Arthur Morgan. He was a private man, kept his secrets locked up tight, and said only a few words. You know the type. But of course, people wouldn’t think said rough and tough outlaw would have a boyfriend of all things. Sure, he was an outlaw, but it could be a bit unexpected because of the times.

Yet, surely the man that stole Arthur Morgan’s heart must’ve been something grand, and it was only more of a surprise (mostly to the gang ofc), to meet the guy and see he was nothing more than an aristocrat horse racer. And a charming one at that. 

Where the two met was unknown, but everyone could see just how smitten the two men were for each other. The gang could see this man was good for Arthur, he wasn’t some stickler for the rules or an arrogant pain in the side. He was just happy to be around, maybe win a few games of cards and such. But, Arthur was still a private man, which proved to be a difficult habit to keep with [m/n].

And perhaps some of the gang got a peak of their romance, but he tried his best to keep the hand holding and smooching to a minimum around them, he wouldn’t be able to handle the teasing he’d hear after. That lovey dovey stuff was kept exclusive to the privacy of a hotel room or Arthur’s tent. It wasn't because he was ashamed or anything, he just wanted to keep his reputation as some cold hearted outlaw clean. (And because he got jealous sometimes..)

It didn’t help that his boyfriend was a sucker for public displays of affection. Nothing too crazy to make him uncomfortable, but he just had a knack for making Arthur flush in front of the others like it was a personal hobby of his. It was frustrating for the outlaw. But, he understood that [m/n] was just proud of their bond. Still, Arthur didn’t need Micah to have any more ammunition to shoot him with when he spoke the shit he did. And asking his boyfriend out for some alone time was always a pain. [m/n] loved making a big deal out of it, acting all flustered and batting his eyes obnoxiously. If Arthur weren’t so fond of the man he would’ve choked him out already. 

As Arthur checked his reflection in the little mirror he used to shave, adjusting himself as needed, he took in a deep breath. Going up to [m/n], who had to be around the camp, probably sitting near the lake or something, would be a feat. Avoiding everyone just to get to his man would definitely be a bit tricky this time a day, he could only hope he’d be left alone and that his boyfriend wasn’t in a teasing mood today.

He made sure to check all of [m/n]’s favorite spots to sit, near the horses, around Pearson’s wagon, and even near the lake, but he seemed to be nowhere to be seen. It was only then, a pit grew in his stomach when he saw his lover, sat at a table where he, Hosea, Lenny, and Uncle were playing a game of poker. God this would be harder than usual. 

Pulling [m/n] away from a poker game would be impossible, that man was more competitive than an angry badger claiming its territory. And asking him out for a date would be even more painful around listening ears and wide smirks. 

But he wanted to spend time with his lover, so he swallowed his pride and trudged over, standing behind [m/n] and peering over his shoulder at the cards he had in hand. He seemed to be winning.. This was good.

“Gentlemen.” Arthur gave a curt nod as he glanced around the table, a warm hand landing on [m/n]’s shoulder out of instinct. “Can I talk to you, [m/n]?” He wanted to call him sweetheart, like he always did, but he caught himself before he could, noticing the smirk on Hosea’s face.

“Course you can, Artie, whatcha need?” That goddamn nickname.

Arthur shifts, his boots crunching the earth beneath him. He clears his throat, feeling like a love-struck idiot as he looks away from the back of his boyfriend’s head. He already felt the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. 

“Privately, I mean. Need ta ask you somethin’.” He was about ready to just drag the man away from the table, but he didn’t want to come off as desperate for affection or attention. He just knew someone would say something.

“Mm, can’t it wait? I got a good hand here, Darlin’..” [m/n] chuckled, glancing back at his boyfriend with a big grin, that competitive look in his eye. It made Arthur just want to kiss him right then and there, seeing all happy like that, and his heart was practically beating out of his chest at that term of endearment.

“I suppose.. But I’d like ta chat before sundown..” Arthur huffs, but he knew his man didn’t hear him, watching as [m/n] placed down his cards, revealing his winning flush to the table. Here comes the gloating.

Every man at that table groaned and threw in their cards, Uncle grumbled under his breath about foul play. [m/n] happily denied the accusations as he collected his earnings, stating “It’s just good luck, old man”.

Arthur rolled his eyes, stepping back as his boyfriend triumphantly stood up, his pockets now lined with the money he won. He was just thinking he’d be able to pull [m/n] away, but Hosea had to go and say something.

“Now, Arthur, I wish your taste in lovers had changed sooner! I haven’t had a good game of poker in years!” The silver haired man laughed, a wheezing sound that came with his old age. It was harmless, but it was enough for Arthur’s cheeks to set ablaze. Goddammit.

[m/n] laughed, his own cheeks flushing slightly. He liked the gang, all of these people were rather entertaining to be around. Well, except for a few of them, but he wouldn’t let a few bad apples ruin the batch.

“C’mon, old man, I can’t be that good.” [m/n] grinned, standing next to Arthur practically glowing with pride. And Arthur just stood there, his face on fire from what Hosea had just said. That old man knew how to just embarrass him, and he knew he was doing it on purpose by that same smirk on his face. 

“Well, if he’s so good then I should pull him away, save your pockets the hurt.” Arthur grumbles, almost pouting as Uncle laughed at him, Lenny had already stepped away, more interested in some book than teasing Arthur and his relationship. Hosea only smirked wider, waving the two men away, having had his fill of poking fun. 

[m/n] turned to glance at his boyfriend, smiling as Arthur suddenly took hold of his arm and began pulling him away from camp. He found a quiet spot around the horses, taking a moment to gather himself before he turned towards [m/n], pulling him closer by the belt loops of his worn out jeans. 

“You’re difficult to deal with, you know that right?” He mumbles, his hands heavy on [m/n]’s hips, his thumbs rubbing circles against the fabric of his shirt. He sighs, shaking his head as the other man just laughs, his arms wrapping around Arthur’s neck. 

“Am I? Maybe you just can’t handle me..” [m/n] hummed, tilting his head slightly, one hand toying with the hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck, a soft smile on his lips.

A comfortable silence settled between the two as they stood there, the sounds of the distant camp and snorting horses filling their ears. [m/n] watches Arthur closely, seeing that his boyfriend was holding something back, remembering the mention of him wanting to ask him something.

“What did you want to tell me earlier, hm? Seemed important.” [m/n] leaned in closer towards Arthur, looking into the pretty pool of blue and green that was the outlaw’s eyes. 

Arthur just hummed, glancing down at his boyfriend’s lips before looking into his eyes again. He chuckles lightly, his cheeks gaining a red color. 

“I just—I wanted to ask if you’d like to.. Maybe go out on a ride? Just us.”

“Mmm… Like a date?”

“..Yeah. A date.”

[m/n] huffed, a soft smile pulling on his lips as he cheeks flush darker. He seemed almost bashful, all that confidence he had early slowly disappearing. Being asked out on a date by his boyfriend always made butterflies flutter in his stomach, even though they’ve been on plenty of dates it still felt like the first time. God, if only this man knew just how in love with him he was.

“Where was you thinkin’ we go?” [m/n] asked softly, unable to fight the grin pulling on his lips. He felt like some schoolboy with a crush, his heart beating loudly in his chest. He feared he’d pass out with how giddy he felt.

“Dunno, there’s a few spots I’ve been meaning to show ya..” Arthur responds, feeling just as love struck as the man in his arms. The urge he had to kiss him stupid was hard to ignore, the longer they stood here the more eager he got to get out of camp.

And [m/n] say the longing in Arthur’s eyes, a small laugh leaving in before he leaned in closer, their breath mingling. In a matter of a second, their lips met in a soft, slow kiss. The rest of the world suddenly disappeared, it was just them, two men deeply in love. It was like time had slowed down, minutes feeling like hours.

Before the kiss could deepen, could get too heated and become sensual, the both of them pulled away. The risk of being watched was too high, not that anyone would likely care, they just weren’t those types of people. This would be done more comfortably in a hotel room or a private spot amongst the wilderness.

“Well, best we get goin’ then, hm?” [m/n] smirked, stepping away and pulling Arthur by the hand, leading him, almost beckoning him with the look in his eyes towards their horses. And Arthur went willingly, the both of them grinning like idiots as they both rushed off to their respected horses, mouthing up quickly and riding out of camp without any care.

Notes: I'm already out of ideas 😭

He kept to his room for most hours of the day, unless he was heading out for classes or practice, and he scarcely attended parties unless Sig Tau hosted them. He was a ghost, moving quietly from room to room, leaving things undisturbed and puck bunnies ignored, unlike the rest of the guys.

But his reclusiveness hadn't become the object of Garrett's puzzlement. No, he understood the desire to keep to oneself pretty well, especially with so much spotlight and pressure riding on their shoulders.

Some of his most relaxed moments were spent lying in bed with his earbuds in and letting the music guide him into a brief moment of calm where he could forget about everything riding on his shoulders and pretend not to notice his father's insistent calls.

What puzzled him was the fact that he couldn't get the damn guy off his mind.

Each time his ears picked up the soft creak of weight on the floorboards, his head would tilt up and away from the television screen, his eyes locking on the staircase's landing with his thoughts drifting to (Y/N).

Sometimes, he'd eat his breakfast slowly, waiting for (Y/N) to descend the stairs with sleep weighing his eyelids. Other times, his eyes would part while kissing a puck bunny on the couch, searching for that familiar face in a party.

In the locker rooms, when the air would be heavy with exhaustion or electric with anticipation, his attention would roam around the room to search for (Y/N), tracking him while he walked around or fiddled with his gear.

Garrett had managed to memorize the routine (Y/N) had for gearing up and getting undressed, which spot on the benches he preferred, and the little pre-practice habits he had, like tapping his stick three times between his feet.

He realized quickly that (Y/N)'s face would often be slack with neutrality, his lips in a relaxed line and his eyes faintly lidded, as if he were drowsy. His smiles were always lazy, polite enough, and he barely uttered words in the locker room.

He often nodded along to whatever Birdie said to him, his brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed like he was caught between paying genuine attention or not. 

Garrett found it amusing, watching (Y/N)'s attempts at being polite, at being a good, active listener for his teammates, who were more often than not bragging about which girl they'd slept with or laughing about whatever dumb shenanigans they'd been up to the day prior that would have their coach scowling with disapproval.

He tried, to his credit, but he'd blink a couple times after the conversations ended as if asking himself what the hell that was about.

Dean always elicited the most confusion from (Y/N), but that was just Dean being Dean. Garrett liked the furrowed-brow, slightly pouty bottom lip look that came over (Y/N)'s face whenever he was baffled by his teammates. He wondered how many times a week (Y/N) regretted joining Sig Tau.

He suspected (Y/N) regretted it then, while he stood in the kitchen, attempting to grab a beer can from beneath the curtain of dirty blonde hair belonging to some girl Dean had propped up on the counter to make out with. 

The corner of Garrett's lip quirked at (Y/N)'s fifth attempt at reaching for the can he desired, and then bit back a chuckle when he finally wrapped his fingers around the girl's hair and lifted it for a moment.

The girl laughed out her apology, hardly apologetic at all, given the grin on her face, but (Y/N) shrugged her off, his annoyance at the inconvenience brief. Though much to Garrett's amusement, he took a moment to grab the hem of his shirt and wipe the top of the can where her hair strands had brushed over.

The crack and hiss of the can opening were lost in the mixture of overlapping conversations and "Collard Greens" playing from the speakers. (Y/N) disappeared into the backyard, the back door closing behind him gently. 

Garrett's attention darted back to the pretty girl in front of him (Molly? Dolly? Polly? Something like that, he was sure), and he offered her a closed-lip smile, trying to focus on the dimples that appeared when she smiled and the coy graze of her knee against his. Her mouth moved, but Garrett's ears refused to listen to a word she spoke. 

"Uhm," He cleared his throat and pushed himself off the edge of the dining table, setting the shiny plastic red cup down. "You're great-" Shit, what was her name? "-but I have to go talk to one of the guys about tomorrow's practice. Rain check?"

Light brown brows lifted, but her red-tinted lips curled upward understandingly. "Ah, Captain Graham reporting for duty, I see." She flicked some hair over her shoulder and nodded, taking a step out of his way. "We can pick this up later."

"Great."

Garrett's feet led him to the back door before he could come up with a good enough excuse as to what actually prompted him to follow (Y/N) outside.

The door rattled shut behind him, and he took a quick survey of the backyard, finding it surprisingly empty aside from (Y/N), who sat sprawled out over a lawn chair with the can hanging loosely from his fingertips.

"Hey." Garrett greeted, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. (Y/N)'s eyes slid open, and his head tilted backward to peer up at him. The warm back porch light illuminated his face in a golden glow. "You okay? You've been... tired lately. You're doing great in practice, but we need you-"

"I'm fine, Graham," (Y/N) sighed out, the soles of his sneakers pressing into the ground to push himself up a little straighter. "Insomnia's a bitch, but I know how to deal with it."

"Oh." Duh. Garrett almost rolled his eyes at himself. "Anything we can do to help? I can tell Dean to keep it down when he has girls over. Sharing a wall with him has to be..." Garrett trailed off with a crinkle of his nose. He'd rather lose his mind than lose sleep having to listen to Dean with his catch of the night.

(Y/N) chuckled, his fingers brushing over his forehead. "I actually don't hear much most of the time. I'm just glad I never learned how to unclog a drain. Dunno how I'd feel about fishing out condoms."

His head shook lightly, and the memory of Logan's lecturing flashed in Garrett's brain. His exasperated words always fell on deaf ears. They all knew it would happen again... and again... and again.

"Yeah," Garrett laughed, raising his hand to dig his fingertips into the back of his neck, soothing the tension there. "Logan's not happy about it, I'll tell you that much."

Garrett lowered himself onto the lawn chair beside (Y/N)'s, repressing a shudder when the night's chill curled around his collarbones. He attempted to keep his head trained forward, to focus on the foliage wrapped around the fence and the gym equipment that'd been left out on the grass, but his head eventually turned to gaze at (Y/N). 

His eyes were still open, but they were directed downward toward his lap, contemplating. The tip of his tongue poked out, dragging over his lips, leaving a wet gleam behind. Garrett stared at his lips. They looked soft, the skin slightly split from gentle, repetitive nipping.

The overwhelming urge to drag his thumb across them was startling.

"I guess..." (Y/N) began with another sigh, his head lolling to the side. "I'm a little down, maybe. I, uh... My boyfriend and I broke up before I transferred. Long-distance wouldn't work for us. I was willing to give it a try, but he was firm about it. I think I miss sleeping next to someone."

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend?

"You're..." Garrett trailed off again, not wanting to assume, not wanting to offend, not wanting to look as if he'd forgotten that was an option.

Gay? Bisexual? Pansexual? There were so many labels, so many terms. He'd never really stopped to consider them. He'd always observed the community from afar, from what he perceived as a respectful distance. 

(Y/N) looked at him, his eyes slightly crinkled and his lips up in a little, close-lipped smile. Garrett probably looked like a fool, sitting there with his mouth agape, the words caught in his throat. 

"That's- That's not a problem."

Of course, there were hockey players in the community. There were queer men everywhere, in every sport, in every position. He'd just... hadn't given it much thought before, the possibility of being queer and in hockey. Everywhere he looked, he'd spot one of his teammates locking lips with some pretty girl or blushing at the prospect of talking to a puck bunny.

Embarrassed heat crept up his neck. Maybe he hadn't been paying good enough attention to the people around him. 

"I don't care, really, and none of the guys do either," Garrett reassured him, despite the lack of need to do so.

After Jules came out, Logan made himself and his protective stance on the community clear. If someone had something negative to think or say, they kept that shit to themselves.

"If anyone gives you shit, you tell me, and I'll handle it, yeah?"

"Uh-huh. I can take care of myself, Graham. I'm not a little kid who needs defending." (Y/N)'s laugh was light, gentle, a hint teasing. The heat worsened, and something coiled in Garrett's gut. His fingers felt jittery. "I know how to throw a punch."

"Still." Garrett insisted, his shrug tight and rigid. It was irritating how easily his body betrayed him, as if he'd never spoken to another person in his life before. He'd made out with Kendall just a couple of hours prior without issue. "I'm your captain. It's what captains do."

"Mm."

Silence.

Garrett made himself look away, made himself stare down at the blades of grass near their feet. Truthfully, hockey had consumed so much of his day-to-day life that the idea of exploring never crossed his mind. He always had something on his plate, something taking up his time and attention.

The rare times he was free, he spent them trying to ease away the tightness that never left his chest.

Sex was easy to get with a face and reputation like his, so those needs were always met, but... what if he liked more than girls? He considered the guys, but they were his bros.

They were all attractive and with distinct qualities that made them each unique; anyone with working eyes could see that, but attraction hardly bubbled in his stomach when he thought about them.

"How did you... know?" Garrett asked, his voice growing quieter, the rest of his body tensing. Newfound territory that he felt queasy about entering. His father would surely freak if he ever caught wind of his words, of his newfound curiosity. "Did you, uhm, always know? Or..."

"It crept up on me, I think. There are a lot of expectations with hockey, and it's so time-consuming that I only realized I wasn't as excited about chicks like the rest of my teammates in high school."

(Y/N)'s head tilted backward to gaze up at the drifting clouds that briefly blocked the moonlight. Garrett's eyes trailed away from the side of his face, down to his neck. He considered what it'd be like to lean in and brush his nose over his neck, to take in a deep breath. (Y/N) always smelled nice, clean and fresh. 

"Girls are great, don't get me wrong. Most of the time, I get along better with them than guys, and they make better friends than dudes do. But.. I don't know. I never felt butterflies for them. I've never looked at one and wondered what it'd be like to date her or- or sleep with her. I've never daydreamed or been excited over spending one-on-one time with one, either."

Garrett tugged his hand free from his pocket to rake his fingers through his hair. He definitely liked women. He liked kissing pillowy lips and brushing his fingers through soft, conditioned hair. He hardly minded the smell of perfume or the feeling of nails scratching his shoulders. He liked breasts and curves and delicate faces.

(Y/N) had strong legs that propelled him through the ice and strong arms that swung hockey sticks with enough power to do serious damage if the puck hit someone.

Garrett still admired him the way he'd admire Kendall or some other beautiful girl. Maybe he was his exception. 

"But.. you do with guys?" Garrett's brows raised slightly. 

"Yeah." (Y/N) nodded, his teeth finally showing with his following smile. It was somber, nostalgic. Garrett assumed the break-up had hit pretty hard. "But, contrary to what a lot of guys think, I'm not automatically interested just because I'm gay. I have standards, and a lot of these knuckleheads fail to meet those standards."

"Dean will be disappointed," Garrett said, hoping his voice sounded amused, that his tone sounded light-hearted. His thoughts were muddled. "He thinks he's hot shit." 

"Dean's nice to look at, but.." (Y/N)'s nose scrunched up playfully, a little chuckle escaping his lips. Garrett smiled at the sound. "I've never dug blonds." 

"Yeah?" Garrett's eyes darted upward to meet his gaze again. His breath nearly caught in his throat. "What do you like?" 

(Y/N)'s signature smile, the lazy one, greeted him. His brow lifted, one finger tapping on the side of the can. "Why do you want to know?" He asked, lifting the can to his lips and taking an audible sip. He licked his lips again afterward and propped the can on his thigh, his knee swaying from side to side.

"Just curious."

(Y/N) hummed, drawn out and slow. With an air of mystery and a smile like his, he probably knew all about other guys 'curiosity' and the dance that came with it.

"I make you curious?" He took another swing of the can, his jaw shifting slightly while he poured the drink into his mouth before crushing it in his hand.

Garrett grinned, and he felt some of his usual suave confidence return. "A little." He confirmed, propping his elbow on the armrest and leaning forward, his eyes flickering between (Y/N)'s. "Do I make you curious?"

A breathless laugh, and the start of an eye-roll. "I don't know," (Y/N) admitted, and Garrett tried to keep his shoulders from slumping.

He knew most girls liked him, or at least thought he was handsome. He, like Dean, considered himself everyone's type, but he hadn't considered that some guys probably preferred more feminine dudes.

Garrett was tall and broad, with defined arms and a hard stomach he worked hard to keep. He lacked curves and daintiness. He was the opposite of petite and cute.

(Y/N) pushed himself up from the lawn chair with a quiet grunt and tossed the can into the nearby garbage can that needed to be dragged out to the end of the driveway.

"I thought you were as straight as they come." He told Garrett with a lopsided shrug. Garrett had thought so, too. "If you want to mess around... see if you're into guys or not.. I don't mind."

The chair scraped against the pavement when Garrett stood up, his brows raised and his lips parted with surprise. "Really? You'd want to?"

"Why not?"

Garrett only realized then that he'd never set foot in (Y/N)'s bedroom after he moved in. The door was always shut, unlike Dean's, which remained open nearly 24/7, regardless of whether or not he was in bed with someone.

The place was tidy, thankfully clean, with a couple of textbooks scattered over the desk tucked against the wall.

Garrett nudged the door shut with the heel of his shoe and turned the lock, the noise sounding surprisingly loud despite the party continuing on downstairs. (Y/N) glanced over his shoulder at the sound of it, and a sheepish chuckle slipped out from Garrett.

His fingers curled around the hem of his Briar U hoodie, which he tugged up and over his head, a few black curls tumbling over his forehead that he brushed back. 

"You've never been with a guy before, right?" (Y/N) questioned, slipping his phone out of his pocket and setting it on the nightstand.

He kicked his sneakers off and faced him, bending down slightly to tug the nightstand drawer open. Garrett nodded. Not even a drunken kiss.

"It's not rocket science."

"Oh, really? I was hoping to get some nuclear launch codes while I was here."

Garrett flashed a grin, and (Y/N) rolled his eyes, his mouth pulling into a small smile. Despite his easy-going words, nerves manifested into a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He felt like a virgin again: excited by the prospect of getting laid, but anxious about fucking it all up and embarrassing himself. 

(Y/N) set a bottle of lube on the nightstand that he'd taken out of the drawer. Something bitter like envy dug its teeth into Garrett's throat when he noticed he was a used bottle. (Y/N) stayed out of their way so much that it was hard to tell when he had company over, if he ever did.

Garrett was certain there were plenty of guys who quietly considered themselves puck bunnies, too. He swallowed down bitterness, bitterness that he hoped was brief, and he reached down to undo his shoe laces.

"What're you comfortable with, Graham?"

(Y/N) approached him, the palm of his hand dragging over Garrett's shoulder, his fingers gingerly massaging his clothed skin. It slid down to his bicep when Garrett straightened up again, his feet easily sliding out of his sneakers.

"Some guys are comfortable with starting with the little things first."

Garrett swallowed. "Well, I've never been pegged before, so..." He trailed off, his lips twitching upward, the humor helping with his stuttering heartbeat. "Maybe.. we try that another time? If that's good with you. I don't know. You're the expert here." (Y/N) snorted. Garrett winced. "Sorry. That was- That was dumb."

"I'm good with anything," (Y/N) replied, his palms cupping the sides of Garrett's neck, calloused fingers rubbing pleasantly over his skin. His eyes were inquisitive, warm with comfort. Garrett allowed himself to relax, to breathe. He felt lighter around him. "Kissing okay?"

"Definitely."

(Y/N) tasted like the mildly sweet beer he'd been drinking, the flavor clinging to his tongue when it brushed against Garrett's and sending a chill down Garrett's spine.

His hands settled over (Y/N)'s hips, squeezing and bringing him closer, knocking their hips together. His arms curled around him, one of his hands slipping beneath his shirt to grope along his back, pleased to feel his muscles flexing.

A groan vibrated in Garrett's chest when (Y/N) fisted some of his curls, the tug gentle enough to avoid pain, but the act sent heat spiraling down to Garrett's lower belly. Instinctively, he pulled his hand out from (Y/N)'s shirt and brought it down over his jeans, groping at his clothed ass next.

His chest tightened, but before he could take his hand away and apologize for potentially overstepping, (Y/N) laughed against his mouth and soothed the worries. Sighing softly with relief, Garrett mouthed at (Y/N)'s jawline, his arms releasing him so he could fiddle with both their jeans, popping the buttons and tugging at the zippers. 

(Y/N)'s hands bunched up Garrett's shirt, and he took a few steps back, dragging Garrett along with him until he bumped against the end of his bed. He turned them around and lightly shoved Garrett back onto the bed, pulling the shirt off him and tossing it aside blindly.

The bed groaned beneath the sudden weight, and then again when Garrett leaned back on his elbows, his hips raising off the mattress to help (Y/N) peel his jeans and briefs off. 

Garrett's breathing grew heavier with anticipation, sweat already beginning to gather along his temple and back. (Y/N) lowered himself down onto his knees, his hands gripping Garrett's calves to drag him a little over the bed's edge. He flushed. It was rare for him to be the one manhandled.

"Oh, fuck." Garrett hissed when wet warmth engulfed the tip of his cock, and his thighs tensed, toes curling within his socks.

(Y/N)'s eyes fluttered shut, his features relaxed and content, as if he were suckling on a popsicle on a warm summer day rather than swallowing his captain's cock in his bedroom.

Garrett's head dropped back, his mouth parted with grunts and deep sighs, his hands in fists because he felt unsure of what to do with them when it came to (Y/N).

A low noise came from deep within his chest when (Y/N) wrapped his fingers around him to stroke him, a subtle wet noise reaching Garrett's ears from the saliva coating him. Garrett's nostrils flared, his brows tightening into a furrow once (Y/N) wrapped his wet lips around one of his balls, his tongue massaging it with the finesse of someone who'd done it plenty times before.

His ex was a fucking dumbass.

With his other hand, (Y/N) continued massaging and toying with his balls, rolling them between his fingers. He touched Garrett with casual curiosity. A lot of his hook-ups often felt like a performance from the other party, a desire to impress.

(Y/N) seemed more focused on discovering which buttons existed and which ones elicited better responses. Less of an act, more of an experiment.

"You want to try something?" (Y/N) asked him abruptly, his tongue flicking over the dribbling tip of Garrett's cock. 

Garrett's abdomen tensed, and he sucked in a breath, swimming through the pleasure flooding his body in order to reply. "Sure."

"Pass the lube."

Blindly, Garrett reached toward the nightstand, patting around until his fingers bumped against the bottle and he handed it over. He looked down at (Y/N) through his bleary vision, blinking until it focused again. He wet his lips nervously, swallowing thickly as he watched (Y/N) squirt some lube onto his fingers. 

"If you don't like it, we can stop, yeah?" Garrett nodded, but (Y/N) only raised his brows at him. "Use your words."

Garrett almost laughed. He'd uttered that exact sentence many times before, and he finally understood why girls always blushed. The butterflies fluttering around his stomach made him lightheaded. "Yeah, yeah, we- we can stop. I'll- I'll let you know."

Satisfied with his response, (Y/N) nudged Garrett's knees upward, and Garrett reached down to grasp the back of his thighs. His back pressed flat against the mattress, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling, his breathing picking up.

His idea of masturbation had always been jerking off. Fingering himself never came to him as an option. Would it feel strange?

"Relax, Garrett," (Y/N) cooed, and heat pinched Garrett's cheeks. He liked the way his name rolled off (Y/N)'s tongue when it was spoken so softly, so reassuringly. "Deep breaths."

Garrett took a deep breath and melted into the mattress, but the relaxation proved short-lived when a slick finger pressed against his entrance. His teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and he concentrated again, breathing in and out. Slowly.

Relax. Relax. Re- Jesus Christ. 

"Oh-"

Garrett's heart leapt to his throat at the feeling. It was... weird, and his body fought the confusing intrusion. It was hardly unpleasant, but not immensely pleasurable, either... until (Y/N) curled his finger, and Garrett nearly shouted, his body almost curling into itself at the shock of pleasure that went through his body.

(Y/N) continued to prod at what Garrett deduced was his prostate, and fuck.. Garrett's mouth fell open, quiet moans flowing from it in a broken song, his whole body tensing and relaxing, unable to settle on what to do. His mind blanked into nothing but white noise.

Each time (Y/N) brushed over that bundle of nerves, his body jerked, and it took everything in his being not to let out noises that would surely attract attention. 

He could only imagine what it'd be like to have something bigger, heavier, hitting that spot over and over again.

Without warning, Garrett's hips buckled, and warm spurts of come splattered over his stomach and chest, coating his skin in pearly white. Heat flooded his face, and he released his grip on the back of his thighs.

"I can last longer." He exhaled quickly, embarrassed, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position after (Y/N) slid out. He almost missed the feeling. "I swear."

"It's fine."

(Y/N) laughed and stood up, ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. His bulge was evident against his briefs, and Garrett reached down to slowly drag them down his legs. His cock sprang up once released, and Garrett took another deep breath, tracing it down to the hairs at the base.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," Garrett assured him.

How hard could it be?

Gently, Garrett wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing lightly, curiously. (Y/N)'s hand settled over the top of his head, running his fingers through the loose curls and scratching his short, blunt nails against his scalp. Garrett hummed pleasantly, and he leaned in, wrapping his mouth around the tip.

(Y/N)'s hips drew back, leaving a string of saliva connecting his cock to Garrett's lips, and Garrett looked up at him questioningly. "I don't think you like it," (Y/N) said, reaching down to pick up the bottle of lube from the floor before he straddled Garrett's hips.

Another feeling that he found himself unable to describe. Unsurprisingly, dicks tasted like skin and faintly of sweat. Nothing otherworldly about it, but the heaviness on his tongue was nice.

He suckled a bit, ran his tongue over grooves, and while (Y/N)'s quiet noises had him hardening again, he couldn't find what made some people go crazy over blowing someone.

"It's not... I don't know."

Garrett's hands roamed over (Y/N)'s thighs until they reached his ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing. (Y/N) rolled his hips in response, grinding their wet cocks together slowly. Garrett shivered, goosebumps rising over his arms.

"I can try again-"

"It's okay, Garrett." (Y/N) kissed the corner of his mouth and giggled when Garrett chased after his lips for a proper kiss. "There are things you'll like, and things you won't be into. Not everyone likes giving blowjobs. That's fine." 

Licking his lips, Garrett took the bottle from (Y/N) and coated his own fingers in the lube. He spread (Y/N) with one hand and reached around, messily rubbing his fingers over (Y/N)'s hole with the determined desire to pleasure him.

(Y/N)'s lips stretched out into a grin, and he pressed his body against Garrett's, pining their cocks together as he began to roll and grind against him.

They sighed and moaned against each other's mouths, and Garrett soaked up the sight of (Y/N)'s back faintly arching when he pushed his finger past the rim of his slicked-up hole.

He was warm and tight, and Garrett's head reeled as he thought about how it'd feel to sink into him. Garrett leaned in, attacking (Y/N)'s throat with wet kisses and nips, half-tempted to cover him in hickies that'd take ages to fade.

"Garrett..." 

The soft moan prompted him to add a second finger, confident that (Y/N) would take it with ease, and he picked up the pace until the wet noise was downright pornographic. Each slow roll of his hips was teasing, meant to drive him wild with each little wave of pleasure, and it worked perfectly.

Needy desire clouded Garrett's mind within seconds.

"Fuck." He hissed, whipping his head around toward the nightstand and reaching for the condoms stored inside. 

(Y/N) gave a quiet, almost purposeful whine when Garrett slipped his fingers out, and then giggled breathily once he noticed Garrett fumbling with the condom. With an irritable huff, Garrett brought the plastic wrapping to his lips and tore it open with his teeth, tossing it aside and rolling the condom over himself. 

(Y/N) planted his palms over Garrett's pecs and shoved him back down onto the mattress, lifting himself over Garrett's hips and reaching between them to grip Garrett while he added some more lube. A gasp ripped from Garrett's chest when (Y/N) lowered himself onto him with ease, his head rolling back as Garrett sank into him. 

Without waiting for Garrett to gather his bearings, (Y/N) began riding him. It was a mixture of grinding down on him until his ass was flush against Garrett's hips, and digging his knees into the mattress to lift himself up and down.

He picked up the pace, and Garrett's fingers dug into his thighs hard enough to bruise, more than happy to lie back and let (Y/N) use him however he pleased. 

The heat canvassing his body was unbearable, and there was sweat on every inch of his body. He fought to keep his mind from fleeing him, from embarrassing himself again.

Garrett Graham could go for at least an hour or two, he could last long enough for his partner to have two or three orgasms, and he refused to let his reputation be ruined.

But then (Y/N)'s hand trailed down, squeezing his chest and running his fingers over Garrett's hardened nipple, a touch that felt electric. Garrett groaned, low and vibrating, his head digging back into the mattress.

His curls stuck to his temples and forehead, and his heels dug into the edge of the mattress, half-heartedly attempting to thrust up to regain some control.

"Your ex is so fucking stupid." Garrett blurted out through heavy pants, and despite his barely contained keens and whines, (Y/N) laughed heartily. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you. Fuck him. You don't need him."

(Y/N) leaned down to press their mouths together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss full of saliva, both of his hands tangling themselves in Garrett's hair.

He stilled, and Garrett readjusted his footing on the bed, one arm curling around (Y/N)'s waist to keep him still before he began thrusting up into him. (Y/N) cursed sharply, nearly digging his teeth into Garrett's bottom lip. 

"C'mon, Cap." (Y/N) clung to Garrett's shoulders, his eyes bright and pupils wide. "Prove it. Prove it."

Garrett pushed himself with his elbows and rolled them over, pinning (Y/N)'s body down against the mattress and hiking one leg up, half-determined to fuck (Y/N) through the bed.

The sound of sweaty skin slapping together was obscene and loud, thankfully drowned out by the people downstairs drunkenly screaming the lyrics to "Trap Queen" without a care in the world.

(Y/N) clenched around him, tight like a vice, his body arching into Garrett as he coated both their stomachs with his release. Garrett wrapped around him, holding him through it, babbling barely thought-out praises before he groaned into his shoulder with his own second release.

He managed to reluctantly pull out and rid himself of the soiled condom, tossing it into the nearby trash can before he collapsed atop (Y/N).

His cheek pressed against (Y/N)'s chest, his eyes half-lidded and brain fuzzy with contentment. (Y/N) toyed with his hair, twirling a curl around his finger while he caught his breath, his heart thumping against Garrett's cheek.

They were sweaty and dirty, but there were only three bathrooms in the house, and Garrett's bedroom was the only one with a connecting bathroom.

Garrett had rules with the people he slept with, boundaries he refused to let be crossed. At the top of the list of rules? No sleepovers. But his body was wrung out, and (Y/N)'s chest made the perfect pillow.

"We should-" He cut himself off with a yawn. "Wait for the party to end."

"Mhm." (Y/N)'s other hand ran up and down Garrett's spine. "Well... think you know whether you're straight or not?"

"I don't know... I think I'll need to check again later. Just to be sure." Garrett lifted his head with a cheeky grin and pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s collarbone, feeling the vibrations of his tired chuckle. "What do you think?"

It felt sort of odd as you shifted in the passenger seat.

Glancing to Johnny you see his face also twisted up and see the start of his sweating. Shifting a bit like how you were. It wasnt till your stomach made a weird gargle did you finally speak.

"Y-You know... Maybe we should just head to the flat?"

He nodded quickly, making a fast turn towards the flat. Dead silent but you saw his face twist slightly.

The drive felt painfully long for some reason, even tho it was a rather short ride especially compared to the hotel. You swallowed back what felt like a burp you didnt trust.

"Johnny.. Imma be so serious right now.. I feel like Im either gonna shit myself or puke- or both"

"Same here Lovie.."

Johnny was sweating bullets and you were hunched forward in the passenger seat.

You felt like your stomach was making beats for Kendrick at this point.

"Who takes the guest loo and who takes the hallway one?"

"You have longer strides then me.."

"Guest it is.."

"Alright.."

Pulling into the garage the two of you focused- Johnny pulling out the house key as the two of you knew you had to sprint.

The second the car door opened you guys ran to action. Slamming the car door shut as Johnny ran like he was on a mission, you hot on his heels as he managed to open the front door in one smooth motion and run as he yelled out quite literally holding his ass.

"Fuckin pitchin like a crab got my arse!!"

You slamming the door shut as you almost scream and bolt to the nearest bathroom.

That night the echoing sounds of Johnny in the Guest Bathroom were sure to be used in a horror movie and you no better.

You had never prayed in a bathroom before that night.

But you sat there begging for someone to hear your prayers of mercy. Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Fucking Cthulhu- Hell you'd take a Fucking Magical Golden Dicked Leprechaun if it ment this would stop.

You heard Johnny yell so loudly from down the way to were it echoed-

"Its like I shat out a pineapple!!"

It wasnt till 3am that you managed to stop, mostly due to nothing being left.. now laid in the empty bathtub half stripped of your nice outfit and shoes on the floor.

You were dead silent, not having the will to move from your spot in the tub.

There you hear a slow shuffle..

Johnny walked in- only in socks, an open button up and boxers.. Not the ones you remember him putting on before dinner.

You assumed the ones he had before had been sacrificed to whatever evil spirit from the Thai resturant.

Equally drained as you it seemed as he slowly slid to the floor with a slight wince when he sat next to the tub where you were. Handing you a bottle of water which you took baby sips of as he did with his own.

The silence wrapped around you two as you nursed your water together..

"This is the worse anniversary ever..."

You finally said, Breaking the silence. Johnny slowly nodding.

"Yeah- It really is.."

...

"Least we wont forget it"

"Guess not, Be one hell of a story about how we spent our anniversary on the loo"

There the two of you bursted out into giggles then full blown laughter.

liked by charles_leclerc, f1, scuderiaferrari, and others tagged: lewishamilton

vogue lewis hamilton stuns at the met gala.

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scuderiaferrari that's our 7-time wdc driver right there 😮‍💨 ⤷ userone 8-time***

charles_leclerc looking great lh! ❤️ ⤷ usertwo i'm crying please put the gay away charles ⤷ userthree let my man gay out on the tl 💔

userfour if he's not voted best dressed i don't care to see the list ⤷ userfive he's the first person on the carpet 😭😭 ??? you haven't even seen all of the other outfits ⤷ userfour yeah but it's lewis hamilton so does that really matter? ⤷ userfive you know...you got a point there

usersix good golly gee i really do love this man ⤷ userseven GOLLY GEE 😭😭???? ⤷ usereight IM CRYING GOLLY GEE ⤷ usernine HOW OLD ARE YOU LMFAOOOO

userten when is y/n pulling up?? ⤷ usereleven was he even invited? ⤷ userten man do i hope so. that man is the most gorgeous man i've ever laid my eyes on, apart from lewis hamilton.

liked by f1, bradpitt, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: yourusername

vogue y/n l/n stuns at the met gala.

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usertwelve OH WOW YEAH HE ATE THAT UP

userthirteen did you see him roll up in a fucking f1 car???? like the pr for this movie is actually insane ⤷ userfourteen wicked might have a contender for most insane movie pr ⤷ userfifteen nah i saw wicked mac n cheese, who needs wicked shaped mac n cheese ⤷ usersixteen don't even get me started on the wicked alcohol. promoting drinking to a primarily underage audience? i support her, but this isn't okay ⤷ userthirteen i'm 22 and i'm SCARED

userseventeen god this man is FOINEEEEE

usereighteen put me, y/n l/n, and lewis hamilton in a room and we won't be leaving for hours. and when we do, it won't be pretty. ⤷ usernineteen whats it finna play...WOAH

usertwenty god i love y/n l/n. i'm glad that he's finally getting the recognition he deserves!!

"HAD QUITE AN ENTRANCE THERE," an interviewer laughed as y/n l/n walked up to him with a smile. The interviewer had a VOGUE branded microphone, and he was dressed well for the gala as well, but he was just in a black tux.

Y/n laughed, “Yeah well, when PR tells you to do a fun entrance in a Formula 1 car, you have to accept.” He was taller than the interviewer, so y/n bent his neck and lowered his head so he could hear him talk.

“And I would’ve as well,” he laughed. “So, y/n, tell me about this suit,” the interviewer stepped back a step and the camera panned down to scroll up and over the red suit that y/n wore.

With a pointed finger, y/n gestured to all of the small details in his outfit that not only meant a lot to him, but also referenced the theme of this years gala—Black Dandyism. It was a beautiful style and y/n remembers the excitement that coursed through him when he heard that he’d been invited this year.

“It’s just a beautiful theme and a beautiful suit, as well,” the interviewer smiled up at y/n. “But, I must ask, since you arrived quite early, whose outfit are you most excited to see tonight?”

“I’ve already seen my favorite, and the one I was most excited for,” y/n turned around and his eyes immediately caught onto Lewis Hamilton’s figure, clad in the beautifully made cream suit. “Lewis Hamilton is by far one of the best dressed ones here outside of the MET, so I was really excited to see what he cooked up with Louis Vuitton.”

As if Lewis heard him, he turned towards y/n. A smile broke out on his face as his eyes caught onto y/n’s.

The world fell away from the two—the camera flashes turned into shining stars as the blue carpet, walls, and ceiling turned into the night sky. It was very much La La Land-esk as everything around them faded away and they ended up in space.

Y/n smiled and his eyes softened at Lewis, which caused the man to start to walk over to the interview. That cut off their quick connection, and Lewis let a hand rest on y/n’s waist when he came up beside him.

“I heard my name, handsome?” Lewis grinned and nodded at the interviewer as he spared a glance over at y/n.

The height difference was quite comedic and noticeable—there was no way that Twitter (or X if you’re with the times) wasn’t already freaking out over the movie star and F1 driver being so close together again. When the F1 movie was still filming, and Lewis Hamilton was on the set, helping the actors perfect what being in an F1 car was actually like, there were pictures that went around of y/n and Lewis being quite close—much like they are now.

The interviewer raised an eyebrow.

Y/n laughed and shook his head, “You are so annoying, Lew.” Yet, y/n slid a hand behind Lewis and let it fall on the small of his back. At this, Lewis let his hand drop and it raised up to his stomach, stepping back into his favorite pose—the one Twitter lovingly called his ‘pregnant mom pose’.

The shift was seamless, and honestly hard to notice. It was like it was second nature to the duo, and had been done before.

“You two are quite close, no?” The interviewer asked, but he backtracked when he realized that question could be taken the wrong way. “Like on the F1 movie set, pictures went around of you two standing close to each other, and then now, y/n, you have your arm on Lewis’s waist. Is there a story to that?”

Y/n and Lewis glanced at each other and laughed quietly. “Movie sets are where the magic happens, right?” Y/n asked with a smile.

The interviewer went to say more, but representatives for both Lewis and y/n pushed them away, hurling apologies towards the interviewer, but he didn’t care all that much. Vogue just got a story and a beautiful piece idea.

“OH, FUCK,” y/n laughed as he tripped over his own shoe. He looked behind him and, not so, gracefully stepped over the other shoes on the hotel room floor that were in his path. “Jesus, Lew, how many shoes do you have?” He stepped on a black shoe, one with a taller hell than the others.

Lewis laughed as he pushed y/n out of his way so he could walk into the hotel room, the door shutting closed behind them. They shut the world out behind them, leaving just the two of them in the hotel room, only the two of them in on their secret.

"I have enough," Lewis smiled as he started to pull off the black outfit that he had put on for the MET afterparty that he dragged y/n to. "You just have one pair, and that's crazy to me," Lewis tsk'd and shook his head as he glanced over at y/n, who was now laying on the bed on his back. His right arm covered his eyes and his chest rose slowly.

Pausing what he was doing, Lewis walked up to the bed and pulled on y/n arms, causing a whine to escape y/n's throat.

"Nope, come on, love," Lewis hummed as he pulled y/n up so he was sitting up on the bed. His eyes remained closed and his posture was bent like a candy cane as he swayed, threatening to fall back onto the bed again. "You can't sleep in this beautiful suit, you need to change out of it," Lewis's voice was soft as he started to help y/n out of his red suit.

As the jacket started to slide off his arms, y/n opened his eyes and looked up at Lewis, which wasn't a common thing for him, seeing as he was taller than Lewis despite being younger.

"Hmm," y/n hummed as he started to help Lewis slowly take off his suit. Soon enough, y/n was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas, which consisted of a comedic t-shirt with Lewis's face all over it and a pair of sweatshorts.

Lewis walked into the bathroom, but came back just as quick. He held something in his hand, something small but held years of history. He gestured for y/n to hand him his left hand.

"Here you go, Mr. Hamilton," Lewis chuckled as he slid on the ring onto y/n's left ring finger. It was a simple band―gold with small diamonds littered about, but the inside had their wedding date engraved, along with LH. Lewis slid on his own ring, which was similar to y/n's, but his was silver and had Y/I on the inside instead.

"Thank you, Mr. L/n," y/n hummed and he pulled Lewis down into a kiss, a soft and loving one that had both of them sighing.

Their fingers were heavy with their rings, heavy with responsibility and love.

Before they went to sleep that night, they faced each other in bed. Lewis's eyes traveled over y/n's face. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, the time blinking back at him in red.

12:00.

"Happy anniversary, lover," Lewis hummed and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on y/n's mouth.

"Happy anniversary, Lew."

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, yourusername, and others tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton happy 3 years, lover.

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📌 pinned comment! youruser easiest yes i've ever said. happy three years ❤️ ⤷ lewishamilton i love you, mr. hamilton. ⤷ yourusername i love you more, mr. l/n.

charles_leclerc so proud of you two! worst secret i've ever had to keep, glad you trusted me with it for the past 3 years ❤️ ⤷ lewishamilton glad we could trust you with it, charles.

usertwentyone WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

usertwentytwo WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHATS IS FINNA PLAY WOAHHHH HELLO WHATS GOING ON

usertwentythree HWUAHFOAISJEFOIAJSF WHATISHOFIJ MY GOAT IS GAY ????/??????????///????????

georgerussell glad nobody in the comments overreacted...so proud of you two! we miss you in the mercedes garage, y/n 💔 ⤷ yourusername might have to pay toto wolff a little visit...miss you guys as well. thank you so much, george ❤️ ⤷ lewishamilton moving past that...thank you much george.

scuderiaferrari our royal wedding 🥺🥺 ⤷ yourusername love you so much ferrari admin ❤️

usertwentyfour I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO RESPOND TO THIS WHAT IS GOING ON GUYS IS IT APRIL FOOLS TOGAY IM SO CUFING CONFUSED HELP ⤷ usertwentyfive GIRL IM WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

usertwentysix OAIWEJOAFNCSDKCN LEWIS FUCKIG HAMILTON IS FUCKING Y/N L/N ⤷ yourusername who said that? ⤷ lewishamilton babe. ⤷ usertwentysix WHAT THE FUCKIS MY FUCKING LIFE

liked by georgerussell, nicorosberg, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername this may come as a shock to some of you, but i am a married man (and have been for 3 years)! 5 years ago, i met lewis hamilton at the silverstone grandprix, and fell in love. 2 years later, he asked me to marry him, and here we are 3 years later sharing it with the world.

we were hesitant to share our love at first, seeing as formula 1 is a very toxic masculinity fueled sport, but we're tired of hiding our wedding rings and not being able to talk about each other in interviews.

happy three years, mr. l/n. here's to many more 🥂!!

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📌 pinned comment! lewishamilton it was love at first sight, love. ⤷ yourusername ah you make me blush, lover man.

charles_leclerc ferrari signed two hamilton's this year. love having you in the garage, y/n! you two are too cute for me to handle. ⤷ yourusername omfg charles i love you so much. you are so cute, my little child. ⤷ charles_leclerc child????? ⤷ yourusername surprise you're my child now

usertwentyseven HOLY FUCKING SHIT I LOVE YOU TWO SO MUCH YOU'RE A SUCH A BIG INSPIRATION WOWWW THE 7 TIME WDC GOAT IS GAY CUT THE CHECK REPUBLICANS ⤷ usertwentyeight CUT! THE! FUCKING! CHECK!

usertwentynine WOWWWWWWW THIS WAS NOT ON MY 2025 BINGO CARDDD

georgerussell insanely proud of you two (like i said before)! love the both of you two papa y papa ⤷ yourusername you had to make it weird. thank you george, we love you too.

scuderiaferrari does this mean 'f1 movie actor & lewis hamilton's partner' is your new title to skysports 🙏🙏🙏 ⤷ yourusername add in 'ferrari's biggest fan' and then yes

a/n: hope you guys liked this, cause i loved making it!!!

He was refreshing in that sense. You had been around more than enough “woke” people who weirdly worshipped your blackness, but not Peter. He celebrated it; he celebrated you. 

Race wasn’t something that came up often between you. He would listen to your frustrations as they arose, but he never commented on the fact that you were black.

He never fetishized or tip-toed around you. Peter was a genuine ally, never feeling like he had to make a show of how much he believed your life mattered. He just supported and only acted when you asked him to. He may have a hero complex, but he didn’t suffer from the white saviour complex, and for that, you were grateful.

You woke up this morning feeling almost overwhelmed by that gratitude. Peter was asleep, his curls strewn about the pillow. You had convinced him to grow them out. You promised to play around all day with his hair, finding the right products and creams to use. He agreed because he loves it when you play with his hair.

His lips were slightly parted, plush and pink. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose glows in the early morning sun. They were very subtle, almost imperceptible unless you got the opportunity to track them down, inches from his face. You were happy to say you got that opportunity often.

Basked in light and in your arms is where he belonged. Not on the streets, fighting crime. He deserved to rest. He was exhausted last night. His eyes were half closed as he clambered out of his suit, tripping on the feet. He only agreed to a shower when you offered to join. You would have joined regardless, but there was no way in hell this man was climbing in your sheets covered in soot.

“I can feel you staring.” A small smirk pulled at his lips though his eyes remained closed.

You didn’t respond with words, instead deciding to pepper his sweet face with kisses. You felt his smile grow as you went, until it fell into a full-on laugh.

You swear his laughter had a direct line to your heart, the sound filled you, and your heart swelled to adjust. His hands found purchase on your hips and rolled you over until he was on his back and slotted between your thighs. His favourite place to be.

“You’re just so nice to look at, so handsome,” You tease.

You continue in your ministrations, your lips painting a path from his jaw to his cheek, his eyelids and his brows, up his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. All while cradling his face. Holding him like he was your most precious possession. Something deserving of the Louvre or the Tate. You poured out your love, letting it seep into his soft, golden skin.

While Peter was a giver, he struggled to receive. You took any opportunity to remind him how much you loved him, how much you appreciated him. You felt his deft fingers worm their way under your sleepshirt, where they fronted an attack.

“Pete!-”

You collapsed against his chest as your body racked with giggles. He flipped you around again, and you could do nothing as he continued to tickle you.

“Pe-Pete, no!”

His hands stilled but held you firmly. You slowed your breathing and finally opened your eyes. They were met with glowing stars, burning bright and filled with adoration. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, feeling flustered by his unabashed gaze.

He only chuckles as he pulls you up to sit in his lap. His hands move to your back, painting soothing circles across your skin. You melt into the touch. You get hit with another wave of love, feeling it pulse against your ribcage. You begin leaving kisses across his neck, trailing across his collarbones. Peter takes the time to work his hands up your sides, massaging the muscle as he goes. You truly are putty in this man’s hands.

You find yourself on the other side of his neck, releasing a sweet sigh as his hands worked over your shoulders. His hands move to your neck, focusing on any knot he finds until they’re all gone.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer and encouraging him to keep going. He removes your bonnet, setting it to the side, and massages your scalp. This was heaven. You moan at the feeling, and Peter chuckles.

“I really should be doing this for you.” Your words are muffled and slurred, but you know Peter hears them.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “it’s black history month.”

You both fall into a fit of laughter. Eventually, his hands disappear from your scalp, reappearing under your chin. You let it guild you, bringing you face-to-face with him. His smile is lazy and warm.

“Do I get any real kisses this morning?” You tilt your head to the side and pretend to ponder it. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, though, with your wide smile- you fool no one. “I guess you’ve earned it.”

Kissing Peter was one of your favourite pastimes. In a perfect world, your lips would only feel his skin. Always attached in some way. But these kisses were your favourite. The kind where your smiles get in the way. The slow and steady kind, where there’s all the passion but none of the rush. You simply get to be, enjoy, and love. His are soft and sure.

You feel safe here in his hands, treasured. Your arms rest lazily around his neck, your nails tracing shapes on his back. Peter tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes at your lips, and you don’t hesitate to part them. It dances with yours and makes you dizzy. You get lost in it for a moment before you pull away. Peter whines, and you can’t help but laugh at his little pout.

“Sorry, bub, I got a full day ahead of me, and I need to get started.” He squeezes your waist, and you jump as your nerves alight, sending those familiar giggles to your brain.

“But it’s your day off,” he says through his frown. “And mine…we get the whole day together.”

You lay a quick kiss on his jutted lip, “Yeah, but it’s wash day. And I wanna braid it out. That’s gonna take all day.”

Peter hangs his head in defeat for a moment before it shoots back up. He beams, sitting up straighter as he presents his idea. “I could help.”

Scepticism falls on your brow, “You wanna help…?”

He looks at you as if you’ve issued a challenge. “What? You don’t think I can?”

You laugh as you link your hands behind his neck. “I think you can; I just don’t think you understand the commitment you’re making. It takes me upwards of nine hours to do my hair.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your chest. Your hands run through his hair as he gazes up at you like you hung every star in the night sky. “Well, I’ll be here, and you’ll be here, so I might as well help.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Peter, when you said you’d help, I didn’t think you meant like this.”

You were currently in the shower with your boyfriend pressed against you. His hands trailed up and down your stomach as he pressed sweet kisses down your neck. You felt his lips tug at the side, a smirk you knew well.

“Don’t worry about me. You can wash your hair, just pretend I’m not even here.” His lips find the spot that makes you shudder. He holds you closer, knowing your legs weaken when he does that.

“That’s not fair; you’re very distracting,” you retort as your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair.

Pete’s hands find your hips and give them a firm squeeze. He knew you loved it when he showed off how strong he was. He was playing you like a fiddle, but you couldn’t bother to be mad.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Peter knew the answer. He caught the way your pulse quickened when he suggested you shower together. He heard your breath hitch when he took off his pants. He could smell you even as he lathered you with soap. You just liked to tease; you liked to act tough. But your bravado quickly crumbled for him. And he loved that. That your gentleness, your piety, was only for him.

“No”

It left your mouth in a puff of air. So soft and sweet, whispered with the water. Peter wasted no time dipping a hand into your slit. His finger probed around, collecting your slick and teasing you further. His foot found yours and kicked it, spreading you apart farther. You moaned softly as he licked up the collum of your throat.

“All this for me?” He rubbed small circles on your clit, a small taste of what he could do, and you both knew it.

“It’s just the shower.” His other hand reached up, gripping you by the jaw and twisting your face towards him.

“I don’t think it is”

He picked up the pace and swallowed your moans. His pillowy soft lips devour you hungrily, and you can feel his hard-on in the crest of your ass. He rips away from your lips, and his hand goes to your boobs, pinching and pulling on your nipples. He enters you with one of his thick digits. He shows no mercy as he thrusts it into you, finding your g-spot in a matter of seconds. Peter knew your body well and loved reminding you of that.

He adds another finger, and your body involuntarily jerks, chasing Peter in all directions. He hisses as you grind against him. Your toes are curling, and the steam makes it hard to catch your breath. All too soon, he removes himself. You whine as your high is stolen from you.

He waits until your eyes are on him before he brings his fingers to his mouth. He hallows his cheeks around them before pulling them out with a soft pop and a moan. You watch with wide eyes as he runs his tongue across them, collecting every drop of your essence.

“You taste so good, baby.” 

He presses his praise into your skin- down your neck and across your shoulders. He continues down a path, following the curve of your spine. He takes quite the bite out of your ass, causing you to yelp, before continuing to nibble on your thighs.

Your hand tries to grip the wall and provide you with balance, just his gentle touches making you shake with anticipation. He notices this and throws your legs over his shoulders, your back pressed gently against the cold tile.

“You okay, baby?” You try to slow your breathing, nails scraping against his scalp, the wet curls wrapping around your fingers.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Peter loved communication; it was important to him. Though often, he would steal your ability to string anything coherent together.

“Good, 'cause I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m hungry." He sent you a wink before disappearing between your thighs.

You let out a cry as he suckles your clit. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he spreads them farther apart, whipping his head furiously between them. You’re seeing stars.

This is a stark difference from the sweet kisses you shared this morning. This was need, hunger, a carnal desire. He was chasing your high as much as you were. He moved his tongue inside you, the pink muscle scraping against your walls. You ground your hips down, and you both moaned.

You, because your clit bumped his nose, a jolt through your nerves that brought you closer and closer to your peak. And Peter, because he loves when you get off to him like this. He loves that he gets to see you like this, on the brink of desperation and lost in desire. He loves that he can make you this way. That he’s the only one who can.

Eating you out is Peter’s favourite pastime. In a perfect world, he would spend every moment between your thighs, drinking from the fountain of you, never satiated.

He grinds his face into you, loving how you flutter around his tongue. He loved every way your body told him you loved this. It was like picking up a new language. He knew the meaning of every twitch, sound, and pulse. He was fluent in you.

He felt the way your thighs were shaking and knew you were right there, you just needed a little push, and he was happy to provide. He cages your leg against his shoulder as he reaches around and presses firmly against your clit.

“Fuck! Pete!”

You cry his name, and he thinks it’s his favourite sound. It spurs him on further. He only wants you to respond like that. He moves his thumb, spelling his name as if your brain would subconsciously pick up on it, and you would say it again. He’s fucking you with his mouth and marking you as his.

Your orgasm crashes through you, a broken moan ripping from your chest, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. Peter continues to fuck you through it, drawing it out for as long as he can. Wanting everything you had to give him. He really was hungry.

Your body convulses, your grip on his curls strong as you try to pull him away. This doesn’t dissuade Peter by any means. He knows you can cum again; he needs you to cum again.

Your pulling on his hair inadvertently brings him closer, and he revels in it. His mouth trades places with his fingers, giving your clit a small break from his brutal beating.

However, you don’t recognise it as a “break”. Your sensitivity sends your brain into overdrive, or underdrive- you weren’t sure. All thoughts were half-baked, and your muscles were moving of their own accord. You were glad Peter was there to hold you because there was no way you would have been able to support yourself.

“Pe-Peter! I-unghhh”

Peter had to fight his grin, knowing that he rendered your brain useless, only able to think of him and your high. There was truly no more beautiful sight. Your jaw slacked, as a cacophony of lewd sounds fell from your open lips. Your brows furrowed as you chase your peak. Your unfocused eyes, half-lidded, looking down, searching for him. Your body quaking around him. He wished he could capture this moment on camera, encapsulate this moment forever.

You pushed your hips forward in a final thrust, taking his fingers deeper and his unholy tongue pressing harder against your sensitive bud. This time you scream, nearly collapsing over. Peter brings a hand to your throat, keeping you upright while he drinks from your fountain.

He gently removes his fingers from your core, and you whine slightly, bringing a spirited smile to his face. He wrapped your legs around his waist, admiring your completely blissed-out face. You were so beautiful. In any way, but especially this way.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck, not caring that you were panting on your auditorily sensitive, always-way-too-warm, boyfriend. To be fair, he didn’t care either. He would suffer through anything to hold you like this. And it was deserved. He did kinda render you useless.

He laid a kiss to your temple and you hummed, cuddling into him more. “Alright, coach me through the washing.”

He listened intently as you told him how much product to use and where to massage it in. He was careful to try and keep all the shampoo on your scalp, heeding your warnings of drying out your curls. He was so tender and sweet. He was much gentler with your hair than you ever were.

He peppered you with kisses as he coaxed you under the shower head. Despite your recovery and your ability to stand once again, Peter refused to let you down. Keeping you wrapped around him like a koala or sloth. You couldn’t say you minded all that much.

Peter was most excited to brush your hair. He had never really gotten to do that, as you only ever did it in the shower. He felt proud that you trusted him to do it now. It felt intimate, special.

Sometimes he would get to brush May’s hair. It was long and beautiful, and when he was younger, she would let him if he asked. He would have her sit on the floor as he stood tall, bending at the knees to accommodate his short little arms. He missed those moments with her. He missed her. But in you, he found new things to miss, and he was forever grateful for that.

He continues to run the comb through your hair, even when the knots were gone, because he loved how you melted into him. You were practically purring, and it felt nice to take care of you for a change.

He couldn’t count how many times you had patched him up, made him food because he had forgotten to eat, checked up on him, or helped him through an existential crisis. You were always there for him, his rock. He would be lost without you.

The water started to get cold, so you begrudgingly left, feeling a little betrayed by your water heater for ruining such a wonderful moment. Peter only set you down then, but ordered you to stay on the bathmat. You chuckled as you watched him run, butt-ass naked, through the hall. When he returned, he held a few towels and worn shirts in his hand. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his smile. It will always make your heart stutter.

“Arms up,” He directs and you follow.

He wraps a towel around you, and you can’t stop the satisfied sigh that leaves your mouth. It was warm and fluffy, almost enough to put you to sleep. Once he’s secured it around you, he gently moves your arms back to your sides and places a sacrosanct kiss on your lips. Your only complaint was that it was too short; your body naturally follows him as he pulls away.

He chuckles, “Steady sailor. We still got a lot of work to do. Can’t get distracted now.”

You lovingly swat at him, and he rewards you with a laugh, one that squishes his eyes and crinkles his nose. It takes everything in you not to kiss him silly. But it’s not your fault; he knows better than to look at you like that.

“I brought you these to choose from. I remember you telling me cotton is better for your hair. So, here’s three of my shirts to choose from, and whatever you don’t pick, we get to wear.”

You can’t help but beam at him. You felt absolutely spoiled. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such royal treatment. Usually, this kind of behaviour was reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. Not a Thursday afternoon.

But you relished in it anyway, telling him which shirt you wanted to wear and which one you wanted to use. He kissed you on the nose as he passed them both to you.

You explain every step you take as you do them, even coaching Pete through some parts as you let him try it. Peter is amazed by all the products and smells. He’s a little embarrassed as he struggles through some steps; you work with such grace and ease. You explain that the steps are a little different because you’re styling your hair today, instead of enhancing your natural curls. Peter tries his best to commit everything to memory.

While you’re blowing out your hair, Peter leaves to make breakfast. You don’t really need his help for it, and honestly, the sound of the fan bouncing around the tiled walls was a bit too grating for him. As he whips up your favourite breakfast meal, he scrolls through google images, trying to get a better idea of what you were wanting to do.

He sees a lot of looks he thinks you would like, but one sticks out the most. He hadn’t really seen it before, but he thinks you would look absolutely stunning. He’s watching a tutorial when you enter the kitchen. He’s so engrossed in the video you startle him as you wrap your arms around him.

His spidey senses work differently around you, and that’s something he’s still figuring out. His best guess is it doesn’t warn him about you because there’s not a single bone in his body that sees you as a threat. You’re the only person since he was fourteen who could sneak up on him. You don’t often do it on purpose, either. And he thinks his body knows that too.

Usually, his “tingle” lays dormant unless there’s a general danger, but now it’s…evolved in a way. If he focuses, he can almost feel you. He can just think of you, and his body will tell him if you’re distressed and where you are. His instincts lead him like a compass- to you, his true north.

There have been more than a few times he rushed home to check on you just to see that you’ve dropped something or were watching a scary movie by yourself...again. He loved it, though. He had never felt so close to anyone before. He loved that there were no defences between you.

“Whatcha watchin'?”

Pete pauses the video before he turns in your arms. 

“Have you heard of butterfly locs?” You grin, delightfully surprised. 

"Yes, I have,” you say as you peck him on the nose. “Why?”

“Well, it’s your hair, and you can do whatever you want. And I’ll help no matter what you decide. But I think you would look absolutely gorgeous in them. And you can do fun colours or add funky charms. But also, I know you said you were planning on the box braids, and I’m unsure how easy it would be to switch up the plan like that.”

God, could you love this man anymore? 

“It’s actually really easy. I still have to make a Sally’s run; I haven’t bought any hair yet. Do you wanna come with?” Peter nods his head fervently, and you can’t help but giggle at his excitement. 

Pete is in awe of the selection here. He had no idea there were so many options. He excitedly asks questions, and you’re happy to answer all of them to the best of your understanding. He happily holds everything you pass him and even convince him to get some products for himself, like a hair mask and some mousse. 

When you get home, Peter shows you the videos he watched and his strategy. He helps you section your hair and tries not to complain about the sticky gel too much. With his help, it doesn’t take nearly as long. You play around with the length and stylings, and once finished you’re very happy with it.

Peter was right; you look fine as hell. You check yourself out in the mirror and laugh when you catch Peter watching you from his seat on the bed through the reflection. He’s completely in his own world, his eyes ooze raw adulation, and you can’t help but feel a little flustered.

You walk over, slotting yourself between his legs. His hands come to rest on your hips, something he doesn’t even think to do. It’s just so natural. It’s where his hands belong.

“Do you like it?”

His expression never falters, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“Did you know that I am so in love with you? Like do you know? Because I am. So, so, very in love with you.”

You feel your cheeks warm, “Yes, I know.”

His dopey smile stretches, “I don’t think you do. But I’ll be sure to tell you until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Your heart is doing summersaults, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He places a kiss to your sternum, “Well, I’ll do my very best.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled forward. You land directly on Pete, and if you weren’t aware of all his body was capable of, you might have worried about hurting him. Instead, you giggle at his antics and let him hold you tight.

Your new locs fall around his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so lucky. Here, hidden behind the curtain of your hair, it’s just you and him. You lay there for a while like that, just drinking the other in. It’s the perfect respite from all the chaos in the world. Your hearts beating together, your love flowing between you.

“I got you something,” Peter whispers. 

There’s no need for anything louder in this proximity. “What?”

His hand leaves your waist, and you hear a familiar thwip, then the crinkling of a bag. 

Peter opens his palm to you, and a small gasp leaves your lips. There rested a little charm; hung on a small ring. You picked it up and admired how it twinkled in the evening sun. A little spider, from your man. You sat up, looking in the mirror as you strung it through a loc. 

“Petey, it’s perfect!”

“Not as perfect as you.”

You had pitched the idea for this part of the series a few months ago. The “Get to know us” playlist you had created on the team page had gained a lot of traction and the next video up was the “What’s In Your Locker?” trend. A TikTok video where the players give their fans a peek into their personal lockers to get a glimpse at their personality and lifestyle outside of the field. “It's not going to be anything too crazy. Just the basic snacks, routines, lucky charms, etc.” you explained in the meeting. 

It was going to be a piece of cake. 

Little did you know what Ony had in store for you and for the fans. 

You walked into the locker room, camera crew right behind you. They had the lighting set up and ready to go for the series. The team had finished another practice and they were doing their daily shenanigans, joking and messing around. “Okay boys! Cameras are about to start rolling!” you call out, giving them time to settle down before the red button popped up, indicating you were rolling. You grabbed the mic and started your rounds. This series would be a little bit different since it was live so everything had to flow well.

You start off slow walking over to Reiner, his southern slang and calm demeanor always setting a good tone for the videos. Chats start rolling in of women cooing over him. “Okay big Rei, my sweet guy. What’s in your locker?” you start. “Hey there darling.” He greets you. Hearts fill up the chat. He opens his locker door.  Everything is neat and organized. Clothes folded and tucked away. There was a small Texas magnet in the door holding a picture up of a young Reiner and his “nana” as he called her. Clean cut and to the point just like he was, “Sorry it's not all fancy. I’m a simple man sweetheart with simple taste.” his southern drawl croons out. 

Comments erupt in the chat “Raw. Next Question”

“Can he be anymore perfect?”

“Ain't nothing like a good ole southern man.”

“Thank you Rei.” you give him a smile and move to the next one. Your next player was Connie. He smiled big at you, legs bouncing with excitement as you approach. “Oh Lord here we go.” you giggle. “Connie Springer, do I want to know what’s in your locker today?” you ask him as you approach. “Come ooon, don't do me like that mamacita. I got some good stuff in here.” He bounces over to the door and swings the door open. If Reiner was all things order, Connie was everything chaos. 

His locker was packed to the brim, clothes stuffed into the corners. “And you wonder why you can never find anything for practice.” Jean said from across the room. Laughs echo across the locker room as Connie smacks his lips. “Whatever man. Your locker sucks. Mamacita, mira.” he turns your attention back to him. His locker door held chains with different charms, one holding the number 13. A horseshoe hung on the other side. “Y estas aquí son mis milagros. My charms from mi abuela y my tio. Son las cosas más importantes para mí.” he explained showing each charm to the camera. Again comments roll in.

“I don't know what he said but yes.”

“Can I have him please?” 

“BOOMSHAKALAKA YES LAWD!”

“Thank you C Springz. That's beautiful.” you say to him. You continue through several other players who give you different glimpses of themselves. Eren showing you his collection of skull jewelry to Armin sharing his favorite reads. You were just about to wrap up when your eyes landed on Ony. He leaned back against the bench watching you work the room. Your heartbeat thrummed in your chest as you did you best to keep your composure. His massive frame stretched out, relaxing and a small glint in his eyes. You took an unsteady step closer to him. “You can come over here. I won't bite.” his deep voice rang in your ears. 

“What I wouldn't give to be her right now!”

“OH MY GOD IS HE GOING TO DO A VIDEO!?”

“I’m so glad I didn’t scroll.”

“God, it's me again.” 

Comments scroll so fast it was hard to keep up with them. “Whoa, look who’s being a team player today.” Connie lets out. Other players try not to be so obvious with their shock but they mask it poorly. “Okay. Looks like we get a special treat today. The Beast himself is coming out of hiding.” you say softly. A small smirk curves at the corner of his lips. “Care to share what you’re hiding in there?” you ask nodding your head towards his locker. “Bet.” he says, standing and walking to his locker door, effortlessly drawing attention to himself. 

The door of his locker opens with a clank and squeaks open and the room was silent. 

The camera zooms in and widened eyes fill the room, no one expecting what they were seeing. Bright wonky stick figures drawn on white printer paper with old crayons littered the door. Scribbled names of “me and daddy” and “our family” written on the bottoms of each little masterpiece. Handmade “#teamony” craft magnets holding them together. 

“OMG ARE THOSE KID DRAWINGS?!”

“DOES HE HAVE CHILDREN?!”

“ONY WHY YOU CHEATING ON ME?”

Comments blur the screen at rapid speed. But when the camera zooms in closer, there is an eruption of energy underneath your skin. Because right underneath the lens of the live footage, pictures of his most kept secret were revealed. Images of him with a little boy holding a tiny football, selfies with a brown skin girl with slick back puffs, and then there they were. Pictures of Ony with his arms wrapped around none other than…you.

Printed selfies of you and him decorated the door. Selfies of you from date nights to casual Sundays at home during the offseason. Your face was plastered all over his locker room door. Beautifully captured domestic life shots of you, your kids, and your husband were being revealed across social media. Your cheeks heat up and skin tingled at the moment. The view count tripling. 

The locker rooms was dead silent. 

The revelation was jaw dropping. The sweet energetic social media manager they’ve grown to love and their number one player they respected and adored. Together? “W-wait…so y’all are…” Connie tries to find the words but for once was rendered speechless. “This.” Ony speaks up. “Is my motivation. These people right here. My kids Ocean and Oryan, and my beautiful wife Y/N. That's who I’m playing for.” His eyes find yours.  “Every Sunday, I put my all on the field but my heart is forever theirs.” Your chest rises and falls and you have to will the tears away. The man they knew as the beast, a tough no nonsense type of player revealing a piece of him he held so dear to his heart.

“So this is not like…a prank or anything? This is real life. Y/N is your wife?” Eren speaks out, trying to wrap his mind around the truth. Ony’s gaze stays locked on yours, pride and admiration sparkle in his irises. “Nope. This is who I play for. Who I win for.” he emphasizes walking closer to you. You try to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay as he nears. His teammates look at you both in awe, a blanket of tension building between the two of you on camera. The views continued to sky rocket, reaching the highest the social media team has ever seen but the only thing you were focused on was your husband. The man formerly known as the beast, a feared titan amongst men, was no beast at all. He was a father, a partner, a simple being behind all the physical prowess. 

“Damn O, you been hiding a whole family from us. That’s crazy.” Jean called out. The live content that was mean to be used for snippets later slowly shifted from a what’s in my locker to all things Ony and the followers were eating it up. Comments ablaze with questions about this newfound discovery. 

“How long she been with my man?”

“How old are the babies?” 

“Chat, is this real?”

“So, what’s up? How long has this been going on?” Eren asked. “Yeah, and have we met your kids? CAN WE MEET YOUR KIDS?” Connie jumps up and walks closer. Ony chuckles to himself. “If that's okay with wifey,” he says walking up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then y’all came meet them after the next game.” He looks down in your eyes. “That fine with you beautiful?” he asks softly. “Y-yes. That's okay.” you respond. Gone was the gung ho attitude from before replaced with a bashful softness only your husband normally sees.

His teammates stood there taking in the moment. Seeing a new side of Ony was something they weren’t expecting but in their hearts, they felt a shift. The leader of the team whose tough exterior stepped in the room before he did was revealing a deeper side of him resonating not only with his teammates but with every follower that was on the live.

THE LIVE!

Your mind was so wrapped up in your man that you didn't even register that you all were still rolling. You quickly turned towards the camera. “Well I hope y’all enjoyed this segment and we will catch you all in the next video.” you start to end it. Comments rushing in to tell you to keep it rolling but you knew that  you needed to wrap up and do it quickly. “TEAMNAME Signing off. See yall next week.” Ony finishes it off for you, arm tossed around your shoulder.

As the video finished, you tell the team to cut off the cameras but the energy in the room still buzzed around, still vibrating off your skin. Ony let you go and closed his locker door softly. He tosses his bag over his shoulder and walks back to you, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. “So…that was unexpected.” you say meeting his gaze. “What can I say? Got to keep things interesting. Don't want you to get bored of me.” he smirks at you. “I could never get bored with you.” you say softly, your lips pressing against his. 

Connie walks up behind you clearing his throat. “A-aye Ony man.” he starts. “I just wanted to say eres una inspiración big bro. We all go out and do what we gotta do on the field. But this,” he swipes his hand out gesturing towards you. “This is real shit amigo." “I appreciate lil bro. Forreal.” Ony daps him up and pulls him into a hug. You bite back your smile at the overwhelming love he was receiving. Being a football player’s wife was not easy but things like this made it all worth while. 

For the first time in a long time, your husband allowed himself to be truly seen and it made your heart swell with joy. Slowly the room starts to settle down and people begin to head home. You wait for Ony to finish packing his bag so that you could leave together. “Oh shoot my phone.” you say to him. As he waits for you, you rush into your office to get your phone from the desk. The minute you picked it up, your screen was flooded with notifications.

The video had went viral. Shares, comments, and memes overtook your feed. People had found your personal page from the video and were following you. Comments about brand opportunities and business along with outpourings of love filled your inbox. You stood there for a moment to take it all in. Several sports pages showcasing headlines about

“The Real Ony” 

“Ony’s Family Revealed”

“Onyankopon and Y/N: The Beauty Behind the Beast.”

That one made a laugh escape your chest. Major sports networks were sharing all about this small encounter. “Hey, you good baby girl? I lost you in here?” Ony’s head peeked around the corner of your office. You slip your phone in your pocket and meet him at the door. “Nope. Right here with you baby.” you say to him.

Later that evening, after tucking your kids into bed, you lay up under your husband and clear out more notifications. “This is going to be a field day trying to get through.” you mumble, mind already working overtime. Blogs wanted inside scoops about everything, your relationship, your kids, etc. Everyone wanted to know the story. “Uh uh. No working in bed.” he says snatching the phone from your hand and putting it on his nightstand. “But…” you start to argue but he pulls you close and kisses the disagreement from your lips. “No buts. We handle it tomorrow. Together.” he reassures you. You cuddle in close to him. “I still can't believe you did that, you know? I thought you were okay with keeping it quiet. What made you change your mind?” You ask laying on his chest. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“It was about time I showed everyone my heart.” he shrugs, puling you closer.