777bae

[777bae]

SWEETENER LUKE HUGHES

- A small series of imagines for Luke Hughes, each individually based on a song from the album ‘Sweetener’ by Ariana Grande, all being sfw, though some have suggestive incentives.

TRACK ONE | Raindrops (An Angel Cried)

:: (1.5k) In an empty rink, Luke Hughes breaks your heart, leaving you alone to face the silence and the pain of a love lost forever.

TRACK TWO | God is a Woman

:: (2.1k) In the city’s pulse, you take control of the night, shifting the power between you and Luke. With every move, you leave him breathless, uncertain, and surrendered to your lead.

TRACK THREE | Sweetener

:: (1.2k) In Luke’s embrace, the world fades away. There’s no rush—just the quiet sweetness of being together, where every touch and word makes everything feel right.

TRACK FOUR | Everytime

:: (2.0k) Caught in a toxic cycle, you can’t resist Luke, no matter how many times you swear you’re done. Every time he returns, your walls crumble, and you’re pulled back into his arms, knowing nothing ever truly changes.

TRACK FIVE | Breathin

:: (1.7k) Drowning in anxiety, Luke Hughes becomes your calm, reminding you that with him, you’ll never face it alone.

TRACK SIX | No tears left to cry

:: (1.9k) After months of healing, you run into Luke, and everything you thought you’d moved past comes rushing back. Disoriented and lost, you realize you haven’t truly moved on.

TRACK SEVEN | Borderline

:: (2.3k) As the sun sets over the lake, the distance between you and Luke fades, replaced by his promise to meet you halfway. In his touch and words, you find hope for something real.

TRACK EIGHT | Better off

:: (3.6k) A chance encounter with Luke turns into a deep connection, but your fears and insecurities lead you to walk away, believing he’s better off without you, despite the heartbreak it causes.

TRACK NINE | Goodnight n go ��� Coming soon

:: (4.0k) You can’t stop thinking about Luke Hughes—the quiet, magnetic presence in your life. From fleeting touches to charged conversations, every moment with him leaves you questioning if he feels the same. Torn between holding on and letting go, you’re left trapped in the ache of almost-love.

[777bae]

BETTER OFF LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: A chance encounter with Luke Hughes turns into a deep connection, but your fears and insecurities lead you to walk away, believing he’s better off without you, despite the heartbreak it causes.

Warnings :: Insecurity within a relationship, heartbreak

Word count :: 3.6k

The first time you met Luke, it had been an accident—one of those fleeting moments that shouldn’t have meant anything but stayed with you anyway. You were rushing, the late-afternoon sun painting streaks of gold across the pavement as you hurried into the coffee shop, fumbling with your bag while balancing your phone against your ear. The bells on the door jingled as you shoved it open, stepping inside with just enough force that it almost swung back too quickly.

You didn’t see him at first—not until it was too late.

He had been walking out, one hand holding a to-go cup and the other clutching his phone, his head slightly turned as if he was listening to someone call his name from behind. You collided right into him, the edge of your bag brushing against his arm and nearly knocking the drink out of his hand.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, his voice low and warm, carrying a hint of a laugh.

“No, no, that’s on me,” you replied, looking up in a fluster, already half-braced for an annoyed glare. But when your eyes met his, the words you’d planned to mumble stuck in your throat.

He was tall, broad-shouldered in a way that made him seem effortless, like he hadn’t even noticed the slight stumble you’d caused. His hair, a tousled mix of brown that curled slightly at the ends, looked like it had been damp from a recent shower, and the edges of his jaw were dusted with the faintest shadow of stubble. But it was his eyes that caught you—the striking blue of them, sharp and clear, like they saw more than just you standing there awkwardly.

You realized then that he wasn’t moving, that he was still looking at you, a flicker of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s fine,” you managed, your voice coming out a little softer than you intended. “Totally my fault.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a second longer, as if he was trying to place you. The faintest grin broke across his lips, easy and genuine, but just a little lopsided—like he didn’t flash it often, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Well,” he said finally, his tone light and teasing, “I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

Before you could figure out what to say—if there was even anything to say—he stepped around you, his long stride carrying him out the door and onto the street.

You stood frozen for a moment, still clutching your bag tightly against your side, as if you could somehow replay the encounter and do something differently. Your heart was racing, and you didn’t even know why. It was just a stranger—just some guy at a coffee shop. You shook your head, trying to brush it off, but the image of him, of his blue eyes and that half-smile, stuck with you for the rest of the day.

The next time you saw him, it wasn’t an accident.

You hadn’t planned on going to the party, but your friend had insisted. It was one of those gatherings that felt bigger than it was, with people spilling out onto the back patio and loud music thumping faintly in the background. You’d spent most of the night lingering on the edges of the crowd, a drink in hand, making polite small talk and counting the minutes until you could leave without it being considered rude.

But then, from across the room, you saw him.

It was the same blue eyes that caught your attention first, cutting through the noise and the haze of unfamiliar faces. He was standing with a small group, his height making him easy to spot, one hand in his pocket and the other loosely gripping a bottle of beer.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining it, that your memory of him had conjured up his image in a sea of strangers. But then he looked up, scanning the room, and his eyes landed on you.

You froze, caught in the act of looking at him, but instead of turning away, he smiled. It was slow, easy, the kind of smile that made you feel like the only person in the room.

Before you could decide whether to walk away or pretend you hadn’t seen him, he started weaving through the crowd toward you.

“Hey,” he said when he reached you, his voice low enough to cut through the noise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” you replied, your fingers tightening slightly around your glass. There was something about the way he looked at you that made your skin buzz, that made you acutely aware of everything—your posture, your breathing, the way your voice sounded.

Up close, he looked different than you remembered. Not because he wasn’t as striking as he’d been in the coffee shop—if anything, it was the opposite. He seemed even more composed, more comfortable, like he belonged here in a way that you didn’t.

“I don’t think I caught your name last time,” he said, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N,” you told him, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart was pounding. “And you?”

“Luke,” he said, holding your gaze for just a beat too long.

For the next few hours, the two of you sat in the corner of the living room, where the music was quieter and the rest of the party seemed to fade into the background. He asked you about yourself—where you were from, what you did, what you loved. And he listened. Really listened, his blue eyes locked on yours as you talked, like nothing else in the room mattered.

When you asked him about himself, he was a little more hesitant, brushing off questions about hockey like they weren’t important. You didn’t push. You didn’t even realize what he meant until later, when someone casually mentioned his last name, and the pieces clicked.

Luke Hughes.

His name carried weight in circles you didn’t run in, and suddenly, things made sense—the confidence, the way he seemed so at ease with himself, like he’d been navigating attention for years.

But by the time you figured that out, it was too late. You were already hooked.

Luke wasn’t like anyone you’d been with before. He wasn’t flashy or arrogant, and he didn’t play games. He had this quiet confidence about him, the kind that didn’t need to announce itself to a room. He had this way of making you feel seen, of holding your attention without demanding it.

When he spoke to you, it felt like he truly cared about the answer. He wasn’t one to look at his phone mid-conversation, and he never made you feel like he had somewhere better to be. Instead, when he was with you, it was like the rest of the world fell away. He had a way of focusing entirely on you, of holding your gaze like he was trying to figure you out in the most unassuming way possible.

But Luke’s life was a far cry from the quiet stability you were used to. His was loud, fast-paced, and constantly in motion. And while he never once made you feel like you weren’t enough, the fear was always there, lingering in the back of your mind like an unwelcome guest. It whispered to you in the moments when he’d leave for a trip or when his name would pop up on social media, surrounded by a whirlwind of people and events that felt impossibly far from your world.

Still, you let him in. Slowly, carefully. You didn’t dive in headfirst—you dipped your toes in, testing the waters, letting yourself get close to him inch by inch, afraid that if you gave too much too fast, you’d drown.

The late-night phone calls were your favorite. His voice, low and raspy from a long day of practice, felt intimate in a way that made your chest ache. He’d tell you about his day—not just the highlights but the little things, the moments that most people wouldn’t think to share. Like how his skate had been too tight during practice, or how Jack had stolen his food again, or how the flight to his last game had been delayed for hours.

And then he’d ask about you.

“What about you?” he’d say, his tone soft and unhurried. “How was your day?”

He listened to your answers, really listened, even if you were just rambling about something mundane. Sometimes, you’d talk for hours until your voice grew heavy with sleep and the world outside your window turned quiet.

There were drives through the city when the two of you were together, the kind of nights where everything felt easy. His hand would rest on your thigh as he steered with the other, his thumb brushing against your skin absentmindedly. He’d smile at you when you laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he teased you about something small, his words laced with warmth.

And then there were the mornings. Those quiet, golden moments when sunlight would stream through the windows of his apartment, painting everything in a warm glow. You’d sit on the couch together, his arm slung casually over your shoulders as you shared a cup of coffee, your legs tangled together beneath the blanket.

For a while, those moments were enough.

But then there were the other moments—the heavier ones. The ones that reminded you why you’d built walls around yourself in the first place.

It was the nights when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, the persistent hum of texts and calls pulling him away even when he was with you. He’d glance at the screen, his brows furrowing in apology as he muttered, “I need to take this, just a second.” And even though you understood, even though you knew it wasn’t his fault, it left a hollow feeling in your chest.

It was the weeks when he was gone, traveling for games, his absence a tangible weight in your apartment. He’d call or text when he could, but it wasn’t the same. The distance made everything feel harder, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were built for this—if you were built for him.

The first real fight you had wasn’t loud or dramatic. It wasn’t even really a fight—it was quieter than that, more subdued. But it left a mark just the same.

You’d been at his place, sitting on the floor in front of his couch. It was late, and the two of you had spent the evening flipping through one of his old photo albums—a collection of snapshots from his childhood, from early hockey tournaments to family vacations.

Luke sat on the couch behind you, his long legs stretched out beside you as he leaned forward, his chin resting in his hand. He looked content, his damp hair curling slightly against his forehead from the shower he’d taken earlier, the faint scent of his soap still clinging to his skin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Luke looked at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “Tired of what?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the edge of the photo album in your lap. “All of it. The pressure, the attention, the constant… everything.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just leaned back against the couch, his expression thoughtful. “I mean, yeah, sometimes,” he admitted finally. “But it’s part of the deal, you know? It’s what I signed up for.”

You nodded, but the unease in your chest didn’t go away. If anything, it grew. Your brows furrowed as you stared down at the photos, your lips pressing into a thin line.

“Why do you ask?” he pressed, his voice cautious.

You glanced up at him, hesitating. Part of you wanted to brush it off, to tell him it was nothing. But another part of you—the part that couldn’t seem to quiet the doubts in your head—spoke before you could stop it.

“I just… I don’t know if I could do it,” you admitted softly. “If I could handle being a part of all that.”

His expression softened, his gaze steady as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “You don’t have to be,” he said gently. “That’s not what this is about.”

But it was.

You didn’t say it out loud, but you both felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging between you. Loving Luke didn’t come without strings—it couldn’t. His world was too big, too fast, too demanding. And as much as you wanted to believe his words, as much as you wanted to believe that you could somehow exist in his orbit without losing yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were fooling yourself.

Because no matter how much you cared for him, you couldn’t escape the truth: being with Luke wasn’t just about him. It was about his world, his life, his everything.

And you weren’t sure you belonged there.

The truth was, Luke made you feel things you weren’t ready for. It wasn’t just the way he smiled at you like you were the only person in the room, or the way his laugh seemed to settle something deep inside your chest. It was the way he saw you—the way he really saw you. He had a way of slipping past your defenses without even trying, of peeling back the layers you’d spent years building to protect yourself.

And that scared you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care about him. If anything, you cared too much. But caring about Luke wasn’t simple. It wasn’t casual or easy. Being with him made you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn’t let yourself feel in years. It made you imagine things you’d promised yourself you’d never want—things like forever, like a life wrapped up in someone else’s.

Luke was steady in a way you weren’t used to. He wasn’t overbearing, and he didn’t push you. He met you where you were, always patient, always understanding. When you pulled away, he didn’t chase you. He just waited, quietly, giving you the space you thought you needed.

But maybe that was the problem.

He deserved someone who didn’t need space, someone who could meet him in the middle instead of lingering at the edges. And the longer you were with him, the more you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you weren’t that person.

It wasn’t his fault—he’d never asked for more than you were willing to give. But that was the thing. He deserved more than crumbs, more than the cautious, half-hearted way you let yourself be with him. He deserved someone who could dive in without hesitation, someone who wasn’t afraid to meet him where he stood.

And so, slowly, almost imperceptibly, you began to pull away.

It started small. You answered his texts a little less quickly, your replies shorter and less thoughtful than before. You told yourself it was because you were busy, because life was getting in the way, but deep down, you knew the truth.

When he asked to see you, you started making excuses. Work’s been crazy. I’m not feeling great. Maybe next week? The lies sat heavy on your tongue, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. The thought of being around him, of feeling the full weight of his presence, was too much.

When you did see him, you retreated into yourself in ways you hadn’t before. You’d smile at his jokes, laugh when you were supposed to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully let him in. You were protecting yourself—you were sure of that. But in the process, you were shutting him out.

And yet, even as you pushed him away, you missed him.

You missed the late-night phone calls that used to stretch into the early hours, his voice soft and low as he told you about his day. You missed the way he’d reach for your hand when you were sitting next to him, his fingers warm and steady against yours. You missed the way he’d look at you, like you were the only thing that mattered.

You craved the comfort of his presence, the way he made you feel safe, even as the vulnerability terrified you. But every time you thought about letting him in again, the fear crept back in.

What if I let him down?

What if I’m not enough for him?

What if this ends, and I lose everything?

Those questions played on a loop in your mind, louder and louder with each passing day, until the weight of them became unbearable.

You told yourself that pulling away was the right thing to do, that you were protecting both of you from inevitable heartbreak. But the truth was, it was lonely. So lonely.

Luke noticed, of course he did. He wasn’t oblivious. But he didn’t call you out on it—not at first. He gave you space, the same way he always had, but there was a quiet sadness in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

You hated yourself for it, for hurting him when he’d done nothing but care for you. But you didn’t know how to stop.

Because the closer you got to him, the more it felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unsteady. And you didn’t know if you were brave enough to fall.

The tension had been simmering for weeks, a quiet undercurrent in your otherwise easy conversations with Luke. You both felt it—the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air every time you were together.

It all came to a head one night in his apartment, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. You sat curled up on his couch, your knees pulled to your chest as he sat across from you, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. He wasn’t accusing you. That wasn’t his style. But there was a seriousness in his tone that made your stomach twist.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” you replied, deflecting like always.

Luke’s jaw tensed, his hands clasped together as he nodded slowly. “I know. But you won’t tell me what it is. And it’s starting to feel like you don’t want me around.”

Your chest tightened, the guilt hitting you like a wave. He wasn’t wrong. You’d been pulling away, trying to protect yourself—and him—from the inevitable heartbreak you were sure was coming.

“It’s not that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then what is it?” he asked, his blue eyes searching yours. “Because I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t even know why.”

You took a deep breath, looking down at your hands as you tried to gather your thoughts. This was it. You couldn’t keep dancing around the truth anymore.

“You deserve someone who can give you everything,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Someone who can fit into your life, who won’t hold you back.”

Luke frowned, leaning back slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m talking about the fact that I can’t give you what you need, Luke. I’m not built for this—the travel, the pressure, the constant spotlight. I don’t know how to be a part of that world.”

He shook his head, his brows furrowed. “I’ve never asked you to be a part of it. I’ve never expected you to change who you are.”

“I know,” you said, your voice breaking. “But that’s the problem. You’re perfect, Luke. You’re kind and patient, and you never make me feel like I’m not enough. But I know I’m not enough. And I don’t want to keep dragging you into something that’s going to hurt you in the end.”

Luke stared at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and hurt. “So, what? You think I’d be better off without you?”

“Yes,” you said, the word cutting through the air like a knife. “I do.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the tears building behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet.

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said finally, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “You don’t get to tell me what I need or what’s best for me. That’s not how this works.”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “Maybe not. But I need to do what’s best for me.”

That night stayed with you long after you left his apartment. The image of him standing in the doorway, watching you walk away, was burned into your memory. He hadn’t tried to stop you. He’d simply nodded, a quiet acknowledgment of the choice you’d made, even if he didn’t agree with it.

The rain fell steadily against your window as you sat curled up on your couch, the echoes of your conversation with Luke replaying in your mind. You hated yourself for the way you’d hurt him, for the way his expression had crumbled when you told him he’d be better off without you.

But deep down, you still believed it was true.

Luke had a life that was bigger than anything you could comprehend—a life full of promise and opportunity and endless potential. And you? You were just trying to keep your head above water.

You loved him. That much was undeniable. But sometimes love wasn’t enough.

As the rain blurred the city lights outside your window, you let the tears you’d been holding back finally fall. You told yourself it was for the best, that walking away was the right thing to do.

And maybe, someday, you’d believe it.

[777bae]

Wait guys I can finally see the appeal OH MY LORD 😭. Thinking of writing for Matt now so drop in any requests x

[777bae]

Hi my love! Can I request prompt 1 with Will Smith? Will, his friends, and reader are at the lake, and one night they have a bonfire and she sneaks away to lay in a hammock in a more quiet part of the yard. Will finds her looking at the stars and knowing she knows a lot about the constellations, he asks her to point them out to him. Just super fluffy with lots of kisses and cuddles please! Thank you so much! 💙💙💙

Here you go, my love. Hope you enjoy x

[777bae]

BETWEEN THE STARS WILL SMITH

Summary :: You slip away from the noise of the bonfire, seeking peace in a hammock under the stars. As you share quiet moments with Will, his presence grounds you, his touch comforting. The world fades, leaving only the warmth between you, as you both find stillness in the night and in each other. (REQUESTED :: prompt 1)

Word count :: 3.1k

Warnings :: kissing, reader being introverted?

Notes :: Loved this request so much as it gave me an opportunity to nerd out about the stars

The night air had a crisp, almost tangible quality to it, the kind that makes the edges of your thoughts sharper and clearer, cutting through the fog of the day. It was a welcome reprieve from the sun’s lingering warmth that had bathed the earth earlier. Now, the air felt like a secret, a cool embrace from the world around you, steadying your breath as the sounds of life continued on, but with a different rhythm.

From a distance, you could hear the crackling of the bonfire, the flames licking the air in sporadic bursts, sending flashes of orange light darting across the tall, thick trunks of the pine trees surrounding Will’s family’s lakeside cabin. The fire, alive and roaring, cast long shadows on the ground, dancing across the grass in unpredictable patterns. The laughter, the chatter, the clink of bottles, and the occasional hum of music—voices that blended together like a chorus of different lives intersecting in the same moment—felt suddenly louder, almost oppressive. The warmth from the fire was inviting, but with each moment, the noise felt like it was pulling at you, tugging your thoughts in every direction, making the stillness you craved seem further out of reach.

You needed space—needed it in the quiet way a person craves air when the walls of a room are closing in. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy the company, or that you weren’t grateful for the moments of shared laughter with Will and his friends. But the energy of the crowd had started to feel overwhelming, as if the sound of voices was beginning to swallow your own thoughts, drowning out the peaceful rhythm you carried inside. You slipped away without making a fuss, gliding through the shadows toward the far side of the yard, where the night’s cool touch promised quiet refuge.

The walk away from the group felt almost ceremonial, like stepping from one world into another. As the faint light from the fire grew dimmer behind you, the landscape opened up. The trees here seemed older, their trunks thicker, their branches sprawling high above, curling into the sky like the arms of silent giants. The gentle breeze whispered through their needles, a soft sigh against the coolness of the air. The sounds of the yard—the conversation, the music—became muffled, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves, the steady, rhythmic pulse of the world exhaling.

And then, nestled between two towering pines, you found it—a hammock, swinging gently, a forgotten piece of heaven. Its fabric, worn but soft, seemed to be waiting for you, swaying lightly as though in anticipation. You let out a soft sigh, a breath of relief, as you slid into it, your body sinking into its embrace. The moment you settled back, everything around you fell into place. The sway of the hammock was slow, deliberate, like a whisper, and as it rocked gently, it cradled you like a secret. You closed your eyes, feeling the coolness of the breeze kiss your skin, the scent of pine and fresh earth filling your senses. Everything around you felt alive, but at the same time, utterly still.

The sky above was an expanse that seemed to swallow everything. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the darkness, finding your place in the universe again. The stars stretched out above you like glittering diamonds scattered across a dark velvet canvas, pinpricks of light cutting through the vastness. The constellations you knew by heart were there, waiting, familiar, their outlines etched across the night. You smiled softly, lost in the quiet awe of their endless distance.

The Big Dipper. The stars were so bright tonight, even more so than usual, their clarity cutting through the dark like an old friend reappearing in your life after years of absence. The group of stars pointed the way to the North Star, a steady guide in the night, its quiet brilliance always grounding you in the chaos of the world. You traced the shape in the air with your finger, as though the constellation could feel the weight of your thoughts. You let your mind wander—how many generations had looked up at the same stars? How many people had seen the same patterns, told the same stories, felt the same pull?

Orion, too, was there—his belt a line of three bright stars, his body a silhouette of light in the dark sky. You loved how his form stretched across the heavens, forever hunting in the vast nothingness, forever striding through the fabric of time. Lyra, too, stood out to you, her shape smaller but no less majestic. You could almost hear the whisper of the lyre, the soft music that the stars seemed to hum in your ears. Vega, bright and sharp, sat at the heart of it all, a reminder that even the smallest light can burn the brightest when given the space to shine. You imagined its light reaching you, over six hundred light-years away, so ancient yet so vibrant, like a message that had traveled through time just to find you here, under the same sky.

You didn’t even realize you were tracing the constellations in the air, your fingers sweeping through the space above you, creating invisible lines, connecting the dots. The air was thick with the sound of your own thoughts. It felt like a communion with something much larger than yourself, something that was vast and infinite. And yet, it was intimate—this connection, this understanding that you were a part of it all.

The hammock creaked slightly, and you glanced over, seeing a shadow approach. Will’s silhouette was outlined by the distant light of the fire, his form steady and unhurried, like he was moving through the world with ease, a quiet kind of confidence that had always seemed to draw you in. He paused just at the edge of the hammock, his presence a comforting weight in the cool night air. For a second, he simply watched you, his gaze softening as he noticed the way you seemed to be wrapped in the sky.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low, yet it seemed to carry a warmth that wrapped itself around you, easing the restlessness in your chest. His eyes were searching you in the dim light, as if seeing something beneath the surface. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, offering a small smile, your chest swelling with affection for him. “Yeah, just needed some space. It’s kind of loud over there,” you explained, nodding back toward the group by the fire. You didn’t feel like you had to say much. Will seemed to understand the language of silence better than anyone.

He nodded, his lips quirking into a soft smile. He didn’t push, didn’t try to pull you back into the noise. Instead, he slid down to sit beside the hammock, his broad frame stretching out across the cool grass. He leaned back slightly, tilting his head up toward the stars as if seeking the same peace you had found.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something calming about his quiet presence, like the world had paused, and all that mattered was this moment you were sharing. Then, Will shifted, pulling his legs under him, so that he was sitting beside you, and before you could even think to ask, his arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. His warmth, a stark contrast to the night air, was a balm against the cool breeze.

You sank into him, his solid presence grounding you. As you leaned your head against his shoulder, his lips pressed softly against your hair, a light, tender kiss that made your heart stutter. He held you close, the steady rhythm of his breathing anchoring you to the moment, making everything feel safe and still.

“So, what are you looking at?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he didn’t want to disturb the quiet magic of the moment.

You smiled, grateful for his presence, for the comfort of his arm around you, and for the way he seemed so naturally attuned to your needs. “I was just thinking about the stars.” Your voice, though soft, felt full of warmth, both for the stars above and the man beside you. “See that one?” You pointed toward the Big Dipper, tracing the familiar pattern in the night sky. “It’s part of Ursa Major, and you can use it to find the North Star.”

Will leaned in closer, his eyes tracking your finger as you moved from one constellation to the next. He didn’t just glance at the stars; he watched them with purpose, as if he wanted to see them the way you saw them. “Yeah, I think I see it,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as his gaze shifted from the sky back to you. “And that one?”

You smiled, heart swelling as you began explaining the next constellation, your voice flowing more freely now, your earlier sense of uncertainty melting away. Will’s presence, the way he held you, made everything feel easy, natural. As you spoke, you noticed him looking down at you often, his eyes filled with admiration, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he tried to keep up with your explanations.

After a few more constellations, you fell silent, content to simply exist in the quiet of the night. But as the silence stretched on, you suddenly became aware of your own voice, wondering if you were talking too much. Maybe he was getting bored, or maybe you were just rambling on.

The self-doubt started to creep in, and for a second, you hesitated, worried that you had gone on for too long.

Will noticed the shift in your energy almost immediately. He turned to you, his brow furrowed slightly, and his hand gently brushed against your shoulder as he fiddled with your hair. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft, as if he could feel the sudden hesitation in you, “why’d you stop?”

You looked up at him, unsure whether to explain the sudden insecurity or simply let the silence stretch between you. But before you could say anything, his eyes locked onto yours, steady and warm. “Keep talking,” he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in affection. “I love your voice.”

It was simple, but in that simplicity, you found a kind of comfort that soothed your nervous heart. His words, gentle and sincere, felt like the warm embrace you hadn’t realized you needed. Each syllable he spoke seemed to wrap itself around you, settling against your shoulders, like a soft blanket keeping the chill of uncertainty at bay. It was as though everything had quieted, the distant voices of the fire and the hum of the crowd fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this cocoon of stillness. The knot of tension you hadn’t even known you were carrying started to loosen. Your chest, which had been tight with unspoken thoughts, finally exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

His fingers, warm and reassuring, slid gently into yours, his grip a quiet promise. It was simple, but it held meaning—comfort, steadiness. You let the moment settle around you like the cool night air, giving yourself permission to relax into the feeling of being seen, of being understood without the need for words.

You felt his presence beside you, calm and steady, grounding you like the trees towering above the hammock, like the earth beneath you. And when you finally spoke again, your voice no longer carried that hesitant edge. The words came easier this time, flowing like a conversation you had always wanted to have.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking up at the vastness of the sky above, a renewed sense of confidence in your voice. “I think the best part of stargazing is knowing how far those stars really are. Like, Betelgeuse, the one in Orion’s shoulder? It’s over 600 light years away. It blows my mind every time I think about it.”

Will’s eyes were wide with awe, and the wonder in his gaze made your heart swell with something akin to joy. It was a shared moment of discovery, of shared fascination, and in that, it felt like you weren’t just pointing out constellations—you were opening up a piece of yourself to him, something that felt deeply personal. “That’s wild. I never realized just how big the universe really is,” he said, his voice full of a quiet admiration that made you feel like the sky itself was a little more beautiful because he was seeing it with you.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pointed out the constellations you knew by heart, your fingers tracing invisible paths in the air. Each constellation felt like a piece of history, like a story told across generations, woven into the fabric of time. You could see Will leaning in, his eyes not just scanning the sky, but following your movements, soaking in every word you spoke, like each fact you shared was something valuable. His gaze was fixed on you as much as it was on the stars. It was as if the constellations, though beautiful, were secondary to the way you were explaining them—your voice, your passion, your connection to the night sky.

And there it was again—this moment of quiet understanding, where the stars didn’t seem so far away. With Will sitting there beside you, his hand intertwined with yours, the universe felt a little smaller, a little warmer. You weren’t just stargazing. You were sharing something sacred, something that grounded you both in the same place, at the same time. The conversation ebbed and flowed, the words now effortless, now playful, now full of wonder. But eventually, the talking slowed, as if the night itself had gently urged you both into a space where silence could exist just as peacefully.

You found yourself falling into that silence, a calm settling in that was deeper than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t awkward or empty. It was a kind of quiet that spoke volumes—a quiet that felt full, like the air around you had thickened with unspoken things. Lying side by side in the hammock, the weight of Will’s arm around you was grounding. It was a presence that enveloped you without ever feeling forced. His warmth seeped into you, the heat from his body mingling with the cool night air, until there was no space between you. His breath, steady and deep, moved in sync with yours, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could just be, without the pull of the world around you demanding more.

And then, without breaking the rhythm, Will shifted, his arm pulling you closer still, his body curling into yours. His lips brushed the top of your head, a soft touch that sent a ripple of warmth through you, before he whispered in a voice that seemed to vibrate with tenderness, “You’re pretty incredible, you know that?”

The words were so simple, so raw in their honesty, but they felt like an anchor. They held you in place, wrapped around you like a promise that neither time nor distance could undo. You looked up at him, heart skipping, caught in the tenderness of his gaze. His eyes were dark, soft with something that left you breathless, something that made you feel as though you had just been seen—not the surface version of you that the world recognized, but the quiet parts, the real parts that only he seemed to know.

And then, without missing a beat, he added, his voice growing softer, more intimate, “You make everything feel special.” His lips curled into that smile, that familiar, genuine warmth that seemed to make the world tilt a little toward the sun. “I don’t know what it is, but with you, everything just feels like it matters.”

Before you could even gather the words to respond, Will closed the space between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and soft. It wasn’t hurried, or frantic. It was the kind of kiss that seemed to make time stretch, slow down, until the whole universe paused, just to allow the moment to exist. His lips were warm against yours, tender, and you found yourself melting into it, caught up in the calm that seemed to flow between you. Your hands moved to his face instinctively, tracing the familiar angles of his jaw, feeling the softness of his skin, the warmth that radiated from him, pulling him closer as though there were nothing in the world that mattered more than this.

The kiss deepened, his hands moving gently to cup your face, as if memorizing the feel of you, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, as though to imprint the sensation of you into his memory. The quiet continued around you—everything still, everything at peace. For a long while, there was only the kiss, only the rhythm of his breathing matching yours, only the steady pulse of warmth from his body against yours. The hammock swayed lightly, the distant crackle of the fire a soft reminder that the world still existed outside of this space, but for now, it didn’t matter.

Will pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady. You stayed there, eyes closed, his presence anchoring you in a way that felt like it could last forever. There was no rush, no sense of time pressing in. Everything was perfect, the night cocooning you both in its stillness, the stars a distant, silent audience to this moment.

Eventually, your breaths slowed, your heart beating a little more quietly in your chest. You shifted just enough to settle into his arms, curling up against him as the cool night air swept around you. His warmth was a comforting contrast, a gentle counterpoint to the chill that hung in the evening air. For a long while, the two of you simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the stars above casting their quiet glow over you both. The distant lapping of the lake against the shore seemed to fade away, as though the world itself had leaned in closer, listening to the soft symphony of the night.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the warmth of his embrace, the steadiness of his presence, lulled you into a peaceful drowsiness. Your body, tucked safely against his, grew heavier with each passing second, the weight of sleep finally pulling you under. You didn’t fight it. The stars above, the lake, and Will beside you were all you needed. With him, this moment felt like the kind of stillness you could rest in forever, as though time itself had slowed, allowing you to simply exist in the quiet joy of the present.

And as sleep overtook you, wrapped in his arms, you knew without a doubt that this, here, with him, was exactly where you were meant to be.

[777bae]

SWEETENER LUKE HUGHES

- A small series of imagines for Luke Hughes, each individually based on a song from the album ‘Sweetener’ by Ariana Grande, all being sfw, though some have suggestive incentives.

TRACK ONE | Raindrops (An Angel Cried)

:: (1.5k) In an empty rink, Luke Hughes breaks your heart, leaving you alone to face the silence and the pain of a love lost forever.

TRACK TWO | God is a Woman

:: (2.1k) In the city’s pulse, you take control of the night, shifting the power between you and Luke. With every move, you leave him breathless, uncertain, and surrendered to your lead.

TRACK THREE | Sweetener

:: (1.2k) In Luke’s embrace, the world fades away. There’s no rush—just the quiet sweetness of being together, where every touch and word makes everything feel right.

TRACK FOUR | Everytime

:: (2.0k) Caught in a toxic cycle, you can’t resist Luke, no matter how many times you swear you’re done. Every time he returns, your walls crumble, and you’re pulled back into his arms, knowing nothing ever truly changes.

TRACK FIVE | Breathin

:: (1.7k) Drowning in anxiety, Luke Hughes becomes your calm, reminding you that with him, you’ll never face it alone.

TRACK SIX | No tears left to cry

:: (1.9k) After months of healing, you run into Luke, and everything you thought you’d moved past comes rushing back. Disoriented and lost, you realize you haven’t truly moved on.

TRACK SEVEN | Borderline

:: (2.3k) As the sun sets over the lake, the distance between you and Luke fades, replaced by his promise to meet you halfway. In his touch and words, you find hope for something real.

TRACK EIGHT | Better off — Coming soon

:: (3.6k) A chance encounter with Luke turns into a deep connection, but your fears and insecurities lead you to walk away, believing he’s better off without you, despite the heartbreak it causes.

TRACK NINE | Goodnight n go — Coming soon

:: (4.0k) You can’t stop thinking about Luke Hughes—the quiet, magnetic presence in your life. From fleeting touches to charged conversations, every moment with him leaves you questioning if he feels the same. Torn between holding on and letting go, you’re left trapped in the ache of almost-love.

[777bae]

BORDERLINE LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: As the sun sets over the lake, the distance between you and Luke Hughes fades, replaced by his promise to meet you halfway. In his touch and words, you find hope for something real.

Warnings :: Minor issues in a relationship

Word count :: 2.3k

The sun sinks lower into the horizon, drenching the world in a golden haze that seems to blur the edges of reality. The lake glows under the soft, waning light, its surface rippling with the faintest movements, reflecting hues of amber and violet. Everything about the scene feels suspended in time—perfect, serene, untouched by the chaos of the outside world. But beneath the surface, you can’t shake the ache that’s been festering in your chest, the heaviness of everything left unsaid.

Luke sits across from you on the faded plaid picnic blanket, his body stretched out as if he’s completely at ease. His hoodie is rumpled, the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, exposing the strong lines of his forearms. His legs are long and relaxed, crossed casually at the ankle. The evening breeze toys with the stray curls falling across his forehead, golden strands catching the last remnants of sunlight. There’s an effortless beauty to him, something raw and magnetic. He doesn’t have to try—he never has.

But tonight, something feels different.

He’s here, physically close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, but emotionally, he feels far away. Too far. And you’re growing tired of closing the distance.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says suddenly, breaking the fragile silence between you. His voice is low, soft, but laced with something more—something careful, measured. It’s like he already knows what’s coming, knows you’re about to say something he isn’t ready to hear.

You glance down, your fingers toying with a blade of grass near the edge of the blanket. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to spill out and leave you vulnerable, exposed. But you’ve held them in for too long, and the weight of them is becoming unbearable.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to say,” you murmur, not looking up. Your voice is quiet, the words barely more than a whisper, but they hang in the air between you, impossibly loud.

Luke shifts, leaning forward slightly, his casual demeanor replaced by something more attentive, more focused. The light catches his face in just the right way, sharpening the lines of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the intensity of his eyes. His brows furrow, his gaze locked on you like he’s trying to read your mind.

“About what?” he asks, his tone cautious but curious.

You hesitate, your chest tightening as you force yourself to meet his eyes. They’re as piercing as ever, impossibly blue, and for a moment, you almost lose your resolve. But the frustration bubbling inside you won’t let you back down.

“I just…” You exhale slowly, your voice faltering before you finally push the words out. “I feel like I’m always the one reaching out. Always the one stepping closer, trying harder. And I’m starting to wonder if you even notice.”

The vulnerability in your words is like a knife between your ribs, sharp and unrelenting. You don’t want to sound desperate, but the truth is, you’re tired of being the one to hold everything together.

Luke’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly, a flicker of guilt darkening his features. “That’s not true,” he says quickly, but there’s no real conviction behind his words.

“It is, Luke,” you insist, your voice steadier now, though your heart hammers against your ribs. “And it’s not fair. I don’t want to keep chasing something if it’s only me doing the chasing. I need you to meet me halfway.”

The air between you grows heavy, the tension wrapping around you both like a tangible force. Luke looks down, his jaw clenching as he processes your words. When he looks back up, his eyes are darker, clouded with something you can’t quite place. Frustration, maybe. Regret.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, tinged with something raw. “I just… I didn’t realize—”

“That’s the problem,” you cut him off, your voice trembling now as emotion floods through you. “You never realize. And I’m not saying you don’t care, but I need to feel it, Luke. I need to know. I can’t keep giving everything if you’re not willing to meet me in the middle.”

For a moment, the only sound is the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore. The world around you feels muted, the hum of the cicadas fading into the background as you sit there, waiting for him to respond.

Then, finally, he moves.

Luke shifts closer, his movements deliberate, unhurried, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away if you want to. His knees brush against yours, sending a jolt of heat through your body despite the coolness of the evening air. His hand lifts, hesitating for the briefest of moments before he cups your cheek, his palm warm against your skin.

His touch is light at first, tentative, as though he’s testing the waters. Then his thumb brushes against your cheekbone, slow and deliberate, the softness of the motion sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re right,” he whispers, his voice barely louder than a breath. His eyes meet yours, and for once, they’re completely unguarded, stripped of the easy confidence he always seems to carry. “I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve let you do all the work, and I hate that I made you feel like it’s one-sided. I swear, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much, and sometimes that scares me. I just… I don’t always know how to show it.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. There’s a rawness in his tone, an honesty that makes your chest ache in a way that’s both painful and relieving.

“You can’t just say it, Luke,” you murmur, your voice trembling despite the steady resolve in your words. “You have to show me.”

“I will,” he promises, his voice firm now, steady despite the emotion brimming in his eyes. His hand drops from your cheek to take yours, his fingers threading through yours like he’s anchoring himself to you. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll meet you where you are—every time. I just need you to give me the chance.”

You search his face, your heart pounding as you take in the sincerity in his expression, the quiet determination in his eyes. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like he’s really here, like he’s finally meeting you halfway.

The sun slips beneath the horizon, leaving the sky cloaked in shades of deep indigo and violet, the last threads of golden light fading into the lake’s surface. The air grows cooler, brushing against your skin with a gentle whisper, but the chill barely registers. All you feel is the heat radiating from Luke beside you, his presence magnetic, anchoring you in a way that makes everything else disappear.

His hand tightens around yours, grounding you even as your heart pounds wildly in your chest. The way his fingers curl against your palm, firm and unyielding, sends a ripple of warmth through you, a stark contrast to the cool evening breeze. Slowly, he leans in, the space between you narrowing until you can feel the faintest brush of his breath against your skin. His forehead touches yours, and the intimacy of the gesture makes your pulse stutter.

Your eyes meet his, and in that moment, everything else fades into the background—the quiet hum of the cicadas, the gentle lapping of the lake, even the ache in your chest that had lingered for weeks. His gaze is steady, searching yours with a kind of quiet intensity that makes your breath catch. It’s as if he’s asking a question he doesn’t dare voice aloud, silently begging you to let him in, to trust that he means every word he’s said tonight.

You exhale softly, a shaky breath slipping past your lips, one you hadn’t realized you’d been holding until now. That single breath seems to echo between the two of you, pulling Luke closer. His lips hover just a whisper away from yours, and for the briefest of moments, time seems to stop. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the soft hitch in his breathing, the way his eyes flicker between your lips and your gaze, searching for something unspoken.

And then, he moves.

Luke closes the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is neither rushed nor hesitant. It’s deliberate, a soft press of warmth that ignites something deep within you. The contact is gentle at first, slow and careful, like he’s savoring every second, but there’s an insistence beneath it, a quiet intensity that speaks of everything he hasn’t been able to say.

His lips are soft, warm, and impossibly tender, moving against yours with a rhythm that feels like a secret only the two of you share. It’s more than just a kiss—it’s an unspoken vow, a confession wrapped in a touch so delicate yet consuming that it makes your entire body hum with electricity.

His hand slides upward, his fingers brushing against your jaw before settling on the side of your face. His touch is achingly gentle, the pad of his thumb sweeping across your cheek in a motion so tender it sends a shiver down your spine. His other hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair with an effortless familiarity that leaves you breathless.

When his thumb begins to stroke the sensitive skin just beneath your ear, the sensation sends warmth rippling through you, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you instinctively lean closer. Your hand lifts, trembling slightly as you press it against his chest. Beneath your palm, you can feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat, strong and unyielding. The sound, the sensation, is grounding and electrifying all at once, a reminder of how real this moment is.

Luke deepens the kiss, his movements slow but purposeful, like he’s savoring every second, every touch, every breath. His lips mold to yours with a perfect precision that makes you feel weightless, like the rest of the world has fallen away and left only the two of you behind. There’s no hesitation in the way he kisses you now—no uncertainty, no fear. It’s just him, wholly and completely present, pouring everything he feels into this one, perfect moment.

It’s not just a kiss; it’s a shift, a breaking point. It’s the moment when all the walls that have kept you apart begin to crack and crumble, leaving nothing but the raw, vulnerable connection between you. Every unspoken word, every unshed tear, every ounce of longing is poured into the way his lips move against yours, into the way he holds you like he’s afraid to let go.

When he finally pulls back, it’s not with reluctance but with intention. His forehead rests gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in short, shallow bursts. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, his hand still cradling the back of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand remains clasped around yours, his thumb brushing soft, deliberate circles over your knuckles, grounding you in his touch.

You keep your eyes closed, savoring the moment, the nearness of him, the warmth of his body surrounding you like a cocoon. His scent—clean and woodsy, with the faintest hint of something familiar—fills your senses, and for the first time in a long while, you feel completely at ease.

His breath is shaky against your lips, his exhale warm and unsteady. There’s tension between you still, but it’s softer now, quieter. Like something unspoken has shifted, like the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has begun to ease.

When you finally open your eyes, his are waiting for you. They’re impossibly blue in the dim light, softened by something you don’t see often—vulnerability. His gaze holds yours, raw and unguarded, and it takes your breath away. You’ve always loved his eyes, but tonight, they seem to hold so much more. They’re apologetic and hopeful all at once, filled with the weight of his unspoken promises.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, the sound of it brushing against your skin. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll meet you where you are—every time. No more distance. I swear.”

His words linger in the air, and you feel them settle in your chest, wrapping around your heart like a tether. You want to believe him, and for the first time in weeks—months, maybe—you feel like you can.

Your fingers tighten slightly against his chest, your thumb brushing over the fabric of his hoodie as you let the moment sink in. You lean into him, your head resting lightly against his chest, and his arms come around you instantly, pulling you close. His embrace is strong but gentle, his hands splayed across your back, holding you like he’s afraid to let go.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is hypnotic, calming the storm inside you. You close your eyes again, letting yourself relax into him, letting yourself believe—for now—that this moment is real, that his promises aren’t just words.

The night deepens around you, the sky darkening to a rich navy blue dotted with the first hints of starlight. The air is cool now, but his warmth surrounds you, chasing away any lingering chill. His thumb strokes soft circles against your back, a soothing motion that makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

There’s still work to be done, still gaps to close, but as Luke holds you in his arms, the weight of the world seems to fade. The walls that once felt insurmountable are beginning to crumble, and for the first time in a long time, the distance between you doesn’t feel so far.

[777bae]

SWEETENER LUKE HUGHES

- A small series of imagines for Luke Hughes, each individually based on a song from the album ‘Sweetener’ by Ariana Grande, all being sfw, though some have suggestive incentives.

TRACK ONE | Raindrops (An Angel Cried)

:: (1.5k) In an empty rink, Luke Hughes breaks your heart, leaving you alone to face the silence and the pain of a love lost forever.

TRACK TWO | God is a Woman

:: (2.1k) In the city’s pulse, you take control of the night, shifting the power between you and Luke. With every move, you leave him breathless, uncertain, and surrendered to your lead.

TRACK THREE | Sweetener

:: (1.2k) In Luke’s embrace, the world fades away. There’s no rush—just the quiet sweetness of being together, where every touch and word makes everything feel right.

TRACK FOUR | Everytime

:: (2.0k) Caught in a toxic cycle, you can’t resist Luke, no matter how many times you swear you’re done. Every time he returns, your walls crumble, and you’re pulled back into his arms, knowing nothing ever truly changes.

TRACK FIVE | Breathin

:: (1.7k) Drowning in anxiety, Luke Hughes becomes your calm, reminding you that with him, you’ll never face it alone.

TRACK SIX | No tears left to cry

:: (1.9k) After months of healing, you run into Luke, and everything you thought you’d moved past comes rushing back. Disoriented and lost, you realize you haven’t truly moved on.

TRACK SEVEN | Borderline — Coming soon

:: (2.3k) As the sun sets over the lake, the distance between you and Luke fades, replaced by his promise to meet you halfway. In his touch and words, you find hope for something real.

TRACK EIGHT | Better off — Coming soon

:: (3.6k) A chance encounter with Luke turns into a deep connection, but your fears and insecurities lead you to walk away, believing he’s better off without you, despite the heartbreak it causes.

TRACK NINE | Goodnight n go — Coming soon

:: (4.0k) You can’t stop thinking about Luke Hughes—the quiet, magnetic presence in your life. From fleeting touches to charged conversations, every moment with him leaves you questioning if he feels the same. Torn between holding on and letting go, you’re left trapped in the ache of almost-love.

[777bae]

NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: After months of healing, you run into Luke, and everything you thought you’d moved past comes rushing back. Disoriented and lost, you realize you haven’t truly moved on.

Warnings :: post-break up sorrows

Word count :: 1.9k

You weren’t ready for this. Not after everything. Not after the months you had spent crawling, piece by piece, out of the hole his absence had created in your life. You had thought that time would heal the wounds, that the ache would lessen until you could look back at the relationship with a sense of closure, of peace. But peace had been a foreign concept, fleeting and unreachable. And standing here now, surrounded by familiar faces, in a room that used to hold so many shared memories, you realized how wrong you had been. The quiet had settled in, yes, but it was the kind of quiet that left too much room for your mind to wander. It was in this silence that you had started to rebuild, to create a life that didn’t require him. You had forced yourself to think you were okay. You had learned to exist in a world without him, convinced that time had softened the sharpness of the pain.

But this? This moment? You were nowhere near ready for it.

As soon as you stepped into the room, the disorientation hit. You tried to steady your breathing, but it felt impossible. Everything around you seemed to collapse in on itself, a blur of faces and voices that became indistinct and distant, all of it fading away except for him. Luke. His presence was like gravity, pulling you in, while everything else spun around you, dizzying and unsteady. The room was the same, the people were the same, but the world you had known suddenly didn’t make sense. It wasn’t just the sight of him that made everything tilt. It was the overwhelming feeling of how much had changed—how much you had tried to change—and yet, how much of it had been in vain.

You had come here with the intention of being okay. You had spent months trying to convince yourself that you could move forward, that the pieces of your life could fall back into place. You had distracted yourself with work, with friends, with the little things that kept you from staring too deeply into the hole of your grief. But now, standing here, watching him move effortlessly through the room, interacting with people like he had never been a part of your life, it hit you. The life you had tried to rebuild didn’t feel real anymore. It was like you were playing a role, trying to be someone you no longer recognized. The world that had once been so familiar felt foreign, twisted into something unrecognizable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself along the way.

The disorientation wasn’t just emotional. It was physical. The room seemed to spin, and for a moment, the noise around you turned into a muffled hum. Your head felt heavy, and your chest tightened, as if the air in the room was suddenly too thick to breathe. The familiar faces, the familiar sounds—none of it mattered. Your eyes, your heart, your mind—they were all focused on him. Luke. His smile was still the same, effortless, and warm, but it wasn’t for you anymore. The ease in his laugh, the way he moved through the crowd—it was a stark contrast to the tangled mess of emotions that had been buried deep inside of you, emotions you had spent months trying to suffocate, trying to bury. And here they were, clawing their way back to the surface, pulling you under.

You felt like you were drowning. His presence was the anchor, but it was the kind that dragged you down further, into a place where you didn’t know how to swim anymore.

For months, you had tried to rebuild your life, to find solid ground again. You told yourself that you were okay. You told yourself that you didn’t need him to be happy, that you could find your own way, that you could survive without him. You had thrown yourself into work, into the arms of friends who tried their best to understand, into hobbies that took your mind off the ache that never truly left. You had found distractions. But now, standing here, surrounded by this old, familiar chaos, you realized how much you had lost. How much of your life had been spent pretending to move on when, in reality, you had been spinning in place, unable to make sense of anything.

Luke had moved on. That much was clear. It was in the way he stood, the way he spoke to people, the way his gaze shifted across the room with an ease you had long forgotten. He had figured it out. He had found a way to keep going, to keep living, and to let go of the past. He had found his rhythm again. His life had continued, resumed its natural flow, while yours had fractured into a thousand pieces that you still hadn’t figured out how to put back together.

You had spent so long trying to hide from the truth—that his absence had torn something inside of you, something you could never repair. But now, as your eyes found his across the room, you felt it, the truth crashing into you all at once. The weight of everything that had been lost, of everything that could never be again, came flooding back with the force of a tidal wave. You couldn’t outrun it, couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t ignore it.

When your eyes met his, it wasn’t just a passing glance. It was a collision.

His gaze wasn’t quite the same as it had been when you were together. There was a softness there, an understanding that hadn’t been present before. But it was different. He wasn’t the same Luke who used to be yours. That version of him had faded, just as you had faded. And now, here, in front of you, stood a man you didn’t know. A man who had moved on, who had learned to exist without you. And you? You were left trying to find your footing in a world that felt like it had been tilted off its axis.

The confusion washed over you, an overwhelming, disorienting wave of emotion that you couldn’t control. You had spent so long convincing yourself that you were okay—that you had healed, that you had moved on—but this moment shattered that illusion. You hadn’t moved on at all. The ache was back, sharper now, mingling with disbelief. How had you gotten here again? How had it all unraveled so quickly? You had thought that the wound had closed, but here it was, wide open again, bleeding through your carefully constructed walls.

Your chest tightened, and your breath caught in your throat. The air felt thick, suffocating. Your heart raced, a frantic rhythm you couldn’t escape. You opened your mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. It wasn’t just the devastation of seeing him again—it was the realization that your life no longer made sense. The world that had been so certain, so structured, was now nothing more than a blur. The ground beneath your feet no longer felt stable. The person you had tried to become—the person you thought you had become—was slipping away from you. And in that moment, you realized that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time had passed, you couldn’t outrun the reality of who you were without him.

The tears you had cried over the months were gone. They had dried up long ago, leaving behind a hollow ache that never quite went away. You had mourned, you had grieved, you had forced yourself to believe that you were okay. But seeing him here, so effortlessly existing in this world without you, reminded you of the raw emptiness you had never been able to fill. You had learned to live with it, to carry it, but now it was suffocating you again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm, but it sounded distant, unfamiliar. It was like hearing a song you once loved, but now couldn’t quite recognize. He had always had this soothing presence, this way of making everything feel okay, but now it was like he was a stranger, and you were a stranger to him too. The distance between you wasn’t just physical. It was a chasm, an expanse of time and memories that had faded into something unrecognizable.

“Hey,” you whispered back, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay composed. You forced a smile, but it felt fragile, like it might shatter if you moved too suddenly. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to explain the confusion that was clouding your mind, the whirlpool of emotions that threatened to pull you under. You wanted to be calm. You wanted to be strong. But the truth was that you were neither of those things.

You had spent so much time trying to convince yourself that you had moved on, that you had rebuilt your life, but now, standing here, you realized how fragile that belief had been. How hollow it had become. You weren’t okay. You were lost.

In that moment, you understood something you hadn’t fully grasped before: You weren’t just grieving the loss of him. You were grieving the life you had once lived. The life that no longer made sense. The life you had tried to rebuild, but had somehow never quite fit. You had spent so long trying to outrun the pain, trying to find a new path, but you never stopped to ask yourself if that path was even real. If it was you.

The truth hit you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t fine. You weren’t okay. You were lost. Lost in the confusion of who you were without him, lost in the disorientation of everything around you changing, shifting, while you were still standing in place, stuck in the wreckage of everything you had lost.

You looked at him again, his eyes soft, searching, trying to make sense of your reaction. He couldn’t understand. How could he? How could he possibly understand what it felt like to have everything you thought you knew about your life turn upside down? How could he know what it was like to feel like you were drowning, to feel like the world was moving forward while you were stuck in the past?

You wanted to say something. You wanted to tell him that you had tried to move on, that you had tried to be strong. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you stood there, the confusion swirling inside you, making it impossible to find your footing. You wanted to be someone else—someone who wasn’t standing here, feeling the weight of this disorientation, someone who wasn’t trapped in the echo of a past that would never be again. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape what had been.

No, there were no more tears left to cry. But there was something else. A quiet devastation, a hollow ache that had followed you through the months, that still clung to you even now. It wasn’t the same kind of pain as before. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t fresh. It was something heavier, something that weighed on you, something that made it impossible to move forward, impossible to let go. You couldn’t outrun the past, couldn’t escape what was still lodged deep inside of you.

You couldn’t outrun him.

[777bae]

FIVE CHANCES AND ONE KISS QUINN HUGHES

Summary :: Five times Quinn has the chance to kiss you, and one time he takes that chance.

Warnings :: holding back, kissing

Word count :: 5.8k

1. The First Chance – After a Game Win

The game is over, and the cheers of the crowd are still ringing in Quinn’s ears, but it’s not the roar of the fans that has his heart racing—it’s the thought of you. He knows you’re out there somewhere, in the stands, eyes fixed on him, waiting for him like you always do. His skates leave the ice with the weight of the game finally lifted, but now there’s something else pulling at him, something deeper.

As Quinn skates off the rink, past his teammates who are congratulating him on the win, he’s not paying attention to any of it. All he can focus on is the way the arena feels smaller now, the noise almost fading out completely. His eyes search the crowd, and when they find you, standing by the barrier with that bright, encouraging smile on your face, it feels like the entire world falls away. The lights above, the roar of the crowd, everything just fades into the background, and the only thing that matters in that moment is you.

His heart picks up its pace. You’re here, you’ve been here all along, and somehow, he’s always known that when the game ends, it’s you he wants to see most. Quinn can’t stop the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips as his eyes lock with yours. The warmth of your gaze wraps around him, and he can’t help but feel grounded in it. It’s like everything else has been a blur, but the second he looks at you, time seems to stand still.

He skates toward the edge of the ice, trying not to get distracted, but when you wave at him, his pulse quickens. There’s no one else around, no teammates or fans in his mind, just you—your excitement, your pride.

“You were amazing!” you shout, your voice rising over the last of the crowd’s cheers, but to Quinn, it sounds like music. You’re looking at him like he’s the most important person in the room, and that look in your eyes makes him feel more alive than any goal or play ever could.

Quinn blushes slightly, his cheeks flushing from the warmth of your words. He wants to say something back, something to express how much hearing that from you means to him, but instead, he just grins, his chest tight with a mix of happiness and something else—something he’s been feeling more and more around you lately.

“I really wanted to make you proud tonight,” he says, his voice carrying a slight rasp from the exertion of the game, but the sincerity is clear. His gaze never leaves yours, as if searching for something in your eyes, something that says you understand just how much that means to him.

You smile softly, your eyes glowing with affection, and your voice drops to a near whisper, just for him to hear. “You always make me proud.”

The simple statement fills him up, and for a moment, everything else—his achievements, the game, the celebrations—fades away. You’re here, and in this moment, it’s all that matters. Your eyes are locked on him, and he sees something in them—a softness, a warmth—that makes his heart skip a beat. He can feel the space between you shrinking, the weight of this moment settling in like it’s the only one that counts.

He takes a step closer to you, his hand moving slightly toward yours as if his body knows what he wants before his mind can process it. The air between you two feels charged now, electric, like the world is holding its breath. He’s so close now, so close he can almost taste the air around you. You both feel it—the gravity pulling you together, the undeniable desire to close the distance.

Quinn’s gaze flickers down to your lips, and it’s like everything else disappears. His heartbeat is so loud in his chest, he’s sure you can hear it. He leans in slightly, his body almost touching yours, and you can feel his breath, warm and steady against your skin. His eyes never leave yours as he inches closer, and for a heartbeat, everything feels suspended in time.

He’s so close, so incredibly close, that you can feel the pull between you two, like a magnet drawing you together. You can’t help but lean in a little, your lips parting slightly, your breath catching in anticipation.

But just as your faces are about to meet, a loud clap on Quinn’s back jolts him out of the moment.

“Hey, good job, Quinn!” one of his teammates calls, breaking the spell. Quinn’s body freezes, and for a split second, he feels the warmth of your closeness slip away, replaced by the sudden rush of noise around him.

He takes a deep breath, blinking a few times, as if trying to reorient himself. Reluctantly, he steps back, the distance between you both suddenly feeling unbearable. His heart is still racing, but it’s not from the game anymore. It’s because he knows he almost kissed you. Almost.

With a small, apologetic smile, Quinn turns toward the team, throwing a quick look over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” he says softly, his voice just for you. He doesn’t wait for a response, afraid that if he does, he’ll say something he shouldn’t, or maybe do something he’s not ready for.

You watch him leave, your heart heavy with the ‘almost’ of it all. The moment was there—right there, within your grasp—but now it’s slipping away. Still, there’s something more in the air now, something unspoken between you both. That feeling, that undeniable pull, is still there. It’s only a matter of time before the right moment comes again. And when it does, neither of you will let it slip away.

2. The Second Chance – During the Drive Home

The car hums steadily as Quinn drives, the rhythm of the tires on the road a comforting backdrop to the stillness between you. The city lights streak past the windows, their bright glow illuminating the otherwise dark night, but inside the car, the atmosphere feels a little different—a little charged. You’re not sure if it’s the lingering warmth of the evening, the closeness between you both, or something else entirely, but there’s an undeniable tension. It’s the kind of tension that lingers in the air like static electricity, and neither of you has acknowledged it, but you both feel it.

The silence between you is easy, but it’s also heavy, like something unsaid floats between you two, waiting for its moment to break free. It’s a comfortable kind of silence, but with every passing second, it feels more like it’s about to shift into something more.

You glance over at Quinn, watching the way his hand rests lightly on the steering wheel, his fingers flexing as he adjusts his grip. As you let your gaze linger for just a moment too long, your fingers brush against his on the center console—just the faintest flicker of contact, enough to make your heart skip a beat. The touch is light, almost accidental, but it’s enough to send a spark through your chest. You quickly pull your hand back, not sure if Quinn even noticed, but you feel it deep in your chest—the soft warmth of his skin against yours.

Quinn shifts in his seat, his hand slightly turning, and for a second, you wonder if he’s going to reach for yours again. But then, he asks, his voice breaking the silence, “Did you have fun tonight?”

You blink, your mind momentarily distracted by the heat from his touch, and you shift your attention back to the road ahead. “Yeah, I did,” you reply, your voice steady, though there’s a hint of a smile in it. “It was nice to get out.”

You both fall quiet again, and this time, the silence feels like it’s pressing in on you, filling the space between you two. The hum of the tires on the road fills your ears, but it’s barely audible over the pulse in your chest, the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

Quinn shifts in his seat, and his voice, when it comes again, is softer than before, almost tentative, like he’s testing the waters. “I like when we just hang out, you know?” he says, his tone quieter than usual, more vulnerable. “It’s… easy with you.”

His words catch you off guard, settling in your chest like something both simple and significant. The sincerity in his voice warms you, making the tension between you both feel a little lighter, but it also makes your pulse quicken, because you know there’s something deeper in those words than just casual friendship. You feel it too—the way things feel different when it’s just the two of you, when the noise of the world fades away and it’s just him and you in a car, in this moment.

“I know,” you say softly, your voice a little breathier than you intended, but the smile that tugs at your lips is genuine, warm. “Yeah, me too.”

But the moment doesn’t quite break. The quiet hangs in the air like a delicate thread between you two, and you both feel it, the awareness of each other, the distance between you two shortening with every passing second. The words don’t seem necessary anymore. The shared look is enough. You both know what’s there, what’s been there all along.

Quinn’s hand shifts again on the steering wheel, his fingers brushing against yours once more, this time a little more intentionally, like he’s giving you the choice to move closer, to let the contact linger. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours, a gentle, electric pulse that runs straight to your chest. It’s like everything inside of you shifts at that touch—your breath catching in your throat, your heart thudding a little harder.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and for a split second, you catch his gaze. The look in his eyes sends a ripple of heat through your body. He’s looking at you with something there, something unspoken, and it makes the air between you feel impossibly thick. Neither of you says anything. You both just hold that look, the car shrinking around you, and for a heartbeat, it feels like everything else in the world disappears.

For one moment, it’s just the two of you in this small space, the connection between you undeniable. His breath hitches, and you can feel the tension between you both—unspoken, but powerful.

But then, just as quickly as it had happened, Quinn pulls his hand away, the warmth of his touch slipping from your skin. It’s a small movement, but it feels heavy, the way he quickly pulls back like he’s second-guessing himself. He clears his throat, his voice a little flustered, as if he’s trying to regain control of the moment that had gotten away from him.

“I—sorry,” he says, his words coming out a little more rushed than usual. You can hear the regret in his voice, though he doesn’t make eye contact.

You feel a slight pang in your chest at the distance that’s suddenly there between you, but you quickly shake your head, trying to brush it off. “No, it’s okay,” you reply, your voice soft, hoping that he knows it’s really fine. That the moment isn’t lost, that it’s still there, lingering in the space between you two.

But the moment is gone, the air between you both heavy with unspoken things, with what-ifs and maybes. Quinn keeps his gaze focused on the road now, but you can sense the shift in him—the way his hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter, the way his posture stiffens. The energy in the car has changed, and for the rest of the drive, it lingers between you both like an unfinished thought, something both of you can’t help but feel but don’t know how to address.

The ‘what if’ hangs heavy between you two, unspoken but undeniable. Neither of you can help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this would be the time—if the distance would shrink, if the tension would finally give way to what you both want but haven’t dared to ask for. But for now, the drive continues, and with it, that heavy silence.

3. The Third Chance – After Your First Argument

The fight had been small, but the words still lingered like a bitter taste in your mouth, and the space between you two felt wider than it ever had before. The two of you sat at opposite ends of the couch, a chasm of silence stretching out between you. The TV was on, but neither of you were paying it any attention. It played on in the background, but the noise only served to highlight how quiet everything else had become. The frustration that hung in the air was thick, suffocating, and despite the tension, neither of you seemed willing to break it.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, until finally, Quinn spoke, his voice softer than usual, the weight of something unspoken heavy in the words. “I didn’t mean it, you know? I didn’t mean what I said.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and you turn your head to look at him. There’s something in his eyes—something vulnerable, maybe even guilty, and it tugs at you. You can see it in the way he holds himself, in the way his shoulders are tense, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything. His sincerity is there, but the sting from the argument still burns deep inside you.

“I know you didn’t,” you respond, your voice softer now, but there’s still a weight to it, a tremble that betrays the hurt. “But it hurt.”

You see his chest rise and fall with a long breath as he nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” Quinn says, his voice low, almost like a confession. He’s leaning forward now, his body language open and raw. There’s no bravado, no walls, just him—vulnerable, real, and apologetic. His gaze locks with yours, and you can feel that ache inside your chest start to ease just a little. The words are enough to chip away at the anger, to start mending the rift that had formed between you two, but the wound is still there, still tender.

Your heart softens, and without thinking, you sit up from your end of the couch, moving a little closer to him. The space between you two feels different now—almost electric, like the distance between you had shrunk to a thin line of tension, and the air around you both crackled with the anticipation of what could come next. The argument, the hurt, it seemed insignificant now, as if it were something that could be pushed aside, just for this moment. It was strange how quickly things could shift, how easily the past few minutes could feel like they no longer mattered.

Quinn shifts slightly as well, the subtle movement of his knee brushing against yours. The contact is fleeting, but it sends a jolt of warmth through both of you, an unspoken connection that doesn’t need words. Your pulse quickens, and for a split second, it feels like everything could be different—like you could erase the tension, the hurt, and just let it be between you two.

He looks at you, his hand twitching slightly on the armrest as if it’s fighting the urge to reach for you. You can see the struggle in his eyes—the want to close that distance between you both, but the hesitation, the uncertainty of whether or not it’s the right time, the right moment. His lips part, and for a brief second, it seems like he might speak again, but then his eyes find yours once more, and that’s when the world feels like it narrows, as if the entire room shrinks, leaving just the two of you in this fragile, suspended moment.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn says again, his voice barely above a whisper. The words fall from his lips like a confession, like he’s offering his apology to you for more than just the fight. It’s the kind of apology that feels like it goes deeper than a simple disagreement—it’s the kind of apology that carries all the weight of emotions neither of you have fully addressed yet. His sincerity hangs in the air, thick and palpable.

You feel the heat in your chest, the knot in your stomach loosening as you look at him. “I know,” you whisper back, your words a soft, understanding murmur. You don’t need to say more—he’s already said everything he needed to say, and the softness in your voice is enough to show him that you’ve heard him, that you’re ready to move past it.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels thick with possibility. There’s a quiet kind of tension between you now, but it’s different from before. It’s charged, expectant. You can feel his gaze on you, the heat of his presence, and you know he’s just as aware of the closeness between you as you are. His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and for a second, everything in the room seems to slow. The space between you two feels like it’s shrinking with every heartbeat, with every breath you both take. His lips part slightly, and you feel your own heart rate pick up, your body tensing in anticipation.

He leans forward ever so slightly, just enough to make you wonder if this time, maybe, this time it’ll happen. You can feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, your chest tightening in anticipation of what feels like the inevitable. And yet, just as you both are on the edge of something, just as it feels like you’re about to cross that line, Quinn pulls back abruptly, the space between you widening again.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, the motion quick and almost desperate. “We’ll figure this out,” he says, his voice softer, but you can hear the uncertainty in it now. He looks away, his gaze drifting toward the floor, and the weight of the moment slips from the air, leaving the room feeling heavier than before.

You exhale slowly, disappointed but understanding. It wasn’t the right time. It couldn’t be, not yet. But it doesn’t make the longing go away. The “what if” of the moment lingers between you, unanswered, suspended in the air, and you can’t help but feel that pang in your chest—a mix of longing and regret.

Still, you know that things aren’t over. The space between you two isn’t as wide as it had been before. There’s something in the way he looks at you now, something in the way he holds himself that tells you this isn’t the end of it, not by a long shot. But for now, the moment is gone, and neither of you knows quite what to say next. The silence falls once again, but this time, it’s different. It’s quieter, heavier with the weight of what was almost, but wasn’t, but still might be.

4. The Fourth Chance – On a Quiet Night In

The room is calm and peaceful, wrapped in a quiet stillness that seems to hold time itself at bay. You’re both curled up on the couch, close but not quite touching, the soft hum of the world outside barely reaching you. The gentle glow of the lamp casts shadows along the walls, creating a warm, intimate atmosphere that makes everything feel a little slower, a little more connected. There’s no rush, no expectations—just the quiet comfort of being together, of sharing a moment without the pressure of the world outside.

You’ve both settled into this peaceful silence, the kind that only comes when two people are comfortable in each other’s presence. The weight of the day is gone, and there’s a sense of contentment that fills the space between you. It’s rare, these moments of simplicity, but it feels right. It feels like everything else can wait.

After a while, Quinn breaks the silence, his voice low, almost a murmur, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet but feels the need to speak anyway. “You know,” he says, his tone thoughtful, “I really enjoy spending time like this with you. No games. No pressure. Just… this.”

His words settle in the air between you, a soft confession that feels more vulnerable than he probably intended. You glance at him, your heart warming at the sincerity in his voice, the way he’s being so open, so real. There’s a quiet honesty in his words that pulls at something deep inside you, making you realize how much you cherish these moments together, how much you’ve come to rely on them.

You smile, turning slightly toward him, your eyes meeting his. “I like it too,” you reply, your voice softer than usual, your heart already in your throat. “Just… being with you.”

The air between you both feels different now, charged with a quiet understanding, the kind that only comes when two people are on the same wavelength. You’re close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath. It’s a silent exchange, but it says everything—how comfortable you are, how much you value these moments, how much you’ve come to mean to each other.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. It’s as if the whole world has slowed down, like the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for something. It’s a subtle shift in the air, a subtle change in the way you’re both looking at each other. There’s an unspoken connection that lingers, one that feels deeper than words. Your gaze locks with his, and you feel the weight of it, the intensity of his look. His eyes are soft, but there’s something in them—a depth, a sincerity—that makes your heart skip a beat. The space between you feels smaller now, the silence thick with the unspoken.

Quinn shifts a little closer, his body angling toward you, his hand resting gently on the arm of the couch. His fingers twitch slightly, as if fighting an urge, as if he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he should. The moment hangs there, suspended in time, the air between you both charged with anticipation. Your lips part, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of the moment, as if this is the point where everything could change, where the connection between you could finally be made real in the most intimate way.

But then Quinn shifts again, his hand pulling away from the arm of the couch, creating just enough space between you that the moment slips through your fingers. The tension is still there, still thick, but now there’s a sense of hesitation, an uncertainty that fills the air. He smiles, but it’s a small, wistful smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and for a brief moment, you wonder what’s going on inside his head.

“I… don’t know what’s holding me back,” he admits quietly, his voice almost to himself, like he’s trying to figure it out as he says it. The words carry a weight of vulnerability, and you can see it in the way he looks at you, in the way he’s holding himself back, even though it’s clear that he wants to move closer. You can sense the conflict within him, the push and pull of his feelings. He wants this, you can tell, but something is stopping him—something that neither of you have said, but you both feel.

Your heart aches at the hesitation, the uncertainty in his words, because you can feel it too—the tension, the waiting. You want to tell him that it’s okay, that you understand, but it’s hard to find the right words. Instead, you simply smile, your fingers gently brushing his as you reach out, offering him the comfort of your touch, the reassurance that everything doesn’t need to be perfect right now.

“When it’s the right time,” you say softly, your voice a quiet murmur, “you’ll know.”

You both hold that moment for a breath longer, the space between you still thick with unspoken things. The words hang in the air, lingering like a promise, like an understanding that doesn’t need to be rushed, doesn’t need to be forced. The connection between you is there, clear and undeniable, and in that moment, you both know that it’s only a matter of time. When the right time comes, it’ll be real. But for now, you’re content with the simplicity of this—just being together, sharing this quiet, beautiful moment.

And just like that, the moment slips away, but it doesn’t feel like a loss. You both know it’s not over; it’s just waiting for the right moment, for the time when everything aligns. But for now, you sit in the warmth of each other’s presence, content, connected, and still.

5. The Fifth Chance – After You Tell Him You’re Proud

The evening is a rare kind of stillness, one that settles over everything like a blanket, calming the world around you. The noise of the day has faded, and the only sounds left are the soft hum of the city below, the distant murmur of traffic, and the occasional rustle of the wind moving through the trees. You’re sitting together on the balcony, your legs tucked underneath you, a comfortable distance between you, but close enough that you can feel the warmth of Quinn’s presence beside you. The city lights stretch out before you, a mosaic of golds and blues twinkling in the distance, but it feels as though the entire world is silent except for the two of you.

The conversation between you both flows easily, naturally—nothing forced, no pressure, just the comfort of being together. There’s an effortless rhythm to it, but as the moments pass, it becomes clear that there’s something more in the air, something unspoken that both of you can feel but haven’t fully acknowledged. It’s a quiet understanding, one that lingers beneath the surface, weaving its way through the conversation without either of you saying a word about it.

You shift slightly, taking a breath, and then you speak, your voice soft and sincere, breaking the silence in a way that feels almost intimate. “You know, Quinn,” you start, the words coming slowly but with intention, “I’m really proud of you. For everything. All the hard work you put in. The way you lead, on and off the ice… it doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Quinn turns to look at you, his expression shifting as he processes your words. There’s a moment of stillness, and you can see the surprise in his eyes, the vulnerability in the way he regards you. It’s as if he didn’t expect this, and yet, the sincerity in your voice seems to settle into him, like a quiet affirmation that he didn’t know he needed but now feels deeply. His lips curve into a small, genuine smile, the corners of his eyes softening as he takes in your words. “That means everything to me,” he says, his voice low, full of gratitude and a warmth that makes your heart swell. “I don’t know what to say… but thank you.”

You can feel the weight of his words, the truth behind them, and your chest fills with something soft and sincere in return. There’s a deep sense of connection between you both, something unspoken that binds you together, and in this moment, it feels like everything is aligned in a way that’s almost perfect. You smile back at him, your heart full as you reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“I just wanted you to know that,” you continue, your voice steady and sure. “You’re incredible. I see it. And I just… I wanted you to know that I notice.”

Quinn’s gaze doesn’t leave yours, and you can feel the intensity of it now, how his eyes linger on you, searching your face as if he’s looking for something—maybe for reassurance, maybe for confirmation of what he already feels deep inside. The world outside fades, the city lights dimming in comparison to the way his presence fills the space between you. There’s a quiet tension in the air now, a shift that neither of you can ignore. It’s as if the weight of everything you’ve both felt—everything that’s been building over time—has finally caught up with you, and for the first time, it feels like this moment might be the one that changes everything.

Quinn’s eyes flicker to your lips, and then back to your eyes, and in the silence that follows, it’s as though time itself slows down. You can feel the gravity of the moment, the pull between you both, and before you even realize it, Quinn is leaning closer, his movements slow and deliberate, his hand resting lightly on the arm of the couch beside you. The space between you has closed, and you’re so close now that you can feel the heat of his body radiating toward you, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours.

His lips hover just inches from yours, and the anticipation is almost too much to bear. The air between you feels charged, the weight of everything you’ve both been holding back lingering just under the surface. You can hear the steady beat of your heart, feel the thrum of electricity in your veins as you look at him, and for a moment, everything else in the world disappears. It’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile, perfect space, and you know that this is the moment—the moment you’ve both been waiting for.

And then, without any further hesitation, Quinn closes the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, gentlest of kisses. It’s a kiss that feels like it’s been building for a lifetime, like every second, every look, every smile has led to this exact moment. There’s no uncertainty now, no second-guessing. It’s simple and pure, the kind of kiss that feels like coming home, like everything has finally fallen into place. His lips are warm and tender against yours, and for those few seconds, it’s as if the world has stopped spinning, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, suspended moment.

When you pull away, it’s slow, a lingering touch that leaves your lips tingling, your heart racing. Your eyes meet, and there’s a shared understanding between you both—relief, joy, and something deeper that words can’t quite capture. You smile at each other, the kind of smile that speaks volumes, full of everything you’ve both wanted and needed to say but hadn’t yet found the courage to.

Quinn’s forehead rests gently against yours, his breath coming just a little faster than usual, and his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, as though he’s confessing something that’s been on his heart for too long. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admits, the words soft but filled with such emotion that it sends a wave of warmth through your chest.

“I know,” you reply, your voice quiet but sure. The understanding between you is palpable, and there’s no need for further explanation. You’ve both known, deep down, that this was coming, that this connection was always there, waiting for the right moment. And now, here it is.

Without another word, you kiss him again. This time, it’s different. It’s not just a kiss—it’s the culmination of everything you’ve both held inside for so long, the frustration of the distance between you, the longing that’s grown with each moment of hesitation, the quiet understanding that’s passed between your eyes and your words. It’s the relief of finally letting go, the silent promise that this moment, this kiss, is everything you’ve both been waiting for.

As your lips meet his again, there’s a tenderness to it, like he’s savoring every second, as if he’s afraid this might slip away, that maybe if he doesn’t hold on tight enough, it will be gone before it’s fully real. His hand moves to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone, grounding you both in this moment. The warmth of his touch spreads through you, sparking a fire that matches the intensity of the kiss.

You feel the tension melt away, the knot in your chest unraveling as you lean into him, your body responding instinctively, your heart pounding with a rhythm that matches his own. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, as though neither of you wants to rush it, wants to savor the moment, to make sure it lasts. His lips are soft but insistent against yours, and you can taste the sweetness of everything unspoken—every glance, every shared silence, every secret that’s finally been revealed without words.

Your hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. It’s real. This is real. You can feel the way his heartbeat speeds up in time with your own, the way the warmth between you both expands, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon, shutting the world out. All that exists right now is him and you—the softness of his lips, the press of his body against yours, the unmistakable feeling of everything falling into place.

There’s a desperate need in the kiss now, a hunger that you didn’t know you’d been holding inside until it spilled over into this moment. It’s not frantic, though. It’s patient, gentle, as if you both understand the weight of what this is, the depth of what’s being shared. You can feel the muscles in his back shift as he pulls you closer, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, holding you in place, but it’s not controlling—it’s protective. He’s pulling you in not to claim you, but to hold you, as though he never wants to let you go.

The world outside seems to vanish, fading into nothingness, and the only thing left is the warm press of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the rhythm of his breath. Every inch of your skin feels alive, charged, the connection between you two so intense that it’s almost overwhelming. Your pulse quickens, your breath catching in your throat, and you find yourself pulling him even closer, if that’s even possible, your hands threading through his hair, grounding yourself in the softness of him.

For a fleeting moment, it feels like time itself has stopped. There’s no past, no future, only this—this kiss, this moment that you’ll both carry with you for as long as you live. It’s everything you both needed, everything you’ve both wanted, and the knowledge that something has shifted between you. This isn’t just a kiss; it’s the beginning of something new, something real, something that’s been years in the making but finally, finally, feels right.

[777bae]

Hi lovelies, I just thought I’d drop in to tell you all that I have seen all your kind messages and really appreciate them! The requests are taking much longer than expected (motivation can be an ass sometimes) so I’ll likely post a couple of pre-written fics I already have in my drafts so look out for those. I’m so sorry for taking forever to post, my life has just grown so busy but I’m hoping it will die down in a few weeks for me to be able to return to writing these like a maniac 😭. Please do feel free to continue requesting however as I’m also in a writers stump and so have no ideas anyways (maybe for the less written players? my masterlist is looking STACKED for the sj sharks lol). Anyways I love you all and make sure to take care of yourselves!

[777bae]

Hi my loves, I just thought I should drop in and let you all know that I've had a few things going on in my personal life recently that have been taking up a lot of the free time I use to create fics, so unfortunately I haven't been able to write as efficiently as I have been doing previously. All requested fics and ideas will be written (eventually, I can promise you that), however just at a much slower rate. Apologies as I know many of you enjoy reading my fics and how quickly I am able to post them, but life has just become very busy. Do feel free to keep requesting, I just can't guarantee when I will be able to publish it. Thank you and I love you all. x

[777bae]

I'm only doing this because you're cute."

james hagens with a grump gf and he wants to show her off so much and match their outfits to a hockey event and he pours until she says yes

Here you go, hope you enjoy! x

[777bae]

WINNING WITH YOU JAMES HAGENS

Summary :: James is relentless—grinning, pleading, pulling out every trick in the book to get you into a matching outfit for the hockey event. You refuse, of course. But when he wraps you up in his warmth, whispering promises and pressing soft kisses to your temple, resistance starts to feel impossible. (REQUESTED :: prompt 2)

Warnings :: kissing

Word count :: 1.4k

James has always had a way of getting under your skin, but not in the annoying way that people usually do. He knows exactly what to say and how to say it, how to get you to crack a smile even when you’re in one of those moods where you’d rather not be bothered. His charm isn’t the loud, in-your-face kind—it’s quieter, more subtle. It’s in the way he knows when you need space, and when you need him to just be there. And when he wants something, he has a way of asking for it that’s impossible to refuse, even if you know exactly what he’s doing.

That’s how it’s been with James. Over the years, you’ve gotten used to his brand of sweetness—his inability to let you shut him out, his relentless, puppy-dog persistence when there’s something he wants. The truth is, you’ve come to love it, even though you’d never admit it aloud. It’s almost like you’re his project to fix, and he takes it on like a challenge. The grumpy girl who won’t let anyone get close? He’s the guy who smiles through it, wins you over, and somehow always manages to soften you up.

Tonight, though, there’s something different in the air. There’s a certain spark of energy about him that you can’t ignore. He’s been talking about this hockey event for weeks, hyping it up like it’s the most important thing on the planet. It’s one of those high-energy, all-you-can-eat-in-the-luxury-suite kind of events that feels a little too extravagant for your taste. Still, you’ve agreed to go, mostly because he’s so excited, and you know he’ll make it fun no matter how much you try to pretend you’re not interested.

But tonight, you can tell there’s something he’s not saying. Something that’s been hanging in the air all evening, making you feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to push you over the edge.

“Babe,” James calls from the bedroom, his voice breaking through your quiet solitude on the couch. You’re curled up in your oversized hoodie, scrolling through your phone aimlessly, trying not to get sucked into his excitement. But it’s hard to ignore him when he calls you like that—soft and warm, just the way he always does when he wants something. “I need your opinion on something.”

You sigh, glancing up. You can’t say you’re thrilled at the thought of actually moving from your cozy spot, but something in his tone makes you curious. You set your phone aside, the fabric of the couch soft beneath you as you push yourself up. “Hmm?”

You step into the bedroom, fully prepared for whatever nonsense he’s about to present to you. You know him well enough by now to know that when he looks like this—excited, eager, almost like a kid—it’s usually because he has a plan. You find him standing there, holding up two matching outfits, the kind of thing that makes your stomach twist into a knot of reluctance. One is a black-and-white jersey combo, the other a sleek, custom hoodie and scarf with your names stitched across the back. He’s smiling at you like he’s about to hand you the keys to a treasure chest.

“What do you think?” he asks, practically bouncing on his heels. His grin is wide, his energy so contagious it’s hard to ignore. “I was thinking we could totally match tonight. You’ll look amazing, I swear. It’ll be fun, we’ll totally be that couple.”

You blink, and for a moment, your expression freezes, the weight of indifference pulling at you. The idea of showing up to this loud, chaotic event, in a matching outfit with him, isn’t exactly thrilling. In fact, it sounds like your personal nightmare. Matching outfits are the kind of thing you only see on cheesy Instagram couples or at family photoshoots. Not on you. Not tonight.

You cross your arms, giving him the best skeptical look you can muster. You know you’re probably going to give in, but you’re determined to hold out a little longer. “I’m good with my hoodie, thanks.”

James doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he steps closer, his grin growing wider as he steps into your space, his hands gently gripping your wrists. The way he looks at you, with that unwavering certainty in his eyes, could melt any resistance you’ve got left. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his warmth radiating against your skin. It makes everything feel like it’s in slow motion. “Come on, baby,” he says, his voice dropping lower, teasing and coaxing at once. “You know you wanna. You’ll be the hottest girl there, I promise. All eyes will be on us.”

You scoff, but you can’t help the flicker of amusement that crosses your face. The thought of matching with him—really matching—does have its appeal. Walking into that suite with him, proud and smiling, drawing every eye in the room. You can’t deny that it’s kind of a power move. Still, you’re not ready to give in. Not yet.

“I said no,” you mutter, trying your hardest to sound firm, even though a tiny part of you already knows you’re going to cave.

But James isn’t backing down. His eyes spark with determination, a mischievous glint dancing in his gaze. Without another word, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you up in that warm, comforting embrace that’s always been able to quiet your thoughts. His body against yours feels like a solid, grounding force, and you can’t help but relax into it. His voice drops to a near-whisper as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“Just one time, baby,” he murmurs, the words practically spilling from his lips. “I promise, you’ll love it. We’ll match, and I’ll be the happiest guy ever. We’ll show up and you can make fun of me all night. Just please?”

You feel your resistance start to crack. That quiet pressure in his voice, the way he holds you, the little bit of vulnerability you hear in his plea—it makes it harder than usual to say no. You lean into him, letting the warmth of his embrace seep in. You feel him press a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there just long enough for you to know he’s not going to let this go.

It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment, knowing exactly how to break you down without being too pushy. He’s got that damn look in his eyes again—the one that makes you feel like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. And you know he’s been planning this, picturing the two of you together, smiling and laughing, living this little adventure of his.

With a sigh, you pull back just enough to look at him, trying to maintain your air of annoyance. But you know you’re fighting a losing battle. You can’t deny the way your heart warms whenever he looks at you like this.

“Fine,” you mutter under your breath, barely audible. “I’ll wear the damn matching hoodie.”

James’s face lights up like you’ve just given him a gift. His eyes widen, and his smile stretches even further, if that’s even possible. He looks at you like you’ve just made his whole day. He takes a step back, still holding onto your arms, but now with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Really?” he asks, the joy in his voice impossible to hide.

You can’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You cross your arms, trying to act unaffected. “Yeah, but I’m only doing this because you’re cute,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper.

James’s grin widens so much you’re pretty sure his face might hurt. Without missing a beat, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips, this one lingering a little longer than the others. It’s soft, sweet, and the taste of victory is on his lips. His hands gently pull the hoodie over your head, and as you stand there, looking at him in his matching set, you can’t help but feel a sense of…rightness.

There’s something about this—something simple and silly—that you wouldn’t trade for anything else. James, with all his charm and persistence, has a way of making these moments feel special, even when you try to fight it.

“Come on,” he says, tugging your hand and guiding you toward the door. “Let’s go show them what a couple of winners look like.”

And as you step into the night, the matching outfits now your shared armor, you can’t help but smile. It’s moments like this—small, spontaneous, and filled with laughter—that remind you why you love him so much.

[777bae]

as a fellow european bestie can i ask where you watch replays of the games?😭i cant find them anywhere

Hi my love! Me and my family use premier sports to watch the games here (it is so expensive tho 😭), however they do only typically have two or three random games from the night so there isn’t a lot of option. If my team are not one of those games, I usually watch the highlights on youtube and then go to twitter to see vids that people have uploaded on there! It does mean you don’t get to see the whole game, but I take any scraps I can get x

[777bae]

When living in Europe (England) means you basically have two options: stay up late watching your team (and suffer tomorrow) or sleep and pray you don’t get hit with any spoiler posts before watching. <<<<<<

[777bae]

SWEETENER LUKE HUGHES

- A small series of imagines for Luke Hughes, each individually based on a song from the album ‘Sweetener’ by Ariana Grande, all being sfw, though some have suggestive incentives.

TRACK ONE | Raindrops (An Angel Cried)

:: (1.5k) In an empty rink, Luke Hughes breaks your heart, leaving you alone to face the silence and the pain of a love lost forever.

TRACK TWO | God is a Woman

:: (2.1k) In the city’s pulse, you take control of the night, shifting the power between you and Luke. With every move, you leave him breathless, uncertain, and surrendered to your lead.

TRACK THREE | Sweetener

:: (1.2k) In Luke’s embrace, the world fades away. There’s no rush—just the quiet sweetness of being together, where every touch and word makes everything feel right.

TRACK FOUR | Everytime

:: (2.0k) Caught in a toxic cycle, you can’t resist Luke, no matter how many times you swear you’re done. Every time he returns, your walls crumble, and you’re pulled back into his arms, knowing nothing ever truly changes.

TRACK FIVE | Breathin

:: (1.7k) Drowning in anxiety, Luke Hughes becomes your calm, reminding you that with him, you’ll never face it alone.

TRACK SIX | No tears left to cry — Coming soon

:: (1.9k) After months of healing, you run into Luke, and everything you thought you’d moved past comes rushing back. Disoriented and lost, you realize you haven’t truly moved on.

TRACK SEVEN | Borderline — Coming soon

:: (2.3k) As the sun sets over the lake, the distance between you and Luke fades, replaced by his promise to meet you halfway. In his touch and words, you find hope for something real.

TRACK EIGHT | Better off — Coming soon

:: (3.6k) A chance encounter with Luke turns into a deep connection, but your fears and insecurities lead you to walk away, believing he’s better off without you, despite the heartbreak it causes.

TRACK NINE | Goodnight n go — Coming soon

:: (4.0k) You can’t stop thinking about Luke Hughes—the quiet, magnetic presence in your life. From fleeting touches to charged conversations, every moment with him leaves you questioning if he feels the same. Torn between holding on and letting go, you’re left trapped in the ache of almost-love.