nvlndrs

[nvlndrs]

girl who does NOTTT know whats going on

[nvlndrs]

─── COLD NIGHTS AND SLOW DANCES | PART 2

─── NICO HISCHIER X FEM!READER

[ overall summary ] Last minute wedding guests lead to sleeping arrangements being shifted around, forcing you to share a room with your brother's very attractive best friend. Old sparks and suppressed feelings come to light, but you're not entirely convinced that it's not just the wedding getting to everyone's head...

[ word count ] 6.8k

[ content warnings ] angst, kissing scenes (2), readers a little oblivious, alludes to smut but no actual smut (for the sake of the story this takes place when no one is upstairs lmao) , unedited, open ending!!!

[ note ] sorry this took so long!! i hope you guys like it <3

part one

And sweet dreams they were. Too sweet. Not exactly the kind of dream you wanted to have when the star of the show was sleeping right next to you. 

You aren’t positive what time it is when you slowly slip back into the present, but the first thing you notice is the heavy weight pressing against your midsection. Then it was the heat pressed against your back, followed by the soft hum of breathing in your ear. Your own breathing falters as you slowly come to the realization that Nico was holding you. That he was keeping you against him like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth. 

Your body stills as a few beats of silence pass, contemplating what you should do next. Though the feeling of his finger tips pressing into your hip was making that increasingly difficult. Do you try and free yourself from his nearly iron-clad hold, or do you accept your temporary fate and attempt to go back to sleep? Ultimately, you selfishly choose the latter and relax against him until you’re diving back into the sweetest of dreams. 

When you finally come to a few hours later, you’re uncomfortably aware that you are now very much so alone in the bed. The man that previously occupied the spot directly behind you left nothing but a half made bed and empty feeling in his wake, and you couldn’t stop the slight sense of embarrassment that was crawling up your neck. Had Nico purposely slipped out before you woke up because he was weirded out when he woke up to you practically glued to him? Had he gone down to ask if it was too late to switch to the couch?

Deep down, you knew you were likely reading far too much into than what was necessary, but you were never one to be an underthinker, or even a normal thinker. Everything about what went on in your mind was over the top and dramatic, and thinking about Nico was certainly not an exception to that. If anything, thinking about Nico only made that worse.

By the time you had rid yourself of your pajamas and made yourself presentable enough for breakfast, most of your anxieties had dissipated to more of a dull annoyance rather than a stabbing reminder. However, you’re positive you can credit your ability to relax to your cousin coming into your room halfway through getting ready and her distracting you with her own boy problems. Who knew fourteen year olds had so much drama?

A group of uncles, dads and eager to learn kids had all helped make breakfast on the blackstone out back, which you were grateful for because you didn’t have the energy to make anything that wasn’t a bowl of cereal. You were carefully shoveling food onto your plate while simultaneously scanning the small crowd. For no one in particular, of course. Your brows were slightly pinched together as you took the seat by your mom, but you tried to shake off your confusion before she noticed.

Wishful thinking.

“Some of the boys went into town to grab some last minute supplies,” She cooly informs, bringing her mug of coffee to her lips, “Though, Nico didn’t seem all too eager to go. You wouldn’t have any idea what that’s about?”

Your cheeks burn when you feel a few too many pairs of eyes fall to you, and you’re silently cursing your mom for saying something so incriminating around the biggest gossips in the family. She meetsyour narrow eyes with an amused twinkle in her own, giving you an innocent shrug as if she didn’t know what she was doing. Can’t trust anyone around here.

“No, I’m not sure,” You say through a strained breath, “I haven’t talked to him much.”

“Oh, honey, you should! He’s so handsome and you two are sharing a room. Maybe you could show a little leg and get him into bed with ya.”

“Aunt Myrna!” 

When the guys returned from their venture into town, everyone else was far too busy with setting up for the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding itself, to pay them any mind as they poured into the backyard. Except for Irene who was quick to branch off from her own task to curtly hand them their own, and none of them even dared to speak out against her orders. While they scramble to find their respective workstations, you can’t help but sneak a small peak at Nico as he follows after a few of the other groomsmen.

You watch as his gaze bounces from person to person until it lands on you, and the smile that forms on his face when he finds you already looking at him makes your legs turn to jelly. Even from across the yard, you can see the way his dimples indent his cheeks and his eyes shine with excitement. It makes the smile you give him in return come without effort , and hopefully just as bright as his own. With his focus solely on you, you can’t bring yourself to care about Zack’s suspicious gaze flickering between you, or Marni’s mischievous smile once she notices you from a few feet away. For that fleeting moment, it was only you and Nico, and you felt something you thought would never be real for you clawing its way to the surface. 

Once you were finished with your delegated job, you were darting up to your room to shower off all the sweat that clung to you before you began getting ready for the rehearsal. This time, you made sure to bring a pair of shorts and a tank top to change into while you were still in the bathroom so there wasn’t a repeat of yesterday's events. With your hair wrapped up in a towel, you step out of the bathroom to see Nico sitting in the desk chair and you nearly choke on the air that’s passing through to your lungs. 

The material of his shirt was clinging to his chest and biceps, his shorts were riding up his thighs because of the way he was sitting, his hair was damp with sweat and falling in his eyes. God, all he’s doing is sitting there and it’s making your brain short circuit. 

“Are you alright,” His voice breaks through the fog clouding your head. 

The smugness that was woven between his words didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you don’t acknowledge them either. You couldn’t. Not when he looked like that and all you wanted to do was kiss him until you couldn’t breathe. Among other things.

“Yeah,” You nervously clear your throat, avoiding his gaze as you make your way to the side of the bed, “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” He hums, and you can feel his eyes dragging the length of your body, “Are you done in the bathroom? I need to shower all this sweat off before the dinner.”

“All yours,” You wave off as you busy yourself with setting up the hair and makeup products you need, “Be careful when you walk in, though. I accidentally dropped the shower head and water got everywhere.”

“I skate for a living, I think I can handle it,” He playfully jokes as he grabs his clothes from his bag. 

You pause your movements, listening as the door closes behind him, and not soon after, you can hear a quick and quiet string of foreign curse words followed by the sound of, what you assume is, his hand slapping against the counter to steady himself. There was no stopping the laughter from escaping you, but you did try to at least stifle it so he didn’t hear you. However, you knew you failed when you heard his muffled shout of protest, which only makes you laugh harder. 

Music softly plays on your phone while you focus on getting hair dried and styled correctly before you can move on to your makeup. You were in the middle of curling your lashes when you hear the bathroom door clicking open, and your mouth drops open to make fun of Nico for nearly slipping, but the words get caught in your throat when you see him stepping into the room with nothing but a towel on. 

The material was snug against his hips, droplets of water falling from his hair and rolling down the planes of his toned chest. Your gaze slides further down, pausing when you get to the small happy trail beneath his belly button. You let out a shaky breath, one that you hope was subtle enough that missed it, and you force your stare further north just in time to watch his gaze flicker towards you.

“Sorry, forgot my pants,” He smoothly apologizes, tossing you an almost knowing smile before he disappears back into the bathroom.

Oh. My. God. You might need to lie down for a minute. Your entire body was on fire, burning with a type of desire you hadn’t felt in a long time, and a small part of you thinks that it’s not just you who can feel it. 

The ceremony rehearsal goes as well as it could have gone. Though, during the entire run through, you could feel Nico’s eyes on you and you tried to ignore it. You tried to focus on listening to the instructions being called out, moving when you needed to, but he was making it so damn hard. Every time you thought you had calmed down enough, your gaze would accidentally snag his own and you felt like your heart was that much closer to beating out of your chest.

It wasn’t any easier during the dinner itself, either. Especially not when Nico’s assigned seat was directly next to yours. The whole time he was making casual conversation with you, and you were doing your best to appear cool and collected, but that had never been your forte. Instead, you would actively seek out any one of the others around you to act as a sort of buffer to alleviate some of your nerves until everything was over and you could go your separate ways for the night.

Luckily for you, since tomorrow was the wedding, you and Zack were switching rooms so he was rooming with Nico while you got to stay with Marni for the night. You thought it would be easier to sleep without him less than a foot away from you, but it was nearing two in the morning and you had yet to fall asleep. Hopefully Stacy was good at concealing under eye bags, or maybe the photographer could just edit them out afterwards. 

After tossing and turning for far longer than you wanted to, you slowly slipped out of the bed and tiptoed towards the door. You were careful when you were sliding it open and closed, not wanting to  make any sort of noise loud enough to force her out of sleep. The last thing you wanted was to ruin the bride's sleep before the big day, even if she is a heavy sleeper. 

The house is quiet as you make your way through the halls, passing by Thomas who was halfway on the couch and completely uncovered by the blanket that was now on the floor. When you reach the kitchen, you leave the bigger lights off and use only the light coming through the wall of glass behind you to find your way to the fridge. You pull a bottle of water out and let the door shut on its own, leaning against the counter to unscrew the bottle cap. 

You were too zoned out to hear the sound of footsteps approaching you, or the sound of someone softly calling your name. It wasn’t until you felt the pressure of someone’s hand on your shoulder that a startled yelp passed through your lips and you noticed you were no longer alone anymore. Nico was biting back laughter as your hand clamped over your mouth, both of you letting a few beats pass to make sure your yell didn’t wake anyone up. 

“Sorry,” He quietly chuckles,  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing awake,” You redirect, placing the bow half-drunk water bottle on the counter behind you. 

“Same thing as you it seems,” He points out as he repeats your actions from not even five minutes ago, “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” You shake your head as you cross your arms against your chest, “Don’t know why. I’m exhausted, but I just can’t get my brain to turn off.” 

“I know the feeling,” He mumbles as he leans against the counter beside you, “So, I overheard a special someone wants to dance with you tomorrow.”

His words cause your eyes to widen and your brows to shoot up while asking, “Who?”

“Thomas,” Nico snickers, though you can hear an underlying tone to his voice that starkly contracts the amusement, “Said the first slow song that comes on, he’s finding you.” 

“Oh no,” You groan, throwing your head back in annoyance, “I can’t even slow dance, and, full offense, I do not want him to be the one to teach me.”

“What do you mean you can’t slow dance,” Nico’s face twists in confusion, his hair falling into his eyes as he angles himself to peer down at you. 

“Never learned,” You plainly shrug, “I never went to any school dances, and every wedding I’ve gone to, I went by myself, so I’ve just never done it.”

You watch as Nico discards his water bottle somewhere on the counter before he steps into your space, “Let me teach you.”

The air is sucked out of your lungs as you peer up at him, jaw slack as the words you want to say die in your throat. Nico’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for your response, but you’re not sure you trust yourself enough to speak without it coming out strangled and messy. Instead, you manage a weak nod he can barely see in the lowly lit kitchen, but that was all he needed.

Without breaking eye contact, he grabs your left hand and slowly guides it to grasp the nape of his neck before he places one of his on your hip. He uses his leverage on you to pull you into his chest, and he slides his other hand across the inside of your forearm to lace his fingers with your own. You let him move you however he wants, let him pull you so close that you’re almost certain he can feel your heart racing. 

“There’s no music,” You finally speak up through a shaky breath, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“We can pretend,” Nico’s voice is deep and gruff, making the warm feeling in your stomach spread.

He slips his hand to the small of your back, applying the tiniest amount of pressure as he begins to guide your body across the floor. The silence between you was palpable, almost suffocatingly so. Even in the darkness, you can see the way Nico’s eyes fall to your lips and it feels like the world around you fades away until only the two of you remain. 

His hand flexes against your back, and your fingers inch upwards to toy with the ends of his hair. Waiting. The space between you slowly disappears until you can feel his warm breath fanning across the bottom half of your face, and your lips are ghosting over his.  You’re teasing him, baiting him into chasing after you the same way he had done to you all those years ago when he kissed you the first time, but Nico wasn’t waiting anymore. He’d done plenty of that. 

His mouth was on yours and your head was soaring into the stars above. His mouth moves against yours like you were made for each other. When you drop his hand to grasp at the material of his shirt against his chest, Nico uses it as an opportunity to cradle the back of your head and deepen the kiss into something that makes your knees nearly give out. If it weren’t for his arm holding you against him, you’re positive they would have.

His hand slips under your t-shirt, fingers gently grazing your side in a way that makes your entire body shudder. Without breaking away from him, you slowly let your hand fall down the length of his chest, stopping just at the hem of his shirt when your fingers twitch for the waistband of his shorts. The want, the desire, is there, but you knew better than to open that door when you were in the middle of a kitchen you shared with over two dozen people who could walk in at any moment.

When your fingertips press against his toned stomach, it pulls a groan out of Nico that makes heat pool between your legs and that was when you knew you needed to stop before you started something that you weren’t going to be able to finish. At least, not here and not now. 

You breathlessly pull away from him, letting your forehead fall to his heaving chest and your arms relax over his shoulders. Your head was still spinning Nico delicately nudges your head with his own, bringing your attention back up to him. His parted lips were red and swollen, and it was taking everything in you to not capture them with your own all over again. 

“Hopefully that was better than last time,” He laughs, though you can hear traces of apprehension in his voice. 

“I mean, I think I was but,” You trail off, your head rolling to the side. 

“Alright now,” He playfully presses his fingers into the fleshy part of your hip, “I guess you’ll have to practice with me some more, then.”

Your response is smothered by the sounds of someone softly calling Nico’s name as they come down the stairs, and both of you share a knowing look before you’re begrudgingly stepping out of his grasp. Zack’s footsteps echo off the walls as they near, and you are turning on your heels to make your way back to Marni’s room. The last thing you needed was your brother seeing the two of you alone in the dark.

“Goodnight, Nico,” You quietly call over your shoulder, giving him one last look before you disappear down the hall.

You didn’t have time to think about the events of last night. The second you were woken up, you were forced into the shower and instructed to go to the makeshift bridal suite the moment you were done. Everything after that was a flurry of hair and makeup sessions, running off to grab whatever Marni or Irene needed you to grab, or various photo op sessions at her request. By the time everyone was being guided into their positions, you had almost forgotten the moment between you and Nico.

Almost. 

The sight of him walking down the hall with the others brought the memory to the forefront of your mind all over again. It made the warm feeling in your stomach return like it had never left, and you had to force yourself to turn away to steady your breathing and bring your heart rate down to something that could be considered normal. You can hear his voice floating past the people behind you, drifting into your ears, making an entire swarm of butterflies flutter around in your stomach. 

“Hey,” Nico calls out, pulling your attention back to him now that he’s standing right beside you, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Your cheeks burn as you let your eyes dance across every inch of him, taking note of the way the suit was made to fit him perfectly. It was making it hard to focus on speaking, “You look pretty nice yourself.” 

“You think,” He playfully questions, running his hands along the front of his jacket, “I wasn’t sure if this was my color.”

“Nico, it’s a black suit,” You deadpan with a shake of your head. 

Whatever you were going to say next is cut off by the sound of Irene shouting at everyone to get in their places. Everyone begins to shuffle around the kitchen, lining up in their assigned position with their assigned partner. Minus Thomas who is, in fact, walking by himself. Hopefully, no one gave him enough time to sneak off and bribe whoever was in charge of the music. 

Nico settles into the spot to your right, wordlessly holding his arm out while he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. You slide your hand over the bend in his arm, resting your wrist against it as you adjust the small bouquet of flowers in your grasp. You shuffle on your feet and take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way the skin of your palm feels like it’s on fire. However, it soon falls to the back of your mind when the music begins to play outside and everyone is making their way out the door.

The ceremony was simple, yet insanely beautiful. Not a single dry eye left when it was time to make the short trip to the reception tent. You were grateful for Stacy’s impeccable makeup skills because, if it hadn’t been for your glassy eyes, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that you cried. Unless you were Nico, who had only looked away from you a total of three times the entire time.

Exactly like in the rehearsal, you were in the chair beside Nico, but this time you don’t shy away from him. You give him your full attention when you can, you let him press his thigh against yours without flinching away, you even scoot your chair closer to his. Well, technically he did that on his own when he grabbed the leg of the chair and tugged it in his direction.

“Can you believe,” Nico lowly calls out, leaning over to get a little closer to your ear, “Our boy is married. The same guy who once bailed off the roof because he swore his legs were unbreakable is married.”

“I know,” You chuckle, a soft look in your eyes as you watch the newlyweds dance, “I’m happy for them. I’m glad they found each other.”

As the first dance and parent dances come to an end, they announce that they were going to start playing music for everyone. You stay seated as most of the others dart to the dance floor, diving deeper into a conversation with a few of the other bridesmaids about your favorite memories with Marni. Meanwhile, Nico stays in the seat next to you with his arm slung around the back of your chair.

The upbeat song fades into something slower and with a gentle melody, and it wasn’t long until everyone was whisking their respective partners away to dance with them. Your shoulders slouch a little bit, but all it takes is a gentle nudge to your bicep to bring your attention to Nico. He doesn’t say anything, wordlessly glancing to the middle of the tent before his eyes shift to a few seats down from you. With one quick look behind you to see Thomas moving from his chair, you were grabbing Nico’s hand and dragging him to join the others.

You can feel everyone’s gaze on you as they watch you with curious and watchful eyes, but you force yours to stay trained on Nico’s face. Neither of you look away from the other as you position yourselves, both of you getting lost in whatever was filling the small space between you while your hands find their places against him. Finally, you take a shaky breath, briefly letting your eyes wander until you accidentally catch the suspicious stare that belonged to Zack. His eyes narrow at you, but you don’t linger for too long before you begin to move along to the music. 

You try to, at least. It took all of ten seconds for you to stumble over your own feet. 

“I told you I don’t know how to do this,” You sheepishly mumble, eyes falling to Nico’s chest as it rumbles with quiet laughter.

“You’re doing great,” His hand flexes on your hip, “Just let me guide you like I did last night.”

Your ears burn at the double meaning of his words, but you don’t say anything as you let your gaze crawl back to his face. He was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling too smugly, but you could see the glint in his eyes that gave him away. It makes heat flood to your cheeks, and to your stomach. 

“I love weddings,” You hear who you think is Marni’s great aunt sigh from a few feet away, “They’re full of so much love and it brings people together.”

Her words hit a nerve within you, making your body go rigid despite Nico’s efforts to keep you moving across the floor. An ice cold realization washes over you, sending an uncomfortable chill straight to your bones. You watch as his face twists, his brows knitting together and his head tilting in confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask. He just keeps you as close as possible until the final chords are filtering through the speakers. 

“I’m going to go see if they need any help at the bar,” You rush out before he can even get a word in, stepping away from him like his touch was burning you. 

You avoid Nico for the rest of the reception, and this time everyone notices. You’re dodging question after question from anyone who speaks to you, brushing their assumptions off with the simple excuse that it was just a dance. There was nothing between you and Nico. It was just the spirit of the wedding bringing two of the three single adults together. 

That was all any of this was, wasn’t it?

Zack doesn’t say anything to you about it, but there was a small period of time where he stepped away with Nico, and no one knew why. It was during that time that your parents had decided to corner you, pressing and prodding until you harshly snap at them to stop. The second they see the glossy look in your eyes, they’re smoothly changing the subject, but you know all that means is they’re making a mental bookmark to check in with you later. You just hope you’re able to lock yourself in your room before they get the chance to.

When the happy couple decides to make their break for the airport, you stay sandwiched between your parents and in front of your uncles so there’s no room for Nico around you. Shouts of goodbyes echo into the woods as they finally make their break to get their honeymoon started, and for a moment you forget about the nauseating ball in your throat. Despite the people of the hour being gone, no one makes a move to stop the party. In fact, you’re almost positive you heard your uncle yell something about grilling hamburgers for everyone. 

“I’m gonna go inside,” You mumble to your mom, an overwhelming wave of emotions hitting you all at once, “Just for a bit. I need a breather.”

“Okay, sunshine,” She wraps her arm around your shoulder and places a gentle kiss on your temple, “I’ll snag ya a burger when they’re done. I love you.”

Luckily for you, everyone was far too focused on finding more cases of beer and getting the grills fired up to notice you slipping into the house. You don’t let your shoulders fall until the door to your room is shut behind you, a heavy exhale passing through your lips as you lean your head back. Your brain was running a mile a minute trying to run through every interaction you’ve had with Nico over the last few days.

Was any of it real for him? Was he only interested because you were his only option? 

It made sense. You’ve known Nico for nearly a decade, and, outside of the awkward kiss, he had never shown any interest in you before. He typically would only text you first when it was related to a trip you were taking with Zack to visit, or related to your brother in general. Other times, it was you who was reaching out to him. Sure, he would respond within minutes. Sure he was always one of the first people to like your instagram pictures or tell you happy birthday, but those were things he had always done. It was just how he was.

You should’ve known better than to let yourself think it was anything more than a casual weekend fling for him.

Pushing yourself off the door, you step out of your shoes and navigate through the mess of blankets, clothes, and bags strewn across the floor. As you settle on the edge of the unmade bed, you tug at the neckline of your dress, the material uncomfortably clawing at your skin. The pins holding your hair felt like they were pressing into your skull, your feet were aching from the strap of your heels being too tight and all you wanted to do was sleep. After party be damned.

You were standing in front of the mirror trying to pull out all of the bobby pins that were keeping your hair in place when you heard the door opening. Assuming it was your mom or dad, you don’t bother to peek your head out the door, too focused on the task at hand. However, the person you hear calling your name makes your stomach sink.

“Hey,” He greets, voice hesitant and soft, “I saw you come up so I wanted to check on you.”

You keep your eyes focused on the mirror, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was clenching in your chest, “I’m alright.”

Your response was short and curt in an attempt to come off impassive, but the way your hands were trembling gave you away. Not that Nico needed any help figuring out that something with you was off. He’s known that since the two of you danced together. What he didn’t know was why.

Silence clings to both of you, Nico unsure where to guide the conversation, and you not trusting the words that could come out of your mouth. With your hair free from what felt like a thousand pins, you wordlessly slipped passed Nico and tried to busy yourself with searching through one of your bags on the desk. Though you can feel his stare piercing your back, and you’re fairly certain you’ve flipped over the same shirt six times because you can’t seem to focus.

“I don’t buy it,” He rumbles, stepping closer to you, “Something's wrong.”

“What would be wrong,” You deflect as you zip the bag closed, turning to face him with smile so forced that it hurt.

Looking at Nico was a mistake. The way he was gazing down at you, like he was peeking into the deepest parts of your soul, made your heart skip and that warm feeling bloom in your chest, but you forced all of it down. You’d already made the mistake of letting yourself grasp onto the straws of hope, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“You tell me,” He shrugs, and you can tell that his patience is wearing thin, “I thought– I thought we were going in the right direction this whole time, and then you push me away out of nowhere. I thought you felt the same way, but now I’m confused.”

“Yeah like any of it was even real,” You scoff, shaking your head as you walk around him to avoid looking him in the eye, “Was it real? Or was it all brought out because I was your only option?”

Nico felt like you had slapped him across the face. His eyes narrow in disbelief as your words uncomfortably settle in his chest, but he knows that you’re reacting out of fear. He can tell that something had gotten to you somewhere throughout the dance the two of you had shared, and you’d been spiralling about it ever since. He’d gone over it in his head a dozen times, trying to figure out what he had done, but he came up empty every time. However, your accusation was the last thing he expected to hear.

“Do you really think that–,” His words come out strained, twinging with a kind of vulnerability that made your heart ache, “That I did all of that because you were ‘my only option’? Do you think that’s the kind of person I am?”

You fall onto the bed with a quiet thud, throwing your head into your hands as you try to keep your breathing even and your tears at bay. Nico’s questions ring in your ears so loudly it felt like it was splitting your head in two. Of course that wasn’t the kind of person you thought he was, but you feel like there’s no other explanation.

“I don’t know,” You sharply snap, pushing your palms into your eyes, “It just all seems very convenient. We’ve known each other forever and you’ve never made a move before, so why now?”

Nico’s footsteps softly echo in the room, and you hold your breath as he nears you. He pauses when he’s nearly a foot away from you, the few beats of silence that pass making your stomach twist itself into nearly unmanageable knots. Nico falls to his knees in front of you, his hands hovering over your forearms like he was contemplating whether or not touching you was a good idea. Ultimately, he gently pries your hands away from your face and smothers them with his own.

You press your cheek to your shoulder and squeeze your eyes closed, not wanting him to see your tear stained cheeks or the fractured look in your eyes. You were embarrassed enough as it is, the last thing you need is for him to see how deeply all of this affects you. 

“If you think this wasn’t real for me, you’re wrong,” He begins while caressing the skin of your hand with his thumb, your name delicately falling from his lips, “It’s been real since you came to me and asked me to teach you how to kiss and I told you you needed more practice just so I could kiss you again. It was real when Zack didn’t answer, so you called me crying because your college boyfriend broke up with you, and all I could think about was how I would never do that to you.

“It was real when I planned an entire day of tourist traps when you came to visit me with Zack because, even though he hates them, I knew you’d love them. It’s always been real for me, even if you never saw it.”

You still don’t face him. You can’t. Not when the weight of his words slams into you so harshly it makes your entire body ache. Not when your heart and mind were tugging and pulling at one another, waging an internal battle so intense that you aren’t sure which is going to win. If all of that was true, if Nico truly felt the same way, why had he never said something before?

Probably for the same reason you hadn’t.

“I don’t know what to say,” You whisper, finally letting your eyes flicker to Nico.

He was kneeling in front of you, his hands caressing your own as he peers up at you with soft yet anxious eyes. Nico’s always been one to wear his emotions without sha me, his face and eyes telling a story without him ever opening his mouth. You, on the other hand, had always tried to keep yourself together on the outside, but you can tell that Nico can see right through that facade. He’s always been able to.

“I can’t tell you what to feel, or what to say,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I just hope that you believe me.”

“I want to,” You croak, shaking his hands off yours so you could wipe at your cheeks, “It’s just– Fuck. I feel like a broken record, but I just don’t know. I don’t want to get hurt.”

You said that last part so quietly that Nico almost missed it. Almost. 

“Hey,” His voice is soft, pleading, while his heart clenches in his chest, “The last thing I would ever do is hurt you, I can promise that. When—,” He squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, “When Zack told me we would be sharing a room, the only thing I could think about was how maybe I’d finally get the chance to tell you how I feel about you. To tell you how I’m always thinking of you, always looking for you in everything I see and wishing you were by my side to experience it all.

“But I didn’t want to scare you away, so I tried to be subtle. I looked at you a little longer than necessary. I made up excuses about not knowing that many people just so I could be close to you. I even asked Irene if I could help you with setup, but she told me no. My point is, I’ve been trying this whole time because I’ve liked you for much longer and I—”

Without another thought, you cut him off. You’re grabbing him by the collar of his dress shirt, slamming your lips together as a way to tell him that he doesn’t need to explain himself anymore. You believe him. You want him, even if it absolutely terrifies you.

Nico doesn’t hesitate to return your kiss, his hands flying to cup your jaw and his mouth working against your own to deepen it into something that makes your body feel like it’s on fire. It’s not slow, but it’s not fast, either. He’s taking his time with you, savoring the way your lips feel all over again despite the slight salty taste they had. For a moment, he pulls away, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip as he gazes at you with heavy eyes. He’s looking at you like he was trying to commit your face to memory, and it made you nervous. The kind of nervous that sends bursts of electricity to the lower part of your belly. Before you have a chance to speak, he was crowding back into your space. 

His hands slide to the back of your thighs and, without breaking apart, he lifts you up and takes your place on the bed before he settles you in his lap. He grips at your waist, applying the slightest bit of pressure so you’re slowly, agonizingly slow, grinding down against him while he moves his mouth against you with a purpose. He’s kissing you, fervently, desperately, and you were more than willing to return the favor. Your hands were carding through his hair, tugging at the roots to pull low groans from Nico that made the warmth between your legs become almost unbearable.

“Nico,” You whine against his lips, “Stop that. Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

“Everyone else has done it,” He mumbles, kissing down your jaw until he reaches the expanse of your neck, “Maybe it’s our turn.”

Fuck. Hopefully no one comes looking for you two anytime soon.

You were tucked under Nico’s arm, breathless and a little sticky from the event of what just happened between you. Several events, actually. Three of which happened in the bathroom when you tried to clean up in the shower. So much for that. You figured Nico had high stamina because he was an athlete, but he certainly put your own to the test. 

You match your breathing to the own rise and fall of his chest, mind still a little foggy as the two of you lay together in silence. Nico’s hand was brushing against your spine, making goosebumps form on your skin and your body shudder just from his touch. As you come down from the euphoric feeling, you start to think. 

Think of possibilities, of outcomes and obstacles. While Nico had told you how he felt, you let your emotions take hold before you could ask the one question that could make or break everything. 

“Where do we go from here,” You meekly whisper, your fingers tracing delicate patterns against the planes of his chest.

“Wherever you want,” His arm tightens around you as he brings his other hand to grasp your chin, tilting your head so that he can see your face, “I’ll follow you anywhere

[nvlndrs]

MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE ⋆ SC87

in which sidney comes to some realizations while dancing with you at nate’s wedding. i’m in love with this man😫. this isn’t really summer core but I decided to include it! alexa play ‘you are in love’ by taylor swift

there is something about a man that knows how to hold his woman. a hold that is possessive but still gentle. still makes you feel cherished, admired and loved. sidney was one of those men.

your boyfriend currently had you in one of those holds. one hand clasped firmly on your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your satin dress. the other hand was laid dangerously, confidently and way too comfortably on your lower back.

every so often that hand would dip slightly and brush over your ass, pulling you impossibly closer to him. it was a rare public display of affection that you knew only occurred because sid was a little whiskey drunk and overly happy for his friend.

nate’s wedding had significantly downsized from the enormous social event it had been earlier that day. it hadn’t been nearly as big as it could’ve been, the couple deciding to keep the event private similar to the rest of their relationship thus far. but there was still well over a hundred people in attendance.

it had faded to only a few couples still swaying around the dance floor, including the newly married duo themselves.

“they look so happy,” you remark, nodding to where nate was spinning around his giggling bride. the normally serious man having an easy-going vibe surrounding him that you knew was rare.

“yeah they do,” sid responds almost wistfully. a subtle sadness to his words and his expression that makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask, cradling his freshly-shaven cheek softly.

“nothing,” he states, the word coming out in a resigned sigh.

“if now is the time you wanna admit that you’re actually in love with nate, you’re a tad bit too late bud” you say teasingly, giggling as he glares at you incredulously.

“you’re such a fucking brat,” sid mumbles, burying his face in your neck and teasingly nipping at the skin there, and pressing a gentle kiss before pulling back and continuing your gentle sway that couldn’t even really be called a dance.

“what’s bothering you?” you ask again and sid stops dancing, both hands settling on your waist and holding you tight.

“everyone always talks about how nate tries to follow in my footsteps and how much he looks up to me and how much I’ve influenced him,” sid starts and you wait patiently for him to collect his thoughts.

“and I think tonight I just realized that it’s the other way around. he’s getting married. he wants to start a family. he’s playing the best hockey of his life. he looks happier than he’s ever been. and I can’t help but wonder why I’ve been robbing myself of that all these years. why I’ve been robbing you of that,” he states, a frustrated frown present between his brows

“you haven’t robbed me of anything. you made it abundantly clear that you weren’t planning on getting married or starting a family while you were still playing and I understood and accepted that. happily. I knew what I was signing up for sid,” you retort softly

“but you deserve better! you deserve a dramatic proposal. and a big wedding. and a marriage that other people are disgustingly envious of. you deserve more than a man that dates you for fifteen years and still hasn’t put a ring on your finger,” he says, rubbing a hand over his agitated face. and it’s then that you realize that he’s almost a little angry at you for not asking this of him earlier. for not realizing you deserve better than he was giving you and demanding it of him.

“I knew what I was signing up for. I chose to be in this relationship, and I haven’t regretted a single day of the last fifteen years. not one,” you argue back, slipping both arms around his neck.

“you’re not hearing what I’m saying,” sid replies and you kiss him reassuringly.

“I am. I’m listening and I hear what you’re saying baby, I’m just not gonna let you villainize yourself or our time together based on some ridiculous notion of what could’ve been. we’re not them and they’re not us. we made decisions based on the circumstances we were in at the time. and we can’t change the past sid. I’d marry you tonight. or when you retire. or another fifteen years from now. or never if you decide it’s not in your cards. I’ve never demanded more because I’ve never needed more. I just need you, that’s enough for me. and if you’ve changed your mind and you decide you wanna marry me earlier then I’m more than okay with that too” you say, running your hand through his salt and pepper hair.

“I love you. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to pull my head out of my ass and I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you very soon, I promise. and we’re gonna have lots of kids,” sidney promises, pressing a bunch of kisses to your face as you laugh happily

“I don’t think the world is ready for dad sid yet,” you state fondly, imagining him with a little mini crosby.

“dad sid? oh my God! am I gonna be an uncle? to a mini sid? this really is the best day of my life,” you hear nate say as he comes over and practically yanks sidney out of your grasp and lifts him into a celebratory hug.

yeah, you think, it’s the best day of my life too

[nvlndrs]

idk about everyone else but i personally am DYING to see a snippet/teaser of the lehky/mikko threesome that was referenced in homecoming: craving 😏 i already know that finnish dirty talk went craaaazy 🤭

- @comphy-and-cozy

the way this was simply a concept in my mind when writing Homecoming: Craving. here's a little 1.2k snippet of the... experimental summer you spent with Mikko

warnings: no explicit smut but... it is the beginning of another threesome so proceed with caution. also, while bisexual Mikko was heavily implied in the last, it is no longer an implication in this one.

A gasp escapes you, the sweat rolling down your chest and between your shoulder blades. The air in the sauna is thick, the weight of the humidity heavy on your skin. But the manufactured heat wasn’t the only cause of your breathlessness. And the sensation of Artturi’s hands roving over your body held more weight than the air ever could.

How the fuck you get here, straddling your boyfriend’s best friend in a private sauna?

That was a question you think you would ask yourself for at least the rest of the night. Probably for the rest of your stay in Finland, if you were being honest.

This evening had started as an innocent a birthday celebration which led to more than a few too many bottles of alcohol causing a handsy make out session with your boyfriend Mikko. Then, a murmured wish; an unearthed desire.

It’s his birthday, rakkaani. Do you want to help me make Arsi feel good?

You draw another sharp breath, this one caused by Artturi’s lips closing around your nipples, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin. The bikini top you had previously been wearing was abandoned a while ago, thrown carelessly somewhere in the sauna. Your eyelids flutter as you glance down, watching as Artturi traces his mouth over your chest to your other breast, giving the same attention to the former as he did to the latter. You whine, your hips grinding on their own volition, feeling his length harden underneath you.

“Feels nice, kisu?”

The deep timbre of your boyfriend’s voice draws your attention from one blond Finn to another, Mikko sitting directly behind the two of you. His chest is pressed against Arsi's back, his hands rest heavy on your thighs, holding you in place over Artturi’s lap.

“He’s good with his mouth,” you murmur, a chuckle falling from Mikko.

You watch as his head dips, his lips ghosting over the shell of Artturi’s ear as he whispers to his friend. You can’t quite make out the words, a combination of your own lust-clouded mind and your lack of Finnish skills. Whatever it was, Artturi moans, his lips departing from you, those green eyes flitting up and you can’t help but keen under his awestruck stare – like he didn’t believe this was real.

If you were being honest, you still didn’t believe it either.

“Olet niin kaunis,” he murmurs, his hands running up the sides of your body, tracing every curve deliberately.

You smile, those words sounding familiar, having been muttered by Mikko many times in your relationship. You don’t stop yourself from reaching your own hand out to trace up his bare torso, relishing the way his muscles quiver under your fingernails. Your hand continues to rise until you are cupping his jaw, pulling his lips into yours.

You kiss Artturi with a fiery passion, a shared need, a desire that you can practically feel radiating from Mikko. You press forward, Arsi’s head falling back until it rests on one of Mikko’s strong shoulders. A gasp falls from the Finn beneath you and you can't help but smile into the kiss, knowing exactly what – or more specifically who – caused his reaction.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you pull away, your hand still strong on Artturi’s jaw as your gaze darts over to see Mikko’s lips pressed against the sweat slick skin of his friend’s throat. You watch Artturi’s eyes practically glaze over as Mikko works his sinful magic, marking up his pale skin.

The brush of your thumb over Artturi’s chin draws his eyes back to yours and you smile down at him, the pad of your thumb reaching up to brush against the plumpness of his bottom lip. It starts innocent – you tracing his lips as if you want to commit their shape to memory – but it swiftly changes as you push your finger further into his mouth.

Artturi’s chest heaves in response to your movements as well as Mikko still marring his neck with love bites and wine-dark bruises. You coax his mouth open further, your thumb against the firm muscle of his tongue. It is tentative, how Artturi presses his tongue forward, how his lips wrap around the digit but all hesitancy is abandoned when you smile at him.

“Kulta,” you hear Mikko’s voice call to you, the dangerous edge to his voice causing your eyes to dart over to him. He had pulled away from Artturi’s skin, his gaze trained heavily on the two of you and you can tell the sight arouses him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, baby?” you tease, your head dipping down to press a kiss against the pulse point of Artturi’s neck, right between two darkening marks that Mikko placed. You can feel Lehky’s heartbeat stutter under your soft lips and it takes a decent amount of willpower to pull away, eyes returning to your boyfriend. “Like what you see?”

Mikko’s only response is one of his hands coming to cup the base of your skull, pulling you close enough to crash his lips against yours with a growl. You melt into his kiss, the fire of him incomparable even to the heat still surrounding you.

A whine sounding from underneath the two of you calls your attention, gaze darting to Artturi, his eyes wide as he watches you and Mikko.

You smile, leaning down as you deliberately remove your finger from his mouth.

“Don’t worry, Lehky, we didn’t forget about you,” you murmur against his lips before kissing him again, hips rolling against him.

“Never could,” Mikko mutters in agreement and you lean back, leaving enough space for Artturi to exchange your lips with Mikko’s.

You moan at the sight, one of Artturi’s hands coming up to reach around and rest on the back of your boyfriend’s neck, pulling him closer.  Mikko responds in kind, his hand lifting to replace yours on Artturi’s jawline. The scene makes you weak, your own body reacting to the sight of your boyfriend so thoroughly enjoying every touch, every kiss.

“I get why you like to share,” you mutter, mainly to yourself but the sound of your voice calls to Mikko, still so attuned to you even when caught in someone else’s kiss.

“He’s also yours to enjoy, rakkaani,” Mikko says, his voice heavy with lust.

Your eyes dart to Artturi’s, an eyebrow raised in a soft silent question; one which he responds to similarly with a gentle nod, those green eyes still drinking in your body.

The wicked grin breaks out on your face before you can stop it, your hands finding the planes of Artturi’s chest, trailing down his skin before toying with the ties of his swim trunks. It takes a considerable amount of strength to pull your body away from the delectable heat of two men who clearly desired you. Your knees protest slightly, angry after being pressed into the unforgiving wood of the sauna bench for a considerable amount of time.

But it is all worth it when you sink down between Artturi’s splayed thighs, your eyes darting up to the two blond Finns above you, two pairs of eyes devouring the sight of you.

“Don’t worry,” you say before teasingly leaning in, your hot mouth pressing against Artturi’s length, still confined in fabric. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Artturi’s head fall back, a groan echoing around the wood paneled walls but your entire attention is on your boyfriend – your gorgeous, amazing, deliciously depraved boyfriend.

“I plan to.”

a/n: and shoutout to @comphy-and-cozy for being my deliciously depraved bestie who allows and encourages me to be completely feral!!

[nvlndrs]

JAEHYUN LA Photoshoot Behind

+ bonus

[nvlndrs]

wild @ leafs | 01.29.25

[nvlndrs]

“Big mama” and it’s just ukko.

[nvlndrs]

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

[nvlndrs]

the best day | s. crosby

warnings: some language

summary: Sid comes home after a long road trip and is immediately sucked into the chaos of his three children.

request: Can we get a dad Sid fic, like coming home from a road trip and seeing his family (I personally think he gives boy dad but girl dad Sid is cool too) and just embracing all the chaos of it?? I love ur work!!!

word count: 4.3k

a/n: I had a lot of fun with this one omg. original asker I hope I did your request justice! If not please don’t hesitate to reach out!!! enjoy it guys I have more to come <3

—

The house had been a whirlwind of little feet, snack wrappers, and endless laundry piles for the past ten days. With Sidney gone on his longest road stint of the season so far, you’d had the full reins of the Crosby circus—and while you were used to solo-parenting during stretches of the season, this one had dragged a bit longer than usual. Ten days. Eleven if you counted the departure that had cut breakfast short. But who’s counting?

You had. You’d counted every bath time meltdown, every spilled cup of juice, every "Mom, watch this!" shouted from the top of the couch when you were mid-diaper change. But there was also the good stuff. Mornings where all three of them woke up in a snuggle pile, Luca’s strong five-year-old legs tangled in yours, Alex drooling a little into your shirt, and Mallory cooing with her sleepy curls stuck to her forehead. There were driveway hockey games until it got dark, stick-handling drills taught by Luca to Alex, and Mallory giggling every time someone smacked the puck too hard and hit the garage door.

You’d managed. You always did.

This morning, though, felt different. Lighter. Hopeful. The boys had slept in a bit, worn out from backyard chaos the night before, and Mallory had woken up in one of her chirpy moods—babbling to her bunny plush and banging her chubby fists on the crib mattress like a tiny dictator summoning her kingdom. You’d scooped her up and breathed in her neck, that sweet, warm scent that only a baby can have. You mumbled a quiet, “Dada’s coming home today,” and she’d squealed like she understood.

Now, the house was clean, or as clean as it could be with two boys and a baby, the laundry was done (you had at least three clean loads folded and stacked, even if none of it was put away), and you were walking the boys through the grocery store while Mallory was strapped to your chest in the carrier, tugging on the drawstring of your hoodie with chunky fingers.

“I want to get Daddy the big cookies,” Luca said, skipping ahead a little as you navigated the cart toward the bakery section.

“You always want the big cookies,” you teased, adjusting the strap across your shoulder. “You mean the oatmeal chocolate chip ones?”

He nodded furiously. “The ones with the gooey middles. Daddy said those are his ‘favorite of all time.’” He stretched the words out dramatically, mimicking Sid’s voice.

“Of all time,” Alex repeated, practically bouncing on his toes. “But what if they don’t have them?”

“We improvise,” you said, steering the cart with one hand while gently rubbing Mallory’s back with the other. “You think Daddy’s gonna mind if he comes home to just chocolate chip instead?”

Luca and Alex exchanged a solemn look. “He won’t mind,” Luca said, dragging out the word like it pained him to say it. “But he might be a little bit… disappointed.”

You laughed softly. “Tragic.”

Alex grinned up at you, missing one of his front teeth. “Can I pick out the juice for dinner?”

“As long as it’s not bright blue,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

“Green?”

You shrugged. “Borderline.”

He nodded, satisfied with the challenge.

Mallory shifted against your chest, her face nuzzling into your hoodie before she popped her head back up and looked around, eyes wide like she owned the store. She’d been more and more alert lately— more curious—grabbing at everything, drooling on the straps of her carrier, and trying to mimic every single noise her brothers made. She’d started sort of babbling some version of “dada” the day after Sid left. He’d almost cried on FaceTime when you showed him.

The bakery section smelled like sugar and nostalgia. The boys hovered around the cookie counter, faces pressed close to the glass like little food critics, debating between their usual pick and a seasonal cinnamon one that had sparkles on top.

You leaned over the cart, picking out a pack of the oatmeal chocolate chip. “Let’s stick with what we know,” you said. “Dada doesn’t do glitter cookies.”

Alex pouted. “But I do.”

“You, baby boy, are a glitter cookie,” you said, tapping the tip of his nose.

The woman behind the counter smiled at the boys. “Helping Mom today?”

“We cleaned the house!” Luca said proudly. “I vacuumed all the crumbs. Even under the couch.”

“I put the pillows back,” Alex chimed in. “And I sorted socks. Mommy says it’s ‘em-portant.’”

You laughed again, cheeks warm. “They’ve been my little dream team today.”

“Bet Dad’s excited to come home to that,” the woman said, sliding your pack of cookies across the counter.

“He better be,” you muttered with a grin, checking the time on your phone. Sid’s flight is set to land in half an hour. “Alright, guys, produce section and then we can head out.”

“What’s for dinner?” Luca asked, falling into step beside you, fingers brushing the side of the cart.

You adjusted Mallory again and shrugged. “I was thinking grilled chicken, some potatoes, maybe broccoli. Something easy.”

“But fancy?” Alex asked.

“Fancy enough that Daddy thinks I tried.”

He giggled and grabbed your hand. “You always try, Mommy.”

You blinked, heart skipping in that way it sometimes did when they said things like that out of nowhere. You leaned down to kiss the top of his head, breathing in the faint scent of his apple shampoo and sweat and whatever mess he’d gotten into earlier.

At checkout, Mallory started getting squirmy, so you slipped her out of the carrier and held her on your hip while bagging up the groceries. The cashier commented on her cheeks—as everyone always did—and Mallory responded by blowing a loud raspberry and waving one dimpled hand like a queen. You could already feel the ache in your back from carrying her, but you didn’t mind. Her weight was comfort now. Familiar.

“Can we listen to the playlist Daddy made us?” Luca asked once you were in the car, groceries loaded, all three kids strapped in.

You turned the key in the ignition and smiled. “Of course we can.”

It was a mix Sid had made a few weeks ago. Songs for the boys, mostly. A few for Mallory. Some of them were ones he’d grown up listening to with his own parents and others were just silly tracks the boys liked to dance to. But tucked in the middle were a few quieter ones. The kind that made your throat tight when you listened too closely. The kind that made it clear that Sidney, for all his gruff silence and media polish, was a man head over heels for his family.

As the first song came on, the boys started singing from the back seat, half in tune, half shouting. You glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of them—Luca tapping the rhythm on his thighs, Alex doing some kind of air-drum routine. Mallory leaned against the side of her car seat, thumb in her mouth, eyelids starting to droop.

“Almost home,” you whispered, reaching back and smoothing baby girls' curls. “And Daddy’ll be there soon.”

The idea sent a warm flicker through your chest. The house was ready. The kids were clean. Dinner was planned. The long stretch without him was nearly over.

And that meant, finally, you’d get to slide into his arms again—the one place that still felt like quiet in the middle of all this chaos.

You made a right at the light, headed toward home, already picturing him standing in the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder, that soft tired smile on his face when he saw all four of you waiting.

But that had to wait, because it all fell apart about ten minutes before Sidney was due to walk through the front door.

Dinner was being prepped and simmering on the stove, the smell of garlic and cream and roasted chicken winding through the house like a soft, savory promise. The table was already set, candles unlit but placed—because the boys had insisted on a “fancy welcome home”—with their little plastic forks beside the real ones, and Mallory’s tiny bowl and spoon laid out on her tray. The dishwasher hummed softly in the background. For a few brief minutes, it had almost felt serene.

And then chaos took hold. As usual.

The kitchen clock ticked down from 4:48 and you were elbow-deep in a half-stirred sauce when Alex let out a “HEY!” so loud you flinched and nearly dropped the whisk. You turned just in time to see him pointing an accusatory finger at Luca, who stood guiltily beside the rug, a foam boxing glove slipping off his hand and the long black shaft of Sidney’s stick held awkwardly at his side.

“I said no high shots!”

“It wasn’t high!” Luca shouted back, face flushed and sweaty, curls sticking to his forehead. “It was a wrister!”

“You hit me in the boob!”

You pressed your lips together to avoid laughing, wiping your hands on the dish towel tucked into your waistband. “Okay, that’s enough boxing hockey for one day. Go take the gloves off and pick something else before someone loses a tooth or… gets hit in the chest again.”

They groaned but listened, though not without muttering to each other in that ridiculous hushed whisper they thought you couldn’t hear.

“I didn’t even cry when he hit me.”

“Because you didn’t know I hit you!”

“I did too!”

You just shook your head, returning to the stove. The house smelled good—real food good. Chicken roasting in the oven, potatoes crisping up with garlic and rosemary, broccoli steamed and tossed in butter.

Honestly? You were proud of yourself. You’d handled it all—three kids, one house, two hockey-stick-swinging maniacs, and one teething baby. And the finish line? It was so close.

By the time 4:56 rolled around, the boxing gloves had been abandoned on the kitchen floor (one still attached to a stick, for reasons you would never understand), and the boys had taken up position at the kitchen island in their seats.

“Don’t start without me!” Alex barked, his little hands slamming the counter as you set the box of Jenga in front of them.

“I won’t!” Luca snapped back, already reaching for a piece.

“Guys,” you said, “you always start before each other and it always ends in chaos.”

They both looked at you with wide-eyed innocence. “We’ll be gentle this time.”

You snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Mallory was plopped into her high chair with a soft little oof of protest, which she immediately forgot about as soon as you handed her a stick of celery and one of her favorite teething “toys”. She latched onto both like a woman on a mission, her chubby hands gripping and gnawing while she stared at her brothers like they were the best live-action show on TV.

And of course, the Jenga game devolved into exactly what you expected: chunky little fingers knocking into the tower, Luca pulling from the bottom when Alex said top only, pieces clattering to the floor every three minutes, and you resetting it almost as fast.

“I want the pink one,” Luca said, reaching for a block that didn’t exist.

“There is no pink,” you said.

Alex leaned forward, tongue poked between his lips in concentration. “Okay. Watch this. I’m gonna take this one—”

CLATTER.

They both shrieked.

“Luca moved!”

“No I didn’t! You breathed too hard!”

“Oh my God,” you muttered to yourself as you started stacking again.

You didn’t hear the front door open.

You didn’t hear the shuffle of Sidney’s bag hitting the floor, or his keys hitting the little ceramic dish by the entryway, or the sound of his footsteps padding down the hall.

You did hear his voice though.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. Just that familiar, calm tone that made something in your chest go loose and warm all at once.

You turned around before the boys even registered it, cheeks already warm and tired eyes blinking at the sight of him.

He looked like home.

Coat on, Polo soft and wrinkled from the plane, scruff thick on his jaw. And that smile—that smile—crooked and quiet and just for you.

You didn’t even say anything. You crossed the kitchen in a couple steps and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the side of his neck as he dropped everything to hug you back.

His arms came around you with that familiar pressure—solid and safe and strong enough to hold it all.

“Hi,” you mumbled, eyes stinging for no reason except the fact that he was here. Finally.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered into your hair.

You pulled back only enough to kiss him—slow and soft and lingering. He leaned into it, hands warm on your waist, and it was the kind of kiss that made the whole world fade for a second. Made it feel like just the two of you again.

Which, naturally, did not go unnoticed.

“Yuck,” came Alex’s voice from behind you. “They’re doing kissing again.”

“Ewwwwwwww,” Luca echoed with genuine horror.

You pulled away laughing, forehead still pressed to Sid’s cheek as you mumbled, “You’ve been gone a week and they’ve turned into full-blown critics.”

“Did they say ‘again’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked past you.

“Multiple times,” you said. “Apparently I’m not allowed to kiss my own husband.”

“Terrible rule,” he said, turning just in time to see the boys finally launching out of their seats like rockets.

“YAY!”

“YOU’RE HOME!”

It was chaos.

Luca tripped over the boxing glove still attached to the stick and barely caught himself. Alex rounded the corner like a linebacker and nearly took out the island stool. Mallory shrieked so loudly from her chair it sounded like a fire alarm.

And Sidney?

He laughed. That warm, crinkly-eyed, can’t-help-it laugh you missed so much.

“What happened to my quiet, peaceful house?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You had a quiet, peaceful house. Until you gave me three miniature versions of yourself.”

He crouched just in time to catch them both—Alex hitting him first, arms around his neck, followed by Luca flinging his entire body into his side like a WWE move.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy!” Sid said, laughing, nearly toppling backward. “You guys get stronger while I’m gone?”

“Did you bring candy?”

“Did you see my drawing?”

“Did you win?”

“Did you eat gross hotel food?”

Sid looked up at you from the floor, both boys wrapped around him like clingfilm, and grinned. “Have they been like this all week?”

“This is them mild,” you said.

Mallory had both fists banging against her tray now, little body shaking with excitement.

“Da-da-da-da-da!”

Sidney’s head snapped toward her instantly. “Is she saying—?”

“Nonstop,” you confirmed.

He stood up slowly, still holding Luca on one hip while Alex dangled from his arm like a koala. “Hey, bug,” he cooed. “Did you miss Daddy?”

She squealed and flapped and you quickly unclipped her from the chair, setting her on the floor where she immediately made a beeline for him with her unsteady crawl.

“Go get him, baby girl,” you said softly, watching the entire scene unfold with your heart basically trying to melt through your ribs.

Sid crouched again, arm out, and Mallory threw herself into him with her little head tucked under his chin and her fingers tangled in his shirt.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, holding all three of them like he’d never let go. “How did I survive ten days without this?”

“I have no idea,” you said, arms crossed, watching your family pile on top of each other like a bunch of overexcited puppies. “Because I barely did.”

He smiled up at you. “Come here.”

“I’ve got the potatoes—”

“I don’t care.”

You laughed and leaned down to kiss his cheek, brushing Mallory’s wild hair out of her eyes, as the boys started shouting over one another again about Jenga and boxing hockey and who got to sit next to him at dinner.

Chaos.

Absolute, beautiful chaos.

After a few minutes Sidney took Mallory and changed her into fresh pajamas with tiny skating penguins on them, her curls fluffier. Now they were curled up on the sofa. Dinner was twenty minutes out, which meant you should’ve been pouring drinks, pulling the rolls from the bag and—

“Can we play hallway hockey with Daddy?” Alex asked breathlessly, like it was the most urgent ask in the world.

Luca popped around the island a half second later. “Please can we, Mama? Please? Just a quick one.”

You glanced toward the living room where Sid was stretched out on the couch, baby Mallory splayed across his chest like a starfish, her little legs twitching in her nap.

“She just fell asleep,” you whispered.

“Not asleep,” Sid called from the couch, eyes still closed. “She’s fake-sleeping. I know the difference.”

You raised an eyebrow, walked over, and gently poked her squishy thigh. Sure enough, her eyes popped open like she’d just been waiting for the cue.

“Traitor,” you said to her as she kicked happily.

Sid sat up slowly, shifting her upright against his chest. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The boys cheered and bolted down the hallway toward the front closet, already shouting over each other about who was going to be goalie first.

Sid came into the kitchen, tightening the baby carrier straps around his chest as you handed Mallory over, now fully alert and giggling like she already knew what she was in for.

“You’re playing with her strapped on?”

“Obviously,” he said. “Moral support.”

“She’s gonna whack you in the face with her stick.”

“She’s team captain,” he grinned, reaching into the utensil drawer. “Where’s her stick?”

You handed over the mini pink foam stick from the play bin by the pantry. She immediately grabbed it like she knew exactly what she was doing. Which, of course, she didn’t.

He raised his brows as he looked down at her. “You ready, coach?”

Mallory gave a mighty eeeeeh! and wiggled in his grip like she was being prepped for battle.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, smiling like an idiot as you watched all of them march back into the hallway.

Alex had already rolled out their makeshift foam puck. They had the mini goals set up—one by the base of the stairs and the other near the mudroom. The hallway was long and had scuffed baseboards that bore the full history of rainy days, inside soccer, and countless rounds of “puck tag.”

“I brought you my lucky stick,” Alex announced proudly, handing over a slightly worn, knee-high blue hockey stick with his name and a Lightning McQueen sticker on it.

Sidney took it, crouching down just a little so he was at eye level with him. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You’ll need it.”

Sid looked at you over Alex’s head and mouthed, I’m gonna pay for this tomorrow.

You stifled a laugh. “Stretch first,” you called. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I never warm up,” he said, already crouching low. “We go in raw.”

“That’s what got us three kids, genius,” you muttered to yourself.

The first few minutes were pure chaos. Shrieking. So much shrieking.

Luca and Alex took off at full speed like the rules of physics didn’t apply. Sid, kneeling to try and keep pace with them (and not decapitate someone with a stick meant for a child), held Mallory against his chest while she swung her foam blade enthusiastically into the air, catching him in the jaw twice and barely missing an eye on the third swing.

“I think she’s trying to fight me,” he grunted.

“She’s training to be a goon,” you called from the doorway.

“She gets that from you,” he said, ducking as Luca ran past him with the puck.

You watched like it was the Stanley Cup Final. The game didn’t have real rules. It never had. It was basically a free-for-all of slapping the foam puck back and forth, calling out nonsensical play-by-plays, and celebrating every single goal like it was a game-winner.

At one point, Alex tripped over his own feet, face-planted into the carpet, popped up, and yelled, “I’m okay!” before charging again.

Luca scored the first goal. Sidney was clearly going easy, dramatically whiffing a few shots and groaning like the boys were too fast for him.

“Mallory!” Alex shouted. “Your team’s losing!”

“She’s conserving her energy,” Sid said. “Like a real MVP.”

“She’s just chewing her stick!” Luca argued.

“She’s multitasking.”

But around the five-minute mark, the tides turned.

You could see it in the way Sid’s shoulders shifted—he was still kneeling, still careful, but now his posture had just a little more purpose.

He blocked a shot with his thigh. Poked the puck away from Luca with a grin.

“Oh no,” Alex shouted. “He’s trying now!”

“Yup,” Sid grunted.

“I knew this would happen!” Luca wailed dramatically.

“What happened to being nice?” Alex asked, running across the hallway to guard the net.

Sid raised an eyebrow. “You guys said this was real hockey.”

Luca dove toward the puck, missing by inches. Alex swung his stick a little too wide trying to block it. Mallory shrieked joyfully from her perch as Sidney tapped the puck right past both boys and into their goal.

“GOOOOOAL!” he yelled, lifting Mallory’s tiny hand into the air like she was raising the Cup.

“I saw that!” Alex cried. “You can’t do that! Mallory didn’t even do anything!”

“She’s literally on the ice, buddy,” Sid said through a grin. “It counts.”

“Rematch!” Luca shouted.

They regrouped and came back stronger—charging, giggling, half tackling him at one point. Mallory squealed when Luca slid on his socks into her dad’s shins.

You leaned in, recording on your phone, heart so stupidly full you thought it might melt into your socks.

“Water break!” Alex shouted seven minutes in, flopping dramatically onto the hallway floor.

Sid stood above them, sweaty curls stuck to his forehead, Mallory gnawing her stick and making wet sounds of approval.

“You guys are brutal,” he said.

“You cheated,” Luca replied, chest heaving.

“I’m just good,” Sid teased, tapping his stick on the ground.

Sid grabbed his water glass from earlier and passed it around. Mallory reached for it, so he tilted the glass toward her carefully, letting her wet her lips while she smacked at the cup.

Then—without warning—Luca darted up again, grinning like a bandit.

“NO BREAKS,” he yelled. “SURPRISE ATTACK!”

He hurled himself forward with the puck, and Alex met him with an equal lunge, the two of them smacking sticks, laughing and tangled, the puck ricocheting toward the side wall.

Sid went to intercept, adjusting Mallory’s carrier as he moved. “Here we go—Daddy with the breakaway!”

The boys collapsed into a pile in front of the net, groaning dramatically, sticks tangled beneath them. Mallory, clearly sensing the victory, squealed and bounced in her carrier harness, clapping her tiny hands.

“I think you broke them,” you said, checking the timer. “One minute.”

And that’s when it happened.

The final face-off. The boys were panting, flushed, eyes wild with determination. Sid crouched low, dropped the puck, and before you could blink, both boys lunged at it.

Luca’s stick got there first.

Unfortunately, so did his elbow.

There was a little stumble, a clumsy collision of limbs, and then Alex was on his butt, blinking fast.

“Uh oh,” you murmured, setting your phone down and stepping in—but then—

“My tooth!”

Alex lit up.

“Wait! My tooth!”

Sid immediately dropped his stick, crouching down. “Let me see.”

Alex opened his mouth, and sure enough—blood on his bottom lip, and a tiny gap where his front tooth used to be.

Luca gasped. “I did it! I knocked it out!”

“It was already wiggly!” Alex said quickly. “You helped!”

Sid blinked. “You okay, bud? That didn’t hurt too bad?”

Alex shook his head proudly. “Nope. I’m a hockey player now!”

You handed Sid a tissue, and he gently cleaned Alex’s mouth while Mallory made grabby hands toward her brother’s face.

“I’m gonna put it under my pillow,” Alex said, voice muffled. “And then the Tooth Fairy will come and bring me a million dollars.”

“She usually does like, a couple bucks,” you said cautiously.

“I’m getting a million,” Alex declared.

“I want a tooth to fall out too!” Luca added, sticking his finger in his mouth.

You leaned back, checking the time on the oven.

“Okay, future millionaires—go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready in like thirty seconds.”

The boys scrambled down the hallway—Alex carefully cradling his tooth in a tissue, Luca babbling about which tooth he should “wiggle the hardest.”

Sid stood, adjusting Mallory’s carrier again. “I think your son just made his NHL debut.”

“I saw,” you laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “Might want to ice your knees later.”

“Worth it,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That was the best game I’ve played in months.”

You smiled, heart fluttering, and reached for Mallory’s tiny foot to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Good game, Captain.”

She squeaked, still clutching her chewed-up foam stick like a trophy.

And just like that, the oven beeped.

Dinner was ready.

The house smelled like home.

And your whole team was back together.

The boys had already started arguing about who would sit next to Daddy for dinner. Ten minutes ago, you had a clean, quiet house.

Now?

Your sons were sticky, sweaty, and missing teeth.

Sid was limping just slightly.

Mallory’s hair looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel.

And dinner smelled like heaven.

Everything—everything—was exactly how it should be.

—

[nvlndrs]

You know that trend on tiktok about girls asking their boyfriends how mad they would be if a guy complimented them? i immediately thought of kells and how he would react

It's too hot and it's making me not want to write or do anything! Curses of having an old house designed to retain heattttt Requests are open for specific people only, please see my pinned post for details :) Writing Masterlist

You're not much of a poster on social media, but you are a watcher and sometimes you get shown those viral trends...you've seen more of the 'my current boyfriend' videos than you have fingers and toes at this point...and it's silly that you want to recreate it, especially when you know you're not going to film it or post it anywhere.

But, you can't get the idea out of your head...wondering how Clayton will behave, whether he'll care or not...it's stupid because you know that if you don't get the reaction you want, if he doesn't really notice, you'll be upset about it. It feels like setting yourself up for failure, expecting something you might not get from a man who's utterly secure in your relationship.

That doesn't stop you though when you're on the phone with your doctor's office within ear shot of Clayton, who's scrolling through his phone on the couch.

"Yeah, 2 o'clock's fine, my current boyfriend can drop me off." You don't look at him directly, just watch him from your peripheral vision as his head snaps up, eyes locked on you as the narrow. He doesn't interrupt your phone call, just puts his phone down, stands and waits until you hang up.

"What do you mean current?" He's crowding your space the moment you're off the phone, stepping into your personal little bubble, pursed lips, frustrated little furrow between his eyes that screams that you're in trouble with him.

"Mmm?" You play dumb, shifting look at him all wide eyed and innocent like you don't realise what you just called him. Clayton knows better though, narrow his eyes further, stepping as close to you as he can get, close enough that you take a step back, lip twitching to contain a smile.

"You said current boyfriend, baby?"

"Well, you're my boyfriend right now. Like my current boyfriend?" You're unable to contain your smile any longer, lips turning upwards at the edges and it's impossible for Clay to not smile back even as he keeps his eyes narrow, even as he tries to be annoyed at you.

"No, no..." Clay's walking you backwards, each step he takes forcing you to take a giggly step back until your back hits the wall. He leans over you, on hand on the wall just above your head, the other falling to your hip. You freeze like a deer in headlights, face flushing, body warming, an undeniable giddy little buzz in your tummy, "I'm your forever boyfriend actually, I'm your future husband, no current about it, baby."

"Bu-" You're not even sure why you're trying to protest like you're not elated that he's just said that, like this isn't what you wanted his reaction to be.

"Nope, see?" Clay's hand leaves your hip, dipping into the pocket of his jeans. He pulls a ring box out like he's been carrying it around for days, weeks, and the truth is he has been carrying it for months, waiting for the right time to ask. God, he's been waiting it feels like since the 3 month mark of your relationship, over eager, already fully set on you for life

"Clay..." Your mouth drops, voice soft, shocked and awed as your eyes zero in on that ring box, that promise.

"No, no i'm serious, i'm your forever boyfriend, okay?"

"Are you proposing to me right now?" You need the clarity, unsure if this is him just being silly or if...or if he's actually asking you right now while you're in your lazy casual clothes, leant against a wall.

"No, I'm telling you that I will be proposing at an undisclosed future date, baby, so I can then be your forever husband." When you look back up he's grinning at you, that dimple on the right side of his cheek on full display, teeth peeking out from behind his lips, eyes crinkled and soft. You can't help the fact you start to get a little choked up, eyes starting to water, lip starting to tremble slightly.

"You're going to make me cry..."

"You're the one that started that 'current boyfriend' bullshit."

"I was joking!"

[nvlndrs]

Baja be thy blast

Having a nap earlier in the day seemed like a good idea. But now it was one am and your stomach was growling. You managed to walk into your local Taco Bell still half asleep. You watched a guy walk in and he seemed to be as awake as you were.

They called your food out and you slightly brushed hands with the mystery guy as he reached for it at the same time. “You don’t look a y/n to me.” You spoke breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Huh oh sorry. But I’ll have you know I would make a pretty cute y/n.”

You both laughed harder than you normally would have at his reply. The tiredness you were both feeling and the disorienting atmosphere of Taco Bell at 1 am brought out the giddiness of both of you.

As you started to eat unwrap your food you heard the guy speak up again. “Eww that’s what you ordered?? I’m glad you stopped me from picking up your order.”

You looked at your order and back at his “you literally ordered the same thing as me in a different format.”

“Well you got me there.” He replied with a giggly smirk.

Your dinner was spent bantering back and forth with the random guy. But he was sweet in his own way and insisted on walking you to your car to take sure no weird creeps bothered you. You thought about the irony to yourself that the weird guy wanted to protect you from any other weird guys.

“See you around Taco Bell thief.” You spoke before he closed your door. You watched him clarify he was not a thief with his arms crossed and a dramatic pout before leaving the parking lot.

It became a routine that you’d run into him at least once a week. It got to a point you didn’t know if you were coming for the food or the chance to see him again.

One day your work ended later than normal thus making your nap longer than normal. You woke up kind of sad figuring mystery guy wouldn’t be at Taco Bell that late.

You sadly went to your booth and were surprised to hear a familiar “hey stranger.” and the sound of another tray hitting your table. “Oh I didn’t think you’d be here this late.” You replied a little more eager than you meant to and hoped he didn’t catch on.

“Yeah my practice ran later than usual and my nap was longer than normal.” A yawn escaped halfway through his sentence. “How about you why are you here later than normal? Did you wait for me to come in?” He asked with a wink.

You rolled your eyes and laughed “no I had a deadline come up at work and had to work longer and my nap lasted longer too.”

“Sounds stressful. What do you do?”

You explained your job to Seth and he listened while eating.

“What about your practice what’s that all about?”

“Ah hockey.” He replied nonchalant and immediately asked another question about you.

The two of you went back and forth actually getting to know each other this time.

“Do you want my number and we can actually make this a date date next time?” Seth’s question made your heart skip a beat and a blush crept onto your face. You handed him your phone with the contact page pulled up while momentarily hiding your face.

“Talk to you soon stranger.” He winked again as he closed your car door and watched you leave the parking lot safely.

You looked at your contacts and laughed at the fact he saved himself in your phone as “Taco Bell thief”

And that day officially started yours and Seth’s relationship.

[nvlndrs]

Lessons in Chemistry (Part 1) - Matt Martin

Pairing: single dad!Matt Martin x Reader

Summary: They say there's nothing hotter than a DILF. Especially a single one. Unfortunately for you, the one you've found also happens to be the father of your student.

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: Mentions of divorce and alcohol consumption. Adult/sexual content (18+ ONLY); mentions of previous hook-up (unprotected sex, public sex), fingering (f receiving) in a semi-public space, questionable decisions, references to future smut.

NEXT PART → ← BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

As a fifth year kindergarten teacher, you’ve been around the block. Over the years you've learned a lot of lessons—you're still finding macaroni and glitter from that one art project 2 years ago—and for the most part, you've got a good handle on how you approach the school year.

Despite that, one thing remains consistent: Open houses are always nerve wracking. They're a temperature check for how the year might go, your first opportunity to meet students as well as their parents. The immense pressure, the desire to ensure that your first impression is a good one, never gets any easier; and, for all of your experience, you've still never figured out how to ease the feeling.

This year, there's an extra layer while prepping for the Wednesday night Open House. As you flit around your classroom, finalizing the decorations and ensuring each desk has the proper name tags on them, you catch yourself smiling like a fool. You wouldn't be surprised if you started humming. There's a pep in your step and a feeling of ebullience that can't be replicated.

You know why: you had the best sex of your life the other night.

Like, toe curling, eyeball rolling, leg shaking kind of good. The kind that brings every other lover to shame. That makes colors seem brighter and your body hum with warmth.

And he was hot. So fucking hot. Tall, huge biceps, and a kind of lazy, teasing smile that makes your skin heat up just by thinking of it, even now.

In any other circumstance this would be welcome news. Except instead of rejoicing, you’re… annoyed. Pissed off. Kicking yourself.

You’re annoyed because you didn’t get his number. You didn’t even get his name, come to think of it. You had the best fuck of your entire life—against the door of his truck in a dive bar parking lot, no less—with a man that you have no way of contacting again.

So now, all of the things that come with that just-been-fucked glow aren’t even something you can appreciate because all they do is remind you that you’ll never be able to feel his enormous hands gripping your hips or the most delicious stretch between your thighs again.

And though it was one night, you already know that you’ll be comparing all of your future escapades to the stranger who got away.

Glancing at your watch, you take one more walk around your classroom, ensuring that everything is in place. You know you have to banish all thoughts of that man from your brain for the next two hours and plaster your best kindergarten teacher smile on. There's a gentle throb between your legs in protest, but, with a silent promise that afterwards, you'll unwind with the toy in your bedside table, you're able to fully morph into Teacher Mode.

The first hour passes quickly, families trickling in slowly at first and then suddenly your classroom is very full, the sound of voices echoing off of the alphabet and number posters stapled to your walls.

There's a brief lull in the crowd, and you take a moment to take a sip of your water. In the fleeting moment of your breather, thoughts of Best Sex of Life Guy leech back into your head. A roll around with him after a night like tonight would heal you biblically.

A blonde woman approaches your desk, cutting your daydream short when she introduces herself. "Maddie Martin."

You shake her hand and smile. She tells you that her daughter, Kinsley, is one of your new students.

Maddie glances at her watch. "She should be here with Matt—my ex—soon."

Years of sorority recruitment have perfected your small talk skills, which you use with Maddie, telling her about your annual lesson plan and learning about Kinsley's her tree nut allergy along with her favorite activities (swimming, coloring, and watching Daddy play hockey).

And then, almost like he was conjured just by the thought of him, you glance up and the object of your affections is standing in front of you. You blink, sure that he's just a figment of your imagination, but then Maddie is speaking, introducing him. "This is my—this is Kinsley's dad, Matt."

You're surprised sparks don't literally fly out when your hand shakes his. Flames wick through your body in an instant, like a chemical reaction of his skin pressed against yours. And based on the way he’s looking at you, he feels the kindle burning just the same.

"Nice to meet you," he says with that same lopsided smile that had you on your knees in the parking lot. His blue eyes simmer with recognition. I've been looking for you.

"You, too," you reply back, feeling the tingle even after he releases your hand.

"Kins, c'mere and get your coat on," Matt calls, pulling out the small pink raincoat from the closet. Little footsteps sound down the hallway and he can't help the smile that breaks out on his face at the sight of his daughter pattering toward him.

"Where are we going again?" she asks, sticking one arm at a time into the sleeves of the coat that he holds up for her.

"We're going to your kindergarten open house. That means we are going to see your new school and your classroom and meet your teacher."

"Is Mommy going to be there?"

"We're going to meet Mommy there, and then you're going to go home with her because I'm going to training camp tomorrow," Matt explains, picking up her to-go back that's by the back door.

Kinsley’s face falls. “How long will you be gone?”

“Only a couple days,” he says, “and then we can have a slumber party and watch Moana.”

He holds up his wrist, showing her the beaded bracelet she’d made him, 'DADDY' spelled out in white letters flanked by a mixture of blue and orange beads. She'd made it for him before one of his road trips last year, and he returned the favor by making her a matching one. They agreed to wear it when they were apart, so she'd always have a piece of him with her, but he'd grown used to wearing it and never really took it off.

Kinsley's smile is wide, revealing the gap from her first lost tooth. Matt's seen a lot of teeth lost in his line of worth, has lost a few of his own, but he has to admit that Kinsley definitely looks the cutest with a gap in her smile.

Once they arrive at the school, Matt takes Kinsley's hand and walks inside with her. He follows the signage directing him to Kinsley's classroom, where he scans in search of a blonde head. Once he spots Maddie, he leads Kinsley over to her and offers a cordial greeting.

And then he looks up and sees her. His heart plummets and his dick throbs the moment their eyes connect. There's a flash of recognition, of the mutual memory of their rendezvous, a secret for just them two to share. He hears Maddie saying something, giving their practiced explanation for their separation arrangement—Kinsley lives with her mom, but stays with him during his home stands in-season and for the majority of the summer—but it's all he can do to stop himself from staring at her.

He eventually manages to pull himself together, partly due to the fact that his hand is being tugged by a much smaller one. "Daddy! Help me find my desk!"

Matt offers an apologetic smile, grateful for an excuse to step away from her suffocating presence, before he's pulled down the first row, then the second. Kinsley smiles with a nervous excitement when she finds her desk, sitting down in the chair as if to see what it feels like. Matt pulls out his phone and snaps a picture, feeling shaken from his surprising, albeit brief, interaction.

Maddie appears while Kinsley is inspecting the bookshelf, ready with her analysis. "I like her. She's really sweet. This is her fifth year teaching kindergarten."

He nods in approval and dares to flick his gaze over to the topic of his conversation. The woman who made him come so hard he saw stars.

Matt's jerked off more times than he can count to the memory of the way she looked pressed against the door of his truck, the tightest cunt he's ever felt gripping him like a vice. She's been on his mind almost as much as Kinsley the last few days, trying to dig in the depths of his memory for anything he can find that might help him find her.

And now, he has. And she's his daughter's kindergarten teacher.

He resists the urge to groan. Because of course she is.

The sex was that good. And they had chemistry. Like, that kind of chemistry that leads to babies and wedding rings. He'd know—Kinsley is living proof of that.

But now? All of that just went up in flames because of the little girl wearing a bracelet matching the one on his wrist. Kinsley, who seems to know just when to say the perfect thing. "She's really pretty!"

Matt forces a smile, doing his best to resist the gravity that's pulling him back toward the woman on the other side of the room. He wonders what she's thinking about, what she's feeling—if she feels the same undeniable spark that he does.

She has to. It's cosmic. Groundbreaking. Earth-shattering.

Matt and Maddie walk around the rest of the classroom with Kinsley, admiring the setup and letting her chatter away her excitement about starting school. Nerves haven't seemed to set in, might not come for her at all; he's glad that at least one of them didn't seem to have any anxiety about what starting school means for her.

Outside, Matt says goodnight to Kinsley, handing her bags to Maddie. He waves goodbye and watches their car drive out of the parking lot. A glance at his watch tells him it's nearing 8 o'clock.

The open house ends in 10 minutes.

Inevitably, his mind trails back to the woman inside. He can't help but laugh at the irony of the situation.

It would be good to clear the air, he thinks. Address the elephant in the room.

Or at least, that's what he tells himself as he's walking back in through the front doors of the school. He lingers for a few minutes before approaching her classroom, contemplating what he should say to her.

She's alone, tidying up the classroom after the chaos of the last few hours. Matt knocks on the metal frame of the open door to announce his entrance. When she looks up, he watches her expression shift, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Hi, there."

His voice is still that sultry, gravelly purr that makes your pussy throb, though maybe it has less of a slur than before. Standing in the doorway, nearly as tall as the frame itself, his muscular arm resting against the metal.

"Hi, Mr. Martin."

The lopsided smirk curls up on his face. "I uh, didn't catch your name before."

You tuck the stray chairs into the desks, hiding the shiver that runs through you at the memory of before. The urge to laugh at the awkwardness of getting someone's name after you've slept with them is strong, but you manage to swallow it before replying, "Likewise."

He steps into the room further, then gestures around. "D'you need any help cleaning up?"

"Actually," you say, "could you help me move that table?"

You're not sure what happened next, but soon you're pressed against the shelves in the teacher's supply closet, Matt's lips sucking a mark beneath your ear. Your hands card through his hair, roaming over the large curve of his biceps, doing your best to swallow your whimper.

Feeling his skin against yours is a pleasure you had already mourned the loss of, which makes each pass of his tongue over the sensitive flesh on your neck feel like a stolen indulgence. Matt’s hands dig into your hips, gripping tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away and disappear again.

At least this time, you know where to find him.

Your head falls back—nearly knocking into the cardboard box full of glue sticks—when one of Matt’s thick thighs slots its way between your legs. This position is familiar, except last time you were pressed against the cool metallic of his Ford F-150 rather than the hard, metal shelves inside a dimly lit supply cabinet, the only light streaming in through a very small horizontal window in the door.

Your cardigan hangs loosely off your frame, revealing your arms. Matt’s fingers deftly slip the garment the rest of the way off your body. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Thought I was never gonna see you again,” he murmurs against your neck, where he’s begun to alternate nips and licks.

A breathless nod is all you can muster, his large hands cupping your backside and offering a generous squeeze. The throb between your legs has returned, and this time, there’s a desperation now that it’s been awoken under his all-knowing touch.

“Thought I was gonna have to jerk off thinking about your cunt for the rest of my life.”

This time, his filthy words elicit a strangled moan from your throat. His confession gives you confidence to make one too. “I haven’t stopped thinking about your cock since Saturday.”

A low chuckle sounds against your stomach and he glances up at you. There’s a cockiness in his eyes, one that tells you he knows exactly how well he rocked your world. “No?”

The rest of his response is nonverbal, standing up and pressing his hips into you so you can feel the member in question, hard beneath the expensive denim of his jeans. Another moan escapes at the mere feel of it.

Matt groans, crushing his lips against you again. “You want it? Want me to bend you over? Right here, in the supply closet?”

Each probe has your pussy throbbing with want. You know you shouldn’t—it’s wrong, and unprofessional on so many levels. But the school is probably entirely empty by now, families long gone and teachers all filed out for the evening. And you’ve been dreaming—fantasizing—about seeing him again, feeling him again.

You want him so bad you can barely think straight.

“Don’t think I can wait til we get home,” you breathe.

“As badly as I’d like to take you over your desk, I don’t think us getting caught is an ideal way to start the school year,” he says, infusing just a touch of sense back into your lust-laden brain. Even as he says it, though, one of his large hands dips past the waistband of your pants. The air in your lungs freezes, mouth opening to allow his tongue access while he toys with the hem of your panties.

Slowly, his fingers unbutton your pants, even more slowly dragging the zipper down the teeth; he allows you the time to protest and stop him if you want.

But you don’t want him to stop.

With more room, Matt’s hand slips back into the front of your pants, cupping your heat. The touch alone, even through your panties, makes you rock into him, craving more, seeking that same pleasure and passion and fire you had the other night. His lips curl up into his lopsided smile, a soft chuckle falling out as one finger begins to stroke you gently.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. His voice is a sultry purr that has moisture pooling between your thighs, right against the pad of his finger.

“Matt,” you whisper, his name feeling strange coming out of your mouth in such a wanton, desperate sigh. His answer is a soft hum, finger continuing to lazily trace over the outline of your center, collecting the slick that’s begun to soak into the cotton.

Your hands trail up his arm, over the firm muscle of his bicep underneath the fabric of his cream-colored polo. It flexes under your touch as his hand continues to tease between your thighs.

His lips trail along your jawline, breathing heat over your skin and sending goosebumps cascading down your spine. “Fucking soaked for me, baby.”

Your hips press forward, desperate for more, wanting to feel him in your achingly empty core. Even his fingers, which are thicker than you’ve ever seen, won’t be enough—not after you’ve seen and felt him pressing into you, splitting you open and stretching you so wide you ached deliciously for almost two days.

Matt’s hand explores further, dancing over your mound. Your clit throbs in anticipation of being touched.

“I’m gonna take you back to my place and fuck you until the sun comes up,” he whispers, voice low and heady and full of sinful promise. “But first, I’ll give you something to tide you over until then.”

Something between a gasp and a moan leaves your mouth, hand gripping tightly onto the upper part of his bicep when his finger finally, finally brushes against the bundle of nerves that’s been vibrating with anticipation of his touch. He lets out another low chuckle, pleased with the way your body responds to even the smallest of touches.

“So responsive,” he coos. “I can’t wait to get you all spread out in my bed.”

The thought heats you from the inside out. Your half-cleaned classroom and the ever-growing to-do list that’s inevitable just weeks before the school year begins is a distant thought, pushed out of the way by the large and looming figure and the burgeoning erection pressed against your hip.

Just as Matt’s hand begins to descend further into your panties, the sound of a door slamming has your entire body freezing, your senses jolted by a rush of fear and panic. His other hand claps over your mouth, urging you to stay quiet. Down the hall, the voices of your coworkers echo distantly, the sound of their footsteps coming closer.

Your eyes lock with his, heart threatening to beat out of your chest as the voices and conversation become clear enough for you to identify them as that of your Principal and fellow teacher. Matt’s hand stills, his fingers poised at your entrance in such a way that you know you’re dripping down his hand.

The voices hit their peak just outside the door, so close that you’re sure one of them is going to open it to grab something. Your heart thuds in your chest, frozen in place, saying a final, desperate prayer.

And then, just like that, the voices begin to fade, walking further down the hall.

Sensing that the coast is clear and that you’re no longer at risk of jeopardizing your location by making noise, Matt releases his hand from your mouth. The one in your panties follows soon after, though that one goes straight to his own mouth. His tongue sticks out to lick off your essence, humming with pleasure at the taste of you.

He doesn’t seem to be fazed by your close encounter, instead eyeing you hungrily. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I—we can’t—” you splutter, the combination of adrenaline, fear, and arousal coursing through your system muddying your brain. Words jumble in your mouth, heart still pounding in your chest. "Matt—"

But Matt’s already in action. "I’ll sneak out. If I run into them, I’ll say you and I got caught up discussing my schedule and I stopped to use the restroom on my way out. You can leave here with some supplies for the classroom."

Somehow, amid the fogginess, his words click and you nod, accepting your assignment. Before you can say anything, he’s pulling out his phone, the brightness of his screen illuminating the dark space. He hands it to you, the number pad open on his screen.

"Give me your number. I’ll text you my address."

You take the phone, blinking stupidly. He takes your pause as hesitation, adding, "That is, if you still want to…"

The angel on your left shoulder is screaming at you to cut this off now, before things get messy. Bid him farewell, go home, finish that bottle of wine, and spend the rest of the night with your vibrator between your legs, thoughts of his lopsided smile etched into your brain.

But then the devil on your right shoulder reminds you of his words from earlier, echoing through your mind: I’m gonna take you back to my place and fuck you until the sun comes up. The memory of his hand between your thighs, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin, sinks back in and pours gasoline on the already burning flame inside of you.

"How far do you live from here?"

Author's Note: Happy Father's Day to my favorite DILF! This idea came to me in a fever dream and the next thing I knew I had an outline and an entire backstory. So, I guess this is an unofficial series. Part 2 coming soon! S/O to @smileysvech for answering some of my questions about kindergarteners 😅

[nvlndrs]

hi :) so happy for you hitting 250 followers!!! i have a request for auston so it can for sure wait until your done with the celebration fics lol. but i was wondering if you could write something based on the song packing it up by gracie abrams. just something cute about auston and reader not looking for something serious but then they cross paths :,) thanks!

Packing it up – Auston Matthews

word count: 1.5k

pairing: Auston Matthews x female!reader

warnings: none

authors note:

you know I always love to write for my favorite hockey man

part of my 250 followers celly

---------------------

You weren’t looking for anything.

That was the agreement you made with yourself the night you decided to move back to Toronto.

The job was solid, the apartment was temporary, and your heart? Officially under construction, maybe forever.

After one too many almost and one too many too-long, too-wrong relationships that left you feeling like an extra in your own life, you were done signing up for things you couldn’t return.

When one of your girlfriends dragged you out for a birthday party downtown – some NHL guy´s thing – you made it clear that you were just there for the free thinks and maybe the cake.

What you weren’t prepared for was Auston Matthews.

He wasn’t what you had expected from someone whose name kept popping up in conversations and headlines. He didn’t carry himself like someone who cared about all that.

He was calm, friendly and lowkey, like he wasn’t interested in being the center of attention, even though people kept trying to hand it to him.

You had meant to avoid small talk and to stay on the periphery but somehow, you ended up on the balcony with him, watching the city lights, a half-warm beer in your hand.

“I´m not usually a fan of these things,” you admitted, a little too honest.

He glanced over. “Same. I usually sneak out after thirty minutes, but it´s hard when it´s your name on the cake.”

You snorted. “You´d think being a hometown hero would come with more perks. An exit plan maybe.”

“Working on it,” he chuckled. “Are you from here?”

“Born and raised but I left a while ago and just came back recently.”

“Why?”

“Honestly? Needed a reset.”

He nodded like he got it and maybe he did.

There wasn’t a spark, not at first. Just ease and mutual understanding. Like talking to someone you´ve never met but kind of already know.

You kept it light. No exes, no big career dreams, no dramatic stories. Lighthearted talk of music, your mutual hatred of overpriced cocktails and shared appreciation for late-night pizza.

At the end of the night, he didn’t ask for your number. You didn’t offer it either.

It felt perfect that way.

-----------------

Two weeks later, you ran into him again. total fluke.

You were at a coffee shop near Queen, head buried in your laptop, trying to pretend you weren’t about to miss a deadline, when someone said your name.

You looked up and there he was standing. Hoodie, cap, sunglasses pushed up like he wasn’t trying that hard to hide.

He smiled, and this time it felt different. More familiar then on the balcony.

“Do you live around here?” he asked, casually.

“Sort of. I like working here.”

“Mind if I sit?”

And that was it. No flirting. No big moment. Just two people who didn’t really want to be seen, finding each other.

---------------

It started small from there.

You had exchanged numbers at that second meeting. You would text sometimes. Memes mostly. A bad pun here, a link to a song there.

You never talked about feelings. Never crossed any lines that could be interpreted as anything other than two people being friends.

You were just orbiting.

He would swing by sometimes after games with two containers of takeout you would eat on your couch while you watched trash TV.

You didn’t talk about it. Not to your friends, not to your family. Your heart still guarded but somehow it still started to feel like something.

---------------

One night after a win, he showed up with that look in his eyes. Tired but happy.

“I don’t want to be around people,” he sighed.

“Come on in,” you mumbled, letting him settle on your couch like he belonged there.

That night you fell asleep next to each other, fully clothed, with some of sitcom playing in the background.

When you woke up, he was still there.

And that scared you a little.

--------------

At that point you tried to pull back.

You told yourself it was getting blurry. That you weren’t supposed to feel warm when his name popped up on your phone. That this wasn’t what you signed up for.

You deleted a few drafts of messages that said things like “Hey, maybe we should take a step back” or “This is getting too real” but never sent them.

Because every time he texted, it still made you smiled and when he showed up, he always made you laugh.

You weren’t in love. You weren’t even sure you wanted to be but he made it easy to forget why you were packing up your heart in the first place.

--------------

One night he caught you off guard.

You were at your place, finishing dinner after one of his games, when he looked at you and said, “You´re kind of my favorite post-game tradition now.”

You blinked. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it´s not supposed to be like that.”

He didn’t push, just looked down at his plate, then said “okay”.

But something shifted after that.

---------------

You tried dating someone else, briefly. A guy from work. A safe and normal option. He liked hiking and spreadsheets not scoring goals and winning games. He texted you good morning and good night every day.

He didn’t make you feel like Auston did when you caught him humming along to your favorite song or when he remembered how you took your coffee or when he reached out and squeezed your hand during a particularly bad day just because he knew.

It ended before it started.

You didn’t tell Auston.

You didn’t need to.

---------------

Late spring came fast. The Leafs exited the playoffs in mid-May. Your job was stabilizing. Your apartment felt less temporary and yet, every time Auston came over, your brain ran in circles.

He starched out on the couch like he belonged there, making comments like “You know you snore, right?” and laughed when you threw a pillow at him.

But he never crossed the line.

Never kissed you.

Never asked for more and neither did you.

It was all unspoken, like both of you were too scared to see what would happen if you said the quiet part out loud.

At least until one night.

You were watching some dumb cooking show, sitting too close for two people who were supposed to be “just friends”. He looked over over at you, eyes soft, voice low as he spoke “Do you ever think maybe we´re avoiding something?”

You didn’t look at him. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer, just let the silene settle.

Maybe that was your answer.

--------------

A week passed. Then two.

He didn’t text, neither did you.

You missed him more than you wanted to admit. Not because of some grand romantic thing but because he was your favorite part of the day. The person who made everything a little less heavy.

Still, you held the line.

You weren’t looking for something serious. That was the rule.

--------------

On a random Tuesday he knocked on your door.

You opened it confused.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he explained.

You raised an eyebrow. “You live twenty minutes away.”

He smiled. “So, I took the long way.”

You let him in. He looked around like he hadn’t been there for years not a few weeks.

“I missed this,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” you whispered in reply.

He looked at you, mor serious now. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded carefully.

“What are we doing wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat at his question. “I don’t know.”

“Because I keep telling myself that this is nothing and that we´re just hanging out and I shouldn’t feel this way about that.”

You swallowed and nodded in agreement.

“But I do,” he said firmly. “I do feel this way.”

You looked at him, really looked at him and realized maybe you had been lying to yourself the whole time because you felt it too.

Even if you didn’t want to. Even if you weren’t ready. Even if this was the scariest thing you had done in a long time.

Still, you said it, quiet but clear. “Me too.”

He kissed you once that night, a promise of more to come but not overstepping whatever just happened between you two that night.

You didn’t crawl into each other’s arms like a movie ending after that. You sat on the couch, side-by-side, hands brushing, your head falling onto his shoulder and finally let yourselves be in it.

It still wasn’t serious, not yet, but it was real, the beginning of something that would eventually turn into more with time.

You had guarded your heart carefully, you didn’t expect him to come into your life and claim it with the speed of one of his slapshots, but you weren’t mad.

You were content with this and whatever the future would hold for the two of you.

[nvlndrs]

not me forgetting to title my own fucking work oh well

[nvlndrs]

a/n: i haven't posted any writing in years yet here we are with a random and very much unedited willy styles fluff piece

pairing: william nylander x reader warnings: none word count: 1.3k

summary: william is head over heels and matthew knies makes sure to point it out to everyone

William Nylander didn’t foresee himself falling head over heels in love with someone anytime soon. Too comfortable living the bachelor life and too busy with his star level NHL career to fit a girlfriend in his life. Or so he thought.

You met at a charity event back in December. Him with his brother as his plus one, you the plus one of one of the organizers who quickly and without consideration left you to your own devices nursing a flute of too expensive champagne. William was struck by not only your beauty but the calmness you were exuding despite clearly having been abandoned by your so-called date. So he took advantage of Alex leaving him in favor of a bathroom break and approached you with an easy smile and perhaps a little too on the nose confidence judging by your unimpressed expression.

It took a lot of convincing from Willy’s side to even get your number but now, five months into a relationship with you, there is no doubt he would do it all over again if it meant winning your heart every time.

Presently, William is watching you chat animatedly with Steph Marner at yet another charity dinner. Your date from five months ago long forgotten as William lazily rests his hand on your upper thigh with his thumb rubbing against your warm and soft skin. You’re leaning your chin in one hand with your elbows on the table and he thinks your profile is the most beautiful he has ever seen. Presumably noticing his staring out of the corner of your eye, you turn to look at him as your conversation with Steph dies down. Eyes questioning.

”Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, making William laugh heartily.

”I just love looking at you, you’re so pretty.” He states and leans in to catch the corner of your lips in a quick kiss. You hum and murmur something about him being silly which in turn makes him let out another set of giggles. 

”Can I tell you something honestly?” You ask and William’s giggles die down while his brows furrow in a more serious manner.

”Of course, älskling”

”I can’t wait ’til we get home so we can curl up in bed with the pups.” 

Your confession has William exploding into his signature hearty laughter while a warm sensation spreads inside your chest and an adoring smile taking place on your lips. He then leans in to capture the corner of your mouth in a chaste kiss that makes the heat from your chest rise to your cheeks.

”I love you so much my silly girl,” he states matter of factly before continuing, ”and so do the dogs.”

Now it’s your turn to giggle. ”I’m pretty sure Banksy only loves me for spoiling him rotten while Pablo’s love actually is unconditional”

Your boyfriend nods in agreement, meanwhile the servers start filing into the venue one by one with trays of dessert. He reaches for your hand under the table and brings it up to his lips in order to press a kiss to the soft skin of the back of your hand, something he frequently does - whether at home or out in public.

William watches as Aryne Tavares calls your name from across the table, in turn making your attention switch from him over to the older woman. 

”Dude,” he hears Matthew Knies sigh dramatically from beside him, ”you’re going to marry her someday, right?”

Willy looks at his junior quizzically. ”Let me rephrase that,” Kniesy continues, ”you’ve got to marry her someday.” 

His statement is followed by a stern look and William shrugs in return, still with a smile across his lips. A long pause stretches between the two young men and just as Matthew is about to grill his senior further, another voice pitches in from across the table.

”Cut Willy some slack, Kniesy.” Auston directs from his side of the table however the smirk playing at the corner of the captain’s lips tells William he’s not about to be saved by his friend at all. ”She might run the other way if he pops the question after the amount of begging he did to get a first date with her,” his captain chirps and William buries his face into his free hand.

”You guys are the worst, I was not that desperate.”

”Yes you were, babe.” 

Your voice makes William’s head whip in your direction, not having noticed that your conversation with Aryne had stopped in favor of listening in on him getting chirped by his teammates. ”Not you too!” He lets out in the most dramatic fashion for someone as nonchalant as William Nylander. ”You’re supposed to be on my side, älskling.”

A fresh set of laughter rises from your chest and your hand moves to rest at the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. ”I am on your side but that doesn’t exclude me from enjoying you getting chirped for being a textbook simp those first few weeks,” you explain matter of factly, ”your desperation paid off, didn’t it?” William looks at you pointedly with mirth hiding behind his faux disapproval of your reasoning and so you lean in to kiss his pout, making the boys let out whistles of approval. ...................

Later when the two of you are huddled together in the back of a taxi on your way home from the event and fatigue weighs heavily on your eyelids, threatening to close them, William thinks back to Kniesy’s question. As the street lights flash by in a blur in the otherwise dark night he contemplates whether your lighthearted response to the junior player’s inquiry was genuine or a way to not stirr up speculation around your relationship. He tries to push away the latter alternative but the bad feeling weighs heavier in the pit of his stomach the more he overthinks it. So much for his nonchalant reputation, he thinks. There is, however, nothing nonchalant about his feelings for you and he cannot stand the nagging at the back of his mind.

”Kniesy didn’t scare you off did he?” His voice breaks the silence and despite trying to sound more composed than he feels, there is a tinge of uncertainty lacing his tone. You crane your neck slightly in order to look at him and he swears you see straight through his soul.

”I’m not sure what you mean, William.”

He isn’t sure either, the question all of a sudden feeling dumber than intended now that you look at him as if he suddenly grew a third eye or something. Maybe he did. You don’t give him the opportunity to explain himself further before you eyebrows draw together in the way they usually do when you’re about to scold him - however playfully.

”You know that adorable idiot has just about no filter and at times two brain cells which are fighting each other but Matthew means well and no I’m not about to run off because he asked you when you intend on marrying me.” A pregnant pause stretches between the two of you. ”Besides,” you continue ”you have to propose first.”

Now there’s an obvious smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth and all worry is washed away. Instead of giving a verbal response to your scolding, William leans down and kisses you with the amount of passion that is allowed in the back of a taxi.

”Thank you for putting my head back straight,” he says once his lips abandon yours. Instead he takes your left hand and points matter of factly to your ring finger. ”There will be a ring here one day and it will be me putting it there.” 

A hearty laugh bubbles out of you and fills the compact space of the car. 

”Sounds good,” you say and kiss him while the taxi slows down in front of your shared home. ”Now let’s get inside and cuddle our sons.” 

[nvlndrs]

neeeeed to hear your thoughts on younger!gf x sid when sid is having a moment and starts thinking she'd be better off with someone her age??? in my mind it would be like him picking her up from a bottomless brunch with her friends and being like wow i do Not fit in here

nsfw content below

you don’t even notice him at first. sid’s parked across the street, windows down, elbow hanging out, hat pulled low and sunglasses shielding half his face like he's trying not to be recognized—but not really, because he likes the quiet attention it gets him. most of the girls outside the patio haven’t clocked him, too busy snapping selfies with mimosas held up like trophies, filtered sunlight bouncing off their barely-there tops and glossy lips. he watches them laugh, wild and unfiltered, off their asses on overpriced brunch cocktails and drama from group chats, everything about them too much in a way he knows used to be fun.

you’re one of them. tipsy as hell, perched on the edge of a wire chair, crop top straining against your tits every time you lean forward to whisper something obscene into your best friend’s ear. your laugh punches through the traffic, your tongue flashes pink and wet over the rim of your third—fourth?—glass, and sid just sits there, swallowing down the rough thought that maybe he’s the only one who sees how fucking hot you are when you’re like this. unfiltered. messy. too young for him, obviously.

you look over. catch him staring.

and god, your smile’s trouble. you wave with all five fingers, bounce out of your seat like it’s the best part of your day, and your friends start teasing you instantly. one shouts, “say hi to daddy!” and sid hears it plain through the car window. he sees the way you flip them off over your shoulder and jog across the street anyway, half-stumbling in those platform sandals he told you not to wear. he watches your tits bounce under that tight little ribbed top and thinks, for the hundredth time, that he has no business touching you. not with his calloused hands and aching joints and car that smells like icy-hot and protein bars.

you yank open the passenger door and slide in, breathless, lips glossy and stained peach from your drink. “thanks for picking me up, baby,” you hum, leaning over to press a sticky kiss to his cheek.

he doesn’t say much at first. just looks at you. eyes flick over your outfit again, lowcut and clinging and intentionally short, eyes tracing the shimmer on your collarbone, the bit of syrup clinging to the corner of your mouth. he sees the way your mascara's smudged under one eye, the slurpy satisfaction written across your face. “have fun?” he asks.

“duh. i drank half a bottle of prosecco and told sara her ex’s dick was probably shaped like a traffic cone.” you giggle at yourself, head lolling against the seat. “the bartender was cute. kind of a slutty vibe.”

sid laughs, but it dies in his throat too fast. hands on the steering wheel tighten. you don't notice. you're texting someone now, legs up in the seat, knees bent, fingers flying over your phone with the urgency of someone whose group chat is on fire. he’s got a clear view up your skirt, and yeah, that’s lace, and no, you’re not wearing anything practical under there, and yes, it makes his cock twitch just thinking about how easy it'd be to slide his hand between your thighs right now—but still, there's something sharp sticking in his chest.

you don’t belong in his passenger seat.

he’s fucking thirty-seven. gray at his temples if he doesn't keep it trimmed right. he owns a back stretcher. his spotify algorithm is just podcasts and tragic dad rock. the only time he danced recently was at a teammate's wedding and he tweaked his ankle. he’s not cute at brunch. he doesn’t take mirror pics. he doesn’t say slay.

“hey,” he says, quieter. “you ever think about dating someone your own age?”

your head turns fast, confused. “what?”

“just—i mean. you’re, like, in your prime. your friends are hot, young. you all look like you belong in some reality show about ruining men’s lives. i’m just some old asshole with a busted shoulder.”

you blink. set your phone in your lap. stare at him, hard. “are you seriously jealous of my brunch squad right now?”

he shifts, eyes back on the road. “not jealous. just… realistic. i mean, fuck, babe, you could be out there dating some guy who gets your jokes without googling them. who doesn’t groan every time he sits down.”

you stare harder. then, without warning, you snort so loud it startles him. “sidney. what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i’m talking about the fact that you’re gonna get bored. you’re gonna wake up one day and realize you’re wasting your time babysitting an old man who smells like muscle balm and bitches about phone updates.”

you laugh again, louder this time, and climb across the console like it’s nothing, like you haven’t been drinking all day and the car’s not moving and he’s trying very hard not to swerve into traffic. you wedge yourself between the seat and the dash, straddle his lap with your face inches from his, your scent overwhelming, fruity and sweat-damp and something only twenty-somethings manage to pull off after five hours outside. your pussy’s bare, pressed right to the bulge in his jeans now, hot and sticky, and you just sit there like that, daring him to repeat himself.

“i could fuck anyone i wanted,” you say, nose brushing his. “you think i don’t know that? you think i don’t get hit on constantly? you think i don’t see the way dudes look at me when i post a story of your hands wrapped around my throat?”

his breath catches. you shift, hips rolling once, slow and hard, dragging your soaked pussy along the thick ridge of his cock. “but i don’t want anyone else. i want you. i like how you groan when i suck your dick. i like how you fuck like you’re starving. i like that you know how to shut me the fuck up without trying to be cute about it.”

your lips graze his jaw. “and i like that you get jealous sometimes. makes me wanna ride your face till you stop pouting.”

he grabs your ass with one hand, the other on the wheel, grips hard, pulling you tighter against him with a groan that’s pure frustration and pure want. “you’re fucking evil.”

“mm, but i’m your evil,” you hum, nipping at his ear. “and if you ever say some dumb shit like that again, i’m gonna edge you for a week straight.”

“jesus christ.”

“drive the car, grandpa. i’m trying to blow you in the driveway.”

[nvlndrs]

hi girly I am soooo in my feels right now. Can you please do willy styles taking care of reader during her period. like she’s at his apt and needs tampons and he feels embarrassed buying them but does anyway for her because he loves her hehehe thank you <3

As much as I tried to write it as him being embarrassed by buying tampons I couldn´t do it too much because I just can´t see our idgaf war veteran being bothered by something like that 🫣 I hope you like it anyways 😭

Man on a Mission – William Nylander

The cramps started when you were halfway through the movie. One second you were curled up against William, warm under the blanket, you head resting on his chest. The next, a sharp, deep tug rolled through your lower stomach like a warning bell.

You shifted with a quiet groan.

William looked down, his hand pausing where it was rubbing lazy circles over your back. “You okay?”

You nodded instinctively, trying to push past it. “Yeah, just cramps.”

His brows drew together, like he was already trying to fix it. “Do you want some painkillers? Tea? Something else?”

His worry made you feel warm inside. “I´ll take some ibuprofen,” you said, pushing the blanket off your legs, slowly getting out of his hold. You stood, and that’s when you felt it. The sudden, dreaded wetness. Not a ton but enough to notice.

Shit.

You blinked and stood still for a second. Then you slowly turned back toward him. “Uhm. I think I just got my period.”

William blinked. “Like…just now?”

You gave him a look and sighed. “Yeah. Just now. I don’t even have anything with me. No tampons or pads or anything.”

William straightened a bit on the bench. “Do you want to run to a store real quick?”

You looked down at your black leggings, grateful for the color, but still aware of how unprepared you were. “I don’t really want to walk around like this.”

He nodded immediately. “Okay, I´ll go.”

You blinked in surprise. “Wait. Really?”

“Yeah, obviously.” He was already standing and reaching for the hoodie draped over the back of the couch like it was nothing. “Text me the brand you want?”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked carefully.

He paused for a split second, hand on the doorframe. “No,” he shrugged. “I mean, I´d rather you not sit here uncomfortable or bleeding through my couch.”

That made you laugh but made the cramps worse in the same motion.

“Text me what kind,” he repeated, grabbing his keys.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

He grinned; the kind of grin that always made you feel stupid in love. “What else are boyfriends for?”

----------------

William stood in the middle of the pharmacy aisle, staring at a wall of pastel boxes.

There were more tampon options than he ever thought were possible. Tampons with applicators, others without. Super, regular, light, combo packs. Organic cotton. Unscented. Scented? He didn’t even know that was a thing.

He pulled out his phone and re-read you text.

Älskling: U by Kotex, regular, purple box

Älskling: if they don’t have that, Playtex Sport in the pink box. Thx babe 🥰

Okay. Sounded simple enough.

Except there were three purple boxes. Were they all regular? One said “Click”. What did that mean? One was “Security”. That sounded like a bank product. Another one said “FitFlex”.

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. There was an older woman down the aisle, clearly avoiding him.

He started reaching for a box when a young clerk walked by. William caught him.

“Hey, man, quick question. These are all regular?” he asked, pointing at the boxes.

The clerk glanced at him, then the wall of products, then back at Williams clearly confused face. “Uhh. I think so? Not totally sure.”

William sighed. “Alright. Thanks anyways.”

He picked up the purple box labeled U by Kotex Click – Regular and looked at the fine print. To others it might looked weird that he was standing in the middle of the aisle reading that and heat might even rose a little in his cheeks as the older woman walked past him, shaking her head but he wanted to get it right.

He added a backup box of the Playtex Sport ones too, just in case and then, almost on instinct, he threw a chocolate bar, a heating pad, and a small bottle of Advil into the basket too.

At the checkout, the teenage girl ringing him up raised an eyebrow at the stack. “Girlfriend?” she asked with a half-smirk.

“Yeah,” he said.

“She´s lucky.”

He chuckled. “I´m the lucky one.”

-----------------

You were curled up on the couch with the dogs keeping you company when he came back in, grocery bag dangling from his wrist.

He dropped it in front of you gently. “I wasn’t sure which ones exactly, so I got both. Also, more painkillers and chocolate. Oh, and a heat thing.”

You stared at him. “Did you rob a period aisle?”

“I might have panicked a little, even scared off an old lady,” he admitted.

You laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You did good.”

He looked relieved. “That aisle is terrifying.”

“You get used to it,” you mumbled absentmindedly, digging through the bag. “Thank you. Seriously.”

William sat back down, watching as you padded to the bathroom. When you came back, dressed in a sweatsuit stolen from his closet, you looked ten times more comfortable

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah. Way better.”

He lifted the blanket, nudging Pablo out of the way in the process. “C´mere.”

You crawled back under, sighing as your body curled against his side again. “Do you want the heating pad now or later?”

“Later. I just want to lay here for a while.”

He nodded, one hand finding your hair and combing through it slowly while your head rested on his chest.

“Hey,” he said after a bit.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled.

“Is there, like… anything else I should be doing? During this?”

You looked up at him, touched at his concern. “You´re doing everything already.”

He looked relieved again, but then thoughtful. “Do some girls get like… super emotional during this? Or is that just a movie thing?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Hormones are different for everyone. Sometimes I cry over nothing. Sometimes I get super irritated. It´s not predictable.”

“If you randomly cry, should I leave you alone?” he asked genuinely.

“Honestly? Just hold me and let me cry.”

He nodded seriously. “Consider it done.”

You studied his face, the concern, the quiet intensity of wanting to do it right by you. “You´re really sweet, you know.”

He gave a half-smile. “You´re bleeding from your uterus and still manage to be polite. That´s way more impressive.”

You snorted. “Don’t romanticize this. It´s gross.” Or at least that was what your last boyfriend told you.

“Not gross,” he said seriously. “It´s normal, even though it´s like you´re surviving a horror movie every month.”

“I mean, basically,” you chuckled.

He looked at you for a long moment, then pulled you closer, like he needed you as close as possible.

“I think you should have a punch card. Every ten periods, you get a spa day.”

“I´d love that,” you laughed.

He looked pleased. “Perfect, I´ll sponsor it.”

-----------------

Later that evening William had made dinner, well, William had ordered dinner. He let you choose what you wanted to eat and what you wanted to watch even when you picked a reality tv show he pretended to hate.

When your cramps came back stronger, he set up the heating pad without you asking and held it in place against your stomach while you half-dozed on his chest.

At one point you woke up from a short nap and found him scrolling on his phone. “What are you doing?” you asked quietly, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Looking up how to help during periods.”

You blinked at him, warmth spreading in your chest. “You googled it?”

“I didn’t want to be a dumbass about it.”

You smiled so hard your cheeks slowly started to hurt.

He kept reading aloud. “Says here back rubs can help.” You immediately turned onto your side. “Say less.”

He chuckled and shifted behind you, hands working gently along your lower back. “How´s that?”

“Heaven.”

“I´m a certified period doula now.”

“You´re ridiculous,” you chuckled.

“But helpful.”

You turned just enough so you could capture his lips in a soft kiss. “Very.”