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holy-puckslibrary · 5 months ago

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─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~

I. it’s getting so much clearer…

Matthew regrets making you a key.

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble.

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring.

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage.

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane.

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare.

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is.

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?”

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood.

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven.

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange.

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load.

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone.

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand.

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course.

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line.

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist."

And he does.

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head.

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list.

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one.

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate.

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly.

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.”

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard.

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future.

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor.

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently.

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did.

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.”

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection.

“—looks so fucking stupid.”

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey.

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind.

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day.

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?”

“Of course, it fucking do—”

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting.

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…”

“It looks, what?”

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you.

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.”

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup.

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you.

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat.

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you.

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep.

What’s gotten into him?

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.)

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself.

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge.

Not with you looking like that.

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.”

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes.

You snort. “Funny."

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you.

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge.

Matthew turns you to face him without warning.

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later.

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest.

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates.

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible.

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way.

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey.

“W-We need to be quick—”

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good?

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse.

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.”

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.”

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds.

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is.

A robbery, if you ask him.

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites.

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles.

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused.

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes.

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”

“I'm not.”

“You've never been a good liar.”

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect.

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams.

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you.

“Don't change the subject.”

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither.

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.”

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you.

“So?”

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive.

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.”

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony.

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard.

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?”

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance.

And you do.

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser.

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time.

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade.

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.

Mathew smiles.

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough.

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.”

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now.

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic.

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed.

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life.

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you.

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice.

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?”

“They aren’t!”

They absolutely are.

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles.

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple.

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears.

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay.

And he doesn’t hate it.

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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thatsdemko · 1 year ago

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the other matthews - m.knies

masterlist

pairing: matthew knies x fem!matthews!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + oral (f receiving) + build up

a/n: slightly inspired by the book icebreaker by Hannah grace… happy frozen frenzy! leafs won and I’m here to spread the good vibes!

he’s not lost—well maybe. it’s his fault for listening to Mitch’s advice on trying new places that aren’t around his apartment, and now he’s twenty minutes away with a bag of cold food and an empty stomach. so much for listening to his teammates that’s his rookie mistake.

you’d seen him pace around the same block at least five times. his golden brown hair flops in the Toronto breeze under his beanie, and if it wasn’t for feeling the Canadian kindness you wouldn’t have extended the empty seat across from you for him.

“do you know where we are?” he’s shivering. the maple leafs sweatshirt wasn’t keeping him warm, and the phone in his hand has gone cold. his finger tips are red mixture with white, not even his pockets or a warm cup of hot chocolate could keep him warm.

“well for you, you’re about a ten minute walk, for me, it’s it’s around the corner.”

his eyebrows shift upwards, head cocks to the right like a puppy confused, “do I know you?” he would’ve just assumed you were a leafs fan happy to have him across from you, or just an overall good citizen, but you knowing his exact coordinates? maybe you’re a stalker— he’s hoping it’s not that.

“depends, but you really should get home. my brother wouldn’t like to see you in his spot.”

said brother was emerging from the bathroom, and in the corner of his eyes was a storm of a big nightmare. broad shoulders and bulging biceps were enough to alert him out of the seat and out the door.

“who was that?”

“just another lost American.”

—

“what are you doing here?”

he’s a little shocked, a thick golden brown hair pulled back from his shower, he looks good but that’s not what you’re supposed to be focused on. you’re waiting for your brother to exit out that locker room so you can head to his apartment and his fluffy guest bed.

his mind races a million places, his first stalker? a teammates sibling he may, or hopefully not of, hooked up with? a leafs team member? he’s thankful for the locker room door opening to put a halt on his racing mind.

“hey, you ready to go?”

the broad figure reappears, it’s startling almost and instead of running like the last time, he sticks around to find out that the terrifying brother, was his own teammate. Auston Matthews.

“yeah! I’m just getting acquainted with your rookie.” you point in his direction, making your brothers head snap in the direction of Matthew. he looked shaken, a bit shocked and confused.

“ah,” Auston sighs throwing an arm around his rookies shoulders, “don’t get too comfortable, she’s only here for another week.”

his brown eyes dart between you and Auston, the connections finally sinking. your facial features awfully similar to Auston’s and your smiles deepen within the same creases, how could he be such a fool to never realize that? all along you knew him as your brothers teammate, and he knew you as just a girl with infinite amount of knowledge.

“another week?” his voice comes out squeaky, like the air in his lungs are trapped by the new found information. it’s the first time he actually looked at you as more than just someone, he took the chance to finally recognize your beauty and your similarities to the man that stands beside you.

“yeah I had back to school next week.”

all he can do is nod. he can’t breathe. not a single word exits his mouth as he waves you two off and a hand claps over his shoulder allowing the air to escape his lungs, “she’s way out of your league.” Mitch’s voice rings his ears.

“she’s Auston’s sister.”

“youngest, may I add.” Mitch spins into Matthew’s view, “and didn’t you listen to Auston last week? no dating his sisters especially y/n. swear your mind is always in outer space.”

and Mitch wasn’t entirely wrong. while Matthew was present for his teammates “my sister is coming” speech matthew was not expecting Auston’s sister to be a five foot something beauty with thick dark brown locks that have his mind in a twisted game.

“I was present,” he swallows turning his head back to the exit where you’re long gone, “but I wasn’t entirely present.”

—

the charity event is packed with old rich men accompanied by young girls, and it exhausted you. handshake after handshake nothing seemed to change, their donations were generous but you grew up boredom quickly after the second round of handshaking.

the drink slides across the bar, and it doesn’t take a second to register in your mind who it could be, because by the time your eyes flicker up from the cocktail matthew is beside you, “so you failed to mention Auston.”

“our conversations kept running short.” you offer a weary smile taking the rim to your lips, sipping down the alcohol.

“they were long enough for you to throw in your older brothers name.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes, still taking long sips of the drink in your hands here and there, “I thought you were smart enough to figure it out. I guess I gave you too much credit.”

“don’t sell me too short, y/n.” he gives you a cocky grin. it’s one you want to swallow whole and knock him silly, but it ignited a fire in your stomach you were sure was not there prior to this. you blame his ability to dress clean. it’s definitely messing with you.

“prove me wrong then, prove to me you’re smart.” it’s definitely the alcohol talking, but you know he’s a determined individual. if he’s anything like your brother, he loves a good competition, and you can see the spark in his eyes.

“I can do that, doll.” he steps closer, his brown eyes are darker than they were before. you hadn’t noticed his hand was resting on your hip until he pulled you closer to his chest, “I bet I can find your clit faster than any other man could.” his voice is low, it vibrates against your eardrum making your body curl closer to his with a chill down your spine.

your mouth is dry, the only thing you can do is cock your head upwards and hope your eyes are testing him, and with your luck, he’s whisking you off to the nearest bathroom.

your heart is hammering against your chest. taking one last glance behind you, your brother is nowhere in sight and thank fuck he’s not when Matthew locks the door and slams your body against the steel door.

his tongue is fierce, fighting and playing with yours, you’re both exchanging saliva at this point. he’s lift you up by the back of your thighs. setting you on the edge of the sink, he kneels down tossing your legs over his shoulders. it shouldn’t be such a hot scene, but damn it was, especially when his lips just ghost your inner thighs, and his fingers dance your wet panties.

you have to bite down on your bottom lip, you’re so wet just by his touch you can’t help wanting to let the moan out.

he’s patient, takes his time it’s almost like he’s forgotten the mission until his tongue nudged your entrance and you’re washed with a different emotion. one you’d never felt before, it made your legs shake, whatever his tongue was doing he must’ve found the clit and it was definitely not by accident when he nudged it again.

you role yourself closer to his face, he pulls away quickly before cum is all he can see, “didn’t even need a map, it’s just too easy.”

“you’re a prick, knies.”

“Aw we were just getting to know each other, Matthews.”

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lecsainz · 1 year ago

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DATING WITH JACK

parings: jack hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: how I think it would be to date jack

authors note: I'm going to start writing about hockey, so if you have any requests, feel free to send them.

✩. . . masterlist !

You and Jack met at a local coffee shop in New Jersey. You didn't really follow hockey, so you had no idea who he was. He noticed you and tried to hide, thinking you might be a fan, but you just thought he was being shy.

When he finally mustered the courage to strike up a conversation, you didn't recognize him, and we had an awkward exchange about our favorite coffee flavors. Jack was pleasantly surprised that you wasn't starstruck.

Our first date was at a local art gallery, as you was more into art than sports. Jack, wanting to impress you, did some quick research on famous artists, which led to some amusing mispronunciations of artists' names.

Jack and you tried to keep our relationship low-key, given his status as a professional athlete. We enjoyed quiet evenings at home and occasionally attended games where you'd pretend to be just another fan.

Jack becomes your personal hockey tutor, explaining the rules and strategies. You start to attend games regularly, and your interest in the sport grows.

You and Jack enjoy watching movies and cooking together on your off days. He's a huge fan of your homemade dishes.

You support Jack in his career, even if it means traveling for away games. You become a true Devils fan and proudly wear his jersey in the stands.

He teaches you the basics of ice skating, and you share cute moments on the rink, occasionally falling but always laughing.

On off-days, you both enjoy exploring the beautiful parks and beaches along the Jersey Shore.

Jack's teammates adore you, and you've become a regular at team gatherings, where you've made friends in the hockey world.

You've introduced Jack to some of your favorite non-hockey hobbies, like hiking, cooking, and binge-watching TV series.

He's always there to comfort you after a tough day, and you support him through the highs and lows of his hockey career.

You two have a playful rivalry in mini-hockey games at home, and Jack swears you have a hidden talent for slapshots.

Date nights often involve watching classic hockey games together or attending charity events to give back to the community.

You've traveled together to see other NHL arenas, making it a goal to visit every one over the years.

#🏒. — hockey works ⋆∴#hockey fic #hockey x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes headcanons #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #hockey x you #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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jackhues · 11 months ago

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home - nico hischier

notes: i hope you guys like this, ninth fic for 'it's the most wonderful time of the year' celly :)) not proofread!

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

part of naqia's end of the year celly!

gif not mine

switzerland was a beautiful place, and perhaps one of your favourite places to visit.

when you suggested visiting for christmas, nico readily agreed. he loved his home, he really did. and he loved seeing you fall in love with it as well.

which led you to where you were now, standing near the window and watching the sun rise in one of the most beautiful places you'd ever been.

"i love this," you muttered. "it's so beautiful."

nico nodded, his eyes trained on you. "beautiful."

you blushed, noticing what he was doing, but you were well prepared. nico had always been a flirt, and now that you were in switzerland, he had the home advantage.

you knew he wasn't going to let up. and you were okay with that.

"quit flirting and get changed," you patted his shoulder as you headed out of the room. "we need to get breakfast and then explore this lovely place. hurry."

"yes ma'am," he saluted.

you rolled your eyes, heading downstairs to put your shoes on.

nico had grown up in this area and he knew all of the best spots to eat. there was actually this one breakfast spot that opened early every morning and had the best food ever.

it was where you two were headed now.

"finally," you pocketed your phone as nico came downstairs. "i'm hungry."

"what a lovely name, i'm nico," he responded.

you gave him a deadpan look, before bursting out into laughter. nico laughed as well, holding out his arm.

you took it, walking down the streets together. you stopped on the way often, to spin around, to pet a dog that someone was walking, or to simply take in the scenic views.

it was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking in your eyes.

the way everything looked was so different to what you were used to, but at the same time, it was just perfect. it was home to nico.

and now, it was home to you too.

#naqia's end of the year celly!#naqia writes!#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier imagines #nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier one shot #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #hockey x you #nhl one shot #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you

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zoe-is-amazingg · 10 months ago

Text

Why'd you only call me when your high?

18+

Mark Estapa X F Reader

Summary - You've always had feelings for him, but he only evers calls you when he's high.

W/C - 1.5 k

Warnings - Drinking and smoking, kissing, fluff, angst, like kinda smut to very little. swearing and mentions of smut

A/N - start requesting hockey guys pookies 😘😘

You were always helping Mark. Fucking Mark. The guy would couldn't seem to not be inlove with blunts and weed as you were inlove with him. Everything was so fucking pathetic to your friends, but you needed the slightest bit of attention from him that you could manage.

So, at 3am, Ethan called you, claiming him and Mark were not currently under the influence, but they were. If either one of them calls you at 3am, Mark was high. Doesnt even matter if any of his friends told him not to, he found a longing in it.

"Y/n, Mark needs you." Ethan mumbles and Mark giggles in the background.

"No." You say, your heart breaking at saying this, but you need to say no. You just couldnt keep saying yes, you would get known for being able to relie on when someone was high. The hockey guys knew you only did this for Mark, some of them tried it once. You needed to say no to Mark just like you say no to his teammates.

The slight gasp you heard from another guy, who your assuming is Dylan. "Shit man, she hates you now." Dylan chuckles. Your eyes narrow in instinct, the quickly go back when you realise it was a phone call.

"I don't hate you Mark, just get sober." You whisper as you hang up. It was heartbreaking, saying no. But you just couldn't bring it to yourself to say yes and let him walk all over you like usual.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Each time your phone vibrates, another ping of pain to your heart. You couldn't help but feel sad about it all, you were rejecting the only form of contact you get from Mark. You open your phone, if you read the text but don't respond, it'll give more impact to him.

Please Y/n For fucks sake Y/n, answer me I need you.

You can't help but chuckle as you turn off your phone, every single time this happens, he comes to your dorm, you don't now how but he gets here somehow. Then you hookup and he ditches in the morning. A horrible cycle of pain for you and a great cycle of pleasure for him.

Each time and everytime you open the front door for him, he kisses you with lust, the weed or whatever he smoked on his breath. Each time and everytime you accept those kisses, he takes off your clothes and you, his. Each time and everytime it gets taken too far. Each time and everytime you try to convince yourself it'll be different. Each time and everytime it isnt, it never is.

So, he better get the fucking memo. You hear a knock on your door and it pulls you out of your train of thought completely. You pray it isnt him, you pray to god. But no praying could ever save him from arriving at your dorm whenever he was high.

"Y/n, please...open the door." He croaks out, you can't really tell if he was crying or if he sounded like that because he just had probably like 3 blunts.

“Mark, I can’t do this anymore.” You say and he groans from behind the door. “Please. You don’t understand”

“What have I done wrong?” He asks. You weren’t one to complain about this, the attention you lusted for from him night after night, but it had just gotten out of hand for the both of you.

“Nothing. I just need you to not be drunk.” You sigh and he groans again.

“Just open the door Y/N.” Mark begs. Then every single memory comes back to you, his dick being in you, filling you up to the brim, his lips trailing on your neck, the sudden euphoric feeling you get when he fucks you.

The longing feeling in your heart was too much to handle at this point.

And as his ears chirped up at the sound of the doorknob rattling as you opened it, he walked straight inside, no kiss or nothing.

You notice his eyes are bloodshot as he turns around to look at you. “I’m sorry.” He says.

“What?” You ask him as he looks at you, a sorry look plaguing his features. “I’m sorry for being a dick, I’m sorry for us hooking up and then ditching, I just- I can’t imagine my life without you Y/N.” He pleads.

You sigh. “If only you weren’t high, you won’t remember this in the morning.” You say, disappointment ringing in your tone.

“But I do, I always have.” Mark says and you tilt your head. “I always remember it, the way we fuck, the way your body feels against mine, the way I can’t wait to get high and do it all over again with you.”

“Then why not mention it?” You ask and he groans.

“Because! I’m scared your going to fucking hate me and never talk to me again if you do,” He cries; not actual tears, in actuality all that he was crying for was for you. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against yours.

And as he does so, the same everything and everytime floods your brain, but you just hope that he doesn’t leave you this time.

#Spotify #mark estapa #mark estapa fluff #hockey x you #hockey x reader #umich blurbs #umich boys #umich wolverines #umich imagine #umich hockey #ethan edwards

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hockeyboysimagines · 8 months ago

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So far from the Stars

Chapter 3

Warnings:Language, angst, smut, mentions of bars/alcohol.

Hi all! Hope you enjoy this.

If you haven’t please give a read to @cellythefloshie and I collaboration fic we’ve been working on I’ve loved you three summers -Cool for the summer.

Enjoy!

Sometimes Jeremy wondered just how he found himself in these types of situations.

Was it by design?

Was it punishment?

Was it because his life just sucked?

All three he decided. He’d never been more disgusted than he was right this very minute and he was sure that was being reflected on his face.

The night had been great.

Better than great actually.

Drinks were flowing, the group was having a great time, and Courtney was tucked into his side in a booth at their favorite bar. Though he was still upset about what had happened he was mostly just happy to be hanging out with her again. It was shaping up to be a great night and he had a tiny bit of hope that if she wasn’t too intoxicated by the end of the night, just maybe he could make another move. She’d only had one drink and hadn’t gotten a second. She was sitting closer to him than normal, head resting on his shoulder at one point and he felt like he was on top of the world.

So when he’d left her out of the booth to go to the bathroom he hadn’t expected what was about to happen. Veronica slapped his arm and leaned forward with a wide smile.

“You guys look cozy.” She hummed at him, pushing her glasses up her nose. The others were also looking at him interestedly. That gave him some hope. If they noticed it, then he wasn’t imagining it. He sometimes wondered if maybe he took her being friendly as something else, when really he was just giving himself false hope. But this time others were noticing it too.

He couldn’t help but smile and also leaned over towards her “I have no clue what you’re talking about-“ but didn’t get to finish his sentence before a voice interrupted him.

“Uhm-guys.”

They both turned along with the rest of the group to see Justin frowning. They followed his gaze to find that on her way back from the bathroom she had been intercepted by Brad.

Their eyes all swiveled towards Jeremy as they watched them speak. Courtney looked uncomfortable as she took a step back from him nodding at whatever he was saying and for a minute she was blocked from view until she made her way around him and back to where they were sitting. She looked upset as she approached, a small piece of paper in her hand. Brad was watching as she made her way back, and looked over her shoulder to find them all glaring at him, eyes narrowing when he spotted Jeremy on the end of the table being the only one looking at Courtney.

“What the fuck is he doing here? And what is that?” Justin asked pointing at the paper in her hand.

“He just moved back.” Kasey said, glancing at Veronica who made eyes back, and cleared her throat.

“It’s his- number.” She tossed it on the table “No thanks though.” Even though it had been years, that betrayal still hurt her and it was written all over her face.

“When did he move back? I didn’t know he was back here again did you?” Justin asked Veronica.

“Kasey ran into him the other day, but he- Jeremy? Are you okay?” She asked knocking on the table and then glancing at Courtney.

Jeremy had never been more mad. It was beyond mad. This was rage.

He felt a white hot heat creep up him from his toes to his face, burning up his neck, feeling like he was about to explode. He stared at the paper for a second before his eyes moved slowly up to find her staring at him.

“Hey are you-“

He stood up, knocking over a bottle, causing the others to look at him startled, and cleared his throat “I need some air.”

He made his way out of the bar, taking large steps and burst through the door, the night air hitting his face, cool against his hot skin. Thankfully no one was outside as he let out a loud frustrated “UGH!” Into the night air. He wanted to scream, cry and punch something or someone, Brad preferably, but he didn’t do any of those things because he was in public.

The first two would have to wait till he got home, and the third one he could only hope he’d get the chance at one day.

He couldn’t do this to himself anymore. He just couldn’t. He was at the end of his rope and he’d finally had enough. Even though she’d said she didn’t want his number, he had still once again ruined a time when things with them were going good. Who did he think he was talking to her after what he’d done? He had half a mind to turn right back around and beat the hell out of him for even thinking about her.

He heard the door to the bar open, and footsteps behind him but he didn’t care. Whoever it was would just witness the breakdown he was about to have and it was what it was.

But then he heard his name.

“Jeremy.”

It was Courtney. And because it was her he realized that did care. She was some feet behind him and he quickened his pace. He’d never wanted to get away from her before until now.

“Jeremy!” She called again, closer to him now.

“JEREMY!”

Finally he stopped and whipped around to find her right behind him “What?”

She flinched at his tone and he felt bad. He’d never spoken to her that way and he didn’t want to now, but he was so mad he could barely see straight and it was his own fault.

“Did-did I do something?” She looked confused.

“No you didn’t. It’s something I did. To myself and I should have stopped doing it ages ago.”

“I-what? What do you mean?”

He let out a long breath “ Last weekend you kissed me and I-“

“What?” She frowned, eyes moving around trying to think.

“That-that night we went to the bar. We came back to your house and you kissed me.” He finished quietly, looking at his feet.

“I don’t-“

“Remember yeah I know.” He said, hands in his pockets. He thought that it would feel good to get it off his chest, but if anything it made him feel worse.

“I don’t-Jeremy I-“ her eyes got a little glassy and she reached for his hand, pulling it from his pocket and gripping it “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault. I should-I should have told you how I felt years ago but instead I’ve been too afraid of what might happen if I did. That’s on me. I don’t wanna talk about this I wanna go home.” He made to pull his hand from hers but she didn’t let go. He turned and looked at her annoyed.

“Wait a minute.” She was frowning now “I’m sorry I don’t remember, but you never told me how you felt. That’s not my fault.”

He shook his head “I never said it was-“

“You didn’t have to. If you had told me-“

“What?” He said once again attempting to tug his hand from hers but she held on tighter “Would it have changed anything?”

“I don’t know. I mean maybe-“

“No it wouldn’t have and you know it.”

She raised her eyebrows “No I don’t know it. And how the hell was I supposed to know all this? You had girlfriends, and hookups, and you wanna give me a hard time for not wanting to be with you?” Now she looked angry and he didn’t blame her. He knew he was being dumb, that all of that wasn’t her fault but it didn’t make him any less mad about it. He couldn’t be any more mad at himself than he already was so he would be mad at her.

“Didn’t I make it obvious?”

“No no no. I’m not a mind reader. If you wanted me to know you should have and could have told me, not kept it to yourself just to use it against me later.”

He shook his head “That’s not-“

“Yes it is. That’s exactly what you’re doing and you know it.”

He glanced down at her hand, fingers tightly gripping his and then back up at her with a frown “I don’t wanna fight with you. Please let go of my hand.”

She frowned deeper and shook her head “No.”

“Courtney-“ he said exasperatedly. He just wanted to leave and go be mad in his own house where no one could judge him or tell him he was being stupid.

“I said-No.” She took a step closer to him, tugging his hand to pull him closer until she was eye level with his chin and looked up at him.

“What are you doing?” He looked everywhere but at her, knowing that as soon as he did he wouldn’t be mad, and even though he was 100% wrong he didn’t want to admit it.

“Look at me.”

He huffed and stiffened as he felt her tug at his hand again to get his attention and when he didn’t look she reached up suddenly and grabbed him by the chin. He was startled, eyes locking on hers. She stared at him for a second before she leaned forward pausing, eyes still on his.

Fuck it.

He moved the rest of the way, catching her mouth in a very heated kiss, hand coming to tangle in her hair. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth allowing him to push it inside. She felt a chill run up her spine that had nothing to do with the balmy weather and a feelings she’d never had settle in the pit of her stomach, as he wrapped one of his hands around the back of her neck. She was gripping his jacket as they stood kissing on the sidewalk for several seconds before they broke apart.

She looked at him for a second, the fabric of his shirt balled up in her fists before she said very quietly “Can we leave?”

He glanced behind her to find that their friends hadn’t come to investigate and nodded, hand still on the back of her neck.

“Come on.”

20 minutes later he was unlocking his front door and allowing her to walk past him to get inside. The minute she stepped over the threshold and the door closed the air in the room changed. He shut the foot behind him and locked it, following her as she began to step forward.

He was so nervous his hands were shaking and any of the confidence he had earlier outside the bar was gone now. He’d watched her walk through his house hundreds of times, but never to his bedroom. It was dark, and he left the light off, watching as she pulled the curtain open the tiniest bit to let in some of the light outside and turned to him.

He leaned against the door frame and watched as she pulled her jacket off, and draped it over the chair by the window, before she shook out her hair. She looked ethereal, half illuminated and motioned for him to come closer.

He made his way slowly across the room, half afraid she might suddenly change her mind, until he was nearly pressed up against her. He reached a hand forward to stroke her cheek, and tangled his fingers in her hair.

She was even more dazzling up close like this, and he got lost in her eyes for a second before he leaned down and pushed his lips sweetly up against hers. It was slower than it had been 20 minutes ago, and though he was nervous, he had gained some confidence now. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he pulled her closer by the waist, fingers sliding over the soft fabric of her sweater. He moved his hands down her waist to the small of her back, fingers moving over her cool skin where her shirt had ridden up and she gave a little shiver, as he pulled it up slowly and she raised her arms above her head. Her hair was tousled and messy around her back and shoulders, a deep blush across her cheeks. He watched as she sucked in a long breath, and pulled him back to her, hands reaching to pull his own shirt off.

He backed her up against his bed, sitting her down gently but she stopped him when he gave her a gentle nudge down. With shaking hands she reached forward and unbuckled his belt and then sprung the button on his jeans so he could step out of them, and then stood to undo her own.

He knelt between her legs and peeled them down, hands sliding down over the skin of her legs leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Her entire body felt like a live wire as he pulled them over her feet. He leaned up and kissed her again, as they moved backwards together over the bed, and he situated himself between her legs. His skin felt warm against hers as he knotted a hand in her hair, fingers scratching against her scalp.

Her bra strap slipped off her shoulder and he gripped it with his fingers “Can I take this off?”

She leaned up and he unhooked it, pulling it off and tossing it to the side, before he glanced down between them. Wordlessly she lifted her hips so he could pull her underwear down her legs, and then tugged at the waistband of his boxers.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly from between her legs. He was looking at her like she’d hung the moon in the sky, and she reached up to run a hand through the longest part of his hair, and nodded with a small smile.

“I’m sure.”

He took a deep breath and leaned down to kiss her very slowly as he pushed inside of her. She sucked in a breath with a small gasp, eyes widening, and then sliding closed slowly before they opened and locked on his. His vision flipped sideways and got fuzzy for a second before she gave the skin on his arms a squeeze, bringing him back down to earth.

Her eyes were huge as she stared at him, never looking away as he pulled out of her and pushed back in. Her nails scraped against his skin as his head fell forward into the crook of her neck, forehead resting against her collarbone. A euphoria like she’d never experienced settled over her, as he ran a hand down her side, fingers gripping the skin of her hip. He picked his head up , lips moving across her neck and jaw until he found her mouth in the dark.

She was dizzy as he kissed her till she couldn’t breathe but she never wanted him to stop. His skin felt feverish under her fingers as she grazed them up his spine, a thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his back as he moved above her. He was panting in her ear, forearm braced on the bed by her head.

“Courtney.” He breathed, but she silenced him by kissing him, a heat settling in her stomach that began to spread. She broke away from him for a second, breath coming out ragged as he began to push faster, hand resting at the base of her throat. She gripped his skin, nails sliding over the sweat as her legs started to shake and she began to orgasm.

It was beautiful to fall over the edge with him. He kissed her right through it, wrapping her up in his arms. She felt like she was levitating as his movement slowed and his weight pressed down on top of her. Her heart was beating loud, but slow, and mixed in with his as they laid there wrapped up in each other.

After a moment of silence when the breathing had slowed he picked up his head to look at her. He was smiling so sweetly at her she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Are you-okay?” He asked finally.

“I’m good. Are you?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, pulling out and laying next to her. He pulled the blanket up so she could cover her chest with with and settled in on his side next to her, eyes peering into her own.

“What?” She asked.

She looked so beautiful, messy hair, smudged liner, sheet pulled up in his bed, a place he never thought he’d see her. His emotions were running high and he could barely speak in full sentences but he managed a soft “Your beautiful.”

She smiled softly and reached forward to push a strand of hair off his forehead, before she scorched forward and pressed a very chaste kiss to his lips.

“Are you going to stay?”

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded and grinned, patting the bed and chuckling a little as she wriggled down under the blankets next to him. His eyes slid closed and his body got heavy but he waited until her own eyes closed. He wanted to touch her, hold her, pull her close but he laid there just watching her, wondering if this was a dream until his eyes got too heavy to keep open.

Courtney wasn’t sleeping.

She waited until she heard his breath even out and then opened her eyes to find him sleeping, lips slightly parted, one arms under his head and the other resting across his side.

She sat up and looked down at him, reaching a tentative hand out to stroke the side of his face. He didn’t stir, and she eased off the bed, pulling her clothing on. She gave him one last look before she made her way quietly through the house and out the door.

The alcohol had worn off long ago, and the night air covered her up more than she already was. Her body felt like rubber as she slipped into her car and started it, backing out and pulling on to the street quickly so she could be gone in case he woke up.

Roads were empty, the occasional car passing her as she reached her house. Her legs felt heavy and she sat in her idling car for a moment before she slowly got out and made her way inside. Her house was quiet, just the creaking of the floor as she walked to her bedroom, leaving the lights off.

She sat on the end of her bed staring at the wall. The only sound to be heard was the ticking of the clock from her living room, and the owl that lived in the tree outside her window.

She felt bad leaving like that, and she knew when he woke up and she was gone he’d be upset. But she couldn’t stay there. She felt like she was suffocating and couldn’t believe what she had done. She absently pulled at the hole in the knee of her jeans and sniffled, eyes moving across the room to the picture she had of them.

She loved Jeremy with all her heart. She had always taken him and his friendship with her for granted, and now that she knew he’d felt this way about her for all those years she felt terrible. He had watched her with Brad and kept quiet because he wanted to make her happy. He’d do anything to make her happy. A tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away.

Not only was she going to lose him but over something so stupid. He was the best person she knew, and she was hurting him every single day and even though she didn’t know it, her relationship with him felt tainted. Like she’d ruined it without even trying, because she didn’t deserve him. He was so kind, so sweet and too pure for someone like her who was so blinded by dating other guys, and a stupid high school boyfriend who never gave a shit about her that she couldn’t see Jeremy waiting there, heart in hand all these years.

That fact was staring her right in the face. She tipped over sideways and another tear ran down her nose. Her heart hurt, and her lungs felt like they were deflating as she started to cry. She was dizzy, and nauseated thinking of the end of Jeremy in her life.She had ruined this, just like everything else.

Across town,Jeremy turned over and made to wrap his arm around Courtney. Last night had been amazing, and his heart felt so full it could burst, but he paused when he felt the bed was empty and cold. He lifted his head and looked around.

It was early, the sun wasn’t quite rising yet, but it was light enough that he could see she wasn’t in the room. He threw the blanket off and stood. He didn’t want to panic. Maybe she was in the bathroom, getting water, in the living room.

“Courtney?” He called out as he walked through his house. When she didn’t answer, he looked out the front window to find her car was gone.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest, like the puncture of an arrow that had been shot straight through his heart, and he let out a long breath and closed his eyes.

Courtney was gone.

Everything he had been afraid of had finally come true because he’d said his feelings out loud. Things why he’d kept it to himself all these years. Now she was gone, out of his house and his life maybe forever. He’d never been in more pain. He thought about calling, getting in his car and driving to her place but he couldn’t move. His feet may as well have been glued to the floor.

He braced a hand on the doorframe and squeezed his eyes shut.

What had he done?

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honeyeyesworld · 11 months ago

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Let’s do that hockey|| Jack Quinn

(None of the pictures are mine, I found them on Pinterest credits to the original owners)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Yourusername

Liked by jeffskinner, buffalosabers, and others

Yourusername: ✨I am a photographer and I took these pictures ✨

Good luck tonight boys!! Score goals and stuff. As they say in hockey, let’s do that hockey 🤪

Also should I be worried about Owen taking my boyfriend 🤨

Load to view comments

User1: LMAO NOT THE PICTURE OF OWEN AND PEYTON 💀

jeffskinner: Thank you for capturing all of my good sides 🤝

User2: The best photographer in the nhl 🤩

peytonkrebs: Y/N??

Yourusername: Peyton??

peytonkrebs: what did I do to deserve that picture 😭

User3: idk if I want to be Owen or Jack 😏

jackquinn19: I would never leave you for Owen baby

owenpower_: that’s not you said last night 😏

jackquinn19: shhh 🤫

Yourusername: ???

User5: thank you for blessing us with these pictures 😫

Yourusername

Liked by jackquinn19, dylan.cozens, and more

Yourusername: MY BOYFRIEND SCORED!! 🥳🥳

Good job on the win boys 👏👏 beyond proud of how you guys played today, and congrats to the love of my life for scoring a goal 🥰🥰

Load to view comments

jackquinn19: All thanks to you angel I love you so much ❤️

User7: y’all I was at the game tonight and Jack pointed at her after he scored it was so cute 😭

owenpower_: OUR boyfriend scored thank you very much

jackquinn19: all for you Owen 😘

Yourusername: 🤨🤨🤨

buffalosabers: Thanks to our good luck charm 😉

•

( @lvkehvghes )

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velvetpucks · 11 months ago

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Slapshots and Contracts Blurb:

———

On a crisp winter day, Sidney Crosby stood proudly at the edge of the ice rink, his skates gliding effortlessly. Beside him, two eager faces, mirrors of Sidney's own features, stared at the ice with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

"Alright, you two, first lesson: balance," Sidney announced, crouching down to their level. His children, adorned in tiny Penguins jerseys, listened intently.

As they tentatively stepped onto the ice, Sidney guided them, his hands gently supporting their wobbly movements. Laughter echoed across the rink as they discovered the joy of sliding on the frozen surface.

Izzy, bundled up with their newborn in her arms, watched from the sidelines with a contented smile. The newest addition to their family cooed, seemingly captivated by the sight of the icy playground.

Sidney, still on skates, called out, "Now, let's talk sticks and pucks!"

He handed each child a miniature hockey stick, their eyes lighting up with anticipation. With a puck at their feet, Sidney demonstrated the basics, his children following suit with adorable determination.

Izzy, holding their newborn close, couldn't help but marvel at the picturesque scene – her husband imparting the love of the game to their little ones. It was a snapshot of family bliss, the rink becoming a canvas for memories that would last a lifetime.

As Sidney continued the lesson, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the winter landscape. The Crosby family, united by the magic of hockey, reveled in the joy of shared moments, building a legacy of love and passion on the icy canvas of their own making.

———

#sidney crosby x you #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby #hockey x you #hockey x reader #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl players #nhl #pittsburgh penguins

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pogueprincess · 2 months ago

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Thawed Out

summary: Frustrated after losing a game to your brothers’ team, you let Cregan take his frustration out on you.

pairing: Modern!Cregan x Targtower!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: Explicit smut, semi-public/rough sex, spit, p in v, creampie, 18+ MDNI

note: Sorry it’s been a month since I’ve posted!! Watch this flop asdfghkl

Your eyelids flutter as Sara lightly dabs glittery eyeshadow onto them with her ring finger.

“Try to hold still,” she tells you, just as your reflection catches her eye in the mirror that hangs on the back of her closet door.

“Oh no,” she frowns, making note of the jersey you’re wearing, “Cregan is not going to like that.”

The jersey — all black, has no distinctive feature of any team, but it does have the name “Targaryen” etched onto the back, and 01 on the front, which is your brother Aemond’s hockey number.

Cregan is number 13.

“Targaryen is my last name,” you remind her, “and besides, Cregan is the one who wants to hide me. If he wants me to wear his jersey to games, he will have to make me more than just a fuck buddy,” you shrug.

Her lips turn downward into a frown, but she nods her head in agreement with you.

Very few people are aware of your relationship with Cregan. He’s a good guy with a big heart, the complete opposite of a fuckboy or a player. The main, if not only, reason why the two of you decided to keep things a secret was so you wouldn’t have to deal with the backlash from your brothers.

Cool air whips against your face, and tensions are high with only a few minutes left remaining of the game.

You watch on eagerly as Aegon pulls a move that is supposedly illegal, but the ref’s don’t seem to count it. Resulting in your brothers’ team winning the game.

You can’t help but wince as you watch Cregan rip his helmet off and make a beeline toward Aegon on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Aww,” your eldest brother frowns in response, “Run home with your tail between your legs!” he calls. Cregan grunts in response while the rest of Aegon’s teammates, Aemond included, howl maniacally like wolves. Making a mockery of Cregan and the rest of his team.

You roll your eyes at the scene and push your way out of the stands and through the crowd.

You pick at your fingernails nervously as you wait outside the locker room, refusing to enter until the remainder of Cregan’s teammates pass you by.

The smell of sweat fills your senses as you enter the abandoned locker room.

“Cregan,” you call, “baby?”

The locker room is quiet and dim. The only audible sound in the room is the faint buzzing of one of the poorly lit fluorescent lights.

Cregan is sat on one of the benches, his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You reach your arms around him.

“Hey,” you offer, “for what it’s worth, you did great.”

“I’m just so fucking pissed off!”

Cregan’s deep voice echoes through the locker room as he throws his stick to the floor. As mentioned earlier, Cregan’s a stand up guy, but his temper is a force to be reckoned with; and nothing sets it off quite like losing a hockey game.

“I know you’re upset baby,” you state empathetically as you dig the pads of your fingers into his shoulders. An attempt to massage the tense tissue, he all but grunts in response.

“You wanna take it out on me?”

“What?” He asks in a deadpan.

“Your frustration … you should just take it out on me.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows at this but he takes no time to react. He stands up quickly, his thick frame hovering over yours before he shoves you against the lockers abruptly. Gripping at your chin with force, he demands you to open your mouth. You oblige and he spits directly down your throat, you swallow obediently with a content mewl as wetness pools at your center.

A pathetic “please” is all you’re able to muster out to him as he stares at you hungrily.

He takes a seat on the bench, tugging his uniform pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one swift motion, exposing his cock.

His calloused hands lift you onto his lap with haste. A shiver runs through your body as he yanks down your leggings and underwear in a quick swoop, causing you to hiss as cool air fans your cunt. It isn’t long before Cregan’s warm hand is cupping you, his fingers playing in your slick.

You want to cry out when he removes his hand from you but once his hands are at your thighs again, spreading you open, you feel the throbbing head of his cock prodding against you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, egging him on, “come on, I said, take it out on me.”

A growl erupts from his chest as he forcefully spears you down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes flutter shut and you try your best to suppress a moan as he begins to split you open.

He continues with unrelenting thrusts while his grip on your hips only tightens, taking full control.

“Fuckin. Targaryen’s,” he says through gritted teeth, harshly slapping the swell of your ass. Your head snaps up as you glare at him disapprovingly.

“Obviously not you baby,” he coo’s reassuringly, running his fingers along the red handprint that’s forming, soothing the pain before kneading at the tender flesh.

“It’s just— Gods, do they fuckin’ rile me up,” he mumbles as both his hands make their way to your waist again, helping him thrust into you even harder.

“I know, baby, I know” you whimper, pressing your forehead to his as he continues to fuck into you at an unrelenting pace.

“But you know just how to make me feel better, don’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out as he perfectly angles his cock against your cervix.

“Yeah you do, this sweet little pussy is all I need.”

You can feel the tension building in your body at his words, your breath coming out in short gasps as he expertly moves inside of you.

His fingers trail down from your hips to your cunt again, sending hot waves of electricity through you.

His intense, grey, gaze never leaves yours. With each thrust, you feel yourself on the brink of insanity. Each drag of his length has you closer and closer to the edge.

Cregan moves with determination, his body pressed hard against yours as he takes you to new heights of pleasure. His digits finally find the apex of your thighs and pinch at your throbbing bud, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Urging him on as he expertly works his fingers over your most sensitive spot. Each touch sends waves of pleasure through you. With one final pinch and a flick of his thumb, you’re cumming around him — gasping and trembling as the walls of your cunt tighten around his length.

His breathing comes labored and heavy, his eyes squeezed shut as he chases his own release. His own hips stuttered as he felt you continue to pulse around him. Unable to keep his composure any longer, he lets out a loud groan and spills himself inside of you, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuckin’ Targaryen’s,” he drawls, this time his tone is filled with appreciation.

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heartorbit · 1 month ago

Text

figure skating set right now please. thanks

#project sekai #pjsk #prsk #emu otori #proseka #tsukasa tenma #nene kusanagi #rui kamishiro #wxs #wonderlands x showtime #GUYS I AM PUTTING OFF WORKING ON MY COSPLAY SOMETHING STUPID. im tireddddd i like sleeepingggff i want to play and drawwwww #after work I literally ate a giant bowl of mac n cheese and climbed into bed. lifestyle choices of a 9 year old #anyways i want figure skaitng set. bad. PJSK HAS A WEIRDLY LOW NUMBER OF ACTUALLY WINTERY SETS... like 3. kind of.#i have some thumbnail sketches but im kind of stumped on composition for them. my idea was a nene focus set #(IF HER NEXT FOCUS ISNT PHANTOM OF THE OPERA THEMED INWILL DIE. BADLY. THEYRE GOING TO AN OPER AHOUSE. PLEADBR)#originally my idea was for nene to be biting a medal i was very sold on it bc i love nenes competitive side #however her outfit is so nice i want it to also be part of the art .. its heavily inspired by that one iconic eunsoo lim dress #from her somewhere in time program iirc. im really undatisfied with emus dress tbh my origimal idea was to give it a phoenix look #but a lot of the firebird/phoenix skating programs have very sleek dresses and i want emus to be fluffy. the balance is hard ..#and since i want her program song to be once upon a dream from sleeping beauty i swerved to make it look a bit like auroras ? but again #it definitely feels like the weakest of everybodys ... maybe i just love her too much and want her to look the best. sorry wxs.#tsukasas outfit is supposed to look like a shooting star. easy. program music moonlight sonata 3rd movement like from dazzling light. easy.#actually i like takahashi daisukes moonlight sonata program its a medley of the 1st and 3rd movement.. i think the calm at the beginning #is best. maybe smth like that.. for his card inhad him doing a haircutter spin but again. the outfits good i want the outfit visible. damn.#ruis the one im very set on even now. girl why are you so phantom of the opera.#it has a lot of beautiful programs to reference but the outfit i didnt really have any solid reference i kind of just balled #my main idea was to make it look a bit like both christine and the phantom.... gender Fluid.#my yapfest... i should be SEWING!!!!!!!!#despite my yapping im not that well versed in figure skating i cant really distinguish jumps i just like it . and medalist #i only do normal skating. bc i played hockey for like 7 years LOLLLL inlove skating though Heart.

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trevuorzegras · 9 months ago

Text

━╋ MY RIGHT TO BE HELLISH, part three

jealous by nick jonas

summary: In which the rumors of Quinn’s little brother Jack, and y/n y/l/n make him realize he’s jealous. (part 3/4)

pairings: quinn hughes x actress!reader

platonic!jack hughes x reader. social media au

faceclaim: dove cameron

prev part

next part

newestupdates

newestupdates: Actress Y/n Y/l/n and NHL star Jack Hughes seen walking together in New Jersey. New couple alert? Thoughts? #baewatch #y/ny/l/n

tagged: yourusername, jackhughes

liked by _quinnhughes, njdevils, and others

yourusername: we are strictly friends, please do not stretch my interaction with a FRIEND to be something it is not.

↳ jackhughes: completely agree.

user1: this is a little weird.. yeah?

↳ user2: they’re celebrities get over it 💀

↳ user1: doesn’t mean people should assume who they are and aren’t dating. it’s weird to invade their personal lives like that.. user2

jackhughes: we are strictly platonic, this post is very uncomfortable for the both of us. we kindly ask to stay out of our personal lives.

liked by yourusername

user3: they’d be cute though

↳ _quinnhughes: no

*this comment has been deleted.*

user4: quinn is NOT slick 😭😭

user5: i feel so bad for them, this is so invasive.

lhughes_05: now this is weird

liked by yourusername, jackhughes, and others

_quinnhughes: they aren’t together

↳ user6: just say you want that to be you 😭

↳ _quinnhughes: i want that to be me

*this comment has been deleted.*

user7: HE BEING A LITTLE TOO RISKY RN 😭😭

trevorzegras: yeah let’s not

↳ user8: trevor y/n + quinn shipper confirmed??

↳ trevorzegras: 😉 user8

user9: TREVOR SHIPS THEM 😭😭

user10: this is so disrespectful, take the post down atp. they can’t even live their lives without you guys butting into it.

yourusername

yourusername: me & jack are laughing AT you guys btw!! two people can be friends without dating. for all my jack & quinn girlies, here’s a snap i got from jack a few days ago. enjoy 🌤️

tagged: jackhughes, _quinnhughes

liked by lhughes_06, canucks, and others

user11: THE WAY SHE USED THE PAPARAZZI PHOTO FROM THE GOSSIP PAGE LMFAOOA

user12: she’s so unserious i love her 😭😭

jackhughes: FRIENDS!! forever

↳ yourusername: JACK LMFAOA YOU SOUND LIKE A MIDDLE SCHOOL GIRL

↳ jackhughes: okay i was trying to be nice 😒

user13: wait cause quinn been looking extra FINE lately..

liked by yourusername

↳ user14: THE WAY SHE LIKED IT LMFAOO

user15: her and quinn would be cute.. STOP

liked by lhughes_06

↳ user16: wait cause you’re onto something

↳ user17: luke liked this comment?? 🤔

lhughes_06: no pic credits for the second to last picture?

↳ yourusername: oh so you’re done lurking in my comments now, lukey??

↳ lhughes_06: no idea what you’re talking about, have you taken your crazy pill? yourusername

↳ yourusername: OH OKAY. lhughes_06

user18: why is no one talking about how good y/n looks??? let’s focus on her for a moment 🫣

liked by _quinnhughes

↳ user19: atta boy quinn with the slick comment like

user20: oh quinn is LURKING 😭

user21: what’s with the hughes lurking & liking in these comments..

user22: SHES SO UNBOTHERED LMFAO

next part

one more part, then the quinn series is complete! don’t be afraid to request using my ask box!

find my navigation, here!

check out my nhl masterlist, here!

taglist | @literatureluster @bunbunbl0gs @alwaysclassyeagle

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holy-puckslibrary · 7 months ago

Text

— 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬.

pairing(s) — dilf!ERIK JOHNSON x ex-nanny!wife!reader (established); REESE JOHNSON (oc) x ex-nanny!stepmom!reader (platonic / familial)

wc — 4.7k synopsis — family weekend forces reese’s worlds to collide. results are… mixed note — i just really love reese. that's it :) and how dilfy does mr johnson look in that gif good lord

the nanny (series masterlist) | main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — age gap relationship (erik and the reader, established), vulgar college boys with no respect, busy-bodies who cannot mind their own beeswax, possessive!erik, pregnant!reader (not discussed in detail), sweet bby reese in peril :(

REESE JOHNSON has a problem.

It’s the sort of anxiety-trodden predicament that could’ve been soothed into nothingness had he spoken up sooner. He didn’t because he couldn’t. That was part of the problem.

And now it’s too late—for solutions or comfort.

The teen, now a second-semester freshman at the University of Denver, had long since adjusted to the heightened scrutiny of his family in the early days of your relationship with his father. Everyone online had to throw in their two cents on the “illicit affair.” Even people who didn’t give a shit about hockey (evidenced by their inability to name a single team) felt they had a right to weasel their way in. While irritating and uncomfortable, the harsh reads didn’t bother him for too long because Reese knew the truth.

He also knew how unnecessarily ruthless people could be when they had a screen to hide behind. The son of a prominent figure in professional sports, Reese knew people stared at him through a very particular lens. It veered toward a rosy sheen every so often, but mostly it was smudged glass. Like a fish tank whose walls were muddy with the greasy impressions spectators left behind. Strangers offering commentary on his father’s life, and by extension his too, was part of the gig.

Frankly, the aftermath wasn’t much different than before. Only the subject matter changed. If it wasn’t thinly veiled insults about Erik’s waning career or his prior inability to keep a girlfriend, it was overly critical evaluations of Reese’s prowess or lack thereof and, unsurprisingly, comparisons between father and son. Without fail, the verbiage and tone implied competition, hinting that their healthy bond was only a bit of showmanship to hide the rocky resentment beneath.

This weekend is different. Sure, his teammates and friends had already gotten ample face-time with both of his parents, as well as his kid sister, but never all at once. Though they all did their best to coordinate, busy schedules rendered a revolving cheering section for Reese Johnson.

This weekend—family weekend—will change that. By some stroke of luck (or a cruel twist of fate, the jury's still out on that one), everyone would be here… together. And that’s not to say he isn’t grateful for their effort or that he isn’t excited because he is. Reese is thrilled to share this new slice of life with his loved ones. It’s just that…

Reese knows how it looks when they venture out into the world.

Not that his dad is exactly old or even old-looking. In the same way you aren’t questionably young. Still, the age difference is noticeable. Before you were more than a nanny to the Johnsons (if you were ever just a nanny to begin with), it was easier for on-lookers to assess the dynamic, and still, albeit seldomly, they would drum up gossip. Things got remarkably more awkward, though, after his father finally plucked up the courage to propose, and increased tenfold once Erik had a gold band to match. It was as if the wedding ushered in the open season on Johnsons.

More times than he cared to count, Reese found himself cupping Josie’s ears to keep his little sister from hearing jeering crowds calling their dad an old pervert and you a shameless gold-digger. No one’s had to explain what a “sugar daddy” is (or why it's the first thing that auto-populates when you plug ‘Erik Johnson’ into Google), but the burden would’ve fallen on Reese if he hadn’t left her in the car while he ran in to grab a takeout order last summer.

But Erik’s eldest isn’t just worried about his family existing outside the warmth and safety of their insulated bubble. His sleepless nights are filled with fear. Fear of the pain and sadness he’ll undoubtedly feel about it all now that he sees you less as his friend and more as a maternal figure.

Reese’s always been protective; it's led to many a fight with his own father and, sometimes, his own sister. He’s the first to rush to your aid and the strongest force in your defense. The habit, however, strengthened when his perspective shifted as swiftly as flipping a switch.

Suddenly, you weren’t just his dad’s girlfriend or the person who made him pancakes in the morning. Or the savior who dropped off his English paper because he was in such a hurry he left it on the printer. You were a confidant, someone he called for when he was in a bad spot or when he wanted to see the latest mind-numbingly bad action flick. When he asked his date to prom, it was you he wanted help from. When Reese was sick, your home remedies worked better than anything store-bought or concocted by his dad. When practice ran over, he could count on you to wait up with his dinner hot and ready, the rest of the house already fast asleep.

For the first time since he could remember, the Dad-shaped gap wasn’t devastating. It hurt like a bitch, but it was bearable because he had another adult—another parent—he could rely on. In every sense of the word, you were his mom.

And no one wants to hear disgusting lies about their mom.

However, Reese hasn’t called you that yet. At least, not to your face. In passing to his childhood friends or when referring to you with Josie, sure, and once or twice over the phone with Erik, but when he calls for you, he uses your first name like he's still your “nanny-kid.” But it's not for a lack of trying. It’s just that every time he thinks he’s worked up the nerve, the three letters catch in his throat like molasses, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.

Moments like those are the rare few he wishes he were Josie instead of himself. His jovial spitfire of a sister never missed a chance. During her lunch block with classmates, on the phone with their extended family, to strangers at Avs games, or on the sidewalk, the moniker slipped off Josie Johnson’s tongue like water down a slide. Their dad liked to poke fun, warning her to be careful so as not to wear it out from overuse.

Maybe it was the sister snuggled in your stomach that tightened his throat. The baby that could and would call you “Mom” with little effort beyond mastering the string of sound. The baby that would grow up not knowing you as anything besides her mother. It was a shade of ownership Reese felt hesitant to touch. No matter how desperately he yearned to.

The closest he’s come is penning in the title beneath your name on the lanyard that’ll hang from your neck for upcoming festivities. It was a small gesture. Still, it felt like too much and not enough all at once.

Reese is caught between wanting to honor the bond and all you’ve done with the accurate label and the fear of explicitly acknowledging it stirs in his chest. At least in this limbo of sorts, as cumbersome as it's become, Reese can have what he’s always wanted and keep you in his life without risking capsizing the boat with an awkward declaration. It’s an uneasy compromise, but it's the devil he knows. At least he knows what and when to feed it.

Reese hates that he’s letting his worries dictate his life. It's just… hard. No one tells kids how to navigate gaining a new parent or any of the baggage that unique situation carries. No one tells kids how to trust the position’s new occupant not to follow in their predecessor’s footsteps. In his heart, Reese knows you won’t run. But knowing that doesn’t shut down the nagging voice in the back of his mind. The one that drones on like a broken record, telling him that the burden of the word, knotted with his expectations, will be his family’s unraveling.

He couldn’t do that to Josie. To his dad. Or to you and the little sister you’re carrying.

So, he’ll stomach it. For how long, Reese isn’t sure. But, for now, he’ll stand on the outskirts of the minefield, bidding time.

"Johnson! Your whole family's coming, right?" Kody, a junior defenseman from Fort Collins, yanks Reese from his downward spiral.

The last place he wants to be right now is out in the world. The last thing he needs is to cannonball himself back into the fishbowl. Even if the phantom audience never spoke to him, sometimes their heavy attention pushing into his back was enough to send Reese reeling.

But he made a promise to make more of an effort. To be more social, to have more fun—to take life a little less seriously.

In his mind, if he was at school to learn and play hockey, there was little room to wiggle. Sure, Reese has had his fair share of adolescent recklessness and could lean toward boyish immaturity at times, but at his core, he was a rule-follower. A responsibility fiend with a penchant for playing the white knight. A stickler for structure. When given the choice between a teenage dream and a full-grown reality, the freshman chose the latter nine times out of ten.

Reese Johnson’s moral compass weighs down his back pocket; he feels most at peace when things fit neatly into their proper boxes. Good and bad, black and white. One or the other, never both.

Stress and anxiety exacerbate his mental rigidity. And he’s been so fucking far from zen lately.

Reese would’ve broken the stupid promise if it’d been made to anyone besides you. So, when a few of the upperclassmen on the team appeared at his dorm with an invitation to get pizza, he begrudgingly accepted.

It isn’t so bad. Far from awful this far. Definitely not the worst way to spend an evening. His teammates were alright enough guys, and their girlfriends weren’t as callous as he’d expected. Reese just found it hard to connect with them, a situation that couldn’t be more different than his previous team experience.

With his childhood friends, it all clicked. Fell into place without much real effort from any of them. There was an awkward period, but it ended within the first month and, honestly, had more to do with prepubescent cringe than anything.

An entire semester came and went, and Reese still felt like an outsider. When he looked out onto the ice, he saw a sea of strangers. They had different interests, different priorities. Inside jokes he wasn’t in on. Ones he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in on. Even their sense of decorum was foreign. He was well-acquainted with profanity and vulgar jibes, but Reese’s neck still occasionally heats at their… colorful chirps.

But maybe this will be a good step, Reese thinks to himself as he clears the nerves from his throat, making room for an answer to Kody’s question.

“Uh, yeah. My parents and my little sister,” he nods. The blip of quiet that follows coaxes out further details. “They’re going to skip the mixer-campout thing tomorrow night because of the baby, but they’ll be at the student fair and our scrimmage the next day.”

It feels odd to talk about his family. The words, somehow both intensely personal and casual at the same time, taste funny on his tongue. Reese’s stomach clenches, suddenly too aware that he’s never really had to do this before, the small talk. Back home, everyone knows everyone. There’s little to talk about by way of mundane facts because there’s no need; it would be incredibly redundant. His friends from home wouldn’t think to ask if his family was coming, nor would they nudge him to share their schedule. They’d just know.

Reese is aware that this is a silly thing to get worked up over, or even care about at all. He knows it’s part of the process. Part of making new friends is letting them know you. Telling them about yourself and your life, and all the people in your life. Especially the ones you love. Offering up bits of yourself in exchange for bits of them. Still, it's unsettling. Like he’s inviting a group of strangers to pass judgment on his unconventional family.

No one’s said anything, but Reese already feels defensive.

And rightly so, he’d soon find.

"That was quick."

Lane, a senior forward from some beach town in California, draws first blood. The quip seems innocuous, but the shit-eating grin undermines any plausible deniability. Even without his smug expression, they probably would’ve understood the implication lurking below the surface anyway.

It isn’t the isolated comment that burns the tips of Reese’s ears. It’s the fact that he’s never spoken about the circumstances or the timeline of your relationship with his father. Reese hasn’t tried to hide anything, but he certainly hasn’t been forthcoming either. For all they knew, you could’ve been Josie’s biological mother. A long shot, but feasible enough if you didn't know any better.

But somehow, this kid from out of state knew. Knew that, by “traditional” standards, it was a little soon for his parents to be welcoming a new life.

"Can you blame him? Hot young thing at your beck and call?” Kent, a sophomore from outside of Toronto, cuts in before Reese can.

The lecherous glint in the winger’s tone makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t need to look up from his half-eaten slice of Hawaiian to know his mouth matches Lane’s.

“Fuck, dude. I would've knocked her up before she dragged me down the aisle. But, I've heard Viagra massacres your swimmers, so maybe that wasn’t in the cards for Ol’ Johnson.”

The group, crowded around a hodgepodge of tables, descends into a fit of snickers and profanity.

Reese contemplates leaving until a manicured hand gently squeezes his arm. Callahan Graham blinks up at him, a sweet smile tight on her rosy mouth. Callahan “Callie” Graham, Lane’s on-again-off-again girlfriend of three years. They’re “off” right now, if he’s remembering correctly. Not that it matters. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Reese’s chin dips in gratitude.

From across the table, Callie’s roommate, Greer, pipes up over the commotion. “I hope I'm as cute as she is when I'm pregnant."

"Me too," Bree, one of the other girlfriends, sighs dreamily into her Diet Coke. "I couldn't believe how pretty she looked the last time she brought Josie to watch you play, Reese. If I was pregnant and holding down a two-kid fort by all by myself for most of the year, I know I'd look it. But I guess that’s just another perk of true love, isn’t it? Beauty in spite of it all.”

Kent snorts. “True love…right.”

Reese’s molars pinch together. Beneath the table, he picks at his nails. It hurts, but it's the distraction he needs right now.

"It's not like being a trophy wife is a real job anyway, so I'm sure that helps. Just lie back and spread those pretty—"

Reese’s fist finishes Lane’s sentence. As badly as he wants to put it through the douchebag’s face, he (thankfully) had the foresight to direct his anger downward. It was the succinct thwack! of his hand against the table that cut the lewd thought off prematurely.

Reese is a striking juxtaposition; hardened jaw, sharp eyes, pinched mouth—silent. Only his chest moves. Shallowly, the accent on the exhalations.

For a moment, everything is still. It’s nice. While it lasts.

Kody is the one to crack the ill-fated stalemate. Trepidation peeking through the tiny cracks in his smooth confidence, he approaches like a hunter would an agitated deer, “Loosen up, Reese. We're just having fun. And, if anything, it's a compliment."

Reese openly glares, unconvinced.

Kody persists, deadset on being the one to subdue the beast. “Come on, even you have to admit your dad's locked down a fuckin’ tenner. A real win for Team Geriatric, I’d say. You should be proud of him, kid.”

This isn’t the first time someone’s prodded Reese about your physical appearance. He wasn’t blind. He knew you were attractive, but you’d never entered that part of his brain before. Ever. It's as if his subconscious preemptively locked you away in the same box as his dad and kid sister, or any other family member. But they weren’t asking if he thought you were pretty, not really.

The omnipresent “They” wanted to know if he thought you were attractive the way he thought Pedro Pascal or Olivia Rodrigo was attractive. They wanted to know if he felt the way his dad felt about you. They’re probing for a twisted scandal, a sick taboo love triangle. As if they weren’t already gorging themselves on the age difference or the boss/employee origin story.

They wanted more. They always wanted more. They wanted to take one of the best parts about Reese’s life and fuck it up.

His teammates are proving themselves no different than the losers populating Twitter.

“She ever read to you a story before bed?” Lane again.

Then Kent, in quick succession. “Tuck you in nice and tight, and come running when you had a nightmare?”

There’s barely enough time between the two to squeeze in a meager answer. Though Reese surmises that’s by design.

Innuendos are funnier when they have a single target in the audience to fly over. At least, to people with cheap senses of humor. Easy laughs are no accomplishment when they weaponize the feelings of an innocent bystander. Even in his anger, Reese wouldn’t have humored them with a doe-eyed reply of feigned ignorance. It wasn't earned.

“If I got to spend all of high school being coddled by a rocket, I'd still be milking that shit. Maybe if you had, she would've fucked you instead of your dad."

Reese’s brow shrinks to a contemptuous pinch. It wouldn’t take much for him to be reacquainted with his dinner; it’s already halfway there.

As he looks over at Kody, he loses what little hope he had that he’d find a place in this friend group. He hasn’t found his people yet, on the team or in general, but Reese is certain they’re not sitting around him tonight.

"How far along's your mom?" Callie seizes the conversation knowingly.

Briefly, her pale eyes slice pointedly in the direction of her… whatever Lane is to her, and then back to Reese, warmth restored.

"Uh, almost seven months? But Josie and I were both late, so Dad thinks we'll have to wait until the end of summer until she's here. Maybe they’ll share a birthday.”

"She?" one of the freshman girls squeals, clutching her companion’s forearm in excitement.

"Yeah," Reese says bashfully, head dipping to conceal the grin tugging the corners of his mouth. The meat of his cheeks ache with joy. “Two sisters."

"I give Johnson Sr. six months before he puts the moves on Nanny 2.0,” Lane’s whisper pierces the lukewarm calm that settled the table at his… Callie’s hand.

She kicks his shin. Hard.

"You really think the old timer's game is that reliable?" Kent picks up the slack between open-mouth chews.

And Kody is not far behind, “He's decently famous and moderately rich. That was enough the first time, so why wouldn't it work for the second? Or, Junior, maybe this next one can be yours—if you pull your head out of your ass in time, that is."

Reese is done. Has met—no, exceeded his limit. He doesn’t have to sit here and take this. Yeah, it would be better for the locker-room culture if he stuck around, but a boost in morale wasn’t worth the decimation of his pride.

His goodbye is simple but effective. The deafening screeeeech! of his chair sliding back on the linoleum.

The sidewalk is blurry beneath his feet as he trudges back to safety. Whether it's the tears’ fault or how quickly he’s running, Reese can’t be sure. All he knows is that he needs to be as far away from them as possible.

He needs… he needs…

Reese’s fingers tremble defiantly while he fishes for his phone. He continues to fight with them, shoving his key into the door and pushing it open with the other as he scrolls through the call log. He slams the world out and hits the green icon.

“Reese? Are you okay?” your groggy, but no less sweet voice flits through his phone.

Only two rings.

Reese’s shoulders melt, comforted by the familiar warmth of what home sounds like. But his mouth remains frozen, stuck.

You allow a few beats of silence to lapse, giving him ample space to answer if he is able and wants to before speaking again. “Do we need to come up tonight?”

He blinks, attempting to wash away the salty film over his eyes to read the clock above his desk. 1:37 AM, the angry red letters read.

Guilt seeps into the mix of nasty emotions monopolizing his body. The acidic cocktail begins its ascent of his tender throat.

You shouldn’t be up right now. Not this late, not when his sister’s made you an insomniac for so much of your pregnancy. Not because someone was mean to him.

Reese feels like an asshole. An inconsiderate asshole bothering you with his problems in the middle of the night, knowing you’re already sacrificing your weekend for him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for waking you and the baby, and probably Dad, too. I—It's nothing, really. It can wait. We can talk about it when it's not, y’know, the middle of the night.”

“Reese, no one sets off the alarm on my Bullshit Radar faster than you do. You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent. Talk to me, Reeses Pieces. You know I won’t be able to go back to sleep knowing you’re not alright.”

Reeses Pieces. The nickname, said with such casual affection, is like a magic wand.

“Uh— I-I, um… I had a, um, a r-really bad night… and I— and I just really needed to hear y-your voice, Mom.”

It slips out. Slips free. It just… slips into the mix with all the other words like it belongs there, too. And it does. It feels right. Reese feels a twinge of satisfaction. Regardless of the circumstances (and the night he’s had), it happened.

It finally happened.

The floor crumbles a little and gentle flames lick at Reese’s cheeks. His phone feels as though it's floating up and away from his clammy palm. He’s telling his fingers to tighten their grip, to hold on. They hesitate, and when they finally decide to obey, it only makes matters worse. He fumbles, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. The elephant easing down onto his chest is making it hard to focus, to think, to listen.

“Reese? Did I lose you, bub?”

He blinks himself out of the daze. “Hmm? No, I—I, sorry. I’m here.”

“Oh, Reesey. I was just saying I was glad you called then. I mean, I always love it when you call. Even when it’s to tell me you sent your Airpods through the washing machine. Again.”

Reese barks out a phlegmy laugh.

Note to self: the rice hack only works the first time you let your electronics go for a swim.

Second note to self: this reaction—this non-reaction is better than any teary blubbering or callous rejection. Normalcy doesn’t require a reaction.

“You can always, always call me. Especially when you’re having a rough time. Even when it's the middle of the night. My main priority in life is making sure you’re safe and happy, you and JoJo. And the peanut sitting on my bladder. And the 6’4 blanket-hog snoring like a hacksaw beside me.”

“Maybe we should get Dad a sleep study coupon for his birthday,” Reese teases.

He feels better now. You, and finally being courageous enough to be vulnerable, was the medicine. Reese feels lighter than he has since you dropped him off in September.

You snort. “I’ll gladly pay to see your dad covered in wires. But, as much as I love laughing at his expense when he’s none-the-wiser, that's not why you called. Spill it.”

He does. The spiel tumbles out like an overdue avalanche, and Reese hardly realizes how quickly he’d been talking until he finishes with burning lungs. You listened patiently, letting him get it all out without interruption. You were good about that, knowing when someone needed room to rant more than they needed interjections with guidance or commentary. Reese usually fell in the first category, tonight being no exception.

“…I just don’t get why they found it so funny. Or why they even thought to say it in the first place. It's so...gross.”

He listens to you sigh and knows you’re doing it through your teeth. You’re probably massaging the waves of frustration between your eyebrows, nose scrunched. Josie calls it your ‘Dragon Face’ because of the way frustration contorts your features, but Reese adopted the term into his own lexicon because it almost always appeared when someone threatened the safety of your family. Like him, you’re generous with your protection. Fierce without delay.

“Because you aren’t them, Reese. You’ve always had a strong sense of right and wrong, respectful and not. And you’re rarely swept up by group-think, if ever. Those things may feel like a curse right now, but I promise they’ll be superpowers one day.”

“I wish I could fast-forward to that day. This sucks,” he groans, tossing himself backward onto his twin bed.

“It does suck. Majorly. Still, even if you had time travel in your vast arsenal of powers, I’d tell you to stay put, Reese. Part of college is learning how to deal with immature people, building up a tolerance for their bullshit as you grow stronger and more confident in yourself.”

“But I’m not strong. I ran away crying like a little baby,” Reese croaks into his pillow. A warm saltiness tickles his eyelashes.

“You removed yourself from a bad situation, and you let yourself feel your feelings in the present tense. Those are both huge wins in my book,” you counter.

Your voice is louder now, stronger. Like coaxing Reese—coaxing your son out of a pit of self-pity breathed all the energy you lacked for the better part of a year back into you. The subtle shift whittles away some of his earlier guilt.

“It takes guts to do that, Reese. Most people spend years trying to learn what you did instinctively. Some people never learn to do it at all. And don’t tell anyone, but I’d put money on Kody, Lane, and Kent being some people.”

Reese snorts. “I know you’re right, but I think what’s actually bugging me is that you guys’ll be subjected to that shit this weekend. It’s one thing for them to say it to me, but it’s another to say it to you or in front of JoJo. I hate that people care so much about us and our business that they can’t keep their mouths shut. If you don’t feel comfortable coming now, I would totally understand. Fuck, if I were you, I’d never visit again. Maybe I could come home this weekend instead?”

“Reese, as sweet as that is, the only thing that’ll stop me from coming this weekend is early labor, not chauvinist pigs.”

“You shouldn’t even have to hear it, though. And besides, won’t smiting college kids stress the baby out?” Reese asks, worry tearing through his voice despite the lighter tone.

“Do you honestly think your dad will let them get more than a couple words out?” you ask through an airy chuckle.

For the second time tonight, someone else speaks before Reese can.

Erik’s voice is muffled and gravelly, but the protective bite—the very same one that took hold of Reese at dinner and you just moments ago—is loud, “They’ll keep their mouths shut if they want to keep whatever teeth they have left.”

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

patrons gained access to this piece on MAY 24, 2023 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

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yuujispinkhair · 3 months ago

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME - Masterpost

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Warnings: 18+, smut, fuckbuddies to lovers, semipublic/public sex, dirty talk, creampie, oral, handjobs, fingering, hickeys, mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09 - coming soon

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Accompanying art for this series:

Smoke break with Sukuna by @sweetlandspos

Sukuna during practice by @samaraxmorgan

Thank you so much for those beautiful and sexy pictures!!

To get added to the taglist please comment or send me an ask (18+ only) ♥️

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #jjk x reader #{🏒❤️} hockey au

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lecsainz · 11 months ago

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part 2 for ethan please 🙏

WRONG ROOM. PART TWO

˒ ⌕ masterlist

parings: ethan edwards x umich student!reader

type: fluff

PART ONE

The morning sun cast a gentle glow over the snow-covered campus as Ethan and Y/N met for breakfast at a cozy diner. Conversation flowed effortlessly between them, laughter mingling with the clatter of cutlery and the hum of morning chatter.

As they finished their meal, Ethan hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with a sudden idea. Fidgeting with his coffee cup, he looked up at Y/N, a curious glint in his eyes.

"I need to test out a theory," Ethan blurted out, his words surprising even himself.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. "Okay?"

Ethan took a deep breath. "I require your help."

"How so?" Y/N asked, intrigued by his sudden seriousness.

"You need to kiss me," Ethan stated, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess himself.

Y/N blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Ethan flushed, regretting his impulsive request. "Sorry, it's stupid. Forget I said anything."

But Y/N's expression softened, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Wait, are you suggesting we need a scientific experiment to prove something?"

Ethan nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and hope. "Yeah, something like that."

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Alright, let's entertain this theory of yours. But just so we're clear, this is purely for science, right?"

Ethan couldn't contain his smile. "Absolutely, for science."

Leaning in, Y/N cupped his cheek, her lips meeting his in a gentle yet purposeful kiss. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the world fading away around them.

When they finally pulled back, a stunned yet exhilarated expression adorned Ethan's face. "So, uh, any conclusions from our experiment?"

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Well, I'd say that theory definitely needs further testing."

Ethan laughed, relief flooding through him. "I think you might be right about that."

#ethan edwards x student reader #ethan edwards x you #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards fluff #ethan edwards oneshot #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards #umich x reader #umich blurbs #umich imagine #umich fic #🏒. — hockey works ⋆∴#hockey x you #hockey x reader #hockey imagine #umich hockey #hockey fic

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jackhues · 10 months ago

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in love love - alex lyon

notes: this is part of @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, and written for the amazing @2manytabsopen !! this is my first time writing for alex and honestly first time writing in a while, but i had lots of fun with this and i really hope you like it <33

summary: 3 times the world realized alex was in love with you + the 1 time you realized it

word count: 2.7k

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

gif not mine

you and alex had known each other your whole lives. as long as you could remember, it was you and him. sure, you both had friends that came and went, but at the end of it all, it was the two of you who made it through.

you made it through your elementary years, all the way to college, and now even beyond. despite graduating early, alex was still in contact with many of the friends you both made in university. it was a good thing too, because you could just go together to all the events you were invited to.

“i don’t know what i was thinking, making so many friends,” you muttered to yourself, nursing your drink.

it was late at night, and you were no longer the same person you’d been at college. instead of pulling all-nighters and partying with the crowd, you wanted to be in bed once it was dark.

“are you tired?” alex turned to face you. “we can go home if you want.”

“that’s okay,” you smiled tiredly at the tall boy. “it’s not like we get to meet up with them often. it’s been a long time since we were all out. we can stay.”

“you sure, love?” he asked, eyebrows knit in concern. “you look ready to drop.”

“i’m fine,” you promised. at his unconvinced look, you continued, “really, i’m okay. i think i just need another drink.”

“i’ll get you one,” he offered immediately, heading up to the counter to get your drink.

unbeknownst to you, some of your college friends were giggling to each other, wondering if the two of you were finally together.

“i mean, they have to be, right?” one of them whispered. “they’ve both got heart eyes for each other.”

“alex isn’t even trying to hide it,” another one laughed a little. “good for them, i guess. i always knew he liked her.”

you smiled once alex returned with your favourite drink, handing it to you.

“a special drink, for a special lady,” he grinned.

“thank you,” you took it from him, taking a sip.

indeed, all you needed was a little something in your system to get you going. you took alex’s hand, leading him to the dance floor where you ended up spending most of the night.

after some time, alex broke away from you, drifting to the edge of the dance floor and allowing himself a moment to admire you.

“so? you two finally together, huh?” one of alex’s old teammate’s wiggled his brows, sliding up next to the goalie.

“what? me and y/n? no — no, we’re just friends,” alex insisted.

“oh, really?” he asked, looking between the two of you. “i guess i haven’t seen you guys in so long, i forgot how close you were.”

alex nodded, despite the lump in his throat, before excusing himself to get some air.

your friends exchanged glances at that interaction — at alex running away, and at you now dancing with another friend, clueless to it all.

“well shit,” one of them muttered. “he’s in love with her, and he knows it.”

“but does she?”

ii.

“here, let me get that for you.”

“thank you,” you smiled as alex took the plates from your hands, placing them in the sink.

you were at a family friends house, inviting alex along to celebrate with them. since most of your family lived further away, you often celebrated the holidays and other events with them. alex was someone you’d known your entire life, and by extension, your family and family friends knew about him too.

after years of trying to convince you to bring him along to one of these gatherings, you finally caved in. it wasn’t that you were embarrassed of alex. if anything, you were a little embarrassed of your family friends.

not in a bad way. they were just loud and talkative and much more rowdy than alex’s family. you were worried how well he’d fit in if he came along.

so far, he had proved you wrong, getting along with absolutely everyone there. the younger kids kept trying to steal him to play games, the older aunts and uncles doted on him — everyone loved him.

you took the broom out, getting ready to sweep around the house a little. everyone was busy cleaning up after themselves or gossipping with each other. might as well make yourself useful.

“here, let me do that,” alex appeared next to you, reaching for the broom.

“it’s alright, i got it,” you assured him. “besides, you’re the guest. go sit and talk with the older people. i’ve got this.”

“y/n,” he said your name in a strict tone. “give me the broom, i’ll sweep up around here. you’ve been on your feet all day, take a seat and let me do this.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, realizing he wasn’t going to budge. “okay, go grab the dustpan. i’ll sweep, you collect it, okay?”

alex sighed, “all right, fine. but you’re sitting down and hanging out with everyone after this. no more work for you.”

“alex, that’s not how it works—”

“if someone needs you to do a chore, i’ll step in,” he said in a strict tone. he softened his voice, “you did a lot today, okay? i can do a little bit of work around here too. i’m not entirely useless, you know?”

you laughed a little, “i can think of multiple instances where you were entirely useless.”

“right now,” alex amended. “i know how to sweep and do the dishes and stuff. i couldn’t help you out in the morning, but i can now. so let me, please.”

“okay, okay,” you raised your hands in surrender. “i’ll sweep and then take a seat. happy?”

“very,” he grinned, happy that he’d finally won this argument.

behind you, one of your cousins shared a look with their sibling, wondering if anyone else just saw what happened.

“that’s so weird,” one of them whispered.

“i wonder how long it’ll take for them to get married,” another thought aloud.

“oh, he’s in love love,” another one muttered.

they looked at you, sweeping the floor with a little smile on your face, and behind you, alex watching you with the same smile on his face. it was so painfully obvious, just by the way he watched you.

“i hope she realizes it soon.”

iii.

“come on, come on, come on,” you grabbed alex’s hand, pulling him along.

there was a new cafe that opened down the street, and based on the reviews, it had some really nice hot chocolate. alex was the one who’d found their page on instagram, forwarding the message to you.

so of course, you dragged him along for your first visit.

the interior of the cafe was chic, with a checkerboard floor and a cozy interior. you immediately claimed one of the couches at the store, scanning the qr code for the menu.

before you even opened it up, alex spoke, “you’re getting a hot chocolate?”

“i didn’t even look at the menu yet,” you rolled your eyes.

“yeah, but it’s why you came here, right?” he asked. “to try their french hot chocolate?”

you opened your mouth to argue, but simply sighed. “yeah, that’s why i came here.”

“that’s what i thought,” a satisfied smirk appeared on alex’s face. “so, one french hot chocolate for you, and one cinnamon hot chocolate for me.”

you gave him a thumbs up in approval, letting him place the order at the counter while you saved your seats. you pulled out your phone, scrolling a little as you waited for alex to return.

near your seat, an older woman smiled to herself, waving to her own husband at the counter giving their order. she remembered their earlier days together, when her husband first learned her order and immediately went to the counter. it might be a really small thing to someone else, but she’d associated that act with his love for her. she wondered if one day you’d do the same thing with alex.

“i’m back,” alex announced his return as he took a seat next to you.

“yes, i can see that,” you replied.

he flicked your forehead, “congrats, you have eyes.”

“you’re such a child,” you laughed.

“you’re just jealous because you’ll be old and wrinkly while i stay young and hot.”

the two of you kept it together for three seconds, before bursting out into laughter.

your waitress smiled to herself, placing your drinks on the table in front of you. the cafe was new and it didn’t get many customers yet. seeing you two in here laughing loudly warmed her heart.

she wished she’d get to experience that kind of love one day, with someone who looked at her the way alex looked at you. as if he’d seen the entire world and decided you were his favourite thing in it.

“enjoy your drinks,” she smiled at you two, heading back.

“thank you,” you smiled at her, reaching for your hot chocolate.

you smiled at the sight of how delicious the hot chocolate looked, reaching towards it as if it were gold. to you, it might’ve been.

the second you took that first sip, you sighed in content, melting back into the couch and closing your eyes.

“so, it’s delicious?” alex asked, taking a sip of his own. he blinked in surprise, “okay, wow. this is pretty good. you know, y/n, i think you were onto something when you fell into that hot chocolate obsession.”

“i’m always right,” you grinned, turning your head to look at him.

alex caught his breath at the sight of you. after all these years, and you still managed to make him speechless with just a look.

“always,” he merely agreed.

you smiled triumphantly, going back to your drink. around you, the people whispered — they always whispered the same thing, but you never heard it.

“they’re so cute,” one person would whisper.

“oh, he’s so in love with her,” another would say.

“too bad she doesn’t even know it,” one would sigh.

“she knows it, she just doesn’t realize it,” another would respond. “she doesn’t even realize how in love she is with him.”

and alex would hear it all, and he’d keep his mouth shut. because whether you knew or whether you didn’t wasn’t the question.

the question was whether you’d do anything once you did realize.

iv.

you looked at your caller i.d., trying not to cry at the sight of alex’s face.

even though you saw him a day ago, the sight of him was so comforting to you. especially after the shit day that you were having at work.

“hello,” you answered, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“hey — wait, what’s wrong?” he asked. you could imagine the furrow in his brow, the exact face he was making as he continued. “are you crying? y/n, are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you promised, taking a deep breath. “it’s just — it’s been a long day alex. i’m happy you called, i needed to hear your voice.”

“anytime,” alex responded immediately. “i’m always here for you, you know?”

“i know,” you smiled to yourself, because he was. “what’s up with you though? why’d you call?”

“i was just calling because i was bored,” he responded a little sheepishly. “i wanted to bother you a bit.”

“instead you’re comforting me,” you laughed a little.

“it’s an honour to do so,” he responded, followed by a small thwack sound. you laughed, imagining him pounding his chest to play the part, even though you couldn’t even see him.

the two of you continued talking for a bit, until you finally ended the call. you took a deep breath, looking at the time on your phone. two more hours, and then you were free.

you locked the door behind you, placing your bag and keys down.

you were finally home, and ready to put this long day behind you. except now that you were inside, you could hear some noise from somewhere in your house. music was playing softly and a familiar voice was singing along. the smell of something baking made its way to you — banana bread, you thought happily. after a long day, you needed something like that to cheer you up.

you followed the source of the noise, stopping at the sight of alex in the kitchen making banana bread and singing along to the song. you watched him for a minute, smiling to yourself as he spun around and put on a little show.

when the song ended, you clapped, laughing as alex jumped at the sudden noise.

“bravo, that was beautiful!” you cheered. “encore, encore, encore!”

“ah, as much as ii would love to do so for my wonderful fans, the banana bread i am baking for a very wonderful woman will burn if i don’t take it out now,” he spoke in a posh accent before reaching into the oven, pulling the tray out and setting it to cool.

you looked around at the kitchen, noticing for the first time how spotless it was. you’d left some dishes this morning because you were in a rush, and you were pretty sure you made a mess last night while cooking dinner. you were normally pretty clean, but you were just in a lazy mood these past few days.

“did you clean the kitchen?” you asked alex.

he looked up at you, shrugging to himself, “yeah. when you said you had a bad day, i wanted to make you feel a little bit better. so i came over, cleaned a bit, and cooked.”

“thank you,” you whispered, your heart heavy with too many unspoken emotions.

“you’d do the same for me,” alex shrugged.

it was true. you had done and would continue to do the same thing for him. people often thought you two were just friends, but you were so much more than that. you were everything for the other. alex was the one you’d run to when you got good news or bad news. you were the one alex would find for comfort or to share his joy.

you never questioned it, but you finally realized that somewhere along the way, with the jokes and the laughter and the unbreakable friendship, love had also blossomed.

“y/n?” alex called your name. “are you okay?”

you blinked up at him, realizing that you’d basically zoned out in the middle of the kitchen. lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t know how to reply.

and so you blurted out, “are you in love with me?”

alex froze, staring at you for long enough that you began to wonder if you wildly miscalculated. maybe those lingering gazes and longer than necessary hugs were something you imagined. maybe you two were just friends in his eyes.

“and if i was?” he asked, he met your eyes, not a hint of hesitation in them. “if i was in love with you for as long as i could remember, longer than i even knew what the word meant? that i’ve been waiting for you to notice for years now? what would you say?”

you looked at him, trying to tell if he was joking. it didn’t look like he was.

“i’d say why didn’t you tell me years ago?” you responded honestly. “that way, we’d already be past then. and then… and then i’d tell you to kiss me already because i’ve been in love with you for a long time too.”

alex stared at you, trying to figure out if you’d actually just said that. you hear practically the gears turning in his head, you could imagine the questions he was asking himself.

“it’s not a dream,” you smiled, answering his biggest one.

“oh thank god,” he muttered to himself, reaching you in two long strides.

you gasped as his hands grabbed your waist, your own arms reaching up to grab his shirt. without a moment of hesitation, alex leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss just as sweet as the confession.

oh, he’s in love, you thought to yourself with a little smile.

it’s okay, because so were you.

#naqia writes!#alex lyon #alex lyon x reader #alex lyon imagine #alex lyon imagines #alex lyon blurb #alex lyon fic #detroit red wings #detroit red wings fic #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #hockey x reader #hockey x you #hockey fic

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