#the way he rambled on and on and finally just settled into saying he was insane bc it was the only answer

[grianorb]

doc going “i think im insane” at the end of the trial made me laugh so hard i think its my favorite thing he has ever said. the delivery was perfect

[jlheon]

𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇

(𝓹airing) — psh x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓯renemies to lovers ; fluff, profanity, & lots of kissing (𝔀ordcount) one-thousand five-hundred forty 𝓹eng's note. these pics. #iWantThat 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon

“you’re late,” sunghoon says in the most agitating voice possible as you walk through the classroom door.

“i wouldn’t be late if you did your job,” you huff, walking right up to the desk he sat at and dropping the bags of decorations you had picked up from the party supplies store.

“hey! i said i would pick those up!” he says annoyed, sifting through everything you brought.

“mrs. kim said we needed them by today! why the fuck were you just sitting around?” 

“geez, loosen up,” the boy gets up from his seat, his tall body looming over yours. “let’s just go decorate the gym.”

the two of you split up the bags of party supplies and headed towards the gym where the rest of the council and student volunteers were waiting. 

setting up for the fundraiser was easy until you and sunghoon started yelling at each other over which color streamers should be used over the doorway. 

jake had to drag you away by the shoulders to come to help him with the balloons. sunghoon felt a bitter taste when he saw jake with his arm around your shoulder but decided to ignore it. 

“hoon,” jungwon calls out. “we’re out of balloons!”

“that’s why i should have bought the decorations…” sunghoon mutters under his breath before walking up to where you and jake were giggling. 

sunghoon walks up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. “we have to go back to the store.” he whispers in your ear. 

you freeze at his touch but nod and say goodbye to jake. he lets go of you and the two of you walk out the exit leading to the parking lot.

the two of you get into sunghoon’s car and he drives off to the mall. 

there’s an awkward silence between the both of you, which you can’t decide if you like bantering with him over it. there’s so much tension due to sunghoon’s lingering touch from earlier.

once inside the mall, you quietly walked side by side into the automatic doors. 

only a few feet from the party supplies stores you halt. spotting your ex-boyfriend and old friend seemingly on a date.

“sunghoon,” you whisper, tapping on his shoulder. “do you see what i see?”

he rolls his eyes at you finally breaking the silence but then looks up to see for himself. once he does that the two seem to have had the same idea, making eye contact with the other.

“oh shit they saw us,” he panics, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the photo booth you were conveniently standing next to.   

the photo booth is small. way too small. sunghoon is already sitting as you uncomfortably sit on the ledge with your legs peeking out from the curtain. 

“get up,” he instructs. 

“what?” you raise an eyebrow. “i’m not letting them see me again! especially not with you!”

“i meant like come here,” sunghoon grabs you and settles you on his lap, so the both of you fit into the small space.

“oh my god, what if they come over here!” you panic resting your hands on his shoulders. “this is bad! especially since i’m with you of all people-”

“with me?” sunghoon questions. 

“well, like when we were dating, he always thought you had a crush on me, which isn’t impossible! i had to keep reassuring him but he never believed me! like me and you are barely even friends-” you ramble, balling sunghoon’s shirt in your fists as you freak out. 

“woah, calm down,” he tells you, prying your hands from his uniform so you don’t wrinkle it. “it’s not like they’ll come to talk to us.”

just as the words left his mouth the sound of two sets of footsteps were picked up by your ears. you started to become overwhelmingly nervous. it was the first time seeing your ex-boyfriend since the split and the fact your childhood best friend was on a date with him. 

even if you drifted, shouldn’t she have some sense of girl code?

“you’re shaking,” sunghoon stares at you. 

“no i’m not!” you shake your head, your heartbeat being undeniably fast. “but like i haven’t had a date since him and that’s kind of sad for me-”

“i swear i saw her,” the familiar voice of your old friend says, sounding so close. “it could have been anyone though.”

“no, i saw her and that motherfucker,” your ex hisses. 

“wow, i’m ‘motherfucker’,” sunghoon whispers, rolling his eyes.

“if he made a move on her i swear.”

“hey, i have an idea,” he says in your ear. 

sunghoon reaches for his phone out of his pocket, holding you close as he leans over slightly to pay the machine for a photo. the screen activates after processing his card and he selects a random frame. 

the camera starts going and you sit confused as sunghoon starts posing. you can’t help but watch him. he always looks pretty but you must admit he knows how to pose. 

you peek over to the curtain to see two pairs of legs standing outside the photo booth. you can only assume it’s them. 

“you weren’t looking in any of them,” sunghoon recalls, pressing print on the screen. 

“oh, sorry,” you turn your attention back to him. 

“it’s fine, let's do another one,” he says nonchalantly as he pays for another photo strip.

this time sunghoon shifts in his spot, making it so that your face can be seen on the screen without having to turn you around in his lap.

you awkwardly copy sunghoon’s poses until by the second to last picture you hear him again.

“that fucker is in the photo booth,” the male voice outside says, seeing as he drops the photo strip back into where it fell from. 

“come closer,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“fine,” you lean onto him. “but don’t show my face too much. i’m not wearing concealer today.”

“you look just as pretty,” sunghoon leans closer so your lips barely brush the others. “maybe even prettier than usual.”

he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, gently stroking it before closing the gap. 

you hate to admit it but kissing sunghoon was everything you expected and more. you’ve caught yourself daydreaming about his lips on yours during one-on-one meetings in the conference room. when his hair is still damp from his after-shower practice and his face is still slightly flushed.

park sunghoon can make you mad, especially when he got secretary over you in freshman year. but you cannot deny that even when bitter about the council's choice you wanted to kiss that proud smile on his face. 

he made you mad when he stole your posters when you were running for secretary again the next year. but after he found you crying in the far stairwell he explained he only did that because he thinks you should run for president instead. sunghoon even pulled out another stack of flyers he made for you that he spent the whole night doing.

the sunghoon that got you both kicked out of a council meeting for arguing with each other is the same sunghoon with his lips molded perfectly against yours. 

the same boy that had you studying your ass off when class ranks came out, since he’s your only competition, is the same boy in front of you now with his lips locked on yours.

you start to feel dizzy by the decreased amount of air in your lungs by the minute but you can’t bring yourself to let go just yet. when you start seeing black specs dotting your vision you finally pull away to see a heavily panting sunghoon with a flushed face. 

“sorry,” sunghoon apologizes as he catches his breath.

your heart sinks. he only kissed you to distract you and probably so your ex will see the photos when they print.

“oh,” you fight the frown threatening to appear on your face. “it’s okay. he’s probably gone now.”

“i would have asked for your permission but you looked really stressed and i thought it would help you get your mind off your asshole ex.”

“thanks,” you say with a pout sunghoon finds adorable.

“you still seem sad,” he pokes at your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “maybe another kiss?”

“maybe,” you say shyly. 

sunghoon is out forty dollars by the time you and he are done kissing in the photo booth. he kept mindlessly swiping his card as his lips stayed on yours to prevent anyone from kicking you two out since you were there for a considerable amount of time.

you’re interrupted by sunghoon’s phone ringing profusely. 

“where are you two?” jungwon asks in a panic. “we need those balloons.”

“traffic,” sunghoon says as you plant a line of kisses down his neck, hands tangled in the hair at his nape.

“hurry up,” jungwon advises him.

you and sunghoon return to school an hour and a half after you originally left. with a bag of balloons and a stack of photo strips. most of them capturing purely just of you two making out.

when stepping foot in the gym and you go over to hand jungwon the balloons he so desperately needed. he quickly notices the matching hickeys forming on both your necks and how disheveled your uniforms and hair appear.

“traffic huh?” jungwon asks as his eyes flicker between both of you.

"lots," you nod as you walk away to help minjeong tie balloons.

[2tarbell]

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha—? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

[sceletaflores]

A Different Kind of Compensation.

part two!

pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader

prompt: you’ve been babysitting abby for mike nearly three months now. he constantly apologizes for not paying you yet, you constantly tell him it doesn't bother you. one night he comes back from his shift at freddy’s and has a different idea on how to compensate you for all of your hard work.

warnings: 18+, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering (kinda???), munch!mike.

word count: this was supposed to be a short dirty work that somehow turned into a 2.2k monster. told you i love to ramble.

authors note: remember when i said i might write smut if i was just so moved by an ask? well turns out my very first ask moved me. y'all are nasty, i love it. mike, of course, is a munch because why would he be anything else? i never, with a capital N, write smut so please bear with me if it sucks. i hope whoever requested this loves it! i wrote it instead of finishing my scientific article for bio so it better be decent hehe.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

The sound of the front door opening followed by heavy footsteps woke you up from where you were dozing off on the couch. You gazed at the clock on the side table near you and sure enough, 6:10 blinked back at you. Mike was finally home. You heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely shedding his work vest and hanging his keys on the little hook by the door.

You yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up on the couch. The blanket you used to cover yourself falling to pool around your waist. Mike finally made his way to the living room, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough from lack of use. “Abby eat anything?”

“Yeah, a little,” You mutter back through a barely concealed yawn, head lolling to rest on the back of the couch. “You know how she is.”

He hums in acknowledgement but stays silent apart from that, keeping his gaze trained on the infomercial playing on TV. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. You sit up even further on the couch, leaning against the arm rest facing Mike. The blue/green hue of the TV bathed him in light, his hair was unruly with curls sticking out at awkward angles. He had deep bags under his eyes. Just as you thought about getting up to take off, he spoke up again. 

“I promise I’ll get you the money,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off the TV, “I…I just need some time.”

You scoff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Mike, you know I don’t care about the money. I don’t mind doing this for you.” You reply, nudging his knee with your foot softly then just leaving it perched on his lap.

Mike finally turns to look at you, there's a strange look on his face that you can’t quite place, but you give him a small smile all the same. He stares at you for a few beats, you can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“You deserve something,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You do so much for me, it’s only fair.” As he speaks, he slowly moves his hand off the couch to your ankle still resting on his thigh, he starts rubbing slow circles over the skin there. His eyes never left yours as he touched you, a very obvious question in them. Asking if you wanted this.

Heat instantly rushed to your belly, cheeks turning a light shade of red at his touch. You’d always thought Mike was attractive, but you never would have imagined he’d want to be anything more than friends. Since he was already so busy with taking care of Abby and his hellish new job.

You swallow once before speaking, your throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “What are you suggesting?” You ask so softly, wondering if he even heard you. Mikes’ fingers stop in favor of trailing his hand up your calf in a featherlight touch, disappearing under the blanket to seek out more of your soft skin. Your heart is beating so fast you think you might die, the sound of it echoing in your ears loudly. 

Mike's big brown eyes stare into yours with a newfound intensity, visibly shocked that you're reacting so viscerally to his touch, his pupils are blown to hell. Chocolate brown being swallowed by black.  His tongue coming out to sweep over his top lip.

“How about you,” he says slowly, scooting closer to you on the small couch. He crowds into your personal space like he belongs there. Mike’s lips inches away from yours. He smells like old leather and dust from being cramped in the security office at Freddy’s. Your chest heaves as your eyes flit back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Seconds drag by like hours as you painstakingly wait for him to finish his sentence. “Stay right there while I make you feel good.” He finally says, his breath fanning over your face hotly. You can’t even speak, afraid of how desperate you might sound, just nodding your head roughly, not looking away from his hungry gaze.

Mike’s hand runs up your leg quickly after you give him the green-light, slipping further under the blanket and higher up your leg until he reaches his destination. He rubs you gently through your shorts, your breath hitches sharply at what should be just a simple touch, but you’re still so worked up from earlier that it feels ten times more extreme. You grasp the blanket still strewn over your lap tightly in your fists, it's the only thing keeping you from seeing Mike’s hand at work between your legs.

Mike reacts to touching you for the first time like he can feel it too. His breath stutters out of his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your already wet folds through your thin cotton sleeping shorts. “Fuck.” He breathes out quietly, so quietly you doubt he even meant to say it out loud. He opens his eyes again, breathing slightly rougher as he stares at you through his arousal induced haze and heavy eyelids. 

Seeing your face must spur him on because he starts rubbing with more fervor than before, his clever fingers applying more pressure making you moan softly. You cut yourself off quickly, eyes darting down the hall to Abby's bedroom door. It's still closed, there's no light leaking through the crack between it and the floor.

"Shit, Mike." You whine quietly.

Mike groans softly at the sound of his name leaving your lips, body trembling slightly with the feeling. Suddenly he wrenches his hand out from under the blanket, and rips it off your lap frantically. You gasp sharply at the cool air breaking through the bubble of warmth the blanket provided, involuntarily closing your legs.

Mike pushes up from his position on the couch next to you, knee walking over so he's kneeling in-front of your clenched thighs. You're still slightly sprawled across the cushions, leaning on the arm of the couch.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He asks roughly, putting both his hands on your still closed knees. It takes a second for your brain to catch up to answer him, after a few moments you finally manage a faint shake of your head.

"No?" He asks, tilting his head to the left slightly. "Let me show you then."

Mike grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and leads your hand down into his lap. Your breath catches in your throat when he places your hand directly over his clothed erection, but it gets drowned out by Mike's louder whine thanks to you touching him for the first time. You drag your eyes downward, his dark grey sweatpants leave little to the imagination. He got more worked up touching you than you first thought, if the wet patch forming near the tip of his hard-on was anything to go by.

As soon as you started to rub him with purpose, Mike grabbed your wrist, halting your efforts. "No," He said breathlessly, practically panting. "No, this is for you tonight. Just wanna focus on you."

He let go of your wrist, turning his head in your direction. Both of you failed to realize how close you'd gotten when he dragged you to him. Your noses practically touch when he turns, catching you both off guard. His eyes travel down to your lips, staring at how red and puffy they'd gotten from you biting them to muffle your moans.

"How sweet of you, Mike." You whisper, leaning in just a tad closer. He lets out a guttural groan and closes the distance between your lips, claiming your mouth with his own. He leans forward, gently guiding you to lay back on the couch. His body completely covering yours as the two of you makeout, his arms on either side of your head and his hips slotting against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against your cunt. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up to meet his.

Mike breaks the kiss with a whine, trying to muffle the noise by shoving his face in your neck. You bring your hands up to tangle in his curly hair, yanking it roughly as he starts littering kisses all along your collarbones. Nipping and sucking in-between his gasping little moans as you twist and pull his hair in your grip.

He tears his mouth away to stare up at you through his lashes, his lips are swollen and red. “Please,” He gasps out, his hips unconsciously grinding down into your thigh. “Let me eat you out. Please. Tell me I can, say I can.” He babbles, hips rutting faster every second you don’t answer him.

“Yes.” You exclaim as quietly as possible. “Do it, Mike. Eat me out.”

Mike’s whole body shudders at your words, eyes falling closed for a second before he quickly slides down your body, leaving an odd kiss here and there as he goes. He brings his hands up to grip the waistband of your shorts, pausing to take a single steadying breath, then he tugs them down along with your panties and tosses them aside. He stares down at you in awe for a good few moments before he lays on his stomach, right in front of your dripping cunt.

Mike kisses along the inside of your thighs for a bit, licking everywhere but where you want him to the most. “Thank you.” he mutters, tone way too earnest for the situation at hand but you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s diving face first into your thighs.

“Fuck!” You let your voice get way too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the house, but you can’t help it. You didn’t think Mike had lots of experience because of some late night drunken talks before, but he was either lying or holding out. He works his tongue expertly along every inch of you. Every swirl, flick, or suck has you catapulting to the edge way faster than you’d imagined.

It doesn't help that Mike keeps letting out these noises. Small needy whines or deep guttural groans that you can feel. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting head, unashamed and authentic. It’s so fucking sexy.

“Shit Mike, I’m close. I’m so close.” You whisper too quietly for him to hear with his head trapped between your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. Mike brings his thumb up to lightly circle your clit as he laps against your entrance, and you're gone.

Your thighs shake as you release, grabbing on Mike’s hair for dear life as you go through the most intense orgasm ever. He moans into your cunt, working you through the aftershocks. He laves his tongue along you until the overstimulation gets to be too much and you drag his face away by his hair.

He sits up, the bottom half of his face covered in spit and slick. That visual alone is almost enough to get you ready for round two. It’s silent except for the heavy breathing coming from you both.

After he catches his breath, Mike retrieves the blanket from behind his back somewhere to cover the lower half of your body. Your thighs are still shaking as he lays next to you, it’s a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to mind. He kisses the side of your face sweetly, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer.

You finally regain enough conscience to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off?” You ask, “I mean I can’t feel my legs but I’m sure we could think of something.” Mike only laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, this was about you.” He said, beginning to rub his fingers back and forth on your hip. “Plus I, uh, I already sort of…” He trails off, a flush forming on his cheeks.

It took you a second to realize what he was saying, but when it clicked you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. You lifted up the blanket covering the two of you, and sure enough Mike had an impressive wet patch seeping through his sweats.

He pinches your hip lightly, offended by your giggling. “Don’t laugh at me,” He complains with a smile, yanking the blanket back up. “I couldn’t help it.”

You stifle another laugh to the best of your ability, though your shoulders still shake ever so slightly. You turn your head to press a kiss to his lips. It’s different from the previous kisses you shared tonight. It’s slower and softer, full of a new emotion that you both feel, but know that it can wait to be talked about later. For now you’re both just basking in the afterglow.

You break the kiss first, pulling back only slightly to lean your forehead against his. You both smile at each other for a second.

“Okay,” You give in, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. “But believe that tomorrow is all about you.”

[chastiefoul]

0:56 a.m. | nanami kento

0.6k words

“kento,” you whispered into the silence of the night and the dimmed lights on your room. It’s been way past midnight and you hadn’t been able to sleep, contrary to your boyfriend who’s lying beside you—his breath steady and calm.

when your voice didn’t budge him out of his slumber you tried once more.

“kento.” this time a little louder.

he then muttered an inaudible word, still closing his eyes. his hand wandered though, tightening his hold around the back of your shoulder; bringing you close to his chest. better, but the gesture was not enough for you who’s not feeling even a little sleepy, as mischief ideas filled your head.

third time’s a charm, they said. so you called him once more.

this time it finally did something as he hummed a reply, his free hand rubbed your side in a calming pattern, his hand went underneath your shirt that’s all rode up. he settled his grip just an inch under your chest, his thumb slowly moved up and down. “that tickles,” you said as you put a hand over his, refraining his little movement. Although, you’re sure he could hear the smile on your voice.

he finally opened his eyes as he gave you a lazy little smile and you swore you didn’t remember seeing anything more gorgeous than that. “why aren’t you asleep, hm?” his voice a tone heavier than usual, a tad husky as it laced deep with sleep. “i can’t sleep,” you whispered, like telling a secret to your best friends in a slumber party. “right. so i don’t get to either, yeah?” he replied, a smile on his face; and it’s only fondness shine across his feature.

“i mean, i understand if the old man needs his sleep even though tomorrow’s weekend. so by all means,” you said playfully, and that earned a deep chuckle from him. “don’t tease, who said we should have an early night today?” he raised an eyebrow, and for such a calm sleeper he now couldn’t stop his wandering hand as he’s diligent on giving you back-scratches—not that you’re complaining. “yes, but that was before my confidence in being able to fall asleep crumbled right before my eyes,” you claimed, feigning a serious tone. “i see, my mistake.” his eyes narrowed affectionately and you had a feeling you could say the dumbest excuse and he’d let you get away with anything.

you felt the need to sit up and do something but before you could even do that he held you down gently. “none of that, you’ll feel even more restless, love.” you couldn’t even protest at that since you knew he’s always right. “then what do you suggest we do now?”

“it’s a we problem now, hm?” he stared at you in amusement, knowing who dragged him into the sleepless night as well was none other than you. “is that a complaint i hear?” you threw him a questioning look. “it’s excitement, of course.” he laughed softly as he stroke your hair ever-so-gently.

“i should just start rambling maybe it’ll get me tired,” you said randomly and he just nodded without offering any question. “sure, i’m listening.” his hand didn’t stop moving. “where should i start?” you asked, relying on his answer. And of course it came easy for the man who seemed like he knew all the right words. “start anywhere, love. you could repeat anything, skipped over some words, or even tell it backwards and i’ll be here to point it out,” he said lovingly.

and you don’t know if it’s just his power you didn’t know about but it’s not even ten minutes after you started talking and as he kept doing the little gesture you could feel the sleepiness coming, welcoming you to one of your best slumber in a while.

--

idk how it took me this long to write this man. i love him so much.

[gghostwriter]

Lips of a Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Future take Summary: A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: This is actually an anon request about going on a museum date with Spencer and interrupting his ramblings with a kiss and I couldn’t help myself so I connected this to ‘Wanted: A Gentleman.’ I also used my favorite painter here as a prop to yap so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon when the BAU team closed a serial killer case in the state of New York. They were called in four nights ago and the stress mixed with a high dose of adrenaline that had run through their veins were on it’s way out of their system, leaving all the members dead to their feet and wishing for much needed rest over the remaining weekend.

“Hotch,” Reid captured his unit chief’s attention as they waited for the remaining members, Morgan and Rossi, to come down from their respective hotel rooms. “I’d like to stay behind, if that’s alright.”

There was a minuscule eyebrow raise from Hotch in question.

“Huh,” Emily mused, a teasing smile appearing on her face. “Funny, there’s also a certain someone that we know—” she gestured to herself and JJ. “—who’s in New York today. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

The blonde profiler let out a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder if that has something to do with Spence staying behind.”

“Well, does it?” Emily lightly elbowed him in jest.

Spencer clears his throat, trying his best to come off casual but utterly failing with his voice going up an octave. “Maybe.”

“It’s the weekend, take your day off,” Hotch conceded. “And Reid, congratulations.”

“For what?”

A tenor voice answered behind him. Morgan, it was Morgan. “For finally getting a girlfriend.”

“Good on you, kid,” Rossi added on, patting his back as he made his way through.

———

Locks of hair were escaping your loosely tied bun as you brisk walked to get to the steps of the MET museum. The emergency meeting with suppliers ran a little later than you anticipated making you already fifteen minutes late from your agreed meet up with Spencer.

A smile graced your face as your thoughts settled on the perfect gentleman. It had been a perfect match made by your three friends, Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

A blind date that had gone so great that it blossomed another date and another. This spontaneous one marked as the fifth and it brought to mind the first meeting at the steps of the Smithsonian and Spencer’s chivalrous move of tying your loose shoe lace.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” your voice reaching Spencer’s ears before he spots you adjusting the straps of your falling shoulder bag approaching his form. “The supplier didn’t come on time so I—I’m sorry.”

He rocked on his heels, hands wrapped around his satchel strap. “That’s alright, I just arrived myself.”

You knew it was a lie but appreciated his effort in trying to make you feel better. That was just one of the many things you could see yourself falling for in Spencer. As if you weren’t already halfway there.

“Shall we?” His lips forming a smile, no doubt remembering those were the exact words he said during the first date.

You giggled, echoing the same response. “We shall.”

“So is there a specific section you want to visit first?” Spencer asked as he flashed two admission tickets at the entrance.

“Hm,” you scooted closer to his svelte protective form, avoiding the onslaught of tourists groups excitedly entering. “The gallery of European paintings?”

He smiled and nodded. His left hand hovering near the small of your back, never touching—its’ warmth penetrating the thick layers of your coat and sweater while the gesture made your heart flutter fast like the hummingbird’s wings.

There was comfortable silence in between you. Inconspicuous side glances and shy smiles that say a thousand more words that seemingly can’t or won’t be spoken out loud. The tranquility was a sharp contrast to the bustling and echoing noise all around the museum as guests discuss with their partners the surrounding art and take photos as personal mementos.

Your feet came to a stop in front of your favorite artist’s work. “I always did prefer his work more than Van Gogh.”

Spencer smiled, gaze warm on your side profile as his eyes traced the escaped locks of hair that framed the modern art standing beside him which was you and your expressive face. His fingers, as if hypnotized, reached out to tuck one side that casted a shadow on your feature behind your pinking ear. “Actually, when you look at Klimt’s early landscape paintings, you could see he took inspiration from the Dutch painter.”

“Really?” Your body twisting to face him.

He studied your body language. Arms limp at the sides, open and trusting. Torso slightly leaning forward, attention fully captivated. And eyes wide, twinkling with curiosity. “Yeah, yeah—” he nodded, his own body mimicking yours and its unsaid language. “—and although Klimt’s colors are stronger in contrast, the impact from having viewed Van Gogh’s paintings in his earlier life can be spotted in his brush strokes and painting subjects.”

“Spence, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t strike me as an art critic. Is it a side of you that I’m only finding about now?” You teased.

“No,” he laughed, tucking his hands at the front of his jeans to fight the urge to touch you once more. “I read about it.”

“Can you tell me more then?” you further leaned in and whispered. “I bet you’d do a slightly better job than their pre-recorded audio tours.”

Spencer threw his head back and let a few chuckles echo on the walls. Your mind and its clever wit had impressed him since the first date. It was one of the many things he could see falling for in you. That was a half lie. In full truth, it was one of the many things that made him fall for you.

“Well, Klimt’s most expensive painting was previously stolen by the Nazis during WWII when they occupied Austria. Austrian Museum housed it after the war but there was a court battle for it and they had to return it the the family owner. And in 2006, Oprah actually bought it—” your smooth hands cupped his face, bringing his ramblings into a stuttering halt. His heartbeat, nestled within his ribcage, threatening to break from its confines as you stood on your tip toes, leaving a series of small kisses at ends of his mouth before landing on his awaiting lips.

“I—I’m so sorry,” eyes wide as you leaned back from his reach. A move that didn’t widen the gap as his body hunched itself forward, following you in its wake. “I couldn’t resist.”

He answered with a longer kiss, fingers twining with your silky locks of hair that had fascinated him since a while ago. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that too, I just didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

You exhaled a giggle, cheeks pink with happiness. “You definitely can, anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his smile mirrored the euphoria written on your face. If he were to try to describe this very emotion, he’d compare it to walking on cloud nine. To winning a lottery. Or perhaps to finding an invaluable art piece meant just for him.

And while the surroundings were still dull and mundane, there were a burst of colors that splashed Spencer’s world anew as his warm comforting hand now finally found its way to yours and his thumb invisibly painting abstract at the back of your palm.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[em-prentiss]

I’ve got my eye on you

----

You’re really in no shape to be at work. Aaron coaxes you home.

Cw: fem!bau!reader, reader is on her period, newly established relationship, fluff, use of pet names, no use of yn

Wc: 1.9k

if you have any Aaron requests, lmk <3

----

Your stomach cramps again as you walk out of the elevator. Wincing, you hurry into the bullpen, desperate to sit down and ease the ache in your lower body. 

Morgan looks up at you as you dump your things on your desk and sit down with a sigh. 

“Twenty minutes late, princess,” he grins. “Late night?”

“Not today, Derek.” You stuff your face in your hands, the pounding in your head intensifying. Your voice is low, strained, nothing like the usual teasing tone you take up with him. 

Morgan immediately frowns in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” He leans over the divider between your desks and takes a closer look at you.

“Fine,” you mumble, your voice muffled. You lift your head and give him a weary smile. “Just tired from last night’s case.”

He nods and leaves you alone as you turn on your computer and sigh at the stack of paperwork ahead of you. Looking up out of habit, you smile at the sight of Aaron in his office, his head bent as he works on something. 

The two of you had your first date just before this previous case. He got you flowers, specifically ones that wouldn’t trigger your allergies, and when he told you that with a flustered smile you felt yourself fall impossibly deeper. You had kissed him to stop his rambling, threaded your fingers through his as he walked you to his car and opened the door for you. Like a gentleman, you’d thought giddily, your heart bursting at the image of him in your head perfectly meeting reality.

He got you ice cream after dinner, intimately aware of your sweet tooth, and you were left wondering if it was too soon to think about marriage.

It had been a perfect night, one that left you wanting for more of him just like this; funny and relaxed and soft. You’d wanted so badly to push him into your apartment, have him take off your dress and press his lips to your skin. But you forced yourself to say goodbye at the door, his chaste kiss sweet against your lips. You wanted to take it slow, to do it right. He wasn’t going to be a quick fuck for you and you wanted him to know that. 

Because you’re in love with him, have been for years. And you’re pretty damn sure he’s in love with you too.

You’re broken from your reverie when you hear Emily approaching, a steaming mug in her hands. You give her a questioning look when she sets down the mug on your desk, the light color of the liquid telling you it’s some kind of herbal tea instead of coffee.

“You’ve got that first day period look about you,” she whispers before you can ask. You smile and pick up the tea, taking a sip and feeling the scalding liquid burn all the way down.

“That bad, huh?” You close your eyes when Emily brushes your hair away from your forehead. Her short nails scratch soothingly against your scalp and you hum, resting your head lightly against her stomach. 

“You’re a little pale,” she murmurs. “Did you eat?”

You say nothing and bring the tea to your lips again, avoiding your friend’s gaze. 

“Typical,” Emily sighs—quite boldly of her, knowing she’s no different. “Hotch won’t be happy about that,” she teases softly, her lips turning up in a gentle smile. She may or may not have given you and Aaron the final push you both needed.

You shrug as your cheeks tint pink. “I’ll eat in a bit,” you say, in no hurry to do so with the way your stomach churns. “The pain really blocks my appetite.” You scrunch your nose. 

Emily hums, all too familiar with the feeling. “I’d tell you to take some meds, but you need to eat for that.” She strokes your hair soothingly, making you lean into her touch.

“I will, Em,” you smile up at her. “When my stomach settles. This is helping by the way, thanks.” You tilt your head to the mug you’re now holding against your stomach, the heat of it seeping through your shirt.

“You’re welcome,” Emily squeezes your shoulder and heads to her own desk. 

Sighing, you tip your head back and adjust your grip on the mug in your hands, wishing you had something for your thighs too. And your head. And your lower back. 

You give yourself a few seconds before you rub your eyes and sit up straight, trying to start on your report. 

The words blur on the page in front of you and you blink, trying to bring them back into focus. You sip your tea, hoping it’ll kick start your brain into writing something, but your head pounds incessantly, jumbling up the words in your head.

The next sip of tea brings a sudden nausea with it, the liquid sloshing around in your empty stomach with nothing else. You set it down with a grimace. 

Fucking great.

Morgan and Reid are bickering incessantly behind you, Emily clacks away at her computer and Anderson is talking louder than usual, his voice piercing your head. You blow out a breath and grab your pen, forcing yourself to ignore them and look at your paperwork. You squint at the paper, the bright fluorescent lights of the bullpen like needles in your eyes.

You give up and slump on your desk with a groan, welcoming the darkness and the cool wood against your forehead. You cross your arms tightly over your aching stomach, feeling the frustrating press of tears against your closed eyelids.

Aaron leaves his office in search of coffee and catches sight of you with your head on your desk, your hair shielding your face. Your back shudders as you inhale, the ragged rise and fall of it visible even from a distance.

He hurries down to you and gently touches your shoulder, your name falling softly from his mouth. You tilt your head up to look at him, too tired to lift it from the desk. “Aaron, hey.” You give him a worn out smile. 

Your hair falls into your face. Aaron gently brushes it away and notes your crossed arms held tightly against your stomach, your nails digging into your biceps.

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, eyeing your tired face and the bags under your eyes. “You look pale. Are you sick?” He presses the back of his hand against your forehead, but your skin is cool.

If the cramps weren’t currently tearing your body to shreds, you might have felt the butterflies at his obvious concern. “I’m not,” you say slowly, wetting your dry lips. “I’ll be fine, my head just hurts a bit.”

A bit is a gross oversimplification, and from the look on Aaron’s face, he knows it too. “Just your head?” He raises his brows, his eyes pointedly drifting down to your stomach.

A strange heat rises to your cheeks. “I’ll be fine, Aaron.” You insist as you lift yourself up against the chair. The light shines directly into your eyes and you wince, pressing your palm against your lids.

“Clearly,” he mutters, looking at your desk and the still empty paperwork and reports you have yet to fill out. “Go home. You can finish this tomorrow.”

“No,” you shake your head adamantly despite the roiling in your stomach. “I’m fine, I just—” You shut your eyes and blow out a shaky breath when you feel a sudden cramp in your abdomen, “I just need a minute.” You rasp.

Aaron eyes your dull skin and the way you tightly grip your seat, your knuckles sharp as you take in ragged breaths. He sighs and crouches down in front of you, the gentle way he says your name forcing your eyes open. 

“Please. Go home or I’ll drive you myself.” His brown eyes are soft with concern, his brows furrowed and lips tipped downward.

You want to shake your head, but a sharp pain in your stomach almost makes you gasp. You bite your lip and look down at your watch. “It’s only 11.” You protest weakly. 

Aaron shakes his head at your stubbornness, your pain clear in the way your face twists. “You’re in pain, sweetheart,” he whispers, unable to stop himself from saying it. Your eyes widen slightly at the nickname, but he continues, undeterred.

“Please. Go home, take care of yourself. You can be here first thing tomorrow, I promise, but you’re not well now.” He’s using the same soft, soothing tone he uses whenever Jack is sick and refusing his medication, and it seems to have the same effect on you.

You wilt against the seat and nod. “Okay,” you finally relent, the relief obvious in your voice. 

Aaron smiles slightly, dimples poking out in victory as he stands up. You don’t even have to pack anything, your purse still closed on your desk. You pocket your phone and stand, your hand reaching for Aaron’s elbow when you stumble slightly. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” he steadies you with a hand on your back. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

You don’t protest and allow him to walk you to the elevator. A part of you is surprised that he’s showing this side of him at work, uncaring of the team’s piercing gazes that you can feel following you all the way out of the bullpen. 

You lean into his side a little when you’re out of sight, the warmth of his hand on your back seeping into your skin as you wait for the elevator. 

You’re almost disappointed when it dings.

The doors open and you walk in with a quiet sigh. Aaron walks in with you too, ignoring your surprised look. You open your mouth to protest, but he speaks first.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay driving? I can take you,” he offers.

You smile. The thought does sound nice. But you shake your head, despite your aching body and the long drive ahead of you. And the crushing need to let him take care of you. “I’ll be fine.” You force yourself to say. “Thank you, though.”

Aaron nods. “Drive safe.” He smiles at you gently. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” Your fingers magically find their way into his hair. You push the soft strands away from his forehead, biting back a smile when he involuntarily leans into your touch.

His hand finds the curve of your waist. “Maybe I can come by later?” He whispers. 

You feel your body grow warm, a comforting glow that he always brings out in you. You smile, momentarily distracted from the pain in your body.

“I’d like that. But I won’t be much fun,” you gesture to yourself with a shrug. The elevator stops and the doors slide open into the parking lot. 

“That’s just nonsense,” Aaron tilts your face down to kiss your forehead, his palms warm on your cheeks. “Be careful, honey.” 

“I will.” You stamp a quick kiss on his lips, your cheeks warm, and head to your car. Aaron holds the elevator doors open and waits until you get in before heading again to the sixth floor.

He walks back into the bullpen, past his team gathered at Emily’s desk, including Garcia. They smirk at him and he glares back.

“Not a word.” 

[planetpedri]

True blue — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader

Summary: You had a bad day, and your boyfriend is too awkward to ask for a hug, which happened to be the only way he really knew how to comfort you without rambling.

Word count: 347

Disclaimer/s: upset!reader , hurt/comfort , fluff fluff. waiter/ess!reader

A/N: getting back into my cm era bless bless… early seasons spencer is sooo.

You’d had about the worst day possible at work. A middle aged man had insulted you, mocked you, all the annoying things customers seemed to do with no remorse. All you wanted, was to go to your boyfriend’s and rest.

Since your apartment had been getting renovated, he told you to stay at his place. It was a sweet gesture and you’d accepted instantly.

Now, you’d thrown open the door with an irritable sigh, closing it a little more gently than you had opened. Spencer was in the living room, book in hand.

“Hey?” He says slowly, setting the book aside. Concern etches into his face as his eyes examine you closely.

Dating a profiler was all fun and games until you saw that look in their eyes, the one that was taking in every minuscule detail about you, trying to place together exactly what happened.

“Stop profiling me, Spencer.” You sigh, ���you can just ask.” You end with a small smile, not wanting him to think your words were meant to be mean.

Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, his shoulders lifting slightly. “So.. what happened? Or, did something happen?” He’s taking even steps toward you, not quite knowing what your boundaries were at that moment.

“Stupid customers, nearly hit the guy.” Your eyes widen in annoyance, but settle when you catch a glimpse of Spencers hands twitching at his sides.

A teasing grin threatens your lips. “You can hug me Spencer,” Your arms open wide, fingers motioning for him to come to you.

Spencer laughs quietly, taking the final strides into your arms. He wraps them tightly around you, head nuzzling into your neck. The small gesture wipes away your lingering anger at the customer, now your only emotion was adoration.

Your boyfriend’s hugs felt like the first hint of spring after a harsh winter. A breath of fresh air, all consuming. “Thank you,” you murmur into his shoulder where your head rested.

He doesn’t reply, simply giving you three tight squeezes in short sequences. A smile breaks out on your face, “i love you too.”

DTS , @halfwayhearted !

[celesteleoves]

Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

-

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

[babydollmarauders]

PHASES — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which luke is pining for the girl he knows he’s destined to be with

notes: 4.3k words. this is a new style of writing for me and i truthfully don’t know about it but it felt right for this fic.

Luke Hughes knows a lot of things.

he knows hockey. he knows history. and he knows that in this moment, drunk on cheap beer and lip locked with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, she and he are destined to be together.

but life and love are never simple. drunken hookups between best friends don’t just automatically make them a couple. and no matter how badly he wants to scream that she should be with him, he knows he has to wait it out; give her time to come to the same realization that he did two years ago.

her back digs into the armrest of the battered couch, her legs draped across Luke’s own as his fingertips grip her upper thigh. their faces are drawn together, her hands tangled beautifully in his curls, pulling him closer toward her vodka soaked lips.

“Lukey,” his name rolls off her tongue like a whispered prayer, causing a singular beat to skip in his heart.

“what do you need, doll?”

“you.”

and her singular word is the driving force that brings Luke to his feet, her hand laced with his as he leads her to his bedroom. the people in his apartment cast away from his mind, only one person occupying that space.

her.

surely, Jack can handle the party that he threw, no one would miss Luke.

and that thought is what leads them to his room, their bodies pressed together in mere minutes. the next few hours spent tangled between cotton sheets. his feverish touch making her body shake, and her soft sounds causing an intense sensation of need within him.

hot breath mingles, their lips rarely straying from each others. sweat coated skin sticking together as they christen his bed for the umpteenth time. neither mind clear, they find solace and pleasure with her legs wrapped around his waist and his sloppy thrusts bringing them to the highest points.

and when they call it a night, Luke’s hand slamming the car door shut after she falls into the backseat of an uber, he falls back into the same spot he started the night.

waiting for fate to bring her home to him for the final time.

***

the restaurant feels suffocating, her dress itchy, causing her to wiggle uncomfortably in her chair.

her date doesn’t even seem to notice, rambling on once more about how cool it is that she works for the New Jersey Devils.

“i mean, you must get to be around the players all the time, right? how did you even get that job?” what was this one’s name? Carter? Carson? it started with a C, right?

“i went to University of Michigan. graduated a year early with a degree in sport management, and after working with the hockey team there, i was able to secure a spot working for the Devils.” she smiles, a weak timid thing that barely even reaches her cheeks, “but yeah, i do spend a lot of time around the players. kinda my job to get content of them, ya know?”

maybe-Carter chuckles, nodding his head, “so are you like, friends with any of them?”

‘oh, here we go’ she thinks.

“i went to school with Luke Hughes, he’s kind of my best friend.” it was an instinct really, an involuntary reaction; for a smile to creep across her lips when she talks about Luke, “but i can’t really say much about him or the guys, they’re people too and they deserve their privacy.”

“right, totally respect that,” he nods, his lips falling into a tight line, and she can’t help but notice that they aren’t as pillowy as Luke’s.

his lips don’t nearly look as comforting to kiss. and his curls; they don’t… curl the way Luke’s do. rather he has a head of tighter curls, unlike Luke’s unruly mess of loose curls and waves mingling together. his eyes aren’t the right color either, erring on the side of a blue closer to Jack’s; which makes a shiver run down her spine, discomfort settling within her.

“are you cold?” he asks, catching sight of the goosebumps that spread across her skin. he huffs a condescendingly toned laugh before continuing, “maybe you should’ve brought a jacket, restaurants run cold.”

that was where she drew the line. with his obnoxious attitude combined with his interest, which only peaked when discussing her job, y/n was surprised she lasted as long as she did.

and if the fact that he wasn’t similar enough to her best friend played a small part in her leaving? well, could she really be blamed?

after all, it was Luke’s fault.

it was Luke who made the first move his freshman year of college, both of them tipsy on drinks made by Dylan and his heavy hand with rum. it was Luke who made the sophomore girl fall for him two years ago. it was Luke who drunkenly tells her he loves her as he buries himself inside of her, knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge. and it was Luke who has her going on at least five dates a month, trying to force the Devils rookie out of her heart.

or at least, she blames it on Luke; because she couldn’t allow herself to admit that she fell in love with him of her own accord. she can’t allow herself to confess how quickly their drunken hookups turned into something more for her. and she certainly can’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t put a stop to them. how could she? those are the only moments that she can let herself believe, even for a moment, that she could be his.

because despite how badly she wanted it, she could never be Luke’s. not in the way she wants to be. no matter how hard she tries, she can never find the words to express how much he means to her. how much she loves him.

*

Luke laid on the couch, the springs digging into his back uncomfortably.

“dude, we really need a new couch.” he huffs, “and why am i laying like this? i don’t think people actually lay down in therapy outside of tv shows.”

“shut up, i’m taking notes.” Luke’s eyes drift to his older brother, who occupies the space of the living room chair.

“notes on what? i haven’t even said anything!”

“you don’t need to. i’ve listened to you bitch and moan about y/n for two years, i’m writing what i can remember.” Jack explains, his brows furrowed in focus as his pen scribbles messily across the notepad on his lap.

“why did i let you talk me into this?” Luke rolls his eyes at his brothers antics.

“because you’re pussy-whipped and you’re playing like shit.” Jack looks up from the notepad, straightening his posture and settling his focus on Luke.

“is that a medical diagnosis?” Luke jokes, his brow raising as he chuckles.

“no, that’s brotherly criticism. you get that for free, courtesy of the nine months we each spent in mom’s womb.” Luke cringes at his brothers words, shaking his head.

“don’t talk about mom’s womb.”

“just speak, dude. what’s going on in that curly head of yours?”

Luke sighs, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling. his hands fiddle with the cellphone that lays on his stomach, impatiently waiting for the text that he knows will come through.

it’s 10pm on an off day, he knows she’s got a date tonight. he also knows how her date will end; soon enough she’ll be texting him a long paragraph about how men suck and asking him to remind her why she can’t become a nun.

“well, i told you, i know she and i are meant to be together. i can feel it.” Luke starts, quickly cut off by the familiar grating voice he’s known his entire life.

“yeah, yeah, you’re a simp. move on.”

“has anyone ever told you that you’d make a horrible therapist?” Luke questions, head turning once more toward his brother.

“i can’t say anyone has, no.”

“yeah? well then, i’ll be the first.” he glares, “stick to hockey.”

“just keep talking, Lukey.”

“i think it’s getting harder to wait for her.” Luke confesses, and it feels like a small weight has been lifted off his chest; progress.

“so you wanna move on?” Jack asks, his pen scrawling along the paper again.

“no!” Luke huffs, sitting up on the couch to turn towards his brother, who quickly strikes out whatever he just wrote down, “i’m just saying that- that this whole waiting game is fucking with my head. Phil said i had to wait it out. he told me not to pressure her. practice my patience and let her come to the realization on her own.

“but, what if it goes on too long? she’s always going on dates, what if she meets someone else? what if it takes her ten years to realize what i realized like a month after we met?! what if she gets married before she realizes?”

“too many ‘what if’s’, dude. you’re hurting my brain.” Jack groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Luke, already in an emotional spiral, rolls his eyes, “what brain?”

“hey! i’m trying to help you here! don’t insult me!” Jack stands up, notepad falling to the floor and his hands drawing to his hips as he glares at the rookie defenseman.

“well you’re not much help.”

“you want my advice? either keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.”

“i’m going to bed.” Luke grumbles, pushing past the shorter man to go to his room.

“don’t forget, no morning skate tomorrow!” Jack calls out as Luke’s door clicks shut.

as Luke strips down to his boxers, his phone lights up on his bed, vibrating amongst the cotton sheets. and as he sees her name flashing on the screen, butterflies flutter in his core, making him swallow harshly in attempt to stop them.

he doesn’t even get a word out after accepting the call, her voice filtering through the speaker, “men suck.”

“oh yeah?” Luke can’t help but laugh at the repetitive cycle, “tell me more. how do we suck?”

“you just do, okay?” her tone is biting before she takes a sobering breath, “all he wanted to talk about was the team. i could practically see the walls shut down around him once i told him i couldn’t dish out the hot goss on players.”

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he’s not sorry. not even a little.

“remind me why i can’t be a nun?” her voice is distant as she takes the phone away from her ear so that she can unlock her apartment door.

“no tiktok and no sex.” Luke echoes for what feels like the hundredth time.

“right.” she kicks off her shoes, bumping the door shut behind her as her cat darts around between her legs, rubbing against her nylon tights, “you ready for the game tomorrow?”

“yeah.” no.

“good. i’m gonna go eat my weight in ice cream and scroll tiktok. goodnight, Lukey. thanks for the reminder and for listening to me rant.”

“any time. goodnight.”

as Luke lays in bed, he falls asleep with Jack’s advice echoing in his head.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

meanwhile, y/n slumps on her sofa, a pint of ben & jerry’s in her hand as she looks down at the little ball of black fur that’s taken up residence by her feet.

“have you ever been in love, Sir Nightingale?”

the cat blinks back at her, patiently waiting for her attention. which comes in the form of her fingernails scratching lazily under his chin.

“i have.” she continues the one sided conversation, “it fucking sucks. never fall in love.”

***

the game was an absolute shit show.

Luke had taken a shoddy penalty in the first period; for delay of game, out of all things. which lead to a power play goal by the opposing team and leaving the Devils down by two.

it was only about five minutes later that Luke got an assist on a goal of Jack’s, but ultimately, the game still ended six to two, not in the Devils favor. not only did the team get yelled at for their lack of adequate effort, but Luke was singled out for at least two turned over pucks, which lead to opposing team goals.

and to make a bad night even worse, when all was said and done and Luke was finally showered and ready to just go home and wallow in the loss, he left the locker room to find y/n chatting with one of the equipment managers, Ben.

her hair twirled around her finger as she laughed at something Ben said, a red flush on her cheeks. Luke felt deflated, to say the least.

it was always someone else.

never him. never Luke.

he felt overlooked, and perhaps even unnoticed. it was like she never even saw him as an option, only ever the object of her desires when they were both tipsy and horny and already together.

and yet the feeling was still there. settled low within his gut, he still knew; he’s the one for her. he knows. he’s fairly certain that deep down, she knows it too.

is it his age? it’s only a year’s difference, surely it doesn’t matter, right? it was something else. it had to be, but he truly didn’t know what.

“y/n.” his voice carries through the hallway, settling in her ears and catching her attention.

turning towards him with wide doe eyes and parted lips, she smiles, “hey!”

“am i still giving you a ride home?” Luke’s expression is stony, giving nothing of his feelings away. though, he can’t help the way his eyes gravitate to the man behind her, Luke’s blank stare making the man cower just slightly.

and Luke almost felt proud of that. almost.

“actually, i think Ben and i are gonna go for some drinks. i’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?”

his shoulders slump, his posture crumpling the same way his heart did in his chest.

“yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Luke barely gets two steps closer to the arena exit before her voice calls out, stopping him in his tracks. her heels click against the floor as fast as she could move, before she pops up in his vision.

“you played good. a few mistakes are normal, it’s your first full season, the most games you’ve ever played,” her voice is gentle, her eyes peering up at him softly through her wispy lashes, “i’m proud of you. don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?”

her arms wrap around his torso before he can even respond, her face buried in the chest of his suit. and before his heart can reach a normal pace again, before he can wrap his arms around her in return, she’s pulling away.

with a wave of her hand and a small but awe-strikingly beautiful smile playing upon her lips, she’s walking away. back to Ben, who waits for her by the arena exit now.

and once more, Jack’s voice is back inside Luke’s head. driving him absolutely insane as he watches the love of his life walk out of the building, giggling at something another man said.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

*

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

“tell her how you feel.” Luke wakes with a startle, his head knocking against his brother’s, who was leaning over him.

Jack curses, hissing in pain as he holds a hand his forehead.

“what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Luke groans, voice groggy as he takes in his surroundings.

“i got up to take a piss and i could hear your phone blowing up all the way from the bathroom,” Jack explains, “shit, you have a bony ass head.”

“it’s called a skull. i know yours doesn’t house anything inside of it, but even i assumed you’d know what it is.”

Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. “ya know what? just for that, i take back my advice. fuck off and die alone, what do i care?”

“why were you giving me advice at-” Luke slides his phone off his nightstand, checking the time, “two in the morning?”

“she’s blowing up your phone.” Jack scowls, “something something men suck something something maybe being a nun is worth the no tiktok?”

Luke feels an odd sense of relief as he looks at his recent texts, finding exactly what Jack had described.

well, without the ‘something something’s.

“pretty sure you were saying her name in your sleep too,” Jack smirks, backing away towards the bedroom door, “tell her how you feel, dickhead. put you both out of your misery so i can get some sleep and not listen to your incessant whining.”

with that, Jack leaves, the wooden door clicking shut in its frame behind him.

reading through the texts, Luke gathers that she and Ben didn’t get very far into the night together, seeing as her messages were still legible, something drunk her could never accomplish.

the thought brings him an unnecessary amount of joy. but then he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of annoyance, remembering he’ll have to go through this process all over again soon.

truthfully, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. he’s not giving up on her, on the contrary, maybe Jack is right. maybe Phil couldn’t give advice for all women and maybe Luke should just stop waiting.

she wasn’t coming to a realization quick enough and honestly, Luke is fucking tired. tired of drunken hookups. tired of listening to her rant about failed dates and sucky guys. tired of being overlooked as an option. tired of his feelings going unnoticed.

the dial tone was ringing in his ear before Luke even realized that he had made a decision, like his hands were working on autopilot. like his heart knew what he would decide before his brain did.

“hey! did i wake you?” her words weren’t slurred, Luke noted. that’s good, she doesn’t even sound tipsy. she’s in a sound state of mind for his confession.

“no,” he shook his head, despite knowing she could see him, “well, yes but no? you didn’t wake me up but Jack did, he could hear my phone buzzing.”

“oh shit, i’m sorry! we can talk tomorrow if you wanna go back to sleep, i’m just about to-”

“i love you,” immediately, Luke is regretting this decision; the silence on the other end of the phone making him bite his lip in anxiety.

“what?” her voice cracks as she giggles, “Luke, are you drunk? did you drink before you went to bed?”

“no,” he groans out, his head dropping back in frustration, “i swear, i haven’t touched any alcohol tonight. just listen to me.”

“i’m always listening to you, Lukey.” her eyes widen as she sits on the edge of her plush bed, “i just don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“i love you,” he repeats, rolling his shoulders in attempt to psych himself back up before he takes a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you. i have been since freshman year. i think that somewhere deep down, you know just as much as i do, that you’re meant to be mine. and i’ve waited two years for you to realize it. i’ve been patient, i’ve held back, i’ve waited on the sidelines while you go out on dates and i’ve listened to you rant about men. and that’s no problem; when i’m done, if you decide you’re still not ready, i’ll continue to wait for you. because even if you’re not mine, i’m yours, y/n. but, i need to get this off my chest and i need you to know that i’m in love with you. my life isn’t complete without yours. and when you’re ready, i’ll be here waiting for you. i’ll always be here. when you’re ready for the drunk hookups to turn into sober love, i’m gonna be right here. because i think that’s our fate. i think that we were destined to find each other and i think we were meant to have this storyline in our love story, and i know that one day you’ll realize it too. you can tell me i’m insane, you can tell me you don’t feel the same, you can even tell me to fuck off, if that’s what you wanna do. i’ll back off, i won’t say another word, but i’ll still be waiting.”

y/n is silent, her hands shaking as she breathes through the tears that roll down her cheeks. in return, Luke is quiet too, patiently waiting for her to digest everything he just confessed. every built up feeling that he just let slip out of him.

“i love you too.” it feels like all the weight she’s been shouldering has been listed off of her with the utterance of those four simple words.

“you do?” he feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s just been knocked against the boards and his lungs forgot how to take in oxygen.

“yes. Luke, why do you think i go on those dates? have you not noticed that almost every guy i go out with resembles you? i didn’t know if you felt the same way, i didn’t know how to tell you how i felt without risking our entire friendship going up in flames. Luke, i’m so fucking in love with you and it hurt. for two years, i’ve reveled in our drunken moments because i thought that was all i’d ever get. i dreaded the day that you would meet someone and tell me it has to stop. i fell for you so hard and it was so scary and i just- i had to try and move on. i had to try and meet someone before ultimately, you did. because i knew that if you told me you met someone, and i was still in love with you? i would never recover from that, Luke. i wouldn’t. and now you’re saying this and i, god i feel so fucking stupidly in love with you. you don’t have to wait anymore, because i realized i love you a long time ago.”

Luke pushes out of his bed, any interest in sleep lost to him. pulling on a hoodie and an abandoned pair of sweatpants from his bedroom floor, he doesn’t even bother telling Jack that he’s leaving.

“god, i need to kiss you.” he slips on his nike slides, his fingers nimbly plucking his keys off the hook by the front door, and as quickly as he could manage, he was out of there.

“you can kiss me tomorrow, Lukey.” she smiles, finally rising from her bed to finish her nightly routine.

that is, until she hears a key turn in her front door. her eyebrows pull together as she wonders out of her room, greeted by sight of a disheveled Luke in her apartment doorway, who looks like he just ran down the stairs to get there.

hanging up the phone, she grins back at the tall boy.

“or i can kiss you now.” a playful smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he taking wide glides over to her.

his hands find her cheeks, his thumbs wiping gently over the supple, tear stained skin. the apartment is silent, their heartbeats racing as she gazes up at his beautiful eyes.

“or you can kiss me now.” she echoes, her words mumbled and low.

that’s the final straw, the confirmation Luke desperately needed, and finally, he allows his head to dip down. her lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of mint ice cream, and warmth spreads across his body, starting at his chest and almost blossoming across his body. Luke feels at home.

her hands desperately cling to his hoodie, as though he’ll disappear if she lets go, and his slide back to cup the nape of her neck. she has no desire to pull away, but her lungs spread with fire until she’s forced apart by the need to breathe.

“i love you.” she whispers, eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his own, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she bites back a lovelorn smile.

“i love you, sweet girl.”

“please don’t go back home. spend the night?” she finally opens her eyes, her head tipping back as he straightens up.

a pink hue glows upon his cheeks, and she can’t resist letting the backs of her fingers gently graze over the heated skin.

“not going anywhere, baby. staying right here.” his lips brush against her forehead, leaving a fleeting kiss in their wake and making her heartbeat flutter within her rib cage.

it feels right, the way they go about a new bed time routine. luke’s arms wrapped around her waist as she brushes her teeth, his eyes boring into her reflection. her head on his chest as they fall asleep, his alarm on for them to wake up for morning skate, together.

and if they were holding hands when they walked into the rink, if they were a cheesy couple who kissed before he entered the locker room, if his smile was a bit too wide in the tiktok she filmed for the Devils socials, if she chose the question ‘do you believe in fate?’ solely because of him, could they really be blamed?

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ hearts in the sand

content // tooth-rotting marriage fluff. talks of children hinted at. inspired by this TikTok. ((the Olympian who lost his ring in the river in France)) and happy softie sunday! <3

wc // 0.8k

『 k.bakugo masterlist | caramel & champagne series 』

It’s a quiet night at home, a kitten in your lap with a cup of tea and your favorite reality TV show to wind down the evening. Your phone begins buzzing on the couch repeatedly with rapid fire notifications, startling your cat from his slumber and interrupting your show. Annoyed, you finally pick it up to silence the notifications until you see the multiple headlines that catch your attention.

“Dynamight Saves Dozens But Loses Precious Item”

“Dynamight Loses Treasure on the Beach during Villain Fight”

“…the hell?” You mutter aloud as the sound of heavy footsteps approach the front door before it swings open. Bakugo’s got his mask tucked up into his hair, beads of sweat running down his temples and dripping from his jaw. He’s still fully dressed in his hero attire, huffing frantically while accidentally slamming the door behind him.

“Is…everything okay?” You ask, confused and somewhat frightened. Phoenix jumps from your lap and moves to the opposite side of the couch.

“I…I fucked up,” Bakugo pants, hand on the wall to steady himself. “M’sorry, peach. It was an accident.”

“What was?” At this point, you assume he killed someone and is about to ask you to help him bury the body. “Spit it out, Katsuki. You’re scaring me.”

He sighs before wiping away the sweat from his nose, head hung low with a frown on his face. “I lost my wedding ring.”

Oh...That’s it?

“It’s alright, we can get another one.”

Bakugo’s taken aback by your nonchalant answer. He’s not one to lose things, especially extremely important ones that he’d crawl through hell to keep. He gives you the typical ‘hah?’ reaction, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"Sweets...I don't want another one, I want that one."

You shake your head while tossing your phone back onto the couch. “It’s not like you meant to lose it, you’re a hero. Shit happens, it’s out of your control.”

"I should'a been more careful. Dunno how the chain broke and fell out of my costume."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say as you get up from the couch. "It's not like you tossed it in the ocean on purpose."

Bakugo scoffs. "How stupid could I be?! Already can't wear it on duty cause of my quirk, and nothin' will replace your handwriting etched inside it." He starts rambling, getting too worked up to notice you getting closer. "What kind of husband can't even keep track of his wedding ring? A shitty one, that's who. God, if I didn't⎯"

You cut him off with a soft kiss, arms gently wrapped around his waist. He melts into you, hands instinctually settling at the small of your back to keep you close. All the anxiety evaporates at your touch as his shoulders deflate. When you part, he lays his forehead against yours, eyes softening when they meet your own.

"Katsuki, you are the furthest thing from a bad husband," you scold, playfully pinching his side while maintaining eye contact. "Never, ever, say that again. You're the epitome of my perfect husband and that's all that matters."

It never ceases to amaze Bakugo just how quickly you defuse his insecurities and replace them with sweet nothings that make his heart flutter.

"I've got an idea that you might hate," you say, bringing a hand to his cheek. "Why don't I toss mine in with yours? That way they're together. Then, we go ahead and renew our vows like we wanted to and buy new rings together."

Speechless.

Bakugo is actually speechless.

He goes to say something, but each time, comes up short on how to properly express how much it means to him that you'd do something so drastic to make him happy. Instead, he tugs you into a tight embrace, squeezing you tighter than usual.

"Peaches, ya don't have to do that," he whispers over your shoulder, hushed and emotional. "Don't want you to risk losing somethin' so special just cause I did."

"I know it's sentimental, but it's only a material thing. My love isn't tied to one piece of jewelry, Katsuki, it's tied to your heart. You can't replace that, no matter how many rings we rotate through."

How'd he get so lucky? Bakugo truly doesn't know what good karmic deeds he's done to deserve someone as angelic as you, but he never takes it for granted.

"Got another idea," he says, pulling back to look you in the eyes. "Keep that one here, save it for a rainy day for the future. We renew our vows, get new rings together, and I get my ring finger tattooed. Can't lose that."

"Only if I can, too." You laugh, giving him an exaggerated kiss in response. "Save it for the future, huh?"

Bakugo blushes, grunting shyly as he rolls his eyes. "Y-yeah, you know...could give it to our kid or somethin' in the future for themselves or to give away."

"Aww, love when you get all mushy about the future," you tease, pulling his face down to leave a peck to his cheek.

"Just love you, peach. S'all it comes down to."

He's right, that's all it comes down to at the end of the day; love.

((general idea for the ring tattoos <3))

⇢ subscribers; @sunflowers-4 @sweetloveandaffection @sugurei @jenn-majima @bkgpackets @notnightmarefuel

[devilfic]

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[steddiealltheway]

"I want you," Steve says, staring deeply into Eddie's eyes, watching several emotions flitter through them before stepping back and gesturing to him expectantly.

Eddie swallows hard and takes a deep breath before looking at the ground and mumbling, "I want you."

Steve sighs and hits his arm. "You have to speak up and make direct eye contact. Come on, try again." Eddie groans loudly and rubs his hands over his face. Steve laughs, "You said you wanted my help sounding sexy or whatever for Hellfire."

Eddie huffs and corrects him, "I don't want Jeff and Gareth making fun of me again when I'm acting out a talented seductress."

Steve raises his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips. "Then, try it again. Picture someone you actually want, and pretend you're talking to them. Don't think about the Hellfire guys. Just think about that person."

Steve watches as Eddie takes a moment to stare at him before dropping his gaze to the ground. He huffs out a humorless laugh and shakes his head before collecting himself and slowly sauntering up to Steve. Eddie looks up at him through his lashes and lowly, very convincingly says, "I want you."

Goosebumps make their way down Steve's arms and his heart starts practically beating out of his chest. He can't help it as his eyes dip down to Eddie's lips, taking in how soft and pink they look. His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry lips, and he has the intense urge to lean in and close the distance between them.

Instead, Eddie takes a step back, and Steve finally looks up at his eyes, seeing a multitude of emotions once again. Neither of them says a word as they stare at each other, a tense silence filling the space between the two of them as Steve takes the moment to process what the hell just happened.

Eddie clears his throat and quietly asks, "Was that... good?"

Right. That's what they were doing. Steve nods and runs a hand through his hair. "Ye-yeah. That was... that was great." He settles his hands on his hips again and nods with a tight expression on his face.

"So... should we continue?"

Steve shrugs and decides to simultaneously torture and confuse himself. "Yeah. We have to see if that strategy works with more phrases, right?"

"Right," Eddie says sounding as hesitant as Steve feels.

"Okay," Steve says with a clap and ignores the way Eddie jumps at the abrupt noise. He juts out his hip and crosses his arms. "So what are some of the other things you'll have to say?"

Eddie's brows furrow and his tongue sticks out momentarily, thoroughly distracting Steve before he asks, "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Steve's eyebrows and pulse shoot up at record speed. "Sorry?"

"It's... one of the phrases," Eddie says, staring at Steve with concern. "Are you sure you want to keep helping me?"

"Yeah," Steve answers a little too quickly and continues, "Okay, try that one again. Really have fun with it this time. Less like you're telling me- I mean, them, and more like you know a secret of theirs."

Eddie nods. "Less accusatory, more flirtatious. Got it," he says with a wink, a small smile appearing on his face showing off his cute dimples. He reaches up into his hair and twirls a strand of hair around one of his fingers as he asks, "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Without thinking, Steve blurts out, "Yes."

Eddie's whole flirty act drops. "What?"

"Yes!" Steve says with a weird overabundance of energy that usually only Eddie contains. "That was it! Yes as in, you got it. That was perfect. Next line," Steve rambles out, trying to distract Eddie from his own reaction.

"Why don't you come closer, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, not even pausing to get into character as he just slips into the flirtatious persona effortlessly.

Steve turns away and runs a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ," he mutters because yes he wants to come closer and-

"Hmm?"

"I said, 'Do another,'" Steve lies.

"While you're not facing me?"

Steve nods. "Need to hear if it's convincing when I can't see you." That's definitely a good lie.

He hears Eddie take a deep breath behind him. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and finds himself yearning for the phrases to be truthfully directed at him. He tries not to give himself away as he asks, "Isn't D and D interactive? Like you'll have people responding to you?"

Eddie hums in confirmation behind him, and Steve finally turns around, catching a glimpse of fear before Eddie's face goes carefully blank.

"Should we practice that?" Steve asks, truly torturing himself.

Eddie stares at him for a moment and nods. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally commits to asking, "What's someone like you doing here, pretty boy?"

Steve's heart flutters in his chest at the nickname but sinks when he reminds himself that it's not real. "I'm not sure."

"Really?" Eddie asks and steps closer to him, smiling teasingly. "Because I think we both know why you're here."

Steve swallows heavily.

"Why don't you follow me, and I can help you figure it out," Eddie suggests innocently, but there's an edge of something in his voice.

"Okay," Steve answers weakly, completely forgetting how he got here.

Eddie smiles wickedly and grabs his hand, tugging him to the couch and guiding him to sit back. Steve's breath catches when Eddie leans over him and whispers, "Did you come here with anyone else?"

Slightly confused, Steve answers, "No?"

"Good," Eddie says as he straddles him and tilts Steve's head up in a way that has Steve nearly groaning. Eddie leans forward, breath ghosting over Steve's lips as he whispers, "And this is when I kill you."

Steve frowns as Eddie's hand lightly comes down to the top of his chest, clenched in a fist as if holding something. It takes him a few seconds before Steve finally gets what's happening and asks, "This was all a trap?"

"She's not a good character," Eddie states, still hovering mere inches away.

"I agree," Steve says and tilts his head slightly. "She should at least kiss them first. Give them what they want before they die."

"Won't they regret the last thing they ever did was kissing her?"

"Never," Steve states.

Eddie's chest rises and falls noticeably quicker than before. "Even after she betrays them?"

"Never," Steve insists, staring intently into Eddie's eyes, leaning ever so slightly closer.

Something between them breaks, and Eddie's hands fly into Steve's hair, tugging him close as Steve's lips meet his rushed and hungry. Eddie pushes back with the same passion, feeding on the tension that settled between them before.

Steve lingers in the kiss for as long as he can until Eddie pulls away and lightly hits his chest. "Regret it?" he pants against his mouth.

"Never," Steve answers honestly, moving forward to kiss him again.

Days later, when the seductress is reintroduced in the campaign, all the Hellfire guys shift uncomfortably in their seats and beg Eddie to never talk to them the same way he talks to Steve.

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW - L.H.

Summary: To keep up the ruse of Charles, Laura, you and him being nothing but an ordinary family, Logan shares a heartfelt memory he’s been hiding. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Logan is hopelessly in love, Charles being a shithead (lovingly)

A/N: I could not get Old Man Logan outta my mind, so this transpired from all that. I initially wrote it from the reader's perspective, but I changed it to focus on Logan's thoughts and feelings. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST | PART TWO

If looks could kill intentionally injure, then Charles would definitely have throbbing wounds all over his body. Logan shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to calm his increasing blood pressure as listens to the old man enthusiastically accept the Munson family’s gracious invitation to dinner. He sighs, returning to the driver’s seat, avoiding the rear view mirror lest he catch Charles’ smug expression. 

The ride to the Munson house is uncharacteristically quiet. The initial shock from Charles introducing you as Logan's wife subsides, leaving him lost in thought by the idea of being seen as a family. No one speaks another word, figuring that he deserves a break from Charles and you rambling on about stories to entertain Laura. Watching him angrily clutch the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white seems to be enough of an incentive to not pile on to his already shitty day.

Logan slams the door as he gets out the car, clearly agitated by the detour on their way to North Dakota. No matter how wonderful a home-cooked meal sounds, he knows they’re just wasting time by lingering. But once he sees the desperate look on the three of your faces - particularly, yours, he relents, hoping trouble would spare them for a night.

The seven of you gather at the dinner table, Logan steals a quick glance at you while Nate says grace. Laura digs in immediately, picking the food apart with her fingers and stuffing it in her mouth. Logan clears his throat and gives her a pointed look, she flicks her eyes towards you and you give her an encouraging smile. 

“Where're you heading?” Mr Munson asks, looking between Logan and you.

“Oregon-”

“South Dakota-”

The two of you blurt at the same time, the Munsons pause in confusion. Your eyes widen at the sudden turn of events, a flash of panic settles on Logan’s expression before Charles intervenes.

“Oregon, then South Dakota.” He says, smiling as if nothing’s wrong.

Mrs Munson inquires him further, going off into a tangent about traveling. Logan leans back, watching Charles animatedly lie about some "vacation" plans. He stops himself from scoffing, meeting your gaze across the table. 

“James?” Mrs Munson's voice snaps him from his thoughts. He looks at her blankly having missed the first part of her question.

“It’s been 8 years,” You interject, nudging his foot underneath the table, silently warning him to pay attention. “We’ve been together for 8 years.”

Logan’s eyebrows twitch at your lie. He wishes you were together, that you would want him like that. Whatever hopes he had for a relationship with you shattered the moment reality set in his mind. You don't deserve someone like him, a broken old man who's struggling to keep himself going everyday. No. He wouldn't subject anyone, much less you, to an ill-fated man like him.

“Wow! That’s almost as long as our marriage,” Mrs Munson smiles at her husband, “You have any plans of proposing, James?” Her eyebrows are raised, it’s clear she noticed the lack of a ring on you.

“Kathryn.” Mr Munson chastises.

“What? It’s a natural thing to ask!”

Logan shifts in his seat, uncomfortable by the expectant eyes on him. He directs a tight smile at Kathryn, slowly nodding his head.

“Uh yeah… just waitin’ for the right time.” He says with a tone of finality, hoping she’ll drop the subject. She doesn’t.

“8 years certainly is a long while, don’t keep her wondering too long.” She winks at you.

Logan gives her a fake laugh, noting the subtle redness on your cheeks. 

“Oh! You two are adorable!” She exclaims, catching the flitting glances. “Tell me, how did you know she was the one?”

Logan takes a swig of his beer, Charles chuckles next to him and he uses all his willpower to not knock the stupid look off his face. He swallows the nervous feeling in his throat, resisting your intense gaze.

It had been hours, or something like that, since you left his side. Once you saw Storm's concerned expression, you immediately shot out of your seat, running to the medical wing of the mansion. Something must have happen to him on the mission.

Charles had sensed your distress as you made your way to the starkly-lit room. You always hated the medical wing, knowing there's no good reason why any of you would need to be here. The moment you saw Logan on the bed, you knew he had suffered enough to be unconscious. Charles kept reassuring you that he'd be alright in due time, that you just need wait for the regeneration power to kick in.

Storm kept checking on you every few hours, making sure you were taking care of yourself while you sat near Logan. She knew the both of you harboured feelings for each other in a way that was obvious to everyone except you two. She'd noted how Logan would always look for you anytime he entered a room, always made sure your favourite snacks were stocked up since the kids kept raiding the shelves, always made sure your gear was extra secure when you had to go on missions. Scott had caught on too but she secretly threatened him when he was about to tease Logan.

When Logan finally opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming, shocked by the sight of you caring waiting for him. At that point, you had only known each other for less than a year, familiar enough to be considered friends. He didn't want to push you with flirty advances and realise you didn't reciprocate his feelings. That would've crushed him, so he settled with friendship and tried his hardest to bury his emotions around you.

His heart almost gave out when you smiled realising he was awake and he was going to be okay. And for a second, just a little second, a flicker of hope crossed his mind. But it went away when he saw Charles with the same expression. Of course, you were only there because you were worried about your friend. Nothing more.

Storm had advised him to rest for a couple days while his body recovered on its own. Pain was nothing but a sensation for him, after decades of going through utter destruction and slaughter, this was something he could drain out with minimal effort. You didn't leave his side at all. Even after he'd soothed your anxieties about his open wounds. But your response to that kept him up for days afterwards, 'I don't care if it's a paper cut or stubbing your toe somewhere, I don't like seeing people hurt. Especially you. I'm not leaving and I will be here for as long as it takes.'

It was that moment when all the chains restraining his desires let loose. His heart swelled with affection and he recognised that unmistakable emotion. Love. That stupid bastard. But he knew better than to taint your life with his scarred history.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes away from Logan as he finishes the story, keeping his focus on the plate in front of him, hating how silent the room became. Of course, he changed a few of the details to maintain the charade of being ordinary people, but the memory, itself, is something that often revolves in his mind.

Kathryn coos over his words, blown away by the sweet response. Satisfied, she turns her attention to Charles, excitedly asking about his time as a professor.

Logan avoids looking your reaction, even Laura seems taken by the memory - a tiny glimpse into their past. He coughs, ignoring the stabbing pain near his stomach. God, he hopes you won't call him out on this later. He doesn't know if he can keep this to himself any longer, especially since Kathryn had been commenting on your supposed "relationship" with each other.

The Munsons stand up to clear the table, Logan thanks them for the meal and nods his head at Charles, Laura and you, a signal to leave. Kathryn shoots down his intention of driving to a motel and insists on staying the night. Logan sees you stand up, trying to help his cause, but Charles declares you’ll leave the following morning - much to Logan’s annoyance. Your eyes follow Logan as he carries Charles upstairs, Laura right on his tail. Kathryn gives you a teasing glance snapping you out of your daze and you help her with the dishes.

Once Logan returns to the kitchen, Kathryn leads the two of you to the living room, “Here’s the couch, I'm sorry we don't have anything better.” The two of you thank her and she bids you good night, leaving Logan and you alone.

He groans, noting how the couch is hardly enough to support two people, much less someone as big as him. He certainly doesn't want to intrude on your personal space and wind up accidentally cuddling because of his subconscious impulses. Nope. That would definitely push you away.

“What’re you doing?” You ask.

“What’d you think?” He retorts, sinking into the armchair that barely fits him.

“Don’t be an idiot, your injuries are already bad, sleeping on that chair won’t do you any good.”

You stare at him across the dark room, when he makes no attempt to stand up, you sigh and lay back on the couch, turning away from him. A minute passes when you feel the cushion dip next to you, you don’t need to turn around to see the frustrated expression on his face.

The two of you lay down, backs towards each other. The only thing you can hear is the clock ticking in the next room. What Logan had said over dinner replays in your mind. You had been secretly pining over him for years and never showed your intentions, fearing rejection. So why do you suddenly have the urge to reveal your feelings?

“Did you mean it?” Your words pierce the silence and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even awake.

Of course I did. The answer leaves his mind as fast as it came. No one, over the last 8 years, ever came close to him as you did. But, he can’t tell you that, can he? Why would he want to put you through all the trouble that comes with him and his sorry life?

“Had to give ‘em something.” He mumbles, feeling his chest getting heavier.

“Oh. Yeah.. that was uh… I believed it.”

He hears you turn towards him and shuts his eyes, controlling the emotions bubbling inside him.

If only you knew.

PART TWO

[ashtxrie]

7:18 AM (jay)

PAIR. non-idol!jay x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, timestamp WORD COUNT. 1.0k WARNINGS. none! NOTES. i am BACK i'm finally writing again and it's just so fun and refreshing to write when there's not like. a million tests in the next few days!! anyway hope you enjoy this jay fic because he seriously needs more love hello??!! @star-sim vannie this is for You tbh after u wrote that sunoo fic that rocked my world

when you walk into the kitchen and stifle a yawn, jay can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips. and the sound feels gentle; it alights the morning with clementine warmth and settles against your skin to fill that missing familiarity you spent minutes searching for as you restlessly tossed amid your sheets.

“go back to sleep,” jay murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice before he even turns around. water bubbles in a pot on the stove, and the metallic beep from the open fridge has him rushing back to grab an egg before closing the door to keep the chill inside. “you’re not supposed to be up until later.”

you stubbornly shake your head. why are you up so early? or, at least, that’s what you mean to say. what comes out sounds more like, “so early, jay,” and you wince at the way sleep tugs at your vocal chords and slurs your words swollen around each syllable.

jay pauses to glance at you in surprise. a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. he presses his lips together as if to prevent the grin from spreading across his cheeks. it never works, and it doesn’t now, but he drops his gaze and turns to busy himself with the stove. “if you go back to sleep,” he tries again, “i promise i’ll wake you in a couple minutes.”

“define a couple.” you make your way over to him while rubbing your eyes with your fist. “i don’t believe you.”

“you and me?” jay teases. and then with the same underlying amusement, “it tends to mean two.” he turns at your approach (you hear it from the shuffle of his feet against the floor), but something mustn’t be right because he lets out a yelp and the bowl in his hands clatters against the counter.

“yeah, right.” you stop rubbing your eyes only to feel jay's hands grasp at your shoulders to stop you from walking forward, and to turn you a few degrees to the right.

his gaze focuses on your once too-close proximity to the furniture, and a crooked smile endearingly tugs at the side of his mouth. “do you… like walking into chairs?”

you groan, and your head leans forward to fall into his shoulder. so warm. you instinctively nestle into the spot at the crook of his neck, and you allow your eyes to drift shut. “are you sure you don’t want to go back to sleep?”

jay's arms wrap around your waist, and he gently tugs you closer. when he speaks, he momentarily rests his head against yours. you can hear the reverberations of his voice against your skin, and the comfort from the gesture warms you. “tempting. but i wanted to do this more.”

“what’s that?”

jay presses his lips to your temple and untangles his arms from yours. he steps back to the kitchen counter to tap the egg against the side of the bowl. the shell cracks. yolk glistens in the mid-morning light and slips onto the warm rice below, and he rummages in the nearby drawer for chopsticks to mix everything together. “i wanted to make you breakfast,” he tries casually, but you don’t miss the shyness resting behind his tense shoulders.

you blink at him owlishly. “you don’t have to…”

jay firmly shakes his head and seasons the egg rice with furikake and soy sauce. “i want to. i know you’ve been busy, and you should eat something before you take your meds.”

“oh,” your stomach sinks. “i forgot to pick them up. i ran out a while ago.”

perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but you think jay flushes. “don’t worry, i picked them up this morning.”

your eyes widen. “what?”

“oh,” jay mumbles. “you mentioned you were running low.”

when you don’t say anything, jay starts rambling. “it’s in the bag on the counter. and, um, everything in there’s yours… i happened to see some stuff and thought of you.” his voice falters, and he places the bowl in front of you. “it’s not a big deal. i was up early anyway.”

you spot the paper bag on the counter and pull it toward you. when you look inside, you find a new prescription bottle as well as that snack you happened to buy at the pharmacy a few weeks ago. you remember making him try because it was really good.

“anyway,” jay smiles nervously as he hands you a cup of water, “here. i’m sorry, i was going to make tako sausage too, like i made for riki that one time, but i know you’re probably hungry. he said mine didn't really look like octopus because i didn't put eyes or a mouth on it, but i’ll do better and make it for you next time, promise!”

you slide down from the chair and step toward him. your bottom lip wobbles. before you know it, you’re rushing forward and hugging him tightly. “i can’t believe…” you sputter for words, “you’re so sweet. like all the time. how did you even?”

jay blinks in embarrassment, breathing a laugh. “it��s nothing. i told you, really.”

“it’s not nothing,” you mumble into his shoulder, “i’m going to cry.”

jay lifts you and sets you back on the chair. “don’t cry,” he pokes your cheek, “and i did it because i wanted to. now eat before your food gets cold.”

“i’m going to do something nice for you tomorrow morning, okay?”

jay just gazes at you fondly. “sure, you will.”

you scowl. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing.” and when jay laughs, this time he wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the edge of your jaw.

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic

[fallinallincurls]

home is just another word for you

here is my entry for the summer fic exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston !! thank you for doing this as always demi. this fic is for the lovely @puckology101 ! i had so much fun writing for nico again and hope you love how this turned out!

title is from "you're my home" by billy joel and you can find the entire playlist for this fic here!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 4.9k+

“Jack, it’s not that simple. I can’t go.” You say for what feels like the millionth time, but your best friend either hasn’t been paying attention or is blatantly ignoring you.

“Yes you can! Look, you just spent months working yourself to the bone over that huge project at work which, if I have to remind you, was a major success. You don’t just deserve a break, you need one. And this is the perfect opportunity!”

“An entire summer in Switzerland with your captain?”

“Yes!” Jack repeats with excitement, happy you’re finally understanding what he’s been trying to get through your head since this whole idea came to be. That bright, beaming smile of his blossoms across his lips and he has that childlike wonder in his eyes. “Switzerland is beautiful and there’s no one better to go with than Nico. He obviously knows all the best places. Plus, he invited you so I don’t see the problem here.”

Although you would love to spend the entire summer in a gorgeous country with an equally attractive and charming man, the problem is that you’re in love with Nico Hischier and no one knows it.

At least that’s what you thought.

An entire summer with him sounds like a dream because it means endless time with him away from hockey and in his element at home. But at the same time, an entire summer with him sounds like torture because he would be that much closer to you at all times and still not yours.

“I’d love to make a full vacation out of it, trust me a break sounds absolutely perfect after finally finishing the project. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’d be intruding. You guys already rarely get to go home and see family during the season, even worse for players like Nico whose family is much farther away.”

“Y/N,” Jack says, silencing your rambling. Without hesitation you meet his gaze and wait for what he has to say. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Nico wants you there. He invited you for a reason and going on vacation is a normal thing good friends do together, you know.”

“I’ll think about it.” You decide, promising that you will put thought into it before telling Nico what your decision is. That’s seemingly enough for Jack as he drops the subject after that, but you are oblivious to his giddy grin. It would’ve been a dead giveaway that he knows your secret.

~~~~~

In the end, you decide to turn your trip to Switzerland with Nico into a European summer extrusion. After spending the first two months with him, you are going to visit all the other countries and cities that have been on your bucket list for years. That way you’re not in his way when his training ramps up again for the new season while getting the chance to explore parts of the world you’ve always wanted to see before going back home to Jersey.

Nico, of course, was ecstatic when you accepted his offer to come back home with him. Two months of uninterrupted time with his favorite person in his favorite place is a dream come true. 

Everything was set and going perfectly according to plan until you both headed towards the right gate in the airport. 

No matter where you’re going or how long the trip, you always make sure to pack comfy clothes as it makes you feel more at ease when traveling. There was nothing different this time, except you put the worn and well loved hoodie in your checked luggage, not your carry-on. 

As the realization settles in, a pout appears on your face. Nico, ever observant, notices the change in your demeanor right away. 

“What’s wrong?” Nico asks softly, nudging you a little with his elbow as you both shuffle forward in the line for coffee. You shrug in response, not wanting to come clean about something so silly. Before Nico can push any further, you’re the next up to order so his insistence at finding out what the problem is has to wait a few minutes.

But the moment you both have your drinks in hand, Nico cuts right to the point.

“Okay, spill. What is it?” 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips because 95% of the time, your best friend looks like the human equivalent of a golden retriever. Which means when he uses his “captain voice” and is all business, it’s almost hard to take him seriously. 

“I packed my comfy travel hoodie in my actual luggage instead of my carry-on so I can’t wear it on the flight like I usually would. That’s all.” You haven’t even finished speaking before Nico stops walking, plops his backpack down on a nearby seat and pulls something out. “What are you-”

“You can wear mine,” Nico cuts you off, the sweetest smile gracing his lips as he holds out his favorite black Kith hoodie. “I packed it as an extra for you anyway, just in case this happened.” 

For a moment, you’re speechless. Nico is always looking out for you in the little ways, he has been since you became friends, but this has your heart softening like never before. It also confirms that spending the next two months with him is only going to make your feelings for him grow, not disappear. 

“Thank you, Nico. That’s so sweet of you.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the shy smile on his face gives away how proud he is to be there for you. 

"How do you always know exactly what I need?" You wonder aloud, snuggling into the warm fabric of Nico’s beloved sweatshirt as you both settle into chairs next to each other in front of the correct gate. A moment of silence passes and you don’t expect Nico to respond until three soft words slip past his lips. 

"I pay attention."

The way your heart seizes right then is enough evidence that you’re madly in love with your best friend, but in an effort not to reveal your emotions, you just look up and give him the softest smile full of gratitude.

Nico squeezes your knee fondly before you both settle in, anticipation and excitement for your flight to his home country growing with each passing second.

~~~~~

Switzerland is gorgeous. Pictures don't do it justice at all. From the moment you stepped out of the airport a few weeks ago to where you are right now, sitting at a table with Nico and his family in the backyard, you haven’t stopped being amazed that somewhere this beautiful exists.

Over the last three weeks or so, you’ve spent almost every waking moment with Nico. You met his family, who all instantly loved you, especially his older sister, Nina. Days have been filled with visiting tourist attractions and some of Nico’s favorite places all over the country. Nights are usually spent snuggled up for a movie or around a fire, laughing with Nico’s siblings and friends. You have tried so many new things from experiences to foods and everything in between. 

Although you hate to admit it, Jack was right. Going home with Nico was everything you needed and more.

A soft smile blossoms across your lips as you filter through all the memories you’ve already made on this trip. Your heart is full of nothing but happiness and you owe that to Nico. 

“What are you thinking about?” Nico’s deep voice suddenly snaps you back to the present. A quick glance around the table confirms that no one but your best friend noticed the dreamy expression that was probably on display on your face.

“Nothing,” You shake your head in response, but your smile doesn’t budge and that’s when you realize Nico’s hand is resting on your thigh. “I’m just really happy to be here. It’s been amazing.”

Nico’s pretty brown eyes light up at your answer and that sweet smile you love so much appears on his face, dimples and all. God, how can someone be this perfect?

“This is easily the best summer I’ve had in a long time and that’s because you’re here.” Nico admits, each word full of vulnerability. That same feeling of hope and adoration rush through your veins again even though you know he’s just being honest. You can’t deny how that one sentence makes you the happiest person in the world.

There have been more times than you could count throughout this trip where it seemed like Nico was hinting at something more. He’s been extra attentive to you from the moment you both left New Jersey, always making sure you’re okay and have everything you need. His gaze has lingered on you for longer than necessary on several occasions, causing you to blush like never before. But those small touches that have become a constant in your friendship is what makes you realize that it might be possible Nico feels the same way as you.

When you met his closest friends from home, his hand rested on your lower back in almost a protective manner. He never hesitates to hold your hand when moving through a crowd so he doesn’t lose you. Every time you both eat dinner with his family, like this very moment, he always has a hand on your thigh under the table or he’s tracing little shapes on the inside of your wrist. 

But despite all the signs, you’re still too scared to admit your feelings and Nico hasn’t made any move to confess anything either. So you take note of every little thing he does for or around you, hoping that deep down it leads to what you’re hoping for. 

But despite all the signs, you’re still too scared to admit your feelings and Nico hasn’t made any move to confess anything either. So you take note of every little thing he does for or around you, hoping that deep down it leads to what you’re hoping for. 

You’re not the only one who notices though. Nina is just exceptionally good at schooling her expression before you or her younger brother can see she’s aware something is going on between the two of you. 

“Next summer we’ll have to make sure the Cup comes back with us and then it’ll be the best summer of your life.” You giggle, but Nico’s brows raise in surprise.

“Already making plans to come back next summer?” He asks with curiosity. Of course, he would love to spend these precious months with you again next year. It just catches him off guard that you’re thinking about that too.

“Yeah, of course I am, but with the Cup. That’s your end of the deal to hold up.” You respond with a playful poke to his chest, not picking up on how much that simple sentence means to him. 

“I think I can manage that.” Nico chuckles, eyes twinkling with happiness as he pulls you closer to his side before you both rejoin the conversation that’s happening around you. 

“Nico, what do you two have planned for this week?” Nina asks while reaching for her glass of wine. You completely miss the way Nico shoots silent daggers at his sister from across the table, but you catch the sweet smiles both of his parents are sporting. 

“We’ve got a chocolate tour booked, a few days to cover everything in Zurich and finally going to bring Y/N to one of my favorite places nearby.” Nico recites, mentally ticking off the activities that he planned for both of you to do throughout the upcoming week. 

“Oh! Make sure you go to some of the museums in Zurich. They’re all so interesting.” Nico’s mom chimes in with excitement. You nod and make a mental note to look up some of the museums that are in the city so you and Nico can visit a few. 

“We definitely will! I remember reading about some of them when I was doing research for the trip. Do you have any favorites?”

As Nico’s family begin debating the best museums to visit in Zurich, the sun continues to set and you find yourself leaning more and more against Nico’s shoulder, the exhaustion of another busy, but well spent day catching up to you. 

“Sleepy?” Nico asks in a teasing, but soft tone. He rubs a hand up and down your back in a soothing way that relaxes you even further.

“A little,” You admit, glancing up at Nico through your lashes and catching sight of that gorgeous smile of his. Butterflies erupt in your stomach again. You can’t deny how happy you are right now.

While stuck in your dazed thoughts, Nico must’ve told his family you’re both heading in for the night because all of them are saying goodnight as Nico gently nudges you to stand before leading you inside. 

And as you settle in for bed in the guest room where you’ve been staying since arriving in Switzerland, nothing but excitement about the upcoming week rushes through your veins while the soft warmth of love fills your heart.

~~~~~

“Something is up, Jack. I’m telling you. And it’s not just in my head because I have a crush or whatever. I don’t think he could make it more obvious without saying anything.” You say quietly into the phone while pacing the boat dock on the lake behind the Hischier’s house.

“I’m not going to act surprised because I’m not. Anyone who knows Nico knows that he has a thing for you. It’s probably just easier for him to show you how he feels back at home with no pressure on his shoulders, you know?” Jack replies with actual logic for once even though you can’t see the huge grin on his face since he’s on a whole other continent. 

“But what am I supposed to do?” Exasperation is clearly evident in your voice. “All these things seem like signs but what if I admit how I feel and it’s not what I have been thinking this whole time?”

Jack lets out a small sigh, but tries to figure out a way to steer his two best friends to each other once and for all.

“Just give him some more time. You have two weeks left there before you travel to Italy, right?”

“Yup.”

“He’ll say something before then. Trust me, it’s Nico. You and I both know he does things in his own way, but he knows what he wants.” Jack reassures you with a small chuckle and that’s enough to put a smile on your face again.

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, I’ve gotta go. We’re supposed to be going to one of his favorite spots that he’s been dying to show me and I have to get ready. But thanks for the advice, Jacky.” 

“Anytime. Bring me back a Toblerone will you?” 

You’re shaking your head as goodbyes are exchanged before the call ends. As soon as you turn around to head back towards the house, you spot Nico on the deck waiting for you. He gives a goofy wave and that stunning smile of his is easy to see even from where you are. 

“Ready to go soon?” Nico asks when you step up next to him, not hesitating a second to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Want to make sure we get there at the perfect time to catch the sunset since that’s the best part.”

“I’ll be all ready to go in ten minutes, tops.” You say with a smile, enjoying the feeling of being so close to him. A million thoughts race through your mind again, but you push them all away to soak in this simple moment.

“Was that Jack on the phone?” You don’t miss the hint of laughter in Nico’s deep voice.

“Who else would be calling me? I gave him the rundown of how amazing Switzerland is and he wants me to bring back a Toblerone for him.” 

“Of course he does.” Nico chuckles, that beautiful sound bringing you a kind of happiness you can’t find anywhere else. 

As you change into a comfy, but flattering outfit, you can’t help but wonder again where Nico is bringing you today. The only hint he’s given about the destination is that he’s loved the place since he was little and it’s special to him. A mixture of excitement and nerves rush through you as Jack’s words repeat through your head at the same time.

Anyone who knows Nico knows that he has a thing for you.

Do they really?

But it’s then that a collection of moments come back to you. The way Jack started insisting you get a ride home from Nico after games instead of riding back with him. How Nina looks at you with a glimmer in her eyes that looks like joy despite the fact you just met her this summer. The nights you’ve spent talking to Nico’s mom while looking through photo albums and watching his cheeks become rosy with blush when she pointed out the embarrassing snapshots. The way all his teammates just started to assume you’d be his plus one to any event the team had to attend after you accompanied their captain to one gala.

Ohmygod. Somehow, Jack was right again. Nico’s feelings for you have been obvious to everyone else but you this whole time.

Taking a deep breath, you push the life-changing revelation to the back of your mind before grabbing your bag and heading downstairs to meet Nico for his planned adventure that remains a mystery.

A dimpled smile blossoms across Nico’s lips the moment he sees you, making him look impossibly handsome. He’s wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt but somehow he still has your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. 

“Hi,” As soon as the single syllable leaves your lips, you’re mentally face palming. There are a thousand things to say, yet that’s what you went with?

“Hi, sunneschii.” Nico responds, slipping into his native language for a second to use his favorite term of endearment for you. Sunshine. The blush that spreads across your cheeks is unstoppable which just makes Nico even happier. He’s so in love with you and he still doesn’t know how you can’t tell yet. It’s obvious to everyone else but the one person who matters. “Ready to go?” With a nod acting as your reply, Nico holds his hand out for you to take and leads you to the car.

As Nico’s playlist flows from the speakers and the warm summer air fills the car thanks to the windows being rolled down, you both get lost in conversation together. Nico points out places along the drive that hold any kind of significance to him and that fuzzy feeling is present in your heart again. For a brief moment, you can picture this being your life every summer. Coming back to Switzerland to spend the offseason with the brown eyed sweetheart who happens to be a professional ice hockey player and the man you love. But as much as you’d like that, it can only stay a dream for now.

Without even realizing how much time has passed, Nico is parking the car in a small lot that is blanketed in shade from the enormous but breathtaking castle sitting atop a small hill. 

“Wow,” You whisper in shock, which makes Nico chuckle.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Come on,” He teases, quickly getting out of the car and rounding the hood to open the passenger side door for you. 

As you step out of the car, hand in Nico’s, you gaze up at the beautiful building. There’s nothing like this back in Jersey and you’re struck by the absolute beauty of the place that Nico gets to call home. Then another strike of emotion hits you because this is somewhere that he’s made clear is special to him and he brought you here. 

“Nico, this place is-”

“Gorgeous?” He finishes your sentence, smiling at you while still leading you to the courtyard in the middle of the castle. “Yeah, I know. I had to make sure you saw it before you continue on the rest of your trip through Europe. Nothing else in the world compares.”

You nod in silent agreement, still too in awe of your surroundings to say much else. Except when the courtyard comes into view, the sunset framed beautifully between the columns that face out over the countryside, your breath hitches.

There has never been a sight so stunning as this.

 “Ohymygod,” You murmur, at a total loss of words. Nico’s sweet laugh fills the air at your amazed reaction and that’s when you realize how close the two of you are. He’s standing right next to you, arm brushing against yours with each little movement and you can feel his gaze on you without even looking over. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Take a picture. It won’t do it any justice, but at least you’ll have proof that this is real.” Nico suggests softly, watching as you pull your phone out to capture the breathtaking view in front of you. After you take a few photos and turn back to admire the sunset, Nico nudges you playfully before holding his phone up in position for a selfie.

“Neeks,” You giggle, leaning into him. “The view is that way!” 

“Yeah, right.” He teases back, snapping bursts of photos that capture the two of you smiling and laughing together and even one of Nico pressing a light kiss to your temple. The blush that spreads across your cheeks is undeniable and he definitely notices the effect that small act has on you. 

After Nico puts his phone away again, a moment of comfortable silence settles as he keeps you close thanks to his arm being wrapped comfortably around your waist. 

“Y/N,” Nico whispers so gently you almost don’t hear him.

“Mhm,” You respond, pulling your eyes away from the sun sinking in the horizon to look at the man next to you. 

“I have to tell you something. I’ve already waited too long to say and can’t wait any longer.”

Immediately, your heart starts to race but you try to stay calm. A mixture of nerves and excitement rush through your veins as you nod in encouragement for him to keep talking. He reaches for your hand, giving it a little squeeze, before taking a deep breath and flashing that dimpled smile you love.

“I’m in love with you.” Nico says simply, his voice heavy with emotion. His brown eyes are full of adoration as he looks at you and it’s impossible to explain the feeling of elation you’re experiencing right now. “I have been for years, but haven’t told you because I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we had. But having you here, at home, with me has made it clear that I can’t keep telling myself that being friends with you is enough anymore. Because it isn’t. I want to start and end every day with you by my side. I want to see you in the crowd at home games wearing my last name and the number 13 proudly on your back. I want to do life with you, Y/N. All of it.”

In the few seconds it takes for you to process his confession, the words you’ve been waiting to hear for months, Nico gets nervous. What if the two of you are only destined to be friends and he just ruined everything? But before his thoughts can spiral any further, the most beautiful smile blossoms across your lips and Nico feels his heart soar.

“What if I told you I feel the exact same way? And all I want to do right now is kiss you?”

You catch a glimpse of the huge grin on Nico’s face before he scoops you up in his arms and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and passionate, a silent exchange of all the words that have been left unsaid over the years. You melt into him, feeling at home more than ever before, with nothing but pure happiness surrounding the two of you.

Finally.

When you both reluctantly pull away, Nico cradles your cheek in his hand, eyes never leaving yours. Nothing else in the world matters right now except for the man in front of you.

“You have no idea how happy I am.” Nico murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose and then your lips again. 

“I think I do.” You giggle, trying desperately to remember every detail of this very moment. The picturesque sunset painting the castle in a warm orange glow, the pure unfiltered joy on display across Nico’s face, how right it feels to be held in his arms. 

It doesn’t take long for the sun to fully disappear on the horizon and with another kiss, because now Nico can’t help it, he leads you back to the car to head back home. But this time as more than friends.

~~~~~

When you arrive back at the Hischier's house, it’s quiet. Either everyone is already asleep or in the backyard around the fire like usual, but you and Nico don’t give it another thought. With your hand in his, you both head upstairs with giddy smiles and hearts full of adoration.

“Go get what you need from the guest room.” Nico says with a nod towards the door of the room you’ve been staying in for the last month and a half. The silent implication hangs in the air, giving you that jolt of excitement all over again.

So you do exactly that. You grab the necessities for the night, which includes the comfy hoodie Nico gave you at the airport that you somehow haven’t given back yet, and pad down the hall to his childhood bedroom. 

Both of you partake in the quiet dance of getting ready for bed with a sense of nerves knowing that the confessed emotions are still new, but you catch glimpses of trophies, medals and pictures that capture the years and years of his hockey career scattered all across the room. A soft smile tugs at your lips at just how stuck in time this one room feels, yet somehow that makes your love for him grow infinitely more. 

Nico settles in the bed, opening his arms wide for you as a small yawn escapes past his lips. You giggle at the sight and after pulling his hoodie on, you don’t have a moment of hesitation in joining him. His embrace is strong and comforting, a feeling you could get used to. Nico drops a tender kiss to the top of your head as you settle in against him, his warmth completely enveloping you.

“Thank you,” You whisper, the words full of meaning as you look up with wonderstruck eyes and brush that one stubborn piece of hair off his forehead. He’s so undeniably perfect it’s hard to believe he’s real sometimes. “And I’m going to wash this hoodie and give it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Oh, please keep it. I like you wearing it.” Nico murmurs back, one hand beginning to rub up and down your back.

“Really? I thought it was your favorite one.”

“It was. Before I saw you wearing it. So it’s yours now.” He says so easily, voice steady and confident with a touch of cheekiness.  

With your heart full to the brim with love and nothing but pure happiness running through your veins as sleep pulls you under, you realize this is the last place you expected to be during your trip to Switzerland with Nico. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

~~~~~

You wake in the morning to the familiar sound of muffled conversation and bright summer sunlight filtering through the windows. Nico’s head rests on your chest with his arms wrapped around you. His hair is tousled and his lips are parted a tiny bit as he continues to sleep peacefully. The cozy moment is like a dream, one you never want to end.

But of course, the time to return to “real life” comes after Nico wakes up and greets you with that adorable smile. That’s when the slightest fear sets in about how to greet his family downstairs as if nothing drastic has changed between the two of you in the last 24 hours.

Lucky for you, Nico makes the decision himself. With a few sweet kisses and reassuring words, he intertwines his fingers with yours before leading you down to the kitchen. As the voices grow louder with each step, you calm yourself and focus on the man in front of you. 

He’s yours now. After all this time.

When you both enter the kitchen, hand in hand, no one bats an eye. At first you think they don’t notice, which seems impossible especially when Nico kisses your temple, but you realize as Nico’s mom pushes a mug of coffee towards you and when that signature smirk never falls from Nina’s face that they all saw this coming. They were simply waiting for the two of you to finally get together just like Jack has been.

“Danke, meine liebe." Nico’s mom murmurs softly in her native language while pulling you in for a hug as everyone else is focused on making breakfast. Thank you, my love. “He’s always deserved to be happy and I know he will be with you. Whether that’s here or in New Jersey or anywhere else. You’re his home.”

And when you look at Nico whose smile couldn’t be any brighter than it is right now as he admires you, you realize that at some point over the last few years, he’s become your home too. The place where you feel safe, the most like yourself and loved unconditionally. 

A place you never have to leave now.