Part One, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16, Part 17
@kallmekmk‘s Masterlist
Summary: Clementine’s life hasn’t been easy, but despite everything, she escaped a toxic relationship and is making her way through it with Daze, her service dog, by her side. This new gig with the Avs seems like a kickass opportunity to jumpstart her new life, and the last thing she expects to find is love; that is, until she gets stuck in an elevator with Mark Barberio and her life changes forever.
Word Count: 4670
Word Count, Total: 79,760
Author’s Note: Thank you everyone for being so patient. This part has not been Nora’d. She is far to busy with real life to help me with my make believe people. I really really really hope it is up to par with what you are used to. If you have a moment, send her some good vibes.
Warnings: So many lemons
Reminder: *~*~*~*~* means a change in POV and we are starting with Tine today.
Previously on WLGYL….
I pressed my grinning lips to hers for a final quick kiss before I pulled away and asked, “Can you drive or should I pick up the car later with Landy?”
“I can drive, Barbs. I will probably freak out about this later, but that is later’s problem.” Even though we’d only be apart briefly for the drive back to my place, I pulled her into me, covering her body with mine; the bone-crushing hug I gave her was meant to be entirely endearing and comforting and not at all weirdly caveman and possessive and territorial so I hoped it didn’t read as that, but I wanted her to know just how proud of her I was, and remind her that I wasn’t going anywhere. I may have gotten carried away as I held her close to me and gave her a hard, toe curling kiss but the affection in my heart just couldn’t be contained and it had to come out somehow. When I was done kissing her senseless, I pressed my forehead against hers, mimicking our positions earlier, as I whispered, “You are fucking amazing.”
I loaded her things into the bed of my truck, and backed out of the drive, waiting until she pulled out so I could follow her to my place.
Part 18
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I spent most of the drive back to Mark’s loft deep breathing and having a not so small epiphany that my parents gaslighting had led the way for me to be manipulated by Bill.
The spots in the garage were surprisingly roomy even with two vehicles parked in them, one of which being a big ass truck. Mark pulled Daze’s food bin and my large suitcase out of the bed, “Lemon, are you ok? You were driving like a bat out of hell.”
I hope you’re all up for some friends to lovers (again) from yours truly. This one is 4.5k and is a bit angsty with some swearing and some softness. It’s kind of like a glorified blurb because I wrote it quickly just to get some motivation back but maybe I’ll write something a bit bigger and more thought out soon. :)
“Are you always second fiddle to Mat?” Anthony rolls his eyes at Brinley, though she’s smirking at him and that look makes him chuckle as he nudges into her side where the pair lean against the railing at the bar. Just a few feet in front of them stands Mat, surrounded by multiple girls all twirling their fingers through their hair and batting their lashes to try and get his attention.
“Mostly, yeah,” Anthony grins. “You’re Brinley, right?” She nods through another sip.
“And you’re…actually, you know what?” She smirks again. “Everyone calls you so many different things, I honestly have no idea what your actual name is.”
Summary: Chemistry can be the greatest drive in a good friendship but when that chemistry leads two friends to explore what more looks like, that monogamous commitment doesn’t come as easily as it should with a mess of feelings and a lack of communication fighting against the good that was always there between you both.
You were such a cliché. You were lots of other things too, some good and others bad but you were a cliché nonetheless. You ran into Jeff at a coffee shop downtown, literally, and after recovering from how embarrassed you were, you looked up into his eyes and saw those damn dimples and you were done.
Your friendship blossomed easily. You found out that he was a professional hockey player who had just been traded to Buffalo and so soon you were going to games and being introduced to his friends and it all happened so quickly that it felt like you didn’t even get a chance to explore if there were any feelings between you.
You truly didn’t even realize you missed the opportunity until months later when Jeff told you he had started seeing a girl and your heart quickly dropped to your stomach in disappointment. You gave him your best smile in response and hoped he didn’t see through it as you pulled yourself from his couch, muttering a stupid excuse to cut movie night short before heading home to cry and sort through the feelings that had hit you like a punch to the gut.
Summary: You’ve never loved Christmas, and there’s nothing that can change that; especially not your best friend’s grumpy Swedish friend who you don’t even like. However, when you’ve gotta be forced into the Christmas spirit to write a Christmas story for class, there’s only one person who is willing to try and help you.
Words: 14k (I’m SO sorry)
Note: Here it is, a Christmas story in November. Honestly I’m nervous to post this, I’ve never put so much of myself into a story, but here we go. I loved loved loved writing this and I hope you guys like reading it. Also, the cliche scenarios were stolen from a random blog post.
–
“You’re such a fucking Grinch.” Brock takes a sip from his hot chocolate. There’s murmur in the bar around you, and he’s muttering, but you still hear him clear enough.
“Hey,” you protest, lightly hitting him on the arm. “I’m not a Grinch. Just because you put up your Christmas decorations in October and have been singing All I Want For Christmas Is You since July, doesn’t make me the Grinch for not doing that.”
Brock raises an eyebrow. “You literally just said you hate Christmas.”
“I did not.” You stubbornly cross your arms. “I said I hate Christmas stories.”
“That’s basically all there is to Christmas,” Brock brings in, and that’s probably fair enough.
Apart from the food, presents, family time, decorations…
i can’t stop thinking about hockey fics referring to players as “handsome” or “attractive” when those words really only apply to actual stallion gabe landeskog, and words like “sort of…intriguing… i guess?” or “well he’s got an interesting personality if you project enough onto him” would describe them much more accurately. now that i have reluctantly joined hockey fandom, i feel like i can take some initiative and share some more faithful descriptions of our fav players (who, for the record, i love and cherish, but cannot rightfully be called any variation of ‘good-looking’):
geno looks like somebody tried to turn a bear into a human but lost interest halfway through the process
sid generally looks dead inside (when not doing hockey), constipated (when doing hockey), or like an alien tried to sculpt someone smiling based only on a verbal description they were given of what a smile looks like (when being chirped by the boys, looking at geno)
toews looks like a demon who tried to look like an average person but forgot to fix its eyes
jamie benn looks like a manager at applebee’s
auston matthews looks like somebody randomized him in the sims
mitch marner looks like he’s allergic to puberty
ovechkin looks like a caricature of a bond villain
backstrom looks like a grown-up hansel who’s still afraid the witch will come back and eat him
TK looks like one of peter pan’s lost boys if they were allowed to grow up & no one taught them how to shave
claude giroux looks like he plays for the flyers
pls feel free to reblog and add your own; this list is non-exhaustive!
vince dunn looks like an average looking frat boy who didn’t know he was allergic to bees until he got stung by one
kevin hayes looks like buster the horse from sesame street came to life and procreated with a human
elias pettersson looks like an alien who came to earth to scope out humans and is progressively confused, annoyed, and disgusted by how stupid humans are.
nathan mackinnon looks like a block of clay that is slowly being chipped away at (he’s getting there)
all of the staals look like they stared at the sun too much as kids
carter hart looks the kind of prince that wants to see how ‘the other half’ live so he spends a day on the streets of his kingdon disguised as a peasent
leon draisaitl looks like your TA that the class thinks his kinda hot just because next to your professor he is that you match with on tinder and who won’t stop messaging you
tyler seguin looks like he thinks having abs is a personality trait and therefore he doesn’t need to groom his neckbeard.
charlie coyle talks about how the wings at hooter’s are super good and that’s the only reason he goes there, then sends you a dick pick. maybe he has a foot fetish.
sebastian aho looks like the wife of a church minister that hadn’t had an orgasm in ten years until she starts having an affair with the caretaker of their church
4. “That’s the nice thing about telling the truth. You don’t have nearly as much to keep track of.”
...
They’re all little white lies at first. They’re reasons why you’re busy and fibs about a paper you’re working on for school. They start small and sometimes you have to build on them when Cale starts asking too many questions but he’s busy with the season and for the most part, you never feel like you’re about to get caught.
You’re sulking on Friday night, the snaps of Cale out with a new girl he met just a bit much for your heart to handle and so you turn your phone off and crawl in amongst the blankets on the couch as you try to focus on The Bachelor reruns and not the feelings you can’t control for the stupid, rosy cheeked boy you call your best friend.
You jump when the door opens, sure you locked it but in strolls Cale and your eyes flick to the time before they move back to him as he saunters into the room. “Mind telling me why you keep lying about what you’re doing lately?” he asks by way of greeting, stopping in front of you but not sitting like you expect.
“I’m not... there’s no lying, Cale,” you stutter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Where are you supposed to be tonight?” he presses, holding your eye more surely than he usually does. He’s serious and you’re nervous now that he’s truly onto you and that you’re going to say the wrong thing now that he’s pushing.
“Studying,” you say, though you’ve clearly not been studying and Cale’s eyes drift to your bag sitting by the door untouched. “I met with my group earlier.”
“Group for what class?” he pushes. “How many people?”
“Why do you care, Cale? You’re out living your life, don’t worry about mine.”
“I care because that’s not what you told me. You told me you were going out with Alexis but I just saw her at the coffee shop a minute ago and she had no idea what I was talking about.” You sigh at that and run your fingers through your already messy hair. His voice lowers and he crouches in front of you then, sliding the coffee table out of the way so that he’ll fit. “Why are you lying to me? What did I do?”
“I’m not lying,” you mumble, eyes cast down. “I’m not.”
“The truth, babe. Please.”
The pet name catches your attention and your eyes shoot up to his. There’s a look on his face you’ve never seen before and it cracks you that little bit more when your shoulders slump as he watches you closely. “I don’t even know what the truth is anymore,” you admit.
“That’s the nice thing about telling the truth. You don’t have nearly as much to keep track of.” He reaches forward then and pulls your hands from your face where he then laces your fingers with his. “What’s this about? What’s going on?”
You’re stuck now and your back is against the wall. Cale is too smart and he knows you too well and lying is simply just no longer an option. “I don’t like being friends with you,” you blurt. “I hate it actually.” You know for certain then that your words weren’t at all what he was expecting but he doesn’t pull away and so you keep going. “When you go out with the girls you guys find at the bar, I hate that. When you talk about girls on the road, I hate that even more and when you tell people we’re just friends, I feel like such an idiot because I don’t want that. I want you but I can’t have you and so I make up other things that I’m doing so that I don’t have to see you fall in love with somebody else.”
It’s a bold confession but it’s your confession and you’ve said it out loud now, no taking it back.
What you don’t expect is the smirk that appears on Cale’s lips, nor the way he then leans in close enough that you feel him surround you like he never has before. “Want me to tell the truth now?” he asks and you nod because you do, but mostly because you can’t find your voice now that it’s stuck in your throat at his proximity. “I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else but you. Well, I haven’t. I don’t want to and I haven’t. Just you.”
You’re a mixture of both shock and surprise at that but Cale decides to kiss you through it to show you rather than tell you how true his words are. You’re both too awkward to do much else but it turns out you’re not so awkward together and that kiss, that kiss is the start of something so much better than either of you could have hoped for anyway.
Would you write some cute friends to lovers thing with Tyson Jost? 👀
You should really have never agreed to move in with Tyson. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to or that you thought it would be awful, but he was never really just your friend and you had a hard enough time not telling him that on a regular day, let alone now that you got to see him in the mornings all sleepy and soft and right before bed with the moonlight filtering through the windows.
After nearly a year you should be used to it, but like the biggest cliche in the book, your feelings for him are stronger now and each morning when he brews your coffee perfectly and each night when he tucks you into his side on the couch, only makes it all so much more difficult to hide.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” It’s Tyson’s voice that snaps you out of the daze you’re in as you put the dishes away and you turn to him as you pull yourself back into the moment.
“I have a date actually,” you mumble. “So, that I guess.”
You watch a million different emotions flash across his face and then he scrunches his brow before replying. “But tomorrow is when it’s been a year since you moved in,” he sighs. “I thought we could go to dinner or something.”
“Most people celebrate anniversaries and birthdays, not living together, Tys,” you tease, though the fall of his shoulders does something to the knots in your stomach. “I didn’t realize something like that mattered to you. I’m sorry.”
He mumbles something you don’t catch at that before heading down the hall. It’s an awkward interaction and you’re left standing in the kitchen both confused and also with a bit of wonder in your mind at Tyson’s words and reaction. He’s kind and considerate and you love him, that you know but something feels off tonight, amplified by the fact that he doesn’t return from his room before you head to bed yourself hours later.
You’re determined to fix things with Tyson in the morning, even though you’re really not sure what’s wrong and yet when you emerge from your bedroom nearing 9am, Tyson is in the kitchen and he’s got a full breakfast almost ready to go.
He hears the way you say his name when you enter the room and he feels that tone all through his body. You’re not just his roommate and he knows he’s done a terrible job of telling you that and so he’s trying to show you now.
He sets his spatula down and lowers the temperature on the stove as he turns in your direction. You hadn’t even noticed the flowers on the counter but Tyson reaches for them and then hands them to you as he takes a step closer. “These are for you.” He speaks softly but takes a breath and you see him battling with himself over something you still don’t understand. “I’m really sorry about last night,” he continues. “I uh, I’m making breakfast if you want some.”
The flowers are beautiful and you’re incredibly thankful for them but you set them back on the counter and catch Tyson’s arm as he turns away from you. “Tys,” you start, the moment offering a bit of clarity that seems to come out of left field. You take a chance then, as you tug him back to you, and hope you’re right in what you’re thinking.
“I don’t have to go on that date tonight, Tyson. Not if you don’t want me to.”
He closes his eyes for a moment at that and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before he looks back to you, voice soft and slow. “I don’t get to have a say in that sort of thing.”
“But it’s our anniversary,” you try, inching closer even still where he now seems planted in place.
“It’s not,” he hums. “People don’t celebrate living together, they celebrate relationships.” He’s paraphrasing your comments from last night but you see the curiosity in his eyes and though you’re nervous, something also feels so right and you’re also feeling more brave than usual as you reach him and slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.
He can’t help how his own hands curve over your hips and how the pressure he places along the top of your sweatpants makes him feel so complete when you move closer at his touch. “Maybe today fits into the regular reasons people celebrate,” you whisper. “You just have to tell me if you want me to go on that date tonight or not.”
It’s so obvious now, obvious to you and obvious to Tyson and as he slides one of his hands up your back and as you tip your chin up to his, you’re no longer nervous but completely positive that this is the right thing to be doing.
“I don’t want you to,” he finally admits. “Not unless it’s with me.”
Your smile is uncontrolled, big and full on your face as you lean in to his touch. “Are you asking me out, Mr. Jost?”
“Yeah,” he grins, doing his best to control the giddiness and the relief he feels in his chest. “You free in say, 30 seconds because breakfast is ready.”
“Yeah, I’m free,” you tell him, “but are you one of those guys who won’t kiss me until the end of our date?”
It’s a small laugh you get then, and with how close you are to him, you feel the deep rumble from his body all through your own as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m not,” he smiles and then he leans in and presses his lips to yours so softly but so surely that you settle into the goodness of it all the moment the kiss begins.
It’s then that a timer goes off and yet Tyson pulls away only enough to place his forehead against yours as the buzzer rings through the room. “Happy anniversary,” he grins, all light and happy as you smirk back at him and kiss him yet again with a sweet and simply peck.
Summary: A trade and a subsequent breakup isn’t exactly what you imagined happening between you and Tyson but your own insecurities get the best of you above the love and the chemistry that had always kept you together. Can you find your way back to each other or will you let Tyson walk out the door for good?
It was sunsets and fortune cookies and black licorice. It was those cheesy cards with the pop ups in them and that one song by George Strait he swore up and down he hated but somehow knew all the words to. It was the little things like the sound of the coffee maker turning on in the morning that made you think of him, each a reminder that he’d left and never come back.
You couldn’t blame him though. He got traded and had to leave and when he asked you to come with him, you said no. You said no like it was the only option when right in front of you was a better choice, the right choice but you got scared and pushed him away when you should have pulled him in and now you were left drinking coffee in one of the mugs he’d left behind, pieces of him surrounding you in everything you did no matter how hard you tried to move on.
Here is a soft, friends to lovers mini fic. It’s 4.8k and there’s really not any warnings I don’t think? Drinking maybe?
You’d been having the laziest day possible. You managed to shower, which you were proud you’d forced yourself to do but that was really the extent of things on the list of accomplishments for the day.
You were too many episodes deep in The Ranch when your door opened and you didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it was.
Nolan, or Nols or Patty as the boys called him, was one of your best friends and he and a few of the other guys in the group no longer felt the need to knock when entering your apartment. Nolan even had a key somehow, though you honestly couldn’t remember if you gave him one or if he just sneakily went and had yours copied himself.
Part One, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15 , Part 16
@kallmekmk‘s Masterlist
Summary: Clementine’s life hasn’t been easy, but despite everything, she escaped a toxic relationship and is making her way through it with Daze, her service dog, by her side. This new gig with the Avs seems like a kickass opportunity to jumpstart her new life, and the last thing she expects to find is love; that is, until she gets stuck in an elevator with Mark Barberio and her life changes forever.
Word Count: 6,391
Word Count, Total: 75,090
Author’s Note: Thank you everyone for being so patient while Nora and I are working three jobs each and also trying to produce a novel for you guys to enjoy (a well written novel which is why y’all have to wait sometimes between parts). Fingers crossed our lives slow down a little after this, but no promises.
Warnings: No lemons, but discussion of sex toys and pegging, Showdown with gaslighting parentals, Discussion of mental illness/anxiety, panic attack, anxiety attack, rape mention, really bad jokes, super dry humor, overbearing best friend, too many commas.
Reminder: *~*~*~*~* means a change in POV and we are starting with Tine today.
Previously on WLGYL….
I couldn’t do anything more to fight it as she contiunued to work her mouth around me, letting one of her hands squeeze my balls and in utter defeat, I threw my head against the arm of the couch as I growled, “ffffucck.” My hips shot up and I felt my cum shooting into her throat as she continued to stroke me firmly. After the last spurt shot into her mouth, I watched her swallow it all, and she just kept sucking me until I started to get soft, at which point, she finally let me go with a pop of her lips. The sensation made me jump, and I looked down, studying her; she looked like a very satisfied woman.
Slipping an arm under hers, I hauled her back up onto the couch and arranged her on top of me. My joggers were still around my thighs, dick limp and wet against my stomach as I kissed her softly and asked, “Are you sure we can’t go to Vegas?”
Part Seventeen
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Apparently, 3 days of mostly sleeping and countless orgasms was the kind of rest I needed. I woke well before the alarm went off, early enough that the grey sky of the morning was just beginning to be streaked with pink.
I was naked, sleeping in my preferred position, which was halfway sprawled across Mark, who was also naked. Considering the weekend’s activities, I was fairly sure there was a pile of used condoms on the floor on his side of the bed, since that was pretty much the only thing he’d worn consistently since I’d gotten there on Friday. I rolled off of Barbs and stretched, smiling and grimacing simultaneously as I realized that I was definitely sore all over and if I used anything rougher than triple ply after going to the restroom, it was going to be unpleasant.
Mark stirred and rolled over, tucking an arm around my waist and pulling me into his body. His voice was gravelly from sleep as he grumbled, “Why are you awake?”
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