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aphrcdites · 11 months ago

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THIS WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER 😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷

good luck, babe / nico hischier

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it," and i did.

/ or, the one where you and nico are unlucky in love.

word count: 23K pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader warnings: mild suggestive language, alcohol; some angst over mentions of ex-boyfriends, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff.

i'm back!!! 👋 this is my entry for @wyattjohnston's the summer fic exchange 2k24, written for bre @fallinallincurls.

this is my first fic exchange, and my first time writing a reader insert, so i'm very nervous, but i hope you love this. sorry it's so long — i maaay have gotten a little carried away and written you an actual novel, but i had the best time writing this.

inspired by your spotify on repeat playlist (and the new gracie abrams album because it screams summertime to me, and i felt like it fit this vibe), a few of your favourite tropes, and a little nod to f1 if you squint.

xoxo, katie ❤️

he said he'd love me for all time, but that time was quite short

When it came to romance and finding true love, you were cursed.

Looking back now, maybe you shouldn't have ignored those email chains that threatened 50 years of bad luck and failed relationships if you didn't forward them to 10 other people. You knew they were likely all hoaxes, but you needed something to blame your bad luck on.

Whether it was the result of an email chain you broke or a century-old spell cast upon your family for generations to come, you were absolutely doomed when it came to love.

No amount of cupcakes or buttercream frosting would change your relationship status, but it definitely didn't hurt the heartache.

Using your index finger, you swiped some of the vanilla bourbon frosting off of the latest tray of cupcakes that had been placed in the center of the table, taking your time to suck the sweet frosting from your finger. You let the sugary icing sit on your tongue momentarily before scrunching your nose in thought.

Your best friend, Gianna Carvelli, sat across the small cafe table, wearing a nearly identical expression as she ate her cupcake.

"That one's a three," Gianna finally spoke, placing the half-eaten cupcake back onto the tray between you. "Way too plain."

"I was going to give it an eight," you shrugged, watching Gianna furiously scribble her tasting scores into her notebook.

"They're good," Gianna agreed, eyes still focused on the notebook as she continued to write. "But if we're paying this much money, I don't want a vanilla wedding cake."

At this point, you had tasted nearly a dozen different icing and cupcake flavor combinations, and the plain vanilla felt like a welcome break. But you understood where Gianna was coming from, so you didn't push.

She had been kind enough to ask you to join her today, sampling every cake this small Newark bakery offered. It was a quiet and unassuming storefront, but Gianna had insisted they had the best baked goods in all of New Jersey, and she wasn't going to get married unless they supplied the cake. The plan was that you and Gianna would pick the perfect cake, and they would prepare it in New Jersey and then send it to her wedding venue… in Italy.

Gianna was not a dramatic or difficult bride-to-be, so when she mentioned this as her only wedding dealbreaker, her fiance, Nate Bastian, quickly agreed. You were sure it was probably a shipping logistics nightmare, but when you arrived at the bakery today, the older woman behind the counter insisted they did this kind of thing all the time. Nate's NHL player salary helping to fund the wedding probably didn't hurt, either.

You weren't sure how Gianna had even found this place, but after biting into the first cupcake, you knew why she had to have this one.

"Sorry," Gianna squeaked, her phone loudly ringing from where it rested on the tabletop.

You both glanced down to see Nate's name lit up across the screen. You gave her a slight nod to let her know it was okay, moving on to bite into the next cupcake flavor while Gianna answered the phone.

You took a moment to catch your breath, letting all of the sugary desserts have a second to digest while you listened to Gianna catch Nate up on the most recent flavor rankings. His phone call signaled that you two had been here nearly all afternoon, as he always called whenever he was on his way home from the rink.

Although, you were pretty sure his hours must have been shorter this week as the season was now over. Gianna had said something about physio at the rink before the final media interviews and locker cleanouts taking place this week. The pair would stay behind for a few more weeks in Newark before heading to Nate's hometown in Canada, where they usually spent their summers.

This was the last thing on the wedding checklist, and then your best friend could relax stress-free (or as stress-free as a bride can manage) before the big affair in August at her great-grandparents' vineyard in Italy. You had been there to help through every step of the process, taking on the role of co-planner when Nate's hockey schedule had him on the road and unavailable to pick out napkin colors or choose which candle height to include in the table centerpieces.

Planning Nate and Gianna's Tuscan nuptials over the last six months had been a welcome distraction, though. It couldn't have come at a better time for you.

And weirdly, Gianna and Nate owed this wedding to you. You were the entire reason they were together, after all.

You were the reason a lot of people had finally found their happily ever after.

You weren't a matchmaker by trade, but everyone you had ever dated, no matter how seriously or how long, always went on to find the one immediately after you broke up. Like clockwork, they would be engaged or married within six months of your break-up.

You couldn't deny the pattern, dating all the way back to middle school. You had your first kiss with Johnny Murphy, only for him to tell Cora Garcia that he liked her the next day. They were now happily married with three children.

Gianna, your closest confidant and best friend, felt otherwise. She was the most superstitious person you knew. She refused to wear mismatched socks on Devils' game days because Nate had taken a dirty hit and was injured the last time she did. Yet somehow, she refused to believe your curse was real.

Even though the entire reason this wedding was happening was because of your curse.

You had bought a ticket to a charity speed dating event from a girl in your college art history class two years ago. You didn't know her very well, but she had mentioned she had an extra ticket and was too scared to go alone. You were single and thought it wouldn't hurt to go, so you had agreed.

When you came down with the flu the morning of, Gianna was nice enough to take the ticket so it wouldn't go to waste and your classmate wouldn't have to go by herself. Gianna had ended up being paired with Nate as the very first match of the night. When she came home a few hours later, she was practically glowing.

You knew she was going to marry him right away.

You also knew your curse was stronger than ever.

It became a running joke with your friends. After a few too many glasses of wine one night, you posted a sarcastic Instagram story about everyone you've ever dated finding their soulmate right after. Since then, your DMs were full of people you hadn't spoken to since high school begging for a date. Half of them were offering to be the ones to break the curse, and the other was hoping to cash in on finding their true love right after you.

The only real exception to the curse had been Liam.

You two had been together for almost a year, your longest relationship in recent memory. Everything felt perfect about Liam, and you were convinced the curse was finally lifted.

You felt like you two worked. Liam was going to be your happily ever after, and you would be the one dragging Gianna around the city to sample wedding cakes and pick out floral arrangements before you and Liam spent the rest of your lives together.

Until six months ago, when he abruptly dumped you the day after your birthday through a text message about how you wanted different things in life. Apparently, he never saw himself settling down to get married or have kids despite telling you that was what he had wanted every day for the last year.

He had been the one to bring it up in every conversation. You didn't think you had ever pressured him into thinking you wanted all that now, but he still panicked and ran. And he couldn't give you the decency of doing it face to face.

The thought of that text still made your stomach hurt.

Or maybe all of the lemon meringue cupcakes caught up to you.

You pulled out your phone to distract yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied from wandering down that dangerous rabbit hole as Gianna continued to chat animatedly with Nate. If there was one thing your best friend was good at, it was yapping. She'd probably be on the phone with Nate for a while, so you turned to Instagram to try and find a better distraction while you waited.

You posted a couple of photos from the day to your story before scrolling through the posts on your homepage. The Instagram algorithm must have picked up on all of your wedding and honeymoon searches for Monaco that you had done with Gianna when helping her plan her European getaway. Your entire Explore page was filled with photos and reels of the city, including highlights of last year's Formula 1 race through the streets of Monaco. You scrolled through the posts, stopping to like the occasional photo.

Maybe you'd stop in Monaco on your way to Gianna's wedding and find a wealthy bachelor to make the whole trip worth it.

Wouldn't that be the best revenge—living happily ever after?

With a Monte Carlo love affair on your mind, you were probably six months deep in Charles Leclerc's Instagram feed when Gianna finally hung up the phone, placing it back onto the table as she turned her attention toward you.

"Sorry," she rushed out. "Nate's just finished with locker clear out and is heading uptown to his final suit fitting. Wait, what are you doing?" she asked, a perfectly manicured eyebrow arched in curiosity as she watched you focus all your attention on your phone screen.

"Finding my next boyfriend," you answered, pausing briefly only to double-tap a photo of the F1 driver cuddling a puppy. "Do you think the curse will still apply if I date a celebrity?"

"There is no curse."

"I think I could be okay with inevitably having my heartbroken if I at least get to jetset around the world in the meantime," you continued, ignoring her reply. "Get to be a multi-millionaire for a moment, you know?"

"You're ridiculous," Gianna groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Why do you say that?" you faked confusion, locking your phone and placing it facedown on the table.

"You're not cursed," Gianna deadpanned.

"Then how do you explain—"

"Enough with all of this melodramatic curse shit," she warned, shaking her head as she spoke. Her voice was firm, but you knew her well enough to know she wasn't actually upset with you. "I don't want to hear about the curse anymore. You're as bad as Nico."

"Oh, God," you groaned, slumping in your seat in defeat.

You had met Nico Hischier, Nate's captain, a few times at team events and parties Gianna had brought you to. He was always friendly and seemed to go out of his way to say hi whenever you were out together. You had assumed all was well between you, but did this mean Nico was ranting about you to Gianna, too?

"Nico barely knows me, and he thinks I'm cursed, too? I really am hopeless," you whined.

"No," Gianna laughed, reaching for the final cupcake you two had left to taste—a raspberry and champagne flavor combination. "He's convinced he's cursed, not you."

"Actually?" you leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as you anxiously waited for Gianna to swallow her bite of cake. You scowled as she took her time, purposely making you wait.

Nico being cursed was news to you. Was he suffering from the same affliction or something else entirely? You figured it was probably hockey-related, especially since the Devils' season had ended on a disappointing note.

"Apparently, he's just as unlucky in love," Gianna finally answered. "Nate told him to start selling dates on Facebook Marketplace or something. Advertise that meeting your soulmate only takes one date with him."

"Wait—"

"No," Gianna abruptly shook her head before you could finish your thought. "I don't like where this is going. You are not selling yourself on Facebook."

"If we're both cursed," you continued anyway, "wouldn't that mean it would cancel each other out, and when we broke up, we'd both find our real person?"

Gianna took her last bite of the cupcake, glaring at you as she chewed. She let your words process for a moment, taking her time to finish the cupcake and write down her final score for the flavor.

"I mean, hypothetically, yes," Gianna reluctantly agreed. But when she watched your face light up, she quickly shook her head to shut you down. "If the curse was real. Which it's not."

You rolled your eyes to dismiss her, sliding the torn piece of notebook paper Gianna had lent you for your cupcake scores across the table. She grabbed the paper, holding it up next to her notes, eyes skimming back and forth as she compared your favorites.

When she seemed distracted enough, you leaned forward with a sweet smile. "Can you set us up?" you asked.

"No. Absolutely not," Gianna replied without even looking up from the scorecards.

"What?" you gasped. You reached across the table to place your hand over the notebook Gianna was preoccupied with, forcing her to look back up at you. "Why?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as if she wasn't sure if your question was serious.

"Nico's one of Nate's best friends. I won't let you use him for your insane conspiracy theory. That's embarrassing."

As Gianna watched your face fall, confirming you were actually serious in your suggestion, she let out a small sigh before continuing.

"You're not going to pretend to date Nate's captain, who you didn't know was cursed five minutes ago, because you're now convinced he's the solution to your dating woes."

Okay, so it did sound a bit crazy when you heard it out loud.

"I love you way too much to ever let you do that," Gianna reiterated. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before batting it out of the way so she could focus on the notebook again. "Now, help me pick a final flavor, please."

With the brief moment of insanity passing, you let out a light laugh. At least you were embarrassing yourself in front of Gianna, not Nate or Nico. As blunt as she was being, your best friend had your best interests in mind and was doing you a favor.

After eating a lifetime's worth of cake that afternoon, only to land on double chocolate as the winning flavor, you had opted to walk back to your apartment rather than carpool with Gianna. She had insisted she didn't mind dropping you off, but you knew she was heading in the opposite direction to meet Nate at the tailor for his suit fitting.

Walking also offered you some time to mull over everything Gianna had said.

She had warned you at the very beginning that Liam seemed to have commitment issues. She had nothing against him; she was just looking out for you and wanted to ensure you weren't hurt.

Naturally, you had ignored her and let yourself fall head over heels for Liam by your third date.

And like any best friend would, she was still by your side, supporting you and your relationship every step of the way, even if it meant having to bite her tongue occasionally—something Gianna had always found incredibly difficult.

She was no-nonsense and always called it like it was. Realistically, you should have listened to her more often. Maybe you'd end up with better luck. It certainly felt like it couldn't get any worse.

If you told yourself enough times that this entire curse was made up and all in your head, you'd start to believe it. You probably were melodramatic about everything, but you'd never openly admit that to Gianna. After what you had gone through over the last year and a half, it more than warranted a little dramatics.

You thought you had found the one, and just as quickly, it ended without any real reason as to what had gone wrong. If the two of you fought all the time or someone had cheated, it would have made it hurt less that it was over. At least then, you could pinpoint why Liam didn't want to be together anymore. Instead, you had yet to find answers despite constantly mulling over every tiny detail for the last six months.

Arriving at your apartment building, you made a slight detour to the mailroom to check for a package you had been waiting for. You had ordered a couple of dress options for the weddings you had coming up that summer, including Gianna's.

It felt like everyone you knew was getting married this summer.

And once upon a time, you thought you might have been, too.

Not that Liam had ever proposed. Or bought a ring. Or even hinted at anything related to a proposal.

In fact, when you unwrapped a small jewelry box on your birthday last year, you thought that was the moment. Only to discover Liam had bought you an anklet, not an engagement ring.

That was worse than getting nothing at all.

But a small part of you always thought it felt right, and he was about to ask at any moment. It was probably because he talked about wedding plans constantly. You two had practically planned your wedding day—with only your closest family and friends at a beautiful garden estate outside Paris, France.

But that had been nearly six months ago, and he had texted you the following day to say it was over. According to your standard curse timeline, he should have already moved on to find his soulmate and be engaged.

He had yet to even post a girl on Instagram, something you checked frequently, so you figured the chances he was secretly engaged or married felt slim to none. Always the exception, Liam seemed to be the first ex that didn't fall into the standard timeline. Part of you hoped that meant you were supposed to get back together after all.

Your cousin, Clara, lived in the same apartment building as Liam in Brooklyn. She had been the one to introduce you two initially. You had asked a few times right after the break-up if she ever saw him anymore—and she always said no. You eventually felt awkward and stopped asking.

Clara had been your best friend growing up, practically sisters. Naturally, as you got older and life got in the way, you started to drift a bit, but when you and Liam broke up, she had been a shoulder to cry on throughout the entire thing.

She supported you the best she could, but she was also a flight attendant with a demanding work schedule that required her to spend extended stretches in Europe, so you had admittedly not seen her very much in the last few months. She had called out of the blue a few weeks ago, mentioning she had met someone new, but you were on the subway at the time, and the connection was spotty at best. You'd have to make a mental note to call her back soon.

No packages were waiting in your mail slot; only a small stack of envelopes from the mail you had failed to collect throughout the week. You shuffled through the stack to see if there was anything of interest. They were mostly junk mail, except for one obnoxious blue envelope with your name scribbled across it in loopy silver handwriting.

You tore into the envelope, fishing out the card inside, only for your heart to stop. You nearly dropped the card as your brain finally registered what you were looking at.

It was a wedding invitation.

A wedding invitation to Liam's wedding.

A wedding invitation to Liam's wedding to Clara.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

Of course, it was in Paris, too. At Chateau de Villette—the exact wedding venue you had picked. The city you had always dreamed of visiting.

You glanced around the mailroom to check if someone was hiding with a camera. This had to be a prank. There was no way Liam was getting married. Or that Clara would date your ex-boyfriend without ever telling you. Had you somehow missed every sign along the way?

The more you flipped the invitation over in your hand, the more real it became.

Because somehow, six months after he had abruptly dumped you through a text message about how he never saw himself settling down to get married or have kids, he was suddenly ready to do just that. But it was with Clara.

Clara, who was the closest thing to a sister that you had and had been the shoulder you cried on through the break-up. Clara, who had continued to call and check in on you every day throughout those six months, always conveniently leaving out that she was helping Liam through the break-up, too.

This wasn't all in your head.

You were cursed.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive

All of your progress over the last six months in getting over Liam had been completely destroyed.

You probably would have never opened it if you knew what awaited you inside that envelope. Or, at the very least, you would have taken a few seconds to savor what life was like before you found out about Liam and Clara.

Now, you were right back to square one, heartbreak as fresh as the day he had first left.

After a week of sulking on your couch, surviving off of delivery food and a bag of chocolate chips you had found in your cupboard, you decided it was time to get some fresh air. Well, Gianna had decided for you when she had shown up unannounced, cleaned up your takeout container graveyard, and shoved you into the shower.

A bit of tough love was what your best friend was always good for. She let you rant and cry, then put you back together like she had done six months ago.

You were starting to feel a bit lighter, almost like your usual self again, after an afternoon of Gianna helping you back onto your feet. She had dinner plans that night with Nate that she offered for you to join, but you insisted that she go and you'd be fine. Your big plan for the evening was to venture to the grocery store and pick up something to cook for yourself for dinner.

It wasn't a lofty goal, but considering that even opening your fridge to look for ingredients felt like too much to bear yesterday, you needed to start challenging yourself if you were ever going to move on.

As luck would have it, it started raining when you were about a block from the store. So there you were, soaking wet from your walk, shivering and miserable as the supermarket blasted their air conditioning. You could vaguely feel your teeth chattering from the cold air, your once warm hoodie dripping raindrops onto the floor of whatever aisle you were standing in.

Whenever you thought you had no tears left, something would click, and you'd be sniffling again. Right now, staring at breakfast cereal, you were about to cry over the stupid leprechaun on the box of Lucky Charms. You didn't even like Lucky Charms, but Liam sometimes ate it, and you remember always seeing a box of them on top of his fridge.

You weren't sure how long you had been standing here at this point. Your eyes glazed over as you stared blankly at the shelf of boxes before you. When you finally blinked, the sounds of footsteps and voices of other shoppers floating around the aisles came back into focus. Realizing you probably looked crazy, you hastily grabbed the first cereal box at eye level and shoved it into your basket.

You should have planned something more cohesively meal-wise. Your basket was a catch-all of snacks at the moment, plus a bottle of wine you had grabbed when you first entered the store. The box you had grabbed turned out to be Rice Crispies. If you picked up a bag of marshmallows, you could be eating Rice Crispie squares for dinner tonight.

You spun around to leave, desperate to get out of this aisle before anyone else noticed how you had been crying over kid's cereal. Except as you abruptly turned, with your head down and eyes fixed on the speckled tile floor below you, you slammed directly into another body. You were so focused on your escape that you didn't notice anyone standing that close to you until you heard their basket tumble to the ground.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," you stammered, bending down to frantically help pick up the items that had scattered everywhere. A box of Cheerios you assumed the older woman had been holding when you bumped into her had burst on impact and was now everywhere.

"You really need to watch where you're going," the woman snapped, making no motion to help you. She scowled down at you, watching you pick up her things. "Kids these days are too focused on their phones to pay attention to the world around them."

You wanted to snap back that you weren't even on your phone. It had been safely tucked in your pocket, but you bit your tongue.

"I know, I'm really sorry," you repeated. You grabbed the final pack of cookies that had fallen to the floor and placed it into the basket the woman expectantly held toward you.

You thought she would at least thank you or acknowledge your apologies, but instead, she scoffed. "Next time, watch where you're going."

You flinched at her words, unsure what about this interaction warranted this much anger. It had been an accident, and you had apologized; you weren't sure what else to do. But she showed no signs of letting you get away, continuing to lecture you as if you didn't already feel like shit. You wanted nothing more than for the floor to cave in and swallow you up.

"I know," you sighed. You pulled the sleeves of your wet hoodie over your hands, trying to shrink yourself away. "Again, it was an accident, and I'm—"

The sound of your name being called cut you off.

You glanced to your left in the direction it had come from just as Nico appeared at your side. He was easily recognizable as, despite it being the off-season now, he was wearing a pair of New Jersey Devils shorts and a matching hoodie. His shaggy brown hair was tucked under a black beanie, which you assumed he probably was given free from the team as well.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," he said, shooting you a quick wink before he turned to face the older woman. He gave her a big smile, perfectly carved dimples on each cheek on display as he turned on the charm.

"Sorry, this is my fault," he explained to the woman, putting a hand on your back to pull you into his side as he spoke. "We're running late for dinner with my parents, so I asked her to rush."

He effortlessly reached behind him to grab a new box of Cheerios from off the shelf. As he placed it into her basket to replace the one now scattered across the floor, you could see the woman visibly melting under his attention.

"It's okay," she smiled at Nico, "accidents happen."

You scowled at this interaction but continued to bite your tongue. As annoying as this sudden switch was, it would hopefully mean she was done lecturing you, and you could finally escape while she was distracted, drooling over Nico.

When the woman looked back at you, you forced out the fakest smile you could muster. "Accidents happen," you agreed, giving her a grin that was all teeth.

She gave you a short nod to acknowledge your comment before thanking Nico and turning to leave. As she moved past you, her basket hit your arm, no doubt an intentional final dig at you.

"Thank you," you sighed, turning to face Nico.

"No problem," he laughed. He was still smiling, his big brown eyes filled with amusement. "As fun as that was to watch, it didn't look like she would let you leave until you had paid for all her groceries as punishment or something."

"That would be just my luck."

You stepped to the side as a man with a cart came down the aisle to pass between you. You cringed at the sound of the wheels crunching over the rogue Cheerios on the ground.

"Well, thanks for rescuing me," you said once the man had passed. "I don't want to make you late for dinner with your parents."

"Oh, uh, there's no dinner," he chuckled, scratching nervously at the stubble on his jaw. "I was just on the phone with my mom, so it was the first thing that came to mind. I'm not a great liar, so I panicked a little."

You smiled at the admission, watching as he adjusted the beanie on his head. You hadn't spent enough time with Nico to notice if he was usually someone to nervously fidget, but you were a bit caught off guard by his sudden demeanor. You had always seen him in a team setting as their brave and confident captain.

And he had surely been bold and charming when rescuing you moments before.

"You seemed like a natural to me," you assured him. You hoped he picked up on the sarcasm to see if it would ease some of his sudden nerves.

"I don't know if that's a good thing," he chuckled quietly.

Nico looked down at the shopping basket in your hand, his lips curling up into a smirk as he surveyed the cereal, assortment of chocolates, and wine you were holding.

"Date tonight?" he asked.

"Nah, more like a pity party," you answered with a small laugh. Nico raised his eyebrows at your answer, unsure he understood what you meant. "Just sulking over a break-up," you clarified.

"Oh shit," he muttered, feeling guilty over his joke. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was—"

You paused. How did you tell Nico the break-up was six months ago, but you were still moping?

According to Gianna, he'd probably know your pain if you told him you had already grieved the relationship and were now mourning all over again because he was once again getting married, and you were completely alone.

Instead, you settled for, "It's a long story."

He looked you over briefly, his expression unreadable as he stayed quiet. "Did you walk here?" he eventually asked.

"Yeah, I only live a few blocks away." You shivered as another wave of cold air hit your still-wet sweater. You glanced down at your outfit, realizing you were still soaked from the rainstorm outside. It was probably why he was asking, but it still made you self-conscious about how this must make you look to him. "In my defense, it wasn't raining when I left."

He laughed, shaking his head as his eyes raked over you. "Do you want a ride back?" he asked, scratching at his neck again as he brought his gaze up to meet yours. "It's still pouring outside, so you probably shouldn't be walking."

"Yeah," you nodded, "that would be great."

"I need to grab a couple more things, but I'll meet you out front?"

Waiting for Nico at the front entrance, you couldn't resist picking up one of the fresh bouquets of flowers they kept at the check-out counters. You balanced your paper bag of groceries on your hip, flowers held firmly in your other hand, as you watched the rain steadily fall through the glass entrance doors.

Nico was holding a small bag when he joined you. His eyes immediately fell to the flowers in your hand.

"What's on the menu tonight?" you asked before he could comment about the flowers. You figured you already had looked like enough of a sob story to him so far today; the last thing you were going to do was admit that these flowers were a last-ditch attempt to turn your day around.

"Honestly, just trying to use up the leftovers in my apartment before I leave so I don't come back in the Fall to something growing in my fridge," he answered. "I'm heading back to Switzerland on Monday."

"Ah, we're both cooking gourmet tonight," you teased, earning an eye roll from Nico.

He held the door open as you exited the store before urging you to wait there for a moment while he got his car. You watched him pull the hood of his sweater up before jogging off into the rain where his car was parked. When he pulled up to the curb, he reached across the passenger seat to open the door, allowing you to quickly dash from the store to his car.

He had the heat on in the car, and the seat warmer was waiting for you. Despite it being late spring in New Jersey, it had been cold and rainy all week, the type of chill you could feel in your bones. But his car was warm, and you were thankful for the offer. There was no way you could walk home in this weather; you would have been stuck wandering the store's aisles until the rain let up if Nico hadn't shown up.

"Do you want to come to mine for dinner?" Nico asked as you buckled your seatbelt.

He wasn't sure what prompted him to invite you, but the words were already out there.

Most of his teammates had begun to head home for the summer, and those still around were booked with family or girlfriends they had neglected all season. He didn't have anyone else to hang out with, and anytime you tagged along with Nate and Gianna to a Devils event, he enjoyed your company. You fit in easily with the team dynamic, so he thought you two were allowed to be friendly despite not knowing each other that well.

"I've got plenty of food," he continued when you didn't answer right away, "and I don't love the idea of you going home to have cereal and wine for dinner."

"That's actually a classic break-up meal, thank you very much," you countered, trying to ignore the blush you could feel growing hot on your cheeks.

As if sensing your unease, Nico's reassuring smile only grew. "I always preferred strawberry ice cream, but that's just me."

You mulled over the offer, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought. While you appreciated the invitation, being caught in your current state was embarrassing. You didn't want to burden Nico with having to hang out with you because he was pitying you. You could go home and be fine. But he also seemed genuine in his offer.

It was as though he wanted to ensure you were taking care of yourself tonight, not just because he felt bad for you.

"Do you have strawberry ice cream at your apartment?" you asked.

His smile grew as if your question confirmed he had won you over. You were momentarily distracted by how adorable his dimples looked as he smiled, so you almost didn't hear his response.

"Always."

"Then yes," you answered.

You weren't quite sure why you were so quick to agree when, moments before, all you had been fixated on was going home. But your cheap grocery store wine and Netflix rom coms would still be waiting for you when you returned. It wouldn't hurt to hang out with Nico for a few hours.

You hoped it wouldn't be awkward. You had never spent time one-on-one with Nico before, but there was something oddly comforting about him. Gianna only ever had nice things to say about him, and it was obvious from every team event you had been to how much the guys adored and respected Nico as their captain.

He was a natural leader. You were simply following his lead.

As Nico let you into his apartment, you kicked off your wet shoes before following him into the kitchen. You put your bag of groceries down on the island counter before asking Nico for a vase for the flowers. You weren't looking for anything fancy; they just needed to be in some water so they wouldn't dry out before you could bring them home.

"What are the flowers for?" he asked. The question had been nagging at him since he had noticed you holding them at the store.

"I thought they might cheer me up a bit," you replied, keeping your answer as light and vague as possible. "Doesn't everyone like coming home to fresh flowers?"

"Never thought about it like that, honestly," he said. Nico's apartment was clean and looked relatively well-kept but very much like a bachelor's apartment. There was no sign of fresh flowers, throw pillows, or any decoration to make the home feel more loved and lived in. "I thought flowers were more of a birthday or anniversary thing."

"And that's where you'd be wrong," you laughed, rolling your eyes at his typical response. "Sure, birthday flowers are nice, but it's the just because flowers that make someone fall in love with you."

"Just because?" he repeated, confusion evident on his face.

"Flowers you bought just because you wanted to. Not because they asked for them or you felt obligated to give them. You did it to surprise them and do something meaningful."

"Oh," he nodded. "I'll try to remember that."

You searched his face for a sign of sarcasm, not sure if he was taking you seriously. And why would he? He had found you looking like a drowned rat in the junk food aisle of his local grocery store. You weren't exactly the poster child for relationship advice right now.

He had a shy smile on his face as he turned toward the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through the one above the sink. He made a small noise, almost a grunt of victory, before he turned around with a jar in his hands. It was obviously an old pasta sauce or pickle jar that had been cleaned out and removed of its label. It wasn't a traditional flower vase, but it was probably the closest you would find in a bachelor hockey player's apartment.

"That'll work," you smiled, taking the jar from him.

You placed the flowers inside before carrying them to the sink and filling them with water. It was a bit unsteady since the flowers were too tall for the jar. You placed it on the counter beside the fridge, delicately leaning the flowers against the side of the refrigerator for support so the whole thing wouldn't topple over.

"Ice cream is in the freezer," Nico offered, pulling off the black beanie he had been wearing and raking his hands through his staticky hair.

Satisfied that the flowers weren't going anywhere, you turned your attention toward the fridge. You paused as you grabbed the handle, distracted by the cards stuck all over the stainless steel fridge. Your eyes scanned over the colorful array of cardstock, all containing different combinations of names and addresses in loopy calligraphy.

"I don't mean to alarm you," you spoke carefully, "but I think someone's given your address out."

You slipped one of the cards out from the magnet that held it up so you could inspect it further, reading the details on the invitation. You didn't recognize the names, so they weren't teammates. And it was in New York, so it didn't seem like a friend from home.

"You've been sent an invitation to every wedding in the tri-state area this summer," you joked.

Nico laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that you couldn't help but smile at the sound of. It was infectious. He joined you at the fridge, looking over your shoulder to see which card you were holding.

"Ah, Paige," he muttered, reading the names on the invite. "She lives across the hall."

"And this one?" you asked, pointing to a bold red invitation that stood out from the rest of the bunch. The June date and the couple's name were written in elegant gold ink that sparkled under the overhead lights.

"That's Sunny," he answered. "My sister's best friend."

"Oh, so they're not from the curse, then," you blurted out. As soon as you realized what you had done, you clapped your hand over your mouth, mortified by what you had said.

Nico's face went beet red. "You know about that?"

"Gianna told me," you answered, carefully replacing the invitation to its original spot on Nico's fridge door. "But only because I have the same problem. She mentioned it more in passing when I was complaining. She said I sounded just like you."

"Most of them are from the curse," he said, stepping closer behind you to point to another invitation. "Ex-girlfriend from high school, one-night stand, Tinder date," he rattled off, pointing to each invitation as he went.

You followed his finger as he moved through them all. You thought of the handful of cards of your own stacked on your kitchen counter with the rest of your junk mail. You declined most of the invitations you received these days. Liam thought it was weird to attend a wedding with you for someone you had known romantically before him.

The irony that he still thought of inviting you to his wedding was not lost on you.

"Oh, this one's good," he laughed, pulling one of the smaller cards off the fridge. "Marissa. Dated her for a week before her cat climbed the tree outside my apartment. She's now marrying the firefighter who came to rescue it."

"Seriously?" you gawked, trying not to laugh too hard at his apparent misfortune. "I thought they only did that in movies."

"Just my luck," Nico shrugged, putting the card back on the fridge.

Once it was back in place, he opened the freezer, handing you the small pint of strawberry ice cream he kept in case of emergencies. Sweet treat in hand, you went to sit at one of the bar stools tucked under the kitchen island. You pried the lid off the top while Nico brought a few of the Tupperware containers of leftovers over to the counter for plating.

"You may be even more cursed than me," you told him, watching as he arranged a plate of what looked to be leftover pasta.

Gianna constantly complained that the only meal Nate ever seemed to eat during the season was pasta. She was Italian, and yet his carb-heavy diet was too much chicken and pasta even for her. Nico was apparently part of that hockey player stereotype, too. You tried to hide your grin by taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"So I take it you don't have a fridge covered in invitations?" he asked.

"No, there haven't been too many this year." You shrugged as he slid the smaller of the two plates across the island to you. "I usually decline most of them, so I think I stopped getting invited. Do you actually go to all these weddings?"

"Some of them," he replied. "They're usually not too bad. Sometimes, a bridesmaid or something will hear I'm coming, and suddenly, I'm the most popular guy at the wedding. Everyone wants to try their luck."

"Oh, you poor thing," you mocked. "Beautiful bridesmaids throwing themselves at you to be the next one to sleep with you."

"You're laughing, but it's not all it's cracked up to be," he muttered. You watched the crimson blush creeping up his neck as he kept his eyes focused on the Tupperware containers he was replacing the lids on. "I feel a bit like a zoo exhibit sometimes."

You knew exactly what he meant. Every time someone offered to be the one to break the curse or asked you out, hoping to cash in on your misfortune, they never stopped to consider what that did to you. It was emotionally draining to always feel like you were fighting a losing battle.

You could tell from Nico's body language that this whole thing had taken a toll on him over time. The novelty and excitement eventually wears off. And then suddenly, you're facing a summer of weddings for people you had once deeply cared for, who had moved on and found the happiness you were looking for in someone else.

After putting the containers back into the fridge, he carried his plate around the island to take the seat next to you. Scooping up another mouthful of the strawberry ice cream, you suddenly had an idea.

"I can come with you," you offered. It was a bold suggestion, and you were a bit too fragile to be able to watch Nico outright reject you, so you kept your eyes focused on the ice cream as you spoke. "If you're there with someone else, it might spare you from being hunted for sport at these things."

"Actually?"

You nodded, bravely turning on the stool so you could face him. "I come with you to yours, and you come with me to mine."

His brows knit together as if he were thinking through the proposal. "But I'm already going to Nate and Gianna's wedding."

"My, uh, my ex-boyfriend sent me an invitation," you admitted. "He's getting married six months after we broke up."

"Right on schedule," Nico agreed, the corners of his mouth turning downward.

"Hence the pity party," you nervously laughed, gesturing to the pint of ice cream.

Nico was quiet for a moment too long. You regretted opening your mouth now. You were about to ramble on about how you were only kidding and didn't mean it when Nico finally spoke up again. "Would that count as a date?"

"I mean, I guess?" you tried to downplay your answer, nervously playing with the spoon in your hands. "You don't have to be introducing me as a girlfriend or anything. We can go as friends."

"If I introduced you as my girlfriend, wouldn't that cancel out the bad luck?" You could practically see the gears turning in Nico's head. "We'd both be cursed and then have to find the one after the summer is over."

You choked on your breath for a moment, coughing to try and compose yourself. This was exactly what you had suggested to Gianna last week, and she had shut you down. You felt oddly vindicated that Nico's mind immediately went to the same idea.

"Shit, sorry, that sounded crazy," he rushed out. "I didn't mean—"

"No, I know exactly what you mean," you cut him off. "It is crazy. But at this point, I'm willing to try anything."

i just need a little lovin', i just need a little air

You had never been so hungover in your entire life.

Unsurprisingly, Nico was an incredible wedding date. He was charming and the life of the party, lighting up nearly every room he walked into. This made showing up to complete strangers' weddings a lot easier. Selfishly, it felt nice not to be alone for an evening, even if you weren't really together.

But Nico could drink like a fish and wake up completely fine the following day.

You were not as lucky.

Last night, you had joined Nico at your third wedding of the summer. Celebrating Marissa and Griffin, Nico's girlfriend of a week and the firefighter who had swept her (and her cat) right out from under him, who were married at a lavish affair at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan.

You had lost track of how many glasses of champagne you had by the time the dancefloor opened. When Marissa insisted that everyone join her for shots, you couldn't exactly say no to the bride.

You didn't remember much else from the wedding, but you knew you at least had fun. And you had two weeks to recover before you had to do this all over again at your next wedding.

Gary and Indigo were getting married at a rustic old barn outside of Princeton, New Jersey. Hopefully, it would be a much tamer party—if your hangover had ended by then.

Was it a consequence of last night's choices or the idea of going to the wedding of the guy you had gone on exactly three dates with before he abruptly left you for the barista you had befriended at your favorite cafe? That was the worst part of the curse for you. Not only were your former dates and past loves finding their soulmates, but it almost felt like you were the one directly introducing them every time.

Not that Gary and you would have worked out in the long run. You had nothing in common, and he was actually pretty boring to talk to, but Indigo remained a friend because you refused to let the curse take your favorite coffee place from you, too.

Nico was in disbelief when you told him about that upcoming wedding.

"You thought your soulmate was a guy named Gary?" he had snorted. "Come on."

After your chance run-in with Nico at the grocery store last month, you half-expected him to be joking when he agreed to your offer to accompany him to all his weddings. But he texted you a complete list of dates and locations the next day. Consulting the invitation graveyard growing on your kitchen counter, you sent back a list of all the weddings you had been invited to.

The next thing you knew, Nico was booking plane tickets and hotels, and you were digging through the back of your closet to find an acceptable dress. The offer to pretend to be together for the summer was in full effect, and you two had RSVPed as a couple to a total of eight weddings over the next few months.

There had been more, but with Nico spending most of his summer in Switzerland and you in New Jersey with limited vacation time from work, you were a bit restricted. You had to make some compromises and decline a few invitations, but you had circled the two most significant events on your calendar.

June was the busiest month in the schedule, but all of the weddings were in New Jersey or New York, so Nico was flying back every other weekend to meet you. In July, you were meeting him in London for a weekend. Then, the season ended with Clara and Liam's wedding in Paris, followed by Gianna and Nate's wedding in Tuscany.

The first wedding had been fine. The bride was a mutual friend of yours and Nico's, and apparently, also one of his past one-night stands. You knew a few people there, so it wasn't too awkward, but Nico was a bit low-energy.

He was fresh from a red-eye flight from Prague, having just lost to Czechia in the gold medal game of the World Championship. You had no idea how or why he still came to the wedding, but he put on a charming smile and seemed pretty convincing every time he said he was fine.

The following weekend, you joined Nico at his neighbor's wedding in Jersey City, where he was in a much better mood. And that brought you to this weekend, where you faced your first doubleheader, having gone to your former blind date Rory's wedding to Brett on Friday night and then immediately to Marissa and Griffin's wedding the next day.

You needed water.

Finally pulling yourself off the couch you vaguely remember passing out on last night, you dragged yourself into the kitchen to find some sort of sustenance. Resting on the kitchen counter was a bottle of Gatorade and two capsules of Ibuprofen on top of a post-it note stuck to the granite.

Had to run for an early flight, but I hope the hangover isn't too bad. Text me when you're alive, please. See you in 2 weeks. Nico

You laughed that he had signed his name as if anyone else was breaking into your apartment and leaving hangover care packages. You quickly swallowed the painkillers before downing half the bottle of Gatorade in a few gulps.

You didn't know if Nico's mention of an early flight meant he left last night after the Uber dropped you off or if he had stayed over. You had a really fuzzy memory of an equally drunk Nico helping you get your shoes off after you stumbled through the front door. You couldn't recall anything he had said to you, as he sometimes mixed up his English and Swiss German when drinking. You could remember how you had spent the entire Uber ride from the city with your head half out the window, trying to focus on your breathing as the whole world seemed to be spinning.

A second blanket was neatly folded on the armchair next to your couch, and you didn't recall it being there before. Maybe Nico had slept there to make sure you were okay? Everything was still such a blur.

You had lost sight of Nico after the third tequila shot, having been adopted by Marissa and her friends as an honorary bridesmaid for the night.

Your stomach turned just thinking of the drinks from the night before.

Dropping the half-empty bottle of Gatorade back onto the counter, you sprinted toward the bathroom with a hand firmly clamped over your mouth.

Luckily, you made it just in time.

You remembered finding yourself in the bathroom the night before, bonding with the bridesmaids as you all helped to hold up the massive tulle skirt of Marissa's ballgown wedding dress while she used the toilet.

There was something oddly heartwarming about the bond drunk girls formed in the bathroom. No matter how well you knew each other to start, it was an unwritten rule for those few minutes that you were best friends, whether you'd ever see each other again or not. You didn't trust anyone who didn't love a drunken bathroom best friend.

So, while you awkwardly maneuvered in the tiny stall, Marissa giggled as she introduced you to one of her bridesmaids as Nico's girlfriend.

"Wait, like the Nico you dated before Griffin?" Her bridesmaid, Tianna, had gasped.

"Yep," Marissa hiccuped in confirmation as you watched Tianna's jaw drop.

But Marissa sighed, letting her drunken thoughts continue to spill out. "I felt so bad when I broke up with him. He was a really nice guy, but Griffin was just…"

"The one?" you finished for her as her voice trailed off. Knowing Nico's dating history, you were pretty confident about where this story went.

"Yeah," Marissa nodded, smiling to herself as she thought of her new husband.

"It's okay," Tianna added, giving you a subtle wink. "It all worked out for the best, didn't it?"

"I hope it works out for you two," Marissa continued as the three of you tried to collect her dress and shuffle out of the bathroom stall. "I mean, Nico is incredible. And so are you! You both deserve someone like each other."

You laughed before politely thanking her. "He's a good guy. I hope it works out, too."

You felt odd lying, but technically, it wasn't a lie. You did hope it worked out—you didn't need to specify what it was to Marissa. She didn't need to know you were anxiously awaiting your inevitable break-up so you could meet the one, just like she had done after Nico.

"Do you think he's it?" Tianna asked as she helped to fluff Marissa's dress back into shape.

"Have you seen the two of them together?" Marissa giggled. "Of course he's it!"

You kept your mouth shut as Tianna continued to adjust Marissa's dress. You leaned against the counter's edge, watching the bride wash her hands in the reflection. You weren't quite sure how to react to this conversation. You guessed it was reassuring that the two of you were putting on a convincing show.

"How do you know when they are?" Tianna asked, grabbing your attention again. "Like, when do you know someone is actually the one?"

You took that moment to pull your favorite chapstick from your purse, hoping to buy yourself some time as you applied it in the mirror. Maybe Tianna was drunk enough to forget her train of thought if you didn't answer immediately. You were at a loss for what to say anyway.

You had never found the one. Quite the opposite, really.

"You just know. It's almost as if the feeling of coming home was another person. It's hard to explain in words," Marissa answered for you. "You just have to trust your gut, and you'll know."

Something about the whole thing made you feel uneasy. Guilty, almost?

It was hard to listen to your gut when all it was doing was screaming about tequila.

Oh, God.

Even thinking of tequila made you want to—

You heaved into the toilet once more, spitting up what little alcohol was left inside of you.

Three weddings down.

Only five more to go.

i was brave when i kissed you in london

When you had initially offered to be Nico's wedding date for the summer, all of the invitations stuck to his fridge had listed venues throughout New York City and New Jersey. You had never imagined so much international travel would be involved, and you'd find yourself using up your remaining year's allotment of vacation days from work to attend a stranger's wedding in England.

Yet here you were, shoving your life into a carry-on suitcase and taking a red-eye flight from Newark to London for the weekend to see Nico's sister's best friend get married.

Nico had insisted he book and pay for your flight, upgrading your seat to business class so you could at least attempt to get some sleep on the transatlantic flight. He said it was the least he could do to make the journey more comfortable, considering you would only be in England for 72 hours. You were flying home overnight on Sunday to be back at work in New Jersey on Monday morning.

You were exhausted just thinking about it.

You wished it wasn't so rushed, but you had used up all your vacation time for Gianna's wedding in August. It would be worth it, though, as you were spending two weeks in Italy with her before the wedding. You would be there to help make sure everything was set up and ready to go—and maybe throw her a surprise bachelorette party, too.

The moment your plane landed, you were jumping in an Uber to try to hit all of the major tourist landmarks before you were set to meet Nico at your apartment that night. Nico was also only in London for the weekend, having to head back to Bern on Sunday for his regularly scheduled off-season workouts.

Nico's sister had insisted you stay at the couple's apartment for the night rather than pay for a hotel. The bride and groom were already at their hotel with the rest of the wedding party for the weekend, but their rambunctious American Water Spaniel, named Bear, was at their apartment and needed a dog sitter.

You weren't going to be picky or risk making a bad first impression with Nico's friends and family, so you had agreed to stay at this complete stranger's apartment for the night. Nico even let you take the bigger bedroom, insisting it made more sense for you to have the ensuite bathroom to get ready in the next morning.

After so many celebrations of exes and one-time romantic flings that were leaving a lot more of an emotional toll than either you or Nico were ever going to openly admit, this weekend's wedding felt like a welcome break. It was a fun, low-stakes party that you could both enjoy.

His sister's best friend, Sunny, was getting married at a church in London, but it seemed the entire population of Switzerland had traveled into town for the grand event. Nico had mentioned he had known Sunny his entire life, having grown up in the same Swiss village. She had moved to London with her fiance, Colin, about a year ago, but they had been planning this wedding for years. When you saw the size of the church (and the wedding party), you quickly understood why this wedding had taken so long to put together.

Not a detail had gone unnoticed, and no expense had been spared.

Nico's older brother, Luca, dramatically rolled his eyes as the three of you exited your taxi to arrive at the venue. You were willing to bet the budget they must have spent on flowers to decorate the church entrance probably cost more than your salary for the entire year. It looked beautiful, but it felt a bit over the top. Luca had warned you that Sunny could be a bit much but didn't explain how or why.

You now understood what he meant.

You watched Nico adjust his tie as the three of you headed toward the front door of the church. Stopping just shy of the line of guests queuing to get inside, you lightly shooed his hands away to fix the crooked tie. Once satisfied with how it was sitting, you smoothed your hands over the lapels of his suit jacket, smiling in satisfaction.

"Does it look alright?" Nico asked, voice low so only you could hear him.

He looked more than alright.

This suit had to have been custom-tailored the way it fit him so perfectly. Your eyes bulged out of your head like some sort of cartoon character when you first saw him all dressed up today. The black dress pants clung to his muscular thighs, accentuating the strength and definition playing hockey gave him.

You had seen Nico in a suit plenty of times before at Devils games. But this sleek all-black outfit, in contrast to the rough shadow of stubble he had grown out over the last few weeks, was absolutely doing it for you.

Something about Nico had your stomach in knots today. He always looked good, but you physically couldn't keep your eyes off him. It was almost like you were suddenly seeing him in a different light.

When Luca caught you staring, very obviously checking his little brother out, he shot you a wink over Nico's shoulder.

"You look great," you managed to squeak out. "At least one of the top 3 best dressed Hischiers here today."

He laughed at your comment before lacing his hand with yours and walking toward the entrance. The sound of his laughter made you feel lightheaded, holding on tightly to his hand to try and keep yourself steady. If he noticed how hard you were squeezing his hand, he made no motion to acknowledge it.

As you approached, one of the flower girls greeted you, handing you a single red rose with the wedding program. You smiled at the young girl to thank her before tucking the program into the small purse you had brought with you.

"This is a bit much," Luca muttered from next to Nico, but you heard him loud and clear. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, hoping he'd elaborate. He shrugged when he noticed you looking at him expectantly. "It feels like they're overcompensating."

You didn't know Sunny or Colin well enough to say if Luca was right, but by the way Nico involuntarily snorted at his comment and immediately tried to cover it up with a cough, you could put the clues together.

The three of you mingled at the top of the aisle, waiting for the crowd to thin out before you went to find a place to sit. As you waited, guests occasionally stopped and said hello to Nico and Luca, chatting animatedly in Swiss German. You had no idea what they were saying, but you assumed they were either family or friends from back home.

They would all exchange a few words in Swiss German while you politely nodded and smiled. They would eventually reach a point in the conversation where you heard Nico say your name, and they'd usually grab you for a tight hug, as you assumed he was introducing you.

"You probably shouldn't say that too loud," Luca chuckled as the latest group of visitors left—an older woman who had pinched Nico's dimpled cheek when she first said hello.

"Fuck off," Nico grumbled, but that only piqued your interest more. You couldn't understand what they were saying, but the fact that Luca had switched back to English to caution Nico meant he wanted you to understand the warning, too.

"What shouldn't you say?" you asked, your brow furrowed as you looked between Nico and Luca.

"He—" Nico shot Luca a look that immediately shut him up. "Nothing," Luca waved off.

You were having none of that.

"Well, someone better start translating," you warned. You turned to Nico with an accusatory glare, poking a finger into his chest for emphasis. "What are you saying about me when you know I can't understand?"

"Nothing! I'm introducing you!" he raised his hands in defense.

You turned toward Luca for confirmation, knowing he'd have no problem ratting his little brother out. The wicked grin on his face confirmed your suspicion. "As his girlfriend," Luca smirked.

His answer left you confused. You had been introducing each other as boyfriend and girlfriend at all the weddings you had attended—this wasn't new.

In fact, Nico called you his girlfriend when you were first introduced to Luca last night. Had Nico told him your deal? Did his family know this was all fake?

"I told Sunny I was bringing a girlfriend," Nico defended himself, rolling his eyes.

"And she was okay with that?" Luca asked.

"She's getting married, so I think she's fine."

Luca opened his mouth to say something more, but Nico abruptly turned toward you, physically stepping in between you and Luca so you couldn't see him anymore.

"Shall we go find a seat?" he smiled, but his tone was sharp, and you knew it wasn't a suggestion.

He extended his elbow for you to link your arm through as he guided you down the aisle to find a row that still had room for you to sit. With your arm looped through Nico's, you grabbed his bicep and squeezed it to get his attention.

"Why wouldn't the bride be okay with you bringing a girlfriend?" you harshly whispered.

"Don't worry about it," came his immediate answer.

You recognized this weird avoidance from Nico. It was the same way he got when he recalled the details of his exes when you were reviewing wedding invitations with him. You didn't like how tight that thought made your chest feel.

"This is another wedding from the curse, isn't it?" you asked, half-hoping he would deny your suspicion and put your mind back at ease.

Instead, he ignored your question as you shuffled into the pew behind him. He politely smiled at the older man you two sat next to before you pinched his arm to force him to look at you. You stared at him expectantly, and he let out an annoyed sigh.

"Maybe."

"I can't believe you," you gawked, trying to keep your voice low. "Your sister's best friend? You're a dog, Nico."

He scoffed, shoving your hand away. "We hooked up a few times, but we were teenagers. It wasn't serious."

"Wasn't serious for you, or wasn't serious for her?" you challenged. Nico opened his mouth to say something before closing it a moment later, rethinking his words. "I can't believe you," you gaped.

"Why are you getting jealous?" He winked as he said it.

You tried to ignore the somersault your stomach did at the playful spark in his brown eyes. You rolled your eyes, but the snarky comeback died on your tongue as the organ music started and the wedding party began their procession.

That night, you learned that the Hischier family loved shots. You had witnessed this firsthand with Nico at your previous weddings, but his siblings were even worse. Whenever you tried to sneak away, Nina or Luca would find you and pull you back in.

Needless to say, you were feeling no pain by the end of the night. Nico, who was in just as messy of a state, offered to call a car to take you two home when he found you hiding at a reception table. You thanked him profusely before excusing yourself to use the bathroom as he let you know he'd be waiting for you out front.

When you came out of the stall, Sunny was at the bathroom counter. She was leaning over the sink in her white strapless mini dress, which she had changed into for the reception. It was one of three different dresses Sunny had worn throughout the day, but it looked every bit as expensive as the previous two. She was reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror, her eyes briefly glancing over to look at you in the reflection.

"You look beautiful," you said, smiling at her in the mirror as you washed your hands.

You had yet to be properly introduced to Sunny, but it was an unwritten rule that if you saw another girl in the bathroom, you always complimented each other. It was all part of being a girl's girl.

She gave you a brief smile before putting the cap back on her lip gloss. She turned to face you, her hip leaning against the counter as she crossed her arms over her chest.

You could feel her eyes raking over you as if she were studying you or trying to place who you were. You quickly felt uneasy under her gaze as her expression seemed to change into an emotion your intoxicated brain didn't recognize.

"You're Nico's new girlfriend, aren't you?" she asked, her eyes narrowed as she said his name.

"Yep," you chuckled, trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood.

You introduced yourself by name, but she didn't seem interested. She rolled her eyes as you spoke. It wasn't a playful eye roll either, as if to tell you she already knew who you were, and it was silly to introduce yourself. This felt mean. Everything about this interaction felt malicious—and calculated.

"How long has this," she waved her hand at you for emphasis, "been a thing?"

"Uh—" You froze. Surprisingly, no one had asked how long you and Nico had been together every time you had introduced yourselves. It wasn't a detail you had thought to work out in your fake story. You tried to keep your answer vague, hoping it wouldn't contradict whatever Nico may have said when he told Sunny you were coming to the wedding. "A couple months."

She made a bit of a surprised noise at your answer, sending a bolt of panic through your body. But she didn't call you out on the timeline. Instead, she returned to the mirror to continue touching up her makeup. Sunny didn't bother to look at you as she continued to speak.

"That's a pretty short time to be parading around his ex-girlfriend's wedding already." There was a brief pause before she turned her focus back to you in the mirror, a taunting smile on her face. "Did he tell you that? Before you got here, did he tell you about us?"

You didn't have an answer. Technically, no, Nico hadn't said anything until Luca outed him. He hadn't lied; everything he told you about Sunny was true. He just left out some details.

You also hadn't asked.

Most importantly, he wasn't your boyfriend and didn't owe you his dating history.

Nor would it have made any sort of difference. Nico had asked you to come to this wedding with him because he wanted someone, wanted you, to be here with him.

"I doubt it," she answered for you. "He's never been honest a day in his life."

She aggressively threw the lip gloss tube into the makeup bag on the counter. You flinched at the sound, hoping Sunny hadn't noticed that her little speech was having any sort of effect on you.

Sunny was clearly drunk and ranting. Hearing her ramble off such awful things about Nico was a bit jarring. He was probably the only person you had ever met that everyone always seemed to love. You couldn't recall a single negative thing anyone had ever mentioned about him before. He had his flaws; he was only human, but it didn't feel like he deserved this.

This was supposed to be Sunny's big day. She was now married in the most lavish wedding you had ever witnessed, yet she was venting about a past fling in the bathroom instead. Maybe Luca was on to something when he said the extravagance of the day was really Sunny and Colin overcompensating.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl," Sunny continued. Her mean-girl facade cracked for a moment as she sighed. "Do yourself a favor and spare yourself the heartache. I've been where you are, and it's not worth it."

"Sorry?" you stuttered, unsure you were hearing her right.

"It's not worth it," she repeated. "He'll wine and dine you, he'll be great in bed, and then one day he'll be gone, and he'll gaslight you into thinking you made the whole thing up in your head."

You awkwardly laughed, at a loss for how else to reply. If you and Nico actually were together, a clearly scorned ex-whatever would be the last person you would be taking relationship advice from.

"I'm trying to be nice and offer you advice here," she snapped when you didn't reply. "He's probably pulling all the same moves on you that he once used on me. I know exactly how it ends."

"I appreciate it," you finally spoke up, offering her a small smile to try and ease the tension. "I've got my head on straight, though. I know what I'm doing."

"Right," Sunny scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Good luck, babe."

Sunny's mocking laughter was ringing in your ears as you excused yourself from the bathroom. You hoped Nico wouldn't see the unease on your face as you headed toward the exit where he had promised you he'd be waiting.

But all that melted away when you saw him leaning against one of the large pillars outside the front entrance. He had a vase of flowers in his hands, and as you approached, he held them out toward you with a goofy, dimpled grin.

"These are for you," he smiled even wider, sending a whole new wave of butterflies into flight in your stomach.

You took the flowers, immediately recognizing the square crystal vase as one of the centerpieces from the reception tables. "Did you steal these?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

Nico waved you off, placing his arm around your shoulder to lead you toward the waiting car. "It doesn't matter how I got them; I got them for you."

Tucked into Nico's side, you used the chill of the night air as an excuse to cuddle up closer to him. His hand rubbed absentmindedly up and down your bicep to keep you warm as you descended the front steps of the venue.

In the backseat of the Uber, you made no attempt to move away, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to hold you close. Letting your eyes fall shut, all you could focus on was the woodsy smell of his cologne and how large and overwhelming his warm hand felt against your cool skin.

It probably wasn't what Sunny meant with her rant, but all you took away was that she was confirming your drunken suspicion that Nico was great in bed.

Back at Sunny and Colin's apartment, you placed your stolen wedding favor on the coffee table where the couple would find it tomorrow. The flowers were a sweet gesture from Nico, but there was no way they were going to fit into your carry-on luggage and make it back to New Jersey in one piece.

When you joined him in the kitchen, Nico offered you a glass of water. You took the glass from his outstretched hand and placed it on the counter to free your hands so you could finally take your shoes off. You moaned as you stepped out of your heels, relishing the feeling of your aching feet now resting flat on the floor.

Nico choked on his water at the sound, coughing as you looked up at him.

"You good?" you asked, unable to hide your giggle.

He didn't say anything; he just nodded his head in response.

You waited for a moment to see if he would speak up, but he stayed silent. You maintained eye contact, watching him as he raked his fingers through his hair to push it out of his face, only to fall right back across his forehead when he moved his hand away.

You shrugged at his silence, reaching for the glass of water Nico had poured for you. "Your family's nice," you offered, tapping your nails against the cup as you waited for Nico to say something.

"Yeah," he agreed. His one-word answer made you roll your eyes, something Nico missed as he turned his back to you to shrug off his suit jacket and place it on the kitchen counter. "Luca loved you."

"Does that mean I get to date your brother when this is done?" you asked, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

You didn't miss how Nico's shoulders tensed underneath his white dress shirt at your joke.

"No."

"I think that's up to him," you continued to taunt, "not you."

"No," he repeated, roughly pulling on his tie until it came loose and tossing it onto the counter as well. "Not going to happen."

"Why are you getting jealous?" you teased, mocking his reply earlier at the church.

But Nico didn't laugh. When he turned back around to face you, he looked serious. Nico didn't say anything, but his body language screamed yes. He was jealous simply at the mention of the joke.

That took the wind right out of the conversation.

Maybe he wasn't necessarily jealous of you; perhaps it was the idea of losing out to his older brother in competition. Siblings tended to be competitive like that. There was no reason for him to be feeling this way about you. You barely knew each other, and you weren't together.

You weighed your options for a moment. Tonight had been fun, but it wasn't serious. You could make the first move, kiss Nico, and get whatever tension was brewing between you all day out of your system. It was low-stakes and no strings attached.

"I'm going to head to bed," he eventually said, "I'll see you in the morning." He placed his empty cup in the kitchen sink before walking past you toward the hallway to the bedrooms.

When would you ever have this opportunity again?

So, without putting much thought into it or allowing yourself the opportunity to psych yourself out of it, you spun around to grab Nico's wrist to pull him back toward you. As he stumbled back into you, you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

It was short and innocent, so quick that you almost thought maybe you had imagined it, but then Nico was leaning down and kissing you again, harder this time. You had been thinking about this since first seeing him that morning. You wanted to savor the moment.

He pulled away ever so slightly, looking down at you to check in and gauge how you were feeling. Your hands came up to rest on either side of his neck, thumb tracing along the edge of his jaw. You could feel his racing heartbeat, letting you know he had also been waiting for this moment.

He leaned down to close the gap again, this time with the hunger of a man starved. With one hand resting on his jaw and the other clutching onto the front of his shirt, you desperately pulled him in as close to you as possible.

Your fingers came up to intertwine in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling a low groan from him. You took the opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips, and his hands slid to the small of your back, pressing you harder into him.

So caught up in everything a first kiss should be, you didn't even notice the world around you. All that existed to you was the delicious scratch of Nico's beard against your chin and the sensation of his fingertips skimming dangerously low across your back, holding you flush against his chest. Every part of your skin that he touched felt like it was perfectly on fire.

You stumbled over your feet as Nico began to walk you backward until you hit the kitchen counter. He brought his hand up to rest on the back of your neck, dipping your head back as he deepened the kiss. He didn't break the kiss as he grabbed you by the waist and effortlessly hoisted you up to sit on the counter so you were now eye-level with him.

You parted your legs so he could step between them, his hands squeezing at your hips, before he hastily pulled you forward until you were completely pressed against him again.

You eventually pulled away to catch your breath, resting your forehead against Nico's. You stayed like that for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly as he tried to catch his own breath. He made no motion to pull away, brushing his nose against yours delicately as your fingers toyed with the thin gold chain around his neck.

You shivered as his hands ghosted up the outside of your thighs, pushing your dress up with them until the silk fabric bunched up at your waist. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning as his fingers continued to trace patterns along your inner thigh.

As you let your head fall back with a sigh, Nico took that as his invitation to leave a trail of kisses along your jawline until he reached your neck. He licked a stripe over your pulse point before gently biting down on the skin as your eyes rolled back. You were complete putty under his touch.

You opened your legs wider, offering him better access as his fingers continued to inch their way up your thigh. You felt him smile into the kiss on your neck as you whimpered his name.

His hands were moving agonizingly slow as if he was enjoying torturing you. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers finally hook under the fabric of your panties and push them to the side. Before Nico could actually touch you, the distinct sound of glass shattering had the two of you jumping apart.

You both turned toward the source of the noise, finding Sunny's oversized dog, Bear, standing by the coffee table. His wagging tail was at the perfect height to have knocked the crystal vase you had set on the table clean off onto the hardwood floor. Nico cursed as he jumped into action, stepping over the broken glass in the living room to pick up Bear and place him on the couch before he stepped on anything.

You pushed yourself to the edge of the counter, adjusting your dress so you could stand up when Nico stopped you. "Don't move. There's broken glass everywhere, Schatz," he warned. "Let me clean this up before you hurt yourself."

You nodded wordlessly, watching Nico disappear down the hallway momentarily before returning with a broom. You couldn't help but smile as you listened to him say something to Bear in Swiss German, earning a bark from the dog in confirmation. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips as you watched Nico sweep up the mess on the floor, you felt dizzy.

The German pet name was new. It was something he had called you in passing at a few of the weddings but never in private when you didn't have an audience. You didn't quite know what to make of it or what any of this meant, but it had slipped off his tongue so naturally.

And he had kissed you like that.

You were sure that was the kind of kiss you would think about for the rest of your life.

Sunny's words weighed heavily in the back of your mind, though. She had warned you that it wasn't worth it.

You needed to remind yourself that it wasn't.

When the summer was over, the curse would be lifted, and you could go on and find your soulmate. Someone who would hopefully send sparks and butterflies coursing through your veins from just a kiss, like Nico had managed to do.

This interruption was probably for the best.

You were getting dangerously close to crossing a line you couldn't return from. You two still had two weddings to go, including Liam's, which was the main reason you were even in this situation. You couldn't throw it all away now because you were drunk and horny. You needed to be smarter than that—you were smarter than that.

So when Nico extended his hand to help you climb down from the counter once the mess had been cleaned, you politely thanked him before making your way down the hall to the guest bedroom. Once alone, you let out the breath you hadn't realized you had been holding.

Resting your back against the closed door, you could still feel Nico's hands all over you. It was taking everything in you not to double back down the hallway to Nico's room, desperate to pick up where you had left off.

You locked the bedroom door with shaky hands, trying to quiet the temptation.

Tomorrow was a new day, and you'd both move on. You were adults, and things like this happened all the time.

Everything was going to be fine.

hope you find somewhere safe for your baggage

After London, something about your relationship with Nico shifted.

You didn't know how to describe it or what exactly it was, but it felt like you were suddenly wading into uncharted territory.

You had kissed Nico. He had kissed you back.

He was also the one who escalated it beyond the innocent peck you had started it with. Then, the next morning, he didn't say anything, and you were too nervous to be the one to bring it up, so you acted like nothing had happened.

That had been a month ago, and too much time had passed to bring it up now.

There had been a four-week break in your wedding schedule, and you had yet to see Nico in person since the morning after in Sunny's kitchen. He had texted you nearly every day throughout those four weeks, though. Sometimes it was a quick text to check in or a photo of the dog someone brought to his off-season workout session. Occasionally, he'd ask how you felt about Liam's upcoming wedding, ensuring you were still on for your trip to Paris.

It was a new routine that you didn't even notice starting. Nor did you remember what life was like a few months ago without these daily check-ins from Nico.

You had told him you were feeling fine, but during the entire flight from Newark to Paris, you thought you were going to be sick with anxiety. The fear of facing your ex-boyfriend and the cousin he had left you for was now a reality. When your plane finally touched down, you had a very real moment where you contemplated bolting.

Scanning the board of connecting flights and looking for the best place to escape, your eyes landed on Monaco. There was a flight leaving almost every hour to Nice. A 90-minute flight and then a quick 20-minute train ride, and you'd be in Monte Carlo. Maybe you'd find a billionaire who would let you live on his yacht forever, and you'd never have to face the consequences of your actions ever again.

You could ignore everything going wrong and run away from your problems permanently.

You weren't sure if you could do this, something you had confessed to Nico the moment he met you at the baggage claim. He was wearing gray sweatpants, a Team Switzerland hoodie, and a backward Yankees hat—a signature travel outfit. He smiled as he watched you come down the escalator. He looked cozy, ready to cuddle up and keep you warm. Nico was a boyfriend straight out of a Hallmark movie, but even that couldn't calm down your frayed nerves.

As you got closer, his dimpled smile faltered when he saw the distress on your face. He could tell you were spiraling the second he laid eyes on you.

You were so freaked out over having to see Liam again and maybe a little anxious about facing Nico after what had happened in Sunny's kitchen that you were on the verge of hyperventilating. He placed a firm hand on both of your shoulders to bring you back to Earth.

"Schatz," he spoke slowly, trying to get you to focus on him despite the crowd continuing to fuss around you. "What's going on?"

For some reason, having him ask how you were doing was all you needed to fall apart. Your eyes immediately welled up with tears as you frantically shook your head. "I can't do this," you cried out. "I don't want to do this."

Without uttering another word, Nico pulled you into a hug. As he cradled the back of your head against his chest and soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your back, you rambled out every doubt and insecurity that you had been mulling over throughout the flight.

You had traveled this far, and you both realistically knew you couldn't back out now. But he patiently listened to your rant about not being ready to go before he placed a kiss on the top of your head, grabbed your bags, and told you to follow him.

"It's going to be fine," he had promised as you made your way to the taxi stand. "This is nothing coffee and a pastry can't fix."

His words were firm, and you felt you had no choice but to believe him. So you carried on as usual, pretending to ignore the very obvious elephant that had existed between you and Nico since that night in London, which you both were going to continue to not talk about.

Nico could tell you were uneasy about it all. So he tried his best to fix it. He wanted to try and find a way to make this trip feel a little less heavy, to help you enjoy the time with him in Paris before you had to face the reality of watching your ex-boyfriend walk down the aisle of the wedding you had planned.

Nico had strategically planned a busy day to keep your mind occupied. Too much downtime left the possibility of your mind wandering and you sulking, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. So he took you sightseeing across the city, hitting as many tourist traps as possible to compensate for your two's limited time.

You really only had one day to go sightseeing before Clara and Liam's wedding on Saturday afternoon. Then, you were flying to meet Gianna in Italy Sunday night while Nico returned to Switzerland.

It could be just the air of romance that Paris, the City of Love, has, but everything about the day felt overwhelmingly lovey-dovey. He was probably doing it because he had seen you fall apart in the airport that morning. Still, Nico held your hand tightly as you weaved through crowds, held every door open, and pulled out your chair for you at every cafe you stopped in along the way.

For a fleeting moment, with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he stood behind you, you could forget about the real reason you were in France, distracted by Nico whispering dirty jokes about every painting into your ear—much to the dismay of the other guest on your guided tour of the Louvre. In that second of normalcy, you were two lovers friends on the vacation of a lifetime.

With your day winding down, you two returned to your hotel to see if your room was finally ready to check in. For some reason, Nico was suddenly in a hurry, as if he now had somewhere he needed to be.

He'd checked his watch about a dozen times throughout the brief elevator ride up to the sixth floor of this lavish Paris hotel. He rechecked the time as he fumbled with the key card for your room, cursing under his breath when the automatic lock didn't immediately recognize the card.

The key eventually scanned, and he pushed the door open so quickly, it slammed against the wall behind it. You flinched at the noise, worried about a noise complaint from the nearly silent floor. Nico pulled your suitcases into the room before wrapping his hand around your wrist and blindly pulling you through the dark hotel room toward the balcony door.

"Come on," he urged, dissatisfied with the speed you were following him.

With the sun finally tucked away behind the horizon and Nico refusing to turn a lamp or a light switch on in his haste, he fumbled with the lock on the balcony door in the dark of the hotel room. Standing behind him, you reached over his shoulder toward the light switch on the wall that you assumed would bring some sort of light into this pitch-black room. But as your hand reached for the switch, you were scolded with a quick but efficient "No!"

Your arm froze mid-reach, an annoyed sigh falling from your lips.

"You can be mad at me in a second," Nico remarked, acknowledging the intent behind your groans, "but I promise this will be worth it."

As if on cue, the lock finally clicked, and he pushed open the double doors to the balcony, revealing a small stone terrace. He reached back to grab your hand again, pulling you out onto the terrace. All that greeted you was two small lounge chairs and a wrought iron cafe table.

You weren't sure what about this was supposed to be so worth it unless the hotel had lied about the listing photos. But Nico was beaming, antsy with joy as if he were a little kid on Christmas morning. You followed Nico's gaze up toward the skyline, hoping that might help clue you in on what you were supposed to be so thrilled about.

You tried to match Nico's level of enthusiasm, not wanting to crush his spirit and risk starting a fight when you felt your dynamic was already awkward, but it was a bit underwhelming if you were being honest. This balcony offered an unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower, but it was dark, and there were no lights on at the tower, making it nearly impossible to see. Plus, you had already been there this morning when the sun was still up and taken more than enough photos.

This was just a worse view of a landmark you had already visited.

Furrowing your brows, unsure what you were supposed to find so exciting about this, you glanced over at Nico. There was a massive grin on his face as he looked back at you, that smug smile letting you know he was very proud of himself.

Maybe it'd be a better view in the morning when the sun came up.

"Nico," you said carefully, "we were just at the Eiffel Tower."

"Just wait," he pleaded, looking down at the watch on his wrist one more time as he bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. "It should be any second… now."

You looked up as the Eiffel Tower came to life, the iconic French landmark lit up in golden sparkling lights. Your jaw dropped at the sight, mesmerized as the lights continued to flicker and twinkle across the tower.

It was breathtaking. You couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the view, only blindly reaching out to grab Nico's bicep beside you and give it a dramatic squeeze to show your appreciation.

It was beautiful, but his eyes stayed firmly on you.

This was far from Nico's first trip to Paris. Growing up only a short train ride away in Switzerland, he had already done all of the touristy things France had to offer. And he enjoyed it all, but it was nothing compared to experiencing the joy of traveling through your eyes for the first time. All he wanted to do was watch how excited you were finally visiting the places you had only ever dreamed of.

"I hope this makes everything else feel a bit more worth it," he finally spoke, keeping his voice low so he didn't disturb the moment. The twinkling view wasn't much, but it was all he could think to come up with on such a limited schedule.

"It's perfect," you answered without hesitation. You briefly pulled your eyes away from the tower to glance at Nico, giving his arm another squeeze. "This whole thing is… perfect. Remind me how you're single again?"

You didn't notice Nico wince as you said it.

The twinkling light show eventually ended a few minutes later, but Nico assured you they did it at the top of every hour so you could see it again. As you eventually made your way off the terrace and back into your hotel room, you flicked on the lamp closest to the balcony door. The grand hotel room Nico had insisted you stumble blindly through finally came to life under the glow of the warm light.

As the room came into focus, you stuttered to a stop. Nico crashed into your back at the unexpected standstill, his hands coming up to grab your waist and steady you before you could tip over. He made no motion to move, holding you firmly against him as his eyes scanned the room, too.

The spacious room looked every bit as luxurious as the lobby and the balcony view had implied. It was decorated with expensive art on the walls and antique furniture that felt authentically Parisian. You knew it must have come at an outrageous price, especially given how last minute Nico had booked it. Right in the middle of the extravagant suite was a bed piled high with decorative throw pillows that looked like they were all hand-sewn.

The only problem was that it was the only bed.

The rest of the room had an antique wooden desk, a massive wardrobe, and a matching set of bedside tables. Despite having more than enough space for one, there wasn't a second bed or even a pullout sofa anywhere in sight.

In the middle of the bed was an ice bucket filled with what looked to be a bottle of champagne next to a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. Ruby-red rose petals outlined the alcohol and sweet treats, laid out perfectly like a heart across the white duvet.

"Oh," came Nico's voice as you stared at the single bed—that couldn't have been larger than a Queen size at best. "I get it now."

"You get what now?" you challenged, brow arched as you glanced over your shoulder to eye him skeptically.

"La lune de miel," he answered as if that was supposed to be evident to you.

You tried to ignore the rush of heat that went right between your legs at his basic use of French. Despite the reprieve of the air-conditioned hotel room, you must have still been flushed from the summer heatwave outside.

"The receptionist kept saying it, but I didn't know what it meant," he explained.

You took a few cautious steps out of Nico's grasp, picking up one of the rose petals off the bed. You were pleasantly surprised to discover it was a real flower petal. This hotel clearly spared no expense for the surprise welcome gift. It was then you noticed a small white card on the tray of chocolate desserts. Your eyes scanned over the handwritten 'Félicitations' note on the front as you listened to Nico's voice continue to drone on in the background.

"I knew it was something about a moon," Nico continued, "but I thought maybe she meant, like, it was only available for one night or whatever. It was the only room they had available, so I said yes," he rambled, a scarlet blush creeping up his neck as he refused to look at you.

"Nico," you managed to get out between giggles as you let the rose petals fall back onto the perfectly made bed. You watched him breathe a visible sigh of relief as he heard your sweet laugh, confirming you weren't upset. "Are we in the honeymoon suite?"

He wandered over to the ice bucket delicately balanced at the foot of the bed. He pulled the chilled bottle of champagne out of the bucket, smirking as he read over the expensive label. "I think we are, Mrs. Hischier."

It didn't take long for the two of you to finish the complimentary champagne. With the inevitable jetlag beginning to set in, the alcohol was hitting harder than expected. You had made yourself comfortable, your back against the headboard and your feet resting in Nico's lap as he lay across the foot of the bed. He absentmindedly massaged your ankles as you talked, catching up on all you had missed in the weeks since Sunny's wedding.

"How long were you and Liam together?" Nico eventually asked, unable to help himself from prying.

He had been wondering since he had found you broken-hearted in the grocery store. Still, you had been tight-lipped about any actual details about your most recent ex.

"About a year," you admitted, eyes focused on his hands as they soothed the aches in your ankle from all the walking you had done that day. He removed one hand to grab his champagne glass from where it was resting on the floor beside the bed, finishing off the final few sips in the glass. "It wasn't that long, but we moved pretty fast, so it felt serious. To me, at least. I thought he was the one because he told me he was."

Nico frowned as he listened. He hated hearing how dejected your voice sounded as you recalled the end of your relationship with Liam.

"Then he dumped me in a text message, and now he's marrying my cousin."

Nico choked on his mouthful of champagne, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he stared at you in disbelief. Coughing to catch his breath, he placed the empty glass on the floor before propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Your cousin?" he repeated in disbelief. "Fuck that. Why are we going to this wedding?"

"Because it's my cousin," you emphasized. "I wanted to skip it, but my mom called me and politely told me it wasn't optional. Something about Clara and I practically being sisters growing up, and it would mean a lot to her if I were here or whatever."

Nico couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. When you had asked him to accompany you to your ex-boyfriend's wedding, as sad as you were about the whole ordeal, he had assumed that meant you had ended on good terms or were at least still friends in some way. He wasn't expecting him to have left you for your cousin.

"And then Liam texted me saying he's glad we can be mature about this," you laughed. "So now I look like the bad guy if I don't go."

Nico was at a loss for words, shaking his head in disbelief as he tried to process everything you had said. "That's insane," was all he managed to come up with.

"That's really rich coming from the guy who slept with his sister's best friend."

You felt him tense up despite trying to force out a small laugh and pretend your words didn't bother him. You instantly regretted your attempt at a joke. Maybe you weren't supposed to mention Sunny or anything related to that night in London.

"I didn't just sleep with her," he eventually said. "You're making it sound worse than it was."

You contemplated telling him about your run-in with Sunny in the bathroom that night. You could tell him how you weren't the one making it sound bad; Sunny was doing enough of that all on her own. Apparently, there were a lot of things about that night in London that you two needed to talk about.

But that felt too messy. As much as you loved a little gossip, these were real people with real feelings involved here.

Nico let out a sigh, collapsing back onto the bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling. It would be easier to be honest with you if he didn't have to look directly at you or feel you judge him for his past mistakes. Nico wanted to be honest, though. He figured whatever you were imagining had happened was worse than the truth. He didn't want you to think that poorly of him. Not just for the sake of clearing his name—Nico cared what you thought of him.

"We dated for a bit when we were teenagers," he clarified. "But we broke up right after I got drafted. Everything felt crazy and so far out of my control—I thought I was doing the right thing by not dragging her into the circus my life was becoming. There was so much distance, and I was solely focused on hockey. I wasn't going to be a very good boyfriend."

"That makes sense," you whispered. You watched as Nico chewed on his bottom lip, brown eyes still focused on anything other than you. "It sucks, but I get it. You thought you were doing the right thing."

Nico let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "She didn't see it that way. Kept saying it was a cop-out to tell her I loved her and that's why I was leaving her."

You weren't sure why, but the admission that Nico had been in love with her made your chest hurt.

Suddenly, Sunny's bathroom rant made a lot more sense. You'd probably feel the same way if it had been you. Not that she'd ever understand, but you knew Nico was just trying to do the right thing, as awful as it was. He willingly accepted the role of the villain in that story, all to spare her from the worse fate of what their relationship surely would have spiraled into.

You wanted to reach out and grab his hand and give him a reassuring squeeze as you told him it was okay and he did the right thing. As long ago as it was, it was apparent he still felt guilt over the failed relationship.

Instead, you kept your hands firmly placed in your lap, picking at a loose string on the hem of your t-shirt.

"She's probably over it by now," you lied, deciding to keep the memory of Sunny's bitter rant to yourself. "She's off on her honeymoon while you're stuck here about to go to my ex's wedding."

"Lucky us," he mumbled.

"That's the curse, Neeks," you shrugged, removing your feet from his lap. You brought your knees to your chest, allowing Nico to sit up.

"Gianna hates it whenever I say that," he said, rolling his eyes as he mentally recalled all the times she would groan and scold him about being dramatic. "But what else could there be?"

"I get it," you sighed, letting your head fall back against the headboard as you shut your eyes. Without looking at Nico, you felt more confident in voicing your thoughts. It was suddenly less scary to be vulnerable and open up to someone. The complimentary champagne definitely helped, too. "She rolls her eyes whenever I say something, always quick to tell me there can't possibly be a curse. But I think it's easier to blame something else than accept that it's me that no one can seem to love long-term."

"Schatz, I—" he sighed as if struggling to find the words he wanted to say.

You couldn't stop yourself from yawning, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. "I think we need sleep," you mumbled between another series of yawns.

"Yeah," Nico agreed. "Probably a good call."

He hesitated for a moment, watching you slip under the covers before he reached to grab one of the pillows off the bed.

"Where are you going?" you asked, brow furrowed in confusion as he picked up the decorative throw blanket draped across the end of the bed.

"To sleep?" he answered, head cocked to the side in confusion—as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Where? On the floor?" you waved your hand for emphasis, in case he hadn't realized this honeymoon suite only had one bed.

"No, there's a couple chairs on the balcony, I could—"

"You can sleep in the bed, Nico," you mumbled into the pillow, eyes already closed.

You heard him sigh before you felt the mattress dip, letting you know he had climbed into bed.

"Schatz," you heard him whisper just before you could pass out, "please don't ever think it's you."

The following morning, you woke up initially feeling well rested—ready to face whatever this day would throw at you. It took a moment for your still-asleep brain to catch up and recognize where you were.

You didn't remember falling asleep this close, but with the air conditioning cranked as high as it could go, you had gravitated toward Nico for warmth in the middle of the night. And he had graciously let you cuddle into his side, limbs intertwined as he snored softly into the pillow beside you. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck, one of your legs thrown over his hips. Nico's firm hand on the back of your thigh kept you close.

You knew you shouldn't, but he was still fast asleep, so you stayed like that for a moment, fighting to silence that tiny voice in the back of your head that wanted to snuggle in deeper. He was so close you could easily lean over to kiss him. You could pick up right where you had been abruptly stopped in London.

Instead, you remained frozen, hoping he wouldn't wake up and that you could stay like this a little bit longer. You were enjoying the feeling of his fingers resting on the bare skin of your thigh, left exposed by your sleep shorts, far too much to move right away.

You tried to ignore the way your entire body tingled as his fingers subconsciously twitched in his sleep, his grip tightening against your thigh. Deep down, you knew this wasn't a good idea. You adored Nico, but you were just friends. You weren't supposed to be anything more than that.

You two were together for a reason: to break up and find other people. You weren't supposed to actually be together. With your combined terrible luck with love, this would never actually work out.

Nico didn't stir when you finally slipped out of his grip, quietly replacing your previous spot with one of the overwhelming number of pillows stacked on the bed. By the time you emerged from the bathroom, now dressed and ready for the day, Nico was awake, propped up against the wall of pillows as he scrolled on his phone.

He quickly suggested the two of you head out for coffee, desperate for caffeine to wake you up. You had stayed up far too late the night before, finishing the complimentary champagne as you talked into the wee hours of the morning. It felt like you had talked about anything and everything.

And then, in the morning light, you once again pretended nothing happened.

It was almost like you were settling into some sort of routine. As frustrating as it was, everything about Nico also felt oddly comforting.

Like how he let your fingers anxiously fidget with the beaded bracelets on his wrist while he held your hand, seated in the final row in case you needed to make a quick exit. As you watched Clara walk down the aisle to meet Liam, with Nico's hand laced with yours, it felt significantly less devastating than you had thought. It still stung to listen to Liam recite his vows, to hear the man you had thought you would spend forever with promise everything he had once said to you to someone else.

Any time that jealous green monster began to grow, and your chest would feel tight with envy, Nico would give your hand a slight squeeze as if he knew.

It had never felt like anyone really understood you like this before. Nico had been through all the same heartbreaks. He was also navigating the disappointment and frustration of constantly feeling like you were coming up short. Yet, here he was to back you up and support you through what should have been the most emotionally devastating day of your life.

He just got it.

He got you.

crucial evidence i didn't imagine the whole thing

You were spending the two weeks before Gianna and Nate's wedding at a Tuscan villa on the coast that had the most breathtaking ocean view from the garden terrace. You had said goodbye to Nico and flown from Paris to meet Gianna the day after Liam's lackluster wedding. The rest of her small wedding party was there too, helping to sort out all the loose ends before Nate and his groomsmen arrived in a few days.

You hadn't heard much from Nico over the last week. The summer was winding down, and he had some media commitments in Bern he was required to be at, so his check-ins had been a bit more infrequent. You knew he was switching back into captain mode, trying to focus on the pressure of the upcoming seasons for the Devils, so you didn't want to push or come across as needy.

As much as you looked forward to a text or missed call to see how you were doing, Nico didn't realistically owe you anything.

The rest of the bridesmaids had ventured into town to get groceries and supplies for the final bachelorette night, leaving you and Gianna to get everything else set up. With all of your errands out of the way, you were sitting in the back garden and enjoying the late afternoon sun while you waited for the rest of the group to return.

This was the first time you two had had time to talk since you had last seen her for a brief catch-up after the first wedding. When you told her that Nico had agreed to try and break the curse with you, she had cackled over the phone. She checked in after each wedding, but she and Nate had returned to Canada for the off-season in June, so you had not seen her in person since then.

After all the overthinking and mixed emotions the last month had brought you, it was refreshing to just exist with your best friend again.

Gianna briefly excused herself as the doorbell rang, scurrying off to collect whatever wedding delivery had arrived. While you waited, you slipped your phone out of your pocket, frowning at the screen when you found no new notifications. You opened up iMessage, scrolling through until you found the thread with Nico to make sure you hadn't accidentally missed a message. But there was nothing there waiting for you.

When Gianna returned, she was holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. The colorful arrangement was so big you could barely see her behind them. She stopped before you, practically shoving the flowers directly into your face.

"Wow," you laughed, watching her rise onto her tiptoes to peek over the top of the flower arrangement. "Nate's really outdone himself."

"They're for you," she said, shoving the flowers into your hands.

You cautiously took the bouquet from her, unsure what to make of the surprise delivery. Had she ordered flowers for all of the bridesmaids?

"Read the card," she whined. "I want to know who they're from."

With hands you didn't notice were shaking, you picked up the small card that was resting between the twine woven around the base of the bouquet. You glanced at Gianna's wicked grin before rereading the simple note. You had a sneaking suspicion that she knew who the flowers were from before you even opened the card.

Just because. ♥️ Nico

Nervously chewing on your bottom lip, you wordlessly handed the card to Gianna to let her read it for herself.

"Shut the fuck up," she shrieked. She looked back at you from the card a few times as if trying to determine if what she was looking at was real. When she decided this romantic bouquet was actually from Nico, she couldn't figure out why you weren't freaking out. "This is the cutest thing I've ever seen."

She dropped into the seat next to you, handing the card back to you. You placed the bouquet of flowers on the garden table, but you kept the card in your hands. You reread the small note a few more times, trying to wrap your head around it all.

"So," Gianna practically sang, "how's it going with Nico then?"

"Good," you answered vaguely.

"Good," Gianna repeated, but her face looked skeptical. "Curse is lifted?"

"Well, I haven't received any more wedding invites," you rolled your eyes, putting the card down to rest in your lap. "So it hasn't gotten worse, at least."

You could tell from how Gianna's knee was bouncing restlessly that it was taking all her self-control to hold back her interrogation. Nico had sent you just because flowers. She had no idea your relationship was at that point.

You didn't even know your relationship was at that point.

You hadn't heard from him much since Paris. Yes, you knew he was busy, but it didn't make you obsessively check your phone any less. And now he was sending you flowers?

Not just any flowers, either. Nico was sending you flowers just because.

You had told him these were the kinds of flowers and gestures that would make someone fall in love with you. All those months ago, in his kitchen, before all of this began, he had said he would try to remember that.

Did he remember, or was this an unlucky coincidence?

"Come on, I'm dying here," Gianna whined, shaking your knee to try and get you to focus. "Let's cut to the chase. Are you and Nico in love yet?"

You snorted, ignoring Gianna's frown at your response. "That's never going to happen."

You could see how this might confuse Gianna or send a different message. Nico was playing his part well as the doting summer boyfriend. But it was all pretend.

As fake as this all was, you had a sinking feeling that this would only end with you getting hurt—no matter the outcome.

"But the two of you would be perfect for each other," Gianna insisted. "I would die if you and Nico got together."

"What?" you turned to face your best friend, completely disbelieving at her sudden change in opinion. "You're the one who said no when I asked you to set us up!"

"You were asking me to set you up because of your stupid curse," she rolled her eyes as if that were supposed to be obvious to you. "If you had told me you thought he was cute or something, I would have made it happen."

"I can't believe you," you muttered, looking down at Nico's note again.

"You've got to be in it for the right reasons," Gianna explained. "Maybe that's why it's never worked out before. You've been so focused on the possibility of a curse that you never fully commit yourself to anything just to try and dull the heartache when it's over."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you asked, looking up at Gianna, "Trying to protect myself?"

"No, I never said that," she answered carefully. She let out a small sigh before reaching out to gently squeeze your leg. "But if you have one foot out the door the entire time, how do you expect anyone to feel comfortable enough to stay?"

"Oh."

Gianna's words knocked the air out of your lungs. You couldn't argue with her. You had always been so focused on self-preservation, preparing yourself for when everything inevitably ended, that you never stopped to consider that was part of the problem.

You had leaned too far into the idea of a curse and had accidentally made it a reality.

"But I think Nico wants to stay," Gianna laughed softly, glancing at the oversized flower bouquet on the table.

"I kissed him," you blurted out.

"When?! At Liam's wedding?" she gasped, squeezing your hand so hard you were surprised she hadn't broken a bone. "Oh my God, we need more wine."

Before she could fully stand up, you grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the spot next to you. You didn't need glasses of wine or anything else to make it a bigger deal than it already was. It didn't mean anything. The flowers didn't mean anything, either.

"No, it was the wedding before Liam's," you told her. "In London."

Gianna's jaw dropped. If she was upset you hadn't told her sooner, she was focused more on discovering every detail.

"What happened? What did he say?" she demanded.

"He kissed me back."

Gianna raised her eyebrows in anticipation, waiting for more.

"That was it," you shrugged. "We were interrupted before it could go any further."

"Did you want it to go further?" she asked.

"Gianna," you warned.

"What? I just told you I'm Team Nico," she defended, holding her hands up in surrender. "So, what happened after?"

"I already told you nothing happened." Your best friend narrowed her eyes at you, not buying your story. "We never talked about it again."

"Have you said anything?" she asked.

"No. I mean, we were drunk. It was probably just…" You trailed off, shrugging.

"Maybe he hasn't said anything because he thinks you regret it," she reasoned. "He's a good guy. He probably doesn't want to embarrass you."

You gnawed on your lip as you contemplated Gianna's answers. "How do I know for sure?" you asked.

She smiled, nodding her head toward the table. "I think the flowers are a pretty sure sign."

"No, they're—"

The glare Gianna sent you shut you up immediately. "Babe," she warned, "don't even try that."

You sighed, looking down as you traced your fingers over the heart at the end of the note.

You always thought you liked getting flowers, but you had never really received them without having to ask. These just because flowers were something you had always dreamed of but had only ever witnessed other people getting. And yet here was someone sending you flowers because he was thinking of you.

Someone willing to and wanting to do what you deserve.

"We've become friends through this whole thing," you admitted. "It makes it complicated."

"You're friends?" Gianna repeated skeptically.

You nodded your head in confirmation. "We've spent so much time together over the last few months. It was bound to happen."

"You like him," Gianna deadpanned. "And the sooner you admit that to yourself, the sooner you can tell Nico that."

"I don't know," you admitted. "I'm not saying I don't like him. I just don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now."

Truthfully, you didn't know how you felt. Two weeks ago, you were crying on an airplane about your ex-boyfriend and then seething with jealousy when you watched him marry someone else. If you had feelings for Nico, you wouldn't still have been thinking of Liam, right?

It had been so long since you had felt this way or had feelings toward someone in a healthy relationship that you almost didn't remember what it felt like. When the fairytale feeling from all these weddings wore off, you would be able to think more clearly.

"Do I get to tell you 'I told you so' when you finally realize it?" Gianna teased, pulling you from your thoughts.

You rolled your eyes, putting the card on the table next to the flowers so you would stop obsessively looking at it. "I'll talk to him after the wedding," you said.

"Why wait?" Gianna asked, dramatically shaking your knee to emphasize her point. "Call him now!"

"No, I'd rather do it in person," you shook your head. "And it's your big day. I don't want to ruin anything or make it awkward."

"Can I be blunt?"

You dramatically rolled your eyes at her question. "Have you ever felt the need to ask before?"

She ignored your sarcastic response. That was how you knew Gianna was serious about this.

"Don't worry about ruining my day, stealing our thunder, or whatever other excuse is rattling around in your head right now," she said. "The only person you're ruining this for is yourself."

"I'll think about it," you agreed with a sigh. You knew you wouldn't say anything at the wedding, but if you agreed, it could hold Gianna over for now.

You probably weren't going to say anything, at least.

You would wait until these weddings were over and you were back in New Jersey and see how you felt then. You wouldn't rush it. You didn't even know if Nico felt the same way, and there was no point in stressing over it until then.

Gianna grabbed her coffee mug from the table, where it was resting next to Nico's flowers. Settling back into her seat, she brought the cup to her lips as the two of you stared in silence at the bouquet. She did her best to try to hide her giggle behind the rim of her cup, but the attempt was futile.

"What are you laughing about now?" you asked, watching her skeptically out of the corner of your eye.

"I'm just thinking about how cute we'll look in our matching WAG jackets next season."

you're standing face to face with "i told you so"

Watching Nate and Gianna tearfully exchange their vows, it hit you.

Gianna's elaborate planning had paid off, and their sunset ceremony at a breathtaking winery in the Tuscan countryside was the epitome of romance. You were overjoyed for your best friend and honored to stand beside her as her maid of honor. Yet as you watched Nate wipe another tear away, you felt that familiar green monster pressing on your chest.

You were jealous.

You had felt this way in Paris, too. At the time, you had thought you were seething with jealousy over Liam finding his forever with someone else. Now, you realize it wasn't the person you longed for; it was the love.

When you thought of Liam and Clara's wedding, there was no more sadness or heartache. All that remained was pure, green envy. And not over Liam—envy for the happily ever after.

You wanted to shout from the rooftops and celebrate your love in front of everyone you knew.

You wanted this, all of this.

With Nico.

You felt dizzy at the revelation.

You had thought you liked him, but this felt like something entirely different. This felt like the person you wanted with you forever.

You wanted the person you didn't have to beg to love you back—the one who showed up no matter what, who loved you in the way you needed to be shown love.

The one who loved you just because.

You could feel the back of your neck sweating, your heart racing at the realization. It was such an adrenaline rush you thought you might pass out.

When the ceremony was over, you rushed through the crowd of guests to find Nico. You didn't know what you would do; you just knew you needed to see him. When you found him in the crowd, he was chatting with a few of his teammates. He was wearing that same black suit you had swooned over in London, but, as most guests had done in the heat, he had shed the suit jacket and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up.

He looked deep in conversation, and you didn't want to interrupt. As if he felt your eyes on him, he looked up to find you across the courtyard. The corner of his mouth curved into a smile when he saw you. He excused himself from the conversation, making his way over to you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.

"Hi," you whispered when he finally reached you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he greeted you. "You okay?" he whispered as he pulled away slightly to look down at you.

"Yeah," you smiled, nodding your head for emphasis. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, tracing along his silk tie. "Never better," you promised.

His smile grew even wider, showing off his dimples that never failed to make your stomach flip. You relaxed in his arms; the dull flutter of the butterflies in your chest felt oddly comforting. Everything about this felt precisely that—comfortable.

He smiled like he knew what your coy answer really meant.

Did he know? Did you just hope he knew, or did you blurt it out and tell him?

Before you could say anything more, another bridesmaid pulled you from his arms. She muttered something about being late before you were whisked away for photos with the rest of the wedding party.

While the guests were sent to a cocktail hour before the reception began, the photographer wanted to take advantage of the golden hour sun before it set too low in the sky. As the photos wrapped up, you noticed Nico lingering near the courtyard gate, waiting for you to finish. The second the photographer said you could go, you made a beeline toward him.

If Gianna or Nate had commented about the two of you, it went unnoticed as the rest of the wedding party passed the two of you. So wrapped up in each other, you barely registered the rest of the group passing by to make the short walk from the courtyard to the vineyard where the reception would be.

"We should probably get to the reception," you said as you noticed you were the only two left.

"We can be late," he shrugged, eyes still firmly on you. A playful smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he wound his hands around your waist again, pulling you into him. "We'll make a grand entrance."

As much as you wanted to stay there wrapped up with Nico, you had spent six months planning all the details of Gianna and Nate's reception. You didn't want to miss their big entrance or first dance—or see Nate embarrass himself with the thank you speech you had overheard him practicing last night.

It was a quick walk to the reception. Still, it involved an uneven cobblestone path you had been nervous about twisting an ankle on before the ceremony when you weren't in a rush.

"I can't walk very fast in these shoes," you told Nico, earning a small laugh from him. "If we don't leave now, we might miss the party entirely."

He seemed unphased by your excuse as he clasped his hands behind your back. "That's fine. I'll carry you."

"I can walk," you insisted, giving him a slight shove as you rolled your eyes. You could only imagine the comments from Gianna and Nate that would be waiting for the two of you when you finally arrived. The last thing you wanted to do was add fuel to the fire by showing up literally in Nico's arms.

He laughed at your protest but let you step back anyway, lacing his hand with yours. You held on to his hand tightly to help you balance as you navigated the uneven stones.

He offered to carry you a few more times throughout the walk. He was worried you were going to fall or break an ankle and couldn't understand why you wouldn't take off your shoes or let him carry you the rest of the way.

"Please," Nico begged again, grabbing your elbow to steady you as the stone you stepped on wobbled, "let me just—"

His plea was cut off by the stone slipping out of its spot on the path, sending you off balance and tumbling into Nico's chest. He caught you easily, hands coming to your waist to steady you as your hands landed on his broad chest. You could feel his heartbeat racing through the thin material of his shirt, refusing to look up at him. If you looked up, standing this close, his hands held firmly on your hips, you were going to kiss him.

And it felt like he was thinking the same thing, his grip on your waist tightening.

Looking down at you with his doe eyes, the distant noise of the wedding waiting for you two seemed to fade away. Nico's pupils were so blown out that his dark eyes practically looked black in the fading evening sunlight. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, dampening the flushed pink skin. He never looked away, making no motion to break the intense eye contact.

How were you expected to not fall for him when he looked at you like that?

You could easily drop your hands from where they rested on his chest and walk away. He wouldn't stop you if you tried. But you remained rooted where you stood, fingers slowly curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him ever so closer.

"Nico," you whispered, eyes focused on your hands as they held onto him.

"Yeah, Schatz?"

There was that nickname again when no one else was around. Were you really about to do this? Once you opened your mouth, there was no turning back.

You briefly closed your eyes, trying to muster up all the courage you could before backing down.

"I love you."

Your confession was met with silence.

Opening your eyes, you reluctantly looked up at Nico. He was still smiling down at you, but now you were second-guessing everything. Had you been misinterpreting his kindness for romance? Maybe all of these smiles you had thought meant he felt the same way were actually him pitying you.

You took a step backward to separate yourself from Nico. He let his hands fall as he watched you take a few more wobbly steps backward to distance yourself.

"I'm in love with you," you repeated, letting out a shaky breath. "And not just in some phony way to break this dumb curse. I'm actually head over heels, can't-think-straight kind of in love. Like, if we were in high school, I'd probably be drawing your name with hearts all over my notebooks, daydreaming in class."

Nico opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"I need to finish this," you pleaded. "Before I lose my nerve or you break my heart, I need to get this all out, okay?"

He nodded his head, letting you continue.

"As incredible as this summer has been, I love the boring stuff, too. Grocery shopping, folding laundry, watching crappy reality TV shows when we're hungover the next morning that you pretend to hate but somehow know the names of all the cast members."

The corner of Nico's mouth twitched up into a smile briefly at the mention of your morning-after routine you had fallen into over the last few weddings. As fun as the actual weddings were, the in-between moments where it was just the two of you were always the ones that mattered the most. Even if you made him watch the most insufferable dating shows while he nursed a hangover.

"I want it all," you continued, nervously wringing your hands together. You took a deep breath, looking directly into his eyes. "I'm in love with you, and I don't want this to end after tonight."

You tucked your hair behind your ears and adjusted the thin straps of your dress—anything to keep your hands occupied as you anxiously waited for him to say something.

When he remained silent, you could feel your confidence crumbling.

"That's the whole speech," you whispered. You were hoping Nico was just politely waiting for you to finish and not staying quiet as a gentle way to reject you. But the longer he didn't say anything, the more you began to panic. "You can talk now."

"Schatz, I'm not going to break your heart," he finally spoke up. He shook his head slightly, that stupid smirk still on his face. "I love you, too."

"What?" Your fidgeting hands immediately stilled as you stared at Nico in disbelief. "Actually?"

"Has it not been obvious?" he asked.

"I—" you paused.

You were at a loss for words. You were so focused on telling Nico how you felt that you hadn't really considered what would come after that.

"I didn't think I was being subtle," he laughed softly, scratching at the back of his neck as he blushed at the confession. "I knew I was in love with you in London. I wanted to tell you in Paris. Honestly, I thought the flowers said it for me."

"Just because," you whispered.

"You told me that was how to make someone fall in love with you," he shrugged. "I was already so far gone. I needed to know you were, too."

Nico had listened.

He was trying to tell you exactly how he felt about you, in the way you had told him to.

You couldn't bear the distance between you two for a moment longer. Kicking off your heels to steady yourself on your feet, you rushed toward him. Nico effortlessly caught you, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. You crashed your lips down onto his, feeling him smile into the kiss.

As you pulled apart, Nico leaned up to steal one last quick kiss that made your entire body buzz.

"Why couldn't you have told me sooner?" you asked, brushing the tousled strands of hair that had fallen forward off his forehead. "I've been freaking out since Sunny's wedding."

"My sister told me I couldn't tell you I loved you at someone else's wedding. So I was just trying to find the right time," he smiled.

Feeling your face flush with embarrassment at the subtle jab, you buried your face into Nico's neck in hopes he wouldn't notice. He pressed a kiss to your temple as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head against him.

"You beat me to it, Schatz," he whispered, lips still pressed to the side of your head.

"Sorry," you smiled, biting your lip as you felt Nico press another soft kiss to your hair. "You can tell me again, and we'll pretend it's the first time."

"I love you," he said right away.

You straightened up a bit, still held firmly in Nico's arms so you could look down at him. The look on his face, that love and adoration you had thought you saw when he spotted you in the crowd after the ceremony, was still there.

You leaned down to kiss him again, your hands resting on either side of his jaw as you deepened the kiss. When you finally broke away, you used your thumb to wipe the traces of your lip gloss that had transferred to Nico's bottom lip.

"Okay, now we're really going to be late for this reception," you giggled.

Nico gave your waist a light squeeze before gently placing you back down. He watched you grab your discarded heels, opting to hold them rather than try to navigate the rest of this treacherous path with them on.

"Ready to go make our grand entrance as a real couple?" he asked, holding out his hand once you were ready and lacing your fingers with his own.

"How will they even know it's real now?"

He lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. "Oh, trust me," he laughed, "they'll know."

You leaned up to steal one last kiss before squeezing his hand for confirmation.

"Okay, let's do this," you nodded. "I'm ready for the I told you so's."

#i’m actually so in love with this #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fluff #dee’s fic recs #dee’s hockey fic recs

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aphrcdites · 1 year ago

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forget-me-nots — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : soulmate!au, fluff, very light angst ➖⟢ cw : light mentions of canon typical death, violence, and monsters, shirtless sam aaaaa, light descriptions of injuries and blood, reader believes in ghosts before knowing about the supernatural, drinking/alcohol mentions, silly criminal minds reference to my gf elle, kissing, poor editing ➖⟢ wc : 5.6K summary : in a world where flowers grow on your skin in the exact places your soulmate is injured, you’re constantly covered in forget-me-nots.

heartache is one thing. heartache for someone you don’t know, someone whose face you’ve never seen or who you’ve never met, is another, stranger thing. it’s common for many to feel this heartache before they know their soulmate, but sometimes you feel as though you have to worry much more than most.

you try not to let thoughts of your mystery soulmate consume you, but you seem to have constant reminders of them litered on your skin in the form of tiny blue flowers. admittedly, you find it romantic that forget-me-nots are your soulmate flower, with their symbolism of true love, respect, and fidelity. the flowers themself feel like a good omen, a sweet promise of a steady love waiting for you. but, the frequency with which they appear on your skin feels far less lucky and always feeds you so much worry for this person you’ve yet to meet.

this morning, you wake with new blooms snaking along your left collarbone, peeking out from the seam of your sleep shirt. and when you change into new clothes, you find a few more growing on your bicep and the side of your ribs.

sighing, you stand at the mirror lightly brushing your fingers over the small flowers and wonder what sort of trouble your soulmate got into last night. as always, worry floods your chest, but you do your best to tamp it down considering the fact that you only bear a few new blooms. the more severe the injury, the more flowers appear on your skin. today, your soulmate must only be dealing with small surface cuts.

sometimes, you’re covered in so many forget-me-nots that you’re too worried to do much of anything at all. more than once, you’ve wondered how your soulmate could still be alive, and the continuous flowers on your skin serve as your only proof that they're still around. there were a few years where you barely had any blooms, just the usual flower on a fingertip to signify a papercut or the occasional few because of a small accident. but one night the flowers came in bunches and never stopped.

you imagine what you might say or do when you meet them. maybe you’ll want to check on whatever wounds they have, be sure it’s not too bad, or maybe you’ll scold them for making you worry so much. you’ll certainly ask what they do in their life that gets them so injured so often. maybe you’ll do it all.

but for now, you’ll have to move on and get ready for the day. the flowers always linger, though.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s been a rather strange week. the flowers from last thursday have completely faded, and you’ve gone a day or two without any new forget-me-nots appearing on your skin. the strange part has been at work. on monday night, one of your coworkers died in the building, but you still had to come in to work the next day. one of the rooms was taped off, but that was the only evidence of the misfortune. the same thing happened last night, thursday, and you’re ready to do everything you can to get at least the next several days off of work. you don't want to risk anything.

and now, it seems the goddamn fbi is interested in whatever has happened. you’re not a huge fan of the federal government, but you have to admit that the bureau has sent two of its most attractive agents. normally, you’d keep your head down, but you feel inexplicably drawn to one of them. he’s the taller of the two, which is impressive because the other is already tall, and he has pretty brown hair and dimples that you catch a glimpse of as he talks to one of your coworkers.

he looks away from her as he moves away, seemingly done with the interview. he catches your eye, and your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. he’s a beautiful man; pretty and sweet looking at the same time as he’s traditionally handsome and slightly imposing. you’ve never loved a stranger’s eyes so much.

he approaches you and you can’t help but watch as he grows closer.

“hi,” he greets with a small smile, “i’m agent greenaway with the fbi. can i ask you a few questions about the deaths from this week?”

“i’m not sure i’ll be much help, but sure,” you nod, folding your arms over your stomach. agent greenaway doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but the topic at hand certainly does.

“that’s alright. sometimes the smallest things can really be helpful,” he reassures, keeping the kind look on his face. “have you noticed anything strange about either of the deceased or the building this past week or so?”

you shake your head. “not really. i mean i didn’t work closely with macy, and i never noticed anything off about lex.”

“and the building? any strange cold spots or flickering lights?”

you find the question sort of odd coming from an fbi agent, but you instintually feel like you should take it seriously. “um, yeah, actually. it was really cold by the bathrooms last night when i left. at first i thought the ac finally got fixed, but it was still sort of warm over here. in this area”

“okay. thank you for your help,” he smiles at you again and for a reason you can't quite place, you don’t want the unusual conversation to end. you have to hide a hint of delight from your expression when he hands you his card. “call me if you think of anything else.” you accept the card with a nod. he looks like he’s about to walk away, but he pauses. “and, uh– be careful. you should go home early tonight.”

“oh. okay, i will.” without knowing why, you trust him. you want to see him again.

⟢⟢⟢

saturday night is the second busiest night at the bar, but you’re glad it’s not as crowded fridays normally are. you walk straight to the bar to order your go-to drink. as you wait for the bartender to make it, you stare at yourself in the mirror behind the counter out of the corner of your eye. today, there’s two little forget-me-nots right on your left cheek. they look sort of cute there, and you guess you should be grateful that it’s such a small wound. there’s no other flowers on your body yet, which feels like a good run for your soulmate. that’s a little over a whole week in between different injuries, even small ones.

the bartender slides you your drink and you thank them. there’s a small red carnation on their thumb, and you wonder if they’ve met their own soulmate yet. you suppose that at the end of the day, you’re scared of what just about everyone else is. without trying, you worry about not meeting your soulmate until you're old and left without much time together. you want to meet them, and you think the sooner the better. the idea’s been particularly stuck in your mind since last night.

agent greenaway’s words echo in your head. “be careful. you should go home early tonight.” he seemed so sweet, so genuine and caring, and all you’ve been able to think about since then is meeting someone like him. finding someone kind with a little red mark on their cheek and a forget-me-not on their right pointer finger to match the papercut you got earlier this afternoon.

and simply, you’ve been feeling a little lonely these days. how nice would it be to have your literal soulmate by your side?

you sip slowly at your drink, and when the cup’s empty, you pay the tab. the bar isn’t quite serving as the distraction you hoped it would. as you head for the door, your gaze snags on a mop of brown hair that wouldn’t be considered familiar for the fact that you’ve only seen it once, but feels that way regardless. quickly, you scan the rest of the bar, and sure enough you catch sight of agent greenaway’s partner, across the way and very obviously flirting with a pretty brunette.

for a moment you pause, wondering if it would be weird or too out-of-the-blue to approach agent greenaway, but the pull you feel towards him overrides all else, taking your hand and guiding it to throw all caution to the wind.

he’s facing away from you, and with a friendly smile, you slide into the seat across from him.

“hi,” you greet over the noise of music and talking, “d’you mind if i sit here?” it takes him a moment to answer, like he’s lagging a little bit.

“uh– no, no i don’t mind,” he flashes a quick smile back at you, but his gaze and attention are clearly stuck somewhere on your face. for just a split-second, you’re confused by what he could be staring at, but it clicks not a moment later. you don’t know how you missed it: the red mark on his left cheek, so small that your eyes glossed over it when you sat down. eagerly, you drop your gaze to his hands, one casually wrapped around his beer bottle and the other resting on the table. and sure enough, so tiny and pretty against his big hand is a single forget-me-not on his right pointer finger, exactly where you have a bandaid wrapped around your own.

you suck in a sharp breath, eyes caught on the delicate flower and unable to drag themselves away to look back at his face. just like everyone else, you’ve thought about it a million times over, what it would feel like to meet your soulmate, what you would do, how you would act. in this moment, you feel frozen, but you feel right and you feel a million questions and urges rise up in your heart and mind. you desperately want to reach out to him, to touch his hand and the little flower and make sure that they’re both real.

but you absolutely cannot keep your gaze away from his face for long at all and when you meet his eyes, an irresistible smile stretches across your face. you look at him with nothing short of wonderment. he’s just stunning and you can’t believe that he’s supposed to be… well, yours.

just staring at each other, you feel a little flustered and awkward, unsure what to say to him. then you realize he should probably know your name, and all you know is his last. so you stick your right hand out and tell him your name. he takes your hand with a smile and repeats it back, saying it carefully and savoring the sound and feel of it on his tongue.

when you touch him for the first time, your breath gets caught in your throat and it feels so right that you never want to let go.

“i’m sam,” he says, only letting his hand fall away from yours after a few moments. even then, your fingertips are merely inches apart now.

“sam greenaway,” you echo, easily remembering how he introduced himself yesterday. then you puzzle at his reaction and the way that the name doesn’t feel quite right as you look at him. he cringes slightly, like he’s done something to be guilty of. “or… not?” for a minute, things were starting to add up to you. the way you felt drawn to him yesterday and his job as an fbi agent finally explaining all of his many injuries. you figured he must be in fights often.

“i– i’m sorry, this is so– i mean if we’re really,” he takes a deep breath, trying to reset and figure out how to say things right. “if we’re really, you know, soulmates… well, there’s just a lot– a lot for me to explain. i’m not an fbi agent and my real name is sam winchester. but i swear, there’s a reason for me lying and i promise that i’ll explain it to you if you’re willing to hear it. which i understand if you don’t–”

“i do,” you say in earnest, finally cutting him off. it took you a second because, for a moment, you were too stuck on him saying the word soulmate aloud in reference to the two of you. it felt special and you were only half paying attention to the things he said after because of that. then all you were thinking about was how endearing he seems when he’s flustered and worried. “it’s okay,” you reassure him, “i want to hear it. i– i mean, sure, it’s sort of strange that you lied about, you know, all that, but… i’m not– i’m not gonna just meet my… my soulmate and not give you a chance.” he still looks a little tense, but his shoulders have dropped a bit in relief and there’s the hint of a grateful smile on his features.

“thank you,” he says, glad for your reassurance but still worried about how you might take the rest of the far weirder explanations that he has left to tell you. “can i maybe get you a drink?”

you smile at the offer, but shake your head a bit. “i was actually just heading out when i saw you. would you maybe wanna get out of here? my apartment’s less than a ten minute walk away.” for a moment, you wonder if that’s too much for just having met, but sam visibly relaxes just a little bit more.

“that would be nice,” he smiles. he’s getting ready to stand when he glances across the bar, seemingly remembering about his partner. or not partner. you’re not quite sure. “my brother, dean,” he explains simply when he catches your gaze on the other man. “i should tell him where i’m going.”

“okay,” you nod, filing the new information away in your mind and watching him weave between tables and flirting couples to reach his brother. the exchange is a bit funny to watch. at first dean looks annoyed at being interrupted by sam. then he glances at you with a sly smirk and makes some comment that is probably less than appropriate judging from his expression. and then his face morphs into one of surprise before it’s taken over by a smile. he claps sam on the shoulder and sends him off. you almost miss the look that dean gives you as sam heads back towards you because you’re so focused on the sweet smile that sam’s now wearing. you only catch dean’s look for a second before sam is back at your side. it’s easy to assume dean as the older brother, with his eyes on you being protective, proud, careful, and happy all at once. and they’re close enough that sam told him about you right away.

walking home with sam at your side is both completely strange and familiar all at once. it’s strange for a number of reasons, the main being that you’d never invite any other unknown man to your apartment, especially not one with a cryptic identity and such an imposing build. and yet, you’re not afraid or worried because of how familiar and safe it feels. it feels familiar because it feels right, it feels like exactly what you should be doing.

on the way over, he asks about you a little bit, trying not to overwhelm you with questions or seem overbearing with how eager he is to hear what you have to say. his kindness and carefulness are clear to you, and you love it. you answer happily, despite knowing he’s partially asking to avoid talking about himself until you settle down.

once inside, sam follows you right to the couch in the living room, sitting when you motion towards it and plop down into a chair across from him. he takes in the space, eyes roaming over your furniture, decor, and every little detail. he wants to know about you, just like you do him.

“it’s really nice in here,” he compliments, sounding so sincere that it’s just sweet.

“thank you,” you respond softly, wondering exactly what parts of the room he likes. you let him look around a second or two more before speaking again. “so… can i ask? you know, about it all, i guess? about you?”

he doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks the way that you ask is so lovely. half of him wants to make up some silly, somewhat believable explanation to spare you the truth, but he knows that would never work out well. not if you choose to stay together in some way or another. already, that’s what he wants. he doesn’t doubt that you’re indeed his soulmate, the one who he’s been sharing wounds and flowers with for as long as he can remember. sam has both yearned for and dreaded this moment. he tries not to be obvious about it or over do it, but he’s sort of a total romantic. he’s had doubts about how this whole idea of soulmates could really be real or make much sense, but those thoughts are eased with each moment he spends with you. he still wants to get to know you before he does anything with you, but the way that he wants to get to know you is something he’s never felt before. it’s undeniably special.

the dread is because he’s known ever since he got back into hunting that he’d never be able to hide the truth of his world from you. he has no idea how he’s going to get to you to believe him or convince you that he’s not completely insane, but he’s going to tell you the truth anyway. even if you do believe him, he wants to give you a choice. you shouldn’t have to get involved with this life in any way at all if you don’t want to. he’d never force you to try things with him if it’s too strange or too scary or hard or anything. and already, he knows that he’ll never stop thinking about you if you do choose to stay away, but he also knows that he’d never try to change your mind or force you to do anything else other than exactly what you want.

“of course you can ask,” he responds, matching the softness of your own voice. “i, um– i’m honestly not quite sure how to say all of this without sounding totally crazy, and i completely understand that, but just– try to bear with me, i guess. and if you need proof, which i also understand, i’ll do my best to get it for you, it’s just– sort of hard.”

honestly, you’re wildly confused as to what the hell he could possibly say that would make him this anxious. it worries you a little bit too. you don’t want him to feel afraid to tell you anything at all. so, you nod at him in encouragement, trying not to seem nervous yourself.

“my brother and i, we– we hunt monsters. real ones. ghosts, vampires, demons, the works. they’re all real. your coworkers who died, they were– they were killed by an angry spirit. we got rid of it last night,” he says those words like they’re a ten ton weight off of his chest, but he’s still got another ten sitting there as he awaits your response. he looks at you so carefully, trying to gauge any sort of reaction.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, and probably disbelief and a million other things. “angry spirit? like a ghost?” you’re not sure why that’s the first question that slips out, but you suppose it’s an easier one than are you insane? or what the hell are you talking about?

he nods his head carefully, like he’s waiting for you to freak out or call him crazy and tell him to go. “yeah. the ghost, she had died there, near the bathrooms where you felt the cold spot, in the 90s. she was triggered to kill when the man suspected of her murder was granted parole.”

“okay,” you breathe out, sort of nervously. the craziest thing is that you don’t disbelieve him. you’re not convinced by any stretch, but when you look him in the eye and listen close to his voice, there’s nothing but sincerity there. “i mean… that is sort of a kinda crazy thing to say,” you begin, “but i’ve always sort of believed in ghosts, so i don’t think you’re completely, you know, insane.” you laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood a little. you don’t want him to stress, however unbelievable his words are. “the rest is a bit… shaky, i guess. it’s a hard thing to believe, i mean… vampires. and– and demons. it’s a lot. and honestly, i’m not sure how much i’ll really, truly believe until i see, i don’t know, something, i guess,” you admit, “but… but i don’t think you’re lying to me either.”

“thank you for that,” he says, voice as sincere as ever, “and i completely understand. honestly, part of me didn’t want to tell you at all, but… it’s sort of my whole entire life at this point and it wouldn’t be fair to hide from you. or– or to not give you a choice right off the bat of whether or not you wanted to be involved. it’s– it’s a lot and it’s dangerous. and if it’s what you want, i promise i’ll try to find a way to prove it to you, it’s just… hard to do that without putting you in danger. and i really don’t want to put you in danger.”

“that’s sweet, sam,” you say, not really bothering to hide the way you feel. “i’m not, you know, eager to meet any monsters anytime soon, but whenever it’s… the least dangerous, i guess, you can show me. until then… i’ll just trust you. and in the meantime maybe we can sort of just get to know each other?” you suggest, surprising yourself with how ready you are to trust him on this.

sam smiles at you sweetly. “that sounds perfect to me. i just– i don’t want to force you into something you don’t want for yourself. i live out of crappy motels and my brother’s car while hunting monsters that shouldn’t be real. i’m just… i’m sorry i’m not someone easier.”

you smile at him sort of sadly. “that’s not your fault, sam. i never asked for someone ‘easy’ anyway. just someone kind and respectful and you seem to be just that so far. besides, there’s gotta be a reason, right? that… we’re soulmates. honestly, if you were anyone else i wouldn’t trust you like this. an–and it’s not like i’m trusting you blindly because of something that we’re supposed to be. we just met. i’m only trusting you because it feels right to. and this whole soulmate thing never made too much sense to me until i met you. now it sort of does, because this feels right so far. at least, it does to me.”

“it feels right to me too,” he quickly assures, not wanting for you to misunderstand that for a second.

⟢⟢⟢

as two people who aren’t quite ready to jump into such a committed relationship with completely different lives, it’s a little bit strange to be soulmates. and yet, nothing about it is anything but honey-sweet to you. the night you met as soulmates for the first time, you ended up talking for hours. all you had to do was sort of ignore the huge and slightly unbelievable bomb he dropped on you within the first hour of talking. oddly enough, that was sort of easy. you learned that sam’s appetite for knowledge is just about insatiable, including when it comes to knowing about you.

he had words rolling off of your tongue, asking the best, most interesting questions and providing such sincere and in-depth responses. that night, he was just lovely, and that’s pretty much all he’s been since. he’s this adorable mix of confident and shy, awkward and knowing just the right thing to say. and he’s incredibly smart, an almost stanford pre-law graduate who was headed for bigger things before he was pulled back into hunting a little over two years ago. this explains the difference in all his injuries from the past two years versus the three beforehand. secretly, you mourn for the life that he, and subsequently you, might have had, but only because he gets a little wistful every time he talks about stanford.

mostly, you talk on the phone, only stopping late in the night when one of you catches the other yawning. he seems to sleep so little, yet he lives such a tiring life. you almost always seem to be the one who gets too tired first. one night, you fell asleep to his voice, and since then, you feel like it’s the single best way to drift into dreams.

sam tries to avoid the topic of the supernatural, but you ask him about it anyway. as you get used to the idea of monsters being real, you find yourself wanting to understand it all better. you want to understand him better. and you don’t want him to feel like he has to hide the biggest parts of his life from you or for him to have trouble fitting you into his world.

he always answers your questions, omitting any extreme gore or death, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize how many people he really saves. that’s his life; saving people.

it takes three weeks for you to see him again since the first night, and three more plus a whole lot of convincing on your end for him to bring you on a hunt with him. he tries to hide it, but he’s so worried for you, despite all the reassurances he’s made that this particular ghost isn’t really all that violent or dangerous. by now, you’ve already come to mostly believe all that he's told you, but to see it in real life is still the final confirmation that you need to be fully convinced.

sam keeps you by his side the whole time, one hand on you every moment that he can afford it. the second the ghost appears, he blasts it with a salt round from his shotgun, and he thinks he could cry when you flinch at the loud noise. yet, he feels comforted that you don’t seem all too scared. and strangely, you really aren’t. sam easily makes you feel safe. luckily, the next time the ghost appears, it bursts into flames moments later thanks to dean burning the bones.

the moment it’s gone, sam drops the gun to the ground and turns to you, accidentally ruining the now unnecessary salt line around you in his rush to check on you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, a hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek as he looks you up and down.

“i’m alright, sam,” you reassure. it’s true that you’re a little shaky, and just the tiniest bit scared, but to have your confirmation and sam by your side is much more important to you.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes anyway, pulling you into a hug that’s more for his peace of mind than yours. of course, you don’t complain, easily finding his arms to be your new favorite place in the world.

oddly enough, taking it almost slow works well. he kisses you the next time he sees you, a week and a half later, and you’ve never wanted anything more than to have him keep kissing you, over and over again. he just feels like yours and you feel like his and you’ve barely known him for long, but when he kisses you it’s like there’s stars hung from the ceiling and flowers made from nothing but love and healing growing all over you. when he kisses you it’s sunlight and moonglow bottled up and mixed with sweet, pure maple syrup. his lips on yours feel like lucky four leaf clovers, like it’s possible to taste heaven on someone else’s tongue.

and though it mostly works for him to just visit as often as he can, which sometimes isn’t often at all, and to call him at every moment you can, the yearning only grows. you swear that you’re addicted to his lips, to his big hands cupping your jaw all gentle and sweet or his bulky arms boxing you in as he kisses you so hard that you melt right into the sheets.

and some nights, though he tries to hide it, you can hear him struggling with what seems to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. his job is anything but easy or fruitful. before, you thought that you might worry less when you found out exactly why your soulmate was getting injured so often, but now every time new blooms appear on your skin, you spend all day fretting until you can get him on the phone to make sure he’s alright.

you suppose he gets just as worried as you, despite the fact that you’re never in nearly as much danger as he is. a week ago, a jagged edge on a metal wire fence snagged at your skin, drawing a very shallow, but long line of blood down your forearm. seconds later, you had a frantic sam on the phone, so worried about all the little blue flowers on his arm.

it’s not as hard as he thinks for you to tell how much fear and worry he lives in. you know that he doesn’t tell you the half of it sometimes, even when you ask. all you want is to have him a little closer, to be there for him and provide the sort of comfort that you’re sure he’s never really had before. and though he’s told you that having you to talk to, so receptive and encouraging for him, has been a complete blessing, you still wish for more. you want his arms enveloping you and his lips on yours and his warm body in your bed. really, you just miss him. all the time.

⟢⟢⟢

tonight is one of the glorious nights that you get to have him with you. his broad frame takes up so much space in your bed, and you love it more than just about anything. he props himself up on one elbow and you mirror his pose as you let your eyes roam over each other’s features and take turns rambling about every little thing from this past week. unable to resist, sam kisses you often. he just leans over, swiftly closing the small space between you and pressing his lips to yours. he looks so beautiful like this; at peace, his shirtless body and protective tattoo framed all prettily by clean white sheets.

eventually, comforting words turn into a comforting silence, and you drop your head to your pillow. your eyes droop a little as you play with the idea letting a few more words slip from your tongue. you want to say something to him, but you can’t tell if it’s the right time.

sam settles on his pillow, just like you. “what is it?” he whispers, inviting and respectful. his voice tells you that you’re welcome to say whatever you’re thinking about, but that it’s okay if you don’t want to quite yet.

you smile a little at how well he’s able to read you. since he asked so sweetly, you say it. “i can’t be away from you, sam. i love you, i really do.” this isn’t the first time you’ve said the three special words to each other, but his eyes grow infinitely softer than they were before each time you do.

this time, his eyes do soften, but he cringes a little too, because he feels sorry and because he feels the same exact way. “i can’t make you live like i do. i love you, too, so much. and i hate being away from you, but this? this life, it– it’s sort of awful, and it’s dangerous and hard and–”

you swiftly cut him off with a kiss that he more than willingly melts into. “i know,” you whisper against his lips, barely moving from him to speak. “but– but what if we tried something else? you still go on your hunts and all that, but you and dean can stay here in between. there’s this cabin in the woods i’ve been eyeing, it’s sort of small but it’s isolated and we could ward it. i’ve been looking into protection and warding spells, and i think we could make it work… only, you know, if you wa–”

this time he’s the one to cut you off with a kiss, passionate and sweet all at once. when your lips part, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bear to be any further from you.

“i want to,” he says, voice so sure and sturdy. “i really want to… but how’re we gonna get the house? it’s not like me or dean can buy property, and i can’t make you–”

“i want to,” you echo his words, just as sincerely. “please, sam, let me do this. i’ve been saving money for a long time and it’s a little run down so it’s not too expensive. and i’m getting sick of this apartment.”

“you’re gonna live there?” he asks, not bothering to hide his hope and sparkling joy at that idea.

you grin. “of course. there’s three bedrooms and it’s so pretty and i can’t, you know, pay for that and the apartment at the same time. and i– i wanna be there every time you get home.”

that word gets to him. sam doesn’t really have a solid or normal concept of home—the closest thing he has is the impala. but it sounds so right when it comes out of your mouth. “and– and you’re okay with that?” he asks, still needing to be reassured, “you said it was isolated, and–”

“i’m sure, sam,” you emphasize, “it’s only 20 minutes from town and the roads to and from are never busy. i’ve always wanted to live in the woods, i swear. and if it meant i could be with you more, i’d never ever say no to this. please… can we talk to dean about it?”

“yes,” he gushes. “yes, of course, i– you’re amazing.” he seals the deal with a firm, giddy kiss. “and if dean says he doesn’t like the idea, i don’t care. i’m gonna do this with you.” another kiss and your heart softens infinitely. “besides, he loves the pie from the bakery on morrison street, which means he can’t say no.” he gives you another kiss and pulls away again, and you know that he’s bound to keep rambling if you let him, so you wrap an arm around his neck and thread your fingers through his soft, pretty hair. then you kiss him hard until he can’t breathe. he returns the favor by tenfold, whispering through labored breath how much he loves you and wants you and thinks that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #supernatural #spn #supernatural fluff #dee’s fic recs #dee’s spn fic recs

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