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sydnikov · 4 months

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the ink on your skin || N. Hischier

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Nico Hischier / gn!Reader

Word Count: 10.5k

Summary: You’re a successful tattoo artist right in the middle of Newark, New Jersey. One of your many clients just so happens to be a teammate of Nico Hischier, and he and his girlfriend, Natalie, play a game of matchmaker to get you talking. While you’ve never been a huge fan of hockey, getting to know Nico gets you instantly addicted to the sport as well as him. Friendship quickly turns into holding hands, kissing, acting like a couple but holding off on a label… And then, finally, right as you’re drifting apart, Nico swoops in and turns it into something more.

Warnings: Cursing, some angst, lots of anxiety talk, Tw*tter mentions, mostly fluff, poorly proofread

A/N: This is for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @wyattjohnston ‘s Winter Fic Exchange 2024 😁 I’ve been wanting to write for Nico for a while anyways so this gave me the perfect opportunity, and I really enjoyed having a bit of a personalized reader insert to play around with. I hope y’all enjoy! Loosely based on the lyrics of “Tribulation” by Matt Maeson

“Fuck, man, that hurts,”

You chuckle, lifting the needle of your tattoo gun for a few seconds before continuing your work. “I’m almost done, I swear,” you reassure, hiding your smirk as you take a napkin to dab away at the excess ink surrounding your linework.

The very man you’re tattooing, Jonas Siegenthaler, or ‘Siegs’ as you affectionately call him, is someone you’ve known for years. He is also a regular of your tattoo parlor, and right now is getting a lion on his right wrist shaded in.

Playing professional hockey, he doesn’t have much time to spend keeping up with a healing tattoo, but Jonas scheduled an appointment with you a week ago after his team, the New Jersey Devils, were eliminated in the playoffs. With three months to himself, he told you that now is the perfect time to get started on shading his wrist again.

Jonas curses again as the needle goes over the underside of his wrist, and once again you can’t hide back your laughter. You’ve been a tattoo artist for quite a few years now and are fairly used to the varying reactions your customers have, but expletives always manage to get you to break character. With any other client you’d at least attempt to be stoic, but you’ve been friends for long enough to know he doesn’t mind.

Finally, you finish your work, wiping away the remaining ink and powering off your tattoo gun. “Alright, Siegs, that’s it for today.” you say, wrapping his wrist with the proper coverings. Once you’re done sanitizing your own hands, you admire the art on his skin for a moment.

Jonas does the same, sitting up with a giant grin on his face. “It looks amazing, as always,” he looks like he wants to touch his newly-inked skin, but refrains when seeing the warning on your face.

“Okay,” you say as you lead him to the front of the store to ring up his aftercare supplies. Jonas is no amateur when it comes to tattoos by any means, but you feel the need to remind him anyway because athletes in particular always tend to lax out on tattoo aftercare. “You know the drill, but I’m still telling you anyways,”

Jonas just raises an eyebrow, listening to you list off all aftercare instructions as if he hasn’t been coming to you for years. Strangely enough, he couldn’t actually think of a time you’d hung out with each other outside of your working hours. He’ll have to change that, he hums to himself, especially after seeing the small New Jersey Devils flag you have hung on the wall.

“Have you ever been to a Devils game?” he asks as you’re handing him his aftercare supplies.

“I don’t think so, no. You know I don’t pay attention to hockey that much.”

“You should,” Jonas pushes, following you as you shuffle around the entrance of your parlor, likely looking for some supply he wouldn’t know the name of. “We’re a blast. And playoff hopeful again next season,”

You shoot him a wry smile, the both of you knowing it would take a lot more convincing to get you to leave the comforts of your shop to watch a sport you’ve never kept up with before. “Yeah? I’ll consider it,” you deadpan.

The defenseman takes no offense to your words, instead finding them to be a challenge. Mischievously, he grins. “Your consideration will turn into a yes, just you wait,”

“Sure,” you laugh, changing the subject. “You get an uber yet?” It’s relatively early in the day, so competition for booking one shouldn’t be too difficult.

Jonas shakes his head, unlocking his phone at the reminder of needing to leave. “Nah, my teammate is picking me up. He’s our captain, maybe you’ve heard of him—Nico Hischier?”

You think back to news articles you’ve seen online from late April when the Devils made the playoffs for the first time in years and you think you may have heard something about the team’s captain, but otherwise you don’t know much.

“I thought everyone would have gone home by now,” you say instead. It had been a week since their season ended, after all. Maybe this Nico guy had captain duties to attend to? You figure it’s nice of him to pick his teammate up from getting a tattoo either way, though.

The hockey player hears the curiosity in your voice, wondering how you would react to meeting his captain. “We’re both from Switzerland, so we both agreed to fly home together once we were all finished up here in Jersey. Getting my wrist shaded was the last thing on the list, thankfully,”

You make a noncommittal noise of understanding, your curiosity officially peeked by this ‘Nico’ guy. If you’ve learned anything about how the Swiss act from Jonas, you’re definitely looking forward to seeing if this captain was anything like his teammate.

Soon enough, the bell above your door is ringing as a man enters the parlor. You assume it’s Nico Hischier because of the Devils beanie he’s wearing, and because he looks out of place standing in your little parlor on the opposite side of town where his team plays. You wouldn’t know he has several tattoos himself.

You meet his eyes for a moment, and it almost looks like he’s caught off guard by the sight of you before he spots Jonas. He’s tall, you note to yourself, his shy smile endearing as he greets his teammate with a pat on the back.

“Nico!” Jonas greets happily, engaging in a short conversation before he turns his arm up to show his newly-shaded ink. “This one hurt like a bitch, but it’s looking beautiful now, isn’t it?”

“It is,” the man who you now know to be Nico confirms, admiring your work on his friend’s skin. “You did this?” he suddenly asks, the deep timber of his voice catching you off guard.

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless. He’s beautiful. You think to yourself, confused about why you suddenly feel so hot when you purposefully keep the temperature in your shop cool. “Jonas is one of my regulars.”

Nico hums in response, eyes flitting back and forth from the lion on Jonas’s wrist and back to you, undoubtedly curious about how long his teammate has known you, and why he feels disappointed that he can’t see the rest of the ink decorating your own arms.

He himself is no stranger to tattoos, but he doesn’t have many nor do his look so intricate on his body like they do on yours. I need a new tattoo artist, he thinks, then mentally slaps himself because what?

With your cheeks feeling like they’re on fire, you turn away from the two hockey players in front of you to try and hide the embarrassment you feel. Unbeknownst to you, your movements make the light catch the dainty jewelry decorating your ears and nose, and Nico now undoubtedly finds himself in awe at your retreating form.

Who are you? He thinks. Siegs is a shit for not introducing you sooner. And then he rolls his eyes at himself again. What the fuck is the matter with him, anyways? He must have gotten a concussion during the playoffs, or something.

“You’re a regular?” He looks to his friend, subtly asking how long you’ve known each other. “You must like them, then,”

Jonas never prided himself on being intuitive; Nico’s prying went right over his head. He says your name with a fond smile, briefly looking to you as you mess around your desk again. “Oh, yeah, they’re the best. They’re fucking amazing with a tattoo gun, not to mention a huge Devils fan, too,”

You just so happen to overhear their conversation. “No, I’m not,” you scowl, but quickly retract your statement because Nico is looking at you like you just kicked his puppy. “Well, I mean, I’m a fan but not, like, a huge fan. I’ve never even been to a game,”

“Siegs, you should’ve brought ‘em around sooner, what the fuck!”

“I tried,”

Nico continues on like he didn’t hear him. “You’re coming to opening night. On me—on us, yeah?”

You’re much too in shock to comment on his slip of tongue, instead staring wide-eyed as he looks at you with determination. Nico just met you, but feels this compelling need to know you beyond the fact that you’re his friend’s reserved tattoo artist.

“You might as well just say yes,” Jonas speaks up, having caught on to your hesitation. “He won’t stop until you do,”

“Damn right.” The captain agrees, crossing his arms to further cement his point.

You’re drawn to the muscles that flex under the material of his shirt, and okay. Wow. With the way your body is heating up you would think that you’ve never been attracted to another human being in your life.

Quickly, your eyes dart back up to Nico’s, and you flush when you see he’s already caught onto your admiration of his body. He raises an eyebrow, teasing, and then you finally blurt out your response lest he call you out. “Well,” you start, clearing your throat when your voice comes out hoarse. “I guess that could be fun, yeah?”

Nico’s infectious grin at your agreement has you returning one of your own, flushed at the way you already knew your life would be a much happier one if you got to see him smile like that at you forever.

The two Devils’ players left soon after that, but not before you exchanged numbers with Nico Hischier himself while a smug Jonas watched from the background. “So I can send you the tickets when the time comes,” he’d said.

It was a perfectly believable excuse to you, but Jonas clapping his teammate on the back as if it were some kind of accomplishment had you questioning if Nico planned on texting you before their opening night.

You forced yourself to forget about it, though, in the meanwhile. You still had two more clients after they left, and you couldn’t exactly do your best work if Nico’s chiseled face and soft eyes wouldn’t leave your head.

And then a sharp pang struck your heart as you figure you’re just being delusional again. Reading too much into a situation that had no call for it, and imagining the way he looked at you like there was something behind your guarded eyes he wanted to explore.

No, you quickly put an end to your thoughts, steeling your resolve as you march back into the shelter of your shop. You aren’t putting yourself through this. Not again.

In a world of meaningless hookups and disappointing endings, you were a damaged romantic who would have once given the world if asked. But that hope for the future you envision with rose colored glasses is long gone, destroyed along with the pieces of your heart that shattered the last time you let yourself get too close to someone.

You decide then and there, with the image of Nico Hischier and his look of awe the moment he first saw you, that you weren’t going to ever grant him the ability to break you like the last person who did so years ago.

Despite the politeness he exudes, you half expect him to start making a move the moment he lands in Switzerland. You think he’ll start with a text that says, ‘Hey, how are you?’ and once you respond (because you will) he’ll send you pictures of him in his homeland, ones that require a compliment or an inquiry about what he’s doing.

You think you have him figured out. Men are predictable, you would know—their brains all work the same, and that includes how they hit on people they’re interested in.

However, you’re surprised to find that a text from him never comes. There’s no message awaiting you in between tattoo sessions, no ‘how are you’ or a picture of a ski lift or whatever it is people do in Switzerland. It irritates you because you don’t have Nico all figured out like you thought.

If you couldn’t place him into the typical group of uncommitted assholes you’d come to learn, then just who is he?

The answer escapes you for many months after. You certainly don’t text him, but you do find his Instagram after drinking one too many glasses of wine and scroll through his pictures. Nico isn’t very active online is what you gather, for his last post was back in May after they got eliminated from the playoffs.

It makes him endearing, much to your displeasure. People glued to their phones and still use Snapchat as their main form of communication irritate you to no end.

Not Nico, though…

He stays on your mind for the entirety of summer, because you just couldn’t get the memory of his eyes out of your head. It panics you a little because it feels like you’re forming a crush, and your last one didn’t exactly bode well for you.

Whatever. It’s just a small, meaningless feeling that just so happens to have stuck. Nico probably wasn’t even going to send you a ticket for opening night.

This is what you tell yourself as September rolls around, the NHL preseason starts, and your stomach sinks deeper and deeper the closer the Devils’ opening night comes.

You’re thinking about him again right now, much to your displeasure, as you finish wiping down one of your stations after your last client of the day left. It was a busy one, and you’re grumpy because your neck hurts from leaning over for so long.

You accidentally knock over your cleaning spray in the midst of your aggressive cleaning, and just as you pick up the bottle there’s a quiet knock on your shop’s door.

“I thought I flipped the closed sign,” you mutter, exiting the room you were just in and walking to the lobby. You’re unable to make out who it is outside, the only striking feature being that they’re tall.

You open the door warily, speaking before they get the chance to. “Sorry, we’re closed for the night. You can come back tomorrow morning or call to book an appointment—”

“I’m not here for a tattoo.” He interrupts you with what sounds like amusement, and you freeze because you would recognize that voice anywhere.

You look up to meet his eyes, and are struck with the same dark brown that’s been haunting your mind for months.

“Nico,” you say, shock written all over your face. You lick your lips, trying to find something to say. “You’re… What are you doing here?”

“I still have the address saved from when Siegs sent it to me,” he admits, aware that’s not what you’re really asking. Facing you now, he finds himself nervous. You hadn’t changed much, except for maybe the addition of another piercing in your right ear, he thinks.

But you were so unlike other strangers he’s met in the past; they know who he is, all about his life, whereas you look at him like you’re not sure what to think.

Nico finds it refreshing. You’re intriguing, someone to figure out—not to mention he really likes your tattoos. And piercings. He fights the urge to trail his fingers up your sleeves to reveal the art decorating your skin.

You’re raising an eyebrow at him, and then he realizes he’s been silent for a good minute while he’s been staring at you. He releases a quick breath, “You still want to come to opening night, right?”

“I do,” you say, foregoing acting coy. Fuck it, you actually did really want to go. “Why? Is there an issue?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he reassures, giving you a quick smile. “I’d just rather explain the ticket situation in person than on text,”

His reasoning sounds understandable to you, but you fail to pick up on why he still seems so nervous. It’s just a ticket to a game, right?

“So since it’s just you,” he starts, hesitantly. “You’ll be sitting with, um. You’ll be in the wives and girlfriends section.”

Truthfully, Nico wouldn’t be shocked if you decline after hearing where you’ll be sitting. He himself probably would have, because who, as a stranger, wants to sit with the players’ significant others?

He watches your reaction, holding his breath. But all you do is laugh a little, shrug nonchalantly even though internally you’re shitting your pants.

“Okay, but you do know I’m neither a wife nor a girlfriend,” of you, you want to add, but keep that last part to yourself. Even though over the course of these last few months your mind definitely imagined it.

Your expression is teasing, the corner of your lips quirked up into a small smirk that has the tension falling from Nico’s shoulders. You aren’t mad. This is a start.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking rather sheepish. “I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that,” he mumbles lowly, meeting your eyes. If you look closely you think you can see a rosy hue covering his cheeks.

“It’s just one game, yeah?” You muse, secretly pleased at the fact that he’s the nervous one this time, not you. “Nothing wrong with that,”

Nico lets out a breathless laugh, relieved knowing you won’t be caught off guard when you come to the opening game in October.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Nothing wrong with that all.”

He stays for a few more minutes after that, your conversation surprisingly pleasant with little awkwardness as you shyly ask about his stay back home, and he gladly expresses his joy at being back in Switzerland for a few months.

His unabashed enthusiasm to share his life with you catches you off guard, but you find that you like learning these little things about him. It defeats your whole purpose of not letting yourself get close to him, but you push that worry to the back of your mind for later.

Nico does eventually leave, but not before giving you a hug that leaves your heart racing. One of his hands came to rest respectfully at the small of your back, and you could have sworn you felt his lips brush your cheek before he pulled away.

“See you soon,” he had grinned, his eyes dark and enthused.

Feeling corny and rather irritated with yourself, your fingers brush the spot on your cheek, swearing you could still feel the heat of his lips.

You still don’t hear from Nico even after his visit, and you’re once again struck by the fact that you still can't tell what his intentions are. You find yourself checking your phone anyway, going so far as to stalk his Instagram. Again.

This is most definitely becoming a bad habit. A very bad one. You think to yourself as, one day, you find yourself staring at your screen once more, weeks having gone by with the brown eyed boy still on your mind.

With another client in just over two hours, you find yourself using the break to get some work done on your laptop at the desk in the lobby of your shop. You aren’t very productive, but it makes you feel better about your wandering imagination being so distracting.

Just having happened to save a finished spreadsheet of your recent clients and their pricing, a man is pushing open the door to your shop. You quickly determine that it’s some type of delivery based on the package he carries before he drops it onto your counter.

He reads out your name from a paper, glancing up at you for confirmation of your identity. “Yes, that’s me,” you say, eyeing the unknown sender label. “Do you know who sent this?” You haven’t placed any orders recently, so it isn’t something from you.

The mailman shakes his head, giving you a polite smile before wishing you a good rest of your day. You wave to him offhandedly as he exits the shop, and then find a pair of scissors to carefully cut through the tape holding the box shut.

As if you’re opening Pandora’s box, you’re wary as you unfold the cardboard, your fingers brushing against thick fabric before carefully taking it out.

Unfolded and spread out across your desk, you freeze. You’re lucky no one else is here in the front to see you because your face is a deep shade of tomato red, and you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

Before you lay a jersey for the New Jersey Devils, and you know even before turning it over that it has Nico Hischier’s surname and number printed on the back.

As you’re staring at the jersey in awe, your fingers trailing over the brand new and surely expensive fabric, your phone pings with a new message.

It’s from a number you’d memorized months ago even though you’d never once used it to communicate. A text from Nico Hischier greets you as you unlock your phone.

UPS sent me a notification that the package I sent you arrived. I hope you like it. Looking forward to seeing you next month :)

“Oh, he’s good,” you say out loud, your smile growing even wider if that were possible. Your heart’s tempo picks up, and your fingers fly across the keyboard to respond.

You’re still not sure what he’s about—what are his plans here? Does he like you? Is he flirting for fun or does he have intentions to go forward?

You try not to overthink it as you finalize your response, pressing send soon after.

I just got it. I have to say, you’re bold. I guess I have no choice but to wear it now considering how much it probably cost you.

As if he were waiting for a response, a new message appears almost instantly.

It’s no big deal. Really. Just want to make your first game a memorable one. I’ll sign the jersey for you, too.

Careful, hot shot, I might start thinking you have other intentions here.

You wouldn’t be wrong.

September passes quickly, and before you know it October 12 is here and you’re nervously walking through Prudential Center to the section your seat is in.

You don’t stick out as much as you think you do, which is relieving because everyone around you is too focused on getting to their own seats and discussing the game.

You know you don’t fit the typical bill of someone coming to support a professional hockey player, considering what you think you are to Nico is… Complicated.

Your arms are covered in small but meaningful tattoos, and your ears are decorated with piercings along with the lone stud on your nose. You wouldn’t think someone like Nico would find it all attractive about you, but he’s said so numerous times over call and text.

You think about said communication as you finally sit down, a good thirty minutes before the game starts because nobody else is around you yet.

After Nico sent you his jersey, it’s like the floodgates opened from whatever was holding the two of you back from talking. Despite your reservations, he enraptured you from the get-go and you just couldn’t stop yourself from falling.

Nico is a really good texter, surprisingly. None of the lower case bullshit or long response times you’d expect from a sports player, but instead the exact opposite.

He doesn’t give you the feeling of talking to a child, an immature man who doesn’t know what he wants; in the time spent between him first using your number and going to the game, you’ve noticed how his responses are thought out and intentional. He responds quickly, but not too quickly to make you think he doesn’t have a career to focus on, and he makes you smile when he adds those cute smiley faces after the end of his texts.

You think you’re enjoying Nico Hischier a little too much to be normal, but you choose not to focus on that as you’re greeted by an unknown woman tapping your shoulder.

“Hi!” She says, giving you a welcoming smile that instantly puts you at ease. “Nico said he invited someone to come tonight. And Jonas,” she adds the last part like it was an afterthought, then gives you a slightly apologetic look. “He didn’t have time to tell us your name, so he just said to look for piercings and tattoos. I’m assuming that’s you?”

You’re not offended by others using your slightly unconventional looks to point you out; you’re proud of all of your piercings and the ink decorating your skin. You wouldn’t be you without them.

Slightly overwhelmed at the amount of words that just spewed from her mouth, though, you hide it well as you damper your nerves to respond. “Hi. Yeah, um, that’s me. They both - Nico and Jonas - really wanted me to come tonight.” You don’t include the fact that it was all Nico who sent you the ticket, showed up at your shop, and had been texting you nonstop for the past month.

The woman grins, seemingly relieved she had the right person. “Nico never brings anyone around so we were all pretty excited to meet you. I’m Natalie, Jonas’ girlfriend, by the way.”

Natalie is the exact type of girl you’d be expecting to date a professional hockey player. She’s blonde with a lithe figure, bright blue eyes and a face that could be on the front page of a magazine. She fits in with this crowd, not you, but you try not to let that bother you as you focus on her being the woman who makes one of your good clients happy.

Jonas has mentioned his girlfriend numerous times before, singing nothing but praises, and he’s even shown you a picture. Now that she’s in front of you, you instantly recognize her.

“I thought I recognized you,” you say. “I’m Jonas’ tattoo artist, he talks about you all the time,” maybe you were exaggerating a bit, but. Siegs wouldn’t mind. You were buttering him up to the ‘love of his life’, after all.

“He’s mentioned you too, oh my gosh, now it’s all clicking!” Natalie instantly gasps, sliding into the seat next to you. “You’re crazy talented. All of his tattoos are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you grin, a little bashful. “He’s a great guy. I enjoy working with him.”

Natalie smiles back, and soon the two of you are joined by the rest of the WAG’s as the puck drop grows closer. Just as you’re about to pull out your phone, Natalie has seemingly managed to break free from whoever she was talking to.

“So, how do you know Nico? Jonas didn’t mention much about you coming, it was mostly Neeks who asked us to greet you,”

Neeks? You file that nickname away for later, and then your face grows red because you’re not sure how to answer her question.

“We actually met because of Jonas, funny enough. He was getting his wrist shaded, right after they got eliminated from the playoffs, and he asked Nico to come pick him up from my shop when it was done.”

“I remember,” Natalie says. “We were flying to Switzerland right after he was done. Sorry, you can continue,”

“You’re good,” you chuckle. “But yeah, then Jonas mentioned how I’d never been to a game, and Nico is who managed to convince me to come tonight.” You keep it simple, vague. No need to provide a complicated answer, mostly because you didn’t know how to reply without making it seem like you and Nico hadn’t been flirting for weeks now.

She looks like she’s about to say something, but suddenly the lights are dimming and an announcer is speaking, his loud voice booming throughout the arena. The next thing you know the lights are coming back on full blast, the puck is dropped, and ten hockey players are whipping across the ice at lightning speed.

Holy shit, you want to say, the sounds of screaming fans and players slamming against the boards rather overwhelming to you but in a good way. It has your blood pumping, and while you don’t understand much of anything - like why the refs blow the whistle randomly or what certain penalties mean - you find that you’re having a good time with Natalie keeping you company, explaining things as they occur.

“That Red Wings player is going into the box which means they’re down a player, and—oh, look, there’s Nico!” She’s pointing to the ice, and you have to squint to follow her line of sight, but you quickly recognize the Swiss captain’s profile and fight the muscles in your face from breaking into a smile.

Alas, you end up losing that battle as a grin manages to fight its way onto your face anyway. You know he can’t see you from so far up, but you like to think he tries as the Jumbotron focuses on him and catches his eyes peering up into the general direction of where you’re seated.

To downplay your excitement at spotting him, you ask, “What’s Jonas’ number?”

“Seventy-one,” Natalie answers, about to say something else, but interrupts herself as she along with almost every other fan in the arena jumps up out of their seats to shout obscenities at the referees.

Yeah, you think to yourself, comically scared of the aggression these hockey fans show for their team. This will take some getting used to.

Almost three hours later, the Devils manage to secure the win for their first game of the season. They almost blew it, or that’s what you hear from others around you, but you’re just glad to have something to congratulate Nico for when you go to meet him outside the locker room.

Speaking of, you along with the other WAG’s are walking down there right now, and your nerves from before the game are coming back full-force, stomach-twisting, vomit-inducing and all.

You’re standing next to Natalie as she talks with two other girls, and you’re content to just listen because your nerves aren’t allowing you to do anything else.

Then, as if the universe were tuned into your thoughts, the locker room doors open and multiple Devils players come streaming out. They’re freshly showered, back in the suits they arrived at the arena in, and you don’t even bother to hide your eagerness as you look for Nico in the crowd.

You spot Jonas first, though, as he catches sight of Natalie and bounds over to her with open arms. “Good game,” you think she says, then says something even quieter and that’s when Jonas sees you standing next to them.

He says your name in shock before a broad smile stretches over his face. “You came!” And then he’s also bringing you into a hug, looking all too happy to have some of his favorite people surrounding him.

“I did,” you laugh, pulling back after a moment. “It was really fun to watch. I’m glad you guys won,” you kind of wince at the end, knowing their win was shaky at best, but he looks like he appreciates the humor all the same.

“Yeah, we are too,” he says, then looks as if he just remembered something. “Nico was coming out right behind me, and—oh, there he is! Neeks!” He calls his captain’s name abruptly, and you swivel around to see Nico Hischier in the flesh heading towards you.

“There you are with the nickname again,” Nico chuckles as he approaches, then embraces his friend as if they didn’t just see each other a minute ago.

When he pulls back, his eyes quickly find yours, and unlike the first time you met there’s no awkwardness as Nico gives you a wide grin before wrapping his arms around you.

“You came,” he says into the top of your hair, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you time to speak before he’s pulling back only slightly, enough to see your face from below peering up at him.

You take in the sight of him above you, rendered speechless as this image of him smiling so happily will likely replay in your memory forever. Nico is pure ecstasy, delight incarnate as those dark brown eyes likely have you painted in a way you could never see yourself in.

Finally finding your words, you duck your head for a moment, embarrassed at the blush you know is on your cheeks. “I wouldn’t miss it,” you say, referring to the game. “You played great, Neeks,”

Nico playfully leans back, lightly groaning at hearing you tease his nickname. “I should’ve known they’d say that in front of you,” he sighs, but you can tell it’s in nothing but jest as his smile remains. “Thank you, though,”

And now it was his turn to be bashful, as the blood rushes to his cheeks. What a picture you’re sure the two of you were; both pairs of hands still holding the other and equally flustered expressions on your faces. You find that you don’t mind the contact, though, despite having a slight aversion to touch. Nico’s warmth is comforting, and you rather like being close to him.

It’s not until Jonas coughs loudly from behind you that you and Nico finally release your hold on one another, and you turn to see he and Natalie looking at the two of you with barely contained excitement.

You meet Nico’s eyes, both of you struggling to hide your laughs at Jonas and Natalie’s failed poker faces. “Nice assist, Siegs,” you say to break the lingering tension, and the four of you come together like you’d all been close friends for years.

As you’re all leaving the arena through the exit the players use, Jonas and Nico walk ahead of you, exchanging teasing words and lighthearted insults, while you and Natalie watch from behind.

“So,” Natalie chirps, looking at you expectantly. “What do you think?”

You’re not dumb. You know she’s asking about Nico, thinking this is the first time you’ve talked to him since you first met him at your tattoo shop.

“Hockey? Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” you say, snickering when she sighs at your avoidance. “I’ll have to go to more games.”

“Not about hockey, about Nico,” Natalie says, whispering his name as if it’s taboo. “We aren’t blind. That was a long hug, and Nico literally never brings anyone here. Ever.”

“Technically, Jonas offered to bring me to a game first,”

The spunky blonde ignores you, offhandedly waving her arm. “Semantics. He also keeps turning around to look at you. Like right now.”

What? You instantly look ahead and see she’s right, your eyes meeting Nico’s. His face turns red as he sends you a shy smile, and then he turns back to Jonas who is still talking beside him.

Natalie observes the interaction, a small grin on her face. “You’ve both been talking long before now, haven’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” you chuckle bashfully, slightly embarrassed your interactions allow her to pick up on your chemistry so quick. She shrugs, increasing her stride to stand in front of you as you reach their cars. “A little. But I’ve known Nico for a bit now, he’s a good guy. He likes you, too, I think.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before Jonas is wrapping an arm around Natalie’s waist, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “We gotta get going, yeah? Early morning tomorrow,”

Nico’s hand is brushing against your arm as he moves to your side, unable to tell if the resulting shiver from his touch is from the slight chill in the air or just him. “We have a game in Arizona, a back-to-back,” he clarifies, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you say. “That sucks.”

“Not this time. I’ll have plenty of good things to think about on the flight.” He winks at you, perfectly implying what those ‘good things’ are.

Your face turns red just as Jonas pretends to gag. “That would be our sign to leave. Right, babe?” He attempts to lead his girlfriend away, but Natalie suddenly gasps and runs back to you.

“I forgot to get your number,” she says, thrusting her phone into your hands. “We’re definitely hanging out again.” And, well, okay then. Who are you to deny her?

Jonas and Natalie drive away in his fancy sports car, which leaves you to walk Nico to his own. It’s quiet between the two of you, comforting because you’re both content to revel in each other’s company. Your hands occasionally brush - purely Nico’s fault - until he gathers the bravery to lace your fingers together just as you approach his car.

He doesn’t drop your hand, not even as he turns to face you once you come to a stop. “You have a ride home?”

You shrug sheepishly. No, you hadn’t really thought that far. “I was just planning on ubering…”

Nico scoffs, as if the very thought offends him. “Yeah, no. I’ll drive you home.” At the apprehensive look on your face, his confidence wavers slightly, and he mindlessly rubs his thumb over your hand to calm his own nerves. “If you’re okay with it, of course,”

Why does he have to be so cute? You give in instantly, the tension melting from your bones as, boldly, you use his grip on your hand to tug him closer. “That would be great, Nico, thank you.”

While his car, like Jonas’, is also expensive, you feel comfortable surrounded by the dark material and the scent of Nico’s cologne. The radio is playing softly, and he’s humming along quietly while strumming the fingers of his hand on the steering wheel. His other is resting on the gear shift, but you can tell by the way his hand keeps twitching that he wants to move it closer to you.

If you’ve learned anything about Nico within the weeks that you’ve been talking to him, it’s that he is huge on physical touch. He said it over text, but in person it’s even more obvious because his hands are rarely to himself when he’s next to you.

As the minutes go by, you finally give in to his body’s desire with a laugh as you reach over to tangle your hands together, now resting in your lap. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you liked touching, were you?”

Even with the darkness surrounding him, you can easily spot the maroon flush blooming across his cheeks. He briefly looks to you, unable to hide his grin before turning his attention back to the road. “No,” he laughs, gripping your hand reflexively like he’s testing out the contact. “I wasn’t.”

You’re both significantly more loose after you give in to your want for the other, and the rest of the ride is silent save for the occasional song lyrics mumbled by Nico. Almost too quickly he’s pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and you’re disappointed when your hands release as you climb out of the car.

“Can I walk you to your door?”

“Sure.”

Like the car ride, the walk to your apartment is comfortably silent, and this time Nico doesn’t hesitate when taking your hand. He smiles when you shiver, but doesn’t say anything which you appreciate.

The elevator is stopping at your floor almost too soon, and you find yourself not wanting the night to end. You’re enjoying his company far too much, and you really like holding his hand. Imagining yourself doing this on a regular basis is overwhelming and definitely freaks you out a little once you come to a stop at your door.

“Here I am,” you chuckle, a little awkwardly. So… What do you do now? Thank him? Hug him? Kiss him?

You go to say something, anything… But Nico beats you to it. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I couldn’t see you from the ice, but I liked trying to pretend I could see you watching me.” He winks, then, and you don’t bother denying that yes, you were watching him the entire time.

You still try to be humble, though. “Thank you for getting me a ticket,” you say, trying to decide how forward you should be. His eyes sparkle, though, as you talk, like he can’t get enough of your voice… “All the girls were nice. Welcoming. It was fun pretending I was one of them.”

“I want you to be,” Nico blurts, almost breathless. “‘One of them’, that is. I think I like you,” he laughs like he can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

You’re unable to take your eyes off him, those dark brown of his bearing into you. The color is warm, just like Nico because he reminds you of a summer day and if he's the sun, then you’re a mere leaf desperately searching for his light.

“I think I like you too,” you admit, a little quieter, a little shy. You still don’t like being touched, but as his hands come to cup your cheeks you decide that you do like the feel of his calloused skin against yours, and then he’s dipping his head to capture your lips in a kiss you don’t know you’ve been waiting for.

You melt instantly, sighing into his mouth with relief. Nico’s kisses are long and smooth, and you’re happy to let him lead before he’s pulling back all too soon, his beard scruff leaving the skin around your lips burning pleasantly.

Fluttering eyes open, leaving you with the distinct feeling of coming up from underwater. Nico looks just as elated as you feel, gazing at you from dark brown eyes filled with adoration. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, and then he’s stepping back respectfully.

“I’ll call you when I get back to my place, yeah?” He says, and you’re glad he seems just as eager to continue talking as you are.

“Yeah, that… That works,” English has left your head, and you stumble over what to say next. Nico has left you speechless, literally. “Drive safe.”

He flashes you a blinding smile, and then disappears back into the elevator.

“Oh fuck,” you say to the emptiness of the corridor. “Fuck. I’m so fucked.”

Nico calls you when he gets home, just like he said he would. He also calls you the day after that and the day after that, and when he can’t call because of a game or practice or whatever, he’s texting you.

You’re swept up in the world of Nico Hischier; his friends have become your (albeit, surface) friends, Natalie has taken you under her wing, and as the weeks go by you’re regularly attending games in the WAG section.

There’s no label on your relationship, and while you like that you’re taking this slow, there's still this desire to kiss him in front of everyone after a game won, to show the hockey world that this man, this man right here is yours.

You don’t act on it, though, as much as you may want to. You have this fear that because your appearance isn’t so conventional, that Nico would get hate for being seen with you. Everyone around you subtly hints that this fear of yours is irrational, but you know better.

As the new year comes and goes - it’s the best way you’ve spent new years in forever because Nico kisses you right as the clock strikes twelve, under the flashing lights and his cheering teammates around you - the Devils’ season continues to dominate. They’re projected to make the playoffs again, and you’re going to just about every game now to show your support.

What you don’t realize is that the fans’ scrutiny of the players only grows the closer the end of the regular season comes, and their attention also shifts to the significant others. WAG playoff jackets are apparently a thing, and you hear from Natalie how the designs for this year are already in the works.

Nico hinted one night that he wanted you to wear one by mentioning he can’t wait to see you when they’re in the playoffs. You gave him a slight look of suspicion because he said it in a way like he’s anticipating something, but he only shrugged cheekily when you tried prying.

Everything comes to an ugly head, though, when you discover hockey Twitter. You’ve obviously known of the app, but you only download it when you hear how the hockey coverage is extensive and you decide you want to keep up with all NHL news more easily.

That’s when you stumble across a term called ‘puck bunnies’, and how there are accounts dedicated to the players’ dating lives with information as trivial as who they’re being spotted with.

Anxiety takes control one night when you’re scrolling through a gossip page, and you succumb to the urge to search Nico’s name. To your horror, there are posts mentioning how a new person (you) has joined the WAG’s at games, and fans have spotted him leaving with this new person consistently.

You can’t find anything mentioning your identity, but you do find criticisms of your appearance. A lot of them. And, really, you knew this was going to happen, it was just a matter of when. The thought doesn’t comfort you, though, as your stomach drops when past girlfriends of Nico are brought up.

They’re all blondes, the occasional brunette, too. Of course they are. You figure anyways that part of the reason you were so intriguing to him to begin with is because you’re so unlike anyone he’s ever dated before. It still doesn’t make you feel better.

You have unconventional piercings, tattoos and quite a lot of them, and you don’t have the money to splurge on expensive clothing like these models do. A word a lot of these hateful posts use is ‘downgrade’, and your insecurities start to agree.

Why does Nico even like you? What do you have that these other girls don’t? From the looks of it, you’re the first of, well, you that he’s ever dated.

You hate it. You hate all of it. Twitter, stupid puck bunnies (how demeaning, too?), your incredibly strong feelings for Nico, and the thought that you aren’t good enough for him.

Now, what you should be doing is calling him. Hell, even Natalie. You know you need to talk to someone about what you’ve found, get some reassurance that the online gossip is purely just that: gossip.

But, well, you’ve never been reasonable. Anxiety and overthinking has ruled your life since you could talk. Instead, you stay silent, stew in your self-loathing and scroll through more of the disgusting Twitter thread.

You let these strangers’ words get to you, their biting insults swimming around in the back of your mind over the next few days all while everyone else is none the wiser.

Especially Nico, who thinks everything is fine until it isn’t. He’s busy with the team, leading with a grace only a captain could possess, and playing his heart out every game to ensure their spot in the postseason. He thinks your distance is because you know how busy he is and simply just don’t want to bother him.

Which, he appreciates you respecting his career, but your shortened responses, curt replies, and frequent denials to come to his games start to signal warning sirens in his head. You aren’t an open book by any means, but this… Nico finds it startling. He knows something is wrong.

So he pries. He texts you more than normal, during video reviews where he’s supposed to be paying attention to replays and right after practices, too. One could say he’s being overbearing, and in the midst of all your self-loathing and depressive overthinking, you snap.

Nico had kept texting you, over and over again, asking for your schedule over the next few days along with continuously asking about when you could see him next. Your fingers moved faster than you could think, and then you pressed send on a message you keep telling yourself you don’t regret.

I just don’t have time, Nico, jesus. Let it go.

The read receipt had appeared under the message less than a minute later, and not another text came through. You’d most definitely had a slight mental breakdown, wanted to call him and apologize and kiss away the frown you’re sure is marring his beautiful lips, but you try convincing yourself it’s for the best.

You don’t deserve all the good that Nico Hischier brings into your life. He’s far too good for you—everyone else seems to think so, too.

And so, that’s that. Nico doesn’t text you anymore and you certainly don’t text him. You’d burned that bridge with no hesitation, and any sparks that were growing between you are certainly extinguished now. This is what you tell yourself, anyways, even as you still can’t stop yourself from tuning into the Devils games over the next few days.

You throw yourself into your work, even more than before. You switch around scheduling for different clients, place multiple sessions right after the other so the buzz of your tattoo gun is too loud for you to think of anything else.

It works, for a time. But you can only do it for so long, and it doesn’t stop you from watching recaps of Nico nor does it keep you from noticing how off-kilter he seems. You’ve come to realize that whenever the captain is off, so is the rest of the team, and the Devils go on a losing streak over the next two weeks that kills you almost as much as you’re sure it’s killing them.

You still don’t contact him, though. You keep your distance, avoid the bars you know they frequent and dodge Natalie’s attempts at meeting up, too. You’re sure she knows you and Nico aren’t talking, either because of how badly he’s playing or because Jonas told her, and you don’t want to give her an opportunity to pry.

And Nico, well. He’s very obviously a mess. He’s snappy, overwhelmed, angry at the littlest things; he broke his stick against the wall during one practice because Jack had passed him a puck, but Nico botched the play just like everything else in his life, apparently.

A perk about being the captain is that none of his teammates have the guts to come up to him to bluntly ask him what’s wrong. On the other hand, his teammates follow his lead to a T, which means that as a result of his foul mood and horrible playing, their spot in the standings has noticeably suffered.

You don’t leave his head, not when he’s in the middle of a game or lying wide awake in his bed until the early hours of the morning. Many times he contemplates breaking the barrier you’d put between the two of you, to ask what he did and if there’s anything he can do to fix it. Nico thinks it’s his fault, that maybe he came off as too clingy…

He knows of your past, knows you’re so wary to jump into relationships for a reason, and figures he just did something to scare you back into seclusion.

The abrupt silence between the two of you builds, and Nico is so frustrated with himself and with you that when they play a division rival, the Philadelphia Flyers, his pent-up aggravation is released and he plays the best hockey he’s probably ever played before in his life.

Nico has never done drugs, but he’s positive the adrenaline pumping through his veins is similar to the rush of dopamine one would feel right after. He’s high off the elation of winning, and it gives him the courage to finally do something about the mounting irritation from his lack of contact with you.

He leaves the rock as soon as he’s able, breaks a few traffic laws in his haste to get to your shop as quickly as possible. It’s a long shot, showing up this late at night on a Friday, but he knows your habits and he knows you.

As he swerves into a parking spot, his gut tells him he’s right. You’re here. You have to be.

Unfortunately for you, Nico is right. You are, in fact, holed up alone in your shop, postponing the lonely ride to your lonely apartment in place of searching for something to do.

You watched the Devils game in the midst of distracting yourself, because of course you did. You saw how the players’ growing frustration led to pure determination that ultimately secured them the win.

You’re proud of them. Proud of Nico. You want to text him, do something, but… then there’s rapid knocking on the doors, and you’re peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of the likely drunkard trying to break in.

You’re about to just wave them off, gesture towards the sign hanging on the window you know is switched to close, but the man outside speaks and you’re frozen.

“Please, baby, let me in,” the voice is laced with pure desperation, and oh, now you can see him as clear as day. He mouths your name through the glass, and you don’t have the strength to send him away.

You reluctantly unlock the door, shying away from his touch when he tentatively puts a hand on your arm. Nico is having none of it, though, and quickly grabs your hand to tug you back towards him. He’s had enough of your silence, isn’t going to let you walk away so easily this time.

When you don’t meet his eyes, he lets out a heavy breath, squeezes your hand once, then, “What the fuck is going on?” and you’re still silent, still avoidant, refusing to look up at his face. He says your name, voice anguished as he begs again, “Talk to me, please?”

You dodge his questions. “Why are you here, Nico?”

Nico reads your body language, watches as you refuse to meet his eyes and finally break away from his touch. He realizes he still affects you, and that you pushing him away is purely because you’re in your own head and don’t know how to get out of it

“Did you see my game?” Nico eventually asks, realizing he has to approach this gently, like you’re a wounded animal and in a sense, you are.

You did, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. (He knows, anyway). So you just shrug, pretending to fiddle with the random shit on your desk.

“So that’s a yes,” Nico mutters to himself. Then, he speaks up, louder, so he knows you hear him. “I scored a goal tonight.” he pauses, waits for your reaction.

You look up then, only for a moment, squinting your eyes in what looks to be a glare. “Congratulations.”

The way you look at him screams paranoid, insecure, and suddenly Nico is hit with the memory of a conversation he had with a fan a few days ago. She was young, in her early teens and certainly not out of highschool so he didn’t take her gossip too seriously, but…

“You guys are so cute!” he remembers her squealing, shoving her phone in his face. It was a blurry picture of the two of you holding hands walking out of the arena, that much he remembers. “Everyone’s hating on them online but they’re all just jealous you’re taken now.”

Nico had been signing her jersey when she said that. He raised an eyebrow, was tuning her out slightly. “Hating? On Twitter? Shocking,” he had laughed. “Does anyone take them seriously?”

The girl - whose name he now doesn’t remember - had shrugged. “A few obsessed people, yeah. Don’t go on Twitter if you want to keep your sanity. I’d tell your… friend that, too.”

Except he didn’t. Her words went through one ear and right out the other, and it’s like a halo of light just lit up his head because oh, Nico understands now, and he feels his stomach dropping over the thought that you’ve been living with this for weeks now.

Nico scoffs at your sass but it sounds more like a laugh. He knows what to do, now. “Signed a few fans’ jerseys after the game, and then I remembered an interesting conversation with this one girl a few games back. It was really enlightening. Wanna know what she said?”

You know what’s coming. You’ve already seen what people say about your rumored relationship with Nico, and you think he’s just telling you this to definitively end whatever you started with each other.

Words escape you, but what does manage to come out is a choked up, “Not really”, under your breath.

“She said people talked about us online. Were saying a bunch of bullshit about how you ‘aren’t my type’ and that I’m too good for you. Can you believe that?”

Nico takes a few cautious steps towards you, leans over your desk to gauge your reaction. He sees the light sheen in your eyes, the way your hands tremble as you attempt to look like you aren’t hanging on to his every word.

But Nico sees right through you. He understands immediately, in that moment, why you’re pushing him away, and it breaks his heart into a million pieces.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, softly. “You didn’t think I agreed with them, did you?”

You try to respond, but you cut yourself off by letting out a sob as the overwhelming emotions catch up to you.

Nico immediately rounds the desk, his own eyes tearing up as he wraps his muscular arms around your body in a protective hug. You’re shaking as you bury your head into his neck, spurting apology after apology.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

“I know,” he shushes, one hand running through your hair while the other rubs soothing circles on your back. “I know. It’s okay,”

“Why don’t you hate me? You should hate me,”

“I could never hate you.”

You don’t let go of Nico, not even as he slides down the wall with you in his arms. It’s behind your desk, so you’re hidden from view. The thought that he did this on purpose so you can break down in peace only makes you cry harder, and yet he doesn’t falter in his comfort.

“Is this why you went silent on me?” He eventually asks, gently, so as to not startle you. “Because of… Twitter?”

You nod imperceptibly, feeling rather embarrassed now that it’s said out loud how much online gossip has bothered you. It wasn’t just because of that, though. “It’s stupid, I know—”

“No, no it’s not. Your feelings aren’t stupid.” He says immediately. “I’m sorry you found those things online. I wish you would’ve told me, or something, that way I could’ve reassured you,”

“I should have,” you say. You almost lost him, this person you care about so deeply. “You scare me so much, though, you know?”

Nico jerks, aghast. “No, no, not like that,” You reassure, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I mean… What I feel for you scares me. Like it’s too good to be true,”

You’re nervous to continue, but then his fingers begin tracing the tattoos on your arms and you shiver because of an entirely new reason, other nerves forgotten.

“And, I don’t know. I guess I was looking for reasons to doubt… Us. Which is wrong, I know. And then I found the Twitter thread, and I let their words confirm what I was already thinking.”

One of his hands trails up the back of your neck, gently massages the skin there for a moment, and is then carefully smoothing over some of your older piercings, admiring how the jewelry looks against your skin. He’s working to calm you down, and it’s working because you then realize you've forgotten how to speak.

“Um,” you swallow, throat dry. “You’re here, though,” you finish lamely, finally meeting his eyes in awe.

“I am.” He affirms. The hand on your arm joins the other to cup your face, and then your eyes flutter shut as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And I’m not going anywhere, yeah? Not unless you tell me to fuck off. ”

“Okay,” you whisper, assured and now content as his arms go back to curling you into his chest. “Okay. Sounds good.” And then a thought strikes you, like the deprivation of his life you’ve been forcing yourself to deal with has had enough. “When’s your next game?”

Nico’s face breaks out into a beautiful smile, one that takes your breath away. “There’s one at home next Thursday,” he says. “I think Natalie might hurt me if I tell her that you’re still too busy, so does this mean you’ll come?”

“Can’t have that now, can we?” you murmur, matching his grin. “But yeah, yeah, I’ll go,” and back to cool nonchalance you go, unable to take the love rushing through you.

Finally, you find the strength to lift yourself off the floor. He immediately grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. As you stand in the middle of your shop, smiling goofily at each other, he looks nervous again, and his thumb smooths over the back of your hand reflexively.

“I’ve missed you,” Nico admits, looking down at you shyly. “Didn’t realize how much I liked having you in my life.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, genuinely upset with yourself for shutting him out. “I missed you too. A lot.”

“So we’re good now, then?” he looks anxious, like he thinks he still did something wrong. “You’ll talk to me next time?”

“We’re good. I’ll talk to you,” you swear. And you’re serious this time. It hurt you just as much as it hurt him to fall out of contact for weeks. Terrifyingly enough, you’re sure it’s because you’re falling in love with him.

You’ll hold back from saying those three words for a little while longer, though.

“So,” you say after a moment. “Catch me up? On everything I missed?”

He grins again, and you think it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. “Can we recap back at my place?” At the suggestive look on your face his face quickly turns red. “I just miss having you in my bed,” he mumbles, and at your laugh just starts dragging you to the door.

“Wait, wait, I need to lock up!” Nico playfully groans, squeezes your hips with a mocking “hurry up” and then you’re running out onto the busy streets of New Jersey like two reckless teenagers looking to elope.

It’s healing, freeing, and dangerous all at once because you can’t stop giggling and Nico can’t stop kissing you, and as you look at his face outlined by the red of a stoplight you think, I could fall in love with him.

You’re sure he’ll catch you when you hit the bottom, too.

A/N: I was planning on including smut but since I wrote this with a gender neutral reader not even I could make that work LMAO regardless, I hope you still enjoyed! I haven’t written a 10k+ fic in a while so I had a lot of fun with this one. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

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loveburrowx · 3 months

Text

Portugal

Request - Joe goes to Portugal for a vacation and he meets Y/N.

Warnings - Smut (intercourse)

A/N - just wanted to make a fanfic with my country! Enjoy!

Joe, quarterback for the Bengals in the NFL, had been feeling the itch to get away from it all. The constant pressure of performing on the field, the endless stream of fans and media, the never-ending demands on his time. He needed a break, a chance to recharge his batteries and just be himself. So, he decided to do something drastic: he booked a one-way ticket to Portugal.

With his trusty travel guide in hand, Joe set off to explore the cobblestone streets of Lisbon, marveling at the city's stunning architecture and vibrant culture. One afternoon, while wandering aimlessly, he stumbled upon a soccer game being played at the Estádio José Alvalade. The game featured Sporting CP, one of the most successful teams in Portugal, and the energy in the air was palpable.

As he watched the players on the field, a familiar face caught his eye. There, leading the team as captain, was Y/N, a woman with long, flowing hair and legs that seemed to go on forever. The way she moved with grace and power, the way she shouted instructions to her teammates, it was clear that she was the heart and soul of the team. And to Joe, she was absolutely irresistible.

After the game, Joe mustered up the courage to approach Y/N as she was leaving the field. He introduced himself in his broken Portuguese, complimenting her on her skills and her leadership. To his surprise, she smiled warmly and seemed genuinely flattered. They exchanged numbers, and before he knew it, they were texting each other constantly, meeting up for dinner and attending local events together.

The more time they spent together, the more Joe became infatuated with her. Not just her beauty or her skill on the field, but also her charisma and her passion for life. He found himself unable to resist her sexy Portuguese accent when she would correct her teammates or shout encouragement to her friends. And when she gave him her jersey as a gift, he felt a thrill run through him that he hadn't experienced in years.

One evening, as they were enjoying dinner at his newly purchased home in Lisbon, Joe couldn't help but ask Y/N if she'd ever like to cook for him. She hesitated for a moment, but then smiled shyly and agreed. The next day, she arrived at his house carrying a basket of fresh ingredients and a mischievous glint in her eye. As she prepared a traditional Portuguese dish for him, Joe couldn't help but wonder what else she might have in store.

When she finally presented him with the meal, Y/N stepped back and revealed that she was wearing a stunning, all-white dress that showed off her perfect figure, including her toned legs and her perky breasts. The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She wanted him. And tonight, she was going to make him feel wanted too.

As they sat down at the table, Joe couldn't help but wonder if this was all some kind of dream. Y/N was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and the way she moved around the kitchen, serving him her delicious dinner, was enough to drive any man wild. They ate in silence at first, lost in their own thoughts, but eventually, they couldn't help but begin to talk. They talked about their lives, their families, their passions. And as they did, Joe felt a deep connection forming between them.

When dinner was finished, Y/N cleared the table and asked if he'd like some dessert. He nodded eagerly, his heart already racing with anticipation. She returned a moment later with a small platter bearing a decadent chocolate torte and two forks. As they sat down on the couch, she placed the platter between them and leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear. "This is my favorite dessert," she whispered. "I hope you like it."

Joe could feel the heat from her body as she sat so close to him, and the sweet aroma of the chocolate made his mouth water. He watched as she picked up her fork, the silverware clinking softly against each other, and took a small bite. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she chewed, and he found himself unable to look away.

When she finally offered him a bite, he took it greedily, their fingers brushing against each other as he brought the fork to his mouth. The chocolate melted on his tongue, releasing a rush of rich flavors that left him speechless. They ate in silence for a moment, savoring the sweetness and the intimacy of the moment.

"It's delicious," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really are an amazing cook." She smiled at him again, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Thank you for enjoying it," she replied softly, her accent sending shivers down his spine.

The air between them felt charged with desire, and Joe knew that he couldn't resist her any longer. He reached out and took her hand in his, their fingers entwining as he leaned in to kiss her. She responded eagerly, her lips parting beneath his, and he felt the familiar heat of her breath as she moaned softly against his mouth. Their tongues danced together, a slow and sensual waltz that left him breathless.

As their kiss deepened, Y/N shifted in his lap, her body pressing against his. He could feel the softness of her breast against his chest, the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. His hands moved up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones as he explored the contours of her jawline. She arched her back slightly, grinding her hips against him, and he knew that she wanted more.

He broke the kiss, needing air for a moment as he gazed into her eyes. They were bright with desire, and he could see the passion burning deep within her. "Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Tell me what you need." She smiled at him, her lips curving into a wicked little smile. "I need you," she breathed, her fingers trailing down his chest, "to make love to me."

The words sent a shiver through him, and he leaned in to kiss her again, more roughly this time. His hands moved down her body, unbuttoning her dress and revealing her perfect skin beneath. She moaned as he explored her curves, and he felt her hands fumbling with his belt, unbuckling it and lowering his pants. He stood up, kicking off his shoes, and she climbed up onto her knees, straddling him.

The feel of her warm, wet folds against his erection sent a wave of desire coursing through him. He grasped her hips, pulling her down so that he could feel the full weight of her body on him. She arched her back, her breasts spilling free from her dress, and he reached up to cup one in his hand, rolling the hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger. She cried out, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and he could feel her body trembling beneath him.

He thrust upward, feeling the hot, tight grip of her body as she enveloped him, and the sensation was almost too much to bear. He could feel himself on the edge, ready to release, but he wanted this to last. He slowed his movements, taking his time, savoring the feel of her body moving against his. She looked down at him, her eyes half-closed, and smiled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh, Joe," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of their passionate lovemaking. "You feel so good."

He smiled back at her, feeling a sense of connection that went beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. He wanted this night to last forever, but as the tension built within him, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he lost control. With one final thrust, he felt the release wash over him, his body tensing as he emptied himself into her. She cried out his name, her body tensing around him in a wave of ecstasy, and as they came together in their shared climax, he knew that he had found something truly special.

They lay there for a moment, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. She leaned forward, her head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this content, this at peace.

As their hearts slowed and their bodies cooled, they heard the faint sound of laughter from the living room. The party was still going strong, but for a moment, it seemed as if the world outside didn't exist. It was just the two of them, lost in each other's embrace. She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes filled with love and affection. "Thank you for the most wonderful evening," she whispered.

He smiled down at her, a lopsided grin that spoke of the happiness he felt. "You're welcome," he replied. "But really, I should be thanking you." She laughed softly, her breath tickling his skin. "Why is that?" she asked, her voice teasing. "Because you made me the happiest man alive tonight." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of truth. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his once more, a gentle kiss that sealed their connection for the night.

As the minutes ticked by, they lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow of their passion. Joe couldn't help but wonder where this night would lead them, but for now, he was content to enjoy the moment and the incredible woman who had shared it with him.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at her. Her skin glowed in the soft light from the fireplace, and her hair spilled across the pillow like a waterfall of black silk. He traced his fingers along the curve of her jaw, feeling the gentle stubble against his skin. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and she blushed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

She reached up, entwining her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thank you," she said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's... it's a little overwhelming." He smiled, feeling the warmth of her palm against his. "Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to explore this with you, get to know you better."

Her eyes met his, and in them he saw a mix of hope and uncertainty. "You're serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't just want this one night?" He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life," he whispered against her mouth. "I want to see where this goes. I want to see where you go."

She smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up her entire face. "Then I think," she said, taking his hand and leading it lower, "we should go to bed." Together they climbed beneath the covers, their bodies tangled and entwined. As they lay there, she traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, as if committing every detail to memory. "I feel like I've known you for a lifetime," she murmured. "And yet, I also feel like there's so much more to learn."

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. "I feel the same way," he confessed. "But I promise you, tonight was just the beginning. I'm not going anywhere." She sighed contentedly, her body relaxing against his. "Good," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Because I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a ride." And as they drifted off to sleep, he knew she was right. This was just the beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where the journey would take them.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #nfl #nfl football #nfl imagine #joe burrow x reader #explore #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow smut #football #like #smut #foryou

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perfectsunlight · 7 months

Text

𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢 — 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰ yeji is the star of the football team and EVERYONE knows that. this girl is hands down the cornerstone of the team

✰ but everyone also knows you're dating THE hwang yeji as well ;)

✰ before you met her, you alr knew of her reputation. yeji was js like the rest of the football team; a major asshole

✰ she wasn't as bad as her teammates, but she was def the one with the loudest mouth tbh

✰ hell she even argued with her COACHES at some points. this girl js does not like it when things don't go her way

✰ the first time you met was bc she parked in your spot by accident. she wasn't gonna move her car until she saw you walking up to confront her abt it tho...

✰ you pointed a finger in her face, an angry pout on your lips as you explained to her how you were late to your classes bc of her

✰ however...she wasn't listening to a thing you were saying tbh LOL

✰ you were just so goddamn pretty, even when you were yelling at her in the middle of the school parking lot

✰ needless to say she went from asshole yeji to lovesick yeji

✰ immediately apologized and moved right that second, but not before leaving her number on ur windshield ;)

✰ "i'm sorry again. let me make it up to you this weekend at dinner? xxx-xxx-xxxx :)"

when you're at school:

✰ yk how there's those yearbook superlatives with "best dressed", "best eyes", "best laugh", etc? you two take the cake for best couple

✰ you two don't show massive pda during school hours. the most you two do is hold hands or you holding onto yeji's bicep

✰ whenever you're getting out of class, she's waiting for you to walk you to your next one

✰ she's just a big sweetheart who doesn't care if she's late to her own class for walking you across campus to yours LMAO

✰ you and yeji sit in your separate groups of friends during lunch, but you two alw sneak glances at each other from across the courtyard

✰ getting a text immediately after yeji catches you staring that says "meet me in the bathroom" ;)

✰ she alw insists on a quick makeout session just before the bell rings so she can have you all to herself, even js for 5 mins

✰ oh and good luck if you have a class with her 💀 she's gonna be passing you notes from across the aisle, throwing things at you, winking at you, etc.

✰ she's the best distraction tho so you can't complain too much, esp since she's just so pretty

✰ sometimes yeji is in a bad mood bc of a bad game or practice, and she really js needs some space

✰ but she will never and i mean NEVER turn down an offer to hang out with you instead of sulking in her bedroom

✰ your go-to is alw a nice walk in the park. yeji likes being in nature, and being with you just adds more comfort to the mix

✰ she gets REALLY clingy whenever she's all sulky its literally so cute :c

✰ like im talking hugging you from behind, whining and swinging your hands together when you walk, and ALWAYS kissing your cheek

✰ she js needs you as physically close to her as possible!! you're her baby after all

✰ and if it's YOU who has had a bad day or smth? be prepared for the biggest pampering

✰ flowers, driving you around at night in her porsche, taking you out shopping

✰ hell she'll spoil you ROTTEN. she js hates seeing you so sad and down so she will do everything in her power to turn ur frown upside down

if you're also an athlete:

✰ you two are alw supporting each other at games. yeji is def sporting your jersey/number

✰ you're each other's good luck charms <3 and best believe yeji cannot go out on the field without a good luck kiss from you !

✰ now if you couldn't make it to her game because you had one of your own, then she'd def call you before she leaves the locker room. talking to you is a MUST, esp bc the poor girl gets rlly nervous before big games :(

✰ this girl LOVES to compete with you. it's alw a competition whenever the two of you train together, esp bc neither of you like to lose

✰ she could make a competition out of racing from the field to her porsche smh

✰ don't be mistaken tho, she LOVES training with you. it gives her an excuse to work harder so she won't embarrass herself lmao

if you're not an athlete:

✰ oh you're never not wearing this girl's letterman jacket. she refuses to see you around school without it 💀

✰ now this is a BIG move bc before you, yeji NEVER and i mean NEVER took that thing off. it was her pride and joy, and she loved sporting it around like the walking trophy she was

✰ but then she started dating you, and that changed instantly. at first she let you wear it one night bc she didn't want you to be cold after meeting up with her after a late night practice

✰ you were abt to give it back to her after you were done hanging out, but she js smiled and shook her head, telling you she wanted you to keep it :)

✰ you like going to the top floors of the library bc they overlook the football field, and when yeji is practicing you can work on hw while watching ur gf tehe

#yeji #hwang yeji #itzy #yeji x reader #itzy x reader #itzy headcanons #yeji headcanons #kpop #kpop headcanons #au #perfectsunlight

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cjrights · 17 days

Note

Ight so somehow people wanted more of these? Y’all asked and tbh I’m still obsessed so here we gooooooooooooooooo. Sidenote mostly just fluff, but def some angst on the third one. Read at your own risk pls and thx. Hope you enjoy!

Paige Bueckers x Softball player reader hcs! (Part 2)

Consistently takes advantage of whenever you get dressed.

Luckily for Paige softball players needed to layer a lot, meaning it took a very long time to get dressed. Tall socks first, then sliding shorts, then undershirt or jersey depending on weather, then pants, and finally a belt. Needless to say, it took a good few minutes and your clingy blonde girlfriend positively loved it.

Today started like most game days, waking up with all four of Paige’s limbs wrapped around you, her whining at you for trying to get up without waking her (something about needing her morning kisses), and then eating breakfast together at the table.

Now you were sitting on the edge of your bed, clad in just a sports bra and sliding shorts, pulling on your socks, thankful you were about to be done with the long process. Until Paige decided to interfere.

“Babbbbbe,” she called as she walked in, blue eyes lighting up immediately when she spotted you half undressed.

“Don’t give me that look. You know I’ll be late.”

Blatantly ignoring you she all but leapt on top of you, crushing your figure down in the most gently powerful way someone who was 6’ could’ve. You groan and immediately go flat on your back. Your girlfriend seemed to forget she was basically six feet of muscle and seven inches taller than you.

“Paige!” You yelp irritated, looking down at your girlfriend. Who was now cuddled up against your bare skin, pressing into you as tight as humanely possible. “I’ve got to get dressed, coach will kill me if I’m late! You know I have to warm up the pitchers!”

“Well first warm me up! I’ve been freezing all morning and instead of cuddling with me, my girlfriend has been neglecting me!” she whines, burying her face into your boobs, tightening her hold.

You roll your eyes, “you sure we’re not just in a relationship because you love my boobs?”

“That’s part of the reason…but back to the point! I’ve been neglected so let me snuggle you!” she demands, pressing you back down as you try to pry her off.

You scoff lightly, “yeah right because us showering together last night, spooning all night after that, and then eating breakfast together this morning is real neglectful, isn’t it?” You question sarcastically, biting back the urge to smile as she looks up at you with puppy dog eyes for a moment, then nuzzling back into your boobs in an effort to make you forget about it. “No Paigey, its time for me to get ready.”

“But I never got my good morning kisses. Just some stupid alarm.”

You blink slowly. Shit, you had forgotten her morning kisses. Each morning you woke her up with a flurry of soft kisses on her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Anywhere but her lips, that was only for when she was fully awake. “I’m sorry love,” you murmur, pressing kisses around her forehead, seeing a smile flutter on her lips, as she closes her eyes, falling into ‘sleep’. You moved onto her cheeks, this time fully feeling the smile on her face. finally her nose, which scrunched up slightly and she finally opened her ice blue eyes, pressing her lips to yours which you eagerly accepted.

“Good mornin,” she mumbles, suddenly much peppier. “How’d you sleep?”

You smack her lightly on the back of the head. “Oh, shut it Bueckers.” Fully nudging her off you pull your jersey over your head, not missing her pout once your boobs went away. “Simmer down woman, you can cuddle them later,” you roll your eyes.

“You know if doing this every time you have a game works, I’m going to keep doing it. rig up that alarm to go off a few minutes before you wake up, so that way you have to rush and can’t give me kisses till now, definitely worth being a few minutes late.”

“Paige!”

She’ll pretend like she knows what she’s doing- she doesn’t and your coach forces you to educate her.

Paige growls slightly under her breath seeing you come up to bat again. It was a game against Florida State University. Not that the other team was the problem- no it was the umpire. In her eyes he was giving you a hard time, you and your teammates. Quite honestly he wasn’t just had a larger strike zone than usual. There had been a few calls that had been at your knees and should’ve been balls that weren’t. Not the worst call you’d seen made but definitely not an amazing one.

It was the bottom of the forth inning and your third time at the plate. Uconn was up by two runs and you’d been up twice, only go out on a dicy, but definitely a strike pitch that you’d had no choice but to swing at. Now you went up again and did the same thing, going out swinging on a 1-2 count.

And that had been enough to set off your girlfriend. She tried to keep her cool, she really had. Tried listening to the massive group of softball dads who’d somehow befriended her after two games into the season, tried the deep breathing exercises, tried to reassure herself you wouldn’t be upset. But nope.

“That was a bullshit call blue!” you almost do a double take at hearing the voice that no doubt belonged to your overprotective girlfriend. What in the hell was she doing?! The ump had made the right call, it just wasn’t apparent to someone who hadn’t played.

“Jesus Christ, has your girlfriend never watched softball?” questions one of your teammates as you head back into the dugout, popping off your batters helmet, and exchanging it for your catchers.

“Look she’s good at basketball I’m good at softball,” you mutter, feeling your cheeks tinge pink as you buckle the straps on your white shin guards.

“Excuses, excuses,” she teases lightly, before going off to talk with someone else in the dugout.

As you pull your chest piece over your head a sudden shadow overtakes you. Looking up you see your coach looking down at you, facial expression mixed with annoyance and amusement. “Uh hey coach, can I help you?” you ask cautiously, not knowing if he was upset with your last at bat or something, and feeling nervousness grow as you tested the waters.

“look I aint mad at you. What I am mad at is how your girlfriend talks about all this shit she thinks she knows. She doesn’t play softball and quite honestly it makes some of us look bad. Get it under control.” He finishes.

“yes coach,” you mumble, knowing paige would insist she didn’t need help and make this whole thing ten times more difficult.

He smiles and slaps you on the back, “that’s a girl! Now, go out there and make sure nothing gets by you.”

“So why are we driving to some random park?” paige questions, for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, not taking her eyes off the road.

You sigh, “I told you before, we’re going to watch some softball and teach you some of the basics.”

“But I know the basics! And I know that ump wasn’t calling strikes well!” she pouts slightly.

Rolling your eye at her delusion you pat her thigh lightly. “no baby, no you don’t. Now come on!” you state hopping out of the car once she’d pulled into a spot. You’d been lucky to know about the local youth ballpark. They hosted plenty of rec league tournaments for baseball and softball alike, perfect for when you had to teach your girlfriend.

“A youth park?” she questions, slightly mystified.

“Yup. You want to learn softball? You start from the littlest level. Which in this case is our ten U team!”

You gesture at all of the girls, each one dressed in black pants a bright pink jersey sporting a panthers logo on it. they were quite cute to watch, all of them throwing grounders and pop-flys to their partners, then giglging madly when it went between their legs.

Paige felt herself smile as well, “well at least their kind of cute…” she mumbles, letting you lead her over to a set of metal bleachers, where you watch the girls warmup and explain some basics to her.

“So first, strike range, where is that to you?”

“Erm I don’t know, maybe here?” she makes a vague gesture at her torso and puts out her arms to show home base borders.

“Not quite,” you tighten her square up, narrowing down the plate significantly, then pushing her zone from her shoulders to her knees.

Her jaw drops. “How the hell can you hit it there?!” she demands.

You shrug, “just the way games work baby, the umpire says the strike zone and we adjust to it. course it varies slightly to each ump, but this is the general zone.”

As you explain realization slowly dawns on her face, eyes widening, “so when I yelled at that ump for his calls…”

You nod sympathetically, “you were yelling at him for something that was my fault.”

“Ah.”

“And now, your going to see it in action. Because these ten year olds somehow know the basics better than my twenty-one year old girlfriend,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Is this really necessary? I mean it wasn’t that bad…”

“Yes Paigey, it was that bad. Now let the little ones show you how to do it.”

She grumbles softly but watches none the less. Thankfully, she seemed to learn rather quickly. Not that it was hard, in tenU most pitches either went right down the middle, straight in the dirt, or right over the catchers head. “Well obviously its easier to tell now when the pitchings this bad.” She huffs grumpily, failing to realize the pitcher was walking directly in front of her, and heard the comment.

“My pitchings bad?” whimpered the little girl, seeming close to tears.

Paige’s eyes widened and she shakes her head rapidly. “What! No no! your doing great im just used to seeing it at a higher level and I just I-“ she goes on rambling, as the girl tears up even harder before bolting away from the crowd. “Wait hold on- hold this for me!” she shoves something into your arms then proceeds to take off across the ball ground at full pelt after the little girl.

As you sit, you see the parents giving you a dirty look, and slowly want to crawl inside your skin and never see the light of day again. It felt like hours you’d been sitting there when Paige finally returned, surprisingly with the pitcher, who was holding a bomb pop and chatting it up with your girlfriend. Happily, she scrambled back to her mom, as your frazzled girlfriend returned to your side, burying her face into your shoulder.

You giggle, “what happened to my big tough girlfriend?”

“She made a kid feel bad and didn’t know what else to do besides buy her the biggest popsicle at the concession stand and swear up and down she didn’t mean what she meant,” she mumbled into your shoulder, looking red as a beet, as the little girl talked to her mom and sucked at her slightly dripping bomb pop. “And offering to get her lots of autographs, hope your teammates don’t mind signing a ball.”

You roll your eyes, as idiotic as she was your girlfriend was quite sweet.

“If we ever have kids, please help me not be an idiot.”

“You got it Paigey, you got it.”

Post game routine after a loss.

You walk into the apartment all but chucking your coat down onto the floor and forcefully ripping your keys of your neck. Uconn had been defeated in a 9-7 loss against North Carolina State. You hadn’t played bad either; hell you’d an amazing game. Only one ball managed to get through you and you’d been quick enough to nab it before the runner of third seized her chance to advance. You hadn’t had a bad day at the plate either going 3-1, you’d gotten a dead ball to the back the first time, which now hurt like a motherfucker and didn’t let you lean against anything without hissing. Second time around you’d buried a base hit into right field, making it to first without problem. Easily after you’d stolen second and then third, where your teammate managed to snag a double and bring you in for the third run of the game. The last at bat had been similar, except instead of a grounder it was a line drive that smashed into the pitcher so hard she dropped it, giving you just enough time to bolt into first base, nearly taking out the baseman as you did so.

So you had done well. Why were you so pissy about the game? Probably because your teammates just gave up. You didn’t know what the hell had gotten into them in the dugout, you got down by one run and all of a sudden it was like a giant raincloud was over the dugout. They didn’t get back up either, they lost the battle the second NC State was. It had been horrendous, and when you went out to take the field you knew everyone could tell. Obviously, you couldn’t carry the entire team on your shoulders (although you certainly had tried). And so you lost.

“Babe?” Paige called cautiously. She hadn’t been able to go the game, NC was a long driver and she’d had exams that week. She’d watched the entire game on tv and knew that after a game like that and more than twelve hours on a bus, you’d either be sobbing or ready to kill anything that moved or both when you walked in the door.

Paige appeared around the corner, blonde hair pulled into a loose pony tail, clad in Uconn sweats and her matching sweatshirt.

When you saw her you felt all of your anger start melting off, slowly turning into a giant pool of stress and sadness that seemed to weigh down your entire body. “Hey,” you rasped, exhaustion hitting like a brick.

Crossing the room in a few short strides, her arms were around you, pulling you against her chest and nose nuzzling against my hair. “You did so good baby, even if you lost. You were so amazing, I mean those blocks and the base running,” she mumbles softly.

You don’t reply for a moment, just grip her sweatshirt and sniffle into it.

“I know baby, I know it hurts, let it out.”

Finally your walls crash down on top of you, and Paige feels the first tears wetting the fabric. “I don’t understand it. I don’t know why they all just stopped caring,” you whimper confusedly. “We came to play at Uconn because we loved softball and wanted to win. But then they all just give up and look at me like I’m supposed to be some superhero who can save them all! And I can’t!” you fully break into sobs at this point, feeling every ounce of pent of feelings come crashing straight into the hoodie.

“I know sweet girl, I know,” Paige mumbles, pressing kisses to the top of your head, swaying slightly back in forth in a soothing rhythm. “You do so much for all of them.” truthfully she knew exactly where you were coming from, it was a feeling any sports team would meet regardless of how good or bad they were. “I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you,” she murmurs soothingly, not letting go of you as you clutch her sweatshirt like it’s a damn lifeline.

By the time your done crying, your eyes have puffed out and Paiges are reddened from crying right along with you. She hated seeing you like this, and honestly it reminded her of herself during basketball, on how badly she would take the fault for the error of the team. Your eye black had been ruined, tear tracks dripping through the cross shaped marks on each cheek. And your game hair was mess. Instead of two neat Dutch braids it had turned into a tangled rats nest both from playing softball and then tugging at it out of stresson the bus ride home, an old habit from when you were a child that you were certain you’d never break. “How about a shower yeah?” Paige suggests gently, “get cleaned up and get some food before bed, yeah?” she questions soflty. You had all the control in the situation right now, she would do anything to ease your feelings.

“Y-yeah a shower sounds good.” You agree, inwardly cringing at the way you stutter. You were a captain, you were supposed to be the strong and brave one of the team, the catcher everyone could always count on, not some cowardly girl who stuttered and balwed her eyes out after a loss.

Paige helped you get undressed and into the shower, turning it on to almost scalding hot, the way you liked it. Gently she began working the shampoo into your hair.

“Sorry about that…” you mumble under your breath. “Its been a long day I guess,” a lame excuse but whatever.

“Hey, no, no, no, no, no, no.” she states, putting more emphasis on each no as she goes. Lightly she grabs your chin tilting it up to look at her. “Baby, I know you hold yourself to a high standard but you are a human being, not a superhero. Quite frankly, your teammates are dicks if they can’t recognize the problem.”

You open your mouth to say something but she doesn’t let you get a word out.

“And before you start some big speech about how its not my problem and how I don’t need to do this I want to. So shush up and let me take care of you.”

You smile, a good real smile for the first time in the last two hours. “I love you Paigey, so much.”

“I love you too.”

The water sprays down your back, Paige’s hand blocking whatever shampoo suds threatened to get into your eyes. She grabs you both a towel, stepping out first and quickly wrapping you up. Then, not giving you a chance to protest, your scooped up bridal style and carried to your bed. She flops down next to you, smiling as you nuzzle into her.

“So, my girl feeling a little bit better?” Paige asks, pressing a kiss against your damp collar bone. She’d helped you change into pajamas, just one of her old hoodies then carefully detangled your hair, which had been a little messed up from its braids. Needless to say, a bit of one on one time and pampering had definitely helped.

You pressed closer to her, burying her face into her chest before mumbling a reply. “I’m always ok with you by my side.”

-This is sea otter anon, i just can't get to my emoji cause I'm on a laptop, but i swear im still sea otter (pls don't take me emoji i love it)

WOWWW you just get it every time babeee

this is beautiful i need more if you got it in you 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

#🦦 anon #i love my anons #ask #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers hc #paige bueckers fluff

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spikingtheodds-if · 10 months

Text

Time seemed to slow down as your muscles coiled, every fiber of your being honed in on that one moment. As the ball reached its apex, you launched yourself into the air, a burst of controlled power. Your arm swung back, and with a thunderous crack, your hand connected with the ball. You could almost hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd. The ball rocketed downward, a streak of white lightning aimed unerringly for the opposing court. The ball hit the floor with a triumphant thud, a resounding echo of victory. In that fleeting instant, you felt invincible. And you were.

Is there a better match than you and volleyball?

You, arguably the most promising spiker of your generation, led your highschool team to victory by winning against your ex-bestfriend slash rival, Nikita.

You couldn't believe you won a volleyball scholarship for the university of your dreams; and maybe you were right not to. An anonymous source convinced the university that you partook in doping and steroid use, which led them to drop you.

With no options left due to the allegations, you decided to accept a scholarship to a minor university with an unknown and lacking volleyball club, the Boarwood Titans. What's worse is that you are now forced to become a battery with your childhood rival, Nikita being the setter and you the spiker.

Can you work together with your rival to lead your team to the victor? Or will hate prevail? And will you find out who really spread the rumors against you?

A fully customisable main character, including gender, pronouns, personality, looks, jersey number, playing style, and many more!

Choices that impact the story throughout, including your team's ranking and dynamic, your reputation as a spiker, your grades, your fame, and more.

Choose between 7 romance options - figure out the love/hate relationship with your rival, fall in love with your childhood best -friend, fall back in love with your ex, the coach's child, a dedicated supporter, a mysterious med student, and the team's ex-spiker whose place you took.

Solve a mystery: who is the anonymous source hellbent on ruining your dreams?

Content suitable for 18+ readers, such as sexual themes, substance (steroids, drugs and alcohol) use, explicit language and themes, and violence.

Nikita Raymond [RO, F/M/NB]: Once your training buddy and now your rival, you wonder if the infamous "Tiger" is the one behind the allegations.There is no place for love between you two. They hate you as much as you hate them; but you'll have to to put that aside if you want to win. Can you?

Klaus/Klara Padel [RO, F/M/NB]: A stern and strict figure in your team, they're especially wary of you ever since you took their spot as a spiker. They've since made it their personal goal to make your stay at the university a living hell. They want to get their spot back, and they've got the motivation. Part of them hopes you'll be able to impress them and show them you deserve their spot, but until then, you'll have to suffer.

Jeremiah/Jerilynn Blake [RO, FtM/MtF]: The team's sweetheart, they're loved by everybody, and for a good reason. Always sporting a smile on their face and snacks in their hand, they quickly become one of your closest friends at Boarwood University.

Bree [RO, F/M/NB]: Your best-friend and setter in your previous team. They quit volleyball but still enrolled at Boarwood to be with you. A constant in your life since you were little, you'll find that Nikita's presence will create tension between you two. What's really going on between them?

Andrea Michelle [RO, F/M/NB]: Despite being the Boarwood Titans' most dedicated supporter, their stoic and hot-and-cold behaviour confuses you. They take an interest in you, only to ignore you for days. What's really up with this mysterious med student?

Angelina/Angelo Shasco [RO, F/M/NB]: Your charming ex. Things get messy when you find out your least favourite ex is at Boarwood, and they seem dedicated to not making you forget the past you had, and not in a positive way. Oh boy, spotting them at one of your games might cause either the win of the century or your life's biggest blunder.

Meet a wide cast of characters, including your classmates, teammates, opponents, and more!

-monaco & clessidra <3

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #if #interact-if #interactive game #choice of games #cog game #if wip #cog #dashingdon #interactive fiction wip #hosted game #volleyball #interactive story

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davenporttf · 10 months

Text

Red Zone

There's nothing more I love than admiring the beauty of jocks playing at their best. I fell into sport photography in college with a photography class and tried taking photos of the football team. I've always enjoyed spectating these ripped guys showcasing their power and speed. It wasn't a gay thing. I admired the strength and skill these players have. Putting it on film was my way of sharing my love of sports through my eyes.

After a few years in the sports photography business, I finally have the respect of the local teams. One apparently put in a good word for me because I got a call to film some of the nearby rugby team play. A chance to capture up close to arguably the most brutish men in sports was an honor and I was so excited.

I arrived the first day at the stadium to discover the men all gathered in the locker room. They were changing for the game and I couldn't help but notice these muscle bears' physiques. The way they filled out their shirts with both muscle and fat was unlike any other sports player. Needless to say their bums were thick as well as their juicy thighs supporting them.

I introduced myself to some of the players and let them know I'd be taking pictures of them playing. You couldn't find more lovable blokes. They were clearly meat heads who lived and breathed Rugby.

"Cheers, mate. Happy to have yah." said Marcus, the captain. "Coach told us you'd be here. Come to think of it, we have an extra jersey here. Try it on. You'll look like one of us."

I was hesitant at first but ultimately took it as a nice gesture. I took my collared shirt off and then slid on the red uniform.

"A bit small to be on our scrum, but it looks good on yah." The shirt had a tingly feeling to it, and I felt a surge of energy flowing through me. "Thanks a lot! Looking forward to getting some good shots."

"Make sure to get our good side," Marcus said with a wink. He looked away "Alright you bunch of idiots, let's get out there!"

I followed the team out to the field never feeling better, and was running on a high as if I had several redbulls or preworkout.

The game began and I started focusing in on Marcus. He had the ball and started sprinting forward. I zoomed in and took a shot of him sprinting. I looked at the preview, and it was a great action shot.

I was trying to focus on the game but my legs were overcome by a warming sensation. I felt my thighs and calves swell. They were filling with muscle as hard as rocks and pushed my khakis to the max. I kept focus on the game but the warmth was slowly moving up my body.

I next shot was of the captain being knocked down by the flanker on the opposing team. The perfect shot of the flanker holding the captain in mid air. It was then that the warmth moved up to my glutes. My ass inflated until the khakis began tearing. The khakis ripped until they fell off my legs, revealing a pair of red rugby shorts underneath. I felt a breeze flow through my leg hairs as they grew longer and bushier. My socks changing to red knee socks and black cleats.

There was a turnover of the ball on the field as a Center from the opposing team gained control. The player pivoted and passed the ball to one of their runners. I snapped a photo of the Center's pass and felt the warmth spread across to my dick and started feeling crazy horny. It was growing and pushing a tent in my rugby shorts until it was a girthy 10 inches. I was noticing how great the teams' legs looked in those shorts. I could feel my sexual desires becoming more open. I wanted to appreciate these players by giving them the best night of their lives.

I winced as my back cracked, my spine lengthened and my height increased several inches. My relatively flat chest became chiseled like it was being sculpted in real time. I felt the fat sucked from my abs as they went from tender to firm. My pecs becoming beefy pillows from what looked like years of lifting.

The opposing team made it to the other side and scored. I zoomed in on Marcus and he was looking my way. I had an odd feeling but felt compelled to snap a photo of him. He was smiling with a smirk on his face. I felt the warmth finally move up to my head. My thoughts of shooting the game drifted away as my jaw line cracked into a more square shape. My facial features becoming more symmetrical and rugged. I felt my beard grow in fuller and my hair bleaching to a sun kissed blonde. I dropped my camera and stared blankly until the ref called for the halftime break.

Marcus jogged over and studied me up and down. "You've been wasting away behind that camera. We're down by 3 and I think you'll be of better use helping the team make a comeback."

He walked up to me and brought his lips to mine. There was a surge of memories filling my mind. Flashbacks of playing for the team for years. Years of practice drills, sweaty guys tackling me to the ground. Most of all, my relationship with the guy who made me fall in love with rugby in the first place, Marcus.

"Anything for you, babe."

#gay tf #jock #mental change #straight to gay #male transformation #rugby #gay jock #jock bulge

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Note

hi lovely! since you don’t want more percy requests and want some variety, what about headcanons for jason and a burnt out reader (like overworks herself to the point of almost breaking down) maybe a daughter of nike would fit?

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ The Golden Boy And His Bronze Girl

content: jason grace x daughter of nike! reader fic warning: ig minor angst??, crying and emotional stuff but don't worry captain fluff is to the rescue by the end author's note: look, look, i know you said hcs BUT it was such a good prompt that i couldn't help but make it a full fic and also that title came to me in a fever dream and i don't give hcs or blurbs titles so i just had to make it a full fic. also thank you for breaking the percy cycle youre so real for that. also, also, this healed something inside me, so thank you

a three page paper due by friday. ten precalc problems, each taking a whole page to do. spanish and econ quiz, same day next thursday. chemistry lab and lab report. softball tryouts on saturday and immediately after is basketball practice, coach wants to win states this year. and that was all just in one week. the poor daughter of nike was on the verge of a breakdown, she felt like she was falling apart- no, being ripped into shreds. every paper that came back with even a single point off filled her with an insurmountable dread before she shoved it to the bottom of her backpack, never to see the light of day again. More and more papers started coming back like that, each one another hour she stayed up crying while trying to also hyper analyze jane austen for her english class. all she really wanted was to burn all her texts books and her laptop and every single sports jersey and curl up with jason on the couch. and coffee. she really, really wanted coffee.

but she could not get it, as she locked herself in the school library to hopefully get some of this stuff done. she just- she lacked the time. it's not like she wasn't trying, gods know she was doing everything in her power to do it all. but there weren't enough hours in a day. like, ever. around the time her vision started getting blurry as she stared at her chemisty study guide for her test the next day and probably an hour after her headphones died is when she saw heaven. well, the closest thing to heaven she could find on earth. jason grace, her darling boyfriend, walking up shyly with a iced coffee.

"there's my girl. didn't think you'd still be here," jason hummed as he approached, pressing a kiss to her cheek while passing off the coffee. then he froze as big, fat tears started to stream down her face.

"oh, what's wrong?? y/n-"

"i can't- i can't do it anymore. you're too good for me. i- i-" the girl sputtered, the words just coming out of her mouth, unable to think anymore. she's spent too much time thinking today so instead she let her emotions take over, curling into a ball of mushy tears.

"hey, hey," jason cooed, instantly, reaching out and setting a hand on her thigh and running the other through her hair. "talk to me. what's going through that pretty head of yours?"

"it's too much, all of it. i can't keep up, i'm falling behind, jason. the daughter of victory is failing and- and-" y/n all but gasped out, finding small comfort in jason's hands. he just nodded along, a frown on his lips and a twinge of pain in his face. this just made the girl cry harder, feeling like she was spreading her misfortune onto him.

"it doesn't have to be perfect all the time, you know. you're doing the best you can and that's what's important. i'd call that a win," reasoned jason but the girl just shook her head, curling more in on herself.

"if...if i can't be good, if i can't win, then what...what am i? what's the point of me?" she whispered, her eyes widening at this realization and tears steadily rolling down her face.

"you're still you. you're my darling girlfriend. you're the hardest working person i've ever met. you're fun and the light of my life. that's what you are," jason stated, firmly and instantaneously, unwilling to listen to any arguement. the looked up through her fingers and messy hair, meeting his blue eyes and soft smile.

"there you go," he whispered, gently pushing her hands away and replacing them with his own.

"i'm a mess," the girl replied with a puff of laughter, jason nodding his head with a smile.

"yes, yes, you are. but, you're my mess. my beautiful, mess," he added, winking before pressing a kiss to her forehead, the girl doing something close to a giggle but not quite.

"thank you...for all of this," the daughter of nike breathed out after a moment, slowly finding her smile again.

"but most importantly the coffee, right?"

"obviously."

"of course," jason bit back, shaking his head fondly at her before turning back to her stack of text books and promptly slamming them shut.

"hey! i need to finish that!" the girl instantly argued, reaching out for her book desperately. jason instantly pulled the book back, holding it far out of her reach.

"nope! not happening. not today, at least. we're gonna close all these books, put them in your backpack and zip it shut until the morning. then we're gonna go back to my place and you can put those squishy things on both of our faces," ordered jason, working on closing all of her books and packing her up.

"the face masks?" the girl giggled, unable to stop them no matter how much she wanted to.

"yeah, those. c'mon, i'll even let you pick the movie," jason tacked on, offering her a dazzling smile as he zipped up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"you know, one of those papers are due today," y/n subtly tried to argue as she stood up, wiping her face of any tears and latching onto jason's arm.

"looks like your turning it in late. it won't kill you."

"you suck."

"and you'll be thanking me later. did i mention i have ice cream at my house?" jason pretended to think, still trying to win the girl over even though they were steadily walking towards his house.

"no, you did not."

"well...i've got ice cream at my house," he joked, the girl laughing loudly as she clung to him.

"you're so stupid, golden boy."

"maybe, but it made you laugh, bronze girl. that's kinda all that matters to me," jason admitted, looking down at her with the definition of heart eyes and being met with the same look.

"you're such a softie."

"just for you, my love."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #jason grace x reader #jason grace

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cjsoleil · 3 months

Text

Fallen Like Stars and Raindrops (Seungmin x Reader)

Summary: Seungmin is the baseball star at their university and his girlfriend loves him more than anything, even though she doesn’t like the sport.

Warnings: Smut

Authors note: So I wrote this just because there are a lot of works that perceive Seungmin as more mean, which is fine, but I wanted to write him being soft and sweet with a lot of fluff. Enjoy.

Baseball is one of the most boring sports in the world. Well, for Y/N, all sports are boring, but especially baseball. When she tells people this, they always ask the same question.

“How could you say that?”

Their shock is understandable, she is dating the star baseball player at their university. Y/N responds with,

“Watching baseball is boring. Watching Seungmin play baseball is not. It’s an entirely different thing.” It doesn’t make much sense, but watching Seungmin play baseball is really just watching him do something he loves. If Seungmin loved to watch paint dry, Y/N would be right beside him, enjoying herself as the glisten of the walls disappeared.

Despite not loving the sport, Y/N loves going to all of Seungmin’s games. Loves how happy he is, loves the way he looks for his girl in the crowd, clad in his old jersey that is too big for her with his number 07 on the back. Seungmin grins at her and she rolls her eyes with a smile. Seungmin always looks for her after a good pitch or when he returns to home base. Like a dog looking to his owner for praise. Y/N holds up her camera, taking a picture before blowing a kiss and waving him off.

At the end of the game and after Seungmin finishes changing, he runs back out to meet up with Y/N. He will either hug her quickly, since neither of them love public affection, and tell her that he and the team are going out to celebrate their win. He’ll invite her to come and maybe she will, depending on her mood. Or he will choose to ditch the team to hang out with her instead, not that they mind. Today it’s the latter.

“Next time you drive.” Y/N comments from behind the wheel of her car, “You only learn by practicing, baby.” She’s been teaching Seungmin to drive. He hates driving, but she insists it’s a necessary skill. Her hand lays on top of Seungmin’s on the stick shift. It’s for muscle memory she tells him, when they both know she really just wants to hold his hand.

“So you had a good game? I saw you won.” Seungmin nods.

“Yeah.” He shifts in his seat, “I kind of wish it lasted longer.”

“Still full of energy?” He hums in agreement. Seungmin is a person who is very calm, but can be very restless at times. Y/N taps her fingers on the wheel a few times as an idea pops into her head.

“I know a way to help you with that.”

Y/N is not athletic. She does not play sports, she doesn’t like sports. Despite this, she finds herself in this situation a lot.

“Come here, pretty lady.” Seungmin smiles and gestures for his girlfriend to come to him with his hand. When she gets close enough, he wraps his arms around her waist from behind. They’re at an empty park, throwing around a baseball. It was Y/N’s idea, Seungmin loves playing with her. She knows because she asked him a while back,

“Baby, you’re my favourite person to play with.”

“What a sweetheart, but you don’t have to lie.” He smacked the back of her head very lightly.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Y/N will always let Seungmin teach her how to throw or to use a bat for the hundredth time. It makes him happy, never frustrated or even annoyed no matter how many times he needs to show her how to do something.

Seungmin places a firm kiss on her cheek.

“Like this.” He uses his foot to move her legs apart slightly and puts her into a good throwing position, “You’re getting better, but you need more power to your throws.” He holds her hand with the ball and imitates the motion of throwing it multiple times.

“You don’t need to make excuses to get your hands on me Min.” She teases, tilting her head up to look at him. He rolls his eyes and pulls away, rustling Y/N’s hair before putting his baseball hat on her head. When he’s far enough away, she throws the ball the same way a pitcher would, a really bad pitcher, and he catches it easily.

“That was good right?” Y/N asks as she goes up to him and he shrugs.

“Good for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Generally you're pretty bad-“ Y/N dramatically gasps, cutting him off.

“Ouch. Feels like you stabbed me in the heart Kim Seungmin.” He frowns at her bad acting. They stay at the park until a few drops of rain start to fall, “Looks like it might storm.” Y/N comments, looking at the gray clouds in the sky. She’s happy it didn’t start to rain until after Seungmin’s game, he hates it when they’re canceled, “Let’s go home. Don’t want you to smell like a wet dog.” She failed to dodge the baseball he threw at her.

“Abuse.”

“Idiot.”

Y/N taps her fingers on the steering wheel, listening to Seungmin as he starts to sing along softly to the song. It’s heavy downpour coming down, they’re lucky it didn’t start until after his game. Seungmin’s also lucky, since he got out of driving for the day.

“If baseball doesn’t work out, you could always become an idol.” Y/N tells him after a few minutes, making him laugh, “I’m serious Minnie. Beautiful voice with a face to match. Any company would be lucky to have you.”

“Stop it.” He blushes, looking out the window.

“We wouldn’t be able to be together publicly though. At least not until you went solo. I guess the forbidden, secret romance could be fun at first. But I’d miss you too much. I’d probably have to become a manager just so I could follow you around. Maybe a stylist, I’d make you look so cute, not that you don’t already but-” Seungmin listens as she goes on about the fake scenario.

“Maybe in another life.” He tells her, and seeing they stopped at a red light, he lifts her hand and kisses her palm.

“You think we would still be together?”

“We would.” He answers like it’s obvious, “In whatever fictional or hypothetical lives you make up for us, I love you in every one.” He pauses, before continuing, “If I were to be stuck in a world without you in it, I think I would rather not be there at all.”

“For someone who doesn’t believe in fate, you sure talk like you do.”

“You’re my universe, of course I am with you in every one. ”

The girl shakes her head and pats Seungmin’s hand,

“Shut up before I crash the car.”

Their apartment is small, but it’s enough for the two of them. They used to live on residence, but decided to move in together before the start of third year. They each have their own bedrooms, but Seungmin is the one with a bigger bed. His room is less cluttered as well. On his bed, Y/N lays on her back with Seungmin resting between her legs, head on her stomach. She scrolls on her phone with one hand, running the other one through Seungmin’s fluffy black hair.

“Your stomach is loud.” He tells her, and Y/N pulls his hair in response but doesn’t do anything more. He pulls up her, really his jersey, kisses the bare skin of her stomach.

Y/N reached over to place her phone on the bedside table, knowing where this will lead.

“I won my game today.” He kisses her hip bone, biting softly.

“I know, and I’m proud.” Moving up, he faces Y/N and kisses her for a few seconds before pulling back, smiling against her lips.

“Don’t you think I deserve a prize?” He whispers against her lips, eyes fluttering closed.

“Calling me a prize?” She grins, watching as Seungmin blushes, “You know how to charm me, Min.” Laughing softly, she cups his face,

“Whatever you want, baby.”

She can hear Seungmin inhale sharply, and it’s endearing how flustered he still gets with her. Taking off his sweater first, he reveals his lean torso.

“My eyes are up here.” He teases when he sees Y/N’s stare. She grabs the hem of the jersey she’s wearing, but her hands are pulled away before she can take it off,

“Leave it on.”

“Possessive.” Seungmin can’t defend himself because it’s true. He likes having his girl to herself, and he gets a little jealous when he sees her with her teammates at times, even though he will never admit it.

The athlete moves back to his original position, arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist as he kisses and nips along her stomach. When he eventually gets frustrated with the barriers between them, he stands up. In just a few seconds Seungmin is left in only his boxers, Y/N in only a jersey. When he’s back on top of her, he kisses along her neck, leaving a few marks as he moves along. Licking a stripe up her jaw before kissing her lips even after they turn bright red.

“Pretty.” He mumbles, more to himself than to Y/N, “My pretty girl.” Bringing his hands behind her back, he traces the number on the jersey as he has so many times before. It’s long enough to almost reach the girl’s knees, giving a false sense of modesty.

“I love it when you wear my jersey.”

“I like-“ Her breath hitches, feeling Seungmin’s hands wander further down, blunt nails scratching lightly against her lower back, “Like it when you wear them too.” Seungmin smiles as she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, ignoring the fluttering feeling he gets in his stomach from a simple compliment.

Seungmin sits up and moves off of the girl, resting his back against the headboard. Y/N follows him, sitting on his lap with her arms around his neck and his hands find their place on her waist. He can’t see it, but he can feel her dampening his boxers, making him moan and rest his head on the girl’s shoulder.

“Fuck baby.” He groans, and it’s almost funny to hear him swear since he doesn’t do so often. His right hand moves down her waist with a feather-like touch until he reaches the intimate spot between Y/N’s legs.

“Minnie-“

“You’re so hot.” Seungmin interrupts, and Y/N can’t tell if he is referring to the way she looks or the actual heat that’s coming from her skin. Probably both.

He’s gentle as he coats a finger in Y/N’s wetness, as he pushes it inside her hole and swallows every sound she makes. He adds another, scissoring his fingers to stretch her out.

“Seungmin.” She pants out, digging her nails into the man’s shoulders when he just grazed that spot inside her, “Min, love, please I’m-“

“Wait.” He adds another finger. moans when he feels her tightening around them,

“Just wait, baby. Just a second.” His fingers slips out of her and he grabs her hips to lift her up slightly. With Y/N’s aid and some awkward shifting, Seungmin manages to remove his last piece of clothing.

“Lay down.” He tells her, pushing her slightly. Once she’s on her back, Seungmin leans over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, putting it on before he moves back between her legs. With a steady hold on himself, he slowly pushes into Y/N. They moan in unison as he does.

“Tell me when you’re ready, pretty.” After a minute, Y/N taps his back.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Nodding, Seungmin plants his forearms on each side of Y/N’s head and moves his hips slowly.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed as Seungmin starts to build a slow rhythm.

“Love you.” He whispers against her neck, kissing the skin there right after.

“Min, faster?” She asks even though she knows what his answer will probably be.

“No.” He pants softly, mouthing at her jaw before kissing her earlobe, “No just- let me go slow.” He grabs one of her hands, intertwining their fingers he repeats,

“Let’s go slow baby.” Y/N whimpers as he hits that special spot head on, but still smiles softly.

Sometimes Seungmin is the opposite of this, fast and almost desperate with his movements. Or he will act as if he has all the time in the world, going painstakingly slow just to be a tease.

Right now though, it’s him being sentimental. Trying to convey the love he has for his girl with every movement of his hips, touch of his fingers and graze of his lips.

Y/N feels a warmth cover the side of her face, thumb rubbing against her cheek.

“Look at me.” It’s easier said than done, but she manages to open her eyes to admire the sight above her. Seungmin’s hair sticks to his forehead, skin flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat.

“Good girl.” He whispers and Y/N runs her fingers over Seungmin’s chest and stomach making him shiver slightly. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling the athlete closer so they’re chest to chest. It really only takes a few more minutes for Seungmin to start to lose his restraint. Despite his previous words, he starts to move faster, practically knocking the breath out of Y/N when he does.

“Seungmin I’m-“ she’s cut off as his mouth covers her’s. Both their lips must be swollen by now and it hurts when Seungmin softly bites her lower one. After pulling away, he shoves his face in Y/N’s neck, bringing one hand down to rub at her clit.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries while throwing her head back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, “Min!” She feels his hand grab hers, intertwining their fingers. He gasps her name and goes a little harder, squeezing her hand.

“Come, please.” He tells her, lifting his head from her neck, “So pretty when you come.” Seungmin slurs out his words and rubs her more harshly, making Y/N jerk her hips and dig her nails into Seungmin’s hand as she falls over the edge, vision going blurry.

With a few quick thrusts, Seungmin finishes with a quiet whimper. He allows himself to rest on top of Y/N, kissing her neck and up her jaw softly. Y/N runs a hand through his hair, before lifting his chin and bringing his lips to hers. After a few moments, having slightly caught his breath, Seungmin pulls out and throws out the condom before falling on his back beside his girl. The two pant whilst staring at the ceiling.

“How are you?” Seungmin asks Y/N, shifting and wrapping his arm around her waist, “Need anything? Want something?” She moves a little, resting her head on his chest and giving him a quick kiss there.

“I’m fine.” Her voice is almost covered because of the rain pelting the windows. She’s lying, she actually is pretty hungry, just unwilling to move. Seungmin runs a hand through her hair just like how she did to him earlier. As he expected, Y/N’s breaths start to steady, indicating that she is almost asleep. He pulls her a little closer to his chest, bending his neck down to peck her shoulder.

“Goodnight my love.” Seungmin whispers before closing his eyes, allowing the sound of rain hitting the window along with the warmth his girl is giving him to lull him to sleep.

“Night Minnie.”

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