xinganhao · 13 hours ago
Text
🧣 svt (taylor's version).
⌗ ┆love song edition ★ ₊ ˚ heartbreak edition.
‧₊˚✩彡 includes: established relationship, pet names, friends to lovers, second chance romances, [light] angst, fluff, you name it! suggestive joke (seokmin) + cussing. drabbles under the cut.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
🧣 hit play .ᐟ
SEUNGCHEOL QUEUED 🎧 i once believed love would be black and white, but it's golden. (DAYLIGHT)
when seungcheol comes to, the sun has yet to streak through the windows. he shifts in his bed, only to freeze at the feeling of something solid pinned to his side. he relaxes immediately when he remembers that he's no longer sleeping alone. for a moment, he just stares at you— the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the muffled way you snore. he doesn't know how he got so lucky, really. he doesn't know, yet, if he deserves this. after all, seungcheol has wounded the good; seungcheol has trusted the wicked. he tries not to dwell on it. instead, he leans down to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. he will deserve it, he thinks to himself as he holds you just a little closer. he will do everything in his power to make sure he's worthy. outside, daylight breaks.
JEONGHAN QUEUED 🎧 you can hear it in the silence; you can feel it on the way home. you can see it with the lights out. (YOU ARE IN LOVE)
it's snowing. jeonghan doesn't have a winter coat and it's snowing. he looks disgruntled, but the expression falls flat as he watches you skip down the sidewalk. "careful," he calls, as if you need the warning. he tries to resist when you take his hand; that's another futile thing, though, because he's never been able to deny you. and so he lets you twirl him round and round. he lets the snow soak in to his shoes. he lets the cold wash over him, focusing instead on the weight of your fingers between the spaces of his. a snowflake catches on your eyelash and he instinctively reaches over with his free hand to push it away. something shifts, then, on his own face. a strange look. the telltale sign of an epiphany. "you're my best friend," jeonghan blurts out. you know exactly what he really means to say.
JOSHUA QUEUED 🎧 they say the end is comin', everyone's up to somethin'. i find myself coming home to your sweet nothings. (SWEET NOTHING)
joshua has had one of those days. you know the type. the days, weeks where so many voices just seem to be telling him, "you should be doing more." more, more, more. they always want more of him. more than he can give. more than what he has. it's overwhelming, but joshua has something to tide him by. it's there when he gets home, when he toes off his shoes and pads in to his apartment. it's there in the kitchen, humming a song that he can't quite place yet. it's you. he comes up to you and wordlessly wraps his arms around your waist. maybe you're cutting vegetables. maybe you're baking. whatever it is, he'll always press a soft kiss to your shoulder— not to distract, just to have and to hold. he's admittedly too soft for all of it, and you're the only thing keeping him afloat.
JUNHUI QUEUED 🎧 i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this. (PAPER RINGS)
"why do mondays have to exist?" jun whines as he practically entangles his entire body around yours. it's a bit of a moot point; his job didn't give him the leeway of weekends, anyway. he's not whining about having to go to work. no, he's whining about losing you to work. you give him a fond roll of your eyes as you attempt to clamber out of your shared bed, but your best friend-turned-boyfriend refuses to budge. "how about i just marry you, hm? you'll never have to work a day in your life," he teases, burying his face in the crook of your neck. when you tease him something along the lines of where's the ring, he pauses for only a heartbeat. and then he's letting you go, reaching at the bedside table, pulling out a receipt from god-knows-where. he makes quick work of it. "there." jun slides the paper imitation on to your right hand's ring finger. "gotcha!"
SOONYOUNG QUEUED 🎧 please take my hand, and please take me dancing, and please leave me stranded. it's so romantic! (NEW ROMANTICS)
no one knows a good time quite like soonyoung. he's the perfect companion when you're down or frustrated; he knows exactly what to do with your heartbreak. sure, some people see him as a party boy, but he doesn't mind the image. if anything, he's a little bothered assumptions that he has a soft spot for you. that is, until he takes you out after your nth disastrous date. the two of you end up driving down some expressway, the music blasting oppressively loud from his car speakers. at one point, he pulls open the sunroof for you. it's late in the evening. you're screaming the lyrics to his favorite song, the wind whipping at your hair, cutting your vision in to strips. and soonyoung is laughing as he glances at you through the rearview mirror, as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. the rumors are terrible and cruel, but the one about his soft spot— well, that one might just be true.
WONWOO QUEUED 🎧 these hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me. (THIS LOVE)
wonwoo returns as quietly as he left. the boy sitting across from you at your neighborhood café is not the jeon wonwoo you once dated; this boy is older. maybe a bit wiser. he's more careful with his words and he carries himself with much more grace. some things haven't changed, though. the crescent shape of his eyes when he smiles. the amused lilt of his voice. and the way he looks at you. that hasn't changed either. he's not outright asking for a second shot, but it's in every measured word. you never hated him for the choices that he made. still, you can't help but ask, "are you done running, jeon?", which translates to: is this you coming back? this time, he doesn't weigh his response. "yes," he says to both the question you asked aloud and the one left unspoken. if you squinted, if you tried, you might still see the boy you love underneath the idol.
JIHOON QUEUED 🎧 my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new. (CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT)
in your personal opinion, jihoon looks the best during soundcheck. one might think he's most attractive during concert proper or maybe off-stage. but there's something about this more pared down version of him— dressed in casual wear, rapping lazily in to the microphone— that reminds you just how insanely alluring your boyfriend is. he's fit like a goddamn daydream and it shows in how he moves. your absolute favorite part, though? it's something so subtle, a blink-if-you'll-miss-it type of thing. he spends most of his soundchecks with his head down, his head bobbing along to the music flowing in from his in-ears. but, without fail, he gravitates towards the stage side you're on. he'll linger by the left; he'll stay entirely on his right. whether or not he's conscious, it's you that he always walking to.
MINGYU QUEUED 🎧 they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly. i choose you and me religiously. (GUILTY AS SIN?)
mingyu adores you so openly that it's almost blinding. there's absolutely no way he could wrong you, leaving you to be the one who often deals the deeper cuts. even then, though, even when you've caused him ache or pain, he's patient. he's kind. he'll stew silently in his hurt as he places a reassuring hand over your thigh, like the mere touch is life-giving to him as well. m-i-n-e, he traces over your pant leg. "you think it's hard to love you," he'll say in an oh-so soft voice. "but to me, it's easy as breathing." there's no exaggeration in his words, no attempt to guilt trip or gaslight. he says it like it's an indisputable fact. the sky is blue, the sun is warm, and kim mingyu loves you. "so, just—" his voice will crack. he will try so hard to be strong, to let you know that you don't have to be perfect; you just have to be his. "breathe for me. please, just love me."
SEOKMIN QUEUED 🎧 can i go where you go? can we always be this close, forever and ever? (LOVER)
"can i just say," seokmin stage-whispers as he leans in a little closer to you. his breath tickles your ear as he teases, just enough for the two of you to hear. "i didn't know going to an ex's wedding would be so fun!" there's a bright gleam in his eyes, one that wasn't there when his heart had been blue. he has you to blame for his belief that all's well that ends well. still, he has a nagging suspicion that everybody in this wedding reception wants you. you'll call him silly when he bitches and moans about it, though you're helpless to indulge him when he invites you on to the dance floor. his calloused hands are gentle as he glides you along, as he dips you and spins you and shows you off to everyone. it's a good party, but seokmin's favorite part of the night will inevitably be taking you home.
MINGHAO QUEUED 🎧 i'm setting off, but not without my muse; no, not without you. (THE LAKES)
there's something to be said about minghao finding a way to drag you along on his supposed live, laugh, love trip. you thought he would want to be alone while soul-searching. instead, he's found a way to integrate you in to his rare vacation. you swim in cliffside pools; he paints auroras and wisteria. it's on these getaways that he allows himself to be just a little softer around the edges. to call you sweet nothings like beloved, like my muse. when you ask him about it, it takes him some time to put it in to words. "i like having you around," he'll say as his brush glides over his canvas, as his pen leaves marks on his palm. "i don't feel like i have to be anybody when i'm with you." he's a man of calamitous love, of many names. the8, myungho, minghao. with you, he can just be.
SEUNGKWAN QUEUED 🎧 and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? (INVISIBLE STRING)
there are at least four times where seungkwan and you were parallel lines. equidistant, not quite meeting, or with degrees of separation. there's the childrens' song festivals and the tangerine-picking events; there's the friend of a friend, the aunt who said she had a 'nice man to recommend'. years and years later, when the two of you do inventory of your lives, you're surprised with just how close you guys came to each other every single time. "you mean to say i could've dated you much earlier?" will be his first takeaway, packaged as a joking complaint. much later, though, as he thinks of all the little things that led to this or that— he can't help but think of the stories he used to scoff at. he ought to issue apologies to all of them, he thinks. seungkwan initially didn't believe in destiny or fate, but what other word is there to describe you aside from 'soulmate'?
VERNON QUEUED 🎧 think i know where you belong, think i know it's with me. (YOU BELONG WITH ME)
"i ended things with her," vernon tells you casually, one afternoon. it's a vague admission, especially since he's never been all that clear about what 'thing' he had with the 'her' who caused him so much grief. still, it's a welcome thing. maybe now he can stop moping all the time. when you ask him if he regrets it, he gives you a one-shouldered shrug. "i'm good. think i need to get my eyes checked, though." you're chiding him for insulting his ex's appearance when he amends, "that's not what i meant! that's not what i meant!" a beat. his voice is a little on the shy end, now. "i was trying to say— i think i'm far-sighted or something. like, how did i not notice what was right in front of me?" this time, it's your turn to pause, to let the double meaning of his words sink in. when he sees the cogs in your brain turning, vernon offers you a nervous smile. "i'm not too late, am i? you still with me?"
CHAN QUEUED 🎧 you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's comin' down, no sound, it's all around. (SNOW ON THE BEACH)
to fall in love is a joy in itself, but to do it at the same pace and at the same time is nothing short of a miracle. chan realizes that when he finds the courage to confess. you're not early or late; you don't meet him halfway. you want him the exact same way that he does and it makes him smile like he's won a goddamn contest. "if i'm dreaming, don't wake me up," he breathes as he stares at you, his eyes bright and wide and impossibly fond. he's scared to jinx it, to wish for it, but you're looking up at him with an adoration that's in equal measure. how could he doubt that? he sweeps you up in a hug that knocks you off your feet. it's the type of scene that you used to only see on screens, except chan's love is very, very real, and it's all for you.
Tumblr media
★ this was made possible by the suggestions of some truly lovely people ´◡` tysm to circusprincesss, taeraegyat, mercif4l, seungkwansflower, sunkissedyo, geminirum, flipflopscrop + anon!
195 notes · View notes
jsprnt · 2 days ago
Text
concern and worry gnaw at you when you hear of your boyfriend’s injury, making you rush over as fast as possible
kenan yıldız x fem!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A/N: based on this request! thank u 🩶
W/C: 1.128
Tumblr media
"who in the world drives this slow on the highway?!"
you shout rhetorically, resisting the urge to smash your palm onto the car horn.
sighing deeply, you glance at the time. the sun had set a couple of hours ago thanks to the season switch from summer to autumn.
the night had been eventful, to say the least. you'd been hanging out with your friends, a gathering that had been excitedly planned for weeks.
wanting to be present in the moment, you had put your phone on 'do not disturb', knowing you'd be checking your phone every minute due to notifications.
your boyfriend, kenan had a football match tonight. being a supportive partner, you always attended or watched his games from a distance.
tonight, being with your friends whom you hadn't seen in a while, you thought it would be better to catch up on the game later.
low and behold, when you were saying your goodbyes to your friends, and stepped into your car, your heart dropped to your stomach at an unread notification.
'kenan yildiz 85' subbed off due to injury'
the match had ended thirty minutes ago, which meant that he definitely wasn't at the stadium anymore.
instead of thinking rationally, and calling kenan- your mind automatically directed you to check his location, making you immediately drive over to his location, a big hospital nearby the allianz stadium.
you didn't even stop to check your messages, let alone find out what kind of injury he'd sustained.
paying for a parking ticket, you kill your car engine, and jump out of your car, booking it into the hospital.
you finally take the time to look down at your phone, scrolling to look for any messages from your boyfriend.
'don't panic'
'I know you'll panic either way, but just don't'
'got transferred to the hospital'
'nasty tackle'
you frown at the messages sent twenty minutes later.
'babyyy'
'answer mee'
'your boyfriend is hurting, and you won't answer?'
you can almost imagine how whiny his tone is, and you don't know if you should laugh or cry..
he didn’t even realize the distress you were experiencing.
with a quick semi-out-of-breath introduction and identification check at the front desk, you're told to go up to room number 1010.
the fact that he'd been assigned a room, instead of him wait in the waiting room had you worried.
without knocking, you open the door to the room, anxiety nearly making you drown in your worries.
though you’re not greeted with a scene of unwellness and tragic sadness.
no, it's of joy and relaxation.
kenan, whom you thought would be in horrible condition, is looking incredibly relaxed while shotting back a handful of pistachios, chuckling at something on the television that's mounted on the wall.
the only indication of injury is a blue brace wrapped around his ankle.
"baby?"
you call out, hands dropping to your side. you step closer, all worry and anxiety leaving your body through sudden prickling tears in your eyes.
"schatz! hey, you never replied to me-"
kenan cuts himself off when you sit on the edge of the hospital bed, head hanging down as you begin to sniffle.
the boy immediately reaches out, cradling the back of your head, moving your body so your cheek is pressed against his chest.
"why the tears, sweet girl?" he coos, voice laced with concern. his other arm wraps around your back, pulling you in closer.
"I was so fucking worried. I thought something horrible had happened- and I didn't think to check what exactly. I just drove without thinking, and now your ankle is wrapped-"
you don't pause to take a breath, explaining without break.
"hey- hey, breathe for me, hm? I'm fine- I'm aware and conscious. see?”
kenan's hand trails up and down your back in a soothing motion, and he moves his head to press a reassuring kiss on your temple. 
"look at me, baby.." he coaxes, pulling back to give you room to look up at him.
your eyes meet, and he gives you one of his beautiful smiles. his face emitting softness and warmth.
"good girl. don't cry.."
the pads of his thumbs swipe away at the tears under your eyes and cheeks, and he presses another kiss on the fallen tears.
you take a deep, shaky breath before opening your mouth to speak.
"what happened to you? a nasty tackle?"
he closes his eyes when nodding, opening them again to make eye contact.
"i got tackled by a defender of our opponent, his foot hit my ankle, and i wasn't able to continue playing. staff brought me to the hospital to be make sure of my condition, and left when the doctor gave them the reassurance I'll be fine.."
you lick your dry lips, voice hoarse from emotion.
"you're fine? just that?"
"minor sprain, wouldn't have been smart to continue playing. waiting for a second opinion from another doctor on call. asked if she could have a look at the mri-scan.."
"why are you in a hospital bed then?"
"it was fine sitting in the waiting room, until i kept getting recognized by fans. you know- i love meeting them, but not when my ankle is hurting, and- sadly, some people can be unpredictable.."
"oh.." you trail off, blinking multiple times.
"you'll be okay?"
he nods, sucking in a breath. eyes gentle as he caresses the soft of your cheek.
"that's right, don't stress your pretty head.."
you cling onto his shirt, pressing your weight against his chest, and laying against his body.
he hums softly, leaning back against the unexpectedly soft hospital pillows, having your body halfway on top of him.
"where are your parents?"
"stuck in traffic, stadium was packed tonight."
"makes sense.."
you make room for a beat of silence, then speak again. 
"were you scared of the mri-machine?"
you knew of his minor claustrophobia, being rolled in a snug machine, which also made loud noises, probably wouldn't be the best thing he'd experienced.
you can feel kenan's chest vibrate as he chuckles deeply, your head titling up to look at him.
"I could manage, though it was difficult without my pretty girl cheering me on.."
you smile at the silly response, rubbing your cheek against his t-shirt.
"good thing I'm here now.."
"I don't think I would've survived this without you.."
"you looked like you were having fun.." you retort, referring to him being all smiles when you walked into the room earlier.
"no, this is very much better." he whispers, patting your back, the touch making you feel drowsy against his chest.
within a few seconds, you're already dreaming of being home with him while he is recovering, smiling in your sleep at the soft and cosy feeling in your chest.
108 notes · View notes
ninetqs · 3 days ago
Note
trick or treat!!!
2024 season fwb lesbian lestappen fic i worked on for 3 days then abandoned (under the cut because nsfw)
It was always “princess” when she was younger, but not the flattering kind. When they called her that, they meant to dismiss her, to belittle her. You’re too pretty to belong here. You don’t really want this. They couldn’t stomach how well she drove, so they pinned her success on everything else. Her father, Jules—it surely had to stem from them, as if her talent were just a product of her surroundings rather than her own blood, sweat, and tears.
No matter what she did, how well she performed, it was always too pretty, too privileged, too lucky.
Until the wins started piling up. Then “princess” took on a new flavour, but it still didn’t taste any better. Now it’s said with a smile, a nod to how perfect she looks even after hours in the cockpit. Her dimples, her curls that never seem out of place, her lashes that stay long and dark. 
There’s only one person who can get away with saying it without lighting that spark of irritation.
“You are such a princess,” Max says with a chuckle, her eyes dropping to the bright red panties Charles is wearing. Still, somehow, despite Max’s best efforts.
“Not everyone fancies going commando in public,” Charles huffs, though her cheeks betray her.
“I wasn’t judging. I think they’re cute.” Max pinches the edge of the fabric between her fingers, pulling lightly at the hem. “They’ll look even cuter around your knees, though.”
Charles rolls her eyes, but the flush deepens. “Just get on with it before I change my mind.”
Max doesn’t hesitate. Her hands are strong as she lifts Charles by the thighs, positioning her with ease, before yanking at her panties with a deliberate roughness. The seam catches against her skin, sending a sharp jolt through her, heat pooling low in her belly, spreading like wildfire up toward her chest.
Months of dancing around each other, teasing, resisting. And for what? To give in so easily?
She squirms under Max’s gaze, feeling exposed, too open, laid out on the scratchy hotel bed. But exposed is exactly how Max likes her. There’s no question about that.
“You’re very pink down here,” Max observes. “Little princess with her princess parts.”
Charles swings a leg over Max’s shoulder, a warning more than a real kick. “You are so annoying,” she says through gritted teeth. “You can put your tongue to better use, no?”
“Your wish is my command,” Max drawls, and lowers her head to do exactly that.
-
Max’s tongue is sharp in ways that aren’t limited to her words. No matter how many times this happens, Charles is always surprised by how deftly she works her, mouth hot on Charles’s thigh.
“Let me—” Charles thrashes, but Max’s arm is secure around her stomach. “Let me, fucking—not like this,” she whines.
She hates it when Max makes her come before Charles can put so much as a hand on her. It feels a bit like she’s losing at something. Even though Max always insists she’s happy on her knees, Charles doesn’t buy it. Nothing feels better than being worshipped.
Max, predictably, ignores her and pushes a third finger in, her tongue tracing a slick pattern up her belly. “You come best when you have a little bit of a hard time with it,” she says.
“Fuck you—”
Max’s palm grinds against her clit, and Charles grunts. When she glances down between her legs, Max has a cheeky grin in place.
“I’ll fancy my chances with that,” Max replies easily, and nips Charles’ inner thigh like a cat. Charles throws her head back and moans.
There will never be enough time. Not enough to catch her breath fully while her heart races like a jackrabbit, and certainly not enough to do everything she wants to Max.
“Roll onto your stomach and spread your legs.”
Charles obeys without thinking. The first orgasm rolls through her when Max pulls at her hair, grinding her own cunt against Charles’ hips, dripping onto her. Then the second comes after Max forces her head down and rims her, the thumb on her asshole sending shudders through her whole body.
She never gets Max on her back that night.
40 notes · View notes
cave-monkey · 8 months ago
Text
Translated the opening to Monkey King 2009 for my own brain-itch reasons.
戏妖怪玩魔鬼
Toying with demons, playing with monsters
金箍棒你平是非
With the Golden-Hooped Staff, you settle all dispute!
戏妖怪玩魔鬼
Toying with demons, playing with monsters
金箍棒你平是非
With the Golden-Hooped Staff, you settle all dispute!
火眼金晴看天下
With piercing eyes, see the whole of the world
眨眨眼不皱眉
Wink without a care
戏妖怪玩魔鬼
Toying with demons, playing with monsters
金箍棒你平是非
With the Golden-Hooped Staff, you settle all dispute!
火眼金晴看天下
With piercing eyes, see the whole of the world
眨眨眼不皱眉
Wink without a care
小小猴头大另类
This littlest monkey is a baffling sort
天上地下有口碑
Known across heaven and earth
手中如意是宝贝
Magic treasure in hand
天地之间我怕谁
"In all of Heaven and Earth, who do I fear?"
美猴王好完美
The Handsome Monkey King is perfect
花果山石生金辉
The stone of Flower Fruit Mountain birthed golden splendor
美猴王真俊美
The Handsome Monkey King has beauty!
美就美在有作为
Beauty is found in the accomplished.
天地之间我怕谁
"In all of Heaven and Earth, who do I fear?"
0 notes
sehnsuchts-trunken · 3 months ago
Text
(Don't You) Steal My Thunder
my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles
Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words
summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.
a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.
again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth
masterlist | twisters masterlist
Tumblr media
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.
He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.
Tyler Owens is a problem.
And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.
Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.
And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.
It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.
Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.
Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.
But he's just such a fucking asshole.
You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.
Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.
Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.
Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.
Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.
You're just doing your job.
The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.
You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).
This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.
And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.
Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.
“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”
“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”
Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.
“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”
His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.
“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”
The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.
By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.
So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.
“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.
Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.
“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.
"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."
You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.
"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.
"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.
His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.
"I don't drink."
You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.
Not that you want to.
"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.
"I don't drink with you."
He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.
"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.
"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."
His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.
"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."
"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."
He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.
"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"
He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.
"I'm not a fan of you."
Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.
"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.
For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.
"I try."
With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.
"I'd still buy you a beer."
"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.
...
You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.
The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.
This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.
It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.
"Hey, weather girl!"
You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.
"What do you want, Owens?"
Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.
"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."
He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.
Not that you'd been about to.
Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.
You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.
You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.
You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.
It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.
Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.
You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.
"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.
"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."
"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."
You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.
"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)
"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.
The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.
"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."
He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.
"Cameras are off, I swear."
You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.
God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.
You're so, so stupid.
"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."
...
You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.
Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...
But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.
When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.
"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.
"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.
"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."
"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."
You pull your eyebrows even further up.
"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"
"Nope. Not familiar."
But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.
You just shake your head and turn away from him.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."
...
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.
The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.
Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.
That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.
Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.
It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.
You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.
But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...
"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.
"What?"
"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."
You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.
"You're shitting me."
Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.
"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.
His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.
It takes you a second too long to realise why.
"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"
"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.
"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."
"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."
The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.
"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."
You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.
"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"
"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."
He is.
He's right now. He's right usually.
Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."
You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.
He puts the bill flat on the bar top.
But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.
"The price just went up", he says.
You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.
"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"
He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.
"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.
A kiss.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.
Especially with that forecast.
The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.
"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."
...
At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.
"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.
"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."
"But it collapsed this morning."
You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.
"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"
You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.
"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."
...
You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.
You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.
You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.
He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.
And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.
It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.
"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.
"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.
"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"
"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."
Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.
"Alright, so we wait."
You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.
"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."
You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.
It makes reading close to impossible.
Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.
That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.
You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.
You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.
Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.
Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.
But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.
You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?
So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.
For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.
"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.
"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."
Well, it's hard to break bad habits.
Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?
Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.
"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.
Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.
You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.
"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:
"So I'm Watson, yeah?"
Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.
It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.
You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.
"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.
Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.
And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.
"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."
"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.
Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.
You want more of Tyler Owens.
"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.
"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"
"I could never."
"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."
His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.
"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."
His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.
"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."
And then your lips are on his.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.
He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.
You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.
"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.
"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.
But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.
You chuckle against his lips.
"If you feel it, chase it, right?"
2K notes · View notes
pretty-sparkle-bomb · 2 months ago
Text
idk im just thinking about something...
The bakusquad had been enjoying a casual walk after class, laughing and joking around, when Kaminari suddenly stopped in his tracks. His face scrunched up in a mixture of confusion and disgust as he pointed down the street.
"Brotha eww, what is that?" he blurted out, drawing the others' attention.
Mina followed his finger, her eyes locking onto a couple who seemed completely oblivious to the world around them, tangled up in a passionate kiss. She stared for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing, before wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Why are they making out in the middle of the street?"
Kirishima averted his gaze quickly, his cheeks flushing. "Stop staring, you guys, that's rude!" but his voice held a hint of curiosity like he was wondering what exactly was going on.
Sero squinted, leaning forward slightly as he tried to get a better look. "Wait a second," he said slowly, a dawning realization creeping into his voice. "Why do they kinda... look familiar?"
It was like a light bulb went off in everyone's heads at once. Mina gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "Ohmygosh, that's—"
"BAKUGO AND Y/N?!" they all yelled in unison, their voices overlapping as they stared in disbelief.
The couple in question didn't seem to notice the commotion they were causing.
Katsuki's hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you being even an inch away from him. Your hands rested on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself in the intensity of the moment.
Kaminari’s jaw dropped, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. "I did not need to see that," he muttered.
Mina, however, was already pulling out her phone, ready to snap a picture. "Oh, this is too good," she giggled.
Kirishima reached out to stop her. "No way, Mina! You can't just take a picture of them like that!" But there was no hiding the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Sero folded his arms, smirking. "I gotta say, I'm surprised, but... not that surprised? I mean, we all knew something was up with those two."
Mina paused, phone in hand, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess it was kinda obvious. But still, this is Bakugo! Mister 'I don’t have time for your stupid feelings!'" she made a groggy voice.
Kirishima laughed, shaking his head. "Guess he does have time after all."
As the group continued to watch, Bakugo finally seemed to notice them, his sharp eyes catching sight of his gawking friends. His expression instantly shifted from lovey dovey to pissed, his usual scowl making a fierce comeback. He pulled away from you slightly, though he didn’t let go, his hand now resting possessively on your waist.
"Oi, the hell are you extras looking at?!" he barked, his voice carrying down the street. His glare could’ve burned a hole through steel.
You quickly buried your face in his chest, a mix of embarrassment and laughter bubbling up inside you. Katsuki was clearly not having any of this, and his friends knew better than to push their luck when he was in a mood.
But Kaminari couldn’t resist. "Sorry, bro! Just, you know, didn’t expect to see you guys... uh... so cozy in public!"
Bakugo growled, tightening his hold on you. "Mind your own damn business!"
Sero waved his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright, we’ll leave you two alone. Come on, guys, let’s give them some privacy." he snorted, shaking his head.
Mina blew you a cheeky kiss before turning away, her laughter ringing in the air.
As they walked away, you peeked up at Katsuki, a smile tugging at your lips. "Well, that was... something."
He huffed, still glaring at his retreating friends, but when he looked down at you, his expression softened.
"Strawberry lipgloss? That one new?"
3K notes · View notes
slvttyplum · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
choso got weak at anything that you did; that wasn't a theory; your ego being too big for your head was not a fact; he would look at you, and it was like you could see little hearts form in his eyes whenever he looked at you; he was so head over heels, like a little kid seeing his first crush.
with everything being said, something in particular really made him weak, and he would pounce on you like a wild animal whenever he saw it.
you would occasionally wear this silk night gown that would show your tits at the top, and it was so short that he could see your ass; he just couldn't think whenever you wore it. every time you put it on, it turned into him having you bent over with his dick deep inside of you, so deep in fact that it felt like it was probing up to your stomach; you couldn't even breathe properly; that's how you knew the sex was too good.
i mean, it's not like he didn't try to resist whenever it came to you wearing this item, but every time he did, it just had his mind clouded. something was telling him to eat you up, and instead of listening to himself to just leave you alone, he just had to listen to the voice that was telling him to lick you from head to pussy, literally.
the way the night gown felt against his finger tips and that innocent look on your face you had before he pushed you onto the bed to give you what he knew you wanted—it was too much for him to handle, and even though he tried to hold back, he failed miserably and embarrassingly every fucking time.
choso didn't know what it was or wasn't; all he knew was that the way the dress laid on your body and slipped across every one of your curves made him want to give you what it was that he wanted to give you, and basically speaking, just saying he was "going to give you the dick you needed." was the tamest way it could be put.
at first, you were confused and shocked at the fact that he decided to fuck you and never stop every time you wore this, but then you decided to use it to your advantage and wear it every time you were craving an unhinged dick from your shy lover.
what else were you supposed to do? if it's not broken, don't fix it, right? so that's exactly what you did; you made sure to wear it every time you wanted to feel as though you were on your last breath when he was fucking you. one hand on your neck and the other on your waist, where he had stability when he was fucking you deep.
choso just couldn't help himself when it came to fucking you, but with this night gown on, it's like he lost all train of thought and decision-making when he saw this. he wanted to rip it off of you but thought it was sexier whenever you had it on, so instead of just taking it off, he fucked it off successfully each time.
the way it slipped off your shoulders first, then each time he thrust into you, it would slowly slide off the top of your breasts, and your whole boob would be out. he thought of it as a reward whenever he got to fuck you out of the dress, getting to see that beautiful body of yours in its full glory.
sometimes the lust got too much for him, and sometimes he just wanted to rip you out of the dress, but then he thought back on the fact that he wouldn't be able to see you in it anymore. that's the only thing stopping him from ripping it off of you and going nuts on your body.
he didn't like to call you a tease, but the way you would walk around like it was nothing with that dress on made him want to call you a tease. what else would he call it when you were looking so good in that night gown with half of your ass out and his dick pressing against his briefs waiting to fuck you up?
you didn't realize a tiny dress you had for a couple of years would have choso driven up a wall, but you weren't complaining; the way he fucked you made you want to wear it every night so you could feel his didck probe into your sweet spot repeatedly and our hands clinging onto the sheets with every thrust.
he was a man who couldn't hold himself back and got what he wanted every time.
"stop… stop wearing this shit."
2K notes · View notes
syluslnd · 25 days ago
Note
Hello! Been binged reading your Sylus hcs/fics and would want to try my shot in this request. How would Sylus react to MC using his black card but only spending it for like ice cream and simple stuff? Like, he's glad/amuse/or what that MC is using his card but became ?? when he saw what MC purchased? (I saw this thing on TikTok years ago but I couldn't remember the exact prompt). Tyia if this request makes it out!
sylus reaction to you spending his money
Tumblr media
Sylus sits behind his large, mahogany desk, the dim lighting of his office casting shadows over his sharp features. His usual composed expression falters slightly as he pulls up the statement from his black card, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
He expected charges for high-end jewelry, exclusive fashion boutiques—things that exuded status and wealth. Instead, his dark gaze trails over the unexpected: ice cream parlors and… plushies from a toy store?
He stares at the screen for a moment longer, processing before a soft chuckle escapes him—something rare, almost amused.
You walk into the room, unaware of the reaction you’re about to receive. Sylus leans back in his chair, a slow smile creeping across his face, arms folded. His gaze follows you as you approach, clearly waiting for something.
“I didn’t realize you had such… expensive tastes” he says, voice laced with amusement. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes but his tone carries that usual, unshakeable power.
You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”
He taps his fingers lightly against the desk, still holding the black card statement. “Ice cream shops and let’s not forget the… plushies?”
Your confusion deepens and you nod slowly. “Yeah, the stuffed animals were cute. I couldn’t resist. Why?”
Sylus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he stands up, stepping closer to you. “I gave you access to all my resources—jewelry, designer clothes, anything you wanted and you went for… a toy store.”
You stare at him, completely unphased by his teasing tone. “Well, yeah, what’s wrong with ice cream and plushies?”
He stops right in front of you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Nothing at all sweetie ” he says softly, though there’s a trace of disbelief in his voice. “But you could’ve bought anything—something expensive, something luxurious—and you chose… something so adorable.”
“I don’t need all that other stuff” you reply, still not understanding why he’s so surprised.
Sylus chuckles again, shaking his head slightly. His hand brushes your cheek gently, his thumb tracing your jawline. “You really are something else” he murmurs, eyes filled with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “I expected you to be just like everyone else. But you’re full of surprises.”
He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Next time, at least let me take you for ice cream.”
You tilt your head, finally catching on to his teasing tone. “Oh, you thought I’d use it for something flashy?”
He pulls back, his expression softening, though his smirk remains. “Exactly. But you’re far cuter than that.”
2K notes · View notes
swanlikely · 15 days ago
Text
Current Brainrot: Helping Husband Nanami! Unwind
Tumblr media
Author's Note: This scrumptious gem graced my timeline today, and I couldn't resist writing a fic about it. Do yourself a favor and follow the artist on Twitter, and while you're at it, check out her Patreon—it's totally worth it! (Artist & Her Patreon)
not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and i'll fix it!)
CW: AFAB! reader, usage of she/her, handjob (m! receiving), oral (m! receiving), pet names, role-play (prostitution), public sex
word count: 2k
✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖
Nanami was the epitome of dedication, tirelessly clocking in countless hours at the office to ensure his sweet wife lived in the lap of luxury. He was a gentleman in every sense. Yet, sometimes, this relentless work ethic could be his Achilles' heel.
Stress was making its unwelcome presence known in Nanami, with shadows deepening under his honey-gold eyes and the weight of the world pressing down on his broad shoulders. He was beat. After surviving yet another grueling twelve-hour shift, he was at his limit. All he craved was to return home to you, his loving wife.
And as his loving wife, you couldn't miss the signs. You saw how he would collapse into bed like stone after a long day, too exhausted to even finish his dinner. You heard the frustrated groans as he dragged himself out of bed each morning. But most importantly, you felt the strain in your bedroom.
Not to say Nanami wasn't satisfying you—quite the opposite, he was only satisfying you.
Despite his exhaustion, his touch was tender yet fervent, his kisses a mix of urgency and devotion. He'd make sure to lap at your cunt each night, with his talented tongue. Letting you know just how much he loved you, how he put your needs above his own. But that was exactly it—what about him? It worried you to no end; all you wanted to do was make sure your husband was happy. Seeing him give so much of himself, you felt a uncomfortable combination of gratitude and concern. You wanted to reciprocate, to show him the same level of care and passion. You longed to ease his burdens, to be his sanctuary just as he was yours. The thought of him carrying all that weight alone tugged at your heart, and you resolved to find a way to bring balance, to ensure he was taken care of as well.
Which was exactly why you weren't at home, playing the doting wife as always, but leaning up against his car hood, dressed in something completely out of character for you.
Fishnets, Daisy Duke shorts, and a tank top that hugged every curve clung to your body, making you a walking temptation. You watched your husband approach the car through glittery, half-lidded eyes. Letting out an exaggerated whistle, you purred, "Well, hello handsome," catching your husband's eyes.
He was just a few steps away, his furrowed brows and confused smile giving away his exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, and his button-up shirt was slightly wrinkled. It had clearly been another long day for him, and you were ready to melt away all that stress. But you couldn't do it as his wife; no, you needed to become someone else entirely. You had to offer him an escape from reality.
"What're you doing here, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice gruff and drawn out. His hair was still neatly groomed, and oh, you wanted to make a mess of that. Make a mess of him. "Also, I'm not one to tell you what to wear, but this is different." His eyes roamed your body, lingering over your breasts to the tips of your black heels. He was right, this was different.
"Mmhm, you like?" You bite down on your glossy, plump bottom lip. Nanami swallowed hard.
"Just a girl trying to make some money tonight," you continue, against the hood of his car. Your elbows prop you up, pushing out your breasts that were practically spilling out. "Ah, I see," he murmured. His eyes, though shadowed with exhaustion, now swam with an almost predatory hunger that swirled in the depths of his amber gaze.
You giggled at the fact that your husband was playing along with your little game, as he always did. Though tonight wasn't for you; no, it was all for him. Placing your delicate palm against Nanami's sculpted chest, he shivered for a moment. That was new.
"So, Mister, would you like to help a girl out and make use of my services?" Your voice was hot and breathy as you slowly undid the first button of his dress shirt. Nanami's eyes tracked the movement of your perfectly manicured fingers, lingering on the way they teased each button. A surprising rose-tint spread across his cheeks, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a vulnerable flush. You could get drunk off of him.
"What kind of man would I be if I didn't help a pretty girl like you out?" Nanami chuckled, a bit sheepish, as he fumbled with the car keys, finally managing to unlock the doors. Seeing such a strong, composed man acting so coy made your thighs clench. This outfit and role were really doing it for him, huh?
After hearing the car beep, you quickly pulled both yourself and your husband inside, sliding into the backseat. It was a tight fit, with Nanami's broad frame hovering over you, his arms and legs straddling your body. The closeness made you acutely aware of just how much bigger he was than you. Instinctively, his mouth found your neck, immediately shifting into husband mode. But tonight, you wouldn't let him neglect his own needs just to please you.
"Stop," you groan, fighting the urge to let Nanami do what he normally does. He immediately pulls away, his eyes filled with worry. He searches yours for answers but only finds eyes brimming with lust. "No touching, you're paying for my services, remember?" you giggle, pressing against his chest to flip him over. Now, you were on top, straddling his lap. His heavy cock pressed against you, straining against the confines of his trousers, yearning to be free. The two of you were panting, the heat between you making the car windows fog up. You were lucky the parking garage was deserted at this hour.
"I, uh, sweetheart…" he stammered, struggling to find the words as you mirrored his earlier actions. Your mouth traced a path from his neck down to the exposed part of his collarbone, licking and sucking gently. Lips parted and teeth against skin. You couldn't help but think, God, you needed to do this more often.
His hips jerked against yours, causing the both of you to throb with want. The fabric of your shorts was already damp, barely able to contain the heat building between you. Your hands roamed down his muscular frame, your fingers tease as they reached the zipper of his trousers. You fumbled with it, the anticipation making your breath hitch. His low groan in your ear sent shivers down your spine, and you pressed closer, feeling the urgency of his need matching your own.
"Please let me touch you, just a little," he pleaded, his grip tightening on the leather seat, veins on his arms standing out. The desperation in his voice sent a thrill through you. You had made Nanami Kento, usually so proper, whine like a slut. You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his, reveling in the power you held in that moment.
"Here, you can get a kiss, but it'll cost you extra," you laugh, pressing your open mouth to his. The kiss was sloppy, tongues intertwining with a fervor that made your head spin. His mouth was hot, and he tasted delectable—an unexpected blend of mint and cinnamon. You were melting into him. "Nghhh, sweet girl, let me touch you..." Nanami's voice was trembling, his restraint barely holding on. This was absolute torture for him; he wasn't used to being the one pampered.
"No," Your fingers hooked onto the belt loops of his khaki trousers, slowly tugging them down to reveal his throbbing cock, leaking precum. A frustrated moan caught in his throat as he waited for you to do something, anything.
His cock was pretty, more so than usual tonight. It was a darker shade of pink, thick and pulsing, with veins prominently visible at the base, likely from all the accumulated stress. Nanami hadn't cum in the past two weeks, so naturally, he was this pent up. His cock was so tempting, begging for attention.
As you wrapped your glossy lips around the tip, Nanami's hips jerked involuntarily, aching for more. The desire to thrust into the back of your throat and make a mess of your slutty makeup consumed him, but Nanami, being the gentleman he was, forced himself still. After all, he wouldn't want to harm his lovely wife, right?
But that's not what you wanted. You wanted Nanami to take out all his anger, all his stress, all his bad days on you. To defile you in a way he would a slut. That's who you were tonight, right? No longer his wife, but the whore he needed.
"Don't hold back, use me," you groaned against his cock, your mouth still wrapped sweetly around it. Drool dribbled down as you pleaded for him to let go. Getting Nanami to be rough was like asking to be struck by lightning—rare, but when it happened, it was electrifyingly intense.
"Such a dirty girl," without hesitation, Nanami began to buck his hips, driving his cock deep into your throat. Your mouth watered, saliva pooling at the base of his needy cock. He was so thick, making it a struggle not to gag. "Such a good whore for me," Tears welled up in your eyes, and your cheeks hollowed as you fought to keep up with his relentless pace.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…" He kept repeating, babbling at this point as he used your mouth. He was drunk on pleasure, feeling the plush, wet insides of your mouth and the back of your throat. The sensation was overpowering for him, and you could see it in the way his body shuddered and groans flying from his mouth. It felt so good watching him writhe in ecstasy, completely lost in the moment. His hands gripped your hair tighter, guiding you as he continued to lose himself in you. The sight of him so vulnerable only fueled your urge to push him further into this blissful state.
You began to hum as he thrust into you, the vibrations around his length driving him insane. He let out the most beautiful grunt, a sound that sent jolts straight to your dripping cunt. You could tell he was close; his movements were becoming erratic and more forceful, causing you to gag and choke each time he hit the back of your throat. Perfect. He needed this release, and so did you. The anticipation had been building for weeks, and now you were desperate to taste him, to feel that connection you had been craving.
"Sweetheart, I can't," he breathed out, his legs stiffening and back arching slightly, plunging him deeper into your throat. His tip was bruising your throat by now, but you didn't care. You needed to see your husband come undone. Using a free hand to grip the base of his length, you began to pump up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. You were going to send him into a spiral, make him regret not being more selfish these last two weeks, make him wish he'd never taken that overtime at the stupid office.
"Gonna come," he winced, the words dragging out as his handsome face contorted in pleasure. Nanami's grip tightened on the back of your head, thrusting his length into your throat with desperation. You could definitely feel the bruises forming, but the feeling only heightened the moment. His hot, salty cum erupted into your throat, filling your mouth and leaving you with barely any time to savor its taste. The sheer force of his release made your eyes water and throat flex, but you reveled in the raw, filthiness. As he pulled back, you licked your lips, catching the last remnants of him, a satisfied smirk playing on your face.
His mouth agape, cheeks flushed, and eyes completely spent as he was panting to catch his breath. You completely wrecked him. "God, you're...incredible," he managed to say between shallow breaths, still reeling from his orgasm. The sight of him so messy only made you want to see him like this again and again. You could see the way his muscled chest heaved, each rise and fall a testament to the pleasure you had just given him. His hands, which had been gripping you with such fervor, now lay limp at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if still remembering the feel of you.
As he slowly regained his composure, a lazy smile spread across his face. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.
"Now, how much extra for another kiss?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
"It's on the house,"
1K notes · View notes
obsessedwithceleste · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Cat Chronicles
(Or five times Theodore Nott *accidentally* stole your cat)
Theodore Nott x reader
word count: 5.9k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
Tumblr media
1
The first time your cat went missing, you didn’t think entirely too much of it. You knew many of the Hogwarts cats liked to gather behind the herbology greenhouse where a particularly plentiful patch of catnip grew. However, Gladys was never one to miss meal time, and when the time came to 30 minutes after her usual feeding time, you knew something was amiss. With a sigh, you made your way out to your common room where you saw Cho sitting by the fireplace with several other of your class mates.
“Has anyone seen Gladys wandering about? She missed feeding time and I haven’t seen her much today,” you say as you approach the group.
“I haven’t, sorry y/n. We’ll keep a look out for her though,” Cho tells you.
You let out a small sigh of disappointment.
“Thanks Cho,” you say before heading out to wander the halls of the castle, hoping to find your elusive, black cat.
You start out by the greenhouse where you see a whole gaggle of cats, but none with the sleek black coat that identified your furry friend. You then walked around the grounds a bit more with no luck, before moving on to the kitchens where several of the house elves promised to keep an eye out for the small black cat. You even checked several empty class rooms before coming to a stop outside the library. It wouldn’t hurt to check. Twenty minutes later, you were still completely out of luck. Tired and frustrated, you were about to call it a night when a loud chorus of voices turn down the hall. You look to see who it was and find a hoard of Slytherin boys making their way towards you. You recognized them of course, but didn’t exactly know them. What you did know however, was the mop of black fur one of the taller boys in the back of the group was holding.
“Gladys!” You exclaim, rushing towards the group of boys.
Their eyes all turn towards you and at the sound of her name, the fiesty black cat springs from the arms of the boy and runs towards you.
With a large grin of relief, you scoop the cat up into your arms, feeling her light purr as you scratch behind her ears. Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, you look up to see the group of boys still staring at you and your cat.
“Um, thanks, for finding my cat,” you say awkwardly, squeezing the cat to your chest lightly. The tall, brunette boy who had just been holding your cat only nods silently before turning and walking off, the rest of the group following, except one.
“Hey, sorry about Theo. He means well, really. Man really likes cats, but doesn’t have one of his own, so he sometimes makes friends with cats wandering the halls. We’ve all told him that he should probably stop, ah, borrowing, people’s cats, but he can’t seem to resist. Names Enzo by the way,” the boy says with a friendly smile, extending his hand out.
You take his hand, shaking it cautiously before a smile creeps it’s way onto your face.
“Thank you, Enzo.” You say, hesitating a moment before adding, “You know, Gladys is a picky bitch. Theo must be a pretty okay person if she let him carry her around.” You tell him before disappearing with your cat.
Tumblr media
2
The second time your cat went missing, you honestly didn't realize she was missing at all. Theo had found his way down to the kitchens about a week after the original cat incident. That's how he thought of it anyway. The kitchens were one of his favorite places to lurk as not many students knew of the secret entrance behind one particular painting of a fruit bowl. The real attraction that often drew the brunette boy to the hidden sanctuary however, was the constant stream of cats that often visited the house elves who happily offered up dishes of cream and other treats. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a particularly populated bowl of milk, Theo's eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar set of glowing yellow orbs.
"Hello there, Gladys," he said hesitantly, decently sure that was the name called out by the pretty Ravenclaw girl who had stolen the cat from him a few nights ago.
Well, stolen in this case was rather relative, as the cat was technically hers, he supposed. Hearing her name however, the little black cat pranced over, nuzzling her head affectionately against his leg with a soft purr. Picking the sweet creature up into his arms, Theo stroked her soft fur, thinking back to his encounter with her owner, a grimace reaching his face.
He had been a downright bloody idiot. That was for certain. Theo was not usually one to be rendered incompetent by the mere presence of a pretty girl. No. That was meant more for Enzo. Or even Draco sometimes. But never Theodore. In fact, Theo had quite the reputation for his tendency to sleep around which made the idea of his mind completely blanking at the sight of this cat's owner all the more embarrassing. Matteo had made fun of him ruthlessly later that night. What had he said again? Right. Absolutely nothing. Just nodded like a right dunce.
The only solace Theo had gotten from that night was when Enzo pulled him aside quietly and told him what the pretty girl from earlier had said about him. "He must be pretty okay." It was hardly a compliment, but after the fool he'd made of himself, it really was the best Theo could hope for. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Theo once again focused on the little beast snuggling contentedly in his arms, carefully scratching behind the ears, a spot he'd found the cat quite liked.
The sound of the entrance painting swinging open startled Theo; and he honestly wasn't sure if he was elated, or absolutely mortified that the very girl who had been previously plaguing his thoughts was stepping through into the kitchens.
You honestly weren't entirely surprised to see the boy from a few nights ago sitting on the floor, cradling your cat, when you entered the kitchens. After Enzo had admitted to you that the handsome brunette had a soft spot for the castle's feline population, you figured it was only a matter of time until you bumped into him here considering it was a hot spot for the four legged beasts.
"Hello. See you've managed to find my cat again," you say, offering a small smile to the boy in front of you. After your encounter with that particular group of Slytherins, you did a bit of asking around, finding that Theodore Nott, while a bit known for his escapades with the female population, was actually one of the more talented wizards of your year. And one of the more level headed. (But in comparison to Draco and Matteo, you weren't exactly sure how much credit to give him there.)
The boy blinks up at you once before seeming to find his voice.
"She's a sweet little thing," he says finally, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but you.
You cautiously move forward, more worried about spooking the boy in front of you than the cats. Sitting down, you allow a pretty little Siamese kitten to wander into your lap. Gladys hisses with jealousy, but remains snuggled in the arms of the boy.
"She really seems to like you. Bit surprising. She's really not much of a people person," you tell him.
Theo nods at you, an action you found yourself growing familiar with.
"Enzo told me." He replies curtly.
You open your mouth to respond, but don't quite know how, so you let an awkward silence roll over the two of you.
"Well, I find that Gladys is a very good judge of character," you say finally.
Theo lets out a small smile at this, continuing to stroke your cat's soft fur. After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with Theodore continuing to shower your cat with affection while you distract the many other felines, crowding the kitchen floor.
"Theo?" you wonder finally, the question burning away at you. The boy looks up, and you find yourself getting lost in the surprisingly soft brown eyes staring back at you. Breaking from the trance with a small shiver, you ask, "If you like cats so much, why don't you have one of your own?"
Theo's eyes immediately fall, and his hand freezes mid pet, much to Gladys' dismay. A pang of guilt washes through you.
"My father isn't much of an animal person," He replies stiffly.
You give him a small nod in response before rising from the floor.
"It's getting pretty late, I should get going," you say softly. "Gladys can find her way back to the tower on her own just fine," you add when you see Theo make no move to release the cat.
Without another word, you move to open the portrait door. You enter the hall with a small smile gracing your lips as you hear his voice quietly as the door closes.
"Thank you, y/n."
He knew your name.
Tumblr media
3
The next time Theo met Gladys was much sooner than he expected. He had left the kitchens several hours ago and was now laying in bed. The clock sitting on his bed side now read 1am. The deafening silence was about to finally lull him to sleep when an insistent scratching at the door caused his eyes to fly open. Sitting up, Theo glanced at the door warily before finally deciding to cross the room to find out what was causing the noise.
As soon as the door opened, a black shadow darted through, making a beeline for his bed. How it seemed to know exactly where it was going, Theo had no clue. Making his way silently back to his bed, careful not to wake either of his roommates, Theo was finally able to make out the dark shape of an ever familiar black cat.
"Hi there, principessa," he whispered, gently stroking the cat's ears before crawling into the bed next to it. Gladys seemed to take this as an invitation to curl up in the nook of his arm, and Theo wasn't about to object. The last thought he remembered before drifting off was how nice it would be if Gladys' pretty owner was there too.
"Theo, what the fuck."
Theo woke with a start, to the loud voice of Lorenzo Berkshire ringing out above him. His eyes opened to see the other boy hovering over his bed, a look of shocked confusion apparent on his face.
"Is that y/n's cat?" he asks, leaning down as if to get a closer look at the fluff ball still snuggled in Theo's arms.
"No way," Matteo laughs from the other side of the room. "You stole her cat again? What, is this some sick and twisted new way for you to lure girls into your bed?"
Theo launches a pillow at Matteo's head. He doesn't miss.
"You better go return that thing before y/n starts to worry," Enzo advises, going back to his own side of the room. "And maybe just ask her out while you're at it hmm?" He adds, quickly ducking behind his fourposter before Theo has the chance to send another pillow flying his way.
With a heavy sigh, Theo comes to a stop outside of what he's pretty sure is the Ravenclaw common room. He's about to raise his hand to knock, when the golden eagle head mounted to the door springs to life.
"What gets broken, without being held?" The eagle asks, blinking at him slowly.
Right. Theo knew about this. The most annoying of the common room doors because instead of a password, the bloody door required you to answer a riddle. Theo was about to turn on his heel to leave when he felt a light presence behind him.
"Hello Theo. Hello Gladys." The platinum blonde haired girl said, giving the two of them an airy nod, before turning her attention to the door. "Would it perhaps be, a promise?" she asks.
The door swings open and Theo quickly hurries after the girl, making his way up the staircase. He'd never actually been inside the Ravenclaw common room, and his breath hitched when they reached the top of the stairs. The main room really was magnificent, nothing like the dark, eerie dungeons of the Slytherin common room. Theo eyed the shelves of books lining the wall longingly.
"Her room is just there, up and to the left," the blonde girl he'd followed in says, breaking him from his thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Y/n? Her room is just there," the girl repeats, gesturing to a door at the top of another small flight of stairs.
"Oh. thanks," Theo makes out, giving the girl a nod of gratitude.
"Name's Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood." She says whimsically before floating off.
With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, Theo makes his way up the stairs and knocks gently on the door. Gladys lets out a meow of protest. Absolutely nothing could have prepared Theo for what was on the other side of the door. He felt his throat go completely dry as the door swung open and you stood in front of him in what was probably the shortest, skimpiest set of clothing that could possibly be considered pajamas. Theo tried not to stare, he really did, but he was only a man. A very weak and smitten man.
"Oh! There you are Gladys. I wondered where you wandered off to last night!" you say looking at your cat and then back up at Theo, and then again at your cat before looking back up at Theo expectantly. "Um. May I have my cat back?"
Theo jolts back to life, realizing he'd been staring and looks at you sheepishly.
"Sorry, don't know how this little one found me. Snuck her way into the Slytherin common room and then into my dorm. Didn't want to leave her in the halls alone, so I let her stay the night," he tells you.
You stare at the boy in shock, realizing that was the longest string of words you'd ever heard out of him.
"Wow Theodore, I'm impressed. I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk. And here I was thinking you were secretly illiterate," you say with a playful grin.
"Please," the boy scoffs. "I'm the picture of eloquence."
Interested in where this sudden burst of confidence that you didn't normally see from him had come from, you take a step back, inviting him into your room. He hesitantly accepts your invitation, bringing Gladys along with him.
"No roommates?" he asks, perching on the edge of your bed as Gladys purrs softly on his lap. At the moment, you found nothing more attractive than this man absolutely pampering your beloved pet.
"Not many Ravenclaw girls in our year, we had the option to share, but most of us opted for solo rooms. Wanted the extra privacy, I suppose," you tell him, leaning on one of the posts at the end of your bed.
Theo nods his head at this.
"I have two roommates," he shares.
"One of them happen to be Enzo Berkshire?"
Theo nods again. "And Matteo. Riddle" he adds.
You cock your head at that with a grin.
"Interesting pairing," you comment, imagining the chaos those two must bring with them.
"It never gets boring," Theo responds.
A moment of silence passes.
"I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. I hear you're exceptionally talented at potions. And Charms. And everything really." Theo lets out finally.
You raise an eyebrow at the boy, internally screaming.
Trying to keep your cool, you tilt your head, "I hear you are too."
It's like a switch flips inside Theo.
"Well, we're obviously perfect for each other than," He replies easily, a cocky grin beginning to spread across his face. "Meet you in the library tomorrow at 7? And bring the cat."
You let out a laugh as Theo rises from the bed, gently placing Gladys down on the pillow, before going to make his way out of your dorm.
"You only like me for my cat," you joke, shifting to watch as he crosses the room to the door.
"Not just for your cat," he assures you, "I love the outfit, wear it for me more often, hmm?" he says slyly before the door thuds shut behind him.
You look down at your outfit, jaw dropping open and heat rushing to your cheeks.
Tumblr media
4
Theo's head was pounding. Music pumped through the Slytherin common room and Theo could barely see through the crowds of people around him as he pushed his way to the circle of sofas occupied by his friends. Collapsing into a spot next to Matteo, the boy offered him another shot of who-knew-what which he quickly knocked back.
"When's that pretty little thing that's been occupying all your time gonna join us at one of our little gathering?" Matteo slurs out, gesturing to the large crowd around them.
Over the past several weeks, you and Theo had grown significantly closer; your first study date quickly becoming a daily occurrence as you found that you each were able to easily keep up with one another. Something about having a partner who was actually able to challenge you was exhilarating. From there, you found yourselves often seeking each other out simply for the sake of good company, Gladys largely increasing the number of these meetings.
"Don't know that Gladys would like it. Cat's aren't supposed to ingest alcohol," Theo responded, not quite drunk enough to fall for his friend's taunting.
Enzo places another shot in his hand, and Theo raises a brow at him, before knocking that one back as well.
"Did you ever ask y/n why in Salazar's name, she choose to name her cat Gladys?" Matteo asks. "If my name were Gladys, I'd being running off constantly too."
Theo thumps Matteo on the back of the head.
"You leave our cat out of this, she ain't do nothin wrong," he says, glaring at his friend.
"So now she's our cat is she?" Enzo asks, a smirk growing on his face. "Didn't know you and y/n were so serious."
"It's our cat damnit! If marrying y/n is what it takes to finally have a cat of my own, so be it," Theo says decidedly.
Enzo snorts at his clearly, very drunk friend. "Careful, or one might think you're only into her for her cat. And not the cunty kind."
Theo scowls at this. "Y/n says that all the time, but have you seen that ass? And the way she mopped the floor with Draco in potions the other day? She's perfect."
"Yeah? Why don't you go tell her that then?" Matteo says, wanting nothing more than to see a drunk Theo try to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower.
"You know what? I will. And I'll pet Gladys too." Theo states. A look of pure, intoxicated determination set on his face.
Lorenzo eyes his friend warily. While not exactly sober himself, he didn’t particularly like the look his friend was giving them.
“Aw c’mon Enz, don’t you try and be the voice of reason now,” Matteo drawls, sensing the hesitation coming from his friend. “Don’t you want to meet the lil thing our beloved Theodore has been obsessing over for weeks now?”
“I’m not obsessing,” Theo snaps, taking a sip straight out of a random bottle he’d picked up from the table.
“Let’s go. I’m gonna steal her cat. For real this time.”
With a wide grin, Matteo jumps up, ready to follow his friend wherever the night took him. With a low groan, Enzo followed suit, knowing that his pair of roommates would need some sort of guidance to prevent them from walking themselves straight of the edge of the astronomy tower.
You didn’t have a lot of expectations for the quiet Friday night that you were spending curled up with a book and your cat. It was late, and after a long and stressful week, the time alone with Gladys was just what you needed to really recharge. You had spent most of your day lounging out on the lawn next to the Black Lake with Theodore, studying with and harassing the boy. A small smile crept onto your face, remembering the way his brown curls had floated about in the soft breeze.
You really hadn’t expected for the two of you to become so close, so quickly, but you weren’t complaining. You’d grown quite fond of the boy, especially once he started opening up a bit more. You’d initially thought that he was a man of very few words, but quickly learned he was in fact very sharp witted and even a bit snarky at times. Time spent with him had easily become your favorite part of the day and was something you were constantly looking forward to.
A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit where you were sitting, Gladys letting out a yowl of protest.
You quickly cross the room and open the door to find a very miffed looking Cho, a frown imbedded on her face.
“Sorry to bother, but could you please come get your boy under control? He’s upsetting the portraits.” She says.
You blink once. Then again.
“Sorry?”
“Your Slytherin fellow? He’s out in the corridor with two of his friends harassing the door,” she explains, turning to lead you down the spiral staircase.
You’re not even halfway down when you begin to hear the voices.
“Who in the bloody hell would want to be in Ravenclaw with this blast-ended skewt ass looking-“
“Matteo you can’t curse out the door.”
“I’ll curse at the bloody door if I want to bloody curse at it.”
You grimace, looking at Cho who looks back with a similarly displeased facial expression.
“Sorry bout them. I’ll take it from here,” you tell her when you reach the bottom.
With a slight nod, she turns to retreat back up the stairs. With a sigh, you push the door open, almost taking out Matteo who had been leaning on it for support.
“Hi amore, fancy seeing you here,” Theo slurs, a grin taking over his face at the sight of you.
Enzo leans against a pillar, face in hands, looking like he wanted to disappear. You could smell the alcohol on all of them.
“Hi Theodore. Are you sober?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
“I’m moderately functional,” he replies with a lopsided smile.
“I’m taking that as a no,” you say, glancing worriedly at Matteo who was currently laying spread eagle on the floor. “Let’s get you boys back to your common room.”
“I wouldn’t. Party’s not gonna end any time soon. They’ll just get more hammered and start wandering off again,” Enzo advises, head still in hands. “Like herding hippogriffs with those two.”
“And Theo hasn’t proclaimed his undying love for y/n yet!” Matteo adds.
You feel heat rise to your cheeks and Theo glowers at his friend.
“It’s okay Theo, I know he’s drunk,” you say, not certain if you were saying it more to comfort him or yourself.
Theo ignores you however, turning his attention back to the door.
“Let us in, I just want to pet the cat,” he tells the door, swaying ever so slightly.
For Salazar’s sake. Man gets absolutely wasted and just wants to pet your cat. You go to grab onto Theo to steady him, but he has other plans. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair.
“Hi,” he mumbles, picking you up just enough that your toes barely touch the ground. “I missed you. Can we see the cat now?”
Not knowing what else to do, you glance helplessly at Enzo.
“Would you be able to get Matteo up the stairs?” You ask.
“I can try. He’s a stubborn bastard though.”
You turn back to the door, knocking once. The eagle once again moves to life, glaring at the scene in front of it.
“If the day before yesterday was the 23rd, what is the day after tomorrow?” It asks crankily.
“We’re too fucking wasted for this bloody bullshit,” Matteo moans from the floor.
You try to ignore Theo’s tight grasp on your waist and Enzo prodding at Matteo with his foot before answering. “The 27th.”
The door swings open and you try your best to haul Theo through, Enzo following closely behind with a very disgruntled Matteo. Dragging the boys up the staircase feels like the most difficult task of your life as you constantly tell Matteo to lower his voice and mind his mouth while also trying to ignore the very minimal distance between yourself and Theodore. When you finally make it to the top, you rush to herd the boys into your room before slamming the door shut behind you with relief. Theo immediately stumbles over to your bed, collapsing face first in the middle and snatching Gladys into his arms.
“No roommates?” Enzo asks, looking around the room and seeing the single empty bed that you had pushed into the corner at the beginning of the year.
“No, thank Rowena. I would not want to have to explain whatever this is.” You reply, motioning to Theo and Matteo who was now wandering about the room.
“Room’s a mess. Coulda at least cleaned up a bit,” he says, poking at the various books and blank scrolls lying about.
“Had I known I would be having guests at,” you glance at the clock, “almost 2 in the morning, I’m sure I would have.” You say dryly.
Retrieving your wand from your desk, you point it at the spare bed. “Engorgio.” The wooden frame creaks as it expands until it can comfortably fit 2 people. You look at Enzo.
“Good luck with that one,” you say, almost feeling sorry for the boy as Matteo flops onto the bed with a groan.
“Looks like you’re gonna need it more than me,” he replies, gesturing to Theo who was out cold, Gladys trapped and bug eyed in his grasp. With a sigh you and Enzo each resign yourselves to your respective charge.
“Theodore,” you whisper, giving the boy a light shove. No sign of life. You give him a slightly harder shove, allowing Gladys is wriggle out of her prison. Frowning, you sit down on the edge of the bed, using most of your body weight to shove Theo to one side of the bed before sliding under the covers. Now deeming it safe, Gladys hops back into the bed, nestling into your arms happily. You’re about to close your eyes when you feel arms snaking around your waste, pulling you into the very warm chest of Theodore Nott. You freeze, holding your breath, not sure if the boy is asleep or not.
“Goodnight mi amore,” he whispers into your neck, causing the hairs to prickle.
Definitely not asleep.
“Goodnight Theodore.”
You hadn’t had any expectations for the night really, but you definitely had not expected to have multiple overnight guests who were trying to steal your cat. And you most certainly did not expect to drift off in the arms of Theodore Nott.
Tumblr media
5
The next morning you wake up missing the usual lump of fur weighing down on your chest. Immediately you bolt upright, eyes shooting around for any sign of your furry companion before the events of last night wash over you. Enzo and Matteo are both still out cold and when you look down, your jaw drops open. Theo is fast asleep, back facing you, Gladys snoozing contentedly while cradled in his arms. Even in his sleep this absolute tosser had managed to steal your damn cat.
Careful not to wake the boys, or Gladys, you silently sneak across the room and disappear out the door. Once you’re safely out of hearing distance, you make your way quickly down the kitchens. A little known fact about the Hogwarts house elves was that many had once served in the homes of different wizarding families at one time or another. This meant that many of the elves were all too familiar with the valuable hangover potion that you sought.
Ducking in through the portrait hole, it wasn’t difficult to persuade the elves into handing over 3 glistening blue vials. You had always been kind to them, often chatting with them during your visits with the cats.
Your task complete, you made your way back to Ravenclaw tower, taking your time as you didn’t expect the boys to be up any time soon. They really had been plastered. Not even Enzo had been completely sober you recalled.
You’re just passing the entrance to the dungeons when a voice calls out.
“Hey! You!”
You’re ready to continue on your way before noticing that there was no one else in the corridor they could be referring to. You turn to see two girls you recognized as the Greengrass sisters hurrying towards you.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the shorter blonde girl says when they get closer. You’re pretty sure that one is Astoria. “You’re the girl Theo has been seeing right?”
You nod your head cautiously. You knew Theo had a reputation for getting around, so if that’s what this was about, things were about to become quite awkward.
“You haven’t happened to see him or Matteo or Lorenzo, have you?” The other girl, Daphne, asks.
“Draco said he saw the three of them leave the party together last night, but no one saw them come back,” Astoria explains.
You feel yourself immediately relax. Good. At least this was something you could help with.
“You two are lucky you found me then I suppose,” you tell them, gesturing for them to follow. “The three of them tried breaking into Ravenclaw tower last night, so I let them crash in my dorm.”
“Oh Salazar. Were they trying to steal your cat? I’m so sorry. When Matteo gets drunk he has a tendency to try and egg Theo on,” Astoria frets.
You give the girls a strange look. “You know about my cat?” You ask, surprised.
“Oh sure,” Daphne replies. “Whole group does really. Boys came back one night going on about how Theo was just smitten with some Ravenclaw with a cute cat. And I can see why. You’re gorgeous by the way.”
You blush at her statement, diverting the subject away.
“The boys should probably still be asleep. I just ran down to the kitchens to get these,” you tell them, brandishing the potions you had gathered. “Once they’ve downed these, they’re all yours.”
Astoria eyes the potions with jealousy and you realize the two girls were probably decently hung over as well.
“Oh you can keep Theo, we were really just looking to collect Enzo and Matt,” Daphne laughs, giving you a sly look. You open your mouth to reply, but stop realizing you had reached your common room door.
After a few attempts, you’re finally able to solve the blasted riddle and the door swings open.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had this many Slytherins in our common room before,” you joke, leading the girls up to your room.
Pushing the door open, you’re unsurprised to see the boys still passed out.
“This must be the infamous Gladys,” Daphne whispers, quietly approaching Theo who was still clutching onto Gladys as if his life depended on it. Again you’re surprised that these girls apparently even knew the name of your cat.
The two coo at the sight of your cat, coming to the conclusion that she was indeed worthy of warranting cat theft before Astoria finally decided it was time for them to get the boys out of your hair. They migrated over to the other side of the room where Enzo and Matteo were sound asleep, leaving you to deal with Theo.
You decide the easiest route, may just be to lure Gladys away, so you fetch her food dish before accio-ing her kibble container. At the sound of her food, Gladys was up and running, darting over for her morning feast. At the sudden loss of fluffy heat, Theo groaned, rolling over, face down into the pillows. After giving Gladys her food, you move back to Theo, giving him a rough shake.
“Come back to bed principessa,” he grumbles, reaching out and flailing his arm in your general direction.
“It’s time to get up Theodore. Come on, I got you three hangover potions,” you say, waving one over his head.
“Did someone say hangover potion? Give,” Matteo demands from the other side of the room. You look over to see Daphne and Astoria sitting on the side of the bed while Matteo and Enzo were groggily waking up.
Pulling out her wand, Daphne gestured for you to toss her the potions which her magic catches easily, levitating the vials over to the other two boys. Matteo snatches one out of the air, quickly downing half before offering the other half to Astoria. Enzo does the same, giving the second half to Daphne who graciously accepts. After a moment, the four of them are looking much more awake.
“Thanks for making sure these three didn’t drown themselves in the lake,” Astoria says, once the potion had really kicked. “And sorry you’re not having more luck with that one. He’s always been a late riser.”
“You’ll be lucky to get him up in the next hour,” Enzo agrees, rising from the bed. “Thanks again y/n.”
The four of them shuffle out of your dorm, a chorus is thanks and apologies strung along until they reached the door. Even Matteo gave you a nod of gratitude. Once they were all gone, you collapse once more onto your bed.
“They finally gone?” You hear Theo ask, as he rolls over to look at you. You nod, faces so close that your noses are practically touching and you can feel small puffs of air as he exhales. “Thanks for last night. I’m sorry for trying to steal your cat.”
You let out a snort at that. “Did you know when I woke up this morning, you had turned away from me completely, and stolen my cat away from me in your sleep?” You ask with a laugh.
Theo at least has the decency to look embarrassed as Gladys joins the two of you once more.
“I should do this more often,” Theo says finally, reaching out to stroke Gladys’s fur.
“What? Get downright plastered and break into my room, or steal my cat?” You scoff.
“Sleep in your bed with you.”
You freeze, looking up to see if the boy was being serious. His eyes blink back at you unwavering.
“You can come back any time,” you tell him, snuggling your way into his chest, ready to fall back asleep in the boy’s arms.
“Will Gladys be here?”
“Oh my god, yes she will be here,” you say dramatically throwing your head back.
Theo grins down at you, leaning in and pressing his lips softly against yours.
“I’m only joking amore,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your nose.
“Of course Gladys would be here, she adores me.”
“Get out of my bed.”
Tumblr media
A/N
My biggest regret in life, is being highly allergic to cats </3
5K notes · View notes
00kittenz · 2 months ago
Text
── desperation. ( psh ) 📠
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pair: boss!sunghoon ㅊ employee!f!reader | warnings: smut, secret relationship, age gap (sunghoon is 10 years older), semi-public s.x (?), hoon is a needy boi, coercion, quickies, dirty talk, piv, no lube, no protection (don’t be like them!) | words: 1.4k
imagine boss!sunghoon being so needy n desperate for you at all times, he just can’t seem to keep his hands off you.. just needs to cop a feel whenever he can bc he’s that obsessed w you ;( he’s also willing to skip important business meetings just so he can bring you into his office when no one’s around and have you bent over his desk— loving the way your curves hug the work uniform in all the right places..
this is my very first ever post on enhablr !
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
“please?” sunghoon’s desperation grew as time went on, nothing but lust clouding his judgement. he had you pushed up against his desk, caging his arms around the slope of your waist, hindering you from any retaliation, utterly defenseless in his hold.
“i promise i’ll be super quick..!” he pleads even more, pressing wet kisses all over your face, his pouty lips still lingering along the rim of your jaw afterwards. “just need you, so so sooo bad.”
sunghoon has been “negotiating” with you for the past ten-ish or so minutes, playing every trick in the book he possibly can in getting you to fold like a sunday lawn chair for him. what may have prompted all this you wonder ? well, he simply got hard at the sight of you and now you’re the one in ‘trouble’ because he can’t function while being bricked up at work. you two had an odd relationship to say the least… he was your boss, the man you reported to every day and pick up his morning coffee before he arrives at 8 AM sharp, but you also sleep with him sometimes?? (you thought it would be just a one off occurrence but sunghoon wanted it to be a more frequent, fwb type of deal..)
you were seriously hoping that he’d leave you alone today, you had a lot of work that needed to get done within a short timeframe and distractions weren’t going to do you any good, however, you couldn’t just say no to park sunghoon. there were dozens of other women who’d kill to be in your position, they already tried to seduce him one, two many times before— except you of course. you were like the golden employee who always followed orders, listened to directions the first time, and did everything the right way, he’s never really had to reprimand you and even on the rare chances you do mess up, he’d handle it with you in private; just like how he’s doing now.
hell, sunghoon makes it excruciatingly hard to resist him. especially when his breath inched beneath your ear, silky strands of jet black hair tickling your chin as he begs for your touch.
“i told you i was busy— hoon, s-stopp !” you helplessly whine, your mind kept telling you to refuse but your body was saying a completely different story. he knew exactly where to pull the pin, knew just how to make you give in to his not-so-safe-for-work desires.
“oh are we now ?, too busy for me ? what happened to wanting to get that new promotion, huh ?” he cocks his head to the side, turning arrogant all of a sudden now that he can use something as leverage over you. it’s a shame that he has to stoop to such low levels but he’s willing to try whatever method that’ll get him exactly what he wants.
as he whispers in further detail all the naughty things he wants to do to you, your legs were brought to a tight close, wanting nothing more than to relieve the ache you felt between your plush thighs; you feel dirty, disgusting for wanting your boss to fuck your brains out, it’s unprofessional, you shouldn’t be doing this— letting him have access to you whenever he wants almost felt dehumanizing.
though, you be lying if you said he didn't strike a bone in your body, maybe 3, or 4.. 10 at most. hell, maybe even all of them. some days you were able to keep your cool and act as though he had zero effect on you— however, he was just so unable to resist at times. you couldn’t help but be attracted to him; even if he was an asshole sometimes, you secretly liked it in a sick, twisted kind of way. if he was going to play this little game then you may as well play right along, plus you weren't gonna just walk around with soggy panties without getting something in return, right ? right.
“oh ? giving in already, guess you really do want it that bad, huh ?” he smirked childishly as you finally cave in, rubbing up against him, spreading and burying his knee between your thighs.
“shut up, do you wanna? or not ?” so over his annoying little antics, you gradually wiggled your hips against his toned, muscular thighs.
“it’s cute when you act all needy for me.” his hands caressed your waist, taking your leg to his hip, in effect your pencil skirt riding up your thigh.
you felt his clothed dick against your core as he pressed his body against you. sloppily taking your tongue against his.
you've always wondered how this man could get you so hot and sweaty all over a few words. then again, as long as you’re pleased; does it really matter ?
“fuck..” you spoke, hand grabbing at his tie, the melody of his luxury belt being unwrathed gave you a tsunami of chills. “quickly, i have a meeting in..” you checked you wrist, reading the analog watch that sat delicately along your veins. “15.” you heaved heavily, he tugged down your tights physically prepping himself with his hand.
“thats enough time to make me bust twice.” he chuckled. his length entered your puffy, dewy pussy.
“quick busser !” you laughed, knowing it'd strike a chord within whenever you tease him.
taking your ass in his hands before he paces himself. “you love when my dick coats your pussy in a thick coat. so, suck it.” he groaned, kissing onto your collarbone to keep himself quiet.
his office wasn't what people would call sound proof, but at a good distance from the door, nobody could be able to hear you. but keeping you quiet would deem to be the most difficult part.
sunghoon bear hugged you keeping you tight against him, he thought fucking you in your work attire, especially your tights, had to be the sexiest shit to dance on this earth. it's honestly why he's here. the way the thin black fabric wrapped around your thighs, he could just picture your sloppy pussy, wrapping around him. balls deep. and you took him so. so. so. well.
“ugh, yesyesyes..” your ragged breathing swam through his ears, giving him an ounce more of stamina. “shit !” your clit throbbed at his lower abdomens slight back to back friction, you grind up onto him, to feel more of that reminiscing release edging you.
he nibbled at your lips before taking them against his. “shut the fuck up. you dont— hell..wanna get caught do you ?” he swatted your thigh, thrusting himself at a slower, but rougher notion.
“fe—feel so good, nggh.. hoon..” you whispered, biting at his ear.
your forehead glistened with sweat, the buttons of your shirt leaving your perky breasts opposed and exposed. you threw your head back at the pulsating between the two of you, you could feel him. throbbing, and hardening inside of you, and it turned you way the fuck on. just as your pussy throbbed against his hard.
“c'mon mama.. you wanna drench your boss’s cock? huh ?.. wanna make it all gooey with your cum ?” he pushed you closer and closer with his words, as if him ramming into you wasn't enough.
“yes.. wan' make it gooey, baby !” you whispered under your breath. throwing your head back, leaving your boobs to bounce under the escaping light of his blinds.
“then cum, be a good girl..” sunghoon’s breath quickened, he was near the edge himself, if not on it.
the two of you, moaning into each other's lusty mouths, aching for more. your groans becoming quickened and hoarse as the burning knot in your stomach leaves you in discomfort. until a strong stroke came to pop that growing bubble inside you, releasing you of all your numbness. you came onto his thickness.
sunghoon, lost it at the feel of you tightening around him, lays you down onto the desk, pushing down on your stomach. he could feel himself through passing through your entrance. just thinking about it, left him blissful.
“fuck, fuck ! 's fuckin' right, squeeze me baby..” he finally broke, leaving all his pellent inside of you, slowly pumping himself a few more times before sliding out. his figure, breathing heavily, leaning onto your heaving chest.
you could hear him chuckling after awhile of comfortable silence. “looks like you're gonna be late for your meeting miss. y/n.”
“you so owe me.” you glare up at him as if this was all his fault.
“i do ?” he kissed your tummy.
“yeah, you do actually.”
“and what may that be?” he raises his brow, pushing up his thin framed glasses.
“a real date.”
“can i take you back to my place after ?” he kissed your tummy through your shirt once more.
“deal.” you grinned, catching your breath.
you were a dirty mess. a mess that sunghoon, had absolutely no problem with cleaning up.
2K notes · View notes
shradsmanifestt · 4 months ago
Text
How I always end up manifesting everything I want.
I persist. That's the simple answer. I affirm and persist no matter what. I know for a fact that the minute I decide I want something, it is mine no matter what. For me, there is simply no time to second guess or dwell on the different circumstances that I could be facing, or ponder on how the fuck will this actually come into fruition and all those bullshit. I simply realise the fact that all of these are not my problem. Not my responsibility. All I have to do is persist on what I want no matter what. And that's exactly what I do too.
Alright so I'm a human being right? I have have thoughts and feelings and yes there are times when I too used to feel overwhelmed or irritated because of my 3d circumstances. But I never stopped persisting regardless. I would just affirm quietly in my mind and even though this isn't necessary, I would at times imagine and feel how the stuff that I'm affirming are actually true in my reality because I said so and that's it. Now lemme tell you, you absolutely don't have to feel it real and no you don't even have to believe in your affirmations. I just do it because I like too. Even when I don't actually completely believe in what I'm affirming to be true in my reality at the moment, I know that since my imagination is my true reality and I'm affirming for my desires my affirmations are true as well. I don't know if this makes sense to you, but in simple words I believe and feel my affirmations to be true because I create my reality and me affirming them makes it true in my reality.
This is how I go about all my manifestations. For some I just simply decide and it becomes so and if there are some that I have more resistance too I love robotic affirming for that.
My posts on tumblr are all my personal thoughts and experiences and I'm glad that soooo many of you are finding it really helpful. Every time you feel like asking me a question, I want you to stop and think of the answer yourself. I would be sharing my success stories too so that it would help motivate you guys , but I have to say that if we're looking in that direction then everything that happens in my life is my success story since we do create absolutely everything.
Life is like a blank paper and we add to it everyday.
2K notes · View notes
star-anise · 4 months ago
Text
Currently getting my socks clean blown off by Rethinking Narcissism, by Dr. Craig Malkin. Which I found, in a roundabout way, from this video on Midsommar, grief, and narcissism.
Tonight I woke up from a nap and accidentally took my morning meds, so I'm going to be up for a few hours because of the meth. In place of sleep, I'll try to roughly sum up some basic ideas proposed by the research the book is based on:
That traits of "narcissism" like entitlement, grandiosity, and feeling special are not inherently toxic. There are times and places they are appropriate and beneficial. If you show up at a hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest, you should not sit and wait to be seen after people with earaches and coughs. (Actually, medical systems are designed to prioritize people with more urgent needs, and you qualify under that system. You are special and are deserving of different treatment than those others, which is why making your needs known, even insisting on it if you're not listened to appropriately the first time, is an extremely good idea. It keeps you from bleeding to death on the floor, and keeps the hospital from getting its pants sued off by your heirs.)
It is more useful to view "narcissism" not as an inherent immutable personality trait, but as a cluster of coping mechanisms. As previously stated, there are times they are exactly the right coping mechanism for the job. However, people we call "narcissists" tend to cling to these ones even when they become detrimental to themselves and others, often because they lack other ways of regulating their emotions and getting their needs met. And that is something they can change, if a person is willing to put in sincere and difficult work. It is not usually fast change; it's a matter of years, not weeks. But a skillbuilding approach turned Borderline Personality Disorder from an immutable curse to a fully treatable (though not quickly treatable) condition, and there's a lot of hope that it can do the same for Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
Meanwhile, there's an opposite end to the narcissism spectrum, and it is also pathological and destructive to hang out there all the time. It's an aversion, or even a resistance, to expecting yourself or other people to treat your own feelings, thoughts, ideas, needs, or preferences as important. For Greek mythology reasons, its proposed name is Echoism.
Unfortunately, because most of the damage echoism does is, by its very nature, localized to its sufferer and their own personal relationships, its downsides aren't often talked about. In fact, it's often seen as an ideal moral state, a kind of altruism or saintliness everyone should strive for. As a pathological coping mechanism a person is trapped in, though, it's often more a fear-based reflex than a conscious and deliberate attempt to achieve some real and specific good. It's not actually as beneficial as being able to recognize your needs, desires, positive aspects, and areas of competence or excellence, and bring them forward in your relationships with other people and yourself.
To me this has all been a cross between a gut-punch and a cool, sweet drink of water. There have been other ways to describe echoism over the years, but this feels like the most concise and useful one I've seen in ages.
It specifically puts its pin down in the middle of the moral debate a lot of people struggle with—"What right do I have to put myself forward? What hope do I have of being seen and accepted? Isn't it better not to burden anybody else?"—and says that the problem is not feeling in touch with either side of the equation, but specifically, the inability to move from one part of the spectrum to another when it's merited by circumstances.
When I was a child, I thought Echoism was the answer. It was my ideal. I thought it was what would get me the love and acceptance I wanted, and would keep me safe from the pain of rejection or not being understood. I had no idea it would actually, in fact, be the primary cause of alienation and loneliness for the rest of my life.
Now I'm so deeply thankful I couldn't fully achieve it, in practical terms. As hard as I tried to erase myself, there were always things I loved too much to suppress. I still found ways to express and discover myself in the books I read, the stories I wrote, the intellectual work of school and the experience of pursuing hobbies I loved, my ambitions to be helpful even when they demanded I stop being selfless, and the relationships where I felt safe enough to experience love and acceptance even if I didn't think I deserved them.
There's this question I found a while back that echoed in my bones: Who am I allowed to be around you? Because that's what I felt like, as a child. If I wanted to engage with other people and minimize my risk of harm, it was my job to bend into a pretzel and fit the shape they wanted. And thank god, thank god, thank god, I couldn't fully do it. Despite everything, there were parts of me too strong and bright to lop off completely to get my arms and legs inside the carriage. I was able to take care of myself and let them grow in secret until I found social places I could let them out again. Despite myself, I found ways to grow and thrive, well beyond the trauma that said I shouldn't have.
1K notes · View notes
jaysng · 3 months ago
Text
post arguement — park jongseong
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: nonidol!boyfriend!jay x girlfriend!reader
genre: angst, fluff
word count: 958
REBLOG if you enjoyed
it had been a tense twenty-four hours since the argument. you could still feel the heaviness of the unsaid words lingering in the air, the way jay’s eyes kept darting toward you, hoping for a sign that things were back to normal. but you weren’t quite ready to give him that satisfaction yet.
you weren’t ignoring him, not exactly. but there was a distance, a coldness that hadn’t been there before, and jay could feel it with every fiber of his being. he knew he had messed up—he was painfully aware of that—and he wanted to make it right. so, he decided to do the one thing that might soften you: cook your favorite meal.
he moved around the kitchen with purpose, gathering ingredients, chopping vegetables, and measuring spices. the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was the only noise that filled the otherwise silent apartment. jay glanced over his shoulder, hoping you’d notice, but you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, pretending to be more interested in the screen than in him.
he sighed softly, turning his attention back to the food. “okay, let's see… a little bit of garlic, and then… what’s next?” he mumbled to himself, opening the fridge and pulling out the ingredients for your favorite dish.
“maybe some extra basil this time,” he said, as if he were consulting with someone. “she likes that, right?” 
he glanced at you again, but you didn’t look up, your focus still on your phone, though he could tell by the way your fingers hesitated that you were listening. jay smiled a little to himself, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to soften.
as the aroma of the food began to fill the apartment, you felt your resolve weakening. it was your favorite, after all, and jay knew exactly how you liked it—down to the last detail. you tried to stay focused on your phone, but your stomach had other ideas, grumbling softly in response to the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.
you finally couldn’t resist any longer. quietly, you slipped off the couch and made your way to the kitchen, your bare feet padding softly against the floor. jay heard you coming, but he didn’t turn around, pretending not to notice as you moved closer to the stove. you leaned over the pot, inhaling the rich, savory aroma, and before you knew it, your hand was reaching for a spoon to sneak a taste.
just as you brought the spoon to your lips, the soft strumming of a guitar filled the room, followed by the familiar voice of ed sheeran singing one of his sweetest love songs. you froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth, as jay finally turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
he crossed the small space between you in just a few steps, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. his chin rested gently on your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his body against your back. “caught you,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.
you didn’t pull away, but you didn’t lean into him either, still holding onto the last bit of your stubbornness. jay swayed gently, moving you both in time with the music, his arms tightening around you just a little bit more.
“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your ear, his voice soft and sincere. “i know i messed up, and i hate that i hurt you. please forgive me?”
you stayed silent for a moment longer, letting the words sink in, feeling the way his heart beat steadily against your back. slowly, you turned in his arms, looking up at him with a mixture of emotions in your eyes.
“you always do this,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “say things you don’t mean and then try to fix it later.”
jay’s eyes were pleading, filled with guilt and a longing to make things right. “i know. i’m trying to be better. i just… i just want us to be okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll do whatever it takes.”
you didn’t say anything, but the way you rested your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around him in return, spoke volumes. jay let out a relieved sigh, holding you close as you swayed together to the music, the tension between you finally beginning to melt away.
the song played on, and for a little while, you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the music and the moment say everything that words couldn’t. as the final notes faded away, jay pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness.
and in that moment, you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. not when he was looking at you like that, not when he had gone through all this trouble just to make you smile again.
“just… don’t let it happen again,” you said softly, the words not harsh but still carrying a weight.
jay nodded, his expression serious. “i promise.”
you leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, letting him know without words that you were ready to forgive, ready to move forward together.
“thank you,” jay whispered against your lips, his voice filled with gratitude and love. 
“just don’t burn the food,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you rested your head against his chest once more, letting the warmth of his embrace and the sweet scent of your favorite meal fill the space between you, knowing that everything was going to be okay.
Tumblr media
do not copy or repost my work — @/jaysng
939 notes · View notes
notmyneighbor · 7 months ago
Text
Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 1
Word Count ~1k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ blood and gore, character death, eventual smut(not in this chapter)
Excerpt ~ You know it’s not Francis peering at you through the glass window.
You know it, even though he looks exactly like him, every feature carefully duplicated: the sleep deprived smudges on the frail skin underneath his eyes, the narrow chin and a long nose, that unblemished complexion as smooth and pale as the milk he delivers.
They’re getting better at the replication.
It’s getting harder and harder to tell them apart from real humans now.
Also available on AO3
Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You know it’s not Francis peering at you through the glass window.
You know it, even though he looks exactly like him, every feature carefully duplicated: the sleep deprived smudges on the frail skin underneath his eyes, the narrow chin and long nose, that unblemished complexion as smooth and pale as the milk he delivers. They’re getting better at the replication. It’s getting harder and harder to tell them apart from real humans now.
Yet there’s still something off. Something in the way the flesh sits on his bones. Almost a shift, like a mirage in the desert: a shimmery, not quite real haze that’s there and gone again in the blink of an eye. He lays his fingers against the glass, splayed directly across from your face. The pretender’s lips curve into a smile. “Let me in,” he says, and it’s identical to the real milkman’s voice, that same sleepy, gentle tone you’re used to hearing day in and day out, and your heart lurches. When had it happened? When had he been taken? During a delivery? Lured into some back alley? Some devious doppelgänger asking for help, maybe, and of course he’d obliged, he was kind like that, he’d never refuse anyone. You envision the wire rack cradling the bottles of dairy product dropping from nerveless fingers, the glass shattering. White mixing with the bright red blood that leaks out of him all over the pavement.
You wince at the gruesome image. Poor, trusting, foolish man.
“Let me in,” he says again, and the words drag at something deep inside of you. A glint of something feral in the dark eyes now. This imposter knows you can sense his deception. “I know what you need. I can give it to you…”
Another chord strummed on the string of your spine, vibrating along your body. Had he taken over Francis’ thoughts? Sorting through the milkman’s memories like digging through a box of old photographs, perhaps. Choosing which ones to keep and which ones to discard. Had the unfortunate third floor resident known about your hopeless crush? He must have. How else would this creature target your desires so readily? The knowledge of this wounds you. Francis had known, and he hadn’t acted on that knowledge. No return of your feelings. Maybe he’d just been shy.
Or maybe he just didn’t feel the same way.
“You must be so tired, working so hard. You deserve to rest. Collect a reward.” His tongue darts out to moisten his lips and this is the first foreign gesture that completely confirms your suspicions: this is not Mr. Mosses.
Everything you need is right in front of you. The entryway door is still securely locked. The rotary phone is mere inches away. You can call in the team at any time now. Save everyone. Except for Francis, of course; it was too late for him.
“Sweetheart, please let me in.” Attracting flies with honey. His voice dripping affection. His fingertips blanch against the glass. The brim of his cap slides further down his brow. A single track of perspiration leaks down his cheek. The body still fighting, even now. Resisting. Rejecting the invader. But it was too little, too late.
“I can’t let you in.”
His head snaps up and the eyes are bloodshot, spidery lines of crimson streaking across the white orbs. A thin trail of saliva drips from one corner of his mouth. “Can’t, or won’t?” Straight to vinegar now. Acidic tone. It lashes against you. You’re shaking.
“I know what you are,” you declare in a whisper.
The replicant raises his free hand, fingers curling into a fist before striking the pane. It rattles in its casing and you gasp. You’d always thought the material was shatterproof. “You don’t know anything. How can you? You run unchallenged for a small fraction of years and you think you know all there is to in the universe. Such arrogant, fragile things you are,” he murmurs, and the sudden calm unnerves you even more than the rage.
You begin to reach for the receiver and his fingers slide down the glass, squeaking as they go. “Wait. Don’t do that.”
You pause, hand still outstretched. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. You don’t have to be one of the mindless sheep.” His nostrils flare, inhaling deeply. “Francis loved that fragrance you wear. He liked so many things about you. You’ll never know how much if you make that call.”
You suck in a sharp breath. Was it true? Or just a ruse to get you to spare him? “He’s gone. There’s no getting him back now.” Your voice warbles, your fingers trembling as you reach again. Making contact with the ebony plastic this time.
“He’s right here. You could have him. All you have to do is let me in.”
You lift the receiver from the handset cradle. The spiral cord connecting the two sways like a tightrope beneath an acrobat walking its length. You feel like that performer. Teetering on the edge between life and death. Yours. The people in the building. You have a duty to protect them.
The uniformed man’s eyes slide closed. Dark lashes light as moth’s wings kissing his cheeks. He’s humming softly. A melody you’d heard every time Francis had left for his route. The tune unfamiliar. But it’s his. Had always been unique to him. Why hadn’t you asked what song it was? Why hadn’t you…
The handset drops back down and the dial tone is silenced. His eyes reopen. “Let me in, love.” The softest, sweetest smile. You reach for the buzzer. Staring at your hand as if you don’t recognize it as your own. “I’ll give you everything you want, sweet girl.” Nearly to the button now. “There you go. Just a little more.” Contact. The light flashes and the magnetic locks release, granting the doppelgänger access.
2K notes · View notes
theemporium · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
[11.6k] when in desperate need for a date to your friend's wedding, the last person you expected to step up was nico hischier. then again, he didn't step up as much as he was thrown into the mess by jack.
inspired by 'the spanish love deception' by elena armas
.
“Come on!”
“When I said a favour, I didn’t mean this!”
“You said you would do anything!”
“Yeah, like help change a flat tire. You know, the normal things!”
“Do you even know how to change a flat tire?”
“Well…”
“Jack.”
The boy let out a noise mixed between a laugh and an exaggerated groan as he threw his head back. He was just fresh out of the shower after practice, hair still dripping and cheeks flushed red, when you found him by the trainers’ kitchen grabbing a protein shake. 
Your friendship with Jack Hughes was one made through the bond of joining the New Jersey Devils together. He was newly drafted and feeling the pressure of being first pick, whilst you were freshly entering the real world on your own two feet with no real plan in your head. It was by chance that a friend of a friend had managed to pull you a job with the hockey team. And it was by chance you ended up befriending the new hot-shot player in a sport you honestly didn’t know all that much about. 
Still from the first day, after a very awkward meeting on both parts, you and Jack Hughes had been the best of friends—which was exactly why you thought he would help you out on being your plus one to a wedding. 
“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Jack whined, leaning against the counter that displayed all the blenders and ingredients for the players’ protein shakes and smoothies. “Isn’t it your friend’s wedding? Why do you need a plus one, it’s not like you won’t know anyone?” 
“That’s not the point,” you huffed out, feeling like a disgruntled child as you crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to pout. 
Jack raised his brows. “So, what is the point?” 
“I—” You paused, something bitter and nostalgic twisting in your chest before you shook your head. “Can you do it or not? It’s not like you are running off to the Bahamas on your week off. You said yourself that you were free.” 
“The Bahamas sounds better than a wedding in South Carolina,” he grumbled, his lips twitching upwards when you knocked his shoulder with your own. He looked like he was about to say something else before he paused, his eyes brightening. “So, you really need a date to this thing?”
You shot him a look. “Did the last twenty minutes of me begging not give it away?”
His grin widened, something quite unsettling in the smile. “So, you’re desperate?” 
You frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t say desperate—”
“Nico is free this week!” Jack announced loudly, his grin reaching scary levels of taking over his face before his eyes glanced over your head. “Aren’t you, cap?”
Your eyes widened a little as you whirled around, finding the Devils captain standing a few feet away from the two of you. He was dressed similarly to Jack, in a team-branded hoodie and sweatpants, with his wet hair tucked under a beanie. He looked a bit caught off-guard as he glanced between the two of you, though his eyes lingered on Jack.
“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, standing a little taller. “I guess. I didn’t have any plans—”
“Brilliant!” Jack clapped his hands together. “Nico can be your fake boyfriend to your friend’s wedding.”
Your head snapped around to glare at your friend. “I just needed a date—”
“Yeah, your date is your boyfriend,” Jack retorted.
Your glare hardened. “And I asked you—”
“And I’m busy,” Jack said with a shrug, almost as if he was saying ‘what could you do?’. “But Nico is free and you know each other. It should be an easy solution, right?” 
You finally had the courage to face Nico, who looked a bit stunned himself. If it were any other day, you would have laughed at the fact that the captain looked so lost and unsure of himself, so unlike himself. But right now—with the tightening band around your chest that felt like it would crush your ribs—you couldn’t find yourself to even smile.
“You don’t have to,” you said eventually, when you finally found your voice again and your thoughts were coherent. “Jack is just—”
“I’ll do it,” Nico blurted out.
You blinked.
“I mean,” Nico paused, looking a little flustered at his own sudden announcement. “If you need someone, I can help out. I don’t mind, really.” He paused again. “We’re friends, right? This is what friends do.”
“Yeah, friends,” you repeated, clearing your throat a little before giving him a strained smile. 
And just like that, Nico Hischier—captain of the New Jersey Devils—was your wedding date.
You decided that after this wedding was over and done, you were going to kill Jack Hughes.
In your mind, Jack would have agreed to help you out with your predicament, you would have gone to the wedding and had a laugh together. This would be one of those memories that you two would joke about for years to come, like when he almost burned down your kitchen making boxed macaroni cheese or when you called him sobbing because of a spider in your bathroom. 
You didn’t think he would throw you under the bus like this.
And maybe that was a bit dramatic, but it felt necessary after Nico left the room with the promise he would message to sort out the details of your plans.
Your issue wasn’t with the fact Jack didn’t want to do it. If that was the case, you would have understood. Your nagging and begging was mostly just a bit of friendly banter, and you thought he was reciprocating. 
He was reciprocating. 
But then, instead of being a normal human and telling you he didn’t want to do it so you could find someone else to help you, he just threw a solution at you. 
An—in the kindest way you could put it—unwanted solution.
It wasn’t that you hated or even disliked Nico Hischier. Not at all. Your relationship with the captain was just…non-existent, in a sense. Very superficial, if you were being honest.
When you were new to the team, you didn’t really talk all that much to any of the players. Jack was the exception, someone who was just as lost as you—though his extroverted personality hid it far better. But weeks passed and slowly you began to see some of the players beyond friendly acquaintances. 
But Nico just…never really left that label. 
It wasn’t like he was rude or mean to you, quite the opposite. Even though he was the captain to only the team, that caring and kind personality extended to everyone who worked for the Devils—you included. 
He was a good guy. He was sweet and thoughtful and loyal and kind. He cared more than any person should. He was the kind of person people write in books and movies. 
And it was intimidating, in a weird way. 
There was no logical explanation for it. But something about Nico Hischier felt too perfect for your shit show of a life. He was confident and put together and everything you weren’t. 
Jack knew that. Jack knew how you felt. Jack had laughed about it more than once before reassuring you that there was more to Nico than you realised. 
You just wish you could’ve discovered that side of him during a team night out rather than at your friend’s wedding out of state. 
And because Nico was the perfect guy, it was no surprise when he messaged you that the two of you could take his car down to Charleston, South Carolina with him taking the first shift. 
“I thought you’d be sick of being on the road,” you said to him as you stood outside your apartment complex, bags in hand as you walked towards where Nico had parked his car. 
“It’s a part of me now,” he joked as he reached for your bags, not giving you a chance to say anything before he placed them in the back with his own. “I go crazy if I’m not locked in a moving vehicle for more than three hours.” 
You snorted, turning your face away so he didn’t catch the way your cheeks burned in embarrassment at the noise. 
“I’ve also never been to Charleston,” Nico continued, shrugging his shoulders. “Thought it would be a nice chance to take it all in if we drive.” 
“I really don’t mind driving the whole way,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip nervously as you eyed his car. “You’re already doing me a favour, the least I could do is—”
“It’s a long drive, I wouldn’t want you getting tired behind the wheel,” Nico said, his brows furrowed together. “It’s fine. I promise.” 
“Okay,” you relented and took your spot in the passenger seat for the first stint of the drive. 
It was around two hours in when the small talk shifted into something deeper. 
“So, what’s the deal??”
You glanced over at the boy in the driver seat, your lips still wrapped around the straw of your slushie you bought at the last service station. Nico had gaped at you being able to drink something so sweet and cold so early in the morning, but you just grinned and shrugged. You didn’t get much of a chance to say anything before he was paying for it anyways, along with the coffee he got for himself. 
Sensing your confusion, he continued. 
“With the date,” he said, risking a glance at you before his eyes returned to the road. “You just seemed…”
“Desperate?” You supplied.
His lips twitched. “I was going to say insistent,” he corrected. “But yeah, desperate works too. Is it really such a bad thing if you go to your friend’s wedding alone?” 
“Well,” you started, still hesitant to say your thoughts out loud when you knew it sounded immature. “Not really. Lucy wouldn’t care if I brought a cactus with me, she would just be happy I was there for her big day.”
Nico huffed out a laugh. “So, why am I here instead of a cactus?” 
“I’m not a big fan of pricks,” you joked and, to your credit, he did smile. But the look he shot you told you that deflecting wasn’t going to get you very far. “My ex will be there.”
Nico didn’t say anything for a few moments. “And you’re…still in love with him?”
“What? No!” You quickly shook your head, your face scrunched up in a grimace. “God, no. Not at all. Never again.”
“Oh,” Nico murmured, though there was still a look of confusion on his face. “What’s the big deal if he’s there then?”
“Our breakup was…messy,” you confessed, wincing a little as the memories you tried to block out returned like an unwanted slap to the face. “It was ages ago and I’m over it. But the last time I saw a lot of these people was just before the breakup and I just wasn’t in a good place.” 
Nico didn’t say anything, letting you continue. 
“He cheated on me.” you said eventually because there didn’t seem like much point in beating around the bush, especially when Nico was helping you out despite being thrown into the deep-end unwillingly. “It got messy within the friend group and I ended up moving away after we broke up to get a fresh start. Not just because of him, but it was nice to get away from all the mess and drama.” 
“So you came to New Jersey,” Nico finished. 
“So I came to New Jersey,” you confirmed with a nod.
“And having a boyfriend when you see these people will…” he trailed off, his brows furrowed together once again. It was the same expression you saw on his face during games, when he was trying to work out plays in his head before they happened.
“I was originally planning to come myself,” you admitted to the boy. “But then I was on the phone with Lucy and she kept asking if I’d be okay with everything and I just imagined everyone asking me the same thing and,” you paused and shrugged. “I just ended up blurting out that I was using my plus one.”
When you turned to look at Nico, you were surprised to find a sympathetic smile on the boy’s face. 
“If you showed up alone, nobody would’ve thought you moved on. But if you came with someone, people would believe you were actually okay,” Nico finished for you, and it should have been unsettling how well he understood. But his empathy and insight were one of the many traits that made him captain.
“It sounds stupid but I just wanted to come here and enjoy my friend’s wedding,” you said with a dry laugh. “The pitying looks were bad enough the first time around, I don’t need them again.”
Nico hummed, nodding his head. “So, what’s our story?” 
You turned to him, frowning. “What?”
“Our story,” he repeated, a kind smile on his face that made your chest feel tight. “You know, like how we got together. Surely people will ask, no? We should have a plan.”
Your lips twitched upwards. “Can’t keep away from the strategies, can you?”
Nico laughed, smiling. “Guess you can’t take the captain out of the man or whatever the saying is.”
You snorted, shaking your head before you settled back in your seat. You thought about his point for a few moments, contemplating your options. 
“I don’t think we have to overcomplicate it,” Nico said, interrupting your thoughts. “You have that look on your face that says you’re scheming.”
You raised your brows. “How do you know that?”
“It’s the same look on your face you get when you plan a prank with Jack,” he responded, smiling a little wider at your shocked look. “Neither of you are subtle. Or quiet.”
“I was just trying to think of an interesting story,” you defended, narrowing your eyes at the boy. “We can’t just have a basic co-workers to lovers situation, that’s boring.”
Nico laughed. “Boring?”
“Yeah!” You laughed back. “We have the chance to make up the craziest love story ever, why not take it?” 
Nico shook his head. “What do you suggest then?”
“A puck was flying at your head and I saved you,” you joked. “Full on spidey sense moment, just caught the puck with my bare hands and you were lovestruck after that.”
The full belly laugh Nico let out made your smile widen. “Caught the puck?” 
“Bare hands,” you nodded. 
“I am sure everyone will believe that,” he teased.
“You clearly haven’t seen me in the net,” you mused. “I have insane reflexes.”
“I’ll let the team know the next time we need a goalie,” Nico retorted. 
In the end, you decided to go the ‘boring’ route. It felt safer to stick with almost-truths, it prevented any possible slip up if the two of you were interrogated separately. And, much to your surprise, there was something quite fun about fabricating a fake relationship with the captain you barely knew. 
You arrived in Charleston, South Carolina just after seven o’clock.
The address Lucy had given you was for a massive house by the beach she was renting out for the week. It was gorgeous, over three storeys high and looking like it had been plucked straight out of a postcard. The beach house was slightly secluded as well, far enough from the closest neighbours for all the main wedding party to park their cars outside with no bother.
It felt a little surreal. 
You didn’t even get a chance to step out of the car before the front door swung open and Lucy came running out, squealing as she opened her arms and wrapped them around you. Your chest tightened at the closeness, at seeing one of your closest friends in person after so long of being apart. 
“You’re here!” She exclaimed as she pulled back, her bright eyes finding yours with an understanding shining in them. She missed you as much as you missed her.
“And you’re getting married!” You retorted, watching as her grin—somehow—widened. 
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Lucy murmured before she brought you into another hug. And you let yourself sink into the embrace, to forget everything else until your friend let out an intrigued hum. “And I’m guessing this is your plus one?” 
Your eyes widened a little when you remembered Nico standing a few feet behind you and quickly pulled back, glancing back at him before turning to Lucy. Something deep in your stomach twisted at the idea of lying to your friend but there was no going back now. 
“Nico, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is Nico,” you said as you gestured between each other, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My boyfriend.” 
Lucy’s shock was clear. “Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! You just made it seem like your plus one was a friend over the phone!”
You gave her a shaky smile. “Surprise?” 
Nico, seeming to somehow pick up on the way the guilt was starting to take over you, stepped in and offered his hand to your friend. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And congratulations on the wedding. It’s an honour to be here, even just as a plus one.” 
Lucy’s brows raised in surprise, her eyes briefly finding yours as she shook his hand.. “Wow, you are a…gentleman.” 
“I guess I upgraded,” you joked, wincing a little when you saw her face scrunch up in guilt. 
“Are you sure it’s not weird that he’s here? I know Tom wanted him here but—” But you didn’t give her a chance to continue as you shook her head, reaching out to grab her hand and squeeze softly. 
“It’s fine, Luce, I promise,” you said, though you weren’t totally sure if she believed you or not. In an attempt to solidify your point, you turned back to glance at Nico with a smile. “I’ve moved on. I’m happy. And I want to be here with you to celebrate your wedding. It probably won’t even be that awkward, it’s been years since everything happened.”
Lucy nibbled on her lower lip. “You’re sure?” 
“Positive,” you nodded.
“Okay,” she said before smiling. “Well, I’ll let you two settle into your room. You’re on the top floor but I can get Tom out to help with your bags. Let me go get him!”
You didn’t get a chance to say anything before Lucy ran back inside but you were hit with a sudden realisation that had you turning to face Nico, an apologetic look painted on your face.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your cheeks warming as he gave you an inquisitive look. “She asked if I only wanted one room and I said yes because I thought I’d be with Jack and it wouldn’t be that bad, but I forgot to tell her it’s changed. We don’t have to stay here! We can get a hotel nearby or—”
“Hey,” Nico stepped forward, his hands placed on your shoulders to ground you for a moment before you started pacing. “Take a deep breath.”
You let out a shaky breath in response. 
“It’s fine,” he told you, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. “It would have been weird if we were in separate rooms anyways.”
“I can take the floor,” you suggested.
Nico shot you a look. “I’m not letting you do that.”
“But—” 
Nico’s look hardened. 
“Fine. No floor,” you grumbled before you flashed him a sheepish smile. “I really am sorry though. I feel like you have just been thrown into this whole thing and—”
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to be here,” Nico assured you, squeezing your shoulders before nodding towards the house. “C’mon, we should go inside and freshen up. Then you can tell me everything I need to know, starting with who Tom is and if we like him.”
And that was enough to make you snort, momentarily ignoring the problem of the one bed for now. 
You didn’t bump into your ex until later that night.
In retrospect, you should have expected to see him sooner rather than later, but a stupid part of you was still in denial about having to spend the week with him living under the same roof as you. Another part of you was also hoping he just wouldn’t show up, that he would bail on the whole event or maybe even just show up on the day of the wedding. 
But you knew that would have never been the case. Because as close as you were with Lucy was just as close he was to Tom, Lucy’s future husband. In fact, Lucy and Tom had met because of you two, because of the fusion of your friendship groups which now just felt like the biggest joke ever. 
At least someone benefited out of the relationship.
You weren’t even expecting some big confrontation or horrendous outcome when you expected to bump into your ex. You were just expecting to be a little more prepared, to have time to put yourself together. You knew you would see him at dinner that night, that much was inevitable. But you thought you could at least have the upper hand by walking into the room, hand in hand with Nico. 
What you weren’t expecting was to see him for the first time in years when you were waiting by the stairs for Nico (since being the gentleman he was, he had let you go refresh in the bathroom first). 
“Look what the cat dragged in!”
You hated the way your body instantly tensed up at the sound of his voice. You hated the way he was smiling at you like the last time you spoke he hadn’t shattered your whole world. You hated the way you felt so caught off-guard, so unprepared for a meeting you were expecting to have the upper hand in. 
“Jackson,” you managed to grit out as you gave him a strained smile. “Nice to see you again.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, huh?” He said, so lighthearted and casual and dismissive. 
You had to bite your tongue when the urge to say something a little more snarky came up, but you would hate yourself if you created a scene. You were doing this for Lucy. You were here to celebrate a momentous moment in your friend’s life. You weren’t here to get petty revenge on something that happened years ago—at least not in the form of bitter remarks. 
“A couple of years or so,” you answered with a shrug of your shoulders. 
“I was surprised when Lucy said you were coming,” Jackson told you.
You frowned. “Why would that be a surprise? She’s one of my best friends.”
“Yeah but,” Jackson waved his hand like that explained everything. “You haven’t visited since you left.” 
And the underlying words went unspoken. 
You haven’t visited since everything that happened between us. You haven’t visited since you had your heart broken. You haven’t visited so people just assumed you were still hurt and inconsolable after we broke up. I thought that was why you never came back.
“My job keeps me busy,” you stated simply, swallowing the acidic taste in the back of your throat. “Lucy knows that.” 
Something quite like amusement shone in his eyes. “Ah yeah, Tom mentioned something about you working in some ice rink in New Jersey. That sounds super busy.”
You bit your tongue. He was goading you again. You knew that. But fuck, you just wished you could have—
“I would hardly call The Rock just some ice rink,” a voice spoke from behind you and you turned to find Nico settling into the spot next to you, his face remaining very…neutral. 
Jackson stared at the boy, his lips agape as recognition clearly hit him. He blinked and then turned to you. “You work for the Devils?”
“Last time I checked,” you said, a twinge of satisfaction sparking inside you at his disbelief. 
He puffed his chest out a little. “When Lucy said you were bringing a plus one, I didn’t think she meant a co-worker—”
“She didn’t,” Nico interrupted, a look on his face that reminded you of his post-game interviews after the team lost. Before he continued, he wrapped an arm around your waist, making sure the boy saw the movement. “I’m her boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend,” Jackson repeated. 
“Yes, that is a word Americans still use, no?” Nico retorted. 
“Of course, man,” Jackson said with a laugh, but it felt forced and strained. He tore his eyes away from Nico to look back at you. “Well, I should be heading back. I’ll see you two down there.” 
He didn’t wait before he turned around, heading down the stairs to the dining room where the rest of the wedding party were probably starting their dinner. A few moments passed between the two of you before Nico finally broke the silence. 
“So, that was your ex,” he said.
You snorted before you winced. “I was blinded by young love.”
Nico laughed at that. “I didn’t realise blondes were your type,” he admitted, something different in his voice that he couldn’t quite work out.
You rolled your eyes before you sighed. “They usually aren’t, to be honest. But Jackson was…Jackson.”
Nico seemed oddly pleased with the response. 
“And he’s a hockey fan?” He questioned, his brows furrowing together like Jackson was a rival team’s game strategy he had to study. “He knew who I was.”
A slow grin spread across your face. “His family are from New York.”
Nico raised his brows before he laughed. “Islanders or Rangers?”
“Rangers,” you said with a proud look on your face. 
“That’s why you originally asked Jack,” Nico mused. “You wanted to rub it in that little more.”
“You bet them in the playoffs, I just thought he would like a nice reminder,” you retorted with an innocent look.
He laughed—that full belly laugh once again—before shaking his head in amusement. Before you could say anything more, he was intertwining your hands together and starting to make his way down the stairs Jackson had disappeared down a few minutes ago.
“C’mon, they are probably waiting for us,” he said. 
And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull your hand away. 
Dinner was uneventful, though you did enjoy watching Jackson bitterly stew from the other side of the table. 
A sense of familiarity and nostalgia washed over you as you sat at the dinner table, enjoying a meal as you laughed and chatted to a group you once saw daily but now hadn’t properly seen in years. It felt so easy to slip into old dynamics, to laugh at old jokes and tease each other as Lucy and Tom were the first to take such a monumental step from the lot of you.
Nico fit in so well, it almost made your chest feel tight if you thought about it too hard. He didn’t seem to mind the countless questions thrown at him about his job and the team. If anything, you thought he was milking his answers a little just to see Jackson squirm—especially when asked about playoffs. 
Eventually the day-long drive finally caught up with the two of you and you wished everyone goodbye before returning to your room on the top floor. Despite trying to play the gentleman card again, you allowed Nico to go to the bathroom first and tried not to stare too hard when he came out in a tight shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms. 
It took an embarrassing few minutes to hype yourself up in the bathroom mirror before you finally headed back to the room, only to pause at the doorway when you saw Nico lying on the ground by the bed with a pillow under his head and blanket over his body.
“What are you doing?”
Nico frowned a little. “Uh, sleeping?” 
“Why are you on the floor?”
His confusion growed. “Because that’s where I’m sleeping?”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Nico,” you sighed as you shook your head, walking into the room until you paused by his feet. “You’ll fuck up your back. Let me take the floor.”
Nico smiled softly. “My back will be fine. Take the bed, schatz.” 
You ignored the way the nickname made your stomach flutter. “I’m not the one who needs to stay in good shape for hockey, captain. The fans will murder me if you can’t play because you have a stiff back. Now take the bed.” 
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you have made Jack take the bed?”
“Yes,” you answered instantly before wincing. “Well, I probably would have shared the bed with him.”
“You would?”
“Yeah, like a sleepover,” you said with a shrug. 
“Then we can do that.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“We can share the bed like a sleepover,” Nico said as he stood up, failing to hide his groan as he stretched his back (and ignoring your pointed look). “We’re friends, right?”
You swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Then we can share,” Nico said simply. “Either you take the bed alone or we share. It’s your choice.”
“We may be friends but I am also doing this because the fans scare me and I don’t want to know what they would do to be if I broke their captain’s back,” you said with a pointed look before you climbed into the bed, ignoring the way your heart was thumping as he settled on the other side.
Nico huffed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”
You rolled onto your side to look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “You better not move to the floor when I fall asleep, Hischier.”
Much to his dismay, he blushed at your words. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I know.”
You let out a sigh, allowing yourself to stare at the boy for a little while longer before you rolled over to fall asleep.
“Thank you for helping me,” you whispered.
Nico’s soft smile returned. “It’s what friends do.”
“Goodnight, Nico.”
“Goodnight, schatz.”
It took a solid thirty seconds after you woke up to realise you were practically lying on top of Nico Hischier.
As your body started to wake up, you realised how warm and comfortable you were. You snuggled further into your pillow, into the warmth and hoped your body would just fall asleep for a little longer. 
It took longer than it should have to remember that pillows weren’t warm before you opened your eyes and found yourself settled on Nico, your legs tangled together and one of his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. 
You didn’t give yourself a chance to live out a waking nightmare and risk waiting for him to wake up in the next ten seconds, so you pulled yourself away from him and then hid in the bathroom for fifteen minutes freaking out.
By the time you came out, Nico was awake and sat up against the headboard. His hair was ruffled and dishevelled, his eyes still hooded and a sleepy smile on his lips that made you want to turn on your heels and have another bathroom freakout. 
Instead, you smiled back and told him the two of you had to be outside in the next hour for the brunch Lucy had planned before both wedding parties went off to do their last fittings. 
Thankfully, no more bathroom freakouts were required. 
The brunch Lucy had set up looked like something straight out of a Pinterest aesthetic board. It was set in the house’s back porch with a stunning view of the beach and morning sun beating down on the sea. The table was set with plates of pastries, fruits and other brunch dishes, all topped with the morning mimosas Lucy demanded was a part of the experience.
Nico barely gave you a chance to settle down in your seat before his hand reached for the leg of your chair, dragging you closer to him until his arm could settle along the back of your chair comfortably. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jackson watching the two of you. Nico had noticed too.
If anything, it just made him smirk. 
One by one, everyone had made their way from their rooms to settle down at the brunch table like you all had done the night before. However, unlike yesterday, you noted an empty seat next to Jackon that hadn’t been beside him last night. 
Before you could even ask, a high-pitched voice shrilled from inside.
“I’m here! I’m here! I promise I’m not late.”
You turned to look at Lucy, your eyes widening in response but your friend only mouthed an apology before she turned to the door just in time for a redhead to wander out onto the porch. 
“Bryce! Happy to finally have you here!” 
You watched the two of them hug but your whole body had locked up, an unwanted flurry of memories washing over you. And just like that, it felt like another situation in which you should have been prepared for but didn’t get the chance to. Another rug pulled from under your feet. 
“What’s wrong?” 
You could feel him lean closer, hear the concern in his voice. And yet, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the redhead talking to Lucy a few feet away.
You knew. You knew Jackson had a plus one, it was the whole fucking reason you showed up with one of your own because you didn’t want to look like the loser who hadn’t moved on. You had been warned that he was bringing someone else. 
You just never assumed it would be her.
“That’s the girl my ex cheated on me with,” you managed to mumble under your breath to Nico, managed to finally turn your head to look at him. 
His expression was some mix of surprise and anger and, honestly, you would have laughed at the seriousness on his face if it weren’t for the fact you felt the exact same. You didn’t care about your ex and you had moved on, but it was still a bitter sting to know he was still with the woman he cheated on you with all those years ago.
You tried to relax your shoulders and act as unaffected as you could as Bryce rounded the table to take the seat next to Jackson—the seat across from you. But any hopes of the brunch going as smoothly as the dinner yesterday went out the window when her eyes landed on you.
“Oh my god,” Bryce let out a laugh and smiled at you, a smile you were sure was meant to be friendly but just made your skin prickle. “I didn’t know you would be here! Luce didn’t tell me.”
Luce. That was your nickname for her, not Bryce’s.
“I guess we are both surprised then,” you replied with a strained smile.
Nico couldn't help but snort, not even trying to hide his reaction.
Her eyes snapped over to him, calculating. “And this must be your plus one. Your friend?” 
“Boyfriend, actually,” you corrected.
“Hm, how sweet.” 
You still felt on edge as the brunch continued. Nico’s arm around the back of your seat was a comfort but it didn’t help the fact Bryce’s gaze on you felt like daggers against your skin. You ignored both her and Jackson for the most part, listening to the stories exchanged amongst the group and Lucy raving about the final dress fitting later that day. It was easy to zone out until the conversation seemed to focus back onto you and the boy by your side.
“So,” Lucy grinned as she glanced between you and Nico. “What’s the story? How did you meet? When did it happen? I want details, I can’t believe you’ve been holding back on me!”
You flashed her an apologetic look. “You were busy with the wedding, I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Well, you can tell me now,” she retorted with a wink. 
“It’s really not that interesting,” you said, shifting in your seat when you felt everyone’s eyes on you. As much as you joked about having an insane love story, the idea of even saying the boring one right now with everyone’s attention directed on you made your skin prickle with discomfort.
But even if everyone else was oblivious, Nico wasn’t. 
“To her, maybe,” he spoke up and everyone’s focus shifted to him, even your own. But he was used to this. He was used to many eyes on him and attention directed towards him. “I still get teased about it by the boys.” 
Lucy’s smile softened. “Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Nico laughed, his eyes briefly looking at you before his gaze returned to your friend. “I had a huge crush on her when she joined the team. Like, embarrassingly huge. Jack used to tease me all the time on how I seemed to forget how to speak English around her.”
Your stomach dipped and, for a quick second, you almost believed him with everyone else.
“She always did play a little hard to get,” Jackson mused and something visibly changed in Nico’s expression. 
“And she was worth every second of it,” Nico retorted, the same camera-approved smile he gave the journalists during interviews. “Unlike some people though, I have no plan to lose her.”
Jackson clenched his jaw. 
“How long have you been together then?” Bryce jumped in, her narrowed gaze glancing between you both.
“A few months,” you and Nico replied at the same time.
Bryce’s eyes gleamed. “And how long is a few months?” 
“Six,” Nico answered simply before he turned to smile at you. “Best six months of my life.”
Your face warmed in response. “He’s a little cheesy.” 
“You mean romantic,” Lucy teased, but there was something approving in her expression. It warmed your heart a little at the idea that she would have approved of Nico if he really was your boyfriend. “She isn’t used to that.”
Jackson stiffened. 
Nico’s grin widened and before you could even realise what he was doing, he was taking your hand in his and placing a kiss along your knuckles. “I’m honoured to be the one to spoil her, then.”
Thankfully, Jackson and Bryce didn’t say much for the rest of the meal.
You felt like you were in an odd routine over the next few days, but you found that you actually quite enjoyed it. 
The wedding frenzy was in full effect but there was something grounding about having Nico by your side for it all. 
Every morning, you woke up first and found yourself tangled in bed with the boy. It also meant the bathroom freakouts had become a part of your routine, but it was worth it to wake up and enjoy the warmth of Nico Hischier’s hold for a few minutes. You two would end up lounging in your shared room, just trying to fully wake up before Lucy dragged you into last minute wedding nonsense. 
But even at night, you found yourself settled into a routine with the boy. He would go first to the bathroom and you’d go second, and then the two of you would be settled against the headboard, rambling away until one of you yawned and the other one turned the lights off for the night.
It almost made you laugh that there was ever a time you were intimidated by the captain—even when that time was just last week.
And yet, for the first time since you arrived in Charleston, there was nothing for you to do. The rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the wedding was the following day and it was like you were facing the calm before the storm took over your lives. And it was the first time you could all enjoy the beach without a deadline looking over your head.
“C’mon, it will be fun!” 
Lucy snorted. “For you, maybe.” 
Tom grinned down at his future wife, lightly tugging on her hand but she remained sat on the deck chair. “It’s just a friendly game of soccer. Boys versus girls. Come on.”
“Football,” Nico corrected under his breath, making you snort.
“That is hardly fair,” Lucy argued. “You’ll have a professional athlete on your side!”
“Nico is a hockey player!” Tom retorted.
“Same thing,” Lucy waved off and Nico’s expression was enough for you to snort again. “Fine, we play but with mixed teams.”
Tom contemplated for a moment before agreeing. “Deal.”
“And I get Nico on my team,” she added, watching in delight as her fiance gaped.
“But—” He paused, lifting his head to find your gaze. “You’re on my team then.”
“She’s my best friend!” 
“You took the athlete, I get your best friend. That’s the deal.”
“Do we get a choice in this?” Nico murmured to you and you just laughed, shaking your head.
After more arguing and bickering and negotiating between the future married couple, the teams had been decided. Goals had been marked in the sand, a ball had been acquired and the game began. It was stupid and harmless and it was meant as nothing more than a little fun. 
But Tom and Lucy were more competitive than they let on. And it certainly didn’t help the fact Jackson seemed to have it out for your boyfriend before the match even began.
“Think you can handle tackling your boyfriend?” Jackson asked you. 
“I don’t think it concerns you how well I handle him,” you retorted, feeling the weight of Nico’s gaze on you from across the makeshift pitch like a comfort.
“He doesn't seem like your type,” Jackson continued, always sticking close enough so he could keep talking.
“My type is none of your business,” you stated bluntly.
“I mean, a jock? Really?” Jackson shrugged. “Just didn’t think you went for the airhead.”
You snorted, unable to help yourself. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing when I considered what I saw in you.”
He huffed. “You—”
“Don’t want to continue this conversation, Jackson,” you shot him a look. “I’m happy with Nico. I don’t care what you have to say about it. I’m here for Lucy, not you. Don’t get it twisted.” 
“You’ll never have what we had with Nico,” he said. 
“One can only hope.”
You were stupid to think Nico wouldn’t be competitive in a friendly game. He was a professional athlete. It was literally written in his DNA.
And honestly? You felt bad for anyone who played against the Devils because you couldn’t imagine how intense Nico was to play against in a proper game when this was how seriously he was taking a stupid football match that meant nothing.
“NEXT GOAL WINS THE GAME!”
The group had been playing for the last hour, the game was tied and you knew that you would have to head back into the house for lunch soon. But neither team wanted to leave the game until there was a clear winner.
Any semblance of friendliness went out the window as the last leg of the game continued. You weren’t too bothered, more than happy to watch Tom and Lucy mostly fight over the ball and constantly try to tackle each other. 
But your stomach dipped a little when you saw Lucy kick the ball back to Nico. And the feeling only got worse when you saw Jackson making a beeline towards the boy, determined to tackle it out of his hold. Before you even knew it, you and the rest of the party were watching the two boys race down the makeshift pitch.
However, no matter how hard he tried, Jackson could never match Nico’s speed. 
You watched as he kicked the ball, right through the makeshift goal that had been created in the sand. The group broke out into a mix of groans and cheers alike, people clapping and whooping as Nico ran back towards you with a massive grin on his face. 
You barely had a chance to react before he was right in front of you, crouching down enough for his arms to wrap around your thighs before he hoisted you over his shoulders. 
“Nico!” You let out a noise mixed between a scream and laugh.
“We won, baby!” He cheered and your cheeks burned at the nickname. 
Your hands tried to hold onto him for balance but a part of you knew he would never drop you. You patted his back and Nico seemed to catch the hint as he slowly dropped your back to the ground, though his arms remained wrapped around you to keep you close.
“You won,” you corrected. “We are on different teams, remember?”
Nico shrugged. “My win is your win.” 
You snorted. “That was cheesy.” 
“Didn’t like it?” He teased, and your cheeks burned warmer. 
“You make it work,” you admitted, the band around your chest tightening when you saw his face brighten at your words. 
“Yeah?” 
For a moment, you forgot that you were surrounded by people. For a moment, it was just you and Nico stood on this beach, smiling and laughing and alone. For a moment, you could have sworn his eyes dipped down to your mouth. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.
A big part of you wished he did. 
“C’MON, LOVEBIRDS! LUNCH IS READY!”
You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the boy right in front of you and instead turned to look at the others. Some of the group were already making their way back to the house, but a few lingered on the beach. Lucy was grinning at you like a madman with Tom looking equally as happy. However, it was hard to focus on them when Jackson stood a few feet away, glaring at you and Nico.
You cleared your throat, hoping your smile seemed normal as you turned to Nico. “Ready for lunch?”
“Hm,” Nico hummed, looking like he wanted to say more but ultimately just nodding. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
“Scoring the winning goal really does knock you on your ass, huh?” You joked.
Nico just laughed, throwing his arm around you before the two of you began to make your way back to the house. “Running in sand is much harder than skating.” 
“Didn’t stop you from achieving the win.”
“I’m a winner, baby,” Nico grinned. “I don’t like losing.”
The football game had sucked the energy out of most of the group, so it was no surprise everyone started to head to bed before the clock had even reached ten.
You were dragging your feet as you followed Nico to your shared room, doing everything in your ability to stay awake as he went into the bathroom first. Every one of your moves felt lethargic and sluggish and you wanted nothing more than to curl up under the duvet to sleep forever.
It was like a cruel joke from the universe that the second your head hit the pillow, you couldn’t fall asleep. And it took a solid ten minutes of twisting and turning before Nico spoke up.
“Are you okay?”
You froze before letting out a heavy sigh, settled on your back as you stared blankly into the dark room. “Just can’t sleep.” There was a pause. “Sorry if I woke you up.”
“I wasn’t asleep yet.” he assured you before he shuffled in his spot until he was facing you, even if he couldn’t really see you in the dark. “Do you want to talk about it?” 
Your lips twitched upwards and maybe it was the exhaustion, but you couldn’t even stop yourself from letting out a laugh that echoed through the room.
Nico let out a noise of amusement. “What?” 
You shook your head, feeling oddly giddy as you spoke. “Nothing, it’s just,” you paused for a few seconds. “I just remembered Jack telling me how the team joked that you took on the role of the therapist before you became captain. That after bad games, you went out of your way to ask them how they were doing and being the shoulder they needed to cry on.”
Nico frowned a little. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all,” you answered as you turned to look at him, imagining the features on his face even if you couldn’t see him. “It’s just funny that I knew what you were like this whole time but still…it took me experiencing you to realise how stupid I was.” 
His confusion grew. “Stupid for what?”
“For thinking you were scary,” you admitted in a whisper.
Nico didn’t say anything before he let out a laugh. “You thought I was scary?” 
“Well, not scary,” you corrected, but you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Just…intimidating.” 
“Is that why you never spoke to me?”
“I spoke to you,” you argued.
“Hardly,” Nico mused. “I don’t think we had a proper conversation until you had almost been with the team for a year. I had to ask Jack if I had done something to piss you off because you seemed to get on with everyone else but me.”
You couldn’t hide your surprise. “You asked Jack?”
“I wanted to apologise if I had done something I didn’t realise upset you,” he confessed, and something in your chest tightened at the thought.
“Oh god,” you murmured, letting out a groan as you raised your hands to cover your face. “Now I feel like even more of a dick.”
Nico huffed out a laugh before he reached over, his palm warm and comforting as it rested on your arm. “It’s fine. We are friends now, right?”
You sighed. “Yeah but—”
“Hey, don’t feel too bad about it, okay? We were both being stupid,” Nico’s words washed over you, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “And without that, you could have been here with Jack or someone else instead and I would have missed out on a pretty fun week.”
“You’re having fun?”
“Of course I am. I’m here with you,” he murmured, voice thick and full of sincerity. It made your heart race in your chest to the point you almost swore he could hear it. “Plus, it’s pretty funny seeing how pathetic your ex-boyfriend is.”
You snorted. “Not my finest decision in life.”
“As much as I wish you never experienced that kind of pain, I’m glad it happened,” Nico whispered, his hand lightly squeezing your arm. “It meant you moved to New Jersey. It meant that I—that the whole team got to meet you.”
Your cheeks burned but you smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. You placed a hand over his and squeezed back. “I’m glad I met you too. All of you.”
“Bet you wouldn’t have had this heart-to-heart with Jack, huh?”
You let out a breathless laugh. “No, he probably would have fallen asleep before I even left the bathroom.”
Nico laughed but didn’t disagree. 
You don’t remember exactly at what point you fell asleep that night, but you spent a little longer in his arms the next morning. 
It was a risk but you had lost time to make up for with Nico Hischier, even if it meant making up those moments tangled in bed with him.
The rehearsal dinner was where everything really hit you.
It had been running smoothly, though you expected nothing less from Lucy. You knew she probably had the day planned down to the minute, and even if the plan deviated, she would have five back up plans that were ready to go. It was just the kind of person she was.
It was held outside on the beach, the slowly setting sun casting the skies orange and pink over the venue. The tables were set to perfection, the fairy lights decorated across the borders and you had truly never seen anyone happier than Lucy and Tom in that moment. Your heart soared at the idea of the two most deserving people finding the happiness they earned.
It was gorgeous. It was perfect. It was the last fucking time and place you should have been hit with the fact that you were maybe, kinda, most definitely falling in love with Nico Hischier.
Lucy had just wanted a calm, laid back rehearsal dinner. The wedding party was just meant to practise walking in and out, before eventually sitting down to enjoy the nice meal set for the occasion. It was nothing intense, nothing high-stress or extreme. 
It was meant to be fine.
And it was, all things considered. Everything ran smoothly, everyone stood where they were meant to stand and there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s head that the wedding itself would run smoothly. 
But it didn’t feel fine in your head. 
You had taken your place in the line of bridesmaids, waiting for your cue to start walking down the makeshift aisle. You had stepped out right on beat, you kept your gaze forward, you stood on your marked spot and then you turned to wait for Lucy to make her way down the aisle. 
Except your eyes shifted away from the bride and found Nico’s gaze. 
He should have turned his head to look at the approaching bride-to-be like everyone else was. He should have been watching the ceremony, enjoying the love shared between the happy couple you were all here to celebrate. He should have been looking the other way.
But he was looking at you. 
He was looking at you with a soft smile—one that only widened the second he realised you were looking right back. The skin around his eyes crinkled with his smile, his chain was peeking out the open collar shirt and the soft breeze was making strands of his hair flutter down onto his forehead and—
Fuck. 
You were falling for Nico Hischier. 
The realisation hit you hard and fast, it almost felt like you were winded by the thought. It was a small blessing that everyone was focused on Lucy, that they were far too preoccupied to watch the way you stumbled slightly in your spot at the weight of your sudden realisation. 
Well, everyone except Nico.
He frowned a little, a crease forming between the brows and you could see the concern in his eyes even with the large distance between you. You could see the way he tilted his head slightly, the silent question hanging between you as you just flashed him a small smile and nodded your head. 
You had to tear your eyes away from him before your lungs caved in or your heart burst out of your chest. You had to force yourself to remember to smile and focus on the rehearsal dinner. You had to force yourself to remain normal.
Because he was Nico Hischier. 
He was captain of the New Jersey Devils. He was your colleague. He was your newly-made friend. He was here doing a favour after Jack practically threw him in the deep-end. He wasn’t here to witness your sudden and mind-boggling realisations. 
So, when the dinner was starting to be served and he found your side again, you didn’t hesitate to lie through your teeth. 
“I’m okay,” you told him, a kind smile on your face that you hoped was believable. “Trust me, Nico, I’m fine. Just got a little dizzy, must have low blood sugar or something.” 
Because you were here for your friend’s wedding. And he was here to help you out. 
There was no place for your newfound feelings.
To absolutely nobody’s shock, the wedding went through without a single hitch.
The ceremony ran through smoothly with pretty vows and sweet kisses exchanged between the newly married couple. As the reception rolled around, speeches were given, laughs were shared and dinner was served as the guests all enjoyed the union of Lucy and Tom and their love. 
It was sweet. It was perfect. It was everything your best friend deserved for her wedding.
It didn’t take long after the dinner for the first dance to commence, a soft smile in place as you watched Tom and Lucy softly sway to their chosen song. They looked lost in their own world, so caught up in each other like they forgot everyone else existed. 
A pang of longing hit you but you shoved it away. 
It was somewhere between your third and fourth glass of wine when Lucy found you, dragging you towards the dance floor with some halfhearted rambles about wanting to get pictures of all the bridesmaids and groomsmen dancing before you all got shit-faced drunk.
It was your unfortunate luck that the photographer paired you with Jackson before you had the chance to disagree, to escape the way Bryce was glaring at you like you had chosen him.
“She isn’t you.” 
You tried to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, to try and focus on something other than his hands on your waist. You thought you could zone out and that maybe the song would pass quickly, but the universe had other plans for you.
“It’s not like how it was when I was with you,” Jackson continued. 
“What do you genuinely think this conversation is going to achieve?” You asked him, gaining the courage to lift your head to look him in the eyes. You kept your voice down to avoid attention, to avoid creating a scene. “We’re done. We were done years ago when you chose to throw our relationship down the drain. I’ve moved on, you should too.”
Jackson shot you a look. “Tell me you haven’t felt it this week. Tell me you don’t feel the pull—”
“I don’t,” you stated bluntly. “And I have no interest in what you’ve felt this week. I don’t care.”
He frowned. “Because of your lil’ hockey player?”
“Little isn’t the word I’d use to describe him but no,” you answered honestly. “Not because of him but because of you. You ruined things, Jackson, and I moved on with my life. Accept that.” 
Jackon’s frown only deepend. He opened his mouth and you could only imagine what he was going to say, could only imagine what bullshit he was about to pull out of his ass. But before he got the chance, a firm hand landed on his shoulder to halt his movements. 
“Mind if I cut in?” 
Jackson glanced over his shoulder to see Nico standing there, smiling like nothing was wrong, like he wouldn’t happily put Jackson in his place if he disagreed. And maybe your words got through to him or maybe Jackson accepted it was not worth arguing with a man over fifty pounds heavier and four inches taller than him. 
He turned to look at you, saying nothing as his jaw clenched in response before he wandered off. 
Nico hardly wasted any time in taking up Jackson’s spot, one arm wound around your waist and tugging you close whilst the other intertwined with your hand. He looked down at you, eyes full of concern, fondness and something else as he noted how tense you were.
“You okay?” His voice soft and quiet but, fuck, it was exactly what you needed to hear. “He didn’t say anything, right? Because I can—”
“I handled it,” you assured him with a soft smile, squeezing his hand to punctuate your point. “But thank you for being my knight in shining armour.”
“Selfishly, I wanted to do it the second the dance started,” Nico admitted, and if he hadn’t been drinking all night, you would have assumed the pink flush to his cheeks was a blush. “I mean, you’re my date after all. Surely first pick dancing rights go to me, no?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “First pick in the draft, now in dancing…you’re quite the man, Hischier.”
“I’m consistent,” he retorted, tugging you that little bit closer until you had the excuse to rest your head against his chest. 
And for a moment, with your cheek pressed against his shirt and his presence engulfing, you let yourself pretend this moment would last forever. You let yourself enjoy the last day Nico Hischier would pretend to be your boyfriend and imagined a world where it wasn’t really pretend at all.
Lucy wasn’t happy that you had to leave early the next morning, but she understood that both of you had to return to New Jersey.
It was dreadfully early—far too fucking early with how late you stayed up the night before—to start an eleven hour road trip, but Nico had just smiled and told you to nap the first few hours whilst he drove the first stint of the journey. 
You knew he was right, that you should have rested and gotten a little sleep but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay asleep for long. You felt like you were wasting time, you were wasting precious hours in this little bubble you had created with Nico that would burst by the time you both returned to Newark. 
So, you did what every normal and sane person did and stocked up on coffee and energy drinks at the next service station stop to keep you fuelled through the drive.
It was no different to the drive down to Charleston except for a shift in the energy. It was easier, in a sense. On the way down, Nico was essentially a glorified stranger to you that you had only shared a number of conversations with. But it felt different now, it felt like you actually knew the boy in the seat beside you. 
And it was bittersweet in that sense, too.
Because you loved this. You loved how easy it was to talk to him. You loved how you got to see the side of Nico Hischier that enamoured the fans, the team and the league. You loved that you got your own special version of him in the last week. And you didn’t want to lose that, you didn’t know if you would ever see this version of Nico again once you reached New Jersey. 
And as the hours passed and the closer you reached your destination, it felt like Nico realised the same. The car was tense and thick with tension, one that went unspoken but reeked of longing and the desire to cling onto the bubble the two of you created over the last week.
It was there, lingering and stewing and, yet, neither of you said anything about it once you reached your apartment complex.
“Thank you,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that weekend, but it was necessary. It had to be said. It meant so much more.
Thank you for coming with me this weekend. Thank you for backing me up. Thank you for being a good friend. Thank you for showing me who you really are even if it’s going to fuck with my head for the rest of my life. Thank you for being you.
“Any time,” he said, the words just as heavy as yours. You wish you knew what he meant by them. “Do you need help with your bags? I can—”
“I’ve got them,” you assured him.
His brows furrowed together. “Are you sure? I—”
“I’m sure,” you said, clearing your throat and finding the courage to finally look at him. You pushed away the stupidest and strangest urge to cry. “Well, see you on Monday then?”
Nico frowned a little but nodded. “See you Monday.”
It felt harsh being so blunt, so straightforward and direct. But you knew you needed to get out of that car as quickly as you could. Because you had spent the last week with Nico by your side the whole time, basked in the warmth of him as a person, and you knew all it would take was a few more moments alone with him for you to blurt out something stupid.
You knew you needed to get out of there and just be alone. To lock yourself in your apartment over the next twenty-four hours before you had to return to work, to attempt to wrap your head around the flurry of emotions bursting inside of you. You knew you needed to get behind that door before you had the urge to run back down to his car.
You couldn’t even bring yourself to look back at his car, to see if he drove off, as you reached the door of your apartment complex. You forced yourself to keep your gaze ahead, to put one foot in front of the other until you reached your apartment. You felt your body moving on autopilot as you unlocked the door, stepped inside and dumped the bags you had dragged up. 
And then, the overwhelming realisation and memories of the last few days washed over you. 
Fuck. You were in love with him. You were properly in love with him. You were going to have to go into work on Monday and see him there and pretend everything is normal. You are going to have to pretend for the rest of your life or until your feelings go away. You were going to—
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
You paused, the heel of your palm pressed to the centre of your chest as you tried to regulate your breaths. You had half the mind to ignore the knocks, to hope the person on the other side of the door just left you alone so you could curl up onto your couch with a fluffy blanket and a tub of ice cream.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
But you had a nagging feeling this person wouldn’t leave.
You avoided the mirror in your hallway as you headed back towards your front door, twisting the handle and pulling the door back with the full expectation of seeing one of your neighbours on the other side. 
Instead, it was a panting and breathless Nico.
“Nico?”
“I can’t pretend anymore,” he blurted out, beyond the point of caring whether he was too blunt or straightforward. “I can’t pretend because I have spent the last few years pretending and I’m tired of it.”
Your brows furrowed together. “What are you—”
“I wasn’t lying when I told your friends,” Nico continued, his eyes never leaving yours. It was almost like he was afraid to look away. It was like he was scared you would disappear if he did, or he would lose the confidence he had to say what he had been feeling since he first saw you. “I had the biggest crush on you when you joined the team years ago.”
Your lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. No words were needed as Nico continued.
“And Jack knew. Everyone fucking knew how I felt about you,” he admitted with a laugh, one that was a little dry and self-depricating. “They knew how I felt about you before you even spoke to me. And then Jack saw the opportunity and he tried to help me but it just made everything worse.”
Your heart twisted at his words.
“Because it showed me what life would be like if I was actually yours,” Nico whispered, voice cracking and emotions raw. “It showed me what it would be like for you to hold my hand and call me your boyfriend and introduce me to your friends like I’m this huge part of your life. And now it fucking sucks that it’s not true, that it’s over. And I can’t just keep going on in life and seeing you at work on Monday and acting like I’m still okay with pretending—”
You kissed him.
He was standing at your doorstep confessing a million different things at once, confessing things that had your head spinning and your brain racing to catch up with. But he was standing there and he felt the same way and you just couldn’t help yourself but to grab his face and kiss him.
Nico sunk into the kiss like it was what his body was made for, like an instinctive reaction to grip your hips and pull you closer. Your arms slowly wound around his neck, tugging him down to deepen the kiss as every racing thought in your head stopped and there was just him, him, him.
“I don’t want to pretend either,” you murmured against his lips because you genuinely didn’t have it within you to pull away properly, to put any more distance between you.
You could feel him smile against your lips. “No?”
“No,” you swallowed harshly as you lightly nudged his nose with your own. “I don’t want to go back to the way everything was before the wedding. I don’t want you to become a stranger in my life.”
“Never, schatz,” he murmured softly before leaning down to press his lips against yours again, slow and purposeful. 
You let him slowly lead you back into your apartment, listened to the way he kicked the door shut with his boot as he led you towards the coach in your living room. You could feel his smile against your own as you fell back onto the cushions, his body a comfortable and familiar weight on you as memories of your mornings together flashed through your mind.
“Oh god.”
Nico pulled back, holding his weight on his elbows as he looked down at you with a frown. “What?”
“Jack is going to be so fucking smug,” you grumbled, playfully groaning whilst the boy on top of you just laughed. 
“You’re something else,” Nico murmured with a grin.
You raised your brows. “Good something?” 
“Best something,” Nico corrected before he leaned down to kiss you again. 
.
2K notes · View notes