanks to the author of the request for helping me and giving me the base for writing this request =3

Headcanons Brazilian

📚 Dee x Reader📱

Any new student in the class aroused interest, but when Dee's classmates found out that you were from Brazil, their interest in you became even greater. They surrounded you and asked a huge number of questions, which caused your embarrassment. Dee was even sorry for you. He was in no hurry to start talking to you, but when school started, you were able to get to know each other a little better thanks to the teacher who decided that you would do a school project together

Life in a new country was unusual for you, so Dee offered to help you get used to it. You walked around the city together, he showed you places that he liked himself. He found out a few things about you. For example, the fact that you spoke with a Portuguese accent, that your family moved because of your parents' work, as well as the fact that you supported the culture of your native country at home. Dee found out about this when he came to visit you. Your parents were glad that you got used to the new one and even brought a friend home

When you started dating, some classmates asked Dee what it was like. They were sure that since you were from Brazil, you were different from them in your relationship. Dee ignored his classmates' questions. It didn't matter to him whether you were from Brazil or from another country, because that wasn't the main thing about you. Your culture, music from your native country that you liked and traditional dishes were of great importance to you and he respected that, but he saw in you not only that, but also your habits, your character, he saw in you your personality

You and Dee got to know each other's cultures better and you enjoyed telling him about what life was like in Brazil. He didn't mind when you suggested he go there when you get older. In a way, it was a promise between you. A promise that gave confidence that even after a few years you will be together

🎮 Heavy x Reader 🐱

You and Heavy met on your first day at school. He was late for class and walked down the corridor, realizing that he would not have time anyway and the teacher would be unhappy. That's when you approached him. He had never seen you before, and when you spoke, he realized that you, apparently, were from another country at all. You asked him where the class you needed was. When you called the office number, Heavy smiled broadly and took you by the hand and led you along, telling you that you were in the same class, mentally rejoicing that he now had an excuse for being late

You were able to make friends quickly. He became your first friend in a new country for you and was happy to give you a tour of the city and you were happy to welcome him as a guest at home. You had a lot of things at home that you brought from Brazil and your parents cooked feijoada. Heavy had never eaten anything like this before, so he was thrilled. He was interested in communicating with you and often asked you questions about your native country, even though some of his questions made you laugh

You often spent time together and you told him different legends from your homeland. Sometimes you compared him to Curupira, and after Heavy found out from you who he was, he felt some pride that you called him that. It was as if it was your shared secret that you didn't explain to anyone, and even when your classmates tried to understand why you called him that, you didn't tell, continuing to keep the secret

You were the one who destroyed stereotypes and myths about Brazilians who knew Heavy. Sometimes it seemed to him that you were completely different, like you came out of a bright and warm movie. He liked to communicate with you, listen to your stories and learn new things about your native country. He hoped that soon he would be able to show you what you did not know about the country in which you now lived

#Metal Family #metal family headcanons #metal family x reader #Dee #Dee x Reader #Heavy #Heavy x Reader

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knifeshoeboys · 3 months

Text

Little Do You Know - F. Andersen

It’s finally done! This fic was written for the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston and is for @mp0625. It was a nice challenge to write a reader insert for the first time, I had a lot of fun creating this story and I hope you enjoy readiit just as much!

Also, everyone be warned, I didn’t look at a single calendar or any actual game scores. I just did what felt right and hoped for the best. Also, don’t think too closely about the reader’s job. I have no idea how it actually works, I just put a lot of imagination and confidence into writing it. There also is a guest appearance of Seth Jarvis.

Summary: Suddenly working for the Carolina Hurricanes wasn't how you'd thought your year would end. Everything that followed was just as surprising.

Pairing: Frederik Andersen x f!reader (no mentions of y/n)

Words: 11.9k (I’m sorry, this was planned to be like 3k words at most?? I have no idea what happend)

Warnings: a few swear words? Reader is described as shorter than Freddy, otherwise no physical descriptions. It might sound just a little angsty at the beginning, but it's really not; mostly fluff and maybe some light hurt/comfort

Jane's grin should have been enough to make you suspicious.

It was one evening, after another long shift at work and overtime that you would probably never see the pay for.

Even without looking at her, you knew the look Jane would give you. One of those pitying ones that made you a little more defensive than you should’ve been - a constant reminder that perhaps the year hadn't exactly been perfect.

But that didn't automatically mean Jane was right. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, you had once tried to tell her once. You were happy. No, really.

Sure, the breakup at the beginning of the year had been long and accompanied by a lot of shouting and tears. At the beginning you had been so sure that he was the one - only to be disappointed once again a few months later. But you could always use that as a learning experience, couldn’t you? Jane didn't know what she was talking about when she’d said that you seemed lonely sometimes. Better alone than with the wrong person, right?

And sure, the water damage to the apartment wasn't ideal either. But at least the only thing that couldn’t be saved was the kitchen. Everything else just needed time to dry and, well, maybe a new coat of paint. Two weeks later you had managed to find a new place to move into with your best friend, Jane.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong about your job being more than miserable. Seemingly endless overtime and the salary just enough to make ends meet.

Maybe Jane had a point, even though you hated to admit it.

You weren't unhappy per se. But maybe, just maybe, there was still room for improvement.

And now it was December.

Jane had gotten a telltale glint in her eyes when you both realized that. Less than four weeks left to end the year on a good note. Or maybe you should just wait for the next one and hope it’ll get better. So, with a shrug of your shoulders, you'd put the thought aside for the moment.

Her grin should’ve made you suspicious. But instead, it was already forgotten by the next morning.

–

"Jane!" Your voice was far too loud considering she was sitting barely a meter away.

"Hm?" Jane looked up from her book, confused, maybe a little worried. You weren’t paying enough attention right not to get a good read on her expression.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Even after reading the text for the third time, you wanted to pinch yourself. Hard. This had to be a strange dream.

The words blinking up at you from the screen seemed unbelievable.

"Did you- Did you submit my application with- to the- the Carolina Hurricanes?!"

Jane seemed to process your words in her head. Then understanding began to spread across her face.

Your mouth kept opening and closing, but no words came out. You didn't even know what you would have, should’ve, said. What was a normal response in this situation?

Jane straightened up a little and leaned toward you. She was looking over your shoulder at the laptop.

"Oh, they were faster than I expected."

"How... What..."

Sure, you'd complained to her just the other day that the youth team you'd applied to had suddenly realized they didn't have the budget for a full-time position after all. The interview at the equipment store on the other side of town left a lot to be desired after their first question was how much overtime you could put in per month.

But this? You’d never have expected that.

"Are you crazy?" Your voice was still unexpectedly shrill.

“It’s not a rejection letter”, she sounded a little too proud for your liking.

You squinted your eyes at her.

“Then I would’ve killed you. After burying myself out of embarrassment.”

"Oh, come on. You have to admit, it sounds perfect for you," Jane simply shrugged her shoulders. Leaning back again, she looked a lot calmer than you felt.

Nevertheless, you did have to admit that it sounded almost perfect. Often you had helped out with the equipment in small teams in the past and had always enjoyed the work. It was close to the action without being in the foreground.

But still.

"I can't believe you." You slumped back against the couch and ran your fingers through your hair. "This is crazy. You’re crazy..."

Jane sighed. "Hey, if you're not interested, don't answer." Then she turned back to her book.

She made it sound so easy.

"I didn't say that!" you defended yourself immediately.

Jane snorted, then at least a brief twitch of the corner of her mouth.

–

Your hands were shaking as you pushed open the nondescript door. It had all happened so fast.

Someone had called you the very next morning.

It was all so unbelievable that you could barely remember the phone call.

"It's a temporary position, but it needs to be filled quickly," the man on the phone had said, that much you could recall - immediately followed by the question of when you could start.

Apparently, someone had gotten sick after they were already understaffed and so they urgently needed someone to fill in.

Your experience at the small hockey center in your hometown had probably paid off after all. While growing up you had helped the coach, who trained the children’s hobby group, with the equipment.

In return, he always gave you old skates and sticks that were once forgotten by someone and never got picked up so you could try them out during your own team’s training.

Maybe they also decided on you because they just didn’t have many applicants with previous experience of any level available at such short notice. But who knew. And really, you didn’t really care either way.

Especially as just a few hours after the call you were now following hurriedly written down directions through the corridors of the arena that you had previously only seen as a visitor.

Anthony, whose first words had been "Call me Tony", had been awaiting you already. His tour of the most important rooms was not only packed with way too much information but also constantly interrupted by other people’s questions and demands.

Nevertheless, Tony remained friendly and patient with them as well as you, even when you had forgotten which direction you had come from for the third time in a row. Once or twice, he might even have stifled an amused grin.

"Let me just show you the storage rooms and then..."

"Anthony," an older man interrupted from the side. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a grim expression on his face.

An official-looking ID was hanging around his neck.

Tony grimaced at the use of his full name.

"What is it now?" he asked, barely able to hide his annoyed voice under a wavering polite smile. It was the first time you'd seen Tony anything other than friendly today. It was almost weird.

The man didn't really look at Tony, but rather past him, even though the words were clearly directed at Tony. "The sticks are all mixed up." The accusatory tone in his voice was clear, as if Tony had personally caused the mess.

"We don't know what belongs to whom."

Tony sighed. "Of course, you don't", he muttered so quietly that only you could hear the words. However, the other man would have been able to see the hint of an eye roll hadn’t he turned away again, apparently to grumble at the next person.

"Don't let Mike intimidate you," Tony explained, turning back to you, "in case he ever snaps at you. He likes to feel more important than he is." He rolled his eyes with a wry grin.

Someone hesitantly tapped Tony’s shoulder. This time a young man, who looked like he'd just graduated high school.

"Sorry, I know you're busy - I don't mean to interrupt - but, uh, a strap on a goalie pad broke."

Anthony ran a hand over his forehead. "Another one? Shit." He exhaled noisily. "That's the third one in two days. It has to be a production error. Has the manufacturer responded to the complaint yet?"

The boy's eyes widened, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Mike called impatiently for Anthony from the next room. Torn, he turned briefly at the voice, then looked back at the boy next to him. "They probably need the goalies for training right now?"

The boy nodded shyly: "They said it was urgent."

Anthony sighed again.

Then he looked at you with a wry grin: "Looks like you'll get something to do sooner than expected."

He got handed a paper from someone walking past him. While searching for something on it he continued talking.

"We only have a few pads left in stock. The new order hasn't arrived yet and we need the ones we still have for the game tonight. Do you know how to sew?" He looked up.

"A little?" Your grandparents had taught you a long time ago, but it wasn't something you had to do regularly in your daily life.

"Great, that should be enough for now. It doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it does the job."

Anthony patted you on the back approvingly. Then he left you standing alone in the hallway, his exit accompanied by another long "Anthony" yell.

You were left standing there. Uncertainly you looked at the young man next to you.

He shrugged his shoulders just as unsure. He murmured quietly: "In that room over there." With a finger, he pointed at a door.

Well, then you should probably get to work. 'That room over there' really wasn't hard to find. It was only a few meters away.

What you didn't expect, however, was to almost walk into a huge man as soon as you entered the room. You always knew that hockey players tended to be quite tall, but it still took you by surprise.

You had to tilt your head back to look the man in the face. Of course, having lived here long enough you knew all the players on the team, at least by name. You weren't some crazy fan but at least invested enough to watch the games whenever you had the time. For your last birthday you had even gotten tickets to watch one live in the arena. It had been great.

Now you were faced with a certain goalie. Stubborn ginger strands fell into his face, his cheeks slightly flushed from training or the cold. Television did not do him justice at all.

Stay professional, you had to order yourself. This was your job. You couldn't mess it up, especially not on the first day.

Frederik looked up. He ran his eyes over your form for a moment. Then he tilted his head. "You're not Tony," his voice sounded unexpectedly soft.

"Oh, uh, no. I'm new here. First day today." Wow, very smooth. Good job.

If Freddie thought the same, he didn't let on. Quite the opposite. He openly watched you, his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "Well, in that case. Welcome."

You mumbled a "Thank you."

A brief silence filled the room. While you reminded yourself to get yourself under control, you could still feel his appraising gaze on you - not hostile, just curious.

"How do you like it so far?" You could see little lines forming around his eyes as he smiled at you.

"I mean, a map would be helpful. All these corridors are like a labyrinth," you tried to joke.

Freddie laughed. "Oh yeah. You don't want to know how many times I got lost in here at first."

Maybe he was just saying that to make you feel better. However, you decide not to question it and just let the words calm you down a little.

"Are you almost done?" a woman poked her head into the room. Her stern features were emphasized by her narrow glasses. She reminded you of a strict principal scowling at running students.

You were almost certain you'd seen her in the corridors earlier today. Maybe Tony had told you her name and position, but if so, you'd already forgotten again. For the first dozen names you had made an honest effort to memorize them. The numerous ones following after that were buried in the sea of information that had poured in on you in a very short space of time.

"Oh yes, almost done," you grinned at the woman as convincingly as possible.

With a skeptical look, she let her eyes wander back and forth between Freddie, you and finally the pad, still hanging down loosely on his leg.

"Hurry up”, she ordered. You nodded dutifully.

When she had disappeared again, you breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes had literally bored right through you and left you feeling a little uncomfortable. Freddie had squirmed under her eyes just as much.

You didn’t want to risk her turning up here again.

"I think I'll go and get some stuff. To fix that."

Freddie nodded patiently.

Huh.

Well. There was just one problem.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they store needles around here, would you?"

Again, the corners of his mouth pulled to the side in amusement. "Aren't you the one working here?" He was obviously just teasing you, but your cheeks immediately felt a little warmer, nevertheless.

"Right."

In the end, Freddie did help by searching through the drawers in the small cupboard behind him while you examined the rest of the room.

Once needle and thread were found, the work was done quickly. The strap was tight again. It should hold on for the next few hours at least. The stern-looking woman had walked past the room a few more times – more than necessary in your opinion – as you had noticed out of the corner of your eye. However, she had not re-entered the room.

Freddie and you had had some simple conversations on the side so the work had gone by quickly. He had asked your name and where you came from.

All in all, your first job could have gone a lot worse. You were almost a little proud of yourself.

Maybe this was all quite doable after all.

It was terrible.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd walked so much, feeling your feet ache with every more step you took. By the time just half of your shift had been over, your legs were already heavy.

Once the game had started, the processes seemed a lot more structured.

The rather hectic running around of the afternoon was replaced by a lot of counting and carrying things from one place to another.

With all the work, you almost missed the end of the game completely.

However, the disappointment was hard to miss. It put deep creases in everyone’s faces; reflected in the way shoulders slumped and voices were muffled.

Losing again after a long winning streak probably always hit everyone hard.

Tony and you got handed the equipment to be washed and dried.

At least one thing hadn't changed though. All sorts of people still wanted something from Tony. He had mumbled to you "I'll be back in a moment", only to definitely not come back after a moment.

Afraid of getting lost for good, you decided to wait here for him anyway.

Everyone around you seemed to have clear tasks that they were silently following. It was almost strange to see the corridors so quiet, in contrast to a few hours earlier.

No matter where you stood, you had the feeling that you were interfering with the routines of other workers and so you gradually ended up further and further to the end of the narrow hallway. Not knowing exactly where you were was nothing new today. However, this time you were pretty sure this corner hadn’t been in Tony’s tour.

One by one, players came around a corner. They walked past you individually or in small groups. Very few of them probably really noticed you. Their mood was also noticeably subdued.

You weren't entirely sure whether you were happy to see Freddie again as he slowly stepped around the corner, or whether you would’ve preferred not to see the disappointed look on his face.

You gave him what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

For a brief moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, a hint of a crooked grin as he had almost passed you, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again.

He exhaled forcefully. The heaviness in his eyes returned.

With a long breath, you watched his slowly shrinking figure.

No longer could you stand being in the hallway. You had seen enough disappointed faces for one day. A door caught your eye. It was held open by a chair jammed into the doorway. The cool light falling through the opening was brighter than the ceiling lights.

You dared to take one last look over your shoulder, Freddie had already disappeared from your view. And there was still no sign of Tony. So, you crossed the corridor with slow steps.

The door led directly to the spectator stands. It had apparently been opened after everyone had left the arena.

You let yourself fall against the door frame.

After a quick glance over the seating area, your gaze fell onto the ice surface. Your heart ached in your chest. Before, you hadn't realized how much you missed being on the ice yourself - or you had successfully pushed it to the back of your mind. Only now, when you were so close to it, did the longing come back to you in full force.

"Do you have skates?" The voice so close to your ear made you jump. Lost deep in thought you hadn’t noticed when Tony had appeared next to you.

"What?"

"Do you have skates," he repeated more slowly, "I have to be honest. I'd be a bit disappointed if I had to find out like this that you don't own any." He flashed an amused grin at you.

You frowned. "Yes, of course. I mean, I have relatives in Canada. They'd probably disown me if I didn't."

"Then what's stopping you from taking a few laps on the ice?"

He shrugged as if it were that simple. It couldn't be that simple.

"What? But no, I can't do that..." You found it difficult to find the right words. You didn't even know what you were trying to say yourself.

"The way you look at the ice longingly, it'll melt away otherwise," Tony teased.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "No, but really. Is that allowed?"

"Yep," Tony pointed over his shoulder. "Back there on the list are the times when the ice is free. As long as you don't mind the ice not being fresh, of course."

You could hardly believe what Tony was telling you. There was actually a possibility that you could skate on the ice? It’d been so long since you had skates on your feet. It’s been even longer since you’d last held a hockey stick.

When you thought about what it would be like to practice again after so long, a yearning overcame you.

"Nobody else usually uses it on Mondays and Wednesdays." Tony gave you a significant look.

The ice had obviously been heavily used. It couldn't have bothered you less.

The first step on the ice was shakier than you expected. And it still felt so relieving. Like rediscovering one of your favorite childhood sweets years later. Or finding change in your pockets that you’d already forgotten about.

Your face beamed with joy, becoming more relaxed with every step. After two laps around the arena, it felt as familiar as before. Your chest rose and fell at a fast pace.

Even after another ten minutes, you were still alone on the ice. When Tony had said no one else usually used the free ice time on Mondays, he hadn't been exaggerating.

You were still a little unsure before, but now you took the stick you had brought with you and a few pucks that were still in a bucket on the side from the last training session.

The last time you’d played hockey was even longer ago than the last time you’d skated. So, it wasn't surprising that you missed the net a lot the first few tries. The times you did hit the goal, however, felt all the better.

The skillful shots from your youth, when you still had time to go to training regularly, no longer worked nearly as well. In the past, you could’ve done them blindfolded.

Adult responsibilities however got in the way at some point, so you were glad that you were still able to attend a hobby group at least once a month until last year. And it paid off. After a short time, the stick no longer felt so strange in your hand. Maybe Hockey was a bit like riding a bike. You would never quite forget how to do it.

You almost missed the other person coming onto the ice.

Even without his number on his back, you could’ve identified him without a doubt. To be fair, there probably weren't that many people walking around in professional goalie gear. Especially those with access to the ice and a Canes logo on their chest.

Without a doubt: Frederik Andersen had just stepped onto the ice. The exact ice you were standing on.

Uncertain you looked back and forth between the exit and him. You were sure you hadn't misread the time on the list. The clock on the wall also told you that you hadn't just been here much longer than you thought.

Still, should you leave the ice? If he was here, he probably wanted to practice. You'd just get in the way.

After the game on your first day on the job, the Canes lost two more games. And as always happens, critical voices immediately got loud on the internet. Even if you hadn't looked any further, you could imagine what they said about Freddie – hopefully, he followed the media team's advice not to read any of it.

Freddie looked at you for a moment. Then he crossed the ice. However, instead of heading for the other half of the ice as you’d have expected, his path led straight into the net on your side.

Fascinated, you watched as he stretched and moved in quick order. Finally, he straightened up again, leaned forward and tapped the ice several times with his stick.

You looked at him in confusion. But when he then flicked a puck across the rink towards you with his stick, it was a more than clear invitation.

In this moment you were so glad to have had some time to warm up before he arrived.

Your first shots at the net were careful. And apparently, they were way too predictable and easy for Freddie, as he blocked each of them with ease. He didn't even look strained in the slightest.

You took it as a challenge.

The next shots were more confident. You even started to skate a few steps towards the net on each of them, instead of standing rigidly in the middle of the ice.

However, after a lost puck on the way to the net elicited a playfully disappointed shake of the head from Freddie, you made it your mission to mix in a particularly bad shot every few tries. Freddie’s reaction made it more than worth it.

If you looked very closely, you imagined you could even see the smirk under his mask every time.

In the end, you didn't know how long you’d played for.

When Freddie pushed his mask up, a few strands of hair were sticking to his forehead. His features were more relaxed than any of the last times you'd seen him here. It looked good on him.

As you went your separate ways again, he gently nudged you with his shoulder. The smile lingered on your lips for a long time.

–

"Do you think the small suitcase will be enough for three days?"

Jane looked at you over her shoulder. "Are you going on a trip? Without me?" She clutched her chest dramatically.

"There are a few away games coming up. And I'm supposed to come with them”, you explained. Your nerves must be written all over your face.

"Not that I think I'm really going to be that much help.", you added.

You had only just started to feel like you were slowly getting used to the work in the arena. By now, you could count on one hand how many times you got lost in the seemingly never-ending hallways of the arena in a shift. Even all the tasks no longer appeared as overwhelming as they did at the beginning.

Still, it had taken you days to even come close to finding your way around the arena. Even now, you kept discovering new rooms that you had never seen before.

Now, arriving in a completely foreign arena? You'd never seen how away games were run behind the scenes. And now you were supposed to help out yourself. Over the last days carefully established routines to make work easier would have to be broken again.

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot that you're super important now," she teased.

As if. "Hardly. More like the assistant to the assistant."

As you turned back to your bedroom, Jane called after you: "I’m sure it won't be as bad as you think."

Packing took longer than expected. This was probably partly due to the fact that you kept placing stuff in your suitcase just to take it out again minutes later. Should you pack a fifth sweater after all? Would one spare pair of pants be enough or maybe take the black ones with you as well?

By the time you had loaded your bags into your car, you were on the verge of being late. Enough time for you to arrive on time, not enough to get stuck in traffic or spend ages looking for a parking space.

However, you didn’t even get that far.

Your car made a tired stuttering noise before it fell silent again. The same sound was heard on the second attempt. By the third turn of the key, your fingers were already getting clammy.

"Damn it. That can't be true now." Try again. This time the engine only made a muffled scraping sound. "No, no, no!"

You dropped your head against the steering wheel. Frustration rose up inside you.

Another sharp turn. Your hand clutched the armrest. You preferred not to look too closely at the speed limit. Jane ignored your pointed glances toward her anyway - and today, at least, you were almost glad of her habit of speeding.

The bags on the back seat were a heavy reminder in the corner of your eye.

You almost felt like you were back in your teenage years, being driven around by your parents and older friends. Then the airport finally came into view.

Jane parked and let you out. A car honked behind you. Quickly you thanked her and got out of the car.

You didn't know how, but you were still on time.

–

After the flight, it was a blessing to arrive at the hotel room.

The room was small, had a strange orange wall color and a dubious stain on the floor that you strictly avoided stepping on. But at least you had the room to yourself. Reason enough to breathe a sigh of relief.

In the evening, you fell into bed early, exhausted from the day. Sending a photo of your room to Jane would have to wait until tomorrow.

The next morning, you were awake long before your alarm clock. You didn't know who exactly was in the room next to you, but whoever it was had started snoring loudly at some point.

Even after a while, you couldn't fall back asleep. You were slow to pull yourself out of the warmth of your bed, but happy to escape the constant noise. So, you got ready for the day.

When you arrived in the breakfast room with a sectioned-off area for the team and players, the buffet had only just been opened. Apart from you, there was only one other person here so far, who ignored you as politely as you ignored them.

Most people would probably eat later. The game wasn't until late afternoon, so there was no rush to prepare, and morning skate wasn't scheduled for a few hours, as you’d heard.

With a full plate, you sat down at one of the many empty tables. While you ate, you checked your messages.

Jane had texted you last night to tell you that she’d taken your car to the mechanic. Already, they had sent you an email with a list of what needed to be repaired. Your hope that it would only be just a minor repair instantly vanished as you saw the length of the list.

You gulped a second time at the amount at the bottom of the mail.

Shit. That would easily consume an entire month's salary. You dropped your forehead to your hands.

"Does breakfast in general make you unhappy or is it this one in particular?" The chair next to you was pulled back. A certain ginger goalie fell into the seat.

You couldn't suppress a faint snort.

"I wouldn't count my car as breakfast," you tried to joke. Just the thought of your car made you grimace again.

"Oh," his brow furrowed gently. "That doesn't sound good?"

"Yeah. I mean, it has made a weird noise for a while now, should’ve known something like this would happen eventually. I just hoped to have a little more time before having to get it repaired."

Groaning you let your head fall into your hands again. Freddie shook his head, an amused glint in his eyes.

Then he seemed to have another thought.

“Wait, so how did you get to the airport?”

“Oh, I had someone drive me.” You turned your head to look at him.

“Boyfriend?" Maybe it was just hopeful wishing, the way Freddie's eyebrows drew down a touch further. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business.”

"My roommate, Jane." After short consideration, you also added: “Don’t think my ex would’ve even bothered to drive me.” You couldn't see Freddie’s face at that moment as your eyes were drawn to a new incoming message. Just Jane complaining about the weather.

“That sounds like there’s a story.”

You snorted. “Not a good one.”

Freddie seemed to get the drift. He did however furrow his brows slightly and asked slowly: "Wait, how are you getting home then?"

You could almost have sworn that Freddie was sitting closer than at the beginning.

To be honest, you hadn't really thought about it yourself. "Probably an Uber or...?" you mumbled but didn't finish the thought.

Someone from the marketing team - Angela? Angelica? Angeline? - sat down on a chair opposite you.

The conversation was paused for now. Instead, the blonde woman chattered away happily as you just nodded at the appropriate times.

You hadn't noticed when the room had started to become so crowded.

–

When they’d said: "I have an exciting task for you today", you hadn't thought that cleaning helmets would be a big part of it.

Being allowed to take on more tasks on your own was wonderful. And you were grateful.

There were various parts on a few of the helmets that needed to be replaced or checked. By itself a nice and relaxing work. However, having to polish helmets had always been very low on your list of favorite activities. And today you had to clean every single one after the repairs.

One by one, some players arrived to collect their helmets for training themselves. Others were picked up and taken away by staff on their way past. By the time the last helmet was shiningly clean, there were only three left on the table next to you, waiting to be picked up.

And, well, one of them was a beautifully painted goalie mask of a very specific goalie.

Another player came to collect his helmet. You immediately suppressed the disappointment that welled up in your stomach when you realized who was coming through the door. Or rather, the disappointment at who it wasn't.

He was friendly, exchanged a few brief words with you and finally thanked you before disappearing again.

And then, Freddie came into the room. You almost missed it over your struggle of trying to get a new rag from the top shelf.

“Let me help you”, the deep voice from behind surprised you.

He probably could’ve stepped around you and still reached the pile of rags easily enough. However, Freddie appeared behind you, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat coming from his body.

Even after grabbing the desired item, he didn’t step back a whole lot, stayed close. If you would’ve wanted to you could’ve taken a step to the side. There was more than enough space and even if there wasn’t you knew Freddie would’ve moved immediately and apologized if you’d asked. But you didn’t.

You stayed exactly where you were.

The air between you felt almost charged. You wanted to see what Freddie’d do. You didn’t get the chance to.

The moment was over as quickly as it had come when the door was pushed open. You both jumped.

Until now you’d only seen Seth Jarvis occasionally from a distance in the hallways. Apart from that, you haven't had much to do with him yet.

The first thing you noticed about him today was that he was already holding his helmet in his hands. It was hanging over two fingers as if he had forgotten he even had it. You dimly remembered giving it to one of the employees not long ago.

You looked down at him once with furrowed brows. The rest of his equipment looked complete too and in working order.

Freddie huffed.

Seth's gaze flitted back and forth between him and you. A far too pleased grin began to grow on his face.

For a few seconds, his gaze stayed wandering between you two.

Finally, you broke the silence when it didn’t seem as if he intended to say anything.

"Is there… A problem with your helmet?"

Seth blinked at you. Then he followed your gaze down to his hands.

He shook his head, almost confused by your question. "No, everything's fine."

Okay? Then he probably hadn’t returned for that.

"Then... Anything else I can help you with?" you continued to ask.

He looked down at himself once more and seemed to think for a moment. Freddie started to speak, a meaningful glint in his eyes: "I'm sure it isn't-"

Somehow that just made Seth’s mischievous grin reappear.

He interrupted Freddie: "Hm, I don't know," he thought slowly, "My shin pad has been kind of weird these last few days and…"

Freddie scowled at him. But Seth didn't let it bother him at all. On the contrary, his grin widened a little more.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. There seemed to be some kind of silent communication between the two.

Finally, Seth concluded: "But it's not really that bad.”

So, you were back to square one.

"Then, anything else I can help you with?"

Seth’s answer came too quickly: "I guess I forgot why I came here. Can’t have been that important."

Turning around, however, took him longer than it should have, and you were pretty sure he did it on purpose. At the door, he threw another grinning look back.

Finally, you two were alone again.

You continued blinking at the door. What was that?

"I should probably see what he's up to," Freddie sighed but offered no other explanation. Nevertheless, he made no effort to leave.

Instead, almost absentmindedly he traced an invisible line in the table.

It took you a moment to notice - he lingered.

You didn't know what to do with the realization. Staring at Freddie the whole time only made you feel stranger. Whatever this conversation just was already left you almost dazed, so you picked up the last remaining helmet beside Freddie’s mask again.

You already knew it was spotless. Not for nothing had you spent so much time cleaning it earlier.

Just to have something to do, you picked up another cloth and set to work again.

Freddie watched you silently. There was something comfortable, almost familiar about sharing the silence.

When the last helmet was finally picked up by another employee, it was the signal for Freddie to leave.

You handed him his mask as well. Your fingers touched too long to be just a coincidence. It made your heart beat loudly in your chest.

For a moment you hesitated. Then you raised an arm briefly to his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. "Good luck!"

Before you had a chance to regret your decision, you went back to your work.

–

The high spirits of some of the players you spotted hours later in the hallways told you how the game had turned out, even though you’d been too busy to watch.

You didn't think Freddie would send you more than a quick smile as he walked down the corridor. Two others caught up with him. One of them, easily recognized as Seth Jarvis, and one of the rookies. Seth said something to Freddie, then pushed him to the side straight at you, laughing with one hand behind his back.

With a slight color in his cheeks, no doubt still from the game, he took a few steps towards you. Smiling, he raised an arm. He waited a moment, as if offering you a way out. Instead, you gladly took a small step in his direction.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders. You were pressed firmly against Freddie, who murmured a quiet thank you against your hair. Then, he let go of you all too quickly.

What exactly he was thanking you for you didn’t know. You also didn’t get the chance to ask.

As they passed you, the other two players behind Freddie greeted you cheerfully. You didn't even know other players knew your name. Seth looked almost as amused as earlier today.

–

By the last day of the road trip, you could no longer stand being in your room. Something about the specific shade of the wall color made your skin itch if you looked at it for too long.

It was unexpected how much you missed home. Even after just those few days in hotel rooms.

Maybe it was having to live out of a suitcase because it wasn't worth putting your things in the closet when you might be traveling to the next city that same night or the next morning. Or maybe it was the way you were constantly surrounded by the general working atmosphere.

You couldn't put your finger on it. What you could say, however, was that you couldn't wait to get home.

Just one last game.

After dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to go back to your room. Instead, you explored the common room reserved for the team and staff.

Through the window, you could see some players playing with a ball in the backyard below. At a table in the corner, various people were playing a card game you had never heard of.

In a quiet area, you settled down with a book.

Everything was ideal for reading. It was quiet enough; the sofa was comfortable and you were wearing one of your coziest sweaters.

Still, you couldn’t concentrate on your book. Your thoughts wouldn’t calm down, leaving you feeling restless. Every few minutes you shifted in your seat.

You would have liked to fast-forward the day so that it would finally be evening, and you could go home. If it was up to you, you would have already been on a plane.

Every time someone walked past or entered the room, you unconsciously raised your eyes. And every time, you were annoyed that you had lost the line in your book again. Not that you could remember much of the story anyway. Your attention wasn't quite there.

However, it also meant you noticed when Freddie entered the room.

He stopped several times to talk to people. When he was only a few steps away from the sofas, he looked back and forth between them.

Before you could think about it too long, you slid a little to the side, as if an invitation. There was more than enough space next to you for him to sit down without you touching. However, you left the final decision to him.

You didn't have to wait long. Freddie plopped down on the couch - just a touch closer than usual, but still far enough away that you almost questioned if you were just imagining it. Not that you were complaining.

He opened the book he'd been holding under his arm.

Not exactly subtle, he kept watching you out of the corner of his eye. As soon as you lifted your head, however, he immediately averted his gaze.

Actually, you didn't want to ask. You weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer. What if it was a problem just you had. But still.

After another moment of thought you blurted: "Do you ever get tired of away games?"

"Huh?" He looked up, apparently not having anticipated such a question.

Well, there was no turning back now anyway.

"Like, traveling around all the time, being away from home so much?" you tried to explain.

His answer came easily. "Oh, absolutely. I used to hate it so much. Now it’s not as bad anymore. I mean, some days I would still be rather at but, ehn." He shrugged his shoulders.

Only after a moment did you ask further, having the feeling he wasn't going to add anything more.

"Used to? What changed?"

"Mainly the team. Getting to know the people you spend the days with has been incredibly helpful. It feels less like a business trip and more like… Like a school trip when you were younger." For a moment he got a far-away look in his eyes as if lost in thought.

Your gaze glided across the room. ‘Business trip’ summed up pretty well how it felt to you. Even though you've had superficial conversations with a lot of people, you probably didn't know any of them nearly well enough to put them anywhere near the friends category.

But of course, you’d also noticed how many of the others were always planning activities in groups or just talking and joking over the meals.

You exhaled briefly.

Freddie watched you for a moment. He tilted his head, then continued slowly. His words seemed measured: “You know, the first road trip after my trade here was particularly hard."

You hadn't even thought about that. Your stomach tightened at the thought of how Freddie must have felt.

"Of course, at most everything is the same, but it still feels so- so unfamiliar. You don't know who's sitting next to whom on the plane. You don't know who's a good roommate and who might snore loudly or leave their things everywhere. And all these little rituals and changes that might not even exist at home games."

"But it got better?" You looked at the hands in your lap.

"It really does. The first few times the unfamiliarity, it's so exhausting. But with each more trip, it becomes more and more of a habit."

After a beat of silence, Freddie added slowly: "I don't want to lie to you. Sometimes I'd still rather stay at home. Home games are definitely more enjoyable, as far as that goes. But they're exceptions, just like everyone has bad days."

Encouragingly, he gently pressed his shoulder against yours. The brief touch turned into a long moment, somehow your whole sides touching. Your arm rested against his, your legs just a few inches away.

After a few moments, when he still hadn't slipped away again, you let yourself relax against him. Gradually you could feel Freddie’s muscles losing their tension as well.

"What about Denmark? Do you ever miss being there?" you asked into the silence between you. Freddie looked out of the window.

"When I was younger, I missed it a lot more than I do now. I haven't lived there for so long now that I hardly know any different."

Your eyebrows drew together. You didn't know whether the statement reassured you or whether it made you want to give Freddie a long hug. Somehow it sounded so sad.

"I can still visit it regularly. And it's not as if my family would ever let me forget the language." He pointed to the book next to him.

You hadn't looked at it closely before. But now you noticed that the title consisted of large - obviously Danish - words.

"Just sometimes..." he shrugged his shoulders unsure. Then he picked up his book again with a sigh.

This effectively ended the conversation. You wanted to ask more, but the far-away look in Freddie’s eyes stopped you. Now you felt bad. Making Freddie sad hadn’t been your intention.

As if he could read your mind, he knocked his elbow against yours gently. You took a deep breath. Returning the gesture, you began reading again as well.

While your earlier worries had calmed down for the time being, now, with every breath you took, you were made aware of how close you and Freddie were sitting to each other.

You didn't want to have to get up again.

–

The flight home was uneventful. A general tiredness hung over everyone.

You yawned again as you finally stepped outside into the cool night air.

The tiredness made you inattentive and you flinched when someone unexpectedly appeared next to you.

By now you didn't even need to look at him to recognize Freddie. Just his stature and the hint of ginger hair were enough.

He casually reached for your bag and took it from your hand.

Baffled, you almost stumbled over your feet, looking up at him.

"That's my bag."

"Yep," he said with a grin. He had slowed down to give you a chance to catch up. "At least I hope it’s yours and not some random one you just took."

You rolled your eyes. “Then what are you doing with it? Now that we've established that it is my bag."

"I'm giving you a ride." He stated casually, then started walking again.

If you hadn't been so exhausted, you would have at least tried to protest out of politeness.

Nevertheless, you couldn't help but at least tease tiredly: "Maybe I've got another ride by now."

"Is that why you have the Uber app open?"

You looked down at the phone in your hands. Huh, you couldn't say anything against that.

Freddie became serious for a moment. "Hey, if you really don't want to, I'm happy to just wait here with you until your Uber arrives. But the offer stands."

"You really don't have to," spoke the good manners out of you. Your parents would have been proud. Even to your ears, however, it sounded very half-hearted.

Freddie stopped. You almost ran into him. Since you managed to stop just in time, you were now standing right in front of each other instead. If you had leaned forward just a little, you would have been touching.

For a long moment, Freddie held your gaze. "I know I don't have to. But I want to." The sincerity in his words made you swallow. For a few seconds, you stood in front of each other, looking at each other. You could have sworn Freddie's eyes flickered down your face for a moment.

But then he just cleared his throat and started walking again. You ignored the small spark of disappointment in your stomach.

You were sure that Freddie purposely made himself taller as he looked down at you and joked: "And no offense to you, but you're really not big enough to be threatening."

"Hey! I can be scary if I want to be."

"Uh-uh. Whatever you say."

You stuck your tongue out at him, even if he couldn't see it, as he opened the trunk.

For some reason, you had expected the car ride with Freddie to be awkward. Instead, comfortable silence spread between you. After you had told him your address, he navigated the car slowly through the dark streets.

You watched the streetlights pass by the windshield for a while.

"So, do you give all the poor stranded newbies a ride?" It could be taken as a simple joke. You tried to keep your voice carefully neutral. Still, the mood in the car shifted. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather more serious than before. It felt important.

"Would you believe me if I said I was just being helpful?" Freddie didn't even sound like he believed the reason himself. It wasn't a straight answer, but it wasn't an immediate deflection either. You could just accept this as the answer and move on, just, you didn’t want that anymore.

"Normally? Yes. But when you say it like that? Not really”, you still kept the tone light.

"Yeah... My sister is the only one in our family who is a good liar. As a teenager, I always envied her for that. She could outsmart our mother every time."

A small smile graced your lips at the story. You could literally see it in front of you, a young Freddie stammering as he tried to come up with a story about why he was home late.

Freddie parked the car in front of your house. He continued to look straight ahead. In the dim light, you couldn’t be sure, but you could have sworn his ears were turning red.

"I mean, it really wasn't a big deal. And you're not the worst company either."

"Such a high compliment," you grinned, "Not the worst company."

Maybe his cheeks had gained a little color too.

"But really, thank you, for the ride. It probably wasn’t on your way."

"It was nothing, really. And maybe it was also a little selfish." He said it into the quiet of the night as if it were a precious secret. He turned his head towards you and looked straight at you. There was warmth in his gaze, perhaps a spark of hope.

"I like- I like spending time with you."

You couldn't help but smile at the words. Freddie smiled back.

Very slowly, one of his hands moved towards your face, as if he was giving you time to object. You immediately leaned into the touch as he cupped your cheek.

He stroked the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. One of your hands rested on his forearm.

"Good thing I like spending time with you too," you whispered softly.

Afterward, you couldn't remember who moved first. Freddie's face came closer towards yours. Your free hand buried itself in his shirt, the other one letting go to run through his hair.

As soon as your lips met, time seemed to stand still for a moment. You forgot all your previous thoughts. The only thing existing was the feeling of his lips pressing gently against yours.

Soon, the sweet kiss turned deeper. The angle wasn’t great, but you made it work.

When you finally broke away from each other, you didn’t move far. Your forehead rested against his, you could feel his breath against your lips.

A small giggle escaped you. Your eyes met. It made Freddie’s smile widen, before his hand slid into your neck to pull your lips to his once again.

–

It was pure coincidence that you had packed your skates.

After a morning of unpacking deliveries and doing inventory, you were ready to just go home and curl up on your couch. Only Sarah, with whom you had shared the work, had made it more bearable. Before, you had only known her by sight. Now you couldn't remember the last time you had made friends with a colleague so fast.

She was also the first who saw the note on your locker. With a raised eyebrow, she watched as you read it. Your expression had apparently told her enough because she didn't question your decision to stay in the arena and instead said goodbye with a wink.

The note was pretty inconspicuous.

'Meet me on the ice?’

It was the thought of who the message was probably from that made your heart skip a beat.

When you stepped onto the ice this time, Freddie was already skating slow circles across the rink. You were delighted to realize that you could be faster than him in full gear and after several hours of training.

It was a moment of being inattentive – and maybe also you getting tired after a few laps – that he took advantage of. With a gentle push, cushioned on all sides by his pads, he pushed you against the glass.

With your back against the glass and his arms on either side of you, you stopped.

"Hi." You grinned up into his face. Through the mask, he grinned back just as widely.

"Hi."

"What a coincidence to see you here."

"What, were you expecting someone else, skat?" The way Freddie emphasized the last word told you he knew exactly what that would do to you. Your heart melted.

"Writing notes. Pet names. Is this becoming some high school romance novel?"

"I don't even know what you mean, elskling." You could hear the amusement in his voice. Before you had a chance to answer, Freddie had already pushed himself away.

He positioned himself in the net and leaned down. It didn't take you that long to get used to shooting again.

–

With your skates in hand and a pleasant exhaustion making your legs heavy, all you wanted to do was grab your stuff and finally head back to your apartment.

As you turned the corner, you almost ran into someone. You only just managed to stop in time.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you to still be here. Didn’t you finish several hours ago?" Tony looked down at you. In one arm he carried a pile of sticks, in the other a large folder overflowing with notes.

"But, oh wait, it's actually good that you're here."

The next words made your heart stop for a moment.

"I just need to talk to you for a minute."

When had that sentence ever been followed by something good?

You couldn't say for sure how long Tony had been standing here. Maybe he had just seen you with Freddie. Before that, you hadn't even thought about whether that was allowed. What if both you and Freddie got into trouble for it?

Or even worse. What if he found out about you and Freddie off the ice? You had only briefly skimmed the contract when you’d signed. You had been far too fascinated by this world, which was secret to every normal fan, to care about that stuff. Not that you’d even expected something like this to happen.

Now you were desperately trying to remember if there was a paragraph about whether relationships with players were allowed at all.

"I won't keep you long," Tony finally snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Brynn - that was the one who was ill. You were his replacement, I don't know if you ever heard his name." You couldn't remember it, but you'd been told so much in the first few days that you could very well have just forgotten it again.

"Anyway. Brynn will be back tomorrow," Tony's face stiffened, "So technically, we don't need any extra help anymore."

"Oh." Of all the fears that had been running through your mind, that hadn't been a scenario you’d considered. You had known from the start that it would only be a short-term job. But you’d have never expected it to be this short.

Tony smiled somberly. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think it would be so quick."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's great for Brynn." You weren’t lying. Obviously, it was good to hear, that he was healthy again. But at the same time, knowing you’d lose your job made your heart ache. Even in the short time, you’d grown to love it.

"Yeah," Tony nodded a little absently. He looked conflicted. "Okay, so. Technically I'm not supposed to say anything yet, but... my boss is retiring in the next few weeks. His replacement should be decided by the end of the week. We've had a few conversations and let's just say... I feel like I've got a pretty good chance of getting the role."

"That's really great for you?" you said slowly. Not that you weren't happy for Tony, but your enthusiasm was limited after you'd practically been fired just a minute before.

"That means there's a job opening to be filled." He looked at you meaningfully.

It took you a moment to finally understand. "Oooh."

"Yeah," he nodded, now with a hint of a grin on his lips. "I could put in a good word."

"Really?"

Tony nodded. You had to suppress a loud cheer.

–

It was a strange feeling. Last away games you’d wished so desperately to be home again. This time you wished you could join. Having to sit at home and having to say goodbye to Freddie sounded almost worse.

"I'm going to miss you for the next few days."

Freddie came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you let yourself fall against him.

He looked at you questioningly over your shoulder. "You're not coming?"

Then it seemed to come back to him too. "Oh, right."

It had taken you almost two days to tell him about the conversation with Tony. You were unsure how to. Plus, an annoying voice in the back of your head that would convince you that Freddie wouldn't care at all.

In the end, you blurted it out one afternoon. In your head, you stuck your tongue out at the nasty voice when Freddie immediately took you in his arms and asked how you were doing.

Even now, he gave you another apologetic hug.

Only one more day until the day Tony would hopefully call.

The timer beeped. Sighing you peeled yourself from Freddie to take the tray out of the oven.

You sat it down on the counter next to the first, a lot less successful attempt.

You had wanted to do something nice for Freddie, had read up on Danish pastries the day before and after long contemplation finally saved a recipe on your phone. You didn’t know how to pronounce Brunsviger properly, but the pictures had looked great and the recipe seemed easy enough.

You still didn't know exactly where things had gone wrong. Although you had assured Freddie that he really didn't have to – and really, shouldn’t – he had tried a forkful of it anyway. As expected, it wasn’t good. Still, there was a traitorous wetness in his eyes and a long hug.

For the second attempt, Freddie hadn't left your side and guided you through it.

You left some on the counter for Jane. A silent apology for the last time you’d had Freddie over. You might have forgotten to tell her beforehand.

Or maybe, tell her about this at all. There just hadn’t been a good opportunity, especially also constantly having to think about your job.

On this day of all days Jane had come home a lot earlier than you anticipated. For a few seconds, she’d just blinked at you two sitting on the couch, you with your legs in Freddie’s lap.

Then, with a tight voice, she had asked: “Do you have a moment.” Her head nodding to the kitchen.

It had made you feel a little guilty how shocked she looked. Her first words being: “Is that Frederik Andersen in our living room?”.

Obviously, she was happy for you, after the first shock wore off.

The piece of Brunsviger was gone the next morning as you brought Freddie to the door.

"You're gonna be great," you told him goodbye.

The hug was long. Neither of you wanted to be the first to leave. In the end, it was time that drove you apart. If Freddie wanted to get to the airport on time, he had to hurry.

–

Of course, you watched the games. The first game was great, the second one maybe even better. It was also the first time since the new job that you were actually able to give the games your full attention again. Even if you hadn't really noticed it before, you had missed it a little.

You had a good time. When Freddie had a particularly good save, you wrote him a message. You knew he would reply after the game in the flustered way he always reacted to compliments.

The phone call one evening still took you by surprise. A smile spread across your face. "Hey."

"Hej."

Before you could even reply, you heard a voice in the background.

"Hey, Freddie, what got you smiling like this?" You didn’t recognize the voice but you also didn't have to in order to understand the clearly teasing undertone.

The rustling from the line told you that Freddie must have covered the microphone for a moment. The muffled words he threw back sounded a lot like an insult. The response was laughter.

"Talking to your girlfriend?" came another voice, also obviously meant to tease.

Freddie didn’t reply. You could only imagine his facial expression.

Apparently, it was an interesting one. They probably also had expected some kind of denial.

Now there were several voices talking excitedly over each other.

"Wait what?" - "Wait are you serious?" - "Since when?"

"You can't just say that and leave! You have to-"

Then the voices in the background suddenly disappeared.

"Sorry, I just need to change rooms for a minute”, he said a little sheepishly. "They might have found out that we've been talking."

"Do you mind?" You chewed on your lower lip as you awaited the answer. Freddie didn't sound too worried, but still, probably better to ask.

"Eh, not really" Then came the cautious question from him too: "Does it bother you?"

You took a moment to really think about it. Maybe it should have bothered you. Especially considering the fact that this was still so new with you two. Still, you couldn't find it in you to worry about it right now. You were far too happy for that.

"No. It probably had to come out somehow. Even if it was quicker than I thought. For hockey players, they're surprisingly smart."

Freddie's laughter rang out from the line. It made you miss seeing the little crinkles form around his eyes. "I'll tell them you said that”, he warned.

"Tony called today."

"Tony? From equipment?" Immediately you could hear Freddie perk up.

As if you knew another Tony.

"Uh-hu. You still have space in your car for one more person?" You let yourself fall backward onto your bed as you gave him a few moments to understand what you were saying.

A few seconds of silence and then a cautiously hopeful: "Yeah?"

"Just so I’m not almost late again, obviously." The corners of your mouth slowly began to pull into a grin.

"Really? Does that mean...?" The joy in his voice only made your grin widen.

"I'm employed. Permanently this time. Not just temporary."

Even as you heard the news from Tony himself, you could barely contain your happiness. As soon as you'd hung up, you'd jumped so loudly that even Jane had come out of the next room.

"That's fantastic!"

You couldn't even put into words how incredibly happy you were just then. The only thing that would’ve made the moment better was if you could have hugged Freddie at that moment.

–

Before you knew it, the day of the third and final game of the road trip had arrived. As you watched the game on the side while you prepared your dinner, you had a good feeling.

The first period wasn't ideal, but it wasn't disastrous either. The second period started with a goal for the Canes. You jumped up and down enthusiastically, broccoli in hand.

After that, it was all downhill. At the end of the second 20 minutes, the Canes were already 2 goals behind. Two more goals followed. Freddie got pulled in the last 5 minutes. You could almost feel his frustration through the screen as he went down the tunnel.

At that moment, you wished you could’ve been there. How much you would’ve liked to give him a hug and tell him that everything would be okay.

You hesitated for a moment before sending a text. You definitely didn't want to annoy him. A text could never really express the comfort you wanted to give him, but it felt even worse not to write anything.

You tried not to think too much about it when you still hadn't heard back after half an hour. He was probably busy with his post-game routines. After all, they were set to travel back today and arrive late tonight. Surely, he would reply on the plane.

–

It was pure coincidence that you were looking at your phone at that exact moment. Of course, you hadn't been checking for new messages every 5 minutes all evening. Who would do that? Definitely not you. (There were at least 6 and a half minutes on average between each time you checked your phone.)

So, it was definitely a complete coincidence that you were able to read the text the minute it flashed up on your phone.

It was just two short lines. An address.

It wasn’t even a question if you should go. Before you could even really think about it, you had already grabbed your jacket and put on your shoes.

As you closed the front door, your cell phone beeped with another message.

‘Only if you want to. Might not be in the best mood tonight.’

An obvious offer of a way out. As if you hadn't been waiting for this the whole evening. As if the thought of seeing Freddie again in just a few minutes didn't give you butterflies in your stomach.

Your heart broke a little at how uncertain the texts sounded, as if you hadn't missed him for the last few days.

Excitement tingled in your fingers as you finally stepped into the elevator to Freddie’s apartment. It had been a short drive.

The door swung open. Freddie was standing in front of you. For a moment, you just looked at each other silently, then he literally pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you sank into his arms.

You buried your face in his sweater. The warmth of his body and his familiar scent enveloped you. You could’ve stayed like this forever.

Freddie pressed a gentle kiss into your hair before holding you just a little tighter.

It was the rumbling of his stomach that finally separated you. Even though Freddie was reluctant to let you go, you shooed him into the apartment. He shouldn't have to starve because of you. Who knows when he’d last eaten before the flight?

Freddie apparently understood what you wanted from him and so he led you through the entrance area into the open kitchen. There was already a pot on the stove, some kind of pasta in it. Next to it was a pan of chopped vegetables.

While he took a large wooden spoon and stirred it slowly, you jumped onto one of the counters and sat down. Given your height and the height of the counters, which were definitely adapted to Freddie, it wasn't as easy as you thought, but the twitch in the corner of Freddie's mouth made it worth the effort.

From your position, you could watch Freddie. How his movements were all a little too choppy and the tense line in his shoulders. How he put the spoon down too hard on the counter. How he didn’t raise his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault." You said quietly.

Freddie exhaled in disbelief. He didn't look up at you.

Only when you reached out a hand for him did he come closer. He propped himself up with his arms on both sides of you, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

"Even though you might not believe me just yet, it wasn't your fault," you repeated, hoping that your words would get through to him eventually.

One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other you let run slowly through his hair.

"You did everything you could. It just wasn't your game. Can't win them all."

He let it pass for a moment, then took a deep breath. He turned his head. With a quick kiss against your neck, he pulled away from you.

"Thank you." He couldn't quite meet your gaze, but you still saw his words for what they were. Not just a thank you for right now, but the texts, the coming over, all the times before that.

"Nothing to thank me for," you confirmed. Freddie shook his head lovingly.

Nevertheless, he probably decided not to disagree for the moment. Instead, he took a plate from the cupboard. Silently he held it out to you, but you shook your head. You’d already eaten.

While Freddie ate, you sat beside him on the sofa. Your legs pressed together with soft music playing in the background for company.

When Freddie got up to take his plate back to the kitchen, you watched him.

Until he came back you hadn't moved from your seat, but apparently, Freddie was no longer satisfied with your previous seating arrangement. With a little shifting around, he finally settled behind you.

His legs were on either side of you, his back against the couch cushions, your back against his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, drawing slow circles into your side. The other hand was intertwined with yours on your lap.

Your words were quiet. You talked about the last few days, hockey the topic you both ignored. While you told him about the cute dog you'd seen while going grocery shopping, Freddie about something funny one of his teammates had done at team breakfast.

So much more important than your conversations, however, was the fact that you were together at that moment. You enjoyed the closeness; the body heat that radiated from him and slowly made you sleepy.

Every once in a while, Freddie took turns in gently kissing your temple and your forehead. Each time you sank a little more against him.

–

"Happy New Year," Freddie murmured. His arms around your waist pulled you closer to him.

"Happy New Year," you whispered back against his lips. With your hands on the back of his neck, you reached up for a kiss.

Even after all these years, you still weren't tired of it. Hopefully, you’d never be.

#hockey imagine #hockey fic #frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen x f!reader #nic writes #winter fic exchange 2k24 #winter fic exchange

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calaisreno · 1 year

Text

Candles

For the prompt: Candle Light / May 7 @notjustamumj

The thunder started an hour ago, a storm moving in from the southwest. John has just settled Rosie, grateful that the bedtime battle is over, when a clap of thunder and the sudden pelting of rain on the windows wake her again.

“Great,” he says, scooping her from the cot. “Okay, Rosebug, let’s go look for the candles.”

The kitchen is the obvious place to look. Mary seems to have prepared them for every possible emergency— well, except for her own death. There is plenty of powdered baby milk and cereal, more tins of soup than John will ever eat, and batteries of every type. First aid kit, multitool, books of matches.

But no candles.

In the dark, there is no telly to distract them, just the rain and random cracks of thunder, loud enough to shake the bric-a-brac on the shelves. Rosie is exhausted, but each boom rouses her, starts her screaming again.

“I know,” John mutters, walking her around the room. “I feel like crying myself.”

The letter. The things he wrote to Sherlock, after… He’d been wild with grief, unable to sort out his feelings. What happened was clearly Mary’s fault. It was her choice to go to the aquarium, to shield Sherlock from the bullet that would have killed him. And irrationally, John had blamed it all on Sherlock.

After Sherlock came back, John had struggled to realign the frayed ends of his life. He had grieved Sherlock for two years, and gradually realised what he felt for his dead friend. But he’d moved on, and wouldn’t have survived without Mary.

He’d chosen her. He’d married her, and she was having his child. But he was unhappy, and knew it.

In the darkness, he imagines the familiar shapes of 221B— two chairs, the table where he used to write his blogposts, the tall window where Sherlock would stand, playing his violin.

Sherlock will never forgive him. The things he wrote in the letter were unforgivable.

A sudden crack of thunder, and Rosie starts up again. John stands at the window bouncing her, his own tears falling on the soft, blond hair.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, love.”

A knock on the door startles him.

Who would call on such a stormy night? Sometimes neighbours call, in need of a doctor.

Locks undone, he opens the door. A flash of lightning illuminates his caller like a character in a horror movie. Wet hair, pale face, sharp features.

“Sherlock.” John is so surprised to see him that he simply stands there, gaping as the rain drips off his coat.

“John.” Fishing in his pocket, Sherlock pulls out a packet. “Candles.”

“Come inside,” he says. “You’re soaked.”

A brief smile. “Not quite.”

In the darkness, Sherlock shrugs off his coat. “Do you have baby food jars?”

“Jars?”

“For the candles.” Sherlock takes Rosie from his arms. “So the wax won’t drip on your table.”

Jars, he has in abundance. Rosie is a good eater who has never met a baby food she won’t eat. He rinses six jars and sets them on the table.

Sherlock is explaining thunder to Rosie. “In the clouds, there’s a lot of static. The atmosphere insulates it, but it builds up until it has to go somewhere and— boom! It sends lightning to the ground.”

The thunder booms, Sherlock says boom again, and Rosie giggles.

John burns his finger on a match. Sherlock finds his lighter and offers it to John, who lights each candle, letting it drip into the jar, then sticking the base into the wax. Rosie watches, rapt.

“Boo,” she says, reaching for the light.

“Boom!” Sherlock picks up one of the candles. “Let there be light!”

They move the candles into the sitting room and settle themselves on the sofa.

“It’s her teeth,” John says.

“It’s fine.”

“You live thirty minutes away,” John points out. “And yet you arrived right after the storm started.”

“Weather report.”

“And you deduced I didn’t have candles?”

“Lucky guess.”

“You never guess.”

Sherlock smiles. In the candle light, his features soften. His pale skin glows golden. He’s beautiful.

John bites his lip. Why is Sherlock here? The letter—

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Nothing I can say will ever excuse…” He looks down, feels tears splash on his hands.

“Didn’t read it.”

“What?”

“You were angry. If I’d read it, that would have stood between us. I didn’t want that. So, I burned it.”

Rosie’s asleep now. Sherlock carries her to her room, John leading the way with a candle. Laid in her cot, she sighs, finding her thumb.

Downstairs, John says, “No electricity. I’m afraid tea is out of the question.”

“It’s fine.” Sherlock reaches into his coat pocket, produces a bottle. “This will warm us up.”

It does. In the flickering glow of the candles, they drink in silence.

“I’m sorry,” John says.

“You don’t need to apologise. I’m the one who’s sorry— and I haven’t properly said so.” He holds his glass, staring into the amber depths. “I miscalculated, and I deeply regret that.”

“Miscalculated?”

“I didn’t realise how much I mattered to you. Or how much you mattered to me. I’m sorry for making you think it was all a joke. Can we…?”

“Be friends again?”

“I would like that.” His eyes are some indescribable colour in the candle light. He looks at John, searching.

“Maybe,” John says. He shakes his head. “Maybe we could be more.”

Sherlock sighs, rubs his eyes. “I was afraid. I thought you hated me.”

“I did.” He smiles at the look Sherlock gives him now. “If I hadn’t cared for you— if I hadn’t loved you before, I wouldn’t have been so angry with you.”

“You loved me?”

“I love you. I’ll be your friend. But if you want—”

“Yes.” Sherlock’s eyes shine with tears. “Yes, I do want. I love you too.”

Years from now, John will remember Sherlock’s face, radiant, his hair red-gold in the candle light. He’ll remember that first kiss.

1000 words this time: flash fiction

💕 Thank you for reading/reblogging!

Tagging: @elwinglyre @helloliriels @raina-at @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jrow @peanitbear @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @lisbeth-kk @mydogwatson @eterne-locked @thegildedbee @sarahthecoat

#johnlock #notjustamom may prompts #my fics #candle light #fic prompt #sherlock bbc #flashfiction #1000 words

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cryiling · 2 months

Note

Hi, crow! How are you doing? 😁

for the ship ask game: revalink (hehe), botw/totk zelink, and miphlink (i think that’s the correct ship name??)

(ask game from here)

omg hi iri!!! I'm doing well hru? imyy thank you for the ask 🥺🫶

revalink - ship

what made you ship it?

last february i was going through my zelda phase again and i was looking for fics to read. previously i had read a lot of sidlink fics so I was looking for something new, and I decided to check out revalink fics and. oh em gee. i got hooked 😭

I remember insisting I only liked it ironically but 💀 look where I am now. #1 revalink shipper oopsies 🤭 their dynamic really stood out to me, I've shipped a lot of rivals to lovers before so I guess once I started to consider it revalink just made sense to me. also revalink fics are devastatingly good, like there's a couple that I reread religiously 😫

what are your favorite things about the ship?

omg I LOVE THIS QUESTIONNN. saurr many things like. I mentioned it already but I love their dynamic, especially when you start to analyze it beyond the surface level. I love headcanons about why revali lashes out at link in the first place, especially in relation to the champion's ballad dlc and how revali's diary reveals that he's just really insecure about himself. I think they're such good character foils to each other and that makes their interactions, both as rivals and as lovers, so much richer than some of the other ships in the game. their relationship is so open to interpretation and that makes it one of the most satisfying ships to make content for SHFJDBF

is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

hmm not that I can think of! i post a lot of headcanons and stuff but I don't think they've ever been unpopular, maybe just unique. like my all the president's men au 💀 i still think abt that sometimes LOL

botw/totk zelink - don't ship

why don't you ship it?

aghhh ok ok hear me out. i don't ship them romantically BUT i do think they are peak queerplatonic vibes. it's just, the idea of knight x princess already feels like a weird dynamic to me, like I'm not a huge fan idk? ughh idk how to explain it. to me I've always preferred them to have more of a sibling dynamic. urgh I know I said hear me out but I'm not explaining it well. the voices told me not to ship it idk

what would have made you like it?

ok tbh I think zelink is cute in like every other game! just not these two 😭 so I guess if you put the two characters in literally any other game I would like them? aghhhh idk what it is about this one that makes me not want to ship it!! maybe in this game if they had a different backstory I would have shipped it. but tee bee ache link was so unhappy as a knight that I'm rooting for him to leave the whole royalty system behind and go live in the woods with his bird boyfriend idk 😭

despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I literally think zelink makes the most sense as a ship, they're soulmates and they would go to the ends of the earth for each other, I'm sorry I feel so bad for not shipping them 😭 BUT on the other hand, I think all that can be true without having to be romantic yk? that's why I think they're a really good queerplatonic couple, they understand each other like no one else could, they always look out for each other and they can't imagine not being in the other's life. it's just not romantic. aughh I think they have such a good relationship but just not romantically 😣 maybe it's bc I'm also aspec

miphlink - don't ship

why don't you ship it?

I feel really bad but like mipha's crush was so clearly one-sided 😭 it's weird bc my absolute favorite trope is childhood friends to lovers, and they check the childhood friends box, but the ship just feels too vanilla/basic to me. I do think they're besties tho, because since they grew up together they'll be super close and know each other very well. but imo link doesn't see her like that and mipha eventually moves on

what would have made you like it?

I think a.) mipha's character should have been fleshed out more because she felt so one-dimensional and it kind of bothered me, her character had so much more potential and I love seeing fanon version of her where she actually has a personality. and b.) if there was a little more pining on both link's and mipha's parts. the best part of childhood friends to lovers is the pining!!

despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I love mipha and I love link and I think they'll always look out for each other and be besties forever!! the end 😽

#ask game #revalink #zelink #miphlink #botw #totk #breath of the wild #tears of the kingdom #the legend of zelda #tloz #me being So Normal about this game #aaaa thank u for the ask iri!!! I love talking abt this game 🤭

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Text

This All Day

Steve is excellent at love-making, but he needs encouragement to branch out. (Pure smut. Minors DNI. Also, this is ~5k, so enjoy...)

See where this Steve/Reader began here!

Slow and steady wins the race, but sometimes you just want to fucking lose. Like, you don’t know, pinned-down-on-the-battlefield-by-enemy-forces lose. Like conquer-your-body lose. Like he-actually-screamed-‘fuck’ lose.

You can’t tell him that, though, because he’s so sweet, so tender, so attentive that it’s just rude, right? Don’t fix what ain’t broke, ya know? He’s super! Cool. But super conservative and controlled in the sack…is just not cutting it for you tonight.

He’s spooning you after glorious, sensual love-making as happens pretty much every night you get to sleep together, but you’re wide awake and about to crawl out of your skin attack that guy every time his hot breath hits the back of your neck. You can’t wake him up, right? And even if you did, it’d be the same thing that got you so riled up in the first place. He’s a smart man. Variation keeps people on their toes, and it would keep curling your toes a lot more if he’d—

“I can hear your heart racing,” Steve mutters behind you. “What’s wrong?”

Another wave of heat hits you in just the wrong place. You’re starting to sweat, and it feels overly-stifling to be pressed so close to him. You wiggle beneath his lax arm over your waist.

He’s not hard, and he doesn’t move or acknowledge your ass rubbing against him because he’s so pristinely controlled that he won’t. He won’t get hard until you’re warmed up with his fingers—not your fingers, mind you, because he got very defensive that one time, so just his fingers—which is, again, so sweet because he is fairly large and that would absolutely hurt to not be prepared.

Still.

Let a lady know you are excited, damn it. Insert a little passion and abandon into the bedroom every now-and-then, okay. His palm moves from your stomach to your forehead.

“Do you feel sick? Fever?”

That’s so nice.

You kinda hate it. You’re sick of something, but you feel like an asshole for even thinking this way. Your fantasies of Steve branching out into various explorations got you this far, surely you can just…continue to ramp yourself up at the thought while he politely sits there and calls an ambulance, thinking you’re having a heart attack.

But you can’t say it. You can’t just turn around and say “fuck me.” He’ll get upset, not just at the language, but he’ll think you’re unhappy or unsatisfied. That’s not true, you’re just not…fully satisfied.

Steve’s breathing is pushing his gloriously broad chest against your back, and it’s part of one particular position you’ve been imagining, so of course, you whine involuntarily. That doesn’t help.

“Honey, are you in pain?”

Yeah, you’ve really done it now. He won’t go back to sleep until he gets a solid answer and it’s an explanation he believes, so you are fucked but not in the way you wanted.

“No,” you croak slightly because you’ve been salivating thinking of things for the past hour and didn’t intend to use your mouth to speak, “fine.” You can hear his perfect, concerned frown from all the way at the back of your head. What’s the worst that could happen? You sexually attack Captain America and he fights back? Great, you’re gonna die of embarrassment anyway. Crack that can of whoop-ass open and hope it lands on your left ass-cheek because—

Oh boy, you really do need to calm down.

He props himself up on an elbow.

You can do this. You’re a strong, modern woman, and you’re just asking for what you want. He’s a grown man. He can handle it. He can man-handle yo—Focus. Come on now—REALLY? That’s worse.

Every single thought you have is directing you back to that almost sore ache in your stomach. The few times you’ve tried to make light of sexual innuendo, Steve’s said you sound like Tony. Maybe you should get Tony to have this talk with him? No. Steve would never, ever speak to you again because Tony would never, ever stop talking about it.

You have no way out of this. It’s happening. He could do this all day. You wouldn’t starve; he’d bring you food and water. He’d probably even do all the physical therapy to keep your muscles from atrophying while he waits for the whole truth, but you’d still be disappointed because…he wouldn’t even tie you down.

You clear your throat and roll over. It’s dark, but you’ve both been sitting in the dark so long you can kinda see. You can see enough to be hyper-aware that you’re both naked still, which should help but does not help at all.

It’s go time, or as Tony said that once—as awful then as it is now—“clench them thighs and ride that bull, sweetie.” Oh man, you hate Tony, but you love Tony to death. What a fucking lunatic…

Steve lays down again so you are eye to eye. You can’t even see the blue of his eyes, and they’re still piercing you.

“So,” you start because maybe it’ll all fall out perfectly if you just say shit, “you’re great but—“

Steve immediately tenses all over. Great start, great plan, and you should keep your day job. Therapist isn’t for you.

“No, no, that didn’t—it’s not bad—I just can’t—“ Even though you don’t have super senses, you can tell Steve has stopped breathing. You need to fix it, and fix it fast. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so your hand goes straight to his dick, shifting you close enough to feel Steve inhale sharply. That’s enough to keep you going. “I…would like more…” You got this. You can do it. “…passion, or like, a show of passion, if you feel that way…”

Steve’s hand cups your face. “Honey, do you think I don’t love you? That’s ridiculous.”

“No, I just mean that—“ retracting your hand “—if you feel intensely…into me—“ you start talking with your hands because it fills the small space between you “—then I’d be very interested in that…sort of thing.” Awesome. You explained nothing.

He’s quiet, thinking. Then he’s thinking for too long, and that is not a good indicator. You still can’t think of any better words because he’ll take offense to “aggressive” or “rough.” In Steve’s mind, those things cannot equal love; they are demeaning and would trivialize what he values about you and what your value is as a woman and human being.

That is…so fucking nice, but would it kill him to pull your hair just a little? Hold you down just to keep an angle for—

Poor Steve’s wheels are still turning. At this rate, it’ll be morning before you ease him into your point, so you just have to do it.

“I want you to fuck me.” The whites of his eyes are definitely visible in the dark. How could they not be? There’s so much of them showing. “I understand—I know you love me, but I feel safe enough with you, and I know you won’t hurt me, so yeah…”

Oscar-worthy. Clearly. You can’t imagine why you stalled so long.

Steve says nothing, and all of the fight but none of the frustration drains from your body. Words are a minefield. You can’t say you’d like to experiment with him because duh. You can’t tell him to be more manly because also duh, and nothing is getting to the crux of what and how you want to feel except…

“I’d like us to explore,” you intone very slowly, “options…of pleasure.” The hesitation in your own voice is less than convincing, but at least none of the words should trigger an outright ‘no.’

“I’m…” Steve’s voice is extremely quiet, making it deeper and more sexual than he probably intends, so you press one knee over the other and brace for anything. “I’m not sharing you.”

You snort. Ok, so you’re not quite there, and in typical Cap-fashion, he’s hurtled right over the point and run off.

“Uh, no, babe,” you use his cheeky nickname because it’s cute that he’s so thick sometimes. “Wow, no. Okay, so—“ the hands are back flailing to help “—I was thinking more about how when I’m really excited to be with you that I feel like a powerful urgency—“

He places one broad hand against your naked hip with just a hint of grip and pressure.

You forget where the thought was going. You just had the words, or a least some words, but they’re gone now because his hand is very warm and you’re sweating again.

“Have you ever heard of the phrase—“ Het up? No, you can’t say that. He’ll be even more confused. “—wild abandon?”

There’s a rumble of recognition in Steve’s throat. You’re getting somewhere, you think. Maybe.

“And I’m not…wild enough?”

Nope. There’s clearly no way to not bruise his ego and get your point across. “Well,” your voice cracks an octave too high, “I’m tired, so this is done.” You start to roll back over, but his hand gets a lot heavier, a now distinctly firm grip anchoring your bones to the bed.

“No, this is important.” Steve almost never seems mad, but he seems…something. He shifts up again to hold his head close and over yours. “Show me.”

That’s not a request. He isn’t being polite or curious. Steve Rogers gave you an order, and damn, now you’re getting somewhere.

You’ve had the fantasies for long enough that it’s all basically muscle memory, even though you’ve never pulled Steve to you so fast, and you’ve never shoved your tongue in his mouth so quickly, and you’ve never bit his bottom lip so hard. You toss your leg up and over his and fling yourself on top of him (which basically he had to let you do because he is 100% strong and heavy enough to not have moved an inch). It almost makes you laugh when you grasp his wrists in both your hands; this wouldn’t hold him for a second, but you’re under orders now. Commit to the cause.

Show don’t tell, right? So you straddle his hips and center yourself over him before rocking back and forth in long strokes. After only a few, you can feel your wetness start to smooth over his skin, and as Steve hardens, his cock presses into your lips. You let your breath come out in hot gasps, mainly because you didn’t think to control that before the head of him is right there about to breach—

“Honey, we need a condom.”

You stop. Whatever little spell of confidence you’d been under breaks, and you release his hands before climbing off him and the side of the bed. It’s thoughtful. He’s totally right. You’re absolutely gonna hide in a corner and die of embarrassment because it’s out there now—your horny inner self has been seen. No amount of darkness can cover it back up.

You face the wall, psyching yourself up for getting back into bed, arms wrapped around your bare middle like the blanket you’re missing. Eyes shut, you try to hold your breathing steady while rustling continues behind you. It’s probably Steve just getting the blanket to cover you with. He probably doesn’t care about whether he’s turned on at all. He just wants your comfort. That’s all great, but it would also have been great to just fuck yourself on him.

And there he is, hand at the small of your back, gentle as always, cautious as ever—oh my. His hand slides down, pinky finger actually tucking into your crack before he palms the swell of your ass. That’s…that’s certainly a firmer grip than usual, and the dig of his fingers to spread you is magic. Very promising.

He leans into your ear, whole glorious body flush beside you, condom on and all, and he whispers, “anything at all you don’t like, you stop me.”

Yes, sir. “Uh huh,” you huff out instead of any coherent words. You relish the warmth on one side of you, skin chilled by the open air on the other, before Steve starts to slide down to his knees, pushing at your ass and hip till you face him.

You’re struggling to balance even until he’s holding you still, plunging his face into the nest of hair at your center, tasting the hints of slick you rubbed against him before—did he just moan?! The sound crumples your resolve to stay upright while these luxurious bursts of arousal shiver up your spine, but he’s there, super-strength and super-control coordinating to lift your legs over his shoulders and angle your descent onto the bed. It’s not a fall or a flop onto the mattress; you are flowing down to it like water, and the way Steve’s lapping at you now certainly gives the impression he’s thirsty.

Little convulsions force your hand up to your chest, useless while he’s pushing your legs apart, nuzzling to get just the angle he wants, and—oh, that moan was you that time.

Steve’s encouraged, and ‘enthusiastic’ might be too light a descriptor for the type of intent he has on your pleasure at the moment. He’s consuming every buck of your hips and shake of your muscles. He’s echoing every lost syllable from your drying mouth which pants cold air as jolts of electricity ricochet all over you, all returning to be sucked out by his ravaging attention.

This is where the trick comes: when Steve makes love to you, he wants to see you, to be face to face and ready to cradle you through your orgasm. Now you’re used to that. Now you want that closeness, but you can’t discourage this, right? This is great progress.

Doesn’t matter. You want what you want. Your hand latches onto the top of his head, fingers brutally pulling at his hair to get him up to your mouth in time. Steve stretches over you easily, curling down to meet you, and while his lips are attached to your neck for the briefest moment, your other hand grasps to line him up so he can fill you. As large as he is, you’re so aroused he practically falls in, and the all-at-once sensation has him open-mouth gasping against you before finishing his kiss. Rocking your hips drags your clit across him just enough to tip you over the edge, and you grip at his sides with weak arms.

Normally sweet and soothing with a soft touch and careful movements when you come, Steve hoists your ass up, keeping himself deep inside your fluttering walls, and bends to latch his mouth onto your nipple.

He starts thrusting again. Ragged, choked screams escape your unguarded lips. He reaches for your ankle behind his back and stretches it out, each new exposure of flesh to fresh air a rush and shiver, until his palm lies flat, pushing just above the back of your knee. He repeats this for the other side, pinning you at the edge of the bed. It’s a lot, but it’s not too much when every few thrusts, Steve moves his mouth to a new spot. He’s grounding you in this very real fantasy of yours; he’s exquisitely amateur.

Because you know Steve and Steve knows you, the excitement of him exploring this with you is magnificent. The minor hesitations in each new position for him melt away when he feels your excitement and pleasure. His mouth lands on your throat, and your fingers find his hair again. He slows and stops, arms releasing your legs.

He whispers into the skin below your ear, “do you…want to be on top again?”

It’s Steve; he can’t do dirty talk. He’ll say you’re beautiful and you feel good and parts of your body are beautiful and feel good, but he might actually burst into flames if he ever uttered the words “ride me” or “fuck me.” Oh man, is it still exciting to hear him ask though…

You nod, realizing by the stiffness of your muscles that this exploration has gone on much longer than you thought, and it thrills you. Time still gets lost and you still feel connected even when Steve isn’t embracing you the whole time. You hope he feels that too.

Steve climbs onto the bed beside you, ignoring where the pillows are and how you’d normally sleep, a testament to how invested he is in this time and possibly his own pleasure. He lays there, heavy breaths lifting his broad chest, dick hard and strained in a slick condom, looking possibly the sexiest you’ve ever seen him.

Normally, Steve likes you to come together, and that’s it. The one-for-one ratio has been broken now, making you invested in keeping this worthwhile for you both. He’s just so fucking gorgeous, and you know from months of experience that he has no fucking idea how gorgeous. You get to savor him. He’s going to let you savor his body.

You straddle him again, confidence returning as your fingers graze over his barely sweating skin, pale and faint in the dark. Steve keeps his hands up, unsure whether to return them to their previous position without your instruction. Honestly, you don’t care, too enchanted by the possibilities, your hands tucking around the hard muscles encasing his waist, leaning to kiss his sternum. All the salty skin you cover up to his throat has you in a heady focus on his every move, and you slowly lower yourself back to feeling his taut erection against your expectant cunt. Using the word, even just in your head, sets off the automated reaction of ‘things-Steve-won’t-like,’ but that fuels your urge to try anything you want tonight. You have permission. Goodness knows, Steve isn’t going to magically talk dirty.

You stretch across him to reclaim that soft spot on his neck, noticing a rumble start in his throat and that his dick pulses up just the slightest bit. Now you’re curious, beginning a tentative sweep of your hips to then tuck lower when you feel his tip pass your apex. It takes a few strokes, but then you two are aligned just right, and you can sink down his length without having used your hands at all.

The rumble becomes a groan. Steve’s arms fall, tips of his fingers brushing your knees. You untuck your hands and crawl them up to perch on his chest. Steve is staring into your eyes when you finally meet his, but in the dark, it’s not immediately obvious to you how engrossed he is. Not until you start riding him in earnest, rolling your hips and letting your hands wander more. His broad palms slide up to either side of your ass, following, not leading, planted without pressure.

Well, by all means, if he’s staring, you may as well give him a show. You begin to shift back, slowly and steadily lifting up and sliding down him, moving your hands from his chest to guide his up to your breasts. That’s a tough sell; Steve abhors any type of objectification, but by your lead, he allows it, very softly rubbing his thumbs across your nipples. He’s rewarded with more moans. He’s a quick study once you tell him a subject exists to learn.

He takes the initiative to pinch at one nipple, and you’re downright proud of him and the sound you make to encourage him, falling backwards to prop yourself up against his thigh. You watch carefully as Steve’s eyes fall from your chest to where his cock disappears inside you. His hands stall, he’s so mesmerized. Your hands stroke at his thighs in time with your up and down movements, and that confidence combined with this growing lust for the man you already have inside you pushes you to take in every inch of him you can, reaching back beneath your own ass to massage his balls.

Steve makes a strangled noise, and his hands fall to your hips again. You release him immediately about to dismount in concern that you’ve gone too far until he wraps his arms around your waist. You fall to his chest, his length still buried inside you when his hips thrust up. Steve pants into your hair before plunging his fingers through the strands and wrenching you up to face him. His hips keep thrusting. From his expression, this is barely Steve. Steve is lost in you right now, and the man who can run a marathon without breaking a sweat is exhausting the air in the room to fuck into you. Somehow the hard hold in your hair is one of the most loving things he’s ever done to you because Steve is uncontrollably feeling you, letting himself feel you, enjoying himself feeling you.

His pumping becomes erratic and suddenly he’s sitting you both up while he firmly grinds your whole body down onto him, foreheads together, mouths open and desperate just inches apart. In all the times you’ve had sex, Steve has never kept his eyes closed when he comes. It’s a night of firsts all around.

“I’m sorry, love, I…” He slowly unknots his fist from your hair and slides his hand down your damp skin to your ass, lifting the weighty cheek so you can adjust in his lap. Your shifting makes him gasp in overstimulation. You wish you could see every micro expression cascading across his features, but it’s too dark. You just have to imagine his shock, awe, and satisfaction because Steve does not like to be dirty or stuck in a spent condom. You should let him clean up.

The start of your movement is cut short by the grip at your waist. Steve nuzzles at your cheek. “You’re still—“ he brings the other hand around from your ass to flatten it low across your belly “—wet.”

You’re too taken aback to laugh but a huff and smile will suffice, leaning against his forehead. “It’s fine.”

Steve shakes his head ‘no’ a few dragging times then kisses you, deep and serious, his ‘I love you’ kiss that lasts far longer than the words would if dropped from his lips into the air. His grip relaxes as he pulls away, making you keen forward for more.

“Touch yourself,” he says into your lips just before the distance is closed. Your thoughts muddle; you’re not sure you even heard right. He gives you a quick but tender kiss. “Touch yourself for me.” There’s a twinge of excitement in that order, a bit of a dare mixed with softening lust. You activate weak thighs to prop up, but Steve has to help lift you to crawl off and towards your pillow.

You lay out, cold without him near you, as he uses the baby wipes by the bed to clean himself off. You have to close your eyes for a bit of courage. The last time you tried this in front of Steve, he openly argued that he thought it meant he wasn’t enough for you. You won’t even mention that you masturbate, even if you’re always thinking about him, even if it’s when he’s on a mission and simply can’t be there to please you. Now you’ll have even more to miss when he’s away…

He wasn’t wrong; you are still wet, and the sensitivity you feel even grazing a finger across yourself is a testament to how fucking hot the whole encounter has been. You’ve barely inserted a finger when you feel the mattress dip beneath one bent knee. You think he’s coming to take over, that he simply meant to give him a moment until he returned, but Steve crawls towards your foot instead and rests a hand on your ankle. He makes no move to interfere.

As you add another finger and curl them up inside you, you open the heavy lids of your eyes to see him settling at your feet, head lowering to kiss your inner thigh just above your knee. He’s giving you space. He might even be taking notes, but who the fuck cares when you can still see him coming apart beneath you. When you first roll your slick fingers over your clit, it feels just like his tongue did, and you’re positive you will never not think about that from now on. You’ve got so many beautiful, desperately sexy mental images of him, and they’re all cramming together to build that wildly scorching pressure that Steve Rogers has ordered you to chase. It’s distracting how many different ways you can picture taking him now that the doors are wide open and you know he can enjoy it. It’s so distracting you can’t keep any semblance of rhythm.

Steve kisses a little higher on your thigh, and you feel his hand caressing lower and lower. He’s still just watching with a hungry fascination you never would have imagined. You feel like the first moving picture he’s ever seen, something incomprehensible and distinctly desirable with this intimately exhibitionist behavior. You can’t keep up for much longer. The fantasies are breeding with reality and spawning more things you can picture and things you want to do, but Steve is there to help.

He’s ready, painting some of the slick on your inner thigh onto his middle and ring fingers, gliding them past your own as you desperately rub at your clit again. He crooks them at just the perfect angle and matches little pulses with the circles you make above until that prickling strain inside you starts to implode moments before the dam of ecstasy breaks. Steve’s mouth pushes away your hand as he sucks your nerves gloriously raw, the tip of his tongue circling just as your muscles contract, and he follows your body as it shrinks away. You half-scream encouragement while Steve doesn’t relent, replacing his mouth with his thumb as he watches your cum squirt all over his hand. Two more waves of release roll through you before it’s over.

Once he withdraws his fingers, Steve rests his palm across your drenched sex, soothing and steady, while he shifts his body around so his other hand can cup the back of your neck. He’s gentle but you’re still muttering nonsense until Steve kisses your brow.

“I’ve got you. I’m with you, love.”

You blindly tilt and stretch searching for his mouth because the edges of your numb bliss are starting to singe in the remaining embers of desire. First, your lips connect to his sharp jaw but suction there anyway, latching hard enough to leave a mark even on the enhanced man above you. Then he finds you proper, smoothing his hand from your core to the small of your back to lift you close to him, chest to chest, fingers sliding into your hair. You’re sloppy, groping and grabbing at his sweaty back, intoxicated by the intensity of his attention. He’s doing it again, grounding you via deep, solid kisses. The smoldering edges calm, still melting against the heat of him in your arms.

Eventually, Steve breaks away, settling his forehead to yours before flipping you to the other side of the mattress and covering your limp form in the blanket. It’s only when he leaves the bed and returns with towels that you realize he gave you his spot to keep you dry. He asks before delicately moving the covers to wipe your body clean, whispering little praises and sweet nothings, until tucking himself under the blanket with you, wedged together on two-thirds of your whole mattress.

Steve nuzzles into your hair to kiss the crown of your head, behind your ear, and your temple, sliding his arm to replace the pillow at your neck. He snakes an arm around your waist and down your arm until he laces his fingers into yours. He settles, saying nothing for a whole minute while you both simply enjoy the comfort of being close.

Suddenly, you hear him let out a little laugh.

“There’s my best girl’s happy heartbeat,” he sighs, kissing your bare shoulder.

Now we are getting somewhere, you think. The rest of the night is the best sleep you think you’ve ever had.

(More on Steve's *thing* for stockings)

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