Off Campus Preferences🏒🐻 - first i love you
a/n: i'm back with a little something♡ please bare with me and my inconsistent posting atm. it's soccer time and i'm currently watching every match of the world cup i can😁 is anyone still interested in off campus? because i'm still not over it. i also might have went a bit overboard with logan, but he's my fave, soooo... enjoy reading♡
Garrett Graham, Dean Di Laurentis, John Logan, John Tucker
°•⊹♡Garrett hates being sick. Not because of the fever or the pounding headache, but because being sick means he’s sidelined. It means admitting that he can’t handle everything on his own. He has spent most of his life proving he can carry the weight of the team, his future, and his demons on his own back, and trusting someone else takes a lot for him.
°•⊹♡so when he wakes up with a brutal fever after a rough game and a long night, he tries to play it off. Grumbles that it’s “just a cold,” attempts to drag himself to practice anyway, and nearly face-plants in the hallway on the way there.
°•⊹♡you're not having it. You show up with soup from the dining hall and medicine, and before he can argue, you’re already steering him back to bed, fluffing his pillows so he can rest. He complains the whole time, of course. “Babe, i'm fine. You don't have to do this.” But his voice is raspy and weak, and the way he sinks into the mattress contentally betrays his though exterior.
°•⊹♡he tries to push you away at first, muttering that he doesn’t need to be babied, but you're firm, and something in your calm determination makes him stop fighting so hard.
°•⊹♡for the next few days you become his personal nurse. You bring him food, force him to eat, and sit on the edge of his bed while he dozes in and out of feverish sleep. You keep the lights low when his head hurts and make sure he stays hydrated even when he grumbles about it.
°•⊹♡you stay through the restless nights when the fever spikes and he tosses and turns. You wipe the sweat from his brow with a cool cloth and murmur soothing words until he settles again. He pretends to hate it, but actually, he clings to every gentle touch.
°•⊹♡Garrett isn’t used to this. He's the one who takes care of people: the captain, the protector, the guy who holds everything together. Having someone choose to take care of him feels foreign. Dangerous, almost. Like if he gets too used to your presence, he won’t know how to go back to doing it all alone.
°•⊹♡he watches you through half-lidded eyes as you move around his room, organizing medicine and adjusting blankets, and wonders why you're willing to put up with all of this for him.
°•⊹♡at first, he tells himself you're only staying because you're worried. That once he's feeling better, everything will go back to normal. But then one day turns into two. Two turns into three. And every time he wakes up, you're still there; sometimes dozing in the chair, sometimes curled up beside him with a book.
°•⊹♡you never make a big deal out of it either. You don't ask for thanks. Don't complain about the time you're spending with him. You simply show up, sit beside him, brush his hair back when it sticks to his forehead, and act as though taking care of him is the most natural thing in the world.
°•⊹♡on the third night, the fever finally breaks. He’s exhausted, but for the first time in days, his thoughts feel clear. You're curled up in the chair beside his bed, reading quietly while he watches you over the top of his blanket.
°•⊹♡you could have left hours ago; you have your own life after all, your own responsibilities. Instead, you're still here in one of his hoodies, legs tucked beneath you, completely absorbed in your book while occasionally glancing up to make sure he's okay. The soft glow of the lamp illuminates your face, and in that quiet moment, Garrett feels his carefully built walls start to crumble.
°•⊹♡and that's when it hits him.
°•⊹♡you're not here because he's the captain. Not because he's Garrett Graham the hockey star. Not because of his reputation, his future, or the expectations that seem to follow him everywhere he goes. You're here because it's him. Because even when he’s exhausted, grumpy, sweaty, sick, and about as far from charming as a person can get, you still look at him like he’s someone worth staying for.
°•⊹♡he shifts slightly on the bed, drawing your attention away from your book. “Hey...” he says, voice still rough around the edges. You immediately look up. “Hey baby. Need something?”
°•⊹♡Garrett just stares at you for a second. He's played in championship games. Taken shots with thousands of people watching. Faced pressure that would make most people crack. None of it has ever made him feel as exposed as this.
°•⊹♡“you're still here,” he says quietly. Your smile softens instantly. “Of course i am. Where else would i be?”
°•⊹♡and just like that, whatever wall he was trying to hold onto finally gives way. “I love you.” The words leave his mouth before he can overthink them. Before he can question them. Before he can decide whether now is the right time to lay his heart bare. His eyes widen slightly, almost surprised by his own honesty, before a breathless laugh escapes him. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.
°•⊹♡“fuck,” he mutters, a helpless smile tugging at his lips. “I love you so much.”
°•⊹♡your breath catches, heart skipping in the best possible way; a rush of warm, giddy shock is blooming in your chest because you weren’t expecting those words from him tonight, but god, they feel exactly right.
°•⊹♡you abandon your chair without hesitation and climb carefully onto the bed beside him, mindful of his lingering aches. The second you're close enough, Garrett's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him like it's the easiest thing in the world.
°•⊹♡your fingers trace gently along his jaw, and the way he leans into the touch makes your heart ache. “I love you too, Garrett,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “And for the record? I'm exactly where i want to be.”
°•⊹♡he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, like the words have finally unlocked something deep inside him. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his hold. For someone who has spent years keeping everyone at arm's length, this kind of closeness feels both terrifying and desperately needed.
°•⊹♡in the quiet that follows, he realizes this is what he's been missing; not just someone to lean on, but someone who makes leaning on them feel like strength instead of weakness. Someone who sees all his rough edges, all the parts he’s tried so hard to hide, and stays anyway.
°•⊹♡“i've never let anyone see me like this,” he admits quietly. “Sick. Weak. Needing help. I always thought it would make me less… but with you it doesn't. It just makes me feel human. It makes me feel loved.”
°•⊹♡you smile softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek as you stay curled against him. “You don't have to be strong every second, not with me, Garrett. You're allowed to just be. I've got you.”
°•⊹♡he closes his eyes for a moment, forehead resting against yours. The steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of your body pressed to his, the certainty in your voice - it all settles the aching feeling in his chest. For the first time in a very long time, he lets someone else carry the weight. And somehow, wrapped up in your arms, it doesn't feel scary at all.
°•⊹♡it feels like peace. Like coming home after carrying the world on his shoulders for far too long. Like the start of something he never knew he was allowed to have.
°•⊹♡outside the room, the world keeps spinning, but right now none of it matters. Right now there’s only the two of you, tangled together in his bed, hearts finally open and honest with each other. Garrett presses one more lingering kiss to your forehead, breathing you in, and allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to do everything alone anymore.
°•➵♡Dean has always been good at making people laugh. It's one of the things people love most about him, because he knows exactly how to make a room feel lighter. Most of the time, it's effortless. With you, though, it's different. Because making you laugh isn't just fun - it has somehow become one of his favorite sounds in the world.
°•➵♡the two of you are supposed to be studying. At least, that was the plan when you showed up at the house an hour ago. Unfortunately, neither of you has touched a textbook in nearly forty-five minutes. Instead, you've been distracting each other so thoroughly that even attempting to study now feels pointless.
°•➵♡it starts with a stupid comment. Then another. And before you can even stop it, you're arguing over something completely ridiculous, both of you stubbornly defending your positions despite neither of you actually caring who wins. At this point, the argument exists purely because neither of you is willing to let the other have the last word.
°•➵♡“i'm literally right,” Dean insists from where he's stretched across his bed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I don't know why you're fighting this so hard.”
°•➵♡you immediately throw a pillow at his head. “Because you're impossible.” “And yet you keep me around.” You laugh despite yourself, and Dean points at you in triumph. “There it is. Thank you. Validation at last.” “You're such an idiot.” “But i'm your idiot.”
°•➵♡before you can answer, he launches the pillow back at you. Eventually, you push him of the bed, and Dean ends up on the floor with absolutely none of the dignity he started the evening with.
°•➵♡your laughter fills the room, bright and uncontrollable, the kind that makes it impossible to catch your breath properly. You're pointing at him, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, and somehow the sight is so ridiculously adorable that Dean forgets whatever sarcastic comeback he was about to shot back at you.
°•➵♡and that never happens. Because Dean always has something to say. Always has another joke ready, another way to keep the moment moving before it can settle into anything too serious. Except now he's just sitting there staring at you because suddenly all he can think about is how much he loves this. Not just your laugh. Not just tonight. All of it.
°•➵♡the way you roll your eyes whenever he's being dramatic. The way you steal his hoodies and then deny it when he's looking right at the evidence. The way you never let him get away with anything, no matter how charming he thinks he's being. He thinks about how you're the first person he looks for when he walks into a room. The first person he wants to text when something funny happens. The person he reaches for without thinking whenever you're sitting beside him because he just naturally gravitates towards your warmth.
°•➵♡and suddenly it crashes into him so hard that it almost steals the air from his lungs. Because this isn't a crush anymore, it isn't attraction, it isn't him enjoying spending time with you. It's worse. Somewhere along the way, you've become important.
°•➵♡important enough that bad days feel better when you're around. Important enough that every future plan he makes automatically includes you somewhere in it. Important enough that the thought of losing you makes his chest twist. Because for the first time in a very long time, he cares enough that it would actually hurt.
°•➵♡oh. oh, shit. He's so in love with you.
°•➵♡your laughter slowly fades when you notice how quiet he's gotten. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, smiling suspiciously as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
°•➵♡normally, he would have a clever answer ready. Something flirtatious. Something guaranteed to make you roll your eyes and laugh again. Instead, he just looks at you, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he forgets to hide behind a joke.
°•➵♡“because i love you.” For a second, neither of you moves. Dean blinks. You blink. And then a slightly horrified laugh escapes him as he drags a hand down his face.
°•➵♡“wow, okay.” He shakes his head. “I was definitely not supposed to say that yet.” Your heart immediately starts racing. "Dean..." “No, seriously.” He lets out another laugh, equal parts embarrassed and amused. “I had plans for this.” You stare at him. “You had plans?” “Of course i had plans.” He gestures vaguely around the room. “I was gonna be smooth about it.”
°•➵♡but then his smile softens, and just like that, the teasing fades. “I mean it, though.” His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable than you're used to hearing from him. “I love making you laugh. I love being around you. I love that you're impossible sometimes.” Dean's eyes don't leave yours. “And i love you.”
°•➵♡for a moment, neither of you says anything. The room suddenly feels much smaller than it did a few minutes ago; everything looks exactly the same, and yet somehow, nothing feels the same at all. Because Dean is looking at you with his heart completely exposed, and you don't think you've ever seen him like this before. And maybe that's why your chest hurts a little, because you know how much courage this is costing him.
°•➵♡“Dean...” you whisper, your voice softer than before. For the first time since you've known him, he actually looks nervous. And suddenly your heart can't hold it anymore.
°•➵♡because you've spent weeks - maybe months - watching him show his feelings in a hundred different ways without ever actually saying the words. And now he's sitting on the floor in front of you, looking more vulnerable than you've ever seen him, waiting for an answer he probably already knows.
°•➵♡you slide off the bed without thinking. The movement catches his attention immediately, and his eyes follow you the entire way until you're kneeling down in front of him. You reach up and cup his face between your hands, and the way his expression softens almost breaks your heart. “I love you too, Dean.”
°•➵♡for a second, he just stares at you. Then he lets out a breathless laugh and closes his eyes. “Oh, thank god.” You start smiling. “Thank god?” “Yeah. You have no idea how badly i wanted to hear that.” His voice is still a little shaky with disbelief, like he genuinely thought there was a chance you might not say it back.
°•➵♡his smile is impossible to hide now, wide and boyish and so full of joy it makes your chest feel too small. Before you can tease him again, his hands settle on your waist and pull you forward until you're practically sitting in his lap. “Come here,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, before he kisses you gently. The kiss is soft at first, full of all the feelings he just laid bare, but it quickly turns sweeter, lingering, like he’s trying to memorize the moment.
°•➵♡when he finally pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, he’s smiling from ear to ear, eyes bright and a little glassy. His hands stay on your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles against your sides, and you can feel the way his heart is still racing under your palm where it rests on his chest.
°•➵♡“so,” you mumble, still smiling, unable to stop yourself. “So?” he echoes, grinning. “About your big romantic plan.” Dean immediately groans dramatically, tilting his head back. “We're never talking about that again. I was going to be smooth, damn it. Candles. Maybe a playlist. Not blurting it out while i'm sitting on the floor like an idiot.”
°•➵♡“oh, we're absolutely talking about that again,” you say, laughing. “I want every single detail.” He drops his head onto your shoulder in mock defeat, groaning even louder, but you can feel him smiling against your neck. The sound of your laughter vibrates through him, and he wraps his arms tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer.
°•➵♡“you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder, though there's nothing but pure affection in it. You thread your fingers through his hair, still giggling. “Not a chance, Di Laurentis.”
°•➵♡Dean lifts his head just enough to look at you again. “Good,” he whispers. “Because i don’t want to live anything down if it means i get to keep hearing that laugh for the rest of my life.”
°•⋆✿arguments with Logan are rare. Not because the two of you never disagree, but because he's usually the first one to reach for your hand instead of letting pride get in the way. He's quick to apologize when he knows he's wrong, quick to crack a joke when things feel too heavy, and even quicker to wrap you up in a hug before either of you can stay upset for very long. Loving Logan has always felt easy because loving people is simply who he is; which is why this feels so different.
°•⋆✿it starts with little things that almost seem too insignificant to mention. He's been leaving for practice earlier than usual, picking up extra gigs or helping out longer at the garage, insisting he's "fine" every time you ask if something's on his mind. None of it is unusual on its own; he has always been the kind of person who keeps himself busy.
°•⋆✿but you're his girlfriend. You notice the details other people don't.
°•⋆✿you notice the way his smile lingers just a second too long whenever you ask how he's doing, like he's trying to convince you as much as himself. The way his shoulders stay tense even when you're curled up beside him on the couch. The way he always asks about your day first, genuinely listening to every word, only to brush off every question you ask about his own with a quiet, "nothing exciting, my love."
°•⋆✿it's subtle, so subtle that anyone else probably would've believed him - but you don't.
°•⋆✿at first, you let it go. Everyone has difficult weeks, and Logan deserves the chance to sort through whatever's weighing on him in his own time. Except... weeks keep turning into more weeks.
°•⋆✿he still kisses your forehead gently every time he sees you. Still slips his hand into yours whenever you're walking beside each other. Still smiles every time you steal fries off his plate, even though he always pretends to complain about it. He hasn't stopped loving you, he's just stopped letting you see the parts of himself that aren't smiling. And that hurts more than you'd like to admit.
°•⋆✿it's a rainy thursday evening when you finally decide enough is enough.
°•⋆✿you've been looking forward to tonight all week. No hockey. No work. No studying. Just the two of you, takeout on the coffee table and another terrible movie Logan had insisted the two of you had to watch because, according to him, "it's so bad that it circles back around to being good." And for the first hour, everything feels normal.
°•⋆✿he laughs at all the right moments, throws an arm around your shoulders when you settle against him, and absentmindedly traces circles against your arm while the movie plays in the background.
°•⋆✿if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd believe nothing was wrong. But then his phone buzzes.
°•⋆✿you watch the smile fade from his face for the briefest moment as he reads the message, but it's gone almost as quickly as it appeared. He locks his phone and smiles at you again.
°•⋆✿"everything okay?" you ask. "Yeah." He nods a little too quickly. "Just one of the guys." You hum softly, but something doesn't sit right. A few minutes later, his leg starts bouncing, and his eyes keep drifting toward the phone lying face-down on the coffee table; he doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it.
°•⋆✿you pause the movie, and he immediately looks over. "Why'd you stop it?" You look at him softly "Baby... talk to me." He blinks. "What?" You smile at him. "You don't have to pretend everything's okay with me."
°•⋆✿for a second, his expression softens. Then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, offering you his smile that usually brightens every room he walks into - but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "There's nothing to talk about, really." And somehow... those words hurt more than you expected them to.
°•⋆✿the rain picks up outside, drumming harder against the windows as the silence settles between you. Logan reaches for the remote like he can just press play and move on, but you gently take it from his hand. “Logan,” you say softly, turning fully toward him. “I'm not going to force you to talk if you really don’t want to. But don't lie to me and say nothing’s wrong. You know i can see right through you.”
°•⋆✿he rubs the back of his neck, exhaling through his nose. For a moment, you think he might open up. Instead, he stands, gathering the half-empty takeout containers and moving to throw them away. “It's not a big deal. Just family stuff again. Jules texted... mom's having another rough patch. Nothing new.”
°•⋆✿you follow him into the kitchen, watching as he tidies things that don’t need tidying. “Then why does it feel like you’re pulling away from me? You've been doing it for weeks. Leaving earlier, staying later, acting like i won't notice.”
°•⋆✿he freezes for a second, and when he turns, his mask is slipping fast. “Because maybe you shouldn't have to notice. Maybe you shouldn't have to deal with any of this.”
°•⋆✿he sets the containers down, bracing his hands on the counter. His shoulders are tight, jaw working like he's fighting himself. “You deserve better than this, okay? Someone without all the family drama. Someone whose life isn't one phone call away from falling apart. Someone who can actually give you stability instead of… this.” He gestures vaguely at himself, at the phone still buzzing silently on the coffee table behind you. Your heart twists. “Logan…”
°•⋆✿he cuts you off, voice quieter but no less intense. “I keep thinking about it. You have your whole future ahead of you. And I'm the guy who might end up right back in that garage, trying to hold everything together for everyone else. You shouldn't have to carry any of that. You should be with someone who makes your life easier, not heavier.”
°•⋆✿he looks at you then, and the walls he’s been building for weeks finally crack wide open, like a dam breaking right in front of you. You can see it in his eyes, that it’s been choking him.
°•⋆✿“why are you saying something like that?” you ask, the hurt and love colliding in your voice until it wavers. “You think pushing me away is somehow protecting me?”
°•⋆✿Logan’s breath catches. He looks at you for a long second, eyes wide and conflicted, because the question has finally pushed everything he’s been holding back right to the surface. His jaw works, hands flexing on the counter, and then it just breaks out of him - raw, unstoppable, as if he couldn't stop the words even if he tried.
°•⋆✿“because i love you,” he says, voice cracking in a way that makes your chest ache. “I love you so much it's fucking terrifying. That's why i've been pushing. Because you deserve someone who doesn't come with all this baggage. Someone who can actually plan a future without wondering if he'll end up stuck in the same place for the rest of his life.”
°•⋆✿his hands are still braced on the counter like he needs it to stay upright, but his shoulders have started to shake just a little. You can see how much it's costing him to say this, how long he’s been carrying that fear inside him. The mask is completely gone; it's just Logan - scared and exhausted and so full of love it’s spilling over.
°•⋆✿you don’t think. You cross the space between you and wrap your arms around his waist, holding on tight. He freezes for a second, breath catching like he still expects you to let go. But you don't. You press closer, cheek against his chest, feeling the way his heart is pounding wildly under your ear. The rain keeps drumming against the windows, but all you can focus on is him; warm and solid and breaking right in front of you.
°•⋆✿“i don’t want someone else,” you tell him softly, the words coming straight from the deepest part of you. “I never did. I want you, Logan. The Logan who drops everything for the people he loves. The one who works those extra gigs because taking care of people is in your bones. The one who still finds ways to make me feel safe and loved even when your own world feels like it's spinning. I see the hard parts... i see them all. And i'm not running from any of it. I'm choosing you. Every single part.”
°•⋆✿he lets out a shaky breath that sounds like it’s been trapped inside him for weeks. Then his arms wrap around you, so tight and desperate, one hand cradling the back of your head like he’s afraid you'll disappear if he loosens his grip. You feel him bury his face in your hair, his whole body trembling as relief starts to hit him in waves. A quiet, broken sound escapes him - all the fear he’s been holding back is finally pouring out.
°•⋆✿“god... i love you,” he whispers, voice raw against your ear. “I love you so much it hurts. I've been so convinced that if i loved you enough, i had to let you go… that one day you'd wake up and realize you could have someone without all this shit weighing you down. I didn’t know how to stop pushing you away. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.”
°•⋆✿you hold him through it, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, letting him feel every bit of your love in the way you cling to him. The kitchen feels smaller and warmer, the rain a distant backdrop now.
°•⋆✿when he eventually pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes are glassy, a few tears caught in his lashes that he doesn’t bother hiding. His hands cup your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks, memorizing you all over again. That small, real smile you love so much starts to break through; shaky at first, but genuine.
°•⋆✿“i don't deserve you,” he murmurs, voice still rough but full of love. “But damn, i'm never letting you go again. I love you. So much.”
°•⋆✿you smile through the tears gathering in your own eyes and kiss him, slow and deep and full of everything you've both been holding back. He kisses you back like you’re the only thing anchoring him, hands cupping your face once more as the tension finally melts away completely.
°•⋆✿the takeout sits forgotten on the counter. The movie stays paused on the tv. But in the warmth of the kitchen, with Logan's heartbeat steadying against yours and the rain washing the world outside, everything feels like it's falling back into place. He's still the same Logan with all his complications, but now he's letting you stand beside him instead of trying to carry it alone. And that feels like everything.
°•❀⋆Tucker has always loved cooking. Some people go for a run when they need to clear their head, some people put on music and disappear into it for a while - Tucker cooks. He likes the routine of it, the familiar motions of chopping vegetables and measuring ingredients, the satisfaction that comes from turning a few random things into something delicious.
°•❀⋆and he likes cooking with you even more.
°•❀⋆the two of you had planned on ordering takeout, but somehow that turned into a grocery run and then into standing side by side in the boys kitchen with ingredients spread across the counter. You’re wearing one of his old shirts that hangs almost to your mid-thigh; you've stolen it so many times at this point that he's pretty sure it's yours now.
°•❀⋆the sight of you in it just does something to him. The collar slips off one shoulder, exposing a sliver of skin he’s kissed a hundred times before and will continue to do so. The hem brushes against your thighs as you move, and every time you reach for something, the fabric shifts in a way that makes his breath catch. You look comfortable, content, like you belong right here in his space, and Tucker has to force himself to focus on the pan instead of staring.
°•❀⋆you chop vegetables beside him, humming along to the soft music playing from his phone, occasionally sneaking bites when you think he isn’t looking. He notices every time, of course.
°•❀⋆after a while you set the knife down and hop up onto the counter, legs swinging gently. You're right beside the stove now, close enough that he can smell the shampoo in your hair when you lean toward him. The shirt pools softly around your thighs, and you look so effortlessly beautiful it makes his breath catch for a second.
°•❀⋆“tell me about practice today,” you say as you watch him stir the sauce. “Did Logan and Dean almost kill each other again, or are we having a peaceful week for once?”
°•❀⋆Tucker chuckles, glancing over at you as he talks. You swing your legs, steal tastes from the spoon he offers, and occasionally reach out to fix his hair or brush something off his shirt while you talk about your day. Everything feels so natural. So right.
°•❀⋆and as he stands there, listening to you laugh at one of his stories while the sauce simmers and the kitchen fills with warmth and good smells, it hits him all at once.
°•❀⋆he could do this forever.
°•❀⋆coming home to this exact kind of evening. You in his shirt, perched on the counter talking about your day. The easy rhythm of cooking together, the way you make his space feel like home without even trying. The certainty that he wants every ordinary night, every lazy morning, every small moment with you. It steals the air from his lungs for a second because he's never felt anything this certain before.
°•❀⋆his hand slows on the spoon before he turns to look at you fully, eyes soft and full of something deeper than he’s ever shown before.
°•❀⋆your head tilts, a small, curious smile playing on your lips as you study him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, voice gentle, almost teasing, but laced with softness, like you already sense the weight behind his silence.
°•❀⋆Tucker doesn’t rush. He steps between your legs, hands sliding slowly up your thighs until they settle at your waist. His touch is so careful, almost reverent. For a long moment he just looks at you, taking in the way his shirt drapes over your frame, the faint flush on your cheeks from the warmth of the kitchen, the way your eyes always make him feel seen in a world that can be so cruel.
°•❀⋆“because i'm in love with you,” he says. The words come out steady, but there's a tremble underneath, a crack in the calm exterior he usually wears so well.
°•❀⋆“not just like you, not just happy with you. I love you. The kind of love that makes me stand here and realize i don't want a single version of my future that doesn't have you sitting on my counter in my shirt, making my kitchen feel like home.”
°•❀⋆his thumbs brush slow circles against your sides, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. “I’ve spent so long being the steady one. The one who fixes things. The one who shows up for everyone else. But with you… it’s different. You make me want to build something. Not just survive the days, but live them. With you. All the ordinary ones. All the messy ones. A forever kind of love.”
°•❀⋆your eyes shimmer, breath catching in that way that makes his chest ache in the best possible way. You don't say anything at first; you just lean in, pressing your forehead to his for a heartbeat, letting his words sink into your skin.
°•❀⋆“Tucker…” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I love you too. God, i love you so much it feels like i've been waiting to say it out loud.”
°•❀⋆the last bit of tension in his shoulders melts away. He pulls you closer, and when your lips meet, he kisses you deep and unhurried, full of everything you've both been carrying inside. It's tender at first, then warmer, playful, as your legs wrap around him and your fingers slide into his hair. There's laughter bubbling between kisses, quiet sighs, the kind of closeness that feels like coming home and discovering new territory all at once.
°•❀⋆it's only when the sharp, unmistakable smell of burning sauce fills the kitchen that you both startle apart.
°•❀⋆Tucker pulls back with a startled laugh, reaching over blindly to kill the burner while keeping one arm locked around your waist. Smoke curls lazily from the pan as you dissolve into giggles against his chest.
°•❀⋆“i ruin dinner the second i tell you i love you,” he murmurs, shaking his head, but his voice is full of pure affection. He presses a kiss to your hair, then tips your chin up for another soft kiss. “Worst timing.”
°•❀⋆“best timing,” you correct him, eyes shining as you cup his face. “We can order pizza. I really don't want to be anywhere else but right here with you.”
°•❀⋆he rests his forehead against yours again, eyes closed, heart so full it feels like it might spill over. The kitchen is hazy with smoke and the faint smell of charred herbs, but all he can feel is you - warm, real, and entirely his.
°•❀⋆he could do this forever. And for the first time, he knows without a doubt that he will.
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