#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

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Please Please Please | Luke Hughes

summary: navigating a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is turning out to be a little harder than you expected. the 3 times you and luke were almost caught + the 1 time you are caught.

[word count] 4.3k

a/n: formed based on this request! i’m working on a good chunk of fics and similar stuff so keep your eyes open 💕 for now…enjoy! it’s been so long since i’ve written for luke..I missed him.

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one

"we really shouldn't be doing this..." luke's hushed words trail off, whispered against your slick lips as you two move through the room, stumbling over loose shoes and discarded clothes. his hands run up your torso hurriedly—yet smoothly—squeezing your skin in his palms like he can't get enough of you, despite his words. it's a sweet gesture, one that only turns you on further.

you shush him gently, dismissing his hesitance. you pull away from him slightly, but still close enough that you could lean back in at any moment and continue your hurried kiss. "please." you pout slightly, looking up through your lashes. you're so wound up from just kissing luke, you're not sure if you'll be able to stop now—despite the circumstances.

so regardless of your own selflessness—you can understand luke's apprehension. after all, if you were in his shoes you'd probably be shitting bricks right about now. your hands fall away from luke's broad shoulders, letting them trail down his chest until you reach his hips. slowly, you slip your fingers into the waistband of luke's sweats, and begin pulling him forward. "we just have to be really quiet."

luke stumbles slightly, caught off guard by your sudden movements. regardless, he follows easily, allowing you to bring him towards the edge of the bed. in that moment you're thankful the upstairs bedroom floors are carpeted, and the wobbly footsteps are muffled by the rug under your and luke’s socked feet.

the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed, and that has you falling back into the mass of blankets, releasing your hold on the elastic waistband around luke's ridiculously attractive hips—which, before you even met luke, you didn't even think hips could be so hot, but you'd been very quickly proven wrong.

you blink up at luke lazily, making your gaze come across as sensual as possible. you bring your knees up, and slowly your legs part, revealing the thin material off your blueberry printed panties—just visible under your shifted pyjama shorts.

but luke doesn't bite. he stays stagnant at the end of the bed, shirtless and visibly turned on—the straining situation under the soft material of his sweatpants giving him away.

his brows furrow. "what if curtis comes up here." luke questions, the worry evident in his expression. he gently rubs along his growing stubble, deep in thought as he continues to eye you. "what if we get caught?" luke's hesitant eyes flicker towards your closed bedroom door—well, your brother and his wife's guest bedroom door.

you were finishing up your final year of university in jersey, and instead of paying the ridiculous residence fees, curtis offered you the spare bedroom in his families home. and with that came a lot of social situations involving your brothers teammates. whether it was team dinners at different houses, or crowded bars after games, you were there—which is where you met luke.

luke seemed to always be around, and that combined with the constant banter he has with your brother, had you feeling enamoured with the youngest hughes brother very soon after curtis introduced you two. you found yourselves drawn to one another, and if one of you was near, the other wasn't far behind. you and luke quickly started dating—behind the back of your brother of course.

curtis has always been protective of you, especially when it comes to your relationships. it all comes from a good place, even if it made dating extremely difficult for you. curtis has always made sure to drill the negative stigma around young hockey players into your head—how he would never want you to date one...especially if said hockey player was one of his own teammates.

locker room talk was inevitable, and curtis didn't want to subject you to any of that ridiculous stuff or make you uncomfortable. and you didn't mind that protective rule of curtis' because you've never had an attraction to any of his teammates—until luke.

with that in mind, you and luke found yourself involved in a secret relationship. there's many measures you'd both take to ensure your romance stayed under wraps—you'd plan your calls around schedules, allowing yourselves to talk freely without your brother listening in. as well, you and luke would always plan secret dates, giving excuses of seeing friends in the city while you're actually tangled in whoever's bed is free. during gatherings, you'd be sneaking off into dark rooms, kissing like horny teenagers—it was all a thrill, one that you and luke found yourselves growing accustomed to, and honestly preferred.

you and luke were always careful—especially if curtis was around. if your brother was near, you and luke simply wouldn't sneak away, both too worried about getting caught and loosing the excitement and intimacy of your secret life.

but tonight was different.

the devils had been away on a week long road trip, expanding along the west coast and visiting teams like the sharks and kings. with the change in time zones, sneaking calls and facetimes with your boyfriend was practically impossible, and you and luke had only texted every few days to check in.

the interfering schedules and lack of communication left you and luke missing each other more than usual, and as soon as the devils plan landed back on jersey soil, you were practically vibrating with need.

when you proposed the idea of sneaking luke into the house once everyone had gone to bed, you didn't think he'd agree, but surprisingly enough he did. luke was apprehensive at first—which is understandable— because seeing one another while you're brother was home was always a big no-no. but the combination of the time missed between you and your pouty voice, luke had no choice but to agree.

slowly you unfold your leg, lifting your foot until you meet luke's shoulder. you nudge the buff surface with your sock covered toes, pulling luke's attention away from the bedroom door and back to you.

luke's gaze moves over you, shifting from your plump, spit slicked lips, down to your barley covered core and thin tank top that gives him the perfect outline of your pebbled nipples. he swallows roughly, a blush covering his high cheek bones.

"we won't get caught." you whisper seductively, your foot slowly trailing down his arm.

suddenly luke grabs onto your ankle, bringing your foot closer to his face. "you're such a bad influence." luke presses a soft kiss on your exposed ankle, right over the beaded anklet decorating you. his eyes don't leave your face, and as he slowly pulls away, a smirk begins to pull at his lips—tempting you.

you take your lip between your teeth. "you gunna punish me?"

he breathes a laugh, and manoeuvres your leg back into his spread, bent position. "you want me to punish you?"

you watch through hooded eyes as luke crawls onto the bed, moving until he's hovering over your flushed body. instantly your hands are in hair, running through his light curls, feeling the defined pattern between your fingers. "maybe I do."

his eyes flutter closed at the feeling, a small whimper passing through his parted lips. luke's large palm runs up your side, scooping under your tank until he's feeling your bare skin—running his thumb over your nipple.

you arch into him, a breathy moan leaving your lips, goosebumps covering your skin in the wake of luke's gentle touches.

luke kisses you slowly, a deep and bruising pressure that has you tingling all the way down to your toes. your lips part instinctively, moaning into luke's mouth as his continues to kiss yours, lips passing over yours in a gentle, slick embrace.

you're so easily distracted by luke's presence and touch, and you find yourself falling into a trance like state—loosing yourself in him. you find yourself here anytime you're with luke, always so easily falling into this intimate pattern. so it comes as suprise when your ears pick up on a dull thump in the distance, almost echoing through the quiet home.

"did you hear that?" you pull away from luke hurriedly, brows furrowed as you try and concentrate and listen further—straining your ears in attempt to catch any more sounds from beyond your bedroom.

luke whimpers at the loss of contact, eyes fluttering open to reveal his glossy, lustful eyes. "hear what?"

the dull thudding noise continues, increasing as if it was coming closer— sounding like somebody is walking, moving up the stairs towards your room. you gasp lightly, and with all the strength you can find, you push luke off the bed.

your sudden actions catch him off guard, and he goes easily, tumbling onto the rug with a loud thud. he groans out, and watches as you peek over the edge of the bed—your eyes blown wide with worry.

just before he can question your behaviour, you interrupt him, your tone hushed and full of fear. "it's curtis."

luke's face falls. "it's curtis?"

you nod quickly, looking in the direction of the door anxiously, listening as your brothers steps grow closer. you look back down at luke, "you gotta get under the bed."

"i'm not going to fit under the bed." luke whispers roughly, his own gaze darting between your nervous eyes and the bedroom door.

"well you gotta make it work, luke." you whisper wildly, shooing him. "scoot under—now."

the urgency in your voice has luke springing into action. he grabs onto the wooden frame of the bed, pulling himself under your bed. the rug rubs his bare back uncomfortably and the dust under the mattress is tickling his noise dangerously. the space is limited, and dirty, but you're not even thinking about that right now.

all you can focus on is the sound of curtis footsteps right outside the door, and just as the golden handle begins turning, luke finally gets situated under your bed, hiding from not only your sight, but hopefully your brothers.

you whip around just as the hinges squeak open, curtis appearing from behind the oak door. "hey." he greets you gently, still rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the palm of his hand. "are you talking to someone?"

you can feel the colour drain from your face, swallowing roughly as you keep your gaze ahead. "no?" your voice is definitely too high—too suspicious—answering quickly.

curtis's gaze narrows. "really? I thought I heard something." you watch in horror as your brother begins to look around the room, his movements suspiciously nonchalant as he scans the area—you can only pray that luke's feet aren't sticking out from underneath the mattress

you desperately need to get your brothers attention again and stop him from snooping around your space—you're pretty sure luke's phone is on the dresser. quickly, you spin your body to fully face curtis, clearing your throat. "well, I was watching a movie."

curtis' eyes flicker back to yours and away from your desk, his brows raised questionably. then, slowly, his gaze moves towards the tv on the wall. "the tv is broken."

you curse inwardly, swallowing thick salvia. "on my phone."

"okay..."he trails off. "just coming to check on you, making sure you were alright—couldve swore I heard something." your brother doesn't look all too convinced with what you're saying, and his pointed gaze has yet to waver.

you plaster on a smile. "oh i'm just peachy, curtis. thanks."

"you're acting weird."

"am I?" you question highly, crossing your arms.

he hums in answer, eyeing you suspiciously. "must just be tired. right?"

"right." you exhale shakily, and at this point you can only pray for this conversation to come to a close. subconsciously your eyes trail towards the bed, checking to make sure luke was still hidden.

curtis hums again, pulling your attention back to him. "better get to sleep then. goodnight."

you breathe, smiling again. "night."

he sends you one more curious look over his shoulder before he finally leaves, shutting the door with a gentle thud. the entire time you feel like you're going to die.

as soon as his feet sound descending back down the stairs, you're moving, practically skipping towards the bed.

your drop down on your stomach, looking under the gap between the floor and the mattress. "luke? are you breathing?"

he exhales loudly. "barley."

you send him a guilty smile. "guess we won't try this again, huh?"

two

luke pulls his hoodie over his torso, stretching his tired muscles as he adjust the material over his body.

the practice that finished only half hour ago was a taxing one. after a rough loss the previous night—one that he'd been cross checked in the ribs three separate times without a call—coach had been extra hard on the group today, which left luke even more sore and exhausted.

he shakes out his freshly washed hair, ruffling the curls between his fingers after they'd been flatted by his devils branded hood. the fuzzy material sticks to his damp chest, as luke was too tired to properly dry his skin—he just wanted to get home and call you, letting you coo at him and call him pretty (he loves it more than he’d ever admit).

"hey rusty." curtis distinctive teasing voice sounds behind luke, and he feels the center man’s hand on his shoulder, a rough squeeze in greeting. "you heading home now?"

curtis drops down to his reprieve stall—the one beside luke's—towel still around his waist as he pulls on his t-shirt, looking at the defence man expectantly.

luke swallows gently, giving curtis a quick nod. "yeah," he grabs his duffle bag, one full of extra hockey gear he always brings back and forth to the rink. "jacks already outside, said he wanted to shower when he got home."

"right on." curtis hums, pulling on his socks.

the sporadic buzzing noise of an incoming call draws the attention of both athletes, and their eyes are pulled to luke's beaten up phone, sitting screen up on the stall seat.

it's you. you're calling him.

curtis's brows raise, and he makes a teasing noise. "russssttttyyyy, who the hell is lovey?" before luke can even react, curtis picks up the phone, inspecting the profile picture set for your contact that’s flashing on the screen. thank god it’s an inconspicuous mirror pic, one lacking your face—luke can only pray curtis doesn’t inspect that picture too hard. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

luke swallows, eyes darting between the centerman and the phone clutched in his calloused hands. "I don't."

"there's a heart beside the name." he deadpans. "should I answer it and ask her about it instead?"

"no!" luke lunges towards his phone, but curtis is quicker, standing from is stall and side stepping the youngest hughes.

"easy dude. what's the big deal." with a breathy laugh, curtis slides his thumb across the answer button, picking up your incoming call.

"dude." luke grabs the phone from his hands just before curtis can place it to his ear. "a little privacy." the awkward chuckle that leaves him is almost embarrassing, and the way his hands have started shaking and the blush covering luke from head to toe is also humiliating.

curtis laughs, clearly finding amusement in luke's clear embarrassment. "i'm literally standing in front of you with my dick out, but sure rusty, i'll leave your secret girlfriend alone."

luke can just hear your muffled voice through the phone, muttering his name questionably—no doubt wondering what the fuck is going on. "sorry she's just...shy. you'll meet her one day."

curtis snickers, finally pulling on his sweats. "i'm sure I will."

luke nods—unsure what to say.

"better get going, rusty. think somebody is probably waiting to hear your voice." the center man's eyes dart between him and the phone in his hands, brows raised knowingly.

"right." he swallows, "see you later." luke practically runs out of the locker room, and as soon as he makes it down the hall, he raises the phone to his ear, hurriedly explaining to you the close call he'd just encountered with curtis.

three

you didn’t mean to have that many drinks—really, you didn't. but a couple of your friends from class invited you out to celebrate the ending semester, and because you all passed, they said drinks were in order and you had to join.

a few hours and many drinks in, you were practically falling over. you had stayed out later than you originally planned on, and curtis would be long asleep by now—leaving you with limited options for getting home.

drunk you—ever the clingy girlfriend—called luke almost instantly. and obviously luke picked up on the first ring, despite the early morning time, and of course he came to the bar as soon as you asked.

which brings you to right now, knees weak as you sway on your homes front porch, pouting up at your boyfriend in the cold winter night.

luke looks down at you gently, his eyes full of exhaustion. but yet, there’s a hint of amusement in them, and the edge of his mouth is turned up in a lazy smirk.

"kiss me goodnight." you drunkenly slur for the 10th time since luke guided you out of the car. you are looking at your boyfriend expectantly, an impatient whine leaving your lips. "please baby."

it's so dark outside he can barley make out your features, but he can see the way your hazy eyes twinkle at him—silently begging. luke's gaze flickers towards the ring camera quickly, praying that it's one that isn't an audio recorder, and if it does pick up sound, luke hopes you're too quiet to catch.

you’ve both always been careful with the camera before this, and if the lazar house was the only option for your…escapades, you’d both avoid the camera expertly—sneaking through windows and back doors like misbehaved children.

but you’re too drunk to even think about that, and luke’s too tired to even attempt sneaking you through the back door.

your pout turns into a smile, and your arms snake up his body, wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself up to your toes. "please please please please."

he sighs gently, glancing at the camera again. in a moment of weakness, he decides it's probably to dark too make out any kind of facial features through the camera anyway, and if he doesn't kiss you now, the camera will be the least of his worries.

so luke wraps his arms around your waist tighter, keeping your sway steady. he leans down, pecking your lips so quickly that he hopes even if the camera can see him, the affection was so brief that in a blink you'd miss it. "okay now go inside."

your grin widens, and as you finally pull away from luke, you're overjoyed and satisfied.

when you wake the next morning, you feel yourself panic—flashes of the kiss on the porch and the ring camera running through your mind.

you wait anxiously for curtis to bring it up and call you out for kissing his teammate in front of the front door...but it never comes.

the ring camera hasn't worked for a week—and that has you breathing a sigh of relief when your sister-in-law mentions it the following evening.

+one

you can't even think logically as you rush through the crowded arena, weaving through bodies as you clutch the pass around your neck, anxiously fiddling with the lanyard.

the scene in your head is playing on repeat—watching luke get thrown to the ice during the messy scrum from only minutes ago, his head slamming against the ice as he hit the ground.

you'd shot up from your seat, worry sketched across your face as you watched luke laying limp on the ice as the trainer spoke into his ear—the fear all but consumed you. jack's girlfriend tried to console you—comfort you—but nothing was helping.

you gave it 5 minutes. 5 minutes after they helped luke off the ice and down to the assessment room, before you were out of your seat, mumbling some excuse to sammy as you left.

you make your way through the tunnels easily, very much used to the area and familiar with the space after many visits with curtis. you find the assessment room easily, the door left open the smallest crack so you're able to subtly peek in—so if someone else is in there with him, you won’t be caught.

but it's just luke, sitting slumped on a doctor like bed with his eyes closed—arms crossed over his chest guard, his jerseys discarded in a sweaty lump on the metal table beside him.

with the coast clear, you push open the door fully, letting it softly swing closed behind you. the sound has luke's eyes fluttering open, and he immediately finds your worried eyes blinking back at him.

you breathe a heavy exhale, a slight wobble in the sound that portrays the emotion crawling up your throat—desperate to be let out. all the fear and stress and worry you've been feeling for the past 6 minutes are coming to a hilt, and you rush towards your boyfriend with a pout pulling at your lips. "are you okay?"

"hey." he mumbles gently, brows pulled tightly as you appear his side. "what are you doing down here?"

you gently take ahold of his face, eyes frantically bouncing around as if you're trying to locate any injuries. "luke, holy shit. I was so scared." tears begin welling in your eyes, bottom lip trembling. “you weren’t moving.”

luke slowly swings his legs over the side of the medical bed, cooing gently. your hands fall from his face in favour of wiping your own, catching the trail of water as it cascades down your cheeks.

luke's hockey pant covered thighs part, creating enough space for you to stand between them. he wraps his arm around you waist, bringing you into his embrace. you go easily, tears continuing to cloud your vision as you fall into his sweaty chest. "i'm sorry I scared you." he mumbles into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

you shake your head. "are you okay?" you ask again, pulling back just enough to look into his warm eyes. “what did they say?”

"i've got a concussion most likely, but i'll be fine." luke's words are reassuring, and so is the kiss he presses against your cheek. he's coherent, and he's moving—he's okay.

"is there anything you need from me?" you ask gently, pushing his wet curls off his forehead—something you’d always find yourself doing.

luke’s eyes flutter slightly at the comforting action. his soft grin turns boyish, and silently he purses his lips, asking for a kiss.

you roll your eyes gently, but oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. luke sighs pleasantly, parting his lips as he begins to deepen the kiss, pulling your body in tighter.

you smile into it, which allows luke the access to slip his tongue past your bottom lip, and you let him. his hand travels down your back, slowly tickling the expanse of your skin until he's rounding over the curve of your ass, giving your cheek a firm squeeze.

"alright rusty if you're gunna kiss my sister here, the least you could do is not play grab ass while you do it." the sudden voice of curtis has you pulling away, and you turn towards the door in record speed.

you'd been too lost in the trance luke always put you in—to absorbed in his body and lips that you'd missed not only the end of period buzzer echoing throughout the arena, but the door opening behind you.

you're too scared too move—too scared to even blink. you look at curtis with wide eyes, your face void of colour, giving you a lifeless look. and luke's no better, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his hand still on your ass cheek—even after you turned around.

you push his hand away and swallow roughly. "curtis...I-we can explain."

your brother shrugs. "there's nothing to explain. I know."

your brows shoot up. "you know?"

curtis nods triumphantly, looking rather pleased with himself. this time it's luke who speaks, swallowing the little salvia lingering in his dry mouth. "what-I-how?" he stutters.

"that night awhile back, when I came to check on you, luke's sweater was on your chair." he looks at you playfully, "I saw the number and I knew."

now you're going red, felling a wave of guilt and embarrassment creep in on you. "i'm sorry."

"we're sorry." luke adds gently. "we shouldn't of kept it a secret."

"I'm not mad—just a little disappointed that I was left out of the loop." then, curtis expression changes, looking at you with a gentle smile. "out of all the guys on this team you could’ve picked...rusty's the best one."

you smile, glancing up at luke.

he meets your gaze, and he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you back into his side.

"consider yourself in the loop." you chime through an exhale, looking back towards curtis.

"good." he nods, his usual teasing expression back on his face. curtis looks at luke, a brow raised. "so, were you under the bed or in the closet?"

you feel luke stiffen beside you, and you can't help but laugh.

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cuteandhughesy · 5 months ago

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I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Nico Hischier

summary: nico hischier acting as your fake boyfriend to try and get your family off your back this holiday season seems like the perfect solution - or so you thought.

[word count] 14.9k

a/n: based off this request! is this a plot i’ve seen before? absolutely! do i eat it up every time? ABSOLUTELY! hope you guys enjoy my third fic of my christmas special—I cant believe it’s almost christmas 🎄 this was originally supposed to go up on Christmas eve, but i finished it early 😘

🎵 i’ll be home for christmas by michael buble

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"I think the only way to solve this is if I jump off the highest mountain in jersey."

bree pauses her stirring hand, glancing at you sternly over her shoulder. "don't jump off anything, y/n/n."

you let out another unsatisfied grunt, a disgruntled noise that has come out your mouth many times since you arrived at your best friend's apartment - and you've only been here an hour.

the sound of the wooden spoon scraping along the metal soup pot starts up again, bree continuing to mix her homemade chicken vegetable soup she coerced you over with.

you watch the blonde with a pout on your slightly chapped lips - but it matches the rest of your appearance, so you're not even bothered that they are dry. resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you can't help but zone out and drown in your own dreadful bubble.

you've been feeling overwhelmed and stressed since last night. it started as you'd just finished eating your sad excuse of a frozen meal dinner, beginning to queue up the next episode of stranger things - when your evening was interrupted with your mom’s call.

"mom? is anything okay?" you answer quickly, brows pulled together in a curious manner.

you can hear her gentle laughter through the grainy line. "don't sound so scared to speak to me, honey. everything is fine."

you sigh. "just wasn't expecting a late night call is all....what's up?"

"well," she singsongs, and you can practically hear her wide smile through the phone. "you remember my friend susan, right? from work?" you hum once, so your mom continues. "well she has a son named scott, and he's around your age."

"why are you telling me this?"

she tuts her tongue like it should be obvious. "they are staying at same same skii cabin resort as us this christmas! and you're still single so I want you to meet each other - get to know one another."

that has you sitting up in a hurry, she's blown wide as you take in your moms words. "mom, no i'm not going to entertain this."

"why not? he's nice and cute-" your moms familiar voice fades into the background, as you can't focus on anything but the swirl of panicked thoughts in your head.

you've been single for three years - three years since your last boyfriend cheated on you with his macdonald's co-worker. honestly his first red flag should've been working at macdonald's at his big age of 28 - you should've broke up with him right then and there.

since then, your mom has been wanting you to get back out there, and 'give her grand babies' - you try to not shutter just thinking about it. she's been trying to get you to meet a million different young men, changing between her friends kids and even random baristas she meets at her local starbucks. and honestly you're just tired of it.

you won't find the love of your life through your mom - and it seems that only you can see the logic behind that.

you'd been looking forward to the few days away from the city for christmas, especially with your boss really coming down on you about upcoming new year business proposals that were honestly out of your job description. now your extended weekend that was supposed to relaxing and festive was tainted by your mom and this mysterious scott dude.

you come back to, your mom still lengthly explaining the christmas plans and scott and everything else in between. you huff anxiously, and before your brain can stop the word vomit that is festering on your tongue, you interrupt her.

"i'm bringing someone to christmas."

the blabbering in your ear comes to a quick stop, your mom going completely silent on the line. "who?"

you swallow, "my boyfriend."

the conversation went on for a bit longer, and you had blabbed about your fake boyfriend without giving away any type of physical details- heck you even avoided giving him a name. when your mom had asked, you told her that you didn't want to give anything away - the element of surprise much more enjoyable.

you cringe thinking back on it, closing your eyes tightly. you are so screwed.

the front door opens quickly, alerting you and bree to her boyfriends arrival. it's only a few seconds following the thud of his hockey bag hitting the hardwood floor that dougie saunters into the kitchen, hair still damp from his post-practice shower.

he looks up from his phone, finding you sitting with a frown at his kitchen island. "what's up with you?"

this time it's bree who groans out. she takes the spoon out of the soup and sets in on the countertop, spinning on her heels to look at you and her boyfriend properly—without straining her neck. "don't get her started."

you squawk. "bree! you're supposed to be consoling me."

she pouts at you, "I know - i'm sorry." bree swiftly moves towards you, wrapping her small arms over your shoulders sweetly. she smells like broth and caramel perfume, which is an oddly comforting scent. "I just don't like seeing you so stressed."

dougie peeks in the soup pot, humming softly at the sight of the various vegetables swimming among perfectly shredded meat. he turns back to you both, leaning back against the counter as he stares you down. "so are you going to tell me? or do I have to wait for you to leave, which inevitably will have bree spilling her guts."

"dougie!" your best friend screeches, eyeing her boyfriend wildly.

you all but whine, letting your eyes fall closed in pure embarrassment. "I'm screwed." you manage to mumble, one eye peeking open to look over at dougie.

he looks rather amused at your dramatics, and you kind of want to get swallowed up and never be let go. "why?"

you take a deep breath. "because....because I told my mom that I had a boyfriend and was bringing him to christmas."

dougie snorts and bree sends him a warning glare. immediately he stops, playing off the laugh with a small cough. "you don't have a boyfriend."

you eye him irritatedly. "you think I don't know that?" bree, like the most amazing and supportive friend she is, begins gently rubbing your shoulder, grounding you. you take another shaky breath, your earlier pout returning. "I just...my mom was all pushy and wanted me to meet her co-workers son and I just panicked."

bree gently pipes up. "you didn't give him a name or talk about his appearance, y/n/n - it gives you some freedom in trying to find someone. maybe you should re-download hinge and make it known in your bio that you're needing a christmas date."

you pull a face, the thought of scrolling through medacore men who don't meet your ethical standards and are most likely teetering on borderline homophobic doesn't sound appealing - like, at all. "i'm going to pretend I can't go - i'll just tell my mom something came up."

"hold on," dougie steps forward, resting his palms on the island. he looks between you and bree, his brows pulled together as he gathers his thoughts. "you didn't give your mom a name?"

you hum. "or any physical attributes."

a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, and he looks rather pleased with what we thought he's conjured up in his mind. "hear me out here...what If you take nico?"

you blink once. and then you blink again.

behind you, bree gasps. "that's a good idea!"

you shake your head, clearly confused. "he's not going home for christmas?"

dougie shakes his head. "no, the schedule didn't work in his favour, and his parents can't come out for a four day break. he was telling me today he was just going to be alone at his apartment....but maybe he could go with you."

it's....its actually not a bad idea. you like nico, he's always been so kind and sweet anytime you two have been together - which, granted, was quite often. surprisingly enough, nico and dougie were really good friends, and anytime you, bree and him wanted to go out, dougie would have nico join along. it's been like that for a few years, and the dynamic between you and nico was easy.

but...."no, I can't put him through that. you know how my mom is, and she's going to be all over him! and my sister and her husband, and god I can't have my niece getting attached....I just can't."

"you can." dougie hums, pulling out his phone from his sweatpant pocket. "you're just making excuses - nico won't care if your family asks questions. he's a team player who will easily help you with all your problems." he's busy swiping on his phone, barley glancing at you as he talks. "plus, it's not like he'll be out of your life after this - I already know he will be your fake boyfriend as long as you need him to be."

"dougie, no." you sigh.

"yes."

"no."

"too late," dougie hums, "i'm face timing him right now."

you left watching in horror, dougie coming around to your and bree's side of the kitchen island. you squawk, "absolutely no - dougie don't."

he's setting his phone up against the vase of flowers in the middle of the counter, displaying all three of you on the ringing face time screen. dougie looks at you, and grimaces. "try and look pretty. you look like a mess - c'mon."

bree smacks his arm. "dougie!"

you're not even going to disagree with him, because you do look like a mess. your hair is slicked back with your own oil - too lazy to get into the shower before coming over. your face is bare and you're in the middle of your period, with lingering hormonal pimples littering along your chin and jawbone. all that combined with your anxious eye bags, dry skin and ice cream stained pyjama shirt - well let's just say you've looked better.

your eyes widen as the sound of the call changes, indicating that nico is picking up the phone. "seriously I don't - heyyy nico." your hushed and panicked whisper towards your best friend's boyfriend quickly changes as nico hischier’s face takes over dougie’s phone screen.

"....hey?" he looks confused, and rightfully so. you're sure the last thing he expected with a call from his assistant captain was to be met with not only him, but his sheepish looking girlfriend and her hot mess best friend as well. his eyes move between the three of you, brows pulled tightly. "you guys okay?"

his accent sounds thicker through the phone, voice deeper....it's kind of comforting and as soon as your brain registers that calm feeling, it lets you spew. you begin telling nico all about your situation, but it seems that dougie and bree has the same idea, and all nico can hear is a jumbled sentence.

"y/n needs your help." dougie says, the words barley reaching nico's ears over bree's - "and she's just really stressed." that combined with your pouty lips as you tell him, "and his name is scott - like what kind of name is scott?"

you all come to a stop, eyeing nico through the phone screen. he adjusts the angle of his phone, giving you a glimpse of his location, which seems to be on his couch. "you're going to have to say that again, y/n. couldn't hear you over dougie's loud mouth."

so you tell nico everything - just you this time - starting with getting the phone call, your mom trying to set you up, your fake boyfriend lie and dougie's reason for the facetime. the entire time nico listens, not even interrupting you once as he digests the spoonfuls of information.

you sigh gently, "and dougie shouldn't of called you, nico. I really don't want to ruin your christmas by dragging you into my mess and-"

"i'll help you out." this time, nico does interrupt you, his soothing voice agreeing to the whole fake boyfriend story you'd thrown at him, cutting off the end of your lengthy ramble.

"really? why?"

he shrugs through the screen, a gentle smile beginning to pull on his face. "i'm not doing anything else. you're my friend, y/n, I want to help you out."

the relief that floods through you is ethereal, and you can already feel some of the stress leave your body. "nico, thank you...thank you, oh my god, okay I'll text you the details."

he grins. "looking forward to it."

the phone call ends just as the soup starts to bubble loudly on the stove, which has bree cursing, skipping back towards her food and turning down the burner. as she returns to stirring the mixture, she shrieks happily, glancing back at you. "no hinge needed!"

"you're welcome." dougie chimes playfully, pocketing his phone before he moves to grab three bowls from the cupboard, ready to serve some of bree’s delicious chicken vegetable soup.

although you're feeling stress free about the actual boyfriend part of finding a fake boyfriend— thanks to the devils captain— there is still the matter of having to prep nico for your family, as well as playing pretend with one another in hopes of convincing your family that you and nico are in love.

....and the stress is back, prickling under your skin in a way that has you jittery. you can only just pray nico doesn't get overwhelmed and ditch you on the side of the road on the way up to the lodge, leaving you to fend for yourself while he speeds back to the city.

bree slides the hot bowl full of soup in your direction, plopping the gold spoon into the liquid before she leaves. you thank her gently, and as you dig in into the meaty broth, you begin to create somewhat of a plan for you and your fake boyfriend.

DAY 1

you text nico after leaving bree and dougie's apartment once you had settled back at your place, assuming your usual lounging position on the living room couch. you send him the main details of your family christmas getaway like the name of the resort and it's location, as well as when you'll be leaving and how long you'll be staying.

thankfully, the devils schedule almost perfectly aligned with your families getaway, meaning that nico would be able to spend the entire holiday season with you and your family—he just has to leave early on the 25th for the boxing day game—which you can't yet decide if you're relieved about or stressed about.

regardless, three days after your impromptu facetime call on dougie's phone, you and nico are packed up in his car, backseat full luggage and various wrapped presents— all ready to head up to the ski lodge.

it’s been 5 minutes since nico pulled out of your driveway, and you still haven't said anything other than your initial greeting. the pressure of the day ahead is knawing away at you, turning your stomach into a wave pool of nerves.

the christmas music flows quietly through the speakers, providing a comforting hum in the background. nico keeps switching his gaze from the road to the side of your face, analyzing your anxious eyes as you zone out, nibbling the skin around your thumb nail.

he sighs gently and with a free hand turns the already quiet music completely off. the lack of the original taylor swift christmas song in your ears snaps you out of your daydreaming, looking over at nico with a tight pull to your eyebrows.

"why does your face look like that?"

you frown, "like what?"

"like you've just shoved your nose full of expired smelling salts," nico smirks at his own joke, glancing over at you once again. "seriously what's going on that head?"

you take a deep breath, your mouth opening and closing like a tiny fish—unsure what you want to admit. you don't want to seem ungrateful for nico‘s help by complaining, and you don't want to look stupid and embarrass yourself for being so nervous about spending christmas with your family. after a moment, you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at nico.

his flickering gaze is soft—comforting—and it has you faltering, head falling back against the head rest with a thud. "I can't lie." nico huffs a laugh, and you almost scoff at the sound. "i'm serious - I can't lie."

"technically, you're not lying."

you eyes widen comically, looking over at him wildly. "what part of this trip isn't based on a lie."

he sighs gently, fingers flicking on the cars turn signal as he approaches the highway lane. nico has always been so nonchalant in your presence, the complete opposite of you at any give moment, and honestly you're envious of that. he glances at you quickly, pulling onto the highway. "I mean, it's not like we are strangers—we're friends."

you don't say anything, too busy trying to understand what he actually means by that. nico smirks easily at you, "so we only have to pretend that we kiss and well....fuck."

you blush. "nico!"

��it’s true.” amused, he looks at you. "and, well, you can't turn red anytime someone makes a suggestive comment.”

groaning, you pull your knees to your chest, creating a spot for you to hide your burning face, tucking your head between your kneecaps. "can't help it." you say, but all nico can hear is your muffled voice making no sense as you talk into your legs.

"it's okay." he reassures you lightly. "so, what's your family like? what do I need to know?" he changes the flow of topic easily, which successfully has you pulling your head up.

"well." you start, voice a pitch higher than normal—contemplating what to say. “my mom she's very.....out there. she's not shy, and her social awareness isn't very high, meaning she doesn't care about strangers or what they think of her." your eyes flicker away from the busy highway infront of you, looking over at nico to gauge his reaction.

he hums, "what else?"

you sigh, eyes finding the road once again. "she also loves me...too much I think. and she always wants what's best for me — even if she thinks that's scott."

"she sounds fun." nico's words take you by surprise, because fun usually isn't the first word that comes to mind after describing your dear mother. you quickly turn your head, but much to your surprise, nico isn't joking. he's being sincere—smiling softly. "honestly she sounds like my mom."

the mention of nico's family has you feeling a bit hallow, and you remember the only reason he's able to help you out is because he couldn't fly out to be with his family. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling the skin until it feels sore. "i'm sorry about your family, nico. I really wish it would've worked out for christmas."

he shrugs once, glancing back over at you. "it's not your fault. besides, i'm here with you, right? so my christmas is coming together." you deflate slightly, nico's sweet and almost vulnerable words leaving you feeling rather soft. "so who else will be there? besides your mom and this scott guy?"

you huff a laugh, "well I don't know how much of scott we will be seeing now that i'm bringing you, but I do know that my older sister, tammy and her husband brody will be there. along with my niece, taylor - hence the disney princess wrapping paper." you thumb over your shoulder where there are multiple oddly shaped presents, all wrapped in disney paper.

nico snickers, sending you a teasing look. "thought you were just wrapping your own gifts."

"nico!" you laugh sweetly, "you’re ridiculous."

he smiles. "okay, okay. how old is your niece?"

"she just turned 6, back in november." you hum, leaning over slightly to turn the radio back up—only at volume 2—letting the familiar jingles add to the ambiance of the snowy jersey weather.

one of nico's brows raise. "so you've got a birthday twin?"

"wha-how do you know my birthday is in november?" you're clearly baffled, looking at nico like he just told you he met your long lost twin.

he glances at you wildly. "I don't have a brick for a brain! c'mon y/n/n, just because dougie is a stupid hockey player doesn't mean I am."

a dig at your best friends boyfriend never fails to make you chuckle, and you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, keeping yourself warm. although nico was joking around, you still aren't sure how he knew the month you were born in—how he remembered when your birthday was. it's just not something you thought nico would take note of. you don't do big parties for yourself, and you don't even post to social media—bree being one of the only people to celebrate you online.

your laughter dies down gently. "i'm just suprised that you'd remember."

his lips tug downwards in the beginning of a frown. "why would I forget?" nico's eyes flicker to yours once again, holding your gaze with a soft and warm expression. you take in a shaky breath, unable to find yourself wanting to look away from nico. his words, although nothing that deep, feel like the bottom of a warm lake, heating your chest with his question. it's a bare minimum that you've yet to experience with any boyfriend, real or fake.

he clears his throat quickly, eyes flickering away from your face and back through the snowflake covered windshield. "okay, what are our rules here? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with any of this fake dating stuff."

"oh. right, ummmm-" you blink, trying to recover from the abrupt shift in conversation and shift in your heart. "well to start, any question that my family asks about us and how we met, just tell them the truth. no need to fabricate some elaborate story—especially considering i've brought you up before...god my mom is going to die when she sees you." you mumble the last part to yourself, already picturing your moms face when you tell her the nico you're dating is also your friend nico.

he doesn't hear the end of your scentence, and only nods understandably, switching lanes. "got it."

you continue, "and this relationship between us is a new thing-- i'm talking’s within the last two months new. if they ask we say that we were just testing the waters of our relationship. and that gives me an excuse of why I hadn't told my mom about us before tuesday."

"that's good" nico hums appreciatively, clearly impressed with the little plan you'd made for you both. "plus it will make us look less insane when we are all over other and acting lovey dovey. that it’s just the honey moon phase."

your belly swoops, and your eyes widen in a slight panic. "why would we be all over each other?"

nico looks almost dumbfounded at your rushed question, his brows practically touching the edge of the hockey branded beanie sitting across his forehead. "because we are supposed to be dating."

you feel a little stupid in that moment, and when the end of nico's reminder is accompanied by a teasing smile you begin to feel very embarrassed. you try not to face palm, clearing your throat. "right, duh! that makes sense then." nico nods in amusement, which really has you wanting to face palm.

wanting to get back to the earlier discussion of rules, you hum in continuation. "I think cuddling and stuff is fine, right? like we can cuddle on the couch and hold hands in town."

"if you're comfortable with that." nico says, shooting you a glance, taking in your face to try and dissect your expression—trying to find an answer on your face before you say anything.

you laugh once, and even that sounds weird—no wonder nico keeps looking at you. "why wouldn't I be?"

"you're turning red just talking about it."

you face falls. "i'm going to throw myself out of this car."

"no, no." nico chuckles. "any other rules you want to lay down?" his eyes twinkle with playfulness as he shoots you another glance. "like what about kissing?"

obviously you blush because what. you don't let yourself react in the way your body desperately wants to, instead you keep your posture the same, humming in thought. "we don't need to kiss unless absolutely necessary."

once again, your eyes fall back to the driver's side, looking at nico as you wait for his response. you watch him smirk softly, eyes still on the busy roadways as he answers. "sure."

the rest of the car ride is filled with easy conversation and multiple impromptu karaoke sessions— nico laughing anytime you turn the music up and claim that it's impossible to not sing along to a justin bieber christmas song. the easiness of the whole dynamic between you and nico has you feeling much more at ease than you'd been when he first picked you up, and the idea of bringing nico to meet your family is becoming increasingly less stressful.

that is until your mom open the door, squealing in excitement at the sight of you and nico parking in the un-shovelled driveway of the rented ski cabin—waving at you both—your stress levels start to rise back up.

you swallow nervously, the sound of the car engine shutting off setting in your ears - there's no escape now.

"hey," nico mumbles, gathering your attention. he gently reaches towards you and gives your shoulder a reassuring and grounding squeeze. "don't worry too bad. it'll be okay."

all you can muster is a nod, watching through the front windshield as you sister peeks over your moms shoulder, her perfectly styled hair blowing in the wind.

"wanna get the bags now?"

"no," you finally speak, shaking your head. "save them for later just incase we need an escape route."

he chuckles. "okay dramatic - let's go."

with another encouraging nod from the devils captain, you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting out the car along with nico. at the sight of your face, your mom screams, waving at you like a crazy woman from the porch—the woman didn't even put on a coat before coming outside, leaving the door wide open behind her. "y/n, honey! you're here!"

"i'm here." you make your way up the pathway, nico's hand providing a ghostly pressure on your lower back as he trails behind you. "merry christmas momma."

she scoops you into a tight hug, kissing the side of your head repeatedly until it feels like all her lipgloss has transferred to your hairline. "merry christmas! and oh, honey don't be rude—introduce us to this handsome man." over your shoulder, your mom catches sight of nico and his ridiculously charming smile.

he looks so relaxed and happy that you're jealous. you're also jealous that nico manages to look that good after spending 2 hours in a car—but that's not important.

you quickly wrap your arm around nico's torso, bringing yourself into his warm side. nico easily follows suit, wrapping his hoodie covered arm around your shoulders, giving you another comforting squeeze. you smile—extra big—at your mom, rubbing your free hand over nico's covered stomach. "right of course, this is nico. my boyfriend."

recognition flashes across her face, eyes darting between you and your fake boyfriend—who you are currently cuddling with on the cold porch in front of your mom, an action that is very out of the ordinary for you. you can only pray she doesn't think too hard about everything. suddenly, she gasps. "nico?! like your friend nico?"

you scrunch your nose through a faux smile, "that's the one!"

she laughs, "is that why you were so secretive over the phone? so it would be a suprise?"

"yes." you say through gritted teeth, arm tightening around nico's muscular torso, grounding yourself through your white lies.

your mom beams again, hands clutched to her chest as she admires you both - granted your shivering and your toes are borderline frozen.

"it's nice to finally meet you, ms. y/l/n. i've heard so much about you." nico says easily, his accent perfectly complimenting his relaxed tone and demeanour. he removes his arm from your shoulders, and you fight the urge to pout from the lack of warmth, watching as nico puts his hand out for your mom.

she dismisses the formality, moving towards him with her arms wide open. "oh, honey, please call me ella - and i've heard so much about you, I can't believe you're finally here."

your eyes close in embarrassment, face flushing a deep pink as your mom embraces nico.

"mom, let them come in! it's freezing." your sisters honey laced voiced calls out from inside the house, and you can see her making her way back towards the front door, taylor on her hip as she easily saunters over.

your niece happily shouts as she catches sight of you, begging to be put down. tammy obliges, but tells her to wait until you get inside, not wanting a coat and shoeless toddler to walk onto the wintertime porch. behind her, your brother-in-law joins you, smiling and waving at you through the open door before pressing a kiss to your sisters head.

"yes, of course." you mom smiles, turning on her heels and walking through the door. "c'mon in you two, before you turn into ice."

too late—you think.

right before you and nico can pass the threshold into the log cabin, you mom puts her hand out, stopping you with a playful smile ghosting her face. you sister looks borderline fed up, closing her eyes at your moms actions, and brody just looks excited.

confused, you quirk a brow. "what's happening right now? you all look very weird."

you mom points up, "honey, you're under the mistletoe!" you smile falters, your eyes slowly moving up until you catch sight of the array of green mistletoe leaves dangling above you and nico. "it means you have to kiss - house and mistletoe rules."

nico laughs awkwardly beside you, warm eyes also on the festive plant.

"mom, no." you follow suit, chuckling through your discomfort as you set your sights back on your mom.

her brows pull together, a frown overtaking her face. "what, why not? just a little smooch?"

"they just got here, mom. at least let them take off their boots before you make them get to business." you sister—ever the saving grace—tries to move on from the discussion, sending you a wide eyed look behind your moms back.

you nod in thanks, "yeah. don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"

"why would that be inappropriate?" she gawks. "nico doesn't mind, do you?"

"I mean-"

"i'm your child, and you just met him." you interrupt whatever people-pleasing answer nico was about to spew, looking at your mom with an expression mixed up of amusement and bewilderment.

"c'mon, y/n," brody chimes in playfully. "it's not like we are asking you to suck his-" tammy smacks her husbands chest, a warning for him to not finish that scentence. "ouch, babe!"

"little ears." your sister reminds, gesturing to your six year old niece, who is still bouncing on her heels, desperate for you to get inside so she can steal you away. "don't egg her on." tammy is talking about your mom, who is still clueless on why making you kiss your supposed boyfriend when they just meet him is a bit weird.

the whole situation is stressful and overwhelming, and you kind of just want to turn around and make a run for the car. as if nico can sense your anxiety, his grip around you—now with his arm around your waist—tightens ever so slightly, reminding you that you're okay.

you swallow nervously. "let's not make nico-"

you're interrupted by the firm press of nico's lips on your cold cheek, kissing your face gently. the action seems to momentarily silence your family, but soon you can hear your mom cheer happily, mumbling something about how she 'should've taken a picture to send to your aunt shirley'

but you’re too distracted to register anything other than the lingering kiss against your cheek, and there's no doubt that your flesh is warming right under nico's lips. he pulls away, an easy smile taking over his face—like he's not even affected.

brody snickers, "see, y/n? wasn't so hard."

it seems that everyone is satisfied after that, your mom too busy texting on her phone to stop either of you from coming inside—thank god because you're pretty sure the inside temperature has dropped 10 degrees from the door being open.

as soon as you shut the door, taylor comes skipping over, her gapped tooth smile wide as she looks up at you. surprisingly, she doesn't attack you with hugs, but instead stops in front of nico. she looks up at him curiously, her hands resting on her tiny hips. "who are you?"

her bluntness has you laughing, even more so as you take in nico's amused expression, looking down at your niece softly. he bends down to meet her level, placing his hand out infront of her. "I'm nico, i'm your aunties boyfriend. what's your name?"

he already knows her name, but the formality of it all has you melting slightly, watching the interaction with an amused look. her tiny fingers splay over his palm, doing her best at shaking nico's large hand. "i'm taylor. you’re my auntie y/n's boyfriend?" her bright eyes flicker between you and nico curiously.

"I am."

she hums. "but you're too pretty for her."

you gasp, hiding your laughter. joining nico in his crouched position, you drag your giggling niece into your chest, lightly tickling her torso. "excuse you missy!"

"I don't know, taylor. I think your auntie is actually too pretty for me."

"yeah." she shrugs lightly, finally breaking free of your tickling. taylor shuffles back towards nico, "do you want to see my stuffies?"

"you have stuffies?" nico beams, "of course I want to see them." it's instantly that taylor grabs nicos fingers, leading him through the log cabin and presumably towards whichever room she's loaded off her stuffed animals in. you can hear taylor's excited babbling all the way down the hall, accompanied by nico’s enthusiastic responses as they disappear out of sight.

"honey can you go make sure she doesn't bore him to death. I can picture the tea party now." your sister sighs, looking at her husband expectantly.

"yeah," brody then looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his expression that you have grown to recognize. already, you're rolling your eyes. "I can't believe you're fucking an nhl captain y/n. good for you."

"go!" tammy hides her laugh behind her hand, but you can still hear her amusement through the muffled sound. brody waggles his eyebrows in your direction, further teasing you as he leaves.

thankfully your mom had slipped into the kitchen in the time you and nico had been talking with your niece—saving you from facing her after your brother-in-laws ludicrous comment. you can hear brody mutter something along the lines of 'course i'll go talk to the professional athlete, fuck kinda question is that?' — but you can't be so sure.

tammy grabs onto your arms, guiding you into the large, high ceiling living room. from what you've seen of the ski lodge so far, you're very impressed. it's got that rustic christmas feel that reminds you of your childhood, with grand windows and entry ways that overlook the winter scenery. with only a 5 minute drive to the hills, the resort was practically perfect.

you let your sister plop you onto the worn leather couch, the plaid throws scrunching behind your back as they slip around. tammy immediately sits down beside you—close enough that you're touching knees—facing you with wide eyes. "what the hell."

you make a face. "what?"

she scoffs a gentle laugh, eyes darting all over your warm face. "how long have you been crushing on nico?"

"what-what do you mean?" you blush timidly. you're unsure why the question has you feeling nervous—feeling caught—because nico is just a friend. a ridiculously generous friend who immediately agreed to spend christmas with your family to help you out, and is currently playing with your niece just because she wanted him to....its fine, really.

"well you've told me and mom that he was just a friend—you've been saying that for years and now you're dating? what's that about."

"oh, right." you really need to get a hang of the whole fake boyfriend thing, because the amount of times just today you've already forgotten is just criminal, and you're practically begging to get called out. you huff a gentle laugh, tucking your loose hair behind your ear shyly. "I don't know something just....changed."

"clearly." tammy laughs brightly. "how long have you been together?"

you swallow nervously, thinking back to the discussion with nico in the car about this very question. "only a few months. we kept it secret just in case...you know—bree and dougie are the only ones who knew."

tammy nods understandably, but a disgruntled expression quickly forms on her perfectly blushed face. "i'm kind of offended you told dougie before me."

"if it makes you feel any better, dougie was the one who set us up - so I didn't technically tell him anything." the twisted truth comes easily, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for that one.

"fine. I feel a little better." tammy smiles, shifting her body so that she's tucked against your side, loungewear covered legs bent towards her chest as she relaxes into you. her blonde hair tickles your neck as she tilts her head up towards you, eyeing you with a playful undertone. "he's cute."

"hey! hit on your own man." you try and push her off of you gently, but tammy doesn't allow it, wrapping her arms around you tighter as she laughs.

"i'm just stating the obvious, y/n/n." her nickname for you has you feeling warm and fuzzy, settling back into your cuddly position. you and tammy have always been close, even with your 6 year age gap. you've always done everything together, and told one another all your secrets—so you feel guilty for not telling her about nico, even though it's not real.

"you really like him?" tammy's question is a gentle and sweet whisper, looking up at you like she just knows.

you nod, probably too fast and too enthusiastically—but thankfully tammy isn't paying attention to that, only listening to your words and watching the way your eyes change into a more relaxed and emotional state. "of course," you breathe, smiling. "I mean...he's always been really sweet and kind. always making sure I feel comfortable in a crowded room, checking in on me when he hasn't seen me in a couple days. and well, just today he's made me the most relaxed i've felt in a long time...." you trail off, clearing your throat gently. "sorry, god i'm blabbering."

tammy shakes her head softly, gently grabbing a hold of your hand. "it's okay. it's sweet."

"auntie y/n! look at nico!" the tiny and shrill voice of taylor interrupts the rather tender moment, but thankfully it allows you take take a calming breathe and let your heart rate turn back to normal. your niece skips down the hall, dragging nico behind her as they round into the living room.

the sight of nico has you stifling laughter. "oh...wow."

nico smirks, hands held out as if he was showing himself off. the princess aurora tiara nestled in his brown hair catches the setting sun, sparkling in the dimming light. that combined with the bright pink lipstick smeared around his mouth and the lime green tutu that is 5 sizes too small for a professional athlete around his hips is just too much. "handsome right?"

you hum, nodding sarcastically as he gives you and tammy a spin—showing off taylor's work. "oh yeah."

when nico faces you again, he winks—so quickly you're not even sure if it happened. it has your face warming once again, your sister nudging her pointed elbow into your side as she wordlessly teases you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

after a very amusing hour of dress up—which of course you got dragged into—you all had dinner, thanks to your mom and her random bursts of energy that allow her to cook up roast dinners every other day.

dinner went surprisingly well, and nico seemed to fit into the family dynamic nicely. it was a weight lifted off your chest as you watched him easily discuss sports with your brother in-law and excitingly answer all of your moms borderline intrusive questions. it's full of laughter and honestly you're surprised at how well everything seemingly is going—it's a relief you didn't think you'd get to experience this christmas.

after a long travel day for you and nico, you both decide to retire to bed early, leaving your sister and your mom in the living room— your mother shouting out a general explanation of which bedroom is yours as you go.

you're not sure what you were thinking, but the sight of the large bed in the middle of the room has you feeling nervous, stomach swooping at the thought of having to share a bed with nico. you suppose you believed that some part of your mom still pictured you in highschool with a boyfriend and would make you and nico sleep in separate rooms or beds.

clearly not.

the bed looks absolutely heavenly though, with lots of fluffy pillows and a nice duvet with complimenting throw blankets draped over the corner—you can't wait to sink in and pass out.

nico, who had gone and got your luggage right after dinner, drags both of your suitcases towards the dresser, the gentle click of the handle sliding back into place echoing throughout the room. he turns back to you, "I can sleep on the floor if you're uncomfortable."

your eyes snap away from the luscious bedding and over to nico—he must’ve seen your blank stare. you shake your head quickly, "no - no, we are adults. i'm not going to make you sleep on the floor."

you can practically see the relief on his face and in that moment you're completely convinced that nico would've set up camp on the rug if you asked him to.

you continue, ignoring the weird flutter in your stomach. "plus my mom will probably burst in here every morning to wake us up and I don't want to make up some lie about why my boyfriend is sleeping on the floor instead of in the bed."

"of course." he chuckles, the quiet sound settling through the warmly lit bedroom comfortably. "what side do you want?"

you snicker, waving your hand as if you're trying to appear nonchalant. "oh, i'm not picky."

nico eyes you, one brows raised in question as if he can see right through your attempt at coming across easy-going—you've never even been close to that. "are you lying?"

your shoulders deflate. "yes."

he laughs again, watching as you make your way over to the left side of the bed, tossing your phone in front of the pillows as if you were marking your territory. "it's furthest from the door." you hum like it's obvious, looking at nico with timid eyes.

"sure." he hums softly, eyes lingering one yours for a moment longer before turning away.

nico has his back turned to you, digging through his carry-on in search of his toiletry bag. you watch the way his muscles move, his compression shirt giving you the perfect view of the ripples and hard work he's put into his body. you've never really noticed how in shape nico is—I mean sure you've like noticed he's got muscles because he's a professional hockey player...but you've never appreciated them like you are right now.

"y/n?"

you blink. "huh?"

nico smirks, and you instantly realize he's caught you checking him out. you blush wildly, trying your best not to collapse into an awkward puddle. "I asked if you want to use the bathroom first."

you clear your throat, "no go ahead."

he gives you another knowing smirk before disappearing into the on suite bathroom (which, holy, how nice is this place), travel toiletry bag and a new pair of sweatpants tucked under his arm. as soon as the door clicks shut, you let out a deep breath—one you hadn't realized you'd been harbouring.

thankfully you hadn't worn makeup today, knowing that you’d be travelling—the feeling of being stuck with makeup on your face during the couple hour drive here sounded like a living nightmare. so while nico is busy in the bathroom you quickly change into your christmas red striped pyjamas, shoving your dirty clothes back in your suitcase before nico can see.

the door opens again just as you locate your toothbrush, revealing nico is his team branded sweatpants and...oh he's not wearing a shirt. you swallow heavily, eyes quickly flicking over the expanse of his muscular torso. "bathrooms free." he says, easily moving towards the bed.

you nod. "yeah, thanks."

right before you can shut the door, he calls your name, stopping you in your rather frantic pursuit into the bathroom—which is lingering with the scent of nico's cologne. he smiles at you playfully. "i'll keep the bed warm."

that's it - you're going to drown yourself in the toilet.

DAY 2

you managed to not drown yourself last night—shockingly enough. after nico's fluttering eyes and stomach swooping tease last night, you'd made some stupid joke, one that you can't even remember—you're pretty sure you blacked out. you shut the bathroom door quickly, taking as many deep breathes as you felt applicable.

the entire time you'd been brushing your teeth, you just kept going through calming mantras in your head, desperately trying to grasp ahold of the shit show inside your head. thankfully the rest of the night was easy—easy because as soon as your head hit those inanely comfortable pillows you were out.

the reason for waking up this morning—like expected—was because of your mother, who loudly entered your and nico's room with a tinsel covered sweater and bright smile. "wake up love bugs. taylor wants us all to go into town and look at the trees together!"

you're then hyperaware that nico is obviously still without a shirt, and you happen to be tucked against his bare chest like your life depended on it. his peck, although it doesn't look it, is a surprisingly comfortable pillow. your body stiffen's against him, but before you can roll away, nico tightens his grip around you, keeping you in place.

"give us a few minutes." you manage to tell her, practically rigid against the devils captain. "nico isn't wearing pants." you can hear him make a noise of protest beside you, pinching your hip between his fingers.

"take your time you two!" she sing songs, leaving the room with as much pep in her step as usual. as soon as the door clicks closed, you push off nico, but he doesn't let you get too far, fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

"why'd you tell your mom i'm don't wearing pants?"

"I panicked."

"you're ridiculous—you know she's going to think we had sex now." his amusement is clear, and although it's at the expense of his dignity, nico is enjoying the humor of it all.

you shrug, slipping out of the bed. "hate to break it to you but they already think that."

through the mirror you left your bag in front of, you watch nico eye you from the back, his brows pulled curiously. "and why's that?"

"didn't you know? i'm secretly this like crazy minx who brings different boys to family trips and-" you're interrupted when nico tosses a pillow towards you, his laughter echoing throughout the room.

"get dressed freak."

—

you think one of your favourite things about being around nico is that no matter how his comments make your stomach swoop and how his gentle lingering eyes leaves your heart pounding, it's always easy to speak with him and just...be his friend.

which you suppose is normal with friends—you think?—its kind of hard to tell. you've only been close with your sister growing up, and then when you met bree in college she became your only other companion. when bree met dougie and inevitably started dating him, it opened up this new world to you; going to events and games, meeting so many people all with different personalities and backgrounds.

meeting nico was different though, because unlike the catalog of people that had come in and out of your life, nico was a constant. in the four years of knowing him, he's always managed to be that person—that friend—you felt you'd been missing. despite always playing nonchalant about your relationship with nico, dismissing him to be just a casual friend, you did really like him and cherish that friendship...and it kind of scares you.

after you moms abrupt wake up call, you and nico quickly got ready for the day, bundling in your warmest clothes to bare the chilly downtown weather—granting your nieces christmas tree browsing wishes.

the town is decorated beautifully, with stunning icicle lights dripping from every building, red ribbon wrapped around poles and pulled into bows at every corner, and the trees—filled with various sized and shaped ornaments that perfectly encapsulate the christmas season.

it feels like something out of a hallmark movie with the gentle pressure of nico's hand in yours, guiding you both behind taylor as she excitedly makes you look at everything. your sister and brody watch in amusement, very used to their daughters excitable personality. and of course your mom makes you and nico pose for hundreds of photos, because she has to 'capture the beautiful moment and the beautiful couple.'

she evens asks for you and nico to kiss—again—but just before you have to make up another excuse, brody chucks a snowball right at your chest. you immediately start hurling them back at your brother-in-law, distracting everyone from another non-kiss moment between you and nico.

after a few hours in town you all head back to the lodge, stomachs ready for some warm food to heat up that achy cold emptiness.

you place the serving tray full of freshly buttered buns in the middle of the table, next to the sour cream and shredded colby jack cheese—both necessities with your moms homemade chilli.

on the other side of the table, nico places one of the last bowls, the ceramic dishes clanking together—it's a peaceful noise, one that's often heard in kitchens. his eyes suddenly flicker towards you, and when he catches your stare a slinky smile curves at his lips. "are you judging my placement right now?"

the tease—so mundane and playful—has your smile growing, butterflies tickling the lining of your growling stomach. "never."

his gaze narrows, "well i'm definitely judging your butter abilities—that spread is so uneven."

you gasp, "think you could do better, hischier?"

"oh," he laughs, "I know I could."

you smirk, picking up one of the grapes sitting loose in the fruit bowl at the end of the counter, tossing it in nico's direction. but like the coordinated athlete he is, catches it in his mouth, chewing the crunchy grape slowly—winking at you while he chews.

"y/n," your mom looks at you over her shoulder, "do you mind just finishing adding the herbs? I gotta run upstairs quick."

"sure." you hum, making your way over to the stovetop, taking the long handled wooden stirring spoon from your mom. she thanks you with a squeeze on your arm before waltzing out of the kitchen, disappearing up the stairs.

as you begin twirling the utensil through the thick chilli, you feel nico come up next to you, his chest brushing against your arm. "why are you stirring it like that?"

you look up at him with wide eyes, your amusement clear. "you are just tearing my cooking apart today."

he laughs, "you're not cooking anything. you're simply just spreading and stirring."

a noise similar to a scoff falls from your mouth, and you tear your gaze away from nico quickly. "i'll spread something all right." you mutter with faux irritation, turning your shoulder away from him.

nico laughs again, chest rumbling against your skin. "that sounded dirty." his forearm wraps around your torso, holding you against his chest.

you're momentarily speechless with the feeling of nico touching you so intimately. your slow stirring comes to a stop, the end of the wooden spoon almost falling into the pot—but you don't notice. your head slowly falls backwards, resting just under nico's collarbone. "what are you doing?" you ask quietly, looking up at him.

nico leans down, his lips brushing against your ears. "what does it feel like i'm doing?" his breath is warm on you and you feel a static travel over your body—from your ears, down to your neck and shoulders, even reaching your toes.

"it feels like you're trying to hit on me." your words comes out breathily, barley reaching your own ears.

"maybe I am," he shrugs, and like he didn't just send your heart plummeting to your stomach, nico says, "your sister is watching us."

discreetly your eyes dance towards the large living room where you catch a glance at tammy—who is trying to not make it look obvious as she stares at you both lovingly, a cheesy smile on her face.

"so the only reason you're touching me is because of the audience?—that's a bit freaky, even for you nico."

he pinches your side lightly, which sends you squirming backwards, further into his embrace—chilli and herbs long forgotten. "i'll take any excuse to touch you, y/n."

nico looks down at you warmly, that boyish grin on his face that makes him look so warm and cuddly. you feel your face heat up at his insinuation, and you look away from his playful expression, bowing your head so you're looking back to the chilli.

"you're so pretty when you blush," nico mummers against your skin, pulling you back to his chest.

your blush deepens, a light laughter bubbling through your chest as you playfully push him away. "you're distracting me."

before nico can say anything else, the distant voice of your mother approaches. "and this is the kitchen! isn't it just so beautiful susan? I mean not just the lodge but the whole resort."

susan? who the hell is—oh my god.

nico watches your face drop, your eyes darting towards the kitchens entryway as the voices grow closer, this susan lady answering your mother just as enthusiastically.

he's quickly back at your side, a gentle hand brushing against your lower back. "what's wrong?" nico's question is hushed—determined.

you're honestly surprised that you can hear his whisper over the blood rushing in your ears. the rush of anxiety that pumps through your blood is overwhelming, and the reason you'd brought nico to your families christmas vacation comes trampling back. you swallow roughly, "susan...she's my moms friend and-"

"guys, this is my friend susan and her son scott!" your moms chipper tone halts your scentence, you and nico watching silently as your mom gestures to the unexpected company.

scott is...actually not that bad to look at—which is a gold star on your moms part. the dark haired man is standing merely few feet away from you as he moves to greet tammy. he's got that finance bro look to him, with a crisp button up shirt underneath his puffer vest—why men insist to wear vests inside is something you'll never understand.

he greets brody like a typical male would, bringing him in for a quick slap on the back—a smile on his face that shows his perfectly white teeth.

"y/n, honey this is scott." you mom singles you out, which of course she does, pointing towards scott with a wink in your direction.

you can feel nico stiffen against your back, his forearm snaking back around your waist. before you can think, you let your hand rest over nico's, interlocking your fingers between his resting against your torso.

"nice to meet you, y/n." he greets with a grin. "i'm scott. i've heard so much about you."

"you too, scott." you smile politely. "this is nico-"

"her boyfriend." nico finishes your scentence firmly, the hand that wasn't around your body jutting out on the other side of your body for a handshake.

scott breathes a laugh, shaking his hand. "boyfriend, huh? lucky guy." briefly scott's eyes flicker back towards you, eyeing you with a look you can't decipher. you feel yourself shrinking further back into nico, seeking that comforting aura that is the devil's captain.

"very much so." he agrees firmly, squeezing the flesh of your hip. there's a tense moment of eye contact between the two men, almost like a wordless battle of alpha male energy—which isn't very like nico.

scott hums curiously. "you look really familiar. do I know you from somewhere?"

"must have one of those faces." nico answers modestly, shrugging his shoulders once.

tammy waltzes into the kitchen, followed by her husband who is holding taylor in his arms. hearing the tail end of the conversation, brody pipes in with a quick laugh. "he looks familiar cause he's the devils captain dude—we are in the presence of jersey royalty."

"a professional athlete?" scott questions, that curious but condescending tone still laced in his voice. "bit unstable, no? unpredictable with trades and that?"

"can be. thankfully i've been lucky enough to have been with the devils since 2017."

"lucky indeed." once again, scott's eyes flicker back to you—giving you that awkward and uncertain feeling.

sensing the tension, tammy quickly intervenes. "taylor did you want to show scott and susan your stuffies before dinner is plated?"

taylor glances towards the two guests. "no." then her tiny brown eyes move towards you and nico, and instantly she's skipping towards you both. "nico can you sit beside me at dinner?"

something prideful blooms in your chest at taylor's request and dismissal of scott and his rather uncomfortable presence. "I don't know taylor," you begin teasingly, "I wanted to sit beside nico first."

she laughs, her adorable toddler giggle like music to your ears. "how about we both sit with nico."

you hum in faux thought. "should we ask him? see what he thinks?"

"yes." she giggles.

nico, who has obviously heard the entire interaction, pretends like he was unaware of the conversation happening quite literally in front of him—he ponders the question playfully, index finger tapping against his chin. when he tells taylor that he will sit with both of you, her tiny face lights up, and you can't help the way yours does as well.

dinner is served very quickly after, brody on serving duty as he fills every bowl with a hefty amount of chilli. the dinner runs relatively smoothly, saved for a few condescending questions from scott asking about only nico. for somebody who was seemingly trying to get to know you—despite having a boyfriend—scott seems to be really interested with the man beside you rather than you yourself.

thankfully only an hour after dinner and enduring painfully boring conversation with susan and scott, they end up leaving to go back to their lodge, and thank god because you desperately are ready for sleep by that point—excusing yourself and nico as you head towards the bedrooms for another much needed nights rest.

you pull the duvet back, creating enough space for you to climb in.

nico follows suit, slipping under the cool flannel sheets. "scott seems..."

you interrupt his trailing thought. "like an asshole?"

"yeah." he breathes. "truly what is that guys deal?"

"I don't know." you roll onto your side, facing nico with a huff. "I can't believe my mom still invited them to dinner. even though susan is supposedly her friend—who, by the way i've never heard of before tuesday. I thought she would've at least...I don't know? respected my boundaries? is that fucked up to say?"

nico shakes his head against the pillow. "no, it's not."

you groan, your irritation clear. "and then when she first introduced us and she winked at me? like hello, what is that about? because as far as she's concerned i'm clearly not looking for a relationship. I brought you here for this exact reason and-"

"hey," nico breathes gently, gathering your attention by running his hand over your pyjama sleeve covered arm. "it's okay, you're okay. I understand that you're feeling stressed and frustrated but don't get in your head about this."

you take a deep breath, nodding.

nico continues, "I don't think she had any malicious intentions with inviting them to dinner. I think she was pleasing people—like you would."

"I just wish her people pleasing didn't involve a literal walking bag of crap."

nico breathes a quiet laugh at your insult. "she just wants what's best for you, y/n—like you said. she doesn't realize that it's making you uncomfortable and she's too distracted by it all to notice that scott is 'a literal walking bag of crap.'"

your lip tugs upwards slightly.

"you should talk to her about it."

you groan, face rolling into the fluffiest part of your pillow. "I think as my boyfriend you should talk to her for me."

"i'm not actually your boyfriend." he laughs.

you scoff. "way to ruin the mood."

nico's smile is barley visible through the dark bedroom, but you can still see it, and the sight had you following suit, a grin taking over your face. he rests his head on his bicep, facing you. it all feels so intimate and precious and you never want to forget it.

your heart beat feels like it's bordering on dangerously fast—making you feel the best kind of nervous. you're glad the room is dark because you blush, clearing your throat. "i'm so happy that you're here nico. I don't know what I would've done today if you weren't with me."

his smile falters slightly as he swallows thickening salvia, eyes trained on your face softly through the moonlit room. "i'm happy i'm here too..with you."

DAY 3

you peer down the snow covered hill, gnawing on your lip in an unsure manner. "does it seem bigger from up here?" your hands wrap around the ski poles tightly, desperately trying to keep yourself from moving forward.

nico expertly slides in front of you, his skis bumping yours. "do you want to go back down? we can just walk back to the lodge if you're feeling scared."

you shake your head quickly. "i'm not scared...im just worried about falling on my face." truth of the matter is that you are feeling scared—scared because you actually hadn't skied since you were 10, and you'd actively avoided the actual ski part of your holiday trips by sitting in the lodge and reading whatever book you'd been into since then—but not this year.

nico wanted to get out on the hills, and even though he said that he didn't mind if you wanted to stay at the house or even in the holiday themed ski lodge, you didn't want him to feel alone out there, especially because he's doing you a favour in just being apart of your families christmas—so here you are on top of the ski hill. plus, any excuse to get away from scott, which of course your mom invited him and susan to spend the day with you all, you'd take.

"you're not going to fall on your face." nico tells you, his tone gentle as he looks down at you.

"you don't know that." you say. "what happens if my ski catches a divet in the ice and I go head over heels into the snow?"

he laughs gently. "the only reason you'll fall is because your hairs in your face—here." nico ditches his poles in the snow, and with glove covered hands he reaches towards your face. gently he tucks your hair underneath your hat, pushing away any hairs that have fallen out from your braid.

you swallow, eyes flickering over his face. "i'm a little nervous." you finally admit.

"it's okay to be nervous." nico adjusts the strap of your goggles over your pink helmet, moving it into a proper position. "it's also okay to back out."

"I don't want to back out." you huff. "I want to do it."

his lip tugs upwards in a half smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." you nod. "but you have to do it with me." you both make your way—you very cautiously—towards the edge of the slope. "i'm serious nico."

"I won't leave your side, okay? fix your knees like I showed you earlier...yup, just like that." he watches you intently, making sure you're in a proper position. nico finds your face again, an apprehensive look in his eyes. "you sure?"

"think so." you hum. "it’ll be fine." before you can decide to back out, you manually push forward until your skis take over, sliding down the first dip of the hill, sending your downward.

the sound of your skis slicing through the icy snow is a rather relaxing sound, one that has a smile breaking out on your face. the feeling of quickly moving through time, with the cool air kissing your exposed cheeks is rather freeing, and for a moment you're not thinking about anything other than yourself and nico.

you can hear nico follow suit, following your tracks within a safe distance. "good! keep your blades a little bent! like pizza." he calls to you, voice travelling through the wind whipping past your ears.

"am I doing it?!" you question loudly, eyes still casted forward as you reach the middle area of the slope, continuing the rather speedy descent down the snowy hill.

"you're doing it." nico answers proudly—a boyish chuckle following.

"oh my god!" you scream happily, "i'm doing it." you slide over a small lip on the hill, propelling slightly into the air. miraculously, you land with only a small teeter in your legs, continuing to ski downwards.

in a moment of excitement, you turn to look over your shoulder, eyes wide and full of disbelief as you find nico. "did you see that?"

his face falls. "y/n, watch out!"

as soon as nico's warnings finishes, you feel somebody slam into you, affectively sending you off balance and smacking towards the ground. you feel the snow cover your face as you land, and you groan out, eyes closing as a quick wave of pain washes over you.

"holy fuck—y/n are you okay?" the voice sounds a little distant to your ears, like they are muffled. they help you sit up, gently cradling your biceps with their hands as they pull you into a sitting position.

you squint in attempt to focus your vision, blinking quickly to clear the blur. "what?"

nico's concerned face slowly appears in your eyesight. "are you okay?"

you groan again. "I think so."

he breaths loudly—a sound of relief. his hands move from your arms and towards your face, un-clipping the helmet strap from under your chin. nico pulls the hot pink protective gear off your head, leaving you with your damp beanie and snow coated braid. "you scared me for a second there. does anything hurt?"

"not really, maybe just a little sore and bruised." you swallow gently as you watch nico as he gently moves your head from side to side, checking for external injuries. his gaze is so intense—so focused. the embarrassment and lingering pain in your limbs has you feeling emotional, and your lip trembles. "i'm sorry."

instantly, nico's eyes snap back to yours. "don't apologize." he watches the way your eyes begin to well up with tears, quickly looking around as if you're seeing how many people are watching you. immediately he knows you're feeling embarrassed on top of everything else, and he pulls you into his chest, pressing a quick kiss against your hairline over your knitted hat.

you can barley feel the kiss, but it's enough to where the gesture has you melting—melting because he wasn't doing it because somebody in your family is watching or making him…nico simply just wanted to.

"you're okay." he mumbles against your hat.

"I think I wanna walk the rest of the way." you mumble waterly, attempting to joke.

he smiles against you, "you think so?" pulling back, he meets your eyes, a boyish grin on his face. the sight instantly has you feeling better, and with a small grin you nod.

nico helps you remove your boots from the ski blades, popping open every latch and button so you're easily able to slip out of the boot slot. he follows suit with his own ski's, freeing himself of the blades hold so he's left in only the chunky boots.

a familiar voice calls your name, approaching you and nico. "shit i'm sorry." scott says, stopping in front of you with his ski's tucked under his arm. "I didn't realize it was you."

nico stiffens. "you hit her? seriously?"

"I just said sorry man." scott huffs. "no need to get all annoyed."

his brows raise is pure shock, eyes squinting accusingly in the shorter man's direction. "sorry doesn't help. what if she got seriously hurt?"

"she didn't though."

nico breathes in disbelief. "that's not the point."

scott takes a step back, "relax, dude."

"she's my girlfriend. I can't relax."

"whatever." scott looks back towards your shy face, offering you a sympathetic shrug. "sorry again y/n."

you nod once. "thanks."

that's all it takes for scott to leave again, practically jogging away from the both of you, back down the hill. he disappears behind the slope of the hill, and immediately nico is turning back to you, his expression that was only moments ago hard and strong, now soft. "he doesn't deserve your apology."

"I know." you breathe. "but I was done listening to him."

nico nods understandably, but he looks slightly worried—guilty maybe? "are you upset with me about that?"

"no. i'm glad you were here to defend me honestly. I would've crumbled under the pressure of my own need to be a people pleaser." you laugh lightly.

the ghost of a smile takes over his face. "promise?"

you nod. "help me down the hill? I need you right now—my hips a little sore."

in an instant nico is grabbing you, careful of your sore hip as he wraps an arm around your torso. "let me know if you need to stop at all, okay?"

you both begin to slowly walk down the hill, nico dragging the ski stuff behind you. "you worry too much." you tease him, gaze flickering to his face.

he breathes a laugh, not looking away from the hills. "yeah I worry cause I—" he pauses briefly, a gentle gulp following. "cause you're my friend, y/n."

"your friend?" you question his choice of words quietly—timidly.

finally, he meets your eyes. "yeah."

there's a moment then, where you're looking at one another with eyes that say a million things your mouths can't yet. you're unsure whether or not nico was about to admit to something—deeper feelings—before correcting himself, and you're not sure if you'll ever know.

but you're too scared—to anxious—to find out. because if it's not the answer you're hoping for, your christmas eve will be ruined, and your heart will be broken.

you laugh, breaking the tension. "that's not very fake boyfriend of you to say."

nico blinks once, but soon his expression changes into a more playful one, eyes twinkling with amusement. "c'mon y/n/n."

—

the warm bubbles are slightly ticklish against your skin, but it's a pleasant feeling. you sink further into the hot tub, letting the jets and heat do their job on your sore body.

as the sun started setting through the kitchen window, the pain of your earlier incident was only getting worse, and you could barley move without hissing in pain.

after the 8th groan of discomfort during jim carey's grinch, your mom suggested the hot tub. after all what good were you trying to put presents under the tree if you couldn't even bend over to pick them up.

the almost instant relief from the hot tub was enough to have you moaning out, submerging up to your shoulders and letting the water splash up your neck.

a beat passes and the sliding door sounds, opening into the cool night. "hey, got the presents from my car." nico stands by the entrance, peering through the dimly lit deck over in your direction.

"did you give them to tammy?" you question gently.

"I did." nico hums, gently shutting the door behind him. "you okay in there?"

"getting there." you sigh, eyes carefully watching as nico makes his way through the covered deck—no doubt the cold snow covering his feet in the slides he’d slipped on before getting the presents.

"anything you need from me?"

the nighttime pain reliever you’ve been popping since getting back from the lodge has you feeling a bit sleepy and loopy—completely erasing any kind of filter you have. you raise a brow, squinting at him through the mist coming off the water. "I want you to get in."

he laughs gently, resting his hands against the edge of the tub as he looks over at you. nico takes his lip between his teeth briefly, eyes flickering over your submerged figure. "didn't bring a bathing suit."

"nico." you whine, dragging his name out.

"you can't get upset with me," he smirks, "you didn't tell me there'd be a hot tub."

"okay, well just strip down into your underwear and get in." you breathe, "promise I won't look." you hold your hand up like you’re in scouts, looking up at him with most puppy-dog expression you can manage.

"y/n..." he trails off, almost like a gentle warning.

you continue. "i'll even let you have one of my three towels afterwards so you don't have walk back inside in just your underwear.”

his brows pull together. "why did you bring three towels?"

"I like to be extra warm—just get in."

a moment passes—practically watching the gears turn in nico’s head as he debates your ask. just when you think you’ll have to beg again, desperate to have nico close to you, he sighs, pushing off the edge of the hot tub. in one swift motion he pulls his hoodie off, his muscles flexing beneath his rising t-shirt, exposing nico’s hard v-line and happy trail.

you smile in satisfaction, watching as he continues to shed his clothes until he's left in just his black boxer shorts. you try your best to not stare—you really do—but when your fake boyfriend happens to be that muscular and hot, it's hard to keep your eyes away.

he quickly steps into the steaming hot tub, joining you under the water. "happy?"

you smile triumphantly. "very much. I feel better already."

"I bet you do."

a beat passes, only the sound of the running jets to be heard through the night. it's very relaxing, and with nico with you it now feels 10 times better. under the water you extend your leg until your foot gently nudges his leg—grabbing his attention. "thank you again for today. for everything, I just...i'm really happy that dougie called you for me. because I would've been too nervous to ask you myself."

his brows raise. "why would you have been nervous?”

shyly, you shrug. "I don't know, I just didn't want you to think I was...taking advantage of you or something."

"I wouldn't have thought that—I don't think that." nico moves closer to you, the warm water sloshing around slightly as he comes to a stop in the seat beside you. instinctively you turn your body towards him, eyes curious and knowing all at once.

a beat passes.

"did you know when I was a kid on christmas eve I used to convince my sister that if she didn't let me have her last advent chocolate santa wouldn't come."

you grin. "you didn't."

he laughs. "I so did. and I remember feeling like such a badass about it to. then when she found out that santa wasn't real and I was simply just conning her into an extra chocolate she lost it—and I mean lost it."

"what did she do?"

"obviously she told my parents, which was expected." nico hums. "but she also smashed my game system—like completely destroyed it with our dads hammer."

you gasp, "no."

"yeah and I cried like a baby."

you laugh gently.

nico continues. "looking back now I definitely shouldn't of been so sneaky. and now every christmas I always buy her an advent calendar as an apology."

"that's kind of cute." you coo sweetly.

his eyes soften at the sound, watching your head tilt in admiration. "you would really like her. you two are kind of similar."

you stifle a knowing laugh. "after hearing how she smashed your gaming stuff I think I have to agree—one year I sent taylor's favourite scarf for a trip in the fireplace."

nico snickers, "you little rebel."

"don't laugh," you smile. "she had taken my favourite babydoll I'd opened that christmas and covered the entire face in marker. so instead of going to my parents like I should have, I just threw her scarf right in the fire."

"damn," he breathes. "remind me not to steal your baby dolls."

"oh since then i've kept them all locked away, so you'll never find them." your eyes glisten with a playful shimmer, looking at nico teasingly. he mimics your lighthearted expression, a warm smile pulling on his lips.

your eyes wander to his exposed arm, catching sight of the familiar pattern of ink on his inner arm. "i've always like this one." slowly you reach out, tracing the tattoo with a wet finger.

"yeah?" he watches the way your touch moves over the artwork, your fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps on his skin—despite the heat from the hot tub, chills run over his body.

"yeah." you nod. "does it mean anything?"

"it's my families star signs," he points to the first one, tracing the greek symbol. "they all bleed into one another, almost like it's representing a family line."

“nico that’s…really cool.” you smile gently. "when did you get it?"

he laughs gently, a blush coating his cheekbones. "long time ago."

you snicker, eyes flickering back towards his face and away from the sentimental tattoo on his string bicep. “alright old man.”

he quirks a brows at you, amused. "we're the same age."

playfully you shush him, bringing your finger towards his plump lips in a silencing motion.

quickly, nico grabs your wrist, pulling your tiny hand away from his face. his firm yet teasing grasp around your hand sends your skin into a flurry of flames, igniting under his warm palm.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your pouty lips as if he can't decide where to look—what to do.

you lean in ever so slightly, scared that if you move too suddenly you'll wake up from a dream. nico's hold on your hand changes, fingers trailing down your wrist and off your arm.

his hand finds your slick thigh under the bubbly water, and your heart feels like it's going to jump out from your ribcage with how hard and intensely its beating. as nico's thumb begins to rub along your skin, pleasantly tickling your thigh, you think you may just die.

your hand inches towards his torso under the water, your fingernails just scraping softly against his abs—

"I should get out." nico mumbles. "I haven't packed yet and I gotta leave before 9."

you swallow the disappointment you're feeling, blinking away your emotions as you pull your hand away. "yeah. sure."

he gets out of the hot tub, and you can't even watch him as he does. nico wraps himself in one of your towels before gently looking back towards you. "i'll see you inside, okay?"

you hum in acknowledgment.

and then he leaves.

you mope in the hot tub a little bit longer than expected, and by the time you finally drag yourself back inside the only person awake is your mom.

she sits on the couch silently, finishing up some last minute wrapping of what seems like a gift for brody—some football jersey for a team you don't recognize. "feel better honey?" she asks.

you nod once. "yeah, thanks." you start to walk further into the home, towards the stairs, but your mom stops you, calling out your name quietly.

"before you go upstairs," she sighs, "I just wanted to say i'm sorry about scott. I shouldn't have even put that idea in your head when I called you and I shouldn't have invited him and susan around the that times I did. he was not only disrespectful towards you, but he was disrespectful towards nico and your relationship."

your chest warms. "thanks mom. it's okay."

"but I already invited them for breakfast after presents tomorrow—honestly susan is kind of a bitch and the last thing I need is for her to fuck me over to corporate because I didn't have her and her asshole son over for breakfast."

you snort, which has your mom joining in on the hushed laughter. you're truly not upset about that, and if anything the whole thing is so authentically your mom that you're almost glad she invited them.

just when you think she's done, your mom continues with a twinkle in her eyes. "I must say y/n, I've never seen you happier or more comfortable in a relationship that what i'm seeing when you're with nico. honey I don't know why it took you so long to realize there was something more between you, because nico is special."

you feel tears well up in your eyes, a million unsure emotions coming to a tilt in your throat. you nod. "yeah. he is."

DAY 4

"do you really have to go?" taylor's tiny voice wobbles with emotion slightly, looking up at nico with her wide animated eyes.

he crouches down to her level, soft gaze unwavering. "unfortunately. I have to work tomorrow.”

"okayyyy." she pouts. "maybe next time you can bring your stuffies for the tea party."

"that's a great idea." he grins at the way your nieces face lights up, already giddy at the thought of the next party.

your mom suddenly cooes, moving towards the front door where nico stands with his suitcase. she frowns at him, "honey thank you so much for coming, you've been wonderful."

he stands to his full height, embracing your mom as she wraps her arms around him in a familiar hug. "thank you for having me."

you watch silently, gnawing the skin around your thumb anxiously. you'd been dreading this since you were awoken at 7 by your niece for presents, and saying goodbye to nico today was weighing on you heavily—even with the lingering unspoken words from last nights abrupt departure.

"safe driving, nico." tammy smiles towards him kindly.

brody chimes in, "yeah man, can't have you going down. the devils need you."

your fake boyfriend laughs gently, nodding. "i'll try my best to get home in one piece." then nico's eyes flicker towards you, a soft yet sad expression pulling at his face. he takes a deep breathe, plastering on a bigger smile. "i'll see you when you're home."

you nod, your own forced smile on. "i'll see you then, nico." there’s an unspoken meaning with the goodbye—one that feels permanent and you hate it. with one more emotional glance in your direction nico waves goodbye to your family….and then he leaves.

the hallow feeling that runs through your bones is almost painful, your eyes trained on the spot he was just standing. a million feelings run through you at once—hurt, anger, confusion, warmth, guilt. it's all one big stressful ball, but yet somehow through all that you know there's real feelings for your friend there, ones that have been making your heart run ramped and your stomach flip around with butterflies for years.

"hey," scott's quiet voice interrupts your thoughts, looking over at you with flirtatious eyes. "if things with lover boy don't work out, ill be here." you’d honestly forgot him and susan were here, arriving just after taylor had tore through all her presents for breakfast.

it had you rushing to open your present from nico—because of course he bought you a present—his jersey and a handbag you’d been wanting for years. a handbag that only bree knew you loved, meaning that he talked to your best friend to get you the perfect christmas gift.

and yeah…you really like nico hischier.

blinking out of your thoughts, you properly turn and face scott. "that will never happen."

you look around the room at your family, who have now all resumed their normal routine throughout the home. taylor’s making your brother-in-law open every new toy so she could play with them, while your mom and susan busy themselves in the kitchen, talking while the kettle boils for another round of coffee.

you catch tammy's eyes and she nods—knowingly. you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, and a tiny smile begins to pull at your lips. "i'll be right back." you mutter, and before you even realize what you're doing, you slip on somebodies slides, leaving out the front door.

the wind blows right though your gingerbread pyjamas, the cold biting against your skin—but you don't care as the only thing you can think about is him. "nico!"

the sound of your voice has him pausing, rounding from the back of his vehicle where he was loading his suitcase in. nico’s brows pull together tightly, looking and feeling rather confused as you hurriedly make your way towards him—merely slipping out of your shoes as you hit a patch of ice.

"what are you doing?" he questions.

"don't go." you words a rushed, looking up at him with a shy confidence in your eyes.

nico sighs quietly. "I don't really have a choice."

you shake your head, eyes closing in frustration. "I know - fuck don't don't go just stay...for a second."

"what are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I like you - like really like you." finally you break, looking towards nico with nothing but vulnerability on your face. "and I think deep down I always knew that, but something about this weekend...watching you interact with my family and seeing how much they like you—it's amplified everything to 100."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying your best at keeping your voice steady as you continue. "and I really didn't think i'd be chasing after a guy in my pyjamas this weekend, but here I am. because you're not just some guy, nico. you're the guy. and I can't let you leave without saying that because I don't think i'll ever have the courage to say it again."

nico swallows. "I can't believe you just told me that." he pauses, a small laugh bubbling past his lips. "and right when I have to leave. because now I really want to stay."

you let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding, relief rushing over you body at his words.

he continues. "I like you so much it's not even funny."

"you do?" you question shyly.

"yes." nico takes a step towards you, now close enough to reach out and touch. "you're my favourite."

"favourite what?" you whisper.

"everything." he reaches out, gently taking ahold of your face between his cold palms. his thumbs stoke along your cheeks comfortingly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes as his gaze moves towards your lips. "what was the rule about kissing again?"

you inhale sharply, your own eyes watching nico's lips inch closer and closer towards yours. "only if absolutely necessary."

"thought so." nico's words are mumbled between you, lips brushing against yours before he finally closes the gap, connecting your mouths in a much desired kiss.

in that moment it's hard to think about anything other than the skillful and practiced kisses nico is giving you, his hand nestled at the base of your skull as he holds you to him, but one thing you do know is that you should've done this fake boyfriend thing years ago.

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cuteandhughesy · 7 months ago

Text

The Great War | Jack Hughes

summary: during a friends getaway to the hughes lake house, you are faced with the ongoing struggle of trying to get along with the middle hughes brother. the 3 times you were sure you and jack hated each other + the 2 times you aren’t so sure.

[word count] 11.7k

🎵 the great war by taylor swift

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one: the drive

"It's too early." ashley’s voice is an exhausted whine, and you look over just as she dramatically drops her forehead to the purple suitcase sitting infront of her.

you roll your eyes gently, very much used to your best friends distaste in early morning conversations and wake up times. you can’t say you’re the biggest fan of waiting on the grand stairs outside luke and jack hughes’ apartment building at 8 a.m., but the reasoning for the early wake up call was one that you were a fan of.

you met luke hughes in your shared freshman year at the university of michigan, and you had both hit it off instantly - becoming quick friends. since then, you and your friend ashley had always been invited to spend a week of summer vacation at the hughes’ michigan lake house and every year, without fail, you’d all get together and drive up.

ashley groans again, and the sound has you breathing out in a quiet laughter. your fingers drum against the smooth stone steps beneath you, your head lolling over to look at her properly. “it’s only 8, ash “

the brunette throws her head backwards, an even louder noise of displeasure leaving her small body. “yeah, way too early.” she stretches out her tan legs, nudging the suitcase out of the way with a painted toenail. ashley rolls her shoulder a few times and huffs obnoxiously. “what the hell is taking them so long?”

you frown, “I’m not sure. luke said they were on their way down a few minutes ago.” you glance over your shoulder and in the direction of the grand apartment doors behind you, trying to catch a glance of luke or anybody else you know. "maybe-"

"hello ladies" trevor zegras pushes open the doors, sauntering out from the apartment complex and over towards you and ashley. he’s sporting his usual sneaky grin, and there’s an expensive pair of black sunglasses covering his bright eyes - you couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they were crinkled at the corners as he continued to grin.

just like ducks, the rest of the group follows trevor, making their way towards the three of you from the entrance of the building. you recognize pretty much everyone, saved from a face towards the back of your friend group that you’re unfamiliar with.

trevor pulls you get up, one of his strong arms effortlessly bringing you to your feet from where you previously lounged on the ground. you see alex tourcette help ashley up beside you, the kings forward narrowly missing tripping over the suitcase ashley had pushed away earlier.

beatrice, luke’s girlfriend is breathing a heavy, trying to catch her breath as she stands with her hands held firmly against her hips. she gives trevor a stink eye, wetting her dry lips. “trevor we told you not to run.”

“where’s the fun in that?” trevor laughs unashamed. immediately his exterior had you smiling, the sour attitude from the early morning long forgotten as you listen to quinn and trevor begin to bicker.

like you and ashley, trevor was another honorary hughes lake house member and was always bringing the lighthearted fun to your vacation week - ever since you met him, trevor has always been one of your favourite people.

“why you were so excited to get out here is a mystery to me dude, not like there’s anyone worth while out here.” for the first time, jack makes his presence known but not without the cruel comment which you knew he was directing at you.

you roll your eyes, typical. you and jack, for lack of a better word, despised one another. ever since luke introduced you to his superstar brother, you did not like him. maybe it was his sour attitude or the fact he always seemed like he couldn’t care less about you or anything you said - you’re not sure why. all you’re sure of is the strong feeling of needing to rip his head off and how it’s growing stronger everytime you have to spend time near him.

"i'm in vacation mode dude," trevor chuckles.

"same here!" an unfamiliar female laugh follows the preach, and it quickly has your attention. she's like ridiculously beautiful - the kind of beautiful that you're not even jealous of but instead you're just amazed by. the girl stands confidently beside jack, her blonde hair tied back into a low bun and her simple gold jewelry catches the sun so it looks likes she's glowing.

beatrice says something along the lines of feeling excited about wearing her new bathing suit, but you're too distracted by the mystery's girls sweet laugh, perfect teeth....and the way jack just seemed so enamoured by her. you watch as he looks down at her softly, his tongue wetting his plump bottom lip as he does. you've never physically seen jack look so kindly at someone, and the feeling is a bit foreign - weighing oddly on your chest.

quinn claps his hands together, and the sound has you blinking hard, quickly looking away from the middle hughes brother and the mystery model and finding quinn - who's clap affectively grabbed the attention of the large group. "Okay, less cars the better - i'm thinking two vehicles max. who's up for driving?"

"my cars here," beatrice smiles gently, her delicate hand raising as she gathers the attention. jack follows suit, telling everyone he filled his trucks tank the day prior and was ready for the hour drive up to the lake house.

at that, trevor immediately makes a b-line for the truck, which coincidentally was parked towards the front of the gated parking unit. "let's get going!" he tosses his bag into the open trunk just as it begins to open, because yes jack of course has one of those fancy vehicles that's trunks open with a push of a button.

you watch as ashley is whisked away by beatrice, the chatty brunette already talking about the things she had planned for the three of you to do while you were at the lake house. you just catch the end of beatrice mentioning a hiking trail before the sound of rolling wheels on the suitcases overpower the conversation .

just as you make a move towards beatrice's mini car, already praying that you'll fit between the ridiculous amount of luggage, luke rushes past you, tucking himself behind the driver's seat just as beatrice and ashley get in the front.

you slow in your steps, a gentle frown taking over your face. you analyze the remaining seat, thinking of ways to move around the luggage and bags to make room for yourself - but your thoughts are halted as alex jumps into the car, effortlessly moving around the suitcase so he can sit comfortably behind the passenger seat.

you sigh, hands falling to your sides. "seriously guys?" the only one that seems to hear you is luke, the other three already arguing loudly over what songs to play and who exactly gets aux cord privileges.

luke shrugs his shoulders stiffly and shoots you an apologetic smile. "cars full."

you run a warm hand through your unbrushed hair - forgetting to comb so early in the day - and you readjust your black duffel bag along your exposed shoulder. "luke, I swear to god if you don't let me sit in your spot-"

"what? why should I move?" he counters, brows raised comically as he looks up at you.

you take a step closer to the jam packed cooper, crossing your arms unimpressed over your tank top covered chest. it feels a bit awkward with the bag weighing down your shoulder, practically rubbing your shoulder raw - but you don't care. "bea and ash - they're my friends."

he laughs, "bea is my girlfriend."

just as you go to further your point, ready to tell luke that there was no possible way you could ride in the other vehicle, the sound of a rumbling engine gets louder, signalling that the truck had come to a halt behind your back.

you feel yourself physically deflate but somehow you also feel like you're frozen. you knew what this whole car situation means, especially with luke being his usual stubborn self and refusing to offer you his spot (you'll definitely get him back for that later). with no other options, you'll have to ride in jack's truck.

the all too familiar voice of the middle hughes brother calls out to your turned back, a taunting undertone to his words that just make you want to get swallowed up by the ground and not go anywhere. "you need a ride?"

suddenly, the bustling chatter and laughter from beatrice's car comes to a halt, the three previously noisy passengers all going silent as their eyes all find you.

awkwardly, you turn around and your eyes connect with jack's past trevor's completely oblivious smile - scrolling leisurely on his phone. jack was leaning over the center console of his truck, his weight resting on his elbow as he looks at you through the passenger window.

you give beatrice's car one last look of defeat - to which ashley, finally realizing your predicament, shoots you a sympathetic look, and her smile is a mixture of guilt and sadness for you.

with a huff, you look back towards the truck and send a forced, borderline sarcastic, smile in jack's direction. "obviously." you grit through your clenched teeth, taking the two steps towards the truck and hastily pulling open the door.

jack's lips slink upwards into a smirk at your words, watching you gently as you clamber over quinn's large outstretched legs to get to the middle seat.

once you're comfortable (as comfortable as you can be in a confined space with jack hughes), the truck begins to move, jack pulling out of the gated apartment complex and onto the street.

10 minutes into the drive and you were still feeling pretty on edge. the vibes in the truck were anything short of awkward - to say the least. you could tell quinn was waiting and anticipating for you and jack to start bickering - his shoulder tense against yours. anytime jack said anything to trevor or sydney (the beautiful model that jack had brought along - who introduced herself as soon as jack pulled onto the freeway) , quinn would hold his breath, waiting for an argument to start.

sydney's sweet voice pulls you from your head, eyeing you brightly. "so, y/n, how do you know luke?"

you smile, "we got close at uni - my good friend used to hookup with one of his friends so we'd all hangout at their place."

"now we can't get rid of her." quinn's elbow hits your ribs teasingly, letting you know he was only joking.

sydney hums lightly, "and are you still in school?"

you nod in conformation. unlike luke, you weren't a nhl superstar who's time in college was cut short - you still had a year left of schooling and gymnastic training at michigan.

"and I think jack mentioned you do gymnastics, are you wanting to persue that?" sydney eyes you curiously, knawing her lip intuitively as she waits for a response.

immediately though, your brows pull together as you try and work out why jack would mention you at all. you clear your throat, unable to think of a reason why. "that's definitely the goal, hopefully i’m good enough."

trevor laughs, eyeing you over the high shoulder of the trucks seat. his eyes are blown wide, and he's looking at you with an expression mixed of disbelief and amusement at your words. "you're definitely good enough - hell anytime i've seen you compete i've been left in pure astonishment."

you smile, head dipping slightly as you turn red from the praise. you can be really hard on yourself when it comes to your athletics, so hearing other people compliment your hard work is always nice and you can't help but blush.

jack clears his throat gently, shuffling forward in his seat. it gatherers your attention, and your eyes meet his deep blue ones in the rearview mirror. they flicker away shortly after, focusing back on the highway. "so, y/n." jack begins, eyes finding your gaze in the mirror once again.

beside you, quinn deflates as he mumbles to himself. trevor groans in exhaustion, already covering his face to save himself from witnessing any possible argument that could occur.

jack looks at you over his shoulder, eyes darting over your frame quickly.

on your other side, sydney is clearly unaware of the tension growing between you and jack, and she pushes against his shoulder gently. "hey, eyes on the road, jack. I don't wanna die."

jack did what sydney asked and turns back towards the road to divert the breakage of traffic laws - but the odd look he's been sporting didn't fall from his lips. "how's it going with ethan? luke hasn't mentioned you two in awhile."

your face falls. you can't tell if you're going to start sobbing uncontrollably or if you're going reach out and strangle jack until he passes out. you knew for a fact that jack knew you and ethan had broken up, because luke told him only a few days ago (and luke told you he told his two oldest brothers to help you avoid any akward conversations).

but this is typical jack, you think. trevor had complemented you, which had you visibly joyful, and jack seemed like he wanted nothing but the opposite for you. he's seen you happy so now he planned to ruin your mood by bringing up your freshly new ex-boyfriend.

"dude.." trevor whispers in disbelief, side eyeing his friend.

"jack-" quinn starts, brows furrowed uncomfortably.

"you know we broke up." you tell him roughly. you hope to catch his eyes in the mirror again, wanting to desperately have some fucking eye contact while jack insists on bringing you down once again- but he keeps his gaze on the road. "and you know that because luke told you about what happened."

"I forgot," jack practically scoffs, and one of his hands shoots up in defence. "no need to get all worked up over it."

you huff, "and there's no need for you to be a complete asshole."

"how was I being an asshole?" he laughs out, his fingers flexing on the edge of the steering wheel as the truck shifts lanes. "i'm just asking about your life."

"no," you correct roughly, "you were trying to get a rise out of me and congratulations jack, it worked and now i'm annoyed." you spit unpleasantly. your palms are starting to become wet with sweat, and your body feels like it's on fire. you always felt that heat when you and jack argued - he just always gets you so worked up and unfortunately, he's way too good at doing it.

"i'm not responsible for how you react to my words, y/n."

"is this taylor swift?" trevor's loud words cut off any further conversation brewing between you and jack. he turns up the volume in the truck so that's it's borderline deafening, a clear indicator that he was sick of hearing you both bicker at one another.

your arms cross over your chest stubbornly and finally, you look away from the reflective rearview mirror - eyes finding the carpeted floor of the truck. you miss the look jack sends you though, an unidentifiable expression on his face.

trevor starts to belt out the chorus of you belong with me - sidney and even quinn joining in on the impromptu karaoke session. but you ignore it...all of it. you ignored how jack brought a stranger to the cabin (a very sweet stranger - but still), ignored how jack has already picked a fight with you and humiliated you, and ignored how you'd have to spend a whole vacation with jack on top of it all.

you're feeling a little frustrated in yourself as well. you were so sick of taking his obvious bait, and allowing yourself to get so worked up over him. from now on, you're going to try your best to bite your tongue and stay quiet in his presence.

"hey, y/n, wanna shoot a text to bea and tell them we're only 20 minutes away." trevor's words have you already feeling better and pulls you out of your own self inflicted misery. the other passengers beside you begin to cheer in excitement, and quinn bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly - which has you breaking into a grin.

through the surge of excitement, you can't help but let your eyes wander back towards the driver's seat - instinctively landing on jack. he looks so happy, his teeth practically sparkling in the summer sun as he giggles at something trevor says.

his hair has grown since the season came to a disappointing end, giving jack that care-free, messy look you always thought suited him best. you squint questionably, wondering how he could be so happy and unbothered after your mini fight - did he not even feel guilty that he'd upset you?

you look away, past quinn's firm chest and out the truck window - watching the bustling city highways and buildings turn into beautiful lakeside streets and summer homes.

you're now really looking forward to lounging by the lake and doing nothing for a few days - planning on being the bigger person and acting civil for the remainder of the vacation.

screw jack and his stupid truck.

two: the boat

it was early morning before you saw anybody, besides ashley, again. after your rather draining car ride, you weren't feeling up to mingling or barbecuing with anybody, so after some lame excuse of feeling sick, you sulked to yourself in bed for the remainder of the day.

jack had rolled his eyes and huffed loudly as you made your way up the stairs, but you didn't stop or make a comment - you ignored him and kept going. after all, you'd had enough jack for the day.

you quietly make your way into the kitchen, bare feet padding against the hardwood floor as you round the corner.

trevor is already in there, slowly spreading some butter on a borderline burnt bagel half. he looks up, and his eyes widen in suprise at the sight of you. he licks some butter of his thumb, and then wipes it against his bare chest. "shit, wasn't expecting you."

you move around him and open the fridge. your eyes quickly scan over the options before you decide on orange juice, grabbing the full carton and bringing it towards the kitchen island. "forget I was here already?" you tease once you retrieved a glass and begin to pour yourself some juice., shooting him a look.

"could never forget you." trevor smiles, taking an extremely large bite out of his bagel so that butter smears over his dimples.

you laugh before taking a sip from your glass, letting the citrus juice slide over your teeth and down your throat - clashing with the toothpaste left over in your mouth. regardless, it's still enjoyable and you hum in satisfaction.

trevor eyes you, "how can you drink that shit?" he's laughing slightly, but his lips are tugged into a frown of displeasure. "apple juice is way better."

"it's not," you scoff gently, eyes twinkling with amusement.

he nods, "it is. nobody here drinks that shit but you."

you frown gently, "really? nobody else likes orange juice?" trevor shakes his head no, taking another bite and poppy seeds go everywhere. you hum questionably, "why did they buy it then?"

"who knows," trevor shrugs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "ask quinn and jack - they went out shopping last night."

behind you, footsteps come bounding around the corner and into the kitchen. you glance towards the entry way just as jack walks in - he doesn't look up at first, too engrossed on his phone. like trevor, jack was also shirtless but instead of wearing pyjama bottoms like the anaheim ducks forward, he had on his bathing suit - a towel thrown over his shoulder.

he looks up from his phone and over at trevor, "quinn and I were thinking of heading out on the boat for a bit - bring some floaties and shit. you in?"

trevor lights up, dusting his hands free of any buttery bagel residue, "yeah man, let me get changed."

jack moves further into the kitchen, eyeing you and your cup of orange juice silently before moving past your body and opening one of the cupboards behind you.

silently, you roll your eyes at his typical rude behaviour. he didn't like you, that much was obvious, you weren't expecting him to ask you to join them on the boat anything- but could he not even greet you.

trevor turns back towards your direction, his brows raised questionably. "y/n, you coming?"

behind you, you can hear jack busing himself, but you knew he wasn't actually doing anything - he was subtly waiting to hear your answer to trevor's question.

so much was certain - you knew jack didn't want you there.

“sure,” you smile is exaggerated, and you can only hope jack is watching it with irritation. "I'll lay out and tan."

trevor grins, although his eyes widen in something that looks like fear at your wide smile. he pats the door frame twice, mumbling something about pennywise as he walks off.

as soon as he is out of sight, jack sighs. “of course.” his words are very quiet, but you knew he had no intent of keeping his words to himself - he wanted you to hear.

initially, you ignore him - working on finishing the banana you’d begin to peel when jack first walked into the kitchen.

jack sighs again - louder this time and you can practically hear his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you huff, spinning around slowly so that’s you’re facing the second oldest hughes. resting your hip against the edge of the granite counter top, you eye him - gaze full of question as well as knowing. “spit it out.”

his expression turns smug like he knew he could break you - and that just has your blood coming to a boil. you stay composed though, focusing your surge of anger on the chews of mushy fruit in between your teeth.

jack rests the heels of his palms against the opposite counter top - near the sink across from the island . he leans back, eyeing you with an almost teasing glimmer in his eyes. "I thought you would've shaved your legs before offering to lounge around in your bathing suit all day."

you sigh, tilting your head tauntingly in his direction. you had waxed your legs two days ago, so obviously there was nothing there but you know he’s just trying to push your buttons like usual.

you send him a sarcastic smile. "you’d like that wouldn't you."

jack tongues his cheek, and his gaze doesn’t leave you face - even when you push off the island and brush past him to throw your banana peel out. you smirk to yourself once you know that jack isn’t going to say anything back, and you go get changed.

10 minutes later, you and ashley make your way down to the dock where quinn, trevor, alex and jack are (impatiently) waiting.

at the sight of you, trevor groans with exasperation, "finally the princesses have arrived."

"whatever.” ashley mumbles, a sarcastic eye roll gracing her dark eyes. the la kings player is at the side of the boat quicker than you can process, eyeing your friend gently and offering his hand to her. she accepts the outstretched hand, and lets alex help her gracefully step off the wooden dock and into the boat.

alex tourcette has very obviously been crushing on ashley since trevor introduced them two years ago at the hughes lake house. it was alex’s first time there and the sight of ashley had him coming back every year since.

so like usual when ashley was around, alex was too wrapped up in all her glory - leaving you standing on the dock with your arms full of beach towels, a tote bag full of all your essentials, and trevor’s hat he’d forgotten inside.

“any help?” you ask, but the only thing you get is the view of trevor and ashley’s backs as they walk away. “hello?”

you think you’re going to have to just pray and make the step down - vision practically blocked from the plethora of things in your arms. just when you try and attempt, you catch jack look over at you.

but then after a second he looks away, his attention once again back on his phone. a moment passes, and you’re almost too in shock to say anything to him, because was he really about ignore you and let you try this by yourself? after seeing you struggling?

nobody else is moving to assist you. quinn and trevor are going over the depth reader set up and the manuals, and obviously, ashley and alex were busy being lovey dovey at the very front of the boat. nobody else knew your predicament.

jack suddenly groans and tosses his phone on the bench seat beside him. wordlessly, he gets up from his previous seated position and makes his way towards the part of the boat you were standing beside.

he places his hand out, his palm up in your direction. jack looks at you expectantly, his brows raised as he waits on you to make the next move.

you bite your tongue to stop any irritant comments from coming out, but you can’t control the way your eyes roll at his bluntness. you attempt to reach out for his hand, trying to balance all the stuff in the crook of your opposite elbow.

"hold on,” jack huffs tiredly, "pass me all the shit in your arms so you don't trip and fall into the water."

quietly, you load everything off and give it to jack - who then places it all near his cellphone on the bench seat behind him.

finally, jack takes your hand, and helps you stay steady as you step onto the boat. his fingers brush against your wrist delicately, the foreign feeling of his skin on yours providing and unfamiliar rush of feelings.

the tote bag you had chose to keep on your body, resting loosely on your shoulder, begins to slip down your arm as you step down onto the boat.

jack’s opposite hand darts out, grabbing the bag before it can fall off your arm - putting it back on your shoulder properly.

you look up at him, swallowing thickly. “thanks.”

jack walks away without a word, his touch that was, just seconds ago, all you could feel, was gone - leaving you feeling rather chilled under the blistering summer sun.

you huff, shaking your head clear of any thoughts of jack and his odd behaviour.

the boat took out onto the water just moments later, which helped in distracting your brain - the smell of fresh water and the wind on your face providing a new focus. it took quinn almost 15 minutes to find the ‘perfect spot’, before anchoring down near the sand bar he always ended up at anyways.

trevor and jack waste no time, and jump of the boat and into the michigan water while quinn was still dropping the anchor down into the water.

the idea of sitting with alex and ashley as the two of them cuddle and giggle to themselves was something you did not want to be witness to - so swimming it is. you quickly follow suit, stripping off your band tshirt turned cover up, leaving you in your bathing suit.

quinn rushes past you, cannonballing into the water. the commotion has trevor looking in the direction of the boat, watching as you throw your top into your bag - wiping the drops of water off your arms from quinn’s cannonball.

“looking hot, y/n!” trevor shouts at you, hands cupped around his mouth to further project his already loud voice.

you laugh warmly at his teasing as you make your way down towards the swimming platform - the last thing g you want to do is try and jump in and accidentally flash quinn, trevor and jack your nipple.

quinn laughs gently, pushing trevor under the water as a form of lackluster punishment for his degrading comment.

you swallow your laughter, and ignore the feeling of eyes on you as you begin to take the steps down into the water - quinn and trevor still laughing and bickering in the distance. the water is feeling cold from the temperature drop last night, and you quiver as you become fully emerged in the lake.

you practically doggy paddle towards the area of sand bar, and once you’re close enough, you grab onto quinn from behind - your small, cold hands gripping the muscles of his broad shoulders as you attempt to hold your torso above the water. "it's so cold, oh my god."

"you're fine," trevor insists, swimming up beside you, a small splash of water hitting your torso as he flicks it at you.

"trevor.” you warn sternly, pointing at him accusingly. “we’re not splashing.”

suddenly, quinn spins to face you and your hands slips off his wet shoulder from his sudden movement. the smirk on his face has your stomach dropping, and you take a step back through the water.

quinn sends a splash towards you, water sloshing up your arms and further wetting your bathing suit top. trevor continues and follows suit, soaking you with lake water as they splash you like children.

you try and escape the attack, backing away from them with your hands raised in an attempt at a surrender. “guys, seriously?!”

under the water, a piece of slimy seaweed is disturbed from your quick movements, and the green water plant grazes your calf. you screech at the foreign touch, hopping backwards to escape it. the water splashes up and around you at your quick and frantic jump, completely drenching you.

suddenly, your cold back come in contact with something unfamiliar- but not foreign. behind you, you feel warm skin tense and chest muscles move smoothly as you unexpectedly back into them.

you swallow, and you whip around and meet the harsh eyes of jack.

"careful," jack’s voice was calm, but still sharp like he was demanding something from you. it was like you were inconveniencing him by simply being in the same water as him, and his stern gaze was almost taunting as he looked over your face.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

jack doesn’t say anything else. he makes his way over to the back to the boat, and pulls himself out of the water and onto the swimming platform effortlessly. he shakes out his hair, water spraying all around him - the droplets reflecting brightly in the sun as they fall off him.

you look away, jack’s typical weird behaviour leaving you feeling rather annoyed.

jack didn't speak or even look in your direction for the remainder of the afternoon - a sour attitude radiating off of him for the rest of the boat outing.

when you all get back to shore a couple hours after departing, jack had gotten off the boat first, not bothering in helping with tying up the ropes or bringing up any loose stuff from inside the boat.

you watch as he walks up to the deck a few feet away, and immediately plops himself on top of sydney, who was laying on a lounge chair tanning.

you hear luke tell his brother to get a room as he flips burgers at the grill with beatrice at his side, and your mood is suddenly very sour. you exit the boat with a scowl on your face, your arms full of even more stuff than you brought down that morning - no thanks to jack and his no help.

you quickly walk pass the four of them on the back deck, shooting a harsh glare in jacks direction before heading inside.

three: the kitchen

when you excused yourself from the warm comfort of the bonfire to use the bathroom and grab yourself another seltzer, you weren't expecting to end up crying before making it back outside.

but here you are - warm, salty tears falling heavy on the screen of your phone. on your screen, the same video is replaying over again, the familiar sound of your ex boyfriends laugh ringing in your ears as you listen through dylan duke's snapchat story. it was an innocent post really, dylan was clueless to the activities going on behind him and mark as the two talked away on the private story. ethan was seen in the background, laughing with a girl before going in and cuddling into her neck.

the breakup, although you're not actively having romantic feelings, still hurt, and watching ethan move on wasn't the easiest thing to witness.

you sniffle quietly, watching the video play out once more before you exit snapchat - closing off the app roughly. you wipe your leaking nose with the back of your hand, cleaning yourself up of any salty tears.

behind you, the patio door creaks open and just as quickly, it closes. jack walks in behind you, his cheeks tinted red from the day outside in the sun.

you swallow thickly, swiftly looking away so he doesn't catch your puffy, red eyes. you almost want to laugh in this moment - because, of course it was jack of all people who would walk in when you're on the borderline of an emotional breakdown. you reach into the box of white claws left open on the island - not in the fridge because you preferred them warm (you'll have to thank whoever left them out for you).

just as you pull out your desired flavour, the sound of a bottle cap sounds on the counter top, followed by the sloshing sounds of jack pouring his hard liquor into a cup.

your eyes flicker up, watching jack's diet coke mix with the clear liquor at the bottom of his plastic cup. you can smell the woodsy bonfire smell off his clothes, mixing with his usual spicy cologne.

suddenly, he looks away from his drink and across the island at you. his eyes dart between yours, like he was analyzing your somber expression - then his gaze moves around your face, noticing your blotchy cheeks and pink puffy lips. jack looks away for a second, brows pulling tight as he completes his drink. "why are you crying this time?”

the sound of your full can hitting the counter top echoes throughout the empty house and jack looks up rather quickly, meeting your eyes again. your shoulders deflate - too disappointed to even feel proper anger. "seriously?" you sigh, and your tone clearly indicates that you're feeling upset by his question.

jack shrugs once, wiping up some melted ice with one of the crumpled napkins that had been abandoned on the kitchen island. "well?" his words are knowing- his tone condescending.

you feel yourself beginning to tear up for the second time tonight, expect for some reason the tears currently threatening to fall felt more painful than the ones from ethan. jack doesn't say anything else and only looks at you expectantly- waiting for you to further breakdown.

you huff - all earlier feelings of sadness are quickly replaced with irritation and frustration caused by jack and his insufferable attitude towards you. "why do you treat me so terribly, jack? fuck," you sigh, wiping at your face angrily as you feel a few unwanted tears fall. "I came on this vacation to try and relax and forget about the past few weeks by spending time with my friends, and you have made it your mission to keep me miserable. god, even your girlfriend has been treating me better than you have, and she's a stranger." you finish roughly, swallowing thickly as you try and gauge jack's face for his reaction to your outburst.

you feel a little embarrassed about ranting about your emotions and anger towards jack...to jack. but you hold your ground, keeping you gaze on him.

jack clears his throat thickly. "she's not my girlfriend."

you laugh in disbelief, the sound mixing with a scoff. is that all he had to say? no apology? no reasoning for his seemingly amplified hate towards you this vacation? jack looks away from your somber face, and you have all the answers you need.

without another glance, you grab the white claw off the counter, the metal can scraping against the granite as you do so. you quickly make your way back outside, walking through the dimly lit backyard - saved from the fire pit glow.

you take your original seat on one of the blue campfire chairs, curling your legs under yourself as you look towards the roaring, tangerine flames. beside you, you can feel luke eyeing you curiously - trying to analyze your exhausted expression. you don't give him the satisfaction though, keeping your eyes trained on the fire as you take a sip of your drink.

roughly five minutes pass before jack comes back outside, no drink cup in sight. you watch through the light of the bonfire as he sits next to sydney, and the two of them exchange a brief conversation before sydney turns away from him completely- a look of disbelief on her face.

you see jack shrug grumpily just before you move your attention away from them - you've had plenty enough jack for the night.

it isn't ten minutes later you find yourself becoming overwhelmed with exhaustion and you excuse yourself from the dying bonfire to head up to bed.

four: the injury

your face scrunches up involuntarily, the strong taste of tequila burning and warming your throat as you down another shot.

once you manage to swallow the alcohol, you holler in your own mini celebration- the affects of many, many, many drinks controlling you and your actions completely.

on the speaker you’d placed somewhere in the backyard earlier into the late night, the familiar chords of a drake song begin to play, and you gasp happily. “I looooovvvvveeeee this song!” you drag out your wording, the sentence slurred together in a drunken manner.

trevor laughs at you near the dying bonfire, his head dropping in an amused embarrassment. a couple other laughs are heard nearby, but you don’t find yourself caring all that much. after your previous miserable night and another demeaning conversation with jack, you told yourself you’d allow yourself get more loose. you didn’t necessarily mean getting sloshed by yourself, but a win is a win.

you practically squeal in delight, coming to a skipping halt infront of the youngest hughes brother. you pout largely, “come dance with me lukey."

thankfully, luke is a good sport and allows you to take ahold of his hands and pull him out of his caping chair - although, he is the one is pulling himself up because drunk you is one misstep from completely toppling over. the corner of luke’s mouth quirks into a smirk as you wave his arms around for him - belting out the lyrics to the song without hesitation.

letting go of luke, you take a wobbly step onto the picnic table you’d been around all night, sidestepping the hoodie you’d been wearing before the alcohol warmed you up. your hips sway to the music, and you smile warmly. you spin around on the wooden planks, but your state has taken away all your sense of balance and stability, so you’re closer to the edge than you expected.

your foot slips over the edge, and you fall onto the gravelled surface of the fire pit area.

“oh shit.” trevor winces - luke had tried to catch you before you hit the ground but his reflex’s had failed him, and trevor is met with you laying uncomfortably on the gravel.

beside him, jack shoots up from his chair, a look of undeniable concern on his soft features. trevor stands as well, both of them making their way over to help in assisting you. everyone else had previously gone to bed, and if it was sober you seeing that trevor, luke and jack being the only options to help you in your current state- you’d shit your pants.

but you’re drunk, so all you can do is focus on the burning sensation on your skin and immediate ache all over your body. “ouch,” you whine. once you’re eyes focus again, you get a proper look at the palm of your hand, and the sight of the raw wound has tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

drunk, embarrassed and hurt wasn’t your best look.

trevor curses again, "luke help me find the first aid kit," he stands from his previous squatting position next to you as he finished checking you over, nudging the youngest brother on his thick shoulder.

before the two of them disappear from your sight, luke looks back at you sternly, pointing a finger at you. “stay here.”

you’re left with nobody but jack. the gravel is cool on your thighs, and the dwindling fire is doing nothing to warm your shivering muscles. tearily, you look over at jack. "i'm sorry," you sniff, eyes darting back down to examine your palm. blood is mixing with bits of dirt and minuscule stones, making your wound sting terribly. "I slipped really bad."

you look at him again, his crouched position making it easier for you to do so. jack’s brows pull together tightly, his gaze flickering over your blotchy face. “you're fine, y/n. stop crying."

despite the harsh tone, jack takes ahold of your hand gently - one of his hands wrapping along your wrist while the other cradles the underside of your hand.

he brings your wounded hand towards his face, and immediately starts gently blowing on your palm. the cool air from his mouth helps soothe the pain temporarily, and it helps keep your tears at ease.

the night air suddenly feels even colder, and the temperature drop combined with the cool air on your palm has you shifting uncomfortably - you were cold.

jack stops, his eye gentle but words still firm. "stay still."

you sniffle again, and wipe your leaky nose with the back of your good hand. "I wanna go inside i'm cold."

"yeah, okay.” jack sighs quickly, moving his body so that he’s able to help you properly get to your feet. his one hand still cradles your wounded hand, while his other wraps around the dip of your waist. the feeling of his torso on yours is rather comforting, and the heat of his body radiating through his sweatshirt instantly makes you feel warmer.

he shuts the back door with his foot, and the thump of it closing echos in the empty kitchen. jack lets go of you in favour of turning on the kitchen sink, and you’re pretty sure you pout at the loss of contact.

it doesn’t take long before the water runs to comfortable temperature, and jack brings your hand towards the stream - your palm angled upwards and slightly tilted so the warm water flushers the scrape.

you hiss through your teeth, muttering a curse. the sting has a new wave of tears prickling at your eyes, and you can feel your throat grow thick with emotion. "that really stings." you admit gently, using your shoulder to wipe away a tear as it falls from your bloodshot eye.

jack looks at you softly, nodding with an understanding expression. “I know," he whispers - a sweet, silent echo in the quiet house. his fingers flex around your wrist, running over your pulse point delicately. jack looks down, back at your hand, "you're doing good though."

you swallow harshly, blinking away the millions of emotions flowing freely through your body. jack has never been so gentle with you, or as kind to you as he is currently being. it is actually really nice and you find yourself smiling gently - despite the burning sensation on your hand.

trevor rounds the corner into the kitchen, luke following with the first aid kit tucked under his bicep. "I thought you were staying outside." luke says knowingly, eyeing the two of you suspiciously once he registers what is actually happening infront of his very eyes.

trevor sends the youngest hughes a look, both of them having the same confused expression on their faces.

"she was cold." jack interjects immediately, answering for you.

thankfully, there was nothing too deeply embedded in your raw skin, so the rest of the cleaning process went pretty smoothly. jack had helped dry your hand as gently as he possibly could with paper towel, and then luke had poured the peroxide onto the raw scratches. that had you wincing uncomfortably again, your head hitting against jack’s outer bicep as you dropped your gaze to the floor.

luke delicately wrapped your hand in a bandage, sighing gently as the whole ordeal of it all came to a close. "alrighty, let's get you to bed." trevor says tiredly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he begins to guide you through the kitchen.

just before you exit, you find jack’s gaze on you, his expression still gentle. you smile tightly, "thank you." your words are still a little slurred and you definitely sound tired, but jack can hear you just fine.

he nods once, a very small closed mouth smile making a brief appearance.

five: the hike + the dishes

the sound of nature around you was pure magic. you breathe in happily amidst your huffy exhale, continuing to walk on the beautiful hiking trail along side the hughes' lake property.

alex rushes past you, ashley following soon after as she tries to beat him in a foot race. you smile happily, watching alex turn on her and scoop ashley in his arms. she squeals delightfully, letting the hockey player manhandle her.

a pang of sadness hits your chest watching your friend so happy and infatuated with someone. you missed being in love and the feelings of want and need that came with it. you missed having somebody constantly in your corner and somebody waiting for you at home.

it wasn't that ethan was ever a bad boyfriend, but the relationship wasn't fulfilling enough. it was simply just easy - it lacked deep emotion and yearning.

you watch ashley blush as alex kisses her cheek quickly and you can't help but wish somebody was as obsessed with you as alex was with your best friend.

weirdly enough, it has you thinking about jack. when you woke up this morning with a blurry memory and a bandage around your hand, to say you were confused would be an understatement. you felt oddly peaceful among it all though, and that was even more worrisome.

luke told you that you'd fallen and scrapped your hand - which makes sense. but there was something else in the air, you could tell by the way luke and trevor seemed smug while you all ate breakfast, and how jack seemed especially quiet. jack had yet to make any unnecessarily rude comments today, which was of course nice - but weirdly enough it didn't feel right.

"let me get on your back," trevor comes up beside you, a wide grin on his tanned face. it pulls you from your thoughts, and you push down any lingering confusion about the off vibe from this morning.

you roll your eyes gently, but stop walking. you squat down slightly, locking your knees so trevor can climb on. "hop on trev."

he wastes no time getting onto your back, and you grunt out from the added weight to your body. you only make it twenty small, slow steps before tapping out - breathless with laughter.

trevor offers you a piggy back ride as an apology for borderline collapsing you under his weight, which you take happily. once you're secure, trevor instantly makes alex race with ashley on his back and of course alex complies - the four of you darting away on the trail.

from afar, luke breathes a pleasant laugh, watching the four of you run around like loose chickens. he falls into line with his second oldest brother, the two of them walking in a comfortable silence, finally without the constant pestering from trevor.

luke has noticed jacks sudden quietness, and he too is a bit confused on what exactly is going on. luke thinks jack must feel guilty for acting his typical way around you, and that's why jack has been more reserved today.

luke clears his throat gently, eyeing jack. "this is good for her, you know. she's been so sad recently because of ethan...i've been worried about her."

jack swallows, eyes trained in the distance. he watches you laugh at something ashley says - your body folding completely over and your mouth opening as you do that scream laugh you always do when something is truly funny. he tears his eyes away from you, gaze landing on the mud coloured path below his feet.

luke continues, "and listen jack, I know you hate her, and you guys have this uncomfortable bickering thing going on but- "

"I don't hate her," jack interrupts his brother sternly, "I've never hated her."

luke's brows twitch slightly, raising ever so subtly and he carefully studies his brothers expression, "okay, well, I don't think y/n knows that. and whatever you guys are doing, it makes her really sad - I can tell."

luke walks away, jogging to catch up with you all. he tells ashley he needs a turn on alex's back, which immediately starts another race conversation.

jack sighs, blinking up towards the trees. the conversation with his younger brother, combined with last night, really has the way he's been handling his emotions and actions towards you, not sitting right in his stomach. he feels extremely guilty, and he wishes he would of handled the situation differently.

jack looks away from the tree line, and finds you looking back at him softly over the line of your exposed shoulder. you look slightly confused, but jack can tell you're trying to hide your curiosity by keeping your face neutral.

he sighs to himself, and makes his way over to you and the rest of the group.

—

the sky is overcome with darkness, and a comfortable silence enveloped the inside of the lake house as 10 p.m. approached.

luke and beatrice were watching a movie with ashley and quinn downstairs in the den, trevor had been sleeping on the couch for the past hour, and alex had fallen asleep in his bedroom just 20 minutes ago - sydney even before that after she claimed she wasn't feeling well before dinner.

the silence was peaceful, and even as trevor begins to snore gently across from you, it's not a bothersome sound - it's familiar and comfortable.

you stand from your spot nestled under throws on the couch, leaving the living room and a sleeping trevor. the hike earlier had pretty much tired the majority of you out, and the ones who hadn't come on the hike were still tired from the sun they'd been in back at the house all day.

so although you were also ready for bed, you knew the dishes sitting in the sink from spaghetti dinner needed to be done. after all, it's the least you could do with the kind hospitality the hughes brothers had showed you on this vacation.

you've got soap suds up your forearms as you work on the large plates - cleaning them of their saucy, cheesy mess. the hum on the refrigerator and the sound of impractical jokers from the living room tv provide the perfect white noise, and you find yourself getting lost in your own head as you washed the dishes.

footsteps approach gently, somebody rounding the corner behind you. "hi," jack says, slowing in his steps.

you look over your shoulder, "hi." you put the last clean plate into your designated clean side of the sink, and you wipe your pruned hands on your bottoms.

jack leans against the countertop, and the muscles in his forearms shift as he grips the edge of the granite. "if I knew you were doing dishes, I wouldn't of brought these down."

you notice the couple of small plates and the mug jack had put on the island counter, presumably from his bedroom upstairs.

you shrug gently, reaching across the small space between you and jack to grab the small stack of dishes. you shrug quickly, dropping them into your soapy side of the sink. "I don't mind."

jack rounds the side of the island and moves over towards you. his socked foot nudges against yours as jack borderline lunges across you, trying to take his dishes back. "i'm not going to make you do my dishes."

you laugh gently, "it's fine, really." you pick up the scratchy sponge, but jack snatches it out from your hands just as you do. you huff gently, one of your eyebrows raising in an amused manner. "jack, what are you doing?"

"i'll do them." he insists firmly. his fingers slide smoothly over yours, almost interlocking them under the soapy, warm water your hands are submerged under.

you don't give in, fingers tightening on rim of the new jersey devils branded coffee mug. with suspicion, you continue to eye him. "why are you being weird?"

he laughs once, a deep rumble of disbelief. "i'm not being weird."

"you are." you chime instantly.

jack is practically trying to pry your hands off the mug, and while he's focused on that task, you snatch the damp sponge back. you look at him smugly, waving the sponge infront of his face, a gentle ha passing your lips.

he sighs gently, "you're the one being a weirdo and doing my dishes after I said I can do them - you're not my maid."

you dip the sponge into the water and begin to scrub the coffee stains on the inside of the mug - soap splashing over the edge of the sink and wetting your pastel pink tank top. " I know that, but i'm trying to be a good guest."

jack watches you focus on the dishes, your eyebrows slightly furrowed and tongue poking out to wet your bottom lip. he finds himself mimicking you, and his own tongue licks over his lips to moisten them.

you look back up at him curiously, waiting for an inevitable response.

he clears his throat quietly, "you can be a good guest by doing nothing." without warning, he steps closer into your space, bumping you gently off to the side with his hip. the suprise of it all has you going freely, your hands leaving the dishes involuntarily. jack smiles teasingly, running the sponge over the front of a desert plate left from last nights chocolate brownies.

you huff, pushing your way back to the sink. jack's much stronger than you though, so he doesn't budge at your attempt to push him out of the way. in a mixture of amusement and disbelief, you laugh out, your hands resting on your hips as you look at jack - your eyes almost twinkling with delight. "that's not me - that’s not how I do things."

jack snickers knowingly, because he's well aware now of how you are. you've always shown compassion and caring for others and have always taken on that polite, motherly role that always has you thinking of others. it's something jack has inevitably always noticed when it came to you - he notices more about you than he allows himself to admit.

you reach into the sink quickly, taking the last two plates out of the dirty water and bringing them to your chest. immediately, your tank top is becoming soaked and drops of lukewarm water fall off the ceramic and hit the kitchen floor mat between you and jack.

jack looks at you with something similar to shock, his tongue poking against his cheek in a way to mask his growing smirk.

"you're ridiculous." he hums.

you back away slowly, the dishes still clutched in your hands. one of your brows raise challengingly, rounding the corner of the island counter. "yeah?"

jack's slinky smirk is the last thing you register before he darts towards you, coming around the other side of the island as he attempts to grab you.

you spin away from him, turning your torso around so that you've got the plates out of reach.

jack laughs, reaching around you in another attempt at grabbing the wet dishes - although now, the plates are becoming dry with your tank top soaking up all the water.

you giggle, and try to slip between the counter and jack's torso, quickly, to try and create some space between jack and the plates. it's an unsuccessful attempt, and jack pushes you against the island with his hips. now that you're trapped, jack plucks the plates right out of your grip, holding them out and away from you.

the press of his body on yours has you feeling syrupy - the time around you coming to a hard, screeching halt. you look up at him gently, watching as jack's previous smile falters, a much more serious expression taking over his flushed face.

you swallow, anticipating building low in your belly. your eyes don't leave jacks, even when his arm lowers, putting the plates on the counter with a gentle clink. your heartbeat increases, and you can feel it pumping loudly in your ears. in that moment, you and jack forget about everything- you forgot how trevor is only a room away, you forget the stupid arguments and the anger...it all fades into the background.

jacks tongue passes through his lips, wetting them slowly as he hovers over you. his eyes flicker between your eyes before finding your plump lips - slightly parted as a hitched breath is pulled between them.

just as softy, jack's hand comes up towards your face and he places it against your cheek, cradling your sunkissed, freckled skin. his palm is warm and a little sweaty, but it makes everything so much more raw.

his thumb strokes the shell of your ear gently, a little comforting movement that has you holding your breath.

jack leans down, nudging his sloped nose against yours sweetly before he kisses you deeply, lips enveloping yours in a tight, passionate embrace.

instantly, you find yourself grabbing ahold of jack, desperately needing to feel him under your hands. your fingers grip the material of his shirt, pulling him tightly so he becomes impossibly closer.

it was almost odd in a way, kissing somebody who before this very moment, you thought hated you. which was why you were left slightly confused on why kissing jack hughes felt so right.

your movements become more desperate- frantic. jack lifts you effortlessly, sitting you on top of the kitchen island. your legs spread instinctively, and he wastes to time slotting his body between your thighs. with his lips still messily on yours, jack pulls your hips to the edge of the counter, bumping your clothed crotches together.

between you, one of jacks hands rest on the edge of your waist band, two fingers dipping underneath the top of your leggings - teasing you.

you're body feels like it's on fire - that burning sensation you've always had around jack is just as prevalent as ever. when jack's hand slides down the threshold of your tights and he begins to palm you though your thin panties, you pull away mere inches, breathless.

"please," you whine quietly, bucking your hips so that jacks fingers slip over your wet underwear. it's successful, and he thumbs around your clit deliciously.

"fuck - i got you." he nods against you, hooking your panties off to the side underneath your leggings. he curses again as he slides his ring and middle finger through your folds, collecting your arousal and bringing it up towards your clit and down again.

you whine pathetically, head falling backwards - disconnecting your lips from jacks.

his free hand glides over your clothes chest, passing over your painfully hardened nipples, before he rounds to the back of your neck - pulling you back upwards so you're looking at him.

"you're so wet," he whispers, pressing a sloppy kiss to the junction of your neck. your pulse jumps, and your hips move again - desperately trying to get jack's fingers inside you.

you moan, watching the outline of jack's hand move against your core through your pants. it's all so dirty and erotic - you don't think you've ever been this turned on at the thought of being fingered.

jack shushes you, his usual demanding tone present. "be quiet for me pretty girl, okay? you think you can be quiet?"

you're completely at his mercy - not even having the slightest urge to tease him and bite back at his question. all you can do is nod quickly, breathless as you gaze into his warm eyes.

at that, two of jacks calloused fingertips tease your dripping entrance, feeling through the gush of your arousal. you bite your lip, holding onto the moans that are on the brink of passing through your lips. his eyes don't leave yours while he pushes the entire length of his tail fingers into you, and you gasp at the adrenaline of it all.

jack's mouth falls open slightly, basking in the feeling of your gooey walls tightly welcoming his fingers. he begins to pump them in and out of your entrance, and even with the limited space, it still feels amazing.

you grab his face, pulling jack in for another needy kiss. it's mostly hot breath and spit, but neither of you seem to mind.

the way jacks fingers expertly work your spongy walls and the feeling of his palm bumping your clit deliciously, has the tiny coil in your stomach tightening - ready to snap.

you pull back, "i'm going to cum."

"fuck," jack smirks quickly, so fast you can't even register it, and he leans back into you - pressing a sweet kiss to your blotchy cheek. "cum for me, baby, I can feel your pussy clenching down on me - you're so beautiful."

it's the final push you needed, the band snapping and sending your body over the edge into a euphoric state. you see white, releasing your juices all over jack's hand and wetting the seam of your leggings. you start to moan, but he silences you, pressing his wet lips against yours.

his fingers come to a slow stop, allowing you to ride out your blissed high. you hum against him, running a hand through his grown out hair, tugging gently at the roots.

jack moans into your mouth at the feeling, automatically grinding his hard dick against your wet crotch.

the couch creeks, and the sound of trevor's socked feet hit the hardwood floor loudly - signalling he's awake and on the move.

quickly, jack removes himself from between your legs, and you hop off the counter just as fast. your legs almost give out on you, but thankfully you catch yourself.

trevor walks into the kitchen just as you take ahold of the plates, bringing them back over to the sink in hopes to appear busy. he is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, a big yawn echoing through the kitchen- trevor's jaw cracking.

jack fixes his obvious hard-on, his back turned to his friend. he hopes trevor doesn't notice, and thankfully the ducks forward is too sleepy and can't even properly open his eyes.

"what are you two doing?" trevor hums curiously, moving past you in favour of grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

you can barley hear him over the thumping heartbeat in your ears - your hands are shaky under the now cold, soapy water in the sink.

"nothing, just cleaning up." thankfully, jack answers trevor in an appropriate way - seeming completely nonchalant.

as trevor opens the fridge in search of the brita, you quickly glance over your shoulder, seeking out jack. as you do, jack meets your eyes and he sends you a quick wink. the fridge clicks shut, and you both look away.

six: the beginning

there was something so peaceful about the sunset - you'd take it over the sunrise anytime of the year. the stunning shades of fuscha mixed with the dark reds and neon oranges - combining with the upcoming navy night sky. watching the world infront of you go to sleep was just so refreshing.

the evening was warm, and a light breeze slinked through the air providing the perfect temperature combination for an approaching summer evening. the wood of the dock is slightly harsh against your bare thighs, but you'll put up with it for some much needed time away from inside.

after jack fingering you on the kitchen island the night before, your mind has been reeling with what it all meant. you had come to your own realization that you weren't fighting with jack because you didn't like him - but rather the opposite. you've been seeking his approval for years, desperately wanting him to like you the way you've always liked him.

you had been pushing those feelings so deep down that when you came to the realization, you almost didn't believe yourself. you don't know what last night meant for jack, and you didn't know how jack actually felt about you.

this morning, when you were all gathered in the kitchen, snacking on your respective breakfast foods, jack had eyed you teasingly, hiding his growing smirk with the side of his cereal bowl. you had blushed into your glass of orange juice, choosing to not look back - too scared to get caught.

then you had thought about sydney, the girl jack had brought to the lake house to join your vacation. jack told you a few nights ago that they weren't dating, but they also didn't seem like just friends.

everything piling on top of one another was very quickly becoming overwhelming, and for the entire day you were left wallowing in your own confused thoughts.

so that's why as the sun began to set, you came out to the boat dock, resting quietly by yourself - trying to tame the tornado made up of thoughts and ideas in your head.

the sound of footsteps gently approach behind you, echoing against the faded wood. you turn down the taylor swift playing quietly on your phone until it's borderline silent, looking over your shoulder to find out who was making their way over to you.

jack smiles gently, looking very athletic in his black lulu shorts that displayed his thigh muscles delightfully, paired with a team branded tshirt. once he's close enough, he greets you gently before dropping down beside you. jack sits in a similar position, resting his forearms on his kneecaps, while you are hugging your legs to your chest.

it's silent for a few minutes, both of you bathing in the warm setting sunshine and basking in the comfortable silence each of your provided.

you choose to speak first, a slightly shaky exhale leaving your lips. "I don't know where to go from here, jack." you admit vulnerably, tearing your eyes away from the still water and looking over to him. "I mean, for years I thought you hated me and until last night I was set on that, but now...I don't even know what's going on." you laugh gently, tone thick with disbelief.

his brows pull together tightly, creating a little divet in the middle of his face. "I've never hated you...ever."

"then why did it feel like you did?"

jack watches the way your eyes gloss over, the moisture shining under the bright sun. he sighs gently, running a hand through his hair quickly - an attempt to try and relax his beating heart. "I thought that you hated me, y/n. so I would only argue with you because....I don't know, fuck." he curses, taking a shaky breath. "no - fuck this. I like you, really like you. so if you laughed at somebody else's jokes or if you were dating somebody else, I'd get so jealous that I would immediately go into this defensive zone- pushing you away with really horrible words."

he continues, "I was an asshole. I thought that you hated me and that made me mad, because I really wanted you. and I know that's a horrible excuse but it's the truth. I wanted you and thought I couldn't have you, so i'd lash out at you. i'm so sorry."

your breath hitches. you can't believe what you've just heard, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn't some longing dream you hadn't woke up from just yet. although his words seem authentic, you still feel weary. he could just be trying to get back in your pants, or maybe he was looking for some sadistic way to hurt you - maybe he actually did hate you. "how do I know you're not just saying this?"

jack laughs once gently, warm gaze looking out towards the water. he wets his lower lip before he looks back at your watery eyes and shaky lips. he sighs, "I didn't forget you and ethan broke up, I only asked because I wanted to make sure you didn't get back together - shitty, I know, but I couldn't think of another way to do it, I needed to know." he continues, "when I went grocery shopping with quinn, I was the one who picked out orange juice because I knew you liked it. I made sure nobody put the white claws in the fridge because I know you like your seltzers warm. when you hurt yourself by the fire pit, I blew on your scrape because I remember one time you told quinn that cool air always made your cuts feel better. I knew you'd be the one doing the dishes last night because you can never relax, so that's why I brought mine down - because any excuse to be near you, i’ll take."

you say his name, throat thick with emotion.

jack swallows thickly, voice dropping into a deep sigh. "I brought sydney here to try and make you jealous. and I know that's horrible, and I apologized to her a million times already. everything i've said to you and done to you is horrible, and i'm so fucking sorry."

"jack," you begin, "all that stuff you just said...I don't realize how well you know me."

he smiles gently, "I've had many years of watching you from a distance to learn."

your nose scrunches playfully, "that sounds really creepy."

he laughs, a real laugh that he usually only lets out around trevor and his brothers. but here he was, his shoulder brushing yours as he admits his feelings for you and laughs at your teasing. "it does doesn't it?"

you hum, shrugging your shoulders. "I can't say anything really, because i've been watching you from afar this whole time as well. I like you so much, jack. i'm so sorry for everything; the arguing, the rude comments and everything else. I should've just admitted my feelings - to you and myself."

he smiles, and the arm closest to you moves to wrap around your shoulders. jack brings your body into his, tucking you into his chiseled torso comfortably. "you're forgiven." his tone is teasing, and when you look up at him with a faux scowl, jack is already watching you playfully.

you pout your lips at him, feigning disappointment from his teasing comment.

jack rolls his eyes amusingly, and the last thing you see is his slinky smirk before he gives in and presses his lips to yours.

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#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #hockey imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl smut #nhl hockey #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fanfiction #new jersey devils imagine #hockey smut #hockey blurb #hockey fic #nhl blurb

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cuteandhughesy · 29 days ago

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Shatter Me With Your Touch | Anthony Stolarz

summary: your older brother mitch marner has only ever asked for one thing: never, under any circumstances, hook up with one of his teammates. and you're going strong....right until anthony stolarz shows up. (the 3 times you and anthony push the limits of your secret relationship, and the 1 time it bites you in the ass).

[word count] 4.7k

a/n: this is purely stemmed of this blurb—and you will be seeing the same scene in this story. I just knew I had to further explore this story line and share this cute and love story! plus there’s never enough stoly!

see my other brothers teammate 3 + 1 series here

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one

your brother mitch marner has always been protective. like the kind of stereotypical protective that makes you want to rip your hair right out of your scalp, and gauge your eyes out anytime you're at the family dinner table and he starts asking your boyfriend a million questions—questions that are nothing but patronizing. honestly, protective doesn't do it justice, unreasonably overprotective is a much better fit.

you're his younger sister, two years younger than him to be exact, and because of that age gap, mitch has always felt the need to look out for you and your feelings—especially when it comes to dating.

and it's not for no reason, because you? you've always been the kind of person who would give the shirt off your back if someone else was cold, and the kind of girl who would think bare minimum behaviour was god sent. you are almost too kind and forgiving. maybe even a little naive.

from a young age, mitch saw the way people took advantage of you and your kindness, and felt that it was his responsibility to keep you safe and out of harms way. when you started highschool—and begun dating and going out—mitch's protectiveness only got worse. no boy was good enough, even when they were. your brother would drive boys away with menacing looks, and what he called 'stern talkings'—which are also known as straight up threats.

high on changing hormones and left feeling trapped, it didn't take long into your junior year of highschool for you to break. you sat both your brothers down—because yes, they were both ridiculously protective—and begged for them to chill the fuck out. you yelled and cried and practically shook their shoulders until they agreed to relax.

christopher was never really the problem, so he backed off instantly. mitch though? he took a little bit of extra convincing. after you got to your knees and pleaded, he had sighed lowly, meeting your eyes before reluctantly nodding. but before you got too excited, mitch had said—"under one circumstance."

and that circumstance? you will never, under any circumstance, date his friends, and you certainly will never date his teammates. obviously, with this new found feeling of freedom and independence that came with mitch’s compliance, told your brother that he'd never have to worry about that.

and for years, everything was going according to plan. your and mitch's relationship grew into a friendship now that he felt he no longer needed to constantly hover over you, and you kept your dating pool out of mitch's circle of friends. it wasn't difficult considering most of mitch's friends where your friends, and you didn't see them in that way. and then when mitch started getting more serious about hockey, he barley went out or had his teammates over at the house—so you never had the chance to met them, never mind get to know them.

you can remember steph, all bleach blonde hair and bubbly grin, would beg for you to join her at the games. small hands pulling and tugging at your arm like an over excited kid in a toy store. but you weren't really interested at that point in your life. you were still a few years younger than them and with your last year of high school being so busy, frankly, you didn't the have time to sit at a cold arena for three hours.

"maybe you'll find a guy," steph used to tease, winking at you discreetly in the dim light of the family living room.

you always responded the same way, "im not into hockey players."

when mitch made it to the nhl, that's when you started going to games more often. your schedule was less hectic and more open, and you always jumped at the chance to spend time away from dorm rooms and frat guys. plus, you got to drink beers that mitch was paying for, and chat with steph about school and boys without the prying ears of your brothers or your parents.

as the years passed, and you and mitch got older, his dating rule or protectiveness over you never wavered. sure, he wasn't as intense as he once was—keeping his cool like you asked him too—but mitch never truly changed. he just became better at hiding it. and now with his life in the spotlight, your brother truly just wanted to keep you safe. from the media of course, but especially from the new group of sleazy guys that are coming in and out of toronto.

much to his relief, you never planned on rebuking mitch's dating rule. you had a job, and aspirations and went out with your own friends and found guys on your own accord. hockey players were long gone in your mind.

but then, anthony stolarz waltzed into toronto with a summer tan and a perfect smile and completely turned your world inside out. anthony is older than you, 6 years older than you to be precise—he's mature, but doesn't take himself too seriously. he's outgoing and sweet and fucking huge. seriously, he could crush your head with his bicep. anthony had introduced himself to you with a playful and intriguing gleam, and it instantly had you feeling…things.

anytime after that, if you were in anthony's presence, you automatically became flustered. it doesn't help that he always chose to sit next to you, and talk lowly to you, and smile at you from across the room. anthony's had all those new faces and teammates to spend time with, and yet he only seemed interested in spending time with you.

and steph? she knew you like him. your sister-in-law is your number one supporter but also your biggest enemy, you swear. anytime mitch or someone else in a room would mention anthony's name, or she would spot you and the net-minder within five feet of one other, steph was wiggling her brows at you and grinning like the devil.

and it's fine, you thought. it's just a stupid crush on a new, older man. you'd get over it. it's not reciprocated. that flurry of feelings you grew for anthony would soon blow over and you won't have to walk on eggshells around mitch anymore—too afraid that if you breathed the wrong way, your brother would find out about your embarrassing crush.

expect it was totally reciprocated, and after too many glasses of wine and access to a private bathroom at some fancy toronto bar after an important win, you and anthony snuck off—giggling like tipsy kids in between kisses and breathless moans as anthony's length slide through your gummy, arousal coated walls.

just when you thought it would be a one time thing—a one night stand that helped get your feelings for anthony out of your system—it happened again in a supply closet during a marner foundation event. and then again in anthony's car after you two went to dinner as 'just friends'. and then again in your apartment, and then his and before you realize it, you are having sex every other night.

and kissing and laughing and ordering in your favourite take out and watching movies together.

in the blink of an eye, anthony stolarz is your secret, older boyfriend.

in the first few months, you're both really good at keeping your relationship under wraps. you set struck rules for yourselves—like standing at separate ends of rooms, no longing stares in each others direction, no dates in public, and certainly no sneaky displays of affection in places where someone could see.

but as you fall more and more in love, it's harder to hold back, resulting in more than risky situations that might as well have you begging to get caught.

—

the chatter flows around you, warm and breezy, the contagious laughter of william nylander and rumbling voice of john tavares familiar sounds where they cut through the chimes of utensils on plates.

your dinner sits in front of you, mostly untouched, but not for a lack of hunger. in fact—you're starving, maybe just not for food. because with anthony beside you, looking extra large and delicious in comparison to the dining room chair he's sitting on—a dining room chair that isn't that small...he's just that big—it’s hard to focus on anything but him.

casually, you stab some of the mini roasted potato's with your fork, keeping your eyes trained on aryne tavares and jake mccabe’s wife on the other side of the table—the latter of the two women talking about some new palates class she's started.

everyone is either listening to her, and if not her, a different conversation that’s happening along the stretch of the tavares’ dining room table. without looking away from the girls, your free hand leaves your own lap, and ever so gentley—as if not to startle him— it finds anthony's knee.

you scratch along the taut muscles underneath his jeans soothingly. teasingly. each pass of your fingers climbing higher up his leg.

and anthony knows what you're doing. he's all too familiar with it. he fights off a smirk and the urge to look over at you, clearing his throat quietly before taking a large gulp of water. you’ve got him all hot and bothered and he’s definitely getting hard in his pants.

you catch the movement out of the corner of your eye and a grin grows across your face. flattening your hand on the top of his thigh, you let your pinky finger brush over his bulge like the little shit you are.

that makes anthony choke on his gulp of water, which gathers the attention of a few of the guys and their significant others around you.

quickly, before you get caught feeling up the newest leaf goal tender under the table, you bring your hand back to your lap—playful smirk never wavering.

"you good stoly?" max domi asks curiously, eyes squinted in a mixture of concern and humour. anthony can only hum while wiping the dribble of water from his chin with the back of his hand.

casually, you rest your chin on your palm—the same palm that was just on anthony's leg. your eyes flicker with something teasing, "yeah, everything okay?"

anthony lets out a short laugh, shooting you a look—a look that others may just think is friendly, but you recognize it as a warning. a wordless demand to behave. it only sends your stomach into a twirling thrill.

"yeah, just swallowed down the wrong hole."

but even still, anthony can't resist teasing you back once all eyes are once again distracted, ring finger slipping under your skirt and passing over your lacy underwear until you're biting down on your knuckles to ensure no sighs slip out.

steph shoots you a look, which makes anthony pull away—sporting a smug grin on his face as he chews the piece of asparagus he pushes past his upturned lips.

two

it's not very often you get tipsy at leaf games. usually you're too busy hiding your face behind your hands in a stressful manner, or entertaining the gangle of children running around the suite. but today, for some reason—and that reason being $1 beer night—you're not just tipsy, you're borderline hammered.

it takes steph a whole 10 minutes to get you out of the suite and down to the tunnel—coaxing you out of there with reassuring words and an amused glint in her eye. because yeah, drunk people are annoying—especially when the other party is sober—but you're so funny and floppy right now that it makes up for the amount of alcohol you consumed.

and when steph manages to finally get you down to the tunnel, and you lean you against the wall, and you stay there...she considers it a small victory. but that all changes when anthony makes his way out of the locker room, looking divine in his dark suit and hair damp from a shower—smile wide and high off a win.

you sigh dreamily, head rolling back against the concrete wall as you watch his movements. anthony hasn't spotted you yet—which is probably a good thing for your sake, because the sight of his eyes right now would send you into cardiac arrest. but then a frown is pulling at your lips. because pontus holmberg pulls his girl into his arms and kisses her, and you just want to act normal and be able to go up to your boyfriend. kiss him silly in front of everyone.

it wasn't uncommon for you to wait in the tunnels with steph after games, especially when you've driven to the rink together. which is the case nine times out of ten. typically after a win, steph would want to see mitch before heading home, especially because mitch likes to go out for dinner after good games.

so everytime you'd be waiting in the tunnels, you'd have to physically restrain yourself from runnning towards anthony. he will always smile at you when your eyes catch—definitely a little too sexy of a smile for trying to be discrete. but that was always it. besides some eye playful eye tag, neither of you ever pushed those boundaries.

not when your brother could walk out at any moment and catch you.

but once again, you're well passed tipsy, and you just want to love up on your man like all the other wags get to do. so before you can even think logically about your actions, your feet are moving, and moving in anthony's direction, heels clicking on the floor as you make your way through the lingering crowd.

and steph doesn't try and stop you. she just covers her eyes with an exhausted hand, blowing a quiet raspberry to herself as she represses a laugh. you told her about your secret relationship with the newest leaf goaltender 4 hours after that team dinner. because like usual, your sister in law read you like a book and had in incline before you even said anything.

anthony's in a casual conversation with morgan, completely unaware of the way your striding towards him—not until you're right in front of him and the defence man.

you wrap your hand around anthony's bicep, blinking up at him with glassy eyes just as you stumble on your own feet. if it wasn't for your hold on your boyfriends arm, you'd be halfway to the floor by now.

"hi," you beam unashamedly, glossy lips tempting him in ways you'll never understand.

anthony swallows, his bright eyes squinting down at you with amusement. he shoots a tentative glance at morgan, who is just stifling laughter like he knows—which, god damn it tessa, because obviously you had to tell her too and clearly she’s told her husband. "hi," anthony parrots after a beat.

"missed you," you slur, pushing up onto the toes of your heeled boots and puckering your lips expectantly, "can I have a kiss?" you hum, body swaying.

anthony laughs shortly, rubbing the back of his neck while he subtly scanning the room—checking to see if anyone is watching. more specifically, anybody who definitely shouldn't be watching. also known as mitch marner, who is one of the many people who still don't know about your relationship.

and for now, you'd like to keep it that way. not that drunk you cares though.

morgan has slipped away from you both now, and there's only a few lingering bodies left in the tunnel. anthony spots steph, now eyeing you sneakily. which means your brother is still here. in the locker room, yeah, but still here.

"we really shouldn't." anthony mumbles, eyes finding your glossy ones again. despite his words, anthony lets his hand wrap around your waist, keeping you against his chest to steady the drunk sway you have going on. slowly, he licks along his bottom lip, words no louder than a whisper, "your brother could catch us."

"so?" you huff, pushing even further up his body. clearly, you don’t give a damn. "just a quick kiss." you say, hands flat against his chest, still searching for a smooch. you're too happy on beer and in love to think about your brothers stupid rule right now. you couldn't care less about anything besides your gigantic, sexy boyfriend—who is grinning down at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to him.

and you are. more than the nhl. more than the stanley cup. more than breathing.

so quickly, anthony leans down, free hand enclosing on the side of your face as he tilts your head up, and connects your lips together. he's just a man after all, and with a pretty girl like you begging and blinking up at him, who's he to say no?

the kiss doesn't last nearly as long as you need it to, and you whine pathetically when anthony pulls away from your mouth. you're not caught, thankfully, and that only makes you want to kiss him over and over again.

"i'll see you later, kay?" anthony whispers softly, talking his hand off your hips once you drop back down to your heels.

you nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, "love you." you sing song dreamily.

he smirks, "love you too."

three

to say you and anthony became comfortable in the secrecy of your relationship was an understatement. you were really pushing your limits now, making out in the guest bathroom of auston's matthew's condo like a pair of porn stars—slow, syrupy and messy.

once you told steph and tessa about anthony, it wasn't soon after that the rest of the wags found out—all of them sworn to the upmost secrecy—and in turn, a lot of their men found out as well. which wasn't your most ideal situation, but after threatening to cut their balls off, they seemed to be able to keep their lips zipped.

that knowledge amongst the majority of the leafs roster definitely contributes to the more relaxed approach you and anthony find yourselves in, in regards to your relationship. you tell yourself that's the reason you decided to sneak off to the bathroom today—even though you would've ended up here regardless. anthony is looking way to sexy today to just ignore.

and you? you've been driving him insane all evening with your pretty skirt and top and the perfume clinging to your soft skin—perfume that smells like sex. anthony can't help but trail his lips down your taut neck, inhaling the smell like it's his own personal drug.

the sound of your breathless gasps and mewls quickly has anthony returning his mouth back to yours though. because you're truly irresistible to him. always have been. as soon as your lips are back in their familiar dance, everything else fades away. the distant chatter and rapid heart beats between you—none of that exists anymore.

anthony's large hand slides up the side of your bare thigh, lifting your skirt higher and higher up your leg, while his tongue prods the plump skin of your bottom lip. you allow him the entrance he's seeking instantly, which makes anthony smirk into the kiss.

the counter top is cool under your skin where you sit on top, making your arch away and further into anthony's hold. but he doesn't mind one bit—grabbing at your skin and pulling you even closer, your barley covered core rubbing against his and creating delicious friction.

it's erotic and dangerous and you really should've double checked that the door was locked. because the feeling of dread and anxiety that surges through your boood stream when that bathroom door is thrown open is other worldy.

anthony pulls off of your mouth just as you let out a breathless gasp, both of your heads turning towards the entry way.

"holy fuck—sorry." auston matthews familiar voice has turned high pitched, which can only be a result of embarrassment and surprise as he registers the scene in front of him. and just as quick as he opened the door, the captain is slamming it closed.

silence envelopes the bathroom once again—but you can't hear anything over the blood pumping in your ears. you're both frozen in place—you, on the bathroom counter, legs still spread and lips glistening with a mixture of your and anthony's saliva. and anthony, 5 steps away from you, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled and chest heaving.

once your brain catches up to what the fuck just happened, your quickly slipping off the counter. you stumble briefly, but that doesn't slow you down as you practically run after auston matthews.

you could try and deny it, but your actions speak for themselves. and what auston just saw? there's nothing in the world that you could say that would make it innocent. so that only leaves you with one other option: begging.

thankfully, auston didn't get far, and you catch him easily, fingers enclosing around his thick wrist to halt him. he spins around to face you, dark eyes still wide with disbelief and...maybe a little bit of amusement? it's hard to tell when you're so panicked.

"auston," you start, gaze all but frantic, "please please please, don't say anything about what you just saw to anyone. especially mitch. he doesn't know yet, and if this is how he finds out—"

"hey," auston interrupts with a short laugh. "calm down, you're stressing me out."

you blink what feels like a hundred times and you drop his arm. auston's gaze flickers over your shoulder briefly, eyes glimmering with something unknown. curious, you find the subject of his attention.

anthony is behind you, lips slightly parted as his gaze narrows in on the goal scorer. it's then you understand that look in auston's eyes—it's understanding. it's a promise to anthony's wordless plea.

"don't worry kid," auston says once you turn back towards him, "your secret is safe with me."

+one

the leafs have a rare off day today—only two days before their two week long road trip over on the west coast—which means that anthony had no other plans but to be with you. more specifically, in bed, taking turns with either licking into your pussy until you're making a mess on his tongue, or pounding into you until the headboard is smacking against the wall.

it's very rare that the two of you get to have alone time, never mind getting to have proper sex. so when this kind of opportunity arises, both of you are taking it without a second thought.

you can't complain really. not when your legs are over your boyfriends thick shoulders, his cock perfectly massaging your gummy walls as he thrusts into you. the sounds between you are lewd—slapping and squealing and desperate, needy pants and grunts.

you've gone dumb on anthony's cock as he splits you in two, your jaw slack and eyes glazed as you peer up at him. and anthony fucking loves it. his hand grips your jaw firmly, keeping your eyes trained on him. the pad of his thumb pulls down your bottom lip, slowly, as a smirk grows on his face.

"gunna miss you when i'm gone baby," he pants, movements never faltering, "i'm gunna miss your pretty pussy—fuck."

the only responses you can manage is another drawn out moan and your fingers gripping his bulging biceps even tighter.

—

mitch marner pushes the front door of your place open with his hip, too busy balancing your moms homemade casserole in his hands to open the door properly. it’s your favourite home cooked meal, ready to go in a glass dish, that bonnie marner insisted mitch drop off at yours before making his way home.

his car keys are held tightly between his lips, giving him limited opportunity to make a coherent sentence, but he calls out a muffled greeting to you regardless.

no response.

mitch's brows furrow as he puts the food dish on your kitchen island. he drops his phone and keys beside the dish before spinning on his heels, peering into the living room where you're normally hiding—tucked under some fluffy blanket with a book in your lap.

the books there, open and face down on the coffee table—blanket at the foot of the pink chair—but you're nowhere in sight. a rush of panic washes over your brother. mitch had texted you 10 minutes ago, just as he was leaving your parents, to tell you he'd be stopping by with a mountain of food, but he didn't get a response then.

and then once he got here, your front door wasn't even locked. which wouldn't of been that crazy if you knew mitch was on his way over, but your lack of response has mitch second guessing your knowledge of his arrival.

"y/n?" he calls your name again, spinning around for good measure to make sure he didn't miss you the first time.

it only then does he spot a pair of shoes next to your usual slip ons—shoes that are definitely way to big for you and definitely belong to a man. logic goes out the window in that moment because mitch hums curiously, walking down the hall towards your closed bedroom door.

mitch doesn't even hesitate before turning the handle, "y/n? who's here?—ah, what the fuck?!" your brothers words die on his tongue at the sight of you and his goaltender in bed...together...doing things that make mitch want to bleach his eyes out.

it's bad enough to walk in on a family member having sex, but when the guy pounding said family member just last night was laughing and chatting like nothing was happening, makes mitch fucking shiver. oh god, he literally congratulated anthony on his win last night. little did mitch know the real prize for anthony stolarz was getting to fuck mitch marner’s little sister.

"oh my god!" you shout, wrapping the floral bedsheet around your very naked torso. "get out!"

and mitch doesn't need to be told twice. the bedroom door slams shut—so loudly and with so much force that the pictures hanging on your wall shake. regardless of the door now being shut, mitch covers his eyes with his hand while he physically moans and cringes for extra measure.

"oh my god," his voice sounds from the hallway, all dramatic and whiny. "my eyes."

you and anthony share a look—a look that's a mixture of terror and concern. because not only does mitch now know that you’re together in this capacity, but he's also just seen his baby sister having sex. you jump out of bed, tangled in your bedding, and stomp towards the door.

you don't open it, not yet, but you smack the wood wildly. "mitchell, what are you doing here!"

"I was trying to drop off some of mom's casserole—I texted you! I can't believe what I just saw." the latter party of his scentence trails off, tone low like mitch is saying it to himself. mitch swallows dramatically, rubbing at his face. "I'm gunna puke."

you laugh in disbelief. "you're gunna puke? i'm going to die."

the springs of your mattress creak behind you as anthony gets out of bed. slipping on his boxers, he makes his way towards you—all broad and warm as anthony comes up to stand behind your bare, glistening back. he reaches for you, squeezing your bicep comfortingly.

guilt prickles at your skin, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth as a nervous habit—gnawing your plump skin until it feels sore. anthony kisses your head subconsciously, a gesture that calms you down just enough to enable you to squeak out an apology. "i'm sorry, mitchy."

emotion clogs your throat and it makes your brother sigh, hand falling from his scruff and hitting his leg with a soft thud. "don't cry, y/n."

ever so slowly, the door squeaks open—not fully though, mindful of the sheet covering you—and your head pokes out. your eyes are glassy and your lip wobbles and the protective older brother side of him wants nothing more than to fix this.

"are you mad at us?" you sniffle.

us.

through the slim space between the door and the frame, mitch has a harsh reminder that anthony stolarz is with you—his t-shirt strew across the bench at the end of your bed, his cologne clinging to the sheet around you. hell, mitch can see anthony’s fucking gigantic hand holding the back of your neck softly.

he's comforting you.

mitch sighs reluctantly. because yes, he's not thrilled with this entire situation, but clearly, anthony is a good guy—your brother has a front row seat to that—anthony is a man who clearly cares for you. "i'm more mad about you not knowing how to lock doors than anything else."

you breath hitches, a glimmer of something that feels like hope tickling your heart, "really?"

a slow nod, "yes." mitch's eyes fall over your body, or rather, your sheet, and he shivers again, turning away to give you privacy and himself some fucking peace of mind. "now just...get dressed and we can talk about it."

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #anthony stolarz imagine #anthony stolarz x reader #anthony stolarz smut #anthony stolarz #anthony stolarz blurb #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey x reader #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey smut #hockey fic

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cuteandhughesy · 1 month ago

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okay luke bringing his gf to the lake house with his brothers and he and reader are in jacuzzi and have to be sneaky hehehehehe

18+ themes

quinn and jack are only a wall away. both of them inside, barley paying attention to the fast&furious reruns on the tv, complete oblivious to what’s happened just outside the glass patio door.

luke’s got your bottoms pulled to the side under the bubbling jacuzzi water, his endowed and aching cock sliding in and out of your slick cunt easily. your ass is nestled on his pelvis perfectly, allowing him to not only trust into you shallow—yet effectively—but also, he’s able to make your exchange look a little innocent.

but god, is it every far from innocent.

you fall back against his slippery, bare chest, a small high pitched mewl leaving you as the head of luke’s cock smooshes against your sensitive cervix. he always knows how to hit the right spots.

the water is lapping the sides of the hot tub dangerously, threatening to spill and make a mess on the wooden deck beneath the tub. but neither of you care about the potential mess, not when your walls are wrapped so snug around his member—pulling him in deeper.

“fuck, feels so fucking good.” luke babbles against your cheek, pressing lazy kisses against your dewy, sweet skin. the arm around your middle pulls you back further, and the motion has the seam of your bottoms digging at your clit deliciously.

you moan again.

just when you think you’re about to reach your peak, mouth hung open and grinding down to meets luke’s trust like you have no control over your own body, the sound of laughter halts you.

it’s jack, bare feet padding along the wooden floorboards just on the other side of the door. you and luke both freeze, sitting up straighter with his length still hinted inside you.

his brother opens the door, completely oblivious to the lewd actions that are taking place under the fizzy water. “you guys want pizza? thinking about ordering in.”

luke clears his throat, and runs a hand—a hand that was previously gripping your tits and pawing your clit—through his curly, damp hair. “uh, sure, pizza sounds nice.”

jack looks at you, “y/n?”

you nod, a sickly sweet and sneaky grin pulling at your lips when you feels luke’s cock twitch and throb between your slick walls. “yes please.”

—

(unedited)

#❣️answered #🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #luke hughes smut #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader

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cuteandhughesy · 3 months ago

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Could you do a Matt Rempe fic where the reader basically just climbs him like a tree so she can look him in the eye? Full koala so she can examine his face (maybe he got his tin the face, maybe the reader just wanted to take a closer look at him).

here’s a lil blurb for this bc it’s too cute to not share - xo jules

“matt,” you call your boyfriends name lightly, knife slicing through one of the freshly peeled carrots for some chicken soup—the perfect meal for a cold new york afternoon. “can you come here for a minute?”

soon after you hear matt’s socked feet padding down the small hallway of your apartment, and he rounds into the kitchen knook with a small grin on his face. the rangers have an off day, which means you get the entire day with your boyfriend—between games and him getting sent down to the wolfpack, off days seems like a rarity.

he walks up behind you, wrapping his strong forearm around your waist and tugging you back until you’re flush with his stomach. matt had been thumbing through emails on your bed when you called for him, and spending time with you always beats reading ridiculous bills and sorting through work stuff.

“what’s up?” he questions, fingers flexing on your waist.

you tilt your head back, so far back it feels like your neck is breaking—because even though you’re not that short, matt is that tall. which don’t get me wrong, you love his height. it’s sexy and makes you feel constantly safe and secure, but when it comes to things like looking him in the eye…his height drives you bonkers.

“can you grab the container of seasoning from the top shelf? my brother put it up there when he was here last, and now I can’t reach it.” you ask, looking away from your boyfriend in favour of cubing the carrot sticks. “we can’t have soup without flavour. then it’s just vegetable water.”

the face you pull has matt barking a laugh, already releasing his hold on you to grab the tupperware container you shove full with packets of seasoning. he gently places it beside your cutting board, “you’re right—that’s a disgrace.”

you hum in agreement, scooping the carrots into you palms before adding them to your oversized pot—sitting ready on the stove top. you turn back around and begin stifling through the seasonings. “oregano, coriander, garlic powder, dried parsley…” you trail off, eyes flickering up to matt’s. “what do you want in there?”

he hums in thought, big arms crossing over his insanely broad chest as his head tilts back. you fight the urge to groan, wanting nothing more than to see his face. you drop the packets, and before you can think logically, you begin hiking up your boyfriend.

matt’s eyes widen, shooting down as you wrap your arms around his neck, using the leverage to haul your legs around his hips. instinctively his hands come to rest on your ass, keeping you tight against his torso.

you blink like nothing has changed in the past thirty seconds. you’re so close that your noses brush, and he can smell your floral perfume like you’ve just put it on. matt quirks an eyebrow, a smirk sliding up his mouth. “you okay babe?”

nodding, your thighs clench around his body. “yeah, just wanted to see your face better.”

he nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering down to your soft lips like he can’t help himself—and soon enough he’s leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to your mouth.

after that day it seems like you’d be climbing hin more often that not—not that matt’s complaining by any means. he can’t help but grow a little giddy when he gets cut in the face or has bags under his eyes, because matt knows you’ll be climbing up his large body to get a closer look…and who is he to deny you of that?

#❣️answered #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe blurb #matt rempe fanfic #matt rempe imagine #nhl blurb #new york rangers blurb #🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

Text

Crawling Back To You | Matthew Knies

summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au).

[word count] 19.9k (…whoops)

a/n: this idea randomly popped into my head before bed a few weeks ago and I immediately knew I had to write it. this is for the knies girlies (like yours truly) who can’t help themselves but fantasizing about him—I see you and I got you.

🎵 do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Prologue

lucas' arm around your hips is a firm pressure, guiding you through the crowded frat house like he's done many times before. you let him easily, smiling at friends as you pass by them.

your boyfriend doesn't really notice anybody else—too busy looking for his friends in the chaotic crowd. his fingers flex around the dip of your hip, squeezing you reassuringly. "you look nice babe."

he's told you that already tonight—when you'd showed up to his door so you could walk to the frat party together—which, is only down the hall from your door—regardless though, it's nice to hear. you tilt you head back to look at him, eyes lingering over his too-sharp jaw and icy gaze. "thanks lucas."

he hums softly, not looking at you as he continues to make way through the sea of sweat covered bodies. you sigh gently, gnawing on your gloss coated bottom lip, gaze flickering away from your boyfriend.

you and lucas have been dating for almost half a year—which in hindsight isn't that long, but when you're in university and spending every waking minute with a person, it soon feels like a lifetime. you met him in the mailroom of your shared apartment complex during the beginning of last term, and hit it off almost immediately.

lucas was flirty, and so sweet that it felt like your teeth were decaying. he was smart and played on the universities hockey team—it was hard not to fall for him. but as your brief honeymoon phase came to a close, lucas started to get a little...dull.

he doesn't make your heart race, and he doesn't have your stomach swooping with his stare or touch, and most of the time it feels like he doesn't have the time for you. but it's fine, because he's your boyfriend, and you care for him. it's just a bit...boring, and unfulfilling.

"babe." he starts again, glancing down at you. "were you able to book off that shift? the one during next game day?"

you frown, stopping in your shuffling steps. "lucas, I already told you that I couldn't."

your boyfriend stops as well, turning towards you with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "you did?"

you sigh, a bubble of irritation rising in your chest. "yes. this morning before class."

"seriously?" he all but huffs, dropping his hands from your waist. "I wanted you there."

"and like I told you this morning, there's nothing I can do about it." you've flushed with annoyance, looking at your boyfriend with a perplexed expression. it feels like you've been going in circles about this damn shift for days—and somehow everytime, lucas makes you feel like an asshole about it. you literally work at the arena, and as only 1 of 3 staff members for the concession stand, getting your shift covered was practically impossible.

his eyes flash with something similar to annoyance. "it feels like you don't even want to watch me play, y/n."

your eyes quickly dart around the room, gulping gently as you make sure nobody is watching the exchange between you and lucas—one that feels like it's on the tipping point of turning heated. your gaze flickers back to his, crossing your arms defensively. "are you seriously going to start this here? in front of everyone?"

despite your words, nobody is paying attention to the two of you—too drunk or high or both to have the awareness they needed to realize what's going on between you and the hockey teams assistant captain.

lucas sighs gently, eyes softening as he takes in your closed off, hard expression. "look," lucas grabs the sides of your face, holding you in place. "i'm sorry, okay?" your eyes drop, mind still reeling with annoyance about the whole situation. lucas thumb runs along your cheek, "we can talk about it later."

there's nothing to talk about, you think. i've already told you.

he leans in, searching for a kiss, but you turn your head just before your lips connect—lucas planting an unexpected peck to your cheek.

from a room over, matthew knies takes a sip of his beer, a smile pulling at his lips as his teammate loudly tells the group about his latest tinder date adventure—new flash, it went horrible. his teammate, gabe, wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to date, and after hearing all these different stories about how his dates went, matthew can't help but feel sorry for these girls.

sean, another member of the minnesota hockey team, nudges his elbow into matthew's side, subtly pulling his attention away from gabe and his loud mouth and comical expression—currently acting out how he'd opened the car door during said tinder date.

matthew's brows raise, looking at the tan complexion of his friend. "what's up?"

"looks like there's some trouble in paradise, huh?" sean then shifts his eyes out of the room, down into the even more crowded foyer and kitchen. matthew's eyes can't help but follow, landing upon his roommate, and another teammate of his, lucas.

but he's not alone—you're with him. matthew swallows roughly, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. he watches as lucas grabs your face, stroking the highest part of your cheek with his calloused thumb. there's a few rushed words exchanged between you, ones that matthew has no chance of hearing over the bustling party.

sean continues, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "what do you think they're fighting about?"

matthew watches as you dodge his friends kiss, your expression full of exhaustion and annoyance. he looks away from you, eyes finding sean's deep chocolate ones "probably something lucas started."

sean snorts. "probably—dude doesn't know what he's got."

matthew hums dismissively, taking an aggressive sip from his beer bottle. the tangy liquid fizzles against his tastebuds, the alcohol already making him feel lighter. he can't help the way his eyes find you again, watching the tail end of whatever argument you'd been in the midst of.

lucas pulls off you, a tiny roll of his eyes. but he wraps his arm around you again, pulling you further into the house and in the direction of the living room.

at the sight of lucas, a few of the guys get distracted, attention pulled from gabe and his ridiculous performance—all of them hollering in the blondes direction. the smile comes easy, and he releases you in favour of greeting everyone, bringing them into a side hug before slapping the muscle on their back.

you do your best to plaster on a smile as a couple of the guys girlfriends greet you warmly—madison, you closest WAG friend squeezes your arm from the couch beside you. you briefly wonder if she's seen the tiff you've just had with lucas.

but no, you can't think like that, if you do it'll just make you more anxious than usual. you gently shake your head, snapping yourself out of your own pity. you stand awkwardly beside the couch while lucas completely disappears into his friends, cheering and laughing as they all talk about their latest win. you blink again, this time to hold back unshed tears.

"hey girl, you wanna sit down?" another one of the wags asks you, her gentle, honey laced voice filtering through the noisy room. "you look a little out of it."

you laugh gently, blinking rapidly. "I don't think there's anywhere to sit." your words stem from truth, and as you glance around the collection of mangled, worn leather couches and stained lazy boys, the space is limited. you desperately wish lucas was a doting boyfriend—pulling you into his lap and pressing a reassuring kiss against the junction of your neck.

"you can sit here." his voice cuts through the air like a knife, sending a usual shiver through your body. you hadn't even realized matthew knies was here—but you should've suspected it when you didn't hear his usual rerun of new girl in his and lucas' shared apartment.

your eyes flicker to his, and then towards the sliver of space between him and sean. the couch is most definitely sticky, and the foam is practically spilling out the cushion—the sight has you squirming. parties have never been your thing, and you've never been one to be overly social—much preferring the silence and comfortability of your own space. if you were to go out on your own terms, you'd often opt for local bars or eateries, which usually provide a more relaxed and tone downed party atmosphere.

but lucas likes frats—so here you are. your eyes find matthew's again, and immediately you're feeling a familiar pull in your chest—one that always seems to tug in the presence of your boyfriends best friend. it's not that you hated matthew knies...it's just....he is one of your least favourite people to be around.

you're not sure when it started, but the combination of his cocky attitude and the way he seemed to always be pushing your buttons with that stupid smirk on his face, just has your blood boiling.

and you really try your best to ignore him, but as soon as his pestering starts, you just can't help but bite back.

he's looking at you with that slinky pull to his plump lips, likes he's expecting you to decline his offer and just turn tail and leave—which you are desperately trying not to do.

matthew's one eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. "you scared or somethin', y/l/n?" he takes a slow sip of his beer, adam's apple bobbing roughly under his clean shaven throat. he licks his lips, catching the lingering liquid. "I dont bite."

the use of your last name—how it so easily slips through his lips like a song—has you biting down, your teeth practically cracking under the intense pressure. all your earlier irritation has been quickly redirected to matthew, and you eye him pointedly. "doubtful."

his smirk widens.

you shoot a glance towards lucas, but to your disappointment he still hasn't realized you're standing alone—sitting comfortably between teammates and sipping from a mysterious seltzer can. slowly, you look back towards matthew, who's grin has yet to falter.

he pats the space between himself and sean, two slaps against the leather as he wordlessly invites you over.

you can't help the way your eyes roll.

sean watches the entire ordeal like a damn soap-opera, eyes darting between you and his friend next to him—hiding his amused smile behind the neck of his beer bottle.

with a gentle sigh, you make your way towards them, wordlessly taking a seat between the two athletes with an awkward cough. immediately you're warm, the combination of the crowded house and being squished between two large men sending you into a heat flash.

although, matthew may be more of a boy than a man, but you digress.

"want a drink?" he asks you—the smirk evident simply in his tone. your eyes dart to the side, finding his flushed face.

"of what?" you question sharply.

his brows raise in amusement. "anything you want." matthew laughs once, a breathy sound that has you squinting. "there's lots of options—this is a party, y/l/n."

there's that nickname again—the condescending tone dripping from his tongue as he calls you by your last name. you grit your teeth, "that's not my name."

"I mean...It is." his eyes flicker with something you don't recognize, lip twitching as his smile widens. "you're always so wound up."

you stiffen, and you can hear sean hiss quietly beside you. matthew's looking as smug as ever, fiddling with the damp, shredded label of his drink. you let out a scoff, "no i'm not—you're just annoying."

"sure." he nods condescendingly just as he lifts the neck of his bottle back towards his mouth, plump lips expertly caressing the opening and tipping the liquid into his mouth.

you watch him move—your bubbling annoyance clear. you watch behind the rim of the bottle as his smirk returns, and that has you blinking, quickly averting your gaze. "don't you have other people to bother?"

you hear his beer hit the table as he places it down, clearly done with it. "am I bothering you?" matthew chooses to avoid your question, like usual, which has you rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I personally find this really entertaining." sean interrupts, leaning closer towards you. a half smile takes over his dark complexion, and he gets further into your space, wide, amused eyes dancing between his teammate and you. "you guys fight like you're a married couple."

you head snaps his his direction so fast you neck muscles tighten up. "what does that mean?"

matthew snickers, which immediately has you attention again. "seriously, have a drink or something — you fucking need one."

"excuse me?" your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you're too far gone to care. you're really not in the mood to deal with your boyfriends best friends cocky personality, or his infuriating mannerisms and ridiculous smirk. "literally what makes you think you can say things like that to me? god, what's crawled up your ass."

"alright, alright," he interrupts, one of his large hands raised in a mock surrender. "just chill out, I'm not trying to ruin your night."

without knowing what else to say in that moment, you look away—eyes pinched and lips held together tightly. you grab sean's half full can of cherry liquor—right out of his loose grip—and down the rest of it.

he makes a noise of protest, but you don't even care. the alcohol already has you feeling better, the affects settling deep in your belly and further warming your exposed skin—you've always been a light weight. you cringe at the flavour, letting the last sip linger on your tastebuds before fully swallowing.

"fuckin jesus, y/n." sean grumbles like he's annoyed, but his eyes tell a different story. "that rilled up huh?"

you turn your back towards matthew, facing sean and his girlfriend completely. the latter is talking intently with another one of the girls—completely oblivious to the tension brewing next her.

matthew's eyes linger on your exposed back, your cream silky top dipping low enough to expose the base of your spine. he tongues his cheek to mask the grin, slowly trailing his eyes back upwards. "you're such a baby." he says knowingly, leaning in close enough that his words tickle your neck. "turnin' your back to me."

without looking at him, you huff. "you're so insufferable." you break composure, turning back in his direction. your irritated expression is still lingering, looking at matthew like you're trying to incinerate him with your eyes. "you suddenly care about me or something?"

"you wish." his response is quick—teasing.

sean snorts, clearly enjoying this much more than you could ever.

"do you seriously think you have that much of an impact on my life?"

"I know I do." matthew laughs. "you're really cranky today."

"and you need to shut the fuck up-"

"alright, you two." sean speaks again, looking almost scared as he eyes the both of you curiously. "better stop before people start getting the wrong idea."

you don't even have the brain capacity to think about what he could mean with that insinuation. you shoot off the couch, "i'm done here anyway." you mumble hastily, immediately making your way across the small living room. you weave your way through the few people standing in the middle of the space, lingering and chatting too enthusiastically for your liking.

the other couch comes into view quickly, and you spot lucas just as fast. your arms are crossed as you walk up to your boyfriend, lips already pulling in a irritated pout. the silk of your top suddenly feels too cold—too exposing—and you just want to go.

"lucas." you get his attention, "I'm going home."

his attention is pulled away from his teammates, eyes flickering over your figure once. "you okay?"

"ask your roommate." you spit. "he's fucking infuriating."

lucas grin, rolling his eyes. "you are so dramatic, babe. just come sit with me."

a couple of his teammates snicker at his words, attempting to cover their amused smirks behind their drinks—but you catch them.

"i'm not dramatic." you start, exasperated. "and no, I'm going home."

he runs a hand over his face. "kay, i'll see you later."

"whatever." you grumble, turning away from your boyfriend. you make your way back through the sticky frat house, narrowly missing the beer spilling over solo cups as drunk university students slosh around, smashing drinks together in cheers.

the early spring chill sends you into a shivering state almost instantly—the night cold stinging your skin harshly. it's only when the noise and echoing bass fade into a dull hum that you start to cry, sluggishly walking down the sidewalk as you continue the short walk to your apartment complex.

thoughts of matthew's snarky remarks and stupid smirk are plaguing your mind—sending you into a flurry of anger and vexation. replaying the interaction in your head has you scoffing out loud, muttering irritatedly like a clinically insane person.

and then there's lucas and his rude dismissal of you—his girlfriend for fucks sake. that and the way his teammates snickered at the brief moment of bickering between you just has you spiraling even deeper.

you close your apartment door louder than you intended, kicking off your shoes quickly.

your roommate, cora, looks up from her spot on the kitchen barstool, slowly slurping her mouthful of cheap ramen noodles with her brows raised in concern. "how was the party?"

all you can muster is a growl, opening to cupboard above the sink in search of a glass. your grab the first one you see, immediately filling it up with absurd flavoured tap water.

she snorts into her bowl, shoving some more noodles into her mouth. "what happened?" she questions between her chews.

you finish the water with a loud gulp, placing the empty glassware on the counter. "matthew happened."

his name alone makes cora roll her eyes, but there's a tiny grin that she can't even hide. your roommate is well used to the hostility that lingers between you and your down the hall neighbour. "just ignore him."

it's something that's been said by cora hundreds of times—it seems that anytime you're with lucas, you're coming back with a scowl and a new story about his roommate instead. "you know he only messes with you because you give him a good reaction."

you huff, stealing the fork out of cora's bowl and serving yourself a bite of her beef favoured noodles. they're not long made, and the heat slightly burns your tongue. you hiss through your teeth, "he's hard to ignore when he's up my ass whispering in my ear about how i'm 'such a baby'" you attempt at lowering you voice to mimick the athletes, and that has her grinning, taking back her fork for another bite.

"you two are so weird." she slurps a noddle noisily, "like there's some weird sexual tension or something."

"cora!" you huff, eyes comically wide as you look at her with nothing short of perplexity.

"what?" she laughs, all but innocent. "he's hot!"

"I have a boyfriend." snatching the utensil again, you twirl the prongs through the lingering food. your face begins to heat up, something that feels like embarrassment crawling at your chest. you clear your throat, praying that cora doesn't catch your burning cheeks as you chew some more food. "besides, even If I was single i'd never date someone so...arrogant."

"whatever you say." cora teases further, tucking herself further under her extra large hoodie. you know your friend is only playing around, and there's no malicious intent with her digs—so you let it slide, even though the mere thought of dating matthew knies has your stomach dropping, making you feel nothing less than nauseous.

"I need to take these jeans off before I explode." you whine, quickly changing the subject. you already start unbuttoning the denim as you make your way down the hall, rounding into your warmly lit bedroom in search of your favourite pyjamas.

you soon swap your party, beer smelling attire for an oversized, stained hoodie and sleep shorts—throwing your hair back and popping your glasses on. already, you're feeling much more relaxed than when you first got home. "wanna watch an episode of stranger things?" you call through the apartment, already grabbing your throw blanket.

"yeah!" cora calls back, "can you bring me the niall horan blanket from your room?"

you snort a laugh, doubling back to your bed and pulling the fuzzy, 2011 one direction throw into your arms. it's been a staple piece ever since you met cora in your freshman dorm, and you learned your new roommate from wisconsin was just as obsessed with the former boyband as you are.

you make your way back into the living area of the small student apartment, your slippers slapping the floor obnoxiously as you do. "can you grab me a coke?" you ask cora as you pass the kitchen nook.

two knocks interrupt you, the sound echoing through the wooden door that separates your apartment from the hall. you jump slightly, the unexpecting thumping catching you off guard and making your heart leap.

cora eyes the clock—almost 1 a.m. her gaze skips back to you, frozen in place with the fridge wide open. "are you expecting anyone?"

"no." you swallow, making you way to the door. "are you?"

she almost snorts. "definitely not."

skeptical, but curious, you grasp the chipping bronze handle. you're hoping it's lucas—lucas who has hopefully come to his senses and has left the party in favour of giving you an apology. with a gentle shrug, you turn the handle and pull the door open in one swift motion.

matthew is there, leaning against the door frame in all his smug, infuriating glory. at the sight of you opening the door, a small smirk grows on his face, and in that moment you think the universe must be against you—because what the actual fuck.

"hey." he says simply, his stupid smirk growing impossibly wide. "glad to see you're not dead in a ditch." your brows begin to furrow, and he continues — much to your dismay. "saw you leave the party all stompy."

you're almost speechless, at a loss for words as you blink up at him. "it's almost 1."

"very good." he snickers, like he's congratulating you for knowing the time. you want to punch him in the mouth and get rid of that insufferable grin.

"can I like, help you or something?" you question roughly, crossing your arms over your hoodie. it's a bit awkward considering the mountain of blankets in your arms, but you manage. "i'm kind of busy."

matthew peers behind you, looking into your very much empty apartment. he sees cora, still lingering in the kitchen—watching the exchange like it's a SNL skit with a tiny, amused smile on her face.

he meets your hard eyes one again. "I don't think you are, actually." he licks his bottom lip slowly, an action that seems instinctual. "are you going to be neighborly and invite me in? or just keep standing and staring."

a scoff leaves your mouth, but before you can protest, cora speaks up, her cheery voice making your heart drop. "come on in, matthew—don't mind the mess." she kicks some loose shoes out of the way, subtly pushing you to the side as well.

matthew smirks at you again, stepping into the small foyer of your apartment. you tear your gaze away from the tall boy, sending your roommate a slightly panicked look.

she just shrugs, looking back at matthew quickly. "i'll let you two chat—i've gotta get the pillows..and...stuff, from my room."

pillows and stuff? her excuse is just sad, but before you can stop her, cora is turning on her heels, practically skipping down the hall and into her messy bedroom.

now alone, you look back at your boyfriend's friend with raised brows. "so? what is it?"

something flickers across his face, and before you can register it, he sighs. "listen, i've come to say i'm sorry for tonight. I was an asshole."

"an asshole is one way of putting it." you scoff, arms crossing tighter. you pause, eyeing his seemingly sincere expression. with a sigh, you falter slightly, "but thanks."

his smirk is back. "welcome." the formality is mumbled through his plump lips, and you swallow roughly at the lazy grin.

"anything else?" you hum pointedly.

matthew shakes his head. "nope." he reaches behind his broad back, grabbing the doorknob and turning it. "i'll be seeing you around i'm sure."

you watch as he opens the door, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminating your dim apartment. you kiss your teeth, a reluctant nod following suit. "oh, i'm sure."

he snickers. "goodnight, y/l/n."

your face falls—a bubble of irritation quickly rising once again. you don't say anything, watching through the corner of your eyes as matthew walks down the hall to his and lucas' shared apartment.

he shoves the key in the lock, and just before he walks inside, matthew shoots you one more stupid smirk that sends your head reeling.

you click your apartment door shut, and as soon as it does, your forehead hits the flat surface, an angry groan leaving your chest.

STAGE 1: Confusion

"can I get three tequila sunrises, please?"

the burly bartender behind the counter sends you a curt nod, turning on his heels as he grabs three empty glasses to begin making your drinks.

the bar is crowded, more crowded than your usual visits, but it is a saturday night and this is the closest place to drink from campus—so it’s business doesn’t come as a shock. you look around the room, eyeing the sea of students and young adults alike—all smiling and dancing together as they down shots and sip their respective drinks.

your eyes find your small table, seeing cora chat happily with your mutual friend, rachel. you'd all been in a deep conversation about your psychology midterm results when you'd slurped up the last bit of your drink—cora already fiddling with the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass.

with a pout from rachel and a plea from your roommate, you slid off the high stool and begin sneaking your way through the bar. you sigh gently, turning your attention back to the busy bar, watching as the bartender works around his co-workers in their hectic environment.

"hey." his voice has you stiffening. slowly, your gaze flickers to your right and that's where you see matthew, leaning against the sticky bar top in his usual stupid way.

you frown, glancing over your opposite shoulder to see if he's talking to somebody that's not you—maybe a teammate or your boyfriend who has magically decided to show up tonight.

matthew snickers. "yeah. i'm talking to you."

you look back at him sharply. "why?"

he shrugs, his index finger tracing one of the raised splits on the wooden bar top. "just saying hi to a friend."

"a friend?" you question, one breathy laugh passing through your stained lips. your gaze turns pointed, looking at matthew with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "we're not friends."

"no?" he hums lightly.

you shake your head once, firmly. "I think you're forgetting how you know me."

"we live in the same apartment complex." his smile has returned at full strength, sending your chest contorting in a way that makes you angry. he's trying to rile you up, you know that by now, and even if you didn't, that grin on his stupid chiseled face gives him away—he's up to no good.

you make a face of faux innocent, mouth falling open to form a small, perfected 'o'. "oh, so that's how you know me?" your face falls, and you grab your wallet off the bar top. your hands are slightly shaky, and definitely clammy due to the adrenaline and irritation running through your veins—it's all so infuriating.

you turn to leave, but matthew's hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you. your head snaps back so fast that for a moment your vision blurs—and you have to blink quickly to clear it.

"c'mon, y/l/n, i'm trying to play nice." his grin falters slightly, looking down at you with a gentle expression.

it makes you even angrier. "well, I don't want you to play nice."

matthew squints playfully, leaning further down into your space. "kinky."

your eyes widen to unfathomable size, and your skin flushes all over. it's exactly the reaction matthew wanted to pull from you, and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches your face further contort into an expression of disbelief and frustration.

you take a few shaky, shallow breathes, trying your best to not yank your hand away and high tail out of the bar completely. "I have a boyfriend." despite the firm town of your voice, your words are quiet, only for the two of you to hear.

matthew's brows shoot up. "okay, I don't know how stupid you think I am, but I know you have a boyfriend—I live with him. i'm just being a dick."

you can't help the way your eyes roll. no shit. it's like matthew finally realizes the gentle grip he's still got around your wrist, and he drops your arm rather quickly upon realization. matthew brings his hand back to his side, fingers flexing as he tries to shake off the unknowing sensation. he clears his throat, eyes not leaving yours as he continues. "speaking of, where is lucas? thought you'd be up his ass tonight."

you hesitantly tuck your wallet under your arm, holding it to your side. after all, you're still waiting for drinks, and you're not going to let matthew drive you out of the bar before you can deliver them. "like you said," you huff, "you live with him, so you should've noticed he was home tonight."

matthew's lips drop in a small frown at your words, because no, he doesn't remember seeing lucas after they passed each other on the way to the bathroom that morning.

the tattooed arm of the bartender comes back into your peripheral vision, and he slides theee glasses in your direction. "here's your drinks."

you quickly menover your black wallet back into your hands, pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to the rather attractive tender. "thanks." he nods, tucking the money into his waist apron before turning away, attending to one of the many awaiting customers.

you look back towards the athlete at your side, who still hasn't taken his gaze off of you, and send him a sarcastic smirk. "wish I could say it was nice seeing you matthew, but i've never been a liar." you grab two of the glasses, frowning gently as you realize you can't quite grip the third. you place them down, attempting another time.

"oh wow good one, y/l/n." matthew laughs breathily, watching as you continue to struggle with three, condensation coated glasses. "are you going to ask for help now?"

you snort, "i'd rather eat glass than ask for your help."

you look like a lost puppy—one of the glasses pressed between your arm and boob, and the other one clutched awkwardly in your hand. your fingers barley reach around it, and it looks like a disaster waiting to happen.

"jesus christ, just—" matthew mumbles, reaching towards you and taking both glasses from you. and because he's annoying and has the hands of a giant, he scoops the third glass off the bar, holding the three together.

he looks at you triumphantly, which makes you want to kick him. "must you be so proud?"

"I must." he chimes. matthew finally looks away from you, which has you letting out a breath you hadn't realized you've been harbouring. his eyes filter through the crowd, brows pinched together. "where's your table?"

on cue, cora's distinctive laughter fills the room. "never mind I can hear your roommate." he begins walking in the direction of the table, maneuvering through the room like he owns it—which induces an annoyed eye roll from you. watching the crowd practically part as they see him coming through is even more infuriating.

you follow behind him, trying your best to keep up with his long strides. "her mouth is almost as loud as yours!" you smile with faux enjoyment, looking up at his side.

you merely miss getting bumped by some hammered frat guy, too busy yelling and terribly singing along to the shitty (but addictive) pop music. you miss the glare matthew sends the strangers way before he looks down at you, a smirk on his face. "seems like a match made in heaven then."

"or hell." you hum.

he laughs tauntingly. "don't be jealous."

"why would I be jealous?"

"took you long enough!" cora shouts, teetering on hammered—she's been pregaming since 5.

you watch rachel's eyes trail to your side, and immediately she's lighting up. "oh and you've brought a friend."

"not a friend—just a nuisance."

matthew laughs, too loudly for your liking, brushing past you to step onto the platform where your friends sit. "think that's the nicest thing you've said about me, y/l/n."

if your eyes roll one more time tonight they're surely to get stuck. "don't you have something else to do, knies?"

cora takes the glass from matthew's large hand, batting her lashes up at him like a damn cartoon character. she immediately takes the straw into her mouth, chewing on the plastic. "thank you matthew."

he turns back to you with a smug expression. "see, y/l/n, that's how you're supposed to respond when someone does something nice for you."

"oh well— I can't wait for the day you do something nice for me!" you clap your hands together like an exaggerated cheer, stepping up the the platform as well. you almost bump into his chest, underestimating just how close matthew was.

he just smirks, eyes slowly flickering down your body.

you swallow. "okay, you can go now."

"anything else?" matthew questions, brows raised expectantly.

"what?" you breathe through your teeth.

his smirk grows. "i'm waiting for a thank you."

you exhale through your nose, eyes briefly flickering closed for a passing moment. when they re-open, matthew doesn't falter, if anything he looks even more cheerful. "thanks." you grit out.

"you're so welcome." he shoots you a quick wink, waving goodbye to your friends before he steps off the platform, making his way back to whichever group of loud cronies he'd been with before he started pestering you.

"you two are so ridiculous." rachel laughs into her glass before taking a hearty sip—her eyes not once leaving you.

you whine, taking your original seat next to cora. "i'm one more interaction away from transferring schools."

cora groans loudly. "oh my god."

the conversation thankfully shifts after your dramatic remark, and the rest of the night seemingly goes by in a flash. you actually end up dancing for most of the evening, sandwiched between cora and rachel as you all scream song lyrics and laugh with one another. it's nice and refreshing—thankfully taking your mind of him.

you end up feeling more tired than you expected soon after, the combination of drinking, dancing and being at school since 10 that morning is taking its toll on you. "i'm gunna head out." you tell cora, leaning in close so she can hear you over the bassy one direction throwback.

"what?" she pouts, her hazy eyes wide. "I don't want you to go!"

you laugh gently, accepting the hug as she throws herself at you—stumbling over her own two feet in the process. "i'm tired." you admit. "do you and rachel wanna come with me?"

"no! the night is still young." cora looks at you like you're crazy for even suggesting that.

"okay party animals." you bid another goodbye to both of your friends, ordering and uber for yourself before stepping outside. you're hoping the chilled air will sober you up a little bit—because the last thing you need is to fall asleep in an uber, or worse, get sick.

you sigh gently, swaying on your feet as you stand outside the bustling bar. strangers and traffic are steady, providing a surprisingly comforting atmosphere.

the door creaks open behind you, the inside chaos growing louder for a split second until the threshold is closed once more. instinctively, you glance over your shoulder, and the sight has you groaning. the universe must be praying on your downfall, because there he is. "seriously? are you stalking me or something?"

matthew's brows raise, his hands shoved in his jean pockets as he walks towards you. "that doesn't even make sense—you've already seen me tonight…”

his words have you scoffing, and you turn your head away from him as you grumble frustratedly. "fucking...whatever."

he doesn't respond immediately, and the night life is the only sounds heard. ever impatiently, you check the uber app again, praying your ride is almost here—but they're still 5 minutes out.

"where are your friends?" matthew's voice interrupts your peace.

"why?" you question with hesitance, your glare pointed as you look towards him.

he laughs briefly, although it sounds more like a scoff. "god, you're so tightly wound! i'm just trying to make conversation."

you're taken aback for a moment, blinking quickly as you take in his words. with a quiet, irritated sigh, you look away from him once again. "you really don't need to."

you peer down the road, praying you see the uber that somehow has magically sped through time. matthew scoffs again. "why don't you like me?"

"besides the obvious?" you question condescendingly, eyes not leaving the road in front of you.

"sure, besides the obvious."

you spin on your heels, which in hindsight isn't the smartest decision because your stumbling dangerously. matthew's eyes widen in concern for a moment, but you catch yourself before he has the chance to reach out. you eye his flexing hands with anger, a grumble leaving your stained lips. "you're just, ugh! insufferable."

his brows raise. "i'm insufferable?"

you nod. "yes."

"really?"

"yes, matthew! god this, what you're doing right now is quite literally the definition of insufferable. like, if you looked up the definition a video of this interaction would play." you breathe roughly, gesturing between the two of you like a crazy person. at some point during your rant, you'd stepped closer to him—close enough that you have to tilt your head back to properly look at him.

matthew's lips slowly contorts into a smirk, one that sends your blood boiling. "you're such a nerd ."

you laugh in disbelief. "que the insults!"

his eyes change then, his smirk dissolving as a more serious and intense expression takes over his face. matthew licks onto his bottom lip, gaze pointed. "it's wasn't an insult."

your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you watch him…watch you. before you can say anything—do anything—the sound of tires screeching to the curb has you pulling away.

the passenger window rolls down, and a middle aged man come into sight. "uber for y/n?"

"yeah, that's me." you say quickly, walking away from matthew as fast as your feet allow you, and practically jumping into the running car, as soon as the seatbelt is clicked into place, the uber is moving, sending you falling back against the seat.

you watch through the window as matthew looks at the retreating car—not talking his eyes off the vehicle until you're nothing but a set of break lights in the distance. you swallow roughly, blinking away the flurry of emotions pulling and pushing at your chest.

STAGE 2: Shifting

almost a week has passed since your...interesting? annoying? pointless? conversation with matthew outside the bar, and you thankfully haven't seen him since.

which is surprising considering you've been at his apartment almost every night with lucas. as much as you hate to admit it, and as much as it makes you angry, you were curious about his whereabouts. anytime you'd been cuddling with lucas on the couch, watching some shitty show he liked—your mind would wander, and anytime there'd be any noise in the hall, you'd wonder if it was him.

where was he? what's was he doing? is he avoiding you? but no, because matthew loves pissing you off too much to just avoid you...right?

you curse yourself everytime matthew pops into your mind, quickly distracting yourself with whatever task you could get your hands on. like right now, ruffling through the snack display on top of the counter at work.

the arena is extra cold today, and as your arms touch the metal basket containing the various chips and crackers, you shiver—not even the team branded zip up around your torso is helping.

"y/n," the floor manager, jason pops into the booth. "we need some more pineapple. can you get some from the players kitchen please? just the frozen stuff for smoothies." his voice is hopeful, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

you sigh gently, kissing your teeth as you turn to look at him. "sure."

he smiles in your direction, but just before he leaves, jason doubles back. "oh! and a few protein bars, i'm starving."

"sure." you nod curtly.

"and while you're there, grab me a green juice?" this time at least jason manages to look somewhat guilty, his grin almost doubtful.

you almost find it amusing, and you raise your brows as so. "why not."

jason cheers. "you're the best."

with that you make your way out of the room, not fully shutting the door behind yourself as you know your arms will be too full to use a handle when you come back. the walk to the players section of the facility isn't a long one, and it's only a few minutes until you're entering the 'smoothie room' — as you like to call it.

it's always in pristine condition, and you almost feel guilty for simply breathing in there. quickly, you grab everything you need from the room, including the bag you'd filled with frozen pineapple and some nasty smelling green drink for jason.

with your arms full, you leave the room and begin making your way back to the snack bar. you round the corner into the most open part of the corridor, expect this time it's not empty, and around 10 of the guys have started kicking the ball around—a pre-game warmup that a lot of them liked to participate in.

you plan to just sneak through, keep your head down and try to not too badly interrupt the ritual—for lack of a better word. timidly, you begin making your way towards the rowdy group, eyes focused as their voices get closer and closer.

the sound of the soccer ball smacking against the wall has you freezing, and before you know it the inflated ball is soaring towards you. you don’t have a chance to react, and it hits you right in the chest, sending everything you'd been previously holding scattering to the floor.

embarrassed and irritated, you sigh, crouching down as you begin to attempt and salvage the mess at your feet. an all too familiar pair of running shoes appear in your vision, coming to a squeaky stop as they approach. "damn, you alright?"

you look up, squinting from the glow of the fluorescent lights lining the corridors. like you thought, it's matthew. his expression almost resembles one of concern, which has you pulling a disgruntled face.

he's slightly breathless, running around and kicking a soccer ball at you must be the cause. he's alive, you think reluctantly.

you look away from him, grabbing the two bottles of green juice and tucking them under your arm. thankfully, neither plastic bottle cracked when they hit the tile.

he sighs roughly, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes. matthew slowly bends down as well, grabbing the astray protein bars from the ground. "good talk." he mutters condescendingly.

your eyes dart up, a scoff tumbling past your lips. the audacity of matthew to be annoyed with you is just beyond comprehension. "sorry i'm not in the mood for small talk with you matthew after you just kicked the ball at my chest—i'm going to have to throw this fruit out now, thanks."

the pineapple is a wet, spilled mess across the floor. the bag had split when it dropped, and the ball has smooshed the fruit as it fell with it. you're not even sure what to do about the mess—looking at it hopelessly.

"I didn't kick anything at you, but sure it's my fault." he grumbles, looking at you once again.

"really? then who did?" you tone is dripping with doubt, looking at matthew with nothing but exasperation.

"ask your perfect little boyfriend." matthew immediately looks like he regrets his words, eyes widening momentarily before his gaze darts away from your face.

"my perfect little boyfriend who's also your friend?" you scoff. "god, touch some grass matthew." you know it's a terrible rebuke, and the way matthew smirks in disbelief following your insult has you feeling even more irritated with your choice of comeback.

you don't dwell on it much longer as the sound of somebody else approaching you both captures your attention. you look up just as lucas joins you, standing behind matthew with a tiny grin. "hey! babe you okay?"

you stand up, clutching the drinks to your chest. "fine." you nod.

lucas smiles again, moving to wrap you in a hug. it’s awkward, with your arms pushed against your chest and the green juice pressing into your boob uncomfortably. he kisses your head quickly. "sorry, we were all just messing around and I didn't see you."

your face falls, and you pull back from your boyfriend. "it was you?"

"yeah." he repeats, looking anything but guilty. "said I was sorry."

you unwrap yourself from his hug, stepping back. the whole conversation with your boyfriend has rubbed you the wrong way, and even if he didn't mean to kick you with the ball, his apology wasn't enough of a sincere gesture as you would expect from someone who supposedly loves you.

"I gotta get back." you say quietly, eyes downcast as you further back away from your boyfriend. instinctively, your eyes flicker towards matthew's tall stature. you both hold eye contact for a moment, unknown words lingering in the air between you.

you blink, picking up pace as you walk through the hall.

jason beams as he spots the pile of protein bars in your hands, taking two along with his green juice before skipping out the room. trying to shake off the weird feeling from the interaction with matthew in the corridor, you get back to work, organizing the fridge in preparation for tonight's game—you know how much the minnesota students love their alanis, and you need to make sure that fridge is fully stalked.

there's a good 5 minutes of silence, nothing but you, your thoughts and the loading of the fridge—until there's a knock at the open door.

you look over you shoulder, and there matthew is again. you don't know what to say because you don't know why he's here or what he wants. is he here to gloat? to apologize? to taunt?

matthew takes your silence as an invitation, stepping into the snack booth with a neutral expression. he's still dressed in his sports clothes—a team branded sweatshirt with matching shorts overtop compression pants, completed with his backward basball cap. it oddly suits him, and your stomach drops at the realization of what you've just done.

you kinda sorta checked him out.

"here." matthew interrupts your thoughts, clearly unaware of your wandering eyes and the inner turmoil happening in your brain. he walks further into the room, and that's when you see it—a bag of pineapple clutched in his hand.

in your rush to leave the corridor, you'd completely forgotten to run back and get more fruit.

"where do you want me to put it?" he questions.

"uh," you hum lightly, eyes moving around the room for some available space. it's kind of a mess in here, and you really need to get your shit together before you open. "just beside the coffee machine for now."

matthew does what you ask, putting the frozen ziploc beside the kureig on the side counter. he doesn't say anything else, and walks out the room without so much a second glance in your direction.

you bite your inner lip, knawing the soft skin as you blink furiously— trying to collect your whirlwind of thoughts. above all, you're angry. angry that you were hit with a ball, angry that matthew was right about who kicked it, angry that lucas gave you a shit apology, and that matthew didn't even attempt to annoy you when he'd brought you the pineapple.

—

lucas presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, pulling you into his chest on the outskirts of the lit up courtyard. around you is busy, lingering students and staff members alike chat and walk through the space with an upbeat pace.

every year since you've been attending the university of minnesota, the hockey team and staff members would host a barbecue and movie night in the schools courtyard. it was always an amazing turnout, and for only $5 dollars to get in and get something to eat and watch a throwback film (this year being freaky friday), it was quite the rage. plus, the money went to a fundraiser that helped public schools in the area have breakfast. so it’s a win win.

so not only do you go with the intent of supporting the youth of neighbouring schools, but your boyfriend is one of the co-organizers of the event. so of course you show your face.

which brings you back to the current moment, pouting up at lucas with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage. lucas sighs gently, running his hands over your jean jacket covered arms. "don't give me that look."

you don't let up, but your lips begin to form into a grin. "what look?"

"the look you're doing right now." he laughs once, squeezing your biceps tightly. "you know I have to be all over the place, babe. I can't just stand with you."

your exaggerated, playful pout quickly changes into a real frown—even though you don't want to show that emotion. because lucas is one of the co-organizers of the event, he's got lots of duties to attend to while the event is happening. so although you're technically here to spend time with your boyfriend, you'll barley get to see him.

plus, cora is sick and had no choice but to stay back at the apartment and watch re-runs of friends, and rachel wouldn't be able to come until the movie starts—coinciding with when her shift at work ends.

"I know but..." you trial off, taking your bottom lip into your mouth anxiously. you've never been a huge fan of crowds—especially when it's tightly gathered in a confined space—and the idea of having to be alone right now is rather daunting. "can't I just help you? like just go with you?"

lucas sighs again, eyes flickering out to the crowd around you. the smell of cheap burgers and hotdogs are already filtering through the air, providing the most perfect early spring atmosphere for the evening. he meets your eyes once more, "it just won't work like that. hey, you'll be okay."

he kisses your cheek, doing his best to reassure you, but you still feel down. "right, okay."

"get yourself a drink and just chill—i'll find you when I can, okay?"

you send him a closed mouth smile, breathing through your nose in a gentle exhale. "okay."

with that he turns away, quickly moving through the lingering crowd as he makes his way into the courtyard. you huff lightly, looking around the sea of people to see if you recognize anyone—literally anyone you can stick with until rachel gets there. but nobody is there.

you eventually follow the crowd, entering the lit-up courtyard. it's decorated in various streamers and balloons representing school colours, along with a spread of beanbags and camping chairs set up for the movie. it looks really good, and even though it's not the warmest temperature due to the night sky, the collection of bodies and decor have the place feeling cozy.

you spot a long table through students, full of what seems to be drinks—various waters, juice and sodas lining the gray fold away surface. you sneak your way through, eyeing the options before inevitably deciding on water. caffeine will just make you anxious, and your favourite juice flavour wasn't an option.

in your peripheral vision, you see a member of the hockey team standing on the other side the table—presumably keeping track of beverages and taking payments. without properly looking up you begin shuffling through your clutch, "how much for the water?"

"it's free."

the all too familiar and cocky voice of matthew knies has you freezing. slowly, your eyes creep upwards, only to be met with the light eyes of his. he'd been the hockey player in your peripheral, and you curse yourself for not noticing sooner.

his brows raise, anticipating a snarky remark. but much to his dismay you turn away, walking back through the crowd and away from him.

he turns to mitchell, one of his teammates, patting his shoulder quickly. "mind watching the table for a sec—gotta do something." matthew doesn't even wait for a response before he's following you, easily making his way between the bodies crowded around.

matthew catches sight of you off to the side, seemingly unaware that he’s hot on your trail. he approaches you swiftly, getting your attention as he speaks. "you're like really bad at the whole socialization thing."

your eyes widen briefly, watching as he casually leans against the nearest table.

"maybe I just don't want to socialize with you." you retort, eyeing him pointedly before taking a slow sip from your water bottle.

matthew smirks. "that's mean."

"don't care." you answer, looking back out into the yard.

a beat passes. "you come alone?" matthew questions, seemingly curious.

you cross your arms. "sort of."

"sort of?" matthew parrots, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. "what's does sort of mean?"

you look at him again. "well I came with lucas, but he's busy so now i'm here...with you." the last part has you pulling a face, scrunching your noise is displeasure.

he snorts. "don't pretend like you don't enjoy my company."

"enjoying isn't quite the word i'd use to describe how I feel about you and your company." you retort lightly, brows pulling tightly.

matthew sucks his bottom lip, containing his grin. "okay, so why aren't you mingling? this is supposed to be a event of socializing."

"I'm not a fan of mingling." you tell him earnestly, clearing your throat in a moment of venerability. "or crowds. besides the fundraiser, I only come for lucas."

"yeah crowds aren't for everyone." matthew's genuine tone has you taken back, and you eye with an almost shock like gaze. "sorry that you're dealing with it alone."

you feel weird—why does the sincerity in his voice make you tingly? "well," you begin. "i'm not alone because you've insisted on coming over here to annoy me."

his smirk is back. "it is my specialty."

you laugh a real laugh, a very brief moment of quiet joy that takes you by surprise. the way his eyes twinkle and smirk widens at the sound of your giggle goes unnoticed by you.

"babe." lucas voice calls out, jogging up to you and matthew. "hey." he greets, pulling you into his side and kissing your temple. "I got a minute, thought i'd see what you were up to." his eyes flicker to matthew's. "see you've found a friend."

matthew's eyes don't leave you, waiting and watching for your reaction to your boyfriends words. you swallow gently, "he was just keeping me company."

"she's not a fan of crowds—thought i'd take a few minutes from work to make sure she's settled." this time when matthew speaks, he's only looking at lucas, and you don't miss the underlying message in his words.

lucas seems oblivious to the hostility underlying his teammates admission, a smile overtaking his face. "anyways, I gotta get back. gunner was telling me about this new club out on main—i'll catch you guys later."

as soon as your boyfriend is out of ear shot, you send matthew a furious glare. "what was that?"

"what was what?" he questions innocently, eyes yet to meet yours again.

"i'm not stupid, matthew, you were trying to..I don't know? like one up lucas by insinuating he's a bad boyfriend for not spending time with me. what the fuck." you spit angrily, gaze tinted with fury.

"I'm not insinuating anything, i'm simply just calling it as I see it." matthew retorts.

you breath a shocked laugh. "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're lucky he didn't catch on to your stupid little coded message." you take a breath, arms tightening over your chest. "he's your friend—why are you trying to ruin that?"

matthew takes a step towards you. "like I said, i'm just calling it as I see it."

"bullshit." you chime. "what's it to you that lucas is busy tonight and he's not able to spend time with me? seriously."

his brows raise, an amused expression on his face. he knows he shouldn’t argue with you, especially when what he wants to say will only further upset you—but he can’t help himself. "he's too busy to spend time with you, yeah? but tell me why we're in the same job position and I haven't left your side since I saw you. so call whatever you want bullshit, but the real bullshit is the guy standing next to his teammate doing absolutely nothing but making you look stupid."

matthew's words have you pulling back, face faltering. you feel emotion clawing at your chest, flushing your skin a rosey pink as the embarrassment and anger about the situation hits you all at once.

his face flashes with remorse, looking down at you with a lingering guilty gaze. his mouth opens slightly, as if to speak—but nothing comes out.

"fuck you." you hiss quietly before turning on your heels and leaving. everything in your body feels like it's on fire, walking through the courtyard with a determination you didn't even realized you had. you can feel matthew's eyes boring into your retreating figure, but you don't dare turn around and look.

he's right—god, he's fucking right. matthew not only calling out your boyfriends shitty behaviour but your obliviousness to the truth about the situation, stings you hard, and you didn't know what else to say or how to react besides the way you did.

you’re even angrier about the fact that even within the little attention matthew had given you tonight, was more than lucas had all day—and the time matthew spent at your side in the bustling courtyard, had your anxiety about the crowds fizzling.

STAGE 3: Denial

the sound of basketball shoes squeaking against the polished wood of a court has always been one of your least favourite things. it's a high pitched, constant sound that has you cringing every time.

you eyes flicker up towards the scoreboard—it's almost half time. it's a relief, and you are almost giddy at the fact that the stupid squeaking while be on a momentary pause.

lucas squeezes your thigh, right over your jeans. you look over at his gently, met with the sight of his curious grin. "what's up babe?"

you shrug, "just watching the timberdogs!"

"it's the timberwolves." he corrects you, eyes twinkling with amusement. you laugh it off, looking back out into the basketball court, eyes following the players as they zip back and forth on the length of the floor.

lucas' dad has always been super into basketball—like more that the average person. he's got a room in his childhood home that's designed to resemble the minnesota timberwolves court, as well as a plethora of jerseys and seasons tickets for every year.

you're not sure why his dad couldn't make it to this game—lucas had told you in the car on the way to the game but you'd been too distracted with everything else going on inside the vehicle to truly pay attention. maybe he was sick? it also could've had something to do with his car breaking down? you don't recall—but regardless, the tickets weren't being used, and they were offered to lucas.

you assumed it was just two—because lucas didn't have any siblings, and you would think it was just his parents attending these games. but no, there's four tickets, because it was always a group of 50 year old men attending together.

so what you hoped was a date night between you quickly turned into a little group outing with your respective roommates. which wouldn't of been such a problem if you weren't still reeling about the last conversation you had with matthew—in the courtyard when he practically called out your entire relationship.

the reminder makes you shift in your chair, angling yourself away from matthew even further. you can hear him sigh to himself, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as his leg bounces up and down with a feverish pace.

it's annoying—more than the shoes on the court. you huff, turning to look at him. "can you stop moving, it's distracting."

he turns to his head. "how is it distracting?"

"i'm trying to watch the game." you retort.

matthew's brows raise incredulously. "you've been watching anything but the game since it started."

"that's not true." it is true, and his call out has you feeling even more infuriated than when you first got to the arena. "I love basketball."

"sure you do." he nods, unconvinced. "instead of watching me then, get back to watching your timberdogs." matthew messes up the name of the NBA team on purpose, teasing you with your own fuck-up.

you huff. "you are so-" the sound of the buzzer echoing loudly throughout the court silences you, whatever insult you'd been conjuring up dying on your tongue. the players begin filling off the court as halftime begins, leaving the crowd to begin freely moving and walking throughout the stands and hallways—replenishing snacks and/or drinks.

on the opposite side of matthew, cora leans forward, looking at you with wide eyes. "hey! i'm going to get another coke. do you want one?" her voice is loud, and even still it's barley heard over the rowdy crowd.

"yes please." you smile. your roommate nods in understanding before getting up, making her way down the row of seats before disappearing out of sight—leaving you with only lucas and matthew.

matthew snickers—mostly to himself—eyes downcast as he fiddles with a loose thread on the knee rip of his jeans. "didn't think you were capable of such manners."

"didn't think you were capable of such big words! woah, i'm impressed." your face falls, words dripping with sarcasm as your annoyance builds higher and higher.

you shoot a look towards lucas, but are only met with the sight of him engaged in his phone—playing fucking candy crush of all things—completely unaware of the tension rising between you and his friend.

"of course your impressed." matthew insists, "everything I do impresses you."

the lingering crowd around you seems even more roudy than before, but your too enthralled with matthew to even look away and glance around. despite the noise, you can hear him fine—too fine, if you're getting specific.

your mouth drops, a tiny puff of disbelieved laughter leaving you. "oh so we're back on the 'y/n is obsessed with matthew train.'"

matthew slowly leans closer to you, his elbow nudging yours on the tiny shared armrest between your seats. his cologne invades your space—something clean like fresh laundry mixed with a spicy cinnamon. it's almost intoxicating, and you're left frozen in place.

"we never got off that train." his words are dripping with a teasing undertone, licking his bottom lip slowly.

a hand nudges matthew shoulder from the row of seats behind yours—gathering his attention. curious, you turn as well, finding a guy seemingly only a few years older than you, looking down at you both with a sheepish grin. "you guys are on the jumbotron."

both your heads whip back around, darting up towards the jumbotron hanging from the exposed ceiling of the court. much to your horror, you and matthew are on the screen—the image framed in a heart filter with 'kiss cam' scribbled across the bottom.

you and matthew both flush—although your heat is definitely more visible, trailing down your neck and appearing in splotches over your exposed chest. "no." you say, making a cut off motion beside your neck with your perfectly manicured nails. "we're not together."

it's no use— the jumbotron can't hear your pleas. matthew shakes his head, joining in on your attempt to get the camera off you both. through the screen you see matthew shift his attention to you, which has you whipping around to look at him. his gaze is almost soft—curious, maybe.

suddenly the crowd gets louder, their unison chants echoing through the building. "kiss kiss kiss!"

the commotion finally has lucas looking away from his phone, and at the sight of what's happening in front of him—his face falls. his brows furrow slightly, gaze switching between the jumbotron and the both of you—staring at one another.

lucas quickly grabs your face, turning you away from his roommate and planting a messy kiss on your lips. your eyes widen slightly, but eventually flutter closed—allowing your boyfriend to move his lips along yours.

matthew swallows roughly, looking away and back towards the screen. the camera has since shifted, showcasing you and lucas in the last lingering moments of the bruising kiss. the crowd cheers, but as soon as you pull away from him, the couple on the jumbotron changes.

lucas expression shifts, lips pulling into a frown as he pulls away from you—his hand quickly retreating back into his lap. "why didn't you nudge me?"

your mouth open and closed quickly, "I-I don't know."

"you don't know?" lucas's tone is quite, but firm, clearly unhappy with the situation that just transpired—even though nothing really happened.

you shrug, and blush once again, but this time is purely from embarrassment about the scolding from your boyfriend. "no, the crowd was looking and I just, I tried to say no but the camera wasn't hearing me. are you seriously mad at me?"

your eyes quickly flicker around the immediate area, making sure nobody is outwardly eavesdropping on your hushed argument.

"should I be?" lucas retorts, pulling your attention back to him. he's looking at you curiously, tinged with something that seems like hope as he waits for your response.

you swallow roughly, once shake of your head following. "no."

lucas exhales shakily, the corner of his mouth sliding into a grin. "okay," he mumbles, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "then i'm not mad."

you allow yourself lean into him easily, but your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and a million unknown feelings, and when you try and even begin to understand them, you're just left more confused.

the crowd begins filtering back into the arena, finding their original seats as the halftime clock begins winding down—the third quarter approaching quickly. cora comes back down the isle, squeezing past outstretched legs as small apologies spew past her lips.

you catch her eye, and her smile grows. "a coke for you." the posh, royal tone she often uses comes to a slow halt, passing you your drink as she eyes your somber expression.

you take the plastic cup. "thanks."

cora gives you a knowing look—one that says your sudden shift in mood will be discussed later in the comfort of your shared apartment. you're not sure why you're dreading that so much.

just as the buzzer sounds throughout the arena again, signaling the resumption of the game, your eyes flicker back towards matthew again. his jaw is tight, and you can see the tendons moving under his skin as he grinds his teeth together. matthew's leg is bouncing again, faster than before—his gaze locked on the court.

it's a longer glance than you intended, but you can't help yourself—something inside you is unwilling to look away.

that dreadful noise of shoes on the polished floor pulls you away, your nose scrunching as you inwardly cringe at the sound.

quickly, matthew's eyes flicker to you—only to be met with the side of your face. he watches gently as your face drops from the previous tight pull, your smooth skin stretching over your perfectly shaped nose.

the puffiness of your lips and the lingering blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair cascades down your back in the most delicate blowout...matthew can't help the way the faintest grin ghosts over his face.

the rest of the game thankfully goes by quickly, and before you know it you're all back in lucas’ car, making the drive back to your apartment located near campus. thankfully cora and lucas fill the lingering silence with pointless conversation—you and matthew only chiming in when necessary.

you don't know what exactly happened, but you know something has shifted. you don't know what it means, or what will happen because of it—and that has you feeling really weird.

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own apartment, cora smacks her purse down on the counter, gathering your attention with the harsh sound. "what's going on with you?"

your shoulder deflate. "I don't know."

she frowns, walking further into the apartment where you've decided to flop dramatically on the couch. your pants pull uncomfortably around your waist, and the button is digging into your belly pouch like nobodies business.

cora sits down beside you, facing you with curious eyes. "did something happen at the game? it felt like when I went to get the drinks, I missed something."

"I was on the kiss cam." you breathe.

"okay?"

"with matthew."

"oh." she is momentarily taken back, blinking three times quick as she digests your words. cora is very much used to your and matthew's supposed hatred for one another, even though she's never believed it. but the look on your face at the game isn't adding up to just 'being on the kiss cam with matthew'.

cora's brows pull tightly, creating a deep wrinkle between them. "what else happened?"

"I think," you start, voice dropping as if you weren't the only two people in the room. "I think matthew wanted to kiss me."

her eyes widen to an unfathomable size. "what?! how do you know?"

your mouth opens, a sharp breath passing through your lips. "I just....I don't know, there was something about the way he looked at me. am I being crazy?"

instantly cora shakes her head, a gentle frown on her face. "no. the eyes never lie."

your expression droops in a mixture of confusion and fear, eyes beginning to glaze with emotion as you look at cora.

she continues, "and if he tried to kiss you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know." you exhale shakily.

you hear your roommate coo gently, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed hug. your eyes pinch shut, holding onto cora's arm as you continue the embrace.

you are so screwed.

—

how lucas managed to drag you to another loud and obnoxious frat party is honestly beyond you, but there you were—doing your best at mingling and letting loose while lucas was off doing god knows what with his teammates.

rachel thankfully ended up being at the party, and as soon as she ran up to you and made herself known—you didn't leave her side. which in hindsight maybe wasn't the best idea.

you love rachel, truly, but she's never been the best influence—especially when alcohol is involved. one minute your sipping your first seltzer, and the next you're stumbling over, 10 drinks in and screaming chappell roan lyrics like nobodies business.

which means right now you're hammered, sluggishly walking through the busy frat house as you attempt in finding your boyfriend. because drunk you is clingy—and a little horny—and all you want is the warm touch and attention of a man.

unaware, drunk bodies bump into from both sides—too caught up in the party atmosphere to even notice you. it makes the journey a bit harder, but somehow you haven't managed to fall on your ass, so you'll count that as a win.

"y/n?"

the sound of your name has you blinking, looking around the room until you locate the culprit. matthew's hand touches your exposed shoulder, grabbing your attention. his brows pull together, and he bends his knees slightly so he's able to properly look into your eyes. "hey are you with me?"

you blink. "your eyes are like really pretty." a fit of giggles follows your slurred admission, tumbling forward slightly as you clutch your belly.

matthew's hands steady you easily. the combination of your shitty balance and surprisingly playful and kind words tells him all he needs to know about your current state—you're drunk.

"where's lucas?" he asks you, beer can abandoned on a side table beside one of the terribly stained couches lining the makeshift sitting area. matthew eyes you again, "or did you come with cora?"

you shake your head. "cora's a loser and had to work—so here I am."

he can barley understand you due to the slurred, sluggish string of words, but he catches the jist of it. "so you're alone."

"no..." you retort, huffing like you're annoyed. "lucas is here. wait! have you seen him?"

"not for hours." matthew tells you. "I think you need to go home though."

you whine a protest, shaking off the hand he'd still had on your shoulder. matthew isn't having it, and before you can register what's going on, he's grabbing the meat of your biceps, guiding you to the couch before sitting you down.

"hey!" you huff, falling back against the cushions—wow, for a frat couch it's really comfortable.

"i'm going to find lucas, okay? stay here." matthew tells you firmly before walking back into the heart of the crowd, on a mission to find your boyfriend. it's actually not a hard task, and he's only looking for a minute or two before he spots lucas—in the back corner with a couple guys from the team and some mystery girls, all laughing and passing around a joint.

"hey," matthew starts firmly, grabbing the groups attention. lucas brows pull, taking a slow drag from the joint resting between two loose fingers.

"lucas man, y/n needs to go home—she's practically black out."

lucas groans, passing off the joint to the blonde girl closest to matthew—the same girl who's been eyeing him since he walked up to the group a few moments ago.

"fuck, man. I forgot she was here."

his word have matthew's jaw ticking, eyes squinting pointedly. "you forgot your girlfriend was here?"

lucas, ever oblivious, doesn't catch the irritation lacing his roommates words, and he only shrugs nonchalantly before taking a hearty sip of beer. he looks at matthew, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "listen, I'm still having a good time. can you like, take her home?"

matthew can barley hold back a scoff. "seriously?"

"i'd really appreciate it." lucas says. "I can trust you, right?"

that really rubs matthew the wrong way, because what the actual fuck is he even trying to insinuate with that comment. before he can bite his tongue, matthew's anger comes boiling to a point. "yeah, because i'm not some no good boyfriend who's spending his time doing drugs and flirting with 18 year olds while my girlfriend is alone and vulnerable."

lucas blinks, taken back—but matthew doesn't care. matthew sends one more harsh glare towards him before leaving the area, weaving back through the party.

when he reaches you again you're practically sleeping, holding your knees to your chest and using them as a pillow. your face is squished, your blinks slow.

"we're going." matthew tells you, gently nudging your knee.

you groan, lifting your head. "where's lucas?"

"he's not coming."

"oh." you sigh, blinking with unshed emotion. your hair is wild, like you've been sweating and running your fingers through it all night—which you have. and if matthew wasn't so frustrated with his roommate right now, he'd probably tease you about it.

matthew helps you off the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to provide you with some stability as he guides you both outside.

the fresh air is shocking, sending you into a fit of shivers almost immediately—despite the mid may warmth. thankfully it's not a long walk back to the apartment, and matthew only has to stop with you twice because you claim you're going to throw up—spoiler alert, you don't.

you stumble out the elevator, tripping over your own two feet. matthew grabs the back of your tank top, halting you back up. "okay, slow down."

"but i'm tired." you whine, head falling back dramatically.

"you're gunna be real tired when you smack your face off the ground and end up in the ER." matthew let's go of your shirt, but takes ahold of your wrist, practically pulling you down the hall towards your apartment door.

"I don't want to go to the ER." you tell him, eyes widening with panic.

matthew's almost amused, sending you a small smirk over his shoulder. "okay, then let's get you inside."

"okay." you nod in agreement. thankfully the door is unlocked, because matthew didn't even want to start asking you about the whereabouts of your keys while you're this obliterated.

you sigh happily, kicking off your shoes messily before stumbling through your dark apartment. blindly, matthew finds the switch beside the door, flickering on the overhead light.

as soon as the room becomes illuminated he located you again, lounging half on the couch. he moves towards you, his smirk growing. "that's not your bed."

"it's not?"

he stifles a laugh. "no."

you whine again, head lolling to the side dramatically. "can you take me there?" your arms extend out towards him, resembling a mummy. "please. don't be mean."

matthew gulps gently, but takes ahold of your hands, pulling you back into unstable feet. "i'm not mean." he tells you, letting go of your hands. it proves to be a mistake because your immediately falling backwards.

matthew curses, grabbing you before you hit the couch and pulling you back up. you laugh, feeling very much like a ragdoll. you look up into his eyes, "you are too."

"you're mean too." he says, wrapping an arm around your hips and looping his fingers through your belt loop. he begins walking you both down the hall, "you're the one who calls me names."

you gawk loudly. "i'm only defending myself, matthew."

"whatever you say, y/n." he hums playfully. "which room is yours?"

you tell him that it's the room at the end of the hall, and allow matthew to continue guiding you to your bedroom. he nudges the half open door with hip, opening the threshold completely.

he drops you to the bed, and you go easily, falling against the unmade pile of blankets with a smile on your face. "where are your pyjamas?"

you lazily point towards the tall dresser next to the door. "top drawer."

matthew nods, pulling it open and immediately stifling through the jam packed drawer. he manages to pull out a t-shirt and plaid pants—ones he's seen you wearing at his place before. he tosses the items beside you. "think you can manage that?"

you sit up quickly, a lazy scoff falling past your lips. "yes." you grab onto the pyjamas, and before anything else your eyes widen, glancing back to matthew. "turn around."

matthew snickers at your tone—obviously he was going to turn around, but seeing you get so worked up over it has him left amused. he turns on his feet, broad back facing you as he looks into the dark hallway—patiently waiting for you to change.

you begin taking off your tight, alcohol sticky clothes, desperate to get into something comfortable and climb under the blankets. you lift your shirt over your head, and the momentary lack of vision has you stumbling, falling into the chair beside your vanity.

you hear matthew's quiet snicker. "shut up." you grumble, pulling on the pyjama shirt.

"didn't say anything."

"you thought it." you retort. eventually you get into the pants as well, and immediately climb into your bed. the sound of your delightful sigh and ruffling sheets have matthew peeking over his shoulder, making sure you were decent.

once he sees that you are in fact dressed, he faces you again. "do you need to be sick?"

you pause, is if you were assessing yourself to find an answer. a beat passes, "don't think so."

he hums doubtfully, walking towards your vanity and taking ahold of your tiny trash bin sitting underneath. you'd emptied it that morning, so there was nothing but a makeup wipe and a few q-tips in the bottom from when you'd gotten ready. matthew puts it beside your bed. "just in case you're lying."

"excuse me," you huff, squinting pointedly. "I don't lie."

he ignores you, picking up the stuffed zebra sitting on your bed, wedged between the pillow and the headboard. matthew snorts, examining the matted fur and scratched button eyes of your most prized possession. "awh, who's this little guy?"

you push up, snatching your zebra from his hands and bringing it to your chest. "don't touch ross with your filthy hands."

"his name is ross?" matthew snickers as you cuddle the stuffed animal, rubbing your cheek against the top of its head.

you nod. "yes."

"cute." he hums.

your eyes feel heavy with sleep, and it has you falling back towards the pillows, your beloved ross smooshed against your face. matthew swallows gently, watching the way your breath begins to even out and your blinks become slower.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispers.

matthew walks out your room, slowly shutting the door behind him—but just before the latch click, you mumble his name. it has him pausing, slowly pushing the door open once more.

you're looking towards the door lazily. "can you stay with me.”

matthew's face falls, swallowing roughly at the sight of you—laid out on your bed, completely relaxed and pretty. you don't even know what you do to him, and it drives him insane. he sighs. "no. I can't."

you pout, a breathy wind blowing past your dry lips. "pleaseee...lucas never stays with me."

the mention of your boyfriend has matthew scoffing, the conversation they'd had earlier coming back to him in a angry wave. "lucas is a dick."

he's expecting your to scold him, so matthew is surprised when your gentle giggles float through the room. "such a dick." you slur in agreement.

a moment passes, and your quiet giggles slowly die. wordlessly, your hand comes out fromunder the covers and pats the spot beside you—inviting him on your bed.

matthew's breath hitches, but he doesn't walk away. matthew softly shuts the door before walking back through your room, stepping over stray shoes and your discarded party clothes on the way to your bed.

"I don't bite." you grin teasingly.

matthew can't help the smirk that makes its way onto his face. "doubt it."

your smile mimics his, and that has matthew getting onto your bed, sitting atop the covers and leaning his upper body against your plush headboard.

it's only a few more minutes before your gentle snoring is heard throughout the room, a tell tale sign that you've fallen into a deep sleep. matthew watches you for a moment, letting the peace linger between you—a peace that has never been between you before.

matthew's eyes begin to feel heavy, and before he knows it, your soft snores are lulling him to sleep.

STAGE 4: Ignorance

when you woke up the following morning, you were in a state of confusion, still dealing with the lingering affects of alcohol and trying to re-collect your memories from the night before.

with a groan, you got out of bed, shuffling down the hall and into the living room. thankfully, cora is still sleeping after he late night shift—so you're in complete silence as you pour yourself a hefty glass of ice water.

it comes back to you in flashes, each blurry memory worse than the last—rachel convincing you to have another drink, followed by another, the loosing rachel at the party and having to walk through the house while hammered. then matthew is bringing you home, without lucas for a reason you don't recall—matthew in your room, changing behind his back, him touching ross...you pleading for him to stay.

your breath hitches—a mixture of embarrassment and hangxiety hitting you at full force. then you feel yourself panic, your stomach dropping. had you even checked beside you this morning? was your boyfriends best friend still in your bed?

you quickly—much quicker than you should be moving when you're that hungover—make your way back down the wall, sheepishly peeking into your bedroom.

he's gone. and that makes you feel worse than before.

you don't see him for the whole day, and then the next day comes and you still don't run into matthew knies. not in the hallway of your apartment building, and certainly not in the elevator. you don't see him at school, or even at the hockey rink. the one time you spend the night at your boyfriends, matthew is nowhere to be found. almost two weeks pass, and you haven't seen him at all.

it's making you anxious, and not only can cora tell—sending you looks of pity anytime you're making dinner together—but lucas can tell something is up with you too.

anytime he'd ask, you'd brush it off with a easy excuse—you're tired, or you have a headache—but it was never believable, and it was becoming repetitive.

did you say something to him? did you do something to him? you're reeling with possibilities of what could've happened between you and matthew knies to have him actively avoiding you.

but honestly, you're no better, and after a few days the anxiety of it all was getting to you—and you begin actively avoiding him as well. you call in sick to work anytime your shift is during a game, and you've only spent time with lucas if it's at your apartment. you leave early for class with the hopes of avoiding running into him, and you stay behind late for the same reason.

it was exhausting but you couldn't help it.

so when cora texted you this afternoon about meeting up for lunch between her classes, you easily agreed. wednesday's were your free days, with no classes to take up your schedule—moping around your apartment while dealing with the mess of emotions in your head wasn't your most ideal choice of productivity.

so with only an hour until cora's lunch gap, you strip out of your pyjamas, tossing on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. you throw your hair up, only intending to wash your body and hopefully clean off any lingering lazy and anxious energy from your skin.

you sigh, pulling back the floral printed shower curtain. immediately, you scream, jumping backwards as the sight of a large, brown spider that greets you—scurrying up the walls before slipping back down.

your eyes begin welling up with tears as dry sobs rack your body—of course there's a fucking gigantic spider in your bathtub.

you rush out the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door, pulling it open with the upmost urgency. you don't even close it, speed walking down the dimly lit hallway until you're at your boyfriends apartment.

your knocks are frantic, perfectly capturing the emotions your feeling. thankfully it's only a few moments of your panic stricken knocking before the handle turns, the door opening to reveal not lucas.

matthew's taken back at the sight of you—hair piled on top of your head with a makeup stained robe around you, bare feet on display. quickly, his eyes land upon your face, and the sight of your tears and pale skin has him faltering. "what's wrong?"

you swallow roughly, a few tears trailing down your blotchy cheeks. "I went to take a shower, and there's a huge fucking spider and i'm so scared of bugs—I don't know what to do, I need help." you're a babbling, sniffling mess, eyes darting between matthew and back down the hall.

"it's okay." he says quickly, stepping out into the hallway. "i'll kill it, okay?"

you nod, blowing out a shaky breath. "okay." for as long as you can remember you've had a crippling fear of any and all creepy, crawly insects. something about the way they scurry around quickly, unable to know what it's thinking and what it's planning to do to you, never fails to leave you shaking.

your fear has completely taken over your body, and it's the only reason you're able to speak to matthew knies without remembering the past few weeks between you—or rather, the lack there of.

you follow him back to your apartment timidly, trialing behind his broad shoulders like a lost puppy. he breathes gently as he enters, grabbing one of the extra shoes at the front door—the spider killing weapon of choice, clearly.

"it's in the tub." you mutter, eyes darting down the hall. matthew nods, walking towards the bathroom like he's not about to battle the eight legged beast residing in there.

he pulls back the shower curtain further, and you peek around his bicep—locking eyes with the creature. you shiver, a disgruntled moan leaving your mouth. matthew looks back at you. "sure you wanna watch?"

in all seriousness, you nod. "I need to know it's dead."

"okay," he hums, grip tightening around your floppy, strappy sandal. the spider is still crawling around, attempting to escape over the lip of the bathtub but inevitably falling back down.

it's definitely not as big as you described it, but matthew doesn't even dare bring that up. at least, he won't until the spider is gone and you're returning back to a normal heart rate. he brings the shoe up before quickly bringing it back down, but before it can be smooshed, the spider scurries away.

you squeal once again, eyes filling with salty tears as you grip matthew's arm—hiding your face is the soft material of his sweater. "its moving!"

he has a hard time stifling his laugh, looking down at you with an amused expression. "why are you cryin?"

"i'm scared." you mutter, fingers digging into his arm muscle. "hurry up and kill it—oh my god, i'm going to be sick."

matthew rolls his eyes, the action laced with fondness rather than irritation. "well I can't kill it if you're holding onto me for dear life." he watches the way your eyes dart towards the grip on his bicep, and you quickly release him, taking a small step backwards.

now with his arm free, he approaches the tub again, and this time when he brings the sandal down, it finds the spider, smacking the unwanted insect with a sickening plat.

you practically gag, wringing out your hands in disgust at the sound.

matthew looks at you again. "you good?"

hesitantly, you nod. "yeah."

thankfully matthew cleans up the remnants of the spider from your white tub with some toilet paper, eliminating any disturbing evidence of its existence.

as he does, and your frantic state comes back down to normal, you come to the shuddering realization of what's happening—matthew, the man you haven't since since your impromptu sleepover, is standing in your bathroom—all while you cry and stand naked under a robe.

he flushes the paper down your toilet, the hallow flush echoing through your ears. matthew turns back to you, sending you a closed mouth, awkward smile.

you hate this—this isn't the matthew you know. you hadn’t realized how much you missed his annoying remarks and infuriating smirk until you no longer had them. you're panicking again, expect this time it's because you don't want him to leave and you never see him again.

you clear your throat, stepping in his path. "I haven't seen you."

his brows pull tightly, eyeing you up and down curiously. "what do you mean?"

"you've been avoiding me." you huff, nerves settling low in your belly. you’re not even worried about how desperate you sound, and you play with the string of your robe with nervous, trembling hands.

"only because you've been avoiding me." he retorts firmly.

"what?" you breathe roughly—exasperated. even though you so badly want to say that you haven't, it would be a lie. you have been avoiding him, and clearly he's caught onto the fact. so you decide to play coy, and somewhat petty, crossing your arms. "i'm literally with you right now."

matthew snickers. "not by choice."

"and since when have I ever spent time with you by choice?" you question lightly.

matthew's almost playful expression falters, and a more serious look blossoms over his features. he swallows gently, adam’s apple bobbing prominently. "since you've never decided to walk away."

your mouth opens, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. you blink once, and then again, feeling nothing less than speechless from matthew's words.

his eyes dart over your face, taking in your seemingly surprised reaction. he too blinks roughly, shaking his head slightly as if he didn't mean to say that aloud. matthew clears his throat once, "i'm sorry for being all weird these past couple weeks," he pauses, eyes finding yours, "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you frown. "you didn't." a gentle, shaky laugh leaves you, "if I'm remembering correctly, I begged you to stay."

his lips quirk upwards in a smile, "more like pleaded."

"okay!" you laugh in amused disbelief, covering your eyes with a still shaking hand. "don't remind me."

"but you see, this reaction is going to make me remind you at every possible opportunity." matthew teases, reaching towards you until his fingers gently brush yours, moving your hand away from your blushing face.

your eyes flicker back to his, smile falling as you blink up at him. you gulp gently, feeling your stomach swoop with a combination of emotions—nerves, confusion, fear, denial...need.

matthew's eyes slowly trace over you face, lingering on your damp lips before reluctantly tearing his gaze away. but he can't help but to drink you in further, admiring your exposed neck and collarbones—the fuzzy peach housecoat and the crazy hair—the silver initial necklace hanging around you, dangling above your sternum like the perfect accessory. it's all so new and so you.

your gazes meet again, and this time you sigh, a breathy noise that shoots right through matthew.

you blink, and without knowing what to do, you look away, back towards the shower. "how do you know there's no more spiders?" you question timidly, an awkward, unsure laugh following.

matthew holds onto his sigh, turning back to the bathtub. he puts his hands on his hips, stepping closer. "hello? anybody here?" he directs into the shower, looking around the porcelain white walls comically.

you smile fondly just as he looks back to you. "no more spiders."

something is seriously changing between you and matthew, and that makes you feel even more anxious than before. as you finally shower—speedily because you're still scared of the possibility of more creatures—and get ready for lunch, you can't help but wonder.

the what ifs and possibilities all involving your boyfriends roommate are very prevalent in your head, even as you begin to walk to a local campus cafe. as soon as you sit down, you're spilling your guts to cora.

no, you think, you can't like matthew because it's wrong—it's crazy. you're in a relationship, and a few months ago you hated him...at least, you thought you hated him.

and as you expressed it all to your friend, she listened with nothing but love and understanding. when you eventually stop your panicked ramble, cora sighs, looking at you like she just knows.

in that moment you know—the eyes never lie.

STAGE 5: Breaking

you scan the page of your textbook carefully, reading the history material in the hopes of applying it to your research assignment—but your mind is in a million other places.

since you've come to the realization 3 days ago that you have some sort of feelings for matthew, you haven't stopped thinking about him. you're still not sure what it is exactly you feel, so in all honesty you don't feel guilty about it—at least, not yet.

you blink, focusing your eyes as you attempt at reading the same paragraph again. the library is thankfully empty, meaning there's nobody to provide any type of distraction—the last thing you need is another distraction.

well, you're not completely alone, lucas is sitting across from you, typing away on his laptop as he attempts at starting his assignment that was due tomorrow. god, just thinking about that stresses you out. his legs stretch out underneath the table, invading your space, as well as his things spread across the tabletop—providing little to no breathing room.

all day there's been a lingering, awkward energy between you and lucas. he's been unusually quiet, and anytime he did talk to you it was quick and uninterested. unfortunately you've been too busy within your own head to notice the sharp glances he's been sending you, and the way his lips pull into a frown anytime you'd make a sigh of frustration or worry.

it was constant—and lucas was at his breaking point. as you have to restart the scentence again, a tiny huff leaving your lips, he shuts his laptop, the heavy click echoing throughout the library.

you look up quickly, brows pulled together as you eye him. "you okay?"

he huffs in disbelief, "your mind is like somewhere else recently—it feels like you're just a host of a body. it's like you don't even want to be with me." lucas tone is dripping with frustration, sounding nothing less then condescending and irritated.

you blink quickly, taken back from his sudden outburst. slowly, you put down the pen you'd been using to follow along with the words, eyeing lucas with a confusing tilt. is he joking? the last person who should be complaining about anything like this is lucas.

his face stays stern—looking at you like he's just watched you kill his dog. he's not joking.

you scoff quietly, but the disgusted tone is more than prevalent. "seriously? that's rich coming from you lucas. it feels like you haven't wanted to spend time with me for the past three months."

"that's not true." he retorts quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"is it not?" you question sarcastically.

"no!" lucas practically shouts, leaning on the table as he eyes you wildly. "you sound stupid right now."

the remark that you had dies on your tongue, mouth snapping shut. your jaw clicks as it tightens, anger coursing through you at lucas' insult. "how come you didn't take me home at that party a few weeks ago?" you question softly, a knowing look in your pointed gaze.

he wasn't expecting that, and it has him flattering slightly, leaning back as he blinks two quick times. lucas runs a hand through his unruly, light hair, tugging at the root in frustration—trying to think of answer.

"I don't know...fucking seemed like matthew had it under control." he swallows, pausing for a moment. "why does it matter?"

his admission give you confirmation you hadn't realized you'd been looking for. you laugh in disbelief, "yeah, well it seems like matthew is the only one who cares about me."

it was a low blow, one that has lucas' anger rising rapidly—but it was your truth, and you know that now.

"yeah too fucking much." he snarls.

"sorry that he cares about me—unlike you."

lucas jaw tightens, eyeing your face with a look you've never seen before. "we need to break up."

you look at him with disbelief and disappointment, your lip beginning to quiver. "so you're not even going to deny it? not even going to try and fight for me?"

this conversation has taken a turning point you weren't expecting—at least not today. there's nothing but anger between you, but yet you're not upset about being broken with. you're upset because you feel stupid, and everything you've feared about your relationship is true. lucas may love you, but he doesn't care about you.

his eyes flicker with something unknown, and he sighs, "I don't think you want me to."

you close your textbook and shove it into your bag, pushing off the table as you hastily get to your feet. "you're a dick." you don't wait for his response, leaving the library with your heart in your hands.

you push open the grand doors, and immediately you're enveloped in rain. you curse, tightening the hold on your book bag as you begin speed walking in the direction of your apartment. it seems that the rain only gets harder as you go, pelting against your skin like mini bullets and completely soaking you.

it's the cherry on top of everything, and you can't wait to get home, strip completely naked and cry in bed.

the sigh of relief is loud as you finally get back to the apartment building, walking into the lobby like a wet dog. you make a b-line to the elevators, not making your usual stop in the mail room—something that was habit anytime you'd come home.

you wring your hair out between your hands, the water hitting the elevator carpet with a small plopping noise. thankfully, it doesn't stop and you make it up to your door without any interruptions.

you sniffle away the emotion creeping up your chest, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. you only make it a few steps before a door is opening, distracting you.

it's lucas and matthew's apartment, and our steps the latter, gym bag slung over his shoulder. you come to a slow stop without meaning to, looking at him with a soft, yet curious gaze.

his eyes dart to you, but as soon as he sees the state your in he's moving, stepping closer to you with a worried expression. "woah...you okay?"

just the caring tone of his question has you welling up with tears, and it feels like everything is crashing down on you all at once. the confusion, the anger, the heartbreak, the lust, the curiosity...it's all there, drowning you.

you shake your head, mouth opening and closing unsurely. "I-I don't...i'm so." your voice is shaking, and you're borderline hyperventilating as you attempt at getting a coherent sentence out.

matthew lets his gym bag slip off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a hard thud. he takes ahold of your biceps, squeezing the fleshiest part firmly. "take a fucking breath, y/n, you're gunna make yourself sick."

closing your eyes, you take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down from the sudden emotional attack set upon yourself. it takes a minute, but eventually you feel yourself begin to relax, your heart rate slowly creeping back down.

you let your eyes flutter back open, meeting the concerned ones of matthew. your brows pull tightly, a nervous gulp following. "why are you looking at me like that, matthew?" your question is barley above a whisper, as if you were almost scared of the response.

"like what?" he breathes, not once breaking eye contact.

it's almost intimidating, but it's also confirming of so many things. but of course, you're hesitant—heck you're scared and nervous and so unsure about what's going on between you. your brows are still drawn together, creating a tiny indent in the middle of your forehead.

matthew has to fight every urge in his body to not run his thumb over the indent to smooth it out.

"like...like you fucking care about me. like you want me." you answer firmly, eyes frantically moving around matthew's face as you attempt at gauging his reaction.

he doesn't release the hold on your biceps, his gaze turning completely soft. "y/n." he says your name knowingly, fingers gently running up your arms. that’s his answer.

"matthew." you exhale shakily, distracted by the gentle pressure of his fingers on your skin. "you're making me all..."

"all...what?"

"confused." you say honestly, looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he's seen.

matthew swallows roughly, jerking his hands off your body like you just told him that's he's burning you. "i'm sorry"

the soft, hopeful look on his face doesn't falter, and if anything it increases. "no," you shake your head, "stop."

"what? stop apologizing?" he questions with a frown.

"no," you repeat, "stop looking at me like that."

a moment passes before he speaks again, his words laced with desire— stressing his words. "I can't."

another beat of silence, nothing but the hitching breath of both and you matthew to be heard. you lick onto your bottom lip, "lucas and I...we broke up."

"you did?"

you only get one nod out before matthew rushes forward, grasping your face like he's been waiting for the opportunity since he was put onto the earth. you tilt your head back instinctively, and it's just timed as matthew leans down to kiss you.

the kiss is instantly desperate, the clashing of lips and teeth alluding to so. your tongues glide across each others like second nature, elevating the kiss to a higher, more intense level. it's exhilarating—it's right.

you sigh into his mouth, trembling hands reaching up and grabbing onto matthew's wrists—keeping him against you. you've completely forgotten that you're soaked from head to toe, and how you've just had a fight with lucas that lead to a break up...it's all lost in matthew.

his hands slide farther back, fingers intertwining with your wet strands of hair. it's a gentle and welcoming pull, and you can't help but sigh in pleasure.

matthew follows suit, groaning into your messy kiss. it's been months and months of tip-toeing around one another, too scared to admit the truth in fear of ruining everything and everyone else along the way. but now it's just you two, and matthew can't help but moan at the thought.

the elevator doors slide open, and you’re both pulling apart instinctively at the sound.

but as lucas stands there, jaw ticking with anger as he stares at you—you know it's too late, and he's just seen you making out with his friend. or better yet, he's seen his friend making out with his newley ex-girlfriend.

"are you two fucking serious?"

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. it looks bad, you know it it does—mostly because it is bad. you've been thinking about matthew for much longer than you care to admit, and the first thing you did after getting broken up with is run into his arms—letting matthew kiss you like you're both horny teenagers.

"lucas..." matthew trails off, turning to his roommate with a guilty laced hesitation.

but lucas is only looking at you, that same disgusted smirk on his face from the library. "can't even remember the last time you kissed me, but yet the first thing you did after leaving the library was make out with my roommate. I didn't realize you were such a slut."

you inhale sharply, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

matthew rushes forward, and before he can logically think of the consequences of his actions, he punches lucas square across the face.

"matthew!" you gasp, moving towards the two men with concern pulling at your face. "no."

he doesn't hear you, looking at lucas as he clutches his jaw. matthew's gaze narrows, shaking out his hand. "don't fucking talk to her like that."

your ex-boyfriend laughs in a mixture of shock and disbelief, stretching his jaw out before he looks back at you. lucas doesn't say anything else, turning and leaving down the buildings stair well.

you're shocked, embarrassed and guilt ridden—your watery gaze locked on the empty space lucas was only moments ago occupying.

"y/n?" matthew questions gently, snapping you out of your own head.

you blink hard, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, I just need some space." you turn away from matthew before he has the chance to answer—mostly because you're too scared that if he begins to speak you'll crawl right back into his arms.

matthew watches you walk away, and all he can do is stand there, focused on your fleeting figure as he slip into your apartment—your lip trembling without another glance in his direction.

his face is contorted, not in anger, but in a look of concern. guilt flashes across his features, and he can't help but groan, running a palm over his face in frustration. did he just loose you for good?

you shut the apartment door behind you, and the tears begin falling down your face at a rapid pace. your lips tug into a frown, a sob wracking through you as you lean back against the door.

cora rounds the corner at the sound, her eyebrows pulled in concern. "what's wrong?" she breathes, rushing towards you.

"I did something terrible." you admit through your stuttering gasps, looking at your roommate with a million different emotions.

"honey..." she coos, wrapping you in a hug. your tears intensify as cora squeezes you in the embrace, and you bury your face in her shoulder to mask your desperate cry.

Epilogue

“god miller! just kiss me already!”

“no, not like this!”

you groan, falling into the couch cushions. the scene on the tv illuminates the room, the late afternoon sun hidden behind the blackout curtains you’ve had drawn since this morning.

nick and jess from new girl have not only been giving you entertainment all day while you mope around, but they’ve also been stupid cute and in love—it makes you want to die.

you’ve only been two places since the chaotic ending to last night; your bed which you cried in all night, and the couch which obviously you also cried on. you keep running through the events of yesterday—the breakup with lucas, finding matthew in the hallway, borderline confessing your feelings to him…kissing him. it felt good—so so good.

but just like that it was snatched from you, and the guilt riddling your body is just nerve wracking and wrenching. while you were kissing matthew, the last thing you were thinking about was lucas, and the possibility of him finding you both like that wasn’t even in your mind. but it happened and now everything feels like a mess—and you feel like an awful person.

you’ve clearly hurt lucas—that much was evident in the awful things he said to you. when you told cora everything last night, eyes stinging with tears and snot dribbling from your nose, she was quick to remind you that lucas never treated you good, and that no matter what he shouldn’t of said that to you.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, making you sit up—brows furrowed in question.

lucas

are you home?

you pause the tv quickly, all while reading the text over and over again as you try and make sense of it. what does he need? does he want to talk? is he going to yell at you? is he simply just curious? does he want to fix your relationship?

you hold your breath as you shakily type your reply.

y/n

yea

you exhale as it goes through, and in habit you bring your thumb to your lips, nerves consuming you as you begin gnawing on the skin around your nail.

your phone buzzes with an incoming message again.

lucas

can I come talk?

you swallow, sitting up straighter as you read his message. this can’t be good, you think—you’ve done nothing positive in the last twenty four hours that warrants a civil talk with your ex. you desperately want to ignore him—throw your phone across the room and get back to new girl on the tv.

a show that you only started watching because it’s matthew favourite—your brain reminds you. you look down at your phone again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate.

you deserve not only closure, but happiness—not matter what.

y/n

sure

you barley have a minute of speed running the apartment, picking up the empty tub of ice cream and what feels like hundreds on snotty tissues from your crying, before there’s a knock at your door.

even if you didn’t know he was coming over, would could tell it was lucas by the weight of the knock. it was soft, almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually be at your door. it always sounded like that.

before you back out, you pull open the door, revealing yourself to a deadpanned face lucas who’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. he gulps, eyeing your figure briefly. “can I come in.”

you nod reluctantly, stepping to the side to create enough room for him to slip inside your apartment. lucas sends you a forced smile as he enters, moving through your place like he’s done many times before.

the door shuts with a gentle click, but the room is so tense and quiet it sounds like a bomb. you follow suit, walking into the living room where lucas stands stagnant—eyeing around the apartment with an unsure expression. suddenly his eyes meet yours, “did you cheat on me?”

“no.” you tell him. “I would never cheat…on anybody.”

he sniffs, the sound annoying and disgusting—it’s like he’s trying to stay calm. “but you like him, right? you like matthew?”

you’re so used to trying to please him that you want to stay quiet—because you know if you admit your feelings for his friend, everything is going to completely change…more than it already has. and as lucas looks at you now, his gaze nothing but knowing, you decide you’re done trying to hide from him.

“I do.” you confirm. “but nothing ever happens, and…I didn’t even know when these feelings started. i’ve been so confused for the longest time, and I was scared because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” you pause, wringing out your trembling fingers as you collect your next thoughts. “but i’m sick of doing things for everyone else…and I need to let myself be happy—whatever that ends up being.”

lucas stay silent for a moment, but you can see his mind running a mile a minute. his eyes dart all over you, analyzing your face and body language—you’ve never seen him look at you so intently, and it has you wanting to shy away.

he sighs, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m sorry, y/n—for everything.”

your shoulders deflate, and you feel the emotion you’ve been suppressing since lucas texted you coming back to the surface. “thank you. i’m sorry too.”

“can I give you a hug?” his hesitance is evident, looking at you like he’s unsure of your response—how you’ll react. looking at him right now, you can’t be mad at him. not about your relationship, the breakup or the name he called you in his rage. lucas is a good guy, you know that—he’s just not the guy for you.

“yeah.” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

lucas takes the three steps of distance between you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he brings you into his chest. your hands find place around his waist, holding him against you in a wordless goodbye. his cheek rests on the top of your head, a comforting gesture that has your eyes flickering shut.

he takes a deep breath—his words quiet as he speaks. “I think we met for a reason, y/n. and that reason is matthew.” you feel lucas swallow against you, like he knows what he just said is the final nail in the coffin—everything starts now. “have you noticed how he looks at you?”

you pull back, and watch as the corner of his lips begin to turn upwards—the faintest smile growing. lucas may not like it, but he’s accepted it, and it’s feels better than anything you could imagine. your own smile begins to show, and you nod. “I have.”

matthew knies was an enigma—a giant, infuriating mystery that you never expected to entangle yourself in. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that you’re easily intrigued, especially when the enigma has always cared for you, no matter how rude and stupid you acted towards him.

perhaps you never hated matthew, but rather the way he made you feel. you hated the idea of being in love with him because you had a boyfriend, so you'd turn into an easily irritated girl, who secretly wanted nothing more then the attention of the boy down the hall. the boy who was more of a boyfriend than lucas could ever be. the boy who you don't hate, but love.

of course, there’s still the lingering feelings of confusion and nervousness—because you don’t know where you and matthew will go from here.

but later in the day, on you way back from your evening class, as the elevator doors open to your floor and matthew stands there—a grin growing on both your faces at the mere sight of one another…you think you have an answer.

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playlist

every breath you take (i'll be watching you) by the police

pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine

wrong by zayn

your needs, my needs by noah kahan

do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

each time you fall in love by cigarettes after sex

if I can't be with you by olivia obrien

I would by one direction

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies fic #matthew knies x reader #matthew knies fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl smut #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey smut #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs x reader #toronto maple leafs smut

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cuteandhughesy · 2 months ago

Note

i couldn’t not request another one lol (if that’s okay!)

can i please request prompt 41. “you’re it for me.” with sidney crosby!

you are the absolute best 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

“The Other Woman” | Sidney Crosby

summary: you thought your boyfriend sidney wanted you to support him at the four nations face off tournament, so it comes as a shock when you tells you to stay home—only to find out the stomach churning truth. prompt no. 41 from 100 celly list: “you’re it for me.”

[word count] 2.3k

warnings: angst | cheating | break ups | the reader is the other woman

a/n: okay this got like really angsty! my bad. (unedited)

🎵 the other woman by lana del rey

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your screen is frozen—just like you. you stare and stare and stare. a single tear falls down your face, but you’re mostly too confused to cry—too angry. the phone dims, a tell tale sign that it’s about to turn off, but you don’t let it, thumbing at the screen until it lights up again, illuminating your shock ridden face.

you almost didn’t see the picture. it almost slipped by you. your relationship almost didn’t crumble right before your very eyes. your chest is tight. aching—the beautiful picture of all the wags starting back at you, clad in red pleather team canada jackets.

you were so close to remaining blissfully unaware—innocent and stupid. but you saw it—saw her. a stunning smile and light brown hair, a little older than you but still radiant…with the number 87 patched on her arm.

you had shakily opened the comments and there it was, ‘crosby’s wife looks amazing.’

wife.

you almost threw up. your skin prickled with guilt and embarrassment and so much frustration, not only with yourself but with your boyfriend.

you’ve never really been into hockey. you didn’t pay attention to sports in general—neither did your family. you were younger, only 23, and found interests in other things. a year ago when you met sidney you were instantly smitten. he was charming and unapologetically kind, mature and experienced.

you feel in love quickly—almost impossibly quick. but it didn’t matter, not to either of you. sidney and you were in your own bubble, spending time together privately and in secluded places. you knew he played hockey—even though you didn’t care about hockey, sidney crobsy’s name wasn’t unknown to you.

maybe you should’ve done more research on the man you’re dating—maybe this going on under your nose is your own fault. a simple google search and a little bit of digging you would’ve seen that your boyfriend has a wife.

you would’ve found that you’re the other woman.

you now know that’s the reason sidney didn’t want you at the four nations tournament. he brushed off your comments about supporting him easily, telling you to stay home and relax—you deserved some time to relax. fuck, he even gave you some money to pamper yourself while he was away.

but it was all an excuse.

an excuse for sidney’s wife to remain unaware of her unfaithful husband. an excuse for him to ruin not only your life, but hers.

and now here you are, waiting for him to come over like he told you he was going to do when the plane landed back in pittsburgh. you wonder what excuse sidney told his wife. getting coffees? kris needing help at his house? picking up dry cleaning?

you feel so sick.

it could 20 minutes more before the front door creaks open—it could also be 20 seconds—you’re not sure. time feels like a roller coaster right now. unexpected ups and downs, twists and turns making your stomach swoop.

you get up from your spot on the couch, phone still clutched tightly in your hand. sidney kicks his shoes off by the door—clearly planning to stay awhile. planning to pretend he doesn’t have a wife at home who loves him.

“hey baby,” his deep voice calls from the front door, keys hitting your small oak cabinet next to the shoe rack and large fake plant you’ve had since high school.

baby.

it’s like a slap to the face. did he think you’d never find out? or maybe he just thought you were too stupid and young to figure it out.

you don’t answer him—you can’t. no yet. the sight of your face has sidney faltering, lips twitching into a half frown as you stalk towards him. just before he has the chance to coddle you, you shove the phone in his face.

it takes a moment for the picture to register, but you wait and watch patiently. sidney’s eyes scan your phone, and then he sees her. his wife. his skin turns a shade whiter, face falling before his eyes hoof back to your face.

finally, you find your words—stricken and laced with anger and defeat. “you have a wife? a wife!”

“yes.” sidney doesn’t bother trying to deny it. what’s the point? the proof is there, staring at him. you scoff, pulling your phone away and place it down beside his keys.

“where you ever going to tell me?” you ask him, “is that why you didn't want me to come out to the tournament with you?” he doesn’t respond, and somehow that feels worse than anything he could’ve possibly chosen to say. the bridge of your nose begins to sting, a telltale sign that you’re going to cry. but you don’t want to cry. not yet. “god! here I was thinking that you were embarrassed of our age gap. but no, it's because your fucking wife was going.”

sidney sighs, running a large hand through his salt and pepper hair roughly—he’s frustrated. but not with you. sidney could never be angry with you. you’re too soft—too sweet. he’s only upset with himself. he sighs, y/n. please.”

“does she know?” you push, ignoring his desperate and soft plea. “does your wife now you've been fucking me?”

“no.”

you laugh in disbelief, covering your face with your palms as you feel the familiar hot sting of tears welling up in your eyes. “oh my god,” you whisper pathetically, “I feel sick.” you’ve never wanted to become this person—nobody in their right mind should want to be the other woman.

you’re a girls girl. always. and this feeling, right now, proves why. you’re so embarrassed for yourself—you should’ve been more careful, more diligent about your love life. you should’ve known.

the way your voice cracks has sidney breaking. he never wanted to hurt you, despite everything he’s put you through—even if you hadn’t realized. he frowns, stepping towards you like it’s second nature. sidney is desperate to touch you and console you and make everything better.

“I know,” he breathes, hands enclosing around your wrists, tugging your hands away from your tear stained face. “I messed up.”

you scoff, shrugging off his hold. “you did more then mess up, sidney,” you take a step back, an incredulous laugh leaving you. “you've ruined this. you've ruined my life and hers.”

he shakes his head, “don't say that.”

you sniffle, doing your best to keep ahold of your wave of new emotions. it’s not just about you…nor anymore. you feel for this woman, more than she’ll ever know. you shake your head at him, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. you’re shaking.

“I don't even know what to say to you,” and it’s true. what do you say to the man you love—a man who just turned your world inside out and back again. sidney is looking at you like he’s hurt. and maybe he is hurting, but it’s at the cost of his own actions, so don’t feel bad.

even if the sight of his emotion struck face is killing you.

you turn away, walking into the small kitchen. you need to distract yourself in some way. allow yourself to have a moment to breathe. your hands are still trembling as you open the fridge, weakly grabbing a plastic water bottle. your bring it to your lips, sipping just enough to coat your dry mouth.

of course sidney followed you, looking at you desperately from the other side of the kitchen island—giving you the space you need. “say nothing,” he says, “just please hear me out.”

you cross your arms defensively after you put the water in between you on the island. the plastic crinkles and pops through the silent kitchen. you sigh with exhaustion, “what is there to hear you out on? i'm not going to be the other woman. I deserve more than that.”

“you do,” sidney exhales desperately, fingers digging into the edge of the counter top like he’s trying to physically hold himself back. give you that space. “of course you do.” there’s a pause then, and you watch as sidney contemplates what he wants to say next.

his eyes stay on you, analyzing you—your mind, heart and thoughts. you want to shrink away from his gaze. it’s too intense and to familiar.

because two weeks ago when he looked at you like this, it was different.

“i'll call it off with her if that's what you want,” sidney says after a beat, voice dropping. he’s firm, definitive.

your breath hitches, “of course I don't want that.” and you mean it. sidney’s not yours, even when you thought he was. and you’re certainly not his—you don’t get to discredit his life of his decisions.

and certainly not his marriage.

the sound of sidney’s palm coming down on the counter top makes you jump. his anger is surprising. he’s always showed you calmness—like he’s always got it all figured out. but this is different. sidney’s lost control. with you with your relationship and with his emotions.

it breaks you. as much as you don’t want to feel anything for him in this moment, seeing him so distraught is heartbreaking. because it’s not like you fell out of love with sidney crosby at the snap of your fingers—you fucking wish it was that easy. but it never is.

because he’s still sidney. he’s the man who held you on the couch after a bad day at work, and cooked you your favourite meal when you’d been to tired to get off the couch. the boyfriend who kissed you with such tenderness and fucked you with such passion. sidney, who in only a year, become your home…your safe place.

he curses, palm flattening as he attempts to recollect himself. sidney’s head falls for a moment, chest heaving with a million unshed emotions. it feels like forever until he looks at you again, eyes glossed over just enough to let you know what truly he’s feeling—frustration, heartbreak, guilt.

“then what?” he asks gently, “what do you want me to do?” you’ve begun crying again, hot tears streaming silently down your face. slowly, you shrug—a response. sidney can’t hold back any longer. he walks around the island, and when he wraps you in his arms, you let him.

it feels good, but not the same. you don’t hung him back, arms trapped between your chests while sidney’s muscled and strong forearms hold your shoulders. you sob pathetically, hiding your face in sidney’s hoodie.

the emotion is raw and painful. you don’t even know what to do with yourself. you want that comfort—need it—and you don’t have anybody in pittsburgh besides sidney. so for a moment you allow yourself to be coddled. you pretend that he’s not the man that hurt you.

you don’t know how to answer him. not right now.

“you're it for me,” sidney mumbles after a beat, lips pressing to the top of your head so softly and tender. “you're my life.” his arms tighten around you, desperately trying to keep you close—to make you hear him. really hear him.

“so is she,” you mumble watery, pushing off his chest. it’s not rough, but firm enough to let him know you need out.

sidney lets you go, but he doesn’t walk away. “no,” he shakes his head, “she's not.”

you swallow. you feel awful. “she's your wife.”

“and you’re the love of my life.”

silence envelopes the kitchen again as sidney’s words settle in your chest. although he may mean what he’s said, that doesn’t make the situation any better. you can’t be selfish with him—not when you’re the third party.

all you can think about right now is if you were his wife. if it was you he was unfaithful with, what would you want him to do. because that’s the answer you’ve been searching for.

“I want you to tell her,” you whisper. sidney’s face shifts like he doesn’t know how to react yet, but you don’t give him the opportunity to figure it out right now. “tell her and figure it out. if she wants a divorce then that's what you'll do. if she wants to work on your marriage, than that's what you'll do. you'll do whatever she wants, sidney, because that's what I want. and if you care about me at all, you'll do what l ask of you.”

a moment passes. sidney looks down at you softly, in thought. slowly he nods his head—that’s the best response he can give right now. but right now it’s enough for you, and finally—finally—feel like you can take a breath.

“i'm sorry.”

“because you were caught?” your response is petty and hurtful—you know that.

but sidney just blinks, “because I hurt you.”

his correction is so sidney. always caring and loving, never wanting you to feel less than. it’s not your fault, and he’s letting you know that without physically saying the words. he takes ahold of your face between his warm palm, thumbs stroking your cheekbones like he’s done so many times.

you wish you don’t love him—you wish you didn’t love the way he held you so perfectly. he knows your cues and what you need when you’re upset, and this right here is proof of that.

and that hurts more than anything.

“i'll tell her,” sidney breathes, “and if she wants to work on it...i'll stay with her. but if she doesn't want to work on it, and she wants a divorce, what does that mean? for us?”

a beat passes, “I don't know yet.”

#🍾 ⊹˚₊ 1000 celly #🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #❣️answered #sidney crosby blurb #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #hockey blurb

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cuteandhughesy · 6 months ago

Text

Baby Please Come Home | Vince Dunn

summary: you used to have a crush on your best friends older brother even though you’re pretty sure he wasn’t that fond of you—that is until he breaks your heart after he kisses you during a game of spin the bottle. years later, when your parents flight gets canceled while they’re away on holiday, you are graciously invited to spend the christmas holiday with your best friends family - vince and his sour attitude included.

[word count] 20.5k

a/n: the beginning of cute and hughesy’s christmas special! hope you enjoy the first week 🎄

🎵christmas (baby please come home) by mariah carey

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2014: freshman year of highschool

the noises around you are distracting - a mixture of loud laughter and singing, combined with the bass riddled music vibrating through your bones on top of the various conversations happening around you.

you eye the mingling crowd around you, watching as teenagers older than you easily chat to one another. they don't look worried or anxious - they look nothing like you're feeling.

"I didn't think they still played games like this in highschool." you best friend sammy says into your ear, her tone hushed as to not attract attention to either of you.

"me either." you admit gently. "but clearly they do."

she huffs, crossing her arms over her red top. sammy has been your best friend since the first grade when her mom and dad moved their family down the street from yours. obviously you both attended the same small town school, and since then you two have been inseparable.

sammy has always been the type of girl that everyone loves. she's the sweetest soul you've ever known, but she's not afraid to stand up for herself and tell somebody off if they need to hear it. not only does she have the most amazing personality, but she's ungodly beautiful. with her thick and shiny dark hair, as well as her naturally tinted lips, and long lashes framing her large, green eyes - she's ethereal.

ever since the two of you started your freshman year of high school four short months ago, she has been getting lots of attention, especially from the senior boys. to be ultra specific, the high school hockey team in particular was the most fond of sammy - regardless of how she was related to the assistant captain.

much to sammy's older brother vince's dismay, the hockey team had invited sammy to this party that the two of you were currently at. you weren't technically extended an invitation, but sammy would've never gone to her first high school party without you - so here you both are.

you don't know what you were expecting at a high school party. sure, the alcohol and weed was something that was a given, but sitting on the floor with various hockey players and senior girls while you all took turns spinning a bottle - well that was surprising.

the game of spin the bottle happening in front of you was definitely the cause of your growing nerves. because not only did you have to spin the bottle and kiss whoever it landed on - but you and sammy were informed you'd be spending '7 minutes in heaven' with said person, where the kiss would actually take place, rather than infront of everyone.

so that had your nerves dampening slightly - but the kissing part of it all was still having you feeling anxious - the mere fact that you haven't had your first kiss yet was the main contributor.

"do you think jake and I will end up in the closet?" sammy giggles softly, her eyes drifting to the other side of the circle where jake matthews is chatting with vince, leisurely sipping his beer - paying no mind to the game happening right in front of him.

you shrug, your eyes also trained in their direction. "well if he spins and It lands of you - those are the rules right?"

sammy then starts to get giddy like she usually does when thinking and talking about jake matthews and she immediately starts whispering to you about how he's her future husband and how much she's in love with him.

at the same time, as if he can feel your stare from the other side of the circle, vince's eyes flicker to yours. thankfully his conversation with jake doesn't stop because jake is the one who's doing most of the talking, so nobody takes notice to the way vince is looking at you.

sammy's words are falling on deaf ears unbeknownst to her - the gaze you are locked in with her brother has completely captivated your attention.

like usual vince doesn't smile or acknowledge you in any way, he just keeps his eyes on you, almost as if he was assessing you through the strangers dimly lit living room.

you squint at him accusingly - as if to ask what's his deal. you're not expecting any type of response because you've never gotten one from vince in regards to his grumpy persona - the grumpy persona he seems to only have around you.

"are you listening?" sammy elbows you in the side. your black knitted sweater provides no cushion as her elbow smacks against your ribs, and it effectively has you breaking eye contact with vince.

"what?" you hiss, rubbing your side.

"it's your turn." sammy's eyes widen and her gaze frantically switches between you and the empty beer bottle sitting in the middle of the carpet.

you can feel your face pale and heat up all at the same time. it shouldn't be as big of a deal as you feel it is - but you can't help your mind and heart from racing, your blood pumping loudly through your ears.

almost everyone in the circle was looking in your direction, waiting for you to take your turn.

"right." clearing your throat, you push up off your butt and do an awkward crawl combined with a reach to grab ahold of the empty bottle.

you give it a good spin, watching it swivel with momentum on top of the fuzzy textured rug. you move back into your seated position, not once taking your eyes of the direction of the spinning glass.

it slows and only makes it around one more complete circle before stopping. when sammy gasps quietly and the group all wolf whistles around you, your nerves max out. you don't want to look up and find who your spin has landed on - you're scared to see who it landed on and the reaction around you wasn't helping.

reluctantly you follow the direction of the bottles neck, looking upwards until you are met with the familiar green eyed gaze of your best friends older brother.

your face falls in shock - mimicking the expression on vince's face who too looks very unimpressed with the outcome of your bottle spin.

you attempt to spin again, asking if it was possible with these seemingly strict rules set by the hockey team - but no. much to your and vince's dismay nothing works and you're both ushered into one of the empty bedrooms for your required '7 minutes in heaven.'

the door clicks shut behind you, and your nerves have you feeling slightly wobbly and lightheaded. this wasn't the situation you were expecting tonight and you certainly weren't prepared to spend 7 minutes in heaven with your best friends older brother.

but vince doesn't seem to be too bothered with the situation now that he's in the room, his earlier shocked expression faded away. vince sits down before he flips backwards onto the perfectly made bed, closing his eyes and loudly exhaling.

you knaw on your lip, trying to think of something to say. he's clearly annoyed with this whole situation, because he seems to always be annoyed with you - you swear you could polish his shoes and cook him his favourite meal and he'd still give you that dead stare.

in a desperate attempt to try and ease the thick tension that's everlasting between you (even though you've never had a clue as to why), you move towards vince and nudge your foot against his.

one eye opens as he peeks up at you, a questioning raise to his eyebrow. he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't move - his foot still touching yours.

"i'm sorry," you start, "I should've tried harder to convince everyone to let me spin again. i've never been to a party before though and I didn't want to upset anyone - especially because I wasn't technically invited and only came because sammy wanted me to."

vince still doesn't say anything. he pushes up with his elbows, back into his original sitting position at the end of the bed. he looks up at you blankly, and like usual he's not giving away any of his emotions.

the position has you feeling awkward - you looking down at vince while he silently and lazily blinks up at you. you wring your hands out and take a seat beside him, the mattress dipping until you're sliding into his torso.

your nervous ramble continues. "although maybe I should be happy the bottle landed on you instead of some other asshole who probably would've started groping me by now - like how embarrassing would it have been turning down evan russell because I haven't even had my first kiss yet, never mind hooking up-"

"you've never been kissed?" vince interrupts you.

you heat up, a bright pink hue covering your cheeks and up to the tips of your jewelry decorated ears. "no...and obviously these lips won't be touching evan russell's anytime soon. at least not until I can properly and confidently go into a situation like this-" you gesture between the two of you wildly "-without my stomach falling down to my feet."

vince hums quietly to himself, and his eyes dance over your face slowly - analyzing you. "you talk way too much."

your head snaps completely over in his direction, and your eyebrows pull together in irritation. "excuse you. I don't talk too much, what are you even saying right now-"

vince kisses you.

he confidently pulls you closer towards him with a guiding hand on the back of your neck, his fingers sliding through your hair in a way that gives you goosebumps. his lips are soft and taste like cheap beer, but the way he licks onto your bottom lip expertly has you completely captivated and not even the reality of the situation could snap you out of it.

vince kisses softer than you expected - a complete contrast to his hard exterior. the way his lips move against yours is almost comforting and relaxing and although you have absolutely nothing to compare it to - it feels good.

you breathe shakily against him, the unexpected pleasure from a simple kiss taking you by surprise.

the door opens and you both jump apart. vince immediately gets off the bed and walks out the room, brushing past a few of the guys from the hockey team - mumbling something to them you don't catch. vince doesn't spare you a second glance as he leaves, and that has you feeling very uncertain and confused.

you get up, ignoring the guys snickering and eyes as you walk down the hallway and back into the main area of the house. even though you'd technically been caught making out with vince, nobody had seemingly saw anything that proves it and by the bored look on everyone's faces from sitting through another 7 minutes of waiting around, they don't suspect anything.

you return to the circle, taking your original seat beside sammy, she instantly turns to you with her eyes blow wide. "are you okay? did anything happen?"

you can only pray your best friend doesn't notice your rose tinted cheeks or puffy lips - incriminating evidence that contradicts your shaking head. "no. nothing happened."

sammy laughs with relief for you. "thank god - my brother is so disgusting."

"yeah." you laugh softly.

the rest of the night, vince doesn't meet your gaze.

it has you feeling very icky and....confused. is this a usual occurrence after making out with somebody you've known your whole life? was vince kissing and not following up with any sort of interaction a normal thing for him?

so hours later, way after vince's mom had picked you all up from the party and brought you back to the dunn house (vince had hockey practice early, of course), you were determined to figure out what the hell happened in that bedroom and what it meant.

getting out of the creaky bed, you sneak out of sammy's room, leaving her and her loud snoring behind in favour of quietly making your way down the upstairs hallways - down towards closed door of vince's bedroom.

you knock once - quietly - on his door, praying that he's not yet gone to sleep and he heard your knock.

thankfully, vince answers. the door opens just a crack, his brows pulled together in confusion as he catches sight of your familiar stature through the gap - his face falls.

he pulls open the door fully, revealing his shirtless torso and pyjama pants that sat dangerously low on his chiseled hips. momentarily you're distracted. you can't help it - your teenage hormones are out of whack after that toe curling first kiss.

"what?" he huffs, crossing his arms.

you mimic his actions subconsciously. "are you going to talk to me after that?"

his brows raise questionably. "after....?"

"after you kissed me, vince."

he hums. "right, the kiss - why would I want to talk about it?"

you shrug, exasperated. "maybe because you and I have never done that before - I've never done that before."

"and?" he's looking at you expectantly.

"and," you huff, "I don't know what it means."

his face changes into something you can't decipher - maybe guilt, or possibly anger. it could even be a new version of his usual bored expression - you're not sure. vince exhales, and his arms uncross in favour of running a hand through his messy curly hair.

he meets your unsure eyes. "it means nothing, y/n. you're my little sisters best friend, okay? nothing will ever happen between us. and I know it was your first kiss or whatever, but it wasn't mine. I only kissed you so you'd stop talking, so don't be weird or annoying about it 'cause it's going to piss me off."

vince's words have you taking a visible step back, your face pulling uncomfortably as embarrassment crawls up your chest.

even though vince has never been your biggest fan, you've always liked him. there was something about vince that always has you feeling drawn in, and you always find yourself spotting him in a crowd or looking for him in a room full of others.

he was your first real crush and ever since you met him back when you were 8 and vince was turning 11, you've found yourself completely smitten with him - regardless of his grumpy and rude attitude directed towards you.

so hearing those words hurt. because after the kiss - a kiss that he initiated- you thought there could've been a small possibility that he changed his opinion of you...that he liked you back.

but clearly not.

"it doesn't matter what I do because it will piss you off regardless." you spit out, looking at him with a completely different view than you ever have before.

all vince does is roll his eyes - and that is the final nail in your coffin.

you should've given up on trying to crack vince dunn a long time ago, but the way he turned such an amazing first experience for you into a heartbreaking story is something you'll never forget- vince will forever be apart of you, no matter how badly you try to change it.

"are you done throwing a hissy fit now? i'm tired."

"yeah," you send him a sarcastic smile, the anger towards him and the situation practically vibrating off you, "i'm done."

you walk away, back down the hall in the direction of sammy's room. from this day forward, you vow to yourself to never treat vince with any less disrespect than he shows you.

you will never like vince dunn again.

christmas: 2024, december 21st

"are you guys serious right now?"

"yes honey, there's nothing we can do." your moms burnt skin is practically blinding you through the facetime video, and you can hear her beaded braids clicking against one another as he peeks over your dads shoulder.

through the phone, your dad sends you a guilty look. "because of the island's location, they only have flights once a week and due to the storm down here all flights have been cancelled for today and won’t make it out until next week."

you make a disgruntled noise, "but that will be after christmas. so i'm just supposed to spend christmas alone? - my first christmas since evan dumped me, let's not forget that mom and dad."

"i'm sorry dolly," your mom pouts, "we are upset about it too."

"yeah well at least you get to be together and spend time on a tropical island. i'm stuck in a constant freezing temperature by myself."

"don't make us feel bad honey." your dad scolds gently. it's a reminder that it's not your parents fault for their flight getting cancelled regardless of how upset you are.

you're still a little salty towards them for not bringing you on their vacation so close to christmas though, so you're allowed to feel a little annoyed.

you sigh gently, "I know i'm sorry, this just sucks." your eyes drift past your phone, finding the twinkling lights of your childhood christmas tree. your mom insists on having all the shitty ornaments you made when you were a kid still on the tree, accompanied by twinkling red and green lights that she's had since before you were born. the angel on top is missing a wing and the tree skirt is ripped but you wouldn't change it for the world.

another wave of sadness hits you as the reality sets in - you're about to be alone on christmas.

"I know - ah crap my phones about to die." your dad curses, and through the screen you watch him attempting to get rid of the low battery notification.

your mom rolls her eyes at your dads antics before she looks back at you through your phone. "we love you honey, we're sorry."

"I love you guys too."

"keep in touch, okay."

you give your parents a small smile, resting your cheek against your palm. "I will."

your parents hang up - you're not sure if it was them pressing the button or if your dads phone died, but your screen returns to normal as your mom and dads faces disappear.

you sigh gently. the house feels more empty than it did when you answered the call, knowing that you'll now be alone in it until after the holiday season is just...depressing. if this was any other year you would've invited your boyfriend over for the holiday, or perhaps you would've stayed with him and his family - but evan russell broke up with you four months ago after your college graduation.

dating one of the guys on the senior boys hockey team in high school was one of those things you weren't expecting to happen, but it just weirdly did and it worked. you two started seeing one another not long after that party where you and vince kissed - which still sends your blood boiling, by the way. evan has asked you out one day after class, and dating one of his friends pissed vince off even more.

you and evan dated for years - all through high school and college. but two weeks after your graduation, he called it off and said he needed to explore being himself and wished you well. although the breakup hurt and felt very unexpected, you respected evan and wanted what was best for him. that was until a week after the breakup you saw him posting pictures with his new girlfriend - and the respect vanished.

you open your text thread with sammy and click on the camera icon. you take a picture of yourself pouting in front of the christmas tree, looking very alone and very sad in your elf pyjamas.

y/n

these are my new christmas plans

sammy

what? wearing pyjamas still at 3 in the afternoon ?

y/n

no.

y/n

being alone on christmas. my parents flight got canceled and because the island is super remote they can't get another flight in until boxing day

y/n

so leave me and my christmas jammys alone

sammy

I love your jammys

sammy

but WHAT omg - you're not spending christmas alone

y/n

nothing I can do about it sammy

immediately after she reads the text, you get an incoming facetime call from sammy - the picture of her when she was 15 with spaghetti sauce all over her face you saved as her contact photo flashing on the screen.

you slide the answer bar, already expecting the brazen look she'll be sporting. but oddly enough, she's got an unsettling smirk on her face and you're immediately groaning. "why are you looking like you're planning on kidnapping me?"

"because I'm going to kidnap you," sammy laughs, and through the camera you watch as she sits up into a more straight position on the family couch. "mom says get over here."

just then tracy dunn pops over her daughters shoulder. she's got her apron on and you can spot the explosions of flour on the christmas cover up - she's clearly been starting early on her holiday baking. tracy gives you a stern look, "y/n honey you're not spending christmas alone - especially when you have family right here in this house. pack a bag and one of us will come get you."

in your junior year of high school sammy and the dunn family moved. thankfully, they stayed in your small southern ontario town, but instead of living two houses down from you and your family, they became a twenty minute drive away.

the garland in the doorway above sammy's head twinkles, and another pang of christmas blues hits you. a warm and inviting home with some of your favourite people was something you definitely couldn't pass up.

you eye sammy and her mom and a smile begins to grow at your lips. "okay, I'll put some stuff together for a few days."

"you're staying until your parents get back - sammy said boxing day, right?"

sammy's such a little snitch, you think. to prove your point, your best friend sends you a triumphant smile through the phone.

"yes but I don't want to oppose-"

"that's ridiculous," tracy interrupts, "you could never. sammy hang up the phone and stop distracting her, she needs to pack."

"alright." sammy moves the phone so that only she's in view, that cheeky smile still on her face. "you better go."

you nod, "if you think i'm changing out of these pyjamas though you'd be wrong."

she laughs, "i'll see you soon."

"see you soon, sammy."

she hangs up and you're immediately pushing off the couch. you pack your things as quickly as you can, gathering a weeks worth of clothes, toiletries and your favourite one direction pillow - you figure if you forget anything you can just steal sammy's.

just as you've double checked everything unnecessary is unplugged from any of the outlets, a horn honks outside - two quick beeps that alert you. you peek out the front window and see sammy's blue toyota idling in your driveway.

you grab your bag, pillow and your house keys before slipping on your winter gear over your movie themed pyjamas - the bottoms bulking up around your boots in a way that makes you look wildly non put together.

you walk wearily through the icy snow coating your driveway. you've never been good at removing snow, and you honestly should've left it and not attempted to shovel the driveway - because now you're walking on uneven, slippery, half completed snow piles.

you get in the car quickly, rubbing your hands together to create some friction - attempting to warm up your already freezing fingers. you pause to shut the car door, as well as buckle your seat belt over your puffy jacket.

the car is pulling out of your driveway before you can even fathom your surroundings. sammy has always been a nervous driver, especially in the winter, so her speedy take off has you frowning in confusion.

as you finally look towards the driver's side of the car, your face falls and suddenly the driving style makes sense.

vince eyes you quickly before finding the snow covered street again. "nice pyjamas."

"what are you doing here?"

"what am I doing here?" he repeats your question with a stupid smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he uses one hand to turn onto the main road. "i'm picking you up."

"no I mean what are you doing back home?"

vince shoots you an inquisitive glance. "you kind of just answered the question - it's my home."

"no," you correct, "seattle is your home."

"you keeping tabs on me, y/n?" he's clearly trying to get a rise out of you and you know him too well for that tone to fly under your radar. since that dreaded kiss between you both in high school, vince's attitude towards you changed - well, sort of. instead of the quite and bored attitude vince had for you, it has turned into something more mocking and insulting where he seemed to go out of his way to annoy you and push your buttons.

but you vowed to not give him the satisfaction of your ignorance and just ignore him - absolutely not. so you made sure you were just as petty and reciprocated every comment, action and insult. "I don't have to keep tabs on you to know you've been in seattle for a few years vincent - did you get injured again? is that why you're here?"

he tongues his cheek, rolling his eyes at your jab. "no, my schedule worked out so I can be home until boxing day."

your eyes widen, "so you'll be here the entire week?"

"don't sound too excited." vince breathes out a laugh, eyes flickering to yours again. "or I'll start to think you like my company."

"like is a very strong word." you sigh irritatedly and cross your arms. your coat makes that awkward friction noise, and all that does is further your annoyance. you turn your head to watch through the window - the sights of snow covered branches glistening in the sun, combined with the glowing lights of christmas light up the dimming sky.

you hear vince move after he makes the turn off the highway, and the sound of some shitty country song gets louder over the cars speakers. vince has always loved country, which has obviously ruined any kind of country song for you - you pray for a day when you can listen to old taylor swift without thinking of vince dunn.

the loud music has you huffing and you break your silent treatment in favour of turning down the radio - blanketing the inside of the toyota in silence.

vince shoots you an unamused look and before he has a chance to speak, or worse, turn the song back on, you interrupt him. "it's christmas, at least play something festive if I have to be trapped in this car with you for another 10 minutes."

"by all means, go ahead and get out of the car. i'll even slow down a bit so you don't hurt yourself too bad jumping out." he gestures to the car door beside you, his eyes darting quickly between you, the road, and the door.

"oh wow and here I thought you enjoyed being in here with me - I'm hurt, vincent, really." you hold your heart for a petty affect, pouting sarcastically over at him.

he laughs, a deep grumbling noise that has your smile faltering slightly. "oh please it's not like i'm here voluntarily-"

"that's a big word - who taught you that one?" you interrupt him, furthering your closed off position by crossing your pyjama covered legs. you merely miss the dial on the radio with your foot, and your anklet slides up your calf awkwardly.

the new position has your pant leg shifting so your leg is somewhat exposed. you feel momentarily embarrassed at the sight of your pale and prickly leg and instantly have the urge to change your seating position. but you don't, because you don't want vince to think you're uncomfortable- you can't give him that sort of satisfaction.

"nobody else could pick you up. that's why I'm here." vince continues right from where he left off, before you interrupted him about his 5th grade vocabulary.

you had already assumed that was the reason for vince's suprise arrival. with tracy always elbow deep in baking this time of year, john working the late shift this week and sammy's hectic winter driving - vince was the only option (even though you didn't know he was an option until he showed up - you figured he'd be in seattle like every other year).

"well If I knew that I would've stayed home." you huff.

vince eyes your boot covered foot as you anxiously shake it - with every jump it almost hits the volume dial. he mimics your deep sigh and rolls his eyes. "I wish you would've."

you don't say anything and keep your eyes trained through the front windshield. as dinner time approaches, the streets are starting to become enveloped in darkness, leaving you with that blue christmas light longing.

you can feel vince's gaze switching between the side of your face and the road, and you know it's only a matter of seconds before he spews some more nonsense that will leave you wanting to actually throw yourself out the car.

like predicted, vince starts to speak again, his unfortunately familiar voice filling the quiet rumble in the car. "how come you're not spending christmas with evan anyways? I saw that he was back home."

your head snaps in vince's direction so quickly you think there's a high possibility you've given yourself whiplash. you attempt to read his expression- trying to figure out if he was egging you on with bringing up your failed relationship or if he actually didn't know.

you decide it's the latter based on the way vince isn't even looking at you while he waits for a response, and his eyebrows are pulled together as he focuses on driving through the deep snow - he’s not watching you for a reaction.

you clear your throat quietly and look back to the road. "spending the holidays with my ex and his new girlfriend would've been a bit awkward, don't you think?"

he looks at you quickly, an unreadable expression on his flushed face . "I didn't know."

"why would you know? it's not like you would've asked about me for anything besides trying to benefit yourself."

you don't give him the opportunity to say anything else and you reach over yourself to turn the volume back up. to your surprise, vince has christmas music in his playlist and the familiar melody of michael buble fills the car.

the rest of the car ride neither you or vince say anything and choose to stew in the slightly awkward silence - the awkwardness being from the bombshell you've just dropped that you're no longer dating his friend from high school. thankfully he doesn't turn off the music like you'd done to him earlier, and the songs provide a comfortable white noise over everything else.

once vince pulls the car into his families driveway, you're immediately jumping out, grabbing your bag and pillow you'd left at your feet and booking it up the small set of stairs and into the cinnamon scented home.

you spot sammy who is still lounging in the same spot that she was in when you answered her call 30 minutes ago.

she meets your eyes and sends you a mix of a guilty and sympathetic smile, as if she was apologizing for the pain she knew you would've endured with vince picking you up without warning.

"you dick." you huff towards her. "no warning or anything?" your words have no bite as you're plopping yourself between the back of the couch cushions and sammy, cuddling into your best friends side.

she laughs, "If I told you, you wouldn't of gotten in the car."

you shrug. "would that have been so bad?"

sammy scoffs, "yes because we need you here with us for christmas."

you emit a grumbling noise and tuck your face further into your best friends side. sammy laughs again, patting your head sympathetically.

sammy has never been bothered by your ongoing battle with her older brother. in the beginning, she was just as confused as you were about his seemingly unwarranted negative attitude and sammy would often try and change his mind about you. but as the years went on and you and vince got more heated, she just accepted the fate and chose to be blissfully ignorant towards any negative situation or argument that brews between you.

vince walks through the front door with you purse clutched in his hands - you must've forgotten it in your rush to leave the tension stewing in the car.

he shoots you an unimpressed look and tosses the bag near your outstretched socked feet. you have the tiniest urge to pick up your purse and throw it back right in his face, but your contemplation is halted as tracy enters the warmly lit living room, a matching smile on her face.

"you guys hungry?"

you look away from vince and his condescending smirk - like he could read your thoughts - and force a smile.

"starving." sammy jumps away from you and off the couch, her sock feet bounding around the corner and down towards the kitchen nook.

your cheek hits the cushion, smooshing your face into the fabricated sofa. vince snickers from where he's lounging on the lazy boy, and you're pretty sure his snickering is directed at you and your awkward pose.

you sigh, pushing off the couch with the palms of your hands until you can manoeuvre back onto your feet. you tug down the hem of your pyjamas top, pulling it back into a more appropriate position from where it had risen up.

you follow in your friends footsteps and make the short journey down the wide hallway until you reach the large archway entrance of the cosy kitchen. the sight before you is memorizing, and you pause to look around. tracy had completely decorated the kitchen for the holidays - faux trees and garland lining the countertops, along with red plaid hand towels and table cloth. ribbons, dried orange garland, and the scent of gingerbread are all apart of making the kitchen feel like the warmest, comforting, festive space.

"looks amazing tracy." you say, your eyes still walking throughout the room. "like seriously."

tracy smiles, adding another platter to the just as festive kitchen table - it looks like perfectly crispy bite sized potatoes and your mouth is already watering. since you're parents have been gone on vacation you've only been eating take out or frozen meals. you've never been a good cook - one time in college you almost set your microwave ablaze trying to heat up some pizza...you still don't know how that happened.

you hear vince's footsteps approaching behind you. he must've not been paying attention, because he runs right into the back of you, sending you stumbling a few steps forward.

you spin to face him, already feeling the irritated pull on your face.

vince huffs like you're the one who ran into him - which makes you want to knee him - and pockets his phone. clearly, you were right and he wasn't looking where he was going.

"vince," sammy's teasing voice calls from the stove, where she is dipping her fingers into the squash soup and sucking the creamy vegetable liquid off them. "better get out from underneath the mistletoe or else you'll have to kiss her."

her eyes gesture between her brother and you.

much to your dismay, there is some mistletoe delicately hung onto the archway above vince.

vince raises his eyebrow in question, but his face stays flat, not giving away any thoughts or emotions.

you turn away and finally walk further into the kitchen, immediately offering help to tracy with setting the table. after all, it's the least you could do after she invited you to stay with her and her family until christmas- plus it's gets you away from vince and his punchable face.

john gets home a few minutes later, greeting you all warmly. he doesn't even seem shocked by your presence in his home, and when you tell him you'll be staying for a few days - he's not at all fazed.

thankfully dinner doesn't leave space for you and vince to get into any type of tiff. you're too busy catching up with the rest of the dunn family to even look in vince's direction, which means you remain with an appetite for the entirety of dinner.

"oh!" tracy exclaims, jumping off her chair to gather a small jar set aside on the counter. it's ceramic and red, shaped like a gift. "I almost forgot, we have to pull the names for secret santa - and y/n honey don't worry i've slipped your name in here."

"oh, you didn't need to do that." you breathe, watching tracy take off the lid of the jar.

she dismisses you with a wave of her hand like she always does - a true mother like fashion. tracy makes her husband go first, and john digs around the pieces of paper for a few seconds for dramatic affect - tracy tuts her tongue at his antics.

john emerges with one slip, taking a sneaky peek at the name he pulled out. he groans playfully, thumping his palm against his forehead jokingly. it makes you and everyone else laugh, which was obviously johns goal because he snaps out of character to join in.

soon enough it's your turn and you take one of the only remaining pieces of paper. nobody has pulled their own name yet, so you're praying you keep that streak going so it doesn't have to start all over again.

you pull sammy - her full name written in bold black ink across the rectangle piece of paper. you celebrate internally, always happy to buy things for your best friend.

vince goes next, and he reaches into the almost empty present shaped jar. from your turn you know there's only one remaining name to be picked, so there's no shuffling around for the name. vince pulls out and reads his name. immediately his eyes flicker towards his sister.

sammy gasps, pointing to him like she has it all figured out. "you so have me."

tracy scolds her, "don't guess samatha, you're going to ruin it."

"he looked at me," sammy defends herself, "not my fault he can't keep a secret."

vince smirks, "you're so easily gullible."

"enough you two." tracy scolds gently, looking between her two children quickly. "or i'll make you pick new names."

you know for a fact that vince didn't pull sammy's name because you did, so you're a bit confused at what's he's trying to accomplish here. if you try and think of an answer you'll just be more annoyed with vince, so you you disregard his behaviour.

you tuck the slip of paper between your phone and the case, keeping it close and away from samantha nosy and wondering eyes.

soon enough you're all getting ready for bed, and even though there's one bathroom upstairs between vince and sammy - you thankfully don't run into him while brushing your teeth or washing your face.

you slip into bed beside sammy who's already snoring away - you swear she's the heaviest sleeper who will always fall asleep immediately- and turn off her beside lamp.

being in this house is so comforting and familiar and it's soothing the longing ache you'd felt earlier when your parents broke the news to you regarding not coming home for christmas. you're so thankful for your best friend and her parents for immediately offering you a seat in their home for the holidays - especially considering holiday was time reserved for family.

the only thing that keeps you from falling into a quick sleep was the lingering thought of vince. you can't stop replaying your conversations from today and all his snarky, petty comments and arguments and the way he looks down at you as if you were nothing to him.

you think you'll continue to try and keep yourself in control and try your absolute hardest in not letting your irritation get the better of you and lash out at vince - especially infront of tracy and john. you don't think they'll appreciate you and their son arguing after they invited you into their home.

december 22nd

the dunn's have always had a real christmas tree. when you were younger you used to beg your parents to get rid of the plastic one they'd had for 20 years and to take you to a christmas tree farm and pick out a real one.

but you never got one because your parents didn't want to deal with the mess, so you lived vicariously through sammy and her families real tree. sure, it was messy and you had to take care of it, but the smell of fresh pine made it all worth it.

yesterday when you arrived at the house you were too overwhelmed with the news about your parents and vince's suprise arrival you didn't notice the lack of that christmas tree smell you’d grown so accustomed to.

"well, we had to wait for vince to get home. once he told us he was going to be here for a few days, I thought it be better to wait and that way it would be like when you were both little - when we'd pick out a tree together." tracy smiles warmly, her hand clutched to her chest as she reminisced when her kids were younger, running through the tree farms.

"you're insane, mom." sammy says with a mouthful of milky cheerios - red and geeen coloured for the holidays.

"not insane," tracy squeaks, "just feeling sentimental that my babies are all grown up." she wraps her daughter in a hug over the kitchen chair, almost smacking sammy in the jaw in the process.

you smile, glancing over your shoulder at them. sammy is wide eyed, staring at you in a silent way of asking for help - you giggle gently as tracy starts to rock her back and forth. your attention is brought back to the toaster as you patiently wait for your waffles to pop.

"go hug your other baby, he's the one who's never home." sammy grumbles, scooping another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"where is vince anyways, we have to leave soon - vince, honey come downstairs!" tracy shouts out, her voice echoing out through the kitchen and up the stairs.

the thought of the oldest dunn sibling has your face pulling in disgust, and the idea of spending more time with him is already having you feeling worn out before the day has started. thankfully, your waffles pop and you concentrate on transferring them to your plate without burning yourself, rather than vince and his stupid face.

vince rounds the corner into the kitchen and surprisingly he's not in his pyjamas still - he’s wearing some nice light wash jeans and a black hoodie, which isn't very festive compared to your leggings and red reindeer printed sweater. thankfully tracy is matching your holiday spirit, and her sweater has a big gold bow on the front that shimmers in the sun - so at least you’re not the only one looking extra.

"honey, we are leaving soon. have you eaten?" tracy asks her son. she's currently packing her purse for all the things she thinks she'll need for the day, which you're not sure how a beatles cd will come in handy - but who knows. you are thankful for the extra socks though, because the chances of you shoving vince into a snow pile are very high.

"I'll have an apple." vince says.

you finish spreading the butter over the ridges of the waffles, the solid topping turning into a delicious liquid pool in each square of the waffle. you open the cupboard above your head where the syrup is kept (because who likes cold syrup?) but it's not on the reachable shelf it usually sits - it's on the very top shelf.

at first you don't think it'll be a challenge, you're not short by any means, but as you first attempt to reach the syrup, you come up short and you can't quite reach the bottle. you huff, pushing up on to your tiptoes to try and get ahold of the syrup- but somebody beats you to it.

vince is chewing the contents of his apple completely unfazed as he comes up beside you and grabs the syrup bottle. he places it beside your plate of waffles, and you have to take a deep breathe and tune out the sound of him crunching on the apple or you may just loose it.

you eye him, "I could've gotten it."

vince’s eyebrows raise and he swallows the chunk of apple. "oh well I can put it back up there and you can try and grab it. I found it quite amusing to watch you struggle."

"but yet you helped me?"

"thought Id try and spread some christmas cheer." vince shrugs and takes the last editable bite out of his apple, now left with only the browning core. instead of walking around to the garbage can sitting on the other side of you, vince tosses the core of his apple between you and the counter.

it merely misses you and getting sticky apple juice on your festive sweater, landing in the bottom of the garbage can with a loud smack.

you inhale loudly, shooting vince another pointed look. "could start by not attempting to hit me with something covered in your saliva."

vince smirks, crossing his arms. even his bulky hoodie can't hide the thick muscles he's maintained through the season, and you catch yourself staring. "you're the only girl I know who would protest that."

you make a gagging noise, turning you attention back to your waffle - which you haven't even attempted to dress with syrup yet.

john then walks into the kitchen, clad in his winter coat and boots. "the car is brushed off and the christmas tree farm is calling our names." he claps his hands together once, rubbing them together in anticipation. "everyone excited?"

tracy immediately answers her husband yes - just as cheerful as she's been all morning. sammy immediately drops her bowl in the sink, still full of milk, and runs off as she shouts something about needing to find the perfect coat for the farm.

amongst the slight chaos, vince turns to his father and grins suspiciously large. it already has your stomach bubbling with irritation, continuing to dread the day ahead. "so excited." vince expresses.

as his dad and mom start going over their mental check list for the day, vince looks back towards you - his vision pointed and teasing.

you only hold his gaze for a few antagonizing seconds before tearing your eyes away. the way vince can so easily irritate you, and know exactly what he’s doing is so frustrating to watch. you try and mask the scowl growing on your face by taking an angry bite of your syrupless waffle.

——

"vincent i'm one second away from shoving your head into the snow." you huff, sending him a pointed look over the puffed shoulder of your coat.

"do it," vince snickers, "because then I don't have to hear your voice anymore."

you grumble his words under your breath, deeply mocking him. vince doesn't seem to hear you though because he doesn't mumble anything back in retaliation. the silence gives you a moment of peace, saved from the tangent vince had just gone on - arguing with you about the height of the tree his mom wanted (it’s 7ft ceilings - there’s no argument.)

the smell of fresh pine trees and sticky sap is the only thing keeping you sane - truly. without the scent and christmas festivities all around you, you surely would've slammed your head in the door of john and tracy's minivan by now.

after a good half hour drive to the christmas tree farm and trying to not react to vince's overly expressive comments on the way, you figured you'd be free of the oldest dunn sibling for the next couple hours - but no.

sammy's boyfriend, logan, ended up showing up and sammy was quick to totally abandon you in order to spend time with him. which you don't resent her for obviously - she never really gets to see him since he's still away at college, but without sammy as your tree picking partner, you're left with vince.

obviously this is your worst nightmare.

vince follows a few steps behind you with his hands shoved in his front jean pockets. he doesn't seem to even be looking at the trees, which only irritates you further - because why was he so adamant about arguing with you about the height of a tree if he wasn’t even going to properly look for one.

you weave through another row of trees, slowing in your steps to look over each one - inspecting every pine and bristle. because it's so close to christmas the supply at the farm is slowly dwindling, and although all rows have trees, it's looking a little sparse - the amount and the trees themselves.

you let your previously crossed arms fall, and you complete stop your steady pace. the tree in front of you looks pretty good considering the options available, with almost perfectly green bristles and that full look tracy loved so much. you eye back at vince, a questioning raise to your eyebrows. "here's a good one."

his brows pull together tightly, forming a v shape above the bridge of his noise. vince takes a step closer to the tree you’re stopped at, and after a long silent moment he just shrugs.

"what's wrong with this tree?" you huff pointedly.

"it's shit."

"it's not shit - you don't like it because I picked it and you know it's the best one we've seen so far and there's a high chance it's the best one period."

your attitude is on full display, with your hand resting on your hip as the bone juts out towards the left. your face is pulled in a mixture of confusion and frustration, blinking quickly up at vince like you're trying to literally blink him away.

it has vince biting back a satisfied smirk - he's always so amused at how easily he can rile you up, even when you try so hard to hide it. "I bet I can find a better one."

"it's four days before christmas vincent, you're not going to find a better one." you grab ahold of the rope holding the tree and follow the natural line around to the backboard behind the trees. it's hooked into some weird latch, and you quickly try and maneuver the metal clasp off the loop - desperate to get the tree and get out of there.

"you have to push before you pull." vince is much closer than before, and he reaches towards the clasp as well. his words are warm against your frost bitten face, and the press of his body against your side is an oddly chilling feeling - underneath your clothes, your skin prickles with goosebumps.

"yeah that's what i'm trying to do - but now your hands are in my way."

he huffs, "you're only pulling - I can feel it, y/n."

"I can only pull because you're not letting me push." you argue. you both don't let up, and there's a confused mix of hands trying to pick over and around one another in a competitive match to unlatch the rope from the hook on the wooden plaque.

it’s only a few more moments of battling one another before vince's uses his strength advantage to forcefully move you out of the way and pushes your body off to the side with just his hip. your hands release the hook reluctantly, which gives vince free will to fiddle with it solely.

in a surge of anger, from not only his ridiculous strength but also your lack of, you kneel down and grab a pile of fluffy snow from the base of the cut tree stumps. you quickly and messily pack it into a ball shape and before you can think otherwise, you chuck it right at vince.

it hits him square in the chest, and the snow explodes from the impact, coming up his coat and splashing against his jawline - some of the snow even slipping past the neck hole of his sweatshirt and soaking his shirt.

slowly, he looks in your direction - his face pulled in such a way that you can't tell if he's going to scream or say nothing at all. vince is met with only the sight of your wide, shocked eyes - mitten covered hands covering your grinning mouth.

"I don't know why I did that." your words are quick and muffled through the pink gloves.

vince eyes squint accusingly as he fully turns to face you. he lets go of the hold on the lock that was still very much clasped in - but he is too shocked to even begin brushing snow off himself. "are you laughing?"

you are giggling - just a tiny bit and clearly your hands aren't doing a good job at hiding it. "no."

"I obviously have to get you back for that." vince grabs his own scoop of snow in his bare hands - because he claims he's too cool for gloves - and slowly begins packing it together.

"what? no." your hands drop from your face quickly, just as much your growing smirk. "I was just in the heat of the moment and I couldn’t help myself."

he shrugs nonchalantly, and the snow ball is getting tossed between his two bare hands mockingly - teasing you. "okay? and I'm also in the heat of the moment and I don't think I can stop myself."

"vince I swear to god if you decide today is the day you choose peace and put that snow back on the ground i'll forever be in your debt - why are you looking at me like that?"

the snow ball is still, lightly clutched in just one hand as vince looks at you. he's got an unreadable expression on his face, and it's one you've never seen before - he looks approachable and soft and so unlike the vince you've known since your freshman year.

you swallow gently - nervously - eyeing him curiously as you try to read his next move and understand his next actions before they happen. “you haven't called me vince since you were 14."

you're confused and vince can see it written all over your face. the downwards pull at your lips and the way your brows crease as you try and wrack your brain for an explanation. vince continues, his words firm but not rough. "you always call me vincent...It just made me think of the real you."

you're taken back from his words. the real you - what could vince mean by that insinuation. sure you've changed since high school, especially since vince broke your heart outside his bedroom that friday night freshmen year - but you're still you...you hope so anyways.

your mouth opens but no sounds come out - you're too busy reeling in your own head that you can't yet speak anything that would remotely make sense.

"there you are!" tracy's joyful voice interrupts as she and john make their way down the isle of trees you’re both in. "we've had no luck, unfortunately."

they come to a stop beside you, oblivious to the way you've gone completely internally crazy.

"any luck for you two? sammy and logan are at the hot chocolate stand waiting on us." john states, looking between you both.

"yeah," vince clears his throat and turns back towards the tree that you two had been attempting to unlatch. this time he's able to release the christmas tree from its rope in one try. "y/n found this one."

tracy immediately starts fussing excitedly, praising your eye. she goes on about how it will look wonderful by the fireplace, and how it's branches are so full and will compliment her home made ornaments perfectly - but you don't even feel like rubbing in the fact that you were right. you don't send vince any vindictive look, or some snarky smirk that says 'I told you so.' you can only focus on what vince's statement means.

thankfully sammy is a good distraction, and when you all meet up for the first time since arriving - vince lugging the tree behind him - and all share some hot chocolate and cider, you momentarily forget about it.

after another hour or so exploring the farm, you all decide to head back home - with a surprisingly perfect christmas tree and stomachs full and warm of hot chocolate.

sammy ends up passing out on your left quickly into the drive, her head resting against the cool glass car window with gentle snores passing through her lips. she must've been feeling tired, because she faught you for your previous seat - now you're stuck in the middle.

vince's arm is pressed into yours, and with every turn or bump in the road you can feel the way his muscles contract and move - even through the material of your puffy jacket.

you keep discreetly glancing over at him. you wish that you could read his mind or pull the thoughts right out of his head and understand them - but you can't, so you stealing glances will have to do for an attempt to understand him.

with tracy and john talking with one another in the front, voices blending with the holiday music they've turned up to block out sammy's snoring, you take an opportunity to get vince's attention.

"what did you mean by the real me?" your words aren't very loud as you don't want to draw the attention of vince's parents or wake sammy - which would ruin the chance of getting an understanding of vince's earlier words.

vince’s eyes flicker over to you, reluctantly pulling his attention away from where he was watching the road ahead through the gap between the passenger seat and car wall. his eyes dance over your wind kissed face and curious eyes, analyzing you. "it meant nothing."

you blink. "nothing? i'm going crazy here thinking that i've totally morphed into this super awful human and -"

"y/n." vince interrupts you roughly, his normal bored face making an appearance. "stop." his voice is almost pleading, like if you keep talking about it he'll become overcome with pain - vince's eyes flutter closed, and his head gently falls back against the head rest.

you don't say anything else because you're too hurt to further the conversation. you purse your lips, nodding in a bitter understanding before turning your face away from vince. you focus on the winter scenery outside sammy's window, doing your best to not feel further upset by vince's words - but you can't help the nagging feelings that swirl around your stomach, and the avalanche of emotions weighing in your head.

you don't even feel angry - just confused and left wondering what you did to make vince dislike you so much.

when did he become a stranger?

december 23rd

the santa day market in your town was always one of your favourite things about the christmas season. there was something about how all the shops decorated for the holiday, the streets put up garlands and lights, and how everyone came together to celebrate the most festive time of year never failed to put you in the christmas mood.

this year was no different, and with vince's mom being the one to always make sure you and your family all went together, here you all were - obviously with the lack of your parents, but that goes without saying.

the smell of snow and apple cider flows through the busy sidewalks, further adding to the festivities all around you. there's only an hour and a bit before the annual santa clause parade kicks off, and sammy had suggested that you all take the time to find secret santa gifts - if you haven't already.

you're happy for her suggestion, because with your and vince's tiff yesterday, buying a secret santa gift has slipped your mind.

the rest of the car ride home from the christmas tree farm was very quiet - well, you and vince were quiet - sammy's snoring and the music continued as loud as ever. the vibe between you and the oldest dunn sibling had changed, but not in the way you were now realizing you wanted it to change.

for the rest of the night, if vince did talk to you it wasn't with anger and irritation like you'd grown used to. instead he sounded more disappointed? maybe guilty? but then again, maybe your brain is trying to turn vince softer than he is, and he's not feeling any sort of remorse or guilt about how the conversation in the car went between you and it’s all in your head.

you push open the glass door of one of the boutiques lining the main street, the holly decorated wreath swinging against the window as you do so. inside is surprisingly busy considering all the attention seems to mostly be outside - but thankfully it's a relatively big store - full of cute clothing, accessories and anything in between - meaning you can browse freely without feeling overwhelmed.

it doesn't take long to start spotting things sammy would like, and you begin to make a mini collection of things in your arms. shopping for your best friends has always been so easy. sammy loves knitted sweaters, and you know she'd always wear one. she's also into perfumes and decorative tote bags. graphic baby tees, comfy pyjamas and lip gloss were also apart of sammy's never ending arsenal.

but with that being said, you can never pick exactly what you want a to give her. you always want it to be a perfect gift, and you have a hard time trying to pick one perfect thing - hence the heavy armful of various gift options.

something partnered catches your eye, and you find yourself double taking in its direction. it's beautiful throw blanket, and the soft material is decorated with vintage looking holiday homes, greenery and snowflakes- it's beautiful. with your free hand, you reach out and touch the front of it, gliding your hand across the baby soft blanket. you're immediately in love with it, and the urge to scrap the whole secret santa thing and spend your entire budget on the - no doubt - expensive throw is very strong.

but obviously that's not an option, and you'll have to just dream about the blanket longingly while your best friend enjoys her secret santa gift.

"your boots undone." you look away from the shelf loaded with various holiday blankets and in the direction of the voice.

it's vince, and you curse yourself for not registering the familiarity of his voice sooner. he's not holding any shopping bags, meaning he either previously bought his secret santa their gift, or he hasn't found anything yet.

you look down to your winter boots, which you can barley see over the monstrous pile of things still tucked against the crook of your elbow. vince is right - your left lace isn't tied up and is hanging dangerously, very close to causing you to trip.

"okay," you hum, eyes flickering back up towards him. "and what am I supposed to do about that right now?" it's a bold and snappy response from you considering the awkward and unknown vibes that have been circulating around you and vince the past 24 hours - but you can't help it, and falling into the original pattern between you is very easy.

vince still hasn't moved from a few feet away from where you had been looking at the blankets. his eyes dance between your face, the present options in your arms and the undone shoe lace.

suddenly he’s on the move and he walks towards you wordlessly. before you can register what he's doing, vince is tying your lace back up. he's down on one knee, which would usually give you the ick, but it seemingly doesn't - vince even double knots the lace, which is the cherry on top of your guilty ice cream.

once he returns to his full height and sends you a closed mouth smile, you further regret your snappy response about the undone shoelaces.

once again, vince's eyes wander down to the pile in your arms and his brows pull together in what looks like concern - whether that concern is for your arm strength or the amount of things in them...you'll never know.

"don't worry vince i'm not your secret santa."

his eyes change, a flicker of something you recognize but can't put your finger on - but it has your weird nervousness settling down. vince snickers softly, almost like he was laughing to himself. "thank god for that - I don't think those clothes would fit me."

your chest flutters with something like relief, and although you know you shouldn't so easily forget about vince's cold shoulder yesterday, it's hard when his gentle laughter warms your belly unexpectedly. so for now you decide to forget, and a small smile pulls at your lips as you eye vince teasingly. "mhmm I don't know, I think you could rock these pink frills."

his brows raise slightly, pleasantly surprised at your playful expression. "just because I would, doesn't mean I should." vince picks up a bedazzled set of salt and pepper shakers nearby and inspects them closely. you think they're gaudy and clearly vince thinks the same - he glances at you and pulls a face, putting down the set of sparkly condiment holders.

"oh, you think you're hot stuff?" you tease him further, the comment about the pink frilly sweater still prevalent on your mind.

vince snickers one more, gently prodding the side of his cheek with his tongue to stop his smile from growing any further. he doesn't answer your question but the look on his face is enough of an answer. "you're not getting sammy all of that are you?" his gaze shifts back towards the pile in your arms, and he even reaches out and tugs on one of the arms from a patterned top.

"wha!" you stutter a mixed sound of huh and what passing through your open mouth - your eyes blown wide as you eye him questionably. "how do you know I have sammy?”

vince smirks, "process of elimination."

you squint at him accusatorially, trying to decide if he actually has done some process of elimination in his head, or if vince is just trying to trick you into telling him who you’re secret santa for. "fine," you hum, admitting defeat. "no i'm not getting sammy all of this! I just....cant decide."

vince smiles victoriously - obviously he knew he was right. "you're so indecisive."

"no, i'm not." you sing song.

vince matches your pitch, mimicking you. "you are."

"you don't even know what you're talking about." you breathe gently, a small bubble of laughter following.

"okay, then go put some stuff back if you're so sure and not indecisive." vince eyes you challengingly, gesturing towards the bustling shop.

"fine," you chirp. "don't miss me too much."

"oh," he laughs, "I won't."

you walk back through the store, slowly putting the random things back into appropriate spots. you don't even remember picking up a zebra printed scarf, but there it was in your arms - and you can't help but pull a face as you hang it back around a mannequin.

"y/n y/l/n is that you?" evan's voice is practically engraved in your memory at this point, and you'd recognize it even over the cheery christmas music blaring through the stores speakers.

you turn towards the direction of his voice, and unfortunately your mind wasn't playing tricks on you - your ex boyfriend was in the shop, looking at you with a bright smile and snow dusted coat. to make everything 10 times worse than it already was, his new girlfriend was wrapped around his arm, just as happy looking as evan.

your face pales, and you slowly finish putting away the sparkly handbag on the shelf in front of you - previously stopping once each called your name. "yeah, it's me."

they walk right up to you, clearly unbothered by the whole situation. evan looks like he's greeting an old friend from highschool - one that he wasn't in a loving relationship with for years and broke up with only weeks ago. it stabs at your chest, even though you don't love him anymore. "wow, I wasn't expecting to run into you here." evan exhales, eyeing you with a curious gaze.

you wonder if he’s analyzing you - looking for damage he caused after your breakup. you’re happy that you washed your hair this morning and put on some proper makeup before coming out, and that you look - hopefully - somewhat presentable - you don’t want to boost your exes ego by letting him think he has any affect on you.

how evan wasn't expecting to see you in a town you live in and always have lived in is beyond your thought process - but evans never been the sharpest tool in the shed, so it makes sense. he continues, "are you here by yourself? or is your mom around here somewhere? I swear I was just telling jen about how much your mom used to love this store -" you zone out - oh so she has a name?

"hey I was wondering where you went." vince's words are a shock, and the way his large palm touches your lower back and slowly wraps around to the front of your torso even more so. "thought we agreed to meet back up outside the store - not inside."

you blink, looking back at vince. "what?" ever so slightly his eyes widen as if he's trying to tell you to go with it.

"dunner? holy shit" evan's voice brings you back to reality. "what are you doing home?"

vince looks away from you, and an easy going smile takes over his face. "my schedule worked out and was able to come home for christmas. thank god because I was missing y/n/n too much."

"you were?" you gawk.

vince’s teeth are clenched tightly, but his smile never waivers as he looks down at you once again. "of course babe." his fingers pinch your belly gently, another reminder to play along.

babe. oh.

"babe?" evan questions. his blue eyes flicker between you and his old friend, and you can practically see as the puzzle pieces in front of him piece together - the hand around your waist, the pet name, the look in your eyes he's never seen before. "you guys are together?"

you nod once and you sort of resemble a robot with the almost reluctant movement- vince has to take a deep, calming breath and resist the urge to die at the cause of your awful acting. "yeah, we are together."

your conformation has evan smiling - which you don't think would happen. you expected a grimace or even some sort of negative outburst at his ex and his old friend dating - but no. "I always thought you two secretly liked each other - all that hating each other crap wasn't believable."

vince goes stiff behind you, and even though he recovers quickly, you still feel it. you can't believe this is happening. you think the world might swallow you up and save you from the awkwardness that is this conversation.

completely oblivious, evan continues. " isn't it crazy how we both found our true matches after each other." the look evan sends jen has you feeling even more embarrassed and miserable, and you can't decide if your going to laugh, cry, or throw up - or all three.

"we should probably go," jen pats evan's peck affectionately. "your parents are already at the parade spot waiting for us."

"it was nice seeing you guys - you look great together." evan smiles at you both, wrapping an arm around his girlfriends shoulders as they steer through the crowd inside the shop, and make their way towards the exit.

evans words continue to ring through your head as you check out at the cash register. you ended up choosing the very first thing you picked up for sammy, because your first option is always the one you go back to.

you leave the store quickly after getting the gift receipt, and vince is close on your heels as you two make your way down the busy sidewalk.

"are you okay?" vince almost sounds cautious with his tone, and you can feel his eyes flicking across your side profile - trying to find the answer to his question before you tell him.

you glance up at him quickly. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me." your attempt at humor isn't working, and vince doesn't crack even a half smile at your teasing. your face falls, and you sigh gently, "i'll be fine."

he nods thoughtfully, but doesn't seem all that convinced by your words. it's silent for a few moments between you, walking together down the sidewalk back in the direction of where tracy told everyone to meet back up at - right under the clock tower for the parade.

"it’s okay if you're feeling hurt after seeing evan and his new girlfriend. just because you don't love him anymore, doesn't mean it's nice to see that." after a few beats, vince sighs. "do you remember amanda?" he asks you curiously.

your nose scrunches unpleasantly - how could your forget amanda? amanda was vince's awfully short-term girlfriend in the summer going into your sophomore year of highschool - his first year of college. she was very picky, rude, and always made sure to remind everyone that she felt that she was superior to them. you make a noise between a gag and a scoff. "I hated her."

vince laughs once, shoving his hands in his pockets as continue to walk through the busy sidewalks. "I could tell. honestly, she didn't like you either."

"I knew it." you cheer vindictively, because you knew you weren't crazy for thinking that - even though sammy disagreed. "she used to give me these dirty looks - specific ones like she was trying to burn me alive using just her eyes." your gaze flickers back to vince, and your brows pull curiously. "why did you break up? besides the obvious….witchy reasons."

he smiles softly and shrugs. "amanda was never shy about expressing her feelings about anything or anyone, which I never faulted her for even If i disagreed. but when she started talking badly about you, I broke it off."

"oh."

vince continues. "I never let anybody talk about you negatively, y/n. ever. and amanda wasn't an exception to that." he swallows gently, eyes dancing over your face. his expression is soft again, and familiar. it’s a look that makes you forget that the vince in front of you right now is the same one who broke your heart in high school - the same vince you thought you hated.

you now notice that you've both stopped walking and are standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. the sky is practically enveloped into darkness now, only lit up by the buildings light glow and christmas lights decorating the street.

you feel so seen in this moment - you feel completely normal. vince is looking at you in a way you've never seen before, and you can't help but wonder if he's always been looking at you like this but you've been too blinded by words to notice.

vince clears his throat, and a breathy chuckle passes his lips. "I mean after all, i'm the only one who gets to be a dick to you…right?”

his words feel like a slap in the face. is vince admitting that he only defended you to amanda because he was upset somebody else was being mean to you besides himself? - rather than the sole purpose of defending you because he cares about you? you don't let yourself outwardly show how vince's words affected you, and you force a gentle smile. "right."

you don't want to get upset and ruin the relationship dynamic between you and the vince standing infront of you - because something has undoubtedly changed. you're not sure what it is yet, but you like this version of you and vince better than any version from the past 10 years.

you also don't know what vince means with his last comment, and you're not sure if you want to know. so you choose to ignore it - just like you ignored the situation between you yesterday and how you've ignored the unspoken and underlying issue of your and vince's relationship for years.

december 24th

"stop moving or the walls are going to fall."

"the walls are going to fall because you're not using enough icing - it's going to fall weather i'm holding it together or not." vince expresses. to prove his point, he loosens his push on the gingerbread house wall, and it immediately wobbles and begins to collapse inwards.

vince brings his thumb up towrds his mouth and sucks some of the store bought vanilla icing off the digit. his eyes don't leave you as he does so- trying to fluster you with his actions. you narrow your eyes pointedly, which makes a smirk appear on vince's flushed face. he laughs at your attempt at looking annoyed all while trying to keep the sad gingerbread house from completely collapsing.

vince's mom had magically pulled out two separate gingerbread kits in the late afternoon after she put the honey ham in the oven. sammy was up on her feet immediately at the sight, her competitive nature coming to a tilt - which meant that she needed the gingerbread building to be a competition, and claimed her boyfriend as her building partner.

logan doesn't protest the partnership, which leaves you and vince no choice - if this was the beginning of your stay with the dunn family, having vince be your partner would've sent you to the grave, but now with some of the negative air clearing, you don't hate the idea, but quickly into the start of your timed - yes sammy insisted the building to be timed - gingerbread house competition, vince is proving to be rather difficult to work with.

vince seems more interested in teasing you and trying to push your buttons in a almost flirtatious way, and if he's not talking, he's completely trying to change any of your previous work and alter the look of the gingerbread house - claiming 'it looks too similar to theirs, c'mon y/n/n we gotta step it up.'

"just get the gumdrops out." you dismiss him, looking away from his intense gaze and back towards the gingerbread. thankfully you've managed to get the house back into its original stature, and the house is looking less sad and lopsided than before - although some of the icing has glooped and dropped off the seams and made a sticky mess on the candy rock path.

vince snickers at your demand, finishing up with the icing residue on his thumb - because he knew if he passed you a sticky, icing covered gumdrop package you'd loose your mind. "where do you want them coach?" vince's words are softly spoken against your ear as and attempt to try and keep your discussion from being overheard by his sister and logan across the table.

you hold back the pleasant shutter that wants to take over your body, and keeping your eyes on the gingerbread house is the best way to stay calm and collected - if you look at vince right now you may crumble. what is wrong with you right now? "I think under the windows? a boarder around the house will bring it all together."

you gesture to the part of the house where the brown cookie meets the flimsy plastic base, which is only covered in icing and is severely lacking decor.

vince hums. "really? I feel like the roof is the only thing that looks incomplete. I think the gumdrops will look better there." he runs one of his fingers on the ridge where the two pieces of cookie meet, mimicking the point of a roof.

"what?" you screech slightly, gaze flickering between the cookie creation and vince. "I think the roof looks cute how it is - with the peppermint swirls"

"yes but look at logan and sammy's -" you do as he says and let yourself finally look at your friends gingerbread house. you can tell logan has had absolutely no say in the design of the house, and it's clearly the cause of a sammy dictation. vince continues, "all they've got on the roof is peppermint swirls. adding the gumdrops to our house will make it stand out. you want to win right?"

you look back at vince and nod definitively. "yes, I want to win."

he smiles. "atta girl, wanna put them on?"

you flush a deep red at his words. "no, you do it. If I do it you'll end up moving them anyways."

your teasing doesn't go unnoticed by vince, and he clicks his tongue in a playful manner, "yeah because you probably wouldn't of done it right."

the wine you've been sipping all afternoon and into the evening is definitely tinkering with your emotions - vince the same. it would explain how the evening between you is flowing so smoothly, and any teasing dig is met with laughter instead of anger. you giggle quietly, "you're so annoying."

vince ducks his head to keep your eye contact once you begin to smile downwards into your chest. his smirk doesn't dissolve, and if anything, it changes into a more sultry one. "I know you love it y/n/n, you can't deny it." he licks his bottom lip, wetting the pink skin so it glistens. vince chuckles, "now move your hand...unless you want to be covered in gum drops."

he then proceeds to add a single file line of gumdrops on the roof, sticking the widest part of the gummy candy into the dewy icing that holds the pieces in place. in the most obnoxious and high pitched voice you can manage, you repeat vince's words back to him. you watch as vince smiles and a few laughs bubble up his chest at your teasing - he doesn't look away from the task at hand and continues decorating your gingerbread house.

you feel like you're in freshman year again, stealing secretive glances at your best friends older brother while he wasn't paying attention. vince looks almost the same as he did when you were younger, but his teenage features have chiseled out, leaving him with the most sculpted and attractive profile. god this wine is really changing you - your fluttering heart and butterfly filled stomach are really a recipe for disaster.

"okay kids one more minute left for your houses, then dad and I will come in and judge them." tracy tells you all from around the corner, not quite yet coming fully into the kitchen to avoid spoiling the houses for herself. you hear sammy curse from her moms warning, and she starts frantically looking for the mini snowflakes to icing glue onto the window sills of her and logan's gingerbread house.

vince looks back towards you, and once he catches your gaze already on him, his smirk slinks back upwards. "any finishing touches?"

you're not even embarrassed at being caught, and you don't mind how smug vince looks at the sight of your clear attraction. you shake your head, "no...it's perfect."

vince can't help his eyes from flickering down to your lips, lingering on your wine painted flesh for a few moments before dragging his eyes back up your face. his brow quirks curiously, but the smile he's wearing never wavers. "I agree."

tracy and john come in after you've all cleaned up the area and presented your respective gingerbread houses in a viewing manner - displaying them proudly on the kitchen island. it doesn't take long for them to decide their winner, and when the dunn couple gestures to your amd vince's candy land themed house, you cheer. vince squeezes around your waist, pulling you into his side, exclaiming that he knew you could beat sammy.

that has her scoffing, "you two are so annoying." she's not being serious - the tiny smile on her face giving it away. logan kisses her temple reassuringly, promising that her gingerbread house is his favourite.

"don't be a sore loser." vince laughs, eyeing his sister victoriously.

"now, vince you're not one to talk." tracy corrects him, and a small smile pops on her face. she tries to hide it behind her hand as she continues. "you used to get so upset when you were little if we picked sammy's house. you'd cry like a baby and beg for us-"

"alright mom." vince stops her with laughter.

"oh my god, so you've always been a big baby?” you look up at him teasingly, a challenging lift to your eyebrows.

"oh, always." you laugh at that, allowing yourself to further lean into vince's side. he smells like grape wine and cinnamon, completed with a hint of store bought icing - an interesting combination by somehow its smells exactly like him.

it's an odd place to be - next to vince and so willingly giving in to the urges you've been suppressing for years. allowing yourself to be wrapped up in his presence and the comfort of all things vince - his almost always flirtatious smirk, the spicy scent he's always bathed in and the way his gaze always seems to linger.

you don't hate vince dunn - you never have. even when he broke you heart in freshman year and left you to cry silently beside his sister in bed, you didn't hate him, you just hated how he made you feel. you had a hard time accepting that vince didn't like you back - whether it was because you were too young or because he simply didn't feel that way for you, you struggled with that fact, which lead to your own feelings converting into a more harsh and negative outlook towards vince.

you realize now, even after 4 or 5 hefty glasses of warm wine, that you were wrong in the way of dealing with your feelings - and by no means does that excuse the way vince has behaved, but you are willing to hear him out....that is if he wants to talk about it. perhaps when you're both a bit more sober tomorrow - your brain reminds you quickly.

after a few classic movies - the grinch being sammy's pick and christmas vacation being johns - tracy had mentioned that santa won't come unless you're all in bed. her sing song tone has everyone giggling in the dim family room, only illuminated by the twinkling christmas tree in the corner, the laughter coming easy with your stomachs full of honey ham and wine.

it's not long after that, and a few more minutes of meaningless conversation, you all slowly head to bed. there's a good 5 minutes that sammy makes you lay face down in her bed while she wraps her secret santa gift (the queen of last minute). anytime she curses and you can hear the wrapping paper tear, it has you giggling into the pillow - which then leads to sammy trying to scold you but her giggles vito any kind of rebuke.

you're still not ready for bed by the time sammy finishes gift wrapping - which ended up being way longer than 5 measly minutes. as soon as she allows you to get off her bed, you're instantly calling dibs on the bathroom and you quickly grab your snowflake patterned toiletry bag and slip out of the room.

the bathroom is steamy, and the mirror along with the damp floor mat indicates somebody is not long out of the shower - presumably vince since he's the only other one on the upstairs floor.

you wipe the condensation off the mirror with the palm of your hand, cleaning the glass so you are able to properly see yourself while you unwind for the night. you begin going through your skin-care routine, granted with the alcohol pumping through your bloodstream, it isn't as skillful or in depth as it normally would be - when you wipe your face with the towel, there's black marks of mascara left behind.

you dig for your toothbrush in the clutter of your toiletry bag, excited for the last step in your night routine before you're able to get back in bed. you locate it and let out a triumphant breath - taking the tube of toothpaste out of the holder as you do so.

a knock on the open bathroom door stops you, and through the mirror you look up and see vince. you were correct in assuming it was him in the shower as he stands there now with damp hair, and fresh cologne scented skin - you're pretty sure there's still a few drops of water sliding down his pecks, because of course he's only got pyjamas bottoms on right now, leaving his torso completely bare.

"I forgot to brush my teeth." he says warmly. vince holds your eye contact through the mirror, watching the way you blink at him all flirtatiously - god this wine is really doing a number on your suppressed feelings.

you glance over your shoulder. "I don't mind company."

vince walks further into the dewy bathroom, rounding to the other side of you. he quirks a brow in your direction. "even mine?"

you watch him pick up his own toothbrush, gliding a dollop of toothpaste over the blue bristles. you put your own minty toothbrush in your mouth, holding it in your cheek momentarily. "even yours."

vince's smirk can't even be hidden by his toothbrush, which he shoves in his mouth - brushing his perfect teeth around his undeniable amused grin. his firm brushing movements, combined with his lack of shirt give you the perfect view to watch his muscles as they shift and flex beneath his soft skin, creating a much unexpected sensation to run through you.

vince catches your stare, the movements of his toothbrush coming to a slow pause as he looks back at you. you don't feel the need to shy away from his sensual gaze like you normally would find yourself doing, but instead you hold the eye contact - your own smile forming around the handle of the toothbrush.

you lean forward to spit into the sink, rinsing your mouth with some running water from the tap before rising back to your full height.

vince follows suit, spitting his excess foamy toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash away any remnants down the drain. you put your toothbrush back into its respective holder and shove it back in your toiletry bag. you tuck your bag under your arm just as vince stands back up, wiping his mouth of any leftover water.

there's a moment then where you're just looking at one another through the foggy bathroom - your eyes locked together say enough than your mouths could ever. regret, apologies, uncertainty, teasing, flirting, the unkown...the gaze you're locked in says it all.

your belly swoops, and this time you know it's because of vince - it's always been because of vince. "goodnight vincent." the use of his full name is only used as a playful and amorous parting, and you blink towards him slowly and innocently. you turn away from him just as slow as your fluttering eyes.

his bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he watches you - vince knows that you know exactly what you're doing and it has him acting before his brain can even comprehend itself.

he grabs your wrist and spins you back around before you even step foot outside the bathroom. your bag falls to the floor from the sudden movement, and you know you didn't zip it properly, so you're not looking forward to dealing with that mess - but the way vince grabs your face roughly and kisses you has you forgetting all about it.

the kiss is immediately rough and fast - a mixture of longing and desire stemming from many years of doubt and fear, crumpled into one explosive kiss. you're both instantly grabbing at one another, desperate to feel one another to a greater extent. vince's hands are all over your body, like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most. he's running his fingers through your hair, gently tugging the roots at the base of your neck in a way that has you groaning into his mouth. his hands glide over your body, paying attention to every curve and dip as he holds and grabs you.

you’re no better with your hands frantically running over his toned exposed skin. your nails gently rake over his abs, and you can feel the affect the feeling has on vince as goosebumps form right under your fingertips. you're holding the budge of his biceps, keeping him close to you as you both continue the electric kiss. the room suddenly seams as steamy as ever, the thick and hot air surprising you, further contributing to the hurried movements and messy tangle of lips.

vince spins you around once again, so your back is towards the vanity mirror. your lower back bumps the edge of the ceramic countertop, and not even the bruising sting can register in your mind over the way vince is kissing and touching all over your skin. smoothly as ever, vince's lips pull away from yours, giving you the time and space to collect your laboured breath. his kisses move down from the corner of your mouth and across your warm jawline. you gasp and wither against him, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation of his sloppy kisses move towards your neck.

vince reaches the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he wastes no time in suckling the soft and flushed skin. without pulling away from you, he uses his foot to shut the bathroom door and the gentle thud echos throughout the hallway.

"is this okay?" he speaks against your skin, his mouth detaching from the blossoming hickey he'd been working on. vince fully pulls away from you, much to your dismay, and meets your gaze - a questioning haze in his eyes, reflecting his question.

you sigh, "yes. more than okay."

this time, you're the one to reach for him, and you pull his head down so you're able to meet for another heavy kiss. vince's tongue swipes against your bottom lip quickly, asking for entrance to further explore to kiss once again. you let him, again, letting your tongues glide and slip around one another in the midst of your make out.

vince uses his leg to gently prod your thighs apart, which you had previously been desperately clenching together in search of the tiniest bit of friction. as soon as vince's chiseled, defined leg muscle settles between your legs, providing a deliciously sharp and satisfying touch to your fluttering core, you're moaning.

instinctively, your hips begin to move against him, searching for that release. one of vince's hands leave its spot from where it was previously holding around your neck, and slinks down your body until he's landing on your ass. with a guiding hand, he firmly grabs ahold of one asscheek and begins to pull and push you over his thigh - helping your grind against him.

you pull away from his mouth as you become too built up with the empending release that is on the horizon. you breath heavily, and your eyes are screwed shut as vince continues to drag your clothed core against his covered thigh. you're sure your thin candy cane printed pyjama shorts are drenched in your own arousal, leaking onto the plaid material of vince's pants - but you don't even care or feel embarrassed...if anything it's turning you on further, and from the hard bulge pressing against your leg, it seems to be doing the same for vince.

vince's forehead falls against yours, bringing you back to the reality of the situation. through your lashes, you look up at him, only to find he's already watching you - watching every single twitch of a reaction on your flushed face. "I'm close." your sighed words are quickly morphed into a moan as vince's grip tightens on your ass.

"fuck. wanna come like this?" he questions quickly, continuing to move your hips forward and backwards against him.

you mewl slightly, and if you don't stop soon you will end up further soaking his pyjamas bottoms as you cum. "I want you to be inside of me."

"yeah?" vince breathes out, his guiding movements coming to a slow stop at your words. you nod against him, and your hips continue to jut over him at just the mere thought of vince filling you up. "fuck okay, let's turn around yeah?"

you let him handle you easily, vince spinning your body until your belly is pushing against the counter top. with a firm hand he pushes on the middle of your spine until you’re naturally lying flat on the counter, and your legs spread automatically.

vince is immediately pulling down your shorts and you moan out at the feeling of the material sticking to your seeping core, no doubt dripping with your edging release. the bathroom is burning hot, and the mirror has gone completely opaque from the steam caused by your and vince's interlocking lips and steamy touches. it has everything feeling much more sensual and sexy - and the tension of your impending release is becoming almost painful.

you wiggle your hips around, pushing as far back as you can with the limited space in search of vince's hips. "be paintent." vince tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and then you feel the press of his torso against your back. he presses a kiss to your exposed shoulder from where your oversized shirt has slipped down. "I was admiring the view." to further accentuate his words, two of his fingers slide through your wet folds, moving to collect your arousal.

you bite your lip, sighing pleasantly at the feeling of pressure from vince's fingers prodding your entrance, moving up to flutter over your throbbing clit. "you can admire the view another time, vince - please fuck me."

vince's large palm comes down and smacks the round of your ass. you let out a breathy laugh, the sound almost resembling a squeal at the feeling. it has vince smirking as he soothes the sting by rubbing over your reddening ass.

your laughter quickly shifts into a deep mewl as vince's head prods your entrance, almost immediately slipping into your opening from the dripping arousal. you push your hips backwards and he fully slides into you, filling you completely. your ass brushes against vince's hipbones, taking the length of his dick completely.

"shit." he curses, twitching inside you. vince grabs ahold of your hips, and immediately starts to pull out of you. just before his head has a chance of leaving your tight entrance, vince pushes his length back into you fully, igniting another round of moans from you both.

"keep doing that." you are practically begging him as you try and look over your shoulder and attempt to catch the sight of his length plummeting in and out of your pussy. you bite your lip, trying to hold onto some of the moans you're desperately wanting to let out. "fuck i'm not going to last long - you feel too good."

vince moans, and his eyes flicker away from where your bodies are frantically moving and connecting together in favour of meeting your eyes. "you're so hot, fuck the way you look at me - i'm trying really hard to not destroy you right now."

"you think you're hot stuff?" you challenge him, unable to resist the temptation of being playful with vince.

vince bites into his lips at your comment, holding onto his sultry smirk. without stopping his thrusts into you, he lets go of his grip on your hips and reaches up to your biceps. vince pulls your body off the counter, back until your flush against his warm chest. one of his hands wraps around your torso, keeping you in place, while his other reaches past you to wipe the sticky condensation off the mirror - giving you a hazy view of your intertwined bodies.

the sight of his dick nestled so far into your pussy is instantly making you moan, and you clench around his length automatically. vince curses at the feeling, and his hand that he used to wipe the mirror with now comes up around your shoulders and neck, wrapping around you to further keep you pressed to him. vince continues his forceful and steady thrusts into your entrance, and with the new angle of your bodies, they feel even deeper and better than before. "holy shit, vince - yes, just like that."

"can feel you squeezing me," he huffs into your neck, pressing a quick kiss to your salty skin. your shirt has slipped further down your arm, and has left your boob exposed, bouncing roughly against you as vince pounds into your pussy from behind.

it looks like something straight out of a porno in the bathroom mirror, and even through the fog that is building back over the mirror, you can see the way you're dripping onto the floor as your orgasm approaches.

your hand reaches up and grips vince's forearm, grounding yourself from his eye-rolling thrusts up into you. "you gunna cum, pretty girl? fuck you're making a mess on the floor."

"yes, yes, yes." you chant breathless, and your eyes begin to flutter shut as the coil in your stomach begins to snap. your head lolls backwards, falling against vince shoulder and as he continues his feverish pace into you, the band snaps and your orgasm comes to a hilt. "i'm cumming." you whine, your nails digging into the skin of vince's arm as you ride the high of bliss.

behind you, vince begins to chase his own approaching release. his hips smack against your ass at a frantic speed and he continues to thrust into your slippery, sopping pussy. his movements soon become less organized and in sync as he comes close. vince tilts you back down towards the counter, laying you down flat once more as he approaches his high. with only a few more rough pumps into you, vince pulls out of your warmth and blows his load onto your red ass, spewing up to your lower back and creating a sticky, hot, white mess on you. "holy shit."

"holy shit." you repeat.

a few beats pass until vince is cleaning his load off your body, delicately wiping away all traces of his cum with some tissue before immediately flushing the evidence down the toilet.

the bathroom is ridiculous hot and sticky, and no doubt your hair has turned into a frizzy and disgruntled mess. the thought of having to put your soaked pyjamas shorts back on is detrimental, and you're so worn out from vince taking you to pound town that you debate falling asleep on the counter - naked from the waist down and everything.

vince laughs gently at your lack of energy, and he lightly taps your ass cheek to grab your attention. he's pulled his pants back up, and there's a visible wet mark from your earlier grinding - but he doesn't mind one bit. "you need help getting up?"

"yeah." your muffled whine has him laughing further, but he doesn't ignore you. gently, vince helps you off the counter and into a standing position. your knees wobble slightly and vince's smirk grows. you eye him pointedly. "don't smirk - you did this to me."

"you asked for it." he reminds you gently. you scowl slightly, and that has vince's soft laughter continuing. you can't be upset when he helps you pull your pyjamas back on, letting you use his shoulder for balance as he makes you lift one foot at a time into the leg holes of your christmas jammies. "need help getting into bed?"

you walk slightly and although you're a bit shaky, you can still move somewhat normally. you look at vince, "no, i'll be okay." you look towards the mess on the floor caused by your spilled toiletry bag - various things of makeup and skincare scattered in the tiles. you don't think you have the capacity to bend down and pick that up right now.

as if he can read your mind, vince bends down and begins to gather your things. "I can clean this - it's the least I could do." he looks up at you from one knee and sends you a quick wink. for a second you have the dirty thought of vince on his knees in front of you, except of cleaning up your things he's got you pushed against a wall, your legs spread open as he attacks your pussy with his mouth - licking and kissing against your heat until you’re screaming.

unfortunately you don't think your trembling body could handle that right now - it can barley handle standing. so instead of that, you smirk down at him. "goodnight."

"goodnight," his smile widens.

after one more sultry glance, you hobble back down the hall and towards sammy's room. you gently open the door, trying your best to keep quiet. like you hoped it would be, the room is completely dark and the sound of sammy's light snoring alerts you to her sleeping state.

you celebrate internally, happy that you don't have to answer a line of questions about why you've been in the bathroom for 30 minutes when you should've only been gone for 10 max.

you slip into bed gently, allowing your racing heart to have a chance to finally return to its normal beating pattern. thoughts of vince and the activities you've just participated in together - in the childhood bathroom no less - running through your mind. as much as you enjoyed and loved the sex you just experienced with vince, the question about your relationship still remains.

you're not sure if the sex will change anything between you, negatively or positively, but you know the conversation needs to happen. as you're falling into a slumber, dread as well as excitement is flowing through your veins - the unknown of it all very much present.

december 25th

"we have arrived - merry christmas!" sammy's voice is rather cheerful considering the early morning, but it is christmas so that's definitely a factor to her tone. you follow behind her down the stairs as you both descend into the family room, both in your christmas pyjamas and slightly hungover - you in different pyjamas than the ones you ruined last night.

"merry christmas!" tracy cheers from the couch, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. she looks not long awake, with her eyes still squinty and smile still sleepy. it's only 8 o'clock , but the tradition in the dunn household on christmas morning was always an 8 a.m. wake up call, and that wasn't going to change this year.

it seems like you and sammy are the last ones downstairs with the sight of tracy on the couch and john beside her, his own steaming mug sitting on a santa face coaster on the coffee table. just then, vince emerges from the kitchen with two mugs in his hands. you can smell hot chocolate, so you can only assume that's the contents of the coffee mugs.

"oh vince, are those for us?" sammy is instantly bounding over to her brother. she leans in and sniffs the drink, and a bright smile grows on her face as she does so. she takes her gnome design mug out of his hands, and skips over to the couch with her hot chocolate - merely missing spilling the entire drink on the rug.

vince passes you the other mug wordlessly. it is hot chocolate, completed with mini marshmallows and tiny pieces of crushed candy canes - a christmas morning classic. you look up at him gently, and you can't help the bright smile that grows on your lips at just the sight of vince. "hey, thanks."

vince nods and...that's it. he walks passed you and around the reclining chair that lines the entrance of the family room. your face falls with disappointment, and you can't help but feel embarrassed regarding the hopes following your actions last night. it's fine if vince still doesn't want you in any way thay you've been wanting him, but not even a 'you're welcome' or a 'hello’ stings.

you take a seat beside sammy, who once you're seated , immediately starts pitching to her parents on why she should be the first to open her secret santa present. your best friends voice helps you stay distracted in not looking over at vince adjacent from you - sitting silently in the recliner.

the lights from the tree twinkle is your peripheral vision, a constant in your eyes as you try and focus on the present and not dwell on the unknown with vince. as tracy moves across the tree in retrieval for her daughters gift, you're blinking back into reality once again, the light pattern changing is what brings you back. once her mom passes her the santa wrapping paper covered box, sammy is immediately tearing it apart. you smile automatically, always pleased with how excitable sammy gets when it comes to holidays and opening presents.

she pulls out the lilac fuzzy robe and matching slippers that you'd wrapped between layers of tissue paper in the box, and she's immediately gasping out. "I love it - somebody clearly knows me well."

"okay, we'll save your guess until the end." tracy reminds her daughter, but she's looking between all of you as she says it. "don't want to ruin the surprise for anybody else." tracy ends up going next after john suggested it, and she ends up opening a beautiful set of holiday mugs filled with different teas, coffees and treats - cookies, candy canes and chocolates all stuffed into the mugs. she of course loves it, and instantly tells vince that his next trip into the kitchen she wants to try one of her new teas.

you're the next one to open a present, and a rather large box is sitting on your lap. it's wrapped in reflective silver wrapping paper, and a large red bow sits on the top corner of the present. curious about the gift inside the stunning and well done wrapping, you tear it open.

"you're not doing it fast enough - rip the damn paper cindy lou." sammy grunts beside you, obviously impatient. you giggle just as you finally unwrap the box. saving sammy and yourself from the curiosity of the contents of inside, you lift the lid off the box. at the sight of the gift, your face falters slightly. under a layer of red tissue paper, starring back at you in the christmas blanket from the boutique downtown.

the soft christmas blanket decorated with vintage homes and snowflakes that you had fallen in love with only two days ago. you know there's only one person who could've known about the blanket and that's the only person in this living room who was in that store. your eyes flicker towards vince. he's still not smiling - he's not even looking at you.

tracy gasps, "oh wow that's beautiful!" you feel your face heat up with a mixture of disappointment, disbelief and sadness. you feel overwhelmed and confused by the contradictory messages of vince's actions, and you feel like the room is shrinking as you continue to look between vince and the blanket in your lap. without wanting to make too much of a scene, you put the gift on the coffee table. "sorry, I just need to step away for a moment."

"oh, okay - are you alright?" tracy questions gently, her warm eyes following you as you walk through the family room and towards the stairs.

"yeah, of course. please continue, i'll be back soon." you quickly make your way back up the carpeted steps, trying your best to hold in all your confused thoughts and emotions until you're in a private space - to top everything off, your feel ridiculous and the guilt is starting to sink in that you’ve ruined christmas.

you step into sammy's open bedroom and place a hand to your burning forehead - an attempt at doing something to calm down. you let your eyes flutter to a close, and take a few deep breaths. you feel so uncertain and overwhelmed with this weird unknown tension lingering between you and vince, and you're scared having sex with him last night did the complete opposite of what you hoped for. you're scared that vince doesn't view you as anything more than just a stranger - a body he's been moving around for years and disregarding because he's got no real connection or feelings for.

with the sex last night, you had the impression that it would act as that changing factor you've been searching for for years. this christmas seemed to be the very top of the tall mountain you and vince have been chasing each other up for years, pushing at one another to see who would be the first to break that climb - but now you think you may have fallen backwards instead of coming down the other side with vince beside you.

"are you okay?" vince steps into the room, the floorboard that sits directly under the doorframe creaks from his weight. when you were younger you hated that floorboard, it made for sammy and you to sneak out very hard, and most of the time it was the reason you'd just stay home instead of going out and partying with the senior boys team back in high school.

"no, i'm not okay - what are we doing?" your hands fall, and the pure exhaustion of dealing with your own scrambled thoughts is seemingly catching up to you. you feel like complete jello, even more so than after last night - your nerves about this whole ordeal at an all time high. "why do you hate me, vince? what did I do to make you hate me?"

vince is confused, naturally. he walks further into sammy's bedroom, closer to you. "you think I actually hate you?"

a mixture between a disbelieving laugh and a scoff forms in the back of your throat. "you're not giving me many reasons which tell me that you like me, are you? and no, fucking me against the bathroom counter really doesn't count as a good reason, at all." maybe your latter comment was uncalled for, sure, but your head is still reeling with a jumbled collection of thoughts and insecurities, that you really don't care.

vince runs a hand through his hair, his fingers almost frantic like he's not sure what to do with them. he licks his bottom lip gently, and he slowly looks around your face. you feel yourself wanting to blush - needing to blush - under his intense gaze, but you don't allow yourself to get flustered. vince sighs gently, and his brows dip in disappointment. "I don't hate you, y/n - I could never hate you." vince is disappointed in himself for treating you so poorly to the extent of which you thought he hated you - that was never his intention.

"then why did you act like you did?" your bottom lip trembles with emotion, and you hate that feeling. you don't want to seem weak or affected by his behaviour, even if it has made you upset - especially if he's about to tell you that you mean nothing to him...again.

vince sighs gently, his large eyes swimming with a hundred different emotions of his own. "because i'm a dick...and I was confused and maybe even a little scared." he pauses, swallowing his nerves as they begin to creep up his throat. you still look unsure, so vince continues. "I would act a certain way around you because I didn't know how else to act - or what to do. anytime I was mean or rude or acted this nasty way towards you it wasn't because I didn't like you, it was because I liked you too much. every petty comment, look or action was a bad attempt at me stopping myself from kissing you."

you inhale sharply, "what?"

"back in high school I was confused by my feelings for you. god, y/n I was constantly thinking about you and everything you did- it was consuming me. I thought nothing could happen because you were my younger sister's best friend...so when I kissed you at that party and I felt my feelings intensify, I pushed you away because I was scared." he takes a step closer, now in arms reach from you. you watch him curiously, intently listening to vince's words.

“so I would be mean and act like that kiss meant nothing - that you meant nothing because I let my pride get in the way. I thought I couldn't get hurt if I was the one who was hurting you - that turned out to be bullshit. I hate what i've done to you and how I've acted towards you. this christmas was the first time I let myself love you the way I always have and - can you please say something here because i'm totally freaking out.”

you blink once....and then twice. you're sure your mouth is opening and closing like a fishes would, but you're not even focused on that right now. the shock confession from vince is the only thing you hear - the only thing you've ever wanted to hear from him and he just said it. you blink a third time, "why did it take so long for you to say that?"

"you had a boyfriend - you were dating my old friend and you seemed happy. I didn’t want to jeopardize your relationship by being selfish and telling you how I feel...even if seeing you with evan killed me."

you nod in understanding - it makes sense, it's starting to all makes sense. although, you still can't be too sure. if vince is telling the truth, which you're pretty positive he is just based on how distraught and flustered he looks standing here now and telling you this - but there is one lingering comment that hasn't left your mind since the christmas tree farm, one that you need clarification on. "what did you mean by the real me?"

vince sighs - not an irritated or angry sigh, but rather like he knew the question was coming. "the real you means before you needed to put your guard up around me - before I turned into a complete idiot and you turned into a stranger. I meant it in the most sincere and positive way, and the comment stemmed from my own guilt and actions...i'm so sorry, y/n. for everything."

"evan was right," you start quietly, your voice still timid. "all that hating each other stuff wasn't believable. vince i've loved you since you moved here and i've never stopped."

he exhales in visible relief at your confession and for the first time this christmas morning, vince touches you, gently taking ahold of your warm cheeks between his palms as he cradles you in his hands. his thumbs stroke your cheeks soothingly, a much needed comfort you've been needing from him. "seriously?"

you nod against him. "seriously...and i'm sorry too."

"you don't need to apologize to me." vince is interrupts you softly, the beginning stages of his usual smirk tugging at his lips. "you've never done anything wrong or unwarranted that makes me deserve your apology, okay?"

"okay." you sigh.

vince smiles and slowly, his thumb moves down your face until he's gliding over your bottom lip. it's swollen from you constantly biting it, as well it's bruised from the pressure of his kiss last night. he gently pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb and the he leans down towards you open mouth and kisses you.

your lips pops back into place as his thumb releases it, and it immediately morphs around vince's mouth to complete the perfect kiss. this kiss is different from the one last night - even from the one many years ago during 7 minutes in heaven. there's no rushing or uncertainty, and the way your lips mold together and pass over one another is nothing but magic.

you sigh pleasantly against his mouth, pulling him impossibly closer by his hoodie. you can feel vince smile against your lips, the feeling of you so desperate and pleased as you slip your hands under the bulk of his sweatshirt and run along his bare skin, is the best feeling vince has ever felt - you are the best thing vince has ever known.

"are you guys coming downstairs or what?" johns voice is teasing as he calls up the stairs, and you can practically hear the knowing smirk just through his tone.

"yeah, stop making out and lets open these damn gifts." sammy sounds farther away than her dad, like she's still sitting on the couch as she calls for you and her brother.

you and vince pull away from one another, slightly breathless but grinning. "she's your sister." you brush past him, gently poking him in the side as you pass by.

immediately, vince grabs a bowl of your wrist and pulls you back towards him. it has you squealing slightly, letting yourself be pulled back into his embrace effortlessly. "she's your best friend" vince brushes the tip of his nose along yours, giving you a soft eskimo kiss.

your face scrunches at the tickly sensation. "yeah well, your sister and my best friend is going to kill both of us if we don't go back downstairs."

vince groans and reluctantly releases you from his tight grip. after all, if sammy is irritated with you both for holding up the present opening, could you imagine how mad she'd be if vince fucked you on her bed. you giggle slightly at the thought, walking out of sammy's bedroom and back down the hallway.

just before you can make the descend back downstairs, vince pushes up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he whispers in your ear. "I love you." to further his point, he kisses your cheek, sending butterflies loose through your entire body.

you will always love vince dunn.

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cuteandhughesy · 3 months ago

Text

Couldn’t Make It Any Harder | Leon Draisaitl

summary: you and leon draisaitl hate each other. point blank period. your best friend, lauren and her fiancé—as well as leon's teammate—connor are sick of it. they conjure up a plan that ends with you and leon sharing a rather passionate kiss. after that, you can't tell how much you and leon actually hate one another, but with lauren and connor’s wedding coming up, you both have no choice but to try and get along.

[word count] 18.9k

a/n: i’ve been saving this idea for the right player and as soon as my brain put leon with this plot….it was a done fucking deal. i’m so obsessed with this idea, and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as me ❤️‍🔥

🎵 couldn’t make it any harder by sabrina carpenter

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the crunch of the nut between your teeth echos through your skull, the slightly sweet taste accompanied by the perfect salty aftertaste wrapping around your tongue and attacking your tastebuds. you chew the beer nut slowly, like you're savouring each one you toss in your mouth like it's a game.

after all, it is a game. maybe not the actual eating part, but the part where you keep your eyes trained across the dimly lit bar, gaze never filtering from his as he too tosses individual beer nuts in his mouth.

you're waiting patiently for him to crack—pull a disgusted face, which inevitably he will do. because leon draisital hates beer nuts almost as much as he hates you. you know leon's distaste for the bar snack only because you heard him say the very first time you met 4 years ago, ironically in a bar.

your friend, lauren insisted that you had to meet her boyfriend's teammate—the infamous leon draisaitl. you let her drag you out to a local edmonton bar, one that was too dark and smelt like leather. you let her hype leon up like he was a trophy—like he was going to be your new best friend. but leon was not a trophy. he was pissed off, and when you smiled at him, he scowled in response. and when you tried to give him a handful of beer nuts as a piece offering, leon said; 'I fucking hate those things.'

you tried to chalk it up to a bad night, or maybe even a shitty week. but as months passed, leon never changed. he hated you. if he wasn't completely avoiding eye contact with you, he'd roll his eyes. if you were in the same room, he'd make sure he was across it and far away from you. if leon was anywhere near you, he'd make sure you knew he didn't want to be there. so in return, you decided you hate him more. and oh god, as the years have gone by has that hatred brewed and constricted into an endless loathing and bickering cycle.

slowly, you grab another beer but between your red painted finger nails—red because it's leon's least favourite colour—and bring it up to your lips. you let it rest there for a moment, testing him. is he going to do the same thing? is leon going to play the copy game? just as slow as you, leon reaches into his own jar of beer nuts on the other side of the bar, his much larger fingers bring a single nut up to his lips.

your lips part, and you toss the nut into your mouth. leon does the exact same. you chew as slow as you can once more, savouring the combined flavours because that means leon has to do the same, and you know it must be torture.

and that makes you smile.

just when you think you're going to have to repeat the whole process, there's the smallest pull of disgust across leon's face, and he takes a large gulp of his beer to wash down the nut.

your grin smugly, and without breaking eye contact, you raise the entire jar of beer nuts to your mouth and down the entire thing. you chew happily, and then look away with a satisfying feeling low in your belly.

you spin off the bar stool, fully intending to slink through the crowd until you find one of your friends and then force them to dance with you to take your mind of the german red flag across the bar. but as soon as you spin, you're meeting the eyes of lauren soon to be mcdavid—also known as your best friend.

you jump, a hushed curse passing through your lips as you clutch your thumping heart.

"what are you eating?" lauren asks like she didn't just send your stomach down to your ass. her blue eyes dart over your shoulder to briefly look at the empty jar before she curiously looks back at you.

you're still chewing the mouthful of beer nuts you just shoved in your mouth like a deranged chipmunk. "beer nuts." you say, although it sounds more like deer guts through your full mouth.

but lauren hears you perfectly fine. "beer nuts?" she asks, "seriously? are you and leon playing that stupid game again?" the words beer and nut combined together never fails to send a shiver through your best friends spine—mostly because she knows their tied to leon and your hatred for one another. and then when she remembers that her best friend and her fiances best friend hate each other, she gets another shiver and the whole thing repeats itself.

you swallow the remainder of food roughly, "it's not a game to me," you huff ludicrously, "he's the childish one that feels the need to copy every single move I make—"

"alright," lauren sighs, cutting off the ramble that was surely about to happen, "I get it. i've heard it enough times now, I think I could recite it for you—I'll save you the breath." her tone isn't serious, but you know your and leon's hatred upsets her.

you sigh softly, falling back against the backrest of the bar stool. lauren slips into the empty seat beside you, flagging down one of the bartenders and ordering herself another sex on the beach. once she's done, she turns to look at you. "are you guys going to be able to get along for the wedding?"

the wedding in question is her own—a wedding in which both you and leon where apart of. as much as you love your best friend, and you're looking forward to the royal wedding of the hockey community, you've also been dreading this summer for the exact same reason. and that reason being having to be apart of the same wedding party as leon fucking draisaitl.

your eyes dart back across the bar, and you find that leon is already looking in your direction. he's not alone now, connor and one of connor's childhood friends are sitting with him—chatting and laughing like they have no care in the world. once your eyes meet, leon looks away.

you roll your eyes before looking back at lauren. "if there's no beer nuts there, everything should be hunky dory."

the dig at leon doesn't go unnoticed by her, and lauren sighs again. "y/n, i'm being serious." her and connor's wedding is just under two weeks away, and she honestly didn't think she'd still be dealing with the bickering between you and leon—but here she is, stepping on eggshells around you both.

you frown and run a hand through your bouncy hair. guilt laces through you, "you're right, i'm sorry. I know it's important to you, and i'm trying my best but god, he just...frustrates me so much." you laugh like it's a joke, scratching at your arms as if you're trying to crawl out your body. "I feel like my body is on fire when he's around."

lauren nods emphatically, leaning against the side of your body like she's giving you a hug without arms. "I know it's hard but please, just try. for me."

lauren was one of those girls who has been planning her wedding since she came out the womb. when she was 10 she already had one of those scrapbooks that detailed everything she wanted included on her big day. she's been planning the entire wedding without a planner simply because she wants to. that combined with her clothing brand, you know lauren has enough stress on her plate without having to worry about you war with the german superstar.

that's also a reason you told her not to worry about your birthday that falls in a few days because you knew she had enough to worry about, and planning your party like she does every year needs to be the least of her worries. but you caught her ordering custom balloons two days ago, and you knew you shouldn't attempt to stop her. once lauren has her mind set on something, it's hard to change it.

reluctantly you nod, and a slow smile begins pulling at your lips. your wrap your arms around your small blonde friend, resting your cheek on the top of her head. "of course. i'll be good."

even though leon is the problem, your brain reminds you rudely. you ignore it though, because that's the last thing you should say to her right now.

you feel lauren relax in your arms, but not completely which makes you a bit anxious and feel even more guilty. "thank you." she pulls away, grabbing at your hands and pulling you both off the bar.

the tender slides her drink on the bar top, which connor had already paid for (praise that nhl money), and lauren downs the entire thing instantly. "let's go dance—this is my jam!"

"usher is your jam?" you laugh curiously, letting her bring you out into the heart of the dance floor.

she nods like it's obvious. "oh yeah," lauren's sarcasm is clear, "scream is actually going to be my first dance song."

you cackle your usual loud laugh, falling into lauren's arms as you both dance along to the upbeat bass. "you're such loser!"

"I know!" she smiles, spinning around so fast that her hair smacks your face. "but you love me!"

hours later, after connor has ordered you an uber and sent you home, him and lauren slide into their own. he can tell something is weighing on his fiancés mind by the silence lingering between them, gnawing on the skin of her thumb which she only does when she's anxious.

"hey," connor starts softly, "what's wrong, babe?"

his question is the final nail in the coffin, and immediately lauren is whining, falling against his shoulder dramatically. "what are we going to do?"

"what?" he questions, wildly confused. connor slips his fingers through lauren's straight hair, twisting the strands around his index finger to create little ringlets.

she huffs. "about leon and y/n."

connor's hand stills in her hair. "what about them?"

"connor, seriously?" lauren stresses, sitting back up straight as she turns to look at her fiancé like he just suggested they should call off the wedding. "they hate each other."

"they don't actually." connor laughs, pulling her back into his side. lauren goes easily, but her shoulders are still tense.

"they do." she whines again, "and i'm scared it's going to ruin our wedding. I know y/n, she'd never do anything to hurt me on purpose, but leon brings out this side of her and she just looses control." lauren's bottom lip wobbles as she finishes, and connor spots it immediately.

"hey, it's okay." he whispers, kissing her head. "why don't we like...stuff them in a room and make them sort out there differences. leave them for an hour or two and let them figure it out." connor laughs like it's funny, because for the most part his suggestion was a joke.

but lauren freezes, blinking at connor as she registers the idea. slowly, her lips turn up in a smirk. "actually, that's a great idea."

—

"hey!" lauren's cheery voice automatically makes you suspicious. this close to the wedding and a more than chipper tone is the recipe for disaster. she continues, her voice grainy through your phones speaker. "can you do me a huuuuggggee favour?"

there it is. you laugh gently, sitting up from your previously slouched position on your rather uncomfortable love seat, pushing the fraying knit blanket off your legs. "what's up?"

you can hear her smile through the phone. "okay so i'm totally running late at my hair appointment, and I have the wedding chef coming over in 20 for some menu items for the rehearsal dinner, but i'm not going to be there."

your brow quirks curiously. "okay? what do you need from me?"

"I need you to just be there and make sure he gets settled," lauren says, "I'd ask connor but he's on the other side of town. i'll be there as fast as I can. If you could do this for me you'd be the best bridesmaid ever."

"alright," you chime easily, getting of the leather cushions underneath you. "i'll head over now."

"perfect," she says, sounding suspiciously smug. "you know the code! I can't thank you enough, this will be great."

your brows pull tightly and create a dimple in the middle of your forehead. before you can ask her why she's acting so weird, lauren rushes a goodbye and the line goes dead. you blink in surprise, chalking up her behaviour to pre-wedding jitters.

you toe one some flimsy sandals before grabbing your keys and sunglasses, making your way down to the lobby of your apartment building.

the air is warm, and smells like summer. you drive with the windows down for the entire ride to lauren and connor's condo, the air whipping through your hair and warming your skin.

once you arrive at her place, lenny greats you excitedly, tiny yips leaving his wiggling body as he licks your exposed skin—no doubt getting a salty taste of your fake tan. "hey buddy," you greet just as happily, baby voice in full affect, "I missed you my boy."

your phone pings with a text from lauren, 'I've got some menu samples in my beside table. can you grab them once you're there."

you respond quickly and then put your belongings on the crispy clean kitchen island—lenny at your feet as you move. he almost trips you twice, but he's so oblivious and happy with his tongue half way out his mouth, that you don't even care.

you quickly make your way down to her bedroom, pushing open the door and padding inside the carpeted room. you stifle through her beside table, but the only thing you find is a tangled pair of headphones, random hair ties and way too many sleeping masks.

you frown, but figured lauren just misspoke. you round the end of the bed and to connor's nightstand. like you expected, connor's nightstand is freakishly organized. everything has its own compartment—even the condoms for fucks sake.

behind you, lenny's ears perk up and just as quickly he springs out the room, leaving you alone and more than anything, confused. where are the damn menu samples? you scan the room quickly, hands on your hips as you try and think of where your best friend would stick them. the sound of socked feet approaching have you spinning to face the door. lenny bounds back in first, and then leon appears.

"what are you doing here?" he asks, face nothing but taken back.

you cross your arms, "what are you doing here?"

"I asked you first."

"you're so annoying, oh my god," you groan dramatically, and it makes lenny bark before he's running back out the room. soon enough, you think, you'll be following him. you continue, "i'm helping lauren. she needs me to get some menu samples and then wait for the chef."

leon chuckles like he's in on some joke you've been left out of, his hands tucked causally into the front pockets of his jeans. you grimace at the sight because it's way to hot out to have your legs fully covered. "well I'm here to do the exact same thing. except connor asked me."

you scoff. "lauren said he's on the other side of town and can't be here. that's why she sent me."

"funny," leon scoffs a laugh, "because connor said the same thing about lauren—hence why i'm here."

you drops your arms to your sides ludicrously, looking at leon with the upmost displeasure on your face. "okay, well clearly someone fucked up—you, most likely," you pause and leon rolls

his eyes. "but let's just find these menus so that we can both leave. I don't want to be in a confined space with you for any longer than necessary."

"awh, you're so sweet." leon says, voice dropping with venom and sarcasm. he walks further into the room, movements casual as he brushes straight past you, his bare bicep bumping your shoulder. "you can't find the menu's?"

"no," you stress, following him as he makes his way to connor's beside table. "and I already checked in there."

leon checks anyways and that has you rolling your eyes. "okay, well you're awful at looking for things, so double checking is necessary."

"double checking is necessary," you mock, voice all high pitched an annoying.

he sends you a look over his broad shoulder, "are you done?"

you don't answer, turning on your heels and walking over to the built in book cases that line the entire wall. the shelves they're packed, mostly with aesthetic looking pieces that are so shiny and white they make your head hurt. you begin poking through the collection of books, searching for the menu samples—huffing quietly to yourself anytime you remember that leon is also in the room.

he makes his way over to the book shelves as well, opting to look through the case on the opposite side of the open door. he is still too close for your liking, but you're not going to start that argument. you can't see him past the door, and you can only hear him mutter curse words to himself as his search is unsuccessful.

"why don't you just text lauren and ask her?"

you scoff, "why don't you just text connor?"

"my phones in the car."

"and mines in the kitchen."

"are you seriously that lazy that you can’t go down the hall and get your phone?" he asks incredulously, looking at you over the edge of the door, book shelf long forgotten.

you laugh. "of course not! I just don't feel the need when we can just look ourselves."

leon goes to take a step towards you, because he knows that you’re not looking properly through the books on that side, and he bumps the door, sending it to shut with a dull thud.

your breath hitches as the code system stares back at you. "you better know the code for that."

"why would I know the code?" his eyes find yours, looking at you like you've just suggested world war 3.

you try to open the door, but much to you dismay it's locked. you're locked in a room with leon draisaitl. "no," you whine, jiggling the handle more aggressively in hopes it decides to magically unlock. obviously, it doesn't.

"jesus," he huffs, "relax."

"oh, i'm sorry!" you look at him wildly, "i'm just a little bit upset about being trapped in a room with the spawn of satan—my apologies for trying to get out."

"spawn of satan?" he repeats, words laced with what you're pretty sure is amusement. it makes your blood boil. "don't call yourself that, y/n."

"you must have a death wish."

"oh, I must."

you squint pointedly, lips twitching in a frown. "whatever." you mumble dismissively, turning heel and making your way back to the perfectly made bed in the middle of the room.

leon watches as you sit down on the corner of the mattress, bringing your feet up and resting your arches on the frame of the bed. you're not wearing socks, and your toenails are painted navy blue. he notes that you must've worn some sort of flip flop.

you catch his eyes and scowl. "what?"

"should you really be sitting on their bed? rubbing your feet all over a frame that probably costs more than your monthly salary."

"would you prefer I do jumping jacks?" you question even though you're not wanting an answer. "hate to break it to you draisaitl, but this isn't the first time i've been in this room. or on this bed."

leon snickers, walking towards you. "right, yes I forgot that lauren is cursed with spending time with you."

you roll your eyes and don't say anything.

he continues. "they'll be here soon."

"not soon enough."

this time it's leon who doesn't respond to your condescending comment, but instead slumping down in the sherpa oversized chair in the corner of the room. he picks up one of the table books, some kind of chanel picture one, and begins flipping through the pages.

everytime he flips the page, much louder than necessary, you sigh in exasperation—which only eggs him on.

5 minutes later you hear two sets of feet padding down the hall, and your eyes widen, shooting off the bed so fast that you almost trip over your own feet.

"y/n?" the muffled voice of lauren calls curiously on the other side of the bedroom door. "leon?"

"we're in here." you say, jiggling the handle again for good measure.

"how'd this happen?" connor is the one asking, his voice laced with what can only be described as amusement.

leon joins you at the door. "the door shut obviously."

"no," you correct quickly, "leon's clumsy, big body knocked into it. trapping us." you stress wildly, eyeing the man in question with displeasure.

his brows raise in faux excitement. "you think i'm big?"

your eyes roll again—you won’t be surprised if they get stuck on the next round. you turn your attention back to the closed door, "guys, what's the code so we can get out."

neither lauren or connor answer. your brows pull, arms crossing roughly across your flowing summer top. you can hear their hushed whispers through the door, which only raises your and leon's suspicion.

finally, lauren says, "actually, I think you guys should stay in there."

leon blinks hard. "what?"

"yeah, sorry repeat that, I don't think I heard you right. because it sounded like you want us to be stuck in here together." you add, body feeling hot and itchy as the situation comes to light. or maybe it's just because leon's standing close enough that is cologne is all you can smell—practically choking you at this point.

connor's sighs, "you guys need to work it out."

your eyes flutter in disbelief, and you take a step closer to the door like it's going to change something. "okay, how about we do that somewhere else?"

leon hums in agreement which makes you scowl.

"no." lauren huffs, her voice determined. and you know, like usual, once she has her mind set, she's not going to change it. "in our room. with no escape."

after their conversation in the uber a few days ago, lauren and connor decided that yes, they were actually going to get you and leon together and force you to reconcile. it was actually connor who said they should separately tell you that they needed help with the chef and the menu samples, and then while you were distracted trying to find them—which were actually in the kitchen, not the bedroom—they would shut you in the apartment.

so when they showed up, ready to shut the front door that's unlock didn't work if it was locked from the outside, they were surprised to find neither of you in sight. thanks to their coded bedroom, you'd been already trapped.

to which they say, tomato tamoto.

"this is ridiculous." leon huffs in annoyance, reaching out to tug on the brass door handle. the action annoys you, even though you were close to doing the same.

lauren laughs like it's a joke. "no what's ridiculous is ruining a wedding because you two can't stop lunging for each others necks." her voice is firm, definitive as she continues, "so you have an hour and by then you better be friends. or friendly. whatever."

"you can't serious." leon's laughing is laced with disbelief, not even sparing you a glance as he stares down the wood paneling of the bedroom door.

"deadly." she says, "see you guys in an hour. we're gunna run some errands." her voice slowly begins to fade, walking away and leaving you.

"I thought that’s what you were just doing," you call out.

"we lied."

soon enough you and leon are enveloped in the silence, and once lenny's little nails click down the hall, you are left completely alone.

you exhale a scoff, turning away and practically stomp back to the bed. leon watches you move with an unreadable expression, but you’re too busy throwing yourself down onto the bed to notice.

the blankets puffs around you. its own of those feathered ones that poke you once it starts getting wear and tear, and that makes you more annoyed that it should. but you chalk that up to already being baffled by being trapped in your best friends bedroom.

leon's voice breaks through the quiet room, "well now what?"

you sigh, sliding up onto your elbows to send him an unimpressed look. "don't you know, leon? this is the part where we get out the tea set and play!" the faux smile on your face quickly drops as you finish, and that makes leon rolls his eyes with agitation.

"you're ridiculous."

you don't say anything and send him one more exaggerated grin. you flop back against the mattress. it's actually a heavenly bed besides the blanket, which thankfully hasn't poked you yet.

the first 30 minutes is nothing but silent. the only sounds coming from the air conditioning unit humming lowly through the vents and the blanket shuffling under your body as you squirm. you can't help it, the silence is eating you alive.

"can you stop moving so much?"

you make a show of moving even more as you sit up on the bed, shuffling down to the edge and letting your legs dangle over the end. "i'm a bit restless, you know being trapped in a room with nothing but you and your loud breathing."

leon's brows furrow. "I don't breathe loud."

"you do," you confirm, "it's fucking annoying."

"ah," he chimes, "like your sporadic limbs."

"that's a big word, leon. have you been studying the dictionary like the bore you are?"

he breathes a scoff, "you wish I was a bore, y/n. that way you wouldn't be so obsessed with me."

"obsessed with you," you repeat, laughing, "you are so full of yourself!"

leon stands up, and your face falls, watching him through hooded lids as his jaw ticks, eyes pointed in your direction. just when you think he's going to walk closer to you, he turns, looking through the bookshelves like he hasn't done that already.

you swallow roughly, staring the his back as he moves—slowly—reading the spines of designer books and hockey novels. his tight t-shirt is doing him all the favours, wrapping around his body in a perfect fit to display the muscles he's worked hard on. sometimes, you forget leon is an athlete rather than just your friends friend, and you’re always crudely reminded by his bulging biceps or his abs in the summertime as he lounges by the pool—seeing him like that is a rude awakening.

thinking about leon's abs, dripping with water while he lounges poolside has you feeling a bit funny, and you blink. hard. pulling yourself out of your own head. oddly enough, your mind trickles to lauren and the many times she's referred to abs as washboards.

you sigh gently. getting into a verbal ring with her finances best friend is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now. a rush of guilt washes over you, and as not only her bridesmaid but her closest friend, you know you need to abide her wishes and figure your shit out.

"leon." you say his name firmly.

he looks at you over his shoulder, one of his eyebrows raised in question as he waits for you to continue.

"we have to stop fighting. for lauren."

leon turns his body completely, facing you. "you think I don't know that, y/n?"

you huff. "I never said that you didn't, leon. but this is my best friend's wedding."

"and mine."

"god, do you always have something snarky to say back?" you ask, exasperated. "this is exactly what we can't be doing. at least i'm trying, leon. ugh! you drive me insane.

his eyes widen slightly, taking a subconscious step closer to you. "and you think you're just some angel?"

you shake your head, shooting off the bed until you're standing—a subconscious attempt at trying to give yourself some leverage. "I think that you're stubborn and can't accept my ideas."

"and what 'Ideas' might those be?" he asks, mockingly.

"we need to pretend to get along," you pitch, voice still laced with venom and irritation. "if we can't get over this thing between us, then we have to fake it. you have to pretend like you can at least tolerate me—that you can stand to be in the same room as me without ripping me a new one."

his expression is unreadable, jaw tight and eyes unmoving as he looks down at you. then, slowly, his gaze changes. "you want me to act like you don't drive me insane?"

your face falls slightly at his tone—a tone that has a weird feeling bubbling low in your belly. you nod.

leon purses his lips, looking away from your face to take a deep, long inhale like he's trying to clam himself. it's making you feel woozy. he looks back at you, something like frustration clouding his expression. "you want me to just pretend that you don't make me want to argue every little thing you say? like everything little thing you do frustrates me in ways I cant explain?"

your lips part, searching for words that aren't there. the way leon is looking at you, with so much tension and frustration has you faltering. you've never been speechless in his presence, and leon knows that—he sees that—and takes the opportunity to continue.

"have I finally got you to shut your mouth? or do you want me to keep going?"

your breathe hitches, a wave of heat flushing over your summer tanned skin. the way his gaze is unwavering and so intense has your blood pumping so hard that the only thing you can hear is the heavy breathing between you.

"please," slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the plea whiny and surprising to you—desperate.

leon exhales shakily, but the sound is just as desperate as the breath that gets caught in your throat. he lunges towards you, one hand sliding through your hair and tugging while the other finds the dip of your waist, dragging you against him as he kisses you.

his lips caress yours hungrily, sucking and licking along the plump flesh almost instantly. it's hurried and messy and intoxicating. both your your panting is combined, mixing with breathy groans and clashing of tongues and teeth. it's dirty and it's sure as hell needy.

and maybe it’s because you haven’t been with a man in years, or maybe it’s simply because you’re annoyed with the situation. but you want leon.

he grunts into your mouth, fisting your hair hard enough to illicit a whine from you. your hands, which were previously stationed over his torso, running over his shirt like a mad woman, slide into leon's hair, feeling his soft locks between your fingers—painted red nails scratching against his scalp.

his hands cascade down your body, wrapping around the backs of your thighs. before you can register what's happening, leon hauls you off the ground and drops you down against the feather filled duvet.

everything is hurried between you and leon, including the continuing kiss. his hands are running all over your body—up your thighs as he hovers over you, sliding under your summer top and feeling your soft, supple skin. and you're not any better, squeezing his arms and holding his face.

there's a burning tension between you, like there always is, expect now your irritation and frustration is channeled into a kiss—a hot, messy exchange that is leaving you so turned on.

leon's lips trail over your jaw, nipping and suckling along your skin like he can't get enough of your taste. you're withering against him, gasping as his lips travel down your neck, finding your pulse point and sucks.

the beeping sound echos through the room, barley audible over your panting and low moans, but you both hear it. the door is about to open. you pull away from one another at lightning speed, leon getting off the bed completely as he swallows thickly.

you run your hand through your messy hair just as the bedroom door opens, revealing a curious looking connor and a hesitant looking lauren. they're both eyeing you, but it's connor who speaks first. "so? can we count on you guys behaving?"

you blink before looking over at leon. but he's not looking at you, only at connor as he nods once—firmly. then leon walks out of the room, brushing past his teammate and fiancé without so much as a second glance at you.

you gulp, a million emotions clawing at your flushed chest.

lauren still looks unconvinced, raising one of her perfectly plucked brows in your direction—eyeing your slight pant and hazy eyes. "everything go okay."

"yeah," you nod, the smallest scoff leaving you. "and if it didn't, we can just pretend." the word feels like venom on your tongue. there's a part of you that thinks what just happened between you and leon was all pretend. a regretful moment that was nothing more than a source to channel pent up frustration and years of anger.

it meant nothing. leon still hates you. and you...don't know what the fuck just happened.

—

like you suspected, lauren throws you a birthday party. a surprise one at that, even though you knew exactly what was going on when connor texted you and asked you for help on picking out flowers for the rehearsal dinner.

bad distraction on his part, because lauren ordered the flowers for the rehearsal dinner two weeks ago while you were beside her. you went along anyways, and even acted surprised when everyone jumped out from different areas of the mcdavid/kyle condo.

lauren squeezes you tightly, "happy birthday!"

"thanks," you hug her back just as tightly, "I told you that you didn't need to do anything like this. I would've been happy with some wine and reruns of friends."

she rolls her eyes fondly, guiding you further into the crowded home. "I know you would've been, but I certainly wouldn't have." and that's the most lauren thing she could've said, and it makes your smile grow wide.

there's a lot of people here, you note. mostly mutual friends and connor's teammates and their significant others. it's decorated beautifully, with all your favourite picky foods laid out on the island and a makeshift bar along with it.

people greet you enthusiastically, wishing you a happy birthday as you make your rounds through the party, lauren at your side—who you're pretty sure is already halfway to hammered.

mikayla nurse gives you a bear hug, which she always does, and darnell follows suit. "happy birthday!" he says, pulling back and taking his original seat on one of the barstools against the stark white island. ryan nugent hopkins and his girl do the same, all of you flowing into easy conversation.

mikayla is in the middle of talking about something funny her oldest did before her and darnell left, when your body ignites. it's an odd feeling, but one you're used to at this point. subtly, your gaze shifts down the island and that's when you see him.

leon is leaning on the counter causally, fingers running along the neck of a beer bottle as zach hyman and him talk about whatever it is they're talking about—frankly, you don't care to know what their discussing.

you haven't seen or heard from leon since your kiss 3 days ago. you weren't expecting to feel so many emotions after getting kissed by your mortal enemy, but you are. you think it probably has to do with how he just up and left afterwards, like he couldn't give a fuck about you, which in hindsight he probably doesn't. he never has, your brain reminds you.

as if he can feel your state, his eyes flicker to yours. leon's expression changes, so subtle that it's almost unnoticeable. his fingers still on the beer bottle. you look away just as quick as you looked, turning your attention back to the group in front of you—nodding along like you know what they're in the middle of talking about.

you need a shot. or 6.

and shots you have. lauren is the one who starts it, like usual, insisting that the birthday girl needed a celebratory shot of tequila. then that turned into two, and then three and before you know it you can barley feel your limbs. you're loose, and happy and very much drunk.

it makes being in the same room as leon more tolerable for the mere fact that you keep forgetting he's there. it's only when he laughs too loudly, or someone says his name in your vicinity that you find yourself searching for him. not without immediately cursing yourself for it though.

it's nearing 2 in the morning when lauren grabs on to your arm, her expression hopeful and excited. "oh my god," she slurs, "we need to go swim."

you gasp with enthusiasm. "yes! oh my god, lauren I love you so much—what a good fucking Idea."

everyone has left by now. going home to their kids and going to sleep. the thought makes you feel a little down, because the only person you're going home to is damon fucking salvatore. ah, yes the old birthday depression moment. but thankfully lauren snaps you out of it, dragging you out of the apartment and down the hall to the rooftop.

the heavy metal door clicks open, revealing the blue light of the large pool. it smells so good—like summer—and you groan. "oh my god, yes!"

neither you or lauren bother stripping, and you jump into the pool fully clothed. the water splashes therapeutically as you are submerged under the warm water. it feels amazing, and you kick your legs until you're breaking through the surface.

lauren giggles, treading her hands over the waters surface. "it feels so good."

"I know," you agree quickly, eyes fluttering in bliss.

"lauren." connor's voice is stern, but there's a hint of amusement there that he only saves for his fiancé and her drunk shenanigans. "we're not supposed to be out here at night. let's go."

you didn't even notice he followed you guys out here and you blink in surprise—you also giggle, which has connor sending you a sharp look.

lauren makes a fart noise, but lets her fiancé help her out of the pool. water drips off her clothes like a waterfall, soaking the pavement under her feet. connor ushers her back to the door, saying something that you can't quite make out before leaving you alone.

the water is sobering you up a little, but you're still tipsy enough that everything feels like silk. you dip your head back, soaking your hair and covering the tips of your ears.

you're floating, listening to the muffled sounds of the city night life below. its peaceful, and you think you could stay out here forever. your eyes are only fluttering closed for a moment, and when you open them again you see leon.

he's watching you, hands on his hips from the side of the pool—looking anything but amused. you hadn't even noticed him come out, but you also didn't notice connor so that doesn't mean anything.

too drunk to be scared by his sudden appearance, you just laugh, swimming into an upright position and facing leon. your tank top is sticking to your skin uncomfortably, and if you were sober you'd probably be having a sensory overload.

"get out of the pool" his voice is demanding and unarguable.

you lazily shread water, blinking the pool sting out of your eyes. "why would I do what you ask me to?"

leon scoffs a half hearted laugh, looking away from you momentarily. when he meets your gaze again, you’re still grinning—a little up to no good smirk that has leon gulping. "don't be annoying," he says, "get out before something happens. like connor said, you're not supposed to be in here."

"oh wow is that a threat, mr. drasitail?" you laugh.

he tongues his cheek, "you're drunk."

you toe the rough side of the pool and gently kick off, sending yourself back floating through the water. "tipsy, but sure." leon's shoulder deflate in what's surely annoyance, and he runs a hand over his face. even drunk, you know you're being difficult, but you're not going to give up that easy. "you know, you can't annoy me today. it's my birthday."

leon licks his teeth slowly. he tries to keep his eyes off you and your completely see through tank top as you glide through the water, but he can't help himself, gaze flickering back to you. "I wouldn't have to annoy you if you'd just get out of the pool."

your shoulders drop. "you're such a buzz kill," you grumble, swimming to the edge of the pool once again, right in front of leon. your hands grip the edge, and you blink up at him with wet lashes. "can you at least help me out?"

he gulps, adam's apple bobbling under his stubbled skin. "legs broken or something?" he mumbles with something unknown lacing his tone—doubt, disbelief, want—as he looks into your wet eyes.

you ignore him, raising your palm in his direction and wiggling your fingers. for a moment the action sends you off balance, and you begin slipping backwards. leon’s eyes widen, twitching is if he's going to reach out and grab you, but you catch yourself before he can.

he huffs again, gaze darting between your hand and daring eyes. “don't leave me hanging on my birthday, leon,” you say.

"it's not your birthday anymore, y/n." leon deadpans after a moment.

you pout and he sighs, closing the distance between you and taking your slick palm in his. just before he pulls you out, you use the leverage to tug his arm down towards you, sending leon off balance and into the pool next to you with a loud splash.

he breaks the surface at record speed, looking at you with what can only be described as frustration. he splutters, wiping his face of chlorine scented water droplets. "seriously?"

you bite your tongue in an attempt to mask your growing smirk, "you looked hot."

"thanks," he mumbles playfully, shoulders dripping under the water as he treads.

"don't flatter yourself." you huff, momentarily stopping your own feet from treading water to nudge his leg under the surface.

a beat passes. the sounds of rippling water and heavy breathing the only things to be heard between you.

leon breaks the tension, voice gruff. "are you going to get out now?"

you shrug, and your chin dips under the surface. "are you not going to ask me how my birthday was?" ask comes out in a slur, and it makes leon's jaw tick.

"if I do will you get out of the pool?"

"yes." you grin softly, chin submerging once again.

"okay." he hums, looking very much unimpressed. "how was your birthday?"

your grin deepens, "it was good," you say, "got everything I could've ever asked for."

"mhmm," he hums, brow raised curiously, "and what did you ask for? one of those grow your own boyfriends?"

you laugh, the sound forced and very much sarcastic. "just a dart board with your face on it, actually."

he blows out some air, very amused, "ou good one." then like a child he shakes out his hair, water sliding off his strands and spraying you.

"hey!" you shout, turning your face away from the water attack.

"relax," he chimes, "you're not going to melt."

you look back at leon, a look of amused disbelief flashing over your features as your lip tugs upwards. "maybe I will. I am a witch after all."

leon hesitates, something he rarely does. he wants to look away, your wet lashes and pink lips too intense—too tempting—but he forces himself to to hold your unknowing gaze. "you're something."

your mouth parts, "you're something." you repeat, voice all high pitched and mocking as you splash some water in his direction, the small wave hitting his chin.

he licks onto his lower lip, watching your smile grow as you wait for his next move. just when you think you're not going to get a rise out of him, leon moves. he grabs your ankle under the water, so quick that it makes you squeal, and pulls you against his chest.

the laughter that had previously been bubbling up and past your lips comes to a sharp halt, and you’re left blinking in surprise as your body intertwines with leon's. you're both completely clothed, but it feels like your stark naked. the heat between you is implausible, chest heaving and breathes mingling.

his hand grips your knee firmly before he releases—but he’s not done. leon fingers skim up your thigh, so gentle that it's ticklish. you want to squirm, but you're too scared it will end the tension filled moment. his palm runs over your hip, feeling your soaked jean shorts under his palm.

your breath catches, the sound just gentle enough to reach leon's ears. his eyes dart to your wet, plump lips and he feels himself twitch. when his eyes meet yours again, you swallow, arms slowing down in the thread.

"are you going to kiss me and then leave again like nothing happened?" you don't have time to curse your drunk tongue, because leon answers almost instantly, voice surprisingly smooth and clear, but still deep enough to have your stomach swoop.

"you want me to do that?" he asks you, pushing some wet hair off your shoulder, further exposing your sun kissed, freckled skin.

you lick your bottom lip. "depends what part you're talking about."

his eyes dart back down to yours lips at the sight, watching as your tongue swipes along your lip. your faces are so close that the tips of your noses are almost brushing. you're practically panting, wrapped around leon like a koala as he threads water for the both of you.

you could be staring at each other for 20 minutes, or twenty seconds. you're unsure. time has gone completely still, slowing down like sticky molasses as you and leon exchange longing, needy stares.

your mouth opens, ready to beg him once again, but he unwraps you from his body, hands finding your hips and lifting you out of the pool. you blink, shock and confusion flashing on your face as leon sits you on the edge.

he doesn't look at you as he pulls himself out of the pool effortlessly, but you watch him. his biceps flex under his once light gray, soaked t-shirt, and if you weren't so overcome with frustration and confusion you'd be blushing.

he gets up on to his feet, "let's go, y/n." leon's tone leaves no room for argument, and he's already waking towards the heavy, metal door that leads back to the condo complex.

you scoff, getting up onto your own feet. "dick," you mumble to yourself, lips tugging down in a frown and gaze pointed as you watch leon's retreating figure.

you don't know if he hears your curse, but if he doesn't he doesn't turn around to dispute with you. you could be annoying, jump back in the pool and make him drown in his own frustration. but you don't. you're tired, shocked, angry and most of all, embarrassed.

—

"y/n!" lauren says your name happily, and tipsily, stumbling over to you through the party bus and practically falling into your lap. she smiles, thrusting a shot of some white liquor in your direction, "do this shot with me!"

you smile and that's when you notice she's got the same liquor in her shot glass—a gift from alannah hyman. it's milky white and says bride in script on the side in big, sparkly letters.

you take the shot from her, "are you trying to get me drunk before we even get there?"

she nudges it closer to your mouth, a giggle spilling past her painted lips. "well it is a wedding party! so yes."

fondly, your eyes roll which only makes lauren squawk. you send her a real smile before bringing the glass to your mouth and tipping it back, downing the shot of what you know know is vodka, in a huge gulp.

your grimace, body doing a funny little shiver as the liquor coats your throat and warms your skin. the air conditioning isn't a match for the humid july night, and you're practically dripping with sweat. actually, everyone on the bus is dripping with sweat, but most of them are already so tipsy that it doesn't matter.

when lauren told you in addition to separate bachelor and bachelorette parties she was going to throw a joint one, you were a little hesitant. I mean, you love your friend and will do anything to make her happy—so you bit your tongue—but the idea of having to spend even more time with leon has your blood curdling, especially after the whole pool indecent a few days ago.

once again, you haven't seen leon since the almost kiss in the pool, which has you feeling even more embarrassed than before. you're not sure what's been unlocked with leon, but since your actual kiss in lauren and connor's bedroom almost a week ago, there's been a funny feeling lingering in your head.

you're not sure what it is, or how it makes you feel. all you do know is that it makes you hot and nervous and angry all at once. so really, nothing has changed.

so today, you'd been feeling extremely anxious. you thought about reaching out to leon—having his number saved from many years of being in the same random group chats—but you decide against it. after all, he's clearly not interested in fixing the hostility between you, and you're not going to be some desperate, submissive girl who just backs down and lets him win. absolutely not.

when you were all piling onto the party bus, leon nowhere in sight, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement (and maybe a little disappointment, but you don't even admit that to yourself). when you casually asked connor about it in passing, he looked at pointedly, "he's got some shit he needs to figure out with his agent, so he's going to meet us there."

you couldn't even hide your eye roll at that. you think the real reason he's not traveling on the party busy is because he probably just didn't want to get forced to dance on the stripper pole in the middle of the bus—he's so boring.

the bus comes to halt outside the bustling club, and everyone inside cheers. so loudly it makes your cringe a little, but you digress. lauren wraps her arm around yours, bringing you both off the bus and into the modern, sleek night club.

the music inside is instantly deafening, some kendrick lamar song that you've heard on the radio for three months straight. you're already feeling buzzed from the shot in the bus, and the one you did at connor and lauren's before your ride came.

"hey!" connor comes up behind you both, wrapping his arm around his fiancés waist as he speaks over the music. "we've got a table booked on the platform, so I'm gunna get up there."

lauren grins, placing a smacking kiss against the corner of his mouth. "okay," she shouts, "we're gunna dance."

he nods with one of those reserved-for-only-lauren grins before leaving you both, making his way through the crowd with the bachelor party.

lauren shakes your arm excitedly, "let's get a drink and then fucking dance, baby!"

you easily get lost in the feeling of the music and the warmth of the crowd. you and lauren dance together for what feels like hours, downing shots and sipping cocktails until way past the achy feeling starts in your feet. other girls from the bachelorette party join in, all of you screaming along to lyrics and dancing against one another like silly, drunk college kids.

leon walks into the club around 10, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to go home. for days he's been flustered and angry, brain scrambled with a mess of thoughts—working overtime and keeping him up at night. the meeting with his agent ended almost two hours ago, but he needed time to collect himself before joining the wedding party.

before seeing you.

connor's brother spots him first, calling his name in a sing song voice that instantly has leon peeking up, plastering on a smile as he climbs the stairs of the platform. the boys begin chatting his name like a group of seagulls, gathering the attention of many lingering bystanders in the night club—it makes leon shiver with discomfort. but thankfully, no one notices.

he's never been a fan of crowds, or attention, but being one of hockey's biggest stars quickly had him getting used to it. bars and clubs though, they will never be his thing.

someone thrusts a beer bottle in his hand, and he takes it greedily, popping off the cap before taking three large gulps. the foam coats his lips, dripping down his chin before he wipes it away.

the platform overlooks the face floor. it's secluded enough to feel private, but still open enough to not feel like you're missing out on the fun. leon finds himself looking through the crowd, beer bottle handing loosely in his grip as he searches.

it's not hard to find you, or any of the girls for that matter. you're all wearing variations of white and cream, which glows blue in the black lights scattered around the club. you're dancing against lauren, hands up in the air as you sway and sing along to some mainstream pop song leon has never heard.

you're covered in a sheer layer of sweat, making your tan skin glow. you look happy, and so tempting. as if you can feel his stare, your eyes find his. as they meet, your movements falter, and your face drops.

leon swallows roughly, pushing off the balcony and forcing himself to break eye contact. his blood feels like it's boiling, burning him from the inside out. he forces another mouthful of beer down, turning his attention back to some of connor's childhood buddies, easily sliding into their conversation.

your teeth clench as your eyes linger on the place leon was just stood, watching you with an unreadable expression. everything feels too constricting now, too warm. it feels like his eyes are still on you—even when you turn back to lauren and she starts doing a terrible rendition of the sprinkler. you can't shake him.

so when a large hand wraps around your waist, and an attractive man appears behind you, you don't stop him. he's not super tall, and his hair is so dark it's almost pure black. clean shaven, with soft hands and smelling like smoke and whiskey.

he's nothing like leon, and that makes you grin. you allow yourself to get wrapped up in the man, dancing with him like your life depends on it. his breathe is warm against your ear, "you're really sexy." his fingers dig into your arm, almost too roughly.

but you smile regardless, "you use that line on all the girls?"

"can't give away my secrets." he grins. his smile is nowhere as nice at leon's though. the man licks onto his bottom lip slowly, "wanna get out of here?"

you hum thoughtfully, looking around the crowded dance floor. when you meet mystery man's eyes, he's hopeful, and it makes you sigh regretfully. "sorry, i'm here with my friends."

"ah."

"yeah," you nod, "thanks for the dance but clearly we're not on the wavelength here. i'm gunna get back to them." you turn, but before you can disappear back into the heart of the dance floor, he grabs your arm.

leon is practically burning as he watches you dance with the short, finance looking bro from the platform. his teeth are aching from how hard he's clenching, and he's pretty sure the glass bottle is about to crack in his palm.

he's angry. he's in disbelief. he's fucking jealous. leon has never felt this level of jealousy before, and he's not even sure if that's what it actually is. it's a white hot fire stick, poking at his chest until he recoils.

you're laughing. and smiling. the guys hands low on your back and running over your hips. a few nights ago that was leon touching you there, and that only fuels his frustration. he watches the two of you talk, a hesitant look on your face that has his stomach dropping.

he stands up straighter, shoulders rigid. leon's scowling at the mystery guy, whispering in your ear as he says whatever shitty pickup line leon has no doubt the dudes used on multiple woman in this club.

then you start walking away, and relief begins to trickle in his bloodstream. unfortunately it doesn't last long, because when the guy reaches for you, grabbing you arm and tugging you back towards him, leon sees red.

you squeak at the feeling of the man's hand on your bicep, squeezing you hard enough that you can feel it in your bones.

"we can keep dancing," he tells you, firmly, "i'm not some dick who's going to act like getting rejected is a personal attack."

you tug your arm away, "i'm sorry, but i'm done dancing right now. it was nice meeting you."

the man's laugh makes you shiver unpleasantly. "you got a boyfriend or something? is that why you're acting like a-" his words are cut short as leon's fist flies, hitting him across the face in a quick, hard punch.

you gasp, a sickening crack echoing in your ears as his knuckles connects with the guys nose. he grabs it, blood seeping through his fingers and dripping onto his blue button up.

leon's not phased, flexing his fingers causally—like he didn't just punch a random guy in the face.

"oh my god," you shout, rushing forward to check on the guy and his obviously damaged face. the crowd stops all around you, whispering and pointing at the scene like it's a movie. your mouth opens, shocked, looking between the mystery guy and leon. "what the fuck!"

leon huffs, sending you a sharp glance before turning on his heels and pushing through the crowd. it feels like everyone is looking at him, judging him, and it has him feeling breathless. angrily, he shoves the doors of the nightclub open, stepping out onto the sidewalk and taking a deep breathe.

he rubs the back of his neck roughly, a curse leaving his lips. leon feels embarrassed about letting his emotions take control like that, but the anger seeing that guy grabbing you—pulling you—has his embarrassment fading away, replaced with fury.

the air feel nice, even though the july air is humid and thick, it's much better the the stuffy club. leon walks to the stone half wall that frames the greeny along the club, taking a seat on the lip with another rough sigh. he's only alone for about a minute before the club doors swing open, and you come storming out.

your eyes are wide—frantic even—searching the sidewalk until your eyes land on him. that's when your face falls, arms crossed defensively as you stare at him.

leon swallows, shrugging his shoulders. "is he hurt?" he asks, even though he already saw the answer.

"his nose is broken." you deadpan.

"good." he hums, checking his knuckles quickly. ones split, but he'll fix it later.

you laugh in disbelief, "good?"

"yeah," he confirms, eyes finding yours again. you've stepped closer in the time he was looking at his hand, and you look even angrier up close. "he shouldn't of touched you like that."

you shake your head. "I can handle myself."

leon snorts. "clearly not, y/n."

you make a scoffing noise, arms tightening further across the white dress wrapped tightly across your chest. "I was actually having a good time," you start, voice firm but tinged with something else, "but thanks to you, my night is ruined."

"I know you y/n," he deadpans, standing up from the wall, "your idea of a good time and his idea of a good time is vastly different. he was going to try something." leon walks closer to you, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.

the tone of his voice, so frustrated, has you shocked. the audacity of leon to be upset with you after he punched a poor guy in the face is beyond you. your arms uncross, falling against your hips with a smack. "and so what?" you question, "what's it matter to you? why do you care?"

your voice has gotten louder, more venomous. it makes leon laugh roughly, looking down you with cynicism. "why do I care?" he practically shouts, reaching out and almost touching your exposed shoulder. "you're..." leon stops himself, a gentle curse leaving him. he huffs loudly, running a hand down his face in a slow but rough way.

a moment passes. cars passing and honking down the street, club music vibrating the concrete below your heels. your eyes don’t leave leon's figure, which is practically vibrating with emotion.

you swallow, voice much more quiet when you say, "I'm what?"

"ungrateful." he grunts.

your lips pull into a frown as the bridge of your nose begins to string. "screw you." with one more furious look in his direction, you turn heel, shoes clicking on the pavement as you make your way back to the nightclub's entrance.

you're so angry. it's fuelling your blood stream and stopping your feet. your arms cross again, eyes pinched as you turn back around. you're not done with him yet. "do you ever think about things before opening your mouth?"

leon looks shocked momentarily, but he recovers quickly. he shoves his hands into his jean pockets, nodding slowly. "yes."

"oh really?" you ask, "like when?"

"I thought about not answering your question just now."

"oh grow up!"

"i'm grown."

"really?" you ask wildly, "is that why you punched a guy in the face?"

"a guy who deserved it!"

"for dancing with me?"

"for touching what's not his."

that has you faltering, leon's words hitting you like a slap to the face. he knows that what he just said was possessive—uncalled for. he has no right to say that to you, you're certainly not his to claim. it's the jealously getting the best of him and wanting to make you feel how he's feeling.

and it worked. guilt tickles your skin and pales your face, looking back at leon with a straight face. you feel like you've done something wrong by dancing with that guy—like you've done him wrong. "oh, okay then," you start, voice timid and so gentle that it has leon faltering. "who's am I? please enlighten me."

he knows he can't keep going down this route with you. he'll regret it. leon takes a slow, deep breath, shaking his head. "i'm not playing this game."

that's rich, you think, considering he's the one who starts all these stupid games you find yourself unable to untangle yourself from. you can't help but laugh with false humor, "oh but you love games!"

"y/n," leon sighs tiredly, "stop."

connor comes bustling out of the club, and much like your expression and wandering eyes from 5 minutes ago, he's looking for leon just like you had. once he spots you in a stand off, leon's jaw tight and your eyes misty, he all but stomps up to the both of, face painted and livid. "are you guys seriously fighting? on top of everything else that happened tonight. I thought you guys stopped this fucking shit " he looks at you, still frustrated, "lauren is going to be pissed, y/n."

leon steps towards his friend calmly, despite his firm tone, "it's not y/n’s fault." he says definitively, a flash of protectiveness flashing over his face.

connor blinks, confused, looking between the pair of you. his jaw is tense, tendon popping under his beard as he tries to clam himself down. seeing his best friend punch a guy in the face for seemingly no reason, which obviously made his fiancé upset, combined with walking out and catching the two of you arguing when you'd already told lauren everything was squashed between you and leon, has connor spinning.

leon continues, "we're fine."

"are we?" you question, pettily.

connor shakes his head, a breathless laugh leaving him. the tension between the two of you is undeniable, and it doesn't matter what you say—you're arguing and leon's fight has ruined the night. "leon," he starts, eyeing his friend firmly, "you need to go. both of you. drive y/n home and while you're at it, make sure this shit between you gets sorted. for good."

"okay." leon nods after a tense moment, fishing his keys from his pocket and walking down the sidewalk. he glances back at you, "let's go, y/n." he doesn't sound angry anymore, but he is still very definitive with his tone.

it has you moving, following behind him timidly, arms crossed tightly and tears fall freely down your cheeks. the damage has been done. your drunk and tired. that combined with your argument, and connor's scolding has you feeling very guilty and emotional.

leon unlocks his porsche, the beep echoing through the back parking lot of the night club. it's the car he's always had ever since you've known him, and you always mockingly call it his, 'big fancy sports call', everytime you see it. yes, it's a porsche but not a sports model—leon never corrects you though.

but you stay silent behind him, the only sound coming from you is your shoes on the ground. it has leon pausing. he attempts to glance at you quickly—sneakily—but as he catches the sight of your glistening tears under the moonlight, everything shifts.

the sight makes him swallow down the immediate rising guilt and regret that threatens to make its way out of him, halting his movements by the passenger door of his car. you sniff, eyes downcast.

it sends a pang through his heart, sighing softly as he faces you fully. "come on."

your chin trembles and you shake your head. he watches as you dig through top of your dress, pulling out your phone from where it rested beside your boob. you begin thumbing the screen, unaware of how your boob is now practically spilling out of your dress, sitting perfectly plump and bulged in a way that makes leon shift.

"i'm ordering an uber," you mumble, blinking through tears as you try to navigate the uber app.

"no," leon breathes, opening the passenger door with an echoing click. "you're not getting in an uber while you're drunk and alone."

you roll your wet eyes. "connor would let me."

"i'm not connor."

you pause, eyes flickering up to meet leon's. he gestures to the open car, a pleading look in his gaze. not in the mood to fight any more, you sniffle, turning off your cell before dragging yourself to the passenger seat.

leon's shoulders slump in relief, moving to the side so you're able to get into his car properly. once you're seated, leon shuts the door and rounds the front to the driver's side, where he lets himself in.

you keep your eyes forward as he starts the car, letting the engine roar to life as he clicks his seatbelt into place. he glances at you gingerly, "put your seatbelt on."

you sigh but do so. once he hears the dull click of the buckle, leon releases a tension filled sigh, shifting the car into drive before slowly pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

you really wish you could stop crying, but controlling your emotions have never been your strong suit—fighting with leon for years because he didn't smile at you one time is enough proof of that. your quiet hiccups are heard throughout the car, too tired to attempt to mask them. your arms are crossed again, like you're trying to hug yourself. your chest shakes with every breath, inhale or exhale, as your continue to cry, eyes trained out the windshield.

you won't look at him. you can't look at him. you're embarrassed and still a little angry, and you've given leon enough of your range of emotions in the past week that he's probably sick of then by now—more than he normally is.

the car slows at a red light, the rumbling of the engine coming to a quiet hum as the car completely halts. leon taps the steering wheel with two fingers, licking his teeth as he glances at you. "why are you crying, y/n?"

his words bring another round of tears to your eyes. you huff, sniffling away your running nose. "because."

"just because?" leon pushes gently, eyes flickering back to the traffic light to check its status. still red. he looks back at you, bathed in the red glow. "c'mon, help me out a little bit here."

the sincerity of his voice makes you frown. in that moment you're in desperate need of an outlet, someone or something to talk to in hopes that your tears will stop. and right now, you don't care if that person is leon, especially with the way he's looking at you—despite his deadpanned expression, there's still a softness underneath it all.

you nod, as if you're convincing yourself to confide in him. with another sob and trembling breath, you say, "lauren is going to hate me now."

the lights changes to green, and leon blinks, turning away from you and shifting the car into drive. a moment passes before he sighs softly, shaking his head, "she's not going to hate you." he says, glancing at you quickly.

"i've ruined the night." you counter, bringing your knees up to your chest to cradle yourself. your dress shifts, sliding dangerously high on your thigh, and the sight has leon internally cursing, he licks onto his bottom lip, forcing himself to look away from your soft skin.

"you didn't ruin anything," he reassures you, "I was the one who got all...angry and punched that guy. trust me, lauren will be okay. you'll be okay." leon pauses, eyes flickering away from the deserted road and over to your tear stained face. "besides, how could anyone ever hate you?"

your lips part and you shift your head to look at leon. his expression in unreadable, but he barley lets you analyze it because he's turning his attention back to the road. finally, you find your voice. "you hate me."

leon shifts gears, and he does it so smoothly that you don't even jolt in your seat. that also means you don't look away from his side profile, eyes pointed and curious as you await his response.

"I could never hate you, y/n." he swallows, adam's apple bobbing under his stubble. leon doesn't look at you yet. he can't.

"that's a lie," you mean to sound firm, but your words come out nothing short of a whisper. your brows pull tightly, confusion etched across your forehead. "because you do hate me."

that makes leon falter, glancing over to you after he shift into a different lane. "do I?"

you don't answer, mostly because you're unsure what kind of response leon is looking for. you tear your eyes away from him, looking back out through the windshield and keeping your gaze trained on the pavement as it disappears under the car.

leon sighs to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. he eyes you again, but you're still not looking at him. your face is tight, but you've stopped crying for the most part, only the occasional tear that slides over your salty tight skinned cheek. a flash of fear comes over him—what if you're too uncomfortable with what he said to cry?

leon curses. the last thing he wants to do right now is make you feel worse. his eyes trail over your body as he hits another red light. your legs are still pulled up, hands wrapped around your calves like you're cradling yourself. it makes his heart sink, but then he sees it. your nails.

the usual flame red you wear is replaced by a neutral colour, accompanied by white french. his mouth opens before his brain can catch up, "taking a break from the red?" leon's words have you blinking, looking back at him curiously. his eyes flick down to your hands, "your nails."

"oh," you hum. you hadn't even known that leon had noticed the little red nail detail you've been committed to for years. the colour you'd pick solely because leon didn't like it. thinking about it now makes you feel a bit silly, but something about leon mentioning it has you feeling fuzzy. "yeah," you clear your throat, sliding your hands between your thighs shyly, hiding them from his sight. "lauren wants us all to have french tips for the wedding."

"that's a shame," leon sighs, stepping on the gas as the light changes. "you look good in red."

"you hate the colour red." you say quietly— cautiously.

"doesn't mean I hate it on you."

a beat passes as you sit with that confession. your drunk brain has a difficult time pacing the pieces together, brows furrowed in confusion as you keep your eyes trained on leon. you breathe a laugh that sounds like a scoff. "why are you being so nice to me?" you question, "is it just because im upset?"

"not just because you're upset," he replies quickly, "i've been enough of a dick to you to last a lifetime. and I know how important lauren is to you, and how much you want to fix this thing between us before the wedding so she's happy." leon stops himself, swallowing roughly as he looks back at you. "i'm trying my best to start fixing it."

"what is this thing between us?"

his thumbs strokes the leather wrapping around the steering wheel, "whatever you want it to be."

you make a funny noise. "what kind of answer is that?"

leon can't help the way his top lip twitches, the smallest grin threatening to take over. "the right one for how drunk and upset you are."

"I don't like that answer either."

that does make him smile. "I know you don't."

silence fills the car after that. you let your legs fall back to the ground, feeling much more relaxed then when you first got in. and leon notices out of the corner of his eye, which makes his shoulders drop in relief. they ache slightly from how tense he'd been, but he can't even think of that right now.

not when you start to talk, voice curious and gentle. "how come you hit that guy?"

he sighs lowly, not taking his eyes off the road as he flicks on his signal, car turning into the parking garage of your apartment complex. you blink in surprise—leon hadn't even asked for directions once. he remembers where you live.

"when you're upset, it's makes me crazy," he starts shamelessly, hands tightening around the wheel as he recalls the scene at the nightclub less than an hour ago. "and tonight, when that asshole grabbed your arm and the tiniest flash of distress crossed your features, I didn't even think." leon looks at you quickly, meeting your intent gaze. it makes him look away just as fast. "not only was I jealous but I was so fucking angry that I just lashed out."

he pulls into an empty parking spot, which is thankfully a few steps away from the elevator. leon shifts the car into park before he looks at you again. when he sees the slow smile on your face, his stomach swoops.

before he has a chance to question why you look so...pleased, you begin to talk. "wait, you were jealous?" you ask him, eyebrow raised curiously.

leon's neck feels hot, and he forces himself to laugh, even though the sound comes across awkward. he rubs the back of his neck and looks away from you, which only makes you giggle. "okay, let's not dwell on it." he mutters.

"oh my god," you tease, "big tough leon draisaitl was jealous."

"y/n."

"this is amazing"

his eyes twinkle with amusement. "i'm trying to apologize," leon tells you, the smallest smile pulling at his lips.

"I know," you grin, "I never thought this day would come! should I get my phone out and take a video of this? post it on my story so everyone can see?"

leon rolls his eyes fondly as you laugh, head falling back against the head rest as you look at him. you obviously are just teasing him, and that has leon's heart strings tugging. "are you done?"

"with this?" you question, knowingly, "never."

the smile that follows that is different, one of those smiles that you only save for lauren and when you're talking on the phone to your family. leon almost wants to get his phone out now and snap a picture of you—because he's never seen anything more beautiful.

—

the muskoka air bnb is beautiful. so much so that it doesn't even feel real. it's decorated in white, with lots of neutral florals and greenery that line not only the main house, but the multiple guests house littering the property.

connor and lauren had flown the wedding party out yesterday, and you had been so exhausted from travel, as well as trying to not stare at leon for the duration of the flight that as soon as you arrived you passed out.

since leon drove you home from the night club a few days ago, there's been a major shift. you'd seen him a few days afterwards at a dinner hosted by lauren's parents for the wedding party and family, and obviously he attended. there was a part of you that thought he'd ignore you like he always did, but he actually smiled at you. a half grin from across the room as he held a champagne flute that made your stomach flip.

and then two days ago, the day before traveling to muskoka, leon texted you. you were in such a shock from seeing his name flash across your screen, that you almost forgot to answer him. after 30 minutes you finally responded to his message, asking if you wanted a ride to the airport tomorrow—to which your answer was thanks. that be great, leon :)

immediately you cringed at your own message. it made you feel like a school girl with a highschool crush who was trying to come across casual but was miserably failing—wait, are you a school girl with a highschool crush who was trying to come across casual but was miserably failing? just as immediate you pushed that thought away, storing it on the back burner to later dissect.

this weekend is not about you or the sudden butterflies in your stomach when you think about leon—who a week ago, you thought couldn't stand you. you're still not sure if he even likes you, despite everything. so yeah, back burner it goes.

when you woke up today, much closer to the afternoon than the morning, you'd be in for a surprise when you walked down the hallway of your designated guest house and saw leon standing in the kitchen, sipping coffee while scrolling through his phone. shirtless.

"oh!" you practically squeal, jumping around and covering your eyes with a hand. you knew that you'd be sharing the guest house with some of the wedding party, you just didn't think it would be with him.

he laughs, clicking off his phone and setting it on the island. "i'm not naked, you don't have to hide."

you peek through your fingers first and see him looking at you, palms flat against the counter as he leans into it, mug sat in the space between his hands. when you catch sight of the sweat pants—although hung dangerously low on his toned hips—you drop your hand. "you just caught me off guard." you swallow.

he grins, all syrupy and slow before pushing off the counter. leon stalks over to you, and the closer he gets the more nervous you feel. just when you think he may stop, he walks right past you, hand brushing your wrist. "lauren and connor need us ready for 1:30 for something. connor's brother and jenni are already outside." he calls back at you, stalking down the hallways.

you had to wash your face in freezing water to calm yourself down from that interaction—mostly caused by leon’s shirtless torso, but that's neither here or there. you slipped on one of your white cocktail dresses, because even though leon didn't say what was happening, you knew it was the welcome party in the garden.

leon wasn't in the kitchen or the living area when you emerged from your room, thankfully, so you had another few minutes to calm down while you made your way across the property. guests have already started to arrive by the time you sneak up beside lauren, greeting her warmly while she beams at the sight of your face.

you help her make her rounds and tidy up whatever she feels needs it while people mingle, snacking on hors d'oeuvres and sipping alcohol under the july sun. when you get a free moment, you nudge her side to get her attention, "why didn't you tell me leon was in my house?"

she frowns slightly, "he is? thought he was in the other one but I guess not." before you can get her to elaborate on that, one of the waitstaff comes over, whisking her away to deal with whatever snack debacle was occurring.

you spend a few hours mingling with everyone, sharing laughter and drinks happily. you've never been to muskoka, and you can't help but appreciate how beautiful and scenic it is. lauren and connor couldn't of picked a better spot to get married.

on instinct you hear lauren’s laugh echo through the garden, and you spot her almost instantly. your best friend has never looked more beautiful or happy since you've known her. connor stands beside her, the two of them in their own little world. he's whispering in her ear which is the reason for her laughter. you love them so much.

your eyes begin to prick with tears, and you quickly look away before they can fall. you grab a napkin hurriedly, bringing it up to your lower lash line so it soaks up your salty tears. thank god you're alone right now, because it's so embarrassing.

"oh no," leon's says from a few feet away, eyeing you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "you're crying."

his voice cutting through the silence makes you jump slightly—when did you get so jumpy around him?—and you turn to look at him, a small bubble of laughter leaving you. you sniffle, balling up the napkin in your palm, "I know. i'm a mess."

he shakes his head, a half smirk, half frown on his face. you don't even know where to begin trying to understand what that means. leon walks closer, taking the napkin right out of you palm and throwing it in the small garbage underneath the long buffet style hors d'oeuvres table. "what's got you emotional?"

on cue lauren laughs again, and you sigh dreamily, glancing the happy couples way. "they're just so in love. this place is beautiful, lauren and connor are beautiful and i'm just...so happy for them."

leon watches you for a long moment, brows furrowed slightly as he listens to your confession. when you look back at him, there's new tears in your eyes, happy ones but laced with a longing you hadn't realized you possessed. leon's gut pangs with something all too familiar as you look up at him. he can't help but wonder if for years you'd been too worried about trying to get him to like you in some capacity that you'd been too busy to look for what you need. what you want. what you've always desired: to feel loved.

the way you're looking at him now, no trace of anger or resentment in your eyes, makes him feel comfortable—complete. it's then that he knows that yes, you'd been too focused on leon's stubbornness when it comes to you, to notice that he never hated you. not at all.

he gives you a closed mouth grin, reaching to wipe away the tear that's pooling under your lashes. "you'll get it too, y/n. love."

your lip twitches, and his eyes on you feel so intense you have to look to the ground. "think so?"

he guides your face back up. "I know so." leon swallows gently, eyes darting down to your lips just like they had in the pool many days ago. your lips part, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. he licks along his lower lip, "i'm sorry, y/n. for everything."

and you know he means it.

dinner time comes quickly, sneaking up on you. leon weighs heavy on your mind as you shove garden salad in your mouth—the conversation today, his shirtless torso, the way he notices your nails, the way he touched you in the pool, the way he kissed you. even the way he eats damn beer nuts.

you try and distract yourself with the conversation flowing all around you, stretching down the long dining table under the warm fairy lights dripping from the trees. but your mind always drift back to him. leon. leon. leon. the man who hasn't left your mind since you met him years ago, is still the man who you think about today.

it doesn't help that he's sitting diagonally from you, your eyes catching every few minutes like there’s nothing else to but to look at one another.

you need a cold shower and a long nights rest. and leon, you brain taunts you.

after desert and another hour of mindless chatting, everyone starts heading home and packing in for the night. tomorrow would be a long day of rehearsals and last minute prepping for the wedding on the following day.

you practically run back to the guest house, stealing one of two showers before any of the other house guests have a chance too. the water is relaxing, and helps ease the tornado of thoughts and unwanted questions in your mind.

whatever you want it to be.

you're glad you have a room to yourself because you don't want to put pyjamas on. you crawl under the covers completely naked, sighing as your head hits the pillow.

leon. leon. leon.

hours pass, the guest house bathed in the sound of water lapping against the stoney shore. sleep doesn't take you, leaving you tossing and turning like a child. you huff, reading the small alarm clock on the wooden beside table: 2:17 a.m.

you slip out from under the sheets and grab one of your oversized shirts, pulling it over your frame before making your way to the door. you're hoping some water and a change of atmosphere will help you feel a little sleepy. you toe down the dark hallway until you round into the kitchen.

the image of shirtless leon, leaning over the island this morning flashes through your mind. you shake your head, sighing again before going to the cupboard and grabbing a mug.

you fill it with the brita in the fridge, and then you drink it slowly, doing your best to calm your restless limbs and even more restless mind. after a few minutes you put the mug in the sink and make your way back down the hallway.

one of the bedroom doors creaks open, and you falter. even in the dim light, you'd recognize him. leon looks at you, curious, one brow raised the highest fraction taller than the other. he's shirtless again, which makes you swallow.

"hi." you mumble dumbly.

"hey."

you walk further down the hall, right by your bedroom door which before this moment, unbeknownst to you, is diagonally across from his.

you watch leon's eyes dart down to your legs, trailing up your soft skin and reaching the hem on your not so long t-shirt. his eyes linger there, and you flush. "sorry, I," you stutter, "wasn't expecting to see you. or anyone really, at this hour."

he finds your face. "don't apologize."

you nod, clearing your throat again. you've never been at a loss for words in leon's presence, besides the moment right before your kiss over a week ago, but right now you're rendered speechless.

"you okay?" he questions tenderly, assessing you.

"yeah," you say, thumbing down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. "couldn't sleep, so just had some water."

he nods once, "ah."

"are you okay?" you ask him.

leon blinks, nodding again. "yeah. just had to use the bathroom."

"ah." you repeat his earlier words, and his mouth twitches.

"yeah." he mumbles.

you breathe, "well, I should probably try and sleep. it'll be a long day tomorrow."

"yeah, me too." he say, but it doesn't sound convincing. leon eyes your legs again.

you squeeze your thighs together, a small gasp leaving your lips. the sound has leon's eyes snapping up to your face. you reach behind yourself blindly, finding the handle of the door knob. "goodnight leon."

"night." he says, turning the knob of his own door and pushing it open.

whatever you want it to be. the words taunt you as you look at leon's back, muscles pronounced and tempting. your mind is still racing with the unknown—your body on fire—and this interaction didn't help at all.

you're desperate for answers.

so before his door closes, you step forward. "leon?"

he pauses, pulling the bedroom door back open. not fully, but just enough so he can lean on the trim. "yea?"

you shutter as you inhale, fingers itching as you try and keep your hands to yourself. leon's skin is glistening. pecks and chest covered in a neat spread of hair that trails down his abs and disappears below those stupid low rise sweatpants. focus. you force yourself to look back up to his face.

whatever you want it to be.

"what would you of said the other night in the car if I was sober?" you ask him, "when I asked you what are we, you said whatever I want us to be."

leon remembers the conversation all too well. it plays on a constant loop in his head and it has since he dropped you home that night. "yeah, I did." he confirms lowly.

"so what's the real answer?" you swallow gently, "what would you of said? if I asked you right now, what would you say?"

a moment passes.

leon huffs, eyes finding the worn wood of the house as he rubs the back of neck roughly. he meets your eyes again—your curious, hopeful gaze. "I don't know." he says.

"you don't know?" you repeat slowly—hesitantly. like your testing out the sound of it on your tongue. a flash of sadness washes over your face, and leon feels awful.

he steps back into the hallway, "I don't mean it like that, I just..." he trails off, breathing deeply.

you don't give him the opportunity to finish that thought. your arms cross over your chest, a defensive stance that makes leon frown. "how come when we first met you didn't smile at me?"

the question catches him off guard. not because he didn't know the answer, but because he hadn't realized it had been in your mind. leon didn't realize that you noticed that when first time you met, he didn't smile back at you. heat flushes his chest and neck, "y/n..."

the look on his face has you stopping. he looks almost distraught, and that's not at all what you were expecting. there was a part of you that thought leon didn't even remember that first meeting. the solem look on his face suggests otherwise.

"please," you breathe, arms falling as you step closer to him. "I need to know what I did that made you so upset that you couldn't even smile. it's been years of racking my brain, desperately trying to understand what I did-"

"I couldn't smile because I was scared." leon cuts you off firmly, gaze pointed.

"scared?" you repeat curiously. "scared of what?"

"y/n." he says your name again. almost pleading with you.

you reach out, letting your nails trail over the side of his bicep. you blink up at him, "leon, please."

a beat passes.

"you had the prettiest smile i'd ever seen," leon mumbles, so quiet that you almost don't hear him. "that's what scared me. because I knew I would do anything to see it again, and from that moment I knew I had no control when it came to you." he shakes his head, a breathy laugh breaking the tense moment. leon meets your gaze, “I still don't have control around you and it scares me to this day."

your core flutters, and your heart thumps wildly. you lick your lower lip. "yeah?" you question softly.

"yeah."

leon watches as you take another step towards him, your chest pressing against his. you push up onto your painted toes, hands curling around his torso to balance yourself. he's practically panting as he watches you, nose bumping yours as he starts leaning down into your space.

"loose control, leon." you whisper sensually, nails digging into his flesh. "I want you to loose control with me."

leon kisses you hard, hands flying to your waist to keep you pressed against him. your mouths part, tongues swiping over one another as the kiss turns deeper—hotter. it's even better than the one almost two weeks ago. more intimate and more passionate.

you sigh into his mouth, hands sliding up the front of his chest and wrapping around his neck, pulling him into you even more. his fingers squeeze the fleshy part of your hips before travelling farther down, cupping the round of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. then he drags you even further up his chest, and you can feel him hardening against your core.

"you have no idea how long i've been waiting for you," he mumbles into your mouth, grip sliding down your thighs painfully slow.

you whine as leon kisses you again, lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs over his hips. the new position has your bare core resting just above his member, and just knowing that has your hips jerking.

leon's hands trail under your shirt, which is now almost completely exposing you, smoothing over your ass. he makes a growling noise, and in that moment you know he's discovered you're without panties. "you're gunna kill me." he mumbles, nipping your bottom lip and then soothing the sting with his tongue.

your hands run up through the back of his head, messing his hair. "leon," you pant, nipples pebbled and hard where they rest against him. "I need to feel you."

he doesn't answer you—not with words. his hands squeeze the meat of your ass again and spin you both around, slowly to not startle you, and walk you into his room. it's completely dark in there besides the single stream of moonlight through the window, leaving a barley there streak of light across the pillows.

leon blindly finds the bed, and once he feels the mess of blankets against his knees he lowers you to the mattress. he hovers over you, eyes flickering over your flushed face so intently—so tenderly. you sigh, a small smile blossoming on your kissed out lips.

it makes him follow suit, the two of just smiling at one another for what feels like the first time. slowly, one of leon's hands finds the side of your face, cupping your jaw while his thumb runs along the hallow part of your cheek soothingly. "you okay?"

your heart clenches, and you lean into the warmth of his palm. your eyes flutter as you nod, "yes. are you?"

"better than okay," he whispers, leaning in and reconnecting your lips. this kiss isn't hurried like the others. this one feels like molasses, slow and sweet and you can't get enough.

leon’s hand trails down your face, over the pulse point of your neck and down your t-shirt covered torso. he pays extra attention to your boobs, tugging and palming your nipples until you're arching into him.

when he reaches your hip bones—the edge of your shirt—he curses, pressing an open mouthed kiss to each side of your hips, and then another one right below your navel. your breath catches, watching as leon’s eyes flicker up yours—so close to where you want him.

leon smirks, kissing the inside of your thigh delicately. "what do you want from me, baby?"

the nickname makes your hips jerk, a breathless moan leaving you involuntary. leon's smirk deepens, hands sliding up your thighs and pushing them further apart, displaying your glistening bare pussy.

"I want you to touch me," you mumble desperately, hands fisting the bedding under you like your life depends on it.

"speak up baby." leon taunts, blowing air on your warmth.

you jaw goes slack as you squirm and wiggle against the mattress. "I want you," you swallow roughly, "to touch me."

he licks his bottom lip like he's in front of a five course meal, "good girl." leon mumbles before licking a firm strip up your pussy, tasting and spreading your sticky arousal. you gasp loudly, too loudly for sharing a house with other people, when he sucks on your clit.

leon hums at the sound, and it vibrates through your folds in a way that makes you shiver. his hands massage the meat of your thighs as he devours your pussy, keeping you spread open for him.

your panting, back arching off the bed as your core flutters pathetically. "i'm close." you whine, fingers threading through leon's hair and tugging his roots.

leon slurps your arousal, sucking your clit deliciously. just when you're about to teeter off the edge, he pulls away from you. his chin and lips are drenched in your juices, and when he smirks you just about melt.

"I wanna see your face when you cum," he admits shamelessly, already beginning to remove his sweatpants. his hard cock springs free, thick and red as it brushes against his stomach. as if leon couldn't get any more sexy, he's got the perfect cock as the cherry on top.

you bring your bottom lip between you teeth, watching him shamelessly. he catches your gaze, "take your shirt off."

and you do, quickly, like you can't take it off fast enough. you throw it to the floor and leon climbs back over your body, pressing tickling kisses against your neck that have you giggling and squirming.

"you're beautiful." leon hums, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and that makes you moan. he pulls away, forehead resting against yours, "I don't have a condom."

you shake your head, "i'm clean. I haven't been with anybody since—" since I met you.

you don't need to say it. leon knows. "me either." he kisses you again, chaste. "and i’m clean, if you’re sure?"

"yes," you tell him, "i've never been more sure of anything."

he smiles, lining his aching tip up with your sticky entrance. slowly, leon eases into your warmth. you both sigh shakily, mouth agape as leon's cock slides further and further into your pussy.

"holy fuck," he moans, "you feel so good."

you whine, wrapping your legs around his lower back, keeping him as close as possible. the feeling is electric and like nothing you've experienced before. it's years of tension, frustration, unspoken words and secret longing combined, and it feels like heaven.

leon begins rolling his hips into you, a slow pace that has your toes clenching and pussy oozing. your back arches off the bed, hands sliding up his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he rocks into your heat.

he curses lowly, the band in his stomach tightening as his impending orgasm nears. "your pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around my cock."

"oh my god, leon—mhpm." you mewl, walls fluttering and squeezing as he continues his now feverish pace. the bed begins to creak from the movement, a sound that surely gives away exactly what you and leon are up to. but neither of you care.

"fuck," he grunts, grabbing your leg and hiking it further up, almost holding it flush to your chest. the new angle is exactly what you needed, leon's tip kissing that spongy spot inside you repeatedly.

"i'm gunna cum." you whine, hands sliding around to his front, cascading up his chest to wrap around his neck. "don't stop." you beg desperately, jaw going slack at a particularly rough thrust.

"you like that?" leon asks, eyeing your pinched eyes and flushed face. he pushes on the back of your thigh, stretching you open even more and more. you shout, mumbling yes over and over again. "yeah?" he teases.

he thrusts into you three more times and you cum. you exhale breathily, falling back against the bed as your limbs go weak. your skin feels like it's on fire in the best possible way. leon's jaw goes slack, hips jutting into yours as he reaches his climax.

the feeling of him filling you up with his cum, pumping into into you softly with lazy thrusts has you cumming again, much softer than your first orgasm, but still powerful enough to have you whining.

your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion creeping into your bones. leon breathlessly kisses the line of your jaw, and then your cheek, then your nose and finally your lips. you smile into it, holding his face to yours tenderly.

"you okay?" he whispers, pushing some hair off your sweaty forehead.

you hum, kissing him one more time quickly. "yeah." you say, "i'm definitely tired now."

he grins fondly, dick twitching where it's still sheathed inside you. slowly, leon guides himself from your warmth, watching as his cum spills out your hole and drips onto the bedding. it’s truly a sight.

he curses, already half hard again. you giggle, and leon swears he's never heard a more precious sound. he cleans up your shared mess gently, pressing kissing against your skin every few seconds. it's so comforting and soft it has you falling asleep.

when leon finally climbs back up the bed, he pulls you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. he pulls the blanket over your naked bodies, and kisses your forehead, so softly that you barley feel it. "go to sleep, y/n."

and you do.

—

you take a deep breath, letting the muskoka air fill your lungs completely before you let yourself exhale. the night sky is full of stars and constellations, adding to the already perfect night.

you can hear the chatter of the last half of rehearsal dinner from up the house, lauren's laughter finding your ears like it usual does. you're both cacklers, and connor often dubs you two as the cackle twins.

the dinner has been beautiful, as expected. speeches made you tear up and laugh at the same time, and the food was so delicious is made you moan.

you woke up this morning before leon, the sunshine streaming through the open curtains and caring him in golden light. seeing him so soft and tender was everything, but the unknown of everything between you still lingers in your chest.

yes, you had sex. yes, you kissed again. but what does that mean?

you left before he woke up.

the day had been so busy with you helping lauren and getting ready for rehearsals, that you didn't see leon again until the dinner. seeing him made your heart race, and skin heat. leon looked so handsome in his suit, hair styled and casual smile on his face—chatting with connor from across the table.

you thought you could handle your feelings and emotions through the duration of dinner, but that changed as connor made his toast—a stupidly perfect toast about love that made you think of leon.

you caught his eyes through it, and he sent you a sad smile. it breaks you. you're scared of the unknown, and you want him so badly. but not knowing what leon wants is torture, and frankly it’s holding you back.

so once all the toasts are done and dinner conversation is in full swing, you slip out of the house and make your way down to the waters edge. hoping to collect yourself. the sound of the water and the crickets are soothing as you look out on to the lake. you wrap your arms around yourself, taking another deep and much needed breath.

the sound of someone walking on the rocks behind you makes you spin around, white silk dress swaying around your thighs at your sudden movement.

"hey," leon says gently, hands shoved in his pant pockets. he's no longer wearing his jacket, he must've ditched it before coming out to find you.

"hey." you parrot.

he comes up next you, arm brushing yours. "you okay?"

you hum lightly, nodding once. "just taking a breather." your emotions betray your body as your lip quivers, a wave of fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

leon spots them instantly, rounding to your front to look at you properly. "hey," he starts tenderly, brushing some loose hairs away from your face, "why are you upset?"

"i'm just...emotional." you mutter pathetically, shrugging your shoulder.

leon frowns. "about the speeches?"

"yes," you say, "no. I don't know."

he clicks his tongue, tucking your hair. his touch makes you shiver. "what about it is making you upset?" leon asks, words patient and curious.

you shake your head, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand. "it's stupid," you laugh half-heartedly, "and I really should get back inside and be present! this is about lauren and connor, not me-"

"hey," leon stops you, "no. lauren and connor are fine. it's just me and you right now, okay? what's going on that head."

that's a good question. what is going on inside your head. for years you believed that leon hated you. you were certain of it. you two would always bicker and fight, couldn't be in the same room without it getting hostile. but the past few weeks something has undeniably changed.

you sigh, voice wobbly as you begin to speak. "for years, you only looked my way if you wanted to argue."

leon frowns, reaching out to cup your jaw. "that's not true." he says with determination, brows pulled so tightly that you'd be surprised if the indent between them isn't permanent.

"it is," you huff, "and sometimes I think that's still the case." a new wave of tears and doubt well in your eyes, heart thumping against your ribs wildly. "you hate me, leon."

a moment passes, leon looking down at you with an unreadable, almost sad expression. your words couldn't be farther from the truth. leon didn’t lie when he said he never hated you. it always been the opposite for him. "okay, sure," leon starts, "I hate you."

you gulp, eyes never leaving his.

leon continues, "I hate that I know your favourite necklace was gift from your grandma when you turned 18. I hate that I know you fiddle with your rings when you're nervous, and that you'll do anything for lauren and your friends, even if that means putting up with my terrible fucking attitude. I hate that I know your favourite lipgloss is bubblegum flavoured, and that your dream pet is a snake but there's also something about them that scares you. I hate that I made you hate me, because I sure as hell have never hated you."

you sniffle, shifting on your feet as his words warm your skin. you've never told leon about yourself, but yet he knew you well enough to know them. he knows you. you knows where you live, and your nail colour. he knows you cross your arms when you get defensive and that you love beer nuts.

"then why?" you ask gingerly "why did you act like you did?"

leon doesn't say anything. his jaw ticks, teeth clenched so hard that it hurts. leon's other hand comes up to your face, caressing your tear stained skin in his calloused palms. his lips part, tongue sliding along his bottom lip. "because I love you."

you blink. "what?"

"I love you like crazy," leon repeats, a breathy laugh following. "I loved you since you walked into that bar with lauren, all smiles and wearing that pretty yellow dress. sure, you scared me but you also intrigued me. when you started fighting with me, which was warranted, there was a part of me that hated it, but another part of me loved it because it was the only time you'd give me the time of day."

his thumbs smooth over your rosy cheeks as he continues, "so i'd argue with you and fight with you because I knew that would make you look at me and talk to me. and i'm so sorry. i'm sorry that I hurt you and embarrassed you and gave you all these mixed signals the past two weeks. i'm sorry that I was falling in love you more and more each day and didn't say anything until now."

"you love me?"

leon must think you're feeling skeptical about his confession, because his thumbs still on your cheeks and his face falters. "i'm not fucking with you."

"you love me." you state.

"yes," he breathes, "i've never not loved you."

"leon."

"I know. i'm sorry."

"leon...stop."

"you can hit me or smack me or drown me in this lake if that helps. i've been awful to you and then sending you mixed signals when it's the last thing I wanted to do. I got greedy with the sex and kissing but-"

"kiss me." you interrupt firmly, sliding your hands up his stomach and resting your palms flat against his pecks

"what?" leon breathes, blinking hard as your words register in his head.

"you heard me, leon," you smile, "kiss me. now."

and he does. leon kisses you with nothing besides tenderness and pure love, lips caressing and sliding along yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak. your hands slide around to his back, squeezing his muscles firmly as he continues the kiss. his tongue slides along yours, sending butterflies down your body. you pull away, both of you breathless and so in love.

"I love you too, leon." you smile, pressing another chaste kiss to his plump lips. "and I forgive you, if you can forgive me too."

he shakes his head, "there's nothing for me to forgive."

leon kisses you again, picking up right where you left off. his hands slide down your body, down to your lower back as his thumb glide over your tail bone in a soothing, gentle motion. the kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough, and you whine when he pulls away.

he grins, squeezing the flesh of your ass. "we should probably go back inside. lauren might bite my head off if I steal her best friend away any longer."

"are you sure we can't just go have a quickie first?" you ask playfully, fiddling with the hairs at the base of his neck.

he shakes his head in disbelief, a fond smile pulling at his face. "you're a freak."

"at least i'm not a freak who hates beer nuts," you tease, poking his stomach, "but forces himself to eat them."

leon wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as the two of you make your way back up to the house. "ah, but you see, I did it for the greater good."

you snort. "and what greater good was that?"

"getting the girl."

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #leon draisaitl imagine #leon draisaitl fic #leon draisaitl x reader #leon draisaitl smut #nhl smut #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl x reader

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

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Is It New Years Yet? | Quinn Hughes

summary: friends with benefits is great in theory but when the holiday season approaches, you begin to believe that may no longer be the case.

[word count] 3.9k

a/n: based off this request! here it is, the last fic of cuteandhughesy’s christmas special! thank you all so much for the love and support you’ve given me through this special…I can’t thank you enough! stay tuned for my 2025 planner, which I plan to publish within the next few days :)

🎵 is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

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the gold sequins covering your top are extremely irritating, rubbing your underarms raw with their sharp, shiny edges. in an attempt to not freak out and just walk right out the door, you take a long and exaggerated sip from your — 5th? maybe 6th? — glass of bubbly champagne.

beside you, bella gives you a concerned look— taking a much more delicate sip out of her own glass. she's been giving you the same glances for the past hour, and at this point you've completely pretended you weren't aware of them. because you're honestly embarrassed of your own actions— anytime the door of the miller's home squeaked open, your eyes would shoot over at an alarming rate, trying to see who was walking in...trying to see if it was him.

"he's probably on his way." bella's voice is soft—comforting, placing her tiny fingers on your wrist to grab your attention.

you decide to play dumb—nonchalant—though when you've had as many drinks as you've had, is practically impossible. "who?"

this time it's brock who gives you a look behind bella, but unlike the sympathetic look you've been getting from his girlfriend, brock's eyes glaze with vexation. he doesn't save you with sugary words or a reassuring smile, just a deadpan expression. "you know who, y/n/n. quinn."

you laugh through a raspberry, borderline snorting at his words.

brock sighs knowingly, very much used to the whole....thing you’ve got going on with quinn— and your denial that comes along with it.

"why would I care if quinn is coming?"

brock's brows raise. "nobody asked you that."

your face falls, your skin heating up with a mixture of embarrassment and the alcohol running ramped through your bloodstream. "well, I know what you were insinuating."

"wasn't insinuating anything-"

"alright," bella cuts of gently, squeezing brock's bicep in an almost warning manner—she knows better than to not argue with you when it comes to the topic of quinn hughes. "what brock is trying to say is that it's okay that you're looking for quinn, y/n/n. he said he'd be here by now."

you wave your hand, dismissing your friend nonchalantly. "I know. i'm not worried."

bella hums. "okay. but's it's fine if you are."

"i'm not. we're just friends."

anytime somebody would ask about your and quinn's seemingly suggestive relationship, they'd always look at you with disbelief when you'd tell them you're just friends. well, friends that suggestively cuddle, kiss and have sex...but friends nonetheless.

you met quinn in 2018 at a barbecue brock was hosting. you'd been friends with brock since you met at the coffee shop you'd worked at the year before—when you'd spilled his coffee all over the pick up counter right in front of him. oddly enough, he found you charming and the two of you became fast friends.

he quickly brought you into his hockey world, where you met many different people and athletes that soon became your extended friends. when brock introduced you to quinn right infront of the grill at said barbecue lunch, you'd just about died.

quinn was cute in a dorky way, shying away from your strong eye-contact and smiley face. with his quick wit, nerdy tendencies and independence, quinn hughes was exactly your type, and it wasn't long until you two grew close.

your strong friendship eventually shifted into a more sensual relationship, and you found yourselves in a little dance that others know as friends with benefits.

and that worked for you both. not only did you get the fun, relaxed and sweet side of a best friend, but you also got that dirty, dominant and sexy side of a boyfriend. you both basked in the comfortability your arrangement brought, as well as the intimacy shared between you.

but then something shifted. you noticed that you started to really care about how you looked around quinn, and how you acted. you begin to care about how quinn perceived you and what he thought of you. you'd get nervous when he'd lean in for a kiss after a hard game, and when his touches would linger you'd get filled with butterflies. you liked him — you still do.

it's just that…you know you shouldn't feel this way, especially for a friend, regardless of the sexual relationship between you. so you pretend and suppress your feelings in fear of loosing quinn completely—-because you've become completely reliant upon the connection between you, and the thought of losing that is heartbreaking.

bella sighs gently, but knowingly, raising her glass back towards her painted lips. "for sure."

a chorus of cheers sounds all around you, and the sudden shift in energy has you looking back towards the door. you try and peer through the mini crowd, moving through the space around large bodies of athletes to see who's captured the rooms attention.

you catch sight of familiar floppy brown hair, followed by quinn's unmistakable smile. instantly you feel lighter, and the grin that makes its way onto your face is probably embarrassing.

there's a petite blonde girl next to him—with perfect skin and a blinding smile. she daintily wraps her hands around quinn's bicep, eyes wide as she introduces herself to jt miller and his wife.

and just as quickly your smile fades, eyes darting away from the unfolding scene in front of you. bella says your name gently—sympathetically—reaching towards you as she grazes your arm.

you gently shake her off, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm going to get a refill." you shake your half full champagne glass in the general direction of the kitchen, a wordless action that speaks a million words.

it's not that you're upset that quinn's seemingly brought a girl with him to this new year's party. you're upset that it's making you feel so distraught and heartbroken. you shuffle through the room, slinking through warm bodies and smiling faces until you're walking into the kitchen.

you try and keep your unshed tears at bay, breathing deeply as you top up your flute of alcohol. "fucks sake." you mumble to yourself, taking a hearty sip of your drink.

"you good?" the deep voice of elias pettersson has you jumping. the swede is leaning against the counter casually, sipping what looks like glass of white wine, eyeing you amusingly.

"I didn't know you were in here." you say, turning towards the blonde slowly.

he hums, swallowing the mouthful of wine. "quinn here?"

"yup." you nod, popping the p.

"ah yes." elias sighs, looking behind you as he peers into the crowded space. he finds quinn quickly, the captain ever so lively around his friends— he also sees the girl next to him. "he's brought a friend."

you snort. "yeah I know all about being his friend."

the assistant caption eyes you gently, a small sympathetic pull at his mouth. "sorry y/n/n."

you've always liked elias. he's similar to brock in the way they both speak their mind and never feel the need to sugar coat the truth, but elias is often more laid back and less judgmental than brock can be. a lot of the time you think if you weren't in love with quinn, you'd be with elias.

an idea pops into your head, turning your rather solemn expression into a scheming one. you look at elias with a smile, to which he raises his brows questionably. "actually, do you mind helping me with something?"

he squints curiously. "what?"

you walk up to him slowly, your grin unwavering. as you reach elias, you gently trail your fingers down his exposed arm, tracing your nails over one of his bulging veins. "just follow my lead."

—

quinn has looked at you twice in the past 40 minutes...twice. the first time was when you walked out of the kitchen, clutching elias's arm as you leaned into him. quinn's brows pulled together questionably, eyeing you and his teammates close proximity, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention, directing you both towards the heart of the home where the mingling was happening.

the second time was only 10 minutes ago. you'd been watching your friend from a distance, a scowl on your face as you watch that blonde girl whisper in quinn's ear, raised on her toes with a small hand cupped around his ear. quinn had caught your jealous gaze, sending you an irritated look.

you scoffed, quickly turning your attention back to bella and brock, standing only with them while elias was getting you another drink.

you've been pulling out all the stops in an attempt to gets quinn's attention. if you weren't laughing loudly at everything elias said, you were touching him seductively or dancing against him — all things to try and spark jealousy in quinn.

but if anything, it was making you feel even worse about the situation. the weird and heartbroken emotions running through you—combined with the alcohol you'd been continuously drinking throughout the night— has you needing a breather.

you excuse yourself from elias with a mumble about the bathroom, and you don't really hear his gentle response as you stumble away, slinking though the crowded miller home towards the stair case.

thankfully the lighting in the house is dim, so nobody notices you climbing up towards the second floor, barley keeping yourself in a straight line— too caught up in your own thoughts and emotions to focus on anything but.

the spare bedroom is the first room you stumble upon, quickly slipping inside the beautifully decorated space and letting the door click shut behind you. now finally by yourself with nothing but the bass of the music downstairs tickling your feet, you let yourself fall apart.

the tears don't come immediately, but the sobbing noise that leaves your chest is instant and intense. you clutch the pendant of your necklace, grounding yourself as your emotions come bubbling to the surface.

not only are you feeling heartbroken and hurt by your own feelings for quinn, but you're now also feeling guilty for attaching yourself to his teammate all night in some sad attempt at trying to ignite jealousy. usually you'd be more mature about a situation like this, but once again the champagne in your system has other plans.

you wipe your face, praying that your makeup look doesn't go completely down the drain and you still look somewhat presentable. you think it must be nearing midnight, and you're sure bella and brock are wondering where you've slipped away too.

you sigh reluctantly, sniffling away any lingering emotion as you make your way back towards the door. just before you can reach for the handle, it turns before you, the door swinging open to reveal quinn.

his face changes at the sight of you. there's a flash of relief on his face, like he'd been looking for you and has finally found you. but that expression quickly changes as quinn pushes himself into the bedroom, closing the door quickly. he looks irritated—the kind of expression you'd see if he gets asked a stupid question by a reporter.

he looks you up and down quickly, assessing you with an unfamiliar pull at his lips. quinn meets your uncertain gaze. "you fucking elias now?"

you blink in shock, mouth falling open like you're a fish out of water. "what?" you're practically seething, looking at quinn with a distant glare.

he scoffs. "I think you heard me."

his condescending tone has you feeling angry and worse of all, judged—quinn is in no place to judge you after he's brought somebody with him tonight. "what if I am?" you question, irritation clear in your voice. you take a step towards him, anger radiating off of you. "why do you care?"

quinn makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, wide eyed as he steps closer to you. "why do I care? are you being serious right now?"

"yes, quinn." you huff, crossing your arms roughly. "you can't storm in here and start grilling me about what i'm doing in my personal life, when you've brought someone with you tonight. or have you already forgotten about her as well?"

you're being petty, you're well aware of that—but the wrath and embarrassment running through your bloodstream has you not caring.

quinn eyes you again, stepping even closer to you—his movements laced with disbelief and annoyance. "if you're implying that i've forgotten about you…well that's just straight stupid."

you laugh in disbelief. "oh! so now i'm stupid?"

"no — what you're saying is stupid."

you scoff for what feels like the hundredth time this conversation. you don't even want to be arguing with quinn, especially when you're drunk and feeling heartbroken— the latter unbeknownst to him. you swallow gently, attempting to suppress the emotion creeping up your throat. "who is she?"

quinn shakes his head, his expression turning softer as he analyses you—sensing your shift in emotion and body language. "she's nobody."

"she's nobody but you brought her here? that doesn't make sense." your eyes flicker to the shaggy rug under your feet, blinking away unshed tears. you've passed the sheer anger you'd been feeling, left only with disappointment and sadness. "are you fucking her?"

quinn rubs his stubble roughly, and you can practically see the whirlwind of thoughts running through his head. his eyes find your yours, a hard expression in his face. "are you fucking elias? i'm still waiting for that answer. because you seemed pretty cozy with him since I got here."

"yeah," you nod roughly. "and that's no thanks to you, quinn. you haven't even come up to me tonight. god forbid you greet me—your friend—when there's a girl on your arm."

"were not just friends and you know it. so don't start that with me." quinn's tone is firm—warning—taking a step closer to your ridged body. he's now close enough to reach out and touch, and you so badly are craving that intimacy. but you hold back, keeping your expression as neutral as possible despite wanting to close the distance between you.

"oh, okay. what are we then quinn?" you question, your tone hard and determined. in a moment of vulnerability, your expression shifts, voice creaking with emotion. "because i'm so lost here."

quinn's eyes flicker across your flushed face. he's slightly breathless, watching you, like he can't keep his breathing steady. you hadn't even realized that you started to cry until he gently reaches towards you, thumb delicately wiping away the tears before they continue to fall. "fuck, i'm sorry." quinn's other hand runs over your head, flattening down your styled hair. "I hate seeing you upset—hey look at me."

you meet his gaze once again, tearing it away from your shoes. quinn looks extremely guilty and concerned— the latter due to your clear distress and sadness. "i'm such an idiot." he mumbles softly, "you can hit me if you want."

his words, so genuine and lighthearted, has a small splurge of giggles bubbling up your chest. you shake your head, "I don't want to hit you."

the ghost of a smile pulls at his mouth, and he nods once. quinn's thumb gently runs over your cheekbone, soothingly rubbing the high point of your rather warm face. "okay."

his words are so quiet and hushed it has you stomach swooping in a pleasant drop. quinn slowly leans down, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours—an affectionate nudge. you tilt your head farther back, allowing the most space for quinn to lean in and press his lips to yours.

it's a familiar and comforting pressure, your lips slotting together like they've done hundreds of times before. your arms uncross, falling limp at your sides as you let quinn hold your face, leading you in the steady exchange.

you sigh into his mouth, a breathy sound that has quinn deepening the kiss. his tongue easily slips past your parted, wet lips. instinctively your hands slip up quinn's chest, resting against his hard pecks. you gently grip the round muscle, nails digging into his flesh as you ground yourself.

your tongues move together slowly and gently—like there is all the time in the world. but, there's not all the time in the world, and you're still heartbroken and confused about everything. not just about tonight, but the entirety of your and quinn's arrangement.

you frown into the kiss, pulling away from quinn. his brows are pulled tight, eyes pinched shut as he collects his breathing—recovering from the intimate moment.

"quinny." his nickname is spoke in a breathy whisper, brushing against his slick lips. the emotion is still clogging up your airway, pushing its way to the surface. "I can't do this anymore."

his eyes snap open, glazed with a mixture of lust from your previous exchange, and worry caused by your vulnerable statement. "can't do what?" quinn's breathes hopefully—nervously.

you swallow gently, allowing yourself to linger in the last bit of time and space where your secrets are kept secret. because after this, all your feelings and love for quinn will be exposed, and the chance of your heart snapping in half becomes much more real—much more terrifying. "I can't keep pretending I don't want more with you. all this time we've been engaging in this friends with benefits stuff, i've been trying my best to not give into the idea of having more. but the more we fuck around with each other—care for each other—the more my feelings grow."

you sniffle, looking up at quinn. you can't read the expression on his face, it's one you've never seen before. he doesn't make a move to speak, only looking at you with that soft warmth in his eyes. you continue gently, "and I don't know how much more of this I can take, quinny. i'm attracted to you in any and every way there is to be attracted to someone. and I know we promised one another this would never happen and-"

you're stopped as quinn brings you into his embrace, pulling you towards his chest while his arms wrap around you in a tight hug. your cheek rests between his pecks perfectly, and that combined with everything else has you breaking down again.

you let out a disgruntled sob, turning to hide your wet face in quinn's shirt.

"I know baby." quinn's voice is so quiet, spoken into your hairline before he presses a firm kiss against your head. "it's okay."

you shake your head against him. "i'm so sorry—i've ruined everything. i've ruined us."

he gently pushes you back, just enough so that he can look at you properly. you're sure you look like a hot mess with mascara tinted tears pooling under your eyes, and a runny nose, but you don't find yourself to care. all you can focus on is quinn’s gentle frown and the way he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

his hand lingers there, resting around the side of your neck, just above your gold necklace chain. "how have you ruined us?"

his question is so genuine, like he can't even think of a reason of why your confession would change the set arrangement between the two of you. you almost want to laugh—whether it's in embarrassment or disbelief...you're not too sure.

"because you don't want me like that." not only is your timid response a stab in your gut, but it's also a stab in quinn's.

his thumb sweeps across your jawline, his gaze tender and determined. quinn's tongue darts between his teeth, gently wetting the plump skin of his bottom lip. quinn's eyes sweep over your face, his thoughts running a million miles an hour. but then something shifts.

his expression turns into something more determined—more sure, and with a breathy sigh, he speaks. "I brought lyla here to try and make you jealous. which is super shitty of me, I know, but I didn't know how else to like navigate these feelings i've been having for you. especially because I thought they were unrequited."

oh.

you blink three times, trying to process the words that just left quinn's mouth. "huh?" you babble like a fish, mouth opening in surprise, shock, and above all relief.

the smile that grows on quinn's face is the cherry on top of everything, and the sight of his grin has you knowing that you heard him right. "I've never fucked her or anybody besides you since we started seeing each other."

"you haven't?"

he shakes his head. "no, and i'm sorry because they way I went about everything tonight was just awful." quinn's hands are so warm and steady against your skin, gently tickling your face as he continues to run his thumbs over your jaw.

"i'm not with elias." you admit. "when I saw you walk in with that girl, I wanted to make you jealous…and elias agreed to help me."

his smile widens at your confession, and he doesn't feel so guilty anymore. the same goes for you, and knowing that your love isn't as unrequited as you thought, you feel yourself finally cracking a real smile.

"are you mad at me?" you ask timidly, leaning into the round of quinn's palm.

he pauses in a dramatic faux thought, humming gently. "not even a little bit." quinn cracks, his smile making its way back onto his flushed face. quinn leans back into your space, lips brushing against yours in an almost kiss. "i'm like falling crazy in love with you."

his words are so quiet—so intimate—plump lips brushing against yours as he talks. it's almost ticklish, and the feeling makes you giggle, and you desperately try to squirm away.

quinn chases you, arms tightening around you as his lips find your jawline. he starts pressing chaste kisses against the bone, quickly trailing down your neck.

you sigh in pleasure, eyes flickering shut as you fall into the euphoric feeling. quinn continues his way down, pausing occasionally to suck your perfume flavoured skin into his mouth teasingly.

"say it back." you feel him smirk against you before he gently bites down on you playfully.

you squeal with laughter, continuing your attempt in escaping quinn’s teasing attack. this time, he lets you pull back, watching you with a fond smile.

"say what?" your attempt at faux innocence quickly falls on deaf ears, and quinn begins tickling your side. you laugh again, falling into his warm, familiar chest.

this feels like the relationship you've grown to love with quinn—this is exactly the dynamic you two have created and the reason you fell so easily in love with your friend.

you wrap your arms around quinn's neck, pushing up onto your tip toes so you're at eye level with him. your smile is subtle, but to quinn it's as promising as the world.

"I'm falling deeply and truly in love with you." you whisper, eyes flickering between quinn's.

he closes the gap between you again, connecting your lips in another passionate kiss. this time the exchange is more rushed—desperate—like you're both trying to pour years of suppressed feelings into this one kiss.

and as the sound of new years rumbles through the house, cheers and celebration from friends floating up the stairs and finding your ears— you know there's nowhere else you're supposed to be.

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

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Baby That’s What Friends Are For…| Luke Hughes (Headcanons)

summary: being friends with benefits with luke hughes (umich!luke x reader)

[word count] 1.7k

a/n: trying something a lil different so let me know what you think of the headconons — as well, lmk if you want to see headconons for ur fav hockey man 😛

🎵 I would, would you? by kelsea ballerini

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ღ fwb! luke hughes who is so obsessed with you—even if he keeps that secret hidden deep down. he remembers meeting you through his friend ethan, and instantly he became enamoured by you. you were the complete opposite of him—bubbly, outgoing, a lil ditzy, and extremely sweet. you had luke wanting to be more like you! which, if his friends knew that, they would be floored.

you found comfort in his calm persona and seemingly nonchalant attitude—you were drawn to him and you quickly became fast friends. hanging at parties and sitting together in the classes you had together—luke was always looking for you, and you for him.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who’s friendship with you soon turns more intimate, and everything between you shifts. after a night out with everyone at the local bar, you’re both just tipsy enough to feel care-free, but not drunk enough to loose awareness.

luke suggests you stay the night at the hockey house, up in his room with him. giggly and warm, you easily agree—which sends luke’s obsession into overdrive.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who almost died on the spot when you made the first move, watching through hazy hooded eyelids as he sat up against his headboard—eyeing you as you climb onto his lap, pressing your underwear covered core against his hardening length.

a hard on he’d desperately tried to hide before things escalated—one he couldn’t help after seeing your panties peeking out from underneath his oversized hockey shirt as you slipped into his bed—a dopey smile on your face.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who takes that as a signal, and leans in to connect your lips together. it’s messy, and heated and all together hot. he quickly shifts you, pushing your back into the mattress as he kisses you rough and hard—leaving you whining and withering against him.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who is totally focused on touching you—pleasing you—before he even thinks about himself. luke is drunk on your pussy, diving into you like his life depends on it—fuck, his life practically does. he goes and goes, licking and sucking your arousal until your cumming, twice, shuttering and grinding against his face like you can’t control your movements.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who practically whimpers the first time he pushes his length into your entrance—it’s better than he could’ve ever dreamed. the sound of your staggered gasps and mewls only push him further, slamming into you until his tip is brushing against your most sensitive areas. it’s ethereal.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who almost cums on the spot at the feeling of your nails digging into his growing biceps, gripping the strong muscles to ground yourself from his heavenly thrusts. your hands are all over him, feeling his muscles flex under the pads of your fingers. your walls flutter around his length instinctively, and it has him practically shaking—holding himself above you like he’s been doing it forever.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who wants you to cum first—wants to bask in the feeling of your gummy, warm walls spasming around his cock. the feeling of your orgasm has him stilling inside you, a low groan vibrating in his chest. his warm forehead and tousled curls fall into the crook of your neck, where he licks and sucks against your pulse point—feeling it jump under his tongue.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who cums inside you, painting your walls with his release after you’d begged him to. he knows he’s ruined for anybody else after finally being inside you—and you too are ruined for any man ever.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who after that first time having sex, becomes extremely protective over you—without meaning to, or being aware of it. during parties, he’s always tucked by your side, making sure you’re content and safe. he walks you from classes, and back to your place (if you’re not coming back to his for a late afternoon quickie).

and you eat it up—allowing luke to treat you like a princess outside of the bedroom, and treat you like a whore inside the bedroom.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who’s love language is physical touch—but only when it comes to you. in public, he’s constantly got his hands on you in some capacity, whether his fingers brush your hand, or his hand stays steady on your lower back while he guides you through campus.

nothing too possessive, because he knows he’s not your boyfriend—but he also wants any potential man that’s possibly looking for your affection, to get the hint. you’re his.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who also understands your love language is acts of service, and makes sure you feel seen and appreciated, even with the unspoken relationship between you.

not that luke minded doing things for you—scratch that, he loved it. he’d bring you flowers and snacks anytime he felt that you needed them (which ended up with him doing it all the time). he’d make sure your space was always clean if you didn’t have time to tidy the night before, and he’d always plug in your laptop if you’d forgotten to.

just taking care of you in general was luke’s forte.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who very quickly learns how to make you crumble under his finger tips, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you—leaving you shaking and gasping for air. he’s touched you like no other man has, and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who is such a freak, and thrives on the way it makes you squirm. if it wasn’t sending you dirty texts in front of all your friends, watching you blush and gulp as you take in the filthy words on your screen—it was the things he’d actually say, whispering into your ear while passing by.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who loves when you’re the one seeking him out for sex—nothing turns him on more than when you seek him out in a crowded room, arms wrapping around his hips with your chin resting between his pecks. blinking up at him slowly, your words whispered as you subtly hint about sneaking off.

and luke’s never going to say no—and you know that.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who stutters anytime someone asks what you two are. he’s never sure what to say—even though deep down he knows exactly what he wants to say. he blushes profusely, rubbing the back of his neck out of nervous habit. he claims you two are just messing around—good friends, but nobody buys that.

the same goes for when you’re both out—as simple as getting burgers late at night—and a worker mistakes you for a couple. luke doesn’t correct them, mostly because he doesn’t care to. and you don’t bother correcting them either.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who starts kissing you just because he wants to. if anything, he starts to prefer kissing you without the intent of going further, and sometimes all he wants is your lips in a fleet passing moment.

it’s started to become a natural thing between you. a kiss good morning and goodnight—as well as in hello and goodbye. during home games, luke would always find you in the tunnel, and press a kiss to your lips before continuing out to the ice. and as you delicately place your hands on his hips, pushing onto you toes to meet his height—a giddy smile blossoming on your face…well, luke’s never seen anything more beautiful.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who brings you your favourite coffee and/or tea when he doesn’t have an early class. he’ll stop at the local cafe, order and pay for your drink before making his way to wherever you are. whether you’re studying with friends in the library, or in class, or simply sitting in the cafeteria—he’s hand delivering that drink with a kiss to the side of your head.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who can’t help but smirk afterwards as he hears your friends and classmates coo and awe at the sight—telling you how amazing and cute your boyfriend is. his smirk deepens when you can only smile in response, mumbling your agreement.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who realizes he’s falling in love with you when ethan mentions how a couple guys on the team thought you were hot, and were asking around if you’re single.

even though luke knew he felt that way deep down, hearing that just solidified everything for him. you’re his girl—his best friend—and he doesn’t want anybody else to even think of you as anything but so.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who can’t hold in his feelings for you any longer, and as you lay in his bed, clad in his sweats after a long day of classes (and a trip to pound town bc you’re both horny teenagers), he gently says your name, pulling your attention from the movie playing on his laptop.

and as soon as your eyes lock and just spills—barley pausing to breathe as he confesses his love in a stuttering, flushed mess.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who’s words are cut off by your lips as you lean in and kiss him. it’s a bruising yet comforting pressure that has you both sighing pleasantly as your lips mold together like the perfect puzzle piece.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who’s breathless when you finally part, both your eyes fluttering open as you meet gazes once again. even though you’ve just kissed him, he’s panicked—worried he’s ruined everything with his confession.

but your thumb runs along his slick lip, and the gentle, warm smile that tugs at your mouth has his thoughts coming to a halt.

ღ fwb! luke hughes who has to pinch himself when you tell him you love him too. the shuttering breath that releases from him is almost embarrassing but he doesn’t even care.

he rushes to hug you, wrapping his arms around your body and tackling you to the bed. the sound of your gentle laughter is like music to his ears, filling the room with the angelic noises. luke presses quick kisses all over your face, too overwhelmed with love and joy to stay still.

ღ bf! luke hughes who just loves you so damn much.

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #luke hughes smut #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes headconons #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl headconons #hockey smut #hockey imagine

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cuteandhughesy · 3 months ago

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Tripping, Falling With No Safety Net | Matt Rempe (part 2)

summary: four weeks has passed since your adventure in the elevator, and you haven’t stopped thinking about the attractive stranger since then. just when you think you’ll never see him again, you run into matt in the most unattractive place.

[word count] 7.8k

a/n: the much requested and anticipated part 2 of no sex in the elevator! I hope I did this justice and you all enjoy the blooming story of matt and y/n :)

🎵 safety net by ariana grande (feat. ty dolla sign)

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you see matt rempe everywhere. okay, well no—not really. the physical, almost 7ft tall man who rocked your world on the carpet of an elevator almost two months ago was nowhere in sight…physically. but his name, well you see it and hear it everywhere.

the last name you've since become well aware of is sprawled across the back of jerseys—haunting you as you walk around new york—his name is heard on the tv at work, all your male co-workers raving over how much a savage matt rempe is.

if only they knew.

that night, which somehow feels like forever ago but simultaneously feels like yesterday, has yet to leave your head—or your body. matt practically destroyed you, splitting you in two with his length until it felt like you were going to cry. the hours trapped with him really had you feeling somewhat fond of giant man, and growing enamoured with his little quirks and giggles.

not only did you learn so much about him, but matt learned so much about you. but that evening, as the maintenance finally rescued you from the hot, sex smelling metal box, you were both in such a hassle that you forgot to exchange numbers.

you didn't realize the mistake until you finally got back to your apartment, nearing 3 in the morning, crawling into bed already dreading your morning shift—still fluttering between your legs—when it dawned on you. you have no way of contacting matt, and he has no way of reaching you.

you're just two strangers who fucked in an elevator.

although neither you or matt disclosed the full extent of your professions—you knew he worked in sports. but the shock you felt when you saw him in an nhl highlight reel, over your middle aged colleagues shoulder at work nonetheless, had your jaw dropping. I mean, you should've expected it just based on the muscles underneath his soft skin, and the stamina he displayed when he was pounding into—you need to calm down.

you went home that night and found him on instagram, sending him a DM before you could overthink the situation. you've started to catch feelings for him for fucks sake, you can't allow him to slip through you fingers that easily.

but you never got a response. I mean, with the amount of DMs a young, attractive professional athlete must receive, yours was bound to get lost in the abyss—but there was still a small part of you that has hope. but that hope was started to get crushed when you were meet with radio silence for weeks.

almost 4 weeks to be exact, which in hindsight isn't that long, but when the only thing you can think about or focus on is seeing matt, or talking to him one more time—4 weeks feels like a lifetime.

4 weeks of pent up sexual frustration stemming from matt damn rempe. worst of all, not even your fingers or shitty bullet vibrator are doing the trick—you can't even make yourself cum because he’s ruined you for life.

which brings you to now, 7 p.m on a thursday night. the soft blanket strewn loosely across your bed rubs your shoulder blades soothingly as you shuffle around, brows furrowed in concentration as you slide the slick, gray vibrator through your folds.

your jaw goes slack as you bump your clit, your back arching of your bed as your nerves ignite. the humming vibrations tickle your core just right, and you're getting increasingly more wet and slippery as you hold the bullet to yourself. you're not close yet, but it feels good enough—which seems to be the new motto of your lacking sex life: good enough. a breathless sigh escapes you, legs spreading impossibly wider as your body naturally searches for more—for him.

the vibrator stutters oddly, and your eyes widen at the feeling. pushing yourself up onto your elbow, you eye the slick device. it stutters again, more frantically this time before completely quitting. you whine, body falling back in defeat. you feel like you could cry, removing the device from your folds and hastily plugging it into its charger.

it's a long shot, considering you just took it off the charger, but maybe it's battery life has decreased since you purchased the toy—in fucking college. you pump your fingers in and out of your dripping entrance while you wait, but it does nothing to soothe the burning in your loins. much like you suspected, the vibrator isn't charging. it's completely dead. garbage.

"stupid piece of shit." you roll your eyes and toss it across your bedroom. it hits the lipgloss you left on your vanity before falling into the trashcan—along with the brand new tube of rhode lipgloss still in the box. you're too horny to even worry about that right now, so you get off your bed and slip on the pair of sweatpants you'd discarded the night before.

you're feeling flushed, and the white tank top you’re wearing is doing nothing but sticking to your dewy skin uncomfortably. throwing on a zip up is the last thing you want to do, but walking to the drug store in just a tank top will have you regretting not wearing one—so here you are. just before you walk out of your apartment, you grab a pair of oversized sunglasses. the last thing you need right now is getting caught by a co-worker or a friend while trying to buy a new vibrator.

as soon as you step into the pharmacy, you slip the glasses down, shielding yourself from the fluorescent lights. you make a beeline to the hygiene aisle, darting past the tampons and adult diapers until you're at the correct section. you’re so horny and determined you can’t even care how crazy you look.

"okay," you sigh, peering through the options on the middle shelf in front of you. there's more options that you were expecting, and it's making your brain go a little fuzzy. it doesn't help that you can feel your arousal dripping down your inner thigh—but you digress.

you opt for a new version of what you already had, your nimble fingers grabbing it off the shelf and quickly tucking it against your chest. you let out a breath of what feels like relief, turning on your heels and walking out of the long aisle.

about a mater away, lingering at the end of aisle 8, thumbing through body wash, stands matt rempe. your steps falter, and your stomach swoops with something you can't decipher—whether it's excitement or nerves, you’re too shocked to tell. your face pales and flushes all at once, and the grip you have on the sex toy box tightens.

matt hasn't seen you, so before he has the chance to, you turn around and dart back into the aisle. you’re fumbling, bumping into the shelf of tylenol beside the pregnancy tests, and you curse as some of the medicine clatters and falls to the ground. you can feel him moving—your body igniting like a magnet.

"shit." you curse hurriedly, gathering the medicine off the floor and hazardly throwing the bottles back onto random shelves—you’re pretty sure one even ends up with the ultra thin condoms. out of the corner of your eye you see a large pair of sneakers walk by the aisle—matt walk by the aisle. you freeze, breathing catching and hands stilling on a bottle of extra strength.

but matt doesn't stop—oh fuck, never mind, he's doubled back. you've definitely been found, you think. you clear your throat in hopes to act natural, getting off your knees and placing another bottle of medicine back onto its proper shelf, attempting to appear small and nonexistent.

he slows to a stop right beside you, large frame towering over you and casting a shadow. but you don't look. instead you pretend to rifle through the shelves like you work there or something.

matt lets out a small breath of laughter, and the sound has your heart leaping. he reaches out towards you and plucks your sunglasses off your face. fuck, you think—he's got you know. slowly, your eyes flicker up to meet his familiar brown gaze. immediately your knees feel weak.

his lip quirks up in a smirk that makes you flush. "thought that was you." matt says casually, sliding the oversized glasses back into your hair, revealing even more of your blushed skin.

"it's me." you swallow.

you feel a bit dumbfounded. you can't decide if you want to turn heel and sprint out of the store, or sprint into matt rempe's arms. he looks so good, all cozy in a hoodie and matching sweats—light gray nonetheless. subconsciously your eyes trial down to matt's crotch, and yeah, you can see his dick print. your vagina clenches pathetically—it remembers the man in front of you all too well.

you tried so hard to get in contact with matt, hell you prayed for it. and now here he is, all 6 foot 9 inches of him. standing with you in front of the tylenol and condoms in a random new york drug store.

matt's smirk deepens, and a splash of pink dusts over his cheekbones. "it's you. hey." he's got one of the body washes in his hand, the same brand he'd been looking at when you spotted him—some old spice scent that probably smells like heaven. "how are you?"

it has you remembering what you've got in your arms, and your eyes widen comically. it’s no use because matt has already seen the vibrator, but he lets you panic anyways—smirk still on his face nonetheless—fumbling with the box until it's behind your back. "i'm okay."

he nods his head, amused. "I bet."

you blink, swallowing roughly as you tilt your neck back to look up at him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. you've spent so much time thinking about what you'd say to matt if you ever saw him again, and now he's here and your mind has gone blank. "I dmed you..." you start lightly, trailing off, taking a shaky breath. "on instagram. I didn't know your last name but my co-worker, dylan who's a total jerk by the way—he had highlight reels on and I saw you. on the ice. matt rempe."

you laugh breathily like you can't believe what's happening—because you truly can't believe what's happening. matt's heart flutters fondly at your rambling admission and the small laugh that bubbles from you. his brows shoot skyward in surprise.once he focuses on what you said, rather than how you looked when you said it. "wait, really?"

you nod pathetically.

he hums. "damn, I should check my messages more often, huh? i'm sorry, I had no fucking idea. If I did I would've..." matt trails off, tongue swiping along his bottom lip as his eyes dart over your face. slowly. your eyes are bright and lustful, cheeks pink with embarrassment and something else, and he can see your pale purple lace bra through your thin white tank top. "I would've answered."

your breath hitches, fingers tightening on the box still hidden behind your back. "oh."

he runs his free hand through his messy, damp hair. you wonder if he had an afternoon game today, and his hair is wet from his postgame shower. or maybe matt has started his shower at home and then was out of body wash—leaving him with no choice but to come here and get some. whatever it is, you're glad matt rempe is here.

and in some sick way, you're glad you decided to masturbate tonight, and even more so that your old, shitty vibrator died.

matt's smirk is back, and for a moment you’re back in that broken down elevator, starring at him through the haze of red light as he dares you to sit on his lap. matt’s eyes dart past your shoulder for a moment, "you need help with something?"

you just know he's referring to the sex toy you'd been trying to buy, and your skin burns so hot you feel like you could ignite in flames. hesitantly, and to honestly save yourself some dignity, you bring it back around to your front. you laugh dismissively, "it fell. actually, I was just putting it back." you shove the vibrator box between a rabbit toy and some lube.

matt's brows furrow, but his small amused grin doesn’t wavers. "no need to be embarrassed, y/n. i've been inside you, remember?"

you squawk like a parrot, looking around frantically to ensure nobody is in hearing distance. matt doesn't care though, and he picks the vibrator right back off the shelf and tucks it between his bicep and forearm.

"matt." you say, looking between his face and the sex toy nestled in his arm. "you really don't need to-"

"-I need to grab deodorant and some candy, come on." he interrupts, walking further down the aisle, vibrator in his grip. you blink once, then twice, and before you can register what you're doing, you're following him. matt slows his long strides as he hears your feet slapping against the tiles quickly to catch up, a fond grin on his soft face.

matt is itching to reach out and touch you in some way—he's missed you so much it's honestly embarrassing. you look so soft and warm, looking up at him all bright eyed and long lashes, following him blindly. matt has no excuse for being turned on…it’s simply just you that does it for him.

he comes to a stop in front of the deodorants, looking through the various brands. "so, were you just coming here to get this?" matt questions without looking at you, grabbing an irish spring aerosol. he smells it through the cap, and then puts it back.

"ummm, yeah." embarrassment is lacing your words, and you clear your throat once again. but matt doesn't seem bothered, picking up some name brand deodorant that apparently smells like fresh wood and the ocean.

"really? you loose your charger or something and have to buy a new one?" he asks, popping off the cap and taking a sniff. it actually smells like shit, not wood and ocean—matt puts the lid back on and slots it on the shelf.

the absurdity of it all makes you laugh gently. his seemingly casual demeanour is rubbing off on you, and although matt rempe is technically a stranger, he's also not. you run a hand through your hair, which is no doubt tangled from when you'd be rolling around in your bed trying to make yourself cum. "worse, actually."

"oh yeah?" he grins curiously.

you nod. "yeah, 30 minutes ago it literally broke down in the middle of using it. so here I am."

his eyes gloss over, and matt looks right at you, deodorant forgotten. "you were touching yourself 30 minutes ago?"

you nod again.

matt shudders out a breath, a small hushed curse following. his eyes quickly dart to your boobs because he can’t help himself, and then they travel further down, briefly landing on your covered pussy before he finds your face again. he can feel his dick twitch uncomfortably in his sweats. "you're killing me."

his admission is so quiet that you're not even sure if he meant to say it out loud. you swallow your anticipation, watching as matt hurriedly grabs an old spice deodorant without smelling it, adding it to the growing pile in his arm before looking back at you. "come back to my place, y/n."

your stomach swoops, and then a shaky please follows matt's words and you're nodding quickly—desperately. his grin widens, "okay, let's go. fuck the candy." and he's dead serious.

you giggle, and it has matt joining in. one of his large hands wraps around your waist, pulling you in front of his body as you begin to walk towards the checkout. "stay in front of me," matt mumbles, leaning down and brushing his lips against your ear. "i'm half hard and if you move everyone is going to know what’s going on.”

that gets you both moving, lining up in the check out lane to purchase the collection of items—and yes, matt buys you the vibrator. the teenage boy behind the cash eyes matt and the sex toy curiously, but matt doesn't seem bothered. if anything, he seems proud, wrapping his long arms around your waist and tugging you back against his semi.

matt's place is a bit farther than yours, and you know that because you could've walked to yours in the time it takes matt to drive to his. but you don't mind—how could you when the entire drive is filled with soft conversation, and matt's thumb rubbing your knee as he grips your thigh.

there's a unspoken tension on the ride up in the elevator that lingers between you and matthew, slinking between you both and reminding you of what happened last time you were in an elevator together. kissing, laughter, breathless moaning and lewd wet noises.

your vagina is fluttering again, and it doesn't help when matt steps closer to you, gently grabbing your face between his hands and tilting your head backwards—leaning down and kissing you.

his lips are as soft as you remember, and they work yours just the way you want them too. your body is falling apart in his hands, swaying into his chest and sighing into his mouth. as you attempt to deepen the kiss and swipe your tongue along his bottom lip, the elevator doors slide open.

matt snickers when you whine, hands sliding down your body until he's grabbing at your hips. "c'mon."

matt's place is actually really fucking clean. it's a typical new york apartment, all white and modern with crisp furniture and counters that look so expensive you're scared to not use a coaster. there's small touches of matt throughout the space though. a framed photo of what looks like his family on a kitchen shelf, as well as snacks not yet put away but instead, left on the counter. it's all mostly healthy shit that makes you pull a face.

there's a few loose throw blankets on the couch and a fake plant on the coffee table. there's spare hockey sticks in the corner of the room next to a tall lamp—although you're sure if matt stood next to it, it would look miniature. there's shoes by the door, and coats on the chair. it smells like hockey puck and cologne, and matt must've left the tv on before he left, because you can hear madagascar playing.

you've been gawking at his apartment long enough for matt to have already unpacked the drugstore bag—his deodorant, body wash and your fucking vibrator lined up on his counter.

he grins, balling up the fabric tote bag and shoving it in the cupboard beside the fridge. matt's dark eyes flicker to your form, still standing in the threshold between the kitchen and living space. "you look pretty in my apartment."

his voice has you blinking out of your unapologetic stare, looking over just as matt grabs your waist, gently bringing you into the kitchen and up against his torso. "just in your apartment?" you tease—you're too horny and too touch deprived to feel embarrassed any longer.

"everywhere." matt corrects himself, his words whispered in the minimal space left between you. his large hands slide down and over your ass, giving the flesh a firm squeeze before he's lifting you off the floor and sitting you down on the counter.

your breath hitches in surprise, but soon enough you feel yourself stop breathing completely—because now you're at the perfect level to be in proper eye contact with matt. instinctively your hands slide up his shoulders before wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. matt's eyes flicker down to your lips, and then in a blink he's kissing you again.

this kiss is slower and more messy than the chaste, hurried one in the elevator. it's like matt's taking his time with you, his hands alternating between sweeping up and down your spine and squeezing the flesh of your ass, each time pulling you closer to the edge of the countertop—closer to him.

you moan pathetically into the kiss, fingers carding through matt's hair and squeezing the roots firmly.

reluctantly, matt pulls away from the kiss, his lips all swollen and slick. you chase his mouth desperately, but he doesn't give in. matt sighs, the sound shaky and desperate as he takes his hand off your ass—instead placing it flat on the counter just next to your hips.

"matt," you pout, eyes flickering to his in a way that has his cock hardening. "please."

you don't have to say what you're begging for, because matt knows exactly what you want. he wants it to—he wants your warm, sweet walls squeezing around his length the same way they did a month ago. but he also wants you in every other way, not just sexual—which is a surprise to him too, trust me. "I know." he says, pecking the corner of your mouth quickly.

matt watches as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, only to snap back open when he pulls away. he continues, "but I missed you too much, and i'm fucking starving."

"what?" you blink.

quickly, matt's eyes darken until they're almost black. he reaches up to your face, taking your sunglasses off your head and placing them on the counter—next to a fruit bowl that's only full of bananas and oranges. your hair falls in your face, but matt tucks it behind your ear before you get the chance. his hand lingers on your face when he says, "first we're going to eat, maybe watch a movie and then im going to take this new vibrator and hold it against your pretty pussy until you cum. understand?"

your mouth falls open in what can only be shock. you nod dumbly, speechless as you digest matt's dirty words—anticipation bubbling low in your belly.

he kisses your cheek and then completely pulls away from you, turning around and opening the fridge. "what do you want to eat? i've got stuff to make pasta if you want that."

you're gripping the edge of the counter so hard that you're knuckles are turning white, looking at matt's back as he stifles through his fridge. you blink again, still feeling the aftershocks of the shock that you have from matt's filthy promise. "what?" you finally speak.

it makes matt pause, looking back at you over his broad shoulder. your expression has him flattering, "are you okay?"

your brows furrow. "am I okay? no, i'm so wet it’s not even funny. god, you've turned me into a slut, matt. i'm fucking banging one out every night because of you and what you did to me in that elevator....and you want to cook for me? also yeah, I love pasta."

his lips tug in a smile at your pathetic, whiny tone. you're not actually mad, that much is seeable. sure, you're confused and so horny it's not even laughable, but matt wanting to cook for you....it just turns you on even further. there was a part of you that was worried he'd only want sex again, and as much as you hated to admit that, it would've crushed you.

you'd never had more fun or felt more comfortable than you had with matt in that broken down elevator. when you ran into him again tonight, all those feelings came rushing back, and if he only wanted to fuck you and kick you out, you don't think you would've recovered.

but here he is, all tall and handsome with ground beef in his hand, looking at you softly with an amused smirk. "I haven't seen you in a month and I didn't think i'd ever see you again. so yeah, I wanna talk for a bit before I get you naked, y/n. I missed your voice and snarky comments too much."

you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. his words providing the relief and conformation you were hoping for. "I missed your voice too."

matt smiles then, a real smile that you can't help but mimic. he nods once, almost shyly, and tosses the ground beef on the counter—a firm smack echoing throughout the kitchen knook. "get over here so I can feel you up while I start this meat."

you laugh and slip of the counter, pushing yourself next to matt and begin help him start making dinner. and like promised, matt smacks your ass appreciatively.

you hadn't realized how hungry you'd become until the smell of seasoned meat sauce hits your senses. when you got home from work you hadn't even eaten anything, too pent up with sexual frustration to do anything but strip your pants off and get to business.

you're stirring the curly noodles in the boiling water when matt's soft voice filters through the kitchen. "you know after you and I were rescued in that elevator…I realized I forgot to ask for you number when I was halfway home—I made my cab driver turn aorund and take me back. there was a part of me that was hoping you were still there for whatever reason, but you weren't. I was so mad at myself."

you frown gently, looking up at matt. his brows are furrowed as he drags a wooden spatula through the sauce, still bubbling on the stove next to you. you clear your throat, "I remembered when I got in bed that night, and I was so angry at myself for forgetting. I thought id never see you again—but when I saw you on tv, all sexy and famous, I had a feeling that I'd run into you again. somewhere...somehow."

he meets your eyes, and in the most deadpanned voice he mumbles, "i'm so glad I was out of body wash." you smile, and matt presses a loud kiss to your temple, making your grin grow.

once dinner is finished and plated, matt chooses to sit next to rather than across, and that really shouldn't melt your heart as much as it does. light conversation and flirtatious glances are exchanged between chews and swallows, making the coil in your stomach clench and throb pathetically.

matt begins talking about his last game, and about the fight he'd been in—which explains the small split on his eyebrow that you noticed when you were sitting on the counter top. it makes you think back to when you first saw matt on your collages computer screen. you finish your bite of pasta, "my co-workers called you a savage."

he snickers, eyes twinkling with amusement as he swallows his mouthful of food. "did you tell them that you know me?"

"no." you breathe a laugh, stabbing some noodles onto your fork. "then i'd have to tell them how I know you." matt's brows quirk in further curiosity while you take the pasta off the utensil, chewing it quickly before continuing. "my one co-worker, the one I mentioned earlier, he has some weird hard on for me, so I don't think he'd appreciate me talking about his favourite athlete pounding my shit."

it doesn't make matt laugh like you expected. instead his gaze hardens and jaw ticks as he looks at you. "want me to punch him in the face? because I will." it's only after he says it, does matt allow his lips to slide upwards into a grin.

you snort, rolling your eyes with a fond smile. "no, matt oh my god. you're crazy."

he shrugs, taking another bite of food. "for you." matt mutters through a mouthful of curly saucy noodles, waggling his eyebrows in a playful manner.

you look away. "cheesy."

"but true."

"but cheesy." you reiterate softly, gaze flickering back to matt's.

he breathes and lets a beat pass. "...yeah." and when matt's eyes flicker down to your mouth and his hand runs up your leg, your face falls—looking at matt with a soft, yet hopeful expression. your own eyes fall down to matt's lips, watching his tongue slide along his bottom lip to moisten the plump skin. you blink and he's leaning in—slowly—to not startle you.

you put down your fork, the sound a small clink against the ceramic plate—echoing in your ears. matt had already put down his utensil, you note, because both hands are on your face in an instant. despite his grip on you, he doesn't bring you in for a kiss, but rather meets your mouth exactly where it is.

he taste like pasta and the strawberries he'd been sneaking when you were making dinner—and you taste the same, because he'd been feeding you the fruit like some kind of hallmark boyfriend. you moan into his mouth, and matt's long fingers slide through your hair smoothly, eliciting another breathy sigh from you.

you've turned into complete pudding, and he knows it too. the way you let matt move your face and touch your body—the sighs and groans passing through your mouth—they're all tell tale signs. an after dinner movie is long forgotten as matt lifts you up and off the small kitchen chair, back into his strong arms. your thighs tighten around his torso, and your arms wrap further around his neck as matt brings you back to the kitchen counter-top, sitting you on the surface like he did almost an hour ago.

the kiss never stops, and if anything it deepens. there's more heart and passion in this kiss—you need him and he needs you, and your mouths are doing a good job at telling that.

"what were you thinking about? when you were touching yourself?" matt barley pulls back from the kiss as he asks, lips brushing over yours slipperily.

you moan loudly, too loudly for simply just dry humping and dirty questions. "you." you admit breathlessly, your control and filter out the window. "was thinking about you."

matt doesn't answer, but instead leans back in and resumes the kiss. this time it's more messy and hurried—clashing teeth and tongues like they're in competition. his hands slide down your back, pass the elastic waistband of your sweats and over your ass.

matt groans when he realizes you're not wearing panties and that it's only your smooth, soft skin under his calloused palms. he squeezes your ass firmly, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. "lift your hips."

you do without question, and matt takes the opportunity to pull your sweat pants down, all the way down your thighs, past your knees and over your ankles. matt's jaw goes slack at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy—the pussy he hasn't stopped thinking about for a month.

you're so wet it's not even funny. you can't help it, you've been turned on since before you got home from work—an interrupted solo sesh combined with matt's filthy words and kisses have you feeling on the verge of combustion.

his eyes finds yours again. "you're so fucking beautiful." he spreads your legs further apart with his hands, manoeuvring your limbs until you're perfectly exposed and positioned—exactly how matt wants you. the counter is cold under your feet and ass, but you don't care. all you can focus on is matt as he reaches behind you, grabbing the vibrator box and ripping it open.

your breath hitches and matt smirks. you swallow roughly, walls fluttering around nothing as his long fingers pull the toy out of the plastic holder. "matt...please, I need it so bad."

"take your shirt off." matt demands, ignoring your whiny pleas and pouty lips. he watches through hooded lids, toying with the bullet between his fingers as you lift your tank top off, revealing the pale purple lace bra he'd seen peeking through your shirt earlier. he falters slightly, groaning at the sight of your nipples pebbled under the lace. "I thought the animal print bra killed me...but this one? fuck."

your hips jerk, buts matt's quicker, pushing you back to the counter with one hand—while the other flicks the vibrator to life. the sound of rhythmic buzzing fills the room, and your pussy recognizes the sound and begins fucking dripping. "tell me you want it."

this matt is different from the one in the elevator. he's more sure—more dominant. and maybe it's because you're too wound up to form proper sentences, but unlike the time in the elevator, you're speechless. no quips or remarks, only pure burning need. you're submitting, and it's so hot.

you nod dumbly, pushing up onto the tips of your fingers so you can nudge your nose along matt's. he presses a chaste kiss to your puffy lips simply because he can't help it, and then he smirks when it makes you whine.

"I want it." you mumble, "I want you to touch me. with the vibrator...push it through my folds and hold it on my—oh fuck." you're interrupted as matt does exactly what you need, running the expanse of the toy up your slippery lips and finding your puffy, needy clit.

you mewl loudly, arms giving out underneath you and leaving you no choice but to fall back on your elbows.

"that's it, fuck, that's my girl." matt praises softly, running the vibrator up and down your folds. the feeling is heavenly, leaving your walls clamping and fluttering as your juices spill out your entrance.

"matt." you say his name helplessly. you're close, and you've been close for hours.

he hums, licking his lips. "I know baby, let me just have a taste." matt doesn't wait for your response before he’s dropping down to his knee. he keeps the vibrator solely on your throbbing clit, and like the kind, sweet, perfect man he is, thrusts his tongue into your entrance.

you moan loudly. "oh my god! don't stop."

and he couldn't even if he wanted to. you taste delicious, and matt's lapping at your juices like he can't get enough. the way he's got you spread open with his free hand on your inner thigh, combined with the vibrations on your clit and the feeling of his smooth tongue dipping in and out of your hole has you snapping.

"i'm cumming." you moan, your body tensing as your orgasm flushes through your nerves and muscles. matt doesn't slow his pace, fucking you through the high of your climax like a starved man.

you sigh loudly, falling back against the counter top as your body goes limp. it's only then that matt takes the vibrator off your clit, his tongue slowing in thrusts as your walls clamping dies down. he kneads and squeezes your thighs comfortingly, hushed praises falling from his slack jaw as you come back to reality.

"you okay?" matt questions softly, rising back to his full height. he helps you sit back up, and your arousal is cold against your skin—but your body is still hot and desperate for more.

you nod quickly, hands dipping beneath the hem of matt's shirt and feeling up his abs. his muscles contract and jump under your touch, and when you pass over his pecks—graze his nipples—he curses lowly. "I wanna suck your cock, matty."

one hand drops down, brushing over his hardening length beneath his gray sweats. matt's lashes flutter against his cheeks, a rough groan vibrating through his chest. "oh fuck—another time baby, I need to feel your pussy."

and who are you to object that?

matt's grabbing you again, wrapping you around his torso like you’re a koala and blindly walking you over to the sofa. you giggle happily into his warm neck, pressing a few lingering kisses against his pulse point that make his dick twitch—poking your ass.

he sits down with you on his lap, and matt is instantly attaching his lips to your jaw—kissing, nipping and sucking along you skin. automatically your head tilts, giving him the access he needs to continue a path down your neck. his hands are all over you—grabbing the meat of your ass, squeezing your waist and brushing your tits.

you're grinding against his clothed core pathetically, soaking his sweatpants like you're in heat. "you're wearing too many clothes," you breathe, already tugging on the hem of matt's hoodie. he leans back, watching with a soft smile and lazy eyes. he nods leisurely and you pull off his hoodie, revealing the expanse of soft, smooth skin and muscles that is matt rempe's torso.

you grin happily, squeezing his biceps and then his shoulders. you take your lip into your mouth, shamelessly letting your eyes wander his body. it's makes matt chuckle lowly, "forgot what I looked like?" he teases, brushing your wild hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears.

you shake your head. "mhmm, could never forget." you lick your bottom lip, meeting matt's eyes. "was just admiring."

matt's pupils dilate and then his gaze turns dark. he leans into you, kissing you roughly, one of his large hands sprawled across your neck. you didn't think that any kiss would ever beat the ones matt gave you in that broken down elevator, but here he is now, outdoing himself.

"what do you want?" matt asks you, licking into your mouth once more before you can answer.

"what do you want?" you parrot, pushing your needy core down against his.

he groans loudly, slapping your ass quickly—so quickly you don't even have time to react properly before he's speaking again. "no, it doesn't matter what I want right now. i've been replaying everything you said in that elevator for a month. every. single. thing. fuck, you've been making me hard for a damn month without even being here. I've been dreaming of pleasing you...touching you. so once again, what do you want, y/n?"

your heart jumps, and your hips still against his momentarily. you think matt must be trying to kill you with words, because it feels like you're about to die. he says your name again, spoke quietly into your neck as he licks a strip up your skin. you gasp, hands flying to matt's hair.

you're breathless and fidgety, but still you manage to say — "I want to ride you." he curses shakily, and he thrusts his hips upwards, sending you crashing into his chest. you laugh, wrapping around matt like its second nature as he uses the leverage to pull his sweats and boxers down to rest just above his knees.

as soon as matt sits back down against the cushions, you're moving, reaching behind yourself and sliding your hand down matt's hard, warm length. you feel the two prominent veins against your palm, teasing you more than they have in the past month. you both sigh at the feeling of you slowly jerking his cock in your hand, teasing his throbbing slit with a swipe of your thumb.

matt tugs your bra down, revealing your heavy chest. "missed these." he says, already fondling your boobs with his hands, attaching his mouth to one puffy nipple. your body rolls instinctively, and matt's cock nestles hot and heavy between your ass cheeks.

"yeah?" you question knowingly—teasingly—lifting your hips just enough to guide the head of matt's cock close to your entrance. you're dripping again, so wet that it feels impossible to even breathe.

matter releases your nipple with one more sloppy kiss. "fuck yeah." his hands find your hips, lifting you higher to allow his dick to perfectly prod your hole. your breath hitches, hands falling to matt's broad shoulders to steady your legs—which have already started to tremble.

the head of his tip slips inside you comfortably, and your walls begin clamping in an attempt to suck him in deeper. you whine, trying to grind down, but matt's hands tighten on your hips—stopping you. "go slow, baby. you're shaking."

"shaking with need." you retort playfully. yet you're out of breath, small hands digging into matt’s trapezius muscle as you attempt to calm your eager, adrenaline filled body.

he gives you a teasing but knowing glance before he's helping you onto his length. slowly and inch by inch he fills your needy pussy, stretching you like putty. he's more endowed than you remember—thicker and longer. you gasp, stilling halfway down his length. "you're so big. I don't know if it'll fit."

matt pouts, although you're pretty sure it's condescending. his hands squeeze the meat of your hips again, a momentary distraction from the fullness between your legs. "it fit before baby, you can do it."

you mewl like a cat at his words. this time matt lets you sink down the rest of the way, going at your own pace as you take the rest of his length. he shutters, "that's my girl." then presses a kiss to your shoulder.

you've completely taken him, clit hitting matt's pelvic bone as your walls reach the base of his cock. matt's balls twitch against you, and you've never felt more stuffed in your life. "oh my god I think I can feel you in my stomach."

matt moans, fingers flexing on your body. "yeah? shit baby."

you sigh dreamily, and slowly begin lifting back off his member, rising only half way before sinking back down. matt curses, hands firmly sliding down to your ass and giving it one quick smack. you whine, picking up the speed of your movements just enough to have your toes clenching.

"just like that." he mutters, leaning in and sucking the pulse point on your neck. his nose nudges your skin, and he inhales, moaning at your sickly sweet scent. "you smell so good." matt grunts, nipping your skin—it stings but it's also delicious.

"today, before I even saw you, I knew you were there. I could smell your fucking perfume—that floral scent i've been longing for."

you moan, picking up your speed further. "oh my god!" your legs are starting to burn, and they've begun to shake more intensely. it has your movements faltering slightly, quick bursts of air leaving you as you try and control your breathing.

you go for another minute, desperate to try and reach your climax. your fingers dig into matt's chest and arms hard, leaving small crescent moon indents along his skin. your pout comes in full force, a tired and disappointed cry leaving your parted lips. “I can't-ugh, I can't do it."

matt knew it was only a matter of time before you became exhausted, and he's honestly surprised you lasted the 5 minutes you did. he can feel your walls squeezing and fluttering around his painfully hard cock—a sign that you're close.

he coos, scooping around the backs of your thighs so you're completely held up by his hands. "you tired baby?"

"mhmm." you whine, tears beginning to prick the edges of your eyes. you're so frustrated and horny, and all you've been thinking about for the past month is jumping on matt rempe's cock, and you're too fucking weak to do it.

reassuringly, matt kisses you—firm and sweet. "that's okay, baby. I'll help you." with that, he begins moving you on his cock, slowly at first. "you've been such a good girl, y/n—fuck." soon enough you're back at the perfect rhythm, matt's cock hitting the spongy spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

the springs in the couch are squeaking relentlessly as matt thrusts up into you, making everything feel that much more erotic and satisfying. you slump against matt's chest, "oh my—yes." the coil in your stomach is on the verge of snapping, and matt can feel it. the way you're nothing but a whining, borderline sobbing mess—walls squeezing him rhythmically.

"you feel so fucking perfect." he grunts, thrusts increasing to an unfathomable speed as his own release approaches. one of his hands leaves your leg and comes around to your front, swiping along your neglected clit. "my little slut to ruin."

"oh shit." you shout, body freezing as your orgasm hits you at full force. the feeling of your body cumming around matt's length as him reaching his own peak, and he pulls from your warm, gooey walls. he pumps his dick three times before his load spews over your stomach, painting your skin with his cum—all while his other hand rubs your clit softly as you come down from your high.

matt's moans are like music to your ears—little breathless gasps and deep rumbling groans in his chest.your take your bottom lip between your teeth, looking down at the mess sprayed over your belly. before you can decide against it, two of your small fingers swipe over the cum, collecting it on your digits before bringing them up to your mouth and sucking it clean off.

matt watches the entire thing, breathless and jaw slack. you smirk around your fingers as his lip begins quirking up, and before you can blink, matt pulls your hand away from your mouth and kisses you.

you giggle into it, wrapping your arms around matt's neck as his lips caress yours. his hands slide up your back tenderly, pressing against your spine firmly and rhythmically—hitting your pressure points and making you melt.

his fingers slide up the base of your neck and into your hair, threading your locks through his fingers and giving them a firm tug. for a moment you're back in the elevator, matt untangling rings from your messy hair. who would've thought it would've lead to the best sex of your life.

matt smiles against your mouth before pulling away. "i'm getting your number this time." his voice and face is full of determination and love. he grabs your hand and kisses the back of it, eyes never leaving yours.

"I'd hope so." you grin.

and when matt guides you into the shower, where you blow him and then he takes you from behind—treating you to another orgasm, you don't think you ever want to leave.

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe fanfic #matt rempe fic #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x y/n #matt rempe smut #matt rempe x you #matt rempe fluff #matt rempe fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey fic #new york rangers imagine

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

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I’m Talking Nonsense | Mikko Rantanen

summary: everyone in the avalanche social media room knows that getting mikko rantanen to participate in content was a lost cause—that is until you showed up.

[word count] 4.3k

a/n: okay…so obviously I started writing this before the trade—because nobody in their right mind was expecting mikko to get traded. but I digress, anyways! I originally wanted to post this on valentine’s day but in this moment of sadness, I knew all the mikko girls (myself included) needed this pick me up ❤️ to all you liking my old mikko fic—I see yall and we got this.

🎵 nonsense by sabrina carpenter

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mikko rantanen didn't hate social media — actually, no he did hate it. the finnish native always knew it to be invasive and impersonal, and he'd rather not have to look at fake happy, posed pictures and videos that make his life feel less than. and that's coming for a guy living as a professional athlete.

so when tiktok started gaining more traction and other nhl teams were making accounts for their respective teams—mikko was dreading it. he thought there was a level of privacy that should be respected, and having a camera shoved in your face is totally breaching boundaries. the thought of the avalanche making an account was just not something he wanted.

after a shitty practice—hell even a good practice—the last thing he wanted was to be asked if he thought he could land a plane, or if he believes in aliens...mikko just wanted to go home.

and mikko understands that the social admin was simply doing their jobs, but he couldn't help but fill with irritation anytime they'd approach him with the phone and mini-microphone and/or question cup. it was the quickest way to piss him off.

it didn't help that the avalanche fans were always in the comments asking about his noticeable absence. they wanted to see more of their assistant captain outside of gruelling post-game interviews and game highlights—they wanted the real and fun side of mikko they very rarely had the chance of seeing.

but that didn't change mikko's opinion of social media—he'd avoid the admin team at any costs, especially when he saw that stupid tiktok phone and various props he knew he'd hate to use.

that is, until you showed up.

the first time mikko saw you—standing behind the usual admin suspects with a nervous gaze and fiddling hands—he didn't think much of it. sure, you were pretty, but mikko thinks a lot of girls are pretty.

but then as the months past and your surprisingly warm and bubbly personality began peeking through your hard exterior shell, mikko begin feeling intrigued. you are always smiling, even if someone is giving you a hard time—when he is giving you a hard time—and you're constantly trying to bond with the players. you remember who these athletes are at their core—human, which a lot of people in your job description seem to forget.

the team quickly grew fond of you, and when they saw it was you in the hallway with a cup of questions, or in their locker room with that stupid tiny microphone—the energy would shift. that's just how you are though—vibrant and welcoming, and the guys feed off that energy and turn into a fun group of giddy boys.

even nathan mackinnon, who was almost as turned off by social media as mikko, enjoyed your company, doing silly things for tiktok's he'd never even dreamed of.

it had mikko's own exterior beginning to crack. before he'd be more apprehensive to the idea of participating in social media trends he had no clue about, but you and your grin had him changing.

—

lina, your co-worker looks at you over the top of her laptop, analyzing your soft face as you work on your own computer—editing a tiktok that needed to go up today. you're left with very minimal time, as the avalanche practice finishes in 5 minutes. which means in 15 you both have to head down for some more content.

it's the third time in the past minute lina as looked at you—you can feel her eyes burning through the middle of your forehead. slowly, your eyes trial up and meet hers, a questioning pull to your furrowed eyebrows. "you okay?"

she huffs—not in annoyance or impatience, but rather curiosity. lina flicks her red hair over her shoulder, and then crosses her arms—her gaze never leaving yours. "i'm trying to figure out how you do it."

you're even more confused now. "do what?"

lina snorts like it's obvious. "you've been here five months, y/n. it's been five months of watching you work with the guys and more specifically, getting mikko to work with you."

your lips contort into a confused pout—any more confusion and your head will begin to pound. you're not sure what lina is trying to imply, because as far as you know all the guys on the avs are extremely good with you and have never given you a hard time—that's just how they are...right?

"mikko is great." you hum dismissively, your fingers resuming their place on your keyboard as you continue the code in your side bar to enable the audio change in the clip—attempting to remove ross' loud voice from the background so you can better hear cale's answer.

"that's the thing," lina starts, eyes full of amusement as she leans over the table. "he's really not."

you pause. "what?"

"before you showed up, mikko was always turning a blind eye to me and nick. if we even attempted to talk to him the way you do—well, it never ended how we wanted it to." her face contorts as if she's reliving it.

one of your brows raise in question. "did he like...sentence you to a guillotine or something?"

lina disapproves of your humorous tone, sending you daggers across the meeting room table. she shuts her laptop, resting her elbow atop the logo as she puts her chin in her palm. "ha ha."

satisfied with her pointed response, you get back to work. but, lina isn't done. "he hates this kind of stuff."

"no he doesn't," you retort quickly. "mikko seems happy when I have questions for him. in fact, yesterday he came over to me and asked for one—said something about how they 'make his day bright'" you mimic mikko's deep accent to the best of your abilities, but you sound more like a drowning troll rather than the 6"4 winger.

lina's eyes widen comically—she can't believe what's she's hearing. "anytime I even point the phone in his direction he scowls and walks away. so what are you doing to get him to cooperate?" she eyes you quizzically for a moment before a devious lightbulb goes off in her head, expression morphing into a playful, teasing one. "are you fucking him?"

you squeak, and your cheeks heat up to an undeniable level of embarrassment. "no!" and it's true—of course you're not sleeping with mikko.

she raises her hands in surrender, but her smile doesn't let up. "I wouldn't blame you if you were, y/n. he's hot—like stupid hot."

"okay," you huff, covering your burning cheeks with your hands. "maybe you should sleep with him then."

lina snorts. "trust me—if I could get near him I would."

"you know," you start, "I really don't think what you're saying is true. maybe mikko didn't like it in the past, but I think he's changed his option on the social media stuff."

she raises her brow—almost challengingly. "think so?"

"yup." you hum.

"let's test it, then." lina chimes. "today i'll go up to mikko first, and ill do exactly what you would do when approaching him. and when he sends me away—which he will—then you'll go up to him, and we'll see what happens."

it's tempting—mostly because you're certain there won't be a difference in the way mikko acts towards you then he does lina. sure, mikko isn't always the most sunshine and rainbows when it comes to his personality, but he's always been compliant with you.

so although he's broody and definitely not in love with the idea of having a camera in his face—you're sure he's not going to turn lina away.

"you're on."

it's not 5 minutes later you're both packing up your respective things, preparing to make your way down to the locker room where the guys are surly anticipating your and lina's arrival.

the room is bustling with people—half dressed hockey players and pressing reporters fill the locker room, which creates a slightly hectic environment—but you're used to it by now. so neither of you seem suspicious, you ask a few of the other avs players your selected questions for the day. questions you and lina had argued about for the entire morning—she thought most of them were stupid, you thought they were was hilarious.

plus, the reporters are still swarmed around mikko's stall—the finnish native standing in the middle with a deadpanned look on his face, barley listening to them as they ask the same repetitive questions as usual.

you and lina get some good content from ross colton and josh manson, both players giving you ridiculous and enthusiastic responses to the absurd questions you'd earlier shoved in the alumni silver cup.

lina's mischievous look is back as the sea of middle aged reporters move onto their next victim—cale makar—leaving mikko by his lonesome. "i'll be back." before you can react, she plucks the phone out of your hands, effortlessly making her way through the room until she's in front of mikko.

you strain your ears, but it's no use as the chatter in the locker room is too overpowering, and you're unable to hear lina or mikko. miles wood gives you an odd look—eyeing the way you stand ridged beside his stall, gnawing your thumb as you watch lina talk to the blonde winger—but you don’t notice.

it's only a moment before lina turns around, her grin even wider than it was before as she makes her way back towards you. "your turn." she chimes, thrusting the phone back in your palms.

"what happened?" you question.

lina raises one her brows, pushing you in the direction of mikko's stall. "he didn't want to answer anymore questions."

"okay," you draw. "so maybe I shouldn't go over there."

lina continues guiding you in his general direction. "no it's actually exactly why you should go over there."

you don't get to argue any further as you're suddenly right in front of mikko—almost too close, and if you take another step towards him you're thighs will bump his knees.

speaking of thighs—mikko's are on full display. the huge, muscle carved limbs spread wide as he manspreads in his stall. the expanse of smooth, hard skin making you feel flustered and suddenly intrigued. your eyes flicker upwards, finding the icy blue ones of mikko looking back at you.

you swallow, a heat rising to your cheeks. "hi, mikko."

"hi, y/n." he says your name playfully, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. "you okay?"

you nod too quickly and immediately curse yourself for acting so uncool. you've never been this nervous around any of the avs, especially not mikko, but lina's comments about his looks earlier are lingering in your mind—leaving you flustered.

because obviously you are aware mikko is hot, but now you can't help but be really aware of the fact. damn lina.

"yeah," you clear your throat, clutching the cellphone tightly in your hand. "I was actually just wondering if you'd answer a question for tiktok? for me? promise it'll be quick."

his eyes flicker over your warm, hopeful face, and after a beat he sighs gently, a quick nod following. "yeah I can do that for you."

you can't help the way your eyes widen at his agreement. mikko seems oblivious to your shocked state, removing his remaining elbow pad and tossing it towards the back of his messy stall.

you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, and even with the sweat lingering across his forehead and soaking his branded undershirt, mikko smells so good. he's always been enveloped in a cloud of clean laundry and something slightly woodsy, and even though you're extremely professional, it never fails to make you falter.

you clear your throat and your head. "really?"

mikko runs the damp towel previously hung around his neck through his messy curls, making the appearance of them even more fluffy and soft. his eyes twinkle with amusement, a matching half smile blossoming on his lips. "yeah, really. why do you sound shocked?"

you make a tiny noise of confusion in the back of your throat, shooting a glance to lina over your shoulder. she sends you a triumphant look, brow raised like she knew that she was right.

she is right.

you look back at mikko quickly, "I just thought..." you trail off, brows pulling tightly as you think about the excuse he gave to lina—you're so confused. you've never noticed before if mikko had a certain favouritism towards you over lina, or even nick. I mean, you never paid attention to anything like that—but now you feel like you should be more aware, because this doesn't make sense.

"you thought..?" mikko raises one eyebrow, waiting for the second half of your sentence.

"nothing." you blink quickly, adjusting the phone in your hand. "sorry, let's just get to it."

you're still in some sort of shock for the rest of the day—the pieces of the puzzle in your mind loose and turned upside down as you try and understand mikko's dismissal of lina, or better yet, his compliance with you.

it had you further trying to solve the mystery. does mikko just prefer you? does he like your voice over your co-workers? maybe you smell like his favourite desert? does he like you? does mikko want to fuck you?

you're not sure where to pinpoint the source, but you're also determined to find the answer. with some help for lina, and even a little input from nick, you conjure up a plan—which lina finds the upmost entertainment in.

but you mean nothing but business. for the next few weeks it's only you who works with mikko rantanen—it's you asking him questions and having him participate in stupid games. and without fail, every single time you ask him, mikko complies.

so you get crazier with it. whether it's a questions about my little pony—a show mikko has never even heard of—or having him lift you onto his shoulder while a sabrina carpenter song plays through the tiktok recording—he is participating without complaining.

every. single. time.

it has your good friends, but ever so annoying colleagues theorizing.

"maybe he's got a thing for girls with her hair colour? can't resist them." nick chimes, sipping some piping hot coffee from an avalanche branded mug.

you roll your eyes, pulling open the microwave to grab your shitty frozen meal.

lina's laugh echos through the staff room, "mhmm...or maybe her eye colour." she sends you a teasing look before slurping some saucy noddles up into her mouth.

before you can respond nick pipes up again, "he definitely wants in her pants."

you take a seat beside lina—across from your male coworker—and send them both a slightly amused, but deadpanned look. "are you guys done?"

despite your attitude towards them, you can't help but wonder if their theories are correct. sure, mikko seems sweet enough—towards you anyways—but with the way you're barley pushing him into participating in stupid little tiktok's, has you pondering. mikko is nice...but not that nice.

is he just trying to get into your pants? and then forgot about you? the thought has you feeling angry, because you're not just some girl who he can treat nicely until he gets what he wants—absolutely not. and you're not going to let him treat you like a fool, just because he wants his dick wet.

the following day you’re determined to get answers and put your mind at ease. you like mikko—he’s a great guy—but you don’t want to feel like you’re being used. there was a team meeting and breakfast today, without the pressure of practice or a game—essentially an off day for the guys.

as the chaos of the dining room begins clearing out, only a few lingering athletes and staff members at some of the tables, you make your way across the room with a determined step, looking for mikko.

you catch the broad expanse of his back and blonde hair sticking out from underneath his beanie just as he slips out the door. you grumble to yourself, speeding up in hopes to catch him before he leaves the facility.

pushing open the rather heavy door to the hallway, you’re immediately greeted by his familiar laugh and gabe landeskogs smooth voice—spewing some dad joke that only mikko would find funny.

before you can sike yourself out, you march up to the two european teammates. “rantanen, I need to talk to you.”

they pause in their slow steps, conversation halting abruptly as both men turn to look at you. the sight of your hard expression and pointed gaze has mikko swallowing roughly, eyeing you with confusion.

gabe snickers quietly, the sound missing your ears, and pats mikko’s shoulder sympathetically. “last name, huh? good luck.” with that the avalanche captain stalks off, disappearing down the quiet hallway.

you cross your arms defensively, looking up—way up—at him, tone rough and determined. “are you trying to fuck me or something?”

“whoa whoa, just hold on a second.” mikko’s eyes widen, looking around the hallways quickly to ensure you were alone. even though he doesn’t see any physical bodies, mikko can’t be too sure—especially when he can sense the conversation is going in a direction that doesn’t need to be overheard.

he gently takes ahold of your wrist, guiding you towards the open meeting room directly across from the kitchen. the censor lights flicker alive as you step into the empty, quiet room—illuminating the once dark space.

mikko lets go of your arm, shutting the door with a soft click before turning back to you. he analyzes your face, eyes flickering over your still pointed eyes and the angry pull to your mouth. confused, he steps towards you. “are you joking with me?”

you raise your brows. “do I look like i'm joking with you, mikko?”

he shakes his head gently, like he’s trying to come up with a reason for your sudden coldness—you’ve never acted this way around him, and seeing you so irritated is rather strange. “why are you asking me that?”

he’s referring to the first question you’d asked him—rather angrily may he add. mikko is unsure what brought on the rather sexual outburst of a question, only because it’s so unlike you. in fact, one time ross colton tried to make a sexual innuendo with you, and you just about turned the colour of a ripe apple.

mikko thinks he must’ve done something—or said something to make you not only think like that, but ask him about—without so much as a blush on your face. you were serious.

you cross your arms again, defensive walls still built high. clearing your throat, you look away from mikko and towards the navy blue patterned rug covering the floor. “ why are you so nice to me?”

you practically whisper, timidly running your foot along the worn out carpet.

mikko blinks. “what?” he’s even more confused now—because why wouldn’t he be nice to you. you’re sweet, and respectful, and funny, and beautiful, and you’re you.

you meet his eyes again, expect this time there’s more emotion swimming in them, and you’re slowly coming down of your flurry of anger—left with fear and your own confusion. “like..,” you start unsure, “you only do the media stuff when i'm the one asking you to. are you only being nice to me so that like, you'll get in my pants?”

you’re right, he thinks. he only does media when you ask, but it’s not because he suddenly wants to if you’re the one asking, it’s because he can’t say no to you. mikko never wants to see you sad—he never wants to see the current look on your face when he can help it.

mikko shakes his head, slow and steady. “no. that's not why i'm nice to you.”

“no?” you parrot, the tiniest hint of disbelief in your tone.

“no.” mikko repeats firmly. “i'm nice to you because I like you.”

“like as a friend?” you gulp, arms falling to your sides as you’re no longer strong enough to hold them around yourself.

mikko doesn’t see the point of hiding his true feelings any longer. the thought of you thinking he had ulterior motives with his kindness literally makes his stomach hurt, and he can’t have you believing he’s trying to use you for his own benefit.

so with a gentle sigh, he takes another step closer to you, eyes softening as he takes in your hesitant gaze and red cheeks. “more than a friend.” mikko admits gently.

your face falls, “oh.” you’re in some sort of shock, looking up at the winger with parted lips and wide eyes. the way mikko is looking at you, so raw and real, has any lingering hesitance falling away, and your expression quickly shifts.

“yeah, oh.” the corner of mikko’s plump lip slides upwards, the beginning stages of a lopsided smirk growing on his flushing face.

he reaches towards you, slowly, hands enveloping the sides of your head as he holds you in his palms. mikko’s hands are so warm and big, completely covering your cheeks and ears—the feeling itself has you turned on.

your breath hitches as mikko’s rough thumbs begin running over your cheekbones, stroking your warm skin absentmindedly.

his tongue licks along his bottom lip, moistening the skin slowly. mikko swallows gently, not once taking his gaze off your flustered face. “but like, just so there’s no confusion, I would eat you out on the table until you’re crying if that’s what you wanted.”

you inhale sharply, stomach dropping with excitement and adrenaline. your body flutters at his words, “mikko.” you whine in a whisper, hands reaching out and resting against his hard pecks. you have no control of your hands, the need to feel him under your palms too strong. you begin running over his covered chest, his muscles tightening and nipples hardening under your deliberate touches.

mikko huffs shakily before he comes down, kissing you with as much passion he can manage. his lips are surprisingly soft and smooth, enclosing and teasing yours in a messy, hard way. the feeling has your stomach swooping further, toes curling in your shoes as the kiss grows harder—needier.

suddenly, mikko’s hands run down your body, passing over your ass with a firm squeeze. you moan into his mouth as his hands find the backs of your thighs, picking you up.

you gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, sitting you on the table like it’s nothing—mikko smirks at the sound you make, and he can’t help the way his dick twitches in his pants. his wet lips trail off your mouth, travelling over your jaw and down your neck where he continues giving you hot, and hurried kisses.

reluctantly, your eyes flutter open, running a hand under mikko’s beanie, gripping the base of his hair between your trembling fingers. “we can get in a lot of trouble for this.” you breathe.

despite your words, your hips rolls against his hardening length, your cores at the perfect angle with you sitting on the table to grinding together deliciously.

mikko pulls back, eyes glazed with lust as he grins. “I know. so we'll just have to be sneaky.” his words are husky, sending your blood pumping and head swirling with need.

he leans back in, giving you another eye rolling kiss. you push his hat off his head completely, giving yourself free reign of his messy curls, tugging the blonde strands as your heart desires.

mikko pulls you closer on the tabletop, further bumping your clothed heat against his. his large hands slide underneath the back of your top, running over your spine and fiddling with the edge of your lacy bralette.

you sigh trembly, disconnecting the kiss. “i'll have to stop asking you questions though. because now I really won't be able to control myself around you.”

the admission has mikko smirking, biting his lip seductively. one of his hands round to your front, groping your tit over your bra. “I turn you on baby?” he already knew the answer to his question—your hardened nipples and shifting hips giving him all the information he needs.

you laugh through a breathless exhale, and you gently hit his shoulder. “be serious. you'll have to tolerate lina, and start saying yes when she asks you to do things.”

“no promises.” he chimes playfully, hands running back down your torso—leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you give him a soft, serene smile, which as mikko following suit—looking at you the way he always has. “I really like you, mikko.” you admit gently, one of your hands running over his building bicep before sliding around to rest on his shoulder blade.

for a moment, his smile remains admirable, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that has ever mattered. mikko has been dreaming of the day you say those words, and actually hearing you speak them is just otherworldly.

but because he’s a boy, and you’re his dream girl with his spit coating your plump lips—he can’t help himself. mikko’s hand rounds to your front, dipping underneath the waistband of your leggings and sliding over your underwear. he thumbs your clit over the thin material, and your mouth goes slack at his touch.

he breathes, smirking at the feeling of your arousal soaking through your panties. “yeah I can tell.”

“shut up.” you huff, pulling him back in to continue your desperate kiss.

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #mikko rantanen fic #mikko rantanen fanfic #mikko rantanen x reader #mikko rantanen imagine #mikko rantanen smut #nhl blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #hockey x reader #hockey imagine #hockey fic #colorado avalanche imagine #carolina hurricanes imagine

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

Text

No Sex In The Elevator | Matt Rempe (part 1)

summary: tension between you and attractive stranger grows as you end up trapped together in an elevator

[word count] 7.6k

a/n: loosely based off this request! @remperoni-melt and I got the same request, so to save you guys from reading really similar works, I switched the vibe of mine up a little bit 🤍 make sure you go check theirs out and give some love ! they are very talented and I definitely recommend their work! hope you enjoy my take on this request 😏

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you try your phone again, blinking roughly to clear your eyesight—still teetering on tipsy. the dead battery flashes back at you, illuminating your flushed skin in the dim elevator.

you sigh, shoving the small device back into your purse. as you'd been leaving your friends apartment—much later than you intended to by the way—you'd been practically falling asleep, the collection of sangria you'd been sipping on all night slowly catching up to you.

you knew heading over to your best friends place on a weeknight wasn't the best idea—especially when she enticed you over with dinner and a wine night. you worked the next day, and being hungover while trying to deal with customers at the bank was never a combination you wanted to endure, but against your better judgment, you were calling a taxi right outside after your shift, giving the driver directions to her place.

so now here you are, nearing 10 at night with a 6 a.m. shift on the horizon, pouting about your dead phone while being tipsy and alone in a fancy elevator—a fancy elevator for a building that only your new york lawyer best friend can afford.

you watch the numbers on the digital screen slowly tick down, bring you closer towards the apartment lobby. you sigh gently, running a hand through your blown out hair. your strands get caught around some of your rings, catching and pulling uncomfortably.

"fucks sake." you hiss, awkwardly trying to untangle your hair from around the metal jewelry.

the elevator comes to a gentle stop, and before you can even react, the shiny polished doors slide open. quickly, your eyes flicker towards the screen—have you reached the lobby already?

no, you've barley made it half way down, the shiny 27th floor staring back at you. you swallow gently—still very much caught in your own hair—eyes flickering towards the open elevator doors.

there's a guy there—a extremely tall, muscular, cute guy at that. he looks younger, maybe a few years younger than you, with a soft complexion and brown hair tucked underneath a baseball cap. he's dressed relatively comfortable in a branded gray hoodie, paired with light wash jeans and sneakers.

he sends you a quick nod in greeting, stepping into the roomy elevator. out of the corner of your eye, you watch him step towards the button panel underneath the digital screen, but after a moment, he steps back—he must also be heading to the lobby.

you swallow gently, your face heating up like it always tends to do in the presence of an attractive man—it doesn't help that your still caught in your own hair.

the doors slide closed, a gentle click echoing in the quiet space. despite the embarrassment crawling up your chest, your resume in trying to unwrap your hair, tiny breathless curses falling from your wine stained lips.

"you good over there?"

the question has you freezing, gaze flickering back towards the giant on your right. you're sure you look insane, and you're once styled hair has turned into a tangled wreck.

you blink. "i'm stuck."

"I can see that." he chuckles. "do you want help?"

"maybe"

he laughs again, a deep rumble that sends tingles down to your toes. he takes the few steps towards you, and you feel his fingers over top of yours, beginning to un wind your hair.

you let him take over, dropping your hand with a shaky sigh. you're only able to look into the soft material covering the strangers torso, trying your best to stay still has he manoeuvres your fingers.

"so," he starts, tone full of amusement—but yet concentration. "how'd this happen?"

you exhale deeply, letting your eyes flicker upwards towards his face—you're met with the underside of his soft jaw, littered in growing stubble. "I honestly don't even know."

"twirling your hair or something?" he pulls back just enough to look into your glossy coated eyes, a teasing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

somehow his clear comfortably has you breaking out of your timid shell, and you scoff a gentle laughter. "is that what you think girls do?"

the stranger laughs. "maybe drunk ones. are you drunk?"

"are you?"

"I wish." he chuckles. he tugs on a particularly tight strand of hair woven through your ring, and you hiss gently, jerking your head back—which only pulls at your scalp worse. "fuck, m'sorry..."

the man trails off expectantly, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

you sigh gently, "y/n."

"matt." he hums. "i've almost got it. don't move."

you sigh, definitely a little impatiently, but you don't find yourself caring—your arm is completely numb and tired, and your fingers feel swollen and you're ready to crash in bed.

finally you feel the hair detangle, falling back against your head it what no doubt will be a matted mess. you breathe an exaggerated sigh, shaking out your tingling limb. "thanks."

matt steps back, allowing you to once again look at him properly. "welcome."

there's a loud shriek that breaks through the elevator, similar to metal grinding on metal. you look around quickly, brows pulled in confusion.

matt's face mimics yours, and he glances at the digital screen quickly—the 16th floor indicator displayed begins to glitch.

"what the hell?" you question.

the elevator shifts wildly, the noise increasing like it was coming to a screeching halt. it's almost deafening, and it's definitely concerning. you grab onto the handlebars lining the metal box, clutching until your knuckles feel tight.

the dim lightning in the elevator flickers wildly for a moment before shutting completely off. there's a second of darkness before the red emergency light turns on, casting the inside of the elevator in a rose coloured glow.

you’re frozen, looking around the space anxiously. you watch though hooded eyes as matt quickly walks towards the panel, frantically pressing the call button. it's no use though, and the only sound that comes out of the tiny speaker is a loud buzzing noise—echoing in your ears.

"fuck." he curses, trying again.

you clear your throat. "is anyone there?"

matt shoots a quick, irritated glance over his shoulder in your direction, pausing his hard attack on the call button. "does it sound like anybodies there?"

"okay, well I don't know! you live here, you should know what this all means?" you say quickly—a mixture of stress and fear running through you.

"what makes you think I live here?" he questions. it seems for now he's giving up on pushing the useless button, turning back towards you with a frustrated pull to his eyebrows.

you laugh in disbelief, raising you arm before letting it fall back against your side in defeat. "great—so we both don't live here."

matt runs a hand over his face, another curse passing through his lips.

you drop the the floor, much less than graceful, shuffling back until your leaning against the cold metal wall. you cross your leg over the other, your pencil skirt tightening over your thighs. "what do we do?"

matt looks down at you, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "we will have to wait."

you groan, "and what if they don't know we're stuck in here? I can't be here long—I work in the morning."

"you think I want to be in here?" a breathes in disbelief, eyeing you roughly. he watches your face fall, blinking heavily before turning your face away. matt sighs, guilt lacing his face. "look," he starts gently, "this is a nice place—i'm sure it won't be long before they realize something is wrong."

you sniffle, eyes flickering back towards matt. "don't have to be so mean about it."

he laughs. "you're so drunk."

you shoot him a deadpanned, anger fuelled look—does he think you don't know that?

matt's hands shoot up in defensive, a gentle chuckle passing through his lips. you watch from the corner of your eye as matt moves towards you before inevitably sliding down the wall, taking a seat next to you.

his legs stretch out, extremely long but somehow not gangly—if anything, they're extremely well defined, and you can see that even through his jeans. as his leg grazes yours, you all but blush, subconsciously clenching your thighs together—screw your drunk brain for always being horny.

to distract your thoughts and all the butterfly feelings going on in your underwear, you clear your throat, glancing towards matt. "I may be a little tipsy."

"knew it." he chimes. "could smell the wine."

"oh god." you huff, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand—comically wide eyes still in matt's direction. "is it bad?"

he laughs gently at the sound of your frantic, muffled question. matt's eyes twinkle through the red casted light, shaking his head gently. "no, it's fine. you smell nice."

you bring your hand away from your mouth slowly, eyes squinting pointedly as you take in his words. "are you always this...friendly with strangers you meet in elevators?"

"only the ones who get their hair caught in their rings."

at the mention of that whole fiasco only a few minutes ago, your hand instinctively reaches up, brushing over the now frizzy side of your hair. "don't remind me."

he gently pushes your hands away from your hair, a boyish grin on his face. "alright leave it alone before you get stuck again."

"hey!" you laugh, "as long as you're here, i'm free to get as stuck as I want."

matt's brows raise suggestively. "that sounds like the start of a really bad porno."

you feel your skin flush, and you're clenching your legs together again. you practically squeak like a mouse, eyes glazed over with amusement (and a little lust but you hope he doesn't catch that). "are you even old enough to watch porn?"

one of his brows raise humorously, looking back at you like you've grown three heads. "how old do you think I am?"

you stutter, embarrassed. "I don't know! like 20?"

the side of his mouth shoots up in a grin. "22."

you hum thoughtfully. "you're young."

"are you like secretly 65 or something?" matt questions lightly. "how old are you?"

"you're never supposed to ask a girl her age, matt." you're not that much older than matt, but you're finding a lot of amusement in this teasing, cat and mouse game you're currently in with the handsome stranger.

he grins, head rolling away from you and towards the closed elevator doors. there's a few moments that pass, nothing but the silent hum of the broken down elevator between you.

matt shuffles, his jeans crinkling. "I spy..."

you look at him questionably. "huh?"

"we're playing I spy."

"oh," your brows raise, amused. "are we?"

he nods, continuing. "I spy with my little eye something that is red."

"everything is red."

that game only last about two more minutes, because like you've already told matt—everything is casted in the red light glow.

so matt quickly suggests other games to pass the time, and you're quickly finding yourself in a game of 21 questions—like you're damn teenagers.

honestly for somebody as attractive as matt, he seems to actually be a decent human being. which from your college experience of partying and messing around with frat boys who look like him...isn't common.

you watch him hum thoughtfully, going over questions in his head before he just spews one out. he's switched spots now, sitting across from you against the closed doors. you'd warned him when he first leaned against it—what if they opened and he fell?

but he didn't seem bothered, telling you the worst that would happen is falling backwards into a random apartment hallway.

"okay," he starts, "what's the worst date you've ever been on?"

the answer comes easily, and you cross your arms over your white linen button up—your gray blazer not long abandoned. "when I was in college, this guys from my psych class asked me out, and I said yes. he was on the football team and he was cute enough...so what could go wrong."

"a football dude? yikes." matt hisses, shaking his head in displeasure.

"anyways, he picked me up in his buddies car and the date was a suprise—so I had no idea where we were going, so understandably I was nervous." you take a small breath, already shuttering at the memory. "the night before he asked me what my favourite food was, and I said sushi. so I should've known he was going to bring me to a seafood place." your expression shifts, "but he'd never had seafood before."

matt groans, already sensing something wrong with the expression on your face. "oh god, I already hate where this is going."

"turns out," you laugh in disbelief, "he's allergic."

"no."

"yes." you groan. "and the very first second we walked out of that restaurant, he threw up the entire contents of his consumed seafood boil all over me."

"holy shit," matthew laughs, "that's a way better answer than what I expected! what did you do?"

"I broke down and cried." you admitted embarrassingly, head dropping into your manicured hands. "I didn't even know what else to do!"

"i'm assuming no second date? or are you still with football dude?" matt's tone is almost hopefully, eyeing you with an underlying curiosity.

you don't catch it, and you only shake your head—mind still reeling about the awful sushi date from a few years ago. "definitely no second date and no boyfriend period."

"huh," matt hums. you watch something flicker across his face this time, but before you can question it, the expression changes. "alright, your turn. ask me something good—ask me something dirty."

"oh my god." you groan, a gentle roll of your eyes following. your reaction is one matt was hoping for, and his face lights up in amusement, a small flurry of laughter passing his lips.

you pause in thought, trying to come up with a decently good question. if you were stuck in an elevator with this guy, you at least want it to be entertaining. still lingering with the affects of the sangria in your bloodstream, a smirk grows on your face. if he wanted dirty, you'd give him the opportunity to act on that.

"what's your secret sexual fantasy?"

matt looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that sort of level of question from you.

you're almost embarrassed by the bluntness of your words, and you feel warmth creeping up your chest and warming your ears. but you're not backing down now, eyeing matt expectantly from the other side of the elevator.

he takes his ball cap off, running his hand through his floppy hair before securing the hockey branded hat back on his head. "well when I was in high school-"

"-so yesterday?" you interrupt cheekily.

matt laughs once. "when I was in high school," he repeats lightly, "I used to have this fantasy about fucking a teacher."

"oh my god," you sigh knowingly. "ever guy I knew and their dad had the exact same fantasy—what is it about a teacher that makes you want to fuck her?"

he brings his knees up, resting his forearms on his bent legs, the man spreading position doing unspeakable things to your head. matt sighs lightly, "something about their demeanour, I suppose. the almost teasing personality combined with the hair and the tight skirts and button up shirts...gets me every time."

you gulp nervously. matt's just described the business attire cloaking your body to a tea—when he walked into this elevator and saw you did he immediately think about his past fantasies?

without nothing what to say to that response, you clear your throat gently. "your turn."

you think an hour has passed since the elevator came to a malfunctioning stop, and both you and matt have tried to call button three separate times since then—still nothing but that damn high-pitched buzzing. at this point you're considering prying open the elevator doors yourself.

you're hot, tired and somehow turned on? you really need to get out of here.

it doesn't help that matt has become extremely flirtatious, sending you teasing smiles and asking your dirty questions for the rest of your 21 questions game. plus, he's ditched his hoodie and his hat, leaving him in a tight fitting black shirt—he's so fit you're practically drooling.

you've switched your seating position since then, and you're now lying flat on your back, feet up against the wall of the elevator. the worn out carpet is pressing against your back through your shirt uncomfortably, and your pencil skirt has slipped dangerously low on your hips—but you don't even care, especially with the predicament you're currently in.

"I need to pee." you mumble, eyes closing as you concentrate on controlling your small bladder.

matt's back is pressed to the same wall beside your propped up legs, his bicep grazing your knee as he turns slightly to look at you. "are you joking?"

"i'm really not."

he sighs. "okay, well you're going to have to hold it."

your eyes shoot open, looking towards matt like a crazy person. "hold it?" you question wildly. "you're asking the girl who's been downing sangria all night to hold her pee?"

"well there's no bathroom in here." matt states the obvious, looking back at you just as crazily. "want me to cup my hands so you can pee in them?"

your gaze turned pointed. "are you being serious?"

"absolutely not." he laughs loudly, looking at you with amusement.

another hour passes, and that's low-balling—it feels like you've been in here for a whole night. when you asked matt to call someone—someone to come and help—he'd told you his phones been dead for hours, and your small sliver of hope dissipated.

at this point you're feeling irritated—because in a building this expensive and fancy, they seriously haven't figure out the logistics of their broken down elevator.

you've gotten tired of sitting, and decided you're going to stand. you're slumped against the wall, the handle bar digging into your ass uncomfortably. you ditched your kitten heels so long ago that the thought of having to eventually (hopefully) put them back on is literally taxing.

you're just glad you'd spontaneously painted your toenails yesterday after work—because the last thing you needed in the presence of an attractive man was chipped toe polish.

"truth or dare?" you question gently, looking down at matt with a bored expression. the entire evening it's been matt coming up with ridiculous games in order to pass the time, but this time it's you.

his head lulls back against the wall, brows raised. matt's still on the floor, his tree trunk sized legs stretched out—so long he's almost touching your feet. "i'm kind of curious what dare you'll come up with." he admits smugly, looking at you with a boyish smile.

"I dare you...." you trail off, desperately racking your mind for a subtle dare. you honestly hadn't thought that far ahead, and this style of game was very limited in an elevator—a spacious, lush elevator, but still. an idea pops into your head, and although it's not the most creative, it works. "I dare you to try and beat me in a staring contest."

matt laughs. "oh, you're so on." he shifts his body, pushing up with his palms so he's more ridged—displaying a perfect posture. his tongue slowly passes through his lips, licking onto his bottom lip to moisten the already plump surface.

you watch in what can only look like awe, standing across the elevator like a fool. you really need to get yourself under control.

his brows shoot up in question, eyeing you up and down. "are you going to come over here and play? or just stand there and check me out?"

you scoff lightly, blushing at the embarrassment of getting called out. "don't be so egotistical—it's not attractive." despite your words, you make your way towards him, bare feet padding against the carpeted floor until your toes brush against the material of his jeans.

you drop down beside his spread thighs, your knees digging into the hard floor. your skirt pulls at the tension across your legs, and your stomach unattractively spills over the band of your skirt— immediately you regret your choice of position.

matt watches the entire thing, eyes hazy with a subtle smirk beginning to ghost across his lips. "so i'm attractive to begin with?"

your eyes flicker towards his and away from your skintight skirt. the way he's looking at you—drinking you in—has you feeling hot and bothered. what have you gotten yourself into here? you bite your lip gently, yet nervously, a gentle breath of laughter sneaking out. "i'm trying to have a staring contest here, matt. if you want to talk about looks, i'll just assume you're forfeiting."

"I don't forfeit." he mutters smugly, further turning his torso so he's facing your direction—well, as well as he can manage while sitting down.

"ah," you chime, "a competitor."

"a winner." matt corrects gently, "I always get what I want."

there's an underlying meaning with his words, one that has your belly spinning and toes curling. you gulp roughly, doing your best to keep holding onto the strong eye contact—the damn staring content hasn't even started yet and you're already faltering.

"we'll see about that." you don't mean to whisper, but you do, and that has matt's teasing grin widening. you clear your throat, blinking a few times. "alright, ready?"

"always." he nods. you don't see the way he watches your sporadic blinking with a soft expression, eyes littered with amusement and admiration as you ‘prepare’. "you gunna count us in?" matt asks.

"sure." you hum. your eyes flutter closed as you begin counting down from 3. your words are slow—deliberate—pacing yourself and taking the short amount of time to try and collect your erratic heart and scattered thoughts.

as you hit one, your eyes snap open, meeting the chocolate ones of matt. the silence is almost deafening, bouncing off the red tinted metal interior of the elevator around your still bodies.

you can practically see matt's smirk through his eyes—the way they slightly crinkle at the side giving him away. you squint pointedly, "what?"

"you're just really focused." he mutters quietly.

"I want to win." you admit, just as hushed.

"that's cute." he licks his lip. "but you won't."

you scoff out a laugh, your eyes beginning to burn around the edges, drying out. "cocky?"

"confident."

you snicker. "I think you're all talk." you're playing with fire here, you're well aware of that—but you need him to crack. your eyes are becoming drier by the second, and you won't be able to hold your blinks back for much longer. "i think you're secretly dying right now."

"nah," his tone is teasing. "but I can see the tears in your eyes, y/n. I know you want to blink."

"don't be fooled," you chime. in a moment of boldness, you shift forward, drawing your face closer to matt's—without blinking or breaking contact. "they’re tears of victory."

"tears of victory already?" matt questions playfully. he's not backing down, and from the suggestive tone lacing his words, you should've suspected the sensual turn of his next words. "but I haven't even touched you yet."

you blink in shock, flushing all over as matt cheers.

"damn it." you curse, wiping the tears pooling under your damp lashes. "that's not fair. you used words to trick me into blinking." you pull back, eyeing matt with humoured disbelief.

"It's so fair! you chose to get all flustered by that, all I did was say it." he reminds you cheekily, looking anything but innocent. matt bites down onto his bottom lip seductively, eyes lingering over your tight skirt and shirt like an animal. his gaze flickers back towards your face, and his playful expression increases.

you don't say anything—mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you digest his words and deal with his hungry stare.

"so am I getting a chance to ask you now? or are you too flustered to continue?"

you really wish you didn't wear your emotions so easily on your face—because it makes things like this even more difficult to hide—and clearly matt has picked up on that.

you splutter momentary, a jumbled string of words leaving your lips in a stutter. eventually you collect yourself, muttering with a pointed expression. "just...go."

matt's smirk is almost infuriating, and the way he tongues his cheek to try and contain it, even more so. he ponders for only a moment, lips pursing in thought. a beat passes, "what's the sexiest thing a guy can say or do that always works on you?" matt questions. "like what's your biggest turn on—sexual or not."

your brow quirks up in amusement. "you know with all these sex related questions i'm beginning to think you're younger than you told me."

he laughs. "don't pretend like you're not enjoying this. I can tell by your eyes."

"oh, so you know my eyes do you?"

"I know more than you think." he tells you firmly—his eyes daring as if he's tempting you to challenge him. "answer the question, y/n. god, we don't have all night." matt teases you in a playful manner, knee shifting to the side and bumping against your bent one.

"on the contrary—I think we do have all night." he shoots you a deadpanned look, and you sigh gently. "okay, let me think."

you've had two boyfriends in your life—which isn't that unheard of or shocking. your first boyfriend was in high school, and you'd only started dating because your friends thought he was a cutie and said you'd be cute together. which looking back now, was not a reason to date someone. he was very sweet, but honestly he was too sweet, and kind of a push over. you felt like you had to be in charge of everything—it made you feel like someone you're not.

your second boyfriend was in college, and you dated for a few months before breaking it off. contrary to your high school boyfriend, this guy was the complete opposite of sweet. he was never that kind towards you, and he was overly protective. he claimed he was really manly—but was actually just an asshole who wants you to act like his mommy.

with those experiences, you grew to know what you're looking for in a man, especially when it comes to their personality, how they carry themselves and how they make you feel.

"someone who has goals." you start, "if they have aspirations and aren't shy about pursuing them I think that's really hot."

you continue. "also a man that makes me feel confident. like, a manly guy who's not afraid to praise me and love me—and show me off. that's super attractive."

matt looks at you then—really looks at you. his eyebrows pull together slightly, creating a tiny divet in the middle of his forehead. "has nobody ever treated you right or something? because that's the kind of shit that should be bare minimum."

you blink—you've never thought of it that way. but yeah, matt's right. that should be a bare minimum, because if you're boyfriends not treating you like he loves you or honestly, loves himself—he's not doing it right.

you shrug. "shitty boyfriends."

matt hums once, and his soft gaze doesn't leave yours—drinking you in like he's a starved man in desperate need of your water.

you're flushing again, but that's not a surprise—tingling all over like your nerves have gone completely off the rails. you gulp, "guess it's my turn."

"guess so." he smirks.

this time, you don't have to think of something, and your question comes quickly. "what was your first impression of me?"

"first impression?" matt parrots, to which you nod once, a low hum rumbling through you. "do you want me to be honest?"

you exhale shakily, core practically fluttering. "yes." you're practically sober now, so you're surprised at yourself for being so forward—seductive tones and suggestive words are not in your sober catalogue.

"I thought you were beautiful." he admits, unashamed. "the kind of beautiful that just alludes sexy—like you're smart and you know what you want."

"yeah?" you whisper.

"mhm." matt practically moans, licking onto his bottom lip. "and I could smell your perfume. it was like walking into a cloud of fresh flowers—enticing and intoxicating."

"and your hands." he continues, eyes fluttering briefly as he recalls a few hours back when he'd helped your untangle your hair. "they're so soft and so small...I couldn't help but picture them on my body, running over my skin."

you whine quietly. "matt."

the energy between you has completely shifted, and the tip toeing around you've been participating in all night has completely changed. it's raw now—it's a primal need that you've become completely enveloped in.

matt seems to have given up on the actual asking part of the game—looking at you through the red light swallowing the interior of the elevator and casting a rose glow over your skin. "I dare you to come here."

the gulp you emit practically echoes through the tension filled space, making the situation feel even more intense—more real.

with another nervous but excited swallow, you move. you push up onto your knee caps, your skirt immediately loosening around your thighs—your blood comes rushing back, and your legs immediately thank you. your eyes flicker to his, the smallest bit of hesitation in them.

you give him the opportunity to end this—tell you he's just fooling around. but as matt looks at you—nothing but pure want in his gaze—you move forward, throwing your leg over the expanse of matt's thighs.

automatically your skirt begins shifting higher up your body, and as you sink down to sit on matt's lap, the material almost completely rises, exposing the bottom of your ass, decorated in lace trim lining your panties.

matt exhales breathily, large palms gently sliding up the tops of your thighs—feeling and drinking in your soft skin. "shit," he curses so quietly and rushed, if you weren't sitting on his lap you probably wouldn't of heard it.

but you did hear it—and your core clenched around nothing. you've never been this turned on in your life—and the sangria isn't even an excuse anymore.

"how badly do you want to kiss me?" you ask matt, playing into the childish game of truth or dare that started this whole conversation. your hands—slightly shaky—run over matt's hard chest, feeling the ripple of muscle under your palms as your drag upwards.

you run over his collarbones and watch his adam's apple bob harshly, no doubt getting lost in the feeling of your hands—the hands he's been fantasizing about since he walked onto the elevator.

you push your hips down ever so slightly, feeling the semi-hard budge pushing against the seam of matt's jeans.

your eyes flicker back towards his face, looking into his glossed over eyes. matt's pupils dilate, and he looks anything but nervous. "I think you can feel just how bad."

he shifts, pressing his bulge into your covered core—bumping against your already sensitive clit. matt is growing harder—needier—by the second, and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to contain himself.

you look so pretty on him, your mouth falling open in a daze like way—staggered breaths passing through your rosy lips. "please." you whine, face inching closer to his.

that's the only signal matt needs from you, closing the little distance between you and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss.

it's instantly taking your breath away, matt leading you in an exchange that is leaving you nothing short of lightheaded. his calloused hands move further up your thighs, following the natural direction around the backside of your hips, finding your ass. he pushes the gray material of your skirt further up and away from your hips, exposing your ass to the interior walls of the broken down elevator completely.

his fingers need the flesh expertly, pushing and pulling you against his jean covered bulge like his life depended on it.

matt continues his kiss on your mouth, suckling on your bottom lip, pulling it away from you before letting it go with a pop.

you can practically feel the arousal pooling in your underwear, and you huff pleasantly, leaning back in to capture matt's lips in a rough kiss. your mouths are slick with shared salvia, sliding over each others like you've don't it a million times before.

the slick sounds are intoxicating—turning you both on further. reluctantly, matt pulls back, away from your pursed, leaving just enough space for him to speak. "I dare you to let me fuck you." his swollen lips brush over yours as he says it, adding to the erotica of it all.

before you can logically think, your nodding, a breathy yes falling from your wet lips.

he smirks, sloped nose nudging against yours as he leans back in, catching your lips once again. you're already moaning into it, allowing matt to continue dragging your weeping core over his crotch. it's been so long since you've been handled the way matt is handling you right now—actually, you don't think you've ever been handled this way.

you're already a smaller person, but in matt's lap you're practically non-existent. he moves you easily and perfectly, muscles shifting and tightening in a way that under your finger tips, feels drool worthy.

you lift your hips slightly, and matt lets you—curious and too turned on to deny you. pulling away from his mouth, you let your warm forehead rest against his, and your eyes flicker down towards his hips—towards his dick.

the bulge is painfully hard, straining against his zipper. you let your one hand fall from his shoulder, shooting down to his jeans with shaky fingers. "wanna see you." you mumble, tugging open the metal button.

matt breathes a laugh, watching with lazy eyes as your nimble fingers tug at his zipper—roughly and quickly pulling it down to reveal his straining boxer briefs.

you bring your faces back together, bumping your noses as you interlock your lips again. while the kiss continues, you find your hand creeping under the elastic waist band of matt's underwear, moving through the space until you're grazing his most sensitive area.

he grunts against your lips, a curse whispered into your mouth. you smirk into it, hand wrapping around matt's fully hard dick. it's big—deliciously so, and your fingers barley brush as you fist him.

he pulls back. "holy fuck."

you bite the swollen skin of your bottom lip, eyes flickering over matt's blissed out expression as you continue pumping his dick—slowly but deliberately. "feel good?"

matt hums. "better than good."

you run your thumb over his oozing tip, spreading the streak of pre-cum over the surface. your thumb slides back into place, and you continue to pump him. he's growing hotter and heavier in your grip—he's close.

suddenly, his grip on your hips tightens, and he sits up straighter. matt holds you against him, and your hand slips of his dick at the fluid change in motion. gently, he lies you down, your back against the carpet once again tonight. your skirt is bunched around your torso, exposing your underwear completely.

but you're not even bothered by that—you're further turned on by it if anything. you reach towards matt's chest as he hovers over you, pawing at his shirt in a silent request.

thankfully, matt gets it, and a smirk pulls at his lips. he sit up on his knees before gripping the edge of his top, pulling it off in one swift motion.

your eyes glaze over as you watch his skin become exposed, muscles moving under his smooth skin—the red glow making the hard surface look more defined. he catches your stare, "see something you like?"

you take ahold of your lip between your teeth briefly. "see something I need." you correct seductively, eyes following matt as he crawls back over you.

your legs spread apart wider subconsciously, further inviting matt into your space.

"what else do you need?" matt whispers, fingers pushing your tangled hair off your flushed face. his hand trails off your face, down your neck and over your hallowed collarbone. you're too flustered to answer him, but your body reacts regardless—hips jerking up until your core bumps against his.

matt's hand finally finds your underwear, and he slowly drags two fingers over your slit. you're already worked up, the combination of matt's steady pressure and the material adding extra stimulation against you, has you moaning out. "please." you whimper.

"please what?" he smirks cheekily, still continuing the movements over your wet core.

if you weren't so turned on, you would've rolled your eyes. but, you're too horny to bite back. "please touch me."

"that's it." he praises quietly. matt hooks two fingers around the lace waistband of your underwear, swiftly pulling the material off you. you can feel your sticky arousal trail from your pussy to your underwear, the gooey substance stringy as your underwear leaves your body. matt practically finishes at the sight, "fuck, you're already soaking wet for me."

your underwear get tossed in one of the corners of the elevator, and you can't even process how disgusting that will be to deal with when this is all over—you don't care. "can't help myself." you mumble, "you've been working me up all night."

matt's eyes twinkle. "I know." before you have a chance to say anything about that remark, matt fingers circle your dripping entrance slowly, teasing you with his calloused pads. he doesn't make you wait very long before he slips into your hole, spreading you with his fingers.

your mouth falls open, eyes darting down to watch. he adjusts his positioning so that his palm bumps against your clit, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy. "that feels so good." you mewl.

"yeah?" matt questions, a hint of teasing in his voice. "and what if I do this?" he changes his rhythm, and instead of the thrusting motion he'd been previously doing, he curls his fingers deeper, rubbing his palm over your bundle of nerves—hitting all your weak spots.

the wet sound is like music to his ears, and he can feel your juices gushing, leaking down his fingers and dripping onto the carpet.

you curse breathily, eyes fluttering closed as your head falls back—too weak to hold it up any longer. "i'm gunna cum."

your words have matt abruptly pulling his fingers out of your entrance, leaving you whining, shocked and your walls fluttering around nothing. your eyes shoot open, mouth falling in disbelief. "whyyyyyyy?"

"hey." he laughs in amusement. "relax." matt pushes his jeans down further, reaching just under his balls. his hand, still slick with your juices, reaches into his underwear, pulling out his dick.

he squeezes himself, a fluttering groan bubbling from his chest at the delicious pressure.

your irritation and remarks die on your tongue at the sight. his cock is just as big as it felt, thick with two prominent veins running up the underside—his tip an angry pink and leaking.

you can feel yourself dripping—at this point your practically a faucet. matt fists himself a couple times, lining his tip with your fluttering hole. "is this okay?" he questions heavily, eyes finding yours again.

you bite your lip, an attempt at containing your ridiculously wide grin. "more than." you nod your approval, and matt smiles at that, mirroring your expression.

but as he pushes his hard length into you, your smiles falter, pleasure laced moans and whimpers mixing between your bodies. he stretches you out perfectly, your walls hugging his slightly curved dick like your life depended on it.

"god, you feel so fucking good." matt huffs once he's fully sheathed inside your gooey pussy. his pelvis brushes against your clit, and a shock goes through you

matt uses his free hand to push your leg against your chest, creating a more open angle which has him sliding in even further. "you're so deep." you whine, clenching over him. "please move, holy fuck."

matt groans at your request, but doesn't have to be told twice as he begins to pull out of you before thrusting his length back in. his pace quickly turns fast, rutting into you so perfectly and hitting all the spots you need him to.

you're a moaning, sloppy mess, withering under matt like you don't know how to act—you don't know how to act when you're getting fucked this good.

matt reaches towards your shirt, and in one quick movement he pops the buttons open, revealing your animal print bra. he doesn't waste a second before pulling down the cups roughly, revealing your puffy nipples. "you're so beautiful—fuck me."

he grabs onto your boob, squeezing the fleshy mound like his life depended on it. the stimulation is heavenly, and you're whimpering like a baby. "i'm close." you admit.

matt picks up his pace, pounding into your hole quicker and deeper than before. you’re practically scream, nails digging into matt's torso as your ground yourself. you feel like you're being bent in half—in the best way possible. his pelvis is smacking against your clit perfectly, and tugging into your hole expertly. "that's it, fuck, such a good girl."

he pinches your nipple once more before his hand comes up towards the side of your face. matt holds your cheek softly, leaning down to connect your lips in a munch needed kiss.

you kiss him back with just as much passion he's giving you, letting your mouths exchange dominant passes over one another. when matt hits your sentive spot with the tip of his dick, you pull away, struggling to stay focused on anything but his movements inside you.

"i'm cumming." you whimper, brows pulling together as you focus on the feeling of coming undone. "don't stop—oh my god, don't stop."

"come on baby." matt huffs, kissing your neck quickly. "let go for me."

and you do. your entire body tightens as your walls clamp down on him—like your pussy was trying to suck him in. your orgasm washes over your skin, making you feel light and tingly, and your body goes limp—a pornographic moan falling from your lips.

matt slows ever so slightly, letting you ride out your high on his throbbing cock. matt releases his hold on your leg, letting it fall back into its original spread position. "yeah...you're so good y/n."

you whine, eyes fluttering open to watch matt's dick continuing to slide in and out of your spent entrance. his pace begins to pick up again—close to his release. "where you want me to cum?"

you sigh pleasantly. "on 'm belly."

"yeah?" he questions, already beginning lifting your skirt to properly expose your lower tummy pudge. "right here?"

"mhmm." you moan. "so hot, matt."

matt's thrusts become sporadic, and his rhythm has gone out the window as he chases his own orgasm. and with three more pumps into your seeping hole before he fully pulls out, fisting his cock as his seed spurts over your stomach.

"fuck." matt splutters, pumping out the last few drops of cum. the hot and sticky liquid drips onto your stomach, adding to the already covered skin.

you breath a mixture of laughter and a moan, watching the mess pool on your body. "that's really hot."

matt meets your eyes, breathless as he grins. "you're really hot."

you giggle, covering your hot face with the palms of your hands.

"don't go shy on me now." matt laughs, gently tugging your hands away. you look like a hot mess—beat red even under the glow of the emergency light, with mascara smudged under your eyes and lips swollen—matt's never seen anything sexier.

you look at him timidly, but matt's grin doesn't waiver, leaning back into your space. "give me a kiss."

and you do, leaning up and pressing your lips to his in another kiss. this one is softer, more relaxed—but still laced with passion and need.

the loud buzz of the speaker has you pulling apart, surprising you both. a grainy voice begins to speak, "is anybody in this elevator?"

you and matt turn to look at one another, eyes wide. "fuck."

you can't help but laugh as matt scrambles off your body, half naked as he presses the call button, answering the lady on the other end.

and as you lay there, with the man who only a few hours ago was a stranger, sneaking a glance at you over his shoulder, you can't help be feel overjoyed for getting stuck in an elevator. and although you don’t really know that much about him other than his name and what he looks like naked—you can’t wait to learn.

——

part 2

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