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happy74827 · 11 days

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Love Me Like A Sailor

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: It’s rare that dreams can turn into reality, but it isn’t impossible.

WC: 5537 (trust the process friends 🙏)

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends + Lovers, Wade POV, Mentions of the Past {TW: Self-Deprecation, Wade having insecurities, Not Proof Read}

Where are all the fics of this man? I can barely find some for him and it’s making me go crazy. Like, your honor, I love him. Gimme more.

Anyway, I figured I would write a Wade fic that’s around the same premise as my Wolverine one (since SO MANY OF YOU ate it up), so if anyone actually finds this… you’re welcome 🫶✨

『••✎••』

He was always in love with you. Always.

Wade Wilson had never been the smartest tool in the shed, the prettiest girl in the room, or even the tallest guy. In fact, he was a little bit of the opposite. He had a face only a mother could love, he was always cracking jokes at the wrong time, and his voice was too loud and too obnoxious for his own good. And while all of these traits might be endearing when it came from a handsome man with a voice as smooth as silk, the same qualities were irritating at best when it came to Wade.

He knew that. He wasn't blind. He knew he was annoying and ugly and too loud. However, there was one thing he was certain of: Wade Wilson was in love with his best friend.

Wade Wilson was not in love with just any best friend. He was in love with the only person who had been there since the beginning, the only one who had stuck with him through everything he had been through.

He was in love with you.

And you were in love with him, or so he hoped. He couldn’t tell because you were the most gorgeous, sweet, caring, thoughtful, and wonderful person on this planet, and he was none of those things.

He could barely bring himself to think of the words that could be on the tip of your tongue whenever he was around. He didn't deserve you. He was damaged.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but hope—hope that you would return his feelings, hope that maybe you felt the same way, hope that you could be more than just best friends.

Every time the thought crossed his mind, his heart would pound in his chest. He was always so close to telling you, to confessing, but then he would stop himself. It was a constant back-and-forth.

One night, after a particularly long night of kicking names and taking asses, Wade decided to visit his gal pal, and by visit, he meant to break into your house and steal your food.

So, like Krampus, if Krampus had a thing for chimichangas instead of children, Wade climbed through your bedroom window as it had been left unlocked. You had told him a thousand times to use the front door, but Wade couldn’t do that. If he did that, he would feel too normal. And as much as Wade enjoyed breaking and entering, he would be damned if he made it boring for himself.

He only wished he could stick the landing.

In his defense, he had only fallen off the window ledge by an inch or two. However, the thud that his body made when he landed on the hardwood floor of your bedroom was louder than he had anticipated, and it sounded like an explosion.

A big one, too, like someone who had a little too much Taco Bell and took a nice walk through Barnes & Noble. Oh, yes, he knows exactly what you book nerds do when you’re approaching that infamous bathroom sign.

But, regardless of his loud entrance, he jumped back up to his feet and brushed the dust off his suit before making his way to the kitchen.

The smell of vanilla wafted through the air as Wade entered the kitchen and saw nothing but cleanliness and order. He opened the cupboards and frowned at the lack of food.

This was a problem.

A major problem.

There was nothing he could eat. No tacos. No chimichangas. No candy. Not even a damn Dorito.

What kind of animal would do this?

Wade had never been so offended. He was going to have to talk to you about this. You couldn’t have a guest over and not have snacks.

He decided to call you. Maybe you could talk some sense into yourself.

You answered after the second ring.

You didn't seem surprised at all to hear his voice on the other end of the line. Wade was used to your nonchalance when it came to him and his shenanigans. He loved it.

You always kept him on his toes, and the fact that you had become desensitized to his crazy was both amusing and infuriating.

And it really worked out to his benefit tonight.

Because when he started complaining about the lack of food in your apartment, instead of telling him to get his ass back to his place and stop breaking into yours, you told him to sit tight.

That you would be right over.

And that's how Wade found himself waiting for you on your couch, his leg bouncing with anticipation as he waited for you to get here.

His heart was pounding against his rib cage as his fingers drummed a nervous beat against his thighs. He so wanted to marry you the moment you walked through the door.

He would make sure that was the first thing out of his mouth.

And when you handed him his bag of Checkers, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Wanna get married?"

He fully meant it, too—the whole shi-bang.

Till death do us part.

Till the cows come home.

Till the last dance.

And every single second after.

You played it off as one of his usual antics. One of the jokes that Wade always cracked whenever he was hungry or when you surprised him.

Of course, why would you think he was being serious? His life was a full-blown comedy, a slapstick routine that would have even the biggest comedian crying with laughter.

Wade knew that. But, for once, he wished his life became less of a joke and more of a fairy tale.

A happily ever after. If they even exist.

It seemed life always had an extra curveball for him. A twist. Something unexpected. Something that made him feel even less human.

He could never catch a break even if the closest thing he could imagine to heaven was standing in front of him.

So, with a heavy sigh, Wade took the bag of Checkers and plopped himself onto the couch, hoping to enjoy the sweet taste of victory in the form of sugar and carbs.

And then you did something that made him fall in love with you even more.

You sat next to him.

Wade didn't even try to hide the wide grin that spread across his lips as he watched you sit beside him, a smile of your own on your pretty face.

You were beautiful. So, so beautiful.

Wade had always known that. He could tell the moment he first met you. He could also see the panic, the fear, and the terror in your eyes when you saw him.

And he was hot then, too—supermodel level.

Fun fact: the reason why you two met was that Wade might have gotten the names mixed up on his gold card and had ended up at a very fancy restaurant, and, well, his idea of the target was the one serving him.

You.

It was a bit awkward.

But, after you realized he wasn’t going to murder you and that he had no idea how much a glass of water cost or how his steak was literally the size of the entire restaurant, you started talking.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

It was love at first sight. In his mind, at least. He couldn’t imagine life without you.

Wade was in deep.

And the way you were looking at him right now, a glimmer of happiness in your eyes, a soft smile of contentment on your face, and your body turned towards him, well, it made him melt.

Wade had always been a sucker for romantic movies and romance novels, and the way you looked right now was straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie.

He wanted to kiss you.

No.

He needed to kiss you. To feel your lips against his. Your hands in his. The warmth of your body. Your heartbeat.Everything.

He needed it all.

Call him a horny bastard, but you looked absolutely beautiful sitting there, eating one of his favorite fries from the bag.

Wade had always loved the little things. He loved watching you eat. He loved seeing you play with your hair. He loved it when you babbled to yourself. And, right now, you were doing the cutest thing ever.

You were holding the bag out to him, a fry halfway to your mouth, your eyes wide, and a bright smile on your face. You looked so happy.

Wade was happy, too.

"Want some?"

Nuggets. He didn’t even know Checkers had nuggets.

He hadn’t seen these bad boys since high school. And even then, they were the cheap knockoff, frozen food nuggets.

These were the good shit.

"Oh, baby, I'd take you and all your chicken nuggets to prom," Wade said as he reached forward and plucked a chicken nugget out of the bag.

He popped it into his mouth and let out a satisfied hum.

You giggled and shook your head as you pulled the bag back towards yourself and set it on your lap.

"You're a dork, Wade."

"The dorkiest."

"That's true."

You took a sip from your soda and leaned back, letting out a content sigh as you did so.

"Thanks for coming over," Wade said as he grabbed his burger and began eating.

"Well, I do live here," you replied, your eyes darting toward the bag of nuggets. "I can't really go anywhere else."

Maybe you can’t, but he can go inside your—

"I was actually thinking we could spend the night together," you continued, oblivious to the naughty thoughts running through his mind. "We haven't done that in a while."

Wade nearly choked on his burger.

He swallowed quickly and let out a small cough before grabbing his soda and downing the entire thing. For once, the liquid soothed his parched throat.

"I mean, uh, yeah, sure, totally. It'll be just like the old days. You, me, Netflix, and chilling."

He couldn't help it, okay? Flirting was just one of the many things that Wade Wilson did naturally.

Just like his regular occurrence of having 207 bones in his body.

It wasn't his fault that his words came out suggestive. He fully meant it—every word.

Every single flirtatious word that tumbled out of his mouth. Every joke that came out as a compliment. Every compliment was more of a sexual innuendo than anything.

It was who he was.

It was the only way he knew how to talk to people. Especially the person with whom he was in love.

He couldn't just go up to you and tell you that you were the most amazing person he had ever met, or that your smile was so beautiful that it made his heart skip a beat, or that he loved the way you looked at him when you were happy, or the way your voice would turn into a squeal when you laughed, or the way you would blush when he flirted with you.

He couldn't say all those things because they were cheesy and cliche, and you would think he was lying.

So, he made jokes. He made innuendos. He made you blush and giggle and roll your eyes.

Because that was the best way to get through to you.

That was the only way.

Or, at least, that's what he had thought.

Now, the truth was a bit different. The truth was that Wade was scared. Scared that you wouldn't feel the same way. Scared that he would ruin everything. Scared that you would leave.

So, he flirted. And joked. And tried to act like everything was normal. Like he was still in his younger, good-looking, more handsome days. Like if he made himself delusional enough to believe he was still attractive, he could convince himself that he would always have a chance.

Because he wasn't, he was old, ugly, and damaged. And no one, not even someone as beautiful and kind and wonderful as you, would want someone who had gone through the things he had.

Who had done the things he had.

You didn’t show any signs of disgust or resentment when he showed up on your doorstep for the first time after his incident or even the next time. Or the times after that.

But Wade couldn’t help but feel like it would eventually happen, and you would eventually get tired of him that you would realize how damaged he was. How broken he was.

That he wasn’t worthy.

"Remember that party?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. You had a fond smile on your face as you looked up at the ceiling. "When you snuck into my room and convinced me to sneak out and have fun with you?"

Yes, yes, he did. He remembered it far better than you. And he knew that, even though you hadn’t said it, he knew that this was a memory he treasured more because… ironically, it was the only time you had ever done something rebellious.

You had been so shy and timid and afraid to stand up for yourself. You had always been afraid of going against the grain, of doing what other people told you to do.

Wade had always wondered why. He had always wondered what was holding you back. So, when he was able to drag you out of your shell and make you experience a night, you would never forget, well, he was a happy man.

It was also the night he realized things that he had never been aware of before. Physically things.

There was a moment he remembered vividly. The two of you were about seconds away from getting a picture taken by some drunk dude with a Polaroid camera. Wade, being the good friend he was, had wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close.

In that moment, he happened to glance at you when the flash went off and, well, it was a picture perfect moment.

We’re talking slow-mo, people becoming blurred background characters, a spotlight shining down on you two, his heart pounding in his chest, and butterflies flying around in his stomach.

The only thing missing was a sappy love song playing in the background.

He had always assumed that the sudden fluttering feeling in his stomach and the way his heart was pounding was due to the fact that he hated his picture being taken.

Or that he had accidentally eaten the wrong thing at the buffet.

But, as he stared at you, he started noticing every single detail. How pretty your eyes became with the extra glint of the flash. How your smile was as bright as a baby’s bare ass. How you were so oblivious to everything else except for him.

How the world suddenly became a blur, and all he could focus on was you.

How the music faded away. How he forgot how to breathe. How his heart felt like it was about to explode.

It was at that moment Wade realized, for the first time, what love was.

Wade had never been the one for grand gestures. He didn't know how to express his emotions in ways other than jokes or sarcasm. So, when it came to romance, he always preferred to keep things simple.

Like now, break-ins and food were his version of a romantic dinner.

However, when it came to the actual feelings part, the emotional part, and the vulnerable part, Wade had a hard time with that.

This was why, when you turned your attention towards him, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

"Why haven’t we ever dated?"

You blinked.

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, you responded, "You’re really affected by getting Checkers, aren't you?"

Wade could see the amusement in your eyes and he could hear the faint traces of humor in your tone, but, somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that you were avoiding the question.

He couldn’t tell if it was because you didn't want to answer him or if it was because you didn't know what to say.

And, for a brief moment, Wade hesitated to push you. He didn't want to make things uncomfortable. He didn't want to put you on the spot. He didn't want to scare you away.

But, then again, if there was anything Wade Wilson was good at, it was pushing people to their absolute limit.

So, he pushed.

"Skip the foreplay," he said, his voice firm and steady but not unkind. "Seriously, why have we never dated?"

Wade kept his eyes on yours, his expression serious, his body tense. He waited for you to speak, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach churning.

You were silent for a long moment, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Because we're best friends," you answered finally, your tone matter-of-fact, almost as if you were stating a fact. "And, I… I just never thought about it.

Wade felt his heart sink. He knew that you weren’t lying. He could see it in the way your lips curled downwards, the way your eyebrows furrowed, and the way your shoulders slumped forward.

You were telling the truth.

It was a truth Wade didn’t want to hear.

He opened his mouth, prepared to apologize, to change the subject, to say something to make you laugh.

But, before he could utter a single word, you spoke again.

"Besides, it's not like you've ever been interested."

There was a hint of bitterness in your voice, a tinge of hurt in your tone.

It was a subtle reminder that Wade had a track record of being a player. A serial flirt who was never serious. A guy who flirted with every girl, who was constantly on the lookout for the next big thing.

He was the type of guy who would rather have fun than get attached. Or, at least, that's what everyone assumed.

At the tone of your voice, Wade immediately perked up, his eyes widening in surprise and his heart pounding.

The guttural laugh that escaped his lips caught you by surprise.

You flinched slightly and stared at him, your mouth agape, your eyes wide, and your expression bewildered.

"Sorry," Wade apologized quickly, his voice quiet and strained. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "But, goddamn, that’s… oh, man. You do not know how wrong you are."

"Oh, don’t even, Winston Wilson, this is not the time for your jokes," you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Oh, middle names, huh? Are we there already? Because I have to say, I didn't think you were the type of girl who'd use a guy's full name to show her disappointment, but I have to admit, it's kind of hot."

Wade smirked at the annoyed look that crossed your face, but it soon faded as he realized that you didn't find the comment amusing.

Instead, you seemed to grow even more frustrated.

"Wade," you started, your voice soft and low, your tone filled with frustration and sadness, "I don’t want to get into it right now, okay? Can we please just eat our food and watch a movie or something?"

You turned away from him, focusing your attention on the bag of Checkers.

He couldn’t let you avoid this.

"Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk," he began, his voice soft and gentle, "I'm just… did you seriously never think I would want to be with you?"

You paused and turned to look at him, a confused expression on your face.

"Of course not; why would I?"

The genuine shock in your voice and the innocent look on your face nearly broke his heart.

He thought he was being the most obvious motherfucker on the planet, but apparently, you had been as blind as a bat.

"I've been flirting with you for years," he reminded you. "I've been complimenting you, and asking you to hang out, and giving you gifts, and—"

"That's just what you do, Wade," you interrupted, shaking your head. "That's what you do to all girls. You flirt with them. You ask them out. You do the whole charming and funny routine. I’m sure if you knew their addresses, you would break in too."

Okay, ouch.

You weren't exactly wrong, but still, that kind of stung.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he insisted, his voice growing louder, his tone firm.

"What are you talking about, then?"

"I'm talking about you, okay? You’re like the Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Or, if I'm being completely honest, you're like chimichangas and tacos, and not just because they're both delicious, but because, let's face it, I'm addicted to you."

Your expression remained neutral, your eyes still boring into his.

"You're my best friend," he continued, his voice growing softer, his tone gentler, "and, yeah, maybe I used to flirt with other girls a lot, but I don't care about them. I don't even really know them. And, besides, none of them would be able to look me in the eyes right now, the way you are."

"Don’t start with that," you mumbled, averting your gaze and looking down at the floor.

"Start with what?"

"Being self-deprecating."

"It's not self-deprecating," he said, his tone growing defensive. His whole confession was momentarily forgotten. "It's true. I am a walking nightmare, and not just because I look like Freddy Krueger and Leatherface had a baby, but also because I've killed more people than I've seen naked."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven't seen you naked," you retorted, a playful smirk forming on your lips.

"Hey, don't tease me. I'm already emotionally vulnerable enough."

You snorted, but your grin was soft and warm.

"Okay, sorry," you said, your tone apologetic, your expression serious, "but, seriously, though, you’re not a nightmare. Not to me. I mean, sure, you look like a melted wax figurine, and your personality is like a mix between a hyperactive 10-year-old and a 70-year-old alcoholic, but, you know, I don't mind."

"Oh, you're too kind."

"My point is, it doesn't bother me, Wade," you assured him. "And it never will."

"Even if it does," he said, his voice quiet, his tone low, "it won't change the way I feel about you."

Your expression softened, the playfulness fading from your eyes. You looked about ready to let out some tears, but Wade had a feeling that they weren’t because you were sad.

"Did you really think that all this time?" you asked, the softness in your tone making his chest tighten. "You wanted to date me?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Yeah," he answered, his tone casual, "you’re hot, toots. Even hotter than me in my prime."

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile on your face. "I don’t know, Wade. The suit does you justice."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that your way of telling me that my ass looks good in this thing?"

"Oh, Wade, I don't need to tell you that," you replied, smirking. "You know how amazing your ass is."

You’re right. Captain America had nothing on him.

He let out a deep breath, his eyes fixed on yours. He was silent for a long moment, just taking in your appearance.

You didn’t change much from that day at the party. Maybe your facial features matured a little, and maybe your body grew a little more, but besides that, you looked the same.

The only difference was the look you gave him. The softness of your eyes. The affection in your expression. The gentleness of your smile.

It was the same look he constantly gave you when he thought you weren’t looking.

It was the look of someone who cared deeply for you. Someone who cherished you. Who wanted to make you happy. Who wanted to be by your side forever.

Someone who loved you.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we kissed that night?"

He didn’t expect you to know exactly what he was talking about. Random question and all that. But, you surprised him once again.

"Why didn’t you?"

The question caught him off guard.

He was used to the playful banter, the light teasing, the random flirting. He wasn’t used to you being so forward. So blunt.

He was the blunt one. You were stealing his thunder.

"I was a cowardly bitch."

His honesty surprised both of you. He didn’t even plan on saying that. It was just the first thing that popped into his head.

It was true, though.

"Are you still a cowardly bitch?"

"I think so," he said slowly, "I think the main difference is, now I'm a cowardly bitch that knows what he wants."

He saw the way your cheeks reddened, the way you avoided his gaze, and the way you shifted your weight from side to side.

Wade Wilson may not be good at emotions, but he knew what those signs meant.

He was making you nervous.

He couldn’t help the small grin that spread across his face. He liked that. He liked that he made you nervous. That he made you blush. That he could make you flustered.

And, most of all, he liked that he was able to make you feel that way.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman was that shy and timid around him. Most of the girls he met were bold, confident, and loud… just like him.

He preferred your type, though. Sometimes, he even needs a break from his own obnoxiousness.

"So," he started, his tone casual, his posture relaxed, "you chill with the idea of ruining a perfectly good friendship and getting in a relationship with me? A crazy, scarred, murderous man who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut?"

He watched you take a deep breath, your eyes focused on his, a faint smile on your face.

"I'll consider it," you responded, your tone playful, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "but you have to answer one question first."

"Oh, a quiz? Can we have a prize for the winner?"

You chuckled.

"What's the question?"

You smiled.

"When you said that you've killed more people than you've seen naked, was that true?"

"Yes." He answered without hesitation. Something told him that lying was not an option here.

"And, when you said that the suit does me justice," he started, his tone casual, his eyes bright, and his smile mischievous, "was that your way of telling me that you want to see me naked?"

"You wish, Wilson."

"You're right. I do."

He didn't mean to sound so sincere, but, damn, the words just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Wade watched as you smiled and turned your attention toward the bag of Checkers momentarily, and, for a split second, Wade worried that he had taken things too far. That he had scared you away.

He shouldn't have been worried.

Because, when you moved the bag to the table and stood up, his eyes immediately focused on the way your lips were twisted into a smirk and the way your eyes were locked on his.

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t need to. He was already nodding along for whatever plan was formulating in that pretty little head of yours.

And, when you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close and leaning in close, it was like he was back at that party.

It was the same feeling.

The nervousness. The anticipation. The excitement. The anxiety. The giddiness. The rush.

Everything was the same, except this time, it was actually happening. And, he was sober.

As you pulled him in, he leaned forward and closed the distance between you, kissing you slowly, his eyes closed, his hands on your hips, and his lips pressed against yours. The mask that had been halfway covering his face was now tossed aside by him to indulge in the kiss fully.

It was better than he could have ever imagined.

You were better than he could have ever imagined.

But then, his insecurities kicked in, and the reality of the situation hit him. In his mind, he had imagined this moment with his younger, healthier self. The buffed-out arms, the clear skin, the perfect jawline. He still had that scruff of a beard in his mind, and the outlines of his eyebrows did not melt completely.

But, when he felt your lips against his, and the softness of your touch, the warmth of your body, the taste of your tongue, he was reminded that you didn’t picture him as he once was.

You were seeing him as he was now. Hairless, deformed, scarred, a hot mess, and a complete disaster. And you were still kissing him. You were still touching him. You were still here.

It was better than anything his imagination could conjure up.

Because, for once, reality was better than fantasy. For once, he realized that maybe his face wasn’t a face only a mother could love and that maybe his looks weren't a dealbreaker for a certain somebody.

You broke the kiss and pulled away, staring at him, your face inches away from his. He stared at you, his eyes meeting yours.

He was searching, trying to read you, trying to figure out what was going through your mind. See if you had those second thoughts. If you regret this.

All he found, though, was that pretty little smile of yours. The one that made his heart skip a beat. The one that made him smile back.

"Well," you started, your eyes sparkling with mischief, "if it's any consolation, Wade, I think our friendship was pretty fucked the minute I decided to give you my number."

He raised an eyebrow, a grin forming on his lips.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded, biting your lip and leaning in close. Your hand reached up and cupped his cheek, stroking the skin softly. He shuddered. "I should've known the minute I decided to become friends with a guy who would willingly call himself Deadpool that it was a done deal."

He smirked, his fingers dancing across the small of your back.

"I'll try not to feel too offended by that."

"Trust me, you shouldn't," you murmured, your hand sliding down from his face to his shoulder, resting there. "It's not a bad thing, really. I mean, it's pretty awesome to have a friend who can take a bullet for you."

He smiled.

"Damn right, baby girl."

Your hand slid down from his shoulder, slowly moving down his arm, until you were grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"But, Wade," you continued, squeezing his hand lightly, your eyes focused on his, a frown on your face, "you have to promise me something."

"Anything," he replied instantly.

You hesitated.

"Promise me," you started, your voice firm, your expression serious, "you’ll start to see yourself as I do."

Wade blinked, surprised.

That was not what he was expecting.

"You have a crush on my scars?"

He couldn't resist. He had to crack a joke. He was nervous. When wasn’t he cracking a joke?

He was also confused, but, hey, the joke was funnier.

"No," you replied, rolling your eyes, a faint smile on your face, "but I see past the scars."

"And, the crazy?"

"That too."

"And, the murderous tendencies?"

"Yes, Wade, everything," you answered, grinning, your eyes bright. "I see all of it, and it’s about damn time you do too."

"Yeah," he breathed out, "well, it's not as easy as you make it seem."

"Nothing is, Wilson."

You stared at him, the softness in your eyes, the gentleness in your smile, the affection in your voice.

He couldn't believe it.

But he couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face, the warmth that filled his chest, or the butterflies in his stomach.

"I'll try."

For one of the rarest times in his life, Wade’s tone was completely sincere. Not a hint of humor or sarcasm. Just pure honesty.

And, judging by the way your face lit up and the way you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close, hugging him tightly, you appreciated his sincerity.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, your eyes closing.

"Good," you whispered. "That's all I ask."

His arms wrapped around you and held you close, his fingers running through your hair, his nose buried in your neck. He took in your scent, letting it fill his nostrils, his senses.

And, for once, everything was quiet. Everything was calm. Everything was perfect.

He didn't feel the need to crack a joke. To make a comment. To ruin the moment. He didn't want to. He just wanted to sit there and hold you, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

He was content.

And he was happy.

Happy that you were with him.

And, most of all, he was grateful that he broke into your apartment and made himself comfortable on your couch.

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buckinghamwoodflooring · 2 years

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magiccarpet121 · 3 months

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What Are the Benefits of Investing in Quality Carpets and Flooring MI?

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hardwoodflooringco · 10 days

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Exploring Top Quality Hardwood Flooring: Elevate Your property with Timeless sophistication

With regards to improving the excellence and worth of your home, not many decisions are all around as significant as introducing top quality hardwood flooring. Hardwood floors are famous for their immortal class, strength, and capacity to add warmth to any room. Assuming that you're thinking about redesigning your deck, here's the reason putting resources into top quality hardwood flooring ought to be at the first spot on your list.

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ilydeku · 1 month

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teacher izuku...save me...i need more teacher izuku....

I WANNA BE SAVEDD

detention with teacher izuku

Detention serves as a form of a discipline, to ensure an unruly student would own up to their misdemeanors in a supervised setting. So why were you just sitting there smiling to yourself in earnest?

Well, quite frankly, it didn't feel like it in the first place.

Filling the empty air was the clock that ticked so painfully slowly and the subtle scribbles of a pen from the teacher's desk. But not just any teacher. You steal a quick glance at Mr. Midoriya from behind your arm in wonder of his occupacy, one of the many in succession. Was he looking at you? Working on anything? He was concentrated on something, probably grading, and his expression showed. His focus, the way his eyes trailed, narrowing at minor mistakes and the occasional grin when a paper read reasonably. Ugh, he just looked so good.

The missing assignments splayed out on your desk remained neglected, barely signed by your name and date in effortless strokes. Guess taking time to focus on your own happiness comes with a price. You sigh, propping your arm up on the desk and resting your cheek on your palm. Despite your best efforts to focus on the present moment, your gaze inevitably drifted toward Mr. Midoriya once again.

Within minutes, the classroom began to melt, with him remaining at the focal point. The stark lines of desks, the muted colors of the walls, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights all seemed to fade into the background. Mr. Midoriya stood out with a clarity that was both mesmerizing and disorienting. There was no doubting it, Mr. Midoriya was one hell of an attractive teacher, in all ways possible you might add. There was just nothing bad any student could say about him. He has everything. He embodied a blend of qualities that made him stand out perfectly: his sweet, engaging personality, the genuine bonds he formed with his students, and his dual legacy as a hero, both past and present.

The blurriness fades away and you're met with the piercing emerald gaze of Mr. Midoriya himself, his eyes vibrant and full. In panic, you quickly avert your eyes in embarrassment, your heart racing.

"Y/n," he directs, his gaze unwavering. After tons of X marks and overly excessive side notes that practically ran off the pages, the pen finally came to a rest as he filed his last graded paper and cleared his desk. "Have you finished any of your missing assignments?"

"Uh- no sir..." you mumble, staring at them with guilt.

"...Over the past 30 minutes, I've just finished grading all 20 of your class's assessments, y/n. Am I keeping you here for nothing?" He inquired sternly, but not so much of hard criticism. Even then he remained as patient and pleasant as he could be. In his voice lay genuine concern behind his words, a silent affirmation that he cared deeply about your progress and well-being. In a way, it stirred your heart into ache at the thought of disappointing him and that's exactly what you were doing. The knowledge that you were falling short of his expectations was crushing, but it also underscored how much you valued his opinion and how keenly you desired to meet his standards.

The silence that followed was thick with the weight of shame. Seconds ticked by slowly, and the distant chime of the hour alarm set on his phone seemed faint and irrelevant. Mr. Midoriya remained resolutely in his chair, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere between you and the floor, thinking. Instead of eagerly releasing you from detention so he could go home, he decided uphold his role as a teacher and take matters into his own hands.

Mr. Midoriya rose promptly from his chair, with almost deliberate grace. He approached your desk with a quiet resolve, his footsteps clicking against the hardwood floor.

"You know, the grading period for this semester's almost over, I won't even be able to accept these anymore soon..." He stands over you, his figure casting a long shadow across your cluttered desk as he reads through the titles of the assignments. They were WAY overdue, some by MONTHS. Your head hangs low over your desk miserably. Your lack of input concerned him, and he takes a deep breath, his concern evident as he searches for a way to offer genuine support.

"Tell me, what's going on, y/n? Really," Mr. Midoriya asks, his voice low and gentle. He doesn’t stand over you in a domineering manner but instead squats down beside your desk, aligning himself with your level. His posture is open and inviting as he gazes up at you with empathy, his emerald eyes soft and attentive beneath his dark hair.

"..."

"I won't understand unless you talk to me, dear."

DEAR!??///// Your mind screamed in fluster. There was really nothing meant behind it besides a comforting invite, but still!! It made your heart flutter!!

You take a shaky breath, trying to organize your scattered thoughts. "I guess I...I can't focus," you answer hesitantly, your eyes trailing down every detail on his face. The faint, almost imperceptible scar on his cheek adds a rugged charm to his otherwise gentle features. He looked even better up close.

"You can't focus? Why not?" He questioned with a slight tilt of his head as if the answer was somehow written on your face. With the way your face flushed, it practically was.

"..." His gaze was intense, yet so tender. It felt like he could see inside of you and those thoughts of yours that unapologetically swam around him. Maybe he did and you'd never know. You find yourself caught between the comfort he offers and the dizzying effect he has on you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he went ahead.

"It's okay," he says softly. "You don't have to tell me..." Mr. Midoriya stood up and glanced at the clock on the wall for a moment and exhaled, deciding his next course of action. He reaches his hands to shuffle all the papers on your desk and sort them into a neat, thick stack.

He sighs. "...I don't usually do this but, tell you what. If you can complete all of these and turn them in to me before class in 2 days, I'll give you full credit," he announces, carrying a hint of encouragement. He smiles warmly as your face lights up in shock and simply nods in confirmation as if telling you 'yes, I'm completely serious'.

"Oh, thank you sir, but...I don't think I can-"

"Of course, you can! You won't get anything done with a doubting outlook like that, dear. Have a little more faith in yourself!" His hand presses against your shoulder softly with a gentle caress and you nod in bashful silence.

AKJSUGDDFYAVDHJAS

"Alright, you're dismissed y/n. Enjoy the rest of your day, but please use your time wisely, okay? I don't wanna see my student in detention!"

Mr. Midoriya truly is a wonderful teacher (and an attractive man).

#YES SIR MR MIDORIYA IN FACT ILL GET THEM IN BY TOMRROW #w.midizu #izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x y/n #deku x you #izuku x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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t1red-twilight · 24 days

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request fluff <3: everything has been going great since the wedding anniversary.

Art and reader are relaxed (like enjoy their time in the bathtub, in a couch or in bed, whatever you want ^^ ), they discuss everything and nothing, especially Art who declares all the reasons why he loves her so much (her qualities, her flaws, the feelings towards her, he knows everything like what she likes/love language/type emotions, what she makes him strong and what he makes her strong, the fact that they are there for each other...) and why he married her... this little discussion warms the reader's heart, moved, that she says nothing since she listens to him attentively, felt moved by Art's words :)

affection

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cursing, non sexual nudity (bath)

notes: i imagined dilf!art, but there’s no kids. thank you so much for your request and your support! i followed your request closely, i hope you like it<3

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

you set down your things and took your coat off as you stepped through the threshold of yours and art’s home. the lights were dimmed, but you couldn’t find art anywhere.

as of late, art had become quite the househusband. he was taking a break from tennis to figure out where he wanted to take his career, whether that be continuing tennis, becoming a coach, or anything along the lines of just being a public figure. while he was straightening his thoughts out, he was really enjoying the domestic life.

“art?” you called out. at first you couldn’t hear him, so you repeated yourself. you proceeded to take off your shoes and walk further in. when you called out the second time, you heard him calling. you walked towards the sound of his voice, passing the flowers on the counter art had gotten last week for your anniversary.

it had already been three years since you and art had been married. you’d dated about five years before you both decided to tie the knot. everything had been, and was blissful. art was your person, and you liked to think that you were his.

art heard your feet softly padding down the hardwood down to the bedroom. you saw the light from the bathroom peeking out fro under the door. out of habit, you knocked before you entered. immediately, you heard art answer, “you can come in.”

he knew that you knew that it was okay to always come in, but you always insisted on knocking first. you know, just in case.

you opened the door to the bathroom and you were greeted with a quite content and pleasant sight. art was sitting in the balmy, warm bathroom in a bubble bath. the bubbles were just about up to his chin. on his face sat a cute little smile.

the floor was slick as you walked over to him. art spoke in a quiet tone, “hi.” you walked over to the side of the tub. when his body turned, the water swirled around him slowly.

“you look cozy,” you breathed. crouching down to his level, you brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. “honey, how long have you been in here?” you chuckled, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, noticing the thin layer of water on the edge of the tub.

he hummed while he thought for a second. “do you have the time?”

checking your watch, you stood. “it’s ten after nine.” you looked back down at him. he continued to think for a moment.

“eh, thirty minutes. give or take.” you chuckled lightly. how could the bathroom still be this warm after half an hour?

“is the water cold yet?” your voice held a playful tone; art just looked so blissed out and relaxed. you hoped he could stay like this forever.

“no. not even close. you want to come in?” you hesitated. you reached your hand into the water. just as he said, the water was just a couple degrees below scorching.

art wiggled his toes in what you thought was meant to be an enticing manner, but he just looked goofy more than anything. “c’mon, we’re not doing anything tomorrow.” he raised his eyebrows.

“yeah, sure. why not.” a grin spread across his face and you mirrored his gesture. “did you get a haircut today?”

“hmmm, perfect. i haven’t seen you all day. and, yes, i did. do you like it?” his response was casual, but he still had a slight furrowed brow.

your lips quirked up, “you look good with any haircut, art,” squatting once more to ruffle his hair as you spoke. his eyes held adoration for you that you only ever wanted to see from him. god, art was perfect. perfect for you, at least. and that was all that mattered.

“if you say so, i trust you. now get in.” he had a pleading look in his bright eyes, “please.” at his request, you began to strip yourself of your clothes. this was a casual act this far into your relationship. nudity wasn’t only sexual, but a calming act that brought you too closer every time. you set your clothes on the pile where art’s clothes sat.

you stepped into the bath with your left foot, then your right. art had scooted backward to make room for you. when you finally sat, you settled your body against his, your back

pressed against his chest. as soon as you relaxed against him, he wrapped his arms around your torso and held you close.

you leaned your head back onto his shoulder and sighed. god, if only every day could be like this. art leaned down and kissed your shoulder. “how was work?”

you chuckled sardonically. “same as usual. nothing super special or exciting.” you shrugged as best as you could. the warm water moved as art craned his head to look at you. “did you do anything today?”

he hummed in thought for a moment. “eh, nothing really. “i tried that new coffee place down the street. their lattes are pretty good. other than that, same old, same old,” art murmured.

you closed your eyes and just listened to him breathe for a moment. you could feel his heartbeat against your skin, it soothed you. you moved your arms to rest atop his. “the flowers are still doing good.”

“what flowers?” he questioned, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“the ones you got for our anniversary?” you said coyly. maybe the slow life was catching up to him.

“oh, yeah.” he laughed. “my bad. i zoned out for a second.” you could feel him smile against your shoulder. “they were expensive. i hope they don’t die too fast.”

“i can’t believe it,” you whispered, “we’ve almost been together for a whole decade.”

art responded immediately. “i can. you’re the best person i’ve ever known. every day i get with you is more than i deserve.” he didn’t look at you; he didn’t need to. just being around you was enough.

“art, i-“

“i mean it.” the silence that followed was brief, until art broke it. “i love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. i love how you always know what i’m thinking, and that you let me get you gifts even though i know you aren’t comfortable with being spoiled. i love that you love hugs, and that you’re always holding my hand.

“i love the scars you have even though you hate them. i love that you yell at shitty drivers. i love that you will always choose fast food over an expensive restaurant. i love the gleam in your eye when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. you’re always there for me, bo matter what. i love that you love me. i love you, so much. that’s why i married you, after all.”

halfway through his speech, you turned to look at him. passion swirled in his eyes, and you knew that you didn’t need to say anything.

art always knew what to say; especially on days like this one.

you leaned in closer to him, and kissed him briefly. you felt his hand cup your jawline and he thumbed a tear off of your cheek.

yes, art was perfect for you. that you could never deny.

#lee’s writing <3 #dilf art donaldson #art donaldson #challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fluff #challengers x reader #x reader #fluff

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dinasobuildingsupply · 2 years

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puckinghischier · 26 days

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Heard you were in the mood for some yapping, so here I am lol! That Luke hugging blurb was everything! My supervisor decided that they weren't ruining my life enough, and now ask me to do something and have me completely redo it when I'm finished because they cannot decide on an aesthetic they want. So my daydreams are currently in a "stay at home girlfriend" era lol (please don't judge). Should you decide to quit and give yourself a few months Luke would be the happiest person ever. He gets all day every day with his sweet girl, his favorite person, his bestest friend. He gets pumped at every home game knowing you're there supporting, gets lunches with you to dissect practice or what you've been reading. You try to argue that since he's taken over all the bills, he won't buy you any gifts. He lasts two weeks before caving and buying you something "just 'cause."

“luke!” you screech from the kitchen, causing your boyfriend to come running, socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor.

“what? is everything okay? what’s wrong?” he rushes out, frantic eyes scanning you for any sign of a crisis.

when they fall on the large, open box on the island you’re standing behind, he knows he’s been busted.

“care to explain?” you cock an eyebrow at him, gesturing to the cardboard box.

luke rubs the back of his neck with his hand, thinking about how to drop the news without you blowing up.

“well…it’s a bag,” he starts slowly, walking towards you.

scoffing, you roll your eyes. “yeah, i can see that it’s a bag. care to explain why there’s a two thousand dollar designer purse in our apartment right now??”

when luke saw the handbag online the other day, he knew it was something you’d love.

you always talk about how much you’d love to have a good, quality purse, and he couldn’t think of anything better quality than designer.

with you having finally agreed to his offer of taking some time away from work, he was on cloud nine always having you around. he loved seeing you in his jersey at every home game (and several road games, too), and he loves how you meet him at the rink most days so the two of you can catch up over lunch or brunch, after morning skates.

one of the things he didn’t love about you not working, however, is the fact you told him no gifts for the time being.

luke has never been someone to spend his money on himself. he allowed himself a few frivolous purchases when he signed his rookie contract, but he really only spends his money on things he needs.

for the first few months of your relationship, luke refrained from buying you anything too crazy. a twenty for coffee here, a fancy dinner there, but nothing like what he started buying you once you knew he wasn’t just throwing his wealth at you.

he started showering you with random pieces of jewelry and trips and shoes and literally anything else he saw that he wanted to buy for you.

you told him to stop, once, loving how thoughtful he was and how well he knew how to pick out a gift for you, but you didn’t want him blowing through all of his contract money on you.

at first, he listened. the gifts stopped and you basked in your victory. but then, the gifts changed from physical gifts to trips, concert tickets, experiences.

as long as luke was able to experience the ‘gifts’ with you, you didn’t care to reap the benefits, because you could convince yourself he wasn’t spending his money on you. you were just a tag along on plans he wanted to do himself.

“you did say you wanted a good bag to use, so i thought i’d surprise you,” luke shrugged, hoping if he doesn’t make it a big deal, you won’t think it is one.

“yeah, i was thinking something along the lines of a tote bag, maybe a leather backpack, not this,” you hold the bag up, refusing to take it out of its protective packaging.

“well, this is good quality. and it’ll last you a long time, so really it’s something you specifically talked about needing,” luke defends himself.

groaning, you start pacing in frustration. “luke, we agreed when i took time off that the money you were spending on me had to stop. you’re already funding my existence right now, so there’s no reason for you to spend any more money on me than is absolutely necessary.”

luke walks over towards you, stopping your pacing. “honeybee, calm down. i was just trying to be nice. you seemed a little down lately so i wanted to surprise you with a little pick me up.”

you take a deep breath, calming yourself down. you’re not trying to be a bitch, because you do like the bag, you just don’t want luke wasting money on you now that you’re not contributing to any of the bills.

“luke, a ‘little pick me up’ is a coffee, or some ice cream. not a handbag that costs more than what i used to make in a month,” you place your hands on luke’s forearms, his hands resting on your shoulders while he’s crouched down to be eye-level with you.

“well, in all fairness they were grossly underpaying you at your old job,” luke ignores the point of your statement, earning another roll of your eyes.

“luke,” you warn.

luke stands tall again, letting out a sigh of defeat.

“you’re right. i should have asked you first. i’m sorry,” he starts, looking up at the ceiling. “but i’m not sorry that i bought you something nice that you genuinely need, even if you think it was too expensive,” he finishes, looking back down into your eyes.

you let out your own defeated sigh. the bag is really nice. and you couldn’t have picked out a more gorgeous one if you tried.

“just…don’t go so swipe happy next time. if you want to do something nice for no reason again, candy will work just fine,” you step back from luke, grabbing the bag again, allowing yourself to actually unbox it this time.

“no promises,” luke winks at you, walking around the island so he can see the awe on your face as you inspect the bag, knowing the matching wallet is already set to be delivered later this week.

#i don’t know if i like this but here it is #alliyaps #luke hughes #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #hockey #new jersey devils #nhl

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