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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

The Proposal | la proposta

warnings; none word count; 1703 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

13th July 2024, Germany

Amelia and Ben had found themselves experiencing a slight bit of deja vu. The night before the final match of the UEFA European Championship, Amelia was sat in her hotel suite, finalising her preparations for the following evening. A rematch between the Three Lions and The Azzurri. Who would have thought that three years after the last final, the same two teams (give or take a few players) would be in the exact same position.

The difference this time, Amelia had more to think about than just her brother’s feelings. Her relationship with Ben had grown throughout the 3 years that they had been officially together. Countless family holidays shared together, and with each other's respective families had since become a thing of the past as they had successfully managed to merge both the White’s and the Chilwell’s together to create one big happy family. Ben had asked Amelia to move in with him only a year into their relationship, and although outsiders might think it was fast the couple could only disagree with them. They took each stage of their relationship as it came and when it came, just the two of them how it should be.

6 months after moving in together they had adopted a dog together from the local animal rescue centre, a black Labrador called Maverick who was bi-lingual and responded to both English and Italian, much to Ben’s dismay. Amelia began teaching both of her boys (Mav & Benj) simple words in the language of love and Ben had a harder time retaining it than the pup. Nevertheless, he loved hearing Amelia’s voice when she spoke to him in Italian and it was something he hoped he could hear every day for the rest of his life.

Amelia had continued her role at Chelsea FC as a tactical analyst for the first team, and Chelsea had honored their promise to the girl to allow her to work in depth with the academy talent which is something she found very rewarding and the part she loved most about her job. Of course she loved being around her friends and helping them achieve their dreams but there was something about fostering youth talent that made Amelia really proud to be in the position that she was, to help these young kids from all walks of life make it in the big scary world of professional football. The smile on their faces when they get a call up to an older division, the tears shed by their parents as they wave them off to go and live with their host family nearby Cobham facility, the same eyes that leak a whole different set of tears as they sign their first professional contract with the club - it makes it all worth it.

Something that was eerily similar to the last time Amelia was sat in her hotel room the night before the European Championship Final is that she was, once again, the tactical analyst for the Italian National Team. This time, however, there was no knock on her door with Federico Bernardeschi on the other side waiting to bring her to the English National Team’s base so she could have it out with her brother and Kyle Walker. Thankfully, her relationships with all of the England team had remained intact but that was largely due to another no-contact ban being enforced between her and the Three Lions. This meant that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to any of her friends, let alone her boyfriend Ben, in three weeks. It was painful for both parties, but necessary to ensure that there was no untowards activity or information being shared.

When Amelia was first offered the job she had sat on it for days before making a decision to rejoin the national team. Ben had actually been the one to push her to accept it, it was only something that would make her life better and he didn’t want her to miss out on any opportunity that came her way - even if it meant that the two of them had to be apart both physically and digitally for 3 weeks. That was the thing that held Amelia back from accepting the position on the spot, she would miss the person that became her right hand man. But Ben’s encouragement made the last few weeks easier, and also made Amelia realise just how ready she was to give herself to him...officially.

Marriage had been something that they had both discussed prior as a natural conversation between two people in a relationship that they could see was obviously heading in that direction already, so it was something that was always in Amelia’s mind. She had found herself at florists buying flowers for their dining room table and absent-mindedly thinking about the perfect wedding flowers for her bridal bouquet. However much to Amelia’s dismay, Ben was yet to ask her the most important question of her life and these three weeks apart have made her more desperate than ever to become Mrs Chilwell.

14th July 2024, Signal Iduna Park, Dortmund Germany

A torturous 90-minute match of football later and the Azzurri had done it, back-to-back UEFA European Champions. The only goal of the match coming from her midfield-maestro Jorgi, which was the direct result of a misplay from Declan Rice meaning the ball fell at the feet of Jorginho as he was directly in front of the goal, Jordan Pickford was no match for the beautifully crafted strike which isn’t anything towards Pickford, no keeper was stopping that ball from going in - it was just that good.

This time however, she was the one being consoled by her brother. The pressure of the situation getting on top of her, 3 weeks of no contact with Ben & seeing him for the first time out on this pitch but not being able to kiss him was getting to her, the knowledge that she was again partly to blame for their heartache. Her brother had seen the look in Amelia’s eyes when the whistle blew and the entire bench of the Italian team ran onto the pitch to congratulate the players, she had remained behind. Wrapping his arms around his little sister as she sobbed into his jersey because she was too empathetic for her own good was not how he predicted the outcome of the evening at all, but he was glad he was there for her. Pulling away from her, he tidied up her face and sent her on her way out to the pitch to wrap her Italian friends up in the hugs that they so well deserved, fully aware of the events to follow the wrap up awards ceremony that same night.

______________________________________________________________

I found myself standing in the centre circle at the Borussia Dortmund home ground, with an Italian flag wrapped around my shoulders and confetti all over the floor at my feet. Looking around at the fans who had stayed behind so they could meet their idols, I could not believe my luck in this world.

“I hope you’re not considering a job out here in Dortmund, Mils? I possibly couldn’t be away from you any longer” Ben spoke from behind me, pulling me out of my trance. I whipped my body around at lightning speed and launched myself at my boyfriend, my soul mate.

“Ben” I whispered into his ear as he lifted me from the ground, feet dangling at his mid shin and my arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly as if to convey all of the hugs we had missed out over the last few weeks apart.

“Mils, I’ve missed you so much.” He said back to me, expressing the exact same sentiments as I possessed. He put me back on the floor and began to push me away from him, in my desperate attempt at a longer hug I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled myself back in.

“No Mils, I need to see your face as I do this.” He laughed, pushing me off him again and taking a step back from me.

“Benj, what are you doing?” I questioned him, not really believing my own thoughts as to what was about to happen.

“Amelia, my brilliant Amelia. The past three weeks have done nothing but made me realise I never want to spend a day without you again. There are many ways to be happy in life, but all I need is you. You are my sunshine, you make me unbelievably happy, you make my good days great and my hard day's worth it just to see your smile in our kitchen at the end of it. Your brain is the most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I hope our future daughter turns out exactly like you so that I have another you to love.”

Ben had descended to one knee as I stood before him, both hands raised to my face to cover my shocked by bright smile and both eyes stuck directly on his own. I hadn’t noticed the crowd of our closest people begin to gather around us to watch the show.

“So in front of God…” Ben nodded his head slightly, I turned my head to see he was referring to Paolo Maldini and shook my head with a little giggle which was copied by everyone else around us.

“...our family and closest friends I want to ask you the question that I know you’ve been patiently waiting for - will you marry me?” Ben pulled out the most perfect ring from a box that I hadn’t even noticed in his hands.

Dropping myself so that I was crouched and on both knees in front of him, I grabbed his face with both of my own hands and pressed the firmest kiss to his lips. My tears ran down my face and probably all over his, he kissed me back. They say a picture says a thousand words, and while I hoped that at least one of our friends had managed to snap a few of this moment, my kiss said only one word...Yes.

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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you guys like this one! :) A quick reminder that I’ve set up a Ko-Fi incase you want to support my writing --> ko-fi.com/spine_buster . Enjoy!

December 25th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was celebrating Christmas.

Siena was home from Ottawa, having finished another semester of law school. Camden was the first one up, naturally, screaming at everybody that it was time to open presents. The family had been to Midnight Mass the night before, a tradition Orla had the family do every Christmas since they were young. After opening presents, everybody would shower and help her make the day’s big lunch before passing out in food and wine comas all over the house. If all went well, Gramma Frances and Grampa Alistair would call and they’d all say hi in a short FaceTime.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” Camden could be heard screaming from the hallway, his footsteps getting louder and louder. “It’s time to open presents!”

“If he comes in here I’m gonna scream at him,” Siena mumbled into her pillow. Aberdeen laughed from her side of the room.

“Siena! Aberdeen!”

“We’re coming!” Aberdeen yelled, not bothering to move.

“Hey mom! Can I finally try coffee?!” their little brother wouldn’t shut up.

The girls snorted, with Siena groaning as she stretched in her bed, unable to fall back asleep. Eventually they got up and got ready, their little brother’s screams getting too annoying to ignore. “He’s getting more annoying as he gets older,” Siena said playfully, running a brush through her hair.

“Yeah,” Aberdeen agreed, “but at least he doesn’t jump into mom and dad’s bed like we did.”

“Remember that time you almost punctured dad’s lung?”

Aberdeen snorted. “Remember that time you almost broke mom’s nose?”

“Maybe we should do it again for good measure.”

The girls finally emerged from their room, finding Orla in the kitchen pouring coffee. Camden was dragging Mirza out of his room, Mirza playfully pulling him back in so Camden would slide on the floor. The family hugged each other before Aberdeen opened a cupboard to get the Chips Ahoy cookies. Camden snatched one right from her hands. She chased him around the house.

Opening presents was always fun. This year, Aberdeen was able to ask around the office for something for Camden, and she ended up with a Kyle Lowry Raptors jersey. When he opened it, he automatically loved it and hugged it like he was five and it was his favourite new toy. Aberdeen’s parents gifted her practical things – a chic new laundry basket and a nice throw she could use when she cuddled with Minerva and a bag of Doritos, and Siena bought her two new books she’d wanted to read. To his credit, even Camden’s gift was cute: a mug that said, “Cat hair, don’t care” in fancy lettering.

Once the gift giving was over and the family room cleaned of all the wrapping paper, everybody started to get ready. Orla began seasoning the roast beef and Mirza began preparing the potatoes. The kids showered and got ready so they’d look nice for photos and for their eventual FaceTime with their grandparents. Siena stayed on the main floor to begin whipping up the trifle. Aberdeen brought Camden to the downstairs kitchen with her to help with seasoning and roasting the Brussel sprouts and carrots.

“So what are the Maple Leafs doing today?” Camden made conversation as Aberdeen sliced the carrots and he laid them in their tray.

“Which ones?” she asked. “It’s not like they’re spending it together as a team. They’re all spending it with their families.”

“What’s John Tavares doing?” he asked. Camden knew much more about sports than she did. He found it genuinely cool that his sister was working for the Toronto Maple Leafs, even though he liked the Raptors a little bit more. When she told him how she sat with Masai Ujiri at the Major Donor Gala, he freaked out and bragged to all his friends. He was officially one of the coolest kids in school.

“Well, John and his wife Aryne just had a new baby in September, so this is their first Christmas with him. I think they’re spending it at John’s house with both their families there,” Aberdeen explained.

“What about Auston Matthews?”

“Auston’s entire family came up from Arizona – they’re having a big family lunch like we are.”

“What about Mitch Marner?”

Aberdeen smiled. “Mitch is spending it with his family, his girlfriend Stephanie, and his dog Zeus.”

“His dog?!” Camden’s face lit up. “Mom and dad won’t let me get a dog yet. They say I’m still too young.”

“Just wait,” Aberdeen encouraged him. “Mom will eventually want to replace me and Siena with a dog, and dad will be too powerless to say no.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. What kind of breed do you want?”

“I want a German shepherd.”

Aberdeen laughed at her brother. He always dreamed big, which was good for a kid his age, but a German shepherd would be bigger than him. There was no way he’d be able to handle it out on walks. “Aim smaller. What about a corgi?”

“That’s your dream dog cause of their butts,” Camden furrowed his brows. “If mom won’t let me get a German shepherd then I think I want a goldendoodle. Greg at school has one and it’s really cute.”

“Why don’t you just get a regular poodle and cut its hair really weird like that lady in 101 Dalmatians?”

Camden started to laugh as Aberdeen sliced the last of the carrots. She made sure they were all lined up nicely before starting on the Brussel sprouts. “We can shave the Toronto Maple Leafs logo into its hair.”

“Exactly!”

“Then it can become the team dog!” Camden giggled, liking the idea already.

Aberdeen and Camden stayed in the basement kitchen for almost an hour – enough time so that all the carrots and Brussel sprouts were sufficiently roasted and seasoned properly as Orla taught them. When the carrots were ready to be brought upstairs, Aberdeen made Camden put on oven mitts and told him to grab the dish. “Go run these up to mom,” Aberdeen said. “And absolutely no funny business. If these fall on the floor nobody in this family will forgive you.”

Camden did as he was told, going up the stairs slowly. Aberdeen stayed down for another ten minutes, waiting for the Brussel sprouts to finish before putting on her own pair of oven mitts and bringing the plate upstairs. By then, the roast in the oven smelled impeccably delicious and Aberdeen could already see most of the food on the table as she rounded the corner. Before she could move any further, Siena came through and blocked her passage and sightline towards the front of the house, a look of panic on her face. “Ab—Aberdeen,” she was staring at Aberdeen wide-eyed, like she’d just seen a ghost.

“What? What’s going on?” Aberdeen whispered.

“Hey.”

Aberdeen knew that voice. She knew that voice anywhere. She’d be able to recognize it from miles away. It was the voice that tortured and soothed her all at once. What was it doing here? In her house? Her head turned quickly like she was in The Exorcist.

And there he was.

William Nylander. Standing in the middle of the family room. Her family room.

With her mother.

Aberdeen was going to pass out.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, almost dropping the plate of Brussel sprouts at her feet. What was he doing here? What was he doing here? How the fuck did he even find out where she lived – where her family lived? And why did he have a glass of water in his hands? How long had he been here for him to have been offered a glass of water? Why didn’t she hear the doorbell? Why didn’t she hear a knock? Why hadn’t her parents called down to her in the basement to let her know he showed up unannounced to their Christmas Day family celebrations and why didn’t they—

“Aberdeen!” her mother scolded her as she walked towards her. “I know he’s a little early but that’s no way to treat the guest you invited.”

Aberdeen glared at William and then glared at her mother. She was almost rendered speechless by William’s stupid grin on his face. “I did not invite William to Christm--”

“Aberdeen, please, the Brussel sprouts,” her mother wasn’t having it, walking towards her and grabbing the plate from her hands, only to put it on the table.

Aberdeen looked at William, dressed in a nice pair of navy blue slacks and a fitted grey Ralph Lauren sweater with a collared shirt underneath. He definitely looked the part of innocent-hockey-player-come-to-spend-Christmas-with-a-welcoming-Canadian-family, but he wasn’t fooling her. Aberdeen looked back to see her mother disappear into the kitchen again. Siena was already gone, too. Good, it made it safe for her to cuss him out.

“How do I look?” he asked, waiting for one of her famous retorts.

He wasn’t going to get one. Not this time. He looked too wholesome, but more than that, he didn’t deserve one for crashing her family Christmas. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” she hissed as she stepped forward so she could get closer to him.

“Better than spending Christmas alone,” he shrugged his shoulders, the playful grin still on his face.

“I thought you were Skyping with your family,” she said, immediately regretting it. She knew Skyping was nowhere near close to spending actual time, physically, with your family on one of the most important holidays of the year.

“I already did, while I was having breakfast and they were having lunch. Six hour time difference,” he said.

“Will, I’m serious, what are you—”

“I thought you’d need a friend here after everything that happened,” he said quickly, his tone serious. His blue eyes looked into hers and every ounce of anger and shock in her dissipated. “I figured you probably haven’t told your parents, and definitely not your brother, but I know you told Siena, and I just thought it would be nice for you to have a friendly face around beside your sister that…I don’t know…might make Christmas more fun.”

He knew her. He knew he so well that she almost hated it, but mostly found it so admirable and so damn…cute. He knew that she’d only tell Siena because Siena was the person she was the closest to in the world, and he knew she wouldn’t tell her parents because…well, because they didn’t need to know their daughter got sexually harassed at work. She didn’t know what she was feeling right now. “How do you even know where my parents live?”

That trademark grin came back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Aberdeen! You didn’t tell me William Nylander was coming for Christmas!” Camden’s voice rang from behind her. She turned around to see her brother with his arms crossed playfully around his chest. “Would have been nice, you know.”

“I guess I forgot,” she said absent-mindedly. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. She couldn’t believe William was at her house for Christmas; that he was going to be spending Christmas with her family because, well, it wasn’t like she could kick him out onto the street now.

“Did you see I brought a dessert?” William said, his voice upbeat as he looked at Camden. “I picked up some treats from a Swedish bakery in downtown Toronto.”

Camden’s eyes lit up at the words. “Double dessert!” he screamed. “Siena made a trifle! You’ll like it. It’s got strawberries in it.”

“Alright! Everyone to the table!” Orla’s voice boomed throughout the house. “Is the wine on the table? Are there drinks?”

“Does everybody have a spot?” William whispered to Camden.

Camden nodded his head quickly before pushing William to the opposite side of the table. “Mom sits at the head,” he pointed, “Siena sits there, dad sits there, I sit at the other head, and then Aberdeen sits here.”

“So I guess I’m sitting—”

“Right here,” Camden took out the chair for him.

William took his seat. Aberdeen slipped into her seat beside him, still staring at him like he wasn’t real. Siena took her seat, then Mirza. Camden last. Then Orla brought in the roast, smelling absolutely delectable. William’s eyes widened at how good it looked. Everybody brought their plates forward and she put a few slices of the carved meat and gravy onto everyone’s plates – only then did the other dishes get passed around to fill up their plates: the Yorkshire puddings, the roasted potatoes, the Brussel sprouts, and the carrots.

“Are you Catholic, William?” Orla asked as she sat down at her seat.

“No ma’am.”

“Well, Christmas and Easter are the only two days of the year that we pray before our meal,” she informed him. “So, congratulations. Camden, why don’t you say a Hail Mary.” William watched as everybody around the table except Mirza did the sign of the cross, though Mirza did bow his head in respect. William quickly followed with his own sign of the cross. He listened as Camden recited a Hail Mary. When he was done, Orla spoke up again. “Lord, we would like to thank you for bringing us together to celebrate your birth, and we would like to thank you for bringing us William today to celebrate with our family. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone said.

“Hallelujah!” Camden exclaimed, grabbing his fork. Everyone else did too, while Mirza stood up to start pouring the wine in everyone’s glasses, save for Camden.

“So you mentioned your family is in Sweden, William?” Orla asked, slicing her roast beef in pieces. “Whereabouts?”

“Most of my family is there, right in Stockholm. But I have a brother living in Chicago who also plays hockey. My sister Jacqueline is also in Texas at SMU playing tennis, but she was able to get home for Christmas,” he explained.

“And where’s your brother in Chicago going?”

“He has a teammate and his family. He lives in their basement,” William smiled.

“Orla has a habit of wanting to feed the entire congregation, if you know what I mean,” Mirza smiled from across the table. “Clearly Aberdeen knew, since she invited you.”

Aberdeen wanted to say that she didn’t, that he was hear because he somehow found their address and wanted to make her life a complete circus, but she decided against it. It was Christmas, after all. “Yeah, well when Aberdeen offered, I thought it was so nice, but I didn’t want to intrude,” William said from beside her. She could have killed him right then and there.

“Intruding? What are you intruding on? The more the merrier. And God knows I make enough roast,” Orla commented. “Besides, it’s not the first time Aberdeen’s brought something home and said ‘Surprise!’.”

“We all love Minerva and she is a great cat,” Aberdeen said firmly before anyone else could say anything.

Conversation flowed nicely. William was a natural, Aberdeen thought, and she chalked it all up to his endearing charm – his best quality. Well, at least to Aberdeen. It was what attracted her to him in the first place. That and the fact that he was so persistent. But everybody seemed to take a liking to him, and despite being the only person at the table who knew what had happened between them, Siena was surprisingly calm, warm, and chatty. Camden was an everyday 11 year old, asking William about the Leafs and if he’d met any Raptors and what playing hockey was like. He made them smile. He made them laugh. He made them love him. It was all so sickeningly sweet.

Camden cleared the dishes and Aberdeen cleared the food platters and Orla and Siena fetched the desserts. Mirza stayed to keep William company at the table. Aberdeen watched as Orla scooped all the remaining leftovers into a Tupperware – Aberdeen knew she’d give it to William when he left, and now she was stuck thinking about how William was going to return one of her Tupperwares without anybody on the team or in the offices knowing. It sent her head for a bit of a spin until Camden almost knocked her out with a swinging fridge door. “Camden, get the dessert plates on the counter,” she ordered, and he did as he was told. She got the trifle out of the fridge.

“Show him mine! I was so much cuter!” she heard Camden exclaim from the dining room. What was he on about now?

Aberdeen turned the corner. And then she saw it.

William Nylander. Sitting at the dining room table with her father.

Looking through her baby book.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. “Dad!!!” she exclaimed.

William looked up at her, the biggest, goofiest, most sincere smile on his face. “You were a cute baby, Aberdeen.”

She was mortified. She thought about walking outside and freezing to death because that would be a better option than what was happening in front of her. She set the trifle down on the table loudly, her jaw on the floor. “Dad, come on!” she complained. “I work with William! He doesn’t have to see my baby pictures!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to show off my two darling daughters,” Mirza waved off her complaint. “Besides, I can’t say no when a guest wants to see.”

Aberdeen glared at William, who still had that smile on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna get it when we’re back at the arena.”

“Am I?” he taunted her.

“Look! Look here! Siena at four, Aberdeen at two,” Mirza diffused the situation, pointing to a new picture on the page. “We sent copies of this one to Orla’s parents in Derry. They had it up for years.”

Aberdeen knew exactly which picture Mirza was talking about. She and her sister were photographed by a professional photographer, with Siena wearing a frilly yellow dress and Aberdeen wearing a pink one, equally as frilly. They were both smiling at the camera while sitting on some sort of box, and both wearing small, dainty necklaces. They were adorable, but William didn’t need to know that. “These are evil eyes, right?” he said, pointing to the necklaces they were wearing in the photo, a small smile on his face.

“We say nazar. It protects from the evil eye,” Mirza nodded his head. “They’re very popular in Iran.”

“What made you come to Canada?” William asked.

“The revolution, mostly,” Mirza said. “I was fourteen. My parents didn’t want me to stay so they changed my name and I escaped the country. It wasn’t safe for me anymore. I went to Syria first – to Aleppo – and had all my documents processed there to become a refugee. I came to Canada when I was eighteen in 1984.”

William was quiet and had a solemn look on his face as he listened to Mirza. It was so unlike any other story he’d heard before, in terms of people’s parents at least. He grew up with a lot of “My dad played in the NHL” or “My dad works in hockey” – never “My dad escaped a revolution”. It was very new to him, and he almost felt ashamed at the lack of diverse stories his friends, acquaintances, and all the kids he grew up with had in comparison to this. “And you chose Canada?”

“Canada chose me, I think,” Mirza smiled. “Look at these pictures here,” he said, flipping to the back of the photo album. When he reached the page, he showed William, and Aberdeen already knew what it was: the few pictures he had of himself growing up in Iran with his parents, some photos of him in Aleppo, and the first photos of him in Canada. “That one was the year before I left Iran,” he said, pointing to one, “and this one…the month I arrived in Canada.”

William smiled. He looked up at Aberdeen, who was already expecting his reaction. “Sugo hat outfit,” he said, like it was a code language. “Holy hell. You weren’t kidding, Aberdeen.”

“Told you.”

“Sugo hat outfit?” Mirza asked.

“It’s nothing, dad. William just has an interesting fashion sense. Very European.”

Mirza shrugged, letting it go. “Canada led me to Orla. Led me to have this,” he motioned around at his house, “led me to my job, led me to be a father,” he nodded towards Aberdeen. “Canada has been very nice to Orla and I, because even she had her troubles. Literally.”

“Troubles?”

“Orla grew up in Belfast and Derry during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. There was religious violence all around her growing up. Catholics versus Protestants,” he explained. “She came to Canada to escape it, too, in 1988. And it brought us together. We met in 1993 at our citizenship ceremony, married in 1995, and had Siena in 1996.”

William couldn’t help but smile. Meeting your future spouse at your citizenship ceremony as you swore an oath as a new citizen of Canada? “That’s the most Canadian thing I’ve ever heard,” he giggled.

“I know!” Mirza smiled along with him. “Orla married the mailman – I mean literally married the mailman. You should have heard all the jokes we got from her friends when she got pregnant with Siena. They never ended.”

Dessert and most of the afternoon continued as thus: retelling old family stories and recounting family memories as everyone devoured both desserts, with William explaining each of the Swedish pastries he’d picked from the bakery. They called their grandparents in Derry just as they were finishing, with William politely staying out of view, and then everybody relaxed around the house. William promised Camden he’d teach him some stickhandling tricks with the old sticks they had somewhere in the garage, “once my food baby has passed.” Mirza and Orla sat on the couch, watching the Christmas specials on TV. Camden opened and started to organize the pieces of a Lego set he’d received as a Christmas gift on the dining room table. Siena, Aberdeen, and William went down to the basement to “watch Netflix”. They got through one episode of Brooklyn 9-9 before Siena told them to sneak back upstairs into hers and Aberdeen’s bedroom for some alone time. Aberdeen tried to say no but William was already up. When he winked at Siena as a thank you, Siena immediately understood what attracted Aberdeen to him in the first place.

When he walked inside Aberdeen’s room, he thought that it was everything yet nothing he imagined all at once. A small twin bed, a stylish comforter, a view pictures of her with friends strung along draped string and a corkboard above her headboard. “So this is your room?”

Aberdeen nodded. “Well, used to be just Siena’s room. Then when the little monster was born we moved in together.”

“You didn’t care? Didn’t demand a room in the basement?”

Aberdeen shook her head. “I told you how close Siena and I are. I actually didn’t mind at all.”

He sat down on her bed, looking up at some of the pictures she’d hung. He recognized Kasha in one of them, and what he assumed to be other university friends. There was even a picture of the family together, for what looked like one of Camden’s birthdays. “You have such a nice house…” he started, looking around some more. “A nice, like, home. It’s very homey and just, like, perfect. And your family’s really…warm,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “They remind me a lot of mine. Close knit and stuff. You’ve all got each other’s back.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, sitting down on her bed next to him. “Does it…I mean, does it make you miss your family?”

“Tons,” he replied automatically. “Especially on days like today. But it’s okay. I know this summer when we’re all together it’s gonna be a blast.”

“I know…” Aberdeen began. “Listen, I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings much, but if you ever do want to talk when you’re really missing them…you know I’m here to listen, right?”

William looked at her and smiled. God, he got so lucky. “I know,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He paused, staring into her eyes before knowing he had to continue. “Listen…I got you something,” he said.

“You what?” Aberdeen was flabbergasted. As if enough didn’t already happen today. He saw her baby photos for God’s sake.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“I really think you could.”

He sighed and smiled, reaching into a bag Aberdeen hadn’t noticed was there and pulling out a wrapped box, a ribbon tied around it perfectly. She had a hard time believing he wrapped it himself, but then again, he had a lot of siblings. That was his excuse for knowing how to do a bunch of things that he had no other logical explanation as to why he knew how to do it. “Merry Christmas, minskatt,” he said.

“I don’t have anything for you,” she blurted out, immediately regretting it.

“I don’t need anything. It’s fine,” he shook his head, pushing the box onto her lap. “Open it.”

It was small. Too small for her liking. She gave him one last look before sliding the ribbon off and ripping the paper. The box was neutral, which made her even more nervous. She opened the lid.

Inside, she was met with a ring. An evil eye ring made of yellow gold, with the centre of the eye bedazzled with a black diamond, circled by two bands of rich blue diamonds, and finished off with regular diamonds outlining and filling out the rest of the eye shape. Her breath hitched in her throat audibly as she stared at it and took in its beauty. She couldn’t believe William got this for her. She couldn’t believe he…he…

“I hope you like it,” she heard William’s voice say softly. “I know rings are…well, whatever, but…I saw it and I thought of you. It…it went beyond when you told me your dad was Persian. The blue…it sounds stupid, but the blue reminded me of your tattoo. The waves. Like now whenever I see anything blue I think of you and your tattoo and the waves and stuff, and…and—” he was rambling, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop, “—and I just figured, I don’t know, you always wear nice jewelry, nice rings, and this can be part of it. And it’ll protect you, according to tradition or whatever. And maybe, I don’t know, every time you look down at your hand and see the ring, you’ll be reminded of me.”

Aberdeen took every word to heart. She’d been looking at him the entire time, and her heart was so full by the end of his rambling that she couldn’t think straight; she couldn’t think of what to say, how to say it, how to thank him, how to truly express how much she loved it, so she did the only thing she could think to do. The only thing she couldn’t do.

She kissed him.

It was slow at first, and it took William aback – never in a million years did he think Aberdeen would initiate any kiss, let alone a kiss on her bed while they were alone in her bedroom after he’d crashed her family’s Christmas celebrations – but eventually, and gradually, the kiss deepened and became more passionate, with William’s hand going lightly to her hip, and Aberdeen’s hand resting gently on his thigh. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing on her bed, William absolutely basking in the feeling, as if a thousand lightning bolts were moving through his body all at once, having waited for months – six months – to feel his lips against hers again. It intoxicated him as much now as it did that night in June so long ago; perhaps even more so now, now that he knew what her lips felt like but was denied for so long, only to be given the luxury again. He was drunk on the feeling.

It was only until William couldn’t help himself, when Aberdeen felt a slip of his tongue against her lips, that she was brought back down to earth, only for her to pull away quickly. “Oh God,” she worried. “I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

William half smiled as he bit down on his bottom lip. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anybody.”

She felt William’s hand on her hip move to hold her hand that was resting on his thigh. He held it so warmly, still looking at her, and rubbed circles onto her hand. His touch was so delicate, so tender. So unlike other touches she’d experienced, other touches she never wanted to experience again. “Will?”

“Hmm?” he licked his lips.

She finally met his eye. “I…I never thanked you for going to Brendan about…you know…” she trailed off.

His face shifted. “Aberdeen—”

“No – please,” she interrupted him, looking down nervously at their fingers that had now entangled with each other’s on his lap. She didn’t know why she couldn’t look him in the eye. She’d just kissed him, for God’s sake. “I never thanked you. Or Pierre for that matter. If you guys hadn’t gone to Brendan, I’d still have to be dealing with him, and…and I just…”

“Aberdeen, you don’t need to thank me for doing the right thing. Anybody would have done the same thing,” William said. “Believe me. Any one of those guys in the locker room would have done the same thing. Pierre and I actually made the decision to wait until after the holidays to tell everyone what happened so they wouldn’t get upset before Christmas.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. “Why? They…they’d get upset?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course they’d get upset,” William said. “Jason would have gone insane if he knew. The guy has four girls. Auston, Morgan, Kappy – everyone thinks you’re a bit of nerd or whatever, but they’d all go to bat for you. And everyone’s gonna be really upset when they hear about it. Actually, they’ll probably get mad at me for not telling them so they couldn’t whoop Ethan’s ass themselves.”

Aberdeen never considered that. She knew the guys liked her well enough, but she never considered that they liked her enough that they’d be upset something like that happened to her. She never considered that they’d be protective of her in that way. For all that she was Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant and on the administrative side of things, she never felt part of the team more than she did in this moment, in her room alone with William Nylander.

“Can you…can you tell me something?” William asked as he watched her think.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…you know, what Ethan was doing?”

There was the million dollar question. Aberdeen didn’t want to admit why. She didn’t want to admit to William that the reason she didn’t tell him was because she didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to get involved, didn’t want to endanger his position in any way with the team by him speaking up on her behalf. She didn’t want to tell him it was because she didn’t think it was worth it. But she knew she had too. She took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t think you cared that much,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t think that it was…you know…worth caring about, even.”

It was William’s turn to furrow his brows. He looked pained, physically pained, at the words that had just escaped her mouth. “You’re always worth caring about, minskatt,” he said firmly, with no space to debate his tone or words. “You’re always…fuck, Aberdeen, you’re always fucking worth it to me.”

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth; couldn’t believe how much conviction was in his voice and how much he meant each and every word. Nobody had said those words to her before. Well – no guy had said those words to her before. She remembered Zane and how he refused to acknowledge how she wanted to become a writer. She remembered how, a second after she told him, William said she’d make a great writer even though he’d never read any of her work. To William, she was worth it; in every sense of the word, she was worth it. She was worth late night walks back to her apartment. She was worth sneaking into hotel rooms at night. She was worth calls to Sugo and paying extra to get dinner long after they closed down. She was worth sneaking around to get her phone number, and her parents’ address to show up for Christmas. She was worth spending whatever amount of money on a ring that reminded him of her. She was worth it. She was worth it all.

She moved closer to him again.

Closer.

And closer.

And…

“Aberdeen!” she heard Camden scream her voice down the hallway. So he apparently knew they were in her room. She and William moved at lightning speed not to be so close to each other. She shoved the box into her bedside table. Camden’s loud footsteps echoed down the hallway until they stopped outside her door.

Camden at least had the knowledge to knock. She’d yelled at him one too many times for him to forget. “Come in,” she said, her voice still a bit shaky from what had almost just happened.

He opened the door and stuck his head through. “William promised he’d play some hockey with me in the driveway before he left,” he said.

“William and I are talking right now,” she said quickly, trying to get him to go away.

“About what?”

“About work stuff.”

“What’s happening at work?”

“Camden.”

“Is Mitch Marner okay?”

“Can you give us maybe, like, five or ten minutes to solve this problem?” William asked. “I’ll meet you in the driveway after that. Practice your stickhandling so I can show you what to improve on.”

Camden nodded his head quickly and closed the door behind him as he rushed back down the hallway, yelling at his dad to open the garage and get his hockey stick. William looked at Aberdeen and laughed as she let out a breath in one long sigh, giggling to herself before shaking her head. “God…what am I doing?” she mumbled to herself.

“Realizing you’re worth it,” William said quickly, inching closer to her and kissing her again. It was nice, and it was innocent, and it was beautiful, and it was lovely, but it was also wrong. Aberdeen pulled back quicker than last time, but William didn’t seem to mind. He knew this kiss was gratuitous – an extra gift. “I can’t wait to see you on the plane to New Jersey wearing that ring,” he mumbled, grabbing her hand and holding it in his.

She stiffened for a second. “I can’t wear that to work.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s from you. Everyone’s gonna ask about it.”

“Have any of the guys, including Brendan, ever asked about any piece of jewelry you’ve worn before?” he deadpanned. Okay, so he had a point. “Besides, just tell them it was a Christmas gift from your parents.”

She shook her head. “You underestimate how good of a liar I am.”

“You spent six months lying trying to convince yourself you didn’t like me.”

She blushed. Okay, so he had another point. “Touché, Will.”

He licked his lips, biting down on the bottom one gently. “Why’re you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Aberdeen answered. “I’m just aware of how inappropriate this is and how much I’m starting not to care anymore.”

William smiled. And he leaned in again. But before he could kiss her again – helping as best he could to get her to not care anymore – Camden’s voice boomed through the house again. “Aberdeeeeen!”

She practically growled at another moment ruined. “Camden!” she screamed out.

This time, he didn’t bother to knock when he opened the bedroom door. He poked his head through again. “Do you know someone who drives a black Porsche Cayenne?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. As if she knew more than one person who drove a car that expensive. “My boss does…” she said.

“Well, it’s in the driveway.”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head. She shot up from her seat and grabbed William and dragged him towards her closet. “Is that—” he tried to ask.

“Quiet.”

“Is that Brendan?” he asked as she practically tore her closet door off her hinges to open it. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t fucking know!” she exclaimed in one of those loud, frantic whispers. “Do you honestly think if I knew he was coming sometime today I would have let you stay in my house this long? Now shut up.”

“Aber—oooooowwwwww!” he protested as she grabbed the top of his head and pushed him down and into her closet like he was getting into the back of a cop car. He belonged in a cop car, Aberdeen thought, for showing up at her house on Christmas. “Aberdeen!”

“Shut up!” she said hurriedly, putting her hand over his mouth. “If you value your life as well as mine you will stay in here and stay quiet until I come get you,” she warned, closing the closet door in his face.

“Who’s that now?” Orla asked as Aberdeen hurried to the front of the house, where she saw her mother looking out the window. “We don’t know people who drive Porsches.”

“It’s for me. It’s my boss. Brendan Shanahan. The president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” Aberdeen informed everyone. She saw Siena send a panicked look her way.

“Oh, did you invite him to Christmas too now and he just came late?” Orla joked.

“Is he here to see William?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen took a deep breath. She felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest. “Everybody listen,” she said loudly. “Brendan cannot know William was here…is here.”

“Why can’t Brendan know about W—”

“I’ll lose my job, okay?” she said quickly. Her parents’ eyes widened. “Brendan doesn’t like the players, uh…he doesn’t…just please, please don’t ask me to explain. Just take my word for it. Just don’t mention anything and…please be normal.” She knew Siena already knew. And she knew her parents were good for it – though she’d have to explain to them in more detail later. It was Camden she was worried about. She looked down at him. “You say a word about William being here and I take that Kyle Lowry jersey back and tell everyone at your school that you still sleep with Bubby.”

Bubby was the stuffed giraffe Camden got as a kid. He slept with it religiously when he was small, but he didn’t still sleep with it, though it stayed perched on his shelf. Camden grimaced but understood the ultimatum his sister was giving him – no kid would ever recover from that rumour being spread. “Fine.”

Their doorbell rang. Mirza moved to open the door. He couldn’t even see Brendan’s face – it was obstructed by a giant basket. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed, noticing it was teetering a bit. “Let me help, let me help!” he said, taking some of the weight of the basket. “Come in! Come in!” he moved backwards, and the two men balanced the basket on the half-wall that separated the entrance from the front family room.

Aberdeen felt like she was going to faint. Brendan Shanahan was now in her front entrance while William Nylander was stuffed in her bedroom closet. “You must be Mr. Bloom,” Brendan said, extending his hand to shake. “And Mrs. Bloom,” he said once he noticed Orla, shaking her hand too. “I’m Brendan Shanahan – I’m Aberdeen’s boss.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Brendan,” Orla smiled. “Aberdeen speaks so highly of you.”

He waved and smiled at Aberdeen. Then he noticed Siena and Camden. “You must be Siena,” he smiled at her, “and Camden.” Camden nodded enthusiastically and silently. “I don’t mean to intrude on your Christmas,” Brendan held up his hands slightly. “I just – well, my family and I are on our way to my mother’s house in Mimico. I’m an Etobicoke boy too, you see. And when Aberdeen told me her mother was another Belfast lass, well, I had to see for myself.”

Orla giggled. Mirza had a smile on his face. “Irish too, then? Well, with a name like Shanahan, how could you not be?” Orla quipped.

“I don’t mean to stay long – we’re already late as is – but I just wanted to pass this gift along as a token of my thanks and gratitude,” he said, motioning to the giant wrapped basket. It had an assortment of things in it that Aberdeen couldn’t make out because she was scared William was going to scream out from the closet or walk around the corner any second and then she’d be out of a job. She knew Camden would take it all apart the second Brendan left, anyway.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Mr. Shanahan—” Orla said.

“No no, I insist. It’s the least I could do,” he said. “I’m sorry for taking your daughter away from you so much and having her travel to every corner of this continent. I know it must be hard on you as parents.”

“It is,” Mirza said, “but she enjoys her job very much. She’s always letting us know about the cool things she’s doing or the cities she’s going to. She feels very fortunate to be in the position she’s in.”

“We’re very lucky to have her as a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs team,” Brendan smiled warmly. “Anyways, I’m so sorry for taking up your time,” he turned to leave.

“Don’t be sorry at all, Mr. Shanahan. This is a very lovely gift, thank you.”

As he stepped through the threshold of the doorway, he turned back. “If I want to drop by St. Leo and bring some of the boys, am I calling you?” he asked Orla.

“You bet your arse you are, because you’re not going to anyone else’s class but mine.”

Brendan smiled. “I’ll call you to arrange something, then. Have a very Merry Christmas.”

When the door closed, Aberdeen let out a sigh of relief. “Was that harmless enough, Aberdeen? Was it to your liking?” Orla asked sarcastically.

“Don’t.”

“Camden, go fetch mummy a card from the drawer in the kitchen so we can write a thank you note to Mr. Shanahan for this enormous basket full of…full of…” she stopped, eyeing the contents. Suddenly, she jumped up. “Oh Lord! Oh heavens it’s a basket of Irish and British goodies! And sweets! Oh, bless that man! Bless that man!”

Aberdeen didn’t care about sweets. She thought about William in her closet and rushed towards her room. She closed the door to her room behind her and opened the closet door to see him holding up her high school kilt, like he was examining it. “What the fuck are you doing with that?”

He smirked at her. “Can you wear this for me sometime?”

“Get out of there!” she ordered, snatching her kilt away from his hands as he giggled like the schoolgirl she once was. She hung it back up in the back of her closet. “You’re a perv.”

“Only for you,” he continued to giggle.

***

William held on to the Tupperware Orla had given him full of leftovers as he and Aberdeen stood on her front porch. Aberdeen made sure not to get too close; partly because she had a feeling that at least one member of her family was spying through a window, but also, because if she got close to him, she didn’t know what she’d do.

William had charmed her entire family. Her mother invited him back for Easter. Camden thought he was the coolest guy around. Siena understood now why Aberdeen was so drawn to him. And Mirza – well, Mirza just liked him. Thought he was a good kid. And he was a good kid. Despite his upbringing and despite his job being one of the stars of the Leafs, he was just a humble, polite, guy when he came over – just a guy from Sweden who worked with Aberdeen. Aberdeen thought that maybe that’s all he wanted to be when he was around her – just a guy from Sweden. Not William Nylander, hockey star. He certainly showed that he liked and preferred it that way.

“You’re coming to Jersey, right?” he asked. She nodded her head. “What about New Years?”

“I’ll be there,” she nodded again. “Kinda sucks that we won’t get to spend it here, though. I think this is the first New Year’s I’ll spend outside of Toronto.”

“Well it has to be extra special, then,” he smiled.

Aberdeen bit her lip. She didn’t know what that meant. A part of her didn’t want to know while another part of her did. “Will…” she began.

“Minskatt?”

“Why didn’t you ever move on from me?”

William was taken aback by the question. The notion was absurd to him. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe his answer. Was there really nobody else for him? Nobody in Sweden that summer he could have had fun with? Nobody in Toronto he could call? She didn’t know why he insisted on his life revolving around just her when she’d barely given him anything the past six months, three of which were spent in two separate continents. Was he insane? Was she?

A car pulled up in front of the house, and Aberdeen knew it was his Uber. He glanced at it before taking one last look at her. “Have a good night, Aberdeen. I’ll see you Thursday morning.”

She watched him get into the car, watched it pull out of the driveway and drive down the street. When she opened the door and stepped back into her house, she saw Siena waiting for her. “You’re fucked,” was all she said.

Aberdeen nodded. If other people could see it, then she needed to start accepting it. “I know.”

229 notes · View notes

bittywitches · 5 years

Text

Kitty Love (Ethan Dolan Fanfic)

GIF credit *@ethanhes*

A/N: I wrote this sooo long ago (literally right after the first mini home video came out??) but it didn’t even end up being all that related to the vid in the first place....lol

Basically Ethan and Y/N are childhood bffs and Y/N has never really been away from Ethan for that long before and it starts to cause some ~tension~ when she comes to see how things are going on the van

Anyways, thanks for reading, ly <3

“It seriously should not have taken you that long to get here.” Ethan grinned when he saw Y/N walk into the room.

“Hey, lay off. I’ve never been here before, it took me a while to figure it out.” She smiled back at him, pulling the straps of her backpack closer to her back.

“Yea yea.” He stretched his arms out, welcoming her into his embrace. She walked into his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “I’m so bored. Thank you so much for coming, I’d probably shoot myself by now if you didn’t show up.”

She grabbed his shoulders and looked over them, peering over at the others working on the van. Sawdust floated through the entire room, and there was overall dampness in the air that seems to come with all of the wood material around.

“Gray isn’t letting you do any work, huh?” She stepped back from him and was able to catch Grayson’s attention long enough to give him a quick wave. He smiled and waved back, then went back to sawing more wood pieces.

Ethan groaned. “Yeah.”

She shrugged. “Understandable. You can’t do shit.”

“Wow, okay. Fuck you too.”

She giggled and patted his cheek. “So, road trip, huh? Sounds pretty exciting.”

He grinned. “Yea. It’s gonna be so fun. We finally have the time to put more effort into something cool.” The next few weeks were pretty much booked solid for him, filled with one fun thing after the other. They’d take a Road trip to Jersey where he’d be able to hang out with his family for a bit, and then fly out to Australia. Sure, they were cutting it close, but that was all part of the excitement, right?

“Right. And clearly, you’re putting in TONS of effort.” She patted his chest with both hands, chuckling at him a bit. Her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit whenever she did that like there was some magic in there that came out of her with every smile. Maybe it was just the familiarity of her, but whenever Ethan saw her little dimples it sent a warm feeling throughout his chest.

Ethan and Y/N had been friends for almost forever, and she came over quite often. They’d met each other back in grade school, and became really close as they got older. He was fairly certain she wouldn’t have moved out to LA if the twins hadn’t decided to in the first place. He was confident enough to say she was his closest friend, after Grayson of course. She was his cozy place he could retreat to whenever he wanted.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Are you just here to insult me?”

“Hey, you’re the one who called me!”

“And you somehow are making me regret it.”

“Shut up.” She shoved his chest, and he smiled at her.

“So, how are you doing?”

“You ask me that as if you didn’t see me just yesterday.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “How're classes going n stuff?”

She sighed, rubbing her shoulders, which were peppered with freckles. They matched the ones on her face, and Ethan loved to run his fingers over them, dragging his finger across the freckles like he was connecting the dots to draw a bigger picture. “Alright, I guess. Everything’s been super boring lately. I just work, eat, go over to your house, and sleep.”

“Sounds pretty fun to me,” Ethan remarked.

“Yeah, well maybe you should take my classes for me and I’ll go on your little road trip.”

Ethan groaned, and she giggled. “Sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

“No no I’m not annoyed.” He rubbed her elbow. “Maybe you SHOULD come with us. That seems like it’d be more interesting than your classes.”

She laughed. “I know you’re not serious because you’d never kick Kyle off the trip.”

“Who said we’d have to kick off Kyle?”

“That bed can not fit four people!”

“Who says? You can just snuggle up real close to me.”

“Hmmm.. while that does sound appealing...” she stepped closer to him then flicked his nose with her finger, making his heart flutter. “you know that’d never work. School and whatnot.” She slumped her shoulders.

“Yea..” Ethan sighed. “Wish you could though. I’m not gonna see you for so long.”

She looked up at him, head tilted, a gentle look in her eye.

“What?”

“Nothing.” It looked like she was holding back, but she gave that up and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his chest. Ethan was caught by surprise a bit but loved the feeling of Y/N’s warmth all the same.

“You okay?” He rubbed her back gently, burying his nose into her hair.

“Yea.” She brought her hands down to rest against his chest, placing her ear next to his heart. “You won’t even be gone that long. Dunno why I feel like I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“E, come over here!” Grayson shouted from the table he was at.

Ethan groaned, annoyed that this was the moment Grayson finally decided he needed his help. “Hey, gimme a sec.” He untangled himself from Y/N, then grabbed her waist, hoisting her up onto the nearest counter. “Be right back.”

“Okayyy.” She dangled her feet, kicking them back and forth as she watched Ethan make his way over to Grayson. Her eyes lingered, as If she was trying to memorize his shape. She was right, he really wouldn’t be gone for that long, but something about not seeing his face every day hit her in a bad way.

Only then did she notice that there was a big white splotch of dust on the back of Ethan’s pants. She giggled, then yelled, “Ethan, when did you start powdering your ass?”

He turned around abruptly, looked down, and smirked as he wiped the dust off of himself. “Eyes up here, honey.”

She sniggered. “All right, hot stuff.”

“You know it!” He yelled when he turned his back to her to keep walking.

She laughed, her eyes following him somewhat wistfully.

He’s pretty cute, isn’t he? She thought.

Y/N took her bag off her back and set it down next to her on the counter. then brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. She found her eyes kept wandering back to the twins, one in particular. Ethan was wearing a loose sweatshirt and black shorts, and his hair was all ruffled up, a bit of sawdust floating around the top of his head. He had his hands planted on his hips, seeming to look deeply entranced in whatever Grayson was telling him. Y/N giggled, thinking that he probably had no idea what his brother was talking about. She loved Ethan, but his attention was all over the place. He’d never been able to keep his focus on anything for too long.

Except maybe on her.

Ethan wrapped up his conversation with Grayson and started to make his way back to Y/N. she was on her phone, kicking her feet back on forth and they were rhythmically tapping on the side of the counter. Her hair was tied back into a braid, and she was wearing a loose tank top and tights, her sweatshirt wrapped around her waist. She kept fiddling with the hair peeking out over her ear, and Ethan smiled. She seemed to always be fiddling with something, she could never sit still. It was like she could never calm herself down. She always had to be doing something.

Except maybe when with him.

“Hey, sorry about that.” He walked up to the counter.

“Oh, no problem.” She tucked her phone away into her pocket. “I’m sure you were doing something VERY important.” Her mouth quirked up.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know that this van wouldn’t be able to be built without my input.”

“Oh, yea? What was Gray asking you about?”

“...the colour of the floorboards.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were in a position to make such big decisions.”

“Shut up!” He shoved her shoulder, and she laughed.

“I’m sorry, teasing you is so fun.” She stretched her arms out for him, and Ethan boosted her off of the counter.

“Jesus, there’s so much dust everywhere.” She wiped the dust off her butt and thighs.

“I mean that’s kinda what happens when you sit on the dusty counter.”

“Which you put me on.”

“Same difference.”

“Wait, so you’re saying that your powdered ass was a result of you sitting around doing nothing while Grayson’s out here doing all the heavy work?”

“Oh my god, I’m done with you.” He walked off to the other side of the workshop and she laughed as she followed alongside him.

“I’m sorry, you make it so easy!”

——

It had been nearly an hour, and both Y/N and Ethan were bored out of their minds. They debated leaving to go hang out elsewhere, maybe go get coffee, but Ethan didn’t want to leave Grayson alone to be making all the decisions on the van. Like he was making any in the first place.

Ethan kept wandering around the room, looking around at what the others were doing, when he finally settled for a few minutes in one corner of the workshop.

“Y/N LOOK WHO I JUST FOUND.”

Y/N’s head perked up from her phone, looking around for Ethan but unable to catch his eye. “What??”

Ethan stepped around the corner, the biggest grin on his face and the cutest little kitten in his arms.

“Oh. My god.” Y/N jumped off the counter and ran up to him with a smile matching Ethan’s. “Oh my GOD he’s so cute!!”

“Right??” Ethan scratches him below the neck, causing the kitten to purr.

“Oh, you sweet little baby.” She ran her hand over his little head, scratching behind his ears. His nose twitched, and Y/N squealed in delight. “You’re a little cutie, aren’t you?” She said in a baby voice, and it felt like Ethan’s heart had doubled in size.

“Since when do you talk like that?”

“Since you started bringing me the cutest kitten ever.”

She was entranced with the little kitten, love, and adoration pouring out of her. God, she was so adorable. Ethan couldn’t help but feel like he wanted that kind of adoration from her.

“Yes, you’re just the most adorable thing ever.” She babied the cat, and Ethan couldn’t help but grin ear to ear.

“He’s so cute givehimtome.”

Y/N went to take the kitten from Ethan’s arms, but he pulled back for a moment, deciding he wanted to have some fun with Y/N for a bit.

“Hold on. This cat is precious. You have to be careful you know.”

“I know how to hold a cat!”

“This cat is a BABY. It’s our baby! I can’t be so carefree with my child!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He’s not our baby.”

Ethan gasped and cupped a hand over the kitten’s ear left ear. “Don’t you dare talk like that in front of our son!”

“Ethan come oooon I want to play with it too!”

“Our CHILD is not something to be played with, Y/N! He deserves the utmost care and to be fair I don’t think you can do it.”

“How dare you!” She lunged for the kitten but Ethan turned his back to her, holding the cat out of reach.

“Ethan careful you’re going to drop him!”

Although Y/N didn’t really think he would. To be honest, the cat seemed to be having a fun time, wiggling his tail about as Ethan held it in his arms.

“I am being careful, unlike you! You are a danger to this precious creature!”

“Ethan PLEASE! I want the fuzzy baby!” She grabbed his arm and tugged, making him turn around to face her.

“No Y/N, I can’t trust you. You need to calm down.”

“How am I supposed to come down when you won’t let me hold our son??”

Ethan immediately stopped the charade, blinking at Y/N. Y/N, surprised at Ethan’s abrupt stop, looked up at him expectedly with her arms outstretched. “Give him to me.”

He did so right away and watched how Y/N’s expression of annoyance quickly morphed into one of excitement.

“You called him our son.”

“I did what I had to do so I could hold him.”

“Uhuh. Sure.”

She rolled her eyes once more and turned her back to him. “I’m walking away now.”

“No you’re not, we need to discuss this! What does this mean for our son??”

“Ethan!”

——

Nearing the end of the day, the rest of the boys and Grayson were finishing up their work on the van.

“E, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.”

Y/N rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn. “Let’s go home.”

“Come on...” he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. “They’re almost done.”

“That’s what they say.” She groaned and leaned into his chest.

“C'mon. Let’s go.” She grabbed his sweatshirt and started to tug him.

“Y/N...”

“Pleaaaase.” She groaned. “I’m exhausted.”

He was tempted, but he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he left Grayson without saying anything.

“Okay... hold on.”

He shouted over to Gray. “Yo! Y/N’s tired, I’m taking her home!”

Gray shot him a thumbs-up, and Ethan turned back to her. “Alright, let's go.”

“Wait. Go where?”

Ethan blinked at her. “Are you high or something?”

“No!”

“You just asked if we could go home. So now I’m taking you home.”

“My home?”

“Okay, are you seriously alright? Did you breathe in too much sawdust?” He creased his eyebrows.

“Ethan!”

“YES, your home.”

“No wait, I meant your place. Let’s go to your place.”

Ethan raised her eyebrows at her. “This late?”

“I’ll just sleepover.”

“But you have class tomorrow morning.”

Who cares?

“You can drive me.”

“I don’t think I’ll have time to..”

Seeing her face drop made him change his mind completely.

“Yea. I can do that.”

She grinned and pumped her fists into the air. “Yusss, I’m gonna get cuddles.”

Ethan’s faces flushed, and he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Nope. You will drown in my cuddles.”

She grabbed his sweatshirt and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her nose almost touching his. Ethan’s jaw had dropped just a tiny bit, not knowing what to do, being so close to her. His face heated up so fast, it felt like Y/N could almost feel it, but she laughed. “Carry me to the car?”

“Oh my god, you lazy ass.”

“Hmph.” She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, then rested her head on his shoulder. Ethan grabbed her thighs and held her tightly, grinning like a fool.

“What’re you smiling about?” Y/N asked him slyly.

“Nothin’.” He said, making his way towards the car.

“Dumbass.” She murmured, smiling into his sweatshirt.

---------

“Open the door, it’s freezing.” Y/N shivered, retreating into the sweatshirt Ethan gave her while in the car.

“Okay, okay. Hold on.” Ethan’s hands fumbled in the cold, shoving the key into the lock and jiggling it vigorously before the door opened.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his red-tinted ears and nose. She could tell he was cold, but he was trying to hide it. Though not very well, because along with his shivering fingers, him shifting his weight from side to side while searching for the key was a dead giveaway. She felt kind of bad taking his sweatshirt, but she also loved that he was willing to do that for her.

“Okay, it’s open.” He huffed.

“Finally.” Y/N ran into the house, kicking her shoes off at the door. “How can it be this cold in LA?”

“We’ve been spoiled by the heat.” He closed the door behind him, placing his shoes next to hers by the door. “Canada would make us it’s bitch.”

“Honestly, yea.” Y/N grabbed Ethan's hand to drag him to his room, but let out a small gasp. “Jesus, your hands are freezing.”

“Yea, because somebody stole my sweatshirt.”

“You gave it to me!”

“Whatever.”

She grumbled. “Okayyy I’m sorry. I’ll give you extra cuddles while we watch a movie to make up for it.”

“Hey, you have school tomorrow.” His eyes softened and he pulled her into his chest, and she huffed into his T-shirt.

“Whatever.” She mocked him.

“Dude, it’s late.” He looked down at her. “You’re not gonna be able to wake up in the morning.”

“Yea I will.” She shoved him gently. “We’ll watch it on your laptop, then I can just fall asleep on your bed.”

“Y/N…”

“Come onnnn.” She tugged on his arm, and he sighed in defeat.

“Okay! Just let me go make some tea or something.” She nodded, letting his hand go so he could leave for the kitchen. “My laptop is on my bed, just pick a movie, ‘kay?”

She gave him a thumbs-up, then made her way to his bedroom. She plopped down onto his bed, grabbing the laptop then throwing the covers over her. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders at the familiar environment of Ethan’s bedroom.

Although...

What am I doing here?

Y/N sighed, slumping down further into the mattress. What was she doing here? She had come over to Ethan’s house at midnight, in hopes of watching a movie with him on a weekday? With school tomorrow? What was she doing?

God, I’m so into him, aren’t I?

She groaned, pulling the covers over her head in defeat. The overwhelming smell of Ethan from the sheets only helped fuel her frustration. She grunted, throwing the sheets off of her, trying to free her nose of the scent.

“ETHAN!” She yelled for him.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She heard his voice echoing down the hall, followed by his footsteps. He pushed the door open with his side, both of his hands being occupied by two cups of warm tea. He sat himself down on the edge of the bed and handed her one of the cups. “Here.”

She looked at him warily, trying her hardest to take the cup without touching his fingers, which got a weird look from Ethan. She took a sip of the tea.

She groaned.

It was perfect. Exactly how she liked it.

“Oh my god, you suck ass.” She swatted his shoulder in frustration.

“What?” His eyebrows creased. “I swear I did the way you usually do. I soaked the tea bag for exactly three minutes, added the teaspoon of sugar before the milk, and then just one spoon of honey-”

“GOD, I hate you so much.” She shoved him in the shoulder again, groaning as she laid her head back onto the headboard.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Y/N mumbled.

“Are you mad at me or something?”

“No!” she said, flustered.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

“Ethan, NO!”

“Then what the fuck are you so pissy about?”

“NOTHING, okay?” She set her tea on the side table and pulled the laptop towards her aggressively. “Jesus.”

Ethan tilted his head at her. “Y/N?”

“What do you want?” She looked up at him menacingly.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Will you just tell me what the matter is?”

“There is no matter to tell you.”

“If you don’t tell me I won’t watch the movie with you.”

“I have nothing to say!”

He took her hand. She almost flinched, his warm hand sending a shock throughout her entire body. She looked at him, and his eyes were concentrated on her. “Tell me.”

She lost herself in a few seconds of bliss, but then yanked her hand away. “Get out of my face.”

He huffed. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to tell me what it is, just tell me if I’m the reason you’re all grumpy.”

Are you kidding?

She groaned. “Ethan… please just watch the movie.” She shimmied over patting the seat next to her.

He shook his head. “Tell me first.”

She sighed. “Okay. fine.” She took a deep breath. “You are the reason.”

Ethan leaned back, seeming a bit bewildered. “Okay. don’t know what I was expecting you to say, but kind of didn’t want it to be that.” he waited for her to respond, to give him something, anything, but she just awkwardly stared at the laptop screen.

He sat there for a moment, wondering what exactly to say to her. He looked like he really wanted to ask her what this was all about, but he knew he couldn’t. He said that he wouldn’t.

“Okay then.” He got up. “Did you pick a movie?”

Y/N was so lost in her own thoughts, she had practically forgotten about choosing one. “Oh, yea. Sure. Just lemme check.”

“Alright, just let me text Gray real quick, okay?” She nodded. Ethan sat down at his desk chair, swiveling it around so he faced her. He took out his phone and began typing up whatever it was he was going to send to his brother.

Y/N watched him, warily from the bed. She didn’t know what to do. There were so many things going through her head at once. She wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know why she was there. She wanted him to know why she wanted to watch a movie. She wanted him to know how she felt. She wanted him to feel the same way.

She wanted him.

“Hey, E.”

“Mhm?”

“Look at me.”

He looked up at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

She looked at his eyes for a moment, the brown and hazelnut seeming to warm her from the inside. She took in every part of him. His eyes, his nose, his pesky hair that never stayed in one place. His beauty marks and almost non-existent acne scars, his sharp jawline and his stubble. His somehow still tinted ears, his dimples, his soft pink lips.

Huh.

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t react at first, not seeming to follow. Then a quick flash of a smile, thinking it was a joke. But as he realized she was serious, his eyes widened, the colour from his ears now flushing to his face.

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

He moved his mouth, but couldn’t seem to form any words. “I don’t-”

“Ethan kiss me before I change my mind.”

He seemed frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. He didn’t seem to understand the words she had just said. He stared at her, running his eyes over her, landing finally on her lips. He’d tried so hard to keep his eyes away from them, but now he couldn’t help it. They were all he wanted.

She was all he wanted.

He got up, cupped her face with his hands, and pressed his greedy lips to hers. A moan escaped Y/N’s lips, and Ethan smiled against them when he heard that heavenly sound. Her face flushed, feeling the smile on Ethan’s lips, and she pulled away.

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry. You’re fucking adorable.”

“God, I HATE you!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him again. He leaned forward, pushing her all the way down so she laid down on the bed, and he held himself over her, propping himself up with his arms on either side of her. He deepened the kiss, not able to get enough of the taste of her lips. He pulled back, smiling at her.

“I thought you were mad at me.”

She glanced away from him. “Well, I was.”

He laughed. “For what?”

“For not taking a hint!” She couldn’t help but giggle.

“It’s not my fault that you’re 90% sarcasm.”

“It’s not my fault that you have such a thick skull.”

“You are so ruining this.”

“Shut up!”

He leaned down once more, kissing her again. She sighed, letting her arms make their way up his arms and back around his neck. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her jaw, then her neck.

She blushed, hard. “Ethan!!” she pushed him up so they were both sitting upright, sitting as close to each other as possible.

“Cmon, this is the least I can do for catching on so late.”

She smiled at him, then laid her head against his shoulder. “How about we just watch a movie instead?”

He grinned like a fool. “Sounds amazing.”

313 notes · View notes

kasdeyathebitterwoman · 4 years

Text

Running Mate - Part 10

Here we are, folks! Part 10 of the series!! I’m so happy with the response to this whole series! Please let me know if you’ve got any ideas, suggestions, or if you’d like to be included in the tag’ list!

Word Count: 4,446

CW: none, fluffy!

taglist:

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @oddsnendsfanfics @henrycavillluv32 @blossom-a @jhenno2002 @xceafh @severuined @queenslandlover-93 @thummbelina @chamomilebottom @fanfictionaddiction99 @deep-in-my-thoughts13

The days by yourself in your flat after Cannes and Jersey were some of the hardest you’d experienced in a while. You were going through extreme Henry withdraws. You missed the way he hummed to himself while he did anything. Mostly you missed his presence. Henry, though large and apparent as he was, had a calming, easy going nature about him. Rarely did anything affect him so much that he flew off the handle or outraged him in any way. You, on the other hand, were generally a case of nerves covered up with sarcasm and wit.

To deal with your lack of Henry, you dumped yourself into work. While you were away, James acquired more footage that needed to be scrubbed, color corrected, and catalogued. So, you got to work. In the mornings, you would go for a short run, get dressed in comfortable clothes, edit for hours, break for lunch, go back to editing, and only stop when your eyes felt like they were literally on fire. Slowly, you were realizing this way of life was starting to weigh on you. It wasn’t that you didn’t love your life, you absolutely did. But since meeting Henry, you were beginning to feel things you had never experienced before. For the first time ever, you were thinking about the future.

Occasionally, you dared sneak a peek online. The rumor mill spread theories about your relationship with Henry like wildfire. All the theories made you laugh, but what was really eating at you was the lack of communication from National Geographic. Over two weeks ago, James had sent in the beginnings of your proposal for a documentary with them and nothing. Not a peep or a confirmation or anything.

“You need to focus on something else,” Henry said to you one day. He’d come by to pick you up with Kal and the three of you went for a walk. Holding his hand, you instantly felt better, but the nerves were still there.

“I know, that’s what I’ve been trying to do,” you said. You’d explained to Henry all the work you had been doing for James since getting back, but it didn’t seem to help much.

“Well maybe figuring out what you want for your birthday will help,” Henry offers and you glance at him, scoffing a little.

“I already told what I want,” you reply.

“I’m not buying you that t-shirt,” Henry says firmly and you feign mock indignation. The other day you found a woman that will print just about anything on a t-shirt. You put together what ‘Unidentified Woman’ would look like and sent it to Henry as a gift idea. Clearly, he still wasn’t buying into it.

“I don’t know why,” you say, but Henry cuts you off.

“Because it’s ridiculous and you’re going to wear it in public,” he says to you. He’s trying so hard to be serious, but you can see the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“That’s the point!” you exclaim, but Henry just rolls his eyes and chuckles a little. “Okay, fine, what about the keychain?” you ask, reminding him of keychain option. He snorts.

“I might consider that,” he says. “But that can’t be your only gift,” he adds.

“Why not?” you whine, dramatically sticking your bottom lip out. Henry sees you and a massive grin breaks out across his face.

“I want to get you something special,” he says, smiling at you.

“What have I done to suggest that either the t-shirt or keychain would not make feel special?” you ask emphatically.

“God, you’re ridiculous,” Henry snorts, rolling his eyes. You beam up at him.

“It’s part of my charm,” you say, smiling wide and a little awkwardly.

“It’s something, but it ain’t charm,” Henry says, glancing at you sideways.

“Won you over, though, didn’t I?” you point out.

“The jury’s still out,” Henry replies and you bark with laughter. After walking around with Henry and Kal, you find yourself back in your home office. You’re reviewing footage that James had sent you, but your mind keeps thinking about that proposal. You grab your phone and check it every five minutes. You do that for an hour before you practically toss your phone in the drawer and decide that if you haven’t heard anything in three weeks, by your birthday, you were just going to move on.

In three weeks time, when you still hadn’t heard anything, you began to feel discouraged. Though you were still getting plenty of work through James and other clients, you were feeling as though something was wrong. While you did your best, Henry noticed the subtle changes in your behavior. You were quieter then usual and generally less sarcastic. It pain him to see you this way, but he was sure the birthday surprise he had planned for you would brighten your spirits. The morning of your birthday, Henry calls you.

“Well good morning, sugar,” you say, answering the phone. Though it was relatively early, you were already up and working. Henry could hear you typing.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he replies. “And happy birthday,” he adds. You can hear the excitement in his voice and it makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you say, feeling genuine happiness. An email notification pops up on your computer screen so you click on it. “Holy crap,” you mutter, seeing the subject line.

“What?” Henry asks, concerned.

“Uh, hold please,” you say, keeping the phone to your ear. Silently, you read through the email.

Dear Y/n,

This is Jonathan with the London National Geographic office. We received your proposal example for the project we discussed. Our office has had a chance to review it and we would like to make you a formal offer. If you accept, you will have complete access to our libraries and database for further research and development. Please respond to this email or contact me at the number listed below to move forward with this contract. I look forward to hearing from you.

Best,

J.P.

You read through the email three more times before you realize you’re crying.

“Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap,” you mutter, staring at the screen.

“Babe, what’s going on?” Henry asks.

“I got it,” you whisper, still in disbelief. “I got it. I got the contract,” you say louder.

“What?” Henry asks, surprised.

“I’m going to work with National Geographic. I’m going to Peru!” you exclaim, jumping up from your computer. “Holy crap!” you yell, dancing around your office.

“Y/n, that’s amazing!” Henry exclaims through the phone. “I told you you’d get it!” he points out and you laugh.

“Oh my gosh, I have to call James!” you say suddenly. Henry chuckles.

“Tell him in person. He and I planned to celebrate your birthday today,” Henry explains. “I’ll meet you at his house in an hour,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply wistfully. When you hang up with Henry, you stand in your office dumbstruck. You can’t believe that you did it. You got the job. Wiping away the tears that have fallen down your face, you dart off into your bedroom to start getting dressed. Forty five minutes later, you are driving through the country side on the way to James’ house. There is a smile that hasn’t left your face since you read that email and you couldn’t wait to tell James.

When you pull up to the house, you see that Henry has beaten you there. He’s getting out of his car right as you pull up. You’ve barely put your car in park and turned it off before you are dashing out of the car and flying across the gravel to him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, beaming as you practically float above the ground. As soon as you are close to him, you jump into his arms. Henry wraps those solid arms around your frame, lifts you, and spins you around right there in the driveway. You giggle as you kiss him passionately. Henry sets you down and smiles down at your beaming face.

“I got the contract,” you state, looking up at his familiar and loving eyes. “I am going to work with National Geographic. I am going to make a documentary with National Geographic. I am going to make a documentary with National Geographic in Peru,” you stop to take in a breath, realizing just how much is about to change. Henry places his hands gently on either side of your face.

“I knew you would get it,” he says quietly and don’t even try to stop the smile that forms on your lips. “Now, come on,” he says, letting go of your face and taking a hold of your hand. “We have a birthday to celebrate,” he pulls you towards James’ house. You smile at his back, feeling incredible. There is nothing in the world that could possibly top the high you are experiencing in this moment. Oh how wrong you were.

Henry steps aside and lets you open the door. Confused, you oblige, but almost dart right back out due to fear. The moment you cleared the doorway, several voices called out, “Happy birthday!” startling you. As soon as you regain your composure, you look around and realize your family is here. Jeremy and his wife; Kevin and his girlfriend; Kyle and his boyfriend; your parents.

“WHAT?!” you screech, looking around with your hands over your mouth.

“What’s up, booger,” Kevin calls out and you stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Kevin,” you mom says disapprovingly. She steps towards you with her arms out. “Hi, baby,” she says, pulling you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around her and take in her scent. You mom smelled like vanilla and grass and it was the most amazing thing ever.

“Hi momma,” you murmur. She squeezes you a little then lets you go. Right behind her is your dad, who quietly pulls you in for a hug.

“When did you get here? How did you get here?” you ask, looking from her to your dad. They smile at you, then look to Henry. You turn to him, the question in your eyes.

“Happy birthday, y/n,” he says simply, smiling warmly at you. You smile at him with tears in your eyes. You reach out and hug him tightly. Letting go of the hug, you escort him around the room, making the rounds and introducing him to everyone. You start with your parents.

“Henry, this is my mom, Helen and my dad, Thomas,” you explain, pointing to each respectively. With a warm smile, Henry shakes their hands.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Henry,” Helen says and you nod.

“Yeah, thanks for doing this for us,” Thomas adds and you realize you don’t know who planned this.

“Speaking of, can someone please explain to me how you came to be here?” you ask and Henry smiles wide. Before he can say anything, though, Kyle answers.

“Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much,” he begins. Henry is already laughing, but you are rolling your eyes.

“Henry, this is my brother Kyle,” you say. “He’s the weird one,” you state and Kyle scoffs.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorts, rolling his eyes at you.

“Y/n, Kyle,” your mom starts, disapprovingly. “Henry, I’m so sorry, they are always bickering,” she says, looking pointedly at the two of you.

“It’s not my fault he always starts things,” you say as Kyle scoffs.

“Oh, puh-lease,” Kyle proclaims. “You always start it,” he points a finger at you.

“Get your finger out of my face,” you say cooly.

“It’s not in your face,” Kyle replies, still pointing.

“Yes, it is,” you say, batting away his finger. Huffing, Kyle slaps at your hand resulting in the two of you getting into a hand slapping fight. Helen and Thomas laugh and look at Henry with an apologetic look.

“Alright, knock it off,” Thomas demands after a moment and the two of you stop. You and Kyle are huffing slightly, though also giggling at the same time. Moments later, Marshall, Kyle’s boyfriend saddles up to the four of you, introducing himself to Henry. When you catch a break, you pull Henry toward your older brother Jeremy.

“Henry, this is Gary, my older brother,” you say, smiling wide at him. Jeremy rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy,” he says to Henry, overemphasizing the pronunciation of his name. “Y/n still calls me Gary because she couldn’t say Jeremy when she was little,” he explains and Henry chuckles, bobbing his head in understanding.

“She also couldn’t say ‘Burger King’,” Kevin says, stepping next to Jeremy. “She kept calling it ‘Booger King’, so we just started calling her booger,” he states, smiling devilishly at you.

“Ha. Ha,” you bark, snarling at Kevin. Jeremy shakes his head at you and sighs. Avoiding a fight with Kevin, you make a point to introduce Henry to Rebecca - Jeremy’s wife and Ellen - Kevin’s girlfriend. Everyone greets Henry with warmth and kindness. The rest of the morning you spend your time joking with your brothers and checking to make sure Henry was okay. Your family almost loses it when you announce that you have landed a contract with National Geographic. Though you can’t go over the details, they are thoroughly impressed. That admiration takes a quick nose dive moments later as Kevin and Kyle make a point to incessantly tease you about it. Eventually, your mom makes it clear she wants to do something that will prevent you and your brothers from fighting. Already, you and Kevin had gotten into a battle of wits which ended up in a yelling match.

“You’re not my favorite person today,” you bark at Kevin.

“I’m not your favorite person any day,” he replies and you just sneer at him, getting ready to reply, but your mom intervenes.

“Enough! Goodness, y’all are meaner than hornets in a coke can!” she exclaims. Her cute sayings always have a way of softening even the hardest of the hard. You glance at Kevin who gives you a look that asks for a truce. You nod gently in agreement. “How about we give our gifts to y/n?” Helen glares pointedly at Kevin. He agrees and makes the announcement to everyone what is going on. Everyone runs to their luggage to get what they need, then reconvene in James’ living room. Your parents start by handing you a heavy box. Opening it, you find a framed review about your documentary in the West Virginia Times.

“Holy shi-,” you begin to say before cutting yourself off. “This is amazing!” you show Henry who admires it before passing it to James. You jump up and hug your parents, thanking them profusely for the gift. Next, Jeremy hands you a small box covered in Superman wrapping paper. “Oh my gosh,” you mutter, laughing as you show Henry.

“The girls bought it for you,” Jeremy explains. “And Dylan picked out the wrapping paper,” he adds. Opening the gift, you find a large heart shaped locket.

“Awww,” you pull it out to show everyone who also coo at the costume jewelry. Putting it on, your mom snaps a picture of it as does Becca, so she can show the girls later. Kevin and Ellen hand you a small box as well. Inside is a beautiful journal that Ellen admits is handmade by Kevin. He smiles sheepishly as you admire the leather bound book with pride. Kyle gives you a family portrait that he drew and framed. Marshall gives you a hilarious Dolly Parton salt and pepper shaker that he found in an antique store in Austin. James hands you his gift, which is a framed poster for your movie that was sent to the different film festivals. You show your mom who wipes away tears as she hands it to your dad. Finally, it’s Henry’s turn. He hands you what appears to be a t-shirt box wrapped in lavender paper, your favorite color. Tearing open the box and seeing what’s inside you begin to laugh hysterically. Turning the box around you show your family a stack of Superman comic books.

“I’m helping to round out her collection,” Henry explains sending you into another fit of hysterical laughing. Your family laughs along with you, though a little confused since they aren’t aware of the context. While you laugh, your mom gets up and moves into the kitchen. She comes out with a chocolate cake covered in frosting and candles. While eating, Henry chats with Jeremy, explaining that he got you the comic books to make up for the overwhelming Batman collection.

“That’s probably my fault,” Jeremy replies. “I was a huge fan of the Adam West Batman show growing up. I kind of forced her to watch with me,” he says and Henry chuckles.

“I’m actually a fan of Batman as well,” he says to a surprised Jeremy. “Yeah, I grew up reading all the comic books. My brothers and I were obsessed with Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman - all of them,” he says. Jeremy nods in agreement. A commotion cuts through the conversation as everyone turns to see you and Kyle wrestling over something. Kyle gets the drop on you and ends up half sitting, half laying on your back.

“UGH!” you scream. “You’re crushing my spleen!”

“You don’t even know where your spleen is,” Kyle retorts before getting off of you. Jeremy chuckles and shakes his head.

“Those two,” he mutters mostly to himself, but also to Henry.

“All of you, but those two specifically, remind me of my own brothers and I,” Henry states and Jeremy laughs.

“Constant chaos and blood?” Jeremy asks and Henry snorts.

“Pretty much,” He says, laughing.

“How many brothers do you have?” Jeremy asks.

“Three older and one younger,” he says. Jeremy looks at him wide eyed.

“Five boys?” he hisses after doing the mental math. “Well shoot, I thought we were trouble with three, but five?” he repeats. Henry laughs and nods his head.

“Yeah, the uh, the Cavill boys were known pretty well across the island,” Henry says, chuckling. The two watch as Thomas steps over to where Kyle and you are, giving the two of you stern, disapproving looks. You trot over to Jeremy and Henry, obliging your dad’s orders to walk away.

“Hey, what are y’all talking about?” you ask.

“Jeremy’s just telling me all of your embarrassing stories,” Henry says, giving you a haughty look.

“Ha!” you bark. “Jeremy doesn’t even know half of them!” Jeremy shakes his head slightly.

“I don’t even want to know the half I already know,” he states and you bob your head. Henry chuckles, shaking his head at you. The day progresses with you and Henry having varying conversations with just about everyone in your family. You chat with Rebecca about the kids and with Ellen about teaching. Kyle tells you about the different art projects he’s been commissioned to create as well as the gallery Marshall is hosting for him later in the year. Eventually, someone convinces Jeremy to bring out the guitar.

“Jeremy was basically a musical prodigy, but he wanted to do more than pluck guitar strings, so he became a firefighter,” you explain to Henry, who watches your brother with new admiration. Sitting on the couch, Jeremy tunes his guitar while everyone murmurs. Then he plays a few strings effortlessly, before looking around the room.

“What would you like to hear?” he asks. No one says anything at first, so Jeremy just starts playing. It takes you a second to get the song in your head, but soon you realize he’s playing a Los Lonely Boys song. “Blame it On Love” to be exact. Knowing the song well, you harmonize with him as he plays and sings with ease. You catch a glimpse of Henry out of the corner of your eye. He’s watching you sing, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. When Jeremy finishes the first song, you feel Henry’s eyes boring into you.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” he murmurs, looking down at you surprised.

“Not really,” you reply and hear Jeremy snort.

“That’s a load of bull,” he calls out, thumbing a few strings. “Y/n performed in her 8th grade talent show with this song right here,” he states, beating the opening bars of “Born To Fly” by Sarah Evans on the base of the guitar. You tip your head back and laugh deeply before singing along to one of your favorite songs from your childhood. Your brothers join in when necessary to harmonize, adding layers to the impromptu mini-concert. Occasionally, you’d catch Henry’s eye. You could see him watching you with awe the entire time and you feel yourself turning red as you continue. When it’s done, everyone claps and again, you feel Henry’s eyes boring into you. As inconspicuous as possible, you glance at Henry. He’s beaming at you in a way that sends a wave of heat throughout your body.

“That was incredible,” Henry says to you excitedly. You feel your cheeks burn bright with embarrassment. “Did you win?” he asks, looking between you and Jeremy.

“Nah, I lost out to Rachel Lipinski,” you say, rolling your eyes. “All because she grew two cup sizes one month before the talent show,” you mutter and Henry chuckles at you. Jeremy plucks at the strings a little before starting “You Make it Easy” by Jason Aldean. You see Henry perk up with recognition and you watch as he mouths along to the words. Feeling bold, you stand up, tugging on his hand and pull him up with you. There, in front of your family, you dance and sway to the melody, holding Henry close to you. Pretty soon, your parents, Kevin and Ellen, as well as Kyle and Marshall have joined you. You are all dancing while Jeremy plays. “Best birthday ever,” you murmur, leaning your head onto his chest. He smiles softly, kissing the top of your head.

After Jer is done playing, everyone agrees it’s time for dinner. Henry suggests everyone get dressed up to go out to a restaurant in London. Despite trying to get your family to disagree with this idea, they think Henry’s suggestion is a great idea. You squint at him as your family rushes around the house to get ready.

“Henry, I know you paid to get everyone here,” you say to him, low. “This is too much,” you add. Henry cocks his head, looking at you with a slightly bemused look.

“Are you happy?” he asks.

“I mean, yes, but,” you huff, ready to argue more, but Henry reaches down, pulling your hand up to his lips.

“If you are happy, then all of this is worth every penny spent,” he murmurs, grazing his lips across your knuckles. Those blue eyes watch as you take a deep breath in and shift on your feet.

“This is a lot of money,” you whine.

“And I have a lot of money to spare,” he replies. You stare up at him, rolling your jaw, trying to come up with a comeback. Unfortunately, you are coming up short. Henry can see the inner battle you are having with yourself. He takes your hand and places it on his shoulder then brings your other arm up as well. “I know how much I’m spending. My intent isn’t to make you uncomfortable, but to make you happy,” he explains quietly. You sigh.

“I know,” you reply, feeling guilty. “I’m just not used to this level of attention. I’m very,” you pause, searching for the word you want to use.

“Stubborn? Hard-headed? Ridiculous?” Henry offers, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Independent,” you say through gritted teeth. He smirks.

“You know, you’d feel a lot better if you would just let me take care of you,” Henry states. Your jaw drops open.

“I do let you take care of me!” you exclaim and Henry bellows.

“You typically fight me tooth and nail,” he laughs. You scrunch your nose up at the statement. “Now, come on. Go back to your flat, get dressed, and I’ll pick you up,” he brushes your cheek. Twitching your nose, you stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him. He smiles at you as you walk away to head back to your flat. Henry picks you up about an hour later and drives you to the restaurant. Dinner with your family is a complete success. Everyone has fun eating, laughing, and teasing you about, well, everything. After dinner, everyone hugs and says goodbye. You make plans with your family to see them again tomorrow, then leave with Henry.

“I have something else for you,” Henry says when it’s just the two of you. You look up at him confused. From behind his back, he produces a small bag. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be off filming by the time our anniversary comes around," he explains as he hands you the bag. “So this is one part birthday, one part anniversary gift,” he says. Seeing the size of the bag, you gasp.

“Is this my keychain?” you whisper emphatically.

“No,” Henry chuckles.

“Well shucks, sugar,” you say. “Now I feel bad. I didn’t get you anything,” you glance up at Henry who is watching you intently.

“Your answer will be my gift,” he replies, low. You look up at him confused, but then proceed to open the gift. From the bag, you produce a small box. Your breath catches in your throat as you begin to imagine what small, shiny, circular item could be inside. Opening the lid, you don’t see what you expected. Instead, you see a set of house keys. You look up at Henry even more confused. “I know you said to wait until our anniversary, but as I said,” he trails off. You look back down at the keys as you realize what he’s asking you. “Will you move in with me?” he whispers. Your head snaps up and you look into his eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper. You can see tears in the corners of his eyes as a wide, beautiful smile breaks out across his face. “Yes,” you repeat louder. Henry responds by wrapping his arms around you and picking you up. The two of you are laughing as he spins you around for the second time that day. “Although, you missed a perfectly good opportunity for that keychain,” you state, coming up from a passionate kiss. Henry simply grunts as he carries you back to the bedroom.

#henry cavill #henry cavill one shot #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #henrycavillxreader #henrycavillxfemmereader #running mate series #running mate story

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michaels-blackhat · 4 years

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and I’m on the bleachers

so, i’ve been very vocal about my love for @aewriting‘s All Kinds of Time. Since it’s my birthday, I wrote a self-indulgent remix for a ‘verse I love because I can. Enjoy.

He’s sitting in the stands in the Roswell section, nestled between Maria and Liz, dressed all in black. Michael wonders if he’s high or drunk, or something, because he’s never seen him at a game before, it’s so not his scene, and not only that… it looks like he’s having fun. He’s smiling, pointing things out on the field, and oh holy shit…

He’s looking right at him. He’s grinning.

In the sea of red and white, the three of them stuck out. Maria constantly in as many colors as she could be, Alex in his usual black, and Liz looking the most like she should be at a high school football game though still lacking in school spirit. The three of them looked out towards the field with varying levels of incomprehension on their faces.

“Ok, I have no idea what’s going on,” Maria whispered into Alex’s ear as she wormed her way into his personal space. It was cold at night, but that still hadn’t stopped Maria from choosing a flowing skirt and a tie-dyed sleeveless shirt. Alex wrapped his arms around her, eyes still fixated on the field.

“We’re on third down and the likelihood of them getting a first down is bad,” Liz replied from the other side of Alex.

“Maybe when Kyle was starting the likelihood was bad,” Alex replied as he, and Maria by virtue of his hug, knocked into Liz’s shoulder. “But with Guerin playing, I say we have a very good chance.” His smirk was audible, but he kept his face neutral as he gazed at the field. Maria giggled into his shoulder.

Liz smacked him in the shoulder, but didn’t say anything to refute him.

“So,” Maria said as they gazed out onto the field, not particularly paying attention, “when are you and Guerin gonna happen?”

“Maria,” Alex gasped. “Don’t say that so loud!” He looked around at the people in the bleachers, but almost all of his usual tormentors were on the field.

“Please, everyone can see Guerin’s massive crush on you. The only time he’s stood up to those assholes wasn’t when they made fun of him, but when they went for you.”

They both kept who the them was, but the unspoken ‘Valenti’ was still heard. Liz gazed on ahead, either ignoring the conversation or genuinely invested in the game. Really, it was probably the latter. She knew Kyle could be a bully, but whatever he showed her and what he did to Alex by himself were two wildly different things.

“I see him in the halls, sometime, and it always seems like he’s making his way towards me and then Isobel or Max Evans is always there intercepting him.” Maria had made a derisive snort at Isobel’s name, but she kept quiet as Alex continued. “It’s not like I can just walk up to him now. There’s always someone around him. They finally laid off me, I’m not about to remind them how much they love making me their punching bag.”

“As if Guerin would ever let that happen,” Liz said, finally turning away from the field. “And you guys just missed Guerin make an amazing throw.”

“Wait, really?” Maria said, facing the field again. “Ugh, how can you tell who is who? Why don’t they have names on their jerseys?”

“Because our school can’t afford new uniforms every year.”

“I can’t tell him apart without the mop of curls,” Maria said as she looked at the mass of high school boys on the field.

“He’s right there,” Alex said. He pointed towards the field, wide smile on his face. “Kinda walking towards us right now.”

“Oh,” Maria said, “you mean basically just staring at you?”

“He is not!” Alex blushed.

“He so is,” Liz giggled, as Michael took off his helmet, eyes glued to them. “So, Alex. How could you tell it was him?”

“It’s the ass,” Maria answered before Alex could. “It’s totally the ass.”

Alex laughed at that, eyes still on Michael until the coach seemed to call for Michael’s attention. He smiled, turning towards Liz to actually answer her question when he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye and stilled. The smile fell from his face.

Jesse Manes gestured sharp for his son to make his way from the bleachers to where he stood. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, stood, and walked away.

Alex still isn’t back in his seat. Michael’s brow furrows when he finally spots him. He’s not far from the bench, actually. He’s arguing with a cold-eyed older man. A teacher? No, Michael doesn’t recognize him. Michael backs up toward the stands, close as he dares.

Bits and pieces, he catches…

“…finally acting like a fucking man… should have known better…” The guy’s right in Alex’s personal space. “… no son of mine…” Shit, it’s his dad. This asshole is his fucking dad. “…drooling like a goddamn dog… you perverted piece of shit… embarrassing me…”

#malex fic #rnm fic #michael guerin #alex manes #malex #my fic #otp: did it get old for you #Happy Birthday To Me

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doing-all-write · 5 years

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i’m open

The one in which reader goes to Ben’s soccer game. Fluff and romance ABOUNDS.

Warning: mentions of sex and swearing. And major fluff. Like, so much fluff this thing is made of cotton candy and unicorn wishes.

It’s been so beautiful here and I was watching soccer on tv and really wishing for a soccer playing boyfriend and this is what happened. Hope you enjoy!

Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

"I'M OPEN!"

Ben's eyes briefly flicked away from the ball as he heard his teammate, Tim, yell. He brought his foot back and kicked the ball as hard as he could toward him.

Tim kept running, keeping the ball caged within his feet the whole time. Keeping an eye on him, Ben, the rest of the players on the field and the whole audience, watched, with bated breath as Tim kicked it toward the goal.

The goalie's thighs tensed and uncoiled as they pushed themselves toward the right, hands splayed trying to prevent the ball from getting into the net.

Time seemed to slow down as the ball sailed over the goalies hands, he could feel the ball brush past his fingertips as it slipped over them and landed against the netting of the goal as he collapsed on the ground, head hung, as cheers erupted.

"YEAH!" Ben threw his arms into the air as he raced over to join the giant dog pile that was getting dangerously close to crushing Tim beneath their excitement.

The bleachers shook under her feet as she jumped up and down, clapping and yelling. She laughed as she watched Ben fling his body on top of the dog pile. She tilted her head up and was greeted by October sunshine that seemed especially brilliant against the cloudless blue sky and the celebration happening around her.

The sun had done nothing to warm her though, the wind buffeting around her and the other spectators doing everything it could to whisk away any bit of warmth the sun might offer. But after moving around she felt herself warming up and judging by the players on the field un-sticking jerseys from bodies, they had worked up a sweat despite the cooler temperature.

She blew on her fingertips, exposed to the chill in the air because of her finger-less gloves, which she knew Ben would give her endless shit for when he saw them. ("Wouldn't it make more sense to buy gloves that actually covered your whole hand, love?" "It's not about staying warm, it's about the aesthetic" "Well quit trying to warm up your aesthetically pleasing fingers on my sides")

Biting back a smile, she accepted praise from the other significant others and family members that lined the side of the pitch every weekend to watch the team play. As she hugged Tim's boyfriend, she saw out of the corner of her eye Ben's team finally disentangling themselves from each other to shake hands with the defeated team.

She loved the community the sidelines had built. When she first showed up, she was worried it would be difficult to get to know the others, but everyone was incredibly welcoming and the atmosphere was always cheerful, even when the team was losing. A couple times, she had brought pom-poms to pass out to willing individuals and they shook them and came up with silly cheers to keep spirits high.

Her eyes tracked Ben as he made his way down the line of players. Even from a distance, she could tell that Ben was feeling immensely proud of himself. He was doing his best to be gracious but from the swagger of his step she could tell he was in the same mood as when they emerged from a bar bathroom after hooking up; cocky and failing to hide it.

As Tim's boyfriend (Kyle she remembered a second too late was his name) talked ad nauseum about how Tim had turned leg day into leg week just in case this exact situation were to happen, she just nodded and made noises of agreement in all the right places but was mainly focused on looking at Ben.

As Kyle gave her one final hug and bounded down the bleachers to go congratulate his boyfriend, she saw Ben, talking to another player who was wildly gesticulating as they recounted a particularly epic shot they had. She saw his blue eyes darting around every now and again. He was nodding and to any other individual it would seem he was listening intently. But she knew better. She knew he was looking for her.

She raised her hand and waved to grab his attention. His eyes locked onto the movement and a smile broke across his face, like the sun appearing from behind clouds.

Without any explanation to the teammate he was talking to, he slapped them on the shoulder and jogged over to where she was, leaving them dumbfounded that someone could leave in the middle of such a great story.

Her smile grew bigger as she carefully stepped down from her spot on the bleachers to meet him. She landed on the last metallic step before the ground and looked up to find herself eye level with Ben's gaze.

"Hello, beautiful." He smiled even wider as her pink cheeks grew even pinker at the compliment.

"Hi, yourself." She muttered back as she found herself smiling wider at the flushed boy before her.

"So? What did you think?" He asked as he held out his hands, palms up to her. She glanced down and laid her own hands on top of his as she giggled,

"It was the best soccer game I've ever been to."

Ben rolled his eyes, "It's football. Honestly. You'd think you'd have learned that by now."

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, "Hey! I am trying my best here! You're lucky I even showed up at all!"

Ben chuckled as he cupped her cheek with his palm, "You're right. I'm a lucky bastard to have my beautiful girlfriend come support me on the football pitch." He placed extra emphasis on the last two words, his eyes dancing with mirth as she bit a laugh back.

"I'll forgive you this once for being a dick-sorry a prick- because you told me I'm beautiful."

"Oh so you can't remember the correct term for football but the correct term for dick you've got that one down cold, huh?" He reached a hand down to tickle her side as she laughed and tried to squirm away from him.

"I have way more reason to use prick than I do football! Stop tickling me!" She whined as she tried to get away from Ben's fingers.

Ben just chuckled and grabbed onto her waist firmly, "That's no way to speak to someone who just scored a game winning goal."

She widened her eyes innocently, "Well, technically you didn't score the game winning goal, Tim did."

Ben arched an eyebrow at her, "I'm going to start tickling you again if you don't take that back right this second."

She pouted, "Why are you so mean?"

Ben reached a finger up and tapped her bottom lip, "You know when you do that I just want to kiss you more, is that why you do it?"

Her face flushed crimson as she pulled her chin down and gazed at her feet, encased in the combat boots she had been wearing for the past three winters. Ben always made fun of her when she wore them because he could hear her coming from a mile away. They were heavy and made a satisfying stomping noise with each step. She had primly replied that she wore them so people would know not to mess with her because she was so tough.

(At which point Ben had looked her up and down and pointed out that a woman wearing a shirt with Smokey the Bear on it probably wouldn't intimidate anyone but forest fires. She had walked away with her middle finger held high.)

"Maybe" she muttered as she peeked up at Ben through her eyelashes. His eyes sparkled as he gently tipped her chin up and laid a gentle kiss on her lips.

As he pulled away, they were both beaming at each other, enjoying the late autumn sun and each other's presence when a piercing voice cut through the moment,

"OI! Get a room you two lovesick idiots!" Tim cracked as he gave Ben's shoulder a shove as he jogged past, holding Kyle's hand.

She clapped her hands over her face as her shoulders shook with laughter and Ben cheerfully flipped Tim off and yelled, "Fuck you too, you insufferable bugger!"

Tim laughed and waved at both of them as he and Kyle jogged to their car.

She peeked at Ben through her fingers, "Why are your friends so embarrassing?"

Ben laughed and threaded his arms around her waist, "Not sure, love. But at least they always keep us on our toes, right?" He kissed the tip of her nose as she put her hands on his chest,

"Ugh, keep your distance Jonesy. You're a sweaty boy." She wrinkled her nose at him as he smirked at her.

"You really shouldn't have said anything" he said as he pulled her flush against his body as she shrieked with laughter, "BEN! Put me DOWN!"

He laughed as he lifted her up and spun her around as she flung her head back and laughed. He gently set her back down on the ground as he squeezed his arms tighter around her waist, "Alright, I put you down. But I'm still going to get as much sweat as possible on you."

She squirmed against him as she tried her best to disentangle herself from his embrace, "This sucks Ben, how dare you be so strong and muscular?" She wheezed as she pushed against the brick wall that was his chest.

She finally huffed out a breath and went limp as Ben did everything possible to rub as much of his sweat off on her, "Usually your muscles are a huge turn on but right now I kind of hate them?"

Ben stilled and stared down at her incredulously, "You can't possibly mean that?"

She rolled her eyes, "Of course not. I just wanted to distract you." She pushed away from Ben and took a few steps away from him, shaking herself off in a futile attempt to try to rid herself of the smell of sweaty man.

"How can you be so hot but smell so terrible?"

Ben pointed a menacing finger at her, "Think very carefully before insulting me again. I'll rub your face in my armpit."

She gasped, "You wouldn't."

Ben shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't but do you really want to take that chance?"

She crossed her arms and mumbled, "I guess not." She looked up into Ben's eyes and couldn't help the smile taking over her face. She looked around and noticed the whole team had cleared out. It was only her, Ben and a few families taking their kids to the playground for one final play session outside before snow and ice covered everything.

Ben studied her. Her silhouette illuminated by the autumn sun shining down, the leaves falling around her, he was struck with the same realization he had whenever he got a chance to look at her; he was incredibly in love with her.

Her eyes slid over to meet Ben's and saw him studying her, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was intense and caused heat to build in her core as she glanced down and saw the soccer ball next to her boot. She rested her foot on it and glanced at Ben, "Teach me how to play?"

He shook himself from his thoughts, "What? Teach you how to play football?"

She nodded as she looked at him shyly. His face lit up, "Alrigh', yeah. Of course, love." He walked closer to her as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face,

"Well, I figure who better to learn soccer from than the professional who just scored." She teased and he stopped in front of her, holding up one finger,

"FIRST LESSON. It's called football. NOT soccer."

She giggled as she held up three fingers, "Yes, sir."

Ben's eyes flashed as he bent down to whisper in her ear, "Save that for later." He pulled back to see her eyes wide with shock as he winked at her and kicked the ball out from underneath her boot.

He considered himself to be a good boyfriend for only laughing a little bit when she stumbled and had to catch herself before falling into the grass.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You prick."

"SECOND RULE. Never trust your opponent. Especially when they're as talented as I am." He called over his shoulder as he easily dribbled the ball down the pitch toward the goal as she gawked at him in disbelief.

"HEY!" She yelled in indignation as she took off after him, cursing her clunky boots and shedding the scarf that kept blowing into her face.

Ben laughed as he quickly kicked the ball into the net and turned to face her, cheering all the while as she ran straight into him. Her hair getting tangled and flying into Ben's face, her beanie having flown off in her mad dash to get him, as he made an "OOF" sound and stumbled back a few steps.

"Not fair!" She wailed as she tried to get around Ben and get the ball out of the net as Ben chuckled and grabbed her hand,

"All's fair in love and football, love." And spun her around so he could plant a loud kiss on her forehead as she yanked her arm away from him.

She scurried around him, grabbed the ball with her hands and, carrying it like a football player carrying a ball to the end zone, sprinted towards the goal on the other side of the field.

It took Ben's brain a good three seconds to comprehend what she had done and then for mock outrage to kick in as he heard her giggles getting quieter as she got farther away from him.

His months of practice and training kicked in and he took off like a shot after her.

She was so far ahead, and rather pleased with herself for what she had accomplished. She had tricked Ben, gotten a kiss and now she would score against him as well.

That was when she realized Ben had been unusually quiet.

She risked a glance behind her and saw all five feet ten inches of pure muscle. competitive, high on adrenaline, boyfriend coming straight at her like a freight train.

If Ben hadn't been so focused on getting the ball from her he would have been on the ground, dying with laughter over how quickly her face dropped when she saw him closing in behind her.

A quick calculation and she put on a burst of fresh speed to get to the goal before her boyfriend tackled her. The one other time he had tackled her was when they had been playing touch football with some of their friends one time and they both had gotten a bit too competitive.

After having him apply ice pouches all over her body and give her full body massages (which always led to sex) for a full month, she had just now started to forgive him. She hated to see that streak ruined but, as Ben had just put it, all's fair in love and football.

"You're mine." The growl that came from Ben's mouth had her stomach clenching in a delightful way and she finally understood the meaning of being scared and horny.

She could hear his breath coming out in sharp pants as he put on a final burst of speed to clear the gap between them. She gripped the ball tighter and urged her boot clad feet to move even faster.

The jangling of the metal bits got more frantic as she pushed her body even harder, gasping as she tried to fill her lungs with more air so she could get to the net before Ben could grab her.

She felt the ghost of Ben's fingertips graze her sides as she launched herself into the net headfirst, deciding on a whim that getting the ball into the net was way more important than her physical well-being.

Ben's eyes widened as he felt, rather than saw, her body move farther away from him as she launched herself, and the ball, into the net. Securing a goal for herself as Ben tried to stop before he landed on her.

The ball made impact with her chest and her first thought was, sorry boobs, knowing that they would be sore tomorrow as she hit the ground, bits of grass flying up as she laid there. Catching her breath, she rolled over onto her back to gloat at Ben.

Only to be greeted by Ben's massive form getting ready to land on her since he tried to stop too quickly, had tripped over his own feet and was trying to catch himself.

She squeaked, rolling onto her side, rounding her body around the ball in her arms to try to protect herself and her prize. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for Ben's form to fall on top of her.

When a couple seconds had passed and she hadn't been crushed by her boyfriend's muscles, she cracked one eye open carefully.

Ben laughed as he saw her eye opening up, roving around, trying to figure out where he had gone.

He shifted his hands so they would be further apart on either side of her body and lowered down into a push up to place a kiss on her cheek before pushing himself back up as she smiled and opened her eye wider.

Ben had managed to catch himself before he squashed her by placing his hands on either side of her body, his own body hovering atop hers as she rolled onto her back, smiling,

"That's a goal, I believe Mr. Jones." Ben couldn't help the smile that spread across his face whenever she called him by his "old" last name as he had begun to think of it.

She smiled back and playfully wagged the ball in his face. He scoffed and hit the ball out of her hands as he pushed himself up to standing.

"Hey! That's the game winning ball!" She protested as she scrambled up to grab it as Ben brushed his palms off on his shorts. As she bent down to pick it up, Ben took the opportunity to yell, "Nice ass" to which she promptly wiggled her butt at him as she performed an exaggerated bend and snap move.

"You do realize that even though you were joking around, that was still incredibly sexy, right?" Ben asked as he moved to stand in front of her, tucking her hair behind her ear. She blushed and shuffled her feet back and forth, avoiding Ben's gaze as she became overwhelmed by his direct stare.

Bending down, Ben met her gaze, "Hey, don't be embarrassed, it's a good thing. I meant every word."

A small smile ghosted across her lips as she nodded and shuffled closer to him so she could wrap her arms around his waist. Ben smiled, "Thought that I was too sweaty to be this close to you?"

"Shut up" came the muffled reply as she snuggled deeper into his arms as a particularly chilly breeze cut through their clothes.

The crisp blue sky unfurled before them as the leaves rattled from the autumn wind dancing around them. Ben shivered as her eyes tracked the movement of the leaves as they rained down around them. Covering them in yellow and red confetti as the smell of dirt and decay filled their nostrils as they both took a deep breath in.

"Hey"

Ben smiled, "Hello"

"Want to go home? You smell."

"Oh I smell huh? I think you smell worse than me at this point."

She reeled her head back in shock, "Me? That's only because you rubbed your boy stink on me!"

Ben's nose wrinkled, "Can you please never call it boy stink ever again? That's so distressing."

She sighed, "You have so many rules about what words I can and can't use it's really harshing my groove."

Ben chuckled, "I'm sorry my love. You're dating a picky man, what can I tell you? Words mean things."

"I know but first soccer and now boy stink, I mean, you've left me with nothing. I'm a shell of a woman." She sighed as she pretended to swoon into his arms.

Ben quickly caught her and pulled her closer to his frame, "You have to stop pretending to faint. I've already dropped you, like, three times in the past month alone."

"I know. And each time wounded me more."

"Love, I can't always catch you when you decide to fall-"

She gasped, "Each of those are trust falls and each one you miss my trust in you lessens-" Her sentence was cut off as Ben grasped her shoulders, his face the most serious it had ever looked;

"Please, never joke about that. I know you were just joking but even the thought of you not trusting me-I don't even want to think about it." She looked into his eyes and saw they were shining with tears. She cupped his face with both of her hands and nodded emphatically, "Of course sweetheart. I trust you with my life, Benjamin. You know that. And there's nothing you can do to break that trust."

Ben nodded and pulled her back into his arms for a hug. "Well, that's enough emotional shit for one day." he said brusquely, clearing his throat. She nodded as she tried to say something back but her voice was muffled by Ben's jersey.

"What was that, love?"

She pulled her face away, "Can we go home? I can't feel my fingertips."

"If you bought gloves that ACTUALLY covered your whole hand this wouldn't be an issue!"

"And how many times do I need to remind you Benjamin that I have an aesthetic to keep up!"

Ben scoffed, "It'll be hard to keep up your aesthetic when you have no fingers left."

"And harder to give hand jobs"

"WHAT."

She blinked up at him innocently, "Nothing! Let's go home. I'll make you hot chocolate." She beamed at him and fluttered her eyelashes in what she hoped was a becoming manner.

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, "Alright. You've distracted me enough with the promise of hot chocolate. Let's go home."

She laughed and threaded her fingers through his, pulling him toward her car so they could go home together when Ben yelped pulling her to a stop,

"Jesus, love! Your fingertips really are freezing!"

She rolled her eyes, "Did you think I was lying?"

"Well, you are prone to great exaggeration-"

"Fuck you and the hot chocolate I was going to make you then."

"Just kidding baby. I love you so much, have I told you how pretty you are?"

She laughed as she pressed her fingers onto Ben's cheeks as he hissed and screwed up his face, "You're lucky you're so cute."

"And I'm lucky you love me so much." He replied softly.

She gently kissed him and they found themselves back in the same position they had been in when the game had ended. Standing on an empty pitch, not even noticing they were alone.

Because how could they be alone when they had the whole world right in front of them?

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy one shots #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy imagine #ben jones fluff #ben jones oneshot #ben jones fanfic #soccer #soccer!ben hardy #soft!ben hardy #i just want soft athletic ben to be my bf is that too much to ask #ben hardy x reader #ben jones x reader #im open

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sweetestgrethan · 4 years

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Serendipity

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Hello lovelies 💛 I’m so glad to be back and sharing this with y’all. This is something I started a long time ago, before the first van video came out, but after they announced they’d be doing the whole van thing. I finally finished it thanks to this lovely song, give it a listen if you can! Anyway, hope you enjoy, don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts! Don’t forget to read the description before reading 💝💗💖💘

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Related; Subby Ethan and Dom Gray, drug use, choking, rough sex, semi-public sex, sex in the van

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The universe has moved for us

Without missing a single thing

Our happiness was meant to be

Cuz you love me, and I love you

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Missouri was a little blurry for Grayson.

Not because it wasn’t worth remembering, it was far from. It had mostly been the weed; that always made for holes in his memories. He and Ethan didn’t do it often, because his lungs were pretty finicky, but Kyle had gotten them something he knew would be gentle enough on Grayson’s asthma and that would keep them entertained during the long drive to Jersey. Grayson was thankful, because driving for hours on end as a passenger was a fate he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

They had stopped for the night at an empty rest stop on the side of a moderately empty highway. It had initially given Grayson the creeps, being stopped in a parking lot in almost pitch-black darkness, save for a couple of lamp posts scattered around the stop, but seeing Ethan nearly dozing at the wheel spooked him even more.

Ethan had sensed how on edge Grayson had been the last couple hours of the drive and urged him to smoke a bit when they stopped, just to get his mind off of the day behind them. Grayson was glad he listened, because he was having a wonderful time, cuddled close to Ethan in the back of their newly furnished van, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by pillows that covered almost every inch of their bed.

They were resting, not asleep, but both exhausted from running around various states and driving. Grayson’s head was laid on top of his brother’s chest, Ethan’s hand carding through the now grown out locks on top of his twin’s head. Grayson had put on some random playlist in the background, and he would occasionally hum along to the songs that played.

“Sorry for making you drive all day, E,” Grayson mumbled softly, cuddling his face up under Ethan’s scraggly chin, pressing an apologetic kiss there.

“S’kay,” Ethan responded with equal softness. This kiss made goosebumps rise on his skin, the older twin always a sucker for the simplest affection Grayson offered. “I like driving. Definitely more fun than sitting next to me all day.” He smirked a little and playfully tugged at Grayson’s hair.

Grayson whined, which quickly turned into a giggle, intensely focused on how amazing it felt to have Ethan combing through his hair like he was. “It is boring, you jerk.” Grayson huffed, going to lift his head up so he could look at Ethan better, taking the moment to kiss him sweetly.

Ethan smiled into the kiss and let his head fall back against the mountain of pillows when they pulled away. “I know what would make it more fun.” He said suddenly, lifting his head once more to peek at Grayson.

Grayson could recognize the look on Ethan’s face, no matter how high he was. He could tell when Ethan was concocting some sort of plan to get them in trouble, or make for good filming material, or simply to annoy Grayson. “Oh yeah? And what’s that, angel?” Grayson asked easily, leaning down to kiss Ethan’s jaw, leading kisses up to his cheek, and then stopping at his temple.

“You could put yourself to use for once, eh? Gimme the first orgasm in the van.” Ethan laughed at how ridiculous it sounded, but he wasn’t kidding by any means.

He’d been fantasizing about being fucked in the back for too long now. They’d been way too busy to even think about that for the last few days, but now seemed like as good a time as any, considering the had the whole night ahead of them.

“The first? How do you know I haven’t already jacked off in here?” Grayson teased, already moving so he was slotted between Ethan’s legs, kissing him again before he could respond.

“Shut up.” Ethan laughed between kisses, arms snaking around Grayson’s neck to pull him flush against him.

“Take off your clothes,” Grayson instructed, a sense of firmness in his tone. He pulled away and watched Ethan sit up and do as he said, never breaking eye contact with him. “What do you want, huh?” He purred, eyes raking over Ethan’s body as more of him slowly came into view.

There was something about the soft, calculated way Grayson would instruct him. It didn’t matter how he said it, Ethan was so far gone for his brother that he’d do absolutely anything he asked. Even the simple question was enough to make him shiver all over in anticipation. Usually, he’d slap Grayson upside the head for telling him what to do in their everyday lives, but it was different when Grayson was on top of him, intent on making him feel good.

“You,” Ethan breathed, leaning in to close the gap between them once more, feeling Grayson push him onto his back again. “All of you.”

Grayson didn’t have to be told twice as he began to pull his own clothes off, feeling like everything was in slow motion, their bodies warm against each other and offering some friction. He wondered how being high would make this feel, only ever having sex when he was impaired once or twice, and it was only ever off a few shots of tequila. Still, he was excited to experience it with his Ethan. “That’s a tall order,” Grayson said playfully and shoved his hand down the front of Ethan’s shorts, rubbing the curve of his dick over his boxers, feeling it easily fatten up against his palm.

Ethan couldn’t help but stare adoringly up at Grayson, not even fazed by the corny comment. Truthfully, he was a little preoccupied with the fact that Grayson was stroking him to hardness, so you really couldn’t blame him.

Grayson could tell he was already struggling to form coherent sentences, probably a combination of the weed and the pleasure making his brain go haywire. “My boy’s already so obedient, and I barely had to touch you.” He observed aloud. “Wonder what you’ll be like once I’m inside of you,” said with the dumbest grin on his face.

“Please-“ Ethan finally got out, eyes fluttering shut and hips rolling up into Grayson’s hand. “No teasing, I need you,” he whined.

On a normal day, that would’ve been a sure-fire way to get Grayson to go extra slow and ramp up the teasing. Grayson understood, though. He knew Ethan was tired after a long day of driving and just wanted to get fucked senseless. Grayson was a sucker for any of Ethan’s begging and now was no exception. Grayson moved to kiss Ethan again without another word, this time working to get Ethan’s shorts off as fast as he could. It was a whirlwind of clothes being hastily discarded and limbs tangling as they struggled to get fully undressed, both fully hard by the end of it.

Ethan was panting, trying to concentrate on one thing at a time, but his mind was so clouded with need that it was hard to think at all. “Duffel-“ he finally got out at some point, in between kisses. “Front pocket. I brought lube.” He informed Grayson.

Grayson was so thankful Ethan thought ahead with these things, quickly scrambling off of him to go find it. It wasn’t long then, before three of Grayson’s fingers occupied Ethan’s entrance. He wasn’t being ginger, by any means, thrusting them deep and curling them upwards with every backstroke of his hand. He knew Ethan could handle it.

Ethan was somehow more of a mess than before, leaking a pitiful puddle of precome onto his belly, legs spread wide in either direction, ass pushing down against Grayson’s hand for more. It must’ve been the weed, he decided, making him so wildly sensitive. He felt like he could come in a few moments if he didn’t do anything to stop Grayson, but he seemed to pick up on how hard Ethan was struggling, and stopped his movements before Ethan could take action. It only made the older twin whine, though, still breathing heavily and flushed all over.

“Can’t wait,” Ethan urged softly. “I’m going fuckin’ crazy, Gray.” He said with a frustrated huff, scooting down the bed even more to get closer to Grayson’s cock.

Grayson was eating it all up, honestly. His brother’s eagerness was only spurring him on more. Watching Ethan writhe and beg for him was an amazing thing, something that will be seared permanently into his brain so he’d never forget it. “You’re lucky I’m high.” He joked as he opened the bottle of lube once more, finally prepping himself to push into Ethan.

“Or what?” Ethan quipped back playfully. “You’d punish me? Wow, I’m so scared, Gray.” Ethan feigned fear, sounding completely sarcastic as he watched Grayson stroke himself.

Grayson let out a chuckle, a knowing one, because he knew what Ethan was doing. The man was a masochist, for fuck’s sake. Most of their relationship was Ethan fucking with Grayson, making him angry and teasing him until Grayson had no choice but to blow up, or teach him a lesson on respect. Ethan lived for it. “Next time I have you like this, I won’t be so nice. You’re only making it worse for yourself.” Grayson warned, both serious and playful as he spread Ethan’s thighs apart a little more, his free hand guiding himself against his entrance and rubbing it in circles.

Ethan’s eyes slammed shut as he felt the head against him, moaning shakily at the lame stimulation. He really wasn’t going to last long at all. “Shut up and fuck me.” He said, as sternly as he could, eyes fluttering open again to look up at Grayson. Grayson had him all figured out, Ethan knew that. He was shameless about it, too. He wanted to see the way Grayson shifted from playful to serious in a split-second, he wanted to feel the fear course through him as he wondered what Grayson would do to punish him. He wanted to push and push until Grayson could only respond forcefully.

Grayson didn’t hesitate to fit himself snuggly inside of his brother, not even giving him a moment to adjust before he started thrusting. One of Grayson’s hands also wrapped around Ethan’s throat and squeezed, pressing down into his windpipe preventing Ethan from saying much else. “You’re so much prettier when you’re quiet.” Grayson panted.

Ethan’s hands immediately went to wrap around Grayson’s wrists, helpless as he was ambushed by all the different sensations. The harsh jabbing of Grayson’s cock, along with the annoyed tone of his voice and the lack of air being sent to his lungs were all a dangerous mix, something that meant his impending orgasm would be expedited. “Easy, easy,” Ethan said in a strained whine, dropping his hands from Grayson’s wrist after deciding to not fight against the much bigger, much stronger man on top of him. Grayson had a sick smirk on his face, the sadistic bastard, watching Ethan wriggle and struggle against him with a pleased look on his face. He was sometimes amazed how easy this was with him, how Ethan yielded and trusted him for just about anything. Seeing the complete surrender on Ethan’s face when he was balls deep inside of him, his jaw dropped and countless moans falling from the parted lips, eyebrows knit in pleasure was enough incentive to keep going, to never stop making Ethan feel amazing.

Ethan never claimed to a stallion when it came to this stuff. His resolve was shit, and he liked to indulge a little too much to be depriving himself of the pleasure Grayson so willingly gave him. So what, he came fast? Grayson took him apart in such little time, with such little effort, Ethan was helpless to it, and he didn’t want to be better about it.

The sound of their skin slapping together was muted in the small interior of the van, Ethan’s moans having turned into yelps and cries, already severely close to coming. Ethan’s head was tilted back, still struggling to breathe with Grayson’s hand clasped around his throat, but not wanting it to stop. Soon, the older of the two was tightening his thighs around Grayson’s waist, a warning that he would be coming soon. “Don’t stop, please,” Ethan pleaded.

“That’s all it took?” Grayson growled, sounding a bit scary, but he knew Ethan would know he was just teasing, continuing to break him down as he thrust deeply into him. “Haven’t even touched you and you’re already fucking coming?”

Ethan’s whole body flushed in embarrassment. It made him feel weak and powerful all at once, both shaming him and fueling his stubbornness, his need to defy everything Grayson told him to do. He couldn’t do much other than let out a few strained moans as it washed over him, completely defenseless.

Grayson watched as Ethan was suddenly tensing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he shot come all up his chest, going as far as to land on his chin. Ethan was speechless, as he usually was, nothing but a mess of breathless whines at this point. Grayson continued to fuck into him through his whole orgasm, until he was coming himself. Usually, he liked to fill Ethan to the brim, as much as Ethan didn’t prefer it. He loved seeing it trickle out and make a mess between his legs, like proof that he’d been well-fucked and well-loved. Grayson decided, without the presence of a shower, that would be cruel to Ethan, so he managed to pull out just before. Grayson painted Ethan’s chest with a soft groan, moving his hand from Ethan’s neck to the bed beside his head, needing something to keep him upright so he wouldn’t collapse on top of him.

Neither said anything until the rough breathing died down, and Grayson started to nudge at Ethan’s cheek with his nose, pressing kisses there until he found his lips.

“Congrats. First orgasm in the van. We’ll have to find a cake to celebrate tomorrow.” Grayson teased, kissing him deeper, and pulling away completely so they could start cleaning up.

“Mm, cake. That sounds so good right now,” Ethan said as he finally relaxed his body, waiting for Grayson to come back and clean him up, like he always did. “We don’t have anything in the pantry?” He smirked and lifted his head just slightly to watch him.

“Maybe.” Grayson chuckled as he crawled back into bed with some tissues in hand, gentle as he wiped all of their recent offenses away. “You’ll have to go and check for yourself.” He hummed, teasing him and the fact that he probably could not do that at the moment. Ethan was sensitive as it was, he doubted he had the strength to stand right now.

“Fuck off.” Ethan huffed, contradicting himself when he pulled Grayson down again for another slow kiss.

Grayson was content with the fact that Missouri wasn’t so bad after all. He was sure many more states would be just as memorable, in the same ways. Grayson was already looking forward to the next time they stopped for the night.

#wombmates #grethan #grethan drabble

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goldenhemmings · 5 years

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For The Win | Basketball!Shawn

Me? Posting two pieces in one night?? Shawnblr’s resident sports whore is back with 1.6k words of shitty impulse writing because she loses her fucking mind when Shawn does anything remotely close to sporty. Enjoy.

Raptors have the firepower to reach NBA Finals. Raptors build momentum one defining moment at a time. Raptors become Eastern Conference Champions, will play in first-ever NBA Finals. And, most recently, Warriors defeat Raptors in Game 5 of the NBA Finals. They were all articles she was proud of publishing, but none of them carried the headline Y/N so desperately wished to write: Toronto Raptors become NBA champions.

She was fresh out of college and just finishing her second year as a sports reporter for the Toronto Star, exclusively covering the Raptors. Going to basketball games and interviewing some of the greatest players in the NBA was a part of her official job description; every aspiring sports journalist’s dream. Additionally, she felt luckier than could be explained for the opportunity to cover a championship roster, especially one that was up 3-2 on Golden State, of all teams. It was a feat not many people had expected the Raptors to be able to accomplish, and Y/N was right there alongside it all, reporting on arguably the biggest Cinderella story of the 2018-19 season.

Today was her last chance to get commentary from the players before Game 6, as they traveled to Oakland first thing the next morning. Her editor expected an article to be on his desk by eight p.m. that night to be blasted to the entire city of Toronto the next morning, and time was of the essence.

Y/N rounded the corner towards the front entrance of the OVO Athletic Centre, the Raptors’ primary training facility. She flashed her press badge to the security guard standing outside the doors of the building; team protocol anytime there were members of the squad using the gym. The guard, whom she recognized from her many ventures to this particular practice facility, gave a curt nod before scanning the doors open for her.

She stepped inside, the cool air conditioning of the building overwhelming her and causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She locked eyes with the receptionist, Jim, who sat in his usual spot at the front desk just on the other side of the doors. Dutifully wearing a red We The North t-shirt, he smiled at her and brushed a hand back over his graying hair as he stood to greet her.

“How’re you doing today, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I’m covering a first-time Eastern Conference champion,” she grinned, not missing a beat, and Jim let out a hearty laugh. “So I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“I’d say so, too,” he answered. “Who’re you here for today?”

She smiled. She never knew the players’ individual schedules; all she could do was hope that she could catch them at the right moment. Jim, however, had always been on her side, doing all he could to help her track down the athletes she needed when she needed them. “Ideally Leonard. I’m looking to get a statement for the feature I’m writing.”

“Believe he’s still in the main gym practicing. You might need to wait until he’s done.”

She checked the delicate rose-gold watch that adorned her wrist. “I’ve got time,” she replied, already fishing inside her purse for the tape recorder she’d brought to document the interview. “Just glad he’s actually here. Thanks, Jim.”

She stepped past the desk and followed the path to Gymnasium One; a trail that she knew like the back of her hand. She could hear the echo of a basketball bouncing on the lacquered wooden court before she could see the entrance to the gym, which she took as a good sign; at least someone was in there.

She stepped through the entryway and was met with an empty gymnasium save for the tall, familiar man shooting layups on the far-left hoop, his curly brown hair pushed off of his face with a thin black headband. She took note of the Mendes 98 stitched onto the back of his black practice jersey; he wasn’t who she was looking for, but hopefully he could get her one step closer to finding the player she needed. As soon as he spotted Y/N he began making his way over to her, the basketball now tucked between his arm and the side of his torso.

“Here to interview me?” he asked, flashing his trademark, brilliant smile. His deep voice had a slight echo in the nearly-vacant gymnasium. Shawn Mendes was a first-year player for the Toronto Raptors after the team acquired him from the Phoenix Suns, where he’d been drafted and previously spent two seasons. He wasn’t quite ready to be a main-rotation player, but he did see a few minutes of playing time most games. He was young and he was talented, and the Raptors were doing a great job at developing his skills. In a few years, he’d undeniably be of starting-five calibre.

“I’m looking for Leonard, actually,” Y/N answered matter-of-factly. She ran into Shawn quite frequently due to the fact that he wasn’t a hard-to-reach, top player in the same category as Kawhi Leonard or Kyle Lowry, and she’d had plenty of time to get to know Shawn with all the time she’d spent diligently waiting around the Raptors’ clubhouse to catch one of the team’s stars for a quick statement she could write into an article. In fact, she was the one who’d written the story that broke the news of his trade from Phoenix to Toronto; she had the article, her first-ever breaking news story, in a frame sitting on her desk at work. Shawn, on the other hand, had quickly taken a liking to the young reporter and began to look forward to seeing her before and after games, but it had never surpassed his innocent--but very obvious--attempts at flirting.

“Well when do I get an interview?” he pressed, his eyes sparkling under the bright, fluorescent lights of the gym.

“Singlehandedly put up 36 points in a championship game and then we’ll talk.”

He laughed, looking down at his basketball shoes. “So never, then.”

“I wouldn’t say never,” she teased. “You’d just better get practicing.”

“Fair,” he replied with a smirk. He was slightly sweaty from what Y/N assumed to be an intense practice session, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself how endearing she found the fact that his cheeks always flushed when he played. “36 points for an interview, but how many do I have to score to get you to go to dinner with me?”

Y/N raised a brow at him, suddenly amused; he’d never been this forward before. “Equally as many,” she fired back, challenging him, and relishing in the way his lips pulled into a smile. “Plus the championship.”

His eyes widened. “You do know who we’re playing, right?”

“Are you saying you don’t believe in your team? That’d make a great headline.”

“Am I on or off the record here?” he laughed, and just as Y/N was ready to bite back with a witty remark she noticed a door on the opposite side of the gym open, and in walked Kawhi Leonard in his typical practice uniform. Y/N gasped and turned to dash towards him, already turning her tape recorder on, hoping to grab him before he left for the day.

She could feel Shawn watching her as she spoke to the Raptors’ star forward, occasionally turning away to take a few shots from behind the arc. Show off. Once satisfied with the questions she’d had Leonard answer, she said a polite thank you and good luck before turning to tuck her tape recorder back into her purse. Shawn was approaching her in an instant, the basketball bouncing off in the opposite direction, disregarded after the last shot he’d taken.

“You never answered my question, you know,” he began, still smiling, though his tone was less joking than it was before she’d gone to do her interview. “About what it’ll take for you to go to dinner with me.”

“Yes, I did,” she retorted, a sly smile crossing her mouth. “You put up 36 points in a game and the Raptors win the championship. That’s your answer.”

“That’s a lot to ask, Y/N,” he replied, laughing lightly. “I don’t exactly have a large influence over whether or not we win the championship.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, enjoying their banter more than she’d ever admit. “You’d better make the most of your three minutes of playing time, then.”

He sucked a breath of air in through his teeth, feigning offense. “Ouch.”

She giggled, but was interrupted by her phone sounding its familiar ringtone that signified a text message. She pulled it out of her bag to reveal a text from her boss: How’s the article coming?

She sighed, which Shawn picked up on right away. “Everything alright?”

“Duty calls,” she shrugged, tucking the phone away and readjusting how the strap of her purse rested on her shoulder. “I’ve gotta get back to the office and put this story together.”

Shawn nodded in understanding, his soft eyes fixated on hers. “I guess I’ll see you, then. Hopefully we can get the win in Oakland, but if we do come back to Toronto for a Game 7 I look forward to seeing you there.”

Her cheeks got hot. Why was he looking at her like that all of a sudden? “Tell your teammates I’m rooting for them,” she replied, beginning to move back towards the door.

He laughed, reaching to grab another basketball and not fully understanding what she was getting at. “Half of North America is rooting for them.”

“Then half of North America wants you to take me to dinner,” she called back with a smug grin, turning around to leave the gym before she could see his expression, but she didn’t miss the perfect swoosh sound that accompanied a basketball falling perfectly through the net.

#i literally don't even know what this is other than me acting on impulse because im crazy #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes one shots #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes aus #basketball!shawn

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mossy-fae · 5 years

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Playing Rough

Shawn Mendes Smut // word count: 5,514 // NSFW // Shawn x OC that i borrowed ( @celinetheseeliequeen ) // Shawn’s girlfriend tags along to one of the boy’s hockey games, and after Shawn get’s a lil rowdy she gets a lil worked up // general roughness // exhibition kink // possessive Shawn // mild daddy kink // gratuitous Shawn on his knees // if u like boys with busted lips this ones for u // please excuse any typos im braindead

Céline and Shawn had been dating for a few months now, but they had known each other for much longer. They’d grown up two houses apart, they’d gone to most of the same schools, just not always at the same time. Truthfully one of the only reasons they hadn’t gotten together sooner was due mostly to the fact that Céline was a little older than him. But now that Shawn was twenty it seemed to matter a whole lot less. In the few months they’d been together now, they’d almost become attached at the hip. Céline had no idea how she was going to make it when he went back on tour. But now wasn’t the time to think about it, Shawn was taking a little time off, and she had just finished exams at school. This left nothing for the two of them to do but spend time together. Of course they still hung out with their friends, most of whom were the same crowd anyway, but now the other tagged along. That was exactly what was happening today. Shawn had met some of the boys for a ‘friendly’ hockey game, and Céline had come along with a few of the other girlfriends to watch and cheer the boys on. The game was about midway through now, and so far it had gone off without a hitch, however boys will be boys and hockey will get rowdy. About the time that someone skidded and knocked someone else over and someone’s stick hit someone in the stomach, Céline just barely caught Shawn taking an elbow to the face. It was enough that she made a soft ‘oo’ sound under her breath, but that was quickly replaced by the fuss that broke out on the ice. Apparently a few of the boys felt part of that was intentional and intended to stop a goal from being scored. This led to yelling and shoving and as heated as Canadian boys got. But She did catch Shawn getting into the middle of it, despite mostly only yelling about ‘who the fuck’ had ‘punched him in the face’. Pretty much in unison with some of the boys starting to throw punches, the girls in the stands were yelling at them to break it up. And as soon as Céline saw Shawn move to join in with it, she did yell an exasperated ‘Oh come ON Shawn!’ down at the ice. A few of the girls now were muttering to themselves about the boys being childish, but soon enough one of the boys who hadn’t been involved either way stepped in and pulled everyone apart. Céline however did take note that Shawn was one of the boy’s skating a bit to the side and spitting some blood onto the ice before yelling back at someone, “Just don’t be a dick next time Kyle!” Céline couldn’t help but roll her eyes, yelling down a “Drop it Shawn!” at him, only to see her boyfriend cut the /worst/ glare at her. If looks could have killed in that moment Shawn would have effectively ended her. Céline couldn’t help but grin at him, despite the fact she could already see the busted lip from her seat. Shawn was always one of those people who maintained calm and cool, but it was rather nice to see him get worked up once and a while. Sometimes, it was a little more than just nice. Those rare moments she got to see Shawn all worked up, and usually it was about hockey, were a little thrilling. Something about the way he was so focused on whatever it was, or how his cheeks flushed red. Regardless, she loved it, and she made sure to take advantage every chance she got with angry Shawn. For the rest of the game, Céline kept her eyes locked on her boyfriend, and she could see that he wasn’t calming down anytime soon. Partially it amused her, because Shawn was the kind to get easily worked up but normally he got over it pretty fast. So apparently, an elbow to the face was really a final straw for him. But the other part of her found herself squirming slightly in her seat, readjusting herself and trying not to think too hard about Shawn’s angry voice. By the time the game ended, a few of the boys were still kind of arguing about whatever happened on the ice. Despite the fact the Céline was rolling her eyes about it, she couldn’t help but notice that Shawn was still arguing with someone as they all walked back to the locker rooms. Once the boys were all back changing and everything though, the girls were getting up and starting to disperse. Some of them began heading down to the parking lot and to the cars to wait, some headed back to the female locker rooms to start changing for some of the female sports the club offered. But Céline was getting up herself then and just walking back toward where the locker rooms were, just standing outside and leaning up against the wall. It took a little while, before Shawn was coming out, but she heard him before she saw him, yelling, ‘Yeah okay whatever fuck you too,’ at the guy walking out before him. When he saw Céline though he was kind of abruptly pausing, “Oh, hi,” he said casually looking at her. “Are you ready to go?” Shawn asked just stepping up beside her. But Céline crossed her arms, cocking a brow and tilting her head while she watched him, “Really Shawn?” she asked. But before he could really get past one ‘what’ with her Céline was grabbing the front of his jersey and tugging him off down the hall, “Come on,” she said in a stern way. Shawn didn’t really fight her on it though just laughing and walking along behind her, “Okay baby,” he said smiling. Soon enough though she had dragged him into a part of the locker rooms that seemed empty. “Shawn,” she began, like she might scold him, turning to face him now with both hands on her hips. Now was when Shawn paused, looking over to the side in one of the mirrors above the wall of sinks. The most obvious thing on his face was the busted lip, his hair falling in his face, his cheeks flushed red from everything of the day. There was some slight bruising on his face, and a few places where it was impossible to tell if it was just flecks of blood but small cuts. “I get it, it was stupid, I should have let it go, but I did win the fight,” Shawn said looking back at Céline. A moment later Céline was giggling and taking one step closer to him, “I didn’t bring you in here to yell at you, silly,” she cooed, resting one hand on his jersey and almost twisting her hips, bending one knee and doing her best to look cute. “I want you to fuck me,” she said in a quiet kind of baby voice, “You have any idea how hot you were, getting all aggressive out there? Who do you think you are, spitting blood on the ice when you know your girlfriend is in the stands,” she asked taking one step closer to him and running her hand up and down his chest, “It got me all worked up watching you act like that, and I know you’re still mad about it, I know you, you should take it out on me,” she said nodding as she looked up at him, “What do you think, hm?” she cooed. Shawn almost instantly grinned, dropping his duffle bags, but half tossing them a little to give the both of them space, “I think you’re bad,” he said resting both hands on her hips. Céline was running one hand under his jersey, letting her fingers trace up and down his abs as her other hand reached up and rested on his cheek. As Shawn leaned in closer though she brushed her finger over his lip, just kind of touching at that dried blood, “Does it hurt?” she asked quietly. “I can’t feel it,” he said quietly, “Adrenaline isn’t gone yet, and I don’t think it’s going to be anytime soon,” he said with a lusty laugh, but he was kissing her then. The two of them did just kiss for a minute, it was hungry and desperate, Céline’s hands rested on Shawn’s jaw and stomach, and Shawn’s hands rested on her hips. Eager hands pulled her hips closer as Shawn leaned down and slowly flipped their position just to push her against the wall. He pressed her gently toward the wall until her back hit it, and one of his hands let go of her hips to rest his palm flat against the wall. It was almost like he was caged over her, like keeping her down. But he was kissing her harder, pressing his hips up against her, giving low little moans into those kisses as he did. Céline ran her hands up and down Shawn’s sides, over his chest and down the front of him, before dipping both hands under his jersey and rubbing up and down his abs, “You’re so hot,” she whispered into those kisses, leaning up on her tip toes just to be able to kiss him better. However soon she was tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying to get it off of him. Shawn did break the kiss, just to pull his own shirt off, and then toss it to the side. Once his own was off though he lifted up her sundress, just tugging it up to her hips and pulling it off, dropping it more on his duffle bag. He did miss hitting that exactly right, only because he was so distracted by what he saw in front of him. Not only had Céline opted to skip on a bra today, but she’d left off her panties as well. Now she stood in front of him, holding her fingers laced together down in front of her hips, almost like being shy. But she was swaying back and forth as she looked up at him in a shy little girl way, “Why are you looking at me like that daddy?” she said in her sweetest voice, “Do you like my undies today?” But Shawn laughed softly almost shaking his head as he looked over her, “What underwear?” he asked but Céline only giggled more, “That’s the point silly daddy,” she cooed, before stepping closer and taking his hands, putting them on her breasts, “Touch me daddy,” she said in a rather demanding tone. At that, Shawn laughed more than anything, but he did run his hands over her chest, massaging and kneading at her breasts while he leaned down to kiss her. Shawn’s kisses were hungry at that point and he was leaning down closer to her, almost purring into those kisses himself, partly because he could tell how worked up she was getting. “More,” she panted against his lips and Shawn dropped one hand from her chest, running it down her stomach and sliding it between her thighs. Almost instantly he was running his fingers up and down along the slit of her pussy, gentle teasing motions. Céline was moaning into those kisses constantly, melting into his touch and melting against his lips. Her hands held his sides, one of her hands sliding lower as she looped her fingers through his belt loop. Shawn’s lips stayed on hers, hungrily kissing her as his lips parted and his tongue slipped into her mouth as his fingers slipped into her pussy. He found equal amounts of wetness in both places, and his fingers slid so easily inside of her, already creating a soft squelching sound as he massaged them inside of her. He slowly broke that tongue-y kiss, sucking at her tongue as he broke his lips from hers, “You’re wet,” he whispered against her lips, both of them knew that, “You must have wanted me so bad,” Céline nodded eagerly at that, her knees already almost pressing together as she whimpered and squirmed at the feeling of his fingers inside of her, “Yes daddy, I wanted you so bad, I told you it gets me so worked up to see you get so mad,” That made Shawn moan as he nipped at her bottom lip, looking at her with half lidded lusty eyes, “You really do, I can feel how worked up you get. That pussys so wet and so tight on my fingers baby, I don’t even know if my cock will fit in there,” he said against her lips, smiling wide and pleased with himself as Céline gave a very noticeable shiver. “If it won’t fit you can just make it fit, daddy,” she whispered against his lips. But Céline’s hand was on his wrist now, almost just like steadying herself as he worked his fingers inside of her. She was moaning constantly, trembling as her body already clenched against his fingers, that warmth building up in her stomach. She could feel her cheeks blushing now, a soft pink almost like mimicking the bright pink of Shawn’s still cool from the ice skin. “It feels so good Shawn,” she breathed now, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Shawn returned that look, his own starving but he gave her a grin, “Good, I want to make you feel good baby, you know that. This is what you wanted right? That’s why you pulled me in this locker room, that’s why you came to this practice without panties? I wonder how long you’ve been planning this, you dirty little slut,” the both of them felt her clench against his fingers as he said that, “Your dirty slut daddy,” Céline almost mumbled, a half pouty half baby voice while she leaned up, nuzzling against Shawn’s chest. “Yes baby, my dirty slut, my dirty little fucking whore, taking my fingers in the locker room of the ice rink. You’re going to take my cock too aren’t you hm? You’re just going to bend over and let me fuck that tight pussy. Right here, right where anyone could walk in on us, and you love it, don’t you? You love being on display for me, for anyone who might see us,” Shawn’s voice was low and husky almost like a growl as he got lower and lower, until he was pressing his forehead against hers, tilting his head to brush his nose and lips against hers, half humming some of the words he spoke. “Yes daddy,” Céline whined softly against his lips, “I’m your dirty little girl, it makes me so wet that you’re going to fuck me here, that you’re going to use me and someone might hear us or see us…it makes me feel so naughty…I really like it,” she said still half whining as she nodded up at him. “Me too,” he purred against her lips, his free hand moving to wrap around her throat. His fingertips touched the sides of her jaw, almost squeezing there as he locked his eyes on her, “It makes me so fucking hard when you act like this,” he was speaking through gritted teeth now. Almost jerking his fingers inside of her, Shawn almost pulled her hips forward with each tug. Yet, despite the way she could see the strain in his biceps, it didn’t hurt Céline, in fact all she felt was waves of pleasure running through her as she got closer to her orgasm. “Who does this pussy belong to baby, huh?” he hissed against her lips, squeezing her throat just a little tighter. “You daddy,” she almost gasped, and Shawn’s eyes fluttered slightly before he locked his back on hers, “And what’s my name baby, say my name while you cum for me. I can feel it, you know that right? I can feel that pussy squeezing my fingers over and over, you’re so fucking close, I want to hear you scream my fucking name while you cum,” he hissed. It was almost instantly that Céline felt herself reach her orgasm, it seemed like it came out of nowhere, and the intensity caught her just as much by surprise. “Shawn!” she yelped, not nearly as loud as she thought she did, the hand around her throat stifled her enough that it came out like a hoarse plea, like a kitten trying to mewl for the first time. “My pussy is yours Shawn,” this was softer now, her voice hoarse dry sobs as he loosened his grip on her throat. But she was shaking now, her knees buckling and Shawn felt himself pulling her up and holding her steady, “That’s right baby, that’s it,” he said slipping his fingers out of her pussy as his other hand held her up. He massaged his fingers along her slit for a moment, letting her ride out the feeling before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up into a passionate kiss. They kissed like that for a minute, so starving for each other, Céline desperate for more and Shawn desperate for anything. Almost as soon as Céline felt safe to stand on her own two feet again, she gently lifted one of her feet, pressing her upper thigh against the crotch of Shawn’s pants, ever so slightly rubbing back and forth to create gentle friction. “You’re so hard daddy,” she whispered against his lips, breaking those kisses. “I want you to call me Shawn,” he said against her lips, “For the rest of the time were in here, I want to hear you say my name when you talk to me, I don’t want you to forget who’s making you cum this fucking hard,” he whispered, but used his stern voice all the same. “Yes, Shawn,” Céline whispered against his lips. “Good girl,” he whispered, and she could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her lips. Clearly Céline wasn’t the only one worked up, but she was the one being shoved about, as moments later Shawn grabbed her hips and turned her. He flipped her suddenly and so quickly that she could barely catch up, hands on her hips moving her so that she was facing the wall she’d been pressed against. One hand pressed against her back, and the other pulled her hips, so that she was as at slight arch but her cheek pressed against the wall. His shoe gently knocked her ankles apart, the lightest but firm movements being sure not to scuff her ankles as she was in cute sandals. She braced herself to feel that fullness inside of her, but it wasn’t what came next. Shawn’s hands stayed on her hips as he crouched down, pulling her hips farther back making her arch more. Moments later she felt his lips, the warmth of his breath, his tongue hot and wet dragging along the slit of her pussy. She could feel the curls of his hair and the soft prickles of the stubble on his chin against her thighs as he tilted his head to squeeze in place. Naturally though she found herself clinging arching against him, trying to get more of that feeling. Her palms were flat against the wall as if that would give her some leverage. Shawn was almost moaning against her skin, licking and sucking over her, prodding his tongue to slip into her, all very eagerly. Céline did try to haphazardly reach a hand under herself to tangle in his hair, to no avail. She tried to slip it behind her, and really only ended up petting him. So she content herself with just enjoying the feeling, gently moving her hips to grind herself against his tongue. She was moaning constantly and desperately; it was like she couldn’t stop. The more Shawn’s tongue pressed into her, the more his lips gently sucked at her clit the louder she got. It didn’t take long before she pressed her mouth against her hand on the wall, biting into her own skin gently to try and stifle the noise she was making. But even still, the quiet moans, shrill noises and little ‘oh Shawn’s were still very audible to the boy between her thighs. One of Shawn’s hands did rest on the floor, keeping himself steady since he was half crouched there. The other hand though snuck up in front of Céline, running up her stomach to find her breasts. He massaged and kneaded over her tender pale skin, his eyes only fluttering, and Céline felt his eyelashes against tender skin, as he felt her slick inner walls clench against his tongue. He was a devil, that Mendes was, Céline found herself thinking as she squirmed. He knew she loved it when he teased her breasts, when he gave them any attention at all really. Shawn’s hand worked over her chest now, groping and teasing her as his tongue only pushed deeper inside of her, before sliding back up to tease her clit. Once again Céline could feel her thighs beginning to tremble, that warmth building in her stomach, her noises only becoming more desperate. But just as quickly as he’d moved her, Shawn pulled back, standing up behind her, and one again he grabbed her hips, “Come on,” he said in a stern voice. Céline just whimpered as she half stumbled, letting Shawn pull her wherever he wanted, “I was so close daddy,” she whined. Seconds later Shawn pushed her forward, bending her over the sink in the locker room, as one hand tangled in her hair. He pulled her head up so she looked in the mirror, her eyes locked on their reflection. His face was stern, but so full of lust, his eyes were starving and his jaw was tight. The bruising that was beginning to take form on his face only seemed to highlight the natural shadows and curves of his jaw. That dried blood on his lip now a bit smeared, with what almost looked like fresh blood seemed to make his lips appear fuller. Céline found herself focusing on his lip, that was a fresh smear of blood, and she wasn’t sure if she was more concerned or aroused by the fact that the way he’d smothered his face against her clearly reopened that cut. Shawn’s hand snapped her out of that thought process as it fell, making contact with her ass and leaving a red handprint in it’s wake. Céline gave a soft yelp as her brows furrowed pitifully. Before she could open her mouth to complain though, Shawn scolded her, “What did I fucking tell you to call me, huh?” he asked in that same stern tone. “You told me to call you Shawn,” she whispered in a quiet voice, giving him big baby eyes, “I’m sorry Shawn,” she cooed, “I just got frustrated. I was so close Shawn, you were making me feel so good,” her voice was almost a whine as she tried to hang her head, almost in shame. “It’s okay baby,” Shawn said softly, leaning forward, tilting her head to the side and giving her forehead a soft kiss before kissing her lips once, “Just try and remember okay? I don’t like having to spank you,” he said giving her a nod. But Céline nodded eagerly in agreement, “Yes sir, Shawn,” she said smiling as she looked back up in the mirror. “And don’t worry,” he said speaking in a much huskier tone now, “I’m about to make you feel so good again,” Céline’s eyes fell to his hands now, watching him undo his pants as he spoke, she swallowed hard, eagerly arching herself a bit more. She was almost naturally shaking her hips at him, like demanding that he hurry up silently. It was a struggle for her to suppress a moan as Shawn pulled his cock free of that fabric, more of anticipation than anything else. She was soaked, her pussy clenching on nothing as she waited there for him, so desperate to be filled. “Please, Shawn,” she whispered looking at him through the mirror. Shawn gave a little grin as he dragged the tip of his cock along her slit, his free hand resting on her back as he took a step closer and began pressing himself into her. It didn’t matter how many times Céline felt it, that fullness always took her by surprise. No matter how worked up she was his cock always seemed to *pop* into her, causing shivers to radiate through her. Her initial reaction was moaning in SUCH a desperate way, a long needy noise as she felt that sweet pleasure radiate up through her body. “God Shawn that feels so fucking good,” Céline almost whined, gripping the edge of the sink so tight her knuckles were turning white. “I missed your cock so bad,” she whispered. Shawn gave a lusty little laugh at that point, “You’re so cute,” he said tangling his hand back in her hair just to make her look up into the mirror, “Look how cute you look with that cock inside of you,” he said as he finished pushing up into her. Céline did look and up in that mirror, despite the blush creeping onto her cheeks she did watch herself, and she did watch Shawn behind her and the way the lust painted his face. Moments later he was beginning to thrust into her, his hand letting go of her hair as he wrapped his arms around her. One hand slipped between her thighs, fingertips gently massaging over her clit as his opposite hand found her chest. Once again he massaged and kneaded over her breasts, touching her up as he began to build up to a steady pace. “God Shawn that feels amazing,” she said in a whisper, looking up in the mirror and locking eyes on her boyfriend. As their eyes met though, Shawn leaned a little closer to her and nuzzled his lips along her neck. His hands slowed up just a bit, as well as his thrusts, but he took a moment to kiss down the curve of her skin. “I love you,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose into her hair, eyes fluttering as he inhaled deeply. “I love you too, Shawn,” Céline panted, tilting her head to the side to nuzzle back against him. After a few more kisses to her temple though Shawn stood back straight, his fingers going back to massaging her clit as his opposite palm moved over her breasts, teasing and massaging. Once again he was thrusting into her steadily, constant but soft moans pouring from his lips. Céline was a bit louder, humming and moaning, whimpering softly when he hit just the right spot inside of her. “You like taking my cock in the middle of this locker room?” he panted, looking back up at her through the mirror again, a smirk on his lips. “Yes Shawn,” Céline whimpered, panting as she pushed her hips back against him, almost trying to grind against his fingers. “Such a dirty little girl, you’re so wet right now. That pussy keeps clenching on my cock over and over. You’re so excited to be getting fucked like this in public, where anyone could walk in any second. I can feel how much that pussy likes it, and it’s so fucking hot,” Shawn almost purred each word, and Céline could feel her body heating up once again. “I’m so dirty for you Shawn,” Céline panted, half moaning each word, her voice beginning to vibrate lightly as Shawn thrust into her faster, “I love being your dirty little girl, I love you fucking me in public like this,” Her voice was turning into a whine as she felt that heat building up in her stomach. That familiar pressure threatening to release all over again. “Shawn,” she whined, glancing back over her shoulder at him, “Shawn, god you’re going to make me cum…so fucking hard,” her voice was desperate as she almost worked herself back against his thrusts, still trying to grind against the touch of his fingers working her clit. When she said that, she could feel Shawn’s cock throb inside of her, his own orgasm clearly threatening to sneak up on them any time. “Cum baby,” Shawn said in a pant, leaning down and kissing at her back softly, just a few messy kisses before going right back to his constant now rough thrusts. It was just enough roughness that Céline could feel it, just a soft dull ache beginning to build up inside of her. Honestly, that did it for her just as much as the pleasure did, the idea that Shawn was that deep inside of her. She could feel him really trying now as well, the way his cock would brush up against that sweet spot inside of her more constantly. His fingers that were working her clit were more focused as he kept up a steady rhythm. Shawn’s eyes were locked on her in the mirror, watching her for the first sign of that release washing over her. Soon enough the both of them felt it, Céline first as that warm pleasure in her stomach snapped uncoiled. As an instant reaction she screamed, but Shawn’s hand quickly fell over her mouth to stop her from actually being too loud, and she was thankful for it. Her hips jerked forward as waves of pleasure washed over her body, over and over, leaving her trembling in pleasure. The fact that moments later she could feel Shawn’s warmth spill into her only accentuated that orgasm. Céline hummed and moaned against Shawn’s hand, just working her body back against him as she road that orgasm out. But from the moment he felt that tight clenching around his cock, Shawn kept his eyes locked on that mirror. The way her brows furrowed, and her eyes half rolled back and fluttered in pleasure. It earned her a soft growl from him as he gave deep almost shoves inside of her, like it was his intention to make sure that cum got just as deep inside of her as possible. The both of them rolled their hips in each other, Céline having to hold onto the sink and also relying on Shawn to help keep her standing. Once the both of them had caught their breath, Shawn leaned forward, gently pulling her head to the side to give her a slow sticky kiss, “You’re the hottest girl in the fucking world and I love you more than you could ever know, but my anxiety is kicking in now and we should get out of here,” he said with a laugh. Céline nodded in agreement though, half lidded eyes and a smile of her own as she gave a soft ‘mhm’. As Shawn stepped back and pulled out of her, moving to grab their clothes, she gave a gasp and a giggle feeling his cum begin to push and drip out of her. “Daddy,” she said in a sing song voice, turning to face Shawn as he picked up her dress and walked back to her, “Are you going to make me walk back to the car with your cum dripping down by thighs?” It was a question but the way she said it made it sound like she was asking permission. Shawn laughed again, nodding some as he handed her the dress back, “Yes baby, I am,” he said knowing his girlfriend well enough to just go ahead and say it for her thrills. “Naughty,” Céline said with another giggle, taking the dress and pulling it back on, straightening it up some and then fixing her hair just a bit. As Shawn finished dressing though she took a step closer to him, fixing his hair a little, “You still have blood on your face, and it’s hot, but it’s sad,” she said licking her thumb before reaching up to wipe at his face. “Hey, owh, ouch, no Céline that hurts,” he said pulling back and giving her a soft laugh, “Come on lets go,” he said wrapping his arm around her and starting to walk her toward the door and out to the car. “Shawn, you just shoved your face in my pussy like it was your last meal and you can’t let me wipe the blood off of your face because it hurts too much?” she said in a scolding tone. Shawn however just gave her a gentle shove as they walked, “Hey, not so loud, who knows who’s listening,” he said in a scolding tone of his own as they made their way to the car. “Really, Shawn?” Céline asked giving him another look, “You’re so lucky I love you,” she teased. “I love you too,” Shawn said, opening the door for her to get in the car and kissing her head as she did, “Now buckle up.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes hockey #hockey #shawn mendes x oc #oc #fic #shawn mendes fic #mine

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rosecolouredash · 5 years

Text

Momentum ; Hockey!Cashton

Summary: Anything your boyfriend did on the ice, you also did on the ice. When dating a hockey player, you had to be ready to carry every victory and every mistake home with you. So imagine dating two.

Warnings: fluff, so soft (duh), sports-related violence.......

Notes: So I have three unfinished one shots for the hockey!au but I’ve hyped this one up the past few days so it moved to the top of my ‘to finish’ list. Hopefully, it doesn’t disappoint. Also, fun fact: this was originally just a hockey!calum fic (Eve, you should know the ONE) with some minor changes…I’ll leave it at that so that y’all can just read. Enjoy ☺️

It was the Saturday morning skate before the game, that evening, against the Hornets. Since the skate was optional, not everyone from the Timberwolves had shown up, with some players opting to rest or avoid the rink before the big matchup. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same for you and your two captain boyfriends.

The continuous loop of skates on ice, whistleblowing and playful banter between teammates were all white noise to you. Sitting in one of the arena’s many seats, you tried to keep your focus on the textbook in your lap. You had an upcoming exam and watching the team practice was not going to stop you from achieving a decent enough grade. Breathing out a sigh, you made note of where you were on your page and stole a glance towards the ice. You could pick out Ashton and Calum, even in a large group of boys, wearing identical jerseys. Though the block letters of ‘C’ and ‘A,’ respectively on their left breast, were a huge giveaway.

Once after a game, you joked with them about the irony of having each other’s initial stitched over their hearts, a showing tell that they belonged to one another, but what about you? That night they made sure to remind you of their feelings for their sweetheart; branding you through peppered kisses and love bites discreetly placed.

—

It was a couple hours in, that your mind began to wander again. Most people would be deterred to spend so much time at the ice rink, especially with the low temperatures but you had grown accustomed to it throughout the years. It also helped that there was never an outage of warm sweaters to be stolen and worn. You were currently wrapped in one of the boys’ hoodies - you think, Ashton’s?

“Ready to head out for lunch, sweets?” Speaking of the devil.

You looked towards the end of your aisle of seats to find Ashton Irwin, captain of the Timberwolves, duffel bag hanging over his left shoulder and hockey stick in hand, on the right. Gathering your stuff together and into your backpack, you met Ash at the end of the row. He set his stuff aside before you wrapped your arms around his neck, in greeting. You breathed in his fresh scent; him having just showered before meeting you. He returned your hug, squeezing gently while placing a quick peck to your temple.

Noticing that he was alone, you broke away, in confusion. “Where’s Cal?”

Ashton retrieved his things, making sure to also take your backpack, and you both made your way towards the exit.

“He’s already outside with Luke and Mike. I hope you don’t mind, they’re joining us at the diner.”

You voiced that you could never mind their company. Michael and Luke were as much a presence in your boyfriends’ lives as you were. Not to mention, you genuinely enjoyed their company being Michael’s official study buddy since you shared a number of classes together at your college. Ashton and Calum were accustomed to your all-nighters and coffee runs together. Luke, on the other hand, was your party friend; the two of you being the lightest of lightweights. To the embarrassment of their bud but amusement for you, your boyfriends could always find you in the middle of a dance floor; both moving completely off beat to whatever music was playing.

When you stepped foot outside, it was easy to spot Luke, Michael and Calum waiting on you, the latter’s black SUV parked at the curb. Your boyfriend’s back was facing towards you so you signaled, with a finger to your lips, to the other two boys. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to you, Calum was well-aware of your plan when he noticed a flicker of a grin appear on both of his best friends’ faces. There was only one person that they made that smile to.

Before you could wrap your arms around Calum, he turned around and made a grab for you. You shrieked in surprise, being the one held tightly around your waist and not the other way around.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

You blew him a raspberry.

He laughed at that and he knelt his head down slightly, so he could nuzzle his nose against yours. Between your two boys, Calum usually wasn’t the one to show much PDA so he must have been really tired from the early morning skate. That was one of the only times he was most affectionate, when he was sleepy; the other being when he would feel extra soft in the bedroom, which wasn’t too often.

Ashton let out a hearty laugh, watching you two as he placed his gear and your stuff into the back of Calum’s vehicle. When you all had calmed down and you properly greeted Luke and Mike with hugs, you left for some well deserved lunch.

—

You had all just finished eating, deciding to hang out at the diner before heading to your respective apartments. Squished in one side of a booth, you sat between Ashton and Cal; Michael and Luke occupying the other side. Easy-going conversations were made between the five of you as you held onto one of Calum’s hands under the table. His other hand was used to prop his head atop of it. Ashton, all the while, kept a gentle grip of your thigh.

When the topic of tonight’s game came into light, an uneasy feeling came over you. The Hornets were the Timberwolves biggest rivals. It wasn’t the Hornets’ team, as a whole, that made you uneasy but one player in particular. The captain of the Hornets, Kyle Larson, always gave the boys a hard time. For whatever reason. It was at their last game and still in the pre-season that Larson almost hospitalized Luke after hitting him hard into the boards. Even though Luke was fine, in the end, Michael was still thrown out of that game for lunging at the Hornets’ captain and giving him a bloodied and broken nose. Larson was suspended for a number of games after the incident and this was the first time they’d come face to face since.

At your sudden silence, Calum gave your hand a squeeze; Ashton doing the same with your thigh. Almost simultaneously. They always seemed to know how you felt and what you were thinking. They hated that their issues on the ice would always come back to you and stress you out. When the three of you had decided to be together, you knew that this was all part of the package deal - the burden of carrying the weight of fights, frustrations and mistakes made while playing the sport they loved but also the joys and the passions from victories, championship titles and trophies.

The team was your family; you would do anything for them. If Calum and Ash could adore you any more than they did, for your love and worry over them and their team, they would.

—

It was now the evening. You stood in the tunnel, between the Timberwolves’ locker room and the entrance of the ice, with your two boyfriends. Ashton and Calum were already taller than you but in full hockey garb and an extra couple of inches on skates, they currently towered you.

This was your pregame ritual. The team being nice enough to leave the three of you alone for a moment together.

“I’m a couple rows above and behind the team’s bench. You won’t miss me,” you said looking up at them.

“We’ll always miss you when you’re not right next to us, sweets,” Ashton replied leaning down to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Real suave, Ash.” You giggled and treated your other boy with a kiss. Calum needed to lean down too.

Before any other words could be shared between you, the sound of someone making a gagging noise interrupted you. Both Ashton and Cal looked away from you and out towards the unwanted guest. Turning your head, you could already guess who it was, based on the frowns gracing your boyfriends’ faces.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Ashton glowered at none other than Kyle Larson, captain of the Hornets.

“Sorry, was I interrupting a moment?” A mock laugh escaping his lips.

With no change in the stone cold expression he was giving the other captain, Calum looked him dead in the eyes. “Nose looks good, Lars. Hope you tipped your surgeon well.”

Larson grimaced, scrunching said nose in habit. He had no real retort to that and so he made his way to the locker rooms meant for the visiting teams. Before disappearing from view, you heard his voice echo down the hall. “See you on the ice, boys.”

—

The Timberwolves were up one goal, in the second period. Currently the Hornets’ captain had possession of the puck. Larson kept eye contact with the Wolves’ top defenceman and alternate captain when he dumped the puck towards their net. He watched, a wicked grin on his face, as Calum’s line turned their backs on them to retrieve the puck. Everyone except Hood, himself.

They were at a stalemate on the ice.

With ten feet between them, Calum let out a breath through his nose, squaring up and taking off towards Larson. His adversary did the same, both set on a collision of catastrophic proportions.

At the moment of impact, Calum felt nothing. Not because the hit was so powerful that it knocked him out but because it never happened. Confusion settled in as Calum twisted his body on the ice, frantically looking for Larson. It seems that Larson had pivoted around him, at the very last second. Calum’s blood ran as cold as the ice he lived and breathed on, when his mind registered the brute’s true intentions.

The hit was never meant for him.

Helpless, he did the only thing that he could and cried out.

—

Your breath caught in your lungs, watching Calum and Larson charge at each other. Squeezing your eyes shut, you waited for the whistle to signal a stop in the play, but it never came. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach when you opened your eyes. You could imagine that you shared the same look on your face as your boyfriend - the one standing frozen on the ice and not the one unaware that the trajectory of Larson’s hit was actually intended for him. At that realization, you abruptly got out of your seat and did the only thing that you could and cried out too.

—

“ASHTON!”

The captain of the Timberwolves could have sworn that, in an arena full of people, you and Calum had cried out for him. Ashton was sure that he could distinguish your voices, anywhere. He was lucky enough to know both of your ins and outs - on the ice, off the ice and behind closed doors. He was confident that he could tell them apart, even in a sea of others. He would have realized, in that moment, he did just that.

If only pain hadn’t blossomed at the back of his body and his head.

If only he hadn’t blacked out.

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @lilbabycalum @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcal @asht0n-irwin

#ro writes #5 seconds of summer #hockey!5sos #hockey!au #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings #poly hockey!cashton #poly cashton #5sos one shot #5sos imagine

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kylorengarbagedump · 6 years

Text

No Accounting for Taste (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: Where the eyes should be, there is a void bordered by rows of chrome lines, and the mouth is muzzled by a flat, carbon slate. It is as human as it is inhuman, an echo of something familiar, like the look of death on the face of a stranger.

Heart pounding, you speak, your voice creaking inside of your throat. “What the fuck is happening?”

The voice that responds crackles inside the mask, mutated and mechanical. “Something very unfortunate for you.”

Word Count: 7100 (oops)

Warnings: Literally everything. This is NSFL. Rape, verbal abuse, literal torture, graphic violence, death. This is a Red Room fic.

Characters: Kylo Ren x (Fat!)Reader A/N: Hello, and welcome to the actual Worst Thing I've Ever Written. I went through this for a few reasons--one, just to prove to myself that I could, two, out of spite, and three, to gift this work to my beautiful friend @daddyrenn / @rosalinaballerina. She has listened to and supported me for like, years now, which is crazy, and I realized I never wrote her anything to thank her. So, here ya go, cupcake. I love you so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

I also hope that whoever else enjoys gross nasty shit like this enjoyed it. It was really cathartic for me to write, so, I'm happy to put it out there for anyone else. Love y'all so much! Thank you for all of your support all these years. <3

laetus_lacrimosa: when’s the show starting?

blueeyeswhited: are you new here? he’s always late

laetus_lacrimosa: it’s been 30 minutes already

xwaifusayorix: yup

laetus_lacrimosa: i’m paying how much for some dickhead who’s always late?

mg3453: hopefully not as much as the rest of us

kyloren has logged in.

kyloren: Five minutes. Bidding at .52 btc begins now.

kyloren: Any other complaints will be addressed by me. In person.

kyloren has logged out.

A droplet of water hits your forehead, and your eyes open. The lights are still on, but you are alone.

The roof is leaking, and not just over your bed, but in several spots across the room. You’re not particularly surprised--you hadn’t paid a fortune for the hostel, but to wake up to cold rain was still not an expected consequence. Sighing, you sit up, wipe your head, and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Thankfully, your mattress is entombed in plastic.

Your brain spins. You’d wanted to sleep through the storm, but it doesn’t seem like that will be an option. And you’re not sure if you can manage sitting on your bed, alone, for the next however many hours. The last time you’d tried it, your legs ended up with a bunch of knife-slashes from the three-inch blade you keep in your backpack. The rest of your hostelmates have abandoned you, apparently, but there’s no surprise there. A knot in your throat grows thick. You can’t run away from your inferiority.

Planting your face in your hands, you draw in a deep breath, hoping the air will quell the burgeoning volcano in your chest. They left because you had said you wanted to sleep. That doesn’t mean you’re inherently uninvited from wherever they went. In fact, you could get up and meet them right now, if you wanted. And want you do.

You stand, shaking the jitters out of your fingers, and step through the sleeping quarters to the living area. Under the heavy rhythm of rain, you hear music, like a stereo blasting from inside a wave--and in its direction, flashing, rainbow lights. A party. A grin tugs at the corners of your lips. That didn’t sound like such a bad way to pass the time. Better than sitting in your room, alone. You snatch a hoodie from your bag and slip on your flip flops before darting through the storm, skipping over stone and sloshing in the tiny puddles already pooling in the grass. And after a few hops, you see it, beyond the curtains of rain: a tent, a safehouse by the shore.

By the time you reach it, your grin is erupting into a full smile, laughter eking out of you as you pull the hood off your head. You can’t remember the last time you’d run through the rain. And as the lights splash onto your face, you realize that you can’t remember the last time you’d danced, either. The music is spirited and electric, a classic reggaeton beat under lyrics in a language you don’t understand. Before you know it, you’re sliding further into the tent, looking for familiar faces, your hips rolling to the beat

You spot a younger woman you’d shared a few light-hearted conversations with this afternoon--she looks totally trashed, but she’s definitely having a good time. Hopefully, being drunk allows her to be even more forgiving of your social awkwardness. But before you reach her, a hand on your shoulder halts you, and you yelp into the noise, whirling around to face the intruder.

“Evening,” he says, sounding as if he’d somehow whispered into your ear from feet away. “Thought you wouldn’t make it.”

“Hey, yeah, I did!” You search his face, brow furrowed. It’s a handsome face--hazel eyes, dark hair, full, pink lips--and it’s on top of a tall, muscular frame. But somehow, you don’t remember him. You’re more self-centered than you thought. “I’m so sorry, can you remind me who you are?”

A tight grin crosses his face, and your name rolls off of his tongue in mock-disappointment. “Really? I’m hurt.”

“Aw, no!” Frowning, you latch onto his forearm, trying to placate him. It’s thick and firm in your grip, and a shudder crawls up your spine. “I’m so sorry! I’ve just been… kind of off. Remind me, please!”

Smiling, he tugs you closer, and your cheeks grow hotter. “It’s Kylo.”

You nod. “Ohh, okay! Hi, Kyle!”

“No,” he says, “Ky-lo.”

“What?” Your face twists, and you turn your ear toward him. “Kylo?”

“Yes,” he replies, and his breath brushes your face. “You’ve got it.”

Hiding an idiotic giggle, you inch back. “This is kind of cool, huh?” What you can’t hide is how your gaze travels his body. All he has on are black jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his thick chest and arms. Fuck, he’s built. “I mean, uh, the party.”

“The what?”

You cup your hands around your mouth, shouting over the music. “The party!”

“It is.”

Kylo stands there, staring, his eyes like voids, absorbing every flash of color in the tent. Under his gaze, your heart throbs, and in the back of your skull, the reptilian bit of your brain catches flame, screaming. But you can’t figure out what it’s telling you. Is it to run? Or to stay?

“Let’s dance,” he says, and barely waits for your nod before he curls one of his large, strong hands around yours and spins your back against his chest. Now you are on fire, your hips rocking with his, your face ready to melt when he leans his lips close to your ear. “Have you ever been to El Salvador before?”

“No!” Heat courses through you when you realize how loud you’ve been. The black-sand beaches of El Salvador weren’t your first choice for a runaway destination. But they happened to fit the three primary criteria: cheap, secluded, and U.S. dollar-friendly. Squeezing his hand, you tilt your head. “I mean, um, no.”

“Really? I come here all the time.” Kylo tugs you closer. The air seems thicker, now. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too.” Your palm is slippery, and you adjust your grip again.

Kylo’s mouth scrapes the shell of your ear. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Silent, you nod.

He leads you through the rain back to the hostel, through the living area and into the sleep quarters. You wait by the doorway as he saunters over to his bag, his shirt sticking to the rippling muscles in his back. Holding a sigh, you chew your lip. Kylo reaches into his backpack and pulls out a wine bottle--it’s wrapped and corked, brand-new--and urges you over with a nod. Lizard-brain wailing, you oblige.

“Where are you from?” Kylo is peeling the foil from the bottleneck while he speaks.

You glance at your feet. “The States.”

“Mhm.” The foil floats to the floor. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“What?” Head snapping up, you meet his gaze. It’s empty. “No, no. Not at all. What?”

“I meant where in the States.” His fist is tight around the wine. “Given your accent, though--New Jersey?”

“Philadelphia.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Really,” he says. “Say w-a-t-e-r.”

Your lips twist into a mock-frown. “Wuder.”

Something twitches on his face. A grin, you think. “Right.” Kylo twists the cork, easing it free. “What does your family think of you traveling alone?”

“Oh.” Your thoughts tangle. For some reason, you want to lie. “They, uh, they’re okay with it.”

“Hm.” A pause, and he locks you in his stare again. “They don’t know, do they?”

“Um…” A swift twist and tug, and the cork pops out. You flinch. “No,” you admit. “They don’t.”

Kylo shrugs. “No shame in that.” He sits on the bed, beckoning you with a nod. “Sit. Have a drink.”

You gnaw your lip again, looking at your backpack. You consider grabbing your knife, just in case. He’s incredibly fucking hot, and you’d love nothing more than to hop on what you are sure is his massive dick, but something about it seems wrong. But you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is real discomfort, or your own fucked-up brain working to deny anything good might ever happen to you.

“I don’t know… Something seems weird about a strange drink from a strange man.”

Kylo smirks. “You saw me open it. And besides…” He pauses to take a long swig, the knot in his throat bobbing with each gulp, and then pulls off with a short gasp. You find yourself wanting to swallow, too. “I hope that’s satisfactory.”

Sweat beads at your nape. “Uh…” Shrugging, you shuffle over and sit next to him. He radiates heat. After the rain, that seems particularly inviting. “Sure. Why not.”

You wet your lips and tip the edge of the bottle into your mouth, the lukewarm liquid spilling out. It’s tart and dry with a lingering salty tang, and you wince as you swallow, smacking your tongue against your palate. You pause for a moment, waiting for the inevitable wooziness and unconsciousness to hit--but they don’t. Maybe he isn’t full of shit. Warmth ebbs through you, and you look over at him, holding out the wine.

“Weird taste. What is that?”

His eyes scan your figure. “You didn’t like it.”

“No, no,” you say, shaking your head. “That isn’t it. It’s just weird and salty. I’ve never had anything like that before.”

“Hm.” Kylo blinks, gaze flitting to the bottle, then back to you. He takes it from you and has another drink, imitating you by smacking his tongue. “That’s what it is.” He does it again. “You’re aerating it. Don’t do that.”

You raise a brow. “Really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”

He presents the bottle. “Try it.”

Pouting, you grab it, taking a long, slow drink, and pull off, fighting the urge to--how did it he put it?--aerate. But you still taste salt. Your brow furrows, and you look at him. The sirens in the back of your head are deafening, now, and you swallow, fingers starting to tremble. You glance at the wine, but the label is in Spanish.

“Um, hey, so… what… what is this? This wine?”

Kylo’s blank gaze meets yours. “Oh. Right. I forgot you asked.”

“Yeah. I did.” Your heart slams against your ribcage.

“It’s gammahydroxybutyrate.”

Shaking your head, you play it over in your head. “Gammahydro--what? What? Kylo--” You reach for him, but you miss. “What the fuck?”

He is flat. “Ecstasy.”

The next thing you remember is hitting the floor.

Darkness is torn from your face, and a matrix of light blinds you, pain leaking from you in gasps as your ears are swallowed by a shrieking whine. Groaning, you shift, attempting to jerk away from the brightness beyond your lids, but your arms stall, your body rocking into the chair. Wait--the chair? You kick, but your legs strain against the bonds around your calves. Wincing, you bow your head, waiting for the ringing in your skull to die before you even try to remember what the hell happened. Then, shade, interrupting the assault on your eyes, cooling your skin for a brief moment. A grunt escapes you; your lids flutter open.

Light is a halo around shadow, the figure in front of you the shape of a man, if men are shaped how you remember. Your vision is water, the sound dull, like you’ve been plunged into a shallow tub. But as it clears, you make out details. He is tall, broad, muscled, wearing… black. A black tank top, black leather pants, black boots, all melting in the murky slime of your brain. The one detail you can’t discern is his face--because it is obscured by a mask. Where the eyes should be, there is a void bordered by rows of chrome lines, and the mouth is muzzled by a flat, carbon slate. It is as human as it is inhuman, an echo of something familiar, like the look of death on the face of a stranger.

Heart pounding, you speak, your voice creaking inside of your throat. “What the fuck is happening?”

The voice that responds crackles inside the mask, mutated and mechanical. “Something very unfortunate for you.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You want to shout, but every bit of effort you make to speak or move is tripled against the weight of your scrambling consciousness. “Let me go. Please. What the fuck is happening?”

He is silent. Your gaze darts around the room--the floor is dirt, the walls are blank, and there isn’t a single window that you can see. To your right, a large, flat screen displays text… lines of it, you think, discussing something. A chatroom. You see one of the names--kyloren--and your blood turns to ice.

El Salvador. The wine. Ecstasy.

Kylo.

Before you can speak, your gaze catches the lines on the screen moving, talking. And they’re talking about you.

laetus_lacrimosa: i love how fucking scared she looks

blueeyeswhited: it’s awesome. she has no idea what’s about to happen

gawinulim11490: what are the limits?

mg3453: are you serious?

xwaifusayorix: lol

Your stomach lurches, and Kylo moves, the light burning your vision again. You squint while your pupils adjust, and see that he’s walked to a terminal where a camera and laptop are arranged. The acid in your belly roars like a wave, eroding your esophagus and singeing the back of your throat, and your chin quivers, quakes resonating to your toes. Fighting your fear, you overcompensate, instead, and glare at the camera, hocking a thick wad of mucus and spitting it at your captor. It falls short, a glob in the dirt. Kylo doesn’t seem to even notice, but the chatroom has.

blueeyeswhited: she’s an animal

gawinulim11490: like every other female who doesn’t get her way. strip them of their privileges and they resort to this.

xwaifusayorix: lmao are you an incel

kyloren: Bidding begins at .29 btc. Open now for the next 30 seconds.

As he types this, the screen explodes with chatter. From what you can tell, there are five people in this room, watching you. Bidding on something. They spit out different numbers, trying to one-up each other in a value you don’t recognize. .88 btc, 1.46, 2.19. The integers climb and climb.

laetus_lacrimosa: 2.93 to strip her and cut her fucking nipples off.

xwaifusayorix: oh shit

mg3453: yeah i withdraw, i wanna see that lol

Breath flies out of you, and you choke. “What? What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

kyloren: Going once. Twice.

No other person speaks.

kyloren: 2.19 btc to watch. Beginning now.

Kylo clicks something, and the chatroom changes. One, two, three of the people who had been in the previous room appear in this one. Kylo appears to adjust the camera pointed at you and turns, pulling a knife from his belt.

You whip your head back and forth, straining at your bonds, toes digging into the dirt, hips twisting to rock the chair. “No, please, stop, what are you doing. Please stop. Kylo, or whatever your name is. Please don’t do this. Please--”

He doesn’t appear to respond, but grabs the back of the chair, stilling it while he slides the knife underneath your shirt. The metal is ice on your skin, and you shiver, whimpering as tears blur your vision. You can’t stop your chin from trembling, your heart from wanting to explode out of your chest. Kylo turns the blade to the ceiling and rips, standing to the side so the camera catches when your belly, chest, and breasts are uncovered. Noise wants to escape you, but it doesn’t--you can only whisper as the tip of the knife shreds the hem of your top.

“Please… please stop…”

If he is moved in any way by your display, his only reaction is to tear the fabric to the side, making sure the entirety of your torso is exposed for the three strangers watching you on camera. Snot slips out of your nose, and you whimper, a chill washing over you. Kylo stares at you--or at least, you think he is. The inability to identify any hint of humanity from his facade makes your blood run faster.

The pause is only brief, however. He grabs the chair again, and slips the tip of his knife underneath your shorts. You want to struggle, but the threat of a blade against your belly paralyzes your limbs. All you do is sob while slices open the front of your shorts, digging the knife into the fabric of your crotch until the mound of your pussy peeks out. You thank your stars that you’re fat enough that your belly sits on top of your thighs, but Kylo sighs.

“I forgot how fucking fat you were.”

Growling, he takes the knife and rips open the hems on your sides, tearing the fabric away so that your front is now completely naked to the camera. After that, he bends forward, working at the bonds at your feet, and for a moment, there is a tease of relief. The ropes--or zipties, or something, you can’t tell--come off, and your heart roars with adrenaline. You pitch forward, attempting to leap up, but the chair only squeaks, and Kylo’s head snaps toward you.

“Fuck you!” With a shriek, you try to drive a heel into his shoulder, but he snatches your ankle in a large, gloved hand, and before you even move your other leg, that one is seized, his strength so overpowering that you wilt in his grip, collapsing against the chair.

You realize that was his goal, now, all along, while he spreads your legs wider, revealing your cunt to the camera. Another sob wells up in your chest, and you wiggle in protest, feeling helpless as he rebinds you to the chair. Under his breath, you hear him laughing.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “It’s so much easier when you behave.”

“Fuck you.” Your breath shudders in your chest. “Please stop.”

Through your tears, you glance over at the chat--and immediately wish you hadn’t.

blueeyeswhited: christ she’s so fucking disgusting--her body is a fucking mess. has anyone ever actually fucked that? lmfao

mg3453: her tits are fucking embarrassing. she’s in her 20s and they’re already sagging to her pussy

gawinulim11490: are you kidding. her tits have looked like that since she was a teenager. her body is just fucked up.

laetus_lacrimosa: females actually do this to themselves

The terror and anguish inside of you boils, and you glance over at Kylo. You see nothing but a silhouette of darkness.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” You’re spitting, now, snot and saliva soaring from your face. “You’re all sick pieces of shit! Fucking sick misogynistic pieces of shit!”

xwaifusayorix: LMFAO

blueeyeswhited: “misogynist” is she a fucking feminist LOL

gawinulim11490: yes she is, but she doesn’t know the first thing about it. she’s a fucking idiot.

You hate that person in particular. They seem to know you. They talk about you like they’re an expert. You glare at the camera.

“Fuck you, whoever you are. I swear to god, when I get out of here, you will fucking pay for this!”

xwaifusayorix: lol

mg3453: well it makes sense that she looks like that now if she’s a feminist

laetus_lacrimosa: cutting off her nipples will be an improvement

Out of the corner of your eye, Kylo moves toward you, and you snarl. “Fuck you. Don’t even come near me.”

“You have no choice in that matter.”

He tosses the knife, catching it by the handle, and grips the chair again. Heart in your throat, you cry out, thrashing against your bindings, muscles tensing and untensing as words and spit fly, unfiltered.

“Please! Please, fuck no! Don’t do this! Don’t fucking do this Kylo please fuck don’t do this! Please!”

Underneath the mask, you hear a low, quiet laugh. Kylo stands behind you, steadies the chair against his body, and grabs one of your tits, pulling the skin of your areola taut. Your breath is rapid, drool streaming out of your mouth as you scream again, begging him to spare you. He brings the knife to your flesh, and you thrash, trying to slam your head back into his hips, hoping to knock him off balance.

Grunting, he crushes your breast in his hand, making you squeak. “Might not be smart to struggle while I have a knife so close to your chest.”

Face crumpling, you release a shuddering whine, tensing as you watch the knife pierce your flesh.

Searing pain streaks through your nerves, echoing in your fingers and toes, and you screech, throwing your head back in broken sobs while cuts through the layers of skin. A warm fluid spills down your abdomen, pooling in the crevices of your thighs and dripping onto the floor. Your teeth pinch your lower lip, lids shut tight as he carves through you, jolts of hot pain hitting you with each millimeter of skin removed. You can’t decide if you want to go to sleep or wake up.

Your breast flops against your stomach as the last bit of your flesh is removed, and you hear him toss it onto the ground. The thought of opening your eyes makes your stomach turn, but you find yourself cracking open a lid.

Blood has painted you in crimson buckets, and the fleeting pace of your heart is only making it pump out faster. Gasping, you feel faint, and close your eyes again, focusing on your breath, hoping to slow your heart rate so you don’t bleed out. Your entire body is pulsating, and you are trembling--you don’t want to go into shock, either.

Kylo clutches your other breast, tweaking your nipple in his fingers. Another laugh rumbles under the mask, and he cuts into your skin once more. The pain is duller, this time, your adrenaline still spiked and your brain focused on keeping calm. Yet you feel like a fish, filleted live on television, strands of hanging skin snipped and ripped from you, and you are bathing in warm fluid pumping from your own heart. Your second breast drops, and you groan, dizzy. It’s a lot of blood, leaving you--you don’t even need to look.

“That’s an issue,” says Kylo. His voice sounds filtered through water.

You hear rustling, and then the flicking of something--a lighter--and your lids pop open. Dread sinks into your bones when you watch him wipe his knife on his pants and hold it over an open flame. Whinging, you shake your head, the tears coming again.

“No, no, no no no…” You heave, swallowing vomit. “Please, no, no, we can do a tourniquet or something, please, no no no…”

“You’d rather bleed out?” His voice is dull, even under the modulator. “Besides,” he says, spinning the knife over the lighter. “We need you awake for every part of this. Otherwise it isn’t any fun.”

Vomit threatens again, but you swallow, shuddering. “Fuck you.”

Kylo releases the lighter and moves forward. Before you can even protest, he presses the flat end of the blade against your wound, and you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks, shivers wracking your body as blinding pain whites your vision. A sob crawls out, and then another, and another, before you are heaving, drooling, and wailing in desperation. You try to breathe, but can’t, gasping and whining for air--and you finally vomit, hurling onto your chest, the rest bubbling out down your chin in an acidic burble.

“Stop. Stop, please,” you wheeze. “Please, just stop.” A rare breath fills your lungs, and you cough. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

The weight of his gaze heavy on your frame as he re-heats the knife over the flame. “Because someone paid someone to pay me.” He steps forward and cauterizes your other wound, and you screech again, agony wracking you as your skin sizzles and pops under the heat. The smell of burnt flesh permeates. You want to vomit again.

Finished, Kylo wipes the knife on his pants again and puts it back into the sheath on his belt. You are quaking with terror and pain, sweat has drenched your lower back and hair, and you are still trying to focus on your breath. Kylo clicks something at his terminal, the rest of the voyeurs are back in the chat.

blueeyeswhited: holy shit she looks fucked up

laetus_lacrimosa: dumb fat bitch lol

mg3453: this is exactly what all these commie cunts deserve

gawinulim11490: don’t compliment her by insinuating she knows anything about being a communist.

xwaifusayorix: lmao shit

Your head is spinning. Is that it? With the bidding done, are you just going to be tossed out like this? Maybe he won’t even let you go.

“Kylo, please…”

Then, he types.

kyloren: Bidding open again. Starting at 2.93 btc. Open now for the next 30 seconds.

mg3453: 2.93 to shut her up. rape her mouth and make her vomit again

blueeyeswhited: nice

gawinulim11490: he’ll rape her?

xwaifusayorix: lmao cuck

laetus_lacrimosa: he’ll do anything--he’s a monster

kyloren: Going once.

gawinulim11490: i’ll double it. 5.86 btc to rape every disgusting hole. choke her. make her lick cum off the floor. remind her how repulsive she is.

Your heart sinks into your gut. Your mouth is dry.

kyloren: Going once. Twice.

kyloren: 5.24 to watch. Beginning now.

The chatroom changes in the same way it had before, only now all five people who had been in the chat before slowly join. After the last person appears, Kylo turns, pulling the knife out from his belt once more. You can only swallow, staring at him with pleading, wet eyes, hoping that if you seem pathetic enough, he’ll let you go, or spare you, somehow, with any hint of kindness.

When he cuts you free of the chair, you kid yourself into thinking, for a moment, that he’s done just that. You swivel to try and look at him, to catch his intention, but find yourself horrified when you turn to see him pulling his cock out of his pants, guiding his hand up and down the hardening shaft.

Heat licks up your spine, and you babble something nonsensical before shaking your head, blinking away the tears.

“Bend over the chair.” His voice is even darker, more commanding, under the mask.

You don’t want to bend over the chair, but you are so weak and tired, the thought of what might happen if you don’t bend over the damn chair is even more terrifying. You try to move, but find yourself slipping on your own blood. Puke hits the back of your throat again, and you gag.

“Bend. Over. The chair.”

“I’m trying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry who?”

You pause, and stare up at him. Static has blanketed half your brain. I’m sorry…

A flash of black leather smacks you hard across the face, and you whimper, too exhausted to even grasp at yourself in shock. “You’re sorry who?” he asks, again.

Clenching your quivering chin, you look at the ground, the dirt spattered with your blood. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Much better,” he says. “Now move.”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble.

You sit up, and the parts of your shirt that hadn’t been shredded stick to your sweat. Your shorts, however, stay on the chair, matted a dark red. When you try to stand, wooziness slams you, and you stumble, grabbing onto the chair as your vision doubles, spinning out like a car wreck. Part of you wants to look at the chat screen--see what they are saying--but the other part turns with tiny steps until you are facing the side of the chair. Wincing, you lay yourself across it, ass in the air, knees off the ground. It’s hard to be still, as the seat is still slick with your blood.

“Let’s see if we can find your pussy in all of this mess.”

Leather gloves grip your ass, and you close your lids, wishing that you wouldn’t shiver as he pushed aside the hills of your flesh to find your cunt between your legs. You thought back to when you’d met him at the club--you would’ve happily had consensual sex with him, then.

“You really thought I wanted to fuck you?” he says, as if he’d read your mind. “Answer me.”

Your cheeks flush with fire. “Um… I, uh, guess I did…”

Thwack--your ass and hips jiggle with tremors of pain. He just fucking spanked you. “You what?”

Choking back, a sob, you say, “Yes, sir. I did.”

He laughs with an inhuman derision. “You’re fucking pathetic. I would never be desperate enough to fuck something like you.”

Kylo’s fingers dig into your hips, and the head of his cock pokes between your thighs--but before he can drive himself inside of you, you glide off the chair and collapse in a pile on the ground, and you retch while your burned tits scrape the dirt. Dust erupts in clouds, and you roll to avoid the pain, particles getting into your mouth, forcing a cough.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Fuck…”

Through your fit, you look up at Kylo, who is still stroking his cock--now fully erect. Your heart drops even further. It’s enormous.

“Get up, bitch.” Behind the mask, you know he’s smiling. “Get back on the chair.”

You push yourself up on buckling elbows, dragging yourself like a corpse back onto the chair. Shaking, you drape yourself across it, and Kylo once more grapples your hips. The warm, throbbing head of his dick slides across your legs, seeking out your cunt, aching to tear it open and make you scream. You bite your lip, grimacing in anticipation--but when he thrusts, you lose grip on the chair again and tumble back onto the ground, rolling onto your back while you stifle a whine.

“Stupid whore.” Kylo kicks you in the stomach with the toe of his boot, and you heave, curling into a ball. “Can’t even stay on a chair.” He sighs, his erection bobbing in need. “But you’re used to being fucked like an animal, aren’t you?”

“What--”

Kylo pounces, clutching a fistful of your hair as he whips you around, shoving your face straight into the dirt. You moan in pain, drool dripping in globs from your face, caking your mouth and cheeks in mud. Gloved hands pull your legs apart, and then a hard, thick cock is pushing at the folds of your dry cunt. Grunting, Kylo cranks your head back, his voice low in your ear.

“Not wet for me yet?” A smothered laugh. “That’ll change soon.”

Gasping for breath, you almost beg for him to stop--but then he rams into you, ripping through your walls, and you screech, bucking against him, arms flailing. He lays his entire weight on top of you, like a boulder pressing you to the ground, and curls his fingers in your hair before thrusting again. A throttled shout escapes you, and Kylo’s other hand wraps around your throat, strangling any other noise. All you can do is slobber as tears trickle along your jaw.

“Mm, fuck,” he hums into your ear. “I feel you getting wet. You like this, don’t you?”

A long, agonizing pull out, and then another excruciating drive in. Shame seeps out of your pores as you realize--he’s right. The base of his dick pulses when he seats himself inside of your pussy, and your body reacts, walls instinctively squeezing. He laughs, tugging you somehow closer, the cold muzzle of his mask settling in the crook of your neck.

“That’s right,” he says. “You feel like a whore.” He drags out, and slams back in. “You look like a fucking pig.”

Kylo finds his rhythm, punishing you with his dick as he growls into your ear, hand just tight enough around your throat to keep you conscious while you fight for lucidity through the pain. Your pussy is wet, now, a humiliating and automatic reaction to the painful fucking he’s forcing upon you. It’s only then that you can actually process it--he’s raping you. This is all actually happening. The realization is almost anesthetizing--you can’t feel your face anymore, anyway, you think it’s been numbed with tears--and any sound you make escapes as guttural, animalistic sobs.

“That’s right, little pig,” he says. “Squeal for me.” Kylo releases your neck to smack the side of your face, and the sharp pain provokes something inside of you--you squeal, like a rutting, dirty farm animal, and when he returns to choke you, you squeal again, in shame. He snickers. “Good pig…”

The constant raking across the dirt has rubbed your body and pained nipples raw, making every movement above you torturous. Kylo pumps deep into your cunt, piercing your cervix over and over and over, his breath leaving in dark, mechanical huffs. You want him to cum so badly, just so this will be over. In angst, you groan, loud and long.

“It feels that good?” he asks. “You love taking cock, don’t you? You’ll take it wherever.”

Kylo pulls out, but before relief hits you, you feel the tip of his slickened cock pass over your asshole. Horrified, you groan again, but in his grip, under his weight--you are weary, helpless. You can only whine and screech in protest as he presses against you.

“You want it so badly. You’re fucking disgusting. But I knew that the second I realized you wanted to fuck me.” He huffs when he pushes the tip of his dick into your ass, and you grunt in pain. “You were so desperate. So lonely.” Another thrust, deeper, more unbearable. “And those cuts on your legs…” A hard, deep thrust this time, and you howl. “Do you think anyone actually wants to give you attention?” He pauses. Smacks you, and gasp. “Do you?”

Voice ragged, you reply, “N-no… No, sir…”

Kylo tugs you back and slams his hips against your ass, and you wail in agony as he splits it open. It feels hot and cold and empty and full all at once. You are dizzy with pain and exhaustion, overcome while he pounds you, fucking into you harder than before. His cock is hard and sharp, a nail trying to splinter you like a board.

“Go on, pig,” he growls. “Squeal for me like the filthy little swine you are.”

He slaps your cheek, and like a stupid, trained pig, you squeal--a horrible, wretched sob that scrapes its way out of your throat. Another moan leaves him, and he gives you two hard thrusts before pulling out of your ass, his dick like sandpaper against your sore flesh. You gag, and then yelp as he yanks you to your knees by your scalp. He is quick, smacking the side of your face to part, and then shoving his dirty cock straight into your mouth.

You retch, the taste revolting, but Kylo grips your skull in both his massive hands and fucks down into your throat, your hair his reins. There’s a visible urge to let his head fall back and cum, but he fights it, locking with your stare behind his mask. Water spills over your cheeks again, your eyes rolling as you fight your own urge to pass out. It is almost impossible to breathe with his thick dick constricting your airway, stretching your jaw, making you drool.

“Such a good little squealer… Almost made me cum.” His voice is uneven, now, his thrusting erratic. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? And you’re barely good for this.” He slaps you. “Stay awake, cunt.”

Gurgling against his erection, you nod to the best of your ability. Your compliance has you wanting to throw up, too, but there has been too much to fight--knowing it is almost over, you want him to hurry so you can leave and forget him forever. After a lot of therapy, probably.

“Fuck… fuck--”

Kylo’s hips pitch, and he groans, pulling out of your mouth and jerking his cock as it twitches in front of your face, holding your head still. A gasp, a groan, and he climaxes, jets of hot cum splashing your eyes and lips, mixing with spit and tears and dirt. Sighing, he squeezes the last drops of his release from his dick, wiping them on your face and shoving you back into the dirt.

You hit the ground and shatter, the pent-up fear and adrenaline pouring out in broken, weeping breaths. Part of you wants to cover your face with your hands, but the other part is too disgusted to touch any reminder of his presence.

“Clean it up,” comes Kylo’s voice.

It is an echo in the chamber of your bawling. You can do nothing but wheeze, ache, and cry. There is nothing left in you to do an ounce more.

But Kylo is unsatisfied with this. “Clean it up.” His foot collides with your stomach on the final word, and you screech, crying harder.

You fold into a ball, trying to block him from your private break-down. The crying is uncontrollable, at this point, all you can do is ride the waves of anguish. Then you hear Kylo snarl.

Pain explodes in your skull when he stomps on it, jamming his heel into your temple, and he kicks you again, knocking the air from your lungs. “Clean it up, you filthy bitch.”

Coughing, you try to nod, acknowledging his order, shivering while you pull yourself up from the floor. Every part of you aches, resonating with pain and the tremors of torment. Glancing at yourself, you are covered in blood, dirt, spit, vomit, and semen. You can’t bring yourself to view the chat screen. What have they been saying this entire time? You suppose it doesn’t matter.

Swallowing what scraps are left of your pride, you wipe the caked semen off of your face, gathering it in dirty clumps and dragging them onto your tongue. The taste is acrid, bitter and salty and dry and sticky--and you heave trying to finish the first glob. Closing your lids, you persist, steeling your stomach as you clean your face of every last viscous drop of his semen. As you finish, you open your eyes, blurred tears clear, and see the chat.

blueeyeswhited: holy fucking shit

mg3453: that was fucking incredible

laetus_lacrimosa: i knew she could take a big cock

gawinulim11490: what a fucking whore. she fucking loved it.

xwaifusayorix: like every other female, lol

laetus_lacrimosa: look at her cunt, it’s so fat and wet

blueeyeswhited: what kind of feminist loves being raped? lmao

gawinulim11490: she does. she’s a fucking joke. i told you that she’s not a real feminist. she’s a boring, joyless, leftist cuntbag.

mg3453: goddamn lol. are you sure you’re not an incel?

gawinulim11490: fuck off.

Their words don’t bite, as they did at first. You’re too fucking tired to care. Glancing over, you see that Kylo has already tucked himself away, and is making his way to the terminal. This had to have been the last part. Surely his plan is to sign off and let you go. Surely…

kyloren: Bidding opens at 5.86 btc. You have 30 seconds.

Adrenaline again. “No.” You try to scramble toward him. “No, no!”

blueeyeswhited: cut her fingers off. 5.86 btc

kyloren: You’ll need more than that.

xwaifusayorix: 7.86 to cut off her toes

laetus_lacrimosa: 9.44 to cut her guts out

xwaifusayorix: oh fuck lol

You slump onto the ground. They’re not going to stop until you’re dead. Heart skipping out of your ribs, you claw to Kylo’s feet, curling your arms around them, scratching the leather like a hopeless cat.

“Kylo, please… please, don’t…”

kyloren: Going once.

“Please, Kylo, sir, please, please, please…”

kyloren: Going twice.

“Kylo… sir, don’t do this…”

gawinulim11490: 15.73 to cut the dumb bitch’s head off. spare the world of another fat leftist idiot.

Breath freezes in your lungs. No one else in the chat says a word.

kyloren: Going once.

kyloren: Twice.

He pauses, you think, for a second longer. You don’t dare speak.

kyloren: 11.79 to watch. Starting now.

The chat switches, and the only one who joins is the person who bid.

You hug Kylo’s legs, trying to hold him, pleading and pleading for him to release you. It is mostly gibberish, nonsense strung together with despair. God, you didn’t want this, you realize now, if you were let go you’d be better, you’d do better, you’d do whatever you needed so that you were never hated this badly again. On some end, you must deserve it, if someone is willing to pay money over and over to see you brought to this.

Beyond your sorrow, you feel Kylo moving, dragging you across the ground while he moves in front of the camera. Without a word, he gnarls his fingers in your hair, wrenching you to your knees, twisting your body so you kneel facing the camera. You are sniveling, and just as silent as him.

It’s not that you think, perhaps, you deserve to die. It’s that you realize that it is inevitable. It is, you hope, the same revelation that hits a cancer patient after a grim diagnosis, or the one that blinks into the mind of a driver during a head-on collision. The same revelation that perhaps only half of the population is lucky enough to have, before they collapse or bleed or pass in their sleep. And here you are, having it now--you are about to die at the hands of this monster. At least you’ll finally be free.

Kylo stands behind you, and you hear a hiss and metal squeak. To your left, a heavy thump. Fingers still tangled in your hair, he snaps your head up, and you see his face again. For a moment, you can’t understand why he’s done this--but you realize the camera must only see you.

His eyes are voids. Yet he looks just as pretty as you remember. You should’ve known that no one this attractive had good intentions for you.

Then the blade of his knife slices into your neck, and you sob--but the blood is hot, spurting in a river, and you feel his fingers tighten in your scalp, and then another tear in your flesh, and you choke on your blood, coughing and sputtering and twitching in pain, and everything is fuzzy, and numb, you can’t feel your fingers, or your body, or even feel your breath, and soon you know you aren’t breathing youaren’t seeingand everythingis blankandemptyandblack.

blueeyeswhited: oh fuck that’s a lot of blood

laetus_lacrimosa: not exactly a clean cut job

mg3453: look how upset she was lmao

gawinulim11490: she deserves it.

gawinulim11490 has logged off.

mg3453: shit. good show anyway.

xwaifusayorix: i still think that guy was an incel

laetus_lacrimosa: incels don’t have cash like that, idiot

xwaifusayorix: true.

xwaifusayorix has logged off.

laetus_lacrimosa has logged off.

blueeyeswhited has logged pff.

mg3453 has logged off.

Session has ended.

kyloren has logged off.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #no accounting for taste #dead dove: do not eat

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kayzuss · 7 years

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Hello world, this is me. Recently, I've been dealing with quiet a bit of depression in this head of mine. Depression I know I can beat and get out of, eventually. But for now.. I'm just really in a dark place. I fell into this crazy deep hole in my head when I was told by a friend an ex of mine had passed away. My ex was my first "boyfriend" he was the first person I told my secrets too and held extremely close to my heart. He actually even took my virginity lmfao so he was really my first everything. But most importantly, he was my first love, my first best friend who I knew actually gave a damn. He was even the first boy I took home to meet my family. We were young when we met. We actually met at a friends birthday. I thought he was cute, but, I was an awkward child and he was the cute goofy kid. A few girls were all over him, talking to him, sitting on his lap, sharing drinks. I didn't want to step up and speak to him, I wanted to observe him. Something happened. I was sitting with my friend Brandi and a boy we were both friends with Kyle, joking around making sex jokes and Kyle drawing penis drawings on everything. I remember he saw Kyle's drawing on a ballon and saw us cracking up. He came over and sat down with the birthday girl at our table. Before I knew it, he was right in front of where I was sitting at the table. Then before I knew it he was sitting next to me, and we were chatting away. Giggling about dumb thing and how others were acting. He was such a big ball of energy I was so attracted to him. This was a birthday party I didn't even want to go to. I felt awkward the whole time. I didn't know anyone. It wasn't till I met him and I spoke with him that I didn't want to leave. After that.. he was gone. I didn't see him again. I went on in life thinking about that kid but never asking anyone about him. I finished out that school year and went on to get a summer job. I was a "locker girl" at a water park. It was my first job. I basically was a cashier who sold lockers only really. My job was definitely for the loner kids. I worked alone. Barely spoked to others. Doodled most of my day away. But it was my first job so I was very content. One day I was just clocking in and released the girl from the morning shift. I got settled and was looking out on the grounds, people watching which was my norm. I swear I saw an orb of gold come down the stair surrounding this person. He was smiling ear to ear joking with another life guard. He had bright blue eyes that were so piercing I almost thought I was making this person up. He literally had sky blue eyes and a smile that was so white they looked like the clouds in the sky. The gold orb was like the sun's rays. I was in awe. I was so confused when this angel like person stop at the end of the stairs and started walking my way. Right when I stopped appreciating "the view," and right before it was directly infront of me I was hit with what felt like an 18 wheeler. In my head I was like "holy shit.. that's.. that's him." He came over smiling, biting his life guard red whistle, trying to be all smooth. "Hey don't I know you from?". Is all I heard. I was shook. I giggled and said "yeah that's me!" Smooth right? I quickly fixed myself from falling off my chair without loosing eye contact. We chatted a little. I ended up being filled with so much anxiety speaking to him that playing with my pen was the only thing that made me feel okay. The only negative part of that, was when it flew out of my hand hitting him not only once, but twice! He was nervously giggling which made me actually feel a little bit better knowing I wasn't the only one nervous. A few conversions later we exchanged numbers. I remember being the ballsy one saying "we should hang out sometime." He agreed immediately. That sometime to him, was that day after our work shift. I wasn't going to say no even with my butterflies making me feel awkward but excited. We ending up going to Ventnor City beach in New Jersey. I actually even know where we sat in the sand exactly. It was sundown. We threw down towels and just sat there and spoke to each other about literally anything that came to mind. He didn't try any moves. I didn't know if he even liked me or if this was an awkward friend hang out. When the sun went completely down leaving the sky black we decided we should get going. We were there for 3 or 4 hours just talking. When we were walking back my hand hit his (completely by mistake) I looked at him completely embarrassed, thankful we were in a dark area so he couldn't see my face bright red, and just giggled. The next thing I know he went to hold my hand. It was weird. My butterflies had left my stomach. They were all over my body. I felt like my heart was skipping beats. Swallowing my saliva felt like an obstacle. My whole body was just happy and it was happy with him. He hugged me goodbye and said he would see me later and went home. He texted me later that night telling me "you looked so beautiful tonight." We ended up starting to date soon after. He was already way advanced in relationships than I was. He didn't push anything though. It took two weeks for us to even kiss, and when we did, we had people cheer (we were at a party, we thought we snuck off enough). All my friends loved him. He fit right in my life perfectly and vice versa. We hung out every second and talked to each other constantly. Life was beautiful. I fell head over heels with this angel, that literally in my eyes, walked down the stairs of Gillian's water park straight into my heart. School started again, it was our junior year. We happened to have one class together. Mrs Ninfa, she taught history. It was his favorite class to write notes and doodle in. We sat next to each other talking threw the whole class. We were the class love birds in that class, it actually became a very funny joke, but we worked it! It was in that class I got my first detention. We were passing notes. He had a rough morning at home. He didn't come from the very best up bringing. Writing to me was an outlet for him to write me notes explaining things for me to understand. We were both very young, so, opening up threw notes helped him and that's what we did. One day Mrs. Ninfa saw him place a note on my desk. She said "give that too me right now." So I did. She said "I'm reading this to the class or you can both take detention right now." Of course knowing what his notes usually contained we both agreed to detention. We both went to detention and then spent the rest of the day together. We didn't really care about the detention. We got caught, so, that just taught us to be faster. We didn't stop writing notes and drawing each other doodles. We dated for a year straight and then had a rough couple months after the break up together. We had flaws in our relationship. He cheated on me and him being my first relationship I had completely lost trust. Being immature and young I thought "u cheat, I cheat, we're even." At the end I cheated and told him immediately. When I say immediately I mean it happened and I said "I have to text my boyfriend" I couldn't believe I had done that. Yes, he did cheat first and I did try to fix the relationship after but I felt such hurt and betrayal from him I couldn't. Even with the cheating he wanted to stay together. I said no. In my eyes you broke my heart, and now I broke yours, we needed to be apart. I was foolish and ran into a relationship with the boy I cheated on him with. I remember texting him while dating this boy and him saying "whenever you want to get back together, we can get back together" it's almost like he knew I regretted being with this new person. The new relationship of course failed. It was a joke of a relationship. I ran into a "bad boy" and started dating him basically right after. He found out who I was dating and reached out again saying the same thing. I told him we could be friends but to not bring that up. We ended up speaking a lot. He actually got into a new relationship. I wasn't hurt by this new relationship he was in but in the back of my head I did think "well what did you mean by whenever I wanted?" He looked happy again. I thought "Kelsey pull back from him.. let him grow and be happy" so, I did. Which now and even then I regretted. The relationship I was in was an abusive relationship. I didn't tell anyone about it. I hid it very well. There were times I wanted to reach out but the love I had for him told me "let him be happy, let him grow without you" so I kept it from my best friend in the dark. When things got real bad in this relationship his name kept popping up. At prom someone said his name to me. My heart jumped and I started searching for him. He wasn't there. At graduation, the girl in front of me went to his new school. She actually said "aren't you his girlfriend?" Even though I was not, she said he always talked about me like I was. I thought and actually hoped I'd run into him somehow. But I never did. The abusive relationship I was in turned into a very toxic abusive end. Cops were involved, a restraining order was issued, and I was lost. I was scared. I didn't want to leave my house in fear. I wanted to reach out but I didn't. It wasn't until I was in a new relationship that I reached out. He liked one of my Instagram posts so I was like "okay so he doesn't hate me." At this point he was dating the same girl for a while now. We spoke for a bit. He told me the good thing and I followed with only the good things. He didn't know about the abuse I was recently in for a very long time and I didn't know the bad happening in his life. We didn't focus on that. We didn't want each other knowing the bad. Threw out the years (8 years total after the relationship) we spoke at random times. Catching up on strictly the good. I spoke to him a month ago. I was laughing at the love notes I kept of his. He laughed and said he remembered writing them. It made me think "wow you really did love me if you can remember almost 10 years ago writing this." We kept it short which was unusual but now he was in a new relationship and I was in a serious relationship and was/am engaged so I wasn't going to continue or push not knowing how this one worked. I wish I did. I wish I told him what I want to now. I kept my pain and my hurt from him after our relationship and so did he from me. We left that conversion as our last. Our last conversion was reminiscing on our love notes, on our love, on us. It's weird I can still hear his voice. I keep having dreams of him. It hurts breaking up with your first love but having them pass away so young hurts even worse. His family told me after we broke up he continued to talk about me like I put the stars in his sky. I tried so hard not to cry at his service. It wasn't until I got home and was alone that I cried my eyes out. You passing was like getting hit again by that 18 wheeler. Just this time I wasn't meeting you, I was saying goodbye to you. I don't even think I said goodbye. I still feel like you're with me. I still message you on Snapchat as if you're going to answer. Sometimes I write you how I feel so you can read it even though you can't. I apologize a lot. I sort of blame myself for not being open to you knowing if I was you would have done the same. I know you loved me and I know we were two immature kids when we were together but what we had was real. "It's kinda cool knowing your first love actually loved you, huh?" - Was said to me at the service. I swear it felt like a stab in the heart hearing that and everytime I think of that I cry. To my real life angel. I'm sorry for all the pain you felt on this earth while you were here. I wish I could have done more. You were and are so loved. You changed my life in such a positive way you could never understand. I love you forever, Tyler E. Dale. 💙

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