I just want a cuddly Ethan concept. I’m so lonely and just want to be wrapped up in his arms. He just seems like the softest right now.
honestly what i imagine him looking like in this
i want that too 🥺
walk with me on this journey, yeah?
the nights you read together are the best. those nights are few and far between these days, so you cherish them when they come.
most of your reading nights consists of a mountainous pile of blankets, the infamous Frank Sinatra record Nothing But The Best playing through on the record player (your grandmothers reading habit you’ve taken up yourself), lamps off and fairy lights turned on, each of you on your respective pillows.
some nights you listen to Ethan read. you close your eyes and dive into the richness of his voice when he loses himself in a world far away. often times he can read for an hour or two, enough to lull you close to sleep and make his own eyes droopy.
mostly you listen, sometimes you give him a laugh or two, and sometimes, when he’s showing off just how much he can tap into your emotions, he can make you cry. those are the times you don’t talk about later, when you lay awake next to him and cry from him reading to you. but it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful to you and it’s real.
not that anyone could blame you for it. he was pretty convincing.
the times that you do cry, he let’s you feel that strong emotion move you, let’s it sink through you and hold you there just long enough for him to dog-ear the page and pull your tear stained face close to leave a lingering kiss.
his kiss does the trick most of the time, or distracts you just enough so you stop thinking about whatever sorrowful event took place within the pages of the book.
he pressed his lips over the rivers of tears, wipes his thumbs across the soft expanse of your cheeks, tells you “i’m here”, “just breathe i know it’s sad”, “i’m not going anywhere”
his reassurance is calming, your racing heart fluttering at his promises and whispering hushed tone. his hazel eyes watch you in your vulnerable state, knowing these moments are rare and scary for you. you are not one to favor vulnerability, even in front of ethan. but when you do, mostly on reading nights and days that are hard to work through, he’s there with his soft eyes and gentle hands. he combs his fingers through your hair with one hand, the other holding your face just to take you in.
his beautiful girl that sees the beauty in a fictional world but not in herself.
you gaze at him through your tears, blushing and sniffling in embarrassment. you know it must be foolish to be this upset over something that’s not real. but it is for you in the moment…the characters, the action scenes, honesty and bravery…even the hardships and loss. it’s so real and engrossing. you can’t help it.
you’ve never met anyone so in tune with your emotions, not even your family. ethan knew each and every moment what you were feeling and what you needed. when words fail you, his arms were there to take their place.
he pulls you in close-close enough to have you laying on his chest, your face flat and turned to the side, legs on either side of him, his hand tracing patterns on the skin of your back peeking out beneath your shirt. cuddles always help you calm down even when you aren’t to the point of tears.
“tell me what you’re thinking,” he usually mumbled, knowing your body language better than your intricate thoughts. he loves to hear what you have to say.
“i wish good people didn’t get the cruelest of punishments…and i wish you weren’t so convincing.” your muffled giggle in the fabric of his white hoodie makes him smile, a soft tug at his lips. it was his favorite sound.
“hmm…” he acknowledges, eyes focused on the blank slate ceiling above him, “i think you might be the only person to ever call me convincing.”
“what a shame that is. you give the words their magic.”
for a stretch of at least ten minutes there is silence. silence and soft touching, tracing, and slow breathing. he’s honestly stunned at your admission, enthralled by the way you lift your head until your chin is resting against him, giving you the right angle to watch him stare up.
“thank you for not calling me dramatic,” you pathetically whimper, remembering the many times your friends and family would say that very thing when you would get a little too emotional over a piece of writing. you were moved, and you didn’t see a problem with it until they pointed it out.
“your mind is powerful. there is nothing dramatic about that, sweets.” you know he’s being honest. for once you feel understood, taken care of, loved.
the grin that lights up your face is honest and pure. without thinking twice you reach around to grab the hand tracing your back and bring them forward to your lips, kissing each knuckle with closed eyes.
you weren’t normally the most touchy or physically affectionate person, but at times you let that go. it’s worth it to have his eyes watching your lips press to his skin innocently, in the most nonsexual way but still just as breathtaking.
“you’re my favorite boy,” you whisper between kisses, turning his hand over to kiss at his palm tattoo, “i’ll never let you forget it. you are my Riden…”
Riden was the love interest in the book you’d been working through together for over a week now. it was a shock how much you loved the characters and their chemistry, feeling as if you lived within the pages.
But ethan was it, he was your kiss in the rain, the rollercoaster rush, wish in the well, the rush through an airport before a flight takes off and your love is gone forever. he’s one of the good ones, and you’re planning on showing him every day for as long as time allows.