i love it bc I'll be writing something kinda dirty and fun and smutty then midway through there's always inevitably a moment where im like wait how can I make this genuinely sad and kind of upsetting for some reason? lmao normal
You’re halfway into forgetting your own name when Seungmin kisses you the way he only does when he’s stopped pretending he doesn’t care.
It’s quiet in his room, lamp low, the rest of the dorm muffled like it’s underwater. You’re on his bed with your knees tucked against his hips, fingers curled in the fabric of his hoodie. He’s warm and steady, mouth soft against yours, kisses slow like he’s taking his time on purpose.
Seungmin’s hands are careful. One on your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck, thumb rubbing the spot just under your ear like he’s soothing you without even thinking about it.
You pull back a fraction for air.
His eyes flick to your lips immediately, like he’s annoyed you stopped.
“What,” you whisper, smiling.
He shrugs, but he doesn’t have his usual smart mouth right now. He just leans in and presses his forehead to yours.
“I like you,” he says quietly, like it’s embarrassing.
Your chest tightens. “Yeah?”
He nods once, then kisses you again, gentle, lingering. When you sigh, he smiles into your mouth, and the sound is so sweet it almost makes you laugh.
“Min,” you murmur.
He pulls away just enough to look at you properly, eyes soft, lashes low. His hand slides up your back under your shirt, warm palm flattening there like he’s anchoring you.
“Stay,” he says.
It’s one word, but it sounds like he’s been holding it in for weeks.
You nod, breath shaky. “Okay.”
Seungmin exhales like relief, like he didn’t realize he was tense until you agreed. He kisses your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth again, messy, affectionate, not trying to be cool.
Then he tucks you closer and buries his face in your neck like he belongs there.
You’re smiling so hard it hurts.
And then the door clicks open.
You both freeze.
Seungmin’s head snaps up, eyes wide in pure horror, and you turn just in time to see Felix standing in the doorway with a bag of snacks in one hand and the other hand still on the doorknob like he’s walked into the wrong universe.
There’s a full second of silence where no one moves.
Felix blinks.
Seungmin goes absolutely still, one arm still around your waist like he’s not sure whether to shield you or throw himself out the window.
Felix’s gaze flicks from Seungmin’s mouth, slightly swollen, lips pink, to your face, then to how close you’re sitting.
“Oh,” Felix says softly.
Seungmin’s voice comes out strangled. “Hyung.”
Felix’s eyebrows lift. “Ohhh.”
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. Seungmin looks like he’s about to combust.
Felix, for his part, looks genuinely torn between being respectful and being the most annoying person alive.
He leans back slightly, still in the doorway. “I’m… gonna pretend I didn’t see that.”
Seungmin’s ears go bright red. “Please.”
Felix nods, dead serious. “Okay.”
Then he pauses.
His eyes drift to Seungmin again, like he’s suddenly seeing him in HD.
“…Wow,” Felix adds, awed. “Seungmin has a soft side.”
Seungmin makes a sound of pure suffering. “Hyung.”
Felix’s mouth twitches. “You were doing the gentle thing. Like… the boyfriend thing.”
You feel Seungmin’s hand tighten at your waist, protective and mortified at the same time.
Felix lifts the snack bag slightly. “I brought chocolate.”
Seungmin stares at him like he might actually cry. “Why are you still here?”
Felix shrugs, smiling now. “Because I’m happy for you.”
Seungmin’s glare tries to be scary and fails. “Get out.”
Felix backs up immediately, hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving. I’m leaving.”
He turns, then pauses at the hall like he can’t help himself.
“Wait,” Felix says, looking back. “Are you two like… official? Or is this a ‘don’t tell Han’ situation?”
Seungmin’s voice goes flat. “Felix.”
Felix giggles. “Okay, got it. Don’t tell Han. I won’t tell Han.”
You choke on a laugh.
Seungmin hides his face in your shoulder for half a second, like he’s praying for strength, then lifts his head and calls after Felix, voice strained:
“If you tell anyone I’ll actually..”
Felix’s voice floats back down the hall, too cheerful. “I won’t! I swear! I’m a vault!”
The door clicks shut.
Silence again.
You stare at Seungmin. Seungmin stares at the door like it personally betrayed him.
Then you both start laughing.
Seungmin drops back onto his pillow dramatically, arm flung over his face. “I’m never recovering.”
You crawl over him, still laughing, hair falling around your face. “He’s going to tease you forever.”
Seungmin groans. “I hate him.”
You lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth. “You don’t.”
He peeks at you from under his arm, eyes still pink at the ears, but soft again.
“…Stay,” he repeats, quieter now, like Felix didn’t just witness his entire personality.
You smile, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I’m staying.”
His hand finds your wrist and squeezes gently.
“Good,” he murmurs, then pulls you back down into him like he’s decided he doesn’t care who walks in anymore.
And when he kisses you again, it’s still soft. Just a little more determined.
idk who needs to hear this, but low engagement does not mean your writing is bad.
engagement doesn’t solely depend on the quality of the work. whilst it can play a role, other things such as fandom, ship, tags, tropes and posting at the right time of the day/week play a SIGNIFICANT role.
so keep writing what you love. keep writing what makes your heart happy. your work is amazing. the fact that you’re even putting words out there is amazing.
seems like we’ve run into a complication
because you’ve made plans to be on your own
/ or, the one where you and nico get matching tattoos.
word count: 8K
pairing: nico hischier x GN!reader
warnings: mild language, mentions of anxiety, alcohol, tattoos & needles; friends to lovers.
a/n: the @wyattjohnston summer fic exchange strikes again. this fic is for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten. i tried to use some of your favourite tropes, based on the feedback you sent me and previous exchange anons! i also took inspiration from a few of your on repeat songs.
i always love using these exchanges as an opportunity to challenge myself outside of my usual writing style, so i've kept the reader and any OCs gender-neutral, which is new for me. i hope you love it!
this was supposed to be published yesterday, but I tried to post it from my phone, which made the formatting all wonky, and I had to rewrite some of it. sorry!!!
part one: you can tell yourself we're just friends
"I think I've just met the love of my life."
It was the text your best friend, Riley, had sent you after meeting Luca Hischier.
Like some kind of fairytale, they had bumped into each other in a busy train station in Zurich, both running late to their respective trains and not paying attention to where they were going. You weren't there to witness it, but in all the retellings you had heard from the two of them, from the moment they crashed into each other, the rest of the world lost its colour.
Suddenly, all that existed was each other.
No longer worried about missed trains or wrecked plans, they stood in the middle of the train station just talking for so long that Riley's feet started to hurt. They eventually made their way to the small cafe to continue their conversation, and it was only when the crowd of tourists eventually dissipated as the station began to close that they realized how long they had actually been wrapped up in each other. They exchanged phone numbers before reluctantly saying goodbye to run and catch their respective last trains home, before they ended up having to sleep on the floor of the station.
Riley had sent you that text as soon as they had settled into their seat on the train home.
To this day, it still gives you butterflies every time you recall the message, knowing that they were so sure this was the person destined for them, after only knowing them for a few hours.
While you always hoped for the best any time Riley would introduce you to someone new, you could have never anticipated how quickly and how deeply they'd fall in love with each other.
The following weekend, Riley had caught the train up to Biel, where Luca was playing hockey, to spend a few days with him. They were officially inseparable from that moment on.
It was on the journey home from that visit where Riley had texted you, "I want you to meet him, too."
When Luca finally returned to Bern for the summer, they arranged a night out to formally introduce their friend groups. You had come by after work, albeit a bit later than Riley's invitation had listed. By the time you arrived, the small bar was now packed shoulder to shoulder with patrons, and you were silently hoping Riley had the forethought to save you a seat somewhere.
There Riley was, squished into your usual corner booth with a group of faces, none of which looked familiar to you yet. But when Riley saw you making your way over, their entire face lit up, excitedly shoving the boy sitting to their left out of the way so they could climb out of the booth to properly greet you.
Riley shouted your name as you approached, loudly introducing you to the group. "They're my best friend—my platonic soulmate," they proudly declared, "and you're all going to love them!"
Riley went around the circle, rattling off names you never anticipated remembering. Until they ended on the tall sandy-haired boy standing next to them, a well-worn white t-shirt showing off heavily tattooed arms.
"And this is Luca!"
Despite his overall intimidating appearance, once Riley said his name, his face lit up, extending his arms to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. "Riley's been telling me all about you," he greeted once he had placed you back down on your feet. "I'm so excited to finally get to meet you."
From the moment you met Luca, you knew your best friend was right. They were so very obviously madly in love with each other that you suddenly couldn't remember what life had ever been like before they were together. They fit so perfectly into each other's lives.
You met his little brother, Nico, that night, too.
Squished between Riley and Nico in that corner booth, you found yourself making easy conversation with the NHL player. There was something warm about him that didn't make him feel like a stranger. So, while usually a bit shy in large crowds like that, your nerves crumbled away fairly quickly as he laughed at one of your jokes, matching dimples carved into both his cheeks as he smiled.
The longer the night went on, the louder he laughed, and the closer he gravitated toward you. Your thighs were practically glued together, even as friends started to head home, resulting in plenty of space in the once crowded booth to stretch out. You didn't want him to move away, though.
As he stretched to rest his forearm on the back of the seat, you found yourself leaning into his touch. The entire time, he never took his chocolate brown eyes off of you, instead leaning in even closer to hear you over the music.
Was he flirting with you? It felt an awful lot like flirting.
His hockey boy image had that voice in the back of your head doubting his intentions, though. As quickly as the thought popped up, you were talking yourself back down, insisting there was no way you were his type. He must have just been being polite, given how important it probably was to his brother for him to get along with his new partner's friends and family.
But his brother seemed to be very much interested in Riley, your best friend, who you saw so much of yourself in.
Did that mean there was a chance for you, too?
How were you even supposed to know if someone was flirting with you? There was no handbook on how to navigate these kinds of things. But that night, you told yourself to ignore every internal instinct telling you to panic, to shut this down and run for the fences, and you just let yourself exist with Nico.
Nico took the final mouthful of his beer, placing the empty bottle back on the table. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, his mouth opening and then closing a few times as he focused his attention on wiping up the condensation the cold bottle had left on the wooden tabletop.
"You look exactly like Riley described," he had said, almost under his breath.
"What is that supposed to mean?" you had laughed, a bit caught off guard by his comment.
His head shot up. By the speed at which his face began to flush crimson, you got the impression he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
"Nothing! I mean, nothing bad. You're just.. you." Nico smiled despite your skeptical scowl. "It's a good thing, I promise."
And then Nico Hischier fucking winked at you.
That had been four years ago.
It wasn't the beginning of the great love story you had always been hoping for, but it was the start of something new. You and Nico had kept in touch, spending nearly the entire summer together, with Riley and Luca. Apparently, Nico and Luca lived together in the summer, sharing a small apartment in Bern for the offseason. It was technically Luca's apartment, he liked to remind everyone, and he was oh so graciously letting his millionaire NHL superstar brother stay there for free.
You became fast friends, continuing to talk almost every day, even as he left Switzerland to head back to New Jersey for the NHL season.
You had assumed whatever friendship had begun to bloom was going to fizzle out once he was in America, and you didn't have Riley and Luca around to facilitate all your plans together. But he had texted you as soon as his plane landed, and you fell into an unofficial routine where he'd call you as he drove to morning practice and you would always call on your way home from work.
He'd often insist you needed to visit him in Jersey, but something about making that trip felt too real. In your current routine, you could exist in that comfortable grey space between just friends and something more, not needing clarification on how he felt, because the majority of your relationship happened when he wasn't around.
From a distance, this could be whatever you wanted it to be.
Because every summer, he'd return to Switzerland, and you'd be attached at the hip once again.
Rinse. Repeat.
You liked things just the way they were. There was no need to make any drastic declarations or ask questions that you didn't really want to know the answers to. You were in no rush to change things about your unconventional friendship.
Until this summer, when Riley called to excitedly tell you that Luca had gotten down on one knee and asked them to marry him.
Always a romantic, they had insisted on having the wedding on the anniversary weekend of the night all their friends and family had met. It was sure to be a grand affair, with what felt like the entirety of Switzerland having been invited to the lakeside wedding. They had rented a cottage for the week on the most beautiful lake, one that Luca said his family had grown up visiting on school holidays.
With the Alps overlooking the ceremony spot, it was a breathtaking backdrop for this day that had been four years in the making. Everything about this weekend screamed romance—the location, the date, the colour scheme. This was everything Riley (and Luca) deserved, and you could not have been more thrilled to be asked to stand by your best friend's side as they said their vows.
You were getting ahead of yourself, though.
Before you could let yourself get too teary-eyed thinking about what they were going to say in their vows, you had to actually make it to the wedding day.
The rest of the guests were set to arrive tomorrow, and there was a laundry list of last-minute things that needed to be done. But in true Riley fashion, you had woken up that morning to a text from your best friend telling you to clear your schedule.
"Luca has plans for us," was all the message said.
You weren't sure who exactly us was, but you weren't surprised to find the soon-to-be newlyweds and Nico to be the only ones piling into the car that morning. They kept the location of these supposed plans for the day a secret until Luca's rental car was pulling into the parking lot of what could only be described as the tiniest tattoo parlour you had ever seen.
In such a remote Swiss village, you were honestly surprised to even find a tattoo place.
Nico seemed to share the same disbelief as he stepped out of the backseat of the car, shaking his head as he looked between the sign hanging above the door and his older brother. You exchanged a quick look with Riley, who seemed to shrug, as if to say they weren't involved with the planning of any of this. You knew your best friend well enough to know that wasn't true, but Nico ended up speaking up first before you could question what exactly you were all here for.
"Where did you even find this place?" Nico asked, giving you an incredulous look when he heard you giggle. He looked as skeptical as you felt, which was oddly comforting to know you weren't the only one blindsided here.
"Google," Luca admitted with a sheepish shrug. "Tattoo options out here were a bit limited, so we're working with what we got."
"And why are we here exactly?" you asked as Riley shut the car door, Luca clicking the button on the key fob to lock the doors.
"To get a tattoo, obviously," came Riley's dry response.
"To commemorate the moment," Luca corrected, giving Riley a playful shove toward the door.
You looked toward Nico as the two of you trailed behind to the entrance. He seemed unfazed by Luca's explanation, or even by the idea of these plans in general. That had you curiously reaching out to grab his bicep, giving his arm a soft squeeze to get his attention. He instantly fell into step next to you, glancing over with his brows raised.
"Does he usually do this?" you asked. When Nico's brows knit together in confusion, you clarified, "Commemorative tattoos."
"Actually, yes," Nico snorted, earning a giggle from you. "Usually only on vacations, but I guess this weekend counts, too."
You knew that about Luca—Riley had mentioned this a few times before. He loved to get 'vacation tattoos,' as he would call them. Somehow, you had never found yourself roped into one of his group-themed tattoos before, but it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he'd want to do something similar for his wedding weekend.
According to the oldest Hischier sibling, the tattoo itself didn't really need to have meaning. It was more the people and places they represented that mattered most, like a snapshot in time of a perfect memory that he got to carry with him forever.
Nico always went along with it, too. Which was no surprise, he did pretty much everything his older brother did. He only had a couple of tattoos, but you knew for a fact that the one on his ankle matched a similar one on Luca's ankle from a similar situation.
Being no stranger to tattoos, and having already told yourself that this was a weekend to finally get out of your own head and just appreciate these moments with your favorite people, you surprisingly found yourself saying yes and following the group's lead. Your nerves felt a bit more like excited butterflies as Nico held the door open for you, gesturing for you to go first as you ducked under his arm and into the lobby of the shop.
Lobby was a generous word, though.
There was one tattoo bed set up behind the counter, a few feet away, and you were pretty sure if you stretched your arms out wide enough, you might be able to touch both side walls at the same time. You were all instantly squished in, standing shoulder-to-shoulder between Nico and Riley. As if sensing your hesitation, Nico took a small step forward to offer you more space, his hand coming to rest gently on the small of your back, as if to help ground you.
Luca had a quick discussion with the guy behind the counter, recapping that he was the one who had called about the appointments earlier, and that he had booked for some flash sheet special today. The man who you presumed to be the artist pulled out a thick binder from under the counter, blowing some dust off the top before he flipped to a laminated page full of small black and white designs. He briefly explained you could pick from any of the designs within these pages, and then asked who in the group would be going first.
As if they had discussed it earlier, both Riley and Luca immediately pointed to Nico, who looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights when he heard his name being volunteered.
"Wha-what?" he sputtered out.
"Come on," Riley nudged his side, "don't tell me you're backing out now."
"No, I'm not," he groaned, swatting Riley's hand away like a petulant child. "Just thought I'd have a second or two to think about what I want on my body forever."
"Don't think about it too hard," Luca reminded. He stepped aside to usher Nico up to the counter, pushing the binder of designs his way. "Just pick whichever one speaks to you the most."
You watched eagerly from a few steps behind as Nico scanned over the designs, flipping through a few of the laminated sheets. He looked concentrated, and you were appreciative of this moment to unabashedly stare at him as he seemed to be everyone's focus of attention. His thick brows were knitted together as he scanned the pages, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, as he often did when deep in thought. It was one of your favorite things about him, how cute he looked when he was seriously concentrating.
Not to mention the way you could see the expansive muscles in his back flex as he flipped through the pages.
You must have looked like a cartoon character with heart-eyes because you felt Riley's elbow gently shove you, just as Nico looked up from the page and glanced over his shoulder at you. He gave you a wink when you locked eyes, which silenced any comment Riley was about to whisper to you.
"Okay," Nico declared, straightening up and turning back toward Luca. He pointed to one of the flash tattoos, the exact design of which was blocked from your view by the rest of his body. "Let's do this one."
"I knew it," Luca chuckled, clapping his hand on Nico's shoulder.
And with that, Nico was rushed away behind the counter to get set up, allowing for a bit more breathing space in the tiny lobby. Riley excused themself from the shop for a moment, needing to take a phone call from one of the vendors who was having an issue with delivery for tomorrow's ceremony.
You took this as an opportunity to flip through the book, settling on your own design fairly quickly. With ample time still to kill as you waited for Nico's tattoo to finish, you busied yourself with flipping through the rest of the book, admiring the designs this artist had put together.
The sounds of the buzzing tattoo needle faded to the background, a bit like white noise to soothe the chaos in your own mind. You could see now why Luca loved to do this, and why it was a wedding weekend essential. It was just a silly tradition, but with all the other chaos and stress that tomorrow was going to bring, this was offering everyone the brief opportunity to get out of their own heads and have a bit of fun, if only for a moment.
Not that Luca and Riley's wedding was particularly stressful for you.
They had been together forever and worked so perfectly as a couple. You couldn't imagine a life without the two of them together, so their wedding was a logical next step, one you had anticipated for a while.
But then there was always that small voice in the back of your mind, giving space to the anxious thoughts you didn't want to say out loud. Because what if something did change about your dynamic after this? As a married couple, what if they didn't have as much time for you? Would that mean you all saw each other less?
Or, even worse, would that mean you saw less of Nico when you no longer had Luca as your missing link?
You could sense Luca's presence without looking up as he came to stand beside you, looking over your shoulder at the binder. He stood quietly beside you, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, seemingly unable to stay still.
You knew the Hischier siblings well by this point. And you knew when they had something to say, but didn't want to speak up first. They would linger.
Like Luca was doing right now.
"What's on your mind, Hischier?"
He laughed, seemingly caught in the act of his lurking. "Just wanted to see if you needed some help picking one out," he offered.
From the cheeky grin on his face, it was evident that it was a lie, and he knew you weren't buying it. You didn't press him on the blatant lie, letting him use it as an excuse to slowly segue into whatever conversation he actually wanted to happen.
"Nah, I've already picked mine out," you assured him. "I knew right away, just killing time browsing while I have to wait."
He waited for you to flip to the corresponding page, smiling when he saw which tattoo you pointed to. It wasn't much, on the smaller side of the designs to pick from. You also weren't exactly sure what drew you to the design of the small six-sided die.
It didn't have to have any meaning, you reminded yourself. But it did oddly represent just how fortunate you felt to have these people in your life, and when you thought back to this moment in time, that was exactly how you felt—lucky.
"Good choice," was all Luca said. But he didn't leave, telling you he hadn't said what he wanted to say yet.
It took a moment longer, enough time for him to glance up at his brother, who was making polite small talk with the tattoo artist while he worked on the small tattoo on his inner forearm, before Luca turned his focus back on you.
"You know," Luca started. You braced for impact, unsure where he was going to take this. "Nico picked out the same one."
You hoped he didn't notice how your eyes bulged out of your head or that your fingers momentarily fumbled with the edge of the laminated page. You weren't quite sure how you could describe the strangled noise that came from your throat, but Luca's knowing smile only seemed to grow.
"Practically dumb and dumber," Luca had called you two. "Never seen two friends this in sync."
He pinched the shoulder of your t-shirt, giving the threadbare material a soft tug for emphasis. You glanced down at your shirt, or rather, at Nico's shirt.
You had grabbed the first shirt hanging on the line when getting dressed that morning. The same thing you did all the time. It wasn't unusual to wear Nico's clothes. It was almost as if he expected it, seemingly packing more clothes than necessary on every trip. You just didn't think anyone else had noticed, too.
Not wanting to give Luca the satisfaction of seeing how much his small comment had left you shaken, you shrugged your shoulders, flipping to the next page of the flash sheet designs as you did your best to keep the expression on your face neutral.
"Don't let Riley hear you say that," you mocked. "You know they're competitive about everything, and would never let Nico take their spot as my best friend."
That earned a snort of laughter from Luca.
It was a bit of a cop out response, but you were doing your best to try and keep the conversation light. You weren't oblivious to what Luca was actually hinting at, but you also weren't sure if that was a conversation you even wanted to have, especially not right here, right now.
You glanced over your shoulder for a moment, catching a glimpse of Riley pacing in the parking lot, phone still pressed to their ear. Despite the tension evident in their posture, there was still a smile on their face as they continued to pace back and forth. They had remained calm, cool, and collected throughout this entire wedding planning journey. You could only hope to channel a bit of that bravery yourself this weekend.
"Wait until you have to hear Riley say I'm their best friend in their vows tomorrow." Luca's joke pulled you from your thoughts, just as your nerves threatened to teeter over that ever-present edge you seemed to be walking lately.
"No shot." You shook your head, turning back to Luca with a smirk. "Riley could never say that. You're supposed to be honest in your vows."
"Okay, okay. I am trying to be serious here," Luca groaned, rolling his eyes at your joke. "It's just…"
Luca's voice trailed off. You couldn't help but notice his jaw tighten, as if he were grinding his teeth as he chose his following words carefully. It made your breath catch in your throat.
When did you become so dependent on what Luca thought about your friendship with Nico? You had never cared what anyone thought before—never even giving the notion space inside your brain. But Luca was probably the one person in the world who knew Nico best. They had always been similar, and he understood perfectly how his little brother's mind worked.
You had never even considered the possibility that Luca, or anyone, was passing judgment on your dynamic with Nico.
As if he knew you were talking about him, Nico glanced up from where he was watching the tattoo artist wipe away the excess ink pooling on the skin. When his eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up, eyes softening as he smiled at you.
Like a reflex, you returned the smile, hoping Luca hadn't been watching your quick exchange.
"It's nice to finally see him like this," Luca eventually finished.
part two: but this ain't something just friends do
You just loved love.
That was your explanation for the watery smile and constant sniffles as you tried to hold back the waterfall of tears threatening to fall as you watched two of your favorite people exchange their vows. Was there anything more beautiful than seeing two people so obviously destined for each other publicly declare their love for one another in front of their closest friends and family?
Everything about today had been beautiful.
The remote lakeside cottage Luca and Riley had chosen for their venue was the perfect combination of glamorous and laid back to represent their dynamic. They had exchanged vows on an old wooden dock behind the cottage, and then headed up the grassy hill where a tent had been set up for dinner and the reception. Red and white flowers complemented the lavish greenery, and as the sun set, strings of fairy lights and torches illuminated the property with a romantic glow.
You were trying to keep it positive, not spiral out of control, but that was easier said than done.
Riley had been your best friend your entire life. Everything about your dynamic worked so easily, and they were the first person you called with good or bad news, knowing they'd always answer. It was the friendship everyone deserved to experience.
And now they had Luca.
Not that you felt replaced necessarily, but you weren't naive to the fact that something was changing in your life today.
Perhaps it was the overwhelming theme of love that had been woven throughout every piece of this event, which left you feeling so uncharacteristically melancholy. Because, as happy as you were for Luca and Riley, you wanted something like this, too. Maybe not the same grand affair of a wedding, but you wanted that person.
The one you met, and your nerves would melt away. No butterflies or red flags to navigate, hoping they'd like whatever version of you they got.
Just the person that, as soon as you met, your head and your heart would just kind of go 'Ah, there you are—we've been waiting.'
Instead, all that internal monologue seemed to focus on today was when someone inevitably came along and stole Nico's heart next, leaving you wondering where that would leave you.
Watching from the outside as everyone else got their happily ever after, and you never learned to move on or adapt? You had no idea why you were suddenly so torn up over this. You had been fine with this dynamic for years.
Nothing had ever changed. Nothing had ever even hinted at changing. And now here you were, a nervous wreck in your own head on what was supposed to be a day of joy and love.
Luckily, during their vows, when Riley inevitably did call Luca their best friend, just as he said they would, the tears that your eyes welled up with could easily be mistaken for happy tears. And you had managed to hold it together well, not wanting to make a scene or make this day about you in any way.
As beautiful as it was, once the speeches had wrapped up after dinner, you found yourself needing some air.
As the reception party raged on, the DJ put on a slow ballad for all the couples to dance to, offering the perfect ruse for you to slip away unnoticed for a moment. It would just be for a second to clear your head, breathe some fresh air, and then you'd be good as gold to get back out there and celebrate two of the most important people in your life, like they deserved to be celebrated.
Making your way down the grassy hill to the water's edge, the noise of the wedding reception faded to soft background noise. Once at the old wooden dock, you kicked off your shoes as you approached the edge. Settling into a comfortable spot at the end of the dock, you let your feet dangle over the edge, letting yourself focus on the cool contrast of the cold lake water lapping at your ankles against the warm summer evening air.
You weren't sure how long you had been down there, losing track of the number of songs you had heard fade in and out from the party up the hill.
Even with the sound of the wedding raging on behind you, the distance and the still of the lake offered just enough peace and quiet to allow you to collect your thoughts. By the time you heard the soft thud of footsteps coming down the dock behind you, you had already talked yourself to insanity and back more than a dozen times.
You didn't need to look up to know it was Nico approaching, but you still smiled knowingly when you heard him softly call your name.
Hearing the soft clink of ice cubes against glass, you looked down to your left just as he placed a drink by your side—the exact cocktail you had been drinking all night.
"Your favorite," he explained, as if his actions didn't speak for themselves. "Thought I'd find you down here."
You took a sip from the drink to buy yourself a few seconds to mull over your reply. Because, of course, Nico would be the one to notice you had disappeared, and he would know exactly where you had snuck off to. Giving him a weak smile over the rim of the glass, you shrugged your shoulders indifferently. "I just needed some space for a second," you whispered.
"I know."
Of course, he knew.
Nico kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and then rolled the legs of his linen suit pants up. You wordlessly watched him settle into the spot next to you, bare feet hovering just above the water line, mirroring your own position. The moment he sat down beside you, your anxiety seemed to quiet.
He was always like this, and that was part of the problem. No one's presence kept you grounded and sane quiet like Nico did.
"Scheisse," he cursed under his breath as his feet broke the surface of the water. "Sorry, I was not expecting it to be that cold."
You took another sip from your drink to stifle the laugh trying to slip out when he visibly flinched as another gentle wave of water crashed against the dock, bringing the water level up a bit higher to touch the parts of Nico's ankle that were not yet acclimated to the cold water. "You get used to it after a while," you tried to offer.
He shook his head in disbelief, but his signature dimpled smile told you he understood.
You watched him roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, the top buttons already having been undone hours ago in the heat. Attention focused on his fingers as they expertly undid the buttons on his cuffs, like he had done this a million times before, you could suddenly feel his eyes on you. Realizing you had been caught staring, your cheeks began to flush as you abruptly averted your gaze back to look out over the lake again.
"I'm okay, I promise," you rushed out, hoping he might interpret your longing gaze as simply being caught up staring into space rather than actually at him.
"I know," he answered calmly, "I never said you weren't."
You nodded, trying to breathe through the lump you could begin to feel burning in your throat. What a silly thing to allow yourself to get so worked up over, but that had been your MO lately, hadn't it?
There was a pause as you didn't verbally respond—too long of a pause, in your opinion. Nico wasn't saying anything else, wasn't even glancing in your direction. You sat side-by-side, silently staring out over the lake's calm surface.
The longer the quiet went on, the more restless you started to feel. Was Nico waiting for you to say more? That had to be why he came down here, not to just sit here silently.
Where did you even start?
You couldn't tell Nico you were down here thinking about him, and how much you were going to miss him when he hadn't even left yet. And he left every year! This wasn't new. You were supposed to be used to it by now, and he didn't need to be burdened with your sudden fears that something felt different about him leaving this year, especially when you didn't even know what it was that had you feeling this way.
"So…" you tried to start.
Nico chuckled, and you could see him giving his head a slight shake out of the corner of your eye, still too nervous to look over at him directly. "We don't have to talk," he explained.
Finally looking over, you tilted your head, confused.
"I just mean, I know you came down here to clear your head. I'm here to sit with you, that's it," he explained, pausing to take a sip from his own matching drink he had brought down with him. "No sense being alone. Unless you want to be, in that case, just tell me to fuck off and I'll–"
"You can stay," you cut him off. "Thank you."
All Nico did was smile in response. A genuine smile, holding eye contact. You could feel your shoulders falling away from your ears, your body visibly relaxing as you let out a deep breath you hadn't noticed you were still holding.
True to his word, Nico just sat with you.
Feet dangling off the dock, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence. You watched the stars come out over the lake, enjoying the fresh air. Nico took occasional sips from his drink, singing along under his breath to the songs from the wedding reception, the sound carrying down the hill.
As the sun completely disappeared behind the horizon, the lake seemed even more tranquil. There weren't quite enough words to accurately describe just how beautiful and calm the Swiss wilderness was.
Nico couldn't imagine ever being anywhere else. He loved playing hockey in New Jersey, but he looked forward to returning to Switzerland all year.
Because you were here. Nico would go wherever you went.
You couldn't imagine ever living anywhere else, never even feeling tempted by thoughts of leaving Switzerland. Until you had met Nico, that is. And then you found your mind wandering those few months every year when he was gone, about whether it would ever be worth it to try again somewhere else. Maybe you were limiting yourself by not expanding your horizons, quite literally.
"Do you miss this when you're not here?" you heard yourself ask. The words slipped out so casually, as your thoughts eventually bubbled up and over.
"So much," he answered without hesitation. "Jersey is great, but this—this always feels like home."
"I can't imagine being torn between two places like that."
Nico shrugged, and it had you worried for a moment that you had overstepped. Who was to say he ever felt torn? You were probably just projecting your own internal crisis onto him. That would be out of character, Nico always being the brave and composed NHL captain in every scenario life threw at him.
It was easily part of what made him so attractive to you. He exuded uncomplicated confidence, creating the illusion that he was never nervous.
"I see it more as getting to have the best of both worlds," Nico eventually explained. "It could be better, though."
He let his words hang in the air for a moment, taking a gulp from his glass to finish off the remains of his drink.
If you didn't know any better, it looked as though he was trying to muster up some liquid courage before he adjusted his position to turn and face you directly.
"Are you ever going to come out and visit me in Jersey?"
It was a direct question, precisely what your constantly overthinking mind needed. No vague invite of 'you would like New Jersey,' or something similar that would leave you questioning if he was just suggesting a sightseeing trip or if he actually wanted you to come see him.
Nico wanted you to visit him.
Plain and simple.
He was being honest and direct. This felt like as good a time as any for you to be the same.
"Yeah, I should." Nico looked a bit shocked when you actually nodded your head in agreement. Honestly, you were a bit stunned when you heard yourself agreeing. "I keep saying I will, but haven't actually done it. So, I should do it."
He beamed, a dimpled smile that had your limbs feeling a bit like jello, making you grateful to be sitting down so he couldn't see how pathetically weak in the knees he made you.
Your agreement seemed like enough of an answer to satisfy him, not pressing you further for details. Even the hope of you actually agreeing to come see him, to have a bit of you during the season when he missed you so desperately, was enough to keep him going.
Much to your horror, you heard yourself continue talking. As if on autopilot, nervous words kept spilling out, attempting to fill the silence between you.
"I guess I always convinced myself it wasn't a real invitation," you rambled. "It was more of a polite thing you would say to everyone, knowing I'd never take you up on the offer."
"Why wouldn't I want you to visit?" he looked offended as he asked. "When have I ever not been honest with you?"
"I don't know," you shrugged, not quite sure how to put all your thoughts into words. You flinched as you watched a wave of what could only be described as sadness briefly flash across Nico's face. "But you're right. I'd love to visit, and it would be nice to see my best friend more than once a year."
"Is that what you consider us?" The corner of Nico's mouth turned up into the faintest of smirks. "Best friends?"
"What?"
"Are we just friends?"
You were quiet, unsure of what to say.
Was this a trap? It felt an awful lot like a trap. Keeping your gaze facing ahead, your fingers gripped the edge of the dock to try to keep yourself grounded. If you didn't have a grand reaction, maybe Nico wouldn't know how many times you had asked yourself that same exact question.
Unable to look at him for fear he'd be able to see right through your little white lie, you shrugged your shoulders again. "I hadn't thought about it," you mumbled. "Thought we were just us, you know?"
"No, I don't know," he laughed softly. He gently nudged the side of your thigh, forcing you to turn and properly face him. He needed to see your face as he finally told you, "I think about you all the time. And it doesn't feel like just friends to me."
"Oh."
Tightening your grip on the dock's edge, you hoped he couldn't tell how badly your hands were trembling right now. When you tried to turn away, to stare back out at the water, Nico softly grabbed the wrist closest to him, whispering your name to get your attention back.
"This isn't a trap," he reassured you. It was as if he were reading your mind. He always did that. "This is just a conversation, I promise."
"Yeah," you scoffed, "a conversation with the potential to blow up the most important relationship in my life."
"How so?" Nico was so calm as he spoke, unshaken and confident. It was as if he was actually oblivious to all of the ways it was terrifying to finally put your feelings toward him into words, or what this could possibly mean for the two of you as friends.
All he saw was you and how badly he wanted to be with you. Not all of the worst-case scenarios you had been preoccupied with.
"I mean, there's a million ways, Nico!" You let out a breathy, humourless laugh. "You don't feel the same way. Or worse, if you feel the same way, we try this, but it fizzles out, or you realize it wasn't meant for you, and then we can never even be friends again. Which is going to make everything with Riley and Luca awkward because we'll still have to be around each other, until that relationship inevitably becomes too strained, and then it's all just over."
"I think you lied." Nico's voice sounded chastising, but the face-splitting grin told you there was no real malice behind his words. "You have thought about this before."
"Once or twice."
"Is that what you were down here thinking about tonight?"
You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what Nico was doing. He was deflecting from your anxious rant, not bothering to give any weight to your greatest fears. It was something he did often, letting you get all of those dark cloud thoughts out of your head and out into the open, if only for you to hear them back yourself and realize how ridiculous they sounded.
These thoughts didn't sound ridiculous, though. They were still very real possibilities, but Nico didn't seem scared by them. It was as if he had already run through all of these scenarios and determined they were worth the risk of whatever happened next.
That confidence was contagious.
Because if Nico wasn't scared about how he felt about you, why should you hold back out of fear?
He raised his eyebrows expectantly, still waiting for a response.
"More or less," you reluctantly admitted.
The hand wrapped gently around your wrist gave you another soft tug, encouraging you to shuffle a bit closer until your knees were brushing against each other. Both twisted in your seated position, you were still facing each other, but the new lack of distance allowed Nico to lower his voice, his words a secret saved just for you.
"I don't think we've ever been just friends," he repeated for emphasis. "And I'm sorry if that's out of line, or if I've read this entire thing wrong. I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all, but I can't waste another year away from you, kicking myself for not taking one of these opportunities to tell you how I actually feel. To take all these feelings, I think we've both been too nervous to actually acknowledge, and give them some validity here."
At a complete loss for words, the only thing you could manage to sputter out was his name, sounding more like a desperate whine. His calloused thumb rubbed a soothing circle on the back of your hand, tracing over the skin on your wrist where your fresh tattoo was. The lucky die you had gotten yesterday perfectly complemented the matching one on Nico's forearm.
Looking down at the new tattoos, you could feel your eyes begin to prick with tears. How oblivious had you been this entire time that this wasn't blatantly obvious that this was the person for you? The one who calmed the chaos inside your head and had the patience to turn every bad day around.
Of course, it was always going to be Nico.
"I'm all in," he promised.
All you could do was nod your head in agreement, not trusting your own voice.
"I'm all in—at your pace," he whispered. "Always at your pace."
You leaned in first.
It was hesitant, as you would expect from two people who had danced around this moment for far too long. Nico didn't meet you halfway; instead, he waited, eyes searching yours to be absolutely sure that this was real. To be sure that you wanted this, too. When your foreheads finally touched, you could feel him exhale a shaky, relieved breath.
His thumb stilled on your wrist, as if even he wanted to pause and commit this feeling to memory.
The first kiss was soft, just the lightest brush of lips.
Nico's hand came up to cup the side of your face, fingers threading gently through your hair. You felt him smile, actually smile, against your mouth, and something in your chest finally cracked wide open.
The kiss deepened quickly, with a kind of quiet desperation that made you dizzy. When Nico ducked his head down, the angle shifted just enough to steal your breath with a quiet gasp into his mouth. Your hands clutched onto the undone collar of his dress shirt without thinking, desperately needing him as close as physically possible to you.
You had waited long enough for this moment, and you never again wanted to imagine a life where you didn't get to kiss Nico like this.
When you finally broke apart, Nico leaned forward to chase your lips for one last quick peck. Your foreheads still resting together, Nico's thumb soothingly rubbed along your cheekbone as you exchanged shy smiles.
"Finally," you managed to exhale, earning a soft laugh from Nico.
It wasn't the big, emotional declaration he had given you, but it said enough.
You were always enough for him, just the way you were.
Watching from the top of the hill, Riley rested their head on Luca's shoulder.
Knowing you two were completely oblivious to your audience, they couldn't help but smile at the sight before them. They had come looking for you, ready to remind you both about needing to be back up at the party in 5 minutes for the ridiculous dance Riley had insisted on everyone learning. But now, seeing the two of you together, they couldn't bear the thought of being the one to interrupt.
Not when this had been so long in the making.
"Finally," Luca chuckled, taking the words right from Riley's mouth.
All joking aside, he had been honest when he had told you yesterday that it was nice to finally see Nico like this. To see his younger brother, who meant the world to him, this unabashedly happy. He had known you two were the perfect counterparts for each other from the moment Riley had introduced you.
There was never a doubt in his mind about whether you would get together; it was always just a question of when.
"They're so cute together," Riley cooed. "I told you they'd be the perfect pair."
"I think we should leave them be," Luca whispered, giving Riley's hip a soft squeeze.
"You're right," they sighed, reluctantly straightening up. "And I'll pretend to be surprised tomorrow when they tell us all about it."
"Nah, nothing is surprising about that." Luca extended his hand for Riley to grab, intertwining their fingers before turning to head back to the party. "Nico always knew what he wanted."
"How so?"
Luca laughed for a moment, glancing back over his shoulder to catch one final glimpse of his younger brother. "Did I ever tell you what he said to me after the first time they met?"
Riley raised their eyebrows, silently encouraging Luca to continue.
He couldn't fight the smile on his face as he recalled the text he had received from his brother all those years ago, entirely out of the blue. But no context was needed because Luca knew it, too. He saw the way Nico came to life in a whole new way the moment you took the seat in the booth next to him.
I don't know what prompted me to think of this, but I realized today that I’m not sure I ever reblogged this and thanked you! So I hope late is better than never
I absolutely ADORE this fic! It's so perfectly tailored for me and you did such an amazing job. I love the way it shows all the different characters' perspectives throughout, and the way that you articulated the emotions and thoughts everyone is having! It's so so cute and I’m such a sucker for matching tattoos. This is my second read-through and I think I'll definitely have many more!
one thing about sports rpf that sets it apart is that these aren't about supernaturally beautiful people like actors and musicians and kpop idols are which is practically a criteria for any media facing job; made to be aesthetically beautiful and trained to be charismatic. athletes are often charisma vacuums because they start so young and are hyperfixated on their sport and have no personality beyond it. most of them are actually quite plain looking. there's some notable exceptions of genuinely stunning face cards but most are pretty average and the ones that are considered hot are actually hot for An Athlete. now I know some of you are disagreeing vehemently, blorbo from sportsball is the prettiest of them all, but really it's cause sports fans have so much exposure therapy to them, seeing the same faces all the time over a year and engaging in media about them, that they start finding beauty in the mundane where when you get to know someone you realise they're actually beautiful to you. now there is a notable scale where the more popular a sport/team/athlete is, the more they have entire hair and makeup departments for magazine shoots and interviews where they are styled or at least aware of what hairstyle or way to carry themselves looks good on them, and that adds to their overall attractiveness. scale down and you'll see someone calling a male cyclist with fucked up teeth who looks like a product of balkan incest a gorgeous girl. and that's how you get novel length and often better quality written rpf about dudes who look like in every other life were destined to the local town's convenience store cashier bored out of his mind at a gas stop in between your road trip you'd never spare a second thought of again. and I think that's beautiful <3
Fandoms stopped being a fun escape from reality when people started spreading the belief that you should prioritize purity over pleasure and the art you create must be a reflection of your moral standards at all times.
oh hi, A — it’s your summer fic exchange anon here! ☀️ i have a couple of questions for you, to help make sure i write a fic that you’ll absolutely love.
from your player list, do you have a top three for me to pick from: Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, Miro Heiskanen, Cale Makar, Sidney Crosby, Quinn Hughes, Matthew Tkachuk, Andrei Svechnikov, Leon Draisaitl
what are your favourite tropes to read?
what songs have you been playing on repeat lately?
dream holiday destination?
are there any personal traits or easter eggs you’d like to see me work into the fic?
Hi anon!! Pleased to make your acquaintance
1. Top three would be Nico, Jack, Sid!
2. I love friends to lovers, friends-with-benefits to lovers, idiots in love, sharing clothes, everyone knows but them, and much more! There are very few tropes I dislike
3. NOPE! by New Rules, Just Friends by The Strike, I Want to Be With You by chloe moriondo, like I do by Nightly, I’M IN LOVE!! by Sub-Radio
4. I've always wanted to go to Aotearoa/New Zealand (I want to see the Shire set so badly) and Germany!
5. I always love to see alt style like piercings, tattoos, short/dyed hair, because I feel like it's rare to see and that's what I look like lol also I like taller readers- just things that aren't common in fic! Also if you end up doing Jack, you could have a little Quinn Easter egg if you wanted :)
I Wanna Meet You But It's Too Soon (Matthew Tkachuk)
a/n: once again, under the wire, this is for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten by way of @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange! apologies for the delays but January has been kicking my teeth in. I hope you enjoy, the title is from "Dance Class" by Good Kid which I do recommend listening to for the Vibes.
Weddings were exhausting.
Didn’t matter if you were in them, attended them, or working them, it was almost a truth universally acknowledged that weddings were exhausting. Why weren’t we all just getting married in courthouses and running away to the honeymoon? Why the pomp? The circumstance? I suspected I could blame the Victorians (and if not them, then the industrial revolution), and if I wasn’t trying to lose my mind in this reception hall I would pull my phone out to google it.
Traditionally, I wouldn’t have been here, just sent a gift from the registry and a personalized note. But college roommate pacts were hard to escape. Jenny, my college roommate from freshman year to the day we graduated and perhaps the person who knew me best outside of my childhood friends and my dog, and I had made a pact our junior year to attend each other’s eventual weddings. Even though I’d tried to argue that I was highly unlikely to actually have one, she had insisted. The provisos had been implemented to dodge my eventual excuses, that “knowing me too well” coming back to bite me as she stated that barring world ending natural disasters, genuine travel hang ups, or cruel bosses to be fed to crocodiles, I couldn’t skip.
So when she held her ceremony in Orlando in April, essentially dodging any potential world ending disasters, the planes not having been delayed, and my work giving me the weekend and change off, I had no choice but to attend with my best formal clothing and a pair of sensible shoes.
It’d been a beautiful ceremony, Jenny being a borderline Disney Adult since graduation had shelled out the massive bill to book the wedding venue at The Grand Floridian at Disney World, the reception, and the catering. It was only by a miracle (and her having too many cousins) that I wasn’t in the actual wedding party and was just allowed to attend as a guest, saving me from any of the other mayhem that would’ve come with the day. For that I thanked her, because I am not the person you want in a “dealing with cold feet because you don’t want to deal with emotions” sort of person. Mostly because I had the same problem. People who advised you to “listen to your gut” have never had their gut tell them they were being hunted by slow tigers anytime they left the house.
The reception on the other hand was a beast, Jenny and her new husband (a guy who I’d never met and probably would’ve sold for a corn chip, but in a boring way) thanked me for coming with all her usual enthusiasm and brightness that I expected. It made me feel younger and lighter than I expected, whipping me back to college the way that some friends could.
“Thank you for hanging up your introversion for an evening,” she said as she held me by my forearms and beamed with a smile that could only be her teasing.
“For you of course,” I replied with a fake posh tone and a laugh. I had missed her, moving away for work for the both of us had been killer and we both swore that if a job popped up in one another’s city we would be there in a heartbeat.
“Drink, get around, find someone cute,” she squeezed my arms and I managed to hold back an eye roll. I knew that this was going to be the situation since I RSVP’d without a plus one. Jenny was constantly the one at a party pushing me to talk to the person across the room who I would on and off stare out over the course of the night. It was practically tradition when we were younger. Her success rate of actually getting me over was lower than she’d like, but she still tried everytime. I tapped her arms and smiled.
“Don’t worry about me, go greet your other guests, your mother looks about ready to burst,” I said, noticing Stacy, Jenny’s mother, looked like she was trying to reel her daughter in with a fishing line if she didn’t get over in the next minute and a half. Jenny mouthed pray for me as she took her husband, who’s name I still didn’t remember, over to her.
As I watched them go over and soothe Stacy’s panic, my eyes continued to drift around the room and landed on someone who might’ve looked familiar but I couldn’t remember why for the life of me. With curly hair that looked like it was maintained on a technicality, a smile that was somewhere between mischief and humor at the expense of the person they were talking to, and a glass of amber liquid that I had to assume was probably scotch, he was appealing. In the way that one would admire a stranger at a bar who’s off limits. My only partial recognition meant it was possible that he was one of Jenny’s guests, but it was hard to tell. Maybe I’d seen him in one of her once a month Instagram photo dumps? Again, my desire to fish my phone out of my pocket to check was strong, but I resisted. I was trying to be better about not retreating into it in social situations, even if it was all that kept me from bailing into the bathroom to hide from overstimulation.
I hadn’t noticed I was staring until as I tilted my head trying to wrack my brain as to where the hell I recognized him from, he caught my gaze with that mischief humored grin turned to me. I had the decency to grin in what was probably on par with my internal embarrassment. He raised his glass to me and I managed a half wave and turned back to my table and studied the intricacies of the table cloth, trying to see if I could spot the hidden mickeys in the pattern. Ignore me, please ignore me, I do not need to get into an argument about manners with a complete and utter–
“Trying to check the thread count?” A masculine voice asked next to me. My head shot up and sure enough it was curly with the amber liquid smiling at me. Checking the thread count was actually probably a better excuse in literally any other situation, but here we were.
“Uh… no. Trying to find hidden Mickeys actually.” I said turning back, wishing I had a drink of my own to throw back and at least give my hands something to do other than mess with the fidget ring on my left hand. He took the seat next to me and looked down at the table cloth, joining me in my probably fruitless endeavour.
“Any reason as to why?” He asked, setting his glass down in my eyeline as if to signal he wasn’t immediately interested in getting back up and moving again. Which… could be promising in my favor? Maybe? Oh who the fuck am I kidding, this guy was handsome but radiated an energy that wasn’t promising on my end. This was something he did a lot, chatting up people in social situations; whereas I was much more of a fantasize via the human version of the treachery of images.
“I uh… didn’t mean to get caught staring and figured it was a good enough line to get you to pass me by?” I answered just a dash too honestly.
“Well, that’s fair, but I didn’t mind,” that got me to actually look at him proper, cataloging details you couldn’t see from across the room like bright blue eyes, a small gap between his front two teeth, and a smidgen of scruff growing in.
“Would it be unbecoming of me if I called you a liar about that?”
“Eh, no, but it’s true.” He said. He finally offered up his hand, calloused and bigger than mine, “Matthew, friend of the groom.”
I shook it and offered up my name, “friend of the bride.” This still didn’t explain his vague familiarity but maybe he just had one of those faces.
The DJ had swapped tracks to something a little more retro than his previous offerings and I almost blessed Jenny’s crops forever as the opening riff of This Charming Man began to play through the speakers. Matthew seemed to notice me perk up and offered his hand again.
“Wanna dance?” He asked, a bright grin tempting me more than the actual words. Well, Jenny did say I needed to mingle.
“Yeah alright,” I said, taking his hand again as we both found our way to the dance floor. Unfortunately for Matthew I knew every word to the song (a Smiths phase in late high school and early into college I wasn’t completely proud of) and couldn’t help but sing along as we spun and got into each other’s spaces. It was warm, it was fun, I once again managed to try to forget that Morrisey was a shit human being as Johnny Marr’s guitars did most of the heavy lifting. To his credit, Matthew didn’t seem to mind, laughing alongside my craziness and keeping up with some amount of surprising vigor. By the time the song ended I was pulled in closer to him than we’d started and everything felt like it was buzzing. I’m not one for love at first sight, but affection? Attraction? Those I could account for and I felt it, even if I did also feel a large portion of my body and brain also want to sprint to the other side of the room.
“Is now a good time to posit the theory that wedding receptions are just… prom for adults?” I posited to try and distract from the everything else my brain was trying to contend with.
Matthew just laughed, “I could see that, what’s the after prom?” He asked.
“Probably everyone dividing off and ending up in the wrong hotel rooms.” I replied.
“True, with about as much caution.” He joked along.
The DJ, in his infinite wisdom, slowed the floor for the following song. I took a step back from where I’d ended up and prepared for the inevitable thanks for the dance, see you around, instead I got another offered hand.
“Don’t you think it’s too soon?” I teased, “I mean, I don’t know if I’m one to slow dance on the first… encounter.” Calling it a date would be far too forward, and even if I was to make a joke out of it, that could end up backfiring spectacularly.
“Consider it part of that lack of caution that comes with pretending it’s all adult prom,” he said. So, with no better offer in sight, I bit back my anxiety for one more song and took his hand again, where we quickly fell into an acceptable enough dance form. As close as we were now, I found myself again stumbling over why Matthew looked so familiar. If he was one of the groom’s guests, did I actually know the groom better than expected? Shit, was he a reconnected college boyfriend I forgot about? Childhood friend who moved when I was still forming cognitive memories? Guy I met in a hotel pool once while on vacation where we bonded as if we’d always known each other only to never exchange more than names?
“I can see the gears turning in your head, what’re you thinking about?” He asked just loud enough to be heard over the music but not enough to eavesdrop on, which was a courtesy I appreciated if nothing else.
“I’m trying to figure out why the hell you look familiar,” I said as he carefully maneuvered us from running into another couple, a quick glance over his shoulder revealing Jenny and her husband, Jenny winking when she caught my eye. Matthew let a low chuckle escape him and the proximity allowed me to feel it too and I tried not to feel a little flustered about that. It’d been since I was like… nine and at summer camp since I’d danced with someone like this. My childhood friends and I skipped homecoming and prom was spent mostly dancing with ourselves as one big group. So sue me, I was a bit out of practice when it came to this.
“I don’t know, do you live in the area?”
“No, but I used to vacation here a lot as a kid,” my parents were Disney Adults before Disney Adults were even a thing, so I practically knew parts of the resorts and parks like the back of my hand.
“Hm… are you into sports?”
“I picked up hockey a few years ago as what my mom calls a “water cooler topic” so I didn’t risk outing myself as a complete nerd to coworkers and to have something to talk about other than the weather and politics,” I said. That said I was more of a casual fan, knew a couple of players, had a tee or two gifted to me by people who knew nothing else about me, could not tell them apart without their names and numbers on their back.
“Who’re your teams?” He asked, again with the smile of mischief and humor and definitely in on something I hadn’t caught onto yet. I narrowed my eyes at him as his grin got a bit toothier and immediately felt embarrassed. There it was. I just barely managed to avoid dropping my face into his shoulder, a gesture that felt too familiar for the current situation and my hands around his neck were about the only thing that kept me from hiding my face in them.
“Tkachuk right? I think I caught some of the Cup run games,” I said trying to not crack up at my own face blindness.
“I’m just impressed you didn’t notice sooner,” he said as his own laugh leaked into his tone. We’d been doing a lot of that together huh? It was a positive sign for someone like me who put a smidge too much of their self worth into being able to make people laugh. “Honestly, I’d be sick of my face if I wasn’t acclimated to it.”
“I don’t know, it has its appeal,” I remarked, somehow mustering up half the courage to be bold and actually try complimenting the arguably attractive guy who’d chosen to take an interest in me for the evening.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t say anything sooner because like… let’s face it, it'd be very embarrassing if I was wrong right?” I said with a tilt of my head, the song we were dancing too was probably going to wind down any minute and then we’d be really in a pickle.
“Probably yeah,” he said with a half shrug, “hopefully I’ve now made enough of an impression for future encounters.”
“Future encounters?” I asked. Not being presumptuous was one of my notable features, and yet…
“Well, when do you head out of here?”
“Like, out of the wedding or out of Florida?”
“The latter,” he said with a playful grin and a small stroke of my lower back with his thumb. Did he know that I needed to be grounded to avoid lying? Or did I just look more like a spooked deer than I was trying to let on.
“Two days from now? I didn’t know how long I was going to be hungover so I don’t fly back until Tuesday.” I said. Open bars and I were actually pretty okay, I was what one college friend called a “control drinker” meaning I usually cut myself off before I got even the faintest glimmer of tipsy. But I had hoped it’d eased up with age and by having better taste in alcohol. But seeing as I hadn’t had anything since the champagne and cocktails with dinner, that plan wasn’t going as I expected. Matthew seemed to mull something over before nodding to himself once and trying to pull me just a smidge closer.
“Pick a park and we’ll go,” he said.
“Seriously?” I asked with more of a raised eyebrow than even I would’ve liked, but I couldn’t help it, I wasn’t the type of person to get asked out at a wedding let alone by someone I actually found attractive. It was unheard of, bordering on unbelievable, that I almost looked to see if there were new fake plants I hadn’t noticed before for people to jump out of. But I steadied myself, taking a deep breath, knowing that this rabbit hole wasn’t healthy in any capacity. “Yeah alright, Hollywood Studios. And you will unfortunately learn too much about Star Wars by the end of it.” I said with a laugh.
“I think I can live with that.” Mathew said with a grin.
We navigated ourselves off the dance floor and exchanged numbers for the following day and I had to stare and wonder at the whole ordeal as he walked off to talk to his friends with the agreement he’d text me in the morning.
This is so good, I’m actually obsessed with it. I've read it like three times now; I wish I could go back and read it for the first time again oh my god
So cute, so fun, so in character for Matthew. Absolutely adore this
My fic for @thewintersoldierdisaster for the Winter Fic Exchange by @wyattjohnston !
Okay so first of all, I'm so sorry that this is late! Between getting called into work, my computer deciding to act up, and having pneumonia, I got a little behind schedule. It's also a shorter fic- I hope that's okay! Fic is inspired by the song If Only for Tonight by Vacation Manor.
Rating: G
Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/Reader
Words: 1835
Warnings: none
Summary: Sometimes the world feels a little too small. Sometimes you don't feel real. Matthew helps.
The stars are bright above, and the road is empty for miles ahead.
It’s an occasional occurrence, going on a special drive with Matthew. You know that this kind makes him a bit nervous. So you only ask for it when the restlessness really settles in. When you start to itch down to your bones, when your skin feels too small for your body, when this city feels too small for your life. Your legs feel tight with the urge to run, your hands yearning to grab the wheel and drive far away. To go to a new place, somewhere no one knows you or expects anything from you or asks when you’re going to settle down. You don’t want to settle, you want to run, to feel your heart pound and leap into your throat with adrenaline. You want excitement, want the rush, want to feel something again– to feel alive for once.
It all feels fake sometimes. The city a cardboard cutout, the people passing by all extras on a film set. Your job just a way to pass the time between now and death.
Being with Mattthew helps. His presence makes things seem more solid; the touch of your hands making your heart skip a beat, even after all this time. You know that it’s not the same for him, that you’re just a friend to him, that hugging you doesn’t feel the same for him– like you can feel again, like you’re being brought back to life from a year of living in a painfully boring dream.
But when you call, he answers. He hops in his car, picks you up with a smile that’s both sly and soft. Like he knows how you feel, like he’s intimately familiar with the need to go, now, and he feels bad that it’s come back. The look tonight like– like he’s feeling it too. Like he needs this as much as you do.
He’d been nervous about it at first. He was convinced that he would mess up, would spin out and hurt you, or crash and kill you both. You’d gone back and forth about it, until you’d looked at him with a steady gaze and your chin raised high.
“You trust me, right?” you’d asked, waiting for his affirmative response before continuing, “And I trust you, and have full confidence in your abilities. So if you can’t trust yourself, you can trust me.”
“Believe in yourself by proxy,” you’d finished with a smile. His eyes had widened for a second as you spoke, then scrunching up with his smile as he lightly shook his head.
“Okay,” he finally agreed, the gap between his front teeth showing as he grinned at you, “Okay.” you don’t add the second part that echoes in your head. The part that says even if we crash and die, I’ll die doing what I love most: holding your hand.
That part is best kept in your mind.
He’d given in and tucked you into the car, playfully smiling at you as he pulled on your seatbelt and let it snap back against your chest. Gotta make sure that you’re safe, he’d said. You’d just beamed back at him, snapping his seatbelt in return, making him laugh. Precious cargo, you’d quipped, taking his right hand in your left as you took off at a reasonable speed, making your way to the quiet country roads outside of the city.
You’ve gone on a few of these drives since then, the pressure in your chest getting so heavy that you worry your ribcage might collapse every few months. Matthew is always there, bundling you into the car and testing the seatbelt. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, he says, I’ll always keep you safe. You believe him. The only time you’ve ever felt safe in your life has been when you’re by his side.
The city lights have faded away, revealing a sea of stars painted across the inky black sky. Matthew squeezes your hand once and it’s all the warning you get. The car jumps forward, jerking you back in your seat. Zero to sixty in half a breath, the car manufacturer should advertise. Your heart rate skyrockets as your head is pressed into the upholstered rest behind it. The warm air turns cool as it rushes in through the lowered windows, rushing across your face and whipping up your loose t-shirt. You clutch the handhold above the window, letting out a pure, elated scream as you come back to your body. You laugh, loud and wild and free as your ecstatic mind repeats– I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.
The road is winding, throwing you back and forth in your seat as Matthew expertly weaves around corners. He blows through a dilapidated stop sign, the tires screeching as he takes a hard right. He slams the gas again as he comes out of the turn and you laugh, hysterically happy.
Matthew is smiling too, bright and endearing, laughing loudly even as his eyes are sharply focused on the road. His laugh is the best thing you’ve ever heard, better than any song in history. You could die happy, you think, as long as you got to be the one who made him laugh for a little while.
He’d dropped your hand as he approached the intersection, needing both hands to turn the wheel so sharply. Your hand had fallen to his thigh, gripping his quad tightly, holding on for dear life and for once, allowing yourself to enjoy the feel of the unyielding muscle under your fingers, the warmth of his skin against yourself where two of your fingers have landed below the hem of his shorts. Usually you don’t let yourself think about it too much when you touch, not willing to face the way it makes you want. Want his skin on yours, his hands and lips pressed onto every inch of your body. Want him wrapped around you so tightly that you meld together, become one being, kept in stasis by love. Want to crawl inside his chest and curl up around his heart. Is there a place for you there?
You try not to think about it.
There’s a field to the left up ahead, acres of dirt and tall grass, and you know what’s about to happen. Knowing doesn’t stop you from jumping as Matthew jerks the wheel, careening off the road into the empty space, zooming out toward the middle of the field. The car rattles as it runs over rocks and dips in the ground, shaking the anxiety out of your body. Matthew throws the wheel in the opposite direction, the car losing grip and spinning wildly. Nothing could stop the laugh that bursts out of you as the centrifugal force pushes you over into Matthew’s space, your seatbelt locking up just in time to keep you from crashing into his side.
You spin once, twice, three times before Matthew turns the wheel again and you skid to a stop. You slump back in your seat once the car settles, letting your head fall all the way back to rest on the shoulder of the backrest. Your heart is pumping so hard it almost hurts, your heartbeat evident down to your fingers and toes. Breathy chuckles escape you as the vibrating under your skin fades, the need to run evaporating with the adrenaline.
After long moments, you turn your head to look at Matthew, finding his eyes already on you. His lips are stretched around a fond smile, his eyes so bright and soft in the low light of the full moon. Your traitorous heart jumps at the look he’s giving you. Hazy yet somehow sharp, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you in this moment, trying to burn your relieved smile into his irises. He’s looking at you like– like he feels the same as you. Like he loves you.
“The stars are beautiful out here,” you say, knowing you haven’t looked up since meeting his gaze. His smile turns soft. He doesn’t look away from you.
“Yeah,” he says, low and quiet, “Beautiful.” You can feel the heat in your cheeks, down your neck. You look away, unable to bear the sight of him for another second. The stars are actually beautiful, a million pinpricks of light splashed across the sky. The moon is huge and bright, and you know how it looks brushed across the planes of Matthew’s face, even without looking at him.
The want to run has passed, banished for at least a few months, hopefully. It’s replaced with a different want, a persistent yearning that’s lived in you for years. To reach out, to touch, to hold, to take and pull close and never let go.
You’ve been trying not to think about it.
“What are you thinking about?” Matthew asks. He places his hand over yours on his thigh, grips and twists until he can thread your fingers together. Warmth spreads through you and you look back to him. His skin is silver with moonlight, dark with shadow like the sky, freckles dotted across his cheeks like stars. You’re not sure if it’s bravery, or foolishness, or absence of mind that makes you say it.
“I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend that I don’t love you,” you confess. It’s easier than it should be. Feels like an exhale, a warm cup of tea, laying down after a long day. Letting it out. Letting go.
Matthew’s eyes widen, jaw dropping open. He stares at you with those beautiful blue eyes, two spots of daylight in the dark. He inhales deeply, lips turning up at the corners as he lets the breath out.
“You love me?” he asks, face splitting into a wide smile when you nod.
“You love me too,” he says, awed, as if he’s trying to convince himself of this face, Your brain sticks on the last word. Too.
“You love me too,” you repeat in turn, inhaling sharply when he looses a disbelieving laugh.
“Of course I love you,” he says, squeezing your hand so tightly that the bones shift. The sting of it is the best thing you’ve ever felt.
“Of course I love you,” you parrot. You think for a second that your face will break open from the force of your smile. But at least it seems that his might as well. That both of you might break open together.
“Of course,” Matthew says, leaning into your space as you pull yourself up to meet him.
“Of course,” you whisper against his lips.
On the way home, he drives normally. Holding your hand, looking over at you every few seconds, as if he can’t believe that he’s going home with you. Going home with you.
Your heart beats a steady rhythm, a mantra: I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.
The stars are bright above, and the road is empty for miles ahead.
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