#i KNOW they have doctors and stuff who know who they are etc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rileyslibrary · 1 year

Note

may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc

doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰

thankyouu🥺✨

I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫

———————————————————————

Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.

His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.

The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.

The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.

While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.

Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.

You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.

You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.

Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”

“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”

His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.

“Why the glitter?” he asks.

“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.

“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.

“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”

“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”

He lets out a sarcastic scoff.

“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.

He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”

He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.

They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.

You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.

He is livid.

“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.

“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”

“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”

“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”

“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”

Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.

Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.

“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.

“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.

You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”

“And I had only one sheet of paper.”

“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.

“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”

They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.

“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”

“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.

“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”

———————————————————————

A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!

4K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 17 days

Note

haii! :33

can i request boothill and argenti (seperately) with a shy gn!reader who gets flustered easily? whether it would be through words, physical touch or stuff like that

thank youu!! ^_^

Jing yuan:

Smug bastard.

Acts like he wasn’t the reason you were flustered to the high heavens from brushing his hand across your waist.

‘Are you alright my dear?’ He’d say, faking innocence as he intentionally held your face in his hands, softly caressing your cheeks as he felt them gradually grow warmer with every stroke of his thumbs. ‘You’re feeling rather warm here, should I get you to a doctor?’ He adds with a knowing smile.

‘N-no. I’m fine.’ You’d say, unable to form actual thoughts as your mind was heavily focused on a plethora of things, from the way that his hands held your face as though it were porcelain, to the way he caresses your skin felt like kisses in their own right.

The acclaimed dozing general raised an eyebrow as his smile only grew more mischievous. ‘Are you sure? You’re really heating up my dear, I wouldn’t want you to faint on me now,’ he then leaned in close, chuckling upon hearing you gasp a the close proximity, whispering. ‘Unless that’s your intention.’

Jing Yuan thoroughly enjoyed being the reason you were flustered and found your reactions addictive, so much that he would start doing things where he got to see that reaction as much as possible.

Touching your hand

Brushing shoulders

Sitting really close to you/ ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you, etc.

However if you were to ever express that you wanted him to stop, he will as he understands that you might not want to be made to fluster all the time. He’s not a dickhead and respects you greatly for giving him the ability to start living life again.

Argenti:

This man speaks from the bottom of his heart, there’s not a single lie to be found in his words, and it was due to that undeniable truthfulness that left you more flustered then not.

‘I only speak the truth my beloved rose.’ He says softly as he held your hands in his own all the while maintaining eye contact, which didn’t help you in any way shape or form as you felt your face practically burst into flames and your heart going at a mile an hour the longer you stay in close proximity to him.

He smelt of roses and chivalry, which was odd as you didn’t think chivalry could have a smell, but with Arenti anything was seemingly possible.

‘You are the beauty that I’ve been seeking and now that I have you, I have no doubt that I will love you for eternity should it be allowed of me.’

Boom, you’re dead and on the floor as you stare up at the ceiling as Argenti was quick to move to kneel at your side, face full of concern as his face hovers over you all the while his hair acted as ruby red curtains, forcing you to solely focus on his extremely pretty face. He looked like an angel in that moment and you somehow still found it in you to get even more flustered upon gazing at his face.

He’s genuinely concerned about you whenever you got flustered, his heart and soul were just so pure that he wasn’t really clicking onto the fact that he was the reason you were constantly flustered.

‘My dear flower, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you somehow? Should I seek medical attention?’ - him.

‘No, I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes…or an hour.’ -you, flustered to the high heavens and embarrassment for making him worry.

Boothill:

Smug bastard 2.0

The moment you shown him how easily flustered you could get, it’s over for you as you’ve given Boothill ammunition to keep finding new ways to flustered you on the daily.

Your reactions were his drug and he’d gladly overdoes on them if he could but that might be going a bit too far, however he didn’t care because you being flustered from almost anything he did had become everything to him.

So he would nuzzle his cheek to yours.

Playfully nibbles on your earlobe, shoulder, neck, arms, lips and takes enjoyment in your squeals and attempts to get away from him, only to be pulled back in.

Kissing your lips constantly, even more so in public.

The teasing is never ending with Boothill.

He’s relentless, unyielding and extremely brutal in his teasings that you may as well be permanently flustered. However if you were to shyly give this gremlin a taste of his own medicine by boldly kissing his cheek, he’s suddenly silent and a little fluttered.

He just loves smothering you in love and will continue to do so as nothing else mattered to him in that moment more than you and the effects he had over you.

708 notes · View notes

willowbelle · 3 months

Text

Trafalgar Law NSFW Alphabet

❤︎ Trafalgar Law nsfw alphabet A-Z ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

(written with afab!reader in mind; terms for genitals used, but no pronouns)

author’s note: i think my favorites are D, E, O, & W ;)

word count: ~1,400

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Trafalgar Law NSFW Alphabet

A: Aftercare

Aftercare from Law comes outwardly from a medical standpoint, asking if you peed after, telling you to rinse off, getting you water, etc. However, you can tell there’s a deep caring that resides within him, threatening to slip out in intimate moments like these. He’ll always hold you and stroke your hair as you come down from your highs, asking you if you’re feeling okay, if you need anything, telling you how amazing you are, stuff like that. :’)

B: Body part

Law is proud of his chest and arms; he likes showing you how easily he can lift you up. Oh, and he loves his tattoos. As for you, Law is attracted to everything about you, but he especially notices the little things; the way you thighs look when you sit down, how goosebumps spread over your body when he touches you, your beautiful eyes and long lashes, the way you pout your pretty lips, he notices everything, and he’s addicted to all of it.

C: Cum

It's no secret that Law likes to stuff you full of his cum, and he loves seeing it drip out of your spent cunt when he finally pulls out. but, in order to be safe, he opts for coming on your face or your chest. He loves seeing his seed drip down your face and your pretty tits.

D: Dirty secret

Law has a praise kink. Although it lives deep within him, for once, he wants to be the one who’s being taken care of, for someone to tell him how good he’s doing and how good he feels. Sweet thing. Secretly, he wants to whimper and whine for you, and let you do anything you want to him while you tell him how wonderful he is.

E: Experience

Honestly, I don't see Law being very experienced. He spent the majority of his life focused on a very specific goal that left no room to think about things like sex or relationships. However, I truly believe Law knows what he’s doing when it comes to sex... He's a doctor, after all, and obtains vast knowledge about the human anatomy. He knows what to do and how to do it, he just hasn’t given himself the opportunity to show off his skills ;)

F: Favorite position

Law loves getting as deep inside you as possible, so you’ll often find yourself in a mating press; your legs hanging over his strong shoulders as he forces you into the mattress, admiring how the outline of his cock looks pressing through your stomach.

G: Goofy

No, it’s Law. He takes sex seriously and doesn’t fool around.

H: Hair

Law has dark pubic hair with a happy trail. He keeps it perfectly trimmed for “sanitary reasons.”

I: Intimacy

Law takes sex pretty seriously, and he wants you to feel held by him. Although he’s a man of little words, Law reassures and comforts you; holding your hand, whispering sweet things into your ears as he rearranges your guts. <3

J: Jackoff

Law has a very healthy relationship with masturbation. He views it as simply a desire of human nature. When he can’t have actual sex, he resorts to jacking off. He does it when he needs to, never excessively.

K: Kinks

Surprising to no one, Law is very into bdsm. He wants to see you come undone beneath him while you’re tied up, blindfolded, and at his mercy.

L: Location

Law isn’t a risk-taker. He’ll fuck you in his room, in the shower. Maybe in a secluded closet on the Polar Tang, or something like that.

M: Motivation (turn ons)

Law likes it when you call him captain and tease him with well-timed touches and semi-revealing clothing.

N: No

Although he tries to play it off and act nonchalant, Law is quite possessive. So, absolutely no sharing. You're his and only his. He’ll kill someone if they even look at you.

O: Oral

Giving: My dear friend @bby-deerling and I have concluded that although Law is talented with his fingers, he’s not as gifted with his mouth. Although, he always tries his hardest to make you feel good. He’s getting better, he just needs some guidance on where and how to flick his tongue. Oh, and he likes it when you instruct him. He loves when you grab onto his hair and command him, pressing his face into your cunt and telling him just what to do.

Receiving: Law loves when you dip down beneath his desk to suck him off while he’s working. He relishes in the way your tongue dances over his weeping tip and the way your throat engulfs and squeezes his throbbing shaft. He always tries to keep working, but never can, the feeling is too enticing, too addicting. He doesn’t last long like this.

P: Pace

Law opts for thrusting hard, not necessarily fast, (although, he can do that, too) but he prefers to go slow and hard, obsessed with the way your pretty face contorts in both pain and pleasure with each harsh thrust. He’ll eventually speed up, but the cruelty and intensity of his thrusts never falters.

Q: Quickies

Doesn’t mind them, but they’re definitely not his preferred way of fucking you. He likes to experience everything everytime you engage in intimacy. However, if you’re on a time crunch, he of course doesn’t mind slipping your panties to the side and pressing you against a wall to have his way with you.

R: Risk

Law is pretty guarded, he definitely doesn’t want to get caught partaking in such an intimate thing. He’d be so embarrassed, poor baby. Like I said before, the riskiest thing he’ll do is fuck you in the bathroom or shower, maybe a very secluded public location if he’s feeling bold.

S: Stamina

Law can last quite awhile, but he’s not superhuman. Two to three rounds is his max until he’s collapsed on top of you, drained of everything within him.

T: Toys

Sure, Law will use toys if you want to, but be prefers making you cum with his body alone. It makes him feel good about himself, and deep down, that’s all he really wants. If he does use toys, I’m thinking something like a vibrating wand to hold on your clit while he rails you.

U: Unfair

Law is a tease. He secretly likes when you're bratty so he give you a taste of your own medicine, only 10 times worse. He always wants to teach you a lesson.

V: Volume

It’s Law, he’s never very loud. Most often, you’ll hear low groans and deep breaths from Law. But when you’re in charge, don't be surprised if you hear whimpers and whines escape his throat. His face burns red when these lewd noises emit from his mouth, shocked that he can even do that, but he just can’t help it when he’s at your mercy like this.

W: Wild card

Law has a thing for ripping your clothes off. Literally ripping. If you’re wearing tights, expect there to be a hole in the crotch when he’s done with you. Don’t wear your nice panties around him, ‘cause those will be ruined, too. If you complain, he’ll just give you a flat, “I’ll buy you new ones.”

X: X-ray

Oh dear, Law is quite literally the stereotype: tall, thin, emo; he is very well-endowed. I’m thinking 7.5-8 inches, a medium girth, curved upwards with a thick vein on the underside. Pretty, tan pinkish tip. Circumcised.

Y: Yearning (sex drive)

Law has a low to medium sex drive. He’s a busy, hardworking man, so sex isn't really ever on the forefront of his mind. But oh my, when he does get horny, it’s intense, so you’d better prepare yourself.

Z: Zzz

Law’s an insomniac, of course, but a good session with you is kind of like his melatonin. However, even when he’s tired from fucking all night long, it still takes him quite a while to fall asleep. He prefers laying naked with you and watching you cuddle up on his chest and drift off to sleep. He’ll always give you a forehead kiss and wish you goodnight, even when you’re already knocked out. <3

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

©this work belongs to willowhaze26.

do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms.

comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

643 notes · View notes

sashi-ya · 1 year

Text

[𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 ✦ +𝟏𝟖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 ]

✦ requested by Anonymous for the free requests ➜ Sash! have you ever wrote an n sfw alphabet for Law? if not, can you do it? thank you 💞 ➜ never wrote these alphabets so I will try! I hope you enjoy 💖 ✦ alphabet template by @the-coldest-goodbye ✦ tw: mentions of kinks. toys. masturbation. minors dni. ✦ masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Law is a doctor, so he will take care of any of your physical necessities with utmost care. He will ask precise questions to assess you and know your status. Once that’s out of the way, he will lay on his bed with spread arms inviting you to cuddle right over his chest. A man of few words, but loving acts. His hand will go up and down through your back and even some butterfly kisses will be given if you crawl with your head up in search for his lips. He enjoys peace and silence. Relaxing after an intense session is what he likes to do the most.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His fave body part has to be his chest. Law loves to show off how proud he is of his Cora-san’s legacy. Kiss and trail a path with your finger tips on top of his tattooed heart, you will have him melt under your sweet touch.

His fave body part from you has to be your belly. Law enjoys placing kisses and rest his cheeks on top of it. He is specially in love to bulges, so if you have one (or he creates one with uh… you know) be prepared to be double praised.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Law is a very intelligent man and that includes a healthy relationship with contraceptives. He will wear condoms most of the times to take care of you and him as well. However, if the relationship has reached higher trust levels, he will tend to go raw. Is not that he wouldn’t love to stuff you like a thanksgiving turkey (in fact, is all he wants to do) but he is a very responsible man if you can bear children. He has to make sure you are ok with it and in which place both are in terms of pregnancy possibilities.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He was the one who stole your pair of panties. Yes, those you couldn’t find anymore when you joined his crew. The ones you thought flew away while letting them dry on that island. Those, those are Law’s One Piece. (Perhaps he has even tried them on more than once…)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not really experienced. He hasn’t got intimate with many people before. Being a pirate like him, and especially since he was focused on his plans didn’t let him have much free time to meet and date other people. In any case, he wasn’t really interested in hooking up. He, however, knows very well how to treat your body. He has study anatomy to perfection and so Law knows exactly what and how to touch you. Plus, as he is a very intelligent man he probably loves to do some “research” (meaning videos, too). He will be prepared, and he will learn along with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You against the wall or bowed against his desk. Law loves to top you, pull from your head and be able to inspect your entrances before burying deep into you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Well, he is pretty serious and most of the times it comes as a way to cope with his own shyness. But he will scoff and smirk as you moan his name or plead for more.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Short, well-groomed hair. Pubic hair is there for a reason, and it’s healthy. So, he will have it perfectly trimmed. Also, it connects with a happy trail that goes from the little bump under his belly button towards his pelvic area. (Also, he has a tattoo on his right side. It goes with the same style as the rest of his body, and hell it is sexy as fuck. He loves it for you to kiss it)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As mentioned before, he is not really interested in hook ups or one-night stands, meaning that he needs to have a real connection to be intimate. Being romantic is not his forte, he is not a person that would recite poems nor very sweet things. However, he has his own way of showing you how much he loves you. Of course he will whisper about it, probably when both are about to reach climax. But his romanticism shows in terms of actions; protecting you with his life or taking care of you. Also, placing little kisses before and after intercourse.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He has a healthy relationship with masturbation. Whenever he gets hard he will search for you. However, if he happens to be alone and you are out of reach… well, that’s when he will rely on his hand. And mind you, he loves it. I think he is the type to overly stimulate himself with the palm of his hand grazing his gland when he is about/he just came.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Law is a little bit of a sadist (we all know that) I think he is probably into bd/sm related practices but maybe not so much into physically hurting his lover. The most “pain” you could experience is by your wrists and ankles being tied. He would, however, love to make you beg and plead for more. Law would enjoy overstimulating you, and I see him as a man who would love to play in the dark with you. Not just blindfolding you, but both unable to see, relaying only in the memories of your bodies and the sensations you can experience when sudden touches explore each other’s skins.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you and him feel comfortable. Law doesn’t need fancy beds to fuck you. He loves his office specifically and also to pin you against the big glass wall of his room when the Polar Tang is submerged. To have your body kissed by a blueish light, playing with the concept of exposing you but still with nobody able to see you is something he really enjoys.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your existence. Whenever you say something he finds absolutely interesting, he will get really motivated. But also, when you get him on his nerves. A sudden outburst of punishment need creeps inside and nests on his lower belly. The more you contradict or tease him, the more he fantasises to grab you by your wrists and pin you against the wall to teach you how frustrated he is feeling.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Things against your will. Medical play… ffs he is so tired of it. (As a worker in the medical field, it’s pretty weird to sexualize our daily work :P) Cuckolding… you being fucked or even touched by other man while he watches? Nah.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving: OOOOF MAN, he will be thirsty and hungry. You know how Luffy eats meat? well, that’s him eating you out.

Receiving: he will try to hold back, but he won’t be able to stop himself from making you gag and fucking your mouth if you dare to play with his balls while you suck. In fact, he wants to hear you gag and tear up.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I think it depends. If he is “teaching you a lesson” I think he will go fast and rough, but the more you whimper and cry because you are about to cum he will go slow, sloooower and so deep to make you burst. If it’s some kind of sleepy sex, you know when you just wake up (cause he is usually pretty hard during mornings) he will go slow and sensual, grabbing your face, whispering how tight you are with his lips lingering on top of you and his sloppy eyelids.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves quickies but prefers going for more than one round and indulging in the full experience. He will, though, fuck you so rough in the bathroom of some place if he needs and wants to. Or even smiling pleased if you kneel down his desk while he works…

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes! But always if you aren’t in danger or the practice is gonna hurt your emotional or physical health. However, if it’s something you ask for, he will be absolutely careful and fully inform himself before doing it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depending on the day. He is not a beast, nobody is. But surely he can go up to 3 rounds. In any case because he cares to make every round a pleasure explosion for you, you won’t resist a lot more than those either :P

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not a super fan of toys, he knows he can do everything just fine with those inked fingers of his. However, as he is a little bit of a sadist, he will enjoy making you use one tiny vibrator outside. Law enjoys your faces while trying to dissimulate the pleasure the sudden pulses trigger on your sex.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A LOT. He really likes to tease you. He indeed loves to. You will want to punch him in the face for making you so aroused just to leave you waiting or denying your orgasm when he gets to pleasure you. This happens especially if you had teased him before 🙊

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not really loud until he is about to come. He is more of a grunts and growls man. He sometimes moans too, but the best part of it is when he seems to be in pain but in reality he is about to burst. You hear him pant and hiss with his mandible clench and his neck muscles stretched. Sometimes he can murmur “fuck” or “ugh…” as he buries his nails on your hips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He enjoys nipple play spiced it up with his devil fruit. I had this HC since I saw what the Ope Ope could do for the first time :p he is able to create little electric shocks in between his fingers to make you squirm and arch your back when he pinches your nipples.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

OH WAIT. I HAVE A MATHEMATICAL METHOD I DEVELOPED TO ESTIMATE ANY CHARACTER’S DICK LENGTH: (sorry if you don’t use metric system, but just convert cm to inches or whatever you use)

Sashi’s Method for Dick Estimated Length: So, you need a good figure and the scale of it. For example, I have a Grandista Law one that’s 1/14. Law is 191cm tall, the figure is 23cm. So: if 1/1 – 191cm, then 1/14 – 23cm Now, we usually estimate in medicine that genitalia is ~9% of the body size, ok? So what you wanna do is to take a ruler and measure approximately Law’s crotch in the figure. Mine is about 2cm. So if: (1/14 scale) 23cm – 2cm (1/1 scale) 191cm —x = 16.60cm Then, Law’s dick is about ± 17cm

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Normal sex drive. He is not a sex addict and he knows he won’t always be able to act on his urges. But, the more stressed and frustrated he feels (usually after spending some time with Mugiwara-ya) prepare yourself… he WILL NEED to release some stress 😏

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Law, the king of insomnia and red bull is not the type of man to fall asleep very easily… however, there is nothing like you to put him down to sleep like a baby. This happens, particularly, after a rush energy shock to fuck you. The more tired he is, the more he will pull energy from somewhere inside him to go ROUGH on you, but then, as he finishes, he will crash and suddenly fall asleep. He will snore too. LOUDLY.

2K notes · View notes

matthewsgreybubbles · 25 days

Note

I feel like we need a group for us softdom Spencer truthers - come on that boy is such a sassy little bitch who like to practically inhale the person he’s kissing, he wouldn’t utter the word mommy

Alright baby, take a drink because this is going to be LONG.

Because I don't think that soft dom Spencer is that much out of character. Honestly, I find it more accurate than some of the sub! Spencer I saw. Spencer is a worshipper, he's sub in that way but he is dom in the way he handles things. I'm not sure this is clear so let me explain-

Mentally Spencer is a sub, physically he's a dom.

Let's talk about early seasons Spencer first. Because that Spencer was not confident nor experienced enough to dom. He was supposed to be a chronically virgin. BUT, but, but- listen- have you seen the way he kissed that girl in the pool in season 1? Lyla? I think? Anyway, Amber Heard. The way he kisses Amber Heard in that pool SCREAMS dom. I think he always had that dog in him you know? He was just not expressing it. But oh boy-

The more we go through the seasons the more he becomes confident and cocky. Remember that episode in season 3 with the kid shooting the people from his school? Where he disrespected Hotch's orders and just sent everybody to fuck themselves? Or the "This is calm, and it's doctor". See what I'm talking about? He becomes sassy and cocky and he let his little "dom side" out.

But that being said Spencer is not violent or whatever and even "soft dom" is a bit too harsh for him. It's "really really really soft soft dom Spencer". It's dom Spencer in the bedroom who puts his whole heart into the deed, hm?

NONETHELESS, Spencer is a hot mess, he whimpers and cries, he's needy and putty in your hands. Soft dom Spencer is a worshipper. He wouldn't utter the word "mommy" no- But he would ask for your praises. Dude, he has such a praise kink. I think it's more the type to ask if he's making you feel good, if you love him, if you love what he's doing, etc. And boy he learns fast on that field so YES.

And it gets worse after prison. Post-prison Reid is even more "soft dom", it grows. He becomes more clingy, more firm in his touches, his hands are always on you, he's always needing reassurance, always needing you to listen to what he says to you because he is an anxious little bean. He will do nasty things to you while worshipping just to hear you tell him he did good. After prison he's rougher in his touches, he becomes more manhandling. But it's still Spencer so it's not that much violent but.

Soft dom Spencer is just a worship sub. He doesn't degrade or whatever. He just needs to be reassured by your obedience and he puts PASSION in rewarding you.

I think he's heavy on foreplay and stuff, even more than in the deed itself. I mean, once again, THE KISSES PEOPLE THE KISSES. The way he fucking kissed Cat against that door? I swear to God OPJFGHIOEZK. I am SPIRALLING.

Am I going too far again? Yeah probably.

Sorry for the rambling lmao.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler #soft dom spencer reid #sub spencer reid #post-prison spencer reid #my sweet anons

192 notes · View notes

smellrain · 25 days

Text

𝐧𝐡𝟏𝟑 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

in which: nico and you had met years ago in a cold rink in canada but then lost touch for several reasons. It's hard, growing and correcting mistakes of your past but you try anyway.

tags: written, angst, hopeful ending, mentions of: depression, injuries, hospitals, doctors, etc. (masterlist)

notes: [5.1k] I have no idea what this is? I woke up, wrote the entire thing and passed out again for 2 hours. Tried polishing it through editing? Yeah. It turned out a lot different than the rest of my stuff so far, so it's scary posting this. Come & tell me if you liked it.

The ice was as harsh as it was unforgiving.

The cold air of the rink has seeped into your bones years ago and the reddend tips of your fingers went numb a while ago, but you were used to it by now. Nothing really mattered when you got like this, too caught up in your head for anyone to reach.

Not even yourself.

You had been home and then suddenly not, your body already knowing what you needed before your mind caught up to it.

The rink wasn’t open, not yet, but you had gotten a key years ago. The owner, David, had been the only one that had looked at you the same back then. There had been a knowing sort of look in his eyes when he had seen you waiting for him at the front door stepps, eyes red.

He had given you a key, because he had seen you for who you were: a girl whose entire life had collapsed around her.

Bronze at fifteen, silver at sixteen, gold forever out of reach.

You could still remember the red pen tucked into your doctor’s coat. The ‘my condolences, but’, the white light, the letter in your hand, the sinking realisation that this was it.

That you were going to be one of the several girls that had pushed their body too far.

The same way you had done everything back then you had followed the instructions of your therapist to the letter. Stretching, compressions, different exercises. Still, there was no full recovery, no chance of ever skating professionally again.

That might be the worst part, still being able to skate but knowing that you will never be able to feel it anymore. That you were cursed to be in this limbo, never letting go of it but never being able to live for it anymore.

The harsh sound of your blade cutting over the fresh ice was as pleasant as it was torture. You wanted more, but you had to settle for this. You had to learn that this was all you were ever going to get.

These select few hours in the early morning, just before your classes started, before you had to start living your life.

You could feel yourself drawing harsh breaths, but it didn’t matter. You had pushed through worse, hunger, hurt and feelings just to stand here for a bit longer. The ringing in your ear accumulated when you thought about all that you had lost, that you could never regain.

Suddenly the heavy door of the entrance fell closed. You slowed down, curious who it might be. The clock in the corner of your vision reflected a red 05:57 back at you. It was too early for it to be anyone aside from David or another person with a key, someone like you.

It was a guy, a bag in his hand and another slung over his shoulder.

You would recognize the equipment anywhere, familiar with it in a distant way. It must be a hockey player that David had picked out out of the hundreds that frequented this place.

For some reason you already didn’t like him. Maybe because unlike you, he had the chance of actually archiving his dreams. Bitterness was an annoying but frecent emotion that stained the back of your mouth.

You wanted. You wanted more than this. You wanted the early morning practices, the ones after school, the rigidous schedule, the heavy monitoring. What were you without all that?

The static in your mind had been interrupted by his arrival but you hardly noticed, more focused on the way he walked down the stairs, casually like he had done so hundreds of times already.

It was almost six, which meant it was time to get off the ice anyways, so you circled a few laps, rotating your wrists and shoulders to feel if anything was off, and then made your way towards the outside of the rink.

“You look pretty,” said the boy from where he was tying his shoelaces up on the benches. “Out on the ice, I mean.”

Something in you hurt at that, as if your heart started pulling at its own strings. It’s been a while since anyone has watched you skate,, since you let someone else watch you. There was a sharp kind of anger rising up in you that it had been him watching you which dissipated as soon as you looked back at him.

It wasn’t his fault. There really was something wrong with you.

You knew your parents didn’t approve of you being here, but they couldn’t look at you anymore when you skated, disappointed that this was how it had ended. Disappointed in you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice completely scraped raw. You hoped he didn’t notice it.

“I’m Nico,” he said, approaching you. He held out his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves yet but his dark shirt had thumbholes that his thumb peeked through which was weirdly endearing on him.

You looked back up to his face. There was a tired but polite smile plastered on it but you didn’t have the energy to give him one. Instead you simply told him your name and took his hand. Even through his layer of fabric it was warm beneath your icy fingers.

He didn’t flinch at the cold of your hand and instead started genuinely smiling which took you by surprise. People didn’t react to meeting you like this, not anymore.

Then, without saying anything else, he took off his guards and stepped on the ice, skating around to warm up. You watched him for a bit while scraping off the excess ice and putting your skates away.

His skating was differentthan yours; not as delicate. The beauty of it had been hammered into you from an early age on which didn’t seem to be the case form him. It was weird, not being on the ice, being the one to watch instead.

You changed back into your shoes and walked up the steps.

From the top, which wasn’t all that high because this rink wasn’t that big, he seemed small. You wondered if you looked like that too, if anyone had thought that when you fell down, when they had seen you sprawled on the ice at fifteen, not being able to get up again.

A sick shudder passed through you. You wondered if you had ever gotten up from that ice.

Then you turned around, your back to him and left without saying goodbye.

~*~

The next time you saw him again, was two days later, just after six.

You knew you were going to be late for class but didn’t really care. Today you weren’t as cooped up in your own head, but it was still hard to let go of these stolen few hours of freedom and face reality.

“Hey,” Nico said, “it’s you again.”

“Hello,” you said in return. He stepped on the ice and you fought off the urge to leave immediately. That would be impolite, a voice reminded you in your head, even if you didn’t want him to be here right now.

“Are you here every morning?” he asked you, falling into step beside you and therefore joining you on your cooldown laps.

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Couldn’t he just do his own thing? Did he have to come talk to you? “Yes.”

"Dedicated. I only come every second day,” he said as if it mattered to you. You might have to leave early every second day now to avoid talking to him, which made your scowl even worse.

“Okay.” You said instead.

He hummed in reason but dropped the conversation after. When you took a look at him from the corner of your eye he didn’t seem deterred at your attitude, seemingly just satisfied that he got a response.

After another lap in, you hated to admit it but companionable silence, you left, without saying anything but this time he waved back at you from below. You didn’t return his gesture.

~*~

Despite your early judgement, the two of you formed some kind of routine over the next few weeks. You came early, and sometimes you left a protein bar for him in the stands and sometimes he brought you a hot tea for when you got off the ice.

Still, always without fail, he joined you for a few laps. He talked about his life and sometimes asked you a few questions. Sometimes you answered him, other times you didn’t. He never pressed for answers.

Nico told you that he was from Switzerland, which explained the heavy accent. He just joined Halifax, and he came early to work on his technique, preferring to do so in silence without his teammates chirping at him. You, in turn, told him that you had skated, professionally, before your injury. He didn’t ask for details about either of these things and you didn’t share of your own accord.

Slowly, so slowly that you didn’t even notice, you realised that he had become your friend.

It was strange. You hadn’t made friends in a long time. Before, you had had school friends, but because you never hung out outside of it, always training, it never deepend.

A weird sort warmth seeped in under your skin at the thought of the two of you being friends like a steady fire that kept you warm at night.

The friends you had made while skating splintered along with your knee.

It was hard, you knew that, to see their worst fear reflected back at them, but it was still hard for you to reach out, so you simply stopped talking to each other.

On your bad days you thought that it was all their fault, on your good you knew that it was a mutual mistake.

The thing about Nico was that he was hard to pin down. He was hardworking, thrived under pressure and loved hockey. He was also afraid of falling and failing, he loved sitting under the sun in the summers, feeling his skin heat up and his favorite colour was green, but he admitted that it changed every few weeks.

You knew that this friendship wouldn’t last, not really. Neither of you had any way of reaching out to the other, and neither expressed the desire to do so but it was still nice, this tentative kinship.

~*~

“Have you ever played hockey?” he asked you, once.

It must have been a Saturday or Sunday because you were in no hurry to get off the ice, instead basking in his company.

“No,” you answered, simply.

He grinned, “you are missing out.”

“Really now?” you asked, teasingly, when you turned around to skate with your front to him.

“Really. I wanna teach you,” he said, leaving the choice up to you without outright asking. If you wanted to you could just brush it off and the conversation would continue.

Instead you said, “yeah, sure, why not.”

His smile was blinding, the adoration for his sport bleeding from every inch of his skin. It was a good look on him, happiness. Distantly you wondered if anyone had ever thought that about you.

It was different, skating with a stick in your hands but it was fun. He taught you how to shoot and aim at a certain spot which you weren’t half bad at if you stood still.

Hours later when the two of you stepped off the ice your tea was cold but you hardly noticed it.

~*~

Another day you asked him what he was reaching for.

“Olympics,” he had answered immediately but after a beat of silence he looked up as if the lights in the ceiling were stars he could wish upon. “I think I want someone to look at me and think ‘I want to do that. I want to start playing hockey.’”

You looked at him and the only thought that crossed your mind was that he was the reason you could step off the ice again, that you knew you would always be able to come back, just one more time.

“I like that,” you said because it was true.

He tilted his head back to you, and the way his eyes glimmered with a rare vulnerability made your breath catch. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, standing still, alive and just in reach.

Oh.

That was that feeling in your chest.

~*~

Yet another day he joined you on the ice and you immediately kicked him off again.

“What did I say about injuries?” you asked, frustrated in a way only he could make you.

“That they were not to be ignored,” he parroted back, his gaze between his feet as if staring at his ankle would magically heal it.

“Exactly,” you said. Then, gentler than before, “you need to give yourself time to heal, otherwise you will never get better.”

He looked back up to where you were hovering above him. “Okay.”

You didn’t want him to have the last word. “Okay,” you said firmly and sat down next to him.

The two migrated up to the changing rooms where he sat on a bench with his ankle elevated while you worked through your stretches, your knewww aching in phantom pain.

~*~

Today your mind was quiet.

It was your last time and you had wanted to take it all in again, one last time. You were moving, your father had gotten a new job somewhere in New Jersey. You knew it was good, a new start away from everything, a chance to start over.

But still, you were going to miss this. The rink, the quiet, the place you had grown up in. The place that was your prison as much as it was your salvation.

As you looked up towards the ceiling, the lights shining down on you, the dark gary that seemed black in contrast, you thought you should cry. This was the perfect moment to, and you hadn’t yet.

Then, the door opened.

You were surprised because he wasn’t supposed to be here today. Nico had been here yesterday and the two of you had argued about your favorite brand of cereal, and you selfishly had wanted to leave it at that.

To leave your friendship without having to say goodbye, without having to ever really let go of him.

“Nico,” you breathed, before you could stop yourself.

“Hey you,” he said, as he came up to you. You didn’t even realise that you had stopped moving.

“It’s late,” he stated. You looked up to the clock and sure enough, it was almost twenty past.

“Ah,” you said, uncaring. It’s not like you had school today. You wondered when he went to school, if his just started later than yours had. In all your talks you had never actually talked about it.

And you never were going to anymore, you had to remind yourself. Suddenly it was a lot harder to breathe through the ache in your chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you knew he meant it, “you look, I don’t know, sad?”

“I’m moving,” before he could ask anything more, “like tomorrow. This is the last time I’m going to see you in a while.”

“Oh.” The expression on his face was hurt, because he must have realised that you had intended to leave without saying anything.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “for everything.” You weren’t really sure for what, but it seemed like the right thing to say. For your intentions, the way you acted, maybe.

“It’s okay,” he said, but it wasn’t, not really. You knew that and he knew that you knew.

“I’m moving to New Jersey.”

He was quiet for a bit.”America,” he started. Then, “do you want to exchange numbers?”

You ignored the sting behind your eyes. “I’m probably going to have to get a new simcard, but you can give me yours.”

The two of you skated back to the door, from where you had stood still in the middle of the open space. He got a piece of paper and a pen from his bag and then somewhat messily tore off the corner of a worksheet and scribbled down his number in blue ink and signed it with his name.

He looked up at you but neither of you said anything for a while. What was there to say, anymore?

“Don’t forget about me,” he ended up telling you and you reached out to hug him. He was warm under your hands, steady and you were going to miss this, him.

“Don’t forget me either,” you murmured into the crook of his neck.

Still, in the back of your mind, you knew that you were never going to use his number. You were going to cut off your old life before it could follow you to your new one. But for once you had told him the truth, you weren’t going to forget about him, probably ever.

And that was that. You said goodbye, waved and you left him there. He returned the gesture, face unreadable and you were sad that the last time he looked at you he wasn’t smiling.

From the top you looked down at him one last time. He seemed bigger now, compared to that first time you had looked down at him, still filled with bitterness.

Maybe that was just your imagination, or maybe it was his confidence after playing with his current team, after seeing his results pay off.

You turned and let the door fall closed behind you.

Then, and only then tears started to well up in your eyes. You ignored them and moved on. Always looking ahead, never back.

Still, you kept the number tucked away safely hidden in a small corner of your wallet. A piece of him that you would always carry with you.

~*~

You made new friends, graduated and decided to attend college. Got diagnosed with chronic depression and mild anxiety, got a boyfriend and broke it off again after three months, cried, laughed and finally lived.

But there was part of you hidden in the corner of your wallet, too.

~*~

If you were being honest, Nico didn’t really cross your mind when your friend asked you to go to a hockey game with you.

In a way he did, because he had been one of your few friends that played hockey, but it was more of an oh yeah, the sport Nico loved and not oh yeah I’m going to a hockey game and I wonder if Nico is still playing, I wonder if he made it to the big leagues.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie, but still. You hadn’t expected this.

The two of you went to the Prudential Center and you were excited despite your earlier apprehension. Your phone with the blocked tags of icehockey and nhl seemed to burn a hole in your pants but it’s not like anyone would know.

Your friend had told you a bit about the team, but if you were being honest, you could not remember any of their names, much less which position and line they played.

When the players got announced, the home team first, you froze. Suddenly the noise of the cheers around you were completely quiet until they flooded back to you, a harsh reminder of reality.

Because it was him. That was Nico. Your Nico. Or like your past Nico.

There, with a red thirteen and a small C over his chest, was Nico. He was all grown up now, and instead of thinking wow, he is kind of attractive when he smiled at the camera, you thought, holy shit, he is really, really handsome.

Your friend picked up on your strange behaviour. “What's wrong?”

I know him, you wanted to scream. I think he saved my life without meaning to, and I think I loved him but I never told him. What came out instead was, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“What?” she asked, suddenly even more worried, “do you need fresh air? Or do you just want to leave?”

You wanted to stay. You wanted to shoot a puck at his head and tell him to look up at you, the way he had done back then.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you said and when didn’t change at your reply, you added, “I’m just going to get some water. I think it might be the crowd or something.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with?”

You knew how much she had been looking forward to it, and besides there was nothing she could help you with anyhow. “No, really, it’s all good. Just need to breathe for a second.”

She gave you a look, and you smiled despite wanting to curl up in a corner and cry, “if you are sure. But if anything,” she took your hand in hers, “if anything is wrong call me. I’m gonna have my phone in my hand the entire time.”

You squeezed her hand the same way your heart did at her words. “Thank you, really, but it’s okay. I'll be right back.”

Then you fled up the stands and you couldn’t help but think about the first time you had seen him, how you had left without saying anything. You looked down, just once, and spotted him immediately, as if he was the north pole to your south, your eyes drawn to him.

He seemed even bigger now, as if he had finally grown into the steady confidence he had had, even back then.

You smiled. He deserved it, genuinely. You were glad that he did end up making it to the big leagues, even if some part of you hurt at that. You still missed ice skating, your rink from back then, David, but most of all you missed what could have been if you hadn’t been scared.

What could have been if you had just texted him.

Regret was a useless emotion to feel, but all of a sudden you felt yourself drown in and you coughed once, just to ease that feeling in your throat.

Then you turned your back to the ice and walked up the rest of the stairs to the stands to get yourself some water.

It was useless trying to think about any of it now, so you pushed the thoughts aside for later.

~*~

A week later you were drunk. It was a Friday evening and you had finally finished the gruelling lab you had worked on for the entire day.

You were hanging out in your friend’s room, the same friend that had taken you to the game a week before. Two of your other friends were sat ob the floor, leaning gainst the opposite bed and a warm, content feeling spread through your chest.

You had friends now.

“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asked from where she was sat next to you on her bed, her back against the headboard, yours against the wall adjacent to it.

“Nothing,” you answered because nothing was.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, tell me,” she said, “you've been quiet ever since we came back from the game a week ago and I’ve waited long enough for you to say something, so now I’m going to.”

Had you been that obvious? Or did she just know you that well? Either way, she deserved the truth, the full truth.

“I just,” you began and stopped again, starting to peel off the sticker on your beer with the blunt edge of your nail.

“When I was younger, I skated.” You started. You knew that she had never expressed any kind of interest in skating so you elaborated further, “really well.” Wow, you were really eloquent tonight.

“Okay,” she said, no doubt wondering where you were going with this.

Your mind was fuzzy around the edges because of the drinks which made harder than usual to focus on your words, but it made it easier to talk about it, too. These people didn’t know about anything that had been, only what was. “I was good enough to win. Olympics, I mean.”

Suddenly one of the other two friends from the other side of the room joined in. “The Olympics?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring firmly at the bottle in your hands, not looking at any of them. “I won bronze and silver, fifteen and sixteen.”

“Holy shit,” she said, as did your other friend, but one of them remained quiet, so you looked at her.

From the look in her eyes you knew that she knew. “And then I fell, badly. Tried to get up again but couldn’t. Went to the doctor and you know,” you trailed off, “retired. Started physiotherapy, got a lot better but…”

“Not enough to ever compete again,” she finished for you.

“Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “But I couldn’t let go of it, you know? So sometimes, before school, I snuck out to the local rink and skated around just because I didn’t know anything else.”

Your friend that was next to you on the bed made an encouraging noise, and laid a hand on your knee, so you continued.

“Then I met a guy. I was in a bad mental place, not really talking to anyone unless I had to, but we somehow became friends.”

Then you looked at them, “I don’t know, it was a weird friendship because we only ever saw each other at the rink every few days, but I felt something for him anyway. It wasn’t quite love but could have been, maybe.”

The others were still listening, and the words rushed out before you could stop yourself. “Then I moved. Wanted to leave before saying goodbye because that would hurt too much. On the day I was leaving I saw him anyway. He gave me his number but I never used it.”

“You wanted to make a clean cut?” your friend asked.

“Yeah. It was sefish, because it wasn’t just about me, you know? I should have told him how I felt, but I didn’t.” You shook your head, “but that’s not even the point. I saw him again at the game.”

“Oh,” your friend that had dragged you to it, said.

“Yeah,” you answered, and your other friend asked, “why didn’t you talk to him?”

The other friend, the one that had never asked you about your skating, even though she had known, even though she had every opportunity to, said, “because he was playing, right?”

“Yeah,” you said and you wanted to cry. You could still hear his name announced by the speakers. “Funny, all the time we spent together and I never knew his last name.”

“Who is it?” she asked, gentle, and you knew you could just not answer. You could bury it deep down, once and for all. But that’s not what you wanted to do, not anymore.

“Nico Hischier.” And your friend laughed.

“Of course it’s the captain,” she said and you couldn’t help but join in, the effects of the alcohol cursig through your veins. What were the chances, really? That he ended up in the state you had moved to all those years ago.

The others joined it. “He changed his number by now, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” one of them said.

All of you were quiet for a second. “Wait, I have an idea,” she said and moved her hand from your leg and grabbed your phone.

She gave it to you and made a motion for you to unlock it. You did and gave it back to her. From where you were sat you weren’t able to see your screen, much less what she typed on it.

After a few seconds she gave it back to you.

It was Nico’s instagram profile. You hesitated before clicking on his most recent post. Your other friends that had been sitting on the floor climbed up to join you.

“Follow him,” one of them said. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest. This was not the account you had used to document your wins and training back then, but it still had your first and last name in the username, but it was on private.

Underneath your thumb the button changed colour. “Fuck,” you said.

The other three laughed at your exclamation. “Wait, do I text him?” you asked, turning to the others.

They all looked back at you, and one of them asked, “do you want to?”

You did. You really fucking did, but you had no idea what to say. “But what do I say? Hey, sorry for being a dick to you when we were like seventeen, I was half in love with you and didn’t know how to tell you, so I just cut you out before anything could possibly hurt me.”

One of them leaned her head on your shoulder. “If you leave out the half in love part, it’s not too bad.”

“You should also ask if he wants to meet and talk in person,” the other said.

You opened your notes app and the four of you composed a message to him.

Your hands were shaking and your heart was beating too fast. This was it, this was your chance and you weren’t going to let go again without a fight. This time you would stay and he could make the choice: to stay or to leave.

Then, you hit the small blue icon and sent it and let out a quiet scream. You wouldn’t be able to take it back, not anymore.

You threw your phone away from you onto a small patch where the blanket you were sitting on was still visible.

Over an hour passed and you still hadn’t heard back from him. Soon after you pased out, but a quiet acceptance had settled in your stomach. He forgot. Or maybe he didn’t see the message or maybe he didn't want to talk to you again, which you couldn’t blame him for.

But when you woke up the next morning, you had a single notification from him.

For a second you debated not clicking on it, but that would mean standing still. It would be different this time. You would be different this time. There was an unfamiliar, new kind of determination that flickered up your spine and it reminded you of the steady ice under your skates, of the final hug the two of you had shared. Harsh, unforgiving, certain.

You clicked on it and there was no going back now.

Nico Hischier Hello, it’s been a while. Of course I remember you, didn’t I tell you? For sure, I'd love to meet up and talk. Does next weekend work for you? I have a home game which makes it easier for both of us.

notes: So. How are we feeling? Thoughts? Part 2? Please talk to me about this one because this lives in my mind rent free.

#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier imagine #nhl #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl x reader #ame writes

169 notes · View notes