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theemporium · 8 months ago

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[14.5k] ethan edwards was prepared for his rookie year in the nhl. he just wasn't prepared for a rat infestation, an unlikely roommate and to fall in love too. (smutty scenes mostly implied)

aka a fic based in the future when ethan finally joins the devils so don’t take anything remotely seriously!

happy birthday @httplando!! enjoy the belated birthday fic🤠gonna go mute you now before you spam my phone with voice notes of you giggling over ethan xoxo

SEPTEMBER

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He had long come to terms with the fact he was in the National Hockey League. It still felt surreal but the reality had long sunk in since the day he was drafted. This was his goal. This was his dream. And he had made it.

And he knew it would be different from hockey in any other league he had played. He knew it would be faster, harder, more demanding than college hockey. He knew that he would be pushing his body to levels he had never experienced. He knew he was mentally going to go through some of the toughest months of his life as he settled into the big leagues. He knew he was taking the sport he loved to a whole new level and he was prepared for that.

He was prepared for his rookie year.

He wasn’t prepared to fall in love with you.

More than that, he wasn’t prepared to fall in love and not fucking realise it. Especially when you were his fucking roommate.

Though, when he thought about it, the signs from the universe directing you onto his life path was there long before his first game as a New Jersey Devil.

“Have you signed for a place yet?” Luke had asked him during the summer, somewhere in the days between wakeboarding and sunbathing and enjoying the freedom of his last stress-free summer before he entered the professional league.

“I’ve got a few potential options but it’s fine,” Ethan had replied, dozing off on the sunlounger with his eyes closed beneath his sunglasses. “I’ve got time before training camp starts. There’s no rush.”

And honestly? It was his own stupid ignorance that led to the karma of his current situation.

“We do apologise, Mr Edwards, but there is nothing we can do. The building manager won’t be able to fix the problems before your move in date and we have no available lots to accommodate you until the problems are solved.”

Ethan tried to let the woman’s soothing voice calm him, but it was hard to find any peace in the words she was saying. “So, I’m homeless?”

“Once again, we do apologise for the inconvenience but the apartment is completely inhabitable.”

Because of fucking course he would find himself scrambling for last minute accommodation in Jersey, days before he was meant to meet his new team and start settling in to his rookie year. The universe couldn’t be too nice to him, not in the year he knew was going to be one of the roughest of his life.

So, he did what any sane person would do and had a total breakdown on the phone to his mother. And then he called Luke, feeling somewhat spiteful that the boy jinxed his luck earlier that summer. The least he could do is help him out now.

After Luke had spent the first five minutes laughing because, in his words, “who the fuck has a rat infested apartment in Jersey?”

“Can you help me or not?” Ethan sighed, fingers pressed against his temples in hopes it would ease the ache that had been lingering behind his eyes since he first picked up the phone from the estate agent that morning.

“I mean, I’m sure Nico or one of the other guys wouldn’t mind taking you in. Jack stayed with—” Luke started but a distressed noise from Ethan cut him short.

“Yeah but Jack was, like, eighteen. I’m meant to be a fucking college graduate,” Ethan grumbled, his cheeks burning. “What impression would that set for the guys on the team?”

Luke paused. “You’re absolutely reading far too much into this.”

Ethan scoffed. “I think my reaction is justified.”

“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled under his breath before sighing. “I have a friend that was looking for a roommate, actually. You could always stay with them until your place is sorted. The apartment isn’t too far from the rink.”

“Someone on the team?”

“No, someone else.”

Ethan blinked. “You have friends outside of hockey? Outside of me?”

“Yes, Ethan, I have other friends. You aren’t my only friend.”

“You think you know people and they stab you in the back,” Ethan sighed, far too dramatically (in Luke’s opinion).

“Look, do you want the place or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan quickly spoke up. “That would be perfect. Send me your friend’s number.”

Now, when Luke had told Ethan that he had a friend—a non-hockey friend, at that—that was looking for a roommate, he wasn’t exactly sure what or who was expecting. He didn’t like to make assumptions on people when he knew little to nothing about them. It didn’t feel polite.

But he feels like he’s pretty fucking justified in feeling duped by the youngest Hughes brother when he finds out his new roommate isn’t a guy at all.

In Ethan’s opinion, that feels like pretty fucking important information to reveal before he shows up at your door with his car down below packed up with bags and boxes down in the carpark.

Because now, he looks like a fucking idiot when you open the door and he is left standing there, frozen and mouth open like a fish whilst every English word is thrown out of his head.

“You must be Ethan,” you said eventually, because Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to speak after a painful thirty seconds. “Luke’s friend?”

“Uh yeah,” he cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by his reaction with blushing cheeks. “Thank you so much, by the way. You’re really doing me a huge favour.”

“Luke said you were desperate.”

Ethan wanted to disagree but he couldn’t. Not really.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he tried to laugh off, though your face remained mostly unimpressed. “So—”

“Your room is the one on the left. Your bathroom is right next door. Three cupboards have been emptied for you in the kitchen and you have the top shelves in the fridge,” you stated, so matter-of-factly that Ethan could only blink in response. “Any questions?”

“No?”

“Great,” and with that, you wandered further into the apartment, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway dumbfounded.

…

OCTOBER

It didn’t take long for Ethan to realise you had some walls around you, and small talk was certainly not the way to get past them.

It was a shift to the roommates he was used to, fresh out of college and having spent the better part of the last four years staying with some of his closest friends and teammates. But it wasn’t totally unwelcome on his part. It was kind of nice to have a space that wasn’t so…hockey.

And it helped that he had his own space.

September passed in the blink of an eye and soon training camp became the real deal. It felt surreal to think he was really in the NHL now, that he was a professional hockey player, that this was his job and his livelihood now.

But it also felt fucking great.

The schedule of an NHL player was no joke and it was certainly not something Luke exaggerated—despite what Ethan assumed during the summer. It was intense and tiring and he didn’t have much time to think about anything else.

Except maybe his ice cold, standoffish roommate.

As the regular season began, Ethan had come to a few conclusions.

One: you were not a morning person, especially before having any form of caffeine. That was something he learnt the hard way.

Early morning practices were nothing new to Ethan. He wasn’t exactly an early bird, but his body had trained itself to familiarise itself with the early mornings after years and years of playing hockey. It was the norm for him, to be awake as the sun started peeking through the horizon and the rest of the world was about to wake up.

He wouldn’t call himself chipper, not really. He was just as energetic as he normally is.

You seemed to disagree.

“Morning, stranger!” Ethan greeted you as you shuffled into the kitchen, with a boyish grin on his face and a spatula in hand.

You didn’t even glance at him as you shuffled towards the fridge.

“Not a morning person, got it,” Ethan nodded, biting back his smile as you turned to glare at him.

“It’s half six in the morning,” you grumbled. “Why are you so loud?”

“My mum says it’s a part of my charm.”

You didn’t look very amused in response.

The following mornings seemed to fit the same routine. Even on the days he didn’t have practice or meetings, Ethan would find himself waking up early and starting his day around the same time you would be up for work. He would be chatty, you would look like you wanted to gauge his eyes out. It was oddly comforting.

Somewhere in the middle of the second week of this fixed routine, he began to feel confident enough in watching your routine to know exactly what you needed the second you walked out your room.

“Good morning!”

You blinked, staring at the steaming mug he was currently offering you. It took you a few seconds to process the sight before you realised you hadn’t spoken.

“What’s this?” You questioned, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Coffee. Made exactly the way you like it.” Ethan stayed confidently, his grin widening as you took a sip and let out an appreciative hum.

“Thanks,” was all you said before shuffling around the kitchen to continue with the rest of his routine.

On the days he was in Jersey, there was always a coffee cup waiting for you every morning.

Two: you were always cold. Always. No matter what the temperature was outside.

In all honesty, Ethan didn’t get it at all. From what he had gathered in his conversations with you and what Luke told him, you had spent a fair chunk of your life in New Jersey so, if he was being honest, he thought you would have been somewhat used to the colder temperatures.

But walking into the apartment after afternoon practice to find you bundled on the couch like you were in a blizzard told Ethan that assumption was far from the truth.

“Did the heating break?” was the first thing he asked when he saw you, a wave of concern washing over him as he dumped his bags at the door and made his way to the thermostat.

“No,” you murmured from somewhere in the pile of blankets. “S’just cold.”

Ethan paused, reading the thermostat before turning back to you with an amused expression on his face. “It’s kinda warm for Jersey in October today.”

There was a bit of rustling before your head popped up from amongst the blankets, your eyes narrowed in accusation. “Not all of us are professional athletes sweating their asses off for two hours.”

“In an ice rink,” he added with a grin.

Your glare hardened.

“Do you want a hot water bottle?”

You paused for a few moments before nodding with a sheepish expression. “Please.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh before he made his way into the kitchen, kettle filled and turned on before he went to hunt down the hot water bottle he was pretty sure his mother had packed away somewhere in his stuff when he moved away from Michigan.

He returned a few minutes later, lightly nudging the pile of blankets until your face popped up again and your eyes softened at the hot water bottle. He couldn’t help but giggle at the way you quickly snatched it from him, murmuring your thanks as it disappeared under the blankets.

“Any time,” Ethan said, and he meant it.

Three: you really didn’t open up to strangers. Or roommates. Or anyone, really.

He wasn’t exactly sure how Luke Hughes of all people managed to wiggle his way into a friendship with you, but it was an anomaly that had been wracking his brain for the last few weeks.

It was a week or so before Halloween and he was laying on the couch, his brows furrowed together as he tried to scroll through the internet for an idea of what he could wear to the Halloween party one of the boys were hosting.

“Why do you look constipated?”

His head snapped up, finding you standing at the end of the couch. You had two smoothies in your hand, the bag you take to your classes still on your shoulder and your shoes still on. He briefly glanced at the time, frowning a little when he realised he had been sitting there for the better part of two hours before he turned back to you.

“Trying to figure out a last minute Halloween costume,” he told you, eyebrows raised in surprise as you handed him one of the smoothies. He smiled as he took it, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp before you settled down on the other side of the couch. “I wanted to do something with Seamus and Luke but Seamus said he had his sorted and Luke said he was doing a joint costume with someone else.”

“Oh yeah, me,” you answered casually and Ethan tried to hide his shock.

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah?” You responded, giving him an odd look. “Luke always invites me to these things. He’s also hopeless with costumes.”

“I didn’t realise you and Luke were so…close,” he said vaguely, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised what his words sounded like. “Not that it’s any of my business—”

“You’re right, it’s not.” You shrugged, taking a long sip from your smoothie before continuing. “But he’s one of my closest friends.”

Ethan nodded, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at your words. “How did you two meet?”

“The strip club.”

Ethan blanched.

“Geez, you’re more gullible than Luke,” you commented, the hint of a smile on your lips. “You ask a lot of questions, Edwards.”

“I’m a nosy person,” he answered honestly with a shrug. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Because there isn’t much to it.”

And, in your defence, he knew you didn’t owe him any answers. But he was curious and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around how close you and Luke were—close enough for you to willingly accept one of Luke’s friends as your roommate for an indefinite amount of time.

And, at the crux of it, he didn’t understand how Luke was able to get through to you when he couldn’t.

Ethan was never one to brag but he was a magnet for people. It helped him thrive in hockey, always willing to be that guy on the team that people feel like they could always talk to. It helped him thrive at university, being a social butterfly that could always make a friend in any situation.

It usually helped.

So yeah, maybe Ethan was a little stumped why you didn’t seem to want to be his friend, not in the way you were with Luke and some of the other guys on the team. It seemed like being your roommate added a wall he didn’t know how to break down.

And when the Halloween party happened, it felt like seeing a whole new person when you were chatting and laughing with Luke.

You looked more at ease as you stood next to him, happily sipping on whatever drink he had gotten for you from the kitchen. You seemed more relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you laughed at whatever joke Curtis had made at Luke’s expense.

It fuelled a fire for Ethan, one he hadn’t realised had been started before that night. But he didn’t just want to be your roommate anymore, he didn’t like having that wall between you.

He wanted to be your friend too.

…

NOVEMBER

Three months into the NHL told Ethan that it was really no joke.

He was expecting the more intense training and physical playing. He was expecting his body to feel more tired, more hungry, more sore. He was expecting the ruthless journalists and vocal fans and tougher coaches.

He wasn’t expecting the mental toll of realising that hockey was all he had in his life.

It was stupid to complain about, considering it was his dream and all, but it was true. Hockey was his whole world right now. He woke up thinking about hockey, he went to the rink thinking about hockey, he made his dinner thinking about hockey, and then he went to sleep thinking about hockey.

Nine times out of ten, he dreamt about hockey too.

It was different to the hockey he knew growing up, or the hockey he experienced in Michigan. Because at least in Michigan, there were classes or parties or concerts or something to take his mind off hockey.

But it wasn’t the same in New Jersey.

There were hangouts with Luke and Seamus, or team bonding sessions organised by Nico. There were drinks at the bar after a good game to celebrate, or a particularly bad one they needed cheering up after. There were fun trips around cities he had never properly explored when they were away on roadies.

But it was all still linked to hockey.

And he guessed he wasn’t great at hiding his conundrum when Nico skated up beside him near the end of practice, throwing out the offer to grab a coffee and chat after they finished their debrief with the coaching staff.

For what it was worth, Nico didn’t think he sounded stupid when he explained himself. If anything, the captain was quite understanding.

“I had it when I first moved,” he had confessed as they sat in some urban coffee shop in a part of the city Ethan hadn’t properly explored before. But Nico swore up and down it had the best coffee to offer. “I was young and I was here for hockey so I thought my whole life had to be hockey.”

“What changed?” Ethan asked, hands wrapped around the big mug his latte was in like it would give him something to do, something to focus on rather than the restless itch under his skin.

“The older guys,” Nico said with a knowing smile. “The ones that learnt how to balance life and hockey. The ones with wives and families and friends outside of the team.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed together. “You think I should go get married?”

“Not right away,” Nico laughed, shaking his head. “But I know how easy it is to get wrapped up in the rookie year nonsense and everything. And you should be enjoying that, for sure. But there’s more to life than hockey, which is quite hard to believe right now. But it’s true, whether it’s a wife—or husband—and family or a hobby or a group of friends you can be a different Ethan with.”

Ethan nodded, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. “Hobbies?”

“Yeah, something different to hockey,” Nico explained. “Something that doesn’t require you to give up too much time and take your focus away from hockey, but instead be a respite from everything. Like cooking!”

He blinked. “Cooking?”

“You cook right now because you have to and you follow the diet plan the trainers give you. But you can find enjoyment in cooking because you want to,” Nico assured him, leaning back in his chair with a sure expression. “Give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

As it turns out, the worst that could happen is that Ethan is a fucking horrible cook.

He tried to hold back his coughs, waving the tea towel aimlessly under the beeping fire alarm before he raced to the windows in hopes they would help get rid of the smoke. Or at least get the alarm to stop.

The one meal outside of his diet plan and he almost burned the apartment complex down trying to cook it.

Go figure.

He had collapsed on the couch an hour later, two pizza boxes lying on the table in front of him as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone. He didn’t lift his head when he heard the front door lock turning but did freeze when he heard you cough a little.

“Fuck, why does it smell like a shitty barbeque in here?”

Ethan turned to you, a sheepish expression on his face as he lifted one of the pizza boxes as a peace offering. “Does pizza count as a ‘sorry for almost burning the place down’ gift?”

You eyed the pizza box and then his face before you took the seat next to him. “Normally I would say no but you look like you had a pretty rough time, so I’ll accept it this time.”

“Geez, thanks,” Ethan snorted.

“What were you even trying to cook anyways?” You questioned, taking a silence of margarita pizza and taking a large bite. You resisted the urge to let out a moan. “Fuck, I’m glad whatever it was. I couldn’t be bothered cooking today.”

“Rough shift?” Ethan asked.

“Bitchy manager was on tonight,” you added with a grumble.

“Fucking Jerry,” Ethan tsked, shaking his head.

You turned to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m delaying. There’s a difference,” Ethan corrected.

You hummed. “Okay, so why are you delaying?”

Ethan shrugged, turning his attention to the pizza box open on the coffee table in front of him. “S’stupid, no big deal. Promise.”

You were silent for a few moments before you spoke. “Is this the point where I take the bait and beg for you to tell me why you’re upset?”

He snorted, but it at least wrangled a smile out of him. “I’m not stressed. Just…overwhelmed.”

“With hockey?” You asked, but there was no malice or teasing in your voice. Just curiosity.

“I know this is what I wanted but it’s just…so much. I’ve never had hockey be everything in my life, there was always something else. And now I feel like I’m drowning and no matter how much I keep kicking, I’m no closer to the surface. And the older guys seem so put together and I was trying to take their advice but it isn’t really working out and—” Ethan paused, his cheeks flushing a light pink colour when he realised he had begun rambling. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you replied and he was almost shocked to see the sincerity on your face. “It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed. It’s a big jump. It would be weirder if you weren’t more stressed.”

He swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you began, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table as you turned your body on the couch until you were facing him. “Your life will never be normal again. You’ve been shoved into the spotlight and you will continue to be there forever. That’s overwhelming as fuck. And you’re trying to catch up with a bunch of guys who have been here for years, who have had seasons to figure out who they are and who they want to be. It was always going to be an uphill battle.”

Something in his chest warmed at your understanding.

“Guess I have a lot to look forward to then, huh?” He tried joking because it felt easier than trying to say the words that were getting stuck in the back of his throat.

“I get it,” you explained with a small nod. “Not at the same level, but I get it. Every day I wake up and I know I’m working towards the thing I want to do for the rest of my life but, fuck, some days are just harder than others. I feel like I’m sacrificing so much of my ‘best years’ doing this and sometimes I just…wonder if it’s worth it.”

“That’s intense,” Ethan murmured with his lips turned downwards.

You gave him a sad smile. “Life can be overwhelming in a lot of ways. It’s just about finding things that help us…destress, I guess.”

“Which is hard to do when you’re a rookie in the NHL who doesn’t know who the fuck he is anymore or a student spending every free moment working her ass off in a shitty job with a shitty manager to pay for college,” Ethan added with a sorrowful smile of his own.

“Bingo,” you snorted.

“So,” Ethan sighed as he settled back against the couch. “What’s our game plan?”

You raised your brows. “Game plan?”

“Yeah, what are we gonna do to destress? We can help each other,” Ethan stated like it was obvious. “Like a ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ situation.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not scratching your back.”

Ethan tilted his head, a grin on his lips. “So I’m assuming massages are off the table too?”

His laugh echoed through the apartment as you threw a pillow at his face.

If Ethan was being completely honest, he didn’t think finding a destressing hobby would be so…stressful.

He had tried asking a few other guys on the team for inspiration and advice. It hadn’t been as successful as he had hoped. Though, at least he knew a handful of weird facts about the boys he played with, so it wasn’t completely useless. Team bonding and all that jazz.

But the hobby-searching was starting to reach a point where he thought about it more than hockey.

He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with him. So many of the guys on the team had shared the hobbies they had outside of hockey to help relax. He even spoke to some of the UMich boys that had joined the NHL before him for some advice too. But nothing really clicked, nothing shut his brain off.

Golfing was too time-consuming to enjoy during the regular season. The mediocre attempt at knitting resulted in a massive knotted ball of yarn being chucked into the bin. He tried reading but got bored after the first few chapters. And it felt a bit pathetic and mind-numbing (the bad kind) when he found himself watching the third episode in a row of some trashy reality TV show that had been playing.

Nothing was giving him that relief and that step away from the busy, hectic schedule an NHL player brought.

“You got a new potential hobby for us?”

Ethan lifted his head to see you closing the front door behind you, bundled in about five layers of clothing you were slowly deshedding before you made your way over to him. He watched as your eyes went to the mess on the coffee table, your lips pressed together to hold back your laugh.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, tilting your head like it would help you figure out the little project he had been working on since you left for your class a few hours ago.

“It’s meant to be a model plane,” Ethan sighed, a tad too dramatic before he turned to you with a pout on his face. “Johnny said it was easy. He used to do them when he was, like, ten years old. I think he is lying to me.”

You snorted. “Or maybe he followed the instructions.”

Ethan frowned. “There’s instructions?”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughs as you settled on the couch beside him. There was a hint of deja vu to that day a few weeks ago—the day Ethan likes to believe the start of your buddying friendship began.

“You’ll find something,” you reassured him, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“I think some of the guys are just messing with me with some of the hobbies they suggest,” Ethan confessed. “Curtis does not seem like a knitter at all.”

You laughed. “Yeah no, he was definitely messing with you.”

“Knew it,” Ethan grumbled before shrugging. “Seamus thinks I’m just being dramatic.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” you retorted.

He shot you a look but you didn’t seem too bothered by his glare.

“He thinks I just need to get laid,” Ethan murmured, his eyes settling back on the lump on the coffee table that was supposed to resemble a plane.

“So why don’t you?”

Ethan blinked as he turned back to you. “Why don’t I, what?”

“Why don’t you just go get laid?” You asked, turning your body slightly so you were properly facing him. “Are you a virgin?”

Ethan startled. “What? No. No, I’m not a virgin.”

“Then I can’t imagine it would be too difficult for you to find someone.”

“Thanks?” Ethan frowned a little before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, s’just a little much right now. I don’t really wanna go and sleep with anyone. And I’m a little too busy to properly start something with someone, you know? It wouldn’t be fair on them if I was…flaky.”

“What if we slept together?”

Ethan let out a choked noise of surprise.

You gave him an odd look. “What?”

“Us? Sleep together? Like sex?” Ethan blurted out, his voice a little more high pitched than usual.

“Well, I don’t mean just having a sleepover,” you answered with a shrug.

His brows furrowed together. “Would it not be…weird?”

“No, why would it be?” You retorted, sounding so sure of yourself. “I’m busy, you’re busy. I guess you’re attractive and if you find me attractive too, I don’t see what the issue is. It’s convenient for us both.”

His eyes narrowed. “You guess I’m attractive?”

“This is not the time for your ego,” you huffed, though he could see your lips twitching upwards.

“No no, this is the perfect time for my ego,” Ethan started, his back straightening as he sat up in his seat.

“Are you in or not?”

His eyes dropped down to your lips for a few moments before returning to your eyes. “Y-Yeah, I’m in.”

…

DECEMBER

As it would turn out, it was far from weird. It was actually pretty fucking great.

The awkward tension Ethan expected to rise from the first time you two slept together didn’t actually happen. The next day, everything was back to normal and, if it weren’t for the hickeys dotted over his torso, he would have assumed he dreamt the whole thing up.

It was surprisingly refreshing. The buddying friendship between you and Ethan continued to grow as the days passed, just like he wanted, there was just also the added bonus that sometimes the two of you fucked to let off some steam.

And as much as it pained him to say, Seamus was right. He just needed to get laid. He just needed to go back to something he knew he would always be good at, that didn’t take up too much space in his brain and felt as natural as breathing to him.

He just needed to feel someone else’s body pressed up against him, whispered moans of his name doing more to help shut up that voice in the back of his head far better than the crowds of fans screaming and chanting his name.

He was really missing out for all these with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

“Ethan.”

“Hm?”

“We can’t.”

“I think we can,” he murmured against your neck, his smile pressed against your skin as he placed a line of chaste kisses just below your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered close as his large hand splayed against your stomach, fingers brushing over your heated skin as he settled on the bed behind you. “You’re gonna miss your bus,” you managed to mutter out, a little breathless as you felt him rolling his hips against your ass.

“They won’t leave without me,” he assured you as he tugged you further back into him. Your panties had been kicked off somewhere under the sheets, not that either of you cared enough to give it a second thought. It just made it easier for Ethan to slip his hand between your legs, to listen to the choked noise of surprise you let out when his finger pressed on your clit.

“That’s not how it works,” you murmured, letting out a whine when he stilled his hand between your legs, focusing on marking the spot at the base of your neck that made your arch against him. “You’re gonna miss the bus and the team will be annoyed and you’re gonna—”

“Shhhh,” Ethan mumbled against your skin. “Too much talking.”

“Ethan.”

He let out a groan, his head dropping to your shoulder where he pressed a soft kiss there before lifting his head to shoot you a look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured with a snort. “It’s a seven day roadie. You’ll survive.”

“Maybe I’m really stressed about it,” he shot back. “Maybe a quickie before I leave would help me destress.”

You shook your head in amusement. “You’d be a lot less stressed if you weren’t thirty minutes late already.”

Ethan’s head snapped over to the clock on your bedside table. “Shit.”

“Told you so!” You called out as he scrambled his way towards the bathroom for the quickest shower of his life.

“Shut up!”

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?” Ethan questioned, leaning down to lace up his skates with the efficiency of a man who had spent the better part of his life in ice skates. He didn’t notice the shit-eating grin on Luke’s face until he sat back up and found the boy staring at him. “What?”

“Well, either the rats from your old apartment have found your new place and decided to take revenge or there’s a different reason for the marks on your back,” Luke retorted with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Marks are an understatement,” Seamus snorted, sitting on the stall on the other side of Ethan. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being stuck between the two of them. “Your back is mauled, dude. Who did you sleep with, a werewolf?”

“No,” Ethan scoffed, his cheeks burning red. “Don’t be jealous you can’t get the same reaction out of a girl.”

“So there’s a girl?” Luke chimed in, like the little nosey shit he was.

“Maybe,” Ethan answered vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just a casual thing. Nothing serious.”

“Glad you finally took my advice,” Seamus grinned.

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“What’s her name?” Luke asked.

To be fair, you and Ethan never discussed the logistics of your situation beyond the actual sex part. He enjoyed the little bubble the two of you shared in your apartment. It was like the two of you forgot there were other people, that the signs would be there for people to pick up on. And he wasn’t exactly sure if it was something you would want people to know, even Luke.

He tried to bargain with himself that it wasn’t serious so there was no need for Luke or the other boys to know. You two were just scratching an itch for each other, that’s it. You were still friends at the end of the day, he didn’t want to ruin that because other people thought there was something more serious.

Ethan shrugged. “Uh, you don’t know her.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “So surely it doesn’t matter if we know her name or not.”

“It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything,” Ethan retorted, squirming a little under Luke’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Coach wants us out in five minutes.”

“Subtlety is not your forte, Edwards,” Luke snorted in response.

The roadie ends up being a complete shit show.

Three games and they lost every single one of them. Three games and the loss just got worse with each game, with the final game being an embarrassing 5-1 loss. And all the boys were upset and annoyed about the results, but Ethan felt like he was going to lose his mind.

His suit felt uncomfortable and itchy against his body, like some foreign layer he desperately wanted to shed. His skin felt taut and stretched across his bones, the urge to claw at his skin so overwhelming that he forced himself to focus on picking the skin around his nails instead because it was less likely to get him odd looks from the other boys.

He had ignored Luke and Seamus’ attempts at pep-talks in the locker room, both boys seeming determined to try and reassure him the loss was not his fault—like it would stop the fumbled plays playing on a loop in his head. He watched Nico climb onto the bus, eyeing the empty seat next to him but he wasn’t in the mood to be babysat by his captain. He put his bag on the chair next to him and put his headphones on, pretending he couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes on him.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when they finally arrived back in New Jersey, but he didn’t care to know. He didn’t give anyone a chance to pull him back for a chat. He grabbed his bags and bolted to his car, wanting nothing more than to get out of his suit and just mope in his bed until practice in a few days.

Ethan wasn’t expecting for you to still be awake.

He jumped when he spotted you on the couch, the TV still on but on mute as it played some random sitcom he couldn’t quite remember the name of. His eyes wandered over your figure, huddled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs and a Devils branded hoodie he didn’t quite know whether it was one of your own or one of his. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” you spoke up, breaking the weird, tense silence that seemed to be suffocating the apartment since he walked in.

“We left just after the game,” he replied, his voice a little raspy considering it was the first time he had spoken since the end of the game. “Boys wanted to get home.”

You nodded. “M’glad you’re back. The place is pretty quiet without you.”

It was lighthearted. It was an opening for him to plaster on a smile and pretend he was okay. It was a chance for him to escape the same awkward conversations he avoided from his teammates.

But he was tired—the bone deep kind—and he didn’t have it in himself to keep pretending. Not in front of you.

“I’m not sure I’m feeling very talkative right now,” he admitted, swallowing back the acidic taste in his mouth, the one that had been lingering since he stepped on the bus with all his disappointed teammates.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you reassured him as you patted the spot on the couch beside you. “We can just sit in absolute silence if you want.”

“I’m not sure I want that either,” he confessed as his body slumped against the couch, melting into the fabric as he tried to ignore the constant buzzing voices in his head. “Just wanna forget the last week, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” you hummed in agreement. “The refs were biassed dicks anyways. It wasn’t fair.”

He turned his head to look at you, his surprise clearly expressed on his face. “You watched?”

“I did,” you gave him a soft smile. “It wasn’t a pretty sight. I’m surprised the neighbours didn’t make a noise complaint against me when they put Luke in the box.”

And despite himself, he couldn’t help but snort. “They had it out for him and Jack.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Dicks.”

His lips twitched upwards. “Dicks indeed.”

Ethan let his head fall back against the back of the couch, let the exhaustion settle in as his eyes fluttered shut and, for the first time in the last week, let himself have some semblance of relaxation even if his brain was still on overdrive.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” you started and his body instantly tensed up at your words. And maybe you would feel his body lock up, considering his thigh was pressed against yours and the couch wasn’t all that big either. “But I am here if you want to talk. Have someone who’s not on the team to listen to you.”

He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “Just feel like I let them down.”

“You didn’t,” your voice soft but sincere. “And I bet the boys would agree.”

“I just…” he let out a sigh, keeping his eyes closed because it somehow made the next few sentences easier to say out loud. “I know no one likes losing. I would be a pretty bad professional athlete if I liked losing. But, I don’t know, it just…sucks more now.”

“Because the stakes are higher?”

“Because there’s more people seeing my mistakes,” he murmured, his words short and sharp. “This is all unreal. Being able to live out my dream and play in the NHL. But every time I make a mistake, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m waiting for someone to tell me it’s all a joke or I have been moved down or I get dropped and that’s the end of my career.”

There was a short pause.

“I’m scared it’s all gonna be for nothing.”

He wasn’t sure what response he expected. Truthfully, he had no intentions of ever telling you any of this. Or anyone for that matter. He had no intentions of ever saying the words out loud, letting them fester and swirl around in the back of his mind when he was left with his thoughts alone for too long.

And yet, he had just blurted them out to you.

Maybe he was more tired than he realised.

“Why did you keep playing hockey?”

Ethan frowned a little, his eyes blinking back open as he turned to look at you again. “What?”

“Why did you keep playing hockey?” You asked again, something swirling in your eyes but he couldn’t quite work out what. “It’s one thing to be a fan. You’re Canadian so I guess you kinda have to be. And I assume your parents put you into lessons. But why did you keep up with it? Why did you keep playing?”

“Because I love the sport,” he answered without any hesitation.

“Exactly, you love the sport,” you repeated with a soft smile on your lips. “It’s why you stayed. It’s why you play the next game even if you lost the last one. It’s why it’s your dream, why you kept working towards the NHL. And even after the shit show of the roadie, it’s why you will go out and play the next game.”

Ethan stayed silent but he didn’t move his eyes away from yours.

“It’s normal to have doubts. It’s normal to second guess yourself and assume the worst and let yourself spiral,” you continued. “It’s your rookie year. It isn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t easy for Luke, for Seamus, for any of the boys. But you love the sport and the sport loved you back. Even on the bad days.”

“That was poetic,” he murmured, his voice a little raspy and thick with emotion.

“I was great at English in school,” you retorted with a grin. “You’re allowed to feel scared. And you’re allowed to be upset after you lose. But you’re a part of the team, nobody is putting the loss on your shoulders and you shouldn’t either. It’s your weight to bear together.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Did Nico message you?”

You snorted, and something about the sound made his chest tighten. In a good way, though.

“No, but considering how fast you got here, I would be wary that he will probably show up tomorrow morning to take you for a coffee check up,” you murmured. “Or he will corner you in the locker room.”

Ethan nodded. “Thank you. For listening and stuff.”

You flashed him a smile as you nudged his shoulder with your own. “That’s what friends are for.”

It was almost ironic that Ethan had spent the last few months working towards the title of your friend, only to feel almost disappointed when you said it.

Nico had been the one to organise the New Years Party.

All the boys from the team were there. There were other Devils employees from the marketing, media and training teams. There were friends and friends-of-friends. There were people he had never met before.

But it was a party and the buzz of the new year was humming through them all, and somewhere amongst it all, someone had suggested a game of truth or dare.

Ethan thinks it was Curtis, who was just drunk and nosy and a bit bored.

“Right, Baby Hughes, you gotta pick!”

Luke let out a groan, slumping into the person next to him—a chuckling John Marino who seemed amused by the glint in Curtis’ eyes—before nodding. “I feel targeted.”

Curtis grinned. “Never.”

“You’ve asked me every single time,” Luke grumbled under his breath, cheeks tinted pink and warm. “Surely this is against the rules. Right, Cap?”

Nico raised his hands in surrender. “Do not drag me into this!”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So much for looking out for your boys.”

“Pick someone else before he starts getting whiny,” Jack called out, grinning widely as he dodged Luke’s elbow to his side. “I don’t wanna hear him bitching on the way back home.”

“Fine, fine,” Curtis snorted, eyes scanning over the busy room before his eyes paused on Ethan. “Alright, Edwards, rookie’s turn. Truth or dare.”

Ethan straightened a little, something determined in his eyes. “Truth,” he answered with a grin. “I’ve been warned of your dares.”

“Smart,” Jesper coughed under his breath.

“Truth, he says,” Curtis mused as he sat back in his seat, contemplative and cunning before he spoke again.

“Play nice,” Nico teased.

“Cap’s orders,” Curtis hummed before he spoke. “Alright then, rookie, fess up. Which teammate is your least favourite? Name and shame.”

Ethan blinked. “This feels like a trap.”

“Oh, it certainly is,” Ondrej snorted.

“Don’t take him seriously,” Luke spoke up, leaning his head back to catch Ethan’s gaze. “He did the same to me and Simon. And Seamus last year. It’s his thing.”

Ethan raised his brows. “Is there a right answer?”

“Hey, no cheating!” Curtis called out.

“Maybe my answer is you,” Ethan called back teasingly.

“Oh, pretty boy has some fire,” the older man laughed, happily and drunkenly but it seemed enough to satisfy him before Nico was rounding everyone around for the midnight countdown.

The funny thing was that Ethan always knew that hockey was a team sport and every team he had ever played on—from the peewee team he played on as a kid to the boys he played with in UMich—every single one of them felt like a family, a place where he belonged and a team he loved both on and off ice.

The Devils had been another one of those teams—his newest family. It had been terrifying, a lingering thought in the back of his head since he had been drafted. Every team he played for before were teams he would move on from, stepping stones in his dreams. But the NHL was at the top and he didn’t want to fuck that up. He didn’t want to feel left out from his new family.

The Devils family had welcomed him with open arms.

He truly couldn’t complain. He felt a connection with these boys on and off the ice, he felt like the newest member in this patchwork family that was really cared for. Even now, as the seconds ticked down to midnight, there was warmth and camaraderie in the air as they welcomed the new year.

And yet, it was the most devastating loneliness he had ever felt in his life.

Because the clock struck twelve and the cheers echoed through the house and yet, his eyes were searching in the crowd of people. Searching for the one person he wanted by his side. Searching for the first person he has ever had the urge to kiss into the new year.

Because Ethan Edwards spent breaking in the new year wishing he was beside you.

…

JANUARY

New Years opened his eyes in ways that he hadn’t really considered before.

Unfortunately, eye opening nights are a bit difficult to focus on when you’re a professional athlete in the NHL hitting January in your rookie year. Because they were only half way through the regular season in one of the most physically and mentally intense years of his life, and he was a bit too fucking tired to have emotional epiphanies.

Which was fine if it weren’t for the fact he was currently in the middle of drills and his brain was definitely not focused on hockey.

“Edwards!”

Ethan blinked, his body moving before his brain could properly catch up. He had never been more grateful for the military-routine of drills he had been doing for as long as he had been skating.

His muscles were screaming by the time the boys were starting to head back into the locker room, laughing and shoving each other and discussing strategies for the game against the Sabres the following day. But he lingered behind, stick twisting in his hand as he tapped a few pucks closer to the net.

He had tried not to stare at the person lingering on the ice behind him, watching him, observing him.

He managed five shots before the person spoke up.

“You should lower your right hand a little,” Jack called out, lingering at the blue line. “It will help with the shot.”

His next shot hit the back corner perfectly.

Ethan straightened his back, nodding a little before glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Jack responded, taking it as his cue to skate closer towards him. “You good? You should be getting some rest before the game tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just…wanted some extra practice on my shots,” Ethan said, shrugging his shoulders. “It needs some work.”

Jack nodded. “You’re having a good year.”

“Could be better,” Ethan retorted before he could stop himself. It was meant to be lighthearted, playful even. Instead, it came out a little self-deprecating and he winced at himself.

“It gets better,” Jack assured him, his expression a little softer. “The rookie year is always the worst, the media attention and expectations and everything. But it gets better when you find yourself, find your footing.”

“I know,” he murmured because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Nobody really talked about Jack’s rookie year. Not in much detail, not beyond a few comments here and there he had heard over the years in the lakehouse.

He was more than grateful that his own rookie year wasn’t anything like Jack’s.

“Enjoy it,” Jack continued, a kind expression on his face. It wasn’t hard to work out why Jack was given the ‘A’ on his jersey. “I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let the critics get to you too much. They just wanna put pressure on you, make you squirm.”

And oh.

Because now Ethan was standing there, staring back at Jack like a hopeless idiot, realising he and the rest of the boys probably assumed his mood had been related to hockey. To the articles written about him. To the most likely and very reasonable explanation.

Not the fact Ethan was pretty sure he liked his friends-with-benefits roommate in a not very friends-with-benefits way.

His cheeks burned at the realisation.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded helplessly, hoping his smile didn’t look as strained as it felt. “No, you’re right. I…I’ll try to really enjoy it. Not get in my own head too much.”

“Good,” Jack smiled back at him, all sweet and genuine and making him feel like a bit of a dick. “I’m here if you ever need a chat, you know? And I’m better at giving advice than Luke.”

Ethan snorted. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

The issue was that despite his eye-opening realisation, Ethan Edwards quickly realised he was a bit of a coward when it came to expressing his feelings.

Or, for that matter, confronting them.

It was odd for Ethan, if he was being completely honest with himself. Because he was usually good with these kinds of things. He knew when it was a ‘no strings attached’ situation, when to remove himself from any feelings that would compliment the matter. And he knew when it was serious, when the feelings were reciprocated, when there was something more than physical between him and the other person.

But that awareness was thrown out the window when it came to you.

It was like he had a little voice in his head, desperately trying to yell out how he felt about you until Ethan reached his breaking point and did something he couldn’t take back.

So, he did what any reasonable person did and locked that little voice away, pushed it to the back of his mind where it couldn’t bother him. And then he continued living his life like he couldn’t hear the rattling box in the background of every waking moment.

It was easy with hockey. Despite his little blip at the start of the month, he managed to prevent the annoying voice affecting his game on the ice. He stayed focused and concentrated and attentive. He managed to complete his drills and find the passes and shoot some goals so none of his teammates would catch on to his lacking grasp on his feelings.

But at home? With you? He clearly wasn’t coping as well as he thought he was.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan paused, body frozen as his brain wracked through a million different thoughts before he turned to look where you were sitting on the couch.

“Uh yeah,” he managed to blurt out, a slightly strained laugh following. “Why?”

“You’ve just seemed off the last few weeks,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. “Like, tense and stuff.”

“S’just hockey stuff,” Ethan murmured with a stiff smile, the lie tasting bitter and acidic on his tongue. “The boys have just been talking about how playoffs are sneaking up on us and I just…guess I’ve been a little in my own head about it.”

You nodded in understanding. “You need days to chill out, you know? Take your mind off hockey.”

Ethan raised his brows. “You got any suggestions, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you retorted with a knowing smile. “I do. I know exactly what you need to get out of your head.”

“You know, when you crawled onto my lap, I was expecting a very different outcome,” Ethan murmured, struggling not to move his lips too much as he focused on the concentrating expression on your face.

“Need to get your head out of the gutter, Edwards,” you teased, biting back your smile as you continued to sweep the brush across his face, careful to avoid his eyebrows while you were at it. “Facemasks are soothing and relaxing. Plus, your skin probably needs it after all the travelling you do.”

“Excuse you,” his nose scrunched. “I have a skincare routine.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, Luke told me that you ripped into Seamus after he used your fancy moisturiser.”

“It’s expensive,” he murmured in defence before the rest of your words caught up on him. “You talk about me to Luke?”

“Mostly to bitch,” you said with a lighthearted, teasing smile.

Yet, something in his chest tightened at the idea regardless.

“As long as you’re talking about me,” he shot back, something victorious washing over him at the way you laughed.

You leaned back a little, still sat on his lap with his hands on your waist to keep you balanced. You snorted at the mask covering his face before grinning. “Now, we have to keep these on for twenty minutes. And try not to move your face too much.”

Ethan ignored your words, pouting in response. “So if I asked you to make out—”

“I would tell you to fat chance,” you finished with a grin. “But I’ll admit the pink headband is really working for you.”

Ethan wiggled his eyebrows, once against ignoring the pointed look you shot him. “Enough for a kiss?”

“Enough for an episode of Pretty Little Liars,” you shot back at him, your smile widening at the sound of his groan but it still didn’t stop him from tugging you close before you could sit on the other side of the couch. “Or at least finish the one we started last night before—”

“I rocked your world?”

“Started drooling on my shoulder,” you corrected.

“That was after I made you come twice,” Ethan piped up, lightly pinching your side until you squirmed further onto his lap. “They cancel each other out.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” you snorted, eyes gleaming as you pressed play on the remote before he could come up with a witty comeback.

And, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a distant voice screaming at him to say something. Telling him this was the perfect opportunity to say something to you. To just admit how he was feeling and end the pathetic pining he had been experiencing for the last few weeks.

But the mere idea of losing this—losing you—kept his mouth shut as he finally turned his attention to the tv and pretended like his stomach didn’t twist at his own cowardice.

…

FEBRUARY

Before he knew it, they were hitting February and all the buzz in the hockey world was around All Stars.

Ethan hadn’t been too concerned about it or the discussions leading up to the reveal on which team members would be heading out for the event. His mind had been preoccupied on the season, on playoffs approaching, on you. In all honesty, All Stars hadn’t even crossed his mind until the team was being rounded up into the locker room for the announcement.

It was not too much of a surprise that Luke had been selected for the Devils (most people expected it to be one of the Hughes brothers).

However, it was a shock to hear his own name follow.

“Looks like the fans want to see more of the pretty boy,” Curtis called out, joking and teasing and, yet, it still made his cheeks burn as the boys all slapped him on the back.

“Baby’s first All Stars,” Timo cooed jokingly, reaching out to pinch his cheek but Ethan was quick to slap his hand away.

“It’s Luke’s first too,” he defended weakly, a smile on his lips as he spoke.

“At least he is losing one of his virginities,” Seamus coughed under his breath, letting out a high-pitched yelp when the younger Hughes reached to smack him across the back of his head.

“I hope you get a horrible sunburn in Mexico,” Luke retorted with a deadpan expression.

Seamus snorted. “Don’t get bitchy because your ticket is non-refundable.”

Luke reached out to slap him again but he had already run off towards the showers, laughing and shoving some of the other boys into Luke’s path to help with his escape.

Ethan shook his head in amusement.

“Enjoy it,” another voice spoke up and he turned to find Nico standing beside his stall, a kind and genuine smile on his face as he patted his shoulder. “It’s fun. Promise.”

“More fun than chilling on a beach somewhere?” Ethan retorted with a knowing smile.

“It’s up there,” Nico grinned.

“But if Michael Buble offers you anything, say no,” Jack spoke up from the other side of the locker room. “Trust me.”

“How does it feel to be with all the big boys?”

“You saying I’m not a big boy?”

“You know exactly what I meant, perv.”

It was true. Ethan knew exactly what you meant. But he could almost imagine the way you rolled your eyes when you spoke, your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows furrowed and it sent a pang of something aching through him.

It was almost too pathetic to comprehend.

All Stars was insane. Truly, absolutely, positively insane. It was one thing to watch it from the comfort of his own couch. It was a whole other thing to be a part of it. And he knew he shouldn’t be starstruck, not really. He had spent the better part of the last few months playing against some of these guys.

But being in a not-as-competitive setting with the likes of Sidney Crosby and Nathan MacKinnon was a surreal experience he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around since he arrived.

And yet, here he was, all smiley and giddy and excited over the fact you had called him. The fact that you missed him enough, that you were thinking about him enough to call him whilst he was away.

“I stand by my question,” Ethan replied, shuffling further back into the plush pillows of his hotel bed as he held his phone to his ear. “Do you not think I’m a big boy?”

“I’m not going to talk up your dick size for the sake of your ego, Edwards.”

Ethan snorted despite himself. “Worth a shot. Could have made it really hot.”

“I refuse to have phone sex with you when Luke is probably in the room.”

“He’s not here,” Ethan said quickly, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Well, he’s gone out to grab us some snacks from the store around the corner but—”

“Exactly.” His stomach dipped a little as your laugh echoed through the phone. “Now, tell me everything.”

For a moment he wondered if it would be worth trying to facetime you to see your face or if that was pushing it too far.

“What do you want to know?” He retorted, his eyes closing shut as he tried to imagine the expression on your face as you thought.

“I don’t know! The important stuff! Like if Sidney Crosby is as hot in real life?”

Ethan blinked. “That’s your big question? If he’s as hot as he is on screen?”

Your reply came with no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Wow, so we can’t talk about my dick, which has been inside of you by the way, but we can talk about whether or not Sidney Crosby is hot.” There was a pause before he sighed. “Yeah, he is. Maybe even hotter.”

“I fucking knew it.”

“So you don’t even miss me? Not even a little bit?” Ethan questioned, trying to sound playful and lighthearted, hoping the small slivers of insecurity weren’t being translated through the phone.

“Don’t start pouting on me, Edwards. Of course I miss you.” Your voice was softer, more sincere. Or at least he was deluding himself into thinking as much. “Found a show for us to watch when you’re back. It looked good but I didn’t want to start it alone.”

It was embarrassing how big his smile was. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed before gasping. “Oh god, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t believe what happened at work the other night.”

Ethan huffed. “Don’t tell me it was—”

“Yup! And you’ll never guess what she did—”

It hit Ethan in the chest when he was lying on the foreign bed in a non-descriptive hotel room, phone pressed against his ear as you rambled away. It hit him just how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed you. That it was beyond the physical attraction, that it was much deeper than a silly little crush.

It hit him how much he wanted this forever.

But he knew better to do it on the phone. He knew it had to be said face-to-face. He knew he needed you in front of him when he uttered the words. He knew he needed to be looking in your eyes when he blurted his feelings out.

So, he promised himself.

He promised himself he would do it when he headed back to New Jersey. He promised himself he would do it when he saw you. He promised himself he was just going to deal with it head on and not run away like he had been doing for the last month or two.

He promised he was not going to be a coward anymore.

It was embarrassing how quickly he threw his own promise out of the window.

Ethan was fucking exhausted by the time their plane laned back in New Jersey. It was barely even eight in the evening and he was ready to slump face first onto his bed and not get up for a few days—even if he knew they had practice the following afternoon.

But it was the principle of it all.

It was the mere exhaustion of it all.

And you took one look at him before you opened your arms, inviting him to join you on the couch. Ethan couldn’t even bring himself to feel too bad about the groan you let out as he slumped himself on top of you.

“Make sure they had good music at my funeral,” he grumbled, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.

You hummed, your hands moving on instinct to run your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel about Barbie Girl?”

“Love it,” he murmured, a soft groan leaving his lips as your nails scratched along his scalp. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, Edwards,” you whispered, soft and almost breathless. He wondered for a moment if he was leaning too heavily on your chest and winding you. “I never knew you talked in your sleep.”

Ethan froze.

“Luke sent me some interesting videos,” you continued and he could almost hear the smile in your voice. “You should really watch who you have sleepovers with.”

Ethan clenched his eyes shut, trying to nuzzle himself further into your neck. “M’gonna kill him.”

“It was just one video,” you assured him, lightly tugging his hair until he lifted his head to look at you. “Cute that you were so jealous over me liking Sidney that you started to sleep talking about it.”

His cheeks heated up. “I wasn’t jealous.”

You beamed back at him. “Uh huh, sure.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at you. “This is emotional blackmail.”

“Aw, don’t let me stop you from doing it again,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement as his cheeks burned redder. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was jealous you got to hang around him all week?”

Ethan paused before he spoke. “Yes.”

You nodded. “Then, I was deeply jealous and envious that you got to hang around Sidney Crosby, the hottest guy in the league—”

“Oh my god,” Ethan groaned as he braced his hands on either side of you, prepared to push himself off you and the couch and sulk in his room. But before he could get far, you were winding your arms and legs around him and pulling him back down. “Nuh uh, let me go. You can go cuddle with Sidney since you think he’s so hot.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you mused, choosing to be nice and not comment on the way he completely nuzzled himself back into your arms, eyes falling shut and relaxation taking over his body for the first time in a week.

“You’re a bully,” he retorted, words muffled from the way his cheek was pressed against your shoulder.

“You like it,” you retorted, keeping the banter going but it made Ethan’s head spin.

Because he did. He did like it. He liked you. He liked coming back home to you and he liked lying on the couch with you. He liked kissing you and he liked the noises you made for him when he touched you.

He liked you more than he cared to admit.

He liked you too much to lose you.

He liked what the two of you had. He liked it too much to risk losing it all over unreciprocated feelings. Feelings could change—his feelings could change. There was no need to ruin a good thing.

He had hockey to focus on. He had the team to focus on. He had playoffs to focus on.

Now was not the time to change everything, superstitions or not.

…

MARCH

March Madness was no joke.

It was pure fucking chaos and no previous league or championship he had ever played for could rival just how hectic the whole thing was. The Devils were having a good season. A great fucking season if they were being honest. And they were so, so, so fucking close to clinching that playoff spot.

But fuck if the other teams weren’t making it real fucking difficult for them.

Ethan knew that things were going to get rougher, tougher, harder when the playoff desperation started to settle in, when the end of the regular season was on the horizon and teams were starting to get dirty to extend their season.

He just underestimated how desperate they were willing to get.

It was easy to see why Nico Hishcier was so beloved by the team, by the fans, by the boys. To see why he was chosen as captain because he was nothing but supportive and determined and encouraging. He wasn’t letting them get too comfortable, he was keeping the boys working towards playing their best.

But he was also the damn proudest of them all.

It almost made the hits against the boards worth it.

Almost being the operative word seeing as he felt like his whole body was bruised as they came off a game against the Rangers.

“Fuck,” Ethan hissed as he all but waddled into the locker room, helmet in hand and skateguards on. “I think I’m bruised in places I didn’t know you could be bruised.”

Seamus snorted. “Fucking tell me about it.”

“The hit during the second period looked rough,” Luke spoke up from the stall beside him. “You sure you’re good?”

“Medical checked me over during the intermission,” Ethan assured him with a faint smile. “Just gonna be sore for the next few days.”

Luke’s eyes gleamed. “No strenuous activities then?”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Oh please,” Seamus mused, giving Luke a nudge with his elbow. “He’s a pillow princess.”

“Fuck off both of you,” Ethan snorted, already starting to peel his jersey off.

It wasn’t until he was almost dressed where he finally grabbed his phone out of his bag, turning it back on to see a flurry of notifications to take over his screen. His brows furrowed together in surprise as he skimmed over them.

“Is that a certain roommate?” Luke asked, peeking over his shoulder like the nosy shit he was but Ethan had already chucked his phone back in his bag.

“Nah, it’s just Patricia,” Ethan shrugged.

Luke blinked. “Who the fuck is Patricia?”

Ethan shot him an odd look. “Patricia, the woman from the estate agency you recommended to me.”

Luke gave him a pensive look. “Why is she blowing up your phone?”

Ethan shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

As it would turn out, Patricia was contacting him because the apartment he originally signed on for at the start of the year seemed to have sorted the rat infestation problem.

She was cheery in her voicemail she left for him, like it was the best possible news Ethan could have ever received. And maybe it would have been a few months ago, back in September. Even a good few weeks into October, Ethan would have been over the fucking moon to hear his old apartment was available again.

Yet, as he listened to the voicemail now, he couldn’t help but let a sense of dread wash over him.

It was stupid in a way because he knew from the start his situation wasn’t permanent. He knew it was always a short-term solution to a short-term problem. He knew the arrangement between you both wouldn’t last forever—both as roommates and friends with benefits.

There was always a timer on it, but Ethan let himself get lost in the familiarity of it all that the upcoming ending hit him like an unexpected slap in the face.

If he was a sensible and good guy, he would have called Patricia back. He would have told her he was just as happy to hear the update on the previously rat infested apartment. He would have told her he was happy to move in as soon as he can, to have his own place in New Jersey to call his home and his home alone. He would have told her to send over all the paperwork as soon as she can.

But Ethan wasn’t sensible nor was he all that good because he never called her back.

Instead, he chose to pretend as though he hadn’t seen the calls or the voicemails or the messages. He told himself he was focusing on clinching a playoff spot. He told himself he was just prioritising the important stuff and, for as long as he had a roof over his head, the other apartment wasn’t a priority.

Ethan chose not to acknowledge the fact that ignoring and running away from any possible problem was becoming a bit of an odd habit for him over the last few months.

As it would turn out, people failed to warn Ethan that March Madness seemed to extend into a player’s personal life.

He couldn’t quite work out the exact moment everything changed but he noticed the switch two weeks into March. And he was fucking baffled. And almost embarrassed that it took him so long to catch on to your sudden cold behaviour.

If you were giving him the cold shoulder, Ethan would have assumed he had done something to piss you off. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, the two of you had your fair share of petty roommate disagreements over the months where one of you would give the other silent treatment. But it never lasted more than an hour or so before you sat down and talked it out.

Ethan would have preferred if he was just given the silent treatment from you.

Instead, he got…whatever the hell you were doing now.

For a few days, Ethan considered that he was just being dramatic. That maybe it was something at work or in one of your classes. That eventually you’d come to him with whatever was bothering you and he would listen and this weird tension between the two of you would disappear.

He lost hope in that theory after a week.

You were talking to him, almost as normal, but there was a tinge to it. A shift. Almost like a step back. It felt like the early months as roommates, when your answers were shorter more often than not, when you treated each other as acquaintances with a mutual friend.

It felt fucking wrong.

And then there was the physical aspect.

It wasn’t like the two of you were on each other at every possible moment together. It wasn’t even about the sex. It was the way you pulled away from him like his touch burned you, like it was odd for him to casually nudge your hip with his own as he walked past you in the kitchen. It was the way you seemed to avoid sitting too close to him on the couch.

It was the way it felt like the two of you were reverting back to the awkward, polite strangers you were back in September.

He hated it but he didn’t know how to get it back when you seemed so adamant to keep him at arm’s length.

It was disorienting as fuck.

It was wrong.

It was everything he feared for.

It was almost-definitely-possibly worse than you rejecting him.

And Ethan felt like he was fucking spiralling with the realisation that he may have lost you and he wasn’t exactly sure how.

And just when Ethan craved normalcy in his life, Luke started acting weird too.

The youngest Hughes brother shut down any attempts to hang out outside of practice or training. He didn’t seem as talkative or chatty with Ethan the way he usually was, leaving most of their conversations to surround hockey or strategies or upcoming games.

Fuck, even Seamus was weirded out by Luke’s sudden change in behaviour.

It didn’t take long for the other boys in the team to notice the growing tension between the two boys. Jack kept shooting his brother weird looks. Nico seemed concerned. Even Curtis looked a bit awkward and unsure at what to say. Him, Luke and Seamus had been such a trio since Ethan joined the Devils at the start of the season.

Now it seemed like Luke tolerated him at best.

But Ethan knew Luke. He knew the way the boy would get when he was upset. He knew the way the boy tended to shut down a bit, knew that he needed the space to be moody and brood a little (the outcome of being the youngest child) before he was ready to forgive and forget and move on.

However, Luke Hughes seemed more than happy to carry out whatever grudge he was holding—even if it was affecting their game on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?”

Luke didn’t even bother turning to look at him, reaching to pull his practice jersey over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Luke,” Ethan growled, angry and frustrated and done with whatever bitchy mood he was still in. “I was open. You saw that I was open and you fucking ignored me. What if we were in a game? What if that cost us a goal?”

“It’s just a practice,” Luke shot back, deadpan and unamused. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Ethan laughed, bitter and irritated. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Luke. I don’t know what your problem with me is but it’s fucking ridiculous if you’re willing to sacrifice the team for it.”

Seamus took a step towards them. “Okay, maybe we just need—”

“No,” Ethan snapped, a buzz of adrenaline rushing through him. “No, if he has a problem with me then I want him to fucking say it instead of keeping it some secret like—some coward!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Luke snapped back at him. “You know all about secrets, Edwards.”

His brows furrowed together. “Stop fucking talking in riddles, Hughes.”

“Oh Jesus,” Seamus grumbled under his breath.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Luke hissed.

“No, I don’t!” Ethan gritted out. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about!”

“And I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore!” Luke bit back, enough hurt and anger in his voice that it left Ethan—and the rest of the locker room—silent. “I thought you were one of my closest friends. I thought you were a good guy. Clearly you’ve changed.”

Ethan frowned. “What?”

“Okay, everyone out!” Nico clapped his hands together, snapping Luke and Ethan out of their little moment as the captain began shepherding the rest of the team out.

“Aw, come on, it was just getting good!” Curtis whined but sighed as he followed the rest of the boys out of the locker room, all in various degrees of undress as they left Ethan and Luke alone.

Ethan watched them all go before he turned back to Luke, a look of hurt and pure confusion on his face.

“I helped you out,” Luke rasped, swallowing harshly. His voice was softer, a little raw too. Like the fight had left him and all that was left was disappointment. “You needed a place to stay and I convinced her to let you stay, vouched that you were a good guy, that you weren’t a fucking douche, and you had to go and fucking play her like that.”

Ethan blinked. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Ethan,” Luke muttered, his name full of frustration. “I know about the two of you. I’ve known for a while, I’m not fucking stupid.”

His heart sped up a little, despite himself. “What does our…agreement have to do with you?”

Luke shot him a look of disbelief. “Because she’s my friend! Because you’ve strung her along for months and now you don’t even have the decency to tell her you’re leaving!”

Ethan blinked again. “I—what?”

“You’re moving back to your own place and you—why do you look so confused?”

“Because I am confused!” Ethan squeaked out.

Luke slowly blinked. “So…you’re not taking Patricia up on her offer and moving out?”

“No!” Ethan replied, still looking confused. “Why would you think I am?”

“Because she keeps calling and emailing you!” Luke shot back.

“And I haven’t answered a single one!” Ethan retorted.

“Huh,” Luke murmured, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts. “Well, her emails suggest otherwise.”

Ethan tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Luke sighed, looking serious once again. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Ethan shifted in his spot. “What?”

“Are you serious about her?” Luke questioned.

Ethan frowned. “Who? Patricia?”

“I—no,” Luke sighed deeply. “Unless you’ve been sleeping with Patricia this whole time—”

“What? No, no!” Ethan spluttered out. “I have—wait, does she think I’m moving out?”

Luke looked a bit sheepish. “I think you need to go have that conversation with her.”

“Fuck,” Ethan breathed out, something quite like nausea twisting in his stomach. “And she….I’m not….I would never play her like that. It’s literally the opposite!”

Luke raised his brow. “The opposite?”

“I—fuck, I need to go,” Ethan muttered to himself under his breath, not even acknowledging the other boy as he began to yank his gear off.

“Woah, Ethan, you need to—”

“I need to fix this,” Ethan interrupted. “She can’t—I need to tell her.”

The last thing Luke—or any of the boys—saw was Ethan rushing out of the locker room, looking frazzled and flustered and panicked.

Ethan wished he could say he was calm and collected when he finally made it to your shared apartment but that would be a fucking lie.

He was a mess when he arrived. Despite driving back, he was still breathless and panting as he forgoed the elevator, choosing to take the stairs two-at-a-time until he reached your floor. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed, his keys were the only thing in his possession as he raced towards the door. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Nor did he care.

His only goal was to get to you.

It was embarrassing how badly his hands were shaking as he tried to shove the key into the lock, taking more attempts than he cared to admit before he managed to open the door. He didn’t even care about your neighbours as he began calling out your name, praying to every god he could think of that you were home.

He could have collapsed from relief when you wandered out of your room, a mixed look of concern and confusion on your face when you spotted him standing in the living room.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan tried to find the words to answer you. He tried to wrack his brain for a response to your question, a coherent sentence to calm the clear uneasiness in your voice. And yet, all he could do was stare at you and think one single thought that was leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.

“I’m in love with you!”

You blinked in response.

“Like, so painfully in love with you that I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone. But it is. And I do. And I can’t keep it to myself anymore because I think I am genuinely going insane,” Ethan continued.

Your lips parted a little in surprise, but still no words left your mouth.

“And I should probably stop talking and embarrassing myself further because you’re not saying anything and I’m usually a lot better at these kinds of things,” Ethan blurted out. “But you’ve been pulling away the last few weeks and I can’t take it anymore because it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I have to keep pretending I’m fine with everything when I’m not.”

His body was moving before he could stop himself. He was taking steps forward, closing the small distance between you two because Ethan couldn’t stop the pull you had on him—on his body, his mind, his whole fucking world.

“I’m in love with you. Like in a ‘I wanna come home to you every night and kiss you because we are dating’ kind of way, not a ‘we are roommates who made up this weird agreement’ way.” Ethan breathed out, his voice just above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. “And I don’t expect you to say you feel the same way but I can’t keep it anymore and—”

He was cut off by you throwing yourself at him, arms winding around his neck and lips on his. He didn’t even care about the rest of his sentence, sinking into the kiss like a starved man eating for the first time. The relief of feeling your body pressed against his was almost as addicting as the adrenaline pumping through his veins when you let out a blissful sigh.

“M’not moving out,” he managed to mutter out between kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you tight against him. “Whatever you think—”

You pulled away a few inches, just enough to see his face. “Your laptop was open,” you murmured, something sheepish and guilty written across your face. “And the email came through from your estate agent about signing a new lease and I got in my own head about it. I thought you were going to leave and I wanted to protect myself from falling further and—”

“Falling further?” He repeated, a hopeful smile beginning to take over his face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your smile mirroring his. “Turns out sleeping with your roommate is a real catalyst for falling in love with him.”

“Lucky me,” Ethan murmured before leaning back in to kiss you. “And I’m not leaving until you want me to leave.”

“We’ve really gone through this relationship thing in a weird order, huh?” You mused, laughing a little when Ethan kept leaning in to kiss you.

“Yeah but I think it’s worked out pretty well for us,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours.

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Nobody ever was, not really. He wasn’t fully prepared to fall in love either.

But with you in his arms and the Devils only points away from clinching a playoff spot, he thought his rookie year was going far better than anything he could have prepared for.

#ethan edwards #nhl #umich hockey #new jersey devils #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x you #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #umich hockey x reader

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riansdiary · 5 months ago

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IT'S NOT MANIFESTING, IT'S HAVING AND BEING NOW!

Hello my dearest gentle readers! 💎

Did you miss me? I am back with another epiphany! I had it last few weeks ago and it was when I realized that we f*cking over complicated the law of assumption too much. When I started manifesting with the help of Hyler's videos, there was no stress or worrying or over complication about it at least for me. That is because I knew that all I needed to do was assume that I have it now, there was not too much focus on the 3d because why would we identify with the old story?

Let me give you a simple analogy for this. It's just like changing batteries or having a new phone or erasing the board for a new lesson. When you need to change the batteries of your remote, you just put in the new ones (new story) and that's it. You forget and toss the old ones (old story) in the trash! That's how simple it is. There's no "why is it still not working?" or "what if it doesn't work?" when manifesting because that is being in the middle!

You're hanging in the balance and your subconscious is gonna be confused so go straight to the end. Manifesting is that simple. You either have it or you don't but you're not just pretending you have it either. You know you have it. I don't even like calling it manifesting that much because that implies a process or waiting time. It's just having it or being it now and not looking or identifying with the 3d or the old story.

You just choose a story and stick to it. Heck, I didn't even affirm that much before to manifest things. I wanted to make the two vaccines I'm getting to be completely painless, what did I do? I relaxed and affirmed only a few times and lived in the end. I didn't worry because I knew it was done. I wanted a specific food I'm craving? I affirmed a few times in the state of the wish fulfilled and forgot about it. Later on, I get the very thing I affirmed for. We must remember that the 3d follows us. Okay so what do you think will happen if you're saying stuff like "Where is it? I've been affirming for x amount of time!" or "I've been listening for so long to subliminals but there's no results!"

You are now reacting and you're pulling yourself back to the old story. There's no problem if you rant or cry it all out. We're human and we can do that but we keep staying in the new story. The problem is if we give up. The only thing that is stopping you from having it is exactly those thoughts about the 3d. That is keeping you in the old story. If you're really living in the end then why oh why do you spiral and think thoughts like that? If this ever happened to you, you can just go back to the new story. Reject and cancel your reaction. I reject negative thoughts or anything I don't want. Yes, you can do that. Do not forget that you are the operant power.

Let me tell you how to really do it in the easiest and simplest way possible. This is how I used to manifest effortlessly when I started learning about the law. Now I over consumed and yeah you know, took too much info when I already knew what worked for me even before. Now, I'm not saying that this is the only way or the best way to manifest. I'm just recommending this. What works for me might not work for you but that's okay. We all have our own special way.

Now without further ado, let me tell you how to do it. Try it for two weeks or however long or short you want. Just trust me and try this out.

1. Think of what you want to manifest. Anything you want. Go crazy.

2. Either pick an affirmation or multiple ones to say in your mind when you think of it. That's option A.

Option B: Rampage a.k.a just say whatever you think if you have that already. It's just naturally whatever comes to your mind about it that is in the past, present or future tense. You pick what you want but personally I like the present tense the best. Let me give you an example and yes, this is what I used to affirm for the things I mentioned above. Let me link the video I got this from!

youtube

Example 1: For my painless vaccines, these are the thoughts I had. All in the wish fulfilled state.

"Oh goodie the line's moving so fast now! The vaccines I'm getting are gonna be painless. Yup it was painless, it felt like an ant bit me. That was nothing! I literally finished so fast and I'm ready to go home with Mom!"

This is what I thought to make the lines go faster which honestly helped so much because the line was so long but it started moving faster and faster after I affirmed. I also thought in my favor about making the vaccine painless. I made sure to affirm that I won't have the side effects that people are talking about. I did it like that, very naturally but I also repeated each sentence at least just three or five times. It changes a bit as I think but it's just the same sentence simplified or just another form of it. Let me show you what I mean.

"I got the vaccine and it was painless. It didn't even hurt. I got the vaccine so fast and we can go home now. Oh the line's going faster. Why is the line suddenly moving so fast? Oh that was fast!"

Something like that! It's just like my natural way of thinking!

Option C: Just decide you have it and keep deciding whenever you think of it and know that your words are law. That means that when you decide, it is instantly done.

3. Always replace the old story with the new story. Take the old story and chuck it in the trash. It's in the past. You now have whatever it is that you want. That means whether you see it or not, think that it is done and it is here now. Yes, full on delulu mode but not really delulu because it's just being in that mindset of having it. That also means that you don't need to find it in the 3d. Why would you? That's the old story and it's trash. Do not even think about it. Aha, do not even try. You accept that it is here now and it is done. Remember that what you focus on stays in your reality. It is that easy. You don't want to be broke? Okay forget about that. It's in the past and it's not true anymore. Accept that you're rich now whether you see it or not. Have faith in the law of assumption. Acknowledge your desire to be in your reality now. Acknowledge that money you now have in your bank account. I acknowledged that croissant that I wanted. Yup I know the croissant is right in front of me now. Instead of finding your desire in the 3d, SPAWN THAT SH*T! MAGICALLY MANIFEST IT OUT OF THIN AIR. Um, excuse my french 🤭

4. All you need to do now is to know that it's done. RELAX. Why would you worry about it when you have it now? Be in the reality where you have it now. What would you think now that you have it? How would you feel? You'd feel relaxed and you can kick back and watch movies! Know that it is truly done. Would you count how many times you affirmed if you had it already? No. Would you worry about it if it's already here? No. That is still being stuck in the middle and making it a process! What would you do if it's already here? Do that. Do what makes you happy. Watch some Disney or Ghibli movies and just chill because you have it now whatever it is you desire. Let go of the 3d and the old story because it's in the past. Please. Manifesting doesn't really include the 3d. It's just a mere reflection of your thoughts or state. That's all it is. And please do not wait for it. There's no waiting. You just need to know and acknowledge that your desire is here, you have it now and it's done.

Here's a little summary of that:

1. What do you want? Okay you have it now. Congrats! 🎉

2. Affirm in whatever way you want for a few times or whenever you think of it.

3. Live in the end/state of the wish fulfilled. The old story is in the past. Focus on the new story. What you focus on sticks/stays in your reality.

4. Know it's done now. Do what makes you happy. Acknowledge your desire being here now.

Before I end this post, let's do a little fun exercise. Shall we proceed? Just a little extra thing!

Okay this is the situation: You were rich all your life. You've always lived a lavish life and you are spoiled with gifts on the daily. You literally can always afford and get the latest Iphone or whatever else you wanted. You have always gotten whatever the heck you want.

For the first two, it's gonna be an acting exercise. More like try being this character and embodying them.

First is improv acting. Be this character and rampage or naturally say lines that you think they would always be saying. Think Audrey Hope, Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald or any rich spoiled characters you know!

Fun fact: Audrey is my fave character in the Gossip Girl reboot! She's so cute! My inspo when it comes to being classy and demure! Idk I also really like her personality! That's why I used her gifs!

Something like: "Oh I really want those compact mirror cameras! It's small so it's easy to put in my bag and it looks like makeup! It gives Totally Spies vibes so you know what... I'm gonna place my order now! I always have money anyway and it's so cheap so why not?"

The next thing is a line that you can say. I asked Chatgpt to make me a random rich character monologue. It's like a vaunt basically! Imagine it's Blair Waldorf's opening narration line. Be it, Embody it and say it in your mind like it's just normal for you. You can read it everyday if you want to!

"I always get what I want. That’s just how it works for me. I don’t even have to think about it—if I want something, it’s mine. No questions, no doubts. It’s like the world bends a little to make sure I have exactly what I need, when I need it. And why wouldn’t it? That’s just how my life goes.

I walk into any room, and I know I belong there. I don’t have to prove myself or explain why I deserve it. I just do. Everything I touch turns into something special. When I want something—whether it’s an invitation to the most exclusive event or a last-minute trip halfway around the world—I make a call, and it’s done. Effortless.

People think money changes things, but it’s not really about that. It’s about knowing that everything is always within reach. I don’t chase after things—I attract them. Opportunities, people, experiences—they all come to me naturally. It’s just how my life flows.

And the best part? I don’t even have to try. It’s just who I am. I live on my own terms, and the world just fits itself around that. Everything always works out for me."

Here's the next exercise. This is something more specific. This is inspired by one of Hyler's videos that I will link here.

Think of a thing you're manifesting right now and imagine it right in front of you. For people who can't visualize, find a picture of the thing (if possible) in Pinterest or Google and look at it as if it's in front of you.

If it was right here in front of you, what would you think, how would you feel and how would you act? This has helped me immensely after I watched Hyler's video. I realized that I would feel relaxed now that it's here and my thoughts would align with it being here now. I would take a deep breath and feel relieved.

Now I want you to do this for your desire. I want you to always ask yourself these questions to remind yourself that it's here now and it's done. Whatever is in the 3d is old news. What you focus on sticks so focus on only what you want. The 3d is not included in manifesting. It's just the effect while the 4d a.k.a your mind is the cause. Live in the reality where you have it now, live in the 4d and embody the version of you who already has it. Don't do things to manifest or get things. That will happen naturally but that should not be our focus. The basics are to assume/decide/know you have it now. If you have it now then why would you identify with the old story? Do not identify with the old story. You're not there anymore. It will just stay in your reality if you pay attention to it and give it power.

That's all I have for you in today's post but I know or at least I am now assuming that this will help everyone and make it easier for you! I hope you're having a good day or night!

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

#law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #lawofassumption #loassumption #how to manifest #subliminals #simplified #law of assumption success #manifest #success story #loa tumblr #loablr #loa blog #loa #loa states #loa success #Youtube

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eu-nicola · 3 months ago

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christmas village

summary: a car accident leaves you and Rafe stranded during a snowstorm in a remote cabin in Woodstock.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 9315

author's note: english is not my first language, I LOVE CHRISTMAS

The car moved slowly along the snow covered road, the white landscape stretching out on either side like an endless canvas. Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was far from calm. You were sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the window, deliberately ignoring the presence of Rafe Cameron at the wheel. Your parents had insisted you travel with him, arguing it was safer than going alone, but so far, it had only been a test of patience.

Rafe, his hands firmly on the wheel, wore an expression of boredom mixed with irritation. He didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the company, and it was hard to forget that you two had once been something more. The relationship had ended turbulently, and although time had passed, the tension lingered in the air. Every now and then, he broke the silence with some sarcastic remark.

“If you’re going to stay quiet the entire way, at least put on decent music,” he said, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond.

You didn’t bother to look at him, simply adjusting the volume of the audio system slightly so the playlist you had chosen at the start of the trip kept playing. Of course, you knew he was doing it just to annoy you, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

The snowstorm began as a light drizzle, but soon the gusts grew more intense. The car's windshield was covered with snowflakes that seemed to multiply by the second, and visibility started to decrease.

“This doesn’t look good,” Rafe muttered, adjusting the windshield wipers to their maximum setting.

“Can’t you drive slower?” you asked, your tone sharper than you’d intended.

He gave you a quick glance, his jaw tightening.

“I’m already driving slow. If I go any slower, we’ll finish the trip next year.”

You responded with an exasperated sigh, looking at your phone even though you knew there was no signal. The winding road seemed endless, and the treetops lining the way were starting to bend under the weight of the accumulating snow.

Suddenly, the car skidded. It was a brief moment but intense enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Rafe!” you exclaimed, gripping the edge of your seat.

He cursed under his breath, turning the wheel sharply to try to regain control. But it was useless. The car swerved to the side, and before you could react, it crashed into a snowbank by the roadside. The engine shut off, and the silence that followed was almost deafening.

Rafe slammed the steering wheel with both hands in frustration.

“Great. Just what we needed.”

“What are we going to do now?” you asked, trying to stay calm.

“First, we’re going to get out of here before the car freezes,” he replied. He opened the door, but the icy wind that rushed in almost made him retreat.

Both of you got out of the vehicle, facing the relentless cold. The storm had worsened, and it was clear you wouldn’t make it to the town on foot. That’s when Rafe pointed at something among the trees.

“Look, there. It looks like a cabin.”

Your eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and sure enough, a small wooden structure could be seen in the distance. It didn’t look like much, but at that moment, it was your only option.

“Let’s go,” he said, not waiting for a response.

You walked silently through the storm, trudging through snow that now reached your knees. When you finally reached the cabin, the door opened slowly, and the warmth inside immediately enveloped you, a stark contrast to the freezing cold you had endured outside. Inside, an elderly woman with gray hair and kind eyes looked at you in surprise, wrapped in a thick shawl. She seemed to have been sitting by the fireplace, as a blanket lay draped over a nearby chair and a cup of tea rested on a small wooden table.

“Heavens! What are you two doing out here in the middle of this storm?” the woman asked, her hands clutching the edge of the door as she scanned your faces for answers.

“Our car went off the road,” Rafe quickly replied, his tone tired but respectful. “The storm caught us, and we saw this cabin from the road.”

Still shivering from the cold, you added, “Sorry if we’re intruding. We didn’t have any other option.”

The woman shook her head and opened the door wider to let you in.

“You’re not intruding at all. Come in, come in! You can’t stay out in this cold.” She extended a hand toward you, as if to help brush the snow off your shoulders.

You stepped inside, grateful for the warmth provided by the small stone fireplace in the corner. The cabin was simply decorated but had a cozy feel. Knitted blankets hung over the backs of chairs, and the walls were adorned with old photographs and handmade Christmas garlands.

“How far is your car?” the woman asked as she grabbed another blanket from a chair and offered it to you.

“Not far,” Rafe said, shaking snow off his boots near the entrance. “It’s stuck in a snowbank by the road.”

The woman sighed deeply and nodded.

“The storm isn’t going to stop tonight. They’re saying on the radio that it could last until tomorrow afternoon. It’s too dangerous to go out now.”

“Is there any way to call someone to come get us?” you asked hopefully.

The woman nodded, her eyes lighting up.

“Luckily, I have a guest cabin just across the road. It has a landline you can use. You’re welcome to stay there tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s not a bother?” you asked, feeling a little guilty for accepting so much kindness.

“Of course not” she replied with a smile. “In fact, I wouldn’t feel right knowing two young people are stuck in this storm without a roof over their heads.”

After making sure both of you were bundled up warmly, the woman guided you to the guest cabin. The snow was still falling heavily, and the path was slippery, but the light from the flashlight she carried illuminated the way. When you arrived, she opened the wooden door, revealing a small but cozy interior with a fire already burning and an atmosphere that seemed straight out of a Christmas postcard.

You stepped inside eagerly, thrilled by the contrast between the cold outside and the warmth within. The first thing that caught your attention was a Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with bright lights and ornaments that looked handmade.

“Look!” you exclaimed, pointing at the tree with a genuine smile. “It has a decorated tree!”

Rafe, who was behind you, let out a mocking laugh.

“What, have you never seen a Christmas tree before?”

You turned to look at him, but instead of arguing, you simply ignored him, letting your enthusiasm speak for itself.

“It’s beautiful” you said, more to yourself than to him, as you walked closer to examine the details.

The woman smiled at your reaction.

“I decorated it a few days ago. I didn’t know if anyone else would see it, but I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s perfect” you said, your eyes still on the twinkling lights.

Rafe, meanwhile, dropped his backpack next to a chair near the fireplace, clearly less impressed by the tree.

“Perfect, sure” he muttered, though this time in a lower tone, as if he knew he wouldn’t succeed in annoying you.

The woman, ignoring the dynamic between you two, made sure you had everything you needed before saying goodbye.

“You can stay as long as you need. The phone is on the table, next to the lamp. If you need anything, my cabin is just across the way.

You thanked her sincerely as she left, closing the door behind her.

Silence settled in the cabin once you were alone, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. As you hung your coat on a hook near the door, you felt Rafe’s gaze on you, but when you looked at him, he had already averted his eyes.

“I guess it’ll be interesting to see if we can survive without killing each other tonight” he said with a half-smile.

You sighed and sank onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth relax you.

“If you don’t talk too much, I think we’ll manage.”

Rafe chuckled softly and took a seat in a nearby chair. Although there was still tension between you, something about the warm, festive atmosphere of the cabin made the situation feel less unbearable than you had imagined.

The heat from the fireplace barely managed to chase away the chill still lingering in your bones as you approached the phone on the table. The oil lamp illuminating the corner cast flickering shadows across the cabin, giving the place an intimate, almost surreal air. But you didn’t have time to admire the details; you were anxious to contact someone, anyone, who could get you out of there.

Rafe stood behind you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a mix of expectancy and exhaustion.

“Do you even know who you’re going to call?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you picked up the receiver.

“No, but someone has to know what to do” you replied, dialing your parents’ number first.

The line rang, but no one answered. You tried again, pressing your lips together in frustration as the repetitive sound continued without response. Finally, you hung up with a sigh and searched for another number on your phone.

“Any luck?” Rafe asked sarcastically, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you want to try?” you snapped, turning to look at him. “Cause if you’re just going to stand there making useless comments, you might as well help.”

He let out a short laugh and stepped closer, taking the receiver from your hands before you could react.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

You frowned and crossed your arms, watching as he dialed a number. His confident expression shifted to annoyed when he too got a ringing line with no answer. He tried another number and then another, but the result was the same. Finally, he hung up forcefully, clenching his jaw.

“Great. Looks like no one’s available.”

“And now who’s unsuccessful?” you remarked, unable to resist the opportunity to throw his sarcasm back at him.

He turned to you, his blue eyes shining with something between irritation and defiance.

“Do you have some brilliant plan, or are you just going to stand there being annoying?”

You got up from the sofa, stepping closer to face him.

“Annoying? You’re the one acting like this is all my fault!”

“Because you always have to make things more complicated” he retorted, his tone louder than necessary.

“Complicated?” You laughed humorlessly, gesturing toward the phone. “I was the one trying to come up with solutions while you just stood there criticizing.”

Rafe took a step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Solutions? Like randomly calling people who clearly aren’t coming in the middle of a snowstorm? Great idea.”

“At least I’m trying something, unlike you, who just complains.”

The tension between you was palpable. His height and dominant attitude would normally intimidate you, but in that moment, the heat of the argument and your exhaustion pushed you to stand your ground.

“Look, princess, if you’ve got a magic plan to get us out of here, go ahead. Enlighten me with your wisdom” Rafe said with an exaggerated gesture, as if ready to hear something brilliant.

You glared at him, feeling frustration build in your chest.

“You know what? I’m not going to argue with you. Being stuck here with you is bad enough without having to deal with your crap attitude.”

You turned and went back to the sofa, letting yourself fall onto it with an exasperated sigh. Rafe remained silent for a moment, probably surprised by your reaction. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair and sank into the chair by the fireplace.

“This is ridiculous” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You stared into the fire, trying to calm yourself. The cabin, which had felt warm and inviting before, now seemed much smaller, as if the space was shrinking under the weight of the tension between you.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling of the firewood and the howling wind outside.

The quiet in the cabin was almost tangible, broken only by the crackle of the fire in the fireplace and the whisper of the wind rattling the windows. Both of you had fallen silent after your brief argument, each lost in your own thoughts. But you knew you couldn’t keep going like this; being trapped in the middle of a snowstorm was uncomfortable enough without adding the tension of your constant bickering.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the fire soothe your frustration before speaking.

“Look, Rafe” you began, turning toward him. He was sitting across from you in the wooden chair, his head slightly tilted toward the fire as if studying it. His eyes flicked to you, glowing in the firelight, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know how long we’re going to be here” you said in a calmer tone. “Maybe until tomorrow, maybe longer. But what I do know is that we can’t keep this up.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of interest and skepticism.

“Keep what up?”

You sighed, leaning your elbows on your knees as you looked directly at him.

“Fighting over everything, throwing sarcastic comments at each other every five minutes. We’re stuck here, alone, with a snowstorm outside. If we don’t make an effort to get along, this is going to be unbearable.”

He let out a small laugh, though it didn’t seem mocking almost reflective.

“Getting along? You and me? Is that even possible?”

“It will be if we both try” you replied firmly. “And if you stop being so...”

“So what?” he interrupted, leaning forward with a lopsided smile that both annoyed and challenged you at the same time.

“So you” you said, crossing your arms.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Fine, I deserve that.”

That took you by surprise. You hadn't expected Rafe to admit something like that so easily. You decided to take advantage of the moment.

“Then let's make a deal” you proposed, keeping your gaze fixed on him.

“A deal?” he repeated, tilting his head with curiosity.

“Yes, a deal” you reiterated. “While we're stuck here, we set our differences aside. No fights, no unnecessary sarcasm, no acting like kids.”

“That last part is directed at you, isn't it?” he teased, but his tone was lighter this time.

“At both of us” you said, rolling your eyes. “What I mean is, let's try to be... I don't know, civil. At least until someone comes to find us.”

Rafe looked at you silently for a moment, his blue eyes studying your face as if trying to read your intentions. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“Alright, deal.”

You extended your hand toward him, hoping to seal the agreement symbolically. Rafe glanced at your hand and, for a second, seemed to hesitate. But then he leaned forward and shook it with his own.

“Although” he added as he released your hand “I can’t promise not to be a little... me. It’s part of the charm, you know?”

“Sure, the charm” you muttered sarcastically, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips.

He leaned back in his chair again, relaxing a little more.

“Alright then, where do we start with this attempt to get along? Got any brilliant ideas, or are we just going to sit here in silence watching the ice melt off our boots?”

You looked at him, crossing your arms in a thoughtful gesture.

“We could start by not insulting each other every time we open our mouths.”

Rafe nodded slowly, as if considering your words with more seriousness than you expected.

“Fair enough.”

For the first time since entering the cabin, the atmosphere felt a little less tense. Despite how irritating Rafe could be, there was something almost amusing about the idea of trying to cooperate with him, even if you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Well, let’s see how long our deal lasts” you said finally, settling onto the sofa and gazing at the fire.

“That depends on you, princess” he replied with his typical smug smile, but this time, instead of annoying you, you just shook your head and chuckled softly.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d survive this storm together without going insane.

Night fell quickly, darkening the white landscape surrounding the cabin. The wind continued to lash at the windows, but the warmth of the fireplace created a cozy contrast inside the shelter. Both of you knew you needed to eat something, but neither seemed willing to take the initiative.

Finally, you broke the silence as you looked toward the small makeshift kitchen in the corner.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Rafe, sitting in one of the wooden chairs by the fire, glanced up at you with a teasing smile.

“Would it surprise you if I said yes? I learned after we ended things.”

“Interesting” you admitted, raising an eyebrow.

He stood up from the chair with an exaggerated display of confidence.

“Well, get ready for the best feast this cabin has ever seen.”

You followed him to the kitchen, skeptical. Together, you started rummaging through the shelves and the small pantry, which held only a few supplies: a package of pasta, a couple of cans of soup, some stale bread, and a bottle of olive oil.

"I’m not sure if this counts as a feast, but you can give it a try” you said, leaning on the counter as you watched Rafe examine the ingredients.

“Trust me, princess” he replied with a wink. “I’m about to turn this into culinary art.”

You just rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile a little. Rafe got to work with an energy that seemed almost too much for the humble menu available.

“Can you pass me that pot?” he asked, pointing at an old saucepan on a high shelf.

“What happened to "please"?” you retorted, but you grabbed it and handed it to him anyway.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

He started boiling water for the pasta while you checked what was left in the cupboards. You found a small jar of spices and a can of crushed tomatoes.

“What about this?” you asked, showing them to him.

Rafe looked at them with an expression that tried to be serious.

“Perfect. Let’s call this... frozen cabin pasta.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though you tried to hide it.

As you worked together, there were several awkward but almost amusing moments. When you tried to open the can of tomatoes, the can opener got stuck, and in your attempt to fix it, you ended up splashing yourself with some sauce.

“Impressive” Rafe commented, trying not to laugh too loudly as you shot him a glare.

“If you laugh, you’re cooking alone.”

“I’m already cooking alone.”

“I’m helping!” you replied, exasperated, as you wiped the sauce off your shirt.

“Sure, helping is splashing sauce everywhere” he teased.

Despite the sarcasm, you started noticing that the atmosphere between you was becoming a little more relaxed.

Eventually, you managed to put together something resembling a pasta dish with improvised sauce. You served it on the only two plates you could find in the cabin and sat down at the rustic table by the fire.

“Well, it’s not a feast, but it could be worse” you commented as you tried the first bite.

Rafe watched you closely, as if waiting for your verdict.

“Well?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

“Not bad... for someone like you”

you said, feigning a casual tone.

“Someone like me” he repeated, smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You both ate in a silence that, surprisingly, didn’t feel awkward.

When you were done, Rafe got up to wash the dishes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised.

“Washing the dishes. Or is that too noble for me?”

“I definitely didn’t picture you doing that” you admitted, smiling slightly.

“Well, I’m a man full of surprises.”

As you watched him work, you realized that, for the first time since the storm started, you didn’t feel as tense. Rafe seemed less arrogant, almost... human.

You leaned back in the chair, watching the storm continue to rage outside.

“Maybe this isn’t so terrible after all” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

“What did you say?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Nothing” you replied quickly, looking away.

While the storm kept roaring outside, covering the world in a seemingly endless blanket of snow, the warmth of the fireplace remained comforting. But the cabin was still small and a bit cold, so you both knew you’d need more blankets to get through the night.

“Do you know where the blankets are?” you asked, as you checked one of the shelves near the fireplace, trying to find a cabinet or a place where they might be stored.

Rafe was nearby, looking at the makeshift beds, but he didn’t seem to find anything.

“I don’t know, maybe over there” he said, pointing toward the back of the cabin, where there was a door that looked like a small closet.

The two of you headed over without saying much. The space between you was small, but the atmosphere was different, as if something was hanging in the air a soft yet palpable tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. As you brushed past him, your shoulders accidentally touched, and a shiver ran through your body a small contact that, despite being insignificant, left a strange feeling behind. It was as if the air between you had become charged with electricity.

You both stopped almost simultaneously, staring ahead, avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry” Rafe said, his tone softer than usual, though there was no need to apologize.

“It’s fine” you replied, not looking at him, but with the feeling that something had shifted between you. The tension, though slight, seemed to linger, more present than before.

The two of you kept searching for the blankets, but every little movement felt strange. As you reached up to grab a blanket from the highest shelf, your fingers brushed against his for a second, and that spark that had been ignited didn’t fade it intensified. This time, neither of you said anything, but the air felt thicker, warmer, even with the storm raging outside.

Rafe was the first to pull away, handing you a blanket with a gesture rougher than he likely intended, and you began to wonder if it was all just a coincidence. But as you glanced at him briefly, you caught him looking away, as if he, too, was wrestling with the same feeling.

And as the storm continued its relentless howling, the two of you stood there, a little closer than before, the tension between you undeniable.

“Thanks for… the blanket,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence, and you realized that your voice had come out a little quieter than it normally would have been.

“You’re welcome,” Rafe replied in a tone that sounded almost sincere, although his face was still hidden in the shadows of the cabin.

A small sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and, upon hearing it, Rafe looked at you for a moment, but didn’t say anything. It seemed as if you were both caught in the same confusion, but not knowing how to continue.

The atmosphere was still electric, but neither of you openly acknowledged it. However, there was something different in the way you looked at each other. The space between you was not as full of hostile tensions as before, but something more subtle, more ambiguous, something that neither you nor he could define.

Finally, you both settled down on the floor, leaving the blankets over your bodies to try to get some warmth. No one else spoke, but the proximity was new and felt uncomfortable in an almost pleasurable way. Every time their arms or legs accidentally touched, a prickling sensation in the air seemed to follow them, without them being able to really ignore it.

The silence that followed was so thick that even the crackling of the fire seemed softer. They were both trying to rest, but they knew that the storm outside was not the only thing that kept the cabin in a state of restlessness.

The next day came with the same monotony of the storm that did not seem to let up. The snow continued to fall, covering the landscape with a thick, white layer that made everything even more isolated. The cabin, although cozy in its warmth, was still small, and they both knew that being trapped there with no company but each other was not the ideal situation.

The sun barely filtered through the small windows, making the light dim, almost gloomy. They both tried to distract themselves with simple activities: you walked over to the fireplace to add some more firewood, while he looked out the window, watching the wind push the snow into spirals. No one else had passed by all morning, and the radio, although tuned to different frequencies, brought nothing but static. The heavy silence between them was a constant, interrupted only by the sound of the wind outside or the crackling of wood under the flame in the fireplace.

At first, they tried to call each other on the phone, but the signal was nonexistent. Communication with their families was scarce, and the answer they both received from their respective homes was the same: "We're busy, we'll send help when possible, but we don't know when." That promise would take hours, even days, and frustration slowly grew within the two of them. Without a clear plan and with time at a standstill, all they could do was wait.

The first part of the morning was awkward. They both tried to find tasks that would keep them busy without having to confront each other too much. You sat in the corner reading one of the few books the cabin had, while Rafe checked the electronic devices once more, as if the batteries in his phone could magically fill the void between you. Every time your gazes met, something in the air tensed, and you both quickly looked away, as if you weren’t ready to acknowledge what had changed in the atmosphere between you.

As the day progressed, the atmosphere became slightly less charged. The need for coexistence made them both begin to share the space more naturally, although there was still an invisible barrier that neither of them wanted to completely break down. Lunchtime came without many options, but they tried to make the best of what they had. Together they prepared something simple, a warm soup from a can, and although neither of them felt too much like eating, they both knew they didn't have many alternatives. They ate in silence, sitting near the fireplace, the sound of the ladle against the can and the soft crackle of the fire creating an atmosphere of uncomfortable intimacy.

After lunch, they decided to try to explore the cabin to see if they could find some way to make the wait more bearable. But every corner, every nook and cranny of the place, seemed to be saturated with the feeling that nothing more was going to happen. Time continued to move with an almost unbearable slowness, but the storm remained the same, with no sign that anyone might come to rescue them soon.

Rafe began to move in a more restless manner, pacing back and forth, while you stood still, watching the tension build up in his shoulders. Sometimes he would stop to look out the window, as if he could make the wind and snow stop with a single thought. However, reality was relentless. Neither of you could do anything to change the situation, and that became an unspoken truth that hung in the air. At some point, you both decided to go out onto the small, snow-covered terrace, hoping that the cold air would clear your minds a little. You covered yourself with a coat, and Rafe, although more reluctant, followed you outside.

The snow fell relentlessly, enveloping the world in a blanket of silence and whiteness. The landscape seemed deserted, without footprints, without a trace of life. You stood at the door, watching the storm form patterns of mist in the air, while he leaned on the door frame, looking out at the horizon. Neither of them said anything, but the fact that they were outside, in the storm, with the pressure of the situation, made them feel that at least they were sharing something at that moment.

The rest of the day passed in a back and forth of small efforts to ignore each other and, at the same time, pass the time in the best way possible. At one point, Rafe suggested playing a game, as if they could at least transform the tense calm into something more bearable. They found a deck of cards on a nearby table and sat down to play, their fingers sliding clumsily across the cards, while the sound of the wind slid around the walls. Amidst the jokes and attempts at sarcasm, time began to flow in a more natural way, although there was still that strange spark in the air that they both tried to avoid.

The afternoon faded and night fell quickly again, covering them in an almost complete stillness.

The night had fallen with the same heavy calm as always, but this time, the silence was not so unbearable. As the storm raged on and the hours seemed to drag on endlessly, the cabin was safe in its warm shelter. They decided, after a while, to look for something to do, something that could break the routine and relieve the tension that had been hanging between them all day.

It was Rafe who finally opened an old cupboard in the corner of the living room, and with a slight grunt of disapproval, pulled out a dusty box. Opening it, they found an old board game, with worn wooden pieces and a board that was already showing signs of use. It was one of those classic games, the kind one finds in forgotten country houses, but at that moment, it seemed like a lifeline to both of them.

With a slight smile that barely managed to hide his surprise, Rafe offered the pieces to you, suggesting that you play. The game, though simple, was the beginning of a change in the atmosphere that neither of you expected. The rules didn't matter too much; what really mattered was the space the game took up in the room, and the way that, with each joke and each move, the two of you began to relax, even if only a little.

The first few rounds were clumsy and full of sarcasm. You both sat in front of the board, moving the pieces more roughly than necessary, and joking about how, apparently, neither of you were an expert at that type of game. However, as the game progressed, the jokes became more natural, and the laughs began to come out without either of you meaning to. Rafe even began to let out a few genuine smiles, something that would have been rare to see before.

At one point, during a silly turn where a piece almost fell out, you both burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself. It was a liberating laugh, as if the weight of the day and the situation had lifted a little, if only for an instant. There was something in the way you both looked at each other, as if, for the first time since you were trapped in that place, you felt a little more human, less disconnected.

The night went on, and the laughter continued. It was then that, checking the fireplace again, you realized that it had gone out a little. You tried to adjust the wood, but, as expected, you couldn't manage it alone. Rafe, who had been watching with a mocking look, stood up without saying much and came over to help you.

"Do you need help or would you rather make another mess?" he asked in a sarcastic tone, but without malice.

Without saying a word, you accepted his offer and together you tried to rekindle the fire. You both crouched down near the fireplace, moving the branches and wood with a little more urgency, and as you did, a small burst of ash flew towards you. You both let out a startled cry, and before you knew it, Rafe was covered in ash on his face, while you, equally surprised, also had a light layer of grey dust on your hair and shoulders.

At first, the moment was a chaos of nervous laughter and narrowed gazes, and the tense air was finally broken. The two of you looked at each other for a second, completely covered in dust, and the scene, in its clumsiness and unexpectedness, provoked more laughter. Rafe tried to brush the ash off his face, but only managed to spread it further.

“This is a mess,” he said between laughs, while shaking his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you don’t look so bad anyway,” you replied between guffaws, trying to brush the ash out of your hair.

The situation was absurd, but for some reason, it was perfect. The sense of bewilderment and tension that had defined the whole situation from the beginning had vanished, and what remained was something lighter, a sort of awkward but sincere camaraderie. They both sat down again near the fireplace, much more relaxed now, and continued playing, with no one talking too much about what had just happened.

The mood in the cabin was changed. The laughter they had shared a few moments before, the accidental brush of hands while playing, all of that had created a different atmosphere between the two of them. The spark that had been left in the air, that unconfessed tension, had become something palpable, almost unbearable. They both knew it, although neither of them was willing to admit it. Silence filled the room again, but it was no longer awkward. It was a silence that vibrated with something else, something nameless.

They were sitting near the fireplace, the flames crackling softly, while shadows played on the walls of the cabin. Rafe was staring into the flames, his fingers drumming against the table, his breathing a little heavier than usual. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel like there was something different about him, something that made you not want to look away. But, at the same time, you couldn’t allow yourself to give in to it. Not after everything that had happened between you.

Suddenly, without warning, Rafe leaned forward. The movement was so gentle and so sudden that you didn’t even have time to react. Before you could process it, his lips found yours, with a gentle but determined pressure. The kiss was unexpected, a clash of sensations that left you breathless for a second. It was something neither of you had planned, but at that moment, it seemed inevitable. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the coldness of the air around you, creating a tension in the air that enveloped you.

The kiss wasn’t tender or delicate. It was intense, full of everything that hadn't been said, everything that had been floating between the two of you since you met in the storm. It was like that kiss was trying to express everything that neither of you dared to say out loud. But, at some point, everything stopped. Time seemed to stand still, and in that instant, what had once been a mix of confusion and desire became something much clearer. You couldn't let things happen again. Not again.

Suddenly, a knot in your stomach made you pull away from him abruptly. The distance between you both became instantaneous, as if simply moving away from him could dispel what had just happened. You stood there, breathing heavily, looking at Rafe, who hadn't moved, but whose eyes reflected something you hadn't seen before: vulnerability, surprise, perhaps some regret.

You didn't know what to say, but the feeling in your chest was clear. You couldn't let things go back to the way they were. Not after everything you’d been through with him, everything that had happened before, when unspoken words had left scars. You couldn’t let that history repeat itself, couldn’t risk everything you’d learned to protect crumbling again.

“I don’t want to go through what I went through with you again,” you finally said, your voice shaking a little. The words came out stronger than you’d anticipated, and you were surprised that you could say them so clearly.

Rafe didn’t answer right away. His eyes didn’t leave yours, but there was something about his expression that unnerved you. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the internal struggle he was having, but it didn’t matter. You had been clear. You had stepped away, you had put up a barrier, and you weren’t willing to take a step back.

Silence fell between you again, heavier this time, denser. The fire in the fireplace continued to crackle, but the warmth of the room wasn’t enough to melt the cold distance that now separated you. Rafe finally moved, but only to get up and walk away to the window, looking outside as if that could give him the answers he couldn’t find in you.

The air in the cabin was still heavy with the tension of the unsaid, with the emotions neither of you wanted to face. But in that moment, you knew you had made the right decision, even if your heart was pounding and you felt empty inside. You didn’t want any more of that confusion, of those moments of desire and regret. Not again. And, although you couldn't predict what would happen next, you knew that the barrier you had put up was the only thing that could protect you.

The following days were a mix of awkwardness and uncomfortable silence. Although the snowstorm continued to lash against the cabin's windows, the weather inside was colder than ever. Even though circumstances kept them together, conversations became short, almost forced. The night of the kiss continued to weigh on both of them, like an invisible cloud, and although neither of them mentioned it, the tension was palpable in every small gesture.

They had breakfast together, but the conversation never went beyond what was strictly necessary. During the day, they tried to distract themselves, looking for some way to pass the time, but there was always something in the air that kept them at a distance. Sometimes, one of them would make a casual comment, but what had once been a simple chat now became uncomfortable. The simple act of looking at each other felt like a challenge, as if there was something invisible separating them.

Frustration began to build, and though neither of them would admit it, they both knew there was something they couldn't ignore any longer. The tension was building, like a taut thread about to snap.

It was on one of those afternoons, as they both tried to find something else to do in the cabin, when the bomb went off. They were looking through the few books the cabin had, looking for something to read, when Rafe, with his characteristic dismissive attitude, made a comment.

"You know, I don't understand why you can't just relax and enjoy this. It's like you're expecting everything to be awkward, like..." he paused, looking away, and then, with a sarcastic smile, added, "like you're expecting everything to be a romantic comedy or something."

The comment was the straw that broke the camel's back. There was something in his tone, something in the way he made fun of the situation, that made you lose patience. You couldn't let it go any longer. At that moment, everything you had been holding in, everything you had been trying to ignore, came to the surface.

“You know what? It’s not about that, Rafe,” you replied, your voice tense but determined. “It’s not about me wanting everything to be perfect, it’s about me not being able to stand you trying to make everything harder than it already is.”

The argument quickly began to escalate. The atmosphere in the room became charged with unspoken words, with pent-up resentments. You both knew there was something more, that what was between you was not just the awkwardness of the moment, but something much deeper, something neither of you dared to face.

Rafe, for his part, was not far behind. His face hardened, and suddenly, his mocking tone faded, giving way to a suppressed fury.

“Oh, no? So what do you expect from me? To apologize for everything I’ve done? To tell you that all of this hasn’t affected me too? Because it hasn’t, do you understand?” His voice became rougher, and for a second, the arrogant Rafe that everyone knew disappeared, revealing someone more vulnerable, someone who was also struggling with his own demons.

The impact of his words left you silent for a moment. It was the first time you saw Rafe so... human. That facade of a self-assured boy, of a boy who controls everything, was crumbling, and it was doing so in front of you.

But it wasn't just that. You felt the same too. You couldn't keep hiding what you felt, you couldn't keep pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. The frustration of the previous days, the tension that had been left hanging in the air, was now almost unbearable.

“I don't understand it, Rafe” you finally answered. “All of this, this situation, you... you've never given me a reason to think that things could be different. Everything that's happened between us has been... a mix of misunderstandings, of things left unsaid. And I'm confused too, I don't know what to expect from you, or from myself.”

For a moment, both stayed silent. The noises from outside the wind hitting the windows and the snowstorm were the only things that could be heard in the cabin, while the weight of the words hung in the air.

Rafe looked down, his hands shaking slightly, not from the cold, but from something deeper. He was fighting with himself, with the part of him that he had never shown to anyone, that part that he feared, that felt vulnerable. After what seemed like an eternity, finally, his words came out.

"I never wanted things between us to be like this," he said in a low, but sincere voice. "I don't know how to handle it, I don't know how... how to deal with this. I've always been... well, I've always closed myself off, and I don't know how to make things different. But it scares me." I’m scared of what I feel, scared that this will all end badly, like it always does. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

You were surprised to hear Rafe speak with such vulnerability. The boy who was always so sure of himself, so unflappable, now looked so… fragile. And, for a moment, something inside you changed. The wall you had put up, the one you had built to protect yourself, slowly crumbled.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, feeling the words slipping from your lips, unable to stop them. “I’m scared that this is nothing more than a mistake, that we’ll end up hurting each other. But I’m also scared that if we keep acting like everything is okay, we’ll miss something that could be different. And I don’t want to live with that doubt.”

The air between the two of you changed, it became heavier, but also more real. For the first time, the two of you looked at each other without the barriers of indifference, without the defenses you had kept between you. At that moment, you both knew there were no easy answers, that what you felt was complicated, confusing, and terrifying. But what had just happened, what you had just shared, was the first step toward something more, something neither of you could control.

The tension that had defined the previous days was no longer as present, replaced by a shared vulnerability that connected you in an unexpected way. Though there were no words, there was something much deeper in your gazes, a silent understanding.

Rafe took a step toward you, his eyes still filled with that internal struggle he had just revealed. There was no more sarcasm, no more games. There was just him, without the layers of arrogance that used to define him. He was genuinely there, in that moment, and you couldn’t stand the distance between you, not when you felt so clearly what was between you.

With an almost imperceptible gesture, he took your hands, his fingers cold but soft to the touch. And before you could say anything, he moved closer. On his face, uncertainty was present, but there was also something else: a shared need, a force that was driving him towards you. And when his face leaned towards yours, it wasn't the rushed kiss from before. It was slower, more cautious, as if both of you were measuring every second, every inch.

The contact of your lips was soft at first, a touch that almost felt like a sigh. But that soon changed, as if the fear and doubts from before faded away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of desire and mutual need. Both of you let yourself be carried away by the emotion, by the intensity of what you had just shared. There was no room for anything but that connection.

When the kiss ended, both of you took a deep breath, almost as if you were waking from a dream. But the emotions didn't fade. On the contrary, they intensified. Rafe looked into your eyes, as if searching for something in your expression, something that would give him the answer he already knew, even if he didn't say it. And you felt the same: a mix of nervousness, confusion, but also a certainty. Something had changed between you, and there was no turning back.

Without saying a word, you came closer again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more urgent. The need to be close, to feel complete with each other, was too strong to resist. Rafe's hands began to explore your back, pulling you closer, while you hugged him too, losing yourself in the feeling of his body next to yours.

In the blink of an eye, everything fell apart. The barriers you both had put up fell like sand castles, and you found yourselves in the bed in the cabin, both with your hearts beating hard, your breath shortened by the emotion of the moment.

The cold of the storm outside didn't matter anymore. Inside the cabin, the heat between you grew more and more intense. Every touch, every caress, was an act of shared vulnerability, of desire that had been hidden beneath the surface for so long. And as their bodies met in a slow, emotionally charged dance, the confusion of the previous days faded away completely, leaving them with only what they truly wanted from each other: to be together, without fear, without reservation.

The first contact was timid, as if both were afraid that it would break something, destroy that fragile connection they had just discovered. But soon, the need grew stronger, and the movements became more confident, more intense. Rafe looked at you with eyes filled with something more than desire. There was something deep in his gaze, something that told you that it was not just desire that was driving him, but something deeper. And you, without being able to help it, reciprocated in the same way, with your heart racing, but without the same doubt.

Time seemed to stop. The reasons or the words that were left hanging in the air no longer mattered. The fear was gone, and in its place, there was only the presence of each other, in that bed, in that cabin, surrounded by the storm, but more connected than ever.

The hours passed without the two of them realizing it. The outside world ceased to exist, and only the warmth of the cabin remained, the accelerated beating of their hearts, and the feeling that what they had just shared was not only a physical need, but also an emotional one. The vulnerability they had shown each other, the words they had said and those they had not, were now present in every touch, in every look.

Finally, exhausted but closer than ever, they stayed together, side by side, the silence enveloping them, but without the heaviness that had been there before. The cold no longer mattered. Only the warmth they shared mattered, the space between them that, although charged with complicated emotions, now seemed to be the safest place for both of them.

As you both lay in bed, snuggled under the blankets, the air in the cabin seemed to have calmed down. The storm outside was still raging, but inside, the warmth shared between you was all that mattered. The sound of the rain against the windows and the wind howling outside failed to penetrate the small shelter that had witnessed so many changes between the two of you.

The silence was comfortable, but also fraught with slight awkwardness. Despite what had happened, despite the intensity of the moments before, it was still uncharted territory for both of you. Words didn’t seem enough to describe what you felt, and vulnerability was still hovering between you, never quite fading away.

Rafe was lying on his side, staring up at the ceiling, eyes half-closed and a small sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t say anything, but there was a palpable tension in his posture, as if he was waiting for the next step to come in some way he couldn’t control. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Everything that had happened seemed unreal, but the truth was that the two of them were there, and that changed everything.

Finally, you decided to break the silence. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you said something, not quite sure how it would be received.

“I think this is the strangest thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” you said in a soft tone, almost as if you expected him to respond with one of his sarcastic jokes, the usual way he had always handled things between you.

Rafe, without taking his eyes off the ceiling, let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t his usual mocking laugh. This time it was a lower laugh, as if he was acknowledging something he couldn’t ignore. However, the next thing he said was unmistakably sarcastic, one of his classic responses.

“¡Help me, I’m feeling! It’s a lot for me,” he said, his voice heavy with irony, but there was a glint in his eyes that made it sound more like a way to try and lighten the mood rather than a taunt.

Immediately, you couldn’t help it. You laughed, not at him, but with him, because you knew that even though he was trying to hide his own fears and doubts with sarcasm, you decided to act instead.

With a goofy grin on your face, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tightly. The laughter that came from your chest was warm and genuine, without the barriers that would normally have stopped you.

“Merry Christmas, Rafe,” you said, as you clung to him, the words escaping as if they were an unexpected gift, the first of many.

Rafe tensed for a second, surprised by your gesture, but before he could react the way he normally would, you moved closer, feeling the closeness of his body, the warmth that enveloped you. His expression went from surprise to bewilderment, and in that instant, without thinking too much, you leaned towards him. A soft and quick kiss, but full of meaning, slid between you. It was not an impulsive or hasty kiss, but something tender, a way of responding to what you both felt, without the need for words.

The contact of your lips against his paralyzed him for a moment, and when you separated, you stared at him. You were both breathing heavily, but this time it was not because of the tension. It was because of something much deeper, because of a shared feeling that neither of you had expected, but that was growing between you.

Rafe, for a second, didn't say anything. He was looking into your eyes, as if he were evaluating what had just happened. The softness of that kiss had broken some of the walls you had both tried so hard to put up for so long, but there was still confusion in his gaze.

“You have a way of making everything complicated, you know that?” he finally said, his voice a little lower than usual, but without the sarcasm he usually used to protect himself.

You pulled back a little, shrugging and smiling again.

“You’re an expert at making everything more complicated too,” you replied, but this time there was no harshness in your words, just an acceptance of what was happening between the two of you.

Rafe just stared at you for a moment, before letting out a sigh, his chest slowly rising and falling. And even though he didn’t say anything else, there was something in his gaze that told you he felt the same way too, though maybe he wasn’t ready to fully admit it.

The atmosphere between the two of you had changed once again. Now, without the weight of sarcasm and tension from before, there was something else. A bit awkward, yes, but also deeply human. You leaned against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, and for a second, everything seemed to make sense, as if the missing pieces of the puzzle of this strange relationship were finally starting to fit together.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #obx rafe cameron #obx x reader

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housetargaryenloyalist · 7 months ago

Text

From a seed grows

Chapter I: Thyme

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Synopsis: To claim a dragon one must be prepared to give up their life, yet this is the one thing you never wished to give up.

Wordcount: 3.5K

Warnings: implications of death, mentions of death, but really light nothing graphic.

Author's note: It's done, the first chapter! Fun little fact: every chapter will be named after a plant/flower that represents an emotion/theme of one of the characters :) I put a lot of thought into this story, the chapter names, and the character so I hope you will feel that as you read.

One last thing, a huge thank you to @madame-fear for showing interest into the story which prompted me to continue working on it! I adore her and her work, you should check out her blog!

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

‎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡Masterlist♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Blood dripped from your hands, the dagger clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the dark, empty alleyway and reverberated in your head. Soft, sharp gasps left you as you staggered backwards, your legs struggling to keep you standing as you buckled to the ground.

“What have I done?” your voice whispered to the night, your hands gripped the stone of the street as you struggled to regain your breath. You couldn’t stay here; staying here meant getting caught, getting caught meant being punished, and the punishment would most likely be death.

A life for a life.

You looked around you, hoping you were concealed enough that you wouldn’t be recognized. The only light was a single street lantern at the entry to the alley and the moon. You knew you had very few options: leave the city, leave and hope you’ll never be found out, be found out and flogged, tortured, flayed, or hanged. None of them sounded particularly great, but one sounded the best.

You crawled to where you had dropped the dagger, knowing you couldn’t leave it behind, no matter how rusty or stained it was. You took out an old handkerchief you always carried and wiped the blood off the blade, before stuffing the dagger in its holder. You sat there for a moment, trying to regain your breath before forcing yourself upwards and onwards. You prayed as you walked towards your home, prayed for forgiveness, prayed for mercy, prayed for help.

Prayed to all the Gods you knew of, old and new, to grant you safe passage out of the city. You passed people and shops, pleasure houses and closed homes, you passed by your life, your dreams and hopes. All to be left behind.

A moment later you were at the humble shack you called home, or at least your home was one of the rooms within the shack. Fleabottom wasn’t known for having particularly good real estate, but you and all the others made do. You went to your room, unlocking the shabby door that had seen too many beatings to really be considered safe and entered your little haven.

It was by all accounts small and in an abysmal shape, mold decorated the bleak walls alongside various other stains whom you did not wish to identify. Your bed was on the left side of the room, with a clear view of the door (just in case) and your small, very small, dresser was in front of it.

You dug through the room searching for a bag of any kind, when you found it you filled it with anything that could be considered even remotely valuable. It may have been little, but it should allow you to buy a one-way trip on a ship. The destination mattered little, as long as it wasn’t King's Landing.

As you ruffled through the top drawer of the dresser you stumbled upon what felt like a button. In all your years of owning it, you had never once felt this weird object hidden amidst your possessions. Curiosity beguiled you to push it and a latch opened on the top of the dresser, revealing a small hidden compartment.

Although curiosity had won the first battle, you were unsure if you wanted it to win this one. Alas, you had dipped a toe in the water and the waves were now too strong to get out. A hidden compartment was no novelty, many stories started with the protagonist finding an object of great significance in such a place and then embarking on an earth-changing adventure to save all of mankind.

You, however, felt like quite the opposite of such, even when your fingers felt an object hidden in the dark, hidden place. You almost laughed at the absurdity of this day, perhaps the Gods above were in a jesting mood. Slowly, carefully, you pulled the strange object from its hiding place, and soon you were face to face with something you had never seen before.

It looked to be a necklace, a simple silver chain with a simple pendant, it looked much like the necklaces you saw people wear around Flea Bottom. There was truly nothing notable about it, except for maybe the seven-pointed star of the Seven decorating the front and the small engraving on the back.

An engraving that had faded badly, presumably from the necklace having been worn a lot. It could only be seen when held at a certain angle, with ample light to decipher the words: Naejot issa byka zaldrīzes.

You rolled the words over your tongue, trying your hardest to grasp whatever language it was. It sounded oddly familiar, as if it were something from a dream, a memory unclear and nearly forgotten but now resurfacing. Whatever the words may mean, you presumed them to be words the previous owner must have cherished when taking into account how faded they were.

As you looked at the words more closely you noticed small initials beneath them, your eyes lit up slightly. This necklace must have been a gift. The initials were vague, two letters common enough they could belong to anyone.

A.T.

An odd feeling washed over you as you imagined what must have happened to the owner of this beautiful piece, how it ended up hidden in a dirty old dresser, in a shabby room in an even shabbier house. You did not have much time left to waste pondering the necklace’s history, dawn was creeping up into the sky, you could see small streaks of early morning light on the horizon.

In a hurry you put the necklace around your neck and hid it under your simple clothes. You braided your hair, in a quick manner, so it would not hinder you as you hurried through the maze of Flea Bottom.

You arrived at the harbor quickly through some risky but effective shortcuts, nearly avoiding a drunken brawl. At last you had made it to what would hopefully lead you to safety, or close to it. Sailors were moving around you carrying various sizes of knapsacks and their fellow sailors who had partaken too much in cheap ale. Dockworkers were starting their morning shifts as they moved to unload the various ships laying in their docks.

They carried crates filled with the finest fabrics, with spices you could not pronounce nor taste for they would surely cost more than you’d ever be able to afford. Your eyes wandered around to find someone you could approach and soon enough you spotted a young man with silvery blond hair and shabby clothes moving towards one of the ships. As you looked to see where he was going, you noticed some others moving towards the same ship. All sporting that same silvery blond hair.

You jogged towards the man who was surprised to see you approach him, “excuse me,” you smiled at him as he came to a halt, a silent invitation for you to continue, “where is that ship headed?”

The man furrowed his eyebrows at you, as if you just asked the most idiotic thing known to man. “To Dragonstone,” was all he said before he took off, increasing the speed in his step, almost as if to deter you from following.

You pondered to yourself for a moment, as you watched more silvery blondes approach the ship. There had been rumors, for there are always rumors in Flea Bottom, about the Black Queen looking for Targaryen bastards. Anyone with either silvery blond hair, lilac eyes, or both or even neither was urged to come to Dragonstone for an opportunity to bond with a dragon. Perhaps it was more than a rumor as you saw more and more people board the ship.

It was foolish, really, truly, well and wholly foolish, you thought to yourself as you stood in front of Dragonstone, the holdfast large and formidable. Guards escorted the large group to a small courtyard, as you looked through the crowd most of them had silvery blond hair, some light, others dark. There were a few on the other hand who had come with brown hair, red hair, or even black.

All had come to stand before the Black Queen, to serve her cause by potentially claiming a Targaryen dragon. On your journey, the people had been speaking of nothing else but the dragons, their size, their coloring, their behavior.

Much regarding the opinions of dragons had changed after the Greens paraded Meleys’ head around King’s Landing for all to see. There used to hang an air of unspoken devotion to dragons, they were to be feared, regaled, and not opposed, unless one wished for imminent death.

They were gods flying high above men, and the people who rode them were their only link to humanity. Now the smallfolk knew dragons were mortal, killable, vulnerable, and that the very house who rode them also killed them, paraded them, and unlike the small folk, did not worship them.

People whispered of killing dragons, where before those words were said in bouts of drunken foolishness, they were now said with drunken confidence. The people were hungry, and the dragons were potential food. Food for the stomach of starving men, ailing peasants, and also food to fuel a rebellion.

So now, for one of these dragonriders to actively seek out Targaryen bastards and lure them with a possibility of becoming equals, many could not resist. Not even you. You knew the dangers involved in claiming such a phenomenal beast, knew it most likely meant your death if you truly tried to claim a dragon. You also knew that you were now away from King’s Landing, in what could possibly be the only place safe for no one would dare attack this stronghold with all the dragons that lay within.

A guard came up to you as you were letting your eyes wander, his Kingsguard uniform reflecting the sun caught your attention, “Hoods down,” he commanded as he reached over to pull it down himself.

Before you could stop him, you could already feel the wind tussling your braid and tickling your ear. Now, with your hood down and hair a mess, you were just like all the others.

A silver-haired bastard.

A dragonseed.

What a cruel fate you had.

Not long after, a young man strolled up to a platform in the courtyard, silence befell the crowd as they realized who he was.

Clad in the dark red and black of the Targaryens, his hands crossed on top of the pommel of his sword, brown curls whirling around his face.

Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, daughter to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and he was a beautiful, beautiful man. He addressed the crowds, warning them of the danger, thanking them for their arrival, yet it all felt weirdly aggressive. There was no thankfulness or appreciation to be found in his tone, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned.

You heard a man behind you whisper that he was just a coddled princeling and another chuckled in response, you looked behind you briefly hoping that a stare would silence them. As you looked up back to the prince, you noticed him looking in your very direction. It almost felt as though he was looking directly at you, into your own eyes.

Others who had the same notion as you lowered their heads in reverence, in respect for their prince albeit that some carried an air of reluctance to them as they did. You felt no such devotion, felt no such need and your actions reflected that. There would be no bowing to a man meters in front of you, who spoke to you with contempt, as if your lives meant nothing at all.

His speech was over quickly, and he was gone with a few guards following in his steps. Another guard stepped up and made one last declaration before the group was to go into the dragons’ lair. “All those who wish to leave may leave, no harm shall befall you. You will be escorted back via ship at the earliest possible moment. All the others-” he signaled another guard who opened up the barricades put in place earlier, “follow me.”

Many of the crowd left, deciding that the threat of death so brutal was too large to face in comparison to the one they would face in King’s Landing. You supposed you could not blame them, a death by dragon fire or dragon stomping didn’t sound pleasant, however the fate that would no doubt await you in Flea Bottom sounded worse.

The ones left over were escorted to the inner parts of the castle, staircase after staircase, never once allowed to dawdle or gawk. The Queensguard were strict and didn’t hesitate to employ certain tactics to keep all in line. You winced as one of the guards struck a young man for touching a statue, the guard said nothing as he did so, only pushing the lad back into the line when he was done.

Tears pricked in the corner of the boy’s eyes, his hand cradling his hurting cheek. He had been pushed right in front of you, almost causing you two to collide. You tapped his shoulder as you procured an old handkerchief from your pocket, “here” you said as you practically shoved it into his non-occupied hand. He smiled a soft smile at you in thanks, before taking the fabric and dabbing at his eyes.

He didn’t seem much younger than you, perhaps he wasn’t. You didn’t ponder it too much however, chances were that he would die in the dragon pit just like many others. There would be no benefit in cosying up with the others, knowing that after this most of you will likely be dead or have risen too far in station to consider yourself with your lessers.

You cursed yourself and your cynicism often, however, today you proved yourself right. You were clinging to the walls of the dragon’s cave, hoping for dear life he had not seen you. The only light source you had were the flames that had come from Vermithor as he erupted in a fury that made him worthy of his name.

By now he must have devoured nearly all of the bastards that came to try and stake a claim. You pitied all of them, they tried to improve their standing however now all they were were ash and bones. Growls followed by screams were heard in the distance from yourself, perhaps the distance was large enough for you to get out and run, flee, escape, whatever the apt word might be.

An escape would be difficult, were it not for the fact that Vermithor was deeply engrossed in hunting a few people in the opposite direction of where you needed to go. You stalked through his enclosure with practiced ease, you tried to remain calm with your heart pounding in your chest, clouding your hearing and making your breath erratic. You refused to die here, you refused to be a burned corpse or some dragon’s dinner. No, you wanted to be more, so much more.

You wanted to be more than a peasant from Flea Bottom, a silver-haired bastard, a woman, you wanted to be more than all that. You wanted to be more than a dragonseed, more than what your parents doomed you to be. In order to achieve that, you would need to rise to the occasion and escape. With every ounce of strength, willpower, resentment, and fear you had in you, you ran towards the exit.

As you reached the opening you noticed it didn’t lead to solid ground, no grass or rocks to greet you. As you smelled the fresh air you also smelled the unmistakable smell of the sea. A salty fishy smell filled your nostrils and consumed your lungs.

Into the sea you soon jumped, a stupid, reckless idea, but far better than trying to climb down a mountain. All you hoped for was that the Gods would show you mercy and carry you to shore. The sea was cold, colder than you had expected, it took you great power to swim close to shore and drag your body through the sand before collapsing.

Your chest moved up and down in quick succession, desperate for air, as you tried to regain your strength you closed your eyes, letting the happenings of the day pass through your mind.

Sleep tried to claim you, alas, it was to no avail, for soon thereafter a loud roar resonated into the sky causing you to bolt upright from where you laid. A winged creature flew above you. It was large and formidable, you believed it to be even larger than the dragon you had seen in the Dragonstone caves.

The formidable beast’s shadow covered you as it flew over the sun, for as far as your eyes could see the world was now shrouded in darkness, only in the far distance could you see the sun rays touch the ground once more. The roars it let out were bone-chilling, a feeling of dread had washed over you from the moment you rose but now you were rooted to the ground with the fear of death settling in your veins which ironically left you unable to move. You had never imagined your death this way. Where nobles imagined dying in their canopy beds on silken sheets, you would be lucky if you died by a clean cut to your neck.

Now, however, it seemed you would die from this dragon thinking you made a decent hors d'oeuvre, before finding something larger or more plentiful to truly fill its stomach. Gods you really had a most cruel fate.

Once more a deafening roar resounded to the sky, causing your knees to buckle in fear as your hands shot to your ears in a vain attempt to dampen the noise. You kept your eyes locked onto the large figure as it soared through the sky, going higher and then lower, as if taunting you, playing with you, truly regarding you as prey.

In an odd way it frustrated you, standing there, waiting, baiting your breath as to when the dragon finally decided to end you. Anger rose through you more and more the longer this cat and mouse dance continued. Fear became an afterthought as your anger of a futile death overcame you.

“I’m here!” You screamed at the sky “Kill me! I dare you!” If anyone saw you, they’d be regarding you as a madwoman, which admittedly you were. However, it seemed as though no one was there, on this vast beach with waves continuing their cycle of ebb and flow, you were alone. Alone with the dragon. One last attempt you thought as you opened your mouth to scream, yet no sound could come for that very moment the dragon chose to descend onto the ground.

Your frozen feet suddenly could not move any faster, the large dragon got closer as you scrambled to get away, the sand making for incredibly difficult terrain when you want to be quick. One wrong step and you were sent tumbling down, face first in the sand. With the thought of impending death overtaking your mind, you found the tiniest bit of energy to turn around. In doing so, you were facing the dragon as it descended, shielding your eyes as sand was blown in all directions from the beating of the wings. A loud thud echoed on the empty beach as the beast finally stood on solid ground, its large body covered you in shadow.

Its snout was so close to your face, you could feel the puffs of hot breath. Bright, emerald green eyes were in stark contrast to the pitch black of its scales. The dragon was magnificent as it was terrifying, you gulped and took rapid breaths. Panic had settled in now, panic, fear, and anger, none were a pretty feeling. One of your hands went up to clutch your new necklace as you closed your eyes.

Waiting for the inevitable.

On a distant dune stood a smaller dragon, much smaller than the one hovering over the young woman. Upon that small dragon, with scales of olive green and wings decorated with a pale orange, sat the young prince, a spyglass held to one of his eyes as he witnessed the scene.

A part of him felt a great sense of pity for the woman. She looked young, perhaps around his age, and she had showed great courage in fleeing from Vermithor. A pity she would die so soon, yet at the same time. A bastard less or more would not make any difference

He closed his spyglass and pocketed it inside his tunic. There was no need to watch the scene unfold, he thought. He buckled his saddle tighter and spoke to his dragon, “sōvēs Vermax.”

#house of the dragon #jacaerys valeryon #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen

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