#timo looking down to make sure she’s good

[puckinghischier]

what if i lay in the road and scream over how adorable this is

[hottiesforhockey]

ultimate girl boss ⎜l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x afab!reader genre: romance ⎜smut ⎜ strangers-to-lovers? ⎜ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⎜oral (f!recieving) ⎜ use of pet names (princes) ⎜ kitchen sex ⎜ one night stand ⎜fingering ⎜ p in v ⎜luke is a bit of a dork ⎜ he falls first and he falls harder ⎜size kink...kinda? ⎜mentions of pain with sex ⎜both luke and the reader love the miscommunication trope ⎜ short and sweet tbh ⎜ synopsis: you know you shouldn't have slept with a player, but it's not like you'd really see him again, right? word count: 7.7k authors note:  this was a top contender in my what to finish next poll so I hope you all enjoy!!

(unedited)

“I want to thank everyone for being here tonight — and want to say I’m sure we’re all excited to kick off our first ever staff and players halloween party.” Your friend says into the mic, everyone letting out cheers in response, “I know we usually have seperate parties but this year we want the staff and players to really get to know each other and what better way to do that then by getting completely hammered with each other.” He says says letting out a soft cheer when the rest of the room stays quiet, the hushed chuckle here and there. “Anyway I hope everyone has fun and please remember an open bar doesn’t mean you can damage property, I’m looking at you Timo.” You clap slowly as your friend climbs down from his spot on the bar table, his cheeks flushed a bright red as he joins you in leaning against the bar. 

“That felt awkward — did it look awkward?” He asks slowly, accepting the beer bottle from the bar tender with a grimace. 

“It did look awkward.” You agree, taking a sip of your lemonade reaching over to pat his hand softly in reassurance, “Dawson everyone loves you because you’re awkward so don’t think too much about it.” Dawson perks up as one of his teammates calls his name, bounding away from the bar his hair fanning out from under his cap.  You’re still smiling to yourself when someone slides into the spot Dawson left open.

“You really sticking to lemonade all night?” a familiar voice says, smooth and amused, cutting through the music and chatter around you. You glance sideways — and there he is. Luke Hughes. In a bright green shirt, overalls, and a little green hat with a giant “L” on it. Luigi. Of course.

You can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know if I’m more surprised you’re dressed as Luigi or that Jack actually agreed to be Mario.”

Luke’s grin is boyish and crooked, the kind of grin that makes trouble look like a good idea. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy. Took a week of convincing and a few beers.”

“And here I thought sibling pressure only worked on younger brothers.”

He leans an elbow on the bar, watching you with a playful glint in his eye. “Oh, it definitely works both ways. Besides, you can’t be Mario without Luigi. We’re a package deal.”

“Cute,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m sure jack’s girlfriend thinks the same.” You tease, both of you glancing over at the tall blonde dressed as Princess Peach, the girl sticking close to her boyfriend’s side as he mingles with his teammates. “You didn’t want to stick with you ‘package deal’?” 

Luke smirks, tapping a finger against the bar. “Jack likes to wander off — probably challenging someone to a drinking game.”

“Sounds about right.” You pause, letting your eyes sweep over him. “So, what? You decided to make rounds as everyone’s favourite sidekick?”

His smile widens. “Who says I’m a sidekick?”

You arch a brow. “You are Luigi.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just here to rescue Princess Peach,” he teases, leaning in a little, you shoot a questioning gaze over to his brothers girlfriend. 

“She does look like she needs saving.” 

He shakes his head with a smile as his voice lowers, playful but laced with something that makes your heart skip. “Or maybe I’m here to make sure someone’s getting to know the players, like Dawson said.”

Your pulse jumps at his proximity, but you keep your cool. “So, I’m the metaphorical Peach in this scenario?”

Luke’s eyes flicker with amusement, lingering on yours for a beat too long. “Would that be so bad?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know. I’ve always been more of a Toad kind of girl.”

He laughs, shaking his head, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah? I can see that.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Luke raises both hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Nothing. Just that you’d make a pretty cute Peach, too.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding your smile. “Is this how you plan to win me over? Bad Mario references?”

“Is it working?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you finish your drink, set the glass on the bar, and meet his gaze head-on.

“Maybe.”

His grin sharpens. “Then I guess I’ll keep going.”

You let the word hang between you for a beat, the teasing lilt of your voice lingering in the air. Luke watches you, his grin never quite fading, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his dark eyes. The party buzzes on around you both—music pulsing, laughter spilling from groups of people in costumes, but none of it seems to matter right now.

“So,” he says, tapping his knuckles lightly on the bar, “you planning on heading out early, or are you here for the long haul?” You glance around the room, spotting Dawson across the way engaged in an animated conversation with another teammate. A few more familiar faces pass by, offering smiles and nods, but your attention drifts back to Luke almost immediately.

“Honestly?” You shrug, a casual, playful expression crossing your face. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Luke leans in a little closer, elbows resting on the bar. “What would it take to convince you to stick around?”

You give him a slow, considering look, letting the question settle in your mind before answering. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

He laughs, low and soft, shaking his head. “That’s a dangerous question.”

“Maybe I like danger.”

Luke’s gaze lingers, his smile never wavering. “Alright. What if I promised to make it worth your while?”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement flickering across your face. “Big promises from Luigi.”

“I deliver on my promises.” He pauses, his voice dropping slightly, a teasing edge in his tone. “Especially when it comes to rescuing princesses.”

The playful banter between you feels like a dance, each word carefully chosen, each glance lingering just a fraction too long. There’s a buzz in the air—a tension that neither of you seems in a rush to break.

“Alright, Luigi,” you say, setting your empty glass down on the bar. “Convince me.” Luke doesn’t take long to whisk you to the dance floor, the lanky man awkwardly moving his limbs along yours, the smile lighting up his face convincing others to join in, the dance floor filling up quickly. 

Luke’s hands stay linked with yours as he spins you around, twisting your bodies totally off beat, “White girl dancing is my favourite.” He yells over the music, his movements mimicking the slow, seductive sways of a sorority girl. 

“I can tell.” You laugh, your eye catching Dawson’s over the crowd as he pumps his eyebrows in knowing, your shoulders shrugging as you lose yourself back in the feeling of Luke’s god awful dancing. 

It’s two hours before you pull yourself away from the crowd, Luke following behind you like a lost puppy as you reach the bar, skulling the glass of water the bartender offers you. “So, have I convinced you to stay?” Luke smiles, leaning against the counter as he accepts his own glass of water. 

“I suppose.” You smile, placing your empty glass back on the table as you rifle through your purse for your keys. You glance up at Luke his face dropping as you watches you gather your stuff, your witch hat sitting on the bar as you check you have all your belongings. 

“I guess my convincing wasn’t good enough.” He sighs, trying to keep a light smile on his face so you can’t see the disappointment in his eyes. Luke was having fun, finally being able to seperate himself from his brother, he thought you were having fun too - the pretty girl from the head offices finally letting loose all because cause of the borderline frat boy dressed as Luigi. 

But clearly he was wrong. 

“I guess I’ll see you around.” He says, watching as you tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you chew on your bottom lip. 

“Wow, didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so quickly.” You tease, reaching up for the collar of his costume pulling him down until his ear is level with your mouth, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me.” You whisper, Luke’s spine straightening quickly, his eyes locking with yours in surprise. “Guess I know where you stand now, Luigi.” You sigh dramatically, making the move to turn and walk out when his hand latches to your wrist. 

“Wait…Wait…” He stutters, his brows still pinched in confusion, “You want me to come home with you?” 

You quirk a brow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Why else would I ask? To play Mario Kart?" Luke looks momentarily stunned, his hand tightening slightly around your wrist before he catches himself and lets go, running a hand through his messy hair beneath the green cap. He swallows hard, the playful confidence from earlier faltering just a little, replaced by something more raw, more unsure.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong after all. 

“I—I didn’t think…” He trails off, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your mouth and back again, as if trying to gauge if you're serious or just messing with him.

You lean in again, your voice soft but unmistakably deliberate. "What, you didn’t think I’d actually be interested?" His lips part slightly, but no words come out. The party noise seems to fade into the background — the music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses all muffling under the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching me tonight,” you say, your voice low but steady, your eyes locked on his.

“And I’m not blind, Luke. You’ve been flirting since the second you walked over here in that ridiculous costume.”

His cheeks flush a deep pink, but that boyish, crooked grin of his creeps back onto his face. “Maybe I have.”

“And maybe I don’t want the night to end just yet,” you say, your fingers brushing against his arm, trailing down until your hand rests lightly on his wrist again. The tension is thick now — electric and undeniable. Luke steps in closer, closing the space between you. His voice drops to a low murmur, just for you. 

“If I say yes, I’m not just coming over for coffee.”

You bite back a grin, eyes flickering to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Good. I don’t even have coffee at home.” That does it — the playful edge in his grin gives way to something hungrier, more intense. His hand finds your hip, fingers pressing lightly through the fabric of your dress. 

“I’ve never liked coffee anyway.” The air between you hums with anticipation, both of you lingering in that charged moment, knowing exactly what’s coming but savouring the tension for just a little longer.

“Come on, Luigi,” you whisper, stepping back and tugging him toward the door. “Time to see if you really deliver on your promises.” Luke follows without hesitation, his hand still wrapped around yours, the warmth of his palm grounding you both in the moment. As you weave through the crowd, you catch Dawson’s wide-eyed expression from across the room. He mouths what the fuck? at you, but you just flash him a grin over your shoulder. Outside, the cool night air hits your skin, but you barely notice. Luke’s presence next to you, the way his fingers tighten around yours, the way his arm brushes against yours as you walk to your car — it’s all-consuming.

“So,” he says after a beat, voice lighter now but still laced with that playful tension. “Does this mean I’m officially more than just a sidekick?”

You glance up at him as you unlock your car, the smirk on your lips teasing but your gaze soft. “Depends.”

“On what?”

You step in closer, your body nearly pressed against his. “On how well you play the hero.”

Luke leans down, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m pretty sure I can pull it off.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” It’s all the invitation he needs. His hands cup your face as he closes the gap, his lips finding  yours with a mix of urgency and sweetness that leaves you breathless. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing — just the two of you, completely lost in each other.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

“Better than Mario Kart?” he whispers, his voice rough and a little unsteady.

You laugh softly, fingers curling into the fabric of his overalls to keep him close. “Much better.”

Luke grins, his eyes dark with desire but softened by something more genuine beneath it all. “Good. Because I’m not done rescuing you yet.”

You press one more lingering kiss to his lips before stepping back and opening the car door. “Then let’s get out of here, hero.” As he climbs into the passenger seat, pulling the ridiculous green hat off and tossing it into the backseat with a chuckle, you can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — this Halloween party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Luke settles into the passenger seat, stretching his long legs out with a playful groan. His hair is a mess from the hat, sticking up in every direction, and he looks ridiculously good like that — a little wild, a little disheveled. You catch him watching you as you adjust the rearview mirror, his grin lopsided and lazy, the kind of smile that makes your pulse race.

“You’ve got that look on your face again,” you say, glancing at him as you start the car.

“What look?”

“That ‘what the fuck is happening’ look.”

Luke laughs, low and warm, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down. “I can’t believe this is happening, to be fair.” His voice low as he adds, “The ultimate girl boss is inviting me home — maybe I will have to thank Dawson for the party idea.”

"Don't call me that." you say as you roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the butterflies in your stomach. As you pull out of the parking lot, the conversation flows easily. Luke teases you about your driving — “Are you always this aggressive behind the wheel, or is this just a Halloween thing?” — and you fire back with playful jabs about his costume. The sexual tension from the party hasn’t faded; if anything, it’s simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over.

When you reach your apartment, Luke follows you up the stairs, his fingers brushing yours as you unlock the door. The quiet click of the door shutting behind you seems to amplify the tension in the air.

“So, this is it?” he says, glancing around your cozy living room. He looks a little out of place in the Luigi costume, but there’s something endearing about it — like he doesn’t care how ridiculous he looks.

“This is it,” you say, kicking off your shoes and setting your keys on the counter. “Make yourself at home.” Luke takes his time wandering through the space, his fingers trailing over the back of your couch, his gaze flicking to the framed photos on the wall. When he turns back to you, there’s a softness in his expression, but his eyes are still dark with something more.

“You weren’t kidding about the no coffee thing,” he says, peering into the kitchen.

“Told you.”

He steps closer, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. “So, what do you have?”

You lean against the counter, tilting your head. “Depends. What are you in the mood for?”

Luke’s lips twitch into a grin as he closes the distance between you. “I think you already know.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as he stops in front of you, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. His hands find the counter on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he says softly, his voice low and rough. “I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or if you were actually interested.”

Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, your breath catching. “What do you think?”

Luke’s gaze drops to your mouth, lingering for a beat before meeting your eyes again. “I think I’m done guessing.”

His lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring the taste of you. His hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you let yourself melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepens, your bodies pressed together, and you lose yourself in the feeling of his hands exploring your back, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a spark igniting something inside you.

“Luke…” His name slips from your lips in a breathless whisper, and he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. “I hope to god you know how to take a corset off.” Luke’s soft laugh captures your breath as his hands spin your around till you face the counter. 

“One thing about hockey players is we’re good with laces.” He says quietly, making quick work of undoing the ribbon on the back of your corset, letting the faux leather fall off your body once the laces are loose enough, your dress sitting over your frame loosely as Luke’s hands run up your sides. 

“Do you want me to show you something else that hockey players are good at?” Luke asks softly, his lips skimming just under your ear as you nod. Luke moving your quickly as he spins you back around the face him, leaning forwards to capture your lips in a quick kiss before dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands pulling the fabric over your dress up to your waist, motion for you to grip it with your own hands. 

“I need you to stay still for me, Princess.” He coos, his fingers linking in the waistband of your panties before dragging them down your legs, his hands slowly reaching up to rub against the soft skin of your thighs, the plush flesh tensing under his touch. He leans forwards swiping a tentative lick against you, his eyes turned up to yours, watching you as your eyes fall closed, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress for dear life. Happy with your reaction he delves forwards, his tongue pressing flat against you as his nose bumps against your swelling clit. His hands trail softly up the backs of your thighs, over your ass until they sit comfortably on your hips. 

You whimper as he pulls your cunt firmer against his face, his head moving as his tongue circles around your clit, teasing before he sucks the bud into his mouth. “Fuck.” You curse, your back curving against the counter until your resting on your elbows, your head thrown back.. You can feel Lukes’s crooked grin against you as one of his hand drops to lift your thigh, draping the limb over his shoulder opening you up further for him. Luke’s movements become quicker, more feverish as his tongue dips inside you for just a moment before licking back up to your clit. 

“Are fingers allowed, princess?” He questions softly, as he pulls his face away from your cunt much to your dismay, his eyes teasing as you nod quickly, your lip trapped between your teeth as he slides one finger between your folds, gathering any juices he could before slowly pushing the single digit inside of you. 

“God, I can feel how desperate you are.” He coos as you clench around his single finger, a loud branch snapping outside of the shed making you jump, his finger sliding out of you slightly before sliding back in to the third knuckle, Luke chuckling as he presses a kiss against the thigh hanging over his shoulder. “Surprised?” He questions. 

You barely getting a chance to respond, as he sucks your clit sharply releasing it with a grin as you let out a low whine as he presses his thumb harshly against your clit, his fingers calling at just the right time, your cunt clenching so forcefully he lets out a surprised laugh. He pauses his movements for a moment, watching the way you pant as you come down from your orgasm, whispering his name. 

“Jesus, Luke.”

“Don’t praise me yet.” He whispers as he slides your leg off his shoulder, slowly rising to his full height as he towers over you, pushing you further against the counter, “I’m not finished with you.” Luke spins you for the third time of the night, your hands bracing against the counter as you pant, Luke snatching your dress from your hands as he pulls it up and over your head, your breasts falling free as he presses you against the cold kitchen counter. 

“You’re stunning.” He murmurs as his hands make quick work of unbuttoning his overalls, letting them fall to the ground as he steps out of them, your breaths coming faster as you feel his body pressing against yours. His hands slide over your waist, tracing the curve of your hips, before gripping firmly. He’s warm, solid, and the intensity in his gaze when you glance back at him is enough to set your skin ablaze.

Luke leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, voice husky and teasing. “You sure you’re ready for this, Princess?”

You nod, pushing back against him slightly, your body arching into his touch. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t.”

He groans softly, his hands steadying you as he presses a line of kisses along your shoulder and down your back, his lips trailing fire over your skin. His movements are purposeful but unhurried, each touch and kiss designed to build the anticipation thrumming between you. When you feel the tip of his arousal teasing against your entrance, your breath hitches, and he pauses, his fingers tightening on your hips.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. “I’ll let you know.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushes into you, both of you gasping at the sensation. He fills you completely, stretching you in a way that’s almost overwhelming but impossibly good. Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a harsh breath, Luke pausing once he’s fully seated, giving you a moment to adjust, his hand smoothing over your lower back in silent reassurance.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his lips pressing gently to your neck as he waits for you to relax, your pussy squeezing him as you nod your head slowly, letting it drop against the counter. 

“I just need a second.” You hiss, “It always hurts at first.” You add, focusing on your breathing and relaxing your pelvis as Luke tilts his head in confusion, his hands still rubbing against you tenderly. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” He asks carefully, unsure how to help as you adjust a little more, a relieved sigh leaving you as you glance over your shoulder to smile at him. 

“You can move.” You assure him. Luke nods slowly, his movements careful as he puts out and pushes back in, the pain shifting deep in the pit of your stomach as you let out a soft moan. 

“You feel…” he starts, his voice thick with restraint. “Perfect.” You can barely respond, your mind hazy with the pleasure coursing through you. When he starts moving, it’s slow and steady, each thrust measured and deliberate. He watches your reactions closely, the way your body responds to him, the soft sounds that escape your lips.

“Luke,” you whisper, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter for support as he quickens his pace. His name on your lips seems to spur him on, his rhythm becoming more urgent, his grip on your hips firm but not painful. The tension between you builds with every movement, the sensation almost too much to bear. He leans forward, his chest engulfing you as he presses against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you upright. The new angle has you crying out, your head falling back against his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, his lips and teeth teasing your skin.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of awe and desire. “You’re incredible.”

The praise only heightens the sensations coursing through you, your body trembling as you feel yourself nearing the edge. He seems to sense it, his movements becoming even more focused, his free hand sliding down to where your bodies are joined to circle your sensitive clit.

“Come for me,” he urges, his voice low and rough. “I want to feel you.” It’s all you need. The coil of pleasure tightens and then snaps, waves of bliss crashing over you as you cry out his name, your body tightening around him. He follows shortly after, his pace faltering as he lets out a low groan, his grip on you tightening as he finds his release.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high. Luke presses a kiss to your shoulder, his touch suddenly gentle as he leans against you. Luke places one more kiss to your shoulder, before standing up, your body seeming to melt further into the counter as he pulls out - your body cringing as it tries to adjust to the feeling. You take a few more breaths as you listen to Luke pull off the condom and walk across the room to place it in the bin. 

Luke leans against the counter, his hands gripping the edge as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His overalls hang low on his hips, his green shirt untucked and rumpled. He hasn’t said much since pulling away, and now the silence between you feels heavy, like a weight pressing against your chest.

You finish slipping your dress back over your head, your fingers fidgeting with the hem as you glance his way. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable but not indifferent. You can tell there’s something he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat and straightens up, his hands disappearing into his pockets.

"I should probably get going," he says softly, his voice careful, like he’s testing the words out loud.

The tightness in your chest sharpens. You knew this moment was coming—the logical end to what just happened—but it still hits you harder than you expected. You hesitate, watching as he takes a small step toward the door.

"Wait," you blurt out, your voice louder than you intended. He stops immediately, turning to face you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah?" he asks, and you can hear the note of uncertainty in his voice.

Your heart pounds as you scramble to find the right words, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with your now-rumpled dress. "You don’t… you don’t have to go," you say quickly, stumbling over the words. "I mean, it’s late, and…"

Luke’s eyes widen slightly, and you can see something flicker across his face—relief? Hope? He blinks, and his lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. You push on, needing to fill the silence.

"You could stay," you continue, your cheeks flushing. "If you want to. I mean, it’s just… it’s late, and I drove you here anyway—“

"I’d like that," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm.

You stop mid-ramble, staring at him. "You would?"

Luke nods, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He takes a step closer, his hands still buried in his pockets. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I didn’t really want to leave, anyway."

The admission makes your stomach flip, and you glance down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Okay," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can stay."

He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze warm and steady, before he nods again. "Thanks," he says simply, but there’s a weight behind the word that makes your chest tighten in a different way.

You gesture toward the bedroom, your throat dry as you try to keep your voice casual. "Uh, the bed’s big enough… if you’re okay with sharing." Luke’s eyebrows lift slightly, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve made things weird. But then he smiles—soft and genuine—and the tension in your chest eases.

"I’m okay with that," he says, his voice light but sincere.

You nod, turning toward the bedroom. "Okay. I’ll just… get things sorted."

As you step into the room, Luke follows, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. You pull back the covers, smoothing them out as if that will somehow make you feel less nervous. When you glance over your shoulder, he’s standing by the doorway, hesitating.

"You sure?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You meet his gaze and manage a small smile. "Yeah," you say softly. "I’m sure." That seems to be all the reassurance he needs. He steps inside, pulling off his overalls completely and leaving them in a heap on the floor. His green shirt is next to go, his unsurprisingly toned chest making you swallow heavily,  only left in his boxers now, and somehow, the casualness of it makes you feel less self-conscious.

You both climb into the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. For a few moments, neither of you speaks, lying side by side with a cautious amount of space between you. But then, slowly, Luke shifts closer, his arm brushing yours.

"Thanks for asking me to stay," he murmurs, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper. You turn your head to look at him, your face so close to his that you can see the faint freckles scattered across his nose. 

"I didn’t really want you to leave," you admit quietly.

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing yours under the blanket. "Good," he says, his voice warm. "Because I really didn’t want to."

The two of you end up tangled in each other throughout the night, Lukes arm draped over your waist as he drags you across the mattress to press against him, his face tucked into your neck as your relax into the warmth of his chest. 

When you wake up the warmth is gone, the mattress is empty and a small post it note sits on the pillow besides you. 

‘I had fun last night, had to leave early for practice, sorry.’ 

The cold sheets isn’t a surprise as you throw the note across the room, Luke doing exactly you expected the hot shot hockey player to do. 

+

+

“I can’t believe we have to do another company get together.” You huff as you readjust your hair in it’s ponytail for the tenth time, Dawson bouncing besides you in excitement. “And a hike? Who do they think we are? Athletes?” You continue your frown deepening as you watch the tall, curly haired hockey player interact with one of your colleagues a few metres away, his smile lighting up the group around him. 

“Well some of us are athletes.” Dawson teases as he bumps his shoulder into yours, his gaze following yours, a mischievous grin breaking out across his face. “It’s been three months since the halloween party, I think we’re overdue for an outing.” Dawson starts slowly, your gaze flicking over to him, the small cogs in your brain turning as you feel the panic begin to set in. 

“Dawson, don’t you dare.” But he’s already gone, stepping up onto a big rock as he calls attention to himself. 

“I thought it might be good for each of us players to pair up with one of our lovely office workers to really get the full effect of the company bonding.” He suggests, your heart dropping to your stomach as everyone quickly agrees, already spreading themselves out as each player finds someone to team up with, your boss quickly snatching Dawson off his rock as you watch the curly haired man’s blue-green eyes meet yours. 

“Thank me later.” Dawson coos as he starts up the mountain, his arm linked with your boss’s as they ramble as they walk. 

“I’m going to kill that man in his slee— oh hey Luke.” 

“Hey, I um… noticed you didn’t have a partner?” He says, well questions, his brows pinched tight as he studies your body, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, you gaze anywhere but on him. Luke motions for you to start following the rest of your colleagues up the trail before quickly matching your pace, walking besides you easily with his long legs. 

The cool spring air brushes against your skin as you step onto the trail, the sound of chatter and boots hitting the dirt path filling the air. The company hike was supposed to be a casual event, a chance to mingle with colleagues, relax, and get away from the office for a few hours. But, as usual, it feels a little more complicated than it should be.

You glance around the small group you’ve been assigned to — everyone seems in high spirits, laughing and chatting, but you can’t help but feel a sense of discomfort. You’ve been quiet, your mind occupied with thoughts that don’t seem to want to let go.

The trail twists up ahead, and you can feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you. When you glance to the side, you see Luke walking beside you, looking every bit the confident, carefree guy he usually is. But today, there's something different about him. He’s watching you with an expression that seems to mix curiosity and confusion. It’s the kind of look you know too well — the one that tells you he’s trying to figure something out, trying to read you, but doesn’t quite know where to start.

You quickly avert your eyes, focusing on the path ahead, pretending to be absorbed in the beauty of the trail. The last thing you want right now is to deal with whatever this... thing is between you two. Whatever it was that happened the night of the Halloween party, whatever moment was shared between you, has left a lingering tension in the air. It’s subtle but undeniable, and the last few months have been filled with an awkward distance you’re both trying (and failing) to navigate.

Luke seems to notice your change in demeanour right away. You can feel the shift in the atmosphere, the way his presence suddenly feels more pronounced. He slows his pace just slightly, a move that draws you out of your own head, and when you glance at him, he’s giving you that familiar, crooked smile.

"So," he says casually, his hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket. "You’ve been awfully quiet today. Everything okay?"

You shrug, your eyes ahead as you force your voice to sound casual, "Yeah, just... tired, I guess."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "Because you’re usually pretty chatty on these things." The gentle teasing in his voice stings more than it should, but you keep your expression neutral, refusing to let him see the way his words unsettle you. 

"Guess I’m just not feeling it today,” you reply with a half-smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You know he doesn’t buy it — Luke’s not an idiot. He’s seen you in better moods, and knows enough about you from all of his desperate attempts at reconnecting with you through Dawson, that he knows enough to notice the shift in your behaviour toward him. 

Ever since that night, things have been... different. After everything that happened between you two, it felt like one of you was always pulling back, unsure of how to move forward. For you, the uncertainty of the night, the chemistry, and the suddenness of it all left you second-guessing yourself. You never really figured out where you stood with him after that.

Luke takes a deep breath, then breaks the silence with another question, his voice more carefully measured this time, "Is this because of... what happened, that night?"

Your heart skips a beat. You stop in your tracks, suddenly feeling like the ground beneath you has shifted. You don’t want to face this. Not here, not now. But you can’t deny that Luke’s words have hit a nerve, and the air between you both grows thick with unspoken tension.

"Don’t..." you begin, but your voice falters before you can finish. You feel exposed, like a part of you that you’ve kept hidden is being laid bare for him to see.

Luke notices the shift instantly. He takes a half step toward you, a small frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. "I didn’t mean to make things weird," he says quietly, his voice softening in that way it does when he’s being sincere. "I just... don’t get it. You’ve been acting different lately, and I’m not sure why. After that night, it felt like... like something happened, and I guess I’ve just been waiting for you to say something."

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of his words settle on your chest. 

He’s right. 

Things have been different. But you’re not sure how to explain it to him, not when everything you’re feeling seems to clash with what’s happening in your head.

"You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?" His words aren’t accusatory, just observant, and it makes something inside you twist painfully.

You nod, the truth hanging between you both in that awkward silence. You don’t know how to explain the mix of emotions swirling inside you. Part of you wants to laugh it off, pretend it’s nothing, but the other part of you feels the sting of being too close to him and too unsure of where to stand.

Luke takes a step closer, and you can feel the weight of his presence, his eyes not leaving yours. "I didn’t think I’d made you uncomfortable," he says quietly, the tone of his voice softer than usual. "I thought... maybe you had fun. I thought we had fun."

The way he says it, so uncertain, so vulnerable, makes your heart ache. "We did," you reply, barely above a whisper. “You could’ve woken me up before you left, you know?” The words are out of your mouth before you can shove them back in, Luke pausing, his stop forcing you to stop walking as well. 

His mouth drops open as he shoots you a dumbfounded look, “Are you kidding me?” He lets out a shocked laugh before adding, “You didn’t even bother to call me - it’s been three months and you’re holding a grudge because I had to leave early but don’t see anything wrong with you just blatantly ignoring my phone number?” 

“Call you?” Your body almost recoils in shock as you look up at him in confusion. “How was I supposed to call you?” 

Luke looks equally as confused now, his hands perched on his hips as the two of you just stare at each other. “Did you not look on the back of the sticky note?” He asks softly, his face relaxing in understanding as everything seems to click into place. 

You blink at him, still unsure of what he's talking about. “Back of the note?” you echo, your voice unsure, as if you’re not quite processing what he’s saying. You’re trying to piece things together, but it's all so disorienting. This whole conversation feels like a game of telephone gone wrong, and you’ve missed the message completely.

Luke's face softens as if a realisation is dawning on him, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips as he steps a little closer. “Yeah, you know,” he says, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket, “the sticky note I left you the morning after Halloween.” He watches your reaction closely, his eyes flicking from your face to your stiffened posture, noting the way you're not quite meeting his gaze. "I thought it would be pretty obvious..."

You shake your head slowly, heart sinking in your chest. This doesn’t make sense. “I… I didn’t even notice anything on the back.”

Luke tilts his head, eyebrows knitting together as though he's trying to process your words. “Are you serious?” he asks, though not unkindly. He sounds almost amused, but it’s the kind of amusement that’s mixed with a touch of disbelief. You blink, a wave of realisation hitting you, but it doesn’t make things clearer—if anything, it only makes them more confusing. The night of the Halloween party, everything had been a blur after… after what happened between you and Luke. You'd woken up alone, with no trace of him. The only thing you had found was that stupid post it note on your pillow. You’d glanced at it, but in your haze of confusion and disappointment, you had dismissed it as just a random note, trying to rid himself of the guilt of walking out after your night together. You never once thought it would have his number on it.

“I thought you were gone,” you murmur, still not fully understanding. “You just… disappeared. After that night.”Luke’s face softens, his expression shifting from confusion to something quieter, more patient. 

“I didn’t disappear, I just—” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You were sleeping, and most people don’t want to wake up at five in the morning, and I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to see me again after everything. So I thought… I thought the note would be enough. I thought you’d get it.”

You feel the blood rush to your face, the weight of misunderstanding suddenly crashing down on you. That note. All these months, you had been carrying the confusion, the anger, the hurt of what you assumed was his rejection. All this time, you’d believed that he had left without a word, leaving you to overthink every moment, to wonder what went wrong, why it all felt so unfinished. But it wasn’t rejection. It was a miscommunication, a simple mistake in the way you both had handled things.

“I never saw it,” you say quietly, the words almost feeling foreign in your mouth. “I thought… I thought you just left. You had got what you wanted and left.” Luke exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair, a small, sheepish laugh escaping him. 

"Well, now I feel like an idiot." He glances down, clearly embarrassed at how the situation has unfolded, and you see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he’s trying to navigate this, just like you.

“I mean, I should’ve told you,” he continues, his voice softening. “I should’ve woken you up, but I didn’t want to make things awkward if you weren’t interested. I didn’t want to push it if that wasn’t what you wanted.” The words settle between you both, and you feel the air shift, the distance that has been between you for months beginning to dissipate, just a little. The weight in your chest lightens as you finally start to understand what happened, what you both had been too afraid to face, too unsure to talk about.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the apology slipping from your lips before you can stop it. “I should’ve paid more attention.”

Luke shrugs, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “No need to apologise. It’s just... both of us being kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” His smile widens, but it’s not the same playful, confident grin you’re used to seeing. It’s more real, more raw. “I thought you were just avoiding me for some reason, and here you were thinking I ghosted you.”

You let out a small laugh, though it’s mixed with a breath of relief. “I guess we were both just avoiding the obvious.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, his voice easing with the tension. He takes a small step closer, his eyes locking with yours as he lowers his hands from his pockets. “So, now what?”

The question hangs in the air, and you find yourself looking up at him, the distance between you shrinking with every word you say. You take a deep breath, suddenly realising how much this conversation, how much this moment, has been long overdue. The walls you’ve both built around each other are crumbling, slowly but surely.

“Well,” you begin, trying to gather your thoughts as you look at Luke. He’s standing so close now, and despite the lingering awkwardness, there’s something about him that feels more approachable, more open. "I think... maybe we need to stop assuming things about each other. Because, honestly, I had no idea what you were thinking. And you had no idea what I was thinking. So maybe we should just start from scratch."

Luke’s face lights up, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he nods, his eyes bright with a hint of mischief. "I like that idea. Starting from scratch sounds good to me." For the first time in months, you feel a sense of relief flood your chest, the tension between you two breaking apart. . 

“Yeah,” you reply, returning his smile. “How about we start by you giving me your number?”

Luke laughs, the sound light and easy now. “Sure, let’s take our time. But don’t go ghosting me.”

“No more ghosting,” you agree, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you start walking again, side by side.

As you continue up the trail, the tension that once felt so heavy now seems almost silly. What had felt like an insurmountable distance between you two has suddenly shrunk, and you can’t help but wonder how different things might’ve been if you’d both just taken a moment to talk. But for now, you’re content with where you are — a little wiser, a little closer, and finally ready to leave the past behind.

[ladylooch]

Lexi's Most Difficult Patient - [Nico x Lexi]

A/N: Everyone say thank you to Jay (@missjomarch) for this because I told her the fate of this being posted today rested in her hands. But also it’s almost her birthday!!!!!!!! Sooo happy early birthday to my little sister. I love you! Proud of you for all you’ve grown in this last year and cannot wait to see what is next for you!

Originally from this request.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: injury- concussion, one mention of blood

The bright afternoon sun is a little confusing to Lexi Hischier as she hustles into the Prudential Center after her sister in law. Normally, she is used to coming into this arena as the sun is setting or already down, but today’s game is a matinee showdown with the Islanders. The girls drove to the game together, but arrived late due to unexpected traffic. Lexi has Lucie in her arms, her little legs bopping against her mom’s hip as her quick steps lead them down the ramp to the elevator. 

It is ten more minutes before they are settled into their seats in the family section. Lexi and Emma wave to the other WAGS, then quickly focus their attention to the game. 

“Bah!” Lucie points and howls down at the ice. 

“Is daddy out?” Lexi wonders, pressing her lips into Lucie’s brown hair. Her green eyes scan the ice and she smiles when she sees her husband, hustling forward with the puck. 

He looks good today. Nico oozes focus, dialed in to the task at hand despite the earlier game time and lack of a pre-game nap. Lexi isn’t surprised. He had an extra pep in his step this morning when he kissed his girls goodbye. 

“Nico looks good.” Emma murmurs, clapping around Lio in her lap at Nico’s shot attempt. 

“Mhm.” Lexi responds, chewing on her minty gum in anticipation of the next puck drop. 

Things quickly take a sour turn for the Devils after the ten minute mark of the 1st period. What started off as a fast pace game, quickly turned sluggish and frustrating as they began an undisciplined march to the penalty box. Nico spends more time killing penalties than attacking the net and his annoyance is evident as he flips his stick against the boards at the period intermission.

“Is it too early to drink?” Emma jokes, leaning back in her seat. Lio turns around, asking for a snack. “Sure, bubba. Lex, do you two need anything?” 

“Can you grab me some water?” Lexi asks politely. “Oh and a cookie if they have one.”

“Yes! I hope they have the ones from last game.” Emma grins. She stands up, taking Lio’s hand for their climb up the stairs. 

Emma and Lio make it back just as the second period is starting with various treats, including the desired cookies. Lio carefully balances the unopened water bottle in his hands, then beams as he hands it to Lexi.

“Good job, Lee.” His aunt murmurs, then smooches his cheek as he giggles. “How is he so big?” She pouts at Emma.

“I don’t know.” Emma sighs. Lucie had been sitting in Emma’s seat while she was gone. Her aunt scoops her up, smooching at her cheek loudly. “Mwah! How are you so big too, sweet girl?” Lexi smiles, then crosses her legs, leaning forward in her seat as she claps.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get something going.” 

The second period energy is anxious. Lexi spends a lot of it bitting her bottom lip with worry. Hockey is a physical game, but these hits seem on a different level. She closes her eyes as Nico is rocketed into the boards, making the plexiglass sway from the momentum. When she opens her eyes again, she feels immense relief that he is skating away with the play unscathed. 

“Oof.” Emma mutters, holding Lucie tighter.

“Not loving it.” Lexi sighs, putting a hand over her mouth.

She watches as her husband goes into the opposite end corner, fighting hungrily for a puck with the Islanders defenseman. Suddenly, another Islander player comes in and obliterates Nico, bringing an elbow up to his face to follow through his check. Lexi gasps, shooting back in shock in her chair as Nico falls to the ice in obvious pain. Timo comes barreling in, grabbing the defenseman before shaking his gloves lose.

“Ugh! Timo!” Emma grumbles. 

Lexi can’t worry about Timo right now. Her sole focus is on her husband who still has his face resting in his gloves. He lays flat on his chest, then slowly makes his way to his knees, face still buried. The trainer slides across the ice to him. Lexi can feel her chest moving up and down but she doesn’t really breathe. Not until he sits up on his knees. She can’t see his face from where she is, but he looks unsteady on his knees. 

“Take it slow.” Lexi whispers. She brings her clasped hands up to her mouth.

Off to the side, the refs break up Timo and the Islanders defenseman. Timo skates off with a spring in his step towards the Devils locker room. It’s close to the end of the period and blood visibly drips off Timo’s knuckles onto the white surface.

When Nico finally stands up, Emma pats Lexi’s thigh encouragingly. 

“That’s a good sign.”

Lexi nods absentmindedly, then runs an anxious hand through her hair. She looks up at the scoreboard, swallowing heavily as the seconds begin to tick down again. She pulls her phone out of her purse, keeping it in her hand for the next few minutes, waiting for a phone call to come through. Instead, it’s a text asking her to come downstairs to the training room.

“They want me to go down there.”

“Oh no.” Emma frowns. Usually, injured players stick around through the game and families meet up with them after the final buzzer. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for Nico right now. “Do you want me to keep her?” Emma asks about Lucie who is still content in her lap.

“No. I better grab all our stuff.” Lexi decides. She puts her purse back over her shoulders, then grabs the diaper bag before gathering up her daughter. “I’ll see you.” She murmurs to Emma.

“Text me what’s going on when you can.” Emma requests. Lexi nods.

With their daughter in hand, Lexi nervously heads down to the locker room. A team representative meets her at the elevator, then brings her back to the training room. Players flow in and out of the room, getting work done between periods. Timo and Nico are in beds next to each other. Timo’s knuckles are being tended to while Nico lays with a towel over his eyes, mostly undressed from his hockey gear, except for his undershorts.

“Hi baby.” Lexi quietly announces her presence. 

“I can take, Luc.” Timo offers, grinning at his niece.

“No you can’t. You’re bleeding.” The trainer mutters to him. Lexi chuckles.

“Thanks, T. I got her. Thanks for sticking up for her dad out there too.”

“Gonna clock him again in the third.”

“No, you’re not.” Nico mutters. “Keep the team in the game.” 

Lexi and Timo share a look, then she reaches for the towel to lift it from over her husband’s eyes.

“What’s the word?”

“Concussion.” He rolls his eyes. “I disagree.” Lexi’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Why?” 

“Because I’m fine.” He snaps, sitting up. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “The team needs me.” He glares beyond his wife to the team doctor who seems unfazed by Nico’s outburst.

A silent conversation goes between the two of them, like they have already had this conversation out loud and both are too irritated to get into it again in front of Nico’s wife. Lexi looks away from her husband to the team doctor.

“I’ll leave.” Timo murmurs, hopping off the table and lumbering back into the locker room.

“Nico sustained a concussion.” The doctor begins when it is just the three of them. “Testing shows cognitive decline. He is having sensitivity to light and sound. He also thinks I didn’t see him sneak Excedrin from the medicine cabinet, but I did.” Nico rolls his eyes again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” The doctor says with finality. “Out for two weeks. We will monitor symptoms daily.” Nico scoffs, then throws the towel back down on his face, signaling he is done with this discussion.

“Did he lose consciousness?” Lexi asks hesitantly.

“No. Prognosis is good as long as he follows doctors orders.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to follow those, he can follow the wife’s.” The team doctor chuckles.

“I like that. Get him home and resting. He’ll be okay.” The doctor encourages Lexi then exits the room to head back with the rest of the team towards the third period.

“Nico.” Lexi murmurs. “Let’s go home.”

When Nico doesn’t respond. She sets their daughter on his chest. Nico grins, peaking out from the towel at their daughter’s smiley face. The two Hischiers play peek-a-boo with the towel as Lucie’s infections giggles fill the room with happier energy. 

“I’m sorry, babe.” He sighs after a few moments. “I’m just frustrated. The team needs me.”

“So does this team.” Lexi reminds him, biting her bottom lip worriedly at his unfocused gaze. He holds her gaze as best he can, then sighs. 

“I’m gonna shower quick, then we can go home.” Lexi frowns deeper. 

“I don’t want you to fall over in there. Just get you dressed. We can shower together when we get home.” Nico grins excitedly. “Not like that.” She clarifies immediately. Nico scoffs, handing over Lucie so he can stand up.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he hops off the table. He sways into Lexi, stumbling and needing to grab the table for further balance. “I tripped over my feet.” Nico insists at his wife’s worried look.

Lexi watches his retreating back to the locker room. Lucie whines in her arms. 

“Shhh it’s okay, baby.” Lexi murmurs, cradling her daughter’s head to her mouth. 

Nico doesn’t seem phased by Lexi’s worry. 

Fine.

They can do this the hard way then.

- - - 

“Babe.” Nico grumbles as she runs her fingers through his hair to wake him up. He has been sleeping for two hours and it’s time for another check in.

“Mr. Hischier. Please open your eyes.” She drawls at him. He pops a curious eyeball open at her, like maybe she will finally give in to his pleading for sex. “How are you feeling?”

“If I say bad, will you help make me feel better?” He mumbles to her. He bites his bottom lip smugly at his own proposition. “Cause my biggest issue is this.” He grabs her hand, putting it on his growing arousal.

“Mmm.” She mewls to him, squeezing him for a moment. Nico shudders. “I really did want to reward you for being such a good patient today, but you’ve sucked.” She grins at his stammering as she moves away from him.

“Wh-what? I’ve done everything you asked today!” He mutters. “This isn’t fair. Suck my dick, baby. Please. Please, Lex.” He practically howls at her.

“I saw you take the garbage out.” She says, opening up Nico’s iPad to the Notes application. Inside there is seven days of symptom checks from the last week since his injury.

“Am I seriously being punished for taking out the trash?” He gapes at her like she can’t be serious. “What’s next? I get points off for helping with Lucie’s bath time tonight?”

“Your instructions were to what?” He balks, rolling his eyes then wincing at the motion. He brings a hand up, rubbing at the left side of his forehead. 

“Patient showing sings of headache on the left side.” She mumbles as she types.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She says without looking up at him.

“It’s not from the concussion. It’s from my blue balls.”

Lexi giggles, a little snort coming out, which makes Nico laugh too. He groans, throwing his upper body into her lap exasperatedly.

“Not until you can get through the day headache free.” She reminds him, threading her fingers into his long hair. He pops up quickly, then closes one eye in discomfort.

“Maybe if we have sex I will have a headache free day.” He suggests.

“Okay, maybe tomorrow.” She pushes into his head with her pointer finger, forcing his head back down so he is laying in her lap. 

“I miss you.” He sighs dramatically towards the apex of her thighs.

“You are going on the list of top 5 worst patients I have ever had. The newborns in the NICU listened better than you.” She teases him. He moves forward, digging his face into her belly button. Then he lifts her shirt, putting his mouth there and blowing a raspberry into her skin. She feels his teeth from his grin as her abdomen shakes with laughter. “Neeks, focus. What else are you experiencing?”

“Did you write down my blue balls?”

“No!” She explodes with laughter, holding his head to her stomach so he doesn’t shake too much. 

“Um, I’m hungry for puss-“

“Enough.” Lexi says, putting a more professional tone into her voice. “This is serious. You could have longterm brain damage from this. We need to monitor what is happening to you.”

“Babe, I am fine.” He huffs, rolling out of her lap. “I have a headache, yeah. But it’s not like it was the first few days. I haven’t been dizzy.“ He shrugs. “I feel fine.”

“What about sensitivity? You seemed bothered by Lucie’s tears this morning.”

“Yeah because I hate when she cries.” He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lexi looks over Nico for further evaluation. She leans forward, grabbing a wrist to check his pulse. Its strong and steady. She climbs onto his lap, looking into his eyes at his pupils and eye movement. He does seem to be doing better, but Lexi isn’t quite ready to release him back into the world. Sure, Nico has been hurt before, but this one is different. They are parents now, with more responsibilities than ever and the thought of what happens on the ice disrupting their family life has Lexi on edge.

She sighs, carding her fingers through both sides of his long, brown hair. 

“You need a trim.” She mumbles.

“Oh is that on the approved list?” Nico wonders. His hands snake around her hips, pulling her into his body tighter. He lays his head on her breasts, nuzzling his nose and cheek into the right one.

“Yeah.” She says, closing her eye and placing her mouth in the part of his hair. Tears start to sting in her eyes as she clutches Nico to her chest. Her throat begins to tighten, making it difficult to breathe fully or swallow. She sucks her cheeks in, trying to fight the emotions back. She needs to be the strong one right now to get them through this.

“Your heart is pounding.” Nico mumbles, pulling back. She opens her eyes and watches as his brown eyes turn concerned and gooey at her tears. “Baby, I’m okay.” Her bottom lip trembles. Nico runs his hands up from her hips to her back, pressing her into his chest now. Lexi shudders on her next breath.

“I just can’t stomach you not getting better.”

“I know.” He whispers quietly. “But I am getting better. You’re getting me there, sweets.” He rakes his fingers through her hair, then trails them down her spine comfortingly. “I’ll be better. I promise.” His nose digs into her scalp. “What other questions do you have for me?”

“Is that all it takes for you to listen? Tears?” She tries to lighten the mood, wiping her fingers across her wet cheeks.

“Yeah. I hate when you cry too, babe. Makes me feel helpless and sick.” 

“That’s how I feel when I see you laying on the ice like you were.” Nico is quiet, not knowing what he can say to make that better. He is going to get hit. Neither of them can prevent that. 

Lexi presses her palm into the middle of his chest, needing to feel his heart beat. Nico’s hand comes over hers, rubbing over the tendons of her fingers as they sit quietly together. 

“I love you.” Lexi tells him then pulls away. Nico smiles tenderly at her from below. His lips plumpen, asking her for a kiss. She eagerly obliges. Their tongues meld together, lips separating to let each other in. Before Lexi knows it, she is being lifted up as Nico stands. His hands eagerly grip her ass as he walks her down the hallway leading to their bedroom.

“Nico.”

“Shh. Let me love you, baby.”

Lexi melts at his words and needy tone.

When he asks like that, how can she say no?

Read more Nico and Lexi here.

[penwieldingdreamer]

Puppy Issues and Money Problems

Wow, oh my gosh. Thank you everyone for the likes, comments and reblogs. It's been a while since I had so much fun writing and gotten so many notes on a story. This is another one for the Austin thing.

Again, I tried to keep the appearance and description of the reader as vauge as possible, so you guys will be able to come up with your own picture for the reader, only thing I pictured it's a female reader, living in London with her british mother and american father, single mother of two girls Lottie (5) and Millie (3), and two years older than Austin.

Summary: Did Austin start to have feelings for you? Well, he's not too sure, but to you he's a great friend keeping your kids occupied - unfortunately with puppies - and your ex keeps messing up your plans.

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: fluff, some swear words, maybe a few tippos - if so, please let me know

Happy reading and enjoy. And please let me know what you think, if you want to be tagged or taken off the taglist for this.

Tagging: @sqrlgrl22 @buckysteveloki-me @rlinda6 @imusicaddict @fortheloveoffanfic @unicoreads

Aug. 2022

“You like her.”

It wasn't a question, more a statement. He was on a FaceTime call with Kaia, finally having wrapped his day filming when he saw the picture you posted. 

It was Lottie's birthday, so he called her while on his break. Austin was in his costume and feared that your eldest was going to scream when she saw him. He had told them that it was only for.the movie and they shouldn't be frightened but he wasn't too sure at first.

And scream she did, “Aus! Mummy look, it's Austin! He looks really cool and scary.”

His blackened teeth showed when he smiled at the screen, happy to see the girls and you again. It had been a few weeks, usually Lottie would take your phone and send pictures or videos of you cooking and dancing to Elvis or when Millie got a new toy dog and wanted to show him.

“Are you taking good care of yourself?” you asked him, seeing the tiredness reflect in his eyes. Even with his costume and great acting, you knew he wasn't completely okay.

Nodding his head, he was glad you were a friend he could talk to as well. “I do, Florence took me around Budapest yesterday.”

You hummed contentedly, your hands brushing Lottie's curls from your eyes and pulling Millie closer to you. “That's good, Aus, I'm glad to hear that. I'll leave you with the girls, I need to get back to work.”

“Don't work too much, I only ever see you working when Lottie's on the phone.”

“That's because usually those two are making sure my phone gets charged regularly.”

Chuckling, Austin shook his head at your joke. You walked out of the screen and he was left with your girls.

Florence, Zendaya and Timothée had found him amidst all the other actors and extras in the mess hall, laughing and talking on the phone.

“You know, it's kind of disturbing seeing him smile while in costume. He's such a cream pie and then he switches to being a psychotic murderer.” Florence told them, her eyebrows scrunched together as they made their way over to their co-star. 

“Yo, Aus, what's got you all smiling?” Timothée called his fellow actor as they sat down with him. They could see two little girls on the screen talking animatedly about something or other. He knew Austin didn't have kids so they must have been his sister's kids. “Those your nieces?”

Looking up, he grinned at the three and shook his head. “No, they're my friend's girls. Wanna say hello to my friends, girls?”

He saw them nod eagerly and turned his phone to Zendaya, Florence and Timo. The blonde actress crossed her hands over her heart. “Oh my, you guys are so sweet.”

Lottie and Millie were waving at them, broad grins on their faces. “It's my birthday today.”

A chorus of Happy Birthday sounded from his fellow actors and he couldn't help the warmth spreading in his belly. He knew he was friendzoned and he had a girlfriend back in Los Feliz, but he had to admit that whenever he talked to the girls he hoped to have a few minutes with you as well.

Now Austin was looking at Kaia's face and knew that she wasn't just talking about Lottie. "You know she's just a friend and I adore those girls to bits.”

“I know you do, they are cute and if I didn't have a lot on my plate right now I'd fly over and visit them. But Austin, babe, you got to be honest here.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Thank god that bald cap was off for today. “I am, Kaia. We're friends, nothing more.” His voice was low and raspy from tiredness. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” No. “Besides, she's made it clear that I'd have no chance with her, no way in hell. Said she was too old and had two kids.” 

Humming, the model leaned back on her couch, watching him closely. “I miss you, babe.”

“Miss you, too. I'll be in London with Baz and then back in LA for the Governor's. I'd love to see you either way. “How's prep for the series going?”

She smiled at him and he saw the giddiness in her eyes. This was why he fell in love with her, her friendly, eager and lovable persona. “It's good, everyone's super nice and giving me tips. I really love working on that show.”

“Great, I'm glad to hear that.” Thinking back on why they actually had that call he was going to stop thinking about you like that. As he had told Kaia, you really were adamant about just being his friend with the girls taking a liking to him. He had a girlfriend he was proud of and hella in love with.

“Mummy? Can we get a puppy?” 

So why did the image of your daughters and you send warmth cursing through his system?

It was a repeating cycle with Lottie and Millie constantly begging you for a puppy dog. Ever since they had seen Kaia and Austin with Milo they wanted one as well. You sat at your desk working on a new blog article about a new recipe you had tried not too long ago. 

Good thing about your job as a freelancer was, you could work from home. Your oldest was going to start school in a week and Millie was still in Kindergarten so you wanted to focus on them and not be off to work and load those two rascals onto your parents. 

You'd get asked to write a blog or articles for a smaller newspaper. The pay was good and you had the time to work on your own blog as well, which you supposed,  was more of a hobby blog instead of something super serious. You started out as a family friendly blog then turned it into a Mom blog and now it had everything from your day to day life, talking about food, travel and family.

“Baby, I talked to you about that. We can't have a puppy yet. You need to go to school and I need to work as well.”

Her eyebrows creased and her lips pushed together in a tight line as Lottie fixed you with an angry look. “But Austin said if I'm a good girl I'd get a puppy.”

“No baby, he said if you're a good girl and ask me you might get a puppy. There's a huge difference in that statement.” You breathed out a sigh, getting back to the text you were writing.

She stomped her little feet and crossed her arms over her chest. “But I've been a good girl for years. You always tell me later, later. I want a puppy now.” 

God, Butler. Next time I'll kill you.

“We don't have the time for a puppy, Charlotte. That's final.” You hated being the harsh, mean parent but it wasn't going to work out if you started with Well, not right now, after you finished first grade. She was going to keep asking for a puppy for another few weeks.

Wide eyes and a trembling chin were the answer before she ran to her room, feet stomping loudly on the hardwood. “I'm going to call granny and tell her everything!” Her call was followed by the slam of her door.

Great.

Next time you keep talking about a puppy with the girls, you'll be the one dealing with the aftermath. 🫠

You knew he wasn't going to answer, being all around the world and filming Dune: Part 2 but you felt satisfied to give back some of his medicine. The last time Austin had been in London there was no time to meet up, so he sent them both a mini version of Kaia’s dog and promised Lottie and Millie to have her there to show Milo to them. Told them, if they were listening to you and talking with you about it, they might get a real puppy dog. Obviously that one backfired and you got the brunt of it.

Of course Lottie’s tantrum wasn’t the only thing keeping you from writing your article. Just as you thought the day couldn’t get worse.

Had an emergency at work. Don't cash the check.

You've got to be kidding me.

Fuming you instantly dialed Trevor’s number, already feeling your stomach churning from the anger towards your ex partner.

He was making things too fucking difficult for you. The dial tone always had bile rising up at the prospect of talking to him, conditioned like Pavlov's dog.

“Trevor! What the actual hell. You promised this time.”

“I know, but there was something at work and I needed the money.”

Closing your eyes, a deep sigh left your lips. Honestly, it sounded more like a groan than pushing actual air from your mouth. “God damn it. You know it's Lottie's birthday. She wanted to go to football camp this weekend and I already made the payment with the check. How am I supposed to actually pay for that.”

“Well, you could have waited before you started giving out big presents like that.” He mocked, annoyance coloring his voice and you could literally feel the eye roll through the phone. 

Your thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to remain calm was pretty hard right now and you wondered why you ever gave him the time of the day let alone have two kids with him. “You know what? If you were actually decent at keeping to the schedules we set up and being a good father I wouldn't always have to tell the girls excuses why their dad can't come to any of their FUCKING parties or recitals! 

Especially when you're supposed to pay child support because you didn't want them after all and just up and left. It's the third time now in the last two months and I've had it with your excuses.”

“And I fucking told you all the time that those were emerg”

“Work emergencies my arse! Did you fuck your secretary and got her pregnant as well?”

Trevor growled but you could hear a soft gasp. Of course she was there. Alice, his secretary at his office and the reason he left when Millie was only six months. “That's none of your fucking business. You went on dates as well after we broke up, so don't go blaming me if you're frustrated right now. You're blowing this money problem out of fucking proportions. I always paid on time, but I have some financial problems at the moment so you should give me some credit.”

God damn this man.

“I'm not going to give you credit for something you're supposed to do. I'll have my lawyer reach out to you, so you better be able to pay every god damn penny.”

You gave him no chance to answer, hanging up the instant you heard Trevor take a deep breath. “What a fucking tool.”

Told them they needed to talk to you about it. 🙃 Never promised a puppy, but if you want, I can talk to them. A😜

You'd be a lifesaver. They've been little gremlins ever since. 

I'll be done before they're off to bed. Call me and I'll talk to them both about the puppy issue.

“MUMMY! Can we get pancakes for dinner?”

Leaning back in your chair, you groaned deeply. You loved your girls but sometimes you just wanted a break - and a dad for them who'd take them off your hands.

Divider: @cafekitsune

[generalllimaginesss]

Can you do a part 2 of the finsta one with Nico where the reader lets someone scroll through it as part of their Christmas gift?

Like the whole team knows it’s a thing and no one has been able to find it because she blocked them and everyone is dying to see it. Maybe it’s her contribution to a white elephant gift exchange and everyone fights over it. But it’s not Nico who ends up with it and he’s like “but I’m the love of your life” and she’s like “yes and?”

I’m just imagining this finsta has an insane amount of followers and no one knows it’s Mrs. Cap running it. Like all the followers just think it’s run by a diehard fan who understands the sport. And whoever on the team wins the scrolling privileges from her phone dies dead when he sees the amount of followers

I feel like this went so much better in my head, but I couldn’t quite do it justice when I actually wrote it. I’m slowing down writing some just because the holiday season is chaotic and I don’t have as much time. I’m sorry if it’s not quite what you thought of, but I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! Also, Merry Christmas❤️

••

It was a last minute get together, a few of the members of the team lingered in Jersey, some not making it home at all this year. Nico, being the lovely captain that he is, decided to have the few stragglers over for some games and drinks, enjoying the time together without the pressure of hockey lingering over them.

The group currently consisted of Hughes squared, Dougie, Timo, Toffoli, Bratt, Nico, and you, all gathered around the living room. The smell of cookies had infiltrated the room, wafting from the kitchen as a result of your afternoon baking session. Nico was responsible for the decorations and drinks, leaving the sweets and games in the hands of you.

Earlier you had made a group chat with everybody that was planning on coming, explaining the concept of a white elephant gift (gag gifts only edition) and preparing everybody that there would be a game of Cards Against Humanity.

So far Jack had opened a puck from Dougie that was signed, Dougie claiming that it was "priceless." Luke opened the gift that Nico had found at the thrift store, a sequin pillow with Danny DeVito's face on it. Timo opened Bratt's gift, a $25 gift card to Victoria's Secret, a gift that you were going to fight for. Luke's gift was unable to be wrapped properly, a sheet thrown over it instead. Nico picked his and discovered that it was a young palm tree. Dougie opened Jack's gift, a gift card that was specifically for OnlyFans. Bratt opened Toffoli's gift which consisted of an assortment of chocolate in a ziplock bag, the kicker that they were all unwrapped and mixed together. You had opened Timo's gift, a small box that contained Band-Aids and alcohol wipes.

The last box wrapped was small, but wrapped with care, a small bow decorating the top of it. It was Toffoli's turn to open a gift, expecting something good since the last gift was obviously one from you. He pull the bow off and tore into the box, confusion coming across his face as he discovered an envelope labeled TOP SECRET. He cut his eyes at you, you urging him to open the envelope.

"You can't show anybody, Tyler. I mean it," You warned as he opened the envelope and read what was inside. His brows furrowed at first, not sure why the word "finsta" was on the inside, that is until it clicked with him.

"NO WAY," He yelled, the other boys looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I can't show you until everybody has had an opportunity to steal gifts," You explained, the other guys becoming increasingly impatient as they tried to figure out what it could be.

"What the hell did she put together?" Luke asked, trying to peer over Toffoli's shoulder to see what he had.

"Whoever ends up with my gift gets to spend 5 minutes on my finsta," Revealing what the top secret was caused a brief moment of chaos. Luke tried to jump on top of Tyler, but he overshot the distance and ended up face planting on the couch.

"Hey! You have to win it fair and square," You scolded the youngest Hughes.

"Oh, I will. You can bet your ass on that," He gave a warning look to Tyler as he regained his composure and returned to his seat beside Jesper.

"Ok, remember, there's only 2 steals. After the second steal the gift is dead and whoever has it wins it," As you explained the rules, eyeing the Victoria's Secret gift card, the stealing began.

You started it off by handing Timo back his gift, stealing the gift card you wanted.

"Ooh, Cap, you might get lucky with a new nighttime outfit with that gift card," Dougie teased, a pillow chucked at him shortly after caused a wave of laughter from everybody.

Jack was up next, stealing the finsta envelope immediately. He knew he wouldn't end up keeping it, but he had to get his hands on it somehow, even if it wasn't the actual account.

The gift immediately died the next turn, Luke snatching the paper from his brother.

"Give me that," He threw the Danny DeVito pillow at Jack.

The game continued until everybody had either kept their gift, or stolen something. The entire time everybody complained that they didn't end up with your finsta. Nico pouting the most.

"Babe, come on...I'm your boyfriend...the love of your life...your future husband. I think I deserve to see the account," He was trying to pull at your heart strings, but nothing would work. Not his puppy eyes, his pleads, or his hand that was dangerously high on your thigh, covered by a blanket, of course.

"Mhm...and?" Your eyes were filled with a playful banter, but your face was emotionless.

He rolled his eyes, tickling your sides to erupt laughter from you.

"Alright, I've waited long enough. Let me see it," Luke pointed to your phone, his hand motioning for you to hand it over.

You did as he said, but not before starting the timer.

He immediately took note of the username: @/hotforhischier causing his eyes to go wide and his laugh to rock his whole body. The shock didn't stop there, though.

"Holy shit, you have over 25,000 followers? What the hell? You've posted over 3,000 times, like do you even have a life?" He commented on everything he saw while all of the guys were inching closer and closer to him, trying to get a glance of the infamous account. Luke feigned a faint when he realized that you had a viral hockey account.

Nico stared at you the whole time, darkness clouding his eyes as he thought about ways he would get you to show him the account later.

Luke's laugh caught his attention, interrupting his eye contact with you.

"This post says 'The Devil's need to get their head out of their butt and realize that showing off doesn't win games. Somebody relay that message to Jack Hughes." Jack narrowed his eyes at you, not mad, but ready to get his revenge on you.

"There's a ton of thirst trap edits of Nico...a happy birthday post for Coach...SHE MADE A THIRST TRAP VIDEO OF ARBER XHEKAJ," He squealed as he flashed a smirk at Nico, "Damn, that is one good looking man."

Your cheeks were bloodshot. You didn't think he would take the time to watch the videos, but focus on the trash talk that you had posted.

“She calls Mercer ‘Raw Dawg,’” he chuckled.

“Luke, did you just say she made a thirst trap for Arber Xhekaj?” Nico asked, jealousy beginning to boil under his skin.

“Wanna see it?”

“NO! Your 5 minutes is up,” You tried to snatch your phone from him, but he stood up, holding it over his head as if playing a game of keep away.

“Luke Hughes, give me my phone,” You sent warning signs through your gaze, but he didn’t listen, tossing the device across the coffee table to Nico.

It was as if a magnet connected you to the phone, your body flinging itself wherever it went. You tried to climb onto Nico’s back, but he just shook you off.

“Hmm, ‘I’m no doctor, but I have this feeling that Nico feels good enough to come back. Should he really be missing this many games?’” You looked away as his eyebrows created wrinkles in his forehead as they raised.

“Thank God you’re not a doctor because I wasn’t good to go back sooner,” he pinched your side as he continued to scroll through.

“Jack she shits on you, Vanacek, and Schmid a lot,” he chuckled, still pushing you away, keeping you at an arms distance.

“Geez, what did I ever do to you?” A smile rose from Jack, one that was ready to tease you to no end.

“You keep up with the comments too….do these people have any idea who you are? Like you have a few fan accounts that you talk to almost every day!” Nico laughed.

“That’s enough,” You force yourself close enough to snatch it back.

“So what we all can gather from the finsta is that Y/N is the biggest supporter of the Devils and the biggest hater of Jack. I like her,” Luke leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and tilting his head back to sip the beer in the bottle that he was holding.

“I’m not a hater,” Trying to defend yourself was useless, all of the guys looking at you as if to point that out.

“She’s like Jekyll and Hyde,” Bratt pointed out, “To Mrs. Cap, also known as Jekyll and Hyde,” he raised his Old Fashioned to you, the others following with their drink.

“I hate you all,” You blushed, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to expose your lie.

The night was long, most of the guys deciding to stay the night because of the amount of alcohol that coursed through their systems. You didn’t mind though, covering each of the sleeping bodies that littered the living room with a blanket before joining Nico in bed.

“You’re nicer than me…I was going to let them freeze,” he said as he snaked his arm around your waist. He pulled you back to lay down, getting in position to spoon you.

“They’re family, Neeks,” you hummed as he placed a kiss right under your ear.

“Mm, so what are you going to buy with that Victoria’s Secret gift card?”

*

*

*

*

[nicohischierz]

twins??: nico hischier x devs!player

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

"this is really good shea," you praised the boy.

the newest member of the hischier household was showing off his newly acquired cooking skills. it was also because nobody was in the mood to cook.

seamus had decided to join the devils after completing his four years at michigan. saira was now two years old and thrilled to have another 'brother' along with connor.

the little girl had started speaking occasionally, her first words being "con-con".

saira sat on your lap as you fed her some of seamus eggs, taking bites for yourself as well when a wave of nausea hit you. you passed your daughter to her father and ran to the nearest bathroom.

the boys could hear the sound of your retches and promptly pushed the eggs away from them. "hey I had nothing to do with that," he whined.

nico placed saira on the floor before following you to the bathroom. "schatz, are you okay?" he asked, peering his head around the door.

you flushed the toilet and washed your mouth before facing your fiance.

"do you think we can make an appointment with doctor michaels?” you whispered.

nico stared at you.

"dr michaels? your ob/gyn. why do you need to see your ob/gyn?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

it took a second for your words to click in his mind before nico was wrapping you up in his arms. nico bent down and kissed your lips.

"are you sure?" nico asked, gently pressing a hand to your stomach.

you shrugged. "i took two tests, one said negative and the other was positive. then when lindy was talking about dates I realised I missed my period, so I got to wondering if I was actually pregnant or not," you explained.

nico brought you in for another kiss. “whatever she says, we do this together” he promised.

you nodded and kissed him one more time before going out to your friends.

isla gave you a look asking if you were okay and you nodded. “do you guys think you can watch saira for a bit? neeks and i are going to the doctors for a quick check up,” you asked your friend.

“woah why can’t connor and i watch her?” seamus asked, just as he dropped a pan. the boy smiled sheepishly and turned away.

“is everything okay?” connor asked.

you nodded and squeezed his arm. “i’ve just not been feeling well so we’re going to see what’s wrong,” you told them before grabbing your things.

the group stayed in your home, looking after your children whilst you and nico headed to your appointment.

“well y/n, i’d like to say congratulations on your pregnancy,” dr michaels congratulated when she checked the ultrasound.

nico grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“if you see over here, this is baby number one and right there is baby number two,” she pointed towards your two babies.

“hold on did you just say baby number two?”

“twins?”

you and nico asked. dr michaels looked at the two of you and smiled.

“i’d say you’ve got a week of hockey left at best,” she advised.

you and nico looked to each other.

it wasn’t ideal that you were pregnant in the middle of the season but you and nico knew what you had to do.

“is everything okay?” connor asked as soon as you guys walked into your apartment. timo had saira laying on his chest as the two of them slept. isla and jack were looking at baby’s names for their little boy whilst luke was on the phone with his girlfriend.

nico handed him the ultrasound and smiled.

isla caught sight of it and squealed.

“no way!” she ran over to you and hugged you.

you nodded and hugged her, tears streaming down your face.

“we’re having twins,” nico announced.

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — NJ DEVILS (PART TWO)

one — two

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, dawson1417, and 14,971 others

y/ndevils00 hi and welcome back to my channel! this evening we’re going to be discussing the njdevils loss against the minnesotawild so buckle in because this was a very (un)eventful night!

there was one (1) goal made tonight by our pretty boys in red, however Timo told me my skirt was ugly yesterday, so he’s been kicked off of this post! will he redeem himself by the time they play on friday? that depends on if he listens to my demands!

onto the boys who actually made it on the post: jackson tried his hardest but despite that, he did not make a goal 💔 he did however look miserable (see slide 1), spend an insane amount of time watching baby sensory videos on the ipad (see slide 6), get knocked down (see slide 8), and then finally look cool for once in his life (see slide 9)!

swiss rap god got an assist on the only goal of the night, got in a scrum (see slide 7), and looked absolutely traumatized by something on the bench (see slide 2)! i’m not sure what he’s seen in his life but i’d like for him to keep it to himself :)

the crowned king of sweden, jesper bratt, also made an assist on tonight’s goal AND looked adorable and smiled after his own failed goal <3

maraschino cherry did absolutely nothing of note tonight but that’s better than getting a penalty (*cough* tuna *cough*)! so, i took a pic of him smoldering! you look great, zoolander!

and finally, mercy me was actually a sweet little angel tonight who can do absolutely no wrong and who definitely 100% did not pay me at all ever to say any of this!

i hope you all enjoyed tonight’s game because i know i didn’t!

tagged jackhughes, nicohischier, jesperbratt, john.marino97, dawson1417 and njdevils

jackhughes why do you do this to me?

y/ndevils00 i have no idea what you’re talking about

jackhughes also what the hell are baby sensory videos?

y/ndevils00 don’t act like you don’t know, jackson

jackhughes not my name

sharangovich17 they’re videos of bright colored dancing fruits and vegetables over a black screen

jackhughes @/sharangovich17 why do you know this?

y/ndevils00 he has a baby, jackson. unlike some other people on this team 👀

jackhughes still not my name and you still shouldn’t be a mother yet

y/ndevils00 YOU SAID “YET”!

john.marino97 dear god, hughesy what have you done?

john.marino97 not only are you still calling me a cherry, but i’m zoolander now too?

y/ndevils00 this is correct

y/ndevils00 i also complimented you, what do you have to say for yourself?

john.marino97 i don’t know if this warrants a thank you

y/ndevils00 well you just said it, so i’m taking it. you’re welcome! 🤭

john.marino97 idk how he puts up with you

y/ndevils00 if you ever find out, let me know!

user54 omg 4/9 pictures being of jack, their comments about kids, marino hinting at her dating someone?! it’s so obviously jack!

user26 idk, the way she posts about him makes it seem like they’re just good friends

nicohischier i’m honestly not sure what i’m supposed to say to this

nicohischier thank you? i think?

y/ndevils00 you’re so welcome swiss cheese 🤠

nicohischier i take it back

nicohischier we’re no longer friends

y/ndevils00 it’s too late, you signed a blood oath to be my friend forever, remember?

nicohischier ahh is that what i signed when you joined the team? i thought it was the standard NDA

dawson1417 “give me 5 more bucks and i’ll make sure no one knows you paid me for a slide” WHAT IS THIS Y/N/N?!

y/ndevils00 hey! i SAID you didn’t pay me! you just exposed yourself merc-dog

dawson1417 sure, i’m the one who exposed me!

dawson1417 and did you just call me “mercy me”?

user38 her and jack are dating, for sure. barely trying to hide it at this point

jesperbratt i am not the crowned king of sweden, but i appreciate your sentiments y/n!

y/ndevils00 you are the goodest boy of all the boys

jackhughes do i mean nothing to you?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes shhh grownups are talking now

tmeier96 “y/n’s list of demands: bring me an iced coffee, tell me my skirt is pretty and you were lying, convince HIM to let me get a cat, tell nico that swiss cheese IS a cool nickname and that he’s wrong and stupid, get me a blanket because this stupid rink is cold and i hate it here.”

y/nonthegram you have to do them all by thursday. good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor!

jackhughes she’s not getting a cat

trevorzegras @/jackhughes did you let her watch hunger games again after the fire incident?

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras it was one little fire! i hardly think it warrants the banishment of all the movies forever!

trevorzegras @/y/ndevils00 you tried to make your own fire dress and nearly burned down the lake house

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras big talk coming from the guy who helped me

jackhughes @/trevorzegras you WHAT?

user78 DID JACK JUST CONFIRM THEY’RE DATING?!

user19 AND TREVOR?!

trevorzegras hey! i know that ipad kid!

jackhughes don’t encourage her z

[celinegadjovich]

TIMO MEIER

————-

So basically they meet for the first time.

——————————————

Celine's POV:

I was going to a sharks game against the the La Kings with my best friend, Jackie. It's a little tradition we do every once in a while and we decided since we are both off work early, we might as well. We've lived in san jose our whole life and I'm a die hard sharks fan. have been one since i was little. I was also excited to wear my new Meier jersey to the game. He's one of my favorites so to see him in action is exciting. I just picked up Jackie and we were driving to the SAP center while listening to a mix of our favorite music. We had some front row glass seats and damn were these a first and very necessary. "excited?" Jackie asked me. "so excited." i smiled at her . The game started and the sharks were fast, shooting a ton and making a lot of saves. Exactly what we wanted to see.

0-0 after one.

good but not great.

"picture?" Jackie pulled out her phone. "sure." i leaned over and smiled. They took a few that i would for sure be seeing on instagram tomorrow. Second period's underway and boy, the kings were bringing it. Timo meier and Erik Karlsson were skating fast down the ice for the puck that was cleared by Kevin Fiala

The puck was right in front of the boards that were in front of Jackie and i's seats, for a second, i could've sworn Timo looked at me. there was the puck, it looked around centimetres away from his face.contact. Timo collapsed on the ground, hit Logan on the way down and grabbed his face in agony, it seemed like everyone stood up in that arena to make sure that he was okay. newsflash, he definitely wasn't okay. Logan got up fine "oh my gosh, not Meier." Jackie said to me in a tease like way due to her knowing my crush for him, i nodded in agreement oblivious on the way she said it. He got up with the help of the trainers and skated off the ice, still holding his face. "well that sucks." i said to Jackie. "yeah, have to see if the guys can fill in for his absence." she commented. "this is going to sound crazy, but i think he looked at me and then got hit." i whispered to Jackie. "no way," her eyes went big, "really?"

"i'm almost positive." i nodded.

end of the game, 2-1 sharks. heck yeah.

Jackie and i were walking out of the SAP center to my car and i noticed a big bus close to where my car was. Wait what?!? Erik karlsson was getting into it?!?

Timo's POV:

"hey Timo! how's the face feeling?" Logan asked me.

"good, better than before that's for sure." i answered.

"Timo? did you get distracted by a girl and then get hit by a puck?" Mario shouted from the front of the bus. i walked up to where he was sitting.

he showed me the footage of the play and sure enough you can see me look at her and then get hit. i thought no one else would see that, damn it.

"uh yeah." i said nervously to him. he pointed out the window and said, "well, lucky for you, her car is right there." he pointed to a black Chevy Camaro, "so, you should go ask her out." "thank you so much, Mario." i got out of the bus and walked over to the Camaro.

Celine's POV:

I was about to pull out the parking spot when i heard a knock on my door. i looked to the side and Timo Meier was standing there. i lowered my window. "hey, i'm Timo Meier and i think you probably noticed me looking at you earlier in the game so i was wondering if i could get your number?" i was in shock, i mean who wouldn't be when one of their favourite players was asking them for their number? "um yeah sure, my name is Celine by the way." i smiled at him and handed him my phone. "i'll see you some time." he walked back into the bus. i turned to Jackie, "that did not just happened." "oh yeah it did." she smirked.

TIME-SKIP:

Celine's POV:

"this is from a few weeks age but, here we have a photo of Timo Meier before he got hit with a puck and if you look closely you can see him looking forward at a girl in the front seats and then proceeded to get hit with a puck." kevin bieksa said on sportsnet as i was watching. "some other players on the sharks twitted about this, and it's gone a little viral in the hockey community today." he continued. "but let's talk about some games that happened last night...." i stopped playing attention after that. "hey Celine!! come cuddle!!" Timo called me from his room. i stood up from the couch in the living room and walked up to his room. "hey." i said softly. he looked at me and opened his arms, i laid down next to him and snuggled into him. "we are all over the news." i told him.

"yeah, well we're adorable." he shrugged. "yeah, we are."

——————————————

Words: 907

Started: 1/16/23

Ended: 1/16/23

[kxlinthesky]

EPISODE 5 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 4-4 English Translation

WARNING: This chapter contains what I can only call “implied/referenced supreme violence against children” without spoiling anything. This is a big chunk of the chapter and is crucial to the plot, so I can’t place asterisks like previous times without cutting at least half of the chapter off. I apologize for any inconvenience.

--

“Good to know your sense of direction is just as awful in your dreams.”

 A voice echoed in his ears.

An innocent, laughing voice. A girl’s voice.

Holly.

  “... My sense of direction isn’t bad. The place I want to go just keeps moving away from me.” Young Owl’s lips jutted out in a pout.

Beside him, Holly rolled her eyes. “What’s that even mean? If you’re scared of getting lost, maybe you should stop wandering around all over the place, like Miss Junie keeps saying.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not scared.”

“But you’re saying your dream’s scary.”

“That’s... that’s just a dream, though. You’ve got stuff that scares you, too, right Holly? Like the director.”

“I’m not scared of the director.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying! I’ve got my lucky charm, so I’m fine.” Holly puffed out her chest, pointing to the necklace hanging around her neck. The gold medal glinted in the sunlight. “This is a memento of my mom’s. I like it ‘cause it’s pretty. Mom said that the pendant protects whoever wears it from scary things, so I’ve got nothing to be afraid of!”

“How does a medal protect you?”

“I dunno, but my mom wasn’t a liar.... Oh, hey, I’ve got an idea!” Holly clapped her hands and leaned forward. “Maybe if you pray on this, it’ll protect you from your nightmares! Wanna try?”

“... How unscientific.”

“Science is so boring. Mom said, ‘As long as you have this, the great angels will be able to find you wherever you are. They guide us.’ We’re ‘the chosen people,’ or something. You know Quinn, he’s a year older, and Launy, he’s two years younger, they both have charms like this too.”

“Do they?”

“You didn’t know? Quinn’s got a handkerchief with this same design on it, and Launy’s got a brooch. Everyone prays to the angels. I think I was allowed into the orphanage ‘cause of this charm, ‘cause y’know, orphans like us usually go off to work and don’t get to have educations. Hey, why don’t you make your own charm? I’ll help!” Holly held her medal up again.

“Thanks,” Owl said, sounding completely uninterested. “But I think I’ll pass on the whole praying thing.”

“How come? I came up with this great idea and everything.”

“’Cause it’s more fun talking to you, since you’re in front of me, than praying to angels from who-knows-where. Besides, whenever I talk to you up in the tree like this, I feel like everything will be okay even after I have that dream again.”

Holly blinked. Her eyes widened. “... Does that mean I’m your angel?” she asked shyly.

“Huh?... I mean, I guess?”

The girl’s cheeks flamed red.

Young Owl’s head tilted. Just then, he thought he could hear an adult’s voice. “Huh? What is that?” He glanced through the gaps in the tree branches toward the sound of the voice. There, through the leaves, he spied a well-dressed adult down on the ground looking for someone. He looked angry.

Just when Owl was wondering what he was up to, two students wearing the same uniform as him came up. “Hey, honor student, Mr. Rob’s looking for you,” one of them said.

“Did you do something again?” the other asked. The pair quietly crept up to the tree Holly and Owl were in with identical grins.

“Timo, Gil. No, I didn’t do anything.”

“You sure you didn’t take Teach’s math textbook again?”

“I didn’t take anything. It was in the bookcase, so I read it, that’s all.”

“That’s all? Sure there’s nothing else?”

“... Well, I guess I did rewrite some of the equations in the workbook because the teacher wrote them wrong,” admitted Owl.

The two boys below laughed. “Serves him right.”

“Yeah, Mr. Rob’s always yelling at us, he sucks.”

“That’s not nice,” scolded Holly. “You shouldn’t damage his reputation like that.”

“Why? If he’s using the wrong formulas, then he’s the one in the wrong,” Owl pointed out, shaking his head.

The adult’s voice called out again, clearer this time. He was getting closer.

“Hey, maybe you should get outta here? Just until supper?”

“We’ll hold him off for you.”

“Yeah, if you give us half your dessert tomorrow.”

“Done.” Owl slithered down the tree, giving each boy a firm nod.

“Be careful,” called Holly from above.

“Yeah.”

Holly looked down on him from up in the tree, her face obscured by the backlight from the setting sun. The only thing he could see clearly, in fact, was the sparkling medal against her chest. What a strange design, Owl thought to himself.

 Most devotional medals like that had saints or the Virgin Mary inscribed on them, but that medal’s design was almost like –

 Almost like....

  “... Three flowers...!”

The medal slipped from Owl’s grasp and clattered to the floor. It rolled to a halt at his feet. He clutched his head, all the air in his lungs fleeing him at once. He sucked in a deep breath. The memories that had come rushing back left him dizzy. “It can’t be,” he breathed. “That design....”

He took a step back from the medal. His entire body trembled. His heart pounded furiously against his ribcage, each thump sending a wave of pain through his chest.

“Holly....”

Her name rattled in his dry throat. Decade old memories tumbled around in his brain, pried loose for the first time in years.

Owl had been in an orphanage in the middle of a forest back then. They took him in when they found him wandering around with amnesia. He’d waited with the police for a while for his parents to show up, but no one turned up looking for their lost kid, so off to the orphanage he went. It was there where he made friends with a girl, innocent and childlike and always by his side – Holly.

And she had an old medal, with the exact same design as the symbols here on Teos.

 “She was one of the people chosen by the angels...?” His voice came out as a gravelly whisper, fighting its way out of his dry throat. “Was she – was she actually a descendant... of the people of Teos...?”

Just as the words passed through his lips, a scene unfurled in his mind’s eye, a scene from a long, long time ago dyed in deep scarlet. A horrific memory, dredged up from the depths of his consciousness.

“AGH...!”

 – bodies blanketed in black thorns, children screaming, the church burning, a dark forest –

 “STOP...!”

Owl buried his face in his hands with a shout, chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. No, not now, don’t think about it now, think of something else, now is not the time for a flashback. The words ran through his brain, words he’d repeated since childhood to control himself. He focused on thinking of every equation he could, every formula, proper numbers applied to proper calculations. He forcefully controlled his breathing and wrangled his roiling emotions back under lock and key.

“... Damn it.”

Somehow, he managed to shove his recovered memories into a tiny corner of his brain. He lightly pounded his fist to his chest, then turned his gaze back down to the medal lying at his feet. He reached out to pick it up.

But just then –

“Waah...!”

A scream echoed from nearby, mixing and mingling with the yelps of the animals outside, and Ralph came bursting out of a side room.

“Ralph?”

Ralph groaned, one hand pressed to his mouth and nose as he all but crumpled to his knees. The poor man’s face was deathly pale and contorted in anguish, his legs shaking too badly to stand.

“Ralph?! Are you okay?!���

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s just... the smell....”

“The smell?”

“It’s making – making me sick....”

Owl glanced into the room he’d come out of. A confessional, maybe, or a prayer room, though it was hard to tell since it was pitch-black inside. What had shocked Ralph so? Owl walked closer.

“You mustn’t, Master Owl!” cried Ralph urgently. “Don’t go inside!”

Unfortunately for him, Owl’s curiosity won out over any trepidation. He continued to approach the room, because right now, he needed to think about anything else besides the horrific, painful memories.

“Don’t!”

Ralph’s entreaties only spurred him on further. Owl peered inside to find –

“What – what is...?!”

His legs froze as if encased in ice. His whole body soon followed.

 A world steeped in malevolence lay on the other side.

 “Master Owl, you can’t, go...!”

Ralph yanked Owl’s hand, begging him to step away with his fingers curling like a vice grip around the detective’s wrist. He’d already stopped breathing – no doubt he couldn’t bear the smell permeating the room.

 It was the overwhelming stench of death, after all.

 “Tristan! TRISTAN!”

Owl briefly left the room to shout outside.

Tristan peered through the window. “What is it, Owl?”

“Ralph’s had a bad shock. Help him!”

“Ralph did? Hold on.” Tristan slipped through the window and immediately went to Ralph’s side. Owl went to the room once more.

“Master Owl!” called Ralph.

“It’s fine.”

Owl took a single step inside the room. White fragments snapped under his heels... pieces of bone. Nausea roiled in Owl’s gut, but he held it down by tightly squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he finally felt able to open them again, he glanced around the room.

No windows, only stone walls covered in dark red messages scrawled in paint.

No, not paint. Blood. Old, dried blood.

Countless words covered the walls and floor, so thorough and so tightly packed that it dyed the stone itself a permanent shade of burgundy, leaving hardly any gaps free to see the bare wall underneath. The bloody missives, clearly scribbled by the desperate and cornered, positively reeked of distress and impatience.

They all looked like alchemical techniques. Owl could see the traces of transmutation where through his monocle, but he wasn’t seeing the usual fog or golden sparkles or anything like that. No, these traces oozed like thick sludge, repulsive and sticky and clinging to every available surface.

He hesitated to even breathe in here. Bones littered the floor. He desperately hoped that they were simply the remains of animals who’d wandered in and gotten lost, but....

“These are human,” said a voice from the entryway. Tristan. “Children, based on the size.”

Owl’s breath caught. He bit his lip. He’d thought the same, of course, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real.

Tristan stepped inside, his eyes roving the walls. “They performed a forbidden technique after all...” he murmured, aggrieved.

Owl’s eyes had at some point slipped shut without him noticing. It took a great deal of courage to open them again. “A forbidden technique... like the one at the McCreeches?”

“This is even more repugnant than that. This is a cursed rite – an unforgivable secret art.” Tristan picked up one of the bones. “This is an arm, hm. Severed quite neatly from the shoulder joint, at that. There are similar marks on some of the other bones here.” The gentleman clicked his tongue, a very un-Tristan-like gesture. “This was the site of human transmutation.”

“Human transmutation....”

“The person who conducted this strung a number of corpses together and used them to create a single living, breathing human, I would guess. Much like Victor Frankenstein.” Tristan pulled something from his pocket – a small notepad, caked in dirt and falling apart at the seams.

“What’s that?”

“I found this in a corner of the yard outside. There was an alchemist who lived here in the past who was trying to accomplish something.”

“... You’re kidding me.”

Owl took the notebook and carefully flipped through the crinkled pages. It was a diary spanning several years, based on the dates of the entries. Much of it was illegible thanks to all the exposure to the elements, but he could still make some bits out here and there.

  XX Month XX Day

My daughter’s body is decaying even more.

I have to hurry.

I can’t stand the thought of losing her like this on top of everything else.

If I can make the perfect matter, surely I can bring her soul back to me.

  XX Month XX Day

I had no choice but to discard her body. It was too rotten.

If only I could’ve at least preserved her beautiful face....

  XX Month XX Day

The people from town came again.

They were talking nonsense about burying my daughter!

She’s not dead yet!

She’ll come back as long as I get my hands on a PERFECT BODY!

  XX Month XX Day

A strange man came to visit, so I chased him off.

Smiley bastard.

He was probably some undertaker the townsfolk sent.

  XX Month XX Day

The man came again.

How did he know I was looking for the recipe for the perfect matter...?

  XX Month XX Day

I don’t believe it.

That man knows the recipe?

It’s impossible, there’s simply no way... is he telling the truth?

  XX Month XX Day

If what he says is true

If a spell like that really exists, could I actually make it?

A new body, for my daughter....

If I find the island he was talking about....

  XX Month XX Day

That man had the gall to say to me, “Are you prepared to commit a taboo act?”

Of course I am! I’ve been prepared for a long, long time!

  “... This is....” Owl gasped. The words “new body” swam in his mind as he shut the notebook. The deep-seated hatred oozing from the pages gave him quite the headache. “This is a log of an alchemist who tried to perform human transmutation?”

“So it would seem. The alchemist was strung along by a certain man, came to this island, and conducted research on transmuting the human body. This uninhabited place was the ideal environment for such heretical work.”

“Uninhabited....” Owl’s eyes fell to the bones at his feet. The sheer number of them indicated quite the number of people. “Then where did these come from?” he asked doubtfully.

The bones scattered throughout the room all appeared to belong to children, but there were a staggering number of them. On top of that, not a single skull could be found among them.

“We can’t be sure whether someone sent the ‘materials’ here, or whether they were already here from the start....” Tristan reached for the notebook and rifled through the pages. He stopped and pointed at a certain point.

  XX Month XX Day

The contents of the bag that was brought to me prior to departure are still fresh, even after several years have passed.

The arms look like they could move at any second.

The sections are beautiful and vibrant, like they were only procured yesterday.

How did he get his hands on these ‘materials’...?

 Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.

As long as I can get my daughter back, nothing else matters.

  XX Month XX Day

The legs and hearts among the ‘materials’ are particularly spectacular. Such vivid color. Slender, healthy... they’ll fit my daughter wonderfully.

The only problem is those unsightly black rose markings.

  XX Month XX Day

It’s almost ready!

My daughter will soon be revived!!

The ‘parts’ that man got for me have produced remarkable results!

Though I do have to wonder where he gathered bodies with such concentrated magical energy from.

I think he said something about descendants of Teos....

  XX Month XX Day

IT WORKED!!

My daughter was resurrected.

She came back to me.

She’s just like she was before... no, she’s even more flawless now.

I don’t even have to worry about her feeble body anymore. This is cause for celebration!!

 Now all that’s left is to restore her soul to this body!!

  XX Month XX Day

Something’s wrong.

Her eyes won’t open. And I’ve been feeling a strange presence for a few days now.

There’s a voice in my head saying, “Offer her unto me,” and... “Leave the flask.”

Is my daughter this “flask?”

Did that man trick me?

No. I can’t stand the thought of losing her again.

I have to leave the island for now and hide her body somewhere....

Oh, what if I change her into a different form and leave her somewhere where no one will ever find her? That ought to work.

  The rest of the pages were blank.

 Owl’s fingers trembled like he’d seen something truly monstrous. “The human transmutation succeeded? It really exists? Using kids’ bodies to make another person?”

“Most likely.”

“That’s horrific...!” Owl’s teeth gnashed together. The word choice along left his body shaking with rage. Tristan’s deductions at the hotel were right on the money, it seemed, as much as he wished they weren’t.

 Arms.

Legs.

And hearts, and healthy bodies.

Materials.

Descendants of Teos.

 Flask.

 The notebook fell from Owl’s clutches and clattered to the floor.

Flask.

The word was still fresh in his mind.

The angel with the cold, cold smile, Mastema, had said that word at the McCreech estate.

That’s what he had called Ellie – “flask.”

 “... If that alchemist, if he took his daughter’s new body and turned it into a new form... like a white statue, and hid it somewhere....”

 His mind went further back, to the day he and Ellie first met.

 “Everything started with that unknown statue of a young girl....”

 The dots were connecting one by one in his head. And they were forming a picture.

 “Ellie... was made here, as a homunculus...?!”

 Not every mystery was solved yet. He still didn’t know how something that was supposed to have been hidden ended up as part of that auction. But the conclusion he drew from the evidence at hand painted quite the cruel picture.

 “It can’t be....”

Overwhelming shock rolled through his system. He very nearly lost the strength to stand, only managing to stay upright by grabbing onto a nearby dresser before he hit the floor.

“Owl.” Tristan reached out for his son.

“... I’m fine.” Owl slapped his hand away and straightened up. As he did, his foot bumped into a wooden crate underneath the dresser, knocking the lid off with a loud clatter. He glanced down with a faint hum of surprise, then paused, squinting down for several seconds... before he reached down and picked the lid up, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He waved the dust away, then reached inside the crate and pulled its contents out. “This... this is....”

The instant he realized what he held in his hands, a violent wave of vertigo once again overtook him. He stumbled back a step. He couldn’t stand being in its presence.

Tristan saw what he was holding and grew pale as well. “Owl, that’s....”

He was silent.

“Isn’t that the uniform from the orphanage you were at?”

Owl’s shoulders shook. The light gray fabric, the long bishop sleeves, the large white collar – yes, it was without a doubt the uniform from the orphanage where he’d once lived. “Why... why is this... here...?”

The box contained more than just uniforms. Buttons, shoes, emblems he remembered seeing at the orphanage... the whole thing was haphazardly packed with objects someone had deemed unnecessary. Owl trembled like a leaf.

 It can’t be, there’s no way, this can’t be true, this absolutely can’t be right, this is unforgivable!

Owl’s head shook back and forth. He couldn’t – he just couldn’t fathom the horrific images his brain was throwing at him.

 “... These must be the clothes of the children they used for parts.”

“!!!”

“Perhaps, on the day of that fire....”

Owl’s imagination ground to a halt at that.

 “No...!”

 Another step back. The uniform slipped from his grasp. Owl gripped at his skull and shouted, “NO!!” The flustered boy had gone deathly pale.

Tristan grabbed Owl’s shoulder to steady him. “Let’s go,” he said, carefully steering his son out of the room.

 “... Timo, Gil, Holly...! HOLLY! NO!”

“Calm down, Owl.”

“It can’t be true, everyone was here? No, no, it can’t...!”

“Owl.”

“And I heard that Holly’s body was never recovered after it burned down! I thought they didn’t find all the bodies because some of them got away... I thought they made it out safe, I thought they were living somewhere peacefully this whole time...!”

“Look at me, Owl, there’s a good boy.”

“But they were all here, they were made into this... why?!”

“Owl! Look at me!”

Tristan snapped his fingers directly in front of the panicking Owl’s face. The boy yelped, turning to look at him with eyes still wavering in confusion.

“Take a deep breath.”

“... Tristan,” whispered Owl.

“Remember who you are. Remember what you are. A case has happened, and you’re standing here now as a detective, are you not?”

“... Yeah.”

“If you want to believe it’s a lie and turn your eyes from the truth, that’s your business. I don’t want to see your heart break. You can forget everything you saw here and we can go back home right now if you want.” Tristan looked Owl dead in the eyes. “What do you say?”

 BOOM!

Just then, a quake rocked the ground powerful enough to rock the entire island.

“What was that?!” Owl and Tristan cried out in unison, glancing around.

“It’s an earthquake!” Clemens shouted from outside the window. “Owl, Tristan, get out of there, now! It’s coming down!” The priest was holding onto Ralph, who was trying to scramble out of the room.

“Shit –!”

The pair fled the church through the window together just in time for the ceiling to crash down in a cascade of bricks right where they’d been standing. They didn’t have time to register the terror of how close a call that was, though, because when Owl saw the scene unfolding before his eyes he was struck utterly dumb.

Everyone’s attention was on the volcano.

“An eruption...?”

“No, that’s not an eruption. That’s not smoke.”

At first, everyone assumed the volcano was erupting. But looking closely, it looked nothing like an eruption. The mountaintop, which had until that point been quiet and peaceful, emitted some kind of hazy something or other. It wasn’t lava, and it wasn’t smoke. No ash or cinders or anything fell from its summit. But if it wasn’t an eruption, then what was it spouting? The same question whirled through everyone’s minds as they watched on, the volcano producing more and more of that hazy substance with greater and greater force. In a mere heartbeat, the entire surrounding area was blanketed in the stuff, blocking the sunlight and coloring the sky the deep hue of despair. This was serious, whatever it was. The four decided to get some distance for the time being....

And then they heard someone singing.

 Our God

Our Guide of Love

I am a Servant

Who won’t clear away your grief

 “That voice!”

“Owl! That’s –”

“It’s him!!”

Owl and Tristan recognized it immediately. They knew who that voice belonged to.

And when their eyes turned once more to the volcano, Owl saw something.

And in the next instant he was gone, racing toward the mountain.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

[qrrieterisunnq]

Devils vs Canucks - Nico Hischier

nico!hischier x ainsley!hughes SUMMARY: Ainsley meets Nico for the first time at the game Canucks play against the Devils. WARNINGS: none WORD COUNT: 1,8K AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know this took a little too long but we're finally there! I finally finished the second part! I hope you will like it! It's probably not the best fic I wrote but I think it's great after my block! PART OF THE SWISS LOVE CHARM AU

the swiss love charm au

The sound of the horn sounds through The Rock signaling the end of the second intermission for the Devils vs Canucks game. The score is tied 3:3, with two Devils goals and one for canucks in the second period. Both the Devils and Canucks make their way down the tunnel to their locker rooms as they breath heavy and talk about the game.

“Thank you so much for the interview, Quinn!” the reporter says with a wide smile as she checks Quinn from head to toe.

“Yeah me too.” He coughs and moves from the camera right into his sister's side, who looks at him with amusement written all over her face.

“She was so flirting with you Quinny!” Ainsley giggles as they make their way down the tunnel to the canucks locker room.

“No, she wasn’t. You’re just seeing things.” Quinn shook his head, but he knew his twin was right. He saw the reporter's look and felt her burning gaze on him, but she was not his type. She has too much makeup on her face to his liking and doesn’t look like a wifey type.

“Sure buddy, whatever makes you sleep better at night.” She nudges him with a playful grin.

“Yeah, whatever.” He says with a grin nudging her back, causing her to stumble slightly.

“Okay, guys! Listen up!” coach Tocchet’s voice sounds through the locker room when Quinn and Ainsley enter. “You’re doing amazing! Demko, you made a lot of important saves so, good job. We’re moving to plan B –attacking more than in the first two periods.”

Coach speaks for more minutes, while Ainsley takes pictures of the guys on her phone so she can post them lately on the team's Instagram.

She closely listens to what Coach Tocchet and the boys have to say while she texts Elen asking how Freya is doing. Elen and Jim are looking after Freya in the family longue watching her uncles play a first game against each other.

“How’s she doing?” Elias nudges her leg with his stick, grinning up at her. She smacks his head before a wide smile forms on her full lips.

“Oh she’s enjoying so much, says that ‘Uncle Petey is rocking it’ and that she wants to kiss him for the goal,” Ainsley rolls her eyes at him when she sees the grin on his lips. “And that she can’t wait to see Quinny, Lulu, and Jacky.” She giggles when she looks at Quinn who’s grinning ear to ear.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see the little pumpkin too, even though I see her almost every day.” He smiles wiping away the drops of sweat on his forehead.

The buzzer sounds through the arena announcing the beginning of the third period, with all three of Hughe’s brothers on the ice. The last intermission was aggressive from both teams. Five penalties were called in the first eight minutes, two from the Devils and three from canucks. In the tenth minute, the Devils scored a goal getting them in a lead but not for a long time. Two minutes later Canucks answered with a beautiful goal scored by Miller.

The next six minutes were spent skating across the ice with no goal or penalties, only a few attempts at scoring a goal. There are ticking last seconds on the clock with the score tied 4:4, leading the game in over time.

That is until Nico gets a puck and elegantly skates through the Canucks defense getting an amazing chance to score. All eyes are on him, even Ainsley’s who’s watching him while holding her breath as he swings his stick, hitting the puck and sending it straight into the net. The buzz sound comes a second after the puck hits the back of the net.

Jack, Jesper, Luke, and Timo skate towards Nico, wide grins on their lips as they jump on him patting his hands and cheering, just like the other who are slamming their sticks against the boards.

“Nico the Captain!” Timo yells shaking, Nico’s shoulder almost knocking him on the ground.

“Fucking yes! Captain!” Jack and Luke shout at the same time, as they skate toward the center of the ice, to make a last face-off.

“Okay! Calm down, boys. We still have a second of the game,” he grins at them, but his hands shake with excitement and adrenaline, too.

On the way to his spot, his eyes roam the arena with a big smile on his lips, his eyes linger on the Canucks bench for a little longer eyeing one person standing in the corner and filming the canucks guys on the bench.

“Uncles!” a high-pitched voice sounds through the hall where the Hughes siblings are already waiting for their parents and the little two-year-old girl to reach them.

“Oh, pumpkin!” Jack shrieks, running to the little girl who laughs so hard that Ainsley is worried about her falling as she runs towards her uncle.

“Uncle Bear!” she giggles as soon as Jack reaches her, pulling her in a tight hug, and peppering her face with kisses, causing her to laugh even harder. “Tickles!” she yelps out trying to snuggle away from his grasp, but her other uncle saves her as he almost rips her away from his brother's arms snuggling her to his chest.

“Hi there little Monkey!” Luke whispers in her ear, kissing her cheeks.

“Uncle Giant, I mwissed you.” She whispers in his ear playing with his hair on the nape of his neck.

“Oh, I missed you too, monkey, so fucking much.” He says back smiling widely as he watches her childish features. “We have to Facetime more often.” He grins at her before she wiggles out of his grasp, running to her last uncle Quinn who scoops her up resting her on his hip.

“So how did you enjoy the game, pumpkin?” he asks her swaying with her on the place.

“Yes, I did!” She smiles, showing her beautiful teeth. Quinn grins at her, kissing her forehead before he hands her to his sister, who willingly takes her daughter to her.

Freya immediately snuggles in her chest, yawning. Ains smiles gently at her, running a hand down her back to get her asleep.

“Oh, Quinn, Ains, I want you to meet our captain, Nico Hischier!” he points at the person who steps out of the locker room. His hair is wet from the shower he took, a black suit hugs his body, and a bag hangs from his shoulder. Nico whips his head in the direction the Hughes family is standing and an awkward smile forms on his lips as he slowly approaches them.

 “Nico! This is my brother Quinn and my sister Ainsley.” He grins when Quinn pulls out his hand to shake with Nico’s who gladly takes it.

“Nice to meet you, man! Heard a lot about you.” Nico smiles excitement bubbling inside him. He admires the Hughes brothers. He loves their loyalty and love for each other. Plus Quinn is his idol. He admires how he moves on the ice, the way he steals pucks from the opponents and the way he can shoot a goal from everywhere.

“Pleasure is on my side. Finally meeting the guy my brothers can’t stop talking about.” Quinn sends a smirk in the direction of his brothers.

“Mommy, I’m tired.” Freya's voice interrupts Quinn and Nico from their small talk, diverting their attention to the small girl.

“I know baby, and I promise we’ll leave in a few okay?” Ainsley says, pushing away a few strands of a black hair from the little girl's face. Nico watches their interaction with an unknown feeling forming in his chest. Even though he never met Ainsley in person till today, he feels like he knows her and her daughter so much.

“We can take her to the boy’s place if she wants to sleep,” Ellen offers with a soft smile lingering on her lips as she caresses her granddaughter's back. “We’ll crash in too.” She adds quickly when she sees the look on her daughter's face.

“Are you sure mom?” she still asks looking between her mom and dad. She doesn’t want to bother them even though she knows they love their little girl so much.

“Positive, A. Enjoy the rest of the night with your brothers. Go have some fun.” This time it’s Jim, who steps forward taking half-sleeping Freya in his arms.

“Thank you.” She kisses her parents' cheeks quickly before they leave with a goodbye. She then turns to face her brothers and Nico. “It’s nice to meet you, Lukey talks a lot about you.” in response to that Luke mutters quietly ‘I do not’ causing you all to laugh at the blushing boy.

“Oh Lukey, you don’t have to pretend, I know you have a crush on me.” Nio teases him before he shifts his attention back to you. “Anyway, nice to meet you. Hear a lot about you. Luke and Jack can’t stop talking about you.” He smiles at her extending his hand towards her. Ainsley takes it shaking it firmly.

“Hope it were a good things, only.” She blushes under Nico’s intense look.

“The best.” Luke wiggles his brows laughing with others.

“Anyway I’ve gotta go, my sister’s in town and we’re going to have a sibling reunion,” He smiles softly at the thought of his sister. He loves Nina so much and he would do everything to protect and make her happy. Even watching Gossip Girls with her all night and letting her do a skincare on him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Quinn, you too Ainsley,” he smiles before he leans closer to her whispering, “You are the prettiest Hughes from the four!” he says quietly but loud enough for her brothers to hear.

“Hey! Hischier! That’s my little sis, watch your mouth!” Quinn says in a serious tone but a smile lays on his lips. Nico just laughs before he leaves with a goodbye.

“So you ready for a sibling night?” Luke asks, jumping on a place.

“Oh, Luke! Chill out!” Jack nudges his shoulder, trying to calm si little brother down. “We have a lot of time to get there!” he laughs nudging him again.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Quinn asks wrapping his arm around Ainsley and bringing her closer to him as they slowly make their way to the garages to Jack’s car.

“Oh, just a Chinese restaurant I and Luke spend a lot of time in,” Jack pulls Ainsley away from Quinn pulling her in his body as he hands her the keys from his car. “You’ll love it, I promise!”

“And you will love the spring rolls and kung pao!” Luke ads, saliva forming in his mouth at the thought of his favorite Chinese food.

[emwritesfootball]

Innocent | Mason Mount

Mason Mount, the two of you being seen as the most innocent couple of the team until one day when you all spend the night at a players house the two of you are fucking wildly in one of the guestrooms due to thinking everyones asleep as you become too loud and they come into the room while he’s taking you from behind in front of the mirror choking you, all in shock while they start to tease you from that day onwards

Word Count: 612

Warnings: rough sex, doggy/choking, getting walked in on

- - -

When Chilly invited everyone over to his place for a debaucherous night of drinking, you were happy to tag along with Mason. Everyone was surprised to see you there with him; usually, you hung back when it came to outings like this but lately you’d been feeling like you needed to bond with his teammates more, so here you were.

You knocked back a few shots, matching Timo for each one before you tapped out. You knew you’d be ill too early if you kept it up, but the lads seemed to be impressed with what you’d shown so far. The rest of the night was a blur until you and Mason went to bed, claiming one of the two guest bedrooms before anyone else.

Spurred on by the alcohol and your hormones, you started kissing him, your hand trailing down his body to cup his erection. “We can’t,” Mason moaned, but his body told you otherwise.

“I think we can.”

“I’m not fucking you in Ben’s guest room.”

“Why not?” You pouted, kissing him in earnest. “We’ve been talking about fucking in risque places - this could be one of them.”

Mason couldn’t say no, especially when you put your mouth on his cock and started sucking him off. He pulled you roughly off his dick, finally taking charge. “On your knees - now,” he growled. You obeyed, your pussy getting wet at hearing him order you around.

You loved getting fucked by Mason in any position but doggy was by far one of your favourites. He gripped your hair hard, pulling so he could arch your back and hit your g-spot just right as he thrust into you.

“Be a good girl and watch yourself in the mirror,” Mason groaned, the order making your pussy clench around his cock and making him curse. “Fuck, you look so sexy taking my dick like this,”

“Oh, god, Mase!” You whimpered, dropping to your elbows to let him hit you deeper, your fingers fisting in the sheets in the same way Mason’s hand was wrapping around your throat.

“Oh, god is right!” Came a voice followed by a juvenile giggle.

Your orgasm disappeared right in front of you, Mason stilled inside you as both of you looked up to find Timo, Chilly, Kai and Kepa watching you. “Is that always how you fuck her, Mase?” Ben asked, quirking an eyebrow at his best mate.

“I give it to her any way she asks for it, right, love?” You let out a moan when Mason slid out of you, throwing the comforter over you and wrapping the sheet around his waist.

“Yes, you do - he does.” You glared at the four boys in the doorway. “He was about to give it to me so good I wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow, but I guess now that’s out of the question…”

“Leave me alone, lads. I’ve gotta tend to my woman,” Mason said, grinning at his teammates before shutting the door in their faces and locking it before turning back to you. “Now, where were we?”

You made even more noise this time, making sure the rest of the house knew just how good Mason was giving it to you.

Of course, from that day on, the four of them wouldn’t stop teasing you. They could tell when you and Mason had had sex before coming to an event, always giving you looks and asking just how good Mason had fucked you out this time. You and Mason would always share a smile, saying nothing in order to keep them guessing as to what the two of you had gotten up to in the bedroom earlier.

[ladylooch]

Cups and Cradles - [Timo x Emma]

A/N: Our sweet Livy girl coming to fruition. I love this. Laughable that Timo thought they could go months without each other 🙄 Thankfully he is married to Emma.

Word Count: 4.3k

Emma Meier considers herself a good wife. 

She loves her husband, takes care of him, and offers support when things are going haywire in his life. She birthed a baby for him, designed a house that they both love, and dutifully attends a majority of his home games.

But this shit, she did not sign up for.

Inside their master bathroom, Emma smoothes on her night time skin cream, asking herself how she is going to get through who knows how many weeks of this crap.

The crap? No sex until playoffs are over- Stanley Cup or not. With how dominating the Devils were in their first series, she has legitimate concerns hopes that the Devils will reach the Stanley Cup finals. This means she has weeks, maybe months, left of no dick. With that realization, Emma sighs heavily, arms slapping the sides of her thighs. She glances into the bedroom at her nightstand where her various vibrators sit. 

They’re just not the same. 

She puts her robe back on it’s hook by the shower, then pads into their bedroom. She has to hold in the moan at how damn sexy her husband looks with their son sleeping on his chest. Timo rests propped up with several pillows behind his back. On his chest, Lio sleeps soundly in dinosaur pajamas, little lips pulled open into an oval. He’s been out for awhile. They have been good about Lio sleeping in his bed lately, but the little boy is getting over a stomach bug that required a lot more daddy snuggles than usual. 

Beneath Lio, her husband is shirtless, grey sweatpants resting low on his hips. The band of his underwear lays flat against his muscular abdomen, stretching the words Calvin Klein across his skin in a way that makes Emma want to sink to her knees. In Timo’s hands is a small iPad. He casts game film onto the large TV in front of their bed. His eyes are focused, examining the play again as he rewinds the footage. 

Emma’s brown orbs narrow at his lack of attention to her. She’s in silk, ivory pajamas. Her skimpy tank top dips low over her cleavage and her nipples perk from the soft fabric brushing them. The shorts barely cover her ass, which she makes sure he realizes as she leans down to gather Lio into her arms.

“No.” Timo pouts, but allows her take him.

“You’ll have plenty of time with him this week.” Emma reminds him as Timo kisses Lio’s head for a final time that night. The Devils are the only team done with their series and it’s likely they won’t be back in game play for over 7 days while the other series finishes. 

Emma saunters out of the room, but steals a look at her husband who has his eyes glued to her ass. When he sees she caught him looking, he grins and shrugs, then goes back to game tape with a smug face. Emma sighs. Damn him. Damn his rules. Damn him for putting on those pants that he knows drive her crazy! Never mind that she did the same thing with these pajamas.

Emma lays Lio down in his bed, smoothing his hair down and tucking him in for the night. His little lips flutter in a sleepy sigh. His fingers reach out for something, curling into his blanket. Emma holds her breath until she is sure he is going to stay asleep. Then she carefully tip toes from the room. 

As she comes up on their bedroom door, she slows her pace. Peeking in, Timo is where she left him. His left hand muses at his bottom lip as his gaze drags across the TV. The starkness of his wedding ring on his finger has wetness pooling in Emma’s core. All of that gorgeous man is hers. Forever. 

Wordlessly, Emma continues into the room. She stops at the end of the bed, slightly blocking the TV he is so interested in tonight. He does a double take at her, blue gaze darkening when he sees the wanting so clearly etched into her face. Timo’s fingers click the iPad to go dark, causing the TV behind her to turn black. He slowly puts the iPad on his nightstand, then looks at Emma with his hands braced on his big thighs. 

Emma presses her palms on the expensive bedding she picked out a few weeks ago, then she drags one knee up. Timo licks his lips, eyes drinking her in like he’s starving the way she is too. She drags her other knee up, then places the final palm on the bed so she is on all fours. When she begins to crawl, Timo’s eyes close in defeat.

“Fuck.”

“You? Yeah I’m going to.” 

Emma continues to crawl up his spread legs. The closer she gets, the more his cock swells in his sweatpants. Emma hovers over his lap, then leans forward, maintaining eye contact as she presses her lips to his thin happy trail. She runs her tongue along it, flat, like she would if it was his cock, then kisses up the ridges of his abdomen. Emma’s hands stay on either side of his hips, careful not to touch him any way except with her mouth.

Timo can’t keep his hands to himself. From above her, he runs his fingers through her hair, resting that big hand on the back of her neck to hold her in her next kiss. She sucks his skin into her mouth, worming her tongue along the pinkening slice of abdomen. 

“You look like you need something big in that mouth.” His voice is gravely, low, dangerous, the way he gets when he’s incredibly turned on. Emma smirks then kisses over the tent in his sweatpants.

“But baby, no sex during the playoffs?” Emma pouts dramatically at him, pressing her breasts together with her biceps so he can see the deep canyon of her cleavage from above. When he doesn’t answer, Emma puts her mouth back on his happy trail, allowing her tongue to graze the waistband of his underwear. Timo sighs in exasperation, trying not to moan as she keeps working her lips over him.

But Timo Meier is only a mortal man. 

And somehow, his right hand gathers a boob into it. He massages her breast gently until her nipple reveals it’s self again. Then he scrapes the edge of his pointer finger along the perky tip, flicking it for good measure. As he does that, Emma peels the waistband of his pants away. Timo’s cock flaps out against his abdomen, taut and ready to be buried in whatever hole his wife will give him. Emma continues her teasing, bringing her open mouth close to his cock, but not touching it. Instead, she kisses around it with wet, sucking kisses that make his shaft throb and tighten every time she raises her mouth.

“Babe.” Timo groans. His weakness for her is throwing any reservations on this to the wind. 

He is a weak, weak man.

“Put it in your mouth or I’ll do it for you.” Timo snaps at her when she runs just the tip of her tongue on the cleft of his head.

“This is your rule. You break it.” She challenges. Call Emma a control freak, she doesn’t care. But damn does she love watching her husband lose it for her. 

Emma stays perched on her knees, mouth wide open, tongue out and flat, brown eyes boring into his until Timo moves his hand. He grips the base of his shaft then slaps his swollen tip against her tongue. He glides his head up her wet muscle until it disappears behind her teeth. Emma collects him at the back of her throat, then she shoves his hand away to choke on his cock like the good wife he deserves. A tortured groan squeezes from Timo’s throat as her hand works him over too. 

“Oh. Baby, that feels incredible.” He praises her. “Mmm, you miss sucking on this, huh?” He asks her, pressing her head gently down him more. Emma breathes through the gag, then drags her mouth up him excruciatingly slow. As she does this, her tongue laps at the underside of his shaft. Timo gathers her hair up so he can watch her mouth work him over. His hips start listing up into her mouth. Emma can feel his hand shaking to resist fucking her mouth too hard. 

He only lets her do this for a few minutes, long enough that they both get enjoyment from it, but not long enough that he explodes.

“Off. I am not coming in your mouth.” He pulls Emma off his cock with a firm grip on her hair. Emma’s eyes widen excitedly. He chuckles knowingly, appreciating how hot it is that she likes to be handled roughly. 

Timo reaches his hands out to help her crawl up to him. Then he kisses her mouth deeply, threading his fingers through her hair lovingly this time. Their tongues connect. Timo sucks on her top lip, then presses her hips down to rest on his cock laying attentively on his stomach. Emma rolls her hips, dragging the silk of her shorts along his erection until he gets fed up and pulls her up so she kneels over him on all fours. 

Timo’s hands come to her shorts. He ignores the bow on them, deciding that will take too long. Instead, he grips the waistband, ripping them down her thighs so he can bury his fingers in her core. He fucks her harshly, her wetness coating his fingers while the noise takes over the room. 

Emma’s breathing hitches as his fingers curl up, playing with velvety walls.

“Fuck.” Emma hisses. Her head drops back to the ceiling and she smiles happily. This feels so damn good with him. Perfect. Exactly what she needed. With her eyes closed, she feels Timo nudge her nipple over the silk camisole. She wraps her hand around the back of his head, holding him there as he sucks it through the thin material. Emma arches against his fingers and he grins.

“Needy as fuck.” Her face snaps back to his, glaring.

“Yeah! I’ve been without you for so long.”

“It’s been two weeks, babe.” He laughs against her wet shirt. He pulls back, pushing the fabric up to get her bare nipple. His tongue probes it, tracing the bumps around it until his lips enclose the sensitive bud. Emma moans, loudly, then begins to pant as he works his fingers in the perfect rhythm with his mouth. Then his thumb drags across her clit. 

“Mmm.” Emma sighs to him, pressing her hips down onto his hand. Just as she feels herself about to explode, Timo stops. “No!” She cries. 

“I need to be inside of you. You feel way too good right now.” Timo insists. 

“That was so mean.” Emma whines as his fingers slide out of her. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” He murmurs. Emma rolls to the side. She wraps her hand around his cock, stroking it a few times then leaning forward to suck on his swollen head again. Timo’s hand comes under her chin, pulling her off. “Get up here.”

Dutifully, Emma wiggles her pajama bottoms the rest of the way off her legs, then she crawls on top of Timo, ass facing him for reverse cowgirl. This way he’ll fill her the fullest, especially when his hand pushes into her stomach like… that. 

Emma and Timo groan in unison as she slides down him completely. She stays there for a moment, rolling her hips forward and back, letting that fullness consume her senses until she can’t stand it anymore. Then she lifts and slams back down him. Her ass bounces against the V of his tight abdomen. He meets her thrust the next time she does this, causing an electric surge to go through her body. Goosebumps break out on her arms. Emma grips the edge of her camisole, taking it off in one swoop and tossing it to the floor. 

Her hands move in front of her between Timo’s spread legs. Then she curls her legs closer to his body to give herself the most leverage. 

“Oh my god.” Timo moans. His large hands come to her ass, spreading her cheeks apart to watch her pussy swallow him with each downward thrust. “Baby.” He groans this time. Emma can hear his head hit the headboard as he leans back. She looks over her shoulder at him, grinning at his blissed out look. His hands slide from her ass to her hips, feeling the way she rolls and presses down on his cock. He cups her waist puling her back onto him, wide fingers spreading out along her stomach. She moves his right hand towards her belly button, pressing in. 

Emma works herself back on his cock harder, faster than she can remember doing with him before. She reaches back to hold an ass cheek up as Timo presses more into her stomach. The girth of him has her tempo faltering for a moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck… oh…” Emma pants, then shakes as she comes undone. Her orgasm rips through her, almost taking Timo with her.

But he still owes her one. 

Once, she slows her bucks back onto him, Timo holds her in place for a moment, so he can get on his knees. Then he gently drags himself out of her. 

“The mess you just made on my cock.” He smirks.

Timo drags his head through her slit, teasing her. Emma feels the mess collect there, then he pushes back into her and she sees stars. Timo wraps a hand around her stomach, rolling her clit as they begin their climb again. He’s gentle, knowing she’s sensitive, but wanting her to build fast. He’s still just a man after all. And his wife knows all the ways to tease him. Like she is right now, purposefully fluttering her walls around him.

Emma can tell when her husband has had about enough of that. His hand twirling her clit gets faster. His hips pump deeper and harsher into her and her body weight is forced deep into the mattress. Emma lays there, letting him use her, feeling the delicious build. The waves lap at her body, making her warm, loose. She enjoys the climb this time, barely able to moan out her pleasure as Timo fucks her hard, fast, fully, just like she needs. 

Timo releases her hip, leaning forward to run his hand along her forearm. Then he tangles the fingers of their left hands together. As his thumb strums her clit harder, Emma squeezes his fingers. 

“That good, baby?” Timo grunts into her ear. 

“Yeah.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yeah!” She whimpers.

Timo kisses her cheek, collapsing down more for long thrusts into her pussy. Emma wails out his name, then comes hard around his cock. Timo pushes jerky thrusts through her second orgasm then fills his wife up like he promised. When Emma recovers, she pushes her hips back into him to keep his cock buried inside of her. Timo noses her shoulder, then plumps his lips along her shoulder blade. 

“Worth it?” Emma whispers to him, walls still fluttering around him, making him wince from the sensitivity.

“You always are, baby.”

Emma smiles, then lays forward as he slides from her core. She crosses her legs while Timo lays back, putting a big paw on her bare ass. He wiggles it in his grasp, then sighs happily. His fingers keep rubbing over her butt, lulling her further into her happy, blissful state. Emma can still feel the comforting heat of his cum inside of her as she rolls over to her back. Her gaze connects with the glass of water on her nightstand. She sits up, then takes big sip before hurrying herself across the floor to the bathroom. 

It isn’t until she is cleaning Timo’s cum out from between her thighs that she remembers the other reason they were waiting until after playoffs. She walks to the bathroom door, looking out at Timo who lays in bed, still naked, with his eyes closed.

“I’m not on any birth control.” Emma murmurs. 

“Oh fuck.” Timo starts to laugh, remembering as she does her appointment to remove her IUD two weeks ago. After the season officially ended, they were going to start trying. Getting pregnant now would be a huge distraction down the stretch. Emma cringes, then chuckles.

“Forgot about that…” She tosses the towel she had been using into their laundry hamper. 

“I doubt you’ll get pregnant after one time.”

Emma gives him a ‘really’ look then points toward their son’s room.

“To be fair that was three times.”

“Yeah, back when you used to love me.” Emma pouts, climbing into bed with him.

“You can do it, baby. We all gotta sacrifice for the cup.”

For the second time that night, Emma can’t remember why she signed up for this shit.

- - -

Despite the constant presence of nausea, Emma Meier could not be happier as she watches the final 15 seconds of the game trickle down. The Devils are up 4-2 after an empty netter by Jack Hughes. The Stanley Cup returning to Jersey is imminent. Emma stands with her son in her hands, trying not to lose it completely as the whole Devils bench rises, bouncing excitedly.

5 seconds now. Emma cheers loudly with her sister-in-law, Lexi, who proudly stands next to her. The two women look at each other, both obviously crying as their husbands mutual dream comes true below. 

The final horn sounds. 

Prudential Center is electric. The cheering raises the hair on Emma’s arms as she bounces Lio gently but excitedly in her hands. He laughs loudly, cupping his little hands over his ear protection. 

Next time they are in this building, Emma will be considerably more pregnant. 

She found out close to two weeks ago, right before the Stanley Cup Finals began. Timo doesn’t know. Emma didn’t want to distract him with any of this before the biggest series of his career. Not when he has worked so hard for this. With this being her second pregnancy, Emma knows what to worry about and everything has been fine. Except the sickness she’s had the last four days. She could do without that. Timo hasn’t seemed to notice her frequent trips to the bathroom. But he has been a hockey machine and trying to rest to nurse his several nagging injuries.

Emma and Lexi stay in place for the celebration and the ceremony. Emma almost sobs so hard she throws up when her brother lifts that Cup. Indescribable, that’s how she will explain it to him later. She knows how hard their family has worked, the sacrifices, the way they all showed up for him over the years. All of that effort is what helps Nico thrust that glorious silver cup into the air. She yells back like his screams are for her then turns to the left to hug both of her parents.

Damn, this day is wrecking her. 

She turns back to the ice in time to watch her brother skate his lap. He comes closer to them, thrusting it even higher, yelling louder. The whole group screams back at him. Emma wraps an arm around Lexi, squeezing her tight with their babies in their other arms. The two women hold each other through Timo getting the cup too. Then the group ignites wildly again. Lio tries to hide his face from the excitement. Emma kisses his head, then softly coos in Swiss German for him to look at Daddy. 

Timo’s grin as he looks up at them, the Cup over his head, is an image Emma will never forget. All their dreams coming true in this moment. A Cup, a healthy baby, happily married with another one on the way.

Suddenly, the secret she has kept from him for two weeks, feels impossible to hold. She wants to tell him. Now.

With her family, including Timo’s parents and Larissa, Emma heads down to the ice with the rest of the Devils family members. They all chat excitedly, barely able to hold back for the rest of the laps before the doors open and the carpets are rolled out. Lexi takes off first, rushing over the red carpet to leap into Nico’s arms. He catches her effortlessly.

Emma’s approach to Timo is more cautious with the precious cargo she carries.

“I can take Lio?” Her dad offers in Swiss German as her mom is loaded down with a tired Lucie.

“No, I want to bring him to T.” She tells her dad.

Emma steps onto the carpet laid over the ice, smiling at Timo who immediately clocks his wife and child. She hugs Lio closer to her, carefully continuing forward towards him. Timo slows down on the ice next to her.

“Hi Timo Meier, Stanley Cup champion.” Emma greets him with a huge, teary grin. Then her and Lio are in his arms. Tears splash out onto Timo’s jersey, not that anyone would notice with how wet it already is. 

“You won!” Lio giggles to his dad. “Puck!” He hands Timo the puck he flipped his son from warm ups. It now has Emma’s writing on it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to tell him, but once the puck hit Lio’s hands earlier, she knew this was it. She just needed Timo to win in order for it to be perfect.

Timo Meier, Stanley Cup Champion, Husband, Father of 2!

Timo tilts his head as he reads it, then snaps his gaze to his wife. His blue eyes are widened like saucers. For a man who refused to come in her mouth weeks ago, he sure looks shocked at how his wife could be carrying his child again.

“Wait, what? How!?” 

“We can recreate it later.” She smirks. Timo pauses, then connects the dots. 

“No… baby, but how?”

“You insisted on not coming in my mouth, remember? About 6 weeks ago?”

“I….okay that’s on me.” He takes Lio from her and gives him a smooch. “6 weeks… you been keeping this from me?” Emma nods her head. 

“You had a few other priorities, no?” Timo scoffs.

“You know where you lie in all of this.” Again, Emma nods; she’s number one. She reaches for Lio, smoothing his jersey back down his body where it had ridden up against Timo’s equipment. Nervously, her hands reach for her husband next, stepping closer again so she can whisper to him.

“Are you happy?” Emma asks, unsure. Her fingers hold the back of his neck to keep them close. He looks at her and she’s got tears in her eyes. Even though she knows this time is different, old feelings from this moment with Lio are right there below the surface, making her stomach bubbly. 

“Wha- yes, Em. Of course I am!” He chuckles. A hand comes to her cheek so he can hold her face close to his and kiss her. “I’ve been wanting this. So much. You know that.” Emma nods then presses their lips together. It’s a soft, sweet kiss they never want to end. 

“We have a baby!” Lio cheers. Timo cups Lio’s head against his shoulder to quiet the announcement from reaching outside their little huddle.

“Our baby, huh?” Timo smiles, leaning down to kiss Emma again. “I love you. So much. So lucky to do this all over again with you.”

Suddenly, Emma is snatched from Timo’s arms by the Devils captain. Nico lifts his sister up, twirling her around as her husband frantically gasps.

“Hey, Hey, HEY! Nico, put her down!”

Emma cuts Timo with a look as Nico puts her back on her boots.

“It’s fine, T.” Emma assures her cranky husband. Emma wraps her arms around Nico’s shoulders to hug him. His long brown hair flops in front of his face as he hugs her deeply. “I am so proud of you.” She tells her little brother. “But who do you think you are laying out to block shots like that?” She asks, pulling away and shoving at his chest. 

“I don’t know.” Nico answers honestly with a laugh. “Lee! Come see me!” Nico turns his attention to the boy in Timo’s arms. Lio practically dives into Nico’s chest. With free hands now, Timo comes to his wife, wrapping her into a tight hug. The smell is triggering to Emma who pats his back for him to let her go.

“I love you so much, but you stink.” 

“Here we go again.” Timo teases her, rolling his eyes. But when he looks back at his wife, he’s drowning in obvious love.

Another baby is joining their perfect world. Timo is a Stanley Cup champion now. What else could this little family want?

Emma glances over to where Lexi is returning to the ice with Lucie. She’s got little pom poms in her pony tail and adorable red boots on her feet with black leggings and a tiny Devils jersey. Lucie reaches for her uncle Timo when she sees him. Lexi and Emma line the two hockey players up with the kids, snapping pictures of them together. 

Seeing her husband with their niece, Emma can’t help but ask the universe for one more thing: a baby girl.

Read more Timo and Emma here.

[awellboiledicicle]

A fun thing is it was traditional in some places for the grooms family to visit the brides for a feast before the actual wedding.

So Hypnos did pleading eyes at Nyx and Than to pleaaaaase come eat with her family. Pleaaaase.

Which they do because its quaint and also Thanatos was going to say no but Zagreus leaned on him about it. Everyone else was either busy or not a great idea to invite so they just.

Show up, looking a bit more mortal so as to not freak anyone out.

Timos parents are losing their shit internally because it really is just them and any female relatives her mother could find on short notice. Her brothers are debating posturing at a god about being kind to their sister. Her mother is terrified her food wont be good enough.

None of them expected Thanatos. Nyx, sure, fine, but death himself? Fear.fresco

And they all eat at once instead of separated because are You going to tell Mother Night she cant eat until the men are done? Because I wouldn't.

That said Hypnos is mildly disappointed Timo is wrapped up and veiled for the most part because he already isnt allowed to go hug her in greeting and now he doesnt get to see her? Rude mortal things. He wants to know if her hair's still shiny and bouncy in person. But hes not disappointed seeing her. Because he can see her eyes and they look even more stormy than in dreams. The lamplight makes them shimmer and they're narrowed when looking at him, hinting that shes smiling really hard under the veil.

Aldo keep imagining the dinner convo being started by her youngest brother who doesnt 100% know what's going on. Just this five year old going

"Sir Hypnos, do you hunt?"

"Er, not really. But I fish with my bud Zagreus now and then! Do you?"

The child shakes his head. Hypnos doesnt need to say anything to half recall glimpsing tiny dreams of the lad with a bow too big for him and hounds the size of cows. Its adorable when the boy looks very serious and nods.

"I catch rabbits! But I cant tie snares real good yet, so big brothers help!"

Timo's mother meanwhile is rather bravely pressing Nyx on what the House is like and how she believes Timo will be treated. Nyx is coolly reassuring, if nothing else. Its nice to see mortals care enough to edge at a god about someone close to them. Then again, it's also nice to speak to another mother of things mothers concern themselves with. Shes reassured that Timo will know how to keep Hypnos in order, if nothing else.

Than is beset by her older brothers and tries very hard not to teleport away with all the attention that isn't... well, being upset to see him. One even claps him on the shoulder during a story about travelling to locate missing sheep. It's weird and he kind of wishes Zagreus came with because he'd find this far more engaging. He couldn't, naturally, but still. Its oddly nice.

Hypnos is also being very seriously charted at by her father because it's a serious boon, presumably, to have godly inlaws. Not to mention hes kind of... it's not taking a loss, really, but it's not like a boon from Hypnos to the family is the same as like Persephone blessing crops to always be fruitful or Artemis blessing hunts. Not that "your kin shall always have restful sleep, in all times" is BAD it's just not flashy. So hes talking to see what Hypnos gets here bc the dowry isnt... amazing. Its cloth and thread and dye. Her bridal chest is just things like pots and pans and her loom. Hes honored but confused.

Timo is spending most the time staring at Hypnos.He already told her his appearance would be a shade or two more mortal looking while outside Hades, but it's still bewitching. His hair looks even more like soft down and his skin is a beautiful shade. The tips of his ears keep darkening as he embarrassedly answers her father's questions. His eyes make gold look like it had never known luster. She wished she didmt have to sit apart from him, but manners.

I just. (Shakes ideas)

[chincilla-on-the-moon]

“I like you too idiot.”- Connor Murphy X Reader

Request: can u do a connor x reader where reader is being pretty annoyed with Jared on the first day (like when he calls him a school shooter) and he steps in and defends her leading timo a nice friendship and a love confession from Connor at the end? I’m sending love, and if u can’t it is really ok, everyone’s mental health is important, pls don’t feel overwhelmed 💕✨🦋- Anon 

Word Count: 2,542

Warnings: A couple swears and Jared Klienman being a dick. (also Connor is probs written ooc but whatever)

Authors note: Hi everyone! First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who requested something! I am trying to work on them but I recently fell into a really bad place mentally but I’m working on making it better. I hope to have the other requests out soon but please be patient with me. Also anon I used they/them pronouns for the reader as those are my pronouns and I want to make sure everyone can I enjoy my writing regardless of gender so I hope that okay.  As always thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day/night! :) <3 (Also any feedback is very appreciated. )

First day of senior year. To say you weren’t excited would be the understatement of the century. Sure you were excited to finally get out of your hometown but you had to get through the school year first and if the previous years were any indication of how this year was going to go, well lets just say it's going to be a long year. 

You pulled into the student parking lot in your shitty car and saw there were a couple extra minutes before you actually had to be in the building, With that in mind you decided to just put your head down  on the steering wheel for a few minutes to prepare yourself for the day ahead. 

That peace was short lived though because not even  30 seconds later did a dark truck pulled up next to you. Before the car could even come to a stop Zoe Murphy flew out of the passenger seat. She flipped off the driver, who you presumed was her brother Connor, and slammed the door before storming off into the school. “Jesus” you mutter  to yourself. Then another door slammed and Connor Murphy appeared in front of the truck, talking and gesturing wildly to himself. You could only make out bits and pieces of what the boy was saying before he went into the school like his sister. You heard him say something about his mom and his bitch sister and not even wanting to be there. Well at least you weren't alone in the feeling. Following the Murphy siblings you begrudgingly went into the building. The friendly secretary greated you and handed you your schedule which had your locker number on it. After searching for a few minutes you found it and just as you were starting to put things in your locker  you heard his voice, Jared Klienman. He was talking to Evan Hansen and you prayed to whatever higher being that could hear you that he would leave you alone. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t L/N.” You could practically hear the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face. You were about to turn around and tell him to go away but before you could someone comes between the two of you blocking Jared from your view. 

“Fuck off Klienman” says the last person you expected, Connor Murphy. 

“Woah calm down Murphy, I’m just trying to have a conversation with Y/N here” Jared says starting to back up and putting his arms up as a way of showing his surrender.

“Well they obviously don’t want to talk to you. Now get out of here before I punch that stupid smirk off your dumb face,” Connor says squaring off his shoulders in an attempt to look even more intimidating than usual. It worked quite well because Jared was practically running off but not before making a dig at Connor.

“Yeah whatever you fucking freak.”

You saw Connor’s shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists. You didn’t know what to do but figured it would be best to leave the boy alone, so you just fidgeted with your hands. He took a deep breath then turned to face you. 

“Uhm thanks for that. You really didn’t have to,” you say avoiding eye contact with him, which was quite easy considering how tall he was compared to you. 

“No problem, I know how much of a dick Klienman can be.” 

“Yeah he’s the worst,” you say scoffing lightly. Then the bell signaling you were supposed to be in homeroom rang.“See you around Connor. Thanks again,” you say before turning to shut your locker and rush to class. 

“Yeah see you around,” Connor says to no one because you were already down the hall.

The rest of the day wasn’t much better, nothing happened in particular but it just still wasn’t the best. After what felt like an eternity it was finally the last bell of the day, creative writing. You weren’t particularly interested in writing but you had a bell to fill so you figured why not. When you walked in you did a scan of the room and saw Connor, he had an empty seat next to him at the back of the room so you decided to sit it in. “Hey,” you say, startling the boy who was previously staring into space. 

“Oh hey.”

“Thanks again for this morning, I really appreciate it dude,” you say making eye contact with Connor so he would know you actually meant what you were saying.

“Oh yeah, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving you a small smile. You smiled back just as your teacher walked in which caused the conversation to end. 

“Good afternoon class! I hope all of your days have been tolerable,” says your teacher Mr. Davidson. He was a younger man in his early 30’s which meant everyone liked him including you.  “Instead of doing an ice breaker where you all lie about how interesting your summers were I want you to get to actually get to know someone in this class a little better,” he says from behind his podium at the front of the class. You were starting to panic a little, who were you going to partner up with? None of your kind of friends were in this class!  Then Connor cleared his throat grabbing your attention.

“Hey Y/N, wanna be partners?” The nervous energy was practically radiating off the boy. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sure Connor.” The two of you then got up and turned your desks to face each other like the other pairs were doing. “So Murphy what’s your deepest darkest secret?” you say, smirking.

“Woah L/N, not even going to ask me my favorite color or anything?” he says chuckling.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you say playfully rolling your eyes. “What’s your favorite color Connor?” 

“Dark green. What about you L/N? What's your favorite color?”

“Y/F/C,” you say. “It’s been my favorite since I was younger,” you say shrugging.

“I respect that. It’s a good color.” 

“Yeah whatever, now can I hear your deepest secret?”, you say almost like a child.

“Wow you’re still on this?”, he says with amusement evident in his tone. 

“Yeah I am!” you say in a mock seriousness. “Mr. Davidson says we are supposed to actually get to know each other and that’s what I’m trying to do Murphy!” 

“You’re absolutely right Y/N,” he says suddenly very serious.

“Okay fine I’ll tell you but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. 

“Not a soul,” you say staring at him intently and sitting at the edge of your seat. 

“Well, here goes nothing.” He made eye contact and it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “I’m pregnant.”

You maintained eye contact until you actually processed what he said, then the two of you started laughing which caused the rest of the class to turn and look at you but for once you didn’t even care because you were actually happy for the first time in what felt like forever. 

The rest of the class went by faster than you or Connor wanted it to, but the two of you walked out to the student parking lot together and paused when you reached your cars. “Uh see you tomorrow I guess,” you say but it comes out as more of a question. 

“Yeah see you tomorrow Y/N”, Connor says very confidently which surprised you both. You waved as a final goodbye and got into your cars. As you were driving home you thought about all the awful things you heard about Connor in the past and how untrue they were. Sure he was intimidating at first glance but he’s six feet tall for goodness sake who wouldn’t be intimidated by that. You could tell from the short  class period you spent getting to know him that he was simply misunderstood.  Suddenly you were glad you never listened to what all the popular kids said about Connor. 

As the school year went on you and Connor developed a sort of unspoken ritual, you would wait for Connor to get to school then you two would walk to homeroom together and then walk to your cars when the school day was over. The two of you became good friends and you found yourself actually looking forward to waking up in the morning so you could see him. The pair of you  had hung out outside of school a few times and you had actually met Connor’s mom, granted it was an accident but it still happened. 

You and Connor decided to hang out at his house because his family wasn’t home that afternoon, the two of you were lounging on the couch watching some weird movie when you heard the front door open. “Connor dear? Is that you in there?” Suddenly an middle aged woman with red hair appeared with reusable grocery bags in her hands. 

“Mom?!” Connor jumped up from the couch in a panic. “I thought you had yoga today?!”

“Class was canceled because Cindy wasn’t feeling well. Oh I stopped by the store and  got those  snacks you asked for!” she said coming into the living room box in hand. “Oh? Connor, who's your friend?” she said with a small smile appearing on her lips. 

“Hi Mrs. Murphy. I’m Y/N,” you said nervously. 

“Oh call me Cynthia dear,” she said, shooting you a smile. 

After that Cynthia invited you to stay for dinner but you already had plans with your parents that night. She invited you a couple times after that as well. You never actually went cause Connor didn’t want you to but still it was nice to know she liked you enough to invite you to dinner. 

As fall came to a close the two of you  became attached at the hip, constantly talking to one another whether it was in person or through the phone. Once the holiday season rolled around you guys got each other gifts. You got Connor a signed book from his favorite author and he got you a vinyl you had been wanting for a while.

 Once the holiday break was over the end of the first semester came quickly and you couldn’t wait to finally be done with your half year courses and start the new ones. Unfortunately you had to take finals before you could be done. Although you only had two finals you were still extremely stressed out. Sure they were easy classes but the teachers were notorious for giving impossible finals. You spent the few days before the finals studying whenever there was a free moment. Connor knew you were stressed so he helped you the best he could. He offered to have study sessions even though none of his classes had finals, he went over quizlets on video calls, and he even brought you a drink with way too much caffeine on the mornings he knew you didn’t sleep. 

Once the day arrived he texted you good luck. You went into the first test and totally nailed it. Before the next testing time there was a break and when you checked your phone you saw Connor had texted you telling you how proud he was of you for studying so hard and reassuring you that you had these exams in the bag. You sent him a quick “thank you :))” and went into the testing room for the second time. This exam was a little harder than the last but you still thought you did decent. There were a couple times where Connor and his stupid mneumonic devices actually came in handy. Letting out a giant breath of relief as you stepped out of the testing room you couldn’t wait to tell Connor about how much he helped. When you reached your locker and got your phone out of it you saw Connor had asked if you wanted to hang out when you were done. Obviously you said yes and told him to pick you up at your house in 15. You drove home and changed out of your testing outfit which was just sweatpants and a hoodie and put on something a little more presentable. Sure you were just going to hang out with your best friend but he also is the boy you’ve been pining over for months. You’ve always found Connor attractive and when he put dickhead Klienman in his place that made him all the more hot. But then you really got to know him and you fell. Hard.  He was sweet, caring, smart, and funny. Sure he had his moments but so did everyone on the planet. He had actually opened up to you about his struggles with his mental health and you did everything you could to support him. You encouraged him to ask his parents for therapy, and always made sure he took his meds in the morning. You were there for him and he was always there for you.  

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the horn of Connor’s truck outside your house. You rushed outside and got into the passenger seat, “So where to Murphy?”

“I was thinking we could get some food and just chill in a parking lot somewhere. Sound cool?”

“Definitely. I’ve missed hanging out with you. Stupid finals,” you say with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Yeah I’ve missed hanging out with you too dork,” he says reaching over the center console and ruffling your hair. 

“Connor Murphy! I just brushed my hair and here you go messing it up!” you say while trying to fix your now disbelieved hair. 

“Whatever L/N. It still looks fine to me.”  Although it was barely a compliment, heat still rushed to your cheeks. He pulled out of your driveway and the two of you were off. On the way to get food you guys caught up talking about everything you missed in the world of Connor because you were too focused on finals. He told you he finished a TV show you recommend and loved it.  You made it to the drive through and Connor ordered, already knowing what you wanted from your many midnight outings. Once you got your food you made your way to the plaza parking lot where the restaurant was located. For the first couple minutes the two of you sat in a comfortable silence listening to the playlist Connor had made for this type of occasion. After a few minutes Connor suddenly spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Connor dearest you know you can tell me anything,” you say with a french fry in your mouth, not even bothering to look at him. 

“I like you.” You choked on the fry you had in your mouth. 

“Pardon?” you say through a cough. 

“I said I like you,” he says, a little less sure of himself. When you looked over at Connor you saw he was staring straight ahead. 

“Hey Connor.” 

“Mhm,” he says, not daring to move. 

“Look at me.” He just barely turned his head towards you. “I like you too idiot.”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: Thoughts on Jane Birkin? - Talented elegant actor-musician-model? Overrated at everything but she was pretty? Or, never thought about it, but she did design a nice bag for Hermes?

My thoughts about Jane Birkin is that she is and will always remain an all round feminine icon. Plain and simple.

That’s not just my contrarian view because she was an icon that overlapped into my grandparents’ and parents’ generation of the late 60s and 70s but it’s also the view of many French today too. I knew of her because her songs alongside Françoise Hardy and other French chanteuse were always playing on my parents stereo system growing up overseas. Indeed so well-documented is the love affair between Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg, that to picture it retrospectively is to watch a flickering series of film stills in one’s mind. Enter the young British actress in 1970s Paris, basket swinging nonchalantly from one arm, baby daughter clasped carefully in the other, dancing down Boulevard Saint-Germain with the thoughtful French musician’s adoring figure at her side. They loved, smoked and fought fervently, their ten-year-long affair an archetype of that between musician and muse in bohemian Paris, and 40 years after its dissolution, the French still can’t get enough.

As you allude to in your question, she has famously said of herself and Serg Gainsbourg that, “He was a great man. I was just pretty.” Which has led a small minority - especially those in her native England - to be dismissive of her as a long forgotten pretty face of the 70s and who was over-rated because she was nothing without riding on the coat tails of the crooning bad boy, Gainsbourg. On the face of it it was a very disingenuous remark to make because Gainsbourg was indeed a great man (as a musician and French cultural male icon) but she was so much more than a pretty face. I strongly suggest that she was just being her usual self-deprecating Anglo-self and one who remains to be a tad embarrassed at 73 years old to be continued to be lauded as a genuine timeless French style and chanteuse icon.

No one can doubt that Jane Birkin has always had some talent as an artist. Birkin has enjoyed a long career in the arts as a singer, songwriter, actress, and director. Her longevity is one proof of her staying power. Arguably though, it is her reputation as a style icon, and more specifically being the namesake of the iconic Hermès Birkin bag for which she is best known today. She might well have been Gainsbourg’s baby doll (his words) but she was very much her own popular muse and actress.

This may surprise many but Jane Birkin has appeared in over 70 films over several decades. As an actress it is often forgotten how good she is because most of her films were made in France and she rarely did films outside of France.

She was already known even before she hooked up with Gainsbourg. She was born in 1946 to an actress mother, Judy Campbell, and her Royal Navy lieutenant-commander and spy, David Birkin. Her mother was an acclaimed actress of her generation and muse to the older Noel Coward. She had a typical upbringing that one might call comfortably posh upper middle class. She was already married at 17 to film composer, John Barry (yes, the same John Barry who composed all the music for the James Bond films and other Hollywood films (Out of Africa, Dances with Wolves, Cotton Club etc) in 1965 but divorced in 1968 with custody of their daughter. Birkin quickly became part of the swinging London scene in the 1960s and appeared briefly in a handful of films.

Birkin was already well known but it was her nude turn in Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film Blow-Up that really put her on the map. Even today it’s seen as one of the iconic films of the swinging sixties.

She famously arrived in Paris unable to speak French with her newborn daughter in her arms. The story goes that she was offered the lead role in the 1968 French film Slogan alongside Gainsbourg after sobbing through her screen test. Starring alongside Serge Gainsbourg, Birkin performed with him on the movie’s theme song. It was on that film set that they would begin their truly passionate relationship as well as artistic collaborations throughout the 1970s.

Indeed a year later in 1969 they both released the song that has forever defined them both to non-French people around the world, the duet  “Je t’aime…moi non plus” which was met with scandal and disapproval by the Vatican and banned in many countries.

It may have solidified Birkin’s status as the British-born emblem of French chic but in all honesty it also drowned out her notable acting talents. Although Birkin took a brief hiatus from acting to return as Bardot's lover in the 1973 film Don Juan or If Don Juan Were A Woman (for which she got rave reviews because she held her own against Bardot),

it was only until 1975 in Gainsbourg’s own first film Je t’aime…moi non plus that her acting was properly honoured. Again, because of the damn song, people forget that she was nominated for Best Actress César Award (The French version of the Oscars or the Brit’s version of the BAFTAs). To be nominated for a César as best actress in a culture of truly talented actresses is saying something.

This wasn’t a flash in the pan. She was nominated again in 1984 for Best Actress César Award for her role as Alma in La Pirate  - directed by her then partner, Jacques Doillon with whom she did another critically acclaimed film La Fille Prodigue (1981). Her work led her to work on stage with critically acclaimed directors such as Patrice Chéreau. She worked with director Herbert Vesely on Egon Schiele Exzess und Bestrafung in 1980, appearing as the mistress of Austrian artist Egon Schiele, played by Mathieu Carrière. Jacques Rivette collaborated with her in Love on the Ground (1983). The jury of the 1985 Venice Film Festival recognised Birkin's performance in Dust as amongst the best of the year, but decided not to award a best actress prize because it was decided by the jury that all of the actresses they judged to have made the best performances were in films that already won major awards - Dust won the Silver Lion prize so she lost out.

In 1991 she was again nominated for a César Award but this time as best supporting actress in the classic La Belle Noiseuse directed by Jacques Rivette and starring Michel Piccoli and Emmanuelle Béart.

She did of course English films but much more sporadically. She put in a famous turn in both the delightful Hercule Poirot movies starring Peter Ustinov, Death on the Nile and Evil Under the Sun. She also appeared in Merchant Ivory's A Soldier's Daughter Never Cries (1998) (which also used her song "Di Doo Dah”). In 2016 she had the lead role in La femme et le TGV, a short film directed by Swiss filmmaker Timo von Gunten. The film was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film. I believe after it was widely reported that she had no plans to return to acting.

I think it’s the parochialism of the Anglo cultural world that has led to this misconception that she wasn’t an actress of note when in fact she has always been up there with the best of French actresses of her generation.

As a singing icon she has been frozen in time. Her fame for one song have clouded a proper critical appraisal of her singing talents. And I think here I have to be honest and say that her critics - from a purely singing technical point of view - might have a point her being over hyped. Not that Jane Birkin ever said she was a great singer as she described herself self-deprecatingly as singing through more keys than a locksmith.

As a singer, Birkin is of course is known for that song that cheekily and perhaps even enviously reinforces the tropes the non-French world have about the French and amour. In 1969, she and Gainsbourg released the duet "Je t'aime... moi non plus" ("I love you ... me neither"). Gainsbourg originally wrote the song for Brigitte Bardot. But Bardot famously declined to sing the track because she found it "too erotic" and she was married at the time.

Although Birkin started out in films, she preferred to focus more on singing than acting. This was primarily because of Serg Gainsbourg who saw Birkin as his muse and wrote songs for her. She released an album in 1975 entitled Lolita Go Home and in 1978 called Ex Fan des Sixties, with the help of Gainsbourg's songwriting. Her music was successful in France, but not in her home country of England. She has made more than a dozen albums, nearly all in French and perhaps one or two in her native English. 

One cannot escape the nagging feeling when I listen to some of her albums - really the later ones - that if she had attempted a career as an English recording artist, she would have stayed a minor singer. If fished out of her small pond and dropped into the music ocean, then Birkin would surely in the words of one music critic, “be engulfed by the plankton of mediocrity”.

And so the troubling truth that must be faced is that because she has been granted access to the ranks of the iconic, it is more because of our interest in the intriguing liaison she had with the maverick Gainsbourg more than anything else.

There is no doubt that her marshmallow accent, reedy voice and modern look made Jane Birkin a singing idol. She has a sense of discretion that is inversely proportional to her dazzling repertoire, which is studded with such astounding masterpieces as ‘Je t’aime… moi non plus’, ‘Swimming Pool’, ‘The Pirate’ and ‘Les dessous chics’. But her later recordings such as Le Symphonique, in which she is accompanied by a 90-piece orchestra - are mostly re-worked recordings of her songs with Gainsbourg who had died in 1991. Or take her 1996 album Arabesque which featured re-workings of Gainsbourg’s music, along with instrumentals backed by five Arabic musicians. Nearly all her later albums are quite mediocre.

This isn’t her fault so much as it is the musical artistry of Gainsbourg. He was the puppeteer behind the promulgation of this 'veule aesthetic', this aesthetic of weak plaintive croaking. But he was perhaps the first French singer who knew that manipulating the media would lead to manipulating record sales. Gainsbourg once had a job punching holes into métro tickets on Paris' underground before this ‘poinçonneur de lilas’ went on to almost single-handedly drag France's chanson tradition into the postmodern age. He sat in the opposite corner to the great chanson Musketeers: Leo Ferré, Georges Brassens and Jacques Brel. Gainsbourg is known in France for having cast himself in twin roles: Gainsbourg the musician and Gainsbarre the provocateur.

But there is also a definite divide in his musical production with a pre-1971 period that has a foot in chanson with driving melodies and Boris Vian narratives and the other foot in the fledgling pop tradition, and a post-1971 period that was driven more and more by dodgy electronic drumbeats, tiresome perpetual punning, and repetitive allusions to la femme enfant and Lolita-esque love (his last partner, Bambou, was 30 years his junior).

It remains difficult, therefore, to see how anyone with an ear for melody could think that much of Gainbourg's non-chanson output is melodiously pleasing. Much of his production seems so excruciatingly the work of an ageing pervert with personal hygiene issues.

My French friends, including one of my apartment neighbours in particular - of an older generation with whom I’ve grown close to - will put me through the wringer for saying anything bad about Gainsbourg and Birkin as singers. I just feel no one should be above a critical appraisal. Worse, it becomes very difficult to say anything critical for fear of being told that you just have not understood Gainsbourg's genius (surely Jarvis Cocker and Portishead can't be wrong!) But in reality there is very little to understand. He gave up trying to sing early on - the songs I really do like and find interesting - and quickly became the one-trick pony until his unfortunate death in May 1991 at 62 years old: a suggestive lyric about a questionable relationship here, a pun on every other word as an excuse for poetics there, slurred together with the voice of a sneering old man. The man stood out, broke away from troubadour-like folklore, but ultimately a tad mediocre.

The truth is Birkin without Gainsbourg was never much of a truly great singer. Combined with their public spats, Birkin reportedly grew tired of Gainsbourg's drinking and melancholy habits, so much so it became impossible to live with. They separated in 1980 despite never being married, despite reports of the contrary. Birkin later said that their friendship and his songwriting improved after they split. “You could talk back to him for once,” she said. “You were not just his creation any more.” As much as she was his muse, she was Pygmalion to his Prof. Henry Higgins. But the sad and prosaic truth is that without his unique style of songs to carry her limited singing range she was dreadfully exposed outside of Gainsbourg’s repertoire.

This was brought home to me when I listened to her cover version of Cohen’s iconic song, ‘Hallelujah’. Cohen's lyrics tell of David composing a song in praise of God, he describes the euphony that 'hallelujah' forms in his prayer, "the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift." Birkin on the other hand warbled her way through. As she said once of her singing, she went through more keys than a locksmith.

Does Jane Birkin fare better as a style icon? Yes, she does. Absolutely.

To understand the Birkin bag one has to understand how Jane Birkin a Parisienne fashion style icon without her necessarily wanting to be one.

The quintessential trope of Parisienne woman is a conflation we likely owe to the framing of the 1950s and ’60s mavens of French popular culture like Françoise Hardy, Catherine Deneuve, and Brigitte Bardot as French icons, but who remain eminently tied to Parisian mythology - their reverence to a billion-dollar fashion archetype (thank you LVMH) is as reductive to the real women of Paris as it is to the women aspiring to be them. Of course this kind of Parisienne chic exists - a walk down the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré in the 8th arrondissement of Paris should satisfy the many star struck ‘American Emily’s’ coming to Paris (what a God awful Netflix drama it is). 

But like London or New York or even Rome and Milan, there is no such thing as one Parisian style. There’s a plurality of Parisian styles and personalities - that’s obvious from walking the different arrondissements of Paris.

Jane Birkin in her day brought her own style to fit her British personality that was a far cry from the elegantly and expensively dressed mavens. From her laissez-faire fringe, to her layered necklaces, vintage denim, peasant blouses and white t-shirts, she wowed Parisienne women.

Today if you ever wander around Paris looking at the younger girls - or look at French young girls sporting their Paris street chic style on instagram or other social media - they call it Paris street chic. It’s not fashion, it’s a street style.

It’s really bunch of every day clothing items and accessories stylishly thrown together. So it’s not surprising to learn that the original source of French street chic started with Jane Birkin. It was Birkin who ‘pioneered’ the kind of off-duty dressing you now see all over the streets of Paris. I say pioneered but the truth is she dressed for herself without even wanting or trying to become a French style icon.

Still as fashionistas will tell you, Birkin was always several decades ahead of the style curve (easy for them to say). It was stylish but above all it was timeless. It amuses me no end that when one sees doe eyed American girls who are so enamoured by French girl fashion but don’t realise they owe their thanks to an English girl.

I’m sure it amuses Birkin too because she always thought her Haute-hippie style and free spirit was her way to insulate her personal insecurities about how well dressed and stylish haute bourgeois Parisian women were in their Chanel and YSL clothing. Her style is her own, as she said to Vogue, “I buy things often, but I sleep in them for two weeks, and then they really look quite rough.”

If there is common ground between the elegantly dressed mavens of high end brand fashion houses and the ultra casual minimalist street wear it is around the very simple Parisian quality of simplicity. Simplicity - not necessarily in colour or print but in the total look. Simple but important enough for a younger generation of Parisienne women should be free to express themselves free  from the grips of a generations-old myth.

In a nutshell if Birkin’s style and influence endures it’s because her style is about simplicity.

Nevertheless her place as a style icon rests upon a simple straw basket (or wicker basket). However, in 1981 a chance encounter on a plane would result in the straw basket’s replacement by the world’s most desired leather bag - the Hermès Birkin bag.

In the 70s she was mainly known for her use of a straw/wicker basket which she used instead of a regular handbag. She was famous for her straw basket as she went everywhere with it, even dancing at the most exclusive of clubs or eating at the finest dining places. She carried all kinds of bits and bobs, including baby milk bottles, diapers, and baby change wear as well as collecting trinkets on her journeys around Paris. It was seen as a stylish English eccentricity by the Parisians.

There is famous story about Jane Birkin and her straw basket that has entered into legend. The straw basket bag’s anonymous shape and generous size lent it to concealment, so when, during a lavish Christmas evening spent at the famous Parisian Bistro Maxim’s with Gainsbourg, the young English actress slipped a few pieces of the institution’s fine monogrammed crockery into it, nobody batted an eyelid. It was only later, when the basket slipped from her wrist while signing an autograph and sent her stash of china flying across the floor, that she was found out. In a perfect act of Parisian discretion a kindly waiter collected it up for her and replaced it in the basket. “A gift from Maxim’s,” he is reported to have whispered to her. “If you require more, you only have to ask.”

In 1981, Birkin was on a short flight from Paris to London. Carrying her famous straw basket, she placed it in the overhead compartment of her seat. However, the lid of the basket opened, and the contents spilled all over the floor and on the seats around her. Sitting next to her and assisting her in retrieving the contents of her basket was the late executive of Hermès, Jean-Louis Dumas. Birkin complained to Dumas that she was unable to find a suitable leather weekend bag that she liked. According to folklore, the remainder of the flight consisted of the pair designing a bag together and sketching ideas on an air sickness bag.

Fast forward three years and a prototype handbag was developed and presented to Jane Birkin – the Hermès Birkin bag. The bag, crafted from supple leather and handmade in France by a single, highly trained artisan, and takes up to 24 hours to complete. Designed specifically to provide ample room for jet-setting women, the bag quickly became a fashion icon and status symbol for women worldwide. The Birkin bag comes in a range of sizes, leathers, exotic skins, and hardware, with new colours introduced each season and limited edition versions of the bag crafted occasionally.

Since the creation of the very first Birkin bag, Jane Birkin had always carried one. However, true to her unique style and fashion, she continually customised her bags with beads, trinkets, protest stickers, and other titbits to create a unique look. Birkin even defaced her namesake’s bag on Japanese TV in 2008. The fashion icon repeatedly stamped on a tan-coloured Birkin bag to make it look “unique.” 

Not surprisingly, the customisation of the Birkin bag caught on quickly and “defacing” Birkin bags is now a modern and trendy pastime practiced by D list celebrities including Kim Kardashian, Tamara Ecclestone, and many of today’s so-called fashion icons and social media style influencers.

Commendably Birkin auctions off her complimentary Birkin bags from Hermès for charitable causes. She often works with Amnesty International on humanitarian issues and donates her yearly royalties for the Birkin bag (approximately $50,000 per year) to a charity of her choice. Jane Birkin has said she now rarely uses the famous handbag that bears her name. In an interview with the BBC she told the BBC that if, like her, she used to fill the bag with "junk... and half the furniture from your house, it's a very, very heavy bag. Now I fill my pockets like a man, because then you don't actually have to carry anything."

In typical Jane Birkin style, she doesn't own one.

Jane Birkin will always be France’s favourite “petite Anglaise” as she was often known. And therein lies the clue why she remains beloved French icon despite her being English for two main reasons that come to mind.

Firstly, I suspect it’s because of her remarkable quality to be down to earth and cheerfully optimistic in public. Above all she displays a wonderful talent for mocking herself and not taking herself seriously. When for instance she was invited to take a role in a theatre production of a play by the 17th-century French writer Marivaux, she thought she was in a play by Marie Vau! The French have always been beguiled by her because of the stardust of the Sixties.

Despite Birkin being diagnosed with leukaemia in 2002, she said she conducted her life and love affairs with “an absolutely unfounded optimism”. That is not in doubt. With the recent publication of her diaries (Munkey Diaries 1957-1982 - a fantastic read) a more fuller picture has emerged that have further endeared her to the French.

Birkin was always riddled with insecurities, “I think I’m nothing, I’m persecuted by women who I love more than myself... Oh for the face of Nastassja Kinski, of Fanny Ardant, oh, the talent, the courage, the qualities. I have nothing interesting to say...” Above all she was convinced she was “suffering from mediocrity and no personality”, and wanted above all was to be loved. England never gave her that love, France did so happily. Even today France openly loves her.

Secondly, the French, especially the Parisians, love her because she embraces the French way of life with gusto and gaeity. Birkin speaks French fine but she stumbles in her heavily accented French. But she doesn’t mind and neither do the French. She was schooled in England into a culture where it’s okay to stumble, to try and fail, to be less than perfect. However, the old, rote, didactic, shame-based French schooling system dies hard. French people are often afraid to speak English unless they can feel assured it is impeccable at the same time - alomost in contradiction - they feel put out by foreigners who simply speak English to them without even having the courtesy to speak a little French, they think it rude and respond accordingly. But Birkin is so transparent and open to falling flat on her face that I think the Parisians find it strangely endearing.

Birkin is that living truism that you don’t have to be French to be a Parisian icon of style and especially when beauty pertains to age.

Outside of native born French women, Brigitte Bardot, Françoise Hardy, Catherine Deneueve, Jeanne Moreau, Fanny Ardant, Juliette Binoche, Inés de la Fressange and one or two others (Isabelle Huppert is an outlier of arthouse chic style), there have been other non-French women besides Jane Birkin who have personified Parisian chic and style: Sylvia Vartan, Charlotte Rampling, Nastassja Kinski, Kristin Scott Thomas, and Carla Bruni, to name but a few. Each has come to embody ‘Parisian style’ without ever being raised here but now very much live and breathe the Parisienne spirit.

Just as importantly Paris, like French culture as a whole, values beauty especially as it ages. There are many seasons to women as there are to make fine wine. This is one reason why Jane Birkin endures even at the age of 73 years old. Style icons like Jane Birkin and others like Inés de la Fressange (who was the face of Chanel for so long and is now going strong at 63 years old) have given a well deserved middle finger to the notion that there is a codified set of rules for fashion and beauty for women over 50 years old.

Indeed this is one of the secrets of living in Paris, it knows how to renew and refresh itself without losing its unique identity e.g. the model and actress Jeanne Damas, is arguably this current generation’s Jane Birkin and all power to her.

The stylish contributions of all these iconic women, and especially Jane Birkin, is a testament of why the allure of Paris as a cultural centre will continue to endure seamlessly because it values the aesthetic truth that true style is beauty that timelessly matures.  

Birkin said once she was in no doubt she would always be best known for her erotic record Je t'aime, moi non plus. Of course she under sells herself as she has always done because she is so much more.

Compare her to modern style icons. Kim Kardashian would be the nearest but her fame as a style icon rests on one cynically contrived (and boring) sex tape, a narcissistic family TV reality show, and being married to a grossly deluded rap singer. I don’t think the modern day airheads are true style icons but fashion victims because as Yves Saint Laurent once memorably put it, “Fashions fade, style endures”.

Jane Birkin will endure. Her contribution to French cultural life has been immense. The gap-tooth smile that looks irrepressibly cool, the messy fringe, the long string bean legs, the ability to elegantly wear denim for any and every situation, the reason she made a lowly wicker basket her bag of choice all year long. We may never know why, but honestly it’s not worth questioning at this point because it was so seriously chic - is one even allowed to say the word chic again? When it comes to Birkin, it’s a word that bears repeating.

Birkin might cheerfully be accepting of the fact that for an older generation much of her fame still rests on one scandalous song but for the contemporary generation it will be the Hermès Birkin bag.

"It's a rather extraordinary record," Birkin said once. "Perhaps more interesting than the bag." I daresay Serg Gainsbourg would agree about the song and the bag.

Ah yes that bag. The Birkin bag. To me it’s not a fashion item but a life saver.

From mothers juggling diapers and milk bottles whilst chasing after their toddlers in stores to busy career women hurriedly scooping up and stuffing in reams of files, phone and lap top while rushing off their feet to their next meeting all can thank ‘la petite Anglaise’ for her Birkin bag.

I know I do. I use mine for a work lap top, mobile phone, work files and folders, pens, chewing gum, girls stuff (make up kit and tampons), a spare pair of knickers, sun glasses, gloves, an apple, a bottle of water, playing cards, a cigar case (and cutter and lighter), and a few books to read when I fly on a business trip.

Thanks for your question.

[quijotine]

in which adrien is a science teacher and has to pay his karma by babysitting a teenager that has his exact same humor when he was 15.

Chapter 2 of Chat Noir Is My Science Teacher is up, friends :D

Ch. 2. Mr. Deep

In which Matt is baby and Adrien begins to pay his karma for being a lil shit when he was younger, with interest.

When Matthieu braced himself for the day, the last thing he expected to happen was learning that Mr. Dupain-Cheng, his science teacher, was none other than his idol, Chat Noir.

Yes, Mr. Dupain-Cheng, the dorky teacher who laughed at his own bad science puns and had a themed t-shirt for every day of the week. Mr. Dupain-Cheng, the man who thought grading with “You Tried” stars and cat stickers was funny. Mr. Dupain-Cheng, who was so gullible he didn’t notice when students wanted to distract him from giving a lesson by asking him about his wife because they knew he could rant about her for hours. Mr. Dupain-Cheng, the only teacher that replied with an ‘ok :)’, a meme, and the signature, ‘Sent from my cat-phone,’ when replying to a well-thought email. That Mr. Dupain-Cheng.

How could this be possible? He was so... so uncool .

Read below the cut or on AO3 by clicking the link above.

When Matthieu braced himself for the day, the last thing he expected to happen was learning that Mr. Dupain-Cheng, his science teacher, was none other than his idol, Chat Noir.

Yes, Mr. Dupain-Cheng, the dorky teacher who laughed at his own bad science puns and had a themed t-shirt for every day of the week. Mr. Dupain-Cheng, the man who thought grading with “You Tried” stars and cat stickers was funny. Mr. Dupain-Cheng, who was so gullible he didn’t notice when students wanted to distract him from giving a lesson by asking him about his wife because they knew he could rant about her for hours. Mr. Dupain-Cheng, the only teacher that replied with an ‘ok :)’, a meme, and the signature, ‘Sent from my cat-phone,’ when replying to a well-thought email. That Mr. Dupain-Cheng.

How could this be possible? He was so... so uncool .

When Matt thought about who Chat Noir might be under his mask he always pictured someone bold and dashing, maybe one of those cool guys that worked in those crazy science startups. Someone brave, fearless... not a father of two who, Matt was pretty sure, screeched one time a flying cockroach somehow crawled from one of the sinks in the lab. He pictured someone like Barbara Keynes or Peter Parker.

They were witty and mysterious. Mr. Dupain-Cheng was too nice to be a superhero.

“Matt!” Timo tackled him into a hug as Matthieu and Mr. Dupain-Cheng joined the rest of the class. Ladybug had finished handing out autographs to his classmates and had already left. “Are you okay? Did you see the Akuma? It was so sick!”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Matthieu muttered, as Mr. Dupain-Cheng pointedly put as much distance between himself and Matt. He called the class’ attention to continue their museum visit.

“You’re in danger, kid.” His teacher’s words still resounded in Matthieu’s head. “For your own safety, lay low until I decide what to do with this, okay?”

He didn’t give Matt a chance to ask any questions, to say anything. He basically wanted him to ignore this, to act as if he had just found him practicing some obscure hobby outside school.

As they walked, Matt trained his eyes on the back of his teacher’s head, the blond, messy mop of hair towering over the group of teens.

“Hey, Timo?”

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Deep is, like, a nerd, right?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Timo said, his attention more invested in his portable video game console than in the conversation. “He knows, like, all the animes.”

“That’s not cool,” said Matt.

“Of course it is,” Timo said, finally peeling his eyes off the screen. “We like that stuff.”

Timo had a point, Matthieu had to admit.

“And remember the time he helped me solder that motherboard we used for the robot competition? That was pretty cool.”

“I... suppose.”

Timo shrugged, blissfully unaware of Matt’s current crisis. “I keep telling you, man,” he said, returning to his videogame. “Mr. Deep is the coolest teacher at school.”

After the field trip, Matt went home stuck in a contemplative trance, wanting to decide what the revelation was that truly bothered him: the fact that Chat Noir’s civilian persona was absolutely nothing like what he had pictured, or that Timo was right and the reason why he disliked Mr. Dupain-Cheng was actually because he looked up to him, and that he embodied the complete opposite of everything Matt was taught to be.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, to be honest. As any self-respecting fan, Matthieu knew Chat Noir’s career by heart. He had seen those old clips of him as a teenager, cracking witty jokes and one-liners in the middle of battle. It kind of made sense that he’d grow up to be the kind of man that was unapologetically chaotic. Besides, those memes and punny cat stickers he liked to grade with? Suddenly it seemed all so obvious. It was almost as if Mr. Dupain-Cheng was flaunting the truth in front of everyone, knowing no one would peg him as the kind of man who was a superhero. It was all in the same way no one seemed to understand how on earth such a whacky dude would end up with one of the most successful designers in Paris.

Matt suddenly shot up from the comfort of his bed as he contemplated his thoughts.

Ladybug. Weren’t Ladybug and Chat Noir a couple?

Oh my god, is Mr. Dupain-Cheng cheating on his wife with Ladybug? Or backwards? Wait... Isn’t that famous designer his wife? What’s her name, MDC? No, that’s the brand. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Wait.

Does his wife even know? Oh, no... Poor woman! Wait... what if...

Matt gasped. “She’s Ladybug. She has to be.”

He paced around his room, his thoughts going a thousand miles an hour. “I can never let Hawkmoth akumatize me ever again,” he screeched, grabbing handfuls of his hair. “Oh my god!” he shrieked. “Okay, Matt, breathe. Breathe. Just... Think. Okay. This can be good, right? This can be good.”

He kept pacing around.

“Okay, Matt. Okay. You just figured out that Mr. Deep is Chat Noir and his wife is Ladybug... Cool, it’s all cool,” he said to himself in a pitch heightened by the sheer panic that coursed through him. “It’s okay, it’s—.”

He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as inspiration struck. He gasped excitedly and immediately got on his knees to reach under his bed.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, pulling out a small corkboard he kept hidden under the bed. The board was an indulgent little project if he did say so himself. It wasn’t related to any of his school activities, which is why he had to keep it hidden. Goodness knows what his parents would do if they found out he had been wasting time investigating who Hawkmoth might be.

This wasn’t bad, this was great!

I can help him! Matt thought excitedly. I can help him and Ladybug track Hawkmoth down!

He took a few shots of it with his phone to then ferociously kick it out of view, back under the bed again, when his mother entered his room.

“What are you doing on the floor, Matthieu?” Mrs. Magan, a middle-aged woman with stern eyes, said to him.

“I... lost a coin.”

Mrs. Magan frowned, not making much of the excuse. “Dinner is ready.”

Matthieu let out a silent sigh of relief as his mother turned around, then quickly followed after her, knowing better than to have her remind him a second time.

I can help him, he thought again excitedly. I can be his sidekick!

—-

Matthieu was not one to be late for school, but the day after discovering Mr. Deep’s identity he decided to be extra early, just to make sure he’d be able to talk to him in private. There was always the risk that he’d be late of course, but now that Matthieu knew the reason, he could hardly hold it against him.

Matt was lucky enough to spot him in the Chemistry lab when he arrived. He peeked through the small window on the door. it seemed he was grading papers.

He grinned and immediately went in, hardly being able to contain his excitement.

“Good morning, Mr. Dupain-Cheng!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, causing Adrien to jolt and knock some of the paper sheets to the ground. Matt rushed to pick them up before Adrien had the chance to do so. “So listen, I have thoughts ,” he said as he put the papers back on the desk and fumbled with his backpack to produce his phone. “I was up all night updating my Hawkmoth board, and I was thinking—I was thinking that maybe, you know this philanthropist, Lila Rossi—”

Adrien could only stare dumbfounded at how fast Matt rambled before he even caught the drift of what he was saying. Once he registered it though, he jolted once again.

“Shh!” Adrien hushed at the teen, frantically looking around himself to see if anyone was in the vicinity—even though the door was closed.

“Matthieu, what are you talking about?” he hissed.

“I wanna help you track Hawkmoth!” Matthieu piped with a bright smile, reaching into his backpack again to produce his phone. “Last night, I was thinking, ‘Hey, maybe this happened for a reason.’ I’m pretty good at this whole deduction thing, you know? I’m at the top of the class in almost all subjects and I have like, all the badges possible on the Ladyblog. Also, look, I have this board that I made about all the possible suspects because if you look at the akumatizations there’s a real pattern, and I’m thinking that whoever Hawkmoth might be, has some stuff to work through, because oh my god. Oh, like, this person he—”

“Matthieu, keep your voice down!” Adrien interrupted him. “No! I can’t let you do that. What happened yesterday was an accident, kid. Okay? It’s best if you just... If you just try to pretend like you don’t know anything while Ladybug and I decide what to do. This isn’t a game, Matt. You are in danger. If Hawkmoth ever lays hands on you, there’s no telling what might happen. Stay. Away. From. This.”

Undeterred by the ominous delivery of Mr. Dupain-Cheng’s warning, Matthieu beamed at him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Deep! I’m good at keeping secrets! I—”

“No. It is out of the question, Matthieu. This is dangerous and I—wait, what did you just call me?” Adrien said, suddenly catching the nickname.

Matthieu grew red in the face and smiled sheepishly at his teacher. “Mr. Deep... You know, ‘cause you’re always, like, going off these crazy deep tangents about the physics of akumas and stuff and—Oh my god, that makes so much sense now! Do you study them in your free time? Oh, wow! Do you and Miss Ladybug have a secret layer? Like Majestia and Knight Owl? Wait, actually, don’t answer that. Sensitive information, am I right? Oh! Also, I think Mr. Deep really fits you because you always give us this weirdly specific and deep life advice? And I don’t know how you do it but it’s always on point? Also, your name starts with a D...”

Adrien looked at the boy, shocked, and frankly a little scared that a kid could talk so much, so fast. There’s only one other person he had ever known whose mouth ran like a broken faucet if she was given the chance.

Wait , Adrien thought. Did... did he just pun with my name?

A part of him was flattered, another was surprised, a third one was slightly insulted.

The kid punned with my name. I’m his teacher !

“Matt!” he exclaimed, interrupting Matthieu’s spoken stream of consciousness. “No. This is final. Stay away from this. I don’t want to have to repeat myself. It is final.”

Again, unfazed by Adrien’s effort to act seriously, Matthieu beamed at him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Deep. I’ll prove you can trust me! I would not trust me, too, if I were you. But I’ll prove it! You’ll see.”

The bell rang, and with it came a thankful end to the conversation. At least on Adrien’s side.

“And don’t call me Mr. Deep.”

“Okay, Mr. Deep!” Matthieu said, beaming at him as he made his way out of the classroom. “Oops! I mean, Mr. DC.”

Adrien sighed, glaring at the boy and feeling some sort of karmic entity laughing at him. He knew exactly what Matt’s energetic yet jesterly energy reminded him of: a sixteen-year-old version of himself whose favorite pastime was seeing how much foolery he could get away with before Ladybug decided to murder him in cold blood.

“It’s your karma,” Plagg muttered quietly before his students began pouring into the classroom. “Kid’s your spitting image. Though I gotta say, he blabbers as much as Spots.”

“Oh, shush it!”

“You know you have to tell her soon, right?” Plagg muttered from inside Adrien’s overshirt. “The more you delay, the deeper your grave.”

“I said shush.”

The little god snickered. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Plagg was right, though. Adrien had to tell Marinette about this. It was already bad that he didn’t tell her the moment it happened. She hated it when he did that. But in his defense, he knew she had a tough day at the label and he didn’t want to freak her out. He hoped that excuse would be enough. Plagg had laughed at him when he asked for his opinion about it.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

There was no way but through, he knew this. That didn’t mean his legs could tell the difference between an honest conversation with his life partner and the visceral fear for his survival that was elicited at the image of said conversation. He felt them buckle as he casually leaned against the kitchen island, trying his best to act natural.

The kids had been put to bed and there was thankfully no Akuma in sight. At least not yet.

Marinette sighed with relief as she swiftly undid her hair and reached into the fridge for a bottle of wine. If Adrien hadn’t been so terrified by what he was about to do, he’d allow himself to swoon at her.

Witnessing Marinette shed the tiredness of the day as she swapped into comfortable clothes—usually loose shirts and yoga pants— and poured her drink of choice was one of his favorite things to watch. It didn’t matter that they had been living together for a little over seven years now, he’d never get tired of watching her exist.

“You want some?” Marinette said as she stood on her tiptoes to reach the shelf where they kept the wine glassware.

“Yeah, sure,” Adrien said, then continued speaking after thanking his wife for the wine. “You’ll never guess what happened today.”

“What?” she said, clinking her glass against his before taking the first sip.

“A kid punned with my name.”

Marinette chuckled. “Really? What did he call you?”

“Mr. Deep.”

Marinette snorted as she took another sip from the glass.

“He said it’s because I like to go on deep tangents and because my name starts with a D. Kid can’t pun to save his life.”

Marinette smirked at him. “You’re one to talk.”

He dropped his jaw. “I can’t believe you just asked me for a divorce, m’lady.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and smiled, walking past him on the way to the couch. She placed her wine glass on a small side table and pulled out a sketchbook from one of its drawers. She busied herself reviewing her work while Adrien gathered the courage to nudge the conversation in the direction it needed to go.

“M’lady?” he said from behind her.

“What did you do,” Marinette replied immediately, as she flipped through the pages of the sketchbook.

”I— why do you always assume I did something?”

Marinette turned around and mocked him, then gave him a knowing smirk. “It’s in your tone, Chaton. You can’t lie.”

“I am an excellent liar, I’ll have you know.” He stopped himself from bragging further, seeing as Marinette frowned.

“What is it, Adrien? What happened?”

Adrien’s palms were sweating with anxiety. He gulped. “First of all, I love you and you know that, right?”

“Adrien,” Marinette said, her voice hitching up her tone.

“It’s nothing bad . I mean, it’s a ‘could be worse’ sort of situation.”

“ Adrien !”

“Hypothetically speaking, imagine... what if, er... one of the wielders accidentally revealed himself to someone who, uh, someone who absolutely shouldn’t know? Hypothetically speaking.”

“Adrien, what did you DO ?” Marinette screeched.